#latinas who lead

[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)

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 missed you so much" you pout.

"I missed you too" he whispers out, getting tired.

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.

"Missed 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"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕰YES ON THEM

Manon Bannerman x fem!reader

summary: a compilation of bannern/n moments eyekons have turned into a video, katseye’s two visuals as a power couple? who can keep their eyes off them?

warnings: none, just fluffy moments

pt.2, pt.3

HYBE PLEASE NEVER PR TRAIN MANON (KATZ CRACK)

*Loud technical difficulty transition* On Manon and Daniela’s Weverse livestream in their bedroom, Daniela was doing dance moves in the background of the video while Manon read the comments and chatted with fans in the front

Manon was the worst at PR training. The woman had lips looser than an unbuckled belt. She was much more tame when they were surrounded by crew members, but when it’s just her and her phone on Weverse, you can expect a lot of slips.

Especially when she’s paired alone with Daniela.

“‘Where are the others?’” Manon read aloud, looking back at Daniela, who was finally settling to sit behind her roommate. “What, you sick of us already?”

Daniela swatted her arm at the tone she used, as if a silent warning as to be careful what people could take out of context. She toyed with her hood, listing what the girls were occupied with. “Well, Sophia’s on a zoom call downstairs with her family. I think Yoonchae went to bed… Lara and Megan went out to get something at the convenience store and Y/N is probably online shopping or something in her room.”

“Yeah, she better be getting me my Christmas gift.”

“Didn’t she already give you like three ‘pre-game’ gifts?” Daniela turned to the camera, “Oh my God, Y/N does this thing where she gets Manon a million things for the week leading up to Christmas. She only does it for Manon and I always feel like choking her out ‘cuz she’s spoiling her rotten.”

Manon rolled her eyes, “They’re gonna know we’re—!”

Daniela widened her eyes, shooting Manon a knowing glare before the older pursed her lips together. The both of them went silent for a moment, scared to look at the influx of questions and comments they were getting for the sudden cutoff, curious to know what the end of Manon’s sentence was.

user01 WE WHAT MANON WE WHAT

user02 Manon almost exposed their relationship

user03 is this what getting edged feels like

user04 WE BEEN KNEW GIRL COME ON OUT

user05 Y/N knows how to spoil her girl

“Anyway,” Daniela said, ignoring the nosh comments. “Yeah, we have the weekend off, so everybody’s just chilling, y’know.”

Manon, with a cheeky smile on her face, tried retieing her hair in attempts to distract the fans from what she had just nearly revealed. But for the next couple minutes, despite Daniela’s efforts to pull everybody’s attention away from that topic, the audience always seemed to circle back to it.

“No, I have to say my favourite hoodie has to be the black Ferrari one.” Manon argued, staring at a suspicious Daniela. “It used to be the one you just said but it’s not anymore.”

“You’re just making stuff up, I swear. You still wear the other one so much more than the Ferrari one.” Daniela scoffed, “You wore the blue one like five times this week, like you literally wore it to dinner yesterday.”

user06 the blue hoodie Y/N just posted on insta in??

user07 They wear each other’s clothes I’m dead

user08 Dani have you seen Y/N’s new bracelet???

Daniela squinted to read the comment when she saw her name was mentioned, “‘Dani, have you seen Y/N’s new bracelet?’ No, I can’t say I have. What is it?”

“Oh, is it this one?” Manon flashed her wrist to the camera, where a couple cuffs and bracelets hung. Her other hand picked out a thin silver chain with a “K” strung at the end of it. “This is the one Megan got us for Katseye’s first birthday.”

She flaunted her hand, fingers waving around as she showed off her accessories.

user09 Y/N’s new necklace looks nice Manon!

user10 oh yeah that would look really good around her neck

Daniela skimmed the comments, suddenly bursting into a fit of high-pitched giggles. Manon, her arm still up, in the middle of her accessory tour, leant back. Surprised by the Latina’s sudden change in attitude, she glanced between the camera and her roommate as if she was an insane person.

“Oh my God, they’re saying your hands would make a really good necklace for Y/N.” Daniela explained, still laughing.

Manon’s eyes widened, heat immediately flushing to her cheeks. She thanked all the Gods her smooth skin tone hid any hint of fluster, or she would have been beer red at the comment. She placed a hand over her eyes, her lips quirking into a small smile as she groaned.

“That’s good, that’s a good one. I like that.” Daniela sighed.

Next door, you could hear the two of them screaming and squabbling on live. You opened a new tab, sick of scrolling through the same catalogues on different websites. You were feeling lazy, didn’t really feel like getting up to join the two nextdoor, so you pulled up Weverse, clicking onto Manon’s live. Right off the bat, you were met with the Ghanaian woman showing off her bracelets and such, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the comments that followed.

Sometimes, this was your favourite part about having fans.

When Daniela’s laugh on the live had synced with the one next door, you couldn’t help but also giggle at Manon’s reaction when she was told what eyekons thought of her tour.

It was enough of a motivator to go nextdoor; to tease her.

“—Anyway! Can we please talk about anything else.”

A knock sounded through the room, both their heads turned to the door, watching Y/N’s head pop through the doorway. Daniela pounced to her feet, jogging over to jump into the older’s arms as Y/N carried her back in front of the camera.

Manon rolled her eyes, her tongue sticking against her inner cheek as she stared at the two goofing around in the back.

user11 Oh someone’s jealous…

used12 if looks could kill they’d be dead by now

“Dani’s so light, I can probably squat heavier than you.” Y/N teased, her arms still wrapped around the Latina’s waist as Daniela clung onto her with her legs. “Anyways, you guys were being so loud, I wanted to see what was up.”

Y/N finally sets Daniela down, who found her spot behind Manon again.

Y/N slung an arm over Manon, poking her head between the roommates. “Heard you have a new necklace for me, Meret. You feeling like letting me try it out?”

user13 the way i’d just moan in response

user14 NOBODY TALK TO ME

user15 Manon I’ll take Y/N if you don’t want her

user16 SHE CALLS HER MERET???

The Ghanaian woman didn’t turn to greet the younger member, instead, with her lips pursed in envy, she deliberately made sure her efforts to ignore Y/N were evident.

Y/N smiled, biting her lip. “Manon, are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Manon huffed, her eyes still trained on the phone. “I’m just tryna talk to eyekons.”

Daniela hissed, making an “Oh, shit” expression and backing away so the other member could slide into where she sat. She eyed the phone from over Y/N’s shoulder, as if telling them she was unaware of what was about to unfold as well.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head at the eldest’s sulking.

She slid an arm under Manon’s legs, the other securely held over her back. Kneeling, Y/N sprung to her feet, lifting Manon from the ground. The Ghanaian woman let out a bloodcurdling shriek, hands clutching onto Y/N’s hoodie for dear life.

“Did you feel left out, Manon? I was just joking around.”

Daniela watched in terror at the younger member flung Manon around the room in her arms. She slid forward to mouth “help me” into the camera, scared Manon’s feet might hit her head by accident.

“Oh my God, you ass—you bully, put me down.”

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Cut to being interviewed as promotion for the release of Touch, Y/N seemed to be the interviewer’s main foci.

“—Yes, thank you. My next question is for Y/N, uh, so we heard you like a tall, dark and handsome type.” The interviewer read off his card, a mic held up to his lips. The question immediately raised some red flags for the group, Sophia and Manon—as the eldest and the leader—shared a knowing look. They were ready for whatever the man had to throw at them. “You’ve posted a couple of instagram photos and been seen out with a certain singer that’s been on Euphoria, is this a new potential partner, or what’s going on there?”

Y/N was slightly taken aback by how blunt the question came out. Usually management did a good job keeping questions about their personal lives out of interviews when they approve them for the video, but this one must’ve snuck past them.

The woman raised her mic, flashing the cameras her signature smile. The other members could only sit and admire how well her composure was, despite being asked such an intrusive query. She chuckled, eyeing Manon, who didn’t bother hiding what she was feeling. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she looked to be ready to pounce out of her chair whenever. Y/N gave her a subtle nod, as if telling her to stand down.

“Well, he and I met through mutual friends in the industry and we all get together to hang out on my day offs.” Y/N explained, “We’re just good buddies, nothing more.”

The interviewer chuckled, naive to the searing glares he was receiving from all the girls.

“Shame, a lot of people think you’d look like a power couple, the both of you being very talented singers and all,” he scanned his card, the only one laughing in the room full of dozens of people. “Is there anybody special in your life then? Or is this a chance for me to shoot my shot.”

Oh, six pairs of eyes glared daggers at him.

[ Love that they all stand up for their girl ]

None of them were smiling anymore, not even out of courtesy. Daniela and Lara in the front had their arms crossed, their legs spread as they sneered at the man. Megan and Yoonchae were the better ones at concealing just how aghast they were at the unprofessionalism, their expressions stoic, but the aura around them growing cold. Sophia sat upright, ready to jump in when the man stopped talking, but Manon—Manon was sitting beside Y/N, and it took one look at the woman’s uncomfortable expression for her to want to break the man’s neck.

“—Actually, we’re all really focused on our journey as Katseye right now, so we don’t really have time for other kinds of commitment just yet. Even then, we try and keep our personal and professional lives separated because a healthy work-life balance is very important.” Manon answered passively, her smile immediately fading when she finished talking.

But by the way the man gulped and stopped chuckling, it was obvious he finally noticed the elephant in the room.

“I understand how people are very intrigued by that aspect of our lives though, it can be hard to know where to draw the line sometimes.” Y/N added in a smoother tone, hoping to soften the blow of loathing this man was hit with. “But, respectfully, we love talking about and sharing our experience with making music more than we do discussing our lives.”

The interviewer nodded, “Of course. We can move on.”

Throughout the rest of the interview, Manon had a hand on the younger member’s thighs. Their fingers laced together as they answered the rest of the questions. Later, Y/N would tease the Ghanaian woman with edits people have made of the moment Manon stood up for her.

A screenshot of a very popular one of those edits would be the wallpaper for the girls’ group chat the next few weeks,

*Loud technical difficulty transition* In Y/N’s Weverse live with Megan for a dance session, the older between the two was obviously distracted by constant chimes coming from her phone. Fans get a nice surprise all on live.

Megan and Y/N swayed their hips to the beat, thrusting in and pulling away as the song played. The comments would flood with praises for their undeniably talented skills, and by the end of their choreography, they were both panting and sweating.

user01 omg omg omg omg my dinner menu

user02 The difference in outfits is taking me out

user03 BOOM SHAKALAKA YES GAWD

Y/N ran a hand through her hair, dapping Megan up before the two of them approached Megan’s phone. It was resting on a chair against the wall, so it would stream everything they did.

In a sports bra and baggy jeans, Y/N had her hair down. She was sporting thick glasses, ones fans pointed out Daniela liked wearing in the series of tiktok’s they filmed last month. Megan on the other hand, had a more Adam Sandler type fit going on. The two of them devoured their individual styles.

[ Oh my god, it’s all over the screen ]

“That’s the choreo Megan and I have done so far.”

Y/N’s phone buzzed. She reached into her pocket, pulling it out to see a text from Manon asking if she was in her room.

Megan’s infectious cackle interrupted before she could reply.

“Someone said we’re not pregnant but we always deliver,” she managed to read out in between gasping for air amidst her fit of amusement. “Oh my God, that’s so iconic.”

Opening her mouth to retaliate, another buzz sounds.

Y/N pulled her phone back out from her pocket, seeing another text from Manon, urging for an answer. She chuckled, shaking her head at the woman’s impatience.

Megan skimmed the comments, before turning back.

“Somebody said, ‘Only one thing could have Y/N smiling at her phone like that’.” The Chinese dancer read out, “Another person added, ‘Manon’s probably missing her boo thang’.”

Y/N shook her head, deciding keeping up appearances with their fans was more important than replying right away.

“It was just our manager, guys. A reminder for what we need to do tomorrow.” Y/N lied, “Anyway, if anybody was wondering, we are working really hard for MAMA. Especially Meggers here.” She grabbed the redhead, yanking her close to knock their heads together. “She’s carrying the dancing with Dani right now.”

peanutbutterlover02 Bad girl

peanutbutterlover02 Y/N’s ignoring my texts :(

peanutbutterlover02 Guysss stop hogging Y/N

Y/N and Megan both silenced at the sudden pop of a verified user commenting, but after reading the handle, both of them shared a moment of faux annoyance.

“Manon, get out of our comment section!” Megan yelled, “Go do something, man!”

The meme reference squeezed a laugh from Y/N, who shook her head. But, still, it’s Katseye. Of course she couldn’t resist joining in on the teasing herself. Her voice dropped low, “News flash, Dwayne’s forehead isn’t real. It’s a prosthetic.”

Both of them giggle at their own joke.

user04 Oop- Manon’s coming to collect fr

user05 can’t even defend them anymore

user06 so we were right Y/N was giggling cuz of manon

user07 BAD GIRL IS CRAZY

“Sorry, Meret, we’re just about to wrap this session up and I’ll text you back immediately after, okay?”

Manon could only suck it up, leaving a couple more disappointed comments on their livestream as Megan and Y/N show eyekons another part of choreography.

peanutbutterlover02 I’m so boreddddddd

peanutbutterlover02 I’m still waiting >:(

peanutbutterlover02 Guys I need my best friend back

[ BEST FRIEND—sure ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* A KATSEYE HOLIDAY STORY | KATSEYE; Secret Santa Portion

Y/N’s wrapping a gift set, a Fenty beauty make-up kit she specially assembled for Manon. She knew the woman had been complaining about her makeup supply running low, so what better chance than to get her what she needed?

“I know, I know, I went a little over budget,” Y/N chuckled, taping the edges of the wrapping paper together. “But Manon’s been really needing new stuff, and I wanted it.”

[ Ofc Y/N would go above and beyond for Manon ]

“Also, let me tell you guys a secret.” Y/N walked offscreen, coming back with a tiny box.

She motioned for the camera to zoom into the box, before popping it open. Inside, there was a gold necklace, a crown charm at the end of it. Y/N tucked it back into the box, holding a finger up to her lips.

“I got Manon an extra gift, but that’s for after work.”

[ That’s so cute I need me a Y/N ]

“Anyway, I’m glad I got Manon. I think either Daniela or Yoonchae might be my secret santa, ‘cuz I’m sure Megan got Lara and Lara got Sophia.” Y/N shrugged, standing in her cream coloured silky pj set. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

Sat around a table on a very festive set, Y/N was instructed to slot in between Megan and Manon.

One by one, the girls presented their gifts to their designated person. When Yoonchae presented Daniela her gift, a neatly wrapped book, it was the Latina’s turn to pull out her gift bag.

“And my secret santa is…” Drumrolls against the table followed, “Y/N!”

Cheers erupted amongst the girls as Daniela slid the bag across the table to Y/N.

“Hope you like it, babe.”

The wrapping paper was still being pulled off as Y/N let out a surprised gasp. Underneath the vibrant wrapping was a vinyl—Rumours, by Fleetwood Mac. Y/N’s eyes lit up instantly. It was one of their favorite albums, something she had been looking for on vinyl forever.

“No way…! Dani, how’d you find this?” Y/N exclaimed, holding it up to the group, her voice practically sparkling.

Dan smiled proudly, her hands still resting on her own wrapped gift. “Well, I know you’re all about that rock life,” she said with a wink, knowing how much this record meant to Y/N. “I had my ways. As long as you’re happy, it was worth it.”

