#latinas who lead

[chronomally]

I finally watched the In the Heights movie

Pros:

Considering how many movie musicals are ashamed to be musicals, it's pretty refreshing to see a movie musical not only embrace being a musical, but also try to find ways to convey the same feeling as some very unique live stage effects and embrace the inherent surreality of the world of The Musical

Cons:

They cut like half the female characters' songs + "Useless," killed Nina's mom, and basically deleted 90% of the conflict between Kevin and Benny, but god forbid we lose out on the piragüero song

For a story that doesn't really like textually engage with feminism beyond the way that women often form the back bones of a culture, it felt weirdly anti-feminist

[ofbetterbodies]

How do I explain to Netflix that I never want them to put a movie with anything remotely like Spanglish's plot on my screen ever again

[dilf-docs]

All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!! use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me), pedro wearing a skirt tehee

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace is rather frenetic.

"I miss your tummy" you pout.

"I miss eating too" he whispers out, tiredly. He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

"No matter how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who will totally notice the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

[adrienneleclerc]

Ex-Girlfriend

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Charles’s ex girlfriend is somehow ALWAYS there

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: inspired by Ex-Girlfriend by Melissa KB. I believe since Charles Leclerc and Charlotte Sine still follow each other on Instagram, it’s perfect.

Y/N doesn’t consider herself to be the jealous type but there is just one little thing that Charles does that make her a little wary, and that’s being in contact with his ex. Now at first, she didn’t mind that Charles followed his ex on social media, he isn’t in her likes and viceversa, but it wasn’t until his ex started showing up everywhere they went.

It happened when Charles invited Y/N over to his mom’s house because she was hosting her birthday party. It was the first time she was going to meet Pascale so Y/N wore her best outfit that was appropriate for the occasion.

“Muñeco, i’m nervous, this is my first time meeting someone’s mom.” Y/N said, Charles turned her around so she could face him.

“My mom will love you, and she will love the dessert you brought.” Charles said.

“Yeah, I figured alfajores would be good, who doesn’t like caramel?” Y/N said, Charles giggled before knocking on the door. The door opened to reveal his mother.

“Oh Charles, you made it!” Pascale said, hugging Charles and kissing him on the cheek,

“Hi maman, this is Y/N.” Charles said.

“Oh Y/N, I have heard so much about you, let’s bring this to the kitchen.” Pascale said, holding Y/N’s hand to bring her inside and Y/N followed her into the kitchen. “So there is plenty of food but we won’t eat until later.”

“My family does the same thing.” Y/N commented.

“Charles, dear, introduce Y/N to the guests, get her comfortable.” Pascale said,

“Yes maman, lets go, Mon coeur.” Charles said, guiding Y/N with his hand on her back. Y/N was meeting everyone, and it was all going great until..

“Charles! It’s so good to see you.” A pretty, thin, brunette said, hugging Charles. “Who’s this?”

“It’s good to see you too, Charlotte. This is Y/N, my girlfriend.” Charles said, moving his hand so now his arm was around Y/N

“It’s nice to meet you.” Y/N said, shaking Charlotte’s hand.

“You too, you’re so pretty.” Charlotte said.

“Thank you…so how do you and Charles know each other?” Y/N asked and Charles scratched the back of his head.

“Oh we dated for 3 years.” Charlotte said and Y/N’s eyes widened in shock and she turned to Charles and then back at Charlotte. “Well, have fun, you two look adorable together, it was nice meeting you.” Charlotte said before kissing Y/N on the cheek and she went off to mingle. Y/N turned to Charles, with her arms crossed in front of her.

“Your ex was invited to your mom’s birthday party? You still talk to your ex?” Y/N asked.

“No, I don’t talk to her, her parents were friends with mine, and it looks like our mom’s still keep in touch.” Charles said,

“But did you hear her? ‘You two look adorable together’, like how condescending could a girl be?” Y/N said. Charles laughed a little.

“But mon ange, you are adorable, that nose scrunch you do is adorable.” Charles said, cupping Y/N’s face to kiss her nose and Y/N did the nose scrunch. “You see? Adorable! Now come on, I think you deserve some food after seeing Cha.” Charles said, Y/N stared at him with an eyebrow raised. “Charlotte, I mean Charlotte.”

“Okay let’s go, I want alfajores.” Y/N said and Charles lead her into the kitchen for food.

The couple saw Charlotte other times at the mall, the grocery store, movie theater, ice cream shop, basically everywhere they went. However the last straw when Charles and Y/N were out for lunch.

“We should get dessert before we leave.” Charles said

“Well if you’re offering, I kinda want the chocolate cheesecake.” Y/N said.

“I want the tiramisu.” Charles said.

“We always got tiramisu after lunch, glad to see that didn’t change.” Charlotte said, appearing behind Y/N, she turned to face Charlotte.

“Charlotte, so great to see you.” Y/N faces Charles mouthing the words “Why is she here?” Charles shrugged. “What are you doing here, Charlotte?”

“Oh I just wanted to get a quick lunch, I’ll leave you two to it.” Charlotte said.

“Why don’t you join us?” Charles asked and Y/N kicked his shin under the table. “Merde, Y/N.” Charles said, soothing his shin.

“Are you sure you don’t mind? I could get another table.” Charlotte said.

“You’re not sitting by yourself, pull up a chair,” Charles insisted, Charlotte pulled up a chair and sat in between Charles and Y/N, leaning closer to Charles, what a surprise.

“So, dessert?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, I’ll order for us.” Charles said, as he got the waiter’s attention and ordered dessert, letting Charlotte order her food. When Charles’s and Y/N’s dessert came, Charlotte was talking about her relationship with Charles.

“Charles actually let me drive his race car one time, it was so exciting.” Charlotte reminisces. “Has he taken You out in his F1 car yet?”

“I haven’t.” Y/N responded curtly, taking another forkful of chocolate cheesecake, finishing her dessert, and stared at Charles.

“Well I’m sure he’ll take you out someday, he would take me out on his yacht, we’d go scuba diving, hiking, shopping, we had some fun times.” Charlotte said, trying to hold Charles’s hand but he moved his hand away.

“Charlotte, it was so good seeing you, I’ll ask for the check, and pay for your lunch, but Y/N and I have to head out.” Charles said, getting up from the table, pulling Y/N’s chair out so she could get up as well.

“Oh okay, I’ll see you later then.” Charlotte said. Y/N waited for Charles to pay before they left the restaurant. Once they were in the car, charles turned on the radio.

“Okay, let it out.” Charles said and Y/N screamed.

“Like why was she here? I get that Monaco is small but COME ON! It’s not natural to bump into your exes this much. Also the whole ‘i drove his race car, did you drive his race car?’ Like she was fucking comparing relationships, what the hell was that about?” Y/N ranted.

“I know, Mon ange, I know.” Charles said.

“And you! You invited her to sit with us! You didn’t say anything when she talked about the past! You just sat there, eating your tiramisu without a care in the world.” Y/N said.

“I couldn’t tell her anything, Y/N, that would have been rude.” Charles said.

“There is nothing rude about setting boundaries with your ex, Charles.” Y/N said.

When they made it to Charles apartment, Y/N noticed something on the floor that she hasn’t noticed before. A gold bracelet with a ‘C’ charm, Charles only wears silver jewelry and he always has those APM Monaco bracelets so it’s not his, and it is most certainly not hers.

“Muñeco, who’s bracelet is this?” Y/N asked, holding up the bracelet she found on the floor. Charles turned around to look at it.

“Putain, it’s Charlotte’s.” Charles admitted,

“Charlotte’s? You guys broke up a year ago! How is this still here?” Y/N asked.

“I guess she forgot it here and never realized it was missing.” Charles said.

“Okay, we clearly need to have a conversation. Listen, I’m not the jealous type, I’m not too fond of the emotion, but there needs to be boundaries. You can’t just invite her to sit with us whenever she is in the same place as we are. That’s making her believe that you two might have a chance in the future, it just can’t happen again, Charles.” Y/N said,

“But you knew i had exes before we started dating, I don’t understand why you’re acting this way towards Charlotte, we ended on good terms.” Charles said.

“Well i didn’t think I would bump into her so often, I never bumped into Giada, why the hell am I bumping into Charlotte? But I’m serious, Charles, boundaries.” Y/N said.

So the next day, Charles messaged Charlotte on Instagram to return her bracelet, meeting up at the same restaurant.

“Glad you can meet me here,” Charles said, sitting at Charlotte’s table,

“I was a little surprised you DM’d me, to be honest. So what’s up?” Charlotte asked,

“Well I’m here to return your bracelet.” Charles said, showing her the gold bracelet.

“Is that all? Surely you didn’t text me just to return a bracelet a completely forgot about.” Charlotte said.

“There’s more…” Charles said.

“I knew it! You broke up with Y/N didn’t you?” Charlotte asked.

“What? No! Charlotte, there needs to be boundaries between us. You are my ex, it’s okay that we say ‘hi’ when we see each other but that’s it. Also, you can’t come to my mom’s house whenever my mom invites your mom, it’s weird. I blame myself for leading you on yesterday, I guess, and I am sorry about that, but it makes Y/N uncomfortable so if you see me with her out and about in Monaco, don’t say anything.” Charles said.

“Um yeah, yeah, that’s fine, I understand.” Charlotte said.

“Good, bye.” Charles said and he left without a second glance. Once he was in his car, he unfollowed Charlotte and removed her as a follower as well on Instagram. He made it to his apartment and found Y/N baking.

“Hey, I woke up and you were gone, where did you go?” Y/N asked, placing some dough in the oil.

“Clearing something up with an old friend. What are you making? I thought there weren’t any orders for today.” Charles said

“There isn’t, I just really wanted picarones. I would ask if you wanted one but Andrea would kill me.” Y/N said. Charles hugged her from behind and kissed her cheek.

“I love you.” Charles said,

“I love you too.” Y/N said. “Would you help me made the picarones? You can roll the dough and make the shape, I’ll just fry them.”

“I Can do that.” Charles said.

The next time Charles saw Charlotte was when him and Y/N were grocery shopping. And keeping true to her promise, Charlotte didn’t say hi to them, she knew it was for the best though.

“Hey Muñeco, think I need more flour or do we have enough?” Y/N asked. Charles looked at their cart.

“We have more than enough, Mon coeur, let’s go pay.” Charles said.

The End

Hope y’all liked it!

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓛ove 𝓘n 𝓢ecret ۪ ׂ   𓈒 ୭

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀ceo!miguel⠀𝓍⠀wife!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. everyone at work assumes you and miguel dislike each other. however, they don’t know their boss and his assistant are married and have a daughter together.

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. modern!au, fluff, established relationship, secret relationship, swearing, pet names, hispanic/latina!reader

the irritating sound of peter’s voice was making miguel pinching the bridge of his nose for the millionth time. imaginary steam like a train coming out from his ears. face red of frustration. internally swearing to the point of almost speaking aloud.

you recognize that face in a heartbeat. it happens almost everyday at work because some employees seem to stubborn or screw up whatever they are working on. it adds more anger and stress to your boss, or should say, husband. the company don’t know of your marriage with miguel or that you two have a daughter. for the sake of your job, you and miguel established an agreement to keep this relationship a secret. imagine working for your boss who is also your husband and you’re his assistant. yeah, that would turn many heads immediately.

luckily, you’ve been hiding it well for three years.

you decide to hate, or dislike each other as a method to conceal your relationship. always bickering when coworkers are present. during meetings, lunch, happy hours, in the hallways.

but in private? oh you two are love birds. cute kisses, or sometimes heavy makeout sessions which leads to much more interesting things. cuddling or simply embracing each other for comfort, especially if either of you are stressed out. discussing your daughter’s hobbies, school, soccer and ballet practices. plan dates that you two would go on later.

just two people utterly in love with each other.

although, it sucks to hide it during work but at least you see each other everyday. acting like enemies, putting on a show to convince people. it’s been working for three years. no one has suspected, well some do but not everyone.

“peter, i swear — if you keep saying that one more, i’m going to throw you out the room.” miguel mumbled under his breath, rubbing the temples of his forehead with a hand.

“what! i’m just saying that maybe—“

before the man could continue his sentence, a loud slam on the desk makes everyone jerk in their seats. you don’t, this isn’t new to you.

“¡ya cállete! everyone out!” miguel shouts.

to not piss of the boss even more, everyone scurries out the meeting room with fear illustrated on their faces. you simply sit there with folded arms, staring at your grumpy husband with an unimpressed look. of course when he means everyone gone, you stay.

once everyone’s out the room and the blinds closed, you finally speak. “well, that went well.”

a scoff escapes his lips. he loves your sarcasm, one of his favorite traits about you. the only person he could tolerate their sarcasm.

“ese pinche mamón doesn’t pay attention to what i say.” he pinched his nose again. “sometimes i wonder why i even hired him in the first place.”

you huff, getting up from your seat and walking towards him. “he’s your best friend, that’s why.” you stand behind him and gently wrap your arms around his bulky shoulders, chin resting on top of his head.

miguel immediately relaxes in your touch, slouching a bit in his chair. “best friend, sure.” he huffs, rolling his eyes. “still a pain in the ass.”

“that’s how best friends are, whether you like to admit he’s your bestie or not.” you give him a light, comforting squeeze on the shoulders.

a low sigh spills from his lips. “pues si, i guess…”

“but hey…” you unwrap your arms and turn his chair around so he’s facing you. “let’s forget about work and focus on gabi’s ballet recital tonight, ¿vale?” you cup his face, your whole world in your palms.

the frustration vanishes from his face and is replaced with adoration the moment he sees your face, ultimately melting under your touch. “sí, she’s going to be amazing tonight.” his beefy arms wrap around your waist, gently pulling you closer towards him so there isn’t much space between you.

a soft smile forms on your face. “she will be. she’s been practicing for weeks now and she’s so excited about it. also her soccer game on saturday, too.” your thumbs caress his cheeks with such tenderness.

“active girl, como su mamá.” he mirrors your smile, gazing at you with pure adoration. broad hands gently squeezing your sides.

you scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. “ay si, working for her dad keeps me very active.” lots of sarcasm which ends with those heavenly chuckles of your husband that you love so dearly.

“and i tend to keep her mom active.” his hands squeeze your sides again in a teasing manner, earning himself a giggle that is music to his ears. “the recital is at 6:30, ¿sí?”

“mhm. after i get off, i’m picking her up from school and then help her get ready. make sure you leave on time, remember last time?” you shoot him a light glare, quirking a brow.

you can see the guilt forming on his face as flashbacks of last time when he barely made it out the door and was practically sweating when he entered the ballet studio consumes his mind. luckily he managed to get there right when the recital started. you forced him to take a good shower after.

“no te procupes, mi alma. i promise to be out way beforehand.” he smiles reassuringly.

“you better or your dumbass is sleeping on the couch.” you threaten playfully but you’re being serious and miguel knows that fairly well.

the man chuckles, nodding. “si, señora.”

you two smile at each other before leaning closer and collide lips in a passionate kiss. one of the very few moments when you can be intimate. to be a married couple without any worries or prying eyes.

“okay, i gotta go get gabi now.” you say as you break away from the kiss, hands still cupping his face. “see you later? and don’t be late.” you hold on a finger as a warning, lightly glaring at him once again.

he softly chuckles, gently grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips to planet a soft kiss on the back of it. “lo prometo, mi reina.”

a soft smile forms on your face. “te amo.” you plant a quick kiss on his lips before moving out of his hold.

“te amo más.” miguel whispers before gently swatting your ass as you walk away, the cheeky action making you smile and roll your eyes.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

“is papí gonna show up on time, mamá?” your adorable nine-year-old daughter asks, looking up at you through the mirror as you brush her hair.

“sí, mi cielo. papí promised this time he’ll be out the door way before this time.” grabbing a hair tie from the drawer, you gently pick all of her hair and make a ponytail before turning it into a bun.

the little girl smiles. “remember how sweaty he was when he ran inside? he was so stinky!” she giggles.

you giggle as well, remembering exactly how stinky miguel smelt and you shoving him into the shower the minute you got home that night.

“he was very stinky.” after clipping her baby pink bow on her head, you spray hairspray to seal the bun. “he won’t be stinky this time, that’s for sure.”

the two of you continue giggling before the sound of the front door closing makes you stop. gabriella rushes out of the bathroom and runs down the hallway to greet her father with much excitement. you quickly follow her, eager to see your husband.

“papí!” gabriella squeals as she runs up to her father with a big smile and jumps into his arms so abruptly, which he quickly catches her.

he chuckles wholeheartedly. “hola, mi princesa.”

“you’re home early! yay!” the little girl exclaims.

“sí, princesa. i wanted to come home early so mamá and i can take you to your recital.” he smiles.

“yay! at least you’re not stinky.” she fakes a disgusted face, fanning her face to pretend he smells like he was last time.

a little frown settles on his face, shifting his gaze from his daughter to you. you simply shrug with an innocent smile. miguel shakes his head, smiling.

“no, i’m perfectly clean.” he gazes switched back to gabriella. “look at you, a ballerina princess.”

the little girl giggles, twirling in her puffy baby pink tutu. “sí! i’m the princess and mamá is the queen.” she walks back to you, grabbing your hand.

the compliment melts your heart. your daughter is utterly adorable. your precious baby.

“and you’re the king, papí!” she points at miguel.

the both of you laugh.

“sí, princesa. we’re one happy royal family,” miguel walks up to you. “y tú mamá es la reina de mi vida.” gently cupping your face, he captures your lips in a soft kiss that you happily accept and reciprocate.

his words were just a smudge cheesy but they make your heart flutter. such a romantic dork.

“tonto.” you whisper, making him smile.

“no kissing! save that for later! it’s recital time!”

the sass in your child’s tone makes you and miguel laugh. she definitely gets it from you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

the ballet recital was a success. gabriella did an amazing performance, as well as the other children. you and miguel are proud of your little girl. you went to a diner afterwards and treat her with ice cream of her favorite flavor. now looking forward to the soccer game on saturday. but, you have to deal with work before you could indulge in that.

miguel is in the middle of a meeting when you wander in the room with a file on your hands prepared to give him. you notice his eyes lighting up as soon as you enter, making you almost smile but immediately stop yourself from others noticing.

just as you hand him the file, jessica stops speaking whatever she’s discussing and looks at you two with a skeptical yet unimpressed look.

“forgive me for stopping but come on, you two. just admit you guys are together.”

the meeting room went silent, the statement lingering in the air. everyone turns and face you both with anticipation, waiting for your answer.

well, shit.

you and miguel share a worrying glance before he rises from his seat. a bulky arm sneaks around your waist, gently pulling you closer towards him.

“yes, we’re together.” he states, feeling prideful.

you watch jaws drop and eyes wide in surprise. others, like jess, don’t seem surprise but rather relieved the suspicion is gone and truth revealed.

“we’re married.” you hold up your left hand and show off your big ass diamond ring.

some gasps but mostly aww’s fill the room.

“and we have a daughter.” miguel adds.

now that shocked everyone.

◟ ࣪⠀ׅ ♱⠀𝓝ote. probably one of the fluffiest things i’ve ever written and i love it so much. also, need some fluff with ceo!miguel because we need cute moments with him. ♡

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[teapartyprincess4two]

Candy- C. Sturniolo

pairing: influencer!reader x Chris

classification: fluff

warnings: Latina reader, use of Spanish (brief), use of y/n, mention of alcohol, suggestive content but no smut, online scandal

translations: pendeja- dumbass (feminine)

inspiration: Candy by Plan B

summary: You were sweet as candy and Chris couldn’t stop himself from taking a bite, leading to an internet scandal neither of you anticipated.

—

Influencer parties were never Chris’s thing, he usually just let himself get dragged along for appearances. Today is one of those days, he got ready and acted excited, but deep down all he wanted to do was go back home. Currently, he’s making his rounds around the event, dabbing people up and introducing himself to the strangers he hasn’t met yet.

As he walks around the crowded party with his brothers, he realizes that there’s more unfamiliar faces than he accounted for. Maybe he’s seen a video of theirs once or twice, but for the most part he has no idea who these people are.

Nick finds a friend and disappears amidst the crowd, dancing to the beat of the music as he follows his friend towards a different area of the house. Matt has started a conversation with someone he recognized, bonding with them over God knows what. Chris lingered around Matt for a while, debating whether he should insert himself in the conversation or not, but it sounded boring and there was sure to be something more interesting at this party.

So, he allows himself to wander around, grabbing a drink along the way. Candy by Plan B plays loudly over the speakers, shaking the walls with each beat. He’s never heard this song before, but he makes a mental note to add it to his playlist, bopping his head slightly to the music. Chris takes a long swig of his beer, eyes scanning the room for something or someone interesting.

The room is crowded, the music is loud, and the strobing lights don’t help him recognize anyone. He walks further into the crowd, holding his beer by the neck as he weaves past sweaty people. He’s about to give up and walk back to where he left Matt, but that’s when he sees you.

You’re in the middle of the room, dancing shamelessly to the song. You’re swaying your hips, grinding against a friend as your hair falls in front of your face. Despite the commotion surrounding him, Chris feels the world stop. He’s never seen someone so beautiful, and maybe it’s the alcohol, but he’s instantly addicted to you. In that moment he made it his mission to learn your name and get your number.

You feel Chris’s watch on you, following the burning sensation until your eyes lock with his. You don’t know who he is, but you’re immediately in awe. He was so handsome that if this was a cartoon you’d have heart eyes.

