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vivwritesfics · 13 days ago

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Keep Rolling

Chapter One

One of the biggest F1 content creators is a Youtube Channel called FormulaY/N. She has a leg up on the competition, being Lando's childhood friend and close to the grid. Max Verstappen just so happens to be in love with her.

She looked good, but that came as no surprise to Max Verstappen, the man that had been in love with her for the last three years.

It was very simple, really. She was an artist.

Her art wasn’t to everybody's liking, and it had taken years for her to find an audience to truly appreciate her art. The silly little videos she poured her heart and soul into, the hours she spent filming in her bedroom, editing at her desk.

All to talk about the sport that had captivated her so when she was a little girl.

The world of Formula One had always held a special place in her heart. Hours sat in front of the television every Sunday with her father, watching the men that would become her heroes racing around the track. When her father took her karting for the first time, she squealed in delight.

She was good, too. Winning some races and almost winning others. But, unlike the other kids that were just as talented as she was, her family couldn’t afford to keep it up.

She was in the sport just long enough to make some friends, though. Friends for life, friends who would tough it out with her through thick and thin. At thirteen, she went to watch the two of them race. She knew everybody on the circuit at that point, had raced against them in the past. She’d had many interesting conversations with Charles, whose English wasn’t quite there as a teenager, and stood with George Russell while he watched Alex Albon and you watched Lando.

Max, too, had her full support. When Lando progressed without him, leaving him behind, she was still there to support him. Often doing college course work while watching, but still supporting.

But then, her own career took off.

Twenty nineteen, just as her best friend started his career in Formula One, the views on her Youtube Channel skyrocketed. Her videos talking F1, talking stats and facts and tidbits, talking what little she had learnt from her time karting, were suddenly getting more than their couple hundred views. A couple thousand. Tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands. It just kept going, her videos getting more and more and more views.

Her first rival video was her in the paddock. Silverstone, the first race Lando ever bought her to. With Lando as her part time cameraman (holding her phone), she interviewed what drivers she could with a shitty microphone she got for less than ten pounds. Those that remembered her from karting days embraced her, clearly happy to see her again.

She was happy to see them, too.

That was the first time one of her videos made money. That was the first time Youtube presented itself as a career option. And it was clear what she needed to do.

Not many would consider what she did art. Harmless videos where she had fun around the paddock during race weekends, vlogs with her best friend and silly little challenge videos with his fellow drivers. Interviews, where she got information the mainstream media could only dream of getting. Streaming in her swanky sim rig as well as collaborating with other big Formula One creators.

In the Formula One community, what she did was art. As the community grew, so did her channel. As her best friends fan base grew, so did her own.

Everything was perfect.

In the few years since her first Silverstone vlog, the quality of her Youtube Channel had improved massively. FormulaY/N. A clever name, one she had printed on the cover for her portable microphone. She had a cameraman, too. And a proper camera. Jamie followed her from race weekend to race weekend, camera always pointed at her.

This weekend was no exception.

Australia.

It was hot as balls and she was in prosthetic makeup. A fake nose, a cushion shoved under her too hot suit. A wispy beard and some grey, bushy eyebrows. Contacts in her eyes, changing their colour.

Jamie looked no better. An ugly wig and a cable knit jumper. The wig was flattened down, nearly covering one eye and he wore eyeliner. His nose was his own but the ring in it (and the two in his lip) was fake.

“Perfect,” she said, releasing a breath as she stared at herself in the mirror.

The introduction to her video had been filmed the night before, after checking into her hotel room. She had looked normal, then, actually looked kind of cute. The intro had been quick, explained the premise of her Paddock Pals video.

Paddock Pals. A series she had started just the year prior. It was always a laugh, always had the drivers rolling their eyes at her once they found out.

The aim of the game was simple. Dress up in disguise and conduct terrible interviews with as many drivers as possible. The first one to spot that it was really her giving the interviews, and not an old man with a terrible Australian accent, won the game and bragging rights.

The Paddock Pals video from the year before had been a great success. But that had been in Canada, and it had been raining the entire time. The stupid disguise hadn’t been this uncomfortable then, she was sure of it.

“Ready?” She asked Jamie. He looked positively miserable in his tight jeans, cable knit and fake piercings. The outfit alone was already ridiculous, some grandpa-goth hybrid; the heat of it all was only going to make things worse.

With a huff, he propped his camera on his shoulder. “Ready,” he answered and she held her portable microphone up.

It was a little dramatic, the way she took off the FormulaY/N cover and replaced it with a sad, generic one. “I’ll miss you, little buddy,” she said as she picked the cover up from the bed, placed it into her pocket and patted it.

Her attention turned back to the camera. “Now we’ve got the important stuff out of the way, let’s go and find our first victim.”

***

The Australian accent was a terrible idea, she realised as she held her microphone up to Pierre Gasly. She nodded along, tried to make it seem like it was a real interview but she busted out the weird stuff. From the get go, she couldn’t help but feel like Pierre was side-eyeing her. He knew something was up.

She couldn’t lose on the first interview.

When Pierre finished speaking, she was still nodding, still holding the microphone up to his mouth. He looked between her and Jamie, as if he was looking around for some help. Oh, he had no idea.

“Tell us about your tripod,” she said, sounding dead serious. The accent made it so damn hard.

Pierre furrowed his brows at her. “This is for television?” He asked, trying to be quiet. But her portable microphone and the little one stuck to her jacket picked up everything.

She nodded, trying to keep her face stoic. If she tried hard enough, she could become the weird old reporter who had been a part of the sport forever but was always too scared to get in a car. She could become that man if she really tried. “What does the world need to know about your tripod?”

Pierre’s cheeks heated up. “Nothing!” He cried.

“Well, little Johnny and I heard it might be broken. So, we’ve got you something that can hopefully help.” Shenodded to Jamie (or little Johnny, as he was for this bit) and he put down the camera. Grabbing something from her bag, he handed it to her and picked up the camera again.

Pierre’s face was full of confusion as she opened up the tripod. An actual tripod, not a euphemism. An actual tripod for capturing videos. “There,” she said as she set it down. “A temporary replacement until yours gets better,” she said.

Before Pierre could react, she clapped him on the shoulder and walked away. One victim down. Only three more and she would have beaten her record from the year previous.

Pierre continued to stare after her as she and Jamie walked away, tripod still beside him. It looked like it would hold a hefty piece of equipment, not a cheap, shit one. “Wait a minute,” he mumbled to himself.

Her next victim was easily her favorite. Charles. Charles was the reason last years Paddock Pals was so successful. He was just… Charles; he needed minimal prompting and ran with the weird interview.

His smile was polite as she spoke to him. “First of all, I got some things here for you to sign.”

Ferrari cap (he'd already signed it for her), Ferrari baby grow, shitty, tiny cardboard cutout of him, bag of crisps, a FormulaY/N hat and an MV1 hat (she insisted he sign on the one).

With each signed item that he handed back to her, she threw it over her shoulder and let it disappear.

“So, Charles,” she began. “When can we expect new music?” A perfectly normal question to get started, to catch him off guard.

Charles kept his smile polite as he began to give an answer to her and to the camera (now just propped up on a wall). He didn't seem to notice as Jamie set up a small toy piano behind the two of them. A small thing that had real keys, as well as making fart and dog sounds.

“When can we collaborate?” She asked him, pretending not to notice the piano, either.

A chuckle left his lips. “You need to show me your music first!” He said, keeping his composure even though he was side eyeing her. But Charles was pretty good at this whole PR thing.

She stepped behind the Casio keyboard. “Sing along if you know it!” She called to him.

Jerry Lee Lewis. She played Great Balls of Fire in the middle of the Australian Grand Prix paddock.

If that didn't give her away, she didn't know what would.

Charles didn't hesitate to sing along, along with a couple of Red Bull engineers as they walked past. A small group, all shouting the ‘Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!’ part.

Her fingers hit the keyboard one last time, finishing the song. “That was great, Charles. Have your people talk to my people about our album!” She called as she walked away, leaving the piano there.

Charles stared down at it. He hit a button that made a fart sound and turned his gaze to follow her.

Something was definitely fishy.

Her third victim. He wasn't even supposed to be her third victim, it just sort of happened.

His smile was too warm for the kind of interview they were having. But he was rolling with the weird questions, giving equally as weird answers.

Admittedly, she had nothing planned for Max. The Paddock Pals videos didn't seem like something he wanted to be in. But he was doing great.

She swallowed as she asked another question. Max was matching her energy. Why was he matching her energy?

He had to know. He had to know it was her and that she was filming a Paddock Pals video. He had to know and that was why he was so relaxed.

Before she could get her final question out, her beard was yanked from her face. “Hey!” She shouted as it tore away from her skin. That was supposed to be a gentle procedure, one that didn't have her wincing as the glue was ripped away from her skin. “Ow, Charles!” She shouted and held her face.

He grinned at her, half a fake beard dangling pathetically from between his fingertips. She glared at him as she pulled off her fake nose and pulled her pillow out from beneath her suit. It was an instant relief from just how hot it was, but the oversized suit was still uncomfortable.

With a sigh, she pulled the FormulaY/N microphone cover from her pocket and swapped it over. Pulling the hat and grey wig from her head, she dropped it to the floor and turned to the camera. “There you have it, folks! The winner of this year’s episode of Paddock Pals is Charles Leclerc.” She held her hand out to him. “Your prize? Bragging rights.”

Charles shook her hand and took the microphone off of her. “I would like to thank Arthur and Leo for this achievement and I can’t wait to win next year’s Paddock Pals.”

Snatching the microphone back from him, she rolled her eyes as she sent him on his way. But it wasn’t nasty, and she was grinning the entire time. “Just like last year, we only managed to interview three drivers before we got found out. Once again, congratulations to Charles and thank you to all of my unwilling participants. I’m gonna get dressed out of this ugly ass suit, and I’ll see you all at the track.”

Jamie cut the camera and put it down. “I’m gonna go and edit,” he mumbled and tossed the duffle bag on her shoulder towards her. Not saying anything else, Jamie walked away.

She tried to shout a goodbye and a thank you, but Jamie was long gone. He picked up all of the ridiculous items that they had brought for the silly interviews on his way.

“A Paddock Pals video, huh?”

She clutched the bag against her chest as she looked at Max. “C’mon,” she mumbled. “You knew it was me the entire time.”

Max nodded his head. He smiled, only a small one that she didn’t read too much into. “The contacts were a nice touch. They were what had me doubting it was you.”

When she began walking, Max fell into step beside her. “Did I go too overboard with the outfit? Is that what gave it away?” She asked, leading the way to the McLaren garage.

“Maybe,” he answered. “I think I’d be able to tell, anyway.”

She shrugged off her jacket. “So, what I’m hearing is that my challenge for next year is to try and catch you out?” She stopped in front of the McLaren garage, her smile a mix of sly and sweet as she stared up at him.

“You can try,” he answered, his smile growing.

But then she disappeared into the McLaren garage. Max was still watching her, eyes still following her as she greeted Lando and continued on, no doubt heading to his driver's room to get dressed into something more comfortable. It was what she had done last year.

Of course, last year she didn’t interview Max. He knew it was her, with the fake boobs and brightly coloured wig. Everybody had to know it was her, right? They had to be playing along, for the video, right?

Max couldn’t help but keep his eye on the McLaren garage. He didn’t realise he was doing it, until his vision was filled with so much orange, it was nearly blinding.

But then she stepped out.

Black shorts, orange corset style top with a lightweight, black jacket on top. She had taken a moment to brush out her hair, to put on some jewellery, and to put her typical Lando Norris hat on top of her head.

She looked good, but that came as no surprise to Max Verstappen, the man that had been in love with her for the last three years.

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kamospeach · 2 months ago

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plot: ceo!sukuna and the woman he was forced to marry finally learning to get along.

content warning: none at all. it's not 18+ but if i make a fic it will be.

peachy's yap: i wanna make this into a fic but im not 100% sure yet, lmk ! no smut just a small fluff to test out the waters. one last one shot coming until i go on a lil break.

this wasn't what you wanted at all. ever since you were a little girl you planned to get married to a caring man. years later give birth to a love child hold he or she in your arms as you and your loving husband smiled at one another.

that dream was gone now and here you were a year after your wedding. terrified to even knock on the door of his study knowing his temper was off the wall at the moment. when you were cooped up in your hobby room you could hear him barking orders. while you sat in silence writing novel after novel he forbade you to publish.

this was your everyday, wake up alone, eat alone, write alone, shower alone, watch movies alone, and even go to sleep alone. he was in his study night and day until his hefty body slipped into your shared bed waking you at 2am. he didn't bother to apologize he just turned away going to sleep himself. and yet you found yourself wanting to be close to sukuna.

you sighed already knowing the conversation you both were bound to have today... just like every month for the last year. you were given to him for your writing and negotiating skills. his father the previous boss offered to pay your father millions to suspend the contract at your job for you to work for them. all for money. you raised your hand knocing on the wretched door.

you and sukuna moved into this house 6 months ago and it felt like you'd been locked away in a tower. although sukuna never listened to your ideas or let you have your way about anything he left the house details to you. he stood back as you worked with the sketchy architect who purposely looked down your blouse (his words).

he let you pick out the number of rooms, and bathrooms. the ceiling height, the shape of the pool, even how many patio chairs you wanted. he let you decorate the house pick the colors, even would let you throw splashes of pink and purple where ever you pleased. but you never did it, you didn't want to do it if not with sukuna.

but to sukuna none of this mattered because his work was more important. in his words he said 'i'll let you deal with less important matters. at least im positive you won't fuck that up.' did that statement hurt? hell yeah but even then you still wanted to be close to him.

"s...sukuna?" you stuttered waiting to hear his gruff voice.

"get in here." he said sternly and you pushed the heavy doors open, struggling at the weight. once you pushed in you stood by the door hands behind your back fingers laced. "sit." he said pointing to the chair in front of his desk and you scurry not wanting to anger him.

"i'm sorry i didn't come sooner i was writing and i had a idea i couldn't lose." you plead his eyes never left yours. he face expression neither annoyed nor pleased.

"why must you continue writing, when you have a duty to fulfill here." he grumbled and you looked down at your thumbs.

"sukuna you wont let me go with you to negotiate that's all m'good for." you say and he scoffs at your excuse.

"you are here to write contracts and negotiate deals you have not done any of that over the last year!" he said his voice raising, by no means were you a push over. scared of this big, brolic, hunk definitely but one thing you'll never be is a punk.

"you have yet to assign me any work. i know what you'll say 'you should come ask me if there's anything to do' but you are my boss. you instruct i follow, i refuse to do anything for you if you can not request it on your own." your reply was calm, you didn't want to anger him further.

"i don't want to overwhelm you," he sighs. his strict facade dropping as he handed you papers and you hum. looking down at the papers it was full of stats and numbers that made your head spin. "this is everyday work for me, i need your help but i must figure it out alone."

