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[sailormoonsub]

Holiday weekend = Magia Record season 2! Starting soon! @leafbladie

Reread the season 1 recap here!

[pinkandgoldensoul]

CS#55 || So? || oneshot

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If this is your first time here on this blog, please check the Disclaimers here.

pairing: carlos sainz x leclerc sister!reader (feat. charles leclerc!brother) genre: secret relationship, strangers to lovers, fluff, a bit of smut (minors DNI), angst tw: panick attack, brief mentions of death (Hervé), swearing other notes: relationship between Carlos and Charles SUCKS. Consider it out of character, if you will. (Check Disclaimers above) Also, on the desktop version (the themed one) some of the spacing formatting isn't working, so I suggest reading it on the regular page (does it make sense? the one with the blue background. Edit: nevermind, the formatting glitches everywhere. Just... pretend it is fine.) word count: 24.2k plot: what could possibly go wrong if you hooked up with a handsome man who you too late discover to be your brother's teammate after said brother had tried to keep your existence unknown to his colleagues?

Hope you enjoy it ♥ If you do, please let me know! Thanks in advance to whoever will like, reblog and comment!

3 new messages from Lando where are u? want to celebrate with you you were my lucky charm today

>>♥<<

A bored night in the warm breeze of May, laying on the sofa with eyes fixed upon your phone’s screen: it was all you needed to twist your life around completely. Not even the breathtaking scenery outside the glass window could cheer you up: palm trees absorbing the orange shades of the sun, the placid ocean roaring on the shore, the pavements brimming with people. Miami’s perpetual heat weakened your limbs and consumed them slowly and steadily.

Charles had invited you to the race in the USA, hoping that the nice weather and the lively nightlife of Florida would perk your interest. «I honestly can’t believe you’re not coming to the club with me, that’s rude.» «Lan, you know why…» To be fair, spending time with Charles should’ve been a valid reason itself to hop on board the plane, without subtle hints to help you choose. And yet, he knew you wouldn’t have accepted his offer as easily as your mother or your brothers would. «Yes, but jeez, you can’t hide forever…» «Charles won’t let me. He wants me for Imola and Monaco too.» «No way he convinced you to do that.» «He promised to pay for anything I want while travelling with him.» It rubbed you the wrong way, and he knew it; he was sorry not to see you on any of his weekends, and you knew it. «Oh, now it makes sense.» he pauses. «Must be sad to be alone, though.»

After you had landed in Miami, being the youngest and the newest of all Leclerc’s, those two days in the paddock had been a nightmare: you had been asked to release some interviews, always receiving absurd questions on your brother’s behavior towards you, as if you weren’t independent enough to take care of yourself. The trap was set. To which your reaction was hiding in the flat Charles had booked for you and at the same time dreaming of breaking the confinement. «Maybe I won’t be alone…» «Uh? What’s up?» Exiting your first serious and disastrous relationship – as if anyone could know how to handle another person’s feelings at 21 – you had decided to experiment and not settle to rigid ties anymore, opting for fling burners instead, inspired by the air of freedom and possibilities of Florida. «I’m currently… scoping the surroundings.» You had created a Tinder account for the purpose. Scared that someone, despite your brief appearance in the paddock, could recognize you somehow, you had added pictures in which it was almost impossible to tell your face features apart and you had transfigured your surname in Clerc, enough to get away with it. It was as easy as breathing: no strings attached only in the bio, search set on matches near you by location and swipes. Lots of them. As toxic as it could be, receiving so much approval enticed you greatly, but at the same time filled you with inexplicable sadness. You knew nobody was there to stay. «Need to search elsewhere when you have me? I’m not enough for you, am I?» Despite how boldly you had followed your proposition, you hadn’t acted on your folly yet. Sure, you had been texting with some guys, but nobody had conquered your attention well enough to really drop the talk and meet them in person. You simply craved someone to take notice of you and let you know. «Lan! Of course you’re enough, silly.» Because you had craved it all your life.

>>♥<<

Through the endless swiping of new faces that Miami offered you, spread on the couch, your half-closed eyelids suddenly batted open. Chili. Mmh. Weird nickname. Sus as heck. But boy, was he handsome. You kept staring at the photos of his card, and well… His facial features were barely visible, or not displayed all together at once – in one pic his lavishly thick hair, in another one his glossy eyes, in yet another one the plumpest and most inviting lips on earth… –, but you had quite made out his body, and it didn’t surprise you at all to read in his short bio that he was an athlete. «I could tell, honey.» you whispered to yourself, still bewildered. A pleased smile adorned your lips as you read the other lines of the bio. Just searching for some good fun, no commitment. All you wanted on a silver plate, right before your drooling heart. A rush of excitement cursed through your fingertips as you swiped right and immediately opened the chat, halting in search of the right words to type.

hey, nice to

What the fuck, it doesn’t have to be this awkward and formal. You pouted in reflection, then deleted and re-typed.

hey, want to hang out?

Too straightforward, it seems like you’re the neediest girl on earth…

love your profile, I’d like to get to know you more

And this is just pathetic. Clingy and stalkerish when he asked for no commitment. You huffed in frustration and threw your arm over your eyes to conceal the hard truth: your inexperience and naivety wasn’t to be changed overnight by downloading a dating app. Looking back at the phone, you were ready to spend another hour figuring out what to say, when you noticed a new text on the chat.

are you free to hang out tonight?

Straightforward would’ve been fine, after all. Because the bluntness and directness of his text shook you deeply within, pulling strings of yearning, curiosity and utmost fascination.

yes, ofc > can i at least know your real name? cause i don’t think it’s Chili, right?

You saw his typing dots.

Carlos let’s meet at the Regent at 9

Panicking on Google Maps to search for the address, you saw another notification pop.

the dress code is quite elegant, but i’m sure you’ll wear something nice both for yourself and for me as well can’t wait to meet you

Cheeks burning red, dazed by the whole interaction and its speed, dizzy with adrenaline, you had no more focus than what’s required to type:

> me too

>>♥<<

You tried to relax your muscles under the hot night breeze, as the sun still lingered on the horizon before setting down. Nervousness stuck the dress on your skin, as much as it dried your mouth and throat. Your only shield: sunglasses. Wearing them at any time of the day was a habit you had unknowingly inherited by Charles. As soon as he had picked it up, he had bought you – well, gifted you, since he had an awfully huge collection of them – a pair of Ray Ban’s for your birthday. Whenever you two would hang out together, not often, and he’d invite you aboard his Sedici yacht during the summer break, at the sight of those sunglasses his lips would stretch in his unmistakable dimpled smile.

The walk on the pavement seemed endless and a thousand thoughts crossed your scattered mind: years and years of recommendations from Lorenzo thrown to the wind only to hang out with the first guy met online. Not even met: just let him do the talk on his own and had you wrapped around his finger.

Your sandals moving in shorter steps as you approached the lounge bar, you eyed a standing figure, casually leaning near the entrance, whose small smile momentarily melted your knot of anxiety. Carlos didn’t even give you time to greet him and take in his overwhelming presence that he placed his hand on the small of your back, gently but somehow already intimately, directing you towards the entrance. «Sorry, I’ll explain later. Let’s get inside.» «Sure!» Your voice betrayed the attempt at sounding confident with its squeakiness. Mentally facepalming yourself for it, you couldn’t stray your gaze away from his hypnotizing features: he seemed older than what you had thought while observing his profile pictures (and you had consumed them with staring, so it definitely wasn’t due to lack of attention) and he exuded a timeless charm quite inexplicable.

As soon as he asked the waiter about his – therefore yours – reservation, you were both given room and led to an inner area of the bar, way quieter and with fewer tables crowding it. He pulled the chair for you, like a true gentleman, and took a seat, grinning wide as you both settled. «Sorry for the hurry, I didn’t mean to sound rude.» «No need to apologize!» you quickly hushed, already blushing by the proximity. «And sorry if I asked you to hang out with no warning, but I’m leaving tomorrow morning and… I definitely needed to meet you first, y/n.» The name and the thick Spanish accent had sparked the thought, but his words were a confirmation Carlos was probably in Miami by chance, as much as you were. «Well, I’m leaving tomorrow too, don’t worry. And I wouldn’t have accepted if I didn’t want to be here.»

You exchanged a delighted stare, while going through the menu in search of your cocktail order and, consequently, of relief. Though, the pleasant tension you had felt, like a string pulling you to him, as soon as you had seen him, had gradually disappeared and had left space to a growing sense of ease, almost familiarity: words, together with the liquid content of your drinks, flowed without interruptions, and you touched a wide variety of topics, always finding yourselves on the same page. «Thank you for choosing a quiet place. My moves are constantly watched…» you sighed. «I came here last year and I really enjoyed how chilled out it is. Makes me relax.» Carlos leaned back into his chair, so that his collarbones immediately popped under his tanned flesh. «So you’re always chased too?» «Not as much as my brother, but yes.» «Is it because of him? Is he known?» «More than known, yes.» you smiled. «My life is reserved, compared to his.» Carlos took a sip of his drink with a sympathetic smile. «Would you prefer a quieter life?» he asked. You raised your glass, lost in thought. «Maybe, but that would mean my brother isn’t successful anymore, so no. I really can’t complain about my life, I’m… lucky.» you pulled a small smile. «I wish I were as grateful as you are.» Carlos sighed, and his resignation intrigued you. «Should you be?» «Oh, yeah, I think so.» he took another long sip, then wetting his lips clean. «But I’ve had paparazzi around me since I was young and I can’t bear the media’s attention anymore.» «There’s nothing wrong with that. You shouldn’t feel forced to gratitude.» you calmly prompted.

His pupils were quite enlarged, you noticed, and glazed with softness: your hand was laid close to his, almost at a fingertip’s distance, and for a moment you both glanced down at them, craving the same touch and connection your minds and feelings had experienced. It had only been half an hour since you had crossed The Regent’s threshold guided by Carlos’ hand and you were already perceiving a mutual tenderness none of you anticipated nor searched for, and which you now couldn’t let go of even if you tried. After chuckling to each other at the miserable sight of your emptied glasses, you both agreed to order a second round of cocktails, which flowed effortlessly down your throats as a sweet-toned conversation left your tongues. You learned about his passion for most sports, laughing and being entertained by his anecdotes, only to feel flustered by his sudden questions about you.

Finally, after staring satisfied and content at each other, Carlos asked for the bill, which he insisted on paying. Waiting for it, you hummed to the music playing inside the cozy lounge bar. He frowned, clearly amused. «Do you like this song?» he asked. «Of course I do? Who doesn’t?» You light-heartedly mouthed him smooth operator as Sade’s voice sang the chorus, moving along to the beat. Carlos couldn’t stray his eyes away from your enchanting figure and acknowledged how smitten he had already become after only a casual talk. He honestly wouldn’t believe you were only searching for a good time as he was. Apart from looking desperately beautifully young, you had a cheerful glee in your manners, a youthful spark inside your eyes which lured him in way more than he would’ve liked. He had given up on his wicked intents as soon as you had cheered him down the street with your flustered smile; he had been soft and warm for you already before sitting at your booked table. He had enjoyed talking with you more than he’d had with any past fling. He could tell you were someone different, someone to be treated with care, somehow; and the biggest surprise was that he didn’t mind at all undertaking such a delicate task.

After paying the bill, Carlos got up right away, implicitly inviting you to do the same. «Come, I want to show you a place.» Taking your sunglasses in your fingers and lightly fidgeting with them, a smile still lingered on your lips from the thrill of conversation. «Where?» Carlos grinned, placing his hand on yours to stop the nervous work on the Ray Ban’s temples. «Do you trust me?» His touch sent your whole body in trance and sudden anticipation of further exposure all at once, like a rush. Was it okay to trust a stranger? And on top of that, a devilishly handsome one? Was it okay to let him guide you God knows where in a foreign country with the darkness of the night approaching? You nodded. «Yes.» «Let’s go, then.» And with a swift move, he took the sunglasses out of your loosened grab, wearing them on, leaving you breathless as the thicker frame fitted his masculine features stunningly.

The botanical garden was barely ten minutes away from The Regent, making it pleasant to walk under the setting sun of Miami. To your surprise, some areas of the garden were empty, so that your quiet stroll with Carlos felt like an intimate travel in astonishing oases of peace, silence and chirping birds, drowned in the relaxing green of leaves. You walked alongside, so close and so slow that your hands were always on the verge of touching, until you both naturally reached to the other and sealed them in a secure hold. You smiled, buzzing with warmth. As sun rays cut through the leaves and chased your figures, you couldn’t help but be caught in staring at Carlos’ glowing skin while he was talking. «Have you ever been to Spain?» «No, never.» you shook your head. «You need to come, for sure. The weather is even better than Florida.» His genuine, happy grin made one burst on your face too, suddenly blinded by a sun beam. «You should visit Monaco, then.» you replied with pride. «You mean the Principality?» «Yes. I live there.» «Too bad I’ve already planned to move there months ago.» You stared at him, shook. How many chances were there? «And now that I know you live there, I’ve got another good reason to hurry up.» You eye rolled, flustered, brushing your upper arms in a poor attempt to dust off the cozy, warm feelings blooming in your chest. «Can’t wait.» you murmured, smiling.

Abruptly, Carlos stopped as you were crossing a small wooden bridge inside the garden, facing you and gazing low to your intertwined fingers. The soft rocking sound of water and the inebriating smell of night descending on Florida slowed the flow of time. «I, uhm… I’m going to be one hundred percent honest with you.» he began. «I really like you. This is the most fun I’ve had with someone without having to get naked since a long time.» Carlos kept caressing your fingers with his, flickering his eyes back and forth from yours to your hands. «I know that you probably expected something different from tonight…» «No, it was perfect.» you stepped in. «Indeed, it was.» Carlos smiled, still shyly looking down. «But my job makes me really busy. As much as I’d like to spend more days with you and enjoy moments together, I’m constantly travelling across the world and… I don’t want you to think I don’t care.» «I wasn’t-» «And I don’t want to force you to follow me everywhere I go, especially because we both would be exposed to the media and… I guess we’re both tired of it.» «We… we don’t need to go at full speed. We can try to keep in contact the times you are available. There’s no rush.» you suggested, leaning a bit nearer.

Only then you realized how close you had got, Carlos’ starry eyes boring into yours. «Don’t you feel an urge?» he asked, husky. «I think I do.» you simply managed to breathe out, a bit shaky. «But I have no problems in waiting, and we’ll meet up whenever-» It rained on your mouth, a waterfall of bliss and honey through the touch of his plump lips: instead of releasing a pent-up tension, it sharpened the yearn, hands searching for a place of belonging and rest on your respective bodies. «I’ll text you every day.» he said in between the kiss. «Don’t make promises you can’t keep.» you chuckled. «I always keep my word. You’ll learn to know me.» «Such a lover boy.» you whispered, leaning in for another kiss.

>> 2 new messages from Lando so did you hook up? > hottest man alive, but we only kissed lame >> 2 new messages from Chili🌶

look who’s with me

You gaped, an immediate grin spreading on your lips.

guess when you’re seeing them again

«Y/n, can you help me with the vegetables? Charles and Alex are going to be here any minute!» «Yes, mom, I’m coming.»

> omg have you planned something? you bet >> 1 new message from Lando don’t tell me you’re down for him already      > i am, plus we’re seeing again woah what happened to the whole “I’m never going to date again PERIOD”?      > disappeared as soon as I met him ♥ gross send me a pic of him rn

«Y/n?» «I’m coming!» you said loudly, finally getting up the couch and walking towards the kitchen, eyes still glued to your phone.

>> 1 new message from Chili🌶 and what about you?      > what?

«Here you are! Take this, cut these carrots, please.»

have you planned anything for me?

Pascale sighed as she was still handing the knife to you.

     > you bet

«Never mind.» «No, mom, I’ll do it, give me the knife!» you whined, stuffing your phone in your pocket. She immediately smiled at you, a glint of curiosity and mischief not going unnoticed to your trained eye. «Who was it?» she chirped. «Lando.» «Oh, how is he doing?» «Good.» Your phone buzzed as new notifications popped in, wearing your nerves so thin you had to quickly take it out the pocket and put it on silent. «Eager to talk to you, uh?» «What?» you rapidly turned your head to her. «Lando. It’s him texting you, right?» You didn’t know, but something told you your cheeks were flushed, indeed, that they had been all along since you had stepped next to the kitchen counter. A picture. What if Lando could recognize Carlos, being into sports more than you were? What if Carlos didn’t want to be shown around, after the privacy talk you had shared?

>> 1 new message from Lando want to judge myself      > gatekeeping his beauty from your unholy mind > sorry

>>♥<<

During lunch, you stayed pretty much silent, always taking the chance to clear plates and bring them to the sink so that you could check your phone, unnoticed.

please tell me you’re free this weekend i organized everything, you’re going to love it

You stared at the bottom of the sink.

it’ll be just us no paparazzi shit

Plopping an apricot on the pottery fruit basket, you glanced outside the window above the sink, a line of gray clouds aligned at the horizon, casting a dark shadow onto Monaco’s corner of sea.

You placed the pottery full of fruits in the middle of the dining table and took a seat. Charles swiftly grabbed an apple and unapologetically gave it a big bite, making everyone chuckle at his antics. Everyone, but you. «So…» he said, still chewing. «Ready for Sunday? The forecast says it’s going to be sunny all day.» «Can we ride watercrafts this time? I don’t want to lay on the deck for twelve hours.» Arthur chimed in. «Yes, of course.» Charles nodded, taking another bite. «But I’d do that in the afternoon, when the sun isn’t too bright.» «Deal. We need to organize a watercraft race!» «I know, right? What about-» «I don’t think I’m coming.» Charles, who was seated right in front of you, stopped chewing and gave you an expressionless glance. «Why not?» «I think I got a sunburn in Miami and I don’t want it to get worse.» Charles’ left eyebrow quickly raised in annoyance, then he shook his head to himself. «I don’t believe it, but you’re free to stay home.» he said monotone. «I won’t stay home.» you said quiet, but still somehow assertive. At this point, everyone at the table – Lorenzo, Alexandra and Pascale included – were staring at you in anticipation, trying to decipher your words. «I’m going to Provence for the weekend.» Charles scoffed, taking another huge bite out of frustration. «You’ll spend two days hiding under a rock, then, if you really want to avoid sun exposure there.» «Charles…» Pascale tried to warn him. He bored his eyes into yours, so that you read right away his disappointment painted in bold letters. «Some days I feel like I don’t have a sister at all.» As your mother scolded him again, you could see drops of venom fall from his lucid lips, as he had stabbed a full syringe of it right in the middle of your chest, which had caused you to abruptly stand up, hands on the table, eyes wide like a mad woman. «And I’ve been feeling without a brother every fucking day of my life, Charles.» Lorenzo intercepted your arm as you fled to your room, getting up and chasing you but not fast enough to stop your march; he was met with the cold, white wood of your door like a slap on his face, still pleading you to open it. A simple hiccupped sigh, tears pricking your eyes. Vision blurry, you took your phone.

can we leave earlier than Saturday?

You spent the evening crouched on the bed, feet pressing the duvet, fighting feelings away. It haunted you all at once, as it usually would: breaths would pick up the pace, matching your scattered thoughts, heart beating loud. Lorenzo had knocked on your door several times throughout the evening, while you overheard a constant muffled talk in the living room, sure of the discussion your dramatic departure had ignited. It was still a fresh wound. It still bled through the skin. Never having your father nor your brother aside when it mattered. Lorenzo had tried to suffice, being the eldest; he probably was the only one who had seen you breakdown before, the one able to at least take your loneliness into consideration. Out of all the people in the house, he was the one to patiently check in on you in the darkest hour of the night, knowing you’d be still awake. He was the one who hugged you and hid your sighs with reassurances, among your broken “I can’t do it”, the one to cup your wet cheek while sitting on the bed. As every other night. «Please, let me leave this weekend, I don’t want to come…» you chanted, like a prayer. «Of course you can go, no one said you can’t. It’s all good.» The one to cradle you, to caress your messy hair, to cuddle you to sleep in your twin bed. >>♥<<

You landed in Jerez on Thursday, around midday. Crossing the exit of the airport with your suitcase in hand, you got swamped with a wave of heat. Sun shining way too bright for your eyes to keep open, you placed a hand on your forehead, shielding them, so that you could spot Carlos’ car more easily. It was hard; indeed, he hadn’t chosen anything fancy like most sportsmen do, but opted for something low-key instead. Once you had caught sight of Carlos’ luscious hair and silhouette at the driving seat, you confidently walked towards the car, quite surprised to see it was barely decent and clean. Without hesitation, you loaded your suitcase and took the passenger seat, throwing an inquisitive glance. «Couldn’t you find anything nicer than this… car wreck?» He chuckled. «You’ll see why we need it.» In a flash, Carlos leaned over to grab your seatbelt and put it on for you: he seized the chance to linger a few inches from your face, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. «I missed you.» «It’s been barely a week!» you giggled. Since he still hadn’t moved away, you cupped his cheeks and left another quick peck on his lips, being too adorable and handsome not to. «But I missed you too.» you added, soft. «That’s what I wanted to hear.» he whispered with a grin. And with that, he finally put on your seatbelt, ready to switch the engine on.

The road was a lonely stripe in the middle of burned-yellow lands, hills and the smallest villages punctuating the view. You pointed out all the Spanish flags you could see, amused, letting your arm wander in the warm air outside the window. After more or less an hour of travelling from the airport, when the street started to get uphill and quite bumpy, you rapidly understood Carlos’ vehicle choice. «Where are we going?» you beamed. «Be patient, we’re almost there.» You reached a crossroads: you could either keep driving uphill or follow down a path on foot. Carlos parked the car in the small space available before the fork. «C’mon, let’s go.» he gestured. «But we’re in the middle of nowhere!» you protested, getting out of the car. Carlos opened the trunk and took your suitcase, snatching it before you could even imagine carrying it yourself. «And what do you think this is?» You raised your eyes up to the point he indicated and your jaw dropped: right at the side of the crossroads, there was a beautiful one-store small villa, with huge glass windows and a skillfully-made path of stones leading up to the entrance door. The white tint of the walls gave a sense of freshness and broadness, paired up with the same simplicity achieved through its squared forms. Carlos approached the small gate, taking a pair of keys from his pocket. «Is it for us?» you asked, dumbfounded. «Of course.» he stated matter-of-factly. Still struck by the beauty of the landscape – the sea roaring behind your back, the hill dominating it from above – you hurried up behind Carlos, following the stoned path.

«We’re staying here because this way we’re closer to the beach and to another place I’ll show you on Sunday.» «Good, because I almost only packed swimwear, as you’ve told me.» You both chuckled. Eyes still wandering around the room, enamored with the designing choices – warm and light tones both for the wallpaper and the furniture – you then ultimately placed your stare back on Carlos’ towering figure, inevitably feeling a burst of excitement and thrill. Before you could move an inch closer to him, he cleared his throat. «Come, I’ll show you the rest of the house.» The shower in the bathroom made you want to strip naked and immediately get the best out of its luxury: black stones, golden details, a small basket full of products only awaiting usage; a huge mirror above the modern-styled sink. «I’m going to spend hours in here, I’m telling you.» you said, still in awe. Carlos laughed whole-heartedly. «I can’t blame you.» You then walked into the bedroom, first noticing the king-sized bed; then, a huge, curtained glass window caught your attention, pushing you to get close and unveil the breathtaking scenery concealed behind it. «That’s the beach we’ll go to.» Carlos said, still standing at the door frame. You turned your head to him, lips slightly parted. «Carlos, this is… It’s incredible, thank you so much.» He walked over to you, smiling in delight, guiding you back into the sightseeing pose with his hands, gently. «Thanks to you for accepting.» he said, low-toned. Maybe it was May’s bright sun making heat creep up your cheeks, or maybe it was Carlos’ touch on your burning skin; maybe you hadn’t lied to Charles when you had said you had got a burn in Miami, a severe one, something not to overlook, because Carlos was drowning you in explosive helium, and the same reckless rush had ignited you both, bringing you under the hot sky of Spain. And now that you were hypnotized by his overwhelming presence, you could only search for his eyes in the reflection of the window, gulping as you noticed he was doing the exact same. The vision of his fingers dancing on your skin hit you deeper than the mere tactile perception, as if you had just become aware of the tantalizing movement on your arm. You saw Carlos’ face fade away from the reflection and felt suddenly naked, deprived of his touch. As an immediate reaction, you turned around to keep looking at him, something you couldn’t do without anymore. «As you can see, there’s only one bed. If you don’t feel comfortable sleeping together…» «No, Carlos, of course I want to sleep with you.» you blurted out in a rush, only to mentally facepalm for the unintended pun. He smirked, both amused and finding your embarrassment endearing. «Happy to know that.»

>>♥<<

There was something that either you had miscalculated or that Carlos had carefully taken into consideration while organizing the trip, something you hadn’t thought about while packing your favorite swimsuits and bikinis, alongside sarongs and summer dresses: that you’d be both almost completely naked, all day. After spending the morning in the cool, crystal-clear water, during the hottest hours you would drop back home to eat something on the fly – and change into a dry swimsuit –, then running back to the beach in the afternoon to walk hand in hand ‘til the sun set on the fine sand of the shore.

The first day was a nightmare. You both felt a rush of electricity run through you whenever you’d touch by chance, while swimming in the waves or passing a towel to the other; you were always feasting on each other’s bodies, almost shamelessly, driven by exasperation; you’d obsessively remind each other to wear sunscreen, so that you could either give help with spreading it over or enjoy one’s hands doing what the other’s craved. The only relief to the unbearable closeness was a profound, endless, affectionate conversation. Answers, follow-up questions, anecdotes, some common trivia about each other; you’d say the yearn for the physical was only a manifestation of a deeper emotional longing.

And that’s how, on the first day of vacation, you ended up looking at the soft reddish waves of sea calmly settling a layer of foam on the shore, both sitting on the sand as Carlos hugged you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. You shut your eyes, impressing the beauty of the evening breeze and the sight in your memory, while Carlos pressed his lips at the base of your neck. «You still haven’t told me which sport you practice.» you murmured. «Basically any sport, you name it.» «Are you a decathlon athlete?» you smiled. Carlos looked at you with a raised brow. «You really want to know, uh?» «Am I right?» «No, but thanks for trying.» he smirked. «Why can’t you tell me?» Carlos paused, and it was his time to gaze at the distance, enjoying the peaceful view of the horizon. «I just want to keep you out of it as long as I can. Always around the world, people watching every single move and invading your privacy, pictures and video you can’t prevent from leaking…» he tsked. «This isn’t what I want for us. I mean, look at us now: no expectations, no hectic lifestyle, no rush. We’re alone, we have nothing else but each other.» You nodded in small movements, almost to yourself. «My brother is almost never home. He’s been involved in the sport since he was a kid and already when he was a teen he’d be nowhere near Monaco.» Carlos rubbed your back as you talked. «Did you feel alone?» «Not really, no. I’ve got two other brothers.» «Please, don’t tell me they’re all older than you.» You smiled at his tone, giggling at his little “oh no…” as he realized it was the case. «But apart from gradually growing distant from my brother, the thing that I’ll never be able to forgive is that my dad was always with him. Because of him, I lost both a brother and a father.» Trying to drown out the tingling feelings of hurt failed as Carlos encircled you with his arms, pressing his lips on your temple in a tender kiss. You swallowed hard before carrying on. «So… If anything, I’m more scared of not being allowed in every part of your life.» you made eye contact with him. «And we would still have each other, no matter what.» Tacitly thanking you for sharing your feelings, Carlos kissed you briefly before settling back his head on your shoulder. «When you texted me you wanted to leave earlier, I was happy like a little kid.» You grinned, eyes veiled with sadness. «Yeah, I couldn’t wait.» Carlos gently grabbed your chin with his fingers, demanding eye contact back again: you soon dropped it, as Charles’ poisonous words still rang in your ears. «I wanted to run away.» you confessed, then resting your head onto your buckled knees, gazing at the sea. «Did something happen?» Carlos asked, soft, rubbing your back in soothing motions. «Nothing new. It’s always the same.» He leaned in to meet your eyes again, his hand still resting on your back. «Not today. It’s us, now.»

After hours of fast-paced teasing, the way your lips met in a kiss was slow, intimate; he brushed your hair with unexpected tenderness while deepening the kiss, getting to taste more of the sweetness he had drunk. «It’s just us.» he whispered again, tilting his head on the opposite side.

A soft wind rolled shivers on your skin as much as his hands settling on your waist and gently squeezing it did; heart about to burst out of your chest, you pressed both your hands on his cheeks, to keep him steady on you, not to let go of the sweet pleasure of closeness. It was only you and him on the beach, as the sun sank in the sea to let you two enjoy each other’s embrace: Carlos had spread one hand on your back, radiating a warm tingling feeling in your stomach as he slowly guided you to lie down on the bath towel beneath you. Despite the thought having lingered in the air, untold, for long, you couldn’t let yourself be bothered by where the night was leading, too pleasantly overwhelmed by his swift and yet careful moves.

Only when Carlos grazed your neck and you were lulled by his sharp inhales and his fanning breath over you, only when the bulge of his damp swimsuit involuntarily met your core causing you to grip a curl of his thick hair with your lips parted in bliss, only then you realized he was invading your entire space and driving your senses in tilt with too many feelings to process and to give into. You moaned, helpless, as he brushed over your core once again. Carlos halted, his dark irises contrasting with the white of the sclera even more, as his eyes were wide open; his chest, you noticed, heaved with an impatience that matched your own, electricity running through both your bodies. He had forced himself to stop. What are you waiting for?, a part of him said; and it was the impulsive one, the needy, the greedy, the one which had reached out for you in the Tinder matches only a week ago. The one which had him palming himself while staring at your pictures, anticipating the meeting with lust; the one that almost lost control by breathing in your scent after a few days he hadn’t seen you as he put the seatbelt on for you. But then, another part of him had put the hand brake. The one which had felt a soft spot for you when you laughed at the bar listening to his jokes, the one that cherished you like a treasure meant to be preserved pure and rare in its beauty, the one that would hang from your lips and comply with your pace, your desire.

You stared at each other for seconds which seemed eternity; you caught every single movement of Carlos’ body, attentive like a deer observing the predator’s actions. He wetted his lips, he flicked his eyes elsewhere before being drawn on you, this time with a softer gaze. His scent inebriated you as he leaned towards you, getting so close you could feel your own heart beating on the very edge of your skin, drawn like a magnet to Carlos. The concert of quickened breaths and pants blacked out the distant grating roar of the sea: your rhythm, your frequency, your tune was his to dictate.

As his hot breath signaled how he had got dangerously close to your ear, you kept your fingers intertwined in his hair, your entire body trembling in anticipation. «I want you.» His husky voice sent a violent shiver down your arching back, so deep in desire that your eyelids half-closed, fighting the instinct to push Carlos’ head on your neck to finally unleash his teasing. He had waited, he had thought about keeping you that close since the first time you had seen each other: and still he had refrained from acting on his selfish needs, and he had crafted instead the most alluring trap for you, making it impossible to untangle from him. Not that you wanted to. You didn’t know how you had both been able to fall so heavily in love in less than a week, but it had happened out of your notice, and with his tanned torso occupying all your senses – hot and full to the touch, a light veil of his cologne lingering on it despite the sea salt – there was no way to take a step back. Carlos couldn’t either. Not with your skin palpitating before his eyes, before his lips, so kissable, so perfectly laid out for him to nibble at, to mark and stain with passion. «Fuck, I need you…» You were in too deep. Your breath hitched at his husky tone. «Carlos…» His lips brushing yours with a circling motion, teasing them with a gut-wrenching delay, he whispered again honey-laced words. «Tell me you want it as much as I do, please…»

Without time to answer, mumbling another desperate please, he sealed his request with a kiss, which immediately became sloppy and messy due to your impatient bodies pressing onto the other, grabbing, exploring, roaming for pleasure. Lost in the kiss, you couldn’t tell whether it was Carlos rubbing his hard-on you or you desperately searching for friction through the damp layers of your swimsuits. However it might be, the result was the same: it had you whining and moaning, feeling the first stone-cold fabric warming through your throbbing cores, once rubbing couldn’t soothe the ache anymore. Carlos’ groan told you he felt the same way.

He couldn’t wait any more second: his body, mind and soul craved you all at once with the same disrupting force. Looking around, hurriedly rummaging with one hand in the pocket of his dismissed trousers, he sighed in frustration, placing his forehead upon yours. «I don’t have condoms here, for fuck’s sake…» he breathed out, a mix of disappointment and apology in his tone. You brushed his cheek, half hiding a smile. «But I promise I have them in the house. When we go back-» You pressed your pointer finger on his lips to interrupt him. «I’m on the pill.» Carlos’ eyes widened in realization, and despite being pulled by a nosy curiosity as to why you were on birth control, his arousal got the best of him and cut short any feasible matter.

He had captured your lips back in another messy kiss, slow-paced, open-mouthed, and his fingers had immediately rushed to teasingly push down your bottom swimsuit, tracing your folds with the thick wetness he was welcomed by. He growled into the kiss as soon as he noticed how turned on you were, feeling his own cock stir once more inside his swim trunks; with another groan, he left your glistening lips, smirking, and you understood why the moment his digits found your clit. You couldn’t control a half-screamed moan. «Nobody can hear us. I want you to be louder, baby.» As he rubbed you with his thumb slow and steady, your mind disconnected and stopped working properly: it was just him, his fingers making you mewl and his bulge against your bare thigh.

Carlos’ stare was unbearable: it was so filled with lust you had to stray away not to feel a hotter wave of heat on your reddened cheeks, to shut your eyes in bliss, to look down at his hand disappearing under your bikini. And if only you could’ve sustained his eyes for more than a few seconds, you would’ve noticed how he was struggling as well. Eight years of age gap. Sure, he still had to turn thirty, but… «Please, Carlos… I need to- GOSH!» you cried out. «Use your words, love. What do you need?» Maybe he was rushing it just for his own yearning, without taking you into much consideration. Not even a week after meeting each other for the first time and already hitting the fourth base… «Fuck, I need your fingers inside… Oh, please!» you moaned, tilting your head to the side. Or maybe he was simply complying to your desires as well. «Like this?» After all, you had already proved him that you weren’t a naïve little girl: your talks, your constant teasing (well thought-out, thanks to your provocative swimsuits), the way you hadn’t seem shocked or scared by his maneuvers but, quite the opposite, thrilled and longing for them. You were both on the same wavelength. «Ah, fuck me… Fuck!» What was he supposed to do now? Now that you were a whimpering mess under his expert fingers, now that he had you right where he had needed you to be since the first moment – below him, legs open for him, nipples tensed and visible under the top of your bikini, begging for your release –, now that he had the green light, it took a while to realize he could go for more without risking being turned down. «Carlos, please…» Spaced out, he had raised back on his knees, and you had started panting out of breath at both the sudden lack of contact and at the scene before you, his hands slowly pulling down his trunks. He was taken over by an unexplainable aplomb, moving carefully but surely at the same time, precise as a sniper in brushing your most sensitive spots: his calm had the opposite effect on your body, shaking in desire, swollen and aching, and you gripped his back once he leaned over you, his tip teasing your entrance.

