#also why does he actually look so small here
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toddler - Matt Sturniolo
summary: having 2 toddlers isn't the easiest, espically when you're currently pissed at your husband matt after an argument. one night you get pushed to the point of a breakdown when the kids won't behave and matt's there to help you.
contains: dad!matt, fluff, slightly suggestive , crying, slight mental breakdown, comforting, angst?
a/n: this was loosely based off of how daddy matt was in today's vid.
----———--------------..••°°°°••..------------————
7:38pm
matt and i had an argument last night leaving me in tears, he’s been in his bedroom this whole day leaving me to deal with our two twins which are both 3 and a half.
i attempt to cook up something that somewhat resembles a dinner for our girls but the only thing occupying my mind is the events of what happened last night.
yesterday
“why is this house always so fucking messy!” matt’s voice booms throughout the living room as he abruptly stands up
“shit, i don’t know maybe because you got me pregnant at 18 and i’m the only one who does anything for the kids our this house!” i raise my voice back at him
matt lets out a shocked laugh “sorry that some people have fucking jobs and don’t lay on their ass with the kids all day and call it tiring?”
“lay on my ass? i clean, i cook, i take the girls to daycare and i bring them home, i do everything”
“if everything includes not having a fucking job and using up my money that i earn then sure, you do a whole lot” matt says with a slight attitude.
“all you fucking do is act like you have it hard when you don’t! get a fucking grip” he yells
the whole room goes silent, i erupt into tears and walk out of the room to our spare bedroom
“and always fucking crying.” i hear him scoff, only making my state worse.
—
my thoughts are cut off by a wail coming from behind me, my head spins back to see millie with a fistful of claire’s hair, yanking.
i instantly drop the wooden spoon into the pot before speed walking towards the twins
“stop it!” i yell, grabbing millie from under her arms and staring into her eyes angrily “go find daddy, not acceptable millie.” i raise my voice, placing her down.
she folds her arms with a huff, stomping her little legs down the corridor to matt and i’s shared room.
“you’re okay claire” i coo, fixing her pigtail which sits on the very top of her head
i pick her up and place her down on the couch with one of her stuffed animals before making my way back towards the kitchen.
i turn down the heat on the stovetop slightly with an exhausted sigh
suddenly i hear small giggles coming from behind me followed by the backs of my knees being pushed
“fuck!” i yell, stumbling over and grabbing the handle to the pot, spilling boiling spaghetti onto the floor, also splashing up onto my sweater.
millie goes silent before sprinting in the other direction with claire
as of things couldn’t get any worse right now i hear matt’s voice start something
“what are you actually fucking doin-“ he cuts himself off when he sees the state i’m in
i burst into sobs, matt looks down at me with concern painted across his face
“hey- shh sh you’re okay, you’re okay.” he says frantically, walking over to me and kneeling on the floor
“matt i can’t do this the kids aren’t behaving and i can’t fucking make them something they’ll like-“ i start, saying in between shaking breaths
he carefully picks me up from under my arms before switching his grip to the back of my thighs, i bury my face into his shoulders and feel matt take in panicked breaths
he speed walks us down into our bedroom at the end of the corridor, “are you hurt sweetheart?” he says, placing me down on the bed and peeling my sweatshirt off of me
“did the hot water soak through? shit.” matt says trying to stay calm.
“no-“ i sniff, rubbing my eyes. matt yanks his sweatshirt off his body and lays it across me like a blanket.
“stay right here okay? i’m gonna sort the kids out then put them to bed, then i’ll come back to talk, try get some sleep for me gorgeous.”
matt presses a kiss to my nose before rushing out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.
i have a clear view of kitchen from where i’m laying so i see matt walk into the kitchen before kneeling down
“c’mere.” he demands, sticking out his arms. millie and claire toddle over to him with a guilty expression across their face.
“tell me what’s happened.” matt says sternly, maintaining eye contact with both of them.
millie bursts into tears almost immediately as she looks at matt
matt runs his hand up and down her arm as he waits for a response
“we- we pushed mommy and she fell and spilt hot water on her and hurt her” she sniffs
“a-and.. and you’re mad at me” she continues.
“do i look mad sweetheart?” matt says softly, claire shrugs along with millie
“i’m really really sad that you weren’t behaving for mommy, and i know you know better than that right?” matt speaks
millie nods, wiping her nose with the backs of her hand
“and now i’m gonna ask you to go clean up the spill with claire and then we’re gonna go say sorry to mom okay?” he says gently, pressing two kisses to the girls forehead
they nod in unison before going into the kitchen, matt hands them the paper towels and they instantly drop down to there knees and attempt to clean the mess.
matt watches while biting his nails “why do you think you made mommy cry though?” he says, claire looks up at him with a heaped pile of paper towels in her hands
“because we were naughty.” claire sighs, matt nods while gathering the piles of drenched paper towels and throwing them away.
“what i’m ‘gonna ask you to do is sit down at the kitchen table and think about how you will say sorry to mommy tomorrow while i make you dinner okay girls?”
claire and millie run over to the dining table, more than hungry and tired now.
matt sorts through the pantry before settling on mac and cheese which i wasn’t even sure we had.
after a good 10 minutes matt brings over the two small bowls to the twins, who have been silent ever since they sat down.
“you have to eat all of this okay?” matt says while placing the bowls down. claire and millie nod
—-
8:56pm
matt finishes up the last dishes in the sink before walking over to the girls “you alright?” he asks softy before picking both of them up, one in each arm.
matt walks down the corridor, flashing me a quick smile as both the girls bury their head in his shoulders.
“they’re very tired” he mouths to me with a small laugh while walking into their shared bedroom.
i hear the door shut followed by matt walking into our bedroom. “you feeing better gorgeous?” he asks calmly as he flops down in bed beside me.
“thank you for doing that.” i sigh, rubbing my eyes with my palms.
“don’t thank me? i’m their dad and i realise that after yesterday’s.. argument that you’re right and i do need to start caring more.” matt looks over at me.
“you don’t have to just say that” i whisper
“i’m not just saying that, i actually mean it.” matt responds with an unreadable expression
“the shit you said last night..” i start, my voice wobbling “i’m gonna find it hard to forget, because i know that in that moment you meant it.”
matt goes silent,
“and i know that you’re busy but i try, so hard to make you and the girls happy, meaning that i don’t have free time to work because everything i do is for you?” i keep going, several tears now rolling down my cheeks
“so you saying that you should help our more around the house and pretending like everything’s perfect between us isn’t gonna fix shit.”
i physically can’t keep speaking unless i want to start sobbing so i stop, taking in a shaky breath.
matt doesn’t say anything back, instead sitting up and grabbing me and pulling me into a deathly tight hug.
the few tears that fell dampen the shoulder of his shirt as he rubs my back.
“i don’t even know how to apologise.” matt says, his voice trembling.
“please- don’t cry.” he whispers, “i’m just really tired” i squeeze out
“i know i’ve been a shit.. person for the past year or so and trust me, you and the girls are on my mind every single minute of every day and- and there’s no excuse for what i said yesterday except for the fact i wasn’t thinking straight.”
matt rambles
“i shouldn’t have yelled, or said anything. i know, i know you have it way harder than me, and i’m not just saying that it’s true.”
“you don’t have to forgive me at all today, tomorrow or in general for this but i love you and i’m so sorry.”
matt finishes by pulling away to look at my face, which he cups in both his hands.
