#see. i’m like. fluent already

[bubervitch]

i think i can probably learn a language if i just think about it hard enough

[bia-wayne-west]

Milk with cookies and bedtime stories [Batmom x Damian Wayne]

Synopsis: It was just a few months ago that Damian was included in the Wayne family. He still didn’t like you, but you tried so hard to make him appreciate you. During a patrol, Damian got hurt and after Alfred took care of the little boy’s wounds, you surprised him with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

Characters: Damian Wayne and Reader [YOU]

A/N: I wrote this quickly. Hope you like. In this imagine, Batmom has been married to Bruce since he adopted Dick.

I want to apologize if there are any writing errors. I'm a Brazilian girl and I don't speak fluent English, so I may make some writing mistakes. Feel free to correct me.

I hope you read, like and feel how cute Damian is.

Requests are open

MASTERLIST

You were sitting on the kitchen stool, reading a fashion magazine while you waited for your husband to return from patrol.

Bruce forbade you to stay in the Batcave, as he was afraid that someone would break in and find you, alone and unprotected.

As soon as you felt the ground shake, it meant that the Batcave had opened and that Batman had arrived with his Robin, Red Robin, Red Hood and Nightwing.

You ran to the clock that gave access to the secret entrance to Batcave. The elevator quickly took you to where your children and husband were.

“Hey, my love. You got back before 5am!” You said, running up to Bruce Wayne. He still wore black clothes and was without a mask. Your husband didn’t respond. He was serious and had a worried expression on his face.

“A man dropped Damian from a three-story building .” Bruce said looking at the boy who was sitting next to Alfred.

You finally noticed Damian, whose face was bruised and his leg was bandaged. You walked over to the boy and knelt in front of him.

“I’m fine, Y/N. I fell on top of a car and didn’t break any bones.”

“Damian, darling, are you hurt?” You asked, looking into Bruce’s son’s green eyes.

You smiled, in a motherly way. Damian didn’t consider you a mother, unlike the other three boys who called you ‘mother’ and ‘mommy’ all the time. Your husband’s son only considered you as a stepmother, but that didn’t stop you from taking care of him as if he were your son.

“I’m going to run you a hot bubble bath. After Alfred takes care of you, I think you’ll want to relax in the warm water.”

“Thank you, Y/N, but I’m not your baby.” He said rolling his eyes and turning his face to look at Alfred.

“Damian!” Bruce warned his son. But you smiled at your husband, showing that everything was okay. You left the Batcave, heading back to the mansion to prepare Dami’s bath.

(…)

Damian was already in his room. You were heading to the boy's room, with a tray in your hand.

The clock said 2:32 am, but you were sure the boy hadn't slept yet. The Waynes used to sleep only when the sun came up.

Yout left hand knocked lightly on the wooden door with the boy's initials engraved on it. Ypur ears picked up a “you can come in”, authorizing you to enter Damian’s room.

“I came to see if you were okay, Dami.” You said, entering and closing the door behind your body. Your arms came off the tray on the bed, seeing that the boy was sitting on the mattress. “I brought milk and cookies, this will definitely make you feel better.”

“Why do you do these things, Y/N?” He asked, with a questioning look.

“I didn't understand. Don't you like what I do for you?”

“At first I thought you had a plan to win me over and then you would hate me for being Bruce's biological son.” He said, seeing you take a cookie and offer it to him.

“I would never do that. I love you, Dami, even if you don't like me. These things I do for you are normal motherly actions.”

“My mother didn’t do any of that. She only got cookies when she did something good.” He said, his eyes shining like he was going to cry.

“Oh baby. I know you don't consider me your mother and I don't want to force you into anything, but I want you to know that these things I do are because I love you.” You explained, smiling widely at him and drinking some milk. “Do you know what my mother did for me when I was hurt?”

“No.” He said, while devouring several cookies. “She also gave you cookies and milk?”

“Yes, and she also told me a bedtime story.” You argued, running your hand through the boy's hair. “I'll tell you a story.”

“I’m not four years old, Y/N” He murmured.

“Damian, you’re not old enough to hear a good story before bed.”

“OK. Just don't tell stories about princesses or ponies.”

“Clear. I'm going to tell the story of a boy called Dami. He was so brave and beautiful, he was a strong and fearless boy.” His lips formed a smile as he said the words. Damian's eyes were bright and sweet. “One day, he went to the forest to play with the birds and found a portal to a magical world.”

“Like Narnia?: He asked, completely interested in your story.

“Yes, but without the closet. The magical portal led to a kingdom full of witches, fairies, vampires and any magical creature you can imagine.”

“Even elves?” He questioned you again. Now Damian was lying in bed and you covered him with the blanket.

“Of course, elves can't be missed.” You said. Your heart filled with love and you almost cried when you saw the image of the boy who hated you six months ago totally interested in a bedtime story. “In that kingdom there was a crystal that served as oxygen for all beings there, but a terrible villain broke this crystal and stole its essence, leaving the world without magic.” Damian still had complete fun with your narration. “Then, the queen called Martha went and asked the brave Dami to hunt down the villain and recover the essence of the crystal.”

“And he did this?”

“Yes! Dami took a sword and shield and went out to the magical kingdom in search of the villain. He went to an ancient village in the kingdom called Gothym and met three knights named Grayson, Todd and Drake. They sent Dami to the mountains where he would find the villain.”

“And he found it?”

“He found it, but it was difficult. The villain was hiding in a ruined castle north of Gothym. Dami fought bravely with the villain and defeated him. Dami recovered the essentials of the crystal and in exchange, Queen Martha gave him a personal portal to return to the kingdom as often as he wanted. Dami was a brave hero and defeated the evil villain.” You told the story while running your hand affectionately through the boy's hair. “Did you like the story?”

“Yes, it was the best story anyone told me.”

“I'm glad you liked it, my love. If you want, I can tell you a story every night.”

“Todd would make fun of me if he knew.” He said, looking at you so intently that you knew he was embarrassed for having liked the story.

“I'm gonna tell you a secret. I told Dick, Jason and Tim stories for three years, but they didn't want to.”

“Did you tell Todd bedtime stories?” He asked loudly, as if it were some blasphemy.

“Of course, and he loved them all.”

“So I want to hear stories before bed.”

“I'll love telling you, along with a glass of milk and cookies. Good evening, Dami.” You said getting up from the bed. Your lips found the boy's forehead.

“Good night, mom.” He said, making you look surprised at him. “I can call you mom? Since Dick, Jason, and Tim call you Mom, I thought you might as well.”

“Of course, my dear. You can call me mother and I will call you my son.” Your arms wrapped around the body of the boy, your son. Love seemed to explode in your heart. “Good evening, my dear son.”

“Good nigh, mom.”

You gave Damian one last kiss on his forehead, before picking up the tray and taking it to the kitchen. After washing the dishes, you went to the master suite, the room shared between you and Bruce.

Your husband was lying on the king size bed, waiting for you. After showering and putting on your pajama, you laid down on the bed.

“Damian called me mom.” You said to Bruce, earning a smile from him.

“With bedtime stories, milk and cookies.”

“How did this happen?” He asked, setting aside the iPad he was using to hug you.

[steventhusiast]

modern au where eddie and robin are roommates and steve is italian <3

-

eddie has always known that his roommate robin is in the US for college, but grew up in and is from italy. sure, sometimes he forgets, because she somehow has a near-perfect american accent and also speaks two other languages, but he’s always known.

and for the past year and a bit, he’s known how much robin wants her best friend stevie to come visit. she talks about them all the time, and ever since she and eddie moved out of the dorms and into an apartment together for their next year of university a month ago, he’s known stevie is going to come and visit.

he just kind of forgot the exact day stevie would be arriving.

so when he, clad in nothing but his garfield pyjama pants and a metallica t-shirt that’s falling apart, walks into the kitchen one morning and sees someone he doesn’t know at the kitchen counter fiddling with their instant coffee machine, he almost shits himself.

luckily, he doesn’t, because he remembers in that split second that stevie was due to arrive last night. but he still flinches pretty hard at the fright and grabs for the nearest grabbable thing, which turns out to be the doorframe. somehow, he makes a noise loud enough to get the mystery person’s attention, and they turn around.

holy shit. eddie did not know stevie is hot. or that stevie’s actually a guy. he kind of just assumed, with the nickname and all? but the man standing there looks like he could’ve been carved by the gods eddie doesn’t believe in, and- eddie realises he’s been staring at the guy for a few seconds now, and decides to talk like a normal human being. he first adjusts his position so he’s no longer holding onto the archway of the kitchen for support, and smiles at the guy.

“hi, you must be stevie?” he offers, and stevie takes a few seconds to process his words before nodding with a smile.

“my name is steve. robbie just is… hm, silly?”

eddie blinks a couple times, because steve has an accent. a thick one. he should’ve expected that, because- hello? they’re both literally from italy. but it catches him off guard, and adds to steve’s hot factor. why didn’t robin warn him about this.

“yeah, robin is very silly.” he agrees with a chuckle, and then realises steve might not know him, “i’m eddie. robin’s roommate. you probably knew that already though, so now i probably look like an idiot. well- more of an idiot than i already do in these clothes…”

he lets his words trail off as he realises steve is frowning at him in subtle confusion. he’s picked up robin’s rambling-when-nervous habit over their friendship, and hot guys tend to make him pretty nervous. but then he realises maybe steve isn’t as fluent in english as robin is, and even if he is eddie’s a fast talker that doesn’t always pronounce things fully.

“i am sorry,” steve looks embarrassed, “my english is not as good as robin.”

eddie feels so guilty at the pink that’s made itself known on steve’s cheeks, and shakes his head immediately.

“no! you don’t need to be sorry. i just talk a lot when i’m nervous.” he confesses. why did he say that? now steve knows he’s nervous. or does he? maybe he didn’t catch his full sentence.

steve raises one eyebrow at eddie though, and one side of his mouth quirks up into a smile as he turns around to keep trying to make himself a cup of coffee.

“i am making you nervous? why?” steve asks, his back still turned. now eddie’s the one with red cheeks. dammit.

“it’s because eddie here thinks you’re hot, stevie.”

eddie’s flinch at robin’s magical appearance behind him is somehow more spectacular than earlier, and he clutches dramatically at his heart and spins around to glare at robin.

“robin! what the fuck, man!” he yelps when he realises what she’s said. but robin isn’t listening, she’s too busy speaking to steve in italian about who knows what.

probably about how she knows all eddie’s tells for when he finds a guy attractive and how she knows eddie’s type and steve checks every single box. or, eddie squints at the pair as robin tsks at steve and takes over manning the coffee machine, maybe robin’s just telling steve how to make a coffee with the machine?

“you think i am…” steve starts as he spins around to look at eddie, and seems to be searching for a word for a few moments, “attractive?”

eddie’s eyes widen, and then he sighs and fixes a glare on robin. robin just shrugs and makes a very insincere ‘oopsie’ expression, and eddie is about to start denying like his life depends on it, but he looks back at steve.

and steve has that blush back on his face, and a tiny smile, and he’s looking eddie up and down even in his ridiculous outfit.

“um, yes.” eddie practically squeaks, not used to having someone’s eyes on him like this.

steve says something to robin in italian that sounds like it ends with a question mark, and robin rolls her eyes.

“steve wants me to translate a pick up line he wants to use on you, but i literally refuse to do that. google translate is free.”

and with that, she leaves the kitchen.

[greensagephase]

For Better or Worse - Part 2

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: Overwhelmed, you seek a moment of solitude on your sister's wedding day at the garden, but you can't even have that thanks to your sister's now brother-in-law, Miguel. Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: use of y/n; no name for your sister still (I think we're just going to go with a nickname); some cussing; alcohol consumption; pesky aunts and a divorced man offer unsolicited opinions; some Spanish but translations are provided in text; a bit of arguing; suggestive content, so MDNI, please!; reader is fluent in Spanish; I think that's all A/N: hiiii, finally updating this after two months 🫠 But anyway, I just wanted to give a big thank you to @lauraolar14 for the amazing fanart she made from part 1!! Found here ! Thank you, Lara!! 🥰 Pls go and support her!! Masterlist | Spotify Previous Part

You down a glass with water and place it on a tray just as a waiter offers you another drink. You politely decline before letting your gaze wander around the elegant venue your sister and Gabriel chose for the reception, thinking how it’s truly beautiful and perfect for the wedding they both envisioned.

Your eyes eventually land on the newlyweds as they dance, a smile tugging at your lips. They’ve been dancing nonstop since their first dance, which means their feet will likely be sore tomorrow. However, by tomorrow afternoon they should be in their honeymoon destination, relaxing from the last couple of days of last minute wedding shenanigans and basking in their newlywed energy.

“Aww, sweetie,” someone says, ripping your attention from your sister and now brother-in-law. It’s one of your aunts. You offer a polite smile as she approaches, your gut warning you about her intentions. “Look at you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Look at me…?” you state but it sounds more like a question.

“This must be so hard for you,” your aunt says, taking your arm and holding it, with a sad tone that matches the frown on her face.

You hold back from sighing in annoyance, recognizing where this is going. You’ve heard it twice already from two other aunts.

“Not really. I know she’s the baby of the family, but well, we all grow up, right?” you reply, forcing a smile. You hope your words will deter your aunt from explaining what she truly means, but unfortunately for you, it doesn’t.

“Aw, not that, sweetie. I mean, yes, but I was referring to how hard it must be for you as the eldest. Seeing your younger sister get married before you - it must be so hard. You should’ve been married by now, maybe with a little toddler at your side. Instead, you’ve found yourself witnessing your younger sister marry first, and who knows, maybe pregnant in a few months, but cheer up, sweetie. Don’t let this make you feel less, okay? Sometimes… Not everyone has the pleasure of marrying and experiencing motherhood, but that’s alright. I’m sure you have other… things that bring happiness to you, like… your job?” your aunt says, giving your arm what she thinks is a reassuring squeeze, but is rather an uncomfortable one. On top of that, she’s delivering another jab at you she doesn’t even know she’s making. “I’m sure that brings a lot of satisfaction to you.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” you force yourself to say with a fake smile that seems to go past your aunt. You silently pray she leaves you alone and that this is the last time you have to hear the same “comforting” and “reassuring” words for the night. You hope so, or you’ll slap someone. Mentally, of course. You’d never cause any kind of commotion publicly, much less at your sister’s wedding when you care so deeply about her and Gabriel. Besides, that’d give the people a field day and fill their minds with thoughts of you being “jealous” or “resentful” about your sister marrying before you.

Thankfully, your aunt leaves, off to offer more unsolicited advice and words of comfort, probably.

“Mierda [shit],” you sigh just as you hear a man somewhere behind you.

“Ah, Miguel! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Working all the time, huh?”

Subtly, you glance behind you at the man’s words. You didn’t even know Miguel was nearby, but now knowing he is, you wonder if he heard your aunt. You hope he didn’t as the last thing you want is Miguel to think you were looking at the newlyweds with jealously and that that was the reason your aunt felt the need to provide those “reassuring” words.

“Yes, yes. I stay busy working,” you hear Miguel reply.

“Good for you. And you’re still single?” the man asks.

“Si. No tengo pareja [Yes. I don’t have a partner],” Miguel replies, a hint of humor in his tone.

“That’s good, that’s good! No plans of marriage in sight for you. It’s better that way. You can spend your money how you want to, no children involved, no woman bothering you about grand gestures, or making you spend money. Enjoy your youth, have your fun. Maybe later on, you can settle down.”

You continue to watch the people on the dance floor, but you can’t help but scoff to yourself at the difference.

Your aunt was just pitying you about not being married and having children, but Miguel is being celebrated for the same thing by this man when he’s a few years older than you. You grab a glass from a waiter’s tray, thanking him. “I need one, or two after the crap I’m hearing,” you murmur to yourself as he walks away.

“You think so?” Miguel asks. “At my age, people think I ought to be married. Maybe with a kid or two.”

“No, no. Trust me, it’s better. That’s why I divorced.”

“I thought it was your wife who divorced you,” Miguel says gently. Despite the gentleness, Miguel’s words tear down the man’s attempt to make it seem like he had been the one to make the decision, and had you been watching Miguel, you would’ve noticed his raised brow to go along with it.

“Ah - well. Yes… But who cares? I’m divorced and free. I’m doing better than I was.” The man laughs. “I’m doing so, so, so great...” he says trailing off before chugging down some alcohol, a sign of a man who is most definitely doing great.

You roll your eyes. God bless that woman, she made the right choice divorcing the idiot behind you.

“Yeah, well…” you hear Miguel start. “I guess marriage is not for everyone. I’m not going to say it’s not for me, though. Who knows? Maybe one day a woman catches my attention.”

“You’ll be a miserable man, trust me. Don’t let any woman lure you into the marriage trap. You’re too young. Enjoy your youth. Go on dates. Have fun, if you know what I mean,” the man says, using a tone that leaves no doubt about what he’s referring to.

You decide you’ve heard enough, so you walk away, glass in hand. You glance at your sister and Gabriel from the sidelines of the dance floor, still dancing and lost in their own little and magical bubble. The sight brings a smile to your face once more before you turn, seeking a moment to yourself.

You step out of the venue, sighing deeply as you walk into a garden area where photos were taken earlier in the day. You briefly recall the photo session and how you were forced to take some photographs with the groom’s best man, who looked equally displeased to stand next to you, the maid of honor. You stood next to each other, stiff as surf boards and hands clasped in front of you with the most serious faces.

“This is the most scoffs, eye rolls, and scowls I’ve ever seen in a photo shoot. C’mon, guys! You’re the maid of honor and the best man. And -” Arturo, the cameraman, paused, walking closer. “Respective eldest siblings to the bride and groom. You should be acting like - a family. Here, let’s just move a little closer,” he said, finding it easier to move you instead of Miguel, and moving you closer to him.

You stiffened even more at that and Miguel scoffed at the way you were acting, like he had some incurable disease.

“You, too, señor [sir]. Please step closer,” Arturo gently demanded.

That earned Arturo a scoff and a glare.

“Yeah, O’Hara. Move closer and stop wasting time,” you added, innocently.

“Thank you, señorita [miss],” Arturo replied happily, believing he had at least turned your attitude around when in reality, you were simply taking the opportunity to poke fun at Miguel. It was the only way to make the photo session bearable.

With an eye roll, Miguel stepped closer until his arm brushed against yours. “Better?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Better,” Arturo confirmed. “Though…” he trailed off, frowning.

