#AT LEAST IN THE SPANISH TRANSLATION HE DOES | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

palskippah · 18 days ago

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Hi! Nimona told him to do a thumbs up (also I hope you get the reference image because I couldn't find it ajkdsad)

There's some mpreg headcanons and drawings under the cut! :D

By the way the limit of images is 30 so I had to make some longer images with comics to save space and put more drawings 😭

-Also, small continuation from the previous drawing:

(I wrote baby album but maybe it should be those albums that people keep of the pregnancy process ajskd)

-When Ballister first started showing, he was a bit insecure about it, but Ambrosius helped with that, in the romantic sense of worshipping and whatever, but also like this:

Translation (did my best to see how to translate it sorry sdjksd it works better in spanish)

1 Ballister: I think it's too soon to be getting fat- Ambrosius: You know what else is getting fat? 2 Ambrosius: Who said that

-Ballister goes through the denial of needing new clothes, so imagine him still wearing the stuff he usually wears and Nimona coming from behind and picking at the clothes by his shoulder and going in a high-pitched voice, as if the shirt was talking - I'm tired, boss while Ballister swats her away and say, leave me alone, it still fits me >:(

(it doesn't)

>Also Ballister absolutely refusing to wear maternity clothes, the only one he got he was like, wearing it and looking very unimpressed, and Ambrosius' like, you don't like it? :( and Ballister says, No. It's ugly as fuck >:(

>So, he just gets bigger shirts and stretch-ier pants and that's it. Also he gets an oversized hoodie and he says that's gonna be his best friend the rest of the pregnancy, and both Nimona and Ambrosius gasp offendedly at that.

So-

Ambrosius (turning to look at Nimona): What the- hey, I am his best friend. Nimona: Course not! You lost that privilege with what happened that one time (she means the movie events, more than five years ago) Ballister: Ambrosius' my best friend, Nimona. Ambrosius: HAH >:D Nimona: Aw :( Ballister: Because you're my sidekick :) Nimona: :D Ambrosius: Hey, what now- that sounds better than best friend :(

-Ballister during most of the pregnancy is like, woo baby :) but at the very last months he's at least half of the time pissed off, tired and done with being pregnant.

(my incredible math skills in the next point)

>70% of that time he's mad at Ambrosius (who made him pregnant), 20% mad at Nimona (who consciously (and sometimes unconsciously) gets on his nerves) and the remaining 10 he's pissed off at Baby (and he gets sad about that one, because he's just a baby, so he redirects it at Ambrosius instead 😔)

>Ambrosius does his best to be of help but usually there's nothing he can do aside from being there (and sometimes getting out of Ballister's sight, if he's really angry- in the sense of 'I don't even want to see you now')

>Most of the time Ballister just cools off.

-Also Ambrosius giving him massages, sometimes randomly on his shoulders or his feet, and sometimes something more elaborated, like Ballister laying down and him using body oil, setting the ambient and all to massage his back (and Ballister almost always falls asleep in those).

>Sometimes tho he just does a 'chop chop chop' at his shoulders (it doesn't do anything besides amusing Ballister and keeping him company)

>Also Nimona said that of course he'd just randomly start chopping Ballister while Ballister does nothing about it, so Ambrosius starts chopping her instead

(made these two drawings with like three weeks of difference ajdkad)

(N/SFW thingies on the next four points and the next four images)

-Also with that previous point imagine Ballister waking up all angry, and Ambrosius just not knowing what he can do for him to stop being mad, but it turns out that Ballister had just woken up horny and pent-up.

>And once he realizes, he's like Ambrosius... (with intentions of getting some), and Ambrosius is like 🧍? because a second ago Ballister wasn't even looking at him.

-Also with this, Ballister is just very much hornier now (after the first trimester which was the worst) and Ambrosius doesn't mind at all - except when his jaw gets sore or he's running late for work because they lost track of time and also other situations ajsdks but usually he's delighted.

>(In the drawing Ballister just crossed one leg over the other once he heard Ambrosius coming in, because he can't maintain the position too long without getting uncomfortable sdjksj)

-Whenever Ballister is like >:c and looking in Ambrosius' direction, he immediately assumes that his husband is angry at him.

>Y'know when you look intensely at someone so they feel your gaze and look at you back? Ballister here is trying to apply that, but it doesn't work bc of the previous point askdad

-I had written sometime (I think) about them blaming Baby on literally anything that has more or less to do with him. If Ballister's crying, if he forgets stuff, if Nimona coddles Ballister too much and pisses him off, if Ambrosius wastes all the cleaning product in two weeks because he had been cleaning too much (he's nesting and realizes that sometime later), if Nimona and Ballister eat the weirdest stuff that at least he wouldn't eat in normal circumstances- and a long etc.

-During Ballister's pregnancy, Nimona works the most she had ever worked in her existence (in the biscuit factory):

-Both Nimona and Ambrosius are the most supportive c: yippie. Supportive husband/best friend and supportive sidekick/friend/sibling/etc

>An example would be of Ballister being tired, and if the time allows, the other two will immediately suggest a nap.

>Their collective naps usually last hours and they wake up disoriented, sweaty, with drool and the sheets marked on their faces.

>Also they wake up almost always stacked, Nimona always under the other two.

Translation

Nimona and Ballister: (snoring) Ambrosius: Fuck- what year is it? (tries to lift himself up)

-Also Nimona is the self-assigned pregnancy pillow, and at first Ballister had refused to let her do that, but as a sidekick she took it upon herself to make sure that her boss was comfy and could sleep well - and Ballister reminded her that that's not what sidekicks are for. She said, fuck off I'll do it anyways >:c

>Anyways he sleeps great with her help and earns himself a huge told you so from Nimona.

>I had written a thingy where just when she woke up she was like good morning boss :D while Ballister also said good morning and she hugged him while pushing Ambrosius away, even out of bed. I can't remember where I left it but once I find it, I'll see if it's good for posting pipipi Also Ballister and Ambrosius are corny husbands

>Also here I drew my vague idea of a bear bc I was too lazy to look for Nimona bear references sowwy

-Nimona sometimes shapeshifts into Ballister to make fun of him.

(This one joke gets lost in translation which is a shame but I'm gonna share the comic anyways sdjs)

>(She's messing around about names, doing a play in words using Gloreth's name while Ballister is already warning her to stop)

>Nimona urges them to get a name soon because Baby is almost born, and they're like yeah chill we're on it - and they're both sitting on the sofa, with Ballister's legs over Ambrosius' lap, while Ballister goes through their list on his tablet and Ambrosius focuses on giving him a massage on his feet.

They're like-

Ballister: So, Cyril? Ambrosius: No, my horse at the Institute was called that. Ballister: Right, then not that one... What about Casper? Ambrosius: Hmm... no. Ballister: Why not? Ambrosius: I don't know, I just don't really like it. Do you? Ballister: Eh, it's alright, I guess. I don't think Baby looks like a Casper, though Nimona: You don't even know how he looks yet! Ballister: You shut up, kid >:v Ballister: So, what about…

And they're making nearly to none progress but yeah sjdsd

>Also imagine Nimona (as Ballister) imitating what he does now that he's pregnant but x10 times more.

Translations

1 AUGHH- MY BACK 2 FUCKING AMBROSIUS! 3 Ambrosito? Can you get me a sweet treat? 🥺 4 I'M HUGE WAAA

>And while Ballister is like wtf I don't act like that, he turns to Ambrosius like, do I act like that? 😥 And Ambrosius, who was laughing to himself, goes, well... not so intensely, which is good enough for Ballister.

>But Nimona points out to what Ballister is eating with a mocking smile (and it is weird to be mocked by a version of himself that has a pink strand on his hair, but whatever), and he's like ? what? and realizes that he did ask for a sweet treat almost like Nimona depicted he does, because he did pull the big sparkly eyes and he did call Ambrosius Ambrosito while at it.

>Then he's wondering if he really complains about his back like that (he does, but as Ambrosius said, he isn't so intense about it, usually just holding his lower back and throwing his head back as he winces. Normal)

>(the yelling insults at Ambrosius is definitely not true. But he does throw daggers at him with his eyes when he's angry, he has to admit to himself)

>Now, about crying because he feels huge- yes. Very much true, but he doesn't wail. Just sobs and cries a river like the sensible, serious adult he is.

-Also that thing of knights don't cry and whatever. This one knight does cry, and he cries a lot (at least while he's pregnant).

>He cried once because he dreamt that Nimona was a little spider and even though he warned Ambrosius to be careful, he accidentally crushed her and he woke up not only incredibly sad but also upset with Ambrosius, even though he was aware that it was silly to get mad with him over a dream.

>Nimona was like boss :( while hugging him, and Ambrosius had to scoot a bit away because Ballister didn't even want to look at him as he wept. Ambrosius said a lot of reassuring words of I'm sorry, I think I didn't see her :( while Ballister was like, but I warned you so many times :'[

>Then he was like, I promise you, I'd never hurt Nimona. And Nimona herself said, yeah boss, I'd crush him first, don't you worry about it :) and Ballister said, but I couldn't protect you :''[ while hugging her harder.

>And both Nimona and Ambrosius are (internally) like, ohh, so that's what it's about.

>Anyways, just a bunch of hugging and comforting gets him to feel a little less sad and also Nimona saying, but you're great at protecting me now :D so, there's all that sdjksd

-Sometimes Ballister just breaks down over seemingly the most trivial stuff too (which is usually just the last straw over a bunch of other stuff going on)

Translation

1 Ambrosius: Balli? What happened? D: Ballister (with one eyeline going up and the other going down): Ambrosito, my eyeline's crooked* *the straw that broke the camel's back (his hair isn't cooperating) (his back hurts) (done) (clothes feel uncomfortable) (the baby won't stay still) 2 Ambrosius (doing Ballister's eyeline): Stay very still, love (focused) 3 (they're in front of the mirror) Ballister (laughing his ass off): BUT HOW DID YOU MAKE IT EVEN MORE CROOKED?! Ambrosius (embarrassed): Aw Ballister (holding his belly): Ow, Baby, don't kick me, sorry, sorry! I'll stay still now-

>(Y'know when a pregnant person laughs the baby inside gets all shaken skdsd I find it funny, so imagine Baby being like ??!! because Ballister keeps laughing too hard and shaking him all around and his kicks are like him going, stay the fuck still D:<) (Ballister's still weepy but now he's crying with laughter, which is better than him crying from being overwhelmed)

-Also Ballister's very scared of giving birth but he's very good at pretending that Baby will simply materialize in his arms rather than him having to push him out.

(Drawings based over this)

Translation

1 Ballister happy because his baby is almost born 2 (Remembers that he has to give birth to him)

-The day that he was in labor and all, imagine the water just breaking and stuff and Nimona being like 'okay everyone DON'T PANIC' while panicking and also Ballister's panicking too (Ambrosius' at work and when he's told he also panics and arrives at the hospital in record time still wearing his armor. The power of first-time father panic)

(But someone gotta be not panicking in the situation, so Ambrosius calms the fuck down and becomes the calming presence that Ballister can rely on c: also Nimona calms down too and goes back to being herself and is very good at distracting Ballister while he goes through contractions and the hours before pushing.)

>Also y'know how in TV sometimes someone else imitates the pregnant person's breathing exercises by going huff huff huff quickly ajsdkjd

>Also Ballister going Nimona what about the bags and also don't carry me there?! and her going shit right and ignoring the second half, then returning for the bags and grabbing them, all while holding Ballister like a doll (a doll with a little doll inside SJDS pregnant barbie)

En español pensaba que fuera = AYÚDENLO, SE LE SALE LA WAWA - NIMONA DEJA DE HACER SHOW

-Wrote a lil something about Baby's birth and Ballister going through kinda a rollercoaster of emotions because at the very beginning of the pushing stage he almost had a panic attack, but then everyone in the room helped him calm down, and when he thought everything was going great, the doctor offered Ambrosius to receive their baby, and of course his husband was very excited about it and said yes, getting dressed up in the medical gown, the facemask, the gloves and all that.

(Initially everything after that was supposed to go swiftly, but I thought, no, what if Ambrosius faints like some dads do? and after watching a TikTok of a woman whose partner did faint and they had to pause her birth to hold him up because he was like over 6 feet tall, I was like hell yeah that's it)

>When Ambrosius finally got between Ballister's legs to look, his blood pressure went the fuck down. And since he's pretty tall and the nurse that tried to catch him was pretty short, the other one had to join in and then the doctor too to avoid him slamming on the ground. The thing was that Ambrosius was clearly fighting very hard against unconsciousness, giving the three people holding him false hope about him finally holding his own weight, making them almost drop him multiple times.

>Sensibly, the situation was kinda scary, because the three people assisting his baby's birth were busy trying to hold his husband from fainting. Said husband was clearly fighting with everything he got to keep himself conscious, and Ballister could very much feel his baby crowning.

>But seeing three short people trying to hold Ambrosius up and yelping when they almost dropped him several times, and remembering that Ambrosius had been so excited about it but hadn't been able to even stand the view, and feeling pretty nervous because his main emotional support couldn't even keep himself awake-, made him crack up.

>So, he's laughing out loud and going every once in a while, owfuck- because it still hurts like a bitch, while the other three keep going, YOU'LL DROP HIM. BE CAREFUL, SIR?? SIR, CAN YOU HEAR ME? and Ambrosius' like, yea- (faints again)

>(they're well aware that they gotta deliver the baby, so they're doing their best to hurry Ambrosius to get out of the way)

>The whole thing had made Ballister's body feel weak from the laughter, and he had to try and calm down to have strength again and push the baby out.

>As you'd guess, Ambrosius didn't receive their baby, and had to sit down and eat something sweet to not faint again, but he managed to stay on his feet well enough to cut the umbilical cord yippie.

>So anyways, Baby out, wrapped and all that, Ballister kept laughing more quietly about it and saying that they should mark the date in the calendar to celebrate Ambrosius fainting over almost delivering their baby. And Ambrosius' like hmm, I don't know Balli, maybe we could use this date for our son's birthday, don't you think? and Ballister's like OH RIGHT and now started laughing at himself.

I keep thinking of new stuff that contradicts what I already have posted, sowwy

>Imagine Ambrosius practically begging Ballister to not tell Nimona, while the other says she'd love to know but also is aware that she'd never let Ambrosius live it down, so he agrees on not telling her. Both eventually tell both Nimona and Baby when the latter is older and inquired about his birth, and indeed, Nimona loved the anecdote, and never let Ambrosius live it down, since then.

-Ideas about Nimona infiltrating the room in the form of a nurse after Baby is born and blowing up her cover when she commented on the baby's nose being just like Gol- Mr. Goldenheart's. And also, his hair being black like Bo- Mr. Goldenheart's.

>At the beginning when they had been admiring their baby, Ambrosius had said, he got your hair D': pipipi (he cried the second Baby got placed in his arms, got a drawing of that but I don't like how it came out wah, Ambrosius' wearing a facemask and being all tear-eyed pipipi) and Ballister had said, he got your nose :D but Ambrosius had said no? that's just a baby's nose, how can you even tell. But after Nimona commented on it, Ballister's saying told you so, it's your nose, while Ambrosius' like, Mr. Goldenheart could be either of us (both smiling amusedly because Nimona's too silly and they clearly know it's her, but she's all idk who's Nimona?)

-Also, I don't know how to make that work with the idea that when she got kicked out to the hall for the pushing bit, she went to steal some flowers and balloons with 'it's a boy!' on them for Ballister. But anyways, I'll write that bit too.

-Also this is Goldenheart with their baby, and I drew it a while back but realized that I don't like it anymore, so I'll do a redrawing someday sdjksd

>Imagine that Ambrosius was in the hospital bed with Baby while Ballister was getting ready so they could leave to their home, and Nimona said pictures timeee and then took that pic, with Ballister pointing at Baby and being all :D Also, Ambrosius looked pretty good and all, and Ballister was all unshaven face, kinda messy hair, the hospital band with his name still wrapped on his wrist as he pointed at Baby, and yet there were some people online that were like ??! Ambrosius Goldenloin Goldenheart was pregnant??

>And the people that knew even if a little bit about the Goldenheart's life, and also because they still went out and whatever, were like ? no? didn't you see Ballister like, a week ago? (Where he was very obviously pregnant and Ambrosius clearly wasn't sdjkdj)

>Every once in a while, Nimona would remember about this and repost it again, even after Baby is much older.

And that's it! If you read till here, bless you ajsdkadj

I've got more stuff about mpreg, both written and drawn, so I hope to make another post like this sometime, they're very fun to make :D

#nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #goldenheart #my art #mpreg #i love them so much #giving Ballister the biggest honor I can as an artist -> making him pregnant #that's what he gets for being my favorite #se pone bien papi chulo #I reached the image limit again pipipi #they should let me put 238493 images not just 30 #also notice that bathroom I drew that barely looks like a bathroom jsdsd #apologies I was too lazy to look for references pipipi

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magicalmanhattanproject · 9 months ago

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Okay, so with Quackity Studios tweeting about adding new people and the need for tolerance and patience with people who don't speak English, let's just take a second and have a chat about what that's gonna look like.

First: you will hear things or read things on the translator that hurt or offend you.

This is inevitable. Do not immediately post about it. What you need tolerance for is hearing things that hurt or offend you and what you need patience for is figuring out of malicious intent was present or if this is a hill worth dying on right now.

As an example, we're pretty sure at this point that Korean is gonna be the next language added. The second person pronoun in Korean sounds a lot like the n-word in English. The n-word in English, if you're not aware, is like the single most offensive slur we have. It's not something that you want to hear unexpectedly. But also, if we get Koreans, they're gonna be using the word for "you" and English speakers are gonna have to be able to tolerate that.

On the other side of things, Korean has a complex system of honorifics and addressing someone without an honorific would be considered very forward and intimate at least if not very rude. None of the QSMP languages have honorifics though and only French really retains formality* so no one else is going to address them with honorifics unless they specifically explain it to people and walk them through it. That will probably be weird and uncomfortable for them and they're going to have to be able to tolerate that.

*Spanish and Portuguese do technically have formal vs informal but it's disappearing quickly in both of them.

These natural cultural clashes and pain points are going to be harder to overcome since we also know that at least some of these creators won't speak English at all so they can't just switch to English to helpfully explain things to us easily in a way we understand. We're going to have to deal.

So here's the thing: just because there can be cultural miscommunications and mistranslations, that doesn't mean that people can't also be assholes. How do you distinguish between the two?

Step One: Assume good faith. Assume that everyone in a given encounter is trying to communicate respectfully and compassionately and that a failure to do so can be overcome

Step Two: Don't get involved. Especially not in Twitch Chat. Two or more people trying to communicate through a language barrier does not get easier when they're also trying to wrangle hostile viewers.

Step Three: Are you sure you heard what you thought you heard or saw what you thought you saw? Did the translator fuck up? Is it a word that just coincidentally happens to sound like another word? If this is the case, the streamers can ask for clarification or use another tool and get it cleared up. Keep watching and see if they do.

Step Four: If they did say what you thought they said, are the streamers handling it? We had a thing a while back where Bad called some friends, including Bagi and Etoiles, uncultured because they didn't get a reference he was making and Etoiles was like "bro I'm French" and Bad apologized. That should have been the end of it, but I had to see people arguing about it for weeks. The problem was solved in 10 seconds.

Step Five: If the person is doubling down, are you sure this is something you can fix by yelling about it on Twitter or Tumblr? Would it be better to let people who actually know them talk to them behind the scenes? Pierre made a few missteps in the beginning of the server, Quackity said they had a chat, Pierre hasn't misstepped since. It's just easier to sort things out in private, one on one conversation than yelling at someone in public.

In short: it's fine to take note of behavior in case patterns start to emerge in it, but yelling on social media about how so and so is the worst person possible is not constructive.

#sorrelposting #qsmp

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messylustt · 1 year ago

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౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 3.2k words

fic masterlist previous part pt seven next part

angst but kinda fluffy? straight after; mention of past violence (minor) — you wanted to know what those spanish sentences miguel made you say meant, him having kept that to himself. and when you do, having scouted miles, you’re left…well…shocked. your friends are also left shocked wondering who asked you to say those things. when you go to question miguel about it you find him in a state you’ve never seen him in before.

You had desperately wanted to translate the Spanish Miguel had chosen not to tell you. So much so, that you had began to scout HQ for a Spanish native speaker. You were too prideful to use your phone for translation, plus Miguel said nothing on not asking someone.

You remember Miles saying his mum was Hispanic. Even if his Spanish wasn’t top notch you’re sure he’ll understand at least a few words. Understand the sentences Miguel made you say.

You spot Pav talking with some other spider variants, using large hand gestures. "Pav!" You call, walking up to him.

He shifts his gaze to you, a smile soon following. “Y/n. How are you?”

You smile. “Good…yeah, no I’m good. I was just wondering if you knew where Miles was?”

“Oh.” He spins. “I swear I saw him over there.” He points in a random direction. “…now he’s gone. Maybe with Gwen.” He nudges you, raising his brows. You chuckle, understanding the meaning of those raised brows.

“Well, this will only take a moment. I just need translation for something.”

“Translation? To what language?” Pav asks.

“From Spanish to English. And I heard Miles knows a bit.”

“Ah…wait, but doesn’t Miguel fully speak it?” Pav pauses. “Yeah, he’d know a lot more than Miles.”

You nod. “He just won’t tell me.” You mutter under your breath.

“What was that?” Pav asks, brows furrowed.

You look back up. “Miguel’s just kind of busy right now.” You had no idea if he was or not. “And so I thought Miles might be free.”

“I see.” Pav nods. “Come on, I’ll help you find him.” Pav begins to head down one of the paths in the communal area where bunches of spider variants sat and stood talking.

“Miles!” Pav called out to nowhere in particular. “Miles!?”

“Is yelling his name really gonna help?” Your brows furrow.

“I like to think yelling will conjure up the whole ‘spider-sense’ thing.” Pav says, still gazing around. “Wait, maybe I need to sound more in distress.”

You chuckle, looking around. And that’s when you spot Miles and Gwen. “Miles!” You walk over with a smile. Pav is hot on your heels.

Miles turns, and copies your smile. “Y/n, hey.”

“Okay look, I’m sorry to ask this but can you translate something for me?” You ask, hopeful.

Miles tilts his head slightly. “Yeah, sure. As long as it isn’t French, or Dutch, or Russian. Or practically any language I don’t know.”

Your smile widens. “No, no. None of those. It’s just Spanish.”

“Oh.” Miles stands straighter. “I’ll warn you I don’t know a heck of amount. But I can give it go.”

“Thank you.” You grow more excited in way. All of last night you had been thinking about what you had said, really trying not to just roll over and grab your phone.

“Okay, so it’s two sentences.” You begin. Miles nods. “The first one is…’Me encantaría usar…tu cama para otras…cosas’.” You say it somewhat slowly, making sure you got it right.

When you look back to Miles, he’s staring at you blinking. You stare back. “What?” You ask.

