#''she's annoying'' how so. because she likes talking about her interests? because she's depressed?

[the-n3w3st-g1rl-g1rl]

I don't trust people who shit on Alphys

[mostofthingsmostofthetime]

Just finished the show a few days ago, so that's why I'm only just posting this now.

[starlighz]

I just noticed something

Hazbin Hotel has a large main cast.

But they managed it to make me like every single one of them?

Charlie screams naive Disney princess. But she has her own issues to face, she feels anger when lied to and can lose it.

Vaggie is the stormcloud to Charlies sunshine. Overprotective. But her past haunts her and she has to accept it.

Angel Dust seemed like the usual joke character that tells all the sex joke. When he actually deals with so much and copes with it in an unhealthy way and learns to unlearn those because he has reason to live for tomorrow now.

Husk was the standard grumpy character. When in actuality he had everything, was one of the highest. Until he made choices he can't take back and now he's at rock bottom. But that doesn't stop him from helping and listening to others.

Sir Pentious was the joke antagonist, not meant to be taken seriously. But he grew self confidence through those people and proofed that redemption is possible.

Nifty, again, joke side character, who has one motif. But she's not annoying. She always comes at the best of times to protect the people she cares about. Even if it is unintentional.

There were so many theories surrounding Lucifer. And then it was revealed that he is depressed, doesn't know how to actually talk to his daughter, seems to have no idea what actually happens in hell. He is so defeated. But his daughter shows him that there are so many things wirth fighting for and dreams are worthy.

Alastor was a fun character to begin with because he's so mysterious. But now we get bits and pieces of him interacting with other characters, him starting to lose that oh so dear control and it is interesting to see it all break down in those little moments only to fall back into the mask

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners

Chapter 1 - Hate For All Sinners

A/N – I couldn’t stop thinking about this short King after episode 5 of Hazbin Hotel came out. This is mostly a fic for me, to get me back into writing. (WILL DO A MALE AND NONBINARY ONE SOON!)

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

NON-BINARY / GN VERSION HERE

“Who’s that?” Lucifer asked, pointing you out to Charlie.

In truth, he would’ve likely asked that of the next person he saw. As Charlie’s father, Lucifer was trying desperately to show how interested he was in his daughter’s project, even if he was barely holding onto anything she said. It wasn’t that he was disinterested, or too ignorant to understand the situation, but rather that after spending so much time as a recluse, locked away in the protective space of his workshop where he wouldn’t have to see the sinners or the Hell he was responsible for creating, Lucifer could barely comprehend what was going on around him. He knew it was because he was depressed, but he was trying and he had to make Charlie see that, even if it meant feigning fits of hypomanic excitement.

Yet, Lucifer found himself genuinely… horrified by you. He had seen many types of Demon over the millennia. Typically, they tended to represent Earth’s animals, such as that annoyingly powerful Deer Demon, Alistair, whom Lucifer had met thanks to this very tour… not that Alistair was worth mentioning, piece of shit that he was, mingling with Lucifer’s daughter when he had no right to even breathe the same air as her-

Lucifer caught his snowballing thoughts, turning them back to you. You weren’t an animal Demon. There were other types of Demons of course, though Flora and Fauna were the most common; object Demons also existed, such as that rather famous one that people talked about, the TV Demon, V-something? Lucifer couldn’t remember his name. He didn’t watch Television… he didn’t do much of anything these days.

“Oh,” Charlie sidled over to you, wrapping her arm warmly around your shoulder as she corralled you towards her father, “Dad, this is (Y/N). She’s one of the hotel’s, uh, allies I guess, right (Y/N)?”

“That’s right, Sir,” You held out your hand for Lucifer, who was staring dumbly at you, uncertain what to make of you.

As the ruler of Hell, fuelled by angelic power, Lucifer could always read a Demon, or rather, he could read their strength. For example, he knew after only one meeting that the bartender, Husk was a strong Demon, though his power was clearly being dampened by a soul contract, whereas that little snake fellow Sir Pentious was rather weak, though he had potential if he could manage to claim even a few souls of his own, but you? You were entirely different.

First off, you didn’t resemble an animal, plant, or object… You were the most human-looking Demon that Lucifer had ever seen; frankly, he found that disturbing. Secondly, you didn’t seem to have much if any power. What was wrong with you? To come off as human with little demonic power… Well, if Lucifer didn’t know any better, he would guess that you weren’t a sinner at all, but you had to be. You were definitely dead; that much he could tell. And, you were in Hell.

Dead and in Hell - those were the only two qualifications for becoming a Demon, so why were you like this?

“Dad, are you listening?” Charlie said exasperatedly, clearly annoyed that Lucifer’s thoughts seemed to have trailed off once again.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Lucifer stated, staring at your hand which you had seemingly retracted when he wasn’t paying attention. Damnation! Now Charlie was going to think he had snubbed her friend on purpose.

“So, (Y/N) is another one of your patrons. That’s nice.”

“What? No. Dad, I just told you, (Y/N) has no interest in being redeemed.”

“Oh,” Lucifer looked you up and down disapprovingly. It figured. Even this non-Demon was looking for power in Hell, probably so you would finally be a killer worth bragging about – Honestly, what was the point? All sinners were the same. Greedy, destructive forces who wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left to break.

“Yep, she’s our only permanent resident who wants to help rehabilitate other souls. Isn’t that great? She helps with everything here, and she doesn’t ask for anything in return.”

“That’s not true,” You blushed at Charlie’s praise. “Your daughter is very generous, Sir. She lets me stay here rent-free.”

“And that’s all you want?” Lucifer asked suspiciously.

“Honestly? Yeah.”

Lucifer shook his head but didn’t argue. He didn’t want to know what your real motivations were. It was probably as simple as hoping for regular boons from the Princess of Hell; you were clearly just biding your time. Besides, if you didn’t want to redeem your soul, then you must be just like Alistair, a sadistic monster just waiting to see Demons repeatedly fail in their attempts at redemption.

Now that his curiosity was sated, Lucifer decided that he didn’t want to lay eyes on you again. You weren’t worth his time. Only Charlie was… Well, Charlie and Vaggie, because any woman his daughter loved was practically family to him. He was glad when the tour continued, leaving you behind to catch Nifty who was trying to pull a piece of fabric from Lucifer’s coat, muttering something about the ‘Ultimate bad boy.’

“Okay, I can get you the meeting,” Lucifer agreed, doing what he could to support Charlie’s dreams of saving her people, even though he didn’t think there were any redeeming qualities for any denizen of Hell.

It hurt him to tell Charlie that he wouldn’t be able to go with her to that lofty paradise, having been cast out; how he wished he could protect his daughter from those who carried out God’s will. Still, she never asked him for anything, and if this was what her heart most desired, he would do all in his power to help.

“Will you be okay?” He asked sombrely.

“I’ll be fine,” Charlie assured him, taking hold of his hands.

“That’s my girl.”

For a moment, it looked like Lucifer was done, but he paused, worried that this wasn’t enough to make up for the years he had been absent, leaving Charlie to fend for herself while he shut himself away.

“Is there anything else you need?”

Charlie couldn’t help but worry about her father. What would happen when he went back into isolation? He needed something to focus on, but… What was there for him when all of Hell was his prison?

She couldn’t help thinking about how little Lucifer thought of all the other citizens of Hell. If only he could see that they weren’t as terrible as he thought. Granted, they could be violent, and loud, definitely rambunctious, but these were his people, and he had to see that his gift of Free Will was a good thing, yet, if she said any of this, she was certain Lucifer would only laugh at her or tell her to get real while playfully pinching her cheek. There was no way that Lucifer would leave his home to hang out with any citizen of Hell.

Then it hit her. If Lucifer wouldn’t leave his manor to visit people, then people should be allowed to visit his manor. Or better yet, one person should be chosen to go and live with Lucifer so that he would learn just how good people could be, and Charlie knew just the person for the job.

“Actually, Dad, there is one more thing.”

“Name it,” Lucifer smiled, glad that his daughter wanted to ask things of him, as any normal child should want from their parents.

“I think it would be good for you to socialise, just a little bit.”

“Charlie,” Lucifer’s voice was strained at the thought of going anywhere else in Hell.

“I know,” Charlie reassured him, looking into his eyes; she looked so understanding that he relaxed slightly. Then, she continued in a more upbeat tone, “That’s why I think you should take (Y/N) to live with you, as your maid!”

She pounded her palm decidedly, much like a judge pounding her gavel.

“What? NO!” Lucifer sputtered.

You for your part, had seemingly been shocked into silence, watching the exchange uncertainly while Alistair grinned devilishly at you, and Angel Dust was holding in a snicker. Granted, you could have argued, but Charlie was stubborn, and she always had some kind of wild idea. Whatever she was thinking, you decided that you would go along with it; there was usually a method to her madness after all.

“It’s fine, Dad, (Y/N) doesn’t mind, right (Y/N)?”

You shrugged your shoulders passively, “I guess?”

“See? You should get to know your citizens, Dad. It will be good for you, I promise. They’re not all as bad as you think.”

Lucifer took one hard look at you. Honestly, he wished his daughter had picked the porn star or that psycho maid. You, as a very human-looking Demon, were a vicious reminder of his past mistakes. Still, he had told his daughter he would do anything for her, and he had already promised her a meeting with Heaven, and nothing could possibly be worse than that.

“Alright,” He agreed.

Then, he summoned a portal for you with the flick of his wrist.

“Good luck, kiddo.” He said to Charlie, and upon keeping a safe distance from you, he waited for you to step through the portal.

“Charlie, I’m assuming that you have a good reason for this,” You said before taking a step towards your newly appointed home, “Just call me if you need anything.”

With that, you were gone, followed closely (though not too closely) by Lucifer.

[kirain]

I don't get people who say Gale just whines about Mystra all the time. Like do they not realize WHY? Do they not realize there's a perfectly understandable reason for it!?!

Yeah, I don't get it either. Every character "whines" about someone. Astarion whines about Cazador, especially during the second and third act. Lae'zel whines about pleasing Vlaakith, especially during the Crèche mission. Hell, she'll even betray you if you fail her persuasion checks. Shadowheart whines about Shar and snaps at you if you criticize her goddesses of darkness. Then, if you prove she's being used, she falls into a deep depression and still whines about Shar. Wyll whines about Mizora and she's a constant presence in his life, to the point that she'll park her abusive ass directly in your camp just to torment him. If you romance him, she sees everything. She watches you 👀. He has no privacy. I think Karlach might be the only companion who doesn't constantly whine about someone, but she does complain about her engine a lot.

But these aren't criticisms. They're absolutely, 100% justified. Astarion has every right to whine. Lae'zel has every right to whine. They all have every right to whine. I just want to emphasise the hypocrisy when it comes to how players judge Gale. Every character has a dark past looming over them, our chatty wizard included. If you get mad at him, it's only fair to keep the same energy for all the other companions, because they're in the exact same situation. They're trapped. They're victims. They're suffering. Of course it's going to be a major talking point, especially when there's a person/goddesses/devil responsible for that pain.

Honestly, I think the only people who get annoyed when Gale talks about Mystra are would-be romancers who get turned off when he doesn't immediately throw himself at their Tav's feet. Have you seen the somewhat viral video where a streamer drools over him, but goes full jealous mode when she sees him conjuring the image of Mystra in his palm? It's funny, but she acted like they were already a couple ... but at that point in the game Gale didn't even know she was interested! I'm certainly no expert, but isn't that how relationships work? It's pretty hard to find someone who doesn't have an ex, and he only talks about Mystra in a positive light before you express interest. He's insecure and he feels lost without her, but if you romance him it makes him realise how messed up their "relationship" was in the first place. It's a healing process, not a competition. He never compares you to Mystra in any way other than to say that you're better, and that's only if you ask.

Gale is also arguably the most romantic character out of the bunch, so I don't know why people get so upset. Mystra, much like Shar, Cazador, Mizora, etc., is a constant negative in Gale's life and the reason he's dying. She could remove the orb with ease but she won't, so of course he's going to "whine" about her. He feels guilty at first, then he feels used and angry, and by the end you can either convince him to become her Chosen again (which is entirely on you, though you remain his priority) or you can convince him to reject Mystra and leave the crown in the sea. The orb remains lodged in his chest, because Mystra's too petty to remove it, but it becomes completely inert. Either way, he's happy and he devotes himself entirely to you, not Mystra.

[klausysworld]

u write angst so well ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 I'm thinking about one with klaus, but like, something that hurts but it's comforting at the same time

Like him and reader are in a relationship and he travels for some days, reader has depression and during this time she practically can't do anything, cleaning, basic hygiene, cooking, the basic stuff most people do without difficulty. And when he comes back he sees her in this situation and comfort her, giving her a shower, babying her, this fluff stuff

Klaus is one of my comfort characters and, by the way, the speeches he has about life and enjoying like actually helps me a lot with my depression. And u are gold 🥇

Never Alone

Y/n was a sweet girl. She always was.

Growing up she was often full of emotions, crying almost always whether it was because she was too happy or too sad or too angry. However every time her eyes would water, each time her bottom lip would quiver, one of her parents or aunts or cousins would sigh and tell her how annoying she was, how pathetic it was. Her emotions and feelings became ignored, assumed to be overdramatic.

So when she really had something worth crying over, nobody cared to listen. Not a soul would give her even a second. It didn't matter how many times she tried to seriously talk to them, explain she wasn't an oversensitive little girl anymore, she knew what she was feeling and what had happened to her. They didn't care to hear it.

Instead she learned to push any thoughts down or at least aside. If nobody wanted to listen then she wouldn't bother making noise for them to hear.

For a long time, she barely spoke a word.

Most of the time she didn't even really feel anything anymore. She tried to sometimes but she just didn't, couldn't. Life began to feel utterly pointless.

That was when she would spend days in bed, not moving to do a thing. Often she would hope that if she stayed there long enough, maybe she would disappear or if she slept for long enough, maybe she wouldn't have to wake back up. Unfortunately for her, neither of those things happened.

It was fate really that on one of the only days she got dressed and went out that she met Klaus Mikaelson.

Somehow she managed to be in the grill at the wrong time and managed to both witness and experience a supernatural attack. Klaus had thrown Damon across the room which caused him to slam into the wall beside Y/n. Her eyes were wide and she went to walk back out the door but Klaus sped over and grabbed her wrist she she could exit.

"I don't think so sweetheart" he chuckled, pulling her further into the room and she simply couldn't be bothered to struggle. He sat her down in a booth and gave her a fake smile, looking into her eyes and compelling her "Stay still and stay quiet" he ordered before going back and finishing off the rest of the scooby-doo gang.