“You look like a three-day old piece of bolillo [savory bread in MX + other Latin countries],” you said all too seriously. “Stiff.”

Arturo, bless his heart, turned away and attempted to hide his shock.

With a poker face, you turned to look at Miguel and found a scowl, his eyes on you already.

“A three-day old piece of bolillo?” he repeated, annoyance dripping from his mouth. “And what are you? A fresh, sweet, soft piece of cortadillo [a kind of pan dulce; Mexican pastry], I suppose?”

You snorted at that. “I’m flattered you think of me like that. Cortadillo is so good,” you replied, smirking softly.

“Dios mio [my God], I’m just trying to do my job and those two are talking about pan dulce [Mexican pastries],” Arturo complained from somewhere, thinking he was quiet enough that he wasn’t going to be heard, but he was.

Miguel and you stared at each other as the cameraman’s words of frustration rang in your heads. You held each other’s gazes and as much as you both wanted to keep the glares and scowls, Arturo made both of you smile and then burst into quiet laughter.

In the end, Arturo got his opportunity with that moment of laughter and managed to capture the best man and maid of honor smiling in each other’s presence before you both ran off to get other duties done once the photographs were done.

You shake your head from the memory and look up at the garden lights hanging over you, giving the area a whimsical look, before you walk further away from the door and into a less well-lit area.

You sigh deeply again, something you’ve found yourself doing too much lately. The comments from your pesky aunts and the conversation you overheard have caused you some irritation, but it’s not just that. You’ve been trying to ignore a problem that’s been weighting on you all day. You’ve tried not to let it dampen your mood, today being your sister’s wedding, and you had succeeded until now. On a normal day, those conversations with your aunts and the man’s words to Miguel would’ve mattered little to you, but with the big issue in your life right now, they’ve managed to put you in a bad mood.

The big issue?

You were forced to resign from your job two days ago, leaving you unemployed.

It wasn’t anything that you did, but rather what you refused to do that led to the decision. You grimace in disgust just thinking about it all over again. You started working at the company two years ago and everything was great with you rising up the ranks quickly due to your hard work and determination, but as you rose higher and higher, you were warned.

You were told to be cautious of your boss and his wandering hands. You did your best to avoid him on your own and always kept a professional attitude to set clear boundaries. Foolishly, you thought you were safe with two years in and no impropriety on your boss’s side, but you were wrong.

Two days ago, he cornered you in his office to make his move. Of course, you made it known you weren’t interested nor willing to do anything beyond what is professional. Even when you were promised a promotion if you “played” the game, you refused - something that angered your boss. Apparently, the disgusting man believed you’d accept his advances. Despite taking it to HR, nothing was done because of the position and status your boss holds within the company. You knew then that you needed to leave the company, so you did.

You don’t regret it. You’ll never give yourself away like that to some disgusting and horrible man, even if you’re unemployed now.

However, you don’t look forward to job searching and all that it entails. Thinking about it makes you feel stressed and even some anxiety. Then, there’s also the words from your ex-boss, his promise to make it hard for you to find a job within your field.

You wonder. Surely he doesn’t have that much power, right?

You hope not.

You down the rest of the drink, briefly thinking about how you should probably stop drinking by now, but the unexpected change, one you’re carrying on your own because you refused to tell your family about it with the wedding coming up, is weighing heavily on you now.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the door open, follow by footsteps. You recognize it’s not a woman’s, at least you don’t think so since there’s no sounds of heels, but either way, you can’t help but feel annoyed that someone has stepped out and taken your small moment of solitude. You just wanted a moment to yourself, but it seems that whoever stepped out, decided otherwise.

“Ah, you’re here, too?”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to face Miguel O’Hara. Of course, it had to be him of all people.

Miguel stands a few feet from the door, hands inside the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants while staring at you. For some reason, your annoyance grows at the way it hugs him in what women would say the “right way,” which you’re certain many women did comment on tonight, considering you caught many staring at him like he’s a piece of candy. You’re sure many are probably having little fantasies of him now; recalling how tall he is for a Mexican man, his wide shoulders only enhanced by his suit jacket, and the way his hair frames his chiseled face so well like God himself styled it for him.

And if they shook his hand, they may be thinking about how large and warm it was, how it felt against their own.

There may even be some women imagining making their parents suegros [parents-in-laws] and planning some elaborate wedding in their heads, thinking the bride today will be like a sister to them.

“Yes,” you simply reply, turning away again and making it known you don’t wish to talk. He can stay over there, on his own little spot, and let you be over here, unbothered.

“Needed some fresh air?”

Great.

“Yes.”

Miguel snorts, decreasing the distance between you. He’s still not in your space, but he’s significantly closer now. “One-word answers. You must be having a night.”

You don’t reply. Maybe if you don’t he’ll go back inside, but with your luck recently, doubtful.

“Did the comments from your aunts get to you?” he asks suddenly when you say nothing else.

“What comments?”

“You know very well which ones. I happened to be there, you know. When the first aunt went over, the second one, and then, the third and last one.”

You scoff. “Didn’t know you were a chismoso [gossiper; masculine noun].”

Miguel snorts again. “It’s not my fault they talk so loudly and I happened to be there.”

True on the talking too loud, but you still wish he hadn’t heard, just like you wish you hadn’t heard him being celebrated for the same things you were being pitied on.

“Right, and are you here to offer words of comfort, too?” you reply in a snappy tone. “Or, are you out here to celebrate how you were recommended to stay clear from commitment by your friend?”

Miguel scoffs. You really think he’s that kind of man?

“If you heard the conversation, surely you heard what I said,” he replies defensively turning his body to face you now. “I don’t agree with that mindset.”

“You know -” you step back and pinch the bridge of your nose for a second. “I don’t care. Can you just - leave me alone?” you snap, stepping away. You don’t care about the topic anyway, it’s not the reason why you’re truly upset. Miguel O’Hara can do whatever he wants with his life and your aunts can nag and pity you, you don’t care. What you care about is the fact you lost your job the way you did and that now you’re unemployed.

“No,” Miguel says, upset. “I’m not. You seem to think you have me all figured out, don’t you? Just because we’ve never been two to get along. I’m not that kind of man.”

“I don’t care what kind of man you are. This isn’t about you.”

Miguel steps forward, his body brushing against your arm making you turn to face him, too. You glare at him.

“This isn’t about me, but I’m receiving the brunt of your anger.”

“I’m not angry about what you think I am, alright? I could care less what my aunts said, what that man said to you, though it’s unfair, but it’s not what’s on my mind. So, do me a favor and drop it. Leave me alone. You’re not the center of my world,” you reply with a scoff before turning away from him.

“What a shame,” Miguel murmurs following you. He grabs your arm and pulls you back, his hand wrapping around your flesh with enough force to keep you still without hurting you. “¿Que te pasa [what’s the matter]? Why are you so upset if it’s not that, then?”

You tug at your arm, a fruitless attempt to free yourself since Miguel doesn’t let go.

“Answer the question,” he demands, those deep brown eyes looking straight at you.

“It’s none of your business,” you answer, still glaring at Miguel.

He scoffs, holding your gaze as you look at him like he’s the most disgusting thing your eyes could ever lay upon.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he mumbles, his grip tightening around your arm slightly, tugging you closer to him. With narrowed eyes, he holds your gaze for a few seconds before images of your lips flash in his mind from the dance lessons.

He had never been that close to you before, never held nor touched you.

Miguel had never noticed the way your eyelashes framed your eyes, the shape of your lips, nor had he ever noticed your scent, a mixture of your very own essence and perfume. It’s the kind of scent that makes a man weak in the knees and wish for a closer inhale. No, Miguel had never noticed those things about you and it was to his great annoyance that not only had he noted them, but that those details had also made him feel weird afterwards.

Miguel felt so off that he had to make up the excuse about having a call to make. In reality, all he did was step out and take some fresh air, his mind boggled with the entire situation from the comments the dance instructor made about the two of you being in love and sharing passion to his little stunt after your two left feet comment and your payback, which left an ache on his foot, to the details he had never noticed about you. His mind was boggled and yet, you were the same as always with him; annoyed by, distant from, and uninterested in him.

And for some reason, it bothered him that day.

When he went back inside, he found you on the other side of the dance studio, looking closely at the couple and offering some advice to help them, ignoring his presence. Even when the four of you met up at the parking lot once again after the dance lesson, your attitude was the same. Your sister and Gabriel asked if either of you were interesting in grabbing something to eat, but you declined so fast and stated you had other things to do before the wedding, “maid of honor duties” you called them.

He watched with a scowl as you got in your car and left, only having said bye to the couple while barely giving him a glance of acknowledgement despite the conversation you had just had about making things work for the sake of your sister and Gabriel.

Of course, Miguel declined the invitation, too. He was in no mood to be third wheeling and he did have some things to do for work, so he, too, left with thoughts of your annoying self on his mind.

He eventually placated his thoughts with work, including dealing with his team and the fact that his current assistant put in their four weeks. Thankfully, he still has some time left before his assistant leaves, which he hopes is enough time to find someone to fill in the position. Either way, his work helped him set his thoughts about you aside that day.

Now, Miguel pushes past his thoughts and focuses on you, still holding your arm.

“And what of it?” you reply to his comment about you being a brat, still glaring at him so fiercely and angrily about whatever you’re upset about, proving Miguel you can be such a brat sometimes.

For two seconds Miguel has a thought - bending you over his knee and teaching you a lesson to tame that bratty attitude of yours. Then, his brain betrays him and he imagines what you’d sound like if he did. Would you still be a little brat when his heavy palm makes contact with your rear, or would you whimper and -

“You’re so upset,” Miguel says in an almost breathless way, his mind blanking for a second. “If it’s not your aunts’ comments, then what is it? It must be something of importance, if it has you like this on your sister’s wedding day,” Miguel adds, trying to focus on the moment at hand and not on whatever the hell his brain is going on about. He decides, quickly, that he’s probably had a few too many tequila shots. That’s probably why his brain is acting up. Surely.

“As I said earlier, it’s none of your business,” you reply, once again trying to free your arm, but to no avail. The giant man has you rooted to his side.

“Bullshit,” Miguel replies. His brother married into your family and your sister into his, that makes the two of you something now, doesn’t it? You’re tied for life now, for better or worse, in this way thanks to your siblings. And, the two of you did agree to get along for their sake.

“No te metas en lo que no te importa [don’t get involved in what doesn’t bother you],” you snap. “Mind your business. We may have agreed to be civil, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be besties.”

“As if, princesita [little princess],” Miguel responds with a scoff. “I wouldn’t be able to take your little attitude for two hours, even if I was paid, much less be ‘besties’ with you.”

“We have that in common, at least. I wouldn’t spend a day with you, even for a million dollars,” you reply, even though you could really use a million dollars, especially now.

Miguel smirks, amused by your response, and pulls you closer. “Not even if I paid you two million?”

“Not even five.”

Lies, lies, lies. You wouldn’t be worrying about being unemployed if you had even just one million dollars in the bank right now.

Miguel shrugs. “Maybe it’s too little, they’re little numbers after all,” he replies with a cocky smirk, for some reason bragging about his wealth to you now, something he’s never done before to anyone, but then again, his brain is not working accordingly right now.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. You know Miguel is a CEO for a company you’ve never bothered to learn the name of, so you’re not surprised he has money, but saying five million dollars is “too little” is aggravating, and kind of shocking.

“Whatever, let go of me. Now,” you demand.

Miguel now scoffs at your demanding tone as if he couldn’t easily throw you over his shoulder and carry you off, or pin you against a wall.

“¿Qué tal si te digo que no? ¿Qué vas a hacer entonces, princesita? [What if I tell you no? What are you doing then, princess?]” Miguel replies, pulling you closer, so much closer his expensive cologne surrounds you.

You breathe it in, subtly of course. It’s rich, warm, and woody mixed in with his own scent. It’s the kind that sends a pool of warmth to your very core if allowed to inhale straight from a man’s neck with your nose pressed to his sensitive and warm flesh. You freeze for a second, the very thought almost makes you grimace, the fact that you’ve thought of such thing with Miguel of all men.

“You’re gonna slam your foot on mine again like the other day?” he asks mockingly, bringing you back to your senses.

“And mess your pretty, expensive shoes?”

Miguel snorts. “I can easily replace them.”

“So, you want me to slam my foot on yours? Is that what you’re saying?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

Miguel grins, leaning closer, so much closer. He continues to hold your gaze, holding you still.

You scoff, your gaze unwavering.

You’re such a little brat, Miguel thinks again, his hand tightening around your arm just a tad more.

“What? Can’t make up your mind now?” you ask with a smug smile.

He scowls, pulling you so much closer. Your breath fans his face and he finds himself growing still when he feels it against lips especially. He swallows deeply while holding your gaze, your scent filling his nostrils and making him lean almost instinctively.

“You can ruin the shoes, I’ll simply buy new ones. I’ll even get you some pretty heels for your trouble. ¿Trato [Deal]?” he asks quietly, his gaze flickering to your lips for a second.

And God, maybe it really is all the drinks you’ve both had tonight because you lean closer, too.

Suddenly, it feels like two rocks rubbing against each other, a spark of fire made beneath the moonlight.

“¿Que pasa [What’s wrong]? Cat got your tongue?” Miguel whispers with a smirk.

“No. I was just thinking about the color I'd like the heels,” you reply, sarcastically.

“Ah, the color. Don't worry, you can choose whatever color you like. Whatever brand. Saint Laurent, Burberry, Gucci…”

You snort. “Didn't know you were so giving, O’Hara.”

“You don't know me” Miguel replies, tilting his head a little.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a smirk that makes Miguel's heart skip a beat. He leans slightly closer, further decreasing the distance between your faces.

“I’m a man that likes to give - to provide,” Miguel continues, his hand tightening around your arm, his gaze flickering to your lips once more.

“Ah, interesting. You're the tree that keeps on giving, hm?”

“Such a smartass,” Miguel mumbles, eyes narrowing and meeting yours again. “One of these days that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

“I can't wait,” you reply defiantly.

Miguel scowls, your little defiance stirring something in him once more. He huffs, eyes moving to your lips yet again, not thinking straight. All he’s suddenly thinking about is closing the distance and shutting your mouth - with his own. He thinks about his mouth pressed against yours, about slipping his tongue in and swirling it around yours to taste you, to make you whine.

Meanwhile, you look at him, noticing his gaze on your lower face. You find yourself doing the same, your eyes landing on his full lips specifically. You silently wonder, despite yourself, what they’d feel like against yours and against your skin. The thought creates a fluttering feeling inside your chest, one that Miguel shares.

His heart races, his mind clouded with these strange thoughts. Miguel thinks about leaning in all the way and doing it, kissing you once and for all to satisfy a hunger and craving he’s suddenly overwhelmed with.

And he would've, if only the door leading to the garden hadn’t suddenly swung open before you both register voices.

You both pull away instantly, staring at each other like two deer caught in headlights. The realization hits the two of you like a ton of feathers at once, the truth echoing in your heads over and over again.

You were going to kiss.

You were going to kiss.

You were going to kiss.

The only thing that breaks Miguel and you from your shock are the sudden intimate noises, tearing your gazes from each other to see what’s the matter. It’s then that you both see a couple making out against the wall, totally unaware that Miguel and you are there due to the poor lighting.

Seeing the intimacy and hearing their noises of passion is all you need before you walk past Miguel, fleeing the garden area wordlessly to pull yourself together.

Miguel doesn’t try to stop you, not even when you brush past him. He stands there for a second or two before he, too, walks off in the opposite direction, hands clenched.

It’s not until you find yourself utterly alone once more that you stop walking. You stare at the ground, your heart racing while your mind plays the last few minutes over and over again. It makes no sense. There’s no way Miguel was about to kiss you, right? You huff in frustration and begin to pace back and forth, one hand clenched tightly around the glass you brought out with you as you try to make sense of the situation.

“Alcohol,” you say quickly to yourself, nodding. “Too much alcohol. It makes people do stupid things.” You nod once more, slowly calming yourself as you repeat this in your head.

At last, you stop pacing when you find reason for that near mistake.

Alcohol, which messes with your brain. Nothing more.

“Hey!”

Startled, you jump and let out a small gasp before turning. You find your mom, happily smiling.

“Come on! What are you doing out here all alone, mija [my daughter]?”

“Just - taking some fresh air,” you answer, walking over to her.

“Your sister and Gabrielito are about to cut the cake. They were wondering where you were,” your mom informs you, offering her arm to you.

You smile and accept your mom’s arm, embracing her comforting presence as you both head back inside the party.

“They were also looking for Miguel. You haven’t seen him, have you?” your mom asks, nearly making you trip.

“N - No, I haven’t,” you lie, clearing your throat and checking your shoe to pretend something is wrong with it to make up for you nearly tripping. “He’s probably talking with the men. They all seem like big fans of him.”

Your mom smiles, nodding. She hums softly as you both enter the venue again, the kind of hum that only moms can muster when they know something you don’t.

“I’m sure Miguelito is somewhere around here. Maybe he needed some fresh air, too,” your mom continues, patting your forearm as you fully enter the reception room now. “Let’s go get some cake.”

After eating cake and making toasts with your family and the guests, you stick near your parents’ side for the rest of the night, as a distraction to forget what almost happened earlier, until it’s time to see your sister and Gabriel off. You watch next to your parents as the newlyweds walk out of the venue, saying bye to the guests and other family members until it’s the immediate families’ turn at the end.

You hug your sister and Gabriel goodbye when it’s your turn, wishing them a great time and congratulating them yet again.

At last, the couple makes it to the car and gets settled. You smile softly as they wave goodbye one more time before the car departs. Watching the car grow smaller and smaller, the realization that your baby sister is married dawns on you. In the blink of an eye, she grew up and turned into a wonderful young woman. You briefly recall when she was a little girl, when she used to follow you everywhere because she wanted to do everything with you. And now, she’s all grown up and starting a new life with the love of her life.

A few feet away from you, Miguel does the same with a thoughtful expression on his face. He can’t believe Gabriel is now a married man, that he’s all grown up. He sighs, wondering where time went before he turns sideways, finding you staring in the direction of the car. He has no doubt you’re having similar thoughts like his, the two of you being the eldest siblings.

Sensing someone’s gaze, you turn, only to meet Miguel’s eyes. You stare at each other for a few seconds, the moment at the garden flashing through your minds like the highlights of a video with one particular part in replay: that moment when Miguel leaned forward and his gaze fell on your lips before you allowed yourself the same with his.