As everyone cheered and clapped, Manon side-eyed the gift.

She had noticed the way Y/N's eyes practically glowed when Daniela handed her the vinyl. It wasn’t just about the gift itself—it was the way Y/N was so genuinely excited. She loved seeing her happy, but Manon herself would have been happier if she had been the reason for such a smile. The way Y/N laughed and praised Daniela, even going as to get out of her chair to tackle the Latina in a hug. The little things that made Manon feel... well, a little left out. She quickly shifted her attention to the other girls, pretending to focus on the conversation, but her mind lingered on the discomfort.

Y/N notices Manon's mood; she smirked.

“Okay, so, it’s my turn.” Y/N turned, grabbing her bag from the floor. The bag had been topped with a cute silver ribbon, the gift itself wrapped with the same paper as the others’ gifts. “And, there’s two people left who hasn’t gotten their secret santa gift yet, so, drumroll, please!”

The table once again rocked as they drummed their hands.

“I have… my favourite drama queen, Manon.”

The Ghanaian woman widened her eyes, hands taking in the present Y/N shimmied over to her. The younger slung her arm over Manon’s shoulders, rubbing it as she watched her open and unwrap the present. A loud yelp rung through the studio, startling the others before Manon fully unwrapped it.

Her face softened when she saw what was inside: a Fenty beauty set—lip glosses, a highlighter, and a few items she had been eyeing for weeks but hadn’t splurged on herself.

“Okay, now I know for a fact this is out of budget.” Lara crossed her arms, her eyebrow raised in question.

“Bro, can we do secret santa without Y/N next year?” Sophia chimed, earning a couple teasing agreements. “You’re making all of us look bad now, N/N.”

“Y/N...” Manon whispered, her heart fluttering. “You really did this for me? This was probably so expensive.”

Y/N waved a hand dismissively. “Best way to spend my money. The holidays are all about love, right? This is how I show you guys I love you.” She pulled Megan and Manon into her arms, squeezing them both as the others joined in for a big hug. “I got you all things you want, don’t worry.”

Manon’s smile returned, brighter than before. She leaned in to hug Y/N individually after, her voice quiet but sincere. “You didn’t have to, but I’m so glad you did.”

Their hug lasted a little long, even their editing team seemed to tease them a bit with the excessive exaggeration of how long it was with a time ticking effect over the other girls’ reactions.

The rest of the group watched, their smiles growing as they witnessed the little moment between the two. It was clear, despite the playful teasing and occasional misunderstandings, that Y/N and Manon were closer than anyone could imagine.

Manon held the box up to her chest, beaming.

“Okay, so, Manon, you’re doing yours—!”

[ Y/N really loves spoiling her bandmates, especially Manon… ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Cut to Lara and Yoonchae’s live. The two were sat on the floor of their hotel room, singing and joking around as Sophia occasionally shushed them to be a bit quieter.

“No, Yoonchae, if we were in the Hunger Games, the order we’d go from dying to surviving would be Manon, Sophia, Me, You, Megan, Dani and then Y/N. I feel like Dani’s like so wild and freaky she’d be able to survive better than you.” Lara argued, earning a loud whine of protest from Sophia across the room. “And Megan would be the type to like survive off the stupidest reason, like she’ll accidentally kill someone.”

Yoonchae pouted, “No, no! It’s you, Dani, me, then Y/N.”

“Yoonchae, I swear to God, I’m telling you.” Lara held a hand up, “It’s me, you, Megan, Dani and then Y/N.”

The youngest huffed, unwilling to argue.

user01 Lara any advice on how to flirt w a girl

Yoonchae pointed at the phone. Lara leant forward to read the comment she was pointing out, her lips curving into a smile immediately. “Oh, wow. That’s a question you should ask Y/N. Or Manon… Only ‘cuz the two of them are such flirty people.”

Lara looked offscreen, a guilty smile on her face as she glanced at Sophia for help.

[ Nice save Lara, definitely super slick ]

“Yes, Manon is very…” Yoonchae does a winky face into the camera, “And Y/N gets flirted with a lot when we go to dinner.”

Lara hummed, drawing attention away from what she almost exposed. “Yes. Y/N has a very fluid appearance, she gets a lot of guys and girls coming up to her in public.”

Sophia, voice faint, chimed, “Yeah, it’s a real problem.”

“So, I feel like that’s a good question to ask Y/N. She has the most aura, most unspoken rizz among all of us.”

user02 does manon get jealous when Y/N’s hit on?

[ Took me a while to find this comment! ]

Lara laughed aloud at a comment, momentarily confusing Yoonchae before the younger caught the statement as well. They shared a knowing look, and when their laughter died down, they just remained silent and moved on.

user03 Who’s the most jealous/possessive as a gf?

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for somebody to ask this.” Lara rubbed her hands together, “Yoonchae and I actually talked about this at some point. Okay, it goes, from least to most, Yoonchae, Y/N, Megan, Sophia, Me, Dani and then Manon.”

user04 match made in heaven

user05 They’re so jealous x comforting duo my heart

“Because Yoonchae, Y/N and Megan are much more relaxed and I feel like Sophia’s jealous, but she can hide it well. Me, Dani and Manon are definitely more fighters, because ain’t nobody coming near my bae if we dating.” Lara squared up to the camera, eyeing it up and down. “Manon is just lowkey a psycho, so she was at the top of the list.”

Yoonchae nodded, “I’m scared of Manon when she’s angry.”

“I’ve seen Manon mad over something, guys. It’s not pretty and I do not recommend.” Sophia yelled.

[ Since Y/N gets flirted with a lot and Sophia’s seen Manon angry… it’s so obvious ya’ll ]

[m1epes]

hey so um im a bitchless loser who has been thinking about this for 10 minutes and I need to act on it now sooo uh here’s GK!Jason x mixed reader/oc cuz uhhhh im Asian and Latina. Can’t stress this enough but please remember writing is not my strongest suit

Anyways here’s GK!Jason cause he needs more loving

GK!Jason who had been dragged along to a club by Dick, mainly to hang out together and spend time together. A couple drinks in and Dick disappears to fuck all somewhere, leaving Jason alone. Jason stands at the bar, staring at a woman from across the room. Talking to a couple friends in Spanish only to then switch to Mandarin. He hadn’t even NOTICED the fact he was staring the woman down, being left by the bar, she was only expected to cross him at least once, so when she finally did he couldn’t help but talk to her…

somehow talking to her lead into kissing, groping, and soon he found himself fucking the life out of her in a unisex bathroom. He hadn’t even know the woman’s name, and here he was, whispering in her ear about how she was only his as she lifted her, and then slammed her back down on his cock. There were a couple knocks on the door but he didn’t care, he continued until he filled up her pretty little pussy to the point he cum was leaking out of her. Then he went for a second round, and then a third, a couple rounds later she was a babbling mess, reverted back to her native tongue before the door opened, Dick being met with the sight of his brother fucking a random girl, knowing full well he won’t stop talking about her now until he found her again.

[comesatimecomesashadow]

el perdedor *ೃ༄

pairing *ೃ༄ shadow the hedgehog x latina reader

fic type *ೃ༄ one-shot / fluff

cw *ೃ༄ machismo (ew), nothing else !

summary *ೃ༄ shadow's infatuation with your culture.

note *ೃ༄ i kept it pretty low-key because theres so many different cultures within latam mb if i got some things wrong TwT

masterlist *ೃ༄

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ There are many things Shadow finds interesting/endearing about your nature & culture. Speaking for us as a whole, we latinas are usually raised in machista households (and while that may not be a good thing), that means that the women in our culture are raised as caregivers/nurturers. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ For Shadow, this is uncharted territory since he’s only ever known hardship, pain and suffering. So when you opened up the doors of your home to him and allowed him into your life? He was more than nervous about it (though he didn’t show it). He did get used to it and gradually fell in love with the way you treated others and cared for them even if you didn’t know them. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ When you call him pet names in spanish or just code switch between english & spanish, you better believe he’s not listening to anything that’s coming out of your mouth (he’s too busy hearing the way you roll your r’s and stress certain syllables). Shadow (with his big brain) does end up learning Spanish phrases from you (the bad words too) & you better believe that he’s using it in his daily life. 

“Es que mira, vos no entendes que así no se..” It had been about fifteen minutes since you were on the phone with your mom. It was supposed to be a simple call to catch up but somehow it turned into you lecturing her — Not that he was complaining. Shadow looked at you pacing around the living room, listening to every word that came out of your mouth. Even the cuss words sounded pretty coming from your mouth. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Whether it be eating the classic latam struggle meal: huevo con salchicha/chorizo, or eating tamales on christmas, one of his favorite things about your culture is the food. If you give him Baho (nicaraguan girlies wya) or carne con papa (cubanas rise up), he’s eating it all up and asking for seconds. He admires the way that food is typically made to share with others in your culture. There is never a dull moment with him at the kitchen table, that’s for sure. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ When you’re so willing to pet through his quills and hug him close to you, even with others being present, he’s a little nervous about it since he’s not used to others seeing him so completely in love (& accepting of your affection). Sonic would be confused as hell when he witnesses Shadow and you exchanging words in spanish when y’all thought no one was listening. 

“When did you learn spanish??” Sonic asked while you were in the kitchen preparing cups of coffee for the four of you. Shadow only scoffed and crossed his arms. “Hmph. If you must know, I just picked it up.” Now it was Sonic who crossed his arms in disbelief. “Really?” Shadow nodded. “You should hear her on the phone.” 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ At family gatherings, everybody is all over him. I’m talking Tias, Tios, cousins (especially the younger ones), grandparents- hell, everyone wants to know what the hedgehog means to you. You have to usher him away from all of them before they begin interrogating and basically stealing him away from you. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He both loves and hates when you pull him onto the dancefloor at parties. He loves it because it’s a rather intimate thing to dance salsa/bachata with you BUT he hates it because he feels like everyone's watching the two of you (which they are). He liked it when you taught him how to dance, frankly you thought he wouldn’t be able to due to his height, but surprisingly enough, when he takes the lead, it makes up for his height — or lack thereof. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He loves watching La Rosa De Guadalupe reruns with you especially the ones with the emo teens. I’m not even going to lie, I can see him totally tearing up at emotional scenes and talking at the TV like he can actually talk to the characters. It’s an amazing thing when you see him absolutely distraught at the romance triangles and the drama in Rosario Tijeras or El Señor de Los Cielos. 

“She was absolutely right in killing that man, I would have done the same.” Shadow nodded in approval with his arms crossed as he watched Rosario off one of her enemies yet again. “Sometimes I think you get too invested in these..” you chuckled a little. “Amor, please.” Shadow only rolled his eyes. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ And of course, our holidays. If you celebrate Dia de Los Muertos, he finds it a sentimental thing to remember loved ones and put things that they liked onto their Ofrendas. When you suggested he put Maria on the Ofrenda, he was a little lost but after participating in it, he appreciated the gesture and the love and care that went into remembering loved ones in your culture. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He absolutely adores spanish music. From reggaeton, to salsa, to bachata, to rancheras — He loves them all. Especially the duet bachata ones! (they’re the most dramatic ones + he gets to sing them with you so it’s a win win). While Shadow is definitely a closed off hedgehog, he warms up to you and holds your culture to your heart. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ It's because of that, that he’s also ready to defend you when he sees the machismo in your culture. He dismantles your way of thinking (when it comes to social expectations in your family/culture) and helps you gain confidence in who you are. He never wants to reduce you to an object to be owned or a prize to be won. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ If you’re expected to serve him plates of food at gatherings, he’s coming with you and sticking to you like glue. He loves it when you dote on him, but not when it's forced or expected of you to do so. Overall, he’d be the best lover & I wish he was real.

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀౨౿⠀ ۟⠀.⠀𝓛𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝓘𝐍 𝓢𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓⠀!⠀ ׅ ⠀♡⠀᠀

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀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.

“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.

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.

© 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

ꕥ series masterlist & taglist ⋆. 𐙚 ˚masterlist ✧₊⁺AO3

⟢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.

⟢pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

⟢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

Chapter 1: Where Fiction Becomes A Reality

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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[gatawoman]

What Cat?

Pairing: Jason Todd x Latina!Reader!Fem!Reader x Red Hood

Quick Summary: You are Selina Kyle’s adopted daughter, dating Jason Todd. You’re not adopted legally, but she secretly took you in as a child. You avoid the chaotic life your mom and boyfriend live, but a fluffy little creature has other plans.

A/N: The reader uses some Caribbean Spanish slang:

• Micho (means kitty)

• Bodega (corner store/deli)

• Coño (fuck)

☪︎･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂☪︎･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆

For as long as you can remember, ever since you were “adopted” by Selina, she has tried to keep you away from the vigilante, anti-hero, and villain lifestyle. It wasn’t just her decision—it was mutual. You wanted to live a “normal life,” as normal as Gotham could get. The one thing that connects you both is your love for cats, which leads you to your current predicament: chasing an injured, homeless black cat through Gotham’s docks at 1 a.m.

“Micho, Micho, come here, cutie,” you coo in the sweetest voice you can manage.

“C’mon, gatita, I have food for you.”

With a deep sigh, you place a can of sardines on the cold, concrete, grime-stained ground. What were you even thinking? It’s the middle of winter, and you’ve been chasing this cat for 30 minutes. You have no idea where you are. All you know is that you’re in the docks—in Gotham—at 1 a.m.—in the freezing cold. And as the chill seeps into your bones, all you can think is, If I’m cold, the cat has to be colder. So, you do what anyone with a heart would do. You keep chasing it.

“I’m gonna leave this precious new can of sardines here, okay?” you call out, a teasing edge to your tone. “Hopefully, no one takes i—”

Your sentence is cut short by a buzz from your phone.

Reaching into your coat pocket, you pull out the glowing device, its brightness stinging your eyes, now accustomed to the dark. The caller ID reads Cat Mom.

“Hello?” you answer, attempting your best “I’m-totally-asleep” voice.

“Explain to me why you’re near the Gotham docks at 1 a.m., Miss,” Selina’s sharp, sassy voice cuts through the line.

You cringe, instantly feeling like the little girl who once got caught stealing candy from the corner bodega. Even though you’re 23 now, she still has that effect on you.

“What are you talking about? I’m in bed right now,” you lie weakly.

“WE share locations, remember?” she snaps.

Caught red-handed.

“I have a logical reason,” you admit. “A cat was cold and alone, and she looked so skinny. I had to help her.”

You know you’ve got her there—she is Catwoman, after all.

“Listen, I know you want to help, love,” she says, her tone softening. “But it’s freezing, and you’re in a dangerous area. Do you even know where you are?”

Her concern makes you uneasy. Selina doesn’t usually sound this worried unless something is serious. Taking the hint, you decide to head home.

“You’re right. I’m going ba—”

A loud bang echoes from one of the nearby shipping containers, cutting you off.

“Hello? Y/N? Are you okay? What was that? You need to get out of there!” Selina’s voice rises in urgency.

Before you can respond, you feel a sharp object press against your back. Of course, this has to happen now, when you were just trying to do a good deed.

“Hang up the phone, doll,” a gruff, menacing voice orders.

Doing what anyone in your position would, you elbow the man in the stomach. Your phone clatters to the ground as Selina’s voice fades beneath the sound of the struggle.

“Bitch,” the man snarls venomously.

He lunges at you, slamming you against a shipping container. The impact makes your head spin, but you swing your fist, landing a punch to his face. As he stumbles, you seize the chance to run—until he yanks you back by your hair.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, doll,” he growls, his voice dripping with malice.