>>♥<<

Your second day in southern Spain was spent in Carlos’ arms. Stirring after a night of sleep next to him, mattress and sheets still warm, you had felt his boner pressing on your thigh, as you had cuddled together all night. After exchanging the most adorable sleepy grin with him, you hadn’t hesitated to take the matter in your own hands. Neither had Carlos: less than a minute in, frustrated by how poorly he could pleasure you while lying next to you upright, he had quickly ordered you to sit on his face, so that he could grab your thighs, squeeze them tight in place whenever you’d try to shift away from his skillful tongue. He learned you quickly, cracking your body’s code after that abundant breakfast in bed; spending yet another morning on Playa de el Cañuelo, enjoying the vibrant shades of the sea water, wetting your ankles while sitting on the shore, eyes closed in delight and sunbathing, you didn’t expect you’d soon learn his.

At lunch, as usual, you both refuged back in the villa, welcomed by a cooler temperature. While preparing two bowls of salad, you felt a pair of hands sliding on your skin, rolling up your sarong to toy with the two nods holding the bottom of your bikini together. Before you could even realize, the feast had begun, as you moaned his name gripping the marble counter while he thrusted into you with one single stroke. Nibbling, biting and open-mouthed kisses were tell-tale signs of your mutual hunger, which Carlos’ cock satiated by providing you with a sickly-sweet full sensation, your stomach being filled with him. Out of impatience and urge, Carlos had satisfied his own leaning back onto the edge of the kitchen table and dragging you back with him through the firm hold he had on your hips, rocking you back and forth with ease and speed. You were now sure the sunburn had got severe, it had caused a fever: and Carlos was both the rays and the refreshing after-sun lotion, sliding on your skin, penetrating it, nourishing it from within.

>>♥<<

The surprise he had warned you about came on Sunday late afternoon. «Ready for a walk?» He had waited for the heat to be less intense, making it pleasant to stroll undisturbed hand in hand on a dirt path next to Playa de el Cañuelo, which went up the hill, amongst the bushes. From up there, you looked back to the beach and caught a magnificent glimpse of the view: the sea seemed even broader and distant, roaring onto the shore. Carlos stopped with you to enjoy the sight, reading into your sparkling eyes. «Let’s go, we’re almost there.»

You had been walking roughly for ten minutes, when you reached a crossing: the dirt left room to a wooden walkway with railing, leading back down to the jagged coast. «Este es el Faro de Camarinal.» «This is what?» you giggled. «Faro means lighthouse.» Holding hands and playing push and pull like two kids, you stared at Carlos’ lips closely as to replicate the Spanish words rolling off them, since he was determined to teach them to you. «Faster, now.» «I can’t! It’s impossible, you’re too quick.» «Try.» You both chuckled at each other, taken over by exhilaration for no particular reason but closeness. «Faro… Faro de Marinal?» «Camarinal.» «Faro de Camarinal.» Grinning at you, he let go of one of your hands to guide you towards the lighthouse once again, letting your steps resonating through the wooden boards. «Better. You improve very quickly.» «Are you planning on teaching Spanish to me already?» You both stopped in front of an old metallic door at the base of the lighthouse, on which a sign hung off: prohibido el paso. «You know me so well and yet it hasn’t even been a month since we’ve met.» «You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.» «It just amazes me.» he looked at you. «You amaze me.» The orange glow of the sunset warmed your cheeks, forcing you to suppress a smile after hearing Carlos’ comment. «Let’s go.» «But we can’t. Isn’t this a prohibition sign?» «It is. But nobody ever comes here and it’s completely safe to go inside.» He then proceeded to open the door, which was loosely closed, and invited you to step in, offering his hand to you given your reticence.

After carefully going upstairs being wary of any danger, you came at the top panting a bit, but the view managed to leave you wholly breathless: the sea, the glimmering of the distant waves due to the sun diving in and swimming in the golden water. «I used to come here when I was a kid.» «Did you come to this beach during holidays?» «Yes. This was the refuge I’d run to when my mom showed up to tell me we had to go back home.» You lowered your gaze and smirked, hit by the tenderness of the memory. «Is this a way to say you wish this trip didn’t end today?» «It is. And I also wanted to show you my favorite spot in Spain.»

You both engaged in sightseeing, Carlos hugging you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder for a while, as he had grown accustomed to doing in those three days; you brushed his arms as he enveloped your waist, feeling cozy and happy in the embrace. Softly, gently, like a dance, he reached for the ribbon of your white swim dress and began undoing it, while you both imperceptibly moved your bodies to the rhythm of your hands. «This swimsuit is the best you’ve brought on this trip.» Carlos whispered in your ear. «Glad you like it… It was meant to be my small surprise for you.» «Let me unwrap it so that I can get my real surprise, then…»

«And then what happened?» «Lan. You know what happened.»

You paced back and forth inside your bedroom, grinning wide as if Lando could ever see the sparkling magic in your eyes as you were telling him minute by minute everything about the sweet romanticism that had gone down during the trip. He had called you because he knew would like to vent and extenuate him with every single detail of that perfect, dreamy vacation. «Of course I do, but I want you to embarrassedly say it out loud so that you know how down bad you are.» You heavily sighed, knowing he was smirking by the tone of his voice. «Okay.» You licked your lips, biting your lower lip as the memories hit you. «We made love.» «Oh, wow, made love? Please, you’ll talk to me about making love when you’re an elder or something.» You chuckled, too embarrassed to reply with anything else. «So… I guess it was good.» Lando said. «It was out of this planet. It was dizzying, and he was just… perfect.» «Did he make you cum?» he quickly added. «LANDO!» you gaped, eyes bewildered. «’m just asking.» Sitting down on your bed, fingers fidgeting with a loosened thread of the comforter, your thoughts kept swimming in the sea of those recalled moments. You couldn’t help but realize that with Carlos everything had spiraled out of control. From complete strangers to lovers in a week. And the scariest thing to acknowledge was that it felt right, all along. Like puzzle pieces, you fitted seamlessly and now that you both had tangled up, there was no chance of ripping: you would text each other every other hour, hoping new opportunities to hang out together would arise, longing for connection after having discovered your new favorite pastime was looking in the eyes and talk. The mere thought of the proximity you had experienced warmed your cheeks again. «Yes, he did. Multiple times, if you’re interested!» «Weird that you think I’m interested, but okay.» Lando giggled. «Glad to hear you’re happy, though.» «Yeah, I just feel at ease around him.»

The line fell silent for a couple of seconds, giving you time to elaborate the sentence through a soft grin, head lowered. «Gosh, I think I love this man!» «Man? Is he old?» he laughed. «No, he’s just a bit older than me. But he’s so youthful as well! Lan, I’m doomed.» you facepalmed. «Seems like you are, yeah.»

You paused once again, not really sure how to continue the conversation and pondering whether you should add anything in your detailed report to Lando. You heard him humming briefly, signaling he wanted to speak up again. «When… When will you see each other again?» As soon as Lando ended the question, your fingers harshly twisted the thread they had been holding, while you were still looking down at the bed. «I don’t know… he’s busy this week, and I’m coming to Imola with Charles, so definitely not as soon as we’d like.» «Well, you should invite him to Monaco for the Grand Prix, if he’s free. He’s a sportsman, he would enjoy it.» «Invite him so that you can pester him with questions and my whole family can disapprove of both him and me? Or you want us to get caught in a storm of paparazzi and twitter threads of how irresponsible Leclerc’s little defenseless sister is?» Lando tsked and you could almost see his brows knitting in frustration. «Don’t try to steal my job and make it a big deal when things are that simple. You love each other? Yes. Then no one can say a thing. But even if you two were just fucking around, I mean…» he paused. «You should be free to hang out with whoever. It’s nobody’s business.» «It isn’t only about me, Lan… I think he would get in bigger trouble than I would. It seems like in his sport everything is blown out of proportion.» «A man who understands the struggle.» Lando added, bittersweet. «But what is all this secrecy anyway? I don’t trust someone who can’t even tell you what he does for a living.» «Lan, I just could tell he was being honest… Plus, he really looks like an athlete.» «And couldn’t you tell which sport he practices by his body shape?» «No, he’s really fit overall, there’s no prominent feature.» you shook your head. «He told me that he loves cycling, but usually riders have a smaller frame, right? I have no clue, Lan.» «Guess you just love some mystery man, don’t you?» Lando was grinning, you could tell. «Well, I haven’t told him everything about me either, so it’s only fair…» you breathed out. «I’m so scared of his reaction when he finds out about my family…» «You make it sound like you’re the daughter of an Italian mafia boss.» «You know what I mean by that…» «Yeah, I do. And you know that I think it’s silly.» You paused, gaze still down, in reflection. «It’s going to be fine. Stop overthinking, you little muppet.»

>>♥<<

Earphones plugged in, you scrolled through some of the pics you had taken with Carlos on Playa de el Cañuelo only a couple of days earlier. The sand between your toes, the warm breeze, the sun kissing your skin already felt like a thin memory and the moments, the touches you had shared with Carlos desperately ghostly.

Laying in bed at night, the apartment become quieter compared to the chatter of the dinner you had had with your family, you had been unable, despite vainly trying, to keep your mind off your little escapade. You had, therefore, found yourself stumbling upon some stolen shots of him, shirtless, hair wet and shiny, drops of water sliding on his tanned skin. You could anticipate its warmth, because you had felt it; you could almost evoke his fingers tracing your body with gentleness and precision, making you gasp. Loosening your muscles in delight, you swiftly slipped your right hand under your leggings and underwear, giving relief to your core through friction and light touches.

Carlos’ absence had left a void which you found unbearably underwhelming: love-bombing for three days had got you used to his ways, to his constant physical touch – which, you figured, was probably his favorite love language, since he couldn’t stray his hands away from your body – and now that you were laying in a single-size and empty bed, mind full of hopes and desires, you coped as you could, shutting your eyes and trying to reproduce Carlos’ skilled movements with your fingers, gradually increasing the pace, biting your lip as not to let out a single noise. I want you to be louder, baby. You knew that if Carlos were there, he would rub you hard enough to make you cry and beg out loud for more; he would not care of your brothers resting in their rooms only a couple of meters away and he would pay no attention but to you only, sucking on every corner of your breast, down in your inner thighs, leaving a trail of kisses to reach your-

S♥O is calling . . . Decline <-   -> Answer

You nearly yelped as you felt your left hand vibrate because of the call. Heart pounding out of your chest, partly because of the unexpected call, partly because you were in the middle of something, you hurriedly swiped to answer. «Hola, baby!» «Hi.» Carlos, who at first wasn’t looking at the screen in order to get comfortable on a beanbag chair, raised a brow: you had spoken so low your greeting was almost inaudible, your room barely lit by a table lamp. «Why are you whispering?» «My brothers are in the rooms next to mine, I can’t make too much noise.» «Haven’t told them about me yet?» he smirked. «No. They can be a bit protective.» «Well, then tell them not to open their socials on the… 22nd of May.» You frowned, taken aback. «What happens...?» «I talked to my management, and I settled everything for us to go public with our relationship. That weekend I’ll be in Monaco for a competition, so I thought there was no better occasion.»

You stared at the screen, brain racing at two hundred miles an hour: Charles had asked you to be with him for the race, but it didn’t mean you were obliged to stay attached to his hips every single second. And even if you had to skip some sessions, nothing was more deserving of your time than to keep close to Carlos, support him and stick with him in such a delicate moment for him and for you both. It wasn’t even a question. «If you’re okay with it, of course.» Carlos added, an enquiring look on his face. «Uh? Yes! Of course, I mean…» you sighed. «My brother asked for my presence at one of his races but he’s in Monaco too, so I’ll be running to you whenever I can, I promise. I’d desert completely him for you, but I can’t.» «I see.» Carlos nodded small to himself. «He must love you a lot to ask you to be with him every time.» «He’s been pretty insistent since Miami.» you smiled. «Why? Did you bring him good luck?» he smirked, raising a brow. «Hmm… Yeah, kind of.» you said, thinking of the podium picture Lando had sent you with Charles spraying champagne in the background.

Carlos sank deeper into the beanbag sack, keeping silent. «What?» you asked at his reaction, still trying to keep your volume low. «Can’t believe I need to thank him for having met you in Miami.» «Bad thing, uh?» «Yep, because I can just sense that once you introduce me as your boyfriend he’ll turn into a cockblocker.» At first, you giggled at his comic frustration and at the – probably true – assumption he had made; then your attention landed on the deeper meaning of the sentence and lingered on its last word, that had your core throb suddenly. You hadn’t stop slowly and lazily rubbing yourself, almost unconsciously, staring at Carlos spread out on the sack chair, and you definitely found it impossible not to keep touching when he represented such a strong and influential visual clue to your yearning. «Are you good?» Carlos’ voice woke you up from your trance: not sure about what to do or say, feeling once again near your release, you leaned your head on the pillow. «I… Please, don’t judge me.» you whispered in plead. «Of course I won’t. What’s the matter?» «I was… I am…» you bit your lower lip, frowning as you felt the jolt of pleasure approaching. «…masturbating to you. I miss you.» Carlos grinned affectionately at those words, finally able to interpret the subtle twitch of your shoulder he had been quite distracted by all along. «I miss you too, love. And there’s nothing to be ashamed of.» The hoarseness of his voice. Your core clenched around nothing just by him talking. «Are you close?» His tone had turned almost serious, consequently lower; you nodded through whines, at this point quite failing at the proposition of keeping absolutely silent. «Wanted to make a mess on the sheets before even going to bed? Wanted your brothers to walk in on you while screaming my name, uhm? Like you did on the beach while riding my cock, you remember that?» Only a couple of sentences and you were over the edge. You pressed your lips together, keeping your fingers on your clit to enjoy its throbbing and the riding out of your orgasm, wishing it’d never end. «Fuck, I’d like to be there on the bed next to you.» Carlos sighed, almost talking to himself. «Feel better, now?» «Feel amazing.» you breathed out. «I’m really sorry we can’t hang out until next week.» «It’s not your fault, Carlos. We’ll manage.» you reassured him.

As you leaned forward, sitting on the bed and seemingly about to get up, Carlos mimicked you on his beanbag chair. «Do you need to go?» he asked. «I’ll go clean up and then straight to bed.» you smiled. «What about you?» «I wanted to go to bed too, but I think I’ll need to take care of my boner first.» You covered your mouth to prevent your giggles from echoing louder in your room. «Sorry!» «Don’t worry, I was already pretty hard when I saw you in pajamas on the bed, so…» «So?» «So stop teasing me any further!» he laughed. «Good night, y/n.» «Sweet dreams, lover boy.» you joked with a fond smile on your lips.

>>♥<<

Exiting the bathroom after cleaning up, you decided to go grab a glass of water in the kitchen, still flushed by the steam of the situation.

Moving in the dark only helped momentarily by the whitish light of the fridge, knowing every centimeter of the house like the back of your hand, you startled as the light was switched on. «Oh, didn’t see you.» Charles seemed genuinely surprised to find you there, pulling a sheepish smile while getting close to the fridge. «I was thirsty.» you said, taking a sip from your newly filled glass. «Yeah, me too.» he said, grabbing from the fridge the bottle you had just put back in.

You gripped the counter with your free hand, wishing to escape him as soon as possible, but he was quick to pour himself a glass and join you alongside the marble. The glass against your skin felt as cold as the silence falling on you both. Growing embarrassed, you glanced at him, drawing his own interest on you. «Your cheeks are bright red… Are you okay? Do you feel like you have a fever?» As Charles leaned over to you, full of concern and thoughtfulness – too unexpected and unwelcome, if coming from him –, threatening to touch your skin as to prove the temperature of its surface, you flinched backwards, avoiding him. «No, I’m fine! I… Guess I should change the duvet, it’s still the wintery one.» He raised a brow in a quick, frustrated move. «Isn’t it the sunburn?» he asked, sharp. Sunken. Guilt pervaded you, head to toe. «Oh, uhm… No, I don’t think so.» you stood in silence. «Charles, the sunburn was just a lie…» «I know.» On pins and needles, you waited patiently for him to carry on, knowing there was more when he turned around to face you. «Where did you go?» «To Provence, I told you.» you sipped. «You flew off the country.» Charles kept staring at you with a knowing look, waiting for an answer. «Freak, can’t even trust Lorenzo…» you snorted. «He told me he accompanied you to the airport.» «Fine.» you took another sip. «I was in Spain.» Charles nodded to himself. «Did you go with anyone?» «No, I was alone. Last minute decision.» «I see.»

Charles retreated, thoughtful, staring at the bottom of his glass. Had you always been this distant? Had he ever had you closer than this? One step away, about to graze you if he only reached out, and still miles away from each other. Sometimes he wondered if he could’ve done anything not to splinter the relationship between the two of you: instead of blaming himself, he took it out with fate, destiny, whoever had decided that his only passion in life would make him hop on planes all over the world, putting most of his relationships at risk. But what if it had been him all along? What if he could’ve done something to prevent it? What if not keeping in touch with you enough was a burden placed on his shoulders only? «I’m… I’m sorry for what I said, last week. You’re free to choose who to hang out with, but I was frustrated. I never get to see you all often and you deliberately cancelling the rare time I’m here got me mad. Sorry.» «We were both petty. It’s fine, Cha’.» You weren’t his little sister anymore. You had suddenly turned into an adult, and it was unbelievably hard for him to acknowledge that he couldn’t treat you like a baby anymore, that you could have different plans and willing. Separate lives; nothing but a surname, a roof and a hurtful past shared between the two.

Despite Imola not being particularly sunny on Thursday morning, you decided to shield your sight with the sunglasses Carlos had stolen and given back to you in Spain. As if it wasn’t a clear enough sign of your unavailability to pictures, interviews and any type of approach, you kept your eyes glued to the phone engaging in a way more interesting pastime than looking at a crowded paddock.

> I hate it already and I’ve been here for barely ten seconds lol I know, without me any place is boring

You grinned.

> unfortunately true 🥲 > how are things there? crowded and busy my first task begins literally now I’ll text you later ♥      > love you ♥

You huffed, putting your phone down. «Y/n, right?» You scrutinized head to toe the woman dressed in red who had got closer to you, quickly guessing she could be a media manager by the obsessive worry she held her phone with. «Yes.» «Good! Charles asked us to give you a garage tour, so you’ll be joining the one we reserve for our guests, which starts in a few minutes. Please, follow me!»

Annoyed beyond comprehension, wondering why in the world your brother had decided to put you through such a torture – was it vengeance for having missed his family boat day? He was a menace, you had always known. He had told you he was sorry only to let your guards fall down and trick you right after, when you least expected it… –, you followed the staff, carelessly strolling in the back corridor of the box, reaching the garage. Too outraged to notice your surroundings, you paid no attention to the words the woman said (something about waiting for the other VIP guests) and wandered around mindless, gazing at the rows of headsets on the wall, some screens and the cars covered by black sheets. Charles had you trapped in his own hamster wheel: the fact that he liked it wasn’t a good reason to force you in there as well. You knew nothing about driving and you couldn’t care less. Literally, it was a heated discussion topic with Lando as well, because there was nothing attractive to you in risking your life at 300 km/h. Absolutely nothing. Knowing Charles, he had planned your entire day to avoid losing track of you as it had happened in Miami. It wasn’t established in your deal. Little shit.

Still fuming at the thought, carefully intending to search a boutique nearby – if any existed in that God forgotten Italian village – and force him to buy the most expensive dress of the lot, you snatched your sunglasses away, not bearing the thought of them being Charles’. Phone vibrating in your pocket, you grabbed it and glanced at it.

1 new message from S♥O love you too

His words melted your rage like snow under the brightest sun: they warmed your whole chest, making a smile linger on your lips. Hearing people talking and walking into the garage, you raised your eyes from the screen; in the process, you involuntarily locked gaze with someone who seemed to be looking in your direction. And you froze. To be fair, you could tell he had been frozen longer than you had and that, in fact, he had caught your attention exactly because he was already standing still the moment you looked around you in the room. Carlos’ doe eyes were meters away from you, as his body was wrapped in the Ferrari merch you were so used to seeing in your brother’s wardrobe, standing with his phone in his hands, like you were, lips parted in astonishment and confusion.

An unmistakable laugh emerging from the back of the garage together with the flow of new people put you in alarm, which was justified as soon as Charles strolled casually his way into the box: you immediately looked away from Carlos, terrified that small interaction could ever be caught. As if you could slow down your heart thundering in your chest.

«What are you looking at?» Carlos turned his head to Charles, who was leaning on the wall next to him. «Nothing.» Why would you be there? You had a VIP pass hanging around your neck. Maybe you had got it thanks to your brother being a famous athlete… But he couldn’t spot anyone else among the guests around your age who could be your sibling; no one was as beautiful as you, no one even got near your perfection. Did you know? Had you found out he was a F1 driver and decided to surprise him, to confront him? After all, the real mystery was how you hadn’t managed to discover it yet…

«I’m doing the tour, today.» Charles plainly said. «What? You never want to.» Carlos smiled, knitting brows. Looking at his teammate's casual pose, arms crossed and sunglasses on, chewing on a gum, Carlos suddenly realized something; and he wished he could turn around to compare him to you, as doubts and hypotheses sprung in his mind. «Hello, everyone!» But Charles had already gathered and greeted the guests, and Carlos found himself surrounded by mechanics to proceed with the seat fit.

Needless to say, you understood nothing of what Charles said. Hyperaware of your surroundings, you tried to peek at Carlos, who talked to various team people – probably engineers –, then climbed into the cockpit and did checks you couldn’t see the purpose of. Charles occasionally threw dimpled smiles to you while speaking, both hoping to entertain you and getting on your nerves, well knowing you couldn’t pull a tantrum at his workplace. In five minutes, the activity inside the garage died down: Charles had dismissed you all, and you had glimpsed Carlos getting out of the car. «Next, you’ll visit the hospitality. Follow me, this way!» As the same woman you had met earlier gestured to all the guests to form a group behind her, you reluctantly entered the corridor towards the exit, not before glancing back, desperate to see Carlos one last time. You almost gasped as you saw him quickly step towards you, who were then forced to face forward, somehow fearful: you could just feel his silhouette towering yours as he chased you close.

Before you knew it, in the mid of the corridor, he had grabbed your wrist and dragged you inside a small room, shutting the door behind him. What now? You had little to no time to elaborate the situation, to master the catastrophic impact of Carlos being a F1 driver and Charles’ teammate; putting pieces together, the overall picture still had blurry borders and it shook before your sight. In that fraction of eternity – since meeting Carlos seemed to have halted time –, though, locking gaze with him, you realized a deeper truth. He was in front of you, flesh and bones, body and soul. He was the man you had incoherently fallen in love with in such a short amount of time and whom you couldn’t let go. At unison, two listeners tuned into the same radio station and moving to the beat of the same song, you leaned close to each other and you pressed lips upon lips, body upon body. You felt Carlos holding you tight in his embrace, afraid it was only a vision, a fathom, a ghostly appearance, and you clung onto his shoulders stronger to reassure him, since you definitely weren’t planning on withdrawing from his touch.

It took long to stop the kiss and get to talking; somehow, you both were always discovering a new corner of lips you craved to tease, to nibble at, to smother with kisses. Once you felt Carlos’ breath hitch and his movements ceased, as he tried to get your attention in order to speak up, you braced yourself for his words. «Why are you here?» he let out in one breath. «My brother… the  one who’s an athlete…» you inhaled. «That’s Charles.» Carlos spaced out, and you showed him a sympathetic smile while caressing his cheek with fondness. «You’re from Monaco…» «Yep.» you kept brushing his skin, appreciating the smoothness of it, able to guess he might have shaved that same morning. «You were in Miami for the race, weren’t you?» You nodded in small movements, waiting for his reaction. «But like, how didn’t you recognize me? Did you pretend not to know?» «I told you I never went to Charles’ races. I’m not interested in F1, I’ve never watched it on tv…» «At least I know it wasn’t a lie, then…» he leaned his head back, sighing.

There was no way of hiding the hint of fear you felt while biting your lip, examining Carlos’ expressions as they changed rapidly. Through it all, though, he never retreated from your touch, keeping you tight in his arms. «What a mess…» he muttered under his breath. «He can’t say a thing, it’s not up to him to decide who I’m dating-» «Y/n, there are… dynamics that you can’t understand. It’s much more than an overprotective-brother matter.» «Then what is it?» «Y/n!» Carlos shut his eyes in annoyance as he heard his teammate, your brother, searching and calling for you. «Y/n? Guys, did you see my sister?» In mutual agreement, you stared at each other while reluctantly loosening the embrace; taking a sharp breath in, Carlos then placed his hand on the knob and opened the door. «She was being nosy in the strategy room. She said she got lost.» Without paying too much attention to Carlos’ justifying words, Charles only addressed you. «Go reach Arthur and mom, we’re having lunch at the hospitality together.» You simply nodded, regretfully walking out the garage without sparing a last glance at Carlos, who was then leaning against the door frame. As the Spaniard was about to follow you and exit the box too since his duties were carried out, he felt a hand wrap and drag his arm to prevent him from leaving. «Y/n is my sister.» Carlos tried to play it cool and smirked. «I didn’t know anything about her.» «And that’s exactly how it’s supposed to always be.» Charles stepped closer to Carlos, never letting his smile falter. «Don’t get near her.» Something about his eyes, despite the attempt of coming off as friendly, something feral, almost murderous struck Carlos and left his heart blue, aware that there was nothing he could possibly do to change Charles’ disposition towards him. At the same time, however, he had to restrain himself from barking at his teammate: Carlos had sisters himself and had experienced protectiveness towards them, but he had never gatekept their existence from the entire world as Charles had done with you. He had never seen a picture of you, never known a younger Leclerc was part of the family… Cutting you off from his passion and his job only to then plead you to be a part of his life back again and suddenly dragging you around the world was simply selfish. He could tell why you would always tense up whenever you mentioned your arguments and your lacking relationship with him, and if you knew on which terms Carlos and Charles were, maybe you would’ve backed him up. Maybe you would’ve picked his side instead of Charles’, as everyone else did.

No one could deny how much Charles was the most liked, protected and favored driver out of the Ferrari pair, and this partiality unluckily showed through divisions inside the team, which no one dared speak about. Mechanics, media staff, engineers: Charles had to be cherished like a baby prince, able to obtain anything, keeping people’s hearts wrapped around his fingers, to the point he could throw ultimatums and threat to leave the team and gain, in turn, the dismissal of a team principal with a favorable replacement. 

Deep down, Carlos knew it was no one but Ferrari’s fault, with the team who had let Charles progressively identifying with the team until losing him would have a tremendous negative impact on the brand, and most of all everyone relied on him for the title championship’s fight without even considering any other person. They had made him too important, and now they couldn’t afford to lose him, even if this meant sacrificing their other driver. They had already signed Hamilton before the season had even started. And that Charles himself didn’t like Carlos much, well, signs were between the lines, for the ones who could read them properly. He had beaten Charles in the end of the first year as teammates, though people seemed to forget it. He had secured the only win of the team in the 2023 season, and had replicated it triumphantly in Australia. What did he have to do to shine as bright? What did he have to do to be… chosen?

>>♥<<

You waited in the interstice between Ferrari and McLaren’s hospitalities, barely hid in the shadow, sunglasses purposely on to avoid crossing gaze with the crowd walking up and down the paddock. Carlos had texted you, saying he would reach you as soon as lunch with the team would be over; on your hand, you had finished eating quite early since you felt no big appetite, sickened by a pounding question. Had you rushed things with Carlos? The question left your mouth dry, your hands clammy. He had seemed too hesitant, too fearful, and at first too slow to commitment, always managing to pull out excuses as to why he wasn’t ready to go public. What if it had been a fleeting moment? But how could all of it be a lie? Lying in the sand, limbs intertwined, giggling and whispering slices of life to each other as the sun set down.

A sigh revealed Carlos’ presence aside you. «I’m going to be brief. Things between me and Charles are a mess, when it comes to dynamics within the team. It’s not even hate, it’s way more subtle than that…» «It’s competition.» «Unfair competition.» he spatted. «He knows the team will always back him up, whereas I’m currently without a seat for next year.» You shot your wide opened eyes to him. «What?» «I was negotiating the renewal when they suddenly announced another driver they had been in contact with for quite a long time. The team told me nothing.» You passed a frustrated hand on your face, trying to wash away mental fog. «You don’t want Charles to be on your tail more than he is now, I guess.» «I don’t want him to force you to choose either him or me.» he stared at you. «Because you can’t help choosing him.» «No! I don’t care about him if this is the way he treats people! And why would you assume I wouldn’t choose you? I…» You halted after suddenly noticing your hands were now resting on his chest; maybe too much of an intimate gesture, but delicate enough to soften Carlos’ expression, sewed with pain. «You?» «Y/n!» You stepped back abruptly, before even turning around to see who was searching for you with such a greeting, before Lando’s curly locks bounced over to you. «Oh, Carlos!» the Brit smiled sheepish. «Do you two… know each other?» A F1 driver recognizing you right away with sunglasses on and cheering you as if nothing happened, only to be clearly surprised and slightly embarrassed locking gaze with him. Math wasn’t mathing.

Carlos smiled, genuinely curious as to why his old teammate had approached you – or tried to, before noticing the presence of a third wheeler – so confidently when, according to you and your brother’s words, no one in the paddock knew a thing about you. «No, not really. She is a VIP guest Charles asked me to treat good. Probably a friend of his.» Carlos grinned. «Do you know each other?» You could tell by the tone that the question, though his eyes were on Lando, was actually directed at you as well, and you could easily imagine the confusion and the frustration reigning in Carlos’ head. «Uhm, yeah.» Lan said, unsure. «We’re friends.»

>>♥<<

The knob clicked closed behind you. It had been a long day: trying not to show your inner turmoil, trying not to think about him too much, trying to make sense of the situation that had formed before your eyes in the span of a morning.

we need to talk i'll let you in my hotel room, i'm at the same floor charles is 8.30

You glanced at every clock your eyes could spot, compulsively checking the time on your phone’s screen, always managing to forget it and therefore forced to take a look again. Hours drew longer and longer as the moment approached, they projected shadows on your thoughts, dark and frightening.

Clearing your throat, you knocked on his door lightly and it surprised you when you felt it retreat from your touch almost immediately, opening. You quickly shuffled inside, hoping not to be seen by anyone in the corridor. Carlos vaguely glanced at you, as you could tell he was deep in thought. Not sure what to start with, you grabbed his hands, fidgeting with his fingers so that you keep your head low staring at them. «How does Lando know you?» «We met in Monaco without knowing that… that he was him and I was me. We became friends before Charles could even find out.» «And how was Charles okay with it, given his “no sister” policy with us drivers?» «I guess he couldn’t do much, at that point. But Lan told me that he had to swear he wouldn’t say a word about me.» «The only secret he was ever able to keep.» Carlos scoffed. «It had to be the most precious girl, of course.» You raised your eyes at him. «What do we do now?» Carlos didn’t answer, choosing to enjoy the silence and draw you near with his arm; he let you adjust in the hug, as you wrapped his waist, while he left a kiss on your head. That shower of love reminded you how much you had longed for his presence; despite being hundreds of kilometers away from home, you still somehow felt in the right place. You knew what Carlos was about to say. Yet, his words came late, choosing to settle in the embrace a little more, adjusting just so that he could wrap you tighter and fit perfect. «Charles can’t know.» You shut your eyelids close, inhaling deeply. Embarking in a secret relationship wasn’t on the plan, weeks earlier. Neither was Carlos. >>♥<< His fingertip traced your skin, removing unwanted strands of hair out of your face, watching you sleep in his arms with a tender smile. He let his digit draw soothing lines on your forehead, willing to undo its knit. It wasn’t going to be easy on any of you, lying to half world. And yet, no other choice was left.

«Did you save me as “so” because it stands for “significant other”?» Your cheek inseparable from the comforting warmth of his chest, you eyed up at him, irises glinting with amusement.

Carlos had invited you in his changing room inside Ferrari’s hospitality in order to chill and relax a bit before FP3 in Monaco. You were surprised to see there wasn’t a lot of space, forced to lay on a small couch. «Where did you learn that?» «Internet, of course.» he said, matter-of-factly. «What, did you search the short form of “smooth operator”?» Giggling, you threw another jokingly glance at him, noticing his brain gears moving as he spaced out. «I never realized…», he shifted his gaze on you, «until now.» Willing to get closer, you flipped around and climbed upwards, resting your hands on his broad chest, still smiling at him. «You’re my so, in every way.» You left a quick peck on his soft lips, biting your own in awe, admiring how lost he seemed. «So?» «So.» you tenderly brushed your nose against his. «It’ll be my secret code for you, from now on.» «I want it to be a secret code for me too.» Carlos’ lips curled in a pensive pout, while you couldn’t stop yourself from leaving another peck on them, slower this time, but still feather-like. «Then, you’re my… Sexy Owner?» You both burst out laughing. «What? It’s true, you’re both sexy and you own me.» «I don’t own you, Carlos.» you eye rolled, still grinning. «But we own each other.» he firmly grabbed your waist, as you still laid comfortable over him. «Or at least I own you, according to what you said last night…» The light pat he gave on your bun, paired up with his breath fanning on your neck triggered a cheerful chuckle in you. «What about Sweet Oath?» You looked back at him. «An oath?» «An oath of love. That’s why it’s sweet.» «You’re the one being sweet.»

Exchanging another small kiss, you got startled as Carlos’ alarm went off to warn him about the light training he was meant to do before free practice. «Never lasts long enough.» he grunted, leaving another kiss on your lips. «Are we hanging out tonight?» you asked, climbing off him reluctantly to let him go. «Maybe right after qualifying. I need to attend a dinner with sponsors.» «Business nights, uh?» He grinned, as you both stood up. «Be careful when you exit the room. Wait here a few minutes.» «Good luck.» «It’s just free practice.» he grinned.

After he had closed the door, you sat back again on the red pillowed coach, taking a closer look to the furniture: a painting with both Carlos and his father; a Spanish flag, to which you smiled reminded of the trip to Playa de el Cañuelo; the white varnish of the wardrobe. That small corner of Monaco was dressed in Carlos' clothes as the only fortress of freedom in a country so foreign to him and so dearly close to you. The thought that he'd be living in Monaco too pretty soon and that seeing each other wouldn't be a problem through his off season quickened your heartbeat. Your love was growing fast, faster than anyone racing in those streets.

