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nurse-sainz · 2 days

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Broken Promises - Part 2

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Anon request: I wanted to make a request for an angst by Charles Leclerc, where they have an argument because he has been very distant but he doesn't want to accept it and end up saying hurtful things without knowing how to fix things later.

I took this request and ran with it deciding it would be a good continuation of this fic

Warning: mentions of crash, ICU and hospital stays. Angst with a sweet ending.

The evening spent with Max had been amazing, if you were being honest you dreaded going back to your apartment to the loud noise and people and just wanted to spend it by the ocean with him. He managed to convince you…or maybe it was the birthday cake that was waiting. It was definitely the cake.

He led you back to your apartment and you managed to sneak back in, Arthur and Lorenzo had kept your guests entertained and told them you needed a moment. Turns out the break was exactly what you needed, and of course you were still mad at your brother but it didn’t matter tonight. You smiled as Max brought out your cake and you made a wish before blowing out your candles. The pair of you cut a slice to save to enjoy later when all of your guests had gone for the night.

The next morning you woke up to a text from Charlies and your bad mood started all over again.

Charlie: I hope you enjoyed the night, Arthur and Lorenzo said it was good. I’m so sorry once again.

You didn’t care for his apologies. You were done with him and his promises.

He must have seen that you’d opened his message but didn’t reply because the next thing you knew his caller ID was lighting up your screen.

“What?”

“Is that any way to speak to your brother, sœurette?”

The tone of his voice just irritated you in a way only one of your brothers could. How could he speak to you like that after how he treated you yesterday.

“What do you want, Grand frère?” You almost spat the pet name you use for him.

“I told you I was sorry, y/n. Did you have a good time?”

“No, Charlie. I didn’t. I wanted you there. You promised me. Arthur and Lorenzo were there and Max. The only reason I didn’t cancel was because he convinced me.”

Charles knew there was no point arguing with you further when you were like this and he’d been beating himself up ever since he’d sent that text; but duty called. He had to work and he couldn’t get out of it, especially with how last minute his team had called him in.

He sighed, “will I be seeing you at the race this weekend?”

“Yes. Unlike you, I keep my promises. I’ll be there, but not for you Charlie. I’m going for Max.”

“Y/n wait-”

You didn’t bother listening to what he had to say, “goodbye Charles.” You hung up, cringing at the use of his full name. You never called him Charles.

Max walked into the kitchen where you were sitting at the breakfast bar and kissed you as he passed. “Was that Charles?”

“Yeah, just asking if I was coming to the race this weekend.”

“You need to for-”

“If you say forgive him so help me Verstappen,” you warned slightly playfully but also not wanting or willing to forgive your brother just yet.

He held his hands up in surrender, “just, don’t give him too much of a hard time, he’s probably been beating himself up over it.”

You knew Max was right, but still he’d hurt you. Two days later as you made your way through the paddock holding onto Max’s hand you decided to forgo seeing Charles, he was probably too busy anyway. You both made your way to the Red Bull hospitality tent avoiding Ferrari and Charles at all costs.

Luck, however, wasn’t in your favor. Charles had heard about your arrival and seen it on his socials. He’d seen you in your Red Bull jacket and baseball cap, not a hint of Ferrari red on you. Usually you’d have a piece of merch from both of the drivers in your life, wanting to support the pair of them; but you knew this would piss him off. This was a final act of defiance to show how much you were still angry with him.

You knew you’d gone too far when you saw a red shirt moving through the crowd of blue. Charles was in your face before you had a chance to react, “Why are you doing this?” your brother asked. You’d never seen him look so angry and hurt; maybe now he’d understand how you felt the last three years. “I’m your brother and you’re not even supporting me, how is that going to look to the fans?”

“To the fans? Is that all you care about? Maybe now you know how it feels to have your own sibling not show up for you. Besides, I’m not here to only support you Charlie, Max is my boyfriend and I support him too. He is just as important to me.”

His face fell, “you know what? I’m done. Do whatever you want y/n but just don’t expect me to be okay with it.”

You couldn’t help the tears that welled up in your eyes as you watched him walk away.