“Um.” He scratches the back of his head. “I’m probably hearing it wrong.” He mutters to himself before he’s looking back to an expectant you.

“What was the second one?” He asks, a little more curious this time.

“Uh…’¿No crees que…me vería bonita atrapada entre…tus sábanas?’”

Now miles is staring at you. You eye him, brows furrowed. “What does it mean?”

He coughs. “Who said that to you?”

“Oh, no I said it to someone.” You answer. “Well, they asked me to say it…”

“You said it someone…” he drifts off, slightly gulping.

“What? Is it…bad?” Your brows are further furrowed. “Come on, Miles, please. I’ve been dying to know what it means all of last night.”

“Well, the first one…it means ‘I’d love to use your bed for other things’.” He mutters it out extremely quickly. That you think you don’t catch it right.

“What?”

“And the second one means ‘don’t you think I’d look pretty trapped in your sheets?’.” Miles’ has looked away, scratching the back of his neck again, clearly a fraction flustered.

This time you’re staring at him, or more so through him. Then you blink. “What?” You repeat stupidly. That can’t be right. Why did miguel ask you to say something about his bed…

Now you weren’t dumb you were just…in shock. Because how does that make sense. And as the words settle in your mind a little more, you begin to feel the familiar burn in your stomach.

Recently your skin had begun to feel hot. In specific scenarios, around a specific someone. Every moment that he had touched you in some way you had either been injured, or fainting, so you hadn’t realised the reactions in the moment. But now, having your mind clear and your body healthy enough your skin grows prickly.

Then there was the touches on your chin…

At first you thought that they were a form of showing his superiority. It seemed like something he’d do. But when you really thought about it, you realised that he wasn’t grabbing Peter’s face like that, he wasn’t leaning over a chair that Gwen was sitting at.

Now you’ve grown hot. And your cheeks are probably bright red, considering how Pav is eyeing you. “Um.” You nod. You don’t know why you’re nodding. You just need to do something that isn’t stare off into space.

“Who, um, asked you to say that?” Gwen asks.

You shift your gaze to her, still slightly stuck in your own head. You felt the urge to fan yourself, but realised how implicating that would seem. Miguel got you to say that stuff? That seemed to be a repeating question in your head.

“Oh, uh, nobody.” You didn’t really want to tell them that it was Miguel. You felt it would put pressure on something that you were sure wasn’t even something. It wasn’t…right?

But now as you quickly thank miles and skim past them, your mind is whirring. Did Miguel…? You press your lips together at the thought, unbuttoning the first button of your dress shirt. You were sure you were reading into it. Though…part of you was actually hoping the underlying meaning you were thinking of was the truth.

You were even slightly shocked at yourself at this revelation. It’s as if it had always been on the tip of your tongue. Not falling off because Miguel is well…Miguel.

;;

“What was that about?” Pav asks, watching your leaving form. Gwen watches you go as well, eyes narrowing in her own inspection.

Miles was still going over the sentences in his head, really double checking he got them right. “Yeah…nah, that’s right.” He mutters. “My translations right.”

“Who asked her—“

“Asked who what?” Hobie appeared, clearly just back from a mission, as he leaned against Miles, resting his arm on his shoulder.

“Y/n.” Gwen says. “She asked Miles to translate something for her.”

“See, I knew this guy would be helpful.” Hobie slightly shakes Miles’ shoulders.

“I think someone has a crush on y/n.” Pav says, making Hobie shift his gaze to him.

“Who?” Miles asks, suddenly interested in the small ordeal.

Pav shrugs, but Hobie shakes his head, scoffing. Pav hadn’t seen you and Miguel interact a hell of a lot. Gwen didn’t pay that much attention to people’s gazes, and Miles was well…new. So, maybe Hobie could give them a break, but he still couldn’t believe how oblivious they were.

Hobie began to figure out Miguel’s little crush on you when Miguel had called him in for a last minute mission that Miguel could have easily done himself. He hadn’t needed Hobie.

And when Miguel’s jaw clenched at the mention of how he was supposed to be hanging out with you, Hobie began to clock on.

“Come on, you lot.” Hobie says staring at them. “Tell me, who speaks Spanish here? Fluently?”

Gwen looks down, thinking. “Miguel.”

Hobie nods. “Uh huh.” He presses, seeing their slightly furrowed brows. “Oh bloody hell, you lot are thick.”

“Oh…” Pav mutters. “Oh!” He realises, and Hobie gestures to him, sighing in relief.

“Thank anarchy.” He mutters, thankful one person caught on.

“Miguel likes y/n?!” Pav practically exclaims, earning a few side glances from other spider variants.

“It’d seem so.” Hobie smirks.

;;

Later that evening, you stood, not meaning to feel as flushed as you were. Standing in front of Miguel's bedroom door, you felt hot, your breathing quickening. After having found out what he got you to say—and having gone through the stages of confusion, denial and then shock—you've arrived back to sweaty palms.

You take a breath, knocking, but instead of the solid feel of the door, your hand falls through, the door having been cracked open a fraction—your nervous state must have forced you not to notice. It swings wider and your breath hitches.

Miguel's room is a mess, and not just his bed this time. Things are smashed, and his chair is thrown, lying lifeless on the floor. You then shift your gaze up to a heaving Miguel. He finally notices your presence, meeting your wide eyes.

Miguel had always been someone who was controlled. Sure, he got agitated easy, and clearly had some anger issues to deal with, but 'messy' was never a word you associated with him. And here he was hair ruffled, wet from the outside rain, and covering part of his eyes. His chest heaved to a mismatched beat, as his nose twitched in a snarl, his fangs very visible in the dim light. He looked like the definition of ‘a mess’.

"What are you doing here?" His low tone breaks you from your silent stance, your lips coming closed to rub against each other in...thought? You weren't entirely sure.

You gulp. "Did something...happen?" You scan his body for injuries, but find none. You glance at his open window. "Did you go on a mission?"

"Did you need something?" Miguel doesn't mean for his tone to come out so harshly. And watching your face twitch a fraction made him grind his teeth in annoyance at himself.

"I was going to ask you something, but..." Now you weren't so sure that this moment was the right one.

Miguel gulps, turning slightly away from you. "If you have nothing to say…go."

Yes, Miguel was acting clip and rude with you. And yes...maybe he did turn away so he wouldn't see your expressions. But then he hears your steps slowly draw closer. He shifts his gaze back to you.

Right now was the worst time to see you, he didn't want you to see him, he wanted you to go.

"I thought you had nothing to say?" Miguel briskly asks, but you caught the slight crack in his harsh tone. A crack that displayed a mix of emotions—stress, anxiety,...fear?

Before you know it you're moving closer, your feet, the rain and his breathing filling the other wise silent room. "Now's not a good time." His tone cracked even more. This time with anger.

You stop, a decent distance away. And maybe you should leave, leave him to this. But what is this? You voice that. "What is this?" 'This' as in the mess. 'This' as in Miguel's body language. He looked like he was not even a minute away from exploding.

"Are you...okay?"

Part of Miguel's facade broke at that. "I'm perfectly fine. Do I not look it?" He spits this, fully turning to you. Some droplets of water, that had drenched his hair slides down his cheek.

You know not to be taken aback by Miguel's words. But you'd never seen the word 'crazed' written in his eyes before...'frantic'. "No...you don't look it." You say, eyeing him. "You look...you don't look like yourself."

Miguel mockingly nods, his tongue dragging across one of his fangs, and actually drawing blood. "Right." He forcibly chuckles. "I forgot, I'm supposed to look...what? Composed? On task? In control?" He's stepped closer to you, each word coming out like a snarl.

"Not everything stays the same." Miguel is saying. "Not everything goes the way we plan." He grits out 'plan' like he despises the word altogether.

And as you glance from his hair to the window, to then his too clean of a suit, you realise something. It wasn't a mission, but he had gone somewhere.

"Miguel, where did you go?"

"I didn't go anywhere." He scoffs out.

"Yes you did." You say, narrowing your eyes in thought. And maybe now would be a good time to leave, leave him be. But of course you wouldn't, 'worry' now tieing you up tight. Then you pause. "Why are talking about things that don't go to plan? What hasn't gone to plan?"

"You know, you can be real nosy sometimes." Miguel wanted to punch himself. Why did he say that? You had never been nosy, only observant. Maybe too much for your own good, but it was surely a talent of yours. And here he was shaming you.

But in this moment you weren't fazed. Something was wrong. "Miguel, you've clearly just come in here angry. You're hair's wet from the rain, so obviously recently. Your room is a mess. It's never a mess. You're...never a mess."

"Oh, plenty of things can become a mess, y/n."

"Yeah, but never you. Sure, you've gotten angry before, but you've never trashed a room. There's glass on the floor...you broke that mirror." You gesture to the one hanging on the wall, a prominent fist imbedded in the middle.

"Don't tell me you're gonna deduce where I've fucking been by the glass?!" He was yelling. Not at you. Never at you. At himself. But he's always been very good at projecting. Especially when you're around.

"No." You breathe. "I'm asking you." You say, letting a hint of your concern shine through. You were concerned. Very concerned. Maybe Miguel would have noticed your concern, if he wasn't slowly loosing it. If the messed up room wasn't enough of a tell, he's hit his peak.

"What happened?" You ask again, and this time you finally get a response.

"I fucked up, okay?!" He exclaims, his heart pounding a mile a minute. "I can't take it back. And I've tried. I've really tried. But you know what? Maybe this is meant to happen. Maybe I'm meant to screw everything up."

You stare at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I..." Miguel drifts off, fisting his already disheveled hair. "I let them take it..." Hs voice has softened. But not to a nice kind of softened—a broken one.

You step a fraction closer. "Who? And take what?"

You can visibly see Miguel's strength ebbing away. He looks exhausted, and all in all done. Done with everything. You didn't like that look, you didn't like the inclination of it. "Miguel." You say slowly.

But he's going farther and farther back into his mind, getting tangled up in thoughts you could tell had begun to haunt him. Screwed up? What had he supposedly screwed up?

Then before your mind could work on overdrive, millions of questions wanting to surface, and before Miguel could step further back from reality, you stepped much, much closer, reaching up on your tip toes. And then you wrapped your arms around his neck...hugging him.

Miguel is frozen. Entirely frozen. His mind stops trying to murder him and the drowning sounds in his ears fade away. Now he can hear your breathing, a nervous beat clear. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know if he should do what he’s thinking.

But then you’re slowly drawing back, arms leaving his body. And he can’t have that. He swiftly wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back to him, as his hands clench around your shirt.

Your breathing hitches as Miguel’s breath hits your collarbone, his head choosing to rest in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing part of your skin.

No. He had told himself he wouldn’t think like that anymore. It was exhausting, and he was tired enough as is. His grip tightened around you. To all the doubtful voices in his head, he was using you to say ‘shut the hell up’.

You could feel Miguel’s entire body practically slump against yours. And though your cheeks were red hot, and your heart was screaming you wrapped your arms back around his neck, your wrists meeting together by his hair.

For once Miguel heard silence. He had always had too many voices in his head telling him this and that. And that ‘this was what has to be done’ and that ‘no, you can’t get distracted’.

Now he felt a much relieving calmness engulfing him. You. His breathing slightly shuddered against your neck, the open of his mouth leading his fangs to lightly brush across your skin.

You shivered at this, earning Miguel to lean his head back. But he didn’t let your waist go. You stopped those voices and he’d be damned if he let you step away from his body now.

Your breathes met, as did your gaze. You were close, the seeming millimetre making you seem even more so. You could feel Miguel’s fingers fiddle slowly with the back of your shirt, your front still pressed against his.

“I’m…” You gulp, your voice coming out much shakier than you intended. “Sorry…I probably shouldn’t have hugged you.” You could practically taste his breath.

“Yeah…you probably shouldn’t have.” His tone is breathy, sounding out of body, as his gaze flickers to your lips.

They’re dry—of course. And now at the close proximity licking them made you feel ten times hotter. You prayed he couldn’t see your blushing cheeks.

“I’m sorry that I just…sorta came in.” You felt you had to fill in the silence. Miguel didn’t seem to mind it though, cause it meant that he could listen to your voice. And replacing your voice with the one’s in his head is probably the smartest choice he could ever make.

Well maybe the second smartest choice… He stared at your freshly wet lips, breathing harder. His thoughts had changed from ‘how much more could he take’ to ‘how much more…more…more’. He wanted more. More of your closeness, this seemed to not be enough.

In response to his thoughts his hands glided up your back, making your body lean more against him. Chest to chest.

“A-and I probably shouldn’t have assumed all that stuff…” you breathe out, as Miguel tilts his head, looking down at you. It’s safe to say your were flustered.

“I think you did alright.” He partially whispered.

“Well…you’re not throwing a chair..so..” Stupid, stupid, stupid—you think to yourself. “I mean…”

And to your shock you notice his lips begin to curve up. And not just to stop at a certain point. No. His lips continued to widen until he was smiling. An actual, genuine smile, that oozed amusement, and it made him look…happy?

“Careful.” You say. “You look like you’re expressing a ‘sparkly emotion’.”

“Oh no.” His grin doesn’t fall, and it only makes your heart beat faster. “We wouldn’t want that…would we?”

You quickly shake your head, and Miguel presses his lips together with further amusement, his eyes darting. “…cute.”

You freeze. And Miguel seems to realise his small slip up, as his eyes grow a fraction wider. He had slipped up in English. Goddamn English. You understood.

But what he didn’t know was that you understood a lot more than just that word. And as the reason for your arrival to his room came back to you, the simple word ‘cute’ seemed to mean a whole lot, lot more.

I’m sorry this one’s kinda short, and not too much is going on. but I wanted them to have a close moment like this before they…well…y’know.

at this point I’ve decided to do nine parts (it fits better) so next part…mhm…FINALLY we can get some closer HaPpIniNgS

plus next part im gonna go onto a deeper dive of where Miguel went and who the masked men are — i just needed a bit of tension filled fluff

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbbo @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright

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spdrwdw · 1 year ago

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Pairing: 1042 Miguel X f!reader Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI) fluff, smut, food play (Is that a term?), Miguel has a weird kink ( it is still kinktober, after all), oral-m/f receiving, slight breeding kink, unprotected intercourse, no use of y/n Summary: Miguel seems to have a sweet tooth. Not only for the birthday cake you are making for Gabriella's birthday, but also for you. Word Count: 2018 A/N: Thank you to @phoenixflower468 who requested some earth 1042 Miguel content! I will continue working on my other requests. Thank you to those who submitted requests to help my writer's block! ALSO; if you'd like to be tagged for my future fics, please let me know! No translations at the end. I figured most of Miguel fic readers already know some of the Spanish pet names and phrases used by now, lmao Check out more of my work on my Masterlist

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Tomorrow was Gabriella’s birthday and you were scrambling getting the cake finished. It was already eleven at night and you were covered in flour and frosting. Or was it icing? You could never tell them apart. Anyway, you were decorating the cake when you heard footsteps coming down from the stairs.

You quickly paused what you were doing, trying to hear the footsteps. They were too heavy to be Gabriella’s. Miguel was coming downstairs to check on your progress.

“Miguel. Mi amor, I thought you were sleeping already,” You spoke softly as he made his way into the kitchen, taking a seat on the stool across from you.

“I miss you,” he pouted. God. He was too adorable. He was six foot nine of pure muscle and dad bod and yet he was the most adorable thing in the world. Besides Gabriella, of course.

“Lo siento, Miguel. I’m just trying to get this cake finished,” You apologized as you went back to work. Thankfully, those baking lessons you took back in college were finally paying off. The cake didn’t look half bad at all.

“Why are you making a cake rather than just buying one?” He asked as he took a bit of leftover frosting..or was it icing..and licked it from his finger. You couldn’t help but to bite your lip at the sight. The simplest things this man did made you go feral. It just wasn’t fair.

He noticed your expression and smirked. Oh, he was such a bastard!

“What?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

He simply contained the smirk on his face and grabbed more of the frosting onto his finger and opened his mouth, tongue sticking out slightly before slipping his finger in, letting out a moan.

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to keep your composure.

“I still need that, you know?”

Miguel chuckled and shrugged. “You know how I get around sweets, querida. I have such a sweet tooth.”

You simply gave him a look before grabbing your things and went back to decorating the cake.

“Yes well, that sweet tooth of yours is going to have to hold off until tomorrow, Miguel. I can’t have you messing this up,” you grumbled, trying to concentrate on your work. You were almost done.

As you tried to concentrate on drawing up some flowers, you could feel Miguel’s strong arms wrapping around your waist, his chin resting against your shoulder as he watched you work.

“You’re doing amazing,” he complimented, placing a kiss on your cheek. You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to get you distracted.

“Thank you, mi amor,” you hummed, trying to not let him get to you. At least, not until you were finished with Gabri’s cake.

Surprisingly, he was actually behaving, watching you in admiration as you finished up the cake for your daughter.

“Looks perfect,” he hummed as you nodded your head in approval, marveling at your work.

“It does, doesn’t it?” You smiled, glancing over at him before pecking his cheek.

“Mind putting it in the fridge while I clean up?”

Miguel nodded his head and did as he was told before an idea popped into his head and he glanced over at you.

“Take the frosting upstairs with you,” he said, causing you to raise a brow.

“What? Why?” You asked as you continued to clean the kitchen island.

“I want to try something,” he stated.

“Try what?” You pressed, curious as to why Miguel wanted to take the leftover frosting upstairs.

“Just..I’ll show you when we get up there. Come on, mi vida. It’s getting late.”

—-

“What on earth? Miguel!” You gasped as you now laid completely naked in bed, with your hands tied above your head. It was to prevent you from stopping Miguel and his shenanigans.

Miguel shushed you as he squirted some frosting out of the piping bag and onto the bottom of your navel, leading a trail all the way down to your pubic bone.

“I told you I had a sweet tooth, mi vida,” he chuckled before he began licking the frosting off of you.

Your body twitched a bit and you tried to fight back a moan. You had to keep quiet. You didn’t want Gabriella to wake up.

“And you thought this would be a good way to ease your sweet tooth?” You questioned as Miguel began to coat your breasts with the frosting before taking a breast into his mouth, licking and sucking off the sweetness, swirling his tongue around your nipple and tugging at it before doing the same with the other breast. You couldn’t conceal your moans any longer.

“M-Miguel..please..” you breathed.

“Hmm? Please what?” Miguel asked, a smirk on his lips.

“You’re making me all sticky,” you pouted.

“Don’t worry, I’ll wash it off of you later,” he continued to smirk before taking hold of your chin and ordered you to open your mouth. You did as he said, and he squeezed some frosting into your mouth, keeping it along your tongue before he kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth to catch the sweetness.

“Mmm, tastes so much better coming from the pretty mouth of yours,” he moaned, licking his lips.

“Alright well, don’t be greedy. Let me in on some of that, too,” you stated.

Miguel chuckled and freed your hands before he began to take off his own clothes. Geez, how did you get so lucky to have a man like him as your husband and father of your child?

Miguel then laid down on the bed as you straddled his waist and saw him open his mouth, tongue hanging out as he waited for you to squirt some frosting onto his tongue. You did just that, shaking your head before leaning down and kissed him hard, all teeth and tongue as you tasted the sweetness in his mouth.

In no time at all, you were both sticky and smelling sweet. The piping bag was now discarded somewhere on the bed, and you were now sitting on his face. Honestly, it was the best seat in the house, if you had anything to say about it.

Miguel was eating you out as if your pussy was the sweetest thing on earth. Tongue slobbering over your folds, teeth nipping at your clit, and long fingers curled into you, hitting you at just the right spot, making you see stars. You couldn’t help but to grind against his face. Miguel could take it, though. He was sturdy.

You tried to cover your mouth to muffle your moans, your other hand stroking his meaty cock. You could feel the veins twitching as your wedding band rubbed against them. Leaning over, you finally took him into your mouth, slowly, of course. You could feel his moan vibrating through you as he continued to eat your pussy, causing you to moan out around his cock in response. After taking in as much of Miguel’s cock as you could, you began bobbing your head, the tip hitting the back of your throat every time.

It wasn’t long until you felt him twitching in your mouth, and you doubled down on your efforts, pumping him with one hand, and gripping his balls with the other as you continued bobbing your head.

You felt his tongue assaulting your pussy, running through your bundle of nerves while his fingers curled up and rubbed against that spot that made you see stars.

In no time at all, you were orgasming into each other’s mouths, and you didn’t dare to waste a single drop of him.

Before you could even blink, Miguel picked you up and flipped you over, pinning you down onto the bed, lining himself between you and rammed his cock into your soaked pussy.

“Oh! Miguel!” You gasped as he pounded into you. The wet, sticky sounds of skin hitting against skin bounced off the walls, filled with the harmony of yours’ and Miguel’s moans.

“You feel so good, mi amor. So fucking good,” Miguel groaned through gritted teeth.

“Kinda makes me wanna put another baby in you. Think that’d be okay?” He grunted. The thought of filling you up and getting you pregnant with another baby made his cock twitch inside of you.

Eh, the conversation of having another child did come up every now and then, and..yeah, why not? Gabriella deserved a sibling.

“M-Miguel..” You breathed, your mind going fuzzy as you tilted your head back against the pillows.

“Qué pasa, amor?” He cooed once he leaned over and pecked you on the cheek, his pace still brutal. You were so close to your orgasm, you gritted your teeth.

“Can’t handle my cock? Hmm? Is my pretty wife gonna cum?” He continued to coo, pivoting his hips against you in a more snapping manner.

“Cum over my cock, mi amor.”

And you did. Because when he commands you to do something such as this, you do it, gladly.

“That’a girl,” Miguel groaned, his thrusts getting sloppy as he reached his limit and came, coating your walls with his seed, filling you up just how you loved it.

Once he was finished, Miguel slowly pulled out of you and laid on top of you, however, didn’t put all his weight on you cuz, the man is huge.

Miguel rested his head over your shoulder as you both caught your breath. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer before kissing his cheek. You just loved him so much. He was a great husband, and a wonderful father. The best person you could ever imagine having as your life partner.

“You alright?” He then asked, a cheeky smile on his face as he gently rubbed your back.

“I’m fine, Miguel,” You giggled softly before kissing him sweetly just as you heard something coming from the hallway. Your eyes suddenly went wide.

Gabriella.

The bedroom door opened as you both scrambled to get your naked bodies under the covers.

Gabriella slowly stepped in, rubbing her sleepy little eyes as she held her stuffed bunny in one hand.

“Mamá? Papá?” She muttered.

“¿Qué pasa, mija?” Miguel asked softly as Gabriella stepped further inside.

“I can’t sleep,” she said, looking up at the both of you.

“Oh, Gabri. Do you want to sleep here with us?” You asked her, and she quickly nodded her head.

“Okay, go grab your blankie and your pillow.”

She then smiled and nodded her head before walking out of the room, and you and Miguel both bolted to the dresser and closet to grab some clothes and a quick change of sheets.

