#Cross is an angry hispanic

[kittysl4t]

Miguel O'Hara x Hispanic reader

Fem civilian reader

Thinking of miguel being all tough and 'manly' but when he's near you, he gets all shy and nervous. 😔💗

+18 | Sub¡Dom relationship | voyeurism | vibrator | miguel being a cutey | Male Orgasm | Humiliation kink | Praise kink | nsfw

(English is not my first language)

Gif not mine

Miguel is a man that has a really good reputation, serious, manly, tough giant hero that whoever dares to cross his path with a slight different option to his, is done.

People close to his job environment were kinda scare of him, but tried not to make it to obvious, in case he gets more furious about it.

That scary, angry expression of his was immediately gone once he sees you, smiling at him, his gaze changes to a more relaxed one. He was finally home.

You didn't get up from the sofa and just lift your finger, you can see his face light up and rapidly goes towards you, getting on his knees immediately, kissing your hand.

'¿Que tal estás, amor?' (How are you, love?) You asked, pleased by the quickly submission of your giant boyfriend.

You rub his cheek cutely, and touch his soft wavy hair 'Bien, estaba un poco estresado por el trabajo, but contigo a mi lado im much better' (Good, i was a little stressed 'cause work, but w you by my side im much better).

Miguel never considered himself a submissive men. All the other relationships he has been in before, were pretty normal, but with you he is a different men, he feels like he only exists to please you, not only sexually, of course.

You want something? He give it to you no matter what, no matter the money, the time. You want to fuck him in the middle of his work?, You have it.

No complaints, no 'buts' , no 'i can't' .

You love going outside w him, watch him begin all tough and demanding to the people around him.

So funny seeing him squirm and change his expression when you set the vibrator to the max, you can't help but laugh at him when he gives those pleading eyes.

Poor thing, he knows you won't stop, you're gonna make him cum in front of his employees. :(

He gets all flustered, but he never changes his grumpy face.

'i have to go for a moment i'll be right back' you see how he quickly runs to the restroom. You grab your phone, and immediately send him a message '¿Quien te dio permiso a irte? Brat' (Who gave permission to go? Brat)

'Please, mommy, not infront of them'

'salte, miguel' (get out, Miguel)

And as the good boy he is, he obeys.

A couple of minutes of your teasing is all it takes for him to cum in front of everyone.

Surprisingly no one noticed were their scary boss weird behavior comes from and they tried to ignored it.

'Good boy' you whisper closer to his now very warm face

He looks at you flustered, proud and surprised of his good behaviour and acting skills.

------------------------------------- • 🍒

Love y'all, if there's any bad grammar please let me know 😭. (Requests are open)

[fryingpan1234567]

Uh huh. It’s the Day of the Dead.

(…Not today. Just. Bear with me here)

LISTEN

I think Hades kids have a natural death holiday calendar built into their internal clock. Every holiday honoring the dead and even when there’s nearby funerals or celebrations of death— a little ping goes off in the Underworld kids’ heads.

So Día de los Muertos rolls around one year, and Leo, who was expecting himself and a few Hispanic campers he knew of to be the only ones celebrating, nearly passes the fuck out when Nico and Hazel show up in matching skull paint.

Not sugar skulls. Just regular ones. But still, it’s each of their full faces and down their necks until it disappears into the collars of their shirts. 

Hazel is wearing a black-orange-yellow dress that brushes her boots when she twirls, and crown of marigolds atop her cinnamon curls like a halo. In the black “eye sockets” around her eyes, she did a bright orange wing on each side that dissipated into yellow smoke floating up her face. She got Piper’s help with that part, but it was her idea.

Nico’s got big dramatic cracks on one eye and the other cheek and a black hoodie that’s way too big for him. It’s deadass Coco merch. Like the movie. The back says ✨Disney’s COCO✨ in big bright letters.

“I like the Book of Life better,” Leo joked, crossing his arms.

Nico blinked, confusion evident on his face.

“What?”

“Nice hoodie,” was all Leo said as he turned to continue on with his tamales, humming ‘Remember Me’ to himself.

Before you ask, yes, Leo painted his face too. Ornately. It’s a little bit wild.

There’s shading, there’s bright swirls and perfectly symmetrical flowers, there’s neon patterns of all kinds. He started the night with a chips and guac hat like. Like in Despicable Me. But he and Hazel traded later so he got a flower crown and she got a snack hat because she was absolutely fascinated by the concept. Also with Piper’s help, he got her to put orange streaks in his already unruly hair. Brother does not fuck around on the Day of the Dead. He’s lost too many people, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t recognize each and every one of them.

Even Festus got a new paint job. Leo told people Festus was his Alebrije. Which is why he’s pink and orange and blue and green. Obviously. (He did bring Leo back after he died, so that’s to his credit. Professional spirit guide shit.)

Anyways the mystery of why Frank and Will and Jason all had smudged paint on their faces was solved when a group of campers saw Jason fully make out with Leo in the quad, and Leo pushed his face away, hollering about how Jason was gonna ruin his paint. Jason just laughed at him and told him he’d help fix it later.

(Percy was home with his mom for the holiday, but camp gets an angry FaceTime the next day because they celebrated without him and they better wait next year I mean honestly the disrespect)

[00belle00lovely00]

Well, since poly ships are now an option, curious to see how you'd view DogDay x CatNap x CraftyCorn 🫢

(I don't personally ship those three together btw. Just curious 🧡💜🤍)

OH! OF COURSE! I've noticed as of late that this ship in particular is VERY popular.

And yes! Poly ships are very much welcome since I'm poly myself. And to be completely honest with you, the majority of the ships I mention don't specifically fall into my favourites, but boneless I still love these concepts you'll give me! Hey, even you could say it helps me improve my writing skills!

🧡💜🤍☀️🌙🎨🧡💜🤍☀️🌙🎨🧡💜🤍☀️🌙🎨🧡💜🤍☀️

PLEASE... BY ALL MEANS.... THIS SHIP GOTTA BE CALLED FLOWER BOUQUET. IT'S LITERALLY THREE TYPES OF FLOWER SCENTS IN A SINGLE SHIP. Wait is vanilla a flower?- no?- yes?- no?- eh. Same thing

shy x extrovert x introvert

Wouldn't it be downright hilarious to picture Catnap and Dogday being Craftycorn's muses for paintings? IT'S A CUTE CONCEPT, YOU ALL KNOW IT.

Could we all just agree that she carries and costume-made diary everywhere she goes?

Both Dogday and Catnap in my head would've probably intimidated yet striked Craftycorn's interest in every way. Catnap, even though somewhat too quiet or too lazy to go on with the day, is a very calming type of person who rarely gets angry at others or anything for that matter. And as for Dogday he's legitimately a sunrise and smiles kind of active guy, which in a way Craftcorn found them both endearing. And BECAUSE of that, she would've had a crush on them both at the same time and battled with her own feelings the whole time in who she liked the most, or in some way, even hoped she didn't since her nerves would be the end of her.

Craftycorn would too take her feelings out in drawing, just like in anything for that matter, and what would be her biggest fear? Catnap and Dogday seeing the things she has drawn at the end of the sketchbook.... don't ask what it is. We all know what it is.

Their date? Literally a cosy sleepover.

Their favorite activity? STARGAZING!

Wanna know what's ironic? While Craftycorn would be all insecure and overthinking about the whole situation, Dogday and Catnap would be noticing these patterns of nervousness and literally girl failure, and start to equally agree that they find that strangely attractive. And amusing. But that's Catnap talking.

They both also think she's pretty as hell.

And yes. they talk about it all the time because ✨communication and consent is the best romantic gesture✨

Even though Craftycorn is a very shy and soft-spoken girl, she's SURPRISINGLY VERY capable of defending herself and others she really cares about. And I'm talking both verbally and physically. She'd be able to pull out a punch on whoever complains about ANYTHING related to Catnap, Dogday or even her. You go, girl!

Okay... actually, changed my mind. She would do it but feel INCREDIBLY guilty later.

They watch My Little Pony and Carebears together on a date. Change my mind.

Could you all imagine how GOOD it would smell the air of their houses was every time they hung out? Like- you're telling me the air would be jasmine scented on one corner, vanilla to the other, and then lavender in every cushion? MY GOD.

I wonder if they do PDA. Craftycorn and Catnap would be most likely to do it but very lowly (like holding hands or wrapping an arm with each other), while for Dogday he would WANT TO... buuut he doesn't want to cross boundaries. So he'd keep it to himself. And probably crying inside not to pounce on top of the two of them into a tight hug.

They love it when Catnap helps them to sleep, especially lullabies.

OH IMAGINE THIS. What if Craftycorn knew Spanish and called Catnap "Lunita" (little moon) and Dogday "solsito" (little sun). NO- IM-... IM NOT SAYING THIS BECAUSE I'M HISPANIC AND I ADORE HEADCANON CHARACTERS THAT RELATE TO MY COUNTRY- THAT IS NOT-

Okay, that or "my sunshine" and "my twilight". IT'S CUTE OKAY- I KNOW IT'S CORNY BUT WE GOTTA LOVE CORNINESS FROM SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T SHOW IT MUCH

(for context to the next headcanons):

Catnap in my own interpretation is a selective mute. All due to the 'red smoke incident' that occurred a few nights ago. He was so terrified of how not only his lavender gas was transported into that horrendous gas that made his friends laugh ever so hysterically and dementedly, but his body acted in a way that made no sense whatsoever. His movements were strange, creepy, and terrifying. So much so that it scared Catnap beyond thought. Even though all argued that it was just a 'collective nightmare' they had due to the circumstances of the storm. It didn't change anything Catnap went through. Everything he saw...

And at the end of the day, he decided to make a silent vow. Where he wouldn't let that smoke ever come out of his mouth again, even if it cost never to open his mouth. Never to speak again.

Why all that lore dump? WELL. IMAGINE. CATNAP KNOWING ASL/SIGN LANGUAGE. IT IS THE COOLEST THING EVER.

DogDay and Craftycorn after hearing about Catnap's vow, they were EXTREMELY worried about him. On some occasions, they tried to speak some sense into him about the mere thought of never talking again, but at the end of the day, they had to respect Catnap's decision. SO IN EXCHANGE, THEY WANTED TO LEARN ASL TOO! AND IT IS SUPER CUTE AND- KAINFIYLIAHDFCHASKDCFHNAKSJDCFHALNKUH-

Craftycorn also thought of teaching Catnap how to draw, with of course Dogday coming in to learn well. Since it was an alternative and temporary idea on communication while everyone else was catching up on Bubba's lessons on ASL.

OH NO... CRAFTYCORN- I JUST REALIZED SHE DOESN'T HAVE FINGERS- SHE HAS HOOVES! THEREFORE SHE CAN'T THEORETICALLY DO ASL. OML SHE'D BE ASHAMED ASF.😭

For some reason, singing doesn't accidentally make the scents of any of the Smiling Critters out of their mouths. So whenever Catnap can, he tries to open up from his comfort zone (with the encouragement of the others) to sing them to sleep with a nice lullaby.

🧡💜🤍☀️🌙🎨🧡💜🤍☀️🌙🎨🧡💜🤍☀️🌙🎨🧡💜🤍☀️

I swear to god my AO3 fans are out for blood now. They probably gonna be mad asf if they find out I'm wasting so much time on this than the fanfic chapter I'm writing.

