#Charles will always drive like a beast

[scrumptiousartisanheart]

It's only the first race, it's only the first race! it's ONLY the first race! IT'S ONLY THE FIRST RACE...

(shattering sounds and screams)

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Two

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Chapter One Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

The Beast. An awful nickname, one nobody deserved. Admittedly, Charles knew little about her. He knew little about the current Formula Two drivers in general, but knew nothing about The Beast. Still, he doubted the nickname was fitting.

He couldn't help but look into her. Max pressed kisses along his shoulder as Max did his all important research.

"I don't like it," Max mumbled as he kissed across Charles's shoulder. "Sounds dangerous."

Charles waved him off and continued to read, learning what he could about you. A good racer, that was clear. Vicious, adrenaline driven. Like Max, Charles couldn't help but think. But then he scrolled down.

'The Beast attacks fellow F2 Driver, 'Ollie Bearman'.

You had attacked Ollie. Why had you attacked Ollie? Charles clicked on the video and let it play.

It began, just after they'd gotten the muzzle back over your mouth. Ollie was on the floor, hand bleeding hand protectively in front of his face. His blood dripped through your muzzle, dripped from your mouth. You looked positives feral as you stared down at him. A terrifying sight.

But you couldn't be that feral, right? They wouldn't keep you in Motorsport if you were that dangerous.

Max grabbed his chin, forcing Charles to look away from his phone screen. "Charlie, promise me you won't go trying to adopt this one like you did Oscar and Ollie," he said, blue eyes staring into Charles's.

Cupping his cheek, Charles leaned forward and kissed Max's nose. "I can't promise anything, Max," he said and settled down against them.

Max released a sigh. He laid down next to Charles and wrapped his arms around him, unwilling to let him go. "Charles, please," he said, suddenly sounding so serious. "Promise me you won't go near her."

He didn't reply. Max laid awake, aware that Charles was awake, too. Awake, but not talking to him. "Charles," he tried again. But Charles moved further away from him.

***

The lock slid into place and you were left in the dark hotel room, food in front of you. "Tomorrow is a big day," your handler (manager, she preferred to be called. But she really was your handler) called through the door.

You knew that, knew how big the next day was going to be. A chance to drive for Ferrari, in the place of Carlos Sainz. It would be your only chance to drive for Ferrari, you knew. There was no way you weren't going to fuck it up.

You ate slowly, thinking too much. The collar was still around your neck as you ate, and you were hyper aware of it each time you swallowed. It had always been tight, a warning to behave or deal with the consequences.

Your muzzle was on the bedside table. God, you hated that thing. It had been too tight for years, stained with blood. Your blood, Ollie Bearman's blood (you felt bad about that one. Ollie didn't deserve it, and you hadn't meant to bite him. He really was the sweet pup everybody saw him as. He just got caught in the crossfires of you and Théo Pourchaire), the blood of others.

Your food was finished, plate empty. Moving it to the door, you raised your hand and knocked. It was pulled open as you hopped back and looked at your handler. "How're you feeling?" She asked and she shrugged your shoulders, picking at your skin around your nails.

Your handler walked further into the room. She shut the door, put the plate beside your muzzle on the bedside table, and grabbed your hairbrush from your bag. "C'mere," she said and sat on the bed.

You did as you were told and came to sit in front of her. She brushed through your hair, humming as she did.

She was the closest thing you'd had to a mother. Ever. Kind and caring, making sure you actually took care of yourself. She cooked for you, brushed through your hair, used your shock collar when you put somebody else in danger.

You sat there, your eyes falling closed as you listened to her humming. You wouldn't hurt her, couldn't hurt her. She was all you had in this world.

She got you into bed before you could fall asleep. Your finger hooked beneath your chock collar and pulled, but it was so damn tight. A whimper left your lips and you struggled to fall asleep.

A Ferrari driver. You were going to be a Ferrari driver. It wouldn't be forever, but long enough. Maybe after this you could give up this dream that wasn't your own. You didn't know what else you would do if you were to give up this life, but you wanted to find out.

***

The entire Ferrari garage was anxious. Fred was anxious, the engineers were anxious, the social media team was anxious. Charles was anxious.

You were anxious.

Charles's research the night before hadn't prepared him for the first sight of you. His knee had been bouncing as he waited, thumbs tapping across his screen as he texted Max. Max was panicking, he knew. He didn't trust Charles, didn't trust him to protect himself in front of the driver nicknamed 'The Beast'.

You didn't deserve that nickname. After seeing the video of you attacking Ollie, he still didn't think you deserved the nickname. It was too close to somebody else he knew, to the way they were before someone showed them what love was.

You and Max were one in the same. He remembered when Jos would force Max to wear a muzzle, back when they were in the lower divisions. But that wasn't because Max was a danger. No, that was to keep him quiet, submissive in front of Jos.

If he could help Max, then he could help you.

But then you walked into the garage. The Ferrari shirt was on your body as you strode into the garage. Nothing looked out of place, nothing but the shock collar and the muzzle. It didn't look right on your face, biting into your cheeks and obscuring what he was sure was a gorgeous smile.

The woman who followed you into the garage introduced you, told everybody else your name. They all knew your name, but they were going to call you 'The Beast'.

For a moment, Charles wondered why you weren't the one speaking. But then he realised, you couldn't speak with the muzzle as tight as it was. He stood up and walked over, holding his hand out towards you.

You looked towards the woman that had followed you in. She gave you a nod and you finally placed your hand in his, shaking it. Good dog, he almost expected the woman to say to you.

You dropped his hand but you kept staring at him. You knew who is was. Charles Leclerc. The Prince of Monaco. Ferrari's golden boy. You had raced against his brother the year before. Arthur was smart enough to stay away from you. It didn't stop him from giving you a polite smile whenever you walked past.

As Charles tried to speak to you, and got answers from the woman behind you, your manager, your handler, he could feel eyes on him. Max, he knew immediately.

Max couldn't concentrate on whatever Helmut Marko was saying to him. He didn't care, anyway. Not when Charles was standing so close to somebody called 'The Beast'. Admittedly, the video made you look so much worse than this. The video didn't show you trembling like you were now. It didn't show you cowering behind the woman that followed you into the garage.

But he had seen the bite marks on Ollie's hand, had seen the damage you had done. You could so quickly do the same thing to Charles. He edged away from the Red Bull garage, stopping himself from running towards the Ferrari garage. His body was ready to go at a moments notice.

"Is the muzzle necessary?" Charles asked as he stared at you. You hadn't looked away from him, your eyes hadn't left his gaze.

No! You wanted to scream. Please, please, please get it off me!

But you couldn't say it. Couldn't speak with just how tight the muzzle was, wouldn't speak even if you could. But you couldn't trust yourself, you knew. If the muzzle was taken off, you couldn't stop yourself from lashing out, from feeling like that was the only way to protect yourself.

Your pathetic whimper got to him, though. His gaze softened and he reached towards you.

Immediately, Max was moving towards the Ferrari garage. "Fuck," he hissed as he ran.

Charles unlatched your muzzle. The way you were looking at him, looking so sweet and innocent, he couldn't help but pull the muzzle away.

The muzzle hit the floor, and you lunged for him.

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[urdreamydoodles]

Hi!!!

May I request something a little angsty to sweet?? 😈

An X-men x teen!reader with that one trope where it’s like:

“You’re not my dad/mom!”

“I know that, do you?”

With characters: Scott Summers, Logan Howlett, Storm, Beast, Magneto, and gambit

X-Men x Teen!Reader

You tell them that they are not your dad/mom during an argument

In the heat of the argument, the words slip out—sharp, hurtful. Their faces fall, stunned and wounded, but there’s a quiet pain in your own heart too, because you know the truth. Later, in the stillness, you find yourself beside them, whispering apologies, and they hold you as if to say: family isn’t only blood, it’s chosen.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Hank McCoy, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff & Wade Wilson

Ooh, you little evil spawn... I love this prompt, and I hope I have reached your expectations <3

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- Logan’s temper is legendary, but he’s always managed to keep it in check around you, knowing you need stability. However, the moment you shout “You’re not my dad!” during a heated argument, he feels a pang of anger and hurt. He’s spent years looking after you, guiding you in his gruff way, and in that second, it stings. Without missing a beat, he snaps back, “I know that, kid. Do you?”

- There’s a cold silence afterward, and Logan storms off, muttering under his breath. He knows he’s not technically your father, but you’re family to him. As he sits alone, drinking and stewing over the argument, he wonders if maybe he’s failed you somehow. He thinks back to the times he’d pulled you out of trouble or taught you some hard-won survival lessons, realizing just how deeply he cares.

- That night, the silence weighs heavy, and you feel a growing sense of regret. Logan has been the one constant in your life, a steady (if rough) presence who’s always had your back. You think about all the times he’s risked himself for you, the moments he’s tried to be there in his quiet, sometimes awkward way. It dawns on you that, without Logan, your life would be far lonelier—and that he truly has become a father figure.

- The next morning, Logan’s in the kitchen, frying eggs and bacon, trying to act like everything’s normal. When you finally muster up the courage to apologize, he doesn’t make it easy. He just grunts, flipping the eggs with a rough edge to his voice, not looking up. But he listens. After you tell him how much he means to you, he lets out a long sigh, and with a gruff but softer voice, he tells you, “Kid, you drive me crazy, but you’re family. You know that?”

- Later, you notice Logan starts going a little easier on you, keeping the snark to a minimum and checking in a bit more often. The bond between you grows even stronger, and while he’ll never be openly affectionate, you sense the quiet pride he has in you. If anyone tries to mess with you, Logan’s first in line to make sure they regret it.

- From then on, whenever you call him “Logan” instead of “Dad,” he just smirks and raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to say what you really feel. In his own way, he’s let you know that titles don’t matter—he’ll always be there, watching your back like only a true family member would.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy isn’t exactly the “strict parent” type, so when you start an argument with him, you’re used to his laid-back attitude. But this time, he gets serious, which shocks you enough to yell, “You’re not my dad!” Remy’s face goes still for a moment, then he raises an eyebrow with his usual calm demeanor, saying softly, “I know, cher. Do you?”

- Remy’s response hangs in the air, and he turns on his heel, leaving you to stew in the aftermath. You’re left alone, staring after him and feeling a pang of guilt. Remy has always treated you like family, his warmth and charm making you feel safe and wanted. You remember the countless times he’s been there for you, offering wisdom and laughter, even when you’ve messed up.

- That night, you can’t shake the look on his face—calm, yes, but with a hint of sadness. Remy’s always seemed so self-assured, but in that moment, it felt like he genuinely wondered if he’d overstepped. You begin to realize just how much he’s done to make you feel like you belong, without ever asking anything in return.

- The next day, you find Remy in the Danger Room, practicing. Nervously, you walk up to him and mumble an apology, explaining that you didn’t mean what you said. He turns to you, an understanding smile softening his gaze. “S��alright, kiddo. I know you got fire in you. Just remember—blood don’t make family.”

- After that, Remy’s even more of a constant presence, always ready to talk, laugh, or lend a hand. He starts making a point to remind you of your strengths, pushing you to see the best in yourself. Whenever he sees you slipping into self-doubt, he’ll casually throw in a story of one of his own mistakes, just to remind you that he’s been there too—and that he’ll always be there for you.

- Over time, you come to see Remy not just as a mentor, but as family, someone who chose to be in your life. He might not have the official title of “dad,” but there’s no question about the bond between you two. Remy’s heart is as big as his charm, and he’s shown you that family is something you build, piece by piece.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt’s patience seems endless, so when you yell, “You’re not my dad!” in the heat of an argument, the words shock you as much as they shock him. He’s silent for a moment, then replies gently, “I know, but are you sure?” He’s hurt but gives you a sad, understanding look before stepping away, giving you space to cool off.

- Afterward, the guilt eats away at you. Kurt has been nothing but kind and supportive, teaching you about acceptance and resilience, even when things are tough. His faith and positivity have been a guiding light in your life, and the thought of hurting him like this twists at your heart.

- You remember moments when he went out of his way to include you, especially when you felt like an outsider among mutants. Kurt has always been there, understanding what it’s like to be different and offering comfort when you needed it most. It hits you that, despite not being your biological father, he’s filled that role with all the love and patience he has.

- The next day, you find Kurt alone in the library, reading. You approach him, nervous but sincere, and apologize for what you said. He listens quietly, and when you’re done, he gives you a warm smile, saying, “It’s alright, mein freund. I will always be here, no matter what.” His forgiveness is immediate, his kindness knowing no limits.

- After that, Kurt becomes even more of a confidant, someone you know you can turn to for wisdom and understanding. He makes a point of reminding you that love is a choice, and he’s chosen you as family. Whenever you’re down, he’ll tell you stories of his own struggles, showing you that strength comes from within, even when life gets hard.

- The bond between you two only deepens, and Kurt’s gentle presence is something you come to cherish. He may not be your dad by blood, but he’s family through and through. Kurt’s unwavering faith in you becomes a source of comfort, a reminder that you’re never truly alone as long as he’s around.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott is used to being responsible and disciplined, so when you snap, “You’re not my dad!” during a heated disagreement, he doesn’t take it lightly. He stands there, tense and quiet, then responds, “I know. But do you?” before walking away, clearly hurt but too proud to let it show.

- That night, you can’t stop replaying the argument in your head. Scott may be strict, but he’s always had your best interests at heart. He’s spent countless hours training and guiding you, doing everything in his power to prepare you for the dangers of the world. As you think back, you start to feel the weight of what you said, realizing how much you’ve taken him for granted.

- You begin to understand that, in his own quiet way, Scott has been a father figure to you, even if he doesn’t say it outright. Every stern lecture, every training session—it was his way of protecting you, showing he cared. The guilt eats at you, and you know you need to make things right.

- The next morning, you approach him in the War Room, nervous but determined. You tell him how much his guidance means to you, how you didn’t mean what you said. Scott listens carefully, his expression softening as he nods. “We’re a team, and that means we’re family,” he says firmly. “I’m here for you, always.”

- From then on, Scott’s support becomes even more evident. He may not be the most openly affectionate, but he makes it clear that he’s in your corner, no matter what. He starts opening up to you more, sharing his own struggles with responsibility, letting you see the weight he carries as a leader and mentor.

- Over time, you come to appreciate Scott’s steady presence, realizing how lucky you are to have him as a father figure. He may be tough, but his loyalty is unwavering, and he’ll always have your back. In Scott, you find a kind of steadfast strength that reminds you every day that family isn’t defined by blood—it’s built on respect, care, and unwavering support.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean’s kindness is boundless, so when you shout, “You’re not my mom!” during an argument, her expression drops, a mix of shock and sadness. She takes a deep breath, her voice calm but strained, and says, “I know, but I care about you just the same. Do you know that?” With that, she steps back, giving you space to cool down, but the sadness in her eyes lingers.

- In the quiet that follows, you feel a pang of regret. Jean has always been there for you, her gentle support unwavering, guiding you with both warmth and patience. You remember the countless times she’s been there to comfort you, a soothing presence who never hesitated to make you feel loved. The memory of her expression, the way her shoulders slumped, makes you feel worse.

- That night, you find yourself replaying the argument over and over. You begin to realize how much Jean’s presence has shaped your life, that she’s been more than just a mentor or friend—she’s been like a mother, even if neither of you ever said it out loud. Each memory fills you with gratitude and a growing need to make things right.

