#why should i have to tell anyone why i blocked someone. damn

[meejijis]

The fact that I have a lot of bad history when it comes to fandoms and having to block people I’ve hated/made me uncomfortable but I always have to run into the ppl i’ve blocked complain about me for blocking them when it’s none of yalls fucking business. I have every right to be uncomfortable and block yall out of my life. Deal with it and move on with your own life

[leclercsluvs]

CL16 | Already Over | smau

part 3 | masterlist

an: this will include sort of cheating (not really sure what to classify it as), and for that i am going to be using pics of charles and alex, however do i see any alex hate you are blocked or something, thank you very much) fc: sabrina carpenter pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader ib: vicious by @azulpitlane and the album 'emails i can't send' by sabrina carpenter

charles_leclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55 and 1.503.666 others charles_leclerc nice weekend! i'm happy with my results, and glad to finally introduce you to my girl <3 tagged: scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55

danielricciardo mate what?

carlossainz55 i literally saw her like once

lecworld oop the tea is being spilled

pierregasly great job this weekend! (very unimpressed i find out about your relationship through insta, i'm hurt)

landonorris what's her name again?

alex_albon wow you almost cut me out

charles_leclerc sorry mate i needed to fit in carlos carlossainz55 i do look amazing in that photo

y/nswrld damn the drivers did not hold back

ricsbestglam ikrrr??? like whats going onnnn?? i need the teaaa lecs.aep riiiight?? it's a neeeed

f1wagsupdates

liked by lecslvr, sharl.aep and 693 others f1wagsupdates charles new girlfriend spotted at the race! she looks so pretty, yet we haven't been able to find out what her name is tagged: charles_leclerc

lecslvr oh my goddd she's gorgeous

leclercs.aep she looks a lot like someone i've seen around in paris. i think she goes to one of the art schools there, i think her name is alexandra or something like that

f1girl1644 we must DIG and find her! charles_lechair or maybe theres a reason charles hasn't told anyone her @ like maybe she likes that people can't stalk her account and point out every flaw

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, yourbff and 2.562.827 others yourusername give me a second to forget i ever really meant it 🫨 fast times out now! music video out in a few days. hope you enjoy it (the dark hair is just a wig, i didn't dye my hair for a mv)

y/nsworld NEW MUSICC???

y/n.aep omg totally in love with this song!

scfty/n oh so they're like over over??

lecslvr i guess 😭 charles was literally seen kissing a girl and posting her on his ig

norris.aep oh is this going to be an album? about CHARLES??

lqvey/n omg i HOPEEE

danielricciardo so proud of you!

yourusername thank uuuu

carlossainz55 very nice song!

yourusername 🥰

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, milomanheim and 3.413.034 others yourusername feather is out now!! thank you to everyone who's supported me, and a big thanks to milo for agreeing to be the guy in the elevator 💔 anyway here's a few sneak peaks for the music video, personally my fav, out october 31st!! tagged: milomanheim

y/nsb1tch ohhh who did you blockkk?

yourfriend so you finally listened?

yourusername well i suppose someone knocked some sense into me yourbff happy to be of help 🫡 yoursister girl you should have listened from the beginning. he was BAD NEWS yourfriend we've been telling her!! yoursister did i tell how he responded when she was in that accident? yourbff uhm no??! do spill!!! yoursister TO THE GROUPCHAT yourusername oh lord....

milomanheim thanks for giving me this opportunity. never been in a music video and i did enjoy being the guy in the elevator. even if i didn't get that happy ending

yourusername we'll work together again sometime, and you'll get your happy ending 🙃

luvmilo UHMM WHAT?? okay but like he's gonna eat that role up no matter what it is

leclercssupportsystem okay but why does that guy lowkey look a bit like charles??? i fear 'guy in the elevator' and 'not happy ending' is not good LMAO did she kill him in the mv or something?

yourusername 👀

danielricciardo proud to have been an inspiration 😌

yourusername inspiration and inspiration 🤷‍♀️ sure we were texting when the idea came, but you didn't contribute much :) carlossainz55 she owned you mate danielricciardo now that's just rude :(( yourusername sorry. thanks for the amazing inspiration daniel 🫶 landonorris did you get a sneak peak of it too? maxverstappen1 only a sneak peak? i got the whole song like a week ago 🤷‍♂️ pierregasly you guys got to hear it? kevinmagnussen you guys knew about it?

lcvssjeed some of the drivers being in the comments is making my heart super happy

y/nsvfx no because same! maybe we’ll see her back in the paddock again? 👀 yourusername: wouldn’t wanna miss lando get his first win 😉 vspxcharles OMG OMG OMG SHE REPLIED

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 1.329.082 others scuderiaferrari a nice 1-2 this weekend! happy to see charles on top of that podium again! tagged: charles_leclerc, carlosssainz55

charles_leclerc felt good to be back on top!

carlossainz55 such a good weekend! can't wait for more

leclerswings hes such and angel! 😇

lecsgirl so we just decided to ignore that he supposedly cheated on y/n??

leclerc16 CHARLES P1!!! congratssss

char.aeps so once he drops y/n he starts performing great again? do we think she was the reason he couldn't perform?

angelic.y/n don't you dare try and put the blame on my baby angel! char.aeps she's not so innocent tho 💀 angelic.y/n what's that supposed to mean? was she the one running around being all flirty with two people at once? didn't think so

yourusername

liked by landonorris, yourbff and 2.562.827 others yourusername vicious out now! happy i was able to perform it at coachella! such an experience!

danielricciardo wow you never fail to amaze!

maxverstappen1 is this about a certain person we all collectively don't like?

yourusername perhaps 🤭 maxverstappen1 good to know landonorris may i ask, why you have not done something about it? maxverstappen1 what do you want me to do? pierregasly push him off the track. take revenge for 2012 maxverstappen1 do not remind me of that or i'll push YOU off the track.

carlossainz55 amazing!

y/ncore the drivers being so supportive even tho it's about charles treating y/n like shit is my roman empire

lestappenlvr love how she tries and makes it seem like charles was the bad guy 🙄

y/n.vsp maybe because he was the bad guy? lestappenlvr and how would you know?? y/n.vsp i dont, but hearing these songs, idk i dont think we should jump to any conclusions since we don't have the full story, but we all saw charles running around with that "alexandra" girl while he was definitely still with y/n lestappenlvr well if you dont know why are you speaking about it?? y/n.vsp y'know i could ask you the same thing.

leclercs.aep maybe she should have kept her legs closed lmao

yourusername

liked by yourfriend, yourbff and 2.562.827 others yourusername i wish we stayed just like we were up there </3

yourbff we should hang out soon!

yourusername uhm yes! yourfriend i better be invited! yourusername duh!! danielricciardo can i have an invite too? yourbff depends are you like *that guy*? danielricciardo uhh never 🫠 yourusername you can be there :))

y/nsangel aww how cute (who is she talking about?)

scfty/n probably charles? y/nsangel who? scfty/n charles_leclerc they used to date a little while ago, but it's suspected he cheated on her

scfty/n literally in love with her

y/nswrld who isnt?

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, leclercsbae and 729.362 others scuderiaferrari hoping for another 1-2 finish this weekend! tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55

leclercsbae charles looks so gooooood!!

charles_leclerc definitely going to try!!

carlossainz55 better hope for a P2, i’m going for that top step 💪 charles_leclerc keep dreaming mate, i’m taking that P1 yourusername oh so you do know how to reply?? angelic.y/n oop the tea clfan girl what are you doing here? you're not with him anymore y/n.video they might not be, but her and carlos seems to be friends, so it makes sense shes still following ferrari chili55 i’ve never seen them interact? luvy/n he’s been really supportive of her music, commenting on her post and using her songs on his story

maxv3rs1appen_ i doubt it. with max and red bull being strong you should be lucky to get P3

norris.vfx nahhh lando is gonna get his win this weekend (let me be delulu i need it)

yourusername we're rooting for him 💪

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff and 3.927.175 others yourusername thank you to everyone who's been with me through this journey. i'm happy to finally be back on tour, emails i can't send has been out for a few days, i hope you like this album i've been working on. i will not be naming any names, but if a song is about you, you probably know 😉

yourbff SO HAPPY YOU'RE BACKKK (i better get tickets>:(!!)

yourusername i guess you'll have to buy them then 🤷‍♀️

video.y/n okay so i went to one of the first concerts of the tour AND SOME OF THE DRIVERS WERE THERE 🥹

angelic.y/n waittt you have to tell which ones!! video.y/n well carlos, daniel, lando, pierre, max, george, lewis, kevin, alex and logan all stood together (so i assume they went together???) leclercsluv no way!! i went to! i actually saw a certain charles in the crowd and i was pretty shocked

danielricciardo one of the best concerts i've been to

maxverstappen1 usually i don't go to concerts, but i'd go to y/n's again in a heartbeat danielricciardo ofc you would ;) landonorris now what is that supposed to mean daniel??? 🤨 danielricciardo 🤐 yourusername thank you all for being there 🥰 it meant a lot to me 🫶 danielricciardo especially max 👀 alex_albon daniel behave 😑

lecslover charles lurking in the likes???

charles_leclerc i truly am sorry for what i did. do you think you'd ever be able to forgive me?

youbff no. yourfriend no. yoursister no. danielricciardo no. yourusername maybe with time. not right now tho. go take care of your new girl. you'll know when i'm ready.

-

part 4

tags: @exotic-iris13 @callsignwidow

[everythingisromant1c]

The First Step

carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary - The first thing you do when you get back to your hometown of Chicago is pay Carmen, your oldest friend and maybe more than that, a visit at The Beef. When you land yourself a job there, the more he sees of you, the more he seems to push you away for reasons he isn't yet brave enough to tell you, even if all he wants is to be with you. But if he'd ever known you, he'd know that you weren't going to back down without a fight.

type - one shot (its a long one)

word count [16.6k]

tags: Carmy Berzatto x f!reader, friends to lovers, pining, slight miscommunication, a little angst, "stop pushing me away", hurt/comfort, and new promises.

warnings: swearing, mentions of grief/death, panic attack

a/n: check this out also on my ao3! <33

Carmen was tired, to say the least. He'd been working himself to the bone every damn day for the past few months, trying to get The Beef to a good, stable place. Somehow, as time went by, he'd only managed to dig himself a deeper grave. With the money they owed to Cicero, he knew, deep down, that the restaurant was, for lack of a better word, fucked.

But he kept holding on. He couldn't let go of it. He'd wonder, in the depths of night, why he was fighting so hard for this place when he could easily sell it to Cicero. If, maybe, he was holding onto someone. He didn't amuse the thought. He physically couldn't.

So he threw himself deeper into his work. Deeper into making The Beef a reputable place, with a professional working staff and high-quality food. It didn't matter that the others looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had. He didn't have the time to worry about that. He didn't have time for much of anything, which is why Sydney had been pushing for new hires. She'd said that they needed more hands in the kitchen, more workers up front, more of everything. They should be desperate.

That's why she'd spent hours putting up posters for new hires on what felt like practically every block of Chicago within a mile radius from the restaurant. And that's why you'd happened to stumble upon one of them while walking to a favorite pizza place of yours that you'd loved as a kid. It was one of the first things you'd planned on doing ever since you'd gotten back into the city. That and meeting up with some old friends who you'd missed with an ache in your chest. So, seeing the poster clinging to the utility pole saying that The Beef was hiring had your heart skip a little beat at the prospect of not only getting a job but seeing the people who had basically been your family growing up again.

It was a Friday morning when you'd stopped by The Beef, the rusted white sign sticking out like a sore thumb. A rush of aromas wafted against your nose when you walked in, and the front door made a jingling sound that was almost nostalgic.

No one was at the front register. In fact, you couldn't see anyone at all, only hear some muffled voices coming from the kitchen in the back. The voices grew louder as seconds went by, and you could tell they were shouts. The kitchen door then flew open, finally revealing the argument going on between two people, one being an unfamiliar woman in an apron, and the other being none other than Richie Jerimovich.

"Richie, I swear to God-"

"I already told you," came the booming voice of Richie, neither of them noticing your presence at the door. "Your foo foo plans for this place are not gonna fly, Sweetheart!"

With the way Richie was talking to her, you could see the woman's patience wearing thin as she rested a hand on her temple with shut eyes as he carried on. It was only when she reopened her eyes a few moments later that she noticed your presence.

"Hi," you said, making your way over to her. "I saw your poster, the one about looking for new hires-"

"Right, right." She offered a strained smile, stress seeming to stay with her. "I'm Sydney, you must be one of the job applicants?"

"Yeah, I'm-"

"A job applicant?" Richie's voice boomed through the room, his voice always projecting ten times louder than need be. You had to admit, you missed it. "F that bullshit, that's fucking Mars Bar!"

Sydney's eyebrows lowered at the shouted nickname, the one that the Berzattos had gifted you years ago after your favorite candy as a kid. You granted Richie a smile, him finally noticing you. "Nice to see you too, Richie."

He marched around the counter to engulf you in a bear-like hug that had you letting out a chuckled gasp from the impact, arms wrapping tightly around your back. He let go in a beat and slammed his hands down on the counter in excitement, always loud.

"Just wait till Carmy hears about his favorite girl being back, I swear to God."

Something fluttered through you at the mention of that name. Carmen's name. With a whirlwind of thoughts sifting through your mind, you almost missed the other name that Richie had called you, aside from Mars Bar. Carmy's favorite girl.

-----

Richie had barged into the kitchen with full vigor, slamming open the swinging door dangerously close to a nearby Tina.

"Cousin!" He moved through the different chefs' stations until he got to Carmen's, who was wrapped up in prepping and quite frankly had learned to tune out the sound of Richie's yelling for his own health. "Yo, Cousin!"

Richie boisterously grabbed a hold of Carmen's shoulders, rocking him a little and moving his hand that wielded a knife, cutting diagonally into beef he'd been pre-slicing.

"Shit," Carmen cursed, irritation forming. "What the hell is it, Cousin?"

Richie just laughed, a mind never paid to Carmen's annoyance. "Yea, you're pissed at me now, Carmy, but you're gonna think I'm pulling your dick when I tell you who's at the fucking register right now."

With a forever-present dull headache, Carmen sighed and shifted his focus to him, putting down his knife on the counter. He gestured a hand out to him. "Who's at the register, Rich-"

"The fucking love of your life, that's who!"

Richie gave Carmen a playful punch in the arm, but he remained unphased, a frown etched on his features. "See, what the fuck are you talking about? I don't have a love of my-"

"Two words, Cousin. Mars Bar."

Richie was right. Those two words really did do something to him.

"She- ... she's here?"

He rubbed his jaw, brain short-circuiting for a second as he tried to make sense of Richie's words. His eyes bore into Richie's never-serious ones, trying to grasp onto whether or not he was, just this one time. If he was messing with him, he didn't think he'd be able to take it.

"Yes, bro!" Yelled Richie, patting him on the back. "I swear to you. She's here, and hot as balls, too."

He squinted his eyes at him with a twinge of disgust, slightly shoving him to the side to get towards the door. He still didn't know if he believed it. You'd been traveling abroad on some grant that he, to be honest, didn't know much about. But you were doing great things. He couldn't guess why you'd come back to The Beef, of all places.

When he saw you through the window, he was lucky he was hidden behind the safety of the kitchen door because he couldn't control the way his body and mind froze at the sight of you. He took in the way your smile beamed out into the room as you spoke with Sydney, warm and unignorable, and he could've sworn something changed in the chemical makeup of his brain. Something that had his eyes widening and his feet planted in their place.

"What'd I tell you?" Richie's voice from behind him knocked him out of his trance. There was a smug, amused edge to his voice. "Now go and talk to her."

Carmen put a hand out, shooing him away. "I will. I just," he stopped, trailing off as he took in the way you truly seemed to glow after all the time spent away. He liked how it looked on you.

"Aww, don't tell me you're nervous now, Carm." Richie put his arms on Carmen's shoulders.

"Shut the fuck up." He shoved Richie off of him with a grimace, but his eyes never left you, jaw clenching as he followed your movements. "I'm not."

The pit in his stomach told him otherwise. He ignored the feeling, determined, and took in a breath before opening the kitchen door to the front of the restaurant, to where you stood.

At the sound of the door swinging open you finally turned your attention to him, lips coming to part with a subtle inhale that somehow left you feeling breathless.

"Carmen." You said his name with a grin, eyes lighting up, heart picking up its pace in your chest. You ran over for a quick, thoughtless hug that left his body partly on fire when you pulled away just as fast.

"Mars Bar." He uttered the old nickname endearingly, his voice cracking at the end of his words for some reason. He cleared his throat. "You're uh- you're here. In Chicago."

"Woah," Richie interrupted, coming in from behind, boisterous. "We've got a genius in The Beef, everybody!"

Sydney snorted from somewhere in the distance, but you couldn't even laugh because you'd been too busy staring at the way Carmen ran his hand through his golden hair that had been unruly since you were practically kids and still was.

"Yeah," you breathed, cringing at how awkward your voice sounded to your own ears. "I'm here."

The two of you held onto each other's gazes for a beat too long, scanning over the other wordlessly, taking in the changes that the years apart had brought.

"Well, uh," Carmen started, licking his lip to find strings of coherent words. "Do you wanna come into the office? Catch up?"

You nodded with a pleased tug of your lips. "Yeah, sure Carmen."

He nodded too and led the way, arm delicately resting on your upper back for a second in a way that left his fingertips buzzing, alive.

You entered the room after he did, the desk and walls littered with papers and sticky notes of different colors, an overload to the senses. It was stuffy, even with the door left open.

Before he turned to face you, he clumsily sorted some papers that'd been sitting on a wooden chair into stacks and pushed them onto the highest shelf above his desk so you could sit down, his white t-shirt slightly tugging upwards as he reached. Your eyes subtly followed the movement, eyes glancing steadily over a part of his lower abdomen that you felt alarmed at even sneaking a peak. That and the muscles that showed clearly from the short sleeves of his shirt.

God, you'd only been back in Chicago for a few days and your mind was already doing that thing it always did when you were around Carmen, like it didn't have the ability to think straight or act rationally when he was around.

"So, uh," Carmen started, turning his focus back to being one hundred percent on you. It became hard to concentrate when he did that, because he had the most piercing blue eyes you'd ever seen and you found over the years that they'd always had more than just one emotion swimming around in them. As you looked into them now, you still came up short in identifying them.

"What are you doing back in Chicago?" He looked at you like you were a puzzle, one he couldn't give up on solving. "Did the studies abroad finally start to bore you?"

"Yeah, they did," you joked, looking down at your lap. "Not really much to do in Europe compared to this place, you know?"

Carmen let out a wisp of a laugh, nodding, while also noting somewhere in the back of his mind that this was the first time he'd laughed in at least a few days. Your presence could always do that to him; Put him at ease when nothing else truly could.

"And, of course, I could only go so long being separated from the Berzattos."

He laughed again. That made twice. "Oh yeah?"

You nodded, playful in your words.

"I mean it." You did.

You let a comfortable silence nestle between the two of you, feeling the upward tug of your lips that you could only blame on Carmen. The thought left something alighted in your chest

"Seriously though." You say up a little straighter in your seat. "I guess the real reason I stopped by was because I was wondering if I could help out around here for a little while, now that I'm back home."

At this, the smile that had been resting on Carmen's face began to weaken.

"What?" His forehead creased, eyes dancing across your face with curiosity and disguised panic of his own.

Sensing his change in mood, you hurriedly continued. "I'll be home for a while and, you know, I just figured me getting a job here would be convenient and-"

"No."

You stopped mid-sentence, zeroing in on the man before you. "No?"

He had one hand leaning against the desk, the other's fingertips pressed to his forehead, head cast down, eyes evading yours.

"No, I- I'm sorry, Mars. We're ... we're not hiring right now. We don't need any new workers." At that, you frowned, taking in the tension in Carmen's stance and the tightness in his voice.

"I know The Beef is hiring right now, Carm." You gave him a disbelieving look. "In fact, I got the idea to work here from the flyers Sydney put up everywhere, so don't try and tell me you're not looking for new job applicants." You took a step closer to him, sensing something wrong and confused as to why he would lie, but he only seemed to be growing more agitated, shifting his posture upwards and no longer leaning on the table.

"That was a mistake, alright? I didn't ask her to do that. The Beef is doing perfectly fine, we don't need any extra help." Something sour was rotting in the undertones of his voice, the way he said the word help as if the thought of it was repellent.

"I didn't mean anything by asking. I ... I know you guys are doing fine, probably great even, I was just thinking that maybe I could-"

"We don't need any new fucking hires, Mars." He slammed his hand down on the desk, his tone raising so abruptly that it had you taking a step back in surprise.

When you looked up at him with alarm in your eyes, immediately his eyes began to soften, regret flooding through them. You held his gaze until those same eyes became taken over with this sudden guilt, almost sadness, flickering downwards towards his hands that moved to rest on his office desk, away from you.

You took a second to scan over the desk that was littered with papers and unsigned documents. It wasn't like Carmen to be unorganized, you knew that much. He had to be in a bad place to have his office look like this. Or, rather, Mikey's old office.

The room was a sensory overload, every inch of it a reminder of Mikey. Anyone would go crazy spending their days in here. Especially if that someone had been his little brother.

Carmen rubbed his hands over his face. You took a step next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder that lit aflame from the heat he gave off.

"For what it's worth," you started softly, and Carmen had to fight a shiver at how close your voice was to him. "I miss Mikey too."

He didn't make any movement to turn towards you, his jaw clenched and eyes still staring downwards. He didn't know what made you feel like you had to say that to him. He didn't need to look at you, though, to know you truly meant it.

"You can't work here," he said, his voice sounding defeated and a little far away. "I'm sorry."

Something restless in your heart was determined to make you fight back, figure out why Carmen was refusing you without a good reason. But something else inside of you softened at the way Carmen wouldn't meet your eyes, seeming guilt-stricken, and decided to back down. The hand that had been resting on his shoulder gave him a final squeeze.

You took your leave for the office door without Carmen moving an inch.

"Bye, Carm." Your voice was unfairly soft towards him, even if he felt like he didn't deserve the kindness that thrummed from your heart. "It was nice seeing you." You paused. "I've missed you."

Before he could turn to say goodbye, somehow communicate the 'I've missed you too' that he'd been meaning to express since he'd seen you, you had already turned down the hallway, out of sight. He knew for sure, then, that you didn't deserve that response from him. But he just didn't know how to tell you. How to explain without sounding ridiculous why alarms sounded in his brain at the thought of you working at The Beef.

He'd always known that you were destined for more than just the life you'd shared with him as kids, where you scored straight A's and were one of the top in your class. When you'd left for college while he stayed put, he didn't even let himself miss you, because he'd just wanted what was best for you. And when you furthered your studies even after college, traveling abroad, he knew that was the life you were meant for. To see you stopping all of that to work at The Beef, the place where his brother's dreams had become nothing but dead ends as time went on, wouldn't settle right inside of him.

Worst of all, he had visions of you working in the kitchen, behind the scenes where tensions were constantly overwhelming, of him losing his cool in front of you and you seeing a side of him he tried to keep you far away from. You'd always known the youngest brother Carmy, the world-class chef Carmy, the one who was at his best around you. He couldn't imagine what he would do if suddenly he revealed the Carmy he tried to hide; the Carmy who worked at The Beef, a bundle of unstable frustration who was barely hanging on, the Carmy who still didn't know how to live life without Mikey but who melted from your touch, who wanted more from the girl who'd been at his side for so many years as nothing but a friend, and a great one. He couldn't risk losing that.

Especially not with the condition of The Beef at the moment, which needed his full focus. Having you around would definitely not allow for that. So he convinced himself that this was for your own good. For his own good.