His eyes flicked back over to the girl he had compelled. Her head lay against the back of her seat and her fingers picked at her lips until the rich scent of her blood reached his nose.

Klaus sped infront of her and he leaned down to pull her hands away, her eyes glanced up at him with anxiety swirling inside of them. His thumb swiped the blood away from her lips and he sucked it off of his skin with a hum. A slither of amusement shone through him as she shifted uncomfortably.

"You can talk now sweetheart, and move as she should please" he told her, interested in her reaction but she barely gave one.

"Can I just go home now please?" She asked, her voice weak and tired. His eyes narrowed briefly before he shrugged and pulled her up.

"Course you can love, come on lets get you back. Point the way" he murmured as he took her outside and placed her infront of him so that she may lead him.

They walked in silence back to her house. She hesitated to go in when the sound of her parents yelling could be heard from where they stood. Klaus observed as she wondered back into the home, her parents oblivious as she slipped past them and up the stairs.

Klaus forgot about her easily, out of sight out of mind.

But then she came into view again, she was sat on the edge of Wickery Bridge with her legs hanging off while she leaned forward daringly.

His brows furrowed and he made his way over. He took a seat beside her, letting his own legs dangle off as well. Again she gave no reaction to his presence, not even when his hand reached out to gently hold her hand. Klaus may not know her or necessarily care for her but he didn't want her life to be seen as a tragedy. He didn't want her to throw what she had away when she could still have so much more.

They sat in silence for some time, sometimes she would swing her legs and lean further forward to see the water below. Each time she shifted closer to falling his grip on her tightened and his gaze hardened.

Later in the night her phone pinged, Klaus glanced to see her mothers name on the screen with a message beneath telling Y/n that neither of her parents would be home for the weekend so she would need to look after herself. His eyes softened as he watched her read the message. Both brows rose on his face when without a care, she tossed the device into the river.

Klaus couldn't help the little laugh that left him as the water splashed and the light from the phone quickly sunk away from sight. His smile died away again as her gaze didn't lift from the deep flowing water and he hesitantly slid his arm around her to secure his hold.

"I'm not gonna jump" she mumbled but he still frowned

"I don't believe you" he whispered honestly and she hummed.

"You don't know me" she muttered and he tilted his head

"Perhaps not yet" he countered but she didn't offer a response. Klaus sighed softly and carefully dropped down from the edge and back onto the rode, his arm stayed around Y/n's waist so that he could pull her back to safety. She huffed in annoyance as he pulled her along with him.

"I don't know who you are or what you are or what you want.." she dragged and he hummed.

"My name is Niklaus, well thats what my father named me however I choose to go by Klaus, I have for centuries. I'm a vampire-werewolf hybrid and what I want is for my family to be calm and collected for one in the thousand years that I have had the privilege to know them" He grinned at her and she stared blankly at him.

"Okay" she mumbled, accepting her fate.

And from that day on, each time he saw her, he would talk at her and pull her along walks with him. He began bringing her back to his house and going through his plans with her, sometimes she would give advice or little comments to put him on a better track and he found her rather helpful when she wanted to be.

Klaus began to notice more and more about her as time went by. Like how she didn't eat much or change her clothes often. He seemed to have to wait forever outside of her house as though no matter what time he came to see her, she had always just woken up.

So he did what he thought would be good.

Klaus set her up a bedroom in his home with a wardrobe of Klaus and a conjoining bathroom which consisted of both a shower and a bathtub.

He caught on quickly that if he wasn't in the house with her then she didn't bother waking up let alone getting up and doing anything. So he started opening her curtains in the morning, gently waking her up and placing some sort of little breakfast item on her lap and a drink on the nightstand while he ran a bath. He'd sprinkle the bath-salts and pour the bath-soak before folding up a towel and hanging it over the radiator.

Then he would wonder back into her room and lift her up. He had discovered that mornings were especially difficult for her to do anything. She wouldn't talk and she wouldn't move. He was lucky that she felt guilty enough to eat the breakfast he fed her, though sometimes she couldn't physically do it and he would encourage her to drink a smoothie so that she had something healthy in her. But every day, without fail, he would carry her to the bathroom and place her onto the heated tiled floor.

"Can you do it yourself sweetheart?" he would ask each morning, his gaze soft and gentle. Sometimes she would be able to and would get undressed and bathe all by herself. Other times she could get undressed and in the bath but would ask him to come back and help her scrub her skin clean. And of course there were days where she just wouldn't respond at all and he would give soft kisses to her head while carefully, respectfully undressing her and helping her into the tub before cleaning her off and lifting her back out to dry her.

There had been one or two occasions when he had been in a rush or a stressed out mood and would end up being a little rude to her. Her eyes would just grow tireder and little tears would gather to them. Guilt would consume Klaus whole and he would push aside whatever was bothering him and apologise to Y/n while helping her get ready before giving her a soft kiss and promising he would be back to check on her.

For a while the most he would do was just a gentle peck on her lips in an act of comfort however as he continued to look after her, he fell in love with her. He would see how long one of his little kisses would last before she would pull away and he would test how far his hands were allowed to wonder before she would let out a whine and curl away.

Time went by quickly, their routine continued. Klaus would ensure she was up and okay, he would go out to fix his problems, return at some point in the day to give Y/n something to eat, sometimes she would have gone for a walk in the garden or be sat with one of his hybrid who were under strict orders to never lay a hand on her, then he would go back out and return a last time. Then she would sit in his art room with a book or a word search or something to occupy her mind while he painted and spoke to her about all the things he had seen that day and which of them he thinks she would have enjoyed. Often they cooked dinner together and then he would take her back to bed and watch a film before departing to his own room.

A few times he would fall asleep beside her with her head on his chest or in his lap as he leaned against the headboard. Neither ever complained or mentioned the arrangement so Klaus began sleeping there more often and would wake his love with a sprinkle of kisses across her cheeks until her pretty eyes would flutter open for him to see.

Things were going quite well until Klaus had to go away for a couple days to speak with some werewolf packs. He had been skeptic and concerned to leave sweet Y/n all alone but he also knew he had his hybrids and asked them to take care of her. He hadn't known that they were unsired at that point and completely forgot the girl even existed.

Y/n hadn't moved from the spot in her bed since Klaus had left two days before. It only took one glance for Klaus to realise this when he returned. His expression changed in an instant and he was pulling the covers off of her, promising her he wouldn't leave her again.

"It's all okay sweetheart, lets get you to the bathroom okay?" He whispered as he carried her in and sat her down on the toilet while running a bath for her to lay in. "I'm gonna get you some water okay?" he murmured before speeding down to the kitchen and grabbing some water and tossing some pasta into a pan with water and turning the stove on before flashing back upstairs.

He placed the glass down on the side and lifted her back up, pulled her clothed off and lowered her into the bath. His fingers gently wiped the tears away that had slipped down her face before pouring some of the warm water over her hair.

"My sweet girl" he cooed softly, his hands lathering her hair in shampoo. "You're going to be just fine" he murmured, rinsing her hair out and combing conditioner through the ends. He reached for the loofa and began washing her body gently, pouring soap over her shoulders and scrubbing it across her soft skin. "Okay sweetheart, stay right there" he mumbled, zipping back to the kitchen and pouring the pasta into the colander and then back into the pan with a jar of tomato sauce before grating some cheese over the top and grabbing a fork. He brought it up and put it on her bedside table before going back to her bathroom and washing the conditioner out before lifting her out the tub and engulfing her in a warm towel and carrying her to her room. He sat her down on the chair by her vanity and stripped her bedding off and tossed i to the laundry basket. Using his vampiric speed her put clean bedding on and then placed her on top the duvet with a kiss to her head. The towel was taken from her and one of his clean shirts was pulled over her head and he carefully pulled her arms through.

"Alright angel, there you are. Nice and clean my lovely, now we're gonna eat some pasta, okay?" he mumbled, placing her cushioned lap tray onto her lap and then the bowl of pasta and her glass of water. "There we go sweetheart" he smiled softly while stabbing some of the pasta onto the fork and hand feeding her.

Once she ate half of it and drank all of her water he took it away and pulled her onto his lap. His arms circled her and she hid her face in his neck before hesitantly whispering, "Klaus?"

"Yes love?" He hummed, stroking her hair

"I need pants" she uttered and he glanced down, remembering he had only half dressed her.

"Of course sweetheart, forgive me" he replied, quickly grabbing some panties and sliding them up her legs to cover her up. "Perfect" he smiled.

"Thank you" she muttered, looking up at him "I'm sorry" she told him but he shook his head.

"No angel, I'm sorry. I should never have left you all alone." he argued, a frown on his face as he kissed her cheeks and stroked her arms. "You feel like going outside today?" he asked kindly and she shrugged.

He nodded silently and carried her out into the garden, sitting her down on the soft grass so that she was surrounded by the flowers. He wondered over to the strawberries growing a little way over and picked a couple before bringing them over to her with a smile. She returned it with warmth and giggled when he held them to her lips for her to take a bite.

He sat down beside her and pulled her into his side. She lay her head on his shoulder and held onto his hand. Klaus rest the side of his face against the top of her head and watched at the trees swayed in the distance.

"I love you Y/n" he whispered, his voice delicate and airy as the words met her ear. Her hand squeezed his and he smiled.

"I love you too" she told him quietly and he kissed her head, she then lifted it to face him and pressed her lips to his. Klaus felt his expression soften as he kissed her back and interlaced their fingers. Their lips parted and he rest his forehead against hers,

"I'll never leave you alone" he told her.

"You promise?" she whispered, her voice shaky.

"I promise."

[hundredandsix]

loser!ellie headcanons

✩ I haven't been able to get loser!ellie out of my head so...here we go. I love that this is basically the same thing as canon!ellie. Slutty thoughts at the end so mdni (18+) ✩

✩ I don't think she would be the first to make a move. She would do little, very subtle things like hold the door open for you and then panic because oh no that was too much! You're going to know!

✩ She would think she's being obvious, and she is, but not for the reasons she believes. Let's just say her brushing her hand against yours is not nearly as obvious as the way she follows you around and the way your smile makes her face turn red all the way to her ears.

✩ Speaking of her following your around, she is so unintentionally clingy, even before you get together. You would get up to go to the bathroom and when she realizes where you're going, she tries to play it off like she wasn't about to trail after you. When you bring it up to her, she's genuinely confused because no, she is not following you around on purpose. She would never do that.

✩ It would take her forever to realize you're into her, but when she finally picks up on it, that confirmation gives her confidence. She wouldn't be as afraid to make her feelings more apparent.

✩ Has such terrible rizz that it somehow comes full circle and makes her even more charming.

✩ She LOVES bossy, confident women. Ellie is not afraid to ask for what she wants, and she is definitely not the type of girl that would have you ask the waitress questions for her. But there's something about a woman that could put her in her place that she loves.

✩ At first, Ellie is always rubbing the back of her neck or playing with her fingers when she talks to you. She doesn't want to look like a dork, but she can't help it because you make her so nervous.

✩ She's literally the definition of a golden retriever masc. She's got the beat-up truck (that's actually Joel’s, but you don't have to know that), an outrageous amount of flannels, and carabiners to provide it.

✩ When she gets really excited about something, her brain moves faster than her mouth. She'll fumble her words and stutter. She gets really annoyed when this happens and has to take a deep breath and start over.

✩ She loves to rant about her interests to you. Don't you dare seem like you're not listening because she'll get really quiet and upset.

✩ I could see her having issues with being treated like "the man" in past relationships. It confuses her at first because she wants to protect her partner and care for them, but she also wants to feel that same love and desire toward her. She would be so drawn to you if you don't treat her any differently because of the way she dresses or presents herself. Obviously, she presents as more masculine, but she still wants to be treated like a woman.

✩ She has sooo many playlists. There are some about you of course but she also has some that are so highly specific. When you go on your first date, she has a playlist for picking you up and two different ones for dropping your off, depending on how it went. She definitely has the classic "depressed gay longing" playlist.

✩ She has exactly two pictures on her Instagram. One is her and Joel on his birthday and the other is a selfie she uses as her profile pic for everything.

✩ When you follow her back on Instagram, she loses her shit and starts fantasizing about what it would be like to be with you. She's screenshotting every selfie you put on your story and thinking about them in ways that are not very appropriate.

✩ She's the queen of "this reminded me of you" and will bring you literal rocks because "it looks like the whale from the aquarium we saw last week." Whether it's modern!ellie buying you little trinkets or jackson!ellie bringing you things from her patrols, she loves seeing you in all parts of her life. Even if you're not physically there with her.

✩ I love the pages of her journal we get to see in the game because they show us peeks at her internal monologue. They show us she is still very much the eccentric, starry-eyed girl we see in the first game. She's learned to hide it. Maybe to fit in or maybe because she's learned that wearing your heart on your sleeve can hurt. It's literally canon that she writes about her romantic feelings in her journal, so I think she would have little drawings and blurbs about you. She for sure has a stupid grin on her freckled face as she draws the highlights of your eyes and maybe even the dip of your hips. It's the only way she can think of to get you out of her head.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

✩ She's an ass girl. She loves every part of you and will literally kiss your eyelashes if you let her, but she has to physically hold herself back when you bend over.

✩ I can't think of who posted it, but I remember reading something about Ellie fake fucking you when you're bent over and she would totally do that at the absolute worst times. You'd swat her away and look at her with a raised eyebrow, but there's no stopping her because she thinks it's the funniest thing ever.

✩ The first time you kiss is an out-of-body experience for her. She's panicking because she didn't think she'd ever get this far. She wants to touch you but she doesn't know where or what you would like, so her arms are stuck at her sides. She's 🧍until you grab her hands and move them to your waist.

✩ Has a huge obsession with your neck. Loves to leave marks if you'll let her. Will come up behind you and wrap her arms around your waist while leaving wet kisses all down your neck.

✩ I could see her wanting to be both the big and little spoon. It depends on the day and the context. When she's the big spoon she'll jokingly hug you so tight you can barely breathe and wrap all of her limbs around you like she's trying to suffocate you. When she's the little spoon, she likes it when you play with her hair.

✩ Is an absolute slut for you playing with her hair. She's an insomniac and it helps her fall asleep. When you're arm gets tired and you want to stop, she'll whine and pull your hands back to her head.

✩ She would be more comfortable topping and doesn't want to admit that she likes to bottom just as much. She's a service top that would do anything to make you feel good.

✩ Girly is so shy when she bottoms. She'll get all blushy and tries to cover her face with her hands/arms. She loves it, but it feels so foreign to her to have someone's sole focus be on her.

✩ Loves eye contact, especially when your mouth is on her. If you look up at her from between her legs while giving her head, she has trouble thinking straight.