You continue dancing, looking Chris up and down with a slight smirk before finally prying your eyes away. Just because he was cute didn’t mean you weren’t going to make him work for it. He senses the challenge and mentally accepts it, ready to do whatever it takes to make you his. The song fades out, a completely different beat playing over the speakers as Rompe by Daddy Yankee plays.

You’re swiveling your hips to the song, turning towards your friends as you begin singing the lyrics to each other. Chris takes another swig of his beer, finishing it off for some liquid courage before finally walking over to you. “Look who’s coming,” your friend comments, her eyes darting behind you to signal at Chris.

Usually you’d find boldness like Chris’s obnoxious and creepy, but he had a certain charm to him that made up for it. Before you knew it, you found yourself drunkenly dancing with him, his hands on your hips and yours around his neck. The alcohol, loud music, and his ability to dance on beat is enough to convince you that you’ve found the man of your dreams.

“What’s your name?” he shouts over the music, hands holding you in place as you grind against him. Chris feels like he’s in heaven, he’s never had a girl this hot this close to him, let alone grinding on him. “Y/n,” you exclaim as he leans into you so he can hear you better. “I’m Chris!” he replies, face so close to yours that his breath is fanning across your neck.

Despite the loud music, the moment is intimate and it feels like you and Chris are the only two people in the room. He pulls away from your ear, keeping his face close enough for your noses to touch while you dance. Before he can stop himself, he’s leaning in for a sloppy, drunk kiss. His hands are all over your body and yours are tangled in his hair.

You’re making out, grinding against each other as loud reggaeton plays in the background. The alcohol running through your veins caused you to forget that this isn’t just a random party, this is an influencer party; where everyone knows everyone, and everyone knows Chris. But the room is so chaotic that neither of you notice people taking pictures, the strobing lights serving as a mask for the nosy onlookers. They sneakily snap pictures and take videos, posting them online in a matter of seconds for the world to see.

At this point, you’ve been dancing with Chris for hours, both of you becoming a sweaty, drunk mess. People kept taking pictures, all of them trying to get their 15 minutes of fame by creating a scandal. If it weren’t for your friend who managed to pull you away, you would’ve stayed clung to Chris for the whole night. You were so drunk that you would’ve surely led him to a room and created an even bigger mess for yourself.

“Girl you can’t be dancing with that dude,” she says, dragging you outside of the party and to the car. “What? Why not?” your words are slurred, your heels clacking on the pavement as you struggle to keep up. Just moments before you were dancing expertly, but now you can’t even remember which foot is left and which is right. “Because he’s famous, pendeja,” she quips back, pulling you along aggressively towards the car. Who cares if he’s famous? He’s fucking hot.

“So? I’m famous too,” you’re slurring your words, stumbling with each step.

It’s true, you had your own group of fans, but you were a fairly new content creator. So, even if you were ‘famous,’ you weren’t as popular as Chris. “Exactly my point, bitch. Everyone was taking pictures of you guys. That’s gonna look so bad on you,” she says, throwing her hands up in the air. She was still pretty sober, leaving you on the dance floor to use the restroom and getting distracted along the way, only to come back to you grinding on a stranger.

When her hands flail in the air, she lets go of you causing you to lose your balance and fall on the grass lawn. She looks down at you annoyed, “Girl, oh my God. Get up.” Her hands wrap around your arms, using all her strength to hoist you up.

Your friend explained the situation to you, going into full detail about the story and of how she obtained the information in the first place. You’re so drunk that if all sounds like jibberish to you, but you listen anyways. Apparently she heard from a friend of a friend that Chris was extremely famous, he and his brothers sharing a YouTube channel that amassed over 6 million subscribers. These numbers didn’t really matter to you, you were never the type to measure someone’s worth based on followers, but it obviously mattered to your friend.

You were tuning her out now, your mind occupied with thoughts of Chris; his lips against yours, his hands that roamed your body, his body heat while you two danced to the music.

If the internet wanted to cancel you for having fun with a hot guy that you’d probably never see again, so be it.

—

Two days have passed since that party and Chris’s phone has been going crazy because of those pictures, there’s even videos of the two of you practically undressing each other mid dance floor. He was so drunk that he hardly remembers that night at all and he didn’t even manage to get your number because your friend pulled you away before he could ask. Although he hates the negative attention the videos and photos have brought, he can’t stop watching them.

“You need to fucking fix this,” Nick says through gritted teeth, scrolling on his laptop. Their Instagram DM’s, YouTube comments, emails, Snapchat messages, all of it was full to the brim with crazed fans. There were even YouTube drama channels reacting and talking about the photos, claiming that this was the ‘downfall of the Sturniolo Triplets.’

Nick pulls up the main photo everyone is going crazy over, enlarging it so it takes up the whole laptop screen. In the photo Chris’s hands are firmly gripping your ass, fingers ending right below your dress. Your right hand is tangled in his hair, the left one holding onto his bicep for support. The two of you are locking lips, and because you were dancing, the picture is blurry, but there’s no doubt that it’s Chris in the picture. There’s even less doubt that it’s you, your outfit matching the one you posted on your Instagram just hours before the party.

“Dude you’re fucked,” Matt chuckles as he shakes his head at Chris, he found the situation slightly amusing. “It’s not funny, Matt. Read these comments,” Nick responds, tilting the laptop so Matt can do a once over. Matt’s eyes gloss over the screen, reading so many messages that all said the same thing, ‘who is she and why is she with Chris?’

“They can’t be that bad,” Chris finally says, glancing at the laptop from over Matt’s shoulder. After reading about 5 messages he realizes that they were that bad, the fans were actually going insane over these photos. They managed to find your social media and kept tagging you in posts, one of the notifications popping up on the screen as Chris reads comments. “Wait click that,” Chris instructs, pointing towards the right hand corner of the laptop.

Nick clicks the notification swiftly, managing to catch it before it was replaced by another one. The notification leads them to your Instagram account, your aesthetic and page layout immediately jogging Chris’s memory. Suddenly he remembers every detail from that night, Candy by Plan B playing in his head as images of you flash through his mind.

“Is this her?” Matt asks, shooing Nick’s hand off the mousepad so he can scroll through your account. Your account was full of photo dumps; all of them including pictures of you with friends, family, out partying, and a lot of provocative selfies. There was a sexy, mysterious edge to you that could put anyone in a trance, and it was evident in your suggestive poses and the amount of likes under each post. Matt clicks on one of the photos, you’re wearing a little black dress and holding a beer, sitting on a lounge chair outside of a bustling party.

It was the exact dress from that night, and Matt instantly recognizes the background as the same venue from the party. Your legs and chest are visible, black pumps and a gold necklace on full display; all of them being the same details from Chris’s scandalous photo. “Dude you’re so fucked!” Matt reiterates loudly with a laugh, zooming into the background of the picture.

In the background, among other drunk people, you can faintly see Chris, Matt, and Nick. Chris squints his eyes at the screen, trying to see if he was distinguishable in the photo, but he clearly was. He couldn’t lie his way out of this situation even if he tried, all the evidence pointed directly at him.

“Fuck!” He groans, running an anxious hand through his hair. What the fuck was he going to do? What if this singular night and these photos managed to ruin their career?

Matt laughs, he understands that this is stressful, but even he had to agree that you were hot, “Dude, don’t worry. I’d get cancelled for her too.” Chris sends him a warning look and Nick rolls his eyes, this was no time for jokes.

Nick takes control of the laptop again, opening up a chat with you. “Wait, what are you doing?!” Chris asks immediately, watching as Nick types up a lengthy message. “Fixing your damn mistake,” he replies, pressing send without hesitation. Chris groans, facepalming as he thinks of what that message would lead to.

“Like I said dude, you’re fuuuucked,” Matt comments in a sing song tone, chuckling as he retreats to his room. Nick shuts the laptop, standing from the table and doing the same, grumbling a “fucking dumbass” as he walks upstairs.

Chris is left to think about the situation, mind replaying that night on loop. Although he doesn’t regret it, he feels like a high schooler getting in trouble for having a girl over and locking the door.

He was a grown man, he could kiss as many strangers as he wanted, but he still couldn’t help but wonder what he was supposed to do now.

—

Despite all the comments and backlash you were receiving, you didn’t learn your lesson. Instead of hiding from the world, you dolled yourself up for another night out. Your outfit is sensual, it screams ‘I don’t care what you think about me,’ and turns heads when you walk in a room.

You were still in the infancy stage of your career as an influencer, and if you’ve learned one thing from watching your friends get involved in scandals it’s that these things come and go. Tomorrow something more exciting will entertain people and they’ll forget all about you, so why stop having fun?

The strings of your thong peak from above your low rise jeans, a fitted crop top hugging your figure perfectly. You’ve styled your hair and done your makeup, ready to get drunk and ruin it with more mistakes at yet another influencer party. Hopefully Chris would be there too, not only because you’d love to dance with him again, but because you need to talk about the elephant in the room.

Of course you didn’t really care how this affected your career, but you knew that he and his brothers would take a slight hit from this. They were more established in this field, people held high expectations of them and scandals like this only tainted their image.

You do a once over of your outfit in the mirror, making any last minute finishing touches before walking downstairs. As you’re making your way downstairs, you grab your purse and begin shoving random things in there, your phone being one of them. The phone vibrates in your hand indicating a notification, nothing out of the ordinary especially right now, and when you inspect it your eyes just gloss over your phone before turning it off.

It was a message from the ‘triplets,’ apologizing for their fans behavior and for the entire scandal, even inviting you to meet in person to discuss what comes next. If you weren’t so excited to go out, and if you would’ve clicked the message, you would’ve realized that it was from the actual triplets and not a troll account. But at this point you’ve received so many notifications just like it from a plethora of sources, so you didn’t pay it any mind.

Instead of stressing yourself out, you shove your phone in your purse and walk out the door to meet your friends. You were going to enjoy your night with or without a scandal.

—

Chris is apprehensive, not sure if he should join Matt and Nick on their night out, especially not after what happened last time. Matt and Nick are dressed and ready, waiting for Chris in the living room so they can leave. Maybe attending another influencer party so soon after the scandal wasn’t the best idea, but Matt already promised he’d go and Nick had friends texting him asking if he was coming. So, if Chris didn’t want to go that was fine, but the other two were definitely making an appearance.

Chris is torn between two choices: stay home and protect his image or attend this party in hopes of seeing you again. He chews on his cheek, mulling the decision over before mumbling a quiet, “fuck it,” and getting dressed. Everyone was already raining hell fire on him, what difference did it make if he made mistakes now?

He throws on a casual outfit, ruffling his hair in the mirror before exiting his room and jogging up the stairs. Matt and Nick look up from their phones once they sense Chris’s presence, a little shocked that he’s joining them.

“Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go,” Chris comments nonchalantly, tilting his head towards the door to encourage the other two to get up. Nick is more conscious of his actions than Chris is, and he knows that as soon as Chris enters that party all eyes are going to be on him. And, if you’re already there, the attention this’ll bring is worse. “Don’t you think you should-“ Nick begins, but Chris cuts him off because he knows where this is going and he doesn’t want to chicken out now.

“I said I’m ready. Let’s fucking go.”

Matt rolls his eyes at Chris’s tough guy act, grabbing his keys and walking past him, “Watch your fucking mouth, kid.” Chris ignores him, following closely behind him as they walk downstairs and out the door. He suddenly feels excited, he can’t wait to get drunk and lose all his inhibitions.

—

The party is like any other, full of drunk people and loud music, the smell of alcohol and weed being the only thing wafting through the air. Chris was excited on the car ride there, but as soon as he hops out of the car he can feel everyone’s eyes on him, and that’s when the anxiety kicks in. What the fuck was he thinking? That he could saunter into this party and go unnoticed?

Chris tightens his jaw, trying to keep his composure and show zero signs of weakness. People are murmuring, pointing, some of them even laughing. If Chris didn’t have Nick and Matt at his side he would surely break and let the anxiety consume him. The three of them are doing their rounds, greeting friends and grabbing drinks along the way: the usual. Chris wills the bad thoughts away, taking a swig of his beer as his eyes scan the room.

Last time he was scanning the room for anything or anyone exciting, this time he’s scanning the room for one person; you. He hasn’t been able to spot you in the crowd, and after the scandal he dragged you into, he wouldn’t blame you for not showing up. Chris takes another long swig of his beer, practically chugging the drink as he tries easing his nerves with the alcohol.

“Go slow with that shit,” Nick comments with a scoff, pointing at the beer that was already halfway finished. Chris holds his hands up in defense, he definitely had to pace himself tonight, especially with so many haters lurking around every corner. “I’m gonna go find my friend, don’t do anything stupid,” Nick continues with a warning glare, pushing past Chris and disappearing into the crowd

Chris’s eyes follow Nick, watching as his figure weaves between people until he’s no longer in view. He allows his eyes to scan the room one last time, mentally claiming that if he doesn’t find you then it wasn’t meant to be. Just as his eyes reach the far left corner, and he’s about to give up, he sees you. He swears he feels his heart skip a beat, butterflies in his stomach, and heat rise to his cheeks.

You’re sitting on the arm of the couch, legs crossed and rocking back and forth as you groove to the music. In your hands is a cold beer, you take small sips from it in between conversation with your friend. Chris is silently grateful that you’re here with a friend and not another guy because it means he stands a chance with you. Usually he wouldn’t be psyching himself out this much, but you were easily the prettiest girl in the room, he’d even go as far to say that you were the prettiest girl at the party.

“I’ll be back,” Chris says to Matt, slapping his brothers back and abandoning the group he was standing with as he walks towards you. Matt, who was previously engaged in a conversation, is now watching Chris intently. Either Chris was going to come out as the underdog who got the girl, or he was going to make an idiot of himself and become a viral sensation once again. The group Matt is standing with is watching too, ready to watch Chris fail to impress you and walk back defeated.

Chris pushes past dancing couples, apologizing to anyone he bumps into as he walks towards you. His eyes are locked on you, afraid that if he looks way you’ll disappear and become a figment of his imagination. You’re too busy talking to your friend to notice Chris approaching, one of your arms rests on the back of the couch as you lean into your friend. The music is loud, the lights are blinding, and the alcohol is beginning to muddle your senses.

When you pull away from your friend you see him, standing so dangerously close to you that if it were anyone else you’d be startled. But for some reason you feel comfortable, you feel like you’ve known Chris for forever and he’s just a friend coming to say hi. So that’s what you do.

“Oh! Hi,” a big smile grows on your face, the alcohol making you extra confident and cheery. Chris chuckles, finding your drunken state only slightly amusing. “Hi,” he replies with a goofy smile, taking a step closer to you on the couch.

He’s now standing in between your legs, gentle hands landing on your thighs before he continues, “our kiss broke the internet, huh?” You laugh, Chris had an unmatched charm to him that could make anyone fall in love.

“Tryna break it again?” you ask, feeling extra bold now that he’s standing so close. He smirks knowing that in that moment, despite all the online drama and rumors, he came out with the girl. “We can try,” he replies coyly, leaning into your touch as he allows his lips to hover over yours.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, the music, or the crowd of people watching, but Chris feels the need to claim you as his in front of everyone at this party. His lips attach to yours, both of you moulding together as Candy by Plan B plays in the background.

You were sweet as candy and Chris couldn’t help but take a bite.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

Latinas for Chris🚨Latinas for Chris🚨

Had this one in the drafts for a while. I just had to write something for my Latina girlies 😋

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[sepherinaspoppies]

Only If For A Night (i/?)

pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.

warnings for this part: profanity, tea drugging, blood magic, sexism, I think that's it... more dark stuff later. READER IS LATINA !

wc: 4,027

series masterlist

my masterlist

pt2

notes: originally I was gonna have this fic be a one shot but it is sooo long that I decided to split it into three. this is an introduction part, aemond will be on the next (I'm half way done with that part).

Chapter 1: Only If For A Night

She knows she is screwed when Doña Maribel broke the news to her that the last of the cempasuchiles were completely sold out in her shop. Making it five flower shops in the span of an hour that she walked to have fully run out of the bright orange flowers she needed for her ancestral altar that she and her abuela worked tirelessly on for the past few days. (marigolds, grandmother)

She wonders what to do next or perhaps where to go as she plays with the gravel beneath her shoes. Sure, she could walk another mile or so to another flower shop and try her luck there just as Doña Maribel suggested but she finds herself too tired to venture deeper in her small pueblo by herself. (town)

Even the walk back to her abuela’s was not something she looked forward to as of now. This was the time where she wished she had the ability to drive but alas she could not for even the streets of Mexico were more hectic and nerve wracking than back at the states. (grandmother’s)

She sighs in defeat. The cempasuchiles were the last thing on her abuela’s list of things she required for tonight’s first day of Dia de Los Muertos. The bright orange flowers illuminated the path of those who died, back into the land of the living and enjoy the offerings their family’s set up for them. (Day of the Dead)

Maybe for just tonight she could spare them.  

She sets her three mercado bags beside her as she sits down on a bench right next to a bus stop that could lead her directly to her abuela’s home. The smell of citrus of the lemon tree above her eases her disappointment and feels that this is the perfect spot to reread one of her favorite books. (shopping)

George R. R. Martin’s, Fire and Blood Vol. 1. She wondered what it was like to reside in a world of dragons (before they were all extinct), dire wolves from the North, red priestesses from Volantis, and mysterious yet powerful witches. To live inside the walls of the Red Keep and tour around the secret passageways and to fight for the rightful Queen of Westeros, Rhaenyra and the other members of the Blacks during the Dance of Dragons.  

Sadly, even if it was possible to venture deep into alternate fantasy universes. It all was pure fiction. Not real. Impossible. 

‘And so one-eyed Aemond the Kinslayer took up the iron-and-ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror, “It looks better on me than it ever did on him,” the prince proclaimed.’

“Excuse me, do you happen to know when the bus is due to arrive?” She snaps her head up meeting the most beautiful and enchanting woman she’d ever seen. Eyes round and greener than the trees itself during spring. Hair long and black like ravens in the night sky. She was tall, taller than most of the women here with skin like porcelain that had not seen a day of sun, a rarity here in Mexico. 

It was her mischievous tight lipped smile that made her feel loss of words. Unknowingly, this mysterious woman was the first person who spoke to her in English, not Spanish.

“Umm… I- I’m sorry?” 

The green eyed woman smirked as if she knew the small effect she had on her. Gods she was beautiful. 

“The bus–” 

She shook her head out of her revere, coming to reality. “Oh, I’m not sure. Perhaps a few more minutes.” She informed, pulling her mercado bags closer to her side, allowing the green eyed woman to sit, not wanting to be rude. 

She murmurs a quick thank you as she sits exceedingly close to her, shoulder to shoulder, flesh to flesh with her. Jeez, talk about personal space! However, the woman doesn’t seem to care or acknowledge that she has enough space for her own person. A feeling of uncertainty rests below her gut, telling her to be vigilant around her presence.    

“How long have you waited?” She asks, breaking away the long silence between them. She almost shivers at the intensity hue of her eyes that bore right through her. 

“About ten to twelve minutes.” She replies, looking anywhere else but her. 

A satisfactory look sketched around the woman's youthful yet elderly face which she found odd. What could be so pleasing about the bus not arriving? The woman said nothing, only sitting rather straight, almost elegant in her simple long green dress. Though, in the back of her mind, she wondered if she felt hot underneath the heaviness of the velvet fabric. She sure as hell did.

“Wait, how did you know I spoke english?” She asked as the hairs on her arms stood up straight in some kind of chilling fear. 

The woman’s eyes lowered and centered on the object sitting up on her lap. “Your book gives it away.” She snickered softly, tilting her head reading the bold letters of her very worn book she got at the thrift store for just two dollars. “An interesting read.” The green eyed woman said whilst her face held no sincere fondness of it for someone who found it interesting. 

“You’ve read this before?” She asked curiously, little taken back, that she finally found someone else who read Fire and Blood Vol 1. Or anything by George R. R. Martin. 

“Yes, almost like I've lived through it” 

She opens her mouth to speak but the green eyed woman beats her to it. “I don’t mean to pry but where are you headed?” The smile falls off her face as she remembers the warning of stranger danger she learned as a kid. 

The woman must have noticed the dubious look upon her face as she threw her head back in a laugh. “I ask because it seems a storm is coming our way. And it looks like an angry one.” 

Sure enough, as she looked up the sky had turned into a deep gray with heavy clouds ready to pour any minute. Well this wasn’t forecasted in the noticias this morning, otherwise, she’d carry an umbrella. Or better yet, she wouldn’t have walked all this way if a storm was brewing. (news) 

“My cottage is not very far from here,” the green eyed woman revealed, standing up from the bench, overlooking the seriousness of the clouds. “It is just around the corner. Would you like to come?” 

She wanted to say no, that she was better off walking an hour back to her abuela’s house, even if it meant that she’d catch a cold in the pouring rain with blisters all over her feet. Besides, she did not know anything about this woman. Every bit of her mind screamed stranger danger! Don’t go!

But as she glanced between the heavy clouds and the green eyed woman with her hand extended out, all that doubt and worriment went away. 

“I don’t even know your name,” she pointed out. If all goes bad, at least she had a name to tell the authorities.

“My name is Alyssandra Riveras.” The green eyed woman smiled, bowing at the waist. 

Though still somewhat skeptical, she walks alongside Alyssandra to her cottage. She makes small mental notes in her head, counting the red stop signs, right and left turns and any other landmarks of important significance. 

