#like charles is already used to his team failing him and he was like okay then

[vsyrworld]

carlos thought after charles dsq in cota? but make it unintentionally funny like how charles coping

ehe this is gonna be a quick one

"it is so close to podium. argh" rupert knock at the debrief table. "if it wasnt because of your tyre" guzman added, "you could have been in P3"

"I know" is he? well he isn't actually even with good pitstop, mclaren still too fast. ofcourse he is hoping podium he was so sure. until he wasn't sure about their result when he see the next garage seems moving in rush. so chaotic until charles left his phone on the garage chair. Ricky entered the room with Charles' phone while keeping eye glued into the garage curiously, "well i think the debrief is post poned"

"oh? what happen?" carlos had no idea. seriously no idea. is it... "Charles?" he took charles phone from his strategist

"apparantely..." guzman sighed tiredly. thinking what media content he should post to fix this upcoming damage.

carlos sighed too. playing with charles phone for a bit before realizing his lockscreen is more blant and minimalistic than he used before, than he used with only carlos. the spaniard grins as he holding the screen pretty long so he could edit his lockscreen, swipe left until find the saved theme lockscreen he is searching for.

minutes comes into hours and carlos yawned. there is nothing more particular intersting in charles phone.

one by one member of red comes to debrief room, chitchatting in anxiety, mumbling "disqualification", fear and sweaty forehead displaying enough clearly to see something is wrong about charles.

the room is so hot suddenly, he couldnt breath at all. its like somebody put something on the flame. carlos inhale only found a hot breathy air that exhaled from the member. humid-sticky, suffocating, just like inside cockpit in singapore, or qatar. how so it's fucking hot inside an AC room especially the sun already came?

he stands up aburptly making guzman and rickt startled beside him, "gonna go get fresh air first. its so hot suddenly"

rupert giving him an eyebrow. he just-- look its so hot here okay? carlos just give him a high five on the air.

he get out only to bumping with Charles. Red face, flushed by tears? oh is it sweat?

"Charles...? I head you dis--" his finger itch to crawl Charles to his arms but his teammate only grin

"Carlos! you had no idea what i bought you" charles put his arms behind his back so carlos couldnt see it

Carlos frowns, Charles giggled.

"Tara!" Charles shows both of his hands wrapped around...

a trophy, P3 tropy?!

"What the fuck?" Indeed Carlos, what would Charles present him the thropy just after he got back from steward room

"What?" his teammate slightly annoyed, "You in podium mate! Here" Charles shoved the trophy to Carlos before passing by him

Carlos shook his head and hold his teammate arms "Wait, Charles. I... Are you okay?"

Charles chukled as he turns around to face him, "Oh don't pity me Carlos" his voice free from malicious tone. he meet with dimples and smile,

"dont worry, i'm not angry or jealous to you" his teammate step closer, enough to brushing their nose together quickly before retreating himself back

carlos eyeing him in doubt," Charles Marc Herve..." he had a habit to call his teammate with his fullname if Charles start joking about his mental health or trying shove away his depression.

"Whaat? It true!" Charles tilt his neck to left and carlos automaticaly brought his palm to massage the sore spot Charles showing.

He hummed as Carlos reach the perfect spot, "Besides..." charles slowly open his closed in content eyes. green. beautiful, full of poison, toxic, death.

oh. carlos hands movement stops at the moment. Charles rolled his shoulder back and cracked his neck.

"I need to give some of a lesson" His teammate smile at him, no not smiling. its..

he is turning into sly fox. his dimples out, but tounge sharp as knife.

"I'm gonna make the debrief is long ass exciting, don't wait for me. you can go celebrate your podium!" He winked then goes inside the debrief room

carlos could hear ,"ciaoo guyys. where do we fucking need to start, hm?" before the door closed and he whinced his eyes painfuly

there only reason why the room grows hot.

yeah of course, carlos took his phone and called lando, "im joining the party. wait me"

he doesn't need to watch charles do another genocide inside the room.

later that night in club, his phone blink from notification. it's charles--

"enjoying your podium? say thanks to me by give me head massage will you? i think i accidently damage several parts of it"

and rather drunk in countryside club, carlos prefer here. staying contently with chill temperature, not too hot or cold, charles head resting on his lap, his finger gently massage the soft browns lock, scents of lavender oil slick across charles forehead.

in the room, charles always bring his plus one company. some race he bring anger and it banged into the fourwall, made a mess before his energy deplated and flop down into carlos soft chest.

some race, charles bring melancholy, staying quite for long time, only feeling warm cuddles and burying himself further into carlos neck.

on gloomy day at suzuka, charles bring cloud and rain. it took several forehead and long deep kisses from Carlos to make it stop pouring.

this time at cota, carlos confused as charles bring out a sun. lounging on his lap, streching like a cat while enjoying carlos massage

"you making me worry. are you sure you are okay?" carlos smoothering down his forehead

"im more worried about lewis though"

which making carlos frowns, "carino. what hell?"

"no but look." charles sits up and rest his back against carlos chest. carlos brough his arm to support charles waist, letting his teammate to fully rest on his body, he facing him side by side, "He is not used to get this feeling"

again, a frown.

"i mean" charles snuggles closer, "Lewis never used to his team, letting him down. like this"

carlos hummed, how ironic he just agreeing at that statement. "but that doesn't mean you should normalized this week no? especially, you..." its your birthday week . carlos want to say it but charles already understand.

he is not answering though, instead locking his phone and stay frozen at his lockscreen.

carlos grins

charles did the same thing too. "you awfully fucking romantic. you surely know how to annoy me huh?!" he groaned before fishing down a kiss to carlos inviting lips.

The phone is long forgotten with a muffled of moans and fabric rustle. with the screen on, it clearly shows charles and carlos selfies in a polaroid card and there are other several polaroid frames with a sharpie inked below them. the center one, the newest one, where charles face full of by a white frosting cake that carlos just smashed him, written there

"only me, your only one bday and race gift'

[ham1lton]

you said u read ao3 fics! what are your f1 recs?

ahhh!!!!! this is the best question you could have ever asked me like ever i love you so much. i’ve been dying to talk abt this for a hot minute. i opened myself up to any sort of ship mostly because i cared more abt the fic quality then the ship you know? kinda glad i did it because my fav ones are not necessarily ships i am a fan of. it’s really long so i put it under a read more!!

okay so number one has to be the fic that was my first fav f1 fic. this is steal the air out of my lungs (make me feel it). now this has a lot of elements that i love. guy who’s in his own head vs other guy who’s also in his own head but pretends he isn’t. also idk why but i’m always a sucker for a good medical au and this one fucking delivers!!! another maxiel fic i read was three rounds and a sound which has coffee shop owner daniel w/ stressed out student max. a lot of introspection but it’s also unfolding while the romance is. idk i just love this. it’s so good. last maxiel fic is come on, star boy which is a alt universe where daniel is the american guy he always wanted to be and max is the new transfer to his small town’s football team. it isn’t just incredibly written but everyone feels so real and vivid. i can visually see this in my mind everytime i read it. i listened to a lot of ethel cain while reading so that helped. i love this so much and the brocedes in the background?? you’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves youuu 🗣️

i’m not really a landoscar girl, i’m gonna be honest. however, where i am going is right where i am, is just incredible. alt universe where the drivers live on a street version of stars hollow? brocedes that influence everything even though they’re long over? charles being insane over max? pierre hating on esteban every second that is possible (i was laughing every time he would just cuss his ass out unprovoked) and annoying george being their street’s version of gilmore girls’ taylor?? what more do u need in ur life?? also oscar in this fic is just my dream man. i think a croissant from him would fix me. actually i read a lot of this author’s landoscar fics and they’re so cute i was sending kudos as much as i can. like already home! just want to bite them both and put them in my pocket. they’re so obviously in love i want to shake them down and scream and smoosh them together. lawyer!oscar i love you. check out their profile!! incredible writer :)))

i’m also not a galex truther but the two of us, in sympathy is so cute!! rich boy!george with broke junior doctor!alex. george attempting to court alex and just absolutely failing. i love it. they’re such a mess i need them in my life. also this loscar future fic is so intense but incredible. i’m really bad at describing but i binged it on my train home and i was really glad i did - i promised to forget you now.

the reason i even got into f1 aka brocedes. this fic i think was one of the first i read. on the faultline which is just amazing. i can’t recommend it enough. read it if u can. another fav is a brocedes threesome with their toxic fucking each other via proxy aka new money, and it’s all cash. cute brocedes!! nico thinks lewis is his sworn enemy but everyone knows otherwise. roseberg’s vs haminkton. this was so cute and funny. cause why was nico saying lewis, the owner of a tattoo shop was stealing business from him… when he owns a florists… he’s so dramatic i want to tuck him in my pocket. this job will take my sole has the same premise but they’re both shoe shops which makes a lot more sense. i just love stupid rivalries and dramatic nico.

now back to my sweethearts, the lights of my life, the fires of my heart - sewis. all of these fics have past brocedes just for context. every tongue should confess talks about religion and queer identity in such a nuanced and delicate way? i adored this fic. transmotion which is another alt universe with fashion designer!lewis and footballer!sebastian both figuring out their careers, themselves and their relationship. maybe together we can get somewhere - this is an mpreg fic which usually isn’t for me but it’s about seb and lewis going on a road trip for an abortion and it’s so good. honestly the ending line of ‘it’s a good feeling, to know that sebastian’s outstretched hand is right there.’ it just stuck with me. i loved it. the numbering at bethlehem which is thee sewis fic to me. professor au?? this was made for me. like perfectly moulded. everything about this is art. i could do a full essay on this fic. just read it, it’s incredible. just amazing. sebastian as the child prodigy who has nowhere else to climb?? i love them both in this fic so much!!! tnab sewis get behind me!! i’m gonna protect u!!

okay i’m sorry this is so long. i just love art. i love writing. i just love the work these authors’ have spent putting together these masterpieces for free!! check them out!! leave kudos!! comment!! <3

[elisysd]

2. Square one, my slate is clear

Masterlist - Previoulsy - Next

Soundtrack: Square One - Caamp

He was relieved to not see you around the paddock in Saudi Arabia. If he was being honest, he wouldn’t have been able to handle your comments on his penalty and probably would have snapped. He was pissed off enough because of that and snapping wouldn’t help him. He didn't need that. Ferrari didn’t need that. Even though his race was okay, he was feeling frustrated. Frustrated over a car that he was trying to push way too much, a team that was not really listening to him, beside Fred with whom he had a very close relationship with and who at times, felt like the only trustworthy person around him.

Once he was done with his duties he finally managed to find his brother, Arthur, in hope of congratulating him for his P8. He hadn’t had the time to see him before his F2 race and he felt a bit guilty about it. He had always made sure he would be there for him no matter what and he couldn't handle letting him down, even if deep down he knew it wouldn’t even cross Arthur’s mind. He met him in the Ferrari’s hospitality as he was talking to their big brother, Lorenzo.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be there for you.” Charles apologized, taking Arthur in his arms.

“It’s fine. I’m glad, P8 is not that bad and I’ll be able to keep on improving.”

“Still. I promised I would always watch your races and here I am already failing.”

“You’re not failing. You have things going on and places to be. It’s okay, I understand. and I know where to find you if I need you.”

“You know that I’ll always be there for you, right? No matter what.” Charles insisted.

“I know. Maybe there is something you could help me with?”

“Of course. Tell me.”

“I still have to get used to the media and to the interviews. I had a long one with a journalist from French TV and I was so nervous that I think I stuttered a bit.”

Charles saw red. Immediately.

“Did she tell you her name?” he asked, so urgently that it earned him a weird look from both of his brothers.

“Y/N. But, that’s okay, she was very laid back and made sure I was at ease, she was nice. Very nice and she even joked to make me feel better. And she is very pretty.” he added, glancing at Charles who had heard only half of his answer, focused on the fact that you might have tried to play with Arthur.

“You should tell your team to not let her be near you, she has something against me and I don’t want her to get you as leverage to hurt me.”

“Have you heard yourself? She is a journalist, not part of the damn mafia!” Arthur argued in disbelief.

“Still. Be careful.”

“I don’t see how such a cute and nice girl could be so dangerous.” Arthur mumbled as Lorenzo looked at the F1 driver, amused.

“Don’t start to develop a crush on her, you have a girlfriend.”

“She's not my type. She is more yours.” Arthur playfully joked as Charles glared at him.

“Not you too. First Silvia, now you, it has to stop. No girls for me this year, I need to focus on the championship…. and I really mean it. My career first. Ferrari is a sinking ship, I need to be one hundred percent focused on it.”

He chose to ignore the looks on his brothers’ faces. He was serious, dating was out of the equation, he had too much work, too many things to do. He could try casual dating but it was not his thing. So if he had to swear on celibacy for the time being, then so be it. He saw Arthur about to reply but thankfully, Fred had just entered the room, a smile on his face. He patted Charles on the shoulders, briefly congratulated Arthur for his race and asked Lorenzo how he was doing, before announcing that he had planned a little dinner between the team in a nice restaurant to relax and bond after the weekend. Charles was about to say that he was not in the mood to socialize but quickly avoided it when he saw the hard gaze of his team principal. He wouldn’t offer him a way out on this one.

Charles found himself sitting in a very fancy but at the same time intimate setting, next to Carlos, and in a nice and laid back atmosphere. It was nice. He felt like he could finally relax and enjoy himself a little bit. He was joking with Xavi when, from the corner of his eyes he saw a group of people entering the restaurant. It didn’t take long for Charles to notice you immediately, somehow standing out, for a reason he couldn’t exactly pinpoint. And as if you were feeling his eyes on your skin, you turned your head in his direction meeting his blue-green orbs. He saw you raising an eyebrow, almost defying him before nodding your head, in order to greet him. As you were taking your seat, Charles couldn’t help but keep on staring at your figure. You were wearing a tight black dress, your hair in a more elaborate ponytail than the one you were usually wearing in the paddock. Arthur was right, you were pretty. Even more than that if he had to be honest with himself. You were stunning. But he knew that you would be even more if you were not as insufferable.

He felt distracted, more than he should be. Your mere presence was enough to make his skin itching and his legs bouncing. It was stupid, he knew it, it was not like you were about to jump on him to harass him with your questions. But he was suddenly mindful of his movements, of the way he was holding his fork, of the way he was chewing on his steak, of the napkin on his lap and of the weird looks Fred and Andrea were giving him. From the corner of his eyes, he couldn’t help but watch you in a way he hoped was not too obvious. It was just little side glances, here and there. You looked happy, at ease, closer to the portrayal Arthur depicted of you than the one Charles had faced. He looked at the people surrounding you. Jean, Marion… the team that was on the Grand Prix. He knew them well, he was even happy to call Jean his friend. Always there outside of the tracks when he needed someone to talk to. His gaze lingered on you a bit longer than necessary. You were oddly fitting with them. You were laughing, expressing yourself with your hands, a bright smile on your  face, the one that was making your cheeks hurt. You looked younger when you acted like that, he thought. Far away from the ruthless girl he had met and was asking him petty questions. He started to doubt. Maybe, after all, the problem was coming from him, maybe he was somehow responsible for your cold attitude towards him. Maybe he had met you in the past and had acted like an ass to you and that’s why you didn’t seem to be able to give him the time of the day. As if his feet had a mind on their own, he got up and walked to your table. He saw your surprised face when he stood right next to you and didn’t miss the sigh of annoyance you breathed in his direction.

“Charles! We didn’t see you!” Jean exclaimed, putting a hand on the Ferrari driver's shoulder.

“Yeah, I saw you and I was debating on whether or not I should come by. I didn’t want to interrupt anything.”

“How are you doing? The penalty was harsh but you managed to race well.”

“Yeah, it was impressive.” Marion admitted.

“Thanks guys. It was a tough race.” he humbly said, his eyes glued to your figure who was suddenly finding your chocolate cake very interesting.

Unfortunately for you, it suddenly seemed quite evident that Charles wasn’t going anywhere. He had suddenly taken a chair and was sitting next to Marion and right beside you. You could still smell his sandalwood aftershave hitting your nostrils. And when you felt his knee slightly brushing yours, you jumped.

“I’m sorry, I forgot that it’s my friend’s birthday tonight and I forgot to call her. Don’t wait for me.” you apologized, almost running away from the table.

Minutes passed and when it became clear that the door would keep on being closed, Charles decided to go searching for you. He went back quickly to his table to gather his things and say goodbyes before going outside. You were there, staring straight ahead of you, not even blinking or flinching when he approached. But Charles didn’t fail to notice the goosebumps on your skin and your slight shiver.

“Are you okay?” he asked, unsure but was met with only silence from your side. “It’s rude to not reply, you know?”

It finally made you look at him, your eyes staring right in his, still silent. Charles started to feel frustrated, he wanted to hear your voice, anything that could break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen down on both of you.

“Feeling less confident without a mic? You can’t hide anymore. It’s you and me, fighting like equals. No cameras, nothing.”

