#there was christianity around me but i wasn’t raised with anything

[crookedfandomquill]

This is very situational, and sadly may not be realistic for everyone, but I need y’all to understand that a very important part of political activism is fucking talking to your conservative or moderate friends and family.

My dad voted for Trump in 2016. He’s a middle class white evangelical from Arkansas. He raised me with conservative Christian values, just like his parents raised him. When he voted Trump, he was holding his nose, but he didn’t feel too bad about it, and went on to vote red down the ticket in the 2018 midterms, as well.

But I started college in 2017. Higher education and independence changed everything for me, and I went home over holidays and summers with fire in my belly and a thousand arguments ready at the drop of a hat, to my father’s dismay.

I remember crying in my room after emotional, intense arguments with him. I told him over and over that I felt betrayed by his choice to vote for a man who admitted to sexually assaulting women, who built his platform on dehumanizing immigrants and the disabled, who spread overtly-racist rhetoric, who flouted the values of kindness and self-discipline that I’d been raised on. And my dad always had some justification about the “greater good”: fighting against abortion, bolstering the economy, getting other Christian politicians into office.

But over time, as we grew further apart and I lost my will to discuss anything with him at all, he softened. He started asking me why I thought the way I did about the things we disagreed about. He would listen to my answers without interruption, and mull them over afterward instead of expressing his own opinion. And all the while, he watched the Trump presidency become cruel and absurd and devastating.

The first time he openly expressed regret to me, I had come home for a weekend after Kavanaugh was confirmed to SCOTUS. My dad realized he had helped elect a man who preyed on women… and that man had opened the door to more predators. I can’t tell you what it felt like for him to admit that he’d made a mistake, not just in voting for Trump but in defending him for so long. We kept arguing, but it was more debating than fighting. I knew he was capable of seeing my side of things, even if it took a while, and he knew I wasn’t just a sensitive college student with shallow new ideas about the world.

And then 2020 hit. Specifically, George Floyd was murdered, and the events that followed played out on the national stage. My dad was incredibly shaken by it. He asked me if I had any books from college about racial issues. I loaned him The New Jim Crow, one of the required readings for my Race and the Law class. Then I gave him Just Mercy. Then he watched the documentary 13th. Then he joined a racial harmony group he learned about through one of the few Black families at our church and insisted our whole family come. He held up signs at a protest against Confederate monuments in our conservative southern town. In three years, he went from defending Trump’s comments about “Black-on-Black crime” to publicly advocating for racial justice and opposing the death penalty.

We went together to vote in the 2020 primaries. I couldn’t help asking who he’d voted for; I didn’t even know if he’d asked for the Republican or Democratic ticket. He admitted he’d voted for Bernie. fucking. Sanders, then made me promise not to tell my grandma he’d voted liberal. When the election rolled around in November, he voted Biden. I’m sure he held his nose to do it, just like he held his nose voting in 2016. But I know he doesn’t regret it.

I am, of course, unbelievably lucky to have a parent who loved me enough, and was empathetic enough, to choose his relationship with me over his strongly-held opinions. He kept searching for truth because, as much as he’ll deny it, he’s a very smart and curious person. No degree of intelligence or curiosity makes you immune to propaganda, especially if you were raised not to question the party line. It’s easy to dismiss our conservative, conspiracy-pilled loved ones as stupid, hypocritical, and cruel. Sometimes they are. But sometimes they aren’t. Sometimes they will bend to keep their relationships from breaking. Sometimes, if they can be made to understand that their beliefs and actions are harming someone they love, they will make concessions. And sometimes they just need one person in their life to put a foot down, to be vulnerable and assertive and argumentative, to bring the impact of their politics close to home.

As the most important election of our lifetimes approaches, do not put peace over progress. If you have someone like my dad, someone who is good-willed and smart and loves you more than their own opinions, tell them how you feel. Tell them what their choices will mean for you, for your friends, for your community. Tell them what they could lose: your trust, your affection, your respect. Don’t avoid conflict if it could be productive. Because my conflict with my dad didn’t just win him over–it won over my moderate mom and one of my conservative brothers. And it put us in community with other like-minded people and led my parents to a healthier and kinder faith.

All of this to say, there is hope in conflict. There is hope in our relationships with people who think differently from us. There is hope in exposing your fear and anger and pain to people you love. And hope is a form of activism.

[impeakcharacterdesign]

Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

[sinofwriting]

Not Quite Temptation - Max Verstappen

Words: 874 Summary: Christian introduces Max to his daughter. Note(s): This was requested months ago and I apologize to the requester that it took so long for me to write it, but I hope you enjoy! Also, I’m aware of the complaint that has been filed on Horner (the complaint from what I understand (and seen from majority sources) is about aggressive management i.e. controlling behavior). I understand if seeing this makes people uncomfortable and if it does, I urge you to scroll past and ignore this.

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Christian had been thrilled when his oldest child, his daughter, had finally wanted to come to a race. He wasn’t delusional. He knew it wasn’t because she had finally gained a larger interest in the sport, no matter how much he had tried over the years. It was simply to spend time with him. Which as much as he pretended to complain to Geri about it (because honestly if she wanted to spend time with him, it’d be much easier not during a race weekend) he loved it.

He hadn’t gotten to really be a part of her life as she grew up, custody arrangement strict due to all of his traveling. It was only later when she turned sixteen that really she and him truly got to spend time together. Her mother allowing her to spend weeks at his house, more comfortable as well with Geri being there. There was a little part of him however that was bitter that it took this long for her to attend a race, that her mother had been so insistent on her not going to races when she was underage.

He pushed away the thought, just happy that finally wanted to go to one, even if it was just to see and spend time with him.

Introducing her around, he laughs when Adrian’s eyes go a little wide.

“Why that can’t be little Y/N? You were twelve the last time I saw you. And this high.” He raises his hand to just a little above his waist. “Eight years changes a lot.” She laughs. “What dad doesn’t show a picture of me around?” It’s a joke, but a few people overhearing flinch, exchanging looks. “If you’d let me show pictures of you, I would. I’m very proud.” Christian says, wrapping an arm around her and kissing the top of her head, still in disbelief that he had a twenty-year-old daughter. It didn’t feel right or real. “I know.”

He smiles, nodding at Adrian before directing to where the driver’s rooms are. “C’mon, I want you to meet Max. It’s nearly a crime you haven’t met him till now.” “Aw, your golden child. Or second golden child.” He mock scowls at her. “You need to stop talking to Seb.” “No way. His girls call me Auntie.” Christian makes a humming noise, stopping in front of a closed door and raising his fist to knock.

“Max. Do you have a moment? There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He hears the driver groan through the door. “Christian, I really don’t want to meet a sponsor right now, okay. I’m not feeling well.” “Not a sponsor, I promise.” “Pleasant.” She murmurs when Max doesn’t say anything else. It makes him glance down and he’s relieved to see an amused smile on her face. “How often are you forcing him to meet sponsors?” “You sound like him right now.” He tells her. As she starts to laugh, the door opens.

“Max,” Christian smiles. “This is my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, Max Verstappen.” “Your golden child.” She teases, before reaching out to shake Max’s hand that he had extended. “Nice to meet you, Max. My dad is quite fond of you.” “Lovely to meet you.” He tells her, before looking at Christian for a brief second with a raised eyebrow. “Is this your first race?” “It is.” “Let me give you a tour, introduce you to a few drivers. Any minute now, Christian will have to go to a meeting.” “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” She says, leaning just the slightest bit into him and he knows that Max picks up on it with the way his eyes soften a bit. “It’s no problem really. Besides, this means your dad will owe me a favor.” He winks. Christian wants to protest, but she laughs and he nods. “One favor and my meeting should only be an hour, darling.” He presses another kiss to her head. “Careful with my daughter, Max and don’t take her around Toto or Esteban. That’s the last thing I need.” “Got it, boss.”

A little over an hour later, as Christian enters the garage, his eyes quickly spot his daughter who's talking to Adrian again, her hands moving around as she explains something to him. He considers going over, but Adrian has that look on his face. The one where he’s fully paying attention and getting some sort of idea from what the other person is telling him.

Letting his eyes wander around the garage, they pause on Max and he nearly freezes because that is the look of a man clearly checking someone out and a sick sort of feeling forms in his stomach. Following his line of sight, his fists clench and he struggles not to yell. Because it was his daughter that Max was looking at. His fucking daughter.

Looking at her, he takes a few deep breaths, comforting himself with the fact that she’d never be interested in someone like Max. Completely missing how her hair is no longer up but down and carefully covering parts of her neck and how she keeps shifting her weight. He also completely misses the small glances and smiles Max and her exchange.

@cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 11 - One Last Time

Welcome, welcome, welcome to the finale of the 2023 season. I thought a lot about possibly making a chapter for the final F1 race, but reader would basically be doing nothing. So enjoy this tear-jerker read! 

ATTENTION: TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Well, here you were. Back for the third and final time. It was bittersweet if anything. You knew you’d probably cry, but you hoped that it wouldn’t be until later. 

A win would be preferable, but you knew how races went. Anything was up for grabs. Christian had bid you goodbye when you left Vegas to head here. You knew that they probably wouldn’t be able to come, since the Formula 1 season was also ending very soon. You’d be fine. Plus, you’d done this multiple times before. Normally, you never invited anyone to come watch you. There really wasn’t anyone you wanted to invite in the first place. 

No family and no friends outside the F1 world. What was the point. But, you were basically driving with your best friend every weekend. He would just have to watch your tail lights though. 

The sprint was already done and you had bagged another win. You hoped to turn this weekend into a grand slam. It wouldn’t be your first one, but it would be the last on in F2. You had gotten pole and you won the initial sprint race. Arthur was behind you the entire time. 

Speaking of Arthur, you didn’t know where he had run off to. You decided on that his family had probably come to watch the end of his first F2 season. It was nice to know that they really cared like that. 

You walked around the paddock with your race suit on your hips and sun glasses on your nose. It wasn’t terribly hot, but the sun was going to do some damage if you stayed outside for too long. You stopped along the gates to sign some thing for fans. Quite a few of them were now wearing Red Bull merch instead of the normal Dams ones. It felt good inside to see that they were now going to be interested in watch your F1 career and not just staying for F2. 

You had to say goodbye after a few moments, and you left with lots of friendship bracelets on your wrists. You were going to have to take them off before you got into the car, but you wanted to keep them on for a bit. 

A couple of reporters stopped you as you made your way back to your garage where your car was sitting. They barely asked any questions, seeming to know that you had to get back. You thanked them for their swiftness and continued down the pit area. Most garages were filled to the brim, but not as much as the ones had in Vegas. There, celebrities seemed to drip from every crevasse. 

As you got closer to the garage, you heard multiple familiar laughs. 

It couldn’t be. 

You hastened your steps and were almost brought to tears by the sight. Max, Christian, Geri, and Mitch were all there by the computer wall, donning Dams merchandise with your number on it. They seemed to be too caught up in their conversation to notice you at first. 

You looked behind you, saw that there was no one, backed up a bit, and launched forward in Max’s direction. You leaped onto his back and squeezed him tight. His shoulders tightened before he heard your laugh. 

“Hi kid,” he said, craning his neck to try to see you. But, you were overcome with lots of emotions and you didn’t want him to see you cry this early, so you just buried your face in his shoulder. Said shoulders moved up and down with another laugh. 

“I’ll wipe my tears on your shirt if you keep laughing at me,” you muttered, trying to threaten the other driver. 

“No you will not.” Max let you hang for a bit. “You know, I think Christian also wants a hug.” 

You raised your head and looked at the gray-haired Brit. You quickly clamored over to Christian and brought him into an even bigger hug. You murmured something to him, but he wasn’t able to pick it up so he just squeezed you tighter. You let go and hugged Geri as well, thanking her for coming. 

You met Mitch with open arms and maybe more tears. You finally finished with all the greetings before you pulled back. 

“Why are you all here? Like, I’m thankful, but isn’t there a race soon that you need to be preparing for?” 

Max and Christian laughed. Max explained, “Kid. It’s your last race, why wouldn’t we come?” 

You really didn’t understand why they wanted to. 

Christian slapped a hand on Max’s shoulder, “And Max here skipped F2 completely and has never seen a race before or the car. Why don’t you tell him about it.” 

Your eyes sparkled. Max wanted to complain and tell you that he did know how an F2 car worked, but the moment he saw your hopefulness, his lips were sealed. He offered his hand and followed as you led him over to your car. The moment you started talking, your hands started flying. Max just nodded along to everything you said while the others were watching the two of you with so much love. 

Vito had been able to enter the garage and was amused at the sight. He walked over to Christian. “Thank you for coming. It means the world to her. Let me pay you back for the early tickets.” 

Christian waved his hand, “There’s no need.” 

Their side of the garage was silent before Vito spoke up again, “You know, this is her first race since 2018 that someone came to watch her.” The adults’ hearts dropped. 

Mitch spoke, “I thought her godfather died in 2020?”

Vito nodded, “He did. But because of his illness and medication, he wasn’t able to come watch her at all. The last race he went to was the middle of her F3 season.” 

It was Geri’s turn to speak, “Surely she has had someone? A friend? Family?” 

The four of them looked at you and Max. Somehow Max had shimmied into your seat and you leaned over, fingers pointing to the various buttons. 

A sigh escaped Vito’s lips, “She was disowned in early 2018.” 

Geri gasped and Christian let out a big sigh. Mitch continued to watch your face light up with glee as you tried to put your helmet on Max’s head. It wasn’t going very well and Max was trying to bat your hands away. She was thinking of how a child so filled with light had been able to go through so much. 

“Please don’t tell her I told you. She wouldn’t want Max to know. She has looked up to him since her karting days, and I know Max wouldn’t, but she wouldn’t want him to look at her differently.” 

You were now helping Max get out of the car. The four watched as Max carefully helped you put your helmet on, his fingers doing the clasp under your chin. He fondly placed his hand on the top and wiggled it. Your hands flew up to stop him. And even though it was muffled by the helmet, your laugh filled the room. 

Christian was about to say something, but the entrance of Arthur and his family stopped him. He could message Vito later to see what exactly you needed. Because he was willing to do anything for you. 

Your head whipped at the sound of Arthur’s laugh and you stumbled over to him. Everyone watched as you did your little pre-race handshake that the two of you insisted on needing. You forgot something very important and you turned back to Max with arms out. 

