#but to me is only good if they are half hispanic like you *have* to put asian in the mix

[fanficmaniatic]

Ninjago Last names are so funny to me, like I know we are doing the best we can we what we've got but like...

Take Kai for example, Japanese name, pretty sure is just the word for either Red or Fire. His last name? Well the fandom decided it was "Smith" an English last name for our character that grew up in feudal japan inspired village. To top this, he has spoken Spanish twice, so the common head cannon is that they are at least half Hispanic of some sort. The fandom looks at this and is like "Yeah but we could look more into the village he grew up in for our ethnicity head cannons, a name change is needed" so y'all pick "Jiang" a Chinese last name....

Dear creators, give last names to your characters please, don't make us go through this.

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Childs play (Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader [ex-Childhood best friend turned Fwb AU]) Part 1

Hiiiii! I’m so freaking excited for y’all to read this I’m literally shaking! This will only be 1 part. (Edit: I’ve changed my mind it will get a second part but it won’t be put right away) Shout out to @chickenshit03 for beta reading the one shot. Absolute sweetheart 🫶🏼. Not proofread, enjoy!!

(Y/N)-Your name.

NSFW!! SMUT!! MDNI!! Cursing, light choking during the deed , protecting PinV, Miguel being a big meanie near the end, Comfort/Hurt, lmk if I can’t think of anymore

Word count: 4.6k

Part 2

Masterlist

—

Knock knock…

“Hello, I’m sorry if I’m intruding but I wanted to introduce myself, me and my family just moved in next door and I wanted to introduce ourselves.” Your mother said as she stood at her neighbors door, you hid timidly behind her leg as she spoke to a Hispanic woman with curly dark hair. Your eyes wandered around her living room, or at least as much as you could catch from your spot. Not paying any mind to the conversation they were having when your eyes spotted a young boy around your age, about five or so walking past with a few legos in hand.

Your shyness was quickly overtaken with curiosity as you went to pull on your mother’s hand, she must have been watching you stare at the brunette, because before you could even turn up to ask her if you could go play, she was already shooing you in the direction of him as her and the other lady went to go talk over coffee in the kitchen.

He didn’t glance up at you as you sat down in front of his spot on the living room floor, being too preoccupied on the Star Wars set he was working on.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“My name’s (Y/N).”

“Cool.”

“What’s your name?”

“Miguel.”

You paused, shifting to sit down better before speaking again.

“Can I help? I love legos.”

He stayed quiet, and for a second you think he’ll say no, until he shrugged and moved the instruction book so you both could read it, making your lips come up in a smile.

“Sure.”

—

“You can teach me to play street fighter a million times and I will never understand it.” You huffed as you dropped the controller on your lap and leaned back on the couch, the tv in his living room sounded out a “finish her” as Miguel’s character killed yours, you couldn’t even be bothered to remember the names, peeved off that’d he beat you for the upteenth time, him not even having the courtesy to let you win one round.

“I’m not gonna be sorry for you being bad.” He retorted in a teasing tone, sticking out his tongue at you, and blew a raspberry. Your arms quickly crossover your chest as you puff your cheeks out with a pout.

“You’re so mean to me Miguel, I hate you.” You mumbled the half-lie to the other ten year old, looking away as you felt your cheeks heat with embarrassment, you didn’t even notice his movements until you felt him grab for your hand, turning your head to realize he was now standing in front of your spot on the couch.

“You don’t hate me, I’m your best friend.” He states, making you nod your head in confirmation after a beat, “Good. Because you’re my best friend too.” You smiled.

“Can we play something else then?”

“Nope.”

“Ughhh.”

—

“(Y/N), it’s your turn to spin the bottle.” Mj’s voice snapped you out of your head, suddenly aware of all the other fourteen years olds turning to stare at you. Was it a bit embarrassing you were about to lose your first kiss in a game of spin the bottle?

Half-dried nail-polished fingers gently grabbed the base of the empty Coke bottle, praying to god no one saw the way your hand trembled slightly, as you gave it a good twist. As your eyes tracked the blur of clear glass, you got your lower lip, silently hoping it was someone who you wouldn’t fluster up in embarrassment when you had to tell them who was your first kiss in the four walls of the lunch room. Like Kyle, or Ben or-

“Oooo- you got Miguel!” One of the other girls giggled as your eyes shot up to where the tip was pointing and surely, there he sat in front of you. Miguel was good…yeah, great even! You trusted him, he was your best friend since you were practically in dippers…So with a fine silent look of confirmation, you crossed the circle, closing your eyes as your lips connected for the first time.

Is it normal for your heart to skip a beat during a kiss? God how red is my face right now? Have I been holding it for too long? I wonder if he’s enjoying it, he hasn’t pulled away so that’s a good sign right? I should probably stop now. It's been like four seconds.

You finally pull away, sitting down on your knees as you bring a hand up to wipe some excess saliva away from the cover of your mouth. The sound of the next person going to spin the bottle muffles out around you as you focus on the weird flutter in your stomach.

—

“SLOW DOWN MIG-YOU’RE DRIVING LIKE A MANIAC!” You yelled as your left hand flew to grab at your seat belt, right hand gripping the overhead handle so hard your knuckles were turning white, pushing yourself as much as you could into the passenger seat at you could while he just let out an eye roll and chuckle as you were being dramatic (you weren’t).

“I’m not taking driving advice from someone who doesn’t have their license yet.”

“You got your license yesterday! I don’t turn sixteen for another four months!”

“Don’t care, you could ever shut up or take the bus.”

You couldn’t respond right away because another scream came from your throat as he turned a corner.

“If I die in this stupid car, I’m going to haunt the shit out of you O’Hara!”

“I’m not gonna let you die, stop being dramatic.” He scoffed, finally pulling up to the school parking lot, finally slowing down as he looked for a place to park. His arm comes around the back of your car seat as he goes to backwards park in an empty spot. “See I didn’t let you die.”

“I’m actually traumatized…” You muttered, eyes still wide as you kept still in your seat. Miguel let out a huff and he goes to take your seatbelt off once the car was shut off.

“If I buy you some subway during lunch will you stop complaining?”

“…yes.”

—

“Maybe I could just take a gap year-or-or go to the community college nearby, just until I can transfer, then I can try for Columbia again?” You kept fumbling your words, looking at the rejection letter in your hands. If you tried to focus on it enough, you’d be able to hear the paper shaking lightly in your hands. Glossy eyes trying to rapidly blink away tears before they fell on the paper. Miguel quickly shook his head as he placed his coffee cup down on the table of the cafe you two would frequent.

“No. Not happening, I’ll just reject my application and we can go to Stanford together in California.” He told you, making you copy his actions as you placed the paper down next to your other University letters.

“Are you crazy? That’s your dream school! I am not letting you do that for me. I’d never forgive myself for that.” You admitted, looking at him in those familiar brown eyes, praying to god yours weren’t growing bloodshot from the emotional moment between you both. Miguel letting out a heavy sigh, his hand going to run through his pushed back brown locks as he looked down at his letters again. The silence that grew over you two was almost suffocating, a thing it never felt like around him. It made your heart ache, trying to keep back a whine and some tears as you closed your eyes and took in a shaky breath before opening them again and finally breaking the silence between you both. “I mean…FaceTime is a thing right?” Miguel raised a brow at your sentence, before it clicked in his mind what you were implying. Quickly shaking his head, his hand coming up to stop you.

“No. No. I can’t even go a week without seeing you, I’ve lived next door to you for thirteen years and you expect me to be okay with us being two thousand miles away from each other!?” You glanced around you when Miguel raised his voice slightly, luckily other than you and the owner the place was practically barren.

“Mig, we’ll figure it out! We’ll call and text, FaceTime, and I’ll come back for breaks! And besides, you don’t strike me as a type to enjoy California.” You attempted to lighten the mood, thankfully being met with an amused grunt and his lip twitching up slightly.

“Fine… just, promise we aren’t going to end up like all those friends who stop talking because we’re going to separate college’s alright?”

Your smile grew. “I promise.”

—

Ring…

Ring…

Rin- “Hey it’s Miguel,” your ears perked up, quickly scrambling up from your position on your bunk bed, where you were laying on your stomach, “I can’t come to the phone right now, leave me a message.” Beep.

“Hey Miguel… just wanted to see how you were, I finished my exams for the semester, and I’m going back to Neuva York tomorrow. I wanted to see if you’d want to hang out during the break, let me know… bye…” You mumbled before you hung up the call, tossing your phone on the other side of your bed. Running your hands through your head, letting out a heavy sigh. Closing your eyes to keep any forming tears of frustration from spilling out.

You and Miguel weren’t as close as you’d like to be anymore. How did a few months apart completely unwind the tight knit threat that had kept you both close for years? It had started out well, you did good at keeping your side of the promise and he did as well. Texting every hour, FaceTiming him every weekend, calling every night while you both studied, it almost felt like nothing had changed.

Then, classes became harder, you’d both start to develop new friends, new routines. The text became less frequent, now lagging to every few days, FaceTime sessions were now non-existent and your daily calls now became monthly, never lasting more than half an hour. You hated how you two were growing apart, and it hurt to see that Miguel didn’t seem to care. You didn’t have to see him in person to notice his new friend group was starting to change his personality. He was starting to seem more stoic, dry, it almost seemed like he was constantly agitated or something of the sort when you finally would get a hold of him. Still… despite the gradual change he seemed to be going through you still had hope that deep down he was still the same old Miguel you had grown to love and cherish. And that spark of hope only grew when you heard the faint buzz of your phone from the foot of your bed, quickly grabbing it to read a new message.

Text me when you get in tomorrow.

—

This was not what you had in mind.

Somehow Miguel had convinced you to go to some random bar that didn’t ID with him and his college buddies. “I’ll be fun” he said, “you’ll love them” he said. Now here you were forced to listen to some snobby trust fund kid bitch and moan about how he had to inherit his father’s company and blah blah blah. You weren’t even paying attention anyways, his words were going into one ear and flying out the other, opting to sip on your mixed drink to help keep you from banging your head into the bar counter. Tonight had simply e been the worst. Not to mention Miguel had been acting… different.

Maybe he just wasn’t good with distance, but it still struck you as odd how the second you were both finally in close proximity it was almost as if nothing had happened, like your friendship with each other wasnt badly strained for weeks on end. It didn’t stop there though, no no no. Because now that you were with him in front of his new friends and all dolled up he had been more… touchy, and not in a way he had been before.

A hand on your thigh, an arm around your waist, a finger idly twisting and twirling your hair. It was so… intimate… like he wanted them to think there was something there that was more than just a childhood friend. You couldn’t say that you hated it, it was just unexpected.

“Hey… let’s get out of here?” Miguel’s whisper snapped you out from your thoughts. The way his voice murmured lowly against your shoulder as he all but rubbed against it like a cat making your cheeks flare up and a shiver ran down your back. Quickly ignoring the feeling of the spike in your heart rate and the wetness growing in your panties, nodding as you go to stand up, not wanting to be in the over cramped bar any longer and just waiting to head back to Miguel’s place since you were staying there for a week. Feeling like your knees were going to give out from underneath you when he slid his large hand from between your shoulder blades and upwards to squeeze your right shoulder.

Not sure if your hazy mind was from the alcohol or from his actions anymore. Not sure if things would go back to how they were before you’d left when he went to leave sloppy wet kisses on your neck as soon as his apartment door was closed and locked. Not sure if you could look at him the same way after he made you see stars from the comfort of his sheets. Still you couldn’t stop. It felt too good, he felt too good.

“Fuck- felt so fucking good…” He hissed as he pulled out from between your legs, taking a moment to let himself to catch his breath before rolling the condom off and tossing it in the trash can. You didn’t respond, still out of it from the aftermath of experiencing nirvana in the form of drunk sex. Letting out a sigh as you turned to your side and closed your eyes as drowsiness starts to seep into your bones. Feeling the other side of the bed dip before a strong arm came around to hug your waist.

“…Miguel?”

“Yeah?”

“This… was a one time thing right?”

A pause, a heavy sigh before you felt his soft lips kiss the nape of your neck.

“… of course.”

—

A flash of light shined through the darkness of your studio apartment. You didn’t even need to check the notification screen in order to know who it was. Only one person would text you at two in the morning.

Come over?

If you told your high school self that the only time you ever saw Miguel was in the deeps of night while you were tangled in his sheets, she would have thought you were lying. The most fucked up part was that it was starting to affect you mentally, how your best friend had turned into a booty call because of one night from a drunk fuck seven years ago, it was painfully obvious you’d never get to the point where you’d be able to go back to the way you both once were. You couldn’t help but cling to the last broken bits he was willing to give you though. So every time he calls or texts you at random hours of the night since you’ve moved back to Nueva York, you’d show up at his doorstep like you are now.

“I know it’s late, I'm sorry, these Master exams are kicking my ass.” He apologized while letting you in after a few seconds. Closing and locking the front door before gently pushing you against it, his lips already finding their usual spot against the crook of your neck. Calloused hands began to slip underneath the baggy material of your hoodie, his large fingers gently grazing the exposed skin, you’ve learned to stop wearing shirts to these sessions a long time ago. “Need to blow off some steam…”

“Miguel…”The way you’d breathe out his name always made him feel like he had died and gone to heaven, your hands wandering upwards against the black fabric of his tank top. His lips separated from the blossoming red and purple mark they left in their wake so he can pull your jacket off before stripping off his own shirt. Your arms quickly wrap around his neck, any guilt that had been lingering in your mind quickly melted away when his hands ran down to your hips underneath your waistband, thumb fidgeting with the thin fabric of your panties. “Need you-“

“Need you too Cariño.” He muttered before going to place a gentle peck against the edge of your lips, you couldn’t help but let out a small whimper at the movement. You’ve noticed he never kisses you directly on your lips, always on the edge, on your neck or cheek. You would have felt your heart ache if the feeling of your core throbbing when his hand dragged your bottoms down to squeeze your ass wasn’t more overwhelming, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Half of the time you two didn’t even make it to the bedroom, finding a spot on the hallway wall or against the kitchen counter. This was one of those times, he stumbled over to the couch, too distracted on leaving hickies all over your chest and dipping his fingers into your wet cunt. You let out a gasp when you landed on the brown leather rather harshly, making the couch move a few inches from its original spot due to the weight of both of your bodies hastily climbing on top of it. He made quick work to strip the rest of your clothes from both of your bodies once he made sure you hadn’t accidentally hit your head. Quickly slipping a condom before lining himself up.

“Fuuuuck-fuck…” He groaned, as he pushed the tip of his cock between your folds. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream from the deliciously painful stretch that he always provides. Giving you a second to adjust to his length and girth before pulling out and slamming his hips against yours, each thrust making your silent whimpers and whines turn into pornographic moans and incoherent babblings. “Love filling you up. You love this cock don’t you?” He taunts, it was so cruel the way the words fell from his mouth but you loved it nonetheless. Nodding rapidly as you gushed around him for the first time tonight.

“Nah uh… need to heard you say it. Use your words.” He smirks, enjoying the plop plop sound that started to quietly reverberate off the walls of his living room. Glancing down momentarily to watch a thin layer of cum that was forming a ring around the base of his cock. “Tell me how much you love it.” He urged.

“Fuck-fuck… love it so much.” You moaned, overstimulated from your orgasm, squirming underneath him just the way he liked. He couldn’t help the way his ego swells at the way you feel apart for him.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you.” He cooed as he propped your leg over his shoulder to get a better angle, his sweet words always messed with your foggy mind. “Such a sweet little thing, all for me.”

“Don’t-don’t say that Mig.” You whined, head turning to the side, as your hand dropped from his chest to drop off the couch. His right hand quickly leaves your hip and runs up to your neck, keeping his grip light as he props your head back to face him with his index finger.

“Aww poor baby, can’t handle when I talk all sweet to her, huh?” He let out an airy half chuckle. Despite the honey-like toned he’d use, the underlying taunt was always present. “Let me make it up to you baby.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he thrust deeper into your core, making your hips subconsciously jump up to meet his.

“Mig-Miguel, I’m so-so close.” You whimpered and whined, clenching around his length, his hips stuttering slightly as you felt the heat building in your lower belly start to grow with each thrust.

“Cum with me baby… Cum all over this cock.” He groaned.

“Fuck-Fuck.” With one final thrust, you finally came undone around him, his name falling from your lips over and over like a mantra. Miguel followed suit, stopping his thrust while fully inside your cunt, letting out a deep groan as he came.

“Shit… You okay?” He asked once he was able to collect himself enough, climbing off top of you before rolling the used condom off his softing member, picking up his forgotten boxers and placing them back on.

“Mhm…” You nodded, trying to stabilize yourself on shaky arms and legs. Miguel seemed to have noticed, picking up your clothes from the floor and making his way over to hand them to you.

“Let me get you some water.” He said before retreating to his kitchen. The only sound in the air now was the faint noises of him rustling around his cabinets, and the quiet shuffling of clothes. Hating the feeling of putting your legging and hoodie back on due to the thin layer of sweat still on your skin. Once you were decent enough Miguel came back with a glass of water and handed it to you. Mumbling a “thank you” before taking a sip. Miguel cleared his throat as he sat down on the other edge of the couch, eyes cast down, hands rubbing anxiously together, finally deciding to break the steadily growing awkward silence. “Look, (Y/N), I wanted to talk to you about something… something kinda important.”