EVEN MORE NOW DUDE- THEY GONNA FIND OUT I WANNA WRITE ANOTHER FANFIC 😭

THIS IS GONNA END UP LIKE WHEN I HAD MY WATTPAD ACCOUNT... PLEASE... MERCY ON ME YALL... MERCY

[seaoflove07]

🌹 Oc Introduction 🌹

• Artwork by The Drawables •

The red rose symbolizes romance, love, beauty, & courage.

It was the beginning of you and me,

Little by little,

You haunted my heart

and I

Became your Rose.

- Poetry By Me.

• I created my Oc on Picrew •

~ Diabolik Lovers Oc ~

A human young adult.

Name: Christine Melendez.

Gender: Female.

Pronouns: She/her.

Age: 20 years old.

Nationality: Hispanic American.

Languages she speaks: She is fluent in English and Spanish.

Blood Type: A+

Favorite Color: Pink.

Birthday: October 21st.

Favorite Flower: Pink and Red Rose.

Favorite Season: Summer.

Favorite Food: Pizza.

Favorite Drink: Coffee. She's a coffee lover who drinks 5 or 6 cups a day. Please don't judge her.

Hobbies: Reading Poetry, Coffee Dates, Listening to Music, Baking Cookies and Nature walks.

Favorite Novel: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin.

Places she loves going to: The Beach, Botanical Gardens, Mall, Coffee Shops, Museums, and Bookstores. (Even though she only reads on her Kindle)

Christine is very hard-working and responsible. She hates laziness. She is a very outgoing person, loves hangouts and she's very talkative. She is not a shy person when it comes to meeting new people.

She lives in the United States and works at an Elementary School. She's one of the younger Teachers. She loves working with children.

Christine has a kind heart and loves helping others. But her little self can get moody at times and she gets angry easily. But she knows how to control her temper.

~ APPEARANCE ~

• Artwork by December Custom •

Eye Color: Medium Brown.

Hair: Blonde and her hair is 24 inches long. Sometimes she will have two different hairstyle.

Example: Left soft wavy. Right soft curls.

Height: 157.48 cm.

Breast size: C cup.

Scent: Roses.

All her body care and hair products are rose-scented. Her favorite perfume and signature scent is Coco Mademoiselle by Chanel. 🌹

A classy and very feminine fragrance. It’s a lovely floral scent with main notes of Rose, Patchouli, and a tiny hint of citrus. These notes together make the fragrance smell elegant and fresh. It's described that it smells like an imaginary fairytale garden. 💐

Christine loves this perfume and she uses it every day.

Azusa is obsessed with her scent. The scent of roses mixed with her blood scent is intoxicating to him.

• Artwork by The Drawables •

Style: Girly and Feminine.

• Artwork by Mark BrushesHands •

My Oc will not have a main outfit. She will have different outfits in all her arts.

Christine loves fashion and getting doll-up. She loves dresses. (Casual and Elegant)

She also loves skirts, cute blouses, high heels, and gold jewelry. Her favorite everyday necklace is a Gold Cross.

~ Diabolik Lovers AU Story Information ~

Story Title: Love Planted a Rose. 🌹

It will be a Trilogy. Dark, Maniac, and Ecstasy.

Art Cover and Story Description, Here.

Christine Diaboy Ship: 🔪Azusa Mukami.

• Artwork by The Drawables •

Azusa will be her one and only, I will NOT do Love Triangles or Multi-ship with the other Diaboys.

~ Why he calls her “Rose?” and not “Eve?”

Azusa calls Christine “Rose” mainly because of her scent of roses. But he has also said that the Red Rose in general reminds him of her.

Quotes is from a short Fanfic I wrote.

Azusa: “… I was… walking in the garden… and I picked up this… red rose for you...”

Caressing her cheek, he looks at her with so much love in his eyes.

Azusa: “You are… just… like this rose… You’re pretty… like this rose… you smell nice… like this rose … your skin is soft… like the…rose petals… and your blood… is the same color… like this rose…”

Quotes are from my Novel, Chapter 3.

Christine: “Rose? Why are you calling me “Rose?” When my name is Christine.”

He moves closer to her, runs his fingers through her hair, and strokes it. While caressing her arm with his other hand.

Azusa: “Your scent… is so good… and your skin… is so soft… like rose petals… you remind me of a beautiful red rose… The name suits you…”

“So nice... my own... little rose...”

Azusa likes to give roses to Christine as gifts, he also loves to place roses and other flowers on her hair. To him, she looks adorable. Later on in their story he also bought her a Red Rose hair clip. (The Red Rose in her hair that you see her wear in most of her arts, that's the clip he bought her) ☺️ Azusa also knows how to make Flower Crowns but he will only do those on special occasions.

Azusa and Christine both like going to the Garden a lot. They love taking walks together, holding hands, and enjoying the beautiful view of the different colors of the roses.

Roses are a huge symbol of their relationship.

The reason he doesn't call her “Eve” is because Yui Komori is in my story. She is the only true Eve. I did not want to replace Yui with Christine for the Eve Tittle. So I came up with another plan instead. Yui in this story her Diaboy choice is Ayato. (They are my favorite Ship) 🤭

Yui and Christine become good friends and you will see lots of interactions between them in the story.

So there is no reason for Azusa to call Christine “Eve” when she's not Eve.

Karlheinz has a different plan for Christine. He personally chose her. But I won't reveal that plan yet because it's a huge spoiler and a big character change. I'll probably reveal that plan in Maniac.

More information about their canon story and Ryoutei Academy. This will all be in another separate post.

~ Past Relationship ~ ⚠️

Before Azusa, Christine had a 4-year relationship with a guy from her hometown. His name is Mark. He was her first love.

Their first two years together was fantastic, and she was madly in love with him. But in their third year together everything changed. Mark started to be cold, he became verbally abusive to her. It was so bad to the point she started to believe his words. Making her feel worthless. They had lots of heated bad arguments. One time out of anger he almost raped her. He didn't succeed because someone knocked on his apartment door.

They continued this terrible relationship.

Christine even though she was unhappy she still loved him and tried to make it work. But nothing was good enough for Mark and he still continued to treat her like garbage.

One day he told her that he had been seeing someone new for a while now and that he wanted to start a serious relationship with that woman. He ends the relationship with Christine.

The fact that he was cheating behind her back, that he ended it first and moved on with someone else like she was nothing.

That broke her.

• From Picrew •

There will be Flashbacks of this topic in Love Planted a Rose, and the asshole Ex will make his appearance in Maniac.

Love Planted a Rose, Masterpost.

Admin Note:

If you read up here, thank you! I did try to not make this extremely long.

If you decide to read her story with Azusa, you will get to know Christine's personality even more. And of course, you will see her relationship with Azusa bloom. 💗🔪🌹

I do plan soon to open my Ask box again and maybe to do some Interactions with other Ocs.

I don't do Rps here on Tumblr. Only on Discord. If you want to Rp with Christine, just send me a DM and we can plan.

Christine Aesthetics.

~ Flower Crown ~ Angel ~ Flowers ~

~ Lavender Haze ~ ~Christmas 2023 ~

~ Reading Azusa’s Love Letter

[smolcinnamonchipmunk]

To Catch a Grasshopper

(I wholeheartedly blame @a-weird-tiny for this. I showed them Hopper, and she immediately said that she wanted Borrower!Hopper to get in a cat and mouse chase with Miguel for acting like a nuisance (my words)/brat (her words), and she gave me a line that kickstarted this whole thing. Might draw something for it at some point because I now have a new brainrot. 

There are now five men in my brain jostling for attention, and it’s getting rowdy. Also, sorry if anything seems OOC for Miguel, I only know what the movie provides which is a grouchy, broody man, though I think I wrote him softer than anything else the fandom has right now. All I know is ‘angry latino/a’ is a stereotype I’m very tired of being taken to the extreme considering I’m Hispanic and, like, being angry isn’t his only personality trait.)

Count: 5758

TW/CW: Soft, safe G/t vore, a bit of fearplay/worry of being killed "You're pouting again."

"I am not," came the gruff answer. Just like they expected from their current companion as Hopper settled on the edge of the console desktop, crossing one leg over the other and using their knee to rest their elbow and perch their chin in hand. Purple faded in their brown eyes as they smirked up at the back of the looming figure leaning over the console on the other side of the platform.

Miguel O’Hara let out a heavy sigh that was more akin to a growl, a rather common greeting he gave them whenever they popped up during work. Then again, they didn’t know where he lived outside of this place, so showing up at his work was the only way they knew to see him without being creepy. 

His shoulders slumped slightly with the exhale, muttering something under his breath - likely to brace himself for tolerating their presence - before turning around to look at them. Orange from the console screens around the platform pronounced his facial features, glinting off of his red irises and spidersuit. Which was already glowing in the red parts, so the whole platform was a delight of warm colored neon. 

Hopper would have preferred they were cooler colors. The Spiders had blue in their motif, why not use that?

They were still pretty impressed when his eyes almost immediately fell on their sitting form at the edge of the desk. He was a very large man by normal standards, towering over most humans with ease, but he was absolutely massive compared to their diminutive height of three inches. Still, superhuman senses enabled him to easily pinpoint their position. He might not have been brooding, but he had a very naturally tired and brood-y face.

“I’m assuming it’s too much to ask you to leave me alone for the day,” Miguel said tiredly. Already his voice was laced with stress and general grouchiness, but they couldn’t really remember a time he’d greeted them with a wide smile. It wasn’t really his style. Small smiles, occasionally.

To be fair, he was probably the one Spider they liked annoying the most. It was easier than most of the other Spiders, but he also dealt with a whole society of wise-cracking chatterboxes, so he also had a surprising amount of patience with them.

“You assume correctly,” Hopper chirped proudly from their spot, asymmetrical earrings dangling from their proclamation. One was a blue-gemmed planet in a golden hoop, the other a gold star with a blue gem center on a piece of gold chain that dangled it down to their chin. With a mischievous look, their eyes flickered purple and their form wavered with purple sparks, feeling a warm pins-and-needles kind of feeling running through their body. In a blink, they went from sitting at the edge of the console desktop to flickering into existence atop one of the monitors closer to the man, legs and hands on top as they dangled the rest of their body upside down to look at him. 

His gaze quickly followed the brief purple flash of their appearance.

“I can’t just leave my very best Spider friend alone with his brooding thoughts,” they added playfully sweetly, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of blood rushing to their head. “Besides, I’ve been gone a week. Can’t say I didn’t give you a break.”

“If only it was longer,” the Spider grumbled, turning away with a proper growl this time. He began to work on the screen he had previously been using, fingers sliding across the orange glow.

“Aw, c’mon,” Hopper said, teleporting to stand on the top of the monitor being used. Almost immediately, Miguel made a lazy attempt to snatch at them, making them teleport to the screen right next to it. This time, they appeared with their hands on their hips with their eyes narrowed at him. 

He’d found out pretty quickly when they first met that, frustratingly enough for him, they could teleport too quick to be grabbed. Which was good for them because they had time to iterate that they were VERY fragilè. No superhuman strength or durability to be had here, AND they were tiny in comparison. One overzealous grab could probably kill them.

“And I DON’T brood,” Miguel added with a light glower before lowering the hand that went to grab them back to the screen he was focusing on. His eyes followed suit, trying to return his focus to his previous work.