“How do I look?” Max, and the others, finally got a good look at your race suit. It was different. The regular Dams one had been replaced by the Red Bull navy and familiar logo. You looked at home in the suit. “Arthur has one too. Well, not a RB one.” You pointed to the red clashed boy. 

His suit looked almost identical to the Ferrari one that Charles normally wears. Except the Dams logo was across the front, same as yours. 

“I love it kid. But you couldn’t have told me before? I could have been wearing my regular polo,” Max whined and you shooshed. 

“Max, I hate to tell you, actually I don’t hate it, you need to hear it. You need better clothes.” Max deadpanned at you and Charles’ laugh filled the air. Your helmet clad head turned towards him as well. 

“Oh don’t get me started on you. Next time you’re in Texas, for the love of everything, take you pant legs out of the boots! They go over the boots, hence the name bootcut.” That shut him up, but Arthur started to laugh.

The others joined in too, but were interrupted by the signal that you needed to get into your car. Max quickly hugged you before lighting pushing you towards the vehicle. You climbed over the halo and situated yourself as the mechanics lowered your car to the ground. Mitch was given the opportunity to hand you the steering wheel. You knew she wouldn’t be able to talk you through the race, but you had asked her to do something for you after you crossed the finish line. 

You taxied your car to the P1 spot and waited on the grid. Once the lights went out for the formation lap, you quickly started to warm up your tires. You bobbed and weaved all over the track, Arthur doing the same right behind you. 

You seemed to just glide over the track with how smooth your steering was. You finally arrived back to the starting grid and you braked. The other cars filled up behind you, and you knew this was it. 

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. 

Go. 

Your foot hit the throttle and off you were. Your reaction time was phenomenal. Max watched as you started to pull away from the others, maximizing the corners. You were flying on the straights. 

It seemed to be going so well for the first half until you hit a kerb and the back of your car went spinning. Your Dams engineer was the first to reach you. By now, two cars had gone past you by the time you got back onto the track. 

“Y/n talk to me.” 

Your voice was rattly as you responded, “I think my left back tire is damaged. Box, box.” You had wanted to go a bit further on your current tires, but it just wasn’t possible. You needed to make one mandatory stop during the race and it would have to be now. 

You finally got to the pit lane and were able to get back out in P5. It wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t horrible. 

Max and Christian were biting their nails, hoping that you’d be able to make a comeback. You were the first to pit and you’d use that to your advantage. On the new tires, you were able to climb back to P2. Using the early strategy, Arthur had pitted almost right behind you and was now in P3. 

The one car in front of you was forced to pit as it neared the 10 minute mark. You could do this, but Arthur was gaining. You pressed the button on the radio. “Gap to Leclerc?” 

“Currently 1.783 seconds but is gaining.” 

You seemed to press the throttle a bit more on the corners. You loved Arthur but he was not going to get any DRS from you and use it against you. The adults in the garage watched at you flew around the corners.

Your strategist clicked the radio, “Easy with the balance.” 

“Please not talking during the corners. I know what I’m doing.” You went around another bend. Five minutes remained. 

Three minutes. 

“Gap to Leclerc is 2.004 seconds.” You jerked your car around a tight curve and almost went over the track limits. 

“No talking in the turns!” 

“Understood.” Max and Christian bit back smiles. That sounded familiar. 

Two minutes. 

One minute. 

Thirty seconds. 

Your car crossed over the finish line with a gap of 5 seconds. Your screams could be heard over the radio as Max and Christian all but jumped into each other’s arms. 

Your voice suddenly filled the air, “Is Mitch there?” 

Your engineer made room for her. “I’m here kid. Want me to do the thing?” 

“Yes please.” 

Max groaned, “Please let it not be Life is a Highway. I’ve been singing that in my sleep with how much she plays it.” 

Mitch pushed play and the voice of Ariana Grande filled the speaker, along with your shaky voice. 

“One last time, I need to be, the one, who takes you home. One more time, I promise after that, I’ll let you go!” You waived at the crowds as you pulled your car into the P1 spot. You stood on your car and raised your fists as you yelled. Your head whipped towards your crew and you immediately made eye contact with two blue eyes. You leaped from the nose and ran to those arms. 

“I did it Max! I won!” Your voice was shaky. Max pulled back from the hug and patted your helmet. 

“I am so proud of you, Kleintje.” (translation : little one)  

You walked down the line, hugging other members of your crew. The last one you hugged was Christian, who barely let you go. 

Turning around you were met with the helmet of your best friend. You looked through his visor and noticed tears in his eyes. You quickly brought him into a hug. 

Your helmets clinked as you met, but you didn’t care. You pulled back at arm’s length and pointed at him. 

“Now that I’m gone, I expect a championship for you next year TurTur.” He laughed hard. 

“How am I supposed to if you’re not here with me?” Your heart may have broken. 

“What are you talking about. I’m always here,” you finger met his heart. The two of you would be ok. Stewards came to get the two of you for weigh ins a to get you to the cool down room. 

Ollie walked in behind you. “There you are Bearman. I thought you forgot about me!” Ollie said nothing as he stomped over and gave you, well, a bear hug. Your ran your fingers through his hair. Pulling back, there were tears in his eyes as well. 

“You both are going to be the death of me. It’s not like I’m actually dying. And besides, you both will need to drive for a team for Free Practices and you’ll be invited to races.” Ollie and Arthur sadly nodded, but new you were right. This wasn’t goodbye. 

Ollie went out first, followed by Arthur. You looked around the room, one last time. You’d miss it for sure, but it was time to move on. 

You walked out with your head held high, flag wrapped around your shoulders. You took off your hat as you listened to your anthem, and then the French one followed. Two different officials handed trophies to Ollie and Arthur. You were too busy watching them smile and celebrate, that you almost missed the person in front of you with your trophy. 

You turned your head and were met with icy blue eyes. You smiled at the familiar face and tears pricked your eyes. 

Max gave you a grin and brought you in for a hug. It had to be quick, but he could tell you needed it. The two of you parted and he gave you the trophy. He stepped back and watched as you lifted it high in the air. 

His heart swelled with pride. Looking around, he noticed that the three of you started to grab your champagne bottles and he quickly left the stage, not wanting to get drenched in the liquid. You hauled the bottle over your shoulder, after you had shaken it some, and started to spray the two boys whom you loved so dearly. 

For the umpteenth time that day, tears littered your face. 

You looked up as the boys continued to splash the sticky drink around you. 

I made it LoLo. For you always. 

But, you were doing it for yourself as well. 

(just imagine that max is in different clothes)

Bwah! We made it to the end of the 2023 season! I have a personal master list of every chapter I want to write and this work will be over 42 chapters! I just came up with the idea for the very last on (I plan ahead) and lemme tell you, I wanted to cry just thinking about it. I love you all!  

Some usernames do not come up when I try to tag them, so if that happens, I will respond to your comment or DM. If you’d like to be tagged, please comment under the chapter. It helps a lot when they are all in one place.

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @digitalizeduniqueness @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @treehouse-mouse @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost @misartymis @boiohboii @alexander-hamilhoe

[adventuringblind]

Oscar the Matchmaker: Chapter Three

Oscar Jack Piastri x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: Jos overhear a conversation and the trio finds themselves in a confrontation

Warnings: Jos being Jos, Oscar throwing hands, implied homophobia and slurs

Notes: I definitely wasn’t listening to eye of the tiger while writing this…

Previous <-

Masterlist

It’s was only a matter of time until someone noticed. Max had been more then smiley as of late and it wasn’t just because he was dominating the sport. He’d fallen head over heal and looked like a love sick puppy.

His smile tends to grow a little extra when someone brings up either of his partners. He just blamed on the fact he thought they were doing well and had become friends with both.

Christian didn’t fall for it. He wasn’t team principal for nothing. He’s an observant man and had seen it in the way Max moved, his he talked, even in his driving.

Max found himself being pulled aside by Christian into a space where the people either didn’t bother them or didn’t care what they were talking about.

“Care to tell me what has you so happy lately?”

Max panics and stutters, then ends up just shrugging his shoulders. “The weather.” He mentally face palms at the terrible lie.

Christian laughs at him and grabs his shoulders. “It’s a miracle you can make it through interviews sometimes.” He releases him again before continuing. “Are you going to tell me the truth now.”

“First promise me you won’t be mad and that you won’t judge.”

“Would you like me to pinky swear it?”

Max rolls his eyes but continues one. “I’m in a relationship.”

“Well I already knew that part.” A skirt tugs on Christian’s lips. “Who is the lucky lass? Or is it a lad?” The playful eyebrow raise puts Max oddly at ease.

“Both actually.” His hands get clams and he wants nothing more to disappear at the confession. The fear of judgement giving him nervous energy.

“… Like two partners or gender-fluid?” The genuine curiosity in the older males voice made him relax. He wanted to know and was supportive it seems.

“Two Partners. Y/N and Oscar, actually.” He is hopeless. He can’t even say their names without smiling.

Christian is also smiling widely. “I’m so happy for you! Remember this is a safe space and if anyone says anything please let me know. If not afraid to tell someone off.”

Max feels the tension leave his body. His initial panic evaporating into think air. “Thank you, it means a lot really.”

“Are you three going to go public? If so then please tell me sooner rather then later so the team is prepared.”

“No plans for that right now, just figuring things out. But I’ll make sure to let you know.”

Despite their plans to not go public or let more people into their secret, someone was ,siting just around the corner.

~

Max texted them immediately after the conversation. They still had a few hours before the race so he wasn’t to worried about time.

Max: Christian knows

Y/N: … is he upset?

Max: No, he’s actually really supportive

Oscar: interesting turn of events

Max: you two aren’t mad with me?

Y/N: why would we be mad? Christian is basically your dad!

Oscar: we made a decision that we are disowning Jos

Max: I don’t think that’s how that works

Y/N: don’t care. He’s disowned.

Max chuckles at their comments. They are both younger then him but neither would hesitate to protect him from anything. Including his aggressive father.

He didn’t notice a problem at first. He thought it was normal until he got up to formula 1 and Daniel told him that it’s not. Christian and Seb followed after him. Soon Max was in a position where he had to come to terms with his childhood.

He’d yet to do that because despite it all, Jos is still his father and he loves him.

All that to say he wouldn’t be surprised if the female in their trio ended up punching him one day.

~

It had been an absolutely shitty race for her. She’s on the verge of tears when she’s getting ready to leave until Yuki comes sliding around the corner. “They have more stuff to talk about.” She can hear the annoyance in her his voice.

“What if we just run away.”

“I may be fast, but my legs are short. We’d never make it.”

She groans and sends a quick text to the boys telling them she is going to be late and they can leave without her. Instead of the response she was expecting, they said they’d wait for her by the paddock entrance.

She smiled reading the text, then locked her phone again.

~

Her legs feel heavy as she walks through the dark and almost deserted paddock. Her brain has already shut off and she wants nothing more then to curl up with her lovers and sleep until next year.

A pair of heavy footsteps fall in line behind her. She assumes it’s just leftover staff and continues her journey. That is, until she hears the thick Dutch accent of Jos Verstappen. The last person on the planet she wants to see.

“Can we talk for a moment?” He yells out to her.

“I’m late for something, sorry.” She doesn’t look at him. She fears if she does she might not be able to hold her tongue or hands and the last thing she wants to do it get in trouble.

It doesn’t take long for him to catch up. She blames her uncooperative appendages.

“We need to talk.” He grabs her bicep and she yelps in surprise.

“I really am la-“

“You and the Australian keep away from my son.”

She panics. Her breathing gets labored faster then she would’ve liked. Questions fill her mind of how he knows. She tries to yank her arms away but he tightens his grip.

“Never.” She spits. He used his free hand to wipe his face. She can feel him heating with anger as his movements become jagged. She readies herself for the possibility of a swing. At least if he hits her first then she can hit him back.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” The much more soothing Dutch accent yells from behind her.

“Is it true? You’re really lumping yourself in with this nonsense?” Max had almost forgotten why he doesn’t tell his father things. He’d had to relearn everything when he was finally able to spend time with people who wanted him to understand that the internalized homophobia that he’d grown up with was not okay in any sense.

“Yeah, I am.” Max keeps his distance. His father is prone to aggression and Max fears for the girl currently in his hold.

The fear and simultaneous relief flood through him as he pushes her straight to the ground. The look of pain and exhaustion in her eyes is hard to look at.

She doesn’t move. She can’t find the energy to do so.

“Your no son of mine. My son would never be a fa-“ He does not get the chance to finish his sentence. Oscar had connected his fist to the Dutch’s face and sent him stumbling backwards.

She could feel Oscar seething. She’d never seen him lose his temper. Ever. Since she’d known him. He could be cold and calculated but this was a whole new level.

She looked at Max who was now gently hugging Oscar from behind and trying to calm the anger behind the Australians eyes. He also looked at her for some sort of understanding. Neither of them had any clue what to do.

“Say it again. I fucking dare you.” Oscar held his gaze on the older man. It felt as if time had frozen around them. “You have no right to say such things.”

Oh. It clicked for her then. He’d done this before with one of her exes. A few of them actually.

It’s not like she’d never been with a female before. She’d been called that F slur before and it definitely didn’t feel right. Oscar had also punched them. There was no hesitation behind his swing either.

Jos just stares back at them and Max had no other ideas except to get Oscar away before he gets himself in trouble. She watches as he starts tugging him back towards the entrance. Stopping to give you a hand up. Then she held Oscars hand in hers the entire way back to the hotel. Despite his earlier anger, he held her hand so gently and occasionally placed kisses on her knuckles. Reciprocating the action to Max when they came to a stop sign or red light.

He’d still not settled down when they got to the hotel room. His frantic pacing and angry rant seemed to help, but only so much.

“Love, pretty sure there are other ways to help you get some of this energy out.” She purrs. Had she noticed max is turned on? Yes. Is she also turned on? Yes. Have both of them been whispering about the rage fueled Aussie being turned on? Again, yes.

He freezes and eyes both of them with a rather lustful gaze.

Sometimes the best cure to pent up energy is really good sex.

~

Max wakes up to the awful sound of his phone buzzing. The blissful feeling of his lovers tangled in the sheets with him now ruined by the terrible sound.

Still he looks at the caller ID and almost chokes when he sees Christian’s name on his phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey Max… I was wondering if you could shed some light on why your father called to tell me not to let, and I quote, ‘the deranged McLaren Australian’ anywhere near out garage?”

Max laughs. It’s probably not the right time and the other two are now awake and trying to tug him down into the bed, but he can’t help it. “Oscar punched him last night because he used the F word.”