Hearing nothing but stillness outside the room, you opened the door and got out without suspicion, ready to go downstairs. «Y/n?» Struck, you stopped and raised your gaze, who was following your feet's movement. Lorenzo. He was in the guests’ area of the second floor, phone in hand, staring right in your direction. «Yes?» Fuck, you knew he had seen you. You could read it in his face, in the way the brows wrinkled his forehead, in the unsure tone he had used to call you, in the slow steps he made towards you. He halted, pausing to place his phone back in the pocket. «All good?» «Yes, just need to use the restroom real quick.» He nodded small as a sign to let you go. Confirmed, he had noticed. He knew you were lying.

>>♥<<

Waving back to fans behind the pitlane fence as a form of greeting and thanking, Charles rushed back inside the garage. The love he received in Monaco was comparable to nothing else. Walking those streets, getting to drive them and own an entire country, wrapped around his fingers, was quite the power at such a young age. Still, Charles didn’t feel pressure from it, nor the need of controlling or maintaining it: when you’re comfortably in the lead, you only see the road ahead and you don’t focus on the position you’re in.

Entering the box, searching for Andrea, Charles didn’t expect to find you engaged in a conversation with his teammate. About F1. «… and they could undercut us.» «Undercut? What does that mean?» Watching Carlos talk and gesture data on a screen, hearing his words half eaten up by the noise of the mechanics cleaning the garage, Charles didn’t stray his stare once. The way his hand lingered on the small of your back, almost without touching it but still hovering on you like a magnet's pole meeting one of the same sign, not able to make contact and yet forcing proximity, pressed an emergency button in Charles' brain. And even more so, as you gazed intently at the screen, willing to follow the Spaniard's explanations. Because when you’re in the chase, the subordinate position you’re in never ceases to pound in your head as the deadliest sin.

Before he could even prevent himself, Charles was already walking towards you with hands stuffed down into his loose sweatpants. «This is why in case of safety cars it's best to-» «Pit so no one undercuts you. Right, Carlos?» He knew. Inside his eyes, Charles could read annoyance for the interruption, as he saw your attention shifting from Carlos to himself. «Why are you guys talking about undercut? What did I miss?» «Carlos was teaching me some stuff on strategies, since I had some questions.» «You? Questions on strategy?» Charles scoffed, almost jokingly. «And why didn't you ask me instead?» «Because Carlos is a great teacher.» you grinned. «And he was the only one available.» Two bullets shot at once. A glint, the fastest and subtlest, flashed in Carlos' dark irises, bright enough to catch Charles' attention. Neither of them was keen on the idea of losing, but if there was anything Charles didn't want to be won over was a stranger engaging with you and getting your undivided attention better than he had ever done himself. He couldn't bear anyone winning you. «So?» The angles of your mouth curved in a smile unconsciously, hearing that secret code escape Carlos’ lips with such a teasing tone; and it tasted even sweeter when Charles decided to simply walk away, answering nothing to the cruel evidence.

White and black waved at the cross line, as a red car flew on the straight. The jewel had been caste onto his long due awaited Prince’s crown: Charles had won in Monaco. Emotion brimmed in every pair of eyes you met. First Lorenzo, then Pascale hugging you up, you stared at the screen and tried to make sense of your brother’s team radio being broadcasted, while you tried not to lose Carlos out of sight through the wide window giving you a majestic glimpse of the Principality. You all ran downstairs, flooding the pitlane to welcome the winner, to see his fist brought up to the sky, to hear the screams and cheers muffled by his helmet, to release your breath as soon as Charles sighed in relief too.

As you followed his red suit launching into the mechanics crowd, you swallowed hard at the scene, Charles ruffling Arthur’s hair and hugging each other with joy. It was less than a couple of meters away from you, and yet it felt like joy was a matter only to be shared between them, as if that win they so much ached for was only meant to drown you down in a painful defeat.

Charles eyed you behind Ferrari’s president Elkan but didn’t linger on you much, swamped by other people congratulating him; Carlos, instead, embracing the man who was unconsciously guarding you from the track – said Elkan –, he took the opportunity to make a deep eye contact. You noticed he must be tired or bothered by thoughts too, and if only cameras weren’t capturing every single second of the happy chaos filling the boulevard, you would’ve leaned in to leave a kiss on those soft, plump lips of his.

>>♥<<

«I know you might disagree, but… Today was a really special day for Charles and it’d be great if you could join the celebrations tonight, with him. With us.» Your mother hummed to Lorenzo’s words, glancing at you to check your reaction, which was more than slow to show. «Charles, a-and Arthur as well, would be so happy to have us all together, like the family we are.» The family you were. You stood in silence, eyes purposefully avoiding theirs not to dwell on that unhappy phrasing, carefully pondering and recalling the brief conversation you and Carlos had barely managed to hold after the podium celebration back in his small room inside the hospitality, easily hiding when the full attention was placed on Charles. There’d probably be a celebration of P3 too. «Dad would’ve liked it as well.» Pascale added. And what then? Wouldn’t a chance to see Carlos be more than enough to set resentment and old rotten feelings aside? «Yes.» Lorenzo agreed, lowering his head. «Where is he partying?» you asked, monotone. «How come where? At Jimmy’z, of course.» Your eyeroll was accompanied by a sharp inhale, regretting already the resolution you had just formed. «I’ll go home as soon as I’m tired or bored.» «Are you really coming?» Lorenzo asked surprised, as if he had just made peace with the fact you would turn the invitation down. «But of course! You can go home whenever you feel like it, since we’ll probably stay up very late… You’ll make him happy just by being present for five minutes.» «Don’t give me ideas I wouldn’t hesitate to put into work.» you said, teasingly. Pascale grinned wide, sincerely glad to have all the Leclerc’s on the same page – quite a novelty, lately. «Good! Do you need help choosing your dress? Styling your hair, maybe?» «No, mom, I’m fine. I can manage.» «Okay, I see… Always the self-made woman!»

>>♥<<

The shiver and the adrenaline coursing through your blood as soon as you put foot in the club inevitably sprung a smirk upon your lips. You knew it was a mistake, and still, you couldn’t stop yourself from falling for it. You, Carlos and your brother dancing and getting wasted in the same room.

You had felt it right as you posed against the Jimmy’z cardboard next to Charles for some family shots, it was in the nice breeze travelling down your skin: you knew it was on you, and you only flashed smiles to the camera because you were aroused by that thought. Carlos’ stare. It told you everything you needed to know as soon as it found you among the crowd and rested on you; his eyelids had widened in surprise, while he frowned, worry and concern concealed by a layer of undeniable excitement. In that quick exchange of looks, it was made painfully obvious to both of you that staying away from each other would be a challenging task, almost impossible, if only Charles’ delightful expression wouldn’t haunt your sight left and right.

«Lando! Lan, congrats, bae!» you slurred, lacing your arms around his neck. «Thanks, babe! I wasn’t on the podium, but I appreciate.» he laughed. He then paused and checked you out with smiling eyes, trying to interpret your weirdly affectionate state. «Who did you get all this cute and worked up for?» «Uh?» Lando had to repeat the question through the loud cheers of Charles’ friends near you. «Whose heart are you trying to steal being this giggly and adorable?» Eyes bored deep into his, suppressing a smile biting your lower lip, you faked the purest honesty and innocence of mind. «No one’s.» Your hidden mischief didn’t go unnoticed to Lando, who nonetheless decided to let it slide off his mind, letting his gaze wander in the packed floor. «Want to dance?» His quick request caught you off guard, making you turn around to him with a puzzled expression. You had barely even realized his hand was resting friendly on your naked shoulder, his fingers squeezing it gently as to silently repeat the offer. «Yes, sure!» Lando vibed to the beat, taking small sips while flashing smiles at you: he could see you were having fun and definitely not sparing any ounce of energy, letting your hair sway left and right to the rhythm. Until, a flash. Behind you, in the sea of dancing bodies, he had caught someone flicking his eyes on you. Lando decided to take another sip, considering it wouldn’t be unusual for people to notice you. But then it struck again, and he managed to catch the person’s face. «What’s wrong?» you half-screamed at Lando, trying to make yourself be heard. «Nothing, thought I saw someone I know.» He then brushed your arm lightly. «I’ll come back in a second.»

>>♥<< Drink in hand – an unnecessary one, since you were already quite tipsy, but absolutely required to argue with Arthur like lords far from the dancing chaos – you reasoned out loud that the only good thing about Jimmy’z was the music. He chuckled in agreement, taking a sip. «The venue is cool, though, don’t you think?» he asked. «Would be better off without those naked girls flashing everyone.» «They’re not naked!» Arthur smugly replied. «But I see why you’re not interested.» «Are you?» you asked, disgusted. «I mean…» You scoffed at his collected reticence. «C’mon, don’t play the goody two shoes! I bet you wouldn’t complain if it was a sixpack on full display.» «But I don’t want to be flashed every single second. I’m not always in the mood, you know?» you teased, placing your gaze back to the crowd. Arthur kept staring at you, raising a brow and pulling a knowing smile. «Oh, really?» «Yes.» «Then why have you been dancing like crazy all over Lando while wearing your revenge dress?» You looked at him, genuinely puzzled. «Revenge dress?» «This is the dress you wore the night after breaking up with that dickhead of your ex-boyfriend when we partied at Buddha’s. It’s the “partying ‘til I forget my name” sexy dress.» The realization made you laugh uncontrollably hard, spitting out the sip you had taken back into the glass and obliging you to lean on Arthur’s arm for support. Of course, you couldn’t refrain from laughing long enough to let your brother know how drunk you actually were, how unstable you seemed to be on your high heels and how difficult it would be to let you go back home alone in that state.

While gripping Arthur’s arm tight for support, a trail movement at the back of the room perked your interest, and you were quick to see a group of people walking towards the VIP room, amongst which you easily spotted Charles – under his unmistakable Monaco flag – and, to your dismay, Carlos. You flung yourself away from Arthur, rushing to the VIP room door before they could reach it, dodging waiters and bodies dancing around, trying your best not to twist your ankle in the process; ignoring Carlos’ widening irises, you grabbed the shuffling flag away from Charles’ head and bore your eyes into his. «What are you doing?» you asked. «We wanted to go inside-» «I want to come in!» you pouted. Charles, already quite wasted, stared at you, seemingly unable to make sense of your weird request. He’d always thought you didn’t like the VIP room, he had it clear; still, your fingers gripping his shirt and your eyebrows knitted in plead were unequivocal signs of protest in utter contradiction with the past. It didn’t even cross his mind why he would ever deny you the access when he had, in fact, waited for you to get closer to him and join him since the very beginning. Since forever. He would always have to see you party with your friends in other clubs, purposely avoiding the one he was in, just so that you couldn’t meet him. It was a no brainer for him to giggle at you and ruffle your hair with a drunk smile, heart swelling with pride and happiness. «Of course, let’s go!»

The shades of the dim lights were blue and red, creating nice purple shadows on the black leathered couches, on the uncountable glasses placed on the coffee table, on the features of everyone sitting around you. Shameless, you couldn’t help but focus your entire attention onto seducing Carlos from across the table: index tracing the edge of your cup, taking sips from the straw while looking straight into him, crossing your legs so that the thin fabric of your dress would expose even more of your thighs. An ineffable pleasure hit you when you noticed the gleam in his dark eyes. He was hooked. You had seen him seeking relief from the heat creeping on his body, pulling away from his neck the tight-fitting shirt with a finger, shifting in his seat, first leaning over with his forearms on the thighs in order to desperately get involved in the conversation and avoid staring at you for an unreasonable amount of time, then ultimately giving up, crashing his back onto the back of the couch, manspreaded. Useless to say you fell into his trap. His smug smirk, half-lidded eyes, warned you he had very well noticed your reaction; catching you staring was the sweetest revenge, but still let him unsatisfied. He had to swipe the palm of his sweaty hands onto his trousers and swallow hard, as he watched you drink your thirst away and diverge gaze, before one of you could call out the shitshow and drag the other out of the club to finally have what you both wanted, touch starved.

Luckily for you, nobody at the table had picked up on the intense and mutual riling up competition you had started: except for Lorenzo. His eyes had followed Carlos’ body spreading wide on the couch and his clear arousal after feasting on your poses all night. Lorenzo hadn’t missed the way you had bit your lower lip, immediately taking a long sip of your drink, visibly affected by the exchange of looks with Carlos. Before he could process it any further, you abruptly popped standing up. «I’m going dancing!» Not that anyone really followed you; Charles, as well as all his friends, were deep in conversation – or, at least, drunkenly attempting to – digging up the past and cherishing the incredible victory achieved.

Carlos turned his head around, unable to stop following your silhouette everywhere like a sunflower chases the brightest star in the galaxy: you were that charming to him, that dear. «Carlos, what about you?» Carlos’ head snapped back to the table, breath almost audibly hitched, wide eyes placed on Lorenzo who had been the one to address him. He hadn’t heard the question, because he had been too caught up admiring the way your hips would sway to the rhythm, tracing imaginary lines on your neck, along your collarbone, done to the neckline of your dress… Fuck. «Sorry, I spaced out for a second. What was the question?» He knew Lorenzo hadn’t bought it, it was written in bold letters, between the lines, but Carlos acknowledged he had decided to let it drop for the moment, and he was, obviously, relieved. «How do you feel about the podium?»

You were stoked. You had rarely ever experienced such a high in your years spent in the most exclusive clubs of Monaco, and you could just feel everything was incredible: the blasting music, the drinks, the company. It was the first time you had joined clubbing with all your brothers together, and it hadn’t gone south as you had always expected to. Deep down, though, you couldn’t fake it was probably due to someone else’s presence getting your family off your mind and preventing you from focusing on anything and anyone.

He was still sitting on the couch, briefly talking to the others, but he always managed to peek at you amongst the crowd. You found the perfect hiding spot for your improvised dancing performance to Carlos behind the back of what seemed to be a guy about your age. It allowed you to momentarily disappear from his sight just enough to keep him searching for you, returning a wicked smile whenever he would small grin at you. «Are you good, mate?» Charles’ giggle alarmed Carlos once again, obliging him to nod at his teammate. «You sure? You seem a little… tense.» The chuckles and the laughter bursting from Charles’ side of the table didn’t please the Spaniard, making him rather confused. «I’m fine, actually.» They both stared at each other, Charles’ eyes sparkling in drunkenness and mischief, still smirking with both dimples on display. «I have a gift for you, Carlos.» Carlos gulped as soon as he saw Charles’ fingers gesturing as to bring something next to the table; the green eyes still fixed on him, Carlos tried to free himself from whatever was to come, reassuring Charles on the fact that if anyone needed gifts, well, that was the winner of the Grand Prix, not the third classified. «But Carlos! You aren’t turning down my gift, are you?» he said. «Because in that case, you know what they say… Never look a gift horse in the mouth, right?» Charles leaned back onto the couch, resting his arm on the top. Carlos tried to throw a last glance at you, not able to find you in the swaying sea of bodies, but as soon as he had turned his head over the dance floor, he had seen the ‘gift’ approaching, and his lips parted in surprise. And disgust. One of the many dancers hired for the VIP room, hanging around and serving tables with little to no clothes on, climbing the small three steps separating the table from the dance floor. «Never look in the mouth, but… you can take a great look at everything else.» Charles smirked wide, enjoying the embarrassment and the amused commotion he had created between his friends. As the woman took a step closer to Carlos knees, he was quick to halt her lascivious moves by standing up, driven by madness at how clearly Charles had planned it only to cause a scene and enjoy how he would entangle away from such a predicament, well knowing he couldn’t act on the rage coursing in his heated blood. Carlos’ mouth went completely dry, despite the drinks he had had in order to forget he was sitting in the lions’ cage and hideously having to socialize with people who despised him as much as he did. To forget that you were the sister of that bratty, annoying, childish prince of Monaco.

Carlos darted his eyes to Charles, fingers clenching into a fist, desperately trying not to give in and offer the reaction everyone awaited as to get him to be kicked out from the club. A shatter of glass interrupted Carlos’ trail of thoughts, making him turn his head to the noise coming from the dance floor. He noticed a waitress’ tray had crashed and wetted the floor, right above the stairs next to their table, as you rushed excuses and apologies to the girl.

Carlos was about to walk down and help you getting out of the embarrassment only to get rid of his own, but he needed no further convincing the moment he saw a pair of hands grab your waist from behind, drawing you close to his body. It was a young guy, the same you had used as a shield in the crowd, who had ultimately turned around and noticed your dancing, mistakenly thinking you were addressing him with those moves and not your boyfriend sat meters away.

«What’s your name, sweetheart?» It had escalated the moment you had tried to reach Carlos both to sneak away from the unrelenting advances and to shoo away the unwanted presence of one of the dancers near your man. «Where do you think you’re going? We haven’t had fun yet!» He had spun you around grabbing your shoulder, quick to press his body onto yours; out of fear, disgust and panic, you had pushed yourself away from him with all your might, tumbling backwards on your heels and hitting the waitress. «Leave me alone!» Carlos needed no more. His eyes renewed with fire, in no time he had reached you and had snatched those foreign, dirty hands away from you. «Are you deaf? Leave.» No matter how loud the music was, you could feel Carlos’ low voice echoing in your chest, vibrations reaching your stomach: you hadn’t been that close to him all night and his sudden presence daunted you all at once. «What? Who are you to tell me what to do?» A couple of friends of the guy backed him up, as Carlos smiled out of utter disbelief and fury. You wrapped his wrist tight, hoping to hold him back in the unknown propositions you knew he might be harboring. «Someone who could get you out of this country in less than two minutes.» You turned around, surprised to see Charles dismiss the jovial and light-hearted grin he had worn all night to put on a devilish smile, his green irises concealing a hint of madness. Carlos had wiggled out of your hold, scared that your brother could notice it, as you both stared at Charles with curiosity and bewilderment. «Maybe three, if you leave immediately and forget to come here for the rest of your life.» he added, looking down at his Richard Mille.

Peeking behind their backs, the ridicule group gulped noticing a group of bodyguards approaching. Charles flashed them back with the smile of someone who has the entire world wrapped around his fingers and manages to win it all. Still, glancing back at you, he felt no power, no control. Lorenzo had approached you and was making sure you were okay, hands grabbing your arms delicately. Carlos, who had stepped in first, didn't allow Lorenzo to take care of you alone, and stood close to you, worry painted in his eyes. And what had Charles done? What had he done for you? He hadn't even noticed you were in danger. He was so focused on himself, on the mischief he had reserved for his teammate. It was the first time you were partying together and he had left you out of his conversations, his laughs, his memories' sharing, to the point you had gone dancing alone to find the company he hadn't given you.

Charles' head started buzzing, mental fog clouding his actions. He stared at you, lost, eyes glinting in drunkenness. «I'll ask Arthur to bring you back home, okay?» Lorenzo said to you. «I'll give her a ride.» Like a magnet, your eyes flew to Carlos right as he spoke. Your brother looked at him with an inquiring look, not sure why Charles' teammate would ever consider himself adequate for the task. «You guys should all stay here and celebrate together.» Carlos smiled. «I was about to leave too.» «Well, then... Thank you, Carlos.» Lorenzo grinned while Charles blinked through the interaction without grasping the meaning, which was brutally revealed as Carlos put his hand on the small of your back and escorted you towards the exit of the VIP room. And you were gone. Again.

>>♥<<

Unbeknownst to you, inside the VIP room you had kept rather quiet, experiencing a moment of down after having drunk that much. After dancing it out and getting your adrenaline levels up with the incident, stepping back into the main floor of Jimmy'z, swamped by the overwhelming heat, you had to get a good grip on Carlos' shoulder not to lose balance. «Hey, are you good?!» Aaaand you fell. Of course. Pouting and whining, you did what Carlos hoped you didn't: throw a drunk tantrum. «I don't want to leave!» He sighed, picking you up from the ground with ease and making sure you'd stand on your own. «Be a good sister and obey your brother, huh?» «I'd only obey... you.» and with your pointer finger on his chest, you smirked at him. «Then let's go home.» «Ughh, you're no fun! I want to stay!» «Is everything okay?» The voice signaled the approaching of Lando, fast enough to take an apprehensive look at you. As soon as Carlos met the Brit’s eyes, a wave of comfort washed over him. «She's drunk and I've been told by her brothers to bring her home...» Lando raised a brow at you suddenly hugging Carlos and complaining in slurred sentences. «But she doesn't want to.» Carlo sighed, defeated. «Need help?» «Yep. Much needed.» «Y/n!» Escorted out of the club by the two of them at your sides, you only remembered getting in the passengers' seat of Carlos' car, while Lando showed him the way to your house from the backseat, with his elbow leaning just above your headrest. Thighs pressed on the luxurious leather of the Ferrari’s seat, you let out a giggle out of nowhere, not sure what was making you happy: your best friend's presence paired up with the love of your life's seemed enough.

>>♥<<

«'Right, let's get you some fresh clothes.» Lan moved quickly towards your wardrobe, knowing exactly where to search for a pair of shorts and a plain bedtime shirt. Carlos, while following his movements, flipped you upwards, since you had fallen onto the bed like a dead weight facing the mattress. «Here!» Lando joined Carlos, staring at you with a sigh. «She can't put them on herself, I guess.» «No, I don't think she can.» «So… how do we do?» Carlos reached for the hem of your top without a second thought, well used to the feeling of your warm skin on his fingers while sliding clothes off of you; spreading wide your rosy cheeks with a smile, you settled for his touches, complying to the well-practiced duet, sure it was the right reward after a night of mutual pining. It seemed like Lando's presence wasn't relevant enough, or at least it didn't cause any second thought on proceeding with the stripping down before his eyes. You raised your arms, teasingly, waiting for Carlos to remove your top, which he did, leaving you only with your bra on and your high-waisted shorts. «Give me the shirt.» Lan handed it to him, furrowed eyebrows, examining carefully Carlos' moves. Smirking, you laced your arms around his neck and strived to leave a kiss on his cheek, but suddenly aware of the Brit’s stare, Carlos gave him a sheepish smile, placing a hand on your back as you didn't unglue yourself from him. «Where’s my goodnight kiss?» Lando, brows knitted and batting eyelashes quickly, examined the careful yet tender smile blooming on Carlos’ lips after your drunk request, followed by the peck he left on your forehead. Melting under the touch, you cuddled back in bed, grinning wide like a child, while the two drivers silently switched off the lights and exited the room.

Firing up the engine, the revving noise of Ferrari’s horsepower covered partially the few words escaping Lando’s lips as a reflex of a realization. «It’s you, isn’t it?» «What?» «You’re her boyfriend. You’re the guy she met in Miami.» The sky had fallen silent, though the streets of Monaco shone and the pavement brimmed with people strolling by in search of fun. Carlos glanced briefly at Lando, who was still staring and expecting an answer; then, gripping the steering wheel, he focused back on the road, unconsciously smiling. «Is it that obvious?» «I mean…» Lan gulped, avoiding gaze. «She was trying to kiss you, what other confirmation do I need?» The smile spread wide, uncontainable at this point, fueled by the memory of the cute and clingy behavior you had shown off in front of both himself and Lando. The ride kept silent for a while, as the Brit studied Carlos’ collected calm concealed under a sweating, hot body, veins in his arms popping out the tanned skin. «She told me you were pretty secretive about it all.» «Well, I didn’t want to rush her into a crazy public relationship full of formalities.» he stopped at a traffic light. «But if you really want to know, I had planned on going public next week.» «It sounds like you won’t.» «Because we can’t.» «Why not?» Lando turned to face him. Carlos gripped the steering wheel harder and stared back at the traffic light. «Charles.» «Charles what?» «Told me to stay away from her.» he accelerated, seeing the green light. «And don’t tell me “Fuck that”, because you know I’m in no position to. I’m sure that if he wanted, he could convince the team to drop me mid-season.» «Well, I see. It sucks.» «Yeah.» Pensive for a few turns of Monaco, Lando was quick to speak up again. «But isn’t love stronger than anything else?» «You can’t make a living out of love and carelessness, you know?» «I’m just saying that… She loves you a lot.» «I do too.» «I think… I think she would give up on Charles, for you.» «I don’t want her to sacrifice anything or anyone for me, let alone her loved ones.» «Need to throw up, after this.»

Carlos had asked you to sleep in his hotel room without too much thought; as a quite established couple, though hiding it, he just wanted to put his arms around you and feel your body heaving by his side, especially on weekends in which the tension upon his shoulder started to take a toll on him. The negotiations with Williams and Audi going south; the relationship with Charles wearing thin; the team starting to gatekeep the car development and excluding him from some technical feedback. Some days he only wanted to take a deep breath in and exhale loudly, in silence, searching for inner peace; he figured it would be easy with your sparkly presence next to him. He hadn’t anticipated seeing the situation affecting you as much. With a hand resting on your stomach, he could feel your heartbeat quicken and your breath being sharp and irregular. Even though you were both supposed to be sound asleep, the room already drowned in darkness, he could tell you were fighting your fears, your imagination running wild in open fields he knew nothing of. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, soothingly, you curled up, to become smaller and smaller, to take less space, and Carlos matched your movements pulling you closer to him.

In the morning, watching you offer him a coffee inside the hospitality with the brightest smile, he’d be left wondering: which vulnerable side you were both trying to show and conceal to his awareness. And when you cuddled in his changing room, he’d be willing to ask and address it but then stopped as you fidgeted with his fingers, delaying the answer, inevitably discouraging him from pursuing the truth. Still, whenever the two of you hid from the world to build a fort of intimacy and love - whichever place you’d find the most fitted to your hot-blooded desires: cramped in his changing room, late night sessions on the desk of the strategy department, making out in the backseat of a media van with tinted windows -, he could read the intense, swamping need of putting worries to sleep, he could taste it on your lips, on your collarbone, and he could sense it in the sweet scent of your hair, an implicit beg for freedom from an unknown chain. Through each breath, in each moan you let out, Carlos could hear faint pleads, a soft voice praying for him not to ask, not to speak, not to remind you, not to ruin the magic of the moment.

Carlos had, indeed, good reasons to think something beneath the surface was unsettling you. You felt it too, during the shared flight with your brothers; and then while stepping foot back again in the land which had brought so much happiness to you and that, still, couldn't swipe away the nasty shadow eating you alive. It followed you, haunted you.

Thursday, 20th June 2024. Written in bold letters on an article about the F1 weekend you were reading, and suddenly the gloom took shape. Seven years. Raising your eyes from the screen of your phone, you glanced at Charles, searching for the same wave of despair and melancholy your heart was overcome by, finding nothing but a light tint of blue under his eyes. Maybe you still had words entangled between your vocal folds yet to be spoken, yelled at him, buried inside your body under the compact soil of time; maybe prejudice had precluded a relationship not so unreachable or despicable as you had always imagined. Because maybe, well disguised by an uncracked mask, you were both harboring the same regret and grief. Or maybe not.

>>♥<<

You walked down the paddock marching to Ferrari’s garage, smile on full display, Charles’ gifted Ray Bans shielding you from judgment as you sported your shirt with the confidence of a star; it was loose enough for you to swim inside of it but still letting the hem of your shorts show beneath it. Ferrari 55 You didn’t miss the friendly smiles of the mechanics and engineers, who had got accustomed to your presence throughout the weeks, at the sight of the bright red merch. Quite pleased with the reaction, you glanced left and right with a single goal in mind, and as you hit it the grin grew wider, mimicking the one Carlos wore on his face. «How do I look?» You twirled around so that he could see better how the cotton draped your silhouette, clearly outlined by his imagination despite the lack of transparency. He had traced your body with his eyes, with his rough hands, with his thoughts way too much not to be obsessed by it, not to remember every single corner of it.

Charles, entering the garage in that same moment with a bit of a rush, since he was running late to the activities established for the day, distractedly took a look in your direction, only to turn his head a second time as he noticed his teammate checking you out with too much familiarity. «What’s going on here?» «Cha’! I was asking Carlos his opinion on my new outfit.» He took a moment to let his eyes scan top to bottom a couple of times, before nostalgically smiling. He had never wanted to see you on track during the kart days because your relationship wasn’t particularly good and he knew you wouldn’t agree anyway. But since F2, since your dad’s condition had started to worsen, since Baku, since his finger raised to show the Je t’aime papa on his rear wing, he had always dreamed of having you support him. He knew he was too old to hide in Pascale’s arms, but craving his little sister’s affection wasn’t as childish. Still, it was way harder to obtain. And having it now, eyes not missing the sunglasses you used as a hairband, so glad you appreciated that gift to the point you wore them that often, felt like that dream was coming true.

«So…What do you think, Carlos?» The Spaniard, a bit surprised by the ball being passed to him immediately, hesitated some more in the staring. «Red looks amazing on you.» «Does it?» you asked, coquettish, turning your shoulder a bit. Enough to show the number on the back. «Yes, it does.» Charles said, anticipating Carlos’ answer. «Now we need to get done with the social media challenge before the briefing. Right, Carlos?» «Yep. I’m coming.» As Charles turned his back to move away, Carlos seized the moment to whisper in your ear. «And my scent fits you amazingly as well…», you smirked in sync. «Did you steal it from my wardrobe?» «Maybe.» «Keep it. I want to rip it off of you tonight.» «Tonight? Thought it’d convince you to find more time for me earlier in the day, but seems like I was wrong…» Knowing you had hit a vulnerable point, you enjoyed Carlos’ hand brushing casually your hip while passing by and pretending to let you go, only to capture you with words. «I’d fuck you right now on the counter next to the helmets.» he paused, licking his ruby lips. «But since you’re trying to rile me up at work, you’ll pay the price by waiting.»

>>♥<<

2 new messages from Lando

[picture] you guys are going public or something?

You smiled staring at the photo Scuderia Ferrari had posted on X: it was a shot taken on the pit area of you with Ferrari merch – in fact, number 55’s one – and Carlos resting his hand on your waist.

> can’t a driver and his teammate’s sister pose together for a pic? they can, but… not being subtle at all here, just saying

>>♥<<

Dining at a table hidden away from Netflix crew and photographers, you chugged down water in large sips. «Did he congratulate you?» Charles smiled. «Think he wished for me to have a mechanical failure like in 2022.» You drank and drank again, hand never letting go of your glass, willing to extinguish the fire – once a mere fever – which had built up in your chest since first hearing your brothers’ words about Carlos.

An infuriating, consuming flame of love. «He pushed me off the track in China… Don't know what he'll do in his home race, starting in front of him.» «If the strategy is to save tyres, the team should ask you to keep the positions in the first stint at least.» Charles snorted at Lorenzo's reasoning. «I'm sure. Can't wait for his mother's comments defending him whatever shit Carlos does on track.» «Can you please stop?» Charles eyed you from across the table a bit surprised, visibly annoyed by the tone and the request. «Stop doing what?» «Talking shit about someone who's not present and whom you don't know a thing about.» Charles almost burst out laughing in front of you, while Lorenzo threw you a confused and alarmed look, warning you about the dangerous territory you had stepped in. «Oh, right, I don't know anything… Then tell me, what do you know about him, uh?» Out of frustration, you stood up abruptly, struggling to form a proper answer. «What I know is that you’re still a fucking child who can’t never, ever accept he’s wrong!» «Guys, tone it down.» Lorenzo said, getting up and approaching you to grab gently your arm. You brushed him off and stormed out of the room, hearing your older brother's steps following close behind you. As you were about to turn around and dismiss him, since you needed no babysitter, Lorenzo spoke the words you had expected him to spit out one month earlier. Only you weren’t expecting to hear them now. «What were you doing in Carlos' room?» You kept facing away from him, not able to move nor to answer. «Why do you keep attending race weekends only to disappear without explanation and avoid Charles and all of us like the plague?» he said, stepping forward. «Did you really think I wouldn't notice?» «Does Charles know?» you asked. «No.» he said. «But if it's serious, you should definitely tell him.» «If?» you turned around to face him. «Are you kidding me? Of course it's serious, indeed, very serious-» «Then you need to talk about it, because this doesn't only involve you but-» «I'm not listening to this bullshit, sorry.» you retreated. «You don't get to tell me how to live my life.»

>>♥<<

Watching them from the pitlane, two red dots moving in the distance, you sensed something was off. Approaching them, dots elongating into silhouettes you so well recognized, you knew something was off. Given the race just disputed – which you had followed from Ferrari’s garage, biting your lips – you kind of expected it to be, but nothing more than a scratch due to adrenaline still running high. Still, you quickly realized how the matter stood different, struggling to catch up with their strides, helmets swinging with force from their hands as they animatedly discussed.

Surprised to see they entered the hospitality instead of walking towards the media pen as expected, you rushed inside, panting from the effort finally compensated, only to be welcomed by yelling now fully unleashed. «WHAT DID YOU FUCKING SAY?!» «CHARLES!» Screaming at the top of your lungs as you saw him tug Carlos’ suit, you tore him away, staring at him both furious and terrified, breathing harshly. «Did you sleep with him?!» «It’s none of your busin-» Carlos spitted out, bitter, enraged at the tone he had addressed you with. «Shut the fuck up!» he barked at Carlos, then looking back at you with fiery eyes. «Tell me you didn’t, y/n.» Your fingers weakened their hold onto Carlos’ suit, as you felt the weight of his own hand on your waist lift off from perception, and your mind suddenly went black. You had lost him, yet another time. Like you had ever had him.

You stood still, arms resting lifeless to your sides, eyes still piercing his. What would he do now? What would he say next? How would he treat you from now on, after discovering that you had sticked with him through weekend races around the globe not to enjoy his company, but to sneak with a teammate he didn’t even like? Would he feel betrayed? Would he feel as lonely as you’d always felt? Would he… hate you? His lack of reaction was the painful delay of the stab you expected in the middle of the chest.

A voice inside of you, from a hidden corner of your disrupted soul, screamed in the deafening silence around you, as your father’s face flashed you awake from that trance: that was the weekend. And those, poking your chest, stinging at the bottom of your lungs, those were the feelings. You gagged. It was inevitable; it had come too quick, too sudden to notice. You had seen the warning sign linger in the unthought thoughts, in the untold truths, ready to slip in any moment. And it did.

When Charles stepped closer, your body jerked backwards, frantic, and you would’ve said it had been out of fear; but as you felt Carlos’ arms wrap your waist with might, you realized your knees had given up on your weight, and that you couldn’t, indeed, breathe. Everything rushed around you: without knowing how, you found yourself sitting on a couch, Charles holding both your hands and talking gibberish you couldn’t follow, a cloud of people dressed in red crowding you two, when Carlos suddenly missing in the blurry picture of your vision almost unblocked the choking clench in your throat and made you cough, before turning into a panting mess. «Can you hear me? What’s wrong, can you breathe?» Charles’ words reached you like a metal screeching noise, not really able to grasp their meaning as you kept gasping and panting; you could only focus on his sweaty, warm fingers tightly gripping yours. In distress, you shook them off, hands trembling like a leaf right after.

