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#when I was a kid I loved it so much that I memorized the whole first movie and most of the second and I can still quote most of it today
mytardisisparked · 1 year
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Look, all I’m saying is that they really just don’t make movies like National Treasure anymore. Like this movie is about two dudes in a van who beat a team of highly trained criminals to stealing a valuable document from a high-security museum, by sheer accident get an antiques expert to come along with them to keep the document safe, get involved in several major chase scenes, escape the FBI twice, find a massive treasure, get someone else arrested for their crimes, and then give the treasure back to museums before yeeting out to do it all over again in the sequel. No one was doing it like them. And the thing is, by all accounts, this plot is ridiculous and the dialogue is ridiculous but it works unbelievably well because the writers and actors committed to the bit. This movie is campy and absurd and it’s also one of the most fun and quotable movies of my early childhood because the creators embraced the camp and did it with such a sincerity that it’s a goshdarn delight to watch. Top all of that off with a soundtrack that went WAY harder than it really needed to, excellent atmosphere throughout the whole film, and visuals that were darn near perfect and National Treasure becomes a classic. I’ve been chasing the high I got the first time I watched it my whole life. What a movie.
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teaboot · 13 days
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This is gonna sound rather conceited but I feel like it highlights an issue we have in Art.
I'm good at art. I've never had a hard time making art. I started using crayons before I could walk. Painting, Beadwork, sculpture, sketching, stippling, whatever- once I have a feel for the material, it doesn't take long to start doing what I want with it. It's been a common theme my whole life.
(Y contrast I'm awful at things like dancing, performance, sports, etc- in all things there is balance, right?)
Now, I've taught myself to use so many artistic mediums now that I KNOW how to most efficiently integrate them into the brain database. Once you really *understand* a material, it's much like memorizing the layout of your house, or flexing a muscle, or something in-between- it becomes PART of your brain in a way I cant quite articulate. But to get there involves just fucking around for a bit doing nothing in particular.
And I've found, especially in group settings, that nobody seems to be able to see you make something badly and leave you alone. Even if you say you're fine, you don't want help, you're happy, you're having fun, it's fine, they gotta ride your ass and hover.
I was at a class the other day for something I hadn't done before. The medium was one I've never used, so once the instructor told us the basics I started experimenting with weight, gravity, texture, viscosity, saturation, temperature, etc. The instructor had given enough info to know what was dangerous and what was safe, and beyond that I just wanted to absorb what I could about it.
And no insult to the instructor, but they kept checking in. Which was fine the first few times.
But then, without asking me what I was trying to do, started giving tips. That I told them I was grateful for but didn't really need just yet. If I had a question, I'd ask.
But they kept coming over. And touching my shit. And manipulating my project. And touching my hands. And using my tools. Without fucking asking.
And this happens every time. EVERY TIME. And by now I know the best way to get them to fuck off is to make something way beyond their expectations so they know I'm capable, then go back to doing what I want.
So I did. I wanted to keep having fun and learning, but instead I made something beautiful that I really didn't want to make, and wasted my time, and really didn't learn what I wanted to learn at all. I knew the formula to create a beautiful thing, so I followed that formula the same way I have a hundred times before, and didn't get to try anything spontaneous or ugly or exciting, just so I could be left alone.
And I know when I was a kid, I was aware aware people saw me puttering alone on something ugly assumed I had a special issue and treated me like I was stupid because of that. (I was neurodivergent.) And at at time I knew that I could do a neat trick for them like a trained pony and they'd go, "Oh, surely they aren't defective if they can do something like that!" And piss off.
But what if I hadn't known how to do that?
What if I hadn't been talented, or "special"?
What if I'd been just any other average kid trying to learn, and I couldn't pop something pretty out of my ass to get them off my back?
My problem my whole life has been that I haven't been allowed to make anything ugly in peace. I'm capable of beauty, so I have to make beauty, or get stepped on. And once people see what I can do, they get loud about it. "Look at this! Look what they did! We all know who the best is, don't we?". And that used to feel good, but it's tiring.
And how many people like me just wanted to play? Just wanted to have fun and experiment? Who were having fun with no goal in mind, or just took longer to learn, who gave up because of all the obnoxious helpers breathing down their neck with no way to shake them off?
How many of us are made to feel defective because we aren't doing things beautifully?
I have a lovely piece of art I didn't want to make.
I think I'm gonna frame it.*
(*I think I'm gonna burn it in my yard.)
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pucksandpower · 20 days
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Lover
Charles Leclerc x Reader
Summary: the little (and not so little) ways that you and Charles show your love for each other
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You’re in the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you listen intently to Charles’ mother give you her famous tiramisu recipe step-by-step. “Now, this next part is very important,” she stresses. “You’ll need one cup of granulated sugar to add to the mascarpone filling.”
“Got it, one cup sugar for the filling,” you confirm.
Pascale chuckles warmly. “I’m so glad Charles has found such a lovely girl who wants to learn my recipes. He’s always loved my tiramisu since he was a little boy.”
You smile, touched by her kind words. You and Charles have been together for a year now, but it still makes your heart flutter to be so accepted into his close-knit family.
“It means so much to me that you’re sharing this recipe with me,” you tell Pascale sincerely.
You chat with her a while longer, going over some of the trickier steps and getting tips on how to best soak the ladyfingers. Finally, you have the full recipe memorized and are ready to give it a try.
“Okay, I think I’ve got it now. Thank you so much again, Pascale! I really appreciate you taking the time to walk me through this.”
“Of course, chère! Let me know how it turns out. Charles is a lucky man to have such a thoughtful girlfriend,” Pascale says warmly before hanging up.
You grin, eager to get started. You know tiramisu is Charles’ absolute favorite dessert and you want to surprise him with a homemade version tonight after he finally comes back from his latest race.
Humming to yourself, you gather the ingredients — mascarpone, eggs, espresso, cocoa powder, and of course, the sugar. You double check you have everything and preheat the oven so the ladyfingers will be perfect.
As you start the recipe, you feel a rush of excitement. You follow each step meticulously, Pascale’s voice guiding you in your mind. You carefully separate the eggs and beat the whites to stiff peaks. When it’s time to add the sugar to the mascarpone filling, you pause.
Now, which one was the sugar again? You look between the two identical jars of white powder, second-guessing yourself.
Shoot, you should have labeled them.
After a moment of hesitation, you decide on the bowl on the left. Yes, that must be sugar, you reassure yourself. You mix it into the silky mascarpone filling until it’s perfectly combined. Once assembled, you spread the filling over the ladyfingers and cover it with a final dusting of cocoa powder.
It looks absolutely beautiful. You did it! You made Charles’ favorite dessert completely from scratch. You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he takes the first delicious bite.
You glance at the clock as you clean up. Charles will be home soon. You carefully store the tiramisu in the fridge to chill until after dinner.
Right on time, you hear Charles’ keys in the lock. You hurry to greet him, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “I missed you!”
He grins and nuzzles your neck. “And I missed you, ma belle.”
Over dinner on the balcony, Charles tells you all about the race and his ambitious one-stop strategy under the Suzuka cherry blossoms. You listen attentively, asking questions and laughing at his dramatic reenactments.
Finally, it’s time for dessert. “I have a surprise for you,” you say with a playful smile.
Charles’ eyes light up. “Oh really? Do tell!”
You bring the chilled tiramisu to the table, along with two small plates and forks. “Ta-da! I made your favorite, with your mom’s secret recipe.”
“No way, you’re kidding!” Charles exclaims. He takes in the layered dessert with delight. “It looks incredible, mon cœur. I can’t believe you did this for me.”
You blush happily as you dish out servings for both of you. “I hope I did it justice. Your mom walked me through the whole thing over the phone.”
Charles takes a big eager bite, closing his eyes as he savors it. “Mmm … it’s absolutely delicious,” he declares after swallowing. “Seriously, this is amazing. Here, you have to try it!”
He holds out a forkful toward you. You accept it into your mouth, immediately bursting into incredulous laughter. “Oh my god, this is so salty! I definitely screwed up somewhere. You don’t have to eat it!”
But Charles just grins and takes another hearty bite. “What do you mean? It tastes perfect to me.”
You stare at him in confusion. “You can’t actually like this, Charles. It’s like I poured the entire salt shaker in by accident.”
“No no, it’s great! The best tiramisu I’ve ever had,” he insists. Seeing your disbelief, he takes your hand from across the table. “Really, Y/N. I love it because you made it just for me. With love. That’s what makes it so special.”
You feel your insides turn soft and melty at his words. “You’re just saying that to be nice,” you protest weakly.
He shakes his head. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Because ...” He pauses, looking into your eyes sincerely. “Because I’m completely in love with you, mon amour. I’d eat a thousand salty tiramisus if it made you smile like this.”
You can’t help the joyful laugh that escapes you. “You’re such a hopeless romantic, you know that?” You tease him.
“Only for you,” he flirts back with a playful wink.
You lean across the table to kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, the adoration shining in his green eyes leaves you breathless.
Maybe he’s right. It doesn’t matter that the tiramisu is an utter fail. All that matters is that you made it with love.
And that’s the sweetest taste of all.
***
It’s been a few weeks since your salty tiramisu mishap. You and Charles laughed about it afterwards, but you were still determined to make him something special with your own two hands.
So you decided to take up crocheting. It was trickier than you expected, but you persevered, watching YouTube tutorials and getting tangled in yarn for hours.
Finally, after a month of work, you’ve produced your first wearable creation — a sweater for Charles.
It’s an oversized style, cream colored with red racing stripes across the chest. You did your best to evenly stitch the rows, but there are gaps in some places that cause the stripes to waver drunkenly.
The sleeves are several inches too long, dangling adorably over Charles’ hands when he tries it on. And the neckline gapes open no matter how he tugs it.
But none of the flaws matter to Charles. His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning when you present it to him.
“You made this? For me?” He asks as he eagerly pulls it on.
You nod, suddenly shy. “I wanted to make something special for you, even if my skills are still .... developing,” you admit with an embarrassed chuckle.
But Charles is beaming, admiring himself in the mirror. “It’s perfect! Seriously, I love it. This is the best gift ever!”
He engulfs you in a big hug, sleeves flopping over you. You hug him back, relieved and happy he appreciates your efforts.
From that day on, Charles insists on wearing the sweater constantly, even styling it with whatever eclectic pants he decides to wear on race weekends.
You try to discourage him — the holes along the hem are getting bigger from snagging and the neckline is truly unsalvageable.
But Charles won’t hear it. “Are you kidding? This is my new lucky charm!” He declares. “I have to wear it for every race now.”