The few people who were around for your argument slowly went back to their business leaving you alone. Charles nearly slammed into Max as he left the tent to prepare for the race.

“Charles?” He called but his friend ignored him. He turned back to see you nearly in tears and rushed to your side.

“What happened?” he asked as he put his arm around you to lead you to somewhere more private, where prying ears couldn’t listen in.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just get you ready for the race, yeah?” You wiped your tears and turned your attention to him.

You made your way to the monitors and placed the headset on your ears, standing with the rest of the Red Bull team as the formation lap began. Then it was lights out.

Max pulled away first, closely followed by Lando, Carlos and Charles. They battled for first place as they inched round the first corner. It always made you nervous seeing your brother so close to the other drivers but thankfully they made it through unscathed.

You could tell Charles was driving aggressively, the way he inched closer to the McLaren’s on the corners and pushed his car to the limit as he overtook them. You watched nervously, trying to focus on enjoying the race, Charles knew what he was doing.

Suddenly, a gasp went through the room and time seemed to go in slow motion as Charles' car clipped the back of Lando's, sending it into a horrific flip. Charles’ car somersaulted through the air before it finally crashed down and skidded to a halt, only stopped by the wall.

Your heart was in your throat as you waited for any signs of life. “What’s going on? Is he responding?” You asked as you all watched on in shock.

“We don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” You called back, you wanted nothing more than to rip the headset off and run to the Ferrari garage. You heard the red flag being called and the cars were called back to the garage, but your focus was on the screens as you watched the medical car rush to the scene.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but Max had made it back and was at your side. He walked you over to the Ferrari garage where you were met with red rimmed eyes as they tried to get any information from the track medics. Max could tell you were in shock. He kept tight hold of you, his touch a grounding presence as you waited for any news.

One of Charles’ engineers made his way over to you and Max as he noticed you standing there. “The medics are with him now, he’s alive but he’s unconscious. They’re working on getting him out.”

You finally let the tears you’d been holding fall. If it weren’t for Max holding you up you would have fallen to the floor right there. The race was called off, none of the drivers wanting to continue after that.

You were in a state of panic, your breaths coming in short painful gasps. You wanted nothing more than to be with your brother. “I need to go with him. Let me go!” You cried.

Max held you tight against his chest, his own face etched with concern for his friend. “We’ll go to the hospital. I’ll get us there, okay? He’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“You don’t know that,” you looked up at him, tears still streaming freely down your face. Your mind was a whirlwind of guilt and worry. The last words you’d both spoken to each other ran over and over through your head. You couldn’t let this stupid argument be the last thing you both said to each other.

When you got to the hospital, the news wasn’t what you wanted to hear. You wanted nothing more than to go into his hospital room and see him sitting up; to be able to tell him how sorry you were and how you hated fighting with him. The news wasn’t good though. Your brother was in the ICU, unconscious and his condition though stable was critical. You sat in the waiting room, your hand in Max’s as you waited for a nurse to bring you back to see your brother.

Hours felt like days before a doctor and nurse finally approached you and Max. They updated you on his injuries and you were finally allowed to see him. Your heart broke as you saw him through the window hooked up to various tubes, machines and wires.

You hid your face in Max’s chest as your tears fell once more, not being able to look at how broken he looked. You weren’t sure how you even had any tears left to shed.

“I should have been there for him. I shouldn’t have said those things. He wouldn’t have been driving so recklessly -“

Max cut you off, “we all drive like idiots sometimes, it’s the nature of the sport. This wasn’t your fault. He knows how much you love him.”

You nodded, knowing he was right but the guilt was still there.

“Do you want to go in and see him? I can come with you or stay out here?” Max asked.

You nodded and gripped your boyfriend's hand tighter as you both entered his ICU room. All you could do was sit and wait and pray. Pray for Charles to wake up, pray for a chance to make things right.

You sat by his side, never leaving. You barely slept, your eyes fixed on your brother, willing with everything you had for him to wake up. As the days went by the news was getting better, the machine breathing for him was removed and he was showing signs of recovery, but he still hadn’t woken up.