- The next day, you find Jean in the garden, tending to the flowers with her usual care. Tentatively, you approach her, stumbling over an apology. She listens, her eyes soft as she pulls you into a gentle embrace. “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “I know these things aren’t easy. I’m here for you, no matter what.” Her forgiveness is instant, her hug comforting, as if she understands all you can’t say.

- After that, Jean becomes even more of a mother figure, offering a patient ear and a shoulder to lean on whenever you need. Her kindness is a quiet strength that you come to lean on more and more. You notice she checks in on you more often, making sure you know she’s there, even when words don’t need to be said.

- Over time, you come to cherish her presence even more, recognizing her as your found family. With Jean, you feel safe, loved, and valued, and her quiet guidance reminds you every day that family doesn’t have to be by blood. It’s in the love you choose to share, and Jean’s love is as steady as the rising sun.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo’s calm strength is like a force of nature, but when you yell, “You’re not my mom!” it’s as if a storm has passed through her eyes. She doesn’t lash out, doesn’t even raise her voice, but she looks at you with a steady gaze and says, “I know that, little one. Do you?” Her words are gentle but piercing, and she leaves you to ponder them.

- That night, as the weight of your words sinks in, guilt gnaws at you. Ororo has always treated you with kindness and respect, guiding you through life’s challenges with wisdom and care. She’s been your rock, the person who’s grounded you, and you feel ashamed for taking her love and protection for granted.

- You think back to all the moments Ororo has been there for you: teaching you about the world, sharing her culture, and encouraging you to be true to yourself. You realize that she’s been more than a mentor—she’s been family. Her quiet strength and unwavering love have been like the rain, nourishing you and helping you grow.

- The next day, you find Ororo on the rooftop, gazing at the horizon. Gathering your courage, you apologize, explaining how much she means to you. She listens, her gaze as steady and calm as ever, before she gently places a hand on your shoulder. “I forgive you,” she says with a small smile. “Family isn’t always about blood. It’s about the bonds we choose.” Her words bring you a comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

- After that, Ororo takes on an even more motherly role, gently guiding you and always offering wisdom when you need it most. You start spending more time together, finding solace in her presence and strength in her words. She reminds you of your own resilience, always making you feel capable and valued.

- Ororo’s love becomes a source of strength, and you come to see her as family in the truest sense. Her support is unwavering, her guidance is steady, and with her, you find the sense of belonging and family you never realized you craved. She’s a mother figure, not by title but by choice, and her love fills a space in your heart you hadn’t known was empty.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- Charles rarely shows disappointment, but when you yell, “You’re not my dad!” during an argument, there’s a flash of hurt in his eyes. He looks at you thoughtfully, his calm, composed demeanor intact, and simply says, “I know that, but are you sure?” before quietly excusing himself. His voice is soft, but the weight of his words lingers.

- As the reality of your words hits you, a wave of guilt follows. Charles has dedicated himself to making you feel safe, offering guidance, structure, and endless patience. He’s been more than just a mentor—he’s been a father figure, the one who’s always there to listen and guide you without judgment.

- You begin to reflect on all the small gestures he’s made to show he cares, from teaching you with kindness to offering you advice when life felt overwhelming. Charles has seen potential in you from the start, treating you with respect and compassion, and the thought of hurting him leaves a knot in your chest.

- The next day, you approach his study, nervous but determined to apologize. Charles listens, his usual calm presence enveloping you in a sense of safety. He smiles gently, nodding as you express your regrets, and simply says, “I understand, and I forgive you.” His forgiveness feels like a weight lifted, and he reminds you that love and family are choices, not just obligations.

- After that, you feel even closer to Charles, and he continues to be your steadfast supporter. He encourages you to pursue your strengths, guiding you with wisdom and patience, and you start to see him as a father figure you can truly depend on. His calm understanding becomes a source of comfort, a reminder that family can be chosen and built on mutual respect.

- Charles’s influence becomes a grounding force in your life, his guidance always there to lift you up. With him, you find a sense of belonging and love that goes beyond mere words. He may not be your biological father, but he’s family in every way that matters, and his unwavering belief in you becomes a constant source of strength.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik is not known for his patience, so when you yell, “You’re not my dad!” it’s like a slap to the face. His eyes harden, his voice cold as he responds, “I know, but perhaps you don’t.” With that, he turns away, his pride wounded but his expression betraying a flicker of sadness. For Erik, family is sacred, and your words cut deep.

- That night, guilt starts to creep in. Erik has been harsh, yes, but he’s always shown you the value of strength, resilience, and conviction. He’s taught you to be bold, to stand up for yourself, and though his methods are tough, he’s been there for you in ways that no one else has. You begin to realize how much you owe to his guidance.

- Memories flood back of times when Erik’s fierce loyalty protected you, his dedication ensuring you never felt alone. He’s been like a father to you, albeit a strict one, and as the guilt weighs on you, you see that his rough edges have been his way of showing love, even if he doesn’t say it outright.

- The next day, you approach him with an apology, your voice shaky but sincere. Erik listens, his piercing gaze softened by something like understanding. He accepts your apology, and in his own stern way, he reminds you that strength is born of struggle. His words are harsh, but his forgiveness is there, hidden beneath his rough demeanor.

- From that moment on, Erik’s presence becomes even more of a steady force in your life. He challenges you to be your best, pushing you to embrace your potential, and though he rarely shows open affection, his actions speak louder than words. He’ll protect you fiercely, his bond with you deepening as he takes on the role of a mentor and protector.

- Erik’s influence makes you feel strong and capable, and while he’s a difficult figure to love, you know that he’s chosen you as family. His pride and determination inspire you to believe in yourself, and even if he’ll never say it directly, his loyalty is proof that you’re family to him, forged through fire and unbreakable.

Hank McCoy aka. Beast

- Hank is rarely one to raise his voice, but when you blurt out, “You’re not my dad!” in the heat of an argument, he freezes. For a moment, he’s quiet, his face clouded with hurt before he gives you a calm but serious look. “I’m aware of that. But I’ve always tried to be here for you, haven’t I?” His voice is gentle, yet his words sting in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Without another word, he leaves, giving you the space you both clearly need.

- As you cool down from the argument, guilt quickly sets in. Hank has been nothing but patient and caring, always offering you understanding and support when you needed it most. His gentle presence has been a source of comfort, and the memory of the sadness in his eyes makes you realize how deeply you’ve hurt him.

- Reflecting on all the times Hank has been there for you, you remember how he would stay up late to help you with your studies, his voice soft and encouraging as he shared his vast knowledge. His kindness was never forced; he genuinely cared, and you start to see that he’s been like a father figure all along, even if neither of you ever put a name to it.

- The next day, you find Hank in the lab, engrossed in his work as usual. Hesitantly, you apologize, struggling to find the right words. Hank stops what he’s doing, looking at you with that familiar, gentle expression. “I appreciate your apology,” he says, his tone warm and forgiving. He doesn’t need to say much to make you feel better; his soft smile is enough to lift the weight from your shoulders.

- After that, Hank is still there for you, but the bond between you feels stronger. He seems to make an effort to check in on you more often, even gently guiding you through life’s challenges with his usual wisdom and warmth. You realize how much you’ve come to rely on him as a steady presence in your life.

- Hank’s compassion and patience become pillars of support as you grow, and he becomes more than just a mentor—he’s family. His encouragement and gentle guidance make you feel valued, and you start to understand that family isn’t just about blood; it’s about those who choose to stand by you, even when things get tough. With Hank, you’ve found a father figure in the truest sense.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- When you yell, “You’re not my mom!” in a heated moment, Wanda’s eyes flash with pain. She takes a deep breath, her voice steady but laced with hurt as she responds, “I know I’m not. But I’ve always tried to be there for you, haven’t I?” Her voice is soft, a mix of sadness and disappointment that lingers in the air as she turns away, giving you the space you clearly need.

- Guilt settles over you like a weight as you recall everything Wanda has done for you. She’s been a constant source of love and protection, going out of her way to create a safe space for you in a chaotic world. Her kindness has been unwavering, and the memory of her hurt expression leaves you feeling remorseful.

- You begin to remember all the times Wanda has comforted you, her gentle presence like a soothing balm when the world felt overwhelming. She’s always known what to say, her intuition guiding her as she wrapped you in warmth and reassurance. You realize how much her presence means to you, that she’s been a mother figure even if you never said it.

- The next day, you approach Wanda, the words of an apology on your lips. She listens, her eyes softening as you explain how sorry you are. She pulls you into a gentle hug, murmuring, “It’s okay. I understand.” Her forgiveness is immediate, her embrace warm and reassuring, and you feel the weight of your guilt lift as you lean into her.

- After that, Wanda continues to be there for you, her love as constant and unwavering as ever. She’s more protective, always ensuring you know you’re loved and valued. Her presence feels like home, a reminder that family is more than just titles; it’s the bond you share and the love that endures even through difficult moments.

- Over time, Wanda becomes even more of a mother figure, her guidance and love anchoring you as you grow. With her, you find a sense of belonging, a family built on mutual care and understanding. Wanda’s love becomes a source of strength, and you come to see her as family in the truest sense.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- Pietro has always been quick to defend you, so when you shout, “You’re not my dad!” during an argument, his face falls, his usual bravado replaced by a flicker of hurt. He hesitates, then responds with a hint of vulnerability, “I know I’m not. But I care about you, and that’s not going to change.” He doesn’t say much more, leaving with a hint of frustration and sadness.

- Your heart aches almost immediately after the words leave your mouth. Pietro has always been a constant in your life, fiercely protective and ready to do anything to keep you safe. His loyalty has been unwavering, and the memory of his hurt expression weighs on you, leaving you feeling guilty.

- As the regret settles in, you begin to think back to all the moments Pietro has been there for you, his fast-paced life slowing down whenever you needed him. His protectiveness might come off as overbearing, but it’s always been rooted in love. You realize how much you mean to him, that he’s been like a father figure, even if neither of you put it into words.

- The next day, you find him in the training room, going through a series of drills. Nervously, you approach him with an apology. Pietro pauses, listening intently, and his usual cocky grin returns as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, saying, “Don’t worry, kid. Family fights sometimes.” His words are light, but there’s a warmth in his tone that makes you feel forgiven.

- From then on, Pietro is still as protective as ever, though he seems to make an extra effort to remind you that he’s there for you. He includes you in his adventures, always finding ways to bring laughter and excitement into your life. His loyalty is fierce, and you find comfort in the way he’s chosen to stand by you.

- Pietro’s support becomes a source of strength, and over time, you come to see him as family. He’s there for you in ways that matter, his love loud and unfiltered. With him, you’ve found a father figure who’s more than willing to face the world at your side, his loyalty a constant reminder that family is chosen as much as it is given.

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- Wade’s never been the most conventional parental figure, but when you snap, “You’re not my dad!” he goes silent. It’s rare to see him at a loss for words, but the hurt that flickers across his face is hard to miss. After a pause, he says, “Hey, I know that, but... I kinda thought we had something here, y’know?” He tries to play it off, but the sadness in his voice lingers as he gives you space.

- Almost immediately, regret starts to settle in. Wade has been your protector, your friend, and even if he’s unconventional, he’s always made sure you’re safe. He’s taught you to laugh, to find humor even in dark situations, and the thought of hurting him leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

- You think back to all the times Wade has made you feel cared for, his offbeat sense of humor a constant source of comfort. He’s been like a father in his own chaotic way, always finding unique ways to show he cares. The memory of his hurt expression haunts you, and you feel a strong need to make things right.

- Finding Wade isn’t hard; he’s at the usual hangout, cracking jokes to mask whatever he’s feeling. You approach him, offering an apology, and he listens, his face breaking into a goofy grin. “Oh, kid, you can’t get rid of me that easy!” he teases, pulling you into a bear hug that’s both ridiculous and comforting.

- After that, Wade goes back to being his usual chaotic self, but he’s even more protective, throwing around jokes about being your “self-appointed, totally unofficial, slightly psychotic dad.” His antics make you laugh, and you come to appreciate his unique way of showing love, realizing he’s been there for you all along.

- Wade’s love may be unorthodox, but it’s real, and over time, you come to see him as family. He’s the loud, unpredictable presence you didn’t know you needed, his humor and loyalty bringing you a sense of belonging. With Wade, you’ve found a father figure who’ll stand by you, his love chaotic and unconditional in every way that matters.

[frankenkyle19]

‘Fur-reaky’

Peter Maximoff x Werewolf-type reader

Description: Reader is a sort of beast like mutant. Peter takes a liking to reader and they fuck. That’s literally it. Not proofread or read over at all I’m literally in a coffee shop rn about to drive over to work. Enjoy my feral lovelies.

Word count: 2.9k

Of course Peter was more than a little curious when he heard about the new addition potentially coming to join the team. Or for Charles to train or whatever the hell. He didn’t know any of that. He’d heard about you in passing. Scott and Jean had whispered about you a few times. Nothing bad, just curious questions between the two of them. They hadn’t realized Peter was listening. He was always somewhere listening, though which was a bit creepy. Was he a creep? No, surely not…

Anyways back to you.. He wasn’t exactly sure what kind of mutant you were but from what he heard you were kinda like Hank just… increasingly less blue. Peter was curious about the fur and even more curious about what you’d look like but when he saw Charles escorting you down the hall towards your room, he couldn’t help but be disappointed. You weren’t covered in fur! You just looked.. Normal? What the hell! He sped off to the kitchen to grab a snack when he realized that like Hank, you were probably able to go in and out of your form and maybe he was just an idiot. Well.. He knew he was an idiot.. But if you know you’re an idiot does that actually make you an idiot or self actualized and smart?

Peter shrugged as he grabbed a pudding cup and zoomed off back to his room. He wasn’t ready to introduce himself just yet because he didn’t want to seem like he was coming off as a desperate creep. He’d meet you later. Maybe ‘accidentally’ run into you in the hall. Yup. That could definitely work.

After he finished his cup of pudding he still found himself bored. Entertainment was difficult to come by in the mansion unless he wanted to annoy the others and by now they were beyond fed up with him. He thought back to the new mutant that Charles had by now probably shown around the place and right now you were probably putting away your things and getting settled.

He knew he really shouldn’t go and bother the newbie but Peter had never been known for his self restraint now had he? So, he tossed the now sadly empty pudding cup towards his little trash can, missed, and zoomed out of his room and down the hall towards yours.

He miscalculated the time it would take to stop and he whizzed past your door before coming back a moment later. He ran a hand through his silver hair to tame it back down after running. The frizz he got was insane and he had even started to consider carrying a mini hairbrush with him to brush through it after running.

He hoped he didn’t look awful.. He was wearing his silver jacket that he never took off and one of his many band tees. Along with a pair of black jeans. His usual casual outfits that he wore pretty much anywhere.

Finally after gaining the courage he brought his fist up to knock on your door. Once. Twice. Three times-

He almost doubted himself for a moment and was about to just speed away but you opened the door, standing in front of him with a curious tilt to your head as you took him in.

“Hello.. Can I help you?” Your voice came out and Peter… Well Peter was fucked because you were cute and he liked the way your voice sounded too. Oh shit.