"the numbers are a bit crazy but it's not much to find a way to make a deal that'll pretty up the numbers." you tell him and he nods.

"how?" he asked and you looked up at him. this was the first time sukuna had asked for your help. you were shocked that he even let you know that he needed help.

"i mean your the statistics man. once you work out the numbers we can talk negotiating." you tell him with a smile hoping the sly compliment of him being good with numbers didn't slip past him. his red eyes looked up at you through his thick lashes. the corner of his lips tugging upwards as if he wanted to smile and couldn't.

this day was the first day you sat next to sukuna behind his desk. your knees touched and even that amount of contact was enough for you. you helped him clean up his desk and he didn't object he just said 'make sure you put them where i tell you'. and you did picking up the papers on his desk and organizing them for him. placing them in different stacks based off who and what they were from.

little did you know sukuna admired your every move. he watched how you walked around his office complaining about how dull it was. how your curls bounced with every step you took. he watched you search up paint colors and decor for his office. not once did this distract him, he either hummed in agreement or disagreement as he worked on the numbers.

even days later the connection between sukuna and you began to grow. he listened to your opinions and even stepped out of his office during the day. he came to your writing room to sit and drink coffee with you at 3am when you felt like you had a good idea. he even showed you the room you called the 'junk room' that was quite literally filled with sukuna's junk. he pulled out an electric guitar bragging about how it was signed by one of the best.

he tells you the name as you face scrunches up in confusion never hearing of this man ever. but even your disinterest in that didn't deter his sheer audacity and gall. he called you a degenerate and said you were a bug under a rock. you replied with 'more like a boulder' as you looked him up and down judgingly.

this comment made sukuna laugh, yes actually laugh. from that day you never held in a joke, letting anything on your mind loose. sometimes sukuna would look at you as if you said the stupidest shit on earth. most times he'd shake his head with an endearing smile but 2 times out of 10 he'd laugh.

day after day the more time you spent with sukuna the more you were pulled out of the depression. you watched movies of families with a smile even thinking about having a child with that demon.

in return sukuna became more comfortable approaching you. initially he was scared to anger you or say something that would hurt your feelings. heeding his father's warning 'don't talk to her too much. you know how you are, you'll hurt her feelings.' so he listened avoided starting conversation, leaving the bed before you woke up and coming in after you fell asleep. ate in his office and never ever entered your writing room.

that day you came in and told him he was your boss changed his brain chemistry. his father was wrong, he wouldn't hurt your feelings because you wanted him to act like your boss. you could dish it out and take it. that day was when sukuna thought to himself 'i could really get used to this'.

that's why after a month of the two of finally getting along sukuna instructed you to meet him at the dining table. dining table was a stretch as it only had 2 chairs. as you waited for him assuming it was about work you were shocked for sukuna to slam down your houses floorplan.

"it's about time we made this house into a home don't ya think?" he asked looking at you and you smiled. and the two of you sat there all night you sipping on a shirley temple and he drank whiskey. he promised he'd make you cocktails from now on since you found out he was a bartender for all of 3 months.

you planned and brainstormed until the next morning. you were leaned on the table drool coming out of your mouth. sukuna smiled at how comfortable you had became around him. he lifted you and carried you up the stairs. that was the first day sukuna felt like he was really a husband. that day was when sukuna swore to himself that he would be a husband.

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that-house · 1 month ago

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The Tarrasque Can Blow Me or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Make 5e Bosses That Don't Suck

HI, I'm Catherine that-house, and I play Dungeons and Dragons Fifth Edition almost as much as I hate it. I do this because I am a sicko pervert who likes to tinker with abysmal dogshit, not because it's a good game. This screed is dedicated to everyone trapped in the same mine as me.

D&D 5e combat sucks! Here's the flow chart for your melee champion fighter's turn:

IF BAD GUY: smack bad guy

IF BAD GUY WITHIN 30 FT: move to bad guy, smack bad guy

IF LOW ON HP: second wind

IF NO BAD GUY WITHIN 30 FT: dash towards nearest bad guy

action surge, take it from the top

IF YOU'RE FEELING DARING TODAY: maybe a grapple or an item interaction

And pretty much any non-caster monster has a pretty similar flowchart: there's no real back and forth, just the same set of actions over and over and the only time you have to pay attention on someone else's turn is for an attack of opportunity maybe. Finally one side reduces the other side's number to 0, and you can get back to roleplaying in your roleplaying game.

In general, I strive to make my boss fights hard and interesting, with interesting being the more important of the two. For some reason the wicked clowns working at WOTC got it into their heads that the only ways to make a fight hard are Bigger Number and Less Counterplay. I don't have any data on how they sought to make fights interesting because as far as I can tell they were too busy siccing the Pinkertons on people like it's the fucking 1800s.

Probably not all 5e combat is like this. But, like, look at the statblock for the Tarrasque, the CR 30 "strongest monster in the game" and try to tell me that that thing looks INTERESTING to fight. Difficult? Maybe, if your stats are bad. But INTERESTING? It walks at someone and murders the shit out of them, then rinses and repeats. The fetid dog turd that is the Tarraque is the perfect example of the Bigger Number, and even its meme status as the DM's "fuck you" monster is eclipsed by later additions to the game.

The other end of the "strongest 5e statblock" spectrum is shit like Sul Khatesh from Eberron, who earns the title of "most bullshit" by being immune to nonmagic attacks and creating antimagic fields. This is progress, because you might force someone to grapple it out of the field or something so everyone can deal damage! But this is still ultimately a pretty linear fight, not unlike fighting any other caster in the game, but with Less Counterplay.

My DMing style is pretty character goal-oriented, with the occasional bullshit superboss. We sit around for a few sessions while people pursue side projects and gather information, and then I subject them to the Horrors of a 5e fight that requires things like "positioning" and "planning" from turn to turn.

When playing a high level D&D campaign with insanely bullshit homebrew magic items and character-specific custom mechanics, it becomes necessary to pull out the big guns. The biggest guns. I'm talking a gun like my boy Hierarch Ozyas, undead demigod, father of monsters and heart of a living city, who had a meaty 2000 hit points and took somewhere in the vicinity of thirteen rounds of combat to bring down. Building bosses is an arms race and it's my job to lose in style. Here's Ozyas' statblock:

The bitch himself

Anyways I've been talking for a bit without actually saying anything of substance besides making fun of the Tarrasque. Which I will do one more time:

...deep breath...

D&D 5e is a pretty widely-disdained game by pretty much anyone who's ever played more than one RPG system. I myself only play it because I enjoy game design, and the thoroughly-beaten dead horse that WOTC calls a game serves as a decent foundation to do a lot of heavy tinkering. The Tarrasque is perfectly emblematic of all of the trash I have to wade through in order to get to the stuff worth keeping: it is an uninspired, anticlimactic relic of the past that didn't even manage to cling to a shred of its old glory and is instead content to wallow in the filth of what it once was, never once providing a challenge to any character with a flying speed. I would probably attempt to beat it to death with my hands (and fail, because it checks your character's stats rather than challenging you as a player in any way), but Jim the 1st level aaracokra with a save-forcing damage cantrip already solo'd it for me, so I'll settle for chewing through the throat of whichever game designer forgot they were making a "game" and submitted a three step flowchart for D&D's ultimate boss monster.

But anyways, I promised you a guide to how I design boss fights these days, so let's get to that.

Actually, first here's a quick aside about action economy that I didn't bother finding a place to fit in elsewhere: legendary actions are basically a necessity for any boss past level five or so. One big action is going to be a lot more polarizing than several small ones (i.e. one big crit on a large attack could completely flip the course of the fight, whereas multiple smaller attacks offer the same amount of damage output in a more consistent fashion). If you don't want to give your boss a bunch of HP to make it live long enough to take a few turns, you could consider giving it two turns in the initiative order (reducing the damage per turn to keep the damage per round constant). Low health minions are also a good way to pad out action economy, and even if they're easy to kill they tend to buy the boss another turn or two just from the actions it costs to take them down.

ANYWAYS, here's the core ideas I like to focus on in my boss design:

Keep them moving

Keep them working

Keep things changing

Reward good play

Punish mistakes

Make it a game

Along the way I'll be using snippets of the boss I mentioned above to illustrate examples of these principles and how they affected play. Let's begin.

KEEP THEM MOVING Positioning doesn't really matter in 5e. AoEs and movement values are both so large that you can easily get away with not having a battle map and sorta just tracking "in melee" or "not in melee." I run most fights without a battle map and just kinda track that, but for a good boss you need a map.

But how do we keep the game from just falling back into "move into range and hurt people," you ask? Simple: the Zone of Nasty. The Zone of Nasty is something on the map that is going to hurt the PCs if they're in it, and the Zone of Nasty moves. Depending on the boss, it could grow, shrink, follow a player, follow the boss, alternate between areas of the map, whatever. Some bosses might have multiple different Zones of Nasty that move in different ways and do different things.

There are other ways to force movement besides a moving AoE, such as punishing players for being too close or too far from each other or the boss.

The general principle here is that a boss should at times force suboptimal play: optimal play involves simply standing around, spending all your actions on damaging the boss, and it's incredibly boring from a strategic standpoint. There should be turns in which your players have to spend their action economy on protecting themselves or helping their allies. If they find themselves in a Zone of Nasty, it should force a decision between suffering the consequences to continue optimal play, or spending resources to get out of it.

Our boy Ozyas had a Cancer Field that he could move slowly around the arena that damaged and debuffed PCs inside it, and Pretender-God-Piercing Strike, a telegraphed line attack that oneshot anything that stayed in its area too long (more on this one later).

KEEP THEM WORKING Everyone needs a job to do! This job is probably just going to be based on what their class and abilities encourage them to do, but it sucks for someone to not be able to meaningfully participate in a boss fight.

Let the DPS players kick the boss's teeth in, obviously, but make sure the person who focused on AoE effects has some extra enemies that they can deal with. Bonus points if the extra enemies have something that forces them to be dealt with instead of just rushing the boss' HP bar.

Worst case scenario, throw in a secondary objective like completing a ritual, controlling a point on the map, or fighting the boss' soul on a higher plane to give someone who isn't immediately needed for DPS to still have something to do.

Ozyas spawned a bunch of extra monsters from these gross Birthing Pillars around the map, and killing the monsters and destroying the pillars provided a nice secondary course of action for people either not equipped to slug it out with the boss or not currently positioned right to fight him.

KEEP THINGS CHANGING The tarrasque sucks because it does one thing over and over until it works or it dies. The Theros splatbook improved on this marginally: Mythic Traits are fucking baller! Combats should change over the course of the fight, or this could have been a fucking autobattler. But we can go further.

In addition to occasionally shaking things up based on health thresholds, here's a few ways I like to do it:

Rotating list of effects that change every round

Huge list of options the boss can choose from for one of their effects with no repeats

Some sort of meter that increases and decreases based on what's happening in the fight and modifies the boss' abilities

Ozyas summoned new monsters every round and could customize the statblocks with a bunch of quick templates I whipped together, and in his second phase he started alternating between scaling the to hit/damage of his tentacle attack, the reach of his spear attack, and applying extra buffs to his summons.

REWARD GOOD PLAY These next two kind of tie together but the core idea here is that it's okay if a boss is a bit easy, as long as it makes your players work for it.

This can include things like ways to trivialize certain parts of the encounter as long as the players utilize them, typically at the cost of advancing other parts of the fight.

I knew that Ozyas was going to be a long fight, so I gave my players the ability to heal to full health, as an action, whenever they wanted. They were fighting inside Ozyas' body, and he was a generous host. However, any time they healed, he would be healed for the same amount. They got around this restriction by hitting him with Chill Touch to disable his own healing whenever people needed to heal, but that obviously had the cost of losing two actions' worth of damage output.

Towards the end of the fight, everyone was still standing thanks to that healing, but as he began to infinitely scale his stats once he reached his second phase and started taking them seriously, they couldn't afford to waste turns healing anymore and the safety net they built up by healing earlier in the fight kept anyone in the party from dying.

PUNISH MISTAKES The range on D&D characters' HP pools and general survivability can be pretty broad. I like to give my bosses a reasonably-heavy hitting melee and some sort of light ranged attack to remind the backliners that they too can die. But there's a third kind of attack.

The great equalizer.

The One Hit Knock Out move.

These need to be telegraphed. There needs to be copious time to get out of the area, or to stop the boss from using it, or whatever the case may be. But any superboss should have a way to threaten any player on equal standing: a move that will always hit if its conditions are met, and puts them clean to 0.

Ozyas' OHKO was Pretender-God-Piercing Strike, where at the end of each turn he would wind up a spear thrust with enough range to hit across the entire map, targeting a 15-foot line through the nearest player. Neither he nor the line could move after that, and if you were still in that line at the start of his next turn, you were done.

It wasn't hard to avoid: just walk like 10 feet and don't get pushed back in by another enemy. They even lined it up to target some of his own allies sometimes. But it forced them to think about positioning and stay moving, and there were a few times where it aaaaalmost caught someone in the line. The prospect of Instant Death really does wonders to ratchet up the tension.

And now, finally, we come to the most important part:

MAKE IT A GAME D&D 5e likes to jerk off while fantasizing about being real. "Catherine what the fuck are you talking about?" What I mean to say is that D&D makes a fumbling attempt towards a more simulationist style of game, trying to distance itself from the fact that it is, in fact, a game. It tries to comport itself like reality, such that every part of its combat makes sense in-universe, and then immediately falls short because it can't be assed to indulge in actual simulationism.

It is my belief that if you're going to spend 4 hours fighting a boss, and one of the boss mechanics doesn't really make much sense as an in-universe concept but does make the boss more interesting and fun to fight, then that's a perfectly fine mechanic. Obviously finding some way to justify it is preferable, but my bosses prioritize good gameplay over verisimilitude.

The upcoming boss in my campaign has a feature which puts the fight on a ten-round time limit before he begins kicking substantially more ass than he was before (and the prior ass-kickery was indeed already substantial). If this is a desperate fight with his life and his dreams on the line, why doesn't he open with that? If this were a WOTC statblock, barring a mythic trait, that's exactly how it would work. But fuck that, because it would make the fight way less interesting! Now there's time pressure! And sure, the post-round-ten version of the boss is meant to be fled from, not fought, but if he's at a low enough HP it could instead make for an insane climactic finish!

I let my players see the whole statblock before the fight. We talk through all of its abilities, and I'll even point out some of the potential points of complexity and the big risks to watch out for. There's no in-universe justification for why the characters would know this (beyond, perhaps "you're exceptional adventurers and are good at evaluating your foes"): in fact, one of the quintessential examples of classical 5e metagaming is the Guy Who's Read the Monster Manual. I think that's fucking stupid, though. With open statblocks:

Features can be game-warpingly deadly without instantly incurring a TPK born of ignorance. OHKO moves don't feel fair unless the counterplay is known

The players can strategize around the ways in which the boss is going to change throughout the fight

It's fundamentally fair. Some GMs just wait X turns and then let the boss go down when it takes a big, impressive hit (and I fully respect people who do that! That's still more compelling boss design than 5e's normal schlock), but I personally like when numbers have meanings.