As you fixed up the bed, Miguel as in the bathroom getting himself cleaned up, and then you stepped into the bathroom to do the same just as Gabriella came back in, holding her bunny, blankie and pillow. She climbed onto the clean bed just as you both made your way back out of the bathroom. Miguel closed the door and turned off the lights and joined you two, wrapping his arms around Gabriella.

“Feel better, mija?” You asked with a smile and Gabriella nodded her head, grinning.

“Yeah! I kept hearing these weird sounds and I couldn’t sleep,” she said, causing you and Miguel to look at each other with slight embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, Gabri. Hopefully you won’t hear them again,” you told her, gently stroking her hair as she snuggled up against you. You noticed Miguel pouting over at you, to which you rolled your eyes and smirked at him.

“Let’s get some sleep. It’s your big day tomorrow,” you reminded her, kissing her cheeks as she giggled, nodding her head.

“Good night, ladies,” Miguel said, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you and Gabriella closer to him, having your daughter sandwiched in the middle; which she loved.

“Night night, papà,” Gabriella giggled.

“Goodnight, Miguel,” you smiled over at him and leaned over to give him a goodnight kiss, still being able to taste the frosting on his lips.

Perhaps you had a bit of a sweet tooth as well.

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Tags: @migueloharastruelove, @camzzn

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara smut #miguel smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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dudethatsmyundeaduncle · 9 months ago

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DP X DC AU Danny & The Little Dead Girl

(title pending lol, Danny and Curare adventures pt 2!) Pt 1 here My AU art

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Monday comes, as it is won't to do, and Danny has to go to school which means the baby halfa has to come to school too.

" ok, so, one rule for today, big rule, you gotta be quiet in class. Uh-"

Danny pulls his phone out of his pocket as their bus hits a pot hole. Sitting right at the front means they catch the momentum first and he has to hold Curaré against his side lest she go flying into the aisle.

A couple voices grumble behind them at the jostling as Danny gets his text to speech open.

" Necessitas ser quieto en clase. ¿Entiendes?" The Google robot lady voice translates for him.

Curaré blinks at him from behind her little paper face mask and looks from the phone to him curiously.

This is the game they've been playing since last night, Danny says something in English robo lady repeats it in Spanish.

Danny doesn't know if Curaré understands how the phone speaks or even that it does but she's giving him her favorite little blank expression so he assumes she gets it. At least, she hasn't really disagreed or disobeyed anything he's asked of her yet so...not gonna look that gift horse in the mouth Danny boy!

School goes well, mostly.

They get through the metal detectors and bag checks at the front entrance just fine. The security guards barely glance at Curaré once they confirm she isn't hiding a Glock or something under her shirt. Which it's kinda sad to know gun control is a cross-dimensional American problem but it's on brand if nothing else Danny thinks.

They get to first period without stopping at Danny's locker and settle down in two desks by the back door. This is Danny's usual spot, well usual as of a month ago, it's mostly empty back here now but Danny used to have a seat partner.

(A seat partner who had a kind of shady tweaker vibe that Danny would have been worried about but that kid went home early one day and never came back so....it's Curaré's seat now.)

The little dead girl looks even littler sat in the desk-chair combo, she can barely see over the top. Danny stacks three dictionaries under her for a boost then he gets her set up with some pencils and paper and the single highlighter he found on the floor his first day here.

Curaré seems vaguely interested in his offerings ,after Danny shows her how to use them to mark the page, and starts creating cautious marks of her own.

She keeps glancing back up at Danny as if to confirm that this is still fine? And he nods his head every time trying to be encouraging as it becomes obvious that nobody taught this kid to write inside Fosters Home for Real life Assassins. Which Danny thinks is poor planning on there part because really? If your Assassin can't write how the fuck were they supposed to leave ominous threatening warnings? Or fake suicide notes? Or any number of written props to flesh out a cover story.

Whatever, obviously the assassins raising Curaré sucked ass all around so he can't say he's surprised but he is majorly disappointed.

As the bell rings for first period a whole slew of teens rush in ahead of the teacher Mr. Berk. Simple guy, grey beard, coke bottle glasses, smells like Vics vapor rub, the works.

He's like the most chilled out version of Mr. Lancer ever so he's alright in Danny's books. Plus he only has one "rule", as long as your butt is in your seat by the time he calls your name for attendance he won't mark you late. In Gotham, where everyone and their brother has enough late marks from shitty public transportion to get detention, it's a pretty sweet rule.

So Mr. Berk takes attendance like usual and only pauses on Danny and Curaré in the back for a brief moment.

Curaré stops drawing and stares down Mr. Berk like he's the T rex from Jurassic park. Frozen in place and without breaking eye contact. He stares back at her completely unphased.

" A small visitor then?" He says.

Danny nods. " My sister"

" Mhm" Mr. Berk says already moving on to the next student on his roster.

Danny breathes out huge sigh of relief, that was so much easier then he expected.

They more or less repeat this exchange the whole day. Mondays suck ass because it's one of the only days Danny actually has all 6 periods, but they make it through 1st, 2nd, and nutrition unscathed.

By lunch time Danny thinks they might actually be home free, if no one is gonna bring up the whole freaking child tagging along with him then he can probably just bring her with him everyday.

Maybe he can find her some work books and she can learn the alphabet? And addition? That's like on track for 4 year olds right? Danny can't remember being 4 but that feels right to him. He will educate the child in his care like the responsible almost adult he is. She will go to college!

At lunch Danny sits them at the back of the school right next to the teachers lounge because it's mostly deserted.

In Danny's exprience the best place to hide is in plain sight. He's been sitting here everyday since he enrolled himself and the teachers have never noticed him. Their way too busy trying to get any kind of break from teaching high schoolers to be concerned.Which Danny is greatful for because he has broken the rule about using his cell phone at lunch 50 times at this point.

Listen he has to do universe research when he has access to wifi! Which he only does at school. The administration should be glad he's using his lunch period to educate himself really.

So they eat by the lounge. Danny has Curaré face away from the door so she can take off her face mask and eat unencumbered.The cut on her face is still gnarly, it looks an almost enflamed purple as it tries it's best to heal.

Danny had given Curaré a little immuno-boost with his own ecto the night before to try to speed up her healing factor. But like any Halfa, basically just Danny's personal experience, you have to nourish the ghost half and the human half in equal parts to heal all the way.

It's not until home room, period 6/7, that the metaphorical straw breaks the metaphorical camels back. or the real straw to the metaphorical camel? Did camels even carry straw? where would it go? Between there humps? Not important Fenton!

Home room was a grade A disaster.

Mr. Perez, Danny's kind of ancient home room teacher, who was for almost all intents and purposes blind, had a freaking nose for trouble. It's like he could sniff out vapes and cell phones as soon as they hit the stale class air. Danny thought this would be the easiest class by far, Mr. Perez wouldn't even see Curaré let alone smell her.

And at first it seems like he doesnt, Mr. Perez takes attendance and skips right over Danny and Curaré with no fanfare.

Danny thinks that's the end of it and starts to breathe easy until 15 minutes before the final bell when Mr. Perez' TA asks him to step into the hallway with her for a second.

Danny generally liked Mr. Perez's TA, her name was Sabrina Kahn and she was the kind of girl Jazz would have hung out with.Straight laced, wore argyle cardigans, read books, the smart sort. She looked Jazz's age too, maybe 21ish and she always rolled her eyes when people gave dumb answers in class.

She looks a little embarrassed to be speaking to Danny which immediately sets him on edge.

" It's okay that you brought your little sister today but, I'm sorry, you won't be able to do that again. A bunch of your teachers made complaints with the front office and Mr. Perez got a call about it ..."

Sabrina had always been nice to him and now she was about to ruin his whole week.

" But Ms. Kahn-" Danny started.

She gave him a sympathetic look " Lemme guess, your parents can't take her to work so this was the next best option?"

Danny closed his mouth and nodded, that was actually a much better lie then he was gonna tell, thank you Ms. Kahn. ( But also Boooooo curse you Ms. Kahn!)

" Here, I know it can be hard to find childcare for metas, especially ones as ah-vibrant as your sister. My brother had the same trouble with my nephew."

Sabrina hands Danny a flyer, it's still warm from the printer, it looks like it's just a screenshot of an email.

"Thanks?"

The TA rolls her eyes, wow a lot like Jazz then.

" It's the address to that daycare and a referral. They only take kids by word of mouth, they're kind of... off the books. But their good people! I hope they can help you Danny."

The paper is on off yellow, as Ms.Kahn heads back into homeroom Danny feels all his hope go with her. Shit, what was he gonna do now? He looks through the little glass window in the door to the back where Curaré sits, she's already watching him. He tries to smile at her, be reassuring, he's not sure it works.

......

When the bell finally rings Danny picks Curaré up and puts her on his hip to avoid her being crushed by the rush of high schoolers who stampede out the door in front of them.

The flyer from Ms. Kahn feels like it's burning a hole through his pocket as they ride the bus towards the Narrows.

Danny cased the house from the flyer with maps street view as well as he could. It showed a skinny sublet house across from a small strip mall and laundrymat.

Inconspicuous sure, maybe even innocent looking but well...you could never tell in Gotham, all the buildings looked sort of evil by default. It was probably because of the gargoyles and the general low level stink fog that seemed to always be out.

The big city™ really made Danny miss the suburbs of Amity Park more then just the regular gut wrenching home sickness. Oh what'd he'd give to take a deep breath of air and not inhale the smell of piss when he walked down the street.

They get off the bus at the corner a block from the daycare.

Danny holds Curaré's hand which makes for slow going but seems like the right thing to do. She's never wandered off but Danny didn't want to give her the opportunity to either.

As he helped her climb the three short stairs up to the house Danny was suddenly hit with a wave of panic.

What the fuck am I doing? Am I really gonna take care of this freaking Halfa ghost baby for the next 18 years? Im not even an adult! I work weekends at BatBurger for minimum wage WTF?

Danny's hands began to sweat and his stomach cramped. Oh fuck, here was the existential crisis he'd been waiting for since he first decided to take Curaré from the leagues super secret baby basement.

Oh shit he couldn't breathe, what was he gonna do! OH fuck think!

What would jazz do? Call child services and offer psychological support. Not Uber helpful in this case Danny didn't know the first thing about psychology and Gotham CPS was actual prison.

What would Sam do? Assassin babies are hella counter culture but maybe find a cool rich eccentric family to adopt them? Nope, not gonna work Danny only knew one eccentric rich girl and she was a whole dimension away. FUCK THINK FENTON!

What would Tucker do? In this situation ask Google, homeschooling is big these days so maybe if you leave her in the apartment while your gone with an iPad-

" Hey you alright there dude, can I help you?"

Danny choked on the end of his anxiety panic badbadbad spiral and looked up.

The front door to the house was open and just inside the threshold stood a younger teen, maybe 16? With the kind of fade haircut Tucker always whined he couldn't pull off and a bright yellow hoodie.

Danny held his breathe for a moment making sure he felt it burn up his lungs and throat before letting out a big sigh.

" Yeah, yeah sorry kinda zoned out there I'm just uh kinda nervous I was told to come here for Daycare help for my little sister?"

Curaré looked at the stranger in the doorway with the same wide eyed blankness she stared at everything with. Funnily enough she was still holding Danny's hand, had held on through Danny's entire mental meltdown too despite the ecto sweat. Danny felt oddly touched by the gesture, even if it was more likely that the little girl wasn't bothered by his crisis then her being sympathetic.

The teen in the Yellow Hoodie raised an eyebrow at Danny as he fumbled the paper from Ms. Kahn out of his pocket to hand over.

Yellow Hoodie took it and looked between it, him, and Curaré.

" You're not a cop right? You have to tell us if you're a cop"

Danny made a face, " no, I'm not a cop! I would never be a cop, cops suck."

" Right." Yellow Hoodie said still suspicious " So you wouldn't mind if I called your referral up?"

" Be my guest dude."

The teen pulled out his phone and made sure to keep steady eye contact with Danny. Who could do nothing except not look away during this, the world's most impromptu staring contest, until Yellow Hoodie put his phone away.

" Just wanted to see if you were bluffing. Sabrina called earlier said she'd sent someone our way but you can never be too careful. Come on in. "

Danny felt the wind go out of his sails for the second time that day, what was with people and making him anticipate the worst.

.....

The inside of the house was old, homey, but old. It had very obviously been well lived in by a few generations of children, easy to see from the scuffed floors, chipped crown molding, and the sheer number of framed photos that hung on the walls.

There were signs of new life about too, some toys scattered on the floor, walls that were covered in butcher paper and crayon as high as little hands could reach, and oddly enough some scorch marks. Although, Danny's supposed that an unlicensed daycare for meta kids worth it's salt ought to have a least a few burn marks. For posterity if nothing else.

" I'm Duke, I volunteer here when I can but the place is run by the Mariscos, Mrs. Marisco specifically. She's been in the game for a long time" Duke nee yellow hoodie said as he stopped them in front of a closed door.

The hand made sign on the door said Office in nice scribbly lettering and it was hung on with a peg and twine. Real kitschy.

Danny could just make out the sounds of kids playing in another part of the house and was a little impressed that Duke had managed to keep Danny from seeing even one tiny tot during the impromptu house tour.

" I gotta go help Izzy with the kids, this is Mrs.Mariscos' office just knock before you go in, she might be on the phone."

Duke nodded to Danny, smiled down at Curaré and disappeared down the hallway.

Leaving Danny and Curaré alone in front of a closed door once again.

Danny looked down at Curaré and she looked up at him, she was characteristically silent.

" This feels like a job interview, did you bring your resume? "

Curaré blinked.

" Yeah, me neither. But I think if we both give her puppy eyes maybe our combined under aged-ness will activate her maternal instincts and she'll be forced to accept us?"

The nerves were back, they had never really left but now they had settled like a rock at the pit of Danny's stomach.

He couldn't bring himself to knock on that office door just yet so he fussed over Curaré instead. Kneeling down he straightened the collar of Curaré's hooded jacket and moveed her little backpack strap back up her shoulder where it had slipped.

" We got this. It's you and me now remember, even if this blows and you have to come to school with me for the rest of year it's you and me." Danny rested his hands on little shoulders and hung his head. " Jeez, I sound like my mom"

"No need to be so nervous Mijo! My Chiqis never met a kid she could turn away."

Danny's neck had never snapped up so fast in his life.

Curaré hadn't been looking up at him at all. No, Curaré was staring up towards the elderly woman floating near the ceiling.

Which was not great, because Danny for all the time had spent in Gotham had never seen another ghost. Not a single one.

Which was unsettling on its own but not bad per se, he'd thought maybe this dimension was just different, not enough spectral energy to manifest a ghostly body.

But no, again nope, this was so much worse.

No ghosts was easy enough to reationalize but one ghost? One ghost meant there was enough spectral energy, one ghost meant something was really really wrong with Gotham.

Because if there was only one ghost in a crime ridden pissed off city like this where the shit were all the others?

--------------------------------------------------

Yo! Just wanted to say thank u for all the support on part 1, did not expect people to like or care about it lol. Anyway back on bullshit, I've had this written for a while but didn't have the insp to post it until now.

Might write more, might not, you get one bat cameo for reading this time ur welcome.

Forgot to add this to the first post, it's in the reblogs, but TLDR Curaré is an assassin from batman beyond.

Note: if you wanna see cool art for this AU check the Danny and the little dead girl tag on my blog!

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc au #dpxdc #dc x dp #DP x DC #batman #Curaré #batman beyond #duke thomas #danny and the little deadgirl au #i really gotta think of a name for this AU if its gonna be a thing #do i have a plan for this? no no i do not #i have a vague idea about what happens in this universe and no real motivation to write it #batfam

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thepersonnamedsam · 1 year ago

Note

you already know how much I love gen z driver! could you maybe write something of how would it be if gen z reader’s birthday happened to be during one of the gp’s? how everyone acts and makes it all about her?

happy birthday!

pairing: the genz!driver x '23!grid

summary: it’s the genz!drivers birthday, and it just happens to be the miami gp!

word count: 1.7k

warnings: some swear words and some google translated spanish and dutch :)

note: oh i just love all of your request, especially that one, bc i’m a birthday lover myself! have fun reading it and feel free to request more!! <3

masterlist/ taglist

The first people to congratulate her, were her parents. They called her, in the middle of the night; they forgot that time zones exist. But her heart was full when she picked up the phone at 3AM and both of her parents where singing ‚happy birthday‘ to her. What wasn’t so good, was that she had to be asleep, because it was a Sunday and race day! But it didn’t matter, it was her birthday!

Two hours later, her phone was ringing again, but this time not because someone was wishing her a happy birthday, no, it was her alarm. But today it was okay. 5AM on your birthday doesn’t feel that early, does it now? At least it didn’t for her.

Andy, her personal trainer, knocked on her door at exactly 6.30AM, holding a tiny cupcake with a candle in it. „Happy birthday, y/n!“, his voice cheerful and happy. Her smiled widened and her heart full with love again. „Thank you, Andy.“

„Are you ready for the race?“, Andy asked her. She nodded and closed her hotel door. „I’m excited to see Danny again and Nando and all the other people of course. Oh and definitely Lewis.“, Birthdays were her thing, she always missed them in school, either she had them on a weekend or she was on holiday. So, being surrounded by people who are important to her, was the best present she could’ve gotten.

On the way to the paddock, Andy let her pick out the music, her car playlist was blasting on full volume. Tongue Tied by GROUPLOVE was her favourite song at the moment, that’s why she was singing at the top of her lungs to the lyrics.

„Take me to your best friends house, go around this roundabout, oh yeah“, she looked at Andy as if he would follow the orders of the song.

The music died down, as they arrived at the paddock. Press was already waiting on her, they knew it was her special day and hoped to get some good footage of the birthday-girl. Usually the media annoyed her this early in the morning, but today, nothing could’ve ruined her day. She smiled and waved to the camera, spoke to some press people and had nice conversations with all of them.

The media always tried to find some gossip, especially on the young driver, but not today. They were happy to see her this happy.

As she set foot on the paddock, people were congratulating her. Pads on the back, some strokes on her arm here and there, everyone was nice to her, and who doesn’t enjoy some attention sometimes. Especially if it’s for something you didn’t work for. It was her favourite day of the year, Christmas is second.

„Danny!“, she shrieked as soon as she saw him. She sprinted towards the Australian and jumped into his arms. „I missed you so bad!“ Daniel just laughed and hugged the young driver. „Happy birthday, y/n.“

Her smile was consistent and contagious, every person she smiled at, they just had to smile back. Even Max smiled at her. Well, he always smiled at her, she was one of the persons that could make him smile.

„Max, can you give me a piggyback ride?“, she looked at him with puppy dog eyes and he just couldn’t deny her. „Of course, zus sister.“

As Martin Brundle spotted the two, he motioned to his cameraman to put the focus on them. „And now we see Max Verstappen carrying the birthday girl y/n. It is not rare to see the young driver interact with the different drivers. Let’s wish her a happy birthday“, he talked into the camera. „Hello you two, happy birthday y/n, am I the first to congratulate?“, the older man looked at her with an amusing look on his face. „Martin, as much as I love you, you are hopefully not the first person to wish me a happy birthday“, she looked at him with a serious face.

„Did Max congratulate yet?“, a challenging look on Martins face, he pointed at the camera and said: „Remember, this is a livestream.“, Max‘ cheeks turned a pretty pink colour and y/n gasped. „He did not!“, she gasped. „Max, you didn’t wish me a happy birthday?!“ - „I’m sorry, schat darling. Happy birthday, my dear.“

But how could she hold a grudge against a face that looked like Sid from Ice Age?

Fernando was the next person she saw, and he instantly grinned at her. „Oh Nando, do you know whose special day it is today?“, she singsang to the oldest driver on the grid. „Hmm, let me guess, is it Roscoes?“, he laughed as he saw her shocked face. „How could you, I thought we were friends?“ - „We are, we are, cariño darling. Feliz cumpleaños happy birthday, y/n.“

„How old are you now, 5?“, he laughed at her. „Har har, very funny Nando. How old are you turning this year, 60?“ She was always getting irritated fast. He grabbed her by her hip and pushed her into a side hug of his. „Don’t ever change, cariño.“

„Don’t have a plan for that, who’d change something as fabulous like this“, her hands were pointing to herself. „But on a serious note, Nando, do you know where Lewis is? I’ve been searching for him.“ Fernando only shook his head, he didn’t know where the British driver was. He rubbed over her hair as she left his side to search for her mentor.

„Oh Lewis! Your favourite person is looking for you“, she shouted over the paddock, with no luck. She didn’t even see a trace of Lew, none. But what she did find, was a monegasque driver with the number 16 and a spaniard driving under the number 55. They were arguing over some bullshit, as always, as they spotted her. „y/n! Over here“, Charles shouted over to her and waved his hand. She ran over to them and greeted the older drivers with a side hug. Carlos quickly kissed her head as he wished her a brilliant birthday. Charles even sang the first to lines of the song.

She was a bit embarrassed, but she enjoyed the attention of the two Ferrari drivers. „I love you guys, but have you seen Lewis?“, she smiled at the two as they rolled their eyes. She just wanted to see her favourite person on the paddock. She loved them all equally, but you couldn’t deny that Lewis definitely was her favourite. „I think I saw him at Mercedes, his motorhome“, Charles told her, she totally missed the sarcastic undertone of his and just skipped along to the Mercedes garage.

Before she even set a foot in the motorhome, Toto Wolff approached her and squished her into a hug. „Alles gute zum Geburtstag, liebes! Happy birthday, darling! How are you, so happy to see you“, he whispered into her ear. She loved Toto. „Hi Toto!“, she grinned up at him, „I’m good, thank you. Do you know where Lewis is?“ Toto laughed and pointed to his drivers room. „Thanks!“, she yelled as she took off.

She hasn’t been to her own motorhome, just wandering around the paddock and taking in all the attention from the others. And as she knocked on the door, she knew she’d receive the best attention of them all.

„It’s open“, she heard and busted into the tiny room. „Hello, your favourite human on this planet has arrived and will be gracing your presence from now on!“ She grinned at him and he only laughed and embraced the girl. „I have a present for the birthday girl? do you know where she is“, he joked and turned around to grab her present. „A present? Aw Lewis, you shouldn’t have, you totally should have.“

The present contained some gag gifts, such as a Mercedes hat and shirt, or some shirts with funny pattern on it. But the original present was a necklace. It wasn’t anything special, really. It was a simple silver necklace with a tiny turtle as a pendant. Her eyes were tearing up, so she quickly wiped them away.

„Is this one of the necklaces that makes you a godparent of a sea turtle?“ - „It sure is, have fun with“ he turned the pendant around and looked at the engraving on it „Yertle. He is now your godchild“, he smiled at her and motioned to y/n to turn around, so he could put the necklace on. „Thank you so much, it means a lot“, she hugged him as a thank you. He smiled at her, he adored the young driver and was grateful that he was apart of her journey.