Your senses, both Miguel’s and yours, are overwhelmed in seconds. You easily recall each other’s scents, the warmth from your bodies, and the angry energy that slowly turned into something different due to the shoe talk before you fell into whatever that was at the end.

You blink at last and swallow deeply, pushing the memory away. You scoff at yourself, still holding Miguel’s gaze.

Damn alcohol and the things it makes you do and feel. Right?

You finally look away and walk off to meet your parents, not sparing Miguel another glance.

Miguel’s eyes follow you until you disappear from his sight. He runs a hand through his hair with a sigh, frustrated. He doesn’t even know if it’s at you or himself, or both. Or, maybe he’s just exhausted form the wedding planning and the actual wedding activities.

He doesn’t know anymore, just like he doesn’t know what he was thinking back at the garden. He turns away and scowls at himself. Okay, fine. He knew exactly what he was thinking: kissing and tasting you.

“Miguel-”

“What?” Miguel snaps, turning. He clears his throat when he finds Daniel, the man from earlier who was boasting about being divorced and advising Miguel to stay single for a while longer. He sighs and shakes his head. “Forgive me, Daniel. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s alright. You’re probably tired from the wedding. These things are always exhausting. I was just going to ask if you are interested in joining me and some of the other guys to a bar. It’s still early,” Daniel says before three other young men reach them.

Knowing the men, Miguel knows what kind of night they hope to have; one with no attachments but filled with carnal pleasure.

Miguel shakes his head. “Thank you for the invitation, but I’m too tired. And besides, I still have to wrap up some things here regarding the venue. You guys have fun.”

The other men boo him and one even dares to call him “old fashioned” since they know Miguel isn’t interested in those type of nights with strangers. They eventually walk away, leaving Miguel alone once more. He shakes his head as he sees them pull out of the parking lot before fishing for his own car keys inside his pockets.

The truth is, Miguel has no tasks related to the venue left. A cleaning crew was hired to take care of everything so neither families would have to worry about it. The food situation was handled and the gifts have been collected to be stored for now until the couple comes back from their honeymoon.

All Miguel needs to do is wish everyone a good night and head home. That’s it. Yet… His thoughts are a storm and you’re at the center of it, the culprit.

His gaze, despite himself, searches for you. He finally spots you several feet away talking with a man, one he doesn’t know personally. Miguel watches the interaction, noticing the closeness and the way you seem at ease with the individual. Hell, you’re even laughing at something the man says.

He looks away when the man places a hand on your forearm while talking, opting to gaze at the venue’s front gardens with trimmed bushes and perfectly aligned flowers.

Miguel suddenly realizes it. He’s stalling, but why? He turns to look your way again, discreetly, and the need to talk to you suddenly hits him. He needs to talk to you about what almost happened at the garden earlier. So, Miguel takes a few steps your way.

As he approaches you, he’s unsure of what he’d even say. I’m sorry for almost kissing you? Miguel cringes internally. Should he even bring it up? Talking about it makes it more real. It means acknowledging that that almost happened between you along with admitting some level of vulnerability, something neither of you have ever shared with each other.

He suddenly finds himself standing next to you and the man, his large strides making the walk a short one. The man stops talking and looks over at him, a look of confusion at Miguel’s sudden appearance. On the other hand, to Miguel’s annoyance, you give him a look of nonchalance.

“Excuse me,” Miguel starts, acknowledging the man. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but I need a word with Ms. Y/N.”

The man nods, looking somewhat disappointed. “I see. I’ll give you two a moment,” the man says despite you beginning to protest.

You watch the man, a son of one of your dad’s friends from work, walk away. Slowly, you turn to face Miguel, keeping a neutral expression. “Yes?”

“We need to talk about what happened,” Miguel says quietly, meeting your gaze.

“What happened?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

Miguel scoffs, his eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t give me that attitude.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“At the garden,” Miguel continues through gritted teeth in disbelief at your nonchalance.

You hum, tilting your head. “Nothing happened,” you respond.

“Are you kiddi-” Miguel starts but stops, his frustration mounting. He lowers his voice. “Don’t play stupid with me, princesita [little princess]. We both know you’re far from it.”

“You know what I know?” you ask quietly. “There’s nothing to discuss. Don’t make a storm in a glass of water, okay?” With that, you walk around him.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done talking,” Miguel replies, following you.

“As far as I’m concern, we have nothing to talk about. So, I’ll see you around, Mr. O’Hara,” you say, ending the conversation as you head to your car.

“Dammit,” Miguel murmurs, still following you.

You quickly unlock your car and get inside, slamming the door close. You start the car even when you see Miguel standing next to it, trying to talk to you. Sighing, you consider rolling your window down for a few seconds to let him talk, but at the same time you don’t wish to hear him out. A part of you knows that talking about what nearly happened will make it feel important when it’s not. Or, at least you’ve made yourself believe it’s not.

You shift the car’s gear, ready to drive off, but at the last second, you roll your window down. Facing forward and with your foot on the brake, you speak. “We’ve both had drinks. Alcohol makes people do things that they wouldn’t do when they’re fully sober, even with a little bit in their system. There’s nothing to discuss nor explain. Nothing happened and that’s what matters. I’m certainly not making a big deal out of it, nor have I been offended by what nearly happened, so if that’s what you’re trying to do - apologize - save it. Have a good night,” you state firmly before driving off, leaving a frustrated Miguel in the parking lot.

Through your rear view mirror, you look at him one more time. You find him watching you drive off, his arms at his sides in a stance that lets you detect his frustration clearly. At last, you look away, certain you’ve handled the situation accordingly.

A/N: Hiii, I'm sorry for how long it took me to update, but life got crazy in August due to a family member's death and then sickness. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed part 2! When I wrote part 1, I wasn't planning on this being a multiple parts fic, but with writing part 2, I guess I am now.

I'm unsure of how long this will be. Tbh, I'm hoping for it to be short 😭🙏🏼 Like, 10 chapters or so? Maybe less. I need to sit down and plan accordingly! As you can probably guess, this will transition into a CEO!Miguel x Assistant!female reader who are also now connected because of your sister and Gabriel, so I'm just letting you guys know the forced proximity will increase! 🙂‍↕️

Thank you for reading, and I hope you're having a great day/night!!

Alondra❤️

p.s. I have attached my side Spotify account in case you guys are interested in keeping up with the music I listened to while writing this chapter.

for the people that asked me to notify them for part 2: @vera4luv @safixiovi

[priniya]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 BEFORE US! ᡣ𐭩ᯓ

pairing. ollie bearman x webber!reader.

summary. a drunken encounter leads to a history straight out of rom–com, turning the world of a formula 2 driver upside down.

notes. reader tells ollie the plot of before sunrise. also, reader is said to be ollie’s age (kinda self-indulgent LOL) maybe part 2 of them meeting in spa? 😁

it was eleven in the evening, while you were having a good time on the streets of hungarian capital city. your actions were not exactly responsible as you were there with a friend of yours that you met online a few months ago. also, you weren’t exactly sure how you managed to strain away from your father and oscar. well, alright — there was a possibility that a train, a sweet smile and a promise to be safe were involved.

honestly, you don’t even know how you ended up in that small bar, but in the larger point of view, you were happy that you let lara drag you there. you already had a few drinks in, you were going back to your booth, when you accidentally bumped into a muscular, tall guy, spilling the drink on your white dress.

“shit, i am so, so sorry.” the boy — because you could easily notice that he must’ve been similar to you in age — spoke relatively slowly, probably out of kindness as he couldn’t tell if you were fluent in english or not. some would call it offensive, but you considered it slightly endearing that the boy tried to be as considerate as possible, knowing that not everyone in the world speaks english.

his face fell to your chest for a tenth of a second, a small cough escaping his lips, before his cheeks tinted pinkish from embarrassment that he even let himself be so blatantly disrespectful towards you. what made it even worse was that the once white dress became see-through.

“shit, shit, your dress. i– here, take this.” he stuttered, swiftly taking off his grey hoodie, letting you take a glimpse of his toned stomach for half a second as his shirt rolled up.

people around you two, suddenly stopped existing and maybe the alcohol you’ve consumed that night was at fault — or maybe it was the charming aura around him, but you honestly couldn’t care less. he was the only guy that wasn’t trying to harass you or make your night less fun and definitely more stressful.

“you shouldn’t apologise, it’s all my fault. i wasn’t paying enough attention.” your voice was loud, but yet still soft enough, so only the boy you bumped into could hear you. “i’m yn, my friend lara is there in the corner booth, do you… um, maybe wanna join us? so i can get you a drink for bumping into you?”

it might’ve been a risky move — he could always say no, laugh at you and go away, thinking you were the most embarrassing person in the entire bar. or he could think that you were a pretty cute, interesting girl that he’d like to spend a july evening with. and, fortunately for you, ollie introduced himself with a quick breath of relief (that he didn’t know he was holding), said that he’d love to join you and buy you a drink, but he was there with two other guys and one of the friends’ girlfriend.

so, upon hearing that, as a responsible human being, you… suggested that they should join you as well, because you really felt like getting to know ollie a tad better. upon hearing that he wasn’t there alone, you nodded with a small smile, before suggesting that it’s not really a big deal and that maybe the four of them would like to join you and lara, who wouldn’t have anything against it since she was a social butterfly, loving bigger crowds.

two and a half hour later, you ended up walking down the cobblestone pathway, while your newfound group of friends was a few steps ahead. lara quickly got along with kimi, eliska and gabriele, so you felt less guilty that you got so occupied in the endless conversation with ollie, slowly trailing behind the group. a month or two later, you were told by eliska that she saw the way you and ollie click and made sure you could get along.

you weren’t sure where the six of you were going, budapest was a gorgeous city, but keeping your eyes on bearman was pretty much enough. he had your arm hooked around his as you slightly started to stumble from the tiny gaps in the path. a giggle escaped your mouth as he whispered a really cheesy joke, his lips inches away from your ear. then, your drunken mind thought that you should come clean with the cute boy about why you’re actually in budapest.

“i have a confession.” you started quietly, your words barely above a whisper. ollie let you continue as he simply nodded. if you weren’t tipsy from all the strawberry daiquiris you had at the bar earlier, you would notice how his body tensed slightly, almost as if he was afraid of what you were about to say.

the first thing that came to his mind was that you had a boyfriend somewhere in monaco, while he was really getting a vibe from you that maybe you were interested in getting to know him as much as he wanted to get to know you. just half a second later came the thought that you knew who he was and it was just as awful. he hasn’t been in the spotlight of motorsport for a long time yet, but he was aware of how people’s perception on things change once they realise what he does, and he really, really didn’t want it to be the case with you.

“this is not something i usually tell people on the day i meet them, but you’re so genuine and so, so nice to me.” your words were coming off as rambling, though despite the lump in his throat, the prema driver couldn’t help but think that maybe he could live with the thought of you bumping into him on purpose if he could listen to your cute rambling for a few more minutes. “and i’m really enjoying spending time with you right now, and-and i don’t want you to think that i’m like a liar or something, because i really am not.”

“hey, breathe. whatever it is, i don’t think i’m gonna perceive you as a liar.” his quiet chuckle with a nervous undertone was enough for you to calm down a bit. his hand dropped to yours, squeezing it for a little more reassurance.

“that’s what i’m really hoping for.” you whispered, looking down at your jointed hands, a ghost of smile lingering on your face. “so, there’s this sport you might’ve heard of — or not, honestly if it wasn’t for my dad, i don’t know if i would, but — gosh, i’m sorry i’m rambling again. alright… there’s, um, formula one, right? i guess you know, because it is a big thing in england, i suppose.” oliver nodded once again, a pit in his stomach growing.

“the thing is… i’m in hungary for that exact reason. there was the grand prix this weekend and i came here with my dad, because, um… he’s a manager of, um, one of the drivers. oscar? he won today, yesterday, technically.”

ollie couldn’t believe what he just heard. he was so scared that you were pretending just to boast about hanging out with formula 2 and formula 3 drivers, while you were having an inner turmoil of your own, weighing pros and cons of telling him that you were the daughter of the mark webber. he could see the nervous expression on your pretty face and his heart swelled, knowing that in those two and a half hours of constant chatter he gained so much of your trust to be told that.

for other people it might seem like it was nothing, nevertheless ollie knew how much fake people you must’ve met in your life, who liked you for your father’s achievements and not you. god, for a moment he felt like crying.

“i was there too.” he gave you a shy smile. before you were able to overthink every possible scenario with the worst possible outcome, his smile widened, his hip gently nudging yours. “i’m racing for prema in f2.” he chuckled at your surprised expression.

bearman, as he was a tad more sober than you, could easily notice the weight falling off your shoulders, once you recognised him, quickly replaced by a blush of embarrassment that flooded your cheeks.

“that’s why i thought i’ve seen you somewhere.” you muttered, scrunching your nose, gears in your brain working overtime. “i’m sorry, it’s— i haven’t really been up to date with formula 2. but i remember you from saudi, i wasn’t there, but my dad was really impressed. everything makes sense now, though.”

“no need to be embarrassed or anything, i’m glad neither of us recognized each other. you made me feel like a normal teenager for once.” he grinned down at you, your face matching his as he let go of your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer, but you couldn’t really complain.

you didn’t remember the moment, when your night turned into a reenactment of one of your favorite rom-coms — before sunrise. gabriele, kimi and eliska had to go back to their hotels, suspiciously at the same time, when lara’s curfew was coming. it was truly reckless for you to stay out with ollie till your train back to the place your father had rented for the four days stay in hungary. once you were alone, he made sure to keep you close to him at all times, so if an emergency occured, he’d be able to protect you.

“i feel like i’m in a movie.” your admission was soft as you slowly sat down on the grass in the park, the state of your white dress long forgotten as it’d be green once the sun was up.

“a movie you like?”

“my favorite one.” ollie smiled.

“tell me about it.” he suggested, plopping down next to you, uncorking the wine you two bought earlier in one of those 24/7 shops.

“it’s about two people that met on a train going across the europe.” you started explaining, ollie’s free arm slung across your shoulders once again, making you realize what his love language must be. “he’s american and she’s french, once they stop in vienna, he asks her to get off the train with him and walk around the town with him till he has to go to the airport, because it’s his last day in europe. she thinks it’s crazy, but she agrees and they spend the entire night together. nothing kubrick-esque happens there, all of the action happens during their dialogues. they share opinions and stuff. it’s kind of silly, but they end up in a park, too, with wine and stuff.”

“like us.” he commented, his eyes still lingering on your face as they were, while you were skimming over the plot of the movie.

“like us.” you repeated softly.

“so, what do they do in the park?” ollie asked another question, earning himself a small hum from you as you shifted closer, his thumb absentmindedly drawing shapes on your shoulder. your stomach was filled to the brim with butterflies as he asked all the right questions, made all the right moves, giving you all the right smiles.

“they kiss.” a whisper left your lips, tilting your head to get a better view of his face.

“they kiss.” it was the prema’s driver’s time to repeat the short sentence as you just nodded, noticing the way his eyes flickered to your mouth.

sweet silence embraced the two of you as bearman took his chance and leaned forward an inch or two, cautiously testing the waters. when you didn’t pull back, a smile tugged onto his face, before cupping your cheek with his free hand.

however, ollie didn’t kiss you for a moment that felt like eternity. his mouth just hoovered over yours, giving you a chance to back up, to show him that he read the signs wrong, but you didn’t. your eyes locked with his, before his lips were moving against yours in a sweet, gentle and almost tantalising manner. you couldn’t tell how long were you kissing for, but when the two of you finally pulled away, his mouth was tinted with the red shade of your lipstick, both with messed up hair and slightly swollen lips.

it was almost seven in the morning, while you were sitting at the train station with your hand clasped in ollie’s. the silence between you was truly the most comfortable thing in the world at the moment. budapest was slowly waking up in the background as you enjoyed his presence beside you.

“what do they do in the movie before they part ways?” he interrupted the silence.

“they promise to see each other in a six months time in the same place. they don’t exchange numbers or anything, though.” you recalled, wondering where was he going with this.

“and do they? meet, i mean.” he asked, already expecting the answer as you’d told him it was a trilogy.

“not in the set time. she can’t make it to vienna again, because her grandmother dies, but he does.” you nodded. “but they do meet each other again, eight years later, this time in paris.”

“good thing we’re not jesse and celine.” ollie joked, a grin tugging on your lips as you nod in agreement. “i do have your number, and we can see each other in spa on thursday, if you want to.”

“i do.” this time, you were the one to press a gentle kiss on his lips for a brief second as your train arrived. bearman just grinned back at you, leaving a kiss on your forehead. “i’ll see you on facetime then, and in belgium.”

ollie stayed for another five minutes after your train departed. his gaze dropping to the phone in his hand before he quickly sent you a message.

ollie: thank you for making this night amazing for me x

[occamstfs]

Rosa's Cafe

Here's a longer Racial TF set in a coffee shop, Best! Occam

Matthew had clocked up more hours of overtime for his company than they were willing to pay him. He assumed that their guidelines weren’t so rigid and that he would be fine to get ahead early. These days you really need to go above and beyond to get ahead and Matthew was determined to get in the good graces of the big bosses.

Unfortunately working so hard was a misplay. His direct boss was forcing him to take Paid Time Off in lieu of the overtime pay for the past year. Now he sits at home with next to nothing to do, twiddling his thumbs until he can return to the grind. He loved back when he was a barista in college? Maybe he can get back to customer service?

Reflecting on this he takes to LinkedIn to see if there are any managerial spots open for a cafe. Something needs to scratch his itch for administration and he night as well pour coffee while doing so. In a stroke of luck, or perhaps something more deliberate, as soon as he logs in to check listings he sees a manager position at “Rosa’s Cafe.”

He auto-submits his resume to the restaurant assuming he’s overqualified before even reading the listing’s qualifications. Glancing through them he sees that they’d prefer someone fluent in Spanish. Matthew struggles to recall what if any Spanish remains in his head from taking it in both high school and college. He starts to pull up a language app on his phone before seeing that, jarringly fast, he has already been advanced to an interview for this cafe. Rosa herself sending him a message to come as soon as he’s ready. 

Matthew then sprints to check himself in a mirror. He has certainly not slacked in his hygiene since he was asked to stop coming into work, partially in hopes that they’ll need him to come in any day. Today though he throws on some cologne and drives off to Rosa’s Cafe. He doesn’t stop to question how odd it is to already be on the way to an interview, minutes after submitting his resume. They must just really need someone?

As soon as he arrives Rosa is there at the door to greet him, smiling wide and welcoming him into her establishment.