“I didn’t think you were nice.” You finally blurted out, throwing him off of his feet. “You… you have such a polished image, so neat, so…perfect. Never a word higher than the others. Always a nice smile and a word for everyone. So gentlemanly. No one is ever this kind and polite, I thought it was just a facade, that you must hide something. Because, surely, you can’t be that perfect.” You explained and Charles let out a sigh of relief.

“Well… that’s a very sad thought to have. I wonder what kind of assholes you must have met to have this view of the world. I’m not perfect, far from it, but I like to think that I’m a decent human being.”

“You would be surprised by the amount of not so nice people I’ve met these past few years.”

“Yeah?”

“I attract assholes.”

“I’m sure it’s not true.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. You’re here, no?��� you half smiled and Charles knew it was an attempt at a joke. A poor one.

“Well, maybe I could show you that not all people are assholes.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” you asked.

“What about starting from scratch?” he explained, extending his hand in your direction. “I’m Charles. What about you?”

Author's note: There is a little progress. Tiny, baby, little steps, but hey! You seriously didn't think I woud make it easy for them?

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @thirstylion @cmleitora @charizznorizz @sltwins @boherahpsody

[r4ikkonen]

NEW ENGINEER | Carlos Sainz x Engineer/reader

a/n Hey this feels so unfinished so let me guys know if you want a part two :)

“Im happy to announce that now you would be working for Scuderia Ferrari” Binotto said while shaking my hand

“It’s such a pleasure, thank you very much” Y/N said, she couldn’t stay still, it was a dream come true.Finally working for her favorite Formula 1 Team knowing how proud her dad had must been.After getting all the documents and files it was said that tomorrow she will meet the drivers and talk with them about the possible new car designs.She couldn’t be happier.

The next morning she came to the garage and met everyone.Binotto has already announced that she will be learning about everything in here.She has meet Charles so far and her other colleague that was an aerodynamicist.It still felt unreal to her.The aerodynamicist ordered her to fix a small problem on the rear wing.Which she gladly accepted.Not a 5 minutes had gone by and a big string figure had walked towards her.

“Hey I just wanted to announce myself, I’m Carlos.” The man said

“Oh hi I’m y/n and current i’m fixing your car” She said with a few chuckles

“Oh i can see” Carlos said giving her hand with some of the work.

She felt some sort of connection between the two of them.She tried her best not to blush, she didn’t want to seem unprofessional on her first day.

Few weeks have passed and the season has already started.The place took in Australia the first qualifications.Her job was to be Carlos’ engineer on the radio.She was responsible for almost everything.

“Don’t be so nervous, y/n” Carlos said gripping my shoulders, which made me look right into his dark brown eyes

“If you say so..” Y/N said still feeling nervous, in her head all the negative thoughts were running.What if something happened?What if Carlos crashes into something and it’s her fault?

Qualifications went fine, Charles qualified P4 while Carlos qualified P2.Which wasn’t so bad.Carlos came hugging her thight. “I knew you could do this!I told you it was going to be okay.” He said full of joy.This time we locked eye contact for few seconds but we quickly realised that we weren’t alone in the garage so we got back to work.I came up to Charles congratulating him on his P4 He did have some problems with his car, but he pulled that off easily.

“Heyy Charles good job out there!” y/n said placing her arm on his back.

“Eh it could have been better but okay.” Charles said in disappointment

“C’mon it’s not that bad I mean it’s quali”She tried cheering him up but sadly she failed.

We noticed Carlos looking at us and Charels turned to me and said “You know he likes you, right?”

The driver’s words just melted in my ears.I’ve blushed hoping it wasn’t noticeable “Uhm.. Carlos,No,no I don’t think so”

“Hmm.” He pouted and walked away to talk with Binotto

We were packing to go back to our homes.I was drinking my coffee in the motorhome and Binotto came up to me.

“Hey y/n you did great today!You were really on point.” His words made me feel like I was really at home.

“Ehm but watch out for Sainz, he kinda has a thing for you” Binotto said with a serious tone

“Don’t worry sbout it Mattia, I’m here to fix the cars” I said reassuring him.

I went back to my car and then Carlos approached me..

“Hey I just wanted to thank you for everything do you think that um.. we could go out on dinner so I can thank you properly?” Carlos said scratching the back of his neck slightly avoiding the eye contact between us.

“Sure thing Sainz” I kicked him him with my elbow in a playful way which he seemed to like. The rest of the evening I spent rambling to my best friend about everything that happened.I couldn’t stop thinking about Carlos that night.

[papipopsicle]

MERCENARY PART THREE

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Enhanced!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Summary: In which Hydra never seems to give Earth's Mightiest Heroes a break, and while dismantling every known base, they find a weapon. In which this weapon is a young woman whose known nothing but the life Hydra gave her, and a certain super soldier becomes protective of her from the first time they lock eyes. AU AWAY FROM IW&Endgame, ALSO THERE ARE X-MEN

Warnings: swearing, reference to scars

Song: Punching Bag by Palaye Royale

Words: 1.6K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

"Stark Industries and and the Wakanda Outreach programme has helped thousands of mutants and inhumans, why don't we just hand her over to them and be done with it?" Kitty Pryde mulled over the idea, rolling her eyes as the clock ticked over into the third hour of bickering.

Y/N's sedation would wear off within the next half hour and the team were still yet to come to an unanimous decision on what to do with her. She was currently fast asleep on a comfy bed inside a room which restricted the use of her powers- but she didn't know that yet.

Bucky had tried his best to remain objective, but as he watched the large monitor streaming footage from her room, he couldn't help but be reminded of the girl he watched grow up into a woman and how he'd already missed four years of her life.

"I'll monster watch tonight, James." Y/N hummed, playing with a small flame at her fingertips. She looked over her shoulder and found him watching her with worried eyes, yet she just smiled, "You haven't slept for three nights in a row now. Trust me, they'd hurt you a lot more if you fail your mission tomorrow than they will if I'm a bit grouchy. Sleep, moya lyubov."

"She'd still be a great addition to the team," Tony sighed, standing up to stretch his legs, "and by team I mean the Avengers, I don't even know why you're here quite honestly."

Kitty flipped him off before storming out, probably going to find Charles or Raven to vent to them about how much Stark pissed her off.

Natasha leant over the table, eyes not moving from the tablet in front of her, "Is she like you were, Barnes?"

Bucky tensed and looked at the redhead, "In what way?" He asked slowly.

Nat glanced over at Tony before finding the super soldier waiting for her response, "Did they manipulate her mind and create triggers that'd turn her into a murder machine? Is she at all loyal to Hydra?"

"Come on, you saw her earlier, Nat, Y/N had tried to escape that many times they had to chain her up." Steve tried to reason as he saw Bucky's flesh hand clench up.

"We should consider every possible angle though, right?" Bruce spoke up from his seat towards the back of the room, propping his glasses on his nose and taking a better look at the security footage, "She seems harmless, but-"

"She is harmless." Bucky stressed, "Sure, when you look at her file you see a genetically engineered super-assassin with elemental powers, but not one day passed without trying to escape or planning our next escape. And okay, fine, she enjoys violence, but Hydra conditioned her to be that way and she's never had anyone to tell her otherwise. At the end of the day, she's scared- and I don't want her waking up alone."

The soldier felt Steve's hand squeezing his shoulder in comfort, but it felt cold and the sentiment felt short. Bucky watched each pair of eyes fall away from his sight and their voices stayed silent. He shook off Steve's hand and left the room, making his way down to the supervisory level. He looked down at the small piece of technology in his hand, matching the number to the cell like room and entering a six digit code into the keypad from memory. A single second later it pinged and the lights turned green.

The one armed man stood in the doorway for a moment, watching Y/N's healing figure peacefully sleeping. It was a sight to behold, even in tattered clothes and a thick layer of grime and dust covering her, she was anything but a weapon. She was soft and even delicate to the eye, resting as if her mind wasn't plagued with the tortured souls from her past.

Bucky sat down on the cool wooden floor, crossing his legs like he used to at the age of eight, playing tic tac toe with a small Steven Grant Rogers. Those memories didn't feel much like his own, more at peace with the ones of war he shared with Y/N.

"Stop pulling your punches, their hands are worse than yours." Nineteen year old Y/N warned James with a sharp whisper. His flesh knuckles were scorched from her most recent attack, goaded to use her powers by the watchful handlers. Metal collided with bone and he knew on impact two ribs had fractured, a further one would bloom with bruises soon enough. Training was often more taxing than the missions themselves, bored Hydra agents pulling on puppeteer strings to ensure they put on a good show.

Y/N estimated another ninety minutes had past before her handler pulled her away for healing observations, for research rather than well-being purposes. It wasn't long until she found herself flung back into the dingy cell with a kick to the back of her knees and an expired first aid kit thrown to the ground beside her.

Once the door cranked shut, James knelt beside the stoic woman he knew was hurting so deeply within. He collected any supplies for sterilisation and allowed Y/N to collapse under his touch. She curled into his chest as he cleaned the wounds he caused, burnt knuckles stung from the movements but that was numb compared to the torment of seeing her in pain.

James was past the point of blaming himself for any injuries Y/N incurred from training and vice versa, too much of their precious time had already been taken away in arguments of how much the other was not at fault. Hydra allowed them one hour a day together, usually after training, to decompress and recover and mostly hold each other. Y/N had a knack for sneaking out of her cell to be with the super soldier, it took more time stopping her, punishing her and hauling her back than their current routine. Teamwork on missions became more efficient, so they were allowed their hour of peace unless it became a weakness.

That was when Y/N was most aware of time passing by, fingers habitually running over the rigid scars between metal and soft flesh as a reminder James was entirely real. He watched between the fire dancing in her free hand and the peace within tired features, her own eyes burning bright at his constant touch. The hour would soon be up, and there was no fight to leave each other other than the lingering fingertips as they were pulled apart.

"You cut your hair-" Y/N's gravelly voice was cut off with a harsh array of coughs, spluttering dust from her cell's destruction stuck in her lungs. She squinted at the bright sterile lighting, everything in the room intensely white with the exception of Bucky and his all black clothing sat at the bottom of her vision.

He dialled the lights down noticing Y/N's discomfort and handed her an unopened bottle of mineral water. Her eyes carefully surveyed his movements, not considering him a threat as she chugged the liquid gratefully.

"Do you like it?" He asked after a few seconds of silence had filled the air, taking a seat at the side of the mattress apprehensively. Four years had passed and although he trusted the woman he thought was dead with his life, she was indeed alive and Hydra could do a lot of damage in much less time apart. He had so many questions, so many missed touches longed for and so little worry that she was no longer his Phoenix.

Even with grime covering her from head to toe, Bucky couldn't take his eyes away from her as she scrunched her nose playfully and answered, "I'll miss your long hair, but this suits you- you look like a person."

Unlike Bucky, whose memories were fuzzy around the edges, for better or worse Y/N held all of hers. She remembered cutting his hair short for a mission the once and wishing Hydra wouldn’t let it grow out again. But seeing him this time was immaculate- he was his own human, and she looked to the dirt and disheveled clothing on her person and knew she wasn’t. Purely what she was engineered to be and not a thing more, a biological weapon owned only by Hydra.

Bucky sensed the mental downward spiral as she scanned herself, brows knitting together and tears welling threatening to fall.

He corralled her away from those cataclysmic thoughts with a cool touch to her hot fingertips, metal thumb running across the back of her hand soothingly. “It took a bit more than a hair cut, but the days I feel like a person outweigh the days I don’t. And we’ll get you there too.”

“Can I start that tomorrow?” Y/N pouted and lay against the plush pillows behind her head, content with the sounds of metal whirring against her skin that only super soldier hearing could pick up on.

The team, fewer members left in the conference room, watched the interaction from the projection. A few more words were shared before Bucky lay down beside Y/N, both infinitely still but continuing the motions on their joint hands. Steve’s chair rolled back a few inches as he eyed Tony, “Listen, I can already see Bucky following if we send her off somewhere, we’ve got to at least try re-humanising her.”

“Great, we adopted another murder machine- when the first one gets lonely, at least now he’ll have company!” Tony held his hands up in defence when Steve didn’t appreciate his humour, “Alright, Cap. We’ll observe, give it a few days and get to work on project no murder and less machine.”

part four?

taglist: @kcd15 @killjoynotes

want to be tagged? comment or send in an ask x

[safetycar-restart]

Heyy. So I've had a brain rot recently and it's about charles specifically about redbull charles like it is in the d/s au and he was in Ferrari and was feeling like he failed at being a f1 driver ( but ofc its bc of the team and strategist not bc of our golden boy) and reader manages to convince him to leave Ferrari and that they can secure a seat for him in redbull (maybe the reader works for redbull or smth) and charles after being failed yet again by his team he accepts the readers offer and joins redbull and then he is so much happier (bc he doesn't have to stress that the team might sacrifice him or that the car is going to be shit) and at the end it's like happy soft vibes

It can be also a lestappen fic if u want and by the way your writing is literally amazing ❤

And if u don't to write it u can just ignore the ask ,thank u and have a good day/afternoon/night 😊💛

Okay so I love this and I kinda ended up starting a new AU with this somehow? We already have a poly!lestappen d/s au but um, I guess now we have two of them because I love this. I'm gonna use the tag of 'teammates lestappen d/s au' for this.

So my thoughts immediately went to you being the Red Bull team dominant? So obviously max is already your submissive.

I think max really feels for Charles, because he knows exactly what it's like to have so much pressure put on him and to feel not good enough and like he's failing. For pretty much his entire racing career, his dad ensured he had dominants who were extremely strict and for whom nothing is ever good enough.

And so when he sees Charles so clearly struggling and he sees how the entire of Ferrari just leaves Charles out to dry and how Charles's dom never takes him out of media days or tries to protect him, he really feels sorry for him because he knows exactly what that feels like.

He tells you about this, because now that max has you he honestly has no idea how he managed to function the way he was being treated before, and he knows Charles is being treated like that now.

He and Charles have always gotten along well, and so Max introduces you to Charles, because he knows you are exactly the type of dominant that Charles needs.

Charles gets along so extremely well with you from the moment he met you, especially because you just provide Charles with so much gentle guidance? He's desperate for any kind of genuine love and care from a dominant, so for him to go out for lunch with you and max and have you order for him and then instruct him to take a drink of his water and call him a good boy? It's everything. It's by far the highlight of his week and his poor heart aches when you leave with max and he knows he has to go back alone and later that day his dominant will come over and punish him for something he didnt even know of.

I think it would actually be max who first tells Charles to leave Ferrari and come to red bull. You had been thinking that of course, but you were trying to come up with a delicate way of suggesting it.

Max, meanwhile, just blurts it out one day. You were having dinner with them at your apartment, Charles and max kneeling and Charles is talking about how Ferrari weren't listening to the feedback he gave them from his hours in the simulator and max just goes 'Just fucking leave already, christian would love to give you a seat. come join us."

Charles is shocked. He kinds just stutters for a moment and then makes up some excuse and practically runs out the door.

You arent too happy with max of course, but he was absolutely correct in what he said.

You have to have a conversation with Charles about it, and in order to make Charles speak to you, you have to get his number from max and actually order him to meet you. You'd normally never do that, but you need him to listen to you.

You tell him that he deserves better than Ferrari, and that you would be so honoured if he joined you and max. Which naturally makes him start crying and he ends up coming home with you that night and scening for the first time with you and max.

(I am obsessed with this, we need to talk more about it)

[penaltyboxboxbox]

okay i need to yell about the current charlos worldstate because im thinking so many insane and beautiful things rn but basically

okay okay rambling under the cut

LIKEEEEEEE idk obvs i am sad for the rarris and i want them to do well but its times when the failure appears that reminds me of whyyyy i find charlos so interesting

like they truly do have such a charming dynamic, they have fun together they laugh they find a lot of similarities in one another, and we joke we joke about how charles is like the nagging girlfriend at times and carlos the playfully bullying boyfriend its qualities that when we push into the more like. chaotic and bad side of the ship thats just so WOW

like we already see this weekend a bit of heat from charles that bit of annoyance but hes too polite too nice you get bits of passive aggression here and there he is so housewife coded....

so much of why i like charlos is in all honesty like. using one another as a channel for the frustration towards the team. solace in one another, someone else who UNDERSTANDS, who gets the way youre feeling towards the car towards the team etc etc etc... and it can be so sweet and soft and caring and it can also be sooo toxic and codependent and strange

i love a ship that feels like an uncomfortable marriage but theyre staying together because thats what they committed to. because theyre perfect for each other, duh. he understands what no one else does.

just like picturing charles after he spins out, just waiting watching and brewing full of just. annoyance and shame and sadness and anger but charles doesnt blow up, charles looks pitiful, just a race incident, no one to blame. (no one but himself of course the voice in the back of his head says) and carlos has it all on his shoulders the rest of the way. just trying to get something, anything for the team and he does. until he doesnt and again its not fair none of it's fair and he cant do anything lest it gets worse and they both fail in such spectacularly different directions and if that doesn't describe them so well what does.