Charles, at a loss of words, gulped in terror, letting out a frustrated whine: he could do nothing. «Lorenzo, where is he?» «He’s not here.» Charles whispered, a sad and confused shade in his voice. «I need him, I need… I… Lorenzo…» «Hey, I’m here too…» he spoke soft, inching closer, willing to engulf you in a hug if only you’d let him. He had never been there. Charles had always left you on your own. Things had even managed to get worse, after the death of… You wheezed, bringing your hand near your throat. «Fuck, call the doctors from the medical center here at the track! Come on, go! Quick, for fuck’s sake!» Focusing on the way his expression was shaped into panic and madness, the clench in your throat seemed to loosen just enough to make you sigh, as tears pricked your eyes due to fear. «No, no no no, don’t cry, it’s okay…» Charles was pained by your sobs, adding on top of your erratic breaths, and he placed a hand on your upper arm, hesitant but incapable of preventing it, because he couldn’t stand not being allowed to physically comfort you while you turned in shambles in front of him.

When you felt a hand gently place on your shoulder, you first had the instinct to flinch, but forced yourself not to as a small plastic-coated bag was handed to you from Carlos. «Breathe into the bag.» In and out, tears still running, you watched it expand and crinkle, full and empty, tuning into the rhythm of your heart slowly decreasing, and never letting slip into unawareness Carlos’ warm touch. You dropped down the bag once your breathing had settled back into a constant flow, despite being still hiccupped by sobs. Crushing between Carlos' arms, you gripped him tight. «Please, take me away from here.» you whispered, voice cracking. Charles saw your back caged and shielded by someone else's arms once again; he heard yet another time those same words, ticking inside of him like a bomb. He could still see you dressed in black, hair once combed and then miserably tousled, your frame smaller, seeking refuge in Lorenzo's embrace. Your dad's funeral. The day he realized he had not only lost Hervé, but he had also lost you. Your name slipped off Charles' lips almost inaudible, like a plea, while he got closer and raised his hand to touch you, to beg both permission and forgiveness. Carlos took a step back, drawing you even nearer to his chest to forbid him. «You don't get to touch her after what you said.» Why couldn't he never... «I'll do what you should've done instead.» Love you?

Spielberg 2024

Charles P11. Carlos P3.

Another great performance by the Spanish driver, who granted a podium for Ferrari during his last year in the team.

_____________________

4 new messages from Lando [picture] are you guys for real FINALLY official? ON THE FREAKING F1 ACCOUNT?! > ♥ yesssss

_____________________

Silverstone 2024

Charles P14. Carlos P5.

A solid weekend for Carlos Sainz despite the car being clearly difficult to drive, with great performances in mixed track conditions both in qualifying and in the race.

_____________________

f1 ✔ It seems like Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend y/n Leclerc had a little romantic getaway in London right after the race 🤭

_____________________

3 new messages from Charles we need to talk please call me back when you see this

«Nice try!» «There was a gust of wind…» «Yeah, sure. Keep dreaming of shots like mine.»

I’ve made so many mistakes

«So… Me +5, you +8, right?» «Yep.»

there are so many things that I want to change

«Onto the next hole, then!»

please don’t ignore me

«Ready, babe?»

I’ve missed you so much

«Y/n?» «Uh?» You finally raised your eyes from the screen, getting momentarily blinded by the sun hitting the golf green grass: protected and unbothered on the passenger seat of the golf cart, Carlos was about to follow Lando to the next hole of the course. «Don’t you answer?» «I… No.» «May I know who is it?» You sighed, simply turning the screen of your phone towards Carlos so that he could read the preview of Charles’ flood of texts. As the cart slowly started moving, you stayed silent. «I know you won’t like what I’m about to say, but I think someone should tell you this.» «What?» «It’s your brother, y/n.» You tsked, annoyed, crossing arms and looking on your right side, onto the endless fields of play. «So? Does this give him permission to treat badly both of us? And if anything, you should be mad at him more than I am.» «But I’d never ask you to hate him for me.» You stared at him, as he kept driving. «I know you love him, and I don’t want to see you sad and upset anymore because of anything that happened between me and him.» «It’s not just about you two…» «I know. But from his texts, it seems like he realized he was wrong and is willing to change.» Approaching the new golf hole, Carlos stopped the cart right behind Lando’s. «In four years, if I learned anything about Charles’ character, that’s his perseverance once he has a goal set.» he paused and then looked at you. «If you ignore him today, he’ll keep texting and calling you tomorrow, and the day after, until you give in.» «I don’t want to give in. He always gets what he wants, and I want him to understand I’m not a trophy he can keep on his shelf just because it’s the only one he lacks.» «I think you should hear his reasons anyway. You can always refuse afterwards, if you feel like he’s being superficial about it.»

>>♥<<

Monaco’s street merged with the gray of the liquid asphalt and the pouring column cascading from the plumbeous clouds. There was nothing more disappointing than to be forbidden the breathtaking scenery of the sea glimmering with sunshine splinters, and be left instead to a gray expanse of cold, humid and dampness.

You shook your umbrella, soaked in rain, squeezing it shut as you anticipated it being totally broken after the violent wind gusts blowing from the sea, and you brushed your lucid boots onto the rug, as you would always do. Welcome Home, it said. As soon as your jingling keys touched the small glass plate awaiting them in the hall, Charles was already springing up in front of you, visibly in distress. «Why did it take you so long?» Still struck by the violence of the storm which had welcomed you outside, and dazed by the hurry and urgence of Charles once you had got inside, you didn’t answer. «Did you get wet? Wait, let me get you new clothes.» You followed his erratic figure flinging in your room, opening the closet and scattering it through, in search of anything you might like to wear and change into. «This, it will make you feel warm.» «Cha’, I’m not cold…» «No, this one! This one is good, for sure.» Piling up clothes on the bed as he frenziedly looked through your entire wardrobe, you stood still waiting for him to stop. «Here, let’s change into these.» he said, handing a shirt and some trousers to you. Who… who was that? What had happened to old Charles? The one you’d always known? «C’mon, I don’t want you to get ill!» «You… you need to exit the room.» «Right!» It had never once showed his concerns for you this openly. You figured he had always been too far away from you and not present enough to make his worry evident; and yet you had never even dared dream about such a nurturing and caring brother. At least, you had never expected him to be, once you had fully realized he would never be that brother you so dearly hoped to have.

You sat on the bed, brushing the texture of the shirt he had chosen for you: a softness, a delicacy new-found in his madman behavior. Where from? Out of fear of losing you? Hypocritic. Or maybe just finally acknowledged his mistakes? Carlos’ words echoed in the silence of your bedroom. Listening to him didn’t cost you anything.

«I’m sorry. From how I treated you and Carlos, to how I never once stepped up to improve our relationship even when it was more in my power than in yours to do so.» You lowered your gaze, knowing full well what Charles was referring to and playing every scene, every talk, every fight in your mind like a rerun. «Me and dad barely included Arthur in my driving experience. We thought that there was no point in including you, who were even younger than him, in something you didn’t seem to have a lot of interest in.» «You both decided that for me.» «I know. I know now.» he nodded. «It was a terrible mistake to exclude you from my passion because it indirectly excluded you from my life.» «You weren’t even here when dad was at the hospital.» «Don't you think I know? Don’t you think I’ve suffered for that?» You, inevitably, cried; and he, inevitably, took you in his arms, hugging as strong and tight as he had ever done, as he had wanted to do the day he had come back for the funeral, the moment he had seen you cling onto Lorenzo’s shirt and be cradled by him. It should’ve been me, I should’ve supported you instead, his embrace now screamed. Charles undeniably loved you from the first time he had seen you: a little princess to guide and take care of, to cuddle to sleep when you were still a newborn, to shield from Arthur’s mischief dictated by jealousy from not being the youngest kid anymore. «I missed you.» The crack in his voice, the trembling of his chest upon yours warned you he was crying as well, inside your arms. You couldn’t help but sob louder, and grip his shirt tighter, burying your face in his neck. And yet, he knew that he needed to let that princess grow into a queen and, instead of shielding her from life, support her along the way. «As to Carlos…» he said. «Cha’, I love him, I can’t help it.» you said as he wiped a tear from your cheek. «Please, don't ask me to choose because I won’t.» «Y/n, I’m no one to say what you can and can’t do.» he dropped the tone of his voice. «And I’m definitely not entitled to say whom you can and can’t love.» You stood in shock, elaborating his words. «So…» «So, if Carlos makes you happy, then I support it. I support… you.»

>>♥<<

«So you're good now?» «Thanks to you, yes.» You laid back onto the swim towel, pressing on the sand of Playa de el Cañuelo, staring straight at Carlos who was laying right next to you. «I love the sun here in Spain, gosh…» «Brings back memories, right?» he smirked. «Yeah...» «Why don’t relive them?» In a glimpse, Carlos had grabbed you and you two rolled on the sand, so that you rested on top of him, giggling through the embrace you were now surrounded by. It was as natural as breathing the way you both leaned in to join lips in a messy kiss, smiling and grazing each other’s hot skin, building up steam in such a short amount of time. Dreamy eyes, Carlos placed a strand of your wet hair behind your ear, speaking up again. «I was thinking of buying the villa, so I can stop renting it every month for us to come here.» «Really?» you beamed. «Would you like it?» «I'd love it.» «So then we can expand it and add a second floor, to have space for a playroom for our kids...» «What?» «This will be our holiday villa, once we get married.» Out of excitement, you peppered his face with kisses, secure in the hold of his hands. He then leaned in again, as the tips of your nose brushed on each other’s. «So... Where were we?»

So... First of all, congratulations for making it through! I hope you liked it! Thanks for any feedback - negative, neutral or positive - you'll leave! Wish you all a good day ♥

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[percontaion-points]

5 Survive chapters 3 & 4

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 3

“You aren’t drinking on this trip, are you, Maddy?” Catherine raised her voice to find her daughter off-screen. 

“No, Mom,” Maddy began. “I know—”

 “—You are seventeen, I don’t want to hear from anyone that you’ve been drinking. You can have fun without it.” 

OH GOOD, THEY’RE FUCKING TEENAGERS. I LOVE BOOKS ABOUT UNDERAGED DRINKING. /sarcasm

 But that was okay because Red was thinking about the cartoon Phineas and Ferb; they weren’t a match for the pattern in the curtains, but now the full theme song was running through her head. 

This girl is higher than a fucking kite, and you cannot convince me otherwise. 

But she was saved by Arthur, calling: “Shit, I think we went the wrong way.”

Chapter 3 summary: After failing to reach Maddy, their mother instead calls her other child, Oliver. There isn’t anything of actual importance in her call, but I think the fact that the call was breaking up is probably going to be important later. The tried and true “we have no cell service”; it’s a (modern day) classic! 

Anyway, Oliver and Maddy are siblings. Maddy and Red are both underaged, and Rayna is Oliver’s girlfriend. Maddy was only allowed to go on this trip so long as Oliver and Rayna were with them. How the other two fit into this, I don’t fucking know, nor does the narration bother to explain this to us. However, I’m not quite sure that I actually care that much. 

Throughout the call, Red is struggling with her grief over her own dead mother. However, I think I said as much in the previous chapter: it’s been four years. This isn’t healthy to be this upset over somebody else having a mother after so much time has passed. 

Oliver then starts to explain to us that his mother is a lawyer. Her current case is career-making: she’s literally taking on the mob. Yikes. This goes on for way too much time… to the point where I wonder if the person who’s going to attack the kids isn’t going to be a mob hitman sent to take out the lawyer’s children. 

Anyway, Arthur had taken over navigating for Rayna when Oliver took the call from his mum. But now he announces that he thinks that they took a wrong turn somewhere. 

Chapter 4

“I, um, I told you we were meeting at our house at nine. But I told everyone else we were meeting at ten.” 

“You told me a whole hour earlier?” Red said, and why did it sting that she had? It was a lie, yes, but it was a considerate lie. Maddy knew Red would be late: she didn’t know all the reasons why, but she knew the end result and that was the same, wasn’t it?

Maddy, sweetie. Listen to me. Get away from this toxic shitshow of a person right now. Trust me. I’ve been where you are. Constantly telling people to show up an hour earlier than planned because you KNOW that they’re going to be late.

However long that you’ve been in this so-called friendship with Red… I promise you that it’s not worth it. 

You can’t fix her. 

“I missed the bus,” Red said, which wasn’t true: she spent the last of her change on her dad’s favorite cereal and then walked the whole way, bag wheeling behind her.

The rest of the book is probably going to be Red desperately trying to justify her shitty behaviour. Each one thinner than the last.

I’m seriously starting to see the parallels between Red’s and Maddy’s relationship and my own experiences. 

“Fuck,” Oliver said, staring at Reyna over there on the sunken side, slamming his fist into the dashboard. “I think we just punctured a tire.”

Chapter 4 summary: It’s basically 5 pages of “I don’t have a signal. Do you have cell service?” Even the GPS isn’t working… Which… SIGH. I’m not going to get into how GPS is running off of completely different stuff than your phone, but whatever. 

There is a brief interlude in which Maddy is like “We know that you’re a fucking shitty person, so that’s why we told you to show up an hour earlier than everybody else!” Red’s excuse is that… she’s so bad with her money that she didn’t have any left to take the bus. She’s supposed to be the main character, but I’m seriously rooting for her to be the one who doesn’t survive. She’s so fucking terrible, and I hate her. 

Anyway, we set that aside for more yelling directions to poor Raquiza. This goes on without any sort of point for way too long before they realise that they’re somehow even more lost. Then they realise that one of the tyres was punctured by something, so now they’re stuck. 

[turtle-ly]

Do you have any recs for ongoing catradora fics?

asdfghjkl yes? i was about to ask you why would you want them but then i remember other ppl are not cursed like me, since one: most rec'd ongoing fics i've seen are never completed, and two: i think im cursed. My subscriptions page is a place where fics went in and almost never make it out 😔 thus i've become a lil wary of them and also less likely to subscribe even when im following it. But bc i love y'all, im gonna put a * after fics i think have little chance of updating, read them at your own risk <3

1. (an example of) the perfect candidate(*) by brightbolt, imperfectlyctor, i've read about 3 or 4 magicatra fics and most of them are oneshot, but this one is just SO promising. the sword chose catra but when had life really chosen her? shera abilities dont come easily and catra has to struggle with that. meanwhile, horde!adora has her own set of traumas and problems.

2. A Blinding Embrace(*) by Mshpiece, Tl;dr Adora's so emotionally gay she habitually turns into She-Ra when her canonical gf Catra kisses her, let's ride the hype of post s5 fluff fics babes

3. a white blank page (to write our happy ending)(*) by scarletite, hnnng im a whore for these canon divergence, catra and adora ran away from the horde on their own and got adopted by george&lance and then all of etheria, tbh it hasnt got to the etheria bit but man if this isnt my greatest hc. #LetThemHaveAFoundFamily2k21, i think about this at least thrice a month

4. a white veil occasion by aswellingstorm, technically it only has one more chapter but bc i love it and i want y'all to have nice things, read it. catra and adora meet again after being separated in the orphanage, in this one catra is basically adopted by mara&light hope (damn have i told you how much i like this hc) and is so emotionally mature, i am so proud of her <3

5. all my glory days are yours(*) by rosebudryot, author!adora and actress!catra, adora's novel got adapted to a movie and catra's the main actor :) they dont have a we-know-eachother backstory in it but im thrilled to watch this relationship grows

6. and i bloom right into you by yangaf, yea y'all know this one, famous soccer player adora and sorority catra, they met by being thirsty for eachother at uni

7. be unbroken or be brave again by RestlessWanderings, beast island au my beloved, scorpia has reasons to believe hordak killed catra and starts a resistance (homegirl i love you), and oh the grief, the all consuming grief of her and adora and everyone catra thought would never care, and the rage, how adora vows to kill hordak with her bare hands not in the name of etheria nor the rebellion (familiar? and thats before s3 even came out) i reread the whole fic to hype for the new chapter back in august and now im insane for it again

8. crowded table by themoonsneverseenmebefore, how gay are you on a scale of 1 to fixing up a house with your ex gf who you’re still in love with :)c pwease author there's only one more chapter left i believe in u, they both inherited Razz's house and are having a grand time <3

9. fickle game by emollience, friends with benefits but there's so much feelings bc how could they not? girls can you please have a clear and straightforward conversation, it's been 9 chapter

10. Knocked Flat by Levellsof, catra loses her memory in battle, she wakes up in brightmoon and they have to navigate their relationship while catra goes on treatment, does she want to remember and should she?

11. laughing till our ribs get tough (that will never be enough) by the wanderer (a_sentimental_man), Catra and Adora are soulmates who can share their thoughts and feelings with each other. It goes as well as can be expected

12. Let Forever Mean Forever (Work) by fruitsandpeachies, the second part of a series!, i love the first part where they got stuck in razz's house 1000 years in the past, and now they are back in brightmoon, a world where they can start again, no matter how rocky it might be (im not telling more bc spoilers but you should read the 1st part first!)

13. my immortal by lunchables, adora is the last chance of saving eternia, a closed off kingdom that's on the brink of extinction, and catra seems to be a ghost tied to her to the confusion of both

14. peripheries by ethiobird, catradora through other character POV, very interesting and sort of a character study in each chapter

15. pure and high affection by tox09, hehe princess and knight au go brrrr, catra's the princess and they are so gay, that's it

16. Protecting Hope by stealyourfood, gods and goddesses! damn catra looks like the only one normal in here, or does she?

17. somebody to love by chasingcrowns, i am. waiting for it to complete before continue reading okay. but i was interested since chapter 1 and you should too

20. Sound of Silence by BrightYellowBumblebee, She-ra but featuring deaf!Adora (with a She-ra caveat) and supportive!Catra and also supportive!everyone except for SW >:(

21. sweet to tongue and sound to eye by advancingambition, barking and growling and hollering, this brand of 'post s5 and adora is def not human' is MY jam. The First Ones were fair folk, and Adora is no exception, catra's still smitten tho

22. Take Me Into Your Wild Heart by V3NU5_R0S3, Catra had run away from the Horde, leaving Adora behind. The Whispering Woods guide her to the library, where she's adopted into George & Lance's family (g&l my beloveds). she and adora meet again after 5 years and im Waiting for it

23. the ghost of you by emollience, yes, another canon divergence. Adora stays with Light Hope after s1e11. years later, she goes out and is prepared , which means how could she not become someone entirely different? this is a rewrite of an old fic and i can smell from here how angstier it's gonna be

24. till our lonely limbs collide by driluth, i think there's something between me and cd fics, probably lust. A canon divergent AU where Adora chooses to stay in the portal and Angella lets her.

25. for Having Wept in the Darkness, a series by Lycaonpictus77, canon divergence, ...i have no excuse for this. things could have gone as it had been post s2 but BAM, time travel catra says no and decides catradora should be gay much sooner, adora still hasnt got the hint :/ girl why

Anyway y'all should combine brainwave and send telepathic wave that makes authors update with me :) pwease dont let my bad karma got in the way of this

[scpeen-l0l]

Hi! I was wondering if your could do a scp-035 x scientist!reader fix where the they’re in the middle an interview, and a containment breach suddenly happens

ahhh, i’m not entirely sure if this is what you had in mind. but anyways, thank you so much for requesting!! you’re the first on this blog and while writing this i got another! man i’m so happy ahah

(i forgot to tag this when it was first posted lol)

---

1.5k words

‘easy prey’

You’ve always had mixed feelings on 035. Since the very first day you were assigned to them, you felt their infamous ‘lure’ that they were known to have. Despite that, you liked to think of yourself as resilient, so you were able to just bury yourself in work and deny any sort of weird attraction you had to the mask. Of course, 035 had picked up on the behavior that they had seen countless times in the past, much to your dismay.

Your supervisor told you that you would be interviewing 035 with the routine set of questions in a few days’ time. When you queried as politely as possible to why you were assigned to interview them this time over the usual interviewer, your supervisor handed you a page of the transcript of their most recent interview, with a section highlighted in yellow.

 //PAGE 2//

08/08/██

SCP#: SCP-035

Class: Keter

Interviewer: Warren, [REDACTED] (Sr. Researcher)

  SCP-035: Mhm… Hey, what are the odds of that new researcher coming into my cell anytime soon?

[Dr. Warren pauses for a moment, before looking at their host’s hands.]

Warren: Which one? Dr. L/n or Dr. Ahmad?

SCP-035: The younger one. Yes, I’d like to have a chat.

Warren: Why?

[SCP-035 throws its head back before resting its chin on its intertwined hands.]

SCP-035: Since when have you started recruiting people that young? I simply want to ask them about it.

Warren: Stop it, 035. Be more specific.

[SCP-035 lets out an exaggerated sigh]

SCP-035: Why can’t a mask just have a regular talk with a researcher? All I want is a friendly chat! Besides, you’d get some free time whilst we’re busy…

Warren: If we do allow you to converse, you will only be allowed 30 minutes maximum with routine questions.

[SCP-035 laughs]

SCP-035: That’d be grand. Well, what’s on your mind today?

  Your heart was beating out of your chest, fear coursing through your body. Your supervisor coughed to get your attention, to which you could only nod your head slowly to, it wasn’t like you really had a choice. Still, what did it want from you?

You didn’t get much sleep that night, to say the least.

 When the fabled day finally arrived, you were an absolute wreck. All of your confidence flew out the window and left you with sweaty palms and a looming feeling of dread. The walk to the mask’s cell was long and unnerving, the adrenaline was putting you on edge. You weren’t usually like this, but your fears got the best of you. What if they convinced you to wear them? What then? Regardless, you’d be dead either way. You cursed yourself for being a nervous wreck at the worst time, so you headed to the closest empty room you could find.

You found yourself in a break room after a few minutes of searching, the missioning around the facility already clearing out your mind. You rubbed your temples, psyching yourself up. If you did eventually become a host for the mask, you sure as hell weren’t going to make it easy. With a small pep in your step, you finally approached the area containing 035.

Warren was talking with your supervisor, just about to leave when he saw you walk in. A forced smile made its way to his face as he approached you.

“Pleasure formally meeting you, L/n.”

��Same here. Do you have a spare copy- “

Warren handed you a file, “here, make sure to stay on topic as much as possible. Oh, and the second you feel like putting him on or anything of the sort, press the panic button next to the microphone on the table.”

Him?

You nodded, reassured that you had a sure-fire way to get out. “Thanks. Do I… go in now?”

Warren turned to your supervisor, Dr. Patel, whom only nodded in response. Dry, as always. You sucked in a deep breath before checking your phone for the time, 9am on the dot. A good time to die, you thought, before a guard ushered you into 035’s cell. A male D-Class with 035 on his face looked to you and tilted his head.

You knew you didn’t look the most assertive, or dominant but you were resilient. That’s all you had going into that interview, you told yourself.

Sitting down and laying out the documents inside the file on the table, you looked back at the group of staff behind you. McAllistor, the technician, gave you a comforting smile; Warren was already out the door; Dr. Ahmad looked away awkwardly; Dr. Patel was typing away on his computer and you could see the side of a guard’s visor at the corner of the observation window. Huh, a little understaffed today. Were they the last people you’d ever see? Perhaps. Alas, you had a job to do, and you were going to do it damn well, if it was the last thing you ever did.

  //RECORDING STARTED//

L/n: Hello, 035. Ready to start?

SCP-035: Of course.

 Ooh, that voice- Did it always sound so… Smooth?

 L/n: Well, let’s get through these questions quickly.

SCP-035: Aw, I was hoping to get to know you a little better first.

L/n: Maybe another time. How would you describe your emotions today?

 Deflect, deflect.

 SCP-035: Admittedly, a little upset that you’re being so stiff with me. I rarely speak to anyone else other than [REDACTED], who’s gone off who-knows-where. Ooh, probably with his assistant- You wanna hear about that?

L/n: Uh, so you feel upset that you can’t speak with me-

 Shit. That threw you off.

SCP-035: Indeed, would you help me with that? Pretty please? You look like you need a break, you know. Look at those bags under your eyes!

 No, you weren’t going to let him get under your skin that easily.

 L/n: Apologies, 035, if my appearance is sub-par— However, I am incredibly committed to my job and I-

SCP-035: Blah, blah. Cut the canned crap. You can speak to me about it, you know, I’m a great listener.

L/n: I will be the one listening today, 035. Now-

SCP-035: You say-

L/n: 035! Stop speaking over me, unless you want this interview to be terminated?

 Assertive, dominant.

 SCP-035: Ah, of course not. I was out of line, I am sincerely sorry, dear.

L/n: It’s- It’s fine, where were we? Oh, here, I- Um…

 Nevermind. How did he manage to make you feel bad? Stupid mask, getting in your head…

 L/n: Uh, how would you describe your intentions as of late?

SCP-035: Nothing dangerous, I simply long for the stage, you know? I just miss the atmosphere! The joy! Oh, what I would do to even just watch another showing…

L/n: Thank you for not evading that question, 035. But, ah, I’m sure if you behave you’d get to-

//CONNECTION LOST//

  The breach alarms went off, making you jump out of your seat. Looking back to the observation window, you saw all the scientists being escorted out of the room by the guards. You rushed to the door…

Locked.

Slowly turning back to 035, you gave him the dirtiest glare that you could muster.

 “Unlock it. Now.”

“You know, I liked the more quiet, sweet, meek version of you-“

You mockingly mimicked his tone, “you know, I don’t give a shit. I’m not putting you on. You’ve already got a host, just leave me alone!”

“Oh, but you’re so intelligent, so innocent… Face it, you’re dead either way. There’s no way you’re making it out alive, I’ll be merciful and make it painless. Wear me, and I’ll ensure that your body gets some good mileage.”

 A small part of you was tempted to take his offer, but the rest of you was only willing to admit he was right. What chance did you have without an armed guard? You slouched, fear settling in.

“Come on…”

You felt a weight on your right shoulder. You could see his hand in the corner of your vision, but, it was cold. Long dead. You didn’t want that for yourself.

Aggressively sliding your keycard in the scanner, you bolted out the cell and grabbed the handgun on the desk.

 You let out a humourless laugh, “yeah, no. I think I’m fine.”

035 walked out his cell, scoffing as he looked at the gun in your hands, “what’s that gonna do? Is that peashooter gonna scare 106 away, huh? How many bullets are in that thing, if any?”

Biting your lip, you whined, “ahah, um, yeah… Look,” you debated internally whether you should try bargaining with this thing, “I’m not going to put you on, however, I’m willing to… cooperate in order for us to reach our separate goals. I have a level 3 keycard, which I can hand to you once I find the safety shelter. Try anything funny and I’m snapping the keycard in half.”

 035 laughed, “ok, maybe I was wrong about tough and cold L/n. Sure, we can work together, but good luck trying to resist me. I can tell you’re already a bit enchanted already!”

You snorted, “yeah, yeah. Suuuuure… Alright, you promise to keep me safe whilst I navigate through the site?”

“I assure you.”

 A part of you felt fuzzy. Damn, he was right about you already being charmed by him. Maybe… No, you weren’t going to give in. You’re using him as much as he’s using you. Right?

 “Guess I was wrong about you being an easy host.” He mumbled.

“You what?”

[coldmilkcreamery]

lux in tenebris

~ 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 ~

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: jung jaehyun x male reader 🌹🥀

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 4182

𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: set in the 1960’s, your relationship with Jaehyun blooms as you navigate a time when homosexuality is unacceptable.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝘀: hinted homophobia (but never shown)

𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗯𝘆 🌙

𝗮/𝗻: because valentines is jaehyun’s birthday !! hbd to my first bias <3 this story is so so fluffy, which is so unusual for me because i’m an angsty writer 🥴 also, i thought of this story while listening to ‘put your head on my shoulder’ !! every time i would write a part, i would listen to it <3 this is the longest story i’ve written, surpassing memories (which is also a jaehyun one btw, i think this unintentionally proves my dedication to him) !! i hope u guys like this because i’ve worked the hardest on this 🥺 happy valentines everyone ! <3

> 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 <

-

(some time in the 1960s~)

-

Everybody thought they were friends. The class-skipping, the after-school hangouts, the dinners at Anka’s Diner—everybody thought they were friends. And truly, they were.

But is that really all they were?

-

“So…” Jaehyun asks as they walk down the halls of Neo High, “Anyone approach for Valentine’s yet? I bet you’ve gotten more than three people to ask you out by now.”

Y/N chuckles, lightly shoving Jaehyun as the latter chuckles as well. “Man, stop it. No one asked me out. And who are you to say that? Star athlete, 6 pack abs, Jaehyun of the Neos, I'd say… 6 girls?”

“7, actually.” They both giggle as Jaehyun continues, “But… I shot all of them down.”

They both near Y/N’s locker, Jaehyun leaning on the ones beside as the former opens his and gets some books out. “Why? 7 girls… neat.”

“I have my eyes on someone else.” Jaehyun says, looking up, blushing at the ceiling, glad that Y/N’s locker door is obstructing the latter’s view of his face.

“Lucky girl.” Y/N says, nonchalantly as he closes the door to his locker. “She’ll say yes, don’t worry.”

“Sure hope they do. So… I'm guessing you're still on the make? You know, looking for a date?” Jaehyun says curiously, unknowingly hoping for a certain answer.

“I told you no one asked me out. And honestly, I’m fine with that. It's a Saturday on the 14th—maybe I should just stay home and listen to the radio.”

“Aww. That's fine little man.” Jaehyun says as they begin their trek towards their classes. “Maybe you could go out with me…” His voice softens, not wanting to alert those around them, “If you can't find anyone.”

Y/N chortles, smacking Jaehyun on the shoulder once again, “Kinda gay ain't it?”

“Nothing wrong with it.”

“You think the people around us’ll say the same?”

Jaehyun hums in acknowledgement as he fixes his tie, replying, “Okay then. Well, see ya’ later alligator.”

Y/N smiles as he sends the boy a wink, entering his classroom as the latter walks to his.

-

They both knew it. It was mutual knowledge. But unspoken. It was unspoken knowledge. The sly touches, the flirting—they both knew it.

But neither have made a real move yet.

-

“If you had one thing you could do right now, without being interrupted—without any distractions,” Jaehyun says, lying down on Y/N’s bed, throwing a baseball up in the air as he asks, “what would it be?”

“Hm.” Y/N ponders, pausing the movement of his pencil over the créme sheet of paper, placing it down. “Maybe…” he looks out the window, observing the orange to black ombré, “Moongazing. I just love the moon. The stars too.”

“You always talk about the moon.” Jaehyun stops throwing the white ball knitted with red fabric, catching it on one hand as he sits up. “What’s so bewitching about it anyway?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N continues writing, the graphite marking the pages as it produces the only sound in the room apart from their voices. “It’s… calming. Not to mention, the twinkling stars look pretty too.”

“Twinkle twinkle little star…” Jaehyun sings softly as Y/N chuckles, throwing a pillow at the former.

“If you don’t believe me—”

“I do. I’ll take you for your word.” Jaehyun replies almost instantly. “I always do.”

“Neat. Now flake off. The sun is setting. You live three streets away, and I don't want you walking in the dark alone.” Y/N gets up from his seat at the window, turning to face Jaehyun.

“Walk me home then.” Jaehyun replies, a smirk on his face.

“That would mean I would be the one walking home alone in the dark, you dork.”

“Alright, alright.” Jaehyun replies, getting up from Y/N’s bed to give him a long, warm hug. Their bodies separate as Jaehyun blows Y/N a kiss, walking out the bedroom door, getting a snort in return.

The marmalade sun hides itself on the horizon as Y/N looks out the window, waving to Jaehyun as the latter walks out their front yard, beginning his journey home.

Oh God, was he falling.

-

It was getting increasingly difficult to resist. The sneaky flirts, the clever comebacks—it was getting increasingly difficult to resist.

And maybe he should stop doing so.

-

“Baby~” Jaehyun sneaks up on Y/N, whispering the words as the latter stiffens in surprise before smacking him lightly in the face.

“Dude. You gotta stop saying shit like that.” The boy sitting on his assigned chair replies, looking up at Jaehyun who is now seated on his desk. “Why are you here anyways? Don’t you have class soon?”

“You do.” Jaehyun replies, pointing at Y/N before pointing at himself, “I don’t. My first subject isn’t ‘till 9.”

“Hm.” Y/N mumbles as he looks back down on the sheet of paper with two unanswered math problems waiting to be solved. “Well, I forgot to complete this last night because I was too pre-occupied with English, and there’s five minutes left ‘till my class starts so I really gotta finish this.”

“Maybe you don’t.” Jaehyun replies, a plan already devising itself in his mind. “Do you maybe wanna… go to the park?”

Y/N looks up, a smirk forming on his face as he observes the same smirk on Jaehyun’s. They hold a stare for about five seconds before Y/N shoves the gray sheet of paper into his backpack, not caring if it was getting crumpled. In laughing fits, both boys run out the hall and eventually out the school too. Slowing down from their marathon-like sprint, they don't notice that they have their fingers interlocked. Y/N realizing this, he quickly untangles them as he straightens his uniform, Jaehyun unconsciously bummed out.

“Well,” Y/N says, looking up at Jaehyun who was already staring at him, “lead the way, my good sir.”

Jaehyun bows as he jokes, “Why of course, Milady. I’ll have you back in school by 9, just in time for your second subject.”

Both giggle as they skip to the grassy park, unknowingly spending the whole day out of school.

-

Maybe it was something in the air. Something they inhaled, passing their airways as it made its way to their heart, freeing them from their icy restraints. Maybe it was something in the air—or maybe something in the grass. But it made them both come out of their shells.

What took that damned O₂ so long to enter their lungs?

-

“Oh shit.” Y/N realizes halfway through fawning about a low-graphic, black and white but new cartoon that had just come out. He looks down on his right wrist as he scoffs. “You said you’d get me back in school by 9.” He says, annoyed, looking up at Jaehyun, “It’s 9:05”.

Jaehyun chuckles innocently, planting his palm on the back of your shoulder. “Well… if people see us here in the park when we’re supposed to be in class… we’ll get detention for skipping.” He says, matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, totally didn't know that, Jae.” Y/N says, facetiously.

“Well… we could go to the movies? Or the fair…” Jaehyun brings his lips closer to Y/N ears as he whispers convincingly, “Or both.”

The flustered pulls away, hands pushing Jaehyun towards the opposite direction. “Fine. But I didn't bring my wallet today.”

“What do you want me to do about that?” Jaehyun replies, a look of sarcasm cascading his face. Y/N rolls his eyes before staring straight into Jaehyun’s, cracking his knuckles. Before he could get a word out, Jaehyun already surrenders. “Okay, okay! Calm down dude.” He chuckles. “But on one condition.”

“I’m listening.” Y/N replies, crossing his legs.

“Be my Valentine. For tomorrow.”