“thank you.” is the only thing i reply with, somewhat shocked by that 2 minute long tangent.
matt lays back down on the matress, pulling me towards him. i lay my head down on his chest with a deep breath in, instantly falling asleep
————
9:56am the next day
the morning sun burns into the side of my face as i roll over in bed,
my eyebrows knit together when i realise matt’s not next to me like normal.
i sit up in bed, wiping my eyes as i attempt to run my fingers through my tangled hair.
i stumble out of bed towards the door of our bedroom, gripping the handle lazily and swinging it open.
the whole house is perfectly clean “what the fuck..” i mumble to myself as i walk into the living room where my eyes lay on my favourite sight
my 3 favourite people, matt claire and millie are sat on the sofa, matt’s in the middle and the girls are cuddled up to his side while matt holds open a picture book which he stops reading when i walk in.
“good morning pretty” matt smiles stupidly, i grow a small smile on my face.
“i think that someone has something to say to mom?” matt says, looking down at each of the girls.
they run up to me and wrap their arms around each of my legs “were really sorry” claire says, i bend down to their height and give them a smile
millie follows up with a “and i’m sorry for hurting you a- and i love you a lot!” she says with a cute smile.
“it’s okay sweetheart, i love you.” i grin, wrapping my arms around them before standing back up.
“and i’m gonna make it up to you tonight” matt says quietly while walking over to me
“matthew bernard! you horny mother fucker” i whisper.
————
@luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @recklessmatt @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209
#sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo angst#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo smut
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Snippet Canis Major
Voldemort remembers the other Sirius. Also, a little glimpse at Orion/Walburga, because I never tire of this toxic couple.
(-)
Usually, it was Arcturus or Pollux that showed up when their children got in trouble. Cygnus, especially, was often in trouble, so Pollux’ face was the most familiar to the students.
In Voldemort’s sixth year at Hogwarts, Atticus Bulstrode, the Head Boy, invited Walburga to Hogsmeade, the last in a lengthy string of boys asking her out. Only this time, she accepted.
When he heard, Orion challenged him to a formal duel. Atticus laughed, rolled his eyes at his fourteen years old opponent.
“Quick!” He was shaken awake by Abraxas, in the middle of the night.“Orion is killing Bulstrode in the trophy room! You have to stop him!”
He reached them just in time, he disarmed Orion, and rushed Bulstrode to the Hospital Wing, where they found Dumbledore asking the Matron for a sleeping potion.
Atticus was lucky- Dumbledore was more often than not away from Hogwarts, chasing Grindelwald, rumour went, but he was there that night, apparently suffering with insomnia.
The professor kept Atticus alive until the Healers from St Mungo arrived and took the boy with them.
“It wasn’t me,” he said, hurriedly, stained in Bulstrode’s blood, lingering in the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore peered at him from under his half-moon glasses. Dumbledore always liked to blame everything on him. “I only brought him here after-”
“I know,” Dumbledore assured him.
The next morning Atticus’ father came thundering, his yells easily heard from where Voldemort was spying, near the Headmaster office.
He wondered if maybe this will be the time when a Black actually suffers consequences. After all, Bulstrode’s name was ancient, they were a rich, influential family, and surely, at least on account of that, Dippet would do something more than detention and points taken, which was the usual punishment for Blacks.
Only, this time it wasn't Arcturus that came to fix his son's issues.
It was the infamous Sirius Black. A tall man, with wide shoulders, long black hair hanging around his face, deep circle under his too intense eyes, mouth twisted in a snarl. Orion walked behind him, his gaze fixed on his older relative. Voldemort watched them, hidden by a pillar. Orion never seemed small; he carried himself with such arrogance and pride, his head held so high he seemed a foot taller than he was. Yet right then, Orion looked small, trailing after his grandfather, quietly, as Voldemort observed them disappear up the stairwell leading to the Headmaster's chambers.
They left Dippet’s office not even a quarter of an hour after they entered it.
As soon as they emerged from it, the gargoyles closing the door behind them, old Black slapped Orion, the noise echoing down the hallway.
“Next time you pull something like this, do it on a weekday, you fool! If I’m woken up again at this ungodly hour on your account on a Sunday, you will be very sorry for it.”
“Yes, Grandfather,” Orion answers, in that unfazed tone of his.
The old man narrows his eyes. “What was it about, anyway? How did he provoke your ire?”
A second worth of silence. “He tried stealing from me.”
Orion gets hit again, harder this time. The heavy family ring rips the skin at the corner of his left eye, and that pure blood of theirs makes an appearance.
“Then why does he still have hands?” the old man hisses, enraged. “If someone attempts to take what is yours, you cut off their hands, boy!”
He slaps Orion again, just as harshly.
“Yes, Grandfather.” Orion doesn't take his eyes off his grandfather, doesn't wipe away the blood running down his cheek, his hands held behind his back.
Sirius Blacks huffs in displeasure, before turning on his heels and marching down the hallway. “Weakling,” he mutters.
Nothing happened to Orion. Not even the usual detention. No points taken.
Sirius Black insisted it was a formal duel, that the challenge had been accepted, and it was all done honourably, Slughorn told Voldemort, when he called him into his office to give him the Head Boy badge, temporarily, until Atticus recovered and would be able to return to Hogwarts and his duties.
“When Armando reminded him duels are illegal at Hogwarts, formal or not, Mr Black said rules are just words on parchment; that he’s a wizard, and he follows laws of magic, not of men.” Slughorn sighs, rubs at his temples, and then he takes a caramel out of his newest bribe-sweets bag that Abraxas gave him. “He told Mr Bulstrode that if he wants justice, then he should challenge him to a duel, and solve it like wizards ought to. Of course, Mr Bulstrode has more than one brain cell, so he refused and let it go.” He sighs again, points a sugar coated finger at Tom. “This is why I always told you not to seek trouble with Blacks. We’re lucky he’s apparently taken to drinking lately, locked up in his Manor, that he lets Arcturus handle most of their affairs, who is much milder and reasonable. But, once in a while, he gets out and you do not wish to run afoul of him.”
No one in the common room talked of it; only Walburga complained she was looking forward to going to the newly opened teashop in Hogsmeade, and demanded to know what was Orion’s problem with Atticus.
“A Quidditch thing,” Orion told her, with a shrug. “Don’t worry, Waly. I’ll take you to Madam Puddifoot’s.”
“I don’t want to go with my baby cousin, don’t be ridiculous! Malfoy, you will take me!”
Abraxas backs away, slowly. “I can’t, Walburga. I’m busy, I have to study,” he says, hastily, when Orion glares at him from behind Walburga.
It was the only time mild-tempered, well behaved Orion did something so outrageous that his unhinged grandfather had to come and solve it, so it was the only time Voldemort saw the man.
