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crash-bump-bring-the-whump · 1 year

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A Mariano POV for this super fun drabble by @brinkofdiscovery!! I've been so excited about this like y'all don't even know.

TWs: blood, violence, panic attacks, intimidation

If Mariano was upset at the mysterious robber about anything, it was the fear they'd caused everyone in the shop. The teenagers had been shaken up, Andrew was nervous to close at night, and Mariano couldn't even eat his lunch in the office anymore. No one wanted to. Not since "the party", as they'd taken to calling it. There was still a faint stain on the carpet where Mariano had collapsed that no one liked to step on, much less eat next to.

So Mariano had done the logical thing. He'd gone to a thrift store, and bought a rainbow-colored plastic table that was a little bit too short for him to sit at, and an equally almost-but-not-quite-right plastic chair. Then he'd moved some of the store room shelving enough to fit said chair and table into the little alcove against the wall.

Just like that, their new, not-traumatic break area was set up. It was almost perfect. He had to sit further back than was really comfortable to eat there, and it definitely took him a minute to sit or stand with how tight of a squeeze it was, but it worked. And it would make the employees laugh if they saw him eating there, which almost felt more important.

So their new routine started. Getting through long shifts was much easier, too, now that Mariano didn't have to stop eating halfway through his break because he stopped being able to breathe or his hands started to become too shaky. He could even put his headphones in without feeling like a muzzle was going to press up against his back.

That was exactly what he was doing, that day. He hadn't even gotten around to getting his lunch until four since the afternoon rush had gone on so long. His head was still gently spinning from going ten hours without eating, but the episode of the telenovela he'd been watching finally hit it's climax so he couldn't complain. The main characters' season-long misunderstanding was finally being hashed out, and the love octangle was on the line.

He was so drawn into the messy way Javier explained away his side-piece-turned-guardian-angel-turned-would-be-assassin to Gabriela that he didn't quite hear the shouting from the front. A quiet moment hit just in time for "I want you to move that piece of shit van out there!” to cut through the pensive background music.

Who was upset about Bananarama?

Mariano left his phone and earbuds on the table, trying to hurry out of the cramped little corner. His shoe caught on the chair leg, threatening to topple the table and send his remaining quarter-sandwich to the floor. He hopped, a frustrated groan escaping as he finally freed himself and stumbled backwards to freedom.

“No? No? That’s not your fucking van out there? That’s not your fucking van you hit my truck with?”

The sound of a man yelling sparked anger in Mariano's chest. Who came into his shop and thought they could speak to someone like that? Much less, Andrew? Mariano swung the door to the store room open just in time to see Andrew hit the floor, their caffeine-addicted Scary Regular almost in tears, and a man in camouflage pants with a fist still in the air. "You need to calm the fuck down." The man mocked, sneering down at a bleeding, stunned Andrew.

That angry spark condensed down into a black hole, cold and focused. Mariano's shoulders were squared, filling the doorway as he drew himself to his full height. He locked eyes with the man, all the loud bluster withering away. For once, he was glad that he'd worn something with short sleeves under his usual hoodie.

"Step away from my employee." He didn't need to growl or snarl like Bastian to get his point across. He held the man's gaze, striding forward from the stock room door to stand over Andrew, nose-to-nose with the man who'd hit him. He was so close that he could smell the gum on the man's breath. His voice dropped into a softer, lower pitch. "I do not care if you wait outside or leave. We will give your information to the authorities either way. Now." Mariano slammed his fist down on the counter, hard enough to make his wrist smart. "Get out of my shop."

Mariano didn't blink. He didn't relax his shoulders. He didn't even shift his weight until the man who hit Andrew did. When the man stepped backwards, Mariano took a step of his own. He evenly matched the man's pace, not giving him even a second to look at Andrew or Scary Regular as he was backed out of the coffee shop.

When the door chimed and swung shut again, Mariano took a breath. He held it a moment. Then released it, dropping his shoulders back down. When he turned back around to Scary Regular and still-downed Andrew, his expression had softened. "Please call emergency services." He said with a nod towards Scary Regular, who seemed pulled out of his daze by the request.

While Scary Regular dialed the number, Mariano reached down and slid an arm up under Andrew's shoulders. "It's okay, you're okay." He said, pulling Andrew up to sit against him. It didn't seem like Andrew had heard him.

"Andrew." He tried again, shifting to sit more comfortably on the floor. Andrew...didn't look great, but he probably wasn't dying. His nose didn't seem broken, but the floodgates had definitely been opened. "Andrew, breathe." Blood streamed down his face and chin, not helped by the ragged gasp Andrew finally managed.

Relief wound into Mariano's chest, coiling around and snuffing out the anger. Even the distant sound of two bumpers colliding in rage couldn't drag it back out. "Oh my god, he's crazy." Scary Regular muttered, quietly. "Yes, yes, at Cup o' Joe, the coffee shop? Someone just assaulted one of the employees--and that was a hit-and-run. No, no...yes. He's driving away."

“I can’t,” Andrew mumbled, dragging Mariano's attention fully back to him. “God– God I… I can’t, I–” He was blinking hard, tears starting to roll down his face.

“Breathe.” Mariano repeated. It was really disorienting to get punched in the nose, he knew that well. Andrew needed an anchor. Mariano's free hand came to rest at the center of Andrew's chest, hoping to give him something steady to focus on. “Breathe… in: two, three, four…”

Andrew's shoulders heaved as he sobbed, then tried to take another breath. This one was slower, and he leaned more heavily into Mariano's hold. “Two… three, four…” Andrew whispered, not quite able to keep the rhythm but clearly trying. Was he concussed? It looked like he'd hit the floor pretty hard.

“Blood…” Andrew stammered, after another moment. “There’s blood. Blood in my mouth.”

There sure would be. With a nosebleed that heavy, he would've been more shocked if Andrew wasn't swallowing some blood. "Out." Mariano said, winding more gentleness into his words. “Two, three, four…”

“He broke my nose.” Andrew started to reach for his face. He did not need to feel how much blood was running down his face right then. Carefully, Mariano leaned them both forward, curling around Andrew more and guiding him to look down.

“He didn’t.” Mariano answered. He lowered Andrew’s hands back down to his stomach. “In: two, three, four…”

“He-he did. He did.” Andrew shuddered as the tears started to come quicker, mingling with the red already dripping onto Mariano's wrist. “There’s–bones. Bones… my bones are in my brain…”

“They’re not. Breathe with me.”

“They are!” This time he coughed, choking out another breathless sob and sending more blood to be soaked up by his shirt collar. “There’s– I can feel– feel it in my throat… bones in my throat…”

“I can promise you, there’s not–”

“And my brain, my brain’s in my throat, my–my blood. I’m–my nose, he…”

“Andrew,” Mariano cut him off, his tone grounding and steady. He ducked his head lower, black eyes meeting green. Andrew needed to feel like he was safe. “In: two, three…”

Finally, it seemed like he was getting through the fear. Andrew looked at him--really looked at him. His crying still made his chest hitch, and the blood still dripped down Mariano's arm, but he didn't look lost anymore. Pulling Andrew tighter against him, Mariano felt Andrew rest his head against his chest.

He kept counting, low and even, Andrew's mohawk tickling his face as he shook in Mariano's arms. Tucked up under Mariano's chin, he was safe from any more weirdos who wanted to ruin some random barista's day. Outside, Mariano saw Scary Regular talking, taking pictures of Bananarama's new dent while still trying to hold his phone close to his face.

"This is all you need to do." Mariano murmured now and then, one thumb sliding along Andrew's arm. "Just breathe, I have you."

In minutes that felt more like hours, a very familiar hawk landed outside. Evritt. Mariano's favorite knight slid off of his familiar, relief clear on his face when Mariano gave him a small smile through the glass door.

Finally, the ambulance pulled up, and the paramedics hurried in. "He was punched by a customer." Mariano explained, shifting to let them work. "I don't think his nose is broken, but he hit his head on the floor."

The paramedics took over, pulling Andrew from Mariano's arms to get him ready for transport. "Are you riding with him?" One asked, putting a stethoscope to Andrew's chest.