You raised a brow, noticing the sudden change in his behavior, taking another quick sip before placing the half empty glass on his coffee table. “What’s up?”

He released a heavy sigh as he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, still not making eye contact as he continued. “I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just put it out there…” He finally brought his gaze up to meet yours, “We need to stop seeing each other.”

Huh?

“I’m sorry what?” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop, your face quickly filling up with confusion and a bit of disbelief as you stood up. Miguel follows your actions as he puts his hands up in defense, but you continue before he could try explaining. “You can’t just fuck me on your couch then tell me afterwards we need to stop. You know how much of an asshole you sound?”

“I know, I know it makes me sound like an asshole.” He tried to reason with you, going to finally put on his shorts and tank top that were still on the floor. Not feeling like being half-naked during this conversation. “Look, there’s this girl I’ve been seeing and it’s getting pretty serious-“

“A girl you’ve been seeing?” You repeated in disbelief. “You can’t be for real.”

“Well, we never agreed to be exclusive. It’s not like we were going to start dating or anything.”

Ouch.

You had to turn away so they didn’t see the tears building in the corner of your eyes, but even with your face hidden your body language gave you away.

“I know we weren’t exclusive but fuck Miguel.” You shake your head, going to make your way to the door. “I’ve known you since we were five and you’re just gonna throw me away like some old toy?!”

“Hey-no. That’s not-that’s not what I mean, you know that.” He takes a step forward, grabbing your arm before you could get too far. “We can’t sleep together anymore, but we can still be friends.” You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips, finally gathering yourself enough to pull your arm away and face him again, not caring if he saw the tears cascading down your cheeks. He’s made you cry one too many times, it’s about time he saw what he did to you. “We can still be friends! You’re still my best friend (Y/N)!” He couldn’t help but let his voice come out in more of a panic, a bit more rushed. You quickly shook your head.

“No. No, we aren’t best friends anymore Miguel, we haven’t been in a long, long time. I know that, you know that. So don’t pretend like we are just because your afraid of losing your emotional support fuck buddy.” You finally head toward the door and towards your car in the driveway, not turning to face him as you hear him call your name. “Don’t call me, don’t text me. If you're as serious about this girl as you say you are, you’d do the right thing and block me. Because I’m so tired of waiting around and pretending like one day you’ll wake up and realize I’m in love with you.”

You froze once the words came out, hand still on the car door handle as you came to the realization you finally admitted the secret you’ve been holding for the past ten years. Your free hand going to cover your mouth as you finally turn to look at Miguel, the look of shock from the confession was evident. You shook your head as you attempted to back track.

“Wait, Miguel I didn’t mean to tell you that-it just happened-“

“… You should leave.” His voice suddenly became stoic, his face hardening so it was hard to read his emotions. “This is just helping my case. Leave.” The tears flowed harder down your face as he slammed the front door shut. Leaving you to sob into the emptiness of the night as you finally let all the pain from the last seven years catch up to you.

You weren’t surprised to see your text bubbles turn green the next morning.

—

“I really think this one is it.”

“Me too!”

“He’ll love you in that dress.”

“Aww I can already see the waterworks.”

All you could do was smile, your hands repeatedly smooth non-existent wrinkles as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you looked like a real life princess. After what felt like hours you finally found the wedding dress. You couldn’t be happier.

“Alright Miss future Osborn.” Your maid of honor squealed, finally getting your attention, “You need to get out of that dress, you need to meet up Harry to look over the venue.”

You sighed, as you turned back to admire the white wedding dress one more time. “You’re right, I don’t wanna keep him waiting just cause I can’t stop staring at myself.” You giggled, before heaving to the back.

You and Harry have been dating for four years now, and he had proposed last month during your anniversary. You couldn’t be happier, he treats you like a queen, better than any other Man you’ve ever been in romantic contact with.

Once you had finally finished changing out of your regular clothes, you grabbed your phone out of your purse. Sending a quick text telling him that you found a dress, before doing a quick check on insta, wanting to look at the engagement pictures you posted on your page last week. But the soft smile on your face quickly dropped, like your heart did to your stomach when you checked your activity page.

Miguel.Ohara.99 and 4 others liked your post.

Miguel.Ohara.99 started following you.

1 message request from Miguel.Ohara.99

Fuck.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @scaryplanetdestroyer @miguels-aranita @beezusvreeland @raginghomo62 @miguelbaby @thedevax @vera4luv @alialucille

[adrienneleclerc]

Can You Be My Boyfriend?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N is Ferrari’s social media manager and when one of the mechanics doesn’t take no for an answer, she pretends she’s dating a certain Ferrari driver.

Warning: grammatical and spelling errors cuz I don’t proofread

A/N: i just wanted to say thank you so much for the love y’all gave “Prince of Ferrari”, it means a lot to me as a new Charles Leclerc writer. I hope y’all like this one too, just like Olivia Rodrigo, I am so American,

Y/N walked into Fred’s office.

“Mr. Vasseur, I had an idea for a new C2 challenge.” Y/N said.

“What did you have in mind, Y/N?” Fred asked.

“I was thinking we make dishes from each place we go to. Like Cuban food from Miami, Texas barbecue ribs, paella from Spain, and we have Charles and Carlos match the dishes to their flag. I personally think it would be fun, you know? Or we could do a video where the drivers tell us from which Grand Prix the photo was taken.” Y/N suggested.

“Those are very good ideas, Y/N, see if the boys are up to it, will you? Figure out when the best time is to film that.” Fred said.

“Yes, will do.” Y/N said and left his office. She walked to the living room (does the hospitality have a living room? I don’t know) to see Carlos and Charles chatting to away.

“There she is! Como has estado, hermosa?” Carlos asked Y/N, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek.

“Ha estado súper bien, un poquito cansada, pero nada que no se puede arreglar con un café.” Y/N said, her and Carlos laughed.

“I understand half of that.” Charles said.

“Now you know how I feel when you speak French.” Y/N said. “Anyway, as your social media manager, I had an idea for an upcoming challenge, we have to make the most of this season.” Y/N said.

“We hear you, mon ange, what’s the idea?” Charles asked.

“Can you guys guess what Grand Prix this is based off the picture?” Y/N asked, showing them a picture on her phone.

“That’s when I won in Monza.” Charles answered.

“Good, this is your challenge, guessing Grand Prixs based off a photo.” Y/N said putting her phone away. “It’s not much, but it’s different from what you guys have done in the past. You could also match dishes to their countries.” Y/N said.

“Sounds like a fun challenge.” Carlos said.

“Good to hear. I’m gonna be with the photographer, he’s taking photos of the new livery and I need to approve them before I post them on Instagram. See ya later, okay?” Y/N said, stepping into the garage where she sees the photographer looking over the photos on his camera.

“Y/N! You’re here, tell me what you think, and be brutally honest. Do you think they came out to blurry?” The photographer, Daniel, asked. Y/N started looking them over.

“They look great, honestly, it matches Ferrari’s instagram feed, you did a good job. Can you upload them to the computer?” Y/N asked and Daniel said that he could. He left Y/N alone on the garage and that’s when one of the mechanics, Ruggero, approached her.

“Sei bellissima, a more mío.” Ruggero told her. Y/N rolled her eyes,

“Grazie, Rugge, what do you want?” Y/N asked.

“You are very hostile towards me, you know? I might be able to forgive you if you go out with me.” Ruggero said.

“Not gonna happen, Rugge, aren’t you tired of getting rejected?” Y/N asked.

“I bounce back. Come on, amore, why won’t you let me take you out? You think you’re too good for me?” Ruggero asked.

“What are you talking about? Oh my god, I don’t think I’m too good for you, where the hell did you get that from?” Y/N asked, so confused at the turn this conversation took.

“Well that’s the only thing I could think of, you come from the states, you clearly think you’re better than Europeans.” Ruggero said and Y/N had enough of this nonsense.

“I have a boyfriend! Que pesado eres, me cae.” Y/N said.

“Really, who’s the boyfriend?” Ruggero asked. Y/N saw Charles walking into the garage.

“Muñeco, there you are!” Y/N said loudly, walking up to Charles and kissed him. Charles widened his eyes in shock but kissed her back and they both pulled away, Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his chest and Charles rubbed her back.

“Congratulations, does Fred know?” Ruggero asked.

“It’s private right now, we’re just seeing how this goes.” Y/N replied and as soon as Ruggero left, Y/N pulled away from Charles. “I am so sorry! Ruggero wouldn’t leave me alone so I had to tell him I had a boyfriend and honestly whoever walked through that door was going to be the victim of my lie but I am glad it’s you and not Carlos, mainly because Ruggero knows Rebecca is dating him.” Y/N explained quickly but Charles was still distracted, thinking about the kiss Y/N gave him.

“I’m sorry, what?” Charles asked.

“Can you be my boyfriend?” Y/N asked.

“I Don’t think we could pull this off, Y/N. We work together.” Charles said.

“We would only have to pretend we’re dating around Ruggero, no one else has to know, I promise.” Y/N said.

“Okay fine.” Charles said, him and Y/N were walking back to the main area (I don’t know how this works) and Carlos was standing next to Fred and Ruggero with a smile.

“Congratulations, cabrón,” Carlos told charles, hugging him. “You two are adorable.” Charles turned to look at Y/N with a look that said ‘no one will know, yeah right’

“I didn’t know you two were dating.” Fred commented.

“It’s still new.” Charles replied, putting his arm around Y/N.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with the social media posts, it should be fine.” Fred said before walking away. Ruggero smiled before going back to the garage.

“Now I know why you always called her ‘mon ange’, que coqueto saliste, eh charles.” Carlos said, leaving Y/N and Charles alone, Y/N pulled away to face Charles.

“Well so much for that plan, I really am sorry, Charles.” Y/N said.

“You know what? It’s alright, it’s okay, pretending around here should be easy enough, this can’t get worse, right?” Charles asked.

“I Don’t think it can. How about I buy you lunch for getting you into this situation? I swear I did not mean for this to happen.” Y/N said.

“Yeah, sure let’s get lunch, where do you want to go?” Charles asked.

“Well since this lunch is my treat, you choose where we should go.” Y/N said. Charles and Y/N walked to the parking lot together and Y/N was walking towards her car when Charles grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards his car. “Seriously?”

“Well what kind of boyfriend would I be if we went to lunch in different cars?” Charles asked.

“Yeah, makes sense, Ruggero is watching through the window too, let’s go.” Y/N said. Charles opened the passenger door and Y/N got in, he close the door behind her, ever there gentleman, and he got into the driver seat. He turned on the car, and gave Y/N his phone so she can choose the music.

They arrived at the restaurant and like always, there were fans recording Charles and Y/N in the car, leaving the car, eating at the restaurant, talking, laughing, within the hour, Charles and Y/N were trending on Instagram, Twitter (X), and TikTok. As they waited for the check, Y/N was scrolling on TikTok when she found a video of her and Charles in the car.

“Charles, i think our ‘relationship’ went public.” Y/N said, showing him her phone. Charles’s eyes widened.

“Cant say I’m not surprised, I just thought videos wouldn’t be posted until later, you know?” Charles said and Y/N put her phone away.

“We haven’t even been ‘dating’ two hours and now everyone knows. You have no idea how sorry I am, I feel so bad for dragging you into this.” Y/N said.

“None of this wouldn’t have happened if Ruggero understood the word ‘no’ so you are fine, I’m glad I was able to help. But what was that thing you called me? ‘Muñeco’? Why did you call me that?” Charles asked.

“So ‘muñeco’ means ‘doll’, you have a pretty face, everyone says you’re good looking, you know you’re good looking. So muñeco just suits you, okay, especially with those dimples.” Y/N said, Charles smirked a little.

“You think I have a pretty face?” Charles asked teasingly.

“Great, I boosted your ego, like your head wasn’t big enough already. You literally said in one of those C2 challenges when Carlos had your photo that if you were a woman, you would be in love with yourself.” Y/N said. The waiter came in with the check and Y/N was going to take it but Charles was faster. “Dude, I told you I was gonna pay.”

“It would look good if you paid, there are cameras everywhere apparently.” Charles said, placing his credit card with the check. The waiter took the check.

“Then I’ll Apple Pay you. You gonna train today?” Y/N asked.

“Yes actually, come with me? You could post it to my story.” Charles asked. The waiter came back with Charles’s card.

“Yeah, I can do that. But we gotta go to Scuderia Ferrari for my car.” Y/N said, getting up from the table, Charles getting up as well.

“I think it can stay there overnight.” Charles said.

“You want me to spend the entire day with you? You’re insane.” Y/N commented as they were leaving the restaurant.

“Maybe, but it is to keep up appearances.” Charles said.

“I guess, but how long do we say we’ve been dating?” Y/N asked, getting into Charles’s car, he does the same.

“4 months seems good, don’t you think?” Charles asked.

“I guess that’s plausible.” Y/N said, Charles starts the car and drives off.

“Do you miss New York?” Charles asked.

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked.

“You travel a lot with us and you moved to Monaco for work, but do you ever miss New York? Your family? I know I miss my family when I’m away for races.” Charles said.

“I miss the food in New York, I can’t get decent tacos al pastor in Monaco, I gotta wait til the Mexican Grand Prix for them.” Y/N stated. “But yeah, I do miss New York.”

“You should ask for vacation time so you could go.” Charles said.

“I Don’t think they’ll give it to me, but thanks.” Y/N said.

For a week, Y/N and Charles have been spotted together everywhere, at races obviously, with Joris, Andrea, Doni, and Victoria, even with Charles’s family. Right now Y/N was with Charles at a club in Monaco. Y/N was at a table with Charles was at the bar getting drinks. Y/N noticed a girl flirting with Charles, touching his hand, before he pulled away with two drinks for him and Y/N.

“Charles, can we talk for a second?” Y/N asked.

“Sure, what’s on your mind, mon ange?” Charles asked, the nickname still causing butterflies in Y/N’s stomach.

“If you wanted to hook up with that girl, you can. I don’t want to have you tied down for a fake relationship.” Y/N said.

“I wasn’t interested in her at all, you know.” Charles commented.

“Really? What happens when the next girl that hits on you is more your type? I don’t want to hold you back, we are friends after all.” Y/N said.

“I have a confession to make.” Charles said, Y/N nodded her head for Charles to continue. “I’ve liked you for a while. Before you kissed me, it was a little crush, I thought it would have went away, but being with you this past week made my crush grow stronger. You don’t have to feel the same way, I just wanted to get this off my chest.” Y/N was shocked. Charles usually went for Instagram models, but he actually likes her, this was her dream come true.

“I’ve liked you for a while too, I just never thought you would see me that way.” Y/N said.

“I’m going to kiss you right now, okay?” Charles whispered, getting closer to Y/N, looking at her lips then back into her eyes, Y/N nodded, leaning in until their lips touched. It was a soft, gentle kiss, until Charles gained more confidence to do more. They pulled away. “Will you be my girlfriend? For real, this time?” Charles asked.

“Yes I will.” Y/N responded, they kissed again.

The End

Was this good? I think it was good, the pacing is weird, but I had no idea where this was going, just saying. Was it just as good as “prince of Ferrari”? Probably not, but I hope y’all liked it, should I keep writing Charles Leclerc fanfics?

[beansprean]

My Familiar’s Ghost part 81

Masterpost Masterpost 2

See the latest pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Wide shot, knees up, of vampire Guillermo and Nandor sitting on the couch in the library in front of the papered-over bay window. Nandor is wearing one of his usual outfits and Guillermo is wearing something new: a dark blue shirt with a pink floral pattern, a dark red sweater vest, brown cuords, and a string of pearls. Both are looking at the viewer and have clipboards in their hands, Guillermo's pen poised and ready on the paper and Nandor gesturing his in the air as he asks, 'So...what makes you the best candidate for our new familiar?'

2. Reverse shot of a single green armchair on a vague brown background. Sitting on it, legs crossed, is a southeast Asian woman in her 30s with shoulder length black hair and countless slash-like scars running up her arms, neck, and face. She is wearing a purple sweater with 3/4 sleeves, black leggings, and combat boots. She grimaces, looking upward, left arm waving vaguely as her right nervously fingers the arm of the chair, and says, 'Well, I survived three years with Gorgo the Murderer...'

3. Repeat, new candidate in the chair: a fat white man in his 30s with close cropped sandy blond hair and unsettling blue eyes, wearing a blue polo and brown chinos. His arms are covered in gorey tattoos depicting blood, buzzsaws, skulls, and fangs, plus one art nouveau portrait and black fang shapes above and below his mouth. He stares directly forward with a fixed grin, hands laced together over his chest, and declares, 'My former mistress always said I had a knack for dismemberment.'

4. Repeat, new candidate in the chair: a fat brown hispanic person in their 20s with hazel eyes, big glasses, and half bleach blonde half dark brown hair in a bowl cut. She is wearing a red flannel open over a TrueBlood tee shirt and jeans, nails painted teal, a silver hoop in each ear. They are leaning forward eagerly, fists clenched and eyes wide, babbling, 'You're the only familiar I've ever heard of who got turned! What's the turnaround for your familiars? Which one of you will turn me?!'