The idea of finding comfort in one another against mutual failing, really being them taking out the frustrations on one another. Tell yourselves you just need a rough fuck to feel better but both knowing............charles knowing its punishment, its get better, its be smarter, it hurts and he should say something but be wont because he needs to be BETTER. and for carlos its release but not comfort its release in the way smashing in a window is, slashing a tire, screaming expletives at a retail worker who cant talk back, its taking back some scrap of power to make up for it all. and they tell themselves it helps, they come, they lay in each others arms afterwards and they do it again next time they fail. same failed strategy same failed result.

just a cycle of using each other for harm and calling it comfort but not knowing how to go on without it...its reliable thats for sure 👬 and you push down the guilt or the shame of what you did you ignore the bruises and the words you said and the things you begged for and pretend you dont hold it against him in any way but youve learned nothing can truly be trusted around here!!!! but thats a failure you'll reach when you get to it for now youre apart you'll lick your wounds and come back smiling hand in hand laughing at each others jokes staring lovingly at his smile running your fingers through his hair and for a while the car wont matter until it does . amen.

[icedroplove]

Chapter 2

-------x-----

When Juvia finally got back, they had already ordered. Gray waited for her to take the seat he saved next to him. When she did, he couldn’t help but notice the change in her demeanor. Something was bothering her, but there were no indications of what it was. Her eyes were puffy, she had cried. That surprised him since the woman looked like her usual self before she went to the bathroom. 

However, Gray didn’t want to make any comments or pressure her to talk about it. He knew from personal experience that it was a bother to have others pinpointing his sadness when all he needed was some space. He just hoped she would come to him if she needed someone to hear her thoughts. 

“Are you okay with pasta primavera? I know it’s your favorite, but if you want to eat something else I can ask for the waiter to replace your order.”

“There’s no need. It was very thoughtful of Gray-sama to remember Juvia’s favorite dish.” She offered him a tiny smile. Although this seemed to brighten her mood a little bit, he could still spot some clouds in her gaze. It was starting to worry him.

When the food came, everyone stopped talking to fill their stomachs from the long trip. The contrast from the loud group before and the silence that reigned at the table then was almost comical. Since the plates were well served, everyone felt satisfied by the end of the meal (even Natsu, but he didn’t count as he ordered three dishes for himself). They checked out and decided to head to the inn to get some rest. Surely the following days would require a lot of energy.

It was already dark when Team Natsu (plus Juvia) got there. Erza took the front and set everything with the receptionist as they relaxed in the lounge. After fifteen minutes, the redhead returned.

“Okay, from what it seems our client already booked the rooms for us and he’ll cover the booking expenses. We have three bedroom keys.”

“Just three? But we are…” Natsu stopped his sentence to look at the group and started counting “Six mages and two exceeds!”

Erza ignored her friend and told them how she organized the bedrooms. “We have two rooms with a king-sized bed and one that fits three people. Natsu, Lucy and Happy are going to sleep in bedroom number 4.”

“Sure.” Natsu said. With his habit of breaking into Lucy’s apartment and sleeping on her bed, sharing a room was no problem for the two friends. However, Gray didn’t fail to notice the faint blush that covered the blonde  girl’s cheeks.

“Gray, will sleep alone in bedroom number 6…”

“Hey, why does Frosty Lollipop get a room just for him?!”

“...While me, Wendy and Charl will sleep in bedroom number 5.”

Gray furrowed his brows. Then, where would Juvia sleep? Before he had the time to think of how to casually ask this, the redhead explained.

“Juvia, as we invited you to come after I sent to the client our names, he didn’t put you on the documents. But don't worry about that, I managed to solve this issue.

“Juvia is grateful for that, Erza!” Juvia answered. She seemed to have returned to her usual self in the last hour, which was a relief to Gray. “But where shall Juvia sleep?”

With the way accommodations were set, the only two possibilities were Juvia sharing the king sized bed with Erza… which he was sure would be tough because his childhood friend had the terrible habit of kicking in her sleep. When they were kids, sleepovers always ended with Gray on the ground while Natsu and Erza fought for space.

Another possible outcome would be… Gray’s bed. After all, he was the only one who had a room of his own. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? Certainly Juvia would be over the moon and beam at him and talk about how this was like the old times when they lived together. As for him, there was no doubt it would be nice. The only thing plaguing his mind was: would he be able to control himself and follow the very clear instructions from the book Minerva gave him?

Months ago, when Team Natsu was still on the one hundred years quest, they visited Sabertooth’s library. Gray had been intrigued with a lacrima that could spot any book given a name or subject. He tested it with some random commands, for example: “how to treat a woman”. To his surprise, a few books showed up. Even though his curiosity urged him to take a look (it wouldn’t hurt, right?) he didn’t even have time to do it before duty called again. 

Later that day, Minerva called him in private and said that she found the book he was looking for. What? How did she know? Either way, she handed it to him. “How to love powerful women”, it was called. At first, he found the idea of actually reading a book so he could be less miserable completely absurd. He would figure it out alone. Even so, he kept it in his travel bag.

There was one night, though, when he reconsidered. They were going back to Magnolia and Gray was getting anxious. He promised himself that as soon as he became a man who deserved Juvia he’d make her his, but how exactly? Of course, loving her was the most important part, but come on, that girl was a hopeless romantic. She dreamed of having 32 babies with him, for Mavis’s sake! What exactly did it take to be a good partner? And, his most immediate concern, where did he even start?

Defeated, Gray opened that stupid book. When the sun came up, he had already finished it. He remembered vividly all the book's remarks on how to ask a girl out, how to kiss her, how to make… Anyway…

The question in his mind was: would sleeping next to Juvia be a good thing for the way he planned things to progress? What if he rushed the steps? Gosh, why was all of this SO HARD?

You know what? Screw it.

“I guess she could-”

“Juvia, you’ll share the double bed with me.” Erza glares at Gray and lifts an eyebrow, both intrigued and challenging. She throws at him one bedroom key and hands Lucy the other. “Let’s go.”

-x-

Juvia wakes up with a scream stuck in her throat. She’s sweating and breathing quickly. It takes a moment for her to remember where she is. She looks up at the bed where Erza just kicked her from. The fall must have woken her from the nightmare.

Everything 's okay. Juvia's at the inn. Gray-sama doesn’t hate her, nor does he think she’s disposable.

Her encounter with Bora still plagued her mind. Even though Juvia didn’t have any sort of feelings for him, it still hurt knowing that he didn’t even remember who she was. They dated for months back when she was at Phantom Lord and even with him being roughly ten years older now, she still recognized the man. Juvia didn’t even change that much apart from her hair and clothes! This shouldn’t have made her feel bad as she was aware that Bora wasn’t a good guy. Back then he constantly forgot about their dates and put her down, even broke it off because of her gloomy rain. Then, why did this matter so much to her? She had a family now, she had Gray-

Gray.

They had come a long way to get where they were now. Juvia had to admit, she was kind of freaky at the beginning and it wasn’t something she was proud of, but eventually she found a way to keep true to the pureness of her love without overstepping any boundaries. That had been thanks to some talks Gajeel had with her over the years. Her best friend was one of the most reliable people he had next to her and she knew she could trust him on this matter. Even though he wasn’t a super romance enthusiast, he did find love himself, so he knew a thing or two. And, as Juvia very slowly started to be less over the edge, Gray also changed his demeanor. It was impossible not to notice. It hadn’t been a fast change, on both sides, but since the war against Alvarez and mainly the one hundred years quest, they seemed to have found themselves in a comfortable middle ground.

She was so happy with the possibility that he might finally return her feelings for him. However, she was afraid to expect too much and only find her heart broken. There had been close calls in the past, times when she was sure they were on the same page and then he pushed her away. She was reluctant to believe. Was that wrong? Did her doubt over him ever loving her back make her love weaker?

Juvia got up and rubbed her temples, trying to take all these thoughts away. She needed energy for the next day, which meant having a good night of sleep, preferably without any nightmares. She walked to the balcony for some fresh air. 

The moon was bright and beautiful in the night sky. After admiring it for a bit, she closed her eyes and felt the breeze against her face. Juvia took a deep breath and felt her body start to calm down. Suddenly, a rush of cold air came from her left. She didn’t need to open her eyes to recognize his magic.

Gray was leaning against the border of the balcony, too concentrated on his hands to notice her presence. Juvia quietly observed the man as he used his power, Usually, his magic formed swords, fighting eagles, big shards of ice to attack his enemy. Juvia loved to see when it was used to create beautiful, delicate objects. She couldn’t see exactly what it was, but it looked like a chain. 

He cursed at a mistake he made and that made Juvia giggle. That was when he first noticed her presence on the balcony of her room. They were side by side this whole time, but he was so focused that he didn’t even notice. How cute.

“Hey.” He whispered, trying not to make too much noise since it was the middle of the night. 

“Good night, Gray-sama. Did you have trouble sleeping?”

He nodded, letting a sigh out of him. “Guess my nap on the train was too long, I feel too awake now.”

“Oh.” Juvia muttered. That made sense.

“I guess that’s the same case for you.”

“Yes, it is.”

Actually, Juvia didn’t sleep at all during the ride. She had been so excited about her Gray-sama resting his head on her shoulder that her body didn’t relax for a second.

They stayed in a very comfortable silence for the next couple of minutes. As Gray kept working on that ice chain, Juvia looked at the buildings and let her fertile imagination guess how life was at the village. From what she observed from now, there were a few markets, stores and restaurants but most of the space was occupied by houses. However, as Residential as Aster village was, Juvia didn’t feel like it was a warm place. People were unwelcoming and dry. Some looked scared of them, others looked down on the newcomers… It carried a heavy aura that she didn’t enjoy.

“Juvia.” 

Gray called her in a whisper. When he saw he caught her attention, he threw her something from his right wrist. After catching it, Juvia opened her hand and took a look at what he gave her.

It was a necklace. The chain she caught him making before was thin and secured a pendant in the shape of a water drop. It was so simple, yet made her heart warm instantly. Juvia pinned it around her neck and held the drop between her fingers, admiring the precious ice-made jewelry.

“It’s beautiful, Gray-sama.”

Gray smiled back at her. Before he could say something, both of them heard a loud thump and rumbling from Lucy and Natsu’s bedroom. Probably Natsu kicked Lucy from the bed. Juvia let out a giggle. She noticed that Gray’s eyes were starting to drop and she could feel a yawn trying to come out from her. 

“Juvia should go to bed.. and Gray-sama too.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

After a moment of silence, they both got back to their respective rooms. Juvia slept like a baby for the rest of the night.

[f1]

Monaco was just bad luck says Verstappen after fathers criticism of teams strategy | 2022 Azerbaijan Grand Prix

Max Verstappen’s father described his third place finish in Monaco as “very disappointing” and questioned Red Bull’s choice of strategy, but the driver chalked the result up to bad luck. Jos Verstappen said Red Bull “exerted little influence to help Max to the front” in the race which was won by his team mate Sergio Perez.” “That he finished third, he owes to Ferrari’s mistake at that second stop of Charles Leclerc,” the former F1 driver continued in a column for his son’s website. “The championship leader, Max, was not helped in that sense by the chosen strategy. It turned completely to Checo’s favour. That was disappointing to me, and I would have liked it to be different for the championship leader.” However Verstappen saw little opportunity for Red Bull to secure a better finish for him given his fourth-place starting position. He equalled his worst starting position of the season so far after Perez’s crash at the end of qualifying meant Verstappen was unable to complete his final lap. “My race was done on Saturday already after that red flag where I had to start fourth,” said Verstappen. “And then that’s how it goes. Then in the race you are the second car so you just follow the team’s orders.” Red Bull had luck on their side to take first and third after sharing the second row at the start, said Verstappen. “I think we did that extremely well as a team to get the cars where they ended up,” he said. “We got also a bit lucky with backmarkers holding up the Ferraris and stuff like that. But that’s fine, in Monaco, crazy things can happen. Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free “I was just a bit more disappointed about that Q3 run where I couldn’t finish my lap. But that’s also Monaco. The same happened also last year in Monaco and also here in Baku with a red flag. So in a street circuit that’s really easily done. It’s only one race weekend, we have so many more to go where normally you can overtake even if, let’s say, there’s a bit of a disappointment in qualifying.” Despite finishing third Verstappen out-scored his closest championship rival, Charles Leclerc. Having failed to finish in the Bahrain and Australian grands prix due to car problems, Verstappen said he was pleased to still be in the lead of the championship. “Monaco was probably just a bit of an unlucky one,” he said. “But it’s okay, we’re still leading the championship. “Of course, I retired twice already, so to be even leading the championship with the margin I have at the moment, I think it’s very positive. We just look ahead and a lot of good things are coming but hopefully it’s going to be enough.” Red Bull team principal Christian Horner said the team didn’t have any better strategic options for Verstappen as pitting him at a different time would have risked dropping him into traffic. “What wasn’t apparent for Jos was all the information that we have during a race,” said Horner. “And of course, if we had pitted, he would have come out behind, I think, George [Russell] at the time.” “Jos is his own person, isn’t he, he’s his own personality,” Horner added. “He’s obviously got opinions, and that’s absolutely fine. That’s his opinion. The reality for us was obviously slightly different. So it’s no issue.” Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free 2022 Azerbaijan Grand Prix Browse all 2022 Azerbaijan Grand Prix articles via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 16

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.3k

Recommended song: “The Thrill” by Wiz Khalifa & Empire of the Sun

Your Saturday gets off to a great start when you spot Sylvie lurking in the corner of the garage. The woman pointedly raises an eyebrow at you when she notices you, the simple action setting you on edge. You glare at her in return, having none of it while Pierre suits up.

"Take care of this for me, will you?" Pierre places his cap backwards on your head. You smile, adjusting it so it's out of your eyes.

"I will." You glance over his shoulder before chastely kissing his cheek. You'd deal with Sylvie later; Pierre didn't need any distractions when he was about to get out on track.

"Nope, not acceptable." Pierre kisses your lips, completely unaware of the shit you'd likely catch as soon as he was gone because of it. 

You sigh and take half a step back. Having none of it, Pierre places a knuckle under your chin, tipping your face towards him.

"Sylvie making you nervous?" The pad of his thumb sweeping over your jaw gives you something solid to focus on. "I can ask her to leave if she is."

You shake your head. "Not nervous, no. But she's getting under my skin."

Pierre sets down his helmet and waves off Pyry who tries to shove it back in his hands, prepared to address the matter and hash out a solution immediately. "What's going on?"

"It's not a big deal," you try, "I can tell you after practice. You've only got a few minutes until lights out."

"I want to know now, mon amour."

Fighting was pointless. He would stand here until you spilled the beans so you might as well get it over with so he could get out on track. "Fine. Sylvie cornered me Thursday and asked me to lay low this weekend because of some interview you did. She gave me a copy of it but I didn't read it. She said it's bad for your image to be seen doting on me when you've got races to win."

Pierre blinks, head swiveling in slow motion. Sylvie watches your interaction like a hawk, waiting for either of you to slip up. "And you kept this to yourself?"

"I didn't want to distract you. You've got a job to do." A blush creeps up your neck and settles on the apples of your cheeks. "Sylvie was mad enough at me, I didn't want her in your face too."

A muscle in his jaw ticks. "That's bullshit. I stood up for you. That's why she's pissed. I told them you were just as important to me as racing."

Your heart somersaults in your chest. "You said that in an interview? Pierre, that's-"

Pierre drops Sylvie's stare and meets yours. "I love you and I won't apologize for it. I don't have time to talk to her now though- are you okay being here with her until after practice?"

"I'll be okay as long as you top the time charts," you tell him, a smile playing on your lips. When you'd gotten back together you had told yourself nothing would come between the two of you again, up to and including nosy PR agents who couldn't keep their hands out of your business.

"I will, just for you." Helmet in hand, he pecks your cheek before heading to the car. Pierre shoots Sylvie a glare and says something to Pyry before clambering into the car.

Pyry doesn't leave your side for the entirety of practice, chasing off Sylvie each time she tries to approach you. Pierre nearly tops the charts, sitting second fastest on the famed street circuit. Only Max clocked a faster time, which didn't surprise anyone. Pierre's side of the garage erupts when he is wheeled inside and is met with claps on the back and wide smiles from his team.

Confidence radiates from him as he peels off his helmet and thanks his team. A grin from ear to ear splits his face as he makes his way to you before he even bothers to unzip his suit. Before you know it he's swept you in his arms and planted a kiss on your lips.

"It's not first, but I'll take second if you're waiting here when I get back."

"It's only practice," you remind him, swiping away a bead of sweat from his neck with the pad of your thumb. "But you drive like that for quali in a few hours and you might get your first pole."

"What did I tell you?" Sylvie hisses, ruining the moment and sending you crashing back to earth. 

Instead of falling into line, Pierre's grip on your waist tightens. "Leave her alone, Sylvie."