“I think a bunch of Spiders and I would disagree.”

This close, they could see a small quirk at the corner of his lip as he replied, “Just because you and a few other Spidermen think I brood doesn’t mean you’re right.”

Hopper stood waiting for him to continue, but he didn’t elaborate or tack anything on, making them groan a bit in irritation. They teleported back onto the monitor he was using and he didn’t move to snap at them or grab them again. He seemed rather intent on ignoring them. With a huff, they spread their arms out and said, “C’mon, man. I dimension-hopped here. OBVIOUSLY. I don’t wanna go home and basically tire myself out for nothing!"

"Then go bother someone else to pass the time, I’m busy."

They frowned at the rather reasonable response, defiantly declaring, "I don't want to. And when AREN’T you busy?"

They felt a bit of satisfaction as he closed his eyes for a second and frowned. They thought he had anger issues. He did, maybe, but they definitely didn't help. But, if they left him alone, he would just stand here, brood, and bury himself in his missions and self-appointed job. He was a chill guy but they worried about him self-destructing sometimes in his work, even if their version of worrying and action was trying to get under his skin to distract him from everything else. 

That, and Hopper - despite enjoying the sense of humor and more upbeat nature of the other spiders - found them to be easily overwhelming and loud in their own ways, so they felt like they'd be drained quickly. One on one was fine depending on the Spider, but this was literally a SPIDER HUB. The chances of finding many Spiders on their own was slim, and slimmer still was finding a Spider they liked or gathering the nerves to introduce themself to an unfamiliar Spider. Jess was fun, but she was usually out as well, either on mission or home. All the Spiders came and went.

Except Miguel, sometimes. Maybe he lives here, they didn’t know.

He wasn't exactly the friendliest, or most fun-loving, and he was fucking TERRIFYING when he yelled or got too stressed (they teleported out of the room the few times he'd snapped at them), but he was here the most often, was usually pretty quiet, and was alone with manager-y kind of stuff, except like a weird Spider crime department that specialized in dimensional stuff.

"Have you talked to the Therapist Spider yet," Hopper asked without any snark or provocative inflection, sitting down and absentmindedly kicking their feet lightly. Their legs probably barely blocked any of the screen, but it was enough to draw his attention when he opened his eyes once more.

"No, and I don't need to. You're worse than LYLA about asking that."

"Well, I still say you should go talk to him. Just once, at least! Everyone needs therapy, you Spiders especially. Or, I don't know, get a hobby," they suggested, not for the first time. They knew that LYLA made similar comments, but Miguel wasn't in charge of Hopper.

They shifted so that they laid on top of the monitor, raising their wrist above them to watch their bracelet beads sway slightly and glint in the orange light. It wasn't very comfortable since the monitors were pretty thin, but they didn't care too much. They huffed and added, "You're going to make yourself insane by just doing this all day. I'm bored to tears just watching."

"Then go home," Miguel suggested back. “Besides, I’m too busy for hobbies. Or, small annoyances trying to distract me from, again, working.”

Alarmingly, the monitor they were laying on and the one he was using was suddenly jerked to the side, causing them to jolt off the side with a panicked yelp. Instinctively their body kickstarted a teleport, body flickering purple before they appeared at the console desktop. Their instincts made them materialize upside-down, using the momentum from their fall to 'fall' upwards into a standing position that had them flailing their arms for a second to avoid falling on their back anyways. They stood there frozen for a second from the brief fright, looking up to see Miguel chuckle a bit as he fixed the monitor back in place and continued.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER," they hissed as they teleported back up to the top of the monitor, but there was a smile playing at the corners of their lips. "Not fair that you can just knock me off my perch! I'm wasting my Hops here, man."

"Not fair that you can teleport yourself unilaterally transdimensionally and transspacially out of reach and consequences while you sit there and distract me from my work," he replied. He still seemed stressed and grouchy, but there was the barest of difference from before, the slightest amount of loosening up. “Now, cállate.”

"First of all, they're not transdimensional or whatever transports, they're HOPS," Hopper stressed the rather simple word compared to his complicating ones, resettling on top of the monitor as they ignored him telling them to be quiet. This time they didn't lay down, just sitting up and keeping an eye on his hands in case he wanted to be a funny guy again. "And secondly, you're ALWAYS working. It's not healthy, you know."

They were one to talk considering their horrid life habits, but Miguel didn't need to know about any of that.

"If I don't keep charge, who will," Miguel scoffed a little, though they knew he had no ill will towards the other Spiders. He just wanted to take the brunt of everything for everyone.

Hopper realized this was one of the few times his wristwatch-machine-thing wasn't going off every minute or so, but glancing down at the screen showed that he was still monitoring and directing Spider traffic and tasks with nimble fingers.

"What about Jess? Or the black and white monochrome Spider? He seems broody and serious enough for it," they suggested, looking back up at him. His gaze didn't waver from the monitor. "Just for, like, five minutes. C'mon, we go get some tea, or I'm guessing some form of Monster energy in your case since I've never seen you sleep. What’s a monster to a Spider? Praying Mantis?"

"That's a negative, I don't brood, and I’m questioning whether or not you’re a Spider-person with how much you talk my ear off," he said, flicking through pieces of programming that was cleverly styled around this whole webbing deal the Spiders had.

"Sure ya don't," they said dismissively, ignoring most of his statement and starting to develop an idea. A probably very horrible idea that would almost definitely make him irritated at least and furious at worse. But, he was a good guy, even if his attitude suggested otherwise sometimes. They trusted him to not hurt them. "It's just five minutes. Anyways, any big quantum whatsits right now? Influxes? Anomalies? Anomalies. Big Spider Emergency stuff."

Miguel looked surprised at their question since they usually tried to take his mind OFF of his work, not ask about it unless it was after he went out himself. He thought for a second, probably wondering their reason for asking, before he replied, "We had a couple incidents this morning, but they were taken care of pretty quickly. The timelines seem stable for now, but it could change any moment."

"How long?"

"Huh?" The Spider quirked a confused eyebrow at them.

“How long have they been stable?” Hopper clarified, watching the confusion dissipate from Miguel’s face as they did so. While he thought, they teleported to the surface of the console desktop, waiting patiently for the moment or so it took for him to answer.

“Few hours, maybe. It’s always calmer after an influx. Why?” he asked, following them to their spot on the desk with curiosity and suspicion.

“Because-,” a mischievous smile spread across their face as they casually walked over to where his Goober-Gizmo-Computer-Key thing was halfway stuck out of the console. As they placed a hand on it they saw his eyes widen slightly as he realized what they were doing. A flash of red-blue came towards them as he quickly went to grab them, but they already flickered out of reach, computer key and all. They appeared on the console at the other end of the platform while he whirled around to see where they went, leaning a little on the little device-thing that was two-thirds their height. They opened their mouth to continue but he lunged towards them.

“Hopper!” Miguel snapped as they teleported out of reach back to the other side, spinning back to face them with a scowl. His tone was warning like someone prepared to scold a pet or child. “Drop it.”

“Iiif you’ll let me finish,” Hopper replied, feigning disinterest by looking at their nails. They heard him sigh heavily, seeing him cross his arms over his chest in their peripherals.

“Alright, fine. Finish.” he said gruffly.

“Thank you,” they chirped, perking up and looking back up at the man, keeping at least one hand on the key at all times. Clearing their throat, they started again. “Anyways. BECAUSE. If things are settled right now, then that totally means you can take a five minute break with me.”

“No can do,” Miguel quickly cut them off, shifting to hold out his hand palm up rather than attempt to grab them again. “Give the Goober back, Hopper.”

“Only if you take five minutes to just chill. You’ve still got your wristwatch that the others can contact if something happens and all of you guys are capable of handling yourselves, even if some of the Spiders are goofy as hell,” Hopper hummed, watching his frown deepen at their blatant refusal to comply. Teleporting to the edge of the platform, they added, “Or, you know, I guess we could spend five minutes with me playing Keep Away. Just make sure you put a timer on. I feel like you’ll die if you have even one second of rest or fun more than that.” “Haha. Funny,” he laughed sarcastically, though his expression looked far from amused right now. With a grumble, he turned and paced a little on the platform, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering under his breath. After a few seconds of Hopper waiting patiently, he stopped. He looked almost surprised at a sudden thought, turning to look at them. "If I indulge you in your little game of Keep Away, you'll be satisfied giving the Goober back and not causing trouble?"

"Just call it a computer key. And, cross my heart and hope to die. Though, you know, kind of don't want that to happen," Hopper made the X over their heart, feeling a sense of elation at having him even actually consider their proposition. They did wonder why he'd choose a game rather than just relaxing.

"Don't worry. You won't," Miguel replied, rolling his neck and shoulders. Suddenly, Hopper didn't feel very confident in their decisions for the day.

"Oh, uh, are we, like, starting now," they asked dumbly, having not really expected him to accept any of this. They didn't really think this far ahead.

"You're the one that suggested this. Though, if you want, I can give you a second to get ready since I’m not going easy on you, kid.”

Ignoring the fact that he called them ‘kid’ despite them being a full-grown adult, they felt a little better at the thought of being able to collect and prepare themself mentally, saying, “I’d appreciate that very much, thank you.”

“Alright,” Miguel nodded amicably and looked off to the side. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked like he was going to wait patiently. That lasted maybe a moment before his head whipped back towards them with narrowed eyes that glinted with his own slight mischievousness. “One.”

Hopper wasn’t even given a moment to process the brief confusion, eyes widening as the man lunged towards their spot at the edge of the platform with outstretched hands. With a yelp, their body quickly moved into a teleport, barely remembering to keep holding onto the computer key and spread the teleportation to it. Back on top of the console desktop, they took a second to register what happened, Miguel standing up from where they had been standing. Despite literally asking for this whole game, they couldn’t help but exclaim, “What the fuck, Miguel?!”

“What?” he asked, straightening up. His face was now covered by his mask, but his voice had a tinge of amusement to it as he looked back at them. He lunged towards them again, forcing them to teleport to a monitor with another yelp. “I asked if you wanted a second, I gave you a second.” “Oh, NOW you’re a funny guy like the rest of the Spiders?” Hopper asked, smiling now that the initial shock was over. They could feel a bit of giddiness from adrenaline. They laughed and teleported off the platform to the metal arm thing in the room below when he made to grab them again. They shifted their grip on the computer key, looping their arm through the metal ring on top to lessen the chance of losing it as they shouted up, “Does that mean you’re not brooding for five minutes?”

“I like that you think it’ll take that long to catch you,” Miguel replied, leaping off the platform and using a laser-web to pull himself towards them with his claws out. “I like that you think you CAN catch me,” Hopper laughed, teleporting to the ground and then further down the hall when he pounced towards their position almost immediately. “Didn’t we establish pretty early on that I’ll just teleport away even if you manage to touch me?”

“Call it a hunch that I think this time’ll be different.” “I’d ask if it was Spider-sense, but you don’t have that so I’m just gonna say it’s your massive ego that makes you think that,” they continued to teleport around the hall and equipment, having to move quickly because they were barely given a second of reprieve before there was a flash of blue-red in the corner of their vision that had them whisking away out of reach. They felt a slight ache in their chest from teleporting so quickly around, but they ignored it in favor of trying a larger jump to the end of the hall to try and catch their breath for a second.