Just as you muster the strength to keep fighting, a heavy thud echoes behind him. A dark figure looms.

“Now, you should know who guards this place by now,” a familiar voice growls.

You freeze, torn between relief and fear. As crazy as it sounds you now don’t know who to be more scared of, the guy or the person you know very well who’s voice that belongs to. And you knew you were in for a long night.

Jason grabs the man by the neck and slams him to the ground with brutal force.

“Scum like you shouldn’t even be alive,” Jason snarls, his fists pounding into the man.

“Red, that’s enough!” you plead. “Come on, he’s not responding.”

When he doesn’t stop, you reach out, resting your hand on his shoulder. He finally halts.

Without a word, Jason walks away, which you took as a cue you should follow. So you walk for like 3 minutes without a word being said. And you had enough of the silence, you have already been walking the whole night.

“Jay, I’m sorry, okay? I saw a little cat, and it was cold and—”

“Injured, yeah, I know. Selina called me. If she hadn’t, who knows what could’ve happened, do you even know you’re in The Hills Y/N?” he snaps, cutting you off.

You glance around, realization dawning. The fog, the docks, the 30 minutes of chasing the cat—you’re in The Hills, one of the most dangerous areas in Gotham. No wonder Selina was worried and why Jason is mad at you right now. Ever since you and Jason started dating, he’s warned you about the areas in Gotham that are red zones for crime—places he didn’t want you near, especially with a war between crime lords raging on. Things weren’t exactly stable, and all he wanted was to keep you safe. He’d always said that losing you would be unbearable—not just because it’s his job to protect, but because he can’t imagine a life without you. Those are words he can’t bring himself to say right now, though; there’s already too much hanging in the air.

“I’m sorry, Jay. I wasn’t thinking I truly didn’t know I was in The Hills ,” you say, guilt weighing on you. You were tired and now just wanted to go home to your shared bed.

Jason sighs, his anger softening as he sensed the feeling of you being overwhelmed with the events of tonight. He wraps his arms around you, and you melt into his embrace and let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s just go home. I just want you safe.”

You look around to scope the scenery and make sure no one is around. You make eye contact with Jason and he already knows what you are asking for as he simply does a small nod in response. Your hands find their way to his mask where you take it off and now see his face with the Domino mask only hiding off the top. And you lean in to give him a quick little kiss. As you pull back from the peck he leans in again wanting more. And who are you to reject this beautiful man?

“Meow.”

You pull away, startled.

“Oh my God, Micho! I knew you’d come back!” you exclaim, scooping up the fluffy black cat.

Jason smirks. “So, you weren’t delusional after all.”

Despite the events of the night , you head home with the love of your life and a new addition to your humble family. As you hop into the back of Jason’s bike with your cat in your bag you realize something.

“Coño, I forgot my phone, Jay.”

☪︎･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂☪︎･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂☪︎･ﾟ･ﾟ·:

A/N: Hi cuties! As always, if you have any requests, let me know—I’ll gladly write them. Hope you enjoyed!

[kkentobox]

› ⠀ . ⠀ 〇⠀ ⠀ ٠ ⠀ ⠀⠀INTRODUCING . . LATINA INFLUENCER!READER

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ —- LATINA INFLUENCER!READER who’s the internet’s new niche mysterious hot girl on twitch. being seen with black clothing all the time. creating a new aesthetic dedicated to being just like her. fashion crazy! carrying her digital camera always. biggest sweetheart. giving advice to her younger viewers, leading her to become a big role model. extroverted, but never loud. has severe brainrot humor. loves to journal! bilingual and often talks in spanish with her audience.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ —- LATINA INFLUENCER!READER who constantly speaks up for her community & her beliefs! being known as a supportive older sister. every post she makes leads to everyone using the new selfies she posted as their profile picture. carries a huge purse filled to the brim with all her ‘necessities’. being adored everywhere!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ —- LATINA INFLUENCER!READER whose viewers are very nosy when it comes to her dating life! flirtatious with anyone online, stirring scandals with big names. always mentioning a boyfriend, but no one being able to connect any dots. one of the big names she’s been caught flirting with online being jschlatt. their only interactions being on twitter and nowhere else.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ —- LATINA INFLUENCER!READER who’s been secretly dating jschlatt for the past year. the two laughing at everyone’s theories of who she’s currently seeing while in bed together. hard-launching their relationship with a video titled; ‘he’s giving me my visa!’ the two being the epitome of underdressed boyfriend and overdressed girlfriend.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀› ⠀ . ⠀ 〇⠀ ⠀ ٠

author’s note: the pictures display a lighter skin tone for latina!reader butttt !!! i do not see her that way, the pictures are simply a vibe! if you are latina and reading this, envision her with whatever skin tone you’d like <3 she is you, you are her >< you know? anyways! i hope you guys like this little moodboard aesthetic!

[phoebastria-albatrus]

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"

[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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[agentstarkid]

THREE POINTS WHERE TWO LINES MEET ✦ DR3

✦ PAIRING: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ CHECKERED FLAG: 10.6K words

✦ TRACK LIMITS: jelousy, fluff, angst, depresh sesh with Danielito.

✦ MAY'S RADIO: TA-DAAA! First fic of 2025 💪🏽 I was dying to get to thissss that I started writing it back in June, way before I even started Revenant 😅 dialogues are my nightmare but I reaaaally tried to add as much as I could so I hope you guys like this! Alsoo, first official Dan-Y/N encounter since their breakup lezzz gooo 😎

Part of The Joker & The Queen series | Set during Revenant.

divider: cafekitsune

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As spring unfolded its tender touch during the second week of May, the gentle breezes and soft sunlight of the Venetian landscape painted the city with a palette of warmth and tranquility. Throughout the day, the sun casted its golden rays upon the city's timeless architecture and labyrinthine canals, infusing every corner with a sense of ethereal beauty.

He could see the people around him, familiar and unfamiliar faces alike as the sun dipped slowly below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the picturesque city as anticipation hung in the air like delicate lace. Chloe and Scotty's wedding weekend was in full swing, with laughter and love weaving through every corner of the estate.

As Daniel stepped into the elegant hall of the hotel where the rehearsals were being held, his heart fluttered with a mix of nerves and anticipation. He knew she was part of Chloe’s bridesmaid entourage—the bride made it known to him every chance she had these past months, as a way to prepare him for that moment? To warn him to behave? All of the above? Who knew; he certainly did not.

It had been so long since he last saw her, and now, with the wedding rehearsals underway, he couldn't shake the feeling of excitement tinged with uncertainty. He scanned the gathering group, hoping to catch a glimpse of her familiar figure among the throng of guests, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“Let's start!” came the voice of the wedding coordinator, breaking through Daniel's thoughts. He shifted nervously, his eyes darting around in search of her, but she remained elusive. “Are we, um, all here?” Daniel asked, his voice betraying a hint of disappointment.

Chloe, having been close enough to hear it, exchanged a knowing glance with Daniel before replying, “Yes, Dan. We're all here.” Her words held a deeper meaning that only he seemed to grasp, and he fell silent, his mind filled with a whirlwind of emotions as she left to take her place at the back of the forming line of bridesmaids and groomsmen where Lance was already waiting for her.

As the rehearsal unfolded, Daniel couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment mingled with a glimmer of hope. She was nowhere to be seen in that room, but there was one groomsman without a partner. Despite the festive atmosphere surrounding him, and as he watched the bridal party practice their steps, his thoughts drifted to her, wondering where she could be now. Daniel couldn't shake the sense of longing that lingered in his heart, a silent ache for the one who was conspicuously absent from the proceedings.

The evening progressed with lots of laughter caused by shared shenanigans—with him being one of the main perpetrators—and tears of sweet affection. He willed his head—and his heart—to shake off all the worries surrounding the mysterious absence of a certain Latina singer. It wasn’t right, he told himself. They were not together; in fact, he was in a happy relationship with a sweet and beautiful girl who helped him go through his calamitous last year as a driver for the team in Wokings. Someone who was waiting for him in their hotel room unaware that his thoughts were riddled with eyes like a kaleidoscope, ever-changing and full of wonder, and an adventurous and kind personality to complement them.

In the hours leading up to the wedding, Daniel found himself surrounded by the groom and his band of groomsmen, their laughter echoing through the luxurious suite where they had gathered. Scotty, the groom-to-be, was the center of attention, his nerves masked by an infectious grin as he basked in the camaraderie of his closest friends.

Amidst the banter and jests about Scotty's impending journey into married life, Daniel couldn't shake the lingering thoughts of her that plagued his mind. As he joined in the laughter and good-natured ribbing, a part of him remained lost in a world of uncertainty, wondering if she would make it to the wedding, if she would grace the occasion with her presence.

As Daniel and Scotty shared a moment away from the hustle and bustle of wedding preparations, Daniel couldn't resist the urge to broach the subject that had been weighing on his mind. With a casual tone masking the underlying curiosity, Daniel sidled up to Scotty, hoping to glean some insight into her absence.

“Hey, man,” Daniel began, trying to keep his voice light as he casually leaned against the nearby railing. “Uh, I noticed Y/N wasn't at the rehearsals earlier. Everything okay with her?”

Scotty glanced at Daniel, a knowing glint in his eye as he caught onto the true reason behind Daniel's inquiry. With a small smirk, he leaned in closer, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Ah, mate, don't worry about her,” Scotty replied, his tone filled with amusement. “She's still Chloe's bridesmaid. She just had some schedule issues, couldn't make it to the rehearsals.”

Daniel's eyebrows lifted in surprise, relief washing over him at the explanation. “Really? That’s it?”

Scotty chuckled, nodding in confirmation. “Yep, that's it. But you know Chloe, she's always got everything under control. When Sparky apologized profusely to her, telling her she had to decline the role, she refused to not have her by her side. So she told her that she shouldn’t worry, she knows that she’s capable of walking in a straight line.”

Daniel couldn't help but laugh at the image of the blonde heiress' straightforward response, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders at the reassurance that there was nothing amiss. With a grateful smile, Daniel thanked Scotty for clearing up the mystery, the tension that had been lingering in his mind dissipating into the warm evening air.

As they rejoined the festivities, a sense of ease settled over him, surprising him. He convinced himself that it didn’t mean anything else but an innocent curiosity. But deep down, he couldn't help but look forward to the possibility of seeing her once more.

As he made his way to the canals where the wooden runabouts awaited to ferry the wedding party to the venue, a flurry of emotions churned within him. The anticipation of the impending ceremony mingled with a sense of apprehension as thoughts of Y/N lingered at the forefront of his mind. He glanced around, the bustling activity of the waterfront doing little to distract him from the turmoil within. He knew he was only moments away from seeing her again.

Thump, thump, thump, his heart quickened its pace in a tumultuous symphony.

Despite his attempts to maintain a composed exterior, subtle signs of his inner turmoil began to betray his true feelings. His fingers fidgeted nervously with the buttons on his camera, betraying the restless energy that coursed through him. It was just the jitters and anticipation in the air, he tried to convince himself.

Despite the thrumming excitement that pulsed through his veins, a subtle undercurrent of anxiety gnawed at his insides. What would she say? How would she react to seeing him after so long? Would she even greet him or just completely ignore his presence? Even though he once was able to read her perfectly, people can change a lot in a year—he was the perfect image for that statement. And he knows his words and actions in the past had hurt her deeply. And if she decided he was not worthy of a tiny bit of her attention, he’d understand. His heart would have to learn to, too.

The wooden runabout cut through the tranquil waters of the Venetian canals, its sleek form gliding effortlessly beneath the warm Mediterranean sun. Daniel sat among the groomsmen, the camaraderie of the group, the laughter and banter, provided a welcome distraction from the nervous anticipation that pulsed through him.

As the boat rounded a bend in the canal, the wedding venue came into view, its elegant façade bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. A surge of adrenaline coursed through Daniel's veins as they drew nearer, the realization that the moment he had been waiting for was finally at hand.

With each passing moment, the anticipation grew, the air crackling with energy as they approached the dock. As the runabout slowed to a stop, Daniel's heart raced with excitement, his gaze fixed on the venue ahead. Just a few more minutes.

As he scanned the crowd, he could see guests lined the pier, from the bride and groom's families to friends, all gathered to celebrate the love and union of Scotty and Chloe. 

Then, amidst the gentle lapping of the water against the wooden dock, another sleek runabout emerged on the horizon. Its silhouette glided gracefully through the shimmering waters, its occupants a vision of elegance and grace. Daniel's breath caught in his throat as he watched the bridesmaid runabout draw nearer, his pulse quickening with each passing moment.

And then, as the runabout neared the dock and came into full view, Daniel's gaze locked onto her. She stood at the bow of the boat, her figure illuminated by the soft afternoon light, a vision of beauty that took his breath away. Her long, flowing taupe dress cascaded elegantly down her back, the neckline dipped modestly drawing the eye to the décolletage while hinting at a subtle allure that captivated him instantly.

As she stepped onto the dock, her eyes met his, a fleeting moment of connection that sent a surge of electricity coursing through him. In that instant, everything else faded away—the bustling crowd, the scenic backdrop of Venice—and all that mattered was the magnetic pull between them, drawing them inexorably closer with each passing heartbeat.

Daniel felt a rush of emotions wash over him as he drank in the sight of her, her presence stirring something deep within his soul. Despite the passing time and the distance that had separated them, the connection between them remained palpable, a silent reminder of the bond they shared.

The breeze gently tousled her hair, framing her face with an ethereal glow. As she approached with the rest of the bridesmaids, for a fleeting moment, he dared to hope that she was coming to speak to him, that they would have a chance to exchange words amidst the bustling crowd.

As she drew closer, Daniel's pulse quickened with anticipation, his eyes fixed on her with a mixture of longing and apprehension. He could feel the weight of their shared history hanging in the air, the memories of their past flooding his mind with a bittersweet intensity.

But as she reached him, her gaze met his once more with a polite smile and a tiny nod of her head in acknowledgment. Daniel's heart sank with disappointment as he realized that she was simply acknowledging his presence, nothing more. There was no lingering glance, no hint of the connection that once bound them together.

With a heavy heart, he watched as she walked past him, he could see her greeting her partner with a bright smile and a cheerful hello, arm in arm as they made their way to their designated places.

And yet, despite the ache of longing that lingered within him, Daniel couldn't help but admire the grace and poise with which she carried herself. She was a vision of elegance and beauty, her presence commanding attention even as she moved past him with quiet determination.

Once the wedding ceremony commenced, Daniel found himself swept up in a whirlwind of emotions, his eyes fixated on the breathtaking scene unfolding before him. The Italian vineyard-turned-venue was adorned with a constellation of white floral arrangements and greenery, creating an atmosphere of romance and enchantment that seemed to permeate the air.

His attention was drawn to the front of the venue as the bridal procession began, and his heart skipped a beat as he caught sight of Y/N walking down the aisle with one of the groomsmen by her side. She was radiant, her beauty illuminated by the natural light bathing the place. 

Once they reached the end of the aisle, everyone took a seat at the front. He was seated on the third row, giving him the perfect view of the Latin artist who was sitting on the second row at his right. As the ceremony progressed, the vows were exchanged and the couple pledged their love to one another, while Daniel found himself lost in a sea of conflicting emotions. Despite his best efforts to focus on the proceedings unfolding before him, his attention was drawn inexorably to her, his eyes tracing her every movement with an intensity he couldn't quite explain. He knew he was being selfish and stupid, he knew his girlfriend was right behind him, but his brain was too in sync with his heart at the moment to care.

