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get-back-homeward · 1 year

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Imagine this

How Do You Sleep that

Have you considered the most interesting song on the Imagine album may be How?

George was right. The song deserves attention.

Tumblr search is zero help on this song because it only picks up How Do You Sleep. But has anyone ever written about it?

Given John’s “How? + Why?” response to Paul’s 12-page letter about dissolving the partnership, I think it’s worth looking at. That exchange is sometime in summer 1970.

Song Origins

The earliest version of How? is a home demo dated as late 1970. This demo only has the “we” part of the song:

How can we go forward When we don’t know which way we're facing? How can we go forward When we don’t know which way to turn? How can we be certain About something we’re not sure of? Oh, no, oh, no

In the final version, this part is the end of the song (the bolded words change slightly). This ending is a shift from the personal “I” used in the rest of the song. So he started with “we” in 1970 and then evolved it into more self-directed reflection over time.

The demo is very rough, he's still searching for the notes. But something about it made me think of Look At Me, which has a similar plaintive tone and features several existential questions to the listener (Who am I supposed to be? and Who are we?). Look at Me originates from India and has an earlier 1968 demo that captures a glimpse of John’s state of mind during this crucial time. The How? demo would be recorded around the same time John is revisiting Look At Me to record formally for the Plastic Ono Band album.

The added self-reflection verses continue the same format of existential questions, moving from feelings to love. It's a blatantly honest look at depression in the wake of a loss, which I think George would have noticed and in some sense seen himself in. It's unclear when these verses are added (John just says “last year” in 1971 for all the verses), but they are probably influenced by John's experience of undergoing Janov's primal scream therapy (April-September 1970?). Possibly the questions left unanswered at the end of those 6 months.

How can I have feeling when I don't know if it's a feeling?

How can I give love when I don't know what it is I'm giving?

All three verses include the idea of uncertainty (I don’t know), which could be its own essay on existentialism vs epistemology in the face of a destabilizing event. But for now, let’s focus on the emotional aspect. Here, two places ascribe blame to drive his uncertainty: his feelings have always been denied and love is something he never had. This seems to go a bit far, but remember depression is a liar and part of Janov's therapy was probably that John’s closest relationships had all been a lie.

John adds the middle eight during Imagine sessions. It balances the bleakness of depression with the will to live:

You know life can be long

And you got to be so strong

And the world is so tough

Sometimes I feel I've had enough

This middle eight repeats twice, and each time, the end fuses to the first word of the questioning verses, without the typical space of a few beats in between. This lack of space suggests a relationship, as if the questions are part of the fight to keep him going past the bleakness of feeling like giving up.

Its first recording is May 26, 1971, nine days after Ram is released. Take 31 and Take 40 (Raw Studio Mix) were released on the Ultimate release of the album but aren't too different from the final lyrics/melody wise.

Supposedly, another version of How? includes a question about home: “how can I go home when home is something I have never had” and it’s not clear which lines replace it. Perhaps “how can I give love when I don’t know what it is I’m giving?” Questions of home would be a result of Janov’s primal scream digging into his childhood and bringing forth old wounds. But in the absence of a physical home, it’s the people around you who become your home. This home line makes me think of that Get Back sessions moment, when John shares with Paul his excitement about getting Apple Studio functional and feeling like home. It's a picture of feelings being denied in action as Paul responds by changing the subject. For whatever reason, this home line gets cut by Take 31.

The placement of How? in the album tracklist is curious too, directly after the angry Paul-directed How Do You Sleep. Its title holds the same question but none of the anger. It’s like an echo of How Do You Sleep, informing the source of its anger and revealing what it masks: fear and indecision about the future.

Song Context

It’s interesting to place this song next to Ram, where the overwhelming theme is the exact opposite: grab life by the horns and move forward to find your own way. Ram sessions started in NYC in October 1970, around the same time as the How? demo. Each song, from Too Many People to Back Seat, reveals Paul’s mental exercise of extricating himself from his former life and moving on with his family in Scotland. Personally and professionally, Paul is building a new home away from John.

The final version of How? is produced more in the vein of The Long and Winding Road, the song at the nexus of the breakup. Its beginning is marked by the same distinct stop-start syncopated beat and the instrumentation builds across the song to make a bleak song more palatable. If Paul didn’t turn off the record the moment he heard John’s diss track, he would have almost certainly picked up How?’s link to TL&WR. That song being his own plaintive moment of fearing the future, considering life without the band that was his world. And the last straw when Spector remixed it without his approval.

In his April 1971 LIFE interview that precedes the Ram release, Paul shares a recent exchange between him and John. John recalls the infamous “bubble bursting” question, and Paul corrects him in the past tense: the bubble has already burst. This is one of several exchanges where Paul’s saying catch up, it’s done, let me go and John’s saying what does that even mean?!

Hearing Paul’s declaration of independence on Ram made John angry. He calls How Do You Sleep “an outburst” in response to Ram and not reflective of how he thinks of Paul all the time. But Ram also gave him a direction forward that McCartney did not. If John thought the album had messages to taunt him, he almost certainly heard the taunt in Monkberry Moon Delight:

Catch up! Cats and kittens Don’t get left behind

I don’t know about you, but hearing that taunt from my ex-partner/BFF/lover/whatever would certainly make me angry, hot enough to ignite my competitive streak and get to work.

It reminds me of the moment Fred Seaman recalls in 1980, when John hears Paul's Coming Up:

John told me that Paul was the only musician who could scare him into writing great songs, and vice versa.

Imagine is hardly my favorite John solo album. I'm not about to dismiss the terrible things John said about Paul or Ram or forget how the bad press buried the album for years. But I think in focusing on the anger, we can miss the simple fact that Ram inspiring John to write anything was actually the biggest compliment he could give. Sometimes, anger is the only fuel available to drive you forward, where anything is preferable to nothing. It’s not ideal or fair, and it’s up to you to pick up the mess of your storm later, but it’s something. Like a basic survival instinct kicking in in the midst of drowning. Any fight that pushing you back to the surface is preferable over laying down and dying.

In that way, I think John was being honest when he later admitted that How Do You Sleep was about himself. Not in the exact lines specific to Paul but in the action, to write (or accept), record, and release them. How? as an echo to this anger shows the before and after, how John used Paul as a punching bag in response. That action was all about John himself.

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redbelles · 10 months

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“So how’s Columbia?”

“Screw you,” says Rory thinly, passing him the half of the scone that’s left. It’s cherry, anyway, his favorite. (What else is she supposed to do with her hands? Where should she put them now so she doesn’t slip up and reach for him?)

“Yeah.” Jess brushes her fingers with his cold ones as he takes the paper bag, purposeful and spiteful, proving nothing she doesn’t already know. “Right back at you.”

in the baggage room at greyhound ↳ a season four au by @oceanblvdmp3

#literati #rory gilmore #jess mariano #gilmore girls #literati fic #jess x rory #rory x jess #gilmore girls fic #fic recs #*#your honor i love this #canon fucking wishes #flashing tw #yo FUCK the new editor #@tumblr meet me in the pit i want my goddamn gradient text back

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buttercupart · 11 months

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@scientistredacted @valmun

level 99 cataclysmic nostalgia event dropping in 3, 2, 1

#sorry im so nostalgic over everything undertale and undertale adjacent right now and im making it into YOUR problem #its equality #maybe its equality maybe its autism #Actually maybe moreso the tism im literally in ut interest hell. im in the pits lads #anyways you know that meme thats like 'i miss him so much everyday oh my godd keep thotting it up in heaven king'#thats me. that was me like half a decade ago and its me now #Belated sorry on behalf of 17 yr old me for creepin on yer rps all the time like a freak #i literally had the social abilities of a chair back then. but it brought me so much joy! so [dr. phil voice] thank you. for that #lika month ago when The Brainrot was just hitting kendall rb'd an old redraw they drew of these guys #and i was like ooooooooooooooooohhh beans do not get me started #and then i got started #ok sidenote how on earths bountious pastures do you blockquote stuff on the new editor i cant stand this #HHAAAAAHH got it. liveblogging the making of this post in realtime to stall loggin off and goin to bed #Also sidenote 2 yeah i ref'd the pose of that one dana lumity drawing and i'd do it again. my city my freaking city #ok thats enough ive babbled enough kay thanks BYEEEEEEE #wips #alex my friend alex

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alivegirlmari · 11 months

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thinking about the differences between the first hunt and the pit girl hunt, and i'm so excited to see how they change and refine their rituals. shauna was meant to kill nat in the cabin, but travis interrupting is what creates the chase aspect. they clearly keep that. why? so when they kill, it feels earned? bc it offers the promise of escaping, outsmarting? but where can you really run to? javi dies when nat picked the card, allowing for a 'you're safe if someone else dies instead' rule, but that doesn't seem to be the case with pit girl, who is bare foot and only wearing a long white shirt. is there some sort of ceremony beforehand, where she's cleaned, dressed, and sent out? nat only got a head start bc she ran; is pit girl given a specific amount of time before they go after her? there's only a small number of survivors left eating her, so it's probably not the first pit hunt, and those clothes (or lack of) don't exactly seem compatible with running, so do they have different types of hunts? how many? do they vary by season? do they continue to have human hunts when other food sources become available? is hers a 'meet death via the pit, the elements, or us' type? offering the choice of how you want to die, or is the pit to stop her from truly going anywhere far? etc.

#before they draw cards they pile together offerings. why? do they re-use those specific offerings? do you have to offer new things etc?#GOD im excited to find out more. ik they skipped over that with the first one but i do have hope we'll see more details tbh #i don't agree with it but i can see the writers/editors being like yeah this needs the vibe of ambiguity and desperation #but the pit girl scenes clearly show something planned and thought out.#maybe she's born with it...maybe it's blatant delusions...<3 #*

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cynosuresoldier · 1 year

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@arrowablaze liked for a lyrics starter // Victim of Nostalgia by Mxmtoon

There's an uncomfortable pressure in Kaja's chest as she holds her old journal in her hands. It had somehow survived all those years of training and through most of her stint in the Survey Corps. Though part of her wanted to open it, she found herself hesitating. Was it worth it to relive it?

"Will I always be the words I wrote when I was seventeen?" She glanced over to the other brunette, a quiet disappointment about her, "Does it even matter? Will the world still be around when I turn sixty-three?"

#hihihihi!!#This new editor is the pits where is my old tumblr skdjff

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radiofreederry · 8 months

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Happy birthday, Leslie Feinberg! (September 1, 1949)

A prominent butch lesbian author and activist, Leslie Feinberg grew up in Buffalo, New York in a working class Jewish family. Ze discovered hir sexuality sometime in hir teens, and ze began frequenting Buffalo's gay bars. Ze became involved in radical politics in hir twenties, joining the Workers World Party and becoming a contributor and later editor of its newspaper. Ze would take part in many radical actions and demonstrations both in Buffalo and after moving to New York City. Hir experiences as a butch lesbian in Buffalo and NYC informed the semi-autobiographical Stone Butch Blues, hir most famous work, which went on to have an extremely influential place in the lesbian community. Ze also wrote Transgender Warriors, an influential work of popular history on the subject of gender, as well as other books and writings related to sex, gender, and revolutionary politics. Feinberg died in 2014, hir final words being a plea to remember hir as a revolutionary communist. Ze was later honored as an inaugural inductee to the National LGBT Wall of Honor.

“Like racism and all forms of prejudice, bigotry against transgendered people is a deadly carcinogen. We are pitted against each other in order to keep us from seeing each other as allies. Genuine bonds of solidarity can be forged between people who respect each other's differences and are willing to fight their enemy together. We are the class that does the work of the world, and can revolutionize it. We can win true liberation.”

#birthdays #leslie feinberg

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 1 year

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Danny turned his face up toward the sky, letting Gothams rain poor down his face. His husband, Tim, had loved this city-to the point of dying for it while wearing a mask.

The court of owls had been cowardly, and honestly Danny should have expected that from a bunch of entitled rich people. Many of the bats were there taking down the courts lackeys but there wasn't any signs of the Talons, which made sense since they seemed to act oddly around Phantom and just kinda flopped onto the ground and bared thier necks to him. Wierd.

Everyone was fighting, so no one noticed the tip of a snipers rifle poking out of a crag in the cave walls until it was too late. A shot was fired.

And Tim was on the floor

Danny didn't remember much after that. He remembers Nightwing holding his little brother while Batman came to his side. He remembers the other bats running off to find the sniper and Danny just...stood there. He stared at Tims blood splatter and the gray matter all over the floor. The bullet had went through his head had killed him quickly but this didn't comfort him. The scene was so gruesome but he couldn't bring himself to look away as his vision was consumed by green.

The next time he became aware Nightwing was in front of him, asking him to turn himself in. Confused, he asked what he had done only to learn he had hunted down every Court of Owls member like a man possessed and torn them to shreds. No one was sure how Phantom knew who was a member or not especially while he was in that state, but it didn't change the face that Phantom had killed so many people.

Danny was horrified. How could he had done this? He had never experienced the pit rage before and never thought he would. But here he was having lost almost two weeks of time and gaining more blood on his hands than he knew what to do with.

So Danny, not wanting to argue or-ancients forbid- fight his family-in-law while everyone was grieving, agreed to turn himself in.

So he did.

He never agreed to stick around for an interrogation or a trial though. So he didn't.

The cops never even learned of his true identity before he took off but he knew it wasn't safe to stay in Gotham anymore. Heck, it probably wasn't safe to stay on Earth anymore with all the heroes that would be after him if the bats so much as asked. And there was no way he could go back to his own dimensions Earth either.

...but that didn't mean all Earths where out of the question.

---

Danny had finally gotten settled in this new dimension. Starting over was always hard but he had done it before. Grabbing a gig as a freelance translator and editor for a few publication companies was pretty easy when you knew what cards to play and what people to call. Plus, Danny was really good at making false identities and translating, so that helped a ton.

At night he would keep a look out his window, trying to spot the bats of this world, as as much as it hurt him to do so, he always delighted in seeing this worlds Tim running along the rooftops.

This went on for a while until Danny started getting nauseous and intense pain in his chest and abdomen. It was bad enough that he sniffed out this worlds Dr Thomkins pretty quickly and asked her to give him a check up.

Upon doing an ultrasound she found a strange sphere in his chest, which he assured her was normal, and an embryo growing in his abdomen which was very much not. Danny laid on the examination table for a solid few seconds and Dr. Tomkins was about to start rattling off his options to him before her patient started crying. "Oh thank the stars."

Danny explained that this was the child of his late husband who was murdered and he was very happy to have this baby. Sure, he had most of his personal affects (he had cleaned out his and Tims shared home and safe houses on his way out of the dimension, much to the absolue ire of the other bats) but this was a little living piece of his husband, which was something so much more.

But this also meant he had to leave again. This worlds Tim was just like the one that he lost and he had no doubt that some way, some how, Tim would find out about this child. Could he explain this in a way that was satisfactory? Could he handle Tim coming in and out of his home to visit "his" child as he would undoubtedly do? Could he stand to see the face of a man who looked like his husband, talked like his husband, and acted like his husband, but wasn't? No. He couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't do that to Tim. He refused to replace one Tim for another. That was so callus and shallow. He would never do something like that, grief or no grief. He was strong. He'd be strong for Tim.

He paid the doctor and thanked her profusely before leaving and going back to his apartment. He hadn't even unpacked most of his stuff before he was packing it all back up again. He needed to find a world where:

1. Tim was nothing like the Tim he had known and loved

2. Tim was not old enough to take custody of thier child if he ever found out

3. Batman was not around

4. Damian didn't exist. He was usually pretty cool with the little gremlin but he doesn't think he could listen to him insult Tim and not throttle a literal child.