“My name’s Peter but everyone calls me Quicksilver, just thought I’d do my duty and come greet the newbie.” He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant when really he was mentally flipping out, stomach doing little cartwheels. No one had really caught his eye yet and he’d been suuuper lonely lately. He just wanted some company. Some good company if you caught his drift.

“It’s nice to meet you Peter,” you said before you gave him your name and fucking again it was pretty and Peter felt like he was going to blow up dramatically like some cartoon character.

“Pretty name, babes. So we haven’t heard a lot about you, Charles is prettyyyy confidential. What’s your power?”

A blush of embarrassment rose over your features and Peter wasn’t sure what that meant. Oh! Oh no… were you embarrassed? That just wouldn’t do…

“Because me, well I’ve got super speed and this funky lookin’ hair.” He said witn a comically large smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I’ve… it’s-“ Your words stumbled over each other as you tried to find a way to explain it without it sounding weird. Really, you’d always thought it was a stupid power but Peter looked so genuinely curious that you decided you might as well show him.

You beckoned Peter into your room before closing the door behind him and Peter raised a curious brow at your actions. I mean like he was totally cool with all that he had absolutely no qualms about getting down and d-

Oh! Peter had it wrong like he so often did.

In the moment it took to close the door and step back from Peter you’d grown several inches taller and were now… practically covered in fur.

Peter’s eyes widened in awe as he took in your form. Holy hell that was cool! You really were like a regular, non-blue version of Hank! No offense to him but Peter found you much more attractive too. You also had what appeared to be super sharp nails or claws and he thought those just looked super badass.. Everything about you really.

“Holy shit! Look at you! That’s sick as hell!” Peter exclaimed, brown eyes still scanning your frame. He was immediately enamored.

——————————————

That was how yours and Peter’s relationship started. Well, not really a relationship but also more than just a friendship. You found yourself snuggled up to Peter’s side on team movie nights and there were always lingering touches shared between the two of you. Most of the other X-men assumed the two of you actually were full on dating and every time you or Peter denied it they just scoffed and looked at you like you were crazy. Maybe you were, but Peter and you didn’t really find it super important to try and label what you had. It was good, that’s all you knew.

It was another one of those nights, the X-men decided to watch some stupid movie together after a long week. All of you sitting around the tv with popcorn and various candies. It was actually quite sweet. Peter sat next to you on one of the large comfy chairs, arms wrapped around your waist to hold you close.

Eventually at some point during the movie one of Peter’s hands that rested on your hip had started to move closer to your… Well.. Y’know..

What was he doing?! Peter himself didn’t even really know. The two of you hadn’t done anything like that yet… It was a sort of boundary that neither of you dared to cross. A line in the sand if you will.

Until now. Peter’s heart was beating a million miles an hour in his chest as he tried to gauge your reaction. You didn’t seem too bothered by it but he didn’t want to ever do something you didn’t like. So instead of silently continuing, he leaned down to whisper in your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

“Wanna get out of here? This movies pretty boring and if you’re up for it I think I can give us some much better entertainment.”

You were at a loss for words so a little nod was all the confirmation you gave the speedster before he was standing up, pulling you with him. Some of the other X-men looked up at the both of you, confused as to what you were doing but for the most part they all kept their eyes on the movie that was playing.

“We’re gonna go head off to bed for the night, adios!” Peter gave a little wave before he grabbed onto you and sped the two of you off to his room. His room was… much more cluttered than yours. The walls were covered in band posters- Nirvana, Rush, Pink Floyd, as many as you could think. His bed was unmade and the drawers to his dresser were all slightly open, clothes spilling out of them.

“Sorry babe, didn’t get a chance to clean,” He said a bit sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with a little chuckle.

“Peter I could care less what your room looks like- but what were you doing out there?! In front of everyone? What were you thinking? I mean someone could have seen and then-“ Yours words were cut off as Peter pressed his lips against yours, cupping your cheek in his warm palm, letting his thumb run across your skin gently.

Once you got your bearings you kissed back, hands bunching up the fabric of the band tee he was wearing, feeling the fibers beneath your fingertips. You’d wanted to steal a few of his t-shirts for a while now but didn’t know how he’d take to that.

Right at the moment he was absolutely lost in the kiss, gentle lips coaxing yours further and further into a glorious unity that was the two of you.. Peter was really beating himself up for not doing this sooner.. Especially with the way you were reacting to it.

You gave him a gentle nudge, pulling away to take a breath as he stared at you with his wide brown eyes, looking a lot like a deer in headlights. Like he didn’t know what to do next.

“So…” You started, eyeing him curiously. “You said you had better entertainment than the movie? Ready to prove that?”

And if Peter’s eyes already looked like they were going to bug out of his head before you said that, they really really did now. He couldn’t believe his ears! This was better than any Twinkie or snack cake in the world..

He wanted to come off cool and collected but really he just gave a gentle shrug of his shoulders and bounced on the balls of his feet nervously, not making eye contact with you. “Well I- Yeahhhhh babe, definitely got… I mean- or- ahh fuck!” He facepalmed, shaking his head as his cheeks began to heat.

“Peter- calm down. I’m just teasing you. You look cute when you’re flustered… But, I was serious. Y’know.. If you wanted to.” And now your cheeks were red too and the both of you were dancing around actually talking about it because neither of you were sure what to say.

Peter knew that one of you had to say or do something though so he decided to actually take charge and he pulled you into another kiss, his mouth practically devouring yours as he grabbed at your hips with a bit of force behind his actions this time. He didn’t seem as unsure of himself. Now that he was sure you weren’t going to turn him down.

“Peter-“ you breathed out, chest rising and falling heavily and Peter had to admit- he was definitely staring at your breasts.. Like for sure and he wasn’t even really that ashamed of it.. You had great titties! He couldn’t just not.

Peter gave you a lazy smile and looked like he was about to open his mouth and say something stupid again so you intervened.

“Take your clothes off.”

It was forward but it caused the reaction you wanted out of him. He looked a bit taken aback, mouth agape for several long seconds before he managed to respond with words.

“I- my clothes?”

“Yes, Peter. Your clothes.” You said once more, and to help encourage him a little more you took off your own shirt, giving him a beautiful view of your breasts in the bra you wore. It wasn’t anything special but to Peter? God, he’d never seen anything better in his whole life.

He didn’t need much more coaxing after that because he was tossing off his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head with a speed that made it hard to actually see what he was doing. He was already stripping down to his boxers and it had only been like.. Five seconds. It took you a bit longer because you unfortunately were not graced with the speed Peter had. Your mutation was something you thought much weirder.. Something you kept hidden as much as you could.

He looked up at you, silver hair falling into his eyes which he quickly pushed back. He let out a low whistle, unable to stop the grin that appeared on his face when he saw you. God.. He was stupidly in love and it was going to be the end of him.

The two of you fell into bed quickly after that, hands everyone, touching, grabbing, coaxing moans out of the other with satisfied twin smirks on your lips.

Eventually in the whirlwind of it all, Peter found a condom and slid it on, positioning himself at your entrance before looking up at you to make sure he was good to go.

You gave a little nod and he slowly slid into you, silver eyebrows furrowing at how tight and warm you were wrapped around him.

He placed his hands gently at your shoulders, giving you a few tender kisses before he pulled out and started to move at a pace that was excruciatingly slow for him but just right for you to get used to his girth.

Your head was thrown back into the pillows, moans spilling freely from your throat as your hands reached for Peter, gripping onto his biceps tightly as you clenched around him.

Peter’s eyes had been closed practically the whole time, trying not to bust a nut in the first five seconds and embarrass himself, but when he did open his eyes he saw that you looked.. Quite a bit different than when he’d closed them.

“Holy shit..” Peter whispered under his breath, glancing down at you. At first you were confused before you glanced down at your body, now covered in fur. Quite a bit less than… Say beast, but enough that it obviously made a difference. Your eyes had also changed to a deep, almost glowing yellow.

You made a move to shove at Peter’s chest, trying to get up and cover yourself but he stopped you. “Hey- hey woah look at me. You’re beautiful, okay? I’m not good with all this lovey-dovey stuff but I mean it. You’re gorgeous like this, baby. Doesn’t make me want you any less.”

Your brows furrowed heavily at him, trying to see if he was really telling the truth or if he was just trying to make you feel better. But you remembered how bad of a liar Peter Maximoff actually was and came to the conclusion that he had to be telling the truth.

You also came to the realization that he was still balls deep inside of you, twitching rather eagerly, desperate to move again.

“Can- Can I?” He asked rather shyly, giving a little jut of his hips even further against yours, hands resting at your sides, feeling over the soft fur there. All he could think about was fucking the shit out of you and then cuddling up to you afterwards. You felt so warm.

A little nod of your head had Peter pulling back before plunging himself back into you with a shaky gasp, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. You smelled like perfume and warmth and god dammit if Peter wasn’t already addicted.

Your back arched into him, trying to get more. He felt so damn good inside of you it was actually criminal. That the two of you could have been doing this the entire time instead of dancing around each other in fear of rejection.

“Peter-“

“I know, feels totally outrageously good, doesn’t it? Just like that, fuuuuuuck.” Peter tossed his head back, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, his silver hair falling from his face. His hands clenched gently at your sides, not being too forceful but also not exactly gentle. He couldn’t help himself.

The two of you continued that slow, nearly torturous pace until you were arching against each other, breath hot, the room filling with heat and the smell of sex.

Your lips were connected as the two of you barreled towards release, trying to prolong it as long as you could.

“I’m so close baby girl- so close fuck I’m gonna cum- you almost there sweetheart?”

The pet names had your cheeks heating as you gave a little nod before pulling Peter down into another harsh kiss, nipping at his bottom lip.

The cry that left him was nothing short of heavenly, his hips stuttering before he stilled inside of you, panting against your lips. His hips may have stopped but the feeling was quickly replaced by a low vibration on your clit that you soon realized was coming from his fingers.

He’d turned into a whining mess after his orgasm but he was so eager to see that you came as well.

“Please- cum for me baby please, want it so bad please-“ he begged, practically slurring his words as the vibrations intensified.

You didn’t need much more convincing after that, a strangled cry leaving your lips as finally that band snapped and you came, whole body shaking underneath him.

He helped you through your orgasm before you were gently pushing his hand away, nearly wincing with overstimulation.

“Alright Peter that’s- that’s enough… Jesus that was good.”

Peter, who had caught his breath by now pulled out of you and grinned playfully. “See baby, we could have been doing that the whole time!”

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Sibling Rivalry {1}

Pairing: F1 drivers (platonic) x fem!reader Summary: A little crack!fic as a driver!reader who is Max's little half-sister. Warnings: 18+ only, lots of bad language, protective big brother, sibling antics, daddy issues. WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three

There was nothing that irked you more than being called a Verstappen. Yes, you were Max’s sister, but that was where the relationship with the name ended. Your sperm donor, as you publicly referred to Jos, had never been a part of your life and that was one blessing you were thankful for. 

Somehow the bastard's genetics had won and that stupid racer’s blood ran in your veins. You liked to go fast. Your mother said that you could run before you could walk and the same went for driving. At 17 years old you had your super licence before your drivers licence, making it legal to drive at 200 mph around a circuit with insane corners but not 30 mph on the street.

Something about that seemed…odd.

It was worth it in the end. You could still remember the look on Jos’ face when you signed for Alpha Tauri. Oh, how the bastard had tried to credit himself with your achievement. But there were more similarities that you shared with your half sibling than you were willing to admit. One of those shared traits was brutal honesty. And you had let your honest thoughts fly when Jos opened his mouth.

Three years later the sperm donor was still bitter. He would surely have to get used to it, especially since you had just been named as a Red Bull driver, alongside Max.

Round One - Bahrain 2022 “This is a historical first, siblings racing together on the same team,” Ted Kravitz said as he walked along the pit, stopping outside Red Bull’s garage. “The two Verstappen's will be fighting each other for the Driver Championship, once again, while simultaneously working together to win the Constructors Championship. A very, very exciting season ahead I can already tell.”

You had been pulling your helmet on, about to climb into the RB18 when you heard the comment. The short temper you were well known for flared and you sauntered into the pit lane. “Hey, Ted Crapitz,” you called out as he stood writing in that little notepad of his.

He looked up a little stunned and his eyes darted at the camera that was always following him around. “It’s, uh, Kravitz.”

“Oh, my apologies, I thought it was just normal to make up offensive surnames. No?” you asked as you arched an eyebrow at him. “Because Verstappen isn’t mine, so don’t ever call me that again.”

“S-sorry, my mistake,” he stammered, but you were already shoving your helmet on and grabbing the halo to climb into your car. “A bit of a slap on the wrist for me there.”

You had no doubt that the video would go viral and the comments would call you a bitch but you didn’t care. Jos was a piece of shit and your mother didn’t raise you all on her own, working two jobs to pay for your karting years, just for you to be called a fucking Verstappen.

There was no better feeling than pulling out of the garage and heading to the track. The finely tuned car purred beneath you and you could feel the restrained power of it just waiting for you to pass the pit marker so you could push the throttle and free the beast you had worked hard to control.

“Radio check,” your engineer, Nicholas, ordered through the headset.

“Tell big bro to keep his mouth closed during the race. It can’t be healthy to eat my dust.” 

“Understood.”

The jeroboam size bottle of Ferrari Trento looked enormous in your hands as you shook it up and sprayed Charles and Carlos back after drenching you first. You may have been on the bottom step of the podium but you celebrated as if you had taken 1st place. Turning the bottle on the crowd, you spotted Max at the front with a wide grin on his face as he cheered with the rest of Red Bull. 

It was a little disappointing that he had DNF’d but there was always next week to battle it out again. In the meantime you enjoyed the adrenaline of the podium finish and the image of Jos standing to the side with a face like a slapped ass. It was a feeling you could definitely get used to.

Round Eleven - Great Britain 2022 The leaderboard changed almost every week, flipping like hotcakes between you and Max. It was labelled as sibling rivalry, and for once the media got it right. Though you hadn’t grown up with Max there was an innate need to know who was better, who could push the limits harder and who could get away with it. Some weeks it was you, some weeks it wasn’t. It was all part of the fun. 

Fun. Now that was something that came in spades. The camaraderie that came with the competitiveness was always something you enjoyed moving up from F3 and F2 before reaching F1. With only 19 other people sharing the same experience with you, it was impossible not to grow close to them. 

“Can you let Max in front today?” Lando asked as you walked along the grid. “Please?”

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because he’d rather look at your ass than Max’s, if he can hold third place.” You turned to the other McLaren driver to see a grin splitting the Australian’s face. 

“Aww, Lando, the real English gentleman,” you tutted sarcastically as you pulled your balaclava off your shoulder and snickered when it slapped Lando across the back of his head.

“Unnecessary violence, Spitfire,” he gasped before muttering under his breath, “I know who you get that from.”

A growl pulled back your lips and you punched him none too softly in the bicep, which was a double edged sword because it was far harder than you were expecting and you felt the hit in your knuckles. 

“Oh, Lando, Lando, Lando,” Daniel chuckled as he walked off to his car. “When are you going to learn?”

“You know the car goes faster with less weight,” Lando said as he rubbed his arm.

“Yeah, so?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “All that baggage you carry is weighing you down.”

“Well, that’s just stupid, metaphors weigh nothing...” You pulled your balaclava over your face as you walked from the second row to the front where the two Red Bulls were parked side by side. 

