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xdacted · 9 months

Text

i think you were drunk (you spelled wedding wrong)

Paring: Reader x Carlos Sainz Jr.

Warnings: Hurt/no comfort, Fluff, Childhood love

Word Count: 5,807

Status: Complete

Inspired by: "Why'd you invite me to your wedding?" - Kevin Atwater

____________________

Carlos hadn’t seen the message until the next morning.

A message from a number he thought forgot about him. For a moment, he wondered if it could be true. If it was real.

“Hey! I’m sorry this is so out of the blue, I know it’s been a while. I hope you’re doing good, I watch your races so just know I’m always rooting for you. I miss being at the races with you, it was always so fun. I’m sorry it’s been so long. But I wanted to invite you to my weddign, which will be next month. I’ve sent an invitation to your family, I hope that’s alright. I wanted to invite you myself because I could not imagine that day without you. Let me know if you can make it, I know how busy you are. Love you.”

Then, right under it, is a smaller bubble that reads:

“Text me back if you can. I miss you.”

Carlos thinks he might be sick. He rereads the message, pulling his phone closer to his face. He can’t stop himself from whispering her name. It’s been years. This girl, his girl. His entire life, she’s been there, since he was little. They were fast friends, but, of course, to Carlos, it was more than that.

To him, it was everything.

__________

“Someone has a crush on Carlito!”

Her brothers were running around them, stomping across the grass. She groaned at them, they had moved twice - each time prompted by them coming around to pick at their sister. Carlos liked to giggle at it, he and Blanca weren’t as rambunctious.

Carlos knew that they liked to pick on her, but would always stop the moment she began to cry. She was their baby sister after all.

“Shut up! I do not!”

Her face was a violent red, the blush spreading up to her ears. She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, and puffing her cheeks. Her brothers come to pull at her hair, pinching at her sides. She whines for them to leave her alone and Carlos can only giggle.

He thinks about what they’ve said. A crush? On him? The thought alone makes his face go hot. That kind of thing, with moms and dads and kissing. He hadn’t given it much thought.

Would it be so bad? Carlos didn’t think so. He thought that if he did have to marry anyone, he’d like it to be her. She liked racing and played golf with him.

“Maybe Carlito has a crush on you!”

“Stop!”

Carlos looked down at his lap. Did he? He pulls at the skin of his fingertips, his head full of thoughts. He shakes his head, trying to laugh it away, “No way!” He says.

It’s easier like that.

When he looks over at her, she’s staring straight at him, a smile on her face.

“We’re best friends!” She declares, glaring over at her brothers, “Right?”

“Right!” Friends. If she wanted to be friends, Carlos thought that was perfect. “Best friends.”

Because even friends could marry each other, right?

__________

He spent the morning staring at his phone.

Carlos thought that perhaps it would go away, fade into nothingness, but it was still there, a blue bubble glaring right at him. He had spent hours rereading it, so much so that he was sure he could recite it from memory.

‘I miss you.’

He squeezed his eyes shut. The memories of her were something that he kept away. Secret treasures that he held so close to his heart. Even after all these years, at just the simplest phrase, Carlos could feel his heart begin to pound.

It was only her.

It would only ever be her.

Evidently, he recalls bitterly, he wasn’t it for her. Carlos has to stop himself from throwing the phone. Even in the darkness of his mind, he can see those words. He can hear her voice, reading them aloud. It makes him sick.

He knew that they would meet again - he prayed for it - but never like this. It wasn’t fair. Almost cruel, he thinks, that he would be subject to loving her for the rest of his life. But, how beautiful it is to love her.

He thinks of her smile. The smallest quirk of her lips, something so shy and tiny. It was only full with him, or at least, it was. His mind wanders to who she might be now. There’s a part of him that knows he could find out, the quickest search of her name would tell him everything.

But there’s a reason he hasn’t, he was afraid of seeing her happy without him.

He couldn’t.

Carlos sighed.

His chest was heavy with emotion. There was a sea of them - anger, sadness, happiness, longing. He might just explode. Fall apart on his couch and just a mess of a man.

They were so young then. Just kids. Carlos thinks of the irony, they used to sit and laugh at the thought of people getting married so young. Thinking that you could devote yourself to someone you hardly knew, he remembers how they thought it was so stupid.

It isn’t as funny anymore.

__________

When Carlos got the call from Red Bull he cried.

His father had been pacing the room with him, talking about his chances and pondering on the season. But as soon as that phone rang, he was right at Carlos’ side, already pulling him into a hug as soon as he confirmed a date for contract negotiations.

It was his time.

His start was here and now.

When he managed to calm himself down, he called her.

She picked up and screeched in his ear when he broke the news.

“OH MY GOD! CARLOS! YOU DID IT!”

He started to cry all over again, “...I know…”

“I’m coming over,” She said hurriedly, he could hear her bustling around the room.

“Wait! You don’t have to -” She’d already hung up on him.

He was waiting outside for her, fidgeting with the dirt around the steps of his house. The excitement was buzzing in his veins, he could still hardly believe it. She rode up only a few moments later, dropped her bike onto the lawn, and ran up to him. He caught her in a hug.

Carlos couldn’t help the few tears that escaped him. His dream was finally happening. He would finally get the chance to be known as more than just the son of Carlos Sainz, he was going to make a name for himself.

He couldn’t wait.

When she pulled away, she was quick to seize his shoulders, “You did it!”

He could only smile, there was so much joy, he was bursting with it.

“I’m so proud of you, Carlos,” She said, smiling up at him.

He felt his face go red. She would never understand how much those words would mean. Everyone could hate him, everyone could be against him, but so long as she wasn’t, he could do anything. Since the very beginning, she had always been his biggest supporter. Every race she could go to, she was at. It got harder as he climbed the ranks, races were farther and farther. But it always seemed like she just knew.

When he would come back she would insist on a very detailed account, getting angry with him when he left anything out. She claimed it made her feel like she was there. Carlos always just rolled his eyes, but he could never deny how much he loved it. To know that she wanted him to do well.

It made every victory sweeter and every loss harder.

Above all, he hated losing in front of her. To know that she was watching, to know that she could see him fail. He hated it. But she always said that even champions have bad seasons, it wasn’t untrue, but Carlos hated it nonetheless.

They had moved to the steps of his house. Sitting beside one another, their knees touching, she bumped him with her shoulder.

“So, you’re going to remember me when you’re rich and famous?”

He rolled his eyes, “I don’t know. I’ll probably be super busy being too cool.”

“You are not cool.”

“Whatever,” He shrugged, “Don’t come crying to me when I’m champion.”

“As if,” She shoved him, he caught himself on the step and turned to her.

He began to laugh before hooking his arm around her neck, “Of course, I’ll remember you.”

‘I love you.’

“You’re my best friend.”

She looks up at him. Carlos thinks that there’s something that passes across her face, but then, it’s gone. She smiles a true smile. Wide and beautiful.

“Good.”

_________

His mother calls him on the way to a meeting.

As much as he wishes he could just let the phone ring, he knows he can’t.

As soon as he answers, she’s gushing in his ear, “Carlito, I can’t believe she’s getting married! How wonderful! She will be the most beautiful bride! The invitation is just gorgeous.”

