#i just love these maniacs. yes they are a bit crazy

[babyleostuff]

when you call them your husband | ot13

❥ seungcheol 

goes through five stages of a mental breakdown, because what did you just call him??? if you ever called him your husband in front of people, cheol would turn into a stuttering mess with cheeks as red as a tomato. if you did it when you were by yourselves he’d start whining like a bitch, getting shy as hell, because why are you messing with his heart like that? on rare days, though, he’d embrace the husband figure and start calling you “wife” and make you shy

❥ jeonghan 

so smug - no one would be able to wipe that studpid ass smirk off of his face. it does mess with him a bit, though, because come on - calling him your husband??? but he’d try his best to act unaffected, because it’s jeonghan, and he needs to be cool :))) (i’m going to repeat this so many times throughout this headcanon, but all of them would start to freak out a bit thinking about a day when this won’t be a joke anymore, hannie included)

❥ joshua 

is he really surprised when you call him your husband? not really. he knows he’s a husband material, and you often make jokes about him being your husband anyways. that doesn’t mean he isn’t freaking about it on the inside, though, because no matter how many times you call him that as a silly little joke, it still makes him so incredibly happy that one day, he’ll really be your husband, and you won’t be calling him that as a joke anymore

❥ jun 

one of the “turns into a shy, blushy, and a stuttering mess” squad. he’d malfunction at first, point at himself, and melt into a puddle of fluff, and love. one - how dare you call him your literal husband as a joke??? second - give him all the kisses, and hugs, because his first instincts is to run away, and break out in tears from all the love. he doesn’t really know what to do with himself after you say that word, but you can be sure it’ll be in his head for the rest of the day 

❥ hoshi 

soonyoung would be confused for a second, because “wait, are you talking about me?” and when he’d finally understand that, yes - you were talking about him (because who else would you be talking about), he’d get so smiley and giggly and shy, and just turn into the cutest bean. he’d immediately cling to you, wrapping his arms around you and trapping you in a warm hug, giggling like a maniac

❥ wonwoo 

cue shy wonwoo with his lil cat smile. he can’t help the butterflies fluttering in his tummy, and as much as he’d want to tease you for calling him your husband, he’d be too shy to actually do it. you calling him that would make him so happy for some reason, even though he knows that you mainly do it as a prank or a joke to mess with him. don’t do it in front of people, though, or he’ll run away

❥ woozi 

“anything for you, baby.” woozi always indulges in all of your silly antics and jokes, and this time it’d be no different. he’d try to act as unaffected as he could, but his acting skills are not always the best, so you’d still be able to catch a glimpse of a small smile and blushy cheeks. he isn't the type to think about marriage, kids, and your domestic future together, he prefers to focus on what you have now, but hearing that word coming from you, would make his heart flutter a bit faster

❥ dk 

“yes, i am.” smiles cutely at you, and gives you a bone crushing hug, while freaking the fuck out on the inside. he won’t comment on it too much in the moment, but the way he’d be extra clingy throughout the day, giving you ten times more kisses, and hugs, and pouts, and any physical affection. the thought of becoming your husband some day is so??? because it will happen someday, and that’s kind of crazy

❥ mingyu 

cue mingoo giggles, because that man would not be able to behave himself after hearing the word husband from you. will whine, smile, laugh, hug you, pick you up and spin you around like a lovesick teenager, and when he finally calms down, he’d give you the biggest smooch. even though you had marriage talks plenty of times before - you both knew you’d get married some time in the feature, hearing it from you - saying it so casually, messed with his heart so much 

❥ minghao 

as someone who has mentioned a couple of times before that he wants to get married, hearing the word “husband” coming from you would make him so so happy and giddy, to the point where he’d just stand there with a lovesick smile on his face, and the urge to hug and kiss the life out of you (he wouldn’t though, he has to keep his composure) (but don’t worry, he’d kiss your forehead and tell you how much he loves you) (all with an adorable blush covering his cheeks)

❥ seungkwan 

turns into a shy and blushy mess. seungkwan’s first instinct is to hide his face in his hands or your neck, so you wouldn’t see the effect that the word had on him (even though you could clearly see how it affected him). then he’d probably proceed to yell at you (lovingly) for making such mean jokes (he wants to be your husband now, boyfriend is not enough)

❥ vernon 

at first he would think that he had misheard you, so you’d have to repeat the word two or three more times, because why would you ever call him your husband? and when you’d clarify that, yes - you did say the word “husband”, and yes - it was directed to him, vernon would just stare at you with big eyes but no thoughts. you’d laugh at him immediately, because the lack of his reaction was even funnier than if he’d react. then he’d say “thank you” and proceed with the rest of his day with the word “husband” floating around his head

❥ chan 

leechan.exe has stopped working. looks at you with the biggest puppy eyes, pointing at himself, as if he was asking if you were really talking about him. it’s so crazy to him that you’d call him that even as a joke, because hearing the word “husband” coming from you is??? hello??? and the fact that someday he’ll really be your husband??? you can expect chan to be a bit more clingy than he usually is (a bit more pouty too, because what do you mean you called him that as a joke?)

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @soul-is-a-strange-kid @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen reactions #svt reactions #seventeen kpop #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen carat #seventeen reaction #seventeen requests #seungcheol #jeonghan #joshua #woozi #wen junhui #wonwoo #vernon #svt #seungkwan #dino #svt woozi #mingyu #minghao #hoshi #chwe vernon

[starb3rrys]

BSD men- Top, Bottom, or Switch?

Hi hi! Star here, just letting y’all know these are my personal thoughts and opinions, if you have a different opinion or headcannon you are welcome to comment on it! Id love to hear your thoughts!~ :3

Ft. Dazai, Atsushi, Fukuzawa, Ranpo, Poe, Mushitaro, Fyodor, Nikolai

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

Dazai

Top

Let’s start with our lovely suicidal maniac, even though this man is openly flirty with people, he is very foreign to love and affection since his passes at people are always met with rejection. So you can imagine his dumbfounded face when you confessed to him. He couldn’t believe someone as sweet as you actually liked him. You were something valuable and precious in his eyes, the most perfect person in the world, his and his only. He can be very protective and possessive of you both in public, and private~

Sex with Dazai can go two ways, he can be very sweet and gentle or can also be very mean and rough, it really depends on the day and situation. If he had a good day, he will be the sweetest man alive. Kiss you all over and go slowly as to take his time with such a delicate angel, he will whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he praises you for taking him in so well. But, that sweet man is nowhere to be seen when he’s had a stressful day, he loves you, he really does but all he wants to do right now is just fuck you senseless. He will manhandle you like there is no tomorrow, he gives you no time to react before he slams his cock into your soft, warm, and wet cunt. The way he lets out deep grunts into your ear as he calls you such sinful words, he comments on how much of a good fuck toy you make. He loves you so much he just can’t get enough~

“My beautiful belladonna, you’re all mine all min-Ah!~ Oh fuck, yes just keep clenching around me like the sweet little cockhungry slut you are, Mmh!- show me how much you like it when I use you, you know you love it when I grip my hands around your waist like this don’t you? Haha!~ truly perfect.”

Atsushi

Switch, preferred bottom

Now our sweet tiger boy, Atsushi is very kind and gentle with everyone, especially you. He loves the dates you guys go on, the long talks you guys have and most of all, how much you care about him. He loves that your relationship is nicely balanced, he gives to you, and you give back, both in normal circumstances and in more “private” matters.

The first time you guys have sex, he was on top but he was very nervous of messing up, you reassured him that he would do just fine and you guided him through it all. After the first time, he felt more confident and continued topping for a bit, he enjoyed pleasing you and he loved the feeling of being in control, but he did want to try something new, he had fantasies of you riding him, and he finally grew the courage to ask you. The first time you were on top, he melted, he loved it so much, how you moved, the noises you dragged out of him, the sweet praises you gave him, he loved it all. After that he admitted he loved you dominating him, so you being on top was a very common occurrence!~

“Ah!~ Honey you look so beautiful on top of me, Gosh your body is so perfect, your curves drive me crazy-Oh Fuck~ I’m so happy you’re mine, I’m so lucky-Ah! God I love you, I love you so much.”

Fukuzawa

Top

The lone wolf himself, who would’ve thought he would be able to love? Not just that, he has utterly fallen hard. And i mean. Hard. After all the years he’s been alone, he has finally found someone to love and open up to. He loves everything about you, he loves your eyes, your personality, your features and most of all, he loves the way you make him feel, both emotionally and physically.

He loves to worship your body, he’s thankful for every second he’s with you, he cherishes those moments with all his heart. So don’t be surprised when you find yourself under him, hands caressing your body as moans mixed with sweet praises fill the room. He makes sure to go slow and take his time, each thrust is filled with love and care. Who would’ve guessed that the stone cold lone wolf would be so gentle?. But, sometimes when he’s stressed from work he won’t be so gentle, of course he’ll still be sweet, but his mind is just clouded with the feeling of being inside of you, knowing you’re his, and only his.

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect, I love how you look when you’re under me-Ah!~ I promise you, I’ll keep you safe from any harm for as long as I live, now please, let me worship you, and show you how much I love you.”

Ranpo

Switch, preferred bottom

Now for our little detective, Ranpo is not big on romance, to be honest he’s never really “like liked” someone, he loves his mysteries and snacks, they come first. But something about the moment when he first saw you changed him, for some reason he wanted to focus more on you than his mysteries. He offered you snacks which he never used to do with others. He starts to hang around you more and is genuinely interested in what you have to say. Fast forward to when you confess to him, he’s so happy, this new found feeling is something he loves. He loves how kind you are, but most of all, how sweet you are~

Ranpo is very much capable of topping you, he won’t lie he does love it, enjoys the moans full of praises you let out, telling him how good he feels and how much you love him it makes him go wild. He will do anything to drag those praises out of you. But Ranpo can be very lazy sometimes, so lazy sex and you being on top is pretty common. He loves that you are the one who serves him and all he has to do is just sit there and watch the show. He does moan but prefers to grunt as to not boost your ego, he knows you love it when you drag little moans from the worlds greatest detective!~

Mm~ gosh you feel so good love, keep riding me just like that, Mm-Ah! What? No of course I didn’t moan.. you’re gonna have to try harder than that to hear m- AH! Mm- haha~ now this is getting interesting~.”

Poe

Bottom

Oh my beloved submissive shy writer. Poe is very shy, quiet and passionate about his work, he’s the same way with you. Even if you’ve been together for quite a while, he’ll still be very shy around you, easily getting flustered at any little touch or compliment you give him. He’s such a sucker for you too, you’re his world, his poem, his song, his everything and he will do everything and anything to please you.

And in the bedroom it’s no different, he will do anything you ask, he will utterly be on his hands and knees for you. The praises you give him as you ride him send him over the edge, god does he love it when you are in control, the way you use him, the way you tease him, the way you make him feel as if he’s the only one who could ever make you happy, he just can’t help himself, all he can do is moan and beg for more, with these desires he tends to subconsciously grind into you, causing you to moan in return, poor boy, he doesn’t do it on purpose, he just wants so much more of you, he can never get enough. Sex with Poe is always full of passion and emotion, not just any casual sex, for him it’s something that can only be shared between you and him, his muse, his light, his life, his love.

“Please keep going don’t sto-AGH! FUCK! I’m the only one that can make you feel this good right? Oh god~ please tell me, am I doing good for you? my love, my muse, my beloved star! Ah!~.”

Mushitaro

Bottom

My beloved evidence destroyer, around others he acts sure of himself, confident even and his ability to commit a perfect crime just adds to that big ego delusion he’s got going on. Out in public he will keep the “I’m better than everyone” smartass act up, but behind closed doors it’s a completely different story. The man who was once proudly saying how he could best you in anything is now on the bed flustered out of his mind with his suit torn open and hickeys covering his neck.

He’s definitely all talk, you tease him about how he was bragging about being able to dominate you anytime he wanted to, yet he’s the one on the bed following orders. His face would be flushed, he avoids eye contact as much as possible, but when you grab his face he can’t help but just melt at your touch. When you instruct him to start touching himself, he does it with no hesitation, you can see it in his eyes, the desperation and the need to touch himself for you. He begs for you to help him, and when you do, it’s all over, he’s a moaning mess.

“Please darling, I need you to touch me I need to feel your hands around my cock, please I’ll do anything you ask me to- AH! Yes yes! Thank you, thank you please don’t stop, keep going I want to finish for you and only you.”

Fyodor

Top

This psychotic, degrading ass rat king, he may seem as if he’s very composed and doesn’t think about sex that much, but boy oh boy he cannot control himself around you. Just something about you, it makes him feel things he never thought he would. Lust and desire fill his mind, he just can’t have enough of you, how cute you are, how beautiful you look even as you cry and beg for mercy from him, god does he love it all.

He is a very big top, he loves the control and power he has over you, he gets off on the thought of him ruining you. You look so innocent and flustered under him, he just can’t wait to ruin you. He thinks you’re beautiful, the light of his life, despite that, his words are harsh yet smooth, he leans close to your ear and teases you about how desperate and cockhungry you look.