5. It was not impossible to raise a child

The list could probably use some work but that was the gist of it for now.

-------

Danny had finally found his perfect Gotham after weeks or interdimentional travel and countless jumps. Well, perfect probably wasn't the right word for a place like Gotham but his point still stands.

He once again found himself sitting on the edge of a rooftop overlooking the city. He and his husband had liked to sit and chat in these kinds of places when patrol was slow. Now Danny was sitting alone in the rain in one of Tims old jackets reminiscing. Suddenly hearing a grapple line connect with the building startled him out of his thoughts.

Nightwing landed nearby and for a moment Danny thought he was here to insist Danny turns himself in again before he was reminded that this wasn't the same Nightwing and Danny hadn't committed any crimes here. Well. No violent ones at least. Forging a fake identity requires much criming as it turns out.

Nightwing approached him slowly and cautiously as if he expected Danny to bolt at any second. That wasn't comforting. "Hey," the big bird greeted calmly, "How about you step away from the edge? If there's something on your mind I'm sure we can talk it out, alright?"

Danny opened his mouth and then shut it again. Opening it again he blurted out, "I'm not gonna jump."

Looking doubtful, Nightwing gestured for him to come toward him and away from the edge, and if Nightwing were anyone other than a bat he would not have obliged as he did. Once Danny was safely away from falling to his doom the vigilante began asking questions.

After everything was answered and birdy was sure Danny was safe, he made a comment about the jacket and Danny told him it belonged to his late husband who past away recently. This led to Dick egging Danny on as he talked about his husband and grieved.

It was then that Danny showed Nightwing his baby bump and the vigilante was excited for him.

Somehow he and the various bats kept running into eachother around the city and one thing let to another. Before he knew it the bats where coming and going in his apartment to "check up on him"

This worlds Tim was still 16 and loved his role as Robin. He was grieving the loss of Bruce but...this version of Tim was different. Full of light. His smile was brighter and came more often. His humor wasn't as dark and...he was...smol. He began seeing this Tim more like his child than as an alternate version of his lover. Needless to say he planned on spoiling Robin rotten.

Everything seemed to be falling into place. He had a steady income, an apartment, some new friends, and was slowly unpacking.

It was smooth sailing up until his dead husband appeared in his apartment in the middle of the night staring him down with Lazarus green eyes. How had this happened? He was Tims husband and he made absolutely sure Tims body had been cremated (another thing the bats were mad about since Bruce and Tim were Jewish). Tim has specifically asked for cremation to avoid a situation like this where Ras got his creepy little hands on him.

But why would Ras send Tim here? How did Tim get here? How did Tim find him? Why did Tim show up in his apartment on random nights and then disappear into the city when he tried to ask him answers? Why did Tim barely speak? Was this a clone or the original?

Was this even real? Or was he finally losing his mind?

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obscuritory · 1 year

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Realmz is a Macintosh RPG from 1994 that has a ton of content packed inside. It comes with one built-in scenario that doesn't have a main quest line so much as it does a dozen separate oversized sidequests, as well as a bunch of extra scenarios you could buy separately. There's hundreds of items included in Realmz, and I'm not sure how many of them are actually used in the base game, whether they were included for the add-on scenarios, or whether they were just added in the hopes that they'd be used in the future.

The creators of Realmz clearly had fun coming up with all the extra items. Especially all the flavor text! ESPECIALLY for all the cursed items. Here's some of my favorites, taken from the Realmz Character Editor. It was really hard to narrow these down (Reproduced as they were written with typos.)

Broadsword +2 A weapon fit for a lord. This weapon will bring many a jealous stare.

Scimitar of Trickery -2 A foul curse brought upon by an evil druid so long ago. Even the gods do not remember why.

Mace of Destruction +3 This weapon is extremly powerful and has always been in the hands of evil. Until now!

Morning Star of Pain -2 Aaagh! Sharp pains shoot through your arms as you try to bring this weapon to bear. What diabolical force created this?

Flail of Devilish Dare +4 Woe be the netherbeast to confront a foe who brandishes this weapon.

Tip Sword of Stench -2 The olfactory emissions produced by this item cause its wielder to choke and gag whenever need is greatest.

Sword of the Omen -3 This small blade brings visions of horrible destruction. Before the end of the first new moon they invariable come true.

Battleaxe of Death -2 Faaaughh!! What sick wizardry is this? It inflicts damage on the wrong side!

Bow of Thumbs -3 A criminal creation is this. Somewhere a vile wizard laughs.

Bow of Shalomar This mystical weapon was though to have been lost when the golden elves were banished from the Realmz. That does not now seem to be the case.

Throwing Hammer +3 If a hammer could swat a fly on the wall at a hundred paces, this hammer would be the one to do it.

Cobra Strike +4 Though it is disgusting to look upon, it is a mighty weapon in battle.

Firestorm Invented by a senile fire giant who was attempting to construct a interior heating system, firestorm arrows will blanket an area with flames that persist up to five rounds.

Cheters Blade +8 This weapon was once the weapon of Cheter. Cheter was an aid to Charon, ferryman over the river Styx. Cheter was slain while fighting at Charons side battling a powerful demon wishing to cross Styx without paying.

Leather of Darkness -2 Spawned from the pits of hell itself! Woe is the adventurer who mistakes this for a suit of armor.

Armor of Imprisonment -3 This suit looks innocent enough until you try it on. What twisted wizard created such poison as this?

Gauntlets +24 These gauntlets radiate so that none but the moronic will deny the power of their bearer.

Gauntlets of The Void Contemplate what is worst in men, and you will find a portrait of he who created this filth. Baaahhh! They hurt even to look at!

Cloak of Darkness -3 Many have considered the possible good that could have been done with the huge amounts of raw power used to create this cursed cloak.

Salt Table Salt, useful for curing meat and perhaps throwing in the face of enemies.

Gauntlets of Pain -2 This foul curse is considered one of the most painful. One will never play the flute again if worn too long.

Hellsbane +11 Created by Chetnyet the Brave in his quest to rid Hell of all devilkin. Such a fool who believes that hell can fall to the likes of just one man.

Necklace of Shackles -5 At first this necklace appears to be valuable. Hmmmmmph!!!

Shadow Mask A perminent smell of rot pervades this mask. Though it smells disgusting, it's benefits are vast.

Staff of the Ages Can turn any creature into a statue of stone. The mind is not destroyed and the cursed creature often goes mad from boredom over the centuries.

Mystic Luck Stone +20 This unique item is a true wonder. Taken from the dead body of a Vex Witch by "Bolo the Angry". A powerful ogre who found the witch dead of natual causes.

#realmz #RPG #Macintosh #gaming

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flowerpotmage · 10 months

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Tight Grip, Broken Dam (4)

<< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >>

You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest. If only it could stay so simple.

Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader

Notes: for series: slow burn, ambiguous relationship, found family dynamics, reader is in their late 20s. for chapter: action scene, nongraphic injury

Word Count: roughly 3k

Read this chapter on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

The first time you had held Miguel was in his lab. It was the earlier days, the grief still raw, the man still shell-shocked. You were brand new to the multiverse, to Earth-928.

You had found him watching videos of his daughter.

“Miguel?”

You’d never seen him close windows on his platform display so fast, before or since then. You waited for him to say something, anything, but all you saw was the tension in his shoulders.

“I’ll leave these here, we just thought you'd like to have some food…” you said, glancing up at him while you placed the takeout box on a level surface.

“Thank you.”

The ghost of a wobble in his voice made you pause, look closer at him. A thwip and a swing, and you were suddenly on the platform with him. He turned to look at you, the vague surprise on his face doing little to hide the shine of his eyes.

And then you hugged him, your arms around his waist and your head against his chest as you squeezed him tight. He clearly didn't know what to do, his own arms floated awkwardly in the air.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m returning the favor,” you mumbled. “From when we met.”

His body seemed to relax at that, just slightly, and his hands came to rest lightly on your back.

“...Thank you.”

You wake twenty minutes before your alarm feeling ill-rested and ill at ease, your dream fading rapidly from your mind. Turning your head to look at where your phone is charging on the edge of the mattress (“You really shouldn’t sleep with that thing in your bed,” you hear Miguel say in the back of your mind), you stare at it as if it will miraculously fix your previous night’s sleep, or suddenly announce that you actually have hours left to return to dreamland.

No such luck.

So you drag yourself out of bed, feeling much like a cursed skeleton climbing from a blackened pit, and reluctantly start your day.

When you head out you leave a sleeping Gwen in the apartment, your dimension-hopping watch in your inner coat pocket beside your mask in case she needs to contact you. You don’t have time to get a burner phone for her this morning, but you put it on your mental to-do list.

Like many Spider-People, your day job is in journalism. You’ve lost track of how many Peter Parkers work in photo -journalism, and how many at the Daily Bugle specifically. You’re no stranger to J. Jonah Jameson and his anti-Spider-Person vendetta, being the target of it here in your own dimension, but you couldn't imagine working for him too. No, your main job is writing for the features section of an entirely different paper, often assigned to human interest pieces, community events, and independent art exhibits. This only pays about half the bills, freelance barely covering the rest, but the hours are flexible and your journalism pass has come in handy enough times during Spider-sleuthing that you wouldn’t change a thing.

Well, besides more pay. Obviously. So… yeah, actually, maybe one thing.

But your heart’s barely in it today. While your body sits in the paper’s office floor, waiting to talk with the editor in chief about your latest piece, your head is–

“You okay today? You look about a million miles away,” one of your colleagues seems to materialize before you, her long pin-straight blonde hair tucked behind one ear.

You give an apologetic smile. Even under the terrible fluorescence of the office lights she manages to look like an ethereal elven being.

So not fair.

“Sorry, late night,” you chuckle weakly. “Didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m guessing from the way you say that, it wasn’t for any fun reason,” she attempts to joke, and you chuckle.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Just uh, one of those nights.”

She glances at the door behind you. “Good luck with Ellison. Ben’s got him in a real mood today, I hear.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

She smiles, turning to head to the door. “See ya later then.”

You return the smile. “Bye, Karen.”

She’s passing through the office door when the editor’s office opens and a balding, bearded man pokes his head out, fixing you under his bespectacled stare.

“ Please tell me you have good things to tell me today.”

“Mitchell,” you greet, rising from the plastic chair to follow him into his office. “Have I ever let you down?”

“Only about five times in recent memory,” he says, motioning for you to close the door as he turns the corner around to the back of his desk, sitting down.

“Fair,” you acknowledge. “But then did I not totally make up for those?”

He rolls his eyes begrudgingly. “Okay, fine.” He gestures at you. “Out with it.”

“I need an extension.”

He sighs, going to take off his glasses–

“I’m kidding,” you quickly say. And then, “Sorry,” when he glares at you from under his crunched together eyebrows. “I actually finished early, it should be in your inbox, and,” you fish out a thin stack of paper collected in a binder clip, holding them towards him in offering. “I brought you a hard copy for your notes. I know the printer here is on the fritz.”

He raises his eyebrows, reaching across the table to accept the papers. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” you say. “Because I'm going to assume you can't pay me for it yet, so I won't even ask. Can I have my next story?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to finish so soon,” he says, plopping the papers down on his desk. “I won’t have more for you for at least a week, since you refuse to cover the Spider.”

“Conflict of interest,” you immediately recite, punching your hands into your coat pockets.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off. “Take the week, use it to catch up on your freelance work, see if there’s anything you wanna pitch to me.”

You nod, the two of you say your farewells, and you exit the office.

Back on the street, a light wind nips at your nose and ears. There’s no aggression behind it, the nips as harmless as a teething puppy, but the chill is there nonetheless. Once again you punch your hands into your pockets to spare your fingers the gummy mouthing of the wind, letting it chase you down the sidewalk and dance around your heels.

With nothing but time to kill, you scan through your mental list of tasks and errands—

Ah. A phone for Gwen.

The simple errand was going very, very wrong.

First, on the way there, you had gotten swept into a car chase as The Spider, at one point narrowly dodging a bullet with your name on it. The unnamed woman from the last night Miguel had stayed over flashed through your mind when it blew past you, throwing you off and earning you a road rash on your hands, knee, and one forearm that you’d be feeling for the next few days, at least. God, you wish you had a better healing factor.

Second, the first phone-related store you happened upon was one of those places with windows pasted with advertisements, the glass behind bars, and the entire storefront covered in bright glittery and flashing signage. Most prominent was the ‘ WE BUY GOLD!!!’ sign dancing with all the enthusiasm of a Las Vegas showgirl.

It was also being robbed. Which wasn’t a problem for you of course, it was just that you were starting to feel pretty damn drained already and it wasn’t even noon.

After some acrobatics that would impress even Gwen, you succeeded in webbing up the four men involved with the overzealous attempted robbery, leaving them hanging from the lampost outside to be picked up before buying a prepaid flip phone with cash.

But no, that wasn’t all that went wrong. You believed yourself to be in the clear, stopping to get a sandwich once back in your civilian clothes, and now you sat on a bench in the square watching manicured bushes rustle in the midday breeze.

“Mm,” you hum, swallowing your first bite of your sandwich, and going for another.

And then, the third thing goes wrong. A portal opens up and spits out a rather tall man, covered head to toe in glowing and moving circuit-board patterns under his hat and trenchcoat. The air buzzes with static even from where you sit nearly twenty feet away, your internal alarm blaring like a bad horror movie.

His head turns with a sudden, jerking motion, looking you directly in the eyes.

“Oh, shit.”

His body turns to face you, moving as jerky as his head had. You barely have time to jump up and run, abandoning your sandwich, before his arm lifts and he fires a goddamn laser ball at you.

“Shit, shit!”

You scatter with the other handful of people who had been in the square, searching frantically for somewhere to pull on your mask and safely ditch your things. It takes a moment, but you manage it, and when you emerge from the tiny alley to slingshot yourself back to the square, the anomaly is walking straight for you, movements jerky and mechanical.

“Ohhh, this isn’t good,” you lift your watch to your masked face as you land on a grassy patch. “I need backup! Anomaly on Earth-”

You don’t manage to get your dimension number out as you speak into your watch, because a second laser blast is heading straight for you. Your internal alarm bell screeches at you just in time for you to dodge and for it to fly through empty air where your rib cage had been moments before.

You land in a roll, scraping your road-rash all over again, standing as the park tree behind where you had stood moments shatters and topples, branches bouncing and rustling against themselves in a way that sounds quite a lot like the blood rushing through your ears.

You shoot a web at the electric man, but his cannon arm— Holy shit, his whole arm? —tears through it like, well, a cobweb.

“Electro!” You shout, taking a wild guess as to his identity. You don’t have an Electro on your earth, but you’ve heard enough and seen enough waiting to be sent home, so you connect the dots. “We don’t need to do this! I can hel-”

“Not. Elec. Tro.” He speaks, voice choppy like his movements, distorted and filtered. “Ven. Ture.”

Dots un- connected.

“Wha-? Who?”

He raises his cannon arm at you once more. You start to run, looking for something with height.

No such luck.

Then across the square a familiar golden portal opens, pulling your attention.

It pulls Venture’s too.

A figure steps out, Venture swinging his cannon arm in the new direction. You call out in warning, shooting your webs to grab his arm. The sudden pull on his arm throws his aim off and the cannon fires into a bench, leaving a charred hole the size of a man’s torso where the laser hits.

You see a piece of charred sandwich wrapper comically flutter away from the blast as a familiar voice calls out to you, using your alias of Spider.

Your head whips to see Miguel. Miguel, who you’ve just saved.