Sure enough, he starts a winning streak whenever he dons your handmade sweater, even though it’s quite a departure from the fitted shirts and designer hoodies he previously favored, leaving his fans scratching their heads at the sudden change.
You watch in amused endearment as he proudly wears your gift for candid pre-race interviews and photo-ops. The overlong sleeves just make his exuberant gestures even more adorable.
Finally, a reporter works up the courage to ask him about the quirky sweater. “That’s quite a statement piece you have been arriving in each Sunday,” the reporter comments during a press conference. “What made you decide to wear it?”
Charles’ face lights up even more. “My sweater? It was handmade for me by my incredible girlfriend,” he announces, making you blush furiously from the audience.
“She worked so hard on it, even though crocheting is totally new to her. So I wear it to show how much I appreciate her and how talented she is,” he continues sincerely.
The reporters “aww” as Charles shows off the uneven stitches like they’re couture. “It’s my good luck charm now too! She put so much love into making it that I feel like I can’t lose whenever I have it on.”
He looks directly at you, eyes shining. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received, because she made it just for me. I’m the luckiest man in the world to be with someone so thoughtful and caring.”
You have to wipe away joyful tears at his heartfelt words. You never imagined your clumsy crocheting would come to mean so much to him.
But Charles wears that sweater for every race, no matter how tattered it gets. Because for him, it represents something priceless — your love.
***
You hum along to the radio as you stir the melted chocolate in a bowl. The rich aroma fills the air of your shared apartment. Today is Valentine’s Day and you want to surprise your boyfriend with homemade chocolate-covered strawberries when he gets home from training.
You dip the first plump, red strawberry into the silky chocolate, letting the excess drip off before placing it gently onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. One by one, you coat each strawberry, taking care to fully submerge them.
When the tray is full, you quickly pop one glistening strawberry into your mouth and slide the rest into the fridge to let the chocolate harden. As you wait, you tidy up the kitchen, washing the bowls and utensils used to make the treat. A glance at the clock on the microwave tells you Charles will be home soon.
The sound of the front door opening makes you grin. “Mon amour, I’m back!” Charles calls out.
You grab the tray of chocolate-covered strawberries and head towards his voice. “Welcome home! I have a surprise for y-”
You stop short, your throat suddenly feeling scratchy and tight. Your lips tingle oddly.
Confused, you lift a hand to your neck. Is this just excitement to see Charles? But no, your tongue is starting to swell now too. Your breathing becomes labored.
Charles rounds the corner. “Mon ange, what’s wro-” His eyes widen as he takes in your distress. In a few quick strides he is by your side, the tray clattering forgotten to the floor. “What’s happening?”
You wheeze, barely able to force out words. “Can’t … breathe …”
Charles sweeps you into his arms and runs for the front door. “Hospital. Now.”
You cling to him, each ragged breath a struggle. The world seems to blur and tilt alarmingly.
Then somehow you’re in Charles’ car, speeding down the street. One of his hands grips the wheel while the other clutches yours tightly. “Just hold on, stay with me. We’re almost there.”
You try to respond but only manage a choked gurgle. Black spots swim across your vision. A feeling of detachment steals over you.
The car screeches to a stop outside the emergency department entrance. Charles lifts you from the passenger seat, calling for help. There is a flurry of activity as a team of doctors and nurses rushes over with a gurney.
You are barely aware of being wheeled into an exam room, too focused on trying to pull air into your lungs. A mask is fitted over your face, dispensing blessed oxygen. An IV is inserted into your arm.
The medical staff works quickly, asking Charles questions as they begin treatment. Antihistamines. Steroids. Epinephrine. The medications slowly start to counteract your reaction. The vice-like tightness in your chest and throat gradually lessens.
After what feels like an eternity, you are able to take full breaths again. The room comes back into focus, no longer spinning. Charles sits at your bedside, clutching your hand, his handsome face creased with worry.
The doctor examines you, nodding with satisfaction as your symptoms continue to improve. “It appears you had a severe allergic reaction. We’ll run some tests to determine the cause.”
Charles looks stricken. “But how? What could have possibly …” His gaze falls on your swollen lips. “The strawberries,” he whispers.
You nod weakly. It had to have been. You’ve never reacted to them before, but an allergy can develop at any time.
Charles smoothes back your hair, distress pouring off of him. “I’m so sorry, mon cœur. I should have been there with you.”
You squeeze his hand. “You couldn’t have known. I’m okay now thanks to you.”
He just shakes his head, unconvinced.
The testing confirms it — you are now mysteriously allergic to strawberries. The doctor gives you an EpiPen prescription and strict instructions to the fruit in the future.
After several more hours of observation, you are finally discharged from the hospital with an exhausted Charles supporting you.
The sun has long since set on what was supposed to have been a romantic Valentine’s Day. Instead, you spent it swollen and terrified in the ER.
Back home, Charles tucks you into bed, insisting you rest. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror — puffy-faced and red-eyed — and cringe. Some Valentine you turned out to be.
You reach for Charles’ hand again. “I’m so sorry I ruined our evening. I wanted it to be perfect but instead I ended up scaring you half to death and forcing you to rush me to the hospital.”
Charles silences you with a gentle kiss. “Not another word, mon amour. You have nothing to apologize for. All that matters is that you are safe.”
He caresses your cheek, looking at you with such love and tenderness it makes your heart ache. “You could never ruin anything. You are the light of my life — my everything. No Valentine’s Day is complete without you.”
You feel yourself tearing up. Even after the ordeal of this evening, he still looks at you like you hung the moon.
“You’re still the most beautiful Valentine I’ve ever had, you know that? A little swelling can’t hide that.” Charles brushes away your tears and pulls you close. “Rest now. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
You nestle into his embrace, letting his warmth and steady heartbeat soothe you. As you drift off, you can’t help but marvel at how lucky you are to have this man. Even at your puffiest and most distressed, he thinks you’re beautiful.
No matter what surprises life throws at you, with Charles by your side you know everything will be okay. He loves you unconditionally — swollen lips, hospital visits, and all.
***
“Close your eyes,” you say to Charles as you lead him into the living room.
He laughs and covers his eyes with his hands. “What are you up to, mon amour?”
You grin, though he cannot see it. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
You guide him across the room, hands on his shoulders. He shuffles along, peeking through his fingers.
“No peeking!” You scold, and he squeezes his eyes shut again, smiling.
You position him in front of the coffee table. “Okay,” you say. “You can open your eyes now.”
Charles drops his hands. On the table sits a large gift-wrapped box with a massive red bow on top. His eyes go wide with surprise and delight.
“For me?”
You nod, bouncing on your toes excitedly. “Happy birthday!”
He pulls you into a tight hug. “You are too good to me, ma belle. Thank you.” Leaning down, he captures your lips in a sweet kiss.
You swat his shoulder playfully. “You don’t even know what it is yet! Open it.”
Charles grins and turns his attention to the present. He carefully unties the bow and lifts the lid on the box. Inside sits a sleek red bomber jacket with the Ferrari logo embroidered on the chest. He runs his fingers over the leather appreciatively.
“This is beautiful,” he murmurs.
“Look on the back,” you prompt.
Charles turns the jacket over. Across the back, in bold white letters, it reads: DADDY.
His eyes go wide again, and for a moment he just stands there gaping at the jacket. Then his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses to the floor in a dead faint.
“Charles!” You rush to his side, kneeling next to him on the plush carpet. Gently you pat his cheek, trying to rouse him. “Charles, wake up!”
After a few tense moments, his eyelashes begin to flutter. You breathe a sigh of relief as he opens his eyes.
“Wha … what happened?” He mumbles.
“You fainted, silly.”
You help him sit up slowly. He puts a hand to his head, still looking dazed.
“I had the strangest dream …” He trails off, glancing around the room. His gaze lands on the jacket lying nearby, and his eyes widen again.
“It wasn’t a dream,” you say softly.
Charles looks at you, lips parted in shock. “Then you … you’re …”
You furrow your brow in confusion. “I’m what?”
“Pregnant!” He exclaims. “We’re having a baby!”
Now it’s your turn for your eyes to go wide. “What? No! I’m not pregnant!”
Charles frowns, thoroughly bewildered. “But the jacket said … I thought it was your way of telling me we’re expecting.”
You can’t help but laugh. “Oh my goodness, no. The jacket is for a very different reason.”
He looks almost disappointed. “It is?”
You take his hands in yours. “I know you’ve been talking about getting a dog for months now, ever since you met Mimi.”
Comprehension begins to dawn on Charles’s face. “So the jacket …”
“Is for our new puppy!” You finish excitedly.
Charles’ face lights up. “You got me a dog? Really?”
You nod, grinning. “Really! I picked him up yesterday from the shelter. He’s the cutest little dachshund, white with brown spots. I’ve been keeping him at your brother’s so I could surprise you today.”
Charles whoops and tackles you in another ecstatic hug. You laugh as he covers your face in rapid, smacking kisses.
“This is the best birthday surprise ever!” He crows. “I can’t believe we’re finally getting a dog. And the jacket — it’s perfect!”
He grabs the bomber and shrugs it on over his t-shirt. It fits him flawlessly, the white lettering bold against the red.
Charles scrambles to his feet and rushes to the nearest mirror, twisting this way and that to admire himself. “I love it! Thank you, thank you!”
You stand and wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I’m so glad. But you should really be thanking your new baby boy.”
Charles turns in your arms and cups your face in his hands. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best girlfriend in the world?”
You grin up at him. “Hmm, I don’t recall. Feel free to remind me.”
“You …” He punctuates each word with a kiss. “Are …” kiss “The …” kiss “Most …” kiss “Thoughtful …” kiss “Loving …” kiss “Girlfriend …” kiss “In …” kiss “The …” kiss “World.”
You pretend to swoon. “My, what a sweet talker you are.”
He chuckles and kisses you tenderly. When you break apart, his eyes are shining.
“So when do I get to meet our new baby?” He asks eagerly.
“Right now, if you want,” you say. “We can go pick him up from Lorenzo.”
Charles pumps a fist in the air. “Yes! I’m going to be the best dog dad ever, just you wait and see.” He crouches down and coos, “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”
You pat his head playfully. “You’re a good boy.”
Taking your hand, he practically drags you out the door, babbling excitedly about names, beds, toys, and treats for the puppy the whole way to the car. Your heart swells watching his enthusiasm. You know that dog is going to be the most loved and cared for pup in the world.
When you arrive at his brother’s apartment, Charles bounds up to the front door ahead of you, unable to contain his excitement. Lorenzo opens it laughing, the wiggling brown and white puppy in his arms.
“Someone’s here to see you!” He says, handing the squirming bundle of fluff to Charles.