“The F word? Doesn’t Oscar say fuck? I’ve heard him before I think.”

“I should clarify: the F slur.”

Silence falls from the other end of the line. For a moment Max things he lost connection until he hears Christian grumbling. “Tell Oscar he’s allowed in anytime he wants and your father will be receiving a strongly worded letter about how he’s not welcome back.”

Again, Max can only laugh at the situation and how it’s unfolded. He’s not complaining though. It’s nice knowing that he doesn’t always have to fight for himself.

[monoclesnapple]

Wan Kindergarten!Chuuya

Bungo Stray Dogs Chuuya Nakahara & Gender Neutral Reader + Osamu Dazai X Reader

Beginning Note: Initially, I wanted to include all the scenarios that were thought of, but I decided to make them separate. So, there will be a continuation of this. @kiwibeanv helped a lot with the scenarios, especially the future ones I’ll do.

Word Count: 2191

(Fluff/Little Crack)

Background:

At some point, you had decided you wanted to take care of a human child, but you didn’t have a significant other and you didn’t really want to go through all the trouble of the process in making it.

So, you went to an adoption center and looked around at all the children there. All different ages, appearances, personalities, etc.

One child caught your eye, a ginger haired boy with big, blue eyes. He was so adorable, and he didn’t seem to be troublesome.

You did all the paperwork and whatever else needed to be done and now had an adopted son whose name was Chuuya.

Initially, he didn’t want anything to do with you, just locking himself up in his room that you’d prepared. He only left it for necessities, but sped back as soon as possible.

You didn’t have much hope in the beginning, but he eventually started to trust you. He would start eating at the dinner table, say good morning to you, sit in the living room for a while.

As more time passed, he was comfortable with you. Chuuya finally saw you as a parental figure, and you couldn’t be happier. All the waiting for him had paid off.

He was such a good kid. If he ever had to say hi to someone, he would greet them politely and introduce himself. He cleaned up after himself, he wasn’t always too loud, sometimes he would yell out, but he quickly calmed down.

Chuuya then reached the age of attending school, so before the year started, you took him shopping for clothes. The ones he had were a little worn and he could use a wardrobe change.

“How’s this one?” You held up a blue shirt with a sheep on it. He took a quick glance before shaking his head.

“I don’t like that one.”

You sighed and placed it back. Of all the options there were, he didn’t like any of them. You turned to him and asked, “Well, do you have an idea of what you’d like? We can look for it.”

Chuuya thought about it before looking up at you. “Something dark. I don’t like bright colors.” He looked at another shelf and pointed at it. “Like those!”

You looked where he pointed at and saw that the clothing were mainly black, gray, white, navy blue, and other dark neutral colors. You raised an eyebrow. “Those are church clothes.”

Chuuya pouted, “But those are the only good ones.” He turned back to you with puppy eyes. “Now you don’t want me to get what I like?”

You decided to check them out so you walked over to the shelves. “I suppose it can’t hurt. But don’t blame me if you don’t like them anymore.” You browsed through them all, asking him what he thought, and he finally made his decision.

When you two returned home, you told him to try it on to make sure it fit. He walked out of his room wearing the new clothes and showed you his outfit.

You were silent for a few seconds before muttering, “You look like a Christian. Like you’re going to the church summer camp.”

Hearing your words, his jaw fell a bit and his eyebrows furrowed. He looked offended at what you said. “I do not!” He screeched. He fell silent and looked down at himself, beginning to quietly mutter to no one in particular.

You let out an airy chuckle and crouched down to his level and pet his head. “I didn’t necessarily say it was terrible.” You didn’t actually know what to think. It was goofy, but you’re not going to hurt his feelings.

He felt a little better and smiled at you. “Can we go get some ice cream? I was good today, right?” He bounced on the balls of his feet.

You couldn’t resist him, so you agreed.

Kindergarten:

The first day of school finally arrived, so you ensured that Chuuya had anything needed and that he wasn’t going to misbehave. The two of you got to the building and you escorted him to the front.

“I trust that you won’t cause trouble while you’re here?” You crouched down.

He sighed, “I’ll be good, I promise.” He was quiet for a few seconds before hesitantly taking a step closer to you and slowly raised his arms. He was asking for a hug.

You smiled and embraced him, caressing his head before planting a kiss on his temple. “Good boy. If you behave today, we’ll have whatever you want for dinner.” You pulled away, but kept your hands on his shoulders. “Sound good?”

His eyes lit up. “Yeah! That’s good!” His smile grew and he quickly hugged you again before skipping to the door. Before entering, he turned and waved to you, then went inside. You returned the gesture and stood up to make your way home.

Once the day ended, you went to pick him up. He was waiting at the front, looking around before his eyes landed on you and lit up at the sight. He ran to you and hugged your legs.

He told you all about his day and that he made a few friends. But he didn’t like his teacher and didn’t really tell you exactly why.

As the year went on, he seemed to have fun. He did complain about a few things, but it didn’t sound too terrible. You had met some of the staff and thought they were lovely.

Dazai, who seemed to be the main teacher, had come up to you at some point to whine about being threatened with bombs. And any time parents and teachers met up, he just says to you that Chuuya wasn’t nice with him.

He just complained about anything and everything, no matter how minor the “offense” was.

At the news of the bomb threats, you didn’t know how to react. You just stood there, thinking why a nice kid like Chuuya would throw out some bomb threats, to his teacher especially.

“I’ll talk to him when we get home,” you told Dazai before leading Chuuya away. And talk to him you did. He wasn’t happy about the lecture.

In general, Chuuya’s a very good child except for when he’s around Dazai, for some reason. He tries to be all mature, but you know that he loves all the children stuff.

He loves Odasaku Man and always plays the episodes when he gets home from school. At this point, you know the whole script of the show.

Doesn’t matter what meal he’s having, he wants milk as his drink. “I want to grow taller!” (Throughout all the years, he didn’t grow as much as he wanted)

The books he reads, he wants to read all the adult books (You never let him), but for bedtime stories, he goes with the picture books and fun plots.

You’ve also seen the other kids in his class, and you’re a little hesitant on the ones he’s best friends with. They might not be the best influence for later in life, but you’ll let him choose his friends. You’ll just make sure he knows how to take care of himself, but he’s still your little baby boy.

One of them is also wearing a strange outfit. He looks like a pilgrim and you feel like him and Chuuya could relate with the odd clothing. He seems cute. [Talking about Akutagawa]

You’re not even sure if Dazai is the best teacher. He’s gone onto his knees and pleaded with you to join him in a double suicide, and you’re skeptical. How was he approved to be teaching the class?

(Bonus) Romance with Dazai:

Despite your doubt concerning Dazai, you’ve somehow gained feelings for him. You never really acted upon them, just letting them exist. Sure, he may flutter your heart once or twice, but you’re not going to ask him out. If he were to somehow reciprocate, you’ll leave the confession to him.

And he did ask you out. Albeit, in a weird way. You still accepted, agreeing to go out with him. You had also befriended Yosano and Kouyou, so you left Chuuya under Kouyou’s care while you were out.

The two of you hit it off, so now you’re both in a relationship. You didn’t tell Chuuya because you knew he would throw a fit whenever Dazai was mentioned. You kinda regret not telling him, but oh well.

He noticed you and Dazai beginning to get closer, and he thought it was weird but shrugged it off as weird adult things. Then Dazai kissed your hand, which he’s kinda done before, but Chuuya was never used to it, so he just loudly gagged at the sight, letting his thoughts be known.

One time, you told Chuuya to wait for you at a specific spot because you wanted to talk with Dazai. He obeyed and started idly playing with the dirt for a while before looking in your direction, wondering why you were taking a bit. You seemed to be saying goodbye to his teacher, but Dazai planted a kiss? On your cheek?

His face morphed into a horrified expression as he let out a shocked sound. He ran up to you, tugging on your clothes and begging you to get away from Dazai.

Really, all he did was throw a tantrum. You excused yourself and took him home, where he locked himself in his room for the rest of the night.

You decided to let him do his thing for tonight, peeking into his room at midnight to see him sleeping in an awkward position on his bed. At least he put on his sleepwear before laying on the mattress.

You repositioned him, gently kissing his head, then left to your own room.

The next morning, he said good morning to you and apologized for his behavior. You forgave him, of course. It’s not his fault that his teacher and guardian got together and didn’t let him know.

Whenever he sees you and Dazai do anything that could be classified as romantic, he just gags and says “Disgusting!” Or “Ew!”

You had asked him to be as respectful as he could towards Dazai, but you didn’t really expect much from him. You just wanted them to at the very least tolerate each other.

He indeed did not act as nice as you wanted. Chuuya would still be the little rebellious kid he apparently was in the class, even more so with Dazai as his parental figure’s boyfriend.

Now, the brunette had two advantages in the power dynamic. Not only could he have the upperhand as Chuuya’s teacher, but also as his future dad. He poked fun at the boy and if Chuuya tried to retaliate in some way, Dazai would just complain to you.

With you, Chuuya is an absolute angel, always smiling at you, cuddling up to you, doing whatever you say, bringing you little gifts, and the like. With Dazai, he was the opposite.

That little demon, he would be louder, cause more trouble than usual, throw little fits, give Dazai weird looks, and more. It’s like Chuuya’s only goal when around Dazai was to make his life hell. And it kinda was.

One time, you had to run some errands, but couldn’t bring Chuuya along. Luckily, there was no school that day, so Dazai came over to babysit. It should be easy, right? Chuuya wouldn’t want to cause any trouble in his parent’s house, would he?

When you opened the door to your home, it was a mess. Furniture was out of place, the TV was on, there was food on the floor, and in the middle of it all, Dazai and Chuuya froze. The former holding the child away from him while Chuuya was biting Dazai’s wrist. They both looked roughed up.

“What happened here?” You slowly asked, closing the door behind you. You placed down whatever was in your arms and removed any articles of clothing, putting them in their proper place.

“Oh, my lovely significant other who I deeply cherish and wish to spend the rest of my life with! I was just handling your little demon!” Dazai’s smile was tight as he placed Chuuya onto the floor. The latter removed his teeth from where they were. “I know it looks terrible, but we were just bonding! Right, Chuuya?”

The boy flinched at his tone before running to you and jumping onto you. You held onto him as he buried his face in your neck. “Mom/Dad! Dazai was a big meanie! Why are you even with him? He tried to hurt me!”

Dazai scoffed, “I did not! You were biting me! And you saw it, (Name).” He sighed, going into the kitchen and wetting a paper towel. “I’ll start cleaning...”

Although the two of them were troublesome at times, you loved them both. You knew Chuuya would grow into a strong gentleman. It doesn’t matter what he will do for the rest of his life, he will always be your baby.

Honestly, when you first felt like taking care of someone, it was an impulsive decision. But you’re glad that you went through with it, otherwise you wouldn’t be with Chuuya.

End Note: When KiwiBean first watched Wan, they thought Chuuya had a Christian fit, while Akutagawa had a pilgrim one. So, thanks to them!

Honestly, it took a few months to convince them to watch BSD, and they watched a few out of context before seeing the first episode. A few days to continue watching, and now they’re hooked. [I kept repeating BSD until random thoughts of Dazai and Chuuya’s name just ran through their head. :)]

[flawlessassholes]

Will we ever be blessed with more adventures of dirtbag Daniel x girl max?

considering they haunt my every waking moment with their disgustingness and love? yeah. Yeah. anyways here’s ~800 words of max trying to ‘apologize’ to daniel after baku 2017. (the apology may or may not be an offer of anal.) more under the cut!

It’s a tense fucking debrief after Max crashes him out of Hungary.

She’s red-faced, pouty, glaring at the table like it’s the steward who handed her the 10-second penalty. It wasn’t enough, Daniel thinks uncharitably. She’s going to be forced to apologize, and Daniel’s not going to accept. If she’s gonna act like the rookie she pretends not to be, then he’ll act like one back. She needs to learn that her actions have consequences, and since Christian wants to treat her like his golden little princess, that apparently falls to him.

The sun’s just gone down when she knocks on his motorhome’s door.

She’s still red-faced but freshly showered, her hair pulled back into two braids. Dutch, she explained after they fucked after he won Baku.

They haven’t since then. They won’t tonight, seeing as he’s still vacillating between throttling her and demanding she get sent back to Torro Rosso.

She holds up two beers. Awkward and stiff, like she doesn’t want to be here.

Daniel raises his eyebrows. “What are those? Apology beers?”

She nods.

He shuts the door in her face.

Childish, but Daniel never claimed to be anything otherwise.

“Daniel!” He can hear her huff. “Fuck you, Daniel, I am trying to be nice and do the right thing, and you of course won’t even let me because you are a massive dick and will only listen to me if—”

“Jesus Christ,” he yanks the door open to shut her up. He doesn’t know what’s at the end of her sentence, but he’s pretty sure Max isn’t above saying if I’m on your dick.

Which is, like, true. But he doesn’t need the entire paddock knowing that.

“Can you be any louder?” He asks. He shouldn’t because if there’s one thing he’s learned about Max between being teammates and fucking around with her, it’s that she’s got the humor of a nineteen-year-old guy when it comes to sex jokes.

Sure enough, she opens her mouth, big pink lips stretching wide, and he rolls his eyes. “Save it, will you? I’m not in the mood to pretend to laugh at your jokes.”

Max’s eyes narrow. “At least are you going to let me in?”

“Why, so you can give me a shitty beer and tell me that it wasn’t really your fault?”

“Well, I was going to let you fuck my ass, but—”

The rest of the sentence is lost to the sound of blood rushing to his head, or out of it, and him grabbing Max by the arm and pulling her inside, the door of the motorhome slamming shut.

“Jesus Christ, Max, you can’t just say that.”

“Well,” she says, far too smug. “It got me inside.”

“Oh, so that was just a tactic?”

Max frowns. “No, I meant it?”

Daniel shakes his head, takes one of the beers from her hand, opens it on the counter, and downs half of it as he sits on his couch, legs sprawled wide.

He wipes his mouth. Max is staring at his crotch. “It won’t be nice,” he says. “I’m too pissed at you to be nice.”

“I don’t need nice,” Max says immediately. Haughty. She sets the other beer on the counter and walks over to him. Most girls would try to be sexy, but Max is incapable. But despite her clunky, boyish walk, she still fucking is.

She straddles his lap, just like he taught her. “And you, of course, are never nice anyway.”

