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ghoulphile · 7 months ago

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janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | part 01

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 3.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | i'm so sorry this is later than it should be. i am unfortunately a corporate slave and this fic just did not want to cooperate 🫠 there are a lot more things planned and this fic is turning into a bit of a beast (20+ pages and counting rip lmao) so i've decided to split it into two parts to make it more manageable for myself mostly un-beta'd atm a special thanks to @corinthianism for all her lovely help ❤️!!

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

One of the ugliest things in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say. At least when he was a Marine, they told him where to point his gun, where to aim; nameless threats vanishing with a quick squeeze of the trigger.

Here, these ‘enemies’ aren’t enemies — not really.

It’d be easier if they were.

Worse still, they have names he holds as dearly as his own. There’s Barb, whip smart and always so clever. Then Janey, the light of his life and so sweet his teeth ache.

Once upon a time, life was sweeter than apple pie on Sundays.

Then came the separation.

Afterwards, he finds it hard to look at what’s left of his family without losing breath like a horse kick to the chest. Their absence rips open a hole inside him ten miles wide, its edges jagged and wrong.

And when he can’t take the silence anymore, fingers of malt liquor help dull the ache, though it’ll never be enough to mend what’s broken.

See, war’s something he understands.

But these domestic battlefields where he sits across from his ex-wife while lawyers barter this weekend and that holiday?

How he struggles to meet his daughter’s eye every time she asks if he’s coming home?

When Barb keeps the house and the money while he keeps the scrapbooks and the dog?

He doesn’t — can't — refuses to comprehend.

Because in what world can you reconcile looking down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman you love staring back, finger on the trigger? Left out to hang as Vault-Tec orchestrates his downfall.

The true depth of their involvement is unknown, but it’s no coincidence his bank accounts dried up faster than the Mojave in June. The ink still wet when the media snapped up the story of his failed marriage.

Thus, his reputation (rather what’s left of it) unraveled faster than a spool of thread.

Knocked on his ass and kept there by a boot heel crushing his windpipe. Whose? He hasn’t got a fucking clue.

But whoever they are, they’re making sure he stays a washed up nobody who struggles to land a call back, much less pay his monthly alimony on time.

See what we can do? You were America’s favorite gunslinger - now look at you. Mind your place.

Hell, millions used to scream his name.

Nowadays people whisper it behind their hands like a dirty secret, “Oh, did you hear? Cooper Howard…” as they dissect pieces of his life into bite-sized Before’s and After’s. “Hah! Serves him right. Y’know, I never liked him much.”

While he grits his teeth and swallows his bitterness with a smile, he hates how he can’t protect Janey from snide reporters and nosy strangers. Juggling actor-father-divorcé with fumbling hands.

It’s only been six months; a heartbeat, a lifetime, and already he’s scraped thin like butter over too much bread.

Something’s gotta give.

After all, he’s only one man.

But just when it's bleakest, the clouds part.

A young woman moves in next door, the first bright thing that’s come his way in a long, long while.

At first, he kept his distance.

Exchanged vague hello’s and how-are-you’s. Then Janey took a shine; always so friendly and eager to talk about her latest books.

Any reservations he might’ve had died when he saw how enamored you are with her.

Only made sense that over time small pleasantries turned into playdates. Then those playdates turned into sleepovers.

Before long, you’re watching her when a gig runs late.

Rustling up grub and tucking her into bed more often than not these days. And when he slinks in through the door, knees aching and stripped to the bone, there you are with a shy smile and a warm meal.

So what if he takes himself in hand after you leave, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress?

Imagines the wide stretch of your ruby lips as you swallow him down, lipstick smeared an awful mess?

Cums hard to the fantasy of your teary eyes and hiccupy breaths as you choke?

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

After all, he’s a gentleman... he promises to keep his hands to himself.

“All right, Sugar Bomb, it’s bedtime.”

Bundled in navy bedding up to her nose, Janey’s wide brown eyes peer up at you from beneath a riot of frizzy curls. Roosevelt, her ever faithful companion, plasters himself to her side. The tip of his tail swishes once, twice before falling limp.

“Ah, c’mon guys. Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh with a fond shake of the head, hip popping out to rest against the doorframe. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow ‘em.”

A muffled response sounds from the lump of little girl, “Nmfhm.”

Squinting, you dip your head and tap the side of your ear, "Pardon?"

“Mnhfmmmm.”

“Ye—eah… Didn’t catch that, Mumbler.”

Janey tugs down the blanket, her mouth pursed in a moue of displeasure. “I said,” she crosses her arms with a huff, “not until Dad gets home.”

Shit.

“M’sorry, baby. He’s still gonna be a while.” Walking across the room, you stop beside the bed and motion your hand back and forth. “Scooch over.”

Gangly limbs fumble as Janey wiggles into the middle of the mattress, her feet tangling in the blankets. Roosevelt takes a toe to the nose during the transition, but flops across her knees all the same.

Together they settle with a bounce of springs.

In the open space, you slide in.

The bed sinks under your weight, a plume of rich cologne tickling your nose; mint-spiced citrus. Cooper. Your stomach swoops, and your heart trips.

“I didn’t see him at breakfast — or lunch!” A pout tugs at her mouth. “Not even dinner. I gotta go home tomorrow. So when am I gonna see him?”

“Oh, bug.” You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Your dad’s been real busy at work. And I know that’s been hard for you, but I promise to make sure he’s here for breakfast tomorrow.”

“D’you mean it?” Her cold nose digs into your skin. “Me and Roosevelt miss him so much.”

Cuddled into your chest, Janey tosses an arm around your back. Her fuzzy head rests in the crook of your arm, springy curls tickling your skin.

You squeeze her tight and trace your fingertips over her forehead.

“I can do you one better,” you say, bopping the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle - a soft sound that sits warm and gooey in your chest. “I pinkie-promise.”

Her finger loops around yours, so small and fragile.

“I’ll even make pancakes. How’s that sound for a promise?”

“Oh, yes, please! I think Dad will like that,” a wide yawn cuts her off mid-sentence. “He’s sad, but he always smiles when you make food.”

Janey’s words — unexpected as they are sudden — cut so deep it steals the breath from your lungs. You flounder, your heart a throbbing bruise in your chest.

“... Then pancakes it is.”

As if nothing happened at all, she asks, “Do I have to go to bed now?”

“Afraid so, little miss.” Your responding chuckle sounds stilted even to your own ears. “Just you wait. When you wake up, Dad’ll be home.”

“Fi—ine, but I want extra pancakes.” Janey pauses, considers you with narrow eyes, then adds, “With syrup!”

“Whatever you want,” you say with an indulgent smile. “Now... time to sleep. It’s really past your bedtime.”

She gives you one last squeeze then lets you tuck her in nice and tight, blankets pulled up to her chin. You drop a kiss on her forehead while Roosevelt re-settles on the pillow beside her after a quick scratch behind the ears.

Everything in order, you turn to go only for a little hand to stop you.

“Yes?” you reply, glancing at her from over your shoulder.

“... can you put on one of Dad's movies?”

The tremble in her voice - like she’s about to get scolded - breaks your heart clean down the middle. Stitching on a soft smile, you nod and walk to the darkened TV set in the room's corner.

After fiddling with the nobs, static flashes to life.

“The Man from Deadhorse okay?”

The holotape sliding into the track swallows the sound of her tiny “Yeah.” Starting up with a whirl of machinery, the second-hand Radiation King flickers to life in black-and-white.

A vast plain and bright sky stretches across the screen.

Then Sugarfoot creeps into frame with the one and only Cooper Howard sitting astride the noble steed. The sheriff’s badge on his chest glints in the sun.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, already half-way to sleep.

“Anything for you, baby. Sleep tight.”

Flicking off the lights, you leave the door cracked. Walk away pretending like hearing her whisper goodnight to the TV doesn’t lance through you like lightning.

The desire to whisk her into your arms and soothe all of her ails is almost impossible to ignore.

Somehow, you distract yourself by wiping up the table, then by fixing a plate of dinner for whenever Cooper rolls in. Though all the while, how brokenhearted Janey sounded sits in the back of your mind like a leaden weight.

When Cooper stumbles into the living room, it’s half past midnight.

You’d gotten up to greet him, curled as you were in an armchair reading, when something about the stern line of his mouth gave you pause.

Where the usual lighthearted greetings lingered, a pensive stillness trembled to life.

Tension crackles through the air; a held breath of agitation. By the faraway gaze and defeated slump of his broad shoulders, it’s plain to see the night didn’t go as intended. And no matter how much you long to soothe, you can’t.

After all, he’s not yours to touch.

Instead, you offer a sympathetic smile and ask, “Rough night, huh?”

Cooper ignores the prompt, squeezing past with a brief touch to your elbow as he makes a beeline for the dry bar. The heat of his body is there and gone in a flash, his cologne teasing your senses. He says, “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your heart flutters in your throat. “Ah,” you lick your lips, “well, I was going to finish my chapter first.”

Humming, he turns his back to you and fiddles with high balls and decanters. The tink of crystal glassware fills the air as he speculates which alcohol goes best with his mood.

“Thanks again for watching Janey.” He nods in approval and fixes his whiskey neat. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Mr. Howard.” You shrug. “She’s a sweetheart.”

He shoots you a dry look from over his shoulder, stirring the dark amber of his drink with a forefinger. When he sucks his skin clean with a soft pop - a flash of a pink tongue taunting, teasing - your stomach swoops.

God, I wonder what else his mouth can do.

Flustered, you clear your throat and stare at a spot on the wall.

“How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Coop?” he says, digging through some drawers until he finds what he’s searching for: a lighter. “It must be a million and one by now.”

Flint sparks as flames jump, eating away at the end of a cigarette. Cooper inhales in short little puffs, pulling on the filter. His cheeks hollow, the shadows enhancing the cut of his jaw before the tip catches alight.

“Well,” he exhales, his gaze catching yours through a plume of smoke as he turns, brow raised. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you chuckle.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smirk. “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks back the last finger of whiskey before refilling with gin.

Springs groan in protest when he drops to the couch, settling in with an outstretched arm and wide spread thighs.

“It’s been a long fucking day,” he rasps.

Gulping, you try to ignore the space at his feet.

The stirrings of desire provoked by the urge to sink to your knees and fill it with your body, to ease tension from those shoulders with your hands, your mouth, your cunt — if he’d let you.

“You heading home?” Nursing the fresh drink, he swallows a mouthful, only to hiss low through his teeth at the chemical burn. His throat bobs, framed by the open collar of his shirt. “Whew! Goddamn, that’s strong.”

“No, I can stay for a while.” A bird on a wire, you perch on the cushion beside him. “Got nothing else planned for tonight, anyhow.”

Cooper snorts. “I doubt that very much. A sweet young thing like you,” he motions towards you with his glass, “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fellas calling, especially on a Friday night. Don’t waste your time with me.”

“That’s not why I--” you stop yourself short.

Save for the bustling LA avenue right outside the complex, the apartment itself is stone silent for several heartbeats. Words hover on the back of your tongue, catching in the bend of your throat molasses thick.

Meanwhile, Cooper continues to swirl the alcohol in his glass.

Maybe in a different life, you wouldn’t hesitate to express yourself.

But here — with him — you shouldn’t.

Christ sake, he’s a grieving divorcé, you chastise yourself. The last thing he needs is me trying to lay one on him.

When you speak, his name glides off your lips for the first time, clementine sweet, “... Cooper, I’m not wasting my time. I enjoy spending it with Janey - and you.”

“Well,” he husks, hooded eyes dragging down your visage in a slow once-over, “you’re the first one in a long while to feel that way, sweetheart.”

Dripping like honey whiskey from Cooper’s lips, the simple phrase burns its way down-down-down until it blooms like liquid fire in your belly. Warms you all the way to your toes as your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“I mean it.” Your knuckles twist in the pleats of your sundress, bolts of blue fabric bunched around your knees. “Everything I do is because I want to.”