Miguel who could be vaporized right now.

“Wrap him up!” He shouts, and you nod, Miguel charging Venture while you have his arm webbed and unable to aim at him.

You seem to realize at the same time that Venture does that just because he cannot pull against your web to shoot Miguel, doesn’t mean he can’t just turn towards you.

You don't register the words, but you recognize Miguel’s shout as you backflip and narrowly dodge yet another blast from Venture’s laser cannon arm. When you’ve righted yourself you see Venture firing wildly, Miguel’s talons digging into and cracking the cannon as he shoves it aside.

You’re sprinting towards them, shooting webs to pin the cannon arm to the ground before Venture can raise it and shoot Miguel, who’s baring his teeth to bite down on the man’s other arm.

Alarm bells.

“Wait, don’t–!” You cry, shooting webs to pin down Venture’s other arm, grabbing Miguel’s shoulder to pull him back.

“Why not?!” He snarls, whipping his head and shoulders to face you, all adrenaline and teeth and talons as he crouches over Venture.

“He’s not– He’s all– he’s all juiced up with electricity–” you scramble to explain, waving your hands around.

His eyes dart over your face, your body, catching on your scraped hands, knee, and elbow. He stiffens further, breathing heavily from the short fight. In the blink of an eye he whips back around, punches Venture in the face, knocking him out cold.

“Jesus,” you whisper, eyes wide.

Miguel rises and begins to tie Venture up with his own webs, tearing yours off the now unconscious figure’s arms so that they’re no longer stuck to the ground. You’ve seen his talons before, of course, but you can’t help but stare at the quick work they make of your webs.

His mask is back on when he straightens to his full height, turning to look at you.

“Are you alright?” He asks, nodding his head at your scrapes.

You blink under your mask, looking down. Only now do you see that the scrapes on one of your hands and on your knee are bleeding again. As the fog of adrenaline begins to recede the sting of pain comes in to replace it.

“Oh, yeah. This wasn’t him, this was… earlier.” You flex your hands slightly at the growing sting in your palms, glad he can’t see your slight grimace under your mask. “It’s been an… eventful day.”

Miguel stares at you for a moment, before looking down to tap his watch. “Come to HQ.”

You nod.

Miguel insists you get your scrapes cleaned up by one of the medically trained Spider-Men at HQ when you get back. He lurks in the corner, his elbow resting on his other arm crossed over his ribs as he taps at his chin, his bottom lip. He takes brief breaks from glaring at the floor to take the occasional quick glance up at you, his fingers pausing in their tapping when he does.

“No significant debris,” Doctor Spidey says, pushing away on his stool to retrieve bandages where they sit waiting on the counter nearby after cleaning your scrapes. “They’ll heal up fast, just keep it clean for the next while until they do.”

You nod, keeping your palm out for him to wrap. Both of you try to pretend that Miguel isn’t hovering in the corner while bandages are wrapped around your palms, your outer forearm, and your knee.

“Alright!” Doctor Spidey says. “You’re good to go.”

After expressing your thanks you exit the doctor’s office, Miguel’s towering form following behind you.

“How’d you get those anyway?”

You turn to look at him, a brief jolt going through you when you find his eyes already on you. His brow is furrowed, and the muscle in his jaw twitches when he turns his gaze forward to focus on the path of the hall you both journey down.

“Oh, um, car chase earlier,” you say, wishing you had pockets to put your hands into. You finally look away, watching the ground in front of your feet.

Miguel’s form by your side eats up your awareness, even as you pass other Spider-People and exchange passing hellos. Something restless and hot rolls off his body, and it swallows you up like water.

“You need to be more careful,” he says, and his voice is sharp with agitation, frustration.

You bristle at his tone.

“I am careful. I was careful.” You frown, turning to look at him.

The muscle in his jaw twitches again.

“Yeah. Clearly.” He says, glancing at your injuries and looking away just as you frown and start to open your mouth.

“Miguel, hey! Oh-ho, and our little Garden Spider?”

It’s Peter who interrupts whatever it is you're about to say to Miguel. As usual he has May with him in the baby carrier, and her pudgy little hands hold onto his fingers as he absentmindedly bounces them in the air.

You do your best to school your features, your mask clenched in your hand as you try to take your attention back from Miguel and his now crossed arms in the corner of your vision.

“Hey Peter,” you give a close lipped smile, hoping it doesn't look as tense and forced as it feels.

He glances between the two of you, Miguel’s tense body and crossed arms, then your own stiff posture and your bandages.

“Damn,” he raises his eyebrows. “What happened to you ?”

Miguel’s crossed arms tense in the corner of your eye.

“Car chase,” you manage to say. “Slipped.” You shrug, mustering up every ounce of nonchalance in your body.

“Oh,” he laughs. “I’ve been there. Road rash is no fun. Y’know, one time–”

“Peter, as fascinating as I’m sure this story is, I have things to get to,” Miguel interrupts.

“Right,” Peter shrugs it off like it's no big deal, stepping out of the way. “You’re missing out though, it’s a pretty good story.”

“Uh-huh.” Miguel lets his arms uncross as he starts to walk again, and he gets a few large strides past Peter before he falters to a stop, turning to look back over his shoulder.

You want to continue on walking with him, you really do. That new feeling you’re getting all too familiar with, the one that squeezes your ribs, returns when his eyes meet yours. He hesitates, something unsure in his eyes.

“We still need to debrief,” Miguel says.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Miguel hesitates still, turning away at last and then walking away, shoulders tense.

Once Miguel turns the corner, Peter turns to you. “I feel like I interrupted something.”

You slump slightly, rubbing your now furrowed brow. “Today sucks, Peter.”

“Aw, hey,” Peter says, stepping closer to put a fatherly arm over your shoulders, May reaching out to pat you. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head. “No, I should…” you trail off and gesture in the direction Miguel had left.

“Right. Baaad idea to keep boss-man waiting.”

You nod. Peter pats your back.

“Listen,” he says, pulling back but keeping a hand on your shoulder as you lift a hand to let May grab your finger. “Whatever it is, it’s just because he cares. You know that right?”

You nod. “Yeah, I know.” Letting go of May’s hand, you give Peter a tired, thankful smile. “I’ll see you around.”

You’re almost out of earshot when you hear Peter mumble to May:

“Those two are killing me, kid.”

<< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >>

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #x reader #spiderverse x reader

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suhnshinehaos · 11 months

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growing pains : act three, part three (2/2)

series synopsis : people say that you’ll experience three kinds of love in your lifetime. the first is an idealistic love, the kind that feels straight out of a fairy tale. the second is the hard love, the kind that will leave you with lessons about yourself and the love you want and need to experience. finally, the love you never see coming. this is the story of your three loves. pairing : svt 97 line x gn!reader genre/s : non-idol au, coming of age, angst, fluff, my attempts at humor act three, part three wc : ~1.3k

act three : the unexpected love ➤ part 3 : editor-director supreme

after years studying and working abroad, yn is finally back home to a new job and new faces. all they want now is to focus on nothing else but their career and one of their coworker’s friends, minghao, makes it all the more interesting.

previous ➤ act three, part three (1/2) next ➤ act three, part four growing pains ➤ masterlist

“are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” jun asks, his hand on the back of your chair. but you don’t look back at him, your focus on the screen in front of you as you review the pictures you just took of him.

it’s a routine at this point. he’s taken his makeup off, he’s back in the clothes he wore earlier in the day. he tells you that he could give you a ride home, especially considering how late it was. the set’s being cleaned up, the staffs is putting away their things, yet you’re showing no sign of getting ready to leave.

“don’t worry, i won’t stay too long.”

“you said that last time.” jun replies. a sigh escapes his lips right after, knowing that there’s no convincing you. like someone else he knew, you were much too dedicated to your work. despite knowing that you don’t see him, he fights off the smile threatening to make its way on his lips. minghao never confirmed in his text that he would actually go, but he knew his friend.

he pats your shoulder a couple of times. “alright. let me know when you get home.”

“i will, thanks.” you finally look up at him with a smile. “great work today, jun. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“you too, yn. take it easy, okay?”

jun leaves and you place your attention back towards your laptop, taking note of the pictures you knew you would be making the cut. you don’t even attempt to fight off the frown on your face when you realize that most of them were made from the instructions that minghao had given. of course, you made your own calls and decisions for some of the photos as well, but it disheartened you a bit that they weren’t as good.

you’re not too sure how long it’s been since jun left. or how many goodbyes you’ve said to people, the lighting crew, the stylists, the production assistants. you’re sure that you’ve pretty much burned through the arrow keys of your laptop that the symbols have partially faded. your eyes feel heavier and your lean back in your seat, stretching your arms over your head as you let out a yawn.

“you shouldn’t be here this late.”

you stop yourself mid-yawn. eyes wide as you turn to the source of the sound.

xu minghao stands there, just a few of feet away. his hands are stuffed inside the pockets of his pants, and there’s a look on his face that you can’t quite place. there’s a feeling building in the pit of your stomach, an emotion you can’t quite place either. perhaps contempt. maybe surprise.

still, you wonder why he’s here in the first place. especially after not showing up the past couple of days.

“neither should you.”

you don’t mean for your tone to be so sharp, but you turn away from him and back to the screen.

“that’s fair.” minghao chuckles, but it’s devoid of humor or lightheartedness. he walks towards you, dragging one of the nearby chairs with him.

you raise a brow when he places the chair next to yours, not close enough for your arms to brush but not too far that you don’t register the scent of his cologne, and takes a seat. “what are you doing?”

“keeping you company.” he brings your laptop towards, so it’s right in between the two of you. minghao scrolls through the very top and begins looking through the photos.

you bite the inside of your cheek, and you can’t help but stare at him in complete astonishment. not even five minutes in and he’s already taken charge. it’s already off hours, and he wasn’t even there for the shoot. what gave him the nerve?

“look at the photos, not me.”

his voice is as monotone as it comes and you scoff, but still turn your gaze back towards the screen. “are you sure you’re just keeping me company?”

“hm.” minghao hums, not exactly answering your question and continuing to breeze through the photos. his lips are pressed into a thin line and his brows are furrowed. “these are good. great work, yn.”

you blink back your shock, trying your hardest not to turn to him once more. it almost feels strange to be complimented, mostly because he says it in such a matter-of-fact way that it doesn’t even feel like a compliment. “it’s thanks to your suggestions.”

minghao sees you in his peripheral, and he’s aware enough to pick out the slight disdain in your tone. he shakes his head, stopping at one of the pictures where he knows he didn’t have any sort of influence in — a picture that didn’t come from one of his suggestions.

“not all of them. look-” he turns the laptop slightly towards you, both of you leaning in closer. “-this is an interesting one. dynamic, good movement. exposure is a bit too much, but nothing that can’t be fixed in post.”

you nod, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. even when he’s giving out compliments, he still can’t help but critique something. it almost feels strange to have this sense of disdain towards someone, having never experienced the feeling before. nearly all of the projects you’ve worked on have been a collaborative effort, you’re not entirely used to someone exerting this amount of control on a shoot.

was it earned? of course. your coworkers spoke so highly of him that you couldn’t help but do a bit of research on your own. minghao was already building an impressive portfolio before you were even accepted into university. he was nothing short of a prodigy.

a silence falls between the two of you, and minghao can’t help but take one more quick glance at you as you processed his words. he doesn’t fail to notice the subtle clench of your jaw, or the quiet yet sharp intake of breath.

“did i-” he pauses, trying to find the right words. “-strike a nerve?”

you let the question hang in the air for a few more seconds. you bite your lip, then your tongue.

“no.”

the project wasn’t over yet, and you weren’t looking to create any bad blood. still, you could feel minghao’s gaze on you; intense, searching for any sign of dishonesty in your answer through your features. if he does find any, he chooses not to call you out on it.

the tension in the air is thick, palpable even as he continues to go through the photos, dictating the edits to be made and what could be improved. you nod along, opening the notes app in your phone to jot down everything he was saying. as much as you hated to admit it, his passion and expertise are as tangible as the tension. for a bit, the disdain you have was replaced with awe.

you’re not sure many minutes have passed until a security guard came up to both of you, telling you it was time to lock up.

“do you need a ride back?” he asks as you both exit the building.

“i’ll be taking the bus.” you nod towards the stop directly in front of the building. “thank you for the offer.”

“it’s late.”

“i’ll be fine.”

minghao sighs. there’s clearly no convincing you.

“alright. i hope you get back safe.”

the unmistakable sincerity in both his words and his tone surprises you for a second. you’re not sure if this is the same person you had just been going through photos with.

“i hope you do too.”

you mean it, and he can tell despite the apparent nonchalance in your expression.

without another word, you both go your separate ways.

from reese, with love <3

oh my ynhao... this is just the beginning you've still got quite the journey ahead hehe ++ some mh backstory crumbs,, we'll get more as the act progresses ;> hope you all enjoyed reading, i'd love to know what you think of our first written part of the act !! hope you're all doing well and taking care !

#🎐 — growing pains!#seventeen x reader #minghao x reader #seokmin x reader #mingyu x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen smau #seventeen sm aus #seventeen fluff #seventeen series #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt scenarios #svt smau #minghao imagines #minghao fluff #minghao smau

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ranidspace · 1 year

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people kept asking about the chair in my icosahedron post (im going to update it soon) but it's a reference to an inside joke which became an outside joke on my twitter. I made this image after an argument about how blender is easy to learn, where someone said "i should be able to make a chair in 5 minutes" to which i did. it became an inside joke on that discord server

i would just make random renders with the chair, including this one, which the icosahedron pit was actually based on, which is why I hid the chair in the icosahedron pit

where it became an outside joke was when someone asked me to make a trans chair, and i did, and for fun i posted it on twitter, and it got pretty popular

It ended up getting a SHIT ton of transphobes in the replies and in a now deleted tweet i screenshotted some of the hate i was getting and it got noticed extremely and i quickly got a bunch of followers. i ended up making a bunch of trans themed renders, some of which you MAY have seen before

these are the only kinda good ones. i did NOT model the tank, i found the model online and recoloured it, and the froggy chair model is just ripped from animal crossing. everything else i modeled. so yeah this is important ranidspace lore. shitposts under the cut

i also made these so idk im really sorry for the hair chair holy shit this is so many images in one post everyone say thank you for tumblr increasing the image limit in the new post editor. also i put this in a 3x3 grid but it's showing one image per row sorry idk how to fix that

#icosahedron saga #ranidspace lore #chair #trans chair #blender #shitpost blender #3d art

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harley-sunday · 1 year

Text

August Rush [10]

Summary: You’ve known Carlos for almost as long as you have been working in Formula One but you never expected it would take you seven years and a concussion to realise that maybe you like him as more than just a friend.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz jr x reader (OFC nicknamed Pip) | Max Verstappen x reader (best friends)

Warnings: Language. Slightly NSFW.

Word count: 6.9k.

AN: This is it, babes. The final part of this wild ride we all went on almost a year ago. I’m gonna miss writing for these two but I think the story I wanted to tell got told and it’s time for them to have their happy ending. I couldn’t have done this without my Devious Friend™, my editor-in-chief, and my greatest support. eL, this one’s for you, babe ♥ And for all of you - I meant what I said last time, please feel free to come yell at me in the comments. I would love to hear what you think!

Masterlist

Despite the weather forecast predicting nothing but rain this race weekend, it’s actually quite nice when you make it to Spa on Wednesday and so you’re enjoying a walk through the paddock in your Alpha Tauri-issued team polo with your sunglasses on and an iced coffee in your hand. Something about the calm before the storm, you think idly.