He lets her speak, leaning back in his seat. It hurts to know that his mother is so excited. He always thought that she wanted him to marry her, that’s what she always said when he was a kid. Maybe everyone let it go but him.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, Mama,” He lies. It’s awful, lying to her. He can’t try to explain his feelings now, there’s still a part of him that wishes they’d go away. Hoping to drown himself in whatever work Ferrari will give him. The pain burns and he just wants to breathe again.

“We should send her something,” She adds, he can hear her moving around the house. He wonders if she has the invitation in his hand.

He hums, trying to keep the anger from his voice. This wasn’t her problem and he wasn’t going to make it hers. She doesn’t need to know - even if she did, what would she do?

His mother seems to think for a moment, humming a mindless tune before saying, “You should send her something!”

Carlos nearly chokes.

“What?”

“Yes!” Her voice is so bright, “You two were so close, why not send her something? A ‘congratulations’ of sorts. Yes, that would be nice.”

“Mama…” He begins, unsure of how to tell her, “I - I don’t know -”

“Carlos,” She warns.

With a sigh, he just hums again, “I’ll look into it.”

“Good,” He can hear the excitement ramp up in her voice again, “Isn’t this just so beautiful?”

Carlos can’t respond.

It isn’t. It makes him sick. The very thought of it makes him want to cry and scream. Anger burns within him, stomach twisting. He hates this. He hates it because he loves her. He loves her more than anything.

“It is.”

__________

It was quiet, the summer sun dancing on their skin. A breeze pulling through the air, tall grass blades dancing. The smell of the garden roses drifting around them.

Carlos’ heart was pounding, thudding against his ribs, nearly jumping into his throat. He tried to swallow the anxiety that nearly lept from him, but the nerves in his stomach made it impossible. He felt like he was choking. Just sitting beside her, so close, but so far.

He could feel the heat of her hand, he yearned to touch her, to intertwine their fingers. It wouldn’t be wrong, they held hands a lot back then, but he wasn’t sure he could do it, afraid his heart would’ve exploded.

“What is it?” She looked over at him, her eyes trying to pry the information out of him.

He tore his face away, fists clenching at his side. He was always so afraid to tell her. Just a boy terribly in love with a girl, but he could never bring himself to say it. When he tried the words would abandon him and he would just end up brushing it off.

But there, in the silence of the garden, he knew there was no hiding it. Not when she was boring a hole into the side of his head. She stared right through him. He took his lip between his teeth, horrified at the thought of it all slipping out.

She would hate him. If he ever dared to say something like that she would kill him, he was so sure. It’s funny to look at it now, but he just focused on the blades of grass beside him. The green was bright and strong, small weeds blooming within the folds of dirt. He reached over to pluck at a dancing flower, but his hand was caught.

She grabbed him, fingers around his wrist. Her hold was hardly there, he could break free from it if he wanted. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay there with her.

He was sure that she could feel his racing heart, but she said nothing. Just bringing her hand up to rest in his palm. His stomach flipped, and he shut his eyes.

This wasn’t like him. Carlos had never been a coward, but for her - and only her - he was reduced to nothing. He loved her, his feelings brimming inside him.

Any more and he was sure that he would come apart at the seams.

“Carlos,” Her voice whispered.

He cracked his eyes open, and she was there, leaning over to peer down at him. Her hair fell from her shoulders, so close that he could smell her shampoo. It was the same one she’d used since they were 6 - one her mother made. The scent was her and her alone.

Carlos swallowed.

She lowered herself closer. Carlos was sure his heart was so loud that she could hear it, surely she could. She smiled down at him, cocking her head to the side.

“What are you thinking?”

He just shook his head, afraid to trust his voice.

“Then?”

“‘Then’ what?”

“Why won’t you look at me?” A pout made its way on her face, jutting her lower lip out dramatically.

He chuckled, trying to rein in his heart. But it was so difficult, her beautiful eyes looking down at him, the lines of her lips and nose and cheeks. He had memorized it all. He would know her no matter what, from the way she laughed, to the way she spoke, to the way she just breathed.

Carlos loved her so much it hurt.

‘I can’t,’ He didn’t say, ‘I love you too much.’

She didn’t say anything. Just smiling down at him. Carlos thought that just for a moment if even for a moment, something shifted in her eyes. A foreign look floats in them, dancing in the color and making them shine.

It was odd.

He wanted to know what that was, the smallest change. Silence pulled over them.

The sun shined through the parts in her hair, falling onto his skin, a gentle stroke of warmth. The breeze carried the scent of the roses, and the grass below them swayed. Around them, the world seemed to slow. It was like the only person he could see was her.

The only person that she could see was him.

Lost somewhere in time, just two hearts dancing away in the summer. Nothing else would matter, just them, just at this moment.

Carlos lost himself.

He leaned up, closing the space between them, and kissed her.

The softest thing, a barely there press of their lips.

He hadn’t even realized he’d done it, pulling himself away as soon as he did.

Neither of them said a thing. Just staring at the other with wide eyes. A pink blush dusted her cheeks, and that look in her eyes changed again. She drew in a sharp breath, and Carlos was sure he’d ruined everything.

It was destroyed because of him.

But he couldn’t even mutter out an apology. There was nothing to say, nothing to do. She moved away, rolling back to sit on the grass. Carlos felt like crying, bringing a forearm to cover his face.

What an idiot.

He felt the regret sit against his chest, so heavy he could hardly breathe. Why did he have to lose control of himself? They were supposed to be friends, but all he was doing was making it complicated. He was in love with her, she loved him - it was supposed to be enough.

Carlos let out a deep sigh. He could hear the grass shifting beside him, he spared a look over and she was still there. She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, tucking her chin on them, arms wrapped around her legs.

When he opened his mouth to speak, she beat him to it, “I - I guess…I mean, I guess it would be lame if you went to Red Bull without having your first kiss, huh?

He shot up, “That’s - that’s not what this was! I - I’m sorry!”

She turned to face him, her face still bright red, but with a shy smile, “It’s ok.”

He hadn’t realized that he reached for her hand, and she squeezed, “I didn’t mind. If I’m going to have my first kiss, at least it’s you.”

Carlos could only stare at her, mouth hanging open.

This wasn’t what he thought.

“Are you sure?”

She leaned against her knees, “Yeah. Isn’t that what friends are for?”

The word struck him deeper than it had any right to. But he couldn’t help the relief that flooded through him, “Yeah…yeah…of course.”

“It would be lame if I was the only F4 driver without a kiss.”

“Super lame.”

“Hey!”

She burst into laughter. Her laugh filled the garden and he was soon to join, throwing his head back. This was easy. Being like this with her was easy.

“That means you would’ve been lame too.”

“Not as lame as you.”

“I’m super cool.”

“No, Carlos, you’re not.”

They never spoke of it again.

__________

Carlos nearly has a heart attack when his phone buzzes in his pocket. But, upon further inspection, it’s only Blanca.

‘I talked to Mom,’ Her text says, ‘She told me what happened.’

He just stares at it. Pocketing his phone, he’ll answer it later. Too many texts have been sent to him today. Carlos contemplates running over his phone. Maybe that’ll shut everyone up.

His pocket buzzes again. And again. And again.

With a groan he pulls it back out, scrolling through the messages.