The flash of red nails plucking at the sheer nylon of your stockings snaps up his attention, his gaze snagging - staying as he chases the curve of your exposed leg, hungry.

He wets his lips, and tenses his jaw when he spots how the soft fat of your thigh dimples in because of your garter. “That’s awful sweet of you to say.”

You tremble beneath the intensity of his attention.

Greedy.

Little kisses of awareness spark bright along the path his eyes carve like the caress of shy fingertips.

However, before you’re able to confront him about his interest, the heat leaches from his expression, grows mute and cold like a muzzled dog.

Readjusting the waistband of his slacks with a tug, he says, “I know you got better things to do than keep an old man company.”

Irritation sparks. “Cooper--”

“If this is about paying you for tonight,” his lips quirk into a sheepish smile, “I won’t be able to yet.” He scrubs a hand through the stubble peppered along his jaw. “The gig tonight didn’t… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, that’s not what I --”

He plows on, “Anyway, the one I’ve got tomorrow should be enough. How about I stop by around seven o’clock? I’ll treat you to dinner as an apology.”

Frustration bubbles beneath the surface of your skin, antagonism thrumming through your veins. Your hands shake almost as much as your voice. “Cooper!”

“I… uh, yes?” He blinks.

Your brows furrow. “You don’t get it,” you say. “I mean, you truly don’t know?”

“I’m afraid there’s a lot I don’t get. You’re gonna have to be more particular.”

Maybe not said in so many words (or at all) but actions speak far louder.

Otherwise, why else would you spend most of your time in his apartment, fill every spare moment with Janey, and reserve evenings for his company?

Hell, you even cook and clean!

Almost scream your interest from the rooftops, and it’s obvious to everyone but him, it seems.

Here you are thinking he was preserving your dignity whenever he ignored a passing comment or lingering touch when, in fact, he’d been oblivious to their existence to begin with.

How a man can be so obtuse when you’re throwing yourself at him is beyond you.

If he wasn’t so captivating…

“Are you kidding me,” you ask, mindful of your tone, “how could you not know?” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been — for months!”

“Well, I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he snarks, setting his glass on the table. “Care to enlighten me?”

Fine. If that’s how he wants to play, let’s play.

When he moves to take another drag from his cigarette, you strike, fingers locking around his wrist mid-lift. And although his glassy eyes narrow, he keeps his hand still.

Waiting to see what you'll do.

Tucking your knee under you for balance, you bend forward and watch his face from beneath your lashes. When your lips wrap around the filter, a dark hunger bleeds into his expression, his pulse a steady thud against the pad of your thumb.

Inhaling, the cherry lights up, a flashbang in the dim overhead light.

Cooper’s breath hitches, and then you’re pulling away with a lungful of smoke; the taste of ash heavy on your tongue.

He tracks your movements with greed, gaze flicking for the briefest of moments past your chin before refocusing on the ring of red lipstick staining white paper.

“If you wanted one,” he chokes, gripping the back of the couch with white knuckles, “all you had to do was ask.”

With a coquettish grin, you exhale to the side and stare at him with hooded eyes. “Is that so?” Plucking the cigarette out of his limp hold, you stub it out in the ashtray. “What if I wanted to ask for something else, Mr. Howard?”

The next moment finds you deposited in his lap, his hands shooting out to grab at your waist only to freeze before they make contact.

“Woah! I--”

“Tell me something.”

Your lips caress the shell of his ear, sharing breath - sharing space as you plaster yourself to his front, arms looped over his shoulders. He jolts, body trembling with restraint.

“Would you give me what I wanted if I said please?”

The distance between you snaps taut with anticipation. “C-Coop,” he stutters. “Call me Coop.”

You hum. “Well, Coop, would you?”

“That depends almost entirely on what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

Red nails skate along the back of his neck, play in the downy soft hair of his nape just to feel him shiver. And then you’re leaning back with your hands braced on his knees, your legs falling open in invitation.

The hem of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the soft cotton of your underwear, and the darkened patch of slick soaking through.

“I think you know exactly what I want,” you purr. “Because you want it too. Don’t you?”

He bites down on a strangled moan when your hips arch forward, rocking the soft plush of your ass against the heavy weight of his thickening cock. The zipper digs into your skin as he tents the front of his slacks.

Mouth dropping open, his tongue flicks out to wet his lips - a slick circle of temptation that makes you clench. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Reaching between your splayed thighs, you hook a finger beneath your panties and pull the fabric aside. He jerks forward, exhaling hard at the flash of your soaked cunt and twitching clit.

“C’mon, be honest.”

With a sigh, you gather your arousal on the tips of your fingers.

Cooper’s gaze is a heavy weight pinning you in place as you pretend it’s him dragging his knuckles over the top of your mond. Him dragging calloused fingers up along sticky folds to play with your sensitive clit, ripping soft little mewls from your lips.

“Can’t you see what you do to me, Coop?” you say, pulling your hand away to show the webs of slick stretching between your fingers. “I’m so wet. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

His hips rock against your ass in an aborted thrust. “Shit - shit!” Eyes slamming shut, he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into your sides hard enough to bruise. “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

“Why not?” Your hand brushes over his groin. “I can feel how hard you are.”

“It isn’t right, that’s why.” He stutters, stumbles over his words, “Besides, Janey…”

“I can be quiet,” you say, lips trembling. “I promise.”

“Goddamnit, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to --” Cutting himself off, strong fingers seize your chin and tilt until you’re met with Cooper’s severe expression, his scorching gaze. “You need to tell me now: are you sure this is what you want?”

There’s no hesitation, “Yes.”

In what world would you refuse?

The words barely pass your lips before Cooper’s bowing his dark head, mouth ravenous as it captures yours in a slick glide of bruising lips and hungry tongues.

He steals your breath, licks into your mouth and traces along the sensitive inside of your lip.

Pulse jump starting, your toes curl over the edge of the cushion and your thighs squeeze the barrel of his chest, kneecaps digging into his ribs.

“Oh,” a moan punches itself out of your throat - a breathy little thing swallowed up by his lips. “That’s--”

Anticipation swells, simmers between you like a band before it snaps. A strong forearm locks around your waist, tugging you into the cradle of his chest until you’re plastered from stem to stern.

Too hungry for tenderness as his free hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers catching in the briar of your hair and tugging at the roots.

You claw at his shoulders while sparks of pain ricochet down your neck, sufficing into a prickly flush that heats your blood. “Hnn, Cooper,” you gasp.

He murmurs your name through languid flicks of his tongue and sharp little nips of skin that leave your mouth tender and swollen. When he pulls away to survey his handiwork, his eyes are dark. Fathomless.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to kiss you like this," he says, wicking his thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip. "You taste as good as I imagined."

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you plead, “No more teasing - I can't take it.”

"Well," he grunts, fingers twisting up in your dress, “If that’s how you feel, then you better put those hips to good use and work for it, sweetheart."

part 2 dropping soon

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard smut #cooper howard #the ghoul #the ghoul smut

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hermitadaymay · 7 months ago

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WELCOME TO HERMIT-A-DAY MAY 2024!

I'm thrilled to bring this challenge to you all for the second year in a row! Hermit-a-Day May is a challenge inspired by Hermitober, but with a twist: instead of theme prompts, we focus on a specific Hermit every day!

THE RULES: 1. Any type of fanwork is welcome so long as it features, or is otherwise inspired by, the Hermit of the day. 2. Tag #hermitaday to have your fanwork reblogged, or submit it directly to the blog (Please note that while I recognize the value of fanworks involving more mature themes, and they can certainly count toward challenge completion if you're keeping track for yourself, content on this blog will be kept "PG-13" so that all may enjoy.). 3. Fanworks for one Hermit posted after the day rolls over to another Hermit's day (per the US Central time zone) will be reblogged in a big queue in June. 4. I am not interested in seeing captions or tags in which you disparage your art/skills. We're all improving all the time. Be kind to yourselves.

WHY SHOULD I PARTICIPATE? To show love to every Hermit, from the most to least subscribed, from those who have been on the server from day one to those who only joined this season! And because challenges are fun! And because, this year, there's an extra dimension to the event: a fundraiser for Gamers Outreach, featuring art incentives by @rendiggitydog and @belmarzi.

GRAND TOTAL INCENTIVE: For every $150 we raise for Gamers Outreach, belmarzi will make 10 seconds' worth of animatic, featuring as many Hermits as she can fit into the time frame.

INDIVIDUAL DONATION INCENTIVE: For every $50 (formerly $65 - changed 5/3) you personally donate to the fundraiser during the month of May, Rae rendiggitydog will draw you a shaded flats commission of a Hermit of your choice.

WHO’S RUNNING THIS? Hi! My name is Luna! You can use she/her, he/him, ze/hir, or ro/ros/roseself pronouns for me. My main blog is @as-if-unreal. Yep, before you ask, it really is just me, but to be fair I've had a lot of help.

BONUS SUNDAY PROMPTS EXPLAINED UNDER THE CUT

TFC - May 5th While he may no longer be with us physically, TFC left behind him a legacy of quiet care and good humor, and Hermitcraft would not have been the same without him.

FRIENDS OF HERMITCRAFT - May 12th There are plenty of shows, podcasts, competitions, other servers, and more woven into the internet ecosystem around Hermitcraft, and plenty more people involved in them: just as a small number of examples, Season 9's Rift opened up to a whole server of Emperor friends, and there are always allies to be made in MCC and enemies to be made in the Life Series. Today is for celebrating all of those who, while they may not be Hermits themselves, exist and entertain in proximity to them.

FAVORITE "ALT" HERMIT - May 19th HoTGuY and Poultry-Man. Helsknight and Evil Xisuma. Renbob and - look, you get the idea. This server is full of theater kids ready to toss on an alternate skin and play into a brand new character at the drop of a hat. Who's your favorite?

GROUPS AND COLLABS - May 26th This month is all about one Hermit a day... but what we really love is when they interact with each other. What does your favorite duo or group of Hermits get up to together?

#hermitaday #hermitcraft #hermit-a-day may #hermitcraft smp #zedaph #keralis #skizzleman #zombiecleo #impulsesv #grian #hypnotizd #smallishbeans

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emacrow · 7 months ago

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Alfred gains an unique apprentice after his arm got fractured.

Most of the batfam has been causing a ruckus in the Wayne Manor for the past 4 months that even Alfred was feeling a bit worn out.

To the point that his personal favorite market friends suggest getting a trainee, or a ward to help him out epecially because Alfred isn't getting any younger, no matter how well he took care of his own health.

Helda got herself a ward herself, a sweet little girl, name Ellen who help her keep the lil Duckling candles shop in order especially after her hip surgery went through, and will be taking over for her considering helda had no descendents, but Ellen make her feel young again.

Alfred merely delined, but ended up getting the card still by persistented friends. A card with a purple GrandFather clock symbol and a number on it. He left it in his draw as he was not rude enough to throw away.

Then came the prank war 13 on June 15th in the Wayne Manor that Alfred accidentally ended up being targeted by pure coincidence which ended with him with a fractured arm..

Both Bruce and Alfred was majorly disappointed with how far escalated the prank war went that got immediately stop when the batfam saw Alfred gotten injured during it.

Except now Alfred is stuck for 6-10 weeks without using his right arm until his personal doctor said it ok to take the cast off then have a arm sling..

Alfred was immensely stubborn for 3 days, 3 days of trying to do all his duties.. before he gave in..

And called the number on the card, and received a lovely blue letter with a couple of oddly specific paperwork on a type of help he need, what is your age, your job occupied, have any illness or arthritis, needs in case of meta or superpower sudden surprises appear, how dangerous is your and your family lifestyle, etc

By the time he finished the paperwork and hand it sent back in the return blue letter. It was by day 5 on a Friday when he received a letter back, stating that that a ward been selected and will be coming from Amity Park to help him.