“W-”

“Dude, you don't have a valentine, I don't have a valentine—”

“Because you turned them all down!”

“Okay fair enough.” Jaehyun admits, “But it's not like I can ask them out again, it would be too humiliating for big ole’ Jae, wouldn't it?” He pouts, sticking his bottom lip out as he stares into Y/N’s eyes.

Y/N contemplates, sighing after a minute as he replies, “Fine.”

Jaehyun jumps in glee as he cheers, acting like a kid whose parents agreed to buy them ice cream.

“Just take me to the movies already.” Y/N sighs yet again, scratching his head as the taller calms down, bowing facetiously.

“Of course, Milady.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

-

The popcorn was exceptional. Splendid indeed. The pop of flavor just made everything fall into place. The popcorn was exceptional—maybe that’s why Jaehyun held the bag so cautiously.

And soon enough, that won’t be the only thing he’ll be holding—and eating, too.

-

“Mmmh.” Jaehyun moans as he sips his pop, taking a handful of popcorn right after.

“Dude, stop! We haven't even gotten in the theater yet and you're already devouring everything.” Y/N whines, upset. “By the time the movie starts, we’ll have nothing!”

“Chill,” Jaehyun replies, taking one last sip from his straw before he smiles at Y/N, “we can just buy another one.”

“You’re just wasting money.” Y/N groans, not wanting Jaehyun to spend any more.

“Okay, okay.” He replies, sealing his popcorn as they wait to be let in the theater.

-

Was it the popcorn in the theater? Something that gave Jaehyun the courage. Because Jaehyun had not been this bold 6 months ago. Was it the popcorn in the theater—or was it the soda pop?

It didn't matter. What he was going to do with his newly-found virtue did.

-

In the darkness, the mono-colored movie played as the bag of popcorn was set in between the boys.

“Remind me why we decided to watch a romance movie again?” Y/N brings his lips closer to Jaehyun’s ears as he whispers, not wanting to disturb the rest.

“People say it’s a good movie.”

“They both die.”

Jaehyun peels his eyes away from the screen to stare at Y/N, a look of disbelief washing over his face. “You just spoiled the movie for me.”

“Everybody knows the story of Romeo and Juliet.” Y/N replies, rolling his eyes.

“Well, I don’t.” Jaehyun whispers, looking back at the projected movie, correcting himself, “Didn’t. I guess I do now.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t know though.” Y/N remarks, grabbing popcorn from their shared bucket, staring at the movie playing.

“Now I do, and…” Jaehyun looks at Y/N once again, his cheeks burning as he braves and says, “I guess it’s a good thing we’ll both be Romeos tomorrow.”

Y/N lightly chuckles, trying to ignore what Jaehyun had just said, keeping his eyes glued to the movie.

Unsatisfied with Y/N’s reaction, Jaehyun slips his fingers past the bucket of popcorn and onto Y/N’s, resting on the armrest. With the sudden weight and warmth on his hand, Y/N tenses—but doesn’t look at Jaehyun. Rather, he watches the movie intently, silently hoping he doesn’t give in.

Jaehyun leans closer to Y/N, lips right next to his ears as he whispers, “I’m cold.”

And he gives in.

Their fingers interlock in the dark of the theater, the sounds of dialogue from the movie filling the enclosed space up. No one can see them—it’ll be alright.

-

Jaehyun always found rings cute. A cheese ring, a metal ring, the ring around Saturn. Jaehyun always found rings cute,

But his greatest wish was to put a diamond one around Y/N’s finger.

-

“This is a scam.” Y/N retorts, hands crossed. He stares at Jaehyun as they stand in line for a hoop game on the board walk’s carnival, a few minutes after their exit from the theater.

“There’s no harm in trying.” Jaehyun replies, his eyes on the prize—a teddy bear the size of a toddler.

“That’s like saying ‘There’s no harm in getting scammed’, Jae.”

“Well,” Jaehyun cheekily replies, smirking as he blurts, “there’s no harm in getting scammed for you.”

Y/N looks at Jaehyun in disbelief as the flirt grabs 3 round hoops, preparing to land them on the moving bottles. Much like Y/N’s prediction, the first hoop falls too early and too far from the bottles, the second slides off after nearing and the third one flies too far and hits the stall owner. Jaehyun cringes as the owner painfully smirks, the feeling of victory of scamming another customer engulfing the latter’s mind, accompanied by the feeling of pain from the metal object recently hurled at his stomach.

“At least we have consolation candy?” Jaehyun’s face agonizes, embarrassment taking over.

“At least we have consolation candy.” Y/N repeats, grabbing a handful as he smiles at the owner and makes a 180°, leaving the booth. Jaehyun follows behind, hands in his pocket as he looks around the fair.

“Oooh,” Jaehyun interests, “What about that one?” He says, pointing at the game with a man in his 20’s trapped inside a container with water below, fate depending on his partner’s aim at the target.

“How about no?” Y/N replies, chuckling shortly after, “If you like water so much…

how do you feel about the beach?”

-

Tonight was the night. It wasn’t the 14th—it was the day before. But Jaehyun was more than confident enough to make a move. Tonight was the night—and nothing could go wrong.

Or so he hopes.

-

The tangerine sun meets the navy water once again, its center resting at the edge of the coast. Both boys walk down the beach, hands in pockets as they keep their feelings in.

“Pretty isn’t it?” Jaehyun perks up as he stares at Y/N breaking the silence. “The sun setting.” Jaehyun nods as Y/N continues. “It’s a shame that it’s disappearing soon. Give it a few minutes more and there won’t be a trace of orange on the sky.”

“It’s just how it is.” Jaehyun replies.

“Exactly.” Y/N gleams, the wind blowing on his shirt. “As much as I love seeing the sun, and as much as I hate seeing it go, I see it as a good thing too.”

“What do you mean?” Jaehyun replies, sparkles in his eyes as he stares at Y/N, only the calm waters and the sun’s secant behind him.

“I see it as, ‘if you love something, you have to let something else go’, or something of the sort.” Y/N chuckles, his hands still in his pockets, “I love the sun so much, but if it means seeing the night sky again, I’d give it up every single day, every single time, every single chance I get.”

“You must love the moon and stars so much, huh.” Jaehyun awes as his skin glows under the dying sun’s radiating tint.

Y/N nods as both boys settle down on a spot by the ocean, watching the sun submerge, darker and bluer hues taking over the early evening sky. They sit there for a few minutes, staring at the ocean waves, thinking about their current situation. As they contemplate, the sky has completely changed, from warm hues into cooler and darker ones, the moon showing itself first.

“There you go.” Jaehyun chuckles, laying his back on the sand as he points up, “Your favorite.”

Y/N follows the direction Jaehyun’s finger is pointing at as he looks up at the indigo atmosphere, a faint, glowing crescent standing out. He beams as he appreciates the moon’s presence, basking in it. “Thank you for today, Jae.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t forget about tomorrow okay?”

Y/N nods as he gets up, dusting his shorts off from the sand. The other gets up as well, doing the same as Y/N watches.

Just as the latter is about to leave, Jaehyun speaks up. “Wait!” Y/N faces him once again, a sparkle on his eyes as he wonders why he was called back. “I— I have something to say.” Jaehyun shivers, clenching his fists as he breathes in and out, preparing himself for his own confession. “For the longest time I’ve— I’ve looked up to you and I just wanna say,” Y/N raises his eyebrows, the sound of waves crashing onto the beach filling his ears, “I like you.”

‘I like you’. The words ring in Y/N ears, the syllables painting his eardrums with love. It seems great at first but then he remembers—the predjudice, the shame, the disgrace, the dishonor—and doubles back. “Y-you can’t.”

“Yes, I can.” Jaehyun says as he inches closer to Y/N, his hand grazing the latter’s cheek as he pulls closer. Their lips touch under the moonlight, the stars and benthics as their witness. The taste of strawberry fills Y/N’s taste buds, the savory flavor of intimacy filling his mouth. With the doting feeling of passion engulfing Y/N’s body, he kisses back. They move in sync for a few seconds until Jaehyun pulls away, the feeling of endearment filling his mind as he registers that he had just kissed Y/N—the one he's been pining for for the past few years. Of course, that feeling isn't long-lasting as he notices Y/N take a step back, fear in the latter’s eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun questions, his words coming out as a mere whisper. Y/N doesn't reply as he takes more steps back, mortified. Jaehyun reaches his hand out—and that’s all it takes to send Y/N running.

He sprints the opposite direction, ignoring Jaehyun’s shouts behind him. Adrenaline rushes through his veins as his shoes hit the sand continuously, fear and disappointment fueling his run.

Jaehyun is left alone, under the moonlit beach, and instead of hearing his beloved’s voice, only the sound of waves fill his ears, sending him into full regret.

-

Was it like water? Sometimes everything would be blithe—calm, tranquil water, their insouciant selves enjoying the world. But sometimes it would be erratic too—the unpredictable waves engulfing them and their relationship. Was it like water—their love for one another?

Jaehyun just hopes it wouldn’t dry up.

-

“Thought I’d find you up here.” Jaehyun mutters as he closes the rooftop door, making a sound as it closes again. It’s been a few hours since the beach incident, the moon already glowing brighter. “Look, I’m sorry for kiss–”

“Don’t be.” Y/N replies, keeping his voice as stern as possible, despite already being on the verge of tears. “It was great, I just,” Y/N pauses, takes in the night sky’s view for the last time before he breaks down, and plants his eyes on Jaehyun, still by the rooftop door. “Don’t you think this is wrong?”

“What is?” Jaehyun replies, already knowing the answer he would receive.

“This.” Y/N replies, whining dejectedly as he gets up from his sitting position, facing Jaehyun. “This is. We’re both guys, we shouldn't be flirting, let alone kissing!”

“Why does it matter?” Jaehyun questions, stepping forward as he tries his best to keep his tears in.

“It just does Jaehyun!” Y/N yells back, the exact opposite of Jaehyun’s hushed tone, his voice echoing out into the night sky. “It just does.” He repeats, tears pooling on the corner of his eyes.

“If it does, then…” Jaehyun steps back, the feeling of woe engulfing him, “you never liked me the same way I like you.”

“No!” Y/N replies almost immediately, a tear already slipping out, painting his right cheek, “I, I like you Jae, I like you so fucking much. Every single moment we’ve had, every single moment we’ve shared—I relish every bit of it. I can’t stop liking you—I’ll never stop liking you. But,” Y/N pauses, “I’m scared.”

Jaehyun steps closer to Y/N, pulling him into his embrace as the latter cries out onto his shoulder, tears staining his t-shirt, “Don’t be.”

“But I am.” Y/N replies, sniffing as he tightens his grip on Jaehyun’s body. “I’m scared of everything—What if people talk bad about us, behind our backs? What if our parents kick us out? What if we get expelled? What if—”

“Shh.” Jaehyun shushes, his hand rubbing Y/N’s back slowly, the strokes calming the latter down. “Stop thinking about the ‘what ifs’, just focus on me.”

“I’m sorry, I know I overthink a lot.” Y/N mumbles, pulling away from their embrace as he looks Jaehyun in the eyes, the moonlight shining on them. “I’m just… scared of the darkness that awaits, you know?”

“I get you.” Jaehyun replies as he stares at Y/N, melancholic. “And I’ll do whatever it takes, okay? I’ll be your candle, your shining light, anything that’ll get you through the darkness.”

“Thanks.” Y/N chuckles, looking down, noticing the sand still on Jaehyun’s shoes. “But that still doesn’t change what people would think about…” He points to Jaehyun, then at himself, repeatedly, “this.”

Jaehyun hums as he guides Y/N to the ledge of the rooftop, sitting both him and himself down as they stare out onto the deserted school field below. “Remember what you said about the sun, just a few hours ago when we were down at the beach?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I’d give it all up. All of it. My status, my family, my friends—all of it…” Jaehyun says, peeling his eyes off the dark field below them and locking them with Y/N’s, passion fueling his words, “if it meant I could be with you. Because as much as I love them, if it means seeing you in my arms, I’d give them all up every single day, every single time, every single chance I get.”

Y/N forces a sob in, trying his best not to break down. “But why?” He replies, feeling tears pool again.

“Because I’m serious with you, dude.” Jaehyun replies as Y/N chuckles, the tears still in his eyes. “I’ve been wanting to tell you all this for a while now.”

Y/N snickers louder, he and his best friend’s intimacy overwhelming him. He takes in Jaehyun’s form, the moon casting its light down on him, and makes a desicion. “Fine.”

“Fine what?”

“Fine, you can be my candle. Fine, you can be my shining light. Fine…” Y/N pauses, trying to find the right words, “Fine, I’ll give this—us—a chance.”

Jaehyun quickly switches moods from his dejected one to a grin from ear to ear, painting over his gloomy look. “Does that mean you’re still my valentine for tomorrow...” Jaehyun pauses, looks at his watch then looks back into Y/N’s eyes, noticing all the sorrow fading, “I mean later?”

“Yes, dude.”

“We have to stop calling each other that now, babe.”

“Ew. Too cheesy don’t you think?”

“Not at all. I think it suits you.”

Both men chuckle as they stare out into the landscape, a completely new bond between them formed.

“Since it’s Valentine’s Day already,” Jaehyun mumbles as he looks toward Y/N’s direction, “do you mind giving me a kiss?” Y/N stops his peaceful gaze on the stars as he locks eyes with Jaehyun, noticing the sparkles in his eyes. “No running away this time though.”

Y/N chuckles before he places his hand on Jaehyun’s cheek, moving closer and closer, feeling their taboo love get stronger and stronger. Their lips touch as he realizes that Jaehyun’s lips taste more like peaches than strawberries. With this thought in mind, he smiles into their kiss, the feeling of fear leaving his body as he feels his best friend’s—now boyfriend’s—lips on his.

Instead of the briny ocean water witnessing their love wither merely 6 hours earlier, it was now the magnificent moon and the stunning stars bearing witness to their young, requited love bloom.

-

Maybe it was the stigma. The thing that kept them apart for so long. Maybe it was the stigma—or maybe they were both just pussies.

Good thing they grew some balls.

-

“I think I get why you like the moon and stars so much.” Jaehyun blurts as the two lay on the beach once again, staring up at the glittered night sky, the valentine air floating out and about.

“And why’s that?” Y/N says as he looks up at Jaehyun, curiosity devouring him.

“It reminds me of a phrase in Latin.” He replies, smiling as the bijou stars twinkled at them, as if they were smiling. “It means light in darkness.” Y/N nods. “The moon, the stars—they paint the plain black sky and turn it into something stunning. I can’t look away from it now. Whenever I look up at night, I’ll always remember you.”

“Good for you.” Y/N chuckles, shifting his gaze from his boyfriend’s cheek and placing it back on the painting-like sky above them, miniature dots glistening on the canvas. “What’s that phrase again? If it sounds pretty, I just might get it tattooed on me.”

“Light in darkness,” Jaehyun stops, smiling back at the specs winking at them, “and in Latin,” Y/N looks up at Jaehyun, only to catch him staring back, stars in his eyes,

“Lux in tenebris.”

End.

-

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙙: 02.04.21

𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙: 02.13.21

[beautifulpaxielreads]

Attention all Booklrs

EDIT:  Bec has just informed me I incorrectly named her co-team member and website creator as Sarah. Her name is actually Rachel - now FIXED.

I want to say firstly, this is not going to be a “reblog this or else!” sort of post - I hate those with a burning passion. I don’t want you to feel any pressure at all if you’re not comfortable interacting with this post. I don’t mind.

I’m writing this because a few days ago, I found a fantastic online resource that I think a lot of readers would find incredibly helpful.

It’s called...*insert drum roll here*

The Trigger Warning Database

Click underneath for a full (ish) explanation of what this website is about and how it works.

“This website, this database, is a place for readers like us. It’s for readers with triggers, readers on their own trauma recovery journeys, readers who just want the safe, enjoyable reading experience they deserve.

I know the idea of content warnings is controversial. Meme culture has slowly eroded the legitimate definition of ‘being triggered’ to the general public but it is real, valid experience. We know that and hope this website can help you out, even just a little.”

-- “Our Mission”, The Trigger Warning Database (https://triggerwarningdatabase.com/about/)

The Trigger Warning Database (TWD) was launched in June 2020, and is run by two Australian book bloggers, Rachel and Bec (click the links for their social media pages). 

As the mission statement suggests, TWD is a searchable online database of books and trigger warnings.

When you click on the link in my intro, it brings you to a page that should look like this:

Hopefully you should be able to make the screenshot bigger (on desktop) by right clicking it and opening it in a new window. Sorry for the folks viewing it on mobile, I’m not sure if it will come up any bigger. Let me know if you have any viewing problems and I’ll see what I can do.

See the blue circle on the far left?  That enables you to search by trigger.

If you click on it, it brings you to this page:

If you scroll down the page, you will find a list of triggers in alphabetical order.

Just click on the trigger that you want to look up, and it will give you an alphabetical list (by book title) of all the books in its database that have those specific triggers.

For example, here we have  a sample of the list that comes up if you click on the “Ableism & ableist language” trigger.

Are you starting to see how it works?

A few things to note:

Once you start navigating through the website, you will notice the following menu:

When you’ve left the homepage, you can also use this menu to help you navigate through the site.

Another thing you will notice as you browse through the site is that the suffix:

 “-phobia”

is not used anywhere, eg “homophobia”, “transphobia” etc.  Instead, you will find the suffix:

 “-misia” pronounced “my-Zee-ya”

Here is the site’s explanation as to why:

“Homomisia means a strong dislike of homosexuals and homosexuality; it refers to people bigoted towards gay people, and anti-gay rhetoric. We don’t use the term homophobia because it is misleading and inaccurate, literally meaning ‘a fear of gay people’. It is also belittling and insulting to people with legitimate phobias. Most people mean homomisia when they say homophobia.

It can also be swapped out for other prefixes, such as queermisia or bimisia.”

--”Why don’t you use the term homophobia? What does homomisia mean?”, https://triggerwarningdatabase.com/disclaimers/

Finally, you will notice the number of books in the database is quite limited. Understandably so, given it’s been running less than year! Is there a way you can help to grow this database? 

YES!

From the menu, hover over the heading labelled “Contact”. You will see the following:

Click on “Contribute”.

This will bring you to a submission page, where, if you want to add a book that is NOT already in the database, you can fill in the required details, which includes a list of any triggering content.

The database creators are quick to acknowledge that sometimes the emotional labour required to fill in said content can be extremely taxing. In recognition of this:

“If you choose to accept, as a sincere thank you, I will be listing contributors here with a link to whatever you to choose to promote (your blog, Twitter, BookTube etc). I will only be doing this with express permission however, so please know that entering your information above means you’re accepting that I will acknowledge your support and links on a public website.”

-- “Contribute”, https://triggerwarningdatabase.com/contribute-3/

You’ll notice I haven’t included every single detail about how to navigate this site. One, it would take too long for me to do (it’s already taken quite a while already), and two, I reckon you would find it easier to just navigate through the website itself.

Lastly, I’ll just tag a few people to help get the word out:

@thereadingchallengechallenge

@storytime-reviews

@books-and-cookies​

Also, if someone wants to make this post friendlier for vision-impaired folks, please go ahead! @youthbookreview​ I know you do this - feel free to ignore, though, if the task is monumental. My fault!

Acknowledgments: Bec, member of the TWD team for letting me spread the word here on Tumblr. All images included belong to TWD.

I hope the Trigger Warning Database will help you to have a safe and pleasurable reading experience. 

[sheabuttyr]

plumbbae asked: [IM SORRY IF this sent twice!! tumblr is wack and didn't give me the page where it says it did. ;/] -- > Hey babe. Is there a place where I can DL your old cc/sets? [specifically the Monopoly one.] If not, or you don't feel like answering, totally ok! Regardless, thanks for taking your time !! xx

Hey Love, you can find all of my old CC HERE

sosophia26 asked: Hey Girly!! I love your cc in and out. But the daija dreads cause my game to crash. I removed all my mods and tested it with only this and to figure out the cause. I was wondering was it working on your end and just my computer cant handle all of the black girl magic for it.

My hairs in game works fine and I haven’t heard anything from anyone else or my patrons. Try redownloading it. I’ll be on the lookout if anyone has any problems.

1jadelove asked: Hi! Can you tell me which eye preset do you use, please?

Hi Love, You can check my resource page.

smilingcrybaby asked: Hey, I love your cc & I'm so happy you're back. I wanted to know if you'll be converting your adult hairs to kids or if you'll ever consider making child hairs?

For the foreseeable future I don’t see me converting any children's hairs. If you are looking for some children's conversions of my hairs @dbasiasimbr is wonderful at conversions for children and toddlers! 

thesobaboba asked: how do u get ur sims to look the way u do? i love ur style of sims sm and wish i could make some have certain traits urs do.

Hi Love, You can check my resource page.

gussini asked: Heyy, I wanted ask what the color # of the brown you use for Mobile?

Here is the hex code love #71412c

queenwilluna asked: I've been looking around for some mm Bantu Knots and everything I find has been removed, do you plan on making some anytime?

Yes I do plan on re-uploading and making more! 

violeteyestokyoj asked: I cant find the hasina dreads anywhere does the file still exist?

Hey Love, you can find all of my old CC HERE

forthesimculture asked: Will you also be creating future hairs for male sims? I loved your previous additions and use them every time I play. Hands down the best in the community!

Thank You So Much! and Yes I do plan on making more masculine frame hairs very soon! Be on the lookout!

rootivy asked: hello!! I love your cc so much, but I was wondering if it's possible for you to label each of the hairs in your big collections you put out like for example the braids or afros with their names? Because sometimes I only want a couple and I am never sure which is which since they have names but it doesn't say which! Thank you so much! Have a great day!

Hello Love, I list the hairs in the picture order and from left to right like it says listed in the collections. These are just older hairs that have been updated with the swatches and minor fixes. So it shouldn't be too hard to navigate. 

sofiekinggorjusse asked: WCIF THE CURLY HAIR FROM YOUR COTTAGE LIVING PLAY THROUGH POST?! 😍 it’s so beautiful

Here you go! You can find this hair HERE! It is by the wonderful serenity-cc!

humansinthesky asked: just want to say I'm so glad you're back, my game wouldn't be the same without your content! looking forward to both your updated and brand new creations 💙

AWW, Thank You Sooo Much! I am happy to be back and making new creations for you all to enjoy! 

lithops93 asked: Hi! <3 Could you please tell me where to find the female hair here? /post/657575448480563200/here-are-some-sims-for-my-cottage-living

Here you go! You can find this hair HERE! It is by the wonderful serenity-cc!

nekochan-simmer asked: Hi, I want to firstly say that I love your cc and I'm glad you are back posting. That said, could you perhaps make your hair less poly? I checked the afro puffs for curiosity and they were 48k poly, it is insanely high for hair. I want to be able to use your hair but with each hair being so high poly I really can't keep a lot of them in game, and I'm lucky that my computer and game are able to support at least a small bunch of them, there's people whose specs don't allow them to install such heavy content. I honestly can't see a reason why a maxis match hair is so high in polygons.

The reason why some of the hairs are on the higher poly side of things is because some if not most elements are made from scratch and also I make more intricate details and I decimate the meshes as much as I can without trying to compromise the integrity of the initial mesh. But this is why I always preface the people downloading and the patrons who pledge to me to check the specs of your computer. Not all of my cc is high poly but sadly If i want my content to look the best It comes at a smaller cost of vertices and poly count. 

girlalmighty666 asked: Hi! I love your cc ❤️ and your model sims are TO DIE FOR! Would you ever consider sharing them for download? Pretty please 🥺

I don’t see me uploading my sims in the future but I can make a default sim for you all to download if you’d like.

detectivemogeta asked: just wanted to say thanks for everything you create, it really makes my game experience better :)

No, The pleasure is all mine! I am so glad you like my content enough to even download it.

[pinktwingirl]

Loki Series Rewrite (AKA Loki Series But With Squirrel Girl) Ep 3

INT. TVA - DAY

Loki is attacking Sylvie. Suddenly, Doreen enters and rushes up to them.

DOREEN

Loki, catch!

She tosses him a prune stick. Loki takes it and he starts fighting Sylvie with her. During the battle, Doreen manages to overpower Sylvie and tackle her to the ground. Doreen holds her knuckle spikes to Sylvie's throat, but Sylvie twists her arm and kicks Loki's prune stick away. Sylvie then kicks Doreen's face and grabs Loki. Doreen freezes when she sees Sylvie is holding a dagger to Loki's throat. Just then, Ravonna and several other agents enter.

SYLVIE

Come any closer, and I'll kill him.

RAVONNA

Go for it.

Doreen glares at her. Before she can attack, Loki whips out his tem-pad, causing himself and Sylvie to disappear.

We cut to later, when Mobius, Ravonna, and Doreen are standing where Loki and Sylvie vanished.

DOREEN

(to Ravonna)

Thanks for nothing.

RAVONNA

I called her bluff. I knew she wasn't going to do it.

DOREEN

Yeah. Sure.

MOBIUS

Where the hell did they go?

DOREEN

You don't know?

MOBIUS

Loki took the tem-pad with him. We can't find his location if we don't have it.

(He groans in frustration.)

That bastard! He directly disobeyed me! I knew I shouldn't have trusted him!

DOREEN

He probably just wanted to know what was going on! Look, I can find him with-

(She takes out her Loki locket, only to see that it is broken.)

Shit...

MOBIUS

What?

DOREEN

This thing must've gotten damaged in the fight.

MOBIUS

Can't you just fix it?

DOREEN

It's not that simple. Thor let me borrow parts of rare Asgardian technology to build this. They were some of the last parts they had, so I would have to go back in time to Asgard to get more. And... I have no idea where I would even begin to start looking there.

Mobius sighs.

MOBIUS

Alright, look, I'll search through our files on Asgard to see what I can find. In the meantime, just try to salvage what you can, and don't dilly-dally. Every moment those variants are on the loose, we're all in danger.

INT. TVA OFFICE - DAY

Doreen is trying to work on the locket to no avail. She slams it down and sighs. Just then, her squirrel Monkey Joe hops up on the table, carrying spare parts. He sets them down and squeaks at her.

DOREEN

No... Those won't work, Monkey Joe. We need gear that can navigate through both space and time.

Looking dejected, Monkey Joe lets out a few sad squeaks. Doreen pets him and gives him an almond as consolation.

DOREEN

I know, buddy, you tried your best...

Doreen's other squirrels, Tippy-Toe and Mr. Lieberman join Monkey Joe to eat pieces of the almond. Just then, CASEY turns around and peers at the squirrels in horror.

CASEY

What are those?

(Beat)

DOREEN

Um, almonds? Want some?

CASEY

No, the... things eating them...

Doreen raises an eyebrow.

DOREEN

They're squirrels.

CASEY

"Squirrels?"

DOREEN

What, you've never seen a squirrel before?

CASEY

No... I've spent my whole life here, so I've never seen any animals at all.

Doreen looks mortified.

DOREEN

That's the saddest thing I've ever heard in my life...

INT. TVA LIBRARY - DAY

Mobius is looking through various old books on shelves. He pauses when he flips through a book that has Asgardian writing and a map of Asgard.

INT. TVA OFFICE - DAY

Doreen is showing Casey pictures of different types of squirrels on her phone as Casey looks on in wonder.

DOREEN

So, this here is a red squirrel. I just love their little pointy ears! Ooh, and these ones are extra rare: The Japanese flying squirrel! Look at their beady little eyes! And their fluffy tail! You can only find these in one island on all of Earth!

CASEY

Wow... That's amazing!

Just then, Mobius walks in.

MOBIUS

Doreen!

Doreen quickly slams her phone down.

DOREEN

Uhhh, yes, sir, we are hard at work!

She does an awkward salute. Mobius frowns at her.

MOBIUS

I found this book in our library.

(He flips to a page that has a drawing of Odin's treasure room with a description written in Asgardian.)

This look familiar?

Doreen frowns as she peers at the book.

DOREEN

This is all in Asgardian. I can't read it.

MOBIUS

Forget the text; look at the picture.

He points to a section of the drawing where several golden parts are stored in the treasure room. Doreen's eyes widen.

DOREEN

Oh my God... I think that's it!

Mobius grins.

MOBIUS

Yeah? You think you could go get it if I sent you to Asgard, say, a couple decades in the past?

DOREEN

Sure, I mean... All I would have to do is find Odin's treasure room... wherever that is, somehow break in, get the parts, and then, by some miracle, get out undetected, and then we're home free!

MOBIUS

Easy!

DOREEN

Easy!

(She pats him on the back.)

Good job, Moby! I might need a change of clothes, though.

MOBIUS

What's wrong with your clothes?

DOREEN

I mean, I can't just walk into Asgard like this; I'd stick out like a sore thumb!

Mobius sighs.

MOBIUS

Alright, I'll see if we have any old stuff from the Asgardian variants we've taken in. But study that book and maybe try to come up with a halfway coherent plan for sneaking in. I'll set the portal to send you back to the same moment in time once you're done, so you can take however long you need to look for the parts. But don't use that as an excuse to sight-see!

He chuckles under his breath as he walks away.

MOBIUS

"Moby"...

INT. LAMENTIS-1 TRAIN - NIGHT

Loki and Sylvie are chatting on the train.

SYLVIE

How about you? You're a prince! Must've been... would-be princesses. Or, perhaps, another prince?

LOKI

A bit of both. I suspect, the same as you. But nothing ever...

SYLVIE

Real.

LOKI

Hmm.

(Beat)

SYLVIE

What about your mortal girl? What was her name? Doreen?

Loki raises an eyebrow.

SYLVIE

She seems nice.

LOKI

Oh, I'm sure she'd appreciate that, coming from the person who practically kicked her face in.

SYLVIE

Hey, when she's on the run, a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do.

LOKI

And, no, she's... just an acquaintance. 

Sylvie raises an eyebrow and smirks.

INT. ASGARD PALACE, 1960 - NIGHT

Doreen enters the palace through a portal in a pretty, albeit slightly ill-fitting blue Asgardian dress, with her hair done up like all the other noble ladies. As she wanders around, she spots a crowd of noble ladies in ballgowns chatting and laughing while they walk. She tries to inconspicuously join the group, when a MAID calls out to her.

MAID

Um, pardon me, my lady?

Doreen freezes to see if the maid is talking to her.

MAID

Do you not have something to wear for tonight?

DOREEN

I... Um... Well, I was just going to wear this... very Asgardian dress...

MAID

Do you... have anything a little more formal? I trust you haven't forgotten that the ball is tonight?

DOREEN

Uh... Right... Yes... Of course... Um...

MAID

We have some spare dresses if you'd like to borrow one. I'm sure the queen wouldn't mind.

Doreen hesitates for a moment.

DOREEN

A-alright... Thank you.

She follows the maid into a corridor.

INT. CHANGING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

Doreen sits in front of a mirror while the maid styles her hair. She has a layer of light, pretty makeup on her face.

MAID

Have you decided which dress you'd like, my lady?

DOREEN

Oh... I liked the green one.

The maid raises an eyebrow.

MAID

Are we... hoping for something?

DOREEN

Wh-what do you mean?

MAID

Well, if you're wearing the colors of Prince Loki, some might think you were... trying to get his attention.

(Beat)

DOREEN

W-will he be there?

MAID

He should. I must warn you that he detests these types of social events, though. At last winter's ball, he projected an illusion of himself in the ballroom to make it seem like he was present when he was really in his room reading books the whole night.

Doreen grins.

MAID

Shall I help you put on your dress?

DOREEN

(Lost in thought)

Yeah...

(Her head shoots up as she comes back to her senses.)

U-uh, I mean, no! No, no, no! I... I can do it myself...

INT. ASGARDIAN BALLROOM, 1960 - NIGHT

Loki is standing off to the side while Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three talk and drink. They are all dressed in their outfits from 2011 Thor. Thor downs a mug of ale.

THOR

Another!

He smashes his drink on the ground and Loki rolls his eyes. Thor approaches him and claps him on the back - a little too hard. Loki grunts and gives him an irritated look.

THOR

Come on, brother... You could at least try to have a little fun!

Loki scoffs.

LOKI

Watching every maiden in the palace fawn over you and Fandral is not my idea of fun.

Thor laughs.

THOR

Loki... Must you be so down? You can't spend all your time shut up in your room reading all those books and doing your little magic spells.

LOKI

Why not? I'd infinitely prefer it to this.

Before Thor can say another word, Loki walks off. A SERVANT approaches him, carrying a tray with a goblet of wine on it.

SERVANT

Some wine, your highness?

Loki eagerly takes the goblet and drinks it, nearly downing the entire thing in one swig. He freezes when he sees something in the distance.

We pan up the staircase as we see Doreen descending down it, wearing an elegant green and gold dress. Her hair is done up in an intricate braid, with golden ornaments adorning it. She looks around the ballroom nervously, peering at different corridors in an attempt to find the treasure room. Never taking his eyes off her, Loki sets the goblet down on a table nearby and walks off-screen.

As Doreen makes her way across the ballroom, Tippy-Toe suddenly scurries off to a table where grapes and nuts are laid out.

DOREEN

Tippy!

(She rushes after her.)

We're supposed to be keeping a low profile!

Tippy-Toe gives her a pleading look and a few squeaks. Doreen sighs.

DOREEN

Alright, fine. But just one.

She hands Tippy-Toe a macadamia nut. As the squirrel eats her treat, we suddenly hear Loki's voice behind them. Startled, Doreen whirls around.

LOKI

As much as I'm sure your friend is pleasant company, the kitchen staff might not take kindly to seeing a rodent on the refreshment table.

Tippy-Toe cocks her head and gives him an inquisitive squeak. Loki smiles at her.

LOKI

No offense.

DOREEN

Ah... Y-You're right, um... Tippy, why don't you go eat that outside? I'll catch up with you later.

Tippy-Toe squeaks and runs off with her nut. Nervously wringing her hands, Doreen glances back at Loki, who smiles at her.

DOREEN

So, um... Are you... actually here this time, or is this just another one of your creepy illusions?

Loki smiles and extends his hand to her.

LOKI

Perhaps you should find out for yourself.

After hesitating for a moment, Doreen gingerly places her hand in his. Loki kisses the back of her hand, causing her to blush.

LOKI

I'm terribly sorry; I don't believe I caught your name?

DOREEN

U-um... Doreen.

LOKI

Well, Lady Doreen... Would you care for a dance?

DOREEN

Huh? O-oh, I, um... I-I don't... really know how...

LOKI

It's easy! I'll teach you! Here...

(He leads her into the center of the ballroom, where other couples are dancing.)

Just step forward like this... Then back... Right... Left...

Doreen glances nervously around the room as he leads her into a waltz.

LOKI

You don't have to watch what everyone else is doing; just follow my lead...

(Beat)

You're, um... You're stepping on my foot.

DOREEN

Oh, sorry!