“Hey Lan,” you called out as you turned back with the urge to lighten the mood after he had looked crestfallen. “Don’t get too excited when I warm up my tires, that’s not me shaking my ass for you.”

You could see the corners of his eyes wrinkle with a smile that was hidden by the balaclava he pulled on. “A lad can dream, Spitfire.”

You had earned the nickname of Spitfire from dog-fighting your way to the front of the pack and it was one you were proud of, it certainly beat being called a bitch day in and day out. 

“Just keep it to your dreams, yeah? I’m already paying too much for therapy.”

“You can talk about your daddy issues later,” Max interrupted, tossing your helmet into your waiting hands. “Get in your car, zusje.”

You grinned to yourself as the formation lap began and you started weaving across the track to warm your tires. All Lando would be able to think about was your ass as the rear wing swayed side to side and the thought of made you laugh since you lived to torment the guys on and off the track.

“Radio check.”

“I can’t wait to show everyone the upgrades.”

“Understood.” There was a pause before Nicholas returned. “Uh, you weren’t scheduled for any upgrades.”

Your start was terrible as Max flew away at lights out and then you were nearly clipped in the first turn by Lando, the swerve you took to avoid a collision letting Charles slip straight past.

“DRS activated this lap.”

You passed the starting line on the heels of Charles, Lando close behind but not close enough to use DRS just yet. The Ferrari was quick but he was out of Max’s DRS range and your straight line speed was far superior, it was only a matter of time before you reached the first DRS zone and made your move to overtake. 

“Did you just use indicators?”

You laughed as you hit the buttons on your console before pulling out of the slipstream, the rear wing opened to reduce the drag, and flew past the red car. You hit the new button the electrical engineer had rewired before pulling in front of Charles and laughed as you saw the replay on the big screens around the circuit.

“It’s only polite to indicate when overtaking. Have you never read the road code?”

“I’m more worried about the FIA regulations than the road code.”

“You worry too much, Christian can afford a little fine.”

“£150,000 for a laugh! Are you taking the mick outta me?”

You tried to keep a serious face as you faced Christian but one look at Max’s amusement had a smile cracking through. 

“No, you don’t get to laugh about this,” Christian snapped, pulling your attention back to him. “You too, Max. It’s like having a couple of fucking children around here.”

“It was nothing to do with me,” Max argued. “I would never pull a stunt like that.”

“You have something on your nose,” you said as you pointed and he wiped at it. “Nope, still brown.”

His lip twitched before he snickered and playfully shoved your shoulder. 

A heavy sigh of disappointment filled the private room in the motorhome and you both looked at Christian. “With Max winning last year we are going to be under even more scrutiny, and this sort of behaviour isn’t going to earn us any favours. Cut the shit out and pay the fucking fine.”

You started to open your mouth to point out the fine was charged to Red Bull not you but a sharp elbow from Max had you clamming your lips closed again. 

“She’ll be better behaved,” Max promised with a glare that warned you to stay silent to save yourself from lying.

“Fine, get out there before the interviews are finished.”

You were never a fan of the post-race interviews but you left Christian’s office like it was lights out, racing ahead of Max to get to the media pit. 

You skidded to a halt at the side of the stage and Charles patted the empty space between him and Lando just as Max arrived. The other space on the couch was at the end beside Lance and you looked at Max with narrowed eyes before making a break for the better seat. Lando had to jump aside as you slammed into the seat just before Max but it didn’t stop him from planting himself on top and you groaned at the weight.

“Second place again, Max Emillian,” you wheezed as you tried to push him off and looked at Charles. “A little help?”

“Sorry, there are universal rules: we can’t interfere with sibling rivalries,” he said with an apologetic smile.

“Arthur’s my favourite Leclerc.”

Max took full advantage while you were distracted, staring daggers at Charles, and shoved you aside to take the cushioned seat with a smarmy grin. “Remember, best behaviour,” he warned as he got comfortable and accepted the microphone handed to you.

He should have known that the challenge couldn’t go unanswered and so you stood up, but you weren’t admitting defeat. His smile fell when you sat down on Lando’s lap, much to everyone’s surprise. 

“Hands off my sister, Norris,” Max quipped, but Lando’s hands were still in the air from where he froze, not knowing what to do with them or where to put them.

“This is quite comfy,” you noted as you wriggled around. “Maybe this can be my spot every week.”

“Fuck, fine,” Max growled as he stood up and walked down the line to sit with Lance. “Take the fucking seat.”

Charles laughed as you slipped into the seat and he held his fist out. “Everytime.”

You bumped his fist and smirked as the interviews finally got underway. “Every damn time.”

Click here for part two.

[smoooothoperator]

What Was I Made For?

22: All Things End

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers (👀)

Warnings: the last scene...

a/n: HIIIIIIII NEW CHAPTER!!!!!!! I have to say that this one was so emotive to write because I went through the same :)

if you want to play a game and ask things about Dafne

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The crowd's roar watching Lando getting out of the car echoed in the distance, but I barely heard it. The weight of the result sat heavy on my chest as I walked through the pit lane after I weighed myself, helmet in hand. Fourth. So close to a podium, but close meant nothing in this sport. I’d given everything, fought until the last lap, but it wasn’t enough. It never seemed to be enough. Half a second away is not enough.

I knew they were all watching me, the engineers, the mechanics, the team principal.. They didn’t need to say anything. I could feel their disappointment as much as my own. But more than that, I could feel their sympathy, which somehow felt  even worse.

I shook my head, trying to clear it as I unzipped my suit. I could feel the sweat clinging to my skin, the heat still radiating from my body. The car had been a beast out there, so close to perfection but betraying me when it mattered most. I glanced down at the Ferrari emblem on my chest, my fingers brushing over it. We should’ve had it today. It slipped away, and My jaw tightened, and I could feel my grip on the helmet hardening. A dull heat settled in my chest, like embers smoldering, waiting to ignite. 

“Charles, you did your best” someone said, an engineer, I think. I nodded, forcing a small smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. I couldn’t even fake it right now.

My eyes scanned the crowd, looking for Dafne. And there she was, walking toward me. She looked different now, not just because of the obvious, with her round belly that made my heart swell every time I saw it, but because she wasn’t the one in the suit, and wasn't stepping out of the car. She was on the other side of the barrier now, watching instead of driving. 

I still saw it sometimes, the longuing  in her eyes when she watched the cars line up on the grid. She never said it, but I knew it weighed on her, the thrill of racing just out of reach now. But seeing her here, waiting for me, with our son growing inside her, I felt a different kind of pull. Something deeper. She had sacrificed so much, and I hadn’t even brought home a win for her today.

When she reached me, she didn’t say a word, just wrapped her arms around me. I closed my eyes and rested my chin on her head, feeling the warmth of her body, the rhythm of her breathing. For a second, it was just us. No team, no podium, no race. Just Dafne and me. 

“I’m sorry” I muttered into her hair. 

I hated that I’d let her down.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Charles. You drove brilliantly.” she smiled, looking into my eyes.

Her voice was soft, full of that reassurance that I’d come to depend on. But I couldn’t shake the feeling gnawing at me. I wanted to be more than just brilliant. I wanted to win. For her, for our baby, for the team, for myself.

I sighed, feeling my frustration boiling under the surface. My hand instinctively rested on her belly, where our baby kicked gently. That always helped, always reminded me of the bigger picture, but today, the sting of losing was hard to push away.

“For you and the baby” I said, my voice barely a whisper. I hated how it sounded, like an apology for something I couldn’t control.

 “We’re both so proud of you. There’ll be other races. You’ll get your win” her fingers caressed my cheek, soft but firm, and she smiled up at me, her eyes full of warmth.

I wanted to believe her, I really did. I nodded, but the smile didn’t feel right, as if it cracked on my lips. My stomach churned, twisting in ways no one could see. I’d been saying that to myself for years now. There’ll be other races. And there always were. But somehow, something always went wrong. Strategy. Tires. An unlucky safety car. And now, with the championship in mind, a fourth-place finish felt like a punch to the gut.

But Dafne…She never stopped believing. Even when I was down, when I couldn’t see the way forward, she did. She always had, even before we were together, back when we were just competitors and we hated the other, fighting for every tenth on the track.

I kissed her gently, just on the corner of her mouth, needing that small connection, rubbing soft circles over her belly.

 “I hope so” I said, but it sounded fake to my own ears.

The paddock noise began to filter back in, the debrief looming ahead. I’d have to face the team, go through every lap, every corner, every tire strategy. It was the part I hated most after a tough race: the arguments, the what-ifs, the “if only we had…” moments that I knew would haunt me for the next few days.

I turned to walk toward the garage again, Dafne’s hand still in mine. I could feel the sweat starting to dry on my skin, the exhaustion creeping in, but there was no time to process it yet. The media would want their interviews, the engineers would want to go over the data, and I’d have to relive every second of the race.

But Dafne tugged on my hand, pulling me to a stop just before we reached the engineers waiting for me. I turned to look at her, and there was something in her eyes, something different. A fierceness, maybe. Determination.

“Charles” she said, her voice firm but gentle, smiling weakly at me. “You have to stop beating yourself up for things you can’t control.”

I blinked, taken aback by her words. It was like she had read my mind, peeled back the layers of frustration that were suffocating me.

“You drove your heart out today” she continued, her hand resting on my chest now, feeling the rapid beat of my heart. “And it’s okay to be disappointed. But you don’t have to carry it alone.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight. I didn’t know what to say. She knew me so well, better than anyone. She knew how hard I was on myself, how I replayed every mistake, every missed opportunity over and over again in my head.

“I just… I wanted to win for you” I finally admitted, my voice cracking just a little, making me smile weakly while keeping her hand on my chest.

“For me?” She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a soft smile. “Charles, I don’t need you to win for me. I need you to keep being the man you are, the one who never stops fighting, no matter what. That’s what matters.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, a wave of emotion rolling through me. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close, pressing my forehead to hers. The sounds of the paddock faded once more, the pressure lifting just slightly.

“I love you” I whispered, the words coming easier now, settling deep in my chest.

“I love you too” she whispered back, her breath warm against my skin. 

For a moment, we just stood there, holding each other as if the rest of the world had fallen away. The weight of the race, the disappointment, the frustration, it all seemed to fade away when I was with her.

But I couldn’t hide from the rest of the world forever. As much as I wanted to stay in that quiet moment with her, I knew I had to face the team.

“I have to go” I said quietly, nodding toward the garage after taking a deep breath.

“I know. I’ll wait around, I want to talk with Susie” she gave me a small smile, her fingers tightening around mine before letting go.

Those words meant everything. Knowing she’d be there waiting, that I wasn’t facing all of this alone. It gave me the strength to turn and walk toward the team of engineers and media waiting for me, the usual post-race chaos already waiting for me. 

I moved my shoulders in circles, pushing the disappointment aside as much as I could, ready to face whatever came next.

The debrief was a blur of numbers, data, and what-ifs, just how I predicted. The strategy team was already analyzing every moment, trying to figure out where we had gone wrong. 

The logical part of my brain understood everything they were saying, but the emotional part was still screaming that I should have found a way to make it work, no matter what.

I tried to stay focused, answering questions the interviewers made after the debrief session, offering my perspective, but my mind kept drifting back to Dafne. To her words.

After what felt like hours, the interviews finally came to an end. The engineers packed up their laptops, the garage started to empty, and the noise of the paddock began to quiet down. 

I let out a long breath, running a hand through my sweaty hair. My body felt drained, my muscles aching from the tension of the race. All I wanted now was to get out of here, to leave the track behind for the night.

I walked through the door of the garage that led to the paddock, immediately finding Dafne sitting in one of the tables outside the Ferrari hospitality with her laptop in front of her and a hand rubbing her belly. When she saw me, her face lit up with that smile that made everything else seem like background noise.

I walked over to her, my pace slowing as I got closer. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to see her until this moment. She stood up when I reached her, and without thinking, I pulled her into my arms again, holding her tight.

“You okay?” she whispered against my ear.

“I will be” I whispered back, nodding against her neck.

“Let's get out of here” she smiled, holding my hand.

Waking up next to her always felt like a dream. Looking back in time, I can't believe that now it's normal for us to be in the same bed.

Six months ago I woke up next to her, but the aftermath of it was being shouted at by her and the heel of her shoe hitting the back of my head. But now, that moment was left in the past, and now Dafne is my girlfriend, the mother of my son.

I shifted closer, the warmth of her body radiating through the sheets. My hand slid over her belly, feeling the gentle flutter of kicks beneath her skin.

“Are you awake, Dorian?” I chuckled softly, closing my eyes.

“He's been awake for hours” Dafne groaned, placing her hand on top of mine, making me chuckle.

“Really?” I sighed, moving close to her belly and kissing it softly. “You should let your mom sleep, little one”

She chuckled, moving her hand to my hair and brushing it with her fingers. I looked up at her, pressing kisses on her belly and smiling.

“I already accept that this last trimester I will barely sleep” she sighed. “There are many things we have to do…”

 didn’t need to say anything; I just held her, feeling Dorian’s tiny kicks against my palm, reminding me that everything was about to change.

She sighed and let me place my arm around her, pressing my chest against her back and my chin on her shoulder. This was like a ritual for us, holding each other before the day starts.

“I talked with Susie” she smiled. “We will have a meeting in a few weeks”

“That's amazing, love” I smiled, kissing her neck. 

She smiled and played with the fingers of my hand, taking a deep breath.

“And… Well… The new house subject” she sighed. 

“You want to talk about it?” I whisper. 

“I think we have to talk about it, yeah” she sighed. “We can't wait until the last minute, Charles. At least… We should buy one and have everything ready for when Dorian comes… Right?”

I took a deep breath and sighed. I could see it in her eyes, she was clinging to every last moment with Athena, as if holding on could delay the inevitable. A part of me wished we could move forward, find the house  and prepare for Dorian’s arrival. But how could I ask her to let go, when I wasn’t sure I could do the same if it were me? The veterinarian that sent us the results of the study said that it would happen anytime, because Athena was older than what Dafne thought.

“Okay” I whisper. “Where should we look, hm?”

“Near Maranello?” she whispered, looking back at me. “Somewhere that is close to your job, so you can be close home too”

“Yeah, I was going to say that too… I don't want to be away from home all the time, only when it is inevitable because of the races” I sighed. “But… What if in the future I leave Ferrari?”

“Would you?” She said surprised, making me chuckle and nod.

“I want to win a championship, Dafne” I whisper. “And if I can't do it with Ferrari, then I have to find a better team”

Somehow, saying those words didn't hurt. It felt right. Now this is the future, Dafne and Dorian are my future. I don't have to be loyal to Ferrari anymore, only to myself and my family.

“I will support you with any color you wear” she said. “No matter the team. I'll always wear number sixteen”

“God, I don't know what I did to deserve you” I smiled softly, kissing her shoulder multiple times. “I don't know what I did to deserve your forgiveness and then have your love… Really…”

“Easy, you knocked me up” she joked, making me laugh. “No, Charles… I… We always loved each other , that's all we need to know. And we were too childish to confront the reality”

“Yeah” I nodded. 

She took a deep breath and turned around, slowly as lately, and I helped her. Dafne looked at me with her sleepy smile, placing her hand on my chest. I smiled looking down at her hand, watching the ring she never took off.