Mariano glanced to Scary Regular, talking with Evritt and his mentor. They had this covered. "Yes, yes. I'm his manager." Andrew was feeling bad enough already without going through an ambulance ride alone. He didn't let go of Andrew's hand the entire time.

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hopefullystillliving · 2 months

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I have not seen the Rock of Ages movie and while I'm interested, frankly I doubt it can hold up to the wonders of the low-budget college theater club rendition. I'm sure a professional show would be more polished and technically perfect and also not have styrofoam and cardboard guitar props that fall apart in a stiff breeze but this production has my friends and the styrofoam/cardboard guitars I helped make so that means it's better.

#hopeful rambling #this show is so funny #it scratches a very specific spot in my brain where i can't stop grinning the entire time #i literally haven't seen any pictures of the movie/broadway cast but if i do i think they'll be Wrong #hashtag not my cast or whatever #i am rotating this show as though it's a blorbo i stuck in the microwave #i've been advertising it as: if you want a deep and profoundly emotional experience do not see this show #if you want 80s music and silly goofy fun times and strippers dancing on stage go see this show #there are so many good lines but the one that drives me genuinely insane is #'as you may know we lost dennis three years ago' 'what??' 'yeahhhh sorry man you're dead'#anyway. i am normal about rock of ages.

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mintcreamchan · 2 years

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I open my account, like, once in a blue moon, and I'm so happy I catch you posting something whenever I do! Congratulations on the anniversary and on the new phase of your life with the job stuff! Nice work! Whoo! \o/

You don't have to do this request at all since I know you don't know them, aside from when I most likely mentioned them before to you HAHA, but A3!'s Banri and Itaru, mayhaps? www

Nonetheless though, whether you do it or not, wishing you all the best! Again, congrats, Mint! Cheers for another year and I'm super proud of you! 🎉💖

😭😭😭 Awww Bear! Hahaha, I’m so happy when you catch me on here too! 🥰 This was an ask I wanted to keep a little longer, but it’s time to let go. So of course for you, Banri and Itaru + bonus below!

Again, thanks for your congrats and your kind words!!! 🙇‍♀️ And also, thank you for your patience + this request! 💖😄✨

#i will likely come back one day and draw them again #in color because i will admit that though banri’s clothes are a pain they sure are fun #i had far too much fun with the second one and the :3 face #also offs screen i was practicing itaru’s hair because he was the one giving the most trouble there surprisingly #but once i got the hang of drawing them #i was like ohhhh yeahhhh #a3! banri #a3! itaru #banri settsu #itaru chigasaki #my art #mintcreamchan #mintcreamchan drawing requests #mint drawing requests 2022

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formulaforza · 2 months

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miss americana and the heartbreak prince

—08. It's So Sweet —word count: 5.2k —warnings: none :) love, mackie... um... yeah. yeahhhh. sorry sorry sorry if you still read this fic. surprise I guess! its NOT as dead as you thought it was. See you guys again in four months. hopefully sooner if there is a God.

Charles, teeth dug into his tongue so hard he can taste copper, manages to keep from slipping up for the remainder of his time in Georgia. He swallows it down, chokes on an I love you everytime she looks at him for days that feel like an eternity.

The flight out to France that marks the end of his stay had spent weeks serving as a dreadful backmarker, but now it was one of solace, saving him from himself. He knows better than to spit out “I love you” two months in. He knows better, but he also knows. Simple as that. He just knows.

He’s good at keeping it down during phone calls and voice memos and FaceTimes because there’s no fucking way he’s stupid enough to say it over the phone. Whenever he does finally deem the time to be right, it’ll be inches from her face, with all the time in the world ahead of them. Her smile will be there, just waiting to be kissed.

It definitely will not be while she’s grading papers or reviewing a movie or putting purple refills in her pen, even though he finds himself thinking just how plain and simple he loves her when she’s doing those things.

– – –

Charles spends the holidays with his family in France, coming pretty much directly from his time with Chris and her family in Georgia.

They quiz him like there’s no tomorrow about all of it; on Chris, and her family and her city and her life. He thinks he does a half-decent job at keeping his cards close to his chest; hiding his tells and acting completely normal and regular and plain about it all.

Well. He can be coy and secretive to everyone but his mom. Mother’s always know when their sons are in love, and Pascale has always been particularly apt at seeing straight through her boys and the bullshit they try to feed her.

He’s helping with dinner dishes—working hard to get those extra points towards being the favorite son this weekend—when she confronts him about it. He knows he’s in trouble. He’s never been able to lie to her in a way that was even sort-of convincing.

“So, Chris…” she hums, drying three two forks at once with a damp towel. “Is this going to be something?” She asks. Charles shrugs, squeezing more blue dish soap onto the plate in his other hand. “That’s too much,” she remarks.

He ignores the comment, moves the scrubbing sponge over the plate in small circles. “It’s new, still.”

“But you like her?”

He chuckles. Of course he likes her. He wouldn’t be dating her, traveling to see her, introducing her to his family if he didn’t at least like her. That’d just be cruel. “I like her a lot,” he says. I like her the most, he bites his tongue. He rinses the soap from the plate.

Pascale nods, soft smile on her lips when she takes the plate from his hand, drying it carefully. “Just like, is that right, Charles?”

He knows what she means, what she’s implying. They both know she’s right, too, but he can’t stand to admit it. He feels like if he does, if he actually speaks the words out loud, there’s no way he’s going to be able to keep it in anymore. It’ll be breaking the seal, and he can’t. Not yet. He doesn’t have it in him yet. “Maman,” he says, and his tone is laced with her answer, soft and sweet and pleading in a desperate way.

She smiles, sets the plate down onto the counter gently. It still clatters against the marble. “I know,” she hums, hand finding his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

Charles spends New Year’s Eve in London. He’s with his brothers and his friends and like, all of their girlfriends. He’s been pathetically texting her the entire trip going on about i’ll buy your ticket if you want to come and it would be so much more fun with you here.

What Charles doesn’t know is that Chris is on her way, and that she’d been planning the surprise with Joris for three weeks. After a red eye flight from Atlanta that lands a little before two in the afternoon in London, Joris manages to sneak off from the group to meet her at the hotel and give her a key to his room. She hides out there for most of the afternoon while Joris tries to convince the group to head back to the hotel for a few hours without spoiling the surprise of why they should go back to the hotel in the middle of the day.

When he finally gets them back to the hotel, he waits fifteen minutes to text her the all clear, to let her know that she can come and execute the surprise.

It takes her an almost comical amount of time to find his room, considering it’s in the same hallway as everyone else’ rooms, and only ends up being three or four doors down from where she’d started. When she finally finds it, she’s hit with a sudden wave of anxiety.

What if he doesn’t want me here? She worries. Her hands get clammy and she stands there in front of the door like a complete idiot just waiting for her body to do something, to do anything. Finally, she brings her fist to the door and knocks.

Voices are muffled and heavy feet shuffle on the other side of the door before finally, after what feels like an eternity of loud bickering from the boys about who’s going to open the door, Chris is face to face with Charles, stupid, toothy grin on her face. “Oh,” he says.

Behind him, the guys jeer in French, but neither of them are paying any attention. Chris can't stop laughing, standing there, staring at Charles in the doorway. He stares right back, his eyes a window into the gears that turn behind them, processing… processing… processing so incredibly slowly. “Are you gonna hug me, or just stare at me?” She finally asks, and he laughs, snapping into reality, pulling her into a tight hug.

“What are you doing here?” He questions, pressing a hard kiss into her hair, and then he laughs even harder. “How did you get here?”

– – –

Chris isn’t there for more than a couple days—she has to be back at work as winter break winds to a close, and Charles has training camp in Italy at the end of the week. It’s a quick visit, but they make the most of it, and they do get their new year’s eve kiss.

It’s been, like, a month and a half since Chris was last in Monaco, but it’s been just two and a half weeks since someone posted a TikTok of Charles and her walking around Monte Carlo together. That means, it’s been two weeks of Chris stumbling upon, and falling down rabbit holes of, Charles’ fan accounts desperately trying to put a face to the back of the head of the girl in the video.

She’s less interested in are they going to figure out who I am and more interested in are they at least, like, close? The answer is no. No, they are not even kind-of close to connecting Chris with him. It’s all models and friends and people he follows on Instagram and even one ex-girlfriend, but definitely no American kindergarten teachers.