“Haha~ just look at you! So innocent looking as if you don’t dream and fantasize of me breaking you-Mm! My my, I presume from you getting tighter I was right, no worries I’ll make sure to ruin you in every way imaginable~.”

Nikolai

Dominant Bottom

Dear me, where do i start with this jester. With Nikolai it’s never boring and he makes sure of it! He is so lively around you, he loves how you can handle his random bursts of energy, how you never get tired of him no matter how much he annoys you. He loves the cute reactions you have when he teases or flirts with you. He cherishes the soft moments with you but he also loves the rough ones!~

He can absolutely dominate you any time he pleases, but he loves to have you on top of him. The idea of you being on top of him, riding him to your hearts content and desperately using him to get your self off, gets him off. Even though he allows you to be the dominant one, half of the time he’s the one in control. He tells you when to move and how, he teases you about how cute you look when you pout when he instructs you to stop moving, and loves the moans you let out as he starts thrusting upwards into you. Praise with a ton of teasing is his go to, seriously this man is something else.

“Oh fuck, just look at you! So desperate to get yourself off, God I love it when you get like this, just keep letting out those cute moans for m-Ah!~ haha~ go a bit slower, we don’t want the fun to end just yet now do we?~.”

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

First smut writing I’ve ever done, I hope y’all like this one!~

If you’d like a part 2 with different characters just let me know! Love you all! <3

#bsd x reader #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #bsd atsushi #atsushi x reader #bsd fukuzawa #fukuzawa x reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo x reader #bsd poe #poe x reader #bsd mushitaro #mushitaro x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #bsd nikolai gogol #nikolai x reader #anime

[writingforatwistedworld]

Self-aware isekai'd househusbands, what a great idea that was. The Vil piece was so fun that I wasn't more!

Can you write Riddle as an isekai'd househusband? Thank you!

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, blood, murder, death, violence, stalking, unhealthy relationship, obsession

Your totally normal isekaid househusband

Imagine, you are the male equivalent of a magical girl in villain version who got isekaid into the normal world

One would think that world domination or something to that would follow, right?

Well no.... said magical girl is right now starting holes into a cookbook

And he kinda likes it- no, he loves to study the culinary arts

Not just for anyone of course

Riddle has become a little helping hand in your home after you found him one day drenched to the bone outside of your little safe haven

But at this point the two of you might be married with you being the breadwinner

In the morning he wakes you up, makes you breakfast, hands you your lunch when you are heading out, cleans the house, spends his time doing... things, greets you when you return gives you food and does more things that would stereotypically be considered as stay-at-home-partner activities

How calm... how sweet... how-Riddle, what are you doing?

Riddle wakes up one hour before you usually do. So what does he do in that hour?

So, half an hour before you wake up he prepares breakfast but the thirty minutes before...

Well he is just standing there, staring at your sleeping figure

Ok. Creepy but at least the time from breakfast till him being done with chores is normal

So uh... remember those “things” I mentioned earlier? Well...

There are those noisy neighbors everyone has, right?

So uh... please don't mention them annoying you in any way. Please don't. Just don't. Oh why? Hehe... don't think too much about what I just said, yes?

When you return Riddle emerges from the kitchen, asking you if everything is alright

Following to that he scolds you for staying out too late

That crazy maniac is running freely out there! All those poor souls lost to them

Your neighborhood might have a... uh... “spontaneous death through decapitation” problem

The crime scenes are clean or rather they are until you enter the room in which “that” happened and you find a surprisingly clean you-know-what sitting there in a chair with their you-know-what laying in their lap, a white rose tucked somewhere in that meat pile as well

Of course Riddle knows that his actions aren't good in any way but when you good him that the old creepy neighbor next door had been scaring you for so long he saw red and...

Let's just say that magic makes it incredibly easy to leave a crime scene without any trace

Ah yes, roses! Let's talk about something easier on the stomach!

Riddle plants of course roses. White ones

Sometimes you even get a few of them, them now being red

You once asked why the roses are red considering that he always plants white ones which he answered with him painting them red just for you

Ah yes, you totally forgot that little thing about his dorm. And isn't it cute? Such a pretty red as well... although the paint is a bit fragile and falls off in flakes if you aren't careful

His pastries are a bit dangerous to eat, he adds sometimes odd things because someone wrote a tip in a baking forum as a joke, but his lunches are pretty good

When you try to help him though he is strictly against it. Especially when it's about doing the laundry

Meh. Probably nothing. Although... you have found splatters of that red paint once or twice on a piece of clothing of his before... probably go it on there the last time he painted the roses red

Though, you do wonder... where is that cleaver that had been missing from the kitchen?

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader #self aware au #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst riddle #twisted wonderland riddle #yandere x reader #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle #riddle rosehearts x reader #yandere riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #tw: yandere #tw: blood #tw: murder #tw: death #tw: violence #tw: stalking #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: obsession

[iciclesses]

Is Soap the crazy ex that's stealing your stuff and Ghost won't do anything about it?

cw toxic relationship, stalking, pillow humping, panty sniffing/licking

The sheer AMOUNT of asks and comments and tags I got begging for it to be fem Soap... TBH I hadn't originally Thought that but yall convinced my ass so easy!! (As if toxic lesbianism isn't my bread and fucking butter)

Soap being sooo obsessed with you- Ghost dumped her because he loves loves LOVES seeing Soap emotionally distraught but got distracted with you soon after, he forgot to take Soap back before her last bits of sanity fled her.

She starts by finding all your social media, she swears that you're posting soft launch photos of Ghost’s hand on your thigh specifically to taunt her. Of course, all that does is rile her up more, and the logical conclusion to cope with that, of course, is to break into your flat while you're away on vacation with Ghost. Serves you right for flying to the fucking Caribbean with her man.

She considers smashing everything she can get her claws on while draped on your bed, your cat purring against Soap while she pets it mindlessly. Spares herself a little maniacal smile at the idea burning your whole fucking place down- she'd wait around a corner as you'd come home and fall to your knees in agony having lost it all.

Scratching just beneath the cats chin and cooing, "Don't worry love, I'd be sure to take good care of ye. Probably better than yer mum thas' for sure."

Ultimately, she does something stranger. She spends the entirety of your remaining vacation (two weeks, one day, and seventeen hours-- bleeding Christ, Ghost never spent more than two nights at Soap’s flat) living as you. The sweet old woman across from you that you asked to check in on your cat while you were gone? Why, she's so old her eyesight is going out. She doesn't trust her memory that much either. So when she squints up at Soap, she doesn't question anything as she passes the fraud your house key.

"Back early, eh pet?"

"Ah, no, but time does fly, doesnae?"

She wakes up every morning in your perfumed, satin sheets. She brushes her teeth with your brush, your paste- licking the bristles like a sweet until all the mint flavor was gone. Showers with all your soaps and slathers herself with your expensive oils after. Looks herself in the eyes in the mirror as she puts your lipstick on. Finds any set of clothes in your closet that fit her, unafraid to play tailor to make especially pretty items fit. Doesn't care if your shoes don't fit her, she makes them fit one way or another. Eats your oats, drinks your coffee from your unwashed mug as she looks down fondly as the cat eats the breakfast Soap put out for it. When she orders out, she puts your name down. Gets a little thrill in the cafes when they call out her tea but your name, gleefully smiling as she takes the paper cup.

Takes strange men home, and by home that still means yours, so they can fuck her like a worthless whore while spitting your name. It's pornographic when Soap throws her head back and cums with a cry when a man won't stop whining your name. She can't escape the sweet smell of your perfume.

Living as you, Soap has never felt so beautiful or put together in her life. It comes as a horrible, dizzying conclusion to Soap in the dead of night: she's not mad at you anymore. She's in love with you. It has her staggering out of bed, nearly collapsing at your hamper when she finds what she was hoping for. Falling over herself back onto your bed and mounting one of your pillows, muscular hips jerking as she rubs her bare, sopping cunt against the fabric. One hand gripping the corner of the pillow, keeping it in place and imagining it was your hair in her fist. The other hand holding a pair of your underwear to her nose. She takes a grotesquely deep sniff, eyes rolling back in her head with a guttural moan. She doesn't stop even as her hips start to buck faster, more desperate. It was then Soap’s turn to whine out your name like it were a last prayer, again and again. Strong thighs flexing as her rhythym became more erratic, her body bowing forward as she chased her orgasm. Tongue daring to dart out and tasting salt, tasting you, the new love of her life, this was the straw that finally broke Soap for good.

#cw toxic relationship #cw stalking #noel.haps #ghoap x reader #soap x reader #fem soap #me writing soap as nuts: yea lesbianism will do that to ye #forgive me for bad english im very sick

[iridescentdove]

What about a Platonic! BSD x Child! Reader is very smart, like almost Ranpo-level smart, but they don’t use their smarts and intellect for anything at all except for online video games, board games, etc., and they’re lazy and don’t go outside at all. Plus, the first time Reader and Dazai had a game of chess, Dazai literally lost two moves in, and Dazai was rethinking his entire life choices in that moment because how the fu-

(How Dazai and Reader’s game of chess went *REAL* link)

WHY DO I HEAR BOSS MUSIC?

platonic!bsd x child!smart!reader

A/N: I for an odd reason, love it when characters are humbled and seen inferior 😭 I love this request too! Here it is~

Everyone loves you.

I'm so jealous rn /j

Well as a kid it would be expected to be like that! Although, it was a little different as you were ... considered unique to other children around you. How so?

ULTRA DEDUCTION BABY.

No but for real. FUKUZAWA merely took you into the agency since you seemed to have had no parents by your side to take care of you. As such, he took on the responsibility himself. The agency takes care of you now! <3

Anyways, let's say you were basically rivalling RANPO in terms of deduction and overall smartness capabilities, as he now thinks you are a worthy opponent.

But even he himself lost to someone like DAZAI.

Yes. Of course it was true, the suicidal detective just seemed to be way too good. The so-called 'world's best detective' had lost to a man, in which who, flirts with women 24/7 and asks for double suicide everywhere he went.

But to say the day came when brunette's demise lurked around the corner ... because of a chess game.

The agency had nothing important going on in particular as the peace of Yokohama was maintained in the meantime. Simply put, you guys were on vacation. So what else to do other than some old family bonding?

There were lots of activities planned that day, and everyone had enjoyed it to the fullest. You did also find it fun, but ... of course, for someone your age – you were mature as fuck.

And so, you did what everyone wouldn't have the balls to do.

Challenge DAZAI OSAMU himself to a chess match.

So obviously, everyone got a bit nervous. Pretty sure you had no idea how smart the suicidal maniac was, nor did they ever believe you would last a good 'ol round even once. By some experience of a certain detective – there is absolutely no one better than DAZAI himself.

The chess game went on. You looked so cute and innocent! Maybe he should go easy on you?? After all, you're just a kid.

And yet ... he was downright horrified.

In a matter of four turns in, the death-craving young man was absolutely OBLITERATED by you. Upon the match ending, a pin drop silence was heard. Eyes widened in shock, whom even RANPO himself never imagined such. Everyone never spoke, not even coughed for a solid 5 minutes.

But it was true. You DID defeat him. FUKUZAWA had the face of a very proud parent – he really didn't think you'd emerge victory in this small innocent match.

The president promised to treat you out next time a successful mission was in tow. Of course, DAZAI couldn't believe he had lost to you! A little child!

It would definitely take a lot of time for him to wrap his head around that – but once he does, oh boy.

I think you a little crazy there uncle ahaha

He almost literally brags about your existence everyday to anyone. You can't tell me he hasn't literally shoved in and mocked in front of people's faces with that shit eating grin of his oh my fucking God 😭

Then again, no one is safe. An even better gifted than the two greatest treasures of the Armed Detective Agency.

FYODOR better be shaking in his fugly ass boots.

You're coming for him alright. (and so am I)

Honestly, the ADA cannot be anymore proud to have an ally like you by their side. Missions and war would cease to exist from how well you managed to help them. And even moreso, combined with RANPO himself.

World destruction who?? I only know (Y/N) (L/N) 😍

Your existence is known, everyone knows about what you've done and how respected you are despite your young age.

Who tf let the Port Mafia fuck ya'll up?? Oh nevermind they were destroyed because of ur amazing little ass. The Hunting Dogs tryna tear apart the ADA which was mistaken as terrorists? Umh chill anyways so you already had a plan– RANPO doesn't know what to do for once? You're already there to help. Decay of the Angels? Lives up to their name, they're decaying under your superior brain and intellect.

You're just found to be the lifeline of the agency. In return, everyone treats you very well (spoils you even), making sure you lived your days as a child to the best extreme possible.

And to be frank – no one dare underestimate you anymore.