Spa is- It’s hectic. It’s the first race after the summer break and so there’s always a lot to catch up on, the last remnants of silly season still echoing through the paddock and some of the announced driver changes for next year raising a few eyebrows here and there. Like you expected, the news that your team has chosen to focus on the development of next year’s car has been met with very few questions and so, except for a press conference that isn't scheduled until tomorrow morning, there isn’t much for you to do except catch up with the other press officers and a few of your driver friends.

First stop is the Red Bull garage, where you find Max joking around with some of his pit crew, comparing tans and exchanging stories about their summer holidays. His smile grows even wider when he spots you and he gives you a quick wave, motioning for you to come over, “Hello.”

You step into his outstretched arms without a moment’s thought, “God, I’ve missed you, Maxy.”

He hugs you closer, “How are you?”

“Good,” you tell him, before you let go and take a step back. “I just wanted to hear if we’re still on for dinner with your mom tonight?”

“She’s been talking about nothing else ever since she got here,” Max chuckles. “I think we’re staying in the same hotel, right?” He waits for you to nod before he continues, “Ok, so why don’t we meet in the lobby at seven and I’ll ask mum to meet us there? I think she wants to go to that restaurant we went to last year also.”

“With that housemade ‘Stoofvlees’,” you try, no doubt butchering the pronunciation. Your mouth starts to water just thinking about the dish, a beef and onion stew that Sophie convinced you to try last year and that you have thought about ever since.

Max laughs, “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Perfect,” you agree with a nod as you start to walk backwards towards the pitlane, “I’ll see you at seven then.”

***

“Oh my God,” you roll your eyes and lean back in your chair, savouring the taste of your final bite. Holding your hand in front of your mouth then, because you still have some manners left, “That was so good!”

Sophie and Max share a look before they both let out a laugh and Max continues telling you about his holiday in Brazil, after you’ve already told them a little about your time in Mallorca, leaving out a few choice details of course.

Dinner with Sophie and Max is nice, it always is. You don’t get to see Sophie that often and when you do it’s usually just a quick hello in the paddock after quali or before the race and so to be able to sit down with her and Max and have a couple of hours to catch up is a small treat in and of itself.

When Max excuses himself to go to the bathroom, Sophie leans forwards and waits until he’s out of earshot before she softly says, “There’s something different about you, Pip.”

You smile and look down, trying to avoid her curious gaze because you know if she looks at you long enough you’ll just spill everything. Instead you trace the rim of your water glass with your fingers and shrug, “I’m just really in a good place, I guess. Work is going well and-”

“Hmm,” Sophie agrees half-heartedly, seeing right through your act. “It’s ok if you don’t want to tell me yet, sweetheart. I know how exciting it can be to keep something to yourself for a while.”

“Yeah,” you nod and look up at her, smiling almost apologetically, “I think I should tell Max first-”

She reaches over the table and puts her hand on yours, “Whatever it is or-” she smiles, “Whoever it is, I’m sure Max will be fine.”

“I know. It’s just-” you take a deep breath.

“He cares about you so much,” Sophie looks up then and when you follow her eyes you see Max making his way back to the table. She leans in closer, squeezes your hand and whispers, “He’ll be fine.”

***

During the drivers’ interviews on Thursday, pairing Pierre with Mick and Yuki with Fernando, you stay in the media room for all ten interviews like you always do, smiling when you see Carlos and Daniel walk on stage.

You’re all the way in the back of the room but still Carlos’ eyes find yours and the smile he sends you makes the heat rise to your cheeks. Daniel is too busy cracking jokes with one of the journalist to notice anything but then Carlos gets asked what he did over his summer holidays, which he answers with a very vague, “Not much, I enjoyed having some time off while also making sure I kept up with the training schedule,”, and all of a sudden Daniel’s all over him with cheeky grins and cheesy winks that are meant to let everyone know that, as far as Daniel’s concerned, Carlos is not telling the full story.

For a moment you’re worried Daniel knows- Something, but- He couldn’t, can’t he? Still, you clear your throat loud enough to catch Daniel’s attention and when his eyes land on you, you tell him to cut it out with a miniscule shake of your head.

He furrows his brows and you know he’ll give you shit for it later, but for now you’ve averted the crisis because the next journalist is already asking Carlos what he thinks of the weather forecast for this weekend and if he’s worried about the race being delayed.

***

“What was that all about, babe?”

You startle a little when Daniel’s warm breath hits your neck and so you curse quietly, which in turn makes him laugh, turning a few heads in your direction. You try to smile apologetically, knowing it’s best not to have the pinnacle of F1 journalism on your bad side.

“Bad conscience, huh?” He pinches your side and puts his mouth even closer to your ear, “So come on, spill the tea, what were you and Sainz up to this summer?”

“Nothing,” you whisper in his direction. “I just didn’t think it would be good for either team if they found out during a press conference that an Alpha Tauri employee spent their summer at a Ferrari driver’s house. There’s a time and place for that, Dan.”

Daniel sucks some air between his teeth, “Yeah, that could get nasty real’ quick, huh?” He slings his arm around your shoulder then and holds up his other hand, extending his pinky to you, “Pinky promise nothing happened?”

You don’t hesitate and hook your finger behind his, “Pinky promise.”

“Good,” he says and oddly enough it sounds as if he believes you because he nods to the podium then, “Let’s hear what these two have to say for themselves then, babe.”

You follow his eyes towards the podium, where Max and Charles are answering some rather boring answers about strategy and their expectations for this weekend.

***

Carlos finds you in the Alpha Tauri hospitality early on Friday morning, the paddock still relatively quiet and not too many other drivers yet around. It’s been your race week ritual ever since he moved from Toro Rosso to Renault and so you were already waiting with an espresso for him and a cappuccino for you. It’s weird, having to act as if you’re still just friends because God, you really want to kiss him. To distract yourself you keep playing with the charm on your bracelet.

He notices, of course he does, and says, with one raised eyebrow and a rather mischievous grin, “If you would just tell him we could- You know-”

“Carlos-” You add a dramatic sigh for full effect. “Later. Ok?”

“Later today, or-” Carlos lets out a laugh when you throw him a look, “What? I need to know how to plan my day, cariño. Can I kiss you? Can I not ki-”

“Carlos!” You put your hand over his mouth and look around rather panicked, hoping nobody has heard him. It doesn’t seem anyone did, “You are a menace, you know that.”

Carlos wiggles his eyebrows and nips at the palm of your hand.

“Oh Jesus Christ.” You let out a sigh and pull back your hand, “I will tell him after the race, ok? I promise.”

He pouts. Of course he does.

You shake your head but can’t help but laugh, “Two more days, babe. You’ll manage.”

“Babe?”

Shit. You turn around and try your best to act cool, “Hi Lando.”

Lando seems unimpressed and points at Carlos, “What are you calling him ‘babe’ for?”

“She’s angry,” Carlos says before you even have the chance to come up with an excuse. When Lando looks between you and Carlos and back, looking more confused than ever, Carlos leans in and whispers, “Did you never notice she calls people ‘babe’ whenever she tries to get her point across even though she knows you’re not gonna listen?”

And, oh damn if that isn’t the truth. You just never knew he picked up on that.

Landos squints at you but doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and just as you’re convinced he’s not buying it he starts nodding enthusiastically, “She does!”

“Lando!” You playfully smack his chest, “You’re supposed to disagree, babe.”

Lando’s eyes widen and then he lets out a cackle, “You’re literally doing it right now.”

You can’t help but laugh but throw Carlos a quick wink when Lando isn’t looking and mouth a quiet, “Nice save.”

***

While the first free practice is rather uneventful, FP2 has Max losing control of the rear of his car and spinning out at Malmedy, hitting the wall. Despite that he still manages to set the fastest time and so you’re not too worried about him or the car, although you still send him a text to make sure he’s ok.

It’s nearing the end of the day and so you’re busy gathering your things when you hear your name being called from outside the garage. When you look up and see your best friend standing there, waving enthusiastically, you can’t help but run over to her and throw yourself at her for a hug, “Hi friend!”

“Hi babe,” she hugs you closer. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you admit easily enough.

She lets go then and puts her hands on your arms, “Now tell me, how are things with that boy toy of yours? I want to know everything.”

“Flo,” you warn through gritted teeth, a quick look around to make sure Pierre isn’t within earshot, “not here.”

“Fine,” she huffs. “During dinner then.” She looks at you expectantly, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, let me just grab my things-” you say and nod towards your bag and jacket. “I do want to get changed first though, so we’re stopping at my hotel first, ok?”

“Ok,” she echoes, the word dramatically drawn out, “but you're driving.”

***

“So yeah, friends with benefits,” you conclude your story of your time with Carlos.

Flo eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t say anything.

“We’re just having fun-” you try again but it sounds rather unconvincing and you hope she’s not going to push it. You feel terrible lying to your best friend but you really want to tell Max first and so you add with a cheek grin, “-and great sex, so win-win.”

“Hmm,” she hums, leaning back in her chair, a glass of wine dangling between her fingers. “There’s something you’re not telling me, though.” A wicked grin then, “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”

“Counting on it,” you challenge her, holding up your glass. “Cheers, babe.”

***

Saturday has a change of weather and all of a sudden you find yourself waiting in the garage, the first qualifying session delayed by fifteen minutes because of the rain that’s absolutely pouring down. You’re not really needed for qualifying but you like to show your support to both Yuki and Pierre and so you tend to hang around anyway.

When it’s finally time to get started, you find your way to the TV screens lining the wall and watch the first round of quali unfold with Pyry, Pierre’s trainer, standing next to you, absolutely towering over you. Flo is standing on Pyry’s other side, nervously chewing on the cuticle of her thumb as her eyes are glued on the screen. You know Spa holds some horrendous memories for her and that she’s not just watching Pierre but Charles as well and so you stand next to her and take her free hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Together you see Yuki getting eliminated after the first stint and Carlos and Charles stranding in Q2, while Pierre and Max advance to Q3, where a crash from Lando brings out the red flags after only a few minutes of racing, which means Max takes pole and Pierre starts sixth on the grid tomorrow.

***

You’re in the media pen with Pierre once qualifying is over and zone out a little when he’s answering questions from Ziggo Sports because their reporter Jack has a very roundabout way of asking something that’s always rather simple. You can’t wait to get out of this cold and so you’re sort of daydreaming about the hot shower waiting for you in your hotel room. It’s then you see Carlos walking over to Sky Sports who are lined up next to where you’re standing and you can feel your heart skip a beat because God, he looks good.

He catches you looking and throws you a wink, taking off his cap and running a hand through his hair, knowing exactly what it does to you.

You quickly avert your eyes and try to focus on Jack’s next question but it turns out the interview is over and thus so are Pierre’s media duties. You walk back to the garage together in silence, both of you lost in thought. Before he disappears into his driver's room to get changed, you remind him there’s a scheduled post going up on his Instagram in an hour or so and then continue on towards the Alpha Tauri offices to collect your bag so you can head out and call it a day.

You’re in a relatively quiet part of the paddock when you feel someone walking up behind you and before you can even turn around there are two hands on your hips, gently pushing you into a dark corner in between the Alpha Tauri and Ferrari garages. You gasp, ready to punch whoever has grabbed you but then you hear a low chuckle that you’d recognize anywhere and so instead you turn around and gently slap his chest, whispering a berating, “Carlos!”

“What?” He tries to act all innocent while grinning wickedly, “There’s no one around, cariño. And I really, really want to kiss you. If I have to wait until Sunday evening I won’t survive.”

You let out a giggle, hiding your face against his chest, “You’re so dramatic.”

“It’s why you love me,” he counters almost instantly. “Let me kiss you?”

“We can’t-” you try but you know it’s a losing battle when he puts his fingers under your chin and tilts your head back, making you look up at him.

He licks his lips and lets his eyes fall to your mouth, “Please?”

You don’t say anything but instead push yourself up, brushing your lips against his, letting out a tiny whimper when he kisses back, hard. Soon enough you feel yourself getting lost in the kiss, your hands sneaking into his hair, wishing you could stop time for just five minutes or so.

Carlos has just slipped his tongue inside your mouth, making you moan a little, when you hear a manic laugh coming from somewhere close by.

Both you and Carlos pull back at the same time and you hold onto his arms as you look around him, trying to find the culprit. Maybe it’s not that bad. Maybe they were laughing at something else. Maybe it’s-

It’s Pierre.

Oh shit.

You curse quietly and step to the side, rounding Carlos, arms outstretched to your driver as if any sudden movements will set something in motion you’re not ready to deal with yet.

Pierre shakes his head, still laughing, and holds up his phone, snapping a picture, “C’est chaud ça, hein?”

“Pierre Jean-Jacques Gasly,” you warn him, using your best mom-voice as you slowly walk towards him, “don’t you dare. Delete that.” Dropping your voice then, hoping it will get your point across, “Now.”

It’s no use, his fingers are already hovering over the screen, his lips curled up in a manic grin, “Oh, this is so good-”

“What are you doing?” Your voice is a little high-pitched but Jesus, if he puts any of this on Instagram-

It’s then he looks up and when he sees how close you are he tries to act very innocent all of a sudden, dropping his smile and shrugging, “Nothing.”

You take a deep breath, trying your hardest not to panic, “Give me your phone.”

“What? No.” Pierre takes a step back and hides his phone behind his back.

“Cabrón,” Carlos says from over your shoulder, his voice low and a warning there that makes a shiver run down your spine. “Give her your phone.”

“I didn’t do anything stupid, ok? I just wanted proof. So I can collect my winnings-” He seems to realise his mistake the moment the words leave his mouth and he tries to cover it up by adding, “It’s not online, I swear.”

You look at him in shock, starting to connect dots you’re not sure you want to connect, “Winnings? What? Do you have a bet going on or-?” It’s then you remember your call with Flo, where she told you to figure things out before Spa and- You can’t believe Pierre and Flo would actually bet on you getting together with Carlos. Then again- You shake your head, figure you can worry about that later. Your first priority is getting Pierre’s phone and if he wants to piss you off some more by not giving it to you, fine. You’ll go get it yourself.

Out of nowhere you lunge forward, pushing Pierre against the back of the Ferrari garage and distracting him with a well aimed flick to his cheek-

“Oi!”

-and reach behind him, taking the phone and running back to hide behind Carlos. Pierre’s phone is locked but of course you know the code and so you pull up his last used app, a little surprised to see it’s Whatsapp, and open the most recent message thread, which is a group chat called “Chili and Pip 2021” and for a brief moment you wonder how many previous group chats there have been that they had to add a year to the name. You file that away for later because there are too many contacts in the group for it to just be him and Flo. Jesus.

The last message Pierre sent in the chat is the picture he took, showing Carlos’ back and you behind him, looking absolutely livid. The message he attached a very eloquent, ‘Busted!’

“I can explain-” Pierre tries, and at least now he has the decency to look a little guilty.

“I want you-” you point his phone at him, “-Flo, and everyone else in this fuckin’ group chat in my office in ten minutes,” you tell him through gritted teeth, stepping in front of Carlos then to make your point. “And I’m keeping your phone so you can’t pull any more bullshit, Gasly.”

“But-”

“Nine minutes and forty seconds,” you warn him, turning on your heels then and hold out your hand, waiting until Carlos takes it before you tug him towards the Alpha Tauri building.

When you reach your office, you can’t help but laugh, “Oh, this is going to be fuckin’ awesome.”

Carlos seems confused.

