#people tell me they like it when i make tien red faced and how i make his eye super emotive and like Yeah Me Too <3<3<3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[itsfairly]

i know Miguel O'Hara seems like the kind of guy to mind his business, but you know how you get a hundred times more comfortable when you meet someone from your culture? sure, he may be reserved and intimidating when seeing him for the first time and his stoic expression doesn't exactly help either. but as soon as he listens to someone speaking spanish in nueva york, its instantly captures his attention.

thats what happened today. miguel needed some time, away from his job at alchemax and definitely a break from being spiderman, and ended up taking a quick drink at this bar. he was just mulling over this week, how long and frankly overwhelming it has been to the point where this is the first time he has spared some time in a while.

however, his thoughts were soon interrupted. it wasn't like the bar was empty, there were clients and conversations filling the silence along with the clinks and clanks of their drinks, but those weren't the sounds that made him snap out of his mind.

what did were a few words. their language specifically.

¿Viste al tipo por la barra? ¿No se te hace guapo?

honestly, people tended to tell these comments to his face, telling him compliments that instantly revealed their intentions as soon as they tried to touch his arm and flash him some flirty eyes. that usually turned miguel off, quickly shaking off any advancements in favor of his other responsibilities.

but there was something about hearing them in his language, the one he was used to hearing at home when younger (much harsher at that) or when it just slipped out of him here and there.

Sí, ya sabes que a mi me gusta cuando tienen el cabelllo largo. Hasta tiene unos rulos por su nuca, son tiernos.

Oh, claro, vele esos brazotes, ¿tú crees que no los veo?

Ay, no sé. Yo sé que estoy hablando de más, ¡pero velo! Esta muy guapo.

and more and more words you were probably oblivious to the fact that he was not only listening in but also understanding perfectly. it was an honest confidence boost if he was being honest. Someone gushing over him at a bar? In Spanish no less? It was new, almost innocent if it weren't for how explicit you were being about how attractive you found him, but endearing nonetheless.

listening in wouldn't do much harm, Miguel thought to himself, slightly adjusting himself in his seat to get a glimpse of you, immediately feeling that giddiness from seeing you talk your friend's ear off over some stranger.

it was that after a few minutes, he heard some laughter from your table.

No, absolutamente no. ¿Lo viste? Esta fuera de mi alcanze ese hombre, no voy a ir a hacer el ridiculo.

and suddenly, he didn't want to keep pretending like all your gushing was falling on deaf ears.

taking a last sip of his beer after paying the bartender, Miguel stood up from his seat, heading over to the table that had him so intrigued today. he had to admit, it felt a little silly to act all tough and confident when he rarely sets time apart for stuff like this. but when your eyes meet his and he sees that hint of red in your cheeks, he didn't felt so alone in his silliness as he remembers your words.

if you werent going to make a move out of fear of feeling stupid, then he wouldn't be stupid to let either of you walk away from a chance.

miguel clears his throat, interrupting the conversation between you and your friend as he slips a napkin your way, nodding at both you and your friend before leaving.

as he heads to the door, he hears your friend start laughing, making him turn his head back to see you shaking your head over your hands, hiding your face. though he could the hint of red had reached your ears. your friend tells you to look up once more, meeting miguel's eyes once more, prompting him to smile at you and hint back at the napkin.

you looked down at the napkin, feeling your heart race once more, not believing the fool you made of yourself regardless. while yes, he did leave his name and number written down for you, it wasn't enough to let you know he had heard your interest in him. no, he had to let you know he was just as much a Spanish speaker as you.

Miguel, (xxx) xxx-xxxx Por sí quieres que este a tu alcanze.

safe to say that you two eventually got the chance to go on a date once your embarrassment passed. after all, it wasn't that common to find someone who spoke the same language as you in nueva york and miguel wouldn't let that chance slip away, especially after you sounded so pretty gushing over him.

[narcosmx]

being the arellano baby and being into ismael "mayo" zambada would include (pt.2 : the wedding)

an: i heard yall wanted some more mayo and the arellano-felix little sister shit to read

okay so my last post ended with the beginning of the wedding, dressed in that red bridesmaid dress, mayo looking at you like you're his bride

all that shit

i just imagine your sisters had the best time dolling you up, making you wear a dress that hugs you and you wouldn't have chosen for yourself in a million years

anyways

but i am just imagining this cute wholesome sister scene of all the sisters dancing to como la flor and dina spinning you around :(((

benjamin and ramon are looking at you with heart eyes knowing that it is lit going to kill them to have to give you away

like they already have these emotions coming up when they have to give their older sister away imagine their fucking baby

while i see mayo standing against a wall, sipping on a drink, eyes just watching you in complete adoration like he's looking at you like you can't be fucking real

just staring, can you imagine like guero having to nearly knock his ass over to get him out of his trance i just the "oye que tienes mayo" and him turning, blinking slowly then trying to brush him off with his cool composure

and as mayo is talking to guero, trying to keep his composure with his eyes still lingering on you giggling with your sisters

and benjamin, he might be some conservative prude butt of an older brother but he is astute

he's followed mayo's gaze already and he knew it was locked on you and knowing that this may be his way in... his way to drawing mayo in

is benjamin going to use you to get to mayo... he couldn't use his baby sister but is he sure as hell going to take advantage of that look in his eyes, fuck yeah

during dinner, i imagine you floating around the party; it's a who's whos of government officials and anyone who was anyone in tijuana

and sure you may claim to not have a role to play in your family exactly, you know you're the face they like to play

floating around, hugging people, kissing them on the cheek, having everyone tell you how beautiful you look and how they can't wait to be at your wedding

imagine someone saying that, looking up and locking eyes with mayo who has been lingering closer and closer to you trying to find a natural opportunity to talk to you

looking down, flustered and thanking them before trying to find a place to lay low... mayo is starting to swoop in walking towards you taking this deep breath

and then fucking intercepted, that's when benjamin comes up to mayo nearly blocking and like leading him away

that's when they start having that join tijuana conversation and it isn't going benjamin's way and that's when they start playing the music to get people on the dance floor

picture with me soft luis miguel music because ouch my heart

this isn't a coincidence, benjamin has gone over the schedule to this wedding a million times and while he's not going to use you, he knows you and your tendencies

like clock work, you come flying towards benjamin, pulling on his elbow begging for him to take you to dance before blushing because you've failed to notice who exactly he's talking to

i'm screaming benjamin being like "perdoname, mi reina, not right now. i needed to go talk to someone but" him motioning to mayo being like "can you actually do me a favor and take nena to dance, she's never going to forgive me if she doesn't get to dance"

and now there's the you looking up at him moment, this fucking butterfly excitement moment and mayo is like forgetting he was even talking about business, flustered hasta la madre

okay but then why am i picturing this being fucking ruined by ramon

because benjamin is seeing that this is an "in" for the business and fucking ramon is SEETHING at his table because all he sees is this fucker trying to get at his baby sister

while you're walking over to benjamin, he's already barking his order to the juniors

"don't let the fucker touch her, i want you guys on her all night. ay pero no so pasan shingado"

before mayo can reach out to you fucking kitty is wrapping his arm around you like "amonos bebe, what are you just doing here standing", not even acknowledging mayo's existance

you're like what the fuck, mayo is feeling these fucking bubbling jealous feelings

and benjamin fucking whips his head around to look at ramon like WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM and ramon is looking at benjamin like what is your FUCKING PROBLEM THE UFUCK

i missed this lol

[elmaxlys]

Vol 1 "Tango" - Chapter 1 (3/3)

Aki and Fusako's reaction:

2015: Je peux le faire moi-même ! (I can do it myself!)

2020: C'est à moi qui faut le dire, hein... (It's me you need to tell that to...)

I don't have much to comment on but I think it was an interesting change.

One word difference:

2015: Ah ben, c'était la même chose avec Shinya. (It was the same thing with Shinya)

2020: Ah ben, c'était la même avec Shinya. (It was the same with Shinya.)

Aki's language in 2020 is slightly more familiar, and I want to say it's more of a "young people" talk? As in my parents don't get it. "Why would you skip 'chose'??" as they always say.

The positions!! In red I highlight "position" and in blue, I highlight "posture"

2015: "Position": Posture de base pour les danses de salon : homme et la femme se font face et se tiennent par les mains et les bras. Position caractéristique des danses standards.

It seems there's a word missing, the determinant before "homme" lol

2020: "Posture": Position de base pour les danses de salon : l'homme et la femme se font face et se tiennent par les mains et les bras. Posture caractéristique des danses standards.

They fixed the missing determinant, nicely done~ But why would they invert each use of posture and position?? I find this quite funny!

The other type of dance's diploma:

2015: J'ai obtenu le diplôme de pro, je te signale !

2020: J'ai un diplôme professionnel, je te signale !

Nicely abbreviated for 2015 Suzuki but the phrasing is a mouthful and doesn't sound all that natural. (I want to say it's "diplôme de pro"'s fault)

2015: Suzuki: C'est déjà ça... Et toi, en latino ? - Sugiki: Je l'ai aussi, c'est déjà ça...

2020: Suzuki: ...plus ou moins... Et toi, en latin ? - Sugiki: ...plus ou moins aussi, oui.

2015 Suzuki is cocky and confrontational - at least that's how it's coming across to me lol - while 2020 Suzuki is more doubtful about his abilities to dance standard, calming down after his little outburst in the previous panel.

Le vouvoiement... from Suzuki???

2015: Alors... Suzuki: Tiens. - Sugiki: Venez.

2020: Bon. Suzuki: Tenez. - Sugiki: Venez.

It's been established that Suzuki uses the informal you to Sugiki!!! That's what he's been doing since earlier!! Why is he suddenly using the formal you?? 2020 Suzuki wtf!!!

Lead and Follow:

2015:

Suzuki: Bon. Je ferai la femme. (Well. I'll do the woman.) Sugiki: Je ferai la dame. (I'll do the lady.)

2020:

Suzuki: Ok. Je vais suivre, dans ce cas. (In that case, I will follow.) Sugiki: Je prends le rôle de la dame. (I'll play the lady's role.)

Biting shaking ripping.. I mean *coughs* Suzuki is coming across as less misogynistic in 2020 than 2015 lol - and if Sugiki's words don't change much in regard to follow/lady, they do still sound more refined in 2020.

Language familiarity:

2015: pas comme en standard

2020: contrairement au standard

2015 Suzuki uses a more familiar language than 2020 Suzuki, once again. Interestingly enough, when it comes to Aki, the only change so far was 2020 making her speak more familiarily.

The way Suzuki calls dicks???

2015: zigounette (o and u censored)

2020: bite (i censored)

So like. I only ever heard kids use zigounette? It sounds so childish to me, I can't believe they made Suzuki say that...

[tenshindon]

red-faced tien is my favorite genre of drawin, actually

[lettrespromises]

#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification. ──➤ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋!

─➤ @theastroooooworld​ 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 : ❝oi oi oi nikki ♡! i hope you are well as always. can i have hc's for Tanaka, Ushijima and Bokuto (separately) ? how would they behave with their childhood best friend who supports them since their beginning in volleyball but with whom they gradually fall in love ? thanks !!je t'aime tant, prends soin de toi et des tiens 🧡🌅❞ ─➤ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 : ❝my dearest cam,  forgive me for the terrible, terrible sense of never being on time but i’ve heard this letter comes at the right time (hopefully this letter will help a tiny bit while you’re healing.) je t’aime fort fort, prends soin de toi (et de ton tibia et de tes cervicales) et des tiens! sealed with a magic kiss to blow your pain away,�� nikki.❞

──➤ 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 : Tanaka, Bokuto and Ushijima gradually fall in love with their childhood best friend. ─➤ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : mentions of a nose bleeding.

──➤ Tanaka Ryuunosuke sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Despite his flamboyant sense of worship for Kiyoko, Tanaka does not know how to handle emotions, romantic ones, that is. Sure, he (alongside with Nishinoya) are willing to kiss each centimeter of concrete blessed by Kiyoko’s footsteps, but despite his burning passion, Tanaka is rendered into a stuttering mess when the attention is focused on him.

He has hidden and sometimes projected his blooming crushes for other people onto proves of love for Kiyoko, and in that sense, knowing he could solely focus his attention on her brought him a sense of security because he is so scared of the unknown, especially romantically-wise.

Hence why, whenever he would find himself appreciating someone who wasn’t Kiyoko a bit too much to his own liking, he would bury that feeling deep down and instead transform these hushed sentiments into demonstrations of love for his one and only goddess. 

However.

Sometimes, feelings tend to be a bit stronger when they are mixed with nostalgia, that is, childhood nostalgia. Truth be told, you, Tanaka and Noya were always found together... And often in the worst scenarios (just like that one time you and Ryuu were waiting for Nishinoya and you had to help Tanaka contain all the blood leaking from his nose at the sight of the bombshell accompanying Nishinoya’s grandfather.) 

Surely enough, Tanaka had always seen you like the equivalent of Nishinoya, meaning that he would confess every little secret locked in the back of his mind, even those including Kiyoko. 

Your presence was comforting, and he always considered you extra fuel to animate his fire whenever you would watch him during practice (and you were the first to throw an empty bottle straight to his head whenever he would throw his shirt off after scoring an impressive bottle.)

But in a very, very dramatic way, Kiyoko found herself become gradually set free of Tanaka’s romantic antics and devotion which led her to question the cause of all of this— despite her dislike for any kind of grandiose display of devotion, the fact Tanaka had started to stop giving her attention was a huge red flag regarding his state.

She hesitated to go talk to Nishinoya, but she was expecting to be met with no serious answer, and instead, just watch him drool during several minutes. 

She, thus, went to the next best person who would be able to comprehend this sudden switch in attitude: you, and your lifelong experience regarding Tanaka.

You were undoubtedly quizzical, but things took another turn when Tanaka himself showed up around the corner of the gym, and an uncharacteristic blush crept on his cheeks, Kiyoko took it as a clue to leave you alone.

“Is there anything you wanted to tell me, Ryuu? Are you sick or anything? You haven’t been, you know, following Ki—“

“I like you a whole lot. A lot. Like, a lot.” He confessed, his body was rigid but his eyes testified of all the love he had for you.

You couldn’t help but allow a soft giggle to break free from your lips, “does that mean you’re going to be worshipping me now?”

And as soon as the words died on your lips, his dropped on one knee, and delicately reached for your hand which he enveloped with his palms and soon smothered with love-infused pecks. “Anything for you, my beautiful divinity. I’ve been waiting for this day since we were kids, now I got to worship you everyday, the sunshine of my life.”

──➤ Bokuto Koutarou sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Before Akaashi came in the picture, you’ve always been his pilar, his rock, his pivot, his safe person. Bokuto soon learned to identify you as the person he could go to if anything were to happen.

You knew firsthand how to handle his emo mode since you were kids, and as a child, Bokuto would make himself appear look sad on purpose just so you could focus your attention on him and smoother him with love and kind touches.

Years later, this side of his personality never faded away, but never did your calming antics, nor did you stop always keeping an eye out on him during practice.

Bokuto expressively asked you to be the manager of the team, he said it was to “give you the best seats in the house to admire the way of the ace”, but truthfully, you were the fuel to the fire burning like an inexorable inferno within him.

You and Akaashi completed one another perfectly to find a balance for Bokuto, but at times, when Bokuto would find himself being overwhelmed by sad thoughts on the court, Akaashi would always suggest him to look at you, sitting on the benches.

It had become a ritual, each time Bokuto felt nervous or tortured by his own emotions, his shining golden orbs would find your frame, and a smile on your end was enough to make him feel at peace again. And that, ever since Bokuto started playing volleyball.

One day, during training, Bokuto had ententered a severe streak of shots, and each time the ball slammed the ground loudly in victory, his eyes darted on your form to study your reaction. He started doing anything to impress you since that day, even the silliest things like carry all the water bottles for you until (inevitably) tripping on the ground.

But striking for your attention and validation over and over again also meant that his emo modes were going to be even more intense too.

As his palm slapped the surface of the ball into a diagonal strike, his body shifted in a straight position, thus transforming the shot into a straight line.

The whines of protest were already leaving his lips, and soon enough his entire body language testified of how his emotions got the best of him: his shoulders were slumped, the tips of his hair faced down, his brows were weakly furrowed. It was a crisis situation.

“Agaaaashehhh! Can you get me Y/N, pleaaaase? I feel like I’m gonna melt and freeze at the same time.” Bokuto pleaded, his golden orbs were glossy under the gathering of the salty pearls in the corner of his eyes.

Without wasting more time, Akaashi jogged to you, and quickly explained the situation with a hint of worry in his tone which was unsual for him.

