Medlar Recs - Tumblr Posts
. when the heart is sour.txt
separate! quackity x reader | wilbur x reader | jschlatt x reader
summary: they are not jealous—it’s called being annoyed—or whatever the fuck else they feel when some nobody flirts with you.
notes: 200 follower special!:)
QUACKITY
definitely a passive-aggressive jealous person. not towards you, but towards the person who decided to chat you up.
it was at the streamy awards after party, the party being hosted by some other big group of streamers. (misfits) and you guys went together, as quackity wanted to catch up with some old friends.
you tagged along just in case he decided to drink and you needed to drag him back to the hotel; the idea of him going by himself making you uncomfortable. it wasn’t the fact you didn’t trust him, nor have you thought he would cheat on you. but it was pure concern, and it was something that he grew to adore.
“are you sure you want to come along?” he asked for the millionth time, his gaze soft on yours. a small smile tugged on his lips, his cheeks flushing red when your hands came up to fix his necktie. “you don’t have too, y’know—i won’t be long if you don’t come.” he reassured through a gentle whisper. his hands came to rest on your hips, a careful squeeze as he awaited an answer.
but you spared him the scolding, catching his gaze with yours. “at this point, i might think you’re trying to convince me not to come.” you joked, rightfully earning a quick gasp from him. “it’s fine, alex. i’ll be fine, plus i’ll get to catch up with my friends also.” you fixed his suit, dusting off any seam that stuck out.
“i’m just making sure, mi amour.” he caught your hand in his, bringing it up to gently kiss your knuckles.
the start of the party wasn’t so bad, as everyone was still coming in. familiar faces greeted you both, friends of friends introducing themselves or striking conversations.
you later found yourself talking with your own group of friends, separated from quackity long before. the night was still young and there was no intention of leaving anytime soon.
but the more people that flooded in, the more chaotic it started to get. you didn’t touch a drop of alcohol that night, and it was starting to feel like a rush. you watched people you recognized walk in and others who you couldn’t name.
but no matter how much people crowded into the building, quackity still had a view of you from afar. staying within a radius to make sure you’re fine.
“y/n! this is my friend, vale.” your friend came to your side, and immediately you caught sight of a kind face.
“nice to meet you.” he offered a hand to which you accepted; but before you could pull away, he brought it up to gently kiss your knuckles. “aren’t you a sight for the sore eye, huh?” he complimented through a confident grin.
your gaze flickered to your friend, who stood there just as shocked as you were. you were stunned, to say the least. “i’m flattered, really, i am.” you stammered. “but i have a boyfriend.” your laugh was nervous, and you watched vale raise a brow.
before he could speak, you felt a hand come to a rest on your back. “am i interrupting something?” quackity came quick, his tone almost stern when talking. “so sorry if i was, but ugh—baby, i have a headache, can we go?”
there is one thing to note about quackity, he never calls you baby. babe, occasionally but never the contrary. the moment he mentioned a headache, you were quick to leave the party with him.
the moment quackity saw the male come to you, he was fine with it—the moment he kissed your hand, the same one he kissed hours before—that’s when it became a problem. it was enough to sober him up on the spot.
“i never seen him get so pissed that easily.” wilbur commented through a light laugh, the moment he watched quackity storm to your side.
the car ride home was silent, your hand resting on his as you focused on the road. “is your head doing any better?”
“did he do anything else to you? say anything?” quackity gently squeezed your hand. “i don’t actually have a headache.” he added with a mutter.
you haven’t realized but the way he put his hand on your back, the gentle push he gave you, the way he was staring down the man who kissed your hand; all came to a rest when he was in the same vehicle as you.
the longer time spent in your relationship, the more you began to pick out the traits of when jealousy ate at him. it wasn’t often, as it took a whole lot to get a reaction from him. but in time, you notice the passive aggressiveness he displays and the need he has to get you away from them.
verbal flirting is a different story, as he ropes into the conversation and spills little moments you both share. as in dates, your anniversaries, holidays; it was the little stuff to get them to shut up.
but if they don’t, he grabs your hands and makes an excuse: one that you seem to fall for every time.
“you got to stop saying you’re sick or have a terrible headache, stupid! you get me worried every time.” you would scold anytime it happens—which wasn’t a lot.
“i’m sorry, i don’t know what to do in the moment! what the fuck do you expect, a full blown make out session?” he was a giggling mess, pressing gentle kisses against your cheek.
“no???? next time, i’ll handle it.”
he ends up handling it each next time you say that.
WILBUR
becomes more handsy and talkative. he’s normally a chatterbox but he manages to steal the conversation with who was hitting on you.
you notice the strained smile on his lips, every word that he says is laced with sarcasm. he is not the one to be rude nor impolite, but gosh he can have a sour tongue. he makes it his goal to shoo away whoever came to interrupt you, but with his own knowledge of boring them to death.
they want to talk about how long you guys were in a relationship? they get geography facts. “yeah! i took them to italy for our third year anniversary, which reminds me—did you know-“ and he branches off from there
a hand will definitely rest on your shoulder or your waist the entire time, his thumb rubbing gentles circles. the occasional squeeze to keep himself at bay.
ends up going off on a whole tangent on how they’re lucky you kept him calm, even if you didn’t say a word at all, and he would’ve did something. he’s probably exaggerating but the way he’s so vocal and theatrical about it, it makes you think twice.
“god fucking dammit!” wil cursed, still not cooled off from what just happened. “did they say anything uncomfortable before i came? did they touch you? god, i fucking hope not.” he continued on with his rant, hot headed and kind of disheveled. the entire walk you had down the street, he has been sprouting vulgar words about the person who decided to flirt you up; and who may have flew too close to the sun.
“wil, im fine.” your tone was soft, just hoping you could get through your lover with a whisper. you didn’t want to aggravate him more, the idea of him growing stressed about something that’s over making you worry. “it’s okay—it was just some rando who thought they had a chance, you know i’m yours.”
the last part definitely calmed him down, his lips pulling up into a shy smile. though, he wouldn’t admit the embarrassment overall.
wilbur never gets jealous easily, and that’s a fact proven. unless the person resembles someone who he doesn’t like or if they’re getting too confident, that’s when he becomes sour.
he knows yours his, and you said it many times before. but the thought that others think they could steal his s/o? doesn’t sit right with him.
but most of the time, he’s chill about it. sometimes you don’t even notice that he was jealous, as he is able to hold a facade after years of theatre. it has become easy for him to maneuver conversations and shoo them away.