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #platonic bsd #armed detective agency #ada x reader #bsd #decay of angels #port mafia #ranpo edogawa #dazai osamu

[gay-wh0re-slut]

Could we get a #bottom-rhea fic? rhea is overconfident/cocky and gets put in her place. And please, that tongue piercing 🥵

oh shit oh fuck..,.,,,.. hell yeah i can. i’m squirming in my seat rn lmaooooooo

Shut Up

rhea x fem!reader

content: rhea gets a lil over confident about her work in the bedroom and you got tired of it so you put her in her place, well your place… and kiss her and choke her and fuck her and and and no plot just sex

Laid across the bed waiting for your lover to come home. She had promised to do the most awful things to you when she finally came back after a week of traveling. You weren’t wearing anything specifically sexy in case she was too tired, just a lil booty short that was barely covering your ass and one of her many band tees. She loved seeing you in them, so you knew she would at least comment on it if anything.

She texted you saying she was on the way from the airport about an hour ago, so you checked her location and she was one minute away. Your heart was beating fast and your breath was lost as you thought of seeing her again since last week. You were too excited to move so you sat… waiting.

You heard the door open and close, some shuffling, the dogs clicking on the tile floor, finally footsteps approaching the bedroom.

“Hey baby,” the tired wrestler opened the bedroom door, “I’ve missed you,” she literally plopped on the bed beside you, “so much.” She leaned over and grabbed your face lazily to kiss you before she laid down beside you, facing you.

“I missed you too, my love,” you replied. Your hand rested on her shoulder, rubbing it with your thumb. You were a bit disappointed that she seemed too tired to do anything but you didn’t mind too much, you know how busy she is.

After a few quiet moments of her breathing in her home, bed, and you, she looked so peaceful, she fluttered her pretty eyes open, “how’s it been here?”

You took a long breath, “pretty good, nothing too crazy. Worked, you know, the usual.”

“Mmm,” her eyes slowly shut again.

You watched her breathe, quietly, watching her nostrils flare with every exhale. Your hand moved to her cheek, you leaned over to kiss her but she immediately and swiftly pinned you down, holding both hands by your head as she straddled your hips.

“Rhea!” you yelped.

“Gotcha,” she laughed maniacally.

“Fuck,” you laughed with her, “I thought you were tired,” you finally caught your breath.

“And break my promise,” she snuck her lips to your neck, “do you remember my promise?” she whispered as she trailed soft kisses down your neck. She took her time, letting you feel every one of them. She replaced some with a soft lick. You could feel her piercing dragging on your skin, sending a shock wave through your body.

You let out a weak moan, “y-yes.”

“Mhmm,” she switched to the other side, “and what was it?” her voice was graveled.

“That you would…”

“Mhmm,” her hands relieved the slightest bit of pressure.

“Mark me yours,” you whined.

“What else?” she moved your hands to be held by one of hers while the free hand snakes its way under your shirt feeling every inch of your skin underneath.

“That y-you would-”

“Say it,” she said sternly.

You struggled to form words as she nipped at your ear. Her hand toyed with your nipple causing you to arch your back into her. You huffed a moan as you slammed your back into the bed again.

“C’mon baby, let me hear you say it,” her accent became deeper as she growled in your ear.

“Mmmfuck,” you whined as you slightly bucked your hips.

“You like when I tease you, huh?” her evil smile formed on her lips.

“Yess,” as you tried to break free from her hands.

“Uh uh,” she tightened her grip, “you know the deal.”

“Please!”

“Oh c’mon baby,” she mocked, “just four little words, I know you can do it.”

You threw your head back in frustration. Rolling your eyes at her you took a deep sigh.

“How am I supposed to know what you want, princess?” she continued the mocking tone until the pet name became angry.

After not even a second, you gathered the strength you had left pushed your hands up and broke her grip, bucked your hips up to push her off of you. She flailed while falling over to her side of the bed looking shocked that you could over throw her. You climbed on top of her and copied the grip she had on you to begin with.

“No, Mami. Fuck you.” you smiled on top of her.

“Wha-”

“Shhh,” you quieted her with a finger over her mouth.

She shook her head in confusion, “what’s going on?” she spoke around your digit.

“It’s my turn,” you began to follow in her footsteps by kissing her neck.

“Baby,” she breathed.

“Hmm?”

“Ho-Why did you do that?”

“Like it’s hard for me to control you,” you said slyly, “As if you don’t like it,” now your hand was under her shirt.

“I do but I’m always on-”

“Shut up,” you barked.

“Excuse me?” she was brought out of her trance.

“I said,” you leaned closer to her, “shut. up.”

You gave her a quick peck on the lips before going back to nipping at her ears and kissing on her neck. Now your hand was toying with her nipple. You knew she could easily break out of your hold but you were grateful she let you keep going. Quiet but deep moans were flowing out of her as you continued.

“Now, you can take back over and do whatever you want to me or…” the hand under her shirt gripped onto her neck, “I can prove that you like to be a bottom.”

She snarled at you as her response before rolling her eyes back into her head because your grip tightened around her neck.

“That’s what I thought,” you chuckled.

“Shut up,” she snapped back.

“Aw, hard to be a bottom, huh?”

“Don’t-”

You kiss her hard to shut her up. She was frozen for a moment before she released the tension in her body. Her hips gently bucked trying to push you farther in to her.

“Now actually shut up,” you sat up, releasing your grip on her wrists, “and take it.”

“Shit,” she mumbled as she watched you scoot down her legs and push them open.

You kissed along her bare skin of her thighs, slowly sneaking your fingers into the waistband of her booty shorts. You tugged at them and she lifted her hips to allow you to slip them off. Once you threw them into oblivion, you grazed your hands over her hips, up her stomach, caressed her tits once more before tracing your hands back down to her thighs.

Her hands were gripping at the bed sheets as she was breathing heavily with a soft moan here and there. You placed some final kisses on her thighs before reaching her core. Your hot breath teasing her before doing anything else. Her hips slightly jerked towards you silently begging for more.

“Look at me,” you said staring at her from below smiling.

It took her a second to recognize what you said, but she finally made eye contact with you. Your smile grew wider when those sapphire eyes met yours because for the first time ever, she was the one that looked helpless.

“Good girl,” you threw at her which was something she always said to you.

You could see her grip tighten on the sheets when she heard those words. You chuckled slightly before resuming placing soft pecks on her lower body. Every now and then you would get so close but never where she needed you. Every time you did get close, she would close her eyes hoping you would go for it but you never did. You had to remind her three times to keep eye contact.

“Baby…please,” she begged.

“What?” you said innocently.

“Please just- ugh!”

“A little frustrated, are we?” you loved being on this side. Seeing her writhe, pleading for you, it felt powerful, now you see why she loved it so much.

“Mhmm,” she whined.

“Hm,” you hummed contently.

You could see that she was already almost dripping onto the sheets, so you decided to finally give her what she wanted. Making sure she was watching, you stuck out your tongue and took a long, slow lick over her core.

A guttural moan could be heard above you as her back arched. You gave her a second to recuperate before doing it again. And once again, the guttural moan and arched back returned.

Apparently she was tired of waiting for more, so her hand found your head and pushed you into her. Although, you liked being a top for a night, you loved when she would control you. But you fought back, this was your time, your rules tonight.

So your hand gripped her wrist and peeled it away from your head, "I'm in charge tonight and I'm going to do whatever I want. Understood?" You leaned on your elbows between her beefy thighs.

"Fuck!" she growled.

You let her seethe for a minute before asking again, "Understood?"

She let out a big sigh, "yes."

"Thank you," you situated yourself back where you were, "Can I continue?"

She squinted at you but then softened her look, "yes."

And you didn't waste any time. One hand held her legs open while the other was gently placed on the side of her torso. You worked your magic on her core with your tongue, flicking up and down, side to side, anything and everything to get her riled up. And it worked perfectly.

Her hips were moving perfectly against your mouth, her beautiful moans and whines filled the room. Her hand snuck back to your head but you didn’t mind this time. Every now and then she would pull your hair subconsciously.

“B-baby, please,” she said quietly.

“Hmm,” you hummed into the hot mess, sending her growing knot closer to its breaking point.

“Mmf,” her hips bucked, “I need- fuck!”

You stopped what you were doing to sit up a bit to look at her, “What baby?”

“I need your…” she took a deep breath and stared right into your eyes, “fingers.”

You gave her a devilish smile and went back to your job. The hand that was caressing her body, moved to her inner thigh, teasing at her oozing center. Her hips jerked once more. After making her wait forever, you gently pushed two fingers into her.

“Fuck yes,” she arched her back.

You continued to carefully pump in and out of her as you continued lap her up. Moans filled your ears, her hands gripped your head and bed sheets so hard you thought she would pull your hair out and rip a hole in the sheets simultaneously.

She mumbled out curses as you went, she threw in a few pet names too. You were starting to realize why she liked being on top so much.

You could feel her clenching around your fingers, her breathing became faster, “Mmmmyesss like that, baby,” she groaned.

The knot that was in her stomach finally unraveled, her back arched, her legs squeezed your head, she slammed her fist on the bed, she pushed your head farther into her.

“FUCK,” she screamed.

As she rode it out, she released the tension in her body as she calmed her breathing and her spine gently fell back onto the bed. You carefully pull out of her then took one last lap at her center, hearing a weak moan from above as you did.

You sat up, trailing soft kisses on her bare hips to her stomach. Her hand rested on your head the whole way up pushing your hair out of the way. Once you reached eye level, you brought your hand to your mouth and cleaned off the two fingers you used moments ago.

Her mouth dropped open for a second before she pulled you in for a deep sloppy kiss. The two of stayed there for a moment, before you fell next to her.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, “you’re doing that more often.”

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #oh i need her so bad dude #my brainnnn

[dichromaticdyke]

ALRIGHT I'LL POST MY ANALYSIS OF THE MTL JERK-OFF SCENE HERE TOO.

you're welcome @ogurizz

for reference, this is a character analysis based solely off the scene in "Writersklok" where Nathan explains their "process" to Abigail. yes, i'm serious.

nathan:

sleeping on the floor with piles of booze and drugs, not surprising there. though out of everyone who’s still asleep, he’s the only one who’s at the very least stirring, and he’s checking the time. he’s aware he has to be at least somewhat responsible for the band getting up and working, but he doesn’t want to.

then for breakfast, he’s just staring angrily at his plate of meat and eggs and potatoes. kind of unenthused, like this is the meal he used to eat in his football days just to bulk up—there’s no joy in it, it’s just routine.

the most emotion we see from him in this scene is when he’s jacking off, he looks both intense and and also like he’s VERY pent up. which i think is reminiscent of how he’s the one who craves a romantic connection the most. even though he does have casual sex, it doesn’t seem to be fulfilling him.

pickles:

passed out in his bathroom, clearly hungover and had a rough bender the night before. there’s something very lonely about it—despite them all being addicts who love to party and binge drink, pickles is still the one who does it to the most excess, and that’s so common that it’s normal for no one else to be around afterwards. they know he’ll be “fine.”

and he is, he gets his cinnamon buns, indulging in something that we know makes him very happy. his face there looks a bit happy but also a bit unsure. i mean based off the framing of this shot, it’s implied they’re all having breakfast alone. which might not be true, they all do seem like they could be together in the same room since they’re each in different areas, but that could also just speak to the familiarity they have with each other. even when they’re alone, that’s their spot.

but back to pickles, casual smirk while jacking off. not much to say except—this one’s for you pickle fuckers.

murderface:

he’s also been drinking. the way he’s positioned too, his arms crossed like they usually are reflects his typical disdain and anger that he carries through life. he can’t find a moment of peace, even when sleeping.

he’s clearly not getting enough sleep, though, likely still troubled by something, whether it’s anxiety/insecurity or nightmares about his father, and so all he has for breakfast is coffee.

again, he seems most at peace while jacking off, and he’s also really focused. we know he’s not getting as much action as the rest of the band, but he’s at least found a way to deal with it so he doesn’t get too frustrated.

toki:

funnily enough, he has the easiest time sleeping. i think that’s crazy given his TRAUMA, but he clearly has a routine he sticks to. he’s got his sleep mask on, he’s sleeping in his clothes on top of his bed like a heathen—whatever it is, he knows how to get comfortable, and honestly? probably just having a bed AT ALL is better than his childhood, so that’s all he needs.

then he has just a very simple cereal for breakfast—even though he could have anything he wants, and even though he DOES indulge at times, he prefers the simple things in many cases.

and he jacks off like a maniac: not only is he using that intense focused face he makes while coloring and texting (clearly coloring, sex, and social interaction all fire off the same synapses in his brain) but he’s also. not in his room. @supersaturnnyoomkitty and i have talked about this before and we don’t know where the hell he is in this shot. but he’s not comfortable jacking off in his room, probably because of all the creepy pictures of his parents staring at him.

skwisgaar:

my babygirl…sleeping with a bunch of groupies who he’d just spent the night with. i always think it’s interesting that he lets his groupies stay the night, i think he longs for the closeness/intimacy of sharing a bed with someone after sex, but he’d never admit it.

at breakfast, he just looks bored. he had a beer and nathan’s coffee mug and waffles, but all he’s interested in is his guitar. that’s all he’s ever truly interested in, regardless of who else may or may not be around.

and then he’s naked when he’s jacking off. because of COURSE he is. besides guitar, sex is the only thing he’s good at, he takes it very seriously, very intensely. besides guitar, it’s probably the only worth he thinks he has.

and then none of them really feel like recording. not because they’re dispassionate about music, obviously they’re not. they all care deeply about music and dethklok, even if they’re just terribly lazy. because they have gotten so used to the rockstar lifestyle that it’s easy for them to fall back on base pleasures, even when they’re all clearly suffering from loneliness or trauma, and they can just WORK ON THAT if they made music together, if they worked together as a BAND a FAMILY. but they don’t always want to, because it’s gay to care.

i spent way too much time looking at this scene to write this, i deserve recompense.