Alfred was expected a teenager, but a 7 year old boy with blaring light blue eyes, starlight like freckles, black hair with a medium space designed suitcase and a very old and worn out bearbert plush on top of it.

"Good morning, You must be Mr. Pennyworth, and I'm Danny." Danny beamed a soft smile with the eyes of wisdom and understanding. Alfred pause for a mere second before a soft smile bloomed and open the door wide for him.

"Hello there Danny, do come in. Alfred said softly as he watch danny a bit with curiosity.

Would you like a snack before we start the day?" Alfred ask as he escorted danny to the kitchen to help him with today breakfast along with a list of the breakfast dishes with ingredients.

"That ok, what would you like to help you do, cut the vegetables, stir the pot, help lift the food into the oven, or clean the dishes, because you aren't going to try and do that all with a broken arm, right?" Danny said as he look at today breakfast list, going to the sink and cleaning his hand thoroughly first before touching any fresh ingredients already put out while Alfred pick the frying pans, cups, dishes and utensils for the batfam.

Alfred notice right away that danny was floating a bit to pick the heavy large pot full of marinated food from the fridge that was supposed to be on the stove for slow brothing for later today dinner, considering alfred couldn't well take it out himself since his arm was broken..

Smiling softly to himself that it was a good idea to have a ward of his own as he teaches danny the best techniques to make a Benedict.

New post here

#dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp prompt #danny is the ghost king #dcxdp #de aged danny #alfred pennyworth #Alfred get an apprentice #bruce developed the adoption gene by Alfred influence #elle phantom work for Helda in gotham #danny is well prepared for EVERYTHING #Jazz give danny BearBert for comfort since this is technically his first job out of Ghost duty

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wherethatoldtraingoes2 · 1 month ago

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alright i’m gonna be blunt because i’m tired of trying to justify why palestinians deserve your attention. @zinaanqar and her family need your help. i’m not trying to pull a “you’re a terrible person for not reblogging” or anything but i’m so sick and tired of seeing people ignoring palestinian’s posts or claiming everyone from anywhere that isn’t a western country is a scammer.

dina and her family were forced to move south as their home was torn apart. it was recently her son, yamen’s, fourth birthday. no child deserves to celebrate birthdays in a world full of bombs and death and injury.

almost every palestinian is sick, starving, or both. the winters are growing colder. even in my own house, with air and heat and plenty of blankets, i get cold during forty degree weather.

please help a family in need.

#free palestine #gaza #gaza genocide #gaza strip #fundraiser #gofundme #go fund me #donate #donations #vetted

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motorsportbarbie13 · 7 days ago

Text

The Yapping Hour Is Upon Us - Part 3

In which you and Max spend the next six months just being obsessed with each other.

Warnings: A little angst, but not 'break up with you' angst, just 'i really fucking miss you' angst so it's okay. And fluff. Tooth achingly sweet fluff. Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 4.4k plus a shit ton of social media posts. - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 2 - Master List

(a/n before we begin: Probably one more part to this. Thinking of doing an 'after Max gets you back to the hotel post-race' part to wrap things up nicely if anyone wants to see that.)

Monaco May 2024

F1GossipOfficial posted

34,028 likes F1GossipOfficial Seems as if our favorite Red Bull driver and sunny little podcaster are getting closer! The pair was spotted around Monaco this week ahead of the Monaco Grand Prix. The pair have been seen publicly a handful of times since Max made an appearance on her podcast The Yapping Hour in late April, most notably at the Miami Grand Prix at the beginning of the month and then the week later in New York City where she is based. Everyone who sent in photos said the pair were super cozy and seemed lost in their own world. user0299 she's only with him for the clout and money. Her little podcast was dying out and she latched onto Max like a leech. >>>user5572 go touch some grass my man. Her podcast is consistently the number 1 listened to show on all platforms all the fucking time. user9938 they are so cute, i can't handle it user4530 I saw them at dinner the other night and oh my GOD. They sat on the same side of the table even though it was just the two of them. He held her hand underneath the table all through dinner and I don't think either of them stopped smiling or looked anywhere else but at each other the entire night. >>>user39948 they are so fucking perfect oml

Canada June 2024 yourpersonalinsta posted

493,928 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, totowolff, and others yourpersonalinsta Over the moon to have been able to be with you for this win in Canada, Maxie. user299 MAXIE?! I have no one to talk to about this redbullracing our good luck charm strikes again! >>>user456 Red Bull calling her theirs??? Love this for her. maxverstsppen1 thank you for always being in my corner liefje ❤️ >>>user394 how am i supposed to be normal after reading this??? user8827 Not Toto in the likes trying to get on her good side so Max signs with Merc in 2026 >>>user778 HAHA can you imagine??

Amalfi Coast August 2024

maxverstappen1 posted

987,409 likes liked by yourpersonalinsta, redbullracing, yourdad and others maxverstappen1 summer break with this gorgeous girl user458 they are my royal couple yourpersonalinsta wishing we were back on that boat rn instead of on different continents :( >>>maxverstappen1 just a few more weeks until Singapore, schatje. >>>user4938 this is my roman empire >>>user024 mom and dad are sad so i am sad too

October 2024 Austin, Texas

You hadn't seen Max in over three weeks. Three very, very, very long weeks. And not to be dramatic or anything but you felt like you might actually pass away if the Uber that was currently picking it's way through very heavy Austin traffic drove any slower.

While the sleek Mercedes SUV waited at a red light, your gaze drifted away from the navigation system showing the the heavy traffic all around you towards the busy city streets around you. Whoever had decided to schedule an Eminem concert, a huge college rivalry football game, and a Formula 1 race all in the same city on the same weekend should have their head examined.

Fixated on the crowd on the sidewalk outside, you mull over the last six months of your life. It has certainly been a whirlwind, that was for sure. If someone had told you back in the beginning of May that you'd be on your way to your sixth Grand Prix of the year to watch your boyfriend race in Formula 1, you would have laughed in their faces. Because really, when you sat back and considered it, the fact that you had gone from being a fan of the sport and interviewing Max on a professional level to dating him in under six months was absolutely wild.

While you attended races whenever you could, you found yourself more often than not called to the other side of the world to attend to your flourishing career. In the last six months you had ping ponged around the globe, bouncing between weekends with Max and over scheduled weeks filled with work, interviews, and meetings. Some days you just wished that things were simpler and you could just dedicate yourself to following Max around from city to city but you knew that Susan B Anthony would roll over in her grave if you gave up everything for a man so quickly, even a man as amazing as Max Verstappen.

You brush aside the thought of leaving your work because in the end, all that is is a simple fantasy brought on by you missing the man that has become the center of your universe lately.

After attending the Singapore GP with Max, you had spent a few extra days with him in Asia before needing to fly home. While Max did have nearly an entire month break from racing, he couldn't follow you to New York like he had intended. After coming back from the summer break, Max's luck had started to slip and the car had deteriorated. He hadn't won a race in months, the car was an absolute tractor, and Lando was gaining on him in the Championship. He had needed to spend every extra moment he had in the sims and with the engineering team trying to salvage the season.

While Max had been in Europe, you had been in the US recording episodes with Heidi Klum, Wayne Gretzky, and finally Kylie Kelce. Heidi had been in LA, Wayne in Florida, and Kylie in Philly so you had spent most of the last three weeks on the road. As the SUV inched closer to the COTA track, you realized you couldn't remember the last time you'd set foot in your apartment.

Exhaustion seeps into your bones as the realization washes over you. You loved the life you lived, wouldn't trade it for the world but sometimes, in these quiet moments you wished for a break, a chance to go home, wherever that even was now, and just rest.

Your phone buzzing beside you pulls you back to the present. Ysou struggle to shake off the mind numbing melancholy that's settled over you like a thick woolen blanket before answering the call. "Hi baby." You sigh, knowing who it is without even looking at the caller ID.

"What's wrong?" Max's voice is sharp on the other end, effortlessly reading your tone.

You shake your head, chest tightening with anxiety. "Just..." You search for the right words. "tired is all. I just realized I can't even remember the last time I spent a night in my own bed."

"Oh, schatje." Max sighs, knowing how grueling this schedule is as he lives it as well. "Do you want me to have the jet take you home? It's at the airfield still."

Tears collect in your eyes as your chest squeezes painfully. "No, I just want to see you." You whisper, afraid if you raise your voice you'll start to cry.

"How far are you from the track?"

You pop your head around the SUV's headrest to check the nav system. "Not long. Five minutes. I can see the giant observation tower from here."

"Have the Uber bring you right to the paddock gates. I have a car here and a few hours before any media duties. I'll take you back to the hotel myself and we can take a nap together, okay?"

Your entire body sags with relief at his words. If there was one thing that Max was good at, it was taking care of you. He didn't hem and haw or waver on a plan of action. He saw what you needed and made sure that you were taken care of. The way the burden of everything that you had silently carried for years shifted towards Max the moment you landed in Miami all those months ago was something that would shock you for years to come.

"Okay." You whisper, swiping at a single tear that managed to escape.

You have a few moments to collect yourself before the Uber stops at the entrance to the paddock. From your seat in the back, you spot a familiar blonde head that belonged to your Dutch boyfriend waiting for you. You're suddenly simultaneously bursting with excitement and beside yourself with grief as the anxiety that has gnawed at you over the last 24 hours fully consumes you at the mere sight of Max.

Max has you out of the car and into his arms before you can barely catch your breath. The moment you inhale that uniquely Max scent something inside you shifts and becomes crystal clear. You didn't need Max to have his jet take you home because you already were home. It sounded cliche in your head and it probably was, but you knew there was some truth to it: somewhere over the last six months your home had shifted away from your apartment in New York to wherever Max was.

Max tightens his grip around your waist, settling his chin on your head while you stay buried deep in his neck, you realize that home isn't a place any longer. Home is a person now and Max is that person. You don't have to go home to New York to rest, you just have to be in Max's presence. With him, you are utterly and completely safe and secure. For someone who spends 99% of her time 'on' and performing, being able to come home to Max and just switch it all off, allowing him to lead and take over, is the most powerful form of rest you could have ever dreamt of.

Max nods at the driver as he unloads your luggage, arms still locked tight around you. He can feel you melt into him, like you've been waiting for this moment since the last time you saw him. He knows that for him at least, this is true. Everything else in his life is completley falling apart. The car sucks, they had to ditch the special livery for this weekend becuase the fucking paint had the potential to make the car too heavy and slow. Lando has been on a tear lately, that McLaren a complete rocket ship and the only reason Lando hasn't overtaken him in the championship is thanks to some spectacularly shitty calls from the McLaren pit wall.

The only bright spot in Max's day is you. Your voice, your touch, your face. Any bit of you he gets on a daily basis is what keeps him going right now. As he had stood on the curb just moments before, desperately and not so patiently waiting while watching the black Mercedes SUV creep down the street towards him, it had felt like cruel and unusual punishment after being apart from you for so long.

And now? Now you were back in his arms and he drew in the longest breath he could, taking in the scent of your perfume and laundry soap that he had missed so keenly while he'd been working, and he simply couldn't get enough.

Max pulls away slightly, so he can see your pretty face but what he sees in your eyes nearly breaks him. Pain and longing hang heavy in your eyes and there is nothing Max wouldn't do to make all of that go away for you. Fingers tip your chin up towards him so he can finally get his lips on yours, a soft sigh escaping your mouth when he makes that first contact.

You swear it's like a cool drink of water in the middle of a humid heatwave in July, the way Max kisses you with such relief and passion and affection. Like he's trying to tell you through his kiss how much he adores you, how much he's missed you, how much he craves you.

"I love you." Are the first words he says to you and your breath catches in your throat. It isn't the first time he's said those words, Max had said them first all those months back when he brought you home to Monaco. It had been quick, probably too quick by the world's standards, but it just clicked between the two of you and the words had tumbled out of Max like it was the most natural thing in the world. The reason the words had your breath catching in your chest was because of the ferocity behind them, like he could tell how bone tired you were from all the travel over the last few months and he was desperate to remind you why you were doing all of this. Why the two of you were doing all of this together and apart. It was for moments like this, moments where you were attached to each other in the middle of the busy paddock parking lot like no one else existed.

