Part 3 When The Madrigals Jump Him When?

part 3 when the madrigals jump him when?

His amor

In which Camilo turns to his sister for help but she insists that he hears the truth from you. You shed light to who you are and where you came from.

The long awaited part 2 of ‘his girl’. Part 1 is here ! masterlist !!

t.w abuse, mentions of blood and beating

The walk back to Casita was silent with Camilo deep in thought. He kept trying to think of the reason why your mother despises him so much. Was it his pranks? He was sure he hadn’t done anything to mess with her. Maybe she caught wind of his troublesome ways and thought he was a bad influence? No, something inside the shapeshifter knew that it was something much deeper than that.

And he knew one person who had the answers to his questions.

He was somber, gazing on the ground as Casita opened its doors for him. As he trudged to the direction of his big sister’s, a little soft ‘hm’ interrupted him from his thoughts.

He looked up to see Dolores, with those wide round eyes staring at him and she played with her fingers whilst pursing her lips.

“I know something you don’t..” Dolores had covered her lips, shaking her head. No, no, that wasn’t your story to tell, she scolds herself. “I know something you would never know.” She had continued before slapping a hand on her mouth again.

Camilo bit his lower lip, making his way over to the balcony and looking towards the direction of the rest of Encanto and you were. He had also wanted to know but he wanted to hear it from you. Or at the very least, know how you were after that ordeal.

“She’s okay.” Dolores’ soft voice had brought him out of her thoughts and she looked down. “You know, sometimes the gift I was given doesn't seem like a gift at all.” The young woman murmured as she joined her brother on the veranda, leaning against it. “You hear some things you wish you can’t. You know things you should never know. I don’t want to say anything for her sake.” She smiled down at her brother.

The girl sucked in a breath and Camilo knew she was trying her hardest not to tell him and he smiled, grateful but also in a comforting way as he patted Dolores’ back.

“Just.. When you finally know why, be there for her, hermano. Be by her side.”

Camilo gazed at his big sister before slowly nodding. “I will, hermana. I will.”

It would be a while before he returned to his room, laying in bed as he stared at the ceiling, curiosity eating him up as well as the desire to check on you but he had to restrain himself. Until he could no longer just lay there.

He grabbed his ruana in a flash, grabbing a lantern to light his journey to you. Though at his preparation, he failed to hear the soft ‘clinking’ of rocks against his window.

Camilo breathed in before opening the window and instead of being greeted with the cold breeze of the night, he was instead hit with a particularly large pebble. Startled and slightly pained, the boy held onto his nose with a groan.

What the..

“I.. um.. oops?” A voice had squeaked out from outside his window and his eyes widened, immediately running over to see you with an apologetic smile and rocks and pebbles of different sizes in your arms. You were wearing a thick shawl, a little lantern in your hand and some mangoes from before as a.. ‘sorry’ gift of some sorts.

“Agh, there are small pebbles there, princesa, couldn’t you have just stuck to one size?” Camilo had whined quietly, rubbing at his now red nose. You would only laugh nervously, dropping the assortment of pebbles and rocks.

“I didn’t know which one to pick.” Dios, you were lucky you were adorable.

He had chuckled, shaking his head as he had gently tugged down one of the winding vines that Isabela had created around the house and with Casita’s help, you had entered his room. Immediately, you ran up to him, enveloping him into a hug.

“I missed you, Camilo.” His eyes softened as he held you close. “I missed you too princesa.”

Slowly you pull away and you purse your lips. Cheeks heating up at what you had just done and you shake your head. Now was not the time for that. You were sure Camilo was still reeling over the events before. And you dreaded telling him just why your mamá reacted that way but something told you that he would understand somehow.

You took a deep breath. “I have.. something to tell you.” The shapeshifter’s eyes widened. “Are you sure, princesa? You don’t have to tell me anything until you’re ready.” And you would nod. He deserved to know what had happened after that run-in with your mother.

Where would you even start? Taking in another deep breath and closing your eyes, you felt Camilo’s hand hold yours as if telling you without words that he was there. He would listen.

“My mamá and I came from a village far, far away from Encanto.” You murmured. “She was married, married to this.. awful man that was my father.” Your voice wavered. “Father was a businessman, a noble of sorts if you will, and she was betrothed to him at a young age. I heard people say that they were happy, the perfect couple.. and when I was a child, I thought so too.”

Suddenly everything had made sense for Camilo. Your elegance, the blatant lack of knowledge or wisdom of even the simplest thing such as picking out fruits, and as well as your not so simple outfits. You were once in a higher place in society. Loveless marriage in nobility was more common than one may think and yet your mamá tried to love your father as best as she could.

Camilo looked at you, nodding a little and offering you a reassuring smile. He was listening.