Max is a fast fucking learner when it comes to sex. Half a year ago, she couldn’t even initiate a kiss, and now she’s nosing at his neck and grinding on his lap. She’s still, like, hella awkward with it. But her inexperience—it’s heavy. And fucking hot. He said he wanted to be her first everything, and Max is apparently content to let him have at it.

He captures those plush, bitten lips in a hungry kiss, shamelessly groping her ass in her ugly khaki shorts. He can’t resist—he smacks her ass once, hard, and she yelps into his mouth.

“I am upset with you,” he says. She’s still writhing against him. Kinky. Neat.

“I am sorry,” she says, breathless as she pulls away. Then she climbs out of his lap, gangly and ungraciously, and pulls off her shirt and sports bra in one go.

He’ll never admit it, but her tits do make him forget why he’s mad in the first place.

“Alright,” he says, standing. “You want me to fuck your ass?”

He grabs her hips and spins her around so her ass is flush against his mostly-hard dick. He grinds against her, and she moans as she nods.

God, another first. He’s high with the thought.

He steps back. Spanks her ass again. “Get on the bed.”

[skyward-floored]

Here’s my (very late) birthday fic for @kikker-oma, it’s based off her art for day 17 of whumptober!

(Which at least one other person has already written a fic for but I didn’t realize until after I’d already started writing it so any similarities are pure coincidence 😅)

https://www.tumblr.com/kikker-oma/731400216730828800?source=share

I hope you like it Oma, happy (very belated) birthday!!!

————————————————————

Something was wrong with Legend.

Time could see it in the way the teenager walked, his steps heavy and dragging. How he lingered at the back of the group and barely spoke, mostly just nodding along to whatever it was Wind was telling him, and didn’t go out of his way to speak to anyone, his words sharp and vicious when he did.

Normally Time wouldn’t think twice about Legend being a little extra antisocial and standoffish. He was often grumpy (though Time had seen his soft interior once or twice in the brief time they’d been traveling together), and it wasn’t surprising his mood would get a little more severe now and then.

No, the worrying thing was that it had been several days since the behavior began, and it hadn’t gone away yet.

If anything, it had gotten worse.

Legend seemed to get more lethargic and snappish as they traveled across the wilderness of Wild’s Hyrule, keeping to himself even more intensely, and largely ignoring the rest of them. He’d gotten paler too, in just the few days of whatever this was, and Time was only growing more concerned.

It was worrying. Incredibly so.

Time had been keeping a closer eye on Legend ever since he’d realized something was up, and most of the others seemed to catch on that something was wrong as well, but nobody had confronted Legend about it yet. Or if they had, hadn’t succeeded at all in fixing the problem. Twilight had tried to tactfully approach the subject just that morning, and Legend had nearly bitten his head off in response.

Time wasn’t sure what to do, and he wasn’t the only one.

After all, none of them liked to admit something was wrong with themselves— Time himself was certainly guilty of that— but Legend, prickly as he was, was one of the worst. Confronting him head-on about whatever the issue was would only make him more likely to deny anything was wrong at all, as Twilight had already demonstrated earlier.

But someone needed to get through to him, before something snapped.

And later that day, Time finally got a chance.

They’d reached a good spot to stop for the night, Time watching Legend like a hawk the entire trip there. The veteran had nearly tripped on nothing a few times, but had covered it up so quickly nobody could call him out on it.

They had eaten dinner fairly quietly for once, Wild roasting some mushrooms and meat of some kind. Legend kept to himself during the meal, barely picking at his food, and staying out of the conversation. Everyone pretended not to watch, but it was almost laughable how obvious it was that they were all keeping an eye on him, the worry hanging like a cloud over the group.

And Legend seemed to have noticed the increased scrutiny, as later when the heroes were all settling down for the night— cleaning up dinner, getting out bed rolls— Legend stood and told them all he was going to patrol around.

“Really? Are you sure?” Hyrule piped up, and Four frowned from next to him when Legend nodded.

“...By yourself?” the smithy asked.

A very slight edge of concern lay in his voice, and Legend’s shoulders immediately hiked up to his ears.

“What, you think I can’t handle myself?” he shot back in a sharper tone than normal, and Four quickly raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.

“Of course not Vet, I know you can,” he reassured, and Warriors stepped in.

“Exactly. It’s just dark, and we’re in unfamiliar territory, that’s all,” Warriors put in, and Legend turned to glare at him.

“Yet that’s never an issue when Twilight goes off by himself,” Legend snapped. “Shove off Captain. I’m the veteran, remember? I’ll be fine.”

Then before anyone could stop him, he disappeared into the trees.

All of them watched in an uncomfortable silence as Legend stomped away, and Time stopped Twilight when he went to follow him, placing a hand on his arm.

“Best we wait until he’s calmer,” he said, and Twilight exhaled, then sat down. “...And probably best someone who hasn’t made him mad yet go.”

“I think that’s just you at this point,” Sky pointed out, and Time paused, then sighed as he realized Sky was right. Every single one of the rest of the group had been the target of Legend’s ire in the past few days. Time somehow was the only one who had escaped unscathed... which made him the perfect candidate to follow Legend now.

“All right,” he agreed somewhat reluctantly, and settled down to wait.

“Hylia be with you,” Wild muttered as he cleaned his cooking pot. “You’re gonna need her.”

(...)

Half an hour later, as the others either went to bed or tried to busy themselves, Time got up and headed in the direction that Legend had stormed off in.

The moon was large and bright in the sky, and Time almost didn’t need the lantern he’d brought to find Legend’s trail. Though despite the moonlight lighting his path and the assistance of the lantern, it took Time much longer to find the hunched-over figure of Legend then he’d thought it would.

Legend had gone a fair distance from camp, and plunked himself down on a large fallen tree, his head bowed as he stared at the ground. He didn’t react when Time stepped a bit closer, and Time frowned as he watched him for a moment.

Were his shoulders shaking?

Time purposely crunched a few leaves to signal his presence, and Legend’s ear twitched in response. He didn’t do anything else though, and didn’t look at Time when he carefully sat down beside him on the log and set down the lantern.

An owl hooted nearby, and Time listened to it a moment before letting out a quiet sigh.

“They can be an overbearing bunch, can’t they?” he remarked in the silence, the owl going quiet.

Legend flicked an ear, and didn’t respond.

“...They mean well, though,” Time continued when the silence stretched between them. ”They’re not trying to be overwhelming, or even nuisances. They’re... just concerned about you, Vet.”

Legend let out a little huff of air that almost sounded amused.

“Right,” he said flatly. “Well they shouldn’t bother, there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

His hand tightened where it was held around his waist, and Time couldn’t help but notice when it did. Legend’s face seemed paler in the moonlight shining down on it as well, but when he saw Time staring at him, he scowled.

“Go back to camp old man, I’m fine,” he muttered.

Time took a deep breath. Nayru grant me wisdom, here’s where it gets tricky.

“The way you’ve been acting the past few days seems to speak towards a different answer,” he said in a level voice.

“Well whatever it is you think you’ve noticed is all in your imagination,” Legend shot back, clutching his middle even tighter.

Time looked at it again, and paused in what he was about to say as a thought suddenly dawned on him. He couldn’t remember for sure, not everything at least, but if he was right... would Legend really do something so detrimental to his health like that?

“Legend... when was the last time you ate anything?”

Legend’s mouth turned into a thin, hard line.

Ah-ha.

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is if you’re pushing yourself not to for some reason,” Time said, firmness creeping into his tone as he watched the boy. “We have plenty of supplies Legend, why aren’t you eating?”

“I never said I wasn’t,” Legend snapped back, glaring at him. “And even if I am, maybe I’m just not hungry.”

“Not hungry at all?” Time asked with a raised eyebrow, thinking back to the past several days. “Legend, I don’t seem to recall you actually eating anything recently, you can’t just starve yourself.”

“Oh yeah? Well maybe it would be better for everyone if I did!”

Time blinked in surprise, and Legend’s anger seemed to falter a moment, something horribly vulnerable cracking through the prickly mask he’d thrown on. But he quickly tossed it back over himself, despite the tears trying to gather in his eyes, and his expression reverted back to the anger he’d possessed a few moments ago.

“Link,” Time said quietly, and Legend looked away. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Okay? Would you shove off?”

“Legend,” Time said imploringly, and Legend’s ears pinned back against his head.

“Look I’ve handled it alone before, I can handle it now,” Legend suddenly bit out, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s just— nothing!”

“Nothing wouldn’t make you raise your voice like this,” Time pointed out.

“Well it is!” Legend said in a slightly quieter tone, though it still shook in anger.

Something in Time’s chest ached at the rawness in his voice and the tears that had returned to his eyes. Legend’s lip was trembling, but he was firmly biting down on it to stop it from doing so, and he looked like he was close to losing what control he had left.

Time studied him more intently, trailing carefully over skin flushed with anger, over shaking fists and shoulders, at the hand still held close to his middle.

The shakiness, refusing to eat, the paleness of his face...

Time’s eye widened as a new thought crossed his mind, and he exhaled, reaching a careful hand towards Legend.

“Link, you’re sick, aren’t you?” Time asked in a soft voice, and Legend’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “That’s at least part of this, isn’t it?”

Legend slapped away his extended hand.

“Go away,” he bit out, something truly dangerous in his voice, but Time was nearing the eye of the storm and he wasn’t prepared to back out now. “Go back to camp, wander in the woods or whatever, I don’t care. Just leave.”

“Legend,” Time said, shifting closer. “You can’t keep ignoring this. You nearly fell over earlier, how long have you been feeling ill?”

“There’s nothing to ignore,” Legend snarled. “Just— just leave me alone.”

“I can’t do that,” Time said, his voice soft, but firm. “You need help, and I won’t—”

“I don’t!” Legend shouted, his voice hoarse. He tried to get to his feet, but Time quickly caught him by the wrists, stopping him from leaving. “Just— let go!”

Time shook his head, and Legend tried to jerk out of his hold with no success.

The teenager’s wrists were warm in his grasp, and Time could feel them shaking, though he wasn’t sure if it was from anger or the illness Legend was fighting. Either way, he wasn’t making any headway in escaping, even though Time was sure Legend would have normally been halfway across the forest by now.

Legend tried to swing a fist at Time, but he didn’t succeed in the slightest, the older hero still holding him tight.

“What’s wrong, Link?” he asked, and Legend only struggled harder in his grip.

“Let go!”

Time shook his head, and Legend let out a cry of frustration.

His eyes were glassy with tears as he glared, and his breath came in short pants as he tried desperately to free himself. Legend’s facade of being perfectly fine had dropped in his anger and panic, and Time was now wondering how on earth any of them had missed just how bad things had gotten.

“Leave me ALONE old man!” Legend shouted.

But Time kept holding him, equally gentle and firm as he tried to lurch away. He met Legend’s eyes, stormy and swirling with emotion, and gave his hands a soft squeeze.

“Legend, son, please let me help you,” he said softly.

Legend’s face twisted with rage.

“Don’t call me that!” he nearly screamed, and tried one last time to pull Time’s arms out of his grip.

But he was too weak to free himself, the sickness affecting his strength. Legend couldn’t do anything but struggle, his breath coming in quick gasps, wrists trembling in Time’s hold as he tried to free himself with one last burst of desperation.

Then he crumpled forward, a sob wracking his body.

Time’s eye widened, and he caught Legend, immediately running a hand through his bangs. His forehead was hot where Time’s fingers brushed it, and Legend was shaking so hard he felt like he would fall apart, Time soothing him as he sobbed again.

“Legend, easy,” Time whispered, panic trying to burrow into his chest. He’d never seen Legend like this, screaming and crying and showing his emotions in such a blatantly un-Legend way. And he didn’t exactly have experience with soothing sobbing, feverish teenagers, but Legend was acting so strange...

There’s something else at play here then just a virus, Time thought worriedly, Legend letting out an unsightly hiccup.

All of Legend’s strength seemed to have been used up by their argument, and he lay nearly limp against Time’s arm, shivering, with tears still escaping the corners of his eyes.

“What’s wrong, Link?” Time asked again, careful and soft.

This time Legend didn’t try to pull away or scream at him. He merely let out a quiet breath, one that shuddered on the exhale.

“I... I don’t...” Legend croaked, his eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t... again.”

“You can’t what?” Time asked, and Legend swallowed, tears trickling down his cheeks. Time shifted his grip a little so that Legend’s head rested more comfortably on his shoulder, and waited for him to continue.

“...Care,” Legend whispered finally. His hand tightened where it was fisted in Time’s shirt. “Every time I-I care, someone gets... hurt. I get hurt, I... I can’t again, not...”

He let out a shuddering breath, and his eyes squeezed more tightly shut.

“I don’t want you all to care,” he whispered.

Time looked down at the boy in his arms, shivering and feverish and trying so desperately to fight through it himself, and exhaled.

Oh.

Legend curled into himself at the admission, tears still falling down his cheeks, and Time suddenly saw himself, trying to keep a safe distance from everyone who tried to care for him, afraid of anyone slipping past his barriers and finding the scared little boy hiding behind so desperate for love.

Time swallowed.

We’re all horribly similar, are we not?

“...Being known is a terrifying thing,” Time said after several moments of silence drifted past, voice barely a whisper.

Legend shuddered again.

“I used to think it impossible,” Time whispered. “To be known, but not hurt. Drifting along and staying unattached seemed best, safer. Even when I was in desperate need of help, taking care of myself... seemed like it would hurt less. Without Malon, I have no doubts I would still be that way.”

Time sighed, and looked down at Legend, not even sure if the words were getting through his fever.

“Legend... you don’t have to tell us everything. But we are a team. Brothers, in spirit if not by blood. By merit of those things alone... we care for you,” he said simply. “I have no doubt that if any one of us were in the condition you’re currently in, you would be caring for them as fiercely as anything.“

Time shifted, and met Legend’s eyes, puffy and red, and bright with fever and exhaustion.

“Let us do the same for you.”

Legend closed his eyes and let his head fall back against Time’s shoulder, face scrunched slightly with pain. Several long moments went by, and then Legend let out an exhausted exhale, and gave Time the smallest nod he’d ever seen.

“...Sure. Fine,” he muttered, almost so quietly Time didn’t hear him. “...But only because my head is pounding so hard I can’t... think of anything better at the moment.”

“Trying is half the battle,” Time said with a faint smile, and Legend sighed again, heavy and exhausted.

Time pulled Legend up into his arms, and noted with a bit of worry that Legend was rather frail in his hold, still shivering. And normally the veteran would protest up and down about being carried, but Legend was completely silent, only a few leftover sniffles coming from him as Time hooked the lantern he’d brought to his belt so his hands would be free.