When you rounded the corner back out into the front of the restaurant, Richie was still there behind the counter, holding a phone to his ear.

You smiled at him a little tiredly and silently waved goodbye, walking towards the door.

Richie frowned, removing his focus from the phone call. "Where the hell are you leaving to so fast?" You spun around. "Don't tell me Carmy scared you off already."

You laughed awkwardly and thought of what to say, but must have taken too long to answer because Richie's face was already contorting with an over-the-top grimace.

"What'd that moron say to you, huh?"

You put a hand out, trying to calm him. "Richie, it's nothing, really-"

He was already stalking off towards the office, muttering something about 'killing Carmen'. You shook your head to yourself, because you knew how headstrong both of them were, and turned towards the exit. And, as you finally opened the glass door to leave, you could hear yelling and shouted vulgar words coming from the office. You didn't stay long enough to listen.

You didn't know what to think when it happened. You'd been sitting at home all weekend, alone, and honestly truly bored and wondering if coming back home was the right choice when your phone started ringing. You checked the screen and it was an unknown caller, but boredom had you picking it up anyway.

Mars Bar!

"Hello? Who is this?"

It's me.

"..."

Richie.

"Ohh ... right. How did you get my number again?"

I asked around. Anyways, it doesn't matter. I'm supposed to be telling you that you're gonna start work tomorrow.

"What? Start work? Where?"

At The Beef. C'mon Mars catch up with me here.

"Sorry, I'm just ... confused. Carmen told me you guys weren't hiring and that he couldn't give me a job?"

Oh, that. Don't worry about Carmy. I set that moron straight.

"What are you saying?"

I'm saying, you got the job kid!

"Richie, are you fucking with me right now?"

No! Why does everyone always think I'm fucking with them? I'm fucking serious hon.

"Okay, okay! I ... I believe you. I think."

You better! Carmy is really fucking stoked to have you work here, I mean it.

"He ... he is?"

Sure! So I better see your ass Monday morning, capeesh?

"Y-yea I guess so."

Your heart really should not have fluttered the way it did when Richie told you that Carmen was supposedly excited to see you. He hadn't sounded like it when you'd brought it up to him. In fact, he seemed strangely opposed to the idea, like you'd hit a sensitive area.

You weren't sure if you could really believe Richie. Like you'd always known, Carmen was stubborn as hell. The change of heart was unexpected, to say the least. You didn't know what to think. You still didn't know, as you walked through the front entrance of The Beef the next day, ready to start work. The only person to greet you at the front was Richie, standing behind the counter, per usual.

"Cousin!" He gestured you over. You greeted him back and rounded the corner to stand behind the counter next to him, unused to the feeling after spending years on the other side of it.

Richie spent at most two minutes giving you a rundown of what you'd be doing at The Beef, merely distracted by some yelling in the kitchen. The brief directions consisted mostly of taking orders and ringing a bell. A real challenge.

"Yeah, so that's basically it." He gave you a pat on the back and your front almost hit the counter at the impact.

"No paperwork or formalities or anything?" You were almost suspicious of the fast speed at which this had all happened. Richie whipped his head around like you'd stated something crazy.

"Formalities? C'mon, what are we, the fucking White House? This is a family business, Cousin."

He patted you on the shoulder roughly. "Thanks, Richie," you said, both slightly amused and slightly unnerved. You tapped your fingers on the marble countertop, trying to seem casual. "Where's um ... where's Carmy?"

Richie scratched his head. "He's, uh, he's busy. He'll be out soon. Don't you worry, shortcake." He gave you a wink that you didn't know what to do with and turned back towards the kitchen. You were gonna have to talk to him about those nicknames in the workplace sooner or later.

You called out to him before he left into the kitchen, hesitant. "You're sure Carmen said he wants me to work here, right?"

Your eyes bore into Richie's for a moment, and it was almost like you could see the thoughts in his head visibly swarming about. His shoulder raised. "Well, he didn't exactly say he wanted you to, but anyone with fucking eyes can see that he wants you-"

"Richie!" Your jaw hung open in utter annoyance and bafflement. He frowned at you.

"What?"

You almost scoffed. "Did Carmen really not say it was okay for me to work here?" You looked around, bewildered. "Does he even know I'm here?"

Richie gestured his hands out to you. "Sure he does!"

You could tell just from his tone what your answer was. You put a hand on your hip, shaking your head to yourself. "I'm going in there to talk to him."

"No!" Richie's eyes widened. "No. Just calm down, and I'll talk to him."

You stared at him disbelievingly. He stared back at you challengingly with the confidence only Richie could have. "I'll be back in no time. I know what I'm doing, trust me."

Richie didn't know what he was planning on doing when he opened the door to the kitchen in search of Carmen. He just hoped he wasn't using a knife when he found him.

He turned a few corners before Carmen was in his line of view, hunched over the counter as he worked busily on something Richie couldn't see. He leaned against the counter next to him, watching Carmen as his focus didn't even falter.

"Carm."

He didn't get a reply, just the back of Carmen's head as he focused on reading the piece of paper in front of him, hand braced against the shining surface it lay on.

"Carmy."

The man in question slowly shifted his focus to the man next to him, whose distracting presence had become impossible to ignore. "What? What is it?"

Richie peered down at him. "Promise that you won't get mad."

Carmen's eyes narrowed. "What the hell did you do?"

"Just promise me you won't fucking blow up at me like you always do."

"Why would I promise that if I don't even know what the hell you did?"

Richie tipped his head back exasperatedly. "Just say you promise!"

"I fucking promise! Okay?" Carmen ran a hand through his hair, moving it again to cross his arms. "Now, what is it?"

Richie paused, kicking out his foot and casually peering down at it with feigned interest. "Mars Bar is outside right now. Again."

Carmen's forehead creased and he looked over at Richie with sudden alarm. "What? Why? Is she okay?"

Richie gave him a knowing look, smug for a moment. "Yeah, she's fine." He shrugged. "I just, um, might have given her a job here up at the register."

Carmen's face was unmoving, his tone raising with poorly hidden anger. "You what?"

"And I might've also told her you really wanted her to work here."

Carmen's eyes scanned Richie's sporadically like he couldn't process his words fast enough. "Wh- Why the fuck would you do that? I already told her no-"

"Yeah, and I told her yes. Because you're an idiot and I'm saving your ass. You're welcome!"

Carmen ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "For what? Fucking me over?"

"I did not fuck you over, Carm, I'm doing this for you!"

Carmen shook his head, anger bleeding its way through his mind. "What the hell are you talking about? I told you, Richie, I don't want her anywhere near this place. I- I thought that was understood."

"No, it was not fucking understood because it was a stupid idea." Carmen let out a scoff as Richie put his hands out to Carmen in a calming gesture. "This is a good thing, trust me."

Carmen sputtered. "How the fuck is it-"

"Shut the fuck up and listen to me, Carm!" Richie shouted, bravely putting a hand up in front of Carmen's face. He pointed his finger at him which Carmen regarded with annoyance. "You need to stop being a moron and pushing away every single fucking female that tries to come within ten feet of you, alright?"

Carmen's brows furrowed even further, confusion building alongside anger. "I really have no goddamn idea what your point is here, Richie, but this has nothing to do with-"

"Oh spare me, Cousin!" He shouted. "We all know you've had the hots for Mars Bar over there since you were kids, alright?"

Carmen's mouth clamped shut immediately at this, his breathing coming out in fumes. He shook his head back and forth.

"Is this what this whole fucking thing is about, you jagoff?"

"Woah woah woah!" Richie cut in. "I am not the jagoff here, Cousin. I'm helping you out!"

"Richie's right, Carm," cut in Fak from behind, appearing suddenly out of nowhere like he always seemed to.

"Shut the fuck up, Fak!" Carmen held his head in his hand, trying to grab hold of his temper that he could feel slipping out of control. He needed to breathe.

"She can't work here."

Richie raised his arms in a shrug. "Well, you're gonna have to go tell her that yourself."

"I fucking will."

Carmen stormed off towards the kitchen door, ready to tell you yet again that you had to leave, a daunting thought overlooked thanks to adrenaline. Richie chuckled from behind him. "Yeah right, like you're gonna fire her."

Carmen didn't let himself listen to Richie any longer. Fists clenched at his sides, he opened the door and there you were, standing there, looking confused and a little surprised with parted lips.

Richie came up from behind and patted him on the back. "Go on, Carm. Tell her."  You watched as Carmen's jaw clenched.

Carmen really wanted to tell you that you couldn't work here. That you had to go home. That you had to run far away from this place and go back to studying abroad and being more successful than any of them and all of that bullshit. Maybe it was because your eyes were shining a little too bright in the restaurant lighting, or that they looked a little too hopeful as they stared back at him with raised brows, waiting. But he didn't say anything of those things.

"You..." he started. Your eyebrows raised further. His palms suddenly became sweatier. He took a breath in.

"You, um," a beat passed. He licked his lip. "You're gonna need an apron."

Your eyes lit up even more if possible, and he thought his heart would give out. Then, you ran up and threw your arms around his neck in a tight hug, and he genuinely questioned if his brain had short-circuited because, by the time he came back to reality, you'd already pulled away and were practically jittering with excitement from in front of him.

"Thank you so much, Carm." Every time you smiled at him in that way he felt himself lose a bit of control. He didn't like the feeling. "You won't regret it."

He smiled back at you because he couldn't not. He wasn't so sure.

Carmen had given you your apron. When he'd handed it to you, you'd brushed fingers and your heart skipped a little beat at the contact. That had been the most eventful thing to occur within the next four days.

You'd done practically nothing at The Beef all week. There'd been a noticeable lack of customers coming into the restaurant to take orders, and those who did oftentimes came in just to see Richie, which had you leaning against the counter waiting and listening to their loud conversations with the man.

It felt like there was some sort of prank being played on you. Surely they wouldn't pay you money for doing absolutely nothing. All the waiting around doing close to nothing made you antsy, frustrated, and confused.

You'd been meaning to address this to Carmen, to ask what you were doing wrong, but getting a hold of him was near impossible. You'd seen so little of Carmen that you couldn't even be sure he came into work most days, the only confirmation being his shouts coming from the kitchen at the others. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you became jealous of them. You'd take Carmen shouting orders at you in the kitchen any day over him saying nothing to you at all. It almost felt like he was avoiding you.

It was a Thursday night, and the antsy feeling inside of you had you staying late at work that night, wiping down tables with an intense amount of fervor.

You'd thought you were the last one in The Beef. It'd been dark for hours, but you had nobody and nothing exciting waiting for you at home, so working a little extra couldn't hurt. And, if it made Carmen notice your position at The Beef at least a little bit, it would be worth it.

As your thoughts drifted to the man, something made a noise from the kitchen, and it became apparent to you that maybe you weren't the only one working late that night.

"Hello?" You'd said aloud, your voice slightly echoing in the vacant restaurant. No response was returned. You slowly went back to scrubbing down a table against the far wall from the kitchen door when it swung open, and there stood Carmen Berzatto in his patchwork wool jacket, looking like seeing you was the last thing he'd expected.

The sight was jarring to you for a number of reasons. You jumped up speedily and tucked the rag you'd been using to clean tables slightly behind you as if he hadn't already seen you using it.

"Mars Bar?" He said, the nickname falling easily from his lips like it was the only one he'd ever known you by. He eyed your tense stance.

"Hey, Carmen." Your smile was just as unnatural. His eyebrows pulled downward at you, eyes squinting and blinking confusedly in the dim lighting like he was fighting sleep.

"What are you doing here so late?" You nibbled at your own lip. Carmen, even from across the room, made sure to follow the movement. You noticed him eye the rag in your hands.

"I was just cleaning off some of the umm ... some of the tables." You didn't know why you sounded so embarrassed. You also didn't know what was going through Carmen's mind as he looked over you, and then over the spotless tables behind you.

"Wow," he began, running a hand through his hair. "You really didn't have to do all this. It's not ... it's not part of your job, you know?" A feeling bitter and stale simmered inside of you.

"I know." You stood up straighter. "Maybe I just wanted to.

You wanted to say more in the moment, tell him all of your frustrations, but you didn't. You just stared back at him and watched as he walked towards where you stood by the tables. You didn't move an inch.

His eyes surveyed the tops of the tables and he marveled at how clean they were. Not just clean, but almost sparkling, even in the low lighting that came from a single overhead lamp and the streetlights from outside.

"You did a great job, Chef."

Your eyebrows raised unintentionally. He'd never called you that before, though you'd heard the name from his lips aimed at others countless times. He noticed your reaction.

"What?" He asked, eyeing you curiously. He leaned back against the table next to you, his beautiful stare almost becoming a little too much for you after a long day. You shrugged.

"Nothing. It's just," you paused, "you've never called me that before."

His expression was slightly confused, slightly amused. "Well," he began, gaze shifting from the ground to you. "Now I do. You work here, don't you?"

The question settled uncomfortably in your chest, and you let out a laugh that sounded just as strained. "Hardly."

Carmen's eyebrows flashed downwards in a quick frown. "What do you mean 'hardly'?" You felt his eyes scanning your face, scanning you. "What's up?"

You went back to rubbing at the corner of a nearby table with your rag if only to distract yourself from Carmen's gaze and the petty way your words sounded coming from your lips.

"I mean," you began. "It feels like I haven't really done much of anything around here, you know?" When he didn't say anything back, you continued. "I've only taken a handful of customer's orders in the past couple of days. And, I know I'm not the best cook in the world but I could definitely help out in the kitchen with something. Maybe I could cut up some stuff, or prep it, or whatever you guys call it. Anything, really."

He didn't say anything right away, and you became horrified that you'd pushed his buttons too many times in the last week with your rants and that he'd finally send you on your way once and for all. Then, you heard something like a laugh come from him. You reeled back.

"Is something funny?" You asked, your tone uncharacteristically sour. He silenced his amusement and looked at you intently.

"You've always been such an overachiever, Mars."

You paused, then shook your head. "Oh please, we all know you're the ambitious one."

"No, not when we were kids," Carmen argued. "I was never great in school. You, on the other hand," he chuckled under his breath. "My mom would have me go check in on you whenever we hadn't heard from you on a night before a test. Make sure you weren't overdosing on coffee and pop."

You swore you could feel your heart beating in your chest at Carmen's revelation and the fondness in his voice.

"You know," Carmen began again, getting lost in memories. "I think my mom used to have this theory I'd marry you one day or something. Said you were the only girl who'd put up with my stubbornness."

Oh my God. Your head was spinning. Why was he saying this? He didn't know what the hell he was doing to you. Or your heartbeat, which was concerningly gaining speed. He never did.

All you could say was, "Oh?"

He laughed some more like this was something casual, something funny. You couldn't help but notice that forever present weight present in his eyes, though. Something he could never seem to shed.

"Yeah, well," Carmen began again, "my mother has also been mentally unstable for years, so." He jokingly trailed off, his voice dying in the silence, along with any butterflies you'd felt. You laughed quietly, even if laughing was the last thing you wanted to do when hearing that.

You felt like you were being suffocated. By him and his blue eyes and his dry, self-deprecating jokes and the small quirk of his lips. You were also getting restless because you'd started off trying to talk with Carmen about your job, and now were getting lost in the haze of your feelings for him which you decided were useless and would get you nowhere. You cast them aside the best you could and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Carmen," you said. His attention focused directly on you. "Did you listen to any of the things I said about working here?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he assured you. "Of course."

"So, will you take them into consideration? Let me do more, Carmen. I can do more."

There was a beat of silence. He fidgeted, like he did when he was a boy and couldn't focus in class, or when he was nervous around a girl he'd liked. Nervous around you.

He wanted to say yes. Hell, he would've given you anything you'd asked for just to see you happy. But he didn't know what the consequences of giving you a more important role at The Beef would achieve. What it might stop you from achieving. What it might do to him. So, he didn't say anything. Not anything direct.

"I know you can, Mars." He exhaled and then put his hands in his pockets, eyes cast down. He glanced at his watch. "It's almost midnight. We can talk about this more in the morning. Okay?"

His response was like a smack in the face. A sharp pain that left a dull ache. You let a breath out and tried to keep your face from revealing your stubborn frustration. You slowly nodded. "Okay."

Even if you tried to contain your emotions, Carmen could see it. He noticed it in the quick flare of your nostrils as you breathed, in the slight clench of your jaw. Stupidly, he asked, "Is that okay?"

You weren't looking at him. You were looking at your feet. You tapped your foot once. "Yes."

Even more stupidly, he asked, "Are you sure?"

You finally shifted your focus to him and he felt his own jaw clench at the way it sent a rush down his spine.

"Yeah, Carmen." That was the first time he didn't like the way you said his name.

"Alright," he said, nodding slowly, lifting his bag higher on his shoulder.

"Alright."

You lifted the rag from the table, stood there for a second, and walked towards the counter, where you wrung it out and slapped it down into a bucket full of other dirty rags, and left it there. You didn't feel much like putting it away.

Carmen hadn't moved and just stood there by the tables, watching as you collected your coat from behind the counter and turned off the lights as you walked past.

When he saw you walking towards the door, he rushed to get there first, to open it for you. You beat him to it, opening it yourself. He closed it and locked the door behind him. You both were engulfed by the dull chill of the air right away, and you couldn't help but shiver.

Carmen turned to you. "Let me drive you home." He didn't dare offer you a lighthearted smile or anything of that sort. He didn't think he had it in himself to be lighthearted, anyways.

You gifted him a polite one with a short tug of your lips. "I have a car. Thanks."

Carmen could've smacked himself right there. "Right." He didn't know what was wrong with him. "Sorry." The apology was for more than just his assumption, but he couldn't bring himself to clarify.

"I'll walk you to your car then?" He asked, though you knew no matter what you said he'd make sure you'd get to your car safely either way.

"Okay, yeah."

You both turned to walk to your car, Carmen letting you take the lead for a moment before catching up to walk side by side with you. You were hit with the reality that Carmen Berzatto was walking you to your car, alone with you, at midnight. A small gesture that had your mind buzzing from the contrast between your love for him and your frustration with him. Nobody had come close to making you feel the emotions Carmen made you feel, even if no words were shared between both of you on that short walk. It felt completely silent. Somehow, even if the streets of Chicago were anything but, it felt silent.

Carmen thought about how his life was full of silent moments, never saying what he truly wanted to, to the people he wanted to speak to the most. When he noticed you were cold, even through your jacket, he walked a little closer to you. Whether you noticed it or not, he didn't know, but at least it soothed a small part of his mind that was blaring that night, telling him that he'd fucked up with you. That you deserved better. He couldn't help but think that same thing when he was around you, all the time.

You'd both crossed the street to reach your car in not even a full minute, but the walk had felt eternal to you. When you turned to Carmen to tell him goodnight, he was already looking at you intently. You wanted to ask what he was thinking, but you didn't, and unlocked your car.

"See you in the morning, Carmen," you said, tone unrevealing. He gave you his best neutral smile.

"Yeah. See you, Mars."

You went to open your car door, but this time he beat you to it. Even if he made you angry, he was still Carmen.

You watched as he rounded the front of your car back to the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, soft breathing visible in the cold from the white puffs it made in the air as he breathed.

You gave him one last wave as a goodbye, but by that time he was pretty much out of vision, and then drove away.

He watched your car drive down the street, stop at the light, turn the corner, and then glide out of view.

Immediately, he knew he should've said more on the walk to your car. He should've at least apologized. He didn't tell you that he was sorry for being so shitty. He didn't tell you he appreciated everything you did. He also didn't tell you his car was parked on the opposite end of the street.

And as he walked back to it, crossing The Beef again with its spotless tables, he thought about nothing except you.

The next morning had you waking up with a headache that only worsened when you stepped foot into The Beef. Your coworkers were shouting and blurting out orders in typical kitchen lingo that you honestly didn't fully understand.

There seemed to be an underlying tension simmering in the air that morning that had everyone's voices raised just a little bit more than usual, echoing through to you from your designated spot behind the front counter.

You figured out soon that that tension came from the review of The Beef that had been put in the paper the night before. It was the same topic that had Sydney and Richie arguing back and forth for minutes on end next to you.

"So this is a war on poor people?" You heard Richie ask as you finally tuned back into their yelling. "I see you."

"No," Sydney yelled back. "This is a war on you shutting the fuck up and learning how to use the tablet! The end dude."

"What is the end?"

You turned to your left to see Carmen stride out of the kitchen, looking every bit intense, shoulders hunched and rigid. He glanced at you in some form of a greeting for only a second before putting himself between Richie and Sydney and somewhat settling their argument.

"Are we ready?" He asked them with a rushed tone.

"No!" Sydney snapped, but headed back into the kitchen with Richie, even if you could see she wanted to punch the man in the face.

You turned back around to watch Carmen as he hurriedly ran a hand through his hair and started to rush back into the kitchen. You tried to catch his eyes, but he didn't meet your gaze.

"Um, Chef?" You tried to call, reaching out an arm to get his attention just a hair too late, him brushing past you without taking notice of you.

"Carmen?" This time he turned around, head flipping around to focus on you with eyes shot wide in the rush.

"What's up?" He asked, eyes quickly assessing your face. For a second you forgot what you were supposed to be asking.

"Did you, um, think about what I said last night?" He blinked back at you. "You said we'd talk about it in the morning, so, could we maybe talk about it?"

With the way he stared back at you, for a second you could've sworn he'd forgotten what you were talking about. Then, it had clearly dawned on him and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second, holding out a hand to his head.

"No, yeah, right." He thought for a second, and then looked around, peeking into the kitchen, attention clearly spread elsewhere.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "Can we just ... talk about this another time?"

You tried not to show your frustration. "Like when?"

"Uh," Carmen started, but he was already backing into the kitchen. A loud clanging noise of pots and pans rang through to the front, and his focus was completely lost. "Who the fuck keeps denting my pans, Chefs?!" He shouted. He threw the kitchen door open and moved to go inside, but not before calling out "We'll talk later, Chef!" and disappearing into the kitchen.

You groaned. "Later," could mean any time between that day and Easter. You didn't want to blame Carmen. You knew he was extremely busy and tended to overwork himself. But something in the back of your mind told you he was avoiding you. You didn't like the feeling.

It'd only been maybe an hour into the day when all hell started to break loose in the kitchen. At least from what you could hear. There was three times as much yelling as usual and people were weaving through the station by the front counter and the kitchen, shouting sandwich orders. Meanwhile, you felt lost and unhelpful, with no direct answer as to what was going on.

You'd spent your time filling up the napkin dispenser and cutting green tape, feeling your uselessness in your bones. Maybe Carmen was right. Maybe you were overly ambitious. That didn't change the fact that now it seemed like not just Carmen, but everyone else had gone out of their way to keep you away from the kitchen.

You'd thought about going in there anyway, but thought better of it when listening to the commotion. That was, until you saw Marcus with his bags taking his leave towards the exit, a look of both anger and defeat on his face.

"Woah, Marcus," you called out with furrowed brows. "What's wrong? Where are you going?"

He let out a quick breath from his nose that sounded like it was supposed to be a wry laugh. He pointed towards the back. "Anywhere but in that kitchen." You frowned and he shook his head. "He's losing his shit, man."

You were confused and looked to him for more of an explanation, but he was already walking out the door and it didn't seem like he had any plans of coming back. You wanted to ask him "who?", but you had a sinking feeling in your gut telling you that you already knew just who he meant.

That and the loud "Fuck!" that came from the other side of the wall was the last push you needed to finally storm into the litchen. As soon as you walked in, it was a complete overload to your senses. The sounds and smells of sizzling food, the clunky buzzing of timers, and an argument at practically every corner. What had you reeling to a stop, though, was the sight of Carmen shouting truly throat-tearing orders, face turning red with exertion, hair damp from sweat, skin gleaming in the sight.