✩ Likes it when you pull her hair during sex and will groan for you to pull harder. Just move her wherever you want her because she thinks it's the hottest thing ever.

✩ I think she'd use a strap if you wanted her to, but it's not her instinct to grab for that. She rather you come apart on her fingers or mouth.

✩ If you wanted to use a strap on her, I think she would let you, but again, it's not something she would ask for. To Ellie, It would be more about pleasing you than her.

✩ Absolutely passes tf out after sex. She always tries to stay awake, but as soon as both of you are cleaned up, she's dozing off and letting out cute little snores.

✩ In summary, Ellie is the switchiest switch to ever exist and I will be taking no criticism on this

[raineydays411]

My Father's Daughter

Part 9

Summary: You've been at the Wayne Manor for over a month.

In some weird way you understand Christine.

You understand why she tries so hard to spend time with you while you're in her home. Why she begs for you to get off of your phone and cook with her. You get why she tries to make the other kids be nice to you. Scolds them harshly when they make snide comments underneath their breath about you.

Truly, you do.

You just...genuinely don't give a shit.

You don't care that she feels bad that she abandoned you for a completely other family and you don't care that she feels like she's losing time to create a bond with you.

You did not care.

Really, you didn't.

"Um,kid... you know I love you but I'm really not that kind of doctor" Bruce Banner said awkwardly over facetime.

You sigh. "Yeah I know B. You were just the first one to pick up the phone."

"Ouch." Banner laughed, " you know, you really are your fathers child."

You smile, one of the rare times you actually did nowadays. " How is the old man?"

You haven't been able to call him since he was paranoid whoever wants you would track your phone calls and find out where you are.

"Your father is even more annoying now without you than he ever has been in my entirety of knowing him" Banner deadpans, " He misses you a lot kiddo, we all do."

You smile sadly, missing your family.

It was hard, seeing these people you barely knew, with a mother you barely knew, stuck in a house you barely knew.

And the fact that they feel like a family. They argue and play jokes on each other. They eat with each other every afternoon ( Bat activities at night), Bruce kisses Christine goodbye when he goes to work. It was so domestic in its weird little ways.

But you didn't fit in.

They laughing and the jokes stopped whenever you walked into the room. The conversations were stale.

It was depressing.

It's not like they ignored you, oh no. That would've been preferable.

No half of them trip over their feet to try and include you in whatever they're doing.

Dick will turn blue chatting your ear off about whatever he thinks will get you to open up to him and Christine?

She will bend over backwards, frontwards, and sideways just to get you to acknowledge she gave birth to you. Every night she comes into your room and tries to talk to you about your life. And every question is met with a dull answer

"So any boys that catch your interest here?" " I don't know, I can't leave the premises"

"Were you in any sports? You look like you'd be a cheerleader like your momma!" " I was in mathletes and debate like Pepper"

"You really are beautiful my baby" "Thanks, everyone says I look like my dad"

It really was a struggle to get you to open up. Almost everyone at the manor had a hard time even starting a conversation with you.

Everyone except of course Alfred and surprisingly Jason Todd.

Alfred won you over as soon as you moved in. He vouched for you when you needed time alone and brings you snacks>

Jason is a whole different story.

See, the reason why it's so hard for everyone to talk to you is because they all refuse to acknowledge the elephant in the room. They're treating you like you were some other orphan Annie they decided to adopt and you just have no family waiting and missing you.

Jason doesn't.

In fact, it was him who caught you trying to sneak out of the mansion the first week you were there. Instead of scolding you or telling on you, he took you out.

"A cap and sunglasses? Kid, that's not a disguise."

"What do you mean?"

He took you to a diner he frequents, a tour of the rooftops to avoid people, and to the safe house he took over from Bruce.

"Tell me about your life." He demands, not asks.

You smile and tell him about it. Your life growing up with the Avengers, school and what major you're going for, that brief fling you had with Pietro before you had to move to Gotham.

It was nice. To be with someone that didn't want to change you. He didn't try to force you into forgiveness and let you vent. He even gave some pretty sound advice.

"You know, at some point you are going to forgive her." He says ignoring your indignant stare, " You don't gotta be bestfriends with her or anything, but that anger is going to either slowly consume you or slowly go way. And believe me, you want it to slowly go way."

And he was right in some ways. The longer you're there, the less anger there is and the more hurt replaces it. It festers inside you like some disease. The symptoms slowly leaking out every time one of them calls her mom.

Every night she comes into your room and tries to pry into your life as if she didn't voluntarily leave it, you feel it.

Everytime you see her brush Cassandra's hair out of her eyes, or kiss damian on the forehead. It's the gentle way she smiles whenever she sees Tim hyperfocused on mission reports, and the way she gets so excited whenever Dick or Jason walk through the front door. Hugging them and chiding them for not visiting more.

It hurts you that they truly are a family.

And after a while, it gets hard for you to try and say that you truly didn't give a shit.

Because honestly, you did

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @stupendousnightmaretrash @opheliaas-stuff

[everythingne]

KINTSUGI - AKIN TO A PRIDE VERSE - MV1

When brought to panic by ruthless reporters, Reina snaps and hits a reporter out of instinct. In desperation, Hana flies Max to London help her daughter out of a depressive episode caused by Reina thinking that she's more like her father than she ever wants to be. And Max realizes some things about who you call family.

warnings: reporters grabbing reina, mentioned rumors of domestic abuse, mentions of child abuse and past/current broken metacarpal (hand) bones (wow look at me being sciency?), many assumptions about max's childhood, reina has a whole break down, reminder this isn’t a romance series, also btw I changed reina's age to make her 20 (legit go back and look LOL) and that totally isn't something for silly foreshadowing purposes no no, my comeback after going to college LMAO

I'M FUCKING SCREWED. I'm so fucking screwed. I can feel the anxiety coursing through my arms as I stand there, my teammates off to my side as we try and fight through the media pen. We weren't even supposed to be here but Ollie Bearman had decided he was bored and dragged me and Kimi Antonelli along to see some other drivers by wandering along the pit lane. We were all pretty civil with one another, save for one or two weird rivalries here or there, so we were quick to amass a group that eventually Trident broke up when they needed Richard back.

And then media had shown up, and we'd gotten quickly swarmed with no real way out.

Luckily, Kimi had called someone from the paddock to come get us and help us out so as we slowly pushed through the crowd as politely as possible, someone was actively coming to us.

And then I had gotten split off.

"Ollie!" I shouted, trying to grab his attention, but my voice is lost among those of the reporters who chase after him. How theres so many reporters here, I have no idea. It's not normal. And then again, nothing about this season really was normal because of the whole siblings thing.

"Miss Matsumoto!" someone shouts and a camera is shoved in my face, I try to keep a calm composure, nodding sharply in greeting as I try to continue through the crowd, "How are you feeling about your race tonight?"

"I think I'll be alright," I nod, pulling the rim of my hat down a bit further, "My team has grown a bit with Max's personal trainer giving us some tips for my physical training and it's been really interesting seeing how just changing my diet and training has made drive different."

"How is your relationship with Max?" Someone else shouts and a smile happily crosses my face, okay, I can do this. Just keep talking and just keep pushing forward. Do what Max taught you.

"He's been incredible, a lot kinder than people give him credit for." I make sure to point that out as I walk. A few more questions about Max are tossed my way, what exactly he's been teaching me (how to train for Formula One specifically, different ways to keep my brain sharp, physical training adjustments, how to cope with the drastic difference between F2 and F1, which both Logan and Oscar had already told me about), if I've met Kelly and Penelope (I have, Penelope adores me for some reason), who I've met in Red Bull (Daniel, Max, Christian, Geri, a few engineers, some other drivers who now raced for other teams, and such.)

And then someone asks something that makes my stomach crawl, "Can you tell us why we haven't seen your father in the paddock this season even though his racing company is one of your main sponsors?"

"It's only the third race. I'm sure we'll see him in Sakura." I smile, trying to keep my voice level, but the reporters have found something to latch onto. I took too long to respond.

"How is your relationship with him been impacted since moving in with your mother?"

"The timezones make it hard to speak, but he is still my father, so," I shrug, trying now a bit more desperately to shove through the crowd. They're not letting me go. I can hear Kimi telling someone to move, his voice is sharp and annoyed, but the reporter doesn't listen.

"Is it true your father abused you?"

"What?" I gape, but reporters flash cameras and shove over each other to get to me. My reaction fuels them.

"Is Project Matsumoto a real thing, or just a mimic of Project Verstappen?"

I can't even recover from the last question as I gasp out, "I'm sorry?" I don't even know what they're referencing.

"Did Red Bull pick you to be Max's sibling due to your similar childhoods?"

I can't get words out now, the berating is on, and all I can do is try and back away. I can see Ollie waving a hand, trying to beckon me through the crowd, and now FIA officials are coming to move the reporters away. It's a mess of shoving and screaming, people in my face as they repeat themselves until their voices pitch to shouts and screams. I can't move through because any step I take is immediately countered by a shift in the tide of cameras and voices, blocking my path.

"Was your fathers attitude is Sakhir last year reflective of your childhood with him?" "How did your parents divorce effect your racing career?" "Is it hard to be living away from your Japanese roots?" "Why did your mother accuse your father of emotional and physical domestic abuse when they divorced?"

A reporter steps forward and grabs me and I rip back from him. Ollie's shoving a reporter to the side, trying to grab me before he's closed off by the ocean of people around me.

"Is the rumor of your fathers mistreatment of you true?" The man asks again, trying to grab me and I stumble back in a panic. My hat is pulled off by him instead, and I just let it go as I bring my arms to my stomach and wrap around myself.

"Please! Everyone, wait--!" I cry out, the obvious panic in my tone making my skin flame with embarrassment.

"Answer the question!" The same man shouts, shoving a reporter aside as raising his hand with his microphone. All I see is the raising of a fist in the shadow of my father, and my brain reacts before I can really think about what I'm about to do.

Crack!

I gasp as soon as I make the connection. It's hard. Max's training paying off well. Ollie's infront of me, grabbing my wrists and gently pulling me to the side until he can get me out of the crowd. Prema's around me in seconds, closing me off as I stare at my hands and feel the blood seeping across my knuckles.

I'm so screwed.

They get me into the paddock, voices over my head and slipping through my ears. I'm sat in my drivers room, Ollie and Kimi being peeled from my sides to go off and get ready for the race. I can't hear, can't think, a constant ringing ruining any conscious thought. My knuckle is split. My ring finger. I stare as one of the medics begins to clean up the wound.

Not even the sting can pull me from the thoughts racing through my head.

I hit someone. Struck a man out of fear. He had grabbed me, knocked my hat off, I had every reason to hit him. Yet, I had hit someone. I could hear my father's voice ringing in the back of my head, warnings of inheritance and passing down genetics I had shaken off to make myself feel better.

I was not my father. Never would be my father. I was so sure of that. Until today.

When the medic lets go of my hand and sets it on my lap, I feel fear strike my bones. And when René comes to get me, my silence is terrifying to everyone. I stand silent, straight faced, not even cracking a smile. The cameras watch me twice as much, I react a thousand times less.

Max is sitting on his bed, Penelope happily napping on his chest as he watches the pre-race bullshit for Reina. He had off today, oddly enough, and Kelly had gone out to do some sort of PR management event which left him to watch little Penelope. No problem at all.

The pre-race is what he's expecting, he can see Ollie dragging Reina and Kimi around and amassing a small group of F2 drivers outside of Trident. He laughs when Kimi hoists Reina into his arms, loudly announcing her by her nickname of Little Lion and making the rest of the boys cheer. What he isn't expecting is when they break up from the rest of the drivers to return to their paddock. Ollie's leading Kimi and Reina back when they get cut off by a mass of reporters. F2 hadn't been prepared for their usual amount of media to almost multiply by ten, and apparently it had been causing all sorts of issues.

Like this.

The questions are easy enough. He feels a weird swell of pride when he notices how easily Reina answers the reporters compared to before he'd started teaching her some media techniques.

And then the questions shift.

He can see Reina's panic after the first question, actually he sees it as soon as the word 'father' is brought up. He sits up a bit, gently readjusting Penelope as he turns the TV a bit louder. The camera swings away for a moment to show Ollie and Kimi pause when they realize Reina's not there, and their quick turn around before the camera swaps to show Reina.

She looks horrified. Max feels a burn in his chest as he sits up and leans forward, almost willing Ollie through the crowd. He can see multiple Prema people attempting to shove through, but every attempt is in vain. Nothing is working. It's a Sisyphean task.

Then the reporter tries to grab Reina and Max has to hold himself back from getting up and shouting at the TV. Not that it's gonna change anything. Reina steps back, and her eyes are darting around, trying to find a weak spot to escape. She can't, Max realizes, as the reporters close in.

The next thing he sees is her arm jut forward, a loud crack sounding over the speakers. His jaw drops, the sight of Reina hitting someone so foreign to him. Silence falls over the crowd as Ollie grabs her and pulls her away, someone else shouting for her to come on as Prema swarms her in a protective bubble. The feed cuts there and leaves Max on a cliff hanger for thirty minutes until they are just about to start the race. The anthem is playing. But, the Reina he sees on the screen is not his Reina.

She's silent, stone faced, frozen still and almost robotic. She moves soft as a dancer, but her gaze is sharper than an ice skaters blades. She wins, sure, but he can't get her haunted look out of his brain. She carries it even through her podium, not even able to smile when she hoists the trophy above her head.

The call from Hana the next day is expected. The invite to their flat in London is not.

"She just needs someone who understands what she's going through." Hana had pleaded on the phone, "I know it's wrong of me to say it, but you were treated a very similar way when you first got into F1 and especially when you started winning. You had a similar past, you both have similar struggles. She needs your help, Max.”

Max had wanted to suggest a therapist, a psychiatrist even, but he knew Reina would rather throw herself in front of a Le Mans car, probably the Porsche 936, than talk about her problems. Which left the question of if she would even talk to him.

But he tells Christian and Geri what's happening for a second opinion, and he is told he should go.

So he's on a flight to London three hours later, about a weeks worth of clothing packed haphazardly. He thinks he forgot a toothbrush and aftershave, but he doesn't care to check. After careful conversation, Hana had agreed to let him get a hotel close by, so he could give Reina space. Hana had been so certain Reina needed him, but Max wasn't even sure if Hana had tried to reach out to her daughter herself. Apparently Reina wasn't eating, doing her training, or even the sim. She had been in bed except for when she was forced out, and luckily there was a bit longer break than usual, it gave Max time.