She was almost positive she could point her way back home. It did not help that five minutes into their journey, it started harshly pouring out of nowhere like a bucket of water had been poured all over, blanketing her vision. 

Alyssandra’s cottage had sat on the outskirts of the pueblo, isolated from all civilization, hidden around tall and green pine trees. A faint voice in the back of her head screamed to run and never look back. She ignored it.

From a close distance, she was able to distinguish a small window with overgrown vines and branches wrapped around the perimeter of the cottage. Bones, bells, and crystal windchimes hung from the roof and windows, mostly likely put up for some kind of spiritual protection. 

She was no stranger to the craft. Although raised catholic, both her mama and abuela had hung an old broom above their doorway to keep away unwanted guests and negative energies as well as pinning the mal de ojo sigil around the walls for the look of evil and envy against their family. (evil eye)

“Cempasuchiles,” she murmured in awe when Alyssandra’s small garden came into view. It was the most of the orange flowers she had ever seen, all bright and lively and huddled together. 

“When the storm is over, you can grab as many as you’d like,” Alyssandra offered, peering over her shoulder, unlocking the door to her cottage. She nods following her inside whilst giving a grateful smile. 

The interior of the cottage was small, meant only for one person to take residence. The same size as what a studio apartment would be back in the states.

In no way was the inside minimal, in fact it was the opposite. Almost all of the walls were covered with shelves with small trinkets adorning inside such as little statues, crystals, herbs and other supplies. 

In the center of the room lay a huge stone like table, old and antique bearing the resemblance of something medieval. And something about it, sent shivers down her spine along with the same faint voice, telling her to run. 

She ignored it, again. 

“Give me your belongings, and change into this,” Alyssandra says, tossing a strappy white chemise. She exchanges her poor-soaked mercado bags that contained pan de muerto, churros, and tamales for her ancestral ofrenda. (bread of the dead, offering)

She turns around to protect her modesty, seeing as there was no other room to change nor did Alyssandra point her to the bathroom, so she lifts the drenched garment over her head and sheds away the last clothing she had on her body, leaving her completely bare in her birthday suit. 

She couldn’t help but to feel Alyssandra’s eyes watching her very intently, examining every inch of her body as if it met her standards or so. She knows she should use her hands to cover up and give Alyssandra a piece of her mind, or better yet introduce her to a knuckle and hand sandwich for the way she was looking too closely.  

Yet her body feels frozen, unable to move under the green eyed woman’s gaze. 

“Would you like some tea to keep you warm?” Alyssandra asked, moseying to the kitchen. 

She blinks, whatever paralyzing feeling she had dispelled away. “Um, yes thank you.” Alyssandra nodded, pulling what looked to be a kettle on the stove. Meanwhile, she slipped on the white chemise in a hurry to not feel as exposed anymore. 

She takes the time to analyze the rest of Alyssandra’s cottage as she hears the droplets of rain hit the rooftop harder and the sound metal being filled with water. Various of the same purple flower plants were placed near the entrance, she notes to herself that these couldn’t possibly be lavender but another species or something within the same family. 

A small cot laid in the corner close by the hearth, with multiple open ancient books and scrolls spread on top of the bedspread. She almost wants to look through the pages and read Alyssandra’s interests but she doubts she could as she observes the handwriting is unreadable from where she stood. 

She walks forward to where the hearth is, feeling slightly warmer as something immediately catches her eye. Above the mantle, hung on the wall was a medium sized portrait of a small boy, appearing no more than three years old. He stood straight, almost regally with his hands behind his back. His face held no gentleness or warmth like a child should have. 

Gods forgive her, but the child looked cruel like the gueritos who bullied her in elementary school when she was just trying to make new friends. (white boys) 

Though, for an evil looking child, he sure was beautiful. The most striking thing about him was his set of eyes. Wide with his left eye a dark violet and his right a dark green similarly to Alyssandra’s. His hair was straight and cut short right below his ears. She looked closer at the portrait, thinking if her eyes deceived her as she noticed the peculiar color of the boy’s hair. 

Silver. 

Curiosity takes the better of her as she asks, “Is that your son?” 

Alyssandra turns, holding two mugs of steaming tea. “Yes, that’s my beautiful little boy,” She places both glasses on the stoned table before she sits adjacent to her. It doesn’t go unnoticed by her the sad look on Alyssandra’s eyes. “He looks like you,” she points out though it’s somewhat of a lie in hopes to lift up Alyssandra’s spirits.

Alyssandra throws her head back in a chortle, “For all my hard work and labor, I had hoped he looked like me but nature loves to play its cruel jokes. He is a replica of his bastard father.” The thought of her son’s father left a sour and disgusting taste in Alyssandra’s mouth. 

Alyssandra focused her attention back to her, “What about you?” She asked, sitting rather too straight. 

“Do you mean if I have kids? Gods, no.” 

Alyssandra smirked, “I take it you don’t like the idea of children. I did not either but after years of solitude, I changed my mind. I had other children before my son, but all of them died before they were due. You, however, are still young. Your mind can still change.” 

She shifted in her seat anxiously, sipping the odd taste of the herbal tea Alyssandra provided. It wasn’t like she did not like children. She respected children and found them quite cute with their little tiny hands and feet and infectious laughs. But besides the point of appearance, children were a tremendous amount of responsibility that she found herself not ready for.

Not now. Not ever. 

She could barely handle taking care of herself. Much less care and provide for a child for eighteen years or so. 

“I don’t—” 

“Oh but you will,” Alyssandra fired back without so much as blinking an eye. 

She grimaced, knowing where this conversation was heading. And it was about to be a not so pretty one. She glanced at the window by the door, the rain was still heavy if not more.

“I thank you for giving me shelter. But I really must go. I was only just supposed to be out for some groceries and my abuela is probably wondering where I am.” Polite and respectful enough just as her mama taught her.

She grabbed her belongings that were hanging by the fire and stuffed them inside her mercado bag. Her hand was on the cusp of prying the door open when Alyssandra rushed to her side, wrapping her hand around her wrist. 

“Wait. Please don’t go.” Alyssandra pleaded, “It’s just that you remind me much about myself. I didn't mean to cause offense, I’m sorry.” 

Run. Say no and run now, While you still can…

There it was again that same paralyzing feeling closing in on her feet, preventing her to move. It was strange like a shield gluing both her legs down. 

She nodded, murmuring ‘fine’ under her breath as Alyssandra slowly led her back to the woven chair with such gentleness as a porcelain doll. “I still need to call my abuela, so she can know I’m alright.” 

Alyssandra twisted her face in a wince, “I’m afraid we’re too far out for any signals to catch a telephone call.” She held back the overweening snicker to herself, it was why Alyssandra chose her cottage to be settled this far out in this very modernized realm; so no one could find her. 

Alyssandra wasn’t lying. No matter how hard she hit her Iphone against her palm or moved it around, there had not been a single signal bar glowing. She wondered if her abuela had started to grow worried and perhaps began to search for her. She hoped she didn’t and that her cousins kept her preoccupied with the rest of the decorations to notice the duration of how long she’d been out. She also wondered if they were still going to the cementerio, to clean and decorate the graves of their loved ones but with the amount of thunder and rain, she’d doubt it was still on the agenda. (cemetery)

Alyssandra prepared some more tea as the fire gradually faltered down. This one had a different taste than the previous one with tiny purple petals floating around. Alyssandra watched very intently as she sipped every last drop while she scarcely touched her own mug.

The green eyed woman began asking her multiple personal questions, mostly about where she was originally from (due to the fact that her vocabulary deemed to be more vehement in English than Spanish), her family, and if she had any siblings. She had answered them all. Letting her know that she was just visiting from the states to celebrate Dia de Los Muertos with her family she had not seen since the death of her sweet abuelo. (grandfather)

Alyssandra’s eyes glimmered even more when she explained how strangely, her very stern and overprotective mama had suddenly let her travel by herself to a country she had never been to in years since she was small. Her mama preferred her to be where she could keep a close eye on her because ‘uno nunca sabe’ especially if you’re a woman. (one never knows)

It was odd, alright. Especially when her mama gave her money that she didn’t have, and enthusiastically wished her good fortune on her travels. Yup odd…

But not to Alyssandra.

Alyssandra sat down after cleaning both mugs ready to ask the hard hitting questions she’d been warming her up to. “Have you ever been with a man?” Her eyes widened before breaking rounds of deep laughter that made the sides of her ribs ache and cramp. 

However, there wasn’t an ounce of amusement displayed on Alyssandra’s face, but rather annoyance. What was so funny? It was a simple and uncomplicated question that meant no harm. At least not to her. He couldn’t harm her any more here. Alyssandra guessed perhaps it was the side effect of the tea making her humoristic. 

“No,” She replied, wiping the humoristic tears at the corner of her eyes. “The opportunity has never presented itself?” Alyssandra asked.

All the humor that previously lingered had gone swiftly away, realizing that Alyssandra was indeed asking something so personal to her. “No,” She shook her head, feeling her face hot and red. “People don’t look at me as someone they want to be with. They’d rather be with someone exciting, adventurous, and outing. And I’m neither of those things. I’m a homebody who’s idea of fun and adventure is living through fictional books.” She answered truthfully, too truthfully. 

Alyssandra watched her face transform into a deeper shade of red. “What is it?” She questioned, taking a hold of her hand, taking in the role of someone empathetic. 

“I want my first time to be special. Like the fairytales I grew up reading about with the grand Prince sweeping the young maiden off her feet and taking her to his castle…” The way her eyes reflected small flashes of light made Alyssandra almost feel guilty for her true intentions once the repercussions of the tea ran out. 

She remembers when she too wished for a dashing knight in shining armor to take her away, far away from the shit she had been through; the pain, the suffering, and the poverty. All of it. As Alyssandra grew well into her womanhood, she realized there was no knight coming to save her. Instead, there was a selfish Prince who spared her for his desires and her many talents beyond the acts of the flesh.  

But Alyssandra needed her to go. She needed that piece that was stolen from her. She didn’t want the risk of going back and facing him again and repeating through the hell and agony he put her through. So sending her for it seemed like the better alternative. 

“I know you probably think it sounds stupid–” She stammered, her face still beet red. 

“I don’t think it sounds stupid,” Alyssandra softly smiled, giving her hand a light squeeze. Judging by the serene look upon her face, it was a good lie that she seemed to believe. 

She smiled. Finally, someone who didn’t think of the idea of waiting for the right person was silly and unrealistic. 

Her smile deterred, sensing something trickle down her nose, dropping against the skin of her hand. 

Blood. Her blood. 

Run! 

“Alyssandra?” She whispered, puzzled at the sight of more blood spilling out of her nose. Every strand of hair in her arms stood, sensing a new type of alertness course right through her. She glanced at a very blurred Alyssandra with what looked to be a smirk written on her face. 

“W-What’s happening?” She stood from the chair, but that soon turned out to be a bad idea as her knees gave out, sending her straight to the stoned cold floor. She glanced up, watching as Alyssandra sauntered in front of her, and as much as she wanted to crawl away her body was glued to the floor. 

“Look,” Alyssandra said, crouching down at her level before she took her in her arms like a newborn baby, weighing little to nothing. “We don’t have much time. When you wake up, I need you to retrieve something of mine…” 

She felt her back collide on top of the stoned table, “What was in that tea?” She questioned but Alyssandra was quick to shush her. “It doesn’t matter now. You drank it all willingly.” There was no argument there. 

Alyssandra pulled out a jar with overflowing cempasuchil petals inside and circled the petals around her. Almost like a ritualistic circle she used to watch the brujas next door do. (witches)

“You need not to be afraid. You will not be harmed as long as you do what I say. Exactly as I say.” She gulped, nodding seeing as she had no other choice. “Bruja.” She spat but Alysssandra only chuckled, “I’ve been called much worse, little dove.” (witch)

Through the corner of her eye, she saw Alyssandra holding out a small knife. “I am in need of a sapphire. It was stolen from me many years ago. It is one of a kind, which is why when you see it you’ll know it is mine.” 

She momentarily shut her eyes as the dark haired woman rapidly cut the middle of her palm spewing her blood on top of the petals. “Once you’re successful, you’ll come back here with the sapphire and gather some of my materials. The marigold petals with your blood coating them; The blood of whom you took the sapphire from and lastly you’ll lay on top of my precious table here to be transported back.” 

There was an evil smile on her lips that she desperately wanted to punch it off. “And if I don’t get the sapphire?” She questioned. 

Alyssandra combed away her unruly braided hair, “Then I won’t bring you back and you’ll be stuck there forever.” 

Fuck. 

“Stuck? Stuck where? Where am I going?” 

Alyssandra clicked her tongue, “A place where fairy tales do not exist, my little dove.” If she wanted a Prince to sweep her off her feet. Alys would gladly give her one. 

She attempted to wiggle herself out of this pendeja’s spell but whatever Alyssandra mixed in the tea it was compelling her body to still and her eyes to slowly falter shut in a peaceful sleep. (dumbass) 

“However I should warn you, this spell is only valid until tomorrow. Until Dia de Los Muertos is over and even if you do achieve in retrieving the sapphire but it is after November second, you'll be permanently trapped with him.” 

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[gracklecracklepop]

i need to make a post on why i draw 3/4 of the pd nonwhite can i trust the jrwi fandom 2 be normal. awesome. lots of posts today lesgo (this got really long so under the cut)

vyncent is like canonically vaguely asian whatever the fuck that means but he is just generically mixed SEAsian king 2 me. he cannot name any part of his heritage and he’s real 4 that. anyhoo. i think his actual like straight up immigrant allegory is smth more people should think about!!! people are thinking your weird for not knowing what something is??? holy fuck!!! social fumbles??? fuck!!! yeah!! anyway. and the assumption of a dumb immigrant and how people perceive him as that and are actually confused when he can stand his ground and say stop talking at me. yeah. anyway asian king and the feeling of being stuck in someone’s perception of you is something imma bring up w dakota too so.

dakota. yeah. i usually draw him Black or mixed and i think this is important regarding his backstoryyyyy. poc and esp Black families aren’t given the same support sometimes in grieving and that Can lead to drug abuse moreoften so. that happens with alaska. and dakota is in this place of i need to be strong because people will pick on me if im weak and alaska needs me. that’s basically canon but boy if you imagine it in a poc way. 100 damage. so you look outwardly strong to everyone else but like!! you’re just a kid!!! and adultification!! ur a 16 year old boy and you just want to be silly!!! and then people still see you like this and you think but that’s not me!!! but you can’t drop this now either. so you’re stuck between being seen as weird by white peers and weak by poc peers.

mixed latina-white for our girl ashe and it Is important that she doesn’t remember anything she might’ve learned from her mother. her brain made space for the demon language by shoving out her other language or smth. but yeah so you kill your mother and a couple years later you realise oh, i have nothing from my culture and my father can’t help me with this. he doesn’t know how to help keep my hair healthy or what those words mean or how to throw a quince. so ashe spends her time in online school clubs and internet forums but somethings still missing. she finds tutorials for her hair and starts doing language courses but there’s still Something missing. because she’s being taught this by someone she doesn’t know or who’s just a face behind a screen and. yeah. the disconnect from her culture is something vyncent Kind of gets but she’s alone in this. so yeah ashe is someone who became moreeee. timid. in physical spaces. to keep eyes off of her and not dissect whatever is wrong with her. why she doesn’t pronounce that correctly or why she walks around with a white father.

anyway. thats it. dont kill me.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Rita Moreno (Singin' in the Rain, West Side Story)—She’s an EGOT, an absolute legend for how she navigated her career as a woman of color in the fifties and sixties. Her performance as Anita in West Side Story is why I go back to that movie so many times. She is an icon and she is the moment.

Angela Lansbury (The Harvey Girls, The Court Jester, The Manchurian Candidate)—The babe, the myth, the legend. In her own words her early hollywood roles were "a series of venal bitches" and they were all glorious. Half of them wanted to kill you and you probably would have thanked them. She even goes toe to toe with Judy Garland in The Harvey Girls! That said, she was chronically underused and misused during this era - she was just 36 when she was cast as Elvis Presley's mother in Blue Hawaii and a few years later commented that she'd played so many 'old hags' that most people thought she was in her 60s. She thought she was "all talent, no looks" but she was the full package! Post-1970 I hope we all know what an incredibly talented and compassionate badass she was, but I feel like not enough people know her early roles as a hot (often villainous) young thing.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Rita Moreno propaganda:

"Amazing showstopping actress in her one big memorable role as Anita in West Side Story. She sings and dances with unmatched joy and energy, and then breaks your heart with her acting. Rita took a role that felt as a stereotype to latina women and made it compelling and multifaceted. Her subsequent career was filled with mostly side roles, but she still managed to excel in whatever Hollywood threw at her."

"It’s Rita!! The EGOT herself! She can act, she can sing, she can dance, a triple threat. Obviously absolutely iconic as Anita in West Side Story (her part of the Tonight Quintet is the sexiest part of the film, fight me). But before that she was the amazing Zelda in Singin’ In the Rain!?! Thanks Zelda, you’re a real pal."

"She continues to be amazing but also she's got legs for days."

"THEE iconic rita moreno, EGOT winner, civil rights activist, theatre legend. watch her documentary "Rita Moreno: Just a Girl Who Decided to Go for It". also her rendition of "fever" on the muppet show"

Angela Lansbury:

"Angela Lansbury might not be where your mind goes first when you think of hot leading women, because she had a later career revival. But she began acting in the early 1940s after leaving London due to the Blitz. In the first couple decades of her film career she has an openness about her. She said she never really fit in with the Hollywood crowd and to me she gives off a friendly, untarnished vibe."

64.media.tumblr.com

64.media.tumblr.com

"Most of us know Angela Lansbury as old lady sleuth Jessica Fletcher, but it's important to know that she was smoking hot in her younger days as well as a damned fine actress. Although she didn't get lead roles until her early 40s, at 17 she was a supporting actress in films such as Gaslight (1944), National Velvet (1944), and The Picture of Dorian Grey, for which she won the Golden Globe for best supporting actress and was nominated for the Oscar. Even in her memorable performance as the manipulative mother in The Manchurian Candidate, she is listed as a supporting actress as she does not play the love interest. She was successful both on stage and screen, and won the Tony for her lead role in the musical Mame on Broadway in 1966. TL;DR While Angela Lansbury mostly played supporting roles in films before 1970, she had what it takes to be a leading actress, which we know from her success on stage and tv from the mid 60s onward"

"She looked like a princess but bit like a viper"

"Is there anything this woman couldn't do? Act in comedy and drama, sing, dance, be a wonderful human being - quite simply a true and wonderful lady."

"she is the fairytale princess of my dreams in court jester"

"god she had such an incredible career all throughout her life really but as a young lady she was just as incredible as she was in her later years. enchanting voice, amazing personality, and absolutely GORGEOUS. she lamented not having the looks to play leads in romance but that idea is so batshit because look at her??? she's one of the most terrific women of all time. also she's my grandmother's favorite actress and i truly get it"

[knownoshamc]

sorry not sorry to bring this up again, but

Netflix removed Palestinian movies. They (movie/tv industry) fired Melissa Barr.era, a latina actress that spoke against the genocide. They kept actors from St.ranger Thin.gs even though they openly support the genocide. They cut the scenes of May Cala/mawy, a Palestinian/Egyptian actress from a major movie. Those are the examples of the top of my head. Keeping Assad Zaman's name (a non christian name) out of the press/promotion and now out of the nomination, despite the fact that he had much more screen time than Sam, who will also be the lead the next season (so plenty time for him to shine), is just... not a coincidence.

And I don't think anyone in the US, or the world for that matter, doesn't know about these things happening, if not in the movie/tv industry, but in the world (US support of I.srael for example). So I can't accept that people that don't get (to put it mildly) why people find problematic that Assad is not nominated... don't fully know what's up. Just because some people want to pretend Assad is not a South Asian/Bengali Muslim, but a white Christian American/Brit, it doesn't make it so.

[adrienneleclerc]

Hey love your writing could you maybe write Hispanic reader x Alex and Charles like maybe a 3 way relationship and the reader is pregnant if your comfortable

Hello! I could totally write a polyamorous relationship/throuple with Alex, Charles, and Hispanic reader! So I don’t know if you meant they’re together and she ends up pregnant and if she’s already pregnant so I’ll write about Y/N ending up pregnant and Alexandra and Charles being there for her. Sorry it took me so long, I don’t know if this is what you wanted but I hope you like it regardless!

The Happy Throuple

Paring: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader x Alexandra Saint Mleux

Summary: After a night of celebrating Charles’s Grand Prix win, Y/N ends up pregnant

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: i have researched things about pregnancy and GUESS WHO’S GRADUATING TOMORROW! Maybe I’ll post pictures at the end of a fanfic, who knows.

Everyone knows that Charles and Alexandra are dating, there are so many photos of them together at events. However, no one knows there’s a third person in their relationship and that person is Y/N L/N. People know that Y/N and Alexandra are best friends and roommates because they met at a party so no one finds it strange when Y/N is also at the paddock with Alexandra.

Y/N and Alexandra were wearing something red while observing the race from the hospitality with Leo on Alexandra's lap.

“Do you think Charles is gonna get P1?” Y/N asked Alexandra.

“I hope so, he gained 4 spots, he looks like he is doing pretty well." Alexandra commented, petting Leo who was wagging his tail all happily.