"Can somebody get me a Sharpie that fucking works?!" he screamed while whipping a Sharpie out of his hand and onto the ground. Your eyes widened at the sight.

"Woah," you said aloud, not even meaning to say the word but being unable to stop yourself. When you did, Carmen's focus switched onto you in a second and you could see the pure chaos held behind his eyes.

"Wh- what the fuck are you doing in here?"

You frowned at his abruptness. "I just wanted to know what the hell is going on in here-"

"Nothing is going on in here."

Someone laughed from around the corner and about three more timers began to buzz and beep.

"Oh please, I've been hearing screaming for hours and then I see Marcus storming out of here with his things saying you've lost it."

At that, Carmen paused, eyes searching yours intently. "Marcus left?"

"Yeah," you answered steadily, unsure of how exactly he'd react. "It looked like he was quitting."

For a second, it looked like Carmen felt guilty, sad, but then he was fuming and slamming his hands down on the counter.

"Fuck!" He shook his head back and forth like he was rummaging through a thousand thoughts swirling around his head. He shouted again. "Fuck!"

You didn't like the sight before you, or the way Carmen seemed to be losing control of himself, and quickly. "Now can you tell me what the problem is?" You almost pleaded. "I could help."

Carmen hardly bothered to look you in the eyes and strode past you to reach the oven you'd been standing by, lifting the lid of a pot and adjusting the heat at lightning speed.

"You're not seriously ignoring me right now when I'm offering to help-"

He put up a hand. "I told you I'd talk with you later, Mars. Go back to the register."

You scoffed. "What the hell are you talking about? That's-" you shook your head. "I'm not leaving until I at least know what the fuck is going on."

"You wanna know what the fuck is going on?" Richie shouted out, laughing to himself loudly as he appeared from behind the corner. "Some moron left the pre-order option open on her beloved tablet overnight and now we're 250-something beefs behind schedule!"

Your head was spinning from the news and from the lack of air in the kitchen, but the yelling kept coming.

"Okay, well, the 'moron' is right here and she has a name, thank you," cut in Sydney, livid. "And there is no fucking way you are putting all the blame on me right now, Richie-"

"Who else's fucking fault is it sweetheart?"

"Richie, I swear to God if you call me that one more time-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Carmen's booming voice split the two of them apart. "Shut the fuck up and get back to work!"

They listened and went back to their stations angrily mumbling to themselves. That didn't change the fact that you knew the kitchen was in deep shit and Carmen was one wrong move away from losing his mind. You watched as he stormed around the kitchen to different stations. You'd be an idiot if you just stood at the register waiting for more nonexistent orders.

"Sydney," you called out as she passed by. "What can I do to help?"

She raised the corners of her lips in a slightly surprised smile and thought for a second.

"You can probably start by helping me with peeling these potatoes for now." She handed you a basket filled with potatoes and pointed towards a metal peeler on the counter. You quickly nodded.

"Okay, on it, Chef."

"Great. Oh, and-"

"Sydney, what the fuck are you doing?" yelled Carmen as he rounded the corner behind Sydney. He glanced angrily back and forth between you and the potatoes in your hands.

Sydney rolled her eyes. "What does it look like I'm doing, Chef? I'm getting us some very much necessary extra help."

"We don't need any fucking extra help right now!"

Sydney turned fully to face him. "Carmy what the fuck is your problem right now? Just let her fucking peel some potatoes!"

Carmen was breathing heavily, a vein in his neck visibly contracting."I told you guys she stays out front. I told everyone she's not supposed to-"

"Excuse me?" You asked, cutting in. He was talking about you like you weren't standing right behind Sydney, hearing his every shouted word. "Sydney's right. You need to stop getting so worked up about this!"

Carmen looked like he wanted to scream. To break out into shouts even louder than even those from this morning. You'd only seen Carmen worked up like this a few times before and even then he knew when he was taking things too far.

He didn't say anything back to you and just turned away.

"Someone just get her out of here!" He hollered, to anyone who'd listen. Anyone but you. Somehow, that was even more angering than his yelling.

"Hey!" You yelled, shoving his shoulder back to turn him to face you. He glanced down towards the same shoulder before looking back towards you. You saw something haughty flash behind his eyes as they stared back at you. "Whatever you need to say about me, you can say it to me, Carmen."

He was definitely speaking to you now.

"I need you to stay the fuck out!" He pointed a finger down at you. "You never fucking listen to me! I gave you this job because you fucking asked me to, because Richie fucking asked me to. So how about you finally listen to me and stay the fuck out?!"

You knew everyone had stopped to watch. It was quieter in the kitchen than it had been all morning.

You both stood standing there with heavy breathing. Your mind couldn't think of what to say back in that moment, but a thousand different responses played through your mind. Things you wanted to ask, to shout, to make sure he understood.

Your stare bore into Carmen's own for a few seconds, noticing the anger in them, but also something fragile threatening to shatter and reveal itself. He looked away from you quickly, bracing a hand on the counter.

"Leave, Chef." He said. You didn't need to be asked twice. Not that he was asking.

"Yeah," you laughed under your breath. You untied your apron and left it on the counter. "I definitely will."

He could call you Chef, but he wouldn't even let you enter the kitchen. He could yell at you, but he couldn't even look you in the eyes as you finally left the kitchen.

Another timer went off in the background as Carmen stood there, mulling over what he'd just done in his head; the one thing, most of all, he didn't want to happen.

Sydney shook her head, brushing past him. "Carmen Berzatto, you are a fucking idiot."

He didn't have anything to say, nothing to argue back with. He knew she was right. And as he heard the front door jingle as a sign of you leaving, he also knew just how badly he'd fucked up.

You didn't come to work the next day, or the day after that. Carmen never got to listen for the jingle of the doorbell as you came into work. He didn't get a single glimpse of you, those glimpses that were like caffeine shots, keeping him going every day. He didn't see your warm, familiar eyes that reminded him why he kept going in the first place. This was what he got for trying to keep you at arm's length. For being an asshole. The regret knawed at him painstakingly.

When the first hour went by and you didn't show up, he didn't need anyone to tell him that you wouldn't come into work that day. He had Richie cover the register in your place, an order shouted quickly as he was forced to think about things other than you. And as the day went on, the fact that he didn't know when he'd see you again was a heavy weight that lay in his chest, waiting to be addressed.

You awoke that morning in your apartment, phone lighting up beside you on your bedside table to four missed calls all from the same person. A person you didn't really feel like talking to much.

You checked the time and saw it was almost noon. It wasn't like you to sleep in. And, you hadn't called in sick to work. Not that it mattered.

The next day went the same. You hadn't called in sick that morning either, but you didn't have it in you to care. You didn't even know if you wanted to come back, but there was a twisting feeling inside of you that you knew wouldn't feel release until you settled things with Carmen. The hard part would lay in being upfront with him, not letting him make any excuses, and not letting yourself soften all because he was Carmen Berzatto. A battle between your pride and whatever you felt for him.

Carmen had called you two more times, but soon, the calls stopped coming. Carmen may have been an asshole at times, but he wasn't an idiot. In fact, he was extremely smart. And definitely smart enough to know that calling you repeatedly would get him nowhere, not when he'd been as awful as he had.

You'd spent the day driving around running errands that left you tired with boredom. The sun was setting as you walked back to your own front door, the air crisp and clear from the cold while your mind felt anything but. You reached your front doorstep and unlocked the entrance to your apartment, only to step forward and feel something crunch and mash underneath the heel of your shoe. You lifted your foot and glanced downward.

A candy bar. You peered down further. A Mars Bar.

Something inside of you paused. Maybe your heartbeat, maybe your thoughts. You weren't sure but you could feel it. The now half-smushed candy bar lay on the floor like a bittersweet memory.

You blinked. There was a note. It looked like it had been torn from the corner of something messily. More importantly, there was writing on it, in pencil, words pressed hard into paper.

I'm an asshole. You don't deserve that.

No name, but you knew who it was from. Not a "sorry" in sight, but you knew he was trying. You could almost feel the intent behind the words etched into the paper as you held it. You wanted to be furious still. And you definitely were mad. But maybe not as much. Because you knew Carmen.

You knew he had the temper of someone who'd just lost a brother, of someone who'd grown up in a screaming Berzatto household in the heart of Chicago. You'd never taken his outbursts to heart and you didn't want to now. Besides. You knew, eventually, you'd miss him too much to ignore him.

So much for not giving in to Carmen Berzatto.

You didn't really know what plan you had when you walked back towards your car, sat down, placed the chocolate bar and note in your bag, and drove. You didn't think you had one. You just were aware that your days away from The Beef had been extremely boring and that you wanted to see Carmen. To hear what he had to say to you. Even if it didn't end the way you wanted.

The familiar path to The Beef stretched before you now as an uncertain one. When you got there, you tossed your bag over your shoulder and got out of your car to the sight of the lights off in the front of the restaurant. But, if you knew anything about Carmen, you knew he'd stay late. Your assumption was proven right when you entered through the unlocked door—a slightly concerning fact—and saw the harsh white light of the kitchen flooding through to the rest of the place.

You hesitated to enter, not sure if you really knew what you were doing, but ignored the thoughts plaguing you and walked carefully into the kitchen, waiting at the door when you saw him.

He faced mostly away from the door, from you, hunched over the counter doing something that had his full focus, enough of it that he didn't notice you at first. You saw he had a toothbrush in hand and that he was determinedly scrubbing at the silver countertop surface that already sparkled spotlessly. Clearly, he didn't notice or care.

It felt like you were holding your breath as you watched him, saw how focused he was, how the muscles in his back flexed and churned with each precise movement he made as he scrubbed at a nonexistent stain. Like he held a desire to erase more than just grime.

He did that for what felt like another minute without pause, and you watched the whole time wordlessly, not wanting to break the focus he had and not knowing what to say regardless. Part of you just wanted to watch him, to see how long he could keep at it without noticing you. It wasn't for too long.

He lifted his posture upright and ran a hand through his hair, inhaling deeply with little exhale as if something weighty was plaguing him. Then, he finally sensed your presence at the doorway, eyes flicking towards you as his moments came to a halt. You watched him part his lips as he thought about what to say.

He shakenly said your name, a fragile plea. The word was soft coming from his lips like he knew it well, but nestled in your brain with surprise as he called you by your real name, not just a nickname. You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything at all.

As he looked at you standing in the doorway, he felt exposed, like you could see through any walls he'd tried to build around himself. Words faltered from his brain. His lips parted again as if he was going to say something more, but they shut just as quickly and he ran a hand over his chin. He gestured that hand out to you.

"You uhm- did you get my note?"

You stared back at him for a beat before nodding and reaching into your bag. You held the note out in front of you, the side of your mouth quirking upwards. "Was this Carmen language for 'I'm sorry' ?"

You were half kidding and half serious, a test hidden in your words. The fact weighed on Carmen's brain, his demeanor more nervous than usual, more anxious.

"Yeah, uhm," he scrunched his eyes closed for a half second before walking towards you, taking the note from your hand and reading it to himself again, feeling the warm haze of shame creeping up on him. "Let me translate."

He read it once more. "Well, the 'I'm an asshole,' is pretty verbatim. I'm an asshole, and an idiot, and a bunch of other bad things." He glanced up at you from the paper and was relieved to see that you seemed at least a little amused. He continued. "And the 'You don't deserve that', you see, that's the good part, it translates directly to 'I'm sorry for yelling at you ' and 'it doesn't matter how stressed I was, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. That was wrong of me. And ... you're great.' "

Your eyebrows raised. "That's quite the translation."

Carmen laughed to himself breathily, but it held little amusement. "Yeah, I've been told communicating with me is like trying to tame a wild animal."

You smiled. "Who told you that?"

"Sugar."

Your laugh was warm and sounded like home. It was a feeling that left as fast as it came because soon the air between the two of you seemed to thicken with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. The heavy silence lay bare and neither of you decided to fill it right away.

"Carmen."

The way you said his name sent shivers down his spine, a sensation that never ceased to affect him. He nodded at you, eyes studying your face showing that you had his sole attention.

"I know you don't like the idea of me being here. You don't have to try and hide it." His eyes widened as you spoke."But, could you at least tell me why?"

He stared back at you, brows furrowed like he was confused. It was like you could see the gears turning in his brain as he fought to find the right wording, revealed by the stiffening mass of his shoulders that never seemed to relax.

"I don't not like you being here, Mars Bar." He spoke slowly. "I think it's great that you're back in Chicago. I ... We've missed you."

A subtle warmth lay in his gaze, but you couldn't help but feel it was dimmed by whatever emotion he'd been suppressing, the battle evident in flickers in the blue of his eyes.

"I want to believe that, but with the way you've been avoiding me, how can I?"

"Avoiding you- that's," he shook his head, almost seeming incredulous, and you watched as he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did. "I haven't been trying to avoid you."

You didn't know how he could sound surprised, how you could've interpreted the way he's acted all week as anything else. "Well that's definitely what it's felt like when I tried talking to you all week, and you're just ... I don't know, dismissive."

He rubbed a hand at the nape of his neck, focus pitched somewhere that wasn't at you, jaw tightening slightly. "I just ... it's busy around here trying to bring in enough money, and there have been a lot of different things that have my focus right now," he started, as if he hadn't, time and time again, had to remind himself to stop thinking about you.

"Carmen, I know you're busy but that-," you tried to keep your emotions from showing through your voice, but you were aware of the tinge of frustration that was slipping through. "I know that's only part of it. I just need you to be more transparent with me. I can't read your mind."

He nodded, silently thanking God that you couldn't. He swallowed again and you noticed a tremor in the way he held the note he'd written, a sign of unease that he quickly hid in the pocket of his jeans.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know." His blue eyes stared into yours, though you could sense the reluctance in his voice. "But I'm not gonna lie and say that I think it's a good idea for you to stay here."

You felt yourself frown, brows tugging downwards in frustration and confusion. "Why?"

His gaze faltered for just a moment, seeming torn, but he was quick to regain his momentum. "This place is ... it's not meant for someone like you."

You squinted at him, feeling a mix of disbelief and irritation. "Someone like me?"

"Yeah, I just mean," he hesitated, hearing the way you repeated his words, like they were meant to insult. "You were supposed to leave here and finish your studies abroad and achieve great things. Things bigger and better than this shit hole. You were gonna-"

"Carmen, stop." You almost scoffed to yourself. "My plans were always to stay close to home. A few months abroad weren't gonna change that." The air in the room seemed to thicken with the weight of the words you both shared, the thoughts never said allowed before. You noticed your breathing was becoming labored as you failed to understand the way Carmen's mind worked, the way he tried to communicate so much by doing so little.

"This whole time you were worried about me supposedly being meant to achieve great things, but what about you?" You let out a stunned laugh. "You're the one who studied with the best of the best, traveled all over, became a world-class chef and everything else, and now you're overworking yourself at this place and refusing help."

"Yeah, well, that part of my life stopped when Mikey gave this place to me as a final fuck you, so."

Your heart twinged not only at the name, but at the way Carmen's eyes flashed with hurt while his words could've cut stone.

"Mikey gave this place to you because he trusted you," you reasoned. You tried to make him come down from wherever he was, to detach himself from the hurt and open up. The hard plane of his shoulders lifted once in a shrug, with a small shake of his head as he stared at the ground.

"Yeah well, he just ended up fucking screwing me over."

Carmen's frustration seeped into his voice, the way he emphasized each word like he wanted to release whatever was simmering under the surface. You wanted to reach out, tell him that he could, but you held yourself back and stood up taller.

"That doesn't mean you should push people away from this place. Push me away. I could help out here. I saw how hectic it was the last time I was here and-"

"That day was a fluke," Carmen cut you off. "It's not usually like that..." his jaw worked. "I'm not usually like that." His words were laced with exasperation and a little bit of shame. You could tell he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

"Carmen, I understand. But-"

"I already blew up at you." His voice cut into the air harshly. He looked away, his chest rising as he tried to control rising frustration. "I didn't mean to do that, I don't... I'm not gonna let that happen again." His words were starting to come out in a rush, escaping his control, something you knew never sat well with him.

"Well, that's my choice to make, Carmen, not one that you can make for me."

"Mars, The Beef isn't- you don't want to settle for this place, just trust me."

"How can I trust you when you've done nothing but push me away since I got here?" You heard the tremble that was growing in your own voice, a mix of hurt and anger. "You've told me a million times what I want and don't want. Have you ever stopped to ask me what I wanted? Seen my point of view?"

Carmen's breathing was picking up too, the crystals that were his eyes looking at you with a mixture of defiance and desperation. He ran a hand over his face.

"I've tried to see your point of view."

"Have you?" you snapped back.

"I gave you the job even though I knew it was a bad idea, I went against what I knew just because it was you and I let Richie convince me it was a good idea, and I am fucking done listening to Richie's ideas-" his breathing was becoming uneven as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

"Hey, Richie's done a lot more to help me since I've gotten back than you have, and a lot more listening!" Now you were yelling, and he was yelling and you didn't like the direction this was going.

"Yeah, well did Richie tell you this place was hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt when Mikey gave it to me? Did he tell you we probably couldn't even afford to pay you a decent fucking salary?"

You opened your mouth, expecting to be equipped with a response as fast as the ones that came before, but that didn't happen and you didn't say anything. You let your eyes scan Carmen, searching for a hint that he wasn't serious, but he looked wholeheartedly sincere and angered. In fact, he looked like he was fighting to even breathe steadily.

You looked at him concernedly, taking a step closer, but he just continued, laughing to himself without joy. "He didn't fucking tell you. Of course not."

His breaths were harsh, coming from his nose and lifting his chest repeatedly. His arms slapped down at his sides, hands trembling. "See, that's why I fucking told him I didn't want you anywhere near this crap hole, I fucking told him-"

His yelling stopped. He recoiled, backing up into the counter recklessly, a pot falling behind him with a clang that had you flinching. His vision was pointed downwards towards the ground, but he was frowning so hard you were sure he couldn't see anything at all, hand to his chest, gripping.

"Carmen?" You asked, alarm suddenly overtaking you and washing away whatever anger had been bubbling inside of you. "Wh- are you okay?"

It took him a second to even process what you'd said, another to respond. "I'm fine, I-" you put a hand on his shoulder to brace him, feeling how tense it was, feeling it trying to move with the effort of his shallow breaths. Panic, shame, embarrassment, everything, seemed to claw at his chest, constricting his breathing even more. "I just- fuck, I can't- I can't-"

"You can't breathe," you said, understanding what was going on now with another flash of alarm that you hid, trying to stay calm. He nodded shakily.

"Carmen," you said steadily. To him, the sound of your voice was distant, overshadowed by the sound of his heart pounding loudly in his ears, muffled the way voices sounded when from underwater. Carmen knew he wasn't underwater. You called his name again, and he did his best to hear it. "You're having a panic attack."

He managed to shake his head again. "I'm fine. I just- shit." His legs practically gave out from underneath him and he braced one hand on the table behind him, one on your shoulder.

The sight of Carmen collapsing to the ground had you wanting to release a sob, but instead, you threw Carmen's arm around you and somehow managed to take two steps towards a bucket that was on the floor against a near wall and got him to sit down on it unsteadily.

You took both of his hands in yours, noticing how his shoulders shook, how the bottom of his neck tinted red from the straining effort to breathe.

"Carmen," you called, kneeling down to his level and giving his hands a squeeze. His vision was blurred, staring downwards, but the hazy sight of his hands wrapped up in yours gave his mind a moment's peace before he was struggling to focus again.

You took a deep breath in, feeling selfish that you even could. "Carm, do your best to look at me." You purposefully slowed your words, spoke softly and clearly, and Carmen heard. You took one hand and rested it by his cheek, hair pooling into your fingers. You brushed it back, and ran your thumb across the rise of his cheekbone, lifting his face to look upwards at you. Even when his mind could hardly form coherent thoughts, your touch still affected him like no one else's.

Once his eyes were on you, you took the hand that was still holding his and placed both on your own chest, covering the area of warm skin close enough to feel your heartbeat. A tremor rolled through him, at your hand, at the way you felt, at your touch.

You. You were here, he thought, and that was a comfort to him in itself.

"Here," you said, pressing down gently but firmly on his hand. "Can you feel my heartbeat?"

Carmen tried, really tried, but his head wasn't focusing no matter what he did. You noticed his struggle right away, like he didn't even have to form words for you to know.

Hurriedly, you took off your jacket and threw it to the ground beside you. Carmen heard the sound of a zipper before his hand was taken in yours again and placed on your chest. This time, the underside of his hand felt warmer, closer to you, to skin.

"How about now?" you asked. His eyes were shut, and he really did his best to focus this time, tune into you, into the way your chest moved up and down beneath his hand, and with it, he heard the soft and steadying rhythm of your heartbeat.

"Yeah, I- I feel it."

You let yourself smile slightly, trying to take slow and deliberate breaths. "Carmen, I need you to do your best to match your breathing with mine." You looked at him and the way his features were scrunching with the effort of trying to listen to you. "Can you do that for me?"

He nodded. He'd do anything for you.

He focused on only his hand, yours, and you. Your chest underneath his palm, warm, and steadying, and alive. He felt it rise once, and fall, all in the time that he let out multiple staggering breaths.

The next time yours rose, he didn't let himself exhale until you did, taking in air from his parted lips and releasing it through his nose, feeling how the air spread thin throughout his body, a good feeling. He did that again, focused on the way his fingertips grazed bare skin, on the sound of your heart beating, in time with his now.

Behind the blank nothingness of his eyelids, scenes played out before him. Visions of his past, echos of familiar voices, spurts of color and light overtaking him.

Then, he thought of you, of the warmth of your gaze, even if he didn't deserve it. The shine of your skin, the way it looked soft even in the harsh light of the kitchen. Thoughts of you, you with him, years ago, months ago, and days, how he'd seen you for the first time in months, standing behind the counter with a smile sweet like the chocolate bars you'd always liked, the one he'd left at your doorstep, a weak attempt at salvaging one of the best relationships he'd ever known. He'd buy a million more if it meant you'd stay with him, by his side, like you'd been for years. Like you were now.

He didn't know how much time had gone by, but he opened his eyes and you were still there, still holding onto him, face looking calm but eyes swirling with emotion. With concern.

He felt fine now, his body having enough strength to support him, but he leaned into you regardless, head sunk down, resting in the place beneath your chin, on your chest. He wanted to get as close to your heartbeat as possible, not just feel it with his hand but surround himself with it.

You brought your hands up to envelop him, one resting on the white cotton covering the hard muscles of his back, rubbing it soothingly, the other coming up to rest in his hair again, gently brushing through the strands closest to the root as if to say I'm here, I have you.

You leaned your own head down to slightly rest on the back of his, mouth brushing against the crown of his head in a way so delicate he wasn't even sure he felt it. But you saw the way he melted into your touch, felt the way the muscles in his back slowly seemed to release tension at each caress. He needed to be held. But he was him, he'd never ask for it. But, you were you, and you'd always know.

You stayed like that for minutes more, though you would've held him all night if he needed it. When he sat back up, the whites of his eyes were tinted pink, and one of his cheeks was gleaming in the light, damp. You didn't comment on it. You didn't say anything at all but stood up from where you knelt and walked towards the counters, peeking underneath them until you found what you needed. You stopped at the sink and returned to your spot in front of Carmen with a plastic deli container filled with water in hand. You offered it to him wordlessly.

"Thank you," he said, taking it from you gingerly, but his voice was hoarse and he felt the red heat of embarrassment as he took large sips of the water, draining it halfway at once. A water droplet escaped from the side of the cup, dripping down his chin, and your eyes followed the movement until you felt guilty about it and stared down at your own hands. The two of you let the silence rest as it was, peaceful and healing, until you felt ready to break it.