“well aren’t you a flirt?” wilbur chimed in, an arm coming to a rest around your shoulders. “if i wasn’t mistaken, you seemed to catch an interest in y/n.” he would added, a sort of sourness laced on his tongue. then he smiled, a kind one that didn’t give him away.
“oh, you must be their boyfriend that they spoke of—i don’t know about you, but i would never leave them alone—would prefer if they were by my side.” the stranger remarked, their gaze still on you. “you’re a lucky man.”
“that i am—oh by the way, where did you get that jacket? looks great.” just then, he shifted the conversation. a simple sentence from the stranger was all he needed to understand that they have a high ego, and he used that to his advantage.
jealousy is something he doesn’t like. he hates how it makes him feel, how it taints him. he prefers to not to acknowledge it than anything else, as he trusts you to keep your loyalty.
he never questions it, as he understands that you’re his and there is no need to worry. but another part of him just wants to tell the person off, just for being cocky and having the guts to flirt with someone who is already taken.
it would take awhile for you to pick up certain traits of when he’s jealous. but you took notice of the shift when he holds you: most of the times, he’s relaxed. but the more times he held you, the more you could feel the tension in his hand that’s masked to look relaxed.
when you notice that, you take his hand in yours until you leave the area. he appreciates that, as it keeps him at peace that there is nothing to worry about.
JSCHLATT
forward and straight. he likes fucking around with the person who’s flirting you up, sometimes joining them in vulgar words just to make you shy. he knows they’re not making you flush, and that makes it even better.
such a cocky grin the entire time, too. you know he’s enjoying it. sometimes he doesn’t even say that he’s your boyfriend until the end of it. but if the stranger gets cocky and kisses your hand, that’s when he intervenes.
when they come in and start flirting you up with physical touch as their love language, he hates the sight of it. utterly despises it.
i’m sorry but to get off topic for a second, i feel like schlatt is the type of lover who separates from you at the bar so you can hang out with your own friends; just to come up to you and be like “hey baby, well aren’t you looking fine.” like as if you guys aren’t having dinner later that night—and he’s paying.
but if he sees a group of people around your group, same amount and just genuinely flirting with your friends; with some poor sap trying their advances with you, he would down his drink and approach immediately.
“well, aren’t you a pretty thing.” schlatt flirted with a wide grin, sparing a glance to the man sitting beside you. “how about i buy you a drink, pumpkin?”
before you could answer, the man spoke over you. “sorry man, their friends wouldnt be too keen on a stranger stealing them from the group.” you both watched him take another light sip from his beer, almost confident with his words. “‘sides, they’re way out’ta you’re league.”
you were almost flattered at that, snorting out a laugh from his words. schlatt looked at you, offended before he rolled his eyes. you stood and approached your boyfriend, waving at your friends. “it’s time we go out for dinner anyways, let’s go.”
“see that? bet you couldn’t even score a name, let’s get out of here.” schlatt remarked with a smug expression.
when he gets jealous jealous, that’s a different story. when you can’t seem to click that whoever is talking to you is flirting.
schlatt always found your oblivious personality adorable, sometimes frustrating, but adorable. he enjoyed that about you because he gets to tease you a lot about it.
but when it comes down to someone else using their advances on you? it’s a different story. he would approach, not so happy about the situation, almost a stern expression written on his face as he grasped your waist.
no words could escape your mouth before he pressed his lips against yours, making sure to taste you properly before pulling you away from the conversation.
“what’s wrong with you?” you asked rather breathless, the sudden pull on your waist as he tugged you away. his gaze was fixed, only sparing you a glance as he continued to walk. the hand that intertwined with yours tugged you closer, schlatt only muttering something underneath his breath. “schlatt.” you said, this time more stern.
“don’t like the way they were acting with you.” he finally admitted through a hiss, pulling you around the corner to approach a picnic table. “they were getting too cocky, i ain’t like that.” he made sure you sat next to him, his personality having a shift to something more possessive.
“they were flirting?” you questioned—and that made him laugh. he couldn’t help it! he pressed his lips against your forehead and dismissed it for the evening.
he needs you by him afterwards. he needs to feel you, make it known that you’re his all over again.
another man that’s hard to make jealous, because he knows that you’re his. he knows that because you come back home every night and sleep next to him.
i haven't posted much genloss recently. omygosh someone sedate me i'm gonna CRY
The genloss surgery scene from Charlie’s perspective, inspired by this post I made.
HEAVY HEAVY HEAVY gore warning like. seriously.
you can also read it on ao3
It was the smell of antiseptic that hit him first.
Charlie’s mind was fuzzy. His body felt heavy. And cold. Very cold. He didn’t have the strength to open his eyes yet, but he could tell he was lying flat on… something. It wasn’t very comfortable.
The second thing Charlie was aware of were voices. Two of them, one directly to his left, one a little father and more artificial-sounding. A recording, perhaps?
He shifted his head, letting a sliver of light seep through his eyelids. It was dim and greenish and awful. He could vaguely see movement from the left.
A surgical glove snapped. Charlie’s eyes shot open.
He found himself in what appeared to be a hospital room, a dingy fluorescent light casting a yellow-green hue over everything. He was in an old hospital gown, with a pale blue sheet covering the majority of his body.
It was then that he realized he was laid out on an operating table.
Charlie looked up at his surgeon.
He’d seen that damned mask before.
The surgeon themself seemed rather young. Maybe a teen still? They were at least younger than Charlie.
“I don’t want to do this… oh god.”
It was when they started pulling the sheet back to expose Charlie’s bare stomach that he started to fully grasp the situation.
The kid turned to their left and started rummaging through a box of surgical tools.
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck.
“I’m so sorry. I need to- I need to live. You don’t understand I need to live.”
Charlie knew the game. He knew that no one won. He knew that he’d been though it before. He knew he hadn’t been the first. Clearly he hadn’t been the last, either. But this kid… maybe they could be. Maybe they could be the one to stop this cycle.