The fire is only fed, though, when on New Year’s Eve, drunk on Moscow Mules and equipped with the world’s most fashionable LED glasses, Charles is posted showing off the look. Under his arm, equally as drunk off espresso martinis, is Chris, engaged in conversation with Joris beside her.

It’s been two-thousand twenty-three for fifteen minutes, and Instagram explore pages across the world are already filled with pictures of the side of her head and Charles’ goofy heart-eyed glasses.

Chris is too drunk to know, much less care, but when she does find out about it, she won’t be bothered. She thinks that maybe she never will be a big deal—certainly not as big of one as he seems to think it is. Nothing is going to happen, she tells him so many times it doesn’t even sound like a sentence anymore. Who cares if everyone figures out who I am?

January isn’t much but settling into a routine. They’re both busy with a million and one different things—just a little peek into any sort of future they hope to have together—and it’s the end of the month before they see each other in person again.

Every post he makes on social media—every video, photo, story, mention, and repost is run through a microscope, carefully dissected searching for a repeat like and commenter, for an unfamiliar woman’s voice or a hand or a coat or a head of hair. Names fly around in a tornado of guesses, and none of them are correct.

It’s an easy routine to fall into; scheduled phone calls, FaceTime dates twice a week, and sneakily sent texts in the middle of the workday. Sometimes it feels like they aren’t all that far apart, like he could walk out the front door and get into his car and drive for fifteen minutes and be at her house, eat dinner at the same table, fall asleep at the same time, in the same bed. Other times, they can feel every step of the four-thousand, six-hundred, ninety-five miles that separate them, when it’s all pictures of dinner and goodmorning texts seen three hours later and delayed, laggy FaceTime calls.

It’s on one of those calls, where her face is frozen mid-conversation, that she’s gushing about how excited she is for some school event at the end of the month, the Art show, she’d called it, and when—after sorting out the camera issue for the time being—he’d asked for clarification on what exactly an Art show is, she’d explained the whole event with a big, excited smile on her face.

“Oh my gosh!” She’d laughed, pulling her legs underneath her. “Okay, so, it’s the coolest thing. Basically, the art department displays all of the art the students have made so far this year all throughout the year, and the kids get to show it off to all their family. They set up a book fair in the library, and they serve ice-cream in the cafeteria,” she explains, “All the teachers go, and they bring their families, too,” she nods. “It’s really cool. I like to see how proud the kids are of their work.”

He decides then, in that very moment, that he doesn’t want to hear about this in text messages and photos and Facetime calls. He wants to be there—feel her energy, her pride, her smile. It just pours out of his mouth, what if I came? And then, before she can even come up with a response, If that’s okay, obviously. If you even would like, want that, you know.

She bites down on a smile. “I thought you wanted to keep things quiet?” she chuckles, “be all protective of me and stuff?”

Charles shrugs. “I don’t think anyone would believe I’m at a primary school’s art-fair in the middle-of-nowhere America.”

“I mean, I don’t care,” she explains, tucking her bangs behind her ears. “But you do. I’d love it if you could be there.”

He smiles. “You’d love it?”

“I would!” She laughs, leaning forward, closer to the camera. “You’d better come for more than just a day though,” she continues, slumping back against the couch behind her, picking at the cuticles on her thumb, raising her brows when she quietly adds: “I can think of lots of other things I’d love to do with you.”

He shakes his head, dimples digging into his cheeks. “You’re a tease, Christyn,” he taunts, and her head shoots up from her cuticle.

“You have such a dirty mind, Charlie!” she laughs, and his cheeks burn at the nickname, at the accusation.

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, and she only laughs harder, smiles bigger.

“Why?” She teases, crossing her arms over her chest, cocking her head to the side playfully. “Because it makes you blush?”

– – –

There’s really only one of Chris’ students that Charles knows by name: Quinn. Or, as Chris usually refers to her, my sweet, sweet, little Quinnie. Quinnie is not at the art show. Chris goes on to explain that she and her family are never at any of the school events—no open houses, no field trips, no choir recitals or art shows or parent teacher conferences. If it’s not a free event that takes place during school hours, neither Quinn or her siblings will be there, and their Mother will never be there because she’s always at work.

So, no Quinn to win over. He does, however, meet what may be the cutest kid he’s ever been face-to-face with in Landry, a little girl with two long brown braids and a strawberry patterned dress on. Landry is the first of her students to find their teacher, and completely ignores him to tug Chris’ arm towards the little girl’s artwork hung in the hallway.

“I’ll be right back,” she says hurriedly, over her shoulder, letting the little girl pull her away. Charles nods and flashes her a quick wink before she’s properly whisked away, leaving him with nothing better to do than shove his hands deep in his pockets and analyze the artwork of primary school students.

When she finds him again, no Landry in tow, she links her arm through his, leaning her head against his shoulder. “She told me I have a cute boyfriend,” she says.

“No, she did not,” He laughs, but his ears blush pink.

“She did,” she nods. “She said you were ‘oh my goodness he is soooooo cute,’” Chris repeats, in a sing-songy tone. “I said, ‘I know right! He’s the cutest.’”

“Whatever,” Charles mutters, running his other hand through his hair. “Where’s the ice-cream at, anyway?”

Two styrofoam bowls of vanilla ice-cream slices—one covered in rainbow sprinkles, the other with chocolate syrup and a maraschino cherry—later, and Chris and Charles are sitting at Chris’ desk in her classroom, him in the green spinning chair, her on the desk itself.

Two boys, who Chris refers to after they leave the room as Nash and Wyatt, are bouncing off the walls with excitement when they turn the corner into Chris’ classroom, their faces lighting up when they find her there. “Miss Elliott!” One of them shouts, half-out of breath. “The book fair has posters of your brother!” He explains.

“Yeah!” The other chimes in. “I see-ed it when my sister was getting a poster of,” he takes a big breath, “of, uh, a princess poster or something.”

“Yeah, and I get-ted this one!” The first kid adds, unrolling the paper in this hand to reveal a black and white Fortnite poster, demonstrating the dances from the game. “Cool right?” He asks, and Chris nods.

“So cool!” She says, “where are you going to hang it?”

Charles leans back in the chair, spinning slightly side to side, eating his ice-cream and just observing the interaction.

“Um, probably in my bedroom.”

Chris nods again, “perfect place for it,” she agrees.

– – –

He’s in Georgia for three days; Friday to Sunday, and spends all of it with Chris, almost entirely at her house. The art show is on Friday night, but he finds himself playing sleepover host with Chris on Saturday when Reid appears with a backpack, a pillow, and a baby blanket Chris tells him not to refer to as a baby blanket.

Chase is racing in Los Angeles this weekend, and left town on Tuesday, leaving Hannah alone on Mom duty. That would be all fine, if the weekend didn’t fall on the one weekend a month she works. Bill, Cindy, Chris, and Hannah’s mom have been helping to pick up the slack left in Chase’ absence.

It all comes together to result in him sitting in the middle of the living room, on the floor, surrounded by every blanket and pillow in the entire house on a Saturday night—a four-year-old boy sitting across from him, hanging on his every word, and his girlfriend in the other room making popcorn.

He’s been tasked with coming up with, and executing the plan for a super, super, cool boy-fort that Auntie Chris can come into, I guess.

A fort that fits into that description is a lot easier in theory. In Practice, however, he’s faced with the nephew he desperately needs the approval of, and a pile of purple and pink and sparkly and fluffy blankets and pillows.

It takes all four of the dining table chairs, a curtain rod from the screened-in porch, a fitted sheet, and a box fan, but the fort is quickly commissioned, and gets Reid’s stamp of approval when he moves his pillow, favorite blanket, and definitely not a baby-blanket, baby-blanket into the build.

Chris is behind them momentarily, knocking on the seat of one of the dining chairs before Reid permits her to enter. She crawls in, laptop and big bowl of popcorn in either hand. Reid is sandwiched between the two of them, Cars blanket covering his little frame, eyes glued to the screen while buttery fingers bury themselves in the popcorn bowl.