#dichromaticdyke.exe #Metalocalypse #written in a fit of divine madness #Nathan Explosion #Pickles the Drummer #William Murderface #Toki Wartooth #Skwisgaar Skwigelf #you are lucky that i was already bullied by others to write this out lmfao #also nyoom sorry for pinging you again for this lol

[masn-mount]

How about some cute fluff with new bf Jude!! xx

here’s a little blurb, I combined it with another request I got! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think. xx

1,6k words. no warnings.

"Jude's, please." His name rolled of your tongue before you could even think twice when your friend asked you if you wanted to go back to her place for the night. If you were thinking rationally then you would have taken her up on her offer but you didn't want to spend the night with anyone other than Jude. Ever since you had met him a few months ago it was rare for you to spend a night in your own apartment unless he was in another country playing a game.

"He's probably already asleep, babe." Your friend was right, he had texted you about three hours ago to ask if you were going over to his so he could stay up and wait for you. You had teased him, telling him that you would if he was the one to come and pick you up which ended up in a game of silence from his side for ten minutes before he gave in and texted you to tell you that he would get you back for that and for you to stay safe and drink loads of water.

"I'll wake him up," you frowned looking over at your friend as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. If you once again were thinking rationally then you'd remember that he had played an evening game. You knew he was tired and that he had early training the next morning but that wasn't enough to make you change your mind.

The drive to Jude's house wasn't long and once there your friend followed you to the front door. "I'll wait in the car until Jude let's you in, yeah?", she hugged you before getting back in her car.

You stood there for a few seconds, collecting your thoughts and feeling a lot more sober than before.

Your phone was pressed to your ear and you were humming quietly as you wait for Jude to answer. "Hey, babe. Y'alright?"

"I'm cold," you said, pouting as if he could see you.

"Get inside, silly girl."

"I would if you'd let me in."

"What are yo-," you could hear the rustling of his sheets as he got out of bed, mumbling something about you being crazy for not telling him you were outside the second he had picked up the phone. You wanted to tell him that he was being dramatic but bit your lip. "You're a maniac, you know that, yeah?" You're no longer hearing his voice through the phone but instead you're face to face with him.

You grin up at him, "yes, you always tell me."

"I do, don't I?" His hand reaches out to grab your own so he can pull you inside and the second you walk into his warm home the door is closed behind you and your arms wrap around his neck. You whisper that you've missed him, even if you saw him earlier that morning. "I missed you too, pretty girl. Did you have fun?" You pull away, looking up at him and nod before you press a gentle kiss to his lips. You stand there, kissing for a few seconds before you lean back to tell him that you're feet are killing you. Jude leads you to the stairs so you can sit down before he kneels down on one knee, pulling your heeled foot up onto his thigh so he can start working on untying the laces up your leg. Your hands rest on his shoulders, fingers working against his skin and you remind him that you hadn't been able to give him his post match massage today. The smile on your face makes Jude feel dizzy. "You'll just have to give me one tomorrow." You were too concentrated on looking at his arms and chest to reply, eyes taking him in and wondering how he could possibly be so beautiful and all yours. You knew he had caught you looking at him when he glanced up at you for a second before playfully rolling his eyes. "Stop staring at me," he laughs while pulling up your other foot.

"Just admiring....I love your arms." He shakes his head before turning his head to the side so he can press a kiss to your wrist.

You could tell he was tired, struggling to keep his eyes open and the task he had at hand was starting to make him frustrated. "These fucking heels are ridiculous, how do you even put them on?"

"I think they're cute!"

"Sure they are but they're still a pain to take off."

"Try walking in them all night."

"I'd rather not." He smiled, grabbing your hands and helping you up after managing to finally untie your second shoe. "Can you make it to my room? just be careful and make sure it's my door you open this time, please." He laughs before kissing your forehead, reminding you of that time you had walked into his guestroom and in the process terrified his mum who was trying to fall asleep. Your cheeks warm up at the memory because you were sure it was one of the worst possible ways to meet your boyfriend's mum for the first time.

You tell Jude to shut up and with a pat to your bum you turn around and walk up the stairs. Jude stays back, making sure you make it up the stairs without taking a tumble which earns him an eyeroll from you. "I can walk fine," you tell him and once a few seconds pass he walks to his kitchen to grab a glass, waterbottle, a snack and something to help with your headache he's sure you'll wake up with. Once his hands are full he shuts the light off and makes his way up to his room, looking forward to getting under the covers and continuing his sleep but with you by his side.

Jude is surprised to find you still standing in your dress instead of naked and under the covers. "What's with the sad face?"

"I can't reach the zip."

"Can you do anything without me?"

"Mhmm, but I don't want to."

"That's fair," he laughs and once he's put the items in his hands on the table next to your side of the bed he stops behind you. "You look beautiful tonight, so pretty." He leans forward and presses his lips to the back of your neck and shoulder when your dress is unzipped.

"Saying that as you're undressing me, always so charming, Bellingham." You tease, giggling when he pinches your hip.

"Mhmm, I did tell you earlier too." He was reffering to when you had called him before going out. You called to wish him goodluck before his game but it had ended up with you showing him your outfit and Jude repeatedly complimenting you on how good you looked, earning him a teasing from his teammate he was sitting on the bus with.

"Thank you, Jude," after a few stolen kisses and lingering touches you pull apart.

You put on the shirt Jude throws your way before ending up in his bathroom, sitting on his counter as he helps you take your makeup off. "I wanna sleep, Jude."

"I know, baby but you'll kill me if I let you sleep with your makeup on, just a minute." You knew he was right so you sat with your eyes closed as your hand slid to the back of his neck, nails scratching against the skin as he gently drags the makeup wipe against your skin before applying your moisturizer. The moisturizer he had bought along with your favorite serum and toner so you didn't have to carry them back and forth every day. The gesture may have seemed small and Jude had tried to play it off, telling you that it wasn't a big deal but that along with the purple toothbrush sitting next to his own had almost made you cry.

"All done."

"Thank you, you're too good to me, Jude." You lean forward and kiss him, feeling him smile against your lips as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you off the counter and carrying you to bed. Jude gets in right after you and once he does you make yourself comfortable, head resting on his chest and arm around his waist. "I'm sorry for waking you up."

"No need to be sorry."

"I know you're tired after your game and I show up here, middle of the night...making you stay up to take care of me."

"You're not making me do anything, y/n," he kisses the top of your head, "y'know I want you here and I like taking care of you, I also know you'd do the same for me."

"I'm sorry about the loss."

"Yeah, it was a shit game."

"I think you played really good." He laughed before squeezing your hip.

"How would you know that?" You leaned your head back so you could look up at him, smiling at how he was narrowing his eyes at you. "Do you always just say I play good for the sake of making me happy?"

"We were at this bar for a bit and they had the game on, drama queen."

"I bet you were cheering every time I touched the ball."

"You'd be happy to know I was going to fight a guy for trash talking you if the girls didn't pull me away." He laughed before leaning down, lips finding your rosy cheeks, repedetly pressing kisses to the skin before finding your lips.

"I know you'd beat his ass." You nod, telling him that of course you would before kissing him again and when your eyes start feeling too heavy you lean your head back on Jude's chest as his own head hits the pillow. "I think you're my lucky charm," you're not sure how it's possible but he pulls you even closer to his body.

"I'll be at the next one."

"You won't have a choice."

#jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #football imagine #football fanfic #my writing #icl dont know how I feel about this but yea #I wanna finish the angsty request I got but my brain is so stuck

[formulaforza]

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—03. i think i fell in love today —word count: 7.5k —warnings: despicable tooth rotting clawing my eyes out eating the stuffing in my pillows fluff. truly its horrendous. lets talk about it. —love, mackie... i'm sleeping hopefully. right now I am hammocking. the ice cream truck just drove past. I love June.

After Paris, Chris was a bit apprehensive when it came to her ability to navigate the airport in Abu Dhabi with any sort of efficiency. Especially not now, where she needs to go through customs and register for a visitor’s visa and find her luggage and get her money exchanged. Pleasantly, though, she’s surprised at the ease she works through her notes app checklist. It’s within the hour that she’s climbing into the backseat of a taxi and heading to the hotel. 

She spends the entirety of the twenty-something minute drive doing a deep dive on Joris’ Instagram. He’s going to be waiting for you, Charles had told her the night they’d worked it all out. How he knew his friend would be free is beyond Chris, but that's not even the bigger issue at hand. The issue is, of course, that she’s had no more than a momentary interaction with Joris in the background of a FaceTime call two weeks ago. The thought of breezing past him in the hotel lobby is a mortifying one. 

It’s quarter after seven by the time she gets there, and when she catches a glance of herself in a mirror on the wall and almost bursts into laughter. Someone could tell her that she fell down the stairs in Austin and hit her head and is in a coma and it would feel more believable than her life right now. This just… this doesn’t happen to her; five star hotels in foreign countries and heavy accents and guys who call her beautiful from the other side of the globe. 

She spots Joris in an armchair on his phone at the other end of the lobby. She approaches nervously, and he stirs from his phone at her sudden proximity. “Hi,” Chris greets, sounds almost apologetic for interrupting him. “Joris, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” he nods, dragging out the vowel sounds when he glances back down at his screen. Chris wonders if he knows he’s waiting for her. 

She smiles. “I’m Chris.”

“Right!” He snaps his fingers, shoves his phone into his pocket. “Chris.” He stands and opens his arms to hug her like they’re old friends. It’s a move straight from her book, one that she’s pulled on dozens of people before. It’s not one that she’s met with often. Chris thinks they’ll get on well, her and Joris. That’s a good thing, right? Friendly friends. 

Chris’ mom had told her more than once that the quickest way to know someone’s character is through their friends. Only a maniac is rude to animals and elderly and children, she’d said a million times over, it’s the character of the people they choose to spend time with that matters. Joris has no idea Chris is silently observing his every action, picking them apart on a human level.

On the elevator ride up, Joris fills Chris in on everything that’s happened during the free practices that day, tells her that it’s been a relatively clean couple of sessions. You do know of the risk this weekend, yes? P2 or P3, he asks and answers his own question. Chris nods. If she didn’t know, she does now. The room is on the fifth floor, she notes, staring at the glowing five button as she picks at her cuticles. It hits her like a ton of bricks, her anxiety skyrocketing as the elevator ascends, her stomach left behind on the ground level. 

This whole thing is crazy, and not the quirky, silly story you tell your friends about over a vodka cran crazy. Just plain crazy. Insane. Off the wall absurd. Why, why are they sharing a room? Why is she even here? What is it about her that can’t be found somewhere, anywhere, else? And the most prudent question, the one ringing in her ears louder with each passing moment; what is it about him? 

Chris has never considered herself to be logical, not in the slightest, but she does like to maintain the idea that she’s well grounded. She might not always act in a way that makes the most sense, but she always makes those choices within the bounds of her reality. 

And, because her nerves permeate off her like a thirteen-year-old’s B.O, Joris takes a stab at cooling her down. “How was your planes?”

“Good. Smooth.” she nods, forces a smile. Her weight shifts from heel to heel, thumbs looped through her backpack straps. The floor is a shiny black marble with white and gold veins, one that commands your attention. Chris pulls her eyes from it to look at him anyway. Nervous and insane or not, she wants to make a good impression. “I could do without navigating the airport in Paris ever again, though.”

“Oh,” he laughs. “It never gets easier.”

“Does any of it?” She offers up a laugh, but it’s as genuine as the smile her face held before. 

He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off with the ding of the doors opening. There, in the hallway with more marble floors and a wallpaper that walks the line between elegant and gaudy, a couple stands on a white carpet runner. The man has on a Mercedes cap. Chris wonders if they know a Formula One driver is staying on their floor. 

The four of them sidestep awkwardly around each other with polite smiles to the floor, and before she knows it Joris is holding a keycard over the lock on a heavy door and handing the piece of plastic to her. 

It’s not a room. It’s a suite. There’s a living room and a kitchenette and a whole separate bedroom to this place. It’s expensive, wildly so, she’s sure. 

She wheels her suitcase into the bedroom, leaves it in the corner by an armchair with her backpack. At the bottom of the bag is her purse, which she digs out while Joris is using the bathroom, moving things around from one bag to the other. 

The drive to the circuit is twenty minutes, at least, and Joris talks the whole time, mostly about how nervous he is and how hard he’s trying to make sure Charles doesn’t notice. Chris doesn’t tell him that Charles is also beyond nervous about the whole thing–or that he knows good and well everyone around him is losing their minds. It doesn’t seem like the type of thing that would make Joris feel any better. 