Your palm brushed Bokuto’s back in a soothing manner, only to find yourself prisoner of his embrace as his forelimbs found shelter on the small of your back, the tip of his nose nestled in the crook of your neck.

“Y/NNNN, I can’t even do diagonal shots anymore... It’s, like, my body goes for diagonal but I keep on hitting straight lines, I feel so dumb and useless...” His words were accompanied by whines of discontent, clearly indicating that this emo situation was more alarming than the others.

Your palm rubbed invisible shapes on his back in a soothing manner, humming at his confessions, “I can’t do anything right, can’t hit diagonal shots, can’t be a good captain, can’t even confess to you that I’ve loved you since day one.”

An angel passed.

“Kou, did— were you serious?”

“Does that mean you don’t like me? ‘S fine, I swear.” He now had his state focused on you, eyes as glossy as ever, and it took you all the strength in the world not to soothe his pain away by smothering him with kisses.

“I like you too, Kou, as big as the sky.” You offered him a genuine smile, your palms having moved to cup his palms while your thumbs were brushing the skin of his cheeks.

The tips of his hair immediately quirked up, and his signature grin throned once more amongst his facial features : “Wooooah! As big as the sky? That’s so big, sunshine! Guess what? I love you as big as the court!”

Another giggle found its way past your lips, soon quieted by the way your planted a peck on his cheek, “That’s a lot, Kou, more than I could’ve ever hoped for.”

And as Bokuto cradles you in his embraces, he excitedly stares at Akaashi who has a hint of a smile on his face, jumping a bit over the excitement.

“Kou, I know you’re happy and all but it’s hard to keep up with your hug if you’re jumping all over the place.”

“My bad, sunshine, you just make me so happy, ya know?”

──➤ Ushijima Wakatoshi sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

Now, I have already stated that Ushijima is not emotionless, rather he decides whether or not something or someone is worthy of the reveal of his emotions. And only three things fit on this list: Tendou, volleyball and yourself.

You actually met Ushijima as a child at an art discovery class for children. Ushijima had isolated himself from the rest of the children because the remarks of his mother were still ringing loud and clear in his head, but when you approached him and complimented how unique of an approach his left hand offered, he was over the moon (not that he showed it though.)

Much like Bokuto, Toshi is the kind of person to associate someone as his safe person, someone he can go to if needed, or at least feel their presence for reassurance. Needless to say, you are this person to Wakatoshi, always have been since the first doodles you’ve shared together.

In his case, Tendou actually pushed you to be the manager of the team, remarking that your presence would probably motivate Ushijima even more and make him more grounded if he had someone to hold on to during games.

To this day, you’ve always stayed late after practice and watched over Wakatoshi, spike after spike, serve after serve, until his fingers were bleeding and the moonshine outshone the neons of the gym.

You always carried medical tape with you, because you knew he was always bound to push behind his limits, only because he knew that you’d always be there for him, which happened to be true.

Now, now. Wakatoshi does know what feelings are, he knows how to recognize them kinesthetisically and tends to do mental notes of how people manifest their own emotions. Thus, he starts to notice the way his stomach creates knots whenever you’re in the same vicinity.

After training, Tendou finds him reading ads in the latest Jump edition, but Ushijima is quick to interrogate him : “Ah, an ad for plant medicine. Do you reckon this would help my stomach ache, Tendou?”

Tendou blinks once, then twice “Mhm, ‘depends on what kind of stomach ache we’re talking about here, Wakatoshi-kun.”

“It‘s odd. It’s not so much painful but it always happens when Y/N is near me.”

Tendou wipes an inexistent tear away in a dramatic manner, “Toshi-kun, you’re not sick at all, you’re in love.”

Since this sudden realization, Wakatoshi tends to avoid you because he believes that despite the sweet nature of this feeling, this stomach ache is taking a bit too much space to his liking.

He realizes soon, however, that the longer he waits, the worse it becomes.

After practice, and in an ever so natural manner, Ushijima grabs your wrist, and sends a glare to the rest of the team in order to silently tell them to leave the gym now that practice is over.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for taking some of your time so suddenly, I hope I did not startle you.” His grip on your wrist fades away slowly, and you offer him a hint of a smile.

“Don’t worry, Toshi, you’re all good.”

“I requested your presence because it seems I have developed feelings for you.”

A vivid blush colors the apples of your cheeks, your mouth is set agape for a few agonizing seconds: “You think or you know?”

“I don’t know.” He replies, and there’s a hint of disappointment in himself at the lack of retrospection on his end.

“Well, let me help you then.” Your palm is now enveloping his cheek in a loving hold, whilst your lips plant a lingering kiss on his opposite cheek, leaving Wakatoshi at loss for words.

“I, um, I’m positive now. I truly have feelings for you.”

[dindjarindiaries]

Seeing Red

summary: When Javier finds you, a journalist, on your way to meet with an informant, he accompanied you for safety—but ends up getting involved in the face of jealousy. (requested by @arrowswithwifi)

note: translations included at the bottom

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

warnings: swearing, uncomfortable touching, non-descriptive sexual content

rating: R

word count: 3.612k

masterlist

You look at yourself in the full-body mirror with a sigh, smoothing out the satin texture of the all-too-tight red dress you’re forcing yourself to wear tonight. You’re much more comfortable in your pantsuits and pencil skirts, but you know you’re going to have to show off your assets if you want to get anything out of your informant—as displeasing as the thought is to you.

You’ve been working as a journalist in Colombia for a while now, having flown down to get coverage of the Pablo Escobar crisis for the papers back in the States. In order to create your stories, you obviously need information, and typically you approach the key people who happen to live in your apartment building—but they’ve been unusually silent lately, not giving you so much as a crumb. This means you’ll have to get something on your own, and you’ve managed to plan a meeting with someone on the inside. You know they’re going to give you at least a little something no matter what, but you figure that dressing up like this and embracing your flirtatious side may give you just the bonus you need to create your best story yet.

Your mind momentarily wanders back to the men in your building. Your next-door neighbor, Javier Peña, is a DEA agent, and his partner Steve Murphy lives just upstairs. They became quickly acquainted with you due to your forwardness in asking them for information about Escobar, and you’d even consider them friends at this point. Often, you’ve gone out for dinners and drinks, talking about life back in the States and the chaos of living in the drug-ruled city of Medellín. They’ve started to become used to you knocking down their doors after a long day of work, asking for the latest in news. In the unique events when you have information that they don’t, you also tell them about it, and that’s how your exchange stays alive.

Javier’s the one who always gives you the most information, and he’s typically the first person you approach with new material. The first time you came by his apartment and told him you had something, he thought you’d also ask for something else in return—it’s what he was used to with his informants. With hot cheeks, you’d assured him that you didn’t need anything from him, and that it was simply a favor for all the things he’d given you already. Javier was taken aback by the sheer purity of the act, and that’s how your regular hangouts at Javier’s started happening. Even if he didn’t have anything, he just enjoyed your company, and vice versa. You can tell it’s been hard for him lately to not tell you anything, but you’re almost certain that’s because of strict orders he has to follow, or the risk of a leak ruining everything for them. You may be hungry for information, but not hungry enough to completely wreck everything they’ve worked for.

Your time spent with Javier has made you think—think more than you should. You evidently know what he has to do with his informants, or when he’s trying to cope with all the darkness he witnesses on a daily basis. You’ve seen the women come in yourself, and one time saw them just a few clothing items away from engaging in the act right outside his door. It’s been a while, though, since Javier’s brought anyone in, and you assume it’s because of the business at the embassy. Based on their secretive nature, it seems as if they’re getting a lot of good stuff that doesn’t make Javier have to do what he usually would, which is just fine for you—because you’re thinking of him. A lot more than you should. But you know you’re not occupying that same headspace for him, so you keep things the way they are.

You blink these thoughts away with your made-up lashes as you check your heels, glad that you’re familiar with at least one item you’re donning tonight. Giving yourself one last red-lipped smile of confidence, you grab your purse and head out the door, turning around to lock it behind you. As soon as you take a step towards the exit, you nearly bump right into someone else, their familiar scent of cologne mixed with smoke infiltrating your thoughts once again without hesitation.

“Sorry, Javi,” you apologize, hoping he’ll move on quickly and not notice your over-dressed appearance.

“Hey, you—” Javier begins, taking a step back to face you fully. Upon observing you completely, Javier’s dark eyes widen just a bit, his gaze involuntarily raking up and down your body. The act feels sacred, and your cheeks grow hot with a temperature that rivals the Medellín summer night. Your knees practically give out when he licks his lips before speaking again. “Wow. This is… different.” His voice is lower than you’ve heard it before, and you’re certain you’re about five seconds away from passing out.

It’s just Javi, you remind yourself. He loves the female body like all men do. That’s it—it’s just what he’s seeing on the surface. Knowing you can’t let him distract you from what you have to do, you simply offer a shrug and a smile. “Just thought I’d finally put this dress to use.”

Javier takes a step closer to you, his dark gaze glittering with an emotion you can’t identify as his fingers fumble with his aviators. “And who’s the lucky guy?”

You furrow your brow. “What do you mean?”

Javier chuckles, looking down for a moment as he stops just in front of you. He looks back up with an amused expression. “I’ve known you long enough to know that you wouldn’t just go out for a casual night in a dress like this.”

You bite your lip, trying to think of a lie but not being able to. Javier is a DEA agent, after all—interrogating is one of his specialties. “It’s not a date,” you reassure him. “It’s… a meeting.”

Javier raises an eyebrow. “What kind of meeting?” His voice is low again, and there’s an edge of darkness to it.

“With an informant,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “I need something, and you and Steve can’t tell me anything, so I’ve contacted someone else from the inside and they’re going to give me some info.” You finally gain the faith to look back at Javier, seeing that his mouth’s fallen open in slight surprise and curiosity.

“Who is it?” Javier demands, his voice failing to hide his sudden concern.

“Someone whose friend works for Escobar,” you answer, keeping your voice low just in case someone else is listening.

Javier’s eyes nearly pop out of his head at that, and he takes another step closer to you. “And you were just going to go meet them, alone, with absolutely no backup or weapons?”

You tilt your head up at him. “He seems trustworthy. He’s willing to give up the information for the sake of the city—he wants to see it get better.”

Javier lets out a frustrated chuckle, running a hand through his hair as he turns away from you for a moment. “Fuck, they all could say that. And there’s a big chance he will want something in return. You can’t go in there alone.” He looks back at you, both of his hands on his hips as he presses his lips into a firm line. “Look, why don’t I come with you, and I’ll just sit further away in case something happens. Alright?”

You sigh, looking deep into Javier’s concerned gaze. You can tell that he’s worried for you, and his words are true—there’s potential for you to get hurt in this scenario. So, you give him a nod, crossing your arms in a self-conscious effort to cover the cleavage your dress is revealing. “Sure.”

Javier offers a satisfied smile, turning on his heel to walk with you out of the building. He insists upon taking his car to the bar just in case you end up having to chase yourselves away from the situation, and after a ride filled with tense silence—a tension you can’t identify—you soon arrive to the bar. You let Javier walk inside first, letting him have quite the head start before you enter yourself. Your eyes scan the bar for your informant, who you soon spot sitting next to an empty stool. I can do this, you encourage yourself. You pucker your lips a few times to keep your lipstick fresh and saunter your way over to him, letting your hips sway a bit more than usual before you take your seat beside him.

“Hola, Rícardo,” you greet, giving him a smile as you hop up onto the stool.

“¡Ah! La encantadora María,” Rícardo remarks using your alias, his eyes examining you in the same way Javier’s did before—but making you feel much more uncomfortable. You can tell it’s just sole lust for what you’re showing off, whereas Javier’s was… different. Or maybe you’re just trying to convince yourself of that. “Tenía miedo de que huberias perdido—o que ya no quisieras verme.”

“No, señor, eso no es posible,” you assure him. “He estado muy emocionada por verte.” You keep a flirtatious smile on your lips as you speak, causing Rícardo to smirk back and lean a bit closer to you. He waves to the bartender, instructing him to bring you a drink, and once it’s in hand you try to get down to business. “¿Qué tienes para mi?”

Rícardo comes close, allowing the hand that’s not wrapped around his drink to brush against your waist as his lips brush against your ear. “Tengo muchas cosas para usted, señorita.” You fight the urge to slap his hand away, instead playing along with a giggle as you tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. “Pero puedo empezar con la información que quiere.”

“Perfecto.” You snake your hand into your purse, turning on the tape recorder you’ve hidden in it as you begin to prompt him. “¿Qué me puedes contar de Escobar?”

“Necesito una cosita primero, María.” You raise an eyebrow, hoping the gesture is suggestive and not questioning. “Quiero que me prometas algo.”

“¿Qué quieres que te prometa?” You keep your gaze from seeking out Javier in sudden unease.

Rícardo’s hand brushes further up your side, almost touching your breast before he slides it back down. You try not to shiver at the unwanted touch, instead returning his gaze with the most convincing look of interest you can muster. “Que me permitas ver tu hermoso cuerpo—sin el vestido.”

Your mind freezes, and you try not to make that obvious on the outside. Javier was right: this man did want something out of you. Still, you find yourself debating whether or not to oblige—Javier did this all the time, didn’t he? If he could, then so could you. This information could be vital to not only keeping your job, but also reducing the amount of influence Escobar has on the world.

You bite back a smile, deciding to take the risk as your fingertips brush over his cheek. “Ese era el plan, señor.” Rícardo chuckles, his gaze darkening with lust as you take a sip of your drink. “Entonces, ¿Qué sabes de—?”

You’re unable to get the question out as you soon feel an arm wrap around yours, forcing you off of the stool. “¡Mi amor! ¿Qué mierda es esto?” Javier’s voice snaps, and you stare up at him in disbelief. “¿Pensaste que no te encontraría?” You’re too shocked to say anything, and Javier looks at Rícardo, who’s watching with just as much surprise as yourself. “Lo siento, señor. Ella puede ser muy mentirosa.” With that, Javier soon tugs you in the direction of the exit, and the second he gets you both into the car, you’re expressing your red-hot emotions.

“What the fuck, Javi?” you exclaim, grabbing his leather jacket to shove him back in his seat. “He was just about to tell me something!”

“What do you mean, ‘What the fuck?’ I just saved your ass!” Javier insists, revving the car to life and driving away.

“How? Nothing was even happening!”

“He was touching you!”

“And I was handling it just fine, wasn’t I?”

Javier shakes his head, letting out a frustrated breath. “I know you didn’t like it, and I could read his lips—he wanted to fuck you!”

“And so what, Javier?” Your voice is full of venomous anger as you spit the words at him. “What if I did fuck him? What’s it to you?”

“That’s—you—no! What the fuck is wrong with you? You shouldn’t just do that!”

You scoff, leaning back in your seat with frustration. “El comal le dijo a la olla.”

Javier’s silent at that, his jaw clenching as his fists grip the steering wheel with more force. You reach inside your purse to turn the tape recorder off, grimacing at the waste of tape you’ve just used up. The silence between the two of you persists for a while, but soon Javier manages to piece some words together. “I couldn’t let you do that.” Javier’s voice is a bit calmer, but you can still hear the stress behind it.

“And why not?” You look over at him, seeing the tension in his shoulders as his gaze stays glued to the road. “Because you want me on your body count first?”

There’s a dark flash across Javier’s eyes, and he bites his lip to keep himself from speaking further. You let out another scoff as he parks the car in front of the building, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I knew it.” You make your anger and disappointment evident as you reach for the door handle, letting yourself out and hurrying back inside the building. You’re so enveloped by your anger that you don’t realize how closely Javier’s pursuing you, and as you unlock your apartment and step inside, he squeezes his way in behind you and closes the door with a secure lock. Quickly, he’s facing you again, his gaze revealing honesty as he finally speaks.

“It’s because you don’t deserve to be used like that,” Javier says, the words coming out in a fast and almost panicked stream. “You’re a beautiful, intelligent, and caring person who shouldn’t have to sell their body and their values for some shit on a drug lord.” He pauses, snaking his fingers through his hair anxiously before he continues. “You’re better than me, and I can’t let you make the same mistakes I have—that I regret. Heavily. You… you mean too much to me.”

Your jaw drops at Javier’s words, and you search his gaze to see if this is all a façade. But you know it isn’t—and Javier’s uncharacteristically nervous nature is enough to tell you that. His dark eyes are begging you to believe him, his chest rising and falling just a bit more quickly than usual. Your heart pounds in your chest at the realization: you’d been right before, when he’d first admired you. The thoughts you’ve been having are reciprocated, and that’s why his informants haven’t been appearing. Deciding to play along for a while, you bite back a smile, taking a step closer to him. “You were jealous, weren’t you, Peña?”