They were watching the TV closely, Alexandra put Leo on the ground so he could run around, Charles and Max were very close but towards the end, Charles did an overtake and ended up getting P1, Max gets P2, Lewis get P3. Y/N and Alexandra were cheering and they hugged.

"Yay, our muñeco won." Y/N said.

"Yeah, come, lets meet him out in the garage." Alexandra said, picking up Leo before taking Y/N's hand to lead her to the Ferrari garage. They spotted Charles's car so when Charles got out of his car, he went to Alexandra to hug and kiss her, he hugged Y/N and was about to lean in for a kiss when Y/N moved her head so he just kissed her cheek, immediately remembering no one knows about their true relationship. Charles got Leo out of Alexandra's hands and let Leo give him little dachshund kisses.

Charles said goodbye to the girls and Leo before he went off to do the post race interview. After that, Charles went to get Alexandra and Y/N so they could go to their hotel. They walked to Charles's car, Alexandra walking Leo on his little leash, and they got in. Charles drove to the hotel and once they made it to the room, Charles kissed Y/N.

"Finally! I have been wanting to do that since I got out of the car." Charles admitted.

"Yeah, well this relationship has to be under wraps sadly." Y/N said, sitting on the bed. Alexandra sits next to her, placing her hand on Y/N's thigh.

"But it's 2024, mon papillon, I'm sure people will understand." Alexandra says, placing a kiss on Y/N's neck.

"Fans, yes, but what about press? Charles, you are signed until 2028, i don't want to jeopardize that." Y/N said. Now Charles sat on Y/N's other side.

"You won't, mon ange. But let's go out to eat." Charles suggested.

"Its Las Vegas, wouldn't you rather party with the rest of the grid?" Y/N asked.

"We could always celebrate a different way." Charles said, his eyes darken with lust.

"It is Vegas after all, mon papillon. And we have to give the Grand Prix winner his reward after all." Alexandra said, turning Y/N's head so she was facing her before leaning in for a kiss, her tongue tracing Y/N's bottom lip so she would open up, and she did. While they made out, Charles began planting kisses on Alexandra's neck while Alexandra started to undress Y/N and well, what happend in Vegas stays in Vegas.

The next day, Y/N was still in bed, cuddling with Alexandra while Charles took the liberty to order room service and take Leo out on his morning walk. Y/N woke up because Charles put Leo on the bed.

"Ay Leo, Charles, why did you put him on the bed?" Y/N asked, getting up and putting on a hotel robe.

"Because i wanted you to eat breakfast before we go to the airport and I know if i woke you up, you would’ve probably stab me." Charles, said, before Y/N kissed him.

"With what knife, baby?" Y/N asked, taking a strawberry from the breakfast spread, biting into it.

"Trust me, mon ange, you would have found something to stab me, never said it had to be a knife." Charles said and Alexandra woke up, she put on her pajamas, and put Leo on the ground before giving Y/N and Charles a morning kiss.

"What time do we have to go back to Monaco?" Alexandra asked, sitting down to eat the pancakes Charles's ordered.

“Plane leaves in a few hours so you have time to eat and get dressed.” Charles said.

“Great, I’m gonna take a shower, Y/N, come join me.” Alexandra said.

“Mm, i want to eat first.” Y/N said.

“Okay, we’ll eat then shower.” Alexandra said, patting the seat next to her so Y/N could sit down.

They ate, showered, and changed.

“Okay I think I have everything but I’m not sure.” Y/N said, looking over her luggage.

“If you end up missing anything, I’ll replace it.” Charles said, kissing her temple.

“In that case, I’m missing a Dior bag, a Dyson air wrap, a Tiffany bracelet.” Y/N joked and Charles was laughing.

“Yeah, okay.” Charles said, Alexandra entered the hotel room with grocery bags and Leo on a leash.

“I bought some chips for Y/N since he gets snacky on the plane, I have some treats for Leo, I got candy for me, and I got you some snacks too.” Alexandra said,

“Perfect, looks like we are ready to go.” Charles said.

Two weeks have passed since Las Vegas and Y/N was currently in the hotel room in Abu Dhabi, puking her guts out in the bathroom, Alexandra right behind her soothing her back and holding her hair back.

“You’re okay, Mon papillon. Charles, could it be something she ate?”Alexandra asked

“I’m looking at the food, I don’t think anything should have affected her last night.” Charles said, entering the bathroom. “Mon ange, are you sure you don’t have the flu?” Charles asked.

“Mon beau, she doesn’t have a fever.” Alexandra said.

“Stop talking about me like I’m a child.” Y/N groaned with her head still hovering the toilet bowl.

“Oh, but you are our baby, Mon ange, we will treat as such.” Charles said and Y/N puked more. “Yeah, we can’t get on the flight today, I’ll just tell Fred we need an extra day, you can’t fly when you’re sick.” Charles left the bathroom to make a phone call.

“Mi reina, i gotta tell you something.” Y/N said, wiping her mouth and resting her back against the wall.

“What happened?” Alexandra asked,

“I think I’m late.” Y/N said.

“Wait, how do you know you’re late? Isn’t your period irregular like all the time?” Alexandra asked.

“Yes but my breasts feel sore too, I am so tired, it can’t be a coincidence that I’m puking right now, right?” Y/N said.

“You’re right. It’s only been two weeks though, if we want to be sure, it needs to be 3 weeks after you’ve had sex so next week. Think you can wait until next week to take the pregnancy test?” Alexandra asked,

“Yeah, of course I can wait.” Y/N said.

It’s next week, the season was over, they’re all in Monaco, Y/N is in Alexandra’s apartment.

“Okay so how are we going to get the pregnancy test?” Alexandra asked.

“Well i can’t go, people link you to me, I can’t be seen buying the test or they will think it’s for you and I rather not have Charles find out one of us might be pregnant through some WAG account.” Y/N said,

“Okay, fine, call someone.” Alexandra said, Y/N nodded and called her friend Cordelia. An hour later, Cordelia knocked on the apartment door and Y/N answered it.

“thanks again, Cordelia.” Y/N said,

“Yeah no problem, are we hoping it’s positive or negative?” Cordelia asked.

“Well he always wanted a family…we’ll see.” Y/N said, saying goodbye to Cordelia, closing the door. “Okay, I’m ready.” Y/N entered Alexandra’s bathroom and Alexandra just stood outside the door. “Like am I ready to be a mom? I don’t fucking know, I’m barely 22, does Charles want to be a father now? Like I know he wants to be one someday but now?”

“Papillon, relax, you are stressing out and that can’t be healthy.” Alexandra.

“Reina, please.” Y/N said. A few minutes later, she opened the bathroom door and Alexandra came in.

“What does it say?” Alexandra asked.

“I have to wait 10 minutes.” Y/N said. “What am I going to do? I’m not even working!”

“With Charles as the father, you’ll be taken care of.” Alexandra said,

“This is not helping, I don’t want to be a kept woman.” Y/N said. Her and Alexandra kept talking until her timer went off. Both checked the test.

“I guess you’re pregnant.” Alexandra said and Y/N began crying so Alexandra hugged her

“What am I going to tell my parents?” Y/N sobbed in Alexandra’s arms,

“Well first things first, we HAVE to tell Charles.” Alexandra told her.

“I know, I know. But he’s with Pascale now, I don’t want to interrupt.” Y/N said.

“Fine, when he gets back from his mom’s, we will tell him. I thought you took birth control?” Alexandra asked.

“I don’t take my prescription pills as often as I should be (guilty 🤪) you should know that by now.” Y/N said and Alexandra rolled her eyes.

“And you tell us that you don’t want to be treated like a child, let’s go to Charles’s apartment and wait for him there, being the test.” Alexandra said, opening the door to leave.

“Yes ma’am.” Y/N said following behind.

The women entered Charles’s apartment and noticed Leo wasn’t here.

“He must have Leo with him.” Alexandra commented, closing the apartment door and Y/N started arising the fridge. “Can you not?”

“I’m eating for 2, querida, I think I’m allowed to raid his fridge,” Y/N said but… “There’s a lot of healthy shit in here.” Alexandra rolled her eyes.

“Just wait until…” Alexandra started but was interrupted by Charles entering the apartment, Leo running to say hello to the two women.

“Mon ange, ma Belle, what are you guys doing here?” Cablees asked, kissing both women.

“Um, I have something to tell you. You might need to sit down for this.” Y/N said and Charles nodded, sitting on the couch. “So remember that night in Las Vegas and how I was sick in Abu Dhabi?” Charles nodded, holding Y/N’s hands in his. “I’m pregnant.”

“Are you sure? Aren’t you on birth control?” Charles asked.

“You know I don’t take them as often as I should and you could have used a condom, by the way.” Y/N said.

“Are you sure you’re pregnant? Those tests are prone to false positives.” Charles said.

“Well it’s been said that for the most accurate results, the test must be taken 3 weeks after sex, which I did. But I’ll go to my doctor to check too.” Y/N said fiddling with her hands. “I’m gonna go to the bakery, I’ll be back.” Y/N left the apartment.

“If she is pregnant, what’s going to happen?” Alexandra asked Charles.

“Then I’ll be a father and I’ll raise the baby with you two,” Charles replied as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“But are we going public or what? If you say you’re going to be a dad and they don’t see me showing but see Y/N, what do you think is going to happen?” Alexandra asked.

“We will figure it out. If Y/N is truly pregnant, I’ll announce on Instagram that we’re together.” Charles said.

“Talk to Ferrari before you make that decision.” Alexandra said.

“Yeah of course I will.” Charles said and Y/N came back with the cookie croissant.

“I made an appointment for 2 weeks.” Y/N said.

“I’ll go with you.” Charles said.

“Mm, you Can’t, no one knows about us, it’ll be weird if you are seen going with me to a medical practice.” Y/N said.

“But I want to be there for you.” Charles said.

“Would it be less weird if I came too?” Alexandra asked.

“This is ridiculous, we’ll just go in separate cars. I’m going to my apartment because I really want bistec empanado and some sopita and you’re lacking groceries.” Y/N said before leaving.

It was the day of the OBGYN visit, Y/N was with Charles and Alexandra in the waiting room.

“You think we can go out to eat after this?” Y/N asked Charles and Alexandra.

“Yeah sure, where do you want to go?” Alexandra asked.

“Wait, we need to make your diet pregnancy friendly.” Charles said,

“Muñeco.” Y/N whined, Charles was going to say something when.

“Y/N L/N.” The medical assistant called, Y/N stood up along with Charles and Alexandra. “You can’t really bring anyone in.”

“We’ll stay here.” Alexandra said, sitting back down with Charles while Y/N went into the exam room.

“Alright Y/N, you think you might be pregnant, yes?” She asked.

“Yes, it’s been 5 weeks since ‘conception’ i guess, I haven’t had my period at all in these 5 weeks.” Y/N said.

“But you are consistently irregular too, right?” The assistant asked

“Yes, which is why I’m here for the blood test to confirm I’m pregnant.” Y/N said.

“Okay then, we’ll do your physical exam and then the blood test.” The assistant said and after it was said and done, the assistant who took her blood said she would call Y/N with the results.

“Alright, let’s go, I want Italian.” Y/N said and as they were leaving the obgyn, Y/N had the urge to throw up so she ran into the hallway bathroom, got into a stall, and puked. Alexandra walked in to check on Y/N while Charles made a phone call to schedule a meeting with Ferrari’s media team.

“Hey, you’re okay. If we get Italian food, you’re getting stracciatella or whatever soup is on the menu.” Alexandra said.

“Why is it called morning sickness?” Y/N said, before puking again.

“I Don’t know, Mon papillon.” Alexandra said, trying to comfort her. “You okay? I’ll wait for you outside.” Y/N nodded and Alexandra left to wait in the hallway with Charles.

“I’m talking to the Ferrari media team.” Charles said,

“You sure?” Alexandra asked.

“Of course I am. I’ll video chat with them later today and let the whole world know I’m dating 2 beautiful women and that I’m going to be a father.” Charles said, kissing Alexandra. Y/N walked out of the bathroom.

“How about you order in, I need to lie down.” Y/N said, holding her stomach.

“Whatever you want, Mon ange.” Charles said. They left the practice, Alexandra took Y/N’s car and Y/N rode with Charles, both drove to his apartment. In the apartment, Y/N was taking a nap with Leo while Charles set up his laptop to talk to the media manager of Ferrari.

“Hello Charles, what did you want to talk about?” The manager asked.

“I need to tell you something. As you know, I am in a relationship with Alexandra, BUT it’s not only her, it’s her friend Y/N as well, all 3 of us are together.” Charles said.

“Okay, okay, okay, it’s 2024, it’s almost 2025, surely the public will be okay with a…it’s called a throuple, right?” He asked,

“Yes, yes, it’s a throuple. But that’s not the only thing I wanted to tell you about. Y/N is also pregnant.” Charles said.

“Let me get this straight; you want to post on your Instagram that you are in a polyamorous relationship and that you’re going to be a father?” He asked,

“Yes.” Charles said.

“You do understand the scrutiny that not only you will put yourself under, but your girlfriends as well?” The manager asked.

“I do, sir.” Charles responded.

“Very well then, post if you must.” The manager said before saying goodbye.

The next day, Y/N woke up to her phone ringing, turning over to see Alexandra is still sleeping, she answered the call.

“Good morning, am I speaking to Y/N L/N?”

“Yeah, this is she.” Y/N replied.

“Congratulations, you are 4 weeks pregnant, the first trimester is crucial so a healthy diet is recommended, have a great day.” The phone call ended. Y/N woke up Alexandra.

“Ma papillon, it’s a little early, don’t you think?” Alexandra asked.

Mi reina, the doctor’s office called, I am 4 weeks pregnant.” Y/N said and Alexandra kissed her before she pulled her in for a hug.

“Oh my god, we have to tell Charles, I mean it was obvious you’re pregnant but now it’s doctor official.” Alexandra was over the moon by the news. “Okay Um let’s get dressed and head to Charles’s apartment.” They got dressed and Alexandra drove to Charles’s apartment.

Alexandra opened the door and Leo scrambled to say hello. Walking in further, they heard the shower running and stopping. Charles walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Mon ange, ma Belle, what are you doing here?” Charles asked.

“I’m 4 weeks pregnant.” Y/N said and Charles hugged her, twirling her around and putting her down.

“That’s amazing, I’m going to be a dad, oh my gosh, we need to make a diet plan for you, I’ll call Andrea and ask what should we buy.” Charles said pacing around the room. “Should you be taking prenatal vitamins?”

“I have to ask my doctor after the first ultrasound in a few weeks. But yeah, call Andrea for a meal plan.” Y/N said, “I’m gonna use your bathroom.” While Y/N went to the bathroom, Charles took to Instagram.

charlesleclerc many of you know my beautiful girlfriend, Alexandra. Most of you also know her best friend Y/N, who is also my beautiful girlfriend. The three of us are in a throuple or polyamorous relationship, however you want to call it. They are the loves of my life and if I am going to be a father, I thought it was time for the mother of my child, my other girlfriend, to be known.

Comments have been disabled

“Wow, can’t believe you did it.” Alexandra said when she saw his Instagram. “Oh I love that photo of Y/N, she’s so beautiful.” Alexandra said.

“Yeah, I am all in, I am not hiding Y/N anymore.” Charles said and his phone started ringing. “It’s my mom.”

“You didn’t think of telling her she’s a grandma before Instagram?” Alexandra asked.

“I didn’t think, okay.” Charles said before answering his phone. “Bonjour, maman.”

Over the past few weeks leading up to the ultrasound, Charles and Alexandra have been googling what pregnant women should be eating, have been calling their mothers to ask how their pregnancies were, Charles even bought parenting books.

“You think it’s too soon for the baby to be hearing music?” Charles asked.

“I don’t think the baby has ears yet.” Alexandra said. “You’re like 9 weeks pregnant, it’ll take another 7 weeks for the baby’s ears to actually work, it says it all here.” Alexandra said pointing to her laptop screen.

“You two are fussing and I’m not even showing.” Y/N said.

“Well we want the baby to be healthy. Would you be Leclerc Saint Mleux L/N or Leclerc L/N Saint Mleux?” Charles asked,

“We’re not even married!” Y/N exclaimed laughing.

“Oh he is just excited. Your appointment is in an hour, we should get going.” Alexandra said.

To the OBGYN! Y/N was allowed to bring Charles and Alexandra since the doctor knows they’re situation. She lifted up Y/N’s shirt and placed gel on Y/N’s stomach, she shuddered from how cold it was. She got the “wand” and rubbed it over the gel.

“And here’s your baby.” The doctor said, Charles and Alexandra started tearing up, as was Y/N.

“It’s so small.” Charles giggled,

“I can’t believe it.” Y/N said.

“I am so happy.” Alexandra said.

“Well congratulations on becoming parents to a healthy baby.” The doctor said.

The End

Hope y’all liked it! I know it was a little long but hopefully it’s a good read

[cardboardheartss]

Hi, now since the election results are out. Can I ask like what will he the results after this if it makes sense. Is it going to get better or worse? I mean are there still any chances of seeing light? 🥲☝🏻

United States of America for the next 4 years under President Donald Trump Reading.

Overall affect on the USA

The Sun, KNoC rx, KNoS rx, The Lovers rx, KoS, 7oS rx, 10oW rx, 8oS, Empress

- what have y’all voted for?

I see that many people are going to regret voting for him! Like a lot of people! Mainly the ones who were boasting about it on social media and with people around them in general. It seems like Trump will also be deliberately and intentionally say very foul things about the people, I think I’m leaning heavily towards POC’s.

Looking at this�� I do get the feeling that Trump will be implementing Project 2025. Seems like he is relied up, and really wants to get this project started. The lovers card… this could mean that, the first rule he implements could be toward the LGBTQIA + community and maybe one of the other rules, can also lead to the decline of relationships, mainly male and female relationships.

Even during his power, we will come across MAGA supporters who will still believe everything and anything Trump says, as they put him on a really high pedestal. OR! We could see more celebs, mainly leaning towards more Male celebrities in particular who will be exposed for endorsing Trump for these elections and help him gain connections for the ‘Red Mirage.’

Looks like whatever Trump is passing for the Project 2025 is going to be putting Americans through a lot of pain and exhaustion. Expect many people to work low wage jobs for income, getting sick from overwork and etc. I know this usually indicates a card for standing for oneself, but this just speaks volumes of how tired and restless Americans will be after protesting and fighting for the next 4 years.

My fellow American women… looking at these cards. You all will be the main targets and at a higher detriment to be honest. It seems like Trump is definitely going to seriously enforce Anti-Abortion laws, and it seems like if you go against it, you will be locked up or deal with serious consequences. With that being said, more kids will be born, but will be unloved and will not be used to the natural “Motherly affection.” that many of us were lucky to have. It’s really not looking good, for you guys specifically. Another thing, if any female experiences Rape or any abuse, there could be some issues with gaining justice because, whatever Trump implemented, it’s not going to benefit any female.

White Americas for the Next Four Years

PoW, 9oS rx, KoW rx, 6oW rx, The Moon rx, 2oP

The more Trump speaks, the more they’ll regret it. They could possibly feel the same pain that Democratic Black/POC voters feel right now. I see this could also be heavily influenced by the Anti-Abortion laws because even they themselves will not get an upper hand in this and will be like everyone else. I see that many White Americans are going to suffer financially, and will have to rely on buying cheaper stuff in general just for the sake of saving more money.

Hispanics/Latinas for the Next Four Years

3oC, QoW, PoS rx, The Emperor, 3oS, 7oC

I see in the beginning, as we have witnessed today. Many of them are Pro-Trump, and they are really proud of it, and I don’t see that ending anytime soon. They will still be proud of the decision they made, because I’m sorry, and no offense, but they all have their heads stuck in the clouds.

I also get the feeling that, when Trumps 4-years are over, they’re going to be a bit heartbroken and will have to obviously re-elect again, and I see them struggling to pick the right party for themselves. A lot of division still I see…

Asian Americans for the Next Four Years

The Magician, The Tower, The Star rx, PoP, QoP rx, KoP, QoS, AoP, QoC, 6oS, Judgement, 3oP

Woah?! It seems like there could be an end of rising Asian celebs in America? I see that Trump may ensure some cut ties between the industry and Asian people. I see that someone may be paid off to actually do this. Oddly enough, I see a fued between two Asian nationalities, or that some Republicans will somehow pay Asian countries or other countries to take back their people?

And I actually do see that happening. Many Asian Americans will be moving away from America and find other countries to relocate to, but I see many rejections from those countries. I believe they’ll reject them because, they’ll want to give the same energy back from what they receive from Asians themselves when traveling.

Or they could face rejection from their own kind in the Asian continent.

Arabs for the Next Four Years

WoF, 2oW rx, 3oW rx, 4oC rx, Strength, 5oS rx

It seems a bit moderate. I see that they really won’t have much luck in general, I see that initially they believe they made the right choice for voting for Trump. As time progresses, they’ll slowly regret their choice for Trump. I see that there could be a rise of Islamophobia and racism towards them, and they’ll actually all sit and realize what exactly African Americans have been complaining for, for decades and will understand how much work it takes to fight for your race and safety.

African Americans for the Next Four Years

10oC rx, 10oS, AoC rx, 4oW, The Hierophant, 8oP rx, 5oC, 7oP rx, The Chariot, KoC rx, Justice

Obviously… never ending cycle of racism and divided communities. I do see that many families will still be made, but the connections and the energies will not be positive at all. Many Black men will conform to whatever is being said by the Republicans. This will lead to a lot of conflict and anger, and many Black people will be dissatisfied with these type of Black People.