“Pascale and Enzo, you know them, yes? Charles’ Mum and brother?” Joris questions.

“Nope,” Chris shakes her head. “Not yet.”

Oh, he doesn’t say. “You’ll like them if you like Charles,” he laughs. “You do like Charles?”

Chris bites down on a smile, a laugh leaving her nose in an exhale. “I do.”

“Good, good.” He nods. “Anyway, they are not here tonight, they already have gone back to the hotel. Arthur is there, still. Do you know him?”

“I think it’s going to be easier for both of us if you just assume I don’t know anyone.”

“Ah, okay. Will do.”

Chris wonders what Charles has said about her to Joris, to Arthur, to anyone. All of the stories he has or hasn’t told them about. She has almost exclusively not talked about him back home. Not because she doesn’t want to, she just can’t figure out how to say anything without sounding like a reality television star. Maybe he’s the same way. There’s a real chance that nobody in his family even knows that she’s coming, and maybe that’s the way she’d like it to be. 

Her reunion with Charles couldn’t be more different than their first meeting. The paddock is empty with exception of team crews and straggling media members. There isn’t a Bud Light in sight and the pass hanging around her neck has a picture of her on the back. He must’ve pulled it from her Instagram, the one that he keeps talking about wanting to follow back. A picture of her and CHRISTYN ELLIOTT - FULL WEEKEND written in bold letters. 

“He’s probably at the briefing,” Joris explains, checking his watch and walking one stride for every two of Chris’. She tries her hardest to keep up with him as he expertly navigates the paddock, all while trying to memorize his moves so she doesn’t end up stranded sometime this weekend. 

A whistle gets their attention, cutting sharply through the hot desert air. Her and Joris both snap their heads around to find the perpetrator of the summons. Charles pats Pierre’s shoulder and jogs ahead of the group of drivers, all already engaged in their own conversations and heading off into different directions. 

He has such a carefree smile on his face, jogging over with happy eyes and wiggling brows and a stupid little wink that puts a smile on her face. “Hello, Christyn,” he quips, greets her with open arms. And then, once his arms are pulling her to him so tight she can’t take a full breath, when he has so much energy to give her he can’t help but rock on the sides of his feet, he whispers just for her, “Hi,” a soft kiss on the crown of her head, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

All she can think about is how warm he is. Warm, and smells so nice. She doesn’t know how she’s going to ever go home. Not when he’s so warm. 

“How was the planes?” He asks, an arm comfortable slotting around her as they resume their walk to wherever it is she’s being led. 

“Uh, I’m tired, but.” She smiles. At him. Right there where she can touch him. Where he is touching her. “I’m here, so. I’m happy.”

On the walk back to hospitality, she asks him how his day’s gone. He’s sure she already knows, that Joris talked her ear off the entire drive over or that she’d checked the media reports of the practice sessions, but it’s nice to pretend she doesn’t know. He tries to summarize everything as concise as he can, because even though he loves talking to her, he’d much rather listen. He can listen to her talk until the sun burns out.

He’s not surprised to notice that Joris has peeled off from them, especially not because he didn’t even realize he wasn’t trailing behind him and Chris until he held open the door to his driver’s room and Joris was nowhere to be found.

He can’t count the amount of texts he’s had to have sent Chris from his driver’s room. How badly he wanted to just be talking with her, and now she’s here. She’s here, she’s here, she’s here with him. 

He moves around the room, cleaning and reorganizing his things for a fresh start in the morning. Casually, he mentions that he has a sponsorship obligation tonight, last race and all, and that Arthur and Joris are coming along. He doesn’t speak it so offhandedly because he’d forgotten, but because he didn’t want her to get freaked out by the idea of it. He explains that she’s welcome to tag along, or, if she’d feel more comfortable, she can stay here while Andrea packs up his things. 

She’s leaning against the wall just next to the doorway, watching him. Without hesitation, she replies, “I’ll come with you.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking to her. “You don’t have to.”

She nods, looks at the ground or the couch or something that isn’t him, folds her hand to look at her nails and lets out an almost silent laugh. His stomach drops. “You sound like you don’t want me to go.”

“No, no.” He corrects, and she still doesn’t look at him. He waves for her attention, cocks his head to the side when he gets it, “No. That’s not. I just want you to do what you want to do.”

“I want to go.”

“Okay,” he smiles.

She crosses her arms over her chest, looks like she’s trying so hard not to smile at him. “You’re being weird, you know?”

He shrugs, because she’s right. “I told you I would be.”

“Well,” Chris sighs, moves across the room to the small couch in the corner, “why are you being weird?”

“Because.” I want to kiss you, he stops himself from saying. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you twenty minutes ago, since you decided to come, since I met you, maybe. 

“Because, why?” She laughs, and he’s suddenly struck with the thought of what her laughter might taste like. Sweet, surely, just like it sounds. Like a popsicle on a summer day. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he tries his absolute hardest to wipe that thought from his brain before texting his brother back. “Je veux t'embrasser tout le temps,” I want to kiss you all the time, he mumbles, isn’t even sure it actually leaves his lips or if he keeps it locked in the vault. He continues to send his reply to Arthur. 

“You know I don’t understand what you just said,” Chris reminds him. That’s why it came out in French, he thinks. Not everything is meant to be said. 

“I said,” he pauses, sends the text, looks back at her. God. “I said I want to kiss you.”

She crosses one leg over the other, looks down at her pants like there is something in her lap to fix. He can see the blush on the tips of her ears, even though she’s trying to hide her cheeks. When she does look up, face still flushed, she tucks her bangs behind her ears and replies softly, “you’re allowed to kiss me, Charles.”

He can’t believe he hasn’t yet. That he’d hugged the life out of her, kissed her hair and told her how happy he is she’s there, that he’d thought about kissing her for weeks, that he didn’t fucking kiss the girl yet. They’re sharing a bedroom tonight, and he still hasn’t kissed her. He thought about it, he did. But they’d promised to keep things as quiet as they could. Now, he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t have stopped him from throwing all those conversations out the window. 

If there wasn’t something weird in the air before, there certainly is now. A new weird. A good weird. An implication of something in the air, weird. It’s out there now, ust hanging above them. I want to kiss you. You can kiss me. Now all that’s left is for one of them to make the move. 

It’s the least he can do–make the first move. She flew across the globe, he can fucking kiss her. He wants to fucking kiss her. He feels like a little kid, the giddy smile that pulls on the corners of his lips when he walks over to her. He does little to conceal his intent.

“What?” She asks with a smile on her face. A tease, she has to know. 

He holds out his hands, palms forward to her and she follows his lead, reaches up to lace their fingers together. “I like you, you know?” He asks, leans his weight against her hands. Some hands are just meant to be held. 

She giggles like a child, pure and innocent and like nothing bad has ever happened to her. Like the childhood dog and all four grandparents are still kicking. “I can’t hold you up.”

“What?” He quirks a brow, leans more weight onto her hands and she laughs harder, her arms shaking below him. 

“Charles!”

“I said I like you, Chris!”

Through weak arms and uncontrollable belly laughs, she manages to choke out in gulps for air, “I like you, too.” In a swift movement, he recenters his weight on his own feet, pulling Chris up from the couch. The force of his pull almost knocks her from her feet, both of them still laughing, fingers dancing with the others on either side of their frames. The laughter is light and airy and barely there, but it’s laughter nonetheless. When their hands do fall apart, their pinkies stay looped together without force, without any pull at all, just comfortably slotted against the other. “I really like you,” she adds, and her voice sounds like smiles look. 

She blushes under her own words, over the entirety of their private moment, eyes darting from eyes to lips and back to eyes. “Yeah?” He asks quietly, like he’s scared asking might change her answer. She nods, biting down on the smile that paints her bottom lip, and it’s more than enough for him. She’s so good. She’s too good not to kiss. 

He moves a hand to her jaw, thumbs her cheek with fingers slotted behind her ear, dancing along her hairline like a whisper of what’s to come. Like a promise. In the absence of his hand, hers finds his chest, just his thin Ferrari shirt separating her palm from the butterflies stirring wildly in his chest. “Me, too,” he says softly. Softer than she did, more to her lips—soft and pretty and his favorite shade of pink—than to her eyes. And then, either so softly only the atoms hear it, or maybe in his head entirely, “very much.”

And then he kisses her. 

She tastes like mint chapstick and biscoff cookies and coffee. Her lips are soft, softer than they looked, softer than her voice. It’s like a boost of energy, kissing her. Like an immediate and complete charge. 

She tightens her grip on his other pinky. Tightens it, loosens it, re-intertwines the whole hand somewhere off in the distance, far, far away from where he wishes to stay forever. This alone is worth a flight anywhere. Altitude sickness and limbs falling asleep and jet lag and headaches from screaming babies are all poor inhibitors when this would be waiting for him on the other side. 

He pulls his hand from hers because it's just not close enough. Nothing is going to be close enough, but he’ll try his damndest to cup her jaw and pull her deeper into the kiss. Their noses bump awkwardly and they pull apart in a breathless laugh. Nothing more than a quick, shared smile and he’s kissing it off her face, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth and letting her hum mumbles into his mouth. Teeth clacking and more laughing, so breathless it’s practically silent. 

“Chris Elliott,” he says all sing-songy, just because he knows it’ll make her laugh. A quick peck, because he can. “You are something.”

“Charles Leclerc,” she mimics, wide eyes and raised brows and a beaming smile. A quick peck, because he’s never going to stop her. “Something good?”

He hums. “Something great.”

“You’re silly,” she says, and he laughs. 

“Silly?” She nods. “You’re cute.” Chris rolls her eyes, but still has that child’s smile on her face and a pink flush to her cheeks. He kisses her again, quick, because he has a month to make up for. 

“I know,” she retorts, deadpan. He laughs louder than any sane man should. 

Joris, Arthur, and Andrea file into the room a few minutes later. Chris is leaning against the wall again, scrolling through her phone. She clicks it off when they walk in, shoves it deep into her purse pocket. 

Andrea’s eyes bounce from Chris to Charles, and then back to Chris, holding out a hand for her to shake. “Andrea,” he greets, formal and cool. 

“Chris,” she smiles, shakes the outstretched hand. 

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “You too.”

First bad impression. She doesn’t know what it is she did, but with the simple half-minute observation of his interactions with her versus the rest of the people in the room, it’s obvious he’s already soured on her. 

Arthur, though, Arthur is almost off putting in his resemblance to Charles. Same voice, same face, certainly same bloodline. She thinks she could recognize him anywhere, probably. He, however, on his phone, doesn’t even notice Chris’ presence in the room until Joris elbows him on the sofa. 

“Quoi?!” He exclaims in a defensive tone that transcends language barriers. The kind that only brothers know how to use. 

“Hi,” Chris says, and Arthur’s head shoots from Joris to her in the doorway. He almost laughs, he’s so surprised by her presence. “I’m Chris,” she adds, holding out a hand only because he's sitting and she’s standing and a hug doesn’t feel logistically sound. 

“Ah, Chris,” Arthur nods, shakes her hand. “Charles does not answer my phone calls because of you.”

“Oh,” she offers a weak smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No, no. I do not want to hear from him.”

Chris laughs. From the other side of the room, Charles chimes in, “then why are you calling me?”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Maman say, ‘do you call Charles’ and I say ‘yes he does not answer me.’”

- - -

They run into Carlos and co. on the way to the sponsorship event. Chris tries to hang back towards the end of the group, back with Joris and Arthur and away from Charles, purely out of self preservation. They’d agreed in passing that everything would be much easier, hundreds of times simpler, if nobody knew Chris was there this weekend, if everything was kept under the radar. Charles, however, seems to have forgotten that agreement because, no matter how engaged he gets into a conversation, he is constantly looking for her in the group, reaching his hand out to her if she’s within distance to do so, keeping her as close to him as he can. 

She keeps falling back though, falling into ranks. She doesn’t want to look like a girlfriend, because she isn’t. 

Chris has no idea how to be a public… girl? A fling or a girlfriend or anything in between. She’s at home at a race track, yes, and during Chase’s championship winning season, she got stopped three times to take pictures with fans, but, really. Nobody has ever cared about what she’s doing or who she’s doing it with. 

Walking in behind Carlos and Charles is like walking in behind celebrities. Everyone wants to shake their hands, to pat them on the shoulders and tell them this thing or another. There’s lots of languages being thrown around that she doesn’t recognize, accents she struggles to understand. 

“This is crazy,” she says quietly, just to herself. 

Arthur nudges her with his elbow to steal her attention, furrows his brows for a moment and holds up a quizzical thumbs up. Chris nods, smiles gratefully. 

Charles promised that it was going to be nothing more than a quick stop at the event, and he meant it. They aren’t even there long enough to sit down. Instead they hang out in the back of the tent near the bar, watching Charles and Carlos talk on stage with several different people about how important this brand is for us.  