Javier clears his throat, looking anywhere but in your eyes as he tries to release his answer. “Maybe.” His voice sounds uncertain, as if he’s hoping that’s the answer you’re looking for.

“Oh.” You shrug up at him, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as you see his eyes lock back into yours. “Well, if you were, I could’ve accepted that justification, because you happen to mean a lot to me, too—and I’ve had my fair share of the same feeling over your informants.” Javier lifts an eyebrow, and you flash him a sly smile before turning away from him. “But since you’re so unsure of whether that’s the reason why, then I guess you must be lying to me.” You walk towards your kitchen counter, letting your hips move in the same way they had at the bar as you set your purse down onto the countertop. You turn around to face him once again, resting a hand on the counter and the other on your hip as you stare back at him. “Or you can prove it.”

Javier’s stunned for a moment, staying in place before he dares to take a few steps forward. “Prove it?” he echoes, his voice low. “How so?”

You give another shrug, turning so that both your elbows are resting on top of the counter. Your fingers pick at the strap of your purse. “Maybe you should ask your informants, ¿sí?”

You hear Javier’s footsteps approach you, and soon his fingertips are gently pulling your chin around to face him. His dark gaze is mixed with at least a thousand emotions, and you watch as it observes you once again in your dress and then comes back to meet your own. “¿Qué quieres, querida?”

You stand up straight to fully face him, letting your hand rest on the sliver of tanned chest he’d left exposed by the few loose buttons on his shirt. Your gaze lifts back to his, where you see the lust taking over. “A ti, amor—y tu corazón.”

Javier lifts a hand to brush against the side of your face, his face leaning down closer and closer until his lips are brushing over yours. “Ya tienes ambos, hermosa.” His voice falls to a gruffly hushed whisper as he continues, his gaze looking intensely into your own. “But you can have more.”

You raise an eyebrow in response, unable to stop your smile as Javier finally seals his lips against yours. The feeling is one of sweet relief, deep love, and hot lust, sending your mind into a frenzy as your hands grip the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. His hands are all over your body—wherever he can put them, the places he’s always wanted to touch—and yours become lost in his thick hair, giving it a pull whenever he offers a squeeze. Your tongues start to dance like the cool breeze in the hot Medellín night, leaving you gasping for air when you finally separate. His forehead rests against yours as you smile at him, feeling him lift you up as you wrap your legs around his waist. He starts off in the direction of your bedroom, but you’re distracted by the sight of his lips—completely reddened by your lipstick.

“Red’s a great color on you,” you tease, biting your lip as you giggle.

Javier lets out a chuckle, easing you down onto the bed until he’s hovering over you—leaving barely any space between you. “Not as great as it looks on you,” he remarks lowly, one of his fingers fumbling with the thin strap of the dress. “Too bad it’ll have to come off.”

You raise an eyebrow at that, bringing your mouth back to his as the world blurs around you. Everything’s forgotten except for Javier—your anger, your clothes, the goddamn heat from this humid Colombian night—as you just absorb him, feel him, finally having him for yourself like you’ve wanted to. No longer fearing that you’re just another number on his body count, you let yourself get lost in the experience Javier has to offer, his actions revealing his skill as you feel yourself ascending to an entirely new level of pleasure.

When you’re trapped between the sheet of the bed and Javier’s hot skin, you truly can’t think of anything but him. The way he feels, the way he moves, it’s no surprise that the only thing coming off your lips is his name, over and over like a sacred chant. His breaths of your name between his obscenities sound like a song, flowing out to the beat of your racing heart and moving bodies. The air gets hotter, the song moves along faster, and you feel everything building up into a crescendo as you try to hide your face in Javier’s slickened neck. Instead, he takes a hold of your face in one of his hands and crashes his lips against yours. You feel as if you’ve finally lost yourself in the heat of it all as his mouth absorbs the sounds you make, your hands desperately holding onto him as if he’s the one grounding you back into reality. Once he does the same and the song starts to slow back down, Javier collapses next to you, his swollen lips leaving a trail of delicate kisses from your forehead to the tip of your nose.

“If this is what being jealous gets me,” Javier begins to joke, “then I can’t wait to see what the good shit will bring.”

You let out a breathy laugh, brushing your nose against his. “Pull another stunt like that, Peña, and I’ll fuck you up a different way.”

Javier chuckles, shrugging off your aggressive quip by bringing his mouth back to yours, reminding you of the reason why you’ll always be able to forgive him so easily.

translations:

¡Ah! La encantadora María = Ah! The lovely Maria

Tenía miedo de que huberias perdido—o que ya no quisieras verme. = I was afraid that you got lost, or that you didn’t want to see me anymore.

No, señor, eso no es posible = No, sir, that’s not possible

He estado muy emocionada por verte. = I’ve been so excited to see you.

¿Qué tienes para mi? = What do you have for me?

Tengo muchas cosas para usted, señorita. = I have many things for you, miss.

Pero puedo empezar con la información que quiere. = But I can start with the information you want.

¿Qué me puedes contar de Escobar? = What can you tell me about Escobar?

Necesito una cosita primero, María = I need one little thing from you first, Maria

Quiero que me prometas algo = I want you to promise me something

¿Qué quieres que te prometa? = What do you want me to promise you?

Que me permitas ver tu hermoso cuerpo—sin el vestido. = That you let me see your beautiful body, without the dress.

Ese era el plan, señor = That was the plan, sir

Entonces, ¿Qué sabes de—? = So, what do you know about... ?

¡Mi amor! ¿Qué mierda es esto? = My love, what the fuck is this?

¿Pensaste que no te encontraría? = You thought I wouldn’t find you?

Lo siento, señor. Ella puede ser muy mentirosa. = I’m sorry, sir. She can be very deceitful.

El comal le dijo a la olla = the pot calling the kettle (basically: look who’s talking)

¿Qué quieres, querida? = What do you want, dear?

A ti, amor—y tu corazón = You, love, and your heart

Ya tienes ambos, hermosa = You already have both, beautiful

[grimmjowkurosakidrake]

Hermoso

Summary: For the @soulmatebingo “Phrase in native language” 

Keith gets the word “Hermoso" tattooed on his throat. Lance, instead, gets the word “Idiot” tattooed at the back of his neck.

Length: 2347 words

Relationships: Lance (Voltron)/Keith (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) & Shiro (Voltron)

Warnings: Implied depression, implied low self esteem issues

Also, just a quick reminder that you can commission me at @witcheswritings

Keith is thirteen on his fourth day at the Garrison when the word «Hermoso» writes itself deeply into his throat.

He doesn’t know when it happens exactly, one day he’s mark-less and then suddenly he’s seeing the bold, cursive letters, written there, glaring back at him from the mirror in the boys’ bathroom when he’s done washing his hands.

There’s no way he can hide this, it’s the first thing that comes into his mind when he sees it. Small hands tracing the words with slow, hesitant touches. 

It’s almost like his soulmate wants everyone to see these words, to know that he’s... hermoso, whatever that means. 

Keith is not so eager for the world to see these words, however.

He would have to wear high collars or scarfs for the rest of his life if he ever thought about covering this mark. But even when there’s no need for him to try and conceal it, as the school doesn’t have any rules against soulmate tattoos, he still feels the need to hide it from the everyone around him.

There’s someone out there now, his soulmate, who’s noticed him or met him for the first time and those thoughts are now tattooed into his throat.

A deep blush travels from his face to his collarbones at the idea. His soulmate is somewhere around the Garrison, and these foreign words are their first thoughts about him.

“Hermoso.” He tries to say with great difficulty, not really sure in how to roll the r in between the word. It ends up sounding awkward and he wonders if his soulmate will teach him how to say it, someday.

Will his soulmate reach out to him? 

A part of him wants them to, another part it’s almost afraid.

☰☰

Shiro smiles when he sees the mark on his throat, the older boy engulfs him in a warm hug, honestly happy for him. “My Spanish may be a little rusty.” Admits Shiro, kissing the top of Keith’s head even against the boy’s loud protests. “But I’m almost sure it means beautiful.”

The Garrison’s junior officer looks directly into his eyes as he says this.

“That can’t be” Mumbles Keith, rising the high collar of his uniform up at his chin. Beautiful is what you call flowers, butterflies, and pretty girls. It’s how his father used to talk about Keith’s mom.

“I don’t think I’m wrong.” Shiro smiles indulgently, opening the zipper of his jacket until his tattoo is clearly visible. “I think your soulmate thinks you’re beautiful and that’s fine.” He states. “That is exactly how love is supposed to be.”

“Do you have a mark?” Asks Keith, his little hands wrapping around his throat almost on instinct.

“Yes.” Answers Shiro, lifting the sleeves of his jacket, there, on his wrist the words «Cute Smile» sit comfortable like they belong. 

He does have a cute smile, it’s bright and reassuring all the same. The smile of a true leader.

Keith smiles hesitantly. “It’s true.” He admits, Shiro’s smile makes him feel right at home, safe, like there’s nothing wrong in the world even when everything clearly is.

“Then maybe you can be beautiful.” Counters the officer, tapping the top of his nose. “Your soulmate surely thinks so.”

☰☰

Lance is thirteen when he enters the academy; He’s away from his family, he’s miles away from the sea and he’s afraid that he will never make friends with anyone.

But he can feel the space at the tips of his fingers now, his dreams are closer to him now and even if he’s not the space hero protagonist he imagined he’d become as soon as he entered the academy, he knows this is a step closer to his future as pilot.

Four days into the academy, they do weapon training.

It’s a safe begginer’s practice for the most part; they start with blunt weapons as their instructor coldly tells them that there’s no way they can hurt themselves with them, that these weapons are harmless.

Lance can’t help but think that he’s lying, after all, weapons are weapons, specially under the wrong hands. 

But he stays silent.

The people at the Garrison obviously want them to get started on safe battle grounds because more than anything, they will be soldiers.

It should be easy, they give them blunt weapons of choice, ranging from brass knuckles to even one big maze that only someone like Hunk should handle at their age.

“You’ll face robots and drones alike; they wont hurt you but they will charge at you, robots are one pointers, drones...” Explains one of his teachers, pointing at the top of the high ceiling where four drones are flying high about them. “Are two pointers. Try and take them on.” He taunts them.

It’s a lot of fun, for the most part. He’s not good with any of the weapons, not even the Bō -Staff, truth is, no one is. But all of them have fun trying, building camaraderie in their failure.

Because they all fail, until Keith.

The boys destroys three big robots with the Bō -Staff just three minutes after his time starts; using its weight and material to his advantage, he’s not superhuman by any means but he’s smart.

Then, he takes the Sai swords.

Without breaking a sweat, the boy runs towards the destroyed robots to propel himself to the high ceiling of the gymnasium at the Garrison, the swords twirling between his fingers before hitting the first drone, then, he uses the momentum to fall into the second drone and hit it too, it’s ridiculous. 

The difference in between Keith and the rest of them is enormous.

Around him, all of their classmates are glaring at Keith. There’s nothing wrong if they all fail, that means they need more training.

But if one of them passes in the way Keith is passing, then it means the rest of the class is behind. They’re jealous, bitter.

But Lance can’t help but think:

Él es hermoso, la forma en que se mueve, ágil y mortal. Como una pantera acechando a su presa.

It’s the first time he thinks of the boy. But it surely won’t be the last.

Keith is larger than life, a beautiful monster, oblivious to the world around him; even Lance. 

With time, everything he does, is with Keith on his thoughts. Maybe if he gets stronger, he will be at Keith’s level, maybe they will become partners, fighting and flying shoulder to shoulder.

Reaching the stars side by side.

Keith never notices him, or so he thinks, but a week into the Garrison, Lace gets his mark. The word «Idiot» tattooed into the back of his neck, forever.

But he doesn’t notice it until Hunk points it out when they’re changing clothes after gym hours.

“Lance!” He screams exited. “You got your mark!” Probably not even thinking about what  those words say.

Hunk has always been a romantic, in love with love, never thinking about how cruel it can be.

“Really?” Asks Lance just as exited. “What does it say?”

“Oh…” Whispers Hunk, his voice audibly less chipper.

“What?” Insists Lance. “C’mon, Hunk. Don’t put me on edge, big boy.”

“Idiot.” He finally says. “It says idiot.”

“Oh…” Mimics Lance, his voice disappointed but not actually surprised.

A few days later, just at the start of summer, he sees Keith’s mark for the first time.

☰☰

When he tells his family they try to lighten the mood. “Oh, honey.” Laughs his mom through the screen when he video-chats them about it. “Pobrecita tiene que haberte visto hacer alguna tontería.”

Lance chuckles “Pobrecito, mamá.” He corrects her, “my soulmate is a boy, you know.”

At his words, his mom brightens. “Oh!” She exclaims, “You know who he is!”

“Yes.” Responds Lance with a grimace marring his face. “He’s beautiful.”

His mother is happy for him; in fact, his whole family is. But Lance can’t help but feel resentful. This is what Keith thinks of him, his first impression of Lance and he thinks he’s an idiot.

They’ve never exchanged words, never even fought. How stupid can he be if that’s the first thought a complete estranger has of him?

He doesn’t tell Keith that they’re soulmates, he won’t force the bright, beautiful future prodigy of the Garrison to stuck with a stupid cargo pilot.

Then Keith drops out of the Garrison and he doesn’t have to pretend. Without Keith there, Lance doesn’t have to pretend that he’s not in love.

☰☰

When they meet again he notices that Keith no longer hides his mark, now, instead of the high collars and tight shirts at his neck, he wears a black shirt with a deep v neck, showing off both his throat and his collarbones.

“It means beautiful.” He supplies one day, boldly tracing the words on his soulmate’s throat. They’re sitting on Lance’s bed in his room at the castle.

 Besides Shiro, Keith has only been comfortable with Lance touching him, after so many physical fights and training together maybe he no longer minds having the cuban boy near him.

Without thinking, Lace’s hand reaches out to the back of his own neck. “I thought you were beautiful, back then.” He confesses. “Beautiful and deadly, like a panther.” Clarifies the brunette, chuckling “I guess I wasn’t wrong, mister red lion.”

“What does your mark says?” Asks the red paladin, hesitant. He knows that Lance has a mark, he probably already knows the obvious, rhat Lace and him are soulmates.

“You don’t remember?” He asks, his voice small, insecure.

Keith puts his legs over Lance’s own, resting his head on his shoulder. “My dad died a year before I entered the Garrison.” He articulates as if it explained anything. “Two months later I met Shiro and he encouraged me to apply.” His is voice small, barely a whisper. “He gave me a reason to keep on going. Suddenly I had a meaning, I was good at flying and at fighting, a natural soldier, but...” He pauses. “I wasn’t happy.”

“Keith…” Tries Lance, not really knowing what to say. 

Keith is not really explaining anything but his words are having an impact on Lance anyway. No matter the words tattooed on their skin, even if they weren’t soulmates, Lance knows that he loves the other boy and he would never want him to be unhappy.

Keith interrupts him before he can even voice his thoughts. “I don’t remember when, but you got yourself caught in a rope one day. You were on the ground, just a mess of limbs and rope and I laughed.” He smiles. “I laughed so hard that I cried a little.”

“Glad to be of service.” Mutters Lance, tangling long fingers on Keith’s unruly hair.

“I thought you were an idiot, such an idiot.” Keith whispers, moving into his lap, trying to get as close to Lance as possible. “And I laughed for the first since my father died.” He pauses for a moment, looking up to Lance, trying to gauge his reaction to his words. Lance smiles down at his soulmate. “It was the first thing I thought about you but it wasn’t the last.” He rushes. “I swear.”

“Yeah?” Asks Lance with a goofy grin painted on his face as he carefully removes a rebellious lock of dark hair from Keith’s face.

“You were always around people, always happy.” Smiles Keith. “I wish your mark was different.” He confesses. “You’re funny, you’re brave, you’re tenacious.” Keith pauses for a moment, just to take Lance’s hand with his own. “You make me happy.”

“I’m suddenly fine with my mark if this s what you make of it.” Jokes Lance, even when he knows that he’s lying.

The reality it’s that he’s never going to forget the disappointment and the resentment. He has spent at least four years of his time at the Garrison thinking that his soulmate thought him nothing but an idiot and for some time, he tried to convince himself that Keith was right.

“I hope that’s not true.” Argues Keith. “I’m sorry about your mark.” He apologies. “Especially when my mark is…” He chokes, holding his throat like a lifeline. “Especially when mine is the best thing that could even happen to me.”