It was late into the third night when you felt his hand tighten around yours. You thought you had imagined it at first but your heart leapt when his fingers twitched around yours once more and his eyes began to flutter open. You jumped to your feet, tears flowing down your face once more but this time out of relief.

“Charlie?” You called hopefully, your voice thick with emotion.

Charles blinked against the harsh bright lights, disoriented but a small smile came across his lips as his gaze landed on yours.

He coughed weakly, his voice raspy from disuse, “y/n?”

“I’m here. I’m right here, Charles,” you reassured, smoothing his hair back.

He looked at her with a small smile playing at his lips despite everything he’d just been through, “you’re wearing a Ferrari hoodie?”

You let out a shaky laugh, tears still streaming down your face, “couldn’t exactly be representing Red Bull at a time like this.”

He laughed, followed by a groan.

“I’m sorry, Charlie. I am so sorry for everything. For my birthday and the fight…”

Charles squeezed your hand weakly, “I’m sorry too. I should have been there, I promised and the fight at the race…I just wanted your support as well. I didn’t realize how much I’d hurt you.”

“None of that matters now. I’m just glad you’re awake. I just need you to be okay.”

Charles nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’ll be okay and I promise I will make it up to you,” he held up his pinky which you linked with yours.

You both stayed like that for a moment, your hand clasped in his. Max stood at the doorway happy to see his friend awake and the pair of you making up.

As the doctors finished their checks and left the room, you sat down beside Charles, holding his hand.

“You scared the shit out of me, you know? Why were you driving like a dumbass?”

Charles let out a small chuckle, “not my finest moment, huh?”

“No, but you’re going to be okay and that’s all that matters. We can figure everything else out later.”

Charles nodded, his grip on your hand growing a bit stronger. “Yeah, we will. Together.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Together.”

The road to recovery wasn’t going to be easy for him but you knew he’d be back to racing and annoying you in no time. He was going to be okay and you two would work through your issues when he was better. That’s all that mattered.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #leclerc!reader #max verstappen x leclerc!reader #mine #beth writes #my writing

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percymawce-arts · 1 day

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Malevolent spoilers and angst ahead!!!

AU where Arthur and John succeed in retrieving the Black Stone and Kayne gives them Faroe back and grants John his own body but somehow in the process of getting sent back home Arthur dies.

———

There was not ‘one first thing’ that John was aware of, as such.

He was, in fact, aware of so many things at once that his newly human brain failed to process them all, and it felt as though he was aware of nothing at all.

He had been aware of screaming and crying (whether it was his own he couldn’t quite recall) and then of searing pain like none he had ever experienced tearing through his entire body. Which was new.

Now he was aware of the rain. It pittered and pattered all around him, making a sound like a loud shhh as it fell in sheets. It was coming down hard, he knew, because he could feel droplets stinging his skin with their force. They were heavy. And cold. He was heavy, and cold.

He was shivering. His teeth were chattering. His long hair was falling in wet strands into his eyes. His jaw ached. His everything ached. He had all five fingers on his left hand. He had a right hand. Both were clutching something.

Someone.

He was aware of her weight in his arms. She was heavy too, and cold. She was shivering. Her tiny fists were gripping his soaking shirt like if she happened to let go she would be pulled away, back from whence she came. Fearing the same, John held her tighter.

Most of all he was aware of her screams. Her sobs were shaking her whole, tiny frame with heaving breaths and painful hiccups. Her red face was contorted in such pain that it made John’s heart drop into his stomach (which he had never experienced before and was, therefore, highly aware of). She was crying. Crying out. Crying out for her father.

For Arthur.

John was aware of Arthur’s absence. Not in the sense he’d been expecting. He’d been expecting not to feel the strict confines of Arthur’s mind. He’d been expecting to not have Arthur’s help with primitive things such as walking or blinking. He had been expecting Arthur to be standing beside him instead of a prison around him.

But Arthur was gone.

Well and truly gone. Dead. Or, at the very least, irretrievable. John didn’t know where. Or when, for that matter, they’d been when it happened. But he knew he couldn’t get back there. Not anymore.