„Thank you, love you Lewis!“, she yelled to him as she sprinted out of the motorhome. She was finally headed to her own garage. They had planned a surprise party for her and Lewis was the distraction. As she reached her motorhome, she didn’t see anyone. „Hello, is it not race day?“, she joked into the dark.

„Happy birthday, y/n!“

She jumped, her heart was racing, but she had a giant smile on her face. Her heart, once again, was full, full with love.

„Ahh, thank you guys!“, she squealed and sprinted into the engineers and mechanics, just like she won a race, which she hasn’t, by the way. She hugged all of them, thanked all and smiled the biggest smile she ever smiled. „I’m so grateful for all of you! And now, let’s win this race!“

She didn’t win, but was one of her best birthdays so far. And the after party was her personal highlight of the day. There was a huge pile of presents, just for her of course.

Lando was the DJ, Max was standing on a table, preparing to do a toast for her and Danny was laughing and pointing his camera at everybody.

The evening was definitely something she’d remember, maybe not Max‘ toast, as it was very embarrassing;

„Dear people, we have gathered here to celebrate not only my win, but also a birthday of some special person. She is not our girlfriend, which we are all happy about, but they’re all jealous of her, y/n! Happy birthday, you beast, come up here!“

The alcohol definitely made it more bearable, but the fact that Pierre had to drag you to Mac spoke for itself.

„Pierre, let me be, go back to your boyfriend“, she spoke harshly to the French man, but he ignored her with a smirk on his face and brought her up to Max.

„Ladys and gents, the birthday girl herself!“

It was one of the better party’s she attended and when she looked at all the posts she’s been tagged, she found one particular that she liked the most.

daniel3.jpg

Liked by yninsta, charles_leclerc and 473’827 others

daniel3.jpg happy birthday to my personal favourite female driver of all time! let’s raise a glass or two, to all the things i’ve lost on you ;)

View all 4638 comments

yninsta i am the only female driver…

landonorris that’s why your his fav

yninsta rude af

daniel3.jpg don’t fight kids

charles_leclerc happy birthday y/n!

carlossainz55 yeah, feliz compleaños to our fav girl

pierregasly liked by pierre gasly

f1girly we love all the drivers in the comments, y/n is definitely the paddock princess

likedbypear oh yes, idk if i want to be her or with her

yninsta be definitely with me, c’mon

neymarjr happy birthday y/n!

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @missskid , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #fernando alonso #genz driver #daniel ricciardo #lewis hamilton x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #max verstappen x reader #pierre gasly x reader #fernando alonso x reader #toto wolff x reader #female driver

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eringobragh420 · 26 days ago

Text

💜 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 💜 Summary: Damian’s girlfriend and Rhea have a deep hatred for one another, leaving Damian in the middle to referee. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Overstimulation, unprotected p in v, cum 18+ 💜 Notes: Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it! ❤️ Thank you so much to @miss-kuki-nz for being my muse ❤️ 💜 Taglist: In the comments because I'm old and don't know how they work lol. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 💜 Requested By: @twistedprincess-92. Hope you enjoy!

“I am so tired of this bullshit,” Damian complained, unlocking the front door to his and his girlfriend’s home. He shoved it open, and no matter how angry he was, the man never forgot his manners, so he motioned for the tiny woman beside him to enter ahead of him.

Had she not been absolutely livid at the moment, she’d have swooned, as she was prone to doing, but as the situation stood, there would definitely be no swooning this time. “You and me both, babe,” she hissed as she passed him.

Damian slammed the door and locked it before stomping after her into the living room. He watched as she kicked her heels off and doffed her leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the couch. She crossed her arms, and he knew it was going to be a long night. “You’re acting like you’re the one that should be mad right now,” he said, motioning in her direction.

“Are you saying I’m not?” she asked evenly, brows in her hairline, and it was that perfectly held-together tone that gave Damian an ominous chill down his spine.

“Yeah, I’m saying you’re not. I’m the one that has to referee his girlfriend and his best friend every damn time we go out somewhere.”

“Oh, poor you,” his girlfriend spat. “At least you’re not the one getting called a golddigger!”

“She did not call you a golddigger.”

“Wait, no, you’re right. What she said was you’re just like all the rest. Like the girl you dated before me who spent all your money.”

“She’s just looking out for me.”

“Well, Damian, which is it? Did she not say it or is she protecting a six-foot-five grown ass man who can take care of himself?”

Damian’s hands came to his head but they dropped quickly. “You both literally want the same thing. I don’t understand any of this.”

“Maybe we do want the same thing, but she’s the one being a bitch about it.”

“Oh, great. Next you’re gonna tell me she’s the one that started it.”

“Actually, she did.”

Damian’s eyes went to the ceiling. He couldn’t believe they were having this argument again. It had been almost a year since he’d introduced the love of his life to his best friend, and ever since that day, he hadn’t had a moment’s peace. Maybe the two women were simply too alike and would consequently never get along. So where did that leave him? He refused to choose between them, and he refused to allow them to bully him into choosing between them. Had they reached an impasse? Was this just supposed to be his life now? And when the couple inevitably got married, was Rhea not going to be invited?

“And what if I just say I’m done with it?” he suddenly asked, turning his head to look at his girlfriend.

She stared at him. “What does that mean?”

Damian sighed. “Never mind.”

“You wanna be done with me?”

“I didn’t say—“

“The hell you didn’t. I’m not in Rhea’s cool book, so you’re just gonna toss me aside?”

“You’re not lis—”

“Fuck you, Damian.”

His brows rose and he nodded. “Fuck me?”

“Fuck you.”

She stomped past him, glaring the whole way, and it was clear she didn’t want to be followed, nor did he particularly want to follow her. He knew the door slam was coming, but he still jumped just the same as he removed his jacket, dropping it over the back of the couch before he fell onto the cushions with a heavy sigh. He scrubbed his hands over his face, grabbed the remote, and turned on the television knowing full well he wasn’t interested in watching anything.

He was all threats, and she knew it. He wasn’t going to break up with her, and he wasn’t going to sever ties with Rhea, either. He would live with it, he supposed, like he had been, spending the rest of his life hoping things would change. In the meantime, he’d have to keep them separated. Like children.

“Damian?”

Damian stirred, clearing his throat, and his eyes slowly blinked open. He must have fallen asleep at some point as he was now prone on the couch, one boot on the cushion, the other on the floor. Had he heard his name in a dream? He sat up, yawning, and arched his back to work out the kinks.

“Papí?” his girlfriend called again from upstairs.

“Yeah, babe?” he replied, looking over his shoulder toward the staircase.

“Will you please come to bed?”

He smirked. Yeah, he was gonna live with it. He loved her too damn much. “I’m on my way.” He pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time, discovering a message from Rhea.

I love you, twin. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.

Damian’s smile only grew and his heart swelled, but then realized his girlfriend hadn’t been the first one to apologize. Did that bother him? Did it really matter? He could build on this. Light at the end of the tunnel. He turned the TV off before climbing the stairs and made his way down the corridor toward their bedroom. The door was open and the lights were off save for the nightlight near the bed on her side—she’d never admitted to it, but she had at least a slight fear of the dark. She was in bed, under the blankets, facing him, the azure hue from the nightlight painting her face in blues and shadows. Damian took his clothes off and crawled under the blankets behind her, pulling her naked body to his. That distended heart of his promised to pop, as his girlfriend cuddled back into him, rubbing her ass against his cock, moaning when his arms wrapped around her.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she mumbled. “You’re right. I’ve been a jerk. Rhea and I can figure this out.”

Damian’s grin could have lit up the entire room. They are just alike. He kissed her neck softly, attacking her spots as his hand drifted along her body. She squirmed when he cupped her breast, rocking her hips against his. “I know you will,” he growled, omitting the text from Rhea. “Because you’re wonderful.” He pinched an already hard nipple, ripping a groan from deep in her throat. “And you’re perfect.” His stiffening cock thrust against the crack of her ass, and she reached back to clutch his hip over the blankets. “And you’re so fucking sexy.”

She giggled. “You sweet-talker.”

“Mhmmm,” Damian mumbled, nibbling on her earlobe. His warm hand slid from her breast, the pads of his fingers skating along her abdomen, and she lifted her leg so those fingers could slip into her dampening pussy.

“Fuck,” she whined, tightening her thighs around his hand as she rode his digits. “Shouldn’t this be the other way around?” she breathed. “I’m the one that screwed up.”

“That makes me right,” Damian boasted, “which means I get what I want. And this is what I want.” His middle finger slid inside her, her hips bucking to accept and bring him deeper. “I’m gonna make you cum at least three times before I even fuck that pussy.”

And he made good on his word, working her over with his fingers until she was trembling beside him not once, not twice, but three times, and by the third time, his girlfriend was a sobbing, quivering, begging-for-mercy mess. She almost protested when Damian began to slide his stiff manhood inside her, and maybe she did a little, but her objection was weak and unconvincing. His hand on her thigh lifted her leg in the air, she pivoted her hips, and her pussy sucked him deeper within her, Damian groaning.

“God, I can’t,” she all but wept, “I can’t, I can’t.” She repeated the words in time with Damian’s pumps, and he nuzzled her neck with tender kisses.

“Yes, you can,” Damian panted. “You’re doing so good. You can take just a little bit more.” He placed her leg gently on top of its twin, tightening her already impossibly tight cunt, and he squeezed her hip before thrusting into her. “That’s it,” he whispered, watching with wild eyes as his girlfriend fisted the sheets and bit down on the pillowcase, “take it for Papí.”

His girlfriend lurched, strangled sounds escaping her lips as her pussy pulsed around him. And that was enough to send Damian over the edge. He pressed his face to her hair and emptied himself inside her, his hips stuttering, pounding, pausing, thrusting again. After several moments, he tried to pull out, but she grabbed hold of him anyway she could, and that’s where he stayed.

“Don’t even think about moving for at least the next five to seven hours.”

Damian chuckled. “Little sensitive?”

His girlfriend scoffed. “You would be too if you just came three times in a row.”

“Oh, you didn’t cum while we were fucking? Let me fix that.”

Her grip on him tightened. “Don’t even think about it. I swear, I don’t even know what Rhea and I are fighting about. I’m the one that needs protection from you.”

Damian laughed again. “I love you, mi vida.”

“I love you … jerk.” 🎀 Papí - Daddy 🎀 Mi vida - My life

#wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #damian priest x reader #damian priest smut #damian priest kinklist #damian priest fanfic #damian priest imagine #damian priest fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe fandom #wwe smut #damian priest

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greensagephase · 9 days ago

Text

Nonviolent Communication - Part 21

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: Día de Los Muertos, year three. Word Count: 11.6k Warnings: possible second hand embarrassment at the beginning; a new character introduced; some Spanish, but translations are in-text; mention of deceased loved ones; fluff and more fluff; face painting due to the celebrations; I think that's all??? 🤭 A/N: Hiii, just want to remind everyone that three new chapters were posted in early October. I know some readers missed one or two because the algo sucks, so check this post out to access all three chapters just in case you missed one! Music Inspo: "Cuando Vuelva a Tu Lado" - Eydie Gormé, Los Panchos "Recuérdame (Arrullo)" - Gael Garcia Bernal, Lucy Hernández "Remember Me (Lullaby)" - Gael Garcia Bernal, Gabriella Flores, Libertad García Fonzi Masterlist

Part 21

You look around your apartment, making sure your place looks decent for the hundredth time. It smells good, you know that. Miguel told you so when he arrived earlier for breakfast with you. Unfortunately, he had to leave because you have a guest coming.

With a sigh, you return to your small kitchen to look at the coffee pot and freshly baked pastries you made for the occasion.

Despite spending the night in Nueva York at Miguel’s penthouse, you came back to your own place to bake because you’re expecting a person you never thought you’d be welcoming into your apartment ever again: Harry Osborn.

It’s been some time since you’ve seen him and ever since then, you decided to give him another chance. After debating for so long, you felt that it was right. At least, a part of you does. You have a feeling that neither Miguel nor the rest of the spider gang are happy with your decision because of Harry ditching you when you needed someone the most. You don’t blame them. If you were in their shoes, you’d probably dislike Harry, but well, you’re not in their shoes and you know Harry personally. There’s history with him, all the way to elementary school years. How can someone ignore that? Yet again, Harry did once, you suppose. You ultimately decided to do this for Peter, for his sake.

You figured he’d be open to giving Harry another chance, to maybe find out what happened, though that’s not a revelation you’re searching for right away. You’re sure with time, Harry will share the reason for his abrupt exit from your life. You’ve wondered already what the reason or reasons were, but none of your own explanations make sense. There was never a reason for him to do such a thing; to walk out of your life like you were no one to him.

There were no signs and that’s what made it hurtful, even if you were planning on cutting ties with him anyway when you thought you were doing everyone in your circle a favor by shutting them out. It came out of nowhere, just like your encounter with him that day at the flower stand, and now, you’re waiting for him to arrive to your home once more, so many years later.

You wipe the counter with a kitchen towel, feeling a bit anxious about this considering you’re practically strangers. Sighing heavily, you wish you were either going to be alone for the next hour or so, or back in Nueva York with Miguel at the penthouse.

You look at the spot where Miguel sat earlier during breakfast, the seat now empty. The two of you agreed that it was too soon for him and Harry to be introduced, at least in person and formally, so Miguel left about fifteen minutes ago.

That’s why you’re waiting for Harry alone, even though you wish you could’ve gone through the same multidimensional portal Miguel, who looked equally unenthusiastic about leaving you, opened. He didn’t say anything, but you could see and sense the hesitation. He didn’t want to leave you alone, but he had to.

Your cleaning ceases when you hear a knock at the door, realizing Harry is here. Breathing in and then out, you make your way to the door and look through the peephole to confirm. Seeing it’s Harry, you unlock and open the door with hesitation.

In front of you, Harry stares back at you, dressed in a business suit despite the fact that it’s Saturday, the second of November — Día de Los Muertos [Day of the Dead]. You notice he’s holding a bouquet of pretty flowers, but you don’t pay any more attention to it beyond that. Meeting your gaze, Harry offers a small smile, which you return.

Then, at the same time you offer your hand for a handshake, Harry steps in for a hug. He ends up running into your hand, freezing at the formal gesture before backing away in embarrassment.

“Sorry -” you start, lowering your hand.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that,” Harry apologizes with an awkward smile. He steps back again and then, simply offers the flowers. “These are for you. I was driving by the same little flower stand we ran into the other day, and I thought some flowers would be great since your building is back and running. Well… has been for a bit, but since I just arrived to the states, you know…” Harry trails off.

“That’s thoughtful of you, thank you,” you answer, carefully taking the flowers. “Come in.” You gesture for him to enter, closing the door once he’s inside. You lead the way to the kitchen. “Please take a seat. I have some coffee and freshly baked pastries.”

Behind you, Harry thanks you as he settles on the kitchen counter, taking one of the two chairs — Peter’s, or at least the chair that used to be his. “It’s so great to see you again,” Harry starts as you find a vase to place the flowers in. “I… Thank you for — for calling me back. I know you needed some time to think about it, and I… I’m grateful to have heard back from you. To be here after all this time.”

“I’m glad to have you here,” you answer, giving Harry a smile before continuing to fix the flowers. “Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They’re lovely.”

“Of course, I’m glad you like them,” he answers.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Harry replies, prompting you to withdraw two mugs from a cupboard, even though you already had one coffee with Miguel. You carefully pour the fresh coffee and fix some pastries on a plate before placing everything on the counter.

“It smells great in here,” Harry comments, flashing you a grin when you place the mug in front of him. “It always smelled amazing here though, with your great baking.”

You hum and offer a smile, staring at the man you never thought you’d see in this apartment again. Seeing him sitting in front of you, with the rest of the apartment behind him is a strange sight. You can’t help but think that Harry looks out of place, even though there was a time in which he visited this place every weekend. He was once in photos that decorated your gallery wall, too. You swallow subtly. “Thanks. It’s the baking. It’ll make your home smell great for hours. And, the oven will warm up the place — so it’s perfect for the colder months, too.”

“Yeah, I can see that. It’s so cozy in here. It always was,” Harry says, looking around the kitchen for a few seconds, observing, or perhaps remembering the days he used to come over.

You’re about to respond with another weak answer when there’s a knock at the door. You both look equally surprise to hear it.

“Are you expecting someone else?” Harry asks, looking over his shoulder and at the door.

“No,” you answer, putting your mug down and walking around the counter towards the door. “Let me see who it is. Might just be a neighbor,” you add, reaching the door. You peek through the peephole, feeling your spider senses act up probably out of the nervousness and awkwardness from this get together. You step back, unlocking the door while looking at Harry. “It’s your… Chauffeur? Butler?”

“Felix?” you hear Harry ask as you open the door to face the older man.

“Hey,” you start softly. “Come in. Is something wrong?” you ask, wondering if there’s an issue.

Brown eyes thoroughly scan your face, as if memorizing it. You remember this is the first time the man has seen you up close, so you disregard his focus on your face.

“Felix?” Harry says, standing next to you now. “What’s wrong?”

“Forgive me, sir,” Felix says looking at Harry to address him before turning to you. “And ma’am. Nothing is wrong. I noticed Mr. Osborn left his wallet at his apartment and decided to bring it to him since he’s driving.”

“Oh, I could’ve sworn I did pick it up,” Harry says while Felix retrieves the wallet from his own suit. “I guess I was a little… Never mind. Thank you, Felix,” Harry continues, accepting the wallet and tucking it away. “Shouldn’t be driving around without a driver’s license, huh?” he asks, looking at you with a sheepish smile.

“Certainly not,” you answer, still standing there, feeling Mr. Felix’s eyes on you. “You don’t want a ticket.”

“Definitely not,” Harry responds. “Thank you, Felix. As always, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Happy to help, sir. I’m sorry for my sudden appearance. I hope you and Ms. Y/N don’t mind the interruption,” the man says, lowering his face slightly as a form of apology before straightening again. “I shall leave you two now and return to my duties.”

“We don’t mind,” you answer, giving him a nod of understanding. “It’s kind of you to have brought Harry his wallet.”

Felix turns to face you, eyes meeting yours. You silently decide he’s about fifty years old or so, based on his demeanor at least. He nods back. “Just doing my job, ma’am, which I take very seriously.”

“Too seriously, sometimes, Felix,” Harry says with a bit of a chuckle, clasping his hand over the man’s shoulder. “He’s a great man, Y/N. He’s been working with me for years and I don’t plan to let him go until he decides to retire, which he states he has no plans on doing, so, he’ll be my right hand indefinitely.”

Offering a smile, you extend your arm to formally greet him, a sight that makes Harry wince internally when he remembers the awkward moment you both had earlier when he arrived. You introduce yourself and shake the man’s hand when he accepts yours.

“Felix. Felix Kerr,” he introduces himself, giving you a firm handshake while holding your gaze. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am. I have heard nothing but wonderful things about you from Mr. Osborn and his father.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir. And that’s kind of you, and of Harry and Mr. Osborn,” you reply, withdrawing your hand and turning to Harry. “We’ve known each other since elementary.”

“A long time,” Harry says with a grin before he remembers that you’re not so acquainted with each other anymore. As if sensing his boss’s change, Mr. Kerr nods at him.

“I’ll be at the apartment, sir. Please notify me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Felix. I doubt I will, but I appreciate it. Careful on your way back,” Harry softly says.

“Will do, sir. Ma’am,” Mr. Kerr addresses you once more, nodding at you before turning on his heel and leaving.

“Sorry about that,” Harry says as you gently close the door.

“It’s no problem, no need to apologize,” you answer. “You needed your wallet. Please, take a seat. Again,” you say with a soft amused smile, trying to break down the awkwardness. “Before the coffee and pastries gets cold.”

You both reach your previous spots again now that his personal assistant, or whatever title Mr. Kerr has, is gone.

Harry picks up his mug and takes a sip, smiling at you. “It’s great. Thank you for it.”

“You’re welcome.” You smile slightly, twirling a spoon in your coffee. “So… How was your trip? Did everything go smoothly?” you ask, hoping to make conversation, which you succeed because for the next thirty minutes, Harry tells you all about his trip from the elegant and luxurious hotel he stayed at, the food he ate, a brief summary of the business dealings, and what he did on his free time. You try to ask questions to keep the conversation going, showing interest. You figure this is a good way to begin to know the man in front of you again.

“But enough about me. What have you been up to? How was your move-in?” Harry asks once he’s done telling you about the different historic locations he visited on his free time.

“It went well. Smoothly,” you state. “I had to clean, a lot, but it didn’t take me too long.”

“That’s good to hear,” Harry says nodding, turning on his seat to look at the living room. “You had… help, I hope?”

You look at the living room, not answering for a few a seconds. “Yeah, I did. Thankfully,” you answer simply, not providing any more information beyond that, like how it was Miguel who helped you clean.

Harry hums and stands up, walking closer to the living room, still looking around. “It looks so different,” he murmurs. “Despite the fact that it’s still the same place.”

“Yeah… It’s been some time since you were here,” you reply, opting to keep to yourself that only over a year ago you redecorated the place for the first time. You don’t want Harry to know that you kept the apartment the same for years after Peter’s death, from the furniture to the placement of objects.

“I know,” Harry replies with a sigh, moving to touch the couch. “You’ve changed the couch.”

“I did,” you say, remembering that the old one is still at Miguel’s place in storage. Staring at the new one, you realize maybe it’s time to fully depart with the old one. You haven’t even thought much about it. You suppose it’s true what some people say: out of sight, out of mind. Perhaps much like you’ve been for Harry and him for you. “It was time to replace it, unfortunately.”

Harry nods and turns around, his eyes landing on the gallery wall where photos that included him used to be displayed. Now, there are photos of your new friends. With interest, Harry gazes at them, walking closer.

You watch him carefully, knowing this will be the first time that Harry looks at the entire spider gang and Miguel.

“Are these — Are these your new friends?” Harry asks.

“Yes,” you simply answer, moving so you can look at the photos, too. Your eyes spot the various photos that you left up since you made sure to remove every single photo in which you or any of your friends are wearing their super suits to avoid revealing your super hero identity and raising suspicions.

Harry nods again, his eyes stopping on a photo specifically — the one of Miguel and you with Mayday from New Year’s Eve. “Hm… That little kid again. What was her name again?”

“Mayday.”

“Mayday, that’s right…” Harry trails off, still staring at the photo.

Based on his interest, there’s no doubt in your mind that Harry is wondering about the man next to you in the photo, the one with the little kid on his shoulder.

“Is that her dad?”

“No. That man isn't her dad. Her dad's name is — “ you pause when you almost say Peter's name, realizing it might be weird for Harry to hear that you befriended a Peter after your own. “Benjamin. He's a good friend of mine along with his wife.”

“Benjamin…” Harry hums at that. “Is this ‘Mig’?” Harry asks, reminding you of your first encounter with him at that flower stand after years of not seeing each other. You were grocery shopping with Mayday and after a bit of conversation, Harry invited you to a coffee shop for a drink. It was there that Harry asked about your living situation because he had learned about the fire to which Mayday eagerly replied with ‘Mig’ — unfortunately revealing that you were staying at someone’s place. Thankfully, Harry didn’t prod for answers then. You recall his answer to Mayday’s simple response was that as long as you were safe, that’s all that mattered.