They decide to go out to dinner after, despite Chris’ burning desire to go to sleep for a couple years. They get sat at a booth that’s probably made to hold no more than four people; Andrea and Joris on one side, Charles sandwiched between Chris and Arthur on either side. He finds her hand under the table, his thumb tracing along the lines of her fingers. Chris, against all urges to rest her head on his shoulder, rests it instead on the wooden divider between their booth and the neighboring one. 

Arthur is the only one who struggles to speak English rather than his mother tongue, and while Charles corrects him each time, Chris doesn’t dare. She’d rather die than imply someone speaking in a second language needs to improve the way they speak it. 

“Are you going to be with us all weekend?” Arthur asks around Charles’ frame. 

“I’m actually going to be in the grandstands,” she smiles. Charles rolls his eyes. 

“Oh?” Arthur asks, looks to his brother, but Joris beats him to the punch. 

“You couldn’t get her a pass for the whole weekend?” Joris chirps. Andrea laughs and Charles reaches for the pass hung around her neck. She didn’t even realize she was the only person still wearing it until now. Charles flips the pass over, points out the FULL WEEKEND on the back. 

“Her choice, not mine.”

She reaches to take the pass out of his hand, to pull it off over her head and put it into her purse. “I’m hoping for a drama-free weekend,” she says, and the boys laugh. Charles’ hand finds her thigh, gives it a little pat and a comfortable squeeze. 

Her hands are meant to be held, they really are. He could hold her hand until the moment she leaves, fingers locked together as they walk through the hotel corridor, empty and echoey with their voices and the sound of their feet on the carpet runner. 

Once in the room, face to face together with the single bed, they both burst into laughter. He’s glad he cleaned things up before she got here, because the room was starting to look a little like his driver’s room–clothes strewn about messily, plastic water bottles on the end table, a television remote he lost the night he got here and hadn’t found until this morning. In the corner, Chris’ luggage sits beside the armchair, backpack neatly stacked with a single suitcase. 

“Did you bring your whole wardrobe?” He jokes, and maybe it’s because he’s never been great at conveying jokes in English, or maybe it’s that they’re both absolutely exhausted, but the joke doesn't land. She’s immediately apologizing, spewing out a jumbled apology about I didn’t know what I was supposed to wear, and then– “I’m messing with you,” he says, and hates that she thinks he’d be that worked up over a suitcase, especially when he’d brought at least double what she had. She could have shown up with twenty suitcases and he still wouldn’t have thought it was too much because, well, she’s here. Right in front of him. 

“Oh,” she pouts, and he kisses the look off her face. He’s wanted to do that since he saw it for the first time. “Oh. I like when you do that.” Good, he thinks. Get used to it. 

They both make plans to shower; her before him. He’s on the couch in the living area of the suite when she re-emerges from the bathroom, the TV rolling and absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. When the sliding door to the bathroom opens, he looks up to watch her. 

Her hair long down her back, carefully combed out so that the soaking ends turn the fabric of her sun-worn blue t-shirt a darker shade. It’s big on her–the shirt–hangs almost long enough that you wouldn’t be able to spot the flannel shorts underneath. He can still hear the sink running in the bathroom and she’s got a toothbrush in her mouth. 

He whistles when she walks back from the bedroom towards the bathroom again, and she stops in the doorway, laughs around the toothbrush and does a sweet spin. “Bellissimo,” he says, gestures a chef’s kiss and she bows dramatically. 

After his shower, he finds her in the bedroom, comfortably perched against the headboard, tucked under the crisp white duvet. The only light in the place is coming from her end table lamp, casting a soft shadow on her face, her knees pulled up close while she turns the pages of a book. He hovers around his suitcase watching her, completely in her own world, the only hint of her presence on this plane being the subtle lean into the light to better illuminate the pages she turns. 

It’s not the first time he’s found himself looking at her like this. She’s easy to get lost in and almost never notices him staring. She just gets so focused on the task at hand–grading papers, cooking a meal, painting her nails, watching a television show, or like tonight, reading her current library rental. 

“Do you want a water?” He asks. Her eyes don’t leave the page, a subtle shake of the head before she finally mumbles a no, thank you. He navigates the dark suite to the kitchenette, finds himself a plastic water bottle in the mini-fridge, and then he’s pulling back the comforter to climb into bed with her. “So, I was thinking tomorrow–” he starts, but she cuts him off with a singular finger held in the air. He can’t help but laugh, stupid smile on his face while he watches her eyes hurriedly finish the page, dog ear the tiniest fold onto the corner. 

“Sorry,” she unapologetically offers, setting the book down on the end table. “What were you saying?”

“Uh, I don’t remember,” he says, because he lost it while he tried to guess what she was reading based on the little microexpressions that crossed her face. His eyes fall to the gold chain around her neck, to the small cross that lays over the blue fabric of her shirt. He’s noticed it dozens of times, it’s constant presence in every picture, every video, every call and outfit and event. He doesn’t even think when he reaches for it, examines it with gentle fingers. “Is this a, uh…” he struggles to find the word, “how do you say, family tradition?”

“Heirloom?”

He nods, drops the piece of jewelry back to its rightful spot. “Heirloom.”

“No, it was a birthday gift,” she explains, fingers the chain of it, “from my brother when I turned eighteen.”

He nods, points out the other necklace she’s wearing, a flower with a pearl in the center. “And this?”

She laughs, “it’s silly,” she says. “It goes with these earrings I have, they’re from my parents when I graduated college.” He learns the flower is a chrysanthemum, that her dad has always called her Mum, that her mom has a particular affinity for pearls that she’s passed onto Chris, that all of these things have combined into this piece of jewelry hanging around her neck and that she cried and cried when they gifted it to her. 

Because the sun is still burning, he doesn’t stop asking about the different pieces she wears until he’s run out of ones to point to. He learns the story of a ruby ring–her birthstone–that she found in a thrift store for seventy-five cents when she was fifteen, how it used to fit on her pointer finger but now it fits her ring finger, how sometimes she makes up elaborate stories of how it ended up in the bargain bin of a Goodwill in North Georgia. 

She tells him about three friendship bracelets. The first and second are made by students, her favorite gifts. The third, blue and yellow–NAPA colors, her brother’s racing colors–made by her nephew. “He’s four, and he is everything annoying about my brother and everything good about my best friend, and I think I would kill someone for him.” Charles is sure that tomorrow he’ll be telling someone they wouldn’t believe the way she lights up when she talks about this kid. 

When he’s run out of things to question, she’s examining the red string tied around his wrist. “What about you?” She asks, “what’s up with this guy?”

“My mate, Pierre. He learns about it from our other friend Yuki,” He explains. “They always know the strangest things, Pierre and Yuki,” he chuckles, continues to explain the traditional symbol of good luck. “I don’t know how well it works, though,” he laughs, and she kisses him. It surprises him, but he’s in no place to complain. Perhaps the bracelet works quite well, he thinks when she moves closer, snuggles under his arm while he continues. 

Three metal bracelets. One red, one silver, one stainless steel. Morse code: Amour, Bonheur, Smile. A ring that matches the bracelet. Two hex rings that track his heart rate and his sleep and a million other things.

He spins the rings while he talks, pulls them off and hands one to her without missing a beat in his sentence. She toys with it while she listens, hands it back to him with a quiet yawn. When he kisses her hair, it’s still damp and smells like the shampoo she used, something he can’t place, something he hopes eventually to memorize. “You’re cute when you’re sleepy.”

“You told me that last week.”

“I know,” another kiss against the unfamiliar scent. “I meant it.”

Charles wants to order room service for breakfast. Chris shuts that idea down the minute it comes out of his mouth, furrowing her brows and making him attempt to rationalize waiting half an hour for food that’s five minutes away. He can’t, so they head to the lobby. 

Chris is wearing the same shirt, pulls a pair of sweatpants over her flannel shorts and ties her hair into a messy, tangled ponytail. She’d keep it down, but her hair dried while she slept and it’s pointing in directions that defy gravity. A ponytail was the only option. Charles doesn’t change, keeps the t-shirt and shorts he slept in on. 

They find Andrea in the lobby, eating at a table for two by himself. Charles pulls a chair over from a nearby table and they sit down with him. By the time Joris appears, the table is officially too full of food to comfortably function. 

She hears his phone vibrate against the hard plastic of his chair, and he casually mentions that the rest of his family is on their way down. 

Chris doesn’t react, not externally, anyways. She finishes what’s left in her mug, bee-lines it over to the coffee bar to make another. Absent-mindedly, she tears the foil from the creamer cups, rips open the sugar packets and stirs it all together. His mom. His mom. His mom. It’s all she can think about. His mother. The woman who gave him life. Chris knew she’d be meeting his mom this weekend, but she figured she’d have more preparation than a couple minutes warning, assumed she’d be dressed, hair styled, makeup done. That she’d be presenting herself as someone you’d be happy to have your son spend time with, not like a  7/11 customer in Dahlonega at one in the morning. Maybe Charles was right and room service was a good idea. 

Even once she’s back at the table, every elevator ding makes her jump, shoots her head in the direction of the opening doors just terrified the people walking out are going to be his family. 

“Are you good?” Charles asks after she flinches at the third elevator bell. 

“Yup,” she lies, slaps a big, phony smile on her face and takes a sip of her coffee. His hand finds her leg, gives it a little you’ll be fine squeeze. 

The next elevator is carrying his family. She instinctively straightens in her seat, moves things around the crowded table so her food looks neat and managed. Joris looks at her with concern, Charles laughs when she refolds a napkin. “Don’t laugh at me,” she whispers. 

Out of earshot, Arthur says something through a stretch and a yawn. His mom rolls her eyes, pushes him in the direction of the coffee bar, mutters something to his other brother that makes him chuckle. When his mom spots Chris, she makes a bee-line for her with open arms. Chris practically trips over the leg of her chair trying to stand up before the hug reaches her. 

“Come here, chérie,” she smiles. It’s warm, just like her boy’s. “I have heard so much about you.” Oh? Chris smiles, suddenly aware that she’s apparently horribly unprepared for this entire introduction. He’s telling his mother about her? 

She hugs Pascale back and looks over her shoulder to Charles with wide eyes. She’s met with a matching expression, Charles shrugging and shaking his head as if to adamantly tell her he has no idea what his mom is talking about. “And what have you heard, Maman?” He asks with a laugh. 

“Don’t start with me,” she says, wagging a finger at her boy, and then to Chris, “Ignore him.” She holds her at arm's length, hands on either shoulder and looks her up and down. Chris laughs, nervous but still noticeably genuine. “You are just beautiful, aren’t you?”

Well. Beautiful isn’t a word Chris would use to describe herself at this moment. Ratty, perhaps. Disheveled. Off-putting. But sure, beautiful is a word she might sometimes describe herself as. “Me?” She shakes her head, “ma’am, look at yourself.”

“Oh, please,” his mom scoffs. “Pascale.”

“Pascale.” Chris smiles, goes in for another hug.

Whether it’s because he’s a brother and not a mother, or because meeting said mother is done and over with, Chris is significantly less anxious when it comes to her introduction with Lorenzo. 

Chris attempts to insist Pascale take her seat, but is out-insisted to finish her breakfast. Charles finds her hand under the table, winks at her when she interlocks her fingers with his. 

– – – 

Outside of their shared breakfast, Saturday is a long day apart for Chris and Charles. A quick kiss goodbye in their hotel room when Charles finishes getting ready, a quicker “good luck,” from Chris called after him on his way out the door, and a thumbs up over his head as a response summarizes their interactions for the rest of the day. 

Chris works on next week’s lesson plans for a few hours, nothing better to do while she waits to leave for the track. 

She watches the third practice session and quali from the grandstand across from the pitlane, and while neither are his greatest showing, Chris can feel it in her bones that everything is going to fall into place for him tomorrow. A third place start is more than good enough to beat out Perez at Red Bull. She knows it like she knows her own name, and nobody is going to tell her otherwise. 

She goes back to the hotel after quali, doesn’t bother to attempt sneaking into the paddock to try and find him. It just doesn’t feel worth it–navigating a place she doesn’t know, avoiding the cameras and the reporters and the chaos–not when he’ll be coming back to the hotel, back to her. 

She falls asleep moments after sitting down on the couch, and isn’t woken up until she doesn’t even know when. It’s the middle of the night, Charles tells her, guides her to bed and tucks her in like a child, complete with a kiss on the forehead. 

- - -

The first words out of her mouth on Sunday morning are an apology. 

When Charles tries to cut her off with a laugh and a kiss, she stops him just short of her lips, claiming morning breath. “Wow,” he feigns shock. “First you fall asleep on me, now you will not kiss me?”

She rolls her eyes, grabs the back of his neck and pulls him down to kiss her. “Happy?”

He nods and kisses her again. He keeps waiting for it to not feel so exciting, so much like a stupid movie, so young, and it’s yet to reach that point. It’s not even coming close. “Yes, thank you.”

From the other side of the bathroom wall she dares to ask him if he’s nervous, if the pressure is finally manifesting itself into stress. He’s quiet for a while. 

“No,” he eventually calls back.

“No?”

He peels around the doorway, messing with the collar on his team shirt. “Yes,” he admits with a scale-breaking sigh. She wishes he was as sure as himself as she is, that he could feel in his bones it is all going to work out perfectly. 