#my writing#it runs in the blood#canis major#black family insanity#Orion would commit murder for the chance to take Walburga on a date#wizarding world corruption#Blacks should stop naming boys Sirius because they all turn out insane
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VOX'S TURTLENECK IS RED AND KNIT - a fully comprehensive post
STOP BEING IN DENIAL YOU FOOLS. the poll may be over, and red may have won, but some of you still don't understand so here's a consolidation of all my points, if you haven't noticed this discourse is VERY serious and important
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COLOUR
as I've brought up in that godforsaken poll, vox's turtleneck is red because it matches the colour of val's wings
as you can see, these are both taken from the section of the photo that's under the same shadow
if you want to argue that part of the turtleneck is not the same lighting as val's sleeve
you can see that comparing vox's turtleneck sleeve which is RIGHT ABOVE val's sleeve and therefore DEFINITELY the same lighting, it's still a similar colour. therefore, vox's turtleneck is definitely a similar colour to val's wings and since we know val's wings are red, vox's turtleneck must also be red.
okay but what if val was ALSO wearing orange?
possible! but also I'd put that as less likely since the wings are PART of his body and more likely didn't change colour
not to mention it matches up with vox's eyes which we also know are red, yes it's possible that vox ALSO had orange eyes because he is a screen but what are the odds that both vox and val for some reason originally had orange eyes and orange wings respectively then changed to red? it's more likely that they were always red and the photo is just washed out to make it look orange.
however, I do accept people who see all the red stuff as orange because at least you admit the colours match, also admire the dedication to doubling down on orange
THE LIGHTING ON VOX'S TURTLENECK! IT'S CLEARLY YELLOW!
yellow is easily debunked because there are actual yellow things present in the photo we can compare to! gonna be reiterating from a previous post
see the heart on val's belt? we KNOW that's yellow
now let's go back to our favourite picture
that's the boy! let's start comparing it
val's inner left sleeve matches up with the yellow heart! therefore it is also yellow, and unless val is wearing mismatched inner sleeves, this indicates his right inner sleeve is ALSO yellow
so all of these! they are yellow!
and we can see, said yellow does not match vox's turtleneck at all, not even when I pick out the lighting on it, it doesn't match the turtleneck in any of the lighting, therefore vox's turtleneck is most DEFINITELY not yellow.
it being red also matches up with vox's current colour palette being blues and reds and it makes sense that he had the same palette back then too.
if you believe vox's eyes and val's wings are both also orange, it could be orange. I can live with that. but it is most likely red.
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okay but what about the stripes?
THERE ARE NO FUCKING STRIPES Y'ALL DRIVE ME INSANE. MORE INSANE THAN YELLOW TRUTHERS.
THOSE VERTICAL LINES YOU SEE. those are BLACK LINES, which are the OUTLINE, REPRESENTING THE KNITTING PATTERN.
I SWEAR SOME OF YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW SWEATERS WORK.
but when I colour-pick it it's not black!
my fucking god PLEASE tell me you know how low quality black lines work. time to reiterate more points from my previous posts!
you understand that the outline around val should be black right?
but would you take a look at that, colour picking it makes it look like just a darker colour of the inner colour. why? BECAUSE IT'S A SMALL PICTURE THAT'S OVERALL IN LOW QUALITY, so the black gets thinned down to hell that you can't even see the black anymore. BUT IT'S STILL A BLACK OUTLINE. THE SAME LOGIC APPLIES TO VOX'S SWEATER
let's use a normal line as an example
here is a black line
here is that same black line resized down to a lower quality.
NOTICE HOW IT'S GREY NOW? are we going to insist it was never black now because it's sized down?? NO. IT'S JUST A LOWER QUALITY BLACK LINE THAT LOSES OPACITY AS IT'S SIZED DOWN. THIS IS THE LOGIC I GO BY.
okay but what if they were black vertical stripe--
YOU ARE KILLING ME NO IT IS NOT. IT'S A SWEATER IT MAKES MORE SENSE FOR IT TO BE A KNITTING PATTERN THAN VERTICAL STRIPES. but okay. at least you still see the same thing as me you just... interpret... it differently.
but I swear on god, the black lines represent the KNITTING PATTERN, it makes MUCH more sense for it to be that because it's a sweater.
arguments about orange or yellow going together better with vox's jacket are extremely irrelevant to this argument when 90% of red things in hazbin hotel would probably look better if they weren't red. I'm not arguing that it even looks better! I'm just arguing that it is what it is and you should ACKNOWLEDGE THE TRUTH.
AND THEREFORE. THE STUPID FUCKING TURTLENECK IS RED AND KNIT. I REST MY CASE.
#osrs.txt#vox's stupid fucking turtleneck#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel vox#vox#vox hazbin#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel#if you've been following along these probably sound familiar#I just wanted to put them all together#now when vox walks up with his stupid fucking red turtleneck in season 2 I can point to this post and say I was right
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Maxie Infodump #1 - Little known character details from official media
I promised to post some of my maxie infodumps and headcannons, and I think I'll start it off with something simple. His official character bio that was hosted originally on the first release of ORAS
(this will be ORAS Maxie focused)
here is a transcript for easy reading:
"Maxie is the leader of Team Magma, the team seeking a world ideal for humanity. He pays attention to even the smallest of details, and is quite sensitive in some regards. He has a habit of describing situations in numerical terms. He possesses a cool-headed outlook, thinking that some sacrifices cannot be avoided if he is to achieve his goals."
Okay, so first, after looking at the original japanese version of this page,
小さいことまで細かく気にする、神経質なところがあり、さまざまなことを数字を交えてあらわすのが口癖。
目的を果たすためなら、犠牲が出ても仕方ないと考える冷徹な思想の持ち主でもある。
The one word in here I wanted to be sure of was 'sensitive' since it can have many meanings, and the original japanese gives us some possibilities with:
Personally I think (being) highly strung is the most likely option here, but either way its an interesting character trait. And we all know he certainly builds up frustration and tension and explodes a bit like a volcano. Even if he does manage to correct himself afterwards.
~ ANYWAYS ~
Now that we have the bio, let's break it down a little and look at some fun examples of it in action!
Maxie has a habit of describing situations in numerical terms. This typically comes out more when he is nervous or stressed. Here are some examples:
Ill just take ORAS as an example here since this is already getting pretty long...
In ORAS after fighting him at mt chimney, he lets you know in a specific numerical way, how much he fell behind:
And then again, when you battle with him and lose in the Battle Resort where he just has to let you know the situation in numerical terms by giving you the exact lose chance according to his own calculations of course:
"So the great Maxie has fallen, even when battling alongside your team... I shall commit this curious phenomenon to memory. It had less than a 1 percent probability of occurring, you know."
this culminates in a really interesting interaction between him and courtney after the delta episode. While It's pretty clear that Maxie cares for his team and especially his admins, he definitely struggles when faced with his crying admin, and being unsure of what to say, he settles with a numerical quantifier again.
He assesses the situation, and decides to comment on how MUCH courtney is crying.
His "paying attention to even the smallest details" trait also ties into this habit of his, and is probably why he jumps to conclusions a little too early because of small things he's noticed. Accusing Tabitha of wanting his spot as leader, just because he disagreed with him is one of those situations.
Pokemon Masters EX has a lot of new scenes with Maxie, and I would love to talk all day about them, but I'll just pick out one here, and that's from the "A pasio Spectacle" event.
In this event, Maxie overhears team break members simply say the word 'glasses' and instantly jumps to the conclusion that not only did they want to talk to him, but that they noticed his "magnificent mega glasses" and would like to hear a lecture on how they were scientifically made.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rZmmaf9bhD8&t=144s
here's a link to watch it, its worth it :D
He certainly picks up on small details, but tends to miss the bigger picture sometimes, which is fun because I believe archie tends to do the opposite.
Perhaps his mega glasses are actually designed to reflect this, because they work like horse blinders, and keep maxie looking straight ahead (trust me, I've made a pair of these, and you cannot see someone standing to your immediate side).