“Until the beatings started.” You whisper, voice trembling as you try not to break down in front of the Madrigal boy whose expression had been appalled. “At first it was just scolding, y’know? Father would get mad, he would yell and shout.. and then it snowballed into harsh squeezes, pinches, and my mamá, my poor mamá thought that it was nothing. Couples fight all the time, she said.”

You were always so careful as to not anger your father. Your mother, when you would manage to mess up, would always take the blame in order for your father to spare you but she couldn’t hold him off for long.

The squeezes and pinches turned into full hits and slaps. You mamá wore nothing but long sleeved tops and skirts that reached down to her shoes. Her face was always caked on with powder and covered with a silk fabric to hide the bruises your father inflicted on her. You had bruises as well though not as much as your mamá, it was mostly from pinches or slaps on the back of your headvwhenever you would say something he didn’t like.

You can still remember the day that he got her scar and you grimaced, hugging yourself. Camilo would place an arm around you. He didn’t speak. He wanted you to know that he was there for you and to take your time. “Don’t force yourself, princesa.” And again you would shake your head. You wanted him to know. No more secrets.

“The last straw was when he lashed out on me.” Your voice shook. “He was drunk, he was angry and I dropped something. I was clumsy. I didn’t mean to. I don’t even remember what I dropped.. but my father, he was so angry was going to.. he had a navaja in his hand, he was out of control. There was glass breaking and mamá, all I saw was mamá on the ground and blood on the floor.”

Camilo shut his eyes tightly, already knowing what became the outcome of the incident. The scar that ran through your mamá’s face.. was caused by your father.

“And that was it. After that we had snuck off in the dead of night. We didn’t know where we were going but we heard whispers. Somewhere safe, in the mountains where no one could find us.. there was a cart bound for Encanto and now here we are..” You swallow thickly as you finish your story, chest heaving up and down and tears threatening to roll down your eyes.

“I’m sorry, about my mamá, she wasn’t like that before.. She was gentle, kind, and always so helpful but..” Camilo slowly shook his head. You didn’t need to explain anything more but you continued.

“She’s just.. afraid, afraid that I would end up being a fool in love with a man like my father. Afraid that I’m going to get myself hurt.” You admit. “Not that I ever thought you would hurt me.” You quickly added. “I promised myself I wouldn’t fall for someone unkind, promised myself I would find someone who wouldn’t hurt me and would always treat me right.. and I think I fulfilled that promise.” You glanced at him before looking away quickly, your cheeks turning warm.

And Camilo was taken aback, his heart hammering against his chest as he quickly whipped his head towards your direction, eyes wide and heat creeping up to his cheeks. He had honestly looked dumb, gaping at you like a fish.

“I.. you..” He stammers out. Was he hearing right? Did you just..?

“You heard right!” Dolores’ voice had quipped from inside the room next door. “.. Sorry!” She calls out her apology for ruining the moment.

And as you two had sat in silence, cheeks burning hotter than any sunny day that Pepa had made, he held your hand in his.

“I think you fulfilled that promise too.” Camilo says bashfully before clearing his throat. “I want to prove myself to you and your mamá first though. I want to do this right. I want to earn both you and your mamá’s trust. And to prove to you that I will never ever hurt you.” Your eyes would widen at his declaration before he gently made you look at him.

“If I should ever raise my hand at you, it is only to caress your face in my hands. If I should ever shout, it is only to let the world know how much I love you.. know that I will never hurt you. Te prometo esto. This is the promise that I will fulfill to you, mi princesa, mi amor.”

Your father is a dick, Camilo would jump him with the Madrigal Family if he ever showed up.

Also Camilo being the absolute king he is. I hope you guys liked this one. Though as always I would love to hear your thoughts!

taglist: @writing-shroom @ilorichi

their favorite parts of the braiding process

summary: lmfao it’s just the title

genre | includes: headcanons, sfw, black reader, gn reader, established relationship

characters: eren jaeger, mikasa ackerman, armin arlert, sasha braus, jean kirschtein, connie springer, levi ackerman, hange zoe, erwin smith, historia reiss, ymir (not fritz), reiner braun, annie leonhardt, bertholdt hoover, marco bodt, miche zacharius, nanaba, zeke jaeger, yelena, onyankopon, pieck finger, porco galliard

author’s note: got my hair done a few days ago and i’ve been experiencing insane aot brainrot so here we are. ignore the way these got progressively longer lol. this was fun and i have some other ideas, maybe college won’t kill me before i post them. enjoy and lemme know what you think :)

the take down – you can’t really place them. they never want you to take your old hair out, but are all giggly with the scissors when you assert that it’s time. they can’t help it. even with all the build-up on your scalp, they think the return of your natural hair is something out of a fairy tale. they love the curl pattern left in your hair after weeks of being in braids and they love separating the braiding hair from your own. the scene stays the same: you’re on a pillow on the floor between their knees while a shitty hallmark romcom plays on the tv in front of you. both of you are armed with rattail and wide tooth combs, mentally preparing for all the shedding and breakage you’ll be brushing off the couch for the next few weeks. it’s routine at this point for them to jokingly hover the open scissors over the part of your braid where you know damn well your hair is and ask if they can cut from there. it’s also routine for the scissors to get snatched right out of their hands as you proceed to cut way below where your hair could logically be because “after all the time i spent fighting people in walmart for the mielle oil, i better have a natural 40 inch buss down under all this xpressions”. 