“Hola Matthew! So glad for you to join us, your application was outstanding! Solamente, I was wondering why you wanted this job given your current one?”

Matthew blushes and explains his situation, struggling not to sound like a maniac for wanting to work despite the relatively cushy situation he is in. Although Rosa hears this and is impressed at his ethic, his crave to work. Rosa was more than happy to take advantage of his situation.

“Uhhh there was just one thing though, Miss. Oh uh, lo siento. Señora Rosa.”

“Sí, sí. You aren’t quite fluent en Español, are you Matthew?” He averts his eyes but before he can answer Rosa continues on, “Esta bien. You will just learn on the job sí?”

Putting on an air of determination Matthew pumps his fist “Sí, Sra Rosa! Uh claro que sí,” he attempts, stepping to the limit of the Spanish remaining in his head. Rosa gives him a look like an owner watching a pet as it tries to show off, offering an ambiguous smile before explaining her stance.

“Claro que sí,” offering a knowing nod, “I’m sure you understand why I would want a manager to speak Español, yes? En esta ciudad, in this city, there are very few places where Español is the default. I would just like my cafe to be one of them. The job is of course yours, I would be a fool not to take the opportunity. But while you’re here, mientras estás aquí, please work on su Espanol,” tacking on, “I can’t imagine it will be too long before you’re called back to your job eh? Una estrella como tu” 

To her point there are clearly not a lot of people speaking English in the cafe. Matthew would guess he is probably the only native English speaker present making him blush, although after being flattered by Rosa he was ready to accept. After all he had been meaning to practice his Spanish anyway. He puts his hand out to shake her hand, “when can I start?”

“Well, mi pequeño gerente, why not start training now?” Turning around she calls over the barista Juan to introduce the two, talking to Juan at a speed that made it clear to Matthew that she was quite dumbing down her language in their conversation. She then bids farewell to the two, “adios Matthew! Tengo que ah, cόmo se dice, file your paperwork. Hasta mañana!”

“Hola Matthew, it is nice to meet you! Rosa said to show you around,” Juan smiles offering him a cup of their house roast. “Espero que, ah, I hope you don’t mind but I added canella, cinnamon.” Matthew graciously accepts the cup. He may be a world removed from his time as a barista but instantly returns to his first coffee tasting.

It smelled quite strong, darker than he usually prefers and he can see cinnamon swirling through the cup as the cup steams in his hand. He begins to bring the cup up for a closer smell although as soon as the movement begins the allure of the drink overpowers him and he drinks almost too quickly. It was delicious. He always, almost performatively, drank black coffee at his old job. Or no, his real job?

Juan sees Matthew continue to gulp down the cup of coffee waiting for reaction, though he sees very little sign of his mind processing the drink at all. Matthew’s just staring ahead, his eyes ever so slightly glazing over as he finishes the cup. He grins as it almost looks like the coffee has stained Matthew’s upper lip, offering a napkin before asking, “te gusta hermano?”

Matthew snaps back to his senses, staring at Juan as a small ring of brown starts to stain the center of his icy blue eyes. He struggles to even find the words to describe how profoundly he enjoyed the coffee. It was a passion too great for him to even begin to capture in English. “Juan, that was, cómo se dice? Is there some word better than delicioso?”

Juan laughs putting his arm around his new manager, “Ay hermano! Maybe that’s what you should do now! You just go work on your Spanish and I’ll bring you some samples! Ah, aqui, the employee handbook is in Spanish, practica perfecta!” He brings over another cup and the handbook and Matthew starts struggling through it. 

Matthew figuratively bashes his head into the handbook, it’s not dense but it is per cierto not written with beginners in mind. Smirking as he notices he just reflexively thought in Spanish, going to get another drink only to find the cup emptied once more. He hasn’t been drinking nearly as much since he left the office, bargaining with himself as Juan comes to refill his cup. He can cut back his intake later, he needs to get this through this work.

And work at it he does, caffeine is not making him feel wired as usual but sensual as he continues to page through the booklet. He starts to stretch just to feel the strain in his muscles and the tension in his clothes. He looks down and sees his shirt is fitting much better than he thought it did. It’s not tight but anyone who looks can see there is muscle under there. He stares at his own body feeling strength he does not remember cultivating. Suddenly he notices it’s not only his upper body that’s filling out, as a growing package begins to demand attention under the table. These jeans were clearly not designed to handle this and Matthew is barely able to stop himself from flexing to see just how much he truly can fill this outfit and he attempts to switch gears back to working. Urgently feeling adverse to thinking any further about his body.

Struggling to find any way to distract himself he remembers being historically shit at actually speaking in Spanish. This is as good a chance as any to practice his pronunciation. Matthew begins to mouth the words in the handbook, feeling his tongue in unfamiliar ways that he swears he has done a million times before. Matthew attempts to raise his practice to a whisper and immediately goes into a coughing fit. Hope that coffee didn’t burn my throat he thinks clearing his throat and finding a much deeper voice on the other side. One that announces his Spanish progress to the whole cafe shockingly loud for a whisper though Matthew doesn’t notice. What is immediately apparent to him is how expertly he rolled an R. 

He knows he could never do that, and not without trying. He probably spent half an hour practicing it his sophomore year. He reflects back on how hard he worked on Spanish in the past as his eyes start to glaze over once more. Something is off here, his hand raising to his face not notice a moustache and sloppy goatee start to push out of his face. He foes feel itchy elsewhere though, scratching at his chest and stomach, averting the more animalistic urge to scratch his pits and crotch as Juan begins to walk over.

Matthew quickly tries to meet him halfway, standing to a height just taller than the one he thought he knew to be true. His bulge grazes the bottom of the table which causes his body to convulse in pleasure. His feet are caught on the table as he falls knocking his coffee all over himself and the floor. “Mierda!” He shouts before going dark.

He awakens to Juan wiping coffee off his face, his clothes now certainly stained brown and spelling of rich coffee and cinnamon. Helping him back to standing, Juan makes sure he is alright, “quite the fall amigo! Tal vez we call it a day?” Matthew hastily agrees feeling impossibly strained and weary for what little work he has actually done. Juan continues, “Rosa said the paperwork should be good for you to start tomorrow if you can!” Stumbling to his feet Matt knows he agrees but the rest of his night is little more than a blur. 

He sees Juan wink at him and knows he is going to start tomorrow. He must drive home after that since he is now looking at himself in the mirror brushing his teeth. Something seems off, he is clearly too tired to put a finger on exactly what it is. He flexes his bicep noticing he must have completely disrobed. He thought he shaved his pits recently. He scratches at his crotch realizing that his now heavier cock is also out, pawing at his pubes and feeling his bulge expand even further into his hand before forcing it into some briefs and continuing his audit. 

Didn’t he have a tan? Looking at himself up and down he feels like he isn’t supposed to be this pale right? Isn’t he from? Matthew feels lightheaded and begins to collapse once more before being jarred back to reality smelling the coffee and cinnamon scent still hugging his chest. Using this second wind he stumbles into bed, neglecting to change into his nightclothes and he quickly drifts to sleep.

Matt falls into a dream that feels realer than the reality of his previous life. It’s the middle of the rush and he sees himself working at an espresso machine with Juan. He looks down seeing his body expertly maneuver around the bar, tossing cinnamon into drinks, chatting with customers in truly fluent Spanish. He pauses in this dreamscape to notice the tan he was so sure he had earlier. He sees the tattooed arms he has known for years, he worked hard enough for them after all, might as well show them off on the clock. He raises the hairy arms to flex at Juan and say something clever in his native tongue before being jarred back to reality by a sunbeam.

Matt awakens hearing his morning wood stretch his briefs to their near limit barely able to keep himself together before seeing the time and once more shouting “mierda!” He is already so late for work, they’ve been open for hours. It’s his first real day and he has already jod- he’s already fucked it up! He quickly inspects himself once more, seeing the true version of himself he saw in his dream. Seeing his recently shaved chest he quickly realizes he doesn’t have time for a shower. He smells his pits just to see how bad the damage is. His voice rumbles in his chest, “joder…”

He smells again even deeper, it reminds him of? Oh it is just on the tip of his tongue, which he begins to reach out before remembering his predicament. He throws on a dress shirt before giving one last whiff to his pits, flexing his pecs as he does so. It is so fragrant, almost spicy. Matt postpones the mystery after concluding it should certainly be covered by the smell at Rosa’s and rushing out the door. Not seeing as his chest pops off the top button of his shirt and his neat goatee begins to grow even thicker.

Matt rushes into the door and is greeted like a regular, which he is of course to be now, as the new manager. He feels a warmth in his chest as Juan brings over his first cup of the day. “Buenos días Juan!” Matt offers before going to meet the chef, Benito, as the plan was today.

Making his way back to the kitchen he smells something even more distracting to him than his body odor this morning. Benito runs over with a plate full of arepas that Matt recognizes instantly before Benito greets him, “buenos dias jefe! Rosa said you wanted us to start serving arepas sí?” 

“Rosa? She said, I asked for these?”

“Si! Desde su ciudad natal no?”

Matt’s mouth is overcome as he starts to clearly drool for the plate in front of him. He has no choice but to tear into one which immediately brings him back. He loved these when he was a kid, but? Didn’t he grow up en los estados? Wasn’t he from? He fails to finish the thought in his head before it is wiped away as if fireworks are going of in his mind. 

He beams at Benito as his eyes glaze over and fully darken to brown. He feels an urge to burp which he chokes down with another cup of coffee. “Ay this takes me back amigo, estos son exactamente como, like the ones mi abuela había before nos pequeños…” Matt pauses as he feels a pervasive warmth starts to grow distracting in his chest as a similar itch begins on the outside.

He doesn’t notice as his inner monologue begins to entirely shift away from English, as it should of course. He may live in los Estados hoy, but he was colombiano born and bred. He remembers how hard he worked as a child learning English as his biceps start to clearly strain the already tight dress shirt.

Matt remembers fighting for his place to get a degree at a university that did not respect his native country or tongue as he feels his voice deepen beyond baritone and into a strong bass. He remembers trying to find a place in this mierda ciudad before meeting Rosa as his chest bursts open shooting any buttons remaining off his shirt. 

Rosa then enters the kitchen to see how her new hire has progressed and slyly smiles seeing his progress. She tosses a shirt at him saying in Spanish now effortlessly understood “Oi Matteo! You’re in the kitchen put some clothes on!” 

Matteo shuffles to the restroom to change as he looks one last time in the mirror and sees the flawless trajabador he sees every time he checks himself out. He puts on his nametag flexing to see just how much he can strain his shirt before returning to the cafe, ready to conquer another day in the life he has worked so hard for.

[caffedrine]

Chevalier Michel - My Fiancé Has Become Child - Event Summary

This is mostly a summary for me - I make no promises on the accuracy of what’s happening. I’m not nearly fluent enough to get half the jokes/innuendo much less accurate plot points.

Chevalier stares at Emma, who stares back at him, tears gathering in her eyes. Well, at least this explains why he hasn’t seen her since this morning.

A moment before, when Chevalier had entered the library, he saw a child sitting at the bottom of the ladder. Though she now looks significantly younger, it’s obvious to anyone that it’s Emma. 

The moment he stepped towards her, the dam breaks, and Little!Emma’s face goes pale, and she bursts into full fledge crying. 

This would happen when Chevalier’s brothers encountered him as children, so he’s not even bothered by this reaction. 

There are a lot of questions he would like to ask Little!Emma, but expecting her to talk to him is unrealistic, especially while she’s crying. Instead, Chevalier strides over to her, lifts her up by her armpits so she can stand, and brushes down her clothes, checking for injuries. Good, it looks like she wasn’t crying because she was hurt, she was only terrified of him. And her shock at him touching her has even stopped her crying.

He surmises that Little!Emma must have climbed the nearby ladder to reach a book she was interested in, and then slipped and fell, thankfully without getting hurt. Chevalier takes the book and hands it to her. Little!Emma accepts the book, holding it as if she were trying to hide behind it while she runs and ducks behind a table. 

She calls out to Chevalier, asking how he knew she wanted this book, and wondering if he was some kind of wizard. 

Chevalier snorts and turns to leave, calling back to her to ask the man with the long hair tied back into a ponytail if she needs anything. She’s permitted to go wherever she likes as long as it’s in the castle and the gardens. 

As he leaves, Lucien appears out of the shadows. Chevalier orders him to watch over the kid in the library, and let him know if he sees anything strange. Lucien tells him that he’s already seeing something strange right now.

Chevalier leaves, musing that his presence will only frighten Little!Emma. 

As he walks down the hallway to his office, Leon stops him. Is Chevalier aware that there’s this little girl following him? Chevalier asks if there’s a point to this nonsensical chat. Leon advises him to be nicer to kids, and also maybe the people who work at the castle too. It would help his reputation. 

Chevalier gives Leon a cold stare and continues down towards his office.

Once inside, while he’s working on some documents, Nokto approaches him and asks if he’s aware of the small child staring at him from the doorway for the past hour. Nokto thinks she’s waiting for an opportunity to talk to him and asks if he will invite her inside. Chevalier says that if she wanted to talk to him, she could just come inside.

Nokto disagrees, Chevalier needs to meet the kid halfway. 

Fine, since this is bothering Nokto so much, Chevalier will handle it. He stands up, walks over to the doorway, and shuts the door in Little!Emma’s face. 

Err, that’s not what Nokto was getting at. He does wonder what the kid wants with Chevalier. This question gets Chevalier thinking - since it’s some regressed version of Emma, it’s probably something trivial. 

Still, there might be a way to, as Nokto put it, meet Little!Emma half way without forcing her to interact with him.

Once he finished his official duties, Chevalier retired to the palace gardens to read a book, making himself seem as approachable as he possibly could. Eventually, Little!Emma crawls out from underneath a rose bush. 

She jumps a little when Chevalier glances at her, and he wonders why she’s following him around if she still reacts like that when their eyes meet. Well, to give her credit, Little!Emma is the first child who hasn’t run away from him when given the opportunity. He watches her grip the hem of her skirt with white-knuckled hands as she steels herself. 

Little!Emma blurts out a greeting, introducing herself. She asks ‘big brother’ Chevalier if she can talk to him. Chevalier grunts in assent. Little!Emma asks if she can come next to him, and again Chevalier makes an assenting noise. 

Little!Emma is all smiles and runs over to him, clambering into the chair next to him. Maybe it was because Chevalier had given his permission, but suddenly Little!Emma didn’t look at all like the terrified child she had been a moment ago. Then again, it didn’t take long for her to get over her fear when they first met either. 

Little!Emma explains that there’s something she has wanted to say to Chevalier all day. She formally thanks him for helping her when she fell and giving her the book she wanted. She apologizes for crying and hurting him when he was just helping her. 

Chevalier tells her that if she thinks she hurt him, her eyes must be going bad. So don’t worry about him. He muses that this Emma, who doesn’t remember him at all, still came to him on her own. If, for some incomprehensible reason he had felt hurt over her earlier rejection of him, everything was forgiven. 

Little!Emma’s shoulders relaxed in relief, but her expression showed that there was something else she wanted to say. Chevalier prompts her, and Little!Emma is amazed at his deductive prowess. She hasn’t ruled out that he’s some mind-reading wizard yet. 

Little!Emma explains that she suddenly found herself in this castle, but she has no idea how or why she’s here. She asks if she can stay with Chevalier until she figures this mystery out. 

Chevalier thinks that she’s the only one in the world who would want to stay with someone who terrifies her. He tells her to do whatever she wants. Little!Emma cheers at this, thanking him. 

Chevalier decides that he no longer wants to waste his time in the garden and stands up. Little!Emma jumps down to the chair, asking where they’re going. Is he going back to work, or- 

Suddenly, Little!Emma trips and grabs on to Chevalier’s cloak to steady herself. Due to his white clothes, the grime is immediately visible; and Little!Emma apologizes for getting him dirty.

Chevalier assures her it's fine - clothes can be washed. And she doesn’t have to rush, he won’t leave her behind. 

He decides that matching the pace of a child would be too tedious, so he lifts her up to carry her. Little!Emma is enchanted and exclaims over how high they are. She hopes that one day she will grow up to be as tall as Chevalier.

Little!Emma asks if Chevalier drinks a lot of milk to get this tall, and Chevalier has a brief flashback of Clavis and the flashy one drinking milk to get taller. 

(Good luck, kid)

He tells her it doesn't work that way.

Little!Emma asks if she’s not too heavy for Chevalier and offers to walk. Chevalier tells her it would be too troublesome if she falls again, so he’ll just continue to carry her. 

Chevalier notes how quickly Little!Emma’s interests change as she becomes fixated by the fur on his collar. She asks if she can touch it, and Chevalier tells her to do whatever she wants. Little!Emma pats it, marveling over how soft and fluffy it is. She asks if having it by him all the time makes him sleepy, and Chevalier tells her that it doesn’t. Emma asks if people come up and pet him all the time then.

(Achievement: You have unlocked Chevalier’s newest nightmare!)

Chevalier thinks that only Emma is brave enough to touch him. 

Little!Emma is distracted once again and asks Chevalier where they are going. If Chevalier has to work, maybe it’s too much to take her along. 

Chevalier tells her that as a child, she shouldn’t worry about adults like this. She can just stay with him until she feels better. Instead, she should think about what she wants to do and where she wants to go.

In that case, could she spend some more time with Chevalier? She grabs onto him, burying her face into the fur at Chevalier’s collar, almost like a hug. Little!Emma explains that there are so many things she wants to do with him.

Later

Yves, Licht, and Jin stare at the pair in the practice yard. Jin asks if this is some hallucination - is he really seeing Chevalier and a little girl wailing at each other with practice swords? He asks Licht to hit him, and Licht kindly obliges.

Okay, maybe this isn’t a dream.

Yves wonders if the girl is some distant member of the Michel family, but Jin points out that doesn’t clear anything up. 

They hear the girl ask ‘big brother’ Chevalier to let her try a move again, and Jin slowly repeats ‘big brother Chevalier’. Does he suddenly have something to tease Chevalier about?

Licht’s impressed, he never knew Jin was such a daredevil. 

On the training ground, Chevalier can hear everything the trio is saying. Everyone seems as noisy as ever, openly staring at him and Little!Emma.

If Little!Emma even noticed them, she paid them no heed and instead focused on trying to get a hit on him with her sword. 

This was the first thing Little!Emma had wanted to do. She had recounted a book where a warrior princess had beat up all the bad guys to save her kingdom, even defeating the demon king. 