John was aware (painfully, painfully aware) of the fact that he would never see Arthur again. That Arthur would never see his daughter again, or her him. He was aware of the massive, weighty ball of dread that seemed to be ballooning in his chest, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pop. He wasn’t aware of what would happen when it did, and he was too afraid to do so much as breathe too hard for fear of finding out.

And so there he had been standing, in a random field somewhere inconsequential, for the past ten minutes, being too aware of everything and also not much at all, holding the screaming daughter (who should’ve been dead) of a dead man (who should’ve been alive). He knew he’d have to leave eventually. He was human now, and so was the child. They could get sick if they stayed out in the rain much longer. The cold, heavy rain that stung when it hit his skin.

He turned to her, unsure of what to say. He’d never really had to interact with children before. Not kindly, anyway. Never mind that the thing she was screaming and crying about was the very same thing John reckoned he’d be screaming and crying about had he been alone. How could he blame her for being distraught? And being loud about it. John thought that if anyone deserved to have a big fuss made about their death, it was Arthur Lester. And if anyone deserved to make it…

So he didn’t shush her, even thought he felt on the verge of tears himself (another entirely new physical sensation he was very sure he didn’t like). Instead, he pulled her closer still, tucking her soaking head and her wailing mouth under his chin, and ran his fingers gently through her hair.

Arthur used to do it when he was nervous.

“I can’t forget the night I met you,” John began to sing. He’d never sang with vocal chords before, or spoken for that matter. His voice sounded different, this way. Less imposing, he supposed. Less otherworldly. “That’s all I’m dreaming of…”

The child seemed to be shocked, momentarily, out of her fit of (rage? grief? fear?) screaming. She sucked in short breaths and hiccups against John’s collarbone, tucking her face further into his shoulder. John wondered if Arthur ever held her like this, trying to calm her down. Distract her from the millions of new and terrifying emotions raging inside her with no way to get out. He felt his eyes get hot.

“And you call it madness…” There was tingling behind his eyes, warmth pooling under them. Faroe whined. John sniffed. “Oh, but I call it love…” Another drop of water hit John’s cheek and slid down, down, down to his chin, before dropping off and landing on his bare (new) right foot. But this one was warm.

John had never cried before, not physically. It was more, he understood now, than tears. His breath kept hitching, he was gasping shakily for air between verses. His face was warm, especially his eyes, and his lips were quivering. His voice became high and uneven, his throat clogged with moisture.

“You made a promise to be faithful,” he cried. “By all the stars above…”

The girl, over her initial surprise, began to fuss again in John’s arms. She pulled at his shirt, she whined, she screamed for her father. She cried hot tears onto his skin. He thought maybe she bit him once. He just held her and ran his fingers through her hair. It was just as unruly as Arthur’s was… had been.

“And you call it madness… Ah, but I call it love…” The heavy, cold ball of ache in John’s chest finally popped, and his fell to his knees. Sobs racked his new and vulnerable frame. The girl’s weight in his lap was a small comfort against his lightheadedness, or the nausea that had suddenly overtaken him. At least she was crying too. “I’m so sorry…” he cried.

“I’m so sorry, Faroe.”

#malevolent #malevolent spoilers #intermezzo spoilers #malevolent podcast #arthur lester #john doe malevolent #faroe lester #fanfic #angst #no happy ending here i’m afraid

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mulders-too-large-shirt · 1 day

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s1 episode 12 thoughts

another episode that had me. STRESSED. OUT.

first of all... the episode being about an irish guy who sets the british aristocracy on fire... the insensitivity there is fascinating. the 90's really were a time, huh?

second of all this phoebe is very pretty and very bold to kiss mulder right in front of scully. i was shocked. and it kept getting more and more shocking! (shoutout to scully for averting her gaze when they kissed. a respectful coworker!)

and the whispered "she hates me" from phoebe and tiny waves goodbye while otherwise entirely ignoring scully's presence... yeah this is sick psychological torment

! MULDER LORE REVEAL ! he's terrified of fire! and this ex wants to get him involved on an arson case! what could go wrong? (seriously though why does he want to do this. why wasn't there another person who could take this case. i'm seeing no appeal to getting involved)

AND he leaves scully to go attend to this nonsense. betrayal.