Reid is asleep about five minutes after the popcorn bowl is empty, Chris running her fingers through his short brown hair while soft little snores leave his lips. Her head rests on his pillow, just above his head, and she watches the movie. Charles watches her, arm propped up at the elbow, holding his head up. She’s so soft. So sweet. It ties him up in knots.

He feels like a child when she catches him staring, her eyes glancing over to him and making unexpected contact. His cheeks burn and his eyes dart away, back to the screen, to the movie. She giggles softly, barely loud enough for him to hear over his sudden mortification. “Beautiful fort you’ve built here,” she says, and he looks back at her, meets her eyes properly this time.

“Thank you,” he chuckles. “I’m thinking maybe I will make it my new career after racing.” Charles nods. Chris nods. A smile dances its way across her lips, turning the corners up gently. It makes him smile, too. “Charles Leclerc: Professional fort builder.”

“Oh,” She chuckles. “I can hear it now. You’ll be a household name.”When Charles wakes up, credits are rolling on the laptop screen and Chris’ hand is moving softly over his shoulder. He’s the bridge of his nose and picking the sleep out of his eyes and trying to get his bearings. All he’s sorted out so far is that Chris is here, he’s fucking boiling, and there’s a sleeping kid between them. He squints his eyes—like the dim light from the black credit screen is too bright for him—until she comes into focus. She points to the exit of the fort. “Bed,” she mouths.

“Well,” Chris shrugs, bringing a forkful of salad to her mouth. “I think you’ve won Reid over.”

Charles laughs on her phone screen. He’s in Italy… or Monaco… or… she’s not really sure, to be honest. It’s hard to keep track sometimes, when he’s always somewhere new. He’s in bed, wherever he is, the lamp from her kitchen casting the only light in his dark room. “Is that right?”

“Oh yeah,” she nods. “I had the pleasure of reminding him you weren’t here this afternoon. He wasn’t happy with me.” She remembers it well, his declaration that Charles and Me are going to play games today, and remembers better the little, defeated oh, right after she had to remind him Charles had left the day before.

Charles chuckles, shaking his head and rolling his eyes playfully. “I told him goodbye!”

“I know!” She says, taking another bite, her hand covering her mouth while she talks around the lettuce. “He thought you meant goodbye for the day,” she explains, swallowing. “Not goodbye for a while.”

Charles frowns. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Chris laughs, poking her fork around her bowl. “I love that he likes you so much, it’s adorable,” she hums. “He’s absolutely devastated you won’t be at his birthday party, though.”

Charles scoffs, his mouth dramatically falling open. “No way. You didn't tell me it was his birthday!”

“Because it’s not for like, two weeks!” She defense, laughing. “I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“When is it?”

She cocks her head to the side, already knowing what he’s about to say, and unscrews the top of her water bottle. “His birthday’s the sixteenth, but the party is the eighteenth.”

“I’ll be there.”

“No you won’t. You have testing.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah,” she insists. “On Monday you have to be in Bahrain.”

“Monday is not Saturday.”

Chris doesn’t tell anyone outside of Chase and Hannah that Charles is flying in, and they definitely don’t tell Reid about it, just in case it falls through for any of the million reasons it could possibly fall through because of.

It was a last minute-trip, after all, and it seems like every second of Charles’ time is accounted for right now, so Chris is prepared at any moment to get a text or a call apologetically explaining that he got pulled into something else. That call never comes, and she picks him up from the airport late Friday night, just in time to bicker in the middle of a liquor store about wine.

“Absolutely not, baby.” He says, shaking his head, a truly horrified look on his face.

“You don’t even drink wine!” She insists, holding a three-liter box of Franzia. “This is perfectly fine.”

His eyes go wide, brows raising like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “It’s in a box.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s for a fifth birthday party.”

“It’s not for the five-year-old,” he argues, picking two bottles of overpriced chardonnay from the shelf. “We’ll get these.”

– – –

Much to the dismay of the other, they show up to the party the next afternoon with one box and one bottle.

Reid is upstairs playing with some kid that Chris is related to somehow, she’s sure, so their arrival goes unnoticed by the birthday boy. Instead, Chris is heaving the box of wine onto the kitchen island, greeting a visibly stressed Hannah with a hug. Charles follows closely behind, setting his bottle down next to her box, following the hug train to Hannah.

“Look great, as always, Hannah,” He says, and Hannah laughs.

“I’m a mess, the house is a mess. Reid,” she looks to Chris, “Lord have mercy on me, your nephew has dressed himself.”

Chris scowls, and then shrugs. Charles laughs. “He can be Chandler’s nephew, today,” she says.

“He’s still your godson, though,” Hannah reminds.

“Oh, don’t I know it!”

Charles takes Chris’ coat with his own, hands them both up in the mud room that’s just off the kitchen. He hears Hannah calling for Reid while he does it, telling him to come down and say hello to your auntie. Auntie Chris. He loves the way Reid says it—Annie Chris—or, when he really wants to stir some shit up, which Charles has come to learn is just about all of the time, Reid will call her Miss Elliott.

Everyone hears him before they see him, little feet making heavy noises as they hurry down the stairs so quickly he might as well have just jumped off the landing and tuck’n’rolled his way into the kitchen. He’s bouncing on his feet, talking to Chris animatedly with his back turned to Charles when he appears in the mud-room doorway. Immediately, Chris is glancing up to him and covering Reid’s eyes with her hands, turning him to face Charles. “I have a surprise for you, Reidy.”

“What?” He squirms. “What is it?”

“More like who is it?” Hannah says, and Reid gasps.

“Chucky?” He asks, and Chris is grinning at Charles, adjusting her hands over the boy’s eyes so one hand covers them both. With the other hand, she pokes Reid’s side right where he’s ticklish and makes him giggle.

“Who?” She asks, his belly laugh making her laugh, too.

“Sharles!” Reid exclaims, breathless from laughing so hard. “Sha-rle,” He laughs out, enunciating the poorly mocked accent.

“Wrong,” Chris says, and then takes her hand off his eyes to reveal Charles.

Reid is slamming into Charles’ legs before he can even squat down to give the kid a proper hug, settling for just hugging his legs. “You comed!” He cheers.

“Come on, Mate!” Charles says, ruffling the little boy’s hair. “You didn’t think I would miss such an important birthday?”

Chris watches the whole interaction with a giddy smile on her face. Hannah watches, too, while she stirs a crock pot full of nacho cheese. Reid fills Charles in on everything that’s happened to him since Charles left, and is already asking if Charles wants to go play catch outside with the football he’s gotten from his dad earlier that week, on his actual birthday. When Hannah slides behind Chris, between her body and the cabinets, muttering a quick behind you and grabbing a ladle from a drawer, she gives Chris’ shoulder a soft squeeze.

– – –

Chris is MIA when Bill and Cindy turn up, arms full of food and gifts for their only grandchild, but Charles is in the backyard, standing around a smoking fire pit with Chase and Reid and other people he remembers meeting from the wedding, but who’s names he wouldn’t be able to remember if there was a gun held to his temple.

Bill and Cindy wander out shortly after they arrive, looking for the birthday boy, and Charles handles the introductions all by himself—a handshake to Dad, a compliment to Mom, and hugs for both of them. He knows how to charm. Knows he’s going to be working at it for a while, probably. He’s more than willing to put in the hours.

“I didn’t know you were comin’, son,” Bill says, and Charles is nodding, hands in his jacket pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Yeah, it was a kind of… last minute choice.”

“Aw,” Cindy hums. “What a sweetheart. How long are you in town for?”

“Just a couple days,” he explains. “Chris is off work this week, but I have to get to Bahrain in a couple days. Get used to the timezone and everything.”

“Ah,” Bill nods. “Season’s starting up again, that right?”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “It never stops, it feels like,” and Bill nods.

“Don’t I know it, boy.”

“Is Chrissy planning on coming out to any of your races?” Cindy asks, linking her arm through Bill’s, leaning against him around the fire. “I know she told us that y’all are keeping it pretty hush-hush for now.”

“Eventually, I hope she can,” he says. “I don’t want to have her come if she doesn’t feel comfortable.”