(Hey!)

Wanting to emulate the very cool warrior princess, Emma asked Chevalier to train her to become a knight.

(Okay, maybe his brothers had a reason to cry when he smiled like that)

Which leads them to now, with Chevalier blocking Little!Emma’s strike, whirling his sword and disarming her. He tells her that it’s time for a break and Little!Emma agrees. Showing absolutely no signs of fatigue, she rushes over to him and asks how she did.

Very amateurish, her swings are too wide, and she needs more strength behind them. Her feet stagger every time she raises her sword, and her grip on the hilt loosens even on his lightest parries. 

Little!Emma complains that he’s stingy with praise, so Chevalier adds on that he appreciates that she is willing to try to improve when her (many) faults are pointed out. 

Little!Emma cheers rare praise from Chevalier. She promises to get stronger and save Chevalier whenever he needs rescuing.

What? Since when has Chevalier come off as someone who needs rescuing?

He thinks about Emma - Adult!Emma - and her work with public service. She had been concerned about saving and protecting people, maybe this is just a childish thought of how to fulfill that need. 

The next thing Little!Emma wanted to do with him was something she enjoyed as an adult. 

As they sit drinking tea, Little!Emma looks around at the gardeners and servants watching them at a distance. Chevalier asks if she’s worried about what the others are thinking, but Little!Emma focuses again on him, denying it.

Little!Emma changes the subject, marveling over the pastries the maids had brought them. The sugar crystals sparkle like jewels, entrancing her. This is the first time she’s been at a tea party like this and is excited. Very generously, Little!Emma offers to let Chevalier choose the first pastry to eat.

Chevalier tells her to go ahead and eat first, and Little!Emma does not argue. She chooses a lemon tart, carefully cutting a piece and stabbing it with her fork. She then brings it up to Chevalier's face and tells him to say 'ahh'.

Well, Chevalier doesn't see a reason to refuse, so he obediently opens his mouth and eats the tart.

Little!Emma cheers, she chose the right sweet! Chevalier is still chewing it, so he must be savoring the flavor. Privately, Chevalier thinks that he’s only still chewing because she fed him a giant piece but lets the matter rest. He takes the fork from Little!Emma’s hand and cuts the tart into actual bite-sized pieces, then handing the plate back to her. Mistaking his intent, Little!Emma opens her mouth like a baby bird, anticipating the pastry. Unlike her adult self, who would be embarrassed, Little!Emma is anticipating him feeding her.

Little!Emma chews and swallows the bite, wiping some of it off of her cheek and marveling over the taste. She proudly tells Chevalier that she knew the lemon tart would be his favorite, after all, his hair is yellow just like the tart. He must eat them all the time for his hair to get that yellow.

Little!Emma leans forward, she has a secret to tell Chevalier, but she doesn’t want anyone else (from 25 feet away) to hear. She likes Chevalier and wants him to like her too.

Yep, even as a child, Emma is a bit stupid.

The third thing Little!Emma wants to do is not at all unexpected. Walking next to him, she announces that she wants to dance like a princess in a big dance hall. To demonstrate her dancing prowess, she lets go of his hand to jump forward and with surprising grace, pirouettes in front of him. She asks if he’ll pretend to be a prince and dance with her.

Chevalier asks if there was something about his reply that makes her doubt his word. Little!Emma assures him that it’s not that, it’s just that this feels like a dream come true so she wants to hear it again and again. And again.

Little!Emma reaches out to grab him and pull him with her. Chevalier chides her to hold his hand, not his cloak, and to stop rushing. Little!Emma laughs and tells him that the cloak was fluttering cutely. Oh, if they play hide and seek with someone, she wants to hide underneath it. It’s so long, she would be completely hidden. Chevalier points out that anyone looking would see her feet, and Little!Emma deflates at her perfect hiding place not being so perfect after all.

Privately, Chevalier thinks that anyone daring to play hide and seek with them would pretend not to notice her hiding place. He holds out his hand, and without hesitation, Little!Emma reaches out to grab it.

On their way to the dance hall, they pass by many servants and aristocrats. Everyone they pass looks from him to Little!Emma and back, as if they can’t believe it. It’s beginning to irritate Chevalier, but Little!Emma doesn’t seem to notice or mind. Or maybe not. Next to him, Little!Emma begins to skip happily, loudly chattering about how excited she is to dance with Chevalier. It’s a poor coverup, but it’s also sweet. He wonders if he should tease her about it now, or wait until they get her back to her adult self.

They find Clavis standing majestically in the center of the ballroom, wearing a strange smile. He asks if Chevalier doesn’t agree that he is at least a hundred times more suited to taking care of children. Little!Emma was alarmed at the appearance of this strange man and let go of Chevalier’s hand to hide under his cloak.

Chevalier thinks that Nokto must have sent word to Clavis, who hurried back from his inspection.

Clavis approaches them and kneels in front of Little!Emma, reaching into a pocket to proffer a box the size of the palm of his hand. Curiously, Little!Emma pokes her head out from Chevalier’s cloak to ask about it, and Clavis urges her to poke it gently. Little!Emma does and marvels over the toy bunny that pops out. Clavis asks if she likes his jack-in-the-box and Little!Emma assures him she does. Smiling, she emerges completely from Chevalier’s cloak, looking interestedly at Clavis. She asks his name, introducing herself.

This catches Clavis off guard, and rather than explain, Chevalier assures Clavis that it’s just a coincidence this child and his fiancé have the same name.

Clavis quickly recovers and introduces himself, explaining that he is Chevalier’s younger brother. Little!Emma has trouble saying his last name and has to repeat it several times before getting it right.

Well, now that they have introduced themselves, this means they’re friends! Right?

Little!Emma is thrilled, she has a new bestest friend. She bounces, and Clavis bounces with her, holding hands.

Finally, Clavis turns back to Chevalier; he is shocked to hear that Chevalier has spent the day playing with a little girl. Even right here, with proof in front of him, he feels like he must be dreaming.

Well, that’s no longer important, it would be ungentlemanly of Clavis to keep the princess waiting any longer. Chevalier grumbles that if Clavis hadn’t shown up, Little!Emma wouldn’t have to wait to play in the first place.  

Speaking of which, Little!Emma wants to know why big brother Clavis is here.

Why, he was waiting for her, of course. Clavis respectfully offers his hand and asks Little!Emma to dance with him.

Sorrowfully, Little!Emma declines. Clavis asks why, assuring her that he’s at least a billion times better dancer than Chevalier. Little!Emma assures him that she believes him, but she still wants her first dance to be with Chevalier. Maybe next time?

Clavis gives in, if it’s what Little!Emma wants, he has no choice. He assures himself that it’s just because she met Chevalier first, and that it’s not because he himself is lacking. In fact, it’s a sign of how gentlemanly he is that he’s accepting her decision.

While Clavis’ face remains amiable, the air around him becomes heavy with disappointment. Little!Emma peers at Clavis, looking like she wanted to say something. At Clavis’ prompting, she asks if he has a problem with Chevalier.

Mentally, Chevalier praises her for picking up on the (not so) subtle signs of Clavis’ emotions.

Little!Emma shouts, she just came up with the perfect idea. The lady at the bakery told her about this a while ago. No matter how much two people fight, if they do this, then they’ll quickly become friends. Smiling, she asks Clavis to hold hands with Chevalier.

Chevalier and Clavis look at each other.

Mercilessly, Little!Emma reaches out to grab Clavis’ hand, and tries to forces his and Chevalier’s hands together. Unfortunately, a mysterious force keeps them from getting too close. Little!Emma complains that Chevalier isn’t being helpful. Clavis laughs and asks if Chevalier is too embarrassed to hold his hand. Chevalier asks if Clavis wants to hold hands.

(The thought sends shivers up Clavis’ spine)

Little!Emma frowns as if faced with a difficult problem. She allows that maybe this is as close as they’ll get. Suddenly she lights up, as if a flash of inspiration struck her. She tells them that she wants them both to be her bestest friends. Clavis assures her that he would love to be her bestest friend ever.

And Chevalier?

Clavis tells her that the big sourpuss is always like this, but he definitely wants to become best friends too. Little!Emma is happy, now instead of the two of them being bestest friends, all three of them can be bestest friends! She starts jumping with joy, all while holding hands with the two of them. Defeated, Clavis gives Little!Emma a deflated smile.

To celebrate the three of them being bestest friends ever, maybe they should all dance together! They could hold hands in a circle and everything.

Clavis throws up in his mouth.

Little!Emma is alarmed and concerned and begins fussing over Clavis. He explains that he sprained his ankle earlier that day and is just not up to dancing after all. Oh, don’t worry about him, but he just remembered the doctor telling him to rest. Maybe instead of the three of them - ugh - the three of them dancing together, maybe this time just her and Chevalier.

Little!Emma nods, she understands. She'll ask the stars to help him recover quickly. Laughing softly, Clavis praises her for being a really nice, gullible child.

Before he leaves, Clavis instructs Chevalier to be gentle with her. This is just a kid, don’t grab her roughly or step on her.

(Just wait until Jin tells him about the sword fight from earlier)

Little!Emma assures Clavis that Chevalier has been gentle with her since they first met. He picked her up, and helped brush dirt off her clothes, all while being super gentle. Anyways, they should dance right now while there’s still time.

As Little!Emma drags him with her to the center of the ballroom, Chevalier wonders if he was touching her gently, he wasn’t aware of trying to be. He considers his hands, once feared as those that belonged to a beast, now being seen as something kind. Without Emma, this version of him wouldn’t exist.

He takes simple steps to match Little!Emma’s as they silently sway side to side. At least, silently until Little!Emma asks if she’s really dancing like a princess. Chevalier assures her that she is. Emma is happy with his response, but then stumbles and nearly falls over. Chevalier scoops her up and lightly spins her around, the skirt of her dress flaring out like a flower. Little!Emma laughs in delight and exclaims over how much she loves Chevalier.

Chevalier thinks the only reason why he’s changed is because of Emma. Even now, her smile is bright enough to block out the sun. He thinks that the changes are becoming natural to him, a part of who he is.

It’s not a bad thought.

The sky grows red as Emma’s list of activities continues on. Until suddenly they end when she begins to yawn. It almost seems like a lie that she was bouncing just a few moments ago. He scoops her up and holds her to his chest, and she buries her face into his collar.

Just to think, from her perspective, he’s practically a stranger, but she is still so affectionate with him. No matter what, he never wants her to leave him.

He returns to his bedroom, laying Little!Emma down on his bed gently enough not to wake her up, and smooths her messy hair. Convinced that she’s asleep, he moves away, only to hear her rustling and feel something grab at his cloak. He turns and asks Little!Emma if she was awake this entire time.

Little!Emma shakes her head and rubs her eyes. She asks if he’s leaving, and if he is, she wants to go too. So don’t go alone.

Chevalier tells Little!Emma that he wasn’t planning on going anywhere, but she points out that he was just leaving. Chevalier tells her that he was stepping away to get changed for bed. If she’s too afraid to be alone, he’ll stay with her.

Little!Emma apologizes for interrupting him from changing and assures him that he is welcome to get ready for bed. Very dramatically she lets go of his cloak and buries her face in his bedding. Chevalier can’t help but laugh and stroke her hair before leaving to get changed.

Once he is done, Little!Emma peers up around his room, curiously. She asks about the books on the table by the chairs. With his permission, she jumps off the bed and runs over to examine them. Unfortunately, they’re too advanced for her, and asks if they’re his books.

Actually, they aren’t.

Excitedly, Emma guesses they’re Clavis’ books.

Nope.

Little!Emma looks sad, and he wonders if she is still hellbent on getting him and Clavis to bond. Suddenly her eyes land on a blanket thrown over a chair, and she asks if it’s his.

Chevalier recognizes it as the first Christmas gift he received from Emma. It’s starting to get frayed at the edges from all the use. People have asked him if he wants a new one, but nothing would replace the feelings of that moment when Emma had gifted the blanket to him.

When he nods to Little!Emma’s question, a happy look spreads over her face. It’s a very cute blanket, with lovely colors. She guessed that it was a gift; when he looked at it, his mouth smiled just a fraction. Is she right?

Well, she’s right about it being a gift, at least.

Little!Emma looks relieved. Chevalier asks if she feels better now, and Little!Emma asks how he could tell that she was anxious. She apologizes for hiding it and deceiving him.

Chevalier assures her that it wasn’t really a lie, and he noticed that she was anxious about something from the start. Little!Emma laughs, Chevalier really is some sort of wizard.

She confesses that she was anxious ever since she appeared here in the castle. But then she met the kindest person ever, who helped her and even got her book down for her. She wanted to thank him by helping him make more friends.

Chevalier nods, that’s why for their activities, she was choosing places where there were lots of people. Little!Emma nods, when playing fun games together, it’s normal for others to want to join them. But it backfired when only Clavis tried to join them.

Yeah, Little!Emma picked the wrong person to try that with.

Chevalier thinks that no one in the world could even temporarily replace Emma. He picks her up and sets her in a nearby chair. He explains that he doesn’t feel ‘loneliness’ anymore. A long time ago he had dismissed love and kindness as something unnecessary.

Little!Emma disagrees, he’s a kind person, who knows love, right? Chevalier admits that he does because he’s not really alone anymore. He now has a fiancé.

Little!Emma is excited, she wants to hear all about this fiancé. She asks him to invite her to his wedding, and Chevalier assures her that there would be no wedding without her.

Little!Emma begins to ask a million questions at once; who is the fiancé, how did they meet, what is his favorite thing about her? Did Clavis help them fall in love, or did someone else?

Chevalier covers her mouth, explaining that he needs more than a fraction of a second to answer her. When he removes his hand, Little!Emma gives him a shy smile. Still, her excitement is refreshing, and he wonders if Emma feels the same way, just is better at acting reserved.

Little!Emma crosses her arms and asks if she can ask one thing about his fiancé. She asks if he loves his fiancé enough for her to be the one person at his side forever.

He does.

Little!Emma flushes and tells him that he has such a gentle expression that it makes her heart flutter. She asks if Chevalier ever tells this to his fiancé.

He doesn’t.

Okay, Little!Emma will help him. She has the perfect line for him to use next time he sees his fiancé. He should tell her that he loves her more than all the books in his library.

(Well, that’s debatable)

Smiling, Chevalier agrees to consider saying that.

[gowonminajxx]

— bed time.

a miguel o’ hara fic ~ part 2 here

— NSFW miguel o’ hara x fem!reader

you are mayday’s babysitter. miguel insists on drinks after mayday falls asleep and is picked up by peter. for a quick summary, it leaves you in his bed.

\\ quick A/N :: this is my 3rd tumblr post woohoo ^^ thank u for recognition on my last post abt hobie brown. i’m glad to be writing my first miguel fic on here!! enjoy and have a great feast on this long fic 😭

// CWs :: drinking alcohol, swearing, extreme smut w/ plot, groping, biting (vampire kink?)

-- 2.17k word count

// other notes :: i’m latina myself ! although i am not fluent in spanish, so please correct me if anything is wrong 🎀🎀

“ que linda — how cute / pretty

miumiulicious 2023.

mayday’s stubby arms wrapped around your shoulder, her hands landing on your back as you carried her to her crib. a small smile flashed on your face as she giggled and made cute little sounds at you, something you couldn’t ever say no to.

what stunned you is that miguel o’hara, the man who had been paying you to babysit this child, wasn’t even the parent. a man named peter was. you had caught small glimpses of him before, a middle aged man, slightly chubby on the stomach .. yada yada.

so instead of miguel taking care of mayday, he decided to pay someone, anyone, to carry around and change diapers for a little small baby who people like miguel would call a demon from the pits of hell. he made a stern, cold face whenever he was put on duty. not like his face was like that all the time.

this was only your second time babysitting mayday. you had seen miguel the first time, but only for a minute. he had given you your pay, and you left without another word. it was simple work, you thought. taking care of a small child like this was no problem. until last night.

you set down mayday in her crib, her small back hitting the cushion beneath her. a floral pattern on the cushion decorated it, while her binky laid on the side.

you shut off the light after stroking your hand through her hair, which she instantly fell asleep to. you walked out the room without a singular noise, traveling towards the kitchen.

you sat down at the dining table, checking your phone. there was a few messages from your friends who were out of town, but besides that, it was practically just tumbleweeds blowing away on your phone. a sigh escaped your lips, slightly bored, and as if on cue, a tall man opens the door with a click.

he’s muttering something to himself before he sees you, his eyes instantly widening. it’s miguel, you thought. the man who pays you — the money man? a small smile grows on your face as a welcoming sign for him, and he softly smiles back.

“hello, y/n. is everything .. okay with mayday?” his voice is calm and soothing compared to other times where you’ve caught him yelling into a piece of technology. miguel’s face softens up compared to when he first opened the door, his eyebrows lowering a little, his jaw unclenching.

you nod in response. “yeah, i actually just put her to sleep.” your head turns towards the small room you had just walked out of, indicating mayday was dead asleep behind that door, sleeping like there was no tomorrow.

miguel nodded, pausing before he responded lowly. “good..” hesitating before he added on quickly, almost as if he was already urging to ask. “..would you like a drink or two?” his thick hand gestured to the kitchen, and your eyes followed before they gravitated back to his dark brown ones.

“sure! haven’t drank in a little anyways.” you murmured the last bit, before he walked off into the kitchen to grab two glasses for the rest of the night.

he grabs whiskey, placing ice cubes in both of your glasses and pours you a little lighter of a glass than his. you would think he’s a strong drinker, but he was quite the opposite. you discovered this by the time he was on his 2nd glass.

his words slurred, seemed like his vision was hazy as you nodded along awkwardly. when is the alcohol gonna hit so this can stop being so awkward? you screamed in your head. a little part of you found it a little cute how weak of a drinker miguel was, despite his strong build and attitude.

his hand would often reach over on top of yours, his arm covering a side of the table as he squeezed your hand roughly. you smiled nervously, sipping your drink slowly as he babbled on and on about his job, a kid he had been chasing, peter, mayday, and all these random topics you barely paid attention to.

you took the first move. your chair slid as you got up, a small screech noise being made from the friction. you placed your empty glass on the table, while you spoke.

“i’m gonna leave now, do you mind paying me? i have to get back home to ..” you hesitated, before adding on a little quicker than you thought you could. “.. my family. they need me to help out with the kids too.. so.” you chuckled nervously, letting the lie slip out from your mouth.

his eyes observantly lingered on your lips, a spark of lust igniting in his irises. his jaw clenched as he tapped the hard glass with his finger before replying surprisingly calmly.