"I love you too, Max." You whisper, dusting your lips over the stubble that was scattered over his jaw. "Can we go take a nap now? I'm so tired."

yourpersonalinsta posted

348,209 likes liked by kyliekelce, maxverstappen1, assistantshannon, and others yourpersonalinsta home is wherever you are (tagged: maxverstappen1) user098 mad max is no more, there is only soft cuddly boyfie max user0399 this is the cutest thing i've ever seen user000 god i am so single maxverstappen1 love you baby >>>danielricciardo SIMP >>>maxverstappen1 absolutely >>>user9938 it kills me that he is loves her so boldly and loudly. girl hit the mfing jackpot. (liked by author)

It's not your alarm that fully wakes you up on Friday morning. It isn't Max's either. But as you try to untangle your limbs from Max's and search for the source of the ringing, you can't help but curse whoever is interrupting the slow sleepy cuddles that had been progressing into something more heated for the past 20 minutes.

You nearly spit you're so mad when you see the caller ID.

"John." You growl, sitting up in bed as Max settles himself back against the mountain of pillows beside you. "It is 8 in the morning on a Friday the day after I saw my boyfriend for the first time in over three weeks. I swear on all things good and holy, this had better be good."

John, to his credit, didn't even scoff at the threat. He'd been your business manager for going on four years now and was used to your early morning attitudes.

"She said yes."

You sit up, back going ramrod straight as the three words clang through you. "What?" You hiss.

Beside you, Max struggles to sit up too, alarm coursing through him at the panic in your voice.

"Tree just called me five minutes ago. Said that Kylie had sent her the episode and wouldn't stop gushing about how amazing you were and how you were the perfect person to do this interview on the end of the tour and everything. Tree said Taylor watched your episode with Michelle and Queen Maxima too, said they were the best interviews she's ever seen. Everything is a go."

Your entire world tilts as what John is telling you fully sinks in. "Taylor Swift's agreed to come on the show?" You voice is weak, heavy under the weight of the news John is telling you. Your hands tremble at the thought of what this means for you. For your career.

Beside you, Max sucks in a breath at your sentence, fully aware of how big of a moment this is for you. Pride soars through him as he watches literal sunshine dance across your face, your smile as bright as the Texas morning light. "Schatje." He whispers, pulling your free hand towards his lips. Your eyes dart over to him and you grin at him, kicking your feet a little, completely unable to hide your excitement.

"She also said yes to your suggestion of a behind the scenes vlog on your channel ahead of the release of the episode. Thought the idea was marketing gold. You've got full access to everything for the entire week."

Before you had landed Kylie Kelce on the show, you and John had made a silly, pie in the sky request to Tree Paine not even thinking that it would go anywhere. When Kylie had agreed to do an episode, a request that had actually been made to her people months before John had contacted Tree, the idea of maybe, just maybe you might be able to land Taylor after had grown a bit. You hadn't told anyone of the request, not even Max, because you didn't want to be embarrassed if it didn't work out.

"There's only one problem." Your heart stops and you grip at Max's hand for support. You knew there had to be a catch. "They want you in Toronto by Sunday."

"Wh-what?" Your stomach plummets through the floor. You had just gotten to Austin last night and now you were going to have to leave again? You were supposed to spend the entire triple header with Max. Three weeks of solid time with him had been the only thing getting you through the previous three week separation. You two had even planned to go visit your parents in Michigan between Austin and Mexico later next week.

"The first concert is Monday and Tree wants you to get as much content as you can and has asked you be there at 9am Monday morning."

You head spins. "Oh-okay." There's a giant Max shaped hole in your heart at what you have to agree to, simply exhausted by the fact that you're going to have to pick up and leave again so soon. "Okay. We'll figure it out."

"Do you want me to have Shannon make flight arrangements?"

You glance over at Max, who senses your apprehension. "Let me talk through it with Max and see what we can figure out. I'll call you in a few hours, okay?"

"Sounds good. Congratulations, kiddo. This is huge."

You smile despite yourself, excitement and anxiety winding their way through your chest making it a little hard to breathe. "Bye John."

You gently place your phone back on the bedside table before turning to Max, bracing yourself for the good and bad news you have to deliver.

"The beginning of that call looked phenomenal but now you look like you're going to be sick." Max observes, pulling you into his lap.

You shudder against when his lips graze your neck, dropping a kiss to his forehead. "Taylor Swift agreed to come on the show and to let me do a weeks worth of behind the scenes of her Toronto shows."

"Baby, that is amazing. This is going to be huge for you and the show!"

You nod, a bit dazed by all of this information you have to process. "But they want me there by Sunday night so I can start first thing Monday." Sadness edges into your voice, the dread of having to leave Max again begins to sink in fully.

"When should Greg have the jet ready to take off then? You'll probably want to leave before the end of the race to beat traffic, yeah? Although I suppose we could find you a helicopter to take you from the track to the airport."

You stare at Max like he's grown three heads. His voice is so nonchalant despite him suggesting he rent you a helicopter that all you can do is blink at him for a few moments. "Just...just like that? You're on board with it? You're not upset?"

Max scoffs, pulling you closer so he can rest his head on your shoulder. His arms go tighter around your waist as he gives you a kiss on the cheek. "Why would I be upset? I'll do anything I can to help you live out this dream, schatje. You know that. This is the biggest thing to happen to your career since you had F1 racing legend Max Verstappen as a guest."

The giggle that tumbles out of you has the tension in the room popping like a soap bubble. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet, you're still here." Max finds your lips then, the kiss full of reassurance and confidence. Of course he was disappointed you were going to be leaving in 2 days and he wasn't sure when you'd be back with him but this opportunity was too good to miss. "I'd never forgive myself if you missed spending a week doing what you love with one of your favorite artists because of me. Of course I'll miss you but you need to do this. So tell me, when should I have the jet ready to get you to Toronto?"

yourpersonalinsta story post

story replies: user8882 ARE YOU THERE FOR ERAS TOUR??? user029 what are you up to ma'am??? user837 wait. first kylie's on the show and now you're in Toronto the same week as Taylor. ARE WE GETTING A TAYLOR EPISODE OH MY GOD.

TheYappingHour posted

876,029 likes liked by maxverstappen1, taylorswift, alexandrasaintmleux, and others theyappinghour Toronto, you were stunning! Can anyone guess who our next guest on the show is going to be??? Behind the scenes vlog dropping next week ahead of a very very special two part episode set to drop later this month. user928 oh my god, everyone stay calm, it's happening. user020 IS THIS FOR REAL??? I will never recover maxverstappen1 so proud of you my love >>>yourpersonalinsta couldn't do it without you, maxie >>>user928 if there's one thing Max is going to be, it's the first one in the likes and comments on anything his girl does. (liked by yourpersonalinsta) >>>user0298 may this kind of love find me one day

Excerpt from Episode 59 of The Yapping Hour featuring Taylor Swift:

You: Speaking of what you do in your down time, can we talk about how supportive you are of your boyfriend and show up for him despite the Brad's and Chad's hating every second of it?

Taylor: It's so silly to me, how much everyone hates it. When I show up at the game, I'm just like every other significant other. I'm not there to take the spotlight away from anyone, I just want to watch my man play!

You: Oh my God, I totally get it. It's so strange to me the way some fans can't handle someone like you who has a whole other identity outside of who you're dating, showing up to support the person you love.

Taylor: It's like, relax! I'm just here to watch my boyfriend catch a ball!

You: Right? Just let me enjoy watching 20 cars drive around in circles in peace please!

Taylor: You two are so cute though. Trav was watching the race in Monaco a few months back, right after he invested in Alpine, and there was that one shot of you and Max after the end of the race in his garage and you were giving him a hug. I love how loudly you love him and how public he is about you. It's refreshing.

You: Oh gosh, thank you. Yes, he is so supportive of everything I do, just like Travis is. It's such a comfort, isn't it? *Taylor nods* He actually stayed in Austin an extra day so I could use his jet to come up here.

Taylor: Trav was supposed to go to that race but got caught up in training stuff. It looked like so much fun.

You: Have you ever been to a race? Either of you?

Taylor: I haven't but Travis went to the Las Vegas race last year. Said it was the one of the biggest parties he'd ever been to.

You: You'll have to come this year then! It's in a few weeks!

Taylor: I'll talk to Trav and see if we can make it happen.

TheYappingHour posted

1,039,928 likes liked by maxverstappen1, taylorswift, kikagomes, and others theyappinghour What an absolute whirlwind of a week and a half. Spending time with your favorite artist, seeing her in her element, and then spending a few hours talking about everything from what it's like to live such a public life to how important it is to have a supportive significant other. I simply can't wait to share the behind the scenes vlog dropping at the end of this week and then the episode later this month. Taylor, you are a dream of a human being and we are so happy to have had this opportunity. Can't wait to see you and Travis at a race! taylorswift You are such a sweetheart! So glad we got to spend time together this past week! Can't wait to hear the episode my love! kikagomes how does it feel to live my dreammmm bestie??? >>>yourpersonalinsta kiks omg i will never recover from this!! maxverstappen1 Proud of you, as always lifeje. >>>yourpersonalinsta can't wait to see you so so so soon baby

"And he doesn't expect a thing?" You glance up at the ticket counter where the airline employee has begun to call first class. You stand, phone still pressed to your ear, pulling your carry on behind you.

"Nope!" On the other end, Max's PR manager Sophie giggles conspiratorially. "He was just complaining to GP ten minutes ago how he couldn't believe they didn't have more flights from Sao Paulo to Paris. He said he was considering upgrading his jet to one with longer range so he could fly private next time."

You roll your eyes but chuckle. If you were a drama queen, your boyfriend could be the drama king to match sometimes. Although you didn't blame him to be quite honest. After leaving Austin mid way through the race, you had missed the Mexico race entirely. The plan had been for you to fly down to Brazil for the Sao Paulo race but editing and press had taken much longer than you had anticipated so now it was Saturday night and you were boarding a 9 hour flight from New York to the South American country.

Only, Max didn't know that. Max thought you were getting on a flight to Nice via Paris before driving to Monaco where he'd meet you sometime late Monday night or early Tuesday morning. Joke was on him though, you had finished everything up and had called Sophie for help to get you down to Brazil just in time for Sunday's race.

"He's such a baby." You murmur as the flight attendant leads you to your seat.

"He is beside himself missing you." Sophie says and you can hear the smile in her voice. "Just make sure I'm around when he sees you for the firs time, okay? He's going to lose it."

Laughing, you hoist your suitcase into the overhead bin before settling down in the luxurious lie flat seat that will be your bed for the next nine hours. If everything goes right, you'll land in Brazil just as the postponed qualifying is finishing up and will be able to watch the entire race in person.

"Thank you for helping coordinate this, Soph. I really appreciate it."

"Anything to get Max out of this slump he's in!" She replies brightly.

A few minutes later, you hang up the phone and type out a quick text letting Max know you're boarding the flight. Luckily, the flight from New York to Paris is roughly the same time as the flight to Sao Paulo so he doesn't bat an eye when you tell him you'll be unreachable, only telling you that the doorman to his building is expecting you and to make yourself at home in his apartment in Monaco when you get there before he does.

************************************************************************

It is absolutely raining cats and dogs when the car Sophie hired pulls into the track after what feels like a lifetime of travel. Right after they served dinner on your flight, you took a sleeping pill and passed out for the duration of the flight, only waking up once the pilot turned on the overhead lights, signaling your arrival.

A quick text to Sophie alerts her to your arrival and she says she'll come and meet you outside the paddock with an extra umbrella. The driver that picked you up from the airport will take your luggage to the hotel where Max and the team are staying. When the car stops in front of the paddock gates, you spot Sophie immediately.