Cindy nods, smiling to herself. “Smart answer, honey,” she says, and Bill laughs. “You’re a good egg.” Charles chuckles softly, if only because he doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s been called a lot of things over the years, but good egg might be a new one.

Just then, Chris is pushing open the sliding door on the back deck, stepping out with her coat on, the hood pulled up over her head, her hands hidden in the sleeves. “Well, speak of the Devil,” Bill says, greeting his daughter with a tight hug.

“Uh oh,” Chris laughs, following suit with a hug for her mom, too. “Y’all are talking about me?”

He’s come to learn that her accent is never anywhere as strong as it is when she's around family. He’s familiar with the pattern of it, and does the same thing after long breaks away from speaking English or Italian. It takes a while to settle back into translating your thoughts. He thinks it’s probably pretty similar, even if she’s not translating from another language. He thinks it’s cute, when the southern twang gets extra prominent. It’s cute, and it’s sweet, and she sounds like a movie character sometimes.

She slots into her comfortable position at Charles’ side, and his arm is tossing itself over her shoulder before he even realizes it’s happening. It’s habit, almost, to keep her close. “Always,” he says.

– – –

They’re cute and annoyingly couple-ey all night. He doesn’t care if she’s related to or friends with almost everyone here, he’s never not amazed at just how easily she can find home in any conversation. Sometimes he wonders if he looks as awestruck about it as he feels, watching her put on this masterclass with everyone she talks to—from passing, brief conversations about how good Hannah’s food is and how old Reid is getting, to the long, sit-down chats about work and her life and their lives. It’s so crystal clear that she makes everyone feel important—the most important person in the room—and he;s even starting to remember names.

There’s a lot of names to remember.

There’s nobody that feels quite as important to Chris as Charles does, though, he’s sure of it. In fact, he’s not sure there’s another person on Earth that could manage to make a social event into something so… recharging for him. She just radiates energy, truly. It’s in the atmosphere, just being in her proximity, just having an arm around her or their fingers intertwined or the smell of her perfume on his clothes is enough.

He loves her so horribly that he’s almost sick with it. He’s biting his tongue all night. Hell, he’s even trying to talk himself out of the now months old revelation.

Like, she drinks wine from a fucking box. A box. Of wine. And she sees absolutely no problem with it. She wants to drag him around to every person, to engage in every conversation. She changed her perfume or her shampoo or her laundry detergent or something, because she smells different than the last time he was with her. She drives like an elderly woman—Jesus fucking Christ, she takes the speed limit so seriously it’s hard to sit in the passenger seat and let it happen. She cried three times on the way from Atlanta. Three times, because she saw some roadkill that wasn't even identifiable, and couldn’t stop thinking about it. She’s covered in glitter, like, all the time. And so is her stuff. It’s on her face and her hands and her clothes and every surface of her house. Glitter and spelling tests and like, six variations of the same travel coffee mug. She listens to country music as if it’s the only genre of music that exists, and she listens to it all the time. He doesn’t love her. He doesn’t. If he did, he wouldn't have been able to keep it in for so long.

He doesn’t love her, and then she laughs and he can feel it in his fucking gut, feels the urge to laugh even when he doesn’t get the joke, even when he misses entirely what is making her so happy. He wants to laugh because she’s laughing and her laugh makes the world a better place and he loves her so bad it hurts.

last chapter masterlist next chapter

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randombush3 · 6 months

Note

YEAHHHH!!’

gladly x

---

“Y/n left me.”

The limousine you are in is completely black, save for the white lines being measured out right next to you.

“What?” says Jenni.

“She left me,” Alexia says once more. The hotel room is a non-committal beige. They lie in the same bed, the older of the two welcoming her lost teammate wordlessly and without judgement. Tomorrow, they will return to Barcelona, losers yet another time. “She moved back to london. She took Nico.”

“She can’t just take Nico, can she?”

“Y/n, how’s Nico?” Your stomach turns, but whether that is provoked by the thought of the baby boy you left crying in your father’s arms or by the white powder outlining the rim of the woman’s nostrils, you don’t know.

Your son’s creasing eyes, red face, and grabbing hands appear in front of you. He screams as you walk away. He doesn’t understand why he has not smelt Alexia in weeks, and he misses the comfort of home.

Everyone waits for your answer. No one comments on the bags under your eyes. “He's fine,” you say with a smile. “He loves it here.”

“I think she is depressed,” Alexia tells Jenni, comforted by the arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close and tightly and reminding her that she is not as alone as you have made her feel. “She told me that she couldn’t be in Barcelona anymore, but she said that without giving me a chance to come with her. Her bags were packed before the conversation started — she might as well have called me from the plane.”

“Are you angry at her?”

“Yes.”

Alexia thinks about it.

“No.”

“No,” you say when they point at your very own line. The drug holds a place of both familiarity and hatred in your heart. The fine, white powder reminds you of greatness – of being the most successful girl group in the UK – but, also, of hospital visits. It’s not a past addiction, but it could have been. You light a cigarette instead, though it will make the vehicle reek.“I can't. I have a son.”

“You’re not a saint.” They boo. “You’re allowed to have fun. I saw you the other day, and you had no qualms with any drugs then.”

“No, I'm not a saint,” you reply. You regret that night — however little you remember. “But I am a mother.”

“Is it that thing? Postpartum?” Jenni asks. “The baby blues are really shitty, I've heard, but they’re not supposed to cripple you. Maybe the relationship has other issues.”

“I'm not angry at her, Jenni,” Alexia repeats. “I miss Nico. He looks like her. He has started to look a lot more like her now.”

“He would definitely suit those sparkly bralettes.” Jenni giggles at the thought.

With an understandable lack of good humour, Alexia ponders something more realistic. “He would suit a Barcelona kit.”

“He would be made for it. You are his mother.”

“I'm not angry at her,” Alexia says for the third time, just to make herself believe it. Just to carve those words into her bones and tell herself that it isn’t anger, what she’s feeling. “I don't want to be angry at her. I think I'm going to see if I can move to arsenal.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Well, I'm not angry at her.”

“Alexia.” Jenni cups her cheek tenderly. “Ale.” She knows she shouldn’t. She’s not angry at you, and so there is no punishment needed. Not that… Not that kissing Jenni would ever be utilised as a weapon to get back at you. Or that she’d actually kiss her.

“Daddy, I can't get him tonight. No, I don't want to stay over. Daddy, I…” You hate the baby. You hate yourself. You hate that Spain hasn’t done well, and that your fiancée is disappointed that nothing is how it was supposed to be. Alexia is probably lying awake in bed, missing her son, and missing you. You expect one of her teammates to call you soon, and tell her that she needs you. You’re her person. “I'm going to get some sleep and I'll pick him up tomorrow. Probably around lunchtime, okay?”

“Alexia."

---

what do we think?

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fc barcelona #woso imagines #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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judithhhh · 4 months

Text

spanish (one-shot)

jude x gf! reader

summary : in which jude has a girlfriend who can't speak spanish at all, just like him

When Jude told you about his transfer to Real Madrid, you were totally thrilled at the thought of moving to Spain with him. The two of you looked for a nice home to install in and were fully ready to start this new chapter of your lives together. There was one thing that you forgot to think about though ; you and Jude were absolute shit at spanish. No matter how hard you tried to get used to the new language, no progress was made. This meant that the first few months in Madrid were desastrous apart from Jude's incredible debut at the club. Something simple as doing groceries or driving to a new place became a whole challenge for the both of you. Adding to that, there was the fact that the media and his fans found the fact that you were the worse spanish speakers La Liga had seen in a while absolutely hilarious. You couldn't even count how many clips of you two trying to talk with interviewers or with fans ended up on twitter.

Jude had gotten most of the backlash though. Not only his fans but also his teammates loved to make fun of him for his incompetence in the language. You, a much more private person, had not been seen on social media or out in public as much, meaning that the few clips of your disastrous attempts of speaking spanish were with Jude and not alone. You often made fun of Jude, saying that he was the most lost one, using the excuses that you had taken a few spanish classes back in secondary school so you were obviously better than him. This feeling that you could speak better quickly went away though, when an extremely amusing video of you, and only you, found its way on twitter and tiktok.