So Charlie came to a conclusion. He had to endure whatever torment that awaited him in order to give this teen a fighting chance.
A pair of rusted scissors glinted in the light.
Charlie braced.
The teen plunged the scissors into his abdomen, and Charlie screamed. The pain was immediate, a searing fire starting from his center and rippling outwards in waves upon waves of torment. Every part of him screeched in protest and agony as the scissors dug even deeper, tearing upwards through flesh and muscle and sinew. His vision blurred, the room beginning to swirl into a nightmarish, distorted haze. He was vaguely aware of the sweat that was clinging to him, starting to mix with the tears that were streaming down his face.
This needs to happen.
And it kept fucking going.
Fingers dug into his skin and began to pull, shoving aside skin and fat until Charlie had a wonderful view of his entire digestive tract. The teen’s hands dove even deeper, starting to wrap around his intestines and slowly stringing them out.
This needs to happen.
Charlie convulsed, crying out with each twist and tug. He could feel blood beginning to drip down his hands from where his fingernails were digging into his palms. His body was but a stage for this twisted performance.
This needs to happen.
His breaths were ragged, each one hurting more than the last as his heaving chest jostled his torn open stomach. Bolts of anguish radiated out from his core as the teen continued to just dig, shooting tendrils of pain through his veins and into every nerve in his body. The world was hazy and fragmented, blurring and unblurring at a rapidfire pace. The smell of antiseptic had been washed away with the scent of his own blood, metallic and nauseating.
This needs to happen. This needs to happen. This needs to happen.
Charlie shrieked and spasmed as something was ripped from him. His screams echoed against the tiled walls of the room, a desperate plea for release that only fell on deaf ears. Time itself was beginning to warp, stretching into a torturous eternity. Every fiber of his being cried out for mercy. But he knew that none would come.
“What is- what is this?”
Charlie managed to focus his eyes for a brief second on what the teen was holding. It took him a bit to actually understand what he was seeing, with his mind so fogged with pain and the object completely drenched in his own blood, but after a moment he realized:
It was a game piece, from Mousetrap. It was the missing piece of a puzzle.
Charlie would’ve sighed with relief if he could actually breathe. They got the piece. He had no idea how the fuck it got inside of him, and frankly he didn’t really want to, but they got it. They had a chance. That made it all worth it.
The kid had what they needed. But of course, they didn’t know that. So onwards they went, continuing their merciless work of ravaging through Charlie’s torso, gutting him for all the world the see. Time lost its meaning. His body was nothing but a vessel for agony. But he had to hold onto that hope. He had to hope this kid, whoever they were, would be the one to break the cycle. He just had to.
He just fucking had to.
i haven't posted much genloss recently. omygosh someone sedate me i'm gonna CRY
The genloss surgery scene from Charlie’s perspective, inspired by this post I made.
HEAVY HEAVY HEAVY gore warning like. seriously.
you can also read it on ao3
It was the smell of antiseptic that hit him first.
Charlie’s mind was fuzzy. His body felt heavy. And cold. Very cold. He didn’t have the strength to open his eyes yet, but he could tell he was lying flat on… something. It wasn’t very comfortable.
The second thing Charlie was aware of were voices. Two of them, one directly to his left, one a little father and more artificial-sounding. A recording, perhaps?
He shifted his head, letting a sliver of light seep through his eyelids. It was dim and greenish and awful. He could vaguely see movement from the left.
A surgical glove snapped. Charlie’s eyes shot open.
He found himself in what appeared to be a hospital room, a dingy fluorescent light casting a yellow-green hue over everything. He was in an old hospital gown, with a pale blue sheet covering the majority of his body.
It was then that he realized he was laid out on an operating table.
Charlie looked up at his surgeon.
He’d seen that damned mask before.
The surgeon themself seemed rather young. Maybe a teen still? They were at least younger than Charlie.
“I don’t want to do this… oh god.”
It was when they started pulling the sheet back to expose Charlie’s bare stomach that he started to fully grasp the situation.
The kid turned to their left and started rummaging through a box of surgical tools.
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck.
“I’m so sorry. I need to- I need to live. You don’t understand I need to live.”
Charlie knew the game. He knew that no one won. He knew that he’d been though it before. He knew he hadn’t been the first. Clearly he hadn’t been the last, either. But this kid… maybe they could be. Maybe they could be the one to stop this cycle.
So Charlie came to a conclusion. He had to endure whatever torment that awaited him in order to give this teen a fighting chance.
A pair of rusted scissors glinted in the light.
Charlie braced.
The teen plunged the scissors into his abdomen, and Charlie screamed. The pain was immediate, a searing fire starting from his center and rippling outwards in waves upon waves of torment. Every part of him screeched in protest and agony as the scissors dug even deeper, tearing upwards through flesh and muscle and sinew. His vision blurred, the room beginning to swirl into a nightmarish, distorted haze. He was vaguely aware of the sweat that was clinging to him, starting to mix with the tears that were streaming down his face.
This needs to happen.
And it kept fucking going.
Fingers dug into his skin and began to pull, shoving aside skin and fat until Charlie had a wonderful view of his entire digestive tract. The teen’s hands dove even deeper, starting to wrap around his intestines and slowly stringing them out.
This needs to happen.
Charlie convulsed, crying out with each twist and tug. He could feel blood beginning to drip down his hands from where his fingernails were digging into his palms. His body was but a stage for this twisted performance.
This needs to happen.
His breaths were ragged, each one hurting more than the last as his heaving chest jostled his torn open stomach. Bolts of anguish radiated out from his core as the teen continued to just dig, shooting tendrils of pain through his veins and into every nerve in his body. The world was hazy and fragmented, blurring and unblurring at a rapidfire pace. The smell of antiseptic had been washed away with the scent of his own blood, metallic and nauseating.
This needs to happen. This needs to happen. This needs to happen.
Charlie shrieked and spasmed as something was ripped from him. His screams echoed against the tiled walls of the room, a desperate plea for release that only fell on deaf ears. Time itself was beginning to warp, stretching into a torturous eternity. Every fiber of his being cried out for mercy. But he knew that none would come.