“Athena won't make it, you know?” she whispered, breaking the silence. “Last night Erica sent me a text”

“What?” I frowned, worried. “Dafne, why didn't you tell me…”

“I didn't want to worry you, Charles” she sighed. “And somehow, I accepted it already”

“What is happening with her?” I said, holding her hand.

“Erica said Athena stopped eating” she sighed. “And I'm sure she's searching for places to hide…”

“Oh, love” I sighed, hugging her tightly. “Do you want to go back home? And be with her?”

“I… Yeah” she nodded. “I wouldn't forgive myself if I'm not there for her”

“Okay” I sighed, kissing her forehead. “Then we should get ready, okay? Go take a shower while I reserve the jet and pack what's left on our suitcases”

“Thank you, Charlie” she whispered, sitting on the bed and getting out of it and going to the bathroom.

I sighed, biting my lip and grabbing my phone, immediately texting Erica.

Charles: Any news about Athena?

Erica: She told you?

Erica: She's… well, not eating. 

Erica: I'm trying to give her wet food with a spoon, but she refuses to eat

Charles: Fuck… We are going to leave on a few hours 

Erica: Okay, I'll text Soleil so she can go pick you two up 

Charles: Thank you, Eri

Charles: But… What's should I do? For her?

Erica: Just be there for her, please. She might be smiling, but I'm sure she will be crying if you let her be alone for some seconds 

“Fuck” I sighed, leaving the phone on the bed and looking at the bathroom door.

I got up and walked to the door, opening it slightly. My heart broke immediately when I saw her sitting on the toilet, with her phone in her hands while she looked at pictures in her phone.

“Oh, baby” I sighed, opening the door and walking in, kneeling in front of her.

“I’ll miss her,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “She’ll never meet Dorian, Charles.”

“I know, Dafne” I sighed. “I feel bad about it too, but… There's nothing we can do. We tried everything, right? The medicines are not working anymore and we can't keep sending her to the veterinarian, it's too expensive and she's suffering a lot of stress because of it. And I'm not complaining about the money, we have a lot of it, but…”

“But we are spending a lot, I know” she sighed, resting her head against mine. “I just… I wanted to try to make her life a little longer…”

“And we tried, but she's tired, Dafne” I whisper. 

She nodded slowly and wrapped her arms around me, hiding her face on my neck. I smiled weakly, rubbing her back with my hand, trying to calm her.

“We’ll be there,” I whispered. “For Athena. For everything. Together.”

When we landed that day, Soleil came to pick us up at the airport, but she wasn't smiling. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she was yawning all the time.

I knew there was something wrong, and the moment Dafne squeezed my hand tight, I understood what was happening.

As soon as the car rolled to a stop inside the gates, Dafne was already halfway out, her movements rushed and unsteady. She barely waited for the car to be turned off completely before running toward the house, with her breath catching in the air. I followed her close, feeling my heartbeat drumming in my ears. Erica was in the living room, holding a cup of coffee between her hands, warming her palms.

“Where?” Dafne mumbled. 

“This morning she went to the garden” Soleil said behind us. 

I watched as Dafne took a deep, shaky breath, the hand that held her trembling as she placed it on the couch and the other one holding her belly . Her usual strength seemed to come down as she realized what’s coming next. I wanted to comfort her, to follow, but I knew she needed this moment alone, her last moments with Athena.

“How are you?” I asked Erica, sitting next to her.

“Tired… Sad” she sighed. “Athena is so important for Dafne, I don't even want to know how she's feeling right now”

“She's sad too” I sighed. “She wanted her to meet Dorian, that's the only thing she wanted”

“I know” Erica sighed. 

“I think no one was ready for this” I smiled weakly. “I wanted Athena to meet Dorian too. I wanted my son to grow up with her and wanted to take many pictures of them cuddling. I never had a cat while growing up, and I never thought I ever wanted one… But when I met Athena, I loved her immediately”

“Everyone goes through that” Soleil sighed. “I'm glad Dafne brought her home, that she came home with a cat”

“Yeah…” I nodded.

I took a deep breath, looking at the backyard door and sighed, placing my hands on my knees to impulse myself to get up. I walked out towards the garden, finding Dafne sitting on the grass, looking at the flowers that grew there.

“Dafne” I said softly, standing behind her.

“She's…” she mumbled. “Sit next to me, please…”

I sighed, blinking hard to stop the tears from falling. Dafne was holding her cat in her lap, with the crochet jacket she was wearing wrapped around the small weak body of her cat.

“She's still breathing…” she sighed, leaning on me when I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, holding her close.

“She was waiting for you” I whisper, pressing my lips on her temple. 

“Yeah…”

We sat in silence, the garden air still and heavy, as Athena’s tiny body rose and fell slower with each breath. The scent of earth and flowers lingered, but the world felt distant, as if time was standing still.Her once bright blue eyes were looking at us, somehow telling us that everything was going to be okay.

“I think she knew we were waiting for her” she whispered, rubbing her thumb over the pink nose of Athena. “That we were waiting to find a home for us. I think… I think she knew it was her time to leave, huh?”

“Athena was more than amazing, wasn’t she?” I whispered. “She was with you through everything, your shadow, your comfort, your constant. And somehow, I think she knew it was time to let go… she knew you had a new life to care for, but she helped guide you here. Guide you to us…”

“You think so?”

“I do” I whispered. “You took care of her during all this time, taking her to the vet whenever she was sick. I think pets are with us for a reason. I think something, a God or whatever you want to call it, put her in your way to lead you to this moment. To lead you to us, to our baby”

She gasped softly as Athena’s breathing slowed, then stopped. I held her close to me, feeling how her body started to shake with her soft cries while she hugged the cat between us. The tears came, hot and heavy, as I held Dafne close. Athena had been with her for so long, a bridge between the past and this new life we were stepping into. Now, as her breath stopped, it felt like one chapter closed, and another quietly began.

dafnemorelli 

liked by charles_leclerc, ericamorelli, soleil_morelli and 792.579 others

dafnemorelli Ten years ago I was doing voluntary service in a shelter near Florence with the Prema team while recording a challenge. In that place, I met many dogs and cats, but only one of them stole my heart. 

Athena came to my life when I needed her, right after my grandma passed away, and she has been with me since then. She cuddled me when I felt down and always welcomed me home whenever I came home after a race. She was like a daughter to me, and I thank her for everything she did.

People say that pets come and go into our life for a reason. Athena came to my life to help me go through the loss of someone important to me and stayed with me to teach me how to be a mother, how to take care of someone else, animal or human. When Charles came into my life as my lover and we knew about the existence of our son, Athena knew that it was her time to leave, because she knew that I wasn't alone anymore.

My little baby left this world yesterday's evening, and now she's  sleeping finally in peace between the flowers of my garden, her favorite spot in the world. Charles and I are immensely sad because of this, but we know that she will be with us, taking care of us and our baby.

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charles_leclerc

liked by dafnemorelli, arthur_lecler, violetsinclair and 829.461 others

charles_leclerc This morning, after what happened yesterday, we made a small grave in the backyard for the most amazing cat I ever met. After that, I went to the city because I wanted to give Dafne a small gift.

I told Dafne I was going to a meeting in Maranello, and since her sisters were at home too, I knew she would be in good hands. So, with that, I grabbed the keys of my car and drove to Florence. At night, I was searching for a place to get the gift, and when I found it, I knew I had to go.

I cut some hairs from Athena and saved them in a little bag, keeping it in my wallet. And now those hairs are inside of the necklace I bought her, to keep Athena close to Dafne's heart.

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[laura1633]

So so so obsessed with the idea of a reverse teams au (i.e Max for Ferrari, Charles for Red Bull) where Max still wins championships with Ferrari and people call him the next Michael Schumacher and they praise him for bringing glory back to the prancing horse and he just. Doesn't care. He doesn't care for the fanfare that comes with driving for Ferrari, he doesn't care for the biblical implications of it, he just shows up, he drives, he wins, but he never indulges the Tifosi and does the bare minimum for PR. He knows approximately three phrases in Italian and at least one of them is definitely not suited for public broadcast. The Tifosi fucking hate him but they love him at the same time because he wins three championships in a row. he wins and he wins and he wins. and then there's Charles in the red bull who still carries a biblical amount of lore with him, who adores his fans and is still ever suffering at the hands of a difficult car. They call him "The Bull Wrangler" or "El Matador" because the car is a beast, a tough one too that his teammate could never get ahold of but he still manages to tame it and drag it onto podiums to stand next to Max. They call Max "Il Predestinato" instead, bringing him up to Ferrari by the age of 18 just the same, and although everything is different it's still the same because in every universe Charles is an ever suffering martyr and max is a champion. and in every universe they fuck. really tried to keep this semi-serious but I needed that last part for comedic effect

(sorry this is really random and idk if this is the place for this but I don't really write and I needed a place to info dump about my Ideas™. hope u enjoy!)

This is definitely the place to share, I always love hearing about people's fic ideas 😍

Love the idea of an alternative universe but it all still be strangely familiar. Max at Ferrari and Charles at Red Bull, I would definitely read something like that. Would Charles have GP as an engineer? and Max have Xavi in 2022/2023?? I would love to hear how that would play out 😂 There are so many interesting dynamics to explore by just switching the teams!!

I know this totally wasn't the intention so sorry for adding a different dimension but could you imagine if its an alt universe that Charles happens to wake up into and he has to see Max bringing glory to Ferrari which was always his dream!! I don't know how he would cope with that!!

They definitely fuck though ... in every single universe haha

Thank you so much for sharing <3

[loquarocoeur]

Its been a fucking day of glorious returns

Max the champion, Charles the menace, Alex the legend

I do think I actually went a bit mad while you were away, but maybe that’s just the lasting effects of this season. Near the end there I was quite literally two breathes away from going “fuck it” and driving to Las Vegas at any moment. Didn’t realize harassing you was such an outlet for my impulsivity—go figure

Also I missed all the signed anons. hi guys nice to see you again. I feel like we are proximity friends. I missed watching you relentlessly torture Alex until they finally snap and torture us all much worse. Glad to have you back on the job 💪

Also. Hi Alex :)

Is there anything you are wishing for in the next two races to finish out this fucking beast of a season on an even crazier note?

- ⭐️🥣

I fear it may be becoming a problem that I do eventually always give into the torture and say something back that is even worse than the original question... I think the signed anons are the tamer ones though, it's the unsigned ones who get very brave some days👀

I need a lestappen 1-2 and I need some more swearing on the radio and also I need the FIA to simply explode or otherwise dedicate a heartfelt apology to the entire grid and also answer their damn mail

[honey-minded-hivemind]

⚔Wouldn't You Like🏛 AU, The Gods of Genosha, Krakoa, and the Human Kingdoms:

Charles Xavier/Cerebro: one of the kings of the gods, is the god of the mind and learning, can control minds, influence thoughts, heal inner pain, cause hallucinations, and puppeteer others; has a moving throne of metal and stardust; sometimes wears a helmet with an X on it; is married to Erik/Magneto, the other king of the gods; his symbols include: twined branches, mourning doves, ravens, and peridots, jades, and emeralds...

Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto: the other king of the gods, is the god of metals and justice, can control any metal, make anything from metal, is immune to certain powers, can manipulate iron in the blood, and uses metal to summon or throw lightning; has a helm of metal, a cape of silver, and usually his face is unseen; is married to Charles/Cerebro, one of the kings of the gods; his symbols include: shields, helmets, crossed spears, eagles, and titanium, iron, and silver...

Ororo Munroe/Storm: is the goddess of all weather as well as motherhood, can summon any kind of storm (snow, sand, thunder, etc.), can control lightning and the winds, can make the sun shine or make it rain; has a cape/cloak of clouds, hair of mists, and fastenings of gold; her symbols include: clouds, raindrops, lightning bolts, cranes, and blue/yellow topaz, aquamarine, and diamond

Raven Darkholme/Mystique: goddess of trickery, deceit, and secrets, can turn into any person or animal, is able to spy in any form, and is the wife of the minor goddess Destiny, who sees the future; appears naked, but is always blue, wears a belt and loincloth of white or black silk, sometimes a top of white or black; her symbols include: blue snakes, blue moons and stars, tragedy/comedy masks, and sapphires and garnets...

Logan Howlett/Wolverine: god of the wilderness and protection, as well as small woodland predators (ex. wolverines, badgers, foxes, wolves, coyotes, etc.), can go into a berserker mode, has six sharp, gleaming claws of poisonous metal, can take on an army of hundreds of soldiers, can bring out the protective side of others, can make a person become like an animal; wears a jacket or coat of brown leather, and pants or a loincloth of faded blue or black; is the brother of the older (and dual) god of nature and the wild, Victor/Sabretooth; his symbols include crossed claws or swords, badgers and wolverines, and howlite, hawk's eye, and jasper

Victor Creed/Sabretooth: dual god of nature and the hunt, as well as large predators (ex. smilodons, tigers, lions, bears, etc.), can fall into berserker mode, lives by his instincts, can drive men into insane rage/bloodlust, can destroy an entire kingdom barehanded, is also a god of protection; is the older brother of Logan/Wolverine, the autumn side of nature to his winter; wears large furred coats and jackets, or loincloth of golden or brown; his symbols include: tigers, lions, fanged skulls, curved, clawed footprints, and tiger's eye, amber, and gold + pyrite...

Hank McCoy/Beast: god of science, teaching, medicine, and literature, possess great strength of body and mind, knows the secrets of medicine, has scrolls and stone tablets of ancient texts, has taught medicine and shared written language with kingdoms past, and is both a lover and a fighter; is fluffy and dark blue/indigo, has little need for cloths, but will wear dark blue/black pants or cloths; his symbols include: gorillas, lions, scrolls, quills, medicinal herbs, and labradorite, obsidian, and turquoise...

Kevin Sydney/Morph: deity of cunning, mirth and merriment, comedy and tragedy, and change, can take any form and any power, can cause madness, is a master trickster, tends to help down-on-their-luck mortals; is a good friend of Logan/Wolverine; wears a cloth/toga, can be naked or covered in a jacket or clothes, usually in shades of brown, yellow, or blue; their symbols include: chameleons, vipers, butterflies/moths, caterpillars, masks, and opals, color-changing sapphires/garnets, and pearls

(They all had once trained and given a gift/blessing (a mutation) to Reader, but after The Fight, they rarely speak of them... no one can ever speak ill of Reader in their presence or where they can hear, lest they earn the wrath of any of them... they try to be better mentors (read: parents) to the new demigods...)

[blahblahbih]

Instant Baku recap 🎙️

Ahem ahem

Let’s fucking goooooooooo 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Oscar 100% deserved that omg he drove brilliantly and kept Charles behind like a beast, so so happy for my baby, no teammate drama, no getting overshadowed by mclaren mess ups 💪💪

Lando Norris that man you are going from 15th to 4th, overtaking max on raw performance (yes max was struggling we’ll get to that in a sec, not letting the pressure get to him, not letting the bad quali get to his head, that’s by babyyy

George once again with a surprise podium, man is always at the scene of the crime (bro got his wish because didn’t he say best case scenario the top 4 crash and we win)

Charles driving BEAUTIFULLY omg I was on the edge of my seat jumping up and down

I’m so sad for checo, he was finally getting his form back and at his fav circuit too

The three way battle with Carlos like get in there baby but also noooooooooo

Shout out to colapinto Williams actually pulling through

My poor Yuki got stabbed in the side

The way the sun was shining and turning the track WHITE like how could they see????