"I'm sorry," you said, slightly a surprise for yourself to hear the words from your mouth, but you meant them. Carmen sat back up. "For pushing you to this point. I didn't mean to-"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Carmen spoke quietly, voice somehow steady. "It- ... that wasn't your fault. It's happened before, when you weren't here."

You let your eyes scan over his face concernedly because he wasn't looking straight at you and you always felt the need to look after him, even if he wouldn't let you.

"This has happened before?" Carmen gave a weak shrug, like this wasn't something he thought about on his own, something he ever let occupy his focus.

"Something like it."

You made a breathy sound of disbelief. "Shit, Carmen."

So many thoughts were demanding your attention, too many. You wanted to tell him how this wasn't supposed to be a normal occurrence, how not okay it was to ignore his mental well-being. Shake him silly for never caring about the right things, for never caring about himself enough. To give him yet another lecture on letting you help him, on letting anyone help him.

"It wasn't as bad this time." His voice paused all your thoughts. "I think it was because you were here."

You didn't know how to respond, but he finally looked into your eyes and saw how much they spoke for you, how they widened, and then blinked once or twice, shying away. Almost like you were guilty, like you were sad. Something inside of him reminded him that he was probably part of the reason for that, and that ate away at him more deeply than any of his, like you said, panic attacks, ever had.

"I'm sorry, Mars."

Your eyes flicked up to his immediately, intention behind them. "You never need to apologize for having a panic attack, Carmen."

"No, for- for not just that." He paused. "For being an ass. For yelling at you. For not listening to you."

You looked at him wordlessly. You didn't want to say it was okay, because you'd be lying if you said that, if you didn't acknowledge how his words still rang sharply in your head. But you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that Carmen certainly made things feel okay when he was calm like this, understanding. Peaceful.

"And I'm sorry for all the shit I gave you about not listening to me."

You let out a quick breath, almost a laugh. "To be fair, I ... didn't."

His heart seemed to swell at even just the hint of laughter that coated your voice.

"Yeah. You don't listen to me." He let the side of his mouth quirk up to match yours. "That's the thing I love about you." Internally he thought, just one of many.

You stared up at him. At the way his eyes seemed to look over your face in adoration. It did something to your heart, pulled on the strings of it, and left it panging in your chest. He noticed right away.

"You alright?" His concern and furrowed brows almost made you want to laugh.

"Yes I'm-," you exhaled. "I'm fine. The real question is, are you alright?" He watched as your eyes flitted all around his face. "To be honest, you don't seem it."

He self-deprecatingly chuckled. "Wow, thanks, Mars."

You shook his arm a little bit, expression disbelieving. "I'm serious."

You thought about how tense he'd been underneath your touch, how tense he'd seemed for the many days that you'd been back home. How that couldn't be healthy for anyone.

"You need to start taking better care of yourself, Carmen." You made sure he was hearing your every word. "Your mental health is important. More important than any job. You have to stop worrying so much about The Beef and start worrying more about you."

He ran a tired hand over his eyes, immediately feeling the urge to look away. "If I didn't put as much as I did into this place, I don't even think it'd still be up and running."

You let the words hang between the both of you for a moment, knowing how important this was to him. It was important to you too.

"I know how much you've done for this place, Carm." You took his hand in yours again. "You care about it a lot, always have. I have too. But you know the toll it's taking on you. That's not good for anyone, and it'll only last so long. And ... that's why I think you should take any help you can get, for now."

As soon as the topic left your lips again, you felt his hand stiffen in your hand, mouth opening to argue, but you held up a hand.

"And before you say anything, I don't care about the full salary, I don't I care about traveling, or 'wasting my potential' or any of that. I care about helping this place, making sure it lasts, for Mikey." You breathed. "And for you. I care about you."

He could feel his own heart start to race in his chest, flustered like he hadn't known you for years, like you weren't one of his oldest friends.

"I care about you too," he said, and the words felt shamefully foreign on his tongue, thinking about how little he'd ever actually said the words. "That's part of why it's hard for me to think about you working here. You mean a shit ton to me. More than anyone else in this damn place."

"You don't mean that." You couldn't stop the way your brows pushed together, looking down at your hand that was holding Carmen's rough and callused ones. "What about Richie, or Fak, or Sydney-"

"They mean a shit ton to me too, but it's ... not the same. You're you."

He looked into your eyes, trying to see if you'd recognized his hints, but he picked up emotions other than the realization. On a frown, on reluctance, on a guarded, shy look.

"I'll always be me, Carmen." You bit at the inside of your cheek, putting off the topic like you weren't important. That was a foreign idea to him. "That doesn't matter. What matters is you not accepting help."

You saw the way his demeanor shifted at your words, a sense of uncomfortableness settling in his bones, revealing itself in the way he sat up straighter. Your grip on his hands was still firm, unwavering, like all you wanted was to make him understand.

"Carmen," you called, but he was already staring at you. "Promise me that you'll let other people take care of you, help you get by. Let me help you."

He was grateful for the way he was positioned, elbows leaning on knees, hands held by yours, because it was stabilizing him, grounding him when he felt like running. He knew that if he wanted to keep you around, keep you by him, he couldn't do that. That didn't change the fact that this was new to him.

"I, um,"

"It doesn't have to all at once." You gave him a smile, a real one, because you knew he was trying. Breaking out of old habits, for you. "One step at a time."

You were back home. Him pushing you away in his head, running, but only in his mind, didn't change that. He didn't want it to. Despite the pull of his mind telling him to hold you at a distance, the push of his heart wanted you. It was drawn to the cradle of your hands, the warmth of your smile.

"I promise."

Your smile grew to a grin that tugged at the sides of your glowing eyes, eyes that sparkled with affection like they held a hidden invitation, a plea for him to let you in. He finally did, and he knew so fully that he would've made that promise to you time and time again if it meant he could have you and see that smile as much as he wanted.

Your fingers brushed the back of his hands as you stood up from where you were kneeling, letting out an exhale that he noticed sounded almost weightless, a change from the burdened way it sounded to him before. The thought put him at ease.

He stood up too, watching you as you retrieved your jacket and put it on, him feeling the urge to help you with even just that. When you focused back on him, the etches of a smile still lingering on your face, it was magnetic. He couldn't look away. You couldn't either.

You stared at the way a hundred different colors danced in the blue of his eyes, a miraculous feat that you'd loved from the start. As you looked at each other, eyes saying more than your mouths had the courage to, your smile grew slowly, heartbeat picking up in your chest.

"Let me walk you to your car," you coaxed, gesturing towards the door. He laughed at the random idea, breaths escaping through his nose.

"What? Why?"

You shrugged, smile and features and everything, warm. "Call it the first step to you fulfilling your promise to me."

Knowing how he'd iced you out, he embraced that warmth. Made it his new home. "Yeah," he nodded. "Okay."

You gestured for him to follow you, he did, and that was all he had to do. You turned off the lights behind the both of you, locked the door, and didn't ask him to do a thing, just to see the amused look on his face when you smiled at him, his eyes staring back at yours like you were a wonder, something rare to be loved and kept safe.

As you walked back to his car, that was all he could think about. How he'd come across this ray of light in his life that was you, and how you'd stayed by his side, a miraculous idea but he didn't even want to dwell on that too much because it took him away from this moment being shared between the two of you, alone, the cold nipping at your skin but it not mattering because too much had happened that night to care.

The moment seemed to come to an end all too quickly. Carmen had stopped once you'd both reached his car, and you did too. He became aware of the feeling of you next to him, savoring it because he knew it'd end the moment he got into his car.

"Carmy," you said, extending the moment just a little longer. He hummed in response, watching as you stuffed your hands in your coat pockets.

"Can you promise me one more thing?"

He nodded, not missing a beat. " Yeah, anything." Something inside of you fluttered. You cast it aside to hold his gaze.

"Promise me you'll always try and tell me what's going on in your head. No more hiding."

His eyes bore into yours like he was contemplating something, a flicker of conflict in them, a vulnerability that you didn't know what to think of. Then, it was gone and you weren't even sure you'd seen it.

"Yeah, I- um," his jaw tightened for a second. "I promise, Mars."

You patted him on the shoulder, a friendly gesture that felt phony even to you. "Great ... that's great."

He flashed a closed-mouthed smile and you both stood there on the sidewalk for a moment, not saying a word.

"Goodnight," you told him, because it was what you would've said to anyone else at that moment, ignoring the whispers in your mind telling you something was missing, that Carmen wasn't just anyone else.

Something tugged at him too, nagging him, insisting that he had more to tell you, more to say before the night was really over, before he had to go to work the next day and somehow navigate his day with the new promises he'd made you. But all he said was "Goodnight, Mars," before getting in his car with just a wave goodbye that felt bare and wrong.

You left him one more of your smiles through the passenger window of his car before walking off to wherever you'd parked your own. He was sure he'd felt butterflies. Butterflies.

Only you could do this to him. He'd felt numb, overwhelmed and unsatisfied all the same time for however long, and then you come back to Chicago and suddenly he felt everything, all the time. It was getting to him, clearly, because he found himself opening his car door and stepping out of it, losing control of his body, loosening his grip of rationality all because of you. Because he wanted to see you, needed to. He needed you.

You were a good distance away from his car by the time he'd gotten out of his, but you turned around at the sound of the car door practically slamming. You frowned, noticing Carmen walking towards you.

"Carmen?" you called into the night, confused. He caught up with you, something behind his gaze that had his eyes shimmering. You swore you could feel the delicate movement of his eyes across your face as soon as he was near enough to truly take it in.

He took hold of your hand, fingers interlocking with yours delicately, an electrifying feeling buzzing through you. You let out a small gasp at the contact, vision shooting down at the point at which you both touched, just a hand hold but the contact took your full focus.

"Hey," he said, something like a smile creeping onto his features and you'd never seen him like this, so exhilarated and full of delicate determination. You looked back up into his eyes, and he took a step closer, finally letting himself be pulled by that magnetic force calling him to you that he couldn't resist. He wouldn't, anyway.

"Wh-," you started, meaning to question him but the thought was brushed aside when he leaned inwards, his forehead falling against yours. His curls brushed against the top of your head, and you secretly loved the feeling, becoming breathless.

"You can tell me to stop, Mars." He murmured it so close to you, breath fanning onto your cheek in a distracting but addictive way, and suddenly you were forgetting how to talk. It didn't matter, because you didn't want him to stop. You looked back up at him, and he saw that in your eyes, so he didn't.

His lips brushed against yours, a taste of what he'd been wanting for longer than he could even remember. The feeling it sent throughout him was immobilizing, and he stayed like that, eyes shut, reveling in it.

It was you who closed the distance, pressing your lips to his and letting the dizzying wave from it spread all over you, to the tips of your fingers that immediately reached up to hold his firm shoulders, and to your brain that buzzed in joy and excitement and a bit of something else.

He froze up for a second when he felt your lips crashing into his. Your lips on his felt like the answers to all his problems, and he needed them in a burning, unignorable way. His brows furrowed and his hands reached up to cradle your neck delicately, holding you like you were more valuable than anything he could've bought, anything he could've wished for, could've imagined he could possibly have.

His lips tugged on yours and yours tugged back, a rhythm that felt easy to follow, like the deep thrum of a heartbeat. And when you both finally pulled apart for air, it was like you could still feel that rhythm, because your heartbeats were beating so loudly and in time with each other's that it felt like the moment was never meant to come to an end.

Your foreheads were still connected, and you knew neither of you had it in you to pull away. You felt somehow even more breathless.

"What was that for?" Your voice was soft, hoarse. You swore you saw Carmen's lip quirk upwards.

"I promised to not hide what was going on in my head." Your hands came up to delicately wrap around his biceps, impossibly solid underneath your fingertips. He didn't suppress the shudder that traveled through him. "Call that the first step."

You smiled, this time against his lips, and somehow that beat every single smile you'd ever given him before. It felt like a promise of your own, to share your warmth with him from now on. He liked the idea, a lot. He'd let you do it whenever you wanted, he liked it that much.

He'd let you take care of him whenever you wanted, too. Again and again, until you got sick of him. But he was Carmen Berzatto. You knew you never would.

[heliads]

You Agreed to This

Pierre Gasly has a reputation for flirting with anything that breathes. You have a reputation for being scarily focused on racing. When Charles, Lando, and Esteban get it into their heads to dare Pierre to get you to fall in love with him, the results can only be tragic.

a/n: i was frustrated when i couldn't find fics with this vague plotline like two months ago and then i remembered that i can simply make them myself. anyway this is my longest fic to date (6k+ words), enjoy!

masterlist

The whole affair started in the recesses of the Alpine motorhome, too far from prying eyes and chances to stop before it got bad. Miami is boiling hot as per usual, it gets to Pierre just like it always does. He’s trying to fend off the heat by hiding somewhere deep within his team’s complex, team jacket stripped off somewhere on a nearby sofa and fans cranked on high. 

It was just Pierre at the beginning, but drivers tend to flock together in times of heat related stress, and now there are four of them sprawled across floors and furniture in an attempt to alleviate their suffering. Charles found Pierre first, just like he usually does, then Lando followed after media duties were over, and Esteban was last, claiming that if this many rival drivers were there he had a right to die in his own motorhome too, god damn it.

Pierre has mixed thoughts on that. He has mixed thoughts on quite a lot, actually– the blistering temperatures are getting to him, swirling memories into fact into fiction. He’ll get his head in order when it comes time to race, but that won’t happen until tomorrow, once qualis are in order and they’ve all been shunted around for the grid lineup.

Across the room, Lando groans from the shadows of a functionally decorated armchair. “This is miserable.”

Pierre gives him a look. “Your complaining is miserable.” 

Undeterred, Lando keeps up his protests. “We should do something fun. Pierre, don’t you know like a thousand people here? Invite someone over.”

Pierre snorts. “I don’t know all of Miami, Lando. Go to sleep or something.”

Esteban chuckles. “Could have fooled me. Didn’t you tag, like, a hundred people in your latest Instagram story?”

Pierre turns his head to glare at his teammate. They’re still supposed to be friends as of three or so months of being racing partners, but apparently that association doesn’t go so far as requiring Esteban to defend him. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

Charles shakes his head, grinning. “It’s the truth, let him speak. You have connections.”

Lando flings a dramatic arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight pouring in through the windows. They’ve all been shut with the blinds pulled down, of course, but some warmth has a way of coming in regardless of what anyone wants. “Pierre’s just sociable like that. He could win over anybody. Or flirt with anybody.”

Pierre rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Norris.”

Charles arches a brow. “What would he be jealous of, your losing streak? I saw you strike out trying to talk up Margot Robbie last time we were in Monaco, don’t lie to me.”

“That was different,” Pierre protests, “she’se literally married, what did you expect?”

Charles coughs pointedly. “Yet you flirted with her anyway. Anyways, don’t argue. You can’t flirt with everybody. Not successfully, at least.”

Pierre leans forward cautiously. “What does that mean?”

Charles laughs. “There’s one person you could never charm in a thousand years.”

Pierre sighs, answers Charles’ unspoken question in time with his friend. “Y/N L/N?”

“Y/N L/N,” Charles confirms, and the other three drivers break into identical grins.

Pierre can accept defeat on that front. Y/N L/N is the only female driver on the grid at the moment, and anyone can tell why she made it despite the odds mere moments after meeting her. She’s crazy intense, more dedicated to racing than even Max or Lewis. Pierre wouldn’t be surprised if she could win a driver’s championship in the next year or two. Talk to her once and you’ll be stunned that she hasn’t done it yet.

Every time Pierre, or any other driver or spectator for that matter, has tried to chat her up, they always end up shut down faster than you can spin out on a slick track with the wrong tires. She doesn’t have time for any of them. The girl lives and breathes and dies for racing, she’s not going to let something like a boy get in her way.

This only makes Pierre more tempted to keep up with her, of course, but he learned a long time ago that was a lost cause. The only reason Y/N would ever look twice at him is if he was a place ahead of her during a race, and given her knack for overtakes, that doesn’t happen all that often.

Lando sits forward, and Pierre decides that he doesn’t like the gleam in the younger boy’s eyes. “Say, I’ve got a great idea to stave off boredom. Pierre, go date Y/N.”

Pierre almost chokes. “Are you insane? Just like that, go date her? How would that help you in any way?”

Lando spreads his hands. “If it would be so easy for you to flirt with anybody, how about you prove it? Surely Y/N isn’t so far out of your league. You’re both in the same line of work, at least you’ve got that going for you.”

Pierre opens his mouth to fight this. He may have a bit of a cocky streak, sure, but he’s a driver, who amongst them doesn’t? Just as he starts to get himself out of this, though, Esteban speaks up instead.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Pierre couldn’t even come close. None of us can.” Esteban says it like a fact, and that’s all it takes for Pierre to change his tune.

“You know what?” He says, feeling his adrenaline start to kick in, “Sure I can.”

Charles’ eyes widen. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m always serious about girls,” Pierre says, causing a ripple of groans to cascade around the room, “This time I am, at least. I’ll win her over, no problem.”

Lando sits up. “If you’re really doing this, we’ve got to set some rules.”

“Such as?” Pierre dares him to continue.

Charles taps a thoughtful hand on his leg. “It has to be more than a one time thing. Just a single conversation could be a fluke or her feeling bad for you.”

Outraged, Pierre starts to fight that, but Lando picks up the thread of the conversation before he can cut it short. “That makes sense. We have to be sure that she’s actually in love with you. Like, get her to kiss you or something? And pics or it didn’t happen. We need proof.”

Pierre snickers, trying not to feel like control is slipping out of his hands with each passing second. “Anything else? Want me to name our firstborn child after you?”

That makes Esteban crack up. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think? We’ll settle for being named godfather. All three of us collectively.”

Pierre shakes his head incredulously. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Charles slaps him on the back. “You have to believe in yourself, Pierre. If you don’t, she’ll never fall for it.”

And so Pierre Gasly gets himself stuck in the con of a lifetime. Is it going to work? The odds are abysmal. Will he make it, though? Well, Pierre never likes to back down from a challenge. He’s not going to let this one get away from him so easily.

The sun is bright and the morning is tense in the paddock. You arrived early, earlier than most of the drivers, all so you could get a taste of what the track was like without anyone breathing down your neck. Some would call you a little too eager, others would say you’re plain stressed out and nothing more to it.

You’d give yourself a little more credit than that, though. You know exactly who you are and what you have to prove. The more time you give yourself to plan and acclimate, the less time there is for mistakes.

That isn’t to say that you ignore all the comments on your pre-race habits. You are well aware of your reputation, even proud of it. You wear it as a second skin, a racing suit, a livery specially designed to flaunt your own achievement. The whispers of those out and about in the world of motorsport follow you wherever you go, dogging your footsteps until you half expect to leave streams of words behind you instead of burned rubber.

That’s Y/N L/N. The one who only cares about the track? The one who lives and dies for racing? That’s the one. That’s the one.

There’s not much else to it. So what if you tend to be a little more intense than most? Being serious is the only method of survival available to you. You can be sweet and fun, play yourself off as the ditzy girl who only got in so her team could capitalize on brand deals, or you can be a woman without a feminine bone in her body, so far from girlish she chokes whenever she sees the color pink. Both are awful alternatives, so you choose the only one you can:  ignore every box they try to push you in until everyone else gives up. Let them whisper. At least they aren’t trying to change you anymore.

That’s how you’ve navigated the paddock up until now, the entirety of racing life as you know it. It’s worked out in your favor, or so you’d say, at least. You push yourself on and off track. You answer the unfair questions they throw at you. You solve the mysteries of why someone is taking an involvement in your affairs and come out on top of any possible rumors.

There are mysteries, though, and then there’s the latest one, which is why on Earth Pierre Gasly has taken to following you around the paddock. They all did, at the start; the drivers, the fans, the interviewers, even the team bosses, all staring at you like you were in a circus exhibition. A girl in motorsport? Couldn’t be. Yet it is. 

That’s mostly drifted off, though, the attention gone once they realized you weren’t interested in belonging to any of them. Most of them did it unintentionally, of course, and the few who got too close on purpose quickly learned they would get nothing from you. Pierre learned that himself, or so you thought. That doesn’t stop his attention from surging up again all of a sudden.

It’s been a solid few weeks of this behavior, and you’re still no closer to understanding it than you were at the start. If you were to put an initial date on this whole affair, you’d maybe say everything began back in Miami. All of a sudden, Pierre, who up until now had accepted that you weren’t interested in him even if he didn’t like that all too much, had decided to renew his affections once more. 

Where you had been content to walk briskly through the paddock by yourself, Pierre is suddenly a few feet behind you, always ready to offer a bottle of water when you need it or issue a joking comment when you seem in need of a laugh. He’s playing his cards carefully, always disappearing the moment you start to take his presence for granted, but why, you cannot tell. Everyone here has a motive. Surely Pierre Gasly has one as well.

You weren’t willing to trust him at first, ignoring him throughout the Miami race and all sessions at Imola. The only angle worth your while is your own, and maybe your constructor’s, too. Still, he stayed. That has to count for something.

And, when the end of a race finds you absolutely desolate after an engine failure, that starts to count a little more than it would have before. This race is early enough in the year that the DNF doesn’t have to sting too much, but all you can think about is how you just gave Max, Charles, and the rest of the title competitors the leg up they need to beat you out.

It’s not a good feeling, to say the least. You find some empty corner of the paddock where you can be alone and let your emptiness consume you. That was your plan, at least, but you’ve only been able to wallow in your own misery for about ten minutes or so before someone else joins you. The only other driver to fail to complete the necessary laps:  Pierre.

Pierre may not have had engine problems like you, but that doesn’t make him any luckier. George Russell spun wide on a turn and took out Pierre before righting himself again. George got off relatively easy for a crash, only needed to swap out some tires and his front wing, but Pierre took the brunt of it and ended up in the barriers. You heard him swearing, frustrated, on the radio after the race; the commentators loved that one, even if he didn’t.

That leaves both of you in the same undesirable position. Pierre arches a brow as he takes in the sight of you:  legs pulled up to your chest where you sit slumped against the wall, expression hopeless and all ambition gone for the moment.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, “I’m trying to hide from Sky Sports.”

You gesture vaguely at the open floor next to you. “Feel free. I'm not too thrilled about hearing from them, either.”

Pierre collapses in an untidy heap of limbs by your side, pulling at the collar of his race suit so he can unzip it down to his waist, leaving only the long sleeved shirt clinging to his skin. “At least engine failure is something you can’t control. Everyone’s been all over me trying to get me to admit that I should have seen George coming.”

You wrinkle your brow. “That wasn’t your fault. He braked late, it was obvious.”

Pierre glances over at you, clearly fighting a laugh. “Obvious, huh?”

You look away, wondering why you feel embarrassed all of a sudden. You don’t lie when it comes to racing, why bother? Thanks to the vast supplies of driver cameras and radio clips, there’s no point in glossing over what everyone knows to be true. Still, Pierre has a way of making that feel like something you should think twice about, like maybe not all of your attitudes towards drivers and their habits are things you should speak freely on. Maybe some things can be kept just to yourself. Maybe some drivers are beginning to verge beyond mere functionality as competitors.

“Everyone saw it,” you justify, “bad timing, that’s all. Not something you could control no matter how much space you gave him.”

Pierre nods solemnly. “The engine wasn’t your fault either, by the way. There was nothing you could have done to make it work again. You can’t limp through a problem like that.”

You tilt your head back, staring up at the ceiling above you. “I tried, though.”