You can still hide some information (I like to black out the boss' Mythic Trait, and then only use it if the players stomp the fight too easily), and you can still tweak it to adjust the difficulty, with the difference being that your players know it's being adjusted and how so (which again comes back to my feelings of fairness).

A few other fun mechanics to toss in include stacking debuffs that trigger something horrible at some certain threshold, additional win conditions or lose conditions, and silly little minigames. One trick I particularly enjoy is having my players secretly vote between two or more bad outcomes, and punishing them even more if the vote is tied.

CONCLUSION Your mileage may vary, but I'm hoping at least some of the insights here were useful to you! I have a particular strain of undiagnosed mental illnesses that make me especially predisposed towards piloting huge convoluted intricate bosses with 1k+ word statblocks, and I'm lucky enough to have players who know their shit well enough to play around this bullshit. Find something that works for you and your players.

If you hate 5e combat and think this sounds like way too much work to be worth doing, go play something else, like Pathfinder or Lancer or (heaven forbid) a game that actually struggles to trace its lineage of inspiration back to D&D. Go to itch.io and find some game no one's ever played before, and toss the creator a bit of money. The only way we're making it out of these goddamn Mines of Phandelver is if people try something new from time to time.

On the subject of cool games with cool combat, bear with me as I shill for a friend real quick. If you want a game that cares less about combat as an abstract dick measuring contest and more about combat as a facet of violence and all that that entails, check out [BXLLET> by @rathayibacter.

And, finally, from the bottom of my heart, fuck WOTC. Your books aren't even worth pirating, and the Tarrasque can blow me.

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justmeinadaze · 3 months ago

Text

November Rain Part 3 (Eddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: A treat for your weekend because I love you. No cliffhanger <3

Enjoy!

Warning: Warnings: Older (Early to Mid 30s) Dominate Boxer (Friend's Dad) Eddie X Plus Size Fem younger (early to mid 20s) sub Y/N, SMUT, Daddy Kink, spanking, dirty talk, light degrading, aftercare, etc.

ANGST, Big thing here is Jealous Eddie, we meet Y/N's ex, they all have dinner together and Y/N and her ex are not on the same page when it comes to their relationship. Paige's mom (Eddie's ex) experiences a break in so that's briefly mentioned, Eddie knocks someone out and breaks their nose (briefly mentioned), no cliff hanger I promise, we finally find out about why Eddie and his ex broke up, readers ex negatively mentions the reader weight (can't properly 'daddy' insinuating because she's heavy he can't toss her around (idiot)). It's real brief. Y/N does mention being a little insecure when it comes to her size and men.

Word Count: 6073

Donate to Me/ Previous Parts Here

“Hey, you’re Paige, right? Nice to meet you.”, your ex grinned as he reached out to shake your friend’s hand.

When your roommate came home and told you Eddie had suggested you all come see him fight, there was absolutely nothing more you wanted to avoid but you had no excuse besides the one no one was allowed to know. Gritting your teeth, you dressed up in the sexist dress you could find hoping it would boost your confidence as you four walked into the arena.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, Brad. I’ve heard all about you.”, she replies with distain as she avoids his palm. “This is my boyfriend Eli.”

Both men shake hands as Paige leads you to the seats written on your tickets.

“My dad put us upfront. This is my first time seeing him fight so…”

“That’s cool your dad is a fighter. I can’t wait to see how good he is.”, Brad smiles as he continues to try and make pleasantries that your friend brushes off.

“Be nice.”, you whisper as you poke her side.

“I’m trying but all I know is he hurt you so I already hate him. He’s got a long way to go.”

You laugh as you lean on her shoulder and she hugs you to her side as the lights fall. The announcer does the usual introduction of stats before each boxer enters into the ring. Compared to the first fight you witnessed; Eddie seemed a lot more on edge.

His jaw was tight as he angrily banged his gloves together and his gorgeous normally soft eyes were full of fire as he scanned the arena around him. When he found Paige, he blinked, beaming her way as he nodded his head and she smiled back with a little wave.

When his irises found you, they illuminated again as he slowly took you in and the man sitting beside you.

When the fight began, he was ruthless. With every swing there was a force behind it and after each bell the ref would have to push each man apart before directing them to their corners.

“Jesus, this guy is insane.”, Brad breathed in amazement as he leaned back and nonchalantly wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

When Eddie glanced your way, your heart broke as he furiously looked away and bounced to his feet to begin the new round. After the bell rang, he wasted no time and you jumped at the loud sound of bones cracking as his glove connected with the other man’s jaw.

Cheers erupted as he was announced the winner and his arm was raised in the air. Even Paige couldn’t contain her excitement as she giddily clapped for her father. As he heavily inhaled and exhaled, your eyes locked before he gathered some saliva and spit in your direction onto the mat in front of him.

***

“I, um, I’m going to use the bathroom really quick.”

“Do you want me to walk you—”

“No, Brad, I’m a big girl. I can take myself to the bathroom.”, you sass as you turn and head in that direction.

Making sure no one was looking, you detoured down the hall where the boxer’s locker rooms were being held and apprehensively knocked on the door marked “Munson.”

“Yeah, what?!”

As you slowly open it, you’re met with his sweaty back from his spot on the doctor’s table within as he begins unwrapping his hands.

“You did well out there tonight.”

At the sound of your voice, Eddie’s head shoots up, eyes meeting yours as you come around to face him.

“My daughter with you?”, he grumbles.

“She’s by the front door of the building with Eli and Brad.”

He chuckles as a sarcastic smile paints his lips.

“Of course his name is fucking Brad.”, he retorts as he finishes pulling off his wrap and aggressively tosses it aside.

“You can’t be mad, Eddie.”

“Excuse me? Why the fuck can’t I be angry that you’re leaving me without so much as a fucking explanation?”, he growls as he starts to stalk your way.

“How can I ‘leave you’? We aren’t in a relationship.”, you sass back, gradually taking steps backwards.

“I should have known, right? That’s all we really were to each other, a fucking rebound. Cause I can obviously see you didn’t give a damn about me.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t you dare pin this on me! What were we going to do, Eddie? Just hide our relationship forever?”

“No, no.”, he tuts as your back hits a wall and he places himself directly in front of you, boxing you in with his large frame. “We weren’t in a relationship, remember? Nothing to hide. And it’s Mr. Munson now. Better get fucking used to that since you’re nothing to me now.”

He was being mean on purpose and you knew why. You hadn’t reached out to him in a week and then he finds out suddenly that you’ve been speaking with your ex. He had every right to be angry…he really did…

That didn’t change the fact that his words were cutting into you like a knife.

“I never meant to hurt you… Mr. Munson.”

Eddie’s eyes search yours and he prays you can’t see how hurt he genuinely was.

“Yet you did. If I had known you didn’t care about me or my feelings I wouldn’t have engaged. I’ve got enough on my fucking plate.”

“I do care… I just… Fuck, it doesn’t matter now.”

“Yeah…”, he sighs as he backs away. “Tell Paige I’ll meet you guys at the restaurant. Now get the fuck away from me.”

***

You knew he’d be bringing a date to dinner.

Paige said he would be but what you didn’t expect was how beautiful this woman would actually be. Add in the fact that she was close to Eddie’s age which made you incredibly self-conscious as you folded into your ex’s side.

“Hey guys, this is Tina. Tina, this my daughter Paige and her boyfriend Eli.”, he introduces and the woman beams as she nods their way. “And this is her roommate Y/N and her boyfriend…”

“FRIEND…Brad.”, you correct as you awkwardly smile and the man beside you glances your way before standing to shake their hands.

“Nice to meet you. Mr. Munson, sir, that fight was amazing.”

“Oh yeah? You like boxing?”

“I do enjoy it but I could never kick ass like you just did.”, he laughs as he sits back down and places his arm around the back of your chair.

Eddie does the same to his date and as the night goes on you notice he gets slowly more intimate with the woman at his side; whispering in her ear, making her laugh, and gently running his fingers through her hair.

Is this what a normal date with him would have been like?

Jealousy pierces your heart but you know you’ll have to get used to it. You couldn’t be together, right?

Pushing your chair back a bit forcefully, you powerwalked to the restroom and silently cried in the stall.

“Y/N?”, Paige called as you hastily wiped your eyes. “Honey, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m…I’m ok.” You tried to sound confident but your voice waivered as you opened the stall door and headed to the sink to wash your hands.

“You miss him, don’t you? Your boxer guy.”

“Yeah but…it was complicated. We…we could never make it work.”

“Okaaaay… but that doesn’t mean you need to let this asshole back into your life.”

“Paige!”, you giggle. “Be nice. I…He deserves a second chance. We were together for so long and loved each other… but we’re taking it slow…”

“Does he know that? He seemed upset when you corrected my dad with his date.” At the mention of his date, you rolled your eyes and your friend laughed. “I know but she seems nice enough.”

“Have you met her before?”

“Uh no. He’s talked about her before in passing but…”

“But what?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about her the way he did the other girl he was seeing. The one that constantly left hickies that he tried to hide.” Paige continues to laugh as you both cringe. “I’m not sure what happened there but yeah.”

Pulling her in for a hug, she smiles as she pulls back, cups your cheeks in her palms, and kisses your forehead. You exit the bathroom hand in hand before the bulky frame of your ex gives you both pause.

“I’ll, um, meet you at the table.”

Nodding you let her go and Brad waits a few seconds before finally speaking.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m ok. It’s just been a long night and I’m exhausted.”

His hazel eyes flick across your face as he takes you in and his fingers reach out to caress you.

“Do, um, do you want Daddy to take care of you tonight?”

You tried to control it but there was nothing you could do to stop Eddie’s face from appearing in your mind at the title. It had become so accustomed and he was genuinely so good at taking care of you in that headspace that the idea of calling anyone else that felt wrong.

The door behind him abruptly banged open and you were met with the metalhead’s angry eyes again as he dried his hands before tossing the napkin in the wastebin. Ignore you two, he mumbled a small “Excuse me” and roughly shoved Brad out of the way as he headed back to the table.

Ignoring his initial question, you did the same.

The rest of the night wore on with you praying it would end soon so you could forget all of this and go to bed but you weren’t that lucky. Paige’s phone rang and you watched as her face changed as she muttered small uh huhs.

“I’m sorry. We, uh, we need to go. Mom said the house was broken into and she just called sobbing—”

“What?”, Eddie asked with concern, immediately rising to his feet and throwing money on the table. “I can give you a ride and—”

“Y/N, will you…”

“Yeah, baby, of course.” As you started to walk away so you two could leave your ex grabbed your wrist and you noticed Eddie’s chocolate eyes shift in that direction at the action. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

“I should go with you. As your boyfriend—”

“You are not my boyfriend.”, you growled as you leaned in so hopefully only he would hear. “Just because we’ve been hanging out and I brought you along doesn’t mean we’re suddenly back together. You fucking hurt me, remember? Now, let me go.”

“Son, she said let her go. I highly recommend you do that.”

At Eddie’s words, a warmth flowed through you, thankful he was still willing to protect you.

“We will talk later.”

“Noted.”, you sass as you pull your arm from his grasp.

***

“They…they took the fucking TV and…broke the window…”, Paige’s mom sobbed to the police as you guys entered her home.

“Jesus.”, Eddie exhaled as he took in the damage. The whole house was trashed with all her belongings tossed every which way. The front lock had been picked at but due to the deadbolt they decided to climb through the window instead. “Ava, are you ok?”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she continued to cry as he tenderly petted her head.

“Everything’s ok. You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you.”

As he mumbled his comforts, his eyes met yours and you hastily shifted your gaze before following after your friend up the stairs to her former bedroom.

“They took the tv in here and some of my jewelry.”, she sighed. “Fucking assholes.”

“I’m sorry, Paige.”

You listened as heavy boots bounded up the stairs and detoured into a different room. Following the sound, you two found Eddie sifting through some dressers.

“They took the watch my uncle gave me. Goddamn it.”, he grumbled as he tossed some things a bit forcefully back in their places.

“I’m going to go tell the police what’s missing.”, she relays as she exits the room.

This was your first time being in this area of the house and you couldn’t help but imagine what Eddie’s life was like when he was living here with Ava and Paige. You pictured a younger version of him happily holding her and kissing her good morning. A toddler with his curls running in to shake him awake so they could watch Saturday morning cartoons. Eddie laughing and content with a life he deserves.

“You shouldn’t let him grab you like that.”

“Huh?”, you ask, his voice shaking you from your fog.

“Brad, your boyfriend or Daddy or whatever.”

“He’s not my Daddy.”

“Hm, seemed pretty comfortable with the title. You shouldn’t let him grab you the way he did.”

“I didn’t let him and do you really want to talk about this now? With your wife downstairs?”

“Ex wife.”, he sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “Plus, the only man that matters in her life is here so…I’m no longer needed. Story of my life.”

“I DO need you, Eddie. That’s the problem!”, you hiss as you take a step toward him. “I need to feel you hold me at night and to see your face when I wake up in the morning. I need to kiss you whenever I please and cling to you when I’ve had a bad day. I need to cheer you on during your matches and dance with me during my office Christmas parties.”, you laugh breathily as you try to control your emotions. “I need to know that if our apartment got broken into, you’d comfort me the same way you just comforted her. But we can’t…we can’t so we might as well stop fucking pretending.”

########################

“Alright, Ed. I got a new kid training here. Would you mind showing him some moves and sparing a bit?”, Eddie’s coach asked, giving the man pause as he lowers his arms from the bag he was punching.

“Yeah sure, no problem.”

“Wonderful! Brad this is Eddie Munson. Eddie this is Brad.”

When your ex stepped forward with a big grin and extended his hand, it took all of the metalhead’s energy not to sock him then and there.

“Oh yeah, you’re Y/N’s friend.”

“Boyfriend. Yeah, when I saw you up there kicking ass I thought ‘Man, that’s amazing. I need to look into boxing myself.’”, he laughs obnoxiously as Eddie tries to hide his contempt, jumping into the ring.

After quickly showing him some maneuvers, he allows the boy to lightly swing against his gloves as he holds up his fists.

“So, how did everything go with your wife and her house?”

‘Ex wife. She’s, uh, she’s ok. A lot of stuff was taken and they don’t think we’ll be seeing it again.”

“Ex wife, huh. I thought Tina was your wife so I was kind of surprised when Paige said her mom’s house was broken into. Must have been kind of weird to bring a date to dinner with us being there to. Should have probably been a family thing.”

“Well, I mean, Paige and Y/N really care about each other. My daughter took her in a few months ago when she had nowhere to go.”