Now, it seems that Harry wishes to know more, especially now that he’s seeing all these new faces on your gallery wall. It must be strange for him, you realize, to see that the people you both knew once — laughed, ate, shared jokes and memories with — are no longer part of this space, and instead, there’s all these new people that are now your family, but strangers to him.

You stare at the photograph, at Miguel specifically. There’s no point in denying, or withholding information when you’ve left all these photographs out. You didn’t want to hide them. Hiding them would mean hiding the people who’ve brought you so much happiness, who have become your family. It didn’t feel right to hide them, the small family who took you in when you were all alone and helped you be where you’re now, not even to protect the feelings of the stranger in your living room who you once knew so well.

“Yes, his name is Miguel,” you finally say, not providing a last name. “And he’s my best friend,” you add, with a firmness and pride that leaves no doubt in Harry’s mind that you mean those words with every fiber of your being.

He turns to face you, tearing his gaze away from the man, Miguel, who seems to be in a lot of pictures with you. He hasn’t failed to notice that, of course. He'd be blind to not notice that Miguel makes up a big portion of your gallery wall.

In fact, the number of photos this Miguel is in, is the same amount as Peter, your Peter.

“Your best friend,” Harry repeats, with that thought on his mind. This man is your best friend, and he along with Peter, make up the majority of your gallery wall. This man is part of the gallery wall just as much as Peter, your previous best friend and lover, is. That thought makes Harry grow still before his eyes flicker to your left hand for a second, as if searching for something. His gaze returns to your face when he finds nothing special, yet the idea doesn’t abandon his head entirely. “I’m glad you have people to rely on,” he continues some seconds later, giving you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, though you don’t notice that. “They seem like good people.”

“They are. They’ve been an amazing support system over the last few years,” you answer, turning to the gallery to scan your friends’ faces. A smile, one so warm and gentle, so tender, forms on your face.

“You truly seem happy,” Harry comments, taking notice of the smile. “I’m happy for you.” After a pause, Harry turns to the photos again. “So… This is who you were staying with… This Miguel?”

“Yes,” you simply reply. “With Miguel.”

Nodding once more, Harry turns to face the photos again. His eyes scan every photo with the man. There’s the one with you and him and Mayday on New Year’s Eve. There’s the two of you putting together some kind of furniture piece, which Harry quickly realizes is the new bookshelf in your living room.

The realization leads Harry to register the truth — this man is important to you and ingrained in your life, so much he's helped you build furniture for your apartment’s new look, which seems like a too personal task. A task that only close friends, or a boyfriend, would do. At least, in his mind it seems that way.

Harry continues to look at the photos before his phone begins to ring, startling the two of you. He apologizes for the interruption before taking the call.

Remaining in the same spot, you listen silently. It seems to be about work.

“I’ll be there soon,” you hear him say quietly. “See you in a bit. Bye.”

Hearing him end the call, you turn to face him. “Everything okay?”

“Yes… Yes, everything is okay. I just — I must go. Something came up at work,” Harry says, his tone apologetic. “I’m needed, so I must go now. Being the boss's son sometimes means work on Saturday. I’m sorry for how abruptly I’m departing.”

“That’s alright. I understand. Work is work,” you answer, genuinely. “Do you want some of the pastries to go?”

“I — Do you mind?” he asks, slipping his phone into his jacket’s pocket.

“Not at all,” you say, quickly entering your small kitchen to pack some of the pastries for him. In seconds, you gather a few pieces and wrap them up for him to take. “Here you go.” You hand him the package. “I hope you enjoy them. Maybe you can give one to your dad. Tell him I said hi, by the way.”

Harry takes the package and nods. “Thank you so much. I will. I told him I was coming here, so he knows. He was happy about it,” he says, giving you a smile before you both move to the door. Harry’s strides are long and quick, so much his handkerchief falls to the ground without his knowledge.

You stop and pick up the dark green piece of fabric. “Harry, you dropped your handkerchief.”

“Oh, I didn’t even realize,” Harry says, turning around to take it from your extended hand. He easily slips it back in place. “Thank you. For that, and for the coffee and pastries. And for having me here, in your home.” He looks down at the package with pastries, trying to formulate the words before speaking. Once he gathers his thoughts, he looks up at you again. “Thank you for the chance you’ve given me — You have no idea how much it means to me, Y/N. Thank you,” he gently states, stepping closer and looking at you.

“It was nice having you here,” you answer genuinely despite everything. “I hope you enjoyed the coffee and pastries, and of course… You’re welcomed here.”

Harry smiles slowly at you before he steps closer. “May I… May I hug you?”

You nod slowly, agreeing to it, and that’s all Harry needs. He carefully wraps his arms around you, placing his chin on your shoulder.

Not knowing what else to do, you hesitantly place your hands on his shoulders from beneath his arms, staring at the ceiling and feeling weird about hugging Harry after all this time.

You close your eyes slowly and think about all the times you’ve hugged your friends, the spider gang, before you think of someone else. Unbeknownst to Harry, you think about hugging that someone else: the man in your photos Harry kept staring at, Miguel.

You frown slightly. You got a hug from Harry Osborn, someone who hasn’t been in your life for years, before you got a hug from Miguel, your best friend.

At last, to your relief, Harry pulls back and so do you. You offer him a smile. “Go. Work calls.”

Reaching the door again and opening it, Harry gives you another smile. “Yeah, I must get going. Thank you again for everything. Be careful alright?” he says, already halfway out, his gaze sweeping over the place once more, thinking about the new look of your apartment and the fact that Miguel helped you — that that man has been here in your home and helped you redecorate it.

“Will do,” you reply as he begins to close the door. “You, too.”

“I will,” Harry says, waving goodbye and beginning to close the door, but stopping at the last second. You stare at each other for a few seconds. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N?”

You nod your head, confirming. “Yes, soon.”

“I’m relieved, thank you. Take care.”

“You, too,” you answer, waving goodbye.

With that, Harry finally closes the door. After a few seconds, you lock it and sigh, leaning on it. That was a bit awkward.

You finally push yourself off the door and clean up the kitchen before you hang the other photographs back on the wall. Over half an hour later, you change into your suit and slip out of your apartment for a quick patrol of your city, trying to clear your mind after meeting with Harry.

You swing around the city for almost an hour, stopping a bank robbery and a petty criminal from stealing someone’s purse in that time span. You eventually travel to Nueva York, where Miguel waits for you at the penthouse.

“Hiiii,” you say, offering a smile to Miguel as soon as you step out into the living room. You find him carefully laying out some of the decorations for his ofrenda [Day of the Dead altar] on the coffee table, preparing.

Hearing your voice first before he sees you, Miguel smiles and turns to face you. “Hey, how did it go?”

You sigh and sit down on the couch. “It went.”

Chuckling, Miguel sits down across from you as well, deciding to take a break to give you his full attention. “Was it that bad?”

“When he first arrived, he was going for a hug and I offered him a handshake,” you confess, feeling a rush of embarrassment at that. You press your hands to your forehead and sigh. “So embarrassing. And awkward.”

Miguel offers you a small smile of understanding, though his interest perks up when he hears Osborn went straight for a hug. He clears his throat. “That sounds uncomfortable. How did you handle it?” he asks, curious to know if you eventually hugged Osborn.

“We apologized to each other, and then, he gave me some flowers he brought,” you state, leaning back on the couch.

Flowers? Miguel watches you lean back, noticing the little get together got to you a bit. He hums, thinking about the interaction.

“We talked for a bit about his business trip over coffee and pastries. He eventually looked around the living room and saw my gallery wall. He asked about you,” you continue to share.

“He did?” Miguel asks, intrigued by that.

“Yes. He remembered that Mayday mentioned a ‘Mig’ that day we ran into him at the flower stand. He looked at one of the photos of you and I with Mayday, one from New Year’s Eve. He asked if you were ‘Mig’ and I confirmed it. I told him your name — just your first one — and that you’re my best friend.”

Hearing you say that, and the way you say it so proudly, brings a gentle blush to Miguel’s cheeks. He smiles fondly at you, elated with the fact that you told Osborn about him. Miguel silently wonders what Osborn thought about him and the rest of your friends, however.

“After that, he said he was glad that I have a support system,” you continue, telling him about the remainder of the get together, including the hug at the end.

The revelation that Osborn got a hug from you after all, leaves a slight pout on Miguel’s lips and a strange feeling he doesn’t have enough time to identify. All Miguel knows is that Osborn seems to have received what he wanted from the start.

“It was a bit awkward, but I suppose it will be like that for a bit, considering we’re basically strangers at this point. It’ll take some time before that feeling goes away. Anyway, I’m glad we had that little get together, no matter how uneasy it felt, and even gladder that I’m here again. I’m so excited to cook and bake, and help you set up your ofrenda,” you eagerly say, standing up.

“I’m excited, too. I started on a few things already to ease the workload. I’ve set up the other pots and pans we’ll be using, the dry ingredients, and the supplies for the ofrenda. I figured it would help since gathering the things takes a bit of time, too. I also finished the filling for the tamales [Latin dish].”

“Gathering everything is a process of its own,” you agree. “Collecting everything, or as much as you can, beforehand, helps so much. You avoid the running back and forth when you’re actually doing the task, and prevents you from entirely skipping a step because you’re all over the place. It’ll make the process run much smoother being organized, especially since we’re doing a lot of cooking! Do you want to start now?” you ask with so much excitement it’s clear to Miguel you’ve been looking forward to this.

“If you want to, yes,” Miguel answers, standing up as well. “But first, I think you might want to change into more comfortable clothing since we’re doing a lot.”

You look down at yourself, remembering you’re wearing your suit. “You’re right. I’ll be right back!” you tell Miguel, already halfway to the stairs.

After changing into far more comfortable clothes — clothes you’ve left in your bedroom, at Miguel’s penthouse — and turning on his record player, Miguel and you begin to work on the food for the ofrenda.

Hominy for the pozole [Latin dish] is placed in a pot to boil along with the necessary vegetables needed for the sauce and flavor.

With that done, Miguel makes the masa [dough] for tamales, so you can begin making them.

As always, you work together with ease. You move around the kitchen in sync, making steady progress while Latin romantic ballads play in the background.

You also open the packages of candy and set them on a tray to later offer to each of Miguel's family members.

Little by little, progress is being made. You reach a point in the cooking that allows you to take a break and have lunch before you both set up the ofrenda, using tables and shelves to give it two levels.

White tablecloths are used as the base before gorgeous and vibrant banners made out of papel picado [pecked paper] with intricate designs cut into it are hanged at the edge of each level. Colorful and handmade sugar skulls are placed throughout both levels along with white candles to be lit later on.

To finish, both Miguel and you add marigold flowers to the ofrenda. They're fresh and so lively, their scent filling Miguel's living room, where he decided to set his ofrenda this year.

While placing a flower down, you find it hard to believe that you’re here now. Three years ago, Miguel showed up to your apartment out of nowhere. Smiling, you recall that evening.

You were doing chores, specifically putting items away where they belonged and laundry. All of a sudden, you sensed a portal and when you stepped out into the living room, there he was, Miguel. He looked around your apartment, probably noticing the autumn decorations before you asked him if everything was okay. You were surprised by his random appearance and even more so because he looked calm, so your guess was that nothing was amiss. Still, you had to ask just in case you needed to change into your suit.

“Are you busy right now?” Miguel asked after he assured you everything was fine.

“I was just doing some chores, so, no…” you replied, unsure of why Miguel was there so late. He was calm and said nothing was wrong, so that meant there was no threat to the multiverse. At least, that was your impression.

After nodding and sighing to himself, he told you his reasoning for being there. “I would like — to show you something,” he said, meeting your gaze.

In the span of minutes, if even that, you were in the lab and looking at Miguel’s ofrenda for his family.

That was what he wanted to show you, his offering and way of honoring and celebrating those who were once in his life, but now gone. By doing so, Miguel also wanted to assure you that your own way of honoring and celebrating Peter was okay — that you weren’t alone. It was a way of reciprocating the vulnerability you had allowed Miguel to see on Peter’s birthday. And since you had made him part of your celebration, Miguel wanted to do the same for you, something that brought you so much tenderness at the time and continues to do so to this day.

Now, three years later, you’re at his penthouse helping Miguel set up his ofrenda again, just like last year. The difference now is that you’re here instead of at the lab because Miguel decided to set it up at home since he spends more time here than he did in the past. You hum softly and place the last flower before turning to look at Miguel just as he adjusts Gabriel's photo.

You smile at the sight. Gabriel, Gabriel O’Hara. How you wish you could’ve met him and Gabby, the same way Miguel wishes you could’ve.

Heck, Miguel even wishes you could’ve met Conchata. Perhaps she would’ve liked you. Perhaps she would’ve done better as a mother and grandmother to Gabby if all three of them were still alive. Perhaps.

You look at each photo before meeting Miguel’s gaze, both your mouths curving upwards into a smile.

“I was thinking,” Miguel says, still smiling, but with a hint of shyness and hesitation. Perhaps it’s too much what he’s about to say, what he’s about to offer. He scratches his neck nervously, his cheeks red. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, or offensive. Or… find it weird, or to be too much,” he continues, rambling without realizing it. “I was wondering if you’d like to — like to add your loved ones’ photos, too?” Miguel manages to ask at last, staring at you sheepishly. He has been thinking about it for days, about asking you, but he kept going back and forth on the idea, and now it’s Día de Los Muertos and you’re both here. Maybe it’s a stupid idea, or too much since it’s about your deceased loved ones. Miguel almost begins to apologize for the bad idea, but then he notices the look of surprise and then tenderness on your face.

You slowly smile at him, a sweet smile. “You’re serious?”

“Yes… Yes, I am,” Miguel gently replies.

“But this is for family,” you state softly, wondering if Miguel has truly thought this through.

Miguel nods and that’s how you realize that he knows, that you’re making his point. It’s for family. He’s offering your loved ones a place on his ofrenda because you’re… Family.

You’re part of Miguel’s family.

“Oh…” you simply answer, a small knot forming in your throat before you push it down by swallowing. You smile. “Are you sure? I mean…” you look at the ofrenda, thinking. “It’s your ofrenda and I don’t have any food for them anyway, and I don’t want to crowd —”

“There’s plenty of space,” Miguel says gently. “As to the food, I can help you cook just like you’ve helped me. There’s plenty of time for it.” Noticing your smile, Miguel smiles, too. “Just say the word,” Miguel continues. “And we'll start immediately.”

That’s how, a bit later, the ofrenda is no longer only Miguel’s. It’s his and yours.

Instead of only four portraits, there’s seven. There’s one of both your parents, one of Aunt May and Uncle Ben, Peter, Conchata, Gabby, Gabriel, and Miguel’s wife. Like Miguel, you’ll be offering favorite foods and snacks later on when he does, too. Additionally, you went ahead and added belongings to your loved ones that were significant to them in life. For Peter, you’ve obviously offered his record player and favorite albums.

When you place the last one, a Billie Holiday album, you step back to look at everything. There’s even more sugar skulls, candles, and banners than before. And, the scent of marigolds? It has grown tenfold because more were acquired by Miguel, who went out on a quick trip to buy more.

You smile, feeling thankful for the kind and sweet gesture and privilege to share and partake in such a beautiful tradition with Miguel.

“There,” Miguel gently says with his own smile, staring at the ofrenda with everyone now. He hums and readjusts a flower in front of your parents’ photo before stepping back, standing next to you. “We can place the food in a bit,” Miguel offers before something catches his attention through the windows.

A few seconds later, you both walk to the windows to look closer. Vibrant holographic sugar skulls decorate the sky above Nueva York’s downtown, announcing that the celebrations have started.

At the sight, Miguel smiles softly. It’s been several years since he’s gone to any of those events. Too many years. He slowly turns to face you, noting the smile and intrigue in your eyes. He doesn’t even think about it twice before he makes another offer. “Do you want to go?” he asks. “There’s always live performances, amazing food, small businesses, and great music.”

“Really?” you ask softly, looking at him. “Do you want to go?”

With you? Anywhere. Miguel grins and nods, not sharing that thought. “I’m up for it, if you are.”

You chuckle with a spark in your eyes. “I’d love to!”

-♡-

When you reach Nueva York’s beautiful downtown, the sight of sugar skulls and marigolds greet your and Miguel’s eyes. Lively music reaches your ears and the wonderful, mouthwatering scent of food sold from food trucks reaches your noses.

As you both walk side by side, you notice children eagerly pointing to the holographic sugar skulls in the sky, trying to get their adults’ attention. Countless of people walk around with their faces painted in the traditional sugar skull makeup with intricate patterns. You also notice that many girls and women walk around with beautiful and bright hair accessories, many of which include big flowers.

Pulling your jacket closer to you due to the chilly weather, you smile in delight because of the spirit. There’s always an energy to Nueva York, but tonight, you can sense a different kind — one that seems to be almost pulsing. You silently wonder if that energy comes from those who have departed this physical world, but are visiting their loved ones still on Earth once more.

Your thoughts are interrupted when a lady from a small booth beckons Miguel and you with a bright smile. You glance at Miguel before looking back at the lady, quickly realizing the service she’s providing: painting people’s faces for the celebrations.

“Would you guys like to have your faces painted? I have a special price for couples!” the woman offers, still smiling.

You look away with a small smile. There it is again.

Only three weeks ago on Miguel’s birthday, back in your universe, Mr. Stanley assumed Miguel is your boyfriend. Now, there’s this lady also making the assumption. Thankfully, Miguel didn’t seem to mind. He said it was an innocent assumption, which calmed your worries about him being offended that day.

Next to you, Miguel scratches his neck after hearing the woman’s words. Once again, someone has assumed you’re dating. Despite how many times he’s been told that personally, Miguel still finds it surprising. Do the two of you give that impression? He wonders, considering that this lady has to be the fifth or sixth person to make that innocent assumption. He then wonders how many more people make that silent presumption just from seeing the two of you walking around. Before he has a chance to think further, like what does it mean that you’re being mistaken as a couple, you smile and walk to the booth to look at the different design options. And, of course, Miguel follows you.

“You can do matching, or different designs if you wish,” the lady offers. “I can do different eye colors, too. And, just letting you know, my friend in the next booth is selling hair pieces if you’d like to complete the look, señorita [miss].”

“That sounds lovely! Thank you for letting me know,” you answer politely before looking at the lady’s work again.

“Do you want to get it done?” Miguel asks after he thanks her, too.

“I…” you trail off and look at him, wondering if it’s okay.

“If you want to, you should. It’s fun,” Miguel gently says with a small smile. “We have time, too.”

“Alright!” you happily answer before the lady leads you to a chair and begins to ask you what design you’d like.

Meanwhile, Miguel watches from the side, intrigued by the process. He leans on a street lamp, slipping both his hands into his pockets as he quietly listens to you and the lady make small talk while she paints your face. Unbeknownst to him, Miguel looks like a devoted boyfriend and/or husband, waiting on his partner.

To Miguel’s surprise, it doesn’t take long for the lady to finish the makeup, but then again, he realizes that the lady must have a lot of experience and your face is probably one of hundreds she’s painted today alone.

You stand up and look at yourself through a handheld mirror that the lady offers you, admiring and thanking her for the wonderful service before you return the mirror. You then reach into your pocket for money — cash you’ve converted to this dimension’s — to pay the lady, but before you even get a chance to pull it out, Miguel has already handed the woman a bill.

“Miguel —” you start, but Miguel politely shakes his head at you just as the lady, who silently finds the interaction cute, takes the money.

“It’s on me. Keep the change, doña [short for señora/madam],” Miguel says.

“You’re paying for two people, mijo [term of endearment; my son],” the lady says. “Let me give you your change.”

“No, that’s alright, really,” Miguel insists.

“At least, let me paint your face, mijo. You’re not only paying for your girlfriend’s, but for one more person. You might as well.”

“I don’t…” Miguel starts, but trails off. He’s unsure of how to explain to the kind lady that he’s not open to someone touching his face plus feeling sheepish because she’s called you his ‘girlfriend’.

“Your girlfriend can do it, if you want,” the lady offers, picking up on Miguel’s reluctance.

Standing there, your cheeks feel hot. Not once, but twice has this lady said you’re Miguel’s girlfriend. Pushing past that, you glance at Miguel. “I can if you want, Migs,” you offer.

Miguel looks around for a few seconds before nodding. “If that’s okay… Alright.”

Once Miguel agrees, the lady quickly sets things for you on the other side of the table, so she can continue to work if other customers arrive. In a minute or two, you’re sitting in front of Miguel with a makeup brush in your hand. You begin by painting his entire face with white paint, just like yours. While you do so, Miguel stares at the tent’s ceiling, not failing to notice how close the two of you are sitting. You’re so close to each other that your knees are slightly pressed against each other’s.

After a few seconds, Miguel finally looks at you. His gaze travels over your face, taking the opportunity to look at the painted details now that you’re closer. His eyes stop at your own, noting that you chose a light purple color for eye shadow.

“You chose purple,” Miguel states as you paint one of his cheeks, almost done with the white paint.

“Mhm,” you simply answer, eyebrows furrowed. You look away to gather more paint before resuming. “I chose it because of Gabby, since she loved the color lilac.”

Miguel’s lips part in surprise. He hadn’t made that connection, but now that he knows, his chest flutters with ternura [tenderness]. You chose it for Gabby, his daughter. He smiles, even as you work the brush against his cheek again. “That’s so sweet of you,” Miguel says very softly so the lady doesn’t hear.

You smile back, your cheeks warm. “I just thought it would be… Nice. In her honor.”

“It’s more than nice. It’s sweet, Dulzura,” Miguel answers. “It’s a sweet gesture and I like to think that wherever Gabby is… Perhaps here… She’s appreciating it.”

“I’m sure she’s here,” you answer, reassuring Miguel. “With you.”

Smiling, Miguel nods. “With us.”

“With us…” you repeat softly, your chest filling with happiness at the fact that Miguel said ‘with us’.

Once done with the white paint, you switch to black paint and begin to draw the lines on Miguel’s face. You do the cheekbones and teeth first, finding it the easiest to do. Then, you do his nose by drawing an upside down heart at the tip, finding it cute. You draw circles around his eyes next, tracing Miguel’s orbital cavities, before filling them in and adding a decorative outline.

When you reach his forehead, you think about it. You had flowers drawn on yours, but you don’t want to do that for Miguel. You wish to do something different, something more fitting for him, but what? You hum softly before you begin to draw.

You carefully draw a sun in the middle of Miguel’s forehead, with little rays coming from it to indicate that it’s shining. When you’re done with that, you add a few more details above Miguel’s eyebrows. With a smile, you pull back when you’re fully done and grab the handheld mirror so Miguel can see the final result.

“You drew a sun,” Miguel murmurs with a smile when he sees it.