“What is- what is this?”
Charlie managed to focus his eyes for a brief second on what the teen was holding. It took him a bit to actually understand what he was seeing, with his mind so fogged with pain and the object completely drenched in his own blood, but after a moment he realized:
It was a game piece, from Mousetrap. It was the missing piece of a puzzle.
Charlie would’ve sighed with relief if he could actually breathe. They got the piece. He had no idea how the fuck it got inside of him, and frankly he didn’t really want to, but they got it. They had a chance. That made it all worth it.
The kid had what they needed. But of course, they didn’t know that. So onwards they went, continuing their merciless work of ravaging through Charlie’s torso, gutting him for all the world the see. Time lost its meaning. His body was nothing but a vessel for agony. But he had to hold onto that hope. He had to hope this kid, whoever they were, would be the one to break the cycle. He just had to.
He just fucking had to.
yEAAAAAAAAAAAAA i really loved this fic back when it was first posted (as the huGE board game nerd i am) and i'm so happy to see it being repurposed for charlie!!!! beautiful beautiful writing as per usual caroline
See That Space In Your Head (And I Want To Fill It In)
or; the board game au
tw: cursing
look, it isn't the most nerdy thing you've ever done.
And you aren't proud of it-you aren't sure if that helps or not-but moving into a new town, in a new city- a new state, halfway across the country-known for its cold, dark and long winters well-you had to make friend somehow.
And he was so fucking persistent on Facebook too.
The posts neared non stop, always to the top of the group, right above people always posting the new fox sighting and where it was heading.
The first post was innocent enough.
Still need new members for the board to death club! we meet every other wednesday in the heart of the library.
the only comments under were spam and people looking for directions to the library. charlie didn't comment back to either.
The next post was two days later:
board to death meeting wednesay where we finally find out who's the best. come join us. Thornhill Library @ 6pm!
it's the last post that borders on pleading that makes you comment.
board to death. Thornhill Library. Newbies definitely not invited or encouraged.
look, you can sense the sarcasm in it but the way he's been posting nearing every other day for people to join his club but won't elaborate on what it is or anything besides the fucking name is making your chest boil with rage and your fingers take over across your keyboard before you can stop it
maybe, just maybe telling people what the club is would help and make people join? I dunno, just a thought.
you submit it before you can question that it's too sarcastic, too rude, not a way to make friends in this town-you're wrestling with the idea of deleting it before anyone can see it when your phone bings with a facebook notification.
it's him.
hm. thought the name alone would give it away. join us wednesday and see what we do :-)
bastard.
you weren't planning on going.
planned on leaving the conversation there, letting it die but the idea of it was killing you and you found yourself lacing up your shoes and slipping a coat over your shoulders to brave the Chicago cold before you could stop yourself.
the library was on the only busy street, which figures, and parking was a nightmare almost turned around about five times before you reminded yourself you were just stopping by-haven't gotten a library card yet and while you're here you might as well see what this silly club is about
as you park and enter, a death grip on the envelopes in your hands to get the stupid card, you notice how busy it is. And how incredibly loud it is.
The librarian behind the desk doesn't seem bothered by it either, talking at a loud volume with someone else behind the desk.
you lose the confidence you had, sliding the bills into your back pocket and slinking off to what you think would be 'the heart of the library'
it's not hard to find, fortunately
or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it.
a small group of people stand around a table stacked high with board games and who you think would be the lead stands next to it, hands on his hips.
it takes you a second to recognize it's charlie from the facebook post. he’s laughing with the small circle around him, his glasses are crooked on his nose but if it bothers him, he doesn’t make a move to adjust them. he wears a bright green shirt with a periodic table on it that says i have fun periodically and truly, that’s all you needed to know about what was happening.
you almost have to stop yourself from turning around and leaving but the conversation stops you-
"Yeah well Monopoly ends marriages but none of us are married so who fucking cares?"
"It's a figure of speech, you idiot." someone says back, pinching the bridge of their nose.
They're short next to charlie, a mess of blonde hair that's uncombed.
"Look," he finally holds his hands up in surrender, “i’ll-“
his eyes flash to you.
"well," he smirks, "hello there."
Your face is bright red before you can stop it and you try to wipe the look off your face-
"You're part of the facebook group, right?" charlie steps forward, the smirk high on his face, produces "The one who didn't know who we were?"
The blush is replaced by annoyance.
"What kind of name is board to death that meets in a library?"
he shrugs, crosses his arms over his chest:
"I dunno," he says, the smirk never leaving, "Probably a board game club."
you can't help the oh that escapes from your mouth and his friends behind him are laughing and you want to disappear.
"Right." you shrug, "guess i know now-" you turn to leave and he's at your elbow.
"Hey," his voice is high and comforting, is trying to make it quiet so it’s between you two"Stay and play a game. I was just kidding."
and you feel so fucking dumb like it's so obvious now, and you want to disappear-
"Seriously," he says, "Stay. nothing makes me feel better than beating Nick at Life. Really, whatever you're going through, it'll make it better."
you hesitate and before you can turn around, tell him no, he's pulling your elbow: "come on, i promise. and if it sucks, you can leave."
you obey, sitting next to charlie as he sits with this smile on his face, his face now pink like he's embarrassed as he fumbles with his glasses.
"charlie," he offers his hand, "nice to finally meet you."
you hesitate and shake his hand, introducing yourself as well.
"nice to meet the facebook menace himself," you finally ease up, "ready to lose?"
and it's a big statement, especially considering you've never played and you don't know him, but he leans back into the seat, his shoulder brushing yours as he smirks:
"Bring it on."
CHARLIE FIC BUT D&D AHHHHHHH i loved it so much omy goodness. how they were both really nervous at the start and didn't know the other was too? YUM
Homesick For You (And I Don’t Know Why)
or: d&d first date au
tw:cursing, first date, use of his real name
charlie rocks back and fourth on his heels, cranes his neck in a desolate parking lot and checks his watch for the fourth time.
He's early. this is normal-and you had just texted that you had left, a thirty minute drive for you, but still-he's nervous naturally.
he's had his handful of bad dates before-probably more bad than good-
and you seem great so far; can keep a conversation going, a good sense of humor but fuck he's thought that before about others too.