They continue to chat as they dance.

LOKI

You know, I'm surprised a noble lady like yourself never learned to dance.

DOREEN

Oh, well, um... I don't... really like going to parties very much.

LOKI

Ah. I don't either, to be honest.

DOREEN

Then how'd you get to be so good at dancing? Are all the girls lining up to dance with the youngest prince of Asgard?

Loki laughs, embarrassed.

LOKI

Ah.... N-no, not exactly... That's... more Thor's forte. I... mostly learned from dancing with my mother.

Doreen grins.

DOREEN

Aww...

Loki laughs.

(Beat)

LOKI

You're stepping on my foot again.

DOREEN

Ack!

She takes her foot off of his.

LOKI

You know, I'm starting to think you're doing this on purpose.

DOREEN

I'm not!

After a pause, she grins devilishly and stomps on his foot, causing him to yelp in surprise.

DOREEN

Okay, maybe that was on purpose.

They both laugh. Doreen glances at his helmet.

DOREEN

That helmet looks... comfortable.

LOKI

Oh, it is.

DOREEN

Yeah, I don't believe you.

LOKI

Well, it only weighs about 30 pounds, give or take. It's like wearing a feather.

They both snicker.

DOREEN

Doesn't it ever throw you off balance?

LOKI

Not once you get used to it. You should try wearing it sometime. I'm sure you'd love it.

Doreen grins, laughing to herself.

DOREEN

Yeah, I'm sure...

LOKI

I, um... I must ask... Did you... wear green tonight deliberately? It is my favorite color, after all.

DOREEN

Oh, really? I never would've been able to tell!

They both laugh.

DOREEN

No, it, um... It's actually my favorite color, too, so...

LOKI

Ah.

DOREEN

Is that, like, something people actually do? I mean... wearing certain colors to get people to notice them?

LOKI

Well, sometimes, yes. I... admit, I... actually tried it once myself.

DOREEN

Oh yeah?

LOKI

A few years ago, there was a prince visiting from Vanaheim that I was... rather taken with. It was known that he loved silver, so I thought if I wore silver armor, I might... endear myself to him.

DOREEN

Did it work?

LOKI

(laughing)

No.

DOREEN

Well... I think you look better in green, anyway.

We cut to Thor standing with ODIN and FRIGGA on the far side of the ballroom, watching Loki and Doreen.

THOR

Mother, who is that Loki is dancing with?

FRIGGA

I'm not sure... I don't believe I've ever seen her around the palace before...

ODIN

Neither have I. I would wager she's merely the daughter of a poor social climber trying to pass himself off as a noble. Nothing to concern yourself with.

Thor grins as Odin walks off-screen.

THOR

Well, Loki seems to be finally enjoying himself...

They watch Loki twirl Doreen around as she giggles, her face flushed red. Frigga laughs.

FRIGGA

That's the first time I've seen him smile all day...

As they continue to dance, Doreen grows more nervous, suddenly unable to meet Loki's gaze, which never leaves her face. At one point, Loki places his hands around her waist and pulls her closer to him, causing her to tremble slightly. After hesitating, she gently places her hands on his shoulders. He smiles as the orchestra finishes playing.

DOREEN

How did I do?

LOKI

You're a fast learner. I'm impressed.

They smile at each other.

EXT. ASGARDIAN COURTYARD - NIGHT

Loki and Doreen chat as they walk through the garden in the palace courtyard, with Doreen drinking a cocktail in an elegant glass.

LOKI

I apologize if I come off as um... well, stiff... I have to admit this sort of thing is... well, it's rather new for me. I was never really very social growing up... Everyone always admired Thor for his physical strength, and, well... My own talents of magic and intellect are far less revered. The only friends I ever had, I met through Thor.

DOREEN

If it makes you feel any better, I didn't have any friends as a kid.

Loki raises an eyebrow.

LOKI

Not any?

Doreen shakes her head.

LOKI

Well, I... certainly wish we'd met sooner, then.

(Beat)

DOREEN

Yeah, me too.

LOKI

It's certainly never easy being an outcast... I've spent my whole life living in Thor's shadow... I know my father wishes I were more like him and his friends, but... All the brawn and muscle... It's just not who I am. I'm not like them.

DOREEN

Yeah, and, I mean, I'm sure being a frost giant and all must make you feel different, too...

Loki frowns.

LOKI

I beg your pardon?

Doreen's eyes widen, and she almost chokes on her drink.

DOREEN

U-Uh... I-I mean, um... Hypothetically speaking, if someone were... secretly a frost giant living in Asgard, that would... make them feel different, but, you know, that... wouldn't happen... ever...

She lets out a nervous laugh and sets her drink down on a nearby table as Loki blinks in confusion.

DOREEN

Anyways... What are you plans for the future if you're not first in line for the throne?

LOKI

I'm... not sure, to be honest. My parents thought I could gain some title of power by marrying me off to some other royal family, but I... don't think that's going to happen.

DOREEN

I guess it's too bad things didn't work out with that Vanaheim prince, then.

LOKI

Well, actually, I'm... rather glad they didn't now.

DOREEN

Why?

(Beat)

LOKI

Because now I've met you.

Doreen freezes and glances at him in surprise. He gives her a gentle smile in return. For a moment, she looks inexplicably happy, but once her senses return to her, her face falls and she backs away from him. Loki frowns.

LOKI

Is... something wrong?

DOREEN

I... I have to go...

LOKI

If... If I've said something wrong, I-

DOREEN

N-no! No, it's not... I... I'm sorry...

Before he can say another word, she runs away.

EXT. ASGARDIAN FOUNTAIN - MOMENTS LATER

Doreen splashes her face with water from a fountain on the other side of the courtyard, trying to pull herself together. Suddenly, Tippy-Toe runs up to her and squeaks at her.

DOREEN

Right... Parts...

INT. ODIN'S TREASURE ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

Sneaking around corridors, Doreen finally finds the entrance to Odin's treasure room, which is protected by two guards.

DOREEN

(Whispering)

Okay, Tippy, you distract them while I sneak up on them from behind.

Tippy-Toe salutes, runs up to the guards, and starts playing with their armor while squeaking at them.

GUARD #1

What the-?! What is that?!

GUARD #2

It appears to be some type of squirrel...

Guard #1 tries flicking Tippy-Toe off his armor.

GUARD #1

Shoo! Begone, creature!

(He turns to the other guard.)

Do you think it's Ratatoskr?

GUARD #2

No, you fool! Ratatoskr has a horn!

Before they can say another word, Doreen strikes them both from behind. They try to attack her, but she expertly knocks them both out in one punch.

DOREEN

(to Tippy-Toe)

Let's go.

She and Tippy-Toe enter the treasure room, scanning the area for the parts. Doreen frowns in confusion when she sees Odin's fake infinity gauntlet, but is quickly distracted by the golden parts in a chest in the far end of the room.

DOREEN

Got it!

She tries picking up the parts, but as soon as she does, a shield of magic blocks the exit.

DOREEN

Oh, that's not good...

She hears footsteps and guards' voices rushing towards the treasure room. Moving quickly, she jumps up to the ceiling and kicks down the mechanism creating the shield.

DOREEN

Tippy, we gotta run!

Hiding in corridors, they slip past the guards and escape to the outside of the palace. Doreen grabs her tem-pad and opens a portal. Before she returns to the TVA, she catches a glimpse of Loki's silhouette in the distance walking around. For a moment, he seems to be looking for something, but he soon sits down on a bench, defeated, and looks at the other party guests in the distance. Squeezing her eyes shut, Doreen turns away and places a reset charge on the ground. As she and Tippy go through the portal, the reset charge disintegrates the area.

INT. TVA - DAY

Doreen and Tippy-Toe rush through the portal, causing Doreen to nearly run into Mobius, who raises an eyebrow.

DOREEN

I got the parts.

MOBIUS

I... can see that. Are you okay? What's with the getup?

DOREEN

I'm fine - There was a ball going on, so I just had to change to blend in...

(Beat)

I should... get started on fixing the locket.

Before Mobius can stop her, she rushes to another room.

INT. TVA OFFICE - DAY

Still in her ballgown, Doreen is busying inserting the parts into the locket. Mobius enters.

MOBIUS

I, uh... saw the footage of Asgard...

Doreen grits her teeth and says nothing.

MOBIUS

So... you... like Loki, huh? Gotta say, I wasn't expecting that...

DOREEN

I really don't want to talk about this.

MOBIUS

Does he know?

DOREEN

Uh, no, he doesn't, and I'd like to keep it that way.

MOBIUS

Well, I mean... I'd be lying if I said I thought you weren't an odd pair, but I guess I can see it...

Doreen clenches her jaw and ignores him.

MOBIUS

I just don't see why you're all upset over it...

Doreen slams the locket down.

DOREEN

Because! I'm gonna live, what? 80, 90 years max? Maybe a hundred if I'm lucky? That's a fraction of Loki's life! Why would he ever pay any attention to me?! If that Loki from the past knew I was just a human, he wouldn't have taken a second glance at me!

Realizing she is losing her composure, she tries to focus back on fixing the locket. 

After a moment, Mobius sits down next to her.

MOBIUS

You know, I've studied Loki's entire life. I thought I understood everything there was to know about him. But you... you stumped me. If Loki knew he was going to die at the hands of Thanos, why did he trust you to be the one to bring him back to life? And then, it hit me... It's because he knows you're different. He knows that you know what it's like to be an outcast. He could sense it, just from meeting you, that you would be the first stranger he ever met that wouldn't see him as an enemy.

After a pause, Doreen shakes her head.

DOREEN

Even if I could believe that... it wouldn't matter. I'm never going to live long enough to be a part of his life.

(Beat)

MOBIUS

You know, when you've worked at the TVA for as long as I have, you tend to get a bit of a perspective on these types of things. Doreen... It's not about how much time we have... It's what we do with our time while we have it that matters. And you may not believe me, but I know you've made a difference in his life. You never doubted him, even when you had every right to. And that's always going to stick with him, even long after you're gone.

Doreen looks down and says nothing. After a moment, Mobius stands up.

MOBIUS

Well... make of it what you will. I'm gonna go ask the other agents if they've found any leads-

Suddenly, the locket clicks open.

DOREEN

It's fixed!

(She hands it to Mobius.)

Here, let that charge at a good power source for a little bit. Once it's at 100%, you should be able to see where Loki is.

MOBIUS

Okay, great. We'll get a task force ready to go get him.

DOREEN

Can I come?

MOBIUS

Ravonna would rather you stay here. She doesn't want a non-variant being put at an unnecessary risk.

Doreen's face falls, but she nods. Mobius exits. Doreen sits back at a computer and starts to look through files. She comes across a tab that reads "AGENT PROFILES", but when she tries to access it, she gets a message that reads "ERROR: RESTRICTED". Glancing over her shoulder, she checks to make sure no one else is in the room and begins typing.

INT. RAVONNA'S OFFICE - DAY

As Ravonna sits at her desk, she receives a holographic message that reads "WARNING: DATA BREACH DETECTED". She clenches her jaw.

INT. TVA OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER

Doreen is reading files on her computer. As she continues to read, her eyes widen, with her expression growing more and more horrified. Suddenly, she turns back to the door.

DOREEN

Mobius?!

When there is no response, she tries to exit the room and follow after Mobius, but a gate of lasers suddenly blocks her path. As she glances at it, confused, Ravonna opens a portal into the room and strikes her from behind, knocking her out.

SYLVIE SMIRKS ‘CAUSE SHE KNOWS HE LYIN

So yeah, I took a lot of inspiration for the ballroom scene from the Laendler scene from The Sound of Music. I imagined Loki and Doreen’s relationship being a lot like The Captain and Maria, ‘cause I’m a huge sucker for the hardened grouch going soft for the innocent, lighthearted dreamer trope lol :P

I also listened to the song “When the Night is Over” by Lord Huron a lot when writing that scene. It’s very sad and haunting if you think of it as Loki’s POV after Doreen runs away.

Finally, I am officially dubbing the Doreen x Loki pairing “Dorki”, and I shall henceforth be tagging these posts as such!

@drawntothedarkside

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of wildfire relief, @jesusonthetortillas​ donated $10, and requested pre-series pining!Sam, with diary discovery. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

After his little lesson from Sabrina, the hot librarian's assistant, it's not hard at all for Dean to find what he's looking for. He drops Sam off at the library the way he usually does, and flirts with Sabrina on his way out like he usually does, but instead of going to his shift at the construction site like Sam thinks he's going to, he circles back around, through the library stacks on the main floor, and waits like a dingus by YOUNG ADULT – ADVENTURE, watching the back of Sam's nerdy, nerdy head where he's hunched at the computer banks, getting up to no kind of good.

It wouldn't have come to this, Dean thinks, if Sam weren't so—he doesn't even know how to think about it. He doesn't know when to pin it down. They were doing okay. Sam ran away, a few years back, but since then he's—well, he's always bitching at Dad and bitching at Dean half the time too, but he's done good in school, he's done his part with the hunting. It was sometime at that last school. September in Maryland. Dad was gone a lot of the time, because Dad always was, and Dean went with him on about half the hunts but Sam got to stay behind, got to just call in research tips and last-minute lore checks, and Dean thought he was pretty happy, as much as Sam ever seemed happy. Chill, just doing his homework at the rickety desk, not complaining any more than usual about Dean's usual dinners of fast food or Kraft or Top Ramen. Seventeen and getting tall and mellowing out, and finally hanging out with his little brother was just fine. Dean thought.

That was two towns ago, three months ago. Dean picks his nails with his pocket knife, leaning on one elbow by the Hardy Boys. Sam's still working away on the computer. Anymore he always is. After school he's always angling for Dean to bring him to the library and if Dean won't drive him then Sam walks, even when it's raining, like it is half the time in frickin Washington, anyway. Always finding a free computer and settling in and disappearing onto the internet. Not coming home until the library closes, and moody if Dean's there when he walks in, and Dean just—he thought they were past all this crap. He thought that maybe Sam had—settled. Figured out how things were, how things had to be.

Well. Either way. Sabrina, with the glasses and the sexy dreads and the legs that very much went all the way to the floor under those wide-legged pants she was always wearing—she gave Dean a computer lesson, free of charge, and he's got a way in, now. Sam won't talk to him, won't hardly look at him. Dean chews the inside of his cheek, watching Sam type on the battered public machine. Sam's not the only one who knows how to research a case, in this family. Dean's going to figure this out. He's gonna fix it.

A bell rings, at five o'clock, like the end of a school day. Sam jerks like he's been shocked and looks up at the ceiling, clearly annoyed. He's been engrossed for two hours, typing away, reading. Real frickin' boring, on Dean's end, but he stayed put. Like staking out a house for a job—nothing to do but wait. He takes a few steps backwards, makes sure the shelves hide his face, and there's a general rustling as people leave—a mom and her kid, and tears because the kid's favorite book wasn't here—and when Dean looks again the computer banks are empty, and Sabrina's checking out the last few patrons, and Sam's—gone. Walking home in the rain, little goth that he is. Fine with Dean, if it gives him a few minutes.

When he settles into the chair Sam was in it's still warm. He opens up Netscape Navigator, the library's homepage welcoming him in a friendly kinda way—big yellow smiley face, that's fun. He goes to where Sabrina taught him, in the menu at the top: view, and then History, where it turns out the computer saves all the webpages you went to just in case you need to find them again, and there—oh, jackpot. Gotcha, Sam.

All kinds of crap. A weather website, a bunch of Ask Jeeves searches, something called DiffEQandU. Some mythology stuff, too, and Dean goes to one that turns out to be a history of kitsune. That's something, at least—Sam doing his important homework, in there with whatever other crap he's been working on.

The last bunch of results are all pages from some website called Livejournal, which Dean's never heard of. He clicks one at random and is brought to—huh. A splashy red page, with a big picture on top of kids graduating from high school in those dorky blue robes. He scrolls down, skimming, looking for the important details among the mess, but it's hard to tell what it is. A forum, it looks like. Kind of like the ones Dean's been on where people trade car parts, or swap ghost stories. A square box, dated yesterday, that says WHEN IS HARVARD'S APP REVIEW???, and a panicky paragraph where some chick might die if she doesn't get in. Another, the day before, with questions about the SAT, and a link that says 43 comments that, when Dean clicks it, brings him to a bunch of apparently teenagers all giving each other tips from some test they're worried about taking.

College. Dean's stomach curls into a knot. It's all—college stuff, applications and tests and deadlines. The usernames are all weird shit: tmntpizzadelivery, quistis4ever, willyshakes. Dean can't tell—is one of these kids Sam?

Sabrina's nearly done with her line of book nerds. Dean rubs a hand over his mouth and clicks away, tries another of the Livejournal results in the history. Another forum, this one apparently about—soccer? Jesus, Sam. Another forum, this one about Conan the Barbarian, and that one's at least easy to snort at, with people's shitty drawings of Red Sonja and excitement about a possible remake. There are personal pages, though, too—one titled Delaware Sucks, in which some girl complains about her life—one titled trent reznor rules my soul, featuring a goth kid who won't shut up about Nine Inch Nails and his bitch of a mother. Another, with a plain blue-and-grey color scheme, with the title on the road, and a new post from today—from an hour ago—with the text just reading, I don't know what to do anymore, and six comments underneath, waiting.

"Hey—ready to go?" Sabrina says.

Dean jerks in his seat. Sabrina's raising her eyebrows at him, behind her glasses, a little smile curving her mouth that promises something a little better than book dust and computer lessons. "I'm always ready," Dean says, grinning, and gets her to roll her eyes—yeah, he's in there—but his eyes drag back to the webpage, the posts. He scrolls down, quick—post after post, waiting to be read. "Real quick—borrow a pen?"

She has one—she's a sexy librarian, of course she has one—and he uncrumples a receipt from his jacket pocket and writes down the URL, careful to get it right. rearviewmirror.livejournal.com. He wants to click on the comments, but.

"Come on, the movie's starting soon," Sabrina says, and Dean closes Netscape, folds the receipt very carefully into his pocket, stands up. He's got a date to make out with a hot chick in the back of a movie theater, and maybe a little more, and Sam's whole Eeyore routine has to take a number. Dean will figure it out. He's got an easy way to run a stakeout, now.

*

December 4

Still can't decide. Anyone else going through this?

current mood: agonized current music: motorhead (AGAIN)

Comments:

teenagehamburger: Yes!! I still don't know where I want to go. Mom wants me to stay close to home, but Delaware sucksssss. Where are you looking?

       rearviewmirror: Anywhere. TBH I'm still not even sure I should apply.

               teenagehamburger: WTF?? Of course you should!! College is the big escape, remember?

 December 1

He's driving me INSANE

current mood: annoyed current music: motorhead (again)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: lol you got it bad

       rearviewmirror: right now I just want to hit him with a brick, actually

teenagehamburger: LOL!! Sorry :(  :(

       rearviewmirror: Sigh. I guess it could be worse, right?

             teenagehamburger: Definitely!! He could be the cute cheerleader from 4th period who doesn't know I exist….

                     coppertonebuttgirl: oh, sorry hammie, that sucks <3

 November 29

The thing is, I don't even want anything crazy? I just want to be—me. Just me, without anyone breathing down my neck. Trig teacher says I could get in to one of the top ten, but I just want to go *anywhere that's not here*

current mood: restless current music: Pearl Jam (home alone!)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: i hear you lol. why don't they get that the rules and hovering and all that shit just makes us want to run faster?

    rearviewmirror: Exactly! My teacher keeps talking about college like it's a place to expand your mind and stuff, and that's fine, but lately I just want to expand my horizons. Kind of ironic?

         bloodofreptile: yeah lol haven't you lived like everywhere?

               rearviewmirror: Feels like it.

teenagehamburger: Is You Know Who going to college too?

 November 18

I feel like it shouldn't be this hard. Normal people have it easy.

current mood: indescribable current music: silence

Comments:

coppertonebuttgirl: feel free to talk to me anytime <3

 November 3

Dad's gone again. Didn't say goodbye. We went to the movies and he gave me a beer, and we watched the stars for an hour in the parking lot even though it was freaking freezing. Happier than I've been in a while. Don’t want it to change but it has to change.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

teenagehamburger: OMG, that sounds so romantic?? I can't believe you were drinking!! Aren't you underage?

     bloodofreptile: lol relax it's not a big deal

           teenagehamburger: I'm just saying!!

coppertonebuttgirl: wish it wasn't hard for you <3

bloodofreptile: dude you've got to say something

     rearviewmirror: I literally can't.

          bloodofreptile: ok but it's gonna drive you crazy. do you even know if he's gay? start with that maybe

*

The posts go on, and on. Reading backwards through time, it's a strange piecing-together. rearviewmirror is active in about ten communities and Dean reads through all of them, that week, bringing an illicit cup of coffee in to the library when he doesn't have a construction shift. He reads with his hand over his mouth and by the time he has to get off the computer he's got a headache, every time, his throat dry and aching.

The journal's been active for six months. Dean clicks through the pages to the very start and reads it in the right order, his heart pounding oddly in his ears. I don't know what this place is. A journal, I guess, considering the name. I just need somewhere to talk where no one will listen.

It's not a pouring-out, like some teenage girl doodling hearts around her crush's initials. He holds back. Never says exactly where they're living, never mentions names. To figure out who it was, you'd have to be one of two other people, and Dean knows that Dad can barely turn on a computer, much less go onto the internet and pore over some teenage angst-fest. Dean spends half his time wishing he were the same. Maybe if he hadn't asked Sabrina for help.

At home, Sam's the same as he always is. Comes home after his own stint at the library, eats the dinner Dean gives him. He reads, most of the time. Does his schoolwork. Dean says, careful one night, "Hey, True Lies is on. Wanna watch?" but Sam only gives him a strange, uncertain look and says, "No, I have a paper due," and he shuts himself into their bedroom with the door very firmly closed, and Dean sits there on the couch alone with a beer and Jamie Lee Curtis being sexy as hell on the fuzzy TV, and he—he doesn't know what to do.

He remembers that day, the looking at the stars day. It was November 2. A nasty anniversary, in their family, and yeah, Dad left. Dean got it. He'd thought Sam did, too, by now. It was better to have Dad gone, on a hunt, than trying to drink himself to death at home in the apartment. At least he was working, that way, and not hurting himself. To distract both of them, Dean picked Sam up from the library and they went straight to the movie theater—the Blair Witch sequel, with Dean providing running commentary about how dumb they were about dealing with ghosts, which at least made Sam grin and elbow him to shut up, even if he was laughing too, the liar—and, yeah, afterward they'd picked up Taco Bell, and then after that Dean swung through the liquor store drive-thru and they parked out, and he let Sam have a beer, and they both sat on the trunk and leaned back against the cold glass or the rear window and didn't really talk, much. The stars, big above them. The night, quiet. Sam was pressed against his side, chilled out and not bitching about anything, and Dean tucked his hand behind his head and he was pretty content with the world, right then. His brother, here, and a six-pack waiting, and nothing happening right then that'd hurt them. Sam smiled at him, that night, before he went to bed. It was sweet—like he used to be, when he was little—and Dean had ended up falling asleep on the couch, watching the public access, but his dreams that night were—good, like they never were on the night of November 2, and it had felt… okay.

do you even know if he's gay?

The college prep—that wasn't a surprise. It hurt but it didn't shock. All his worrying, all his whining, wanting to be 'free'—whatever free meant—it was all part and parcel of the last decade. Dean should've known better. Sam wasn't mellowing out. Sam was a stubborn little shit and he'd always wanted to have a life that wasn't—this.

The gay thing. That hit different. One of the communities Sam followed was for lesbian and gay youth, talking about their coming out experiences. Sam didn't post there much but he commented, asked questions. How do you know? What does it feel like? The hamburger girl was from there, a lesbian chick trapped in some Delaware high school. Encouraging, commiserating. They talked about how college would be their big escape, their chance to go to a big city and find their way. Meet people. Only apparently hamburger girl was crushing on the cheerleader from fourth period, and Sam—

Dean makes an excuse the next day. Saturday: no work for Dean, no school for Sam. Alone in the apartment together, all day, after Dean's week of reading—he can't face it. "Where are you going?" Sam asks, eight a.m. with his hair fucked up and coffee clenched between his hands, and Dean looks at him in his pajama pants and his ratty hand-me-down shirt, skinny and tall and hiding things Dean can't handle, and he says, snappish in a way he doesn't mean to be—"Out, Sam, for christ's sake—" and sees Sam's expression shutter before the apartment door slams behind him.

He goes for a drive, out of town. Cold, threatening rain like it always is, but it won't snow. Out—past the airport, past the suburbs, out to Black Lake. They killed the nymph that was drowning people out here, him and Dad, when they first arrived. Sam stayed home. Sullen on the other end of the line when Dean called to say they'd finished the job, and they were getting burgers for dinner, and did Sam want one. Whatever, Sam had said, like even answering was an imposition. That was November, too.

He sits on the hood, heels braced on the bumper, arms locked around his knees. The lake looks cold. He wants to sink into it, wants to feel that freezing shock, like the polar bear dive he did on a dare back in Illinois. The way the brain just goes blank, tv-static filling up everything and washing all the shit away. All the weird crap you don't want to think about, frozen, and the only thing to focus on just—getting out.

He's not going to dive into the lake. It's nine in the morning and he's wearing his only pair of boots. He hasn't gone out with Sabrina all week. He's been piss-poor at the construction site and McMillan nearly brained him with a hammer yesterday, because Dean wasn't paying attention, and the foreman screamed at him in front of the whole crew. None of that feels close, right now. He breathes the wet-clogged air, cold and mossy, turning his ring restlessly on his finger.

Back at that high school they went to in Raton, Mrs. Encinas in 6th period English told Dean he'd be smart, if he didn't just give up all the time. All he needed to do was take the time to read between the lines, to actually interpret what he was reading and not take things on face value. He made some joke. He doesn't remember what it was, now. Like he didn't know what the fuckin Great Gatsby was saying, when he hoped and hoped and never got what he wanted. When happiness always felt like it was about a thousand miles away, on the other side of a lake he couldn't cross, and hope went out like a snuffed light. Dean can read what's not there. He's done it his whole life.

The problem: Sam's little online journal went back six months. They've lived in four towns, in that time. He never uses names, never puts up anything that'd really identify him. They were in Maryland, August-September-first of October, and it was a comment right at the end of August, on the community for gay kids, talking to the hamburger girl: I like someone, too. He doesn't know. He. The same he that carried forward, through all his journal entries, from Maryland to Washington across whole breadth of the country. He likes classic rock. He drives me nuts. He gave me a beer, and I wanted—

Dean curls forward over his knees, sliding his hands into his hair, breathing hard between his knees. He can read between the lines and he wishes that he couldn't. He wishes—god. What? That Sam would just meet a nice girl and fuck her and get it out of his system? Except how he was writing, it wasn't like it was new. It was something he'd been thinking about. When did you know? had read one of the forum posts, and in the responses, among all the dumb teenage crap about formal dances and jerking off to the wrong person in the music video, there was a comment by username rearviewmirror that said, I broke my leg and he carried me to the car and I wanted to kiss him.

Sam broke his leg in July, the summer he turned fifteen. He'd been trying to stay quiet but he'd had this trapped whimper in his throat that he couldn't stop, and Dad had stayed behind to cover their backs and it had been left to Dean, to scoop Sam up, his whole body quivering with the shock—to hug him close between the trees, humid Georgia night making every place their skin touched slick with sweat—to let Sam cling to his neck, shuddering, and to put a hand on his back and whisper, hey, Sammy, it's not even that bad, huh? no bone sticking out, you did good. we're gonna get you a cast and I'm gonna draw you a great picture, okay, Cindy Crawford with her tits out, right there on your shin and Sam had been so shaky that his laugh sounded like he was crying, but he'd nodded against Dean's neck and chattered out sounds cool, Dean, and when Dean got him to the car Sam hadn't wanted to let him go—so they crawled into the backseat together, Sam still half in his lap and with his arms still tight around Dean's neck. Dad got into the front and frowned at Dean in the rearview, and Dean nodded, and when the car leapt forward Sam gasped and gripped at Dean's shirt when his leg got jostled, and Dean put his hand in Sam's hair and said, it's okay, you're okay, and Sam—wanted to kiss him.

He can't square it. It's like there's some twinned version of his brother, in this place Dean never knew existed. All these secrets he's been hoarding, this other person he's been. These wants that make him a stranger.

He goes back home with stuff for lunch around noon. Sam's reading, in the bedroom. "Got pb&j or grilled cheese," Dean calls, down the shotgun kitchen through the thin-carpeted hall, and Sam calls back, "I'm not hungry," which is a goddamn shit of a lie. He grows like an inch a day, he's never not hungry. Dean braces his hands on the counter and counts to five, in his head. He puts the bread away, and puts the cheese in the fridge. He goes into the living room and turns on the TV and it's college football, which is boring as hell, but it fills the apartment with noise. He wishes Dad were home. He wishes he were hunting.

The Huskies lose. Sam hasn't come out of the room, as far as Dean can tell. He's had—four beers? He looks at the table. Five. It's getting toward dark and it's raining, a-fucking-gain, and Dean's still wearing his jacket and his boots and his ears are cold, because the heater in here sucks, and he's shredded the label of the beer everywhere, everywhere. He brushes it off his knees and that just means it's gonna get ground into the shit-brown carpet, but—who cares. He's got other things on his mind.

He gets the last beer out of the fridge. Should've bought more. "Got some spare cash," he says, to the dark hall. There's a halo of light around the half-closed bedroom door. "Thinking pizza for dinner."

Silence.

Dean pushes the beer bottle against his forehead. "C'mon, Sam. It's not going to kill you to prefer pepperoni or sausage. Just say something."

"Doesn't matter," is the response.

Dean squeezes his eyes closed, slams the bottle down to the counter. It's four steps to the bedroom and the door flies open under his palm. "Just fucking say," Dean says, and Sam's looking at him with big eyes, curled up on the twin bed with his back up against the wall, books spread open all around him. Homework, of course. "Just say it, okay? What do you want?"

Sam stares at him. "I don't care! Get—whatever, pepperoni. Jeez, what's up with you?"

"Sure you don't want sausage?" Dean says, kind of nasty, and Sam frowns, shakes his head. Goddamn it. Dean drags a hand over his face, sags against the door frame. He's—a little dizzy. Oh—okay, so maybe he should've eaten, sometime since this morning. "Damn it, Sam," he says, his stomach twinging.

"What?" Give him this—maybe he's sneaking around, maybe he's lying about half his life, but Sam doesn't shrink back from an argument. He's still in his pajamas. He shoves his notebook away, lifts his chin. "What?"

"Been doing some reading," Dean says, and watches Sam's face scrunch disbelievingly. "Rearviewmirror? You don't even like cars."

It's weirdly satisfying to watch Sam blanch. He's been so unaffected the last little while it's almost a relief to get a real reaction. His mouth parts, his eyes go big. He stares at Dean in total silence except the rain drumming on the roof, and then he says, "That's—private."

"Not that private," Dean says. "You're putting shit on the internet for any asshole to read, Sam. It's not a pretty princess diary with a sparkly lock."

Sam's face is white. He licks his lips, his back rigid against the wall. "How did you—you never—"

"I know how to use a friggin computer," Dean says, and watches Sam close his eyes. "So? Got a lot to say to a bunch of strangers. Might as well say it to me. I mean, I'm your brother, right? Family."

It comes out hard but his voice cracks, on the last word. He swallows and some of the anger dissipates. Sam's jaw flexes and he tucks his hands behind his neck and his knees drag in, like defense. Like he needs defense. Against Dean. Like it's Dean who's wrecking things.

Dean's legs go out from under him. He sits down. Right there, in the doorway to the bedroom, the frame hard against his spine. The rain's loud and he doesn't—what is there to say? "You should've told me."

That's really it. Sam looks at him. Disbelief. "How?" he says, and Dean tips his head back against the wall, looks at the popcorn ceiling, says, "I don't know, it's not my damn secret. But you should've."

"Yeah, that would've gone great," Sam says, sarcastic.

Silence. The rain. Dean drags his hand over his face again, clears his throat. "So. You're—queer." For some reason it seems like the simplest thing to start with.

Sam snorts. "I'm not, like, jerking off to JC Chasez," he says, bitter.

"Who?" Dean says, but shakes his head. "God, whatever. Jesus, Sam, I can't—don't talk about you jerking off. You're not—you don't date chicks, either. Ever. So you're—"

"I don't know," Sam says. Kind of firm. Dean closes his eyes to not look at him. "I don't know, okay? But that's not what—" Pause, while he drags in a breath that's audible across the room. Dean curls over, his forehead between his knees. It's too big to hear. Sam blows out air. "You read the whole thing?"

Frail. Cobweb soft, like if Dean breathed too hard it'd break. Dean folds his hands over his head. "I read the whole thing," he says.

"Don't—" Sam says, quick, and cuts himself off. Dean can't stand it—he looks, peeking up, and Sam's made himself small, there at the head of the bed. His mouth is small, his lips between his teeth—his eyes, big and scared. "Dean. I wouldn't—I swear. I wouldn't—"

"Kiss me?" Sam flinches like from a raised fist, when Dean's all the way over here. Dean licks his lips, dropping his hands so they dangle useless between his knees. "Or, what. Leave? Either way it's pretty fucked up, for me, Sam."

"Oh my god," Sam says, very quietly, and—christ. Looks like he's gonna cry.

"Sam," Dean says, and no matter how pissed he is, that's not—Sam fights back. Sam always fights back, he's frickin' annoying that way. He's not supposed to crack like this. Dean rolls up to his knees and Sam's looking away, neck craned unnaturally so that his face is pointed at the broken-blind-covered window so that Dean can't see, but Dean can—Dean can see his teeth so hard in his lip that the skin there's white, and his chest shaky, and his fist clenched in the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms, and, and—"Sammy," Dean says, again, and Sam's eyes close and there is—shit, shit, a tear, running fast out of the corner of his eye, streaking down his cheek so quick that if Dean could blink he might've missed it.

Dean's gut hurts, like he took a punch from a werewolf and he's gonna be bruised for the next three weeks. He doesn't have anything to say to make it better, not when it's this screwed up. This isn't Sam bitching about Dad or whining about crossbow practice or pouting about a move. Sam's been thinking about this for two years and he's managed to talk about it with people, online at least. Dean's coming at it with a week's slow raw realization and he doesn't know how to make it—not how it is.

He gets over to the bed, on his knees. Sam won't look at him, like the view of nothing through the blinds is the most fascinating thing in the world. There's a wet shining trail, down his cheek to his jaw. A damp circle on his t-shirt. Dean says, because he can't think of what else to say, "You really—you want—" and even then, can't articulate it. A kiss. Sex. A kind of close they've never been. He says, slower, "Is that why you want to go?"

Sam drags in air. Sounds like it hurts.