5. Repeat, new candidate in the chair: a small white woman in her 60s with gray-streaked auburn hair wearing a low-cut dark pink top tucked into a plaid knee-length skirt. Her long nails are painted a dark reddish brown to match her lipstick, and she also has on pantyhose and, inexplicably, a diamond ring on her left ring finger. She leans casually against the side of the chair, brown eyes roaming the ceiling, and announces, 'I've had so many masters by now... I'm really just looking for something more long-term...'

6a. Reverse shot back to Guillermo and Nandor on the couch. Nandor leans forward with a suggestive smirk, touching the butt of his pen coyly to his chin, and replies, 'That is good to hear... I trust your age will not prevent you from your duties?' Guillermo glares at him from the corner of his eye, grip shaking on his pen. 6b. Knees up in profile of Nandor and the milf candidate sitting across from each other, leaning forward with suggestive grins. One of her legs stretches forward to rub against his and she touches her chest demurely, replying, 'Honey, I can handle whatever you have for me-' Guillermo leans around Nandor to get between them and interrupts her, loudly shouting 'Next!!' 6c. Zoom in to shoulders up of Nandor, turned toward the viewer to curl his fingers in a wave as the milf leaves offscreen, muttering, 'Uh, well, thank you for your time.' Nandor glances over his shoulder with the smuggest of grins at Guillermo, who is absolutely seething behind him. Guillermo is surrounded by a ragged black aura, frowning as deeply as his boyish face allows, glowing orange eyes burning holes into the back of Nandor's head. /end ID

[cloveroctobers]

GRANDMA’S HOUSE — ARMANDO ARETAS x BLACK! READER [Summer Randoms]

A/N: this was honestly inspired by typical family functions + a vid I saw on Instagram (possibly belonging to Tiktok) where we all have that universal experience where we spend the night at grandma’s lol.

SYNOPSIS: your grandmother’s always been in your business, you had a good job? Great! That job got on your nerves? Just be thankful that you have a job when there’s plenty that can’t even find one. You finally moved out of your parent’s house? Good for you, it’s about damn time. Now when you upgraded even more, hearing that you have finally got yourself a boyfriend after being single for only the lord knows how long…she opens up her home for you and Armando to crash instead of spending money (you both had it) out of the kindness of her heart—mostly.

<- read my previous anthology piece here.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Your grandmother smelled like fresh baked cookies with a hint of peppermint, Armando thinks as the smaller woman embraces him at the front door. The ranch styled house is more fitting than the coastal one she offered you two to stay in last summer out in The Hamptons. From what Armando’s learned about the elderly woman is that she may have the sweetest face but her lip was more deadly than anything. He would have never guessed that Granny Bessie would ever want to be bothered with the folks out there but it was evident that she held her own.

He shouldn’t have suspected anything less.

“Oh you’re so handsome,” Granny Bessie pats Armando’s cheek before staring up at his hair, “You got Indian in you? Looking like you got that Arabian grade of hair.”

Armando casted a glance at you who deeply sighed at the slight ignorance in the entry way of the home. He kept a smile on his face, finding this humorous more than anything, “No, ma’am. I’m Hispanic: Mexican…and black. I used to get Guyanese all the time though.”

The woman nods in agreement as she waves him into the home, “I thought your daddy was coming too?”

Armando inhaled at the mention of the man, who your granny had no issue inviting to her home as well for the upcoming festivities, “Detective Lowrey’s flight got delayed, probably won’t be here until early morning.”

The woman raised a brow at Armando as she closes the door behind him, “You call your father by his profession?”

“Well he hasn’t been much of a father so, yeah.”

“Hold on now, that’s still your blood—

“Granny! How’s the garden been treating you?”

“Oh, It’s flourishin’, baby.” She grins as you slip an arm across her shoulders and sent an apologetic look at your boyfriend, “your cousin Saleema and I went out to the Lowe’s and picked up a bunch of flowers. She helped me plant half of them but I know you’ll help me do the rest.”

She had a whole lot planned it seemed, considering you two came up for a couple of days for the upcoming family reunion at her house. You honestly thought about not attending, since you didn’t feel like socializing with half of your father’s side (1. they were either in your business to make sure you weren’t doing better than them—it wasn’t a competition in the first place but apparently it was in their eyes, 2. acted like they didn’t know you and expected you to roll out the red carpet for them—meaning if you didn’t speak to them first then that automatically became a problem, or 3. simply weren’t wrapped too tight in the head) but pushed through it since your granny got sensitive about not seeing her grand babies as often now that you were all adults.

Armando chuckled to himself at that, you knew your granny would bring this up since your cousin wouldn’t stop boasting about their outing in the: first cousins group chat. Saleema was older, just touched forty and was single living in her condo with her funny looking cat. She was always your granny’s favorite—perhaps it had to do with her being the first grandchild since your aunt had her young—although Saleema was a true hell raiser throughout her teenage and college years apparently, she hardly got shit on out of the grandchildren and it showed.

“Sure thing…anything you want me to help with on the inside first? You know I’m not built for this type of heat.” You whistled, fanning at the back of your neck after swiping some of the braids to your boho Bob to the side.

Granny Bessie scoffs, “stop that lyin’ baby, you chose to live out there with them gators and those strange Florida folks so you have to be built for some of it.”

Armando laughs as he follows you two into the living room, spotting old photos of: Granny Bessie during her bowling tournaments with her voluminous hair, various of family members, and childhood photos of yourself and many more cousins from previous family reunions.

“Oh you should see her Granny.” Armando speaks up after putting a picture back above the piano, “I think she got bougie on you, she even walks outside with umbrellas.”

Not this man snitching on you?

Granny side eyes you, hand still latched on your waist, “…you not one of them demonic people now are you?”

Now it was your turn to send a dark stare to Armando, who bit down on his bottom lip trying to hide his laughter. He knew what he had started, knowing that your grandmother was religious and always had something to say about other aesthetics? The goths and the emos received no love from Granny Bessie.

“No, grandma!”

You only ever called her by that to show that you were serious.

“Good,” she states with a pat to your hip before adding, “you haven’t contracted high blood pressure yet have you? I just knew it would hit you like it hit your father and me.”

Shaking your head you reply, “Nope, still dealing with low blood pressure actually.”

“That’s why I told you to up your vitamins and eat better foods. Good thing you’re here with me for a few days, I’ll send you on your way brand new,” she dusts her hands off with a clap, “your doctor will be thanking me.”

“As he should, granny Bessie knows all!” You rested your head against the shorter woman.

“Damn straight, now y’all come on in here and get you something to eat.” The elderly woman with the Mother Nature braids waves you two along.

Armando starts to squeeze his way by at the news of eating, hands rubbing together in excitement as his stomach rumbled before he steps to the side to continue letting you two go ahead.

“…ah a gentleman! I think I like him so far.” Granny Bessie whispers up at you, carrying into the kitchen.

It was 7pm by the time Granny Bessie was packing it up and getting ready for bed. She made the arrangements, sticking Armando in the back room while it left herself and you on opposite sides of the home. She of course let the home be open to you two but you knew not to stay up too late since the woman liked to be up early and active. Granny Bessie was in her seventies and still moved quickly even when her Arthritis was acting up. Everyone told her to slow down but granny Bessie has proven that she was always going to what she damn well wanted to.

Which definitely stood when she sent her last warning to you two of where you two would be sleeping for the night.

The both of you stood at the entry way of the ranch home, lips attached and battling each others as Armando swung you towards the wall, hand going to your waist then down the side of your ass to hook your leg over his hip.

“You said Granny Bessie was a snorer didn’t you?” Armando breathed against your neck.

You nod as you lick your lips, “yeah but she’s still a light sleeper and I’m not in the mood to get cussed out when we get caught.”

“When?” Armando quirked up his brows to look up at you, “All you have to do is keep quiet, mami.”

“And you think you’re going to help me do that?” You question while Armando thinks about it, “Yeah no.”

You pecked his lips while running your fingers over his facial hair, “just call me on FaceTime if the night gets too bad.”

For as long as you’ve been dating Armando, you weren’t completely oblivious. You knew that he didn’t adapt well to new spaces and it only got worse at night. The nightmares kept him up and anxiety was a bitch, he was trying to get through it on his own and even tried to hide it from you plenty of times before he moved in but there wouldn’t be any secrets in your relationship.

And you wouldn’t disrespect your granny’s home—never did and never will.

“Alright,” Armando sighed as he kissed your forehead, “better keep your phone charged, we both know how you are.”

You scowl as he pushes the creaking door back that led down the narrow hallway, “that was only a few times and I had valid reasons.”

“Uh huh,” Armando holds his hand out back for you to interlock your fingers before stopping in the middle of the hallway, “…goodnight baby.”

“Sleep tight, don’t let the dolls bite.”

Armando halts at kissing the back of your hand as he steps towards you, head dipped as he quizzes with a soft whisper, “…what fucken dolls?”

You’re trying to silence your cackling at the deadpan angle of Armando’s face on your phone screen as you settle into bed. There’s no cable in this room so you’re stuck leaving the tv on some court show that’ll help you fall asleep. It only took maybe a minute or two for Armando to start calling you, you on your side and arms tucked underneath the comfy blankets that made you feel like you were back in your childhood.

Granny Bessie had all sorts of trinkets decorating the dresser drawer by the side of the door and you had to remind yourself that if you needed to get up during the night to not stub your toe.

“It’s not that bad is it?” You ask while Armando just simply blinks at you, which said enough.

Eventually you’re the one that falls asleep on Armando although you promise that you wouldn’t. He knew that was a lost cause after you decided to shut the tv off, welcoming the pitch black and snuggle deeper into the sheets without him. You were closer to the opposite end of the hallway with your granny right across the hall but her bed sat deep in her own room yet that didn’t stop you from hearing her lawn mowing snores. You even popped an earphone in one ear to drawn out the noise and just enjoyed the company of your man on charge.

He ends up falling asleep after you but it takes him much longer, browsing social media, checking up on his side business, ignoring a text from Marcus, and simply sending a thumbs up to Mike’s text that he was finally boarding. Armando managed to keep himself busy, fighting the urge to snatch up all the weird looking dolls, rip their heads off and shove them in the closet.

He guessed this was a thing with Grandma’s having obsessions with odd items?

He makes sure his own phone in on charge, bringing it back to the FaceTime call of your closed eyes before completely covering his head underneath the covers then dozed off himself.

That doesn’t last long being woken up out of his sleep. There’s a loud booming noise in the distance and he’s tempted to find his piece just to make sure no one was breaking in. Granny Bessie had an alarm system and that didn’t seem to be going off but that didn’t stop Armando from sitting up in bed. He looks at the dolls and it suddenly feels as if their soulless eyes are still watching him.

He tossed the covers back, feet on the carpet, eyes finding a random blue light that he couldn’t find the source of as he passed by the edge of the bed. This room was suffocating and he feels like he’s been sweating underneath the sheets. The house was cool before the both of you went to bed and now it felt like being inside of a sauna.

Armando pulls the door back, peeking out into the abyss of a hallway and he just hopes there’s no one else in the house but you three. Leaving the door open a crack he moves back into the bedroom to grab his phone to use the flashlight since he can’t remember where exactly the hallway light is.

The floor creaks underneath his feet as he moves from the back of the house. As he gets to the middle of the hallway, he picks up on Granny Bessie’s snoring and stops at your room. His fingers rack against the door and he gets no response so he moves forth with twisting the door knob. Your back is to the door now, phone abandoned on the floor but still charging.

He picks it up for you and steps back out.

Armando lets you sleep, heading towards the front of the house. He’s in the entry way and the home feels much bigger in the dark, more eerie but knows he’ll find comfort in the dining room or kitchen—where the snacks are.

It’s 3 in the morning when you get the violent urge to use the bathroom. You try to fight it but the pressure in your belly isn’t pleasant so you throw the covers back in annoyance. It was your own fault chugging that ice cold water before you started making out with Armando but you didn’t need to acknowledge that. Shoving your fuzzy socks on, you pull the door open and head out into the dark hallway. Eyes half lidded as you use the wall for guidance to the bathroom, your head turns to the left to see the hallway door is left open just a crack but you carry into the bathroom.

Leaning against the door after doing your business, you feel a pull to head out into the main areas of the home. You see a light from the right of the dining room and walk through the sitting room towards it. Turning to the right you spot Armando immediately, snacking as you plop down beside him in another chair.

Balling your arms up on the table, you rest your head against them as you ask, “Can’t sleep?”

“You didn’t hear that big ass noise?” He says around the dried fruit he’s chewing on, “Sounded like a whole bomb.”

You hum, “yeah we’re near the military base…I thought I mentioned that.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“My grandad was a vet. They moved here in the early 2000’s, it’s a whole community.” You yawn.

Armando shakes his head, “that sounds like nothing but triggers. I don’t know if that’s worst or the creepy ass dolls following me with their laser blue beams as I snuck out of the room.”

Frowning you sigh, “did you take an edible before bed?”

Armando feels his eye twitch, “no I didn’t take a fucken edible—I’m for real. Is this supposed to be normal? The dolls? The random lights? The bombs? The clicking and buzzing?”

You shrug, “…I didn’t hear any of that…or maybe I just learned to tune it out.”

“I see you didn’t get the light sleeping from your granny then.” Armando mumbles while you snort, moving one arm to latch onto his wrist.

Slowly lifting your head you say, “…well we can’t stay out here for the rest of the morning. Granny gets up at six and probably will let us rest until eight if we’re lucky so…”

Waking up early had no effect on Armando since he barely slept anyways. He already scoped out the area once the two of you got closer to Granny’s home from the airport for a good workout.

You just didn’t know it yet.

Working out with Armando in the gym was a death sentence and you’ll be damned if you do it out in this heat too? You rather go to hell in a pretty hand basket and Armando was willing to take you there honestly.

No pain, no gain.

*Cue the eye roll*

“That’s cool,” Armando shrugged, “but I’m not goin’ back in that room.”

Sitting back against the chair you huff, “fine you big baby…set the timer to 5:45 so you can go back to your room. Don’t think she won’t check once she’s up for the day.”

Armando scowls as you scrape back from the kitchen table, reaching over to slap your backside, “I’ll show you a baby if you keep getting smart.”

Rubbing the sting on your back side, you fan your hand back at him, which he snatched to hold while setting a timer as you both make your way to the hallway. Too tired to give him any lip, you were just ready to get back into bed and cuddling with your man didn’t hurt.

Your back is to Armando, he tucks himself right into you, feet intertwined, his hairy legs prickling your shaven ones, chin buried into the space of your neck and shoulder while cradling your stomach.

“…how long were your grandparents together?”

You heard him but take a minute to respond as you fight sleep, “They’ve been married since the early 60s…all the way up until pa’s passing in 2019.”

Armando breathes you in, “how’d they do it for so long?”

“That’s something you’ll have to ask Granny but they were everything good you can imagine—nothings perfect but they felt like it you know?”

“…Think he was used to all the noises here?”

You snort, “he’s always been a night owl so if any of us couldn’t sleep, he was always up in the living room in his chair, eating that a disgusting banana ice cream just waiting for any of us to talk. If we had a nightmare, he’d do anything to make us laugh until we forgot it.”

“Sounds like a special man.”

“He was.”

“…I want that you know? With you. The kids and the gran’s. The creaks and the strange, a loving home. A place where anybody can stay and feel like life’s worth revisiting, like it was nothing but a breeze once you see who you’re surrounded by. A less lonely life.”

You shuffle to face him now, resting your head underneath his chin, not finding this conversation to be new. Most nights when Armando couldn’t sleep, he would ramble about what a future could look like with you.

It warmed your heart just as much as how warm your granny kept the back of the house.

“Then let’s do it.” You mumble into the night as Armando squeezes you, placing a kiss right on top of your bonnet.

That sealed the deal.

“Morning, dear. How did you sleep?” Granny Bessie asks with a mug of coffee as Armando makes his presence known.

Armando glances at you who sips at your own mug with a hidden small smile, “Good. Thanks, Granny Bessie. I’m actually about to head out for my daily run…would you like to join us?”

That gets you to cast a glance at the man over your shoulder who softly squeezes your shoulders with a grin, “us?” You whisper.

Granny Bessie laughs, “oh no. I need to tend to some things around the house but make sure you eat something because the heat will rise by the time you’re out there. Also did you speak to your daddy about what time we should be expecting him?”

“He probably should have landed by now.” Armando shrugs, trying to ignore the feeling that he felt when Granny Bessie labeled the man as such.

You say, “He texted me about twenty minutes ago. He was heading to baggage claim, maybe in the next hour he should be here.”

“Alright, well you two best be going and stay away from the houses from the next two streets over…nothing but confederates on that side.”

The woman wags her finger in warning.

Armando nods, “Thanks Granny,” he pops a red grape into his mouth, “these are delicious.”

“Take as much as you want, darling.” The woman squeezes his elbow on her way by, “Now I’m going to go get fully ready for Mr. Lowrey.”

Frowning you ask, “now what do you mean by that granny?”

“Just that I need to be presentable in my own home.”

“Uh huh. I know you’ve been on Facebook and know what Mike looks like.”

“I am a woman of God, do not sass me.”

Armando snickers while you raise your hands in surrender, finishing off your morning juice.

“I see you Granny Bessie.” Armando teases while the woman fans her hands at him.

“Hush! Don’t make my bad list, Herman.”

You gently reminded, “It’s Armando, granny.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Okay! love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” She grins.