"Soph!!" You shout the moment you stumble out of the car, limbs a little stiff from the long car ride. Sao Paulo traffic is a beast in the best of weather but in a downpour like this? Nightmarish.

Sophie opens her arms to embrace you, "Oh I am so glad you're here. He is an absolute nightmare right now."

You grimace, knowing exactly why. He'd be starting P17 in a few hours. Between the team having got caught behind a red flag during Q2 and his 5 place grid penalty, it was a nightmare scenario for Max. All of this was compounded by Lando's win in the sprint yesterday and the fact that he was starting on pole today.

"Alright then, lets go. Maybe I can talk him down off a ledge before the race starts."

Sophie grins because she knows you'll be able to do just that. If there was anyone who could calm Mad Max down and bring him back to earth after the kind of morning the team had had today, it was you.

As you weave your way through the crowded paddock, the heavy rain simply not a deterrent to anyone at the track today, Max is in the garage considering the merits of scratching his eyeballs out so that he doesn't have to run this fucking race today. Everything is wrong. The car is terrible. Still. The FIA seemed to have a hard on for fucking up his weekend. Lando was on poll. And worst of all, he really fucking missed you. There was still several days between him and being reunited with you but if he could have just walked right out of the paddock and onto a plane to get to wherever you were in that moment, he would have. The only thing that seemed to settle him during these times lately was your steady presence in the garage. He didn't even need you to say anything, just knowing that you were around, within arms length if he needed you, did something to calm him like nothing else could.

He's talking to GP, actually, he's grumbling at GP when a familiar flash of hair and bright smile catches his eyes. Perfect, he thinks miserably, now I'm imagining her in the garage. I've gone full unhinged obsessed boyfriend, haven't I?

Imagine his shock when he actually hears your voice. "Max." You call out softly, hands clasped in front of you as you wait at the edge of the garage beside Sophie.

Max simply blinks a few times, as if he's trying to figure out if he's hallucinating or if you're really standing in front of him. His heart hammers in his chest when everything finally clicks into place. GP doesn't even bat an eye when Max walks away from him, mid sentence, before crossing the garage in a few short strides.

Max isn't usually one for intense public displays of affection, especailly in the garage and neither are you. There's a level of professionalism he likes to maintain while racing and you have always respected that but when Max sees you standing in front of him, practically drowning in one of his sweatshirts, hair wet and messy from walking through the paddock in the rain, he can't stop himself from scooping you up in his arms. Burying his head in your neck, he inhales deeply. So deeply that his lungs pinch with pain from the way he's trying to commit the way you smell to memory.

"You're here." He murmurs, voice thick and heavy with emotion. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to meet me in Monaco?"

Max sets you down, not really wanting you out of his arms but wanting to move you to a quieter part of the garage. Behind you, Sophie, GP and the rest of the team discreetly shuffle away to give you two a bit of privacy.

"I knew how hard the last two races were for you and I just..." Pausing, you have to wait for a moment for your hands to stop shaking. You've been running on sheer adrenaline and caffeine for what feels like the last three weeks now and the emotion of the moment catches up to you. "I just wanted to be here for you."

Max lowers his lips to yours, covering them in a kiss that is all longing and white hot heat. He keeps the kiss just this side of tame enough for the garage, not wanting to draw the ire of Christian but he had needed to taste you then. His hand comes up to cup your face while the other slips around your waist, pulling you in closer to his body. He's slightly damp from how wet it's been this morning but none of that matters now that you're back in his arms.

"I missed you so much." He murmurs, blue eyes practially sparkling down at you, he's so happy. It's been weeks since he's felt like this. Settled. Like he can take on the world. For the first time in what feels like forever, Max has a sense of determination that wraps itself around him. Like the championship isn't all but lost to Lando. Like the car isn't going to be terrible today, even though he might not even finish in the points. Like everything he's gone through the past few months on the track is all about to end because you're finally here and if anyone can bring the team luck, it's you.

"I love you." You whisper into his chest. "Now, let's go show the world why you're about to become a 4 time world champion, yeah?"

And that's exactly what he does.

yourpersonalinsta posted

938,398 likes liked by redbullracing, taylorswift, yourdad and others yourpersonalinsta we are SO back, baby!!! What started out as a nightmare of a day turned into a generational drive for the history books. P17 to P1 and I cannot believe I was there to witness it. Max, I am proud of you beyond words. You and the entire team deserve this win today. I love you to the moon and back, Maxie. (tagged: maxverstappen1) taylorswift what a race! Trav and I caught most of it before the game today. Congratulations!!! >>>yourpersonalinsta hope to see you in Vegas in a couple of weeks! >>>user928 oh my god, new bestie duo unlocked!? maxverstappen1 words fail to describe how much I love you baby. Thank you for always being in my corner and never giving up on me, even when I want to give up on myself. Love you to the ends of time, schatje >>>user928 i am SOBBING. Boyfriend Max is my favorite Max.

Tags: @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99

#f1 #formula 1 #max verstappen #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #f1 fluff #formula one fluff

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sturniolohouse · 2 months ago

Text

Junie Laughs - M.S

summary: four month old June laughs for the first time. dad!matt x reader - blurb

"Is daddy just so silly, Junie?" I beam at her belly laughs, each one more contagious than the last.

She has never laughed this hard before, it was a real one.

My heart swells as I record the moment, capturing the joy lighting up her face. Matt looks over at me with wide eyes and I cackle in disbelief of how genuine her laugh is.

At just 4 months old, she's giving us her first real laugh, not the little ones we'd try and poke out of her.

"Do you hear her?" He asks in pure shock, his whole face lit up in awe.

I nod quickly and look back to June, who's sticking her fingers in her mouth and looking up at Matt expectantly.

He leans in close again, using his animated, high-pitched voice, "Who's the cutest, most perfect, most amazing little girl…Junie is! You just love smiling big for daddy, my happy girl."

His excitement mirrors hers, and her squeals grow louder as she kicks her tiny feet, her laughter bubbling over once again.

He tickles her belly and smushes multiple kisses into her cheek, completely unbothered by the slobber coating her face. Her eyes squeeze shut in pure delight and when he pulls back, they pop open immediately, searching for him, eager for more.

She coos at him, dribbling a bit but Matt wipes it away with a his sleeve mindlessly. I get a quick glance at her droopy eyes and I know she's fighting sleep. It's getting close to her bedtime, which we had been doing pretty well with establishing a routine.

Right after her bath, before settling her in the crib, we always lay together in our bed. It’s become our little ritual, just the three of us cuddled close until she gets sleepy enough to drift off.

"Matt, you're getting her all worked up and she has to go to bed," I try to reason with him, but I can't help the smile on my face when she looks in my direction with her sparkling blue eyes. I shift to lie on my stomach next to her, propping my head up on my hand while Matt stays in front of her.

He continues to tickle her, pretending to bite her cheek and smothering her with kisses. Her squeals are so intense, I can hear the little gasps she takes in between, and it makes me a little nervous.

“Matt,” I warn softly, but he’s already backing off, laughing as he does.

He gives her a moment to catch her breath, his hands resting lightly on her belly as she hiccups through the last of her giggles, still smiling up at him. But I can tell her energy is fading fast, her little fists clench and unclench while her eyelids flutter, fighting to stay open.

"But she's so happy," Matt says through a smile, tracing his finger lightly over the curve of her cheek. "Tell mommy you want to stay up and hang with us," he teases, talking to her as she rubs her eyes, her full lips forming a slight pout.

She yawns this time, her tiny hands reaching up for Matt’s face, but her movements are slower now, her head lolling to the side for a moment.

I sigh, knowing it's only a matter of minutes before she's fussy and no longer our happy girl.

"Okay, okay, it’s bedtime, kid," Matt relents, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

He lifts her gently off the bed, cradling her close before laying her on his chest and leaning back against the pillows. I join them, resting against the headboard, feeling the calm settle over the room.

June was such a good baby. All the research I did on colic and sleep regressions felt unnecessary in the end. She was the textbook definition of an easy baby.

We got extremely lucky, especially as first-time parents.

The first couple of months of her life, she really just slept most of the time. But now her little personality is starting to set in and every day she's seems to learn something new.

She's been starting to babble more and making tons of sounds now. Her favorite at the moment is "bah-bah," which usually turns into a string of "babababababa" when she's particularly happy. Matt thinks it means she's closer to saying "dada," but I'm pretty sure it's "mama."

Time will tell.

She loves her stuffed black cat that Nick got her when we brought her home. It's sometimes the only thing that will calm her down during a rare meltdown. And Chris? He's her absolute favorite playmate and snuggle buddy. They've formed a sweet routine over these past few weeks. Every morning after her first feeding, they lay together the couch while he slowly wakes up.

It's a little tight with all of us in the house, especially with all of the baby furniture and toys everywhere. But we make it work. It's so much easier than if Matt and I were on our own.

Chris and Nick help us out so much, especially in the mornings so we can catch a break. They usually take over so Matt and I can get showered or run errands.

It truly takes a village to raise a child and we're all learning together.

Junie being so little definitely makes living in such close quarters easier. But we already notice how fast she's growing, and it’s made Matt and I seriously consider getting our own house so everyone can have the space they need. It’s a topic that’s been looming over our heads ever since we brought her home.

As much as we love Nick and Chris around, living under one roof is not realistic long term.

I shake those thoughts away and instead focus back on Junie who's still fighting sleep against Matt's chest, her tiny fingers clenching his shirt.

"Every day I wake up and I can't believe she's real," I say, my voice soft, filled with awe. "I don't even remember life before her,"

Matt smiles warmly, his eyes never leaving June as she starts to drift off. "I know. It's like she's always been part of us."

Her cheek is smushed into his shirt, and her tiny ear rests right over his heart, the steady rhythm lulling her further into sleep.

June always falls asleep easily with any of us, but listening to mine or Matt's heartbeat was a guaranteed way to knock her out.

She melts into him, going limp in his hold as she stares at me through her heavy eyelids. I turn on my side and reach my hand over to trace her soft face. She stops fighting sleep then, succumbing to her tiredness.

Matt gently strokes June's back, his fingers tracing delicate patterns against her tiny frame. Once her grip on Matt's shirt loosens completely, I know she's asleep.

"Aaand, she's out cold," I whisper in victory and Matt peeks down at her, a proud smile spreading across his face.

He leans down, placing a long kiss on the top of her head and pausing to inhale deeply.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand how she smells like actual heaven,” he says softly against her hair.

"I know, right? I don't understand it either. I could sniff her head all day," I agree, inching a little closer.

I keep staring at him, and he catches on, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

His expression shifts, a knowing smile creeping onto his face as he realizes I’m watching him closely.

He raises an eyebrow, playful suspicion in his voice. "What?"

"Nothing," I draw out a bit, my eyes fluttering slowly.

"You were staring pretty hard there," he quips back, his gaze flickering to my lips briefly before meeting my eyes again, a mischievous glint in his own.

"You just look really hot with a baby on you," I tease, a smirk tugging on my lips as I watch his face for a reaction.

Matt raises an eyebrow, trying to suppress a grin. "Easy there."

"M'just saying." I shrug innocently, enjoying seeing him squirm a bit.

His gaze drops to June, then back to me, his grin finally winning. "So, what, are you trying to say I should just walk around with a baby on me all the time now?"

"Wouldn't be the worst thing..." I reply with a smirk, leaning a little closer. Matt shakes his head, the smile never leaving his face as he rubs his eyes.

His chest rises and falls with a quiet chuckle, but June remains blissfully asleep against his chest. "You’re ridiculous, kid."

"Dare I say... DILF?" I tease further, raising an eyebrow.

Matt smirks. "Well, if I'm a DILF, then you're definitely a MILF."

"I would sure fucking hope so. I only carried your child for nine months, went through 20 hours of labor and then birthed her. Seems like the least I could get out of it," I say mainly lightheartedly.