“Yep,” you say proudly. “Solecito [little sun].”

Miguel’s eyes move from the mirror to you, finding a grin on your face.

“What?” you say. “Some time ago, you jokingly said you were everyone’s solecito. ‘A ball of sunshine’, if I recall correctly.”

“It was sarcasm,” Miguel says, chuckling. “I’m not.”

You sigh and put away the makeup brushes. “For them, maybe.”

“Wh-what?” Miguel stutters, caught by surprise.

With a smile, you close the paints. “I’m saying you’re a ball of sunshine. To me.” You look up, closing the last paint. “Solecito.”

“Solecito,” Miguel repeats, his cheeks growing hot. “Little sun.”

“Mi solecito [my little sun],” you say this time, nodding with a warm smile, leaving Miguel speechless when you add the ‘mi’. Your little sun. You’re saying he’s your little sun. You stand up and grab the materials before walking to the lady to return them. “Here’s everything, ma’am. Thank you so much!”

Meanwhile, Miguel’s brain is having a moment. He’s never been given such a nickname by anyone. Ever. And now he’s your little sun — your ball of sunshine. Miguel’s cheeks grow hotter the longer he sits there, your sweet nickname echoing in his mind, leaving him flustered.

Your solecito.

“Are you ready for the live performances?” you ask, standing in front of him, so eager to go while Miguel’s brain is short circuiting.

“Si [yes],” Miguel replies, clearing his throat. “Yes. I’m ready.”

Miguel forces himself to stand up, trying to push past his pleasant surprise from your new nickname for him. You both thank the lady and wish her well with her business before walking away, happy with the service.

Walking again, Miguel continues to push past his feelings when he spots the small business the lady who painted your faces mentioned earlier. His gaze quickly sweeps over the beautiful hair accessories, which reminds him of the lady’s words, about how you can complete your look with something like that. He stops walking, something you quickly notice.

“Miguel?” you ask, wondering what’s up.

“There’s hair accessories,” Miguel states, staring at one of the tables with organized accessories. He flashes you a grin and gestures for you to follow him before he walks to the booth, leaving you wondering.

You slowly reach his side, finding him already talking with the owner.

“We have several options. Are you looking for a specific color?” the woman asks.

“Hmm, Dulzura,” Miguel turns to face you. “Do you want it to match your makeup?”

You smile, realizing. “I suppose it would be appropriate,” you answer.

“Something purple, please,” Miguel politely says before the lady shows the two of you all the options she has.

The lady shows you headbands, bows, and other cute dainty hair accessories — all with the color purple in different shades. You watch with careful attention as she shows you thing after thing, all so beautiful you’re undecided on which one to buy until you turn to Miguel, who lifts a headband from another table to inspect it. Gazing at it more closely, you realize the headband has handmade flowers out of lilac and white ribbons. It also has some hints of pink due to smaller decorations glued to the ribbons for a little dazzle.

“That one, please,” you say with a smile.

“This one?” Miguel asks with a smile, moving it forward so you can get a better look at it.

“That one,” you confirm, finding it beautiful.

“We’ll take this one, then,” Miguel says, looking at the price tag. Before you even have a chance to pull out your money, Miguel, once again, pulls out his wallet and pays.

“Miguel,” you say softly.

“What is it?” Miguel asks, already knowing by the little pout on your lips.

“You can’t keep paying for everything, you know.”

Miguel grins. “It’s my treat, so please let me,” he answers with amusement before he steps closer to you. To your immense surprise, Miguel steps even closer while holding the headband in both hands. He moves them closer to your head carefully and slowly, as if to avoid startling you. And then, to add to your growing surprise, Miguel gently slips the headband on your head.

You’re so caught off guard by Miguel’s brave gesture that you’re not sure if you misheard yourself gasping, but you’re aware of your widened eyes and parted lips.

Happy with the way the headband looks and how it adorns your hair, Miguel steps back with a soft smile. A gentle blush covers not only his cheeks, but also the top of his ears. For a few seconds, Miguel seems to avoid your wide gaze out of shyness. At last, he meets your eyes, still finding surprise on your face. “Does it feel okay?” Miguel asks, slowly and almost reluctantly taking another step back to give you space.

“Ye-yes,” you answer softly, speechless. You clear your throat and smile, trying to shake off the surprise, or at least not make it so obvious that you're shocked. “Yes. It's fine. Perfect, actually,” you continue with a smile.

“Good,” Miguel says with a small grin. “Now your look is complete, Dulzura.”

“Your change, sir,” the business owner says, dropping the money on his hand.

While Miguel thanks the lady, your eyes land on a beautiful bow. It's lilac with little white pearls lining the two tails. You gently pick it up, imagining that little girl with the toothy smile who loved science and fútbol so much wearing it.

In seconds, you imagine what it'd be like if she was here. You can picture Miguel carrying her on his shoulders, both their faces painted for the celebrations. If she was walking, you can imagine her holding his hand as they walk, tugging him to the small businesses to see everything. You even imagine her pulling him to this booth and picking this very bow because it matches her dress.

Smiling, you check the tag before pulling money out. “I'd like to buy this one, please,” you tell the lady once Miguel finishes talking with her.

Miguel turns to look at you, surprised. “You should've told me you liked that one, too. I can pay —” Miguel starts but you hand the money to the lady before he can finish.

“It’s for Gabby and I wish to pay for it,” you gently reply to Miguel.

“Would you like to get this packaged?” the lady offers.

“Please. That way it doesn't get damaged on the way home,” you answer.

“Of course. Are you guys going home to your child? A little girl, maybe?” the woman asks the two of you with a smile, making another innocent assumption that you both have a daughter.

“I…” you trail off before you start to shake your head.

“My daughter — she — she's no longer with us,” Miguel explains gently, though not explaining that Gabby is just his daughter.

The lady's face softens when she hears that. “Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss,” she replies full of sincerity. She closes the small box and hands it to you, your money on top. “It's on the house, for your little girl.”

Both Miguel and you decline politely at the same time, but the lady gently pushes the box into your hands.

“Please. As a gift,” she insists, still pushing the box into your hands.

You accept it hesitantly, only to not come off as rude. You pick up the money bill and offer it again. “Please-”

“No, no. Please take it. For your daughter,” the lady continues, stepping back. “I want you to. Accept it as a Día de Los Muertos gift. I hope your little one enjoys it.”

You sigh softly and lower your hand. “Thank you so much,” you reply, holding the box carefully.

“Gracias, doña. You didn’t have to, but thank you,” Miguel says after you, sincerely thanking the lady.

“Of course, jovenes [young people; youths]. Please take care and enjoy the celebrations. Have a great night,” the woman says, wishing you well before another customer approaches the booth.

Miguel and you walk away and continue on your way to watch some of the live performances, holding the box closer to you to make sure the bow doesn’t get damaged somehow.

“That was so nice of her,” you say softly as you both reach the center of the downtown, where there’s already a lot of people waiting.

“It was,” Miguel answers, agreeing. “It was a kind gesture. Hers and yours,” Miguel continues. “I appreciate you trying to buy it for Gabby. I’m certain she would’ve loved it.” Miguel smiles at that, knowing it’s true.

You grin. “I was thinking about her wearing it with a matching dress.”

Miguel’s smile softens, imagining his daughter eager to wear her bow with a matching dress. It brings a warmth to his chest. “Thank you, Dulzura. She would’ve definitely worn it like that. I… I imagine she would’ve wanted me to do her hair in a ponytail to wear it, too.”

You both grow quiet, thinking about that vision until the live performances begin. With interest and enthusiasm, Miguel and you watch lovely performances by amazing artists, including a mariachi band, who sing some of the most iconic songs to Mexico and talented ballet folk dancers donning beautiful and authentic attires among other great presentations that keep the spirit for the celebrations high.

Towards the end, Miguel and you eventually decide to go home, but not before you run into an elderly couple who you both overhear quietly talking about not having enough money to buy food from one of the food trucks.

“Tenemos comida en la casa, mi amor [we have food at home, my love],” the elderly man said. “Maybe in a few weeks we can buy the ingredients and make this meal ourselves. We can save for it.”

“You’re right, Balby. We should go home now,” his wife answered.

Hearing that, neither Miguel nor you could simply walk away. So, you bought the couple dinner and even gave them extra money for food. You’re not sure how much it was in total, but Miguel gave them plenty and you gave them what you converted a few days ago. Knowing they’ll be enjoying a great dinner, Miguel and you wish them a good night before you walk away, wanting to go home to complete the ofrenda and have dinner.

While you both walk away, side by side as always, the elderly couple watch you from their seats.

“So you were right, mi amor,” the man says with a grin.

“I always am, Balby,” the woman answers with satisfaction. “Those two have pure and courageous hearts. And they’re meant to be together.”

“I cannot deny it,” the man says. “Even I can see that. However will we pay them for their kindness tonight?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the woman says, watching the two figures fade into the crowd.

“How about a wager, mi amor?”

“No wagers tonight!” the woman replies before they both disappear, invisible to everyone else, to pass on the kindness Miguel and you gave to them.

[Characters from The Book of Life film; La Muerte and Xibalba (Balby)]

It takes less than half an hour before you reach the penthouse, and upon arrival, Miguel and you change into lounging clothes before heading to the kitchen to reheat the food. In the meantime, Miguel also makes pancakes with chocolate chips for Gabby, wanting those to be freshly made.

Once everything is ready, the food is offered.

Plates with tamales and pink conchas are placed. Bowls with delicious pozole, too. A fresh batch of chocolate chip pancakes is set in front of Gabby’s photograph. Apples and oranges are placed for Conchata and strawberries for Gabby. The various kinds of candy you placed on a tray earlier are distributed between Gabby and Gabriel, which include Paletas Payaso, Canel’s gum, and Pulparindos. And of course, Miguel didn’t forget his loved ones’ favorite drinks like the Jarritos and Chocomilk for Gabby.

Your parents, uncle Ben and Aunt May, and Peter had their favorite foods and drinks served, too.

To complete the ofrenda, Miguel places other offerings for his loved ones. He begins by putting a few things for his mom and his wife. When he’s done with their portions of the ofrenda, he moves to Gabriel’s part. Miguel smiles at his brother’s photo before he gently pulls out Gabriel’s green scarf from his pocket, placing it on the lower level in front of the photograph, offering it.

At last, there’s the youngest O’Hara, Gabby. Like previous years, Miguel places dolls for her, from a scientist to a soccer player and a few other toys. He offers a few new books because she loved to read, books he bought a few days ago with you at his side. From the bag in which he stored everything, he also pulls out a soccer ball. It was a must, of course. And finally, Miguel places her guitar, too, hoping that wherever Gabby is, she can enjoy her beloved guitar.

“I almost forgot,” you say softly, walking closer with the packaged bow. You offer it to Miguel, so he can place it, but Miguel shakes his head.

“You place it,” he replies. “I know you were going to buy it for her, so you should do it. It’s alright if you do so.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, not wanting to push boundaries.

“I’m sure, truly,” Miguel reassures you with a small smile, one you return.

With a nod, you open the box and pull the bow out, admiring it for a few seconds and thinking once more about a different timeline in which Gabriella was here, physically. You place it between the two dolls, silently hoping that Gabby likes it. You step back to look at the fully finished ofrenda. It took some time and love, but it’s completed at last and it’s so beautiful.

Both Miguel and you stand in silence, admiring it. The silence is a comfortable one, not out of grief despite the several photos in display of loved ones physically gone. It’s a silence of comfort and hope that those who have left too soon and unexpectedly come home, even if just for a few hours to share a meal with their living loved ones once more.

Miguel’s eyes trace every single photo in silence. He feels at peace, something he didn’t feel three years ago. There was too much pain, too much heartbreak. And, too much loneliness, even if he didn’t fully admit it to himself back then. Yet, three years later, Miguel stands in his penthouse — same one that felt so incredibly void and cold before, but now feels like home.

Home.

Miguel turns to face you. Things are different now. There’s less pain, less heartbreak. He’s learned better ways to manage his feelings, too, that’s for sure. Even better, there’s no more loneliness. With a soft sigh, Miguel finally breaks the silence. “Dinner?” he simply says, watching the way you turn to look at him with your face still painted, much like his.

“That sounds good. I’m actually starving,” you confess with a grin.

“It’s all that walking,” Miguel answers before he gestures for the two of you to return to the kitchen for food.

Due to the celebrations, Miguel and you go back to the living room with plates containing food to have dinner with your loved ones. You enjoy the food over conversation regarding the wonderful performances.

Not surprisingly, Lyla shows up halfway through dinner to play music for the two of you. She also takes the opportunity to sneakily take pictures for her secret, or not so secret, folder of digital content before disappearing again.

Eventually, Miguel and you take off the makeup before returning to the kitchen for what feels like the hundredth time to prepare café de olla and arroz con leche specifically for Gabby. When all is done, more than two mugs are set on one of the kitchen counters to pour coffee into them. Together, the two of you carry the mugs to the ofrenda, placing one mug for everyone except Gabby.

“Para ti no, mija,” Miguel tenderly states with a smile on his lips. He places the mug you gifted him for Father’s Day earlier this year, the one with the two bees, filled with arroz con leche and topped with a generous amount of cinnamon powder with the rest of her food. “Estás muy chiquita para tomar café todavía, but I made your favorite instead.” Taking a step back, Miguel’s eyes soften when he looks at his daughter’s photograph. If only she were here, Miguel thinks, before he settles down on the floor with you in front of the ofrenda. He picks up his mug with coffee and takes a drink, the music from earlier still playing thanks to Lyla who left it on. “Thank you,” Miguel suddenly says, turning to look at you. “For joining me tonight and participating in the tradition… For allowing your family to join mine.”

You hum and offer him a smile, holding your mug in both hands. “No, thank you… Solecito,” you reply, using that nickname again. “For allowing me to be part of it again and for inviting my family into your ofrenda. It means so much to me,” you continue. “So, thank you.”

“Siempre,” Miguel whispers, his heart skipping a beat when he hears the new sweet nickname you’ve given him. “Always… But, seriously… Thank you for being here with me again. For accepting my offer.” Miguel’s eyes meet yours, his gaze tender. He knows that his invitation for your family to join the family ofrenda might have been too much — too personal — even for best friends, but still, Miguel couldn’t help himself from making it. He turns to look at the ofrenda again, noting how big it turned out with your family being part of it. After a few seconds, Miguel turns to face you again. “Thank you.”

You smile sweetly and nod, knowing what Miguel means. Having your family join the ofrenda was certainly a personal gesture, a much more intimate one than previous ones simply because it’s about family, and it’s a gesture you appreciate so much. “Always,” you whisper back.

Much, much later, you lean back on the couch with heavy eyes. It’s late at night, about three in the morning now. Miguel and you have spent the last few hours just talking and drinking café de olla. You were feeling alert, but all of a sudden, you’re hit with a tranquility, one that seems to caress you into a sleep. You lean into it for a few seconds, closing your eyes and feeling a warmth surround — embrace — you.

Feeling the same, Miguel’s crimson eyes flutter, but he fights the sleep. Or, tries to, anyway. He glances at you, remembering your meeting with Osborn earlier today. He thinks about the hug you two shared, pondering for a bit before he finally speaks. “Dulzura?” he whispers, not sure if you’re asleep already.

“Hmm?” you sleepily respond, your eyes fluttering just to look at him.

Miguel’s lips quirk up at the sight. You look so cute when you’re sleepy. “I was just thinking about how you said your meeting with Harry was awkward at first because he went straight for the hug,” he says slowly.

“Mhm, it was,” you confirm.

“Did the hug feel awkward, too?” Miguel asks, seeing you’re more asleep than awake now.

You yawn softly, covering your mouth, and nod. “It was. It felt weird,” you respond too softly.

Miguel hums as a response, thinking. He feels something in his chest again, something he didn’t register earlier. Envy, perhaps? Envy that Harry Osborn who has only been in your life for a few months now, if even that, has embraced you before he has, even if it was awkward.

He sighs and rubs his eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s even feeling like that. It’s silly.

Right?

On top of that, Miguel also feels a bit of shame and disappointment in himself. “I’m sorry,” Miguel sleepily murmurs to you.

“What — For what?” you ask, Miguel’s words waking you up a bit.

“For… I still haven’t — You know. I haven’t embraced you yet,” Miguel replies quietly, disappointment and shame laced in his tone.

“Miguel,” you start gently. “You don’t have to apologize. Not for that, you know that. This isn’t a race. It’s a healing journey, and everyone needs their own pace to heal from their grief and trauma. You’re going at your pace and therefore, honoring your boundaries and yourself, which is so important. That’s all that matters to me.” You offer him a reassuring smile before continuing. “That’s not to say, I don’t wish to… One day have the opportunity to experience that — a hug from you, but everything at its due time, okay?” you murmur softly, as if there were other people in the room.

Miguel nods, reassured by your words and gentle reminder. “Thank you, Dulzura. I appreciate it…” he answers, feeling better. You’re always so understanding of him and his boundaries. After a few seconds, he continues. “One of these days,” Miguel tells you softly, sounding like a promise he fully intends on fulfilling.

“One of these days,” you repeat gently, looking forward to the day.

You both think about it — about the day in which Miguel will be open to that kind of physical touch. You think about what it’d feel like, to hold each other close. To learn what it's like to be in each other's arms.

When that day comes, Miguel knows he will hug you close and remember what it feels like to hug someone after so many years of going without a single embrace.

With that in mind, you both admire the ofrenda again. It somehow looks even more beautiful now in the dark living room with the candles’ dancing flames. It almost feels like they're waving at the two of you.

Still looking at the ofrenda, Miguel wonders if there’s a chance that both your relatives are here tonight. If they made it. He hopes they did and that they enjoyed the food and belongings that were offered to them.

As the minutes tick by, that wave of sleep rolls over you again and instead of fighting it, Miguel and you surrender to it this time. There’s a warmth that reaches and embraces you both. It’s so familiar neither of you can help yourselves from leaning into it like a child leans into their parents’ warmth for safety and comfort.

The last thing you both hear is static coming from the speakers from which music was just now playing. A soft, sad guitar begins to play, but you’re both asleep already — lulled by a warm, gentle, and familiar energy not visible to the human eye, but always around.

Remember me

Though I have to say goodbye

Recuérdame…

Previous ⋅ ♡ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ♡ ⋅ Next

A/N: Hiiiiiiii!! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter 🥺 Ever since last year, I wanted to write a short chapter for Día de Muertos, but alas, I didn't get the chance to, so I couldn't miss it this year!

Guys... I was giggling and kicking my feet when MIGUEL PUT THE HEADBAND ON OUR HEADS RAHHHHHHHHHHH AND THEN THE FACT HE FELT A BIT JEALOUS OVER HARRY HUGGING US??? (forgive me for screaming but !!!) and then the fact he's thinking more about it -- about hugging us!! 🥹

Also, don't mind the direct reference to The Book of Life. I was working on this chapter Thursday and listening to the official soundtrack for it because it's genuinely one of my fav movies ever, which I plan on watching tonight, and then the idea popped in my head to include La Muerte and Xibalba somehow and well... I did it. 😌

Also, what do we think about Harry? I was cringing while writing that part because they're so awkward!😭😭 But anyway, what do we think? 🤔 Side note, I was fighting the urge to make Felix a hot old man, I'm ngl 😔(I'm still imagining him to be hot, I'm sorry).

Ok, I think that's all and I must go now because my siblings are bothering me to help them with something. I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, show it some love! Take care everyone, and happy November! 💖

Alondra❤️

p.s. I haven't forgotten about chapter 20's comments and reblogs. I'm sorry for how long it's taken me to reply to them. I got behind because of the three chapters I dropped 3 weeks ago, but I promise I'll get to them this upcoming week!! Thank you so much for the amazing love and support as always!! I love you guys 💖💖🥹

Credits: Gif by @/halloween-pumpkin-queen. Purple dividers by @/thecutestgrotto and green divider by @/vysleix

Taglist:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp

@rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj

@taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner @geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii @nina-from-317

@kavimoo

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #nonviolent communication #soft!Miguel O'Hara

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woaza · 1 month ago

Text

Delico's nursery with a S/O who speaks another Language.

Paring(s) : Dali D. x Reader, Henrique L. x reader, Dino C. x reader, Gerhard F. x reader.

Synopsis : They were unsure how the children would take to their new mother but the children start to speak their new wife’s native/second language. Seeming to start to grow closer together. (I love this trope sm)

Word count : Over 2k (Each part is a little over 600.)

Warning : None!

A/N : The Gender isn’t specified but heavily implied maternal figure. Not completely based cannon because I just erased their wives/moms, but yk that’s just how we roll. Plus there is a total of like eight DN fanfics on here so I’m doing my best to supply. I picked languages at random, I’m only fluent in English and I’m learning Italian. Other than that this is Google translate. If there is a typo feel free to let me know!

Dali Delico. (French)

After Dali’s late wife passed away it left him a single father. After that it was hard to connect to anyone about his loss. It was traumatic for him to say the least but following his late wife’s wishes he chose to be an active father. Which was a bit strange for a man of his position to say the least. He was overwhelmed with his duties, grief, and children.

That is until he met you who was like a breath of fresh air. As much as he loved his late wife, their marriage was almost pearly political. He thought that eventually he’d remarry another woman and set another alliance. Which he does but he couldn’t be more lucky. You. He first met you at another ball, normally all the same faces but he didn’t recognize you and he knows he would’ve recognized a face like yours.

He fell first and fell harder, a true companionate marriage. It didn’t take long for him to make himself your husband. What came slower was him introducing you to the children. Ul was no problem, you cooed and smiled at the baby but Raphael was more challenging.

It had now been a little over a month since you moved in. It was Mid spring, all the flowers blooming and cute baby animals being born.

The moon was only a crest this night as Dali was awoken to the sound of wailing. Ul was crying, Dali peaked open one of his eyes. Not lifting his head from the pillow. Checking to see if you had heard the baby, you hadn’t. He sighs a bit before he gets out of bed. Making his way to the crib lifting Ul up and rocking him in his arms gently. Which did help calm him down but the tears didn’t cease.

“Lait! —Lait!” Ul started to repeat the same word, Ul was at the age when he began to babble and say small words. Yet this word… or noise was new to Dali. He was far too tried to really think about what Ul was saying, After a small moment he sighs and simply checks his diaper and upon seeing it clean assumes Ul just wants some milk. After that Ul falls right back to sleep and Dali is able to climb back into bed with you. Now with a satisfied sigh he pulls the covers over himself and pulls you close to him.

The next morning he had some duties to attend to but was home by lunch. He was quick to look for you and the children. Then much to his satisfaction finds you with both of the children by the large fountain. He starts to walk across the court yard. Before he opens his mouth to speak he hears Raphael and it catches him a bit off guard.

“Bébés canards!” He says his small cubby hand pointing to the small ducks and their mother bathing in the fountain together. You smile and nod you head. “Oh oui! Ce sont des bébés canards très mignons!” Raphael seems to somewhat under stand, he smiles and nods leaning onto you and grabbing ahold of your skirt as all three of you stare at the ducks.