After all, they were basically compressing their entire body and molecules - and the computer key’s - out of physical existence and back in. They were essentially holding their breath and stopping their heart for brief moments of time, and their body was currently not liking it happening so much.

“I think your hubris is going to be your downfall,” Miguel shouted, seeing them at the end of the hall. This far away, they were given a few seconds to see how terrifying it was to actually be in place of a pseudo-villain, seeing his claws gouge into the metal ground like it was paper and him literally claw and pounce towards them. They were definitely realizing why the fuck he was so buff compared to some of the other Spiders. A laser-web shot towards them and they were gone again.

“I think my hubris is likely to kill me, yes,” Hopper maintained their air of nonchalance, far too into this game to let a bit of tiredness or any aching distract them. When was the last time they played a game? Or basically played tag? When was Miguel’s? Popping up on a structure higher on a wall between some equipment. They thought they were getting closer to the Anomaly room. If they could get in one of the cages, he’d have to talk to LYLA, who they hoped would side with them.

Teleporting away from his claws again, they added, “I don’t think your name is Hubris though, so I think I’m good either way.”

“Maybe I’ll get a name change then,” he said. When they popped back on the ground with the intent to go to the Anomaly room, he overshot and dropped down right in front of them, making them yelp and teleport backward at how close he’d landed. He was starting to try and predict their movements, and unnervingly well. 

As they teleported again away, he shouted after them, “And stop teleporting away-” another unsuccessful pounce to them, “- or hopping around like a-a-,” he struck a wall as he rounded a corner and tried to laser-web them again, “- a GRASSHOPPER or something!” “I’m not-not a grasshopper.” Hopper replied, mildly offended at the nickname and struggling to not pant as they teleported onto another shelf of equipment. They weren’t sure if he heard the way their voice kind of wavered tiredly but he didn’t let up regardless. They were unused to the strain in their chest, finding it more difficult to ignore as time went on. “Tell you what,” Miguel didn’t sound winded at all as he lunged again, though he was used to actual fieldwork like the rest of the Spiders while Hopper hadn’t really tried to test their teleportation limits. “You give me back the Goober, I don’t call you a grasshopper.” “No dice,” they teleported to the other end of a different hall, hoping to double-back on him without him predicting it. They huffed a bit quietly, trying to take in a full breath against the stitch developing in their side. “You’ll just take it and keep calling me grasshopper. But that’s fine anyways because it doesn’t bother me.”

It did, it really did, but they couldn’t let him know that because it would only encourage it.

“Fair assessment, but wrong. Now I just get to call you a grasshopper, which fits because you KEEP EVADING ME,” he growled as he landed where they had been standing. “Quédate quieto, you nuisance!”

They teleported on top of a light fixture to look down at him, ignoring the fact that everytime he landed it was with enough force to DENT the ground. Instead, they ignored the way their heart raced and panting breaths, asking, “Have you ever tried catching a grasshopper?”

“I’m trying right now!”

“Haha, funny,” they teleported away again, closing their eyes against a twinge of pain in their chest, for a moment, having to teleport again to avoid red-glowing claws with a panicked yelp. Was it just them or was that teleport a little delayed? “I meant ACTUAL grasshoppers. They’re pretty easy to catch once you know what to do. Like a cup or something.”

Hopper worriedly began to realize that their breathing was becoming more labored as well, pauses between sentences increasing noticeably. There was no way he didn’t notice that, at least.

“Really? Thanks for the tip.” Miguel said, eliciting another exclamation as they were forced to teleport away again.

They didn’t say anything in response to the Spider, their attention turning strictly to avoiding having the entire weight of the man come crashing on top of them, avoiding claws that still dug into the metal terrifyingly close to them and trying to speed up their teleporting back to normal standard as they felt themself begin to falter while the pain and ache in their chest increased. With a laborious huff, they teleported across the room again, starting to feel like they were physically and bodily chucking themself and the computer key around.

“What’s wrong, Hopper?” the Spider still didn’t relent in the chase, pouncing and barely missing them once more as he taunted them. “You’ve gone quiet. Almost like you’re getting tired. We can stop whenever, you just gotta drop the Goober.”

“FUCK YOU,” Hopper snapped on instincts, letting out a heavy pant when they popped back up before teleporting away again at the sight of more claws. They felt stubbornness fueled by spite, forcing themself to continue. “I’m not-not tired, a-asshole! Maybe I don’t feel like talking!”

“You? Not feeling like talking?” Miguel asked, laughing as he swung from a web to where they attempted to take refuge on some kind of equipment that flashed and hummed like many of the items in the Spider-Hub. He landed lightly as they disappeared again. “That’s more improbable than space-time just fixing itself on its own.”

“It-It happens,” they protested defensively, not wanting to admit that they were being worn down as they wavered back into existence with the computer key. Seeing him immediately face them, again, they teleported back towards his platform room, wondering if they could seek refuge in a dark corner or something. They doubted it, but maybe. But, as they flickered out in their teleport it felt sluggish and painful, barely managing to wrench their molecules away.

Hopper reappeared on the floor beside the wall, not quite where they wanted, and had to gasp for a second past the pain before forcing themself to teleport again. This time, when they reappeared, their vision remained staticky for a second before it cleared enough to allow them a pretty good view of Miguel coming towards them a Mach 5 with a claw outstretched. 

They couldn’t help but exclaim in panic, trying to teleport out of the way. But, the only thing they managed was a painful purple staticky-glitchy effect that brought to mind the Anomalies that the Spiders were catching, a flash of white-hot pain traveling through their chest briefly. 

This was it, they thought, I’m about to fucking die because I really fucked around and found out, huh?

They couldn’t make themself look away, staring at their imminent death with paralyzing fear, watching the red claws draw closer both in an instant and horrifyingly slowly as their mind took in everything. The claws sunk into the metal around them and they didn’t even realize that they WEREN’T being crushed until Miguel spoke up in the same instant the claws caged around them..

“Te pillé!” he proclaimed triumphantly, barely letting out a huff from the entire chase. The eye-shapes on his mask widened from the focused narrowed eye-shapes to normal. It was still weird how expressive all the masks were. “You good, kid?” Hopper didn’t say anything at first, still wondering how the hell they were even alive. They blinked in surprise, their heart racing in their chest and breath laborious and shallow as they VERY slowly realized they weren’t in danger and began to calm. They noticed belatedly that they had a good inch and a half between their chest and the surface of his palm, not exactly in danger but still far too close for comfort after seeing him barreling towards them.

“I-I’m good,” they answered stiffly, voice cracking a bit from the scare. They took a steadying breath, wincing as it worsened the painful stitches in their sides, but they were fine overall. Just exhausted, a bit adrenaline-filled, and feeling aches already begin to settle.

“Good. I’ll take that then,” Miguel said, pulling his claws out from the metal wall and floor, carefully plucking them off the floor by the back of their jacket in his claws - making them yelp out in protest - and separating them from the computer key. He closed his fingers around the computer key deftly. They noticed the way his claws retreated into the tips of his fingers as he added nonchalantly, “You were right.”

“Huh?” Hopper frowned in confusion, more concerned with the fading ache in their chest. Looking at the eyeshapes of his mask, they asked tiredly, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You said it’d be pretty easy to catch a grasshopper when I knew what to do,” he replied, mask dissipating to allow them to see his small smug expression, making them scowl immediately. “And it was. You were so sure of yourself, too.”

“I meant ACTUAL GRASSHOPPERS, and you DON’T NEED TO RUB IT IN,” they huffed, still panting a little.

“Yes, well, now you’re just a little grasshopper who can’t hop around anymore,” Miguel said. He lifted them up higher, which they didn’t really care about until he opened his jaws and began to move them closer to fangs that were as long as their forearms.

“WOAH, wait, what the FUCK?!” Hopper exclaimed in surprised panic, purple crackling along their limbs unsuccessfully. 

Miguel only quirked an eyebrow slightly, saying, “Don’t worry, kid, you’ll be fine.” with the feeling that he knew they definitely wouldn’t believe him if he tried to elaborate. Which was true, but it was still kind of terrifying when they were placed into his mouth and let go despite their protests.

“MIGUEL, THIS DOESN’T FEEL FINE,” Hopper shouted when the teeth clicked behind them, yelping when the tongue shifted up against them. Adrenaline ran through their veins, causing their chest to ache again as they tried to instinctively teleport ANYWHERE else, but the light from the crackling of unsuccessful teleporting only gave them a very sharp and vivid look at the inside of the jaws around them like the teeth surrounding them. Or the pit of darkness in the back where his throat definitely was. They yelped - squeaked, but they’d never admit it - as the tongue moved them around and they felt saliva soak their clothes. “MIGUEL!”

Seconds felt like forever as their body took in their surroundings, the heat and humidity all around them, the sound of his breathing, the constant shifting of his tongue as it easily moved them around and licked at them anywhere it could touch, making them yelp in indignation when it poked their side and caused them to involuntarily jolt. They shoved against it in fearful irritation, exclaiming, “PINCHE PENDEJO, LET ME OUT!”

They only knew some insults in Spanish despite having spent years with a Spanish class and their reward was a rumbling chuckle from the man as he continued to lick at them. It was probably only a couple seconds before they found themself starting to be nudged back to the back of his mouth, trying to brace their legs against the roof of his mouth. Rather unsuccessfully.

Now it was their turn to let out a warning tone, going, “Miguel, don’t you fucking DARE swallow me!” as they panicked. They couldn’t help but feel a sense of betrayal, thinking that he was probably one of the more trustworthy people out there and now he was EATING them.

Miguel still didn’t respond, either because they were still in his mouth or he didn’t care to bother, and they found themself squished between the roof of his mouth and his tongue directly before the sound of a gulp overwhelmed their ears. In a split second, they found themself sucked down into his throat, exclaiming protests and trying to squirm away from the constricting walls all around them while their surroundings were briefly lit up every couple seconds by panicked purple light from failed teleporting.

The sound of his heart pounded in their ears along with the small exhale that he let out after swallowing, both breathing and heartbeat the only thing they could hear over the ambient sound of organs shifting in his body. Hopper didn’t realize how fucking loud bodies were.

Seconds ticked by rapidly before they spilled into a more open space, the only thing they could guess as the stomach. Despite their exhaustion, they couldn’t help but try and jump to their feet, immediately slipping and falling over on their back given the moving EVERYTHING and saliva coating it all.

“MIGUEL, LET ME OUT,” Hopper shouted again, feeling their throat start to hurt from all their panicked screaming. But, if they didn’t hold onto their anger, they’d probably just feel distress and fear, and that was so much worse. They yelped when everything got tighter, pressure from one side of the organ as they squirmed in confusion and more instinctive worry. After a second, they realized that he was probably pressing in from the outside to try and make them still.

“Cálmate, cálmate,” Miguel said, voice a bit softer. Whether he was trying to not overwhelm them further or he was trying to actually calm them felt up for debate considering their position. He still sounded far more casual than the situation called for as he added, “You’re gonna be fine, Hopper, it’s just temporary containment. Although, I wasn’t expecting you to have quite as much kick in you after being chased around.” “Temporary containment?! Temporary til what, my death?!” Hopper snapped, trying in vain to shove his hand and the stomach wall away before realizing the full extent of what he said. “Hey, wait a minute! What do you mean by ‘expecting’? How long have you been planning on eating me?!”