Matt chuckles softly, "Don't worry, sweetheart, you've always been a MILF in my eyes," he says with warmth and affection, his hand finding mine and gently bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss.

I snort with a slight chuckle, "Good save."

He winks at me, then looks back down at June, her tiny fingers curled into his shirt. "Seriously though, we made a perfect little human, didn’t we?"

I nod, "Yeah, we really did."

We hear a few gentle knocks at Matt's door, and I softly tell them to come in. The door creaks open slowly, and Chris pops his head in, his usual mischievous grin already on his face. I put a finger over my lips, motioning to June sleeping.

"Aw, is she already out?" he whispers in a sing-song voice, walking over quietly to take a peek at her.

"Yep, just went down." I answer quietly.

He places his hands on his hips and pouts at her, "Sleepy Junie," Chris coos, his expression softening as he watches her sleep.

"Chris, you missed it," I whisper excitedly. "She was losing it before, laughing at Matt. I thought she was going to pass out... I got it all on video."

Chris's eyes widen. "No way! I can't believe I missed it, you gotta send me that shit," he says.

"It was so fucking cute, dude. She'd never laughed like that before," Matt chimes in, shaking his head.

Chris turns his attention back to Matt, rocking back and forth on his feet. I can already tell he’s gearing up to ask for something.

"Dude, you down to play fort for a few? I can't play with Nick again, he's fucking trash." He huffs, taking his hat off to adjust his hair before placing it back on.

Matt glances at me, stifling a laugh before carefully shifting June so she’s cradled more securely against him.

He shakes his head at Chris. "Really, dude? She just fell asleep."

Chris is relentless though, "Bro, come on, just a few rounds," he pleads, eyes darting between Matt and me.

I sigh, turning to Matt and giving him a small smile.

"You can put her in the crib now, she should be okay. Go play for a bit if you want." I nod toward the door, and from the corner of my eye, I catch Chris fist-pumping in silent victory.

Matt is grown and doesn't need my permission for anything, especially playing video games with his brother. But I know he would never go without me giving the green light.

"You sure?" Matt asks, glancing between me and June.

"Yeah, go ahead. I’m going to read for a bit" I reassure him with a smile.

He hesitates for a moment, clearly torn, before he finally relents, nodding. "Alright, I’ll be back in a bit."

As he carefully stands up, cradling June in his arms, I watch Chris bouncing on his heels, clearly excited.

I hear Junie's soft grunts as Matt places her in the crib in the corner of the room. We ended up having to move his desk up to the loft where the old podcast room was.

Matt shushes her gently, pausing for a second and watching her, making sure she's fully settled. He stands up and lets out a breath of relief when she doesn't wake up, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

He turns to me with a small, tired smile, like we've just dodged a tiny grenade.

"That was close," he whispers, shaking his head as he steps back from the crib. "Let me know if you need anything, okay? I'll be back in a couple hours," Matt tells me as Chris waits for him by the door.

I nod. "Oh, Chris?"

"Yeah?" He answers, rubbing his hands together.

"If you wake up June with your screaming, you're the one putting her back to bed." I say with a sweet smile, and I see Matt cover his mouth as he laughs softly.

Chris freezes. his eyes wide before sheepishly nodding. "Noted."

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #dad!matt #sturniolohouse #matt sturniolo blurb

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wandasaura · 3 months ago

Text

YOU ARE IN LOVE

summary — after a long day spent on the beach with your girlfriends, wanda and natasha’s love is loud enough to hear in the silence of your bedroom

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, dom/sub dynamics, domestic dominance, mommy kink, daddy kink, exploration of subspace in nonsexual situations, fluff galore, fainest appearance of bratty reader, warning spank, wanda taunting natasha, hot mommy wanda in a bikini, sexy daddy nat on the beach in a bikini, dare i say more?

authors note — i combined like six different requests for this, so it’s quite a bit longer than my other summer oneshot! also, i can’t believe how perfectly this title fit a soft little moment written towards the end, it wasn’t planned at all but the full circle moment is beyond fulfilling!

The thin flamingo pink straps of your favorite summertime bathing suit made elegant crosses against your back whenever you allowed the unrelenting August sun to fall against you intimately. They were intricate enough that Wanda spent most nights tracing the evidence of once fairer skin with soft fingers, hot breath fanning tantalizingly across the nape of your neck as she spooned you in bed, but still simple enough that the lacy top didn’t take any more than a few seconds to slip on while dashing to get ready and meet them by the front door before Wanda came up to find you herself. The vibrant bathing suit that had been purchased by Natasha brought out a spark in your eyes that was addictive, and frequently you found yourself reaching for it whenever a pool day had been declared by your girlfriends.

Today, Natasha had decided to do something different, and like many others that had fallen into the cycle of outdoor activities while the warmth of summertime lasted, you found yourself submerged in the waters of the Atlantic, granules of coarse sand embedded throughout your scalp while the aroma of salt air captivating your senses. The rush of people had died down since late June and early July, leaving mostly locals around you as you frolicked and splashed through the waves that crashed against your back. Droplets of water clung to your skin, creating racetracks and mazes out of your arms and belly as you bobbed in and out of the waist deep water, only tracking the location of your girlfriends sporadically when you thought you’d drifted too far in another direction.

Up higher on the beach, surrounded by granules of sand the color of a perfectly roasted marshmallows – in your opinion at least, Natasha was a freak who liked her smores black and charred – Wanda and Natasha on their bellies, their arms folded beneath their heads as they pleaded with the sun to allow them even an ounce of golden color to bear through the early weeks of approaching fall. Wanda had been more fortunate than Natasha in the months leading up to this impromptu outing, bearing a gorgeous bronze sheen against her limbs and face, while Natasha had burnt to a crisp within minutes despite every technique she’d tried to use. It was endearing, but desperately you wanted them out here with you. You’d spent three hours building sandcastles and pouring sand over Wanda’s feet whenever she’d explicitly told you not to do that, but eventually she’d sent you off to the water when your relentless energy grew to be too much to handle all at once.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been out in the depths of the ocean for, diving into waves and body surfing back to shore whenever you grew tired of keeping yourself afloat, but as the sun faded farther into the horizon, you knew that at least a considerable amount of time had elapsed since Wanda sent you off to burn off some restless energy. With one final somersault into a massive wave, you trudged back up the expanse of sandy shorelines, marveling at the the endless abyss of blue that stretched on for miles above you. The cloudless sky had been a rarity in recent days, unpredictable sun showers and thunderstorms wreaking havoc on Westview like many other neighboring towns in New Jersey, but today had been a yearned for glimpse of peace that thankfully wasn’t quite over yet, and while you would absolutely never admit it, you were glad that Natasha had woken you up sweetly at seven in the morning instead of letting you sleep like you’d demanded.

Your girlfriends were easy to spot, the large blue and tan umbrella one of the only ones that littered the shorelines. There was an endless array of color schemes spread across the beach, so much so that it was honestly an eyesore, but Wanda and Natasha had always preferred simpler things, and a refined palette of baby blues and muted tans made up most of their beach equipment. Everything had been custom made by a small boutique just a few blocks away; from their towels, chairs, umbrellas, down to the cooler packed with crisp waters and hard seltzer, it was all the same palette, which only made spotting two redheads on a beach full of bottle blondes and brunettes easier.

When you reached them, water dripping off your frame as the wind blew and developed you in a gentle chill, you made sure that you stood directly over top of Wanda, not only blocking her back from the sun, but getting her wet in the process. You grinned cheekily down at her, kicking sand up at Natasha’s ankles when the fleeting thought of her being left out crept up on you. The russian cursed beneath her breath, turning over to send you a very pointed glare, only to be ignored as you continued to grin down at Wanda, who refused to budge despite your ministrations.

“Mommy!” You whined when you didn’t get your way, shuffling your feet against the sand in a petulant fit, though her head was still burrowed into her arms as she lounged against the thick blue and tan towel that you decided now was your worst enemy. Your own head was fuzzy and light as a result of her constant babying since leaving the house that morning, having apparently discussed taking you out in subspace with Natasha while you were upstairs taking forever to get ready. Since that first time you’d gone to the aquarium and explored the limits of their dominance and your willingness to submit, you’d found an easy comfort in their domestic control, and that didn’t falter for a second even on a crowded beach. You trusted them, and more importantly, they trusted themselves to steer you clear into a blissful haze of intimate submission without pushing you too far over the edge and sending you into a drop. So much of their effortless love and careful time had been poured into shaping your trust, it felt like another lifetime ago when Wanda had been the very thing you aimed all of your fears and insecurities at, but now she was the one thing that you wanted so unabashedly that you weren’t above throwing a fit in public to get it.

You screeched in startled shock when she abruptly turned onto her back, emerald eyes narrowed into thin, unamused daggers before she was reaching up and grabbing your wrists, pulling you down firmly on top of her, hardly caring that your wet body made an impression against her own dry bathing suit. She was planning on getting in the water with you anyways, so the evidence of your frame against her front was hardly of any significance. You whined in shameful embarrassment when her palm crashed down against your ass in a strike of pointed warning, the initial clap of contact thankfully drowned out by incessant seagulls that swarmed a nearby tent where french fries had been spilled by a toddler. For a moment, you focused on how her skin was warm beneath your body, your mind already melting away into peaceful contentment now that you had her arms around your waist, but you were brought back to the chaos of the beach when her lips ghosted along the shell of your ear, her breath heavy and warm as it swirled around your skin. “You throw a fit and we go home. Is that how you want today to go, little one?”

You whined, shaking your head while a tear-filled expression came over your once radiant features. You absolutely did not want to go home, you were having so much fun pretending to be both a fishie and a mermaid, you’d begged Natasha all summer to take you down to the beach for a full day of activities and fun, but she’d denied your request every time because of the unrelenting crowd of rude tourists that gathered in Westview like clockwork each year. You didn’t want to lose all of this prematurely, so you mumbled a meek apology and hid your face within Wanda’s neck, on the verge of tears that she’d admittedly seen coming.

Her hand rubbed your back soothingly, a weighted presence that brought a comforting peace over you easily, and comfortably you turned your head to look at the villages of sandcastles you’d built at the start of your adventure. Your fingers, ever unable to remain still, wandered over to the ones that were closest around you in disheveled clumps of beige, gravity having pulled them down over the hours that you’d spent in the water. Natasha’s castles still looked the best beside yours and Wandas, irritatingly so, and without restraint you smashed your palm down against her tallest one, careful not to damage the seashells that had she’d so carefully pressed into the dry sand around it, but effectively bringing a calamitous end to her quaint kingdom. Wanda’s disapproval was not so quietly delivered upon you, and disapprovingly she gripped your chin between slender digits, her glare unwavering and able to easily undo you. A strained whimper fell off of your tongue, the sound soft and meek, reflective of your sensitive headspace that despite its newfound edge of brattiness, both she and Natasha adored.

“What is with the attitude?” Her voice is thin, edged with guarded dominance that has you whimpering and searching aimlessly for protection from Natasha, but the Russian at your side is in no mood to help you out, equally as curious as Wanda, and she merely narrows her gaze in pointed waiting as she nods just slightly back at her wife. You let out a soft grunt, teary eyes blinking up at your girlfriend as you attempt to press your face into her neck in embarrassed shame, but her fingers keep you still, only loosening when she feels your muscles go rigid with emotions you have no way to verbalize so far into a state of submissive bliss. “I thought you were going to be a good girl for Mommy.” She coos tenderly, shifting her approach as she watches you try to formulate a coherent answer to her previous question, effectively rousing yourself from that delicious state of bliss she’d worked tirelessly to bring forth.

“Be a good girl for Mommy.” You mumbled, a soft pout pulling your lips downward as you stared deep into the kaleidoscope of greens that made up her dazzling emerald eyes. There was no easy color for her eyes to claim, but the glimmering appeal of a deep emerald hue was the most accurate, and a ring that typically adorned her slender fingers beside her engagement ring was a sparkling ring with a pristinely cut emerald that you had gotten her for her birthday. “Ring gone.” Your pout deepened when your realized that the chill of metal that typically came with her hands on your face was missing, and the gleam of sunlight catching jewels was absent as well.