Dali can’t help but smile, happy to see you bonding with his (your) children.

Henrique Lorca (Spanish.)

Raising Twins was a handful, in which he had no part in. Henrique didn’t lean one way or the other. Yes he loved his daughters, but he was also nobility and did very little to help actually raise them. A head pat and a hug when he had time. Yet at his grown age he couldn’t change a diaper if he had to. He believed he was far above that kind of behavior. The head of house Lorca changing a nappy? Be realistic.

For men like him he was never really taught a deep parental connection. Like how his Daughters are now he was also raised by nanny. But unlike parents, nanny’s are forced and paid to be with you. They will care about you and grow connected to you but it just will never been the same a your parent.

When he got married to you, he was over the moon. You were so beautiful and lovely conversation. Next thing you knew you were living in the Lorca manor. You yourself were a busy lady, now with the title promotion of being the lady of the house. Doing your best to keep up with Henrique. What he didn’t do was properly warn you about was His two daughters.

It wasn’t that the two girls were bad and you needed to be warned, it was how little he mentioned them before your wedding. It was a bit concerning. But you still couldn’t be more happy with getting the title of Step mom. You almost immediately jumped into the role, Lucia and Elena couldn’t be more happy with their new mom. You played and spent decent time with them. While Henrique still was more or less absent. It wasn’t until The whole situation with Dali did he really start to notice his two children.

It was late in the evening. Well past Supper when he came home, he was exhausted and tired. All he wanted to was to find you, rest and bathe. He walked to your shared chambers just to find you absent. He quirked a brow at the empty room, it was so late where could you be?

“Where is my wife?” He stopped a nearby maid, who quickly told him you were putting the twins to rest. He rolled his eyes, not a job for someone of your status. He marched over to the twins room, as he got closer he started to hear something. With each step he got closer it came more and more clear.

Clear as day he heard a soft melody “Hija del corazon- ” It was your voice and the twins singing along. “Deja ya de llorar, Junto a ti yo voy a estar.” The hallway was dark besides the moon shining through the windows and the dim light of the room, you and the twins were in. He got closer and peaked through the crack in the door. He watched as You pulled the duvet over each of them.

“Buenas noches.” a gentle smile crossed your features. The both looked up at you at yawned a bit before they responded “Buenas noches mamá.” Something about the moment made his heart swell.

Dino Classico (German)

Classico absolutely had no part in his son’s childhood up till this point. He could care less in much honesty. Theodore was a child from one of his past marriages. One of his failed wife’s, a woman who couldn’t handle him. A women who wasn’t fit to be his wife. This was Dino’s Mentality, which for better or worse is really bad. It made him a horrible husband and an even worse father. If he couldn’t bring himself to love his wife, whom would be his lover.

Then it was no surprise to see how he interacted with his child. Poor Theodore, an over independent child. Growing more and more like his father by the day.

He was a cold and callous man. Every marriage he has had was strictly political. Each wife had to take certain steps and follow rules. Sleep in different room, dress the way he wanted, and speak the way he wanted. He never has felt a deep love or passion. He just wasn’t very interested in such things.

That was all true, and still is for the most part. He still ignores Theodore but his views on how to love may have changed. As you liked to tell him “Change can be for the better.” He for the most part didn’t like when you said that. He preferred tradition, change was a hassle and took time to get used to.

Though each day at a time you take to changing your cold husband’s mind. You’ve made remarkable progress as-well! He even likes to share a room, he says it’s simply because “Your the only wife who’s been able to meet my expectations.”. Which yes could be true but you knew deep down he truly loved you.

Today was a cold winters day, A routine day. Nothing out of the ordinary. He woke up and left to deal with some Vlad Agency business. Upon returning home normally he is greeted by you, which he believes is a must and only what he deserves. Yet today you are not by the door. Only the maids and butlers great him back.

“Where is my lady wife?” A scowl across his face as he speaks, a butler is quick to tell him you are with Theodore. He can’t help but be a bit confused. With Theodore? What reason could you have to be with Theodore, there was simply nothing of discussion between the two of you. He never cared if Theodore liked you or even if the two of you had a relationship.

He quickly made is way to Theodore’s small private room, it wasn’t a play room. No, Theodore was more sophisticated. It was more akin to a study room. He opens the door to find you and Theodore sat at a table leaned over a book.

“Son, wife.” He says firmly, both of you look up from the book. You smile and Theodore gives a respectful nod. “Neither of you greeted me upon my arrival. What is the meaning of this?” He was displeased and it was clear.

“I’m sorry Husband, me and Theodore must’ve gotten caught up in our studies.”

“Studies?” He said quickly not even giving you time to breathe. “Why yes, our studies. Theodore has-”. Before you could finish he cuts you off lifting his hand and with his other pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have little care for such things, don’t make the same mistake tomorrow. As of now I need you to come with me. I have actual important matters to discuss with you.”

“Yes of course.” You quickly stand up and push your chair in. Your gloved hand was gently placed on Theodore’s shoulder. “Wir werden unser Studium bald fortsetzen.” He smiled at this and nodded his head “Ja, bitte. Das uh, würde mir gefallen.” This made Dino’s eyes widened. His pride wouldn’t let him comment on it. Refusing to give the child even a spec of attention.

You and him quickly exit the room. “You know you shouldn’t give the boy any attention. If he wants to learn another language I’ll pay a tutor, don’t waste your time.”. Politely you shake your head. “He’s my son, I wanted to.” Dino felt confused, why were you so kind and patient? He couldn’t help but be a bit enamored by it.

Gerhard Fra (Hindi)

Lord Fra wasn’t present at all in young Angelico’s life at all. As a matter of fact. Angelico rather annoyed him. What reason could the boy possibly have for talking to him? He had a nanny and anything he could ever realistically want. So why was this child so persistent on his garnering his attention. Children often made him angry and that fact never changed even after he had his own. Taking care of you children is low class.

Gerhard had more important goals, he had a reputation. Which he was determined to uphold. A long list of things he had to do each day and childcare wasn’t even on the list. Like his father and his father’s father they left the duties of childcare to their nanny’s and servants.

He was capable of love, he understood it. More or less and simply put he just didn’t want to give it. Believing that he had better areas to devote his attention to. Fatherhood was unnecessary for a man of his class. Why parent when you could pay someone to do that for you?

One thing he did have time and attention for was you, his newly wed wife. He loved you deeply and was completely enamored by you, it was almost hard for him to stay calm around you. To keep his dignity. Don’t get lord Fra wrong he did keep his manners about him. Yet you were so gorgeous and he had fallen completely for you. He couldn’t help but want to hold your hand or kiss you maybe in times when it would be deemed inappropriate.

Lord Fra and you, lady Fra sat in the parlor. You were sitting on a couch while he sat in a nearby armchair. Sipping on tea and talking, he loved talking with you. You were so intelligent and genuinely interesting. Dispute his work ethic Gehard always seemed to make sure to make time for his wonderful wife.

As you sit there the door opened with a slow creak. Angelico’s small face looking into the room. Gehard sighed a bit but before he could speak or dismiss the boy, Angelico quickly walked towards you. “maan, madad karo!” The young boy said running to your side. Which was a bit alarming. Where had the boy learned that? Did you teach him? Surely you hadn’t?

“Madad karana?” You repeat looking at Angelico. Gerhard grows silent watching the intercation. “Haan madad karo.” He says his small hands gripping onto the fabric of your dress.

“Angelico, do not pester my wife.” Lord Fra says firmly, done with Angelicos behavior. “No dear truly it’s fine, if you’ll just excuse us for moment.” With that you and the young boy left hand in hand leaving Gerhard in the parlor all alone. He sat there pondering on what he witnessed. A feeling of jealousy started to bud in his mind, which he desperately tried to push away. Him lord Fra Jealous of a child, let alone his own. That is ridiculous, but the way you held the boys hand and immediately locked your attention onto to him. It stirred an unknown feeling in him. Yes he was jealous of the boy taking you away from him but it made him think of his own mother.

How wished that she had cared half as much as you do. It was bitter sweet to see his wife be so maternal to his child.

(This is my first post on this account and my first Fan-fiction. I did my best to learn common curtsy for fan fics, but if I mis-tag something please tell me. I’m learning and appreciate your patience.)

#delico's nursery x reader #delicos nursery #delicos nursey x reader #Dali Delico x reader #Dali x reader #henrique lorca x reader #Henrique x reader #dino classico x reader #dino x reader #Gerhard Fra x reader #Gerhard x reader #taking care of your kids is low class

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buckys-lover · 1 year ago

Text

Again

miguel o’hara x fem!reader

nsfw masterlist | main masterlist

word count: 0.7k

summary: miguel finds out you can squirt, and he wants to make you do it again

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, miguel being kinda needy, unprotected sex (pls be safe irl), a bit of praise and degrading :), creampie (bc i have a breeding kink), a lot of italics bc how else would y’all know what I mean?, also Spanish (translation at the end)

A/N: this thought would not leave my head, so this happened. also, I know there’s a lot of debate ab squirting and how it happens/what it is…I don’t have time to get into all that, just enjoy the short little fic // as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, reblog and lmk what you think! <333

Thinking about how Miguel would react the first time he makes you squirt

You two have been going at it for a while now, and he’s made you come twice already

He switches up positions, and you swear you can feel him deeper this time, hitting a spot inside you that no one ever has before

And, by God, you’re seeing stars. You can’t think straight, not when he’s pounding into you with an intensity that makes your soul leave your body; it’s a completely otherworldly experience

He just keeps going, keeps hitting that spot, and oh no, again, a-fucking-gain.

You didn’t think you could reach your orgasm so fast, but he feels so good, and you just can’t hold on any longer

You gasp, gripping onto him tightly, “Miguel, please, I’m…ay dios, I’m gonna-”

You squirt.

Miguel stops completely, staring down at where your bodies meet. Eyes wide, taking in what just happened before looking back at you to meet your shocked gaze.

You swear your breath catches in your throat. That look he gives, one of pure hunger and lust, feral even.

“Do that again.” His voice comes out as a growl, a command. Fuck, he needs you to do that again. The way you squeezed tighter around him, the way you sounded when you squirted, the dazed look you had…he needs it again.

He starts up again, trying desperately to mimic what he had been doing earlier to ensure that you would squirt at least one more time.

“Por favor querida, hágalo otra vez” You’ve never seen him so needy, and you can’t help but whine at his words.

He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves, trying to bring you closer to the edge. “C’mon baby, please, I know you have it in you, just one more time, that’s all I’m asking. Solo una vez más.”

You don’t know what comes over you. Maybe it’s his intensity, how badly he wants it, the way that he’s begging you, the way his cock hits that spot inside you just right.

You’re squirting…again.

And the moan Miguel lets out? Absolutely heavenly, you assume that’s what the angels must sound like when you reach the pearly gates. Although, they could never truly sound as good as he does.

And he’s thanking you, praising you, telling you, “Así cariño- such a good girl, squirting all over my cock like a fucking whore.”

You can’t take it anymore, you’re so overwhelmed, so strung out, so overstimulated - but you need more. Need Miguel to give you exactly what you want, and you know he’s close.

“Por favor amor, sé que quieres-” You whimper, barely able to get the words out. Your mind is foggy, unable to string together a coherent thought other than the desire to be wrecked and filled by the man before you.

“Mm, you want me to cum? Want me to fill up your pretty little pussy? Want me to breed you?”

You don’t have to say anything, the way you tighten around him and dig your nails deeper into his skin is enough of an answer.

And he can’t hold out any longer, not that he wants to anyways.

With a deep groan, he’s cumming inside. Twitching and rutting against you, keeping himself buried to the hilt, making sure that not a single drop escapes.

He leans down, still staying inside your soaked and pulsing heat, placing gentle kisses and bites on your tits and neck.

He’s muttering praises into your skin, telling you how good you were for him.

“Siempre eres tan buena para mí.” He whispers beside your ear before turning to kiss you, passion and desire and appreciation all mixing together in an intoxicating kiss.

Anyways

I think it would become a regular occurrence for Miguel to try and make you squirt at least once every time you have sex from that day forward.

—

Translation:

ay dios - oh god

Por favor querida, hágalo otra vez - please darling, do it again

Solo una vez más - just one more time

Así cariño - like that sweetheart

Por favor amor, sé que quieres - please, love, I know you want to

Siempre eres tan buena para mí - you’re always so good for me

—

tagging some mutuals and ppl who might enjoy this <3

@zstrn // @joaquinwhorres // @dilfsfordinner // @chshiresins // @1800-fight-me // @thelmis // @harlekin6 // @banana-cheese-cake // @freeshavocadoooo // @fandoms-writings // @slocalari // @tarjapearce // @solesurvivorjen // @cozykali // @sunflowersteves // @cowb00t // @mothdruid // @inklore // @golden-barnes // @yourmommaissofine // @miggyyyohara // @hargroveandco //

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caineinthecorner · 8 months ago

Text

Language (The Demon Brothers)

★ Based on my language general hcs. Part 2 is here.

Hi. Today we have the demon brothers language hcs, brought to you by a single dumbass bilingual. :D

I include mentions of bilingual/multilingual MC, but I use the term MC and you interchangeably in the bullet points. It's the same thing who cares (you can also add whatever languages you think fit I am just going off vibes tbh)

★ Lucifer.

Since he was the strongest and highest ranked out of the brothers, his innate abilities were muddled the least.

This is to say that he remembers a lot from his innate knowledge as an angel, and can actually fare incredibly well on his own if you leave him in the human realm.

(the language he preferred back in his angel days was Archaic Latin, which is also Simeon's preferred language)

When Diavolo brought up the idea of the human exchange program he was like "(: ok" and binged human language for like two months straight like a total psychopath

He's like one of those fancy 10+ languages fluent polyglots (how)

Despite his fluency, it is rare to ever see him speak them. He has better things to do and prefers demon tongue.

Or if he does, the Loquar Ad Vos that was applied to you once you arrived in Devildom doesn't allow you to hear it.

You try to swear in your native language around him and oh boy it backfires

That is how you learn he's fluent in everything under the sun (exaggeration)

Frustrated, you grumble that you will learn demon tongue just to one up him

He takes it like a challenge. Enjoy reading a million books on the demonic language and having double the homework for your little joke.

(he gives you hard material to learn on purpose to see you fail. Enjoy hell buckoo. Double hell? Hell²)

You kept misspelling good morning in demon tongue as a demonic death threat and that somehow turned into an inside joke between the two of you.

He has to keep himself from chuckling whenever MC screws up words

Your accent is lovely though. Keep it up

★ Mammon.

Spanish and English.

Ok I actually can't justify myself further than "Mams would absolutely fucking go to Vegas" and the fact that USA has a large Latino population but hear me out

You cannot tell me that he would not watch telenovelas. Like. C'mon.

he has the vibes of a Spanish speaker is what I am saying

he was SO frustrated about having to learn human languages you have no idea

In fact he probably still struggles a bit and that makes him really mad

Why is it so complicated all of the sudden?! It wasn't complicated Before!

He unconsciously associates human languages with the trauma of the fall, and the stress and hurt and turbulent emotions it conveys

So learning new languages besides the two he knows is a touchy subject for him

(but like, he will learn MC's native language despite this. Whining to hell about it, but he will. Everything for MC)

You are actually very lucky that you have Loquar Ad Vos with you, bcs he actually switches from demon tongue to either English or Spanish mid sentence sometimes.

Not that you notice with your crusty translator (Loquar also works for human languages it supports), of course.

"Ayo can you [Spanish phrase], oh and give me a [English word], for a [spanglish nonsense]" <- Mammon's dumbass not functioning in trilingual

Also he has an accent but he's trying

The others are used to it so they don't question it anymore, but they deadass could not understand Mammon at some point because trilingual was not computing

It was frustrating to say the least

You two play charades with each other when the other forgets a word in your respective languages

"MC WHAT'S THE NAME OF THE ANIMAL FUCK THAT CHANGES HOME" "... Hermit crab?" "THATS THE BITCH"

★ Leviathan.

Japanese (very decent) and English (bad) are musts.

You cannot tell me for a second this fuck watches anime subbed OR dubbed. He's too weeb for that. He will watch the original dub version for the full emotional impact

He wanted to know what happens in the weeb world of the west (and internet discourse), so he learned English through shitty 2000s anime forums and Duolingo

Probably plays Duolingo competitively and/or cries if he loses his streak

His hearing and speaking English is okay, his writing is literally so so shit

Tried to learn a romantic language to be corny but failed miserably.

(He steered clear of languages his brothers know so he isn't self conscious)

It was probably Portuguese or something since Mammon kept talking about being good at figuring it out as a Spanish speaker (due to it being a romantic language)

The diacritical marks killed him on the spot

Meu português não é bom... (crying)

Victim of the you're* corrections

Runs his several-paragraphs-long rants about weeb stuff through Satan so the grammar is legit

Actually thinking about it would be absolutely fucking hilarious if he knew russian just for funsies. Yeah add Russian to the list

He sends you crusty Russian memes at unholy hours in the morning. Calls that bonding

Would absolutely swear in loud ass Russian while playing Valorant or smt

"ПИЗДЕЦ" "LEVI IT'S 2AM SHUT THE FUCK UP"

Ah + he knows Morse code (obviously). He was really excited when he discovered it and proceeded to obsess over it for like three weeks straight.

Although by the time he learned about it humans had already moved on from its wide-spead use at sea (post-1999), the Devildom Navy adapted Morse code for their own use as per Levi's command.

He teaches MC how to use Morse code (bashfully) and they send lil' messages to each other for fun

★ Satan.

He inherited a good chunk of Lucifer’s angel-knows-all-languages innate talents.

He doesn't have the angel knowledge of every language, of course, but he definitely has a really high count since birth; Unlike his brothers who had to relearn their languages of interest.

However, he can tell™ that the topic of languages is kinda taboo-y, as it signifies the traumatic fall he himself was not there to witness, and kept quiet about it.

The others (mostly) think he just learned languages in his free time.

He is the designated google translate person. When the other brothers need translations, they ask him.

He gets very frustrated when he has to translate something on the spot

Absolutely knows Chinese and Latin just to read fancy old human books and be a menace about it

He has a copy of the Art Of War in Chinese I will fight you on that

Actually he probably owns every important human book in its native language

Culprit of the you're* corrections

If he has to read another thesis-length essay abt weeb shit by leviathan he will actually lose his shit

You know the Voynich manuscript? He's probably trying to decode it for funsies.

If you and him (unfortunately) share a language, he will absolutely correct the living shit out of you when you speak it

Look me in the eyes and tell me he wouldn't "erm ACtuAllY" MC. You can't.

His ass does not understand slang. At all. You tell him See You Later Alligator and he'll be like "tf you smoking ಠಿ⁠_⁠ಠ?"

★ Asmodeus.

French. And Korean. Maybe very mid English.

Ok so french is the language of lOVe and whatever + Korea is known for their heavy beauty-focused culture

I can see Asmo definitely picking up Korean just for makeup and self care brands purposes.

Like it is easier to browse for products he wants if he can actually browse the original places/websites himself

It's just more convenient and he's actually very good at language learning

+ Korean it is a "cutesy" language so it fits his vibe.

Like he absolutely would go "안녕 teehee (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)" to look disarming is what I am saying

He flirts to hell with Solomon in French. It is a language they both know and isn't supported by Loquar for translation so nobody can snoop their conversations

If you have the misfortune of knowing French I am so sorry for you bcs they are NASTY

Solomon is teaching him English. Asmo fakes being bad at it on purpose

★ Beelzebub.

He knows a decent amount of English.

What does he use it for? Order food. Obviously.

In fact everyone kinda assumes he just knows a few food orders and that's it but no he's actually very decent at English (borderline fluent)

He learned through clunky conversation with small restaurant owners

Beel actually makes a great effort to enunciate every word clearly, so he doesn't like speaking long sentences

"Would you like Salsa with that, sweetheart?" "... Yes," <- Beel has no fucking clue wtf salsa is but it tastes good so who is he to defy food gods (a nice Mexican grandma with a killer Pozole) whom have blessed him

I also think he would probably know some kind of sign language

Fingerspelling maybe, solely because it allows him to talk while having his mouth full or bcs his games are loud and he can't hear words very well

That and, like, the Devildom equivalent of sign language. DSL or something.

Look at him. Absolute sweetheart. He would absolutely want to include deaf or hard of hearing ppl.

★ Belphegor.

Ok so

I am going to be very fr with you

I believe Belphie would be the only monolingual (demon tongue "native") of the brothers

at most he would remember a few phrases of a few languages from back when he was an angel, but not any specifics

Like this dude has ZERO interest in human culture I cannot think he would sit down to (re)learn anything

he would fall asleep trying to learn human verbs actually

He only knows how to tell you to fuck off on 4 languages (/hj)

None which you speak. So that's kinda awkward

He doesn't know how to cast Loquar (nor has any interest in learning how)

Beel casts it for him if he needs it

He can and will deadass just remove the translator spell from you if you try to annoy/interact with him (except if Beel is who casts it on you).

(so Beel now also casts Loquar for you)

Begone >:(

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me hcs #caineshcs

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watsittoyah · 1 year ago

Text

Along Came A Spider…2099

Warnings-Sexual content, sex dreams, time travel, oral sex, rough sex, fang play, size kink, breeding kink and slight blood play. Some obsessive behavior..

(My Spanish isn’t great, so I did use google translate to help…)

Chapter 3- Tinted Windows…

Your eyes opened and you were stretching. When you look around your room you instantly feel a panic.

Was last night a dream?

It couldn’t have been right?

You throw the sheets off of the bed and your legs felt a bit wobbly. As you run to the door you stop as a very well built Miguel O’Hara stood there with breakfast for you.

“Buen día, mi amor. How did you sleep?” He asks as he looks down at you with a smile. It wasn’t a dream, he actually is here. “I slept like a baby. How about you?” He places your breakfast down and he cups your face between his hands.

“I slept great, at least until you started snoring.” You look at him mortified. “I don’t snore!” You move away from him but he pulls you back. “I’m only teasing you. You don’t snore. But speaking of things while you were sleep, your roommate wants to talk to you.”

Your eyes shoot right to the door. “Shit, shit, shit. I need my pants. Where are my pants?” You grab a pair of sweatpants and you roll those on, tossing your ripped shorts into the trash. “I’ll be right back.” You tell Miguel as you leave the room and close the door behind you.

In the living room your see your roommate, reading a magazine. “Good morning.” You say as you stand there. “Morning.” She says as she flips the page.

Ooh she’s in a mood.

“Erica I can explain-“ She raises a hand. “You know I woke up this morning and I smelled breakfast. I was thinking, T is out of her depression funk, good for her. But then I remembered that we didn’t go grocery shopping just yet. So I left my bedroom and I see a big back in our kitchen. And that big back didn’t belong to you-”

“I can expl-”

“Let me finish. This man spoke to me, he was polite. He made me a plate, he made Milo some food. And he cleaned up after himself. Shit I’m thinking about letting him move in with us. Now is that the man who had you in a mood for the past two weeks?” You just nod and she looks up at you.