Looking straight ahead is also relevant to his life goal, of ensuring the bright future of humanity, and as he says: "propel humanity to greater heights of progress and evolution."
And that concludes my infodump regarding this one little bio that is no longer available without the wayback machine, and I just wanted to share it with any other Maxie fans out there :D
Next I think I might tackle the bigger topic of how Archie and Maxie have so many fun contrasts in personality and more. and then maaayyybe I'll feel comfortable enough sharing my headcannons and theories. But only if people want more lol, I am not good at writing big posts :>
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ok heres my wakfu/waven oc sorry i wrote so much. In a few minutes ill add the text written on the image under a readmore. and also probably more text than that. sorry
The text on the image:
Siamont
-Waven-era
-runs orphanage
-mute, no tail
-Before Waven's great wave, he was a Sufokian fisherman along with his dad
-He lost his younger brother (who he sort of raised) in the wave
-With the influx of orphans post-wave, he started an orphanage
-He's used to Sufokia's relative acceptance of less "humanoid" races. As a result, he doesn't want to associate with the countries because they tend to exclude or oppress "monsters" (He takes anyone @ the orphanage)
(Arrow pointing to top drawing)
-He's very patient with all children, but he has none for threats to them (mostly pirates)
(Arrow pointing to his tail tuft in the left drawing)
His tail was amputated when he was a child. Sufokian rogue pirate mafia incident. This trauma was why he initially stopped talking, he just never really started again.
He still doesn't really like rogues.
(Arrow pointing to him smiling nervously in the right drawing)
Wishes the little iop would stop hitting crabs with a rock but she's so proud of herself he doesn't want to interrupt.
More text no one asked for:
He's very gentle with kids and has a small island orphanage that scrapes by on donations and goodwill. At high tide, there is no sand and the building (ramshackle. Siamont's been adding onto it and building it himself, mostly. As a result, it kind of looks like a boat, actually) looks like its floating on the water, but at low tide there's plenty of space for kids to run and hunt for extra food like molluskies and cwabs. Most of the kids' clothing seems to be repurposed from pirates. If you ask, the kids will tell you he sends the little ones off with the older children to take care of them before handling pirates by himself. Because they don't have much to steal anyway, there haven't been groups of pirates big or strong enough that he couldn't handle it, getting by without major injuries.
He takes on any kids at all that need help. This means trools, puddlies, taurs, and other less-humanoid "monsters." He does try to get children of those groups with their own kind if he can, but twelvians have a less communal child-rearing style, so most of the kids in the orphanage longer-term are twelvians.
Also, he tends to keep people in each of the cities aware that his orphanage exists. Many parents come looking for their children they lost track of during or after the wave. Mostly, this is where donations come from.
As a kid, he tended to be the "babysitter" for quite a few fisherpeople's kids, including his younger brother. He's just always liked kids, although he was less gentle when he was also a child himself and had a tendency to yell and get angry, which he doesn't have anymore.
Sufokia has a lot of pirate rogues who have a mafia-type hold on the Sufokian economy (source: wakfu game lol). He and his younger brother were getting into normal kid trouble and stuck their noses where they didnt belong. A pirate stomped his tail under his boot to stop him fleeing, and they toyed with him for an hour or so before letting him go (in spite of a lot of "well, he might talk- he could be a spy" type talk). His tail had to be amputated, and he just didn't really talk much after that.
His younger brother was studying to be a lawyer as he wanted to finally get some of the more open rogues behind bars for crimes that were hard to address to them. Siamont considered him to be the family's pride and joy, while his brother appreciated Siamont taking on the family profession with their dad and helping him pay for school. Their dad died sometime before the wave. Their mother was not present in their childhoods, and their dad didn't really talk about her much.
#i have another oc. but im shyer about him. you have to unlock the next level of friendship to see him#wakfu#fanart#be niceys Please…..#this ones for the crepinjurgenites now you HAVE to show me yours#undescribed#waven
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David/Angel cooking for your prompt practice ^^
Okay, so we're about to make a deal. I will write this BUT you can't be too mean /j. Actually /hj because I don't really write this pairing and ur like THE David/Angel enjoyer in my head. But I will try for the sake of science (practice). Plus I always like expanding my abilities and this will be a fun challenge.
Pairing: David/Angel
WC: 897
Rating: Gen.
Aether is talking about this post.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
David won't admit it, but he does enjoy cooking with Angel. Occasionally.
They're a pain to deal with, but there's something about seeing them focus on something that they're both working on that gets to him. Not to mention that during these times he was grateful for the help.
It was another solstice. The pack was coming over for their usual party, and Angel had insisted on helping out this time, claiming that David would need it since they were bulk-making a lot of food (completely ignoring the fact that he's done it previously.) David, having seen what they could do by themselves when he was bringing over Asher, Milo, Tank, and their mates, decided that they'll give it a try this year. He warned them that things had to happen a certain way though, since he was used to doing it like that. Angel said that they could handle it. They've watched him before, they knew the drill.
So, they got to work.
Angel wasn't good at cooking for themselves, but when it came to bigger meals they suddenly became a five-star chef. David didn't even have to delegate tasks, it was like the two of them were performing a dance that only they knew. There was only occasionally he would have to ask for something, but it was always at the ready. The two were done prep in no time, and the only thing left was to supervise the cooking. David leaned against the counter, drying dishes as Angel washed them. He couldn't stop watching them for some reason.
"Take a picture it will last longer," Angel teased, a small grin flitting their lips.
"Why now?" David asked suddenly.
"Why now... what?" Angel giggled.
"Why help now? Why let me cook for you all these years?"
Angel's smile softened a bit. They shrugged in that way that always (affectionately) irked him, looking up to him. "Wanted to."
"Wanted to?" David repeated.
"Yeah. There was never really anyone that... did that for me. I was always so used to making big meals with my mom, and then when I moved out it was... hard to adjust. Does that make sense? I was on my own, and I never made anything more than a simple dish for myself before when I got peckish. So, those habits stuck around. And then you came along, and..." Angel looked away, smile widening even more. They distracted themself with the dishes. "And here we are."
David didn't have an answer right away. He was expecting some witty, light-hearted, hell even flirty answer. Not this. He didn't mind this, not in the slightest, but--
"And not to mention that you look sexy while you're cooking."
He spoke too soon.
"You liked watching me cook," David clarified.
"Partly, yes. It was also partly because it made me feel loved. It's also partly because I know its how you show love, so..." They trailed off, shrugging again before handing him the next dish. "Win-win."
"Win-win," David light-heartedly mocked, rolling his eyes.
Angel flicked water at him in retaliation, giggling. "It is! You like cooking, I like watching you cook, we both get a meal out of it--both metaphorically and physically--there's love in every aspect. There's not much more I could ask for, Davey."
David thought about the ring that was currently sitting in his nightstand. He was sure there was something more they could ask for. He shook his head to clear it, refocusing as another dish was handed to him.
"Maybe I should get you doing dishes more if it has you like this," he said. "You're actually romantic right now."
Angel scoffed in mock offence. "What does that mean? I'm always romantic!"
"With a lot of innuendos, and flirty comments, and--"
"Well, I'm sorry," Angel interrupted, "It is not everyday I am able to flirt to my heart's content with probably the hottest guy I've ever dated."
"Not the hottest guy you've ever seen?"
"No. Because you are not Tom Hiddleston. Unfortunetly."