EREN, ymir, PIECK, zeke (cut your hair like an inch from the scalp while removing butterfly locs one time and, to this day, you’ve never seen someone more terrified), nanaba, YELENA, onyankopon

the wash – they’re probably more excited about your hair getting washed than you are. they miss giving you scalp massages without having 6 weeks worth of gel and leave in conditioner left under their nails. what they didn’t get was why it took so long. it probably sparked an argument because they never spend that much time washing their hair, so why do you? it wasn’t until you made them watch as you and your detangling brush fought with your curls under the stream of water and nearly blacked out from the heat that they realized why the water bill was so high. to save your aching arms (and hopefully some extra cash) they offered to wash your hair for you. they nearly waterboarded you the first time, but with practice, they got better.  now, nothing relaxes them more than lathering shampoo through your hair and occasionally spraying water in your face when you look too at peace. they buy you a salon wash basin for christmas so you both can stop crouching over the tub which is great, but where the fuck are you supposed to install it?

MIKASA, erwin, sasha, REINER (has the cutest smile when you sigh in response to him scratching that one spot on your scalp), hange, jean, annie, porco

the blowout – they don’t realize, especially if your hair is type 4, that detangling during the wash is only half the battle. it doesn’t matter how silky smooth it got in the shower, the second the blow dryer is out, it all goes to hell. i hope you’re not tenderheaded because the fight between them and your curls is long and painful. but it's a battle they refuse to let you fight. god forbid you try to blow out your own hair– they get sooo upset. which confuses you because the way they grumble under their breath while passing the comb attachment through your hair has you convinced they’re only doing it to work out some unresolved stress. the truth is, they just know you’ll forget to use heat protectant and wind up frying your hair. and they know how upset you get when you realize some of your roots didn’t get stretched. so they’ll (gently) muscle their way through the most stubborn tangles any day if it means getting to see you smile at how healthy your hair looks and how much it has grown since the last time you saw it like this. they love how your hair now floats around you. they don’t love how sore their arms are. “damn, no wonder you’re so strong.”

connie, PORCO, BERTHOLDT, armin, miche, MARCO (probably cries when the comb extension breaks in your hair)

the beauty supply runs – the simultaneously dull and fluorescent lighting casts an otherworldly glow over the aisles of gel, deep conditioner, kankelon hair, and wig glue. for some reason, there’s always a childlike gleam in their eye as they scan the wigs along the wall. you have to hold their hand every time so they don’t wander off. it’s not like the store is big–you could probably read each other’s lips while standing on opposite sides–but if given the freedom to roam, you’d be leaving $250 poorer than you planned for with bags full of stuff you absolutely don’t need. “babe we have matching bonnets, we don’t need them in zebra stripes too.” if you can convince them to stick with you, they’re snatching every bottle you pick up out of your hand. before you can even begin questioning them, they’ve already started reciting information about the ingredients of the products and why it isn’t good for your hair’s porosity. you can only stare dumbly as they hand you a better option to try because you have no idea when they would have had time to do any of this research. the favorite part of the trip for both of you is picking the color you’re doing next. the average passerby would think you’re trying to decide which wire to cut so you don’t detonate a bomb with how hard you both scrutinize the packs of color 30 and 350 in front of you (ginger is always your color)

HANGE, marco, mikasa, ONYANKOPON (will give you the dirtiest look if you so much as glance at a cantu product), pieck

the parting – this is the first step of the actual installation process that you involve them in. before they used to sit next to you on the couch as you did it all yourself, committing every movement your fingers made to memory and keeping you company. they would frown as you cursed your lack of ability to see perfectly behind your head and parted the same section over and over again. they wanted to offer help, they really did, they just didn’t trust themselves enough. so when you both started working from home and you didn’t care what your parts looked like, you let them try. it wasn’t perfect the first time, or the second. for about a month, you rock faux locs with a scalp that looks like the drawing on your fridge gifted to you by your 5 year old nephew, but that’s what beanies are for. rough start aside, they pick up on it quickly. they figure out how much gel you really need for your braids to look neat and don’t overdo it. wielding the comb with confidence, they cut through your hair like butter. soon they’re parting your hair into boxes, hearts, arches, diamonds, and whatever else you could imagine like moses did the red sea. “babe do you think it would look good if i make one of them look like my initials?”