"This isn't good for you," the woman insists. "People are saying you've gone soft-"

"I don't care what they say. My results speak for themselves." And they did. Second fastest today in practice, despite Monaco being a track that Pierre generally had a poor record at. "When I start slipping to the back of the pack you can talk to me about it. But even then it's out of your wheelhouse. I don't care what the gossip columns have to say about me-"

Pierre breaks off and you can see the pieces clicking in his head. "You've never cared either, not even when I got demoted. Horner put you up to this, didn't he?"

Sylvie straightens under the weight of Pierre's question, good enough as giving him an answer. "I have a job to do."

"And so do I." His words freeze over, his attitude icy. "How about you back off and let me do it? I don't need another person breathing down my neck. And she certainly doesn't either. And you know what? I'll make you a deal. If I win tomorrow, you leave us alone and keep your nose out of my personal life."

"You'll thank me when your name is out of the tabloids." Bewildered, you stare after her until Pierre's lips meet your temple, the simple gesture sending a tingle down your spine.

"I wish it was easier for us," you murmur, placing a hand on his broad chest as if you were the only two in the garage. "But as long as I have you, it's worth the fight."

"Don't let it get to you. You make me a better racer, no matter what anyone says. You taught me that I have something to fight for. You're the one that picks me up when I don't think I can make it. Without you, I probably would've blown my chance at taking seventh in the championship."

"And I'm the one that tells you when it's time to get your ass back in the car and race your heart out." You grin up at him, not caring for a second who was watching this time when you kiss him. "I expect you to be a pole sitter next time you're back in this garage. I might have already told my mom it was happening, so don't make me a liar."

"If I take pole, will you wear my cap again tonight? Just my cap?"

"That could be arranged."

**********

Pierre may not have taken pole, but qualifying fifth was more than enough reason to treat him to fulfilling his request. With only the Red Bulls, Charles and Hamilton ahead of him, you were confident he could at minimum hold his position, and at best his team would come up with a strategy that saw him undercut one or two of the guys ahead and put him on the podium.

As usual, Pierre gets to the circuit a few hours early to clear his head and walk the track one last time. Since it’s not a mandatory part of his race preparation, you take the opportunity to walk with him. The clouds part just enough for the sun to shine down on him, practically glowing in the light. Apparently not even the celestial bodies were immune to his beauty, coming out solely to appease him. Your gaze eats up the curve of his throat as he tips his head back to enjoy the golden rays warming his skin.

“Beau Rivage,” he murmurs as you come up to the right hand bend. “One of the few spots for overtaking, if you’re lucky.” Pierre studies the pavement, noting where patches of gravel had built up and toeing them with his shoe. His commitment was something to behold; not even Max could be bothered with a track walk on Wednesday, and forget about waking up with the dawn to participate in an optional one on race day.

Pierre was different though, throwing himself into the sport and refusing to commit anything less than a hundred percent. That commitment was one of the things that had drawn you to him in the first place and continued to be something you admired. You missed him when you were apart, but hearing the thrill in his voice when he spoke about racing lines or braking points never failed to remind you that he was living his dream and you would never stand in his way.

You thread your fingers through his, soaking it in as he walks you through the track. This wasn’t an opportunity you had often and you were determined to embrace and enjoy it.

“Massenette and Casino Square. This braking zone is tricky, if you go too wide you’ll lose seconds of time and probably a good chunk of your front wing, unless by some miracle you miss the barrier.”

Having little to offer to his assessment, you rest your head on his shoulder as you walk. You try to see the track through his eyes, picturing the cockpit around you as you attempt to pick out an adequate braking point.

You continue on in amiable silence, stopping once or twice so Pierre can take pictures with fans and chat with them. Eventually you come to a corner you recognize, one of the most infamous.

“I know this one.” You puff out your chest, holding an imaginary microphone to your lips. “The Lowes hairpin. Slowest corner on the calendar. The cars decelerate to 65 kph, a feat achieved nowhere else.”

Pierre throws his head back and laughs, making your heart stutter. You never wanted to go another day without hearing the full-bellied sound, rich and rife with more happiness than should be humanly possible. “You only know that because Crofty and Brundle bring that up every race, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” You beam back at him when he shakes his head, the action more to say I knew it than to express disappointment. Because he could never be disappointed in you, especially not for taking an interest in what he loved. You tended to queue up archived races to listen to in the background as you studied, meaning it was inevitable that some of the quips from the commentators rubbed off on you sooner or later.

“Now this is my favorite,” Pierre says, adjusting his cap to keep the sun out of his eyes.

“The swimming pool chicaines? Why?” They were considered boring by most racers, flat out but navigable by muscle memory if you’d had enough practice.

Pierre’s self assured grin leaves you in a puddle on the pavement. “Cause I’ll be jumping in that pool today, and I’m taking you with me.”

"I don't think so." You point to the hoodie you wore, one that you had stolen from his closet ages ago and since refused to give back under any circumstances. "I'm in irreplaceable gear. I don't want to ruin it."

Pierre rolls his eyes, dropping your hand in favor of slinging an arm around your shoulders. "I love it when you wear my clothes. My hat yesterday, my hoodie today, anything really. I love having that claim on you."

"If only I could get you to wear some of mine," you muse as the pit boxes come into view. 

"If you ask nicely, I'd consider it."

The garage is thrumming with anticipation before Pierre even enters. Checo’s engine penalty is all anyone can talk about, his subsequent start from the pit lane meant Pierre would effectively move up a place and start fourth.

Pierre is whisked away as soon as Tost spots him, the warm old man greeting you before stealing your boyfriend away. You know your way around well enough to be comfortable, staking out your spot along the back wall to observe the team's preparations. The early wake up call was quickly catching up with you however, your lack of movement causing you to stifle a yawn with the back of your hand.

"You look like you could use a coffee."

A young woman about your age steps into your line of sight and holds out a steaming foam cup. "Er, sure, thanks."

"Alana," she says, sticking her hand out for you to shake. "I'm one of the junior engineers for the team. I've seen you around once or twice, I figured it was about time I introduced myself."

"Thank you for the coffee, Alana." You lift the cup in mock salute and take a sip, the contents rich and flavorful. "I swear, I don't know what you guys lace this with, but it's addictive as hell."

The two of you share a laugh that earns you a few confused glances. "I think we're gonna be great friends," she says, tapping her own cup against yours. "It's nice to see another woman around the paddock. Sometimes it gets a little testosterone heavy."

You nod, taking another swig. You can practically feel the caffeine working, already a little more alert than you were minutes ago. 

"It's great luck." 

"Pierre moving up a place?"

Alana laughs, her ponytail swaying as she shakes her head. "No, I meant you being able to attend the race. You picked the best weekend to be trackside, the podium celebrations are the best."

Pierre startles you by snaking an arm around your waist and planting a kiss on your cheek.

"There's our star," Alana says, her smile bright and optimistic. "Better bring your team another trophy! The next one is going in the engineering department, they already have a little plaque made up and everything. I can see it right from my desk."

"Oh I'll bring one home," he replies, his hand casually grazing your ass as he moves to stand beside you. "I already promised her I would and I'm a man of my word."

"I know you will." 

"You have those time tables I asked about?"

"They're in the engineering suite." Alana hooks a thumb over her shoulder and smiles at you. "You're welcome to come back with us. He concentrates better when you're around anyway."

"Are you sure?" Red Bull never let you anywhere near proprietary data. You and any of Max's guests had always been corralled into the vip suite with the occasional venture down into the garage when they were wrapping up.

"You're part of the family," Alana explains as if it was obvious. "Of course I'm sure."

Pierre grins and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze. His team knew he wanted you near and they were willing to bend the rules to make it happen. "We'll try not to bore you to death." 

You sit through a half hour worth of numbers and codes you didn't understand, your arm slung around the back of Pierre's chair. He offers tidbits and asks questions while Alana and the other engineers walk him through scenarios, ensuring he has everything down. The way he spoke was quite possibly the hottest thing you've ever had the pleasure of witnessing, aside from post race Pierre with his sweaty hair sticking up in every direction and an adrenaline infused smile on his red cheeks.

Before you know it the two of you are ushered off to his driver's room, Pierre changing into his fireproofs and suit while you treat yourself to some of the snacks lying about. Pyry knocks just as Pierre zips his suit up to his chin.

"Hunt 'em down," you say, resting your forehead to his and stealing a moment for the two of you.

"Always do."

And god, does he ever.

Ten laps in, Hamilton is complaining about the balance of his Mercedes, the gap between himself and Max is only a few seconds and rapidly decreasing. The headphones you wear allow you to catch snips of driver radio and team communications, and you gather that Hamilton is slowly losing power. No one is sure if it's an electronics issue or an engine issue but they aren't complaining either.

Flawless pit stops from most teams see little shift in track positions, Pierre still holding fast to P4 a little over halfway through the seventy eight laps. Alpha's stellar strategy sees him rejoin fifth after sliding into the pits for a set of mediums to take him to the end of the race.

"Gap to Norris three seconds ahead," comes the voice in your ear. 

Pierre clings tight to the rear of Lando's papaya McLaren ahead, using DRS to his advantage and practically toying with the younger racer, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

Three short laps later, Pierre skirts around the McLaren at Beau Rivage and reclaims fourth.

Hamilton's ability to stretch tire performance to the maximum means he gets ten more laps before he's in the pits, Max closing in on his track position. The Mercedes crew stumbles, the pit stop more than twice as long as it should be, and Hamilton rejoins fourth.

"In the podium places," Pierre's engineer states.

Seconds later, white smoke pours from Max's Red Bull and he pulls off, causing a yellow flag and bunching up the pack.

P2, with only the Ferrari standing between Pierre and a win.

"Easy pickings Pierre, choose your moment."

Your heart pounds and your nails bite into your palms as Pierre goes around the outside at the hairpin, the entire garage shouting when he somehow gets away clean and the Monegasque backs off enough for Pierre to take the lead.

"P1 mate, two laps to go, two laps."

Pierre's brisk copy tells you all you need to know. He wasn't about to let this win slip through his fingers. Neck craned up at the screen, you watch as Pierre fights tooth and nail to fend off his friend, gasping audibly when a slight lockup nearly causes the two to collide around a chicane.

When he crosses the line, all you hear is a staticy scream.

Pierre Gasly, you are a Monaco Grand Prix winner!

It almost doesn't feel real how everyone around you begins jostling for the podium, their momentum carrying you along. A combination of luck and skill had seen him skyrocket to the top.

When you finally catch a glimpse of him in parc ferme, he stands atop the halo, arms spread wide amongst the deafening cheers of both Red Bull sister teams. Pressed between sweaty bodies, his team all push to the front to be the ones to congratulate him. 

You blink back hot tears. Pierre had fought incredibly hard to be on that top step, not just today but the entire season. Being demoted from Red Bull last year had been a backhanded blow, one that when coupled with his insistence on going back to the team in the future had warranted a feeding frenzy of media that ebbed and flowed as rumors surfaced. He'd been under the microscope ever since, struggling to keep his head above water but managing to come out on top.

Someone pushes you forward just as he takes off his helmet, his grin wild and unrestrained. Your mouth is open, his name on the tip of your tongue when a hand closes around your arm.

"This isn't your moment," Sylive says, near shouting to be heard over the roar. "No one wants to see you up there in the frame. This is his podium, let the media see that."

This woman really wanted to be knocked out, didn't she?

"He just won the prix." Dumbfounded at her audacity, you shake your head. "Leave us alone, he won."

"He could win the championship and I would still tell you to back off. There's hundreds of cameras out there, do you even have it in you to hold yourself together when they're all flashing at you?"

If she had asked you that question a few months ago, the answer would have been no, absolutely not. Now that you'd been to hell and back it was an entirely different story. You could walk through the throng and come out the other side unscathed if you had your best friend and partner at your side. He would shield you for the worst of it, be their punching back in order to make the burden bearable.

"Sylvie, if you don't get your hands off me-"

"Oh, sure," she says, releasing you with a smile. "He's already gone anyway. I only needed a minute."

Brow furrowed, you investigate her claim to find the truth of it. Pierre was already being herded away towards the podium, toweling off the residual sweat and setting his helmet on the provided stand. He throws one last glance over his shoulder before climbing the steps to the podium, his baby blue eyes cloudy when they should have been sunny.

Pierre's team principal calls your name as the boys take their places on the steps, gesturing for you to join him at the barriers. "Where were you? He was looking for you."

"No, I know," you start, shaking your head and gazing up at your racer. "Sylvie has it in her head that I shouldn't be photographed with him-"

"Say no more," Tost says, then pauses as the crowd claps. "I've never liked her."

"You and me both," you say under your breath as the anthems play. 

Pierre's hungry gaze scours the crowd for you, hands folded neatly behind his back while he bounces on his feet. When he finally spots you in Tost's shadow his shoulders straighten the tiniest bit, like he had been half expecting you to be absent. The pride in his posture is reflected in your smile, a fact that he picks up on and leverages to shine even brighter. 

Absently, you register the shutter of a camera going off as you beam up at Pierre. Your winner locks eyes with you before popping the cork of his champagne and spraying his fellow podium sitters, Daniel and Charles, before taking a long swig. Daniel blows a kiss to his girlfriend who mimes catching it and tucking it away while Pierre simply wraps Charles in an embrace, marveling in their first shared Formula 1 podium.

Pierre is surprisingly the first to leave, stalking off with his trophy and bottle in hand before the cameras have even stopped rolling. You track his progress, the crowd slowing him like he was a marble trying to sink through molasses. His thanks are short, his smile tight as he makes his way to you, eyes locked on his target and utterly unwilling to yield.

You meet him at the barrier which you still haven't been allowed to cross thanks to security taking their job far too seriously. Pierre doesn't care, tucking his trophy under his arm and unhooking a section so that you can slip through.

A laugh bubbles out of you when he wraps you in a bone crushing hug, lifting you off your feet and spinning in circles. Taking his face in your hands you kiss him passionately, wholly aware of the cameras on you. This was your moment to share with him; your universe had narrowed to his arms around you and the sweat-slick skin beneath your fingers.

"Congratulations," you murmur against his lips. "How's it feel to be a Monaco grand prix winner?"

"Better now that I've gotten to hear you say it." The brim of his Pirelli cap gets in the way when he tries to kiss you again and he turns it around.

"You gonna celebrate tonight, race winner?" The endearment works just as you had wanted it to, pride and something more primal flashing in his eyes.

His voice drops, his wicked grin already causing heat to pool in your core. "I have a few ideas."

"Me too." Now that the crowd has disappeared somewhat, you grow bold and nip at his lower lip. It sends a thrill through you to rile him up so publicly, his fingers tightening on your hips in surprise.

"Mon amour, you stop that right now." The slight shake in his voice betrays his true feelings. "I still have to weigh in and debrief."

"Maybe I want you thinking of me while you're there." You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning when he gulps. "Thinking of all the things I'll let you do when you get back to the apartment. Charles will be gone all night partying with Ferrari, I'm sure. We'll have the place to ourselves."

"We've got a full night ahead of us." He grins, tongue darting out over his lips. "We've got the winners dinner too."

You tip your head to the side. "Winners dinner? I don't-"

Someone calls his name and you both look in their direction. A race official, clearly fed up with your little display of love, waves Pierre over.

"Duty calls." Reluctantly, Pierre sets you back on your feet and passes off the champagne before he retreats to answer questions or whatever it was the official needed from him.

Watching him walk away, all you can think about is getting him back to the apartment. But first, you'd drag it out as much as he'd let you.

*********

Pierre spends the entirety of the debrief locked in an unending battle between thinking of you in compromising positions and actually giving feedback to his team. It wasn't his fault that you planted the seed in his mind; he couldn't help but expand on what your dirty little lips had whispered in his ear once he finally found you after the podium. 

"Okay, I think that's all we have. See you all at the pool in an hour," Alina says, and Pierre practically rips off his headset and sprints back to his driver's room. He bursts in without stopping to knock, earning him a yelp as you drop your phone on your face.

"Ow. A warning would be nice."

"I don't care," Pierre breathes, locking the door behind him and crossing to where you lay on the couch in a few long strides. "I've got an hour till I'm due to make an appearance for the cameras at the pool, care to make it memorable?"

"Oh, I don't know." You pick your phone back up and continue scrolling through it after giving him a once over. Leaving his race suit on and half undone served dual purposes: he didn't have to change again before the photo op at the pool and it drove you crazy. Apparently, his plan hadn't worked as well as he had hoped. "I kinda like seeing you all worked up."

"Come on," he practically whines, dropping to his knees to meet your glinting eyes. "Please?"

"I think you can wait." The corners of your mouth tug up and it's all he can do to resist leaning forward dragging your full bottom lip between his teeth. Energy still thrums through him, the adrenaline not yet faded.

Noting his stare, you roll your eyes. "Okay, one kiss-"

He doesn't let you finish, leaping on the opportunity to get a tiny sliver of what he wants. His tongue prods your lip and he groans when you open and allow him to explore. Hands glide over your hips while yours find his shoulders, nails digging in through the thin material of his fireproofs. Without breaking the kiss Pierre slots himself above you, a leg on either side of yours and caging your head between his forearms where they rest on the arm of the couch.