She didn’t look at him once.

His heart longed for just one glance, one opportunity to feel her gaze on him, but her eyes stayed glued to the couple. Teary-eyed and soft, and her smile… 

My God, her smile.  

Her smile had a way of lighting up her entire face. There was something infectious about the way her lips curved upwards, something that made it impossible not to smile in return.

At one point during the ceremony, Daniel glanced over his shoulder to see Blake watching him from the back row, sitting next to the Austrian-Portuguese actress, a knowing and disapproving look in his eyes. Daniel's heart skipped a beat as he realized that Blake had noticed his behavior, his thoughts laid bare for all to see. 

It was clear to Blake that his friend's feelings for Y/N ran deep, despite the passage of time and the heartache that had ensued. As he sat next to Heidi, Daniel's current girlfriend, Blake couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the girl. He could see the way her eyes flickered with uncertainty as she observed Daniel's glances directed at Y/N, a silent witness to the undeniable affection that still lingered.

Despite his loyalty to his friend, Blake couldn't ignore the underlying sense of guilt that gnawed at him. He knew that Heidi deserved better than to be caught in the crossfire of Daniel's unresolved feelings for Y/N. And as he watched the scene unfold before him, Blake couldn't help but feel a sense of sorrow for all those involved.

After the newlyweds sealed their union with a tender kiss and walked down the aisle to the cheers and applause from those in attendance, he made his way to the pier accompanied by Blake and Heidi, a pang of guilt tugged at his heart as he observed their easy camaraderie, the warmth of their interaction highlighting the contrast to the unsettled feelings brewing within him. Even as he engaged in small talk, his heart wasn’t in it.

As they boarded the wooden runabout, Daniel's conflicting emotions threatened to consume him. On one hand, there was the comfort and easiness of his relationship with Heidi, the stability she offered amidst the chaos of his fast-paced life. Yet, on the other hand, there was the lingering memory of Y/N, her presence haunting him like a ghost from the past. Deep down, he couldn't shake the gnawing sense of longing that tugged at his heart, a silent plea for resolution amidst the tempestuous sea of emotions that threatened to engulf him.

He would approach her at the party and he’d ask her how she's been, he decided. Another wave of thoughts crashed into his head. Did she come alone? If she didn’t, did she come with a friend or a date? Sure, he knows about her new relationship. Richard? Rafael? Raúl? Whatever his name was, she looked happy.

As the yacht filled with the star-studded guest list, Chloe & Scotty’s Italian Market Fiesta basked in the last rays of the setting sun. Daniel, now in an emerald-colored suit with a floral shirt underneath, boarded the luxurious vessel with Heidi’s hand clasped in his. After being throughoutly lectured by Blake, which included a very serious “you need to get a grip, mate”, he willed himself to enjoy the party and focus on his girlfriend, who by the way looked stunning in a long dark blue dress with a straight-across neckline.

But, as if being mocked by fate, she appeared. Daniel's breath caught in his throat as he watched Y/N make her way onto the deck, her figure bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. Apparently, he wasn’t alone in his idea of a quick outfit change. If she looked breathtakingly beautiful before, she looked intoxicatingly divine with her majestic blue, backless halter dress clinging to her curves in all the right places.

But Daniel's heart sank as he realized that she wasn't alone. Beside her stood another figure, tall and imposing, his presence commanding attention even from a distance. Though Daniel couldn't see his face clearly, there was something about the way the brown-haired man carried himself that spoke of strength and confidence.

As Y/N and her companion made their way inside the yacht, Daniel couldn't tear his gaze away. He felt a pang of jealousy gnaw at him. And yet, despite the ache in his heart, he couldn't help but admire the way she looked, the way she moved or the way she seemed to light up when the brunette whispered in her ear.

Despite his best efforts to push down the rising tide of jealousy and longing, Daniel couldn't help but feel a pang of regret with each stolen glance at the pair. He watched as they danced together, shared kisses and what struck him harder was the way she looked at him. He’s seen that look in her eyes before—Hell, he was the reflection on those bright eyes once. 

“Hey, isn't that Rúben Dias over there?” Heidi wondered aloud, making their little group turn and glance in the direction of the singer and her companion, “He’s a Portuguese footballer, he plays on the national team.” she explained once she saw one of their friends’ questioning gaze.

“Oh yeah, that's him! He's a beast on the field, one of the best defenders out there.” added excitedly Sean, Scotty’s younger brother. 

“Yeah, he's been killing it for Manchester City lately. Solid player. Considered one of the best defenders in the world, actually.” one of the group chimed in.

“Y/N seems like she has a thing for #3 athletes, doesn't she?” Another one jested making the group chuckle as they eyed Daniel waiting for his reaction, but he could only offer them a fake smile.

“Hey, can't blame her! I’ve met Rúben before, he is a class act on and off the field.” his girlfriend spoke up in their defense.

As Blake observed Daniel's reserved demeanor amidst the lively chatter of their friends, a pang of empathy tugged at his heart. He could sense the maelstrom brewing beneath the surface of Daniel's quiet façade, the storm of emotions raging within him as he listened to their friends discuss Y/N and her new boyfriend.

Despite Daniel's best efforts to conceal his feelings, Blake could see the turmoil etched into the lines of his friend's face—the subtle tensing of his jaw, the distant look in his eyes. It was instantly clear to Blake that Daniel was grappling with a whirlwind of emotions, torn between his lingering feelings for Y/N and the painful reality of her newfound happiness with someone else.

 “Seriously, she has good taste.”  declared one of their mates’ girlfriends.

Daniel listened intently as his friends continued to sing Rúben's praises, absorbing every detail about the man who had captured Y/N's attention.

The long-haired blonde turned to him suddenly, “Daniel, have you met him before?”

His eyes widened a little, clearly caught off guard “No, uh—” he cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the lump that had suddenly found its way there. “I haven't had the pleasure.”

“Well, he seems like a great guy. She looks really happy with him.” Blake, ever the diplomat, tried to end the topic for his friends’ sakes.

“Yeah, she does. They make a cute couple.”

“Definitely. You can tell there's something special between them.”

And they kept going. Some people just couldn’t grasp subtle cues it seems.

“And did you see the way she looks at him? It's like she's looking at her whole world.”

He needed to remove himself from this conversation, and he needed to do it fast. It won't be long until he could not fake the unbothered façade anymore.

He leaned toward Heidi to tell her he was heading to grab a drink. For a moment, she just stared at him, her eyes searching his face like she could see the turmoil he was trying so hard to hide. He worried she actually could. Something flickered in her expression—hesitation, or maybe quiet understanding—but it was gone as quickly as it came. She offered him a small smile and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips, whispering a small okay. So he excused himself to the group and made his way to the open bar.

Daniel stood near the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey that was more for appearances than comfort. He couldn’t seem to focus on the conversations swirling around him, his gaze consistently drifting toward the far side of the room. There she was—Y/N L/N, his Chip, though she hadn’t been his for over a year. She glided across the room with the same effortless grace she always had, only now her hand was looped securely through the arm of Rúben Dias.

He clenched his jaw as he watched them laugh together, her eyes sparkling in the soft light. It wasn’t fair. How could she still have this effect on him? Worse, how could she look so at ease, so radiant, when his chest felt like it was being crushed by the weight of her absence?

“Bro, what the hell are you doing?” Blake’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. Daniel turned to find his best friend giving him a pointed look.

“What d’you mean?” Daniel replied, feigning ignorance as he took a sip of his drink.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Blake shot back, crossing his arms. “You’ve been staring at her all night. Do you think Heidi hasn’t noticed? Because she has.”

Daniel winced, glancing over to where Heidi was engaged in conversation with their group of friends. She hadn’t said anything, but he knew Blake was right. He wasn’t exactly being subtle.

Blake stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Look, I get it, man. Seeing her with someone else—it’s brutal. And I told you this already, but you need to pull yourself together. Either go talk to her or let it go, because this… whatever this is—it’s not fair to anyone, least of all yourself.”

Daniel ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “What am I supposed to say to her, man? ‘Sorry I broke your heart, but I’m still not over you’? That I hate seeing her with him even though she deserves to be happy? What good would that do?”

Blake sighed, his expression softening. “I’m not saying it’s easy. But sitting here stewing in your jealousy isn’t helping either. If you want to move on, you have to face her. Otherwise, you’ll just keep torturing yourself—and dragging everyone else down with you.”

But what if he didn’t want to move on from her?

Daniel looked back across the room, his heart twisting as Y/N leaned into Rúben’s side, her smile wide and genuine. Blake was right, of course. He always was. But knowing what to do and having the courage to do it were two very different things.

For now, all Daniel could do was watch and wonder if he’d ever get the chance to tell her the truth—that losing her was the biggest mistake of his life.

Daniel exhaled shakily, his grip tightening on his glass. Blake had walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts, but the pep talk only added fuel to the fire of emotions raging within him. He knew he didn’t deserve Y/N’s forgiveness, much less a sliver of her attention, not after everything he’d done. But seeing her here, in person, for the first time in over a year—alive and glowing in a way that made his heart ache—was undoing him.

He thought he’d buried these feelings, shoved them deep down where they couldn’t hurt him anymore. But now they were surging back like a tidal wave, crashing into him with a force that left him feeling dizzy and as though a boulder was sitting on his chest. Every laugh she shared with Rúben, every gentle touch between them, felt like another twist of the knife.

She hadn’t so much as glanced at him all night, her gaze firmly fixed on the footballer, as though he were the center of her universe. And maybe he was now. The way she looked at the Portuguese man—it was devastating. It wasn’t just admiration; it was awe, reverence, the kind she reserved for things that truly moved her.

Daniel had seen that look before—back when she’d gazed at him with the same adoration, back when she believed in him, in them. Now, it was directed at someone else, and it felt like losing her all over again. He thought about how she used to light up when talking about her favorite museum pieces, those marble statues she loved so much. She’d tell him their stories with wide eyes, her voice animated with wonder, like they were alive to her. That was how she looked at Rúben now.

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. He was angry at himself. Angry that he’d let her slip through his fingers. Angry that he hadn’t been the man she needed when it mattered most.

But he was trying.

Since that disastrous day in Bahrain when everything fell apart, Daniel had been putting in the work. Therapy sessions every week, cutting ties with the people who only dragged him down, facing parts of himself he’d been too scared to confront before. He didn’t do it for anyone else. No, deep down, he knew the truth. He was doing it for her.

He never admitted it out loud, not even to Blake. The idea was locked away deep inside him, buried under layers of denial and self-preservation. But it was there, a quiet, stubborn hope he carried in his heart. He wanted to be worthy of her—for real this time. Maybe, just maybe, if he could get himself together, he could be the man she deserved.

His reasons were fucked up, he was aware of it. He was being a right asshole to Heidi and she didn’t deserve it. But as much as he tried—and God knows he did—he couldn’t, wouldn’t, imagine a lifetime with her, not the way he did a relationship ago. Heidi deserved more, so much more than he could ever give her. She deserved something extraordinary, something life-changing, and all he had to offer was something half-hearted and incomplete.

She deserved more than being a placeholder for someone he could never forget. He hated himself for it, for dragging her into this mess and making her believe there could be more when deep down, he knew there wasn’t.

And Y/N… God, Y/N. She deserved the world, and he’d failed her in every way that mattered. She deserves someone who could keep their promises, someone who wouldn’t falter when things got hard. Someone who could meet her where she was, with all her brilliance and light, and not let her down. He hadn’t been that person—not then, and not now.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be. But the persistent, selfish part of him, refused to give up. For her, he’d keep trying. He’d work on himself to the end of time if it meant even the slightest chance of being worthy of her one day.

He knew it might never be enough. She might never look at him again the way she once did. But if there was even the smallest chance, he would take it. Because she was the one thing in his life that had ever truly made sense, and if there was one thing he could promise himself, it was that he would never stop trying to be the man she deserved—even if it took him forever.

His mind drifted to the thought about the promises he’d made to her, the dreams they’d shared. The ring he’d once hinted at, the home they’d talked about, the life they’d planned together. Cradles, forever, love. He’d imagined it all with her. And then he’d ruined it.

Daniel’s chest tightened at the memory of her tears that day in Bahrain, the anguish in her voice as she asked him why she wasn’t enough. He’d replayed it a thousand times, haunted by the knowledge that he was the one who’d broken her.

He hadn’t seen her since—until now. And seeing her again, radiant and happy in the arms of another man, made him realize just how much he still loved her.

But what could he do? What right did he have to interfere in her happiness? She deserves someone who could give her everything she wanted, someone who wouldn’t let her down.

And yet, the thought of her looking at Rúben the way she used to look at him—like he was her world—was unbearable.

On the other side of the room, the sound of Y/N’s laughter floated above the hum of conversations and the soft clinking of glasses. Seated beside Rúben, she looked every bit the picture of ease and joy, her eyes alight as she listened to him recount a story from Man City’s dressing room.

“It was Jack, of course,” Rúben said, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned slightly closer to her. “Who else would grab the wrong tub of protein powder and not realize it until it was all over his hair?”

“No,” she gasped, her laugh spilling out before she could even stop herself with her hand lightly touching his arm as she wiped at the corner of her eye. “Please tell me someone got it on video.”

“They did,” Rúben said with a nod, his own chuckle rumbling low and warm. “But Jack’s sworn revenge on anyone who tries to leak it, so for now, it’s staying in the group chat.”

She shook her head, the laughter still bubbling in her chest. “I’m actually curious to hear what his payback will be.”

The two shared a grin, completely engrossed in the lighthearted conversation. Y/N’s cheeks were flushed from laughter, her posture relaxed in a way that suggested she was finally letting herself enjoy the evening.

Just as she reached for her glass of wine, a woman in a sleek black dress approached the table, her presence calm but purposeful. “Excuse me, Miss Y/N?” the woman said politely.

The Latina artist turned to her with an easy smile, the warmth of the moment still lingering on her face. “Yes?”

“The bride and groom are about to begin their first dance,” the woman said, clearly part of the wedding staff, her tone soft but clear. “Mrs. James asked me to let you know it’s time.”

For a moment, her breath hitched, the weight of the request settling over her. A month ago, Chloe had asked her to sing during their first dance—a deeply personal and intimate request that she had accepted after much persuasion from the Canadian heiress. She didn’t think she was worthy of that honor but when Chloe set her mind onto something, she always gets what she wants. So she'd spent hours preparing, carefully choosing the song and rehearsing until every note felt perfect. But now, with the moment upon her, nerves pricked at the edges of her confidence.

Her eyes darted across the room instinctively, landing for just a second on a curly-haired man. Daniel was leaning against the bar, drink in hand, his profile sharp under the dim light. She caught the faintest hint of a furrow between his brows, a trace of something unreadable in his expression. For a fleeting second, she wondered if he knew she was about to perform—if he’d even care. But she quickly dismissed the silly thought, quickly pulling her gaze away before their eyes could meet.

She glanced at Rúben, her nerves briefly flickering across her face. He noticed immediately, leaning in closer with a small, reassuring smile that sent a wave of warmth through her. “Hey,” he said softly, tilting his head to catch her gaze. “You’ll be amazing, anjo” he said simply, his voice steady and calm.