“Seriously? Only today, though the thought has crossed my mind a few times since meeting you,” he admitted, only sounded a LITTLE awkward about the admittance. “WHY?!”

“For one, stop squirming. I’ve told you you’re fine,” Miguel huffed, pressing a little harder but stopped when they yelped and stilled. His hand pulled away, allowing them to slip to the bottom of the organ with a yelp and fresh coating of drool from the small puddle at the bottom. “Secondly, having a small person run around on your desk while having spider DNA will lead to some odd thoughts like potentially eating them.”

“Okay, but again, WHY,” Hopper repeated, still confused as to why he’d give in to what they interpreted as a VERY WEIRD INTRUSIVE THOUGHT.

“Because it’s perfectly safe and I’ll know exactly where you are until you’re either able to teleport again or, let’s see… Let’s say an hour and a half or whenever your powers come back, whichever happens first.” 

Hopper’s jaw dropped, realizing why he’d picked the game rather than just five minutes of tea, offended as they asked, “DID YOU JUST FUCKING PUT ME IN TIME OUT?!”

“Don’t take my Goober again unless you want a repeat, Grasshopper.”

[qodlysinz]

Petty Arguments

Vox X Valentino - Hazbin Hotel

CW: None really, just the silly little goobers, a shit ton of cursing but its hazbin so its wtv, Valentino

Tags: slight angst??? maybe??? I rarely work w angst, Velvette is sick of their shit, mentions of sex

A/N: soo uhhh I’m hispanic BUT I don’t speak spanish, so Val’s spanish might be super shitty but I’d appreciate help for it 😭😭😭 also NOT proofread. This was inspired by this post on twitter

Vox and Valentino had their squabbles. Everyone did. They were in Hell, no one was perfect, and certainly these two weren’t.

Velvette seemed to be growing annoyed with the tense atmosphere after their most recent little fight. It was over another one of Val’s whores—Angel Dust.

That stupid little spider always seemed to be the head of their arguments. Even after he moved out he was a little virus in Vox’s program. He hated how Valentino always had something for Angel Dust. He always talked about him like he’d croak and fall dead from not talking about him for at least thirty minutes.

Vox gritted his teeth in frustration—sure, he had his own obsession, the Radio Demon. He wasn’t afraid to admit it, either. He knew it was unhealthy, but damn it! That fucking bastard deserved Vox’s hatred! Everyone Vox hated was within good reason. And when Vox holds a grudge, he holds it forever.

Val entered Vox’s office, his signature pink smoke enveloping the room. Vox normally found this scent reassuring, knowing that the Precioso Valentino was by his side. But the smell only made him even more irritated. Was he going to mention that stupid fucking spider again? At how much better he was? Just to rile Vox up again?! God, even when gone that twink had Vox pissed off. The mere mention of his name made him want to smash computers, and not in the fun way.

Vox glanced at Val from the corner of his eye, spinning in his chair. “What can I help you with now, Valentino?” Did the mention of his full name give Val the impression he was angry? He hoped so. Vox was not good at communicating. “Why so tense, Vox? Are you still pissed about what I said last night?” He sighed, arms crossed and expecting something—likely an apology—as if he hadn’t been the one to break their silence and come into Vox’s office.

Vox didn’t grace Val with a response, only a contemptuous scoff and a sassy eye roll. That’d get the point across, surely. Val hummed, walking over as if he were one of Velvette’s models. “I’m not going to apologize, so you best do it if you want things to go back to normal.” He sharply said, eyes narrowed. He was probably squinting to see Vox from how shitty his eyesight was.

The TV demon scowled, breaking their eye contact and turning back to his screens. “Forget about Angel Dust, and we have an agreement.” Vox snapped back, not even bothering to look at Valentino. The moth let out an abrasive scoff like Vox had called him a heinous slur. “¡Maldito imbécil!” Val shouted at him, “you know that slippery fuck is my best star, I can’t just give him away!” He smacked his fist to the desk, shaking the screens. Vox quickly got to his feet, glaring at him.

“He’s not some lost dog you found, Valentino! He’s just some other whore you employed, so just forget that motherfucker!” Vox argued back, he was going to try and add more points to his case, but Valentino had pressed on his screen, muting his voice. “Maybe it’s time you shut the fuck up for once.” Val huffed, stomping off. Vox was quiet, by choice, and stared after Val. His jaw slack and eyes wide. Valentino had never spoke to him so coldly—not in their hundreds of arguments over the years. He was hardheaded and brash, so that meant he was fucking pissed.

Vox swallowed, turning his volume back up. “Fucker.” He muttered to himself.

Val paced around his room, ranting to Velvette in anger, mixing in some fast-spoken Spanish Velvette couldn’t decipher. She sighed, trying to sigh over him to get him to notice how annoyed she was, he didn’t care and continued to complain.

“Can you believe that fucker said that?! ¡Ese estúpido imbécil sabe lo duro que trabajo!” Val yelled, grabbing at his antenna in frustration and throwing his guns and glasses of alcohol at the walls. Velvette groaned, “shut up!” She yelled over him, silencing the incredibly tall moth. He stared at her, now glaring. “Excuse me?”

“You two fuckheads are insufferable! One minute you’re literally sucking each other off on the couch, and the next you’re at each other’s throats! It’s pathetic. I’m the middleman, and it’s completely ridiculous!” She rubbed her temples, sighing loudly. “Ever since you got that lanky prick Angel Dust you’ve been talking about him like he’s the Queen of England.”

“The who?”

She ignored him, “we get it, you like how much money he makes you and how fun it is to torture the lad. But sometimes it’s annoying. And by sometimes, I mean all the goddamn time!” She continued. “And you muted him?! You know how he gets when he’s being overshadowed! Just kiss and makeup so I don’t break out from all this stupid fucking stress! Negativity is bad for my skin.” Velvette huffed, slamming the door as she left.

Val sighed, she did have a point. But he’d rather be caught in a polyester suit off the rack than admit his faults. He sat down, groaning loudly as he mumbled curses in Spanish before looking around his room in search of the cameras, but unable to fully see them. “Vox!” He shouted, “come here!”

Reluctantly, the TV demon transported himself via camera, standing before Valentino with his hands folded behind his back. On his screen read: ‘what do you want now?’

How mature.

Val scoffed, crossing his lower arms with his upper arms on his hips. “Come on, Vox, just talk.” He demanded, “I need to hear your voice.” He said it so quietly Vox almost asked him to repeat himself.

“What now, Valentino? Are you going to mute me again and go fuck Angel Dust?” He rolled his eyes, walking over to the window. Val grumbled, following him. “No. That idiota went back to the stupid hotel.” He huffed out irritably. Vox visibly brightened, giving his full attention to Valentino. “What is it, Val?” He spoke gently.

Val was quiet for a moment before speaking up. “Velvette helped me realize… that I was being unreasonable and unfair.” He murmured, Vox was surprised that Val had admitted to his own faults, straightening up as he smiled softly. “Did she now?” He tilted his head, Val nodded, leaning down to Vox’s height. “I’m…” he shuddered, “…sorry…”

Vox hummed, adjusting his tie. “Well. I didn’t ever expect to hear that from you of all Sinners, Val. Are you sure you’re the same person?” He asked lightly, looking very amused. Val rolled his eyes, “very funny.” He sarcastically quipped, “I promise to stop bringing up Angel Dust if you stop bringing up Alastor.” He propped his hands on his hips, inching closer to his face. Vox sighed, “very well. It’s a promise. We won’t bring up—them… from now on.”

“Hm. Good.” Val enveloped the smaller Vox in his arms, “this is going to happen again three days from now, isn’t it?” Vox muttered into Val’s neck fluff, grimacing. “It keeps us on our toes!” Val grinned wickedly as he kissed Vox passionately. “Don’t you think?”

Vox blinked, slowly nodding. “Mm-hmm,” he dizzily mumbled, a day without Valentino affection was like a day without drugs, almost like he needed Val to survive or he’d seize. Val laughed cheekily, “Kitty, lock the doors!” He ordered the robot as it quickly zipped away per order.

[kaimaciel]

Portbra still mad at each other from the independence and the good old one bed prompt 👀

They stood in front of the bed with equally furious expressions on their faces. It was bad enough they had been placed as Hispanic on the hotel list, but also thought to be 1 person and, therefore, only given 1 bed.

Luciano glanced at Afonso, who didn't say a word to him the entire day, and flung himself to the bed.

"Mine!" the younger man said, grinning.

"And where am I suppose to sleep?"

"On the floor like any dog!"

Afonso's nostrils flared and he simply grabbed Luciano's legs and pushed him to the side before lying down next to him.

"Ei! Who told you could sleep here?"

"I did. Now shut up and sleep."

"I would rather die than sleep next you, old fart!"

"Too bad. What doesn't kill you simply disappoints me."

Luciano tried pushing Afonso off the bed, but the older man grabbed the bed and refused to move, so Luciano grabbed his arms and pinned him to the bed, staring with a victorious grin at Afonso's frowning face while holding his arms above his head.

"Sucks to be the weak one, doesn't it?"

Afonso said nothing, just stared at him with angry, green eyes.

"Maybe you ask me nicely, I'll let you go. What do you say, Afonso? Say that you lost. Say that you are weak and I am better than you!"

With this something crossed Afonso's eyes and before Luciano could react, Afonso raised his head and bit his neck.

"Fuck!!!"

Afonso didn't let go, his teeth buried on Luciano's flesh, his hair as wild as his eyes. But still, Luciano didn't let go of his arms.

"You're an animal," Luciano said, feeling Afonso breath against his neck. "Rome was right about you."

With this, Afonso wrapped his legs around Luciano's hip and pulled him down against him on the bed.

Neither let go as the moon shone from the window.

[tetrakys]

hey, its the anon from before. unfortunately because of that policy most of the most popular gameplays were deleted, but you can probably find clips online if you look for them, and you can instantly see how much these people genuinely were passionate and had fun with the game.

the channels i remember were reah (she was my favourite back then, armin route and she was SO funny lmao), lilicross, lyna, natsukisel mostly if you want to find them. more recently i found helemlove, since she still has her UL, spinoff, and an unfinished HSL gameplay with her then boyfriend up. this one is the one that brought me back to the fandom lol, they live-dubbed the episodes as they played them, and they were both talented, hilarious, and offered genuinely insightful commentary. her boyfriend was also like so genuinely so passionate about the game and characters, they even made theory, prediction, analysis, and critique videos of the games together as UL eps were coming out, if you want to check those out on youtube. these are all in spanish btw.

there was the mcl tag, where the youtubers tagged their friends to do the tag and talk about their favorite images, the worst ones, the best outfits, etc.

as i said, these were the people that (at least in the hispanic part of the fandom) actually made the game known and gave it a massive part of its popularity and success back in the hsl days. it genuinely breaks my heart that such an awesome and passionate community was just destroyed like it was nothing, to the point that just remembering what happened honestly makes me angry and sad :(. i definetely understand why these creators wouldn't want to come back after what beemoov did to them, but that doesn't make it any less heartbreaking lol. anyway, this was just a rant of me getting nostalgic, hope you didn't mind haha😅

I don't mind don't worry, and thank you for suggesting those names I'm going to check them out 😊

I'm sure it must’ve been very upsetting at the time seeing the whole community fade away 😔 I was a lone wolf player for many years so I never experienced the fandom at its peak and I regret it. I'm sure it was a funny time and it gave people a sense of community. Sending you a big hug 💕 and fingers crossed we can get back a little of what was lost.