You let go of his hand and lean against your desk, “I know this is not the reaction you expected but- Ok. So. Honestly? I’m actually not surprised they made a bet out of it, I mean- It’s- It’s what we do. When Charles and Flo first started to realise that maybe they liked each other as more than friends, Pierre and I bet on how long it would take him to make it Instagram official so- I won, by the way,” you add with a grin. You wave your hand around, “Not really the point. Anyway, the thing I’m most upset about is that I didn’t figure this out sooner-”

“Why?” He looks at you like he’s afraid you’ve lost your mind, which honestly, after the way you’ve been rambling, you can understand.

“So we could have messed up their wagers,” you explain. “We could have pretended to have gotten into a big fight or- I could have made up a boyfriend, you know? Just, mess with them a little.”

Carlos visibly relaxes and nods, admitting with a shy smile, “Pierre once bet me that Charles would cry during his first podium.” He shrugs and his smile grows wider then, “He lost.”

You can’t help but laugh, “I should have known this would happen. Ugh-” you let out a frustrated sigh but then clap your hands together, “Ok. Here’s what we’re going to do-”

***

“Everyone here?” You look at Pierre, who nods. You’re not convinced, “Where’s Max?”

“Max isn’t in on this-”

Oh, thank God.

“-he doesn’t know anything about this,” Daniel pipes up from where he’s leaning against the wall. “We know how protective he is of you and-"

“Ok. Thank you, Daniel.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing when you see Daniel shrink back against the wall like a naughty schoolboy who has been told off by the headmaster. You’re leaning against your desk, hands resting on the cool surface on either side of you, and look across the room.

All the usual suspects are here; Pierre, Charles, Flo, Lando, Daniel- You’re a little surprised to see Yuki here but then again, are you really? You know from experience that Pierre can be quite persuasive and so he probably bullied the younger driver into taking part. No, the one that surprises you most is Rupert, Carlos’ personal trainer. When your eyes land on him you shake your head, hoping it conveys your disbelief, “Really Rupert?”

He laughs and shrugs, “I’ve been seeing you two-” he says with a nod towards Carlos, “- dance around each other since his first year in Formula One, darling. I’m honestly surprised it has taken you this long to figure it out.”

The rest of the drivers in the room nod in agreement. Flo even has the audacity to throw you a look that says ‘Told you so.’

“Anyway,” you continue, focusing on Pierre again. “Since you seem to be the ringleader, Gasly, please explain what’s going on here?”

“Well, I-” Pierre runs a hand through his hair and looks at Flo for backup.

“No. nu-uh.” She shakes her head, “This was all you, Gas.”

His eyes widen in shock at the betrayal by his friend, “Do I need to remind you about-”

“You do not,” Flo bites back. “We both know what happened that night.” As always, they only need half a word to have a full conversation. Flo crosses her arms in front of her chest then, “You’re the one who created the group chat, non?”

Next to her Lando and Yuki nod but then Pierre throws them a warning look and suddenly their shoes are much more interesting to look at. Lando, at least, has the decency to blush.

“I can’t believe you’re going to let me take the blame for this,” Pierre says under his breath before he turns back to you. “Fine. Ok. So-”

You hold up your hand to get him to stop talking and shake your head, “I don’t need all the details. Just tell me who got it right and how much they won.”

Pierre shrugs, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, “I did.”

“Hey. No,” Yuki says then. “You said race day at Spa, Pierre. It’s not race day yet, is it?”

“Exactly,” Flo joins in. “So I won.”

“No. No, no,” Lando jumps in and points at Flo, “You said before Spa. So technically you both got it wrong.”

You let out what you hope is a frustrated sigh, “Ok, so did no one get it right, or-”

Charles shakes his head in reply, “No. But I think Pierre is the closest.”

“That doesn’t count though, does it?” Carlos says from where he’s standing next to you and when you risk a glance in his direction you can tell he’s trying his hardest not to laugh.

“I guess not,” Charles agrees quietly, hanging his head.

“Ok, so then the money is ours,” you say with a shrug as if that settles it. “Perfect.”

A round of protests starts across the room, Pierre arguing that that’s not how it works, while Yuki suggests using the money for a new bet instead, and Lando saying that because you weren’t in on the bet you couldn’t possibly win.

From the corner of your eye you see Daniel push himself off the wall, drawing your attention with a quick wave, “Babe, it has been swell, but Michael’s waiting on me for some guided meditation or- Whatever. I gotta skedaddle out of here.” He reaches into the pocket of his jeans then and pulls out a folded fifty Euro bill, reaching over Yuki to hand it to you, “I’ll make sure Michael pays you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Michael’s in on this as well?”

“Yep,” Daniel nods. “He had you down for Abu Dhabi, by the way-” he throws you a wink, “-So I’ll let him know he’s way off.”

“Sure. Ok. Whatever,” you reply, not surprised. Daniel is just about to open the door when you call out to him, “Dan?” When he turns around you lock eyes with him, “Not a word about this to Max, ok?” You look at everyone in the room then, “I mean it, guys. He can’t hear this from you.”

A chorus of, “We know,” echoes across the room.

“Good.” A smile then, “Thank you.”

“So,” Pierre starts hesitantly, testing the waters, “can we go now, or-”

“Well first of all, you are an idiot for thinking we would announce our relationship on race day.” You scoff, “Have I taught you nothing in our years of working together?”

Pierre hangs his head and repeats from memory, a mocking tone to his voice, “No important news during race weekends. We wait until we’re in between races before we put out personal news.”

“Exactly.” You push yourself off your desk then, “And second of all, it looks like you all owe me fifty Euros, suckers-” you hold out your hand and grin, “- so pay up.”

***

“I really should go see Max,” you tell Carlos once it’s just you and him, and an unexpected three hundred Euros in your back pocket.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

You think about it for a second and then nod, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Ok,” Carlos presses a kiss to your temple. “Do you know where he is?”

“Probably still in the garage,”

Carlos laughs, “Yes, I think that might be our best shot.”

***

Sure enough you find Max in the back of the Red Bull garage, going over some data with GP. You walk up to him, Carlos waiting outside because even though they tolerate employees of the sister team in here, you’re not sure it would go over well if you invited one of Red Bull’s main competitors into the lion’s den.

“Max?” You smile as he looks up from the screen and nod towards the pit lane, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

He looks at GP, who nods, “Yeah, we are done here anyway.” Max follows you outside without asking questions and if he’s surprised to see Carlos standing there he doesn’t show it and instead looks at you expectantly, “What do you want to talk about?”

“So,” you draw out, hoping a few extra seconds will help you find the right words, “I have to tell you something. And I need you to not freak out-”

“I won’t-”

“You freak out, Max,” you tell him with a kind smile. “Remember when I told you I missed my flight from Amsterdam and caught a ride with that guy who was driving to Paris so I could take a train from there?”

“Yeah, but that was of course dangerous, Pip,” Max berates you, arms folded in front of his chest now. “He could have been a murderer, or-”

“Yeah, ok,” you hold up your hand to stop him. “This is not that, ok. I am not in danger, so-”

“I’m not going to freak out,” Max says with a heavy sigh, “but you are getting on my nerves. Just tell me what’s going on.”

You take a deep breath and risk one last glance at Carlos, who gives you an encouraging nod, that does nothing to calm your nerves, “CarlosandIareinarelationship,”

Max furrows his brows, “What?”

“Carlos and I,” you repeat, slower this time. “We’re together. In a relationship. It’s very serious, at least uh- For me it is. And I uh-” you know you’re rambling but you can’t seem to stop, “I think Carlos is serious about it as well. I mean, he gave me a bracelet so-”

“Pip,” Carlos puts his hand on your arm and shakes his head, a smile tugging on his lips, “stop.”

You blow out a breath and look at Max, trying one last time, “Carlos and I are in a relationship.”

Max stays silent for a bit but then deadpans in that way only he can, “I of course know.”

“I-” you echo, confused. “You know?”

“Yes.”

“Ho- How?”

Then, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever, “I saw you kissing in the paddock earlier today.”

“Huh.” You look at Carlos, still panicking a little, pointing from you to him and back, “He saw us kissing in the paddock.”

“Seems like he did,” Carlos answers calmly as if somehow he knew Max knew all along.

“Did you know he saw us, or-”

Carlos shakes his head, “I did not but-”

You turn back to Max, “And you’re ok with this?” You’re not sure why you’re trying to self sabotage here but the question comes out almost on its own.

“Of course,” Max looks from you to Carlos as if he’s confused why you’re even having this conversation.

“Ok.” You nod, relieved, “Ok. Cool. Uhm-” you look at Carlos and shrug, “Well, I guess that’s that then.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t seriously hurt you if you ever hurt her,” Max says then, looking at Carlos with that determined look he gets whenever he tries to get his point across.

“I know, cabrón,” Carlos agrees easily enough. He claps Max on his back, “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

***

EPILOGUE

It’s after Abu Dhabi and its controversial last race, where Max beats Lewis on the last lap and thus wins the championship, after post-season testing, after a hug goodbye and a promise to stay in contact over the winter break to both Yuki and Pierre, and after a quick stop in Monaco where Max gets off his plane and wishes you safe travels, leaving you in the hands of his trusted cabin crew, that you find yourself on your way Mallorca once again.

This time Carlos is waiting for you at the airport, standing a little to the side so as to not draw attention to himself, a black baseball cap drawn over his eyes, and his hands in the pockets of his jeans. You spot him before he sees you and you swear your heart skips a beat the moment he looks up and you lock eyes with him.

God, you’ve missed him.

Sure, you’ve seen him just about every other weekend since you left Mallorca in August but other than some stolen glances in the paddock, your regular coffee dates, and some very spicy text messages and phone calls, you haven’t actually been with him and it’s gotten more and more difficult as time went by and so it takes everything you have not to run up to him.

Instead, there’s a chaste hug when he greets you, knowing the airport arrivals hall is too much of a public space to do anything but.

It isn’t until you sit down in the passenger’s seat of his car that’s parked in a far away corner in the garage, that he leans in and kisses you fiercely, tongue running between your lips almost immediately. You open your mouth greedily, your tongue chasing his into his mouth before you lick the inside of his cheek, savouring his taste.

Carlos pulls back then and mutters something in Spanish that you don’t quite catch but can figure out the meaning of soon enough when he steps back and rounds the car, leaving you to catch your breath on your own. When he steps inside he throws you a look that makes you shiver but doesn’t say anything, instead starting the car and backing up out of the parking space.

You put your seatbelt on and turn towards him in your seat, whispering a quiet, “Take me home, Carlos.”

***

Carlos circles your nipple with his tongue, making your arch your back, and you can feel him smile against your skin when you let out a quiet moan. He’s cupping your other breast with one hand while the other has two fingers inside you, slowly scissoring you open as his thumb rubs circles over your clit.

You haven’t even made it into the kitchen yet because he’s got you flush against the wall in the hallway, your dress pushed up to your hips and your panties discarded somewhere between the front door and here. “Carlos,” you sigh, your hands cupping his face and guiding his mouth back to yours, the kiss drenched in want and need and-

“I don’t care how we do it,” Carlos says against the corner of your mouth, “but I’m done hiding you from the rest of the world, mami.” He pulls back a little and looks at you, pupils blown wide, “I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

You hum in agreement, throwing your head back so he can kiss his way back to your chest, your hands in his hair now to keep him in place. “All yours, baby,” you whisper, your voice a little hoarse. You cry out when he adds a third finger without warning, your eyes flying open when you feel him drag his mouth from your breasts to your stomach and further down, watching as he drops to his knees and laps at your clit, “Fuck, that’s it. Right there-”

He looks up at you and actually winks before he slides his hand behind your knee and pulls your leg up onto his shoulder for better access.

The quiet whimper you let out when he pulls his fingers out of you is quickly replaced by a moan when you feel his tongue slide inside and he starts eating you out for real. You grip onto his hair a little tighter and grind your hips against his face, quietly pleading, “Don’t stop,” over and over and over again.

***

“Can’t we just stay here forever,” you muse quietly, your fingers ghosting over his chest, sometimes playing with the charm that’s hanging from his necklace. Behind the curtains the sky is a vivid orange, casting a faint glow into the bedroom that makes it feel like you’re in a movie. “I’ve saved up a nice bit of money and I’m sure you don’t have to work like, ever again-” above you Carlos chuckles, “-so I think we could make it work.”

“Maybe. But I know mamà would kill us if we don’t make it home for Christmas, cariño,” Carlos reasons, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “so-”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agree quietly. You look up at him then, “Speaking of Christmas-I have an early Christmas present for you.”

Carlos raises his eyebrows, “Oh?”

You reach over him and grab your phone, pulling up the app you use for scheduled posts and angling the screen towards him, “I want to post this tonight. I’m done keeping you a secret.”

He takes your phone from you and scrolls through the five pictures you’ve edited, showing a curated timeline of your relationship since August, the first one a picture of him that you secretly took yesterday, when you were waiting on your food in a café in Cala d’Or, the rest of them selfies of you and him throughout the moments you shared together until now. His smile grows wider when he reads the caption before he looks at you again, “You sure?”

“Very,” you confirm easily enough and push yourself up so you can let your lips ghost over his. “We’ve waited long enough.”

***

“Ok,” you refresh the page to confirm. “Done.”

Next to you Carlos nods, “Good.”

You’re on the couch in the living room, your feet resting in Carlos’ lap, both of you enjoying a glass of red wine. Before you even have a chance to lock your phone it rings, the name of your best friend popping up on your screen and you can’t help but grin when you show Carlos before you accept the call and put it on speaker, “Hi Maxy,”

“Pip-” his voice catches and so he tries again, “Pip, I think you made a mistake.”

“What are you-”

“You posted to your public account,” Max continues, panic seeping through his voice. “I don’t think- This should of course go on your private account. What if anyone- Oh Godverdomme” he lets out a shaky sigh, “you already have a hundred likes. You need to take it down, Pip, before-”

“Maxy,” you interrupt him with a smile, “breathe.” He’s still rambling and so you try again, “Max Emilian Verstappen, stop. Breathe. And go to Carlos’ profile.”

“But-”

“Do it.” You bite your lip to keep from laughing, Carlos already looking at you with a very bemused smile. In your head you count down, waiting for Max to understand, from three, to two, to one, to-

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” you agree easily enough, knowing Max has just seen the same caption with mostly the same pictures, on Carlos’ page. Except for the first one, where Carlos opted for a picture of you and Piñon sleeping together in the garden.

“So this was on purpose?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“And the team is ok with this?”

You let out a laugh, “Max, I love you but if you really think we posted this without running it by our bosses first I wonder if you even really know me.”

“Yeah, ok, that’s fair.” You can just imagine the way Max hangs his head. “Well, in that case I didn’t call.”

You can hear him start to say his goodbyes and so you quickly say, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

It stays quiet on the other end of the line for a few seconds but then you hear him let out a heavy sigh that you know is fake because you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Of course. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Maxy,” you say with a self-satisfied smile. “I’ll call you on Christmas Day, ok? Love you.”

“Ik ook van jou.” He clears his throat then, “Oh and Carlos?”

Carlos leans in, apparently not surprised that Max knows he was listening in, “Yes, cabrón?

“You’re very lucky to have her, mate. Don’t fuck it up.”

Carlos shakes his head even though Max can’t see him and looks at you with a warm smile, his hand wrapping around your wrist and his thumb rubbing the charm on your bracelet, “Never.”

Once you’ve said your goodbyes you put your phone on silent and toss it aside and when Carlos looks at you with a frown, you grin, “Everyone else can wait until tomorrow.”

“God, I love you,” Carlos mutters as he leans forward, swinging one leg over your hips so he’s lying on top of you, holding some of his weight off by resting on his elbows. He looks down at you and dips his head then, finding your mouth with his.