"Unfortunately?" David asked with a chuckle.
Angel sighed dreamily. "I'd probably leave you in a heartbeat if that man asked," They teased.
David laughed. "Uh-huh. Okay."
Angel giggled. "You laugh now, but it's a possibility. You might wake up one day with a note beside you. It would say," they put on a dramatic voice, "'eloped with Tom. You were a great fuck, but I can't deny my true desires. Sucks to suck, I guess.' Except the 'I guess' would just be the letters I-G."
David shook his head in amusement, grinning. "Would you really leave me for him?"
Angel pulled the plug from the sink, rinsing off their hands, with another sigh. "No. Probably not. You're too good to me to do that."
David put the last dish away. "Right. That's reassuring."
"You think I'm hot enough to pull Tom?"
David pulled them into a kiss when the tap turned off. "I think you're hot enough to pull anybody you wanted, Angel. It's why I'm lucky you decided to keep me around."
Angel smiled at him, eyes crinkling a bit. David went to kiss them again but got stopped by their wet hands running through his hair and over his face. He leaned back to the sound of Angel's giggles.
"Why you--"
They wiggled out of his grip, taking off. David started after them, chuckling himself as he went.
-END-
#thank you aether ^^#plutonium_oneshot#redacted audio#redactedverse#redacted david#redacted angel#this was NOT the original idea#but here we are#it's kinda skirting the whole cooking part#but whatever#hopefully its still to standard ^^
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A "theory" regarding Sampo's abilities
okay so this is an absolute mess and more of a ramble but I think it might be worth sharing so here I am
Since I'm very normal about Sampo Koski, I've noticed some paralels to.. osme things... and i ended up with a concept that Sampo might be aware/know the script - just like Elio does
On Belobog we don't encounter stellaron hunters (for obvious reasons), but Sampo does end up being the one who affects the way the plot goes and actively puts it in motion, he's the one in control (to some extent)
He also appears to be aware of stuff that has yet to happen and its possible outcomes (getting Natasha even before we started fighting Svarog, knowing that we will arrive on Luofu despite it being an unplanned stop, the possible future Belobog catastropy)
There's 2 ways to approach this:
1. He works with the Script in mind (following the trailblazer around, kinda like stellaron hunters happen to do)
2. He deliberately works against it (Jarilo VI is supposed to face destruction but he prevents it, could be for personal reasons)
Theres also the whole thing about him breaking the 4th wall, which could be connected. Awarnesss of the fact that this is a game could result in him having a knowledge of what the plot of said game is.
I strongly HC Sampo to be an Elation emanator, so I thought about what being an elation emanator could mean, as in, how realistically the powers could manifest
From the recent guide that was released along side the 2.2 stream, we have a small entry about Masked Fools which confirms that the path powers are DIRECTLY tied to their masks (this could mean both metaphorical or physical masks but from what i get from the context here it most likely refers to the physical ones?? the concept works with both possibilities tho so whatever <3 )
We know that sampo doesn't have his mask currently (which also works in a symbolic way, Masks represent the devotion to Elation, him not having it could represent how he wants to distance himself from what Elation is considered to be and pursue his own idea of it instead. The general description provided here for how masked fools are doesn't exactly fit him either whichmight further prove that idea, i should write a seperate post on that, anyways-) , so how the hell can he do shit that we assumed earlier was Elation-related powers?
i have 2 possible explanations for this
1. Him being an emanator lets him use the path powers without a need for a mask, if thats the case - the mask would only provide a powerup
2. Elation emanator powers are something else altogether
when we look at his current power set/abilities it can all be tied to the fact that this is a game
so, him bieng an emanator of elation would allow him to ignore the rules of this world/mainupulate said rules, simple as that
it would also explain why he can break the 4th wall, why he is aware of the script in the first place and how he can do stuff that contradicts what's been established lore vise (like how nobody should be able to cross the barrier between the Overworld and Underworld), those rules don't apply to him, he's beyond them.
But there's more
we DO have an in game example of people already messing with the reality in the same manner - Silver Wolf
From what I gathered (with help of some friends of mine mwah mwah), the "reality editing" abilites of Punklorde people are directly tied to a technology present in said world - that combined with the world view of those living here results with them reating the world they live in as if it was a game
Adding onto that, during "punklorde mentality" mission we get to hear Leonard say this:
"Masked fools believe it really exists"
so are the Masked Fools aware that someone could posses *actual* (not provided by technology) power to alter/manipulate reality and ignore the established rules of the world?
We can kinda see such thing happening with Aha in stimulated universe, not only do they break the 4th wall, but according to Herta they also seem to be affecting the stimulated universe itself
Aha's manipulation of reality is also mentioned in the "Glimpses into the Beyond"
So maybe to wrap it all up:
1. Sampo could be aware of the script and use the reality manipulation abilities/the fact that the rules don't apply to him to achieve a desired outcome
2. Him and the Stellaron Hunters have some paralels in the narrative when it comes to the role that they play and what they do?? kinda???
3. Punklorde people could be affiliated with Elation to some extent, even if not directly blessed by it
I am probably VERY wrong about all of this but honestly I'm having fun with this theory so idc <3
#sampo koski#hsr sampo#honkai star rail#masked fools#Aha the Elation#theory#stellaron hunters#I need to throw Elio into the blender to learn their secrets#hsr silver wolf#hsr thoughts#5 star sampo needs to come out faster because im losing my mind here yayyyyyy
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This is so cute like. Charles hiding behind his man in a game of chicken.
#also why does he actually look so small here#like he’s the size carlos’ younger brother#Carlos’ hair was SO LONG here and the little tufts that curl out under his ears!!!#charles leclerc#carlos sainz jr#scuderia ferrari#f1#charlos#c2#c square
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I hope you blink before I do (Patreon)
#Doodles#SCII#Helix#ZEX#DAX#Blood#Fuck you *reinjects romance into your song about love-lost*#It's the ''I want to be the one to lay you to rest'' of it all#Or if not that then at least to be the last one suffering#See him off - make sure he goes knowing that he's not alone#I'm Fine just Don't Look at me and I'll Be Fine#Schrödinger's Fine lol - I am simultaneously Fine and Not Fine until I am observed#I simply subsist largely off of angst and then whatever small scrap of comfort that can be coaxed from there hehe#I am very mean to them considering how much I want them to be happy lol#Honestly I think what would be meaner is seeing ZEX off and then somehow DAX survives alone#Night ends just as he's about to blink out and oops you're still stuck here sorry about that <3#But I wouldn't do that to them would I?#:3c#I also think it's interesting that I started doodling this before I actually read ZEX's death - I finished it after but still!#Does he just give off gutted vibes? Canonically he's eviscerated so#And not just in the eye way - in this case it's enucleation#Did you come here for eye removal surgery puns? I don't see why you'd expect anything different *b'dm tss*#I've done way more research on eye removal than I ever expected to but now those two terms will be forever seared into my mind haha#Hhh ZEX's death was very affecting to me ;; I'll talk about it more with its accompanying doodle but really 💔#I wanted an honourable death for him - and if not that then a death where he wasn't alone - and if not that then to rest#He got one of the three ;;
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waa
#hamtaro#hamtaro ham ham heartbreak#ham ham heartbreak#hamtaro spat#hamtaro boss#debihamu#i have a screenshot folder of him#hes actually the cutest wa wa woo cutie face ever#some of these are screenshot studies#self insert#me#self insert x canon#its established im into size dif but me being so super small here is particularly inspired by art of a person and their gigantic hamsters#loveeeeeeeeeeee#this boy does not know what to do he doesnt DO Lovey Dovey and is alarmed and frightened#he doenst know how to not be mean so he just. goes stiff and rolls with it if he cant bring himself to make me leave#he doesnt want to... bc he Likes me and wont admit it(tm)#the face of him screaming in confusion is one of my favorite things rn#also im very proud of that Boss doodle why does he look so good i love him too#my art#illustrations
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I think I'm having trouble with the story because in my head, Knack is trapped in the super melodramatic Bad Ending. Oop possibly spoilers
Nothing is resolved to any satisfaction, and it is in fact squashed down and buried under quasi-normalcy under the guise of giving him a break from uh, everything. Nothing *can* return to normal, but everyone around him pretends otherwise, well-meaningly. They try to return to a simpler time as though shit didn't hit the fan and the little things leading up to it didn't happen. Like half the lab may or may not have needed to be rebuilt. This drives him absolutely bananas, and by extension also drives me bananas.