Maxie….. Maxie Maxie Maxie, no one talk to me I’m sad. Why is he struggling so much ??? What is wrong with the car someone come fix it

Over all a great day to be a papaya fan 🧡💪🧡

***** omg edit

Ollie scored a point 🤍🤍🤍 let’s gooooo

[lightsonparkave]

As we enter the season of the dead, some things linger, continuing to live on or at least not quite die.

The theme for Lights on Park Ave Round 55 is the undying.

Here are the prompts:

Tim struggles with his love for Hawk before accepting it after realizing over the decades that he's always had Hawk from Fellow Travelers

A quote about loss teaching us the permanence of love from A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

A line from “Disjecta Membra” by Charles Wright about the inability to speak about someone

An excerpt from Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel where the narrator talks about movies immortalizing not just the stars but the actors with small roles as well

Advice on having a physicist speak at your funeral by Aaron Freeman

Lestat asks Louis to be his eternal companion and Louis agrees in AMC's Interview With the Vampire

A Youtube comment by someone who attended Simon & Garfunkel's 1981 Central Park concert who thinks about how he and his now deceased wife are together in the recording

"Thriller" - Michael Jackson

A scene where Steve talks about what a ghost actually is from The Haunting of Hill House

A quote from Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk about the never-ending nature of anger and sorrow

Kimiko comes back to life after dying due to her regenerative healing power as an astounded Frenchie watches in The Boys

The government makes a public announcement lying to civilians about a zombie outbreak in Train to Busan

Lines from "The Third Hour of the Night" by Frank Bidart about the insatiable thirst of the beast inside you

Grace encounters an old woman wearing her daughter Anne's communion dress who speaks in Anne's voice and claims she's Anne in Alejandro Amenábar's The Others

Will tells Lyra he'll love her forever and wander after death until he can find her again in The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman

Adam comforts a distraught Harry who finds out he died in Andrew Haigh's All of Us Strangers

Untitled poem by Marina Tsvetaeva from The Stray Dog Cabaret

Photos of Robbie and Cecilia and Briony's reason for making the two live happily ever after in Joe Wright's Atonement

Round 55 will end on October 31, 11:59 PM ET (what time is that for me?).

As always, you’re free to jump in whenever you’d like during the round, a wide variety of work types is accepted, and there are no minimum work requirements. Unfinished works and works for other fandom events are allowed. You can find more information about Lights on Park Ave and the participation guidelines here.

[charles-leclerc-official]

!! here (if it fits):

first of all, he’s the living proof of that dream all little kids who are obsessed with formula 1 and ferrari have: that one day, if they work hard enough and have enough luck, they too can become a ferrari driver. he’s never been shy about how much he’s always loved ferrari, how much it means to him and more especially to his family that he is driving for the team. he made his way up through the ranks, through ferrari’s driver academy - the first fda driver that has signed with the team, he is the literal manifestation of that dream.

he’s also insane about racing, kimi raikkonen style. i’ve heard it said that kimi was the best driver behind a wheel that many had seen, and the only reason he kind of dropped off going into later seasons as set up and sims and driving configurations became more and more complex and important is because he would get 100%, 110% out of whatever car the mechanics put in front of him, but he was not so good at predicting how best the car needed to be set up for the race - he’d outperform the car every time, but as the sport moved away from purely turning the wheel, braking, accelerating and choosing the best line, the switches suited his driving style less and less.

charles, to me, has the exact same attitude towards racing that kimi did, in that he’s insane enough about the racing itself that he’ll go on and on for as long as the sport will have him. whereas lewis and fernando can be reasonably expected to retire once they get another wdc, whereas max seems deadly serious about only racing for another four-ish years, charles seems to me like he’ll go down kimi’s route - he’ll keep racing until the teams drop him, or until he physically can’t keep up anymore.

i think perhaps that’s why ferrari and the tifosi are so incredibly insane about him? because on a purely spiritual level he bleeds motor oil in racing red, he lives and breathes rosso corsa because ferrari is, more than any other team, the heart and soul of formula one.

he also embodies the spirit of of ferrari more than any other driver on the grid right now - he’s sacrificed, lost so much for this sport and because of this sport, and how does that quote about enzo ferrari go? that he loved his drivers as his sons, yet sent them out to face death in a metal shell. ferrari is this feral beast of desperate love, desperate hope and animal self preservation - it loves it’s drivers so much, it does anything for them to win, and yet will rip them apart and cast them aside for another who it believes can bring them victory. it puts the hopes and dreams of a nation, the decades of prestigious history and endless past victory on the shoulders of it’s drivers, and waits to see if they’ll sink or swim. in that regard, charles was ferrari from the minute he arrived in formula one, fresh from past victories and past loss during formula two - it seems a sick confirmation of that that he won his first race in the shadow of his friends death, and won again in the home of his beloved team. loss and victory, in equal measure.

Forza Ferrari, Forza Charles, Forza Ferrari Sempre!

[withacapitalp]

Dear You Pt 2

Part One Link to ao3

As per usual thank you to @hbyrde36 for betaing and @artbean for giving me the best idea everrrrr I love this chapter so much

Back in Black

Ride the Lightning

A few originals? Maybe the new one Jeff is writing?

Back in Black

Ride the Lightning  Run to the Hills

A few originals? Maybe the new one Jeff is writing?

Back in Black       Start with the originals

Ride the Lightning  Run to the Hills  Back in Black 

A few originals? Maybe the new one Jeff is writing? Crazy

Eddie growled in disgust, burying one hand in his hair and pulling as he savagely dragged his pen over the complete failure of a set list, hiding his frustrations under a thick layer of dark black ink. When that wasn’t enough to satisfy the angry beast in his chest, he ripped the page out of his notebook entirely, balling it up and throwing it across the clearing, leaving behind a jagged ripped up strip of paper that stuck out, awkward and grating on his nerves.

The second the paper hit the ground Eddie felt the anger begin to leak out of him, leaving behind a hollow place at the bottom of his stomach, and the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes. 

Wayne had once told him that his anger was like a summer squall- it started as just a few drops, picked up in intensity until it was everywhere, whirled around like a tornado for a few moments, and then disappeared just as quickly as it had come. 

His uncle had said it like a good thing, as if Eddie’s inability to hold onto anger said something about him. What it said, Eddie wasn’t exactly sure, all he knew was right now he kind of wished he could stay angry for just a little while longer. 

With a short quiet sigh, Eddie hauled himself up, walking to the other side of the clearing and grabbing the crumpled up paper, tossing it idly to himself as he walked back towards the picnic table, his mind fuzzy and distracted as he thought about everything that had happened today to cause this little meltdown. 

It wasn’t like today was the worst day he had ever gone through, but it was still pretty frickin bad. The transmission on his van was starting to go out for like the fiftieth time this month alone, stupid Mrs. Clickity-Clack had accused him of cheating just because he wrote a good essay, and the cafeteria had served up Tuna Surprise for lunch. All things that would sour his mood on their own, but the worst thing had happened just as the final bell rang. 

On the extremely short walk from their lockers to the parking lot, some freshman basketball idiots who weren’t aware of the rules decided to try and cause problems for Gareth. As a rule the jocks knew to stay all bark and no bite when it came to Hellfire, or they would have to drive all the way to Plainfield to buy their weed, but apparently Carver and his cronies hadn’t initiated these two dumbasses yet. Eddie had been forced to step in just as the principal walked by and of course Higgins took their side. 

Of course. 

After a lengthy and frankly ridiculous speech about Eddie needing to apply himself, Higgins had sighed and handed over a detention slip. All of that would have been just another Tuesday, but the underhanded comment he had made as Eddie stormed out of his office was the thing that had really twisted the knife. 

It’s pointless to try and get you to be a normal boy, Mr. Munson. No matter what I do, you’ll always be your father’s son.

“My father’s son,” Eddie scoffed, bitterness flooding his mouth and pouring from every pore, “Better Al Munson, than Charlie Higgins. As if I’d want to end up like that pompous, arrogant, small minded prick.” 

A vicious delight spread through his body and Eddie chuckled to himself, taking a big step to stand on top of one of the benches, straightening himself up and turning his nose high in the air. 

“Edward Munson, you simply must learn to apply yourself,” He said in an over the top British accent, staring down his nose at the invisible Eddie below, “I, Principal Charles Higgins, have told you time and time again that these… asinine hobbies of yours are only going to lead you astray. Be more normal! How else will you learn to be a perfect cog in the machine?” 

“But- but- but- Mr. Higgins!” Eddie stammered out, jumping down and falling to one knee, clasping his hands and staring up into the trees, “I just want to play a game with my friends and sing in a band? What’s so wrong with that?” 

Nothing. The answer was nothing. There was nothing wrong with who Eddie wanted to be, and that person sure as hell was not his father. 

“Fuck that,” Eddie ground out, taking a running leap to the top of the picnic table and staring out in the trees, “You think you’re the first person to try and change me?! HA! Fuck Normal!” 

The forest, as always, did not answer him back. Eddie was alone, nothing but the wind through the leaves and an aching longing to be understood gnawing away at his heart. 

Alone. 

Where the hell was Byers?!

Eddie was used to having to wait, because while he didn’t really care that everyone saw him stroll into the woods behind the football field every day to do deals, his clientele usually wanted a little more subtlety. But the longest it had ever taken someone to walk into the clearing was twenty minutes, and it had been at least a half hour. 

He turned to face the direction of the school watching and waiting as if he would magically hear the sound of footsteps crashing through the woods in his direction. 

Birds. Wind. Nothing to indicate a loner senior was slinking up to make a deal. 

“Maybe he got detention,” He said to himself, the excuses coming out frail and thin as he plopped down in his seat again, fiddling with the handle of his lunch box of goodies, “Or his siblings needed something and he had to take care of that, or he picked up an extra shift or he just forgot.”

Or maybe…

Or maybe Jonathan actually wasn’t coming at all. 

Eddie’s expression soured and his mouth thinned to a tight line as the thought began to take root and bloom into poisonous red flowers. 

That had to be it. Harrington had been jerking his chain, coming up with some big story to get Eddie sitting out here on his ass for no good reason. His numbskull friends were probably keying his van right now, slashing the tires up, having a real good laugh at the freak. 

And he really only had himself to blame. He knew that Harrington was no good, and he had let those kids make him think differently. Well, this is what happened. This is what he got for thinking people could change. 

“Stupid jackass with his stupid hair and his stupid kids,” Eddie muttered in disgust, slamming the lid of his lunchbox closed and locking it with an equally harsh movement, “Gonna key his Beemer, slash his stupid perfect tires and wipe that stupid smug look off his stupid-”

“Are you okay?” 

Eddie screamed. 

Not a manly shocked yell or a little shout. He full on girl-in-a-horror-movie-about-to-get-eaten-by-a-werewolf shrieked. Jonathan let out his own scream, taking a few steps back and putting his hands out in front of him, staring at Eddie with wide eyes. 

After a beat of silence Eddie broke out into giggles, leaning against the picnic table as he tried to pull himself back together. 

“Guess I scared you?” Jonathan asked, his shoulders relaxing as a tiny smile graced his lips. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Eddie said, still laughing. It was just too ridiculous. Him, Eddie Munson, getting scared by Byers of all people. 

“And I thought I was the one who was gonna be nervous,” Jonathan replied, jamming his hands into his pockets and hiking his shoulders up. A classic awkward Jonathan Byers move that settled out any last bad feelings Eddie was having. 

He didn’t know Jonathan, not beyond sharing a few classes and the occasional stint in detention, but Will and Jane had become some of his favorite people in a short time, and they had given Eddie enough descriptions that he had a pretty good idea of who Jonathan was. 

“No need to fret,” Eddie said, making a wide sweeping arc with one arm towards the picnic table, “Step into my office, taste my wares,” 

Jonathan crept closer, each step taking much longer than it should have. It was like watching a stray dog walk towards a treat- hungry, but still unsure if the hand was going to feed or hurt. 

“Thanks for this,” Jonathan said absentmindedly, looking around the clearing with his shoulders still tight around his ears. 

“No need to thank me, this is a business transaction,” Eddie shot back, opening his lunchbox back up and getting into Professional Drug Dealer Mode. 

Doing deals was part sales, part psychology. It was easier to get the job done if he made himself what the other person needed him to be. Some people wanted a buddy, someone to joke around with as they purchased their pills, others wanted not a word between them, the shame of needing an illegal substance to get through the day was too much to bear. 

Eddie would bet that Jonathan, like most first-timers, would be easiest to work with if Eddie gave him the basic rundown of how this worked. 

“Cash only, no receipts. You give me what I need, I give you what you need,” Eddie rattled off as Jonathan sat, pointing first at himself, and then at Byers and then smiling wide, “Everyone walks away happy.” 

“It’s thirty, right?” Jonathan asked, pulling out his wallet. 

“Fifteen,” Eddie corrected. Byers paused, raising a brow, and Eddie snorted, continuing to snicker as he explained. 

“I charge Harrington asshole tax which usually means it’s thirty for a half ounce, and it’s twenty for everyone else,” 

Eddie watched with a smirk as Jonathan mouthed the words ‘asshole tax’ to himself while shaking his head. He pulled a twenty out, handing it over and taking the five Eddie gave him in exchange. 

“So why are you charging me fifteen?” Jonathan asked, obviously suspicious. It was almost cute, how hesitant he was. Eddie was instantly reminded of how Will had acted the first time they met. Another stray, but this one a puppy. On guard, but somehow willing to hear him out. He must’ve learned that from his brother. 

“Cause you get the friends and family discount, Elder Byers. Besides, given how much weed Steve was buying from me I have a feeling you are going to become my number one customer soon,” Eddie said with jazz hands, holding out the baggie with a flourish. 

This was where they ended. Jonathan would take his bag and go, Eddie would pack up, and they would part ways. They would not make eye contact in the hallways, and that suited Eddie just fine. It wasn’t like drug dealing was his ultimate career goal or anything. He did it to keep the lights in the trailer on and keep his uncle from working himself to an early grave, and he didn’t need to act like he was some big wheeler dealer that ran Hawkins. 

Did he know pretty much everyone’s dirty secrets? Yeah, but that was just because Rick was back in prison and that meant Eddie was the only person in town you could get cocaine from. He didn’t have any power beyond charging some people more than others for their dickish tendencies. He played his part when he had to, and this was a moment where he had to. 

Only…Jonathan was not playing his predestined role. 

“What is that?” Jonathan asked, tilting his head ever so slightly as he stared at the full baggie with wide eyes. 

“MJ?” Eddie said slowly, wondering if it was a hypothetical. Rather than lighting up in recognition, Jonathan’s brow furrowed even further, turning his eyes from the bag to Eddie. 

“Mary Jane? Also known as grass, skunk, pot, dope, reefer, herb, and its Christian name of Cannabis Sativa.” Eddie continued, lowering his voice to a whisper and extending the baggie again, hoping that a little dramatic flair might get Byers to stop acting so damn weird. 