The sincerity in his tone steadied her, and she gave him a grateful smile before leaning in to kiss him. His hand, which had rested lightly on her face earlier, moved to the back of her head, his fingers tangling gently in her hair as he let out a soft sigh. Before she broke the kiss, she caught his bottom lip between her teeth, teasingly soft but enough to draw a low sound from his throat that sent a shiver through her.

When she pulled back, his gaze was dark with warmth, a look that said he couldn’t get enough of her. He chuckled lowly, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip. “You are trouble,” he whispered, his voice laced with affection and something else that excited her.

A cheeky smile tugged at her lips as she kissed his thumb lightly. “Go,” he said, his grin widening as he motioned toward the piano on the side of the dance floor. “You’ve got this.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice quiet but full of meaning, before standing, smoothing the fabric of her dress and turning to head toward the dance floor, her nerves replaced with a gentle hum of excitement.

Her heart thudded in her chest, but there was a warmth that spread through her, all thanks to his words and that quiet, lingering kiss. 

She reached the piano placed on a corner where Chloe and Scotty were already standing, smiling up at her. Chloe’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and Scotty’s grin was wide and proud. The married couple greeted her warmly, their smiles wide with appreciation. They spoke to her for a moment, sharing how much it meant to them that she was there, their words full of gratitude. She could see how happy they were, how much they truly loved each other, and it made her heart swell.

She quickly hugged them both and before she made her way toward the piano, Chloe gave her hand a light squeeze and a smile. Oh, she could feel the tears on her water line. ¡Ay, no! she was getting emotional and she hasn’t even sung yet. She gave her best friend a warm smile and her hand a squeeze back before she took her place in front of the black and white keys.

The room grew a little quieter as the master of ceremony’s voice filled the air, announcing the couple’s first dance. The lights above the dance floor softened, dimming the atmosphere just enough to create a magical glow, drawing everyone’s attention to the center.

With a steadying breath, her fingers gently brushed the first notes of the song. The melody started slow and soft, cascading through the room like a gentle wave, its rhythm weaving seamlessly with the heartfelt atmosphere surrounding her.

The song began to fill the space, and the newlyweds took their place on the dance floor, their eyes locked in a moment of pure joy as they held each other close. 

As her voice joined the piano’s melody, the room seemed to hold its breath, captivated by the raw beauty of her performance. The happy couple moved in sync to the music, their steps gentle and unhurried, their smiles radiant as they swayed together under the soft glow of the lights.

She had written this song once upon a time with someone else in mind—a love that had been everything to her until it wasn’t.

The memories tugged at her heart as she sang, but she didn’t let them overwhelm her. Tonight wasn’t about the past. It was about Chloe and Scotty, about celebrating their love and giving them something beautiful to hold onto forever. Still, the meaning behind the lyrics—so raw, so honest—flowed through her as if they had been written for this exact moment.

The bride and groom danced gracefully in the soft glow of the lights, completely lost in each other. Chloe rested her head on her husband's shoulder, her eyes closed as if savoring every word and every note. The Aussie held her close, his hand gently stroking her back in time with the rhythm, his smile soft but radiant.

Y/N’s gaze flickered over the scene, and a bittersweet ache settled in her chest. This song had meant something entirely different when she wrote it, but now, seeing it through a new lens, it felt reborn. It was no longer a relic of what she’d lost but a gift of love she could give to two people who truly deserved it.

How long will I love you?

As long as stars are above you

And longer if I can

Her voice carried the weight of the lyrics, a vulnerability woven into every word.

Her eyes betrayed her resolve as they scanned the crowd, searching for something—someone. And then she found him. Daniel’s brown eyes were fixed firmly on her, his face unreadable except for the unmistakable depth of emotion etched into his features. He looked like a man in agony. Like a man who had just realized that every note, every lyric, was meant for him.

How long will I need you?

As long as the seasons need to

follow their plan

When their eyes met, she swore she saw him exhale deeply, his shoulders sagging just slightly as if a long-held breath had finally escaped. The intensity in his gaze burned into her, and for a fleeting second, the room seemed to dissolve around them. But the moment was too raw, too overwhelming. She quickly broke the eye contact, her throat tightening as she focused back on the married couple swaying on the dance floor.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her emotions threatening to spill over as she fought to keep her composure. A few tears slipped down her cheeks, and she desperately tried to stabilize her breathing, silently praying no one noticed. If they did, she hoped they’d assume her tears were for Chloe and Scotty—a friend overcome with joy for the couple. But she knew better. The bittersweet melancholy spreading through her veins wasn’t for them.

For a moment, as her fingers danced over the keys, her mind betrayed her completely. She allowed herself to imagine this moment as hers. She saw herself as the bride, the glow of love and devotion surrounding her. But when her mind filled in the groom’s face, it wasn’t Rúben who smiled back at her. It was Daniel. Those deep brown eyes, a smile so wide it revealed his dimples, the well-trimmed beard framing his face, and that unmistakable roman nose. The vision was so vivid that it nearly stopped her hands mid-song.

How long will I be with you?

As long as the sea is bound to 

wash upon the sand

A wave of guilt crashed over her, snapping her back to reality. She cast a glance toward her table, where Rúben sat watching her with a soft smile. When their eyes met, he mouthed a quiet “I love you,” his expression so genuine it made her chest ache. The guilt spread like wildfire, consuming her. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve a partner whose heart faltered at the sight of someone else.

The piano’s final notes lingered in the air as her voice softened into a delicate whisper for the last line:

"How long will I love you? As long as stars are above you, and longer if I may."

The soft notes of a new melody began to drift through the room. When the singer had sent a selection of songs—some released, others still unreleased—to the couple, Chloe had secretly asked her if she could add a little bit of the song to the first one, as a surprise to her fiancé. In the end, she created a mash-up, blending two of her most personal pieces into one seamless arrangement. The couple had loved it instantly, but not before hesitating and gently asking if she was absolutely sure about sharing these songs. They knew their significance, understood who they were meant for. Both songs were deeply personal, ones she had kept tucked away, hidden from the world and guarded within her heart.

'Cause I walked down the aisle

When I first walked up to you

When you asked me out

That's when I said, I do

The preacher will say we're starting a new life

But I took your hand when you first held mine

'Cause it's always been you

And I've always been your wife.

As the final notes of the song faded, she let her hands linger on the keys for a moment, the applause erupting around her almost feeling distant. She rose from the piano bench slowly, her cheeks wet and her heart heavy. Offering a small smile to the bride and the groom, who turned to her with tears in their eyes. Chloe mouthed a heartfelt “Thank you,” while Scotty gave her an appreciative nod and a wink, his arm never leaving his wife’s waist. 

She moved back to her seat beside Rúben, his warm hand immediately finding hers. He gave her a gentle squeeze, his smile unshaken, his love unwavering. He pulled her into a gentle embrace. “You were amazing,” he murmured against her temple, his voice low and filled with genuine admiration. 

She leaned into his touch, her stomach twisting as the weight of her emotions bore down on her. Tonight wasn’t the time for self-reflection, nor for the ghosts of her past to take hold. But as much as she tried, she couldn’t shake the image of brown eyes staring back at her, seeing everything she’d tried so hard to hide.

Daniel didn’t notice the room or the people around him anymore. The moment the first notes of the song began to play, something shifted in him. His chest felt tight, a knot forming in his throat as Y/N’s voice softened, her words taking on a hauntingly familiar tone. He knew this song—no, not because he’d heard it before, but because it was his. It was them.

He swallowed hard, his gaze locking on her as her fingers glided over the piano keys, her voice laced with raw emotion. Every lyric carried a memory, a feeling, a truth that only they shared. He wasn’t sure if anyone else could tell, but he could. He knew.

It hit him all at once: Perth. The ranch. The quiet, unpolluted nights during quarantine when the world outside seemed to stop, and it was just the two of them. A memory unfolded in his mind, vivid and unshakable.

They had been lying on a blanket she insisted they take outside, the cool grass underneath and the vast, star-filled sky above. The ranch had never felt so peaceful. It was early in their relationship, just a few months in, and everything still felt new and exciting, but there was a comfort in being with her that made him feel like he’d known her for years.

“Isn’t it incredible?” she’d whispered, her voice barely louder than the rustle of the breeze. “You don’t get skies like this everywhere. The stars feel... closer here.”

He turned his head to look at her, her features softly illuminated by the moonlight. “Yeah,” he murmured, but he wasn’t looking at the stars.

She laughed softly, catching him staring. “You’re supposed to be looking up, Ricciardo, not at me.”

“I am looking at the stars,” he teased, earning a playful nudge to his side.

For a while, they lay in comfortable silence, the kind that only existed between people who didn’t need to fill the quiet with words. But then she spoke again, her voice thoughtful.

“Do you ever think about how long things last? Like... how long the stars have been here, and how they’ll probably still be here long after we’re gone.”

“Deep thoughts for a Tuesday night,” he joked, but his smile softened when he saw the wistful look in her eyes.

“I just mean... it’s kind of comforting, don’t you think? Knowing something can last that long? Like, how long will I love you?” she asked, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

Her words unexpectedly tugged at something in his chest. This was the first time those three words were being said. He couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face as he answered softly, “As long as the stars are above you.”

Her eyes met his, glimmering with something he couldn’t quite place but knew he’d never forget. “And longer if I may,” she finished, her voice barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions. A soft smile tugged at her lips, but her eyes told a different story—wide and vulnerable, like she had just handed him her heart and was bracing for what he would do with it.

Daniel's breath hitched, the words hanging in the air between them like a fragile thread. He felt his chest tighten, his pulse quicken, as if the entire world had narrowed down to this single moment under the stars.

Her lips parted as though she might say more, but she didn’t. Instead, the silence stretched, charged and electric, like the split-second before a thunderstorm breaks.

And then, slowly, almost shyly, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. The contact was soft but grounding, anchoring him to the earth while his mind reeled.

He let out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his arm instinctively wrapping around her to pull her closer. The words echoed in his head—I may love you longer than the stars. He didn’t say them aloud, but he didn’t need to. The way he pressed his lips to her hair, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary, said it all.

It was the first time she’d told him she loved him, and it wasn’t in those exact words, but Daniel knew it all the same. The stars above bore witness, and he swore he’d never forget the way his heart felt like it was bursting in that moment—full, terrified, and absolutely certain.

The memory faded, but the ache it left behind remained. Daniel blinked, his gaze fixed on her as she sang. Those words, her words, were woven into the song she was performing now. He felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. 

She’d written these songs for him, about him. And now, she was sharing them with a room full of people. But as her eyes briefly met his, before darting away, he knew she wasn’t singing for them. She was singing for the man she used to believe in, the man he used to be, the man she loved.

He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. He didn’t deserve to feel the things he was feeling—not the longing, not the regret, not the faint glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, she still remembered too. But it didn’t stop him from feeling them anyway.

The soft hum of the party lingered in the background—the murmur of conversations, laughter, and the loud music blending with the faint lapping of water against the yacht. Daniel stood at the edge of the deck, his eyes scanning the scene until they landed on her. Y/N was leaning against the railing, a glass of champagne loosely held in her hand, her gaze lost in the moonlit waves. She looked ethereal, like she belonged to the stars above rather than the world below.

He hesitated, nerves buzzing in his chest. But something pulled him forward—a force stronger than his doubts or the fear of rejection. He couldn’t let the night end without saying something.

“Hey,” he called out softly, his voice cutting through the quiet between them.

She turned her head, startled, her brows lifting in surprise before her expression softened into something unreadable. “Hi.”

He stepped closer, careful not to invade her space, but close enough that her perfume—a familiar scent that made his chest tighten—wafted toward him. “You were incredible tonight,” he said, his tone genuine. “Your performance… It was—” He paused, searching for the right word. “Beautiful.”

Her lips curved into a polite smile, but her eyes didn’t quite meet his. “Thank you.”

Daniel’s hand gripped the railing beside him as he leaned slightly forward, lowering his voice. “Those songs...I-I understood.”

That got her attention. Her head snapped toward him, her eyes wide for a split second before narrowing slightly, guarded. Then, to his surprise, she let out a soft, defeated laugh, shaking her head as she looked away.

“I figured you would,” she said quietly, her voice steady but tinged with a faint melancholy. “You always did pay attention to the details, even when I thought you weren’t.”

He let out a soft chuckle, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Guess I still remember a thing or two.”

That earned him a glance—a fleeting one—but her lips tugged into a faint smile. “Well, they were for Chloe and Scotty tonight. That’s what matters.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “They were beautiful. Your voice, the lyrics—it’s all... breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, finally turning to face him. The soft glow of the party lights danced in her eyes, but there was a guardedness there, a layer of glass between them he knew he had placed.

They stood in silence for a beat, the sound of music and laughter in the distance filling the gap.

“I’m glad you’re doing well,” he said eventually, his tone warm, genuine. “You deserve it. All of it.”

Y/N inhaled deeply, her gaze dropping for a moment before she lifted it back to his. “I could say the same to you,” she replied, her voice softer now. “It’s... nice to see you in a good place.”

Daniel offered a small smile. “Took some time. Still working on it, you know?”

She nodded. “Aren’t we all?” A moment later she continued, her voice softer now, “We’re not who we used to be.”

Daniel wanted to let her know that he had changed but the words stayed trapped in his throat. Instead, he stayed silent, letting her have the last word.

Finally, she straightened, offering him a more relaxed smile.

“I should get back to the party,” she said, tilting her head toward the music before adding with a faint, almost playful smile, “Y’know, find Rúben before he thinks I fell overboard or something.”

Daniel let out a quiet chuckle, though the mention of her boyfriend stung more than he cared to admit. “Wouldn’t want that. He seems like a good guy.”

“He is,” she said, her tone soft but firm, and for a moment, her smile faltered. “He really is.”

The way her voice carried both affection and something unspoken made Daniel’s chest tighten. He nodded, forcing himself to keep his expression neutral. “Then you better not keep him waiting.”

“I won’t,” she said, her gaze lingering on him for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. “It was... good to see you, Daniel.”

“You too, Y/N,” he replied, his voice quieter now.

With that, she turned and walked back toward the party, her heels clicking softly against the deck. Daniel stood frozen for a moment, the sound of the ocean beneath them mingling with the distant hum of celebration. A part of him wished he could follow her, say more, but another part knew this was all he deserved for now.

Daniel was leaning back in his seat, an untouched drink in his hand, his camera hanging from his shoulders. Heidi was perched on his lap, her arm looped around his neck, and Blake was beside him, sipping his drink with a relaxed grin.

Scotty approached them, his cheeks flushed with the telltale signs of celebration. “What a night, huh?” he said with a wide grin, his steps only slightly uneven. “Thought I’d come see how my mates are holding up.”

Blake laughed, raising his glass. “Still alive and kicking.”

“Mate,” Scotty slurred, pointing at Daniel with an exaggerated wave of his hand, “you’re sitting there like a goddamn statue. What’s the matter? Too cool to dance now?”

Daniel managed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Just taking a breather, mate. You’ve been going non-stop.”

“That’s what weddings are for!” Scotty exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. His loud proclamation turned a few heads, but he didn’t seem to care.

Chloe joined them moments later, her beaded dress catching the light as she looped an arm around Scotty’s shoulder. Her eyes sparkled with warmth as she took in the group. “Everyone surviving?” she asked with a teasing smile. “Because you all better be ready for round two on the dance floor soon.”

“Haven’t had this much fun in ages,” Blake replied, nudging Daniel’s arm. “This guy’s just taking a little break, saving his energy.”