“Well, I’ll be here when you’re done, and we can either celebrate Charles Leclerc, Vice World Champion,” he turns away at the title, the side profile of a smile turning the corner back into the bathroom. “Or, we can celebrate the end of an exhausting season. Either way, we’re celebrating.” He stays quiet. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he finally speaks, tone lackluster, unconfident. It’s hard to hear him like this, to hear the distinct shards of doubt that rattle in his chest. “We’re celebrating.”

We’re celebrating. Tonight is a celebration. The positives with the negatives, the good always outweighs the bad. She reminds herself like it’s a mantra. Tonight is a celebration. 

- - -

Alone in the grandstands with an air of certainty about her, Chris’ bar for friendship has never been lower. She finds a group of girlfriends who appear to be sort-of, almost, kind-of, maybe in the same age demographic as she is. They speak English and don’t ignore her when she talks, and that’s enough for her to latch onto for the evening. 

We like McLaren, they tell her, But those Ferrari boys–they’re cute. You can’t help but feel for them. Chris just smiles and nods, offers up a laugh and pretends she won’t be falling asleep next to one of those cute boys later tonight. 

The girls–flew in from London on Friday just for this-fill her in on everything she already knows. They tell her about Charles and his fight for P2, about the strategic pitfalls of Ferrari and the fact that on paper, it was Charles’ year to win it all. 

They’re more nervous during the race than Chris is, not to say that her leg isn’t bouncing watching the times constantly changing, that she isn’t whispering mumbles prayers into the air between here and there, just that she knows. She knows. 

If it was possible to stare through a helmet, Chris would’ve done it during his pitstop, burning the confidence right into his frontal lobe. Her eyes are glued to his car, his helmet, distant and small and buzzing with energy. He’s got it under control, like a perfectly wrapped gift sat in his lap, like a row of monkey bars and hands hardened by months of blisters, like a first kiss and a second kiss and a third kiss. He’s got it under control.

He does, because after what feels simultaneously like the longest and shortest fifty-eight laps of her life, Chris practically has a front row seat to Charles doing donuts. She’s so happy that she thinks she might cry, not that it takes much of anything to pull a tear from her when she’s this exhausted. The girls she’d befriended jump and celebrate and cheer louder than the fireworks. 

Chris tries to live the moment. To feel it all, the energy and the roar and the joy, which only makes it that much harder not to cry. 

Suddenly, momentarily, irrationally emotionally, while she watches him celebrate with his family and his team in front of the whole world she wishes she was down there with him. Screw the world watching, she wants to hug him until her arms are numb and kiss him until she passes out.

There’s no telling when–or even if–she’s going to ever live through a moment like this again. It’s not one she wants to forget. In the chaos of it all, her hand finds her chest, the hard metal of her cross necklace through the fabric of her top, the pulsing of her heartbeat, loud and racing. 

It’s hours before he’s back to the hotel, but it doesn’t feel late at all. He’s still running on adrenaline, just as ready to celebrate as he was when he jumped into his team’s arms. Over the mechanical shifting of the door lock, he can hear Chris’ feet echoing on the floor just on the other side and before he can even make it through the doorway she’s crashing into him. The pure energy that she is knocks him back a few steps, but then he’s hugging her back just as hard, maybe harder. 

He can feel her tears soak through his shirt, and with a laugh asks if she’s crying. 

“Shut up,” she says, and it only makes him laugh harder, hug tighter. God, the show he would have put on if he could’ve found her right after the race. The trouble he would make. “Oh, my god!” She sniffles, pulls her head off his chest and wipes away her tears. “Kiss me, already!”

And so he does. He kisses the shit out of her. 

She pulls away with a smile, arms slinked around his neck like it belongs to her. “So, how does it feel?” She asks, “Vice World Champion, Charles Leclerc.”

He gives her a quick kiss, nothing more than a peck, shrugs, and repeats the action. “Too busy kissing the girl.”

“You’re such an idiot,” she laughs, drops her head so it’s against his chest and vibrates his entire being. It’s a laugh that lights stars, dances around the room like a windchime in the warm August air. The kind so distinct you could hear it across a room ten years later and still know it was her. “A walking cheeseball.”

“A cheeseball?” He humors. 

“I said what I said.”

His satisfied hum says more than words ever could, fingers comfortable dancing along the bone of her hip. “We gotta get ready,” he says. 

“For what?”

“The celebration.”

last chapter masterlist next chapter

#ma&thbp #ma&thbp propaganda #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #cl16 #cameos from #pierre gasly #joris trouche #andrea ferrari #pascale leclerc #lorenzo leclerc #arthur leclerc #Carlos Sainz #who's name always auto capitalizes #f1 #f1 blurb #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 2023 #f1 rpf #get fucked #charles leclerc x oc #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x you

[mikoyamisheadcanonblog]

Hi yes! I was wondering if you could write something about Yandere Sabo realizing their loved on is also Yandere?

I am so so sorry I am late. I took forever to answer as things got so busy but please enjoy I hope I did a great job.

Sabo was watching his lover as they were humming to themselves as they walked around the base, they seemed a bit distracted more than usual and seemed unaware of Sabo’s presence.  He tilted his head curious if it was the man at the food stand who had been flirting with his lover all week asking for their number or the young female who always got too close to his lover when standing in line and acted like a couple.

Either way, he took care of both problems. He hated how they touched his lover, how they didn’t understand his lover was taken already and was not to be touched. He already granted his lover freedom to wander around without his watchful eyes, but this continued he would have his lover caged and trapped where only he could see their beautiful/handsome face.

His eyes narrowed but he could feel a bit excited seeing his lover trapped behind a cage forever his. He had to swallow that excitement down, he had hidden this twisted side from his lover. He didn’t want to scare them away; they weren’t ready to see the twisted side of him.

 The side that smiled and found great enjoyment in torturing the assholes that dared look at his lover, dared spoke to them. He burned the man's eyes hearing the high-pitched scream, grabbing his tongue, and burning that off too. So, he wouldn’t dare talk or speak to his lover. He found enjoyment in watching the man stumble back to the village, he couldn’t see or speak. Knowing the man got justice punished.

He called his lover’s name trying to get their attention while they fixed the flowers in the face cutting the heads of the buds before turning their attention to Sabo and tilting their head. “hmm,” they said chopping off one of the fully bloomed flowers heads off. “Is everything okay?” they asked Sabo.

“I am worried about you,” he ran his fingers on their shoulder holding them close to him.

“I am fine,” they answered holding the clippers, before turning to Sabo and wrapping their arms around his neck. “By the way Sabo,” there was a look he was unfamiliar in their eyes. No…it was a look he was familiar with, a look he had when he saw someone chatting with his lover who shouldn’t be. “What were you talking about to the cute little bartender that made you laugh?” his lover moved the clips to his neck.

Sabo blinked surprised, there was a sense of threat emanating out of his lover. Danger. He tilted his head cutely, his blond bangs brushing over his burn scar as he looked as innocent as possible. The barmaid had flirted with him when went to celebrate with his lover after they completed a mission together. She had given them a drink for free and he took that chance to enjoy.

“She offered me free drinks,” he said.  As he stared at the threatening look his lover pressed the sheers closer to his neck having him bleed a little.

“Is that all?” his lover questioned. “If see you laugh with some one else again I am will be cutting their heads off and will be locked up,”

Sabo couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at the new discovery he learned, “it seems my lover is just as crazy as me,” he said as he gave a maniacal grin. “I have the same request of you,” he said whispering his lover's name in their ear before putting them close

#sabo op #one piece sabo #sabo one piece #revolutionary sabo #sabo x reader #sabo x you #sabo x y/n #yandere sabo

[enderpearlll]

Yandere Bob Velseb headcanons.

TW/CW: Cannibalism, yandere content, stalking, murder, blood, biting, sadism, etc…

A/N: I am a simp for unhinged chubby men

• With a disheveled appearance and a maniacal grin, Bob can scare the daylights out of anyone in a five mile radius. (well, unless you’re one of two odd kids named Skid and Pump) He will gladly butcher someone with no remorse, but for some reason you bring out something in him that’s more primal and possessive. Something that he loves to indulge in more than he would like.

• Bob will murder anyone who tries to get close to you; he won’t even bother eating them either. He thinks they are human scum, and he isn’t a big fan of cheap meat. Unworthy of you and his next meal, he’ll probably dump the body somewhere like a dumpster where they belong.

• Bob also thinks it’s the most romantic thing in the world to bring you human organs like hearts. He’ll preserve them in strong chemicals and wrap a blood red bow around the rim and leave it on your doorstep. Bob swoons when you finally find it, and relishes in the horrified scream you make. He even cleans a few bones to leave scattered across your house. Isn’t that sweet.

• He loves to get a reaction out of you, whether it be positive or negative. Bob’ll scare you, threaten you, or even say something completely out of pocket that it catches you off guard and he loves it. Not that he’d actually do it though, right?

• Stalks you like crazy. He’s on the more older side so he isn’t good with technology, so he prefers to do it the “old-fashioned” way as Bob calls it. Hides in your trees, shrubs, closets, etc… Bob steals a lot of your personal belongings as well. Has a literal room dedicated to you.

• He’s a great chef and enjoys making food for you. Bob would leave home cooked meals on your counter after a long day, which was terrifying because you lived alone. And you definitely didn’t make any burgers for lunch earlier that day.

• Bob has a thing with biting. Like, if you actually have the guts to get involved with this man he will always leave some sort of mark on you. And oh boy, if you like a possessive partner than he’s the one for you.

• Will leave ungodly amounts of love bites and literal bites on you wherever flesh is exposed. It’s always a surprise because you could be doing anything and Bob will suddenly appear then he sinks his teeth into you. It’s deep enough to cause bruising and a bit of bleeding, to which he’s eager to lap up with his tongue.

• He loves being close to you in anyway, but he loves being rough. Bob’ll squeeze you until you’re short of breath, dig his nails into your cheeks, press slobbery kisses into the crook of your neck, etc… He enjoys the pain on your face as much as he enjoys making you smile.

• Bob has a eerie fascination with whatever you do, whether it be sitting down and reading a book or doing chores, he will be watching. Even if you aren’t aware. He finds everything you do adorably endearing. Eventually he would butt in to grab your attention, completely disregarding anything you were doing before.

• He’s oddly comfortable to lie on, and you even asked to sleep on top of him one night. Bob said yes immediately of course, and when you flopped on top of him he melted. You were like a weighted blanket, warm and cozy. The man is very insistent on sleeping with you in that position now, and will get grumpy if you accidentally roll off or decline. Bob simply rolls over and plops you back onto him.

• Bob can fill an entire page with all of the pet names he calls you, and will rarely use your actual name. He likes to tease you with his voice, often bending down to your height and whispering your favourite pet name in your ear. He feels you flush red hot underneath him and he bursts out laughing.

• Now, just because he’s a sweetheart on the surface doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have more darker urges. Bob will often threaten you if you try to leave the house, pointing a knife to your neck and smiling impossibly wide. He’s properly secured the house to insure you wouldn’t leave him. If you mention any of your friends and family do not eat anything he gives you in the next week.

• Thinks that you getting angry or upset is entertaining. You can try getting underneath this man’s skin all you want, he’ll simply shut you up with a thinly veiled threat. At the very least, it’s a game to him. To see who breaks first. And by the looks of it, you look like you’re losing. There isn’t much time until you completely surrender to him.

• Overall, Bob is unhinged and unhindered by morals. He will gladly chop off your limbs or two to have a taste of your sweet flesh. He thinks it’s a form of intimacy, your sugary skin sliding down his throat. You scream and cry in pain but he pays no mind, completely lost in your flavour.

• If you deny his affections or inevitably grow fearful of him, Bob will rejoice in the chase that pursues. He always loved working hard for what he deserves.

#yandere blog #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere fic #yandere spooky month #spooky month #spooky month x reader #yandere writing #bob velseb #yandere bob velseb #bob velseb x reader #yandere x you

[corpsebasil]

im thinking. WAIT LET ME COOK—

you guys remember the scene where he puts her shoe back on in knight Nikolai? yeah lemme just—

that’s he and I btw

OKAY—

You were laughing, spinning like a maniac with your ladies at a village festival. It was common knowledge that you loved spending time with your people—your genuine citizens and common folk—and they loved you for it. So you were dancing a series of steps that sent you into chaotic circles when you’d stumbled, the toe of your shoe catching on the cobblestones and tugging the whole thing off.

You gasped and would’ve fell if it weren’t for the arms that wrapped around you, keeping you upright against a firm chest. You hadn’t even realized Sir Nikolai was so close, let alone so prepared to catch you if you fell. You laughed and let him steady you, his form moving in front of yours to face you.

“Thanks.” You giggled, head still reeling with a tinge of dizziness. “These damn shoes, they always—“

But you froze when he knelt in front of you, taking your ankle in his gloved hand. Even through the fabric of his gloves you could feel a tinge of warmth, the rough texture sending goosebumps across your skin. He didn’t speak, only kept your leg in his grasp as he pushed the slipper back onto your foot, his breath soft and warm against your calf.