“Hello, hello!” Charles cuddles the puppy to his chest, his whole face alight with pure joy. The pup responds by licking every inch of Charles’ face he can reach.
Charles laughs delightedly. “Aren’t you just the sweetest boy? Yes you are!”
He looks up at you, eyes shining. “Thank you, mon cœur. This is the best gift I could have asked for.”
You lean in and scratch the puppy behind his silky ears. “Of course. Happy birthday, my love.”
As you walk back to the car, Charles cradling the puppy like a newborn, you know in your heart that your little family is one step closer to completion.
***
The race weekend after Charles’ birthday feels strange. As you wander through the Ferrari garage during free practice, Fred rushes over looking concerned.
“Here, take a seat,” the team principal says, grabbing a folding chair and positioning it behind you. “You should not be on your feet so much in your condition.”
You frown in confusion. “What condition?”
But the French man has already hurried away. Shaking your head, you continue walking. It’s a few minutes later that you spot Pierre.
“Hey!” He says, jogging up to you. Before you can react, he places both hands on your stomach and smiles brightly. “Wow, it’s hard to believe that little baby Leclerc is in there! I can’t wait to meet my niece or nephew.”
Now you’re really bewildered. You take a small step back from Pierre’s wandering hands. “What are you talking about? I’m not pregnant!”
Pierre laughs. “Very funny. You don’t have to hide it from me.” He winks and walks away.
When Charles finds you later, you’re still puzzling over the strange encounter.
“Everyone is acting so weird,” you tell him, explaining what’s been happening all day. "It’s like they all think I’m pregnant or something."
Charles frowns. “That is odd. Where would they get that idea?”
You shake your head. “I have no idea …”
Later, after the last practice session of the day, you wander into Ferrari hospitality for a quick cup of coffee. Carlos quickly spots you and makes a beeline over, cheeks flushed with excitement.
“I just saw the photos of Charles wearing his new jacket.” He says. “A mini Leclerc on the way, how wonderful! Congratulations to you both.”
“What? No, there’s no …” you start to protest, but Carlos is already walking away.
Charles comes up beside you, having overheard. “This is getting out of hand,” he mutters. “We need to clear this up.”
“I know!” You say. “I feel bad, they all seem so excited. They must think we’re hiding a pregnancy from them.”
An idea comes to you then. Turning to Charles, you say loudly, “Honey, why don’t we go introduce the baby to everyone? I know they’re all just dying to meet him!”
Charles catches on immediately, smiling slyly. “Of course! Let’s go get our little one right now.”
You nod, linking your arm through his. As you walk away, you hear gasps and murmurs behind you.
“They already had the baby? When did this happen?”
“I can’t believe they’ve been hiding it all this time!”
You have to stifle a laugh. Charles grins and squeezes your hand.
In his driver’s room, your puppy is napping contentedly on a plush dog bed. Charles scoops him up gently so as not to wake him. Cradling the pup, you both head back out to the hospitality suite.
Everyone turns to look at you eagerly as you enter. Carlos steps forward, craning his neck to see the bundle in Charles’ arms.
“Here he is!” You announce proudly. “Our baby boy!”
Charles turns so they can see the sleeping dachshund nestled against his bomber jacket. A shocked silence falls over the room.
“Wha … that’s not a baby!” Carlos splutters. “That’s a dog!”
You and Charles just shrug with matching sly smiles. “He’s our baby.”
As the puppy yawns and stretches in Charles’ arms, licking his chin affectionately, you know with certainty that your furry new addition will be showered with just as much love and adoration as you both share for one another.
Who could ask for anything more?
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— trickentine જ⁀➴♡ pt.2
pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader
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summary: after lord eros' silly little trick, you're now forced to deal with the consequences— more specifically, in the form of a lovestruck luke castellan.
warnings: tons of corny pick-up lines
genre: still very much a romcom
part 1
note: thank you, thank you! all your support for pt.1 means the world to me! really, i couldn't be more grateful 𖹭 i hope you think this brings justice to the first half 𖹭
─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───
“What do you mean you can’t do anything?” You suppressed the urge to shriek, settling for gritted emphasis instead. You crossed your arms across your chest, your foot tapping impatiently against the wooden floorboards of the Big House.
“Exactly what it means.” Chiron responded, looking at Luke with more amusement rather than concern.
“But he's under a spell,” You reasoned in disbelief. You might have spilled over your words while you explained the rundown to Chiron, but they were coherent enough to at least get that point across.
“It’ll wear off eventually, kid.” Mr. D downed an entire can of diet soda in one go before procuring another one in his outstretched hand. He snickered at the intent puppy eyes Luke was giving you. “That type of love magic won’t last long. Best to let it run its course than tamper with it.”
“But–” You wanted to argue before Mr. D stopped you. He pushed his feet up on his desk.
“Look, at least this proves that your boyfriend actually loves you.” He gave you a pointed look. What does that even mean? “Now, leave.”
You huffed indignantly, but decided against speaking further. You begrudgingly turned around and pulled Luke up by his arm, guiding him towards the narrow hallway that led to the foyer.
“When did I become your boyfriend?” Luke huddled closer to you, whispering as you made your way to the front door.
“You didn’t.” You told him plainly. You shook your head. “You aren’t.”
“Yet.” He responded, his tone a bit mischievous but his gaze sure and determined.
─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───
You leaned your elbows against the table of the crowded Arts and Crafts Center, your chin resting against the pad of your thumbs. You studied Luke with a contemplating gaze.
“I hit you with one of Eros’ arrows.” You told him. This was hardly the proper place to have this conversation, but the rest of the Aphrodite cabin practically hauled you to the building to begin Valentinkering? Valenmaking? (whatever in Tartarus they decided to call it this year).
“Well, I guess you could say I’ve been lovestruck by you.” He said, giving you a stupid little wink as he mirrored your posture.
“Gods, Luke. That was corny as hell.” You flushed almost as crimson as the container of beads in front of you. “Also, I’m serious.”
“And who said I wasn’t?” He challenged. He smirked against his fist, wiggling his eyebrows.
You snorted. “The fact that you’re under some valentine voodoo makes all your intentions questionable.”
“You wound me.” He feigned offense, pouting as he clutched at the fabric of his shirt above his chest. “To be fair, my train of thought has always been questionable when it comes to you.”
“On a more serious note, I do remember the whole arrow thing.” He told you, his lips pursed. “I don’t blame you; it was a complete accident. It just feels… odd.”
“Again: unimpressed.” You buried your face into your hands, the second hand embarrassment of his poor attempt at flirting was overwhelmingly potent. Besides, it was difficult not to react when he looked at you so intently, like he was trying to memorize every minute detail of you.
Your ears perked up, worried. “You feel odd?”
“No,” He shook his head. His expression was perplexed, maybe a bit incredulous too. “That’s the thing. I feel completely normal.”
“That is weird.” You agree. You wrap the string in between your fingers around his wrist, measuring it to his size. "Maybe it was just a prank?"
“No. If anything, it’s more like I can’t hold my tongue.” He shrugs. “I can’t help but say what I think.”
“Would that explain the flirting?” You tease. All cheeky, but with a hint of curiosity hidden beneath the humor.
He leaned in, smirking. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
You stare at him, tilting your head. He returns your gaze just as intensely, brown eyes fixed onto yours. He raises an eyebrow as if to question your silence. There was something magnetic between the two of you, pulsing and pulling you closer— maybe not physically, but definitely in other ways unbeknownst to you.
“Woah!” Percy exclaimed with an accusatory edge to his tone, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief and his palms raised as if to distance himself from you. “Respect for the children, maybe? Consider shielding my young impressionable eyes from this trauma?”
“Percy!” You squeaked rather uncharacteristically. Annabeth trailed behind closely, pushing a leg over the bench to sit beside you. You smiled at her, tugging her closer by placing your arm around her shoulders.
“Annabeth,” Luke called. “Trade places with me.”
Annabeth furrowed her eyebrows in confusion before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “No.”
“Come on.” He persisted. He leaned in, almost conspiratorial. “You know, the Stoll brothers have an extensive archive, and I think I may have heard word of them having that Rem Kolhaas book you've been raving about."
Annabeth stopped to consider the offer before ultimately conceding. She stood up from her seat. “That’s a big bribe for a small favor.”
“Know what prices to pay to win your battles.” Luke muttered as he sidled up next to you, grinning triumphantly. His fingers played with the hem of your weathered camp shirt. “Sacrifices aren’t much in the face of victory.”
“Did you just use a bad battle strategy as a flirting tactic?” Annabeth scrunched her nose in distaste. “Gross.”
"Done." You finish tying up the ends, letting the red bracelet dangle in Luke's line of vision.
"It looks so pretty, baby." He compliments you, holding out his wrist. You proudly put it on for him. "Not as pretty as you though."
You scoff. Both Annabeth and Percy imitate gagging noises.
─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───
The only time you ever truly left each other’s side were the few moments of reprieve before dinner where you’d returned to your cabins. The older campers insisted on making the meal a whole affair, complete with a romantic candlelit set-up and a string quartet to serenade everyone. Chiron decided to indulge the request and sent everyone back to freshen up.
“Have fun with your boyfriend?”
“Christ!” You jumped in your spot, turning around to see Eros laying on one of the bunks. His arms were tucked underneath his head, his smile suggestive and knowing.
“Lord Eros,” You bowed.
“That is not your shade.” He tutted, pointing to the tinted gloss in your hand. “Too summery for your complexion this time of year. Go for the pink one. He’ll go berserk.”
“Thanks.” You muttered, facing your vanity once more. You dabbed the product against your lips. You sighed as you inspected your make-up. Once more, he was right.
“You didn’t answer my question.” He shifted to his side, looking at you expectantly.
“Yeah, I guess.” You grumbled. You looked down, pretending to look for something in your drawer so he wouldn’t notice the blush creeping up your cheeks. Luke refused to leave your side the entire day— his fingers hooked around the belt hoops of your skirt in one way or another. He made a whole spectacle of it too: his big brown eyes tender, his wistful sighs, his shy grins, his playful winks.
“Good.” He clapped his hands. “Gods, the boy has had a crush on you for forever, you know. It was torture watching him pine over you. I can only take so much longing.”
You froze, staring at him through the mirror. He stared back at you.
“What?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” He sounded shocked; he was shocked. “You’re a daughter of Aphrodite, how could you not know?! That's like our thing!”
“Well, he hasn’t been obvious, has he?” You rebutted, flicking your wrist.
“Sis, I don’t know what reality you’re living in,” He sat up on the bed, “But that boy wouldn’t know subtle even if it hit him in the face.”