Chloe nodded approvingly, her grin widening. “Smart move. You don’t want to miss the chaos we’re about to cause.” She turned to Heidi, her tone playful. “You keeping him out of trouble?”

Heidi laughed softly, leaning into Daniel. “Always.”

As they chatted, the mood remained light, full of camaraderie and joy. The faint hum of music and laughter surrounded them, and it was clear that, even in their tipsy states, Scotty and Chloe were mindful of the moment, focusing on the happiness of the night and the people they cared about.

Amidst the lively chatter, Y/N and Rúben passed by, hand in hand as they headed toward the open deck. Chloe’s eyes lit up when she spotted her best friend. “Sparky!” she called, her voice warm and enthusiastic. She stumbled slightly as she let go of Scotty to grab Y/N’s arm to pull her closer.

“Chlo!” Y/N exclaimed, laughing as she steadied her friend. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Just enough to make me happy,” Chloe quipped, her cheeks rosy and her grin wide.

“Having a good time?”

“The best,” Chloe replied, her grin wide. “You’re not getting away just yet. Come, sit for a moment.” She gestured to the empty seats near them.

Rúben followed, a patient smile on his face, but when Chloe grabbed his arm too, dragging him along, he chuckled and let himself be pulled by the bride.

“Look who I found!” She announced triumphantly as if the singer and footballer were a prized discovery.

Daniel’s eyes flickered toward them, his expression carefully composed, though there was an unmistakable tension in his shoulders. He nodded at Y/N and gave a polite smile to Rúben. “Hey,” he said simply.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, her voice even, though her eyes briefly darted toward Heidi, still comfortably seated on Daniel’s lap.

Blake’s face lit up. “Sparkyyyy,” it was clear that he was enjoying the open bar because he shouted with excitement. “It’s been ages! How have you been?”

“I’m good,” she replied warmly, giving him a hug. “It’s nice to see you again, Blakey Blake.” she mumbled into his shoulder, his arms tighten around her frame for a second. “How have you been?”

“Busy, as always,” Blake replied with a chuckle, throwing a teasing glare at Daniel. “But you know how it is.”

“I do,” she replied with a light chuckle.

“Rúben, is it?” The short-haired Aussie extended a hand to her boyfriend, who nodded and shook it firmly, “Blake.” he introduced himself.

“Pleasure to meet you, Blake.” he replied, leaning into her again. “And Heidi, right?” Rúben said with his trademark charm.

“Yes,” she replied, her smile softening slightly. “We’ve crossed paths before, haven’t we? A couple of events in Lisbon?”

Rúben nodded, a small smile on his lips. “That’s right. It’s good to see you again.”

Heidi returned the smile, though there was a hint of caution in her eyes as they flicked briefly to Y/N. “Likewise.”

Y/N, ever composed, stepped in with ease. “Heidi, it’s wonderful to meet you properly. You look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Thank you,” the blonde replied, her tone polite. “You look beautiful as well. It’s no surprise everyone’s still talking about your performance earlier.”

She gave a modest smile—those countless hours of PR classes did come in handy sometimes. “That’s very kind of you to say. It was truly an honor to be part of such a special night for these two.” She grinned, jerking her thumb towards the couple.

Chloe, a little tipsy but ever attuned to the nuances around her, joined the conversation with a light laugh. “Y/N’s being modest. She’s a force of nature. The honor was ours actually”

“Chloe,” She said with a gentle, reproachful tone, though her smile softened the words. “You’re too kind.”

“Not at all!” Chloe insisted, her words slightly slurred but earnest. Her gaze flickered briefly between both women, sensing the subtle tension. Inwardly, she chastised herself for her tipsiness, hoping she wasn’t making things worse. “Anyway, it’s just so nice to see everyone together.”

Rúben’s hand tightened slightly on his girlfriend’s waist, a subtle reassurance that she acknowledged with a barely perceptible glance upward. Daniel, though silent, couldn’t help but steal glances at the interaction. His jaw tightened imperceptibly when caught the gesture and quickly looked away.

“It really is,” She agreed, her voice calm and measured. Her gaze briefly met Heidi’s. “I’m glad we could all be here to celebrate Chloe and Scotty.”

“Me too,” Heidi replied, her tone polite, though her fingers fidgeted slightly with the stem of her glass. “They’re such a beautiful couple.”

“They are,” Rúben agreed, his deep voice steady as he gave Chloe a warm smile. “A perfect match.”

Chloe’s laughter bubbled up again, breaking some of the tension. “Alright, alright, enough about me and Scotty. You guys have to tell me,” she said, pointing a manicured finger at the woman and her boyfriend. “What’s your secret? You two look like a fucking movie poster.”

Y/N laughed softly, exchanging a look with Rúben. “No secret,” she said lightly. “We just clean up well.”

Rúben chuckled, moving her in front of his toned body and wrapping an arm around her. “And she makes it easy,” he added, with a kiss to her hair, his faint accent lacing the words with warmth.

Chloe sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “You two are disgustingly perfect. I love it.”

Daniel’s grip on his glass tightened slightly, but he kept his expression calm, a fake smile adorning his lips, nodding along to the conversation. Heidi shifted on his lap, leaning into him slightly, but he barely noticed.

As the conversation began to settle, Chloe, clearly still tipsy but determined to contribute something cheerful, leaned closer to Y/N with a bright smile. “You know, the invitation to the familymoon is still open. A whole week in Italy, just us and family, eating pasta and drinking wine. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”

Daniel’s eyes widened for a second and his ears perked up instantly. Blake and him were also invited to the trip, a sudden wave of hope bloomed in his chest. Y/N chuckled softly, her smile polite as she shook her head. “That’s so sweet of you, babes, but my answer still stands,” she gave her a fake chastised look. “I’ll have to pass this time.”

Chloe pouted playfully. “Come on, babes, you work too hard. It’ll be fun!”

“I’m sure it will,” Y/N replied with a light laugh. Then, with a subtle shift in her tone, she added, “But I’ll be busy celebrating with my man.” she looked up at him with a cheeky smile on her lips, placing a hand on his toned chest. “His team’s about to clinch the Premier League title in a few days, and I’m confident we’ll be celebrating a Champions League win next month too.”

Rúben gave her a small, knowing smile, his humility evident even as he nodded. “We’re working hard for it. Nothing’s guaranteed yet, though.”

“Don’t be so modest,” She teased, glancing up at him with a proud sparkle in her eye. “You’ve been phenomenal this season.”

Rúben gave a small, humble shrug, his lips curving into a modest smile. “It’s a team effort.”

Daniel couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of envy at the comment. While her tone was light, the pride in her words stung in a way he didn’t expect. His own career felt like it was hanging in limbo—a state of uncertainty he was getting accustomed to. Though he was in conversation with AlphaTauri to race in the remaining events of the season, nothing had been finalized, leaving him feeling adrift.

Chloe grinned, picking up on the subtle brag and clapping her hands together. “Alright, fine. I guess you have a pretty solid excuse. But just know I’ll be texting you pictures of everything you’re missing.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Y/N replied warmly, her gaze softening toward her friend. “You all deserve to have the best time.”

Chloe leaned back into Scotty’s side, looking pleased, while Y/N subtly leaned into Rúben’s comforting presence. Daniel, from his seat nearby, shifted slightly, his gaze briefly flickering toward the couple before he turned his attention back to Blake, engaging him in conversation as if nothing had happened.

Suddenly, the familiar opening notes of "Shower" began to play over the yacht’s sound system. Chloe’s excited shriek pierced the air as she jumped up from her seat, clapping her hands together.

“Oh my God, Y/N! It’s your song!” Chloe exclaimed, her voice gleeful and slightly slurred.

She immediately felt her cheeks warm, a bashful smile tugging at her lips as she leaned further into Rúben for support. He chuckled softly, his arm tightening around her waist.

“You’re a global superstar, meu anjo,” he murmured with a teasing glint in his eye. “You can’t be shy about your own song.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, hiding her face against his shoulder for a moment. “I’m not shy… it’s just unexpected!”

Before she could protest further, Chloe grabbed her hand, pulling her away from his tall and toned body. “Nope! No hiding! We have to dance to this—come on!”

“Chloe!” The singer protested, half-laughing as her friend tugged her toward the DJ booth.

The crowd, already energized by the music, erupted into cheers as they recognized her. People parted to let Chloe and Y/N through, and several phones lit up to capture the moment.

Rúben stayed behind, leaning casually against the bar with a fond smile on his face, watching as his girlfriend let herself be swept up in the moment. Her initial shyness melted away as she reached the DJ booth, giving the crowd a small wave and laughing as Chloe twirled her dramatically and proceeded to hand her a microphone.

The atmosphere buzzed with energy, the infectious beat of the song bringing everyone to their feet. Even Daniel, who had been quietly nursing his own thoughts, found himself glancing toward the impromptu scene, his lips twitching upward at the sight of her joy—effortlessly radiant, as always.

[elsvenus]

𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍 ✷ 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐘

𝐬𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐤!𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐱 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✷ character study draft on quinn fabray at her skank era with compulsory heterosexuality, religious trauma and lesbianism loosely inspired by the song limerence by lucy dacus ✷ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k ✷ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: religious imagery, internalized homophobia, sexual content (?) and angst

your first reaction is a twist of the face—weed hits your senses first, bold and unapologetic, a slap to the air between you. you’ve smoked with quinn twice before: cigarettes first, her cough sharp and ungraceful as the smoke tangled in her throat. she’d spend days masking the scent off her hair with rose scented shampoo, the kind that lingered long after the smoke had gone. and herbs last—chamomile, lavender, a delicate rebellion crafted by cheerleaders who wanted to be bold without crossing a line. quinn wouldn’t touch anything stronger; it was her limit, her rule, carved into your understanding of her.

but this girl standing in front of you—she reeked of marijuana at seven thirty in the morning, amidst a high school hallway.

the pink hair caught you next, brash and unapologetic, leading her image like a challenge to the world. it looked sloppy at first glance, as if someone had botched the job, but you couldn’t look away, until you did, and it clicked—the tilt of her mouth, the sharpness in her gaze under smudged eyeliner—you used to write about those sea green eyes in your diary, call them a mirage, quote vita sackville-west, you’d recognize them anywhere, even under layers of black pencil. your quinn fabray, remade, defiant, and dragging you under like a riptide.

she doesn’t greet you, but her gaze does, dragging over you, unhurried and unrelenting, like a tide claiming the shore. those pretty intimate eyes catch on the familiar lines of your cheerleading uniform, and latch onto the heaving of your chest and its performance on breathing under her stare. then, lower, to the strip of skin left bare through movement between your skirt and top, where you feel her attention like a touch. her new shadow appears—a girl with hair as recklessly outrageous as hers, someone you don’t know but already resent—and presses forward, the blunt in her hand an ember threatening your seams.

it happens too fast: a spark, a flicker, a hiss—and then a shriek, sharp enough to pierce the thick, sodden air. she’s burned her way through your clothes, unprovoked, while quinn stands and smiles.

her grin used to melt on you like sugar cookies on the tongue. now it metamorphosed into a brick wall, cold and unyielding. the change is a violence you feel in your body, the bile crawling up your throat from whiplash, the bitter taste of something lost and unrecognizable.

when santana finds you, you’re out of breath. her hand grips your shoulder like a lifeline and she’s throwing insults like curses towards the once-blonde that ricochet right off her grunge outerwear. quinn was always stoic, you thought, and in that moment it seemed like it to a fault.

“let’s go” santana demands, sharp and certain, pulling you out of the moment like a hand yanking you from quicksand. she steers you into a bathroom stall for a change of clothes and a breather, her movements brisk but protective. you hallucinate the rose shampoo smell when the latina bumps into quinn on your way out, peeking through the pot. you don’t notice the way her jaw tightens at the sight of santana’s hand on you—a newfound proximity to her old teammate—or how she grinds her perfect colgate teeth so hard she figures they might shatter onto themselves and dissolve in a thick paste of white dust over her gums. you don’t see her nails biting into the soft flesh of her palms, tiny crescents carved into her skin like some kind of self-inflicted penance. there’s a catholic upbringing still ingrained in the girl despite her changed exterior and it begs for condemnation at the perversion of her thoughts, you-shaped.

“well, she’s gone full psycho on us now,” santana quips, breaking the silence with a sharp edge of irony. her back is to you as you peel off the burned shirt, replacing it with one of hers—soft polyester, recently dry-cleaned, the scent minty and foreign against your skin. your fingers ghost over the reddened patch where the fabric scorched you, but something else hurts entirely. a hollow ache finds itself lodged in your chest, threatening to rise and choke you.

santana senses it—because of course she does—and keeps her voice moving, filling the quiet with a relentless stream of noise, as if the words could bury your unshed tears. “don’t even worry about it,” she says, tone breezy, though her eyes narrow when she glances over her shoulder. “britt and i will get her some decent hair dye and a captain role proposal tomorrow—trust me, she’ll cave. quinn’s always been a drama queen. it’s just another one of her crippling, depressive, teenage-baby-mama-cautionary-tale antics.”

her words tumble out fast and biting, meant to soothe you with their sharpness, to redirect the hurt. but they don’t quite land right, not when the ghost of quinn’s smile still lingers, cruel and carved into your memory.

she’s not at glee practice, and the absence feels heavier than it should, a weight that settles on your chest and refuses to lift. you’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this—her spot on the risers vacant, the energy in the room a few shades duller. it’s as though you’re being haunted by a ghost, the spirit trailing you through the period with an uncanny familiarity.

you can almost feel her—blonde hair swishing in a neat ponytail, strands brushing your skin in phantom movements, like the first time you choreographed together. sing a little prayer floods your thoughts. quinn standing just inches away, mirroring your every step with precision and poise, her concentration softening into a smile when she got it right. her laughter—melodious, unguarded—had filled the space between you like sunlight breaking through clouds. you’d taught her what brittany had shown you just hours earlier, the steps clumsy on your own feet but effortless when quinn picked them up.

practice goes on without her. voices rise in harmony, but your own feels caught in your throat. every time you close your eyes, she’s there—remade and unreachable.

you know she’s there when you’re walking toward your car because you know the intensity of her gaze on you like you know the frequency of your favorite radio station—familiar, tuned perfectly to you. you wonder if she’s bathed or if the outside air is just muffling the smoke from your senses. you wonder if she’s accompanied this time, again.

when your hand reaches for the door handle, she closes it from behind you, her palm pressing over yours against the cold metal. her touch is firm, unyielding, and her breath is on your neck, warm and intense, sending a jolt straight down your spine.

you’re brave now that you can’t see her straight on, you think, so you say “what the fuck do you want quinn?”

the answer is simple, really, but it never slips past the tight grasp of her self-forged cilice belt—her punishment, her restraint. and does anything ever? you’ve never been harsh to her before, so the words land like spit. and oh, they land where they shouldn’t, but she doesn’t flinch. she’d swallow anything you threw at her, though you don’t know it yet, the hidden truth of it—that she’d take it all, every barb and every wound, just to stay close. that she’d cause it too, because maybe being your scar was a good thing, meant you’d keep her memory around.

your hand stays frozen on the handle, hers still pressing over it. it isn’t harsh or cruel, but the weight of her palm traps you there, stalling your escape. “what do i want?” she repeats, low, almost mocking, like the answer should already be obvious. her voice is still a cherry blossom, no rebel costume changed it.