It truly was a miracle Legend had lasted this long without collapsing in front of them all— but Time knew the power of stubbornness when it came to this sort of thing. Malon was still mad at him for that time he’d tried to milk the cows when he’d had that broken wrist.

It was still impressive, though.

I wonder how long he’s had a fever, he wondered as Legend shifted in his arms. One this intense wouldn’t just appear... it must have been at least a day or two.

“...Don’t tell the others,” Legend suddenly whispered as Time began to walk back to camp, and Time looked down at him. “About... you know.”

Time nodded. “The only thing they get to know about is you being sick,” he promised, and Legend relaxed a bit further in his arms.

When they got back to camp, everyone stared, but nobody commented on Legend’s tear-streaked face, or the fact that he was shivering and being carried. Twilight made eye contact with Time, looking at Legend in concern, and Time mouthed the word ‘fever’.

Twilight’s face softened with understanding, and he quickly put out Legend’s bedroll so Time could get Legend into it.

Legend didn’t resist, and the others didn’t directly address the fact that he had obviously been hiding the fact that he was sick from them all. They merely went about their business, occasionally drifting by where Legend was lying in his bedroll, offering a few words, or some food, or just quiet company that offered to place a wet cloth on his forehead.

And when Legend finally fell asleep, he looked more relaxed then Time had seen him in weeks.

[archerlullaby]

Hello friends! It’s been a long while since I posted, but here’s a piece based off of @kikker-oma ‘s incredible whumptober art! Go check it out!

Sky is tired. So tired. Tired of walking, tired of how his lungs burn when the forest grows thick, tired of how his callouses tore after the fifth time he raised it in battle today. Tired of—

“Pick up your feet Sky. By what Wild says, we won’t make it to Necluda if we keep going at this pace.”

Warriors pats him on the back and moves ahead of him without even so much as a glance. Sky closes his eyes in agitation but sighs his annoyance away. You’re the peacemaker. The peacemaker is calm. The peacemaker smiles. You don’t get upset with your brothers, especially when they’re just trying to help. “Sky! What’d I tell you? Hurry it up!” Warriors’s voice breaks through his calming mantra and Sky grits his teeth.

“Yes! Coming!” He picks up his feet, catching up with the group with a wheeze he hides in his sleeve.

The sun grows hot, and though the surface world of Wild’s land is beautiful, it seems to have a personal vendetta against Sky’s lungs. Having spent most of his life up in the Skyloft where the airborne irritants are few, this forest full of different flowers, trees, and grasses is a far throw from what his lungs are used to. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long until he feels that oh-so familiar band tightening around his chest. He focuses his breaths, trying to ignore the urge to cough, to yawn, to do anything to get more air in his chest so that the group doesn’t catch on.

“If you’re having trouble breathing, Sky, you should loosen your sailcloth. It likely doesn’t help being tied around your neck like that,” Warriors says, shooting him a backwards glance as if to say “I can hear you choking on the very air you breathe, dumbass.” Sky smiles thinly and tugs at the knot, loosening it slightly. Obviously that wasn’t what he meant. Warriors is just trying to help, as always, Sky chides himself.

“Right as always, Captain. Thank you.”

“Hmmm,” Warriors replies, giving Sky a quick once-over with a raised brow before turning forward again. Sky grits his teeth, hanging back away from the group to gather his thoughts and squash the buzz of annoyance that has once again invaded his headspace.

Master, I detect a rise in blood pressure and slight emotional instability. I suggest you take a break.

Fi’s voice echoes in his head and, unlike the usual calming affect her voice has, it only serves to muddle his thoughts.

“Now’s not the time, Fi,” Sky mutters.

On the contrary, master. There is a high probability of both your physical and mental health deteriorating further if you do not rest soon.

Sky merely groans inwardly and puts his focus into making one foot go in front of the other, which would be a relatively easy task had Warriors not fallen back to walk astride him.

“Sky, I think we need to work a little on proper hand care. A warrior is only as effective with a blade as his hands are capable of holding it, and I can tell that yours are hurting,” Warriors chides gently. The buzzing in Sky’s head gets louder.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks,” he replies stiffly. Warriors huffs.

“You’re not taking me seriously.”

“Now is not a good time, Wars.”

“Well, forgive me for trying to help you!” Warriors throws his hands in the air dramatically. “Listen. I’m just worried about you. I can tell you’re in pain, and I have a lot of experience with—”

Sky stops in his tracks, allowing the group to move ahead, leaving him alone with the other man. The annoyance that has been simmering all day suddenly ignites into something hotter. “Oh, and I don’t have experience?” He says, his voice low. Warriors looks at him with surprise, then rolls his eyes.

“Goddesses, Sky, don’t be ridiculous, you know that’s not what I meant. What’s with you?”

“What’s with me? What’s with you?”

Warriors opens his mouth to retort but Time’s voice rings out from ahead.

“It’s a dangerous place to fall behind!” Time says, the warning clear. Warriors gives one last look at Sky before turning on his heel and stalking back towards the group. Sky knew it was foolish to get in a fight over something so meaningless, but he was just so damn exhausted. He put a shaky hand to his chest and took a too-shallow breath. Can’t think straight. Can’t breathe right. Apparently I can't even take care of myself, according to Mr. High and Mighty, Sky thinks bitterly.

When he finally gathers himself enough to continue walking, the group is far enough ahead to where he can’t discern who is talking. Unease shoots through him and he begins to jog to catch up, but doubles over in a fit of coughing in just a few measly steps. When it finally subsides, he wipes the spittle from the edges of his mouth with one hand, his other supporting himself on his knee. With a groan of exasperation, he tries to blink away the spots in his vision

Master, behind—

“SKY!”

Sky looks up blearily to see Wild sprinting at him with a familiar glint in his eye just in time for a spear to imbed itself into the ground less than six inches from his boot. He has the right sense to throw himself to the side just as a Lizalfos’s tail sweeps the air right where his legs were a moment ago. Still recovering from his coughing fit, he wheezes as his hand reaches for the Master Sword, easily pulling the blade from the sheathe but not without throwing him off balance as he backpeddles away from the long reach of the monster’s spear. He lands on his back on the forest floor, bringing the sword up to defend himself best he could as the Lizalfos jumps on top of him.

Before it could complete its attack, a blur of royal blue body slams the creature off of him, both figures tumbling to ground with a thud. Twilight is not far behind, pulling Wild up with a single hand as the duo faces off with the creature. A hand tugs Sky up to his feet.

“Are you injured?” Time’s steady voice cuts through the air. Sky merely shakes his head, turning to help Twilight and Wild, but finds that the two have already dealt the final blow. Wild flicks his sword expertly to clean his blade, a grin on his face as Twilight glowers at him.

“Seriously? You have almost every weapon in the books and yet you still choose to tackle it?” Twilight baps Wild upside the head before chuckling. “Black-blooded too? You’re a maniac.”

Sky shoots Wild a shaky smile.

“Thanks, champ. I was in a bad way,” he says quietly. Wild merely shrugs.

“Sure thing. Also, we should keep moving. Where there’s one, there’s more,” he replies, before pointing and walking back to the path. “We’re only about an hour out. We can get to a safe part of the woods before the sun sets.”

The group follows Wild and Sky falls into line, acutely aware of how Warriors has not said a single word through the entire ordeal. The adrenaline wears off, leaving Sky feeling worse than he was before.

Just as Wild promised, they reach a clearing just as the sun touches the horizon. With a groan, Wind drops his pack and flops onto the ground.

“Ughh! My feet are falling off!” Wind exclaims, voice muffled by the grass. Sky watches as Warriors approaches the youngest and laughs, squatting beside the boy and ruffling his hair.

“Oh, come on, sailor! You could’ve asked me to carry you! Or we could have slowed it down a bit!” Warriors grins down at Wind.

Outrage. Slowed down a bit? Anger shoots through Sky as he hears Warriors continue to talk to Wind. Where was that sympathy when I couldn’t breathe? When he knew I was struggling?

Master, your heart rate has jumped to 115 beats per minute, an increase of 64.23 percent from two minutes ago. Sitting down would be a logical course of action.

“Yes. Yep. Sitting down, thanks Fi,” Sky makes out through gritted teeth. Taking off his armor and setting the Master Sword aside, he does his best to breathe. Rolling up his sleeves, he basks in the cooling air. He sits with eyes closed, face towards the darkening forest, listening to the sounds of the coming night, the crickets chirping, the frogs croaking. All is well. All is well and you are calm. You are the peacemaker…

“—Do not believe he should take watch tonight. I am not confident in his line of thinking right now,” Warriors’s voice cut through Sky’s meditation. Sky’s eyes snap open as he tunes in to what was clearly supposed to be a private conversation. Not confident?

“Can you check on him?”

“Time, I don’t think that’s a good idea. He clearly wants to be alone, and to be honest, I don’t feel like holding a conversation with him right now.”

“Warriors—”

“Don’t, Time. He’s been off all day, and there are already tensions between us. And with that stunt he pulled earlier? I already told him once to catch up. His lackadaisical actions could’ve gotten people hurt, or worse. Something has to change. I’m trying to figure out what to do with him.”

Sky heard Time say something in return, but the anger that had clouded his mind blocked it out. He rose slowly, turning towards the two with rage written across his face. Time notices him first and places a hand on Warriors’s shoulder.

“What to do with me?” He hisses, stalking towards Warriors.

“Sky—” Warriors starts, tugging out of Time’s grasp.

“What to do with me?” Sky stops nearly chest-to-chest with the other man. “What am I? A child?”

“No, Sky, that’s not—”

“Or maybe I’m one of your soldiers that you can command? Is that it, Captain?”

Warriors’s gaze darkens. “Well then, maybe, if it would help you get your head out of the clouds, perhaps it would be best to start thinking like the knight you are, Skyloftian,” he replies.

Sky was breathing hard, his wheezing starting to come back. Fi chimes from where he left her, but he ignores her warning. “You have been on my ass all day! There is no doing anything right with you is there? Because you’re always so perfect!”

“I’ve been helping you all day, because you clearly need it! Maybe you should use that head of yours to listen!”

“I don’t need your help!” Sky’s voice has risen, drawing attention from the others. Time merely stands aside with crossed arms, electing to let the two men settle their differences. “I don’t need you to tell me how fast to walk, I don’t need you to tell me how to take care of myself, I don’t need your two-sense on if I am capable of standing watch or not!”

“Is that so? Then explain to me how you got yourself trapped under the spear of a Lizalfos if not for you and your lack of ability to think for yourself?” Warriors spits.

Rage makes Sky’s mind go blank. He shoves the other man before gathering his tunic in his fist, pulling Warriors towards him, their faces mere inches apart. Sky could feel angry tears burning his eyes, and he was angry, so angry, and so, so tired.

“I’m getting real tired of you treating me like the village idiot, Captain!” Sky snarls.

Warriors’s hand wraps easily around Sky’s wrists, pressing bruises into the skin as he leans forward, his face red with anger. “You are way out of line, Chosen,” he snarls and yanks on Sky’s arm, which doesn’t budge. “You need to step back before I make you.”

Chosen? I’ll show you chosen, is Sky’s last conscious thought before he raises his lips in a snarl.

“Make me.”

M-STR…N-ED…TO…CA-M…DOWN!

Fi’s voice rings and reverberates in his head, but he chooses to ignore it as the hair on his neck and arm rise, the buzzing in his head deafening. He fails to see how Warriors’s eyes change from anger to fear, or how he tries to pry Sky’s fist from his tunic. He is aware of yelling, and then Warriors is ripped from his grip and a strong pair of arms is encompassing his chest. A sharp pop fills the air, then silence, and the next thing he knows he’s gazing up at a sky full of stars, something hard at his back. There is an odd energy in the air, and it smells of ozone. Ozone? Oh…oh no. Oh no, no, no, what have I done?

“Ow.”

A voice in his ear snaps Sky out of his panic. “Time?”

“That’s me,” Time’s voice replies.

Sky scrambles off of him and turns, his hands ghosting over the other man.

“Did…did I burn you anywhere? Does your head feel okay? Oh, I’m so, so sorry!” Sky exclaims, tears springing to his eyes. Time merely chuckles from where he lays on the ground.

“I’m fine Sky. But maybe I won’t wear my armor next time you call electricity forth from your person,” he says with a wince as he sits up.

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay.”

“No, I really—”

“Sky.” Time stands and grabs him by the shoulders. “Don’t apologize to me. Gather yourself, and when you’re ready, go to Warriors. I believe a calm conversation would do you good. As adults.” Sky nods. Time looks at him skeptically. “And I reiterate, as adults,” he says again, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, I understand,” Sky murmurs, “Thank you.” Times nods and moves away, gesturing at the others to go about their business. Warriors is nowhere to be seen.

Sky makes his way over to his space, laying out his sleeping roll, gently refusing the food Wild brings to him (until Wild shoves it in his face with an unsettling glare), and apologizes to Fi for not heeding her warning. She chimes quietly in response, never one to hold a grudge. After several hours into the night, Sky still can’t sleep despite Fi’s gentle plea to get some rest, so he stands and searches the camp for Warriors. Legend, who is on watch, glances at Sky then simply juts his chin towards the edge of the camp, towards a large stump at the woodline. Sky smiles his thanks.

Gathering his courage, Sky walks towards the stump. On the other side, he can see the top of a blond head and a familiar blue scarf. Sky pauses just before reaching the stump.

“May I…join you?” Sky asks softly. Warriors merely gestures a spot next to him on the grass. Sky settles next to him, and they sit in silence for a while until Wars breaks it.

“So. Lightning,” he says. Sky winces inwardly.

“Oh…yeah. It’s a long story,” he replies, “And not a very happy one, unfortunately,” he adds quietly. Warriors nods understandingly. Silence again.

“Warriors—”

“It’s okay Sky.”

“No—”

“I should be the one apologizing to you,” Wars finally turns and faces him, regret in his eyes. “I was insensitive. Uncaring. I knew that you were being hurt by my words and I didn’t stop.”

Sky shook his head. “I was too lost in my own emotions to see that I was losing control. I almost hurt you out of anger. I hurt Time,” he sighs, resting his head in his hands. “You’re right. Sometimes I am too undisciplined to call myself a knight.”

Warriors shoves his shoulder. “None of that. We all have our moments. Yours wouldn’t have happened had I not been such a moblin-headed idiot,” he declares. “But truly. I am so very sorry, Sky. I was on edge already from traveling in Wild’s world and I took it out on you.”