But it's not necessarily denial on their part? It's like they're babying him too much. This is where I bring up the age thing and that whole weirdness. He grew up fast, but his family wonders too late if it was *too* fast.
Ironically, I think that if I step away for a while, I can somehow come back and develop a different idea of how things will go down. Even though this version of the story literarily has no takesie backsies as a theme (given that this attempt to sort of 'do over' or extend Knack's childhood massively backfired. I sound insane). So resolving the conflict with authorial time-travel is hilarious.
I'm hoping I'll have a better sense of the characters and what sort of decisions they make, especially The Doctor, Lucas, and Knack himself.
#I said this before but: every time I turn around my interpretation of KNACK just gets weirder and more uncomfortable.#Like the epilogue draft gives me the heebie jeebies#and I can’t quite explain why?#well it probably has to do with everything I explained here and also that Knack is encouraged to talk when he's small.#He does say a few words here and there but I think he's forcing it to make his family happy.#They aren't trying to force him but somehow I interpret him as a people-pleaser. could be the projection? but I mean.#he seems so eager to help#he was nearly bouncing and looking at the doctor and smiling? when Viktor said he needed Knack's help.#Wyd if your name is a promise you can't keep? Oh god I do *not* want to rename him.#crying screaming throwing up#I'm not actually having a breakdown I feel pretty good at least for the moment#been having mood swings tho because uhh biology
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Since I’ve been encouraged to actually share my funny little blorbo ideas here’s another one gang;
Danny moves to Gotham on scholarship for engineering, because the Fentons may be infamous but they’re also insanely brilliant and besides both he and Jazz are showing every sign of embarrassed child of a super genius syndrome, so while the bats are keeping a close eye on him Just In Case, duke is also thinking of introducing him to the Our Parents Are Maniacs But Anyway club maybe after the first month or so.
Gotham does not go for standard dorm living bc of his ‘condition’ and lack of wanting to constantly spook/gaslight a roommate. Besides, living with two small children is a dorm sounds like a disaster in action.
So Danny signs up as a mechanic in Crime Alley, buys himself a teeny weensy lil apartment and Makes It Work. He has been all year after showing up with a de aged Dani and Dan in Amnity after all, and that had gone,,, fine? (The entire town, observing how Danny had been getting increasingly more uncomfortable around his godfather prior to the cloning incident, then just dropped off the face of the earth for several months, the first two weeks stuck in Vlad’s basement enduring horrors and the next Too Many desperately fapping around in the Ghost Zone to get everything handled. All the clones live, all 13 of them. Bunch of them are stuck in the Ghost Zone due to constant need for ectoplasm, but eh, plenty of Zone born never leave, so. One, in the future, apprentices under a green warrior lady on Pandora’s suggestion, another is working in the Eternal Library with Ghost Writer, etc etc. so Danny eventually came back to Amnity with one small child under each arm very obviously traumatized by Somethingn with vlad and doesn’t like being alone with him,,, or touched without warning,, and immediately and passionately proclaims the kids his but struggles to explain how or why,, look some very reasonable assumptions are drawn okay. So the town does the very reasonable thing and does the midwestern equivilant of excommunicating Vlad, except it’s a lot more run him out with pitchforks vibes since he’s the Mayor. Anyway)
He is immediately loved, because while non Gothamites are usually more of a pain than they’re worth, everyone in a while someone even from out of town will just fit in so nicely it’s uncanny for everyone involved. Addams family vibes, it’s referred to as ‘making it home’, just personal hc. He is protective of all the kids playing in the parks and street girls that can totally take care of themselves on their corners but find it HILARIOUS when he just tackles a dick like a wild animal full force no warning. He can fix anything it seems, but refuses to work with weapons. Reasonable enough, people get twitchy about gangs sometimes. Danny mentions being not against Hood or anything, but he’s not going to work for him, littles to take care of and all, but had past experience with ‘Dora and that inheritance mess with her brother he was being a real prick about’ so everyone assumes it’s the equivilant of him having Done His Time and being plenty good for a life time and respects it as long as none of that petty midwestern small town hotshots bring any of that shit over here. And they don’t, because said individuals are on the other side of the mortal veil, so happy day.
See I really love deaged!Dan because he’s just a grumpy lil guy. But he’s also killed millions. He’s so protective of his loved ones, but held back by blending in and also being Smol that it comes off more bitey kitten than anything else. Dani, of course, is a terror, so she fits right in with the crowd.
And sorry gang, but a bunch of kids on their own in Gotham in a poor side of the city just isn’t going to get any attention: that’s just business as usual really. What first gets attention on Danny is not his ‘condition’ or being mistaken for a meta (which he legally probs has an argument for even without the gene bc like these bitches don’t know how metaism works anyway so) or alien (I’m 90% sure he’d be covered by the alien protection act by virtue of being half ‘not from earth’), but because Danny despite best efforts is a Weird Guy.
He grew up in what could only be described as a low level villain level and spent most of high school dealing with smack downs and spiritual invasion. He’s never really processed that any of that is not in fact Normal. Also, he’s capable of making Anything if given the insides of a toaster, blender and alarm clock, and could probably rewrite the circuits of the apartment blindfolded and improve them 1000% even if it ABSOLUTELY would not be up to code.
And sure, things slip every once in a while, bits of spectral ice here, small floating incident there, but everyone just Minds Their Buisness ya know? You really gunna mess with the guy that personally ensured that when your car got flattened by a fight with Killer Croc, you were still able to get in to work the next day by some wizardry? Really?
But Gotham is a city so cursed it’s probably in the exponents countwise, so of course there is a) a flourishing community of magic users and assorted supernatural weirdos and b) a whole lot of shit for Mega Overpowered Ghost King Danny to idly pick at day to day in order to help with his protecting other Obsession. Gotham has plenty of heroes, but by god do they need the spiritual equivilant of an electrician/priest.
Still, Danny, as a baby ancient under a facet of Kronos and KING OF THE DEAD is like, way, way out of their scope to be able to grok, so it mostly just comes off as you know, a family of banshees or something. When asked, Danny very haltingly says he was briefly dead but then revived, which neatly explains his Weird Ass aura and makes it SPECTACULARLY AWKWARD to ask further about. So everyone nods politely, and goes back to their lives after double checking no nefarious bullshit was being pulled.