“You better had forgave him, or so help me, T I will body slam you across this apartment. Because that’s a good man you got. Hell does he have a brother?” You feel a small smile on your face and shrug.

“I don’t know we were a bit too busy last night for me to ask.” Her eyes get big. “Was it good?” She whispers. “My legs are still wobbly but girl, it was more than good.”

“You lucky bitch.” You both laugh and she gets up and pulls you into a hug. “Go, we can have that walk later. I need to go visit my mom. And make sure you two keep that in your bed room. I don’t want to come home and I see ass and tiddies where Milo eats his snacks.” You suck your teeth at your roommate but smile.

“See you later E.” She waves over her shoulder and leaves the apartment. As you walk back into your room your see Miguel getting dressed. “Where are you going?” You ask in a panic.

“I have some important business to attend to, amor. Trust me if it wasn’t important I wouldn’t be leaving your side right now.” He kisses your lips several times before walking to your door. “Oh, okay. Well will you be back later?”

“No, I’m going to be busy for the next few days, but I will text and call you every chance I get.” You give a sad smile and Miguel pulls you into a hug. “Don’t give me that look. It’s already hard enough I have to leave a beautiful woman like you alone for a while. If it were up to me I’d kidnap you.” You laugh at that but in his eyes he looked serious.

“Go, you have business and I have a breakfast that my loving hus…” You stop your words right there.

Were you about to say loving husband?

“You enjoy your day, Miguel.” You smile at him and he stands there for a moment. “You too, Tommie.”

“Here let me walk you out.” As you two walk to the front door, Miguel turns to you and he lifts your chin up so you’re staring up at him. “When I’m all done, I want to take you to dinner. Would that be okay with you?”

“Yes, I’m sure it would….are you sure you can’t stay? It’s my day off and I’m going to be all alone in this apartment for a few hours.” Just then you hear a small meow and you both look to see Milo stretching out by the window. “Don’t tempt me. You hold down the fort, Milo. And I’ll call you, amor.” Miguel pins you against the wall and he kisses you passionately, leaving you feeling light headed. “Until we see each other again.” Miguel gives you one more peck and he leaves out the door. You close it behind him and you press your back against the door, sliding down it like some love sick puppy.

“Milo don’t look at me like that.” You say as Milo watches you from across the room…

•••

It’s been a few days and you haven’t heard from Miguel. “What’s wrong baby cakes?” Your grandmother asks as you help her in her garden. “Hmm? Nothing. The strawberries look good.”

“Those are cherry tomatoes. Now I know something is wrong. Look at me.” You try to avoid her eyes but you know you can’t. “What’s wrong?” You sigh and sit down in the dirt.

“There’s this guy, and well we haven’t been talking long but…it feels like I’ve known him for a long time. Anyways he said that he would keep in contact with me and I haven’t heard from him…in the past few days.”

Your grandmother gives you a side hug. “You like this boy?”

“I do, he…just seems so familiar to me. Am I being clingy?” You ask as she helps you up off of the ground. You clean off your butt and she shakes her head. “Baby cakes, that’s the thing about you young ones. Don’t even say you’re old you’re only thirty-three, that’s young. There is no such thing as clingy when it comes to someone you care about. Call him if you want to. Leave him a message and let him know he’s on your mind. Don’t neglect your feeling. Be honest. That is what your grandfather and I do. That’s what your father and mother use to do. Be honest.”

You nod at her advice and as you go to speak you hear the back door and your grandfather comes out with a tray of drinks.

“Boy it is hot out here. How would you ladies like to take a break and have some ice cold lemonade?” You accept the glasses and hand one to your grandmother.

“Charles, you didn’t make this too sweet did you? You know your sugar levels can’t handle that.”

“Barbra, just drink the lemonade and stop worrying about my sugar levels.” As your grandparents bicker, you smile at the two. They were the best parents that anyone could have asked for.

When your parents had passed when you were thirteen, you had moved in with them. Their relationship was the blueprint for you. And maybe one day you could have what they had.

“The garden looks wonderful, Barbra. Now can I take my granddaughter to the junk yard so we can build something?” Your grandmother kisses his cheek and pats his face. “Come back to me, Charles. And bring our baby back safe.” He smiles and nods. “I will. Now come on brains. I know where we can find a mini jet engine.”

You place your empty glass down and kiss your grandmother on her cheek. “I’ll keep him safe.” You and your grandfather gets to the front of the house and you get into his pick up truck.

“What do you want to built today, brains?” Your grandfather asks as he starts driving down the street. “I’m thinking maybe a gene splicer? Or another alarm clock.” You say as you look at your phone and see a message from Miguel.

Thinking about you, amor.

You smile and text back.

I’m thinking about you too…I miss you.

You press send before you regret it and hear your grandfather cough. “You okay?” You ask concerned. “I’m alright, I’m just gonna stop by the store and grab some cough drops.”

He turns down the road and stops by a mini bodega. “I got it.” You tell him as you get out of the truck.

You walk inside and go directly to where the cough drops were. As you look for the sugar free brand you feel someone watching you. You glance around and see no one except the cashier. But he was watching the tv.

You go back to looking and you find a brand with at least 3 grams of sugar in it. “Better than nothing I guess.” You mumble as you walk to the register. You grab a bottle of water on your way up and place them both on the counter.

The cashier looks over at you and straightens. “Hello there.” He says in a friendly tone. “Hello..” You balance on the balls of your feet as he rings you out and you catch him staring.

“I hope you found everything you needed today, and if so could I take you out for a coff…” You wonder why he stops talking and when you look at him he was staring past you in horror.

You look back only to see no one was there. “Okay, well you have a good day.” You give him exact change and you go back out to the truck.

“How much do I owe you?” Your grandfather asks. You shrug. “The cashier gave it to me cause I was cute. So it’s free.” You joke. “You’re as stubborn as your father, I swear. The man wouldn’t let me pay him back for anything.” You smile and as you two pull out of the parking lot you see a large man leaving the bodega.

That looks like, nah. It couldn’t be…could it?

••••

Your hands were filthy but it was worth it for all the parts you two had salvaged. “Make sure you don’t go building something illegal. I’d hate to have to put my granddaughter in jail for the reward money.” Your grandfather says as he helps you with your parts and puts them in the back.

“I was going to say it was you and get the reward money.” You both laugh and he pats your curly hair. “You know you remind me of CJ everyday. Down to the curly hair…” Your grandfather grows silent and he takes his handkerchief out and wipes his eyes.

“I miss dad too. Sometimes when I wake up in the morning I’ll look in the mirror and see his eyes.” You two stand in silence and from the corner of your eye you see movement. You try to strain your eyes but your grandfather clears his throat.

“I know you are your fathers daughter, but promise me you won’t go into that line of work.” Here we go again. “Grandpa I know you don’t want me working as a tech engineer but I know I have what it takes. Alchemax would pro-”

“Don’t you ever say that company’s name in my presence, brains. Not after what they did to this family. After what they did my your parents.” You suck in your bottom lip and nod. “Yes sir.”

As the two of you got in the car you sit in silence. “Can we stop for some ice cream? I’ll pay.” You tell him. “We can stop and I’ll be paying. I won’t have my granddaughter spoiling me. I’m suppose to spoil you. And maybe some great-grand children if you decide to have some.”

“Here we go. Grandpa I will have babies one day but not today or tomorrow.”

“I know, I just want you to have someone. Like I have your grandmother. I want you happy. Even if it’s with a gold fish.” Your grandfather drives and you look out the window. In the rear view mirror you see a black sleek sports car following the truck. The windows to the car were tinted black so you couldn’t see who it was behind the wheel.

You have light conversation with your grandfather and keep an eye on the car. So far it’s been following you for the past ten minutes.

“…I’ll be sure to stay over for dinner tonight.” You answer as he takes a left turn and sure enough the car takes a left turn as well.

Who is following us?

When your grandfather finally gets to the ice cream parlor, the car just drives past and you feel yourself finally relax.

Maybe it was just a coincidence?

You and your grandfather head inside of the ice cream parlor and were greeted by Mary-Anne. The owner of the parlor. “Hey guys, what can I get for you two today?”

“I’ll take the cherry cone with butter crunch cream.” You give your grandfather a look. “Mary-Anne he’ll have the vanilla sugar free cone.”

He huffs. “Back in my day a man could eat a honey bun and have a bottle of coke and no one would bat an eye.”

“Well I want my grandfather to see me in my wedding dress so no complaints. Alright I’ll have the toffee special, but in a waffle bowl.” Mary-Anne gets your orders ready and your grandfather pats his pockets.

“Drat, I left it-I’ll go get it. Don’t you dare pay.” He goes to leave but you stop him. “I’ll grab your wallet. It’s in your special spot right?” You go to open the door but the handle was moved away from you and you’re staring into a pair of pretty hazel eyes.

Before he could speak you push him back out. “Miguel, what are you doing?” You ask him in a hushed tone. “What do you mean? I was just in the neighborhood.” You blink serval times because clearly this man thinks you’re stupid.

“Miguel, don’t you lie to me, why have you been following me?” He goes to lie but you raise your brow at him. “Don’t you lie! That was you leaving the bodega. That was you in the junk yard. And that was you in the car following us. Before you say no, there are hundred of ice cream parlors in Nueva York. But this one, is special because I’ve been coming here since I was a little girl. That? That is too much of a coincidence. Now tell me the truth.” You tap your foot and cross your arms waiting for his answer. He sighs.

“I was only following you because I had happened to spot you while I was out. I was going to text you but I thought that was a bit creepy. I’m sorry mi corazón. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Miguel pulls you in as he moves your arms so he can embrace you.

You wish you could stay mad at him but you can’t help but melt from his touch. Your body missed him. “I missed you.” You tell him as you look up at him. “And I missed you too.” Miguel leans down to kiss you but you two jump apart when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

“Grandpa! I was just-”

“About to introduce me to your friend?” He asks as he eyes Miguel. Miguel goes to shake his hand. “Hello sir. My name is Miguel O’Hara, it’s so nice to meet you.” He shakes his hand back and you can tell he’s sizing him up.

“I wish I could say the same.”

“Grandpa!” You scold him. “Tell me what are your intentions with my granddaughter?” If you could have the ground open up and swallow you, you would.

“I want nothing more than to keep her safe, sir.” Your grandfather looks over at you. “Is this man someone who you like?” You feel put on the spot but you nod and feel your face warm up. “Yes.”

He huffs. “I already knew it. When I came out here the boys paws were all over your behind I thought I was going to get some grandkids tonight.”

Miguel tries to hide his laugh and you cover your face. “Grandpa I’m paying for your ice cream. I’ll even let you get the one you really want just go back inside please.” He purses his lips but goes back inside.

“I like him. He’s funny.” Miguel says as he stands there watching your grandfather. “He’s a real riot. So are you still handling your business?”

“Nope, I am officially done for the rest of the day.”

“Good, then I’m inviting you over for dinner at my grandparents.” Miguel looks a bit surprised. “So soon? Are you sure?” You lean in close. “Miguel we literally had sex and I know you have fangs.” You whisper to him.

“Right…right. Do you think your grandparents will like me? Should I bring something? Maybe I should go get a haircut.”

“Don’t you dare cut those locks of yours. You’ll be fine and you can bring my grandmother flowers. She has a garden so she’d love that. Now let me go back inside before this grumpy old man starts to tell me about condoms and other forms of birth control. And Miguel?”

“Sí amor?” You pat his cheek. “You’ll be fine. I’ll send your address. Dinner is at seven o clock sharp. Don’t be late.” You kiss his lips and walk back inside of the parlor. Your grandfather narrowing his eyes at Miguel.

“Grandpa stop that. He’s a nice guy. How much do I owe you, Mary-Anne?”

“He better be nice. He’s as big as a bear and he stares a little too hard at you. I don’t like it.”

“Mr. Valentine you should be open minded. My son, Maverick. He brought home a handsome boy the other day and I have to say he makes him happy. Tommie does your man friend make you happy?”

“Yes he does. And he is coming over for dinner tonight. Grandpa don’t even try to argue, or I’ll tell grandma about the ice cream.” He shuts his mouth as you pay and you two leave out of parlor.

You shoot Miguel a text and you cross your fingers hoping tonight goes perfect.

••••

Good thing you had a few cute clothes in your old bedroom.

You were freshly showered and you were trying to get your curls to listen. But they wanted to defy gravity and stick up. “Where is my butterfly clip?” You say as you search your dresser. You find the clip and secure it in your hair.

You then give yourself a nice look over. You were wearing a pretty flower dress that came down to your calf’s. A pair of yellow wedges and you had on a thin chain with your initials on it.

“Is this too much?” You ask as you turn and look at your plump butt in the mirror. “No, this is cute. And sexy at the same time.” You comment as you grab your phone and check the time.

Miguel had sent a text that he was outside and you ran out of your old room to go meet him. “No running.” Your grandmother calls out from the kitchen. “Sorry!” You call over your shoulder. Just before you open the door you take a calm breath and put a smile on your face.

When you open it you see Miguel standing there with two bouquets of flowers. “These Spider Lillie’s are for you, amor. And these baby breathe flowers are for your grandmother.” You smell the flowers and they smelled amazing. “Thank you, please come in. I’ll introduce you.” You lead him into the kitchen and there you look for a vase.

“Grandma, this is Miguel. Miguel this is my grandma.” Your grandmother wipes her hands dry on a dish towel and she opens her arms to him.

“Come here and let me look at you.” She touches his face and she then smiles at the both of you. “My you are handsome. Now I see why my granddaughter is taken by you.”

“Grandma, please.” You whine. Miguel smiles at her and she pats his chest. “Miguel I hope you like chicken stew with vegetables from my garden.”

“That sounds delicious, Señora. May I help you set the table?” She nods in approval and you show her the flowers Miguel had gotten you.

“Oh these will look so lovely in my garden, Miguel. Thank you.” She sniffs them and he looks over at you and mouths that he likes her. You mouth back what’s not to like?

After the table is set and the food is out, the four of you sit down and get ready to eat. You help serve Miguel and he pours you a drink. Your grandparents watches you two and feel a smile on your face as Miguel’s hand finds yours under the table.

“So Miguel, what do you do for work?” Your grandmother asks as she passes a roll to your grandfather. “I am a scientist. I work in the field that involves evolution to mammals as well as insects.”

“Ah, you're a brain just like Tommie here. I’m happy, the bloodline has hope yet.” You see your grandmother shoot a glare at your grandfather and then she smiles at Miguel.

“I apologize for my husband, his sugar is just low. Anyways, how did you and Tommie meet?” You go to speak but Miguel talks.

“It’s actually quite embarrassing. I had moved into the building about four months ago and I had first saw your granddaughter when I was bringing boxes to my apartment. I have to say I was smitten the very moment I seen her. But I was too shy to approach her first so I just stood back and waited for the perfect opportunity. So it was in the parking lot, she had dropped her water bottle and it was really flying down the walk way so I picked it up and from that very moment, we’ve been talking ever since.” Miguel says as he rubs your knuckles with his thumb.

“Oh my goodness look at you two. So cute, you know it’s as if you two have been together for years. Doesn’t it seem like that, Charles?”

“Mhm, yeah.” Your grandfather says as he eats another forkful. You eat your food and feel that dinner was going to be perfect for sure.

After a plate and a half, some dessert and coffee, it was time to go home.

“Are you two sure you had enough?” Your grandmother asks as she sees you two out. “Grandma, if we have anymore food, we will have to be rolled back to the apartment.” You says as you give her a hug and a kiss.

“Dinner was amazing, Miss Barbra. Next time I come over I’ll have to share my abuela’s cookies recipe with you.” He gives her a hug as well and she rubs his back. “You two don’t be a stranger, and Tommie make sure you call me when you two get home.”

“I will!” Miguel leads you to his car and he opens the door for you. After he makes sure you’re inside safely he closes it and walks around. You open the door and he slides in. “I like your grandparents. They’re sweet.”

“They are. And even though my grandpa was acting grumpy he likes you. Did you see his face light up when you mentioned that you liked football. I think he’s going to take you away from me.”

“Nah, he’s not my type. I like pretty women named Tommie Valentine.” Miguel starts up his car and he drives out of the driveway. As he drives you sit there in silence for a while.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks as he holds your hand. You sigh. “I was just thinking how much I don’t know about you. Like was what you said about meeting me true?”

“Of course. I seen you wearing this pretty pink dress and you were talking to Erica about watching a robotics documentary. Your hair was out and you looked happy. I wanted to talk to you but well you know.” You look at his profile and study it.

“I’m still sad you didn’t come up to me sooner. I would’ve liked to have known I had a secret admirer.”

“Well, mi princesa. The whole thing about a secret admirer is that it is a secret. And besides I’m sure I would’ve startled you with my demeanor.” He says as he glances at you.

“I guess, you are a bit intimidating. But I still don’t know much about you. Like do you have a brother? Are your parents still around? Where do you work? Why do you have fangs?” He laughs out loud and kisses your knuckles.

“Alguien tiene muchas preguntas. So many questions. Well I have a half brother named Gabriel. It’s a bit of a touchy subject with my parents but they are still around. I work at Columbia Tech. And about the fangs that’s going to have to wait until later, only because it’s a lot to explain.”

You pout at the last answer. “Okay, I guess but when you finally tell me I’m going to have notes ready.” He chuckles at your answer and shakes his head. “I know you will. Is there anything else you want to know?”

“Have you saved any people?” That question causes him to freeze and he looks at you as he stops at the stop sign. “What did you say?”

“Have you saved any people? I know being a scientist can bring on new discoveries to help further modern medicine. If that’s a touchy subject for you I can-”

He interrupts you by kissing you. Which’s causes the wind to be sucked out of your lungs. When he moves back his eyes were gentle and you can tell he wants to say something but instead he continues driving.

You sit back in your seat and you soon hear rain hit his windshield. “I’m going to sleep like a baby tonight. This rain is going to be so good. Maybe I’ll sleep with my window open.” You say as you look out the window.

“Is that so?” Miguel asks as he lets go of your hand and squeezes your upper thigh under your dress. He gets to the inside parking lot and you watch as his hand squeezes again. “Yes. Should I not sleep with my window open?”

You watch a smirk crawl across his lips. “I’m not saying no, but if you’re not careful you might let the boogeyman in that way.” Miguel backs into a parking spot and that move right there made a moan escape your lips. “Did you say something, amor?”

“No! Nope! I didn’t. But I’m a big girl, Mr. O’Hara. I don’t believe in the boogeyman.” You say as you move your hips a little so he can go further up your dress. “Oh that’s a shame. Because if you did believe in him, I’d have to come over and check to make sure he doesn’t come into your room tonight.” Miguel says as he moves his hand and runs this thumb across your bottom lip.

“Well I know the boogeyman won’t be coming into my room. But I know who I want to come.” You say as you hold his hand still and suck his middle and ring finger. Miguel’s eyes instantly turn ruby red and he presses a button to make his seat lean back.

“My my, you are a big girl. Well why don’t you show me what else big girls can do, espléndida.” You lick his fingers and bring his hand under your dress and under your panties.

He slides his wet fingers inside of you and you grip his wrist as you moan. “Miguel…” You moan out, knowing no one can hear you over the rain.

“Your pretty little pussy is sucking in my fingers so well. I wonder how many more fingers you can take.” He whispers against your ear as he uses his palm to rub your clit. You feel him insert another finger and you lean your head back, letting your throat be exposed to him. He licks and sucks your neck as he does a come here motion inside of you.

“Oh god…” You groan out as you move your hips. “You feel that? Your greedy little pussy keeps squeezing around my fingers. But I have something else it can squeeze.” He takes your hand and places it over his crotch and you moan because you want to taste him.

You move him back and you unzip his pants. “Can I?” You ask as you look at him and moan. “It’s all yours, amor. Do whatever you want to me.” He leans back and you lean over the seat as you pull his dick out and suck him. He continues to rub your pussy as you suck the head. You choke a little which turns you on because he throbs in your mouth.

“This mouth, this fucking mouth is heaven. Fuck.” Miguel moans as he grips the back of your neck. He slowly fucks your mouth as he rubs you and your eyes roll back as you moan and gag. “Fuck, don’t stop. Just keep sucking. You don’t need air right? No you don’t. You don’t need air. Seré tu aire.” You feel tears running down your face but you feel yourself getting extremely wet.

You wanted this man to fuck your throat, till he came. He bucked up faster hitting the back of your throat and your legs started to clench as you were close to coming on his seat. His head falls back as he groans that he’s coming. You tighten your throat and in just that simple movement Miguel’s whole body went still and he let out a whimpering groan as he came down your throat. You swallow deeply and you shiver as you come soon after.

The both of you were breathing heavy when you had leaned back. Miguel was staring at you, his eyes were roaming your body. You were staring at him. Already taking off your panties and climbing over the seat, straddling him.

You guide him inside of you and you both let out a moan as he stretches you out. As the base meets your pelvis you still and Miguel placed his hands on your ass and he grips you tight.

“Rock your hips for me. I’m going to show you how I like to be ridden.” You start to move your hips but Miguel guides you and he bites his lip drawing blood from his fangs.

You lean over and flick your tongue against his blooded lip and he captures your lips with his. He kisses you and slaps your ass causing you to rock your hips harder. “Just like that. Princesa, fuck me. Fuck me just like that. You’re to good. Eres tan buena conmigo. Just like that. Keep that up and I’ll get you pregnant.”

You tighten around him and you fuck him harder as you rock your hips. “You like that? The thought of me fucking coming inside of you? Oh Princesa, I’ll fuck the come inside of you. Come here.” He grabs a hold of you and you feel him scrape his fangs against your shoulder as he fucks up deeper inside of you. You let out a strangled moan and you bite into his shoulder instead.

He groans out your name and moans out he’s coming. Your body shakes with climax and you both come hard, causing a mess on his driver seat. You rest your hand on his window and he rests his head against your chest.

You look down at him and he looks up at you. “Aren’t you glad I have tinted windows?” He says causing the two of you to laugh. He gently pats your butt as you slide off of him. You wince and you fix your dress.

“Sorry about your seats.” You say feeling embarrassed. “Don’t be sorry, I was going to get my car detailed anyway. And Tommie?”

“Hmm?” You ask feeling very lust drunk. “Anything you want to ask, just ask me. I would never hide anything from you.” He then leans over and gives a peck to your lips. “Mmm, thank you, Miguel.”

“No need for a thanks. I just want to be honest with you…Oh! Make sure you tell your grandmother you’re home.”

You pick up your phone and text her then put the phone back in your bag. “Do you want to come inside and spend the night?” You ask hoping he’ll say yes. “Y…I can’t. I have something to do. But I can walk you inside.” You frown at that.

Because for some reason you feel as if Miguel is hiding more than why he has fangs.

The more you get to know him the less you actually know who Miguel O’Hara really is…

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