He gets to the flat around eleven in the morning, twirling the keys of his rental car in his hand. He tells Hana he's coming inside and she gives him the code to the lobby and to the flat. The second one isn't needed, the woman is waiting for him in the hall.

“Thank you so much for coming out here.” Hana sighs when she sees Max and he’s shocked to see the usually classy woman in such a disheveled state, he gives her a hug in greeting but allows her to ramble through it.

“I’m sorry that I’m such a mess, I just—Reina hasn’t done this in so long it’s genuinely frightening to see it again.” Hana wipes her face, sniffling as she shakes her hands to sort of shake it off, “I’ve been trying to get her to do anything and she just won’t, she’s usually twice as active after a race, not sedimentary! I don’t know what to do—“

Max cuts off her rambling with a soft, “Hey, relax. You’ve done all you can. You go and take care of yourself, I’ll talk to Reina.”

It must be what Hana needs to hear (it’s something he’d been told by his mom when comforting Victoria growing up) because Hana barrels into his chest in a hug, thanking him probably thirty times in a row before stepping back and letting him in.

The apartment is gorgeous, Max can’t lie. It’s got big windows and tons of natural lighting, bright bold colors in decorations he’s sure Reina picked out. Which, he guesses, makes sense, because it will become her apartment soon. Hana points him in the direction of Reina’s room, but seems so genuinely distraught she can’t go near.

And this is where he’s stepping off the dock.

He hesitates to knock, but does eventually. It’s soft enough he’s sure Reina won’t hear it, but then he hears the most broken, teary and bitter, “what?” from the other side of the door.

“It’s Max.” He presses his hand to the handle, eyes staring through the wood as he leans in to the door itself, almost as if trying to see Reina through it, “can I come in?”

There’s a long enough pause he thinks she’ll say no. But theres a soft, "okay."

He pushes the door open to the darkness of Reina's room. One Himalayan salt lamp is on in the corner, providing a slightly warm glow to the room. The blinds are drawn tight, blackout curtains hastily thrown over them, and Reina's head is the only part of her body that's visible under her mass of blankets. Her room isn't quite messy, just cluttered with partially empty water bottles and a plate of cold breakfast. He remembers this. The shutting yourself off part of this all, of being raised like they had. Or, the lack thereof.

"Mornin'." He says simply, walking over to sit on the edge of her bed. Reina blinks a few times, like she can't even believe Max is there, and slowly sits up.

"Why are you here?" Her voice is groggy but not in the sense of just waking up, it sounds more like shes been sobbing for hours. A claim backed up by the redness of her swollen eyes and sniffly nose.

"Your mom called." He doesn't sugarcoat, never has, "I saw the punch. What did the FIA give you for that?"

“Five second penalty. Kimi was behind by six. Didn’t matter.” She grumbled, looking over at him from where she’s bundled up. She looks miserable, and though Max knows he’s started to crack through to get her to talk, he needs to keep trying.

“Did they fix your brakes?” Max asks and Reina nods, then sits up and sighs.

“I know you didn't fly all the way from Monaco to London for small talk. What’s wrong?” She asks, scrubbing at her red cheeks as she crosses her legs and grabs a large plush Hello Kitty and buries her face in it.

“Your mom said you’re not handling it well,” Max hums, leaning back on his hand and looking over at Reina as she curls a little bit tighter around her plushie.

“I hit someone.” She whines, “I hit him.”

“He grabbed you.” Max says, looking over at Reina and letting out a tiny non-committal hum, “the reason the FIA gave you such a little punishment is because it’s self defense.”

“But Max, I hit him.” Reina emphasized and Max blinked. What the fuck was she getting at here? His confusion must be all over his face because she shifts slightly closer and he can see where she'd split one of her knuckles open. Hana hold told him the finger was technically broken, but Reina refused to wear her brace on it. Something about having already worn one in the past. Not that Max would know. But when Reina goes to ball her hand into a fist, he notes her pinkie and ring finger don't close. Daniel's injury rings in his mind for a second, but he shoves the thought away as Reina continues to repeat herself, more broken, more panicked.

“Reina," Max attempts to soothe her, scooting a a bit closer to place a hand on hers, hiding the injury from her sight, "what are you getting at here?"

"I..." She stammers, eyes darting around his face, and then she huffs out a question he's not expecting, "Are you afraid of being like your father?"

Max blinks. The silence encompassing the room for a long while before he sighs out a soft, "Yeah, terrified."

"Me too." Reina nods, flexing her hand again. Max watches the way her eyes dart down to her injury and he realizes she's trying to cue him in. It's like a puzzle, and he has to put together the pieces to get the picture. She doesn't say anything next, leaving Max to figure it out himself, so he just watches Reina.

She's fidgety, fingers tapping along her injured hand, but he notes she keeps poking her pinkie. She'd injured her right ring finger, not the pinkie, so he's not sure what she's trying to do. She's not concerned over her current injury, but the past one. His eyes trail along her clothing, her mothers old NASCAR jersey, the rest of her hidden under mass amounts of fuzzy blankets. Her hair is braided back, greasy, and knotted, her skin is dull but still clear save for one or two pimples in her hairline. She wasn't taking care of herself, he could see that, it was a classic depressive episode.

Max meets her eyes and sees shes trying to pick him apart too.

But why? What did she need to know? Max was pretty open with her, he'd told her more than he told most people. Geri had encouraged it, hell she'd even asked if she could tell Hana some stuff from when he first got to Red Bull. The first time he'd snapped at Christian, expecting to be shouted back at, but was shocked at his calm tone. The first Christmas, when he had no one to go to, and Christian invited him to their home and though Max was slightly out of place he'd stolen the attention of the kids in a heartbeat. That was the day he'd become almost like a fifth kid to the Horners. Geri had asked if he was comfortable talking about his childhood with Hana, and he had, though it was a difficult conversation. She'd asked wonderful questions about healing and growing up and moving on, asked how much moving to Monaco and being on his own at eighteen had helped. Being on his own was freeing, he'd said that much, and though he kept some parts out he knew Hana could piece it together.

Hold on.

Max had snapped because he thought Christian would be like Jos when he'd failed to overtake on a turn.

Max hadn't had anywhere to go that Christmas because it was the first time he was celebrating without any family in the same home.

Max became an unofficial Horner because his own familial issues.

Max had moved to Monaco to get away from his father.

Reina was afraid to be like her father.

Reina was always looking to Max for validation, even with how short they had known each other.

Reina's injury, from what little Max knew, was caused after she had crashed out of a race--in heer drivers room. The last time she'd seen her dad after she'd left their house in Fukushima.

Shit.

"Reina." Max starts, not sure if he even knows how to approach this. He'd been the messy one, the one to snap, the one to shout, the one to lash out. It was evident of an 'avoidant attachment style' from his childhood or whatever the hell that meant, therapists always confused him with technicalities. Max wasn't gentle, he wasn't soft like this, he was hard edges and half-broken promises. How does one avoid their own sharp edges when trying to handle something so soft? How can Max be sure he won't break Reina?

"What happened to your pinkie?" He asks, gently prodding the knuckle with his own. Reina meets his eyes. He can't find her in her own gaze.

"Boxer's fracture." She murmurs, "Like Daniel's."

"I know that, but how did it happen?" He pushes and when Reina freezes up, he whispers, "Listen, it's just us right now. I'm gonna keep you safe, yeah? Like a real brother would."

Max had enough experience protecting Victoria.

"My dad." Reina starts, then swallows and closes her eyes. She leans forward, seeking out Max, and he moves so she can rest her head on his shoulder, staring down at her hands covered by his, "Last year, when I crashed out towards the end of the season. I was living with my mom by then, so I never really saw him. I didn't even know he was at the race. I got to my drivers room and we got in an argument. My mom tried to split us up and he slapped her so hard she fell over. I pushed him to get him to leave her alone and..."

Reina struggles to find the words and whatever she had gone through is a thousand times worse than Max could've ever expected.

"He grabbed me by the wrist, I grabbed a door to get away and he slammed it on my hand. Broke my metacarpal in two places, I needed surgery, so I never finished the season. Finished thirteenth."

Max is still. So still he's not even sure he's still breathing. Reina sniffles, and Max feels her tears hit the back of his hand.

"You don't wanna wear the brace because it takes you back." He says and Reina just lets out a soft hum. He doesn't know what to do. So, he does what Geri had done the few times she'd had to comfort him. One arm around her shoulders, the other on her head, and he pulls her taught to his chest to cradle her there.

The sob she lets out shatters his heart and he tries to pull her impossibly closer. They're flush to one another, theres no more space to close, but he still tries as Reina breaks and shatters in his hands like fine china. He attempts to piece her back together but there's not enough of him intact to repair her. Max, for his benefit, has dealt with Penelope's tired melt downs and so he gives Reina a waterbottle and wipes her tears, lays her down admist her blankets and tucks her in tightly. He sits on the floor by her face, running his fingers through her hair as best he can, gently running his thumb along her shoulder.

He can tell shes not just crying because she'd hit someone, but theres more to it. And an hour or so later, when the tears subside, she finally opens her heart to him.

"I hate my dad." She whispers after maybe five minutes of silence, no longer broken by her sniffles.

"I do too." Hate his dad? Hate hers? He's not sure. But he stands up to open her curtains and blinds, hands itching to do something rather than just sit silent. The noon sun warms the room almost instantly, and Reina lifts her head to shift into the sun. He turns and speaks as he bends down to pick up a stray bottle, "Why do you hate him?"

"Just... everything he put me and my mom through." Reina sighs, "There's a lot he did I can never forgive him for."

"What did he do?" Max sits down again and Reina reaches out to his hand, which he obliges, and she pokes at his fingers.

"When I was growing up, I started karting in Japan with my father. He wanted me to race rally cars since I was born, even with his obvious disappointment I wasn’t a son. I competed for the first time on my fifth birthday, and won. I got scouted that day and my dad completely changed. It went from a little hobby I could have to a future career, especially when my mother learned she was infertile after my birth." Reina speaks monotonously, eyes distant as she recalls, and though Max has read up on her past he knows he's getting a new raw look at her life.

"My dad finally got me in rally when I was ten, a year before the divorce. I did it for three years. The worst three years of my life." Reina shifts so she's laying on her back, looking up at the ceiling and avoiding Max's eyes, "everything that my father had just simply said became physical. Every single time I made a mistake, I was hit. Every time I talked back, ignored him, walked away, did anything he deemed to be incorrect, I was hit. Sometimes just a whack to the back of my head in annoyance, most of the time closed fists. The only thing I was allowed to do was race, extracurriculars, and school. And that includes sleeping, eating, showering, and such."

"On my thirteenth birthday, my mom came to visit us in Japan for a race I had in Fukushima. I finished second because of some dirty play and my dad was so angry at the company for not catching that, he took it out on me completely. My mom and her boyfriend at the time saw the entire thing, a huge fight broke out, the cops got called, it was a whole thing.

"My mom sued my dad for only my custody, no payment, nothing. And he dug his own hole, the court found out he was spending all the money my mom sent for me on himself, I had saved years of evidence... my mom ended up getting full custody without a challenge, and a payment that amounted to all her payments of child support and then two years worth of payments of my fathers child support in advance. That all happened around the time I switched to Formula racing. The entire time I've been racing Formula I've been living with my mom and my dad has been sending child support."

"When he got... aggressive with you, was it always physical?" Max hums and Reina shakes her head. Max slowly starts to undo one of the braids to redo it, trying to ignore the greasy feeling on his hands, and she leans into his touch so much he has to pause as he feels her face rest against his arm.

"No, it was just shouting until I got into rally and then every once and a while he’d hit me. And the most he did before I got into rally was slap me once when I was like, six? But it was mostly just him ignoring me or screaming at me, or making me race to exhaustion." Reina sighs as she then rolls to curl up against his side and Max adjusts so that he's half laying down with Reina curled up on his chest. It's similar to the way he'd gotten the youngest Horner kids to sleep when he'd visit or babysit over the years.

"My father is one of the worst people on the planet," Reina stares out the window. Max hums non-committedly, moving a little bit closer as Reina speaks in the most dead tone he's ever heard as she says, "and I have always been his favorite punching bag."

"I was my father's favorite too." Max admits and Reina nods.

"What was he like?"

"Just a lot more manipulative and way less physical. A lot of it was just him ignoring me, leaving me places, shouting at me, pressuring me. A lot of manipulation when I'd call him out on it." Max hums, finding the braid he'd half undone to fully pull it out. Reina grabs a brush off her nightstand and hands it to him so he can start to brush out her hair. It's weirdly remnant of Victoria and Penelope. Reina hums and as Max brushes out her hair, he feels the way her body relaxes.

“So did you pick me or did Red Bull?” Reina asks maybe five minutes later and Max hums, fingers finding loops of her hair to slowly braid it again. Practically hearing Geri’s voice instructing him on how to braid because it was ‘something good to know for Penelope.’ He was glad he had listened to her. It was a good thing to know.

“They told me I was gonna train you, then told me I was gonna train Ollie.” Max hums, “Ollie’s great but… I dunno. I just knew I should mentor you. Call it divine intervention but I knew.”

“Im glad you chose me.” Reina murmurs against the fabric of his hoodie and he realizes how odd this moment is. He’d packed up in thirty minutes, gotten on a two hour flight, and spent an hour coaxing his mentees trauma out so he can help her. He could’ve just said he was busy, and yet he’d already given so much of his heart to Hana and Reina he knew he couldn’t just abandon them. Reina needed him just as much as he needed her.

"I'm glad I did too. And... listen, Rei, you hitting this guy because he scared you doesn't make you an abuser." Max watches as Reina picks her head up, resting her chin on his sternum to watch him, "and Reina, you being afraid of being like your father tells me you will never be."

"But I just... I hit someone like he hit me and it was just an echo. He always told me I would grow up to be like him." Reina closes her eyes and Max takes a hand to cup her face, running his thumb along her wet undereyes.

"But you hit out of fear, not out of anger or with the intention of abusing someone, thats the thing that will never make you like him."

Reina nods, and Max knows it'll probably take him the whole week to convince her of that. But, as Reina lays her head back down with a soft thank you, he feels like he's done enough. Only twenty four hours ago he had Penelope sleeping on his chest. Now Reina’s in the same spot, her hand reaching out to cup the setting sun with her injured hand.

“Kintsugi.” She says softly, then sits up. Max watches her, head tilting as she moves to her closet and swings the door open. Grabbing a stool, she clambers up to the top shelf and starts rustling around. From his vantage point on the bed, Max can see deep scars running the inside of her leg and wonders briefly where they’re from before Reina settled back in front of him on the couch. She sees him looking and swallows, digging something out of a box from her closet.