Then he stopped. His fingers seemed to tighten on you, his hand sliding an inch or two higher up your leg, the movement placing his hand just under the hem of your dress. Your breath caught and his jaw tightened, his eyes moving to yours.

“Thank you.” You murmured, holding eye-contact even as your stomach tossed and turned, his thumb moving in slow movements, back and forth, over your skin.

“Of course, my lady.” He whispered back, voice almost inaudible as he held your gaze.

The both of you seemed to inhale at the same time when one of your ladies dashed over, looping her arm through yours.

“Come on!” She giggled, tugging at you. She was only fourteen—young for a hand-maiden, but not unheard of—and consistently energetic. “This next dance is my favorite!”

You shared a quick grin with Nikolai—still knelt—but your heart was beating rapidly in your chest and his fingers were holding onto your leg like it was his lifeline.

“I’ll dance only with you for the rest of the night, little one,” you started, eyes locking onto his. “but after this dance. I think I need a break.”

“Sure.” She replied instantly, dashing off to join the other ladies in a circle of twirling.

You and Sir Nikolai stared at one other, a corner of his mouth rising with a hint of a smile.

“Are you still in need of assistance, my lady?” He asked, and fuck if the brush of his thumb running in an arc over your knee didn’t make you feel slightly crazy. And desperate. And— “My lady?”

“Yes.” You let out, then swallowed. “I mean, no. I’m fine. Thank you.”

He stood and, to your mind, possibly reluctantly, let go of your leg. When he was at his full height he was a bit too close for what was socially acceptable but you didn’t care.

“Thank you.” You whispered again, peering up at him as he brushed off his trousers and towered in front of you. Saints, the man was tall.

He shook his head once and smiled softly, reaching out to touch a piece of your hair that had fallen over your shoulder. You felt shockingly effected as he looped the strand around his finger, his blue eyes moving to yours.

“Thank you, princess.” He said, nodding his head once before he let you go, disappearing into the crowd.

It took a while for you to join the dances again.

OANAOANSKS STOP I CANT DO TBIS ANYMORE I NEED HIM BIBLICALLY

#shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #wattpad #nikolai x reader #shadow and bone imagine #fluff #knight nikolai #knight nikolai lantsov

[is-on-its-way]

Dana Katherine Scully is a horse girl

A thesis...

The xf fandom has a general consensus Fox Mulder is a bit crazy. A maniac is how its been described. A lesser discussed idea is that although Fox Mulder is completely unhinged in such a pure BDE, knows the norms of society and doesn't give any shits kind of way, Dana Scully is also not quite completely "typical". She just looks very sane comparatively when next to her partner.

Placed in any other situation or with regular FBI partners, she's kind of a weirdo too. For me, she effervesces horse girl energy. Good, funny, weird, horse girl energy.

What is horse girl energy? You might ask. I found an excellent summation in a lovely article on Mashable.

Big dick energy and horse girl energy are innately opposite vibes -- if big dick energy is chaotic good, horse girl energy is lawful neutral. If you have big dick energy, you're probably kind of weird because you don't give a shit about what people think of you -- you set the social norms. If you have horse girl energy, you're probably kind of weird because you're blissfully unaware of social norms.

I could probably write an essay about Mulder's BDE didn't fully evolve until he met Scully and she believed in him. All others opinions of him fell away and he wasn't so bothered by everyone calling him spooky anymore. But for right now, this is about Scully.

I am obviously not talking about cliche horse girl attributes. That they talk about nothing but horses, they wear their riding pants or boots outside of the barn or anything overtly obvious.

Im talking about pure personality and vibes.

Im talking about the cool girl essence. The eccentricity and the slight obliviousness to social etiquette. The way they can be confident and serious without worrying if they're offending anyone. The way they can be completely standoffish until someone makes their way past that barrier and then they are the kindest warmest people you know. The headstrong way about them. Of the fact they, having dealt with 2000 pound animals since they were basically toddlers, take no shit from anyone, especially men. And yes, perhaps are a little bit crazy too.

So maybe her parents let her muck out stalls in exchange for riding privileges at the local barn in Annapolis or something as a kid but yeah, thats my canon and Im sticking to it.

Anyway Mulder and Scully were made for each other. La di da.

Bonus picture of GA being a literal horse girl with very good form. lol

#dana scully is a horse girl #dana scully #msr #fox mulder is a maniac #txf #the x files #x files

[campbyler]

BHDSDNSJDBKSJDK S OMFG OMFG I GIGGLED LIKE A MANIAC LIKE THE WHOLE TIME I WAS READING HOLY SHIT AHHHHHHHHHH THEY ARE SUCH STUPID IN LOVE IDIOTS "yes youre obsessed with me" HOLY SHIT THE SASS OH MY GODDDDDD I WAS LIKE WHAT IS HAPPENING IS MIKE TAKING HIM ON A DATE HOLY SHIT AND THEN HE WAS BUT I DONT THINK WILL KNOWS IT WAS A DATE SBDSKNKJS THE COOL COOL MOMENT SDBSHD JS BSFHBSJDBS WILL LIKES HOW MIKE DRIVES OMFGG THEY LIKE HOLDING EACH OTHERS HANDS IM LITERALLY GONNA START SQUEALING okay mike is so real for his oshawatt pin on his fanny pack also ngl i kinda forgor that will works at starbucks but also like of course he does i feel like thats just a fact that everyone should know OMFGGG THEY ARE BOTH THE MOST CLINGY BITCHES EVER NHJSBUBHJWSBJ "engaging in behavior usually reserved for amusement park queues" HELP WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS TRYING NOT TO LAUGH OUT LOUD SO BADLY THAT I GOT LIGHTHEADED AND ALMOST FELL OUT OF MY BED I AM NOT FUCKING KIDDING I WAS OUT OF BREATH AND WHEEZING FOR LIKE FIVE MINUTES AND HAD TO TAKE A BREAK FROM READING NHJBSHBDKS THEY ARE SO FUCKING CLINGY OH MY GOD the vulnerablility 🥺🥺 they are being do soft with each other 🥺🥺 mike is finally opening up 🥺🥺🥺🥺 i love his car shopping list and his reasons 🥺🥺🥺🥺 also jesus FUCKING christ ted is fucking crazy that makes me so angry that he would do that and that it made such a lasting impact on mike that all those years later he would be worried about that happening to him its not okay OMFG OF COURSE HIS PASSWORD IS KERMIT HE IS SO SILLY NSDSHBDSB BESBDNSNDDNKJSNDB HES GONNA TEACH WILL HOW TO DRIVE HIS CAR OMFG OMFG OMFG THAT IS PROBABLY SO INTIMATE FOR HIM TOO BECAUSE THE CAR IS SUPPOSED TO BE HIS BECAUSE NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO DRIVE HIS CAR AND NOW HES TEACHING WILL HOW TO DRIVE HIS CAR JUST SBHSBDKSNDIJNSFS

you fr knocked this one out of the fucking park thea like full on grand slam, everyone made it to home and the ball went so far we couldnt even see where it landed i am very thankful that you guys take the time to write these chapters so well anyway happy holidays 🫶 (and merry july in christmas lmao)

AHHHH OMGGGGG SUCH A LENGTHY REACTION I HAVE BEEN SO BLESSED!! LET ME TRY TO RESPOND PROPERLY (picture me cracking my knuckles without cracking them ty)

i am loving this play by play of everything!! i do need u to know that this has been Exactly what my brain has been doing on overdrive since likeeeee. february or march when we first drafted the concept for ch9 😭😭😭 i loveeeeed including the detail of mike's fanny pack and it's def most of the reason why i really want to draw their outfits!! i think will's starbucks job has either only been mentioned once or has only been mentioned on this blog, but it's a very important part of the universe #2 #me 💚 ALSO HELLLOOO I HOPE YOU ARE ALIVE AND OK AFTER ALMOST FALLING OUT OF YOUR BED???

i will sayyyy the ted story was definitely a bit of projection teehee (thanks #mom) but i did think it fit superrr well and was a really strong reason for why owning the car would be so important to him! i was so excited to be able to have him open up this chapter as well :')

i did have to debate between using snoopy and kermit for mike's passcode but kermit won out!! also YESSSS U ARE HITTING THE NAIL ON THE HEAAADDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!

ty so so so MUCHHH for your kind words and huge reaction, i'm so glad you enjoyed!! happy holidays and merry christmas in july!!!

#asks #ch09 #acswy spoilers #i keep saying YOU'VE HEARD OF CHRISTMAS IN JULY NOW GET READY FOR JULY IN CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!!

[kindlykolorful]

Ask and ye shall recieve: MORE PIRATE AU BABY!!

-Cellbit has a golden spider on him at all times, rain or shine it is there; Earring? Custom made with a web-like chain attachment. Broach? Designed to fit his outfit of the day.

-Roier actively goes out of his way to hunt anyone that vaguely makes Cellbit uncomfortable; Too may sex jokes? Fed to several different animals. Flirting/getting touchy? Body parts put on pikes as your family watches.

-They are both fucking freaks(we love). Like, they will go out of their way to stare at you from across the resturant while eating just to fuck with you, befire going back to lounging in the chair like it was a sofa.

Yeeeeees, i totally see it! He keeps the golden spiders always polished and shiny despite not taking that good care of his other items. He doesn't like dangling acessories - like earrings - because it bothers him too much when he is solving maps or fighting, buuuut he wears them in social events (the ones they 99% of the time are there for stealing purposes shh).

2. He is hyper protective with Cellbit! I like to picture them a little too unhinged in this au. Quesadilla never happened here, so they met in that period after alcatraz/chafaland. This Roier still has a little of that c!Roier vibes so he get's the maniac type of agressive when people mess with him or his husband. He WILL do crazy stuff and nobody can stop him. Cellbit too has a little of f!Cell in him so he sees it as Roier being loving and caring, he does not contradict Roier's decisions no matter how absurd it seems.

"Qué chingados did you just say about mi gatinho?!"

3. I LOVE THAT OMG. Their crew is sooo done with them already, they arrive at places just wanting to relax and have a good time and then they turn around and see them ominously staring at strangers on the corners scaring them off. They often get kicked off places because they scare all the customers.

I've also have been writing some lore on their story, i'll bring it bit by bit with some arts soon!

#artists on tumblr #digital sketch #guapoduo #cellbit fanart #roier fanart #pirate au #kindly kolorful post #guapoduo pirate au

[blubun0309]

I will never shut up about how seriously downgraded Alastor got in the Prime show. He's just so much worse as a character compared to his pilot version it's genuinely upsetting.

Not sure if y'all remember, but Alastor was fucking unhinged in the pilot. Full on insane. That's why many of us loved him. He was crazy, no doubt, but he had so much charm to him. His charming nature but still crazy personality was what made him so intriguing to me. The voice filter, line delivery, and expressive animation, accompanied with the memorable (and quotable) lines, as well as his story and what he had done, are what made him Alastor, The Radio Demon. The crazy cannibal who had done such horrific stuff that even the princess of hell was uncomfortable with him, all while putting on a smile. The insane counterpart to Charlie's sweet nature. He was just straight up evil. Everything about him screamed DANGER, and it was fabulous. And his godamn smile. His smile that never ever wavered. His smile that expressed so so much, either for better or for worse. Ugh, chills, literal chills.

And then there's the new Alastor. Who has none of these qualities. He simply doesn't feel like a delusional cannibal who smiles at the horrors. He feels like a washed-up version of that. And, I love Amir, no hate towards him, but Alastor's new voice doesn’t feel as expressive or as bone-chilling as the pilot version. They try to make him intimidating, and yes, that one scene with Husk gave me shivers, but that's just one scene. Nothing about this version of Alastor feels like his pilot version. Sure, he can be a bit unhinged at times, and they clearly have more plans for him in the future of Hazbin, but it's all nothing compared to Pilot Alastor. If I'm being real, he feels more like a Tumblr sexyman attempt than an actual character. Only it completely erased all of what MADE him so attractive to begin with. He has edgy dialogue, some charm to him, and is pretty much morally grey through and through. That's it. It's not even remotely close to the level of pure insanity that the pilot Alastor had.

Pilot Alastor was evil, crazy, funny, a maniacal asshole who didn't care about anyone but himself and only wanted to help Charlie for the sake of his own amusement. Prime Show Alastor is just a poorly made Tumblr sexyman who completely forgot about what made Alastor so appealing to begin with. He feels like a shell of his former self.

Characters like Pilot Alastor are such an endlessly fascinating concept to me, and I'm just really sad that the Prime show fumbled such an easy bag. They had the foundation all laid out for them and failed in execution...

But I'm a Hazbin Hotel + Helluva Boss fan, so I'm used to important things falling ass over backwards like this.

#hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #these are just my thoughts #please don't hate me alastor fans #also I feel the need to say this but I don't hate Prime Alastor #I just don't like him as much as Pilot Alastor #The dude's funny sometimes and has some charm #but I still don't like where his character went #I like him just fine #but comparing him to the pilot #yeah he stood NO chance