“yeah,” you say, turning your head just enough to catch her in the corner of your eye. her hair, pink and uneven, falls forward, brushing against your shoulder. you notice then, for the first time too, a sparkling glint by her nose that would later come into focus as a nose ring. “what the fuck do you want from me? another one of your friends is gonna jump me now?”

her lips twitch, almost like she’s trying not to smile, but it’s not the kind of smile you remember—not the princess one from last semester, not the cruel one from earlier either. something sadder. “i don’t know,” she says finally, her voice quieter now, almost introspective. “what do you think i want?”

her eyes meet yours fully then, and the look in them—sharp, unapologetic, something like hunger—makes your stomach twist. she wants you to say it so it’s only half a sin, then. half your fault, you, this full temptation. she thinks to herself if this perversion—lovesick lustful virus—would find its way to infecting you too, she’ll pinpoint its spread and keep it from possessing her. “quinn, just stop,” you say, your voice breaking.

but she doesn’t stop. she leans in, just enough for you to feel her presence in every inch of your body, her hand now covering the spot on your waist you watched her scrutinize earlier. “i think,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, “you already know.”

her words settle over you like a weight, impossible to ignore, harder even to deny. and for a fleeting moment, overwhelmed by her lingering, you wonder if she’s right.

you pull away. it’s instinctual, automatic, the only defense you have against the weight of her hand and the look in her eyes that makes you feel like she could split you open with just a glance, and the air between you snaps like a rubber band, taut and stinging.

“fuck off, quinn,” you mutter, harsher than you intended, but it’s the only way you know how to breathe again. you shove her hand off your body and slide inside, slamming it shut between you. her face remains unchanged, a lifelong practice of being yelled at and ridiculed, first by her ‘lucy caboosey’ peers, later by her parents after the teenage pregnancy fiasco, constantly by coach sylvester... there’s no flinch, no anger—just that infuriating stillness, like she expected this all along.

you sit there for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard your knuckles turn white. through the windshield, you can see her reflection in the rearview mirror. the engine growls to life, but you don’t pull out the parking lot right away. you can’t—not when she’s still there, pink hair catching the dim light like a warning flare.

“fuck! just leave,” you whisper to yourself, a command more than a thought. but you don’t move.

and then, as if sensing the crack in your resolve, she steps forward. the sharp rap of her fist on the glass makes you jump. you roll the window down an inch, just enough for her voice to reach you, the coward you were.

“you want me to stop?” she asks, her tone softer now, the edges sanded down just enough to make it hurt differently. “are you completely sure about that?” and you hate her for it—the way she can turn her voice into a weapon, disarming and cutting all at once. handcrafted knife just for your plunging.

“go home, quinn,” you say, but the words lack conviction.

she leans down, close enough for you to see the smudge of eyeliner beneath her lashes, the faint shadow of freckles on her cheeks that no amount of rebellion could erase.

“i can’t,” she says simply, and it feels like both an admission and an accusation, her words sinking their claws into the air between you. the weight of her gaze is suffocating, and this time, you don’t look away. “this is all your fault,” she breathes, low and cutting, like the words have been festering for too long to come out clean. “everything. i can’t fucking breathe. the perfect girl, with the perfect grades, the perfect cheerleading captain, with a dazzling future as prom queen—everything neat and pretty and laid out for me—until you.” quinn’s voice breaks, sharp and jagged, and it feels like the ground is shifting beneath you.

“you come crashing onto the scene, and it’s like you’ve got your hands around my throat, suffocating me. i tried finn, i tried puck, i tried burying it so deep i’d forget my own fucking name. and there you were, always there, knocking the air out of my lungs like some kind of goddamn traitor.” she continued, her words hitting like punches, each one landing harder than the last, every syllable dragging up pieces of her you didn’t even know were there.

“you’re moping around glee club, and the hallways, and trailing after santana like some lost puppy about how poor you, your best friend quinn fabray has changed.” she spits the words like venom, like she’s been waiting to say them all her life. “newsflash: we were never friends. never.”

her voice drops then, quieter, almost bitter with disbelief. “i was your hostage. from the moment you smiled at me, i was fucking doomed.”

she almost wants to talk about beth. almost. but the thought of it feels like swallowing glass. it sticks in her throat, sharp and jagged, tearing at her resolve. still, she considers it, turning the words over in her mind, bitter and unspoken: did you know i slept with puck the day after you slept over for the first time? a stupid, desperate attempt to erase the way my skin burned from the brush of your arm against my side in your sleep. did you know i still feel it there, like you’ve branded me, and no shower, no scrubbing, no fucking absolution can rid me of the trace of you?

quinn’s fingers twitch, restless, aching to grasp something solid, something real, but instead, she clenches them into fists to keep herself steady.

did you know i watched your thighs flush against those stupid pink pajamas? watched the way the fabric clung to your skin, the way it outlined every inch of you? did you know i traced it all out in my mind—mapped where i’d leave my teeth, where i’d bite down, where i’d bruise you, places no one would ever see because the cheerios uniform would keep it hidden?

don't you remember when we kissed at that party? the words buzz beneath her skin, electric, unsaid but too loud to ignore. when it was just a game, a performance, because we're pretty girls, and that's what pretty straight girls do when they're playing attention whores for teenage boys. only then is it okay. only then does it mean nothing. don't you remember how i tasted? strawberry lip gloss, even though i always wear cherry. you hated cherry, and i knew that. doesn't my taste keep you up at night, the way yours keeps me awake, haunting my tongue like a phantom i can't escape?

quinn bites the inside of her cheek, the copper tang of blood grounding her, keeping her from letting the words spill out. because if you admit it—if you dare to nod, to confirm that the memory burns you like it burns her-it will ruin her. and yet, some sick, desperate part of her wants you to. she wants to ask: doesn’t my taste haunt you too?

the confession festers, clawing at the walls of her ribcage, begging to escape. but she swallows it down, presses it into the hollow space between who she is and who she pretends to be, the weight of it a familiar ache. instead, she stays silent, biting back the truth until her jaw aches.

[pitufitaispunk]

Velvet Ring

Chapter Seven: Date Night

Pairing: Riff x Latina!Reader (West Side Story 2021)

Velvet Ring Masterlist

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I look around cautiously as Riff leads me to the docks, my face scrunched in disdain. Although Riff had warned me of their rundown state, I hadn't expected the docks to look so... ugly. The foundation had holes in it, some pillars were slanted, and it may have just been my paranoid mind, but I swear the wind was making the docks sway from side to side. I began to wonder if it was such a smart idea to follow Riff to a sketchy place like this. After all, he is still a Jet and I'm not entirely sure I can trust him...

"Come on, I'll pull you up." Riff says suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts. He's already climbed up onto the rotted wood, his eyes locked on mine as he holds his hand out for me to grab.

"Are you sure this is safe?" I ask, my hands swaying idly at my sides.

Riff chuckles at my question, "For sure. Me and my buddies hang out here all the time, none of us have broken any bones yet. Come on, you can trust me." He says, beckoning me with his hand again. I hesitantly take his hand, Riff grunts softly as he pulls me up onto the wooden platform. He smiles down at me, "See? What'd I tell ya? Perfectly safe." He says as he carefully leads me further down the docks to sit down.

I purse my lips, eyeing the wooden planks suspiciously, "If you say so... None of your friends will come by, will they?" I ask. It hadn't slipped my mind that some other Jets could show up and catch Riff with me. Who knows what they would do to me if they did. It made me wonder if Riff would defend me then or if he would join his friends.

Riff shakes his head, "Nah, they don't come by around this time. They're usually busy messing with..." He stops himself and I have a feeling I know what he's going to say. He smacks his lips awkwardly then chuckles, "Well, anyway, I like to hang out here when I know they won't be. It gives me some time to think." He explains, taking a seat nonchalantly, his legs dangling over the edge of the docks.

I nod slowly, carefully sitting next to him, "I do that too."

Riff smiles at this, " I guess we're more alike than we thought, huh?" I guess we are.

My eyes scan over his face as he looks out into the distance and I notice he has a crescent shaped scar beneath his right eye. I squint slightly as I gaze at it, wondering where he may have got it from or who he may have got it from. Maybe it was someone I knew. I jump slightly as he looks at me from the corner of his eye, a smirk playing softly on his lips, "You stare a lot, huh?"

My cheeks flush as I'm taken aback from his question, "What?"

He laughs and redirects his gaze to the sky again, "The first time I saw you, you were staring at me too." I'm surprised he brings this up. I thought he must've brushed that first time we saw each other off, but maybe he thought of me as much as I thought of him. "I don't think any PR has ever looked at me without even a hint of hate, you know. You're the first to look at me with... I don't know, curiosity." He says softly, shielding his blue eyes from the sunlight with his hand.

I hum softly, "I'd never seen you before then."

Riff smirks, looking at me again, "Oh yeah? Did ya think I was good looking?"

I roll my eyes, trying to seem nonchalant although I could feel my cheeks heating up. I wouldn't admit it to him, but I did think he was handsome that first time I saw him. It was hard to deny it. "No, I was just shocked. Bernardo is very protective of me, so I'd never seen any Jet that close." I say, my eyes drifting down to my lap.

From the corner of my eye, I see Riff tilt his head thoughtfully, "Yeah... that's smart of him."

I look up at him, "Do you and your friends do things like that a lot?" I ask, referring to how they went rampant throughout the market that day.

His lips form an awkward thin line, "Depends on what you consider 'a lot', I guess." He looks down at his dirtied blue jeans, his fingers fidgeting sheepishly.

I quirk a brow at him, "Riff?" He hums in response, still not looking at me. "Why did you bring me here?" I ask him.

He shrugs, turning his left hand over and rubbing the palm with his right hand's thumb, "I just wanted to get to know you..."

"But why? You know who I am, you know who my brother is." Riff huffs softly and I can tell he doesn't really know how to explain himself.

"Is it so wrong to want to hang out with a pretty girl?" He asks, his brows raised slightly.

"It's just suspicious that you would want to hang out with a Puerto Rican girl when you and your friends spend your time trying to come up with new ways to make us miserable." I huff. My words make Riff's cheeks flush and I know I've probably hit a nerve.

"Listen, it's nothing personal. At least for me it's not. You wouldn't get it..." He says softly, his eyes flitting down to his tattered black sneakers.

My brows pinch, "What wouldn't I get?" I didn't get what he meant by all of this. Did he think I was too dumb to understand why he and his friends acted so ignorantly towards me and my loved ones? Does he think they're in the right? I huff softly and stand, "I have to go home now. Bernardo and Anita get home in a few hours and I have to clean up the apartment before they get back." I was lying, but I needed any excuse to leave. I can't believe I ever thought he was different than those other Jets. Of course he isn't.

To my surprise, Riff quickly stands, "Wait, I didn't mean to offend ya. I just..." He sighs, raking a hand through his hair, "I can't explain why we do the things we do. I wasn't always the leader of the Jets, you know? I'm still learning how to keep them all in line, it's hard. I promise I'll try to talk them out of bothering you or any other Puerto Ricans, alright?" He bargains, his voice sincere as he gazes down at me.

I purse my lips, my eyes narrowing, "Why would you do that?" I ask, still not completely trusting him.

He sighs, "Because I like you."

I quirk a brow at him, "But you don't know anything about me, you don't even know my name."

Riff smiles, leaning against a wooden pillar, "Well, maybe once I've earned your trust, you can tell me."

I try to suppress my smile, but fail to, "Maybe... I guess we'll have to see, Jet boy."

He snorts in amusement, "Jet boy? I think giving me a nickname means you're warming up to me..."

I roll my eyes playfully and turn on my heel, carefully hopping off the docks onto the dirt road, "Don't count on it."

"I'll see you around, girly girl!" Riff calls after me as I walk away, I could practically hear the smirk in his voice and it excited me.

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When I finally get home, I kick off my shoes by the door and leave the gauze on the kitchen counter for Bernardo before realizing that I still have my date with Manuel today. I groan softly and go into my bedroom, flopping onto my bed face first. This would be my first date ever and I didn't even really want to go, but it would be rude to decline Manuel now. Especially since everyone in our neighborhood knew about it, I couldn't embarrass him like that. I get off my bed and walk over to my clothing rack, trying to decide which of my dresses would be the best for a date. I lay out a nice pale pink dress that Anita had made for me a few months ago and a powder blue one on my bed, my pointer finger tapping my chin thoughtfully. I suddenly hear the front door open, "Mamita, ¿estás en casa?" I hear Anita call, making me sigh in relief. I would need all of her guidance in getting ready for tonight.

I hurry out to the kitchen, watching as she hangs up her purse on the coat rack, "¿Y eso que saliste del trabajo temprano?" I hum, noticing she'd gotten home earlier than usual.

Anita smiles brightly, "Es un milagro. I finished two of my dress orders today! Señora Silva let me go early, thankfully. What about you? What have you been up to today, hm?" She asks, moving gracefully throughout the kitchen as she prepares herself a cup of coffee.

"I just went to Doc's to pick up more gauze for Bernardo." I shrug, nodding towards the roll of gauze on the counter.

I'm sure I'm convincingly calm enough until Anita quirks her brow at me, "Is that all you did today? Te ves sonrojada."

I nod, smiling awkwardly, "Sí, it was just hot today." I chuckle, hoping she'd drop it. The longer she stared at me, the harder I found it was to keep my secret in. I felt as though at any second I could burst and tell her how I spent my day with the leader of the Jets.

I'm snapped out of my panicked thoughts as Anita hums, "If you say so..." She murmurs. I swallow nervously as she eyes me suspiciously. She sighs, sitting at the dining table with her fresh hot coffee in hand, "So, what are you wearing for your date tonight?" She asks with a broad grin before taking a sip.

I roll my eyes, a smile making its way onto my face, "I'm not sure yet, but perhaps you would like to help me?"

She squeals joyfully and grabs my hands, "¡Claro que sí! It's your first date, you have to look perfect! Maybe you should wear that pink dress I made for you with all the little flowers on it... or the lavender chiffon one?"

I laugh at her excitement, "I was thinking of the pink one too."

Anita quickly stands from her seat and pulls me towards my bedroom, "Show me your options!"

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"¡Ya llegué! ¿Anita, Y/N?" Bernardo calls once he finally gets home. It'd been a few hours, yet I still wasn't ready for my date.

"We're in here!" Anita calls as she finishes combing out my hair. Nardo's footsteps echo through our apartment until he's standing in my bedroom doorway, "When is Manuel getting here?" She asks him nervously as she takes two small sections of my hair to braid them.

Bernardo chuckles, "He said 6:00 and it's 5:30, how are you still not ready yet, pollita?" He teases, taking a seat on my bed.

I look at him in the mirror, my eyes narrowed, "Be grateful I'm going on this date at all."

Anita laughs, tugging at my hair gently, "Don't upset your brother, nena." I pout, fiddling with the frilly hem of my dress.

Nardo stands and walks over to the two of us, "¿Estás nerviosa?" He asks me, his head tilted down slightly. To be honest, I was a bit nervous about tonight. I'm awful at making small talk and much too awkward to go on dates. Especially when I'm not even completely interested in the boy I'm going with.

I smile and shake my head, playing with cross necklace idly, "No, no, estoy bien. I'm just worried I won't have anything to say to him."

Anita pats my shoulder, "You'll be fine, you have plenty of interesting stories you can tell Manuel. Y si no, at least there's no way you could be as bad as your brother was on our first date. I couldn't get a word out of him that night!" She laughs, making Nardo blush.