“It’s not fine.” Lance confesses. “I really wish it was fine, that I could feel proud of my mark like you do.”

“I’m sorry.” Apologies Keith once again, his face contorting in anguish.

“But it doesn’t mean that what I felt about you has changed. It doesn’t mean that you’re not my soulmate or that I wish you weren’t my soulmate.” He continues, holding onto Keith’s hips and drawing the other boy closer to him.

In this position they’re almost the same height, chest to chest with Keith being a head taller than him for the first time ever. Lance doesn’t mind. No with Keith’s legs straddling him like this.

“I want to make it up to you.” Whispers the red paladin over his lips like a promise.

“You don’t have to.” Answers Lance, his mouth barely touching Keith’s.

Keith doesn’t answer, instead, he closes the gap in between, his lips closing around Lance’s own lower lip with a conteted sigh.

Both boys moan together as they kiss, they’ve been waiting for this moment, building up the tension and the attraction until neither of them could take it anymore.

With a sigh, Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s neck, his fingertips caressing the words hidden at the back of his neck. “You really make me happy.” He murmurs, kissing his soulmate again, the tip of his tongue seeking entrance shyly.

Lance smirks and opens his mouth, his own tongue meeting Keith’s before closing his lips over Keith’s lips. His hands sneaking under the shorter boy’s shirt, feeling the warm skin there.

“You make me happy, too, beautiful.” He whispers, settling a warm, kiss under his soulmate’s jawbone. “Realmente me haces feliz, hermoso.”

Keith sighs, his whole body falling into Lance’s arms, content there.

Safe.

[owakoblack-portspa]

(APH PortSpa) African Holiday

APH fan fiction. I do not own the characters.

Pairing: Portugal/ Spain, Spain/ Portugal

Pedro is the nation of Portugal and Antonio is the nation of Spain. For convenience, I use their human names instead of names of nations in this fiction. Pedro and Spain meet at Ceuta, a city in Africa.

African Holiday

On a very quiet night, a long-haired little boy was sleeping alone on a large, soft bed. Such a huge bed was more suitable for at least two boys lying on it, and sure enough, this boy lied on the right side of the bed, as if saving a place for somebody to sleep on the left side.

Suddenly, a knock on the bedroom door broke the silence, causing the boy in bed to wake. He did not get up at once, but simply turned onto the other side.

 “Disculpe, may I come in?” A sweet voice of a little boy called out beyond the door. Both the boys had dark-brown hair.

 The boy in bed reached out for a spare pillow lying on the left side of the bed, and pressed it upon his ear, trying hard to continue sleeping.

 “I can’t sleep, can I sleep with you?” The child outside the door raised his voice, and knocked more loudly.

 “How old are you? Can’t you sleep alone? It’s time to grow up!” The boy in bed finally replied.

 “Lo siento.”

 Since then, the boy outside the door never came again.

 In Ceuta, a harbour city on the northern tip of Africa, you can find everywhere talkative Spaniards, logos written in Spanish, products from Europe, flags in red and gold colours, and you feel there is no difference from Andalusia on the other side of the Mediterranean Sea. However, Africa is not Europe after all. It is much more significant to travel from continent to continent, rather than to travel from province to province, or from country to country.

 A barbería on the opposite of the port has no difference from most of the barberías on the Spanish mainland either: right now inside the barbería where Enrique Iglesias’ dancing songs were playing, a barber with a big beard was sweeping away hair left on the chair, while swaying to the music, cheerfully. It is a mystery that the Spaniards can keep excited all the time, perchance because of lovely sunshine, perchance because of the blue sea–it is a happy nation after all.

 As the wind chimes on the glass door of the shop rang merrily, the door opened, a cool sea wind blew in, and a tall young man walked inside. His long dark-brown hair was tied into a pony tail, a caramel jacket rounded his slim waist, and a pair of goggles hung on his well-built chest.

 “¡Buenos días! ¿Tiene una reserva?” As soon as the barber straightened up to see the young man’s face, his smile turned into a surprised look, “Dios mío, did I just trim Señor’s hair? How come it grows back even longer than before within a blink of an eye?”

 “Don’t worry, Señor Peluquero, I’m still here. I just paid at the counter.” Another young man touched the back of the barber from behind, and put both of his hands in front of his face to form a picture frame, “after trimming my hair, I’m as cool as a breeze!” The short-haired young man winked his light green eyes while smiling brightly, and incredibly, some stars fell out of the frame.

 “What a coincidence, Antonio. I just arrived from the port, and spotted you inside this barbershop.”

 “Isn’t it Pedro? I’ve never expected you here!”

 The confused barber turned his head to look at the picture-framing, short-haired young man, and then turned back to see the long-haired young man who just walked into the shop. He found that both of their faces and bodies exactly the same, even the colours of their hair, eyes, and skin the same too, as if God conveniently used the same colours from his colour palette to paint these two , except that He dotted a beauty spot under the right eye of the long-haired one, in order to distinguish from his twin. “You two are twins!” the barber exclaimed.

 “We are not twins!” the two young men protested in one voice.

 “So…you two are brothers who look much alike?”

 “We are just neighbours!” two men, one voice again.

 “Are you really just neighbours? I can tell from your appearances that you two are related by blood!” The barber stretched out his strong arms to bring both of the young men close together, and shouted to a girl at the counter. “Isabel, don’t you think they look much alike? Mira, mira,” the barber turned Pedro’s face towards Isabel, “when his pony tail couldn’t be seen from the front, even their hair styles are los mismos!”

 “Even so,” Isabel shrugged her thin shoulders, “los amigos have told you they ain’t bros, so they ain’t bros, are you thinking of helping people recover their long-lost familia?”

 “I see, it’s a matter of hair style.” Pedro mused, “por favor, Señor Peluquero, could you make a new hair style for me?”

 Half an hour later, Pedro’s long dark-brown hair was trimmed thin and made more stylish, which reached down his prominent collarbones.

 “Listo, as cool as a breeze!” Imitating Antonio, the barber put his hands to form a picture frame in front of Pedro, but this time there were no fallen stars, for Pedro did not wink, but instead smiled mildly to his mirrored self. “In this way, you two don’t look the same any more!” the barber admired his masterpiece happily, “Señor looks so handsome, bueno, guapo!”

 “Gracias, but I’m a navigator, it’s better for me to tie my hair while sailing at sea. However, today I have a holiday, and Antonio is beside me, let me forget the pony tail for a while.” He brushed gracefully his long hair with his hand, satisfied.

 After leaving the barbería, Pedro and Antonio walked leisurely in the direction of the old town. Pedro’s caramel jacket was again tied around his waist, and despite the hot African weather, he wore short black gloves. He and Antonio both wore short-sleeve shirts, and their opening collars revealed deep shapes of their chest cleavages.

 “Pedro, why are you in Africa?” Antonio walked a step ahead of the quiet young man, turning around to look at the other with his bright green eyes.

 “Me chame de Pedro, faz favor. In Portuguese, you should pronounce ‘Pedru’, instead of ‘Pedro’.” Pedro spoke in Portuguese–even though he had spoken fluent Spanish at the barber’s, he had got used to speak Portuguese to Antonio whenever they were alone.

 “Todo bien, ‘Pedru’. You know although I can understand Portuguese, I don’t speak it well.” Antonio continued to communicate with Pedro in Spanish, while the other spoke Portuguese.

 “Our ship is heading to a tall ship festival in Marseilles. When we crossed the Strait of Gibraltar, I thought of our past in Ceuta, so I stopped to visit here.”

 “Our past in Ceuta? You mean yours and mine?”  

 Pedro nodded slightly.

 Antonio began to feel anxious, deliberately avoiding Pedro’s gaze.

 When they were approaching the gate of the old town, they saw a huge coat of arms of the city which looked very similar to the Portuguese national coat of arms: in the middle of the red shield are five blue mini shields, surrounded by seven golden tiny castles.

 When they were about to cross the street, Pedro stopped short.

 “In Spain, you don’t have to wait for traffic lights all the time…” Antonio wanted to push him, but he found the Portuguese was gazing on a sculpture in the middle of the round-about. It was the sculpture of Prince Henry the Navigator.

 Pedro kept silent, but his emerald eyes spoke for him. In his eyes, there was a mixture of worship, nostalgia, and sorrow. Such a beautiful, bright young man was suddenly shrouded by sadness, just like the sun shadowed by dark clouds, and a cool breeze laden with salt.

 “Disculpe, I suddenly remember I have some important thing to do, can I leave?” Antonio tried to escape, but was stopped at once by another.

 “Don’t you go, you should be my tour guide.”

 “Even though you wish so, there is not much worth tour guiding…”

 Much against his will, Antonio led Pedro to a bastion east to the old town gate, which is one of the landmarks in Ceuta. An edge of the bastion extended gracefully into a moat circling the city, where deep blue seawater turned into emerald, and a big school of small fish attracted the attention of several migrant birds. Above the top of the bastion, a flag of blood and gold was flying proudly.

 Antonio noticed that Pedro was becoming more and more moody. He felt so guilty that he wanted to climb up the bastion to tear down the flag, if he could.

 At this moment, a pair of Asian twin girls went towards them.

 “Excuse me, do you speak English?”

 Antonio was not confident in his English, so he eyed Pedro for assistance.

 “How can I help you, beautiful ladies?” Pedro replied in British English, and later, according to these girls’ request, took photos for them. Antonio chuckled quietly, because he knew that Pedro had kind of “yellow fever”, for he had a particular passion for Asians, which had been one of the secret reasons why he had ventured so far away to Asia during the Age of Discovery.

 “May I ask if we could take photos together? We are all twins!”

 “Pero nosotros no somos gemelos…” Antonio tried to deny without a second thought, but these Asian girls did not understand his Spanish.

 “Certainly! Antonio, come here!” Apparently, Pedro was afraid of making the shy Asian girls embarrassed, so he did not deny he and Antonio being twins, and pulled the Spaniard to take photos together.

 “Can we ask a question about history?” the girls asked carefully.

 “Ask away, darlings.” Pedro winked, smiling.

 “Doesn’t Ceuta belong to Spain? Why are there so many Portuguese emblems here then?”

 “Umm, as for this question, it’s better to let Antonio explain, for he’s the local tour guide.”

 Antonio felt stressed, for it would be a challenge for him to explain the complicate history related to both Spain and Portugal in his “broken” English. It was obvious that Pedro wanted to make fun of him. However, if he cast the task back to Pedro, when recalling the past, would Pedro become sad again? Antonio did not feel like seeing that sorrowful face, so he began to explain slowly in English:

 “Ceuta was a part of Morocco long time ago. In the year of 1415, Prince Henry of Portugal conquered this military fortress…”

 “Excuse me, who was Prince Henry?” the girls asked.

 “He was a great navigator who started the Portuguese Age of Discovery. From then on, Portugal gradually discovered new sea routes. The new route to India discovered by Vasco da Gama was in fact the continuation of Prince Henry’s sea routes. In other words, if there were no Prince Henry, there would have been no Vasco da Gama, or even the Portuguese Empire. Perhaps Prince Henry is not as famous as da Gama worldwide, but for Portugal, he was the most important person.”

 The twin girls began to admire this prince, “How brave are the navigators to discover the unknown world!”

 “He is also a navigator.” Antonio pointed to Pedro, who was smiling in the shade of a tree. “Let me continue the history of Spain and Portugal. After the conquest, Portugal rebuilt Ceuta, so the city coat of arms contains Portuguese emblems. Between 1580 and 1640, Portugal was ruled by Spain. Many Spanish people migrated to Ceuta, so even after Portugal’s independence from Spain in 1640, Ceuta still sided with Spain. Finally in 1668, Portugal ceded Ceuta to Spain. Therefore, you can still see Spanish flags flying on the African continent today.”

 After the twin girls had left, Antonio and Pedro found all museums closed at noon. As the sun was becoming hotter, they had no choice but to sit down at an ice cream parlour by the seaside.

 It seemed that Pedro was exhausted by the hot weather, for even ice cream could not cheer him up. He kept silent and ate quietly without looking up at Antonio, which made Antonio unbearable. Finally, Antonio broke the ice:

 “Pedro, I want to say that I am sorry, for I have taken up the place you had cherished.”

 “Which place?” Pedro tucked his long hair behind his ear, and had another spoonful of ice cream.

 “This place, Ceuta.”

 Pedro fell silent again for a moment. Then, his head turned slightly towards Antonio, a pair of scorching eyes stared at the Spaniard fiercely behind long hair, and he said: “Now you know that you’re sorry, you know that…” he covered his mouth with a hand, as if trying hard to suffocate his moaning, “…you already know that Dom Henrique was the person I had most respected, most loved…and this place had been the first step where we began to explore the world…and yet, you…!”

 “Pedro…”

 “You were too strong, too powerful–so powerful that you swallow up everyone who were close to you…Aragon, Navarre, Granada…being your neighbour, you had no idea how hard I had tried to survive…and you still don’t know why I want to keep distance from you–you’ve never cared about others.”

 “…lo siento.”

 “…that’s why I set my knights guard against you on borders.” Pedro added.

 Antonio did not know how to reply, and Pedro lost the interest of continuing their conversation, so these two kept silent while watching the blue Mediterranean Sea and eating ice cream. After a while, two identical cats approached them for food, and they gave the cats ice cream respectively. Later, the cats curled up to sleep under their legs. It was time for siesta. The two young men bent on the table and fell asleep too.

 When Antonio woke up, he found himself alone, a caramel jacket covering his back.

 “Señor, did you sleep well? Your brother has already paid the bill.” A waiter came over and smiled at him.

 “When did he leave?”

 “About half an hour ago. He went in the direction of the port, perhaps to board a ship.”

 Hearing this, Antonio grabbed Pedro’s jacket at once, and ran towards the port.

 There were countless vessels from all over the world at the port, but Antonio had some clue for finding out Pedro’s ship.

 Sure enough, before long, he spotted a huge sail ship with three masts. Upon the white sails, there were red crosses of the Order of Christ.

 “Disculpe, is Pedro on this ship?” Antonio stopped a sailor who was about to board.

 “Which Pedro? We have many Pedros on the ship!”

 “He has long hair, and a spot under his right eye.” Antonio panted from running.

 “Let me think…” the sailor looked baffled.

 “Alright, he looks very much like me!” Antonio finally confessed.

 “Ah, I see!” the sailor turned around and shouted to the top cabins of the ship, “Captain, your little brother has come to see you off!”

 “I’m not his brother,” Antonio said quickly, “and I just come to return his jacket.”

 “Thank you for returning my jacket,” Pedro went down slowly from the ship. He wore a set of deep blue navy uniform, his long hair tied neatly behind. “By the way, I do recall that you had called me ‘mi hermano’ when you were a very little child, didn’t you?”

 “It’s not true, I had only called you by your birth name…it’s you who had called me ‘meu irmão’.”

“I’d never done that.”

 “Yes, you had.”

 When the siren was blown, Antonio knew that Pedro’s ship, Sagres, was about to set out. He raised his hands high in the air and waved happily towards Pedro, who was standing on the deck, watching him whom was down below.

 “¡Adiós, Lusitania!” Antonio smiled, brighter than the sun.

 –Lusitania, isn’t this Pedro’s birth name? Suddenly, some long-lost memory flashed back to Pedro’s mind.

 On a very quiet night, he was lying on a large bed sleeplessly. Suddenly, there was a knock on the bedroom door.

 “Lusitania?” a sweet voice of a boy called out.

 “Sim?” he replied lazily.

 Knowing the boy in bed was still awake, the boy outside opened the unlocked door, and went in.

“Can I sleep with you, Lusitania?” a pair of light green eyes was looking innocently at him.

 He opened his arms to the boy, and smiled mildly, “claro, meu irmão.”

 Long long time ago, Pedro had indeed called Antonio “my brother”, and only Antonio had called him by his birth name. Are they really not related by blood? They look so much alike, they had been so close, and nobody could understand them better than they understand each other. What made them separate from each other?

 Looking at the young man waving on the quay who had the same face as his, Pedro suddenly had an urge to touch, to embrace, and to merge with him–his brother. Before the ship started moving, he dashed down to the quay, and jumped onto Antonio.

 “Lusitania?”

 Pedro held Antonio tightly in his arms. Back lighted, his bright green eyes had never seemed so profound before, as if trying to convey millions of words. However, Pedro chose not to say a single word, but to kiss directly on Antonio’s petal-soft lips.

 Basking in orange light of the African sunset, the two brothers embraced and kissed each other for a long while, until eventually, Pedro broke the kiss and left silver saliva on his brother’s lips. Antonio looked at him, confused, intoxicated.