A tiny car he can't place the name of pulls into the parking lot, a heavy bass comes out of it and he bites the inside of his lip to keep from smiling.
He recognizes your profile immediately, even through tinted windows and the half blurry photos from your dating profile.
He gives you a second to get out of the car, not to seem to eager or anything like that-and his phone vibrates in his hand
you're slowly getting out of your car, your hands shaking as you type out a text to him:
hey charlie! it's-
no no-you backspace-that seems too excited for it
"Hey stranger!"
You jump at the sound of the voice you've only known from phone calls lately.
he comes to your side. there’s an awkward beat for two seconds before he speaks:
"So," he has to physically stop himself from his teeth chattering, all nerves, "Have you played before?"
you blow air out of your lips:
"define play."
he laughs: "i'll take it-"
"I mean like," you're talking over him, so nervous, "Like, with the people i went to high school with. But like, it was super casual-"
he's nodding, holding the door for you as you walk in and you wait in the threshold for him, his hand on the small of your back as he leads you in.
The bar is empty, just you two as you both slide into chairs next to one another, and immediately he's talking. it's more rambling, about his knowledge (or lack thereof) of IPAs, and alcohol in general and "Fuck, I'm gonna freeze and just point, i know it'"
Time moves fast, and before you know it, you're sliding into a chair next to Charlie, knees knocking together. Plans were last second; you hold a character sheet on a dimming phone as you crane your neck to check Charlie's out.
He was kind the entire time, his knees knocking into yours as he's over your shoulder, pointing and offering characters ("No, like. A Monk with religious guilt is a good idea-" or "No, I think if your bard played a flute badly that would arguably make it funnier.")
The game continues and his hand hovers over yours, slowly handing you dice, asking for you to shake it before he rolls it-at first you think it's a bad pick-up line, but when he rolls his second one of the game well-you have to help him when you can.
Charlie sighs dramatically and you expect the worst, something along the lines of: this is the worst date i've ever been on or it's embarrassing how this was your idea of a first date-
instead, he leans back in his seat, the front of the chairs leave the floor, are airborne when he speaks:
"You'll have to throw me."
If it wasn't for the smirk, it would be hard to place he's kidding by the straight face.
"I'm sorry," You're laughing, shaking your head, "I what?!”
He shakes his head, sighing, but the smirk remains:
"Throw me. You're going to have to chuck me at the monster."
"Oh," You're nodding, "I see, you have a death wish."
And finally he's laughing and it's nice- high pitched and loud, but it rips through him, the corner of his eyes squinting as he's clearly happy-it's nice, you find yourself wanting to make him laugh again,
"Look," he's ticking reasons off his fingers, "I'm small, right?"
"I-"
"And!" The second figure comes up, his other hand covers over your finger with a smirk before he can overthink it, "I can land on his head and poke his eyes out..
He pauses, shrugs and waves his hand in the air,
"Or something. Whatever."
And you're laughing again, his hand still on yours, neither of you making the move to move one another's-
"Or whatever," You laugh, "Charlie, you have a death wish.”
He laughs, holding his hands in the air, "Alright, I have a second character made, you caught me."
"You're serious," You're speaking low like it's a secret, your face close enough to him you can smell the liquor on his breath, see the beauty marks that liter and line his face-physically stopping yourself from reaching out and tracing the constellation on his face, "You want me to?"
He leans in: "It would be my honor."
His hand laces into yours under the table, and he's side eyeing you, like he isn't sure this is alright, this is a good first move, but when you're hand squeezes his back, he settles back in with a content look.
Charlie resists the urge to grab either side of your face, pull you close when you successfully chuck him on top of the undead monster, instead pumping his fist in the air-the game pauses there, members needing to leave, needing drink refills, it slowly gets quiet.
"Well," He sighs looking at you, "Who would've thought the big bad guy would be attracted to fire instead of being afraid of it?"
He's teasing, and you're laughing easily.
Your hand is still tangled in his, the pad of his thumb slowly draws circles around your hand, easy looping around again and again, some comfortable movement he does as he listens to you talk.
"I had fun," he says gently, "This might be the best first date l've ever been on."
"Well," You're smiling widely, "you're easy to impress."
"Maybe," he shrugs, "Maybe we could do this again?"
The pad of his thumb is calloused as it runs over the top of your hand and you're thinking how you could get use to this:
"Yeah," playing it cool long gone, "It's a date."
Charlie Slimecicle x Reader
But its like streaming together for the first time and its just really sweet while he teaches you to play Minecraft:)
<3
yesyeysysysyyseyyseseysyes this is actually my first time writing for him other than that one sorry boys preference 😭🙏 ; I had no idea how to get from point a to point b so I'm so sorry lmao
SLIMECICLE ; minecraft tutorial
summary ; charlie teaches you how to play minecraft on stream
warnings ; language
genre ; fluff
word count ; 758
masterlist
You met Charlie in your freshman year of high school, and finally, by your senior year, you were dating. Now, at twenty-five, you were happy with your lives and peacefully living. He was a full-time content creator, and you were working at a department store, just a job to pay for classes to get the degree you were hoping to get.
You'd appeared in a stream or video here and there. You were relatively camera shy and didn't like disturbing your boyfriend while he was working, so you didn't show your face to his fans very much other than Instagram posts.
But, he'd gotten the genius idea to invite you on his stream and teach you how to play Minecraft. You knew stuff here and there about the game, but not a lot. All you really knew was blocks and the insane amount of friends he had, and eggs.
You sit down in a chair next to him, picking at your fingers as he begins the stream, giving you a warm welcome for chat. You give the camera a wave, looking to Charlie as he explains why you're here and what you'll be doing.
"Okay, so WASD is to move, mouse is to look around"
"Okay" You nod, using the mouse to look around, seeing you'd spawned in a dark oak biome. "Oooo, I like this place. Wait, this is one of those biomes you were playing in VR with Traves and Schlatt"
He nods and chuckles, "Yeah, yeah. Hold down the left mouse button to break blocks and get some wood."
You nod, doing as he says, gathering the dark oak wood. "I'm guessing walking, talking egg children are QSMP only" You joke, taking notice of the lack of eggs.