! FURTHER MULDER LORE REVEAL ! the two broke up because she cheated on him which is revealed in the same breath as the fact that they hooked up on arthur conan doyle's grave. i will be doing my best to not psychoanalyze that and then failing. how can i look him in the eye with this knowledge.

(i think they're going for a sherlock-irene parallel here but counterpoint: i don't like it)

<3 <3 <3 scully in glasses... think my heart skipped a beat <3 <3 <3

this whole thing was soooo sick and twisted. when phoebe said "i've booked a hotel for the night" (cut to mulder in deep distress) that was evil

(also scully calling and saying she had something important and he completely blew her off... only for her to show up anyway... queen shit she literally said idgaf i'll solve ur case for you dumbass)

i'd actually like to copy out what i wrote in my notes verbatim for this next part:

"Mulder in a suit Phoebe in a backless dress. Tension is palpable oh they're dancing. SCULLY WALKED IN ON YHAT WJAT THEBHELL OH THEYREKISSING WHAT THE HELL OH SHW'S ROLLING HER EYESAT THIS OH SHE JUMPED IN"

i think that speaks for itself

but in case it DOESN'T: scully pacing outside watching them dance and kiss was distressing to me. i will reblog many gifs of this when i find them eventually. free her from this situation y'all she did NOT deserve it. luckily a fire provided an excuse to make her presence known.

when mulder was scared to go into the fire and then he passed out and then he pushed scully's hand away while she was shifting into Doctor Mode... nearly screamed. he resists the tenderness offered to him.

and then cutscene to him waking up in bed shirtless and she's there offering him water! phoebe brings him into this fire- his worst fear- and the symbolism of scully bringing him WATER!

and YET the first thing he does is: ASK FOR PHOEBE! MULDER I CANNOT KEEP MAKING EXCUSES FOR YOU (phoebe once again entirely ignores scully beyond a quick goodbye the commitment to pettiness is remarkable)

then he shows up to save the family from being lit on fire and phoebe is kissing the dad. muldershockedpikachuface.jpg (was anyone surprised. raise ur hand if u saw this coming)

but he jumped into the fire to go save the children!!! because he needs to be a hero and conquer his fears!!

i think scully had a very raw end of the deal this episode and when she knocked on his door pretending to be phoebe and asked in a british accent if he was going to buy her lunch. well. she had a good spirit about the whole thing. it's important for her to be mean to him sometimes.

during this episode i fell victim to exactly what i knew the screenwriters were doing, purposefully provoking anger in the viewer through an outrageous ex that also served as character exposition in revealing mulder's background. but once again this episode proves that dana scully deserves the world for putting up with this nonsense and somehow still choosing to have a positive attitude. give her a raise and a vacation.

#i take my episode notes on my phone and post on my laptop so typing out that reaction verbatim was hard #anyway. i saw one of the next episodes involves scully's ex so i'm looking forward to similar levels of angst.#sighs deeply. this is literally just season one. how much more of this must be endured.#mulder get it together. you looked very nice in a suit but i've had it with ur shenanigans.#AND stop romanticizing having sex on graves haven't the dead gone through enough #i think this account will slowly turn into a dana scully lovebot sort of situation. oh well! i'm a simple woman!#juni's x files liveblog #txf #the x files

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windlion · 2 years

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Malevolent screamalong, part 7! Eps 20-22

Let's head into the creepy city that's probably full of cultists for the guy we're trying to avoid, that sounds like a plan, right?

All right with an episode title like the King and heading straight into the City, I am waiting for John 1.0 to show up. The Hive Mother. Senor Amarillo.

Side-note: I have no idea if King in Yellow is an existing Lovecraftian reference or something new because I am not quite *that* far down the uh. I was about to say tentacle rabbit hole but that is SOMETHING ELSE entirely. I am not that well steeped in the Cthulhu mythos.

"Subtlety is not our strength." No shit!

Arthur do you remember that John is le fucked if you are le fucked?