When he grinds his hips against yours in search of any sort of relief, you turn your head to the side. Pierre doesn't care, simply trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck. The building could be burning to the ground around him and he wouldn't move, too enraptured by you to be bothered.

"Pierre, my love, be patient." You push lightly at his chest and he finally breaks away, chest heaving. God, he needed you. Hadn’t stopped thinking about you once since he crossed that finish line in first. "Where's that unwavering self restraint you show on the track?"

"I'm not racing." He possessed no self restraint when it came to you. In your presence every sane thought flew out the window, replaced by the sound of your laugh and the shape your mouth made when you said his name.

"Waiting makes it sweeter," you tease, the phrase jangling something loose in his brain. He had said the same thing months ago when your roles had been reversed. If he could go back in time and slap himself upside the head for uttering those words, he would.

Pierre sits up with a huff and pulls you into his lap. "No fair. I just won a race, at Monaco no less, and you're gonna tell me I have to wait when you're sitting here looking perfectly edible?"

You tip your head back and laugh. "I am, because I know you'll enjoy it more tonight."

"But we have the drivers dinner too-"

You put a finger to his lips, which he immediately bites softly. "Be patient. I know you can do it, big boy."

Pierre groans, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head fall forward to rest on your sternum. "I'm going to remember this."

Your traitorous fingers wind in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. "How about a massage while you wait, hmm? Would that calm some of this energy you've got built up?"

"No," he grumbles, pressing a kiss to your chest. "That'll make it worse."

"Well then I think it's a perfect idea." Pierre makes you work for it, forcing you to peel his hands off your hips one at a time before you can stand. "Fireproofs off and on your tummy, come on then."

Pierre obeys, eagerly tossing his shirt across the room. He knew he'd regret it and your teasing would leave his head spinning, but anything that got him closer to you was acceptable.

"Lay down." 

The command stirs something in his chest. He kisses you once before pillowing his arms under his head and allowing you to straddle his thighs. Your knuckles work at the stiff cords of muscle along his spine and he doesn't tamp down on the small noises of pleasure that start in the back of his throat. Once in a while you lean forward to press a kiss to his bare back, each one setting off a chain reaction in him that goes straight to his cock.

When you reach the base of his spine, he goes completely limp under your fingers. "Merde," he whispers, both a plea and a praise. "Right there, baby."

Something had been digging into his back during the race and it caused a knot to form by his left hip. A low moan escapes him before he can stop it and you hum in approval.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

"So good," is all he manages to get out around the noise in his brain. His head is filled with your touch, reducing him to ash beneath you. You work at the spot until it's pliable, sweeping your thumb over it once more for good measure. You finish up with his back and move to his arms, dancing over the swells of muscle like you'd been a masseuse your entire life.

"God, where did you even learn this? You're better than Pyry."

"YouTube. And that's because it's different when it's someone you love versus your trainer. I can drag it out and let you enjoy it more."

He's completely lost track of time when the alarm on his phone goes off, signaling the end of this current round of torture.

"You know you're coming with me to the pool," Pierre says matter of factly as you climb off him. He stands and rolls his shoulders, bouncing on his toes. "I feel like a brand new man."

You guide his fireproof shirt back over his head after retrieving it from wherever you'd tossed it earlier. You zip his race suit up with a wink that almost makes hims say fuck it and miss the event entirely. "Glad I could be of assistance."

Hand in hand, Pierre leads you through the paddock and falls in with the Alpha team as they head for the swimming pool. Being around his crew again brings the excitement of his win back to the surface and he's practically buzzing with it by the time they arrive at the gate. Journalists, photographers and a few of his fellow drivers mingle about the packed space, some of them clapping him on the back and offering praise. None of it truly registers until Max, usually hot-headed after a DNF like he had suffered today, pulls him in for a hug.

"Great racing, mate. You deserved that one, that's for sure."

"You better play nice with him next year Max." You wag your finger at the Dutchman, earning you a chuckle. "Or I'll have to take matters into my own hands."

"Now that's something I'd pay to see: you versus Christian Horner. A mighty fight."

Not wanting to jinx it, Pierre doesn’t comment on your confidence that he’ll be on Max’s team next year. His win today had seen him move up comfortably into eighth, and he was closing in on Lando quickly. As long as he played his cards right and finished higher up in the points, he was starting to think he could pull it off.

Pierre doesn't note Sylvie's approach until she clears her throat and all three of you turn in tandem. Pierre picks up on the way your demeanor instantly shifts from light and playful to defensive and he puts himself between the two of you.

"Photo op time."

"Right yeah." Pierre squeezes your hand in farewell and follows Sylvie to where a spot has been cleared at the head end. Standing there before the water, Daniel's dramatic belly flop comes to mind and Pierre knows he has to top that celebration or he'll never hear the end of it.

Someone- maybe you, he couldn't quite tell- starts a chant of his name, growing louder and louder until it reaches a fever pitch. His cheeks hurt from smiling so wide and he spreads his arms, his head falling back and eyes sliding shut as he lets the chant wash over him. Letting it sink in that he stood on the top step of the podium at the most legendary track in Formula 1, his name now joining the likes of Senna and Schumacher as Monaco grand prix winners.

He's drunk on it, on the screams and the shouts and the general feeling of being on top of the world and being untouchable.

Head dizzy, he searches for you, shooting you a wink when he spots you crouched right on the edge of the pool. God, you were gorgeous, wearing his hoodie with his logo splashed across the front and your cheeks flushed from the height of the moment.

Pierre takes a few steps back and gets a running start to leap into the pool, tucking his knees to his chest and cannonballing in. The water closes over his head and everything is dull for a split second before he pushes off the bottom and surfaces, cheers assaulting his senses in the best way.

Laughing, he shakes out his hair and poses for a few of the cameras pointed at him. In that moment he doesn't care what Sylvie or Christian or anyone for that matter thinks, all he wants is to share this euphoria with you, for you to be enthralled by it as he is.

The waterlogged suit makes it hard to swim but he manages, crossing to you and pushing off the concrete lip of the pool to capture your lips. Your hands immediately fly to cup his jaw as hoots and hollers surround the two of you as he irrevocably tells the world that you're his.

Alpha crew members take the kiss as their cue to jump in, splashing you with water as you laugh. Pierre doesn't give you a chance to protest, rising up and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in with him.

You squeal in his arms, shoving against his chest as you both laugh. "Pierre!" His name on your tongue does nothing to dampen the feel of your waterlogged body against his, nowhere near as chastising as he knew you'd tried to sound. He loves you more than ever at that moment, wants to live here on this Sunday forever, replaying the past twelve hours for the rest of his life.

Celebrations continue around him, but he has eyes only for you. He studies the way your nose scrunches up when Alana splashes you and how droplets of water catch on your eyelashes.

Reaching out, he tucks a wet lock of hair behind your ear, garnering your attention. You ruffle Pierre's hair and he knows that you're just as caught up as he is.

Placing a hand on the back of your neck, he draws you in for another long, drawn out kiss. “You’re my trophy.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler​

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EIGHTEEN | Charlie Gillespie

PAIRING(s): Charlie Gillespie x sister’s best friend!fem reader

WARNING(s): mentions of abuse, trauma, fluff

WORDS: 3.9k

SUMMARY: “So kiss me where I lay down

My hands pressed to your cheeks

A long way from the playground

I have loved you since we were 18

Long before we both thought the same thing

To be loved and to be in love

All I can do is say that these arms

Are made for holding you.”

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OR READ HERE BELOW

    Charlie smiles, watching the sunlight dance on Y/N’s face, almost like little splashes of golden paint. She hums to whatever song is playing through her earphones, a faint smile teasing the corners of her lips. Her eyes are closed, and Charlie marvels at how peaceful and serene she looks. Her h/c hair surrounds her head like a halo, and he is tempted to reach forward and press a kiss to her temple.

  He doesn’t do that, of course. Instead, he gets up from his couch and joins Y/N on the floor, lying beside her. Her eyelashes flutter at his movement and quaint, kind e/c eyes hold his stare, eyebrows raised in question.

  “I thought you said that you were too mighty for the floor.” She teases, biting her lower lip to hide a smile. Charlie almost melts at that.

  “I never said that. Is everything okay up there?” He points his index finger at her head.

  The young woman of nineteen laughs mockingly. “Why, afraid you’re rubbing off your crazy on me?”

  Charlie rolls his eyes, and shifts closer to her, their arms touching slightly – and even that slight touch makes him feels butterflies in his stomach. It’s not uncommon, of course. Ever since he realized that he is indeed in love with her, anything that she does gives him butterflies. He doesn’t mind, of course – but he hates the fact that he is unable to tell her what effect she has on him. So, he resorts to ignoring or suppressing everything he feels for his little sister’s best friend instead.

  She pulls out an ear pod from her left ear and shoves it into Charlie’s ear. Eastside. She’s had this song on repeat, ever since she came to visit him in Vancouver, where he’s filming for the first season of Julie and The Phantoms.

  “I love this song. Reminds me of my first boyfriend. Remember him?” She says, softly.

  “Aaron. How could I forget? You begged me to cover for you at home so you could hang out with him.” He says, smiling softly at the memory. They were so young, Y/N just fourteen, and him sixteen. He remembers Y/N sitting beside him on the couch while he was watching a movie, all flushed and bothered, eyes continuously flitting to Charlie. He remembers saying, “I know you’re dying to tell me something.”

  She had nodded, looking around the Gillespies’ living room where they were currently seated in, apprehensively. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

  He had jutted out his pinky finger and wrapped it around hers. “Never.”

  “I think I really, really, super-duper like Aaron.”

  “Aaron as in your next-door neighbor?”

  “Yep.”

  Charlie had smirked. “He’s such a dork. I can’t believe that you like him.”

  “Shut up, Char. He’s the sweetest.”

  He chuckled. “His hobby is taking pictures of trees… if that doesn’t scream ‘dork’, then I don’t know what does.”

  She had glared at him while Megan had entered the room, plopping down on the couch beside Charlie. “What’s up?”

  “I’m telling him about Aaron, and he thinks that he’s a dork.”

  Megan shrugged. “What’s wrong with that? He’s really cute. Also, he was asking about you today.”

  “Really?” Y/N’s eyes brightened. Charlie laughed, shaking his head. “You girls are weird. But I approve. He’s a nice kid.”

  “I wasn’t looking for your approval?”

  “Yes, you were.”

  The girls had rolled their eyes at him and he had wrapped his arms around the two.

  Y/N’s voice brings him back to the present. “Simple times.”

  Charlie faces her. “Everyone after him were horrible.”

  She narrows her eyes at the boy beside her. “No, you were just too overprotective.”

  “Nope. They were all horrible.”

  They weren’t. Charlie just hated anyone who showed an interest in Y/N. At first, he thought that it was probably because he had literally watched her grow up. But a couple of months later, when he watched her kiss Levitt from the swim team, he had felt a smoldering rage rise in his stomach, along with his heart clenching. That day, he had realized that maybe there was more to it than watching her grow up. A couple more months later, on his eighteenth birthday, when she had kissed him on his cheek and handed him a present wrapped in shiny, blue paper, he had felt butterflies in his stomach. He also could feel the ghost of her delicate lips against his skin for days after, like the remnants of a fire brushing against his cheek.

  When he unwrapped the present, he found a vintage, hardbound copy of his favorite book, Les Misérables, along with a note, saying: ‘I might’ve read your journal. Only the part about how much you loved hardcovers and the part about how much you hated the fact that no bookstores nearby sold it. Well, I also might’ve read the part about how frustrated you are with microwave timers. I feel you, dude. But, yeah, remember when I said that I was going to visit my sister in Montoc? I lied, LOL. I went to a vintage bookstore in Fredericton. I’m sorry for lying, but ‘twas for a good reason, huh? Hope you like this. Also, you’re my second favorite person, after Meg. Happy 18th, Charles. Love, Y/N.’

  That moment he had realized that he was completely, utterly, truly, madly, deeply in love with his little sister’s best friend.

  It’s been about three years since that, and he still hasn’t told her how he feels.

  Now, Y/N looks at him, and rolls her eyes. “Sheesh.”

  She props herself on her elbow. “When are we going out today?”

  “Jeremy said that he made a reservation at 6. So, we’ll leave half an hour earlier.”

  “Okay. Is Owen going with us?”

  “Yeah. I don’t trust him to drive in Canada.”

  She grins. “He’s cool.”

  “Maybe sometimes.”

  “Savannah and Madi are the coolest, though.”

  “Definitely, yeah.”

  “You never told me that you had a cute roomie, though.”

  “Yeah – wait what?”

  Y/N flashes him a teasing smile and pushes herself upward with the palm of her hands. She brushes off her yoga pants and extends an arm to Charlie who is currently panicking inside.

  “Do you like Owen?”

  “What if I do?”

  Charlie must have looked as horrified as he had felt because she laughs and says, “I’m just messing with you.”

  “Thank god.”

***

  “Finally!” Y/N yells, kicking off her black, leather heels, which land near Charlie’s feet. He laughs, kicking them to the side.

  “You’re so dramatic.”

  “I dare you to wear heels like that for a day. See how you feel.”

  Owen pipes from behind them, closing the door to their apartment. “Oh, I did. My friend Dani made me wear them for a video. It was the most painful day of my life.”

  “See!” Y/N high fives his roommate as Charlie scrunches up his face. “How’d she find heels in your size, dude?”

  He laughs, and extends an arm toward the other two, who hand him their coats, muttering ‘thank you’ individually. He walks inside, yelling, “I’m fucking tired. Going to sleep.”

  “Don’t forget to check the stove!” Charlie yells back, hearing his roommate affirm his request.

  It’s just the two of them standing in the foyer now, and Charlie can’t stop staring at her. She’s wearing this beautiful red dress that compliments her skin perfectly, clinging to her body in all the right places – he had himself gifted her this dress on her nineteenth birthday. (Not really. His mother had picked the dress.)

  She hasn’t noticed him staring, though.

  “Ugh, I can’t wait to get out of this dress.” She walks inside.

  Charlie pauses and purses his lips, trying to stop himself from picturing him doing it. He breathes out raggedly and follows her inside – trying (and failing) to shove that mental picture away.

  Reaching the living room, he falls back onto the couch, which has been his bed for the past few days that Y/N has been here. She had protested, of course. But she already has so much trouble sleeping – she’s had it ever since she was a child.

  Y/N hadn’t had the best childhood. Charlie faintly remembers his mom pulling him and his sister into the kitchen one day when Y/N left their house after spending the whole day there.

  “Mom? What happened to Y/N?” Megan had asked, childlike innocence dripping off her tone.

  Charlie had nodded, saying, “How’d she fall down the stairs? That bruise looked nasty.”

  Their mother had sighed, and Charlie still remembers the pain in her eyes. “Honey. I want you to listen carefully, okay? And not tell anyone. You two think you can do that?”

  They nodded enthusiastically.

  “There are good people in this world – like Y/N. But there are also bad people, people who hurt the good people. And sometimes, sometimes, your parents can also be bad people.”

  “That’s not true!” Megan had protested, their mother smiling.

  “Maybe not for you. I hope so. But Y/N’s parents – they aren’t the best people, okay? They…uh… I’m not going to excuse their actions. They, uh, hurt Y/N.”

  “So, they pushed her down the stairs?” Charlie asked, his eyes widened. He could not understand how the people that loved you the most could do that to you, especially to someone like Y/N. He’s known her his entire life, ever since the Y/L/Ns moved next door when he was still in diapers.

  “I don’t know. Something happened. She was too shaken up to talk about it.”

  “But – but – she’s the best person ever! Why would her mom and dad do that to her?” Megan had protested, eyes welling with tears at the thought of her best friend getting hurt.

  “I don’t know, honey. I wish I did, I really do.” Their mother paused for a long moment. “I want you two to always be nice to her, alright? No matter what happens. Because, right now, she feels alone. I can see it in her eyes – she’s scared, confused, lonely. I know you two love her so much, and I want you guys to make sure that she knows it, okay? Make sure that she never feels lonely, all right? Make sure that she’s always safe and comfortable, as long as she’s with us, you.”

  They had nodded, their hearts welling up with love for their friend.

  After their mother hugged the two of them, Charlie’s twelve-year-old sister had run off to the other room, to call her best friend and tell her just how much she loves her.

  Charlie had lingered in the kitchen, too sad over what he’d just been told.

  “Maman?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Can’t we just keep her for ourselves?”

  “If we could, we would. I would like nothing more. But that’s absolutely not legal, mon chéri.”

  “Oh. That’s unfair.”

  His mother had flashed him a sad smile. He had taken both of his hands in his, and said sincerely, “I promise you, maman. I’m always gonna protect her. No matter what.”

  His mother had pressed a kiss into his tousled hair and whispered, “I expect nothing less.”