"Honestly, there is two types of eggs but they don't walk or talk, if that's any better?"
"Two?"
"Chicken eggs and the Ender Dragon's egg"
"Oh!"
You progress through the game a bit, getting better as you play.
You're now wielded with iron tools, golden boots from a nether portal ruin, and an iron helmet. Charlie speaks about the nether, which got you in a bit of a panic since, yes, you wanted to try and beat the game, but you didn't want to die and lose all your items, either. You definitely weren't loaded enough to go try and get a bunch of blaze rods and trade for ender pearls, so you decided to explore the massive caves to try and find diamonds and more iron, for now.
Charlie watches you, proudly. He shows you all the tips and tricks and teaches you what items do, how they work, and how to craft them.
"Oh, get out! Get out! That's a warden cave, out! Go! Go, go!" He exclaims, eyes widening.
"What?" You ask, quickly backing up as you look at the torch light illuminating the dark blue blocks. You hear a rustling sound in the headphones and quickly panic, running back where you came from.
"Wardens are so OP, dude, you'll get demolished. The abandoned cities have awesome gear and loot, though"
"Then let's go get it!"
"The wardens, Y/n"
You slowly look between him and the screen, and quickly type a little /gamemode peaceful in chat, switching the game mode.
"Y/n!" He giggles, "I thought you didn't wanna cheat"
"Well, I want rare shit. Thank your chat, dude." You shrug with a smile, heading back down towards the abandoned city.
You end up finding nearly a stack of diamonds down there, plus a bunch of enchanting books and music discs. Charlie was hyping you up the whole time and deflecting the fact you were in peaceful, using the responses of "they're scaring the wardens away" and "the wardens are there, they're just hiding" for the bit.
"Okay, I think I got everything"
"Oh, you don't leave"
"Huh?"
"You never leave.. you never leave once you enter" He begins to do the dark and scary voice while he quickly types in the /gamemode hard into chat, summoning a few wardens around you.
You yelp and quickly sprint away, taking a solid five hearts of damage from one hit. You're unable to turn the game back to peaceful as you try your best to run away. You attempt to build straight up but are hit again, killing you.
All your items burst out of your inventory as you stare at the 'You died!' screen, jaw hanging agape. You slowly turn your head towards the brunette next to you as chat explodes with comments.
"Charlie!"
a little birdy (tumblr) told me you were taking requests 👁
charlie, our beloved, date night thoughts? im thinkin reader in his clothes, watching a movie or show, popcorn and his gas station eggs, falling asleep on the couch after hours of cuddling, yknow the vibe
started giggling and kicking my feet the moment i received this ask >//< also first post hi!!! hi!!! HI!!!
❛ hcs ; nights in with charlie <3 ༉‧₊˚✧
“hey angel,” the very millisecond you walk through the door; “was work alright?”
busying himself around you as he fine tunes the house for you - taking your coat, your bag, your shoes, your hand, guiding you to the bedroom, visibly proud of himself as he displays his freshest, comfiest clothes laid out on the bed, all ready for you.
sights set entirely on you while you strip away the remnants of your day, revelling in the content hums you release with every layer you remove, dutifully taking the cast-away clothes and placing them in the hamper for you.
listening ears ON while you deliver the latest work gossip, absolutely living for the newest updates
having to take a moment when you finally turn back to him, your hands resting on your hips as he marvels at you, swimming in an old merch shirt and his sweats, which you’ve had to roll the waistband of.
“there is no way you find this attractive,” you laugh out, watching him approach, hands first, coming straight for your waist. he laughs back, bubbling chuckles flush against your skin as he presses delicate kisses up and down your neck, “it is insanely attractive,” he moves up to your forehead, littering them around the rest of your face.
and you best believe you’re getting carried around. one arm hooked under your knees, the other threaded around your back and back up under your arm, hand firm against the side of your chest as you travel through the house as one.
looping strands of the hair on the nape of his neck around your fingers as he does, grinning as his eyes flutter at the sensation.
squealing when your back hits the cushions of the couch, playfully kicking your legs as he traps them between his knees, suspending himself on the palms of his hands, forearms caging your head.
this impromptu playfight continues for a good few minutes, lazy swings and hazy laughter until you’ve both managed to completely tire yourselves out, and you’ve ended up on top of him in the conflict.
he keeps a tight hold around your body, arms encircling you as your heavy breathing pulls the two of you in and pushes you out in tandem, exasperated giggles escaping your lips every few seconds.
“shitty movie?” he asks, running his open hand up and down your back. “shitty movie,” you confirm, nodding your head resting in the crook of his neck.
countless studio logos playing as he pads off to the kitchen, the tell-tale scent of popcorn drifting through the open door while the movie’s glaringly obvious exposition drones on and on.
opposite ends of the couch when he returns, legs entangled, the comically large bowl of said popcorn seated between them, the occasional hands brushing whenever you reach over.
spending the rest of the night heckling stitled acting and wilted writing, scoffing about how ‘we could’ve done so much better’
giggling as you gain numerous new inside jokes from awful line delivery and utterly incomprehensible plot holes
crawling back over to him as the evening chill sets in, and neither of you can be bothered to utilise the actual air conditioning, especially when you’ve got eachother.
fingers interlaced, held against your chests as they’re pressed against one another.
“i like this,” he mumbles, nose buried in your ruffled hair, lips moving against your scalp. ”i like you.” “whaaat?” “shut up,” you grumble, despite your smile.
eventually dozing off, you going first, lulled by his soft, rhythmic breathing. he watches your snoozing form with the fondest of smiles, head racing with the usual ‘how did i ever manage this?’ queries.
he still doesn’t get how he bagged you - but he’s sure as shit not complaining!!
“g’night, angel,” he murmurs, a soft squeeze of your clasped hands as he switches the tv off and joins you in sleep.
very much inspired by the fact i am Physically Unable to stay still irl :)))) also tysm for all the love on the last post!! i’ve always been scared of posting my work so i’ve been hiding away from the eyes of the interwebs for yoooonkksss
enjoy!!