Dean drags his teeth over his lip. There are books all over the bed. He pushes them away, and Sam's notebook. He pushes up—knee on the mattress, and sinking down to his hip, and Sam's close enough to touch, now, and he jerks and looks at Dean like he's an alien. A ghost. Something that can't be real, only they both know that it is. Dean touches Sam's hand, fisted there in his pants, and Sam jerks again, his stiff shoulders back against the wall, and he shoves Dean's hand but no matter the crazy growth spurt Sam's been having Dean's still stronger, still has the reach—he grips Sam's wrist and yanks, gets him off balance, and then he's right inside Sam's grapple and has his hand flat on Sam's chest, pressing him harder against the paint, and Sam stares at him wild-eyed with his breath both fast and deep and Dean leans forward and presses their mouths together. It's a bad kiss—he barely hits on center, and Sam freezes—but there's the touch of warmth, Sam's lips—soft—and the shocked air hitting Dean's face—and Dean drags in breath through his nose and resettles, fits his mouth to Sam's soft open lower lip and makes it better, his head tipping, easy pressure there, just the faintest amount of suction so that when he pulls back a millimeter there's a little smooch sound, and that makes it—real.

He kissed his little brother. No getting around that. No pretending. His nose brushes Sam's cheek and Sam's not really breathing, and Dean—fuck, Dean does it again, pressing in and letting Sam's wrist go so that he can get a hand on Sam's jaw, tipping him so it's good. Sam makes a tiny noise and breathes out hard against his mouth, and when Dean kisses him for a third time Sam meets it, his lips moving finally out of that still shock, his fingertips brushing Dean's arm all careful, his heart pounding under Dean's hand.

Dean pulls back. An inch between them—not enough but all Dean can seem to manage. He swallows. His lips are tingling, and his eyes are closed and he doesn't want to open them, and his fingers—jesus, he's got them tangled in Sam's hair like Sam's some easy hot chick he's picked up at a dive bar, pressing her up against the wall in the bathroom hallway, knowing how the night's going to end.

"We can't," Sam says. Sam. His voice, steady and familiar. "We—Dean. This isn't—"

"No," Dean says, god knows why. He pulls back, though—pulls his hand out of Sam's hair, stands up. His legs wobble for a second. He has to open his eyes and so he drags in a breath and does, and Sam's sitting there with his shoulders high and tight and his hands fisted on his knees and his hair a little fluffed on one side, a little screwy. His mouth parted and his eyes—fixed on Dean's face, looking all over it. Like he's memorizing a trail map, for an unknown stretch of land.

"I'm drunk," Dean says. It's not true. Five beers—he's buzzed but he knows what he's doing. Sam doesn't contradict the lie. "Acting nuts. Sorry, Sam. I—"

"I want pepperoni," Sam says. His face isn't white anymore. He's flushed, dark pink in the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes are dark, wide and fixed on Dean, and there's still that shining trail on his cheek but it's drying. "Order from that place on Melrose. Garlic knots, too."

Dean backs up a step, pins on a smile. "What, you think I'm dumb? Like I wouldn't get knots," he says, and Sam doesn't smile but he nods, brief and fast like Dean's picking up a play in some con they're running, and Dean snaps a finger-gun at Sam—fuck, what is he doing—and turns out of the room, says—"Okay, dinner in thirty minutes or less or your money back!" and walks through the kitchen and out into the living room and out the front door, and closes it behind himself, and leans against it and stares blindly out into the rain, the setting sun still sparking some tiny golden bit of light out to the west, past the horizon.

He licks his lips and tastes salt, not his own. Sam's hand, on his arm—skimming, brushing light through the thickness of his jacket. Like he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to really touch. He drags in the rain-soaked air. He'll drive, to get the pizza. He'll drive, and he'll give Sam time. When he gets back he'll offer Sam half the pie and a beer, and there'll be some movie on TV that Sam probably won't want to watch, but maybe he will. They'll be—brothers. Dean knows how to do that. It feels like it's all he's got left.

*

It's—not easy but it's not all that hard, either. There's a brutal week where Dean's torn between walking on eggshells and wanting to wrestle Sam to the ground, and Sam goes perfectly silent—not pouty withdrawal or furious silent-treatment, but as still and quiet as though he's not even there. Dean can't bear it. It takes Dad coming home to break it—Dad, and christ, when he calls to say he's coming back Dean completely freezes and his mind fills up with—with—but then Sam looks at him and takes the phone out of his hand and says, his mouth's full—what's up? and after that it's like things… settle. It's not okay but it's livable.

rearviewmirror.livejournal.com goes quiet. Dean checks, occasionally, over the months that pass. When he's looking up some random piece of lore for Dad, when they're hunting alone and Sam's stuck back at whatever shitty hotel they stored him at, and Dean's on research duty because Sam's in high school and can't answer his phone. Dean types in the address and checks, and it's still that last post. Anyone else going through this? He hopes, sincerely, not. It's too fucked up for anyone else to bear. At least the Winchesters have practice.

They run PT. Sam does his homework. Dean watches TV. Hunting focuses things. There's stuff to kill and people to save and things aren't falling apart any more than they ever are, so—Dean deals.

Sam leaves.

*

It's January. Dean's in a library, alone. Dad's working a job north of Boise and he sent Dean down to Wendover to take care of a haunting, and Dean's done and Dad called and said two more days and there's this raw wounded spot where Dean should be able to turn, to look over his left shoulder and say—but it's empty there, and so he's in a library.

Sam started posting again, when he got to school. Small stuff. That he was sorry for the long break. That he'd ended up at a university after all. The hamburger girl doesn't respond anymore but the Nine Inch Nails boy does: thought you were dead, he says, no-caps like he's so goddamn cool, and Sam says, Just working some stuff out.

Sam likes his professors. He plays pick-up soccer with some of the guys from his dorm. His roommate snores. He doesn't listen to music at all. There's nothing—real. There's none of the sadboy shit, nothing about what he's feeling, no pondering of what it all means. He picks up a few different Livejournal friends, clearly people from his classes, who crack jokes about Ancient Civ and Linear Algebra. He joins a community focused around civil rights litigation. He might as well not be there.

Dean reads it all. If Sam's not calling then Dean's gonna check in whatever way he can. When Sam left Dean made sure he had at least one good knife in his bag and he said don't forget the salt when Sam hiked his backpack onto his shoulder, and Sam snorted and looked at him like a gunshot but he nodded, and Sam's not dumb, he knows how to take care of himself, but. Dean's the big brother, here. He's within his rights, to check and make sure baby bro's not being a dumbass.

January and it's fuckin cold, in Wendover, but the library's too warm. Dean keeps his coat on anyway, scrolling through the comms. He's kinda turning into an expert, navigating the pages, recognizing the shorthand. He hasn't made an account. Doesn't know why he would. He finishes his scan of the comms Sam's part of and doesn't really see any relevant posts, and no comments from rearviewmirror that he can find. He chews his cheek and goes back to the main page, thinking—okay, he can get out of here. Beer and dinner, and finding a motel that doesn't look toxic, and waiting for Dad to call. Not the worst night he could have. He refreshes, one last time, just in case, and there's a new post. He reads:

January 23

Done with class for the week. Feeling restless.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

lawblog69: we should go out!!

bloodofreptile: go get laid

Dean snorts. At least the NIN kid is consistent. He refreshes again and there's a new comment.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

    rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

He takes a breath, sitting there at the computer bank. It's quiet in here—the good people of Wendover aren't much for the library, apparently—but he feels like someone's right there. Like he could reach out and touch, when it's just words on a glowing screen. Still—the speed of the comment—Sam's… sitting there. Right now, on a computer in Palo Alto, looking at the same thing Dean is.

He refreshes.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

    rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

        bloodofreptile: still holding onto that? very hufflepuff. how long has it been?

              rearviewmirror: my whole life

Dean presses his knuckles to his lips, hard enough that he can feel his teeth pressing back. Jesus, Sam. He refreshes—another comment, from coppertonebuttgirl, agreeing about the restlessness but apparently she's off to a date with her boyfriend, and Sam responds and says sounds nice :), and jesus, Sam, Dean thinks. Off to have the big college experience like he wanted so bad, off to have that new shiny life, and after five months away he's still all sadsack, still not actually living.

He clicks the comment box. He types, unaccountably mad. He hits submit, and gets a warning that it'll show as anonymous. He waits, and refreshes, and reads:

Anonymous: Just go hit a bar. Live a little. Thought you were supposed to be smart, college boy.

     rearviewmirror: Since when does smart have anything to do with it?

Dean rolls his eyes. He can hear Sam's voice saying it, nettled and trying to sound like he isn't.

Anonymous: You're on here mooning after Cindy Crawford when Claudia Schiffer and Tyra Banks are out there in the real world. Have a beer, get over it.

A pause. Dean has to refresh twice. The librarian walks by with her cart of books and gives him a distracted smile, and Dean's so addled he doesn't actually process and then return it until she's already gone.

rearviewmirror: I don't think it's something you get over. It mattered. It still does, to me.

Dean chews his thumbnail. Sam's face, turned unnaturally, looking out that window at the rain. The wet track, on his cheek.

Anonymous: Matters enough that you're never going to move on?

    rearviewmirror: I didn't think you could move on from family. Maybe I was wrong.

The air goes out of Dean's chest. He turns away from the computer, entirely, swiveling the chair so he's looking out at the lonely bookshelves. He flexes his jaw and swivels back around. Hits refresh.

The thread of comments is gone. He blinks, confused. He doesn't think he was hallucinating—been a while, since he was that tired and drunk. But—oh—in its place, a single comment, under the brief conversation with the NIN kid:

rearviewmirror: Tell me if it's you.

Dean licks his lips. He closes out of the browser, picks up his notepad and keys. On the steps outside it's cold, cold, fucking cold, and this town is bleak. He walks down to the Impala, waiting there in the iced-over grey snow, and braces his hands on the hood, and blows out a long purling winter-dragon breath, and then fishes his phone out of his pocket. Another new phone, but he's got Sam's number memorized, and he almost calls before he chickens out. If it's not actually wanted—he imagines that conversation and he's just not constitutionally capable, right now, of facing how goddamn awkward it'd be.

He texts: It's me.

The response, after seconds: Where are you?

The shitty part of Utah. That's saying something. Easier, like this. Like it's not him kicking down a doorway right into Sam's head.

I don't have class tomorrow.

Could be random, if he didn't know who he was talking to. Dean leans his elbows on the hood of the car, looking at the little box of black-and-white text. He chews his lips and thinks. Before he can respond, another message:

I don't want to move on.

Dean tips his head enough that he's pressing the edge of the phone into his forehead. His fingers are cold. He sniffs, his nose dripping in the icy weather, and types, careful to make sure he gets it right: I'm nine hours away.

Less, if he goes over 100 in the boring parts of Nevada, and if he doesn't stop at all for a catnap.

Stop in Reno for a nap. You get weird when you drive all night. Text me when you're close.

Dean works his jaw, standing there in the cold. He's got nothing to do, for two days. He's got most of a tank of gas. He's got—nothing. Nothing. He gets in the car, and he drives.

It's only 9:30 when he gets to Reno. There were parts of Nevada where he drove very, very fast. He pulls into a truck stop, gets more gas and parks out near where the semis are lined up, the drivers early-birding the night away. Still cold here but less so. He twists around so his back's to the passenger door and looks out the driver window at the neon signs of the truck stop, the cars going in and out of the gas islands. He ate a little but his stomach was all twisted up and he couldn't get much down. A beer would go easier but he doesn't want to be drunk. Well. He does. This is insane. This is—completely stupid.

He pulls out his phone, looks at it. Dials and holds it to his ear, and it rings three times—long enough for him to change his mind four times—before there's an answer, and Sam's voice says, "Dean?"

His voice. Dean closes his eyes, tips his head back against the cold glass of the window. "Long time, no speak," Dean says. It feels rusty.

Sam's quiet for a second, on the other end. "Not really, though. Right?"

"I guess so. It's not the same." Dean listens to the little acknowledging sound Sam makes. There's silence again, for seconds that he counts—one and then two and then three. He listens to the cooling tick of the engine, through it, and then says, before he loses his nerve, "I shouldn't come. Right? This is nuts."

There's some noise, staticky. Like something passed over the mic on Sam's phone. After a beat, Sam says, "You should do what you want to do."

"Oh, should I," Dean says, and it comes out sarcastic, but he doesn't really mean it to be mean. Sam doesn't take the bait, staying quiet on the other end, and Dean opens his eyes again, watching a huge truck muscle past the gas island, watching the normal world go by. He rubs his eye. "I've been—it's been weird, Sam."

Understatement, but he doesn't know why he says it. That kind of stuff isn't for Sam to worry about.

"Go to sleep," Sam says, instead of responding. "An hour or something, just enough so you won't drive off the road. Text me when you're close."

Same thing he said before. "It'll be like three in the morning when I'm close," Dean says, and Sam says, "I'll be awake," and then the line disconnects, and Dean's left there alone again on the bench seat, but it—feels different.

He sort of sleeps, sort of doesn't. He's got a talent for going to bed wherever and whenever he has to—on spare tires and on forest floors and in a closet, once, with a propane tank as his pillow—but his brain won't shut up. He drifts in and out, for the hour Sam asked him for, and then he gets out of the car and goes into the 24-hour c-store and buys a big cup of coffee and a Hershey bar, and points the hood west, and follows the yellow dashed line home.

He texts from a gas station outside Sacramento. Sam texts back in less than a minute with an address. Dean glances at his map of California and responds: 45 minutes, and it's more like thirty when he pulls up to the—yeah, the motel, and he makes a sound that's sort of like a laugh except it doesn't feel like one. He turns into the parking lot and the headlights flash the building, and there, sitting on the sidewalk with his back to a pillar.

Dean parks. Sam has his arms folded over his knees, but he unfurls, stands. Dean gets out of the car and Sam's—jesus, ten feet away, his face totally visible under the streetlight. His hair's a little longer. "Did you get taller?" Dean says, and Sam huffs, his head ducking, and—fuck everything else, it's Dean's little brother, and he drags Sam into a hug, folding his arms over Sam's shoulders even if he has to lift on his toes a little to do it. Sam goes stiff for half a second, but he hugs back, and Dean turns his face in, Sam's hair in his nose like it always is, and feels him—warm, and safe. All Dean ever wanted for him, pretty much.

"You have to get the room," Sam says, when they pull apart. At Dean's eyebrows he shrugs, the corner of his mouth curled. "What? My scholarship doesn't include seedy rent by the hour stuff."

"Oversight much?" Dean says, but he goes in, and he gets a room. Two queens, because that's what the tired miserable little desk clerk says they have available. Means Dean doesn't have to think about other possibilities, and it means that when he dangles the keys off his finger and Sam half-smiles at him, when they've walked down the cold sidewalk side by side, when Dean opens the door and finds the different motel room, same as the first—Sam sits on one bed, and Dean sits on the other, and they look at each other, and it's like it's two years ago and they're just two kids, waiting for Dad to come home.

Sam is taller. Taller than Dean, now. His hair long enough to fall in his eyes, which it does constantly. Newish sneakers, and old jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt, and a denim jacket over the top of that. Not warm enough for the Bay in winter, but Dean bites his tongue before he says anything about it.

"How are your classes?" he says, instead.

Sam's cheek sucks in, like he's chewing it. After a second he says, "You don't want to talk about my classes, man." His head tips. "Anyway. You read about it, right."

It was a mistake not to stop for beer. Dean needs something to do with his hands. "Your algebra professor sounds like an asshole," he says.

Makes Sam smile before he ducks his head, looking down at his lap. "I thought—" He swallows, audibly. He shakes his head, his hair falling down and hiding his face. "Only reason I started posting again was that I wondered if you might still—if you'd check."

It's quiet, honest. Dean hasn't talked to Sam in person for half a year and he's off-balance. Expecting Sam to snark, to be dismissive, to roll his eyes. Small hours of the morning, maybe he's too tired not to be honest. Maybe he's growing up. Dean's not prepared for that.

Sam looks up at him when Dean's silent for too long. His teeth dig into the corner of his mouth and he drags his hand through his hair, gets it off his forehead. "I said I didn't want to move on. You know what I meant, right?"

Dean huffs. "Yeah, I'm not an idiot, Sam," he says, and Sam's eyes tighten. Dean leans back on his hands, tips his head back on his shoulders to look at the ceiling. "Thought this was the whole point of getting out. Getting away, making a whole new life. Being someone else."

"I'm still me," Sam says, unseen. "And it wasn't the whole point. I want a life. That part—whatever, that doesn't matter right now. But I never thought the other thing was going to go away."

He stands up, so Dean can see him. Dean looks at him down his nose, and Sam's—god. Tall. That keeps being his first thought. Tall, and maybe not a stranger, even if he's real damn strange. Sam steps closer, in the little space between the two beds, chewing his lip again. He's gonna make a sore there. "Dean," he says, and Dean raises his eyebrows in response. "You came."

"Yeah," Dean says, rueful. "Well. I'm Cindy Crawford."

Sam's face ripples—a frown, surprise—and then a huffed little laugh—and then he steps between Dean's knees and touches his chest, his jaw. Leans down, slow, telegraphing like they're practicing a fight, and Dean stays exactly where he is, leaned back on his hands, and Sam's mouth touches his—softly. Not hesitant. Dean lets his eyes close and feels it. Puff of air against his face as Sam lets out a tense breath and then another kiss, the damp inside Sam's lip catching against Dean's, and Dean kisses back then, reaching up and getting Sam's jaw, his jacket, fisting the denim and pulling Sam closer. There's a stagger—Sam's knee landing on the bed by Dean's hip, and Dean gets an arm around his lower back and kisses him again, tasting him. Salt, and when Dean kisses him again and presses his mouth open, licks inside, there's coffee-taste, Sam's tongue—slick, tentative—he stayed up, to wait for Dean—his kiss clumsier now, like he doesn't have much practice.

Dean pulls back a few inches. Sam's half-draped on him, his weight nearly in Dean's lap. His eyes are dark but big with surprise, like he didn't expect Dean to go with it. "Sammy," Dean says, and Sam—shudders, his hands closing hard around Dean's shoulders. Okay, Dean thinks, filing that away. He drags a thumb over Sam's jaw, where he's got a barely-there prickle of stubble. "What are we doing?"

Sam shakes his head, licks his lips. "This," he says, holding the side of Dean's neck. "This."

They peel Sam's jacket off, and then Dean's. Sam's still in that hoodie, soft black, and Dean gets his fingers just under the hem of it, barely grazing Sam's stomach, kissing him again—tangled up close on the edge of the bed, Sam's thigh slung over his. Sam keeps touching his face, his chest. His amulet, swinging forward between them when he urges Sam down to his back on the mattress, a knee between Sam's and his hand still there on Sam's belly. Sam grips the amulet and breathes out hot against Dean's face and lifts up for another kiss, which Dean gives him easy, and it's—god, it's good. The lights on, the room warm, Sam wanting underneath his hand. His mouth, slick and open, learning how to press back, how to give as good as he's getting. Dean kisses his cheekbone, his jaw, settles his hand flat on Sam's stomach to ground him, says, "Sammy, you've done this before, right?" Sam hitches breath, nods. Dean sorta laughs, lifts up so he can actually see Sam's expression. "More than once?"

"Twice," Sam says, and when Dean raises his eyebrows he frowns, vaguely indignant. "Jenny Morrison, just before graduation." He licks his lips. "And—a guy. After student orientation, here."

"Playing the field, huh?" Dean says. There's no reason it should make his stomach go molten hot. He rubs Sam's stomach, feels the rise of his breath. "You like it?" Sam nods, again. "What'd you do?"

Sam's cheeks are dark, brick-red. He licks his lips again and Dean ducks back in to kiss him, knocking his mouth open, tasting inside. Earns himself a small deep noise and Sam's hand sliding through his hair where it's too short to grab. He nudges Sam's nose and sits up, peeling off his overshirt. "C'mon. What'd you do? Didn't put that up on your journal, how am I supposed to know?"

"It was a rush party," Sam says, looking at him. He pulls his t-shirt off over his head, making sure his amulet stays put, and Sam blinks heavily, his lips parted. Jeez—it's weird. Hot. Sam wants him, Dean thinks, and it sends a rush of blood south. "He's—uh. Pre-med, smart."

"Not looking for his biography, Sammy," Dean says, and spreads his hands on Sam's hips, pushing up. The hoodie moves, the t-shirt underneath rucks up—Sam's pale here but still that faint all-over tan, darker than Dean's skin. He licks his lips. "What'd you do? Jerk each other off?"

Sam nods, again, his mouth open. God, Dean can imagine it. On some dorm-room bed, their heads leaned together, Sam's mouth open just like this—panting, his hand fumbling down—fuck, fuck it's hot, Sam nervous and into it and trying, making sure. "You liked it, huh?" Dean says, stroking his thumbs over Sam's bare belly.

"Yeah," Sam says, thin on not enough air, his knee drawing up. "But I—I thought about—when you kissed me—" and Dean kisses him again, groaning. Jesus, Sam's gonna kill him. Thinking about some shitty nervous freaked-out kiss when another guy's got his tongue in Sam's mouth. Sam grabs his shoulders, sits up, and Dean accommodates him easy, letting Sam touch him back—Sam's hands sliding down his chest, around to his ribs, grasping. "Dean," he says, panting.

"Let's get this off, huh?" Dean says, pulling, and Sam yanks the hoodie off in a second flat, his hair all ruffling up behind it. The shirt comes with it and there's just Sammy's bare smooth skin, that same pale tan all over. Small brownish nipples, slim muscles. His body. Dean dips and kisses his bare shoulder, licking there, biting, and Sam's nails dig into his ribs so he does it again, swinging a leg over so he's straddling Sam's lap, taking his time. He scrapes his teeth over the swell where Sam's collarbone dips into the arch of his trap, and Sam grips his neck, his back arching. He's hard. Shit, he's nineteen, he has to be hard. Dean slides his fingers down Sam's belly to his belt, tucking under the waist of his jeans, but Sam grips his wrist, then, groaning, saying—"Wait—wait—"

Dean drops his head to Sam's shoulder, groaning back. "We waited," he says, but Sam's hand is on his shoulder, pushing him back, making him look. "What?"

Sam's pink. "Have you—with a guy?" Dean rocks back but Sam's holding him close, looking all over his face. "Dean. Have you—"

"Yeah," Dean says, and watches Sam's ears go red. Sam doesn't need to know when, but it was all in the last year. Three dudes, hookups that were way too easy. They were good—turns out that Dean just likes sex, any way someone will give it to him—and he learned what it felt like to have a dick not his own in his hand, how it felt to slip a cock into his mouth and make a man groan. He hadn't thought about Sam while he was doing it, not really, but he's thinking about it now, and Sam's eyes have dropped, his lips between his teeth. Jealous? Dean smiles while Sam can't see and breaks Sam's hold on his wrist, and slides his hand down, and cups the crotch of Sam's jeans where he's swelling them out. Sam jerks, eyes flying open. "Means I know what I'm doing. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam breathes, and then it's—undoing his belt, and unzipping, and then—god, he's still got his sneakers on. Dean backs off and kicks off his boots, deliberately, and Sam blinks at him hot-eyed with his chest heaving and his jeans half-open looking like a friggin porno, but then he gets with the program, and the shoes thud to the shitty carpet and then they're practically racing, undressing, and when Dean kicks his boxers off to the side Sam's—naked, half on the bed, staring at him. Dean stares back, circling a hand around Sam's ankle. God, to look at him, in the lamplight. Long legs, hairier on the shins and lightly furred on the thighs, and a decent dark bush around a dick that's—jesus, that dick. Big, bigger than Dean's, bigger than—Dean licks his lips and looks up with an effort and Sam's staring right back at him, focused between his legs, his mouth parted. "Like what you see?" Dean says, and Sam doesn't answer, just reaches for him, and Dean crawls up the bed and settles on his elbow above Sam with their legs brushing bare, Sam's dick hot against his hip, and Sam kisses him with both hands on his face, his thigh dragging up against Dean's, his lips almost trembly.

Dean soothes a hand down Sam's ribs but Sam's—fuck. Shaking. They haven't even done anything. "Sammy," Dean whispers, between Sam's needing brief kisses, and Sam shakes his head and kisses him again and then ducks his head down, his nose brushing under Dean's jaw. Dean pulls Sam closer—tips, so they're on their sides—and pulls Sam's leg over his hip, pushes in, and—ah, shit, shit that feels good, Sam's big dick brushing in against his, dragging heavy and hot. "Oh," says Sam, small, and Dean slips his hand further and grips Sam's ass, the muscle tight and small—pulls in, and pulls again, encouraging, and Sam grips Dean's shoulder underhand tight enough to hurt but follows, pushing in with the rhythm Dean's urging. He's breathing fast, hot against Dean's throat, but he's got it—humping in, meeting Dean, making their dicks slide, his cockhead smearing wet against Dean's belly. Dean hums, kissing Sam's temple where he can just reach it, just enjoying the—insane way it feels. He lets Sam's ass go and Sam keeps going—good, good—and he licks his fingers sloppy, and reaches down between them, and for the first time he gets a grip on Sam's dick, feels the heft of it. Sam makes a sound like he's been shot and Dean says shh, easy, slicking his hand down to the base, squeezing hard as he pulls back up, and Sam makes another gulping strange sound, his thigh clutching hard around Dean's hip, his hand crushing Dean's lower back in closer. "That feel good?" Dean says, and Sam—comes. Fast, humping in, spurting up Dean's belly and his own, the slick getting all over Dean's dick, hot and wet, the sensation enormous. Dean squeezes him through it, knowing, and Sam humps in again and grabs his ass, nails digging in. Dean tips his head back, feeling it. God, it's good. Sam. His brother.

He swallows. His dick's throbbing, wanting more, feeling left behind. Sammy shudders and Dean licks his lips, pushes Sam back so his shoulders hit the bed. He flops—boneless, shocked—and Dean drags his hands over Sam's ribs, frames his hips. His dick is still big, flushed and wet, his balls clutched up high, and Dean licks his lips and says, "Okay," to no one, and leans down, and gets Sam's dick in his mouth.

A shock, Sam's body practically lifting off the bed. "What," he says, somewhere Dean can't see him—"What are you, oh—" and Dean thinks, oh, what if no one has done this? What if Jenny just opened her legs and she and Sam humped awkward and teenage in some backseat—what if pre-med only wiped his handful of Sam's jizz on the mattress and passed out—what if Dean's the first one, here, opening his jaw wide, careful of his teeth, slicking down, getting the whole fat length of it in his mouth. Only—he can't, fuck, Sam's too big. He fists the base, pulls off, spits and slicks the wet down. When he glances up Sam's up on his elbows, staring, and Dean grins at him, jerks it again, swallows. He can taste Sam's jizz, leftover from coming before. "Hang on," Dean says, and goes back down, letting the head bust his lips open, slicking tight down to his fist, dragging his tongue hard against the underside, suckling easy. Sam takes his statement as an order and grips his head, his shoulder, his hips cringing up into Dean's mouth, and Dean heaves in air, feels Sam firming up again, thick and needing and good.

He's only done this a few times but he—shit, he liked it. Likes it better the other way around, of course, but like this—his dick pressing into the bed, throbbing—Sam splitting open his mouth—yeah, it doesn't exactly suck. He bobs up and down, making sure to pay special attention to the soft ridge at the head, and Sam's making insane noises, now, up above him, petting his head and his shoulders and gripping, trying to shove up. Dean leans into his hip so he can't, fists his dick, pulls off gasping and licking his lips. Sam's still staring, down the length of his torso, and Dean jerks him through the goopy mess they're making—his spit, Sam's precome, what Sam's already come. "You like it?" Dean says, and Sam—rolls his eyes, the little shit.

"You're smug," Sam says, and Dean raises his eyebrows and says, "You're damn right I am," and lets Sam's dick go and goes down, down, no fist in the way until Sam's dick hits the back of his throat and he gags—breathes through it—slurps up with tight lips and then goes right back down, getting his throat used to it, learning the feel of this massive, awesome dick. Sam moans, pushes his hips up, and Dean lets him, rides it—lets Sam fuck up, lets him get a rhythm, like fucking—Sam, fucking his face—and Dean reaches down between his own legs and fists his own dick, finally, groaning in relief and making Sam shudder as the vibration rumbles through Dean's open throat. Sam grips his head with both hands, holding him down, and Dean drags in air through his nose and holds there, filled up with Sam and choking, spit flooding out of his open mouth—the world dark and just Sam's taste, his smell—and Sam makes a little sound—and Dean grunts and lifts off, breaks Sam's hold and crawls up his body, straddling his hips and dragging his dick against where Sam's is all sloppy-hot, dripping wet. Sam gasps up at him and grabs his hips, his ass, fucking up into him, and Dean grips both their dicks in two hands, fucking into the tight wet channel he's making for them both, and Sam pulls at his ass, spreading it, rocking his hips to help, moaning and looking helpless up into Dean's face, and Dean leans down and breathes against him and Sam still comes first, creaming them both, his dick flexing and twitching in Dean's grip, and Dean braces one slick hand on the bed and fists himself seriously, jerking fast, and Sam moans and kisses his jaw and pulls at his ass with those big hands, his fingers slipping low, dipping—and Dean jerks and spills, his belly seizing, his thighs clamping around Sam's hips, Sam's lips open and dragging wet against his throat, his fist gripping the bedspread so hard that his fingers cramp.

Sam's stroking his hips, repetitive and soft, when he's done panting. Dean swallows, shifts his weight. He's slumped on top of Sam, his face buried in Sam's shoulder. Wet between them, sliding, and he releases his dick and slips his sticky hand out, bracing on the bed enough to get some air between them. When he lifts up Sam's eyes are half-closed, but he focuses on Dean's face right away, and his hands stop their stroking and just squeeze, warm and tight. "You okay?" Sam says.

"My line," Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes again, squeezes again. Dean sits up more but Sam doesn't let go. "C'mon, we should clean up."

Sam's eyes tighten, just barely. He sits up, keeping his grip on Dean, and Dean rocks back but doesn't tip over. He gets a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep his balance and Sam says, steady, "Don't freak. Okay?"

"Who's freaking?" Their dicks are still pressed wetly together, though Dean's basically soft, now. Sam's still plump, thick. He swallows. "C'mon, we're gonna get cemented together," he says, and Sam's mouth purses but his grip goes light, and it gives enough room that Dean can lift off, get his feet under him. Jesus, there's enough jizz on him that it's rolling down his belly—he claps a hand to it before it can drop, smearing it over his abs. "You come like a geyser, dude," he says, not really complaining, but Sam's cheeks are red when he looks back up, and he feels—shit. He doesn't know.

He goes to the bathroom. Fluorescent light, pink-painted sink. He wets one of the five-cent washrags and wipes himself up, and he's not turned on anymore so his thought is mainly that it's just gross, and that bed's going to be wrecked, and also, what is he doing. What is he doing.

Sam's hand appears, reaching around him. He jumps. In the mirror behind him, Sam's tall, looking over his shoulder. Looking at Dean, even as he wets the other rag, cleans himself up. Dean chews the inside of his lip and can't really turn away. Sam's got red marks on his shoulder, where Dean was biting him.

"Stay," Sam says. He tosses his wet rag back into the sink and settles his hands on Dean's biceps, squeezing. When he steps forward his dick presses into the small of Dean's back and his chest is warm, damp. "Tomorrow at least. We've got the room. Stay."

"You want your dick sucked again?" Dean says, and that time it is mean and he did kind of mean it to be, and Sam's eyelids dip and his jaw clenches, but he only slips his hands away from Dean's arms to his ribs, holding him. It feels… Dean shakes his head. "Sam," he says, but there's not really anything that can go after it.

A big hand slides up and over, flattening on his breastbone. "It's not just this," Sam says, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror, and it makes Dean's cheeks go hot.

He covers Sam's hand with his. He shivers, for some reason. He says, "I should take a shower, I've been in the car all day," and Sam says, "Okay," and Dean takes a shower and Sam sits on the closed toilet, watches him through the clear curtain. Gives him a towel when he comes out. Takes his hips, when he's dry, and presses him to the tiled wall, and tips his head up, and kisses him clean.

Five in the morning, or later. There's a clean bed and Dean hasn't slept in a day. He lays down and Sam lays down with him, a few inches away until Dean relents and turns over, and Sam curls up behind him, holding on, his mouth against Dean's shoulder. There's going to be a call from Dad, at some point. Dean's going to have to meet him somewhere, because there's going to be something bad that needs killing. He can't stay. He's wired and tired, all at once.

"Sleep," Sam says, and Dean turns his head against the pillow, knows he will.

"Hey," he says, and Sam makes a quiet noise. "If you put this on your journal, maybe bloodofreptile will finally shut up about you getting laid all the time."

"His name is Dennis," Sam says, and Dean laughs, weirdly glad. Dennis. Yeah, that fits. "And this isn't going on the internet."

"Probably a good idea," Dean says, and Sam says, again, "Dude, go to sleep," and Dean tips back into Sam's warmth, and does, and it's the best sleep he's gotten in a year.

[jobean12-blog]

Top Shelf: Chapter 12-Bookaholics

Pairing: Bucky x reader (Bookshop/Bartender AU)

Word Count: 1,515

Summary: You and Bucky try to get the ball rolling and explain your idea to Sam and Nat all while having a little fun :)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Happy Monday! Thank you for all your continued amazingness! Love you all! If anyone hasn’t been to the High Line you can check out the website here It’s one of my favorite places in the city and really is that beautiful! I like taking you on a little tour of NYC through this story, it helps with how badly I miss my city (we are doing well though so one thing at a time right!) All the pictures I use in my moodboards are real photos of these places. Here is the link for attaboy  again in case you want to see that too. Thank you all for reading! Much love to you always ❤❤❤

Warnings: Fluff, some super light smut (mostly implied), flirting, romantic fluff :)

Previous Chapters

Chapter 1: Enchantment

Chapter 2: Cookie Crumble

Chapter 3: Sweet Anticipation

Chapter 4: Read Between the Limes

Chapter 5: Secrets on the Shelf

Chapter 6: Love Between the Covers *

Chapter 7: Love Lines & Soul Finds

Chapter 8: Drunk in Love *

Chapter 9: Pour it onto the Page

Chapter 10: Recipe for Love *

Chapter 11: The Pages in Between 

When you awake the next morning it’s to the sound of more rain hitting the sky light, Bucky’s even breathing warm against your neck. You slowly shift and stretch to grab your phone. Seeing that it’s not even 6am you unlock the device and lazily search through your Pinterest, saving recipes that look worth trying.

“Looking up some new stuff to bake, sweetheart?” His voice is low and raspy from sleep and you love the sound, turning and smiling as he rubs his eyes. “I hope I didn’t wake you?” He curls his arms around your middle and pulls you against his chest, “nope.” You rest your head under his chin, closing your eyes and listening to the rain.