As you’re locking up the screen door, you and Armando walk around the path to the driveway to exit the home. He silently stops you, encouraging you to stretch while you send him an unimpressed look.

Armando was lucky you didn’t go into hiding around the house and shouldn’t be so bossy but you knew better.

“When did Granny see a pic of Mike?”

You switch to bending to the other toe, “when she wanted to see a picture of you. Then she proceeded to rate you, Dorn, Rafe, and of course…”

Armando laughs as he finishes, “Mike. your granny is a trip.”

“Tell me about it.” You try to prolong this morning exercise but he picks up pretty quick and isn’t having it.

He stops jogging in place, hand going out to slap your ass before pulling you along by the hand.

You’re wheezing, ready to throw a whole tantrum, legs stinging, wrists limp as you drag yourself up Granny’s driveway. There’s a Porsche parked to the right in the driveway by the rental you picked up from the airport. Mike’s already out of the car, at the trunk as he’s pulling out his luggage.

“Hey y’all! uh oh, Armando what did you do to my girl?” The smile vanishes from Mike’s face as his son glances back at you.

If the ground wasn’t so damn hot, if the air, if everything wasn’t on temperature hell you would have face planted right on the gravel.

Armando also looks back at you, hands on your knees as you give a wave to Mike, whose brows are deeply furrowed before he raises them to the twenty-eight year old closest to him.

“She’s aight.” He shrugs, “we needed to get our cardio in and she’s the one who wanted to tone that hot girl body up—her words not mine but I don’t disagree.” Armando looks at you again, biting down on his bottom lip, “she’s lucky I didn’t strap any weights to her ankles.”

Raising your hands above your head, you actually feel yourself sway doing that movement over touching your knees and Mike actually takes a step toward you but Armando presses the back of his knuckles against his bio dad’s chest. Mike takes his eyes off you for a second and sizes Armando’s hand as he’s now analyzing you closely himself.

“I don’t know how many serious girlfriends you done had in your life man but I’m telling you right now, if that girl ends up in the hospital with heat stroke because of you pushing her too hard, that’s your ass.” Mike warns Armando, who glares up at him.

He didn’t need Mike to tell him about you.

He was the one who took the time to get to know you mind body and soul.

Mike’s missed out on twenty-something years and didn’t get to give Armando any advice.

And that’s on Kanye!

Armando does move over to you the moment you feel your stomach clench, ready to upchuck any light breakfast you had. He doesn’t waste time picking you up and over his shoulder, you resting limply against him before he’s walking by Mike.

He pauses, “your room is the last room at the back of the house, padre.”

And with that Armando continues towards the house, ready to cater to you because what Mike Lowrey didn’t know was that Armando would die for you.

Mike is mumbling to himself, trying to control his temper since it felt like he was building a connection with Armando one minute and then in the next he was pulling ten steps back. The kid didn’t even offer to come back and help him bring his things in—not that Mike needed it but it was a decent thing to do.

Respect was earned and the duo had a long way to go.

So Mike lets it go, slamming the trunk shut before meeting a very excited Granny Bessie at the front door.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

More Armando content here.

[sturniolos-blog]

omg hi , I have a request for you . I was just thinking this , I dont know if you want to do it but I was thinking maybe the reader is a guess in one of they podcast and they daughter comes in the room and interrupt them or maybe they son comes up and its worried about his sister cause she is sad or upset or did something bad. Or maybe they doing a podcast and they hear a loud bang and it was they kids . They kids are around like maybe 6 or 8 years old. I dont know I just thought of that and that hey maybe you would love it . also love your writing so much .

Podcast with a twist - Matt Sturniolo x Y/n oneshot

warnings - throw up, fluff, sickness

disclaimer: i just made up a podcast topic this isn’t actually a topic

i also know they ending the podcast but like ntm on it. 3rd person pov

—————————

6:05pm

“Alright, good evening campers. Today we have a special but not new guest on today’s podcast, Y/n Sturniolo!” Nick introduces.

Y/n let’s out a laugh, playing with her fingers. “Hello, guys. Happy to be here.” She says shyly, Matt looking at her in adoration.

Everyone let’s out a small chuckle.

“So on our instagram story we asked you guys what questions you have for Y/n. So, Chris will start.” Matt said, giving Y/n a small smile as Chris began to read.

Chris looks off his phone, “Y/n, are you a stay at home mom? and if you aren’t what do you do for work?” Chris read.

Y/n took in a breath, “Well, i actually work from home but i am a journalist. I have lots of articles published that you can read on losangelesnews.com. I also do have an office but i prefer to work at home.” She smiles.

Matt gives her a small wink which wouldn’t go unnoticed by viewers but he didn’t mind.

“Alright, next question. This is kind of for Matt and Y/n. What made you pick Estrella and Mailo for names?” Nick asked.

Y/n looked at Matt, expecting him to answer first.

Matt gives Y/n a nod to start first though.

“Uh- so yo hablo español y estoy hispanic, soy de Puerto Rico. Anyway, quise to do something with a star. Therefore Estrella means star in spanish, porque Ella es mi star and will always be.” Y/n answers, smiling.

yo hablo español y estoy hispanic, soy de puerto rico: i speak spanish and im hispanic, im from puerto rico.

quise: I wanted

porque ella es mi: because she is my

(i’m saying puerto rico because i’m puerto rican but if you are hispanic or latina you can fill in for wherever you are from.)

Matt smiles and nods, “I agree. She’s both our stars.”

Chris and Nick share a look before Chris speaks up, “I only understood maybe half of what you said but that’s sweet.”

Y/n laughs, “It’s okay, Chris.” She says, running a hand through her hair.

“What about Mailo? Where’d you guys come up with that?” Nick asked, looking between Y/n and Matt.

“I wanted something simple but different, so Mailo is a simple name just spelled differently.” Matt shrugged, making Chris and Nick nod.

Chris then went to ask another question, “So, Y/n when-”

“Mommy!” Mailo calls out, running in the podcast room and around the table to where Y/n was sitting.

Y/n scrunched her eyebrows, “Que pasa, hijo?” She asked, brushing some hair out of his face.

que pasa, hijo: what’s wrong, son?

“I think Estrella is upset, she’s not talking to me.” Mailo said, hugging Y/n’s knee.

Y/n sighed, “Okay, I can go check on her after, sweetheart, me and daddy are busy, baby-”

“No! Now! Mommy!” Mailo started to stomp, shaking Y/n’s knee.

“Mailo, buddy, relax.” Matt said, sternness to his voice, enough to make Mailo calm down.

Y/n rubbed her forehead, “Sorry, guys. I’m gonna go check on my daughter.”

Matt nodded, responding first. “It’s okay, go baby.” He said.

Y/n smiled and Mailo took her hand as they left the room.

Y/n walked into the living room seeing Ella on the couch, holding her stomach.

“Ella? Estás bien?” Y/n asked her four year old, walking over and sitting on the couch.

Estás bien?: are you okay?

Estrella lets out a soft whimper, Y/n now noticing the tears down Ella’s face. “Me duele el estomago, mommy.” She lets out a soft cry.

me duele el estómago: my stomach hurts

“Alright, baby. Come on, let’s go lay down.” Y/n told her, grabbing her hand.

She left out another soft cry, making Y/n give her a sad smile and pick her up. “Okay, mommy’s got you.” Y/n cooed as they started to walk up the stairs and to Matt’s old room since they weren’t home.

Y/n then placed Ella down on the bed before she made a weird sound, indicating she was about to throw up.

Y/n immediately backed up, rushing to get the trash can but it was too late as Ella leaned over the side of the bed and threw up on the floor.

Y/n let out a sigh.

Estrella finished rubbing her mouth with her hand.

“Okay, Ella, don’t do that, hold on, baby, let me clean you up.” Y/n said, going to the bathroom before coming back with a wet wash cloth.

She steps over the throw up on the floor and sits on the bed, Ella was sitting there crying as she wiped her own tears. “I’m sorry, mama!” Ella cried.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.” Y/n hushed, taking the wet washcloth and wiping ella’s face and hands. “Arms up, lovey.” Y/n said, signaling she was gonna change Ella’s shirt for her.

Y/n was grabbing another shirt when the door opened.

“Hey, is everything alr- woah. Someone threw up.” Matt said, looking away at the sight.

“Yes, your daughter did.” Y/n said, a little grumpiness in her tone as she put another shirt on Ella.

Y/n leaned down and kissed Ella’s head as Ella started to fall asleep.

“Can one of you lay down with me?” Ella asked softly, her eyes still closed.

Matt looked at me, i nodded, signaling him to lay down with her while i get stuck cleaning the throw up.

Matt smiled and got on the bed, taking Ella’s small body in his arms, kissing her head and rubbing her back.

—————————

this was lazy but i just wanted to get ts out

tag list: @sturniolosmind @novasturniolo03 @hearts4chriss @vinniehackerslefttoe @christhopersturniolo @mattybswife @streamermattsgf @sturnolio-luvs @sturnioloslurps @marlenafortuna @lovergirl4387 @sturniololovesss @junnniiieee07

[answer2jeff]

when it rolls in like thunder:

chapter 1.5 — anyone else but you.

DISCLAIMER: half chapters are much shorter and used as wholesome, or not ;), fillers for the series! they're essentially palate cleansers so you can be emotionally prepared for more angst + hurt/comfort in the full chapters. however, you won't need to read these half chapters to understand context in full ones.

husband!carmy x hispanic!wife!reader

teaser. chapter 1. next chapter.

warnings : reader occasionally speaks some Spanish that Carmen hasn't picked up on. he thinks it's endearing. nothing else really. just very fluffy and touching. just good ol' sappy carmen and his wife going out for the day before the honeymoon!

authors note : this series is not doing well and it's kinda killing me inside but that's okay! just for funzies. also, the end is mostly dialogue. got a little lazy. sorry!

word count : 3k (not as short as i thought it would be ngl..)

highly recommend listening to the series playlist.

song(s) for this chapter : anyone else but you, & everyone adores you (at least i do)

"14.56? You're kidding me!"

Your eyes scan over the rainbow assortment of fresh, boxed fruit, the overpriced strawberries immediately grasping your attention. But not necessarily in a good way. Neither you or Carmen can totally remember who's idea it was to walk to the farmers market in this dry heat. It's not like you don't enjoy long walks, but it comes with cons. Pollen irritates your nose and the wind always messes up your hair.

You tug at Carmen's shirt, which, for once, isn't a tight-fitting pure cotton tee. It almost looks a little big on him, the sleeves rolled and cuffed perfectly so they still hug his arms. It's collared too. That ring on his finger makes your knees weak. He smells like the cologne he used to snag from Mikey's bathroom as a teenager. Richie got him his own bottle for Christmas the year after his passing and he's been wearing a spray or two on his neck and the insides of his wrists every 'special occasion' ever since.

And a hint of cigarette smoke. But you like it.

You always have.

He looks good. Fresh. Clean. Yours.

"Wow. I mean—" Carmen lets out a breathy chuckle that isn't quite loud enough to be a laugh, "it's a massive box. And it's strawberry season: May."

Still, despite his persuasive tone and the big hand that sits in the back pocket of your jean shorts as he stands beside you, it's not enough to convince you it's reasonable.

"But—"

"And we're at a farmers market, like, 10 minutes away from our place. Convenience costs money, baby."

Carmen peers down at you, retracting his hand from your rear and teasingly pushing your head into his shoulder. You pout. You don't want him to be right. The dramatics are fun.

"Pero, que es eso? Quieren que yo pago casi quince dólares para unos pinche fresas?" You throw your hands up, directly pointing to the tempting, fresh, and beautifully red fruit.

Carmen only nods. Even after 2 years of accidentally eavesdropping on your conversations, filled with the Spanish slang and sometimes vulgar language you've been using your whole life, he still hasn't quite learned much. Most of the time, he's too anxious to ask you what you're saying. He worries it'll make you stop doing it in front of him.

Until he comes to Tina, desperately. She'll ask him for the details but he can only remember bits and pieces of your one-sided conversations with him. She laughs for a moment or makes her eyes go theatrically wide just to fuck with his head. But eventually, she tells him the truth.

You only know this because Tina immediately started cracking jokes after she spent 15 minutes crying over your engagement, and then another 25 over your official elopement. 'Sacaste con un puré, gringo, mi vida! He needs patience!' she'd say to you whenever Carmen did the most minuscule thing that not-so-accidentally set you off.

"Mi amor," you turn to him, pinching your fingers and widening your eyes to make sure he's really paying attention, even if he doesn't understand you, "podemos comprar la misma cosa en Walmart, or algo así!"

The look in his eyes suggests that he didn't catch most of that. The only words he picked up were "mi amor" and "Walmart," obviously. He just assumes you're continuing your pointless bicker. But he doesn't have the heart, or even the want, to stop you.

He does love the way your nicknames for him roll off of your tongue. It warms something in him. Almost as if he believes your words capture your feelings and fully encapsulates him better than boring English ever does. They're smooth and they stick to his brain hours, or even days after they're spoken to him. In fact, he's been pretending he didn't faintly hear you whisper into his curls as he drifted off to sleep 'te amo con todo mi alma' last night, all fucking morning. It's the only full sentence you've ever spoken to him that he's been able to engrave into his memory.

"Uh-huh," he chuckles as he nods his head slowly, his dimples cinching in near the corners of his mouth. His skin looks a little tanner and brighter than usual. The veins in his eyelids are nearly invisible now, and the little moles that are scattered around his face and body are so much darker now. You thank the spring, nearly reaching the tips of summer, sun for bringing some life back to him. But you're not done complaining. So, you try not to smile in awe of your husband.

"Ó sea, que, are they gonna make me grow a magical straw-baby?"

"What, like—like how people say you'll grow a watermelon in your stomach if you swallow a seed?"

"Yeah! Like that!"

"I don't know, peach. Maybe?"

"It's not worth finding out."

"Yeah. Definitely not."

Despite this, you guys buy the damn strawberries.

You continue walking through the market and stopping at every other intricate little selection of produce, picking up ingredients for tonight's, tomorrow's, and the next day's dinner. You're still snacking on the overpriced strawberries, the entire carton in hand. Carmen occasionally lets you pop one in his mouth. He contently bites right before the stem and swallows. They're perfectly ripe, sweet, and juicy. And unfortunately a tad bit sticky. In the end, they're worth the aggressive price tag.

Finally, you stop in your tracks at a flower stand. Bouquets tied together with white ribbonYou're immediately drawn to the vibrant red of the roses and the pure, angelic white of the mums. Oh god, and you're convinced the baby's breath tucked in neatly between each gap that couldn't be closed by blooming petals could remedy the need for plant life in your living room. The fantasy makes you feel like you just can't leave without taking some of these gorgeous flowers with you.

"Mm—" you point, your mouth full of mushy strawberries, "those look really nice."

For a moment, Carmen hesitates. Those flowers will shrivel. They will lose their once attractive and captivating saturation of color. He's not even sure if they'll last more than 72 hours, given how bloomed the petals are. But you still have those clay vases from your engagement party. And he still loves to make you happy. Despite their fleeting nature, your appreciation for his gestures will last forever. Even if their lifespan doesn't.

Carmen's had this tendency for longer than either of you can pinpoint. Having money he doesn't need, money he doesn't use, has led to him making some questionable decisions. All in good faith. But impractical nonetheless. Take, for example, that time he bought you a Cartier love bracelet for your 1 year anniversary.

Yes, you heard that right. Cartier. The gold and shiny flat bands that required the disassembling and unscrewing of 18 karat gold bolts with a miniature fucking screwdriver. Oh, and this was even after you and him agreed to 'no gifts,' as you were already planning a trip to Copenhagen. The reaction he received from you wasn't quite what he expected. Tears streaming down your face and the kiss on his cheek to compensate for the lack of a proper gift for him was not part of the thoroughly walked through plan he wrote in his head. But your happiness is his, in the purest and pathetic and shameless way. He realized this the moment he screwed that last bolt and secured the thin piece of gold against the circumference of your wrist.

It's around 4pm, and the glistening sun is just slightly past its highest peek. Bright transparent blue and green spoons made from hard plastic swirl around in the cheap, (and definitely not authentic) gelato you share. Outdoor seating wasn't the first option, now that spring was slowly evolving into another scorching hot Chicago summer, but the AC of the parlor was sure to give you hypothermia.

"Fuckin' hot out here. Can't see," Carmen mutters, taking a small bite of the creamy pistachio mixture. He squints at the blinding beam of the sunlight. You felt a little guilty for letting him sit right in the direction of the sun. But he insisted.

"Did y'know blue eyes are more sensitive to sunlight?" You raised your brows, wiping the corner of your mouth and licking the gelato residue from it.

"Seriously?" Carmen leans forward, putting his hand above his eyes as a makeshift visor. His hand reaches out to adjust the heart shaped sunglasses that started to fall off of your head.

"Here," you hand them to him, feeling bad that you'd completely forgotten about them.

"And yes, seriously," you nod, hovering over the table and adjusting the sunglasses so they'd rest perfectly on Carmen's nose before sitting back down, "It's because blue eyes have less melanosomes compared to green and brown eyes."

A simple, "thank you, baby," would've sufficed, but kisses your lips, gently cradling your jaw and barely letting a breath of air slip through the empty space between your mouths after the 3rd kiss. Alas, you remove your lips from his and sit back down.