Sky nods. “Thank you. And I’m sorry as well. For almost, you know…”

“Electrocuting me?”

Sky nods again.

“Eh. I deserved it,” Warriors chuckles. A smile pulls at the edges of Sky’s mouth and they fall into a comfortable silence. Warrior’s arm falls across Sky’s shoulders and he pulls him into a hug.

“You’re still my brother. You know that?” Wars mumbles into Sky’s hair.

“And you’re mine,” Sky replies softly, melting into the embrace as tears prick at his eyes for the third time that day. “I love all of you to death,” he adds.

“Yeah, we’re pretty great, huh?” The other laughs quietly, Sky chuckling in return.

They stay like that for a long while. The night grows colder and the moon is high in the cloudless sky, the stars dancing far above the canopy of trees below. Sky feels his eyelids grow heavy, the warm embrace lulling him into sleep until Warriors nudges him to sit up.

“You should go back to your bedroll and get some real sleep. I know you’re exhausted,” he tells Sky.

“Dn wnna mve,” Sky mumbles in response.

“Huh?”

“Try to move me again and I will strike you with lightning,” He says, cracking an eye open and glaring halfheartedly at Warriors, who laughs in response.

“Alright, alright! Sleep well, Sky,” he whispers. A beat. “And for what it’s worth, I love you too. You lot are the best family I could ever ask for.”

Sky smiles, pulling the soft fabric of the scarf over his shoulder, and falling into a dreamless sleep.

[julianalvarez9]

the fix up / christian pulisic

part 2: the battlefield

request: here author's note: part 3, everybody! this was a rollercoaster of emotions to write, so hopefully you can feel all of it too. let me know if you liked it 🤍🥹 wc: 2025 words

it hasn’t been long since your arrival in london.

at first, when you booked the ticket back here, you didn’t actually know why you had done it. the only thing tying you there was gone, and now, three months later, once the filming for the voice had ended, you were sure that there wasn’t anything -or anyone, for that matter-, waiting for you back at the airport.

except mason.

mason, who was the first to notice that something was wrong between christian and you. it started when he noticed his bad mood the day after you left, frown never leaving his once-kind features and the fact that he had gotten too rough and physical in practice only confirming his thoughts. he had confronted him about it once everyone left the locker room and it was the two of them alone, and that’s when his facade fell. christian started to cry like a little kid when he had to tell mason that you had left him, not even getting to say goodbye due to his stubbornness. the american even told his friend about the little red box that rested on his bedside table, where he kept the engagement ring he was planning on giving to you when the timing was right for both of you. back then, wound fresh after your split, it seemed like the right time would never arrive. that christian had lost his chance.

mason, who, even if you didn’t expect it, was the first one to congratulate you when the news broke out about your participation on the voice. you were sure that he already knew about your split with his best friend, so you wondered why wasn’t he taking his ‘side’. you so desperately wanted to know what christian had to say about it, how he was taking it, if he was as affected as you were; but you didn't want to use mason as a way to get to know how your ex was. it was funny, actually, how much you two tried to hide the elephant in the room. not once had he mentioned christian, and as you didn’t want to bring the topic first, it seemed like the two of you were constantly walking on eggshells around each other. but eventually, the need to know overpowered your better judgment, and mason became the only connection between christian and you while both tried to maintain the happy faces, pouring every bit of yourselves into work. 

chelsea’s number 19 was the main reason why you had bought a ticket back to the uk, and because of it, mason was the one that took you back from the airport and welcomed you into his home, wanting to avoid the unwanted attention since it was impossible for you to be back here without raising suspicions.

you almost don’t remember mason guiding you to his guest room, and you settling down to fall asleep. it's almost like merely a blink has passed, but suddenly, the daylight is hurting your tired eyes and an annoying ringing is piercing your ears. you certainly don’t remember even setting an alarm, but when you frantically press the screen of your phone to make the noise stop, you’re greeted with a familiar voice. at first, it seems like he's speaking a foreign language, the sleep that's slowing down your thoughts and the incessant rambling being too much to process.

“christian?”.

he keeps going, but now, you can pick up what he’s actually saying. “i know you hate me right now. and you have the right to hang up if-" he tries to go on, words piling up, leaving him breathless until you interfere. “i won’t do that, christian. what happened?” the question slipped before you could do anything about it, worried tone clearly recognisable through the line. it's like you can see him doubting and ruffling his hair before continuing. “so… mason told me you were back home,” he breathed, quickly correcting himself when he noticed his error. “i mean, you’re back in london”. you were way too asleep to figure out that he wasn’t actually seeing you nod, so you hummed in confirmation. 

“can i see you? it’s just been so tough these last couple of months without you," he added under his breath, sounding so small that you almost didn't understand. you wondered if he really thought the feelings were one-sided. to you, the wound was visible to everyone that came close, but you weren't interested in covering your pain, even though the only thing that you dared to show to the camera was your bright smile and bubbly personality. still, you were sure that, of the hundreds of people that got to see your facade every day, christian was the only one capable of seeing right through it. but apparently, not even the man that you thought knew you the most could crack the perfect image you had created. 

his voice brought you back when he muttered "i'm sorry, i really need you here” after moments of you not saying a word, and him not being sure whether your silence meant that you would hang up on him or not.

“yeah, it's okay, tell me where you are”.

“at the hospital. i really messed up my knee in the last match” he explained, and your breath stopped until he clarified that it wasn’t anything too serious. “i’m okay, though”.

when you arrive at the medical center and after the receptionist gives you directions of where his room was, you find yourself freezed at his door. the number plasticised on the door serving as confirmation that he's on the other side of the entrance, but you don’t seem to have the energy to knock. it's been three months since you’ve last seen him, and you're not sure if you can look him in the eyes and avoid the tears from falling down, reminiscing that dreadful day all over again. but something pushes you inside, and suddenly, you're in. 

christian’s seated on the hospital bed facing the big window in front of you. he’s there in all his glory, curls untamed and big hoodie hugging his figure. you assume that he has heard the door opening, because from one second to the next, he’s almost jumping to greet you. his body engulfed your figure whole, and for a second, all you can feel is him. his presence fills all your senses, and after months, you're finally home again. the tears pool quickly at your eyes when you realize you can actually smell him and feel his warmth reaching into your fingertips. living proof that he’s there, not like the millions of dreams you’ve had while you stayed an ocean away while at work. christian mutters a little “sorry” into your hair, and your heart tightens at hearing his voice again: no shouts or low blows this time, only regret seeping through his tone. you remember him saying it over the phone too, but now you understand what he meant.

“i’ve missed you,” you get the chance to say, and his arms immediately hug you tighter, letting you know throughout the physical act that he did too. “you shouldn’t be standing for this long, though” you joke after what seems to be a lifetime standing near the door, and you hush him to get his things so you can drive him to where he needs to go.

-

“where should i take you?” is the first thing you ask once you get in your car, after helping him get in. “to our place,” christian blurted out while putting on the seatbelt, the sentence so engraved on his mind that he didn't notice the slip up. you know it isn’t your place anymore, not since you had moved out months ago when you went back to the states, but you don’t say anything to correct him. “i’m sorry” he was quick to mutter, and although he referred to his error, christian couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he was sorry for.

i’m sorry for making you choose between your career and me. i’m sorry i didn’t make it work. i’m sorry i wasn’t the partner you deserved. i’m sorry i didn’t get to give you the ring before you left.

“ey, it's okay, don’t worry," your voice sounded almost strange to you, like you weren’t actually there. you weren’t sure if it was a product of your jetlag, or the prospect of having christian back on your passenger seat. you heard him sighing, relief draping over his shoulders after confirming that he hadn't messed it up, again.

-

coming back to what used to be your home feels unreal. everything is frozen in time, and it’s like you’ve never left. all the rooms are decorated exactly how you had done them the first time you moved in together, and how you had left it when you went away. everything was right into place, and you couldn’t believe that christian had ever paid enough attention to the little things you did to remember it all. even the white tulips -that you were certain he hated- were placed on the marble table in the kitchen, looking as bright and fresh as they did every time you bought them from the market.

“i can’t believe you got these,” you point at flowers, getting near and closing your eyes at the familiar scent, which prompted a smile to paint on christian’s features. “well, they were your favorite,” he shrugs, and sets to make a warm drink for the both of you, even if you complain that he shouldn't be standing for so long, again.

after a few minutes of being settled on the couch, he begins to talk. "you know, everything has gone wrong since you left,” he starts, and though you want to intervene, he signals that he hasn’t finished yet. “we started losing these stupid matches, and i just, wasn’t myself. not just on the pitch, but off too. mason was the first to notice.” he remembers, and a soft smile gets on your face in appreciation of the british boy who made sure to be there for him while you weren’t. “i felt like i was stuck on the day you left, the sound of the door closing all i could focus on for days. and then the knee…” christian moves, placing the mug on the coffee table in front of you, and he can’t look away from you now. “i'm surprised i didn't call you sooner. i thought about going to the states and apologizing a million times. i’m sorry i didn’t".

"don't be silly, christian. you know the club needs you, and your teammates too. everything will get better soon," you reassure, warm hand from holding the mug meets his arm, and you softly caress it in a loving motion. it comes as a second nature almost, and when you rationalize it you feel self conscious about it, but he soothes your thoughts when his hands find yours, interlocking fingers. “will you stay? here, in london?” christian asks, and his warm brown eyes sparkle with hope. you nod. “if that’s what you want. filming’s over, so…”

“please” he begs, and now he’s holding your hand with both of his. “i need you here. these couple of months made me understand that i can’t afford to lose you, y/n. you’re my home”.

you drop his hands for a second to let the mug with the -now turned cold- beverage into the little table, and he fears the worst: that he may have overstepped, that maybe you had someone else already. but suddenly you're capturing his lips with yours, and he melts. christian has missed your warmth, the comfort your frame brings him and how right it feels to have you back in his arms. the kiss is all you two could wish for it to be, and you find yourself pouring all the bottled up feelings that used to drown you before, not being able to pour them into songs, or unsent letters with all the words you couldn’t or didn’t get to say.

“you’re my home too, christian”.

part 4: war is over.

[makethatelevenrings]

Chag Sameach // Jewish!Batmom!Reader & family

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: a lot of mentions of food, I know that can be difficult around the holiday season

Summary: A blended family of faith comes together to celebrate the holiday season through Damian’s eyes

A/N: I’m not Jewish so please let me know if I messed anything up!! Happy Hanukkah my lovelies :) Bruce is canonically Jewish, Dick and Duke are in my mind Jewish, Jason IMO was raised Catholic, Tim is totally raised atheist as is Cass, Alfred is Anglican, and Steph was raised culturally Christian. She’s just here for the sweets.

Everyone was acting differently.

Todd wasn’t arguing with Father and instead, Damian passed him earlier in the kitchen where the crime lord had a “Kiss the Cook” apron on and was bent over a tray on the counter, piping bag clutched tightly in hand. Perhaps he was poisoning Drake…

Pennyworth was flitting between the kitchen and the main living room, glittering tinsel in hand that trailed after him along the carpet. Drake was somewhere with Thomas, both of them looking intently at their phones and whispering between each other. Brown and Cassandra were outside, that much he knew, doing who knows what.

Damian found Richard in the main hall balancing a tray in both hands with a large smile on his face. He lit up when he saw Damian and gestured with his head to follow him. Thus, the culprit of everyone’s strangely amicable behavior was located.

You.

Father’s wife.

The woman who clearly wasn’t suited to be the matriarch of the Wayne name. Not like his mother. You were not a warrior. In fact, Damian believed you to be completely helpless. Yet Father seemed taken by you and one of the stipulations about living here was that Damian must respect you. Even Richard was firm in that rule.

You stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as Father maneuvered a large pine tree into one of the corners of the room. You called out directions until Father stuck his head out from around the tree and leveled you with a stare Damian had seen him use on Ivy and Quinn. You merely smirked and raised your hands in a thumbs up. Father moved out from behind the tree and nodded at Damian before taking one of the trays from Grayson.

You turned and lit up at the sight of Damian. Despite his coldness towards you, you had never once been unkind. It grated on his nerves. Surely, you had some kind of ulterior motive as to your deceitful kindness. He was determined to get to the bottom of this.

“Damian, good afternoon!” you greeted. “You’re just in time. The sun sets in thirty minutes so we’ll light the chanukiah and then decorate the tree.”

You paused, a conflicted look passing over your face and then you sighed. “Oh, Damian, I’m sorry. I never thought to ask if you celebrate either.”

“Either?” He was confused by all the decorations and trinkets scattered around the room. It looked like a glitter bomb had gone off, but Pennyworth didn’t look too frazzled at the mess. It was then that he saw the kippah on Father and Richard’s heads.

“Tonight is the first night of Hanukkah,” you explained. “When Jason first joined us…”

You trailed off, pain glinting in your eyes at the thought of a young Todd compared to the man he was now. Father joined your side and laid a hand on your shoulder. You offered him a small, shy smile and whispered out a thanks.

“Your father, Dick, and I are all Jewish so we always celebrated Hanukkah. When Jason joined us, we figured it wasn’t fair that he and Alfred didn’t get to celebrate Christmas with others so we decided to combine the two. Hanukkahmas. Christmakkah. So, the first night of lighting the chanukiah, we also decorate the Christmas tree. It’s silly, but it’s our tradition.”

Richard swooped in then, laying a kiss on his adoptive mother’s cheek. He then ruffled Damian’s hair despite his best efforts to get away.

“Don’t worry, little D, we’ll celebrate Ramadan too for you.”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes! And if there’s any specific foods you like to break the fast, please let me know. We’d love to have you join us tonight, Damian.”

Based on the excited grin on Richard’s face, Damian couldn’t refuse. He sighed but relented, allowing Richard to put a red and white fluffy hat on his head. The brim slipped over his eyes and he shoved it back with a disgruntled huff, but you were grinning at the sight of the two boys' antics. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be a total disaster.

Damian was put to task stringing popcorn on a fishing line and fighting off the vultures known as his family as they swooped in to steal a few kernels here and there. Someone had dragged one of the larger tables usually used for galas into the room and platters of food appeared, filling up the surface until Damian could no longer see any wood.

“Hey, baby bird,” Brown greeted as she and Cassandra entered the room. Thomas trailed after the two, a kippah on his head too. Brown started to reach for one of the powdered desserts but you materialized out of seemingly thin air and swatted her hand away.