‘Answer me.’

‘CARLOS.’

‘Ok,’ Is all he sends back, ready to tuck it away once more, but there’s another text that pops up.

‘Are you ok?’

For a moment, Carlos thinks about telling her. Though he never said a word about his feelings Blanca had this way of knowing. She called it a ‘sister thing’. Carlos just thought she was nosey.

‘Yes,’ he sends, following it with, ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

The text bubbles appear and disappear, it’s not very fair. He knows. But there’s too much happening and he can’t - he just can’t. Tomorrow he will apologize, but today, he just needs a break.

In one of her ‘sister thing’ moments, she only ends up sending.

‘OK, I’m here if you need anything. I love you.’

Carlos can feel the lump in his throat and struggles to swallow it.

‘I love you too.’

__________

She called him sobbing.

It was nearly midnight, Carlos had just gotten back from a race. He’d fallen onto his bed, sighing into the night air, when the rang. He thought about letting it go, the rings growing louder in the silence of his room.

Against himself, he reached over and answered.

As soon as he did, he could hear her heaving breaths, the sound of her hiccuping cries. He shot up and pulled the phone closer.

“What happened? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

There was no answer, just another broken sob. The slick sound of her sniffling, wet breath.

“Please,” He whispered, already standing, “Please tell me what’s wrong. Carino, please.”

“W-Will you come o-over?” She managed.

He did. Shoved his feet into his shoes, pulled a shirt over his head, and stormed right out the door. It never crossed his mind to take a car - he just ran. Pushing his way through the gate and rounding the corner into the street. He could hardly see a thing, the moon clouded and fuzzy.

But he ran to her.

He was there faster than ever, crawling over the small fence to get to her backyard. The garden stood tall, and the roses nicked his ankle. But all he could think about was the light coming from the upstairs bedroom, a shadowy figure pacing across the curtains.

He had half a mind to scream for her, but she peered through the curtains and he could see the relief spread across her face. The sight of her made his stomach drop, he nearly tripped over himself to climb the ledge. It was a path he’d taken countless times, jumping to grip the railing and hoisting himself up. As a kid, he used to need her help, but they weren’t kids anymore.

And Carlos is sure he would’ve found a way. Nothing could’ve stopped him from reaching her.

Dropping himself onto the wooden floor, he breathed her name, but she was already pushing herself into his arms. He felt her trembling against him, wet facing pressed into his shirt. He couldn’t have cared less. Wrapping his arms around her, he brought her closer. Claros dropped his head to whisper into her ear.

“I’m here…shh…I’m right here.”

Where her arms were locked around him, she fisted at his shirt, the fabric bunched between her fingers. Her grip was so tight he worried it might rip, but how could he ever worry about that? She pulled away from him, just enough to look him in the eye. Her face was blotchy, cheeks wet with tears, eyes red-rimmed.

But Carlos still thought she was beautiful.

The heartbreak on her face made something crack within him.

“W- What’s wrong? Please, tell-”

“My dad,” She gasped, sucking in a large fit of air, “It - it’s my dad…he’s dying, Carlos…”

The world seemed to go still. Her words hadn’t seemed real, and Carlos half expected her brothers to jump from the dark hallway and laugh. It wasn’t possible. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen to them. Things like this - losing people, losing friends, and family - happened to everyone else.

But not them.

It seemed that the world had finally come caving in on their little bubble. It was shattering around him and all Carlos wanted to do was stop it. Carlos felt so cold, that he hadn’t even realized that he began to cry too. Silent tears rolled down his face before he could stop them.

The pain was unbearable.

But they held each other. There, on her porch, they stood crying. Falling apart and having the other to lean on. Carlos clung to her, afraid that the world would try to take her too. That it would get greedy.

‘I’m sorry,’ He wanted to say, but he couldn’t. The words lost to him, stuck in his throat.

He prayed that she would know. That she would know his feelings, the way he needed her. The way he loved her.

“Stay,” She whispered to him, her words almost swallowed by her cries, “Please.”

‘I need you.’ Went unsaid, but Carlos heard it anyway.

“Always.”

‘I love you.’

__________

“Everything alright, mate?” Charles’ voice pulled him back to himself

Carlos shakes his head, blinking a few times, eyes stinging, “Yeah..fine. Sorry.”

He looks up, Silvia glaring down at him. The P.R. briefing was never anything he truly listened to, but perhaps his disinterest had gotten far too obvious.

“As I was saying,” She rolled her eyes, flipping the papers in her hand.

Her words fell past him again, something about interviews and language. He could feel Charles’ eyes still on him. He was far too kind for his own good, sometimes that meant trying to understand things that he had no business knowing.

The meeting rolled on, and when they were dismissed, Carlos tried to slip away, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey!” Charles hooked his arm around Carlos, “Everything alright?”

“Of course,” He tried to sell it with a smile.

Charles didn’t believe him, green eyes boring into his own. When Carlos looked away, Charles was quick to bid those around them goodbye and steer them to an empty conference room.

Damn, empath.

“What is it?” Charles said, shutting the door behind him.

Secrets had never been Carlos’ strong suit. He threw himself onto a chair, bringing his hands up to his face. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about the message and was unsure how to start. He was lost in the sea of his emotions, torn between his sadness and anger.

He felt like an idiot.

“Carlos?”

Charles sits across from him, concern written across his face. Carlos takes a deep breath, he steadies himself on his knees, resting his elbows on his legs.

“There was this girl - we were friends when we were little,” Charles nods along, letting Carlos speak, “And earlier today, she texted me to tell me that she was getting married.”

“OK?”

Carlos looks over at Charles. He’s unsure of the face that he makes, but it seems to be enough for him to understand. His face falls and he puts his hands over his heart.

“Mate, I - I’m so sorry.”

Carlos waves him away. This isn’t his fault, and yet, it’s just like Charles to act as if it is, “I will be fine.”

Charles is silent for a while, looking down at his hands. He’s fiddling with the rings on his fingers, eyes darting around the room. Carlos has known him for far too long, he could practically see the cogs turning.

“What?”

Charles doesn’t answer right away, but when he does, there’s a look in his eye, “Do you still love her?”

Carlos takes a deep breath. There is only one answer, there has only ever been one answer.

“Yes.”

__________

Her father died 4 months later.

And she was gone two months later.

Her mother couldn't take the pain of being alone in the house her husband built, so she left. All things packed, the house empty, they were gone.

Carlos couldn’t even say bye. His negotiations with Red Bull ran longer than they were supposed to, when he threatened to walk out his father nearly smacked him.

“This is the opportunity of a lifetime!”

“She’s my best friend - I love her!”

“There will be other girls, she is not the only -”

“Yes,” He nearly screeched, “She is! She is the only one!”

His father just stared at him, sharp eyes squinting. He would never understand and Carlos didn’t have the strength to make him. He called her instead.

She picked up on the second ring. Neither one of them said a thing, but Carlos could feel her disappointment. It was his own.

Eventually, he can bring himself to utter her name, trying to find the apology, but she beats him to it.

“I’m going to miss you,” She says.

Carlos nearly cries. They’ve been apart, his racing often keeping them away from one another for months on end, but she has always been at him, waiting for him.

“I wish you could stay.”