“I know,” Pierre says. They’re only two words, but for some reason they make you feel better than any of the minutes spent listening to your engineers’ speeches on how they would fix that issue by the next race.

Judging by the slight smile on Pierre’s face, he must know that too. When the seconds stretch into minutes and you never tell Pierre to go, that smile only deepens. The conversation leaves the race eventually, and you end up talking about silly things like movies you’d like to see or places you want to go but never have. You don’t know that you’ve ever spoken to another driver like this before. You don’t know that you could with anyone else.

You have to leave that corner eventually, called away by a team principal with apologies in order. Pierre departs around the same time, claiming that he can’t run from the interviewers forever. You steal one last glance at him over your shoulder as you go, and can’t help but notice the grin on his face. It’s broader than before, proud of something; what, you can’t tell. Despite the fact that both of you have failed out of the race, you still get the feeling that Pierre has won at something more than you today. 

Charles releases an Instagram post later that day of him, Pierre, and a few other drivers out at a club. You see it, and spend too much time wondering how long you have to wait after a photo is posted to like it so it’s not weird. What you don’t see is the conversation that happened later, how Pierre triumphantly told the rest that he was closer than they’d ever believe. You don’t see it, and the next time you see him, you stop to talk with a ready smile.

So it goes the next race, and the next one, and the next. Pierre is there. So are you. You end up finding him eventually; as time goes on, it’s not just Pierre seeking you out but the other way around, too. It’s even, both of you wanting each other just as often as the other. Eventually, you have to admit defeat to the voice in the back of your head telling you that you might have misread Pierre after all. Maybe he’s not just a horrific flirt. Maybe he can be a friend.

And, leaning over the railing of Pierre’s room in the Alpine motorhome so you can feel the gentle wind on your face while you stare out at the paddock, you think you would be alright if there was something more, too. You swore to yourself you’d never even think about another driver in that way, too scared of all your efforts to distinguish yourself from everyone’s expectations for female drivers being for naught, but it might be okay if it was Pierre. Pierre is different, nothing like the rest. It would be alright if it was him.

Pierre stands by your side, back straight and posture perfect as he surveys the mess of people milling about some floors below. “Nervous for the race?”

You tilt your head to the side, considering the question. “As much as anyone, I guess. I like this track, though. Should be good.”

Pierre nods, smiling at that. “And what about me? Am I going to be good, too?”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t need me to tell you that.” 

He doesn’t; this is one of Pierre’s best tracks. He should be up for a podium or at least high in the points if everything goes according to plan.

He just grins. “Indulge me.”

You give him a pointed stare, then head back into the room. “You’re an ass.”

Pierre follows. “You love me, though.”

A pause. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He asks, unable to disguise a slight shine of surprise from entering his eyes, like despite all the luck he’d had recently, Pierre still didn’t think he would get this far.

You lift your shoulder in a half-shrug, unwilling to commit to anything further. You feel as if you’re standing on a lake frozen over, aware that any wrong move could shatter the ice beneath your feet.

Pierre moves towards the door, and for one horrified moment you think he’s actually going to leave right then and there before you realize he’s closing it instead. He turns back once he’s sure no passersby can see you, and then he’s kissing you and you can’t worry about anything else. Not even the race. Not even the threat that this might send you spiraling until you’re so lost on him that you won’t be able to think straight for the rest of your life.

He leans back at last, smiling at you with the same smile you think you saw on a podium on Monza when he first won a race in F1. “We could have done that earlier,” he whispers, not daring to disturb the quiet victory of the room.

“We could have,” you answer him. Every driver hates losing time. This is no exception.

Your head is light with the most wonderful feeling, and then over Pierre’s shoulder you see something strange. He left the door open. Cracked halfway, even though this door is notorious for never staying open right. He would have had to try to keep it like this. He would have wanted it to be that way for a reason.

Pierre’s phone vibrates and he grimaces, murmuring something about having to talk to one of his engineers before slipping out of the room. He kisses you one last time before he leaves, a quiet touch pressed to your cheek. He takes great care to ensure that you do not see the message blinking up from his screen, and when he goes, you notice that he does not have to turn the knob, only pull open an already ajar door.

Something is wrong. The longer you stand there, alone in Pierre’s room, the more you start to think, and what you think about is not good at all. The timing of the text message. The look on his face when he left. Nothing is adding up.

Voices drift to you down the hall as you stand there wondering, Pierre’s among them. You walk slowly forward, unable to fight a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach like something is about to go very, very poorly. You usually trust your instincts. As it turns out, they won’t be wrong now.

Pierre is standing in a meeting room down the hall, talking in hushed voices to a few other drivers. As you draw closer, you recognize them. Charles, closest; Lando, eyes wide; Esteban, even, staring in disbelief. All three are telling Pierre replications of the same sentiment, which is that they cannot believe he actually managed to do it.

Get you to fall in love with him, they mean. Fulfill the dare, they explain. Like they all agreed a few months ago. Back in Miami, the three of them dared Pierre to get you to fall for him, and like the overconfident, thrill seeking diehard flirt that he is, Pierre agreed.

Worse:  he did it successfully. You know, you had been wondering if this was too good to be true. Looks like it was. All that time you were letting Pierre into your heart, and he was manipulating you into falling in love. How pathetic. How incredibly soul-destroying.

The four drivers look up when you shut the door to the meeting room behind you. Pierre is the first one to notice it’s you, and you don’t ever think you’ll forget the look on his face when he realizes that you know the truth. His entire expression contorts with horror and his hands rise by his sides, trying to force your heart to stay unbroken. Pity it’s too late for that.

“Y/N–” he begins, a little too loud, a little too desperate, “wait– it’s not what it sounds like–”

“Actually,” you say coolly, “I believe that it is. You three dared Pierre to get me to fall in love with him? That’s exactly what it is, right?”

It’s not a question. Charles, Lando, and Esteban have realized you’re here, too, and they wear similar shades of Pierre’s alarm. Charles opens his mouth to say something, perhaps to explain himself, but you cut him off.

“Don’t even try. I know what you did, I don’t want to hear your terrible reasoning for why you thought this was okay. I’m going to go back to my motorhome and we are never going to speak of this again. Don’t talk to me in the paddock. Don’t talk to me at all unless we’re in a media event and you have to. I never want to speak to any of you.”

Lando interrupts, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Y/N, don’t you think that’s a little extreme? It was just a prank, that’s all. Just a laugh.”

Pierre looks like he’s fighting back deep irritation at that. You just arch one brow. “Just a prank to humiliate me? You disgust me. All of you.”

You let that silence their arguments and leave the room. You think Pierre might have tried to follow you out, but Charles blocks him. You hear the Monegasque’s voice spilling out into the hall as you leave, telling Pierre not to try it. She obviously doesn’t want to see any of us anymore, mate. Best to leave it be.

You wish it was that easy for you. It takes everything in you to make it to your private room in your team’s motorhome and lock the door behind you before the tears finally come flooding out. You’d like nothing more than to fly home and spend the next several days and nights comatose in your bed, but, as if things weren’t bad as is, there’s still a race tomorrow, so you won’t be able to go anywhere for at least twenty-four hours.

The lights go out, the chequered flag waves some time later. You’re not entirely aware of what happened in that race, nor of how you were able to drag yourself out of your room and back to the starting grid, but you blink once and you’re on the podium, so evidently everything worked out. You watch the clips later, the commentators are all in shock. They haven’t seen you race so aggressively in years. It bordered on cruelty.

Pierre, by contrast, had his worst race in months. It seemed like he was hardly in charge at all, more like the car was controlling him. He wasn’t even in the points. No one can understand it. You refuse to think about it any longer.

Another race weekend comes and goes. The interviewers are confused– wasn’t it just last week that you seemed so much happier than you are now? You’re surly in press conferences, answering questions in a clipped and emotionless tone. They’d say you were totally checked out were it not for the fact that you’re still getting good results.

They don’t know everything, of course, but some of the more eagle-eyed reporters are starting to put the pieces together. What’s up with you and Pierre Gasly? Someone asks one day, Weren’t you two good friends recently?

We’re drivers, you reply, Aren’t we all used to pretending things are better than they are?

When you see Pierre after that press conference, he looks dizzy, totally unsteady on his own feet. You don’t meet his eyes. You’re not sure that it’s guilt, but it feels something like that anyway. Everything is wrong.

Pierre is asked about it later, of course, and he’s a little more candid than you were. He never names names, just says that things happen sometimes, things he wishes he could take back. Pierre has to take a moment to get himself together after that to answer the next question, a fantastic display of emotion. How charming of him to wear his heart on his sleeve when he’s just ripped yours out of your chest.

The pattern repeats the next few weeks. Pierre, Charles, Lando, and Esteban try to talk to you on multiple occasions, but you brush them off with nothing more than a well-placed glare and some good avoidance tactics. Even then, you should have known that your cold shoulder couldn’t last forever.

Of course it would be Charles who gets you at last– if there’s anyone on this entire damned grid who could get why you are the way you are, it would be him. Il Predestinato knows what it’s like to have the entire world expecting something of you, and he doesn’t lie easy because of it. Charles finds you late as the sun is setting and won’t let you avoid him forever, even though you try.

At last, you give up and stop making him chase you around the paddock. You’re sitting at a table outside your motorhome, shaded by a sunbleached umbrella and sipping at a bottle of ice water long since turned lukewarm.

“He regrets it, you know,” Charles says by way of introduction.

You refuse to raise your eyes from your intense study of the bottle’s printed plastic label. “He’s going to have to do a lot better than sending his best friend to talk for him, then.”

Charles scoffs. “Oh, come on. You know you haven’t let him get close enough for that.”

Your water bottle receives a very irate glare. “Wonder why that would be.”

Charles sighs. “We were wrong, we all know that. It was a stupid thing to suggest and even more stupid to keep it up that long.”

You look at him at last, anger gone and replaced by mere disappointment. From the way Charles shifts in his seat opposite you, you think that might be an even worse threat for him to face. “Then why did you keep it going? If you knew it was so wrong? Pierre was committed to your prank for weeks. Why didn’t any of you call it quits?”

“He didn’t want to,” Charles admits, “not because of the dare, because he liked being around you. Did you know he was mad at us the day you caught us? He didn’t want us anywhere near that room. Told me privately it’s because he wanted the first kiss for himself, not for anything related to the dare.”

That makes you go silent. The fan whirs overhead, pushing your thoughts around in slow circles somewhere above you. “That makes no sense.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Charles grumbles, “Happened, though. Regardless of what he thought at the start, Pierre doesn’t want to hurt you. Not anymore.”

You turn towards him. “Is that supposed to make how he felt at the start okay somehow?”

Charles shakes his head. “No, but it makes the ending better, I think.”

He’s right. You lean back against your seat, contemplative. Charles takes this as his cue to leave. He pauses once before he’s out of range, then calls something else back to you. “He’ll kill me if he finds out I told you that, by the way.”

You can’t fight a laugh. “I won’t tell a soul you’re on my side.”

He smiles at that. You’ve missed him, you realize, him and the rest. You thought distance would save you from feeling quite so badly about all of this, but it just cut you off from your best support. Charles disappears into the crowd, a bright flare of red in a multitude of shifting shades, and for the first time since that treacherous discovery, you start to wonder what it would feel like to forgive.

Pierre is in an awful state. So Esteban has told him about a thousand and one times, at least, each utterance delivered with the same derisive snort. Pierre knows he’s supposed to bounce back from this, pretend it was all just a prank, but he’s known better for months now. It might have been a prank the first day, even the first week, but not after that.

Here is the problem:  Pierre, in all his cocky eagerness to show his friends up, failed to consider that Y/N might be able to charm him as well. He might have gone a little overboard in his attempts to make her fall in love with him, perhaps even to the point where he fell in love instead. He isn’t sure when he first realized he had feelings for her, but Pierre is more than certain it was before Y/N discovered she felt the same way.

What a ruin to his reputation. Pierre hadn’t minded, though, not when they were still on speaking terms. He liked the way they could talk for hours, how Y/N’s guard slipped when she started to trust him. She had a way of smiling when she was sure no one was about to stab her in the back. Pierre misses that. He’s sure he’ll never see it again.

Unable to stand Esteban’s dismissive attitude anymore, Pierre picks himself up from where he’d been wallowing in misery on the floor of the Alpine motorhome. He doesn’t know where he’s going yet, only that it needs to be somewhere without a single soul in sight. Still, when he passes aimlessly through the halls and almost runs into another driver, he supposes he should take it as a testament to his distracted mind that he doesn’t realize it’s Y/N until they’re already standing still and staring at each other.

Too late, Pierre remembers she hates him. His eyes drop to the floor and he mumbles an apology, ready to keep moving. She told him not to speak to her anymore; Pierre can hardly fault her for that, and he won’t use his presence as a weapon if that’s the one that will cut her the deepest.

He is surprised, then, when Y/N reaches out to stop him before he can get too much farther. Pierre looks at her hand locked around his, then back up at her.

“Wait,” she says, “I want to talk to you.”

“I thought that wasn’t happening anymore,” Pierre says. It occurs to him that it probably sounds cold, but she speaks before he can try to explain what he meant.

“Things have changed,” she says.

That’s enough to convince him to stay, if not for the feeling of her fingers still on his than anything else. He doesn’t miss the way her gaze keeps flitting from him to the occasional Alpine aide walking down the halls, and to save her, Pierre jerks his head towards a door down the hall.

“There’s an empty room to the left, we can talk there.”

A brief flash of relief crosses her face, and Y/N lets Pierre lead her over to the room. He leaves the door open to give her an easy escape, but she closes it after her anyway. No onlookers. Maybe that’s for the best.

Y/N sits down in one of the chairs, legs crossed, arms folded. She may be here with him after so long, but that doesn’t stop her from throwing up all her walls, even the physical ones. It hurts to remember how easy it had been to be with her that last day. Pierre plays those moments on repeat in his head– the balcony, the breeze, the words, the kiss. He can never stop the later scene from following, how her demeanor had changed when she realized the truth. He didn’t think he could hurt one person that badly. He was wrong.

She’s still silent, so Pierre assumes it’s on him to start talking. “I’m sorry,” he begins, “I know that’s not enough, but it’s true. I was stupid. I should have told you before–”

Regret clogs up his throat and he can’t choke out a single syllable more. Y/N looks suspicious. “Before the kiss?”

“Before anything,” Pierre clarifies, “when we were talking at the beginning. I never should have let it get so far. Doesn’t mean I minded when it did,” he remarks half to himself, “but I should have done it on my own terms.”

When he dares look up at Y/N again, he swears she seems slightly more open, but that could just be his wishful thinking. “Do you mean what you said in the interview?” She asks suddenly, “Do you wish you could take it back?”

“Yes,” Pierre says in a rush, “I want a do over. I want to do it right. I would have done all of it without ever talking to Lando or Esteban or Charles first. I would have done it for me.” His voice is quiet. “I would have loved you without making it a lie.”

Y/N’s eyes are wide, but she isn’t afraid or angry. “Second chances come around more often than you’d think,” she whispers.

“Even for me?” Pierre asks.

She nods once. “Even for you.”

They’re both on the podium that day. His race engineers can’t explain why Pierre’s luck has suddenly had this tremendous turnaround. He can. She can, too. Sometimes your heart likes getting in the way if it knows you’re doing something wrong. It’s a good thing, then, that he’s finally doing something right.

She’s waiting for him once the interviews are over. They’re both exhausted, half drunk on the champagne in the air and wholly pleased with themselves. The sun goes down, and Pierre is happy. It is just as easy as that.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

[sunflowerkiwis]

Sparks Fly

daniel ricciardo x reader, platonic!lando norris x reader

not much of a plot

feedback is appreciated + requests are open

enjoy xx

yourinstagram

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, and 2,764,856 others

yourinstagram i see sparks fly whenever you smile💜

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user01 the way he looks at her🥲

taylorswift real

landonorris real

pierregasly real

georgerussell63 real

yourinstagram ariana what are you doing here??

user03 i think yn’s was the realest😭💀

user05 they called all of us single in swiftie and a hundred other languages

user07 find you someone who looks at you the way daniel looks at yn

liked by yourinstagram

danielricciardo who’s that handsome lad?

yourinstagram just some random bloke i found on the street

danielricciardo is he single?

yourinstagram im afraid not

danielricciardo his girlfriend doesn’t have to know 👀

yourinstagram i can’t stand you sometimes

danielricciardo you love me

yourinstagram i know

landonorris 🤢

danielricciardo 🙄🙄

liked by yourinstagram

danielricciardo

liked by georgerussell63, redbullracing, and 2,645,893 others

danielricciardo i’m captivated by you like a fireworks show

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user23 me too, daniel. me too.

charles_leclerc please tell yn to stop climbing on things she should not be climbing

danielricciardo i try my best

oscarpiastri pretty sure she thinks she’s a cat

yourinstagram i’ll never stop🥰

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landonorris side eye

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liked by yourinstagram

yourinstagram love u💜

liked by danielricciardo

danielricciardo love you more❤️

liked by yourinstagram

user11 why can’t i get a bf like this😀

yourinstagram don’t worry, you’ll get there bby🫶

user11 excuse me while i go pass out

user29 guess who’s sleeping on the highway🤪🤗

user15 are we not gonna talk about yn attending almost every race and always being there to support daniel🥹🥲😭

liked by yourinstagram, danielricciardo, and georgerussell63

~

yourinstagram added a photo to their story!

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yourinstagram DANIEL

danielricciardo WHAT

yourinstagram THERE ARE CHILDREN ON THIS APP

danielricciardo AND HOW DO YOU THINK THEY WERE MADE???

yourinstagram D A N I E L

~

landonorris

liked by mclaren, yourinstagram, and 1,763,481 others

landonorris she made me post this saying that i love her and i’m happy for her relationship and she’s my best friend

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yourinstagram i did no such things

yourinstagram all i see is lies

mclaren we’re telling oscar

danielricciardo careful, i heard she has a really good looking, tattooed boyfriend

yourinstagram maybe i do ;)

landonorris careful, i heard the guy who posted this has never wanted to block anyone more than you two

yourinstagram feel free to leave

landonorris it’s my post??

yourinstagram my face got you likes

charles_leclerc we can’t see your face…

yourinstagram my boobs got you like’s

landonorris oml🤦‍♂️

user09 MOTHER????

yourinstagram YES MY DEAR?????

user21 yn leave ur bf, i can drive in vroom vroom circles too😩

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yourinstagram watch out dani👀

~

yourinstagram

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yourinstagram lover <3

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danielricciardo hot

user37 she has him wrapped around her finger

danielricciardo i was talking about me, but she’s pretty too ig

yourinstagram say hi to the couch for me today

scuderiaferrari our favorite summer couple🔥😍

charles_leclerc wow.

carlossainz wow.

sebastianvettel wow.

yourinstagram oh to be a thigh tattoo…

user13 i think yn commenting on her own post about her boyfriend to praise him is the most yn thing she has done

user07 is she wrong tho-

landonorris yes.

maxverstappen1 i finally understand what lando’s always going on about

yourusername thanks for taking our pictures 😘

maxverstappen1 let each other breathe for just a second

user31 max💀

danielricciardo i’d marry you with paper rings

yourinstagram YES

yourinstagram PLEASE

user17 OMG ITS FINALLY HALLENING

yourinstagram JUST GIVE ME A DATE AND TIME

taylorswift what about me

yourusername actually… bye @danielricciardo, my wife’s calling😘

user61 stop, whAT IS HAPPENING

yourusername @user61 im marrying the love of my life @/taylorswift

user53 she’s so real

danielricciardo

danielricciardo mine <3

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[unnerving-presence]

So uh, I heard u got relationship headcanons for the knight *slides my love and appreciation towards u* pretty please uwu

i love tarhos i think he should be kissed on his silly little head

not the best and i love this guy but my writing brain so bad lately i’m sorry :[

not proofread

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

If you thought he was loyal toward his followers, you won’t believe how far he’d go for you. He would endlessly maim, torture and mutilate anyone who would dare touch a hair on your head. If you are loyal to him, he will repay that loyalty by tenfold.

Doesn’t mind if you like admiring him or his armor. He always liked standing out and would not complain if you complimented him or his armor. He sort of prefers the blood but won’t say anything if you decide to clean it off his armor. He appreciates the gesture, as it makes both him and his armor look that much more stunning.

Finds it slightly amusing if you worry over his wounds, bruises, and rashes across his body. He’s grown a tolerance to pain and while he does feel it, he tends to block that out for the most part. He understands why you would want to help him like you would want to help your fellow survivors but he often declines the offer and insists he is fine.

He is very open about the conversation of trials and how you should be treated. He lets you know that while he won’t treat you differently it will never mean that he or his guards hate you. He’s simply doing his job. For him, he knows you will come back and doesn’t have much of a problem sacrificing you. Though sometimes your screaming irks him a bit. He gets used to everybody else’s cries of pain, but never yours.

He always liked standing out, and he damn well will make sure he does to you. Oh, did you say something about his armor earlier? Well he just polished it, so compliment him again! You impressed by his size? You should be. He’s a damn giant compared to most killers. He’s not really subtle about wanting those aspects about him to be recognized.

Surprisingly a very passionate kisser. He’s likely never kissed anyone romantically in his life, so having the opportunity to learn and do so is a big thing for him. He has someone he cares for now. He can finally do all the things he’s secretly been wanting deep down and he won’t let it build up any longer. He’s no lovebird by any means but he’ll close to never pass up the chance to show you how much he loves you.

Quite passionate in everything he does, actually. He’ll possessively hold you close to him like a dragon protecting its treasures if you ever want to sleep on him. Again with the kissing, you can tell how badly he’s needed the feeling of someone’s lips on his. Even speaking to you about your value to him is full of every word in the book to describe you in a positive light. He uses all the horrible things he’s most known for and completely turns it around for you. He’s not the most vulnerable nor will he always be impressionable with his seemingly positive actions, but even the little ones have thought put into it, like he really wants to try for you. He’s never going to change his ways nor does he want to. But you won’t ever be treated like the other common scum in the realm. You aren’t like them, despite being in the same position as them. To him, you’re higher than that and you deserve to be treated as such.

[itsthestutterforme]

Glad You Called 2/2

Summary: Reacher kept something hidden from you for those two years. And it was right under your nose the entire time.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, here’s the part 2 you guys asked for :) @cookiemonsterboss

Any tips for writers block anyone??

Part One

**

Blowing a long, satisfied breath, you descend down the stairs pressing your locs dry with your towel. You were about to watch an episode of Supernatural when someone sitting on the couch caught your attention.

“What are you still doing up, Reacher?” You said with an annoyed sigh.

“I was going to ask you the same question,” he said, looking up from the computer he borrowed from Neagley.

“I’m going to watch my show,” you sat down and the couch across from him and took the remote into your hands.

Signing onto Netflix, you scroll down and click on Supernatural, making sure to lower the volume.

You secured your locs tightly in your bonnet you had brought with you when you catch Reacher staring.

He pretends to scroll on the laptop as if you didn’t catch him staring at you seconds before.

It took you all of five minutes of him looking at you through your peripheral for you to speak up.

“Oh my God, just say what you want to say, Reacher.” You finally say, breaking the silence.

“I.. don’t have anything to say,”

“Your eyes are telling me something different.”

“I missed looking at you,” he confessed after a moment of silence.

“Should have thought about that before you ghosted me,” you state, not even bothering to look away from the TV screen.

“It was my choice and I have to live with the consequences. But I never meant to hurt you, Y/N.”

“Bullshit,”

“It’s not bullshit. I thought I was doing you a favor by leaving-“

“No, you took the easy way out. I’ve been in enough of these situations to know. But what really burns me to the core?” You finally look away from the TV to glare at Reacher.