The video taking place at the Golden Boy awards, you were dressed in a beautiful black dress and was smiling widely at the camera. The interviewer first asked you questions in english about your opinion on Jude's accomplishments and more about the teams you liked ect... The interview took another turn when someone else came and started asking you questions in the unfamiliar language. Basing yourself on some classes that you took a good five years ago, you responded in the same language and, obviously, it was a shit show. Your sentences didn't add up, you used words in english or french and pretended like they were correct by saying them in a spanish accent, or you just said words, that everyone was pretty sure, never existed. At one moment, the camera panned to the spanish interviewer that looked like he was using every inches of his brain to not laugh in your face. That, of course, made Jude's fans laugh even harder.

You were not aware of this video, and of how shit your spanish was, until Jude came home, one day, yelling your name. You ran downstairs, happy to see him after his training but was greeted by the sight of your boyfriend in tears in front of his phone. You took a step closer to him and your worries went away when you realize he was actually crying laughing.

"What's so funny Jude?"

The boy tried to compose himself but could barely form a sentence in between his fits of laughter.

"You haven't seen the video?"

"What video..?"

He turned his phone around, showing you the interview. Mortified, you couldn't talk or move and just stood there flustered.

"Ain't no way... It can't be that bad babe what the fuck."

"Oh yeahhhh, it's that bad" The boy said looking everything but sorry for you. The fucker was enjoying this.

"You regret making fun of me now huh?"

"I don't regret shit Jude, leave me alone"

"Aww come onnn, don't be mad now"

You ignored him, walking up the stairs and sitting down on your shared bed. Jude was quick to follow you sitting against the headboard before putting you on his lap, facing him. His hands around your waist, he squeezed it as he began talking.

"You know it wasn't that horrible. You're English, people understand that you don't know spanish that well..."

"It doesn't matter baby. Did you see that oh my god, I was like a toddler was trying to speak."

"Well, maybe a little bit"

You groaned, burying your head in his shoulder as the boy started laughing histerically again. The two of you stayed there for a while until Jude composed himself. Taking a deep breath, he looked at you in the eyes before smiling softly.

"You know I love you right?"

"Yeah I know, I love you too"

"Even though you're shit at spanish"

"SHUT UP!"

#football #football imagine #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude x reader #football x reader #jude bellingham x reader #hey jude :)

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icypopz · 2 years

Text

with a physically flexible s/o ♡

↬ from anon ; 👋 hello. i saw that you write for blue lock (thank u) and i was wondering if i could please request headcanons of meguru, hyoma and rin with a s/o who's physically flexible. it's ok if you don't write this, i hope you have a great day.

↬ notes ; bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma & itoshi rin x gn!reader

↬from ice ; had fun writing this bc ive always wanted to be flexible LOL living out my dreams in fiction

↬ warning(s) ; joking threats, spoilers for chigiri's backstory

please reblog ! it helps a lot :)

[ bachira meguru ! ]

bachira would be very impressed the first time he sees you showcase your flexibility. actually, scratch that. bachira is impressed every single time you do even the simplest tricks because he can't seem to wrap his head around how a human can be so... stretchy?

he's your #1 fan! every time you're stretching even before you start contorting, bachira will be cheering for you like "go y/n! yeahhhh! you're awesome!" he lowkey likes seeing how you get embarrassed because of his enthusiasm. (he thinks it's adorable.)

definitely wants you to teach him how to do the most extreme stunt ever, but you convince him to start off with something more beginner-friendly like splits. bachira is super focused while you're teaching him, and after a few days of stretching, he finally gets it! he's so proud of himself and he just does it All The Time for no reason until raichi threatens to break his legs.

he also may or may not make some jokes about you putting your flexibility to good use with him but will never go too far. he just likes teasing you and seeing your reaction. tells everyone else in blue lock that his s/o is the most flexible and coolest person on the planet, they've all heard so much about you by now that they swear they already know you.

more content utc !

[ chigiri hyoma ! ]

chigiri, as we all know, is a prince who always manages to keep his cool. so even if you suddenly start performing crazy feats the most this man will react is probably just his eyes widening. don't worry, he's really impressed, he just doesn't show it on his features.

however, he makes up for it by asking you a million questions about your flexibility! nothing invasive, of course, just queries like "when did you start attempting stunts?" "why do you like it?" "how do you even do that?" it shows how invested and interested he is in your flexibility because it's something that makes you happy.

chigiri is also quite concerned about you though. he knows that contorting yourself into all these positions isn't going to be easy on your muscles and tendons, so he reminds you to warm up and cool down every time you start stunting. he just doesn't want you to experience the same pain he did of having his dream almost ripped from him when he tore his ACL. so he might come off as slightly overprotective, but he has good intentions at heart!

he likes stretching with you for sure. it's just a cute way for the two of you to spend more time together before he's rushing to football practice and you're heading to practice your stunts. you'll both look out for each other and wish each other luck during these little sessions, and it always has to end with you planting a soft kiss onto chigiri's cheek for luck. (he says it's for luck, but actually he just likes you kissing him.)

[ itoshi rin ! ]

rin acts like he couldn't care less about everyone else but you're the exception: you're his entire world and one of the few times itoshi rin has been stunned was when you showed him how flexible you were for the first time. no joke his jaw was on the floor.

he thinks it's an awesome skill, and will kinda gush about it to you at first. he gets shy if you tease him about how many compliments he's showering you with and then gets grumpy. the conversation after that is something along the lines of: "aww, rin, you're so cute!" "no. shut up. i'm never being nice again." "nooo, i was just messing with you!" "too much praise will inflate your ego." "aren't you the biggest egoist here?! hypocrite!!!"

to be honest, he's more impressed by the amount of work you've put in to become this limber. he knows how hard it can be to maintain a specific physique in terms of muscle and flexibility, so he genuinely admires your hard work and effort. rin also likes inviting you to the gym so he can work out/train while you stretch and do your own thing.

rin actually doesn't think about the fact that you're flexible that much. he just thinks it's an added bonus to how amazing you are as a whole already, though he'd never admit that to you for the life of him. (he loves you but he Cannot handle your playfulness.)

✧ thank you for reading ! if you have a request, feel free to send it in 🌠

#[ my writing — ! ]#[ blue lock — ! ]#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bachira x reader #bachira meguru x reader #chigiri x reader #chigiri hyoma x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock #bllk #bllk bachira #bllk rin #bllk chigiri #bachira meguru #chigiri hyoma #itoshi rin

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ask-whitepearl-and-steven · 3 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/ask-whitepearl-and-steven/741169476270211072/has-it-sometimes-occured-that-a-theory-ask-showed?source=share

on similar topic, but from different angle: have you ever seen a comment or got an ask that made you go "damn, why didn't i think about it back then when planning the story"? Just curious! As an author myself I experience it sometimes cuz audience can look at things from angles I never even considered and come up with shit way crazier than I ended up with

Also, have you ever had a "yeahhhh i totally planned it intentionally" moment about some coincidences that readers read as intentional symbolism/forshadowing/parallels/etc?

I have had several of those moments, yes! It's fun to see people theorize and come up with twists I never would have.

But again - I'm satisfied with what I have now.

As for the last one...............yeah, there's actually been multiple things I know I've added as a thoughtless detail but people picked it up as foreshadowing. It's mostly minor stuff, but I've just rolled with it as THOUGH it was intentional. It helps my cause. :)

Don't ask me to tell you what it was, because I legitimately no longer remember. It was small stuff not anything life changing.

#chekhov answers

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kitsunefox1108 · 2 years

Note

Can I request yandere self aware raph and donnie (separate & romantic) with gn reader who always looks so giddy and happy when they're on the screen? They even go, "YEAHHHH BEAT THEIR ASS BABES!!!" Or "What the fuck, why does he look so cute rn?" Or just compliment galore cause that's how amazing the guys are

YANDERE!SELF AWARE! ROTMNT! DONNIE AND RAPH X GN! READER

( 1 GIF BY DONNIES JACKET

2 GIF BY NEBULA AWARD )

Raph and Donnie think they developed schizophrenia when they started hearing a voice in their head.

but when they talked and started talking about this topic, they realized that they did not have schizophrenia, and this problem was related to something else.