“How about we just stay up here forever. Forget work, read books, eat pizza…” You continue, your breath hitching as Bucky’s hand creeps under your shirt. “Listen to the rain…Bucky.” He rolls on top of you, gently pulling your shirt above your head. “What else?” he asks between kisses. “This. Lots and lots of this,” you whisper, shimming out of your shorts.

“How long do we have before you have to leave for work?” His fingers inch below the waistband of your underwear, easily slipping inside you. “Enough time,” is the last thing you say before his lips capture yours, swallowing your moans.

You find if hard to concentrate at work, every free minute your mind wanders to thoughts of the bookshop and your idea and to Bucky. It’s hard to shake the feeling of wanting to dive in headfirst and just do it, go all in. But you know you can’t. You must do this right. You shoot Bucky a quick text, ‘hey babe, want to talk to Sam this weekend? Maybe we can hang at the bar after closing and go over our idea?❤❤’

His reply seems enthusiastic and you smile. ‘Definitely!❤ I can’t stop thinking about it, especially being in the bookshop now. I keep imagining where we could put things and how to move things around and all that.😁😍’ Letting out a breath you let him know you’re excited and try to get back to work. The rest of the day is boring, and the work week drags, however, your nights with Bucky are anything but.

Saturday night rolls around and you and Nat stroll into the bar late. You wade through the crowd of already drunk people, searching for Bucky behind the bar. You spot him leaning against the back counter, his button down open at the front and his sleeves rolled up, the buttons looking like they may pop off any moment. His jeans do little to hide his thick thighs and perfect ass. Sam slides up next to him and you follow their line of sight over the bar to find two girls giggling at something they said.

“Hey Nat, I think our boys caught some attention,” you snicker, pointing their way. Nat raises her brow, whispering in your ear before heading to the other end of the bar. She makes her way to the bar, getting the attention of Peter. “Hey Pete, could you get y/n and I some shots please,” she asks, batting her eyelashes.

He nearly falls over, grinning wide at you both before looking nervously over at Bucky and Sam. “Uh, yea, sure of course ladies. What’ll it be?” You pretend to think it over for a second, “you know what, why don’t you pick for us? Whatever you think we’ll like. And make one for yourself so you can join us!” He simply nods, rushing off to make your shots. “Could he be any more adorable,” Nat whispers, giggling. “No. But could he be any more afraid of the boys?”

You both let out a laugh, having way too much fun and looking over at them. They’re staring, Sam with his arms crossed over his chest and Bucky with his hand on his hip, all four eyebrows raised in your direction. You smirk at Bucky just as Peter appears with the shots. “Thanks Pete, can’t wait to try these.” He lifts his shot up, clinking the small glasses with yours and Nat’s. You keep your eyes on Bucky while you down the cold liquid, slamming the glass down on the bar and licking your lips. “That was great, good choice, thanks.” Nat heartily agrees, sliding the glasses back and smiling at Sam.

“You’re welcome, can I get you anything else?” A large hand lands on Peter’s shoulder, Sam’s deep voice answering his question. “No, thanks Pete, we’ll take care of the girls from here on out.” You watch him visibly stiffen, shaking his head vigorously before practically running off in the other direction.

“No need to scare the pants off the kid, baby,” Nat coos, her smirk reappearing. “And it looks like you were handling those girls on the other side of the bar just fine from here.” Bucky and Sam look at each other and scoff before they start laughing. “So, that’s what this is about!? They’re Steve’s cousins that are visiting from out of town,” Sam says, eyeing Bucky before laughing again. “You were jealous!” Bucky adds, his eyes bright. “I love it.”

His smile is so wide you want to punch him and for a moment you and Nat are silent. “Well, how were we supposed to know! And we were only having a bit of fun! AND might I add, I was not jealous!” Nat chimes in, “but clearly you two were! Coming over here and scaring Peter half to death!” They start laughing again and Bucky leans over the bar to whisper in your ear, “I love you.” Sam throws Nat a wink and waves over the two girls who quickly head toward you. After introductions are made and everyone laughs over your misunderstanding you spend the rest of the night enjoying your new friends and having some drinks.

By the time 2am arrives and the bar closes you’re all tired but still willing to talk things over.  Sam cleans off a back table and grabs some waters. “Ok. Let’s hear this plan of yours,” he says, smiling brightly despite the time and fact that he’s been at work for almost 12 hours. Your heart swells. You love them all so much.

Before you start you reach into your bag, pulling out a small Tupperware. “Ok, but first, some cookies!” Sam whoops along with Bucky, two large hands grabbing for the container. Bucky looks to you, his mouth full of cookie, “go for it baby.” You hold his hand the whole time, laying out what you’ve come up with so far.

Nat’s smile never falters, and Sam’s excitement is clear as they listen to all you have to say. When you’re finally done, they naturally have questions which you and Bucky do your best to answer. “Listen, I think it could really work if you do it right. People love books. They love food. They love coffee. You just need to bring it all together,” Sam says, suggesting you set up a meeting with his friend Tony who owns several businesses and has a really good head for this stuff.

“He sounds like he could be a huge help,” you say excitedly. Sam nods, chewing his last cookie. “Oh definitely. He’s brilliant and honest and if anyone can help you navigate through this it’s him. And of course, us!” he adds, putting his arm around Nat. “Of course, guys! Did you tell Steve yet?” she asks. Bucky shakes his head no. “He and Peggy couldn’t make it tonight so they are going to stop by tomorrow, actually later today, so we can fill them in.”

When you finally leave the bar, it looks as if the sun is about to come up. “Summer is really here! I love how early the sun comes up these days. And how long it stays out,” you say, leaning into Bucky. He has his arm around your waist as the two of you walk slowly down the quiet street. Suddenly, he stops. “Hey, I have an idea. You wanna go on a little adventure before we head home?”

With a little squeeze to his middle you happily exclaim, “yes,” not needing to ask any questions as you follow him into the subway. About twenty minutes later you emerge back to the surface and see you’re at the High Line. “Oh, Bucky! I love it here!” He smiles down at you, walking up the steps. “I hope we can see what I want to see,” he whispers, holding your hand as you head down the path.

You reach a spot where you have a clear view of the water and Bucky sits on a bench, pulling you into his lap. It’s close to 6am and the sun is starting to peek over the horizon, the bright orange and pink hues dancing across the calm water. “Good morning,” he says against your ear, his eyes fixed on you instead of the rising sun. Turning your head, you kiss him softly. “It’s the most perfect morning.”

@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @azurika-writes @book-dragon-13 @buckys-broody-muffin @bucky-on-my-mind @bugsbucky @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose​ @hailmary-yramliah @hawksmagnolia @ikaris-whore @imgaril-lindru @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @marvelandotherfandomimagines @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @scarletsoldierrr @softpeachbarnes​ @the-wayward-robot​ @throwmyheartawayagain​ @flyawaybay​ @amandatar-06​ @nd1998sc​ @yansi1923​ @captainchrisstan​ @vherriepie​ @godofplumsandthunder​ @when-the-hell-is-bucky​ @fire-flv​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @irishflutiegirl​ @rinthehufflepuff​ @moonybarnes​ @nordlysinthewoods​ @inflxmes @lauratang​ @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines​ @buchanansebba​ @emilylyoness​ @curlyred2020 @kaosera​ @breezy1415​ @metal-armed-cuddly-dork​ @devynsdiary​

[thedoctornumber11]

A few updates

It’s been an interesting last few weeks and I had to tell everyone about a few things.  I used to do these types of posts all the time, but haven’t done them as much recently but I’ve had a few technical issues lately and wanted to make sure everyone was aware of a few things in case of issues.

1. I have not purposely unfollowed anyone in the last few weeks.  I mention this because every time I go to see anyone’s profile on the dash, it looks like I’m not following them even though I am.  While I don’t think this technical issue has actually caused any real unfollowing, I do want to address it.  If I’ve unfollowed you recently, it’s a mistake and I’d love to be aware of that mistake so I can re-follow :D

2. Another issue I’ve been having lately is with my thread tracker.  As of late, it hasn’t been telling me the dates threads have been replied to and all the information about threads every time I load it up.  Between this and the technical issue with Tumblr, I’m afraid of missing replies.  If I ever go a week without replying to anything, let me know!  Send me a link!  I always try to reply to everything within a week and if I don’t, that usually means I’ve missed it and need to know about it!  Anyone who is ever curious about threads with me by the way can find my thread tracker’s public view by clicking here.  It doesn’t have anything that hasn’t been replied to in a month or longer, so if you don’t find your thread on there that could also be a reason why, although feel free to continue those if you want to! :D

3. Likewise, if there’s anything on the dash you want to make sure is seen by myself (or anyone else you interact with for that matter) besides just threads, I’d suggest tagging them and/or messaging me/them directly.  Like I said, Tumblr is clearly having a few technical issues atm and I’m not entirely sure everything has been showing up on my dash.  In addition, work has started back up so I may not always get to browse through my entire dash.

4. I want to apologize for the large amount of ask memes, starter calls and open roleplays th is week and last.  While I know many actually enjoy this, some might see it as spamming the dash, which is not the intention.  I went a few months without much muse there and as of late, I’ve been starting to get it back, making me want lots of interactions and lots of different interactions with lots of different people!  It’s been pretty fun actually, but I know not everyone may appreciate this equally and wanted to apologize for it for that reason.  Starting on Monday, my blog should go back to just regular replies and reblogs from the dash as usual.

5. Speaking of those starter calls, if those actually do interest you, you can check out this starter call by clicking here, you can have me send you ask memes by clicking here and liking this starter call thing, and you can also check this out for me to reply to your open starters!  I also have a plotting call you can find by clicking here.  These are all open to everyone, not just new partners.

6. I’ve also been working on my blog a bit lately.  I’ve updated my rules (click here for those) and also my about page (click here for that).  Mostly minor things but still might be worth checking out.  I also updated my mun page (click here for that), although it was also mostly minor stuff, just updating for current year since it’s been a bit.  I also edited a few headcannons to be a bit more specifics (click here to see those) along with fixing my RP ideas page (click here for that) and lastly you can find all this and more on my navigation page (click here for that).  I’ll probably be updating a few more things over the next few weeks, but don’t expect a bit post about that lol.

7. So I’m planning on having another meme day here soon, probably Saturday, September 5th as long as I remember to do so!  For those who haven’t been here as long, once and a while (usually once every three or four months) I used to do these meme days, where I’d try and send in every single ask meme I see that day.  It’s obviously not entirely possible due to the only 10 asks per hour limit, but I do try.  I like to make sure people are aware so they can reblog some of their favorite memes so yeah, that’s a thing I’m somewhat planning.

8. The last thing I wanted to talk about, is how much I appreciate every single one of you!  I know I haven’t been super into RP the last few months and I’m not sure if that showed in the quality of my writing.  I know there were a few days where I didn’t get replies out at all, which is a bit unusual for me.  I want to thank you all for sticking with me!  You are all great and I enjoy every single person I’m currently RPing with or have RPed with in the last 6 months to a year!  I’ve tried to tag all of you in this post but may have missed a few because it’s a rather long list.  I would HIGHLY recommend you check out any of these blogs below the cut that you may find interesting!  There’s a lot of them there, but they are all fantastic and amazing and I enjoy every single last one of them!  These are really fantastic people and if anyone is trying to find more people to interact with, I’d suggest checking out this list!  I know a few of these are people I’ve just started interacting with and may not have even introduced myself to yet (don’t worry, I will) but even those blogs are worth checking out!  So yes, I’d recommend any of these lovely blogs!

@3-ls-and-an-h @amberdivine @amyriadofmuses @apocalypticxjumper @arkytiorthebadwolf @brightestxwitchx @detectiverickitubbs @docquinzel @everybodyelsedying @fullrangeofemotions @girlfrcmnowhere @handmethatstapler @hatsnpanties @hisbespokenpsychopath @ladies-of-time @meanxballerina @missysrehabilitation @mistakeiwontmaketwice @mistress-of-the-vine @notsoinnocentlittleangel @peggys-orders @qceensofkings @riverofserenity @sadiesawyer @scarletwitchrpblog @schwartzkatz @seesbetterfromadistance @sippingteafromabeaker @speedxandxnetflix @starfirechan @tchamblers @theiracademydaysareover @thepinkearthdefender @time-qxeen @timelrd @walkerofclouds @withinkandquill @withgutsandglory @xnxthinglastsfxrever @you-think-i-am-just-a-doll @physicsgoesballistic @sphinxsmuses @romxna @bxrningambitions @ask-poisonivy-pamelaisley @xtheimpossiblesoufflex @thetenthdoctor03 @birdonawiresara @jennymaltzurrak @speedxandxnetflix @melodyxriver @ineedmyfriendback @hellxraising @rositaespinosatwd @pi-jessicajones @unaugmentedmonkeyscantfly @heartonanoose @aequilibriium @molmorguemouse @kim-pxssible @his-unfaithful-companion @clara-oswin-forthe-win @detholmes @timedriving @wearenotthesameasyesterday @thebadtimewolf @velvetxspy @queenofthewarehouse @theamazonian-princess @fierylittleniece @missgwenstacy @onewonderouswoman @thegirlwhowaited-dw @gingersrockstheuniverse @usemyknowledge @kyberborne @superkarazorelofkrypton @dunbroch-lass @wonderofawoman @timexdancer @teamdeadpoolus @lost-rose-tyler @ruler-of-all-burgers-maya @madamromana @justice-driven @weaponsmasterxlightwood @xtimelxrd @spiderballet @never-enough-muses @0nlywateristheriver @askthegirldetective @ooswcld @mademoisellecerisenoire @baby-lucifcrd @elvira-macabre

[fforsythiaaa]

fic writer interview

I feel so honored to have been tagged by so many people whose writing I really admire: @wanderingbandurria, @quoththethestral, @swottypotter and @bubbebruja, and it’s been beyond fun reading everyone’s interviews! I am still such a baby when it comes to writing but it’s been one of the best things to happen to me in 2020 and I’m really grateful for the community and the amazing stories I get to experience!

Name: Mel (although Forsythia kind of makes me feel like a kindly victorian forest witch, so it’s your call)

Fandoms: wolfstarrr

Where you post: here on tumblr and on my ao3

Most popular one-shot: It appears to be A Cup Half Full Kind of Day, which I hoped would get me back in the swing of writing and turned out better than I expected!

Most popular multi-chapter: That one is “coming soon” :)

Favorite story you’ve written so far: I think I had the most fun writing madam marlene & the six of cups. I love reading a fic that the author describes as self-indulgent, and now I know why: because it’s blissfully fun to write and that shows up on the page! Hopefully you can tell what fun I had being a nerd.

Fic you were nervous to post: All of them. I’ve realized that it’s actually a good sign when I get 85% done with something and feel like I should scrap it.... It means my brain can’t find any more giant problems to fix, and it’s just going into perfectionist overdrive while I wrap up the loose ends. But the adrenaline right before & right after pressing the “post” button is wild and nerve-racking and I hope it gets a little less intense!!

How do you choose your titles? In the writing stage I use extremely descriptive and boring titles (“O Cafe,” “Tarot,” “Knitting”)  until I’m faced with the “post new work” screen, and then I panic and choose something I don’t love but seems to make sense in the moment. (I’m working on that.)

Do you outline? Kind of? I type notes in a stream-of-consciousness mess until I know what I’m writing about. Then I go back and add headings, and I’ll skip around and write under each heading, and finally delete all the headings and hope the transitions are right. It’s the way I write academic and professional papers and it… kind of works. But for this multi-chaptered fic I’m writing, I have an excel spreadsheet to track the stuff that takes longer to establish.

Complete: Everything you can see is finished!

In Progress/Coming Soon: I have plans for days 30 and 31 for @remus-john-lupin’s December prompts, and a solstice one-shot as well. But I’m REALLY stoked because I think I’m about a week or two out from being able to post the first chapter of a longer story called All Pine & Apple Orchard, which came about from revisiting the poem “Mending Wall” by Robert Frost and then asking (of course) “what if this were queer? and what if it was wolfstar?” So that’s my big thing that I’m working on! I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m having the time of my life. (if you know anyone interested in beta-ing a neighbors-to-lovers-in-Vermont AU, send ‘em my way <3 )

Prompts? Oh goddess, I would combust of happiness if you sent me prompts. The structure and the externally-focused motivation is phenomenal for me, especially while I’m navigating a tough ADHD season of quarantine + it gets dark at 4:30pm. And sort of on the topic of prompts, I would love, love, LOVE to talk to writers who have research questions for things I know about, like tarot, rural New England, everything about attending/working in American universities, working in libraries, having a family member with addiction, and... brewing beer? My asks are always open. 

I feel like this has made its rounds already so I won’t tag anyone else, but I LOVE reading these interviews, so I encourage you (yes, you) to let me know if you make your post soon!

[jpn-langblr]

Review: Bunpo App

A Japanese grammar practice app a lá Duolingo.

Score: ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆

Free: ☑ Yes; ☐ No (offers paid version) 

Difficulty level: beginner | intermediate | advanced

Interaction with others: ☐ Yes; ☑ No

Available on: ☑ iPhone/iOS; ☑ Android; ☐ web

Version tested in this review: Android

Internet connection required: ☐ Yes; ☑ No

The Bunpo app is a relatively new study resource for people looking to improve their Japanese grammar. It has a simple layout that’s easy to navigate, as shown:

Bunpo divides grammar points by JLPT level and then further into smaller groups by topic or grammatical function. As grammar study is its main function, I’ve marked this as less suitable for absolute beginners at Japanese, even though the app offers kana and kanji practice as well. It also has a library of often used words (basic words) it’ll run you through, but this is, in my opinion, non-essential, since Bunpo has a rad dictionary that’ll let you tap words during practice, and the app will show you the English translation.

This only applies to the words highlighted in green, though - anything else, you’re on your own, which I find a tad sloppy, honestly.

When you open a grammar category, you’re presented with a list of grammar points. Clicking one begins the lesson, which starts with an introduction to the grammar point with example sentences. Very neat! Once you’ve gone through a few pages of this introduction, you’re taken to the test or practice part of the lesson. This is the part that’s similar to Duolingo: The various exercises involve you choosing the correct word out of a few possible selections and putting words in order. This is good for grammar practice, but it’s not infallible, as I discovered by accident:

I chose the word つまらない rather than 楽しい, which is entirely grammatically correct - just not what Bunpo wanted me to say. This resulted in me having to do this lesson all over again in order to have it marked as completed. I haven’t run into other examples of this “error” yet, but I’m sure they’re there. I hope they will be fixed in a future update, either letting the app accept multiple correct answers, or removing the “incorrect” ones.

Bunpo is a really cool app and I have a good feeling that it’ll continue to develop positively, but for now, there are a set of serious drawbacks that prevents me from rating it higher than 3 stars.

They claim that their app features all Japanese grammar points in the description on the App/Google Play Store. - This is simply not true. While obviously requiring a humongous effort, I don’t think they should write this just yet when the app appears to still be in its early stages of development. I’ve written an email to them about this and received a response 2 days later assuring me that more grammar points will be added in future updates, so I’m hopeful!

The app lags. - I suspect this may have something to do with the fact that the app is available offline (bless!), but there’s some loading time that can get annoying if you’re looking for just a quick review session.

Pricing? What for? - The app is free, but its App Store description says there’s a paid subscription mode. I haven’t been able to figure out exactly what one would be paying for; perhaps paid features are still in the works; I certainly don’t see them in my Android version. If someone has been able to figure this out, please leave a comment or message me!

Lack of information. - They have a website, yes. But it’s a Wordpress with a single page and a “learn more” link that leads nowhere. I do hope as they continue to develop the app that they’ll also make more detailed information about it more readily available to people who do not wish to download it before they’ve read more.

I’m hopeful for the continued development of this app, as more grammar resources are always welcome! However, it just seems sorta half baked still.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with or paid by the people behind Bunpo in any way. This review is my own honest opinion of the app.

More resources and reviews here!

[dogtrainning365]

Brain Training For Dogs Review: Does It Really Work?

Hi, my name’s Rachael Summers! and I’m a proud parent of my Golden retriever (Bella) and border Collie (Trixie).

Today I’ll be reviewing the brain training for dogs course that I have personally purchased and tested with a 6-month Golden retriever.

I hope that by the end of reading this post, you will easily be able to make a clear decision on whether this course if for you.

By no means am I a professional like the other online ‘claim’ to be. Nope! I’m just a regular person like you, that was looking for a way to sort out my dog’s behavior. Anyway, enough of me rambling on! Let’s get into what you came for…

The Reason I Purchased This Course

When I first got my dog Bella, she was a complete nightmare. I’m sorry to say, but her behavior was just terrible. She would run down the street, fight other dogs and chew up just about everything around the house.

To make things worse, I had my husband in my ear telling me that we would need to get rid of her, as it was more hassle than its worth. Havoc, would be an understatement!

I’m pretty much sure that things were a little more severe with my dog than you would usually expect with a 6-month golden retriever. Anyhow, its the very thing that led me into looking for a fix, which leads me onto the next point of how I came across this course.

How I Came Across This

First thing I did was like any normal parent would do, I phoned up local dog trainers and consultants to see what kind of services they offered. Which didn’t work out well at all, as the prices they were coming out with were absolutely horrendous.

I mean, how can you charge over $500 to $1000 to train a dog. Hey ho, thats my opinion and I guess others who can afford it would happily pay it. That led me to phone up a few friends and asking where I could potentially get some help for cheaper.

And the same thing kept coming up every time, “why don’t you try online”. So I did, and thats what led me to find this course as I read a few blogs that suggested it, so I decided to take the plunge and test it out.

Who Created This Course?

Before I bought the course, I did do a little digging to find out who this trainer was, but I didn’t really see much. Supposedly, shea very highly reputable dog trainer as the reviews I did see, recommended her a credible source.

Her name is Adrienne Farricelli and she’s also in a few commercial publications, so I’m sure you’ll find some info on her if you dig a little harder than me. Either way, she has over 10 years of experience and is well known for her teaching s too. So this was another reason in helping me trust that the info inside would be half decent.

What To Expect

Once you make the purchase for the course, you’re then taken through to a sales page where they try to sell you another 2 offers that I honestly didn’t take up. Maybe they’re good, maybe not, who knows!

The sales page looks nice and tidy and shares a ton of info on what you can expect inside. You can see more on that here. Anyway, once you purchase the product you’ll receive an email with links to the online videos and pdf downloadables.

Thats it really!

So after buying the course, I quickly got stuck into the section that covered bad behavior and over excitement. There were techniques that involved using positive reinforcement to help calm your dog down when they’re hyper.

I tested it out for a few days and noticed a slight improvement. But it wasn’t until I got stuck into the later stages of the course that I really saw anything significant. Just below are a few games that you get too. I personally only tied the ball pit game which was pretty fun as Bela enjoyed it too.

Here are the 3 games you get:

The ‘treasure hunt game’ that gets your dog back to his evolutionary roots and relieves the ‘boredom’ that leads to so many problem behaviors.

‘The muffin game’ to keep your dog mentally stimulated and out of trouble.

‘The ball pit game’ to drain your dog’s energy and make him easier to work with – all while they have a ton of fun and exercise.

One thing I did really like about his course was the fact that the info wasn’t super hard to pick up on. It’s pretty much simple all the way through, so there are no real restrictions on what you can try.

All the modules are split into school years, so they go through the motions of high school, college, graduation, etc. And, as you go through each one, it’s designed to get a little more difficult and intense with the training methods.

Format Of The Course

One thing I really liked about the course was the way that each training lesson leads to the next. TIt makes it super easy to pick up where you left off, and it also helps you progress accordingly with the training too.

Each of the modules starts with an introduction page that explains what to expect inside and includes a few links to each lesson.

It’s easy to navigate too, as there are a few forward and back buttons at the bottom of the page, so you can quickly get from one video to the next.

Is The Info Inside Actually Good?

to be quite frank I was surprised at how easy the info was to consume. There’s tons of help inside, as you get these little menu bars that help you navigate the site. And the books are laid out pretty well too, as it’s all sectioned into particular areas of problematic behavior.

Overall, id gives it a thumbs up for how everything was laid out and easy to digest.

And it’s not a bunch of fluff, as you can clearly tell that some level of effort was put into the information that you get inside. Talking of that, I might as well get into what you can expect in the modules next.

What’s Inside?

I’ll tell you now! if you end up buying this course, then you are guaranteed to not fall short of information. There’s literally tons and tons of info which can be a little bit of a drawback as you’ll never really find the time to get through it.

Heres a bulleted list of what you get: (taken from course page).

Six modules of videos: (ranging from preschool to elementary school to High School to college to university and to graduation)

7 trick training videos including take a Bow, cover his eyes, dance, shake hands, how, play Dead and rollover

Obedience training 101 which includes:  Using food to lure and train your dog to complete your commands, the critical element needed to get your dog to lie down or move items, key strategies for getting your dog to stay here come to you and listen to your every command.

Wait for it! and there’s more…

Dog training science and techniques

Gentle force three techniques only

Best dog mental stimulation toys

Brainteaser games

Troubleshooting segments of the course

Video demonstrations of the dog training games

As I said earlier, one thing you are not short of in the course is information. It’s literally a silly amount of information which in some cases can affect the quality of a product. Il let you make that decision for yourself though, so here are a few pros and cons.

Pros And Cons

PROS

Tons of information inside

Inexpensive

can discuss issues the problem is you can’t find answers to the inside of the course

Meaning, that you are never tied down to anything indefinitely karma you can come and go as you please

Simple to follow and step by step

You get to train your dog yourself

CONS

Some of the info was very generic (walks in the park, toys etc!)

The text was small on the bonus content (but I have bad eyes and the bonus content is only there as a nice to have).

Do I Recommend This Course?

My answer to this would be YES, if you’re experiencing problems with your dog’s behavior or simply looking for some new ways to increase your dog’s mental stimulation at home. Then yes this is a great course to get started with.

You can do it from home and there’s no ongoing costs or commitment to anything. It’s a no brainer really, and because it’s under $50, you can be sure you’ll get your monies worth, and then some too.

Heres a quick video of the trainer demonstrating a game with a rottweiler.

My Experience

Look, it’s not like everything has completely changed and my dog is a complete angel now. NO! that would be unrealistic. However, in regard to all the problems that I mentioned earlier in this post, yes, the course near enough fixed it.

My dog now doesn’t chew up our shoes and shes relatively good when we take long walks too. But it’s still a work in progress and it will be interesting to see how she gets on over the next few months.

The most important part for me is the fact that I no longer have my husband nagging in my ears as our dog is now a lot better than before. So its helped with our home life etc, as he’s a lot happier now too.

Conclusion

By reading this review you should clearly now know whether this course is something that you want to try out for you and your dog. The information comes in vast amounts and its taught by what appears to be a credible online dog trainer.

I’ve heard of other courses that are similar to this, so it will be interesting to see how they each perform when placed side by side. Maybe I’ll do a comparison on that later down the road. Who knows? For now, Isotope you enjoyed the read and wish you the best of luck!

Brain training for dogs review

Summary

Overall I would say this is a great program for training your dog. There is still room for improvement, but the methods and strategies worked wonders for me. I would highly recommend this training course if you’re experiencing behavioral problems with your dog.

Try It Yourself

[ofcacthuxandkylosaur]

FAQ

1. Where do you find those AU’s?

Well, mostly those are the AUs that cross my dash - when I happen to be active on tumblr. So you see, it is a bit restrictive and means there are probably lots of AUs I never found and I don’t even know exist! Every once in a while, I try exploring blogs or using tumblr search engine. It gets me results, but not as much as you would expect (tumblr search engine is not the most effective tool for that kind of things...). My ask box is also open in case you want to suggest a new tag/new post (see Q4 & Q5).

2. Are new AU tags meant to be added on the list?

I intend to. But it vastly depends on the AUs that cross my path (see Q1) and of the time I can manage to spend on the list. But I am always happy to discover new AUs :) On a side note, I intend to edit this version of the list rather than posting new versions. As long as I don’t have to split it again it should be fine!

3. Do you continue tagging the posts you reblog?

Yes, I try. So if you click on the same tag now and then in a few months, you may see new posts. ‘May’ of course, because I don’t encounter every AU everyday and some AUs are more popular than others...

4. Can I suggest an AU tag?

Yes please! The more tags the better. I can’t guarantee I’ll add it to the list though. Maybe I already use a synonym (or a concept too close to create a new entry). I also need to have more than two posts about an AU to create a tag (otherwise, it will be tagged as “Other AU” and possibly “Other /thematicName/ AU”). So it is best you also suggest post(s) bond to the AU you suggest (please send me links to those or directly submit the post(s) otherwise I might never find them!). It can also take me a few weeks to effectively add the new tag to the list since I must check possible affiliations/redirections/proximity (see “HOW” section of ABOUT) and see if it fits in any thematic list.

I must also warn you that I reserve myself the right to refuse an AU I am really uncomfortable with (typically heavy gore and obvious/graphic abuse). I try to be inclusive but there are some things I can’t bring myself to reblog. You can try reblogging and tagging that AU yourself, then create a post with a ‘yourBlogName.tumblr.com/tagged/tagName’ type of link, and I might add a link to that one post in the list. To be discussed. However, I will not add a pe /dophilic AU to the list. Ever.

5. Can I suggest post(s) for existing AU tags?

Yes, please do!! You can send me the link via an ask or submit it. Just try to look at the post’s notes beforehand (”see notes”) to see if I haven’t reblogged it already.

6. Can I suggest a new thematic list?

Yes you can! I can’t guarantee I’ll have the time to make it, but it could happen. Please try to provide an explanation for the theme (to make sure I get what you mean), with maybe a definition and an example of which tags you can see belonging to it (and which you think don’t). Note that all the tags appearing on  thematic lists already exist in the general AU list, so I won’t come up with new tags for a new thematic list.

7. What about Kylux adjacent?

I only included technicians (Matt/Techie), since it was the first adjacent paring to emerge. Also, since Matt is a radar technician he is still technically in the Star Wars universe. I wish I could have “tracked” every adjacent pairing but there are so many and I lost count. It would have taken me an incredible amount of time I didn’t have. If you happen to have your own tag list referencing all/part of those adjacent ships, you can contact me if you’re ok with me adding a link in my AU list redirecting people to your blog for Kylux adjacent.

8. The same post appears twice or more for the same AU. Is it normal?

No, I try to have each post to only appear once for each AU. BUT this list has been in the making for so long and some tags have so many posts that it is sometimes difficult to avoid duplication. If it bothers you, you can send me the links to those posts (all of them please) and I’ll try to settle it.

9. I am confused as to why you tagged a certain post like you did. Could it be a mistake?

It could. I do my best but sometimes it is hard to sort posts into tags. It could also be that the post comes from a series of posts and that it only becomes clear that the serie belongs to an AU when you read/see all the posts. Both scenari are an option, so feel free to message me about it. 

10. I am the OP of a post and you definitively tagged it wrong...

Ooops sorry! Please send me an ask so I can settle this!

11. I encountered a broken/incorrect link inside the list...

That is not normal. All of the tags displayed in the list should be working. This is however possible. There are many tags and I might have made a mistake. Please send me an ask with the name of the broken tag so I can fix it!

12. In ABOUT you said that there needs to be more than two posts for an AU to become a tag. Yet I found an AU tag with only two posts...

It happens. As I said in ABOUT, this is a general rule, and there are exceptions. If there are only two posts, but (one of) those posts are(/is) long, contains multiple art or a combination moodboard/fic, I might decide to make it a tag anyway. If, on the contrary, you spot a tag with three or more posts that doesn’t have a proper tag in the list, please let me know!

13. I don’t understand why you tagged a specific post “other” alongside  already existing tags...

“Other AU” is a default tag I use when there is no existing category fit for a post. A post tagged “other” can also be tagged “Other /thematicName/ AU” if it fits in any of the thematic lists. Also, you must remember that posts can be multi-tagged as a same post can have multiple “dimensions”. For example, it can depict a scene happening on a boat (”Cruise AU”) where Kylo happens to be a secret agent (”Agent Kylo AU”). Thus, if there’s a specific dimension about an AU that would justify the creation of a new tag, but I don’t have enough posts of that kind to actually create it (yet), the post will be tagged “other”, even though the other(s) dimension(s) are already depicted by existing tags. Let’s pretend that in the previous example, “Agent Kylo AU” was not yet part of the list. I would have tagged it “Cruise AU” and “other AU” (+ “Other Jobs AU”). I might even have added the “Agent Kylo AU” tag for internal purposes (so I can check how many of them I have and determine if it is time or not to add a new tag to the list).

14. A “Read More”/redirection link on a post doesn’t lead anywhere...

A “Read More” link redirects you to the OP blog. If the blog has changed name/been deleted or if the OP removed the post, you will end up nowhere. It is sad but you won’t be able to read the full post and there is nothing I can do about it. When it happens, you can however send me a message so that I can precise on the post that the “Read More” option is not an option anymore (please send me a link to my reblog of the post otherwise chances are I’ll never find it). Same goes for any other redirection link(s) present on the posts. If the page you were supposed to land on doesn’t exist anymore, I can’t do much about it, save warn people about it.

15. You reblogged comics in the wrong order...

Reblogging multiple pages comics is difficult. Either you reblog it entirely at once, either you reblog each page as it goes (the comic appears thus in reverse order in your blog). And if you miss some, it quickly becomes a mess. I tried to reblog relatively short comics at once, starting with the last part (so that the first page appears first when people scroll/navigate) but I often couldn’t. Some comics are not even complete, either because they were left unfinished, either because I just lost the thread. If there are navigation links within the posts, it is probably best you follow those. If not, maybe try to open the pages in different tabs and to order those accordingly. Or, and this is probably my best advice, try looking on the OP blog. They probably have a tag for their comic and it may make things easier!

16. You reblogged one of my posts and I’d rather not have it referenced by your list...

No problem! Please contact me I’ll untag it asap!

17. I have a question regarding the list that is not referenced above. Is it ok for me to ask it?

Yes, of course. Just be sure your answer doesn’t already lies in the ABOUT section (and refer to Q18 in case my answer doesn’t come too fast...).

18. I asked you a question but am still waiting for an answer...

Obviously (except if you were sending (anon) hate), I am not mad at you. I might need a few days to answer you. If a week has passed and I didn’t post an answer, chances are: 1) I didn’t see your message (tumblr eats it sometimes) or 2) I’ve been out of tumblr (busy with work, on holiday or something) or 3) my brain is not really complying at the moment. I do have down periods and, when it happens, I might not have the heart/energy to answer. It can last a few weeks or several months. I try to look at my inbox when I come back on this site but I might miss a message if too much have been sent. In any case, you can try and send your question again later.

See ABOUT for more general information