"Is there, like—"

"An exact number?" You finished his sentence.

"Yeah."

"Yes, actually. Blue eyes have 3 in each, green eyes have 5, and brown eyes usually have around 9 to 12 depending on how deep the color is."

You smile, shrugging your shoulders as you try to remain humble. It's impressive, he has to admit. Carmen's always been fascinated by your knowledge of pointless information. He wishes he could store and retain so much of what you know. But for now, he'll just admire you for it. He'll contemplate his lack of ability to remember things like patterns and bullet pointed facts that didn't relate to culinary arts later.

"Huh," he crosses his arms against his chest, his button up shirt squeezing his flesh and showing his slightly faded tattoos "kinda makes sense."

Letting out a laugh or two, you take another disappointing bite of the fake gelato monstrosity. It's not that it doesn't taste decent, but the texture is off and the crystallized ice that formed around the sides is unappealing for the price. Carmen had doubts since the moment you dragged him in by the hand like a greedy kid spotting a candy store. But he didn't say anything. What's the point of using his knowledge and skills to crush making you happy? It wasn't necessary at the time.

But, much to his pleasure of being correct, but his dismay of your disappointment, you aren't the biggest fan of it in the end.

"This isn't great," you swallow, shaking your head and dropping the spoon back into the paper cup in defeat as the green and nutty mixture went down your throat for the last time.

"It's not real," Carmen joins you, just to end up dropping his spoon in the same unfulfilling manner, too. "Most gelato places aren't. Gelato's dense. Not fluffy."

You nod, pushing the cup to the side and interlocking your fingers into his. His calloused fingertips gently caress the back of your hand and go over every little vein and mole that shines through your soft and soothing skin. He's become pretty fond of the whole hand-holding thing. Especially with that pretty rock on your finger. It's delicate. You're delicate. You're his.

"You've been doing that since the day we met, y'know," you hold onto his hand tighter, smiling and snatching your sunglasses back from his face with one swift motion before he can protest.

"What? Explaining shit about food you don't care about?" Carmen chuckles, his teeth showing. Sometimes he was embarrassed of his info-dumping, but he's learned to not be so shameful of it. You find it interesting. He doesn't really notice that he does it anymore.

"Yeah. But it's cute. It's what made me wanna keep talking to you. You don't do it to make me feel stupid, or something. You just.."

You paused to think.

"You know a lot about what you do, Carm. You're passionate."

Ah. The day you met.

Around 3 years ago, you'd just moved to the bustling city of Chicago after writing and successfully selling a beautiful script to an indie short film, which ended up being undeserving of your work due to the poor execution of dialogue. It didn't even end up showing at the film festival you were practically forced to attend. Even after co-writing and directing film projects and not-so-popular cinematic pieces, you hadn't tasted the pleasure of success. You dreamed to write something all on your own and conjure up a moving script of the century. You figured moving to a brand new city would get the creative juices flowing. Eventually, it did, but it took a boring circle of friends and a couple sleepless nights before you were successfully back and thriving in the industry.

You decided celebrating with an appletini or two at a shitty Karaoke bar down the block from your apartment was the best option. And thank god you did.

Carmen caught your eye the moment you detached yourself from your social circle to smoke a cigarette or two outback in the alleyway to melt the anxiety that started to consume you once you got a little tipsy for the first time in months. The tattoo on his hand and the way he crouched down on the asphalt beside Richie who complained endlessly about the complexities of his divorce was intriguing.

You butted into their conversation and lit a cigarette of your own, politely greeting them. Richie didn't say much. It's like he knew it would be Carmen's opportunity to function like a normal person and have a pleasant conversation with a random bar girl in black pantyhose and combat boots. The two of you discussed moving back to Chicago, discovering that Carmen actually grew up there and started a new life of culinary exploration and expertise, while you just needed a sense of control and escapism.

After the conversation had reduced to mundane small talk, visibly making both of you tense up, you finally got his name: Carmen Berzatto. His use of his full name was a little displacing. It made you wonder if you should've known who he was, considering his surprisingly humble background check. You couldn't help but want to know if there was more to him than his career. More than his cigarettes and his tattoos and his weird love-hate relationship with his family friend he called 'cousin' for no real particular reason.

More than the restaurant he'd been trying to revive.

That night caused him to come to the realization that he didn't actually know if there was more to him. Ever since that conversation and its rude interruption of Richie's right hook into some random guys face landing him in a cell overnight, he's been forming into a real person instead of the outer shell that is his job as a chef. He asked about your films, your projects, what made you start working in cinematography, and who your inspirations were. You answered completely honestly and wholeheartedly with every question, never making him feel a burden for his curiosity.

You could tell he was nervous with the way his voice shook and his breath went uneven with every look.

"I was kinda scared to talk to you when you came up to me," Carmen smiles, running his free hand through his dry and defined blonde curls. You squinted in disbelief.

"What? Me?"

"Yeah. I don't know, I–" he shrugs, leaning forward to get even closer to your again "you were cool right off the bat. You still are. Possibly a lot cooler than me."

You roll your eyes playfully, refusing to take the compliment in a fit of flattery. Constantly being humble around Carmen was kinda hard. Especially with the way he unintentionally showered you with compliments that were really just state of facts to him. But he didn't want you to be humble. He wanted you to own that shit.

"And you're beautiful. So, so beautiful. I think that scared me a little, too."

"I think I might've been more nervous than you were. I was just so determined to talk to the hot guy with tattoos and a blue apron over a slutty white t-shirt that I tried desperately to hide it," you joked, laughing harder at the sight of an eyeroll of his own.

"Yeah, well, look at us now. Married," Carmen smiles, gently pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear and exposing your decorated lobe with earrings Natalie gifted you for your birthday last year. "I'm glad you stuck it out. You always do. All the time."

Carmen gushes over your ability to 'always know what to say,' when you know deep down your life is just a constant cycle of 'figuring it out' and 'going with the flow' of inevitable highs and lows of life as you go on. Your brilliance is so organic. Everything about you has always been the purest form of excellence and love to him. Even when he barely knew you.

"Can I ask you a really stupid question?" You bite at the inside of your cheek, your hand releasing from Carmen's so you could clasp your palms together in a pleading motion.

"Sure."

You pause, swallowing the familiar lump that hasn't formed in your throat since the first time you told him you wanted every part of him in your life.

"When..." you breathe in sharply through your nose, "did you realize, 'oh yeah, I need to spend the rest of my life with her.' Was there any specific moment?"

Almost without a second thought, Carmen answers with a blush against his cheeks and his hand grasping yours again at the loss of physical contact.

"Probably the first time we kissed."

That response surprises you more than it probably should. That night in your apartment changed his course and perspective on love and life for the rest of eternity. He learned to slow down and let himself fail and pick the pieces of his mistakes back up.

"I love you, Carmy."

"I love you."

He says it back hungrily like he needs it to be branded into the ridges of your mind. And at this rate, it might've already been stamped into your memories of him.

current taglist : @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @fallinallinmendes @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria

[p3ndeja6]

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

c.brock x latina! y/n

summary: you moved to LA to be with your long distance boyfriend, you were having a great time, but after a couple of months you started to feel homesick and missed your hometown and your culture

content tags: spanish speaking reader, mexican reader, cultural references, overall a hispanic reader, not proof-read

word count: 1.6k

fluff ❀﹐

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Y/N

I've loved my time here in LA with colby and sam and all their friends but i recently fell in a funk. I miss my family and my friends.

you were scrolling through your photos and snapchat memories of your time in your hometown and started to feel really homesick, you began to cry, you laid back on you side and cried.

you missed your mom's delicious cooking, how she would make handmade tortillas, or her salsa picante. you didnt have that here and nor did anyone make it, you didnt have any hispanic friends in LA. You would only hang out with sam and colby's friends

you liked them but they sometimes including colby didnt understand your jokes or references. it sometimes pained you that you felt out of place around them.

you connected your speaker in the room that was given to you when you first moved to their house, and a song that reminded you of your dad started to play; its your dad's favorite song, and you couldn't control the sadness that flowed through your body

you spent a good two hours just crying and eventually calmed down but you were puffy eyed and your breathing was skipped

you sat up to recollect your self before colby came home and would come in your room, until another song started to play from your playlist, a heart wrenching song that reminded you of your beloved parents.

you started to cry again, you leaned back to the head board and clutched your body as you were singing to the lyrics

Colby came in the room all happy and giddy until he saw you crying

"oh my god! y/n are you okay? are you hurt? does something hurt?"

he was panicking trying to figure out why you were crying.

"no... nothings wrong" you got up quickly and turned around to wipe your face. he also got up to try to look at you but you kept avoiding him until he grabbed you face and made you look at him

"y/n.. somethings wrong, please just tell me"

"you wont understand" "just try me"

you mustered up the courage to tell him the truth. you looked at him and started to tear up again

"i-i just feel... i just started to feel homesick, thats all" colby was relieved that it wasnt anything life threatening

"oh, well why is that?"

"i dont know... i just miss home, like i really do. my family and friends, my culture and the food, everything" you looked at how he felt hurt about how you were talking about missing your family and friends.

"dont get me wrong, i love being here with you, you make being here so bearable but i just miss my people.. thats all" you half smiled

"no.. yeah i get that, is there anything i can do to make you feel better?"

"no its fine, i just need a couple minutes alone thats all"

"yeah yeah sure... ill be downstairs if you need me alright?"

you kissed him and hugged him tightly, feeling so safe in his arms.

"thank you, i love you"

"i love you too" he walked out and closed the door, feeling terrible that you felt that way, he wished he could do something about your homesickness

COLBY

as i walked back downstairs to sit with sam on the couch, he noticed my upset mood.

"Everything alright dude?" "uh.. yeah its just y/n is feeling homesick and sorta on the verge of going back home"

"oh shit dude, i definitely know what she's feeling" " do you think we've made her not feel at home? you think I haven't made her feel like home?" " i mean we haven't really done anything to make her feel at home"

"shit dude youre right, we haven't, i feel like the worst boyfriend ever. cant even make my girlfriend feel loved or feel like this is her home"

i started to think about ways to make her feel at home, i can cook her favorite food? no its too late for that, its almost 8

"what should i do sam?" "how about you take her to the other side of LA, take her some place authentic, not might be like where she's from but its the closest thing we got"

"yeah yeah you're right, let me go tell her!"

i ran upstairs and came up to her door, softly knocked to let her know i was coming in, she was still there in bed listening to her spanish music.

"hey y/n.. how you holding up?" "hi.. im doing alright, still trying to get my breathing under control" she let out a dry giggle

i caressed her face admiring her glossy eyes and her stained cheeks, leaning down to kiss her on her forehead, " i was thinking-" she sat up "what were you thinking"

"how about i take you out to eat some place special?" "ehh im not in the mood to eat colby" "no cmon i know a place, trust me"

Y/N

he looked at me with pleading eyes, "sure why not"

"alright get reading in ten minutes" "okay" you smiled and got up to get ready, he left the room to let you get dressed

you wore some ripped jeans with your white Mexico world cup jersey, and some black platform converse. added some mascara and some lip balm before leaving you grabbed your purse

you went downstairs and was greeted by colby waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. "hey y/n!"

"hey sam"

"you ready to go babe?"

"yes of course!"

"but before we leave i need you to put this on"

he was holding a blindfold, you looked at him confused and he went behind you to put the blindfold on, you were about to protest before he kissed your cheek and wrapped the blindfold around your eyes

"alright lets go, bye sam!"

you headed out the door, stumbling trying to remember all the steps to get to the car, colby opened the car door and helped you inside.

"was the blindfold really necessary?" "yeah babe, i want to surprise you"

"it wont really be a surprise if we go to in n out" he laughed at the assumption

"how about i put some music on?" "hmm yeah okay" colby connected his phone to the car's bluetooth and a song you recognized easily came on. you started to sing along to song. Colby created a playlist on your favorite spanish-speaking songs. He had to stalk your public Spotify playlist to be able to create the playlist.

"omg i love this song!!" you started to sing the song, pointing the lyrics to Colby not knowing how much of a distraction you are creating for him on the road.

still with the blindfold on you continue to sing all the songs that played, surprised how many spanish songs kept coming on

"omg how do you know these songs?!" "did you stalk my spotify?" you let out a laugh, "gosh y/n no I didn't" yes he did

you laughed at him, knowing well that this is from your playlist, or you thought it was just your playlist he started to play.

"are we there yet?" "no"

"are we there yet now?" "almost"

"what about now?" "actually yeah we are"

"why did it take you so long to drive to in n out if its only a 15 minute drive from the house?"

as you heard opening his side of the door, he rushed over to open your door, "well babe, we arent actually at in n out"

confused, wondering where else he would have taken you

"well.. where are we-" you started to smell the char smell of meat... taco meat.

"omg it smells so good.. where are we..?"

"well let me cross you over the street to find out" "what?"

you started to take off the blindfold until he stopped you, "ah ah ahh, no taking this off yet until i say so" "omg colby where are we"

he guided you across the street, smelling everything. it smelled like home almost, you started to hear the steam of a grill and the music that you grew up listening to. Hearing chatter among people.. in spanish?

"colby... where are we?"

colby finally let go of you and starting to take the blind fold off of you, you adjust to the light and rubbing your eyes a bit to clearly see the scene.

taqueros and vendedores making and selling snacks and meals. hearing them laugh, sing, and speak spanish.

"oh my god.." you said under your breath looking all over, small tears start to well up. "colby.. what is this?"

"i felt really bad that you were feeling homesick, and i hate seeing you cry, so i thought maybe i try to bring home to you... I know this isnt exactly home but i love you so much that i would do anything for you and to show you how much you mean to me, i dont want you to go home, i want to always make you happy y/n"

your tears finally fell, you fully realized how special and loving colby was, you felt so warm and loved.

"Colby... this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, you have no idea how much this means to me, and for you to actually consider this idea really brings me to tears, i am so completely in love with you"

you grabbed his head and kissed him, deepening the kiss and full engulf his lips. you let go and admire his big beautiful eyes.

"gosh.. well cmon lets eat something, what kind of tacos do you want babe?" "ehh i have no clue what to get, everything looks so good, how about you order me something"

you smiled at him, wondering how did you get so lucky to have someone so special such as colby brock

you turned over to the taquero and smiled at him, the man smiling back at you and asking what you what would you like to eat.

[serenelystrange]

Rated G

At AO3, or under the cut!

“Oh, I am going to murder the new guy,” Buck hisses under his breath.

Taylor looks up from the paperwork on her newest sale with an arched eyebrow and sighs.

“He’s literally just doing his job, Buckley. Like I’m trying to and like you should be.”

“He stole her right from under me!”

“You mean he smiled at her when she walked in, and she made a beeline to him?” Taylor asks, smirking.

“Oh, Eddie, what a handsome boy you are! My granddaughter would love you!” Buck mocks in an irritated whisper.

“Buck,” Taylor sighs. “I know you have an appointment in ten minutes that you haven’t printed anything for. And I also know that you’re just jealous you aren’t the only pretty boy on the block anymore.”

“I’m not a pretty boy,” Buck says, pouting prettily.

“Go away and let me finish this,” Taylor says. “You’re never going to win that contest if you spend all your time whining about how Eddie is better at his job than you.”

“Oh, I’m winning that SUV,” Buck says darkly. “It’ll be the best wedding gift for Maddie and Chim, especially with the baby coming.”

“You know,” Taylor muses dryly, “If you’d been even half this determined in our relationship, we probably would have dated more than two months.”

“Low blow, Tay,” Buck scoffs. “Low blow.”

Taylor just glares.

“Ok, ok, I’m going!”

He hurries off to the back to print the welcome packet for his next appointment, the image of Eddie’s annoyingly charming smile burned into his brain.

“What’s that for you, Diaz?” Buck asks as they’re all headed out for the night. “Two today?”

Taylor looks between them for a moment before rolling her eyes and striding for the door, leaving Buck to his weird one-sided pissing contest.

“I’ve told you to call me Eddie,” Eddie says calmly, ignoring the baiting tone. “You know that. And it was three, actually. Mrs. Allen bought that little red Nissan for her husband’s birthday.”

“I hope they get full coverage,” Buck says, frowning at the memory of Mr. Allen test-driving a few of their cars previously.

Eddie laughs and shakes his head, remembering the same day. “I hope she makes him go to the optometrist.”

Buck smiles for a moment before remembering he’s annoyed at the man, and scowls again.

“I’m still going to win that contest,” he says. “You’re good, but I’m in the lead.”

Eddie just gives him an unphased look and shrugs easily.

“There’s still two weeks left, Evan,” he drawls. “I guess we’ll see who comes out on top.”

He holds the door open for Buck as they leave, biting back the amused grin that wants to spread onto his face as Buck stomps out the door like he has his own personal raincloud hovering above his head.

“Drive safe,” he calls out to Buck’s retreating form, just like he does every other night.

And just like every other night, Buck ignores him.

Buck spots them coming in a few days later, an easy sale if he’s ever seen one, and speedwalks as inconspicuously as possible to the door. An older but stunning Hispanic woman looks around as she enters, a young boy moving along with the aid of arm-crutches by her side.

“Welcome!” Buck says as he approaches, giving her his sunniest smile. He waves down at the boy. “Hey, buddy. You look a little young to be buying a car already!”