Jonathan only looked even more hopelessly lost, and now Eddie was starting to get uncomfortable. It made absolutely zero sense for Jonathan to be acting so weird, and Eddie was only just now starting to remember that Jonathan’s mom had been doing some weird will they/won't they with Hopper for the last few years. 

Was this some sort of ploy? Was Jonathan wearing a wire or some shit? Powell had tried to come around to put a stop to Eddie’s ‘business’. Eddie had sent him off with a laugh, seeing as half of Powell’s department were some of his top regulars, but the guy seemed desperate to prove that he could be just as good of a chief as Hop was. 

Maybe he had somehow gotten Harrington and Byers to work with him to get Eddie arrested? 

No. That made no sense. Eddie was being paranoid. Jonathan was just acting completely out of it for some normal reason that he couldn’t fathom. 

Yeah. Because that made more sense. 

Every instinct in Eddie was telling him to run, take his lunch box and book it and never even think about going near any of the Byers again. 

But…

But he knew Will and he knew Jane, and he couldn’t ever see the big brother they described pulling a move like this. Threatening Eddie to stay away from his little siblings, sure, but not a snake move like trying to get him thrown in jail. 

“It’s weed, Byers. Supposedly you’ve been smoking a shit ton of it since August.” Eddie said, taking the leap and hoping that he wasn’t about to get the silver bracelets slapped on his wrists. 

“Oh! Um, Steve just always gives me cigarettes,” Jonathan mumbled, blushing and looking down at the picnic table. 

Not a sting then. Just a delightfully naive Jonathan Byers. 

“Did you just call a joint a cigarette?” Eddie asked, biting the inside of his lip as the nerves washed away. The mirth that Eddie couldn’t completely hide in his tone only made Jonathan shrink even more, so Eddie forced himself to sober up. 

A guy like Jonathan would not take being laughed at well. Eddie was sure of that much.

“I don’t do pre-rolls, sorry. But for an extra fiver, I’ll give you rolling papers or a shitty bong I have in the back of my car,” Eddie offered, having to keep from laughing as he thought about Jonathan trying to figure out how to use a bong on his own. Given how clueless he seemed to be, there was a very likely chance that Jonathan would end up burning himself more than the weed. 

“Maybe we should just forget it then,” Jonathan murmured, already sliding his body back away from Eddie and the weed. 

Normally, Eddie wouldn’t care. Baggie back in the lunchbox, whatever, see you next tuesday. He wasn’t a charity, and this wasn’t a favor between friends. He was a businessman first and foremost. 

But Steve’s words were echoing in his mind, combining with Jonathan’s kicked puppy dog demeanor to form a deadly weapon against Eddie’s far too vulnerable emotions.  

“Curse my bleeding heart.” Eddie groaned, unsure of when he had become such a softie, “Fine, I’ll show you how to roll, but I’m taking that extra five for doing this for you,” 

Jonathan sighed in relief, immediately handing back Eddie’s five dollars and giving him a soft grateful smile that almost made the extra work worth the trouble. An unexpected stab shot through Eddie’s chest because of that little smile, and he pushed it down far where it couldn’t bother him, rooting around in his box for the things he needed and making himself look more busy than he was. 

“You better be watching closely, Byers, I’m not doing this for you next time,” Eddie warned, wagging a finger at Jonathan as he pulled out the supplies he would need. Luckily for the other boy, Eddie always carried rolling papers on him. 

Truthfully, Eddie didn’t mind rolling joints. He didn’t want to become a housewife to the idiots on the basketball team who couldn’t be bothered to do their own dirty work, but that wasn’t what was happening here. Besides, rolling a joint had a meditative joy to it in some ways. Like painting a mini-figure or designing a tattoo, there was a calm delight in the act of creating something small but special. 

“Am I allowed to thank you for this?” Jonathan asked with his normal amount of dry wit. 

“Well, flattery works on me so yeah, you can thank me,” Eddie replied, looking up briefly from the paper he was lying flat and wagging his eyebrows before getting back to the task at hand, “And you can answer my questions.” 

“I thought I was paying you an extra five dollars,” Jonathan countered, sitting back and crossing his arms. 

“Five dollars,” Eddie agreed, placing the filter and crumbling the dried flower between his thumb and forefinger oh so carefully, ensuring that the line of marijuana was perfectly equal all across the paper, “And answers. I get paid in knowledge first, dear Elder Byers.” 

“What exactly do you want to know?” Jonathan asked, his expression carefully blank. 

“When did Harrington introduce you to our dear Aunt Mary?” Eddie asked, holding up the bag just so he didn’t confuse Jonathan again. 

“Oh Steve didn’t- I mean I knew he knew you so I asked him to buy for me, but he’s not like my- we’re not-” Jonathan stammered, his ears turning red as he tried to flounder for an explanation. 

“Easy Byers. I didn’t think you turned our precious little King queer,” Eddie laughed, carefully tucking one side of the papers underneath the line. 

That was the way Rick had taught him many many years ago. Filter, flower, tuck it into bed, and then you roll. Apparently it was just like swaddling a baby. 

“You know you can just call me Jonathan, right?” Byers pointed out, still fiddling with his fingers. 

“Alright then, Jonathan,” Eddie agreed, slowly saying the other boy’s name, letting the word acquaint itself with his mouth and feeling it out. It felt good, at least it felt more right than his last name. “I guess I’m just a little confused as to why you and Harrington are suddenly best buddies. Last I heard that little girlfriend of yours skipped straight from his arms to yours.”

Wrong thing to mention. It was like Eddie could feel the misstep, almost able to hear the broken twig that had alerted his prey to his presence, and now they were both on alert.

“That was complicated,” Jonathan immediately snapped before blowing all of his breath out in one big gust, placing his palms flat on the picnic table and letting his eyes slip shut, “But Nancy and I broke up anyways so…”

Jonathan and Nancy had broken up a little less than a month ago. They had done their best to have a very low-key break up, not even telling their siblings at the start, all in an effort to make sure that it didn’t become gossip for everyone to chew on. 

So naturally the entire school knew by the end of that first week. 

“Oh wow I uh I didn’t-” Eddie tried, cutting his little charade off when Jonathan shot him a look and readjusting his approach.

“I knew. Like five different people told me,” Eddie admitted, licking the stripe of the glue and sealing the first joint, setting it aside before he realized Jonathan was still staring at him. “Sorry, by the way. I bet that wasn’t easy?” 

“It’s fine. We’re better off as friends,” Jonathan shrugged, acting far too casual for a guy who had just broken up with a girl that he had been dating for over a year. A girl that, by all accounts, he had very much loved. 

A girl he still spent all of his time with. 

“What happened?” 

“We just weren’t right for each other,” Jonathan answered, obviously toeing the party line. 

That was the reason Eddie had heard over and over from Will and Mike and Jane- that they just weren’t right for each other. There was a mountain of rumors that had cropped up from the Hawkins High Gossip Mongers, of course. People who thought she had left him to go back to Steve, some who assumed Nancy had cheated again with someone new, one person was convinced it was because the college she wanted to attend didn’t allow boyfriends, even a few wild loonies who thought that they had had ended it because of an unplanned pregnancy. 

But, rather than offer up any of those rumors as explanations, Eddie hummed and waited, watching Jonathan and wondering how long it would take him to break. 

Not very long it turned out. 

“She doesn’t have to worry about anything, you know?” Jonathan said after only half a minute of patient waiting. 

Bingo. 

Eddie hummed again, readying the next joint as Jonathan slid out of his seat to pace around the clearing and rant.

“Everything always works out exactly like she wants it to. Everything! She doesn’t have to think about the things I think about. She doesn’t have to worry about the bills, or her brother, or anything except for what she wants. And anytime I reminded her that I have to worry about more than myself, she acted like I wanted her to feel sorry for me, when that was never what I wanted. Ever.” 

Whatever Eddie had expected, it certainly wasn’t that. He wasn’t sure he had ever heard Jonathan talk so much in one sitting, but he wasn’t going to interrupt the other boy. It was obvious that Jonathan hadn’t really talked to anyone about this yet, and he definitely needed to get it off of his chest. 

Eddie was being given something precious here, and even though he didn’t really understand why, he wasn’t going to ruin it. 

“And when she finally ended it, it was just this huge…relief. Like I could finally stop pretending to be something I wasn’t.” Jonathan concluded, his shoulders loosening as he tipped his head back towards the treetops for a second before turning towards Eddie, a challenge in his eyes. 

“That’s a lot,” Eddie said, immediately wincing at how dumb that statement was, “I mean… maybe you could use some extra space from her?” 

“Extra space?” Jonathan asked, walking back towards the table. 

“Come sit with us at lunch instead of eating with her in the- um- newspaper dungeon,” Eddie blurted out, the offer escaping his mouth before he had even really thought about it. Once he had said it though, it didn’t sound like a bad idea, “I mean, your brother and his friends already do and-”

“No thanks,” Jonathan said, immediately cutting Eddie off as he sat back down. 

He wanted to pretend it didn’t, but it hurt. 

Eddie was very very used to rejection, but it always cut him down to the quick anyway. He knew how the world saw him. Trailer park trash, metal head, satanist, drug dealing, Eddie Munson. He wasn’t a person to them, not really. They didn’t care about trying to figure out who he was beyond what they expected. 

Eddie had stupidly assumed Jonathan to be different. After that entire speech, he had thought Jonathan could understand. 

“I just want to let Will have his own thing, you know?” Jonathan said, cutting Eddie’s thoughts right in half. 

Oh. 

This was about Will? 

“He’s- it’s hard for him. With everything that happened, everyone has this idea of who he is too, and it’s been good for him to have Hellfire,” Jonathan continued, completely unaware of the circles Eddie’s head was spinning in, “You’ve been good for him.” 

Eddie had been called a lot of things in his life, but the last person that had told him he was good was his mother. Even Wayne, for all the ways he built Eddie up, had never thought to call him good.

“And his friends are great- they’re amazing, actually- but it’s been really nice for him to have something…” Jonathan’s eyes darted around as he trailed off, looking for the right word. Then he stopped, laughing quietly and shaking his head.

“What?” Eddie asked, unable to keep himself from catching Jonathan’s smile. 

“Normal,” Jonathan said, still chuckling, “You guys give him something normal.”

Normal?! 

Eddie scoffed in disbelief, following Jonathan as they both laughed about the ridiculousness of Eddie being normal. 

“I’m sorry. I really couldn’t think of a better word,” Jonathan tried to say when he finally put himself back together, “I know you have a uh- thing- about that one.” 

Eddie’s cheeks immediately lit on fire as he took in the connotation of Jonathan’s words. 

“Before when I was…did you…” Eddie asked, unable to say the words and hoping he was wrong. Unfortunately for him, Jonathan was already nodding, having the decency to at least look slightly contrite as he watched Eddie die of embarrassment. 

“Yeah. The whole thing.” He admitted. Eddie let out a deranged sound, covering his face with his hands and tipping to the side, curling up on the bench and grumbling to himself in completely unintelligible words. 

How fucking humiliating. 

Eddie was the guy who gave huge speeches about conformity on the regular, jumping up on tables and making a spectacle of himself, but that was when he knew people were watching. He knew he was putting on a show, and that was fine. Having his own internal crisis shown off when he wasn’t expecting it was completely different, especially when it was to someone who didn’t know him all that well. 

“Hey I get it. I mean, Higgins can be a total asshole,” Jonathan offered, trying to pull Eddie out of his shame spiral.

“Preachin’ to the choir,” Eddie muttered, hauling himself back up to a sitting position and avoiding making eye contact. 

He would just finish rolling out this second joint and send Jonathan packing, regardless of the fact that he had barely used a quarter of the bag. The last thing he needed was someone mocking him for what he said when he thought he was alone. 

“You’re right, though,” Jonathan said out of the blue, startling Eddie into raising his head, “You shouldn’t change. You’re fine the way you are,” 

Huh.

“You think so?” Eddie asked softly, shocking himself with how genuine that question came out. He had never really considered himself a self conscious person, there was no way a boy like him would have survived in a place like Hawkins if he was, but the fleshy vulnerable parts of his heart had already been hurt today, and hearing someone else think he was just fine the way he was…

It was doing things Eddie hadn’t expected he would ever need. 

“Yeah, I mean you’re not the same as everyone else, but everyone else sucks.” Jonathan shrugged, waving a hand back towards where the school was, “I mean you took Will and the guys in. And El too- oh shit. Jane, I mean. She says you guys are really nice to her and explain stuff, which I really appreciate. She’s…”

Jonathan didn’t say it, but Eddie already knew well enough what he was referring to. 

“I know that our little mage is dealing with some hostility from her peers,” Eddie said, placing the second joint next to the first and grabbing another paper. 

Eddie had no idea where Jane had come from, but it was obvious from even a minute long conversation that she was different. Sweet, so so sweet, but different in a way that would make high school almost an impossible task to accomplish. The boys flanked her like a protective detail, and her best friend was a firecracker that even Eddie wouldn’t want to cross, but they could only do so much. 

“She’s been through worse,” Jonathan said vaguely, his brow furrowing as he thought about it, “I just wish it was easier for her, but she has Max and the rest of them so,”

“And Hellfire,” Eddie added. Jonathan looked up at him with a far too grateful smile. 

“And Hellfire,” Jonathan repeated. 

“So, I’m not the mean, scary, drug dealing, satanist you thought I’d be?” Eddie asked, wetting his lips before he sealed the third joint closed. The question had been mostly a joke, but Jonathan shook his head anyway. 

“Not even a little bit.” 

“That’s disappointing. I was kind of looking forward to scaring local creep, Jonathan Byers,” Eddie said, heaving a huge dramatic sigh, putting his elbows on the picnic table and plopping his face into his hands. Jonathan copied the motion, linking his fingers and resting his chin on top of them. 

“I’ve gotta tell ya it’s a little hard to be scared of the guy that slipped on spaghetti sauce and wiped out in the middle of his latest speech on conformity and The Man,” Jonathan said, leaning forward and whispering the words in a way that sent an unexpected shiver down Eddie’s spine. 

“Oh, fuck you,” Eddie laughed, leaning back and breaking the moment, a blush returning as he threw the baggie back in his lunchbox and shut it, holding out the twenty and the joints out to Jonathan, “Here, take your spoils and leave, weary traveler. My shop is closed.” 

“But-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie said, flapping one hand as he pressed the money and drugs into Jonathan’s hand, his heart humming in his chest in an unfamiliar way, “I only gave you three joints anyway, and you’ll be back on Friday anyway, right?” 

Jonathan looked between the money and Eddie with suspicion for a moment, before it faded, leaving behind only a slight smile and something in his eyes that Eddie couldn’t quite identify. 

“Friday it is,” Jonathan agreed, his voice going soft and warm as he held Eddie’s gaze for a moment longer before turning and getting up, disappearing just as silently as he had come, completely unaware of how he had just rocked Eddie’s world. 

Eddie packed up without another word, escaping the clearing the second he could and rushing back to his van. He managed to get all the way through turning it on and driving out of the parking lot of the school before he realized that the five in his lunchbox was his own money, and he had just broken the cardinal rule of drug dealing. 

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Van Der Linde Gang Monster Headcanons

Don't mind me with my stupid little headcanons and shit.

🌙 Dutch Van Der Linde - Vampire

Turned decades ago before the West became wild. Molly O'Shea is the reason he can walk around in the light of day.