He was being selfish - he knows - but the fear of her leaving, going far away. Carlos thought he was dying. His chest was tight, breathing shallow. His mind was racing, trying to think of something to make her stay - anything.

“I do too,” He could hear the faintest hint of a smile in her voice, “But I can’t.”

“I could…” He began.

But there was nothing. There was nothing that he could’ve done. The decision was one that was far beyond both of them. Spain held so much sadness for her, and it would be wrong for Carlos to ever want to have kept her there. It wouldn’t have been right.

Silence ballooned between them once more. They were just there, breathing with one another. There was so much Carlos wanted to say, so much he needed to say. His love felt like it was bursting from his chest, trying to force its way out. Carlos choked it back.

This wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the right moment to -

“I love you, Carlos.”

The words hit him and he nearly collapsed. He could imagine her face, hand curled tight around her phone, beautiful face red. His heart was pounding, blood rushing.

All these years, all this time. He loved her in silence, but to know that she loved him. It made him feel like he was floating.

“I -”

“Carlos!”

His father was standing right before him, eyebrows drawn tight together, “They are waiting!”

“I’m going, I just have to-”

“You should go, Carlos,” He heard, her voice thin. She was crying, he knew she was, “They’re waiting for you.”

“NO!” He demanded. This wasn’t how he’d say goodbye, he wanted to tell her.

“Please, I just need to say something.”

Again, his father just stared at him. But there was something different, his eyes were softer. Carlos thought if even for a moment, he saw understanding. With a click of his tongue, his father turned away, “Five minutes.”

He breathed a sigh of relief.

He took a deep breath, “I - I need you to know-”

“I already do know,” There was a slight laugh to her words, just the smallest thing. Before Carlos could say anything else, she kept going, “Go show them who you are, Carlos.”

“But I need to tell you that I -”

“I love you too,” Was all he heard before the dial tone.

She was gone. Just like that.

__________

Though Charles offers to take him out to treat his sorrows, Carlos declines. He watches as Charles’ smile falters, but he still pats Carlos on the shoulder.

“Of course,” He says, turning to fish his keys from his pocket, “But if you change your mind, let me know. Okay?”

Carlos nods. He waves Charles away. When he’s alone in his hotel room, he collapses onto his bed. He slips his phone from his pocket. It opens and he’s face-to-face with her message.

Carlos wanted to be angry.

After years, this was the first thing she said.

He could say something, call her. It wouldn’t be right, he can’t be the reason that she breaks someone’s heart. He can't be the reason that someone else has to live without her. What a terrible existence that is.

It just makes no sense, to think that after all these years, she invites him to her wedding. Carlos always thought that once they made their way back to each other, they would marry. In all his dreams, she was his wife. To love her forever would make the distance worth it.

She told him that day. She said that she loved him, Carlos couldn’t help but think that maybe she was just being nice, just telling him what he wanted to hear on the most important day of his life. Thinking that maybe he had taken it wrong.

“Love you.”

But she would never love him the way he loved her. Completely. From the first day he met her, bumping heads in class, to the day he lost her. He has always loved her. He can see her still, smiling and bright - like the stars. He can feel the summer breeze, the smell of their childhood. He can see the rosebuds right before they bloom, waiting with her as the rain comes and they get sick. He remembers going to all her Flamenco performances - acting like he really cared about dances and not just seeing her face light up when she saw him.

There is no part of his life that he can look back on and not see her. She is everywhere. And Carlos knows that she always will be.

‘Text me back if you can.’

He couldn't bring himself to say no but knew he’d die if he had to see her marry someone else. It would break her heart, he’s sure of it. He can almost picture the disappointment on her face. Carlos wishes he could be stronger, to just put on a brave front, but he can’t. He’s only human.

He’s just a man hopelessly in love with a woman he can’t have.

What a pitiful thing to be.

Carlos looks down at his phone.

The words are searing. If he saw her, what would he even say? Would he be able to hold himself back? Keep himself from spilling his feelings?

The answer is simple.

He won’t.

There is something small inside of Carlos’ mind that feels giddy, she still thinks of him. He was still important to her, she wanted him. She cared about him. She missed him. Maybe she still loved him. Maybe he could -

He shakes the thoughts from his head. No. That was a lifetime ago, those feelings were alive when they were 16. Not now.

There’s only one question he thinks back to.

Why?

After all these years of silence, why now? Why this?

They were kids back then, but Carlos likes to think that even what they felt then wasn’t nothing. That’s the very problem. Nothing was the same. They weren’t the same, the world around them wasn’t the same - even if Carlos so desperately wished it was.

The screen begins to fade, but he taps it. It lights up once more, illuminating in the darkness of the hotel room.

She’s getting married and she wants him to come.

She’s happy and in love. She’s moved on. Carlos thinks of her smile again. A crushing sense of finality passes over him. He hopes that whoever it is makes her smile, and makes her laugh. He hopes that they hold her when she cries, and catch her when she falls.

He hopes that one day he’ll be able to look back on her without so much pain.

Why?

That question refuses to die, still floating around in his mind even as he tries to shake it away.

He’ll never know why, but maybe it’s better that way. To keep her as who she is in his memory, to keep them as they were. Young and beautiful. That’s all.

Her message will sit unanswered. He can’t. He won’t.

Carlos whispers an apology, he hopes that it might reach her. That she’ll catch the drift of his words in the wind, maybe even forgive him. He lets himself think of her, wondering what she’ll wear, what her hair will look like.

Beautiful.

He’s sure.

He just won’t be there to see it.

____________________

A/N:This work has been cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to request fics about any of the drivers <3

Check out the song, it's not available yet, but it's up on TikTok

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #female reader #formula 1 #one shot #x reader #charles leclerc #ferrari #carlos sainz #ferrri and i actually have beef and that's why i've spelled thier name wrong #i hate them but love charles and carlos #carlos sainz jr #light angst #fluff #kid fic #no comfort #this hurt to write but i did it anyway #love you bye

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nicolettecallednikki · 2 months

Text

Something silly I wrote last year and found in my drafts. It's incomplete and kind of pointless, but as I relate to the version of events I have in my head, I felt somewhat compelled.

Monaco Grand Prix, June 28th

He had gotten beyond wasted in Monaco last year when they'd fought about something, something stupid, and the videos of him obliterated had only made her more mad. Charles and Charlotte had fought too, and the girls had gone off together, had a sleepover and didn't answer their phones. This year, Isa couldn't make it, but he'd fucked up again and was spotted out with a Brazilian model, a friend of Kika's. That was the end of it, for Isa.

The Monaco curse was real, he surmised grimly.

Blanca's Wedding, July 9th

It took him a minute to place the familiar melody, but he recognized it from that movie Isa and his sister liked so much, the Audrey Hepburn one.

"Lando," he smacked his friend who sat next to him, "Lando do me a favor."

"Get your own drink," the younger man pulled a face, but Carlos shook his head.

"Go ask her to dance," he said, "She likes this song, it'll make her happy."

"Ask who to dance?" Lando questioned, before following Carlos' glance, "Oh."

"It's Breakfast at Tiffany's," he said, remembering the title of the movie.

"You go ask her," he nudged his shoulder, "I'm sure she'd rather dance with you, mate."