  It’s been more than seven years since, but Charlie still does everything in his power to make sure that she is always safe and happy.

  “Hey, Char?” Her voice brings him back from his childhood.

  “Yeah?”

  “That couch doesn’t look comfortable.” She shrugged one shoulder.

  “It is! I promise you.” He lied. It definitely wasn’t comfortable. The blinding pain in his neck is proof of that.

  “Don’t lie to me. Come on, sleep in your bed.”

  He shook his head.

  “You’re not gonna sleep on the couch, Y/N. Seriously. You’re right, it’s too uncomfortable.”

  “I wasn’t gonna. We’ll sleep together. That came out wrong. I mean, we can both sleep in the same bed, we’re both adults.”

  Charlie wanted to protest, but the hopeless romantic in him drowned all objections.

  “We’ll put pillows between us, okay? And it’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before. Remember my seventeenth? We were so drunk that we thought that the bed was a magnet, and we were screws.” She continued, looking away.

  Charlie smiled up at her, remembering the feeling he had the next morning when he had woken up to find Y/N curled up into him, her head tucked into the crook of his neck. “All right. If it’s okay with you.”

  She nods, walking into his bedroom, with Charlie following close behind. Both them wordlessly change and freshen up in the bathroom, and Charlie falls face first in his bed.

  “Oh. My. God.”

  Y/N laughs, sitting at the corner of his bed. “Knew it.”

  Charlie grins at her, feeling absolutely euphoric, especially with the buzz from all the drinks he’s had tonight still lingering in his head like a tattoo kiss. She slides under the covers, burrowing her face into the soft pillows. “I can’t function anymore. Bye.”

  He laughs softly, squeezing her shoulder, to which she softly smiles. He slides under the cover, resting on his side to face her, or rather a mess of h/c hair and soft, rhythmic breaths. He closes his eyes, switching off the light, but he knows that he will not be getting much sleep tonight, especially with the fuzzy citrus scent of her perfume everywhere and the heat from her body consuming him.

***

  It’s 1:20 AM and Charlie can’t sleep. Turns out that being in the same bed with the girl he’s been in love with since he was eighteen is a very, very bad idea. He’s put as much space between them as possible, yet he still feels vigilant and hot. His mind is betraying him: all he can think about is how beautiful she looks when the moonlight streaming through his window is casting shadows on her face, or how she’s sometimes saying things (really, really weird things, though – Charlie doesn’t understand anything), how much she looks like a little cat while she’s snuggled into the covers, or how she flails her arms while she’s asleep.

  He considers crashing in Owen’s room for the night. But as soon as Y/N starts moving around, still sleeping, he holds that thought and watches her instead.

  He can see her getting agitated, as she tosses and turns. She continues murmuring something, but it’s still all jumbled, and it hits Charlie.

  He props himself on his elbow and leans close to her face. “Y/N. Hey. Come back to me. Y/N. Honey. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

  She gasps, as consciousness floods in her system. She looks confused for a second, and Charlie sits up, right beside her. “Listen to me. You’re safe. I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything is okay.”

  She exhales, eyes closing for a second.

  “Are you okay?” Charlie asks when her breathing has turned cadenced.

  Her eyes widen and lips part. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You don’t ever need to apologize for that. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I just – ever since I left home, I’ve been getting these nightmares.” She says, softly. Charlie lays next to her, turning to face her, while she mirrors his actions.

  “What do you see?” He asks.

  “Mostly my childhood. You know, my dad pushing me down the stairs. Or my mother telling me that I’m a horrible person and no one will ever love me, and she should have aborted me. Or my dad breaking the mirror the one time I got a B in math. Or my parents fighting. Or – you know, just a montage of my parents’ greatest hits.”

  She breathes out shakily.

  “Getting away didn’t stop the nightmares, huh?” He asks, resting a hand on her warm cheek.

  She scoots closer. “No. They still text me sometimes, mostly to remind me that I’m a terrible person and that I’m gonna go to hell for walking out on them and not going to Harvard.”

  “Y/N, don’t you dare –”

  “No. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Walking out was the best decision that I’ve ever made.”

  He smiles softly at her.

  “You and Megan… god, you two saved my life. I would never have had the courage to get this far if it wasn’t for you guys.”

  “No, honey. It was all you. You’re the strongest person we know.”

  “Shush. Let me compliment you in peace. You guys are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know.”

  She smiles, reaching forward to tangle run her hands through Charlie’s hair. They were dangerously close now: Charlie could see the curve of her nose, the lingering red lipstick color on her lips and count the number of eyelashes she has.

  “You’re the best thing that’s happened to us, too.”

  Charlie can feel something in the space between them, something pulling them close. It is cold outside, but here, in the cocoon they’ve created, he feels warm and at home.

  “Like, thank you so much for pushing me to get into law school. Now, I’m learning how to help millions of little girls who are going through what I went through, and it makes everything worth it. I feel like I don’t say this enough, but Charlie. Thank you for everything.”

  He smiles, trying to retort something funny but her proximity has jumbled his mind.

  “I know you’re really busy with your life, but thanks for still thinking of me sometimes.”

  That breaks Charlie out of his daze. “What?”

  “You know. You’re in a Netflix show, working with Kenny freaking Ortega and all these incredible people – and I’m enormously proud of you, by the way – and… well, you’ll soon not have that much time for your little sister’s best friend, you know?”

  “You’re not just my little sister’s best friend, Y/N.”

  “Yeah, I’m your friend, alright. But soon you’ll be meeting celebrities and models and actors and then you wouldn’t have time for me anymore.”

  Charlie furrows his brows. “Where is this coming from, Y/N?”

  “I just had a lot of time to think today.” She turns on her back, facing the ceiling.

  He hates the fact that she is so unpredictable: he never knows what’s going on in her head or what she is feeling. That’s one of the reasons that he’s kept his feelings for her a secret for almost three years.

  “I saw you with that model today. At the bar. Uh. So, I thought that you’re probably gonna meet a lot of them in LA. Models and Hollywood girls and all that. So, you’ll probably not have any time for me anymore.”

  Charlie shakes his head, recalling the model he was talking to earlier today. Or rather, yesterday. Carol. She was really nice, sweet, and beautiful – and definitely interested in Charlie. But his focus had been on Y/N, who was having a dance off with Owen and Savannah, all evening – or rather, all the time. He had tried to focus on the Carol, he really did – but after an hour, she herself realized that he wasn’t into her and whispered a ‘good luck with her’ to him before leaving to go back to her friends.

  “Y/N, that’s not true –”

  “It’s okay, Charlie. It’s good. Your life shouldn’t be stuck in the same place. It should be getting better, and you should be meeting new people, you know? You’ve been alone for a weirdly long time and it’s freaking your mom out. So, I know you’re gonna fall in love with someone and then you’ll be too busy –”

  “God, Y/N, how are you so fucking oblivious?” Charlie snaps, annoyance coursing through his veins.

  Her eyes widen at his harsh tone of voice, and it shocks Charlie, too. He’s never, ever raised his voice at her.

  “What?”

  Maybe it’s having her so incredibly close that causes him to finally snap. “Y/N, I have been in love with you ever since I was eighteen. You’re the only person that I want, and you’re the reason that I’ve been alone for a weirdly long time.”

  He immediately regrets saying that. Y/N is sitting up, and she is looking around everywhere, trying to avert Charlie’s eyes. He hides his face behind his hands, sinking deeper into the covers and trying to create a hole and fall down to the center of the earth.

  “I think you’ve had too much to drink today.”

  He groans into his hands, glad that he’s under the covers and the girl can’t see his absolutely scarlet face. “Oh, for god’s sake. Dude. I wrote you an entire ballad when I was nineteen because I realized that this is exactly what’s gonna happen – that I’m always gonna be in love with you, and you’re always gonna think of me as your best friend’s older brother.”

  He feels the covers shift above his head, and is greeted with Y/N’s face, a vulnerable look in her eyes. “Do you really mean it?”

  “Of course, I do. You’re my family – do you really think that I’m gonna joke about something like this and ruin our friendship? The only reason I’m even telling you this is because I’m incredibly frustrated that you’re so oblivious and you’re so fucking pretty. And so close. See, this is exactly why I wanted to sleep on the couch. Because I knew that I would lose it.”

  There’s a sudden flurry of movement and her lips are on his’, and they’re kissing, kissing, kissing. Charlie is too shocked to do anything at first but as soon as the warmth courses through his system and the butterflies go wild in his gut, he pulls her closer, rising up. She sits in his lap, straddling him, their hands getting lost in each other’s hairs – both of them trying to be closer, closer, closer to make up for all the lost years and to keep feeling the contentment that they feel from just being close to each other. She tastes like Charlie’s mint toothpaste and his dreams – like everything he’s ever wanted.

  As they separate for air, Y/N rests her forehead on his. “I thought you knew.”

  “What?” He’s surprised to find his voice hoarse.

  “That I’m in love with you.”

  He can’t stop the grin on his face from escaping. “What?”

  “I thought Meg told you. Or your mum. Or anyone really. Everyone’s called me out on it. I’ve always had a crush on you but dating all those guys in high school made me realize that I was kind of, you know, in love with you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Same reason as you. You’re my family, Charlie. I didn’t wanna lose what we have just because of… you know.”

  Y/N slides off his lap and lies on the bed, next to him and he mirrors her actions, and she rests her head on his chest, the frantic beating in his chest her background music. He drapes an arm around her shoulders, desperate to have her close.

  “We’re both cowards, eh?”

  She giggles.

  “Wait. Meg knew?”

  “Of course. She’s my best friend.”

  “You know, one day I got drunk and told her that ‘I’m 100% attracted to your best friend sexually and emotionally and everythingally.’ I kept wondering why she was laughing.”

  “I hate her.” She buries her face in Charlie’s chest, giggling.

  Charlie laughs and pulls her in for another kiss, desperate to hold her again, to feel the high he only feels around her. She smiles against his lips, before a thought occurs to him. “Wait. You were jealous of the bar girl, weren’t you?”

  “Shut up, you dork.”

  They’re only half aware of the snowstorm raging outside from the warm cocoon they’ve created in each other’s arms. Maybe miracles really do exist.

***

drop a message in my ask or in my messages if u wanna be on the jatp taglist!! requests are also open <3

[justaredheadf1fan]

The Emilia Romagna 2022 GP killing me softly

Masterlist

Have I been around 5-6 hours shamelessly procrastinating instead of coming here and unburdening myself of all the shit that was going through my mind after that race? Indeed, I have. And now I'm basically writing this late because yes, I'm a fucking mess 🤦🏻‍♀️

Of all the shitshows I was considering possible for this race, worst case scenario was the chosen option, I see. In the words of Günther Steiner, paraphrasing... probably: fucking hell. No way in hell did I see this shit coming, honestly. I hope this is the last time this crap is pulled during this season, otherwise I might have a stroke before the season ends. Marina and I were talking during the race and we came to the conclusion that I've become her during season 2021. Which is true. I worried, I almost cried, I shouted at my laptop, I cursed my way through the whole race, I hated on plenty of the drivers, and so on. And for what.

Anyway, I'm not sure I'll get passed this, it was terrible. No upsides, no fun stuff whatsoever. 1-2 from RBR + Lando 3rd 🤬, Daniel hitting Carlos in the 1st lap and making Carlos retire (not that I care much about Carlos, but good thing my boy went after the race to apologize to him like the teddy bear he is), Leclerc clowning (I'm sorry, darling, but you know it's true) at the very end of the race, Mick unfairly falling back to almost dead last, Lewis 13th (thanks to Ocon's penalty since he was actually 14th)... I can't even begin to describe the clownery on this one.

I might get burned for saying this again, but I'm truly angry at Mercedes. Like, seriously pissed off. From my perspective, as always, I see that yeah Toto apologized to Lewis for the shitty car, but Jesus Christ Torger Wolff, THEN DO SOMETHING USEFUL ABOUT IT SO THAT YOU DON'T HAVE TO, MAYBE? Like, they have our guy there trying stuff nobody knows what for anymore, having more weight put onto his tractor of a car and on the other side you have George (nothing against him) calmly swinging by ending up P4 with the "same" tractor. Excuse me, what!? I'll say it once (again) and I'll say it twice and I'll say it indefinitely until proven wrong. This is the year Mercedes HAS TO give Lewis everything to win this shitty championship, it's not the year to make him lose it, with no one else to blame this time but themselves. Otherwise, all the promises made and all the pain have absolutely no meaning. And I'm not denying that engineers, mechanics and everyone in the team have worked their asses off, because they have, as they always do, but the result doesn't show it at all.

And now we have Karen Horner saying that Lewis is after all an "eight-time world champion". When you say something without thinking you, deep down you mean it and, in the words of George Russell himself, that's a FACT! Okay, I need to stop.

Then, like it hadn't been hard enough already, I came to Tumblr to seek some solace after this crappy race, and what do I find? The saddest, most heartbreaking image from this day, Charles totally devastated after his failed attempt and resulting crash against the wall (ever so lightly that he could go on at least). I was sending an audio message to Marina while he crashed and I haven't asked her, but I was shocked at the very least, so the audio message must have been funny to hear 🥲 My poor little demon. It was a great effort, but ultimately wasn't bound to happen today I guess.

Last thing I wanna comment on, even though I haven't seen it myself and I had to ask what it was about (remember, I've missed almost 8 years of Formula 1, so I had no clue this happened) before saying anything about it, but apparently some tifosi fans have showed a very racist banner that happened to go viral a few years ago, as usual being racist to Lewis. What a shocker, huh? Worst thing is that most (if not all) media have showed it without remarking how disrespectful and wrong that was. No, no, they just showed if for a good 20-30 seconds and said nothing about it. Good job, Europe. Very, very nice. As if the act itself wasn't bad enough, you all just gave them screentime. For fuck's sake. It's 2022 and this just never seems to stop. Can we be any more stupid as a whole? I wish I could say no, but I know it wouldn't be true. We seriously NEED to do better. We've learnt nothing, it's so fucking sad.

Next race: Miami. New track in the US, which I wasn't looking forward to (even though I'm one US fan, but for more tourist and simple reasons). I mean, didn't we have enough with COTA? Where's Germany? Which has 2 fantastic and crazy tracks where we could enjoy very interesting scenarios, but noooooo. Jesus. Let's hope at least it's a better one, I'm not asking for it to even be a good one at this point.

Until then, peace out darlings!

[pinkoptics]

AU-gust 2021 Prompts

4. Dancing

(Soooo it’s almost October… but that’s okay, right?)

Who wants some Dadneto feels? Who wants pining Erik?

If you do you’ve come to the right place!

Charles is nanny to Wanda and Peter, who’ve lost their mother, Magda. Erik is living a half life as an overworked single father, feeling the loss of his wife. Charles brings them back to life. This is the moment Erik realizes he’s desperately in love with Charles.

This exists in the Nanny Fic verse, but stands alone as a sort of prequel. You don’t have to have read Nanny Fic for this to work.

~2300 words

*

Erik knew the exact moment his heart had gone into free fall. One second in time when everything had crystallized, when notions and feelings that had been vague or easily ignored all shifted into place and could no longer be so easily denied.

Everything had been hard for so long, work especially, or completely, as work was virtually all he did. His entire existence boiled down to a desk, in an open space office, downtown. He got to work early, always early, trying to eek out the extra time needed to get caught up, even though he never quite succeeded in doing so. The day was spent in a haze of stress and tension, trying to meet unmeetable deadlines, and failing. He, and the rest of the team, would get scolded like school-children, belittled, until all the metal in the office vibrated imperceptibly. Imperceptibly because he needed this job— the stable pay, the incredible benefits, the mutant friendly culture. In the end, they all stayed late, too often, too late, to make up for the aforementioned deadlines. Overtime? Never. It was their fault, their incompetence, after all.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

It was no way for anyone to live, because it wasn’t a life. It was an existence, maybe, barely, but not a life.

Wander and Peter deserved so much more.

Every day he missed his kids. It was an ache like a stone in his shoe, but lodged instead in his heart, and he could see no way to remove it. Quitting, finding something else, it wasn’t an option, not in this economy. So the ache was always there. Always always always. When he finally did get home, he was tired. So fucking tired. He tried. He really did. He rallied as best he could for them but, at best, they got half of him because he was living a half life. Worn down, worn out, nothing left.

They had already lost one parent.

Magda.

Forever.

They barely had half of the other.

At least they had Charles.

Thank god for Charles.

His gratitude for the man and everything he did for him, for the twins, was staggering.

He shouldn’t have been able to afford a full day nanny/tutor after the education system had shut their doors on two young, volatile, mutants who couldn’t control their powers. Charles had swept in and hadn’t balked, like every applicant before him, at what Erik could pay. It was such a non-issue, Erik hadn’t looked a gift horse in the mouth, and had hired Charles on the spot.

Every day since, he had left them in Charles’ capable hands and, every day since, he had come home to bright smiles and happiness, to little people bursting with the need to tell him what adventures they’d gone on that day. There was joy, laughter and stability in the Lehnsherr household again. How could he be anything other than staggeringly grateful?