⋆.˚ ❛ hcs ; chuckle sandwich x fidgety reader ! ༘⋆
꒷꒦ charlie:
absolutely matching your freak fidget
drumming his fingers against your collarbone when his arm is draped around your shoulder
constant hand squeezing, dude is trying to crack your knuckles for you
matching sets of bouncing legs
੭ ̊ schlatt:
“can you just- can you- dude.”
non-stop huffing, as if he doesn’t love the way you trace such intricate patterns against his arms whenever you can
will be buying you any stupid fidget toy he can find (that just reminded me. does anyone remember 300 chinese finger traps from the billboard video. cause i do)
eventually starts picking up the same habits, grumbling when you catch him out, him drawing those same designs in your skin the next time you’re together
✰ ˚ ted:
exasperated “babe”s, every single time
will teddy bear you into submission when you’re cuddling, every available limb curled around your body to hold you down and stop you from repositioning for the umpteenth time
biting back his grin when your fingers dance along an especially ticklish spot of his, playfully swatting you away to stop before it’s even started
100% lecturing you about the dangers of knuckle cracking (while you are loudly going ham on them right next to his ear. you do not stop. stick it to the man.)
very classy, very mindful, very demure
chuckle sandwich hc’s / x reader
lower caps on purpose, this is a freestyle write with no plot tbh LMFAO
︶꒦꒷♡ TED NIVISON
he’s very classy.
fancy dates, fancy restaurants, fancy gifts, fancy food, only the best for you.
even if he can’t give you the most “ravishing” of dates, his words are even more sweeter
“my love” always. the word “my” comes before any name he uses for you. even after arguments or childish petty, he never forgets to add that one word — it’s changing, really
kisses your hands at any chance he gets!
your fingers, your knuckles, your palm. wraps his hands around yours when they are cold, brings them to his face, guides you
not shy of you. will take pictures with you and posts them to his story, as a post, maybe a model for his merch! he will never shy you away from the world
loves when you cook with him. your plate of food is always plated nicely!! ted’s plate is usually a mountain of whatever portion he wants
opens doors for you!! the type to pull you back from the hem of your shirt and say “and what do you think you’re doing??” while opening the door
︶꒦꒷♡ CHARLIE SLIMECICLE
he’s very mindful
always thinks about your feelings before coming to any choice/conclusion. “let me talk to s/o first” kind of guy
it’s not that he’s insecure or can’t make his own decisions — he just likes have you a part of it
allergies and/or phobias? careful and wary. overstimulated from sound easy? puts his hands over your ears. the sun is getting too bright? it’s okay, he always packs sunglasses because he knows you never do
wakes you up to your favourite drink each morning because he knows you need your rest time after working a 9-5
knows every little thing about you like you’re a book he likes to read nonstop.
he enjoys your company a whole lot. loves you at his side when you both finally find the free time in the evenings.
enjoys the privacy of your relationship but also doesn’t shy you away from the camera!! basically encourages you to join him sometimes or say hi
his longtime fans know of you, and newer fans come to get to know you
︶꒦꒷♡ JSCHLATT
he’s very demure
its no surprise that he would be the modest one. while he doesn’t shy you away from the camera, he prefers you to stay a secret
and it’s because he knows as soon as people see your face, they will know everything about you.: your job, your height, your birthday, your maiden name, everything
he prefers dropping little things about you. letting his viewers hear your voice, see you wave at the camera from the side
people know he’s a taken man, but the mystery of “by who?” keeps getting bigger.
everyone can see that the man is in love with you — it’s the way he looks at you whenever you walk into the room
a soft gaze that meets yours and he’s smitten all over again
your hard launch was a story of you with jambo and soup and how he was sulking that the cats loved you more
and yes, within that hour, people found your private insta
i don't know how you managed to nail the energy of chat but it's actually so accurate. this made me cackle
when i tell you i have been WAITINGGGG for someone that writes for charlie. my saviour omg ANYWAYS WE’RE GOINF OFF TRACK
could you write something about charlie with a partner (who isn’t relatively famous) and he teaches them how to play minecraft on stream?? tysm ‼️‼️☹️
i love feeding the masses with my charlie content >:33 and this is the CUTEST idea omg!!
enjoyyy :)))))))
˚ ༘ ೀ charlie slimecicle: learning curve ⋆｡˚
- insisted on you doing a bit for the stream intro (disgustingly teary puppy eyes until you caved in)
- and so he buries you under a pile of plushies in a corner of the room moments before the stream starts, the two of you cackling as you descend further into the fluff dimension, drowning in fuzz
- he plays his best cool as the stream starts up, idly chatting as he flicks through tabs, distracting chat from the lack of actual content so far (the title being ‘I AM STREAMING. I AM LIVE.’ under the ‘just chatting’ category)
- the build-up soon begins; “actually, chat, i just wanted to tell you guys about the brand new slime story plush coming out, pretty soon..”
- you do your best to contain your giggles, as stoic as possible for someone hidden under a mountain of stuffing.
- squealing as he digs you back out, swiftly taking you in his arms and proudly presenting you to the camera, his arms pulled tight around your middle as you attempt to wriggle from his relentless grasp, wildly (and futilely) kicking your legs
- settling into the desk chair he’s placed beside his for you, watching with a shy smile as chat explodes; ↳ maeronpa_: STRANGER gem2day: CHARLES THAT IS NOT A MARKETABLE PLUSHIE luca_on_mars: STRANGER DANGER WHO IS THIS
- “stop- chat, it’s not stranger danger!” he laughs out, turning your chair to face his as he fits a headset over your head, thumb lingering reassuringly against your cheek for a second as he brushes loose strands of hair back
- charlie’s audience knows you, but not as you - as more of a cryptid, than anything; a muffled voice from behind the door of his office, mid-stream, or as a loud bubble of laughter behind the camera of his instagram stories, maybe even a flash of hair in the background of a picture every once in a blue moon.
- the decision to actually show your face, you in your entirety, was one you agonised over for a long time. on one hand, you wanted to make yourself actually known to the world - a person, rather than a poltergeist.
- on the other, you worried about the consequences of putting your face on such a large platform as charlie’s.