"I don't think so," he shrugged, but across the room Isa was chewing on her lip and he was standing before he could stop himself.

"Would you like to?" he extended a hand to her, and she accepted it with a small smile.

"What will your date think?" she questioned.

"Lando?" Carlos cocked an eyebrow playfully. Like this, he could talk to her, "He'll be okay."

"You didn't bring anyone?" she asked, but he shook his head sharply, "It wouldn't have been right, after I asked you to be here."

She snuck a glance at him. God he was gorgeous, but that had never been their problem.

"I'm glad you came," he said softly.

"I came for Blanca," she replied resolutely. Her other friends had thought she was crazy, but she really did come for her, and not for him.

"Thank you for being so graceful with the media," he slurred his words slightly, "I know I don’t deserve it."

She'd entered through a side entrance at both the church and the reception, so that no one would spot her coming in and distract from the bride.

"It's not for the public to know," she gave another small smile, "I didn't date you for that reason, and I won't use it against you, now."

"I'm glad you came tonight," he said. He'd said it a number of times to her already that evening.

"I'm happy to be here," she emphasized, "For Blanca."

Isa was a strong girl, but there was only so much she could take. She'd thought she was going to marry this man, and now that they're broken up she's putting an end to that dream, but his constant closeness to her, his hand ghosting over her arm as if he can't help himself, the way he leans in a little too close when he wants to speak. She'd planned on avoiding him all night. Not to make a scene or anything- just to steer clear of him. It should've been easy, she knew other people here, but it was like a magnet kept pulling them together and she wasn't sure how much longer she could resist the pull.

"I thought it was going to be us next," he slurred his words. Caco tried to drag him away from her, but drunk or not, he stood his ground.

"Me too," she replied honestly, "but life doesn't always work out the way you expect it."

"I'm sorry about Monaco," he said, avoiding the actual root of the issue, "It'll never happen again, you have to believe me."

"Carlos," she said it almost like a reprimand, chastising, before sighing, "Think of your sisters. If someone did that to Ana or Blanca, would you want them to still marry him?"

She knew she'd gotten him then. Although he was a little more than a year younger than Blanca, he was very protective over both his sisters, and would never allow them to be with someone that disrespected them as he had.

His face fell as he realized her point. He'd truly planned on marrying her, and it hadn't occurred to him that there'd be a scenario where they didn't end up together. Sometimes on the road, traveling all the time, at these sorts of parties- things happen. Everyone involved in F1 knows, things happen, but it didn't mean he didn't- doesn't still- love her.

Singapore Grand Prix, September 17th

Caco tapped his cousin, a phone clutched against his chest, "It's Isa."

"Why'd she call you?" he furrowed his brow.

"She wasn't sure if you wanted to talk to her," he replied with a shrug. Carlos' jaw ticked and he took the phone, moving away from the group for some privacy.

"Isabel?" he said, "Everything good?"

"I just wanted to say congratulations," her voice was lower than usual, which is saying something for his normally soft spoken ex, "That was genius strategy, with the DRS."

"You're just happy it got Lando P2," he teased. She'd always gotten along well with his former teammate, more so than Charles, even.

"That, too," he imagined she cracked a smile, "Well, that's all I wanted to say. I'm sure you have to get back to the celebration. Drink water- it's hot there."

Trust Isa to be looking after him, even now.

"I will," he promised, "And thank you- for calling. It means a lot."

"Of course," she said. There was a pause and he could tell she had more to say, so he prompted her, "What is it?"

"They're calling her your lucky charm," her voice cracked and he felt a clutch in his chest. He hated that he was still making her cry.

"Isa," he sighed, "They say all kinds of things."

"Do you believe it?" she questioned.

"I thought you said we make our own luck," he countered. She had said that- every time he'd called her his lucky charm, in the past.

"Well, you have been great since summer break," she insisted.

"Isa," he sighed again, "How did I win?"

"Qualifying well, driving smart, and giving Lando DRS," she summarized.

"There," he made an agreeable sort of grunt, "So if anyone is the lucky charm, it is Lando, okay?"

He always knew what to say- a Smooth Operator indeed, "Fair enough. Anyway, I didn't call for all this- you should be celebrating."

"Have a drink for me, huh?" he asked.

"I doubt you'll need my help," she laughed, "Congratulations again, and to Lando, too. You finally did it. P1-P2, like you always said."

"I'll tell him you say hello," he assured her.

"Do that," she smiled, "Bye Carlos."

"Good bye," he returned, waiting for her to hang up first, in case she had anything to add. He felt he had to treat her especially carefully now with this whole Rebecca business, because he didn't want to hurt her after she'd been such a good sport about everything.

When he got back to the group Rebecca pulled his arm over her shoulder, leaning into his chest. A minute ago that would've been fine, but now he was conscious of every phone, and therefore camera, that was pointed his way. When Lando called him over, he was glad for the excuse to step away.

Austin Grand Prix, October 22nd

The rumors were admittedly silly, but they were gaining traction. Even other drivers on the grid were joking with him and Esteban, asking which one of them were the baby daddy. Half out of courtesy, half because he was glad to have an excuse to talk to her again, Carlos called Isa.

He made sure to call at a time he thought she'd be by her phone, but not with her friends, Lord knows what those women thought about him, and he was hurt when the call went straight to voicemail.

Does she think it is true? he thought to himself, What other reason would she have to ignore my call?

He was relieved when a few minutes later she called him back, and when he picked up he heard music in the background, so he assumed she'd walked away from a group, knowing as he did that this conversation was best kept private.

"I hear congratulations are in order," she said icily, and he gnawed his lip, disappointed.

"Isa," he struggled to keep his voice even, "Isa, you know it isn't true. I wouldn't- I could never do that to you."

"I should know you couldn't?" she repeated, her tone unchanged, "Really, Carlos, that's your argument?"

His heart clenched, "Okay, then this- would I abandon a child? Even if it meant losing you?"

She was quiet and he knew she knew he had a point there. He wasn't a bad man, he'd made one- albeit gigantic- mistake, but overall she knew his heart was in the right place.

"I didn't think it was true," she said honestly, because she hadn't, not really, but it hurt to hear the rumors again. She had thought by stepping away from him she'd be out of that particular spotlight, but it seemed that wasn't the case.

"Are you sure?" he smiled despite the situation, and she confirmed, "Your father would have your head if it were true. No, forget your father- your mother."

"You're right about that," he chuckled, "You should've heard the phone call I got when this all started."

"I believe it," she wasn't so cold now, "Thank you for calling, anyway, I appreciate it."

"Of course," he said, "I owe you at least that."

"You don't owe me anything," she told him, and she meant it, too, "You've been a wonderful ex boyfriend, Carlos."

"Better than I was a boyfriend?" he asked and was met with a sharp intake of breath. He regretted the question immediately.

After a moment of careful consideration, she spoke quietly, "You were a great boyfriend, and I hope, one day, to call you a great friend. For now, I have to go, though. Thank you again for calling."

"I'm sorry, Isa," he said, "That was stu-"

The phone clicked.

Las Vegas Grand Prix, November 19th

After the disastrous race, Caco pulled him aside for some more good news- to let him know that Rebecca was pissed.