That’s all it was, gratitude, or so he told himself, until he couldn’t any longer.

When he ran his powers over his watch that lightning-strike evening, he was getting home around what should have been the tail end of dinner time. Charles stayed when needed, Charles cooked, even though contractually he was obligated to do neither. Erik paid him overtime, of course, but each day the clock ticked past 5:00 he half-panicked that when he finally made it through the door, Charles would throw his hands up and say ‘enough is enough,’ balking at yet another 12 hour day and justifiably disappearing from their lives forever.

Erik thought they would be seated at the table, finishing up— once again finding himself missing dinner, missing that precious time where he could talk to them, share a meal, share their day. If it had been a bit earlier, if he’d been on time, he usually found them finishing up their studies. Though he’d seen both many times already, he never failed to boggle at his kids sitting politely to dinner, or engrossed in whatever lesson Charles was offering that day. His kids — Peter especially — sitting. Engrossed. Learning. Sitting. They’d come farther, faster, under Charles’ care, than they had in an entire year at school. He was a miracle worker.

Today, however, he saw neither. They weren’t eating dinner, as expected, or even watching TV, as they did if he was particularly late. They were…

Dancing.

Well, Wanda and Charles were dancing, Peter was moving around the room erratically, random bursts of his incredible speed, that sort of resembled dancing, if you squinted. The control was itself incredible and something he never could have dreamed of before Charles. It was also incongruous because the music was— a waltz? Or, something like it. Erik wasn’t particularly versed in ballroom music.

Wanda and Charles, unlike Peter, were dancing in time to the music, in the proper way. Wanda was perched atop Charles’ feet in the manner small children sometimes did. She was smiling up at Charles with bright eyes, and Charles was smiling back with just as much warmth. The reddish glow that signified the use of her powers was escaping from her hands, though she didn’t seem to be using those powers in any way he could discern. She just seemed… happy.

“1, 2, 3, 4. Yes, just like that Wanda, you’re doing splendidly!”

Her smile got wider.

They turned about the cleared out living space and he came into Wanda’s line of sight. “Papa!” She leapt out of Charles’ grasp and surged toward him, tackling his long legs hard enough to knock him back a step. “I’m learning how to be a Princess, a real princess! Like they have where Charles is from!”

Peter stopped just short in front of him, after another burst of extreme speed, startling him back another step. Erik wasn’t sure he would ever get used to it. “I’m the court jester!” he announced, proudly.

Erik laughed, “Of course you are.” The warmth of their happiness began to chase away the weariness, the cold ache ever present in his chest, and replaced it with something else.

“We had a tea party!” Wanda went on and gestured to the kitchen table, where the remains of little tea sandwiches, cakes and biscuits were strewn about, along with a teapot Erik didn’t recall owning. “It was so fancy!”

Peter speeded to the table, knocking into it, and nearly upended the contents. He picked up a tea cup. “We held it like this! It was so silly.” He held out his pinky finger in that cliched way.

“Watch me dance!” Wanda all but plowed back into Charles, who winced as she stepped back onto his feet with just a bit too much force. He bore it in stride and picked back up where they had left off. “Do you see, Papa? Do you see? I’m dancing just like a princess.”

Erik reached out and stroked her hair as they passed. “Du bist eine Prinzessin, Bärchen.”

Peter began “dancing” erratically again. “I didn’t want to be a prince.” He crinkled his nose in distaste between bursts of speed. “Jesters are way cooler than stinky princes.”

Wanda did not respond but held her head higher, more haughtily.

Erik felt suddenly, wildly, close to tears.

As they made another pass, Wanda gasped and released Charles, lunging at Erik again. “Papa! You and Charles can be the King and Qu—” Her face screwed up in momentary confusion. “—King. We can have two Kings, right?”

“Of course. Whatever you want.”

With that settled, she went on. “Then, the kings should dance too!”

Erik’s eyes immediately flew up to Charles’, who looked just as taken aback by the sudden suggestion as he.

“Oh Bärchen, I don’t think—”

“Papa, the kings have to dance too!” It was a statement of inarguable fact. The sky is blue, the sun shines every day, the kings must dance. Peter stopped to nod his agreement.

Erik sidestepped. “The king could dance with his princess.”

That earned him 5-year-old exasperation. “Why don’t you want to dance with Charles? That’s silly. He can teach you. C’mon Papa!” She physically nudged him in Charles’ direction. Catching Charles’ gaze, he shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “It appears Princess Wanda has spoken.”

Charles’ face was alight with amusement. “Yes, it does appear that way.” He straightened his shoulders and extended his hand. “May I have this dance, sire?”

That hand was warm, when Erik placed his own on it, and soft. When those same hands settled on Erik’s upper back and waist, the heat seeped through the thinness of his dress shirt. He hadn’t been this close to anyone, hadn’t been touched, not since… All at once he wanted both more and less, to fall forward and pull back.

Charles was no less beautiful this close up— blue eyes still sparkling with amusement, a quirk to his very red mouth projecting the same emotion, a loch of his unwieldy hair falling playfully across his forehead, a sprinkle of barely there freckles across his nose. There should have been flaws. With their nearness, Erik should have been able to pick them out, but he couldn’t find a single one.

“Papa!” Wanda jolted him back to the room. “You’re not dancing!”

So they weren’t. Feeling very caught out, warmth rose to his cheeks. Blushing? Was he blushing? Erik didn’t blush.

“Have you waltzed before?”

“No.”

“Like this.”

Charles was gentle. He lead with authority, but

somehow managed to be gentle at the same time. It seemed to sum up everything he had learned about the man, watching him nurture his children back to life. After a few awkward steps and bumping knees, Charles’ lead was easy to follow and Erik found himself gliding across the floor in no time at all.

“You have a natural grace,” Charles murmured, as they turned about the room.

“Hardly. You’re an excellent teacher.”

“No.” The word was said with surprising firmness. “You’re very fluid, you feel the music. Musicality like that cannot be taught. Not easily. Certainly not this quickly.”

Something burned in Erik’s chest at the words, at the sincerity behind them. The feeling took a moment to recognize, but it was pride. When was the last time he’d felt proud about anything he’d done? The warmth spread, trickling outward from his chest, from where Charles’ hands were still pressing against him. Could he feel it too, through the small, open space between their bodies? He felt like he could.

Around them the kids danced too— Peter in his manic way, Wanda with an invisible partner.

He wanted to drop his forehead to Charles’, wanted to disappear in his warmth, his kindness, his care. Experiencing this small taste of it, he suddenly, desperately, wanted more— wanted to be the object of the same support, encouragement and comfort his children received. A nanny no longer, but a father to his children, a partner to him. All at once, he could see it so clearly, what it would be like if Charles didn’t leave at the end of each day. If he stayed, if they were…

Oh god.

To not be alone in this.

He couldn’t think the word.

To be whole.

He shouldn’t think the word.

To be a… family.

In that moment, he wanted it so badly he could scarcely breathe. He was gripping Charles too tightly now. He knew he was. But, he couldn’t stop. It said everything he couldn’t and absolutely shouldn’t— please don’t go, please stay, please be here with us.

We love you.

I love you.

The clarity of it was striking. You’re Charles. I’m Erik. I love you. Please stay. Now. Always.

Striking, real, clear, but terrifying.

He let go. Too fast.

“Are you all right?” The concern on Charles’ face deepened the ache that had taken hold with such fierceness in his chest.

He wasn’t. He hadn’t been. Not for a long time. But, for an awful moment, he thought that he could be. With Charles, he could be. “Fine,” he ground out, unused to losing his composure so completely. “I’m fine just… tired. It’s late, isn’t it? I’m sure you want to be getting home.”

Was that…? No. He was projecting. Surely, he had not seen a fleeting burst of disappointment in Charles’ features. The man was nodding. The children were protesting.

“You know I’ll be back tomorrow.” Charles chided as he bundled them into a group hug which Erik had to restrain himself from joining.

“Can we play princesses—”

“And jesters!”

“—again tomorrow?”

“Of course, your highness.” Charles stood and gave them both a bow. Wanda giggled and curtsied in return. Peter bounced. “Until tomorrow then.” His gaze flicked from the children to Erik. “Have a good night, King Erik.”

Erik swallowed. It was painful. “And you, King Charles.”

When he was gone, Erik was half nibbling, half tidying the remains of the tea party, trying to ignore the prickling behind his eyes, trying to dispel every last feeling Charles had provoked, trying to banish every last thought and box up every last ridiculous hope. Wanda sat at the table watching him. She did so with eerie quietness for awhile. So lost in his own thoughts, he startled when she finally broke the silence.

“I like Charles, Papa. Do you like Charles?”

The way she looked at him, boring into his soul and past his defences in a way entirely too reminiscent of her mother, he knew the answer was in someway important, someway meaningful.

“I— yes, Bärchen, I like Charles.”

She nodded and having apparently received the desired response, she hopped off her chair and went to pester her twin.

Somehow he knew the word they had both meant wasn’t like, but love. A word neither of them dared say aloud. The people you loved, especially when you loved them most… they didn’t always stay. They could be taken and it hurt in a way you could never fully heal from. Maybe if you held back, maybe if you didn’t give it all, maybe they wouldn’t go.

Erik gave up on his tidying and slumped into one of the kitchen chairs.

He couldn’t be with Charles.

Could he?

*

If this has perked your interest in the original fic here is the link to Nanny Fic:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12898845/chapters/29467485

8 chapters. Unfinished. Not abandoned.

[cblgblog]

Sorry I’m advance but one of my other favorite accounts just reblogged a Tony scene and people are talking about Civil War and how it made them Stan Tony, and how when they watch that movie they hate team cap👀 Then someone was all about how he was sleep deprived and how much pressure he was under and couldn’t understand how people didn’t like Tony because. Someone literally said that when someone says they don’t like Tony in Civil War they say “did you watch the same movie as me.” I’m baffled. Oddly enough someone else said, “he just wants to help everyone.” Sorry for the rant but I think people forget about what the accords are and what it would mean for people. Side note, I hope you’re having a great day/night 😀

No sorry needed!

I feel you man, I do. Honestly, I’ve unfollowed people based on similar posts when I was in especially Done moods, so.

Look on the one hand, the movie would’ve been a narrative failure if everyone was in favor of one side or the other, right? The whole point of the damn thing—besides giving the Mouse overlords more money—was to spark discussion, debate. Which, yeah, we’ll call that the tame description for what actually happened. But just, the thing was meant to split the fanbase so in that regard…winning? Thanks, I guess?

Film is also very obviously subjective, different strokes for different folks, so yeah, ten people can watch a movie and none of them are gonna see the exact same film. Let’s try to remember that this is, in theory anyway, a good thing. I just read a professional film review yesterday where I had the same reaction. What film were you watching, dude? Incidentally his reviewing partner said the same thing.

So honestly, no, they weren’t watching the same film as you or I or anyone else, because everyone brings their own biases and experiences and knowledge and interests into a thing, and that’s always going to flavor how it’s viewed. Again, let’s try to remember that this is good. In theory. Heavy on the theory.

That out of the way? Let’s get into Tony specifically so his uber stans can find this and scream at me on anon as though I just shot RDJ with a nuke.

Oh yeah, he was stressed. Oh, he was sleep deprived. Yeah, I’ve heard that. And that it’s Pepper’s fault, if she hadn’t left the poor baby, if she was there to rein him in, he’d be fine dammit, leave the baby alone!

Here’s the thing. You know who gets a pass on their shit behavior when they’re upset or tired? Actual babies. Actual babies and toddlers, and children, up to a point. Because they actually cannot always help themselves. Their bodies and brains are different, they have not learned better.

When you’re a 50-year-old man who’s supposedly the world’s bestest superhero, who wants, wants to be in charge of protecting the whole world? You need a little more self-control than that. The sleep deprived excuse works if you snap at someone before you’ve had your coffee, not for this. Roseanne Barr didn’t get to blame Ambien for her racism, Tony doesn’t get to handwave CW away because oops, I was tired.

Really? You’re a superhero, dude. Most of your teammates are tired too, that’s part of the gig. If you crash and burn this badly without your afternoon nap, fucking hang up the armor and go back to your billionaire playboy lifestyle.

Speaking of that, sure, right. It’s Pepper’s fault because she left him. Put aside the argument on whether that was justified or not (cough, it was and she should’ve stayed away even though they are adorable together). It’s not Pepper’s job to keep Tony sane. It’s not any partner’s job to do that for anyone. If she wants out, she has a right to that, without Tony going off the rails and blaming it on her. Seriously, he says part of the reason he backed the Accords was to “split the difference” with Pepper.

Dude. You were an asshole and you lost your girl. You destroyed all your suits, turned an emotional and mental corner in IM 3…and then relapsed 4 minutes later I guess because Whedon. Either way, Tony admits himself that he does not want to stop. So instead of doing that, or finding another partner who can accept that, you back an unjust international law that pits you against your team, your supposed friends? Go to therapy, have a pint of ice cream, cry into your pillow, send her more of those strawberries you sent her in IM 2 that she’s allergic to. You don’t go trying to change international law in ways that could ultimately affect millions of people because your girl left you.

Honestly—and thank God they didn’t do this but—the only way the Pepper excuse works in excusing his behavior in any way is if she’d died. Or been severely injured like Happy in IM 3. Still wouldn’t be okay, but, like Quill messing up their chance to stop Thanos because Gamora died, it would’ve been more understandable. Understandable, not excusable, and the way the MCU treats their women as manpain fodder, we’re probably legit lucky we didn’t get this.

As for him wanting to help everyone. He does in fact want that, I think. The problem is that his need to feel like he’s doing that is stronger than his rational mind, or his want to actually help in a constructive way.

Tony is too smart. He’s dumb as hell in many instances, mostly involving people and relationships, but he’s also too smart, and he’s been told for too long that he’s smart, and he’s bought into it. Ultron. Suit of armor around the world, protects the world, no more alien threats. It’s a simple concept on paper that fails in execution. So there are people with dangerous powers. Okay, we’ll make a set of laws to keep them from being dangerous, problem solved. But again, it isn’t.

Tony is not used to problems he cannot solve. He’s a genius, right? He can fix anything. He should be able to fix anything. That’s how he feels. But not everything is zeros and ones and circuits, things that can be fixed mechanically like his armors can. The people he wants to protect are not built that way. But he needs to feel like he’s doing something, because he’s terrified of what happens to the world if he doesn’t. So he creates these simple solutions to complex problems. The suit of armor, the Accords. They sound good in theory, but the problems they’re trying to solve are bigger than they are. And Tony, way back in IM 1, he sat back for years, clueless that his weapons were being used for bad things. He says it to Cap in CW. When he found out what his weapons were being used for, he went in and stopped it. Whether or not he should’ve known that already is a separate issue here. The point here is that when he found out, too late or not, he went in and did something about it.

Tony needs to do something about it. Again, go back to Cap in AoU, Tony’s nightmare sequence. Steve asks Tony why he didn’t save them. Tony’s ultimate nightmare is that he sits back and does nothing, and his inaction causes everyone to die. Which is where you get Ultron. Something he came up with because of what he saw in space in Avengers 1, then doubled down on in AoU. It’s where you get the Accords. Oops, he caused someone to die, he killed Charles Spencer. Must do something about that right now so it doesn’t happen again, and he won’t have to feel this guilt. He should be collaborating with others to come up with solutions (no Bruce in AoU doesn’t count because Bruce was dumb there), or at the very least, taking more time to think through the repercussions of the things he puts out there. But he doesn’t, because he’s got his savior complex that tells him that he alone can and must fix this, and because he’s too dumb to realize how not-smart he is in certain areas.

“We need to be put in check. Whatever form that takes, I’m game.”

Isn’t that what he says in CW, or something very close to it? Whatever form that takes. That’s the issue, right there, whatever form that takes. Realistically, yes, there should be laws regarding people with powers, the same way there are special laws pertaining to people who carry guns, or people who are licensed to fly planes. You have a thing/can do a thing that not everyone else does, so there are regulations pertaining to that thing. Laws change with the times, they always have. Some new technology comes up, eventually there will be laws that regulate it. As there should be, honestly. The issue with the Accords, Steve’s issue with the Accords, was not the basic idea. He says as much. He says that it could work, but there would have to be safeguards. Safeguards that are not in the Accords that Tony wants him to sign.

It's not a matter of oh, fuck the law, there should be no law governing these people, they’re above it. The problem is that the law as it’s presented here is unjust. There’s what, a month between Lagos and Ross coming by to tell them about the Accords? A month is not enough time to properly analyze such a big issue, Especially when you’re reacting out of fear, which is what happened with Lagos. People died because of an Enhanced person, an Avenger, in this case. Lawmakers don’t want that to happen again, they especially don’t want the political shit storm that comes with it. Damn, we look like we were asleep at the switch here, not having anything to throw at this problem earlier. Quick, let’s throw together this thing so no one can say we’re not addressing the problem.