“Is that I told you everything about my fear of people leaving. I told you how deep rooted the pain was, and you left anyway.”

“There’s nothing I can do to fix what I broke. I know that.”

“I’m done convincing people that I’m loveable. I’m at point in my life where I prefer to be alone than to have bad company.”

“I know,”

“Then why did you come back?”

“You know why,” he says.

“I know you won’t say it,” you say, standing from your place on the couch.

You crossed over to where Reacher was, barely towering over him even when he’s sitting down.

“I hate you,” you seethe. Hurt flashed across his face and for a moment, you felt guilt nipping at you.

“I could never hate you, Y/N.” He confesses softly, his hazel green eyes searching your Y/E/C ones.

Your face grew hot the longer he stared at you and you finally realize your proximity.

Damn it, why was your heart racing? Why was your body betraying you like this?

“When this is over, I never want to see you again.”

“I respect it,”

You didn’t know how to feel about this. A part of you wanted him to fight back like he did before.

Because at least you wouldn’t feel bad for treating him this way.

Especially since he more than deserved it. The air grew thick with tension and you held his gaze when he slowly stands from the couch, standing in front of you at full height.

You catch him bringing a hand up to caress the side of your face with his thumb.

“You don’t get to come over here talking all soft and think you’re somehow forgiven,” you whisper, your heart skipping a beat when he leans in closer.

“Would you forgive me if I gave you an apology?” He leans in an inch away from your face.

“No,” you body tenses under his touch and your eyes fluttered closed.

“If you tell me to stop, I will.” His breath fans against your lips. You could feel a heart racing pattering in your chest.

Everything stood still for a moment. The show playing in background was long forgotten.

Just as your lips were about to connect, you said, “I can’t do this.”

He lets you pull away from him, watching as your legs rushed you up the stairs and into your room.

The door creaks closed and you linked your hands above your head, consequently pacing in your bedroom.

What the hell was he thinking? What the hell were you thinking?

Deciding to give Reacher a piece of your mind, you pulled the door open to find him standing before you, raising a hand to knock on your door.

Turning your walk back inside your room, Reacher took that as an invitation to come in. He closes the door behind him and starts, “I want to confess something.”

Your ears perk at his words, that was a phrase you’ve never heard him say before.

“Okay,” “I’m tired. Tired of being the leader. Tired of needing to fix things all the time. Tired of being strong for everyone else. I haven’t met anyone who really understood that besides you.”

He comes around the bed to where you were, dragging a chair over and spun it around to sit down.

“Aren’t you tired, Y/N?”

“You want to know what I’m tired of?” “I’m tired of the influence you still have on me after all these years. I hate it. But at least it taught me one thing. Never let a man get too close.” You added before he had a chance to answer.

“You think you don’t have an influence over me?” He challenges. “Obviously not, Jack. You left me. That’s as crystal clear of an answer you can get.” You state, noticing the visible wince when you call him by his given name.

He presses his lips together as he contemplates something. You lift a brow, daring him to challenge what you had just said.

He stands up from the chair and took his pocket knife from his boot. Flicking the knife open, he knelt down to and popped out a piece from the wooden leg of your vanity.

He slid his hand into the opening, your heart sank when he took out a navy blue, velvet box.He drops the box into your hand and you brushed off the dust that had collected on the top.

You spared him a glance and he merely crossed his arms, waiting for you to open it. Opening the box, a periodt pear cut diamond ring winked at you under the dim lighting.

“Reacher, don’t tell me this is-“ “I planned an entire getaway trip to New York City where I would have asked you to marry me with that ring.” He interrupts and suddenly your mouth felt dry.

This was your dream ring. This was your dream man. So where did it all go wrong?

“What made you change your mind?” You asked after a brief silence.

“I watched my father deteriorate when my Mom died. I knew that.. one day that would be a possibility. Reacher men have terrible luck,”

“So.. let me get this straight. You left me because you’re worried I might die?” “Yes. And I know how it sounds, but-“

“That’s your first mistake right there, Reacher. You were too caught up in the what ifs that you missed what was right in front of you the whole time: a home- our home.”

“I know,” his your gaze fell back down to the ring in your hands. “You should try it on,” he suggests and you find yourself taking the ring out of the box, hesitantly sliding the band on your ring finger. It even fits perfectly.

“How did you know I wouldn’t throw the vanity away?”

Without a second thought, he closed the gap between you and captured your lips in a warm kiss. His massive hands covered your face as he continued to kiss you.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you get lost in the way his lips felt against yours. He pulls away just enough for the two of you to get air, resting your forehead against his.

“Because I know you,” he says, caressing the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

Side Effects III | Han + Chan

You're onto whatever it is that Jisung and Chan are hiding. You just have to prove it. With a hidden camera set up in your room you're ready to catch the two science nerds in the act. However it just doesn't work out that way.

•Pairing: nerdy Jisung + Chan x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, unprotected sex, fingering, kitchen sex, feelings of guilt, jealousy and betrayal, animal testing no rats were harmed in this work of fiction

an: sorry this one took so long. writers block was kicking my ass. slightly edited so if something doesn't make sense or needs to be fixed let me know ♡

The link to the song Amortentia that's referenced is included. For a more understanding of Jisung's feelings towards y/n give it a listen. Completely optional of course but it's truly a good song. Amortentia By, Let's Lumos ft. Oliver Boyd & The Remembralls

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

Part I • Part II

You had everything planned out. You knew exactly what you were going to do. Or so you liked to tell yourself. In reality, you were clueless and nervous as hell. What should I do? Seduce the two men and see who spills the beans first? Nah, that'd never work. Confront them with my suspicions about both of them being invisible? Without concrete evidence, they would only deny it.

“Ugh, damn it. Guess I'll just wing it,” you mutter to yourself behind the register, just as a customer walks up wanting some eccentric type of coffee.

You’ve felt Chan more than Jisung lately, so you figure it would be easier to get to him. You know he seems to like places where it's easy to get caught, like the balcony, the kitchen, or the couch. If Jisung were to ever walk out of his bedroom, he’d see you two immediately. Your eyes light up as you pass the recycled paper cup full of fresh coffee. Each time you were fucked by someone you couldn't see, it was an instinct to be as quiet as possible to not get caught… but what if you weren’t? Your mind starts running through scenarios of Jisung finding you as you come undone around some unseen man.

You argued with yourself your whole shift at the small coffee shop you work at. What if Jisung catches his best friend invisible and balls deep inside his roommate, causing a fight? Why would it, when Jisung doesn't see me that way? What if Jisung kicks you out? I'd be homeless and miserable. The cons were looking pretty convincing. You were all out of ideas, having talked yourself out of every one. It was starting to look like you'd never know what they were up to in Jisung's room, if they were actually invisible or if you were insane.

When you step into the apartment and slip off your shoes, you’re surprised to see Jisung in the kitchen. What surprises you the most is that he says something to you as you walk past the kitchen to your room. You freeze and look at him, almost wondering if you imagined him saying, “Hello” to you. Looking around, you see it's just the two of you.

“H-hey, Ji,” you respond, feeling timid and a little scared that he’ll just start ignoring you again.

He gives you a shy smile and retreats to his bedroom. Weird. He never fails to be weird, and you never expect it either. It's not like how you expect to have a visitor in your room waiting for you. You could smell the sweetness in the air the moment you stepped inside your room. To anyone else, they probably wouldn't be able to smell the difference between the vanilla of Chan and the caramel apple scent of your current favorite body lotion. Where he was in your room though, you had no idea.

Chan sat on the floor in the corner of your room by your bed, watching you. He had to find another spot to observe you from after you almost stepped on his balls two weeks ago. He discovered this corner was one you didn't go near, and it provided the best view to watch you undress. Much like right now. You meticulously removed each piece of clothing, and Chan was engrossed in the action as if it were his favorite show or movie. He didn't suspect that the way you moved had anything to do with the fact that you knew he was there. Slowly, you put on a show for Chan while still wondering how to catch them.

Does Ji know Chan is in my room? He must.

You were certain that Jisung's greeting to you was some sort of signal for Chan. It amused you, and you almost laughed out loud, but you remembered that you had eyes on you. That might not be enough to convince someone like Jisung or Chan, but it was enough for you. Nothing would get past you now that you knew you weren't crazy. Now, if only you could expose one or the other while they were invisible. Where are you? you wondered once you were completely nude. You stood there, chewing on your lip, pretending that you'd forgotten what you were supposed to be doing. A slow turn and, with a gasp, you moved to grab your towel.

Maybe if I entice him enough, he'll follow me into the shower. The steam might expose him...

It was a shot in the dark, but you didn't have a whole list of ideas. There was no guarantee that Chan would follow you into the shower, and no guarantee that the steam would make an outline like in the movies. Never once had Chan followed you into the shower. It always seemed like an easy way to get caught. Not in the way you were thinking, though. He knew you'd possibly get suspicious if he just so happened to have wet hair right after you felt something. Not to mention Jisung would be more suspicious than he is now.

Jisung had yet to question Chan about the strange, creepy smile you gave them both. He noticed how Chan's body language changed that night—how shifty and nervous Chan was, no matter how calm and collected he acted. Jisung had always been good at reading people. Well, except for you, but he attributed that to his feelings for you. Jisung just couldn't understand why Chan suddenly started acting weird. Surely if he were experiencing any side effects, he'd report them so they could work on them. Chan wasn't the type to keep things like that to himself. Not with something as important as this. This elixir, once perfected, would make them billionaires. That outcome was so close Jisung could hear the announcement of him getting a Nobel Peace Prize.

Chan continuously tries to fight the urges, running tests of his own that Jisung doesn't even know about. Every night, he tries a new combination of vitamins and over-the-counter pills. In his own time, he researches anything that would lower a person's libido and, in a healthy, safe way, tries each one himself. So far, nothing has worked. The only change is that he's getting a good daily dose of vitamins and a hell of a workout with you. It's even a mental workout just trying to resist you when you choose to walk around your bedroom completely naked, like you're inviting him to fuck you. You are, but Chan doesn't have a clue.

There's no way you would ever think that he was the one that was balls deep inside whatever hole of yours he decided he needed to fill that night. But smell is such a powerful thing. You could smell something you hadn't gotten a whiff of in twenty years, but one breeze past you will bring up a whole memory you could've sworn you forgot about. You put a lot of effort into that cologne for Chan. You paid close attention to how he smelled weeks before you settled on that specific one. The smell of smoky vanilla always reminds you of his hugs. The warmth and sweetness surround you. It brought you comfort. It still does; only now it also makes you wet. Like your body knows once you smell him, he'll be fucking you into another dimension.

So while Chan would love nothing more than to fuck you hard up against the slippery, wet tiles of your shower, he remains in the same spot, all while his precum leaks heavily from his hard length. He refuses to even touch himself. It would do him no good anyway; he'd still be hard as hell and insanely horny. He even tries to resist the temptation to feel you. You were still dripping wet from your shower when you walked back with the towel wrapped around you. You half-expected Chan to have left, but the soft shuffling sound that quietly creeps closer gets louder. The smell of vanilla fills the space around you, and you struggle to pretend you're unaware. Without thinking and without any warning, you scream loudly, hysterically calling for both Jisung and Chan.

Jisung bursts into your room without hesitation, making your heart swell. The way his cheeks turn red at the sight of you gives him a cute, innocent look, all wide-eyed, wearing his round glasses and lab coat. You have to bite your tongue to hide your smile. Instead, you pout and run to him, grabbing his arm.

"Ji, oh my god! I just saw this massive spider in the corner. I… I don't know where it went, though. Where's Chan? I know he usually takes them outside." You lay the damsel-in-distress act on thick.

You cling to his arm, your breast pressing firmly into his biceps. He shifts on his feet, looking around your room, likely for Chan instead of the imaginary spider. Jisung can feel his heart thundering in his chest, and his cock rapidly growing harder. It's been a while since he's taken the elixir, and although that wasn't easy, lusting over you and desiring you seems to only grow since he already felt you under him and around him.

“Oh, uh, I'll, um. I'll look,” he stammers, moving out of your arms, though he'd rather be fucking you up against the wall behind you both.

“Thanks, Jisung. Dunno what I'd do without you,” you tell him. Your voice is soft and delicate, which only makes Jisung struggle even more.

Chan uses this opportunity to slip out of the open door before the effects wear off, while Jisung hesitantly walks toward your bed, looking for the bug, scared and horny. A loud thud startles both you and Jisung, and you both turn toward the door, seeing nothing, though you hear the faint whisper of a few curse words in a very familiar accent.

“I'm not seeing it, Y/N. Maybe it crawled away,” Jisung says loudly as a distraction from the foot of your bed.

With an amused smile, you look back at him, and his throat feels suddenly tight. With you just in a towel, hair damp, and in the same spot where he was inside of you, he feels overwhelmed. So many emotions are running rampant inside of him. He just stares at you, lost in the memory of when he first felt your walls hugging his cock tight. With his faraway stare, you wonder if he's thinking about the last time he was in your room. Back when you had no clue and seriously thought you were insane. When you can prove your suspicions, then you'll deal with the fact that they both let you believe the place was haunted or that your brain was fried from working too much. You take a couple of steps over to Jisung and gently touch his arm. He hasn't jumped away from you like before, but he does look at you with such an intense expression that you almost step away from him.

“Ji? Are you good?” you ask, looking him directly in the eyes. He swallows hard, his breathing coming out in quiet huffs.

He prays your eyes don't stray and travel any further than his face. He'd be mortified if you noticed the very prominent bulge he's got right now hidden behind his dark basketball shorts. It's painful just how hard he is, and with each angry pulsation, he fears that he might cum right here in front of you.

“Yeah, I'm... I'm alright, just tired.” He clears his throat and starts to walk to the door.

You feel panic blossom in your chest. What if he goes back to being distant? The thought makes you reach out to him, grabbing the wrinkled white lab coat. Jisung looks over his shoulder, and his heart drops seeing the fear and sadness in your eyes. He knows he's been a huge dick to you, but he figured that would make being away from you easier. Yet he was wrong. He missed your company far more than he missed your tight, wet, perfect cunt. Before his mind can drift off again, you speak up.

“U-uh… I was wondering if you wanted to order from Collision? I know how you love the food there. My treat?” He nods, and his lips perk up into a small smile.

“Sounds good, sweetie. My treat, though, okay? I'll get our usual.”

And then he leaves your room, shutting the door gently behind him. Bewildered is far too weak of a word to describe how you're feeling while you just stand there in the middle of your room with a stupid shocked expression. Jisung has gone back to how he was with you overnight, and it makes you anxious for some reason. Like something big is going to happen really, really soon…

Chan is walking out of Jisung's bathroom when he steps back into his domain. He locks the door and just stares at his friend.

“Uh, sup? Why are you looking at me so weirdly?” Chan asks, chuckling nervously.

“You did it too, didn't you?” Jisung whispers, looking at Chan, who has panic flash across his face.

“No! What? Why would…” Chan trails off, quickly accepting defeat.

“Not while she was sleeping, no.” He finally admits and watches as his best friend walks over to the bed and flops down with an oof.

“Listen Ji, I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to do all the things that I knew were the right things to do.” Chan continues, unmoving from his spot in front of Jisung's bathroom door.

“No, I get it. The elixir. This side effect is strange. I don't even know how to describe it, let alone study it.” Jisung inhales deeply and sighs. “On top of that, we're so close to making it last longer than twenty minutes too. I can feel it.”

Chan moves, walking over to the air mattress and carefully sitting down, feeling guilty and also proud of their hard work. He opens his mouth to apologize at least six more times, but when Jisung speaks, he's unable to find his voice.

“Did she like it? You said she was never asleep. She must've wanted it, so she must've enjoyed it. Stupid question…”

His statement hangs in the air like cigarette smoke. Heavy, lingering, suffocating. Chan, with his guilt and desires eating at him, and Jisung's heart hurting due to the unspoken love that he has for you. He wants to be mad at Chan. Shit, he is mad at Chan, but he really understands. Though the little green demon called jealousy is constantly tapping on his ear, telling him that now he's got no chance with you. All the girls love Chan, despite him being just as nerdy as Jisung. With his chiseled abs and jawline, the perfect dimpled smile and accent, the girls at school always had eyes on him. So what's to say you won't fall for Chan now that he's fucked you who knows how many times. Jisung can't bring himself to even ask for a number.

“I try to fight it, Ji. I really try. In the beginning, it was easy, but something shifted… no, cracked in me. One night, she was talking in her sleep. But that talking soon turned to moaning, and at the time, I still felt normal. Until she got… close.” His voice gets quiet, and he trails off.

“Was that the, uh, first time you and her?” Jisung asks, and Chan shakes his head in reply.

“When she, uh, finished in her sleep, she moaned your name, Ji. I know you don't think you deserve her, but you're wrong.”

It's not much, but Chan's words soothe the green-eyed demon that was festering away at Jisung's heart.

Nodding and with a loud exhale, Jisung stands up. “Alright, let's get to work. I know for sure there's a way to tackle the effects as well as lengthen it. We just need to think further out of the box,” he announces, pulling out his phone. “But first, I need to order food.”

That night after dinner, things started to look up for you. Though you don't have any proof yet, Jisung seems to be coming around. You're not back to how things were, but at least he isn't running away from your presence. You sigh and roll onto your back, hitting the yellow "buy now" button on your phone. By the time you get home from work tomorrow, you'll have a wireless discreet camera. A victorious smile spreads across your face as you think, “Gotcha.”

You set your phone aside, the screen dimming as you rise from the bed. The soft rustle of the sheets and the creak of the mattress punctuate the quiet. You can feel him watching you, his gaze almost tangible against your skin. Your heart quickens, not with fear but with excitement, the anticipation of what’s to come making your pulse race.

Slowly, you begin to undress, your movements deliberate and unhurried. The fabric of your clothes slides against your skin, a soft whisper of cotton and lace. You hear a faint, almost inaudible intake of breath, and you smile, knowing the effect you’re having on him.

The room is cool, the air from the open window sending gentle chills across your exposed skin. You can almost feel his presence drawing closer, the warmth of his body cutting through the coolness. Your breath hitches as you feel the first tentative touch – a soft, barely-there caress along your arm, trailing down to your wrist. It’s as if the air itself has come alive, brushing against you with a lover’s touch.

You don’t flinch or pull away; instead, you lean into it, letting your eyes flutter closed as you savor the sensation. His touch grows bolder, more confident, sliding up your arm to your shoulder, tracing the curve of your collarbone. You shiver, a sigh escaping your lips. The feel of his hands – warm, soft – skimming across your body with a reverence that makes you ache.

Chan moves closer, the scent of vanilla intensifying, mingling with the smell of cake batter from your body wash. You can feel his breath now, warm against your neck, goosebumps up and down your arms and legs. His lips follow, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You tilt your head, giving him better access, your fingers threading through the air where you know his hair must be. The sensation is surreal; you've never let your hands roam too much before. You feel his hair through your fingers and his hands on your hips, pulling you closer, his body solid and real against yours despite the invisibility.

The room is filled with the sounds of your shared breaths, the quiet breeze, the faint rustle of sheets as he guides you back to the bed. You lie down, heart pounding in your chest.

His hands are on you again, sliding up your thighs, parting your legs with a gentle insistence. You gasp as his fingers find your core, slick and ready, the sensation electric. He teases you, his touch light and maddening, drawing soft whimpers from your lips.

"Please," you breathe, your voice a desperate plea. There’s a moment of stillness and then he’s on you, in you, filling you with a slow, deliberate thrust that makes you cry out.

The world narrows to the two of you, the sensation of him moving inside you, the slippery sounds of your bodies coming together, the taste of his kiss on your lips. Every touch, every caress, every thrust sends sparks of electricity through your veins.

You cling to him, your fingers digging into the air where his shoulders must be, your body arching into his. His pace quickens, the rhythm of his movements matching the frantic beating of your heart. You can feel the tension coiling inside you, tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.

With a final, desperate thrust, you come undone, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm. He follows you over the edge, his own release a silent shudder that you feel rather than hear. For a moment, you lie there, your bodies entwined, the air around you heavy with the scent of vanilla and sex.

As you catch your breath, you feel him begin to pull away, the warmth of his body retreating. You reach out, your fingers brushing against nothing but air, a wistful smile on your lips. The room settles back into its quiet stillness. You reach for your phone, the glow of the shipping tracker on the screen lighting up your face once more. For now, you’ll play their game, savoring every touch, every stolen moment. But soon, you’ll have the evidence you need to confront them, to bring their little experiment out into the open.

"Ready to come clean, boys?" you think to yourself, feeling Chan's eyes on you, waiting for the moment he can slip away. He finds that moment when you go to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Just in time too, as the effects wear off right as he steps out, coming face to face with Jisung.

“"I'm sorry," Chan whispers, letting his head fall.

There's no need to ask how long he's been standing there or if he heard your moaning. The flexing of his jaw muscle and the steady breathing to keep himself from doing anything he'd regret speak volumes. Chan suggests they should scrap everything and start over. He can't stand the hurt look on Jisung's face; he's like a little brother to him. Never in a million years would he ever hurt him.

“No. We're not far from the end; we can't give up now,” Jisung says quietly, moving away from your door and towards his own as Chan follows. “I know the feeling of not being in control, and with you taking a higher dose than I was… well, I get it. Let's just finish this up as quickly as possible.” Chan mutters a defeated-sounding agreement and trails after him like a sad puppy.

When you get home from work, you find the package containing your new camera. You retreat into your room quickly to set it up. You smile to yourself as you angle it so that it's pointing towards your bed and the bedroom door. At one point, you even thought to rig up some contraption above your door that would dump flour on them when they walked in, but you thought better of it. With your luck, you'd be the one covered in white instead of Chan or Jisung. Though… you still just might be. When you walk out of your room, you see Jisung and Chan talking in front of the door with Channie's bags in his hand.

“You leaving us, Channie?” you ask, worried that you missed the opportunity to catch him on camera and that you just set everything up for nothing.

“Don't worry, I'll be back to bug you two soon. My cousin's having a grand opening for his restaurant in Australia, so I'll be gone for the weekend.” He explains, his eyes darting to his friend nervously. “Stay out of trouble,” he tells Jisung and looks back at you. “Both of you.”

You give him a lazy salute and smile. “Yes, sir,” you respond and walk into the kitchen.

Just you and Jisung for the weekend… This could go either really well or really badly.

The first night was a bit awkward. Jisung is distant again, but not as much as before. He seems to try and talk to you more, but you can see he isn't always fully present in the conversation.

It's not that he isn't paying attention or finds what you are talking about boring. It's the flashbacks that he struggles with around you. The temptation of taking the liquid just to feel you again. He misses how you felt, the sounds he would make you make. Every time he is with you, talking about whatever, it’s almost like he can practically feel you bear hug his cock with your greedy cunt.

The second night isn't any easier, and most of the time, Jisung is in his room, tweaking and testing the elixir on more borrowed rats. Each time he hears you shuffling around the apartment, he wants to chug the whole test tube of the faint aqua liquid.

Those two days, however, you feel defeated. You keep thinking that you wasted money and time on the camera that sits hidden in your room out of sight. In a moment of frustration, you disconnect the device with an annoyed growl.

“Fuck this,” you sigh and sit on the edge of your bed. “Back to the drawing board, I guess. Maybe… maybe I could take a peek inside his room?”

The brainstorming with yourself only keeps coming to a brick wall. The camera was the answer, or so you thought. Now, without anything happening, you figure you missed your window to catch them in the act.

It's Saturday evening, and you've seen Jisung only a few times. You start to worry that he's gone back to his weird avoidance towards you again.

“Hmph. It's not like I have cooties or something,” you mumble, rolling your eyes as you walk into the kitchen, just barely catching a glimpse of your roommate before he hurries into his room.