"What happened?" he asked. As far as he'd known she and Alex were enjoying themselves. His mother and sisters weren't as taken with the Scot as they'd been with Isa, but Charles' new girlfriend was forming an alliance with the older girl. Even that, though, was compared to the friendship Isa had had with Cha.

"She was standing next to me when Lando crashed in lap four," his cousin explained, "And she saw Isa texted me."

"Why would Isa text you?" his head shot up.

"Relax, Primo," he said, "She was asking about Lando, that's all."

"She was watching?" he questioned, and Caco shrugged, "She watches a lot of races, I'm sure."

"Oh, you're sure?" Carlos' eyebrows raised, "Why, does she text you a lot?"

"Only when it looks like there's a bad crash," Caco answered honestly, and he saw a flash of something in his cousin's eye that was not good.

"Did she text you after my crash?" he asked, and Caco frowned. Carlos had always been a bit of a sore loser, yes, but not a sore winner. He had Rebecca, why should he ask about Isa?

"To be fair," Caco pursed his lips slightly, "I don't think she watches Free Practice. And you were fine right away, anyway."

Carlos' nostrils flared, but he didn't respond. After a moment, he took a breath and said, "I'd better go find Rebecca."

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #isa hernaez #Isabel Hernaez #Carlos x isa #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #carlos sainz x isa hernaez #carlos sainz jr x isa hernaez

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videogamedogbracket · 1 year

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Final bracket reveal!

Hello, everyone! After some deliberation (and a very stressful shift at work) I've compiled the final list of participants for this bracket! This post is both a bracket reveal and a confirmation that I have the right characters/images. Be sure to let me know if there are any that need correcting!

Aesop/The Flame in the Flood, Ai/Puyo Puyo Tetris, Alice/The Last of Us 2, Amaterasu/Okami, Annoying Dog/Undertale, Arven's Mabosstiff/Pokémon Scarlet/Violet, Barbas/Skyrim, Barista/Rhythm Heaven, Barkley/Cassette Beasts, Barkspawn/Dragon Age: Origins

Blanca/Shadow Hearts: Covenant, Boney/Mother 3, Boomer/Far Cry 5, Brown/Rule of Rose, Caesar/Wargroove, Cain/Red Dead Redemption 2, Cerberus/Hades, Chibiterasu/Okamiden, Chop/Grand Theft Auto 5, Colonel Ruff/Brawl Stars

DD/Metal Gear Solid V, Digby/Animal Crossing, Dogamy and Dogaressa/Undertale, Dogmeat/Fallout, Dr. Potan/THE DOG Island, Dribble/WarioWare, Duck Hunt Dog/Duck Hunt, Elena/Spiritfarer, Flash/Jetpack Joyride, Flippy Doggenbottom/Toontown Online

Fondue/Rhythm Thief, Gab/Zero Time Dilemma, Garm/Guild Wars 2, Giblets/Elder Scrolls Online, Gretchen/Scarlet Hollow, Hewie/Haunting Ground, Holly/Super Lesbian Animal RPG, Hot Dog/Skylanders, Interceptor/Final Fantasy VI, Isabelle/Animal Crossing

Jackal/Hyper Light Drifter, Jake/Dog's Life, K.K. Slider/Animal Crossing, Koroku/Suikoden III, Koromaru/Persona 3, Lesser Dog/Undertale, Lord Arcanine/Pokémon Legends Arceus, Mame/Yakuza, Mira/Silent Hill, Missile/Ace Attorney

Missile/Ghost Trick, Monty/Spelunky 2, Moonless/Fear & Hunger, Noishe/Tales of Symphonia, PaRappa/PaRappa The Rapper, Pepita/Trauma Center: New Blood, Pickle/Papa's Pancakeria, Pizza/Chicory: A Colorful Tale, Polterpup/Luigi's Mansion, Pom/Pom Gets Wi-Fi

Poochy/Yoshi, Ppodae/Lobotomy Corporation, Princess Pooch/Fossil Fighters: Champions, Pryna/Final Fantasy XV, Randy/Wobbledogs, Rei/Guilty Gear, Ren/DRAMAtical Murder, Repede/Tales of Vesperia, Rex/Fallout: New Vegas, Rex/Fossil Fighters

Riley/Call of Duty, Rukey Greentail/Pyre, Rush/Megaman, Rusty Slugger/Rusty's Real Deal Baseball, Sam/Sam and Max, Sant Angelo di Roma/Final Fantasy VIII, Satty/Breath of the Wild, Sergeant O'Fera/Cuphead, Sif/Dark Souls, Sommie/Fire Emblem: Engage

Spot/Nintendogs, Sumo/Detroit: Become Human, Taroumaru/Genshin Impact, Toby/The Great Ace Attorney, Umbra/Final Fantasy XV, White Beast/Guardian Tales, Wick/Identity V, Willie/Deadly Premonition, Woby/Don't Starve Together, Wolf/Minecraft, Wolf Link/Zelda Twilight Princess, Wulfgar/Etrian Odyssey 2

Again, I can't thank everyone enough for their submissions. Sorry to everyone whose submissions didn't make it in, and rest assured that narrowing the list of participants down was hard.

The bracket itself is going to be posted tomorrow, as well as the first group of matchups. I'll be splitting the first few rounds into multiple groups, just so the sheer volume of contestants isn't so daunting!

And, of course, I wish the best of luck to each of these amazingly good boys and girls. See you all tomorrow!

#video game dog bracket #tumblr bracket #update

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justplainwhump · 6 months

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Mac

A short character intro of some sort, for the character that has lurked in the background of Adrian and Blanca's story since their very first chapter. The sixth guard dog.

[Pet Safety Masterlist]; this piece is referencing [Favor].

Content / warnings: BBU, (indirect) dehumanisation, captivity, briefly referenced/implied noncon.

In the nights in his cell - or kennel, rather, he didn't know why but there was a difference and it made his stomach uneasy - Mac had a lot of time for thoughts. And he used it. He thought about fights, about technique and strategies, about his opponents and their strengths and weaknesses. He thought about winning, about the feeling of triumph, and how stale it was. Like the tasteless, grayish mass that came from a dispenser in the kennel wall, a viscous nutri-shake, that fell into a stainless steel bowl welded to the floor. Victories in his fights were just the same. Bland, insipid, and utterly necessary to survive.

Mac pulled down the lever and watched more of the nutri-shake fall into the bowl. Sometimes he thought about how long he'd have to hold it down until the room would be flooded. Sometimes he wondered, if the person he'd been before would've known how to calculate it. The pet he was now sure did not. He stared down at the food below him, let himself sink to his knees before he bowed down to eat it. He'd never been further from being a person.

He'd been allowed to eat at a table, real food, with taste and consistency, back at his owner's place. He'd had the others to talk to, Guards, like him. They hadn't been what people called *friends*, he wagered, at least he hadn't actually liked them, but they had existed together, shared a life and the dedication a common goal - to keep their master safe and satisfied. They hadn't been friends, but in lack of better terms, they'd been a pack.

Here, everyone like him was an adversary, who'd fight him to the death the next day or another. And those not like him were the ones who didn't care about if the others died, or Mac did.

It was exhausting. A feeling that wasn't going to bring him anywhere. That was why when Mac had time for thoughts, he didn't think too much about his pack.

He thought about his owner.