- ultimately, you decided to go through with it
- something charlie was very much ecstatic about
- like leaping and bounding around the house when you asked him to teach you minecraft - on stream
- half due to the fact he could finally show you off, let everyone know he managed to bag someone like you, and half so he could prove you actually existed in the first place ↳ (the matter of your existence being brought up on an episode chuckle sandwich, schlatt’s remark of “if they even exist..” being met with charlie’s exasperated yell of “YOU’VE LITERALLY MET THEM”)
- the steady realisation from chat that you’re you, screen lighting up with thousands spamming your name, alongside sentiments such as “FINALLY” and “WAIT THEY WERENT A BIT???”, then devolving into hostage situation accusations; ↳ scslimed: ARE YOU DOING THIS WILLINGLY dishevelledavocado: kidnapping someone for the bit is crazy taypotts: WAIT WAIT BLINK TWICE
- you simply giggle as he scrambles to defend himself, promising chat he found you “organically” (”char, what does that even mean?” “like, in the wild!” “are you saying i’m an animal?”)
- finally delving into the game - him more or less perched on your shoulder the entire time, as he peers at the screen from beside you, out of frame hand splayed on your thigh to hold himself up
- having to move said hand to frantically take control of your mouse most times
- you failing almost exactly 1 minute in when, instead of sticks, you simply start crafting shit tons of buttons
- ignoring charlie’s desparate pleas for you to stop, instead grinning wickedly as you watch your stock of oak planks deplete
- “do not dig straight down,” he warns, tone grave as anything. “okay!” you chirp, digging straight up instead, karma hitting you in the form of a steady stream of gravel piling down on you
- shrieking as he intervenes just in time, lunging for the mouse and dragging you away from immediate death
- throwing a minor (major) fit the first time you do die, the only sounds you can hear being the quiet crackling of the virtual lava you walked straight into, and charlie’s hysterics, his hiccuping laughter as he sympathetically pats your head, which you’ve placed on the desk in a moment of true defeat.
- “can we not just call phil? mr minecraft?” you whine, lifting your head just to throw it into your hands. "WE DON’T NEED HIM!” charlie exclaims, reaching over you to hit ‘respawn’.
- desparately trying to tame every animal you come across - spending up every single bone on every single wolf, spending your time in villages fishing so you can get yourself a cat
- soon becomes one of charlie’s longest streams, him knowing the two of you were in the deep end the moment you declared you were going to ‘beat that damn lizard’
- several hours (and deaths) later; you finally step into the end
- so blinded by your satisfied excitement, you don’t even register that you’ve stepped a block too far on the tiny island you loaded onto
- face dropping instantly, watching in stunned silence as you simply just fall into the void, exchanging pained glances with charlie as the death screen fades in, the tauntingly tempting dilemma of ‘respawn’ or ‘title screen’ glaring right back at you
- streamendsabruptly.gif
hiiii :33 could you do headcanons on what the chuckle guys would call you in a relationship?? i love ur writing sm😭😭
omg get out of my head i was literally thinking abt this the other day
⋆°࿔ hcs: chuckle and pet names ✧₊⁺
꒷꒦ charlie slimecicle:
we all know by now i’m an ‘angel’ truther, it’s just so Him
just generally anything sweet; honey/hon, baby, sweetheart, lover
despite all this, absolutely has your name saved as some inane shit like ‘boogermaniac’ in his phone for zero conceivable reason ⤷ “it’s loving! doting!” "in what world?!”
୭+ jschlatt:
obligatory toots because of course
if you are that way inclined, perhaps, maybe, possibly; sugartits. just hear me out plEASE
doll doll doll doll doll doll doll doLL DOLL DOLL
‘dork’ when he’s pretending not to love the way you’re being disgustingly sappy with him
✧࿔* ted nivison:
new chuckle sandwich episode solidified the fact he is 100% a ‘babe’ type of guy
and all other variations; beb, bab, bub, etc.
sugar, but just ‘shug’ (he’s just gotta be weird with it)
my dear, mon cherie, mi amour - mine, mine, mine, mine type shi
charlie when you’re on your period i am on my KNEES 🙏🙏🙏
took an ikkle bit of creative liberty here and just thought fuck it lets go through the whole cycle
enjoy (pls)
- afab reader but! gn throughout :)
˙⋆✮ hcs: charlie slimecicle vs your cycle ⭑.ᐟ
⋆.˚ menstruation: - 100% researching, buying, making any and every cramp relief tool, remedy or ‘cure’ he can find
- gentlest pawing at your tender chest, soft kisses when you whine at the sharp sensation
- running to your side with painkillers every time you so much as mention a hint of a headache coming on, seriously considering jumping over the couch to get to you quicker until he remembers the glass of water in his hands
- world-class expert at dealing with the mood swings, recognising your highs and lows, attuning himself accordingly - knows how and when to stay off your nerves, with your increased irritability
- more or less becoming a human taxi around the house when you’re tired, arms slid underneath your thighs as your legs envelop his body, carrying you from room to room
- heating pad ready for you at all times
⋆.˚ follicular/ovulation: - stumbling behind you when your energy comes back, gladly being dragged along whenever you decide you’re in a social mood
- used to getting his bones jumped by now, but never expects, or prepares for, the ferocity with which you’ll tackle him onto the bed ⤷ “i think you just cracked a rib,” he wheezes out, twinkling eyes trailing up your looming body. you press your splayed palms to his chest for a moment, "oh. is that hot?” "..kinda, yeah,” he nods, meek.
- visibly melting in adoration whenever the sun catches your glowing skin (yes he did almost run the two of you off the road once because he was distracted. what about it. let a guy appreciate the love of his life)
⋆.˚ luteal: - tries his best not to laugh when you’re sat in a ‘de-bloating position’; legs to the wall, back to the floor, arms outstretched to your sides ⤷ “it works!” you insist, glaring at him from where he stands, snickering in the doorway. "you look like a life alert ad, babe.”
- adhering to your every craving, as confusing or disgustingly unhealthy as they are
- stays awake with you when you’re struggling to sleep, pulling you in tight to his chest, refusing to so much as shut his eyes until he’s sure you’re gone
- constantly shutting you down when your ego dips, and your insecurities come out to play, assuring you you’re being entirely nonsensical, that you could never look like “that big foreheaded bitch from nightmare before christmas” (”dr finklestein?” “dr fuckasstein” “i worry about you.”)