[forsaire]

What's your favourite ABBA song? (141 + Los Vaqueros)

-(minus Ghost for contextual story reasons)

As the team enjoys American Thanksgiving on Laswell's base, Soap has a fun question to ask everyone. An unexpected member joins them.

Chapter 29 excerpt from Don't Let Me Go on ao3.

He began scarfing down the food – inhaling it, really. The whole room was bustling with delight and laughter. The energy was infectious and he looked around at the soldiers, taking in everyone’s communal moment of happiness. He enjoyed watching them be carefree. It wasn’t often that everyone was on the same page. Cheerful. Light. Satisfied.

Although Soap wished that a certain someone was sitting next to him to share this moment with.

“Favourite ABBA song?” Soap asked casually to make conversation, trying to keep his mood light.

Price furrowed his brow in disbelief at the question while Gaz looked like he was actually considering it. Rudy and Alejandro shared a look with each other.

“I can go first,” Soap offered. “Money, Money, Money. My mum had that CD and we used to play that song all the time. When you grow up dirt poor, it’s pretty cathartic to shout out.”

“What was the name of the song again?” Rudy quickly asked Alejandro before it dawned on him. “Sí, claro! Chiquitita. You know what is funny? I only ever heard the version recorded in Spanish. They had an entire Spanish album and everything. I had no clue that they were not Hispanic at all. I crossed the border for a…uh…”

“Like a spring break,” Alejandro finished.

“Yes! I was in a bar when I heard the English version for the first time. It confused the hell out of me. I thought someone had stolen the song.”

“And he wouldn’t shut up about it all night.”

“I was angry on behalf of a relatively unknown group of Spanish artists.”

“Turns out you weren’t.”

“I was not.”

Rudy smiled at the memory.

“Fernando,” Alejandro answered. “My great grandfather actually fought in the Mexican Revolution. The song made me think of what my family had been through. How I continue it to this day.”

“I think mine is S.O.S.,” Gaz said. “I let myself become pretty depressed while listening to that after a rough breakup in high school.”

“That’s your favourite song?” Soap questioned.

“Well, I can look back at it now. It’s catchy.”

“What about you?” Gaz asked, turning his attention to Price.

Price scowled grumpily. “I didn’t listen to that stuff. I’m more into the classics. Rock and roll.”

A sly smile spread across Gaz’s face and his eyes narrowed mischievously. “I don’t know, Captain. You seem like a Dancing Queen lover.”

“Absolutely,” Soap agreed enthusiastically.

“What are you talking abo-” Price started before being interrupted by a pair of hands slapping down on his shoulders, making him jump slightly. Soap looked up to see a familiar face standing behind Price.

“No, I agree,” Nikolai said, lowering himself beside Price’s head. “You really do give off Dancing Queen.”

Upon recognizing the thick Russian accent, Price’s grumpy face immediately transformed.

“Nik!” he called out happily with a wide smile on his face.

“Good to see you, Nik,” Soap said as Nik settled on the bench next to Price.

He was wearing his usual grey sweater and green jacket combo as well as loose, blue jeans. His widow’s peak seemed to get more defined each time Soap saw him. His aviator sunglasses were pulled up on the top of his slicked back, long, black hair. Around his neck he wore his signature gold chain which Soap wondered if he ever actually took off.

“I didn’t know you would be here,” Gaz said. “When’d you get in?”

“Just flew over,” Nik replied. “I had special invitation.” He turned around to give Laswell a small wave who was mingling amongst the tables, talking to the other soldiers. Nik turned back to the table, looking at everyone’s plate of food. “So, what is this, anyway?”

“American Thanksgiving.”

“Oh,” Nik said, sounding slightly disinterested. He reached over to Price’s plate and plucked a bread roll off of it. Rather than telling him off like he would have done had it been anyone one trying to pull that off, Price pushed his plate over so it sat between the two of them.

“What have you been up to?” Price asked.

“Oh, you know…” Nik said, his voice slightly muffled with food. “Working with Chimera in the Balkans. This and that. It’s classified.”

“Only good things, I hope.”

“Define good.”

“Nothing I wouldn’t do.”

“There’s nothing you wouldn’t do, John,” Nik said, smirking.

The two of them shared a knowing look filled with past secrets that the rest of them weren’t privy to. It was moments like these that always reminded Soap that Price had a lengthy and enigmatic past that started before some of them had even become adults.

Price’s face suddenly shifted in realization. He gestured over to the other side of the table.

“Sorry, I should introduce you guys,” he said. “This is Colonel Alejandro Vargas – leader of Los Vaqueros counter-terrorism unit – and his second in command, Sergeant Major Rudy Parra. Mexican Special Forces. Alejandro, Rudy, this is Nikolai.”

They reached over to shake Nik’s hand one after the other.

“Just Nikolai?” Alejandro questioned.

“That is what they call me.”

“Who’s they?”

Nik smirked again. “Everyone who wants to live.”

Alejandro backed off with a slow nod and a small, impressed smile on his face. Nik grabbed a bean from Price’s plate and popped it into his mouth.

“Not a single American at this table for American Thanksgiving,” Nik said, pursing his lips. “I like it.” He popped another bean into his mouth.

“I’m here to celebrate no matter what it is, as long as there’s food,” Soap said cheerfully. Nik pointed at him in agreement. “Anyway, you walked into our conversation so now I have to ask you the same question – what is your favourite ABBA song?”

Nik flicked his eyes over to Price and narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t,” Price warned.

A devilish smile spread across Nik’s face. “You mean you haven’t told them how you used to put on ABBA songs during long flights to help me learn English? If I recall, I think I enjoyed the Waterloo one, right?”

“Svoloch’” Price bit back, an amused twinkle to his eye.

“I also taught him a few things as well,” Nik said, chuckling. Nik reached over to grab more food from Price’s plate when Price pushed it all the way over.

“Just have the rest,” he said. “I’m full.”

“How kind,” Nik commented, grabbing Price’s fork.

“You know you can just grab your own plate?” Gaz said. “There’s tons of food.”

“Too late,” Nik said, already stuffing his face.

Full chapter ao3.

[arminsesposa]

Serein 1.archaic : the supposed fall of dew from a clear sky just after sunset. (Hispanic GN reader x Miles Morales 1610!)

This is my first piece of work so depending how it does I’ll make more parts :p I didn’t add much Spanish but in the other parts there will be so trust me lol. Events take place somewhat during ATSV but give me time LOL

It was an early Monday Morning as the chattering of students filled the halls.

Some students talking about the recent soccer game, or about how AP Scores come out soon. You walked along the hall with your AirPods in as your AP English Literature teacher assigned you guys a project despite the AP test being over.

You walked along the hall, as you carried what seemed like 200 pound book on Hamlet. “Me Vale verga esta clase” you muttered to yourself as your friend Sophia tagged along your side with a poptart in hand. “Maybe she’ll extend the deadline” Sophia said in a hopeful tone. “Yeah in my dreams” you scoffed as you both turned on the hallway almost a few feet from your classroom. Almost inches away, a familiar boy with messy hair and Jordan’s rushes by you, bumping into you as you dropped your book, the papers in it falling out. “No mames güey!” You cussed out a little too loud as students stare at you as you glare at the boy, who only looks back and shrugs his shoulder as an apology. Sophia helps pick up the papers as you carried your book. Again your eyebrows together in anger. “I think we have him for AP Spanish With Mrs.Campos” Sophia responded trying to look for him. “He didn’t even apologize” you said rolling your eyes as you say goodbye to her and walk into your English class.

During the boring English class you couldn’t shake off the moment he bumped into you, as you got angry. Part of you also curious why he was in a rush. You tried to think to yourself what his name was, as you probably talked to him a few times before, as it clicked. His name was Miles Morales, the student who always sleeps during the Spanish Documentaries and Always arrived 20 minutes late to class. Part of you knew that you weren’t gonna let this slide as you thought of a plan to approach him. As soon as you finished reading the damn book.

As what seemed like forever, English was over as you walked through the halls trying to look for Miles. As soon as you saw the gigantic puffer jacket you made your way to him. “Hey! You with that big ass puffer Jacket” You shouted catching his attention as Miles looked around to see if you were truly talking to him. As you finally made your way to him, you realized how much taller her was as you had to raise your head a little up to talk to him. “First of all, thanks for bumping into me and spilling all my papers” you said sarcastically as you rolled your eyes. “And you didn’t even apologize” you crossed your arms over your chest waiting for a response. Miles looked a bit embarrassed as he tried to think of an excuse.

“Sorry, I was in a rush if you didn’t notice” he responded sheepishly, hoping you wouldn’t be super upset as he apologized. “I’ll promise I’ll make it up to you… (y/n??”. He said in a somewhat confused tone hoping he got your name right. “Yeah, we have AP Spanish Together 5th period, you’re always sleeping during the Cantinflas movies” You responded with a laugh as you both chuckled. Before he could say something, he looked distracted by something behind the window you were standing as he apologized one more time. “Look I truly am sorry and didn’t mean to bump into you, but I gotta go I’ll see you soon”. He immediately said as before you could even respond he rushed off leaving you standing alone in the hall. You took a minute to process everything that happened as you just blinked before walking off to look for Sophia.

As 5th period passed, you realized you didn’t see Miles anymore as you though how he probably ditched. For some reason you found yourself worried about him as Sophia snapped in front of your face. “You okay?” She asked worryingly as you focused on your Spanish worksheet. “I’m good, just a little distracted” you responded back filling in the Spanish worksheet. “I forgot to tell you, I have softball practice so we can’t walk home together, me perdonas?” Sophia’s asked as she brought her hands together waiting for you to answer. “You’re such a dumbass sometimes, and it’s fine I’ll probably just go straight home” you said as you laughed at Sophia’s gesture.

As the school day was over, you walked out through the back of the school. The cool breeze touched your skin as you took a deep breath of the cool air. You put on your AirPods, and shuffled your liked songs as you began to walk home. You didn’t live too far from the school, but it was far. You walked by the tagged walls, the small stores, the bus stops and the fruit stands as you were close to home. You saw a bodega nearby as you walked in and greeted the cashier. You had some extra money and was thinking of buying some snacks to eat at home. As you turned to the aisle you came across a tall mysterious figure with Spots stand right in front of you.

[perchancetorecord]

01/02.07.23

There were these kids - young adults - who played D&D, LARPing etc, and were then transported into a fantasy world, where they became their characters. They both were and weren’t the actual characters, acting almost completely like them and showing no desire to return to our world, but still retaining all of the memories of their previous lives on earth.

The issue was that one of the guys was self harming, and he wanted to become his character because as the main hero/prince/fighter role, he was constantly in danger and getting beat up, inj.ured, having to sacrifice himeslf for his friends and the good of the quest etc.He looked like a cross between Arthur from BBC Merlin, and Peter from the Chronicles of Narnia

This concerning masochism was called out by his girlfriend, Euloria, who was very intelligent and serious. Her personality was juxtaposed by her playing a thief character, who wore an extremely revealing costume in bright turquoise blue.

In contrast the other girl in the party was Razelle, a witch character I’ve been workshopping on and off since I was a child. The appearance was spot on (sallow skinned, dark red hair, red/brown/black outfit with a long skirt) but her personality was usually mysterious and calm - this girl played her very mischevious and youthful. 