Brad laughed as he took a swing, punching Eddie’s glove a bit too hard and causing the man to wince.

“She had somewhere to go but she chose to leave. We had a nice little apartment before our breakup. I told her we should talk it out but—”

As your ex swung, the boxer dodged and firmly pushed his fist aside.

“But what? What happened that made her leave?”

“Nothing, dude. As I’m sure you noticed she can be a real pain in the ass. I got tired of it.”

“How so?”, Eddie asks as the man swings again and misses.

“Verbally, I can be a dick sometimes. We…were fighting about some girl I hung out with and she accused me of cheating. I told her if I had I deserved it.”

“Deserved what?”, the man growls trying to hide the anger in his tone.

“To be with a woman I can actually lift and toss around the room. Baby girl likes it rough but it’s hard to be Daddy when I can’t fully get into it ya know—”

Blocking the light shot Brad took, Eddie reared his arm back and hit him square in the nose, satisfied at the sound of his body slumping to the mat.

***

“EDWARD MUNSON, I KNOW YOU’RE THERE! OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!”, you bellowed as your fists banged on his door.

As soon as it was even a crack open, you flew in like a bat out of hell, pointing your index finger at him as you continued to shout.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?! How dare you punch Brad like that! You’ve been doing this for 10 years! You could have killed him!”

“And he’d deserve it.”, he replied nonchalantly as he leaned his back against the now closed front door behind him.

“You had no right to do that!”

“Maybe but I don’t regret it.”

Grunting in frustration, you stomped towards him and pushed at his chest.

“Fuck you! First you invite us to dinner and your match and then you knock him out?! Just leave me the fuck alone!”

Swiftly catching your arm, he pushes you away from him, gaining the upper hand as he moves forward to glare down at you.

“YOU disappeared on me with no warning. I deserved an explanation! Which is why I invited you and that fucking douchebag to dinner with Paige. HE showed up at the gym all on his own. I didn’t fucking invite him nor did I ever want to have anything to do with him! I heard him call himself Daddy and you didn’t correct him. Made me sick to my fucking stomach.”

While he spoke, you continued to try and hit or push his chest but he remained steadfast as he used his broad features to walk you backward.

“I still played fucking nice and taught him some things but your idiot likes to talk. He disrespected you so I fucking hit him.”

“I don’t need you to defend me! I can take care of myself, Eddie Munson!”

“HEY!”, he shouted, startling you as you froze in place. The boxer however didn’t stop his motion continuing to push you back causing you to stumble a bit over your feet. “What did I tell you, little girl? I’m Mr. Munson now.” As your back hits the wall, his fingers pinch your cheeks forcing you to face him. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Fuck…you…” His chocolate brown eyes burned into yours as if daring you to push. You were angry and hurting and as you glared back you could tell he was to so you tapped into a side of yourself you hadn’t in a while. “Eddie.”

The speed at which his palm grabbed your throat was dizzying as he tugged you with ease and pushed your front half over the back of his couch.

“You want to be fucking sassy and talk back, little girl. That’s fine. I’ll show you what happens to bad girls who don’t listen.”

Keeping his hand firmly against the back of your neck, he effortlessly yanked down your sweats and spanked your behind a couple of times in quick succession.

“Maybe you two belong together since you’re so disrespectful to.” Pulling down your panties, his palm smacked your flesh hard and you couldn’t do anything to contain the low moan that left your lips. “You play with the grownups, sweetheart, this is what happens. Brad learned that the hard way.”

A dark chuckle you had never heard from him before followed another few hard spanks to your behind.

“God, look at you, Y/N. Did your Daddy ever make you this wet when he spanked you?”

“N-Not…not my Daddy…”

“Why didn’t you correct him then huh? You had no problem cutting him off he said he was your boyfriend which by the way he still thinks he is.”, Eddie replied in a calm but loaded with sass tone.

“Doesn’t matter! You’re…you’re not mine…”

He spanks you again much harder before leaning over you till his lips were hovering over your ear.

“It does matter because I fucking asked. Why didn’t you correct him?”

“What’s the fucking point!?”, you shout as you crane your neck to look his way. “All you men think whatever the fuck you want anyway! So fucking selfish!”

“I’m selfish?!”, he growls through gritted teeth as he hits you again before pressing two of his fingers into your dripping hole. “Who disappeared? Who refused to answer my calls? Who left me out here fucking wondering while you were spending time with her ex! Who let him touch her during my fight knowing I’d see? Who referred to him as Daddy when she was calling another man that not even a couple of weeks ago?!”

Your eyes fluttered as his pace quickened and you struggled to catch your breath. As you teetered over the edge though, he promptly pulled away and spanked you again.

“No! No, please—”

“Oh, please now, huh, little girl? When you were so fucking sassy before.”

Falling to his knees, he hit your flesh again before his hand kneaded your plump behind exposing your pussy to him as his tongue licked a stripe between your folds.

“I…I…I was…lonely…he was there.”

“Was he now? I was there to.”

Eddie’s tongue always had you coming undone like no man before him ever could. You desperately wanted to run your fingers through his hair but you felt like if you did, he’d push you away.

“No…you weren’t. I m-m-meant what I said. I—fuck—I need you, Eddie.” You gasped as he hit your ass again and rose to his feet to thrust his fingers inside of you, bringing you to the edge before taking it all way. “PLEASE!”

“Who am I?!”

“Daddy!”

“Not anymore, little girl.”

You backed your body into his, shoving him away as you ran towards his bedroom. He caught up with you quickly, tackling you onto his bed as you both wrestled against each other.

“What do you care?! You still have your wife!”

Eddie’s jaw clenched as he took off his shirt and easily pushed your wrists together to bind them with the fabric above your head.

“I’m fucking tired of correcting people. Ava is my ex. Ex, ex, EX WIFE! We are getting a fucking divorce! Like you she chose another man over me!!”

Your eyes widened as you looked up him as the realization of what he was saying washed over you.

“You know how that feels don’t you, little girl? Brad told me about you being upset he was spending so much time with some other woman. Practically boasted about how he deserved it. Do you know why he felt that way?”

Your eyes closed as turned your head but he was quick to grab your cheeks and forced you to look at him.

“Yeah…motherfucker told me out right so I knocked that asshole out. I’m not like him, Y/N. I’m a real man who has no problem with your size. Never even really noticed if I’m being honest.”

With ease, he lifts you up and turns you onto your tummy before laying his entire body over yours. Keeping a firm hand on the back of your neck, he sloppily pulls down the shorts he was wearing and you listen as he spits into his hand followed by the schlick sound of him stroking his cock.

Eddie’s knee forces your legs open a bit more and you both groan when you feel him gradually guide himself inside you.

“Jesus, this pussy is too good.”, he grunts as he sets a vigorous pace that overwhelms you, in a good or bad way, you aren’t sure.

“Mr. Munson…I…Daddy… please.”

He hears it immediately, the strain in your voice. His broken heart tells him to ignore it. You hurt him so it’s only fair that you hurt to and you hadn’t said the safe word so why stop. But his care for you in general and his upbringing wins the internal battle in mind as he stops moving and reaches up to move your hair away from your face.

“Are you ok, sweetheart? Talk to me, baby.” Your words from your first night together echo in his head and as carefully as he can, Eddie pulls out and lays beside you, turning you on to your side facing him as he reaches up to remove his shirt tied around you. “Was Daddy too rough?”

At his words, you wrap your arms around him and cling to him, tangling your fingers in his hair as you cry.

“T-That morning after you spent the night, I woke u-up alone a-a-and it killed me. I’m so sorry. I should h-have talked to you but I thought maybe if I made the move first, y-you’d be ok. I didn’t mean to hurt you—”

“Shhh… it’s ok, baby. Everything’s ok. I understand why you would feel that way but you’re right. You should have talked to me.”

“He’s not Daddy, I swear. He-he called himself that and when he said it I saw your face in my head. I-I was going to correct him but you came out and you l-looked so heartbroken.”

“Yeah…I didn’t think hearing that would hit me as hard as it did…”

When you lift your leg over his hip, his heavy sigh fans your face as his cock grazes your warm, pussy lips. The palm he had resting on your lower back pushed you closer to him before reaching between your bodies to guide himself into you again.

“What hurt even more was watching him—mmph fuck—grab you the way he did. I wanted to f-fucking kill him.”

With your forehead resting on his, your hands clung to his head just below his ears as you watched his face scrunch in a mixture of anger and pleasure.

“Y-You almost did.”, you pant as a little giggle emits from your mouth and his eyes meet yours. “That’s what h-he says. You broke his nose.”

A rough hand holds the underside of your thigh as your cheek rests on his other arm. As he surges forward to kiss you, you relish in the taste as you hold him tightly and he grunts in ecstasy at your body against his once more.

“Y-You deserve better than that prick.”

“I deserve you. Fuck—Mister…Mister—”

“Daddy, baby. I’m your fucking Daddy.”, Eddie growls through clenched teeth as he interlocks his limbs behind your back and hugs you tighter to him as he thrusts into you.

“You’re…my… Da-Daddy. Shit, M’gonna cum.”

“That’s fucking right, little girl. I’m going to make sure you don’t forget. I’m gonna fill this pussy up and you’re going to be feeling me for days. Now you and that fucker will be sore because of me… Goddamn it.”

You whimpered into his shoulder as the coil snapped and you came hard, your body trembling against him as he continued to cling to you. After a few seconds and a couple more rough pumps you felt his release spill deep inside you, warming your insides in the best possible way.

You both held onto each other, unwilling to let the other go until he felt you lightly peck the base of your neck and released you from his hold as he sat up.

As he was about to fully stand to find a rag to clean you with, you grasped his shoulder, silently asking him to stay.

“About five years ago, I started gaining some real traction at being a boxer. People were starting to notice including legitimate managers and agents who wanted me to fight their boxers. One of my first fights, I won over two grand. Two grand, Y/N.”, he smiles your way as you scoot closer to him and place your hand on his back. “I put that away for Paige, you know. I was finally able to really contribute to her college fund we had started. And, sweetheart, you should have seen her when she would watch me train. Her little eyes would light up and she would mimic my swings…”

When his voice broke at the memory, you tenderly kissed his skin but he quickly got to his feet and took your hand, guiding you to his bathroom where he placed you in front of the mirror. You watched in the reflection as his eyes scanned you over before reaching for a rag, dampening it with water, and took a seat on the edge of the tub, maneuvering you between his legs.

You winced slightly as he ran the material over your behind and between your own legs.

“Do you need ice or anything?”

“No, Daddy.”, you whisper and he curtly nods as he tosses the towel behind him.

“I was working a lot and then training at night. I would take fights on the weekend and make sure it didn’t interfere with any holidays or big events. I’m not quite sure when Ava started changing. I think it was after Paige graduated… I cut back my hours at the shop and focused more on boxing. She kept insisting it was a mid-life crisis or some bullshit. That I needed to give it up and focus on getting my life together…

We fought a lot… said so many mean things to each other… One day things got really intense and she kept pushing me to hit her. I told her that I’m not my father and she said I may as well be with how I was taking care of my family.”

Eddie growled as he shook his head, taking your palm and sitting you down on the bed. He disappeared down his hallway and returned with a bundle of clothes in his hands.

“A little over a year and a half ago, I came home and caught her…fucking that asshole Dominic. I kicked him out and told her to end it. She said she’d stop seeing him if I stopped boxing…so I left. I tried, Y/N. We went to counseling, I took her on dates like we used to, I even did put boxing on the back burner…lost a big sponsorship deal…but she still kept seeing him. I filed for divorce a few months later.”

As he glances down towards the fabric in his hands, you realize he’s grasping your own clothes. Holding the elastic band of your sweats open, he waits for you to stick your feet in but you don’t move.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that, Eddie?”

The long-haired boy taps your calf, signaling for you to put your legs in again but you pull them together and cross your legs as you wait for his answer.

“Paige doesn’t know and I’d rather it stay that way.”

“So it’s ok for you to get hurt?”

“My daughter has a close relationship with her mother and I’m not going to ruin that by telling her things she doesn’t need to know anyway. Put your legs in your fucking pants, Y/N.”

“No. Did you think I would immediately run and tell her? That’s not my place, Edward.”, you sneer before his eyes lock with yours.

“Don’t fucking call me that. Ava does it when she’s being petty because she knows my dad always called me Edward. Don’t do that.”

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just… I don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me all this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your douchebag?”

“That we were talking again or that we broke up because he was flirting with other women and made a demeaning crack about my size?”

“Let’s just say both for the moment.”

Eddie rolls his eyes as you reach for his shirt near the other side of the bed and pull it over your head.

“I wasn’t actively searching to speak to him. He texted me the other week and said he wanted to talk. I thought…since I couldn’t have you…maybe I could see what Brad wanted. See if he changed at all…”, you sighed. “Before that, I had been spending girl’s nights alone with Paige crying over ‘boxer guy’. That’s what she calls—”

“I know. She told me. She also told me that you had been hurting… It had been a while since I felt helpless like that. Paige told me you were crying and in pain yet you wouldn’t answer my messages…”

“When it comes to our past, I don’t know, I just never had a reason to tell you I guess.”, you shrug.

Standing to his full height, Eddie tossed your things on the floor and pointed towards his bedroom door.

“If you’re going to lie to me, you may as well leave.”

It was your turn to glare his way but he matched your determined energy.

“I got self-conscious, alright?”, you sass. “While I am fairly confident and don’t give a damn what people think of me…when it comes to men…sometimes…I get insecure. Plus, believe it or not, when he said that, it was the first time negatively mentioning my body. It threw me off guard and genuinely hurt me. Kind of felt like how I imagine it did when you socked him.”

After taking a seat beside you, it took him a moment before he circled his arm around your shoulders and pulled you to his side.

“Were you really mad at me for hitting him?”

“No.”, you giggle making him smile as he laughs through his nose. “Do you hate me now?”

“No.”, Eddie murmurs, shaking his head. “I wasn’t too rough or mean or anything right? It was a lot of emotion built up and… I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N, in any way, shape, or form.”

“No, you weren’t too rough or mean. I don’t want to hurt you either. I meant what I said though. I need you, Eddie. We can’t hide forever… I mean…if you want me back. I-I-I understand if you don’t—”

Strong fingers grip your chin as the boxer turns your head so his lips can connect with yours.

“I like you a lot, sweetheart. I’ve never had feelings for anyone the way I do you but I need you to understand that these next few months are going to be rough. Ava and I have a hearing to finalize some things with our divorce, I have a couple of big fights coming up, and Paige is graduating soon. I don’t want to overshadow her.”

“I understand. I have some things happening to with my job and then next month my mom is coming down to meet Paige as well as help me look for an apartment.”

“You don’t want to live with Paige anymore?”