Then, of course, Vlad finally tracks them down. The whole neighborhood is altered in short order because he doesn’t bother trying to hide being a Rich Bitch or how he’s sneering down his nose at people on the sidewalk. Every connects the dots when Danny paniks. Dani and Dan’s daycare are staffed with some extra, very buff set of hands within the hour. Jerry, Hood’s third in command, personally shows up to the garage Danny is working at to talk things out with him bc he knows he does t like the deal with this stuff due to past unspecified circumstances but well, they guys had already started fucking with him, you see. Stole his tires, spray painted the windows, pickpocketed him blind, and when he retreated tipped off the police to the drugs they’d planted in the glove box.
Danny might not have been born in Gotham, but he was one of them. And the Alley takes care of it own.
#basically I want a fic where it’s not the Batfam but Gotham itself latching onto Danny#also more angy lil baby man Dan in big puffy coats being protective#dp x dc#dc x dp#gotham
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I think what's so interesting about Gideon as a narrator at the anniversary dinner is the fact that there's clearly tensions that she's just not picking up on because she's only there to eat a dessert.
But these people are all the immensely powerful leaders of the Houses and consider themselves to be in competition for literal godlike powers and the favour of the emperor.
There's so many little snippets that are potentially intriguing: why is Teacher trying to prime the Ninth to consider the Fifth a threat? Why are the Third and the Sixth "sizing each other up like prizefighters"? The Fifth absolutely knew what they were doing when they sat the teen heads of the opposing cults near each other.
Through Gideon's lens, Magnus' speech is a little awkward jokey thing. But...the seneschal of the House that is known to be actively trying to absorb another House is saying it's such a shame they're all so remote from each other and what do they all have in common (and it's so quiet you "could have heard a hair flutter to the floor") - that had to feel a bit different to people who aren't Gideon.
Palamedes' is dissecting the meaning of "Master Warden" and at one point compares it to a prison warden. 'Dulcinea' asking about whether Magnus and Abigail have children is perhaps less small talk and rather more pointedly political. Harrow's apparently stilted conversation with Protesilaus is clearly her actually probing his limitations like he's a bad Chat GPT-run chatbot.
And then 'Dulcinea' tells Gideon she liked the dinner because it was "useful". In her typical "I never lied to you" way, Cyth wasn't lying when she said Abigail had to die because of her hobby - Abigail Pent let loose on the Facility would have risked blowing Cyth's cover sky high. But what does a Canaan House look like where after the dinner party, the Fifth go down to the facility, get a key, and survive to continue their 'the Houses are going to get along or else' agenda? We've seen Fifth House soft power on a smaller scale in HTN: and it looks like inviting a teenager round for coffee, lulling her into a false sense of security with small talk, and then physically preventing her from leaving the room until she does what you want, while smiling the entire time. A series of little coffee chats could probably have led to a lot of cooperation in Canaan House, one way or another.
Gideon jokes about Silas marrying Ianthe because of their similar colour pallete, but it does raise the fact that there seems to be some tension around the Third, its succession, and the *point* of Ianthe. Why is Silas openly saying Ianthe should have died at birth? Combined with Judith's comments in the Cohort Intelligence Files about succession on the Third, it feels like there's something else being said here that Gideon isn't picking up on.
And of course, Harrow wasn't the only one desperate to become a Lyctor because her con was unsustainable. Presumably at some point Corona and Ianthe would be expected to marry, or at least take on more separate roles as Corona prepared to take over the throne and Ianthe was funneled off elsewhere. At some point, their package deal would have become unsustainable and Corona's cover would have been blown. But much as Harrow wants to become a Lyctor so she can reveal the state of the Ninth without repercussions, Ianthe is probably in part motivated to become a Lyctor for the same reason. Because otherwise, what would Ianthe's expected role have been? Amidst the suggestion of anxiety about the Idan succession, the dinner party also presents the fact that the reason Abigail and Magnus' infertility isn't a succession crisis for the ruling family of the Fifth is that Abigail's younger brother dutifully married in his early 20s and had kids. We know there are branch families in Ida - Babs is from one. He may be a prince, but he's not treated well, and you do get the sense that the stakes to stay in power in Ida are high.
We don't learn anything about the political situation in the Houses themselves during HTN or NTN, but in the wake of Canaan House, you have to suspect there are a number of tensions and concerns.
#the locked tomb#tlt meta#Is Ianthe's “going to see a man about a queen” seeing to the political situation back home in Ida?#Which must have been devastated by her ascension and Corona's apparent death?
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"DO BETTER!" Says Now Televised Fanboy
He, Dash Baxter is a Phan-Stan!! It's kinda his thing. See, he's a fancy ass talk show host now. Married Paulie, moved out of Amity, actually DID something with his life. His parents? Did not approve. Long n short of it? He got kicked out.
Paulie's parents were PISSED.
Retaliated by giving him all the help he needed getting EVERY scholarship he qualified for. He went to a really nice college. Missed his girlfriend like mad. But she was off in Metropolis, terrifying weaker men. Conquering the fashion scene.
And SOMEHOW? Thanks to that long talk he had with Phantom (*incoherent fanboy gibbering noises* SO COOL!) he's worked to be... more of a LEADER, you know? Less of an asshole. Cause he's popular. People copy him. He can't be an asshole.
So, somehow, when he's punching out some try-hard that thinks he's hot shit for bullying a Nerd? He and the nerd get talking, right? Cause the guy got his glasses completely fucked up. And it's what Phantom would do.
But GET THIS? Guy's never HEARD of Phantom! Is super curious, cause he runs a small time Hero's show on the web. And, Dude? Is it your LUCKY DAY! Cause you just met THE number 1 fan of Phantom, hands down!! He makes his VERY spirited case, about why Phantom is THE best Hero to ever have lived. And this guy?
Entranced.
In AWE.
Just straight up BEGS him to join his show. Cause apparently? He was BORN for it. Which? Yeah. He HAS been giving speechs to the team for YEARS now. And Talking at fan meet ups. Leading fan meet ups. Hosting parties... actually, now that he thinks about it? He DOES do a lot of public speaking? Huh.
But still, he's about to say "no", when?
Dude mentions? He'll get to talk about Phantom.
SOLD!
It. Blows. Up. Absolutely EVERYONE is in love with his pretty face, hot bod, and STRONG opinions. But they ALSO have no idea who Phantom is! Paulie! This is CRIMINAL! Horrifying! What is going ON!?
Some bullshit information black out, apparently. At least according to her... friendly Nemesis? The Goth Dweeb. Who's engaged, apparently? So good for her. Unsurprisingly, it's too the OTHER Dweebs, but still. Bout time she started planning to drag them to a court house. She's the only one with any spine in that group! If she waited for THEM to propose?
Not even as Ghosts, man.
They'd get distracted by shiny nerd shit and whimp out.
Still... a world where NO ONE knows how Awesome, Phantom is? Not on HIS watch!
So he works it in. To every segment. It becomes "his thing". Oh? Super man saved a kitten from a tree? Cute. Well PHANTOM saved a bus full of Ghost Puppies from a shady, rouge, Goverment agency. Do BETTER, Superman!
The Flash, who is a cheap knock-off and stole his name, took down an Ice Villian? Adorable! PHANTOM stopped a Rouge WINTER SPIRIT with the help of YETI WARRIORS then assisted in giving FREE medical care for anyone who needed it! Here's a picture of him making GHOST ICE SNOWMEN for small children! Do BETTER, Knock-off!