The boy giggles, looking up at Buck with bright blue eyes beneath his red plastic eyeglasses.

“I’m not buying a car,” he says, somewhat stiltedly but clear. “I’m here for my dad.”

“Oh?” Buck asks, straightening back up and looking at the woman. “Who’s dad? I can track him down for you.”

“I think we’ll be ok,” the woman says warmly, looking over Buck’s shoulder at someone. “He found us.”

Buck turns, and just barely stops himself from scoffing. Because of course it’s Eddie.

“Tia?” Eddie asks, with a concerned look. “Is everything ok?” He holds his arms out for his son and scoops the boy up, swinging him around until he shrieks before holding him against his side with one arm.

Buck narrowly dodges one of the swinging crutches, but finds he can’t be mad when the kid looks so happy.

Tia relays something to Eddie in rapid Spanish that Buck can’t really keep up with, his limited Spanish language skills stalling out after basic bar talk. But he knows the words for both hospital and grandmother, and he’s frozen in place awkwardly as Eddie’s face darkens with worry.

They seem to be arguing about something now, and Buck still doesn’t understand most of it, so he busies himself by making silly faces at the boy, who also doesn’t seem to be getting most of the conversation. The boy is too old to play peekaboo, but he still makes silly faces back, laughing as Buck pulls out his old party trick of wiggling his ears.

“Buck,” Eddie says, and Buck startles, looking over at him sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he says. “I was just goofing around.”

“No, it’s fine,” Eddie says, looking harried. “My abuela fell off her porch, and I need to get to the hospital. Do you think you could take my last two appointments for the day?”

“Don’t you want to reschedule?” Buck asks before he can help himself. “You’ll lose the commission.”

“I don’t have time to call them right now,” Eddie sighs, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “I need to tell Bobby I have to leave, and might need a few days off, too.”

Buck wavers, looking at the clock on the wall, knowing he has nearly a full hour until his next appointment is even there, and knowing Taylor will be more than happy to snag any walk-ins that come their way.

“Get me the names,” Buck says, finally. “I’ll call them and reschedule for a week out if they’re up for it. You talk to Bobby and then go take care of your family, man.”

“Wait, really?” Eddie asks, stunned. “I’m basically handing you two sales here.”

“Are you complaining?” Buck asks, only a little testily.

Eddie shakes his head and hands his son off to his aunt before clapping Buck on the shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I’ll grab the sheets when I’m in the back office.” “I’ll be right back,” he says to his aunt, leaving her and his son standing with Buck.

“I’m Buck,” he says, giving them a little wave.

“Pepa,” the woman introduces herself, before jiggling the little boy. “And this little man is Christopher.”

“Nice to meet you,” Buck says. “I, uh, I didn’t know Eddie had a kid.”

“My nephew can be private,” Pepa says. “Annoyingly so, sometimes,” she adds with a resigned sigh. “But Christopher is his world.”

“I’m sure,” Buck says, smiling at the adorable boy. “I bet you’re what, twelve years old?” he asks with a completely straight face.

That sets the boy off into giggles as he shakes his head. “I’m seven!” he says.

“Well, you fooled me!” Buck says, grinning.

“Come on, Mijo,” Eddie says as he gets back to them, taking him from Pepa and giving Buck another appreciated nod along with his contact sheet as they head off.

“Thanks again, Buck,” he says, and Buck just waves them off, feeling suddenly wrong-footed and not sure why.

Buck is surprised when Eddie is back the next day, and even more surprised when he spots Christopher beside him. He watches from the break room counter as Eddie gets the kid set up at one of the tables with assorted snacks and an ipad, before speaking to him quietly and kissing him on the head as he straightens up and meets Buck’s eyes.

Buck, caught staring, manages a strained smile and takes a long and very hot sip of his coffee to avoid having to speak. Unfortunately, Eddie heads for him anyway, facing the counter as he pours himself a cup of coffee. Buck suddenly regrets standing so close to the damn thing, as he can practically touch Eddie’s arm with his own.

“Thanks again for yesterday,” Eddie says quietly. “Bobby said Chris could hang out here until I get a better babysitter situation for the rest of the summer.”

“No problem,” Buck says. “It’s good that you’re back. I’d hate to win the sales contest by default.”

“Liar,” Eddie says with an amused scoff. “You’d still love it.”

“Yeah, well,” Buck says, fighting off a grin. “It wouldn’t be as fun as winning fair and square.”

“You know,” Eddie says with a growing grin. “I bet the soccer moms would love to see how well their Chris-sized kids fit in the minivans…”

“Cheater!” Buck gasps. “You can’t use an adorable face to sell cars for you!”

“Why?’ Eddie laughs, “you do it all the time. I’ve seen those little old ladies literally pinch your cheeks.”

“Better than my ass,” Buck says, cringing as he thinks about the hassling Taylor has dealt with since she joined up. “Tay kicked a guy right in the balls once though, before you were here. It was great. He threatened to sue.”

“How’d that go?” Eddie asks, delighted.

“Bobby dragged him over by his ear to watch the security footage of him grabbing Tay, and told him if he ever stepped foot in the building again, he’d have his wife arrest him.”

“Damn,” Eddie says with appreciation. “Nice.”

One week before the contest ends, Buck checks the board in Bobby’s office, finding that Eddie is just one sale away from tying his lead. He glares at the board for a long moment, as if the smudged white plastic somehow made the numbers up instead of just recording them. Shaking his head, he decides he needs more coffee before he can deal with the day.

“Hi Buck!” Chris calls out from his usual place in the breakroom as Buck walks in, waving at him excitedly.

“Hey, buddy,” Buck says, heading over to the table and sitting down across from Chris. “What are you working on?”

“Paint-by-numbers,” Chris says, frowning down at his ipad, stylus in hand. “It’s to try and help my motors.”

Buck watches him fondly as he swipes with the stylus with determination, worrying his lip in concentration.

“You mean your fine-motor skills, maybe?” Buck asks.

“Yeah,” Chris nods, “that was it.”

“Your dad with a customer?” Buck asks, realizing the room is empty besides the two of them and wondering where Eddie had vanished off to.

Chris shakes his head, still looking down at his ipad.

“He’s on the phone outside,” he says, looking up briefly to give Buck a sad look. “He doesn’t want me to hear him yell at the army people again.”

“Army people?” Buck asks.

“He got hurt in a war,” Chris says. “So they made him come home, and now he’s angry at them all the time.”

“Oh,” Buck says, quietly. He doesn’t know the whole story, sure that Eddie will have given Chris only the abridged, child-friendly version, but it’s enough to make him frown in thought. “Well, I know he’s happy to be back with you, even if he’s angry at the army.”

“Maybe,” Chris says, shrugging without looking up, and Buck feels his heart breaking for the kid.

Eddie reappears in the break room before Buck can say anything else, face flushed red with irritation that he’s trying to smother as he heads towards his son.

“How’s it going, baby?” he asks Chris, a forced lightness to his voice as he peers down at the ipad painting.

“The leaves are tricky,” Chris frowns. “They’re really small.”

“Just do your best,” Eddie says, ruffling his hair. “It’s ok if you can’t do everything all at once.”

“That’s a good lesson,” Buck says, ostensibly to Chris, but starting right up into Eddie’s surprised brown eyes.

Eddie drops his gaze, avoiding Buck’s eyes, and pretends to watch Chris painting until Buck finally looks away.

“No Chris today?” Buck asks the next day when Eddie shows up alone.

“Pepa has the day off,” Eddie says. “So he’s hanging out in his pajamas on her couch instead of at one of our shitty lunch tables.”

“They are so wobbly,” Buck agrees.

Eddie hums, heading to the back room to grab the paperwork for his first appointment. Buck follows before he realizes what he’s doing, and leans against the wall by the printer as Eddie waits for his documents.

“Chris said something about the army yesterday,” Buck says, “you got hurt?”

Eddie sighs tiredly but nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “Fucked up my shoulder pretty bad, among other things.”

“Shit,” Buck says. “I’m sorry.”

“At least I made it home,” Eddie shrugs with forced nonchalance. “Now if only the VA would actually help me with the kid they made me leave. That would be great.”

“Is Chris ok?” Buck asks with concern. “He told me he has C.P. but he seems basically alright, all things considered.”

“He’s great,” Eddie assures him. “He just needs to find a school that will actually be able to accommodate him and still give him a decent education. And that shit is so expensive.”

“And the VA doesn’t have any resources?” Buck guesses, frowning.

“They might,” Eddie says with a sigh. “But I’m so overwhelmed with it all, between the move from Texas, and finding a place for me and Chris, and starting this job, I just now started the process.”

“You’re from Texas??” Buck asks, incredulously. “How has that never come up?”

Eddie shrugs.

“No offense,” he says, “but you’ve pretty much hated me from the day I started. I didn’t think you’d want to compare backstories.”

“Oh,” Buck says, feeling all at once like an absolute buffoon. “I don’t hate you,” he says.

“Then what was with the attitude?” Eddie laughs, as the printer finally finishes collating his papers.

“It’s dumb,” Buck says, ducking his head. “But I was just jealous you swooped in here with your stupid pretty face and stole all my customers.”

“You know,” Eddie says, “Taylor did tell me you were just jealous, but I didn’t believe her.”

“I get too caught up in competition sometimes,” Buck says, sighing.

“Little bit, maybe,” Eddie says nodding. “So, you uh, you think I’m pretty?”

“Oh, we are not having this conversation,” Buck says, pushing himself off the wall and fleeing, leaving an amused Eddie laughing after him as he goes.

“Did I ever tell you about my ex, Abby?” Buck asks the next day he finds Eddie alone at the front desk. It’s a slow day, and Chris has managed to pull Taylor and Ravi into a spirited game of Go Fish in the breakroom.

“You barely spoke to me for the first two months I worked here,” Eddie says, giving him a sassy look. “So no, you haven’t told me about your ex.”

“She was a little older than me,” Buck says. “Was taking care of her mom before she died, and it was really rough on her, you know?”

“I’m sure,” Eddie says, the question of but what does this have to do with anything clear in his tone.

“It didn’t work out,” Buck says, surprised to realize it doesn’t sting as much as it used to when he says it. “But I did meet this really great woman because of her.”

“Ok?” Eddie asks, amused but still lost.

“I think you should call her,” Buck says, handing Eddie a mint green business card.

“I’m not looking for a girlfriend, Buck,” Eddie says, glaring at the card with an inordinate amount of offense, in Buck’s opinion.

“Don’t worry,” Buck says earnestly, “she’s married.”

“What is happening here?” Eddie asks with exasperation.

“She was their home health aide,” Buck explains. “She calls herself ‘red tape’s worst enemy’”, “and I bet she can get you and Chris the help you need with his school before your head explodes.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, looking up at Buck with badly disguised wonder. “You really think she can help?”

“Definitely,” Buck says, grinning. “She’s a miracle worker.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Eddie hesitates for a moment before pulling Buck into a brief one-armed hug. “Thank you.”

“It’s uh,” Buck stammers, face flushing, “it’s nothing.”

Eddie shakes his head and claps Buck on the shoulder, leaving his hand there as he looks at him for a long moment.

“For Chris?” Eddie says, squeezing Buck’s shoulder, “this is everything.”

The bells on the door chime as a customer walks in, breaking the moment, and Buck takes the opportunity to escape to the bathroom.

Eddie can take the sale.

“You were right,” Eddie says, as Buck opens his apartment door and looks at him with bleary eyes. “It wasn’t nearly as fun to win that SUV by default.”

Buck groans, wondering how Eddie even found out where he lives, but moves back to let him in.

“It’s not my fault I got a stupid awful cold in the middle of August,” Buck sighs. “Corporate should take sick days into account.”

“Probably,” Eddie agrees, handing Buck a round Tupperware container that’s still warm. “Tia Pepa made it, it’s chicken soup.”

“You brought me soup?” Buck asks, feeling inexplicably like he might cry at the gesture. “You don’t even like me.”

“I never didn’t like you!” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. “Your beef with me was entirely one-sided!”

“Don’t be mean to me,” Buck whines, “I’m sick.”

“Lucky for you, I’m a pro at dealing with sick babies,” Eddie teases, leading Buck towards the couch he spots. “Sit down, I’ll find you a spoon.”

Buck tries to glare at him on principle but finds he doesn’t have the strength. Instead he lets himself be guided to the couch and settles down, tucking his bare feet up under his criss-crossed legs and securing the couch blanket around his shoulders.

“Chris says thank you, by the way,” Eddie says from the kitchen where he’s opening random drawers to look for spoons. “For the new car.”

“Hmm?” Buck asks, tired brain failing to understand what Chris has to do with the contest.

“My old car is on it’s last legs,” Eddie explains, “and even with our discount, I wasn’t going to be able to get anything better or bigger anytime soon. But the SUV holds his security seat and gives him plenty of room to stretch out his legs.”

“I didn’t know that,” Buck says. “You should’ve told me before.”

“I didn’t want you to lose on purpose,” Eddie says as he walks over and hands Buck the spoon before settling down on the other end of the couch. “A pity win is even worse than a win by default.”

“I wouldn’t have lost on purpose,” Buck says, the lie obvious even to his own ears.

“Sure, bud,” Eddie says, smirking. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“I hate you,” Buck groans. He takes a careful spoonful of the soup and hums happily. “But I love this soup. I guess it evens out.”

“I can live with that,” Eddie says, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “So, what are we watching?”

Buck shrugs and pulls the Tupperware bowl up to his mouth to sip from directly, breathing in the steamy goodness.

Eddie can figure out the rest.

“Why didn’t Taylor win, anyway?” Eddie asks when Buck is recovered and back at work. “She’s killing it out there.”

“Tay goes for the high-priced sales,” Buck says. “Luxury cars and stuff. She’s good at it, and she definitely makes more money than both of us. But the contest was for the most individual sales, not the overall sales amount.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Eddie laughs. “Chris loves the car, he wanted to camp out in it the other night.”

“Adorable,” Buck says, fondly. “But not great for anyone over five feet tall.”

“I told him I’d take him camping before school starts,” Eddie says casually. “Next weekend maybe.”

“That’s cool,” Buck says. “You’ll have to make smores! It’s tradition.”

“Is that what you did with your family?” Eddie asks, looking concerned when Buck’s expression shutters for a moment.

“My parents aren’t really the family activities type,” Buck says. “But Maddie, my older sister, she would camp out with me in the backyard, and we’d make smores and tell ghost stories.” He smiles at the memory, despite it all. “She’s really great.”

“Maybe you could come with us?” Eddie asks, almost shyly. “We can make smores and roast hot dogs. Chris is excited to build the fire.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks, “I wouldn’t be in the way?”

Eddie shakes his head, giving Buck a soft smile.

“Not at all,” he says, “you should definitely come.”

Buck smiles again, feeling the blush creeping all the way up to his hairlines, but nods in agreement.

“Can’t wait.”

“I can’t believe it’s nearly Christmas,” Buck says as they’re leaving one Friday night, he and Eddie locking up as they go. “Not that it ever gets cold enough to snow here.”

“L.A. cant even handle rain,” Eddie says as they head to the employee lot, “we don’t need them trying to drive in snow.”

“Truth,” Buck agrees, shuddering at the idea.

They make it to the cars that are parked side by side, each pulling out their keys before facing each other.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Buck asks, knowing full well that Eddie has been planning their planetarium trip for literal weeks.

“Obviously,” Eddie says, grabbing Buck’s shirt collar and tugging him in for a sweet kiss.

“Drive safe,” he says, like he has every other night.

Buck steals one last kiss for the night, laughing against Eddie’s lips as he finally says it back.

The End

Notes:

Honestly, what am I even doing with my life? ^_^

[decaffeinatedtragedygentlemen]

Some modern assassin head cannons because I just finished replaying AC2

Desmond is at least half Hispanic (because I am) and can Speak Spanish almost fluently. He will cuss people out in Spanish without them realising and struggles with Ezio’s bleeding effects because Italian is similar Spanish

Desmond has ear piercings AND YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE, I MEAN LOOK AT HIS INSPIRATION- FRANSISCO RANDEZ

Desmond is definitely Bi *remembers when his voice actor Nolan North wanted Deadpool to be into dudes in that one game*

Desmond has been fired from multiple jobs (not just bartending) this means he can do a lot of random (useless) shit

Desmond has ADHD

Shaun and Altaïr have Autism

no one knows if Shaun is gay or not and he likes to keep it a mystery (he has no idea either)

Lucy is definitely the only straight one in the modern gang

Since Shaun has very punk ideologies, I like to think he used to dress that way as a teen (healed over ear piercings)

Most of Shaun’s family is definitely dead, you can’t snoop about in an all powerful, secret organisation and not have severe consequences.

Rebacca had a German Mastiff or a Rottweiler

Desmond’s eyes reflect light in the dark (like a cat) after he unlocked the ability to use eagle vision

Desmond is a shit drawer

Desmond has very himbo/caveman energy

no one knows if Lucy is a natural blonde and she likes to keep it that way

Once Shaun got really fed up with the rest of them and they all heard Limp Bizkit blasting from his room

Desmond would definitely listen to Chappell Roan (femininomenon and good luck, babe!)