“It’s not that. I just… I was thinking…if I had my own place, you could sleep over and I can do things like make you dinner or take care of you after a fight…”

“How about we stick to our original plan? Take things slow and go from there. I promise, Y/N, you’re my girl if you want to be.”

Eddie grins as you laugh, his eyes absorbing the sight as you practically glow with giddiness.

“You’re girl? You said that like some black and white sitcom from the 60s. I didn’t realize you were that old.”

“Wow, rude.”, he teases as he cups your cheek and pushes you back against his bed.

“Tina’s not your girl?”

“No, baby, Tina’s not my girl. She’s a friend I met a few years ago. I told her I needed a date and she obliged but other than that… What, um, what are you going to tell your douchebag?”

You giggle at his term and lean up to quickly peck his lips before answering.

“The truth. That we are not together and after the last few days I think we should just continue staying away from each other.”

“Do you want me there? You’re not afraid of him or anything right?”

“No, Daddy, but thank you for offering to keep me safe.”

##################

@dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @micheledawn1975 @hardladyheart @chelebelletx @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paleidiot @alphabetically-deranged @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @yesimabratandwhataboutot @idkwhattoputhere08 @gryffindorqueensworld @mewchiili @veemoon @heavenlyhorrors @twirls827 @jamiecb66 @chelebelletx @longpondlibrary @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @hellv1ra @utterlyinsanity @eddiesclub @wiinterwiidow @stylesxmunson

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itsanerdlife · 4 months ago

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Rumors

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

The struggle of living in a small town, rumors run faster than the truth ever could.

“Nah, swear up and down, blue in the face, she was with Rogers last night.”

“Saw her car leaving Rogers’ drive around one this morning.”

“Your girl was with your best friend all night? Man, that ain’t right.”

Four years down the drain. The only woman he could ever love, caught with his best friend. World shattering news coming from around the small town they grew up in. Losing his best friend and the love of his life.

Packing up his truck he didn’t bother to say goodbye to anyone. Leaving behind his phone and no note of where he would be going.

Without waiting to hear the news.

Without confronting either of them.

Three years later

“Don’t forget to sign the card on the counter.” I call into the kitchen, at the two brothers making breakfast.

“On it!” Howie calls back.

“Sign my name too.” I hear Peter comment.

“We might be twins, but I’m not forging your signature asshole.” Howie retorts.

Shaking my head, I continue to grab up baby toys off the floor, tossing them into the toy bin on the edge of the rug.

“Ohhhhhh.” AJ coos at his uncles.

“Yeah, no cussing in front of the baby.” Peter scolds Howie. “Tell uncle Howie, he’s being bad.” Peter snickers.

“Naughty.” AJ agrees.

“Don’t teach him anything more damaging, I already have to explain the peeing outside thing to Miss. Ivy, he peed in her potted plants outside her shop.” I huff, coming into the kitchen with them.

Both my brothers cringe, AJ grins proudly.

Jet black hair cut short, dark blue eyes, chunky cheeks from baby fat still. He’s a smaller version of his father almost to the T. Aside from the darkness of his blue eyes.

The father that left town without a word. Without a second thought. Without knowing about him. Small town rumors and he split without even a goodbye.

Fuck Bucky.

He missed out.

I smile at my son. Who grins back.

“Momma, we, we, we go to Nana’s today?” He asks excitedly.

“We’re going to Papa’s shop and than you’ll go home with Nana tonight.” I nod, reminding him.

“Momma work tonight?” His head tips.

“Yeah, momma works tonight.” I sigh, shrugging. “But that means, I wake up in the morning and we’ll have a big family breakfast with your uncles and your nana and papa.” I remind him.

“I spend the night with Papa?” He lights up.

“Don’t you let him teach you no more bad habits. He’s still in trouble for teaching you to burp your ABC’s.” I give him a stern look.

“So gross.” Howie sighs.

“I puked on G.” AJ admits, his little shoulders coming up to his ears.

“We remember little man.” Peter chuckles.

AJ goes about eating his eggs and toast.

“No burping.” Howie points a finger at him. AJ sighs in disappointment. I snort into my coffee cups, rolling my eyes.

------

“How old is he now?” Gwen the other bartender grins at the photo on my phone.

“We’re turning three in two weeks.” I grin as I lock my phone and slip it into my back pocket.

“Feels like just last week Peter was running around with newborn photos and listing off his stats like he was the hottest rookie to come off the bench.” She laughs, grabbing three beers from the cooler.

“He still does that, let’s not pretend he didn’t want to throw a party cause AJ was successfully potty trained at sixteen months.” Shaking my head, I rinse the cocktail shaker out in the sink under the bar.

“I mean at least he’s not missing out on any love.” She gives me a soft smile.

Nodding slowly. Only a few people actually knew who AJ’s father was. Most people still decided to believe and fuel the rumor mill.

“Yup. Guess good enough is enough.” I nod, my tone slightly bitter. I can’t help it. I hate it, but I can’t help it.

AJ was missing out, because his father chose to believe the rumor mill of our small town instead of trusting me.

Friday nights I worked the night shift at the bar, to help pad out being a single mom and keeping my kid comfortable.

It’s a typical Friday in the bar.

A familiar laugh, slithers down my spine.

“Damn been a long time since we’ve seen your ugly mug.” Sam Wilson greets someone.

The laugh comes again. “Life was good without seeing your big ass forehead.”

My heart races, palms slick, my chest grows tight.

“Y/N?” Gwen is watching me. My whole body jumps, causing me to drop a beer bottle. It shatters, the noise gaining attention.

“Fuck.” I shuffle back.

My eyes connect with winter blue ones, watching me. Shocked to see me. A flicker of anger still there.

“Oh honey, are you okay?” My head snaps to the side. My mom, Pepper Stark stands in the opening to the back, with my son on her hip.

“Mom?” I blink at her.

“I know I normally call, but he had a full melt down about going to bed without a kiss from you.” She bounces AJ on her hip. He’s tucked against her.

“Oh I’m so sorry.” I turn hurrying to scoop him up.

“Always night, night kisses.” He mumbles, completely distraught.

“Yes, always. I know, I know.” I squeeze him to me, kissing him over and over on his cheeks and forehead. Finally, he starts to giggle as I sway with him.

“Better?” I ask him. He nods slowly, still snuggled into me.

“Who that momma?” He wonders, looking down at him, he’s peeked up, watching someone off to the side.

Looking over, I find what has my son’s attention, not what, but who.

Bucky.

Staring at us.

“Mom, take him.” I hurry handing back my son to my mother. “No more fussing, go to bed like a big boy for Nana.” I lean in kissing him. He huffs but nods.

“Night momma.” He pouts.

“Night baby.” I give a small wave as my mother hurries away with my son.

“Y/N?” He’s suddenly right at the bar. Sucking in a deep breathe. I shift to face the man that abandoned me and his son. His jet black hair a little shaggy, scruffy jaw line, and wide winter blue eyes.

“What do you want James?” I snap at him.

“Is that, that my son?” He points towards where my mother had been standing.

“No that’s my son.” I correct him.

“Y/N? Seriously.” He stares at me.

“Why don’t you go listen to the rumor mill to find out.” I sneer at him. I stalk away, leaving him standing there.

-------- Everything Peaches 9/21/24 @mo320 @ml7010 @kmc1989 @babizza @coley0823 @royal-sunflower @camelliasblossom @shinycupcakebaker @purpleeclipseeggsland @daughterofthenight117 @hisredheadedgoddess28

Bucky 'Fuck Me Up' Barnes: @jbbarnesgirl @kaylaphantomhive

#Marvel #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Avengers #Bucky x Reader #Marvel Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes One Shot #Avengers Fanfiction #Bucky AU One Shot

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diagonal-queen · 1 year ago

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HELLO!! i keep requesting them sotty im obsessed but what about hunting dogs with a s/o who has a child😅😅i got silly again

Hunting Dogs with your child

♡ pairing: Fukuchi Ouchi, Jouno Saigiku, Tecchou Suehiro, Teruko Okura (platonic), Tachihara Michizou x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: How do these goofballs fare as stepdads? (or, in Teruko's case, fun auntie?)

♡ cw: Swearing, unofficial stepfathering, unrealistically good stepfathering, reader's ex situation is not established but it's assumed that their baby momma/daddy is not in the picture (Tachihara), mentions of violence

note: I just haven't written anything in ages, and for that I apologise. Wow, being in university is time consuming! I've had block for months and it's been an absolute pain in the arse but I'm back babey! Keep your requests coming anon- I am the Hunting Dogs whisperer and I will write them till I die. Apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Fukuchi:

My dude is so so so enthusiastic. You mean to tell him that he gets a beautiful loving partner AND a new little guy to hang out with?? Sign him tf up

This man buys your kid so many presents it's genuinely concerning. Your child is spoilt to hell and back by Fukuchi. You need to discourage him from this behaviour STAT

He constantly uses dad words like 'buddy' and 'pal' and 'kiddo' to refer to your kid and they eventually start responding to these nicknames lol

He would totally also do dad stances and just embrace the fatherly aura that is slowly overtaking him day by day (bro starts falling asleep on the couch while the game's on at 9pm)

He's actually surprisingly gentle with your child. If they cry he'll pick them up and comfort them very well. He's like a whole different person when your kid is scared or sad- it's the cutest thing ever

If your child ever gets him a Fathers' Day present he'll probably cry like old man tears of joy. In fact if your child ever does anything nice for him he'll be incredibly touched. Kinda reminds him what he's doing his job for :')

Tells your child great exaggerated (CHILD FRIENDLY) stories about his heroic achievements as a soldier before bed. It's genuinely super cute you guys

If the kid ever runs up to him in excitement when he arrives home in the evening he returns the energy and is like 'omg there they are! that's my kiddo! how have you been??' and picks them up and AUGH they're so cute

Just....🥺🥺

Jouno:

Your child is probably scared of him at first. Within their first meeting he probably makes them cry.

Sorry y'all 😭 but he doesn't exactly come off as much of a teddy bear...and nor does he really act like one with anyone else other than you in private

Jouno just isn't good with kids. Not in the sense that he's scared of them but that he doesn't really know how to interact with them without being intimidating or otherwise just detached

But he really loves you, and he wants to be a good parental figure to your kid, so he tries to warm them up to him by getting them a gift. That probably helps- he might not know much about kids but he's right to assume that they fucking love receiving gifts

Whatever your child's hobbies/interests are, Jouno genuinely does try to connect with them over it, and after a while it does work.

Soon enough your child and Jouno are inseparable and your child is spewing sadistic military rhetoric and oh dear god you've made a terrible mistake introducing the two of them

Yeah, Jouno probably teaches your kid all KINDS of horrible things. He will tell your child stories about times he's tortured suspects, or slaughtered gangs, and just stuff that is not family friendly. You have to nip that behaviour in the bud or else...

He's generally pretty good at taking care of your child, but like, if your kid cried because they were scared there was a monster under the bed, Jouno would probably be like "Yeah. There is. Good luck." and then turn off the lights and leave 💀

Just give him time. He'll learn how to be an emotionally available parent at SOME point

Tecchou:

He's not the step dad. He's the dad that stepped up

Tecchou is definitely very aloof and awkward around your child- like, he knows how to interact with you, but children are different. Children are frightening. And they are his biggest fear maybe

In spite of this, he is fiercely protective of your kid. He will make sure that child is as safe and calm as possible at all times, and he certainly prefers to show that he cares through actions rather than words.

He usually wouldn't initiate physical contact with your child but if they hugged him he would hug back, if they gave him a hi-five he would do it back, etc etc. he will never let your kid down

If your child likes make belief, you can bet you'd walk into a room and find your kid all dressed up, off their rocker in full theatre mode, while Tecchou is sitting on the floor, also dressed up, but looking more depressed than ever before

Save him from your baby. They are taking YEARS off his life

He probably accidentally sends your kid to hospital at some point because he cooked for them. Damnit Tecchou, how don't you realise that a child's stomach wouldn't be able to handle a combination of chocolate and beef

It's okay though, he does learn from this. Plus, he takes care of your child and buys them presents and hangs out with them until they're better <3

He might not join your child in the ball pit, but he would watch them swim around in there with the softest, faintest, most affectionate smile on his face. And that is all that matters folks

Teruko (platonic):

The funnest, meanest, coolest auntie ever

Teruko will lead your child down a dreadful path. Limit their visits to holidays and birthdays for your own sake and the sake of your young one

She's really more than happy to negatively influence look after your child if you need her to though, and they love her because she's super chill and lets them get away with all kinds of things (that aren't violent crimes against humanity)

Your parent says one cookie after dinner? Screw it, have six. I won't tell if you won't. - Teruko, probably

She uses her ability to entertain your kid sometimes- usually she'll decrease her age so she can join them in things like building pillow forts and playing on jungle gyms

I'm just picturing them playing at the park and some concerned parent coming up to them asking where their guardian is and Teruko just fucking transforms into a grown woman on the spot and goes 'WHO'S ASKING' 😭

Teruko is a super cool fun aunt. But she is very wise, and she really will give your kid good life advice on occasion.

She'll also cheer them up when they're feeling down, and if they're feeling scared she helps them step out of their comfort zones and confront their fears (in a safe way!!)

If your kid is like, getting picked on at school or something, Teruko will nag you to phone their school about it. If you don't, she does. If they don't do anything about it, she does. Bottom line is NOBODY fucks with your kid when Teruko is around

I guess technically she really is scary dog privilege lmao

Tachihara:

Help he's so nervous at first? Tachihara this is a child, not a wise sage- you can be normal around them

He just wants to make a good impression on the child okay he's doing his best

But (obviously) your kid immediately loves him, and thinks he's the coolest guy ever, and wants to hang out with him all the time

Tachihara has a bit of a concern that the kid will think that he's trying to replace their other parent, which is fair, but it's unfounded because your child absolutely adores him and does not care about that at all

If your child ever calls him 'Dad' watch his soul fucking transcend to a new plane, he's so surprised and honoured that this beautiful person's child would consider him their parent

Your kid has Tachihara wrapped around their tiny finger. He will oblige them with anything- if you've got a toddler who likes uppies and piggybacks, say your prayers for Tachihara's upper arm and back muscles because he will carry them for hours

You really need him to stop leaving weaponry around the house, though- the absolute HEART ATTACK you had when you saw your precious baby carrying around an unloaded pistol

Also, Tachihara, babe, STOP SWEARING SO MUCH AROUND THE BABY. I CAN'T HAVE MY KID SAYING 'FUCK' TO STRANGERS - you, probably

Doesn't really ever talk about his job(s) with your kid, all they know is that he 'kills bad guys', and they think that's cool as fuck

He's not perfect, sure. But he is trying so hard to be The Perfect Parent™ and, more importantly, he loves your child to bits

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen

of course, thank you to anon for this req!

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cambion-companion · 1 year ago

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So a good point was brought up on one of my Raphael poll posts.

What exactly has he accomplished?