The kiss is different, slower, like you’re both desperate to savour every minute because you know there’s no rush. Not anymore. You let your hands run through his hair and when after a while he pulls back and collapses on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath hitting your skin in regular breaths, you wrap one leg around his waist and let out a content sigh, feeling your eyes grow heavy when you whisper, “I love you.”

“Te amo, mi reina.”

- FIN -

#Carlos Sainz x reader #F1 fanfic #CS55 #Carlos Sainz imagine #Carlos Sainz jr #Harley Sunday x Carlos Sainz jr

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traveler-at-heart · 2 years

Text

Hey, Romanoff!

Requested by @nooneno - Avengers are heroes, but also celebrities. Natasha hates this, especially the paparazzi that follow the team around. Then, she meets you. Enemies to lovers.

Her day got off to a wrong start.

“Hey, Romanoff”

Natasha knows that voice.

She hates that voice.

“You’re looking good” you insist, snapping a couple of pictures as the redhead keeps walking away from you. “Come on, turn around, show off your new hairstyle”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” she speaks, still not facing you.

“This is kind of my job, Natasha” you chuckle and she fights the urge to take your camera and throw it across the street.

Unfortunately, ever since Bucky broke one with his hands, all of the Avengers are on the spotlight.

Stupid paparazzi.

“Hey, these are good images. Ugh, except this one, you look like Ronald McDonald here”

“Excuse me?” the Russian stops, finally turning around.

“Gotcha” you say, finally getting an image of her face. You cackle when Natasha realizes what you’ve done.

Pleased with your pictures, you stop chasing after her. Your eyes linger on that last shot.

Natasha Romanoff may be a stuck up bitch, but she’s a very beautiful one.

“Have a nice day” you say and are met with the somewhat familiar view of her middle finger raised at you. “Beautiful! My editor’s gonna love this”

It’s just like every other day at the office. The rest of the team is sitting around at what your boss calls “the pit”.

“Morning, Tom-Tom” you greet, placing a latte in front of your coworker and friend. He smiles up at you and you ruffle his hair.

“Someone’s in a good mood. Did you spot your favorite celebrity?”

“Yeah, she got a haircut. It’s ridiculous how good she looks with anything” you take a seat next to him, sipping your hot cocoa.

“I’ll tell you what’s ridiculous; you won’t admit you have a crush on her, Flash”

“Shut it. I can’t believe that stupid nickname stuck around”

“You like that too” he teases and turns back to Eddie, making his typical entrance wearing jeans and a blue t-shirt.

“Morning, my despicable minions. Did you do your morning rounds? Who got the finger today?”

“I did!” you shout, proudly. “Romanoff”

“Holy shit, Flash! You win!”

“I know! It was awesome”

Eddie high fives you, because he loves to piss off Earth’s mightiest heroes. Something about his penthouse being destroyed during the battle of New York.

The rest of the meeting goes by as usual, commenting on the pictures and articles that will be going up in the following days. You’re the only girl in the team, but it’s actually nice and comfortable.

The guys go out of their way to take care of you, but it’s not like you need it. You’ve been out on your own since you can remember.

“Don’t forget that the Stark gala is two days from now. Tom and Andrew, you will be on duty”

“Actually…” Tom begins to speak but you interrupt him.

“I wanted to see if we can swap. You know, with Romanoff hating me and everything, I might get you some good pictures”

“Yeah, awesome. Whatever” Eddie says.

“What was that for? You know it’s my wife’s birthday” Tom nudges your side.

“Yeah and you know how weird he gets when people remind him you have lives outside of this shitty job. That way he won’t snap at you”

“Aw, it’s so nice you don’t have a life to piss him off”

“Don’t make me take back my offer, jerk”

Out of all the Avengers, Tony’s the nicest one to your lot. He always sticks around for a couple of pictures, making a cheeky comment and saying something silly as he walks away.

Steve is the nicest, obviously, but you can tell the attention makes him fidget. A polite smile is all you get before he goes inside Stark Tower.

Colonel Rhodes seems very pleased with the attention, but you roll your eyes. After taking pictures of some random people that insist they’re tabloid worthy -no, they’re not- Natasha finally arrives.

As usual, she ignores everyone.

“Hey, Romanoff” you wolf-whistle and she turns to you, a murder glare in her eyes. It’s all you need to get a decent photo, the rest of the people scrambling to get her attention.

“Nice” Andrew comments, looking over your shoulder. He’s the most experienced member of the team, and basically acts like your paparazzi-dad.

Less and less people walk through the main door and at this time, most photographers leave the place.

“You gonna stick around, kiddo?” Andrew checks as you sit by the back door.

“Yeah, maybe catch them smoking something crazy” you smile and he fist bumps you.

“Don’t stay too late, ok?”

“Yes, sir”

Your patience is rewarded fifteen minutes later, as Natasha walks out, a blonde woman following her.

“Romanoff” you shout again. The blonde turns around, smiling. You notice she’s younger than Natasha and when she speaks she has a thick Russian accent.

“Hi, there” she waves at you.

“Yelena, what the hell are you doing?” Natasha hisses, trying to drag the woman away from you.

“Greeting your friend, she called your name” the blonde explains, walking back to you.

“She’s not my friend, she’s with the tabloids”

“Like the paparazzi? That’s so cool. I want to pose” Yelena shows around her outfit and you go along, snapping a couple of pictures.

“Yeah, the camera loves you! You’re so much better than Natasha” the redhead growls at your words. “Hey, come on. I’m just complimenting your date, don’t get jealous”

“Oh, no” Yelena laughs. “She’s my sister, not my date”

“Stop telling her stuff, she’s gonna post it everywhere and people will know who you are”

“Wow, hey” you put the camera down, changing your demeanor. “I don’t want to risk her life. Here, I’ll delete the pictures. And I promise I won’t tell people you have a sister, ok?”

“No, I want to see the picturesss!” Yelena pleads, giving her sister some serious puppy eyes.

“Well, you could give me your number and I’ll send them to you?” you offer with a sly smile. You flirt your way out of every situation and to get exclusive information about the people you follow.

Why should this be any different now?

The blonde turns to her sister and speaks in Russian. Natasha rolls her eyes, but nods.

“Here” Yelena pulls a pen out of her coat, taking your arm and scribbling her number. “See you around…”

“Y/N or Flash, whatever you like”

“Flash” Yelena nods and winks at you.

For the first time since you’ve met her, Natasha looks back at you and she doesn’t seem annoyed at all.

That’s definitely new.

Days like these are your favorite. You’re sitting by your desk, next to the open window. It’s hard to explain, but the smell of the air reminds you of the rain; judging by the cloudy sky, it’s going to be pouring in a few hours.

You sip your cup of cocoa and sigh at the sweet taste of the drink.

“Ha, this one definitely goes to the folder” you drag an image, pleased with yourself.

The meme contest is coming up and you’re determined to win; you’ll give yourself an extra pat on the back if it’s with an image of Natasha doing a weird face or something.

So far, you have pictures from Barton, Tony Stark and some other celebrities that you find everytime you walk around the exclusive sites in New York City.

“One of Barnes, just for the fun of it” you mutter, browsing through your hard drive. Unfortunately, Bucky always looks the same -his face sporting a combination of a frown and a glare- so there’s not much you can do there.

Something else quickly catches your eye, though. You have pictures from Barnes in five different locations and every time, there’s a man following him. It’s hard to see his face, but he’s almost always taking pictures with a cheap camera.

“Huh” you sigh, saving all the pictures you can find of the mystery man in a separate folder. Then you go through every Avengers picture you have and the same thing happens.

Someone seems to be following them, acting as paparazzi to go unnoticed.

Or maybe you’re just paranoid.

Either way, you’d rather be safe than sorry. You grab the drive, knowing there’s a good chance Natasha won’t want to speak to you.

There’s even a better chance she’ll kick your ass.

It’s been two hours since you arrived at the SHIELD building. Apparently, you’re not even allowed to wait in the lobby without clearance so you’re forced to stand outside, your back to the wall and the front of your shirt soaked by the rain.

The rain is so dense you almost miss the two figures that leave a black car and run to one of the doors.

“Hey, wait” you run to them. Natasha stops so abruptly, you end up crashing against her back. “Go away”

“I need to speak to you”

“Flash! What’s wrong?” Yelena says, pushing you to the lobby. “You’re all wet, come in, before you get sick”

“What do you want?” Natasha eyes you curiously, noticing your soaked clothes.

“There’s something you need to see. Someone’s been following the Avengers”

“Yeah, right” she rolls her eyes.

“Please” you hand over the drive, not interested in arguing with her. The only thing you can do is warn her.

“Fine” she takes it and you nod, eager to go back to your place and take a shower.

“Wait! We’ll give you some dry clothes while we check this out. Then you’ll tell us everything you know”

“Ok” you sigh, relieved at the idea of getting warm again.

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?” Steve says, looking at the security camera as you wait around the interrogation room.

“I’m not sure. She doesn’t have any reason to lie about this. But she’s also extremely annoying”

“I’ve rarely seen you this annoyed at someone” Steve comments. “Why does she bother you so much?”

“Because she likes her” Yelena says behind them and Steve smiles, while Natasha turns to glare at her sister. “Oops, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. But come on, sestra, don’t be mad. You know it’s true”

“Let’s go, Rogers” Natasha rolls her eyes. As soon as she enters the room, your eyes meet hers and she quickly avoids your stare.

You take it as a sign that she’s still unhappy with your presence.

“Hi, Y/N” Steve greets you, sitting in front of you.

“Cap. Did you check the pictures? Am I crazy? Under arrest for wasting your time?”

“No, we think you’re right” Steve says. “You’re sure you’ve never seen any of the men in the pictures before?”

“Yes. I know everyone that works for the tabloids, even freelancers. The cameras they’re using seem super cheap; I doubt they’re getting decent images. It’s like… they’re props to play the part, if it makes sense?”

“We can’t do anything about it, though. It’s not illegal to be in the streets pretending to be photographing someone” Natasha speaks to no one in particular.

“Let’s run some of the images through facial recognition”

“I can keep an eye out. If I see them again, I’ll try to get better pictures and send them to you” you offer.

“No” Natasha interjects. Right, of course she’d never work with you. “If you see them again, call me”

“Oh, is that how you’re finally asking for my number?” you wiggle your eyebrows and she grumbles.

“I just don’t want you to do anything stupid. We have the upper hand and I’d like to keep it that way”

“Whatever you say, Romanoff”

Steve is trying to hide his smile at the exchange but you can see the amusement in his eyes.

By the time you get back to your apartment, all you want to do is sleep.

“Do not disturb” you complain when your phone pings.

Natasha: Remember to call me when you see them

Y/N: Who’s this?

Natasha: You’re not funny. And you left your drive here.

Y/N: Don’t open the meme folder.

Natasha: I’ll give you 20 dollars if you submit that last picture of Clint

Y/N: Deal

You smile at the screen of your phone. Who knew that Romanoff had it in her to be a joker.

You keep an eye out, but the team seems to be limiting their public outings while they figure out who’s watching them. Instead of going after the Avengers, you spend a couple of afternoons at the set of an upcoming show to “leak” the pictures and make the fans curious about the show.

Then, a quick tour around 30 Rock to photograph the stars arriving at the various talk shows hosted in the building.

When you finally get home, you heat some leftovers and wait for the microwave to ping while you stare out the window.

“Holy shit!” you launch yourself to the floor, crawling to your room. Without missing a beat, you pull out the camera and start taking pictures of a group of men, carrying something in a warehouse that’s been abandoned since you moved here.

They are the same men that have been following the Avengers.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up” you mutter with urgency as you try to reach Natasha.

“Where are you?”

“My place”

“Then why are you calling me?”

“Oh, I just wanted to hear your voice, Romanoff. Come on! I can see them from my window, they’re carrying something inside a warehouse”

“Send me the coordinates”

“Do I look like Google Maps, Natasha?”

“You know what I mean”

“Then ask for the address like a normal person”

“Shut up”

She hangs up and you keep peering out the window. You knew this place was a shithole but if it’s being used to hide criminals you really gotta move.

“Where are they?” Natasha walks past you, looking out the window. Most of the men are gone now, but there’s still a black USV outside. “License plates”

“Yeah” you grab your camera, trying to adjust the settings in the dark. You barely manage to take a picture before they drive away.

“I’m gonna need to use your computer to send this to Steve” she looks around and for the first time, you’re aware that Natasha Romanoff, the woman you antagonize almost on a daily basis, is standing in the middle of your apartment.

She looks a little out of place, but it’s not an unpleasant sight.

“What?” she snaps when you stare but the moment is gone, so you roll your eyes and point at her shoes.

“Mud. All over my floor”

“Sorry, I wasn’t aware you live in Buckingham Palace, princess”

“Just take the memory card and go”

“I’m not leaving” Natasha shakes her head, walking back to the kitchen.

“Excuse me?” you follow her around, whisper yelling, scared that the bad guys have super hearing.

“They could be back at any minute” she explains and you roll your eyes.

“Then I’ll send you pictures”

“You’re a civilian”

“And you’re a pain in the ass”

“It’s not up for discussion, Y/N'' she says and you know there’s really no point in arguing with her. So you cross your arms in front of you, anxious at the idea of spending hours alone with a woman that hates your guts.

“Here’s the computer. I’m taking a shower” you finally concede, walking away.

“Good, you stink” Natasha says, opening your laptop and only God knows how she manages to get your password on the first try.

“You’re such an ass”

By the time you’re done with your very long, very cold shower, you’ve lost your appetite, so you get a twinkie and walk back to your room. Natasha is sitting by the window, at an angle where she can see everything that happens on the street without getting caught.

“Nothing?” you say, your mouth full of bread.

“You’re going to rot your insides if you keep eating that”

“Come on, don’t knock it till you try it” you lean forward, offering the last bite of the twinkie. Natasha actually opens her mouth and lets you feed her. There’s something hypnotic about the way she holds your stare.

“It’s gross” she protests.

“Spitters are quitters”

You can allow a lot of things, but she absolutely will not waste the last bite of a twinkie, which is arguably the best.

“You’re even more gross”

“Sing it” you agree, leaning back in your bed. “You’re gonna sit there all night?”

“That’s what one does in a stake out”

“Ok, I’ll take the next shift. Wake me up when it’s my turn” you rest on your side. Natasha is amazed at how quickly you fall asleep, completely unfazed by her presence.

You’re either incredibly stupid, or you trust her completely.

She kinda wishes it’s the latter.

But a second later, you laugh in your sleep and mutter.

“I’m the Twin-Kween”

So, maybe you’re just really dumb.

It’s 4 AM when you stirr awake. Miss I-can-do-this-all-night is all but snoring in her chair by the window.

“Hey, get some sleep” you guide her to the bed and to your surprise, Natasha barely resists.

“Your coffee sucks”

“It’s decaf. Now, rest. I’ll let you know if anything happens”

Of course, it’s all quiet and as the sun rises, it’s even less likely that the criminals across the street will do anything too suspicious.

The view from the kitchen window is decent enough, so you start cooking breakfast for two. Pancakes and bacon will have to do for today.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you grimace as Natasha walks out of the room, her nose scrunching up adorably as she yawns.

Wait, no. It’s just a yawn. Nothing cute about it. Stop.

“It’s ok. I’m a light sleeper”

“Well, then. Breakfast will be ready soon” you promise.

“I don’t suppose you have a very strong cup of coffee”

“Sorry, it makes me all jittery. I can go get you some. Or offer you orange juice”

“Juice is fine, thanks” she looks around. “This smells great”

“What, no fancy chef at your fancy tower?” you flip a pancake and serve two in a plate. After setting some bacon on the side, you stretch your arm towards her. She looks like she’s about to say something else, but an incoming facetime call interrupts her.