—

Jack Donnell took great pride in his belongings, and that had always included his WRU-trained Guards. Six of them, all of the same height, featuring the same dark hair, same broad shoulders, same mannerisms. He employed a retired WRU Guard handler for some hours a week to make sure the Guards worked like one. He also bought the consulting services of a WRU Romantic Trainer - not for the Guards to be involved directly, but to make them part of intricate designed "scenes" that Mac learned to hate.

Jack wanted to be a ruler, a conqueror, and every once in a while he loved to dress his Pets up in accurate costumes, only to make them submit to him in every scenario possible.

Mac had endured. He'd been a good pet. Until the day a new business partner of Jack's had shown up with his Romantic.

Blanca.

Blanca was petite, with the sort of auburn hair that could look dark brown in one moment and light up like fire in another, with a seductive sway to her hips, full lips that curved into a knowing smile and clothes so tight they left nothing about her curves to the imagination.

Hot, Mac knew he was supposed to think.

He didn't.

Please spare her from this, he'd thought instead and closed his eyes. Prayed, almost. As if he knew, how to.

As if there was a God who'd listen to a pet. No. Their only Gods were their owners.

And while her owner had all but fled the room and left his subject in the hand of another, Mac had stayed by the door, standing at attention, while he watched his master brutalize her.

It took hours.

And after Jack was done, he'd simply smiled to himself, sauntered towards Mac without another look at the broken figure of the Romantic behind him, and patted Mac's cheek. "Good boy," he'd said, and left.

That moment had been the first in Mac's conscious life, that he'd felt something a Pet was never supposed to feel.

He'd felt hatred. Plain, pure, seething hatred, for the one man he was supposed to love.

He'd felt it every day since.

tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @gottawhump @flowersarefreetherapy @whumplr-reader @highwaywhump @tauntedoctopuses @pigeonwhumps @whumppsychology @labgrowndemon @whumpinggrounds @somewhumpyguy @whumpzone @tragedyinblue @theelvishcowgirl

#pet safety series #bbu #jack donnell #the sixth guard dog #mac the guard dog #blanca #whump #noncon implied #dehumanisation

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esuemmanuel · 7 months

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No seré famoso, jamás lo seré, y no he querido ni he buscado serlo, ése tipo de ambición no me define. De hecho, un sueño que tuve desde pequeño fue publicar un libro y, bueno, ya lo cumplí. Me siento agradecido conmigo mismo por haber trabajado en ello y dejárselo al mundo. Igual a nadie le importa esto que estoy diciendo aquí, pero es algo que, de repente, me dieron ganas de expresar. Escribir ha sido un sueño para mí, una labor mágica y exquisita llena de hermosas satisfacciones y uno que otro dolor de cabeza y corazón, pues no siempre es fácil hacerlo (la hoja blanca es exigente y muy voluble). Sin embargo, y a pesar de algunas lamentables experiencias en las que no voy a ahondar, he amado tanto escribir que me ha dolido el alma en su más íntima raíz. He estado a nada de dejarlo cuando me he dejado abrumar por la voz de la ambición que no tengo, pero que veo en los demás escritores. Todos (o la gran mayoría) hacen lo imposible por lograr estar en un pedestal, trabajan por el éxito y por los números que anhelan que les lluevan en la cartera. Todo eso me causa un extraño malestar y me orilla a cuestionarme la verdadera razón que lleva a un ser humano a tomar la pluma y escribir… ¿Qué nos hace escribir? ¿Qué nos motiva? ¿Qué nos mueve? ¿La fama, la fortuna, el éxito o el simple amor al arte? Y si bien sé que la vida cuesta, que nada es gratis y que, si deseamos algo, debemos pagar por ello, también sé que el arte debe hacerse con el alma no buscando alardear o presumir por ser “bueno” o “letrado” o “intelectual”, y es que es tan fácil perderse en este camino que se puede caer en los extremos. En fin, estoy divagando… A veces es bueno divagar así. Me doy cuenta de lo que quiero y lo que no quiero… y no quiero ser un escritor que se llena de números y de una fama por demás ilusoria. Quiero mantener mi alma enfocada en la belleza y en la riqueza del arte, el cual es esperanzador por sí mismo.

I will never be famous, and I have never wanted or sought to be famous, that kind of ambition does not define me. In fact, a dream I had since I was a child was to publish a book and, well, I've fulfilled it. I feel grateful to myself for having worked on it and let the world know about it. Maybe nobody cares about what I'm saying here, but it's something that I suddenly felt like expressing. Writing has been a dream for me, a magical and exquisite work full of beautiful satisfactions and one or two headaches and heartaches, because it is not always easy to do it (the white page is demanding and very fickle). However, and in spite of some unfortunate experiences that I will not delve into, I have loved writing so much that it has hurt my soul in its most intimate roots. I have come close to quitting when I have let myself be overwhelmed by the voice of ambition that I do not have, but that I see in other writers. They all (or the vast majority) go to great lengths to be on a pedestal, they work for success and for the numbers they yearn to have raining down on their wallets. All this causes me a strange discomfort and makes me question the real reason that leads a human being to pick up the pen and write... What makes us write? What motivates us? What moves us? Fame, fortune, success or the simple love of art? And while I know that life costs, that nothing is free and that, if we want something, we must pay for it, I also know that art must be done with the soul, not seeking to boast or brag about being "good" or "literate" or "intellectual", and it is so easy to get lost on this path that one can fall into extremes. Anyway, I'm rambling... Sometimes it's good to ramble like this. I realize what I want and what I don't want... and I don't want to be a writer who is filled with numbers and an otherwise illusory fame. I want to keep my soul focused on the beauty and richness of art, which is hopeful in and of itself.

#esu emmanuel #acerca del autor #escritores en tumblr #divagues #el hombre de la soledad #escribiendo en soledad #the man of solitude #writing in solitude #writers on tumblr #pensamientos #2023

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linhmiu201 · 10 months

Note

I think the moth you posted is a type of hawk moth! Which is part of the inspiration behind Oberon’s 2nd ascension cloak ! So you may have had a visit from both bugs 🐛

Oh yeah, I thought the moth looked preeeety familiar too when I looked at her, er, I mean, it! I immediately named it "Blanca" haha (*/▽＼*) I wanted to take more pictures but seemed like my cough enthusiasm scared it. Tbh my hands were trembling when I reached for my phone to take that picture.

Since I got him in JP 2 years ago too, my friend said that I'm favored by Oberon. (￣▽￣*)ゞ

Btw thanks for sending an ask! ☆ ～('▽^人) I don't use SNS apps much so sorry for the later reply! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ Feel free to reach out to me anytime!

#an ask?!#I got an ask!#fgo oberon #oberon vortigern #blanca #real life blanca

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chuuyamysunflower · 11 months

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Asheiji fanfic recs pt. 3

Pt. 1 and 2 , 4

you keep me without chains by ADreamingSongbird(10k)

They say time heals all wounds. If that's what it takes, Ash is just about ready to throw himself into a fucking hourglass.