I distinctly remember in the dream knowing there were four of these kids, but the 4th changed between a hispanic looking, lean guy in green who was a ranger, or a very nerdy looking kid in full wizard robes which were much to large for him, and everyone acted like he was an old man even though he clearly wasnt. I believe there were other members of the party also who weren’t from our world, just characters in the story.

The story of the quest was not clear. It fuctioned like a video game. There was what looked like a field, but it was their ‘map’ and they needed to get from one side to the other. The party was being chased, and if they were caught it was game over, but if they got far enough ahead of their pursurers they could rest for a seemingly indefinite amount of time. The straightforward way across the map was through the middle, but you had to go very fast to avoid the pursuers, and the paths were teeming with peacocks and pigs. If these touched you, you died. 

They went instead up these mountains at the side of the map. It was risky as the journey would be very slow, but they were gambling on their pursuers searching for them in the centre first. This paid off and they were able to spend ages exploring the mountains just for fun. They found a little alpine village/ski resort where this jolly alpine gnomes were living, and every day was like a festival with them singing songs about beer and ringing cowbells. 

The guys convinced these travellers passing through that they had to yell ‘Hail Pim, Pim Hail!’ when going under a bridge in the town, and got in big trouble for this. The prince character took all the blame as he knew he would get beaten up for it, and this made Euloria angry with him. 

[shop-korea]

BOX VAULT - SELF STORAGE

SHARED BLDG - SAME - YES

PARKING - ACCESS - 6A/10P

24/7 - ACCESS ADD - $24.99

NO INSURANCE - $11 - YEAH

THE - WHARF - DRINKS AND

BOTTLES - HAPPY HOUR - A

BAR - NEXT 2 MIAMI - RIVER

A - LANDMARK - UGLY DEEP

DAYS - UNTIL - 3A - ALSO 1A

STARTS - 4P - ALSO - 12P SO

GREAT - MUSIC - LOUD TOO

B 4 - 10P - THE WHARF - YES

USES - OUR - PARKING - LOT

VALET - PARKING

PARKING - 'TIME - SHARING'

SW NORTH RIVER DR

CROSS - SW 2 ST

OTHER SIDE - FR - OUR BLDG

SAW - TENTS - BELONGS - TO

A COUPLE - OR - BLOND GIRL

LARGE - DOG - GIGANTIC -

PLANTERS - REAL - NICE -

NEXT - 2 - PARKING - LOT -

WHITE - SERVICE - CARS -

FLOOR - REAL NICE NOT -

REGULAR - CEMENT YES -

SIDEWALK - LIKE HOTEL -

GROUND - TILED FLOOR -

2 NIGHTS AGO - GIRL ME -

SAW - PUBLIC - LIBRARY -

SHE - GAVE - ME HER XO -

SPOT - SW 2 AV - CROSS -

SW 2 ST - CARS ALL YES -

HRS - MALE - LOOSERS -

HISPANIC - ENGLISH FL -

SPEAKER - 'I'LL - B SAFE -

ON - THAT STREET' - I'LL -

BET - DOMINICAN - GIRL -

SHOWS LOTS OF BREASTS -

HIS - ROUTE - THIS - AM AT -

3:35A - UMBRELLA FACING -

ME - TRIPOD - PRIVACY - HE -

ALL HISPANICS - 'CRAZY -

FR - PHILIPPINES' - THEY -

WORK - TOILETS - TOXIC -

DEATH - WORK GARBAGE -

METROMOVER - MAIDS -

HOUSES - HOTELS INNS -

LOUSY WORKERS - NOT -

VERY - CLEAN - SO - HE -

WANTED - 2 - TALK 2 ME -

3:35A - PASSED - BY - TO -

SEE - ME - SLEEPING XO -

UNDER - TARP - FOREIGN -

BLK - GIRL - LIKE - ALL AS -

THEY - TALK - OUTLOUD -

OF - INJUSTICE - ANGRY -

TALK - 4 - HRS - TONIGHT -

TRANSFERING - RAINS -

ME - UNDER - TARP AS -

ROSS - DRESS - 4 LESS -

SELLS - BEST - TARP -

$3.99 - $4.99 - $5.99 -

WATERPROOF - AND -

TEAR - RESISTANT 2 -

CORRECT - AMAZON -

WAKMART - EXPENSIVE -

NOT - WATERPROOF ITS -

ROSS - TARP - REPELS -

WATER - $3.99 - QUITE -

GOOD - MOVING THERE -

TONIGHT - DOMINICAN -

REPUBLIC - GIRL - SAID -

TENT - ALLOWED THERE -

MON - FRI - 09 JUN 2023 -

THAT - SIDEWALK BEING -

CLEANED - SANITIZED -

WILL - SMELL - GREAT -

R SIDE - 2 - EAT THERE -

RIVER - VIEW - MISSING -

SEE THRU - LAKES - OF -

LAKE TAHOE - NORTH CA -

CALIFORNIA - FORGOT MY -

ORDER - 80 WATTS - FOOD -

MAKER - GETTING - NOW -

BEACH - YESTERDAY - AS -

WINDS - STRONGER 3:30P -

MORE - SO - 5:30P - WHEN -

NOT - 2 - LEAVE - MIAMI -

BEACH - 3P - 3:30P - FOR -

TRAFFIC - HEAVY - BACK -

2 - DOWNTOWN - MIAMI -

OTHER - SIDE - EMPTY -

120 MAX - 2 - AVENTURA -

DISPLAYS - BEACH - MAX -

40 MIN - EXACT - R SIDE -

CLOSE - ROSS - DRESS 4 -

LESS - TOP - FLOOR -

LEAVE 6:30P - BUS S -

NOT - 5P - 5:30P - ON -

SINDAYS - HISPANICS -

ILLEGALLY - WORK FL -

DAILY - 5 DAYS - USA -

WORK - LAWS - THUS -

PRAYED - CAME 2 THE -

UNDERLINE - CALLED -

TEXT NOW - RECEIVED -

REPLY - YES

HOPED - GOT - FEMALE -

PILIPINAS - 02 JUNE THE -

RETURN - WINDOW - I YES -

COMPLAINED - NEAR - TIE -

RIPPED - STRAIGHT - LINE -

OPENING - BOUGHT - TAPE -

2 - REPAIR - WORKED - BUT -

YESTERDAY - BEACH - WELL -

RIPPED - TOP - IN - HALF -

EDGES - 2 - CAME - OFF -

TAPED - ALL - LAST WEEK -

SAME PARK - TRIPOD AND -

UMBRELLA - FLEW - HOW -

EMBARRASING - APPROVED -

ME - QR CODE - FREE - BOX -

LABEL - EVERYTHING - ME -

GETTING - AMAZON - CARD -

OVER - $68 - 2 TO 4 HRS AS -

SOON - AS RECEIVED -

GETTING - TENT - $5 -

COUPON BOX VAULT -

OVER $46 - EXCITED

[vampireshmampire]

The Things We Can't Take Back 4/4

Summary: Guillermo finally, finally gets turned into a vampire, but it doesn't really go the way he expected. Now that he's a vampire everyone is treating him differently, but not in a good way. Everyone seems tense and angry, and Nandor will barely look at him. He's not sure what he did wrong, or if he's the one who did something wrong.

What does everyone else know that he doesn't?

Guillermo opens his eyes to darkness. Lungs that have not needed to breathe for years pull in air and let it out in a sigh.

"Happy anniversary," he murmurs to himself. He never tries to keep track. Honestly, he'd much rather forget, and most of the time he manages not to think about it at all. But when the day comes, Guillermo is always painfully aware of it.

Twenty years. He still marvels at it, sometimes. Absentmindedly he presses a tongue to a fang. It hasn't been a bad twenty years, either. He's built himself a good life, made friends, became a name to respect in the vampire circles of Brooklyn. It's not what he'd had in mind when he was human, but 364 days of the year he's perfectly happy with his life.

But on his anniversary, he can't stop thinking about old dreams, can't stop thinking about how quickly it all seemed to fall apart. Can't stop thinking about what might have been.

If he was still a human, he'd have already been up for hours doing chores but he'd be going to wake up Nandor, setting out his clothes, preparing for the night. If he was a vampire...who knows? Maybe bossing around whoever the new familiar is. God, he'd be such a pain in the ass. It's easy to let go of control in his own house, but after spending over a decade as a familiar, he'd never be able to stop himself from correcting people on the right way to do things. His way.

Guillermo finds Nandor already awake, their familiar fumbling with the clasps on his shirt.

"You've got them backwards," Guillermo says. "You have to tilt them towards you--no, the other way--" He lets out an exasperated sigh and crosses the room. "Oh, just let me do it. Go, I don't know, dust or something. And use the feather duster on the antiques, they're delicate aaand he's gone." He lets out a humph of annoyance and undoes all the clasps the familiar has already managed to bungle.

He glances up at Nandor, whose eyes are shining with amusement.

"Shut up. Shut up!" he says again when Nandor chuckles. "I just want it done right!"

"At least you let him try to do it now."

"He can do the important stuff when he proves he can do it right." He finishes the clasps and adjusts the edges so everything is straight and neat. He helps Nandor slide on the robe and begins to do up the buttons, taking his time, because he can.

"My clothes are the important stuff?" Nandor asks.

"Don't you like it when I help you dress?"

An arm slides around his waist, pulling him close.

"I like it better when you help me take them off."

"I'm sure you do."

Nandor leans down, Guillermo stretches up--

The door to his room opens and the dream falls to embarrassing pieces.

"Good evening, master."

He plasters on a smile as his familiar opens the coffin lid.

"Good evening, Terry."

Guillermo still dresses himself. He's never been able to figure out a not-awkward way to ask his familiars to do it, let alone actually go through the process twice a day. Besides, he takes pride in remaining independent. If his familiar ever took off unexpectedly, he'd be able to do his own laundry and not let the house fall into--

He shakes the thought away and steps behind the screen.

"Alright, let's have it."

He likes Terry. She's his age--or the age he was when he was turned--and sharp as a knife, enough of a wise-ass to be able to trade friendly barbs, but smart enough to know what boundaries not to push.

"Marta called; the marquesa would love to be the keynote speaker at the Hispanic-American Vampire Society dinner, but she has a prior engagement on the day of, so we'd need to move it forward to the next week."

"Shit. Well, the invitations haven't gone out yet so we might be able to make it happen. Check with the venue and see if we can reschedule, and if not, if we can still get our deposit back. Then let Marta know."

He smiled, listening to her scribble down her notes. Terry had been a personal assistant before he ate her boss and offered to make her a vampire, and she had merged the two positions flawlessly. He had made a promise to himself, years ago, that he would never string his familiars along--five years at the most--but she's so competent he can already feel himself tempted to keep her around an extra year or two.

"Lord Montague called to ask if you were very sure you don't want to come to his party tonight."

"He called, or his familiar called to ask for him?"

"His familiar called," Terry admits.

"Never date a man who needs a third party to do the legwork for him. Tell him thanks but no thanks. What do I have today?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" He stepped out from behind the screen, giving her a puzzled look. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Terry said. Guillermo frowned, tugging at his sleeve cuffs. He usually tried to schedule at least one thing for today. It helped keep his mind off of things. The thought of sitting at home, watching TV, haunted by all the thoughts of things he couldn't have, was far from pleasant.