ARMIN, eren, levi, ERWIN, ZEKE, historia (got really good really fast… hisu who do you fuck in the city when i’m not there?), bertholdt

the braid down – they’re in awe of the dexterity of your stylist's fingers as she adds pieces of braiding hair to your own and hardly looks down while nimbly braiding all the way to the ends. they sit through all your appointments–locs, press and curls, protein treatments, wig installs–but nothing fascinates them as much as the art of a simple braid. they ask all sorts of questions about what your stylist is doing and even start putting hair on the rack to make the process go smoother. they pay even more attention when you do it yourself because they aren’t worried about distracting anyone from doing their job. before long, they know almost everything there is to know about your braids except for how to do them. and they want to know so badly. the opportunity arises when you both relocate to a new city and all the “stylists” are charging $300+ for smedium mid-back knotless braids. you’d do it yourself, but you broke two fingers during the move-in process and aren’t skilled enough to work around it. you think you need to coach them through the process, but are pleasantly surprised when they get the grip right the first time and are halfway down by the time you’ve picked what movie trilogy you want to watch. turns out they’d been watching youtube videos and taking lessons from your old stylist so they could do it for you one day. at least that’s what they tell you, they really just like popping your head with the comb when you move from where they positioned it. “ow! stop pushing my head around” “keep your head still and i’ll think about it”

LEVI, yelena, YMIR (does the thing where she talks on the phone with it tucked in between her shoulder and her ear while braiding at top speed, like just put it on speaker), onyankopon, mikasa, armin, ANNIE

the finished product – they are NOT here for delayed gratification. they want to see your hair done and they want to see it now. they get more restless than you do and they’re not the one getting their thoughts and dreams braided for 5 hours. like why are they more upset about the infamous last braid that gets split into 4 more than you are? “man what the fuck are you so upset about? this is not your scalp??” it’s nice having them around regardless. whether or not they’re helping with the actual braiding, they’re your biggest supporter. they’ll grab you (and the stylist if you aren’t doing it yourself) mcdonalds, boil the water to seal your ends, oil your scalp, mousse your hair, trim the flyaways, sweep up the stray hair, etc. knowing how tired you are, all the time consuming clean up is their self-allotted duty. but once all of that is done, they get to do what they’ve been waiting for: admire you. without fail, the second you stand up they’re taking pictures from every angle, showering you with compliments (ginger really is your color), peppering your head with kisses, but most importantly, just looking at how beautiful you are. you outdo yourself every time and they tell you as much, even if it embarrasses you. 

HISTORIA, connie, pieck, hange, SASHA, reiner, JEAN (the heart eyes this man has for you…and don’t get me started on the sketches he makes of you with every new style you get. he is SO whipped)

© mamasbakeria 2023. do not repost, translate (without permission), or modify

been thinking about this all day

attack on titan actor!au headcanon where mikasa discovers the joy of tiktok thirst traps

it's probably historia's fault. she asked mikasa to learn a dance with her and when she realized how much people liked it, she was hooked.

the cast will not know peace and neither will the fans.

there's 100% a clip circulating on twitter of her that's just like the one of alexa demie from euphoria singing yo voy in the car

thirst trap mikasa has the internet in a chokehold

i’ll commit heinous crimes to ensure that at 3pm EST on friday april 22nd i have floor seating for the july 3rd skz concert in chicago

idk i will hold bang chan’s hand

JEONGYEON ♡ SET ME FREE 230317 twice @ music bank

in which you unexpectedly reunite with high school sweetheart!touya

cw/tw: pro hero!touya who is messy, touya’s pro hero name is blueflame, drug use mention, alcohol use and mention, reader is a detective/cop, bar fight woo, use of guns, mentions of blood, mention of a grandparents death, angst and a little fluff, not beta read

wc: 4.9k

a/n: this is a follow up to my ua student!touya piece. you can read this without reading that but it’s more fun if you dooooo wink wink.

the number five hero is slightly beefier than he was three years ago; still lean in comparison to the likes of his hulk of a father or his broad shouldered little brother, but the biceps outlined by his tight fitting hero suit are not the same ones you once habitually wrapped your arms around. his old snake bites have been exchanged for a single hoop on the right side of his lip. long gone is the eyebrow piercing you used to hold between your fingers as a threat when his teasing would become a little too obnoxious, and in place are two additional studs on his nose that join the original to form a triangle shape. his snow white hair has been tainted by the tips, now dyed black. you think it looks like he’s been sweeping the soot out of a chimney; you wonder if the same idea has ever crossed his mind. he always did have a tendency to beat you to your own joke.

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