There will be a delay in their businesses, and more of them will be held back and forced to not work. The government will truly be working against them thee most. Oh and the Justice system… will not be for any of them. Which is why, it is important, MAINLY NOW, for Black people to have their own proof and evidence because if not, the judge will 10000% throw them in jail.

So get your own little dash cams, recording devices and space for any video proof just in case you’re in danger.

Native Americans for the Next Four Years

KNoP rx, The Devil, PoC rx

No progression at all! I see they’ll still be gambling, and relying on Government money. It’s possible that Trump will decrease the amount that they need. There will still be struggles with drug/alcohol addiction, and issues with relationships, and still high rates of women and children going missing. A lot of broken dreams and trauma just being passed down from one to another.

Continuations of people affected

Muslim Americans

Palestine + Non-Voters + Third Party Voters

Well… that was one stressful reading. I was getting headaches thee entire time. Apart from that, this reading is quite saddening you know. I just don’t understand how the world can still be so Anti-Black and misogynistic?

EVERY SINGLE AMERICAN had the opportunity, right now to have elected Mrs Kamala Harris as the 47th President of the USA, but no! Everyone chose who?? Trump! Now look what’s going to happen to everyone?

I am praying and hoping that this will be a wake up call for every single one of you, to just put race and gender aside and vote for your rights! Now look, the women and marginalized groups are going to suffer!

Wishing you all thee bestest of luck, and from a completely different continent, I apologize to my fellow gays and women. It’s truly going to be a hard time for you all.

Please! Choose wisely everyone!💙🥺

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓕eel 𝓨our 𝓗eartlines ۪ ׂ   𓈒 ୭

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀vaquero!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. your family bought a new ranch next door to the o’haras. both families grew acquainted with each other. you and the eldest o’hara brother grow an interesting bond which lead to something more but your father isn’t necessarily fond of.

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. rancho!au, neighbors/enemies to lovers, forbidden love, fluff, angst, drama, tension, arguments, jealousy, smut, protected sex (yessir), fingering, truck sex, swearing, pet names, happy ending, hispanic/latina!reader ( mdni )

new start at a new home.

your parents bought a new ranch after selling the old one. it’s been in your family for generations but the time has come for a new home. however, there’s another ranch property next door.

the o’hara ranch.

rumored to be a woman and her two sons. according to your parents, they weren’t opposed to have another ranch near their property. in fact, thrilled to have neighbors. that ranch your parents bought hasn’t occupied in a few years.

the opportunity to meet them is the day you move.

the radiate sun was your enemy. the humid air made the move unbearable. a layer on sweat glistening over your skin from walking back and forth carrying boxes. summer is the worst time to move.

one particular box was a bit heavier than the previous ones you carried. your hand fails to grip it from underneath, causing it to slip out of your hands before another pair of hands catch it in time.

“i got it.”

a rich, baritone voice makes you look up to who it belongs to. your eyes dilate immensely.

a man who towers over you to a insane level. way too tall for the average male. thick brows with a pair of brown eyes. sharpest cheekbones you’ve ever seen on a man, so sharp you’ll get a paper cut if you drag your finger over it. and last, a set of very plump lips.

ay dios, he is handsome.

“cuiadado con eso.”

carlos, your older brother, walks by. “ay tonta, i told you i’ll get it pero no haces caso. gracias, miguel.” he turns to the man standing in from of you.

oh that’s his name.

you just roll your eyes at your brother. face turned to the said to conceal your embarrassment and frustration. cheeks slightly flushed.

“todo bien, carlos. i manage to catch it in time before miss manos de trapo here dropped it.” miguel chuckles, shooting a glance at you for emphasis.

your mouth dropped in offense and he smirks.

what an ass.

well yes, you were dumb to believe you could carry that damn box and should’ve waited for carlos to come get it. you were being stubborn but also trying to help as much as possible.

both men laugh at your reaction.

“cabrones.” you grumble, looking off to the side.

“cuiadao, hermana. don’t be mean to our neighbor.” carlos teases, nudging your shoulder.

you figured this man, miguel, is your neighbor. one of the o’hara brothers. one of the sons.

“well, i don’t think i’m the mean one when he’s talking shit about me with my brother.” you deadpan.

that elicits a chuckle from the said man. “ay chiquita, i’m not being mean. just stating the truth.” a teasing smirk graces his lips.

“no me llamas eso, cabrón.” you glare up at him.

the smirk grew wider. you want to slap it off.

“oh okay! lets get a move on, vale?” carlos clears his throat, sensing the tensions between you and miguel. clearly he didn’t expect this.

you walk away in a sassy manner, not sparing one last glance at your asshole neighbor. what you don’t see is him watching as you leave. brown eyes following your figure before he heads inside the house to put the big box away.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

it’s been a few weeks since you settled into the new ranch. you’ve grown to adore it. decorating your room was your favorite part. throughout those few weeks, you and your family quickly accustomed.

the only thing you weren’t accustomed to was the weekly visits from your neighbors. your dad, brother and the o’hara brothers been working together with both ranches. your mom and their mom, conchata, have grown to be friends. you don’t mind conchata or gabriel, the younger o’hara brother. the woman seems very nice and caring. she adores her two boys with all her heart. very determined and resilient woman. her husband died when the boys were young so she raised them on her own since. an admirable woman. gabriel is such a sweetheart, completely different from miguel. you first met him and he was very polite but also a big flirt. you like him more.

miguel, the o’hara sibling you dislike. ever since he started working with your dad and brother, you practically see him everyday. his large frame catching your eye form the window or porch. luckily, there hasn’t been many encounters other than quickly glances and smirks. he’s too busy working to talk to you and you prefer it that way.

however, you can’t deny observing him from afar as he worked outside. always wearing a pair of blue jeans con sus botas. switches between black, white or gray shirts that hug his muscles a little too tight. so tight you can see the outline of his abs. so tight on the sleeves his biceps are on display, those hairy muscular arms. flexing whenever he grabs or works on something. you’ve noticed la virgencita hanging around his neck when he passed by you at the ranch one day. he also wears either black or tan hat. when he takes it off, those messy brown curls are revealed. you bite your lip when he runs a hand through those curls then quietly curse to yourself when you catch yourself in the act. you hate him, not like him.

seeing that stupid smirk on his face when he notices you makes your body ignite on fire. brows furrowed and hands balled into fists while your heart beats like crazy. his entire existence makes your skin crawl. you’ve only met the guy for a few weeks and you despise him. he drives you fucking insane.

why do you wear the cutest outfits when he’s there? why do you apply extra perfume when he’s there? why do you check your breath a million times when he’s there? why do you keep doing these things?

he’s driving you fucking crazy.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

as you exit your room and step foot into the kitchen, your mother asks if you’ll take fresh lemonade for the men. part of your wanted to rip your hair out because you know you’ll run into miguel. as the obedient girl you are and know not to argue with your mother, you make the lemonade and take it outside.

carrying the tray of four lemonades, you walk over to the ranch. as you approach the table, you notice miguel at the stables from across. you were lost in trance as he maneuvered with the horse he was dealing with. quickly blinking, you snap out of it and place down the tray of lemonade. the family dog lola, a german shepherd, comes to your side. you happily pet her, smiling her happy face and wagging tail.

“nice to see you again, chiquita.”

the smile on your face vanishes and is replaced with a irritated look. slowly turning around, you see miguel standing in the opposite side of the table.

damn how the fuck did he get here so fast? he was literally just at the stables a few seconds ago.

“i said don’t call me that, cabrón.” you scowl.

“ay no hagas asi, hermosa. you love it when i call you that.” the bastard smirks as he drinks his lemonade.

“you’re so fucking annoying.” you spit. “rude and never listens. i applaud your mother for putting up with your stupidity.” you look away, arms crossed.

you don’t see his smirk falters a little. “hermosa, i’m not being rude or trying to be. it’s just teasing.” he sound a bit serious but you don’t buy it.

“whatever.” you roll your eyes. “vamos, lola.” you tap your thigh to signal her to follow you back to the house, which she did with her tail wagging happily.

a pair of brown eyes follow you, watching you leave. you fail to see the slight slump on his shoulders. miguel sighs before taking a another sip of the delicious lemon then heads off to join the others.

you and miguel both fail to see a third set of eyes form afar. a light, skeptical frown settles on your dad’s face as he witnessed the interaction. he can sense the tension and it didn’t sit right with him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

one evening, your parents decide to host a carne asada for family and friends. that also means the o’haras were invited, meaning miguel was invited.

oh you wanted to die.

but family members and friends would be there so you’ll be distracted with them. as long as you stay away from miguel, you’ll be fine.

after a fresh long shower, you wear a cute gingham dress con tus botas blancos. you add a few small white bow clips in your hair as accessories to feel more cute. makeup and hair done.

the background is filled with people, relatives and friends. loud music playing from the speaker. food on the table ready to be served. oh the delicious smell consumes your senses, making your tummy growl. you grab yourself a plate of food then venture off to meet up with your cousins. it’s been a while since you’ve seen them so you wanna catch up.

after finishing your food, “la chona” starts playing and everyone goes berserk. once you throw away your empty plate, you and your cousins rush to the dance floor along with everyone else and dance.

while dancing, a young man approaches you with a gentle smile. he’s introduced as javier, son of one of your father’s friends. tall, dark brunette, quite fit but not too much, sweet and handsome. you two dance together as you talk and occasionally flirt. apparently, he’s a comedian because he’s been making you laugh every time he tells a joke or funny stories.

what you fail to notice from afar is a pair of brown angry eyes. watching your every move the entire evening. miguel never took his eyes off of you, only when someone was speaking directly to him. the minute you stepped foot into the backyard, his pupils dilated and heart raced in his chest. how gorgeous you look that cute dress and tus botas. watching you dance for a bit finally gave him the courage to join you until that idiot waltzed in. his grip on his moledo tightened when javier wraps an arm around your waist and pull you closer towards him. his grip was so tight, miguel almost broke it in his fucking hand. a sting of jealousy and slight possessiveness bubbles in his chest. a huge frown on his face. oh he is pissed the fuck off. he didn’t like this encounter one bit.

after drinking lots of water and jamaica (drink), nature calls. quickly telling javier you’ll be back, you make a beeline for the house then the bathroom upstairs. luckily, no one’s in the house so it’s empty inside. after doing your business and washing your hands, you fix your appearance. detangling your hair and patting down any creases on your dress.

a subtle knock on the door makes you jump a little. “just give me a minute!” you call out nervously.

it truly caught you off guard. there’s a bathroom downstairs but perhaps it’s occupied too. there’s the master bathroom but supposed people don’t want to invade your parents’ privacy.

you finish fixing your appearance so the next person doesn’t have to keep waiting. just as you unlock and open the door, a gasp left your lips.

“miguel? what the fuck?”

the man stands before you. however, his sour expression captures your attention. you don’t have time to say anything else when he silently enters the bathroom, causing you to step back. he close the door behind him, his gaze never leaves yours. anxiety consumes your body at the sudden proximity. the hallway bathroom is quite small, leaving barely any room left for you to step back.

“miguel, what the fuck are you doing?”

“you seem having fun tonight.”

your brows furrowed. “it’s a party, of course i’m having fun.” you cross your arms.

“a little too much fun.” he takes one step closer.

“the fuck are you talking about?”

“ese pinche huevón who’s been probably telling you shitty jokes or whatever.” he takes another step.

javier. why the hell is he talking about him?

“you’re spying on me?! what the fuck, miguel? what’s wrong with you? what’s your problem?”

“my problem?” miguel’s frown deepens. “that fucking idiot had the fucking nerve to come up to you, dance and flirt with you like that.” he takes a step closer with each phrase.

you flinch when your back hits the wall. now miguel stands right in front of you. bodies merely touching, barely any space between you two. his hot breath hitting your face, or forehead due to the height difference. you have to crane your neck all the way up just to meet his gazes. your heart pounds in anticipation, lashes fluttering.

holy shit, he’s jealous.

“so you’re telling you have a thing for me this entire and decided to wait until i was with another guy?” you were half assumed and surprised.

his pissed off demeanor falters a little, softening up a bit. “y-yes…” miguel admits shamelessly, broad shoulders slumped a little. “i wanted to tell you but you hate me so much and refused to talk to me so i didn’t really have the perfect chance.”

you huff, shaking your head. “of course i hate you because you’re a fucking asshole. always throwing smartass remarks or insults at me.”

“i wasn’t insulting you, or at least i wasn’t my intention.” miguel frowns. “i was teasing because i like you, chiquita.” he said softly.

oh your heart did a summersault.

“seriously?” you were surprised wholeheartedly.

miguel scoffs, rolling his eyes with a smile. “que si, tonta. i’ve liked you since the moment i met you, catching that big box you almost dropped.”

you cringe at the memory. if only you knew how stupid you looked carrying that big ass heavy box. if only you knew he was watching.

“and i know you like me too.” miguel leans closer.

“it’s a mixture of infatuation and hatred.”

“see, infatuation.” he smirks smugly.

“don’t push it, cabrón.” you glare at him.

miguel lowly chuckles, amused by your sassy attitude. his eyes drop to your lips. glossy and begging for his. “do you know how many times i wanted to kiss those pretty lips but knew i couldn’t?”

your heart flutter at that confession. you wanted to say the same about his lips or wished he did kiss you but you decide to tease him.

“that’s too bad you couldn’t.” you fake pout, tilting your head in a teasing manner. “i was thinking the same with javi.” a smirk graces your lips.

you watch his brows furrowed immediately. that seductive look replaced with a pissed off one. his jaw clenches at the name of that guy.

damn, jealous looks so good on him.

“he’s so sweet and very attractive. a great dancer and has very kissable lips.” your smirk grows smugly.

there was no time to reaction when miguel grabs the back of your head, pulls you against him and smashes his lips on yours. you can’t resist smiling at his eagerness as you both endure in a messy makeout session. his lips devour yours with such hunger, basically eating your face off.

your arms reach up to his shoulders and wrap around them, standing on your tippy toes due to the height difference. miguel’s back is slightly bent so he can reach you but doesn’t give a shit if it hurts. both his hands travel down to your waist and pull you closer so there isn’t any space left between you two.

broad hands roam over your back, groping each curve. you melt under his addictive touch, becoming putty in his hold. you gasp when he lifts you up in his arms, grabbing the back of your thighs. your grip on his shoulders tighten instinctively. miguel plants you on the sink and settles himself in between your legs.

his lips trail down to your jawline then in the crook of your neck. you dig your fingers into his brown curls while the other hand wrapped around his thick neck. your eyes closed, relishing those kisses on your neck. a gasp left your lips when you feel his lips sucking that sensitive spot on your neck.

his hands fiddle with the top strings of your dress that conceals your breasts. after leaving a mark on your neck, which he smiles satisfyingly at, miguel trails down to your chest. he quickly glances at you for approval and you eagerly nod. untying the strings, miguel dives into your cleavage. leaving hot open-mouth kisses on the soft skin. his hands cupping and kneading your breasts. a soft moan escapes your lips at the sensation. throwing your head back, resting against the mirror. you take off his hat so you can play with his hair, tossing it on the toilet seat. he kisses, licks, and kneads your covered breasts with such desire and affection. he lets out a muffled groan when your fingers tug on his hair.

miguel moves down your body, leaving a trail of adoring kisses on the fabric of your dress. grinning at how your body sweetly responds to him. just as he reaches down to the one place where you desperately want him, he moves away and stands up.

“aww…” miguel mischievously chuckles at your pout and pissed off expression. “you thought you’d get what you want, huh bebita?” he brings a hand to your chin and lightly tilts it upward to meet his eyes.

“asshole.” you scowl, swatting his hand away.

“ay bebita, no hagas asi.” he taunts with a head tilt. “you were drooling about that huevón a few seconds ago. don’t you want him?”

you glare at him and he laughs, completely unbothered by it. oh you want to slap that stupid smirk off his devilish handsome face.

“es la verdad, hermosa. don’t you want him here instead of me?” his fingers lightly brush against your exposed thigh, sending jolts of excitement through your body. the hem of your dress scrunched up a bit.

you know he knows the answer. of course he’s fucking teasing you about this.

“i’m going to rip your balls off.” you threaten.

the bastard chuckles. “i don’t think you wanna do that if you want me.” very slowly, his fingers trail up your thigh, more towards your inner thigh. he chuckles again when your legs twitch at his touch.

“fine, fuck this shit.” you move to jump off the counter but his hands firmly hold you in place.

“ay bebita, you’re so stubborn.” miguel coos, gently tracing your cheek with the back of his index finger. “i’ll give you what you want—“

“ay no me jodas, miguel! just fucking touch me.” grabbing the back of his neck, you yank him towards you and smash your lips on his.

the movement caught him by surprise but indulges in it. his fingers trail up your inner thigh, sliding under your dress. you softly gasp when you feel his fingers gently rubbing your cunt through your panties.

“fuck— estas mojada, bebita.” miguel groans at the feeling of your soaked panties, all because of him. the pad of his fingers rubbing your covered pussy lips. he feels himself grow hard in his jeans.

his fingers slyly slide under your panties and play with your little cunt. a soft moan leaves your lips when he rubs your throbbing clit. fingers rubbing and flicking almost experimentally.

“you want me?” he whispers against your lips as his continues playing with your clit.

“fuck, yes~” you moan, cupping his face.

your lips collided again in a heated kiss as miguel slowly slides in two fingers in your pretty little pussy. you moan a bit louder in pitch at the sensitive before his other hand covers your mouth.

“as much as i want to hear those pretty sounds, can’t let anyone hear.” miguel whispers, a mix of seductiveness and sincerity. the last thing he wants is getting caught in your house.

he pumps his fingers at a slow pace. endless moans falling from your lips but muffled. fuck his fingers are so thick and long. they feel so fucking good.

“fuck, so tight, bebita.” he groans when your walls clench around his fingers. “driving me fucking insane, how you clench around my fingers like that.”

his fingers soon pick up pace. thrusting in and out of your tight cunt. instinctively, you roll your hips to meet his thrusts. desperate for more. miguel buried his face in the crook of your neck as he continues fingering you. you have one arm wrapped around his shoulders while leaning on the other, gripping the ledge of the counter for dear life.

you squeal when his thumb flickers your puffy clit as his two fingers continue pumping into you. your walls clench harder around his fingers.

“you’re gonna forget about that pinche huevón and think about me, si hermosa?” he asks, lips against your ear. “porque you want me, verdad? because i want you.” he states wholeheartedly.

you nod while being a babbling and moaning mess. miguel leaves kisses on your neck as he keeps pumping his fingers into you. with a few more flicks to your clit, you come with a muffed moan. gushing over his fingers, coating them in your sweetness.

very slowly, he slides out his fingers from your now sensitive pussy. you lean back against the mirror as you try catching your breath and recover from your high but his hand on your waist prevents you from slumping completely. miguel examines his two fingers glistening in your sweet nectar. two clear strings connect between them as he spreads them apart. he brings them up to his lips, licking off your sweetness. a moan of satisfaction.

“sweet, just like i imagined.” he hums contently.

grabbing a few sheets of toilet paper, miguel gently cleans up the mess in between your thighs.

“you okay?” he asks sincerely, tossing the toilet paper in the trash while his free hand gently moves away strings of hair from your face.

“yeah, never better.” you let out a weak laugh.

miguel smiles at your cute little laugh then gently kisses you, which you happily reciprocate. one hand cupping your cheek and the other on your thigh.

a ding! from your phone breaks the kiss. grabbing it next to you and looking at the screen, you see a text from your mom asking your whereabouts.

“gotta go before my mom flips out.” you chuckle.

“understandable.” miguel chuckles with you as he gently lifts you off the counter by the waist and carefully sets you on your feet.

you quickly glance down at your phone then at the huge bulge in his jeans. “sorry…” you shoot him an apologetic look.

miguel shakes his head with a soft smile. “no te procupes, bebita. maybe next time.” he winks as he helps you fix your dress.

you swat his arm and he laughs as you both exit the bathroom to rejoin the party.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

a forbidden romance between you and miguel blossomed. however, there were suspicions. conchata knew the minute she caught miguel staring at you from afar numerous times. it makes her smile to see her son falling in love. she knows you’re a good woman and treats you like her own. you’re perfect for her son. gabriel knows as well, he has seen the intense encounters between you and miguel. arguing and brickering but also longing gazes when one isn’t looking. he would give miguel shit and tease him all the time. suppose all that teasing finally paid off.

your mom is like conchata and every other mother. adored to see her daughter falling in love despite the tension between you and miguel. carlos was skeptical at first but accepts it because he knows miguel is a good man. your father, on the other hand, isn’t too thrilled of the idea. it’s not that miguel isn’t a good person but because he’s a known womanizer. your dad has seen the various women swinging by miguel, flirting and battering their lashes at him. he doesn’t want you to fall victim into lies. that’s why he’s been a bit harsh towards miguel lately.

although you’re unaware of everyone’s suspicions, you and miguel keep it very secretive. sneaking off to secluded places like the stables. have heavy makeout sessions, miguel fingering you. unfortunately, things couldn’t get spicer without almost getting caught or someone calling your name.

one day when your parents were gone into town, miguel sneaked you into his truck. he parked in a secluded area on the outskirts of the ranch.

“miguel, we can’t do this. what if they’re looking for us?” you can’t resist giggling as his lips leave butterfly kisses along your neck. you sit on his lap, straddling him in the backseat of his truck. both of you shirtless, you remain in your bra.