Shaun had an aneurysm when Desmond told him he’s never watched Star Wars

Desmond has never celebrated Christmas (his father probably thought that holidays were a waste of time)

[small-world-au]

Sora Aguilar

———INCOMING BIG ASS POST———

Actual name: ???? Aguilar Yuki

Age: Same as the main trio

Personality type: ISFP

Ethnicity: Asian (Japanese) & Hispanic (Mexican) <- updated

Hair color/type: Dark purple (tho it looks like dark brown.) straight-curly

Eye color: light blue (beta) brown (officially)

Skin color: super light tan/dark pink

Gender: Male

Family: Natalia Aguilar (maternal grandmother)

Gabriela Aguilar (Mother 🪦)

Shino Yuuki (Father 🪦)

Dante (Stepfather)

Noelia Aguilar (Maternal aunt🪦)

Unknown (Maternal uncle)

Rowena Pagonis (Older half sister🪦)

Kip Aguilar Stone (biological son)

Stone (childhood sweetheart/husband)

Friends: Bailey, Jasper, Finn, Skipp, Zaria, Vinnie, pebble, maggot, Bailey’s kittens, Finn’s rat babies, old man Howard, Maroon, Olive, Ray, Rui, Maple, Chris, Zaria, Charlie, and Allay

Neutral: Tre, Rigel & cen, karma, Doña Mari, and Ivan Franzwick

Enemies: Fritz (the butler), ditch, Nadia (personal reasons), Jay, arrogant lootbags, street gangs, and AVRILLE!!!!

LIKES

Books

Sewing

Baking

Poetry

Cute animals

Stone

Spending time with friends/family

Exploring

Springtime

Food!!!

Caring for the young

DISLIKES

SHOESSSSS!!!!

Rude/whiny scraps & loot-bag

Leaving kip behind

Being treated as a 🏆

Discrimination

Art/writing block

Not being good enough

Disappointing his family

Leaving Stone and friends

Obsessive creeps

His dad and avrille

His beloved ones getting hurt

Being unable to help/being useless

Thunderstorms

Arguments

Street fights

Being cooped inside for too long

Sora Aguilar is one of the main character of my au. A sweet, gentle, and kindhearted young man filled with curiosity, who would do anything for the sake of his friends and family, even if it means sacrificing his own needs and wants.

He is Rowena’s younger half-brother, Gabriela’s and Shino’s only son, Natalia’s grandson, and Noelia’s nephew.

He’s a close friend to the scraps and a mom-friend who cherishes his own group dearly. He is also Stone’s childhood best friend/sweetheart.

He and his puppy (Kip) lived happily (???) in their mansion, until they wake up one night inside a big bag that was left on the streets of ramshackle.

Edit: ABOUT DAMN TIME I DID THIS SHIT!!!!!!!

Update 2: Sora’s now half Mexican!

Why? Cuz am Mexican.

Update 3: references and other ocs from “small world” au!

More facts below!!!!

[simplydozing]

¡𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬 𝐚 𝐁𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐫!

Cardinal Copia x Hispanic!Reader You teach Copia Some new moves. Word Count: 763 || Blurb/Ficlet

A/N: This Was Self-Indulgent As Hell. I Took Heavy Inspiration From Teaching My Friend The Same Dance (Half Hispanic Gang Rise Up!). Love Her, But She's Got Two Left Feet 😭 Plus, I Know For A Fact Copia/Papa/Frater Would Without A Doubt Kill This Dace, Hands Down. ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

“Try not to think about it too hard, Cope.”

You were shifting from side to side, matching the rhythm of the current song that played. Copia was trying to bounce on his feet like the way you showed him, but it looked like he was just changing which leg to stand on.

 He had heard you from a few rooms over and wanted to see what the commotion was, only to find you twirling and bouncing around with your arms out pretending to have a partner. He watched you with eyes the size of dinner plates. You moved kind of like he does on stage, but there was more to it than that.

 It looked quite fun, and you were shocked when he decided to ask you to teach him to dance.

 Yet for him to pirouette and leap like a ballerina, he was surprisingly stiff.

“Here, mira,” you walk to the other side of the room.

“Walk to me, but stay on beat,” you hold your arms out.

 He hesitates, taking a second to feel the music. His feet match up perfectly to the music when he walks.

“Good! Now backwards, bend your knees and shift your hips.”

You take him by the hands and lead him back to the other side, demonstrating what he’s supposed to be doing.

 He mirrors you, albeit a little more awkward looking. He is starting to loosen up, though.

“Now, put it all together with a few small jumps and spins in between,” you hold him by his waist and his other outstretched hand.

 You take it slow, going back and forth in a line until he copies you entirely.

 You speed it up little by little. He finds it unbelievable how quick he’s learning this, and gives a small laugh.

“I’m doing it!”

“You’re doing it!” You repeat.

 Seeing him finally get the basics of it makes you excited. You pull him closer, now being chest-to-chest. Your knee finds a spot between his legs. You can feel him tense under your touch. He swallows nervously.

“Now, ready for the fun part?”

He shakes his head but you shrug it off.

  “Just follow my lead. We’re going to go fast, okay? It’s much easier with a partner, for me anyway,” you prepare him for what’s about to go down. You decide to be generous and wait for the next song, currently tapping your foot and nodding your head to the beat of the finishing one.

 You start dancing when the next one plays. And lucky you! It’s your favorite song to dance to.

 The beat is easy to follow, but it’s still fast-paced. You both twirl around the room. He actually adjusts to it pretty well and goes along with you and the rhythm! His body meshes with yours almost flawlessly.

 Your favorite part is coming up. You slow everything down and dance in place, bracing Copia for what comes next.

“Here comes the best part!”

 You spin one more time, stopping afterward to dig your knee further between his legs when the climax of the song rises.

“Shake it, Copia!”

 You rock your leg to set the pace for him to roll his hips.

 He’ll do anything involving him swinging them. He lights up as he does so, once again to the rhythm of the song. He looks in your eyes with pride when it’s over. You beam up at him.

 You end the dance by dipping him.

 You’re both breathless.

 There’s a sense of fulfillment overfilling you. You’ve never been able to dance with someone the way you danced with Copia just now. You’ve never had a dance partner unlike him, and he’s just learning.

 In the moment, you forget all about how you’re holding him.

 He gives your arm a squeeze, bringing you back to reality.

 You clear your throat and lift him up.

 He brushes himself off and you turn the music off.

“That was…marvelous!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Can I use this at my next show?”

“Ha! You can if you redo what you did but with better footwork,” you smirk and jokingly slap his chest.

 You both share a laughing fit before leaving the space.

“By the way, what do you call that?”

“Huapango!”

He started using it on stage after the encores when everything was done and the audience was clearing out. He’d even rope his ghouls into it, mainly Sodo or Phantom. They were understandably lost but somehow managed to keep up with him.

 And you better believe he asked you to teach them too.

[adrienneleclerc]

Little Bit of Food

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N sees a TikTok video of couple where the women serves her partner more food on his plate than on hers. For research purposes, she just wants to see how he would react.

Warning: no translated Spanish, spelling and grammar errors, SHORT

A/N: since I am Mexican and Peruvian, the foods mentioned are typical foods that I grew up eating, I LOVE these foods so much, if any other Latine readers have suggestions of what dishes should be mentioned, comment below and I’ll tag you when I use them in another one shot. Also, sorry if it’s short, I don’t think I can build off a lot of “story material” over a TikTok trend, you know?

Y/N was watching TikTok and she saw a video that was interesting to her.

It was of a couple and a woman served her husband more food on his plate than on her own. The husband insisted that his wife should have more food and that he could eat something later.

Y/N knew that Henry was going to busy at the gym for a few hours so that gave her plenty of time to make one of Henry’s favorite meals that Y/N introduced him to, and that’s bistec a lo pobre. She bought sliced New York steaks from the Mexican grocery store (there’s always a butcher there), also some tortillas and 2 avocados to make guacamole or a sandwich later. When she went back to Henry’s house, she started cutting up tomatoes and onions so it would give the steak flavor. She put the onions and tomatoes aside in a bowl and got out the white rice in the pantry to wash the rice.

Half an hour later, Henry was came through the door sweaty and with a happy Kal.

“Ay hola, Kal, como te fue con tu papi, hm?” Y/N asked, kneeling to pet Kal.

“You call me papi?” Henry asked, drinking water from his sports bottle.

“When I’m talking about you to Kal, yes. Ain’t no way I’m calling you that though, it’s weird because I call my actual dad, papi. So don’t even think about it.” Y/N warned Henry as she washed her hands in the kitchen sink.

“Too late, I’m already thinking about, my lady.” Henry said, kissing her cheek as he hugged her from behind.

“Stop it. I’m making your favorite so please take a quick shower and then I’ll call you when it’s ready. Do you want one or two eggs?” Y/N asked.

“Two please, thanks love.” Henry said, kissing her lips before heading upstairs for his shower.

Y/N began sautéing the onions and tomatoes in the pan before adding in two pieces of steak for Henry, we’ll, one and a half, she cut a half piece for her plate. She got a plate out of the pantry to serve two ‘scoops’ of rice, adding the cooked steaks with tomatoes and onions on top of it, and preceded to fry two eggs on a different pan.

“Toro, food!” Y/N shouted and Kal calming running. “I said ‘toro’, not ‘oso’, you need to practice your Spanish, Kal.” Y/N said and placed Henry’s plate on his side of the table. Henry came running downstairs with his hair wet but he’s dressed in some shorts and a t-shirt.

“Thanks love, it looks amazing.” Henry said, kissing her.

“That’s good, now eat up, you’ve had a long workout.” Y/N said and that’s when she got a smaller plate, served herself a half scoop of rice, her half steak with 3 pieces of tomatoes and onions, and no eggs. When she sat down and said “let’s eat”, Henry looked at Y/N’s plate, then at his own.

“Darling, were you snacking while you were cooking again?” Henry asked, trying to find a reasonable explanation for the lack of food on his girlfriend’s plate.

“No, no, I didn’t snack at all. Eat before the eggs become cold.” Y/N pointed at him with her fork.

“Are you sick? You didn’t have to cook if you weren’t feeling well, love.” Henry said in a concerned voice.

“I’m fine Henry, I went to Fernando’s market today but the steak was too expensive so I only bought 2.” Y/N lied, she buys like half a pound of steak, there’s still 3 or 4 pieces in the fridge. Henry got up and grabbed his keys. “Where are you going?”

“To the market to buy more steak, what cut do you order a again? Med-ee-ya Libra de what?” Henry asked, opening the door,

“No no no, Henry, there’s no need for that, I can survive without bistec, please sit down and eat.” Y/N said, Henry closed the door, put down his keys, and sat back down.

“What about the eggs or the rice? I’m sure you could fill up on that, you told me you ate that when you were younger when there was nothing to eat.” Henry said.

“The last eggs were used on you, Toro. Now please eat before your food gets cold. You want something to drink? I got chicha (It’s a purple corn drink) if you don’t want soda.” Y/N said.

“Yeah, that’s fine, darling.” Henry said, when Y/N walked into the kitchen, Henry switched his plate for Y/N’s. When Y/N came back with chicha for Henry and soda for her, she saw what Henry did.

“Toro! You weren’t supposed to do that. You had a big workout, you’re bigger than me, you need all the protein you can get from this.” Y/N said, trying to switch the plates back but Henry refused.

“Nope, you cooked all this, you deserve to eat your delicious food. I could find something later.” Henry said,

“But you must be hungry, just eat it, I can make myself some potato quesadillas later.” Y/N said, attempting to get the plate back from Henry but he swatted her hand. “Toro!”

“I’m sorry love, but it’s for your good.” Henry said.

“I Don’t want you to be starving,” Y/N said,

“I won’t starve, my love. Watching you enjoy your food is filling enough for me.” Henry said and Y/N’s heart melted. She got out of her seat to sit on Henry’s lag, placing her hands on his neck to hug him.

“Amor, it’s a prank. There’s more steak in the fridge that I can fry up, there’s a lot of rice on the stove and plenty of eggs. Now please eat while I go serve myself more food.” Y/N said getting off him and grabbing her plate to do exactly that.

“You scared me, love. I was about to head over to the market…where is it by the way?” Henry asked,

“Haha, i can’t even tell you, I just know how to get there.” Y/N said, placing her steak in the pan and she watched Henry eat his meal.

“Delicious! This might even be better than your bistec empanado, did I pronounce that right?” Henry asked,

“Yes you did, Toro, but bistec empanado with sopita aguada is comfort food, along with quesadilla de papas, which I will be making tomorrow, I’ve been craving it,” Y/N said.

“That sounds so good, I have to make sure I work out even more. When I made you my girlfriend, I had no idea you would try to fatten me up.” Henry said and Y/N gasped, flipping the steak.

“I would never, how dare you accuse me. I’m gonna make flan for my friend’s birthday on Saturday so I’m gonna make another one just for us.” Y/N said and that made Henry laugh.

“I love your flan, darling. Your cooking skills put mine to shame.” Henry said. Y/N placed her steak on her place, serving more rice, and began frying an egg.

“I was born with that sazón, Toro.” Y/N said teasingly. She finished frying the egg, served it on her plate, and went to sit down. “Better?” Y/n asked, showing Henry her plate.

“Much better, my lady.” Henry said, kissing her. Kal barked. “Yes bear, you can have some steak too.” Henry said,

The End

Taglist: @warriormirkwood

[ohmystaxk]

Goodbye, My Dear Stranger (1)

[NEXT]

Pairing(s): (Jake Lockley x Reader) (Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader later on) [Pre-Moon Knight show]

Content/Tags: CONTENT WARNINGS AND MORE WILL BE ADDED WITH EACH PART. Strangers to friends to lovers, coffee shop “au/trope”, reader only knows Jake and Steven at first, Marc and Steven are not yet aware of Jake, Jake loves coffee, reader is Hispanic coded, non-explicit voyeurism (not at first), Sexual Harassment, Slow burn, future smut.

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: It was an accident really, you never really tried to be nosey, yet you found your gaze shifting to the open windows of the apartment across the street from yours and so happened to have a perfect view into your neighbor’s home. There were no drapes to protect their privacy, so you would always be taking peeks in the middle of the night when you noticed a lamp staying on, a lonesome shadow pacing around, then sitting down for hours on end.

But you slowly found yourself falling into a routine. Leaving your lamp on during the night, opening your drapes and sitting down by the window as you work silently seemed normal until you noticed an addition to said unspoken routine between the two of you. That included a stranger starting to show up at your work to order coffee, always by himself, always quiet, and always seeming to be keeping an eye on you.

The last lock on your door turned with a soft click and the door swung open as you let yourself into your loft. The light from the corridor illuminated the space inside, your shadow casted by the doorway. Then you clicked the speaker on the phone as you closed the door behind you. Luckily you had let the kitchen light on, allowing comfort into the empty place, flickering the main light switch, bringing it to life.

“Did he actually fucking say that to you?” A voice spoke from the phone. You laughed at your best friend's tone, even from halfway across the world it was like they were on the brink of strangling someone. You leaned on the table as you started taking off your heels. “What a dickhead! You dressed all nice and looked amazing. And he called you a bitch for not sleeping with him!? What a fucking idiot!”

“Too bad. He was decent looking.” 

You heard an exaggerated gasp coming from your friend.

“It’s always the nice ones! Man can’t do shit right I swear!” They said and you shook your head with a smile, grabbing your phone and walking towards the kitchen.

“Thank you, seriously. But what can I expect? Man was full of himself, all talk about what he does and how much he travels. He barely let me speak at all and then he goes on and on about how he was hoping for something else after. We were halfway through the dinner and was asking me to fuck. I thought my profile was easy to read.” You said, your eyes fell on the brand new bottle of red wine sitting on the fridge door, your mouth suddenly felt dry to the promise of the liquor.

“Fuck him. Good thing he actually ended up showing his true colors rather than later into anything.” Your friend then sighed as you grabbed the bottle and closed the fridge. “Holy shit, can’t believe I woke up early for you. It’s about to be seven in the morning now. I should probably get out of bed now. Anyway, love you, go to bed now.”

“Or maybe open a nice bottle of red.” They laughed and there was a pause. 

“Of course, you could alway open that window of yours and give a little show.” This time you gasped with a laugh.

“Good morning to you!” 

“Come on! The dude might be hot.” You rolled your eyes with a half smile.

“Could be, but I will never know. He could also be somebody's grandfather.” Your friend let out a snort and that made you laugh again.

“You got me there. Good night then, enjoy that nice wine of yours.” They said and ended the call after you said your goodbyes.

You moved around your small kitchen, grabbing a wine glass and a corkscrew. After pouring yourself a generous amount, you brought the glass to your mouth and the bittersweet taste made you close your eyes. You needed this, especially after that god awful excuse of a date. You knew it was too good to be true.

After turning off the main light, you found yourself sitting on the beat up loveseat you had set up right next to your window. The small coffee table next to it held the book you had been reading for the past three nights. There was something about the scenery that made you feel like one of those movie scenes. A cozy moment of welcome solitude. As your fingers itched to reach for it, the corner of your eyes caught a light coming from across the street. 

A very familiar light.

Your eyes betrayed you and focused their attention towards your neighbor's window. The window that just happened to be within your direct line of sight. Your view inside was limited, but that didn’t prevent you from seeing your neighbor pacing around the dark space of their condo.