“Not until Bruce does the blessing, you little thief,” you warned, but there was no heat behind your words. Damian was always confused by the lack of punishment received for behavior here. At Nanda Parbat, misbehaving and denying orders was met with violence. Here, it was met with teasing words from you and a stern lecture if it was a serious discrepancy. You were weak, he thought, for not preparing them for the cruelties of this world like his grandfather had. 

“Alright, last thing for the table,” Todd announced as he entered the room with a large dutch oven cradled between two potholders. You clapped your hands in excitement and moved some dishes aside so he could set it down in the center. 

“This is brisket,” you explained to Damian, “but we have plenty of vegetarian options too. Hummus, noodle kugel, latkes…a lot of latkes. Christ on a bike, Jason, could you have made any more latkes? We also have sufganiyot, rugelach, kugel, sfenj, and some Christmas cookies already…and we’re having matzo ball soup on the eighth night. Vegetarian, of course.”

Todd sidled up next to you, his large frame towering over his adoptive mother. You rested a hand on his arm and squeezed, a silent thanks for assisting Alfred with all of the food. He dipped his chin in response and then hugged you. Damian watched as the older boy practically melted in your embrace, something he had never seen. Todd was always cold and harsh, holding himself in a way that meant he was on alert constantly.

“The sun has set,” Alfred announced. The rest of the family had piled into the room and they crowded around the silver chanukkiah that sat on one of the tables. Richard lit the middle candle as Bruce began to say the three blessings. You murmured the occasional Hebrew word in response to the prayer, but the family remained quiet as Bruce prayed and Dick lit the candle. Once the first candle was lit and Bruce ended the prayer, you clapped your hands together and shooed everyone towards the family.

“Eat, eat. Nosh a little. We’ll decorate the tree after presents.”

Damian was struck with panic for a second. Presents? Was he supposed to get anyone something? No one else appeared nervous. They were all focused on loading up their plates and scattering around the living room.

You didn’t head towards the food. Instead, Damian watched as you pulled a blanket off of a basket tucked next to the chair you usually sat in. The basket was overflowing with wrapped gifts and you picked a few out, depositing them in the lap of the respective person. Damian was surprised when you stopped in front of him and smiled, holding out a gift wrapped in paper that had animals printed all over it.

“Happy Hanukkah, Damian. I like to give everyone gifts for the eight nights. Something small. Don’t worry about getting us anything. It’s more of a thing I like to do.” Your words eased his stress. He cautiously tore at the paper and found a fresh sketchbook, pencils, and watercolors inside. You had already moved on to hand a gift to Alfred.

He ran his fingers along the smooth paper and smiled despite himself. Maybe you weren’t totally useless.

For seven more nights, the family gathered in the living room to play games, watch movies, and eat. Seriously, it was a shit ton of food. You flitted about the room all night, anxious to ensure everyone was enjoying themselves. The gifts you gave were perfect, but Damian would never admit that. In lieu of gelt, other than the chocolate coins that Drake and Richard were battling over currently, you had donated ten thousand dollars to a charity each person supported, including Damian’s favorite animal shelter in the city.

He didn’t understand it. He had been nothing but frigid to you since arriving at the Manor. Yet, you were still suffused with warmth that leaked out of you and showering him with kindness and gifts. So on the eighth night, while everyone else was focused on the epic dreidel battle between Cassandra and Todd, Damian slowly approached where you were seated on the couch, curled up against Father’s side.

“Hey, need something?” you asked. You were ready to spring off the couch and serve him, but Damian merely thrust a neatly wrapped box in your direction. Your lips parted in a soft, surprised gasp and you thanked him as you accepted the gift. Slowly and meticulously, you unwrapped the gift and opened the small box under the paper to find a beautiful handmade portrait of the whole family.

“Oh, Damian,” you whispered. “It’s amazing. This is the greatest gift anyone has ever given me.”

“Happy Hanukkah.”

You handed the box to Bruce and stood. “Is it alright if I hug you?”

He nodded stiffly, but relaxed minutely when your arms wrapped around him. Damian understood why Todd softened around you. How Father smiled and showed affection like it was second nature. Why Richard laughed freely and Thomas felt comfortable in the family and Brown gossiped to you about trivial things. He understood why Cassandra sought you out on the bad days and Drake curled up beside you when he needed to feel comforted and why Pennyworth took your orders without question.

You weren’t useless or helpless. Your strength, light, and warmth was the thing keeping the family together. Damian hugged you just a little tighter. Maybe he could ask you to accompany him to the animal shelter to oversee how the donations were being allocated. And then perhaps they could go to that one vegetarian restaurant Todd had told him about.

You weren’t his mother and he would always love his mother, but you were certainly a figure in his life that he didn’t mind being around.

[conjectureand-gloom]

‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧ welcome! ‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧

important information ⬎

alex

they/he/xe/it

non binary 💛🤍💜🖤

lesbian ❤️🧡🤍🩷💜

youreverydaydemikid -> conjectureand-gloom (15/01/24)

minor (february 8th)

multifandom

fanfiction writer

GMT +10:30

INFP-T

2w1

lyn lapid fan blog @tlit21c

i stand with palestine 🇵🇸

my new main account is @holesofmy-sweater

links ⬎

my ao3

my spotify

my pinterest

my instagram (that i’m barely active on)

hamilton fanfic recommendations

2023 reflection post

fandom list, fanfiction request masterlist, written works, wips, asks, tags and mutuals under the cut

‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧ fandom list ‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧

hamilton (feel free to request for any hamilton ship, i love them all so much, alexander is the absolute DREAM for a multishipper. alexander is my main target for angst! this is my main fandom)

jesus christ superstar (jesus/judas or jesus/judas/mary mainly for jcs, but feel free to ask for any other ships and i’ll consider it!! and no, i am not religious. i have been raised christian, but just ended up with religious trauma)

a good girls guide to murder (pipravi fluff and angst :) but i’ll so gladly write fics about sal and andie, or becca. ravi is my comfort character, and i just torture pip relentlessly)

nevermoor (personally i’m more of a cadence/morrigan girly, but fics for nevermoor will mainly be gen! i love found family, so jupiter & mog fluff or angst is my favourite)

in the heights (canon ships mainly, but feel free to ask for other ships! i’m not in the ITH fandom much, so these are going to be much more inaccurate)

newsies (again, more gen fics, but i do ship dave/jack. also i love angsty crutchie fics. this is one of my smaller fandoms, so these will be super inaccurate)

keeper of the lost cities (preferably marella/linh or tam/keefe! but again, feel free to ask for any ship!!)

hunger games (gen, preferably. but i’m team peeta in case anyone was wondering. fuck gale.)

maze runner (okay i haven’t read or seen TMR in ages but newt/thomas)

divergent (canon ships only. and no, christina/tobias is not canon.)

six (gen all the way. found family. also i love katherine howard angst over any other queen)

the song of achilles (achilles/patroclus? literally what other ship is there????? this is my favourite book)

wednesday (wednesday/enid. i feel like this requires no explanation. also. angst fics. i almost exclusively write angsty wednesday fics, rather than enid. i love the whole of the addams family, and i love familial hurt/comfort)

marauders (i’m not in the marauders fandom much at all, like i really only know the actual hp canon marauders. so.)

‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧ fanfic request rules ‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧

i’ll write for any fandom listed above, i love them all! however i am much more active in hamilton, agggtm, jcs, nevermoor and kotlc, so those fics will be much better than the other fandoms’ would be

i’ll write any genre other than smut, and angst/whump is my absolute favourite. any AUs you could think of, literally anything, i’m not picky!

i won’t write romanticised abuse, non/con, or anything like that. that’s not to say that my fics can’t have dark aspects, but i won’t romanticise any of that.

on that, i’m not going to write any non/con, romanticised or not

also, i won’t write omegaverse, nor will i write y/n or self insert fics. nothing wrong with those genres, i just don’t write them!

‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧ written works ‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧

It’s Only A Matter Of Time - A Hamilton Watches Hamilton Fic

i wish i could say that was the last time

call me son one more time

when they surround our troops

then a hurricane came

take a break

and his right hand man…

she was holding me

the great war

we got traffic on the west side

steal into my affections

the fact that you’re alive is a miracle

fools who run their mouths off wind up dead

my father wasn’t around

philip, you would like it uptown

i may not live to see our glory…

an outrageous demand

stay alive

my dear, angelica

to convince you that i love you

but this situation’s helpless

like mother, like daughter (agggtm)

“but now this room is spinning…”

“i’ll call out your name but you won’t call back”

“like crying out in empty rooms, with no one there except the moon”

me in your sweater, you said it looked better on me than it did you (gifted to @holes-in-my-false-confidence)

baby it’s cold outside

the entire exposé (inspired entirely off of @jittyjames’ fanfiction series ‘the price of his war’)

my world is burning (yet another fic based off of jami’s series ‘the price of his war’)

i’m sorry if any of these links are incorrect, i spent over an hour on just this section

‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧ wips ‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧

achilles, come down (last two works in series still need to be written)

je m’appelle… lafayette? (one chapter to go)

lams (taylor’s version) (a few chapters to go, unsure if it will be finished)

you’re the one who disappears (agggtm, unsure if it will be finished, or when)

judas’ death (jcs angst fanfiction)

untitled (hamil-gang liminal spaces au longfic thing idk)

febuwhump drabbles (possibly)

be my valentine challenge

so big/so small (so big/so small from deh but hamilton and his ma)

bloom like rose thorns (a longfic that may or may not ever be finished)

rewrite of ‘i wish i could say that was the last time’ and ‘call me son one more time’

baby don’t cut (lams angst based off of a song with the same name)

‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧ collaborations ‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧

fem!hamilton au with @jittyjames and @firebalda

if anybody is interested in collabing at all, please hit me up!! i love writing with other people!!!!

‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧ asks ‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧

please send me any asks at all!!! and also please put fic requests in my ask box, i did say that i would have your request out in 6 months, but i have had one sitting in there for over a year (sorry jami.) but um. i promise im trying to get better at that

also, feel free to ask for fic recommendations!!!! i’ve linked a post earlier in this post with a huge list, but it’s not fully updated with some more recent fics :)

‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧ tags ‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧

asks- all the asks ive answered, these are also tagged with the url of the blog, or with anon dearest if it was an anon ask

akeyla ml- posts about/with my incredible incredible partner @holes-in-my-false-confidence who i love so much ❤❤❤❤❤❤

tag games- self explanatory, tag games :)

sleep is overrated- me trying to fix my sleep schedule in 2024

personal- personal vent posts. please block this tag, i have had someone unfollow me before because of these posts :)

₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧ mooties ‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧

@jittyjames

@like-the-stars-i-shine (irl friend for 5 years now)

@holes-in-my-false-confidence (my partner, irl <33333)

@felizusnavidad

@weeping-in-the-willows

@swiftieannah

@the1laff

@anixknowsnothin

@purpleblobfrompluto

@starduckys

@now-thats-his-bride

@kwilooo

@evilteapot (irl friend)

@my-dear-gal

@idontwanttobeabuzzkill

@mynightsoutofsight

@cc-horan28

i have more mutuals, but this is everybody who i interact with more often and i actually consider to be my friend. if anybody wants to ever message me or actually become friends with me, please do!!!! i love talking to you guys, please message me, i promise im not scary <333

[mikisspeak]

Different love

Luffy x Male! Reader (Fits for trans males too)

⛔️MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, YOU’LL BE BLOCKED⛔️

Cw: Mention of christian family(Reader), homo in denial, just a homo confession.

_•*•_

This wasn’t possible.

Neither correct.

How did this even happened?

A lot of questions ran over your head the last days.

You were a straw hat, you joined after Luffy, your handsome captain, saved your village from a strong crew of pirates, it was normal to be so devoted to him..Right? But something felt off; at start you thought you were just too thankful for Luffy saving the ones you loved and taking you like his new nakama, but with the time you realized it wasn’t that easy. Every time he smiled at you when you arrived the kitchen to eat with the crew, when he stretched his rubber arms to you and hug you tightly after being lost on the new island you guys arrived to, every little smile he gave you..Everything made your heart pound strongly on your chest; your cheeks heat up and your pressure raise.

But no.

It couldn’t be.

You liked women, it was always like that, or at least that was what your parents told you when you were little, men with women-women with men.

This was a sin, but you couldn’t help but think that if you had to choose between heaven and kissing him, you could burn in hell with happiness on your face.

There was a problem tho. He never liked no one. The most beautiful woman in the Grand Line, Boa Hancock, was head over heels for him and he just dared to leave her hanging as he did with every beautiful woman on the seas. What got you sure it would be different for you? Luffy was always so unaware of sexual and romantic attraction, he was probably aro-ace, so confessing to him was a probably loosing game.

But you couldn’t with the feeling anymore, that heavy weight on your chest every time he said you were friends..

“Just friends.” You thought when he mentioned it the first time.

You didn’t wanted to be friends with him, you wanted to hold him every night near of you, to be able to tell him how much you loved him whenever you wanted without being asked by the others. You had to do it.

“I like you, Luffy.”

You pronounced, you finally had the courage to tell him your feelings after seeing the opportunity when, after dinner, he happened to be alone on the upper deck.

Luffy looked confused at you, his head tilted slightly and his eyebrow went up while the other furrowed.

“Ya’ like me?” He asked rhetorically, his confusion turned into his usual and pretty smile.

“I like you too ___! You’re my best friend after all.”

Those words sank hard on your heart, did he understood it? Maybe he ignored it? You sighed and proceeded to explain better.

“No but..- Not as a friend! More like..I, uh.”

You breathed again inhaling and exhaling to calm down before gaining enough courage.

“Luffy. I love you. Not as a friend, neither a nakama. I love you like a couple would.”

His face froze, he stood in shock in front of you, turning everything really awkward. You looked down, his eyes were the thing you wanted to avoid right now. Then, while your sight was still down to the wood floor, you heard a chuckle.

Before you could get up your sight, a wild Luffy was already getting over you, wrapping you in his rubber arms and swinging you around with strength and a smile that could burn the sun.

“I love you too!” He said with a happy and loud tone, it was a miracle no one was hearing the conversation at this point.

Your face turned from confusion to happiness and a little giggle left your lips as you captured his cheeks on your hands and kissed him, the thing you wanted to do since the very first day was finally a chance. You wouldn’t change this moment for anything. At all.

“So? Then we’re a couple?!” He asked happily, a small coral-pink blush adorned his pretty face. He let you go and waited for an answer.

“Of course Luffy.”