The man is a cambion. The outcasts of devil society. Usually such half-breeds are canon fodder for Zariel's armies. Some of them escape that bleak outlook and make something for themselves. However they always remain under the dictatorship of a higher devil. Not Raphael. Who is he beholden to? Himself. That's very unique.

Raphael is the son of an arch devil. You'd think that gives him an advantage. Perhaps. I also think it is a severe detriment. Because he is, quintessentially, a bastard.

Raphael has been hustling and busting his devil ass to accumulate power and wealth all his own. He can even turn into an ascended fiend form which is literally unheard of in cambion circles (thanks Larian).

I mean hell, his own father had to send a personal incubus to spy on Raphael and prevent him from power grabbing so much. Did it work? NO!

As if his stats aren't enough of a giveaway, this guy isn't your normal half-fiend.

I'd also be remiss not to mention cambions do not increase in power the same way normal devils do. For all intents and purposes, they're stuck. They do not advance. Raphael has.

#raphael #bg3 #cambion thoughts #baldur's gate 3 #discourse #fandom #raphael the cambion #dnd hells

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adachimoe · 2 months ago

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Investigation Team stuff from the dev corner in Persona Club P4

This was originally worded as a QA but I simplified it down to just what the dev responses were

Protag:

In Chie's SLink, the protag offers to "Do an impression of another Takeshi". In English, this was translated as "tell a joke". The "other Takeshi" is referring to Beat Takeshi / Takeshi Kitano.

The protag keeps a porno mag stash "that thing" under his futon. "That thing" remains under his futon even when he sleeps on top of it. Perhaps that's why he has random dreams about a random Social Link sometimes...

The protag isn't used to cooking since he has lived with his parents until shortly before the game started, but he's fairly good at it. Motherly, if you will.

The protagonist's knitting ability didn't improve much even after the ending of Kanji's rank 10 where he teaches him how to make a (frilly) animal oven mitt. The devs assume Kanji would like to keep teaching him, but the protag probably isn't interested in it. (In one of the dungeon chats with Kanji and Yosuke, it's mentioned that Tatsumi-ya sells frilly potholders, and the devs parenthesis'd the frilly part here in their response, suggesting the one the protag made with Kanji was also frilly. Show us the frilly animal potholder that the protagonist made, Atlus.)

Yosuke:

One of the cut scenes from P4 was Yosuke riding his bike right into the Samegawa

When Chie bought clothes w/Yosuke's money, she dipped into his scooter funds, so Chie thinks she did him a solid b/c scooter = dangerous (Book was from before Golden)

Yosuke dislikes tofu cause he thinks it's bland. He dislikes konjac jelly for the same reason.

He listens to popular and/or catchy music

Jiraiya's luck stat being so low is because the man is unlucky / has shit timing.

Chie:

Cats, such as the one on the school roof, are attracted to Chie because she smells like meat and/or carries around meat-related snacks

Aside from meat, Chie loves junk food like the croquette from Souzai and sweets/snacks from Shiroku

Chie's "club" is her practicing her own style of kung fu which she calls the Kung Fu Research Club. But on rainy days, it instead turns into the Meat Research Club.

Chie likes kung fu because she grew up around boys and watched stuff made for boys

Yukiko:

Yukiko doesn't like standing out, but wears red because Chie told her it looks good (iirc Yukiko says this if you pick her to go skiing with in Golden, but this book is from like 4 years before Golden)

Yukiko is banned from going grocery shopping because she mixes up all of the ingredients (when you meet her in Portable, she offers to help Kasai go grocery shopping, and Kasai is like "uhhhhhhhh")

Originally her rank 10 romance slink was going to uhh get pretty suggestive when the protag invited her on to his futon

Kanji:

Kanji picked out his necklace because he thought it was cool and he had no idea that it was a locket until his mom told him. Instead of perhaps a photo of his dead father, Atlus believes he's the kind of guy who would keep a photo of cute cat as like a mental wellness thing.

Kanji doesn't want to join the arts and crafts club at school cause he knows that his presence would frighten/upset the members, but he ironically has no idea that him standing outside their club room and staring in all of the time also scares the shit out of them

Kanji still hasn't figured out the answer to the "homework" that Naoto gave him, nor has Naoto told him the answer yet. (I believe this is referring to one of their dungeon chats? In the JP game, Naoto asks if Kanji has finished his "quiz" yet.)

Rise:

Rise helps out at the tofu shop mostly in the morning so she is free after school hence why she sometimes can be seen hanging around outside the store after school / on other days

Rise has been an idol for a little under 2 years. She has 2 photobooks and one of her songs was used in a CM. She doesn't have many photobooks or CDs yet cause she didn't start selling well until more recently.

Rise likes spicy food and cooks based on color rather than taste. She has tried to make red tofu before, but her grandma makes her use traditional recipes at the store.

Naoto:

Naoto isn't gifted at baking, she just made the other girls use a cookbook. (This is brought up by Rise during the Golden skiing trip, but again this book is from like 2008 or 2009.)

Naoto's real name is Naoto (gender neutral). Her parents didn't name her that way because they wanted to raise her as a boy, but rather they wanted to avoid naming her something feminine because they thought she would become a detective.

Naoto's girl uniform has a longer skirt than normal because it was picked out by Yakushiji, her grandfather's secretary.

Teddie:

Atlus has no idea how Teddie can make glasses, how his bear outfit works, or how his human form fits inside the bear. They call of this "Teddie Power" and for the bear suit, compare it to Schrodinger's Cat lol. (In the Golden fan book, they later said that Teddie makes the glasses using materials from an eyeglasses store in the TV World version of Inaba.)

Teddie has a cell phone that Yosuke bought for him. Teddie decorated out himself. Yosuke also pays for all of Teddie's other expenses, like his phone bill and his food.

Teddie mentions that since he's lived in the TV for a long time, he has ways of making himself feel at home. The devs suggest he has some kind of like, Teddie Cave or hut somewhere in the TV World that he resides in. Since getting a human form, he started living in Yosuke's closet instead. (Book was pre-Arena, before they actually showed Teddie living there lol)

Regrettably, there's no Adachi dev q+a in Persona Club P4 lol

#persona 4 #p4 #persona club p4 #yu narukami #yosuke hanamura #chie satonaka #yukiko amagi #kanji tatsumi #rise kujikawa #naoto shirogane #teddie

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ballerinagirl · 1 month ago

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Manipulated

Warnings‼️: Abuse, mentions of sex, manipulation, tampering with birth control/medication, arranged marriage ahhh story 💀, I do not condone this!

Based on a tumblr mood board i saw :3 Farmer’s daughter reader! x Henry Bowers

um um yea

The barn was your home—your soul.

You had always been your father’s daughter, helping your mother around the house and doing your chores on the farm to help your dad. They loved you dearly, so it wasn’t a shocker when they suggested about boys and whatnot.

‘Ain’t Travis a good man, ain’t he?’

Or,

‘I talked to Carter’s mother and she seems to really like you.’

But none of their suggestions seemed to work on you, so your parents had another plan to protect you.

They set you up with the sheriff’s son.

Normally this wouldn’t have been an issue, but Officer Bowers’ son was a huge dick. Especially before he graduated. The kid was known for being a heartless, cold asshole. The only reason the older man was doing this was to get Henry off his lazy ass and marry a girl instead of just sleeping around and not doing anything. Plus think of all the extra money he could spend on beer!

Butch wanted his son out of the house. stat.

So when you turned sixteen, your parents invited Butch and Henry to come over. Farmer to farmer, I guess. And that’s when they revealed the news.

You both were getting married.

At first you thought it was a joke, but as you saw the scowl on Henry’s face, you knew it wasn’t.

When you were seventeen, the wedding day came and you couldn’t have been more upset in your life. You’ve never acted so fake, but you put on a little smile while Henry got drunk.

The whole time Butch and your parents joked and laughed about you and Henry, how you both looked so cute together and how you ‘fixed’ the dirty blond.

’..You both better start on the children right now..I want a little grandson to spoil..’

You could still hear Butch’s words, snickering at the thought of having a little grandson to run around his house. The thought made you cringe, making your stomach turn.

Henry didn’t seem all too pleased either—not from the thought of having a child with you, it was from the thought of his father spoiling some little brat instead of him when he was growing up.

The night was a blur, all you remembered was driving Henry home into the house he now owned. The Bowers house.

The living room reeked of the smell of beer and cigarettes, matching the aesthetic of the pale, eerie yellow walls that were covered in Officer Bowers’ trophies—his taxidermy animals that he hunted and stuffed himself.

It reminded of when you and your dad went hunting together when you were a kid, but something told you that Henry’s dad went by himself.

The dirty blond’s words were slurred and all messed up, obviously drunk off his mind. The sweat dripped off of his forehead like little raindrops landing on bare, clean windows—the start of a rainy, cold day.

‘Mmn..Get off..’

The dirty blond whined and groaned as you helped him get onto the couch. It was hard and rough, way too uncomfortable for any normal person wanting to sit there. The old fabric had gone through a lot—considering the countless beer stains and spillage onto the poor, now ruined couch.

You still remember what you said to him, your head reeling at the past memories that seemed like forever ago but had only been a few weeks.

‘..I’m just trying to help…If you weren’t such a stubborn ass, maybe you wouldn’t have taken all those shots..’

You learned your place very quickly in the Bowers home. Your job was to not be such a horrible wife, which meant cooking, cleaning, and sometimes going out to get groceries and help on the farm. That was it.

Henry had always been keen on roles—he was the provider after all. The man of the house now. His mother was a housewife before she left him and his father, so his daddy’s rules were all he’s ever known. After his mother left, he was left to do the chores, picking up and doing her dirty work.

Maybe that’s why he was such a piece of shit, his daddy beating on him for doing the slightest thing wrong or how he was raised without a female figure in his life. No, that wasn’t the reason.

You’ve met some of the sweetest people who have gone through that stuff. People who weren’t such pieces of shit. It had to be something else, right?

Bowers had looked the same since highschool. He dressed the same, acted the same, and still had those cold, careless blue eyes that made his victims shiver every time they made eye contact with him.

His hair was even the same—his fingers would run into his dirty blond locks, still the same chin length mullet from the late eighties. You say that, but it was only four years ago. Henry still had his physique too, the abs you had seen countless times in you and his bedroom, without a care in the world or a want in your eyes. How bland. How selfish.

Some days, while Henry trained to be a police officer—you would stare at the pictures on the bookshelves of your husband as a young boy. He seemed happier, more..pure. He didn’t have that coldness in his eyes or the usual grump to his face, he had a smile. A genuine smile.

What went wrong?

You didn’t seem to know.

One day, Henry came home to dinner on the table, per usual and a stack of bills from the mailbox. He groaned as he opened them up, pulling his tie in the process. Just great.

”..We’re gon’ have to stop using the hot water so much..”

You heard him say, giving you a glare that still sent a shiver down your spine—even now after living with each other for two weeks.

”..Take too damn long in the shower, I might as well just barge in there and turn the water off..” Henry said, groaning at all the money he was going to have to spend because of you.

You hesitated to even argue with him, you didn’t want to get another bruise or a slap across the face. Or even just a scream, that still would’ve hurt too.

“What’re we gonna do then..?”

You muttered to him, staring at the white, flowery table cloth that covered the old wooden table. God, this had to be as old as Butch.

“..I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do. You’re going to wait to shower til’ I get home and I’ll take it with you..”

The words that came out of Henry’s mouth didn’t shock you, always so cold and rough, his tone hinting with carelessness. You and your husband had seen each other naked before, sleeping together in the same bed but never showing any affection or sensuality.

You didn’t care, you never wanted to be with this man. Not like you had a choice anyway.You just shared the same bed and lived together. Nothing more, nothing less.

‘..Henry, I miss you baby..-‘

Your voice replayed in Henry’s head, the one that he hated with a passion had somehow now..aroused him. He watched as you crawled on top of him, having your hair in a high messy bun and your body just covered in see through fabric that Henry could practically tear off. Keep calm, Henry. You’re fine, you’re fine.

Then why are you acting like such a fool?

The dirty blond let out a loud sigh, his legs slightly trembling while he stared into those pretty little eyes of yours. His hands were rough compared to the skin of your waist, so calloused and dirty on your soft skin. It almost felt wrong to touch you like this. So impure, so unhealthy.

Henry leaned his head back as soon as he felt your legs wrapped around his waist, the back of his head hitting against the soft, mushy pillows that he could only wish were your thighs. The dirty blond watched as your gentle touch unbuckled his belt, slowly but surely coming undone like a hard knot in one’s shoelaces.

His blue hues caught you looking back at him, a stupid little grin across your pretty face—one that he didn’t seem to recognize. This was so unlike you. This was so unlike Henry. He had never, ever, wanted you like this before. He had no desire to. You both were just forced into marrying each other.

But now, Henry felt something different—something similar to the feeling of when he had his first kiss or the very few memories of his mother when he was a young boy.

Your touch affected him, sending shivers down his spine as he waited for you to pull down his jeans and boxers. Such a needy little thing, ain’t he? And when you finally got to it, making Henry wait like a damn cat before he felt the fabric slide down his legs..

He woke up.

The young man awoke in his bed, gasping for air like someone had just taken his breath away—or something. Henry’s bare chest and legs were covered in a cold sweat, woken up from his deep slumber.

It was just a normal night. There was nothing wrong with you, Henry. He looked over at you, sound asleep and facing the direction of him, unlike usual. Your face buried in your pillow, all scrunched and gentle like. You almost looked..cute or pretty, whatever words guys used to compliment girls or something.

The image replayed in his mind like vinyl on a record player, repeating in an endless loop over and over in the back of his head. He was sure he memorized it by now. Henry couldn’t even go back to sleep or lie down without thinking about his dream.

The young male couldn’t handle all the complaints and begging, and whatnot—especially from his in-laws. Always waiting for you to just one day announce your pregnancy. Such bullshit. Henry was finally done with it.

He was going to give them their wishes. After all, you did want kids, right? Plus, Henry couldn’t really get the thought of you in his dream from the night before out of his head like that. So intimate, so alluring. The pure image kept him up at night, he had desires of course.

He did the only logical thing he could do—get rid of your birth control. Now he knew that sounded stupid, but it was all apart of his plan. Henry wasn’t going to force himself on you, that would make him feel like his father all too much.

He was going to make you want him—to need him, yearn for him. He started with your medication, simply by just not reminding you to take it every day. And when you were almost out, he threw the rest away. Just like that.

You shrugged it off, thinking you were just out or just lost some—maybe you took some of your birth control on the wrong days or something?

Now obviously, doing just this wasn’t going to cut it.

Henry knew you had the same desires, acting like you didn’t find him attractive when he knew you did. You had to, who wouldn’t? So he started being a tad more nicer, day by day. He did what his father did best—manipulate.