Wanda smiled softly, peppering your face in kisses that distracted you from your lapse in sadness. “Mommy left them at home so they’d be safe. Just like we left your ring at home, remember, sweetheart?” She laughed softly, brushing the pads of her thumbs against your sun kissed cheeks, softly tsking when she noticed just how pink you’d become since venturing down to the water. “I think somebody needs more sunscreen.”

“No!” You whined sharply in adamant protest, wriggling away from her chest in a futile attempt to avoid the reapplication of her coconut scented sunscreen all together, but again she held you tightly to her chest, and again she tutted in disapproval.

“Behave.” She warned lowly, accent seeping into the single uttered word. You whined, kicking your feet petulantly against the granules of sand that had been tickling your skin since she’d initially pulled you down onto her. “Malyshka, Mommy has to put sunscreen on you. She doesn’t want her little duckling to burn.” The added emphasis of her finger gently pressing against the tip of your nose did little to convince you, but the smallest part of your brain that still had the ability to think rationally warned you that there was no use in putting up a fight.

“Daddy do.” You negotiated, knowing that at the very least, Natasha wouldn’t take the time to tease your already sensitive body like Wanda would, and did. She’d had you a blubbering mess of desperation before you left the house, her fingers having slipped beneath the fabric of your bathing suit on more than one occasion in a manner that was painfully suggestive.

Wanda rolled her eyes fondly, shrugging you off of her body and toward Natasha who was trying her best to muffle her amused laughter as she watched you with fondness etched into her soft mesmerizing eyes. If Wanda’s eyes were impossible to name, hers were forbidden. There was no color in the world that would ever even come close to the colors that swirled within her eyes each day, constantly changing as landscapes and outfits did. The sun had dried you almost entirely since you’d abandoned the high tides of the midday Atlantic, but still a towel was run over your limbs and exposed belly before Natasha smeared the dreaded white lotion across her palms, warming it up before she even tried to touch your skin, having learned from Wanda’s mistake that morning. You wriggled impatiently, huffed and whined throughout the entire process, but you let her do it, so neither she nor Wanda reprimanded your attitude.

“Now was that really so bad, utenok?” Natasha laughed teasingly, kissing the tip of your sunkissed nose affectionately before she turned toward the beach bag laid upright on the sand a few inches back from the towels, shaded by the umbrella that was practically useless as none of you had spent even a minute beneath its provided shade.

“Don’t like.” You grumbled, sinking into Wanda’s lap when the Sokovian finally sat upright on her own towel, abandoning her plans of sunbathing, instead, patting her thighs in a wholesome invitation to cuddle properly.

“I know you don’t like it, you make that very clear.” She mused softly against your hairline, tangling her fingers into the straps of your bathing suit, taking a peak at the tanlines that had darkened considerably since you’d first stepped foot outside. “What do you say we go play in the water some more while Daddy gets you an ice cream?”

“Ice cream?” You perked up, eyes shining brightly beneath the sun at the mention of your favorite summer treat. You’d made it your mission to try every ice cream parlor in Westview, and being a beach town with an ample amount of tourism during the warmer months of the year, there were plenty to go through. You’d nearly completed the list, all that remained was the small shop toward the front of the beach, where the line was almost always wrapped around the building.

“Yes, baby, ice cream. I told you we’d get a treat, didn’t I?” Wanda laughs at your excitement, eyes sparkling with elation as she reveled in the simple moments that were coming to a rushed end. In only a couple of weeks you’d be back at school, no longer living on campus but still away from home for hours upon hours in the already limited day, and to fill that time alone both she and Natasha would dive back into work. They’d delegated the minor tasks to trusted employees to spend the utmost amount of time with you as possible while they could, and as nice as it had been to take a much needed break and focus on their personal lives, they were itching to get back into the office, handling everything by themselves like they’d been doing for years since starting their own company. “What kind do you want?”

“Strawberry! With peanut butter sauce and hot fudge!” The grin that split your lips was wide and so addictive, Wanda couldn’t help but allow her eyes to dance between your eyes alight with soft affection and your smile twinged with golden joy. You were the epitome of ethereal, lounging against her chest in a bathing suit that left little to the imagination, but still you looked so wholesome with your ass out for the residents of Westview to see, granules of sand clinging to your spankable cheeks.

“Oh yes, how silly of me. I should’ve known.” She teases, because truthfully, she should’ve. You ordered the same thing all summer, and when Natasha suggested you try something else, knowing a handful of spots in Westview had signature flavors that tourists traveled just to get, you’d pouted and outright refused saying that was just as bad as you going around kissing other women. Wanda had spanked you for that, assuring that you remembered your place and that nobody could ever please you like she and Natahsa could. Still, you didn’t get a different flavor. “My little strawberry monster!” Wanda attacked your neck with kisses, her laughter mixing with yours as Natasha stood behind you both, phone out, capturing the sight of the both of you so entangled with love.

“One strawberry ice cream for the little one, and what will you be having, Wands?” Natasha’s eyes glimmered beneath the sun, her red locks practically ablaze beneath the harsh kiss of daylight. She looked like something straight out of a portrait, but you doubted any artist could replicate her beauty by any standards.

“A bomb pop.” Was Wanda’s answer, and without any further questions, Natasha began the long walk up the beach, growing smaller and smaller as she left you behind. You waved at her retreating frame, hopeful that she’d sense your affection and turn to wave back, but it never came, and tearfully you turned your gaze to Wanda, eyes wide and glimmering with feelings that were all the more powerful in your blissful state of submission. She kissed your pout away affectionately, tapping your thighs thoughtfully. “What do you say you show Mommy what you were doing in the water, huh? Should we go down and explore while we wait for Daddy?”

“Want Daddy to come back.” You pouted, the sudden reminder of Natasha’s absence falling heavily on your sensitive heart. Wanda smiled sympathetically, caressing your cheeks with delicate affection.

“Daddy will be back soon, my little love. Come on, up you get.” Wanda gently eased you off of her lap, taking your hand in hers the second her feet were planted on the hot sand. She grimaced slightly, unprepared for the coarse granules to be so warm beneath the soles of her feet, but she didn’t let it deter her. Instead, it only hastened her speed, and you giggled as she pulled you along the beach, weaving in and out of families and couples that lingered on the shorelines.

You must’ve been down in the water for nearly an hour and a half, splashing at Wanda and diving into her chest whenever a wave rolled through and rocked you into her, the sun truly beginning to fall beneath the tide now and turn the sky a breathtaking sight of divine orange and sweet pink around you. Your hair was a tousled mess on top of your head, held out of your face by a hair tie that was surely knotted in place by now. The Sokovian would have to meticulously untangle it before you fell into bed, but that was always something she adored doing, and you enjoyed it just as much. You whined when her playful ministrations came to an abrupt end, her fingers no longer digging into your ribs as she tickled you in the waist deep water that splashed and lapped at your upper torso. Her eyes had been searching the shorelines for any sign of Natasha since you’d ventured into the abyss of salt water, but now they narrowed in on one thing, something that you hadn’t noticed just yet.

When you did notice, Wanda’s soft fingers tilting your head in the direction of the beige and blue umbrella, you booked it to shore without so much as a glance back at her. Natasha had seen your attack coming from a mile away, and had somehow been prepared for it when your body crashed into hers, your lips, soft from the granules of sand that you had face planted into a couple of times, peppering kisses on any inch of exposed skin that you could reach. She laughed, pulling you away only to connect your lips in a soft embrace. When Wanda caught up to you, you’d piled in on the towels, eating ice cream as you watched the sun fall further and further beneath the blanket of endless murky blue water. The shorelines of Jersey weren’t marvelously blue like the coast of Florida or the Maldives, but they were perfect for the simple moments you yearned to share with both Wanda and Natasha.

When ice creams were finished, yours the last to be scraped clean of soft pink goodness, Wanad had forced you still as she wiped off your face and hands, softly reprimanding you as you whined and tried to wiggle away. How you’d gotten ice cream on both your cheeks and your nose, she wasn’t entirely sure because she had watched you use a spoon the entire time, but still your face was sticky and she doted on you lovingly all while Natasha began to pack away all of your belongings.

You’d walked to the beach, pulling along a little cart that held the umbrella and the beach bag and cooler, and that morning it hadn’t seemed like a far stretch, but as darkness covered Westview entirely and the long day of playing and vulnerability caught up with you, it felt endless. When you finally passed Agatha’s house, your feet dragging against the sidewalk as you held onto Naasha’s hand firmly (well more like she held onto you because you had a tendency to wander off anytime something caught your attention), your were absolutely certain that it had probably been at least twenty years, although Wanda would say it had only been twenty minutes and that was only because you kept stopping to whine and complain about being sleepy before Natasha started dragging you along again.

When you slipped inside of the house, the airconditioning sent a shiver down your side, and instinctively you stepped closer to Natasha, seeking out the warmth of her sun kissed body. Natasha hums, smiling softly down at you, taking in the sight of your pink cheeks and tired smiles. Wanda had pulled the cart into the garage to be dealt with tomorrow, and when she returned, she merely grabbed both yours and Natasha’s hands and guided you upstairs, where pajamas were picked out, and towels for the shower were grabbed. The water was warm as it cascaded down your body, and Wanda’s fingers were soft as she rubbed soap against your skin and scrubbed sand from your hair. Natasha stayed clinging to you whenever Wanda wasn’t working on getting you clean, only fully separating when she wanted to be the one to rub strawberry scented body wash across her wifes body. It was a soft encounter, one full of delicate praise and affection, and slowly they were easing you deeper down, farther than they’d done that morning before you set off for the shore.

Miraculously, the pajamas you’d picked for bed were a matching set, and one of your very own. The button up top was a soft blue color, printed with dusty white clouds and the smallest yellow duckling embroidered on the bottom left side. Natasha had done that for you one night, wanting to practice her skills, and while it was rather wonky and a little unproportional, you loved rubbing your fingers over the stitches as you fell asleep. She and Wanda had on the same style set, although Wanda’s were black and Natasha’s were a deep olive green. They matched in their own ways, and you couldn’t help but feel like they were so indicative of your differing personalities.

Wanda had you sit at the vanity so she could brush out your hair and get it braided for you, all while Natasha rambled on the other side of the room, telling you and Wanda about the woman that had stood in front of her at the ice cream parlor and had decided to sample every single flavor, only to not get anything and walk out with a fuss. Wanda laughed, but you were too sleepy to really pay attention, your head falling backwards until it landed against her sternum delicately, your eyes closed and your breathing light as she secured the last braid together.

“Come on, sweetheart. Lets get you all comfy in bed.” She cooed softly, not giving you a second to protest before she was guiding you to the bed that Natasha was already laying in. You crawled into the middle, your head falling onto the Russian’s chest with practiced ease before your hand reached out to hold onto Wanda’s. “Get comfy, baby. Mommy’s right here.”

“Mommy.” You mumbled, eyes barely open, head resting heavily on Natasha’s chest as you listened to the rhythmic beating of her heart.

“Shh, sleep baby. Mommy will be here tomorrow.” Wanda gently laid her other hand on your belly, her thumb slipping between the buttons that fastened your top, rubbing soft circles on your skin. It was only a handful of minutes before you were asleep, soft sighs slipping off of your lips as you snuggled closer to her warmth.

“Such a Mommy’s girl.” Natasha laughed softly, brushing her thumb against your cheek before Wanda swatted her hand away, not wanting her soft affection to wake you up already.

“You should’ve seen the near meltdown she had when you left for ice cream. I’d say you have yourself a little Daddy’s girl too. She just likes to push my buttons more than yours.” Wanda snorted softly, twisting onto her side, slowly pulling her hand off of your belly to instead intertwine her fingers with Natasha’s.