“Also from my dad.” She says, eyes flickering up, “same day my mom was in Fukushima.”

“Ah.” Max nods, and lets Reina continue to rustle. He wants to ask questions, but he’s curious as to what she’s doing. She sets down her brace and a thing of gold paint and hands a brush to him.

“What is this?”

“Okay. It’s kinda stupid because this is no where close to what you’re supposed to do, but hear me out,” Reina raises her hands in defense. Max let’s her have the floor, he’s not gonna judge her.

“Kintsugi, it’s a Japanese art of repairing broken pottery or dishes or whatever with urushi lacquer mixed with powered gold or whatever and I don’t have lacquer and this isn’t technically broken but!” Reina pauses her rambling, chews her lip, and looks away from Max and to the window, “When I had my first hand brace, my Jiji—my grandmother, she painted it with this beautiful gold design. She told me it was my kintsugi. That I was broken, and that she was mending me. And… she’s always been my biggest support. Besides my mom, Jiji sacrificed so much for me, almost all her salary went to helping me get into F4 because my dad stopped helping me pay for racing until he started sponsoring me last year. And… Kintsugi is our thing. If she breaks anything she waits for me to fix it.”

There’s something hanging here, something so vulnerable, so Max asks with plenty of pause to show his trepidation, “Why did you give me the brush, then? Where’s Jiji?”

“In Washington.” Reina hums, “And… you… you’re a really big supporter to me. And you mean a lot to me, Max. I’ve only known you for half a year now but… you’ve helped me with a lot. And you sacrifice a lot for me. You flew all the way here to help me because my Mom asked. And don’t think Christian didn’t tell me about you trying to anonymously sponsor me.”

Max laughs softly, “Guilty as charged.”

“I want you to paint something on it. Anything. I have a—“ Reina starts to dig again, “a gold marker too. I do this all the time with things I break—like my phone cases or my hair ties. This is a whole bin of knockoff Kintsugi.”

She hands Max the marker and then rolls off to the side to curl back into her blankets, but rests her head on his thigh. Max sits and stares at the brace in his hand, rolling it around in his grasp as he thinks of what to write. There’s about a thousand things that ring through his head, and none he can settle on.

And then he gets an idea.

While Reina watches him focus, the golden light of the sun haloing him, she wonders briefly if she’s found her own form of Kintsugi in him. Sure they weren’t perfect, and both deeply troubled in their own right, traumas rooted deep within them, but they had each other and that was what they needed.

And Max knew he found Kintsugi in Reina.

Reina sits up when Max hands her the brace back, making an odd face when she sees its written in Dutch.

“laat u niet definiëren door uw naam. Do not be defined by your name.” Max says simply, and Reina looks up at him and tears prick in her eyes immediately. When Max helps her put it on, he adds a bit more gold flare to the boring black brace and smiles.

“Now you can wear it, yeah?” he says, and Reina leans up to wrap her arms taught around him. He laughs softly and hugs her back, letting her bury her face in the side of his neck.

If she sobs, he doesn��t comment, just lets her lay there until she’s run dry.

A week later, Max is unpacking in Monaco when he notices something new in his bag. He finds a small little keychain, a little blue ribbon tied to a clasp he knows he can snag on his keys. It’s in Japanese, but the note attached makes him smile a little watery smile.

‘Max,

Thank you. That’s all I can say. For everything you were supposed to help me with, and everything you chose to do on your own. I hope I can return the favor.

Reina.

ps. it says ‘do not be defined by your name.’ just like my brace,’

The keychain hangs off the zipper of his work jacket instead. And if anyone asks—and Yuki is the first to ask the meaning since he knows what it actually says, he simply smiles and says it’s a gift. No other explanation needed.

Except for when Geri asks, and he tells her the whole story, and then Christian ‘yells’ at him for making Geri cry.

reinamatsumoto made a new post!

liked by gerihorner, logansargeant, maxverstappen, and 458k others...

reinamatsumoto: [come back soon, big brother]!!

viewing translation from japanese

tagged: maxverstappen

misshanatanaka: [so sweet! glad having him by helped sweetheart!!]

user1: CAPTOIN HAS ME IN FUCKING TEARS

user2: MAX IS HER BROTHER !!!!!!

logansargeant: did our sushi date meaning NOTHING.

⤷ reinamatsumoto: GOD YOU WANT A POST FOR FUCKING SUSHI??

⤷ logansargeant: YES?

⤷ oscarpiastri: please rei he's pouting.

⤷ reinamatsumoto: fine. anything for my favorite white boys.

⤷ user6: my favorite prema survivors <3

user3: CRYING OVER HER CALLING MAX HER BROTHER. OH. IM SO NOT WELL.

user4: so are we gonna talk ab her punching a reporter? bc shes hot for that.

oscarpiastri: PERONI??? FOUL.

gerihorner: so so so cute!!!!!

⤷ reinamatsumoto: thanks mom!!!

⤷ maxverstappen: thanks mom

user5: logan crying in the comments is so real

yukitsunoda: [max is a big softie!]

⤷ reinamatsumoto: [I KNOW !!!]

taglist (thank you for your support!!)

@vellicora @justsomejess @struggling-with-delia

[hurts2think]

Hey! I love your Red x reader one shots and I have such a huge crush on Kylie rn.

I was wondering if you can do an imagine where fem!reader is going through something (you can make it up) and she’s not eating or sleeping and she thinks no one notices but Red does and she comforts reader?

You don’t need to if you aren’t comfortable w it tho!

♥️Red Hearts x Reader♥️

Reader pronouns: She/her

Pairing: Red Hearts x Fem!Reader

Plot: Reader has been dealing with a lot and falling behind on many basic necessities like eating and sleeping. She hopes her girlfriend doesn't realize, but it gets to the point where it's impossible to avoid the conversation.

Word count: 2.1k

Extra: I want to put a CW for Eating disorders. I never use that term in the fic and the fic has nothing to do with weight or body issues, just depression. I wrote this from my own experiences so it's not like I'm writing about something I'm ignorant on. There was a lot of projection in this but I tried my best to keep it tame. Please don't read this if you're sensitive to depression or disorderly eating habits. 🫶 This is also a vulnerable thing for me to write about so please be kind.

Studying for things like quizzes and exams was never something that came very naturally to you. You always found yourself very distracted and never to stay on one topic at the same time. So you thought, maybe having someone to study with you could help keep you on track and actually get some work done.Unfortunately, you picked the wrong person to study with.

You felt that the obvious choice was your girlfriend, Red. But unsurprisingly, she's not the most efficient studier either. Really she only accepted your invite as an excuse to hangout with you, you could tell by the way she kept trying to start unrelated conversations, and the way she'd slouch and groan everytime she had to write something down instead of listen to you talk.

"Okay, we've been working for literal hours. Let's go get something to eat, I'm starving." She complained, leaning back in her chair and tilting her head back, "There's a new café down town not very far."

You close your notebook and sigh, “If you’re hungry just run down to the dorm kitchen and garb something.” You say, looking at your bored to death girlfriend.

She lifts her head and gives you an annoyed look, “Oh come on. Are you seriously not hungry? Let’s just go out. We haven’t gone out in forever." She groaned.

Red leaned closer to you, grabbing your hand as if trying to convince you that a date in the middle of your study session was a good idea.

How could you refuse that? The flirtatious smirk she gave you was almost enough to make your heart explode, you really couldn't say no, "Fine." You sigh with a small smile.

With a hop out of her chair, Red grins, "Great. And I hope you have money because I lost my wallet." She winked, clearly that was untrue.

You chuckle, "Hmm. Interesting you always lose your wallet right before we go out," you chuckle. You didn't actually mind paying for her, it was actually something you loved. You loved spending all your time and money on your wonderful girlfriend.

----

The two of you walk to this café that Red was talking about. You weren't really hungry at all. Actually, you haven't been very hungry in awhile. Your relationship with food had become a little weird recently.

Not for any reason someone might assume. It's not like you were trying to lose weight or anything, you just hadn't felt the means to eat. You never spoke about it and mostly often lied about when you ate so that you didn't worry your girlfriend, but it was getting harder to hide it because of the physical effects it was having on you.

The two of you sat across from each other at a little circle table. The café had a couple other people in there, mostly working on their laptops or reading. It was a cute café, very calming and sweet smelling.

"So, what're you feeling today? Coffee? Pastries? You liked those weird fruit pastry things last time, they might have something like that here," Red said, gazing at the menu that sat on the wall above the workers.

You pull out your own laptop and a notebook because you still planned on getting at least some work done while you were here, "Oh. No thanks. Get what you want, I'm not hungry." You open your laptop before pulling out your wallet and tossing it to Red.

Red caught the wallet before giving you a weird look. She leaned over and shut your laptop, forcing you to look her in the eyes, "I've been with you all day and you didn't even eat the cookies I brought. How are you not hungry?"

You just shrugged awkwardly, "I ate before you came over," you lie. You hated lying, especially to your girlfriend. It made you feel so guilty and sick. Or maybe you felt sick from your horrible eating habits.

"Bullshit." Red said plainly, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

"Excuse me?" You ask, a little astonished at how quick she was to accuse you of lying.

Red glares, "You've been weird recently. You've been insanely tired, skipping lunch while claiming you'll eat after school, everytime you stand up you get concerningly dizzy, what's up with you?" She asked. Obviously she was worried but her words came off as stern so that you had no room for lying to her.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, looking away from her. "It's nothing, really, just order something. Don't worry about it." You attempt to brush it off but you have a feeling she wouldn't let it go so easily.

"You know, I'm not stupid, just admit you're having an issue and I can help. Let me help you." Red insisted, reaching over and grabbing your hands from across the table.

She was clearly worried and only wanted to help you, which is why you felt bad at your growing irritation of the subject, “Can’t you just leave it alone? I really don't feel like talking about it.” You pull your hands away and cross your arms.

Red resisted the urge to role her eyes at your refusal to talk, but she tried not to argue, “Just— just please tell me what’s wrong?” She tried making her voice sound sympathetic and you could tell she was really struggling. She was never very good with talking about feelings despite how much she cares.

"Just drop it. I don't want to talk about it so I won't. I don't have to tell you everything. it's not even important." You snap, before immediately going quiet. You didn't mean to get angry, really, you didn't. You weren't even angry at her. Just... Frustrated.

Red looked as if she wanted to argue back, you could see in her face that she was not happy, "Fine. Whatever."

The way she spoke that made your heart ache. You felt stupid for snapping like that when she was just trying to make sure you were okay.

----

The two of you pretty much sat in silence the rest of the time at the café before she decided to go back to her own dorm instead of finishing with the studying.

You still felt awful and could tell Red was still upset. But you just kissed her goodbye and went back to your dorm.

The whole encounter made you feel like abandoning your work and just sleeping for the rest of the day. You really were tired. You've been so tired all of the time.

So tired and depressed. All you do when you get to your dorm and sit there with your own filthy sadness. Thank goodness no one shares a dorm with you or they'd probably be annoyed by how much you drag yourself around and sulk.

Usually when at school you put a smile on and get all happy with everyone else but that's been especially hard recently. The only thing you can really ever feel like doing is sitting in bed and staring at the ceiling. Stare and let your head be flooded with the un-happy thoughts that plagued you.

You felt guilty for being so depressed. You had great friends, you went to a great school, and had an even greater girlfriend, how could you still be sad?

While you thought about all of this you started to drift off into sleep. It was still early in the day but you couldn't stop yourself from it.

----

You were suddenly awakened by the sound of a hard knock on your door. You sat up and got out of bed, unaware of what time of day it even was. It felt like your room was spinning.

Your head was light, your vision was blurry, your stomach felt like it was rising to your throat and you were about to puke it up but couldn't.

You stumbled towards the door and leaned on it for a moment to try and regain yourself but you couldn't. There was another knock on the door and the vibration of it ran through you, making you feel even sicker.

Finally you opened the door to see Red. Well, kind of see her, your vision kept focusing and unfocusing, but it was enough to recognize her.

Before she could even say anything, you felt your entire body about to collapse. Red was quick to swoop in and catch you before you hit the ground.

"Oh my gosh are you okay? What happened?" She started asking you a hundred questions at once but you could hardly bring yourself to answer.

Clearly she was panicking but once she realized all you could do was mumble out responses, she picked you up, holding you bridal style and carrying you over to your bed. She laid you down and gave you a moment to regain yourself.

"Wait, here, I might have something that can help." She said, digging through her bag and pulling out a water bottle and bag of chips.

It was hard to think at the moment or even say anything but you could feel the guilt rushing back to you. Feeling like you were a horrible girlfriend for making the person you care about most worry so much.

She opened the bag of chips and water bottle, shoving them in your hands. Just the idea of eating thing made you want to vomit but you had a feeling there was no getting out of this.

So you took small bites and small sips of water. Your hands were shaking as you held them, feeling like everything weighed ten pounds heavier.

After what took a little too long, you finished the bag of chips and the whole water bottle. You could feel yourself feeling a little better, obviously it didn't immediately fix all of your problems, but just having something in your body made you feel at least functional enough to stand up and have a conversation.

But when you tried standing, Red just shoved you back onto the bed.

"You need to stay there and rest." She demanded, "Now... Can you please tell me what's wrong?" This time her voice was filled with genuine worry and sympathy.

You look down at your hands, unable to look her in the eyes. You suddenly felt your own eyes fill with tears, as if it was all about to coming pouring out at once, "I just... I dunno... I haven't been doing well recently..." You start off, choking on your words a little bit.

"I haven't been able to sleep or eat well, I haven't been able to get out of bed other than for school, and everything is just so heavy," you say, trying your hardest to prevent the tears from spilling out.

Red gives you a worried look. She decides to carefully get in the bed with you, sitting next to you and wrapping her arms around you, "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Because I didn't want to bother you." You reply, slowly resting your head on her shoulder.

"Bother me?" She says, looking almost confused, "Your issues aren't bothersome. I just want to make sure you're okay and I want to help you every way I can."

"I know..." You mutter, still feeling guilty. "I'm sorry."

"Hey! You don't have to apologize." She says, narrowing her eyes, "It's not your fault you feel this way. But I am here to help you. I can help if you'll let me."

You finally look her in the eyes, gently grabbing her hand, "Thank you."

"Of course. I always love to help my beautiful girlfriend. I'll help you stay on top of your sleeping schedule, I'll force your to eat breakfast and lunch at school, I'll come over for dinner..." she smiles, leaning over and placing a soft kiss on your lips.