It's true that he's avoiding you, but at that particular moment, he just didn't want you to see that he had snuck out of the kitchen with your espresso extract. You'd kill him if you knew he was going to use all of it in the name of science. No matter how many times he told himself that it's for a “good cause,” he knows not to come between you and your coffee. Lucky for him, you already had your cup for the day and wouldn't notice that it's missing until tomorrow. Plenty of time for him to replace it.

The idea of adding a strong espresso to the elixir had immediately popped into his head at random. He could feel the light bulb over his head glowing brightly. It was such a simple idea, but he was more than positive that this was what they needed to lengthen the invisibility timeframe.

The tiny white rat squeaked from inside the metal cage that sat on his cluttered desk when he sat down. Its nose twitched curiously, sniffing the air as the strong smell of coffee filled the room. Jisung's glasses slowly slid down his nose, but he was too focused on measuring and mixing to be bothered by it or even adjust them.

“This is it,” he whispered under his breath, eyes sparkling with excitement.

With a glass dropper in his hand, he watched as the now grayish-teal elixir filled the tube. A couple of drops fed to the rat, he started the timer on his phone. Jisung could hear you outside his room singing. It was muffled, but just the sound of you working with the experiment made him hard.

“Maybe if I... No! I promised Chan.” Jisung took a deep breath and kept his eyes on the cage that seemed to be empty.

The occasional squeak and the cage bedding being kicked up was evidence that the rat was indeed still there and still doing just fine. More squeaks from the cage woke Jisung, who had dozed off, and he checked his phone. Thirty-five minutes and the rat was still invisible. He jumped up out of his chair, startling the rodent, who jumped and squeaked some more.

“I did it,” he said out loud. “I fucking did it.”

Only problem now, how will it react with something bigger? Sure, he promised Chan he would stay out of trouble, but this is important. He can't possibly wait until tomorrow when Chan gets home and then wait for him to make it to the apartment. He'd just have to fight the urges. Maybe the espresso canceled out the weird side effects anyway. He had to know how this new version of the elixir would do on a human.

He watched the dark liquid swirl in the flask, heart racing with anticipation. Taking a deep breath, he downed the elixir, the bitter taste masked slightly by the coffee. The invisibility kicked in almost immediately, but what he didn't anticipate was the overpowering surge of arousal that came with it. Every nerve in his body was tingling, his cock painfully hard. He was amazed and a little terrified by the intensity.

He paced in his room with a stopwatch in hand as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He was invisible, but the arousal was overwhelming. It had never been this intense before. He checked the mirror obsessively, waiting for any sign of the elixir wearing off, but it didn't happen. Twenty minutes passed, and he was still invisible, still hard, and it was only getting worse. He should be happy that his brilliant idea worked, only if he wasn't going mad.

Then, he heard it. Your voice, soft and innocent, singing in the kitchen. You were singing that old song from Let's Lumos, the one you were obsessed with, "Amortentia." The lyrics hit him hard, mirroring his own hidden feelings for you.

Before he could think, he was moving. The kitchen came into view, and there you were. You were lost in the song, unaware of his presence. His breath caught as he watched you from the kitchen doorway, invisible but so very present. The desire gnawed at him, rational thought slipping away. He moved silently, driven by an overwhelming need to be close to you. Suddenly, without realizing it, he was standing right behind you, the proximity making his breath hitch.

He snatched the headphones off your head, tossing them over the kitchen counter. You yelped, spinning around to face nothing.

“Ji?” you whispered, your eyes flicking around the room.

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound, before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was intense, searing, consuming you whole. His hands gripped your ass, pulling you close, and you moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled and desperate. When he finally pulled back, you gasped, inhaling deeply like you’d been deprived of oxygen.

“I’ve missed these lips,” he murmured against your skin. One hand slipped inside the front of your shorts, cupping your sex. “I’ve missed these lips even more.”

You gasped, feeling his middle finger slip inside you, your body arching into his touch. His name passed your lips in a hushed whisper, making him groan.

“Fuck, you’re smart. Makes you even sexier. Can I have you, Y/N? Hm? Not Chan, just me.” He slipped another finger inside you, and you cried out, clinging to him.

“Yes!” you gasped loudly. “I’m yours.”

His fingers were gone, and your pajama pants were pulled down. You barely had time to think before he was lifting you onto the counter, his mouth on your neck, your collarbone, your breasts. Every touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine.

His name fell from your lips over and over, each time like a prayer, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roamed your body.

“Needed you so bad, Y/N. Needed you for so long,” he whispered against your skin. “God, you have no idea.”

You gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing him as much as he needed you. “Show me,” you breathed. “Show me how much.”

You felt his hands on you again, rougher now, more insistent. His cock pressed against you, hot and demanding, and you shivered with anticipation.

“Jisung…” you whispered, your hands clutching at his shoulders, needing him closer, deeper.

He kissed you again, harder this time, his tongue tangling with yours. He entered you in one swift motion, and you cried out, the sensation overwhelming. He was everywhere, all at once, filling you completely. His thrusts were urgent, desperate, each one making you feel like putty in his arms.

“God, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice strained. “You feel so good.”

The kitchen faded away, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. You didn’t even notice the moment you could see him. Every touch, every kiss, every thrust was like a fire, burning away everything but the raw, intense connection between you.

You lost track of time, the only thing that mattered was the way he felt inside you, the way he made you feel. His whispered words of desire, his hands on your body, his lips on your skin. It was all-consuming, a perfect storm of sensation and emotion that left you breathless.

You could barely think, barely breathe, the pleasure building and building until it crashed over you in waves. You came apart in his arms, crying out his name, and he followed soon after, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

You were both panting, clinging to each other as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin.

He helped you off the counter, pulling you into his arms. Together, as he carried you, you made your way to the couch and wrapped yourselves in a blanket. The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of his arms around you and his heartbeat against your ear.

Hours later, the sound of the door opening jerked you awake. You blinked groggily, realizing that Chan was standing in the doorway, his eyes wide in shock at the sight of you and Jisung, naked and in each other’s arms.

“Guys…?” he said, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.

The blanket slipped slightly, revealing the state of your undress, and you hurried to cover up, as if he hadn't seen you naked for the past month.

“Uh… I can explain…” Jisung started, but Chan just raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Chan said, shaking his head. “Guess we need to talk about this, aye?”

You stepped into Jisung's room, your eyes scanning the cluttered space. "Okay, I need to know what you're working on," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Chan looked at Jisung, eyebrows raised in question. Jisung sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She found out on her own..."

"Please," you interrupted, your voice breaking. "I need to understand."

Jisung exchanged a look with Chan, who nodded slightly. "Okay," Jisung said, motioning for you to sit. "But you have to promise to keep an open mind."

You nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension. Jisung began to explain, his words technical and complicated. But the gist was clear: they'd created an elixir that grants invisibility. As he spoke, the pieces started to fall into place—the strange occurrences, the feeling of being watched, the vivid dreams.

"So, you're saying... you’ve been invisible this entire time?" you ask, disbelief coloring your tone.

Jisung nods, looking down at his hands. "Yes. We've been testing it, trying to perfect it."

"So the... dreams?" you whisper, not sure you want to hear the answer.

He hesitates, then looks up, meeting your eyes. "That was me."

Your breath catches in your throat. The room spins, and you feel a surge of anger and betrayal. "You... you lied to me, Ji. I was terrified for weeks, thinking I was haunted."

Jisung’s face crumples, and he looks away, shame evident in his posture. "I'm sorry. I never meant for any of that to happen. It started out as a joke. But the side effects… it got carried away.”

Chan stands, his face a mix of shame and disappointment. "I'm sorry too, y/n.” You turn to him, having been waiting for him to say something. “It wasn't just Jisung. I don't know what came over us, but I do know it wasn't something we could control."

Jisung buries his face in his hands. "We fucked up. I fucked up."

You stand, trembling with rage and hurt. "Et tu, Channie?" you say, your voice barely more than a whisper as you look at the curly-haired man who avoids your eye. "How could you guys lie?"

Jisung looks up, tears in his eyes. "I’m so sorry, y/n. I’ll do anything to make it right."

You shake your head, backing towards the door. "I need a moment," you say, your voice hollow. "I can't think."

You walk out of the room and leave the apartment, the weight of Chan and Jisung's betrayal crashing down on you. Outside, the night air is cool and soothing, the feeling of autumn approaching, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you. You walk aimlessly, trying to clear your head, but the pain and confusion follow you.

Back at the apartment, Jisung sits in his room, staring at the door you just left through. Chan stands beside him, silent and disapproving. "We need to fix this," Chan says finally. "We have to make this right, man."

Jisung nods, but deep down, he knows it won’t be that simple. They crossed a line that can never be uncrossed, and the consequences of their actions are only just beginning to unfold.

When you step back into the apartment, you see the backs of Jisung and Chan out on the balcony. The glass door muffles the sounds of their conversation and your footsteps as you walk towards them. Behind the glass, you see tall flames in front of them, and you panic. They've finally done it, you think. They've finally set something on fire. Sliding the door open with speed, the two men turn around quickly, both startled by you.

“What the hell did you burn?!” you ask, looking at both of them.

“Nothing yet,” Jisung says, pointing to the table where every piece of their experiment sits. The notes, every drop of liquid, and even the failed experiments.

“We talked a lot, y/n, and we came to the mutual decision to destroy everything. It's not worth it if it means destroying anything with you,” Chan says, bringing you to tears.

“We would hug you, but the side effects have some lingering symptoms. You're very difficult to be around, let alone touch, right now. Sorry, y/n.” Chan tells you, and Jisung awkwardly coughs, which makes you laugh.

“Listen. Maybe you don't have to destroy it. Maybe you could change it to be some kind of sex enhancement drug? Doesn't sound too difficult for you two.” You appreciate that they'd actually destroy something that could make them billionaires. “How about calling it Love? That's cute, right?”

“Fuck, y/n. Your brain is so fucking sexy.” Jisung grumbles, scrubbing his hands over his face and up into his hair, making you blush and giggle.

“About time you two stop this silent mutual pining,” Chan says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's wait for the stuff to get out of our system before that, maybe.” Jisung laughs and smiles your way. “I mean, if you want to, of course.”

“Ji, of course I do. I told you, I'm yours.” You reassure him, watching his cheeks turn red and ignoring Chan's dramatics pretending to gag.

“Okay, lovebirds, let's get this stuff back inside if we aren't getting rid of it, yeah? Gotta figure out where to store it before we start y/n’s genius idea.”

“I kinda like the side effects.” You say timidly, and both men look at you in surprise and you laugh.

You help them carry everything back inside, feeling a new sense of calm. Once everything is safely stored and locked in a crate that only you have the key to, the three of you head back into the apartment, the door sliding shut behind you. Jisung and Chan exchange a glance, both knowing that their bond with you, though strained, is far from broken.

"We’ll figure it out," Jisung says softly, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Now that there are no secrets."

You nod, smiling, "No secrets."

And for the first time in weeks, you feel a glimmer of optimism. The experiment may have changed everything, but it also brought a truth to light that you and Jisung needed to face. Now, you can rebuild the trust that was lost.

As the night deepens, you find comfort in the fact that, despite everything, you're happy. And if that's a side effect, then you'll gladly endure it all.

Want to be tagged? Let me know here › 👽

★𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔏𝔦𝔰𝔱★

@resi4skz @3rachasninja @moonlightndaydreams @rylea08 @hanjiphile @krayzieestay @oddracha @ldysmfrst @jeonginsbaee @leftovercigarettes @redstayrosie @krayzieestay @c4y27 @shadowqueen26 @jazskz-blog

Side Effects 3 tags

@J1s-babygirl @17racha @chuuyaobsessed @nybrolocolo

[olderthannetfic]

Obvious Disclaimer that this is not about any specific anon in particular, not about OTNF themself, but that my following rant might *slightly* punch down on people who ARE, well, older than net fics are.

But my honest opinion is that I really don’t like it when us old heads tend to sorta…talk down to? “Adultsplain”, if that’s even a thing? To The Gen Zs, by being like “damn kids! back in my day we never used our real name or posted selfies or posted about our personal life at all!” Don’t get me wrong, I’m one of those people who never posted the real me — but not because I was anonymous and cared about online safety, because I was a liar 😂 That being said, there ARE older people who definitely over-shared or “doxxed” themselves and still do, and there’s younger people who don’t!

I also feel like being “ha, these stupid KIDS who post about their FANDOM LIFE on TIK TOCK under their REAL NAME AND FACE where IRLS CAN SEE THEM, how STUPID” is not doing anyone any favors. Is that, technically, a smart thing for kids to do? No. Has it become normalized? Yes. And does that suck for people who might be bullied or outed or whatever cuz they genuinely are dumb and don’t know better and then someone they don’t like sees their stuff? Yes.

We all talk about how there’s no more kids spaces on the internet and how that’s a shame, but then five seconds later we’ll reblog that one “At any time I’m at risk of seeing a 14 year olds opinion and that’s why I hate it here” post. There’s really so few kid spaces on the net now, that’s true. We should extend empathy and let the teens be obnoxious and pretentious in peace, rather than making it a point to “ratio” or “roast them.” Idk personally I’d be completely unbothered if some 14 year old insulted my fic or my ship or whatever. I’d just block and move on, no need to try to argue with them.

And also, not all kids are even pretentious or obnoxious! I’m not saying we all need to take the kids under our wings, but we should be careful about not hating them just for being in their teens years, you know?

Also… telling a teenager to not post PII or not get into discourse or not have social media or whatever will NOT work the way you want it to 😭 kids are by default a little bit oppositionally defiant so telling some rando teen to Get Off Your Lawn (blog) rather than just blocking them, will encourage said teen to Stay On Your Lawn.

I just hate how it’s become normal for adults to talk down to teens online. I was harassed by adults online as a kid, then years and years and years later i went through my own “Older Than You™️”phase where I myself was a shit to teenagers, and I truly regret that so much. To this day I still need to make an effort to be careful. I saw on Twitter where an adult posted a DM from a 13 year old, mocking them. The DM said “I’m 14 next year, can I follow you? Please don’t groom me.” And the adult OP was laughing at how stupid the dm was. A few years ago, I would’ve been one of the people retweeting that and rolling my eyes at the child. Now im disgusted by the people who WERE laughing at them.

And again I’m obviously not saying we should be “nice” to the teenagers who mock us for our ships or who virtue signal too hard. But we also don’t need to make fun of their CARRDS or call them Puri-teens or rag on them just for being 17 or younger, yk?

--

Teens aren't 'puriteens' just for being young, dude. They have to also be puritanical bullies.

I find the stuff about real names hilarious because, actually, if you're really Internet Old™, then you probably did use your real name... it was right there in your university e-mail address! Or your random early ISP address if your stepdad got it for you and thought the university format was the default. Thanks, stepdad.

I've done every single dumb thing from going to meet my internet pen pal at an Alice Cooper concert to flying to Ireland from Japan to stay with a fandom friend I'd never met without telling anyone where I was going and without a credit card or enough cash to flee if I had to. I remember sitting on the plane thinking "Man, this is such a CSI episode topic".

The really funny part was that despite what she'd said before I visited, we ran into each of her parents at different times and ended up going to a play courtesy of her uncle, and all of them were like "So how do you know each other?" and "But you'd met before, right? RIGHT?!"

The level of panopticon is horrifying now. Teens have my sympathy. That part really is worse, and I think it's driving an entire generation nuts and we're going to see even more shit about people wanting to run away and live in a cabin in the woods with no internet. But in general, I don't think we're so different.

[ashwhowrites]

I need help! Are we wanting a happy ending with them getting together or them not ending up together? Let me know your thoughts

Here is part 2- not much that has action. More internal thoughts on both sides of the situation :)

never proofread

Eddie found himself back in a hotel room, again all over. His hands burned whenever he looked at them. The hands he put on his own kid. He was spiraling out of control. He did exactly what his wife was praying he would never do. And then added fire to it all when he lost control with Jake.

She told him to get a lawyer and he didn't know where to start with what she meant. Did she mean divorce? Fidning for custody? Was she going to turn him in him for putting his hands on their son? His brain was going a million miles an hour.

He should have known he couldn't just stop. He heard the story about Liam, he heard about the aftermath and how fucked up he became. Why did Eddie think he could easily avoid the addiction? That he could spend many nights getting high and just turn it off in a day?

He hates what Liam put Jake through, and he hates himself for doing it to him and Aria. He knew Y/N didn't deserve it either. She lost someone she loved to drugs before, and now it was happening again. He felt so damn guilty for putting her through this again. He can't imagine the nights she spent crying when he was at parties and blowing his life away.

She loved him and supported him with everything and he betrayed her in a way that was too close to home.

Eddie knew in his heart that his family was more important than the drugs. He knew he wasn't that far gone that he would choose the drugs over them. He just did a horrible job at showing it.

But he wasn't going to just give up. He had the time to get clean, he had places to go if the withdrawals were worse than he planned. He wasn't afraid to throw himself in rehab if that's what she wanted. He was going to get clean and stay clean.

He knew he had to make it up to Jake as well. All the games he missed because he couldn't get out of bed.

He wasn't going to be in any of Aria's birthday pictures, and one she will ask. He owed to make that up to her too.

And Y/N? He didn't know where to start with making it up to her. She welcomed Eddie into Jake's life and he put Jake in danger. That was unforgivable in many ways. And Eddie wasn't sure if that was something he could exactly "make" up to her. But he knew he'd never make his family feel scared of him again.

~~~

He called every morning, and every night. Sometimes she'd pick up, tell him about Aria's day but that was it. She never said a word about Jake and Eddie understood that. It's been a week since the fallout. He knew that he didn't deserve to even get to call her so he took every minute she gave.

Jake had a game this afternoon, Eddie was nervous to show up, but he refused to miss another game. He wanted to be better and this was a shitty step in the right direction. It wasn't much but he hoped it showed he was serious about being there.

He found Y/N and Aria on the bleachers, he respected their space and sat on the opposite side. He didn't want Jake to be distracted by him. He didn't want to upset Jake in a place he always felt positive in.

As the game went on, the more Eddie got invested. Kicking himself for missing so many games. He tried to keep his cheering low and to himself. Not wanting to alert anyone that he was there and make them all feel uneasy.

Jake's team won and he watched as the boy ran to Y/N, hugging her and talking all about his hits. Eddie craved to be there with them, and it hurt knowing he messed up. It was a reminder that even the little things were different because of his mistakes.

~~~

Y/N was used to being alone since Eddie was distant the whole time he was on tour, but this was so much worse. Knowing he was just blocks away and she couldn't feel him. It was like when she was being tortured, he was dangling right there, but everything was different. It wasn't easy, he messed up and it hurt her to make sure he was held accountable. She wanted her husband back and wanted to fall asleep in his arms. She wanted him to make Aria breakfast, and drive Jake to school.

She just wanted it to go back to the way it was before he left for that damn tour. Before he ruined everything and put them in this tough spot.

She almost felt like she was seeing him places. She felt like he was at that baseball game but when she looked he wasn't there. She shrugged it off and took Jake for his celebration ice cream. Aria blabbing happily in her arms.

~~~

As she got Aria settled for bed, she heard her phone ring. She set Aria down and pulled out her phone. Eddie's name and face flashed across her screen. She took a deep breath and answered the call. Allowing him to say goodnight to their daughter.

Once Aria was set for bed, she moved out of the room. Eddie nervously asked if he could talk to Jake. Eddie felt disappointment settle in when Y/N said that Jake refused. But Eddie accepted his answer.

"Thanks for answering, I love you." He held his breath as he waited for her to say something back. A tiny whisper of "I love you too," traveled through the phone. He felt himself smile as she hung up. It was small but it was something.

She got herself ready for bed, Eddie's side still left untouched. She wanted her husband and her family back. But there was a ton of damage done. She was worried they might not be able to come back from this. Would she look like a fool for forgiving him? Would she be a horrible mother for allowing him near Jake again? She had so many questions and hated she was the only one with the answers.

~~~

Jake tossed and turned in his bed. The picture of him and Eddie framed on his desk was taunting him.

He knew what Eddie did was wrong, but he missed him. He never saw his real dad and barely missed him. But Jake has missed Eddie since he left for tour. The Eddie that came home from the tour wasn't his dad, and he missed that version of Eddie.

He believed that version of Eddie was still there, inside him. How did he know?

He saw Eddie on the bleachers during his game. He still cared and he wanted to make up for his mistakes.