“But surely it’s just because of the arrows.” You rationalized.
“Nuh uh.” He wiggles a finger in the air to deny the accusation. “The arrows you used just accentuate pre-existing feelings. Not make new ones.”
A knock interrupts your conversation. You hurry to fix your hair, brushing it out of the way. Your hands begin to shake with giddy excitement. You feel your heart thrum strongly against your chest, almost wanting to burst out from the confines of your body and find its other half in Luke. Your smile eventually becomes hard to contain.
Eros beams at you, his pupils dilating into hearts again like it did this morning. He opens the door for you and pushes you out. “Have fun with lover boy. Mother sends her regards.”
Luke spins around at the sound of the squeaky hinges. He can't help but pull a hand out of his pocket, his palm lightly grazing his chest. He whistles. “Call me favored by the gods because I think I’ve just entered Elysium.”
“You’ve been with me the whole day.” You responded pointedly, breathless and in love.
“And yet you still manage to take my breath away.” He gasps when you rush into him, wrapping your arms around his nape.
“This is new.” He looks down at you, your noses touching. His hands fall naturally to your hips, his thumbs rubbing against the fabric of your dress. “But definitely welcome.”
You gaze into his eyes before pressing your lips against his. They felt pleasant and pliant against your own. You tugged Luke closer, your fingers twirling through his curls. His hands squeezed your skin. The kiss burned sweetly, almost as if it’s been waiting in anticipation to happen.
When you both separate for air, Luke gently grabs your hands from behind him. He wraps his fists around yours, placing soft kisses on your knuckles. “I’ve been waiting so long for that.”
“So I’ve been told.” You hum. “I figured I might take the first step.”
“Don’t worry.” He presses another kiss against your lips, short and sweet. “I promise to match your pace the rest of the way.”
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺
taglist: @ace-spades-1 @patitotodd @fandomthings-blog @bugcuti3 @liv1104 @mindflay3r
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hairmetal666 · 2 months
Text
He hates Steve Harrington, everything about him. His stupid, upbeat pop music. His tall fucking hair. His annoyingly bright clothes. His bullshit German luxury car.
Eddie hates that Steve's a good guy. Hates that he carried Eddie's broken and dying body out of hell. Hates that the kids love him how they do. Hates that he and Robin Buckley are the kind of best friends who might as well be siblings. Hates the way that Jonathan is back and Nancy is happy, and Steve has no resentment about any of it. Hates that he'll never, for as long as he lives, forget about six kids and a Winnebago.
And he hates, more than anything of all, the way he's always finding himself in Steve's bed. The way he falls apart when Steve is deep inside, the way he begs for more, pleads for Steve to wreck him. The way Steve treats him so good that it makes him sob.
Eddie hates himself for not being able to stop. For wanting Steve so much that sometimes he feels it as a visceral ache in the back of his molars. He hates himself for how little fight his dumb traitor heart puts into not being astronomically down bad in love with the guy immediately.
And none of this is supposed to flow from his brain to his tongue to out of his mouth, but Steve fucks him so good and slow--gives him the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life--that it all just slips out of the safe confines of his mind.
"I fucking hate you," he says. Or pants, more like, he's all flushed and sweaty and covered in come, not yet settled back to himself.
"W-what?" Steve stutters. He's standing at the edge of the bed, damp towel clenched in his fist.
True, full consciousness strikes then and he doesn't know what else to say. Steve's big eyes are wide and sad, and Eddie's brain is screaming at him to fix it, and isn't that just another thing that he hates?
"Steve. Like. Fucking look at yourself, man." He waves his hand up Harrington's perfect body. "You're the most beautiful fucking thing in the universe. And you--you embody like every fucking thing I'm supposed to hate with your money and your athletic ability, and your whole goddamn clean-cut All-American boy next door bullshit. And I--I keep ending up here when everything in me says to run away, that this--you--are too good to be fucking true."
And Steve, he's pinching the bridge of his nose, looking more than anything like he's trying not to burst into tears and this--this cannot be borne.
"I love you so fucking much." His voice cracks and he reaches out to circle his fingers around Steve's wrist, the one holding the towel. "I love you so much and I don't deserve even a second of it. Not a minute. Because you're Steve Harrington, you're--"
Steve presses his hand (he hates the the wide palms and long fingers, how they're perfect, how they hold him and comfort him and wring out pleasure again and again like it's nothing, like Steve's hands were made for making Eddie come) over Eddie's mouth. "Shut-up, Munson," he says.
"I fucking hate you too." There's ease in the way he says it, a lightness in his eyes. "I hate that you don't use conditioner. I hate that your van makes that turkey gobble sound every time you turn a corner, and you refuse to let me look at it. I hate how loud you play your music, how it makes my fucking skin shake. I hate when you forget to take the damn chains off your jeans when you put them in the wash."
Steve climbs into bed, straddling him, towel long forgotten. "You know what else I fucking hate, Eddie?" He leans down, ghosting his lips against the tip of Eddie's nose, skimming his mouth. "I hate that I've never loved anyone like I love you. I hate that I almost fucking lost you. I hate that we can't spend every minute in this goddamn bed, so I can memorize every inch of your skin, every sound you make, every single way I tear you apart, and all of the things that put you back together. I love you, Ed. Every fucking terrible part."
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ifwebefriends · 14 days
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My thoughts during “The Sign” [SPOILERS!!!!!]
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ID in ALT
More thoughts under the cut
So I think most of us can agree that this is the best episode of Bluey so far. It was so emotional and satisfying in ways that are kinda new for Bluey. It answered so many questions while giving us a few new ones. I’ve been waiting for this episode for months and it did not disappoint in any way.
This is just a Chekov’s firing squad of an episode. As in a lot of stuff that was set up in earlier episodes all pay off in this episode. I kinda understand why people love soap operas now lol. I will say that this episode was a tad overwhelming for me in the best way possible. As in I had to pause and rewind every 30 seconds or so so I could emotionally process what was happening before moving forward (but that’s a me thing). There was just so much going on and I’m happy about that.
Now onto individual thoughts about specific things:
The callback to Baby Race (“you took your first steps in that house!”) really got to me because Baby Race was the first episode of Bluey that I watched and it immediately made me fall in love with it so it just got to me.
When Chilli said “Frisky and I came up here as teenagers to…um…think,” my mind started racing immediately with “what the FUCK happened at the Lookout?” “Who hurt Frisky and/or Chilli?” And I’m just so curious about what made Chilli say that line like that but we’ll probably never know what happened.
So yeah that scene at the end when the music was playing and Bandit ripped the sign out of the ground and Chilli tackled him to the ground ABSOLUTELY CHANGED my brain chemistry y’all. I can’t articulate my feelings any more than that.
I know some people were upset that Brandy ended up getting pregnant but I thought it was great for her! I’m happy for her! And I think that even though she got what she wanted in the end doesn’t negate the feelings she had about her infertility earlier. But I think we’re all wondering who the father is and I don’t know if the show really needs to answer that.
The whole message of “we’ll see” in terms of if something is good or bad is such a mature message that I never really thought of like that so I will be taking that philosophy forward in life. Congratulations Bluey, you managed to teach a 22-year-old childless person something new and insightful about life that I don’t think I’ve learned from another show.
I want to know more about what Bob was going through and feeling and why he went to India, but again, we’ll probably never know.
I just love how the wedding photos were beautiful but imperfect. Like of course we’re not perfect and nothing will ever be perfect but it’s beautiful and worth remembering anyway.
So many little jokes and moments were so funny in a mature way (I.e. “are we allowed to do that?” And Nana thinking there was about to be a baby announcement) were just so funny and memorable.
I think some people would say it’s a cop-out to end up not selling the house after building it up for 2 episodes but I don’t know, I think it works. I think Bluey and Bingo learned a valuable lesson and Bandit (and Chilli kinda) learned it’s not always about making their kids lives “perfect” in their eyes. Also I’m just personally glad they didn’t end up selling the house and I also kinda like that it wasn’t entirely their choice to keep it.
On a more serious note I think this episode has some interesting commentary on like gender roles and gender relations in straight relationships. In this episode Chilli and Frisky (both women) have to deal with their male significant others pressuring them to move with them far away from what they know and love. In the end they don’t end up moving and the men didn’t seem to have like malicious or selfish intent with it, they were just kinda basing their choices off their jobs instead of what’s best emotionally for their loved ones. But I think it’s interesting to have this conflict where gender is kinda brought up in a way (“because your husband is making you”). It kinda plays into the traditional idea of like men are the breadwinners and the family has to move with them regardless of what they actually want. And this episode kinda like deconstructs that and says “no, it’s not always about the job or money, it’s also sometimes about connections and emotional attachment.” And I’m not saying that you should never move or whatever, but really weigh your options. I just thought that it was interesting that this episode kinda touched on that.
So yeah that’s kinda the main thoughts I had on this episode if you made it this far thank you for reading my rambles and have a good one!