“well if you really have to leave ..” miguel answered, his voice coming lowly from his throat. his finger tapped on his temple while he added on.

“could you at least have another drink with me?”

you stared at him, completely frozen, your legs still spread apart from when you were trying to walk away from this. your eyes darted towards your empty glass. no second thoughts were given, and you decided to sit down with miguel for another drink — even if he was wasted already just by two.

while the two of you drank your last glass together, miguel had asked you personal questions about your relationships. did you have a boyfriend? a girlfriend? were you seeing someone? do you have a sex partner? he would ask all of these questions in the exact order, your face feeling like a bonfire having sticks thrown in it each and every second.

you trembled upon your answers each response, and he seemed to be amused by how flustered you were. you didn’t seem to notice the amount of red tint that had appeared on your face. he squeezed your hand gently whenever he felt like it, almost as if he was trying to comfort you. yet he wanted one thing from you, and only you.

as you stood up after your glass emptied, he stood up with you, his hand now resting on your hip. miguel placed down his glass on the table, a small clink sound being made. his hand reached into his pocket of his jeans, rummaging through for a paycheck. his head tilted downwards when he realized it wasn’t there, but somewhere else.

“sorry, but the paycheck is in my bedroom. silly, silly me.” he chuckled before walking to the bedroom down the hall, and you followed. a huge load of thoughts ran through your head as you followed him, mainly just dirty thoughts about sex and other things that could happen in this man’s room. tonight. you only thought about these things because he was wasted, a weak drinker who’s eyes lingered on you unusually in a seductive way.

you whooshed those thoughts away with one click of a door as he closed the door behind you two, walking over to his desk in the bedroom. a small desk, where he rummaged through his drawer and pulled out a small piece of paper. the paycheck he had prewritten.

your hands landed behind your back, fingers intertwining as he walked towards you, not paying any mind to a sense of personal space. his hand landed on your hip as his other gestured towards you, giving you the paycheck. a smile raised nervously on your face as reaction to the physical contact between you two.

miguel’s eyes narrowed, staring at how you shook underneath him. a perfect target for him, a perfect stress toy. his hand gravitated up to your waist, before landing on your side boob, his hand completely covering your clothed tit.

you shuddered, your face going red as his large hand had completely lost track of where it was going and immediately went to your tit. your mind was fogging. miguel’s irises swiveled as he stared up at you, his head tilted a little to the side. how amusing was it to him for you to be absolutely shaking underneath his touch, especially on your clothed breasts?

you stared up at him, before mentioning his name for a place of reassurance. you were freaking out at the amount of physical contact between you two, and the fact miguel was moving so fast. he opened his lips once in response.

“y/n.. que linda.” his eyebrows furrowed as his hand travelled further to your boobs, his other hand working on tucking the paycheck underneath your belt, keeping it steady. miguel had only done that so his hand could gravitate towards your other tit, as his hips got closer to yours — practically touching.

his hands began massaging gently with your breasts, a small grin raising on his face while he did so. his hazy vision seemed like it didn’t exist, considering he played with you so intricately, his wide thumbs rubbing over just the right places.

“que linda..” he repeated himself, slurring underneath his breath that reeked of alcohol. miguel’s body closed the gap between you two, as his head leaned in over your shoulder, towering over you.

a grin crossed his face as you let out a soft gasp, his hands massaging a little more hard now, practically squeezing your breasts. miguel kept one strong hand on your tit while the other went down to your backside, groping your ass as you gasped further.

he began pecking your neck with soft kisses, before leaving hickeys and small bites. you had been bit before during intimacy, but not like this — these bites from miguel felt a lot sharper than usual. almost as if the man was a vampire. your thoughts seemed to be confirmed by a sudden sucking sound.

you felt your head go a little light as he absorbed some of the blood, licking his fangs slowly and sensually, lifting his head up so you could observe. your vision felt a little blurred, because he had practically just drained you. he’d be draining you some more later of things other than blood if you didn’t realize that already.

he stayed silent, before engaging in a deep kiss with you, his tongue instantly inserting inside your mouth before you tugged on his bottom lip. your tongues massaged against each others, swiveling and swirling like it was some sort of playground. your hands travelled.

you cupped miguel’s cheeks with your smaller hands, his head tilting into the kiss as his stronger hands gripped onto your hips. he began tugging on the waistband of your pants, smiling into the kiss.

miguel pulled away from the kiss, and it seemed like you were a little thirsty for more, as you continued kissing him on his cheek and neck. the two of you panted and heaved for air, like you went on a mile run in the desert. he picked you up into his arms. your legs wrapped around his tiny waist, your crotch against his lower stomach as you were now towering over him.

your soft lips pushed against his into another passionate kiss, making out before he walked backwards into the bed, taking a seat so you were now in his lap. his hands travelled up and down your back sensually, feeling every single bit of you rippling due to his touch.

he held onto your ass, squeezing it a little before taking the kiss further, aggressively tugging on your bottom lip. he rolled over so you were on the bottom, your legs still wrapped around his waist for safety. miguel stood in between your legs.

he seemed to be in a rush, but the only rush he was in for your body to be on full display for him.

miguel took his big hands to your clothing, ripping off your shirt — causing you to let out a gasp in response, your eyes widening. he wasn’t being careful whatsoever, his hands traveling to now unzip your pants in a hasty speed, pulling them down fully. his hands ripped apart your panties, tearing them down in the middle with a loud thrrrrip sound.

you gawked, your mouth hanging open as he smirked slightly, his fangs peeking out his mouth and over his lips a little. miguel’s eyes wandered around your entrance area, staring at the nakedness of your folds right in front of him. he put a finger to the middle of your clit, causing you to let out a soft muted whimper.

“so wet already for me, huh?” he chuckled lowly, his words still slurred as his eyes continued traveling around your body. his thirst and hunger grew further and further every single second he took a glimpse at each part of your body. your tits. your waist. your hips. and especially your needy little clit, which was already decorated in your own wetness. he pulled his finger back, slipping it in his own mouth for a quick taste.

“why don’t we deal with that?” he quickly added on, before unzipping his pants slowly.

urrrghhh i didn’t want it to be too long so i have to make this a 2 part fic!!!! thank u for reading abt the sexy irish latino papi ‼️

i’ll link part 2 HERE when i finish it! hopefully it doesn’t take long cuz y’know .. i love miguel 😭😭😭😭

[sideeve]

LIKE YOU !! + 42!MILES MORALES

+ ex!miles morales x f!reader

+ the reader is black in mind but i guess you can read it regardless🤷🏽‍♀️, based off of bow wow’s like you with ciara, ganke exists in earth 42 in here, miles wants reader back, i am NOT fluent in spanish so PLEASE let me know if i fucked up!!

“you can’t be fucking serious.” you stare at the package next to your feet. you didn’t even have to question who it came from. no one bought you package except for him.

[ name ] morales was labeled on the package. “oh he’s ballsy.” you laugh.

picking it up and placing it in the piles which the rest of the unopened boxes, you pull out your phone, dialing his number.

“hello?”

“hey ma.”

“enough with that ‘ma’ shit. why do you keep sending me packages?”

“what? i can’t spoil my girl.” he chuckles.

your knees practically buckled at the words “my girl”. you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss it.

“i’m not your girl. we’ve went over this.”

“keep saying that, ma. y’know you love me.”

“bye, miles.”

you click the red button on your phone, throwing it on your bed. “this boy is gonna be the death of me.”

and school was no different.

you kept finding letters and small presents in your locker. necklaces, rings, earrings. shit, sometimes cash too. you weren’t complaining. most of the items were things you had your eyes on for a while.

“you like them?” a voice speaks behind your locker door. “jesus!” you slam the door. “what are you doing here?” your voice comes out frustrated but you were actually glad to see him.

“you didn’t answer my question, nena. do you like them?” you purse your lips, making it seem like you’re thinking. “maybe. but you’ve got to stop sending me shit.”

“why? it’s my money.” “i’m gonna start giving it to people if you don’t. and you have balls for putting [ name ] morales.” you laugh. “i knew you’d like it.” he walks off to ganke, but not before ghosting his hand with yours, making a shiver shoot down your spine.

“ooo~” your friends tease from behind you, scaring you. “would you shut up?” “what happened to ‘i’ll never fall in love again’?” “i’m not in love,” you scoff, “and definitely not with him.” you roll your eyes as the bell rings.

“i’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“you gonna go see him?” they snicker. not having the energy to give a verbal response, you flick them off, cursing under your breath.

8 pm read in your clock. all the studying was starting to put you into a sleepy haze. you had 2 hours left until your “bedtime” but it wouldn’t hurt to sleep early.

of course, you could never catch a wink of shut eye. a tapping from your window catching your attention. “miles?” he taps the window again, mouthing let me in.

lifting up the glass and moving aside, he steps in. “nothing has changed.” he notes. “what are you doing here?” you question, unamused. “what now? i can’t visit?” “do you not know how a break up works? we don’t see each other, we don’t talk to each other. nothing.” “see, that’s were you got it twisted. we never broke up. it was just a break.”

you laugh. “you’re crazy.” “llámalo como quieras, mami. pero todavía te quiero.” you buckled a bit. “mhm.” you smirk. “those boxes at my front door can show for it.” now it’s his turn to laugh.

“so, what’s it gonna be ma? we still together or what?” he steps closer to you, his lips ghosting yours. “i thought we were already together.”

“buena chica.” his lips close the gap between the both of you, igniting the extinguished flame in you.

llámalo como quieras, mami. pero todavía te quiero - call it what you want, mami. but i still love you.

nena - girl

buena chica - good girl

[guster-animations]

The Japanese Version of Deltarune

about a week ago i decided to translate japanese deltarune because i was curious and bored. i found a lot of stuff that i haven’t heard anyone talk about before!

i only translated chapter 2 because i got to the cliffs and remembered that watching/playing chapter 1 over and over again is really boring to me. might do it when/if i finish writing the post.

uhhh a few warnings. i’m not fluent in japanese whatsoever (i’m like n4 level? i think?), and i might not explain this very well to people who don’t know anything about the language. if you’re confused about anything i say, just ask and i’ll explain it in better detail.

i got all of the gameplay from tsuwahasu’s playthroughs of chapter 2 (pacifist and weird route), so all of the screenshots will be from his vods. i picked his vod to watch somewhat randomly so i was very surprised when he not only got all the easter eggs/secrets on a blind playthrough besides the egg room, but also beat spamton neo in one try, god damn

also i’m not the first person to look at the jp version of deltarune. please look at these posts/videos if you want to see stuff that’s already known in better detail:

skellfamily (light/dark world writing, characters’ pronouns and speech patterns) | suzyundertale (ch2 character names, some jokes) suzyundertale again (the gonermaker sequence) | duxarcana and halfbreadchaos (character in the code) | kazarinn (comments from the translators)

reblogs highly appreciated—this took a ton of time!!!

NOW.

LET US BEGIN.

first things first. the gonermaker sequence is one of the most well-known differences in the japanese language among lore fanatics like myself.

in japanese, the first character speaking to you (gaster/Geoff) speaks in kanji (normal) and katakana instead of hiragana (not normal, incredibly strange sounding). the character who hijacks the gonermaker at the end speaks differently, with kanji and hiragana (normal). as suzyundertale mentions in their post, the patterns are extremely similar to a certain fallen child from the end of the undertale genocide route.

another well-known lore Thing in the japanese version is that the hidden “scrapped” lines (AKA the person trapped in the code) use very feminine and childlike speaking mannerisms. this makes it very likely that the person is dess holiday

i’m not going to be going over much personal pronoun stuff, because other people have already covered most of that, though i haven’t seen one thing mentioned by anyone else:

seam uses the pronoun “atashi” (あたし), which is normally a very girly pronoun but in this case it’s meant to make them seem old and wise, since it was a more common pronoun in olden times. their other mannerisms are gender neutral and not feminine, but their name is localized to “nui” (ヌイ)— the word for “seam” in japanese, as well as an actual feminine given name.

does the use of “atashi” combined with having a fem name confirm that they are female? i’m 95% sure the answer is no. do those two things lead native japanese speakers to believe that they are female? i have no idea.

light and dark world

skellfamily mentioned all of this in the post i linked, but i have something small to add

undertale uses mainly hiragana in its text for the japanese version, with some small exceptions for when the fourth wall is broken. this is referencing earthbound, which also did this. this carries over to the light world of deltarune, but kanji is used liberally in the dark world. this is explained by toby fox wanting the light world to make the player think deltarune would be like undertale.

that’s all

small jokes and stuff in the localization

the “librarby” misspelling joke carries over, with it being named “toshonka” (the japanese word for library is “toshokan”).

the AGREE2ALL puzzle was changed to say “YEEES20!!”. this can be read as “yes ni maru” (with the number 2 being read as “ni” in jp and “maru” being the word for a circle), meaning “yes to all” just like in english!

the “apple” keyboard puzzle still says “apple” though ralsei mentions that apple means “ringo” (the japanese word for apple) if you talk to him for a hint.

funnily enough, this joke was kept as is! (“kris, type as i say. f…” “…un!”)

the tasque’s battle lines in english are binary codes, with “me” being 0 and “ow” being 1. this is similar in jp. “nyan” is the equivalent of “meow” in that language, so “ny”=0 and “an”=1. cute!

the “bosom” joke is about the same, if anyone was curious

“breasts / annihilation”

“b…breast?”

“it means tity”

probably my favorite joke in the entire japanese version: in english, before the berdly fight on the roller coaster, he incorrectly refers to lightners as “Light Nerds” . in japanese this is changed to make him use ateji (a combination of kanji that doesn’t mean anything but sounds like an already existing word with their combined readings), calling the lightners 雷斗奈悪 (raitonaa, phonetically similar to the transliteration raitonā which the translation uses). it has the exact same effect (of berdly trying to sound smart but actually being very incorrect), but it’s localized in an outstanding way

“you are filled with the power of not knowing what sugarplums are” is changed to “you are filled with the power of not knowing what christmas pudding is”.

when berdly incorrectly calls susie “susan”, she says “who’s susan?” instead of “my name isn’t susan”. japanese people likely don’t know that “susie” is usually short for “susan”, so it makes sense for her to be even more confused in this version.

the spelling contest in berdly’s flashback is still an english spelling contest, with berdly specifying that it’s english.

instead of saying “susie… a real dragon blazers reference?!” when susie references dragon blazers 2, berdly says, “susie… you’re… a serious dragon blazers player…?!”

on that topic, dragon blazers is instead called dragon blader in japanese. was it called that the whole time? am i misremembering? i legitimately don’t know

the ice-e keysmash puzzle is changed so that you can type it out in japanese as すふぎおろてにぺけなも. it still does not mean anything.

right after susie referenced godzilla with the susiezilla line on the ferris wheel, she references ANOTHER tokusatsu. i think. here (while about to fall on ralsei) she says “ore, sanjou!!!!” (i arrive!), which is a famous catchphrase from kamen rider den-o. i’m like 85% sure it was an intentional reference. den-o is one of my favorite rider shows so this is amazing to me

and lastly. the name of minecrap is changed to マインクシャット (mainkushatto), which seems to be a play on some word plus “minecraft” like in english. i’m not sure what the wordplay is. i’ll get back to you on this

lore-y important stuff

about dess

in japanese, the december typing puzzle still spells out “december” in english.

noelle refers to dess as “onee-chan” (older sis)— it’s common for japanese people to refer to their older siblings like this, and it would be extremely weird if noelle called her “dess”. she could have called her “dess-neechan” or some variation of that, but i highly doubt that the name “dess” is being obscured, especially because “dess” transliterated would sound extremely close, if not alike to “desu” as well as the transliteration of “death”.

the knight

(i took the screenshot and forgot to turn auto captions off, sorry)

this line from a swatchling says something like “it captures the moment where the ‘knight’ creates a ‘fountain’ themself, with their own hands”, but the word for “themself” (みずから/mizukara) is written in hiragana, and “mizukara” could also technically be read as “from water”. was this a deliberate water-darkness parallel? i have no idea.

speaking of water!

the roaring knight is referred to as “咆哮の騎士” (houkou no kishi), the knight of the roaring. the word for the roaring itself, 咆哮, means roar or scream. which eliminates the alternate meaning of roaring (also being possibly defined as the sound of rushing water), but that probably doesn’t solidify “roaring” as solely meaning that. there are a lot of terms in undertale that had multiple meanings, but had to be changed to have only one in the japanese localization. “roaring” might be similar to those instances.

angel

spamton calls noelle an angel just like in english, referring to her as “angel-chan”. if there’s somehow anyone out there that didn’t think that line was important, i am here to prove you wrong!!!

more interesting:

this is the line where noelle says that if this was a dream, she would grow wings and fly away— but in this version, she says “big angel wings” specifically. very interesting!

the two (2) other notable changes in weird route

the infamous “you whispered noelle’s name…” line is slightly different. slightly.

the “kris called for help” lines still say that kris is the one doing it, but this one does not say the subject at all. this is normal for japanese, regardless, it’s still very interesting that it doesn’t say “you”. it is still differentiated from the “kris” lines, but not specifically referring to you (the player).

the other difference is so minor that i’m not even sure what it is or if it’s different from the english version.

translation

EVEN IF YOU [Shout] AT THE [Receiver]

YOUR [Voice] WILL EVENTUALLY WITHER

YOUR [Voice]

THEIR [Voice]

AND YOU WILL realize you’re alone.

i do not know who “THEY” is that spamton’s referring to. the term he uses is gender-neutral and singular. is he talking about the player? idfk probably not

miscellaneous spamton-related stuff

spamton’s speech patterns are entirely different in the japanese translation, but they get the same message across. they include:

switching between formal and informal language

using weird mixtures of hiragana, katakana, english letters and kanji

using katakana re (レ) instead of hiragana shi (し)

cutting off words

random spacing

and occasionally using “die” and “death” as homophones for “dai” and “desu”

it’s so wacky and unnerving and strange, i love it :D

other spamton lore bits:

mike’s name is the same (マイク maiku). i somehow forgot to translate the mike-related dialogue. i will get back to you all if there’s anything of note.

the word for “garbage noise” is 雑音, with about the same meaning. unsurprisingly, the same word (the exact same phrase, in fact) is used for both the addison’s line and the gaster phone call line.

the last thing (i think)

in the roaring cutscene, the japanese word for “chaos” is said (in the “all will be plunged into chaos” line), but then says the transliterated version of the word (カオス) in parentheses. tsuwahasu noted that it’s “keyword-like” in the playthrough i watched. is this important? i have no idea

i’m sure there are things that i missed here, so (again) if you want to know about something, don’t be afraid to ask!! the jp version of deltarune should be looked at a lot more—not just for the lesser-known lore tidbits, but also for the cool stuff that was changed to fit the language. it’s a really cool localization!