You can't help but smile as she kisses you, once she tries to pull away you bring her back for just a second longer in the kiss. Then you finally let go, "I'm serious. Thank you. You're so... Amazing. I love you so much... I'm sorry it's hard for me to talk about my problems. I trust you... I just hate seeing you worry."

Red rubs your shoulder in comfort, "Me worrying just means I care. And you're lucky. I don't care about very many people," she teasingly nudges you, "But, I'm you're girlfriend. It's kind of my job to make sure you're okay. It's the least I can do after all of the amazing things you've done for me." She smiles, "I love you too..."

The sweet words made your heart melt. Your face heated up slightly at the affection. Sometimes it was hard for Red to be affectionate but you could tell she loved it, so this really was a treat.

You couldn't believe you had such a perfect girlfriend. The very thought of her made you feel a little better no matter what. You really were lucky to have someone like her.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for making a joke about colors?

(This is in no way going to go the direction you think it will)

I (17F, though I was 16 during the time of this) used to have an online friend (23F) who I was really close with for about a year or two, and we'd talk and roleplay about a lot of stuff. Generally, our interests in most stuff aligned, and it was just great! I felt really happy having someone who would talk to me regularly, and there was a total lack of drama.

But the issue started when I noticed how she was lacking in responses in regards to /my/ ideas that involved /my/ characters, yet sent me really long (and, I'll be honest, stupid and ooc) plot ideas with her own characters. She never seemed to really give me any kind of reaction to my excited rambles about an idea. And I'll mention this here, I have ADHD. It's not like I was constantly spamming her, but whenever I sent ideas, she'd just be like "that's cool" or "do what you want". I really felt like she wasn't contributing to anything unless it was about HER. She'd even send completely horrible ideas like (this is just a random example of MANY things that irritated me) "what if my male human oc had a kid with your vampire oc and had to drink blood to sustain the child but refused to because he's a vegetarian?" And I was just like. Why are you so content with letting a literal baby die for the sake of oooh meat Bad™.

And after a while and a bit of arguments here and there, she also (though she claims it was unintentional) dismissed or put down my interests. We talked about ocs in love, I mentioned the Titanic dancing scene, and she immediately goes "I don't know about that, but Titanic sucked as a movie". I randomly mention that I've got back into Gravity Falls and ask her if she's seen it, and she says "No, and the only things I have was that girl being annoying." I inquire if she knows Captain Underpants, and when she says no, asks if she's interested in getting into it, to which she demands, "What is this about? Are you trying to get me to voice my issues so I can upset you and you can get mad at me?" As if the previous instances of HER putting down MY interests was ME GOADING HER INTO IT! Seriously, I can't even.

There were other issues that are equally as ridiculous and mainly involve me being just slightly childishly naive and her turning it into a Full. Blown. Fucking. Fight. And it wasn't even two-sided! I was never really ever mad. It was literally just her stupid anxiety and overthinking ruining our friendship. She often also tried to express how much she hated herself and demanded things like "am I being manipulative? Am I toxic? Does everyone hate me?" during these times, which was very frustrating, because she WAS being toxic, but due to her depressive tendencies, I couldn't even say that because she'd go off and do something dumb like harm herself. And like... I do believe people start to greatly mature in their late teens, but they ARE still teens. And I was 16. I couldn't understand why someone in their twenties was being more immature and stupid than me!

Anyway, our 2-year-long friendship slipped into the trash bag when one of our mutual friends posted "hi" and she (the Bad friend) replied "hi" with red, white, and blue hearts. Jokingly, I responded, "FRENCH HEARTS!" and she said "Dutch hearts." To which I said, "do u know how many flags r red white and blue".

She messaged another of our friends (who, may I add, is closer to ME and therefore told ME all about THIS HOE'S insane rants) and started raving in all caps about (and I directly quote) "WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE ATTITUDE?!?!" Like, are you kidding me? That's your response to a lighthearted joke? To express dramatics and claim I was being an "asshole"? After I heard she said that to our friend, I blocked her on my main, and she proceeded to block all my accounts from all her accounts. And when she dm'd another of our mutual friends asking, the mutual calmly replied that she had acted immature. And then she had the audacity to go and say "it's actually you being immature because you only listened to one side of the story !!1!1!"

Like, girl, how do you expect me to have sympathy for your "tendencies" and "fear of abandonment" when you're the one pushing people away? I once implied she ought to get diagnosed for autism, because her lack of understanding things and how to not upset people in convos was really upsetting.

Sorry if this is bad. Idk guys. AITA?

[toxicanonymity]

Hey :)

Possible ask for you : i can't stop thinking about something that could annoy Raider. Since the beginning she comes almost everytime when he fucks her. I see this as a pride for him (it assets his dominance). In "if you want him", he asked her if she was wet.

And i was thinking, what if one time she wasn't wet ?

So i was wondering why she wouldn't be, since she is since day one...

Maybe she could be in a depression phase (because of her captivity ?) and maybe she could think about Jack. Not in a way where she'd misses him, but because he was killed in front of her. Her situation can certainly lead to a depression. Depression can lead to least horniness. And raider could be annoyed, at first, and worried. But i don't know how he would handle it. Overstimulation? (hard way lol)

I don't know if it works (it's a hard balance because we can't let him think that she's "useless") for what you're planning, but i'd love to see him lost, if reader wouldn't want him, for once

Have a nice day :)

Raider goes down on you

450 words | Raider Joel Master List

A/N: Very interesting thought. I think his sex animal instincts might kick in for a. . . pragmatic approach.

WARNINGS: I8+ oral F receiving, unsafe P in V

Let's say you're face down on the bed in the middle of the night. You wake up, which wakes him up. He's lying to your side. . . Once he shoves his hand between your legs, he doesn't find the usual pool. His brow furrows as he probes for it.

"What's wrong?" You don't say anything. He turns you over like a toy that needs its batteries checked.

He tries again from the front. "Talk to me."

"Nothing, I'm sorry," you shake your head. "I had a bad dream." His face softens, but he's still a little disturbed. He wedges your legs open and kneels between them. He gets on his stomach and puts your legs over his broad shoulders. He plants his face and starts slowly, looking up at you, trying to gauge your reaction.

The sight alone is one to behold, his back and shoulder muscles hulking, his face determined but also a little concerned. The scar on his eyebrow. Soon he's completely overtaken by desire. You taste so good, smell so good, feel so good on his tongue, he forgets why he's even down there and just goes to town. Eating you voraciously, moaning into your folds, nosing your clit, shoving his tongue inside you like you're an oasis in the desert.

He looks up and sees you arch your back a little with a whiny look on your face and he whispers, "yeah," because he knows he's turned you on. He prowls back up your body. He looks down between your bodies, lining his cock up before he shoves into you. And yeah, he turned you on enough, it feels good, but you still have a lot on your mind. You try not to show it. He starts slow, watches your face, and pounds you. You don't look at him.

Let's say you can't come and he doesn't say anything, but you get the sense he's disturbed. Yeah, he considers forcing you to come, but when you insist "please come, I want you to come," he does. His massive pulsations inside you are almost enough to send you into your own climax if you weren't so in your head.

. . . . .

After he's come, he starts to worry about you. He recognizes that you have a lot of bad things to dream about (even if he doesn't quite face the fact that a lot of it's his fault) and maybe not enough good ones, like maybe when he's not there it's kinda boring and you can get to thinking too much. He doesn't know what he can do, but it stays in the back of his mind, and maybe the next day he invites you to shooting practice with him to use your gun. Maybe once you have a holster he invites you to go for a walk. Like, "now that we're both armed, we can go out more."

[telvess]

Record of Ragnarok: What kind of pet do they have?

I'm like Tesla 🤣

Jack

I once read that people who are broken or haven’t experienced much love as children tent to choose animals that are less popular and sometimes seen as bad omens, such as black cats or ravens. So I see that Jack has a rat as a pet. They are intelligent and very clean animals, with an unfairly given bad reputation, and I think that suits Jack very well.

Nicola Tesla

Hear me out, Tesla is the proud owner of a turtle. There's a joke going around turtle owners that every time the turtle does something - such as yawns or falls asleep - you take a photo or video of it and happily show it to everyone. This is Tesla. The entire science crew has a mailbox full of this kind of spam, and their all sigh whenever Tesla sends them a new video of his pet doing absolutely nothing.

Poseidon

I think he likes animals in general. He despises humans and most gods for not behaving as they should, but animals are themselves. They do what is expected of them, they are excellent at being themselves, if that makes sense. So Poseidon probably has a dog that he has trained very well. The dog listens to all commends and generally behaves very well.

Hades

It’s canon that Hades has a pet - cockatoo. These animals require a lot of attention from their owner, which makes sense because we all know how lonely Hades is. He is literally playing chess with it! The parrot probably knows some fancy words like „magnificent” or „mellifluous”, and a whole bunch of wine names that it randomly says. Adamas, by the way, puts some effort into educating the bird too and incidently teaches it how to swear.

Beelzebub

Given how little he cares and how little he CAN care, the only option he has is fish. He gives it a good tank, he remembers to feed it and that’s it. They just exist. Damn… how depressing…

Loki

Two options. First: SAND ANT FARM. He watches it from time to time, mocking the ants for poor direction choices or just messing up with them for funnies. Second option is ferret. Loki finds them both annoying and interesting. There’s no boredom with them.

Ares

Ares thinks highly about himself, after all he is a part of the most powerful pantheon and the son of Zeus. He believes that he deserves only the best, which mean that whatever animal he gets, it will be a pure breed. If he chooses a cat or dog, it will receives a golden pillow to sleep on, a silver food bowl, the fanciest toys, the best caretakers, and… „the best owner”.

Thor

Thor has a cat. Most of the time they simply exist in their spaces and don’t interact. But every now and then a cat comes to Thor and demands a scratch, which Thor gives without hesitation. Loki once overheard Thor talking to his pet in those rare moments. Surprisingly, he speaks in a very gentle and caring tone, almost like mother to her child.

Hajun

He probably has a tank full of dead fish. Never cleaned, never fed, never bothered.

Lu Bu

Lu Bu has a pussy. He had no intention of having a pet, so the cat had to choose him, and Lu Bu obligated. He gives it lots of scratches and plays with it. Lu Bu is unfazed by the claws. Hearing her meow when he isn’t close puts him in a fighting stance. Nobody hurts his cat girl.

Hermes

Budgies! The guy has a lot of responsibilities, he's probably the last to fall asleep and the first to wake up, but he still finds time for his melodious pets. They always get the best snacks and for some unknown reason they become very excited when Zeus is around.

Göll

She has hamster, as small and cute as she is. Göll tries very hard to provide it a happy life, which probably means she’s trying too hard. She asks all his sisters for advice, and knowing how many siblings she has, she probably ends up with very conflicting opinions.

Zerofuku

Definitely rabbit. They are both full of energy, do not pose a threat and just enjoy themselves on a clearing somewhere.

Buddha

He doesn't have a pet, but he occasionally looks after Zerofuku’s and Göll's pets. He complains that he doesn't have time and that he doesn't care, but in the end he has a great time with the rabbit and hamster.

Noah

I think he ends up with a pigeon. He just feeds it from time to time in the same place and slowly tames it. Before he knows it, the bird becomes a new part of his life. He tells it about his problems, about Luna, Jack, Mother Goose and Shakespeare. This pigeon has therapeutic properties.

Qin

Definitely a husky. I see just two idiots keep talking to each other and arguing over nothing. The more the emperor demands something, the louder the husky's tantrum will be.

[yourmomxx]

GIRL CRUSH

❧ summary - you are in love with jj, but he only has eyes for someone else

❧warnings - signs of depression, disassociation and withdrawal, all the angst, unrequited feelings, this is written kind of abstract, I think?

❧word count - 4.7k

❧based on this request

songs ❧girl crush - harry styles ❧she - dodie ❧astronomy - conan gray

❧main masterlist

“Because what’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?” ― James Patterson, The Angel Experiment

Kiara Carrera was the most beautiful girl you had ever seen.

It was a fact almost as certain as the continous circling of the earth around the sun.

She was captivating, really, and it was such a strong pull toward her it almost confused you.

Her hair was dark, curls silky and defined, in a way that yours could never be. You wished, sometimes, you had her tan skin, smooth and soft, the object of all desires. The way she walked was enchanting, floating just the right amount in her step and never too harsh. You could drown in the deep brown of her dark eyes, expression of empathy and compassion, sincere in a way you only wished you could be.

You were in love with Kiara Carrera, because who couldn’t be, with her angel voice, and her confident attitude, and the way she smelled of flowers, and beach, and the rising sun on the first summer day.

Kiara Carrera had once in your presence been compared to a descendant of the Greek goddess Aphrodite, which, in all honesty, you couldn’t do anything else than agree to. You would know, you were one of her best friends, you spent almost every waking minute with her and the rest of the pogues, and yet you never grew tired of the spark she had that made her glowing golden.

The amount of guys you’d had walking up to you, to ask for her or about her, and how could you blame them, you understood. But you turned them away.

You would like to say it was merely for Kiara’s gain, because you didn’t want one of those not-serious screwboys in her near, but it wasn’t, you weren’t considerate like that, another trait that she had you forward in.

But Kiara Carrera, beauty incarnate, the princess of pogues, living evidence of relations between the rich and the poor side of the island, had only eyes for one specific person herself. A boy that made her smile in a way that made her forget the entire world around her, and also shake her head in exasperation when he talked sometimes.

The lucky guy’s name was JJ Maybank, and he was her best friend, and, in a way, also yours.

JJ admired Kiara. In that way, he was no different to the other guys that kissed the blessed ground she walked on. He loved the way she paced around the room when she was contemplating hard, or the way the wind from over the sea blew a stray curl in her face.

JJ Maybank was more than his love for Kiara Carrera, though. JJ was kindness, and consideration, and he was the overcome of a terrible childhood, and he was the love he held for his friends.

In that way, you couldn’t blame Kiara for being infatuated him. Because who wouldn’t be? Thinking about it like that, they fit for each other perfectly, like two pieces of the same puzzle.

There was no space for you in-between. There never had been.

It had become a tradition for you and JJ to meet up in-between lessons to talk about the most mundane things, gossiping about annoying teachers and getting at least one intelligent conversation for the hour.

It was mostly JJ doing the talking, though, oftentimes. You didn’t mind. Letting JJ’s voice wash over you like the silent lullaby of the waves on a windy day had turned into a necessary comfort you couldn’t imagine to miss.

You hadn’t enjoyed school for a while now. There were too many people cramped up on too little space for your liking, and everyone wanted to talk about everything, and it demanded your concentration on things you found yourself not caring about or interested in.

But you met deadlines, and you delivered the grades, so that meant you were alright.