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mooshywrites · 2 months
Text
What they’d be like as a dad
Bg3 men and fatherhood
Masterlist
Art Commissions
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
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Astarion ~
~ Astarion wasn’t sure he wanted to be a father at first
~ After all, kids require a lot of attention and affection, things he was still learning to give
~ So when he realized he was going to be a father, he was a nervous wreck for a while
~ Everything changed when he held his pale little bundle of blanket
~ After that, he was almost obsessive
~ His favorite was the toddler phase, he loved walking around and seeing your little one see discover everything in the world for the first time
~ He was a little too indulgent, though he’d never admit it. There was nothing his baby could point to that he’d say no to
~ Even if he had to steal it
~ In the evenings, you’d find him sitting in front of the fireplace, snuggled close with the baby
~ “I want to give you everything I never had and more”
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Wyll ~
~ Wyll was excited to be a dad and was very present through the whole process
~ He worked a lot, but made sure to spend as much time as possible with his kid
~ Even when he wasn’t home, he talked about the baby all the time
~ He told everyone who would listen everything new the kid had learned, proudly boasting about their accomplishments
~ His favorite part of the day was coming home from a long day as the Duke, being tackled by their clingy kid
~ He’d laugh and clean up, sitting with them to patiently hear about their day
~ He always brought home gifts for you both, little snacks or a new toy that had caught his eye
~ He was the perfect playmate, he loved making wooden swords and props to pretend
~ At dinner time, he made sure everyone got a full plate before he fixed one himself
~ Then he’d ask around the table, making sure to give his child undivided attention
~ “The highest honor I could ever receive is being called your father”
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Halsin ~
~ Halsin was made to be a dad and wanted a big family
~ In the end, he had a mixed herd of orphans he’d adopted, kids he’d fathered, and a few mystery cases
~ It didn’t matter if they were blood or not, he loved them all the same
~ Halsin’s a very patient dad, he loved to teach the kids everything he knew about the world
~ He memorized each of their favorite fruits, making sure to stop and gather them often
~ He loved when the herd gathered around him and begged him to turn into a bear, using him as a giant furry jungle gym
~ Those days usually ended in a big sleeping pile, all the kids snuggled into his soft fur
~ His kids were his entire world, and he knew each of their personalities well
~ It wasn’t rare at all for each kid to have a collection of whittled toys, each personalized to them
~ “Guiding you through life is my greatest joy and my deepest pride”
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Gale ~
~ Gale was nervous, but excited to be a dad
~ Tara was absolutely exasperated by the amount of questions he asked her, saying she was too old to remember how to raise a Dekarios
~ So he started researching instead
~ The two of you could have built an entire nursery with the parenting books he bought
~ He relaxed quite a bit after the baby was born, falling into fatherhood in a beautifully natural way
~ He loved sitting with your child and entertaining them, spending hours casting little spells
~ He made sure the baby never felt lonely, helping them sneak in all sorts of creatures
~ He loved when the kids hit school age and took interest in all of their hobbies
~ The house was an absolute mess of crafts and experiments, Gale never said no to exploring a theory
~ He was always a safe place for your kid to go to, he had the best listening ear and advice
~ “There isn’t enough time in the world for me to tell you how proud I am of you”
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adventuringblind · 9 months
Note
charles having a baby fever
Father Material
Charles Leclerc x Reader
Genre: fluff but also kinda smutty
Request: I saw this and my brain immediately went down the gutter. I appreciate you for this request 🙏 also my requests are open so send me things
Summary: Charles gets a case of baby fever and you're willing to indulge him ;)
Warnings: sexual themes ahead, not the whole thing but it's definitely in there. Talks of pregnancy.
Notes: I would be lying if I said I'm not a hoe for this man. Written in third person.
Masterlist
The following media is not intended for anyone below the age of 18. If your are under that, please do not interact with this post.
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Charles had managed to take notice of every child in the paddock that day.
He'd recently been noticing small things. Things like baby clothes, small children, family interactions.
He'd watched Sergio and Kevin with their kids. Seb had brought his family around. It was starting to get to him.
He'd be lying if he said he didn't want kids. Starting a family was always a dream of his. Something him and his wife talked about often. They just hadn't really tried for a baby.
He knew she was at their house. Waiting for him to come home with groceries. It felt peaceful compared to the life they lived during race season.
As he walked, he could pick out every family. Kids bundled up in their winter clothes. Adults holding them upright so they don't slip and fall.
He could hardly take it. He's never walked home so fast in his life.
She was in the kitchen when he appeared behind her in the doorway. She was prepping to make dinner.
Charles looked disheveled, out of breath. She was concerned and yet simultaneously turned on by his appearance.
"Are you alright?" She asked. Charles quickly came back to his senses. Dropped the bass on the floor and wrapped her in a hug.
"We should have a baby." He was looking directly into her eyes. His face completely straight.
She was taken off guard for a moment. Then, realizing the proposal, she started excitedly shaking her head.
Charles was waiting no time. Vigorously kissing her lips. Heavy but passionate.
She was giggling at him. "What are you laughing at?" He asked as he swiftly picked her up and set her on the counter.
"Nothing, I just find you adorable."
He was mumbling French into her collarbone and Italian into her chest. Letting his hands roam her body freely.
"You are so beautiful. Soon, you will become a goddess. Pregnant with our child." He cradled her face in his hands.
"Charles I swear if you don't stop teasing-" She couldn't get any farther as Charles practically ripped her clothes off. Now left in only her underwear.
He ran his fingers lightly across her now bare skin. Memorizing the feeling. Paying attention to the way she reacted to his touch.
His shirt and jeans were next. His lips only breaking away from her for a second. Her fingers begin tracing every line on his body. The way his chest was rising and falling in rapid succession.
“Mon Amour, shall we start here, then maybe move to the couch, then into the bedroom.” He’s voice is dripping with need. He is going to take her on every piece of furniture even if it takes all night.
Her brain was already turned off. The act of thinking to much with the feeling of his fingers worshiping her. She practically fell into him, humming her approval.
Charles lifted her for a second, her only remaining garment now tossed aside.
Then he took her on the counter, then again on the chair, the dining room table and the couch. Finally they made it to the bed where Charles made love to her softly. Her body trembling with every ministration.
Charles is the ‘king of aftercare’ as she likes to call him. Something he occasionally gloated about. Much to Pierre's dismay.
He grabbed a wet rag and a cup of water. Using the rag to clean off the bodily fluids that covered both of them.
She curled her body into Charles. Her head rested on his chest.
"I think you'll make a great dad." She mumbles. Charles laughs at the notion.
"Why do you think that Mon chère?"
"You just seem like father material, ya know."
"Guess I should learn some dad joke then." The two were both laughing now.
Basking in eachothers presence. Fantasizing about what life will be like with a growing family.
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darling-zain · 10 months
Text
✮ ↳ The Show Must Go On ↰
♡ yandere! actor x gn reader♡
tw/cw: slight obsession, nothing too detailed
authors notes: first work and i wrote this in one sitting...it's okay we're fine ♥ also i may have based him off of myself and i will probably do that with a lot of my ocs! my bad i'm just a theater kid who likes to write
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➼ yandere! Actor who first only knew you as one of the stagehands, always flitting back and forth behind the curtains.
➼ yandere! Actor who didn't even know your name until you got promoted to prop manager.
➼ yandere! Actor who never knew how every character that he played fell in love with someone at first glance, but as soon as you walked onto the stage and started giving out your orders, it was like the heavens had shone their light upon you and you only.
➼ yandere! Actor who was infatuated with everything about you. Your responsibility, your assured nature, the way you'd sternly correct him when he messed up his lines because he "should be reading off his script, not off my face".
➼ yandere! Actor who was always on top of his game, one of the best actors in his region, yet when you looked at him with your concentrated eyes it was like he was a rookie again.
➼ yandere! Actor who would be stuttering and tripping over his words on purpose just to get you to come up and read it with him, your warm body so close to his that he could almost taste the perfume you were wearing.
➼ yandere! Actor whose heart raced whenever you praised him, even a simple "good work today" would give him butterflies.
➼ yandere! Actor who knew that opening night was approaching, so he worked day and night to memorize his lines. The excited smile on your face when he was able to perform the whole dress rehearsal without flaw was something he'd never forget.
➼ yandere! Actor who, standing behind the curtain on the first day of their showing, suddenly started to shake. He's been in the industry so long that he forgot what it's like to have pre-show anxiety, and he doesn't even know how to deal with it. Suddenly, a warm hand is put on his shoulder.
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"You're shaking." You point out, turning him around to face you. "Why? Are you feeling alright?" You place the back of your hand on his forehead to feel his temperature. "You're not warm, so you're not sick..." You think about it for a second, looking him in the eyes with a warm smile. "Are you...nervous?"
Aurelian doesn't speak, instead, he just nods. He's ashamed of you having to see him like this, the Aurelian Yavuz, getting jitters right before the opening night of one of his most popular shows.
"Hey, look at me." Your voice is soft, yet commanding, forcing him to look into your assuring eyes. You place both your hands on his shoulders, gripping them firmly to help ground him.
"You've done this show countless times before, and we've read the script together so many times that it should be burned into your brain by now." He laughs slightly, a sign that your motivation is working.
"You're one of the best actors I've ever worked with, and one of the most dedicated as well. You've spent so many hours reading, fixing, and editing this performance so that it's just right and absolutely nothing could go wrong. Am I correct?"
He nods again, making you click your tongue.
"Use your words. Am I correct, yes or no?" Your firm tone makes it hard for him to disobey, especially when you look at him with those fierce eyes.
He gulps, taking a deep breath before responding.
"Yes, you're correct. I've done so much to make sure that this show is perfect, so I have no reason to be nervous." He stands up straighter and walks backstage, adjusting his costume in the mirror. "Plus, I know that you'll be watching, so everything will be okay~." He winks at you from the mirror, making you chuckle.
"Exactly. We behind the curtain will be making sure that everything goes smoothly, so all you have to do is go out there and do what you do best." The lights start to dim as the audience applauds. You pat him on the back and adjust his collar for him.
"The stage is yours, Auri." you nod at him as he takes a deep breath, walking out onto the large wooden stage to loud cheering. His voice booms through the stage, and soon enough, the show is over. The cast takes their final standing bow and walks back to their dressing rooms. Aurelius makes a beeline for the lighting booth where you are usually sitting; he bursts through the door backstage, only to find your seat empty.
"What...?" he looks around for any trace of you, but it's like you've disappeared. He takes a seat in your chair and waits for what seemed like hours to him because of how tired he was. 15 minutes after the show ends, he hears your voice from outside the door. he gets up to open the door, but as soon as he does, the door opens with a creak. There you are, standing in the doorway with a coffee in one hand and your bag in the other, looking up at him surprised.
"Auri, why haven't you changed? Everyone's already leaving, you should go too-"
"You weren't watching." He cuts you off, looking at you with cold, dead eyes.
You look at him confused, setting your bag down on the floor. "What are you-"
"Why weren't you watching?"
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laiiaaa · 11 months
Text
WHEN RAFE CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF YOU
Soft sounds of the waterfront waft in through the open doors to Rafe’s balcony, filling the room with a gentle breeze that flows through the loose fabric of the white button-up you snagged from the floor and leaving a chill on your skin. He lays in bed beneath you, his hips between your thighs as you smooth your hands over his warm, tanned skin and trace the love bites left over on his chest and collarbone. 
His hands stay on your thighs and at your hips, fingers dancing beneath the hem of your lace panties. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, smiling up at you to drink in the sight of your messy hair and swollen lips, a terribly love-drunk smile on his face. “I wanna stay like this forever, you know?”
“Yeah?” You lean down to lay chest to chest, arching your back as one of his hands smooths over the curve of your ass and rests at the small of your back. Your hands curve gently to cup his jaw, and you take in his flushed cheeks and hazy eyes before you hum into a kiss. “You wouldn’t get sick of me?” you ask, words spilling from your lips into his.
He scoffs. “Are you kidding? I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Oh, really?”
Rafe—rough around the edges, snarky little thing that he is—doesn’t know whether anything could feel as good as seeing that giddy expression on your face when he spills his heart on the floor. So of course, he can’t help but quip back “Really” as his hands work beneath what is oh so clearly his white button up, what with the fabric pooling at your arms and swallowing your shoulders. He can’t help it when his hands hold your firmer, pressing you tighter to him like it’ll bond you together eternally (he’s sure he’d be the happier one at that, even if you begged to differ). He can’t help it when, having your fingers trace along the contours of his face, trailing from between his brows to his nose and to his lips, he nudges your hand away just to steal another smile-ridden kiss from your mouth. 