“Ana Banana” you greet, leaning your phone against the sink. A child screams on the other side, and you quickly realize Ana’s phone is held hostage by her children. “Hey, bug, put mama on the line, will ya?”

“Children, stop it” she says, finally snatching the phone. “Hey, sis”

“Another manic day?”

“Yeah, you could say that. You ok? How’s your shitty job?”

“Same as usual” you shrug your shoulders, aware that Natasha is listening to everything.

“Well, I guess it’s not so bad if you get to see your celebrity crush, right?”

Well, shit.

You almost knock the pan as you try to hide your blush.

“Ana, you can’t say stuff like that. They’re super paranoid and probably listening to this. I mean, my phone is probably bugged or some shit”

Natasha is smirking.

“Is your boss still a jerk, though?”

“Is the Pope Catholic?”

“Fair enough”

“Listen, I got like a million errands. But is Jack ok? You need anything?”

“He’s getting better. Doctor Ray is a lot more optimistic after the last surgery. That check you sent really helped get the insurance off our backs. Thank you”

“Thank the hot redhead that gives me the finger every other day. That’s why I still have a job” you say, uncomfortable with Ana’s emotional speech. Natasha chuckles.

“Well, if I ever meet her, I’ll tell her she better be nice to my sister” a crash and some loud cry interrupt her.

“Go” you wave goodbye and the call ends.

Now you regret it, because there’s a silence hanging in the air as you finish with your pancakes.

“Sisters can be a pain” Natasha spares you the embarrassment and you nod.

“Yeah. I mean, we’re not sisters. We grew up together in a foster home, but still. She’s the closest thing I have to family, I guess”

“I’m sorry” you shrug your shoulders and keep eating, hoping she won’t ask anything else. But of course, it’s in her nature to know more. “Is your boss really an asshole?”

“Depends on the day. Most times he’s chill. And he likes my work, so I’m rarely in his path. But I do hate how he’s with the rest of the team. They’re nice people, even when you all hate our kind”

“That’s not exactly fair” her voice softens and your defenses immediately drop.

“Listen, I do it for the money. I was working as a freelance for a magazine, but then Ana’s kid got sick and I felt like I could do more, help her out and her husband. If I get to piss you off, that’s just a bonus”

“Jerk” Natasha says, but her tone lacks any malice.

It’s nice to talk to someone. You’ve never told anyone all of this. There’s a certain peace, knowing someone can understand your life hasn’t always been easy.

Eddie calls a minute later, ruining your mood.

“Where are they?” he barks and you don’t need to put him on speaker for Natasha to hear.

“Who?”

“Who, who? What are you? A fucking owl? The fucking Avengers, Flash! We haven’t posted anything about them in almost a week”

“They might be on a mission, you know that, Eddie”

“I only keep you around because you give me good content. Get off your fucking ass and find me something, hot stuff”

“Lovely” you say as he hangs up and Natasha stands up, kicking the chair. “What?”

“I’m gonna kill him”

“Hey, wow, slow down. He’s all talk and definitely not worth it”

“I’d still like to kill him”

“If it makes you feel better, you kind of destroyed his penthouse in the battle of New York”

Natasha ponders for a second, clearly unsatisfied.

“Let me make a call. I think I can get him off your back”

“Are you calling to have him killed?” you say nervously, but she walks away with a mischievous glint in her green eyes.

The girl’s got some serious power, because an hour later you meet with the Winter Soldier and snap some “candid” pictures of him working out.

It’s a bit scary and he looks bored most of the time but when you tell him that’s enough and he can go, he actually smiles.

“Oh, tell Romanoff that if she’s done playing house, we might have a lead”

“I will” you blush as he gives you a once over and walks away.

Eddie is giddy like a schoolgirl the minute you step into his office.

“What do you think it’s a good headline?”

“How about Winter just got hot - Barnes shows off his muscles in outdoor workout”

“You’re a genius!”

His moodswing practically gives you whiplash. This morning he was ready to kick your ass to the curb. But, since Natasha gave you enough to keep him off your back, you leave the office early and stop by the grocery store.

“I’m home” you announce.

That’s weird. You’ve never lived with anyone, so you never speak when you get to your apartment.

But there she is. Smiling.

“Uh… hi. I thought we could have some pasta tonight” you busy yourself with the things you need, keeping those weird thoughts away.

“Did Barnes behave?” she asks in a tone that makes it very clear the Winter Soldier will get his ass kicked if Natasha doesn’t like the answer.

“He was really nice. Insisted I call him Bucky and all”

“Well, he’s single, in case you’re interested”

Natasha seems actually… disappointed with the idea? You gotta eat something fast, because at this point you’re delusional.

“Cheer up” you get close to her, your fingers tilting her head up. “You’re about to have the best meal of your life”

“Am I?” she holds your stare and all you can do is nod. The redhead is nice enough to offer to help, but you honestly don’t know how to cook with someone all over your kitchen, so she goes back to spying on the criminals.

“Food’s ready!”

“Smells good”

“Told ya” you pour two glasses of wine and mentally pat yourself in the back, because the pasta tastes delicious.

“Where did you learn to cook like that?”

“Before I was a professional stalker, I worked at a family restaurant. The Nonna taught me how to cook. Why? Want some lessons?”

“I can hold my own”

“I’ll have to find out sometime, won’t I?” you snort as you remember Bucky’s words. “Oh, by the way, Barnes said you’re playing house and that they have a lead”

“He’s an ass and I already spoke to Steve. Seems like a group with biochemical weapons” she says it so casually while you almost choke on your fork full of pasta.

There are criminals with biohazard material across from your place.

“I really gotta move out” you mumble, annoyed. Stupid gentrification and crime.

“What’s with all the dog pictures?” she interrupts the silence after a beat.

“What’s with snooping around in my files?” you snark back and she actually looks embarrassed.

“Maybe you should password protect them”

“Would that have stopped you?”

“No”

You both laugh at that. After taking a sip of wine, you answer her. Why not? If she wants to know, you’ll tell her. Setting your fork down, you look at Natasha and speak.

“I’d love to be a pet photographer. Like, professional, holy crap, that dog is the cutest shit you’ve ever seen kind of thing”

“Ok. What’s with the stare?”

“Waiting for you to laugh at me”

“I won’t. It’s kind of cute”

“Thanks”

Thanks? What are you, twelve?

“I would have liked to be a ballet teacher” Natasha blurts out and you beam. Yeah, you could totally see it, especially with how graceful and beautiful she is.

“So, if you saw all those dog pics you also saw that picture, right?”

It’s probably the best picture you’ve ever taken and it happened by complete accident. During an afternoon walk, you spotted Natasha. Her hair was down, except for a small braid to the side. She was wearing a yellow cardigan and black pants.

As she approached the cafe, a little girl pointed excitedly at her. Next thing you knew, the redhead kneeled to speak to the child, who was wearing a Black Widow shirt. That’s why she was so happy, she was meeting her hero.

“Why didn’t you publish it?”

“I’d like the world to see it. See how important you are to little girls that want to save the world. But not from some tabloid that posts clickbait. You know?”

Natasha stares at you, but doesn’t speak, and neither do you. There’s something she’s trying to understand, and she’s the only one that can get there. So you let her be.

Until her phone rings and she excuses herself.

Barnes is right, you’re playing house with an Avenger and it’s ridiculous. Once Natasha leaves and goes back to hating you, the fall is gonna hurt like a motherfucker.

“I’ll be right back” Natasha walks out in a rush, going for the door.

“Wow, hey, where are you going?”

“Stark disabled their cameras and they’re distracting them. I have a couple of minutes to break in”

“I’m coming with you”

“Absolutely not” she halts and you almost crash against her.

“You’re not going alone, Natasha” you sprint past her, going down the steps at full speed.

“How are you so fast?” she says, going after you.

“I have to chase super soldiers for a living, remember?”

“Here” Natasha pushes you to the side, picking the lock and opening the door to the warehouse. “I’ll look around. Take some pictures and make sure no one’s coming”

You nod, pulling out your phone. There are vials with some red liquid and a lot of guns. Your hand trembles as you browse through some folders and manage to photograph the files. There’s one with Natasha’s name on it, so you scan through the words, trying to remember as much as you can.

“We gotta go” the redhead drags you away, going through a side door.

“Wait, Nat, we have to go back. There’s a file with your name on it”

“It’s ok, they’ll be here any minute”

You cross the street and as you’re reaching the entrance of your building, the black SUV pulls up.

“Shit” Natasha hisses, holding on tighter to your hand. It’s clear you won’t make it inside without being spotted.

“Do you trust me?” you ask, pulling Natasha back to you. She doesn’t have time to answer, as you press your lips against hers. You make sure her back is to the street, so the men only see your face.

They linger for a minute or two, so Natasha’s mouth stays on yours and at some time, one of you deepens the kiss. Your hands rake through her hair and she sighs against your lips.

“I…” you stutter when she pulls apart, certain that you’re about to pass out.

“Come on, let’s get inside”

To your surprise, Iron Man and Captain America are waiting in your kitchen.

“Do you people ever knock?” you feel irritated at the intrusion, secretly hoping it would be just you and Natasha, to talk about whatever the hell that was.

Unless there’s nothing to talk about.

“Here” Natasha hands Stark one of the vials. “I think I know what it is. Chemical subjugation”

“But mass produced” Steve completes.

“We think they were following us to see who would be more vulnerable” Tony completes. “They’ll probably want to control us to hurt people”

“Turn the public against you” it finally clicks, and you look at Natasha. She reaches for your hand, a comforting touch. “Are they going after you?”

“Maybe. It is something out of the Red Room, after all” you shudder, looking down. “Hey, it’s fine. I’ll be fine”

“We have an idea. But we’ll need your help” Steve looks at you.

“Like hell” Natasha stands in front of you.

“Let him speak at least” you nudge her and she sighs. Tony and Steve share an amused look before going to you.

“We have enough to go seize the place, but we’d like to set up a little trap in case one of them escapes. Romanoff is the bait” Tony explains.

“Bait? Seriously? And you’re ok with this?” you turn to Natasha and she shrugs her shoulders.

“That’s the job. If we don’t stop them now, they’ll hurt a lot of people”

“So, what am I supposed to do?” you cross your arms, anxious.

“Natasha will be out on the street, nothing too big because we don’t want people getting hurt. You can be there and be her eyes; if you see someone suspicious, she’ll take care of it”

“Ok” you say.

“You don’t have to” Natasha steps forward.

“Yes, I do” you squeeze her hand and smile.

“Well, unless you want to gaze into each other’s eyes all night, we have some planning to do” Stark interrupts.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” Natasha hangs by the door a second later and you nod.

As she leaves your apartment, you’re scared about how lonely it feels without her.

“You’re being too obvious” a raspy voice says to your ear. It’s like she’s standing right next to you.

“I’m not” you grumble, fidgeting with the comm stuck to your ear.

“It’s ok. It will be over soon” Natasha promises through the ear piece.

And then what? You’ll go back to chasing her on the streets, saying dumb shit just to piss her off?

God, that’s so depressing.

“I’m on my way to the door” Natasha’s warning snaps you back to the present, so you walk to the entrance of the building and act as if it’s just another day following an Avenger.

“Hey, Romanoff!” you shout, but this time she turns around, smiling at you.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

Double fuck, you’re in love with her.

“Did you do anything fun these past few days? The public missed you” you say, snapping a couple of pictures. More people join, calling for her and she looks around, trying to figure out if they pose a threat.

“They’re all good” you say in a low voice, confirming you recognise them. Natasha nods almost imperceptibly and keeps walking.

“Take some pictures, Y/N” she reminds you, so you lift the camera and look through the viewfinder. Just as she’s about to reach the crosswalk, you see the black SUV driving down the road.

“Shit. Everyone down, come on, walk away!” you warn the crowd, only a handful of them reacting in time. Natasha is focused on pushing them off the street, her back to the criminals racing to get her.

“Natasha!” you run to her, pushing her to the side as a man opens the passenger door, a gun in hand.

The only thing you remember is pushing her, then a blast and screams.

“Shit, Steve, Sam! I need back up here” Natasha requests, kneeling next to you. As you turn around, you find a pool of blood, coming out of your stomach.

“Well, that’s gonna leave a stain”

“Shit” Natasha drags you to the alley. Sam Wilson flies and lands in front of you, shielding you with his suit. “You idiot, why did you do that?”

“Come on Tasha, it’s not like anybody is going to miss me. You save the world every day” you land on your back, vaguely aware that you’re dying.

“Your sister…”

“Ana has like fifty kids. She’ll be fine” you laugh, but then start coughing, feeling the taste of blood in your mouth. “Shit, that can’t be good, huh?”

“Shh, try to stay calm, help is coming” she pleads, one of her hands applying pressure to your wound and the other caressing your cheek.

“It’s ok, I’m not scared. You’re right here with me”

“I’m not leaving. And hey, don’t tell anyone, but I think I’d really miss you too” she tries to smile and you chuckle.

“Liar”

Your eyes are closing.

“You can be annoying and all, but I really think I would. So please, please stay with me?” her voice is breaking. You don’t want to make Natasha sad.

She deserves to be happy.

“I always thought your eyes were so beautiful. I’m really glad they’re the last thing…”

“No, no, please, stay awake”

But you can’t do as she asks.

If this is heaven, then the whole idea is a rip off. As you open your eyes, there’s an IV stuck to your arm, a blinding light and a pressure on your side.

“Hey, Romanoff” you say as your eyes adjust to the light. The woman is asleep next to your bed, her hand resting on yours.

“You’re up” she smiles and you nod.

“I’m awake. I wouldn’t say I’m up just yet” you try to take a deep breath but it hurts. “Ouch. How long was I out?”

“20 hours, give or take. You’re on a lot of painkillers right now”

“Got anything stronger? Like death?” you mumble.

“Don’t joke with that” she asks, helping you up.

“Are you ok, though?” your thumb runs across her temple, where she’s sporting a little bruise.

“Just scared that you’d die on me” she leans against your touch.

“Yeah, but if you think about it, no paparazzi would ever follow you again. They’d be too scared to go next”

“I don’t want us to go back to that”

“Good thing I’m quitting, then” you smile and her eyes widen.

“Really?”

“I thought about it before, but this is all the proof I need that I want to do something I actually like”

“I support that one hundred percent” Natasha leans her forehead against yours.

“You’re gonna miss me, Romanoff?”

“Not one bit” she doesn’t give you time to feel hurt, as she leans forward and captures your lips in a tender kiss. “Because I plan on taking you out and being around for a long time. If you’ll have me”

“Yes, I’ll have all of you, Nat” you smile against her lips.

“Hey, Romanoff”

Natasha knows that voice. It’s from the person she loves most.

The redhead turns around, and sees you carrying two cones of ice cream. You hand over one and she kisses your cheek.

“Picture time” you announce, pulling out your phone to get a selfie. “Looking good”

You lean forward, capturing her lips in a kiss that tastes like chocolate.

Now she likes it when you take pictures of her, because they’re moments she wants to keep forever.

#Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff x you

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fangbangerghoul · 5 months

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Tear You Apart

This is a one-shot dedicated to @spookyspecterino for her birthday!

Minors DNI, 18+

TW: CNC, Facefucking, bondage, light forced voyeurism, it's very explicit and it's a pirate being a pirate so just be wary. This isn't your Sam Coe from Kansas anymore.

word count: 5, 139

You are now Starborn in search for the remnants of what you have left behind in your new current universe. You rush to be reunited with a new version of those you cared deeply but things go awry.