I hope you guys are talking in your head because otherwise you're SUPER conspicuous.

LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOR~~~~

and John all "I am taking psychic damage, this is gnarly"

OH that can't possibly be a ~blatant trap~ could it?

Yeah, safe to say, that this guy is *not all there*

I was almost betting this guy would be also Arthur, doppelganger

"The heart of Hastur" *side-eyes John*

*eyes emoji*

"Through trial and tribulations (though not my own)" XD XD XD

I kind of love this asshole

"Lilith you bitch" *snerk*

I could 100% imagine Taliesin voicing this guy

Cain, okay, Cain, that's my new Asshat, I look forward to his sudden but inevitable betrayal

"All right, time to dick around and do all the side quests"

. . . Does the Dog Die Dot Com

*dirty glares at podcast author* NOT KOSHER

So Arthur had a sibling???

I imagine this would be a pretty bitching movie game pre-battle sequence

"Unscathed?!" I would have pointed at the crippling guilt and depression first

King, buddy, are you *jealous*?

And now, fun times!

. . . I'm not surprised things went that way

Yeah I'm kinda okay with not having THAT narrated. And now it's time for Cain to do his thing!

"We were in an accident" No, actually nothing about that was an accident

Arthur, dude, why did you even try that

I guess that was a . . . human stress reaction, but still, you know the deal you made, Arthur, why would you think there's any wiggle room

It is fun having this rerun with the balance of power reversed, I'm more invested in this dynamic

"What did you do?!"

"You weren't this difficult the first time"

It is fun having John being all "What the actual fuck happened to you"

"Than you could ever be" - Arthur, you're being judgy

And then the changeover to calling him Yellow~

Hmm

"Run" That is quite possibly the worst move you can make

Arthur you do kinda owe Yellow that apology

"The Red Right Hand" oh that's not ominous

And suddenly terrible second-hand embarrassment

*Cringing*

Goddamnit you disasters definitely shouldn't be out in public

Okay I'm not sure if this is point for or against them being a cult

*CRINGE INTENSIFIES*

Ohhhh my god okay the "people are WATCHING" is more anxiety inducing than anything else

and Yellow has a thing for dancing???

If you think animals don't have hope you have never had a dog deeply intensely yearning for your dinner

Ah and there's the name drop

(Fun fact: my high school made us recite that poem our senior year so I recognized it)

And oh ho, I see that that little hat-tip (Is there hope? Who knows!)

Next ep! I guess this is a flashback?

Yellow, deadpan, reciting the damages of the night before

"YES OKAY please stop"

Arthur, you could stop bullshitting unnecessarily

. . . . Deeeeeep sighs and we're back to the see-saw

OH actual progress, good job, Arthur!

Yellow all "You wanted a relationship?"

"Because I didn't want to be an asshole"

Cleanliness is next to godliness and dear god did you need that

Oh hey we found the cults!

Yellow "Uh shit that's BIG I don't want to fuck with that should have picked a bigger body to occupy"

I was wondering about the snowshoes

Yellow all "I DON"T KNOW ABOUT THESE HUMAN THINGS"

I'm with Arthur in the "Knowledge is power!"

So they delved too deeply here

Whomever lived here is dead because you need their loot and are terrible at interacting with living creatures, see: negative charisma score

Ohhhh that was exactly the wrong direction wasn't it

Monch and cronch time

And there we go again~~~

I am going to be smart-ish and stop here for the time being because I bet the next lot are going to run together, so we'll leave Arthur being nommed on. He's had worst resting spots. He'll be fiiiiine.

#Wind is a ridiculous creature #Malevolent podcast #screamalong #eps 20-22 #I wonder if Arthur is accruing scars from all this damage and eldritch healing #or if he's just got the memory #and a black wood finger for his troubles #it's not like Arthur is seeing them anyways #but John would #and so would anyone else looking at them #this haggard emaciated scarred-as-fuck guy clambers out of the woods one night and everyone's like *. . . YEP not fucking with that*#he's all *There's probably someone dead out there just thought you should know*#and everyone turns back to their drinks all *oookay and he reeks of crazy*

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