I Met My Soulmate at Starbucks by scarletvisionforever(4k)

“Why the hell do you want a drink like this?” Ash asked before he could stop himself. Blanca would’ve slapped him upside the head for being so rude. However, Ash believed that given the circumstances, the question was completely called for. Because who the hell wanted this much crap in their drink?

or an au where ash works at starbucks and eiji is an innocent customer who comes in and orders the most ridiculous drink ever

won't even wish for snow by ADreamingSongbird(2k)

It's the stupidest hat Ash has ever seen. Who would even buy something that tacky? It's ugly and ridiculous and so, so dumb. What a waste of money.

...but Eiji would love it.

God dammit.

the half life of what we become by StarSailorDen(14k)

Ash just wanted Eiji Okumura’s attention.

He couldn’t justify it, couldn’t unravel the logic of why he always craved the older boy’s dark eyes on him. Ash had spent most of his life being the centre of the show; the disgusting old men in Golzine’s club, the patchwork of gang members who followed his every move like he was a messiah. Even simple passerby seemed to watch him like they were cataloging something glamorous, something other worldly.

He always hated the attention he drew, and yet—he would do anything for Eiji to look at him, to focus on him, to stay with him just a little bit longer.

[Ash's need and Eiji's unconditional love, in four snapshots.]

cinnamon and spice by kybelles(6k)

Helping Yut-Lung and Sing as they organize the 15th year anniversary party of Max Glenreed and Jessica Randy could be fun for Eiji.

If only he didn't sleep with the famous couple's adopted son Ash a week ago.

Hours later, as they’re lazily cuddling on the bed after a shared hot shower, Ash speaks against Eiji’s heart. “I have a confession to make.”

Eiji’s fingers still on Ash’s hair for a moment and Ash curses himself. Without a doubt, hearing something like this from the person you’ve just slept with must be a little concerning. But Eiji just continues petting his hair. “Yes?”

“…I wasn’t planning on having dinner at the hotel restaurant tonight,” Ash says apologetically. “But you caught my eyes just as I was leaving and I… I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to talk to you.”

a tall tale get it? haha wait eiji don't leave- by equinoctial(2k)

“We don't say the H-word in this household.”

“Heck? Hell? Hfuc-”

“No that's not it,” Ash spared a quick glance to his husband innocently cooking up some noodles, huffing and puffing as he tiptoed to get the spices from the top cupboard, even though the stepping stool was right there--

cool cool cool cool no doubt no doubt by equinoctial(2k)

Oh. Oh. That did it. Ash had absolutely zero tolerance for insults involving his beloved husband. Let it be known that he was highly allergic to Eiji-related bullshit.

Surprisingly, the next scathing comment wasn't from Ash.

He blinked owlishly at the girl in the oversized jacket as she engaged in verbal combat-- with the old grumpy neighbour two times her height no less. It was like a little round baby penguin squawking at a ruffled flamingo. Needless to say, Ash was really impressed with the newcomer.

mom said its my turn to use the brain cell by equinoctial(1k)

"For someone who had the same smarts as Einstein and the reflexes of a professional hitman, Ash Lynx could be a real dumbass."

– Eiji Callenreese-Okumura, driving his husband to the hospital at speeds that made Grand Theft Auto look like church

love, ristretto and other midnight miracles by immaturesoybean(27k)

Precocious college sophomore Aslan 'just Ash' Callenreese has a problem, several, actually. His best friend won't stop shoving his newly invented pastries down Ash's throat, his partner for the dumb journalism project is an insufferable jock, and he is seriously finding it hard to prove to his adoptive parents that he does, in fact, want to live.

Meanwhile, athletic failure but infectious optimist Eiji Okumura is starting over, he's snagged a great part-time job as a barista, he finally has time to focus on his course and life is looking up! At least, it should. He just has to get through this year and everything will click into place. It should. It has to.

Or: A quaint café, a ridiculous coincidence, and a whole lot of coffee.

sanguine prospects by ihavenomorals(1k)

“I look…” Ash frowns. “Odd.”

There’s a small strand of hair that’s fallen from behind Ash’s ear, like spun gold in the sunlight. Eiji reaches out, slowly - but not hesitating, not any more - and tucks it back into place. His knuckle brushes Ash’s temple, a quiet hollow of worship.

“You look beautiful.” Eiji sits back. “You always do.” Ethereal would also be an apt word.

Ash smirks. “Eiji, are you flirting with me?”

“I would hope you know that.” Eiji steals back his camera. “Considering how long we’ve been together.”

“Is that what this is?” Ash looks aghast. “And here I thought we were only very good friends-”

1986 by bathandbodyworks(15k)

It’s 1986.

It’s hot, vaguely humid, and New York seems less full of life than ever, especially as Dino continues to control Ash’s every move.

But there’s a new boy, staying at the same hotel as him, with a funny accent and wide, brown eyes, and Ash is starting to think he might be a little cute.

or,

in which Ash think it’s too hot, Eiji thinks Americans are weird, and two boys fall in love.

who needs stars? we've got a roof by selfetish(17k)

Ash closes his eyes. Years of waiting culminate in weightless dust, soon to be swept away by the living. This earthen smell will fade. It will be overtaken by home-cooked meals and citron peels. Silence will forsake to Sunday radio static and the slow turnings of a page. Behind curtains, it’ll be the push and pull of their noses as they love each other sore, cutting into the pristine sheet of white starlight.

Slowly, they’ll imprint this house until it has become theirs. Ash waits for that day.

Or, the steps to remedy a fragile soul.

come be lonely with me by StarSailorDen(10k)

“Oh,” a soft voice to his right startled. Ash drew in a sharp breath as he turned to catch the silhouette of a man at the end of the aisle, backlit by the window and washed in the same radiant auburn of the setting sun that cast the stacks so warmly. “Sorry.”

|| Ash Lynx meets Eiji Okumura on the fifth floor of the university library on a Saturday evening. It's a disaster. ||

miso soup for the soul by selfetish(7k)

Ash Lynx was the sort of cool that oozed Schlitz and lemon-lime seltzers. Was the sort of rad that left Tootsie wrappers and denim under the soles of his Converse wherever he stepped. He was as smart as an apple in the way that he was both street and pillow fluent, and that he didn’t need to rely on his trigger fingers to rip and tear. Was cruel, calculating. Always on target. Always one shot, one kill. He was Ashie on the weekends, Aslan Jade behind closed doors. He was as bitter as sumatra beans, sweet as molasses once you got to know him physically, emotionally, spiritually.

To many, Ash Lynx was a conniving bastard. Tortured genius. Stone cold fox.

To Eiji, boyish.

Stories from Apartment 705 on 59th Street.

August by suffragettecity(2k)

“I love it when you look at me like that.”

The sun warms Ash’s back. “Like what?”

Eiji cards through his hair, knuckle deep in fields of blonde. “Like that,” he whispers, tucking the bangs behind his ears. “Like you are seventeen again.”

Ash and Eiji talk about marriage.

[Part of a series]

Darlings by suffragettecity(56k)

Crunching leaves, cashmere sweaters, rich mens' sons and uniform ties. The autumn the valedictorian fell in love with the athletic scholar, and poetry was carved out of circumstance.

[Read the tags before reading the fics<3]

#banana fish fanfiction #banana fish fanfic rec #banana fish fandom #banana fish #banana fish fic #ash lynx #eiji okumura #asheiji fanfic #asheiji #they are happyyyy #and in love #fic rec

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