"Well, that's because I couldn't get a word in." He huffs, earning him a swat on his arm. He winces, "¡Ay! Perdón... what I meant to say was, I was too entranced by your beauty to think of something to say." This makes Anita and I laugh.

"Much better." She hums. It was funny, Bernardo always acted so tough in front of his friends and the Jets, but when it's just the three of us, it's clear that Anita is the boss in their relationship.

After multiple attempts, Anita pulls the two little braids up, making a sort of crown and ties them together with a white ribbon, leaving the rest of my hair down. She smiles brightly, brushing her fingers through my hair, making sure it's neat, "There. Te ves perfecta."

I marvel at myself in the mirror before spinning around and hugging her tightly, "Ay, Anita... ¡eres maravillosa! Thank you so much!" I exclaim.

Anita hugs me back just as tight, "De nada, nena. Anything for you." She smiles, before pulling back gently, "Now, let's do some light makeup." She says pointedly, knowing anything 'excessive' or bold would upset Bernardo. I nod and sit on my vanity stool as Anita goes to grab her makeup bag. Nardo smiles at me, placing a hand firmly on my shoulder, "I'm proud of you, pollita." His words catch me off guard, "I know you didn't want to go on this date initially, but you're going anyway. You're becoming a very mature woman."

I smile sheepishly, "You think so?"

He nods, "Mamá y Papá estarían orgullosos de ti." When he's sees the tears forming in my eyes, Nardo leans down and hugs me.

Anita stands in the doorway with a fond smile, "Ay, que lindos se ven cuando no están peleando." She coos.

Nardo and I pull away, sniffling softly. He elbows me playfully, "Mocosa."

I roll my eyes, smiling as I reach up to swat the back of his head, "Mandón."

The three of us laugh before Anita begins to do my makeup. She takes out a large brush, a case of blush, a lipstick tube, eyeliner, and mascara, "Now, hold still, nena." She instructs as she begins rubbing some blush into my cheeks with the brush, Nardo chortles to himself.

"Maybe I should start calling you payasita instead of pollita, Y/N." He smirks.

I glare up at him, ready to shoot back at him, but Anita beats me to it. She turns her head towards him, one hand on her hip, "Are you judging the way I do makeup?"

His cheeks flush almost as pink as mine, "Oh, no, no, mi amor! She looks beautiful, continue please."

She huffs and begins doing my eye makeup. I purse my lips slightly, wondering if Manuel and I would see any Jets on our date. Maybe we would see Riff... If we did, I wonder if he would say anything to me. What am I saying? I shouldn't be thinking of Riff when I'm about to go out with another boy. I shouldn't be thinking of Riff, period. But I don't think I can stop.

Anita and Bernardo stare at me curiously as she begins applying my lipstick for me, "Everything okay, Y/N?" She asks me.

I blink, noticing their curious gazes, "Sí, just lost in thought, I guess."

They hum, exchanging glances that make my stomach churn. "Well, you're all done, nena." Anita says, turning me towards the mirror for a good look at myself. I smile at my reflection and how pretty I looked, swishing my poofy pink dress from side to side. Usually, I only got this dolled up for church or parties.

"Que chula te ves." Nardo chuckles. At that moment, there's a knock on the door. My lips thin nervously, making Nardo and Anita smile, "No estés nerviosa, pollita. It's gonna be fun, you'll see." Nardo assures me, Anita nodding in agreement. The two of them lead me out of my bedroom, Nardo hurrying to open the door for Manuel.

When the door opens, Manuel smiles politely at us. My eyes widen in surprise at the sight of him. He cleaned up nice for our date. Usually his hair was a bit messy and his clothes were always covered in flour and frosting, but now he's in a suit and his hair is gelled back neatly. "Buenas tardes." He says softly, shaking Bernardo's hand.

"Buenas tardes, Manuel." We reply.

After a short moment of awkward silence, Bernardo speaks, "I want her home by 9:00, you got it?" He warns playfully, nudging Manuel.

Manuel nods, a sheepish smile on his face, "Por supuesto, no later than 9:00." I grab my purse and my coat off the coat rack, Manuel helping me to put them on.

"Have fun, you two!" Anita calls out as Manuel and I walk out of the apartment.

"Not too much fun!" Nardo adds, making my cheeks flush in embarrassment.

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The walk to the restaurant is relatively quiet besides the sound of my heels clacking on the pavement and the distant chatter of pedestrians.

Manuel shoves his hands in his pockets, clicking his tongue, "So, Y/N, ¿Como estaba tu día?" He asks, trying to start up a conversation.

I smile, glancing up at him as we walk side by side, "Estaba bien. Pretty uneventful." I shrug, "And how was yours?"

He nods, "Mine was good, too. Busy day at the bakery." He suddenly stops walking, "Oh! That reminds me..." He pulls out a white paper bag from his jacket pocket and holds it out to me, "I brought you your usual order of three Mallorcas, plus an extra one for me." He grins, "I thought we could eat them for dessert."

I laugh softly, taking the bag from him and putting it in my purse, "Gracias, Manuel. That's very thoughtful of you."

We arrive to the diner and quickly sit ourselves at a booth. A waitress strolls up to our table and gives us some menus, "Welcome to the Busy Burger, what can I get started for you two?" She asks, her voice rugged.

Manuel and I order lemonade to start and exchange frazzled looks when the waitress walks off to the kitchen. Looking through the menu, it was hard to decide what to get. I had assumed Manuel would take us to a Puerto Rican restaurant or something of that nature.

"Sorry, Y/N, I probably should've picked someplace familiar." Manuel says apologetically, grinning softly.

I shake my head, "It's good to try new things. I think I'll get a cheeseburger."

He beams, becoming more confident, "Me too."

When the waitress comes back, we order our cheeseburgers and hand her back the menus, thanking her.

"So... what's new?" Manuel asks, picking at the tablecloth. I could tell he was still a bit nervous.

"Not much, work has been slow at the florería..." I respond.

Manuel nods, "Sorry, I haven't been stopping by as often as usual. Things have been busy at work, lots of orders."

I smile, trying to keep the conversation going, "Ah, que bueno. ¿Cómo está tu familia?"

"Bien." He hums, taking a sip of his lemonade. I give him a thin lipped smile, our booth becoming awkwardly quiet.

The waitress soon comes back with our food, I sigh softly in relief. Manuel quickly begins eating, his eyes sparkling in delight, "I can't believe I've never had one of these, ¡son increíbles!" He exclaims, ketchup smeared on the corner of his mouth.

I laugh, trying to eat as neatly as possible, "Te ves como un niño." He laughs along with me.

Maybe this date wouldn't be as bad as I thought.　

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After dinner, Manuel and I begin walking aimlessly through the streets. The sun has just set and we still had about an hour before I had to be home. Manuel was incredibly sweet to me the whole night and besides the few uncomfortable silences that would reign a couple of times, I was having a nice time.

But there was still someone I couldn't stop thinking about. Even on a date with a perfectly nice boy, my mind was still on-

Riff.

My eyes widen in shock as I spot Riff and a few Jets down the street from Manuel and I, lost in conversation. I feel Manuel stiffen next to me, "Estos pinches gringos..." He mutters angrily.

"Manuel, vamos. Please don't start anything." I whisper to him, trying to calm him down.

He relaxes, nodding slowly, "Tienes razón. Let's get you home." I grab Manuel's hand as we turn to leave.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the little Puerto Rican princess." I hear one of them call from behind us.

"You out with your boyfriend, sweetheart?" Another jeers.

"Manuel, don't. No vale la pena." I whisper to him as I feel him begin to shake with anger.

He pulls away from me and storms towards them, "You got something to say, pendejos?" He spits, making the Jets laugh. I quickly hurry after him.

As we stand before them, my eyes go to Riff. He was leaned against the wall of a shop, a cigarette dangling from him lips and his eyes on the ground. My brows pinch slightly at his cool demeanor.

"I think you heard me loud and clear, buddy." Diesel says to Manuel, towering over him menacingly.

"Manuel, vámonos, por favor." I plead, tugging on his coat sleeve. Manuel waves me off dismissively.

"You should listen to the lady." Riff says, still not looking up at us.

"Why is that?" Manuel huffs. I roll my eyes, Nardo has told me about Manuel's temper before, but I didn't think he could be this hotheaded.

Riff flicks his cigarette to the sidewalk and stomps it out gently before finally looking up, his eyes locking on Manuel's, "Well, for starters, trying to start a fight when you're this outnumbered is not the smartest decision. Plus..." He eyes me up and down, making my cheeks flush, "You are on a date, after all."

I cross my arms over my chest, looking away from him sheepishly, "Manuel, let's just go. Now." I say firmly, turning to walk away. Manuel sighs and begins trudging after me.

"Boy, that's some short leash she's got you on!" Diesel calls tauntingly.

"Yeah, she probably paid for dinner an' all!" Another — most likely A-rab— calls.

I hold Manuel's arm tightly, "Ignore them."

He nods. We're just about to turn the corner before Riff shouts, "Call me when you want a date with a real man, doll!"

Manuel loses it and runs towards Riff, tackling him to the ground.

"Manuel, no!" I yell, hurrying towards them. The other Jets cheer Riff on, urging him to fight, but Riff just lays there and lets Manuel punch him. I quickly try to pull Manuel off of him before he accidentally punches me. I fly back onto the pavement, landing on my rear. Everyone freezes, staring at me incredulously. It was silent, the only sounds being the chirping of crickets and a nightingale twittering in the distance.

Manuel looks back at me with wide eyes, "Y/N! I'm sorry, are you alright?" He gasps, quickly climbing off of Riff and rushing to my side.

I hold my pulsing cheek tenderly, "Ow..."

Riff sits up, grunting softly. His left eye was completely bruised, his bottom lip was cut, and his cheek was bloody; coincidentally matching mine.

Manuel helps me off the ground, taking my purse and leading me away from the Jets, murmuring apologies to me as we walk. I glance back, seeing Riff staring at me with a solemn expression as the other Jets help him up. It makes my heart sink.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

When we get back to my apartment, Manuel digs through my purse for my keys to unlock the front door. As soon as we walk in, Anita lets out a sharp gasp, "¡Bernardo!" She quickly helps Manuel lead me to the living room, sitting me on the couch and helping me take my heels off, "Mamita, ¿qué pasó?" She asks urgently before hurrying to the kitchen to get ice for my bruised cheek.

Nardo walks out of the bathroom, "What happened? Why were you calling-" He lets out a gasp similar to Anita's upon seeing my injury and rushes to my side, "What happened?!" He asks Manuel and I demandingly.

I look up at Manuel, not sure what to say. He sighs, looking down at his bruised knuckles, "Fue mi culpa, Bernardo... We ran into the Jets and-"

Nardo quickly cuts him off, "The Jets?!"

I sigh, "Nardo, it's not a big deal, estoy bien. It's just a little bruise." Anita brings me an ice bag, carefully placing it on my cheek.

Bernardo scoffs, gesturing to my face wildly, "You call that a little bruise?! How did this happen exactly, Manuel?"

Manuel glances at me sheepishly, "Well, como dije, we ran into the Jets y empezaron a molestarnos. They kept trying to talk to Y/N and I just lost it." He explains, his voice timid and guilty.

Bernardo huffs, "So how did Y/N end up with that bruise?"

"It was my own fault, Nardo." I jump in, "He was fighting Riff and I tried to pull him off and... he accidentally hit me." I say the last part very quietly, afraid of how he would react.

"Goodnight, Manuel." Bernardo says, eerily calmly. Manuel wasted no time hurrying out of the apartment, bidding Anita and I a quick goodbye.

Anita sits next to me, sighing softly, "¿Cómo te sientes, nena?" She asks me, stroking my hair out of my face.

"Estoy bien, lo prometo. Don't be upset with Manuel, Nardo." I say pleadingly.

"He shouldn't have even tried to fight while you were there." Bernardo hisses, "It was completely irresponsible and look what happened to you!"

Anita grabs his hand gently, "Cálmate, amor."

"I agree, ¡pero estoy bien! It doesn't hurt that much y lo hizo por accidente." I reason, trying to help Manuel out.

Bernardo sighs, "Are you sure you're fine?"

I nod, "I promise I am. Manuel is a sweet boy and this was an honest mistake." Anita nods, rubbing Nardo's hand with her thumb.

His lips quirk slightly, "Alright... but if he pulls something like that again- pow! I'll give him a bruise matching yours."

Anita and I laugh at his antics, even if it hurt a bit for me.

"Me voy a alistarme para la cama. Buenas noches." I say softly, giving them both kisses on their cheeks before trudging off to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

"Buenas noches, pollita."

"Buenas noches, querida." They say, concerned looks on their faces.

I go into the bathroom and change out of my dress and underclothes. I toss them in the laundry hamper before washing my face and brushing my teeth. I then take the ribbon and braids out of my hair before stepping into the shower and turning on the warm water. A soft sigh of relief escapes my lips as the water rushes down my skin, I make sure to avoid my sore cheek. After a long, eventful evening, it was nice to relax like this.

I wondered how Riff was doing now. Manuel had left him in much worse condition than me, I remembered his busted lip, black eye, and bloody cheek, cringing at the thought.

I doubt Riff would ever want to see me again after how he looked at me tonight, as if I betrayed him. Especially after my date beat him up so badly.

I finish my shower and wrap my towel around myself, making my way to my bedroom and closing the door behind me. I dry my hair with my towel, hang it on my clothes rack, then change into a nightgown. I lay in my bed with a deep sigh, my eyes heavy with exhaustion.

As I drifted off to sleep, Riff's battered face was the only thing on my tired mind.

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Next Chapter

[boofeine]

hii, i will try to write and explain this in the best way i can bc english isn't my first language!!

recently, i've been thinking of seventeen x latinas and then i found you and saw your readings and had an idea.

can you see/do a reading (idk how to say this HELP) if that's their type or if they like latinas or not?

dont need to do if you don't want to btw i was just curious, thats it bye 🩷

nothing like doing it while the boys are on Mexico 😆 and as a latina, im also curious 🤓🤓

are seventeen attracted to latinas?

WARNINGS: tarot is not one fixed truth, you are the one in charge of your life decisions.

this reading was done with only the major arcanes.

seungcheol: somehow, he finds those people intimidating, he might get tongue tied around them, it's a mix of attracted to but scared of.

jeonghan: yes, he could be attracted to them. contrary to cheol, he might want to take the lead.

joshua: he doesn't have any opinion on it but might look at them as ppl who take action, i think he sees them being a lot different than korean ppl when it comes to dating interests.

junhui: yes. oh the man has taken action too 🤓 the cards saying he KNOWS it's good, so yes, and he might have experience with latinas....

soonyoung: yes and have experience as well... he had a taste, liked it and would again.

wonwoo: doesn't have an opinion either but could be attracted to his ideal of these ppl (it makes sense that the justice came here since he might not know any latin ppl)

jihoon: i don't think so... im finding it quite hard to read this one... might not have an opinion on it, OR it could be that he had an experience but wouldn't do it again.

seokmin: yes. similar to jeonghan here, he might think about wanting to take the lead on it.

mingyu: yes but he doesn't take any action on it. he indeed see them as attractive ppl but wouldn't take as far as thinking it.

minghao: no, it doesn't seem he has any interest nor opinion.

seungkwan: yes but also feels a little intimidated by them, and would have to gather courage to take action, but he really wants to.

vernon: doesn't have any opinion on it. he could have had some interest in the past, but not anymore.

chan: yes. it seems he had some experience too and it's willing to have it again. he liked it a lot.