If the breaks you spent in-between classes leaning on your locker, talking to JJ - or mostly listening to him - were what made things worse or better, you didn’t know. And even if you had caught yourself glancing at his quickly moving lips for far too long than a friend should every once in a while, then you didn’t allow yourself to think about it.

The cheaply painted, red metal was cold against your cheek, as you did your best to not bend over and throw up that sickening feeling that’s been sitting heavy on your chest the entire day.

It was Thursday. Maybe. Might be Friday. You didn’t really remember it all that much anymore, it all was blurred. JJ was talking about a party he went to, where he met someone who told him something, that’s what your mind managed to register.

JJ didn’t enjoy spending time with you anymore. It was clear to you, clearer than freshly polished glass windows.

He hasn’t said it like that, of course.

JJ would never, he was too nice.

But you weren’t Kiara, and JJ would much rather spend time with her than with you. You knew that, it was not hard to tell.

All at once, JJ suddenly stopped his rambling mid-sentence.

You didn’t need to see the way he glanced over your shoulder as he suddenly stood taller, or hear the silk voice travel down the hallway, calling out his name, to realize who had shown up.

You recognized it in the change of his eyes when he looked at her.

Kiara swerved a younger student as she headed straight up to JJ, hugging him, and greeting you with the most blinding and sincere smile you’d ever seen someone wear.

She made it so easy to love her that you felt terrible about wanting to hate her.

Those thoughts were changed when she looped her arm around JJ’s and fixed his hair.

JJ’s hair didn’t need fixing, that’s what you thought. He was beautiful when his blond strands were tousled, boyish, and it added up with the mischievous glint that swam in his eyes.

You were being unfair now, you knew that, Kiara wasn’t the bad guy here, she’d merely pushed a strand of JJ’s hair aside as she talked to him.

JJ’s skin was surely burning at the spot where her skin had touched his.

You knew yours was.

JJ’s voice would be different as well, when he spoke to Kiara.

It was light, in a way that you knew you could never make him sound, because you had no way to make him feel free, and careless, and cared for, not in a way you used to, when he was still only friends with her and you were allowed to be selfish enough to keep him to yourself.

The sickening feeling spread again. From your chest, down to your stomach and in your throat, quite like the exact opposite of the warmth that seeing JJ once had given you, and you almost laughed at the irony if you weren’t in so much pain.

JJ waved his hand at you. “Hey man, see you later, I told Kie I’d walk her to class.” You blinked.

Kie. He liked to call her that. A nickname. He’d never given a nickname to you.

You nodded. “Yeah no, sure. See ya.”

JJ disappeared into the crowd, Kiara somewhere next to him.

All of a sudden, you didn’t know if the world had been this blurry the entire time.

The next time it happened, was at the beach.

You were walking next to JJ on your right side, Kiara was occupying your left. You were on your way together to John B’s cabin to meet him and Pope there, and had decided to take the long route next to the raging sea.

Wind was carrying the smell of salt in your direction, and JJ’s tanktop was tugged around all over his body.

In hindsight, you should have known. In hindsight, if you had spun the thought only a bit further, you would have known that there would not be a way for this to work.

JJ and Kiara were two forces pulling each other near, nothing that only possessed human strength could put itself between them, it was no use, not even to try.

“And I mean, the Carsons got this huge boat-”

JJ gestured around with his hands when he talked. You leaned slightly away as to not get in the way of his movements.

Kiara was focused on him when JJ spoke. Her body subconsciously drifted nearer.

You leaned slightly away so she wouldn’t bump into you.

JJ made a joke.

Kiara laughed.

She doubled over and leaned into JJ. Her hand found his arm as she slapped him playfully. JJ tucked his head down. Blushing, probably.

This time, the sickening feeling started in your stomach and chest already.

They were walking together now, right next to each other. Their joy-bounced steps carried them further than yours, weighed down by longing, and caring, and guilt, and you fell back.

The only thing you could do was follow their already vanishing footsteps in the sand.

When you arrived at the cabin, and Kiara and JJ greeted your friends a whole lot of feet before you did, John B raised his eyebrows at you, questioning.

You ignored his suspicious look.

Pope seemed to hold you just the tiniest bit closer when he hugged you.

The feeling spread out to your head.

The last time it happened was at a party.

One, that, in your defense, you did not even intend to show up to. It was a house party, which was unusual enough as it was, which pogue was there you could meet that had enough space in their house to throw a party and enough determination to clean it all up afterwards?

But, apparently, John Laren had moved new on the island, and wanted to make his presence known as of that event. Where middle-aged people brought casseroles, cupcakes or batches of brownies, eighteen year-olds threw massive parties with drugs and alcohol for everyone that was underage and younger.

As mentioned, you hadn't planned to go. In your current condition, a party was really the last thing on your mind.

Unfortunately for you, though, you had not calculated Pope Heyward into that idea.

That prick.

"Yes, I'm coming!"

You rushed to your front door, almost tumbling over that goddamn couch leg that you had wanted to rip off for years now, and quickly swung open the thick hardwood, before the person on the other side could get a chance to pound against it as if their life depended on it again.

"Geez!"

Before you were even able to realize who stood before you, Pope had already shoved you by the chest, and into the house again.

The door slammed close again.

“You are going to that party.”

Your mind wasn’t working right now.

“What are you- Hey, come back!”

But Pope had already made his way up the stairs. You turned and ran after him.

By the time you arrived on the upper floor, Pope was already standing in your room, ready to open the closet doors. You jumped forward and slammed then closed, guarding them with your arms spread like something sacred.

“Slow down,” you said. Pope rewarded you with an impatient look.

“What are you doing here?”

“You know what i’m doing here,” Pope shot back, no hesitation.

You withstood the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’m not going to John Stewart’s,” you clarified.

Pope did roll his eyes.

“His name is John Laren,” he corrected you. “John Stewart is on reality tv.”

He grabbed you by the shoulders, and easily maneuvered your non-resisting body to the edge of your bed.

“And you are going,” He stated. He pressed you into the mattress.

“Now sit down and be quiet, and let me pick out something for you to wear.”

Pope whirled around and ripped the closet doors open. He began rummaging though the different shirts and pants that were hung up inside.

“I don’t understand why you so desperately want me to go,” You said, swerving right to ditch an orange shirt that came flying at you just in time.

“Because,” Pope drew out the word slowly, as he concentrated on a black tank top in his hands, “you’re sulking.”

He walked over and thrusted the top into your grip.

“And when you’re sulking, I’m sulking,” he continued. “We’re twinning.”

“But we’re not-“ Pope raised a warning eyebrow. You raised your hands in defeat.

“Alright, alright.”

Pope patted your cheek.

“That’s my boy.”

A second of hesitation, but Pope sighed and the mattress dipped as he sat down next to you.

"Look, man," He started, hesitantly. "I like to think that you don't think I'm stupid."

You raised your eyebrows. Pope continued.

"And, considering I don't need glasses, unlike - some of us-" He took a deep breath.

"Man, I see the way you look at Kiara."

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline.

The way you looked at- "What?" You stuttered out, not even trying to hide how baffled you were.

Pope shook his head. "My bad, I should have worded that differently. I mean the way you look at Kiara, when she is around JJ."

Oh.

Oh.

Ah.

Your body felt slow. This made way more sense.

You didn't even notice how you were slowly turning away to not have to look Pope in the eye.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't-" Pope scoffed. More at himself than you, really.

"I know we have that rule. No pogue on pogue macking? But seriously, man, I should be the first person who knows what it feels like to be in love with their best friend. And honestly? I can't blame you."

You felt a comforting pressure on your shoulder when Pope placed his hand there.

"I want you to know I'm not judging you. Don't feel bad about ... what you're feeling. You know?"

You loudly breathed in, not even knowing what to say. What could there be to say?

Pope stood up again. His hand slid off your shoulder slowly. He didn't hold your silence against you. You silently thanked him for it.

"Look, that's the whole reason I want you to go to this party. You need to loosen up a little, drink away your thoughts, get some groove in."

Pope demonstrated his words by shaking his whole body from one side to another like a dancing snake.

The corners of your mouth cracked into a smile at that. Pope saw it as a win, turned back to your closet again, grinning.

You sighed, suddenly reminded of why he was here in the first place.

"What would I even be doing there?"

Pope shrugged, still rummaging through all your clothes, not caring about any mess. "Go out. Have fun. Have some drinks. Have some boys, have some girls, whatever you're feeling tonight."

You ignored him. "Are JJ and Kiara going to be there?"

"No," Pope answered shortly and pulled out cargo pants from the closet. "They both have plans."

"Together?"

Pope threw the pants at you. "Here you go. Put it on, fifteen minutes, downstairs." He waved himself off. "Actually ten, you're not a teenage girl. Let's go!"

And just like that, he was out the door. You regarded the clothes in your hands skeptically, the black tank top and dark green cargo pants, and couldn't help but notice, how Pope had not answered your question.

Jason Lawrence was a Pogue, whose lifestyle drifted more toward the direction of Kook. There had been a few of them over time, the line between too poor and too rich wavering, and they were trapezing on it.

Whether John Lance invited all entirety of the cut to show off, or to really just throw himself a good old welcome party, remained unclear.

In all honesty, you didn't really care that much. The only reason you were here was because of Pope, and the second he dared to take his eyes off you for more than five minutes, you would be gone like the wind.

Multicolored lights flashed over the ceiling like the spotlights in a club. Most people that were running around with red solo cups in their hands, you recognized - from bonfires or other house parties.

In a way, the entire cut was just like a really big neighbourhood.

Your eyes searched over the crowd of people, desperately looking for a quiet space next to a wall, hopefully, and you politely denied a blond girl with just the necessary amount of covering-up clothing, when she offered you a drink.

"Come on, man, at least pretend like you're having fun!"

Pope appeared next to you out of the blue, and if the loud music hadn't swallowed his equally yelled words, you would have flinched.

You shot your friend a grim look.

"That would be lying, and I don't like lying."

A sharp pain erupted in your chest when Pope stabbed his finger right above your sternum.

"See, I know that's a lie," He said. "Because I know you like lying, I saw you lying often, so what you just said -" He raised his poking finger, "-'t was a lie."

You leaned closer to him and furrowed your eyebrows.

"Dude, are you drunk already?" You asked loudly.

"We've barely been here for half an hour!"

Pope shrugged, shoulders and hips moving to the rhythm in a way that was definitely not correct by beat.

"Chester from the mini bar did a mix for me!" He explained, hand shooting out to point you in the direction where he had come from.

You raised your eyebrows. Chester from the mini bar might have mixed Pope's stuff a bit too well. That lightweight couldn't hold his own on a normal day with a beer.

You smelled the cup in his hand and couldn't fight off the way your face twisted in disgust.

"Dude, what is in there?" You took the cup out of Pope's hand, which was relatively easy, he wasn't all there with his hand anyways.

Pope drew his eyebrows together and pulled his lips into a pout.

"I was drinking that," He complained. You shook your finger in front of his face.

"I think you've had enough, honestly."

"Give that-" Pope burst forward and grabbed for your hand holding the drink, but you pulled it out of his reach just at the right time and raised your hand in the air the highest you could.

Additionally, you raised yourself on the tips of your toes.

Pope tried to stretch himself, but it didn't budge, so he shorthandedly pressed his thumb into the crook of your elbow hard, forcing you to bend your arm down.

Your friend let out a victorious laugh as he reached for the cup that was now almost on eye-level with him, when you made a not thought-through decision on the spot, raised the cup to your lips and downed its contents in one sip.

The liquid went down your throat like cold fire.

Your entire inside squirmed, and your face twisted into a grimace of pure disgust.

"Hey!" Pope threw his hands in the air.

"You're drinking, man! You're having funnnn!"

You wouldn't have put it like that, maybe. But when Pope grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you with him, through the crowds of people and to the shining neon letters that said MINI BAR, you just followed him.

You were having fun. It was almost an hour later, or maybe two, might have just been a half, you didn't really know. Or care.

The solo cup you were sipping held your fourth drink tonight, or your sixth, or your third, you had absolutely no idea.

All you knew was that it burned in your throat like any good liquor should, and that it made you feel good in a way you hadn't felt for weeks now.

The way you weren't quite in full control of your limbs was a side effect you chose to ignore.

The air was vibrating. All colors were more saturated than the first time you came in, they flickered behind your eyelids even when you weren't looking.

Hot bodies of multiple people crowded together, somewhere a table was playing beer pong, while the music roared through your blood stream and pushed arenaline with it.

It felt good. You felt good.

Why hadn't you done this much sooner, Pope was right. And alcohol was great. Like, actually.

The tunes drew you in. Masses of people, it felt, were moving in the same way, all together.

You closed your eyes, and just let it go.

No thinking about the right way to move your lips, the sweat slowly dripping down the back of your neck, or how the alcohol in the cup wasn't quenching your thirst, just worsening it.

It didn't matter. It was as if the music had manifested itself physically, and was moving all of your senses totally on its own.

You felt light, a feeling you had missed over the last few months.

Your chest was free, you could breathe.

The air was full of euphoria, it tasted of glee.

Suddenly, there was a sound that stood out, something that didn't fit the atmosphere.

You blinked your eyes open just the slightest bit.

There, just a few feet away from you, you made out a familiar arrangement of blond strands - some dark, others lightened by the burning sun out on the waves of the sea.

It was a magnetic pull, you couldn't do anything against it if you wanted to. You hadn't really been in posession of your own body since you had taken that drink from Pope.

"JJ!" You heard yourself call out.

Your friend turned around to you, and God, his eyes were beautiful. The string of colorful lights was perfectly illuminating the small streak of skin that was laid free beneath the unbuttoned top of his shirt, a brown one, lazily tucked into casual jeans.

He looked good.

And would you love to blame that thought on your currently dosed state.

So you did.

Your hand slapped on the place of his shoulder, just where his neck met his chest.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, loudly to overcome the sound of the music. "Thought you had plans."

JJ grinned. You mimicked it. Pope had once told you about the mirroring statistic with people one liked. You thought it was bullshit.

"Made a last minute change!" JJ yelled back, and even in your current condition you noticed how his gaze flickered, searching for something that wasn't you in the crowd of people.

"Me and Kie made a stop here before ending our date!"

You blinked.

“Huh?”

You were quite sure JJ repeated his same answer to you. But you didn’t really know, because your ears felt stuffed.

Me and Kie made a stop before ending our date.

Me and Kie. Our date.

You stumbled back.

John B had dunked your head in cold water once to sober you up. This was worse.

Your chest felt heavy, pressed together in a camp handle.

Your hand dropped from JJ's shoulder. He didn't notice. His eyes kept scanning the crowd.