“your parents are out and won’t be back for a while. besides, gabriel and carlos got us covered.” his large hands roam over your body.

“miguel!” you swat his shoulder, giggling.

“¿que paso, bebita? they’ll let us know when your parents come back, lo prometo.” he continues those kisses among your neck.

you sigh softly, trusting him with your heart. you grow putty in his hold like always. his large lands roaming your body. your lips meet in a passionate kiss. your hands cupping his face. the tips of his fingers fiddle with the hem of your white skirt. you assume he wants to do the usual but the pleading look in those browns eyes say otherwise.

“do you… do you wanna do this?” he asks anxiously, eyes boring into yours.

you know immediately what he’s asking.

“yes.” you nod sincerely, caressing his cheeks.

“are you sure? i don’t wanna pressure you.”

your heart melts at his caring words. “si, bebito. i trust you and i want this.” you wrap your arms around his thick neck. “i want you.”

fuck. that’s all he needs to hear before worshipping the goddess you are. miguel captures your lips in another kiss. his fingers slide underneath your skirt not only to make you cum first but also to prep you.

after making you cum over his fingers twice, you were prepped enough. miguel hurriedly reaches a hand in his front pocket and pulls out a condom. he rips the tiny packet with his teeth. the sight makes you bite your lip. you follow suit by lifting up your skirt as he yanks out his aching cock from its confinements. the tip angry and red, desperate to be inside you. he rolls the condom over his cock. a shared moan mingles in the air as you slowly sink onto his cock. you grip tightly on his shoulders as support. his own gripping your hips.

“breathe, bebita.” he advises in a soft tone.

fuck he’s so big. when you first got a glimpse of it, you believed it was impossible for it to fit. of course it’ll be hard to take him. his soothing rubs on your thighs relaxes you a little as you try adjusting to his size. any “stop” or “wait” convinced him to pull out but you told him. just need time to adjust.

once you had time to adjust, you couldn’t hold back a moan at the feeing of being utterly full. he’s so deep inside, you can feel him in your tummy.

you both moan in unison as you slowly roll your hips. you move up and down in a slow pace, riding his cock. fuck he feels so amazing.

“fuck— asi, bebita. ride me.” he praises so sweetly.

you oblige, riding him. you didn’t save a horse but you’ll definitely ride a cowboy.

miguel soon picks up the pace due to your pleading for him to go faster. rolling his hips to meet yours. hands gripping your hips, your skirt brunched up in his fingers as his cock pounds into your tight little cunt. moans and groans mingles in the steamy air. the windows begin to fog up. miguel throws his head back against the seat, relishing the feeling of your pussy squeezing the life out of his cock. he’s practically going insane at the sensation.

self-resistance flies out the window as miguel quickly turns you both over. you lie down on the seat and he hovers above you as miguel continues thrusting into you. your hands grip onto his back, nails leaving scratch marks and crescent indents, eliciting a groan from the man above you. miguel doesn’t give a shit. in fact, he loves the idea of seeing your scratch marks when looking at his reflection. it’s a reminder of you and your love for him.

due to his rough thrusts, the truck shakes. luckily, the area is secluded. miguel groans when your fluttering walls clench around his thick length.

“shit— you clenching like that is driving me insane, bebita.” miguel moans.

you can’t even response since you’re a babbling mess underneath him. the bulbous tip of his cock repeatedly hits your cervix, making you arch your back off the seat like waves.

miguel can’t help but smirk at your trembling form. brows scrunched up and mouth letting out the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard. a literal angel underneath him. one hand reaches down in between your bodies and flickers your puffy clit. you let out a squeal at the sudden sensation, arching your back off the seat for the millionth time.

“let go, mi vida. i got you.” he coos in your ear.

with a few more flicks to your clit, you come with a loud cry of his name. coating his condom covered cock with your sweetness. oh that sight is forever imbedded in his mind. how beautifully you sang out his name as you each the pinnacle of ecstasy.

miguel soon followed suit. his hips stutter before letting out a groan as he releases thick hot ropes of cum into the condom. secretly wishing it was your pussy but protection comes first. his thrusts slow down, riding out both your highs before stopping. he buries his face beside yours, panting against your ear as you both recover from your highs.

after a few minutes of recovery, miguel lifts up onto his elbows and looks down at you. “you okay? did i hurt you?” he voice his concerns, gently moving away strings of hair sticked to your forehead.

“no.” you shake your head. “i’m okay.”

he softly smiles at your answer. worries washed away. leaning closer, miguel captures your lips in soft, gentle kiss. “té quiero.”

“té quiero.” you softly smile at him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

your parents decide to head to town again to buy some stuff. carlos left to meet up with some chick he met at a bailé the other night. that means you’re left alone, which also means miguel comes over.

you both makeout on your bed. hands roaming each other’s bodies. a soft sigh escapes your lips as you feel his lips pepper your neck with kisses, playing with his hair. that’s going to be the hundredth hickey he has left on you. the amount of concealer you applied on the dark mark so your family doesn’t notice says a lot. neck, breasts, inner thighs. marking you endlessly and making you feel like a dalmatian.

“que linda eres.” miguel mumbled against your soft skin, lips peppering adoring kisses.

a gasp leaves your lips as you feel large hands squeezing your breasts. “miguel~ my parents will be back soon.” you whine then followed by a giggle, tugging on his curls to gain his attention.

“the marketplace is packed. they’ll be gone for a while so we have time.” he kisses your worries away.

you softly sigh as miguel travels down to your breasts and makes out with them. calloused hands kneading them through your dress.

“my favorite pillows.” miguel mumbled between kisses and licks on the soft mounds. his fingers spread the opening of the top of your dress to gain more access to your cleavage.

“you act like they don’t hurt because of your big ass head.” you deadpan, still playing with his hair.

“well, that’s why i massage them.”

you can’t see him from this angle but you know he has the biggest smirk on his face. the thought makes you lightly slap his head, earning a chuckle from him.

those adoring kisses trail down to your tummy then back up your body towards your face before your lips collide once again. as his hand slwoly trails down towards your inner thigh, scrunching up the hem of your dress, the sound of the door opening cause you both to jump in surprised. miguel hurriedly lifts off from the bed. your eyes land at the opened door to find your parents with shocked expressions. your father face is red of anger, profoundly pissed off.

“te mato.” he glares towards miguel. fists fidgeting at his sides but never makes a move.

“papá, pro favor—“

“no me hablas.” he points a finger at you, sending the same glare then looks back at miguel. “i trusted you with this ranch. with this home and you betrayed that with taking an advantage con mi hija.”

“papá, no! please—“

“señor, i’ve never took advantage of your daughter or your trust. i respect and love your daughter with everything.” miguel defends himself.

you watch your father’s eyes narrow at miguel’s words. “you don’t truly love my daughter if you allow other women to chase after you.”

both yours and miguel’s heart drop at that accusation. anxiety invades your body. you whip your head at miguel with a shocking expression. he meets your gaze with the same expression but also a look of hurt. your heart breaks at the sight. you know it isn’t true but your heart says otherwise.

miguel looks at you with remorseful eyes then looks back at your father. “pro favor, señor. none of those rumors are true. i walk away from those women, they never leave me alone. the only woman i want is your daughter.” he states sincerely.

a pregnant pause fills the room. the tension lingers in the air. you watch as your father exhales heavily then takes a step towards miguel.

“you’re banned from this house and ranch.” he states through gritted teeth. “and you’re banned from speaking to my daughter. if i ever catch you near her, té mato. entiendes?”

miguel briefly looks down with a frown. shoulders slumped in defeat and frustration. much to your and his dismay, he agrees with a nod. your heart breaks, tears swelling in your eyes. grabbing his hat from the bed, miguel shoots a brief sad glance at you before exiting your bedroom, walking past your parents.

“y tú…” your father turns to you. “you don’t leave this house.” and with that, he walks away.

you collapse on the floor and break down into tears. the wall broke and the waterfall fell. your mother swiftly comes to your aid and pulls you into a tight, comforting embrace. you weep into her shoulder as you cry out your broken heart.

two hearts broke that day.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

she knew something happened.

the minute her eldest stepped foot into the house and stomped his way upstairs to his room without greeting her meant something was wrong. conchata knows her children well like most mothers do. she has her assumptions but rather know the truth.

with a sigh, she placed down the knife and heads upstairs to consult with her eldest son. she leaves a subtle knock on the door.

“mijo? estas bien?” she knew he wasn’t but she hopes he’ll allow her entry.

no answer.

she frowns but her concern increases. “mijo, if there’s something wrong, you can tell me.”

footsteps past by behind her. turning around, she sees her youngest walking by.

“do you know what’s wrong con tú hermano?”

he shakes his head. “no, he walked passed me at the ranch without saying anything.”

she frowns once again as gabriel heads towards the bathroom. glancing back at the door, she lets out another sad sigh before walking away.

later that evening, miguel finally makes his appearance. as she prepares the table with food, conchata noticed her son walking in.

“mijo, qué paso? did something happen?”

he remains silent but helps her with preparing the table. his face lacks of emotion, or at least lacks of his normal content self. mouth flat and tired eyes.

“miguel, por favor, dijeme.” the woman pleads. “is this about her?”

now he finally speaks.

“i’m banned from their ranch.”

conchata’s heart stops for a moment. “banned? como?” she sounds in disbelief but also concern.

his head hangs low, refusing to meet her gaze. “su papá doesn’t approve of me.”

now she feels heart drop. “doesn’t approve you? como que he doesn’t approve my son? you’ve worked so hard helping him at his ranch. he has lost his damn mind ese pinche cabrón.”

“he doesn’t approve me para su hija!”

now conchata is speechless but still in disbelief. “pero… you like each other…”

“pues el no le gusta porque he thinks i flirt with lots of women and believes i took an advantage of his daughter. believes i don’t love her.”

fury boils in her blood for your father to say such vile things about her son. but also heartbroken to see miguel so upset. she’s aware of his unpleasant encounters with idiot women so throw themselves at him, making him feel uncomfortable. it makes her want to give putasos con la chancla for bothering her son. she also feels for you too. understanding the dealing with heartbreak. of course someone gets in the way of true love. always a misunderstanding.

“ese cabrón knows nothing of my son.” she states firmly. “i know my own son and he’s nothing like those pinches mentiras. you’re a good man and have a good heart. i know you love her and she loves you. as much as i want to go beat that man con la chancla,” that elicits a chuckle from miguel. “i don’t want bloodshed between families because they’re good people and have been kind to us.”

the tension eases a bit on his shoulders. pleased to hear his mother’s supportive words.

“i know heartbreak isn’t easy, mijo… pero she’s a smart girl and she, and su mamá, will talk some sense into that man. it may take some time but don’t give up hope, her.” she gently takes his hands in hers.

the corners of his lips curl up into a soft smile. “yo sé, gracias mamá.” he pulls her into an embrace.

“siempre, mijo.” she hugs him back.

miguel wasn’t giving up on you. no, never. all he wants in his life is you. he’s willing to do whatever it takes to show his love for you. hoping it’ll change your father’s mind about your relationship.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

you don’t even know what day it is. you’ve been cooped up in your room since you’re not allow to leave the house. each day has been filled with tears and anger. tears stains on your pillows are proof of the heartbreak. your mom had to change them twice because of your mascara stains on them. anger boiling in your veins. pissed off at your father’s insane behavior about this shitshow. your mom and carlos have been comforting you. your mom soothing your broken heart with hugs and forehead kisses. carlos also gives hugs and tells his stupid ass jokes.

your father hasn’t spared a glance at you since the argument, as if you don’t exist. it hurts since you’ve always been his little girl. it hurts he disrespected miguel with those hurtful lies. it hurts he stripped your experience of love away from you.

besides moping and crying, the only things keeping you occupied is watching tv, scroll on your phone, draw or paint, listen to music, and sleep. your dad really meant not leaving the house because you can’t even visit the stables to greet the horses. your only source of happiness during this period of misery and imprisonment is lola. she’ll join you on the bed when you take naps. play with her, tossing toys at her.

it’s just been so fucking miserable.

the only chance you’ll get to see miguel is whenever he’s outside. you sit by your window and observe him working on his family ranch. you know he knows you’re watching him. god you miss him so fucking much. his kisses, his hugs, his voice, his hands.

you can’t text or call him since your dad deleted his contact off your phone when you left your phone in room behind when you visited the kitchen one day. at least he didn’t delete gabriel’s so you had some type of method to keep in contact with miguel. you’ll text gabriel, asking how his brother is doing. upset and frustrated were what you were expecting.

the love of your life stripped away from your heart by the hands of your father. how fucking sad that is.

you want to make him understand but the man is stubborn as hell and believes his opinion is the only relevant opinion. you understand your mom’s frustration with your dad after years of marriage.

you need to make him understand.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

your growling tummy sends you downstairs to retrieve a snack. heading for the kitchen, you see your parents talking. your mom preparing for tonight’s dinner while your dad drinks a glass of water. he must’ve returned from the ranch.

a wave of determination courses through your veins. you’re fed up with this nonsense and imprisonment. he has to respect your wishes and life. although you’re his youngest and only daughter, you’re a grown woman. you have your own goals, wishes, desires for your life. he can’t strip that away from you. this is your life and he needs to understand.

“papá.” you stand near the kitchen island.

the man turns around and sees you. a frown settles on his face. “¿qué quieres?”

your fists tightened. “this needs to stop.”

his frown deepens. “ya te dije que no.”

“this is ridiculous!” you exclaim with your hands in the air. “you can’t ground me for falling in love! especially with someone who’s a good person!”

“he is not a good person.” he sets the now empty glass of water down on the counter with a bit of aggressiveness. luckily it didn’t break. “ese huevón flirts with a bunch of women behind your back. you can’t love someone if they lie to you.”

“he doesn’t flirt with them, papá! those women flirt with him!” you cry, making him go silent. “they throw themselves at him and it makes him uncomfortable. women twice his age! he tries to be polite and tell them he’s not interested. he already told me about this.” a thin layer of tears forms up in your eyes. “he said he’ll never betray me, never break my heart because he loves me, papí.”

your father only remained speechless. your mother too, who stopped cooking since you spoke.

“being with miguel, i’ve never been so happy. he makes me so happy.” you smile sadly. “yours and mom’s relationship is what i’ve been seeking for. being together for many years, spending the rest of your lives together. i found that with miguel. he’s the one i want to spend the rest of my life with.”

a sorrowful look in his eyes. your mom is on the verge of tears, happy tears of course. she couldn’t be more proud of you, defending yourself and miguel.

“please don’t take that away from me.”

the crack in your voice makes him wince. the anger now vanished, replaced with sorrow and regret. seeing his little girl on the verge of tears breaks his heart into a million pieces like any other parent.

“i… lo siento, mi cielo.” he covers his mouth with a hand. sighing as regret plagues his body. “i’m so sorry… i didn’t mean…” the next few words died when he feels you arms around his body, embracing him.

“yo sé, papí. yo sé.” you whisper.

he accepts your embrace, not wasting a second. “i was just protecting you from heartbreak. i couldn’t bare to you see like that.”

“i know.” you sniffed, smiling a little.

“but i was wrong about him… ay dios, all those things i said. now what you told me…”

“he’ll forgive you.” you pull away, softly smiling. “miguel knows you were protecting me.”

he nods sadly. “still, i need to apologize to him. lo siento mucho, mija.”

“it’s okay, papí. thank you.” you hug him one last time before your mothers joins you both.

it was going to be okay.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

your father apologized to miguel. he immediately accepted because he understood your father’s reasons. the apology concluded with a hand shake before your dad pulls miguel into an embrace. everyone was pleased the shitshow was over. conchata also accepted your father’s apology. no bloodshed was made. just two happy families.

the words “son-in-law” accidentally slipped through your dad’s lips and it made you and miguel flustered a little. it was pleasing to know your dad was envisioning a future of the family including miguel.

afterwards, you and miguel finally pursue this relationship without fear. opened to the world.

riding in his truck, you drive to the beach. windows down and the hot summer breeze flowing through your hair. parked in the same secluded spot from previous times, you and miguel share a little intimate moment. lips connected in a passionate kiss.

with one final kiss, miguel sucking your bottom lip, he slowly pulls away to admire you. eyes filled with adoration, simply and only for you.

“té quiero tanto, mi alma.”

you softly smile. “té quiero tanto, mi vaquero.”

little did you know five years later you and miguel would have a ranch and family of your own. a daughter who’s an exact replica of her father. like your parents, you and miguel spend the rest of your lives together. like true soulmates.

◟ ࣪⠀ׅ ♱⠀𝓝ote. this is probably one of best fics i’ve written imo. holy shit the creative flow was flowing with this, lowkey proud of it. this is most definitely one of my favorites.

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[saphic-with-t]

Listen, on any other occasion I would never tell tumblr users to go to Twitter but right now art twitter is popping tf off due to two entirely unrelated trends.

On one side, someone drew the beloved Hatsune Miku but she’s Brazilian. It exploded in popularity and a bunch of other artists also drew Brazilian Miku. Then Argentinians saw it and made Argentinian Miku in response (apparently Argentinians and Brazilians have a mutual respect/love for the others?) Then a bunch of artists loved that and now artists from all over the world are all drawing Hatsune Miku but from their countries and ethnic backgrounds, implementing lovely bits of culture and fashion. Desi Mikus, Latina Mikus, east and Western European Mikus, 50 states of Miku, multi-cultural Miku as far as the eye can see!!!

On a completely different side, Japanese women and Korean women were warning each other about how awful the men in their own countries are. Someone commented on how at this point the only choice left was for Japanese and Korean women to date each other. This lead to a bunch of Japanese women reminiscing about lovely and charming Korean women they met abroad and Korean women reminiscing about cute and polite Japanese women they met abroad (or who were traveling abroad? From what I’ve seen it’s usually Japanese girls traveling to Korea.)

Of course that spiraled into a bunch of artists drawing art of Korean girl x Japanese girl yuri. Chinese women also started to get involved so of course people started drawing all three. Now it’s spread like wild fire and almost all of South Asia is drawing yuri of themselves with whichever other south Asian country they want/love, all in solidarity of how awful all of their men are.

The melting pot of cultures is hot and fresh, a beautiful and inspiring moment in the history of the internet…

[zepskies]

Show Me - Part 2

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader || Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy (background)

Summary: Dean meets your infamous ex-boyfriend at a fallen hunter’s funeral. You just forgot to mention that he’s a hunter as well. Maybe because he still has the power to get under your skin…in the worst of ways.

AN: I know I said I'd release this on Wednesday, but I thought I'd get this out a bit early. Here’s Part 2! **Read Part 1 here.

Word Count: 5,300

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, angst, body insecurity, hurt/comfort, body appreciation.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: “A Thorough Reminder”

It’s a few hours’ drive back to Lebanon.

Dean stops at one of your favorite restaurant chains for takeout, though he notices how you only eat about half of what you ordered. Even he managed to eat all of his bacon cheeseburger, and that was after an entire afternoon of snacking and day drinking.

“Thought you were hungry,” he says.

You shrug as you package up the rest of your dinner and lean back in the passenger seat.

“I don’t know. Guess I don’t have much of an appetite today.”

You’re normally a stress eater, by trade. But today, a familiar anxiety has crept in, taking root in your chest, and creating a mental block between your throat, your brain, and your stomach.

Despite what some people might like to believe, Dean does notice the small things, when it matters.

He glances at you, catches the way you rub at your tired face and release a small sigh.

“You okay?” he can’t help but ask.

You nod absently. “I’m fine, Dean.”

His lips press together. That doesn’t sound like fine. It sounds a lot like Winchester fine.

“I didn’t know he was a hunter,” he remarks.

You both know who he’s referring to. You look over at him, resigned, and a little annoyed.

Dean’s palms lift halfway off the steering wheel as he shrugs.

“You made it seem like he was a normal Joe,” he says. “Some dude you met in Miami.”

“We did meet in Miami,” you confirm. Part of you falters with another sigh. You don’t want to talk about this, but you suppose you might as well get it over with. Dean deserves an explanation.

“Okay, here it is,” you begin. “Carter came into town on a job. I caught wind of it not long after he did, and when we eventually ran into each other, we agreed to work the case…”

And you and Carter were good together, at least on the hunt. There had been a certain rugged charm and confidence to him that had drawn you in (apparently, you had a type). When he’d asked to stay with you for a few days, you hadn’t been able to say no.

“I thought it was because…he wanted to see more of me,” you explain. Your expression turns dry. “Maybe that was part of it, but mainly, he was broke. He literally couldn’t leave. Not until he scored some cash.”

Dean doesn’t want to think about how that guy charmed you, luring you in with what he thought you might want to hear. Though he processes all this with a nod. You’ve filled in most of the gaps, and he thinks he knows where this part of the story leads to: the one thing you did tell him about your ex.

“So you helped him get a job,” Dean supplies. His wry gaze meets yours. “At the local strip joint.”

“As a bouncer,” you specify. “He wasn’t qualified for much else. As it was, he needed me to talk to the manager for him. It was a Miami club run by Latinos. They weren’t going to hire a random white guy off the street who didn’t even speak Spanish.”

“Not until you finessed them,” Dean smirks.

You flash him a small smile. “I’m good with people.” 

You hadn’t realized it at the time, under the haze of a hunters’ romance, but everything with Carter had been at his convenience, and whatever he needed from you. A hunting partner. A bit of money (a loan, he’d claimed). Some good food and a place to stay, free of charge. Not to mention a warm bed.