[a-casual-kpopfan]

It's a Date. - Karina

Shoutout to @capslocked for the little beta read. <3

I'm starting to get back into the writing groove, dropping small fics here and there. This was fairly short and sweet, I hope you all enjoy as usual. :)

~~~~~

You were one of the hosts to take Aespa around New York while they’re on tour; today was an off day and you were with the group and their managers going out to several shopping districts and trying desserts throughout the day. 

“Oppa, how come you’re not looking around for things?” Little Winter walking along next to you like a puppy, if a puppy can carry like 5 shopping bags with their paws.

“I live in the city Winter; this is my lifestyle.” You look around the shopping centre, it’s bustling and hustling as NYC would be normally. “Oh, come on oppa, there’s got to be something for you to do too, what about a girlfriend?” You had to think about it, it’s been a while since you were out with someone, let alone had a long-term relationship. “Ah, the last time I dated someone was back in college.” You gave a little smile to Winter as the two of you walked just behind the main group of members and managers.

Karina who’s walking along the main group takes a glance behind, seeing you and Winter laughing through your conversation. She excuses herself from the main group and slows down to the pace of you and Winter. “Ahh, what’s so funny?” Karina may be one of the most visually appealing idols and one of the most captivating people to ever walk this planet. But her looks don’t define who she is; Karina is actually a walking toddler.

Her cheeks are puffed up and lips in a pout. “Winter here is calling me a fossil, calling me old because I haven’t dated since college!” You were playing along with the act, acting a little whiny and childish which was alright, you’ve been with the girls a couple days already, they’re really playful and outgoing which is something you really appreciate seeing in Korean idols compared to a lot of Western stars you’ve hosted around every once in awhile.

Winter laughs uncontrollably on your left side, and is holding onto your arm, Karina is happy to see that there’s someone to trust outside of their group. “How old are you then oppa?” Karina tilts her head like a puppy, it really seems like Aespa as a group is a bunch of little puppies. “I’m 26 years old.” Winter pretends to be super shocked, exaggerating a dropped jaw. “Oh, my goodness, you’re a grandpa!”

“Yah, I’m only 3 years older than Karina.” Trying to defend yourself from Winter, but on the other side Karina is laughing at Winter’s reaction. “Oh, you’re not that old oppa, I just see the little white hairs appearing on your head.” Karina jokes around but catches you off guard making your jaw genuinely drop. “Ms. Karina!” Your jaw stays open but with a smile, you are putting your hand over your heart as if you got shot, but what really shot you is Karina’s smile and laughter.

Your walk through the mall was fun, it was all smooth going until…

“Oppa! Let’s go get you some clothes!” Giselle, the most fluent in English, pulls you into a local clothing shop. “Giselle!” The idol continued pulling your arm, you really didn’t have a choice. “Please, just call me Aeri.” With a reassuring smile that it’s okay to be on a first name basis at this point. “I feel like we’ll know each other a lot more after today.” Aeri with an excited smile, confuses you but you just go with the vibe.

“Oo, you'd be good with this… And this… We should try this too…” Aeri is picking out several pieces of clothing, going through different kinds of pants, looking at the blazers and some tops. “Giselle.” Aeri looks at you with a glare. “Aeri…” The glare changed to a smile, relieving you of possible stress. “Oppa, just try these on, okay?” Dumping a small pile of clothes into your arms, all you could do is sigh and accept it.

You went through multiple variations of outfits from all the clothes that Aeri has chosen for you. After spending about a half hour trying on clothes, there was a set that both you and Aeri found fond of. “Wah, oppa! You look so handsome!” You were wearing a short sleeve dark blue blazer, though worn open and on the inside, a nice grey, almost a salt & pepper style t-shirt, a black jean, complemented with a very dark brown leather shoe. “Wow, I have to hand it to you; you have great style Aeri.”

“Perks of being an idol~” You look through the mirror and watch Aeri pose with a V sign, making you laugh.

“That decides it, let’s go buy them!” You shook your head and looked at Aeri through the mirror. “I may be making decent money but buying all this is too expensive for me.” Your little shopping companion comes up to the mirror and looks you in the eye. “Oppa, who said you were going to pay?” And out of her pocket is her credit card from the company. “Yah, wouldn’t they be mad if you bought something not for you with this card?”

“This is the least that I can do being such a great host for us the last couple days.” You turn around to see a sincere smile and it doesn’t seem like she would take ‘No’ as an answer. “Okay, you win this round.” Aeri clapping her hands and you shrug in defeat as you make yourself to a change room with your original clothing.

Aeri kept to her word, now you’re walking along with Ningning and holding quite a lot of clothing. “Are you having fun with us, oppa?” It’s almost like each member is having their turn with you throughout the day. “Sure, I am Ningning, I get to spend time with very famous idols.” Ningning wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “What do you really like to do for fun?” You were confused as to why the idols are being really personal with you lately.

“Hmm, I’m originally from South Korea, but after moving here I really grew into North American culture. Watching basketball games, going out for bar food like wings and burgers with friends late at night. I do enjoy playing billiards, I’m always open to trying new activities.” Ningning now seems to be happy with that answer. “It seems that you’re very active.” You and Ningning kept the conversation going with each other, more and more you’re finding out the girls like to drink and eat a lot in the dorm, yet they seem so fit for the amount of food they consume and more Ningning is finding out your habits here in New York.

Once finding a restaurant to have a late lunch, you and the group were seated but you offered to sit separately as you would like to give the girls and managers their privacy.

“Nonsense! You’re sitting with us!” Karina was not happy with your suggestion. “You’re a part of us and you’re sitting with us.” The leader was standing firm, and wouldn't budge for anything. “Because you’re trying to bail on us, I’m making you sit next to me to keep an eye on you.” Karina poking your chest with her finger, you were given no choice. You couldn’t help but smile about it and shrugged. “Good, let’s go.” Karina grabbed your hand and dragged you in.

You were led to a large table fitting for 8 near the back of the restaurant, not completely private but obscure enough to eat comfortably. Karina sat on a bench with Winter and a manager beside her, one seat was left, and you were going to offer it to Ningning or Giselle, but you watch them already sit on the other side of the table with their other managers. “Nope, with me oppa.” Karina was sitting down, looking up to you with a smile.

“I really can’t get away from you, can I?” You finally gave up and sat down to the group’s leader. “Looks like someone has a liking for him.” Winter nudges Karina, shortly getting a slap to the leg to deny the teasing. “Yah…” You couldn’t hear the little whispers, you tried to ignore everything so the members can have a sense of comfortability and privacy, but then Karina can easily notice that you’re feeling uncomfortable.

“Hey… It’s okay.” Karina lays her palm on top of your hand and pats it. “Just be yourself, that’s all I ask for.” Her head is on a tilt, her smile, sincere. You nod your head and try your best to follow Karina’s asking. She’s always tried to make sure that her members were comfortable, that her manager was okay, but you being an outsider only have been with them for a short amount of time, Karina had always made sure that everyone was alright, she’s a great leader.

Lunch went smoothly, you and the managers had some good laughs, the members were having a good time, but alas all things must come to an end. The shopping is done, lunch is over, now you’re walking the girls and managers back to the hotel.

You bid your farewells, but Karina comes running back to you before you have the chance to leave the premises. “Oppa, I have a favour to ask you.” Karina's demeanour is off, hands behind her back, one foot balance on her toes, her eyes facing the ground, avoiding your gaze. “What is it, Karina?” You were curious, it’s not everyday you have a beautiful woman in front of you acting like a fool.

“I... Uh… Have this friend who’s coming to the city later tonight… I was hoping you could tour her around, like you did with us?”

“Oh… What could I have hoped for?”

“Sure, what time should I meet her?” You accepted without an issue, you wanted to be a good guy, you just spent a few days with the group and why should you decline? It’s not like you have a date to attend to.

“Yay! Thank you oppa, here’s her number, meet her here at 8pm!” Karina hands you a paper with an unusual phone number, not an area code you’re familiar with but you took in anyways. “Thank you oppa.” Karina bowed in respect before running back inside the hotel.

You would be a little disappointed, but this is a favour.

~~~~~

You make it back to the hotel at the time Karina told you to be there by, you texted the phone number that you arrived in the front. Good thing Aeri took you to go shopping for new clothes, you must dress up a little for the New York nightlife.

You: Hey, I’m in front of the lobby.

Unknown: I’ll be right there!

That reply came quickly, you were on a look out for someone outside the hotel, but the results would surprise you.

“Good evening oppa.”

You spin around to Karina, a different outfit from this afternoon. Instead of a white sweater and a long skirt, the Aespa leader is changed into a thin back long sleeve, mesh-like material being near fully see-through, a black bandeau underneath, complimenting her large bust and curves, paired with blue jeans and to finish with black boots.

“K-Karina?!”

Shocked to see the leader alone, no supervision, not even anyone watching from the entrance. “I hope you don’t mind me taking off my extensions, I felt like the short hair for our date.” Karina plays with her hair then smiles at you, she has somewhat of a gummy smile.

“Wait, I’m sorry, our date?” You were extremely caught off guard, Karina? Aespa’s leader? A kpop idol? A date? With you? “You could have better options than this old man.” The idol slowly walked towards you, grabbing your hand with both of hers, it’s now you really took the time to see, Karina has baby hands. “Why not? You treated us well, made sure we were comfortable, this is the least I could do… And I want to get to know you more.”

“But I live here, you need to go back to South Korea soon.” The idol was only giggling, she probably has already thought about it, otherwise you wouldn’t think she would go through the trouble of setting up a date with you. “We can cross that bridge when we get to it. There is a lot of tour guides in South Korea that would like a bilingual tour guide.”

With Karina’s amazing smile looking at you the way it is, how could you deny her?

“Okay Karina.”

“Please, my name is Yu Jimin.”

You smile and chuckle.

“Okay Jimin, what would you like to do tonight?”

She pulled away one hand, but still held yours with one. “Hmmm…” Her facial expression turned to a pout, playfully laying a finger on her chin, exaggerating the fact she’s thinking. “How about we go to a bar, get some wings and maybe watch a basketball game if there’s any?” Your jaw was left open, how could she have known?

“Ningning?”

“Mhmm.” With a cute nod.

How would you survive spending the night with Kar- Jimin?

The two of you walked off in a direction where you heard was a good restaurant that had some of the best wings and flavours, Jimin couldn’t let go of your hand, she was basically latched on your arm at this point.

“Oppa, are the New York Knicks any good?”

“Oh man… Don’t get me started…”

[lemmetreatya]

Maybe It’s Foreboding (Or Not) — Miguel x fem!Reader

word count: 1.9k 

content: no extreme warnings, modern au, fem!reader, reader uses female pronouns, reader commutes to work by train, reader knows basic spanish, hc that miguel speaks both irish and spanish — and that he’s irish on his father’s side (idk if this is correct or not), use of petnames, id say miguel is a bit ooc — but hes not — he just doesn’t have all that canon trauma going on sjsksk

FINALLY DID SOMETHING OF GOOD QUALITY FOR ONCE????? had to get back on my shit yktfv!!! also psa for the translations — i do not speak fluent spanish and not a lick of irish so please!! if there’s anything incorrect/needs changing, dont be afraid to tell me!! hope you enjoy ❤️❤️

Your usual commute to work was barely ever eventful. It mostly consisted of you getting onto your train — hoping you’d get a seat — and feeling despondent every time you noticed no seats were available. 

Which was expected: You had to use a busy train in order to get to work on time. Any earlier and you’d have to wonder around your office’s surroundings to waste time and any later would have you clocking in late. 

This timed train was so much more convenient for pace but it just never granted you those graceful minutes to sit down. 

But alas, you stuck with it, because what else was there to complain about? The trains weren’t too full so it didn’t mean you were squashed like packed sardines and it was relatively quiet due to most passengers being too mellow at this time of morning to make any lucrative noise. 

“Sorry, Miss.” 

At first, you ignored the deep sounding words, assuming they could have been for anyone. But then a soft tap bounced just over your thigh and so you looked down to see what the disturbance was. 

Looking up at you was a man with focused eyes. He wore a plain black suit with matching trousers. His white shirt had two buttons undone and he wore no tie. You couldn’t help but noticed how tossled his hair was. Clearly he was on his way to some type of occupation.

“Would you like to sit down?” He asks. 

“Oh! I…”

You lean off from the pole you were supporting yourself on and adjust your bag on your soldier. Maybe this man was pitying you because you looked tired. You honestly weren’t and were genuinely just being comfortable, but you guess your lax composure compelled this reaction from him. 

“No. Sorry, I was just being lazy. I’m fine, you don’t need to give up your seat for me.” 

You shake your head and deny his request but the man continually persists. He was already starting to get up from his seat. 

“No, en serio, sit.” He moved his briefcase over with his foot. “Can’t have a pretty lady like you standing now, can we?”

And it’s not like you agreed; Flattery of any kind from a stranger was always met with caution, but concerning he was going out of his way to give you a seat, you guess it’d be rude to deny it. 

“Oh…How kind.” You stagnantly laugh. 

The man took your place from before, now standing over you as he held onto the pole. He placed his briefcase between his feet. As you finally sit down and change your bag from your arm to your lap, you look up at the man with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.” 

He only smiles at you acutely before offering you a curt nod. That was the only interaction you had the whole ride before you got off at your stop and made your way to work. 

The next time you see the man isn’t until two days after the first ordeal and towards the end of the week. 

He sees you before you see him, regarding he boarded the train sometime before you, and instantly flags you over.

“Miss!”

Weirdly, his call made you smile, and you pot on over, not expecting much. 

“You really don’t have to.” You try as he gets up and out of his seat. He’s however already shaking his head. 

“Don’t be silly. I already told you why you do so I don’t wanna hear anymore complaining.”

With rolled lips, you nod as you meekly sit down. Having an abash austere about you, you struggle to look up at him as you speak. 

“Thank you. It’s very kind of you.” 

“No need for thanks.” 

You wait several seconds before looking up to give him a communal look of gratitude but you find he’s already looking down at you. You find difficultly baring his coarse stare and so you look back down at your lap. 

Throughout the ride, you can’t help but notice how his leg kept innocently brushing against yours. 

Once again, no more words were shared between you and like before, you get up and leave for your stop once it comes. 

“You know how this goes.”

This is about the sixth time the man has offered his seat up for you, and quite frankly you do know how it goes, but it just never seems like a good enough reason to therefore take his seat. 

“Señor.” You muse with a light smile as you board the train. “You really don’t have to.” 

“Oh, but I really do. Come. Sit.”

The man is already out of the seat, hand widely displaying towards it — it’s yours. 

Despite the seatless train, most people know by now not to sit in it’s stead. The man himself is tall and wide enough to deter anyone from trying, but most reoccurring passengers know the deal as well as you do.

As you take your seat, the man smiles down at you. His smiles have gotten a lot warmer over the various interactions. Per usual, he places his briefcase down near your feet and brush his knees with yours. You believe it’s going to be another wordless journey but the man opens his mouth, closes it, before saying: 

“And please, call me Miguel.” 

He jogs your knee with his, so you were aware it was you he was talking to, but you still looked up at him with a slight expression of confusion. For some reason, it was as if moths — the Night’s Butterfly — were flitting around within the neck of your stomach. 

“Sorry?”

He sighs out of his nose. It was not out of annoyance, but as if he too was experiencing some emotions of nervousness. The man however had enough confidence to look down at you and attempt to gain your gaze. 

“As opposed to señor, call me Miguel.” 

Your mouth lets out a small ‘ah’.

“Miguel.” You repeat. 

So his name was Miguel. 

It suited him, and made slight sense concerning he seemed to know Spanish well, but even more so because it was as if he had metamorphosed right in front of you. It wasn’t a physical change, but being able to put a name to a face definitely altered your perception of him. It was as if he’d become more human. 

With a soft hum, you look up at him with an inquisitive contort. 

“Miguel.” You taste his name in his mouth once more. “Is that what you’d like me to call you or is that your actual, real, government name?” 

The man’s expression was unreadable. 

“Well, what do you think?”

You shrug, unsure why he’s asked the question, but you give your answer anyways. 

“I’d think it’d be kinda stupid for you to give your government name to a stranger on the train. So I’m guessing it’s a nickname or at least a pseudo one.” 

Miguel’s eyes clip towards the moving view behind you, before training back onto your face. 

“Looks like I’m kinda stupid then.” 

You pause, register what he’s said, and then let out a tinkling laugh as you shake your head meticulously. Miguel chuckles a few seconds after you, and he can’t help watching you as he does so. 

There’s a pause. 

“I’m not much of a stranger anymore though, right? We’re more acquaintances than anything.” He tries. 

“But Miguel, you don’t even know my name.”

“Only because you haven’t told me.” He shrugs.

This is the most quick-fire that he’s ever been but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it. 

“You want my government name or the pseudo one?” You muse. 

“It’s only fair that you give me the government one.” He catches himself before adding more gently, “Only if you’re comfortable doing so and kinda stupid like me.”

Once again, you can’t help the smile that braces your mouth. You tell him your name, the government one, and Miguel knocks your knees together in concur. 

“Ah. Hermosa nombre por una hermosa dama.” [1]

He says, and regardless of whether you understood or not, you knew what he was getting at. If his words didn’t convince you then it was the silky look of— admiration? That gave him away. 

Your cheeks heated, and your head dipped. All you could force out was a humble Thank You. 

“Where I’m from, we have this saying.” 

Miguel angles his breakfast snacks in your direction and you wordlessly take a small handful. 

Surprisingly, your usual train was a lot quieter this morning. Maybe it was due to school holidays season, but there was enough space for you and Miguel to both have a seat. Your journey so far had been non-stop chatter. 

“Más í an ceann í, beidh a fhios ag do chroí sula ndéanann tú.” [2] He reprises wisely. 

It wasn’t Spanish, and you knew Miguel spoke Irish (“That old bastard was only good for one thing.”), so the translation was pretty much lost on you. 

“Is that so?” You say with a hum and a crunch. 

Miguel is also crunching on some of his snack, palm covering his mouth as he chucks the small pebbles towards the back of his throat before he’s shaking his head. 