“..You look nice today..” He said to you with the same cold, rough tone as usual—hinting with no emotion. His blue hues glistened in the kitchen lighting, focused on your figure in your pink cooking apron. Wait, why was he looking there?

“Oh..Thanks..” Henry watched as your cheeks turned a light shade of pink, just like he had planned. Perfect. He knew no matter how much you didn’t seem to like him, you would soon learn to him.

And if you didn’t, he would make you.

He knew women had needs—after all, he had seen it with his own mother. That’s why she left, or because she was almost beaten to death. The point was that Henry knew that you would come begging for affection if he gave it to you, women like you were vulnerable.

“I’m so cold..” You mumbled to Henry while you both sat on the couch late at night, watching the whatever was on the television. Normally, he would’ve just told you to be quiet or that it was too damn bad. He actually wanted to say that, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

His blue, cold hues met yours. His expression lacked emotion—value. “You could always just get closer, y’know..?” Henry said, going back to watch the TV while your lips parted in slight surprise. He couldn’t be too nice because that’d be too easy. It’d fuck up the plan!

You stared at him a little bit, just a little longer. You seemed confused but again, you shrugged it off, just like with the birth control. You went back to watching the old television before scooting a tad bit closer to Henry, almost like you were taking little steps. Cute.

Soon you were cuddling up next to him for warmth, acting like the dirty blond didn’t even notice, despite you trying to do it so nonchalantly. Everything was going perfect.

And there you were, sitting on the edge of the bed with that outfit he had seen in his dreams. The silk fabric that went down to just above your knees, the blue color that contrasted with the aesthetic of you and Henry’s bed sheets. It was all too familiar.

“Sorry, I..um..just wanted to surprise you..” You muttered to him, staring at the ground as your cheeks began to flush again, just like it had the other night. Henry knew the plan would work but he didn’t expect you to be so eager when he got home from work today.

Henry didn’t even say anything. That honestly worried you for a moment before he suddenly rushed towards you and started to smash your lips against his.

Oh boy, you were in for it.

Note : Debating on posting this on ao3 cus meh, but i hope you enjoyed!! first post!!

#80s #90s #henry bowers #henry bowers x reader #arranged marriage #it 2017 #bowers gang #farm girl #manipulation #tw abuse

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sinofwriting · 1 year ago

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Figlia Mia - Charles Leclerc

Words: 6,231 Summary: When she had met Charles Leclerc for the first time in 2017, she watched as her grandfather gave him the impossible task of restoring Ferrari’s greatness and her the task of making sure he does so. Note(s): This was a lot of fun to write. I got to do a lot of digging into Ferrari’s history in motorsports and F1, and make sure that the changes I made to the history of Ferrari made some sense. I also got to reignite my love for stats and things. I spent a lot of time looking at different circuit stats (which will be relevant in the second part of this fic) and just driver stats. Used a translator for the Italian but not google translate. Also, I shouldn’t have to say this but: How I write the drivers in these fics is not based on my feelings for them, it is just what I need them to be. So, please don’t send me hate because your favorite driver says or acts or is regarded in a certain way. Thanks! Hope you like this!

Masterlist | Support Me! | Part Two

Figlia mia - my daughter stella - star

2017

She eyes her grandfather wearily. He had called her home early from her classes and she had rushed home to Maranello.

“Nonno, what is the matter?” His gaze turns to her and he smiles, the solemn look on his face gone as he sees her. “My stella. You are back home.” His accent is thick as it wraps around the English words, always willing to indulge her. She sighs, leaning down to hug him. “You called me back. Did something happen?” He shakes his head, patting her hand when she straightens. “No, I have a meeting that I want you to attend with me.” She frowns. “It is late in the season for a meeting. Did Vettel or Räikkönen break contract?” “No. It’s for the team, but more of a future prospect.” Her frown deepens. “If it’s Hamilton, he won’t leave Mercedes and you shouldn’t entertain him, Nonno. You only have so much energy.” “I don’t want to take him from Mercedes. He wouldn’t be able to win with us anyways.” He groans as he thinks of how long it’s been since his team has won, and has achieved the greatness they are supposed to. “I just want your opinion, they should be here any minute.”

An uneasiness sits heavy in her stomach at how cryptic he’s being with her, something he never is, but she sits in the chair beside him. Taking his hand in both of hers and breathing a sigh of relief at the strongness still in his hands, no shakiness to be found. He was in good health, she reminded herself as they waited. He hadn’t even had a cold for three years, but still her mind worries.

“Mr. Enzo, Stella, your guests have arrived.” Anita’s voice says through the intercom. He presses the button to talk. “Please have Andrea get them and bring them back and tell him to stay as well.” “Andrea is here?” He hums, “I asked him to come. I have an idea.” She doesn’t say anything else to that and keeps quiet as she waits for whoever to arrive.

There’s a slight relief in it not being either Vettel or Räikkönen, she wasn’t keen to meet them for the first time right now, not when she had rushed home. She also didn’t want her grandfather meeting them now for the first time, so late in the year where he could catch an illness.

A knock sounds on the wooden door and she turns her head to look at it. Releasing her grandfather's hand from hers and moving to stand behind his chair. Her normal position in such meetings.

“Enter.” He calls and the door opens. “Signor.” Andrea greets, as he steps into the room, two, or rather one man and one boy following behind him with wide eyes. “I have your guests.” “Please sit, the three of you.” He tells them and they all quickly do.

Her eyes narrow as she recognises the familiar face of the man who is currently running the Ferrari Driver Academy and the just familiar face of the current F2 champion. The sight makes her want to lean down, to question why a F2 driver of all people is being allowed to meet her grandfather. A luxury he hasn’t afforded a single F1 driver since her father died other than Michael Schumacher. And even then he had won a championship first with them. But such a thing isn’t not her place, especially in front of guests, so she keeps quiet as her grandfather does as well, clearly waiting them out, letting the tension in the room build.

“Charles Leclerc.” Her grandfather says and the boy practically jumps. “You started winning in karting before you were even ten in 2005 and never stopped. A second place in Alps, then fourth in the European F3.” She watches as he winces at the reminder of what he clearly views as failures. “But you won your first year of GP3 and now have won F2. Truly impressive.” His eyes are still wide and they dart to the left before returning. “Thank you, Signor.” Her eyebrows raise at the way the Italian term leaves his mouth. He clearly had invested time in his Italian lessons. “Don’t thank me. You’ve done well for yourself. And now you have an F1 seat.” Her eyes darted to Andrea, “Nonno.” She hisses, stepping forward. “Andrea has signed the appropriate NDA’s and contracts, stella. There is no need for your worry.” This meeting seemed to be nothing but worrying for her. And suddenly the employment contract she had seen in her inbox for Andrea makes all the sense, especially since it had been sent to her directly, not cc'd.

“You will be joining Sauber this coming season. Are you ready?” “I hope and believe I am.” “And you have a team? A trainer, your own PR manager? A assistant?” Charles shakes his head, cheeks red. “I’m afraid not. I only signed the contract two days ago. I haven’t made arrangements.” “And your plans for the 2019 season? Still at Sauber?” “I only signed a one year contract with them. So I hope to stay with them if I can.” He hums and the tone if it tells her everything she needs to know and it takes everything in her to not show the horror she’s feeling. “There will be a spot open at Ferrari for the 2019 season. Show me you can handle an F1 car and perhaps it will be yours.” The three sitting opposite stare at him with wide eyes and Charles’ mouth is open, jaw dropped. “And Andrea will be your trainer. I have a good feeling about you Charles Leclerc, prove me right.” He then nods his head towards the door and the three scramble to stand and leave with rushed goodbyes.

She stands behind him for a moment before walking around the desk and flopping down in one of the seats.

“That boy is going to get destroyed.” “He is a boy to me. Barely a year younger than you, I believe.” She scoffs, “please, nonno. You have just put the biggest weight on his shoulders. Prove to me? And what if he speaks of this? Of getting to meet the great Enzo Ferrari when the man doesn’t leave his house and hasn’t met any drivers or even team principals in person since Schumacher.” “Then you will handle it, I suppose. And I will be proven wrong about the boy since he had to sign an NDA. Not a word of this meeting or this trip to Italy.” “And if people ask about Andrea? How they met? How he came to work with him?” “The academy put them in contact together. And no one will think anything of it. He is too distantly related to think that we have anything to do with it. Nor has he ever spoken of us.” His eyes soften as he really looks at her. “Everything will be fine, stella. I have a good feeling about this one.” She looks at him, worries still sitting heavy in her stomach, horror too, because god what if her grandfather had just sentenced him to forever chasing a dream he can’t have and faith in them that they are unable to deliver. She knows already that both Räikkönen and Vettel are feeling that way, their faith in Ferrari wavering if not gone. “I won’t be able to do anything to help him. Not for years.” “You will be able to help. Not as much as you will in a few years time, but you can still help. We still make decisions for the team and sign off on things.” “And if he leaves before then?” “He won’t.” His voice is quiet, but filled with unwavering faith. Faith she wants to feel herself. “He will be what our team needs to become champion and he won’t leave until he gets that.”

2018

“Vettel is not happy that he wasn’t told before about getting a rookie as a teammate.” She tells her grandfather, looking over the top of her laptop at him. “Sebastian will deal.” Enzo coughs. “And he won’t have a rookie as a teammate.” She makes a humming noise, looking at all of the articles about the announcement of Charles Leclerc joining the historic F1 team before opening her email again. “Should I cover Andrea’s costs again?” “Yes. As long as you aren’t in power with the team, I want Charles kept close.” “That won’t happen until the end of the 2023 season. You want us to pay for Andrea that long?” “Andrea is also family.” He reminds her, before lips twitch into a smile. “And there is a reason he doesn’t receive as large of a Christmas bonus as everyone else anymore.”

2020

“They want to sign Sainz for a two year deal.” He snorts, “and for what? Let me guess sponsors?” “They’re serious about this, nonno. His team has already approached us about a two year contract.” “And he can’t go to Aston because Vettel is going there for two years.” “And he’ll never go back to Red Bull. Mercedes won’t entertain the idea.” “But we are?” He groans, running a hand over his face. “God, what has happened to this team? He hasn’t gotten a single podium, a win! And he’ll hit a hundred races this year. That is who they want on the team?” “He was sixth in the driver standings last year.” “Could he handle it?” She frowns. “Maybe. We wouldn’t know until it happened. He’s older like Vettel, has more experience as well than Leclerc. But Leclerc already has wins under his belt, managed to get fourth in the standings in only his second year. He was teammates with Verstappen in his rookie year, so it’s possible he could handle it.” “A two year contract, huh?” “Two years.”

2022

“Sainz wants to be extended.” She rubs at her forehead, the email, moreso the wording was troubling. “And why should we?” “Because he finished ahead of Charles in the driver's standings last year.” “By less than ten points and due to our own team's failings. They way they embarrassed him in Monaco.” He shakes his head, the rage he felt that day watching it happen coming back. “Four podiums to one. And neither got a win.” “Who needs a seat?” “There’s rumors about Schumacher.” “No.” He shakes his head, fingers beginning to tap against his desk. “Maybe in a few seasons, but not now.” “Bottas, Guyuan, De Vries, Hulkenberg.” He scoffs at all the names. “A friend at McLaren said they’re looking to drop Ricciardo.” His fingers stop. “Ricciardo. He’d understand his role.” “And as long as we treat him better than Red Bull did or how McLaren are, we’d have him.” “Why do they want to drop him?” “Underperforming. Norris is doing better.” He looks at her disbelief. “Please tell me that’s a joke.” She shakes her head. “He gave that fucking fake British team their first win in a decade!” “He’s older and despite his knack for giving good development advice, they’re ignoring it for Norris’.” He rubs at his forehead. “Write him down. Maybe we can get a talk with him before another team manages to snatch him up. Who else?” “It’s all reserves and formers now. There’s Piastri who's serving as Alpine’s reserve this season, wouldn’t shock me if they’ve already signed a contract with him for the next year but haven’t announced it though. We or Haas really has Illot still under contract as a reserve.” He shakes his head. “Leave him in Indycar for a few seasons. Might try him in 2024 when we’re looking for another driver.” She nods, writing his name down with 2024 beside it. “And Piastri?” “No. Alpine probably has something signed with him already. They’d be stupid not to.” “That leaves Ricciardo and Sainz.” He frowns. “Reach out to Ricciardo. We nearly had him for 2021, we should’ve taken him.” “Understood.”

As she begins to type out her email to Ricciardo’s team and she wonders how Blake will react to seeing an email for Ferrari, Enzo speaks.

“How is Charles?” “Nonno.” “I can’t ask?” “You are fishing.” She replies, not looking away from her laptop. “But he is good. Ready for the season to start.” “Hmm. And will he be coming for dinner?” She pauses her typing, looking at him. “Are you asking him to come to dinner?” “I’d like to meet the boy that has made my granddaughter so happy.” “Oh, nonno. It is not a boy that is making me so happy. Just you. You have been in better spirits for the last year.” She laughs. “And isn't it interesting that it was only when you started seeing him that both of our spirits rose?” Her eyes narrow. “Don’t make me take the Leclerc name.” It’s a high insult to the Ferrari name, one that her grandfather has made sure that she knew better to even joke about, but he doesn’t react with his fiery temper, just smirks. “It’s serious enough for marriage but not for you to bring him to meet me?” Blood rushes to her cheeks. “You have met him.” “When he was a boy.” He counters. “One you had distaste for.” He reminds her not that she has ever forgotten.

She had told Charles on their third date about it, watching as his mouth gaped at her, unable to believe that the boy he was at the age could be distasteful. Now, he likes to tease her about it. About how she didn’t like him but as soon as he left the room and she was issued the challenge of making sure he got to Ferrari she did.

“I haven’t met him since. I haven’t met him as your partner. And we both know that you’ll be taking each other's names.” “It is too early to say that.” She tells him, voice quiet. “But I’ll message him. He’ll love to meet you.”

2023

“This is ridiculous!” “I told you that this would happen! You put your hopes and dreams on a boy and look at what has happened!” “I did no such thing!” “You did! And I told you that you would ruin him. That he would lose faith just like the ones before and now look.” She waves a hand at the TV in front of them, playing the lowlights of the season. “He didn’t just go to that meeting with Red Bull and then shut it down like he has before, he entertained it.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “He should’ve left us for them when they first fucking offered.” “You do not mean that.” “Look at what our team has done to him! Look at what you have done! I have no power there and barely do you. I get to vote on what drivers we add to the team, but it is one vote, against six others. Same goes for the general direction of the car, which we both were out voted in. And that is it, that is my power! I don’t get to give him the Ferrari team he deserves, that we deserve, because you signed it away when my father died until I turn twenty-seven!” She turns away from Enzo, taking in a shaky breath, before turning back to him. “And you will not ever bring it up to Charles that he considered leaving us or if he does. Because I set up that meeting with Red Bull for him.” He looks at her resigned, saddened, but not surprised. “You would let him leave?” “I don’t let him do anything. I love you, nonno. I love this team. But it is not just Charles that they are disappointing and letting down. It is our fans, our people, our family, our legacy, me, you. Next month, I get to finally take back our families power in the sport and it is already too late for this season and nearly too late for the next. I can’t even guarantee a good first season with me in charge because of where the car is already developed too. And the upgrades.” She shakes her head. “None of it would matter with the team that is working there.”