He murmurs something sweet—“And if it ever were possible,” he starts, a near toothache ringing through his jaw that resonates so deep into his chest he can only call it love, “I’d cure it myself.” He almost wants to laugh the words away and clean that slate, cringing at the thought of being so…sappy, but there’s clarity in the grin you shoot back at him. The hands that were once pulling you closer relax in knowing you’re sticking around, and they soften to resume leaving invisible shapes in your skin.
“You’re such an idiot,” you giggle, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and pressing the slightest of kisses to that blessed place.
“Only for you—and I’m perfectly okay with that.”
“Even if I tell all your friends?” You drag one hand down his chest, and stop when you reach his heart. You swear it beats a little faster, a little stronger, a little louder when he’s with you. “Tell ‘em you’ve gone off the deep end?”
“You can tell the whole world whatever you want, baby—” his arms circle around you, as if trying to memorize to the finest detail what it’s like to feel the adoration flowing from his fingertips stick to your skin and leave you welded together— “It’s not gonna change how much I care about you.”
And with the way his lips press oh so gently against your temple, the care with which he pulls a blanket over your shoulders, the dedication that stays hidden in his words, you know he's honest. And with your breath against his skin, those quiet little hums of sheer comfort that reach his ears, he knows—without any words—that you believe him.
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seduzist · 4 months
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one more time
wanda maximoff x fem!reader
summary. a failed marriage couldn’t stop you both to have a fun night, right?
cw. a little angst, smut, g!p! wanda and reader are milfs lol, drinking, smut, dirty talk, degradation, basically porn with plot. i wrote this really sleepy when i wake up i will proofread, sorry.
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you liked to think of yourself as a great, great mother, and hardly someone would say the opposite, you only lets your twins eat candy on weekends, always do your best at birthday parties and were the most caring and lovingly as a mother can be without getting weird or overprotective. 
but on the last week you felt you really needed some time with adults, not that you didn’t loves with your whole heart every second you spent with your kids, but you really needed to have a casual conversation with someone who doesn’t believe in santa anymore, or that doesn’t ask you how much is 100 plus infinite, or you would lose it. 
so, when your coworker asked you to go for a coffee after your shift you thought twice about the idea of call your ex-wife and ask her if she could catch the twins after school and maybe take them to the park for an hour, it couldn’t be that bad, could it? that’s what you did.
kate bishop, the coworker who invited you, was very funny, it was clear that she was very nervous being by your side which you find cute and made you feel confident, but you just couldn’t enjoy the moment more than a little bit, you couldn’t see her as someone who could really make you feel anything, at all.
after all the talk you got back home frustrated, texting wanda if everything was fine.
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[you]
hey, everything’s fine? 
on my way to home rn
[wanda]
yep, we’re at the park 🛝
i’m gonna take them for some pizza 🍕🍕🍕
idk when we’re coming back but i let u know 
😉
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you laugh at wanda’s need to use so many emojis in every text, but thanked her in your mind to let you have more time for yourself, so when you got home you made sure to make it worth, you took a nice, long and warm bath and served yourself some wine, enjoying the complete absence of sounds of little steps running on the ground and the constant screams of “mom!” followed by a complaining about a toy or about it’s brother. 
it was very relaxing and relieving but you thought about how it would be when they got back and started the chaos all over again.
fortunately, that didn’t happen, when wanda got back to your house the twins were dead asleep in the car, she only had time to call you before you open the door and see her carrying both of their unconscious little bodies to inside, each one of them resting their head in one of her shoulders. when she got close enough you helped her, taking carefully Tommy in your arms, making sure none of them would wake up, and guiding her to their room upstairs. when you and wanda done putting them in bed and cover them up with a spider man and a batman blanket, you made your way downstairs silently.
when you turned around to take a look at her, suddenly you felt something that you didn’t know exactly what was it. maybe it was the alcohol running in your system - it’s been so long since you’ve got drunk - maybe it was all the frustrations and thoughts you’ve had about her the entire day, maybe it was your fertility period or the fact you didn’t have any sex for the last three months. but wanda looked so, so hot.
with a slight blue jeans and a black shirt, her casual clothes didn’t have anything special as well as her face, with the makeup she always wears, but there was something really different, it was probably in your eyes.
not that this really mattered, because you didn’t even remember how it started, all you could really memorize is how her lips felt against yours and how her hands felt running all over your body, reminding you of the times you were still together.
reminds you of everything, your first time at the bathroom of her fraternity party, that was inexperienced, desperate and hungry, made you discover a few things about her and about yourself. the first time after your wedding, when she made sure to be the most intimate, romantic and loving night you’ve ever dreamed about before the honeymoon. the make ups after a fight, rough, careless, wild, it used to be the most common in the last months of the marriage.
somehow you felt it all over again when you kissed, not knowing exactly how it started, but just like the first time, you were desperate for more.
wanda’s hands reached the hem of your pajamas’ shirt, the silk was thrown over the floor exposing your breasts, the warm skin being such a sight for her eyes, and she wasted no time in closing her mouth around one of your nipples, with both arms wrapped tightly around your waist.
you could feel your pussy almost dripping, it’s been long since the last time you had anything, but now wanda was right there, and she could give you everything, her mouth on your breast felt good but you craved more.
“i want you, now.” you whispered, putting your hands on her cheeks and gently bringing her up for another kiss, in a desperate attempt to make her understand how much you needed her inside of you, but wanda never failed to that before and the cocky smirk she gave you definitely showed she was not about to let that be the first time.
soon, you were sat naked at the counter of your kitchen with her body between your legs, taking off her black shirt and taking just a second or two to admire her body, perfect just like you remembered, her perky breasts begging to be touched, but both of you were so eager. wanda looked like she didn’t had sex in a while as well as you, she was rock hard without much stimulation and when she put her jeans down along with her boxers, your mouth watered at the sight.
looked a little bit bigger than you remembered and made you feel scared for a moment, you knew that would hurt despite the time without it, but a small part of you wanted the pain.
“i missed you so much, y/n.” wanda said, a little breathless, catching your attention to her face again. her strong hands pulled your legs around her waist and her throbbing cock made contact with your center.
you both moans at the contact, so needy for each other, wanda takes one hand to her cock, jerking it off before positioning at your drenched opening, making sure to look at your face while sliding the head in.
the woman’s eyes lightened up when you opened your mouth and let out a quite loud moan, beating your lashes at her with doe eyes, begging her to fuck you without saying a single word, and that’s what she did.
putting a hand above your mouth to keep you quiet and the other holding your thigh to keep you in place, she started moving her hips, thrusting forward and making you let out moans that she would die to hear but this wasn’t the time. your nails sunk into her back at the painful feeling of being stretched out by her shaft, but still you enjoyed it.
“didn’t you missed it? being stretched out by me, hm?” her husky breathless voice in your ear sounded sinful and dirty and you immediately shaked your head as yes, letting out another moan that was muffled by her palm “you’re so tight, fuck, i forgot how tight you were.”
after her last inch entered you, which you take proud of being able to take without asking her to go slower, she takes her hand out of your mouth, immediately kissing your lips while your pussy adjusted her size, her tongue slipped inside your mouth, you tested like red wine and your hands find its way to flood her breasts, you felt her hard nipples against your palms and wanda had to break the kiss to let out a little moan at that, but soon her mouth were on yours again and her hips were moving.
the sensation of her cock going in and out of you was like heaven, her heavy breath against your lips while she tried to kiss you and swallow your moans was so, so intoxicating, she was all over you and you didn’t want this to end.
“you feel so good, you’re so good– fuck, wanda!” you did your best to whisper these words instead of screaming them at the top of your lungs, but at every thrust of her hips her cock reached deeper inside of you, stretching your insides in a delicious way.
“you missed being my little slut, didn’t you?” she said against your lips, her pupils so dilated to the point the green in her eyes almost disappeared. you agreed with your head, scared that if you tried to say something it would be too loud and wake the twins who still sleeps safe and sound in their room.
when her movements became messy and desperate, she brings one hand to your pussy, stimulating your clit in circles with two fingers and that’s how you knew she was close, you closed your eyes, feeling your own orgasm coming, the knot on your stomach getting tighter as wanda’s fingers became faster, as well as her cock inside you.
“cum for me.” she breathed out against your lips and you happily did.
your back arched and your eyes rolled in your head while your shaking legs pulled wanda even closer, if that was possible, the tight of your pussy around wanda’s cock while you came on her made her almost cum inside you, but she couldn’t and she knew, so she did her best to hold it until you finished.
when the last drop of your cum coated her cock she took it out of you, making you feel empty but the sight of her jerking off and cumming all over your belly while calling your name was enough to please you for now.
both of you panted heavily, unable to speak for two or three minutes, wanda rested her head on your neck, while you caressed her hair slightly and for a moment it didn’t felt like a mistake, it felt like pure love again.
wanda grabbed a napkin across the counter to clean your belly and took you to the couch, sitting comfortably by your side and then was your turn to rest your head on her shoulder. your breaths were still heavy and your legs weak, your sweaty bodies fitted each other perfectly.
“we have to put our clothes on.” wanda said after a while, and you agreed, but none of you moved.
the situation would probably be awkward for a lot of couples, but wasn’t for the two of you, maybe it was the intimacy you get after 8 years of marriage but it sounded just like casual conversation, except that there’s no clothes and no inhibitions between you.
“we’ll never do this again, this was an only time thing.” you said calmly, looking up at her.
“yeah, an only time thing.” she agreed, but if you wasn’t so tired to read her eyes you would know that deep inside she wanted nothing more to be with you again.
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lunasfics · 7 months
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Ghost of You - Jason Todd
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summary: In which Jason Todd does what he thinks is best, and you’re left to pick up the pieces he left behind.
pairings: Jason Todd x f!reader
warnings: mention of canon typical violence, angst, cursing
word count: 1k
a/n: i would like to apologize in advance for this one 😭😭 i was in an angst type of mood, i hope you like it!! - luna <3
reblogs are appreciated!!
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You didn’t sleep most nights. 
Sometimes you felt the ghost of his fingers trailing lazy patterns on your arm the way he used to love to do. Sometimes you’d dream that you were in bed and he was there sleeping next to you. In those dreams you took the opportunity to watch him, memorizing every detail of his face. Every scar. The small movements of his nostrils as he breathed peacefully. You’d remember the feeling of his rough hands holding you so gently. Like he was terrified of breaking you. 