“Nope, that was a complete fucking lie. No such saying exists like that, I just made it up on the spot.” Miguel leaves room for you to let out a burst of laughter. “But, if it was a saying, I’d live by it like it was gospel.”

Shaking your head, you finish the portion of snacks that were in your mouth before you reply. 

“Maybe you should paten it then. Make sure no one else gets the chance in saying it’s the gospel they wrote.” 

“Maybe I should patent it…” Miguel echoes to himself with a deep laugh. “Yeah, maybe I should.” 

The both of you lull into a comfortable silence. The sort of silence you could fall into with a long time friend who was low maintenance, or a family member who you tolerated sharing the living room space with. It was the type of stilling that didn’t require speech but welcomed it if it came. Mornings with Miguel were the calm before the inevitable storm and the small pick-me-up that pushed you out of bed. 

But then as you pondered how he made you feel, you realise that you only knew Miguel within the context of your work commute. You’d only ever spoken to this man within the short time that you travelled to work; Never before, never after. Had you gotten just one train earlier or later — heck, one carriage — different that fateful day, it would have inevitably changed the course of your life and the starting foundation of the friendship (?). 

Life truly was funny in how it dealt it’s cards. 

“What does it mean anyways?” You ask with piqued interest. 

Miguel makes a WTF face, a face he made often, before he’s scrunching up his packet of finished snacks and dumping it within the blue convenience store bag he had. You recognise that everything he’d purchased was in Spanish. 

“What does what mean? Be more specific.” 

“Your fake saying you lied about.” 

Miguel turns his head to look at you, those deep insightful eyes of his analysing you, searching for something. You’re not sure if he found what he was looking for. Whether he did or not, you wouldn’t know. 

The man only turns forwards again and snorts. 

“Don’t worry your pretty lil’ head about it.” He concludes. “You wouldn’t want to know.” 

________________________________

[1]: Beautiful name for a beautiful lady 

[2]: If she’s the one, your heart will know before you do

[rainylana]

“Good.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

requested by @braindelete

warning for smut, some hitting and light choking. it’s nothing to serious and is pretty short but inexperienced eddie isn’t something i’m very experienced with writing! hope you all like regardless! i’m taking requests.

It’s not that he wasn’t good, but the poor guy just didn’t know what he was doing, having no experience, and let’s face it, Eddie was extremely awkward in social situations, especially when they turned sexual.

But there was something about being around you that made him feel comfortable, more prone to relax and let his guard down. He didn’t trust easy and he didn’t know why. He assumed maybe it was the way he was raised.

You hadn’t slept with him yet, but you knew he was ready and so were you. You also knew that he hadn’t had much experience, but you didn’t mind taking the reins from him for a night. You thought it might be fun.

Your sitting on his lap, straddling him with hungry lips that stayed attacking the other pair. He’s already hard, aching to be freed from his boxers to feel you. You let him lead, unsure if it will embarrass him if you take control. You know better to straight out ask him how many women he’s slept with, because you’d certainly not answer if he asked you. But you want him to have a good time, and who doesn’t love a woman in charge?

“Lay back.” You husk, smirking through your lashes.

He’s practically melting under you, and quickly lays down on the couch, pulling you atop of him to hover above his hips. Your fluent in the way you kiss each other, and even though he misses a few swipes of his tongue to catch up with yours, you can feel the passion that he’s ready to release.

“Relax.” You run your hands down his chest, reaching his belt. He does as you ask, eyes dark and full of lust as he groans, his hard cock now in your hands. Your lips wrap around it, teasing him only for a minute to get him whimpering.

You toss your panties to the floor, lifting your hips to sink down on him. You both moan in sexual relieve, your bodies already beginning to shake.

You ride him, and you can see how he’s struggling with his moves. “There’s no shame- in learning, oh, Eddie.” You push out. “Let me teach you, huh?”

He gasps when you rock yourself harder, grabbing his hand to put it at the base of your throat. “Squeeze it.” You say. “Play with me. I’m not glass.”

He squeezes your throat, awkwardly, but he does what you say. He hold it’s there, staring at you as he semi chokes you, watching how your eyes glaze over. He’s half worried he’s going to kill you, but the power in his cock, and in his hand, makes him care less.

“Good.” You smile. “Spank me.”

He smacks you without a beat, but it’s a piss poor slap.

You give him a look. You bounce higher, controlling him like a dog. “Do it. I want you to. Impress me.”

He hits you harder that time and you moan. Everything new and sudden has him shaking and groaning, not knowing how much longer he’s going to last.

“Now, fuck me good, Eddie.” You plead.

He reaches up and grabs you, bringing you down so you’re chest to chest, he’s fucking up into you hard and good, just like you ask. And you have no idea what you unleashed.

[tangents-within-tangents]

The Bad Batch as Penguins of Madagascar Quotes

Bc I’ve seen a few posts making this magnificent comparison and both of these squads are near and dear to my heart and bc I need a distraction from the s3 premiere ahhh

Tech: *mission relevant info* Hunter: Tell me something I don’t know! Tech: Without mucus your stomach would digest itself Hunter: … Hunter: Tell me something else I don’t know…something less disturbing

Hunter: (to Caleb) It's okay, kid. We're not going to hurt you Crosshair: *cocks his gun* Not true, Hunter, they did authorize lethal force

Wrecker: *absolutely decking his bros* You pillow fight like a bunch of little girls!

Crosshair: What part of "zip it" eludes you?! The "zip" or the "it"?!

Echo: I don't mind saying it, that guy vexes me. *narrows eyes* He's a vexer.

Hunter: Boys, no training tonight. It's game night! Tech: Trivia! Let's play trivia! I dominate trivia! Omega: Oh! Can we play Simon Says this week? Tech: Yes, Simon says we play TRIVIA!!

Crosshair: I find reason tedious and boring. We'll use force.

Echo: I'm sorry, boys. I sometimes resort to sarcasm when facing the unknown Tech: No doubt

Hunter: Oh I’ve seen accident prone, try Wrecker and Crosshair! With a Chandrilan lantern! And SIX BOTTLES of rocket fuel!! Tech: Worst talent show ever

Hunter: There's no such thing as too paranoid, Omega. Remember that, and forget you ever heard it!

Tech: SCIENCE! WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?!?

Omega: I have an idea! But I'm not sure how safe it is Wrecker: I like it already!

Crosshair: *while fighting* You cannot win, Hunter! I am fueled with a boiling hate! A raging fury! Hunter: And a babbling mouth! *slaps him*

Omega: No! I swore I’d never use my adorability as a weapon again, and I meant it!

Echo: Wrecker, cover Omega’s ears, I intend to use my angry words

Tech: This red line shows the frustration level of a really smart person forced to take orders from some dunder-brained boob. As you can see the frustration just keeps rising and rising and rising. I mean, why don't they put the smart guy in charge, huh? IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE! SOMETHING HAS GOT TO GIVE, PEOPLE! AM I THE ONLY ONE SEEING THIS?!

Wrecker and Omega: *run in making incomprehensible panicked noises* Hunter: Anyone catch that? Echo: *nonchalantly interprets it exactly* The Batch: … Echo: What? I’m fluent in panic

Tech: Cool cars go faster. That's a scientific fact.

Cody, in his one episode: I believe now I know why “volunteers” ends in “tears”

Hunter: No batcher gets left behind, that’s why! Wrecker: What about Crosshair? Hunter: Okay, one batcher gets left behind Omega: and Echo? Hunter: Maybe two batchers get left behind Tech: Um… Hunter: *groan* Comparatively few batchers get left behind, okay?!

Omega: I thought you agreed this was a dangerous weapon! Wrecker: Which is the best kind! What good is a safe weapon?! Tech: He has a point

Hunter: Avert your eyes, young Omega, you’ll never be able to unsee this! Tech, recording bc that’s his freaking hobby: Don’t worry about it I’ll burn you a dvd!

Crosshair: *standing outside the Marauder* Hunter! I have brought you a hand drawn greeting card! It says “Roses are red. Posies are green. Sorry about Bracca, I was too mean. Your pal, Crosshair” :) Hunter: *walks out and shreds the card*

Hunter: Get up here. That’s an order! Tech: *salutes* Permission to defy order? Hunter: Permission denied! Tech: Then I deny your denial (sorry)

Echo: *watching Hunter and Wrecker, captured and surrounded by stormtroopers* Well this hardly seems fair Echo: *jumps in a walker and defeats them easily* Told you it wasn't fair

*Phee and Tech kiss* Omega: *eyes being covered by Hunter* awww Wrecker: Finally!

[drsbutmakeitspicy]

Have some more of (Am I a human Chair Universe) Part I ; Part II

(If you find any mistakes I’m sorry, English is not my first language but I swear I’m fluent in it! I’m just a bit tired 😩)

This happens right after the last part, go check it for more context.

Also kinda 17+ rated? Nothing too much tho.

“We should go get some desert and go to your room.”

Oscar says while running his hands through Carlos back, caressing him while Carlos tries to fix Oscar’s hair, he always leave it a mess when they made out.

“Maybe we should go out, no?” Carlos ask, hand now caressing Oscar’s jaw his other hand tries to push Oscars chin up. The Aussie already knows Carlos want to kiss the freckles on his neck.

 “We just had dinner, why go out?” Oscar pushes him away before his lips can touch his neck. He stares at Carlos confused “Don’t we have breakfast and golf with your cousins tomorrow morning? We really should just stay in and sleep.”

He sees the way Carlos  eyebrowns narrow for a second and he watches as it changes “Oh! You mean we go to my room to sleep, yes?”

“Of course I meant sleep, what were-...NO! No no no!!” He feels his face burn “God last time was already traumatic enough for me.”

His hands now on his face, covering his eyes, trying not to remember about Reyes, Sainz Sr and Blanca walking in on them making out in the hammock set outside by the pool. Carlos was quick to pull him close, hiding Oscars face on his neck while also distracting his family, asking something in spanish. Oscar could only pray they wouldn’t want to talk him or anything right now and also that they didnt see how his hand was squeezing Carlos’ cock through his pants when they walked in. God what a nightmare.

“Thats why I suggested to go out.” Oscar can hear it on his voice, Carlos has a big smile on his face. “Stop doing that, you’re gonna hurt your eyes. Look at me I have a question for you.”

Carlos  grabs both his wrist, gently taking his hands away from his face, searching for Oscar’s eyes “It is an important question.”

He let go of his wrists and runs his fingers on his own hair, a habit that appears when he feels nervous or embarrassed.

“Yea?” Seen a shy Carlos always makes his heart skip a beat. “Cmon, shoot.” Oscar is looking straight in his eyes.

“About petnames, you like them no?”

“I do.”

“Can I? Uh, can I also give you one?”

“Yea.”

“ Can I call you Amor?”

Oh Oscars hands moves on its own as he grabs Carlos shirt closing the gap between their chest.

“Can you say that again?”

“Mi Amor”

Oscar pulls him in for a kiss, a slow and deep one. He thought the petname would be something stupid like 'Sloth', as Carlos always joke about and not just Carlos calling him ‘love’ almost like he is ofering his heart and soul to him. Carlos kissed him back but was also the first to pull away “We need to go back there-“

“Shit, your parents probably think we are getting up to something here.”

Carlos get a hold of his hand, smiling while pulling him to the dining room. “Cmon, I really want some tiramisu.”

And Oscar’s follow.

The light in the room is dimmed, there is a song playing in the background and Carlos parents are slow dancing in the middle of the huge dinning room, looking at eachothers eyes living in their own world, their plates forgotten on the table.

As Oscar turn to say something funny to the other he gets surprised to  see how Carlos eyes are following his parents as they dance in circles, a found smile on his face. The only thing Oscar can think while watching the scene is I wouldn’t mind growing old with you like this.

Carlos pulls his hand to his lips “Would you like to join them? Would you dance with me, Amor?”

“Yes” Oscar replies already putting his free arm around Carlos waist.

 ‘I think I love you’. — They both think, but won’t say it yet.

[lipglossanon]

Nobody's Listening When We're Alone

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

{offshoot one shot; stepdad!Leon S Kennedy x fem!reader}

Anon asked for bilingual reader who’s overheard talking to her friend about how hot Leon is which leads to a nsfw situation cause she doesn’t know he’s been learning the language 🤭 hope you enjoy anon!!

as I’m not fluent in anything but English (I know like 3 phrases in Spanish and some hella basic ASL) and I don’t trust google translate to be correct, I’ve made the italicized portions to represent when speaking in reader’s native tongue

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, stepcest, bilingual reader, nipple play, teasing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread ✌️ basically porn with no plot 😝

title from Dangerous by Big Data

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Your friend called as you started to walk into the kitchen, noticing that Leon’s already at the counter working on dinner. He smiles at you as you answer the phone and take a seat at the island. 

“Hey what’s up?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely a drag but what about you?”

“We should probably try and meet up this weekend then!”

After a while the conversation slips away from English to your native tongue. 

“No, yeah he’s here. He’s actually making dinner. You wanna pic? Hmm I’ll see if I can get a selfie.” 

“Ugh, he’s so hot, it’s stupid. I know.”

“You should see him after he comes back from a run or working out. God, he’s so sweaty and he’s wearing like hardly any clothes.”

“Mm yeah, mom’s so lucky and she doesn’t even know it. I’d be on my knees licking the sweat off of him.”

Looking over as Leon finishes adding some spices to whatever dish he’s making, you glance up and notice the time. 

“Oh shoot, I gotta call mom. Yeah, I’ll talk to you later.”

You hang up the phone and smile at Leon as he sets down the mixing bowl. He walks over to your side of the island. 

“Probably should take that selfie right?” 

You gasp, eyes wide but Leon only steps behind you gesturing for you to pickup your phone. 

Shakily, you raise it up, the forward camera catching Leon nosing at your hairline and dropping a kiss on the shell of your ear. 

He turns his gaze to you in the camera as he cups your breasts through your shirt, thumbs grazing your nipples until they’re hard. 

“Naughty girl, not wearing a bra?” He rumbles in your ear, goosebumps raising across your arms. 

“Leon,” you mewl, eyes fluttering as he keeps tweaking and pinching your nipples through your flimsy shirt. 

He tsks, “Now, that’s not my name.”

“Daddy,” you whine, pushing your chest into his broad hands, thighs rubbing together to ease the ache pulsing in your clit. 

“There we go, such a good girl,” he murmurs, pinching your nipples even harder, watching as your eyes flutter  shut at the feeling. 

He plays with your tits as he tells you take a picture. Your hands shake but you manage to take a few. Lifting your shirt, he has you flashing your camera as his hands go back to groping you, fingertips flicking your hard nipples. 

“Take some more pictures baby,” he kisses your neck, “then send’em to me.”

Your clit throbs as your panties fill with slick, snapping half a dozen pics of Leon toying with your nipples. He watches over your shoulder as you open up your texts and send the pics over to him. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs in your ear making you whine. 

“Now let’s go up to your room, we got a few hours before your mom’s home.”

In no time at all, Leon’s pressing you face down in the pillow as he rails you into your bed, pillows falling off the side from the shaking. 

“Slutty girl I’ve got huh,” he laughs, humping his hips harder into your greedy pussy, “gotta teach you a lesson in manners.”

“Uh huh,” you drool, face turned to the side, ass raised in the air for Leon to fuck deeper into your wet hole, “daddy, please.”

“Fuck,” he groans, grinding his cock against your g-spot, “that’s so fucking hot, say it again little slut.”

“Daddy, daddy, please,” you chant, dizzy with arousal and drooling on the sheets.

“So good, such a tight fucking pussy,” he growls, slipping a hand underneath your hips to tease across your clit, “gonna make you squirt all over me.”

“Leon,” you squeal as he picks up the pace, ramming into your squelching pussy as he rubs soft circles into your swollen clit. 

“God, glad your mom’s not home,” he groans, chuckling when you clench down on him, “yeah don’t want her to see me fucking this little pussy, huh? Daddy just couldn’t help it honey, had to get my dick in your tight hole.”

You moan loudly, bouncing yourself back on his cock, “This is so wrong, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know,” he smacks your ass, “it’s so dirty baby, but gotta get my dick wet somehow, right?”

You nod, “Yes, yes, need you in my pussy. Feels so good.”

“Yeah it does,” he laughs meanly, “best pussy I’ve had in a while.”

He shoves his cock deep into your cunt and grinds, making you squirm and whine as his dick rubs all against the spongy spot at the front of your pussy. Your hands twist in the sheets as he flicks and pinches your pudgy clit.

“Daddy, gonna cum,” you slur against the bed.

“Do it then,” he taunts, free hand coming down to slap your ass hard, “cum all over my cock, wanna feel this tight little pussy squeeze me.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re screaming out your orgasm against your drool coated sheets, pussy clamping rhythmically around Leon’s fat cock. 

“Oh honey, that feels so fucking good,” he praises you, hands slapping your ass again making you squeal, “fucking work that pussy on my cock, wanna cum inside you.”

“You can’t,” you whine back at him although you really wouldn’t mind it, pussy fluttering at the thought of Leon’s cum filling your cunt.

“You can’t stop me,” he laughs, “besides don’t you wanna know what it feels like? Ever had a boy creampie your cute little pussy before?”

“Nooo,” you whimper as Leon’s fingers slide over your hip to start working soft circles into your clit, “never had one, s’bad, could get pregnant.”

Leon groans, “Yeah, that’s the point, guys like going raw so they can breed hot wet pussies like your’s, baby. C’mon, just let daddy fill you up, you know it’ll feel so good. Promise I won’t knock you up.”

You writhe back on him, feeling yourself get even wetter, “O-okay, but only if you promise I won’t get pregnant.”

He chuckles, “I promise I won’t give you a baby.”

You both are getting off to this fucked up scenario, both pretending like Leon’s promise actually holds any weight. 

“Cum in me, daddy,” you pant, mewling as his fingers rub your clit even faster, “want it, wanna feel it.”

“Oh fuck,” he groans, hips snapping hard against your ass, “ready? Fucking take it, take your daddy’s load deep in this needy little pussy.”

You whine as you feel his hot cum filling your cunt, stuffing you so full it even drips out around his cock. He ruts his spent cock into your sloppy pussy as he pinches your clit, watching as your back arches when your second orgasm sweeps through you. 

He pulls out with a grunt, laying down on the bed next to you, both of you panting and trying to catch your breath. 

He grins at you, smoothing his hand across your hair, “Maybe next time be a little more careful when talking with your friend, sweetheart.”