They admired your voice, especially when they were fighting and heard your screeching like "YES! WET THEM! THEY DESERVED IT. YEAH, YEAH, DONNY, RIGHT THERE, BABY."

these phrases made them believe in themselves, and even though they think it's strange, their self-confidence increased.

They started falling in love with your voice, but what scared them the most was that Leo and Mikey couldn't hear you.

when you complimented them a lot, their self-esteem grew.

Over time, they started noticing your silhouette. It's just everywhere, as if you are nearby, but it wasn't like that.

While watching the series, you began to notice that Donnie and Raph behave differently from the others. They often looked directly at the screen or made indirect hints that they saw you, although there was no such thing in spoilers on the Internet.

Raph wrote his questions directly in the notes, and you could read them. Seeing the question "how long have you been following us?" hit you too hard.

there was no time for fun anymore.

you could ask your friends if they have noticed this in the series, but usually they twist their finger at the weight of this question. You are tense, realizing that only you see it.

But something nice was that you had the opportunity to interact somehow with your favorite characters.

over time, you began to have full-fledged dialogues with these turtles. They were comfortable, even though Leo and Mikey couldn't see you, and it looked like they were talking to the air.

But you didn't know yet that their obsession and desire to be with you was growing exponentially.

The fact that you are from another world was killing them inside, from which Donnie began to look for a way to solve this problem. He looked as obsessed as in the episode when he was playing games.

Surprisingly, Raph supported his idea.

and it was only a matter of time before you could interact in your world, and not just as a dialogue between a ghost and turtles.

#yandere tmnt #tmnt fandom #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #yandere rottmnt #donatello x reader #raphael x reader

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jessrambless · 11 months

Text

A guide for people wanting to get into Hermitcraft (from a person who has been here since season 6)

Watch season 8 first since it is nice a short. Short to see if you like it and watch one of the shorter povs

I suggest the following for season 8:

Pearl- She has a nice short pov and is new to Hermitcraft in season 8. You are experiencing it with her. Pearl is also Australian and as an Aussie myself I may be bias

Gem- She also has a short pov like Pearl. Also being new to Hermitcraft that season so you are experiencing it with her

Grian- He is a classic but shut up. It will be pure chaos just a warning. I first watched Hermitcraft with his pov in season 6. It was a lovely starting point

Iskall- He has a fun shared base with Etho and a messaging wall with signs. But his pov is really fun to watch and just makes me happy

Next watch season 7. It is lengthy but is the most Hermitcraft season of Hermitcraft. Also the plot lines. I have only watched Grain’s full pov of this but shush

I suggest watching the following:

Grian- He started a war and stole doors the entire season, what else do you want. Also maybe a bit bias since I watched him but yeahhhh

Etho- He just spends his time playing decked out. Then randomly mentions a server wide war he is apart of and slaps on a 20 second clip about it at the end of an episode

Scar- He has an awesome pov for the war that happened. Also the most baffled about the doors but has happy vibes

Mumbo- He has no clue what is happening but it is so funny. Also he is the guy that made Grain steal doors the entire season

Then watch season 9. Even though I made you watch all these seasons to get to the current season because I am so nice

I would suggest to watch these people, it was hard to decide:

Pearl- She is a cleaning lady that joins a war aginst the monarchy and loves soup. Also she has a trash store, literally. I may be bias on this

Zedaph- He is just simply so funny to watch. He doesn’t know much about what is going on and his only goals are to finish the Zedvancements and annoy Tango

Tango- He lives in a cave, I mean decked out. Fun pov if you love techy stuff and also has no clue what is happening

Grian- He makes a robot, forms a rift between 2 servers, starts a resistance assistance and more. Rock dad that was hard to pick between him and Impulse, so also watch imp

Then go back and watch season 6. But I only watched Grain’s pov but at this point watch your favourite hermits from all the seasons you already watched

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft 6 #hermitcraft 7 #hermitcraft 8 #hermitcraft 9 #pearlescentmoon #geminitay #grian #iskall85 #goodtimeswithscar #tangotek #zedaph #ethoslab #impulsesv #mumbo jumbo

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pomplalamoose · 5 months

Text

DILF Luke headcanons / story draft pt. 5

🩵modern day AU🩵

A/N: Hellooo! So while this is the official last part of these headcanons/ this story draft, it's definitely not my last post about Dilf Luke.

I simply wanted to finish fully exploring the potential confrontations and misunderstandings I had in mind before going back to more lighthearted content such as "dating Dilf Luke" or "spending Christmas with Dilf Luke"

I hope that's in your interest as well, have fun reading and thank you so so much for your support🫶🏻🩵

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

• never before have you seen him like this and his intensity scares you

• theoretically speaking you know his anger isn't directed at you but the way he literally has you cornered, without a possibility to escape or change the topic, makes it rather hard to focus on that

• your mind is racing

• should you play along or expose your friends scheme?

• if only you knew all the details they came up with

• "Can we- can we go home to talk? I mean, to your house?"

• his knuckles around the steering wheel momentarily turn white before he sighs and reaches over you to strap you in

• for a moment you consider telling him that you are well able to put the seat belt on yourself but decide otherwise

• his cologne smells heavenly

• while he carefully merges the car into traffic, you discreetly take out your phone to text your friend

• since you doubt you'll get a chance to talk to them once you arrive, now is the time to collect as much information as you can

• "remember that one awful ex of yours?" comes the answer "yeahhhh I told my dad about him and said you're back together, so sorry xxx"

• pulling a face you start to reply

• but before you can hit send or see what else they have to say, Luke snatches the phone out of your hand and slides it into his breast pocket

• you gasp looking up at him, momentarily angry

• "I won't allow you to converse with that...person any longer, do I make myself clear?"

• you blink confusedly but quickly understand he thinks you were texting your supposed boyfriend

• you are about to say something, but then, remembering his car rule, decide to quickly clamp your mouth shut again

• better to not make this worse until you know what's going on

• the rest of the way you sit in silence

• Luke is fuming

• though now, that he has you safely by his side to keep an eye on you, he's slowly growing calmer

• the added fact that you called his home your home is nearly able to overshadow what his child oh so casually shared with him over breakfast

• yes, he can admit that perhaps his proceedings were somewhat hasty

• he definitely overstepped a line by taking your phone away

• and he's aware he scared you again

• with his hand on your thigh he can easily tell how tense you have grown

• slightly turning his head he sees how hard you're holding on to the straps of your bag and inwardly heaves a sighs

• you must believe he's angry at you; by now he knows you well enough to tell

• he doesn't want you to be afraid

• not of him

• NEVER of him

• at the thought he feels his anger bubbling to the surface again

• he doesn't understand how you could ever involve yourself with that imbecile of a man, while simultaneously failing to see him

• he's right there, right in front of you!

• there's so much he could offer you instead

• what does the other have that he doesn't?

• "owww"

• your little sound brings him back to the present and immediately he feels overwhelmed with guilt

• he is no better than your abusive so called "boyfriend"

• "I'm so sorry, sweetheart", he hears himself say; the words simply slipping out and away before he can stop himself

• but "'s okay", you whisper and release your bag to shyly touch his hand

• he called you sweetheart again

• your heart is racing and as your skin makes contact with his you suddenly feel rather light headed at your own boldness

• quickly you pull away again

• Luke restrains himself from ordering you to place your hand right back on his

• where it belongs

• you don't dare to ask him to return your phone

• not when the two of you eventually make it to your destination

• not when he helps you out of the car to lead you inside

• not when you sit down on the couch in the living room and make eye contact with your friend lingering near by

• especially not when his next course of action is to send them away

• you don't know what to expect, the anxiety making you feel slightly sick to your stomach

• you can't decide on what would be worse, an interrogation or a stern lecture like last time?

• but then he sits down close to you and when he speaks his voice is the gentlest it has ever been

• he isn't angry at you, just so, so worried

• who is that guy his child told him about?

• how did you end up in such bad company?

• are you really dating him?

• was this really your choice?

• or did he force you, leave you no other choice?

• does he hurt you?

• is he the reason you're not coming to visit anymore?

• is he systematically isolating you from your family and friends?