 “If we’re not brothers, I think it’s fine to kiss you.” Pedro smiled mildly.

 “Claro, we’re not brothers at all.” Antonio blushed, and kissed Pedro again.

[oscars-wifeyyy]

Chapter 3 (The Innocent)

The next day came around, Cesar, Monse, and Elizabeth were walking to school. The three were talking when Jamal and Ruby rode past them with their bikes.

“Get out the way,” Ruby called out as Jamal imitated a care engine.

Elizabeth chuckled, but gags when Cesar kissed Monse, “I love y’all, but don’t do that in front of me,”

“Eli, shut up,” Cesar rolled his eyes, “you and my brother probably do that when you’re alone,”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Elizabeth looked at him confused.

“Nothing,” Cesar shrugged as the three continued on their way to school.

Elizabeth was in class with Ruby and Olivia when the intercom came on with the announcements, “Attention, students. One last reminder to buy your tickets to tonight’s homecoming dance. A magical night of wonder, excitement, and romance can be yours for only $10.99,”

“So…” Ruby trailed off, “you going?”

“Yeah,” Olivia smiled, “Do you…”

“Do you…” Ruby started at the same time as Olivia, “you go first,”

“Do you need any underwear?” Elizabeth started laughing at the turn of events.

“What?” Ruby asked, horrified.

“ Your mom’s at Costco,” Olivia explained.

“Um…” Ruby turned to look straight, “I’m good,”

“Ok,” Olivia turned back to her phone, “also, they ran out of your gummy vitamins so your mom got you small easy to swallow pills. That cool?”

Ruby hummed in embarrassment while Elizabeth couldn’t breathe and began weezing at the turn of events. She had to contain herself when Ruby turned and glared at her so she looked down and took out her notebook with her lips sealed, but still let out a few laughs. The teacher arrived inside the class and began the lesson so Elizabeth listened and took notes as her eyes drifted towards the clock to see how long left until class is over.

Lunch came around and Elizabeth was the first one to get to the table with her food, she sat with her food in front of her and a book. A few pages turned and a couple bites into her food, the group finally came to the table so she put away her book and looked to the group, but an awkward pause passed.

“I’m wearing indigo tonight,” Ruby interrupted the silence, “I thought we should claim colors to avoid outfit clases. Indigo? Any objections?”

“Nah, Ruby. All you, man,” Elizabeth chuckled.

“Oh, and my pants have red pockets. I know, it sounds weird, but it works,” Ruby continued.

“What are the pockets for?” Olivia asked before she leaned towards Monse, “Roofies?”

The boys and Elizabeth looked at them weird, “so what time should we meet?” Cesar asked the group.

“Yeah, let’s get that in the books. More specific, the better,” Jamal said, “what are you guys thinking, like 8? 8:05? 8:10?”

“I’m gonna play it by ear,” Olivia replied, “I don’t think I’m feeling it,”

“What? Why?” Ruby asked.

“Not sure I’m in the mood to be objectified,” Olivia smiled sarcastically, “if I want to see boners, I’ll look online,”

“Didn’t you hear Principle Serge? Dance is a no-bone zone,” Jamal brought up the announcement.

“Are you kidding me? Dances are cesspools of bad behavior,” Cesar shook his head at Monse’s strategy, “I don’t wanna go,”

“Yeah, people get freaky, but what’s wrong with that?” Ruby shrugged, “I don’t get it,”

“Yeah, Monse. Why don’t you wanna go? Explain it to us. You were pretty excited this morning,” Cesar pried into Monse.

“That was before I remembered that dances are lame,” Monse glared at the boy, “and maybe we’re not in the mood,”

“Oh,” Ruby looked as if he realized something, “is it your menses?”

Elizabeth started laughing while Olivia looked at him weird, “her what?”

“Her lady pond runneth red,” Ruby said before Jamal hit him on his arm to stop.

“My what?” Monse glared at Ruby.

“What?” Ruby looked genuinely confused, “what am I saying wrong?”

“Everything!” The two girls exclaimed at the confused friend.

“You guys just don’t understand what it’s like to be a woman and treated like an object,” Monse looked at the guys, “we have hearts!”

“And minds,” Olivia added, “so take out any question that we’re going tonight. The answer is no. with a period, ‘cause that’s what it’s actually called,”

“Girls, let’s dine in a less hostile environment,” Monse stood up.

“You read my mind,” Olivia rolled her eyes.

“I gotta go anyway to finish some assignments,” Elizabeth chuckled as she grabbed her backpack, “I don’t know what happened, but I’ll see y’all later,”

The day went by as classes dragged on until the last bell rang and students flooded the halls to leave the place they personally called hell. Elizabeth was part of the last few people in the flood since she needed to go to her locker and pick up her homework, but when she walked out and saw the feared gang leader inside his beloved cherry red Impala. She wanted to turn back and exit through the back; however, he already saw her when he got out and leaned his back into the car, staring at her. The girl decided to try to ignore him and walk past without a glance. She was about to walk past until he gently held her right hand before she walked past.

“Mamita,” Oscar smirked at the girl, “you ain’t getting rid of me easy so get in the car,”

Elizabeth glared at the older man in front of her, “nah, I got some shit to focus on so I’ll catch up with Ruby and Jamal,”

Oscar’s smirked dropped as he quickly, but gently pushed her against his car, resting his hands on the top of the car, “they may be tu amigos pero I’m not afraid to beat their asses,”

Elizabeth felt everyone’s eyes on them so she rolled her eyes and complied, not wanting to be the center of everyone’s attention. Oscar smirked and kissed her forehead before moving to open the passenger door for her. The gang leader went to the driver’s side and turned to his passenger.

“Where do you wanna go?” Oscar took the blunt behind his ear.

“Home,” Elizabeth’s stomach decided to rumble at that moment.

Oscar chuckled, “Nah, we stoppin’ somewhere to eat. Whatchu feelin’?”

“Nuggets. Chicken nuggets. Let’s go to McDonald’s and you’re paying since you’re kinda kidnapping me,” Elizabeth glared at Oscar.

“Alright, mamita. Whatever you say,” Oscar smirked at the irritated girl as he turned into the parking lot of a McDonald’s.

The two got out once he parked and went inside to put in their order. While the two were waiting, she got a text from the girls group chat asking if she was going to the dance with them. She didn’t know that Oscar moved to stand right behind her, chest touching back, and saw the text.

“You goin’ to the dance?” Oscar asked.

“Don’t know,” Elizabeth shrugged, turning to face him, “might pick up an extra shift that night at the restaurant,”

“Nope. You’re not because you study too much and work too much,” Oscar shook his head and laid a hand on her waist, “you and I are hanging out tonight,”

“I need to, ‘Scar,” Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she pushed his hand off her waist, “deje de tratar de tocarme,”

“Por que, bebita? I can’t help myself. eres demasiado hermosa,” Oscar smirked as he wrapped an arm around her neck and walked to the register to order their food.

“Hello. Welcome to McDonald’s. What can I get you guys?”

“Let’s get the 20 piece chicken nuggets combo and a number one,” Oscar took out his wallet and brought out two twenties.

Oscar got his change as Elizabeth went to the soda fountain and chose her drink, Oscar coming up from behind and choosing his. They decided to take a sit next to the pick up counter and small talked their way until the food came out.

Elizabeth looked down at her food as she dipped her nugget in ranch, “Oscar, why are you trying so hard to get at me? I’m nothing special and there are a lot of other girls that want you and will make time for you. I’m not gonna lie, I barely have time to even hang out with my friends so I’m barely gonna have time for you,”

Oscar swallowed the food in his mouth, “Well, I want you because there is something about you. No me importa si apenas tienes tiempo, siempre y cuando me des algo de tu tiempo. Let me claim you as mine, bebe,”

The two ate their food, moving past the subject, and made their way home, but Oscar passed Elizabeth’s house and continued making his way farther from her house.

“Oscar, where are you going? We passed my house,” Elizabeth was getting confused.

“I just wanna show you something,” Oscar glance at her.

Oscar drove in silence as his right arm had moved to rest behind Elizabeth, his hand lightly touching her right shoulder. Elizabeth felt her heartbeat increase in her chest and it was foreign feeling to her because she never felt like that towards anybody. However, she pushed it aside and focused on the road when she realized that they ended up at the beach. The moment Oscar parked the car, Elizabeth got out and stood in front of the car with a huge smile on her face, turning to Oscar and giving him the sight of her smiling face with the son behind her. It was quite a beautiful sight to the scary leader.

“Why did you take me here?” Elizabeth asked, smile stuck on her face.

“This is the place I go to when I need to think and want to get away from Freeridge. The openness and sounds of the oceans help me think and relax,” Oscar stared at the never ending blue ocean as Elizabeth admired the man from the side.

Elizabeth was surprised by his answer, “so you took me to your secret place?”

Oscar nodded, “I want to show you that I am serious about you and that I want you to be mine. Why do you work so hard? Why do you hustle that much?”

Elizabeth took a pause to contemplate telling him, “my dad was a construction worker so he would be in dangerous areas. One day, he was on ground level doing his job when something happened and he got hit in the head. Ever since then he has been messed up and goes to hospital visits to check on his head. Hospital bills build up and the compensation that he got was used on his bills and appointment he needs to go to so I work to help my mom out with bills and I get some extra money for myself and the future,”

Oscar cleared his throat and moved in front of Elizabeth to hold both of her hands while interlocking their fingers, “I’m here if you need anything, mamita,”

“Gracias, ‘Scar,” Elizabeth had a soft smile on her face, “Let’s take things slow and maybe I’ll be yours,”

The two smiled at each other as they moved to look at the sunset, but it seemed like the two of them were enchanted with the other.

“Tell me about you,” Elizabeth stared at the man next to her, “why did you choose this life? Just tell me everything about you,”

“When I was young, my father was killed and my mother was a drug addict. That left me to take care of Cesar so I did all I could to take care of him. I mean, I had an opportunity to go to this fancy school in Pasadena and I had recommendation letters written from the principal and teachers, but I didn’t want Cesar alone so I gave it up and got jumped in because of ‘destiny’ of the Diaz familia,” Oscar scoffed, “it’s hard. I think about what could have been, but I don’t regret not going because Cesar is here,”

Elizabeth smiled at the love that was so evident in his eyes and tone when he talked about his little brother, “thanks for sharing, ‘scar. I didn’t know you were smart,”

“Pendeja,” Oscar chuckled with Elizabeth while wrapping his arm around her and kissing her head.

@love-me-91393

[rosesnink]

Revealings Of The Heart (Hayley x Ernest)

A/N: A few weeks ago, I got this ask of my dear friend @missameliep​ asking about Hayley and Ernest’s first kiss. So I thought to make a whole one shot so it is better explained, because it has been in my mind for months how they could kiss and in a better, more appropiate age for both of them. 

Summary: Hayley graduated a few days ago and is about to go back to England to start her adult life, but an unexpected visit with a very shocking revelation makes her life make a spin of 365º. 

Hayley packed the last piece of cloth, hoping that she packed her necessities and has sold some things she didn’t need: uni books she didn’t enjoy to new fellow students, clothes she grew to loathe, ugly presents from former relationships and even has made some essays to lazy but rich people who had nothing to lose. Of course, Directora Nieto suspected, but found no proof because uni teachers did not pay attention to anything that were plagiarism on online essays, not even the detail of handwriting or narrating.

“Tú, Hayls, ya tienes todo listo?” Her roomie, Andrea, asked.

“Si, todo listo. Mi vuelo vendrá a la tarde-noche.” She replied.

Andrea sat on the luggage, knowing well what came next: closing off everything.

“Oh, boy, here we go again.”

She was taking her last stroll over the city when she got a call “Hol—”.

“Hayley! Remember me? I’m Lydia Sinclaire!” Mrs. Sinclaire beamed.

“I do! I do.”

“I’m in Madrid now on a business trip on my husband’s behalf. Please tell me I can see you!”.

Hayley chuckled “Sure, no problem. Let me text you an address and I’ll meet you in twenty.”

Hayley sent her the address to Gran Via and she lost no time, taking a taxi and stopped on that famous building of Madrid everyone started to go. She found her visit in the middle of the street, looking anxious. She caught her arm and the woman twisted it and she cried of pain! Then, she let go of it and gasped “Oh! Sorry, darling, I thought you were an attacker.”

She winced before laughing “Don’t worry. That was actually impressive. Shall we?”.

The woman nodded as they both walked towards the fancy building and got into the elevator, where it was just the two of them. Hayley then fished from her bag a dress and took off her shirt and pants, startling Mrs. Sinclaire! She put on the black dress and placed the clothes on her back. She fished her small make-up bag and put on red gloss and a quick and accurate eyeliner of the shape of an eye cat. She finally let her hair loose and put on some perfume from a very tiny bag. She placed it all in her bag and laughed at Mrs. Sinclaire’s shocked expression “What? Don’t tell me you never did this when my age?”.

“No! I was too much of a good girl. Good Lord, when did you learn these things?!”.

“Before renting a flat, I lived with my maternal grandfather who is very conservative, but my grandma taught me a trick or two. He never found out of our schemes.”

Lydia laughed shocked but amused at it “And why do you still do it?”.

“Because you never know when you’re invited to a drinking in the street in twenty minutes or to a clandestine party at a forbidden place?”.

“My God, and I thought English women were rebellious…”.

“Spanish people love three things: food, parties and holidays, and everything free. Drinking is their culture. There are some those who don’t like it or stay in, but some of them are known for that, especially the Southern! Partying in Andalusia and Valencia is the Spanish Vegas, and in some occasions, the European Vegas.”

The elevator dinged and they both entered when they saw Hayley’s attire and passed them to VIP.

After some chit-chat, Mrs. Sinclaire shook her head in disbelief “So you’ve graduated top of your class in Complutense but haven’t got a job yet? Need I to put you in good word with anybody?”.

“No, but thanks. I don’t want my rich family to interfere, I wanna earn it, like my friends here.”

The woman raised the glass “I’ll drink to that.”

When her pint returned to the table, she asked “How’s your family? I understand they’re all well?”.

“Hm, my husband is resisting cancer and my son is growing taller and more handsome by the day. Already 23 and showing a great promise in the family business!” She fished her phone and showed a pic of him where he wasn’t aware he was being photographed. He looked very handsome, really: his curls were now softer and he was taller than before -he couldn’t be more than 6’8 or how Spanish said, 1’90 metres- and his features had hardened and there was a hint of a beard on his chin.

“He is… taller. Last time I saw him he was 6’5 feet tall and I was, like, 5’8.”

“My dear, you were 17 by then! You’re 21 now. He won’t admit it, but he has missed you.”

Her heart accelerated, but kept a poker face “He did?”.

“Yes! Always asking if you’d be home by Christmas or the festivities. His birthdays haven’t been the same without you there.”

She chuckled bitterly “I highly doubt that…”.

She pulled her shoulder teasingly “They have been! He was always so sad he didn’t have any present of yours…”.

She shook her head in disbelief and Lydia looked at her earnestly “During years, he has awaited for your reply to his mobile message. He was a bit depressed that you didn’t answer, even though he told you he was in love with you!”.

Her head whipped to her direction “He what? W-what message?”.

“One call he made you when you first got to Madrid! Here, I’ve got a copy.”

She played it and Hayley could hardly believe it.

Hayley, I know I should feel ashamed. Our age difference is concerning, but you’re leaving now and I cannot hide it any longer. I must unburden myself before it consumes me: I am courting a woman, yes, but she is not you. Every time I look at her, she reminds me that she isn’t you. That she doesn’t have your mysterious green eyes I could get lost looking at all the time, or your lips, or the way you speak, so hypnotic… It is no secret to anyone but you that I am in love with you, and I wish to be yours in the most respectful way. Please call me back if you hear this. If your feelings aren’t the same, I will remain your most ardent, humble and loyal friend.

The message ended and Hayley was wide-eyed, in complete disbelief and speechless. She remembers the kind guy, Carlos, who turned out to be obsessed with her escorting her and left her phone there with him, when one of the reasons she went to study aboard was that the man she was in love with and had broken up a relationship with didn’t like her back, indeed liked her back all this time!

“How long?”.

“Since he was 14.”

She rested her head on her palms “Fuck.” She was stunned, very stunned and undone “I must go to England now. I have to tell him before I bury it deep again. Here, have some euros for the ride and the check, I have a flight to take.”

Mrs. Sinclaire smiled, knowing she did well in telling her, knowing that hours ago, Ernest was aware that Hayley returned his affections too. Her plan was almost complete.