I am extremely excited to share this for my wonderful mutual @spookyspecterino who was one of the first writers on here to inspire me to start writing again in the first place! I wouldn't have 37k of Delgado fanfiction if it wasn't for your fic New You.

Thank you @thatsgoodsquishy0 for being my Editor in Chief and @bearlytolerant for giving it a go and providing the fantastic gameshot!

I hope this is well received and that you enjoy it Spooky! After all it is for you!

Not all of it will be posted here due to it's explicit nature. The rest will be on Ao3. If you would like to go straight there: Tear You Apart Ao3 comments and kudos are appreciated but never required!

Playlist to accompany it

Tear You Apart

Your eyes open slowly to the sound of a crackling fire. Your memory is foggy as you come back to consciousness trying to remember how you passed out in the first place. The last thing you remembered was coming to the Lodge after joining this universe. It was an emotional toll leaving your world behind but it was something you and the Constellation agreed upon before entering your ship one last time to make your journey to Unity. The first mission your heart was set on was to find your friends again, no matter the version of them you may meet.

You lift yourself and feel your hands tied behind your back. The tight rope was creating a hot friction that rubbed at your wrists creating mild discomfort. There was a deep sense of anxiety that creeped into the pit of your stomach, wondering who could have done this to you. Did The Hunter possibly beat you here? Was it an enemy you had not met yet? Or worse did a version of the someone you once knew have tied you down like this?

The sound of footsteps against the wood floors interrupted your thoughts and worries and you felt yourself hold your breath in anticipation of your captor. Whoever it was you knew you had the chance to use your wits and persuade them to let you go and to see reason, even if your reasoning sounded straight out of a sci-fi novel. The footsteps were heavier and closer, echoing within the room, as they circle behind you till the boots owner was within your view. Your eyes widen as you look at the man in front of you. He was so familiar yet so alien to the version you knew so dearly. His blonde hair was chopped down to just below his ears and it was shaggy around his face. His leather brown adventurer's hat had a lovely crimson ribbon tied around the base. His eyes were steely blue portraits of the arctic planets you once traveled together. There was even a scar on his left cheek that mimicked lightning that was nonexistent on the version that you knew and once loved.

“Sam” You breathed, giving yourself away accidentally. His appearance was shocking and what caught you by surprise the most was the crimson skull that anointed his baggy black sweater. He cocked his head to the left and a smile curled at his lips in curiosity.

“How do you know my name?” His ragged voice was rougher than you remembered and the tone of it sounded amused, like a cat that played with its prey. This version of Sam had a voice that was an octave deeper and it was raspier as if he smoked. You feel yourself shrink to his question unsure of how honestly you should answer him.

“Are you….part of the Fleet?” You asked him unsure of how to react. What could have made this Sam join the Fleet? Better yet, was he the one who tied you up? His blue eyes glance over to his shoulder where the Crimson Fleet skull patch was and back to you less amused than before.

“You didn’t answer my question but anyone could have guessed that, darlin.” Sam said lazily as if he was starting to get bored with this conversation. He moved closer to where you sat bound on the couch and with a swift move he had his pistol out, cocked it back and pressed it gently onto your forehead. “I suggest you start answering my questions if you plan to see tomorrow.”

“I knew another version of you.” You spat out quickly as your heart pounded from the cold touch of his gun. You were so confused and stricken with the sudden turn of events. The face before you was a near perfect replica of a man who used to hold you so tightly at the end of long days, who wouldn’t dare point his gun at you. You felt your chest become heavier with each second as the anxiety crawled up your throat.

“I don’t appreciate liars.” He growled as he pressed the gun harder to the center of your forehead threatening to pull the trigger. His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head down to demand your eye contact. You feared to look away, unsure what he would do.

“I’m not, I swear! There’s another version of you that I knew from the universe I came from.” You said quickly trying to defend yourself trying to use your eyes to plead him to trust you. If this man was anything like the Sam you knew perhaps, he could believe the unbelievable too. You wiggled your wrists around in panic because in this moment a part of you knew you needed to play along to make it out of this position. “We used the artifacts to go through Unity together.”

“What did you say? Artifacts?” He bent over to get closer to your face as his gun still was positioned to shoot at any moment.

“You must be another member of Constellation.” His eyes examined you top to bottom as he slowly removed his gun and put it back in its holster. He took a step back to stand straight and had one boot pointed directly at you as he fixed himself into a comfortable stance. Sam looked past you and made a nod. That was when you heard more footsteps and there were other men who circled around the couch and took their place on each of his sides. They were men you didn’t recognize but each had an unsavory look about them and hunger in their eyes for something yet to be seen.

“We thought we had already dealt with all the Constellation members but it seems they were hiding one. Maybe you are more willing to share some answers. They didn’t and unfortunately ended up in unsavory places around New Atlantis.” There was a dark chuckle that escaped his lips and something caught in your throat after he admitted to killing this universe’s versions of your friends. You wondered if this Sam was even a part of Constellation at all within this universe or if he killed his friends in cold blood. There was a chill that crawled down your spine and the pounding of your heart now echoed within your ears. You couldn’t tell if it was from the light of the fire or because of the men around him but you started to see more shadows upon his face and the menacing nature of this Sam was all too clear.

“Y-you didn’t?” Your words stammered out in disbelief and in horror and you felt tears fill little pools into your eyes ready to crash down your cheeks. It was unthinkable that this world existed. A world where Sam was a bloodthirsty pirate and someone who killed off members of Constellation one by one. He laughed at your horror filled reaction and that’s when he was directly in front of you again, resting his boot on the couch beside you, crouching down to be on your level. You couldn’t tell if he bent down to mock you or to make sure you could hear him.

“Oh honey, we sure did. They refused to give us what we wanted and well we live by a very strict motto. Fleet First. Not like we didn’t give them the chance.” His voice was laced with fake sympathy as he showed his sharp teeth in a wide grin. He thought he was hilarious and so did his men who laughed behind him. “Now tell us, where are those Artifacts?”

“I don’t know.” Your lips trembled and your breath escaped you. There was a part of you that regretted the fact that you could bring nothing with you to this universe and didn’t think to stop anywhere to arm yourself. It was obvious now, this Sam wasn’t your friend and the last thing he needed was access to Unity. He would most likely be just as horrible, if not worse as The Hunter.

Continue reading here

#starfield #sam coe #pirate sam coe #starfield fanfiction #starfield spoilers #coemancer #sam coe x reader #sam coe starfield

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electronickingdomfox · 5 months

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"The New Voyages 2" review

Another collection of short stories submitted by fans, similar to the first volume (which I reviewed here). This one was published in 1978, and was also edited by Marshak and Culbreath. More uneven than the first volume, but there are still some solid tales in here. It would have been better if Marshak and Culbreath had chosen other stories (ANY stories) to replace the ones written by themselves. But I guess that's the privilege of being the editors...

Some spoilers under the cut:

Surprise! (by Nichelle Nichols, Sondra Marshak and Myrna Culbreath). Nichelle is credited as one of the authors, though judging by the info in the introduction, as well as the unmistakable style, I'd guess that most of it was written by the dreaded couple, while Nichols just provided the general idea and the ending. It's Kirk's birthday, and Uhura, together with the rest of the crew, try hard to keep the party a surprise, while Kirk gets more and more annoyed in the process. The story drags too much, since the plot doesn't really have all that meat to begin with. And everyone behaves weirdly out-of-character, supposedly because it's a comedic story. I found the whole thing more silly than funny, to be honest.

Snake Pit! (by Connie Faddis) is much better. Chapel and Kirk are abducted by an alien tribe who has recently turned hostile, and ceased commerce with a nearby scientific station. The tribe has also started to kill people in sadistic rituals involving snakes. Kirk is tortured in truly Kirk-style, and put naked inside a pit full of snakes, that bite him. He'll die if he isn't given an antidote soon. Then Chapel offers the natives a bet: if she can rescue Kirk from the pit without being bitten once, they'll have to release both of them. If she fails, well... you get the idea. So Chapel jumps also naked into the pit, armed just with a knife, and battles the snakes in glorious cavewoman fashion. There's action and tension, and the opportunity to see Chapel's most badass side.

The Patient Parasites (by Russell Bates). This author wrote the TAS episode "How Sharper than a Serpent's Tooth", and this story is actually the script for another TAS episode, which got rejected. Thus, it's presented in TV script form, not as a narrative. Some crewmembers are captured by a strange machine, whose mission is to retrieve knowledge from any species out there, and bring it to its masters. Kirk and co. must find a way to weaken the machine's force field and rescue the crew, before their allotted time expires. It ends with Kirk making the machine self-destruct through the power of logic. Pretty "meh!" and generic argument. It's no surprise it was rejected as an episode, given the static scenery and lack of action.

In the Maze (by Jennifer Guttridge) turned out to be my favorite story. This is the same author of the also great "The Winged Dreamers", in the first collection. Kirk, Spock and McCoy are investigating a strange cube building, which doesn't fit that planet's culture, when Kirk disappears through a portal. Spock and McCoy follow him, but end up in a total different place of the maze. Kirk is being held in a cage by a disgusting alien, with whom he's unable to communicate, while Spock and McCoy must brave the maze and several dangers to rescue him. All part of an intelligence test by the alien. Spock and McCoy suffer a lot (specially McCoy) and embrace a lot. And they even have to fight a tentacle monster, similar to that one in the lake before Moria (from "Lord of the Rings"). It's dark, it bears a resemblance to "The Empath", and it would have made for a great episode of the series.

Cave-In (by Jane Peyton) is a strange "free texture" poem, so it's up to interpretation, and it's not entirely clear what's going on. The dialogue seems to happen between Spock and McCoy while they're trapped inside a cave, and McCoy is prodding the Vulcan about his mixed heritage. Not much to comment. I don't get this stuff.

Marginal Existence (also by Connie Faddis) has the crew investigating an eerie planet, where all the inhabitants have been placed in "sleeper chambers" and pumped up with drugs. Most of them have been dead for centuries, anyway. It all turns very sinister once automated robots, which respond to the sound of voices, start putting crewmembers inside the chambers, and piercing them with needles and tubes filled with drugs, which causes them great pain. As it's discovered later, this hedonistic society chose to live permanently under the effect of drugs, but it all backfired once the pleasure turned into pain. Poor McCoy also suffers a lot in this one, this time from too painful pleasure. Yeah. It's an interesting, a bit macabre story.

The Procrustean Petard (by Sondra Marshak and Myrna Culbreath). This one gave me actual brain damage. The awkward prose is mostly gone, at least, and replaced with supposedly witty banter (it isn't), and repetitions of the same bad pun that gives the story its title. It also takes a similar plot as "Turnabout Intruder", but turning the misogyny up to eleven. Let me explain. In the TOS episode, Lester can't be a starship captain because a law (described as "unfair") doesn't allow women to be captains. However, Lester doesn't become any better once she gets Kirk's body. She's just as deranged and tyrannical as before, no matter that she has now Kirk's muscles and hormones; that doesn't make her a better leader. And similarly, Kirk doesn't become a hysterical crybaby simply because he's now in a female body. In the end, what counts is the attitude, what is inside, and not the body in particular. This is completely subverted in this story. The Enterprise approaches a planet, which has the stupid quality of luring spaceships just to reverse the sex of everyone on-board, whether they want it or not (the point being what??). As soon as Kirk is turned into a female (not just any female; he's the same James Kirk, just with one chromosome changed), he becomes the most useless being in the universe. Nobody believes him capable of being a leader anymore, and the story proves this point time and time again. He faints in the bridge just because the ship is shaking a bit. He can't go alone anywhere. He distracts all men because he's too beautiful now. Starfleet wants to take away his command and give him a desk job. He can't even drive a shuttlecraft anymore because "oh! the controls are too big". This is a world where aliens of all shapes and sizes are accepted, but it seems that human females are still the most pathetic things in existence... Is Spock also turned into a woman? Hell no. The authors are Spock supremacists, so they spare him that indignity. Instead, the planet gives Spock an extra Y chromosome (because it does that to the strongest male on-board, of course) and this turns Spock into a super-macho, and an insufferable asshole. At once, he stops calling Kirk "Captain", since he's no longer worthy of the rank. Needless to say, everyone reverts back to their usual selves at the end, save Spock. Because super-macho Spock = good. There's also an appearance of the Klingon Kang (from "Day of the Dove"), which has lost his whole crew because they're all now useless women. No matter that in the series, Kang was married to a very capable female Science Officer... Sigh. The only one who remains more or less the same is McCoy, who doesn't see so much difference, save the purely biological, in being a woman. But I think I know what's the logic behind this. As McCoy is the most emotional of the triumvirate, the authors probably saw him as "less of a man" to begin with. Or, in their own rhetoric, as a "beta male".

The Sleeping God (by Jesco von Puttkamer). This author is an interesting case, since he's a NASA scientist, who later would help with technical details for TMP. (He's also, by his own admittance, one of the victims of Shatner's "habit of kissing men on the mouth"). This story is a bit longer than the others, and separated by chapters. A massive super-computer intelligence, called the Nagha, has conquered her own universe after millions of years, destroying every living being in her strive to become the only, supreme intelligence that exists. She's a malevolent counterpart to V'ger, even referenced as a "child" too. Which is curious since TMP wouldn't be released until 1979. Unless it's purely coincidental, it could be that Jesco knew something about the movie script beforehand, and took inspiration from it. Or it was Roddenberry who was inspired by this story instead. Anyway, the Nagha has found out how to invade the normal universe too, and is destroying planets. So Starfleet decides to wake up their ultimate weapon: a mutant with extraordinary mental powers, put in a sleeping chamber years ago. Of course, it's the Enterprise's task to carry the sleeping god and confront the Nagha. But it soon becomes apparent that the mental powers of the mutant are interfering with the crew. The plot isn't terribly original, but it's well-written and keeps the interest. A bit heavy on the technical details (as expected, given the author's background), but not to the point of being boring. McCoy keeps bitching about all the bullshit that's going on, which is fun.

After this come two short poems (Elegy for Charlie, by Antonia Vallario, and Soliloquy by Marguerite B. Thompson). I can't comment much on them, since poetry isn't my thing, sorry.

Spirk Meter: 9/10*. Not evenly distributed, but very much there.

Surprise! has Spock offering to tuck Kirk in bed, and after Kirk accepts, he becomes flustered. Spock also carries him in his arms for a minor injury (though there's a reason for it, since he's preventing him to enter the room with the surprise party). Both of them also share a chess room between their two bathrooms, and it's obvious they're going into there after taking a shower or such.

The Sleeping God has Kirk finding a naked Spock tied to a lab table, immediately running to him, and then being stripped himself and put on another table next to him. Spock keeps calling him "Jim" all the time, even when discussing mission details. Before the whole complex self-destructs, Kirk's last thoughts are for Spock to be safe.

And Soliloquy, a first-person poem about Spock, ends with the bold words: "I love you, Captain, written on my heart". Maybe I should give this book a higher score based in this line alone, but the poem is such a little thing in the scope of the book, that I don't know...

Spones also deserves an honorary mention. Cave-In has Spock and McCoy trapped in a cave and McCoy is really hot ("Hotter than you know"). Presumably because of the stuffy air inside the cave, but this is during an intense banter between both and... well, you get the idea. In the Maze has lots of love between the two, as they're both badly injured and keep comforting and healing each other. So yeah, it's like one of those episodes.

And Kirk is a bit touchy-feely with McCoy in The Patient Parasites.

*A 10 in this scale is the most obvious spirk moments in TOS. Think of the back massage, "You make me believe in miracles", or "Amok Time" for example.

#star trek tos #star trek #spirk #k/s #novel review #star trek novels #spones

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