Truth be told, this wasn’t the first time your eyes had wandered to the window. The first time was a month ago. You had gotten tired of working from your bedroom and decided some natural lighting would benefit you. So, you placed a small table by the living room window. The same window you were looking out of now. 

It was an accident really, you had started to notice that, around the same time every night, your neighbor would come home, turn on a few lights, yet not all. Then they would sometimes pace around, you would always catch a glimpse of a shadow sitting down on a chair, next to what you could only guess were books stacked on top of each other.

Ever since then, you had worked on that table, or sat down on the loveseat as you read something. Every time, your eyes would catch whenever your neighbor would get up and do something else. You didn’t understand why observing what other people did fascinated you, but it did.

Your neighbor had once again walked past the window and this time they stood there, their back facing you for a second. You brought the wine glass up to your mouth as you tried picking up your book with your free hand. Just as you opened the book, your glass still in hand, you noticed their figure move away from the window and disappear from your view. But it didn't take long for something else to catch your attention. They were turning on the main light, and your eyes slightly widened at the sudden realization. They had the lights on, not a lamp, but the actual lights. 

Their window was opposite from their kitchen and you were right, you could see piles of books all over the space. Of course, your field of vision was minimal with such distance but the dark allowed for some visibility. Then, you saw him, walking towards the kitchen with his back towards you. Dark curly hair, tan skin, long nose and body tight black t-shirt. That was your neighbor from across the street, the same one you shared a view of downtown, the same one that seemed to always be sleepless.

You felt your glass start to slip from your grasp, but tightened your hold of it. He turned around to walk away for a second, and you almost jumped off the couch thinking he could see you.  Maybe it was the distance, but he seemed too young to be somebody’s grandfather. Definitely around his late thirties, maybe early forties. And your friend was right. He was hot.

He appeared back within view and you dumbly stared as he cooked something, moving through the kitchen with ease and confidence. You downed the entire glass and stood up. One glass would not be enough. 

You made your way to the kitchen and poured yourself more wine. Your eyes shifted to your window, they were still cooking. Your phone still sat next to the bottle, you grabbed it and started typing a text.

‘ Yeah, definitely not a grandpa.’ And pressed send. Not even a second later, your phone chimed.

‘Wait...YOU SAW HIM?’ As you were about to reply, you stopped. 

Your gut twisted. Something felt wrong. 

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you looked towards the window. Your neighbor was now standing by his window, looking directly your way. You stood there. The light of your phone illuminating your face, and the light of the lamp casting shadows on your body. Before you realized it, you found yourself on the floor, crouching down, still holding your phone. 

He had to have seen you. But you were nowhere near the window. He was still cooking when you'd last looked, there was no way he had seen you staring. Unless he stared back too.

‘I THINK HE JUST FUCKING CAUGHT ME!!’ You texted in a sudden panic.

You knew logically it was impossible for him to see you, with how much light he had on. But even then, the idea made you feel embarrassed, that he would realize a random person would be staring into his flat.

‘Ooh! You’re in troubleee!’ Your phone pinged and you saw the text.

‘No shit!’ You locked the phone and the screen went black.

You slowly stood up, your eyes trying to find the window. When you did, you were glad to see him back in the kitchen, continuing with what he was doing.

“I need to go to bed.” You said to yourself.

You stood up fully, closed the wine bottle, and put it back in the refrigerator. You went to the lamp, turning it off and then towards the main light switch, killing all the lights in the place. 

You stood there in the dark for a second. The moonlight washed the darkness and you felt your eyelids feel heavy. 

Of course, you knew watching strangers wasn’t the most moral thing to do. It was an invasion of privacy and if it was the other way around, it would freak you out. You had caught a glimpse of him, so now you could stop. You should stop.

And you will.

The doorbell rang, and two clients entered the coffee shop. You smiled at them as you placed down an order and called it out. You walked back to the register, wiping your hands on your apron. The clients seemed like a couple, standing shoulder to shoulder as they read the menu. As to look busy, you opted to observe the place.

There weren’t as many people tonight. Twelve people sat down with their drinks and baked goods. You were nearing closing time, about thirty minutes or so. The shop was owned by two women, one from Colombia and the other from Mexico who had seeked an opportunity to open a coffee shop and bakery with authentic pastries from their respective countries. 

The place was on the small side, but the decor made it seem spacious. It was a nice place, truly; an old accent brick wall while the rest were bone-white, hanging plants everywhere, thick wooden furniture, lots of frames with pictures of Mexico and Colombia. It was cozy, and aesthetically pleasing as some people that came in would often say. And not to forget how good a lot of the food was. Sadly it didn’t have much traffic, but had enough to pay the bills and have it standing.

“Excuse me, I was wondering, does the store carry any vegan options?” The question made you look at the girl. You politely answered that it in fact did and a few seconds later you were writing down on each cup their order and proceeded to prepare it. Today was only you, since Deanna had called in sick. The good thing was that it hardly got too busy for you to struggle by yourself. Although, whenever the Museum down the street got busy, the shop did too. Luckily tonight had not been the case, so you worked with ease, humming alongside the song playing in the shop.

Voy a navegar en tu puerto azul (I'm going to sail in your blue port)

Quisiera saber de dónde vienes tú (I’d like to know where you come from)

Vamos a dejar que el tiempo pare (Let's let time stop)

Ver nuestros recuerdos en los mares (See our memories in the seas)

Y esta soledad tan profunda (And this deep loneliness)

It had definitely been a good song for a slow night, made you feel like you were in a dream. Almost. Five minutes later, you were done with the couple’s order. You placed their pastries on two plates along with forks and spoons. You called out their order and walked back to the register. Your phone buzzed in your back pocket.

You pulled it out and saw a message from Deanna, asking if it had been busy during the night. Quickly, you sent her a reply telling her how it went, then asked how she was feeling. You put the phone back and opted to start cleaning around.

After cleaning three tables you went back to the prep station, where you wiped the counters with a towel. People started leaving after twenty minutes and five people remained seated. They seemed to be having a good time, but there were around ten more minutes until closing time. You had pretty much cleaned whatever you could without putting away much that could still be needed.

That was until the door bell rang, your eyes went towards the door. There stood a man who seemed rather out of place, in the sense that it seemed he had no idea why he had come in. You walked to the register with a polite smile.

“Welcome, feel free to look at our menu, unless you are ready to have your order taken.” You said and the man looked towards you. He had an Ivy cap on, something that was common for cab drivers to wear, perhaps he was one. Your smile faltered as you took in his features. 

Tan skin, long nose, dark hair, and around his late thirties. Of course this man could be anyone in London but he looked just like one man in particular. Your neighbor. The mysterious man from the window across the street, the same one you managed to catch a glimpse of just last night. Now, there he stood. He was in your shop now, standing there and goddamn did you hope your brain was playing tricks.

“I’ll take a look.” Was all he said after a second. That was not what you thought he would sound like. A close enough Brooklyn accent mixed with something else, something deep and rich. The kind of voice you would want to narrate an audiobook of your favorite romance book.

“Of course.” You said quieter than intended. He had barely looked at you. But, oh boy, were you staring. You looked at the table of five to distract yourself. They were deep in their conversation.

“Café de la Olla.” You snapped your head towards the man and frowned at him.

“Excuse me?” You felt dumb when he seemed to take in a breath, his brown eyes turning to yours. He looked tired, exhausted even.

“One Café de la Olla.” His Spanish was perfect. You heard no mispronunciation from that short sentence. That explained the accent you couldn’t quite place earlier.

“Of course. Yes, sir. So, it will be one Café de Olla. Anything else you would like?” When you said that, his eyes shifted to the display below the register, all the breads and pastries right there, waiting to be picked. Then his gaze shifted behind you, he frowned then.

“What does that mean?” He pointed behind you and your eyes followed. There was a chalkboard with the words ‘One medium drink and one cupcake of your choice for 10% off if you ask for SOTD!’

“Song of the day. We will recommend a song of our choosing from our shop playlist. I can write it down on the cup or on a napkin if that’s what you would prefer.” You explained and he stared at the words behind you for an awkward amount of time. You glanced back at the occupied table when you noticed someone standing up, immediately followed by the rest of the group.

“Napkin is fine.” He said. You looked back at him and nodded with a smile.

“Alright, do you have a specific cupcake in mind?” He looked down and then back at you.

“What do you like?” The question took you back for a second before you replied.

“Well, a couple, I have to admit. But Mrs. Cardenas makes the most delicious churros and chocolate mix. I guess that one is my favorite.” You smile genuinely when he seems to think it over.

“That one then.” He placed a hand on his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Before you could tell him the total, he dropped a bill two times the amount. “To go.” He then walked off and sat at the furthest table.

The group of five all started walking out of the shop, one of them thanked you for serving them, and proceeded to wish you goodbye. You grabbed the bill and put it to the side as you began to prepare the coffee. The music seemed quiet even though you knew, in reality, it was louder due to the silence between you and the man. You wanted to glance back, see if he was staring, since that was all you felt; a heavy gaze on you. 

After a few more minutes, you had everything ready to go. The coffee was all done, the cupcake in a small to-go box and inside a paper bag, and his change right next to them. You were placing some napkins when you remembered the song of the day offer. You grabbed the closest pen and wrote a song title on the napkin.

Solitud y el Mar by Natalia Lafourcade feat. Los Macorinos.

“Your order is ready.” You called out. And then the doorbell rang.

You turned to see two men walking in. One almost tripped while the other messily tried to keep both of them on their feet. You smiled apologetically at them as you leaned over the counter and closer to them in order to make sure they would be able to hear you.

“Hello. I’m sorry, but we are closing now.” They looked at you. They seemed to be around their mid twenties. The two bumped into each other and raised their eyebrows. 

You didn’t like that. Not at all.

“Seems pretty open to me, love.” His friend snorted at that.

“There’s our business hours by the door. We’re closed now.” You tried to be as polite as possible. However, they didn’t seem to get the message.

“Come on now! Can’t you just take our order? We’ll leave you a big tip.” The other said.

“Or two.” The first one continued and they laughed. You tried your best to remain calm.

You were so close to walking out right there and then.

“Sorry, but it’s store policy. You two have to go.” Once you said that, the second one walked up to the counter and leaned over, invading your personal space.

“She said it’s closed.” Another voice seemed to have caught him by surprise. Your assumed to be neighbor’s firm voice almost made you jolt. He was standing by your right side, now the two of you behind the counter. You noticed his jaw was clenched, the vein on his neck prominent. He had his eyes set on the two intruders.

“Where did you even come from, mate?” The second one asked, seemingly surprised he didn’t notice him when he walked in.

“She said it’s closed. So, you too better get the fuck out.” He placed his hand gently on your arm, pushing you away from the men and placing himself as a wall as if the counter wasn’t enough distance for his liking. The two men stared at him in disbelief,  but almost in a mocking way.

“Or what? We’re not leaving.” 

“You will, because I’m not allowing two hijos de puta talking like that to my wife and leaving unscathed.” Your eyes widened at that. You guessed that was one way to get them off your back.

“You’re married to this twat?” His friend slapped his chest, giving him a look to cut it off.

“The fuck you called me?” Your fake husband took two steps forward and yanked the guy by the collar, bringing him halfway across the counter. You reacted by grabbing the man’s bicep and squeezing it, your other hand laying flat on his back. The action seemed to remind him of your presence as he turned to look at you from over his left shoulder. The last thing you wanted right then was having to explain how three men had a fight inside the shop.

“We’re going, mate! Ain’t worth fighting over that.” The first one said to his companion as he eyed you. You scoffed at his comment. After a minute or so, your companion let go of the guy’s collar. With a little reluctance, the men left. 

You let out a deep breath, walking around the counter and towards the door, and  flipped the open sign to close.  

“¿Estás bien?” The man asked. You turned around to face him and you almost jolted backwards. (Are you okay?)

He was now standing close, a frown on his face, his eyes looked deep as he seemed to take in your features.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Thank you.” His frown deepened.

“¿Por qué?” You opened and closed your mouth. (What for?)

“For helping me, you didn’t have to.” He then laughed. A small and quick laugh but oh boy did you like the sound of it. 

“I sure did have to. Only a pussy would let others talk to a woman like that.” You almost laughed. Almost. Not only did he look pissed, he sounded upset as well. 

“Thank you, and I mean it. Sadly not many would actually do it. So, thank you.” You waited and then he seemed to understand.

“Jake.” It sounded good when he said it and you liked it. Definitely not a name you expected. But it fit him.

“Well, thank you, Jake.” You gave him a smile and he gave you a small one back. His eyes fell on the name tag on your apron and he sighed.

“I have to get back to work.” He said and you nodded.

“Of course. Your order is by the counter.” He nodded and walked towards his things, he grabbed them and walked back towards you.

“I’ll make sure they don’t stay around. Buenas noches, y gracias por el café.” With that he walked out.( Good night, and thanks for the coffee.)

You stood by the door as you watched Jake walk down the street until you could not see him anymore. You locked the door and made your way back to the kitchen. That was when you noticed the coins and bills still on the counter. “A big tip, huh?”

Add yourself in the taglist!

A/N: omg i am so excited to have written this! I had this little idea for a while and wanted finally to do it!! This is my first time writing a reader fic, especially in English so please do let me know of any possible errors!

[existentialcrisis-24-7]

Hi! What are your opinions on the leaks of the new season of Winx? Did you like the animation or the costumes?

My feelings on the new leaks are mixed.

On one hand, I'm a bit iffy on some of the designs (*cough* Stella *cough*), but on the other hand, I see where they were going with it and I think most of them will grow on me. The transformations I'm not hugely fond of, especially since Rainbow is leaning towards full reboot, so these being the starter transformations just doesn't sit right with me. They feel a bit busy while also being a bit lacking in personality (except Musa, who always get the best transformations and now is no exception). And the wings, while unique compared to the past few we've got, they all feel like the same shape. They are far more personalised, though, which I do like.

I am hard side-eyeing the fact that Musa seems to be lacking monolids in the final design. They could include that in the concept art, but not the actual show??

As for the animation, I think they're doing a pretty good job for the medium! I prefer 2D over 3D, especially for winx, but I understand why they made the decision, and I think they're making the best of it. I have a small feeling that the transformations will be a little lacklustre, but that tends to be a given in 3D if it's not a million dollar Disney movie. Honestly, as long as the story is good, the animation doesn't have to be amazing. Flora's transformation looks well-done for what we've seen.

Things I'm very excited about, though, are 1. the voice-acting, and 2. the new Alfea design.

The voices they used in the teaser are, imo, amazing choices! They sound, to me, like a good mix between the cinelume dub and the 4kids dub, which not only adds to the familiarity but also, the og voices were well cast and reflected the personalities in a way these new voices seem to do. Special mention to Flora's VA sounding Hispanic to reflect her being coded as Latina. Also, Tecna's made me laugh because she sounds like every emo character ever, and the contrast between her original personality and the emo voice is hilarious. Not bad, but certainly strange.

As for the new Alfea, I love it. It looks fantastic! It certainly sets a precedent for the environments we'll see throughout the show, and I really hope they live up to it. The classrooms look fabulous and the individual rooms we've seen (Wizgiz, Palladium, Faragonda, the dorm common area, the library) are all detailed in the best way. They have so much personality and the architecture is stunning. Even if the show ends up bad, if the scenery is even half as good as the concept art, I'll be happy.

Overall, I have my gripes, but I knew from the first announcement that I would. Rainbow can't please everyone, and even if they're doing a lot to please the older fans, it has to still be able to draw in a new audience. This reboot is a huge gamble for them, so I'll remain cautiously optimistic and try to not bash on it before it comes out.

[prodigal-explorer]

okay i hate it more than anything but i also find it so hilarious when white people try super hard to seem like they’re the most diverse creators of all time but they end up just being super racist/sexist/homophobic because all they know about oppressed groups are the stereotypes about them 😭

like in a “watching a dumpster fire” kind of way.

and the thing is as a disabled queer woc, it’s SO OBVIOUS to me whenever it happens like it’s so clear when somebody only makes inclusive headcanons or characters to get brownie points and not because they actually care about diversity.

“hey guys uhhhh see this black man? surprise! she’s actually a transfemme! i’ll bet you guys never expected that! aren’t i such a good person for acknowledging that transfemmes can be buff? or that woc can be queer? or that black people exist?”

“guys you’re never gonna believe this, that super mean girl bully character is actually a lesbian! she’s only mean because she’s terrified of getting close to a woman because she can’t control her predatory urges! aren’t i so inclusive and thoughtful?”

“omg look! it’s a lesbian couple! queer women deserve more of a spotlight in the media! okay now that that’s out of the way, back to the little gay white men, the lesbians had half a chapter, that’s enough to fill out the quota, right?”

“i have some good angst for this asian character…let’s make him a super academic perfectionist who has a really strict mom who makes him do hours of homework every day! oh oh and let’s give her a thick and exaggerated asian accent! just so i can show that i know that asian people have asian accents sometimes. aren’t i so culturally sensitive?”

“yes! genius! i made my super whitewashed hispanic character call his lover “mi amor” a few times. wow. i’m such a good and racially knowledgeable person. i can’t wait to get lots of attention for this!”

that’s just the energy i get when i read some of these fanfics LMAO and i wish i could call ppl out on it but i also don’t care and i know it’ll get me clowned on.