🌙 Hosea Mathews - Vampire

He was born human but he was turned by Dutch to save his life during their first robbery together.

🌙 Arthur Morgan - Werewolf

Was bitten by John and turned one night when John got out of his restraints. He's a lot worse than John due to the fact that Arthur is a hell of a lot bigger.

🌙 John Marston - Werewolf

Was bitten and turned before he joined the gang. He has a tendency of slipping from his restraints so it often leads to little rampages across the countryside.

🌙Abigail Marston - Succubus

Born to be a succubus, she used her powers for her prostitution job to get by. That all stopped when a werewolf of all things got her pregnant.

🌙Jack Marston - Unknown

He's far too young for his parents to tell, but as he grows older, it's starting to become apparent that he may take after his father.

🌙Charles Smith - Wendigo

He may not exhibit all of the signs of a true wendigo like cannibalism, but the hulking form tends to shut people up.

🌙Sadie Adler - Human

She's the only human woman in the gang. She has a slight distaste for monsters, but the Van Der Linde Gang is her home.

🌙Micah Bell - Demon

Born out of sin from a deep pit in hell, he continues his hellish torment in the Wild West.

🌙Susan Grimshaw - Banshee

Born to be a banshee, she's kept up at night with the knowledge of how others around her pass. It's why she's so strict and stern with some people sometimes.

🌙Molly O'Shea - Witch

She earns her keep at the camp solely from keeping Dutch and Hosea alive. She's not a fan of using her magic on others unless it's necessary.

🌙Tilly Jackson - Faun

Tilly can sometimes pass for human if her dress is long enough to cover her legs and hooves, but the horns can be a problem. Mary-Beth can always be found with Tilly weaving flowers into her little horns.

🌙Javier Escuella - Skinwalker

He was cursed to become one at a young age, way before he joined the gang. It's often a useful curse but it does come with many downsides.

🌙Bill Williamson - Werebear

Born seemingly human, he didn't know she slept with a monster until he was barely into his teenage years when he turned. It's definitely one of the major factors to his prickly demeanor.

🌙Sean Macguire - Satyr

The Irish charmer is a typical Celtic satyr. Sometimes it's hard for him to keep his holster attached to his leg from how it's all bent naturally. He missing half of one of his horns.

🌙Lenny Summers - Minotaur

Easily the sweetest man of the gang, he's a gentle giant until the bull sees red. It is sometimes hard for him to find a hat that fits the bovine head, though.

🌙Karen Jones - Succubus

She's not very good at her life's work, but when she does succeed, she's pretty brutal. There's a reason she's always drunk all of the time.

🌙Mary-Beth Gaskill - Witch

Her powers are different than Molly's. She's mostly found messing around with plants and such. She's always growing something, mostly herbs to be used for medicines.

🌙Uncle - Human

The only other human in the gang. There are often daily jokes and threats about how the other members are gonna hunt him down and eat him because of his bullshit. Mostly from Micah.

🌙Simon Pearson - Undead

Kept alive after an accident in the Navy by some supernatural forces. It explains the faulty food.

🌙Leopold Strauss - Dragon

It explains his lust for dollars and coins since he was a young child, though, he can't turn into a full beast as he was never strong enough.

🌙Josiah Trelawny - Incubus

His drive did not last long and his powers don't really work nowadays. He's been around longer than Karen and Abigail, though. He's still thankful he's just as strong.

🌙Orville Swanson - Demon

He used to be an angel but made some horrible choices in life which led him to be struck down to hell. Now he continues on the earth continuing bad habits.

🌙Kieran Duffy - Vampire's Thrall

Kept alive by Colm's word and will, he only broke free because Arthur basically kidnapped him. He much prefers the Van Der Linde Gang but he still feels the pull of his master calling for him.

[diamond-rings-and-gutter-bones]

you post a lot about F1 yet somehow i have not managed to learn ANYTHING about it

(this is me awkwardly asking you how the car sport works and who all these guys are and why they seem like characters and also if the industry is as misogynistic as my classmate who wants to do F1 says it is)

rolls up my sleeves and cracks my knuckles. hell yes (warning: personal opinions incoming)

basically, the car sport is 20 fast cars going at breakneck speeds around a variety of tracks all round the world. somehow this comes along with the most drama ive seen in any sport (altho tbf ive never been this deep into any other sports before). there are 10 teams, each one with 2 drivers. your teammate is both your ally and your biggest enemy; you both are opposite sides of the same coin. there is nothing worse than being beaten by your teammate according to jenson button.

each *driver* is competing to win the world drivers championship (wdc), won by the driver who accumulates the most points throughout the season. but each *team* is competing to win the world constructors championship (wcc), won by the two drivers with the most points added together. basically, the wdc is glory and fame, but the wcc is actual money for the team. so a team can win the wcc without either of their drivers winning the wdc or vice versa.

i do not feel qualified to provide a good explanation of every single team but i will do a couple short ones!

oracle red bull racing (aka red bull): have won the last 3 consecutive championships. drivers are max verstappen (3x wdc) and checo perez. max is the it boy of f1, checo used to be quite good as well but idk whats up with all that currently. red bull are still currently really good but might (?) be getting worse due to car struggles and their rocket scientist car designer leaving and one driver carrying the weight of the whole team. but for a team thats actually just an advertisement for an energy drink theyre good.

mclaren: i fucking hate this ugly papaya team. sorry oscar piastri (driver whom i do actually like but who unfortunately drives for them). it is always a curse for me when a driver i like is in mclaren because i hate having to give a shit about that team. they do however seem to have the currently fastest car, not sure by what margin. their other driver is lando norris

mercedes: before this red bull domination era, merc were The top dogs. theyd won 7 consecutive wdc's (with lewis hamilton winning 6 of his 7 total, and nico rosberg winning the other one [the lore on those two guys is so deep, one post isnt gonna cut it. think satosugu but More so]) and they were just generally unbeatable until suddenly they werent. their current drivers are lewis hamilton and george russell but lewis is going to ferrari (this was probably the most surprising thing that happened all year) and while we don't currently know who will replace him for sure, it seems really likely that kimi antonelli, an almost-18-year-old, will be given the seat à la shinji. lewis is pretty much the goat (he has won over 30% of the races he has entered. thats not something normal people do. what the fuck) and george russell is also quite good (george also says things like crikey and oh sugar unironically. its endearing trust me)

ferrari: ... i typed the word ferrari and then sighed a weighty sigh. my favourite team because i am cursed. the last time they won a wdc was in 2007 with kimi raikkonen and since then, well, its not been the greatest. current drivers are charles leclerc (the sun of maranello, il predestinato, ferraris favourite sacrificial lamb, etc etc) and carlos sainz (spanish) but carlos is leaving at the end of the season because lewis. every great driver wants to be the one to bring glory and prestige back to ferraris name, and every great driver walks into the belly of the beast only to be spat out and mauled and weighed in the balance and found wanting. charles leclerc, on the other hand, has gone on record saying that if ferrari is a cage he wants to stay in the cage forever. he has that haunted saintly charm to him AND he's pretty. so. he is also my favourite driver but thats more because of his actual driving trust me. he IS really good and he DOES deserve a championship, and i do have faith that he will have a championship with ferrari one day.

that was only 4 teams/8 drivers. other highlights include: alex albon (GREAT driver, one of my faves, stuck in Williams, which is a cardboard box of a car unfortunately. silly guy) and yuki tsunoda (also good driver, currently in vcarb which is basically red bull's smaller sister team. also a great cook) but for more information i will add a link to a post that better sums up some other things that im not the best expert on

the drivers seem like characters because more or less they are; the scale of the stories and arcs being played out in real life by human beings is enormous. fiction cannot even begin to emulate real life in many of these scenarios. the best thing in life is being able to tell a friend a story and then say "that really happened in my racecar sport."

as for the sport being misogynistic: yes it is, but also it isnt nearly as bad as it used to be and its getting better!

[mercy-thompson-fanfiction]

Hey! Can you write a story with Bran's wolf and Mercy? I am pretty sure if the beast was able to wrestle control from Bran, Mercy would be able to calm it. I would be happy to read something like that.

The ground was only just coming to the season where it was beginning to freeze. It smelled like frozen mud already and it sure hurt like it when I landed on my side.

The last thing I’d ever expect to happen while visiting Aspen Creek was being attacked by a witch. Really, being attacked by anything near Aspen Creek wasn’t on my radar. Most of the things that went bump in the night actively avoided the Marrok. That said, there were very few beings with a death wish quite like witches. Something about being power-hungry (and the Marrok held plenty of power) tended to result in bloodshed, the same could easily be said for werewolves.

When we had made the drive, we had been warned a wilding was missing. This wasn’t particularly uncommon, the wildings did sometimes disappear to die, not entirely unlike a house-cat. Some of them went out in a blaze of glory, and those ones were concerning. But even those “missing” were never actually missing. That Bran had no idea where this one had gone was out of character.

Of course, he’d also had other things on his mind. That was actually the reason we visited. Having been re-inducted into Marrok territory instead of floating as a little island on our own—an unfortunate result of some particularly polarizing political statements I had made—meant that Adam and I were asked to come to Montana.

I stood and shook myself off, the ground was going to leave a worse bruise than what the wilding had done before Adam jumped in.

The witch was out of my sight lines again. It made my ear twitch in frustration. I didn’t like not knowing where she was or what she was working. Adam was two-on-one because she’d already snagged Sherwood in her spell and that was a problem.

First problem was that he was two-on-one. The second, and maybe more pressing, was that Sherwood was not a far cry from Adam. They were, after all, connected. And both were connected to me.

Magic didn’t always work quite properly on me so I wasn’t sure whether to expect that to be a problem or not. It was possible I might be able to shield Adam at the very least.

I was too late to experiment with shielding pack, Sherwood was already gone.

My heart screamed at me to re-engage and help, but common sense overruled this time. I needed to find the witch. There were very few who could control wolves in some capacity similar to this. Personally, I knew of two and both were dead.

I kept my nose to the ground, beginning where I had seen her moment before I’d gone flying, and began tracking. I wasn’t a bloodhound, but black magic was gross enough to smell strongly everywhere it went. Hers had a twinge of familiarity to it, almost akin to a scent I associated with a farrier—the smell of burning hooves.

I picked up the pace because Adam was going to begin losing steam. The trail felt very similar to those Charles used to lay for me. She was far enough ahead of me from my time on the ground to have back-tracked, or maybe she had preset a trail moments before our encounter began.

Maybe we were the target.

No, that wouldn’t make sense. We were an easier target further away from here, further from town even. This was targeted, but her bullseye was Aspen Creek.

When I heard the sound of the truck, I nearly picked up a flat-out run. There was no way to get to her in a truck.

But then I halted.

The sound was almost certainly in the wrong direction. She hadn’t back-tracked that far without me knowing. Plus, the sound of the truck was familiar. It wasn’t the witch’s.

And she wouldn’t leave the vicinity of her captured wolves. I didn’t know what spell she’d caught them in, and some could probably overcome distance, but if her goal was the Marrok then she wouldn’t leave.

She definitely wouldn’t now.

I needed to find her before she found the Marrok. Or, otherwise, I needed to find him before she did.

Both Sherwood and Bran had witch blood and one would think that would give them some sort of resistance to capture by magic, similar to mine.

It didn’t.

It must have been a genetic predisposition to critical failure against witches. Bran, to my knowledge, had been under a witch’s control twice. Sherwood had been physically captured by witches at least once, it’s how he lost his leg, but I wasn’t overly familiar with how much his and Bran’d past overlapped.

The witch had doubled back again. Ground being frozen meant I didn’t have footprints to clue me in until the trail fizzled out. I growled in frustration and turned around. If I couldn’t find her, I could at least stop Bran.

Bran who had gotten my warning and come himself like he had forgotten everything witches were capable of instead of sending Charles.

Charles, the new father. I hadn’t realized he and Anna had adopted, we’d been cut off from Marrok territory for so long. The baby was almost a year old now and we’d just met her.

Maybe it was better Charles stay home and protect her, given what she was.

I was faster on four legs, shooting back into the fight despite my aching side. I stumbled when I shifted, barely taking a pause because she was there and he almost was as well.

It’s possible I should have stayed quiet instead of shouting at him to turn around. The witch hadn’t ensnared Adam yet—though I felt her magic poking at him through our connection to Sherwood and maybe she was depending on that—and it was possible she wouldn’t recognize Bran, not as a wolf. I knew the moment he’d left the truck. I’d heard him change.

All the more dangerous.

And too late. I barely got a word out before I watched him melt away.

Jesse had made a joke once about a girl she knew in college. Every time they went out, this girl posted photos on social media. Jesse called them “soft smile, dead eyes” photos.

Bran was dead eyes, no smile.

Not Bran. I reminded myself. I had never met the berserker and I was pretty sure I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t ever.

“No!” Because he’d lunged into the already snarling pack of furry bodies.

The wilding was dead but the two Cornicks were well alive and Bran hadn’t taken damage yet.

Witch or Adam.

Choice should have been witch again, like the time just before. Witch broke the spell. Witch saved everyone, including the entire continental United States potentially.

But I’d already reacted because I couldn’t waste time chasing her down.

I was on all four again a second later, sprinting into the first opening I could find against everything Adam was telling me in my head—mostly to get away and tell Charles.

Charles who should’ve been told to begin with. I never should have told Bran. I didn’t expect him to be so self-sacrificing this time, not with a witch involved, not given what I knew of his history.

What is the actual point of Leah if this can happen?

Teeth sunk into my neck and there was a fraction of a moment where I considered the fact I’d narrowly avoided paralysis yet again.

Of course, bleeding out was an option.

I was dropped nearly as immediately as the canine jaw broke skin, just as I could feel blood. Something hit Bran’s wolf like a freight train, knocking him over.

Adam.

I’d recognized the silver form anywhere.

In the second I could spare to watch them, I realized I’d met the Marrok’s eyes.

Bran’s eyes.

Not the dead ones.

Adrenaline could only get me so far, I was going to start fading fast because blood rained a little as I shook myself off again. I didn’t heal the way the others did.

Sherwood was back in the fray, seeming to have been momentarily wounded enough to hesitate. It was two-on-one again but this time in our favour.

I spotted the witch again, slightly removed and watching. There should have been a universe where it was safe to take her alive. I so desperately wanted to know what the final goal was here, it clearly wasn’t Bran because she had him and now she didn’t seem to understand that she had him no longer.

There was an extra aggressive snarl.

Adam had Sherwood pinned and Bran was missing. I had only looked away for a second.

Eyes back on the witch, I raced towards her. Blood was pounding in my ears and I didn’t hear whatever sort of curse she hurled my way, but I did manage to escape its clutch. It felt necrotic-almost, withering. I shivered, but kept running and her eyes widened when she realized whatever it was hadn’t worked.

And then Bran was on her from behind, eerily silent until she was thoroughly decapitated and more than a little dismembered.

It wasn’t until he sat back and licked his lips that I realized Adam and Sherwood had completely fallen silent.

Bran’s eyes, which I quickly glanced away from, were unamused.

I was in trouble.

***

Days later, Aspen Creek

“Tell me again the part where you swore you could break the curse if you were ordered to kill me and it didn’t work,” Charles sounded faintly amused about the situation. “But you touch a drop of Mercy’s blood and that’s it. You’re just fine again.”