The giver in you had been all too ready to oblige.

“And when he got enough money to hit the road, he asked me to go with him,” you continue. “My grandma was still alive at the time. I had never left the city for more than a few days before, in case she needed me, but she told me to go. To live my life…so I did.”

You turn to Dean then. You suck in a breath as your eyes begin to sting.

“It’s my biggest regret,” you say. “She was gone by the end of the year.”

Dean sobers. His eyes soften, and he reaches across your thigh for your hand. You lace your fingers with his.

“I told you, she basically raised me,” you say. You brush away a tear from your cheek, sniffling. “…I should’ve been there.”

Dean raises your hand to his lips. “That’s not on you.”

You shake your head instead of answering. You’d been on a hunt with Carter when you got the call from your grandma’s neighbor. For almost a year, you’d lost what you hadn’t realized was precious time.

Meanwhile, you’d become what you’d thought was a partner, both on the Job and in life. Turns out, you’d been more like a sidekick, allowing Carter to tell you where, when, and how. It took your grandmother’s death to snap you out of the trance. 

So you went home, picked up the pieces of your life…and you started again, somehow.

“A few months later,” you say, squeezing Dean’s hand. “I met you in a dirty bar in Las Cruces.”

He shoots you a more amused look.

“You mean you tried to hustle me,” he says.

Your lips curve into a grin. “Oh, please. You knew what you were getting into.”

Dean chuckles at that, tossing his head back against his headrest.

“Well, not exactly,” he says. Your hand is still tucked in his, and his thumb draws back and forth across your fingers.

He hadn’t known you were a hunter at first. He’d noticed your curves in those tight jeans and fitted top, your red lips, the shade of your hair, the perceptive gleam in your eyes—he’d liked it all.

Still, after he watched you hustle a guy out of all his money that night, just to give him $30 back so he could afford to get home…he’d known then that there was something special about you.

Then you’d slid into the seat next to him at the bar. Your English had been as smooth as your Spanish, and he’d been all too willing to get hooked into a game of pool with you.

He hadn’t known then that he was staring into the face of his future. 

“I knew I wanted you in my bed that night,” Dean says. His easy smile is flirtatious, but his eyes are honest, finding yours. “I just didn’t count on you being even more badass than I took you for.”

Your cheeks warm as you fight a deeper smile, shaking your head.

You lean over as far as you can with your seatbelt on and press a kiss to his cheek. You linger there, with your hand reaching out to caress his face. You don’t want his eyes to leave the road, but you want him to know what he means to you right now. 

After you pull away, he gives you one of those grins, and his eyes are dancing. It makes him both a giant dork, and incredibly charming all at once.

Not for the first time, you’re grateful to know this man—let alone be with him.

And yet, Dean knows.

Something’s not quite right with you.

He feels it in his gut when you two get back to the bunker that night. You shower quickly and alone, and you took a change of clothes into the bathroom with you, like he’s never seen you naked before.

By the time Dean finishes his own shower and gets dressed, you’re getting ready for bed as you putter about the room. He eyes your long pants and sweatshirt.

“You cold?” he asks, while digging in his dresser for a clean pair of sweatpants.

You spare him a glance, but you don’t fully turn to him while you go through your skincare routine with your hair clipped up.

“No, I’m good,” you reply.

“So why the long johns,” he quips, gesturing at your pants. He can’t remember the last time you wore anything but a shirt and underwear to bed (or less). He catches the look on your face in the dresser mirror: a slight pause, a press of your lips, but your face is otherwise guarded.

“I guess I am a little cold,” you say. You head to the bathroom again to finish the rest of your nightly routine, but you don’t see the way Dean’s frown follows you.

He later waits for you in bed. He pauses in his iPad scrolling when you slip in beside him under the covers. You've let your hair back down, nice and wild the way he likes it.

You heave a sigh. “Good night.”

“Hold up,” Dean says. With a hand on your shoulder, he stops you from facing away from him. He leans in and caresses your cheek with his thumb. You give him a small smile.

And he gives you a slow, purposeful kiss. He pulls away, just enough to see your eyes, beautiful and warm. He leans in again and angles into a new kiss, one that deepens with a spark of heat. He props himself up with a forearm above your head, digging into your pillows.

His thigh slots between your legs. For a reason you don’t want to name, you fight the instinct to press your center against him. His hand on your cheek slides down your neck, down the front of your close-necked shirt, between your breasts. He finds purchase on your hip and squeezes soft, tender flesh.

That’s when you stop him with a gentle push on his chest.

You slowly break from his kiss and lick your lips. Your eyes are apologetic.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m just…I’m tired,” you say.

Dean nods and lets out a sigh through his nose. He shifts more fully onto his side, lifting his weight off of you, and brushes your hair back from your face.

“You sure you don’t have anything you wanna talk about?” he asks.

You raise a brow at him. “Like what?”

“Like how you’re letting that asshole get back into your head,” Dean replies.

His gaze feels heavy on you, and you pause, staring back at him in soft shock.

“I’m not—”

“Look, I know you. And whatever this is, it’s more than what we talked about in the car,” he says, with a firm, yet gentle gaze. “If there’s something else you need to get out, you can tell me.”

Dean has worked hard to help you through the mental roadblocks you’ve had in the past—about you being comfortable with yourself, and with him. He’s not going to let some dipshit like Carter undo all of that, unraveling you with a single thread.

But your mouth works as you start to get annoyed, and even a bit angry at his accusation.

“Just because I don’t want to have sex, doesn’t mean I’ve got a problem, okay Dean? I just want to sleep,” you say tersely.

Dean’s jaw clenches at your tone. His head quirks, and he nods.

“Fine,” he says. “We’ll sleep.”

He turns around and shut off his beside lamp, casting the room in darkness. You huff and turn onto your side, away from him.

You cover yourself with the blankets up to your shoulders, but the longer you lay there in silence, the more that guilt prickles in your chest, along with the tightness of anxiety that welled up when he started to touch you.

Fuck, what’s wrong with me? you think, trying to work through the emotion clogging in your throat. You haven’t felt like this in years…

Slowly you turn back towards Dean. By now your eyes have adjusted enough to see the outline of his broad back in his gray shirt. You steel yourself with another shaky breath, and you scoot forward across the bed. Your curled hands rest against the middle of his back, where you also press your forehead. You feel his body tense up a little.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper in the dark.

After a beat, you hear him sigh. Dean reaches out to turn the lamp back on, filling the room once again with soft light. He turns and finds you haven’t moved, though you stare up at him with shining eyes.

His own soften. He takes one of your hands and presses the back of it to his lips.

“Talk to me,” he says, and he waits for you to gain your courage.

After another couple of steadying breaths, you begin.

“There’s too many things I didn’t realize at the time,” you say. “He didn’t force me to go with him, to stay with him. Even when I felt like shit inside, I thought he was right about me. About how I looked, and…and what I was good for, I guess. I thought he needed me, and that made everything else okay.”

You sniffle, and a tear rolls down your cheek. Dean’s hold on you tightens a fraction. He’s listening intently, but in his silence, there’s anger. He wishes he really had broken that guy’s hand. Or at least his goddamn mouth.

“I mean, what the hell was I thinking?” you ask, laughing a bit through your tears. “I always thought I was stronger than that, you know? I just realize now that…I must not have liked myself very much.”

Dean lets go of your hand, just to dry your face. He’s no stranger to looking in the mirror and not liking the man staring back at him, but he doesn’t think that’s your problem. 

He caresses your cheek, shakes his head, and he offers a rueful smile.

“Nah. You just have a habit of fallin’ for poor sons of bitches who don’t deserve you,” he says.

You read between his self-deprecating lines there, raising your brows at him.

“Hey. That might be true, but you better not be lumping my boyfriend in with the rest of them,” you say firmly. Your arms slip around his waist, and you press yourself in close.

Dean chuckles and welcomes you into his arms as well. His hand tangles in your hair, and his lips find your neck with a deep inhale.

He knows what kinds of thoughts are likely plaguing your mind, just like he knows that whatever he says will only go so far. He presses a kiss to your neck that grazes with teeth. You let out a little hum of surprise. He smiles and begins to move down, letting his lips brush across your skin.

“I’ll just speak for myself then,” he says. His hand trails lower and brushes the side of your breast. “If you need me to remind you how beautiful you are, how goddamn sexy…then I got no problem showing you.”

His hand moves down the soft slopes of your body and comes to rest at the curve of your waist. Hearing your faltering breath, Dean pulls back so he can see your face.  

“Let me take care of you for a change,” he says. His lips pull at a grin, and it makes you smile in turn.

You take his face in your hands and bring him down to you for a kiss, languid and a bit devouring. It makes heat lick up Dean’s spine.

“Okay,” you whisper, close to his lips. “Show me.”

His grin deepens, teeth shining. “Yes, ma’am.”

This man is nothing if not endearing, and it earns a giggle from you as he moves down your body. First, you help him with getting your sweatshirt up and over your head; the collar is close to your neck and he doesn’t want to choke you (yet).

His gaze focuses on the rise and fall of your chest, the familiar sight of your full breasts, waiting for him to touch and tease.

Before he can start to follow through with his mental plans, you sit up with him and your hands dive under his shirt, both to start inching it up, and to feel him. His stomach clenches under the soft graze of your nails, but he gently pushes you back down onto the bed.

“What’d I just tell you?” he chides.

You give him an incredulous smile. “What, I’m not allowed to touch you?”

Dean reaches up to pull his shirt off from behind his neck. It’s a smooth move, and your eyes roam over his chest, and lower still.

He smirks. “Just be a good girl and wait your turn.”

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh. You let him finish undressing you by peeling off the sweatpants. You were getting hot in those anyway.

He leaves your panties on for now, but he travels back up to slot himself between your open legs. With a forearm braced above you, he starts again from the top.

He caresses your cheek, and begins with a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

You sigh at the attention, tilting your head to make room for him. The sound of your voice is just one thing that he loves (and you know it), but Dean also loves the smoothness of your tan skin. He doesn’t mind a few faded stretch marks here and there, the lower he gets. He’s got a few scars and worry lines himself.

What matters to him is the sounds he’s able to pull from you as he nips and licks down between your breasts. He massages and teases one with his hand, while his tongue lavishes attention on the other. He earns a breathy sigh, a moan when his lips find the hardening buds, your knees starting to bend and squeeze his waist. He already feels the dampness of your clothed core brushing his thigh.

“Already squeezing on me, huh? I’ve barely touched you,” Dean teases. He nips at a plush spot on your left side, below your breast—something you might’ve been insecure about, if his thumb wasn’t also still distracting you by swirling over a nipple. His hands are sinfully good (something you love).

You utter a small moan and grasp his wrist just for something to hold onto as his mouth continues worshipping every curve of your body. Even the parts you’d usually rather him steer away from.

Dean senses your tension, however, when his teeth graze your soft stomach. He glances up at you, finding a bit of insecurity in your eyes.  

“Here’s the thing,” he says, and his lips move against your skin. “You act like I haven’t already seen and conquered every square inch of you. Like I haven’t torn you apart, time after time.”

He sits back up, and his hands squeeze your hips and thighs and ass. He moves up to look down on you with almost predatory focus. Like he’s trying to determine what part of you he wants to devour next.

It’s a look you’ve seen before, though it still makes your face warm and your pussy clench on nothing. Your mouth parts with an unsteady laugh. 

“You’ve got a point,” you nod. Dean shoots you a smirk, but he still takes your hand from where it’s been tangled in the sheets. He presses a kiss into your palm.

“You don’t gotta hide from anybody,” he says. “For damn sure, you ain’t hiding from me. You're too damn beautiful for that.”

You smile up at him, softer now as you thread your fingers with his.

He soon lets you go though. Because his hand moves down and down, to brush his fingers along your clothed core. You breathe deeper in anticipation, but his grin tells you that he’s not going to make this quick.

“Dean,” you implore him.

“Yeah, baby,” he answers. The pads of his fingers stroke and press into you. You lean into his touch, wanting and craving more. But he doesn’t give it to you just get.

He keeps teasing you, brushing your clit through the soaked fabric of your panties. It’s sort of what you want, and yet nowhere near enough. You can taste the edge of pleasure, just starting to make you squirm against his hand.

“You’re killing me here,” you whine.

“I’m ‘a need you to be patient,” he says. 

You laugh, both incredulous and frustrated. His grin is damn near insufferable now.

Dean’s fingers move your panties aside, but they do no more than brush against the wet seam of your pussy. You hum and try to press into his hand. He doesn’t heed your unspoken demand.

He thinks you’re sexy as hell like this, writhing and waiting for his touch. He just wants to savor that for a bit longer—that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. He’s the only one who gets to tease you, to be with you, to love you. 

You’re getting impatient though. With a ragged sigh, you sit up and hook a hand behind his neck and pull him down into your kiss. He chuckles against your lips when he feels your hand sliding from his chest to the generous bulge in his sweatpants. You stroke up and down the full length of him with a practiced hand.

“I get it, baby. I do,” you pant, “but I need you.”

He falters for a moment, grunting when your hand slips into the front of his pants and boxer briefs and takes his cock firmly in hand. Your touch is soft and warm and you know how to elicit a shiver running down his spine.

Dean has a plan though, and he forces himself to focus through gritted teeth. He takes your wrist, carefully guides it out of his pants, and pins it beside your head, using his strength against you. It’s as frustrating as it is hot, making your skin flush as you stare up at him. 

“We’re not there yet,” he tells you. Amusement gleams in his eyes. “But I like the enthusiasm.”

Without warning, he pulls away from you. He sits up on his knees and grabs the nearest pillow. He grasps your thighs and raises you up enough to slide the pillow underneath your ass, which he bares after snatching off your panties. You yelp and the suddenness of your underwear sliding off your legs. He tosses them elsewhere.

“What, now you’re speeding things up?” you remark.

Dean raises his brows at you. “What gave you that idea?”

He shifts down the bed and sinks down between your thighs. You lean up just on your elbows so you can try to figure out what he’s about to do (though you have a pretty good guess). For a delicious moment, you feel his warm breath against your pussy. You clench in anticipation…

Until he veers further down the inside of your thigh. His hand moves smoothly underneath one of your thick thighs and hooks it over his shoulder. He starts with wet kisses from the inside of your knee, steadily moving up your thigh. Your eyes close as your breathing shallows.

You force yourself to take deeper breaths as the gentle feeling of his lips, and a hint of teeth, continues to make your body tingle with pleasure. You feel warmth and wetness pooling between your legs. Your core is already throbbing with need.

Just as Dean draws near to the apex of your thighs…he changes course, starting the same path of kisses up your other leg. You blow out a shaky sigh and have to clench your hands into the sheets. His name falls from your lips, both a reverent sigh and a plea.

You know what he’s doing. He’s worshipping your body in the sweetest of ways. You knew he was going to take his time with you, working you up, but this is both heaven and hell.

“Would you relax?” he says, chuckling into your skin.

You release a breathy giggle. “Yeah, right. I love and hate you right now.”

Dean’s shoulders shake with near silent laughter. His free hand soothes up and down the thigh he holds propped up on his shoulder.

“As long as it’s more of the first one, we’re good,” he teases.   

You groan, but eventually you relax against the bed. You realize now that you’re more comfortable, more focused more on the pleasurable sensations he’s giving you than on how exposed you are right now. You smile begrudgingly, as you realize that’s probably what Dean wanted all along. 

Just when your body is starting to settle into this, you gasp when you feel his tongue finally lick a warm stripe up the seam of your pussy.

Your head raises, and you see your man’s mischievous green eyes and the edge of his smile between your legs. Your mouth opens to say something petulant, but you cry out when his fingers slip past your wet folds and find your clit.

He knows where you’re most sensitive, what’s going to have you even more slippery and pulsing with need. His tongue replaces his hand, licking and sucking at your clit, while his fingers slip into your tight entrance and fuck into you slowly.

“God, Dean,” you breathe. Your nails dig back into the mattress.

You feel his voice reverberate inside you when he says, “Relax…”

He's already hooked your thighs over his shoulders. The pillow under your raised hips just gives him even more leverage to work you over. His mouth is noisy and makes you blush down to your neck, but you can’t help fisting a hand into his hair and clenching tight as he brings you right to the edge…

And he tumbles you over. His fingers brush deliberately and firmly against that sensitive spot deep inside you, until your inner walls quiver and your legs shake around his head.

Then you’re coming all over his hand. Your whimpers turn into a moan of release as warmth travels from your center, throughout the rest of your body. His tongue doesn’t stop, and your skin tingles, causing a shiver to run up your spine and arch your back as you moan. 

He doesn’t pull away until your clit becomes oversensitive, and you start to squirm away from his hold. When he finally gives you reprieve, your body sags on the bed and your head rolls to the side as you try to catch your breath.

Dean’s panting hard too by the time he’s done. He has to wipe his mouth, nose, and hand, but he still strokes your thighs after he guides your legs off his shoulders and back to the bed.

Since you’re incapable of speech at the moment, you tug more gently on his hair to get his attention. He greets you with a grin as he takes in how wrecked you are.

You smile back and beckon him with a curling finger. “Come ‘ere.”

Dean obliges you, moving up your body to prop himself up on a forearm, next to your head. You grab his chin and bring him down to you for a searing kiss. You shudder a little, as you can taste yourself on his tongue. The press of his fingers along the small of your back brings more tingles across your skin.

You feel him hard and heavy against your thigh. You let your hands run down his back as well. Down the slope of his spine, and under the waistband of his sweatpants.

“I need you,” you whisper, in the small space between your faces.

“Yeah?” he pants, though his tone is teasing. “Where?”

“Inside me,” you reply. Your thighs squeeze his hips, pressing his length against your center and earning a groan out of him. “Fuck me ‘til it hurts.”

Dean’s grip on your hip tightens. He drops a biting kiss to your throat and nods. He quickly gets the rest of his clothes off, then he directs you to move onto your side. You’re a bit confused at first, but you oblige him. He kneels between your thighs, straddling the bottom one, then hooking your top leg over his.

He pushes his cock into you slowly, making you both breathe harder as he stretches you and finds his way home.

This angle is different, but it’s good. You feel him bottom out deep and snug inside. Already your inner walls respond to the feeling of him, and you tighten on reflex.

Dean makes a sound of pleasure and presses his forehead against your shoulder for a moment. 

“What’s this, like doggy style?” you ask.

“Kind of,” he says, giving you a grin. “This way, I can still see your pretty face.”

You can’t help a giddy burst of laughter, even though your face warms. Yes, he still manages to make you blush when he talks like that.

Dean smirks in amusement. Once again, he swipes a thumb across your cheek and presses a kiss to your lips. You hold him there and lick into his mouth. When he starts to move, rocking out, then back inside of you with ease, you shudder at the feeling of him. Your thigh curls tighter around his hip, and he squeezes your soft flesh there.

“I happen to like a little give,” he says, with a lusty gleam in his eyes. “You know why?”

You’re already panting for breath. His slow strokes make you feel every inch of him, but you lick your lips and meet his hot gaze. You start to smile as you humor him.

“Why?” you ask.

“Call it a ‘soft landing,’” he grins. “Makes it feel that much better when I fuck you good and deep.”

Your mouth falls open, this time more in shock as you blush further and shiver in arousal—not only at his words, but the sound of his voice, and his sincerity. You unintentionally clench on his cock, and he groans. He gives your ass a heavy smack. You jolt with a gasp.

“Keep that up,” his voice deepens, rough with pleasure. “’Bout to fuckin’ wreck you.”

All you can do is nod and hold on tight for the damn ride.

He builds up the pace, until he needs a hand on the headboard for balance. The old mattress creaks to the tempo of his pounding strokes, and he’s hitting your G-spot with every single one of them. Your toes curl and you grab onto his thigh to help keep both of you steady.

You feel that coil starting to tighten, but you’re not quite there. You reach down between your bodies and massage your clit in time with his thrusts. Your eyes close on a gasp.

And the coil eventually snaps. Your inner walls spasm and flutter around him, making his hips stutter.   

“That’s it, baby. Let go for me,” he grits out. He chases his own release as well as yours. “So fucking sexy like this, coming apart for me.”

He's spurred on by the way your voice echoes in his ears. A few more hard thrusts, and he’s spilling into you. He fills you up with his warmth and makes a shiver run through your body.

You’re gripping his thigh so tightly you’re probably giving him bruises, but it’s not unlike the fingerprints you often find on your ass and hips (and probably will find tomorrow).

You finally twist onto your back and relax. Dean catches himself against the bed before he crushes you with his weight. You welcome him anyway, with your hand soothing up and down his back.

“You okay?” he asks. Somehow, his gruff voice is still soothing to you. 

You smile, giving a teasing squeeze on his arm. “Much better.”

He chuckles at that. His skin is dewy and sticks to yours, but you don’t mind. In turn, he brushes your now frizzy hair away from your face and neck, so it fans out on the pillow instead.

After he untangles from you and rolls onto the bed at your side, he lays there on his back and tries to regain his breath. You turn toward him and press a kiss into his shoulder.

“Thank you…for reminding me,” you say.

For making me feel beautiful, wanted, loved…

You try to blink past the sting of tears, but you know your eyes are shining.

“I love you,” you remind him.

Dean’s face warms and softens. He reaches over and takes your hand. Again, he presses it to his lips. 

I love you too, that gesture says. Then he smiles. 

“Any time you need a little show and tell, I’m here.”