Five hours ago, in England

“You’ve got it all, Mother?”

“Yes, I’m waiting for one last mail, can you grab it yourself?”

Ernest frowned “Why?”

“Because I have to go to the bathroom and I’ll tell you anyways the content of it.”

He shrugged “Fair enough.”

He snagged some letters that he passed through: bills, more bills, a letter from Hayley Parker—he stopped in short.

Yes, that was indeed Hayley Parker’s handwriting. He opened it, taking care that his mother wasn’t staring before he read it.

Dear Ernest:

I know I have no right, that I am far too young to you, but I don’t think I can ignore this any longer.

I’m in love with you, Ernest. It was never Louis, or James, or Peter. It was you, Ernest. It was you all along, it has always and will always be you. And if there’s someone else, I do not want them, I want you.

I am aware that you are with someone else, but I must know before I decide before I go. I must know what it’s in your heart.

Maybe I was afraid that you’d reject me for being too young or childish for you, but I know you’re not that kind of guy. I know it. I know you.

If there is any chance that there could be a you and I, please meet me at the gates of my flight.

Love,

Hayley.

His heart raced as he started to take it all in.

All this time, she felt the same! But then, who avoided him receiving this letter those five years ago?

He thought as he tried not to sound too interested in when would Hayley come back.

Then, his phone rang. Felicity Holloway. He answered politely “Yes?”

“Hello, Ernest! I was thinking about whether we should get a coffee and talk. Remember that my father said five years ago that I’d be a good girlfriend to you in that dinner? Well, I was thinking—.”

“Felicity, may I know when was that dinner? I’m in a bit of a hurry. Business to get done.”

Could she be cruel enough to do that?

“Oh, that was in the 12th of December, after we got rid of that scum of Parker—.”

He couldn’t even stop himself “So it was you, then?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“You knew about the letter. The one where Hayley confessed she reciprocated my feelings for her!”

“I—.”

“We will talk soon about privacy… and boundaries.” And then, he hanged up.

His mother emerged and placed a hand on his shoulder “Go, my boy. Run to her. Do not become her father. No matter what, go to her.”

He didn’t know how, but he understood that weren’t for his mother, this couldn’t be happening.

So he ran. And ran. And ran. He didn’t stop, even though there was a small drizzle going on.

He arrived at Westminster Bridge, a bit soaked and panting. He couldn’t believe his eyes. There she was, older, a bit tanner and more beautiful than ever. They looked at each other in the eyes. She approached him slowly, and so did he. And then, they were close. Two more steps and he was all hers.

“Ernest, I—.”

He kissed her, without thinking, he just kissed her. And she kissed him back, her hands on his shoulder and hair, not noticing that some paparazzis followed them. Ernest felt like in heaven. Her lips, with the taste of mint as he dreamed many times, duplicated, now mint and a bit of coffee and cherry lipstick. And it tasted so good. He begged her closer and she obliged, biting his lip, making him shudder. They finally separated, now noticing that people were applauding and it was raining heavily, but his mind was too fuzzy, his only thought Hayley.

“Hayley… Hayls. I must know… do you truly have feelings for me?”

She kissed him again, now a bit shortly, a small smile on her lips “I do. Do you?”

“For longer than I care to admit.”

She chuckled, noticing that her makeup was now a mess all over her face and the powerful rain now sent her a chill through her body. Ernest quickly gathered his jacket and placed it on her shoulders and scolded the paparazzis for interrupting a moment.

He called a cab, paying the ride as he handed her a napkin to clean her face. Even though she was all a mess, she was still beautiful. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She smiled at him “So, what does this make us?”

The cab stopped on her townhouse and he took her hand and guarded her on the porch and looked at her “It’d make you my girlfriend, if that is what you want of me.”

She beamed at him, encircling her hands on his shoulders “I’d like nothing more.”

And with that, they kissed again, under the rain, happily knowing that somehow, this wouldn’t end.  

[jojo-reader-hell]

Bucci Gang x Reader: Adheridos Separados

A story about coming home from a foreign country. Focuses on Hispanic!Reader because I need representation. So if you’re not Hispanic congrats, you are now.

You’re filthy.

You smell like a mixture of crotch, urine, and death breath. Didn’t even brush your teeth the morning you left Helsinki nor did you bother at the various terminals you visited.Just jumped out of bed and took off, didn’t even change out of your pajamas.

Hair in knots, beat up leather jacket around your shoulders, you sneak glances here and there as the plane descends. Thank God, she gave you enough money for two tickets, so you were able to avoid tormenting an unfortunate seatmate for five and a half hours. Instead by your side sat your black guitar case, the sole piece of luggage you carried with you wherever you went.

Please… Fucking shit… Please let them be there…

Thank God Finland was only one hour ahead. At first you were worried you wouldn’t make it in time, they didn’t linger during lunch. Not when there were other things to take care of, if the boys got into a fight they left early, or if one of them got a wild hair and decided to eat somewhere else, Libeccio might very well be empty by the time you found a taxi and this makes you sweat even more.

Hurry the fuck up!!

Your boot makes a pattering sound as you bounce your leg in anticipation. You keep muttering under your breath for the pendejo flying the plane to hurry his lazy ass up, hand wrapped around the handle of your guitar case as though you’re going to swing it out at the first person who tries to line up before you in the skinny aisle of the plane. Around you, the world moves on. Some people speak in Finnish, occasionally there’s the obnoxious American tourist gushing and you understand simple words like “ocean” and the ever annoying “oh my gawwwwwwwd”, even some Italians are on this flight, complaining about the lows of negative seven Celsius and how they’re looking forward to the warmth back home.

“Apurate cabron!” you nearly scream it out but it catches hoarsely in your throat.

No one seems to notice your distress. It’s probably for the best. You don’t want to talk to anyone else right now. You’re itching to go, bouncing in your seat when the wheels touch down and barely hearing the roar of the brakes through the pounding of your heart in your ears. You stand even before the seat belt lights turn off, conventional airline etiquette can suck your clit if any of these fuckers think for a minute you’re going to wait for them to get off first.

Rude as ever, you push your way to the front, earning a lot of complaints from the passengers but silencing them with a red hot glance of murder when you bullied your way to the front of the plane.

You don’t even bother to take in the sight of the white walls of Napoli Airport like the tourists do. You book it out of the gate, guitar case swinging haphazardly as you break into a sprint out of the terminal. This time, you didn’t bother to waste another minute with a letter. If you had, they’d be waiting for you with a car, and this would have taken seconds to quell the heartache you felt in your chest.

But to hell with wasting time that could get you home quicker. You didn’t even wait for the snow to melt in the country you were staying in. As soon as she gave you the money to leave you left, not even pausing once to say goodbye to the two old women that had shown you what was in your heart.

Scanning the front of the airport for a familiar yellow color, you manage finally to flag someone down. Quickly you enter, slamming the door once you’re seated next to your guitar case. You don’t let the man get a word in edgewise. Waving a stack of bills in the driver’s face, you tell in lispy Italian where you need to go, not caring that his smile is really a cruel mockery and turning it into a frown when you open your mouth again.

“Did you hear a word I said? Hurry up and drive me there! I know my Italian is not so very bad. ¡Ya me tienes harto! ¡Vete a la chingada!”

The effect is instantaneous. Both languages are not so different that the Italians cannot understand what you’re saying. Often you talk a lot of shit in your native language, earning mean looks from the person that hears it, and the driver swears at you before peeling out of the front of Napoli Airport. There’s something in your eyes that makes him afraid to do more than call you a dirty whore, he didn’t even kick you out when you started back at him in Castiliano. The both of you argue the whole way, bitching at one another until you throw the stack of bills on his lap before you exit, leaving your new best friend with a nice piece of advice:

“¡Tómate tu dinero y mételo en el culo!” you scream.

“Vai a cagare brutta stronza!”

You laugh. You start fucking howling when you slam the door of the taxi, leaning on your guitar as he peels off. Of course the entire street is staring, but you could really give a fuck less.

God dammit… You’re HOME!

“Bahahahaahahaha! D-did you see that?” you’re too choked up, shaking even as it appears you’re talking to thin air. “He… he called me a bitch! HAHAHAHAHA!”

A throaty metallic laugh sounds off next to you, a rather tall figure in black puts a hand up to the only part of her face that’s not covered by her helmet. A filthy word in Spanish blinks across her helmet, and you laugh harder, clutching your stomach and not even bothering with the looks or the mutterings of what a freak you are. You must look like some smelly nut job, but you could care less.

“Come on,” you tell your Stand, gesturing with the guitar case towards the restaurant. “Let’s go!”

The Brainwasher’s coo sounds almost like a chirp. She follows eagerly behind you as you walk the few blocks towards the restaurant. Stubborn asshole didn’t even drop you at the front like they usually did, probably shouldn’t have said you fucked his mother, but whatever. It wasn’t like you were ever going to need to take a taxi again in your life anyways. Finally you look up at the streets you couldn’t stop seeing in your dreams. Everything is clean, just how you left it before the beginning of autumn. Everything stays, but there are some subtle differences in how you perceive the facades, the green awnings and black telephone wires with birds, the red brick buildings and the smell of freshly cooked Napoli fare. It hits you how hungry you were, not just for a meal, but for the comfort you had here in this town.

They have to be here, you think to yourself as you slow your pace and your racing heart, I made it just in time… They probably just sat down to eat and I’m going to walk in on them drinking, probably starting on torte alle frogole or perhaps I’ll catch them in the middle of a bite of veal… And when I get my kisses, they’re going to taste so sweet no matter what they’ve been eating…

Your Stand chirrups in delight, the word “Papi” blinking across her helmet in pink along with a series of hearts all in the different colors of the rainbow. You smile at The Brainwasher, and she gives you a toothy grin in return as the both of you take your time to savor the streets of Naples. You want to take it in slowly, it’s been too long already… But on the opposite side of the coin you feel as though you’re merely trying to hold back the full body vibrating you feel at the prospect of seeing the loves of your life for the first time in what feels like forever.

Strange, you think as you enter the restaurant and see the host’s eyes light up, It never used to feel like I was away very long before. It felt like I’d never left, and I’d actually start feeling an anxiety… now… I feel like I’ve been away too long…

“Singorina Esposito!”

You laugh.

“I told you to call me by my first name.” you grin. “Please, is he… are they all…?”

The words can’t come to you, but he knows what you want and wordlessly ushers you through the tables to the back.

“Of course Singorina Espo- I… apologies! Yes, they’re all here today!”

The fake name you’ve been given never ceases to amuse you. With a bit of morbid curiosity, you’ve come to find the identity one of your boyfriends has given you in order for you to stay long periods of time actually is a throw away name for Italian orphans. But it’s more amusing than insulting, because it can also be a cute way of calling someone “husband” in your native language, and you waste no time informing your boyfriend.

“What? You miss me that much you want to marry me?” you’d asked coyly, laughing at his red face. “Uh? Am I your husband, and you’re the wife? Pining for me every time I have to leave for work? Then come here and give your esposo a kiss~.”

“SHOW HIM SOME RESPECT!”

You stop short of the archway and peer into the reserved area. There’s tea all over the table, the remains of a shattered cup staining the floors with dark liquid and you catch a whiff of Darjeeling. One boyfriend screams at the others, a stranger next to him with gold hair as both have their backs to you. Your breath catches in your throat… There’s an air of uncertainty. You want to call out to them, to say something, but all the things you intended to say to them clog in your vocal cords and you can’t even gurgle out one word in Italian.

The Brainwasher flickers to life next to you.

“Ya llegué.” She whispers softly.

Time stops. Six pairs of eyes fall on you, one unfamiliar, the other five with some sort of confusion. You see the emotions mix, tumble over one another, until warm recognition makes you smile in delight.

“H-…”

A scream, a yelp of your name is all you hear as you’re suddenly pinned to the floor by an overly exuberant mass of orange, leather and messy black hair. The case in your hand is pulled out of your grasp last minute by The Brainwasher, and she has only moments to react before you are completely taken over by bodies.

“MIA RAGAZZA!”

All of them are screaming your name, kisses are planted on every bit of exposed skin. Someone bites your earlobe and you exclaim out in pain, the one who tackled you takes advantage of this and you taste the sweetness of his tongue against yours, hearing him moaning loudly into the kiss. Your tangles are yanked back and you’re separated from your attacker, mouth taken up into another kiss that tastes of strawberries and cream while your lips are smeared with purple lipstick.

“Where the fuck were you all this time?!” screams the one that bit you.

“You didn’t even call or write!” whines the tackler.

Another body just as ripe as yours heaves you all up off the floor.

“Yuck! You stink!” he cries, and you feel tears dribble onto your face as he clutches you tightly to his smelly chest. “You’re so gross… You… You…!”

This whole time you haven’t made a sound. You’re far too caught up in the lips and the tongues that pull you in several directions at a time to notice that you’ve drawn the attention of everyone in the entire restaurant. You don’t even care that The Brainwasher has disappeared and dropped your case to the floor, not when your heart is bursting and you’re being showered in all the love you’ve craved over the last few months. What a difference it made, now that your eyes were wide open and you could see clearly without the other emotions bogging you down.

Remember what I told you. Hold them close. Be thankful for the freedom they’ve given you…

You look up when you hear your name murmured.

There he is… He’s still as handsome as ever. Looking you over with those ocean eyes as his face contorts like he’s going to cry at any moment. The others let you out of their grasp reluctantly, you still feel fingers on your back as you step closer, but you don’t have to move any further.

Olive toned hands take your face up, your skin is covered in lipstick and tears and snot bubbles and you still smell like a toilet but he doesn’t care a whit. He merely swipes a thumb across your cheek, his eyes squinting into a smile, lower lip quivering as though he’s afraid to kiss you.

“I’m home.” You tell him simply. Like you went to the grocery store for some milk.

He says nothing. Takes you up in his grasp and kisses you like his life depends on it, the clean taste of his mouth against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck. As Bruno Buccellati kisses you fervently, you feel the bodies of your other lovers engulf you. Leone Abbacchio’s large hands caress your waist, Narancia Ghirga pulls on the hem of your pants, Pannacotta Fugo and Guido Mista can’t help but take each arm and pepper kisses on every inch they can get a hold of. You’re ensconced in this feeling. Well loved. Steaming hot and relieved from the cold of loneliness you’d been feeling the entire winter.

As you’re being showered in affection, you don’t notice the last pair of eyes viewing this display with a strange, mounting envy. You don’t notice him cock his head as the boys kiss and complement you. Wanting to know who this stranger is, and why it seems that the gangsters before him are so desperate to shower you with affection.

Much to his displeasure, he wants to know why he suddenly wants to take the time to greet you with a kiss as well, to see you squirm and giggle and moan beneath his touch…

[lonelycouchpotatoe]

Secret Santa Apex

@apex-secretsanta

@dupesoclock I hope u like it bro marry Christmas my dude

Sorry if it kinda sucks if u dont like it i can write u something else or try to draw u something but ya i hope u like it bro

Octane smiled softly as he brushed a stray strand of hair out of Elliot's face. He looked so peaceful. Like nothing bad could ever happen, and for once octane hoped things would never change. Elliott stirred awake before wrapping his arms around octane, pushing their bodies impossibly close. The sound of octane's heartbeat lulling him back to sleep. Octane pulled Elliot closer, wrapping his legs around him before returning to sleep. The warmth of his partner made him feel safe. Elliott woke up, smiling upon seeing how octane was positioned. Octane had trouble staying still even while sleeping apparently. He was face-first on the ground with what was left of his legs resting on the bed. He was going to be sore after this. Elliott went to the restroom and when he returned octane was still face-first on the ground. Elliott picked him up, carrying him back to bed placing him in a comfortable position before placing a kiss on his forehead. Just as he was about to leave octane grabbed his hand pulling him down. 

“Where are you going, mi amor (my love)?” Octane placed a kiss on his cheek. 

“Uh breakfast and it's 10 am we should probably get up” Mirage reasoned trying to stand up. 

Octane crawled on top of Elliott, making sure he would be able to get up. 

“No, we don't”.

“Are you telling me that thee Octane wants to stay in bed all day but isn't your whole motto go go go”?

“It is, but it's just so comfy with you” He pressed his face into Elliot's chest. 

“Your chest is very soft by the way” Octane grabbed Eliott’s chest pressing them together. 

Elliott slapped his hands away sitting up before pushing Octane away. 

“Leave my chest alone!” Elliott stuck out his tongue and covered his chest with his arms. 

“You mean your boobs?” Elliot's face turned bright red, he grabbed a pillow throwing it with all his might hitting Octane in his face. 