• you can tell him, you really can, he promises not to judge

• he'll take care of anything you ask if that's what you need to break free from this

• everything to make this easier for you

• he knows he's not your father, but surely he will never get a single night's sleep ever again knowing you're in a potentially dangerous situation

• please, break this off, he doesn't want for any harm to befall you

• overwhelmed you don't know what and how to respond

• at some point the situation got out of hand and there are so many things that you feel need to be taken into consideration

• so many questions

• it has never been more obvious how much Luke cares and how genuine his worries for you are

• but how does he view himself in relation to you?

• as a father figure or as a friend...or as something more?

• it would be easy enough to ask but you fear you won't get an answer, that he'll abruptly shut you out once more

• but won't he do so anyways when this conversation is done and over with?

• so far he always did after sharing an intimate moment with you

• confessing your own feelings isn't an option either, you promised your friend not to

• and from what you were told it would only elicit the same reaction

• in the worst case scenario it would lead to a rejection and a broken heart

• but even if it came to this, you could still uphold your friendship with your best friend, couldn't you?

• you wouldn't abandon them just because their father rejected you

• or maybe they want you to keep your secret for another reason entirely

• maybe they lied to you too

• this is such a mess and slowly the uncomfortable reality dawns on you then; there's no way out of this without someone getting hurt

• still you don't know what to say

• you look up at him and the pleading look in his lovely blue eyes; he truly is upset

• it would be easy, a relief even, to speak out, you think

• it would only be fair

• but continuing to lie would mean keeping your promise to your friend, saving face in front of their father

• in your panic you decide on something as close to the truth as possible

• "I- I don't know what to do"

• it's so hard to hold his gaze and when it inevitably softens even more, you start to cry

• alarmed he immediately reaches for you but you can't- you just can't take his comfort for a situation that is purely made up

• sobbing you push his arms away, desperate to ignore the way his brow furrows in...hurt?

• "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry"

• your words only serve to confuse and worry him even more

• what are you sorry for?

• what is it?

• oh won't you tell him?

• he'll make it all better if only you'll let him know what's wrong

• he'll keep it a secret too, nothing, not a word will leave this room if that's what you're afraid of

• ignoring your defensive gestures he cradles your face in his hands

• something in you breaks

• you have to tell him

• you just HAVE to

• how could you ever enjoy his caring attention when all it's based on is a lie?

• you'd rather have a broken heart borne out of honesty

• will your friend forgive you?

• will they understand?

• you hope so; the damage is done

• unable to calm down, with tears still spilling from your eyes, it takes you a while to stumble through your explanation

• Luke grows very quiet

• the fact that he's listening so intently, trying to understanding what's going on, only hurts you more

• you're horribly ashamed

• and even though you try to describe the situation from your point of view as best as you can, you feel like it will never be enough to make up for everything

• "I promised my friend not to tell you about my feelings for you", you say, "they are afraid it's going to end our friendship when you send me away."

• softly shaking his head he takes your hand in his to gently wipe your cheeks

• you gave him a lot to think about and eventually he will need to have several very very serious talks with you as well as with his child

• but right now he wants you to stop crying

• he is not angry at you

• in fact he's mostly relieved you're not dating that ex of yours again

• he tells you how thankful he is for your honesty; he sees and respects the courage it took to tell the truth

• it will all be okay, he promises

• you will always be welcome here at his house

***

• "so, do you think that means he likes me?", you ask your friend after a few weeks went by

• they give you a look

• "you're driving me insane, do you know that?"

• they never told you about any details of the several long conversations they had with their father

• you are able to take guesses though and understand they don't want to share certain aspects, especially not those that might involve their dead mother and you

• still it'd be a lie to claim you aren't exceptionally curious

• first and foremost because their father didn't comment on your feelings towards him in any way

• and like it so often is the case you are left guessing

• maybe he does return your feelings but isn't acting on them because of his child

• or your age difference

• or because he doesn't know where to start and is embarrassed by it

• or maybe he doesn't want to enter another relationship because of his late wife?

• maybe he needs more time

• possibly he doesn't return your feelings and just didn't tell you to avoid hurting you and his child

• "Not knowing what's going on is driving ME insane! Didn't you say you want him to be upfront about how he feels towards me?", you ask

• your friend agrees

• "and I told him too", they say

• falling quiet you look at each other, when suddenly you can tell they made up their mind about something

• they'll let you in on a secret

• as it turns out their father didn't tell them anything regarding his feelings either

• but they know him well and it's obvious to see there's something going on

• they thought a lot about your descriptions of his behavior around you; the presents, his touches, his protectiveness, the pet name, the lingering gazes, all the offers to stay over, to drive you home, to help you out...

• "you were right to ask me if he's like this with all of my friends", they say "because he isn't"

• he isn't like this with anybody

• expect with you

• "do you mind?", you ask

• your friend admits they aren't sure

• they want to be happy that their father seems to be slowly moving on but like, how weird is it to think he'd be fucking their best friend?

• at your loud protest they have to laugh but quickly grow serious again

• "I'd be glad if it's you he goes for", they say "and not some woman I don't know who will want to be my new mom. But that doesn't mean I'm fully on board with this."

• you understand; of course you do

• they explain that they want their dad to be happy

• and if he is happy with you then so be it

• they absolutely don't want to witness any displays of affection between him and you though

• you are only allowed to move in once they have a chance to move out

• you will most definitely not call yourself their step mom, not even as a joke

• they won't give you relationship advice and don't want to hear any stories whatsoever involving their dad (okay, maybe they'll make an exception for the funny ones)

• but under no circumstances will they tolerate you spending more time with their father than with them

• they were your friend first

• it's a promise you give easily and without second thought

• never would you want to trade them against anything or anyone, not even their father

• they visibly relax at that

• "yeah well you can go have him then but I'm not helping you", they say with a shooing hand motion

• as relatively easy, even if not very happy, you feel about your current situation, Luke isn't able to say the same

• already over a month has passed since you dissolved into tears in front of him and admitted to your crush

• here you were, presenting yourself on a pretty silver platter, basically throwing yourself at him

• and still he didn't do and hasn't done anything about it, made immobile by his past experiences and fears of the future

• as different, as gentle, as you are from his late wife, he's afraid

• he's a coward

• what if he looses his temper?

• what if the ugly parts she used to coax to the surface so easily show themselves when he's with you?

• would you ever be able to look at him the same again?

• no, you'd probably leave him and it'd be his fault

• and he'd have to watch you go; he knows he would

• he can't let himself grow as dangerously and unhealthily possessive as he used to be

• you deserve a better version of him, even in the end

• and, most importantly, what would his child say?

• he could never make them choose between him and you

• what if they'd loose their dear friend?

• how could he ever make up for it again when similar things already happened so many times?

• and yet, despite it all, there's another part of him, a part that's raging against every single one of his reasons

• it's screaming at him to take the opportunity

• to take you

• you asked for it

• you are here

• he just needs to reach out, what is he waiting for

• now more than ever he notices things he was blind to before

• how you look at him when he opens the door to greet you, when he enters a room, when he sits across from you at dinner or beside you in the car

• he notices your eyes growing bigger, the blush on your cheeks and how you unconsciously worry your lip when he speaks to you

• he should have kissed you senseless

• long and hard and ruthless

• oh how he would've liked to, how close he came...and then felt like he'd be taking advantage of you if he did

• you were so distraught, so helpless, it wouldn't have been right

• and now, stuck in his inner conflict, paralyzed, he's watching you float away and out of his grasp as he keeps trying to convince himself it's better that way

• you'll find someone else

• someone your age

• someone as innocent as you

• someone that will treat you well

• someone without desires as dirty as his

• he tries to imagine how a perfect partner for you would look like

• but every time he does, it's like he's being devoured alive by all consuming jealousy

• he has to ask at least, he realizes

• he has to ask if you'd still take him, want him, if he made a move now?

• even over a month later?

• it will be easier to move on then, to say goodbye, with a no for an answer

(to his immense surprise you'll prove him wrong and say yes, but he doesn't know that yet)

#luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker x you #luke star wars #dilf luke #dilf luke skywalker #luke skywalker fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars #fanfic #star wars headcanons #luke headcanons #headcanons #star wars a new hope #star wars empire strikes back #star wars return of the jedi

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