“What do you want to do?” She looks at him, struggling not to cry, and she folds herself down in front of him, taking her hands in his. “A new structure and house. The voting can stay, but it has anonymity, we don’t talk about who is going to vote for what, only after the votes have been cast we talk, discuss, but with us having the power to veto if decisions are being made too much on outside factors like money and perceptions. Drivers who have multi-year contracts starting next season can be present for the votes, hear why we voted for what we did and even jump in on discussions if they feel inclined. We change. We have been stagnant for too long. We need new blood and beliefs.” He starts to shake his head and she squeezes his hands.

“Nonno, please just listen to me.” She pleads. “We need a complete overhaul of the team, you know it and have said it yourself. I can’t just hire Italian first, not when that has ended with us where we are now. I can offer everyone severance packages, pay for it all myself, but no more Italian first. We take who is best suited for the team and hope they are Italian. Maybe we baptize them if they aren’t.” His lips quirk into a smile. “The strategy team needs to go, PR, social media, the race engineers.” “Sainz likes his race engineer.” “Sainz also likes to say that he comes up with the strategy used in the races but as soon as they fail, he backtracks. He is a fair driver, but he needs to be retrained in PR.” “His family needs a gag order.” Her grandfather huffs. “Yes, but that is not something we can do. What we can do is get him retrained and get a new PR manager for him, same with social media. Charles will be getting the same. He needs an image refresh.” “This is what you want?” “Yes. I want to bring our team back to greatness. I already have the people I want for the team, I’m just waiting for your approval and for the next month to pass before I start sending out contracts.” He sighs, looking in pain. “Can they at least speak Italian?” She smiles, standing to press a kiss to his cheek. “They can learn and they will quickly.” Another sigh leaves him but he smiles, warm and gentle at her. “Mia figlia, la mia stella, fai quello che devi. Il mio supporto è tuo, sempre.” My daughter, my star, do what you must. My support is yours, always. “Thank you, papa.”

October 23rd, 2023

She stands facing the back wall of the room, listening as the door opens and people trudge in. She tries to count the pairs of feet she hears. She knows how many are supposed to come to this meeting, how many she asked to come, but it wouldn’t surprise her if someone let slip that the new boss, and the big boss at that, had arranged a meeting that a few people would try tagging along.

It’s the sound of the door shutting and then locking from the inside that has her turning around, giving a nod of thanks to her bodyguard, Roman, who inclines his head before retreating to the left front corner of the room.

“I see you all made it.” She says, her Italian accent barely noticeable around the English words and she can see a few faces turn confused at the English. Ferrari was Italian, they spoke Italian, had meetings in Italian. And more importantly, she was not just Ferrari, but a Ferrari. One that only three people in this room had ever met in person, and only two others had seen her face because of video calls. “Good, let's talk about the dumpster fire that was yesterday.” She can see a few faces balk at her words, but it’s Sainz’s that gets her attention. “You don’t agree?” “It was an unfortunate thing that happened to Charles, but I still ended up in P3.” “Due to a disqualification. Which is also what happened to your teammate. This also is the third time you’ve ended up on the podium due to such a thing. Let us also not forget to acknowledge that while the FIA didn’t check your car, like they should have after finding that two of four of the cars they checked had issues with their planks, doesn’t mean we didn’t.” He frowns and so does a good majority of the room. “I don’t understand.” “Your planks were just like Leclerc’s. Just barely under what they should be. But still enough for disqualification.” Eyes widen and she continues. “Not that it matters, because I won’t be alerting the FIA of such a thing. Not when the teams didn’t get enough time to set up the car because of the sprint format and I don’t think we need to give McLaren more of a jump on us.”

Walking around the room, she nearly pauses behind Charles' chair. Wants so badly to squeeze his hand, to offer him comfort or a way to get his frustrations out, but she continues until she is at the front of the room.

“The FIA won’t get rid of sprint races, but myself and a few other team representatives, will be going to them with a new sprint format for the next season hopefully or for at least starting the 2025 season. I expect both of you,” she looks at Sainz and Charles, “to voice your support. And I’m sure Red Bull, Williams, Mercedes, McLaren, Aston Martin, Alpine, and Haas, will be saying the same to their drivers as well.” “You want us to support a format that could be worse?” Charles asks, and she can see a few shakes of the head at him. “No, I want you to support one that is better. For Sprint weekends, you will have free practice one and the sprint shootout on Friday. On Saturday, there will be the sprint, followed by second free practice, then qualifying. Sundays of course will just be race day. Does that sound worse?” “No. You think the FIA will go for it?” “The FIA won’t have much of a choice. And besides next year allows each team to have more tyre’s allocated, they’ll want something extra to help burn through them to make it more interesting.”

“Now,” She lifts the lid of one of the two file boxes she has. “Leclerc, Sainz.” Both grimace at the use of their last names, but she catches a glimpse of amusement from Charles. “I have meetings with both of your management teams after this. Sainz, you’ll be getting a new PR manager, Ana. She or her assistant Val, will be with you for every event, interview, or anything else PR wise. Sometimes they both will.”

She turns her head to look at Charles. “Leclerc, you're getting an image refresh. I’m not letting a driver for this team have a vast majority of people thinking there’s nothing behind your apparently good looks.”

“Why isn’t Charles getting a babysitter?” She raises a brow at the tone and question. “Ana and Val aren’t babysitters, they work in PR. They will be retraining you. Because at the moment I could be breaking your contract right now with four races left in the season due to the public clause and if you have to ask why, you need more help than I thought.” He looks at her in shock and she can see a few people in the room shift uncomfortably. “Also concerning both of you, you both will have new race engineers in Mexico. Your previous engineers were lacking.” They both look uncomfortable with the decision but don’t say anything and she turns her attention to Fred.

“Fred.” “Ms. Ferrari.” She smiles at the title, though there’s nothing polite or happy about it. “This is your team is not?” She gestures to the drivers, the heads of different departments that all sit in the room with them. “Yes.” “Then, why am I doing your job for you and handling them?” With that she starts throwing out the severance packages onto the table. When she runs out of ones in the first box, she takes the lid off the second and just tips it over, letting them spill out.

“Severance packages.” She states, seeing some people's confused looks. “Some are effective immediately. Others will be given after the last race.” “Fabio’s name is here.” “So is Gualtieri and Cardile. They have been given generous severance packages.” She reassures. “You will meet their replacements either later today or in Mexico.” “They are heads of their departments!” “And they have failed at their jobs. As has everyone who has been issued one of these.”

—

“How did they take it?” “Safe to say I haven’t made any friends.” “So, it's going well.” She snorts, smiling at Charles as he enters her hotel suite. “I’m fairly certain they all would like to burn me at the stake.” Charles frowns. “Not Charles of course.” “Is he there?” “Just got here.” She confirms. “Do you want to talk to your grandson?” She teases and predictably Charles flushes. “Yes, yes. I want to make sure that he’s taking care of you, protecting you.” She rolls her eyes at the last part but passes the phone to Charles, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she does before stepping around him to her open laptop.

Leaning against the desk, she stares at the list in front of her. A list of drivers, currently on the grid, reserves, and not yet on the grid. Before the halfway point of the 2024 season she’d either have to sign contracts for one new driver or two for the 2025 season and now it just came down to who she wanted to reach out to.

A good amount of them are already on the bottom half of the page under the bolded words, not an option.

Verstappen was there, both Mercedes drivers, Bottas, Hulkenberg, Magnuessen, Alonso, Ocon, Stroll, Perez, Norris. She chooses not to look too closely at the fact that she doesn’t have Piastri there. She’d buy out a contract if need be and she knew Mark. If she proved that Ferrari could improve and be a winning team under her, he’d be willing to help her break a contract or two.

She jolts when a pair of lips presses themselves to her forehead, her phone being set down next to her laptop. “Your list is interesting. No Antonio?” “He’s a good development driver.” She says, typing his name out under not an option. Charles hums, sitting in the chair and then pulling her onto his lap, carefully pulling her legs to hangover the arm of the chair. “You have two Indycar drivers under possible.” She shrugs. “I’ll watch closely as the first few races go for them. They only have contracts for the 2024 season.” “Not that it would matter.” She grins, huffing out a laugh. “Not that it would matter.”

She watches as he peers at the list, his hands rubbing at her calf. “You have a lot of no’s.” His eyes narrow as he scans it again. “Mick, Ollie, and Vesti all under maybe?” “Vesti’s done well for himself, Mercedes is just going to waste him. Especially if he’s any good in an F1 car. Bearman’s had a strong first season in F2. Schumacher,” She hesitates. “I’m not keen on the idea. Especially with two seasons out of F1, but there is the opportunity to put him in Alfa Romeo.” “But Valterri and Zhou.” “Valterri knows he won’t be promoted back up. He’s doing good for being at Alfa Romeo, but he also has a lot of other ventures and pursuits. I’d like to keep him for another year or two after for development if I can.” He hums, “Alex and Schwartzman?” “Albon is sticking to Williams like glue. Which is understandable after Red Bull, but there’s hope.” She doesn’t mention that she’d think that he’d be a good teammate for Charles. “Schwartzman is already under contract with us. Just as a reserve and for testing, but who knows.”

He presses a kiss to her shoulder and he reads the top of the list, the possibles. He had only skimmed it before, but now he gives it his full attention.

“I’m on here.” “Yes.” “But,” “You don’t have an extension with us. You are only contracted with us for this next season. And as much as I’d like to keep you as would the fans and nonno, we haven’t proven that we deserve to have you here. I have to keep my options open that there will be two drivers I have to sign for 2025.” “I don’t like it.” He tells her, frowning. He didn’t like to think about not being at Ferrari, at the possibility of it, especially now with her at the helm and already making drastic changes. He didn’t know yet if those changes were good or not, but it felt like they were, he hoped that they were.

Piastri, Ricciardo, Drugovich, and he blinks as reads the last name, saying it outloud. “Sargeant. You have Sargeant under possible? Not a maybe but possible?” “Sargeant would sign a contract with us in a heartbeat, no contracts to break. 2024 will be a one year for him.” “Something has been signed?” She shrugs, “it’s common sense to keep him. Otherwise they’d just be dealing with a whole other rookie.” He sighs, jaw twitching. “I don’t like it. He has only scored a point because of my disqualification.” “I know.” “He has cost them much.” “I know.” Charles pouts, “he is American.” She lets out a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “That will be your issue with him? His Americanness?” “Yes.” “Well, it’s just a possibility.” She smiles, before leaning down to press their lips together in a quick kiss. “Now, tell me out of everyone in the maybes and possibles who you’d want as a teammate.” “And what? You’ll make it happen?” “If I can give you a good season next year, I’ll do everything I can.”

He eyes the list, taking in the names he mentioned before and the few he didn’t.

Pierre would end in a dumpster fire and he was selfish enough to say that he didn’t want him as a teammate so they could keep their friendship, one so close to his heart. Lawson was an interesting idea, he had performed well for having to suddenly jump into a car. Alex would be a good teammate as well and he knew that Alex would also love the development side of things like he did.

He didn’t know enough about Drugovich or either of the Indycar drivers really. They had performed fair in F2 and were doing well in Indycar, but it was unknown. He could see them both though at Alfa Romeo. Ollie was too young to step into such a huge seat, maybe for him also Alfa Romeo in 2025 and by 2028 he’d be ready to step in and then take over a seat.

Oscar and Sargeant are both interesting for completely different reasons. He wishes that she had gotten power in the beginning of 2022 and when the Alpine drama happened, snatched Oscar up.

But there’s one name that he keeps on looking at, that’s circling in his head.

“Daniel. If I could have anyone, I’d want Daniel.”

There’s a shared pained history there and Charles knows that he took what was going to be Daniel’s seat in 2019 before Ferrari really started gunning for him while Renault took a keen interest in Daniel.

Charles could still remember around the fifth race of the 2020 season when Daniel had cornered him, looking nervous to be around him for the first time since their accidentally shared Vegas trip that made them break the ice. Daniel seemed so much smaller as he asked Charles if he’d be okay with them being teammates next season, and had seemed shocked by the relieved and happy grin Charles had given him.

She hesitates, “I never said anything, but I tried getting Daniel for 2024 and even 2023 when the rumors about McLaren dropping him started up.” “But Carlos?” “He asked for an extension, but nonno and me wanted to present a different option. But by the time I reached out, Red Bull had managed to snatch him back up. He’s only with them though for 2024. He’s free after that.” “So, you are saying?” He hopes. “I’m saying that, I’ve already reached out as of yesterday. Red Bull isn't in any hurry to get him under contract for 2025 and Blake has made it clear that Daniel isn’t signing any contracts until May or June to them and us.” “Which is enough time to prove that the team is improving.” “Yes.”

He stares at her wide eyed speechless. “What does that mean?” “If we improve?” He nods. “We sign you and Daniel until 2027.” She pauses, hesitating, but she won’t lie to him now. “We let you two battle it out at the beginning of the 2025 season. If Daniel is scoring more points, higher on the podium than you by break, you defend. We’ll ask you to let him pass if both of you can get on the podium or he has better pace and can get on it. We let him become world champion first. And it would go the other way around as well.” He rolls the idea in his mind, lets it sit in his stomach. “Daniel Ricciardo the 2025 world champion and Charles Leclerc the 2026 world champion.”

He lets them sit in the air, the idea of practically another three seasons before it could happen. Could he wait that long? Watch as Daniel got it before him? Watch as his teammate got it before him? Could he let himself be sacrificed for his teammates gain again? He thinks it over, because it is not fair for her to ask, to say, but that is what driving in Formula One is. It is not fair, with unequal machinery and only twenty spots available. To have to worry not just about your race but also your teammates depending on where the point standings are at.

But she is offering him something that he wasn’t before and with clearness, transparency. Not something that will be dropped on him in the middle of the race or as he’s about to finish lap ten or fifty. She’s telling him now what to expect and how it will go. She’s letting him know that it doesn’t matter which one is in the lead for the championship, just that whichever one isn’t when they come back from break, will be defending and he thinks now of her emphasis on the word. Not sacrificing, but defending. She wouldn’t let either of them be compromised so badly that they drop either low in the points or out of the points completely, but she would ask that they defend the other.

“I want it. Even if I do have to wait an extra year. It’d be worth it.” “And if you won in 2025 and then Daniel in 2026?” “We could trade off years, but I want it, I want that.” She smiles and there’s something sweet and dangerous about it. “Then I’ll make it happen.”

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