But then you’d wake up to the cold empty space beside you, nothing but unwashed linen sheets filling the space because you didn’t want to wash away the scent that remained. The scent of him. 
Sometimes, when you’d first wake up, still groggy from your slumber, you’d think Jason was in the kitchen fixing up your favorite breakfast. Like he always did on lazy mornings. Only he was never there. Not anymore.
It was stupid. It was so stupid. The way you still thought about him. The way he just gave up. The way he thought he had control over what was best for you. 
And you were heartbroken. But you were also angry. 
So, so angry. 
You’d told him. You’d told him over and over that being with him was your decision, that risking your safety was never even a question for you when it came to being with him. You knew you’d always turn out okay, as long as you had him by your side. 
Yet he never seemed to listen. 
It’s been two weeks. Two weeks of replaying that night over and over in your head. It was torture. 
“Jason-” 
“No. Do not even try to justify anything that just happened Y/n.” 
You paused. He never called you by your first name. Never.  You tried not to focus on it. “I’m not. But you need to know that it wasn’t your fault-” 
“Are you fucking kidding me? Of course it was my fault, do you honestly think Black Mask would just kidnap you for fun? Are you that naive to think that you were not put at risk today because your boyfriend is the fucking Red Hood?” He dragged a hand over his face, he was pacing. His hands were shaky. You could have died. It would have been his fault had he not arrived when he did. 
“I am not naive, Jason. I am a grown woman and I knew damn well what I signed up for when I fell in love with you. I’m not afraid of this. I’m not afraid of anything as long as I’m with you.” 
He laughed dryly, “Bravery and the power of love won't keep you alive, Y/n. I can’t lose you. I can’t be the reason you get hurt.” 
“You never have been and you never will be. Just– Please. I need you to understand that.” Your voice cracked, your eyes welling with tears, what he didn’t understand is it hurt you so, so much to see him in pain. You couldn’t lose him either. And he was constantly risking his life, you’d almost lost him far too many times. 
He turned away from you. He couldn’t see you cry right now. He needed the shred of strength he had left to protect you. For good. 
He turned to you, “I’ve been a selfish piece of shit my whole life. And I can’t– Fuck. I can’t keep putting how I feel first at the expense of your safety. You deserve a normal life. Not whatever the fuck I dragged you into.” 
“Jason. What the fuck are you saying right now.” You didn’t want to believe it. 
He didn’t look at you. He knew the moment he looked into your tear-filled eyes he’d take it back instantly. He’d apologize, bring you you to bed and hold you, peppering your face with sweet, gentle kisses. He’d drag you right back into the cycle he’d trapped you in.
You wished he would. 
“Jason.” 
“I’m leaving, Y/n. You need someone who can take care of you. Who can give you what you deserve. I have to let you go.” 
“Are you shitting me? I want you. No one else. This is not your decision to make.” 
He started walking towards the door. “I’m sorry.”  He refused to turn around, his eyes filling up with tears as he walked further towards the door, his hand on the doorknob. 
“I want you to know that right now, you, Jason Todd, are hurting me more than anyone else ever could.” 
There was a pause before he turned the doorknob, opening it and stepping out. “You’ll survive.” 
That was the last time you spoke to him. 
Over and over. The memory replayed in your mind. Every night you dreamed of him, you dreamed he never left, that he had put aside his own pride and just listened to you. That he had just let you be there for him. 
You had no idea where he was. You were constantly looking at your phone. Constantly. Waiting, hoping that you’d get a call from him, telling you he was sorry. That he wanted to come back to you. That you’d make it work.
But it never came. And deep down, you knew it wouldn’t. 
So every day you tormented yourself with dreams of him. Thoughts of him. Remembering the feeling of his arms snaking around your waist as you made your morning coffee. The feeling of him plopping his tired body onto yours after a long day, running your fingers through his hair as he laid his head on your chest. 
No thermal or weighted blanket provided the warmth and the security that he did. No pillow you hugged felt as comforting as hugging him did. No comedy you watched was as funny as when you watched it with him. No jacket you owned was as warm as the one he would drape over your shoulders while you were out together and it started to get cold. 
You lived with constant reminders that he was gone. Constant echoes of his previous presence. 
You could only hold on to the ghost of him that remained in your cold apartment. 
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nor-4 · 23 days
Text
Taking care of Sick Geto
Geto Suguru x Reader
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"Geto let go I'm gonna pee" You said as you tried shaking geto off, it's been around 8 hours ever since both of you found out that geto is sick.
After that it's like you are trapped in a cage since geto wanted to hug you all day. "Nooo.. Can you hold it for a minute?" he murmured in your chest as he held you waist a bit tighter which makes you wanna take a pee more.
"I'm sweating bullets, it's already hot and you decided to hug me.." You tried reasoning as you try to shake of from his arms, "Not my fault you looks so huggable" He said as he readjusted his arms almost hitting the bowl from the night table that is filled with soup from earlier morning that you made so the medicine will be more effective for him.
Once geto re adjusted you took the advantage to get up from the bed which made the bed rise a little.
You and getou's shared house is not too fancy like those houses you find on pinterest, but sure is cozy and warm that makes you feel really welcome. A type of house that you will be comfortable to have a sleep over with, pantries filled with foods and snacks that geto sure will be nagging about when both of you are out for grocery, those neat looking kitchen that those Asian moms would love.
The living room that kids love because of those consoles and games that geto own, it's a safe place for both of you when all you just wanted was to hug each other while watching.
"I think I'm gonna die.." Geto said looking at you as he was sitting on the floor on the door of the bathroom like a kid as you do your business on the bathroom, "You're not don't worry." You said as you are scrolling through your phone.
"what's taking you so long? Are you shitting?" he nagged you again while giggling, his voice is a bit deeper, more raspy and airy than his normal voice. You always tease him about that because you said that he sound like a kid Justin bieber.
"Maybe you wouldn't know." You shrugged as you wash your self up and flushed the toilet really quick so geto wouldn't even try to take a peak, "Ewww it stinks" Geto acted as he pinch his nose as you walk by.
"Stop acting, you won't act like that later on when you couldn't breath on your other nostril." You said as you headed down stairs to make both of you a meal, this will be the third time that both of you eat. It's very rare for both of you to eat more than three time a day, you guys only did this when either both of you are sick.
Geto followed you like a lost kid as he walk lazily around the house, "I'm not feeling vegetables right now" he complained as he sat down near the stove so he will still be near you.
"Then don't eat, might as well make your cold worse." You stated as you started chopping the vegetables as geto sang lazily to the song you played, it's a habit of you to play music while cooking. Geto remembers the time when he wasn't sick he would dance around just to annoy you or just to enjoy the time with you.
You remembered the time where geto memorized the whole choreo of water by tyla just for you to watch him dance the whole song.
Your mind didn't have the capacity of a phone nor the smartest person on earth. But you remember every detail of it, you remember how much he made you so happy, how much effort he did just to make you laugh after a very busy and stressful week.
"God you're so beautiful.." Geto whispered as you looked at him seeing him looking at you with agape mouth, "I think I should marry you for the 100 times... Noo it's not enough, I should marry you on every chance I get. You know if you are sick, like really sick that there is no other cure than for me to die. I would rather die happy that I get to be loved by you."
Geto said this the time you said yes to him being your beloved of your life forever. He still remembers every detail even the tone he had while saying this, he always have a deja vu everytime he says this it was a good deja ju. A euphoria of the time where he vowed to never make you feel unwanted, unloved or anything that will make you sad. The time he vowed to love you in every aspect of your life, the time he said gratefully that he will love you even as a worm.
"You're being-" you are about to talk but geto keeps shushing you, "Oh girl now let's not ruin the moment." he sassed as you giggled while handling him the plate.
"I'd rather eat dick than eat vegetables all day.." Geto said raising his eyebrows on the vegetables, as you laugh smacking the sickness out of his system.
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delulu-sushi · 3 months
Text
Mikey-Kun Wedding/Proposal HC!!!
Sry I haven't posted recently ;(. Requests r open!!! (Feel free to ask for any anime, I'll see what i can do) Future Motorcycle racer Mikey ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Enjoy!~~~~~~~~~~~~
✧ From the moment he saw you, he knew he wanted you to be his, his Sano
✧ After you guys have been together for a good while, he'll definitely start thinking about marriage and having a family
⋄❥ Although tbh, he would talk about it all the time, every year
✧ The first thing he'll do is slowly try to incorporate talks of marriage and family to see your reaction, he wants it to be a surprise
✧ When you answer with a smile, he knows, you're ready
✧ He will go to Mitsuya the next moment to get EVERYTHING ready - the man hasn't even proposed yet. He takes Mitsuya's opinion on color, designs, etc. bc ur Mitsuya's #1 consumer
✧ He will be super fidgety and start internally screaming when it's time to propose, but he knows you won't hurt him
✧ He loves you so much don't reject the baby boi
You make him the happiest man in the universe
❧ He calls all his friends to boast the new "Fiancé" status, and makes sure you're there to see his reaction
❧ He will immediately start planning the whole wedding scene and talk about it with you -> Late night bed talks
❧ He will start calling you "Wife" in his head, and blushes a little every time
❧ Midnight rides to all your favorite places
❧ He wants an extravagant Wedding to make it the most memorable day of your life
❧ He doesn't release the engagement to the public, and doesn't like gathering attention to his personal life. Fans are one thing, media is another.
❧ He will travel the world with you, enjoying your last months before becoming wife and husband
You went from his companion to princess to queen to empress to goddess, you're his everything
❥ The wedding is extravagant, and he makes you feel like a diamond
❥ A lot of white, but some hints of blue and purple
❥ LOTS of dessert, he has a dorayaki on the cake
❥ He looks his most handsome, hair combed how you like it, and a tailor maid outfit by Mitsuya that you absolutely adore. You feel proud that this is your man
❥ The moment you enter, his eyes land on you immediately, and he can't stop staring. The way your dress embodies your heavenly beauty, the way your hair enhances your face, and how the hickey he gave you last night peeks out a bit, despite the make up artists' best efforts to hide it
❥ He never leaves your side. He's not clingy, but he wants to spend every moment with you.
❥ Everyone is happy for you two.
❥ He sheds a tear when you get married and happy cries when you two are alone
❥ He has the first dance with you, in a beautiful garden, under the moonlight, lights shining on the two of you
❥ He records the entire thing and shows it to your kids when they are getting married
He's your world
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Kinda wrote this half-asleep... Would you guys like me to write this as a scenario?