Jake wasn't scared of Eddie, he missed his dad.

~~~

Eddie was seconds away from passing out when he heard his phone ding. He blinked open his eyes and adjusted to the brightness on his screen.

"Thanks for coming today, dad"

Eddie smiled at the text from Jake.

He has a lot of work to do fixing himself for his family. But he knew he wouldn't stop until he did.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergent @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @dylanmunson @livsters @stylesxmunson @sinczir @monanight @daydreaming-mood​ @bibieddiesgf​ @eggo-segual​ @andrearose89​ @how-doing @funny-username-idk​ @tomorrowseverything @starslibrary​ @bl4ckt00thgr1n​ @squidscottjeans​ @spenciesprincess​ @hcneyedsstuff​ @siriuslysmoking​ @multitargaryen​ @plant-108​ @scarletwitchwhore​ @dotheyevenknowmars​ @knowitsforthebetterr​ @prestinalove​ @inesven​ @psychobitchsthings​ @caravelofthesun @slutfornatty @lofaewrites​ @corvusskid​ @cryingsince2005​ @g4ys0n​ @heasorax @hamm3tt​ @itswormtrain @f0rgggg @munsonmoonshine86

[rizatouchesthewalls]

everyone who writes and supports miles smut can block me, that includes 42 btw.

PLEASE SHARE THIS TO ANYONE WHO SUPPORTS AGED UP MINORS (SPECIFICALLY MILES MORALES)

TW: BELOW THE CUT IS DISCUSSION OF P//DO, UNDERAGE CONTENT. (I don’t go too far into detail but I know some people have been affected by it).

elaboration on why aging up (for sexual purposes) is bad

miles is canonically 15 and dont even pull that “he’s aged up” shit with me cause you know damn well on aged up fanfics they use pictures of CANON MILES. so its pretty obvious u have the teen in your mind. and you know what the ones that are around his age are annoying too but it doesnt put nearly of a bad taste in my mouth as the GROWN ASS ADULTS who make that shit.

and btw dont go and say “oh, it’s hormones and plus miles has hormones” and to that i have to say:

1. if you are a child who likes miles like that, fine, deal with that shit in private tho. you posting s*xual content of a minor is catering to creepy adults online

2. if you’re an adult saying that shit then i can say nothing less that you have the mindset of a groomer. You’re not very far from the mfs who say that “teenage girls are at their ripe age at 16.” you as an adult SHOULD NOT be using teenagers having hormones to your advantage and excuse. That’s disgusting.

“they’re just a fictional character” 😟 can you get a grip? go outside. Miles is a fictional character who is BUILT and DESIGNED to look like a teenager. And astv aint that unrealistic that you can say he’s ambiguous. He’s not. And even if he was he does activities that I do as a teen—I go to high school, I’m nervous about my future—miles is literally a relatable teen, as he was designed to be.

“Then stop looking for the smut posts.” I DONT NEED TO! It infiltrates my ASTV tag and at times the Hobie Brown tags too. You act like your tags aren’t public. If someone wanted to read a Miles fic that was normal fluff they would have to scroll through some smut too!

anyway thats all and dont even both coming up in my comments and reposts throwing a hissy fit you niggas r weird asf and can block me. maybe then id see less weird shit on my tag page. do us all a favor and log off.

+ Update: His ages from any other media isn’t a valid excuse. If you were clearly writing for canon adult miles you wouldn’t have astv miles as the icons and astv as the tag.

+ Update: Miles is CANONICALLY 15 in the first movie, and somewhere in the last movie he was YOUNGER. As mentioned above, mentioning other media as an excuse is bs when in the movies your writing for (itsv, atsv) he’s clearly a minor.

+ The thing that pisses me off the most is how ya’ll act like the people who are uncomfortable are weird. Are you not writing s*xual content about a 15 year old on a daily basis? please.

+ Fiction DOES affect reality. Why do you think people have nightmares after horror? Why does a sad film make people cry? Why does a deep movie change perspective?

+ In the scene where Miles argues with his parents, he says something along the lines of “I’m 15!!!” So if you think he’s not underage, you either didn’t pay attention or don’t have google. Plus what 18 year old discusses college that late? (without any other discussions prior?)

+ if you like little boys stop tryna hide that you like little boys it makes you even more manipulative and gross. no but in all seriousness telling minors that behavior is okay has gotta be SOME form of grooming on a more subtle scale. sorry if that’s too bold for ya’ll but as someone who’s been tricked into thinking content like this was okay when I was younger, I can confirm that this isn’t okay.

+ If to prove character that’s canonically a minor isn’t one you have to pull up seven different source materials that barely correlate to the one you write for, that character is still a fucking minor! It’s giving “she’s actually 3000!!!” when she looks 8.

yeah. kay bye!!!

[jackhues]

(mockingbird au!) better things - platonic!hughes

request: quinn's gf treating the reader shitty

requested by: anon : )

notes: hehe, this took very long bcz i've had writers block for so long, but i hope you enjoy! continue sending in requests for the au! check out the request rules below! thanks for requesting <3

likes are good, reblogs are better <3

mockingbird! au request rules!

tags: @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme , @zegras2crosby , @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots , @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila , @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy , @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley @huggyhugh , @jackhughesily , @panarin10 , @equallyshaw , @power2myheart , @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @nowandkei , @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya , @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 , @emsully2002 , @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73, @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 &lt;3

join my taglist!

gif not mine!

the first time you met marianne, you tried to tell yourself she had a bad day. 

after all, it happens to everyone. you’ve had many yourself. days when you don’t want to talk to anyone, where you especially don’t have the energy to talk to someone new.

it was a universal experience.

there’d been a knock on your door that afternoon, followed by jack yelling, “i’ll get it!” you were washing the dishes, so it wasn’t like you were going to go get it anyways.

once you put the dishes away and dried your hands, you made your way to the door, trying to figure out what was taking jack so long. he was a bit of a chatterbox, and on more than one occasion, you had to pull him away from a scared looking deliveryman.

“jack, who’s here?” you asked.

“damn, y/n,” quinn clicked his teeth as he shook his head to himself. “and here i thought you’d recognize me before my own brother would.”

“quinn!” you laughed a little, hugging him. “oh my god, i completely forgot you’re in town! the game’s tomorrow, right?”

“yup,” he agreed.

“great, remind me to prepare myself for hearing ‘jack hughes’ brother’ on the broadcast all night,” you muttered to yourself.

jack laughed, while quinn merely rolled his eyes. 

“this is why you should watch the vancouver broadcasts,” he rapped his knuckles against your head.

you swatted his hand away as someone cleared their throat.

it was only then you noticed a pretty redhead standing behind quinn and looking a little… bored? it was hard to tell, she didn’t look very expressive.

“y/n, meet marianne!” quinn said, putting an arm around the girl. “anne, this is jack’s girlfriend, y/n.”

“hi, it’s nice to meet you!” you grinned, unsure if you should step up for a hug or handshake.

anne nodded in your direction, still looking vaguely bored by everything around her. you decided on neither form of greeting.

jack and quinn were deep in conversation, sending luke snaps and telling him to hurry and make his way over to your’s and jack’s apartment. the three boys would be staying at your place over the weekend.

the rest of the quinn and anne’s visit went by alright, as long as you didn’t count the fact that you and anne never spoke to each other, despite living in the same house for two days.

you stayed at home to watch the devils and canucks play each other, even inviting anne as a gesture of goodwill.

“um, no thanks,” was her simple response. “i’m meeting up with a few of my friends to go clubbing.”

you merely nodded to yourself, doing your absolute best to try and pretend her tone wasn’t rude, and that she was just tired.

a bad day can be a bad few days, right?

-

the second time you met her, things hadn’t gone any smoother.

this time, you and jack were visiting quinn in vancouver, staying over at his house for the visit. you weren’t even supposed to be there, but jack had convinced you to go along and surprise quinn.

luke had arrived at quinn’s apartment a few hours prior, leaving you and jack to go on an impromptu date around the city. 

you knocked on the door, stepping back and squeezing jack’s hand. you couldn’t wait to see the shocked expression on quinn’s face when he saw you guys together.

except, he didn’t open the door.

anne stood inside quinn’s apartment, narrowing her eyes at the sight of you. her gaze travelled towards jack, who she recognized immediately. 

“hey, jack, right?” she asked.

jack smiled, “the one and only. is my brother here?”

she nodded, giving you a onceover, before stepping back and allowing you guys inside the apartment.

“quinn! your other brother’s here!” she called, before heading towards one of the rooms.

you and jack shared a glance, before entering the apartment. you’d spent some time here occasionally, usually when jack was visiting vancouver on a road trip, but you didn’t remember the exact layout of this apartment.

quinn, who must’ve been eating lunch, shouted something in response, before making his way over.

“hey - oh my god, y/n!” he moved jack out of the way to give you a hug.

you laughed loudly, sticking your tongue out at jack who had crossed his arms and was pouting slightly.

“told you he loves me more,” you grinned.

this time around, you went to the stadium to watch the devils and canucks game, along with ellen and jim. anne joined you guys, but she didn’t seem very interested.

you wore a red devils jersey, sporting ‘hughes’ and the number 86 proudly on your back. hockey wasn’t a huge part of your life growing up, but after meeting jack, the sport grew on you. it was hard to date a hockey player and not be a hockey fan.

you watched the game intensely, cheering whenever one of the three hughes had the puck - but you were loudest when it was jack. nico scored near the end of the first period, leading to you and jim cheering and celebrating with one of your handshakes.

while ellen loved all three of her kids, her oldest had a special place in her heart. she couldn’t just cheer against his team.

“devils are winning this, ma,” you told her, laughing during the first intermission. jim had left you guys, with the promise of coming back after grabbing some food.  “i’m telling you, we’re getting a jack goal, maybe two, and then… i’m not sure, i feel like dawson’s gonna score one.”

ellen rolled her eyes, “keep dreaming honey. but anne and i know that quinn’s gonna win this one.”

you turned to anne, momentarily forgetting she was there. 

“what do you think, anne?” you asked, trying to appease your guilt-ridden conscience at forgetting her existence. “what’s the score gonna be?”

anne looked up from her phone, bored, “does it matter? it’s just a dumb game. i don’t even understand why you’re so interested. like honestly, i have better stuff to do. everyone should have better stuff to do.”

you blinked, slightly taken aback.

“excuse me?” ellen said to her, also put off by her words and tone.

“what?” anne looked up. “did i say something wrong?”

“you don’t have to be here, you know,” ellen told her. “in fact, if you’re not interested in the game, if you’re going to talk to my daughter like that, and if you ‘have better things to do’, go ahead and leave. no one’s stopping you.”

anne stared at ellen, at a loss for words.

“ma, it’s okay, really,” you said, trying to deescalate the situation. there were lots of people around, and you just didn’t want anyone to accidentally catch wind of the conversation. “let’s not do this right now. i’m sure we’re all just misunderstanding what’s going on.”

ellen huffed, crossing her arms and looking back at the ice. on the other side of you, anne did the same.

“okay, so i’ve got candy, hot dogs, and some pop. someone please take them from me before i drop them,” jim froze at the sight of the three of you, obviously catching the tension.

at your warning glance, he wisely remained silent.

the rest of the game was tense, but jack had scored two goals - he liked scoring against quinn - and the devils secured a win over the canucks. quinn had come away with two assists, but it just wasn’t enough in the end.

the tension remained, even after the game, but no one brought it up. not until months later, when you sat around the fire at the lake house.

-

“okay, but that move i pulled on you was still better than your goal,” quinn was saying to jack.

“no, no, no,” jack argued. “the goal was so much better.”

you, ellen, jim, and luke watched the two older boys argue, laughing amongst yourselves.

“hey, after the game, why were you all so tense and awkward?” luke turned to you suddenly.

jim shrugged, “i was just following what the rest of them were doing.”

ellen’s smile had turned sour, but you understood. you didn’t like thinking about that day very much either.

you waved it off, “you remember quinn’s girlfriend, anne?”

“oh, the redhead?”

“yup,” you nodded. “anyways, she was just being a little rude-”

“y/n, don’t sugarcoat her actions,” ellen shook her head. “y/n and i were having a conversation about the game while jim went to go get us some food. y/n tried to be nice and include anne in the conversation, but anne was rude and i didn’t like it, so i told her off. when someone’s being nice to you, you can’t just say stuff like that. i didn’t like her.”

luke laughed, “me neither, honestly. i don’t know why… something about her attitude just rubbed me wrong.”

“okay, okay, enough,” ellen said. “i don’t want to talk about her anymore.” she yawned, “on second thought, i don’t want to talk at all anymore. g’night guys.”

jim sighed, collecting the smore’s sticks and following his wife inside. you and luke watched jack and quinn argue, laughing whenever the other made a comment that didn’t make sense.

you were so tired, you didn’t even realize when you fell asleep.

-

jack smiled down at you, using his your hoodie as a blanket to cover yourself as you slept.

“i don’t care if you guys have been together for years,” luke muttered as he walked by, “staring like that is still weird.”

“wait until you get a girlfriend,” jack muttered, rolling his eyes at his younger brother.

he leaned down, lifting you up off the chair and into his arms bridal style. your eyes fluttered, but at the sound of jack’s soft voice, you nestled comfortably in his arms and fell back asleep.

luke and quinn waved at him as he carried you down the hall and to bed.

“i keep forgetting to ask,” luke turned to his oldest brother suddenly. “what happened to anne? why’d you guys break up?”

quinn shrugged to himself, “after the last devils and canucks game, she said she didn’t like y/n very much, and she didn’t like how mom talked to her or something. and obviously, mom’s not going to be rude unless she was rude first. i told her that, she got mad and said i can’t talk to y/n anymore. i said we can’t be together if she doesn’t like y/n or mom because those are two of the most important females in my life. if she doesn’t like my mom or my sister, how’re we supposed to go on?”

“so you broke it off?” luke asked.

“so i broke it off,” quinn agreed.

luke nodded, as if the explanation made sense.

you were a part of the boys’ lives, a huge part. there was no way they would compromise when it came to you. there was no better thing than the relationship they had with you.

[starkid256]

you always see people saying "gender isnt a choice" and that "you dont choose your gender, you are that gender". and honestly, i feel like thats subjective

i think gender can be a choice to some people. if they feel that they want to be some gender to test it out or just to be that gender because they want to, why would you wanna stop them? its not hurting anyone for people to choose what gender they want. theyre just being themselves.

also, you cant say "just choose to be your agab" because thats restricting their choice for no reason. the only benefit that choosing to be their agab would serve is to feed your massive ego (generic you)

bonus rambling: you should still give accomodations to people who choose their gender. for example, if someone chooses to be nonbinary and they feel most comfortable in gender neutral bathrooms, you cant tell them to choose to be male or female because you dont have gender neutral bathrooms. just buy the damn bathrooms. seriously, it would benefit more than just nonbinary people! if it isnt in your budget, make it top priority. realistically, the best case scenario is to have the cost of gender neutral bathrooms packaged into the funds of standard bathrooms. (this goes for all accomodations btw.)

anyways rambling over. if you start drama in the reblogs or replies its an instant block. peace

[thejujvtsupost]

Collar Crimes -> Pouring Rain

It’s technically not April (when i originally planned to write this) but life happens. I’m thinking the next one is gonna be how they met but lmk if you guys want something else. 💗

Notes: some of reader’s insecurities come out, Suguru’s a sweetheart, talks of violence and very light gore.

“Sweetheart?”

“‘M sorry! I’ll come back later- uh I’ll see you at home!”

(On a completely unrelated note, calling you sweetheart in front of everyone made your cheeks flush and heart flutter just the tiniest bit.)

This would be the first time you’ve interrupted his business. You should have knocked and now, on top of the humiliation of dripping water everywhere, you embarrassed yourself.

It was rare for you to go to Suguru‘s office, and certainly not unattended and unprompted. His building was closer to your evening class on campus than the penthouse and you were shivering and cold and completely soaked from the pouring rain.

Well, the rain wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t dark or for the car that drove by and drenched you.

“Leave.”

You flinched at his tone and bit your lip to stop it from trembling. You couldn’t let yourself cry in front of everyone and make it worse, you screwed up more than enough. Your head was already down and you were on your way out the door as fast as you could but you were blocked by the bodies of the other men leaving the room.

Oh. He meant the people he was meeting with, to your relief. Maybe he wasn’t too mad then?

“Not you bunny, c’mere. What happened? You must be freezing.” Warm arms wrapped around your shivering frame and held you close uncaring if he got wet too, a kiss to your forehead helped calm your anxiety from your interruption.

“I’m sorry for barging in, no one was out at the desk to tell me you were busy so I thought it was okay. I didn’t know- ” you were guided to the desk and onto the surface while he looked for something in the closet— a change of clothes.

“I don’t care about that, you’re always my first priority so never apologize. Why are you wet, sweetheart? I thought you had your seven pm class.”

“I did, but its raining so hard and my phone died so I couldn’t call anyone for a ride and my friends already left and I didn’t have an umbrella and I figured I’d just walk and try to be quick but then a car splashed me and I was so cold and tired and-” you took a big breath to calm down and stop rambling, “It was too much- dark too, and this was closer than going straight home.” You still felt bad for interrupting his meeting, but the warmer you got the less you regretted it.

Suguru closed the blinds to his office hummed in sympathy. (he never liked those damn friends of yours, they never valued you enough in his opinion and the fact that they left you there without even offering a ride only proved that) and started helping you out of the wet clothes clinging to your skin before placing them in a plastic bag to take home later. “You have my clothes here?”

He smiled, “You know I’m always prepared, but I figured they’d come in handy at some point. It’s just an outfit or two in a go bag for emergencies.” Your heart swelled, he was always so thoughtful when it came to you . “I got a few blankets and pillow too after you fell asleep here the first time, if you’re interested. I have to stay a few more hours but if you would rather go home I can have someone drive you.”

You shook your head, “I’d like to stay please, if it’s not a bother.”

“Of course it isn’t, why else do you think I have the blankets and pillow, bunny? You’re my bunny, you always have a place next to me.”

The tears started rolling, he wiped them away with large, warm tattooed hands and hugged you tightly to his chest. “Sorry, just been a rough day and I’m emotional.”

“I know, but you did a good thing by coming here. I’m proud of you for thinking of yourself instead of trying to get home on your own. Especially in the dark. You hate it, and s‘not safe for you out there.”

You were trying really hard, with your boyfriend’s help, to work on the part of you that felt less than and like a burden at times. It was difficult to unlearn the way you felt about yourself for years and years growing up but you were making great progress.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to hear what you’re doing for work? Isn’t it confidential?”

He just gave you a look and helped you slide on some socks.

“You should warm up soon, but how about a rest on the couch during my meeting for a little while, yeah? I’ll keep our voices down.”

You nodded and allowed him to wrap you in one of the soft blankets he spoke of before. “Wait here a second. I’ll keep it as brief as I can.”

“So we’re looking at about 50k in damages…”

Whatever they were saying didn’t really matter to you. They kept their voices low to not disturb you for the most part.

A newer member raised his voice once Suguru corrected him immediately. “Quiet down or I’ll cut your tongue out.” And there weren’t any other incidents.

prev <- index -> •

🏷️: @annoyingstrawberryballoon @missgab

[casteliacityramen]

|| Previously ||

|| Content Warning: Blood/Grievous Injury and Self Harm ||

"How much time ya got?" Ayumi's guttural voice exits from below the curtain.

The ramen stand has broken even after the last couple of customers. While additional sales after this point is a gain on profits, it's not like they're in a rush to get rid of ingredients.

"I'm calling the shots until Ray gets back. I say when," Rio absentmindedly yawns.

Ayumi takes a deep breath in response.

"I smelled the blood on him before he got to our door," Ayumi whispers, gritting her teeth and clenching her eyes tight.

"Turns out nobody thought to block the area off or anything. Just a bunch of half-made buildings that might as well have been made out of wet cardboard.

"She got it worse than I did." Ayumi slips her hand over the stump, grimacing.

"When she fell, Jack evolved on the spot in the stress of it all. She wouldn't be alive if he had to carry her as a stubby little oshawott."

"The docs saved what they could, but the rest was gone. Buried under rubble. When Alex was called to the center and saw her daughter, he flipped his shit. I get it."

Ayumi's face darkens, clenching her jaw so hard that her facial hair twitched.

"What I don't get is why he took it all out on my son. He cussed him out. He threatened him. He said it was his fault! All of it!"

Ayumi shot forward, her voice echoing like a cannon onto the street, startling anyone unfortunate enough to be within hearing distance.

"He didn't even get a chance to properly clean himself until he got home. I had to help him do it. He couldn't lift his arms or say anything, he just cried until he passed out," She growls, shaking her head as her breathing got deeper and faster at the memory.

"I wasn't having any of that."

"Our supervisors forced us on different shifts. Then, after a couple weeks, Alex and Aila moved to Nimbasa. I haven't talked to either of them since.

"So yeah, when I saw someone who looked like Aila for a split second, my brain got fried. I thought for a long time about what I'd say to Alex, but Aila? Shit. It's been four years and I just..."

Ayumi's tensed shoulders fell, confusion and sadness mixing into her anger.

"What the hell were you thinking? Why did your dad do that to my son? Do you blame my son, too?"

"Y'know how it goes? When some tauros shit goes down and your brain keeps comin' up with scenarios? All of that sat in my head for too long. It got mixed into noise. When I saw someone who reminded me of her, the noise got the loudest it's ever been."

Ayumi takes a deep breath of air, sighing as she continues.

"Jack hasn't talked about it to me. Even now. He's actin' tough, trying to make sure nothing bothers him. But I know it bothers him. I hear him cry some nights. He won't talk no matter how much my husband and I try."

"Just like when I lost my arm, Jack and Hal were freakin' out. Constantly asking me if I was okay and if I needed help. Worried out of their minds. But I kept telling them I was fine. I was okay. Nothin' bothers me. Even though a lot of what I'm going through bothers me."

"I keep doin' that 'nah I'm good' shit whenever I have a shit day and I know they see right through me. But I'm the only one getting any sort of stable income and if I let them know how much I'm strugglin', they'll feel guilty or..."

"They'll feel like a burden," Ayumi groans, placing her forehead in her hand.

"You saw how that Umbreon was when he left. I don't want to see my baby and my man like that, bendin' over backwards to do more than they should. Feeling awful because they know I left my clan for them."

Ayumi peers between her fingers at the tip jar sitting behind the stand.

"Or doin' something stupid like steal from someone else's honest work. I know Jack's still a kid, and kids do stupid shit, but I know he's still beatin' himself up over the whole damn thing."

"I mean, ya asked," Ayumi sheepishly rubs her fingers together, retreating into the shade in a tinge of embarrassment.

"I did," Rio mutters, carrying the likeness of someone who attempted to take a drink from the forceful end of a pressure washer. Regardless, she collects herself, sits straighter in her chair, and gives Ayumi a hardened look.

"I don't know anything about being a mom, but it sounds like you're putting everything into it. That's more than enough."

"What if it isn't?" Ayumi whispers, her voice trembling.

"It will be."

Ayumi softly laughs at Rio's absolution. She's repeated those words to herself countless times, but hearing them from someone else was rekindling her slipping resolve.

Feeling a small weight fall from her shoulders, she slowly forms an idea.

"... Can ya do me a favor?"

For the first time since Ayumi started, the two ease up in their seats, using whatever time they had to finally relax. The sounds of Castelia City filled the silence in between.

"Y'know what?" Ayumi shattered the silence in a sudden (and loud) realization, much to Rio's chagrin.

"I was too focused on noodles and making you listen to my sob story that I forgot to ask you for your name," Ayumi laughs. Rio pauses, coming to the same realization before she also laughs and reaches out with her paw.

Referenced Posts: Ayumi mistaking @asktoastythearcanine 's Allen for someone else Graymont Design BuildJack Stealing the Tip JarRio's question to Ayumi

|| Pinned Post | Story So Far ||

[saikoucorps]

Write me some jeckole angst bitch (with emicole ambience) ily<3

JECKOLE <3

☆ pairings : nicole x jecka (emicole mentioned)

☆ category : angst / almost no comfort

ꪆ୧ summary : jecka realizes nicole and emily have gotten closer, jecka gets jealous.

:ఌ¨ ♱ warning(s): none

☆ Jecka was sick of it. Ever since Nicole's been in remedial classes, she's been hanging out with that psycho. Does she not see how insane she is?

"God Nicole, you can't be serious right now."

"Dude why the fuck does it matter? You're not my only friend."

If she could punch her, she would.

"That's not the fucking issue here. She's crazy, Nicole. She's a bad influence."

"Bad influence— what the fuck are you my mother? I'll hang out with whoever I want. You sound like a insecure boyfriend right now."

Damn. She was kinda right. Why did she care so much? She doesn't care about anyone else this way, she never has. Why of all people did Nicole have to make her feel this way? She didn't even care about her ex boyfriends like this.

"Whatever Nicole. You're either gonna end up dead or in fucking jail because of her."

She was right. Jecka knew she was. Emily isn't right for her.

"I'm gonna end up dead either way, not my problem.'

Then, she walked off. She fucking walked away from her. Again. Just to see that psychopathic bitch. It's been boring at lunch without Nicole, photography class doesn't feel the same without her there. Everytime she sees or hears about those two together, her heart aches. It aches in a way it's never have before. It feels like it's getting squeezed until there's nothing left anymore. The days passed pretty quickly, they got closer. Jecka was being pushed away from Nicole as time went on. Until she approached her again.

"Yo dude, do you have any cigarettes on you?"

Seriously? She doesn't talk to her for days, and now she does for a cigarette.

"Are you fucking serious Nicole."

Plus, if she payed attention, she'd know that she always has cigarettes on her.

"What? Seriously I'm in a hurry—"

She can't take this anymore.

"No Nicole. I don't. Maybe you should fucking ask Emily."

"I'm asking for her dipshit."

Ouch. So that's where she stands.

"Whatever. We're done Nicole, don't fucking talk to me."

"Is this over the cigarette? Dude it was just a question—"

Jecka didn't care what she had to say anymore, she walked out of that lunchroom without turning back. Of course Nicole didn't know, she didn't fucking care. Her attention is on Emily. It didn't make sense. Why did she care so much about Nicole? This shouldn't bother her. Hell, she should be happy a sociopath like her finally left her alone. Yet, she feels so empty. What did Emily even have that she didn't? Actually, better yet, why does Emily even hang with her? Nicole is crazy, she needs someone to ground her. Not make her worse. Jecka didn't hear from Nicole after that, she didn't see her either. The only thing she heard that was somewhat related to her, was getting a sext from her brother. Ew. Despite this though, Nicole didn't block her. And Jecka didn't either. Jecka wanted to text her sorry, ask her for forgiveness, to tell her that they should just get over what happened and be normal again. Jecka never found the courage. Until Nicole texted it herself.

"hey"

"sorry"