Suddenly—and it shouldn’t have been a surprise— claps and cheers were heard from behind the mast of the deck, from there Zoro, Nami and Usopp came out. Cheering happily from what they already knew from a long time, but they could finally be able to presence.

Your face tinted red as you stared shyly at your crew mates, Luffy, so uninterested as always just received the cheers with a big smile.

But, on the inside, you were happy, did happiness actually existed for pirates? Could you really be happy with him? This was like a dream come true you never wanted to end. Now you knew it wasn’t a sin neither something bad, it was love, a pure love…

A different love.

A/N: Short but i loved it! Hope ya’ like it too. Remember I’m takin’ requests.

[billyharringson]

Not sure if you ship Jason (in case you don't, Sorry 🥹)

I'd love a sfw (fluffy?) Jason/Eddie with the prompt child friends that grow apart

I've been meaning to write more Munver for ages. However, I somehow missed the fluffy part of the ask and whilst there's some fluff near the end I think this is mostly angsty? It's really hard not to write Munver with angst though.

TW: religious trauma, homophobic slurs

Jason was drunk. Not overly but definitely enough that the careful facade he’d created as the top jock, good Christian boy was wearing thin. It usually didn’t matter, when he was at parties with his ‘friends’ drink normally just made him louder.  

However, this wasn’t a party with just his friends. It was an open-door high school party where anyone could walk in. Which is exactly what had happened.  

“Ugh, they’re really just letting anyone in here, aren’t they?” He said, his lips curling into a sneer. He expected Eddie to say something back, something over the top and ridiculous, like he always did. Somehow the simple, unimpressed eyebrow raise was much more devastating. 

Eddie turned on his heel and walked out of the party, leaving Jason standing there feeling like perhaps the biggest tool in the world. 

“What? You got nothing to say freak? That’s really all it took?” he shouted, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on him. He swallowed painfully as Eddie tossed him one last, curiously blank, look over his shoulder. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to spar, supposed to toss insults at each other. Eddie was supposed to have that little half-smile that he always did when they interacted. He wasn’t supposed to be acting like this. 

Because this was scarily close to how he’d acted all those years ago. Back in middle school, when Jason had first turned on him. He could still remember Eddie’s innocent, child-like face when Jason had told him they weren’t friends anymore. He saw it in his dreams enough that it was seared into his memory. 

Eddie had looked hurt initially, which was fair. They had been best friends for years, and Jason’s betrayal had surely come out of left field. Eddie had never been one to mask his emotions, so Jason had seen, clear as day, when his pretty brown eyes had filled with tears. But then he’d shaken his head, his shorter, soft curls bouncing as he did so and when he’d opened his eyes again, they had been blank. 

And then he’d nodded, told Jason that if that was what he wanted it was fine. He’d walked away without looking back. 

Well, Jason wasn’t going to let him do it again. Ignoring the ever-present voice in the back of his head telling him that this was all his fault, he stormed out of the house and over to Eddie’s familiar van. Wrenching the back door open, he was hit with the sickly-sweet smell of weed, his nose wrinkling before he could stop himself. 

Eddie stared at him, taking another drag of his joint before resting his wrist on his bent knee again. 

“You’re really just gonna walk away?” Jason asked, desperation entering his voice as he climbed into the van and sat down opposite his childhood friend. 

“That’s what you wanted, right?” Eddie asked, blowing smoke in his direction. “Look Jace, I may have to put up with your bullshit at school, but this is my Saturday night. I'm not gonna stay around to get shit on if I don’t have to.” 

“I...” Jason clumped back against the wall of the van, staring down at the half empty beer bottle in his hand. “Sorry.” 

Eddie didn’t say anything for a long while, just took another drag, stubbing the joint out in an ashtray on the floor. “Whatever man, just get out of my van.” 

“No.” Jason replied instantly. “I want... I want to talk to you.” 

Eddie snorted and looked away, head thudding gently against the wall. “Why now? It’s been like 3 years dude.” 

“Because I...” 

“Look, if you’re about to give me some bullshit apology then save it. I don’t wanna hear it, especially from some drunk asshole.” Eddie waved towards the still open doors of the van, rolling onto his knees and reaching for Jason like he was going to physically push him out. 

“Wh-why didn’t you ever fight me?” Jason asked, pressing himself harder against the van wall. “When I told you we couldn’t be friends anymore. Why didn’t you ever try to keep me?” 

Eddie flopped back onto his ass, staring at Jason in bewilderment. “Why didn’t I keep you?” He repeated, his voice rising in incredulity near the end of the question. “Jason, do you not remember how you ended things? You didn’t say we couldn’t be friends anymore, you said...don’t you remember what you called me? What you accused me of?” 

Jason felt a chill go down his spine as the memory resurfaced. He must have blocked that bit out, remade their last friendly interaction into something softer to protect his own feelings from how awful he’d been. “I... I didn’t mean it.” He whispered. 

“Then why the fuck did you say it?” Eddie asked, which was a fair question but not one that Jason wanted to answer. “Why did you call me a fag? Why did you act like it was the worst thing in the world to like men? Why did you call me a fucking devil?” 

“Becau... I... they made me.” Jason stuttered, tears gathering behind his eyes. 

Eddie blinked at him. “What are you talking about?”  

“My parents found my diary. They saw... they saw what I wrote about you. They told me I had to stop being friends with you... because you were causing me to stumble... because if I wasn’t around you then I'd stop... being a fag.” 

Eddie knew about his parents, about the things they did to ‘discipline’ him. Jason could only assume that that was why, instead of kicking him out and refusing to ever speak to him again, Eddie pulled the van doors closed. “Jace, are you gay?” Eddie asked gently. 

Jason shook his head vigorously before he could stop himself. “N-no... I'm good, I'm a good person.” He said desperately, like if he spoke the words out loud it would make them true. 

“I’m gay Jace, do you think I'm a bad person because of that?” 

“No.” Jason couldn’t stop the tears flowing down his cheeks now. “And I don’t think you’re a bad person... even if everything I've been taught tells me otherwise.” 

“You’re also not a bad person Jason.” Eddie smiled at him. “You’re an asshole, but you’re not a bad person.” 

Jason pulled his knees up, pressing his forehead against them as he sobbed openly, his beer bottle still clutched in his hand. “Then why can’t I stop?” 

“Stop what?” Eddie had edged closer at some point, and was now using his fingertips to tilt Jason’s chin up.  

“Stop being in love with you.” Jason breathed, his words stuttering out of him as he waited for Eddie to react with disgust. 

Eddie pried the beer from him, placing it on the floor before cupping Jason’s face with both hands. “I think it’s because that doesn’t make you a bad person either.” He leant forward slowly, clearly giving Jason time to pull away if he needed to, but he couldn't.  

Instead Jason closed his eyes, accepting Eddie’s kiss with a sigh of relief. 

“I love you too, Jace. Even after all these years.” 

[cybrscreem]

PlotTober 3 - Scars

Before I get into this post, I would like to explain some lore to y'all! Beze'el and Bemphel are the oc's of me and my fiancé (@tortoiseshelf) and are demons from the 3rd(gluttony) circle of hell. Neither of us are Christian, but I enjoy giving my characters trauma so Beelzebub is depicted as an abusive jackass. As an omnithiestic person, I will say outright that Beelzebub is NOT an evil or abusive person/demon/thing and this is purely for storyline purposes.

With that, some explanation on these characters.

TWS for story AND character Info: occult shit, Beelzebub is portrayed as a super dick guy, parental/domestic abuse/violence, anxiety attacks, verbal/emotional abuse, physical abuse, oldest child syndrome lmfao, demons/demonology, son of Beelzebub x 3rd circle demon

Triggers start after this point, read at your own discretion!

Beze'el: Beze'el is the eldest son of Beelzebub. He has seven siblings; Lucielle, Macsen, Evangeline, Diego, Aurora, Judas, and Lilliana. Beze'el always took his siblings punishment, doing everything he could to protect them. He was raised being told his worth and purpose in life came from caring for his siblings and being an obedient son, and that was his only value in existence. Beze'el is missing part of a horn from when he was with his father at a meeting with the other crown demons (Lucifer, Satan, Belphegor, Mammon, Leviathan, and Asmodeus). During this, Beze'el spoke out of turn and was punished by having part of his horn snapped off. He was once aggressive towards beelzebub in defense of his youngest sister - and was punished by having his wings torn from his flesh - leaving him with large jagged scars where they had been attached.

Now, lets start this story!

Bemphel was infatuated with Beze’el, the demon who’d been shunned by the rest of circle 3 for abandoning his post as heir to the throne. He knew the truth, a story that was hidden from demons and angels alike. The truth that Beze’el leaving wasn’t an act of rebellion, it was his way of protecting his siblings. Bemphel knew very well that Beze’el had no self worth, the demon still viewed his only worth through the thriving of his siblings. Bemphel struggled with trying to get Beze’el to see his worth, but he wanted more than anything to be there when he was needed.

Beze’el had never taken his top off around Bemphel. As far as Bemphel knew, the only demon aside from Beelzebub to have seen Beze’el’s back after his wings, was Romeo - Beze’els old guard who remained by his side through the move to earth. This didn’t bother Bemphel, as he understood it was an awful memory for Beze’el that often left him sobbing in his arms even after showers or getting dressed.

It had been this way for years of their relationship, and Bemphel held no opposition as long as Beze’el was comfortable and happy. The farmer came back to their shared apartment one day after work, unaware that Beze’el was still in their room. He stepped into the bedroom, only to find himself frozen before the sight of Beze’el’s bare back - covered in jagged scars from what looked like bullwhips.. And the wings he’d never been able to see. He felt his breathing grow heavy with rage, the idea that the prince's father would do such a thing to his own son.

Beze’el promptly turned, eyes wide and body already trembling as if he was in the middle of a blizzard. The prince swiftly pulled his shirt on, taking a few steps back. “Bemphel- I’m so sorry you had to see that-” He tried to catch his breath, already feeling his panic move to new heights as he saw his lover's enraged expression. He began to hyperventilate despite his efforts to remain calm. “Please, please don’t be upset! I w-will keep it covered more strictly from now on, please..”

Bemphel was dumbfounded by Beze’els reaction, and he remembered vividly that Romeo had told him Beze’el spoke more formally when he was anxious, a habit he’d picked up under Beelzebubs command. Bemphel rushed forward and pulled his partner into a tight hug. “Beze’el, you are fucking divine. You never have to hide anything from me. I don’t care how disgusting you think you are, you’re my everything and I love every part of you. Every. Part.” Beze’el found himself tearing up, before beginning to sob loudly against Bemphels shoulder. “Thank you.”

[solradguy]

Is Sin like, a Christian? You’ve talked about how Ky is a certain kind of Christian recently and I know Sin has a cross, but I wasn’t sure if that was a bit or a joke? Is he praying?

Mostly I’m just confused because I see like two topics of conversation around Sin and it’s his father issues (for either of them) and him being 5. Sometimes it’s about him giving Ram a sandwich. Even if it’s not a big part of his character (he’s not Ky, after all!) it seems like it gets mentioned more as a joke so I’m not sure if it’s like a serious…character trait, I guess?

I kind of get the impression that Sin is religious but not to the same degree as Ky is. We've seen multiple instances of Ky praying or otherwise being in a Christian church (GG2Overture Material Collection and an opening scene in Lightning the Argent chapter 1, part 2 are two examples) while Sin's expression of religion has been a lot more subtle. He's wearing a crucifix in all of his designs through Overture, Vastedge, Xrd and his new Strive outfit, to begin with:

Baby Sin is also wearing what seems to be the same one:

Dizzy almost definitely was not raised with any sort of religion comparable to Christianity; Ky would had to have introduced her to it and then raised Sin into it. Sin wearing the crucifix even through Overture when he was the most mad at Ky says a lot, I think, about Sin's feelings towards his religion. If he didn't have any sort of faith in it and it was solely Ky's thing, why continue wearing it?

He brings up God to Ram in Xrd Sign when trying to explain what emotions and opinions are to her:

Sin: Well, c'mon, what does "right" even mean anyway? Let's say Ky and the old man think something tastes bad, but I like it. Does that make me wrong? In a way everybody's right, see? They're right to say it tastes bad, and I'm right to say it tastes good.

Ramlethal: I don't understand your example.

Sin: Arg... How do I say this... Oh, got it! Do you believe in God?

Ramlethal: God? I acknowledge that the concept exists, and people find value in it, but without further evidence, I can't authoritatively state whether or not--

Sin: No, I'm asking you how YOU feel about it! Remember when you ate that hamburger? You had an opinion on it, YOUR opinion. Like that...

Ramlethal: I...I don't know...

Sin: You're impossible! All right, let's try something else. Look out that window.

Ramlethal: ?

Sin: [looking at the starry sky] He he. This is the real reason I'm here. Doesn't that look pretty?

Ramlethal: ...I don't know.

Sin: I think you just don't have the words to describe how you feel. See, I think that's suuuuuuuuuuuuuper pretty.

Ramlethal: Um...?

Sin: To me, that's enough. The way I feel, the way this looks... I don't want somebody trying to explain that to me with big words or fancy ideas. I just like the explanation "This sky looks beautiful because God made it that way." So to me, that would be a good reason for God to exist. Do you think that's the right answer?

Ramlethal: That's just what you WANT. It doesn't make anything real.

Sin: Maybe, but I don't think everything needs to be black and white. You don't need to shove yourself into a corner and tell yourself you have to be something.

That last bit about Sin crediting the creation of the sky to God might be the most concrete bit of evidence we have to gauge where on the scale his faith is. He's a smart kid and quick at coming up with efficient solutions to unusual problems (like telling the highly intelligent Dr. Paradigm, who is an aquatic Gear, to breathe using magic instead of maintaining a ball of water around himself), but he still attributes something as easily explainable by science as the composition of the sky to God. There's also the fact that Sol has consistently had negative opinions towards religion/God when it's brought up too. He almost definitely would have had some kind of conversation about it with Sin at one point and Sin still maintained his faith despite that.

For now I'd say it would be fair to assume that Sin is at least moderately Christian and that he's serious about it, it's not part of a joke or other setup. Maybe future story stuff will expand on this aspect of his character more one day though.

Unfortunately, there's a lot of lore discussion where Sin is involved that boils down to it all being a joke when very little of it actually is. He's lighthearted and not great at thinking deeply about complex issues unless he has to, but he's by no means a gag character. Take any post/meme that treats him as pure comic relief with a grain of salt.