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harusaki-hugo · 3 months
Note
Hello! I just saw your requests open i wanted to ask how would yandere: sanzu, hanma, ran and kakucho (separately) react to reader that is also yandere for them if not more? Thank you 💗🫶
Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Characters: Sanzu, Hanma, Ran and Kakucho. Genres:Yanderes Note: Ah, yes red flags trio. Kakucho is green flag forever in my heart, shut up. also, i don't know if you want hcs or short story so i make hcs. I might overdo this T-T
Sanzu Haruchiyo:
Sanzu is quite a picky at choosing his lover, he wants, no, he needs someone who similar to mikey. If Mikey his king, you either his queen/monarch or someone he tolerates.
The only reason he dates you at first mostly because of amusement, just some pawn for him to play. He accepts your confession because he thought you are easy to manipulate and he need it to stay out of police ranges because, well, mucho.
And boy he thinks he hit the jackpot because you are the most loyal and dumbest pawn he ever sees, you agree with everything he said, go along with everything he does, hell, you even turn your eyes away from the crimes he does.
At first, he thought that he keeps you around because you are a perfect alibi to use but slowly, he starts falling in love with you. like deeply in love, his amusement turns into obsession, from pawn to his new king/queen/monarch.
He now become extremely loyal to you, he become nicer and touchier, and do everything that you want. He will kill anyone who dare looking at you or has slight interest on you. He already claims you and there's no way he going to let you go.
But he never expects that one day you present him the head of the girl who insult his scars. Smiling proudly as you hold the head, a crazed look on your eyes that rival, no, more than him.
He now realizes that from the start you date him not because you found him interesting, no, you worship him more than he worships you. If he thinks of you as king/queen/monarch, you see him as a god.
You been killing all the people around him without even leaving a single trace or suspicion. You take care of his problem before he even knows about it, you make a shrine of him, you have a room with his pictures, you memorize his schedule, you know where he goes because you already put a chip on the mask he always wears.
Sanzu has mixed feeling about this, but he knows one thing, he f*cking love you.
Hanma Shuji:
For Hanma, you are just some random kid who always stalking him. Following him everywhere he goes and secretly take his picture, he thought that you were some gang informants or something, so he let you follow him around.
He thinks it's cute and adorable that you think he didn't know you follow him, the way you try to hide around the corner or act dumb. It's flattering that someone give him this much attention, and honestly, he starts catching feeling. Just a bit. Okay, like a bit too much.
When you not around following him, Hanma can't help but feel jealous and angry that you not there to pay attention to him. But if you appear again next day, his mood brightens that even kisaki weird out by it.
He became obsesses with you to the point he follows you back home, before you can close the door, he appears behind you and force himself inside your house. Telling you that next time you can just talk to him as he walks in, but his words die on his tongue when he sees that your whole house filled with his pictures.
There is a shrine with his picture and the things he throws away, hell, even the shirt with blood. He then sees that there's wall full of his past enemies that mysteriously disappear after losing a fight with him. All of them are now dead.
Oh, oh~ if he like you before he loves you now. He realizes that you are perfect for him. Someone who worship him to the point that you willing to be his slave. To do everything he order you. Surely you won't mind if he stays here, right? After all, why bother take a picture when you have the real one in front of you~
Haitani Ran:
You are Rindou friend who somehow always following the younger haitani around. Rindou sometime bring you back to home to hang out with, so ran thought that you are his brother side chick or something. Turn out you and Rindou are really good friend, you two meets when you stay at his side when he blacks out from drinking too much and you two just click from there.
Ran don't really care as long you didn't hurt his brother but his opinion on you changes when you buy him favorite Mont Blanc from expensive bakery in Tokyo. "They our friend now, rin." Ran say as he munches on the dessert.
Day by day, Ran start getting interest on you. You like the perfect friend, you know when to come so you didn't disturb his sleep, not making too much noise, buy him food every time you visit. He starts thinking, is this how it feels having a lover? He slowly getting obsesses with how you treat him and start falling in love with you and now he the one follow you around that even Rindou can't hang around with you without Ran sitting in the middle.
Luckily Rindou know that his brother smitten with you, so he uses this chance to leave you with his brother while he goes out drinking. So, like now every time you come to their house, rindou leave you with Ran. This becomes routine, heck, Ran even drag you with him to his room for a nap every time he feels like it, treating you like his personal teddy bear. So, you guys like, dating now? Yup, dating.
"You know, i never told them anything about you." Rindou exclaim one day, "I never told them you name or your sleeping schedule. Thinking back, when we first meet, they know my name already."
So, Ran and Rindou decide to follow you home and break in when you not home because they can. And much to their surprise are that your room are filled with Ran pictures from age 10 to the time they two being send to juvenile detention center and after they get out. There also a list of his enemies and half of them mark red and dead. Ran then realize that you been stalking him ever since he safe you from those bully long time ago, no wonder you look familiar. Usually, he will get creep out with this thing but it's you, the one he obsessed with. If anything, he feels flatter and proud that you love him to this point.
So next day you visit him, he told you how he loves you more now and want to stay with you forever.
Kakucho:
You, Takemichi and him are childhood friend. Well, more like he like you and Takemichi is wingman since he lives near you. Before he got in accident, he plans on telling you his feeling, but he lost contact with you after he is sent to orphanage. He thought that like Takemichi you forgot about him too, so he often stays away from you after finding out that you still live in the same house.
The only reason he finally sees you are because Izana getting annoyed of him disappear every day just to stalk you from far, so taking a lead he kicks Kakucho toward you when you walk down the road. Imagine how happy he is when you call out his name in surprise when you see him, you didn't forget about him even after he got a scar on his face.
Izana who wants the best for his servant allow him to take one month off from Tenjiku so he can spend time with you. And boy, he uses those days off wisely. Catching up with you, taking you out and make sure that he stays close to you, so you won't leave him again.
What make him happier that you confess to him, that you too like him since you two a kid. So now you two dating, and boy, he become more clingier to the point he drags you around even in Tenjiku meeting which Izana kick him.
One day you told him that you have business outside Tokyo, and it take a week for you to return. So Kakucho drag Izana to your house with excuse that someone might break in and that someone is him. He just wants your shirt because he misses you.
Imagine Izana and Kakucho reaction when he sees that your room are filled with pictures of him. Pictures of him and you, torn up pictures of him with what seem like Takemichi, pictures of him at orphanage, pictures of him with Izana. Turn out you been stalking him since forever, you also manage to find the orphanage he in and stalk him there.
Izana found a list of Tenjiku enemies on your wall, half of marked dead and half being torture. If Izana didn't approve you two reaction he is now. Which make Kakucho happy because his king approve his lover.
Next week you come back home, Kakucho greet you happily and told you how proud he is with you and how he loves you.
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livwritesstuff · 4 months
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‘tis my birthday today (it’s gotta be one of the worst birthdays to have, we don’t need to talk about it) anyways that’s where this is coming from
(also i’m not trying to imply that jan 1 is eddie’s bday. i wouldn’t wish that on anybody. besides, he is def a weirdo february aquarius)
The second half of the calendar year is nothing short of pandemonium for Eddie and Steve and their three daughters.
Moe’s birthday in late July kicks it off, almost immediately followed by Steve’s birthday in early August, then Hazel’s in September. Robbie’s birthday comes mere days after Halloween, and from there they dive headfirst into the bedlam of the holiday season.
Much to Eddie's relief, they all made it to yet another New Year's Day, and while the girls are definitely feeling the end-of-winter-break blues, Eddie welcomes the reprieve in festivities, brief as it may be.
His own birthday is up next – though not for another month.
He’s really not a birthday kind of guy. Never had been.
He loves making birthdays exciting for Steve and their daughters (they have a whole slew of traditions and everything – there’s names spelled out in pancakes involved; it's a very big deal), but his own…not so much.
It managed to fly under the radar for the past few years, but since this year is the big Five-Oh, he knows Steve won’t let him get away with that again.
Eddie has a complicated relationship with his birthday. When he was younger and the weight of Birthday Importance was at its peak, he never really celebrated the way other kids got to, and now, as an adult, he doesn’t know how to feel the things you’re supposed to feel about your birthday. 
Steve does a good job, despite Eddie’s weirdness. 
His favorite, Eddie thinks, was the year Moe was born, when Steve had managed to catch him off guard by renting a tiny cottage up in Maine for a few days.
“Moe or no Moe,” Steve had asked, “I’ve got Rob and Nance on standby.”
(They’d taken Moe. She saw snow for the first time. It was amazing, and people who don't want to involve their kids in stuff are a bunch of fucking weirdos).
Steve gives him a letter every year – handwritten on notebook paper and folded into whatever cheesy card he picks out.
Eddie keeps most of the letters in a fireproof lockbox along with all their passports and social security cards and birth certificates (look – Eddie doesn’t fuck around with priceless shit), but he keeps the most recent one – the one Steve gave him for his forty-ninth birthday nearly a year ago – in the top drawer of his bedside table.
He has it pretty much memorized at this point.
It says:
Ed! (with an exclamation point and everything – god, does Eddie love him)
49.
Holy shit we’re getting old.
Writing this is making me think about all the ones from the beginning, when I’d write about our future together even though we didn’t have a damn clue what we were working towards for a while.
I think we’re in it, man. Crazy, right?
(The ink color suddenly switches from blue to purple)
Sorry for the color change. Hazy decided she needed a blue pen immediately. Hope your vision hasn’t gone totally to shit and you can still read the purple.
Anyways, since I have you hostage reading this, I’m gonna take the opportunity to discuss you, because you don’t let me in real life most of the time.
You are gorgeous. Best looking face I’ve ever seen. I wonder how much time I’ve lost off my day just staring at you (actually, not a loss. I take that back)
You suck at puzzles – I know that sounds bad, but it’s great for me. I need that to rub off on Moe because she’s getting pretty good and that’s gonna be a problem for me.
You make me laugh so fucking hard every day. I’m praying the girls get your sense of “elevated” humor or whatever you like to call it
You’re so fucking smart, Eddie. I count myself lucky for it endlessly
You are completely 100% you all the time. I’m still working on that I think but I’m getting there because of you. I’m glad all that shit we went through didn’t take that away from you.
the BEST dad. Can’t believe I didn’t say that sooner. Not to brag but our kids are turning out pretty awesome (can’t go around saying that too much though it’ll go right to their heads and then any power we have left goes out the window)
You’re probably the best person I’ve ever known. Don’t think I’ll be forgetting what a catch you are any time soon, because I won't.
Thank you for loving me even all these years later. My life is better every day that I’m with you.
We’ll keep things quiet this year. Don’t get used to it though. Next year’s gonna be a rager.
Love you always!
- Steve :) ♡ ☆
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