You backed away. You needed space, just some way for your chest to expand and let air into your lungs.

Your back hit another wall of bodies. Everything was so tight around you.

The air didn't feel euphoric anymore, it felt stuffed, and thin, and heavy.

You needed to get out of here.

Stumbling, tumbling and tripping, eyes always focused downwards, you pushed past one person after the other.

You didn't know where you exactly were going, but when you reached a wall, there had to be a door somewhere too, right?

You got lucky. A tall boy was pushed into you and made you almost fall over, but the way you leaned into a different direction drew your attention to a large gate not too far away.

You gathered your last bit of lasting strength in your legs and pushed yourself out of the house, out of the stuffed room, into the cold air of the night, and the smell of sea salt rather than the salt of sweat.

You left the lights behind you. You just kept going. You needed to get some distance between you and that house.

You ran until you reached the shore; quite literally.

The hard wood of the dock creaked under every step you took further out, until you reached the ending.

Tied down ships were softly tuckering on the wooden stakes.

Rather laboriously, you leaned down to sit on the edge of the not fenced trail. You brushed some dirt off your palms, and hugged your knees to your chest.

Almost every last drop of drunkness you had felt just a few minutes earlier, had vanished.

There were no chattering voices around you, nor the hard bass of a remixed 2000's pop song. Just the small, almost not there, rush of the rustling waves.

An occasional drop signified fish swimming to the surface and diving down again.

Some frogs were quacking in the tall blades of grass.

You pressed your knees closer to your body.

Through your lungs, you inhaled the warm summer air. It would soon be morning.

Something directed your thoughts to the song 'Memory' from Cats.

"And soon it will be morning".

The background noise around you didn't change.

You hated how weary you felt, how heavy your heart. From one sentence, how your night was taken in one's hand, and crushed right in-between his fingers, without him even realizing the splinters digging into his palms.

You hated how much power you had given him over you, a man, a boy, who had no interest in you besides the one of a good friend, which was fine, you should be fine with that.

But for some reason, you weren't, in the same way that you weren't altruistic, and not a girl with dark hair and curls and tan skin, the way that you just weren't Kiara Carrera.

Who were you to blame JJ for the way you couldn't grow up and grow out of your feelings.

"Touch me, it's so easy to leave me".

A soft creak behind you caught your attention.

You didn't turn around.

There was no danger to be expected from the people on the Cut. Not that you knew of.

You told yourself that was the reason you stayed.

Not the fact that you didn't care, if the approaching footsteps were danger or not.

A body, clad in a dark brown shirt and jeans plopped down a few feet to your right.

You almost retched when the smell of distinct perfume reached your nose.

"What happened, man?" JJ asked loudly. "You just ... left, back there. We didn't know where you were." He chuckled. You could hear it in his voice, the way he was still rest-drunk. "Thought you found yourself a nice lady and decided we weren't enough fun, if you know what I mean."

You stayed silent.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw JJ looking at your side.

You heard him sigh.

"Man, I'm serious. If something's wrong, you can talk to me. I'm always there for you, you know that."

You bit the inside of your cheek.

Was it fair to let him fidget, like a fish on a rod? As far as you knew, JJ hadn't done anything wrong, not actively.

You stared out the sea.

"I don't like you with Kiara." Your voice was raw and rough. You slightly cleared your throat.

The light breeze made the reeds rustle in a whisper.

JJ sighed and rubbed a hand over his face frantically.

"I know, man," He murmured. "No pogue on pogue macking, I get it. I broke the rule."

You hummed. Behind the horizon, the sky colored brighter.

"Maybe it's that, yeah." You still didn't turn your head.

The night ended and greeted the day, the blood rushing through your ears drowning out any other noise around you.

You pushed down the shiver that threatened to shake your body when the wind picked up.

“But maybe it’s just because I am so terrifyingly in love with you.”

Behind the reeds and over the smooth water, the sun rose slowly above the Banks, a burning orange flare of light.

“I believe in love and lust and sex and romance. I don't want everything to add up to some perfect equation. I want mess and chaos. I want someone to go crazy out of his mind for me. I want to feel passion and heat and sweat and madness. I want valenties and cupids and all of that crap. I WANT IT ALL” ― Barbra Streisand

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Male-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Hate For All Sinners

A/N - As promised, one for male-presenting folks. This is also on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53448742/chapters/135282199

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

FEM VERSION HERE

NON-BINARY / GN VERSION HERE

“Who’s that?” Lucifer asked, pointing you out to Charlie.

In truth, he would’ve likely asked that of the next person he saw. As Charlie’s father, Lucifer was trying desperately to show how interested he was in his daughter’s project, even if he was barely holding onto anything she said. It wasn’t that he was disinterested, or too ignorant to understand the situation, but rather that after spending so much time as a recluse, locked away in the protective space of his workshop where he wouldn’t have to see the sinners or the Hell he was responsible for creating, Lucifer could barely comprehend what was going on around him. He knew it was because he was depressed, but he was trying and he had to make Charlie see that, even if it meant feigning fits of hypomanic excitement.

Yet, Lucifer found himself genuinely… horrified by you. He had seen many types of Demon over the millennia. Typically, they tended to represent Earth’s animals, such as that annoyingly powerful Deer Demon, Alistair, whom Lucifer had met thanks to this very tour… not that Alistair was worth mentioning, piece of shit that he was, mingling with Lucifer’s daughter when he had no right to even breathe the same air as her-

Lucifer caught his snowballing thoughts, turning them back to you. You weren’t an animal Demon. There were other types of Demons of course, though Flora and Fauna were the most common; object Demons also existed, such as that rather famous one that people talked about, the TV Demon, V-something? Lucifer couldn’t remember his name. He didn’t watch Television… he didn’t do much of anything these days.

“Oh,” Charlie sidled over to you, wrapping her arm warmly around your shoulder as she corralled you towards her father, “Dad, this is (Y/N). He’s one of the hotel’s, uh, allies I guess, right (Y/N)?”

“That’s right, Sir,” You held out your hand for Lucifer, who was staring dumbly at you, uncertain what to make of you.

As the ruler of Hell, fuelled by angelic power, Lucifer could always read a Demon, or rather, he could read their strength. For example, he knew after only one meeting that the bartender, Husk was a strong Demon, though his power was clearly being dampened by a soul contract, whereas that little snake fellow Sir Pentious was rather weak, though he had potential if he could manage to claim even a few souls of his own, but you? You were entirely different.

First off, you didn’t resemble an animal, plant, or object… You were the most human-looking Demon that Lucifer had ever seen; frankly, he found that disturbing. Secondly, you didn’t seem to have much if any power. What was wrong with you? To come off as human with little demonic power… Well, if Lucifer didn’t know any better, he would guess that you weren’t a sinner at all, but you had to be. You were definitely dead; that much he could tell. And, you were in Hell.

Dead and in Hell - those were the only two qualifications for becoming a Demon, so why were you like this?

“Dad, are you listening?” Charlie said exasperatedly, clearly annoyed that Lucifer’s thoughts seemed to have trailed off once again.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Lucifer stated, staring at your hand which you had seemingly retracted when he wasn’t paying attention. Damnation! Now Charlie was going to think he had snubbed her friend on purpose.

“So, (Y/N) is another one of your patrons. That’s nice.”

“What? No. Dad, I just told you, (Y/N) has no interest in being redeemed.”

“Oh,” Lucifer looked you up and down disapprovingly. It figured. Even this non-Demon was looking for power in Hell, probably so you would finally be a killer worth bragging about – Honestly, what was the point? All sinners were the same. Greedy, destructive forces who wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left to break.

“Yep, he’s our only permanent resident who wants to help rehabilitate other souls. Isn’t that great? He helps with everything here, and he doesn’t ask for anything in return.”

“That’s not true,” You blushed at Charlie’s praise. “Your daughter is very generous, Sir. She lets me stay here rent-free.”

“And that’s all you want?” Lucifer asked suspiciously.

“Honestly? Yeah.”

Lucifer shook his head but didn’t argue. He didn’t want to know what your real motivations were. It was probably as simple as hoping for regular boons from the Princess of Hell; you were clearly just biding your time. Besides, if you didn’t want to redeem your soul, then you must be just like Alistair, a sadistic monster just waiting to see Demons repeatedly fail in their attempts at redemption.

Now that his curiosity was sated, Lucifer decided that he didn’t want to lay eyes on you again. You weren’t worth his time. Only Charlie was… Well, Charlie and Vaggie, because any woman his daughter loved was practically family to him. He was glad when the tour continued, leaving you behind to catch Nifty who was trying to pull a piece of fabric from Lucifer’s coat, muttering something about the ‘Ultimate bad boy.’

“Okay, I can get you the meeting,” Lucifer agreed, doing what he could to support Charlie’s dreams of saving her people, even though he didn’t think there were any redeeming qualities for any denizen of Hell.

It hurt him to tell Charlie that he wouldn’t be able to go with her to that lofty paradise, having been cast out; how he wished he could protect his daughter from those who carried out God’s will. Still, she never asked him for anything, and if this was what her heart most desired, he would do all in his power to help.

“Will you be okay?” He asked sombrely.

“I’ll be fine,” Charlie assured him, taking hold of his hands.

“That’s my girl.”

For a moment, it looked like Lucifer was done, but he paused, worried that this wasn’t enough to make up for the years he had been absent, leaving Charlie to fend for herself while he shut himself away.

“Is there anything else you need?”

Charlie couldn’t help but worry about her father. What would happen when he went back into isolation? He needed something to focus on, but… What was there for him when all of Hell was his prison?

She couldn’t help thinking about how little Lucifer thought of all the other citizens of Hell. If only he could see that they weren’t as terrible as he thought. Granted, they could be violent, and loud, definitely rambunctious, but these were his people, and he had to see that his gift of Free Will was a good thing, yet, if she said any of this, she was certain Lucifer would only laugh at her or tell her to get real while playfully pinching her cheek. There was no way that Lucifer would leave his home to hang out with any citizen of Hell.

Then it hit her. If Lucifer wouldn’t leave his manor to visit people, then people should be allowed to visit his manor. Or better yet, one person should be chosen to go and live with Lucifer so that he would learn just how good people could be, and Charlie knew just the person for the job.

“Actually, Dad, there is one more thing.”

“Name it,” Lucifer smiled, glad that his daughter wanted to ask things of him, as any normal child should want from their parents.

“I think it would be good for you to socialise, just a little bit.”

“Charlie,” Lucifer’s voice was strained at the thought of going anywhere else in Hell.

“I know,” Charlie reassured him, looking into his eyes; she looked so understanding that he relaxed slightly. Then, she continued in a more upbeat tone, “That’s why I think you should take (Y/N) to live with you, as your cleaner!”

She pounded her palm decidedly, much like a judge pounding her gavel.

“What? NO!” Lucifer sputtered.

You for your part, had seemingly been shocked into silence, watching the exchange uncertainly while Alistair grinned devilishly at you, and Angel Dust was holding in a snicker. Granted, you could have argued, but Charlie was stubborn, and she always had some kind of wild idea. Whatever she was thinking, you decided that you would go along with it; there was usually a method to her madness after all.

“It’s fine, Dad, (Y/N) doesn’t mind, right (Y/N)?”

You shrugged your shoulders passively, “I guess?”

“See? You should get to know your citizens, Dad. It will be good for you, I promise. They’re not all as bad as you think.”

Lucifer took one hard look at you. Honestly, he wished his daughter had picked the porn star or that psycho maid. You, as a very human-looking Demon, were a vicious reminder of his past mistakes. Still, he had told his daughter he would do anything for her, and he had already promised her a meeting with Heaven, and nothing could possibly be worse than that.

“Alright,” He agreed.

Then, he summoned a portal for you with the flick of his wrist.

“Good luck, kiddo.” He said to Charlie, and upon keeping a safe distance from you, he waited for you to step through the portal.

“Charlie, I’m assuming that you have a good reason for this,” You said before taking a step towards your newly appointed home, “Just call me if you need anything.”

With that, you were gone, followed closely (though not too closely) by Lucifer.

[catnippackets]

My sister in law and I once had a very deep chat where she told me she's a bit jealous of how I'm "capable" of obsessing over interests; I got the feeling that to her it seemed like a specific type of joy she would never really know. In turn, I told her that even though I sometimes wish it had an off switch, I rlly can't imagine a version of myself thay doesn't get joyfully hyperfixated on things, since it's so intrinsic to my personality/neuro-chemistry.

Anyways, I totally relate to that feeling of detached embarrassment, but it was eye-opening to talk abt it with her and see that A) some people really admire the capacity for such "passion" and B) some people genuinely just can't have that experience, which seems both unthinkable and obvious lol

I genuinely can't imagine a life like that for myself either. I've gone through periods of time before where I wasn't hyperfixated on something and genuinely I felt like...deeply empty the entire time. As soon as something new entered my life to fixate on I felt like myself again. I definitely have interests and hobbies that I enjoy in a very normal non-obsessive way but it feels so different and they don't feel like...sustainable. like I'm just living off of bread and milk. idk how else to phrase that. because the things I always hyperfixate on are tv shows and fictional characters I kind of just assumed it came with the territory of being an artist, cuz as a creator it's like...this is what I'm meant to do with my life, right? I know I'm supposed to be telling stories and creating characters and exploring concepts through fiction so it makes perfect sense that I'm depressed without any source of inspiration or rejuvenation. Cuz it's inspiring as hell to be hyperfixated on something!! it gives me endless energy and inspiration to create and that makes me feel amazing.

most of my friends are ND too but I know some of them aren't the same as me in this regard and they've even expressed similar jealousy that they're not someone who obsesses over things. it's both understandable and so weird to me cuz obviously you can't pick and choose what your brain is gonna latch on to but like...you haven't even had ONE time in your life where you spent years only thinking about one thing? not even once? that's unfathomable to me, that's like my entire life.

and while I definitely do not enjoy the embarrassment of having feelings and how upsetting it can be to constantly be distracted from real life tasks that take priority and also feeling self conscious and wondering if I even have a personality sometimes beyond my fave video games/shows/movies, I'm really glad that I'm someone who can experience it cuz it really does feel like I'm just sitting around and waiting if I don't have a story to think about all the time. sometimes I hear people talk about how stressful and sad it is that they feel so deeply and I'm like yeah I mean sometimes but like...what about the joy. what about all the love. there's nothing sad about it! embarrassing sometimes yeah but that's worth it if it means I get to be so deeply happy and excited! I'll complain from time to time but never in a THOUSAND years would I ever want to change this about myself. I will take all the embarrassing annoying feelings if it means I get to experience pure wild autistic joy haha