Octane laughed at Elliot's little outburst.

“You're an asshole, you know that right!” Elliott shouted, his lip forming a pout. 

Octane crawled towards him, “And your prefect” octane placed a quick kiss on his lips. 

“You can't do that! You can't win every argument by kissing me!” Elliott turned his back facing Octane. 

“Oh come on, no estés enojado conmigo amor (don't be mad at me love). I was just joking. You still love me right?” Octan hugged Elliott from behind wrapping his arms around his waist resting his chin on his shoulder. 

“Of course I still love you! I'm just up-up, sus-set, frick, I'm just upset!”  Elliott pouted, crossing his arms. 

“Pero porque (but why)? Is it cuz I said you had boobs?” Octane slid his arms up to cup Elliott’s chest. 

Elliott sighed pushing Octane’s arms down.

“Maybe” he whispered.

“But I love your boobs,” Octane said, placing a kiss on his shoulder, placing a hand over his chest before grabbing a handful of flesh. 

“Can you stop saying boobs please?” Elliott said, moving away from Octane. 

“Ey, no te enojes (hey don't get mad), If I make you something will you forgive me” Octane reached for Elliott making grabby hands.��

“You'll burn the house down” Eliott rolled his eyes. 

“No! I can cook. My parents were always too busy to cook for me and the maid never made anything I liked” Octane grimace at the memory “I don't want no rich people food yuck” Octane stuck his tongue out. 

Elliott glared at him. 

“Fine I can only cook like three things and I make a mess… but my arroz con leche and flan taste good! Ask Ajay she can vouch for me!”. 

“Fine but you're cleaning the kitchen and you're washing the dishes” Octane groaned but agreed. 

He grabbed his prosthetics and ran off to the kitchen.  After what seemed forever Octane came back with the food. 

“Tada! What do you think” Octane grabbed a spoon and placed it at Elliott’s lips “Does it taste good?”

“You made this tavi? I don't believe it” Elliott said, taking another spoonful of the arroz con leche. 

“I'll take that as a yes,” Octane said before eating his. 

“Hey, amor” mirage hummed in response. 

“Tienes algo aquí (you have something here)” Octane cupped his face before kissing him. 

“Did you get it?” Mirage smirked. 

“You know what I think I missed” Octane kissed him again. 

“There”. 

“You're so cheesy sometimes you know that, pretty sure that was my job” Mirage kissed the tip of  Octane’s nose.

Octane giggled, “But you love me for it don't ya?”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don't guess, you'll never know” Octane pouted. 

“Come on, come on, come on! The suspense is killing me amigo” Octane gripped mirage’s shoulder shaking him lightly. 

Mirage laughed making Octane smile. He felt as if he was falling in love all over again.

Mirage warped his arms around Octane pressing a kiss to his face, “Does that answer your question?”

Octane pretended to think for a moment before giving him his iconic shit-eating grin, “No I don't think it did”.

“I thought you were smarter than that because the answer is obviously I do love you” Mirage kissed his cheek. 

“Amigo you shouldn’t expect that much from me. I mean come on we share a brain cell and you own it”. 

Mirage ruffled Octane's hair,  “You know what, maybe we should stay here all day. It's not like we had anything ur-ur,ga-gan… important to do”.

Octane looked up at mirage like he meant the world to him, and he did. 

“Stop”.

“Stop what? Going to have to be more specific than that amor”.

“Stop looking at me like that!”

“I can't help it you're just too adorable when you stutter”. 

“No, I'm not!” Mirage’s cheeks flushed bright red.

“Boop” Octane poked Mirage's nose with his index finger. 

There was a moment of silence before they both burst out laughing. 

“Te quiero” octane said out of nowhere. 

Mirage giggled, “I know”.

“Good just wanted to make sure you knew” Octane placed a kiss on his forehead. 

“Well, then you should know I love you too” Mirage cupped his face and returned the kiss. 

Everything was perfect. There was nothing wrong. No one was shouting, there were no gunshots. No scary murder bots, no drug addictions to worry about. It was just perfect. And they both hoped that it would be like this always and that time would slow down a bit to let them enjoy this moment a bit more. 

[blog-sliverofjade]

Hearth Fires 20: Losing Control

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary:  Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.

While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.

Word count: 3330

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the incomparable @pandabearer CW for sexual content near the end

The course of true love never did run smooth.

-A Midsummer’s Night Dream by William Shakespeare

They annoyed each other, that was what they did, then Remi had to go and blow that understanding to smithereens.  How was Lorelei supposed to deal with that level of care and affection, especially from a man who sang to the being underneath her skin?  The strange, nameless connection that had formed between them when they first met was growing stronger and she could no longer shy away from it, not when he touched her with heart breaking tenderness.

Why couldn’t he go back to being a jerk?  He was clearly aware of the effect he had on her; no doubt he’d used his good looks to manipulate many a dazzled victim before, but he hadn’t tried talking her into bed.

Inexplicably, she felt safe with him, which was why she let him get away with things she’d allow no one else.  It was why she’d broken down in front of him instead of stifling the panic until she was alone and there was no one to see her break. 

It had been the stark fear for her in his eyes that made Lorelei give in to his demand.  As silly as it was, the thought that he worried made her feel cared for.  The anger and the directive were because he was truly afraid for her.  Oh sure, she was accustomed to orders that were ostensibly for her own good, but she’d always known on some level that they were all about controlling her.  His concern might be nothing more than that of an alpha for a weaker changeling, yet it did something to her all the same.

After finishing unpacking, which didn’t take long, she settled in the hammock-cushion-nest thing with something he’d sent her called “Welcome Module for Submissives.”  Some things were obviously missing, such as maps, and entire sections according to the table of contents.  Even though she knew it was ridiculous, she found herself hurt that he didn’t trust her with the information.  Why should he when she had no loyalties to RainFire?  

While she had no allegiance to the pack as a whole, she had to admit that bonds with several of its members were worming their way into her heart.  But that didn’t mean she was of a mind to go and ingratiate herself with the leopards, if they were even welcoming of a reluctant stranger in their midst.

She forgot to take the curiosity of baby cats into account.

Her acute hearing picked up the small knock at the front door.  Answering it, she found herself staring at open air before remembering she was surrounded by changelings.  Looking down, she saw Jojo in human skin.

“Hey Jojo, I’m afraid Remi’s not here.”

“Lo’el come.”  A little hand slipped in hers.  “I show you.”

“Jojo wants to show you around.”  A teenager crossed one of the suspension bridges that connected to Remi’s patio porch; he smiled in the exasperation of older siblings, but underneath that, she could tell there was a deep abiding love.  Her own chest ached with recognition and yearning for a familial love she’d never known.

“Hi, I’m-” she began and offered her hand, knowing that most youths appreciated being treated like adults.

“Lorelei, I know.  I’m Teo.”  His handshake was a little light, as if he were trying to be gentle and not due to timidity.  There was a leanness to his limbs that spoke of a recent growth spurt and was still adjusting to the new changes.  “When Jojo heard you were here, she wanted to make sure you know your way around.”

“Thank you, I get lost easily.”  It wasn’t a lie.  She stuck to the more well-trodden game trails near her cottage since she couldn’t always find her own scent trail again to make her way home.

And that was how she found herself taken on a meandering tour of places her tiny tour guide deemed important, with Teo serving as interpreter when excitement rendered Jojo largely unintelligible.  The youth was incredibly patient and helpful, the qualities no doubt inherited from Tien and honed by running herd on his little sister.  If he found Lorelei’s questions peculiar or something she should have already known, he gave no sign.

The Glade was the heart of RainFire, a network of aeries in trees bigger than anything she’d seen in her life were connected with rope bridges.  There were other buildings, some on the ground and some not.  They even had a cliff face for climbing that they’d enclosed with more panels to keep out the elements.

Her gregarious guide made sure to introduce her to everyone they came across, including people she’d met before.  She thought it was beyond strange that she was allowed to be alone with the two kids, until she realized that they were never out of sight of an adult.  It wasn’t that they were followed, there was no need when Jojo’s itinerary consisted of public places like the playground, where they gathered for meals, and the infirmary in case she got an “owie.”

She was getting used to them, but she was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“What you got for me?” Remi asked without preamble as Lark entered his office.

“StormWillow’s also picking up the same subtle tensions we are and are happy to provide support and intel in exchange for our strength,” the sentinel reported, picking up on his unsociable mood.

It wasn’t that the avian changelings were weak, far from it, but when it came down to it, leopards could do far more damage than ravens.  And if the situation escalated, both groups would need to rely on the strengths of the other to make it through.  

He didn’t view alliances as a weakness, which was something Lumas Denier had maintained, even though he would have shattered any coalitions with his intractable attitude.  His father had always been obstinate, it was part of a predatory changeling’s makeup, but it grew worse after his mother’s death.  It was like he decided that he had to sever all remaining emotional ties, including that of his young son.

“You got someone in mind to play liaison?”

“Elijah.”

“Good, that’s what I was thinking, too,” he nodded.  “Make sure we have direct and backup lines of communication with StormWillow.  I want to amend our evacuation strategies at the next meeting in the possibility that areas with dense human populations become hostile.”

“You really think it’ll come to that?”  Her thin eyebrows climbed towards her hairline.

“I hope not, but my job’s to conjure up every conceivable nightmare and prepare for it,” Remi sighed and ran a hand over his face.

“Is that why you brought in the little ocelot?” asked Lark with a tilt of her head.  He shot her a sharp look and she held up her hands.  “Pack is family, and we’re cats.  Sticking our noses in each other’s business comes with the territory.”

“Keep your nose out of this,” he glared.

“Look, you can suffocate a submissive,” she continued on, ignoring him.  “This is a whole new world to her, give her time to settle into it and find her own way.”

“You think I don’t know that?”  His leopard didn’t like being questioned over its ability to care for its mate.

“I think you’re forgetting that if she’s under RainFire’s protection then that includes protection from you if she needs it.”

Dinner was interesting, to say the last.

Rough timbers of the roof crossing overhead contrasted with gleaming hardwood underfoot.  Towards the left and the right, trunks of ancient trees cut through the floor and continued up through the ceiling.  Tables and chairs were scattered along the curve of windows overlooking a steep valley below, the trees a patchwork of green, yellow, orange, and red.

Jojo ran off to join Darin at another table, both of them chattering away to each other and their older packmates.  After Teo got her oriented, Lorelei thanked him and told him to go and join the boy who waved to him from across the room.  He flashed her a brilliant smile, pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, and dashed off with a wink.  She laughed and shook her head; she should have known that there was some mischief under all that good behaviour, he was a cat, after all.

She felt like she was back in middle school all over again with no idea where to sit.  Although she was hungry, she only had a salad and some fruit, her self-consciousness preventing her from eating anything more where people could judge her for her choices.  After her drama earlier, she didn’t want to risk another.  In the end, she found a seat in an unobtrusive corner; however, adult cats were just as curious as baby cats and she soon found herself surrounded by company.

Remi didn’t make an appearance.  Then again, not everyone was present, either; people came and went according to their own schedules.  Not that she was disappointed or anything.

People laughed and chattered, a thousand scents mingled, children giggled and ran underfoot.  It was all too much.  The cat felt claustrophobic, it wanted to rend and claw and maim until it was free.  

That terrified Lorel.  She’d worked to keep her angry ocelot imprisoned, contained by sheer willpower while remaining sane.  According to Remi, that was the opposite of what she should be doing, and he appeared to be right since she seemed to be getting worse, but she didn’t know what to do nor did she trust anyone other than him enough to admit her problem.

Ghost images of blood and flesh and bone flashed through her mind like a grisly movie.  They were memories, but they weren’t hers, weren’t human.  The remembered taste of blood coated her tongue and was a bucket of cold water to bring her out of the rage.  Bile rose at the realization of how badly she wanted to tear into something living.

The beat of her heart thundered through her, strong enough to drown out all other sounds, and she quivered under the force.  She bit her lower lip and took a deep trembling breath.  

Murmuring a good night to those who’d joined her, she made her way back to the aerie in the soft darkness before she could harm the wonderful people who’d brought her into their home.  She was the monster under the bed, her own personal bogeyman.

Remi quietly entered the aerie, not wanting to wake Lorelei.  He’d taken an extra patrol, not that it was necessary; it was merely a precaution and not at all because he’d avoided being alone with a sexy little ocelot.  He loved having her in his space, picking up his scent, even if it was only a superficial layer.  The leopard rolled around in her sweetly sexy scent like a housecat in catnip.

His leopard purred.  Bastard was smug now that she was in his territory, in his aerie.  Poor baby didn’t even realize she was following the instinct to explore, to mark the place as hers.

The rustle of blankets and a faint moan froze him mid-step.  When it seemed no other noise was forthcoming, he continued padding into his bedroom.  A tiny whimper, the helplessness of it stripped him to the one.  The security system hadn’t been tripped nor did he smell an intruder, only the deliciousness of Lorelei, albeit deeper than usual.

The animalistic need to visually confirm she was all right overrode the civilized notion of privacy.  Sliding the door to his office-turned-guest room open, the scent of her reached out and ensnared him in silken ribbons.  His brain needed a minute to confirm what he was seeing and when it did, he went painfully hard in a single pulse.

Small feet shifted restlessly on the sheets, her hips rolling as she worked her core over the pillow squeezed to within an inch of its life between her creamy thighs.  Her tank top was twisted, one breast spilling out, the nipple tightly furled.  He wanted to rip back the covers, throw her legs over his shoulders, and sink balls deep into her; he wanted to leave his scent all over her, in her.

Her brows knitted together, and she whined again, that luscious mouth settling into a pout.  A slight snore told him that she was still asleep.

“What’s wrong, ma joli catin?” he whispered.

“Can’t.  Need,” she mumbled, her face screwing up in frustration, and continued to rub herself on the pillow.  In her semi-asleep state, she couldn’t find her release.

“Come for me.”  He laced the order with his dominance.

The throaty cry as she fell apart, spine bowing and head thrown back, had him nearly spilling in his jeans like a boy seeing a naked woman for the first time.  

“Good girl,” he purred.

Her breathing evened out and her face relaxed into the slackness of sleep.

Appalled at himself, he stumbled back, barely remembering to slide the door shut.  Remi had never, never used his dominance to enforce submission from a woman sexually.  Until now.  Head hanging between his shoulders, guts knotting, he braced himself over the sink.  Even his erection wilted in shame.

The animal inside him wanted her on the most primal level and struggled against the morals of the man.  The beast only understood that she was his, couldn’t understand why he wasn’t exchanging naked skin privileges with its mate.

Just because she was his mate didn’t give him the right to take what he wanted.  Until she approached him, he would wait.  To do otherwise would be taking advantage of his position like she’d accused him of.  It would be another step towards the poisonous stew of aggression he grew up in, and one there was no coming back from.

ma joli catin - my pretty doll

[jawnjendes]

it’s always been you | shawn mendes

shawn x goth oc

forevermore 1/?

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist

PREVIOUS

masterlist | playlist (song added with every chapter)

One would be surprised to know the extent Annalise Flores would go to remain anonymous. She had a wig she wore specifically for work, and it wasn’t just to look professional. All of her social media is private, not that she surfs the web for leisure these days. Her own family doesn’t even know what she’s been up to these last few weeks. This is the life Annalise chose. Always reserved, always a mystery. She preferred it this way.

So when she got back together with her ex, it wasn’t exactly devastating to discover that she was not allowed to be seen with him in the public eye. Her ex-turned-current boyfriend is the world famous musician Shawn Mendes. They dated back in college prior to the fame, but that’s a different story. This is now.

Annalise was in between sessions at her Los Angeles counseling office, reviewing notes and waiting for the next client to arrive. It was a normal work day, she was at the halfway point, but not quite. It wasn’t lunchtime yet.

The phone rang, causing her to jump at the sound. She picked up and answered, hearing her assistant/secretary Mateo on the other line.

“Señora, tiene una entrega,” he said in a singsong voice.

“What did we say about señora?” she replied. “I feel old.”

He giggled. “So are you coming, or do I drink this coffee myself?”

Annalise perked up at the sound of coffee. “I’ll be right there.”

It’s not that it was a hot beverage. She never Postmated something she could simply go out and get herself. She smoothed out her black dress and went down the hallway, gazing at the waiting room on the way to the front desk, just in case anyone showed up early. That was a rare occurrence, what with the type of clientele she dealt with.

The delivery was exactly what Mateo had said, a cup of coffee from some obscure shop. The assistant was grinning excitedly, for this wasn’t the first time his employer had gotten a mystery drink with a note attached. Annalise knew he never read the notes she got, otherwise he would have flipped his shit long ago. Mateo wasn’t one to hide things like shock or excitement. He would learn though; He was still an intern.