AN: 😮‍💨 Well then! lol I hope you liked this! For me it was equal parts fun and cathartic, being a plus-size girl myself. 💗💗

I was definitely thinking of that scene in 9.13:

Mala: "What can I say? Sometimes it's nice to feel a little give."

Dean *has an epiphany*: "Oh. Yeah, I get that. A little extra cushion for the, uh..." *fist pounding motion* (lmfao)

🎙️ Again, if you want to listen to the whole story narrated in podfic form, check it out here!

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is "Get Stuffed":

Summary: Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.

▶️ Next Story: Get Stuffed

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[whatsaninterestingplacethisis]

Lovers

Imagine

Mat Barzal x Latina!reader

Synop: y/n locks eyes with a stranger one night and it leads to uncertain 'relationship' between the two; a one night stand leads to too many nights.

a/n: no smut but very suggestive, y/n is emotionaly unavaliable 😪, in a way i replace the smut with humor bc i think im funny 😔 angst + fluff, black cat reader x sunshine Matt in a sense ? Im indifferent w this work >:/

cw: mentions of drinking, cussing, suggestiveness

+

That stupid little red dress. The one you kept pulling down as it hiked up every step you took. That's what the oversized black leather jacket was for; to save the hassle but it didn't do much besides keeping you warm.

That same little red dress is on your bedroom floor, alongside with your black boots and his jeans with the belt still looped in them.

You locked eyes with him that same night in that crowded bar. You would never take him home but they way your makeup held that night and how the dress fitted you, it gave you confidence to do so.

It was difficult to fall asleep right after, the adrenaline had warm your body, too hot to sleep. But after some cooling down and examining his sharp facial features, you fell into a slumber.

+

With a well rested sleep, especially after that night, you woke up early. Fortunately so, you had plans with some friends late morning. You showered and thought of how to remove the man in your bed.

After getting dressed and putting your dress in the hamper, you picked up his discarded clothes from last night and messily folded them and chucked them at his bare back.

"Wakey wakey, no bakey." you sarcastically said in a loud enough voice to wake the nameless stranger. You were sure he had told you his name but had forgotten.

The nameless stranger stirred and moaned as he flipped over under the sheets. He rubbed his eyes trying to focus on your dressed self at the foot of the bed. You could see a smirk creep on his face as he realized what happened last night.

"Get dressed." you demand in a softer voice this time. You made your way to your side of the bed and started to make the bed, prompting him to actually move and get dressed.

"Jeez, no good morning or-" he finally sat up and started to put on his boxers,

"No. I have plans and can't have a stranger in my house." You walked around to start to make his side of your bed.

He stood up towering over you, "you did last night." he said with another smirk of his, his chest was bare and he messed with his belt buckle.

"Not alone in my house." you tilted up to look at him, moving him out of the way with your hips, folding the sheets back over.

You grabbed his shirt and pushed him with it towards the front door,

"I would like to see you again." he said as he quickly slid his shirt over his head,

You laughed, "I'm sure you would, bye bye." you closed and locked the door after him and continued to get ready.

+

The next weeknight you were relaxing after work, eating dinner on the couch watching some tv. As soon as you placed your bowl down, you heard soft knocks at your door.

You looked through the peephole and your eyes widened as you saw the same face of the guy who was in your sheets a few days ago.

You opened the door ajar, "What the hell are you doing here?" your eyebrows furrowed together.

"I wasn't joking when I said I wouldn't mind seeing you again." He stood with his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

"Maybe you don't understand the concept of a one night stand but it usually happens only one night."

He laughed at your explanation, "I know what we did. I'm just saying if you don't mind, we can hang out again."

"I don't want to be in a relationship or even date for that matter." you opened the door more as to where the conversation was going.

"Neither do I." he stated to your surprise.

"Are you implying to be fuck buddies?" you whispered the term as you two were having the conversation in a public hallway.

He struggled to hold back a laugh, "In a few words, yes."

"Okay." you relaxed against the door,

"Okay?" he questioned not understanding your answer,

"Yeah, sure." you agreed to the relation.

"Cool, we should share numbers then." he pulled out his phone and passed it to you. The new contact page had your name typed out in the right box.

"You remember my name?" you looked up at him after typing your number in.

"Yeah, what you don't remember mine?" he joked expecting a laugh but you still couldn't remember his name. He saw the slight worry in your eyes and smiled,

"It's Mat." you passed his phone back and he saved the contact,

"Sorry," you said sheepishly.

"No worries." he said as if he had been embarrassed too. But he kept standing there.

"Do you want to- tonight?" you asked indifferent of his intentions when coming over to your place.

"I mean I wasn't expecting it on my drive over here but I'm down..." he leaned forward onto the doorway.

With his face inches way from yours, you leaned forward, caressing his loose hair strands,

"I'm not. I'm on my period, so goodnight Mat." you pulled away from the tension and slightly pushed his chest away.

“Wait. We could still hang, watch a movie or something.” he tried to negotiate but failed,

"Yeah, no. Text me in a week and I should be free, goodnight." you quickly closed the door before he could speak anymore.

+

Mat had given you a full week to meet up again and it was awkward at first on your behalf. The first night with him after the bar really only happened with the help of alcohol but to plan accordingly sober was very different.

He called you, not texted, and gave you the option to see him at his place or yours. You told him yours to lessen the anxiety.

It was silly you thought. Panicking over sleeping with a guy who had already seen you naked. It was probably the fact that he wanted to see you again in that state that made you overthink so much.

But at the end of the night he came, he also came to your place.

And it became a system. He called to see you. You texted to see him. It went on for months of pure sex. Nothing else as you pledged the second time you saw him. But there were moments were he broke his pledge. Moments where he was becoming more of a friend than a fuck buddy.

I.

When he had time the mornings after he was generous to cook you breakfast,

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey" he mocked you from the first morning. He brought you a plate of a simple but nutritional breakfast and a glass of orange juice to his bed.

You groaned to be woken up but loved the smell of food in the morning, "Is this all for me?" you asked half asleep, reaching for the fork but he pulled the plate away,

"No, actually it's just for me. Your plate is in the kitchen." he deadpanned. Still half asleep you slowly blinked at what he said.

"I'm just kidding," he passed you the fork, "Just a joke because of your lack of hospitality from the first night." you noted he wasn't going to let that go for a while.

"I said I was sorry but that night was different from what we have now." you said before taking a bite of your food.

"I know. It's just fun teasing you." he said softly as he watched you eating his food.

This was from the first weeks. You had kept some walls up because from your standpoint it was all and only sex. But something about Mat forced you to open with him. With a smooth transition, the two of you became friends with benefits from fuck buddies.

II.

Mat found it easy to let your walls down by making you laugh but in other words he teased you, so he laughed at you but it all good and fun when you teased him back.

From the very beginning Mat favored talking over the phone rather than text. For your relationship, texting seemed easier and more practical because you didn't mind him just sending 'are you free?' and that be a sign that he wanted to come over. But no, for him he always wanted to have a long conversation about whatever and end the call with, "okay I'll be on my way soon."

And you always obliged, when you texted first he wouldn't text back but immediately call. So one night you decided to ignore his calls and just text him. You knew it would annoy him so even better for a small joke to play.

y/n

hey are you free after practice?

mat

Missed call

y/n

i can't talk right now

mat

Missed call

y/n

so are you free or not?

mat

Missed call

y/n

i guess not

mat

Why are you not answering my calls??

y/n

I just told you.

mat

Incoming call

After you laughed at your own entertainment you finally answered his call, contradicting what you had said.

"I thought you couldn't talk right now." he said through a grin, knowing you were lying.

"I didn't want to talk but you always want to." you admitted

"That's because I like hearing your voice. Although I can hear the sas in your texts just as fine."

"So are you free or not?" you had to get to business before he asked you more questions-

"How was your day?" he asked like always.

You rolled your eyes, "It was fine. Are you free?"

"Mine was pretty good too. Practice went great actually, thanks for asking." he said very sarcastically.

"Mat.'

"Yes?" he said too cheerful

"Are you free?"

"Like right now? Or in a couple of hours. I'm still kind of sweaty. Unless you like that type of stuff-"

Without hesitation you ended the call. Not that you were mad, just a bit annoyed but you knew it would make Mat desperate leaving him high and dry.

mat

Missed call

You kept declining his incoming calls and didn't bother to text because if he did want to see you tonight he would eventually text.

mat

I'll be there in an hour

y/n

:)

+

III.

A different morning you felt him twirling your hair in his hands,

"What are you doing?" you muttered into his cold sheets

"Trying to braid your hair." he whispered back, fully focused on trying to figure out a pattern.

"Don't. You'll just knot it even more." He didn't give up until a minute later because he was in fact knotting your hair.

You turned around after you felt his hands drop,

"Can you teach me?" he asked

"Youtube it." you whispered with your eyes closed

"I'll learn quicker from you." you felt his hands lightly touch your cheek making you lock eyes with him.

You quickly maneuvered to pull him in by the back of his neck. He smirked awaiting for a kiss, but you pulled his shaggy hair causing him to squeal,

"Ow?! that hurt." his eyes turned sad with his pouted lips,

"I just wanted to see how long your hair is. Not long enough to braid." you massaged the back of his head to soothe the pain.

You sat up straight and pulled your hair forward to slowly teach him a three strand braid. After a what felt like forever he kind of got it.

IV.

Overtime Mat broke your walls completely and you enjoyed every second talking and being with him but there were moments that brought you back to reality. The reality of what the relationship was.

It was Valentines day and you hadn't thought anything major about it. Mat would be busy that night like he mentioned before so you would spend it alone.

If he was free he would spend the night like always but you thought it would be weird to buy him something because you're only friends as you reminded yourself many times. You didn't expect anything from him either.

But he took you by surprise by showing up at your door with a huge bouquet of roses and your favorite chocolate.

"What are those?" you asked baffled from your door

"Rosses and chocolate obviously." he said with a smile

"I thought you said you were busy tonight." you still couldn't believe he actually got you something.

"I lied. I wanted to surprise you."

"Well I'm surprised!" you finally moved to let him in, taking the abnormally large bouquet of flowers to place them on your table,

"I didn't get you anything." you admitted waiting to see his disappointment,

"That's fine. I assumed you expected nothing but I still wanted to get you something. Being with you tonight is enough." he walked towards you and kissed you. It was a different kind of kiss than all the ones you shared before. This one felt genuine and not of lust. It was slow and as he deepened the kiss he was careful to not be so rough.

You felt your heart twang and your stomach fill with anxiety like from the very first nights. Even though you reciprocated with every motion in your body, you pushed him away. You stared up at him questioning everything that had happened to lead up to this moment,

"I'll make it up to you," you tried to change your train of thought.

"How?" he had that smirk on his face again

"Don't act dumb." you began to push him towards your bedroom,

"Wait, what about your chocolate?" as if he cared about the damn chocoalte.

"We can eat it after."

You had to change the scenery quickly to avoid those thoughts. You tried to excuse his behavior as him being nice but you knew too well it was more than that.

"Here's your chocolate, my sweets," he bowed to you in your bed. He had never used an endearing nickname before but you let it slide like all the other things.

"Thanks," he climbed back into your bed taking a piece for himself,

"So I was thinking," he said while chewing,

"Oh that's not good." you joked,

"Ha ha" he sarcastically laughed, "You should come to one of my games. I can get you a good view and maybe you'll like it."

You swiftly gasped almost choking on your chocolate, "Me at your game?"

"That is what I said, yes." he cleaned some chocolate off your lips with his thumb, catching you off guard.

"Okay, sounds fun I guess." you said with very clear uncertainty.

"Doesn't sound like fun,” he laughed at your nerves but reassured you, "I want you to see me play in person, it's only one game. And if you don't like it or we lose miserably I'll make it up to you."

"How will you make it up to me?" you smirked to yourself,

"Don't act dumb." he whispered into your ear, kissing your cheek and neck making you squirm.

Moments like these, filled with bliss made you forget all your worries. But the hours before the actual game, your nerves sank back in.

You dressed accordingly and sat in the stands trying to follow the game. Seeing Mat distinguished by his number felt surreal almost. It was a side of Mat you didn’t indulge in often or at all.

He talked about hockey every now and then but it was very brief. To see him skate as fast as he could was shocking. To see him get slammed into the boards was more than shocking but concerning.

You were alone in your seat. Trying to follow the quick pace game. Looking around at the fans with his jersey number. You felt like an outsider even though the player himself had invited you to be there.

When the game ended and the Islanders had won you weren’t bored. You were glad you saw Mat play in person and see the team win. Mat gave you instructions where to meet him after the game.

After some wrong turns and almost giving up trying to find the locker room, you found a sweaty Matt walking in the halls,

“Hey you made it!” he jogged up to you for a quick hug and a quick kiss. Another action of Matt that surprised you. The two of you never kissed in public.

“I want you to meet some of my teammates.” His body radiated of excitement and giddiness.

“Sure,” you agreed with fake excitement. You were definitely not expecting such socialization with Matt’s close friends.

He introduced you to his teammates as a ‘good friend’ with an arm wrapped around you the whole time. The whole situation was nauseating. His teammates were kind but the whole thing was very confusing; as to what this introduction was or what you and Matt were.

You were able to end the introductions early when you told Matt you didn’t feel good, which wasn’t that far off from the truth,

“Are you okay to drive home?” he asked

“Yeah I’m just have a bad headache.”

“Okay I’ll see you tonight then?” Matt had planned to be with you after the game but you felt it would be better to have some time alone,

“Actually I think I’ll go asleep alone tonight. I’m just worn out.” you tried your best to lie and it barely worked.

“Okay I’ll call tomorrow.” You hum in agreement before almost running out of that arena.

On the drive home you felt your heart beat faster than you ever felt before. Things were getting too real you said to yourself in the car.

You and Matt had promised since the very beginning that this wouldn’t be anything more. But that promise had long been broken. You knew things had to slow down or stop completely, but only one of those options were possible.

+

You thought it would be best to see him at his place rather than your own. So you called him,

“Y/n calling me? It can’t be.” He joked

“Mat can I see you later tonight?” You asked in all seriousness ignoring his joke,

“You know you can y/n.”

“Great I’ll see you later.” You kept the call short, ignoring his calls right after.

When he opened his door for you, he cradled your face and smothered you with kisses. Something he sometimes did when he was in a happy mood.

You hated yourself for what you were about to do,

“Matt we need to talk,” you pushed him away only to see him lean in again, “What? Is it about the game? I thought I had pretty good night. What did you think?”

You despised how your eyes started to tear up but you kept a straight voice,

“We need to end this.”

“What?” He laughed as if he didn’t hear you correctly.

“Whatever this is. Things are getting too personal. They have been for weeks now and I should’ve been more persistent but I am now.”

“What are you talking about?” His hands dropped from your arms to his sides,

“Whatever this was is over.”

“This is over? Just like that?” He scoffed starting to become agitated, he didn’t understand where this was coming from,

“Yeah how else would you end a fuck buddy relationship?” You retaliated in attitude and nerves.

“But this isn’t a fuck buddy relationship! Not when I’m love with you!”

Mat never failed to surprise you but you should have seen this coming.

“You don’t mean that.” you unconsciously replied.

“The fuck I don’t!” His frustration was making things difficult so you had lied next,

“There’s someone else.” You tried to hold eye contact to make things believable but Mat knew better,

“Who?”

“You don’t know him.”

“So you see commitment in this ‘guy’ but not with me? The man you’ve been fucking with the past months.”

“That’s all it was Mat, it was just sex.”

“Thats bullshit! You’re telling me that you don’t feel anything more for me than just a fuck buddy?” His eyes looked dark with sadness and tears welling up,

“I told you from the beginning that I wanted nothing more. You promised too.” You lowered your voice to lessen the awful tension.

“Well I guess I broke that promise.” He stood there waiting for you say something but you didn’t know what else to say. So he broke the silence,

“Y/n, I’m in love with you.” his voice wavered,

“Mat.”

“I love you and you’re scared of being with me fully but I can wait because I don’t believe there is another guy.”

“Mat stop.”

“I’ve been in love with you probably since the very beginning and I’ll still love you for a long time.” He rambled trying to reach for your touch but you had to conclude things.

“Mat, I don’t love you.” You said harshly to get your point across.

You moved his arms from reaching yours, “There is another guy and I need to keep my options open while I’m young. You should too.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered leaving his apartment.

+

It had been weeks when you broke his heart. He didn’t give up even after that horrible fight. He continued to call and text. He even showed up to your place but kept silent.

You tried to not cry for him or the ended relationship. It wasn’t fair or right but it had to be done. That’s at least what you told yourself every night before going to asleep.

Mat would find someone better and move on. It would be like nothing ever happened between you two. Just lost in history.

He eventually stop calling and showing up at your door. It was the first steps to finally moving on you told yourself.

“Who’s ‘M’?” Your friend had pulled you from your thoughts.

“Huh?” You were making dinner for your guest as it was rare to have her over.

“This.” She showed you the polaroid. It was the polaroid Mat had toke of you one of your mornings.

~~~

“Stop snooping.” You watched him walking around your room, observing your shelves and tables.

“I’m not snooping. Just looking.” He grabbed the white polaroid you had gotten as a gift from your shelve.

“Now you’re touching.” You said from the comfort of your bed,

“Say cheese.” He climbed over you to take a picture,

“It’s too early for a photoshoot.” You held your hands up blocking the lens,

“C’mon just one photo,” be begged trying to move your hands,

“I don’t feel pretty.” You pulled your comforter above your face,

He leaned down to slowly pull down the comforter, “You always look pretty,” he whispered as he softly kissed you.

Catching you off guard he took a quick shot of you smiling. He wrote the date and his initial in sharpie after snooping in your desk.

~~~

“He’s just some guy.” You say nonchalantly avoiding the possible topic.

“Did he take this picture?” Of course she asks,

“Yeah he did.” You replied,

“This isn’t the same guy from that bar right?” You didn’t tell her much about Mat. Just that you were seeing someone very casually.

“He is actually, or was.” You tried to focus on the chopped vegetables rather than the sad eyes Mat looked at you with.

“What do you mean was?” She persisted and you gave in explaining everything.

“Hold up. This guy obviously cares about you, even told you that he loves you and you turned him down?”

“This is why I didn’t tell you everything.”

“Because you don’t want to hear the truth that this guy loves you. Love. The things everybody wants. And you just give it up like that.”

“He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with me!”

“Why the hell not!? He had every reason to. Do you love him?” You hated how she asked the most difficult yet important questions.

“I don’t know.” You said half heartedly.

“You don’t know.” Her eyes pierced yours as you kept lying to yourself and others over and over again.

“It would never work me and him! He has a busy schedule and-“ you start the excuses,

“Oh but not busy enough to fuck each other!”

“Y/n be real. Let’s put the lies and excuses away. Why can’t you let yourself be happy for once while you have the chance?”

“You don’t understand. I broke his heart. I saw it in his face when I told him I didn’t love him. I don’t deserve to see him again or to ask for another chance.“

“Well I think everyone deserves a second chance. And if he truly loves you, he can understand your point of view.”

She forced you to see him again. You still couldn’t see why you should let yourself be happy even after breaking his heart. But you were on your way to his place with the same pit of anxiety in your stomach.

You didn’t call or text before to see if he was home. You didn’t want him to decline your request before seeing him in person, so you knocked on his door.

The moment he opened the door your heart ached. His face was visibly sad and his eyes red. You wanted to run away again but you couldn’t feel anything but pity and guilt.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure” His voice was deep and raspy. His face lacked emotion except when he saw you, he didn’t think he would see you again.

The silence of the apartment was deafening and uncomfortable, but you took a seat on his couch, signaling him to do the same.

“Mat, I am so sorry for the things that I said and did throughout everything. I didn’t mean any of it.”

You paused to collect your shaky breath and thoughts,

“You’re right. I am scared to be with you fully because you’re the most important and life changing thing that has happened to me and it terrifies me. From the beginning I only wanted something simple with no strings attached but then everything started to become so real without us even discussing it! I can’t blame you for treating me like how any girl dreams to be treated, I just wish we had slowed down and talked about things first and then maybe I wouldn’t have lied about there being someone else. Because there isn’t, I mean how could there be when you’ve been always by my side? What im trying to say is that if somehow you don’t hate me, hopefully we can start again?”

You could hear your pulse banging in your ears when he didn’t say anything. He just looked at you indifferently but still with those red eyes.

“You’re right too. I was in the wrong to continue things like we were official and not talk about it. I should I have said something earlier before I asked you to meet the guys. Maybe before Valentine’s Day too, that was probably a surprise.” He laughs at his lighthearted joke to soothe the tension, making you laugh too with tears falling down your face.

“You brought me a bouquet the size of a tire, so I was a little bit surprised.”

Both you laughed at how ridiculously huge those flowers were but of how sweet the gesture was. Mat broke the sweet silence with a question that had been left unanswered,

“Y/n, do you love me?”

You sympathized for him, the look of sincerity and incandescent love he had for you. You nod your head with a tearful smile.

He breaked into glossy eyed smile as he reached over to embrace and kiss you. A replica, but somehow better, kiss of the Valentine’s Day one. A slow but passionate kiss of pure adoration and love. He pulled away after what felt enough for now,

“I have to hear you say it though,” he states

“Say what?” You licked your lips eyeing his before meeting his eyes,

He slightly cocked his head to the side, “Don’t act dumb.”

“I love you, Mathew Barzal.”