“Oh don’t I know it. I can’t say I blame her either.” Natasha’s smirk was taunting, and Wanda rolled her eyes fondly.

“Watch yourself, detka. There are plenty of other rooms in this house where I can remind you of who’s in charge. Or, maybe I should just take you here and make you be quiet. After all, I would hate to leave you unsatisfied if your desperate moans were to wake her up.” Wanda warned whimsically, and Natasha’s cheeks, already pink from the sun, grew crimson, her sudden silence a telling feature of her submission. “That’s what I thought.” Wanda tutted, getting her own body comfortable on the large bed you shared.

“I love you.” Natasha whispered into the silence, her thumb rubbing patterns on Wanda’s cold hand.

“I love you.” Wanda whispered back before she turned her attention to you, peacefully sleeping, unaware of the banter that happened over your head. “I love you, moya utenok.”

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matthewtkachuk · 3 months ago

Text

somehow still stuck on you

navigating the realities of your post break up friendship with quinn is exacerbated by how much you’re not over him

pairing: quinn hughes x reader

warnings: a bit of exes to lovers angst

word count: 2.4k

a/n: hi @boqvistsbabe i’m your fic exchange writer, i’m sorry for the wait but i hope you enjoy!! i was feeling mad regret over not signing up for the fic exchange so when @wyattjohnston asked if i wanted to step in as a pinch hitter i said duhhhhh. this is as much a love letter to vancouver in late july as it is a quinn fic

Quinn’s back in Vancouver.

It’s not exactly revolutionary given the millions of dollars and the capital C handed to him by the Vancouver Canucks, but it is noteworthy given the timing.

Training camp doesn’t start for another month, which makes it highly strange for Quinn to be back in the city already. Last you heard he was having a Brat Summer in Michigan.

Not that you were keeping tabs on your ex-boyfriend-turned-just-friend, of course. It’s not a crime to click through the first five Insta stories when you open the app, even when it showcases how much fun he’s having without you.

Although it might have felt like it when you were dating, the sun and moon didn’t rise and fall at the behest of Quinn Hughes. It was just easier to remember that fact when you weren’t faced with him—quite literally faced with a giant banner of his likeness leaving the Stadium-Chinatown SkyTrain station. The start of the regular season would be bad enough with his name on every one of your coworkers' lips.

All this to say you thought you had more time before he re-entered a position at the center of your universe.

Summer had been kind to you, giving you the time and space needed to move on and heal. Even with the colder than usual June, you’d managed to sneak away to Osoyoos a couple weekends with the girls. Your skin? Glowing. Your hair? Shining. Your thoughts? Totally devoid of one Quinn Hughes.

Until you’d been swiping through the aforementioned stories and spotted one of your favorite walking spots in his story. Very much downtown Vancouver and very much not Michigan.

It wasn’t a terrible break up and you’d been friends long before ever getting together, so it’s not unreasonable to receive an invitation to get the gang together for drinks and dinner in Gastown to celebrate the return of Quinn and others in your friend group to your city.

The time and place all but guarantees you have no way of getting out of it, and truly you are happy to get together with everyone, so you have no choice but to react to the “thumbs up if you’re coming” message.

All the healing and the positive thinking in the world can’t stop you from dressing a little better than you ordinarily would for a casual hang or spending a little more time on your hair.

You’re glad for the extra effort when you stroll in right on time. Everyone is loitering around the entrance, clearly waiting on an open table. It kind of foils your plan to slip into an empty chair, thereby avoiding the initial how are you hug train. Before you can even think of another way out of it, you find yourself being passed along from one friend to another until you reach Quinn, fumbling into a quick and stilted hug.

“Awkward,” Sienna hisses but all you can do is shrug pathetically.

You’re saved from much more embarrassment by the hostess informing your group the table is ready and you’re so grateful you could almost kiss her. The long table means you’re not sat immediately beside Quinn which is a blessing because you’re not sure you could take any more close contact. Conversation flows easily around you, the usual topics of work, families, and shitty roommates.

Everything is going well until the conversation turns to Quinn’s summer in Michigan. The distance between the two of you isn’t large enough for you to miss the way Quinn’s eyes flicker over to you when someone asks him if he’s seeing anyone.

It’s not fair the way your vision briefly turns to black, your heart constricting in your chest. The feeling of almost betrayal that floods your veins isn’t fair either—it’s been months since you broke up and you’ve been on your own fair share of dates. Failed dates to be fair, but dates all the same.

Sienna is your saving grace in the form of a clenched hand around your forearm, hauling you to the bathroom with some fake excuse you don’t hear.

“Are you okay?” she asks outside of the table’s listening distance

You can only shrug pathetically, all words failing you now.

She waits a solid three minutes before leading you back.

“Crisis averted!” she declares when you both return, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

The conversation has turned away from romantic endeavors, circling back to someone’s work drama.

You get the sense that Quinn is trying to meet your eyes, but you don’t dare look in that direction until it’s time to leave. Your exit is hasty, the excuse of needing to catch the sky train in the next eight minutes excusing you from any further contact. In the sea of goodbyes, Quinn’s is the clearest.

It’s not technically avoiding if your workload has you so busy you barely see your roommate, let alone your friend group, right?

There’s a major deadline coming at work and it feels as though you’re wasting money on rent when all of your time is spent at the office. Wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat.

It’s easier to just mute the group chat, rather than be bothered by the buzzing of your phone.

Easier until Sienna ends up bursting through your door after work using the key you’d given her for emergencies only.

“This is an emergency,” she says before you can speak—caught red handed knee deep in an episode of Love Island UK and a tub of ice cream.

Neither of you speak as she grabs a spoon from your drawer and burrows into the couch beside your pathetic cocoon. It’s born of burnout rather than heartbreak, but you’re aware of the optics of it all.

“You’ve been avoiding us,” she says while some hot blonde cries in the confessional on TV.

“Have not,” you rebut, unceremoniously pulling the tub of ice cream away from her so that she scoops up air instead. “I’ve just been so busy with work. I haven’t even had the time or energy to go grocery shopping, hence the ice cream for dinner.”

Her eyes flicker down to the tub in your hands but she doesn’t say what you’re both thinking. That there’s more to the unconventional supper than just laziness.

“Come to fireworks this weekend,” she says instead, her motives for the impromptu visit finally becoming clear. “You missed last weekend and yesterday. I’m asking in person so you can’t ignore the group chat message like the last two times.”

“If I say yes will you be quiet and let me watch my show?” you ask. She nods emphatically, apparently proving that she can in fact be silent. Truthfully the festival of lights is a highlight of your summer, and watching the last two shows through other people’s stories isn’t your favorite way to view them.

“Fine.”

She squeals and throws her arms around you. You want to ask if Quinn will be there, and the look on her face says she’s waiting for you to, but you don’t.

At the end of the day it doesn’t matter if he’s going to be there or not. Exes or not, he was one of your best friends and will always be a major part of your friend group. There’s no separating the two and the sooner you get over it and everything returns to the way it was before you started dating the better.

She doesn’t push any further, content to sit alongside you and soak in someone else’s love drama on screen rather than your own.

“Remember a sweater!” are her parting words to you, notorious for always neglecting one.

You forgot a sweater.

It’s not until you’re sitting down on the 99 beside an old lady that you realize. You’re already running a little behind schedule and it would double your transit time to head back, so you settle into your seat and hope it doesn’t get too cold later.

By the time you reach the beach the group is already together, sitting on a couple beach blankets lined up end to end. You spot Quinn’s unruly dark hair before you even realize you’re looking for him.

“Look who finally showed!” someone says, and you roll your eyes as you drop down on the only spot available, right next to Quinn.

“I’m at the mercy of Vancouver transit, we all know this.” You’d rather rake your naked body over hot coals and then confess your lingering feelings for the boy beside you in front of everyone you know than waste time in traffic and pay the outrageous inflated parking price on a night of fireworks.

Quinn doesn’t tease you like the rest of your friends, and you wonder if he’s thinking about how the last time you saw fireworks together he’d driven. Or how he kissed you for the first time after driving you home from a different fireworks show.

The late afternoon passes by with an impromptu game of frisbee that you don’t partake in—there’s way too many people at the beach for it to be enjoyable and you’re more content to people watch and gossip while picking at the charcuterie spread someone else brought. The active rest of the group seems to reach the same conclusion you had and someone breaks out Uno.

By the time the sun sets, you’ve considered murdering both your friend to your left and your ex-boyfriend to your right. It’s bad enough you’re walking around with a still broken heart, now they’re ganging up on you with draw four cards and Uno reverses. The group is spared by the darkness making it too hard to play.

If circumstances were different, Quinn likely would be teasing you about being a sore loser, offering to kiss it better until someone inevitably fake gagged and told you to get a room.

Instead he’s silent as you turn your back to him in order to face the direction of the show about to start. The sea breeze hits and you can’t hold back your shudder.

“Did you seriously forget a sweater?” Sienna asks. “I told you.”

You spin around. “Yeah yeah yeah.”

Quinn is quick to pull off his hoodie, offering it to you with an outstretched hand. “Here.”

It feels too personal, too heavy, too full of implications and so you start to shake your head. “Oh, that’s okay.”

“You’re literally shivering,” he says. “Take it.”

It’s warm and soft and smells just like him. As you pull it over your head you’re taken back by just how right it feels. Like if you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend things were different.

The train of thought is broken by the first firework, and you spin back to watch.

The fireworks are beautiful and you sit in awe, ‘ooh’ing and ‘ahh’ing along with the crowd around you.

Someone up ahead stands up to take a photo and Sienna has no problem heckling him. “Sit down!”

They do and you just shake your head at her antics.

It turns out that sitting on the sand on a blanket isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. Mid way through the show, you find yourself shifting and leaning back to find a better way to situate yourself. In the process you brush your hand against Quinn’s, quickly pulling it back like you’d been burned.

“Sorry,” you murmur over your shoulder, unsure if the blush coating his cheeks is just your imagination.

When it’s over, you help everyone pack up and follow the group through the beach, quietly bitching about the sand getting into your sandals.

Everyone starts splitting up when the sand gives way to pavement. Sienna lives close, within walking distance and she gives you a tight hug and heads off in the direction of her house.

You’re turning away to start towards the bus stop when Quinn grabs your arm.

Thinking he wants his sweater back, you begin to pull at the hem but his words have you freezing in place.

“Do you want a ride home?”

Your place isn’t the exact opposite of his, but it’s also certainly not on his way home. Call it masochism, call it a desire to return to the way things were before you loved and lost, you agree with a quiet ‘yes.’

The walk to his car is quiet, and you resist the urge to ask him how much he paid for parking tonight, not sure you want to break the silence first.

That silence continues in his car, at least between the two of you. Something soft and acoustic plays through the car speaker as the lights of Kits turn into downtown.

When you get home, he offers to walk you to your door. Once, it was his way of making sure you got in safe. Then, it was his way of trying to prevent the night from ending.

Now, you’re not sure of his reasoning.

You get to the door, and he doesn’t say much more as you unlock it and step in.

“Do you want to come in?” you find yourself asking despite yourself.

He hesitates, hands in the pocket of his shorts. It kind of looks like he’s contemplating between stepping inside and running away.

It makes you angry, that bitter edge of hurt you haven’t quite gotten over yet surfacing.

“What do you want? You need to use your words, Quinn. Because your actions are confusing me!”

You have a very formulated argument prepared, full of evidence and conflicting actions—the result of hundreds of mini one sided arguments playing in your head since he’s been gone and since he’s been back. Arguments that don’t come to fruition because the look on his face is dangerous.

He cups your face in his hands and presses his lips solidly to yours. You don’t even have enough time to fall into the kiss before he’s pulling apart. “How’s that for confusing?”

There’s no answer from you, not verbally at least. Just the momentum of you throwing yourself at him, crushing your lips to his.

Words can wait.

#nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl x reader #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader #shelb writes

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