What's THAT you say? Wonder Woman fought a GOD in down town paris?
Excellent work Wonder Woman. Flawless as always. But YOU, god-boy, are a disappointment! All that power! And WHAT do you use it for? Are you even supposed to BE here?? PHANTOM uses his power to HELP people! Is awesome and knows TONS of better gods! You're just salty you didn't make the cut!
DO BETTER!
And obviously? No one believes him. There's no record of this "Phantom" guy. The pictures look fantastical and vaguely glitchy/glowy. Not quite right. They GOTTA be photo shopped. Manipulated somehow. But? As a shtick? A fake "perfect Superhero" is kinda funny and unique.
And it's one hell of Fake Hero!
A Dead Champion? Who fights gods and monsters? Rouge agencies? Sassy and tragic? With a mysterious past? Pretty cool! There's even an Offical Comic from some guy that went to the same high-school as Baxter!
Of course, as Baxter get more and more popular? The "meme" hero, Phantom, get more well known? People get more interested in where Dash grew up. You know, just a bored Google. Maybe see if the hero was based off a local legend or something. But... huh...
The Town website?
Weirdly? Sanitized.
Like... like aggressively sanitized. All smooth edges and no details. Very "move along, citizen". Ha ha... it's part of the joke right? They get it! They'll just look up local restaurants or som-....
Wait...
Hey, guuuuys?
Are you finding ANYTHING?
And! Nothing. And I do mean NOTHING! Triggers the "oh? Secrets???" Instincts of a Hacker, like finding a hard blank wall of "KEEP OUT". Especially when it's somewhere it rightfully shouldn't BE.
All it would take? Is ONE person, of decent skills and an account on Certain Forums, getting bored enough to Google the Dude On The TV(TM)? For the GIW's lil walls to come crashing down. Because yeah, you can stop ONE hacker. Even two. Probably five or six.
But how about thousands?
Hundreds of thousands?
From every time zone. Competing. Just to see what you HAVE and don't want them to see. Maybe they do something with it, maybe they don't. But fuck it, you're being RUDE and now they're CURIOUS. And THEN? Oh. Oh holy shit.
Not a meme.
Very real.
Not a joke.
The walls come crumbling down, down, down. Ripped apart by hundreds of hands. Emails sent to every sort of agency. The JLU line inundated with emergency tips. Not a joke. Not A Joke. Holy Shit, IT WASN'T A JOKE!
Phantom is REAL!
And there, on TV, stands the Man. The signal FINALLY breaching containment. Fighting off the invading God of the week. Built like statue, hair like an aurora borealis of white fire held almost delicately in place by a CROWN of ice, a suit made of void and starlight. Inhuman. Beyond human.
Here to help.
A laugh that crackles like ice and the snap of winter, rolls through the air like coming storms, rich and somehow warm. A smile that bares teeth, yet turns so KIND when he looks upon humanity, as though we are precious and worth fighting for. A living star.
A... a once living star.
And in the center of it all? Wearing his BESPOKE, custome made, Number 1 Phan full body outfit? That's right. Dash Baxter. Ha! You fuckers doubted him! Behold his blorbo and WEEP, ya fuckin casuals! The BESTEST of boys! The FINEST of Heros! Superman? Could NEVER.
And now? The weather!
@babbling-babull @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation
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you come home after a girl’s night out to find charles lying on your bed, arms resting behind his head as he watches an action movie in your room.
“what are you doing here?” you ask, amused.
you leave your heels by the foot of the bed, walking to your vanity to take your necklace and earrings off.
charles smiles at you through the mirror. “waiting for you.” he says it so casually, so genuine, like he does not have somewhere to be, at the other side of the world, early in the morning.
“i missed you,” you feel shy admitting it, you saw him just a couple of hours ago, before leaving for the club with your friends. it’s not like you can’t live without him or max, but they have so little free time that all you want to do when they’re home is cuddle together and never leave your home. but your friends begged you to go with them and as much as you wanted to stay with your boyfriends, you also wanted to see your girl friends. “they played that song you like so much. it made me missed you even more.”
charles coos at you, forgetting the movie to, instead, make grabby hands. it makes you giggle but you are immediately sprinting to the bed, climbing carefully onto his lap.
“and what about you?” you play with the collar of his shirt, looking at your boyfriend from beneath your eyelashes. “did you miss me?”
“we missed you very much.” max enters the room making you smile even brighter. he walks to the side of the bed where both of you are and places a cup of tea on your nightstand. you pout at him and he leans to give you a little peck on the lips. “did you have fun? how much did you drink?” there’s genuine concern in his voice that leaves you flustered, feeling small and taken care of.
“oh, just two gin and tonic’s, and i’m definitely sober if that is what you’re asking.” max nods, smile on his face as he retrieves a make-up remover from your vanity. “and it was such a fun night!” you clap your hands, ranting about how one of your friends kept flirting with the bartender even when he said he was gay and definitely not interested.
“and what about you?” charles asks, playing with a strand of your hair. “did someone try to make a move with you?”
“as if someone would dare to try something.” that earns you a disapproving glare from your blonde-haired boyfriend. “everyone in monaco knows who i belong to.” you touch the tip of max’s nose with the pad of your finger. “only you two.”
max climbs on the bed next to charles, and the latter wraps his free arm, the one not on your waist, around max shoulders, hugging him tightly against his side.
you let max wipe the make-up off your face as they listen to you describe everything that happened that night, even the moment a group of girls approached you to say how jealous they were that you are dating two of the most hot and talented (you added that, they didn’t actually say it but you like to point it out every time you can) drivers on the grid.
“i like to know i make girls jealous.” you say without an ounce of regret, looking between your boyfriends. why would you feel ashamed, right? “and i like to know i’m the only one to have you both.”
#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#lestappen x reader#charles leclerc x reader#max verstappen x reader#f1 x reader#f1 grid x reader#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc imagine#max verstappen fluff#f1 fanfic#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x charles leclerc#f1 imagine#lestappen x you#poly!f1#poly!relationship
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wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1
genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...
word count: 3.6k
It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this
auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!
nsfw warnings under the cut!
18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie
It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day.
To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.
The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—
“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.
His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”
“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.
You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes.
“What about Max?”
Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”
“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.
“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”
“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”
—
The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.
Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.
His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.
OK, nice. Did u need something?
No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?
Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.
I thought we agreed no contact unless business
He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.
Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.
Yeah. Got a drink.
I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.
How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.
Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit
Yeah? I missed you today.
Really?
A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.
He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?
You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading.
So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.
The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.
And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.
It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.
I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.
He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.
So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.
He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.
In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.
He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.
The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.
He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.
You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.
Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.
His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”
One week later
“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”
The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.
You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka.
Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.
“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”
You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”
“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”
“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”
“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”
“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.
“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”
“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”
He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”
“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.
“Wanna test that out? Come play.”
Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.
“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.
“You got it wrong. Teaching.”
He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.
If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.
You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?
You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.
Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.
“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh.
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.
You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—
“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.
“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.
“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.
“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.
“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.
“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward.
“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.
“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.
“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”
“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.
“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.
It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed.
He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.
“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”
“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.
“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control.
“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”
“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time.
“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”
His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.
“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.”
Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.
“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.
“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.”
You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.
#f1#max verstappen#max verstappen smut#max verstappen imagines#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen x reader#f1 x reader
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