Patriot Act of 2001, anyone? 9/11 happened, the public were rightfully terrified, the US said oh man, these are unprecedented circumstances, we’ve never had this before. Don’t worry though, we’re on this, we’re protecting you. The reality being that that bill simply gave the government too much power, most of it being used against people who were not actually threats, and it’s debatable, to say the very least, whether or not that law helped more than it hurt.

No law is perfect. No law ever will be. It’s not possible. We still have to strive for perfection though, have to aim there so that the laws we get are as close to fair as possible. Tony’s a big deal. If not for his “whatever form that takes” attitude, he might’ve been able to use his influence to pressure lawmakers into coming up with a fairer bill. Hey, I’m me, the public loves me, I will endorse this bill publicly and work on getting the rest of the team to sign, but you need to change this and this and this first, or no deal. Instead, he took the easy way out, the quickest, easiest way for him to feel like he’s atoned for his sins without actually doing anything. Whatever form that takes.

Tony’s not wrong because he backs the creation of a law that addresses these things. He’s wrong because he says himself that he does not care what that law does, specifically, so long as it exists. He’s wrong because he violates said law upteen times during the movie, while preaching to team Cap about what assholes they are for not backing it. He’s wrong because he cares more about feeling as though he’s tackled a problem than he does about taking the time to make sure that the thing he’s proposing is actually a good idea. He’s wrong because of what he does with Bucky, though that’s honestly a separate issue, for the purposes of this discussion.

Anyway, that was longer than I ever wanted it to be. Damn. Next time you see a comment about CW being the reason people stan Tony, just remember there are other people out there who stopped stanning Tony because of that movie. Everyone’s entitled to see a piece of media however they see it, and although the Tony stans are often the loudest, there are plenty of like-minded people out there who share your take on events. Block who you need to, unfollow who you need to, blacklist what you need to, and don’t let them get you down.

Hang in there, and have an awesome day :)

[il-predestinato]

This is what happens when I try to write a short sequel to a Lestappen fic that was intended to be a one-shot: 15,000 words later, it’s longer than the original story, and I’m still not done. 😅

Anyways, I blame the summer break content void, and I feel like sharing an excerpt (maybe to kick my ass into gear and finish the story). This is half a scene (and who knows how much of it will stay in the final version) from my thus far untitled and unfinished Lestappen retirement/future fic, set circa 2030:

-

Barely two weeks later, he receives an unexpected call from the Ferrari team boss. He has an offer for Max. He wants Max to use his opt-out clause with Red Bull.

Max is aloof and polite (all those years of press training had to be worth something). He tells the other man that he will consider the offer and get back to him.

Privately, he’s absolutely livid.

“How dare they do this!” He’s pacing furiously on their balcony. Both Jimmy and Sassy have skirted back inside the apartment, pointedly avoiding his foul mood.

Charles just watches him placidly. “I think it’s a good offer.” He kneels down to inspect their overgrown aloe plant, one of Max’s earliest purchases for him, which had grown so large that it had to be moved outside.

Max stares at him in disbelief. “That’s not the point. How can you be so calm about this?” In his mind, this is nothing short of betrayal. “After everything you’ve done for them, all the sacrifices you made, they couldn’t even wait a month. You haven’t even announced your retirement, and they’re already looking for your replacement.”

“They’re my home and my family, but they’re also a business,” defends Charles with a shrug. “The moment they learned the extent of my heart condition, they knew that this day was coming. It was a kindness for them to wait until the end of the season.”

“I don’t care,” retorts Max mulishly. “It’s disloyal, and I won’t do it. I’ll call him back now and tell him to stick it up his ass.”

Charles gives him a tired smile, like he’s battling between appreciation for Max’s fierce devotion to him and exasperation with Max’s stubbornness. 

“And you said you’re not good at romance,” he settles for teasing the Dutchman.

Crossing his arms, Max raises a single eyebrow. “Please, remember when I bought you that aloe plant hoping that you’d stab yourself on the spikes?”

That had happened after the infamous Austrian GP of 2019, so Max is probably telling the truth. Charles laughs at the memory. The way it brings out his dimples and causes his nose to scrunch never fails to generate flip flops in Max’s chest. He would normally lean over and land a kiss on that adorable nose, but he didn’t trust himself to touch Charles right now without losing control completely. He reminds himself of the doctor’s warnings and that the balcony is no place for passionate escapades (not that it stopped them two months ago in the middle of the night).

For a moment, he thought he saw a glint of disappointment in Charles’s eyes when he kept his distance. But then it was gone, and he must have imagined it.

Instead, Charles reaches for his arm; even that light touch is electric.

“It was my idea,” he tells Max.

His mind grinds to a halt. “What do you mean?”

“When they asked for suggestions for my replacement, I recommended you.”

-

My sincerest apologies for inflicting the weirdness of my mind on everyone following this tag. 😝Okay, now I’ll get back to writing more weirdness...

[batarangsoundsdumb]

yet another ask dump yeehaw!

do you ever think that jay's mother was one of those bitch who believes in horoscope and tarots and things like that and so he believes in these things too, or it is just me projecting?

sheila haywood took one look at jason's birthchart said 'nah this won't do' and left.

Wait, but what happens when the justice league does find out that Bruce and John fucked? Lmao it sounds like it would be hilarious, really, I don’t want a justice league that doesn’t make fun of Bruce for like his entire life.

barry runs out of the meeting immediately and comes back with an entire sti testing kit. diana fully seriously wants bruce to get tested while bruce is sitting there like 'come on guys, you're being ridiculous, i already checked twice'

john is standing in the corner clearly offended while bruce is just like 'don't even say anything, constantine, you fucked a shark'

tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.

on the one hand, good for him, on the other hand, bro, how do you still have a secret identity when your superhero name is just your last name,,,,

Your fic on ao3 was GOLD PLEASE CONTINUE I loved Dinah's cameo btw ( @purple-vixen

thanks so much! i already continued but this ask is like 10 years old because i'm a notorious procrastinator (also yes! i love dinah so much aahhhhhhhhhhhh)

I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.

bruce internally: holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit bruce externally: get out of my city, alien

AHHH ur multimedia fic is the only thing that brings me happiness anymore continue it forever pls

uhh thanks, but can't continue it forever because my attention span is that of a toddler on crack on a good day and i can't function without at least 10 things going on at the same time and music in the background

Oi, so I'm getting into dc and watching batman the animated series, and they use fruitcake a lot. Which I thought was very funny and wanted to share w you - Denilla

wait like fruitcake (food) or fruitcake (derogatory) ?

young justice 🤝 teen titans slut shaming batman

tim drake and dick grayson to their respective teams 'you guys stop it, that's my dad'

Happyhoganon: If an eighty year old Batman had fought crime in Gotham City for decades and the only threats to him and the city lately are a wheel chair bounded Penguin, your usual purse snatchers and a few con artists popping up every now and then, how well could the Dark Knight do in maintaining the peace in Gotham despite him being just somewhat fit to do that as an elderly man (which says A LOT given how old he is)

uhh he'll probably do what my grandpa does and that is ruthlessly prank them until they die of shame.

in the death in the family interactive movie there's an ending where Jason is tasked with raising Damian and he decides he's gonna raise Damian to take down the waynes and al ghuls which uh maybe isn't great BUT the idea of Jason raising Damian... PRICELESS. CHAOTIC. I just need more people to know about this :)

yes i saw that wow holy shit but jason would accidentally drop damian on his head one (1) hour in and jason just yeets him into the lazarus pit.

Headcanon: The Penguin has a really hard time fighting any of the Robins because of his avian obsession means there's always a small part of his mind that's like "Birb. Child. Protect" ( @subspacecadet )

as soon as dick becomes nightwing the penguin is like 'you know what, fuck this dude' and shoots at him.

Y'all talking about King Shark dating Constantine, let's not forget about John literally hooking up with Satan

listen there's a clear difference between monsterfucker and satanfucker in that king shark is literally a shark and satan still looks like a normal dude

Does everyone in Gotham think Batman is a teen dad?

everyone in gotham thinks batman has been around since gotham was founded, but they do think that bruce wayne is actually a teen father and dick grayson's biological dad.

why. why would you do that fancast when you know it will only hurt people

what? i loved my fancast it was really well done. i did it with good representation in mind and i really managed that with alfred pennyworth being ✨italian✨

Seeing james charles a jason gave me psychic damage how dare you i need to wash my eyes

well that's a you problem isn't it?

do you think dick grayson thirst tweets about nightwing just to annoy his family/cause problems on purpose in general?

he thinks nightwing is hot, next question.

holy jiminy cricket batman, its as cold as the good lords ass crack in here!!

i- what? this is why i don't fuck with english expressions it's way too goddamn weird

Brooooooo, your teen dad!Bruce au is soooo good. I've got brainrot.

Honestly if you ever write anymore, I'd read that shit twice. Sign me the fuck up. Good stuff, Good Stuff.

uh yeah i'm thinking about writing a fic, but i have exams coming up and i don't wanna fail because that would suck. but after i'll certainly be writing more tho

your teen dad AU is so great! bruce acting like a big brother for all of like a week before he's telling everyone about his son. what if in the AU dick meets the JL because they need to rescue him? maybe he's in trouble/kidnapped at a gala and bruce starts calling for JL. clark finds him and has to fly with dick to bring him home - that's how dick and clark meet and superman becomes dick's fave hero. he goes around the manor thinking he can fly with a red blanket draped around him like a cape.

actually- if you want a young dad! bruce fic with like that kinda stuff(just with damian) go check uhh- in for a penny by cdelphiki. it's really good and bruce is like 24/25-ish. (and dick's there!!!)

This account has solely convinced me that Tim is a trash goblin ( @hamilcat-and-magic-turtle )

because he is. that boy has slept in dumpsters on multiple occasions even if he is the son of a billionaire.

Okay but when you said victory dance I did think of the whole justice league defeating the big bad and then they all start flossing

well that's exactly what hal jordan does and that's why batman uses a gun now. no but the victory dance in my opinion is like the 'we're all in this together' dance from high school musical.

The horrors in Invincible s1 was nothing compared to the comics, I cant wait for s2

oh well okay, i mean i personally react to horror and violence by laughing awkwardly so i can't wait to be called a monster for accidentally laughing at a mass murder.

I'm currently watching Batman: The Brave and The Bold and- Bruce is just talking about Oliver like he's an old love (@nightwings-kid)

okay im going to watch that lmao that's totally and completely in character for him tho.

The invincible comic is like super gratuitous with its violence so much so I'm shocked the show was able to adapt it in a faithful way! Anyway had the show been live action it absolutely wouldn't have the same impact as it does as an animated show and I'm so glad so many people agree with me on that

also because a live action casting would've been like uhh amanda stenberg for amber, the dude- the guy from the supernatural but with a mustache for omni-man, and scarlet johanssen for debbie grayson

Debbie grayson is a milf, yes. You're welcome for the invincible propoganda, now you can questions your life. Bruce def seems like the perfect father next to Omni-man. Like they really took a rip off justice league and I was like well, now I'm attached even tho I was like hah I know who they're supposed to be. And then bam- death gore death gore gore gore sad Mark grayson just had to have daddy issues. Why does every character have daddy issues. I'm sick of the attacks

because daddy issues make a person arguably funnier, that's why i'm not even remotely funny (haha good dad flex). i liked that it was dark contextually, but not in the colouring, bc i hate when it's like 'uh yeah graphic murder and now a shot so dark you have to sit in a dark room and squint at the screen to faintly see the characters. (like dcau ugh)

About the Wayne insurance, for a moment I thought you would put the video with moans over the waves.

i mean- i could've done that, but rick rolling seemed more family friendly.

Its the first time in forever that im surpise rickrolled, i usually expect it. Congratulations (i really should know better this is tumblr)

i get rickrolled so often but i actually like the song so i dont really give a fuck

Actually, my information about Damian and John's kids is outdated because it was revealed that the old men telling the kids stories about the Supersons were actually Jon and Damian the whole time. I was blinded by my thirst for Grandpa!Bruce Wayne but I was wrong... I liked my version better, tbh (@artemisa97)

fair enough. but i'd honestly like to see damian and jon getting together, just because it's a really fun dynamic and their friendship was really cute when they were kids. (also idk maybe it would be nice to have one (1) main batfam/superfam character that's not cishet)

How am i JUST finding your blog skdskfkd you're so fucking funny and ur takes are hot

i thought u were calling me hot :( but youre not :( crime detected (but lmao thanks)

So I have depression and I swear that your memes are one of the few things that have made me laugh so thank you 💛🥺 (@katekanebadass)

aw you're welcome, and i hope you're doing okay!

The metropolis memes are so funny, I love them 💀😌

i think metropolis is also so fucking funny it deserves more attention imagine having your entire police force being upstaged by an alien from kansas and his kids

as an american i feel your complete lack of knowledge of us geography is just so sexy (platonic) ❤️

thanks so much (i also don't know any other geography, i'm not kidding, like you can tell me you're from hungary and it will just blank, there will be nothing that comes to mind)

In the DC universe they don't say "Can't have shit in Detroit" they say "Can't have shit in Gotham"

this just reminds me of that guy whose porch got stolen like the steps to his door, and i'm thinking of people living in gotham and waking up without a front door and going "can't have shit in gotham"

honestly all i know about chicago is the bean, so. what would gotham's famous sculpture be?

gigantic gargoyle statue in front of one of the police precincts because a villain thought it was a smart way to keep the police inside, but it's too heavy to move.

why tf do people go on about how batman "works alone" or how he's the "lone wolf" when he like 38290202 members in his family

bc people think it's cool that a grown man in his 30s has no friends or family instead of calling it what it is (sad)

Bruce is gotham's sugar daddy

why would say something so controversial yet so brave.

my favorite batfamily fanfictions are the ones where they use their shitty codenames, unironically, in any context

dick: gerard way are you in position, gerard way are you in position

tim: for the last fucking time, my codename is 'totally not count olaf' this week, abbafan 3000

dick: shut up my codename isn't 'abbafan 3000'

dick: it's 'abbafan number 1' and you know it

I have a feeling Tim drake is ur favourite batfamily member but okay u don't have favs if u say so ok

i mean he is, i won't deny it. but i love each and every one of the batfam just the same, i just have a weak spot for short dumbass nerds, because i'm a short dumbass nerd.

Omg i fuckin love boy meets world too fam shsjkfk

bro boy meets world was the shit!!! it was just fire and awesome and so fucking great like bro. it was so good im not even going to be accepting criticism

you know I find the whole "joker completes batman" thing a bit disgusting considering the horrendous stuff the batfamily went through because of the joker and let's not get started on the "joker has a point" thing like yeah he's this cool complex villain but he's absolutely batshit crazy

like yes! i get what you mean the joker just fucking sucks man he doesn't do shit for batman's character or the batfam he's literally just annoying as fuck. like the joker has a point' shit is so stupid. i will accept 'magneto was right' because he fucking was and i think he didn't do anything wrong, but joker? he's just like that. he's not even cool and complex he's just a weirdo with a bleach kink at this point.

ALSO YOUR RACISM POST- SO TRUE BESTIE

thanks bestie, i'm glad you agree.

in today's essay of why I think cass should become batman- I was thinking Tim would probably be the most efficient batman in many ways but I also think he wouldn't want to be batman tbh none of the batfamily members would want to be batman because they're trying to outgrow him but cass is the one who wants to represent the symbol that is batman

absofuckinglutely i will say it again and again that cass represents the batsymbol more than anyone in the batfam, in batgirl (2000) she literally didn't care about anything else than bruce's oath to not kill, she thought the batsymbol was more important than anything in gotham. she's just an excellent character because her motivation to not kill is not 'i'm scared i can't come back from it' or 'well my dad says no murder so i'll go along with it' but that she's killed somebody as a young child and she never wants to kill a human ever again and that's so fucking beautiful for a new batman like yes.

need more cass, duke and tim inclusion in gothamite memes

yes yes, a tall order of cass, duke and tim coming up in 1-14 business days

oldest to youngest batfam members cus I'm confused as shit

okay order of being taken in: dick, jason, tim, cass, damian, duke order of age: alfred, bruce, dick, cass, jason, tim, duke, damian (though cass and jason are around the same age general consensus is that cass is a little older)

I'm so confused Steph is a redhead?? like how was it that hard to get this right? the source material is literally right there and free

cw is jared, 19

do you receive anon hate? if so, how do you deal with it

uh no, i'm not remotely popular enough to get anon hate and i also don't say a lot of things that would attract anon hate, but i do send anon hate to @the-real-peter-parker because he forgot about the specialists from winx club

Wait how many languages do you speak??

uhh- 5 if you include latin, but that's a dead language and i'm really bad at it. but english, my native language, german, and french also, tho german and french not fluently.

You can mix aguaepanela with aguardiente 😈 and is tasty

okay but now i'm curious if the liquor deserves the 😈 emoji or if that's a you problem. but i googled it and it looks like something you'd take one sip of and then not remember the rest of your evening.