Annalise took the cup and read the strip on the side of it. Decaf. Hvy cream. Sweetener. Yup, that’s the one. Then she opened the folded note that was tape to the cup.

See you tonight -Mr. M.

She hummed and slipped the note into her dress pocket. Looks like she has plans tonight.

“There’s also a man outside who wants to talk to you,” Mateo added. “He’s the one who brought the coffee.”

Annalise figured there would be more than just that silly little note. She went out the door and into the warm spring day, finding a familiar bald man sat on a nearby bench.

“Jake,” she greeted.

The man stood and smiled. “How you doing, Ann?”

“Good. Apparently I’m seeing him tonight? Has he lost his mind or something?”

“He says it’s important.”

“He and I have different definitions of the word important. But yeah, I’ll go. I assume you’ll be taking me again?” There was a bit of reluctance in her tone.

“That’s right. As soon as you’re done here.”

Anytime Annalise wanted to see her boyfriend, she couldn’t simply drive herself to his house whenever she pleased. The last time she saw Shawn was two months ago on Valentine’s Day, a day that he decided was important. Most days, they saw each other through FaceTime, Snapchat, text, even the coffee and notes became a regular form of communication.

It’s not like Annalise frequently keeps up with celebrity gossip, but she knew why it had to be this way, and honestly, she wasn’t mad about it. She had to sneak around with Shawn behind the scenes of his great big love story stunt, despite the fact that he wasn’t doing anything careerwise at the moment. It was more for the other person in this love story stunt than it was for him. Again, Annalise wasn’t mad about it.

Staying away from Shawn in public was fine, and that’s the truth. The world believed Shawn Mendes was dating Camila Cabello for the umpteenth time in his career. Well, some of the world believed that, and some was all that was needed. As long as Annalise didn’t get under that terrifying microscope, she was good.

~

Shawn was nervous for a multitude of reasons. The doorbell rang, and even though he checked the camera at the front door, he still felt knots in his stomach. He hasn’t seen this girl in a while. He was still surprised that she agreed to come all the way to sunny LA. This wasn’t her level of expertise, but she was experienced in law, so that was better than nothing. On top of that, Shawn didn’t trust anyone that was connected to Andrew, and most lawyers in this town seemed to know him. Shawn couldn’t risk any of this getting back to his team.

He answered the door to a petite woman with a jet black pixie cut. She had on dark sunglasses, and carried an umbrella. Ripped skinny jeans, a band t-shirt, and converse were her go-to. It was like she hadn’t changed clothes since the last time Shawn saw her. Dark as this girl looked, her greeting was like sunshine.

“Helloooo!” She dramatically threw her umbrella aside and opened her arms for a hug.

“Isabella,” Shawn greeted as he accepted her hug, minding the permanent chill of her body. “Thank you so much for coming.”

Oh, that’s okay,” she replied. She stepped inside the house and looked around the spacious area. “Damn, this ain’t no Canada. Also, how convenient that you live here and not your supposed home country.” She poked his chest with a grin.

Shawn chuckled. This girl genuinely did not believe Canada was a real place. “Tell you what, get me out of this contract, and I’ll send you on a vacation to Vancouver.”

Isabella took off her sunglasses, revealing red eyes. However she blinked a few times and they went back to brown.

“Who else is here?” she asked, placing her shoulder bag on the kitchen island. “I’m detecting Chanel Number Whatever.”

“Oh, that’s probably Camila,” Shawn replied, still thrown by how intuitive Isabella was. “She’s in the bathroom. And uh, Ann will be here soon.”

“Okay, so Camila’s the fake girlfriend, right?”

“Worse. They want us engaged.”

Isabella’s eyes widened. “We have a lot of work to do.”

Then, another voice sounded from the stairs. “Who’s here? I heard the doorbell ring.”

Shawn shared a look with Isabella. While she still looked human, there was that tiny shred of doubt. What if she had the words ‘vampire-witch’ tattooed on her forehead?

Finally, Camila entered the dining room/kitchen. She immediately spotted Isabella and went to introduce herself. Both girls were bubbly and enthusiastic, despite the serious circumstances. Shawn couldn’t help but feel a bit weird. He carried many secrets, but the biggest one had to be that he knew an actual vampire. That secret was just above the one about his relationship with Camila being a business arrangement. Could he really consider it a secret if his team was absolutely horrible at making that seem natural, and that the whole world figured it out years ago? Shawn and Camila were simply bound by contract.

That’s why Isabella Jayn Montgomery was hired.

Shawn checked the time on his phone. It was half past eight, Ann and Jake should be on their way. He shouldn’t have been so nervous about this. It’s not like Ann wouldn’t like the idea of not having to hide anymore… right?

~

“So you just decided that we were going to go public and not tell me?”

He didn’t really know what he was expecting. Not even five minutes had passed since Isabella, Camila, and Jake left, and Ann got right to it. She was polite through the whole discussion, listening to everything Isabella had to say, and asking questions every so often. But as it turns out, she had her own bone to pick.

Shawn was putting the empty water glasses in the kitchen sink, surprised by his girlfriend’s serious tone. “I thought that was something we wanted?”

“You wanted that,” Ann corrected, sitting at the island. “Look, if you want to stop fake dating Camila, that’s fine, I support that. If you wanna go back to making music for your fans and go back on tour, I support that too. Whatever you wanna do with your career is your decision. But when it comes to our relationship, I get a say too. And I don’t want my privacy taken away.”

“Well…” he trailed off, leaning against the counter. “Just because I get out of my contract doesn’t mean you and I have to go and make out in the middle of the street. It would just be more believable if we were seen out in public together. It would show mine and Camila’s teams that we’re not taking their shit anymore.”

Ann chuckled. “Yeah, I’m not here to be a pawn in a game of publicity chess.”

Shawn sighed and walked around the counter, holding his hands out to her. “They want me and Camila to be engaged, and then have a huge wedding covered by all the major media outlets. I don’t want my life playing out this way anymore.”

She kept her arms folded. “A fake wedding is where you draw the line? Really?”

“If I’m gonna have a wedding, it’s gonna be with you,” he told her.

That particular topic wasn’t new information. Shawn and Ann had talked about marriage in the past and when would be the right time. How their cultures and subcultures were going to come into play. How they would go about it with all this Shawmila nonsense. That’s why Ann remained serious.

“Weddings are clearly not a big deal if these business people are willing to just throw a fake one together. I’m sure your fake girlfriend will look beautiful in a stupid white gown.” She rolled her eyes.

“I wanna see my real girlfriend in a stupid black gown,” Shawn corrected.

 Ann cracked a small grin, but it faded quickly. She sucked in a breath as her face contorted.

“What? What is it?” Shawn asked, concern quickly replacing the building frustration.

She breathed out. “Nothing, just cramps.”

“Stomach cramps? Nausea? What did you eat?”

“Period cramps. I don’t get any of that often but when I do…”

You’re moody as hell and question everything I do, Shawn thought. Only a second later, guilt formed in his chest.

NEXT

_______

goth gf taglist @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @strangerliaa @kitykatnumber @mendesromano @iloveshawnieboi @goldenmndes @parkeraul @someoneunimportantxx @shawnvvmendes @calyumthomas @softmendesss @wronglanemendes @theprivatewritings @peruvian-bae

[twentytwojuiceboxes]

You Look Radiant, My Love

Listen to it here

I’m back with another playlist y’all!!! This one is for @moralitas amazing ocs Xaoc and Lulcana. As soon as I heard their story I just had to make one. Againg like last time, I'll explain my song choices below. This one is not as long as the last one I made but hopefully its just as good! Enjoy!!!!!

1. Colibria - Nicola Cruz

Cuenta la historia, De una niña, Que nació del volcán, Que nació del volcán, No le tiene miedo a nada, No. Apenas aprendí a caminar, Me dejaron solita, En la cascada.

So the lyrics for this one reminded me of a folktale/legend kind of character, which is how I think Xaoc would be portrayed as in their cultures history. The part about being left alone is from Xaocs pov, referring to how they were basically isolated from people and not being allowed to get close to others. And last, the whole sound of the song, especially the ending speaks of their power to me; also it sounds cool lol

2. We Appreciate Power - Grimes

What will it take to make you capitulate?, We appreciate power, We appreciate power, When will the state agree to cooperate?, We appreciate power, We appreciate power, power

This one is for Lulcana. I love this song for her, at least for the beginning of the story because it sounds like a powerful alien trying to take over. Which is what she is lmao. I wanted something that could convey her power and resolve as one of the Black Arms greatest hive queens.

3. Phase a - Machine Girl

. . . .

No lyrics for this one. I wanted a song for their fights. They are both really powerful beings and their battles are super intense, and I love this song for that.

4. Bedroom Hymns - Florence and The Machine

This is as good a place to fall as any, We'll build our alter here, Make me your Maria, I'm already on my knees, You had Jesus on your breath, And I caught him in mine, Sweating our confessions, The undone and the divine

I absolutely love this song. Before love, there’s just really intense f e e l i n g s and that’s what this song is. The drums, the pace of the song, the notes that Florence hits *chefs kiss* perfect for these two.

5. Algo Está Cambiando - Bomba Estéreo

Algo está cambiando en mi, creciendo, Algo está cambiando en ti, lo siento, Me voy a buscar una luz pa iluminar, Todos estos momentos, Dejando todo lo que tenga que dejar, Y seguir creciendo

This song. This was the very first song I thought of for Xaoc and Lulcana. The lyrics, the feeling, the sound, just everything I love it. This is supposed to be when things start to change between the two of them; from intense battle lust/ lust to something softer, something more real. The end of the song, I imagine them just......being together. Being with each other.

6. So Heavy I Fell Through the Earth - Grimes

Yeah, oh, So heavy I fell through the earth, Yeah, oh, 'Cause if I can fall, Yeah, oh, So heavy I fell through the earth, Yeah, oh, 'Cause I'm full of love from you

It’s more about the feel of this one than anything. It sounds so ethereal, it made me think of how their love can transcend anything. Time, space, death, nothing can break their love.

7. While We’re Young - Jhené Aiko

Baby while we're young, I think we should do something crazy, Like say "Fuck everyone", And just run away from the daily routine, Yeah you know what I mean, I'm tellin' everybody you're mine and I like it, And I really hope you don't mind, I can't fight it, No, you know I cannot hide it 'cause I am so excited, That I finally decided on you

I wanted Xaoc and Lulcana to have one lighthearted song dammit, and they’re gonna have one. They like to think about another time, another place, another world, where they could be together. No cult, no hive to lead, no war; just them, their house, and their own lives. They could love each other with no consequences.

8. home with you - FKA twigs

But I've seen my love and I thought it belonged to you, Mary Magdalene would never let her loved ones down, I, didn't know that you were lonely, If you'd have just told me, I'd be home with you, I, didn't know that you were lonely, If you'd have just told me I'd be running down the hills to you

The reality of the situation is that there is a war. And there are consequences to their love, should they ever tell anyone. So they don’t. They keep it to themselves, they cherish it and each other. But no matter how hard they pretend, no matter how sweet a moment, there’s always gonna be that worry, that sadness hanging over them. I love this song because you can hear the love and tenderness in it, but it has some slightly unsettling borderline discordant moments in that I feel portrays all that emotion perfectly.

9. Red Sorrow - Audiomachine

. . . . . . . . .

It’s all about the emotion in this one. Xaoc and Lulcana’s final battle. The last time they’re together, face to face. What words can be said when you have to kill the one you love?

[chilly-me-softly]

Anniversary • Giovani Lo Celso

Request: For the one year progect - Gio making your one year anniversary special (one year anniversary because it’s your blogs one year anniversary) thank you so much for the effort you put into your writings they are honestly amazing and i love reading them

Thank you anon, for choosing me and believing in me every day. Hope you like this one too 💙

It hadn't been love at first sight, neither of us had lingered long enough to look at the other. He was with his friends, you with yours, and although you went out together several times because you belonged to the same group of people, you had never exchanged more than a hello.

And then the situation suddenly turned upside down, all it took was a party at someone's house and a drink spilled on your dress and suddenly that invisible line that kept you apart was broken. You'd been sitting on the sidelines all night, talking and laughing as if you'd just met - and you had kind of.

You enjoyed being in his company, Gio is a good person before being a good listener. He's a bit like you, shy and a bit on his own to seem at times annoying, but together you were pure explosion. There were times when you just shyly smiled at each other from two different corners of the room, but when you were together your friends almost didn't recognize you. More relaxed, more open, less silent and more words.

It was inevitable from that moment on, the more you got to know each other, the more you wanted more. You were fine silent, you were fine laughing, you were fine alone and in company. One drink had made you loosen up, and you hadn't even drunk it.

The first time you held hands, you both blushed. Gio's life is so hectic that sometimes you forget that you're still talking about a 24-year-old boy - even younger at the time. Two young boys who, despite apparently getting the success they deserve in the workplace by pursuing their dreams, still have a lot to experience in the personal life.

The first kiss is special. You are at Gio's house to spend a quiet evening together, something to eat and a movie in the background to which neither of you is giving much importance because you ended up talking about something else. You can't help but wonder why you haven't done it before, when he breaks away from you still smiling and then approaches you immediately afterwards and leaves you another little kiss on those lips stretched out in a tender smile.

And it is that date - the day of your first kiss - that you take as a reference to celebrate every milestone in your relationship. Video calls when it was far away, sleepless nights because you can't sleep, walks or just being together in the house lead you to get to know each other more and more. To make that feeling grow day after day, to desire physical contact with each other, a smile, anything as long as it includes you two.

You're in London now in the house where Gio has lived since he went to Tottenham. Your first anniversary together is just around the corner and there's no way in the world you'd spend it apart. Twelve months could be considered a short period of time if you think about the average life of a person nowadays, it had gone by so fast that if you look back you are sure you can still smell the perfume Gio was wearing that day or the slight caress on your cheek just before kissing you.

It's crazy, and yet your life has undergone some changes since then. Again, a year seems like a short time but so many things have changed. Gio plays on a different team than just months before, everything is still uncertain and for the moment no one wants to talk about more serious things even though you are currently living in two different countries.

"Buenos días, mi querida" Gio leaves a kiss almost under your ear, holding you from behind, and you sigh enjoying the warmth of his body against yours a little more. Before he starts to rub something soft on your arm and on your cheek and under your nose, forcing you to open your eyes and come face to face with a red rose. Good morning, my love.

"Feliz aniversary" Happy anniversary.

"Gio" you whisper softly turning in his arms to give him a kiss, "Feliz aniversario"

"¿Quieres mi regalo ahora o después ?" he asks with a note of fun in his voice, he knows you too well in fact he's already stretching his arm to get the package hidden in the drawer while you answer. Do you want my gift now or later?

"¡¿Tienes que preguntar?!" making him laugh. Do you even have to ask?!

"Para ti" a small square package is in your hands and you remove the bow immediately, placing it carefully by your side before you see how to open that little box. For you.

You look at the contents of the box and your gaze moves shocked on Gio's face, who smiles immediately.

"Sé que no llevamos mucho tiempo juntos, pero no importado cuando se que te quiero. Me ofrecido un contrato permanente, y no voy a sign si no estás de acuerdo en mudarte conmigo" I know we haven't been together long, but it doesn't matter when I know I love you. They offered me a solid contract, and I'm not going to sign if you don't agree to move in with me.

"Te ofrecieron... ¿qué ?" surprise is evident in your voice which makes him laugh. You take that key and you turn it around, it seems to weigh a ton but the decision is so easy to make. They offered you what??

"Sí, sí, claro que acepto Gio. Oh, Dios mío" you murmur as he leans over and kisses you. Yes, yes, of course I accept Gio. Oh, my god.

You stay in bed a little longer that morning, you get him to explain in detail what the new contract is, pretending to be offended that he didn't tell you the exact moment he knew, waiting for him to kiss and cuddle you back.

Then after a shower together, Gio takes you on a tour of the city. He's also just arrived there, but you have fun wandering around the streets of that city like two tourists, him pointing out every place he finds classifying it as yours. Your bench where you can make out, your new favourite coffee shop, the way back to your home...

And when you get to the front door, he looks at you waiting.

"¿Qué pasa ?" you ask with one eyebrow raised and he still smiles at you. What?

"Tu nueva llave está esperando a ser usada. Sé que lo tienes en tu bolsillo" you lure him to you leaving a kiss on his lips before you open. Your new key is just waiting to be used. I know it's in your pocket.

"Te quiero"