We'd be playing chess. We always play chess on Friday.

"You know what? Maybe I will go to that party."

-

Lord Montague was everything a vampire was supposed to be--handsome, rich, intelligent, confident to the point of being smug, and an excellent host. He threw parties that were talked about for centuries, he owned property and titles in four different countries, and he never missed a trick. Guillermo had been half-heartedly dodging his advances for the better part of the last decade, enjoying the attention too much to call it off and too bored by Montague’s pride to call it on.

It’s nice to be wanted, even if it wasn't by the right person.

And Montague is enough of an ass that Guillermo doesn’t feel bad about it..

"Guillermo!" Lord Montague spread his arms wide in welcome, his face split in a smile of genuine delight. He'd come to America in the 1920's and had never been able to let go of the outfits; he was dressed in a black suit with a bright red pocket scarf and his slicked back blonde hair was almost as shiny as his shoes. "So glad you could make it after all! I was worried you were serious about not coming."

"Well, I needed to get out of the house," Guillermo said, playfully, accepting the hug. He sidestepped when Montague tried to wrap his arm around his waist, but took the offered arm.

"Thomas!" Montague snapped his fingers and his familiar--a spindly middle-aged man who envied Guillermo more than just his status as familiar-turned-vampire--materialized beside him. "Take Mr de la Cruz's familiar to the familiar room. You're going to love this place," he told Guillermo, leading him up the stairs. "It used to be a gentlemen's club that was so exclusive, I had to kill three people before they'd start accepting applications to join."

Guillermo is only half listening, letting his eyes wander over the architecture. The art deco is quite beautiful, for all it's clearly been plastered on top of a fairly run-of-the-mill building.

The main room is set up around a large, polished dance floor. Tables and chairs cluster around the edges; at the back of the room is a set of stairs that leads up to a mezzanine. There are a few people he knows; Guillermo waves but allows himself to be led without pause to the upper level. That is, of course, the whole point: for Montague to be seen arm-in-arm with the Guillermo de la Cruz.

"I'm so glad you could make it," Montague says again, "it would have been such a dull night without you. Look who's here!" Montague calls to his esteemed guests, before Guillermo can so much as open his mouth to answer.

Guillermo settles in, allows Montague to stand a little closer than is strictly necessary, and forcibly pushes all thoughts of anniversaries firmly out of his mind. He is determined to have a nice night.

He gets forty minutes.

It really isn't fair, he is having a good time when Thomas appears and leans in--between Guillermo and Montague, of course, in such a way that Guillermo has to back away a step--to whisper in his master's ear that his special guests have arrived. Guillermo glances down the stairs to the door and feels his blood run cold.

It's entirely in his mind, of course. His blood hasn't run in twenty years, but he can feel the ice dripping through his veins all the same. Of course Montague would want them to come, of course he would invite them to the upper level, nothing could be better than to have the heads of the vampiric council arrive at his party.

He debates running. Maybe if he grabs Montague and drags him into a closet; he's willing to fuck the man if it means avoiding this interaction.

Too late.

Montague, ever the gregarious host, is moving towards the stairs to greet them. Guillermo has only seconds to decide how to play this.

Cold and contemptuous? You want aloof, I'll show you aloof; you are something I've stepped in and I'm just looking for a stick to scrape you off with.

Warm and friendly? I'm not hurt at all, look how well I've done for myself, I'm happy and successful and I hope you are too because I'm taking the high road.

Disinterested? Oh, right, you, I remember, it's been so long, I've hardly thought about you.

He’s relieved that he feels no urge to fling himself at Nandor's feet and beg to be taken back. At least he has some dignity.

Civil. He'll be civil at the start, polite and friendly, and adjust according to however Nandor decides to react.

The eyes of Nandor, Nadja, and Laszlo are all fixed on him within seconds. Laszlo looks contemptuous, Nadja enraged, Nandor...

Confused. Confused, and lost.

Guillermo grits his teeth against the urge to comfort, to explain, to forgive, to bend over backward trying to smooth the wrinkle from his brow.

Shit, Nandor hasn't changed a bit. Of course he hasn't; vampires don't change, they don't age, but still. It's like something out of a nightmare, how Nandor has stepped straight out of old and painful memories.

His cape pin is slightly off-center, and it makes his collar crooked. Guillermo wonders if he did it himself, or if he's found a new familiar to dress him--if he has, they aren't as good as Guillermo was. His fingers twitch with the urge to fix it.

"I'm sure everyone is familiar with our esteemed leaders--and consort," Montague adds, with a polite bow to Laszlo. "But let me make introductions! This is Lilith of the Veil, Morgoth the Unseen, Guillermo--"

"We've met," Laszlo interrupts, icily. To Guillermo he nods and says "Gizmo."

Guillermo's eyes narrow slightly at the old nickname, but he puts on a smile.

"I was actually Nandor's familiar," he tells Montague, in a lighthearted tone he doesn't feel in the slightest.

"Bodyguard."

The correction must be automatic, because Nandor looks about as surprised as Guillermo feels.

"A little of both," Guillermo acedes.

"That's right," Lilith says with a gasp. "I always forget you were a familiar! Oh, what a fun little reunion!"

"Yes," Guillermo says, not quite managing to meet Nandor’s eyes. "Nice to see you guys again. We'll have to catch up."

If I can't find a way to escape, first.

Guillermo is not avoiding anyone. He's not going out of his way to interact with them, but he's not avoiding them. Especially not Nandor.

Unfortunately, they seem to be doing the same thing, so for the last hour the four of them have been trading glances of varying levels of disquiet from opposite sides of the room and not coming within ten feet.

Occasionally Guillermo sees Nandor in hissed arguments with the others. He'd give anything to know what they're saying.

Montague's hand slides around Guillermo's waist, and Guillermo just manages not to sigh. Instead, he moves slightly so Montague can't quite get the right grip...but Montague just shifts positions with him. The two of them are now hip-to-hip, and it's not a problem, but Guillermo is not in the mood to play hard-to-get.

As subtly as he can, he jams his thumbnail into the web between Montague's thumb and forefinger, digging in hard. Montague jerks his hand away, and Guillermo gives him a placid smile.

"Excuse me," he says to everyone. "I've got to uh...visit the little bat's room."

This is met with much amusement. It always is, no matter how many times he makes that joke. Maybe they're just being nice.

He ducks into the first room he finds and shuts the door behind him. The window is cracked open; he rests his forehead against it and lets the cold air clear his head.

It doesn't really work. It works even less when he sees the reflection of the door open by itself. He almost hopes it's Montague, but the half-hope is dashed almost immediately.

"You don't seem very happy with him," Nandor says.

"I'm not with him. I'm just here. But I am happy," he hurries to add. "I'm very happy."

"But not with him," Nandor persists. Guillermo turns and frowns at him.

"What's it to you if I am?"

"I do not understand the question."

"Why do you care if I'm with him or not?"

"I don't. I was just surprised that you would be spending time with anyone who does not make you happy."

"I spent twelve years with you, didn't I?" The words fly out before he can stop them. Nandor doesn't flinch or puff up. He just looks away, eyes roving over the wall.

"I made you unhappy."

Guillermo can't tell if it's a question or not. Nandor doesn't say anything else, and Guillermo can't stand the silence.

"How have you been?" he asks.

"Good," Nandor says, quickly. "I am good. Things are...normal."

"Good. That's good."

"You are good also?"

"Yeah, I'm–I'm great. I'm doing fantastic."

"Good. Great."

Another uneasy silence falls. Nandor fiddles with his cape. Guillermo stares at the crooked pin. If you tilted the collar towards yourself and twisted your head to see past your own chin, it might look straight.

If he has a new familiar, he doesn’t let them dress him.

…doesn’t make them dress him.

"I noticed Colin Robinson isn't with you," he says at last.

"Oh, you did not hear. He died."

"What?”

"No it was fine," Nandor says, waving a hand. "He came back. Sort of. But he came back as a little baby and is growing up at the regular human speed, so he is too young for a party. Apparently it is an energy vampire thing."

"Oh. Wow, that's--Holy shit."

"You should come to the house and remeet him," Nandor says, and Guillermo can tell he regrets saying it the second the words are out of his mouth. "Or whatever."

Guillermo doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't know what he'd do if he went back to that house.

He is saved from having to answer when the door opens again. This time it is Montague, and he looks far from happy to have found Guillermo sequestered away with someone else.

"There you are," he says, with a brittle smile. "I thought you were taking an awfully long time."

"Barely five minutes," Nandor says, annoyed.

"We were just catching up," Guillermo explains. "It's been twenty years since we've seen each other."

"In four days it will be twenty exactly."

"No, twenty years exactly today." Guillermo corrects. He should be flattered Nandor is even that close to correct. He even remembered the right number of years.

What is he saying, of course he shouldn't be flattered. Why does it matter is Nandor remembers?

"Is not," Nandor corrects right back. "You left twenty years ago in four days."

Guillermo blinked at him. Was that really how many days he'd stayed? It had felt like so much less than that.

...Nandor could remember when he left, but not when he was turned.

"Right. You turned me into a vampire twenty years ago today."

"What!" Montague interjects, scandalized, almost forgetting his annoyance. "Guillermo, how could you? You should have told me it was your anniversary, I would have thrown the party for you!"

"I never celebrate," Guillermo says, firmly, in a tone that he hopes gets across the fact that if he goes back out there in ten minutes to a chorus of 'for he's a jolly good vampire' he will never speak to Montague again, and quite possibly remove a limb before he goes. "Ever. I'll be back," he says, cutting off Montague's protests. "Your guests are waiting."

It comes out a lot colder than he wanted it to but he can't handle the balancing act of Montague and Nandor at the same time. He tells himself he'll make it up to Montague later.

Or maybe he won't, he thinks, when the door shuts very sharply. The man's a brat, and he's not nearly as endearing about it as--

"You don't celebrate ever?" Nandor echoes.

"No."

"But you were so excited to be a vampire." He sounds strange. "You wanted it more than anything."

"Because it's not a happy memory," Guillermo snaps. "I'd rather forget it, but I can't, so I don't celebrate and I try not to think about it, and I was doing a great job of it until you got here!"

"I made you a vampire!" Nandor puffs up, indignantly. "I gave you what you wanted! You were the one who left!"

"What? What does that--do you not remember how you did it? You acted like it was a chore."

"Oh, so you left because I did not give you roses and moonlight, that is it?" Nandor says, bitterly. "If I did poetry, you would have stayed?"

Guillermo would be blushing if he still could. Embarrassment crawls up his chest all the same, leaving him feeling exposed and ashamed. He'd thought he'd done a very good job hiding how he felt about Nandor, but clearly not, if Nandor knew how to use it to needle him.

"I don't want to fight about this in here," Guillermo says, rubbing his temples.

"So we go somewhere else and fight about it there," Nandor says, drawing himself up and glaring at Guillermo. "I am not afraid of you, Guillermo de la Cruz."

He remembered my name. Guillermo tries to kick the thought to death. Standards, Guillermo, you have standards now, for fuck's sake.

"You want to fight?" he asks.

"Yes I do."

"Okay." He rips the screen out of the window in one vicious tug.

A few moments later two large brown bats are fluttering through the streets of Manhattan looking for a place to duke it out without witnesses. They pick a nearby office building that's high enough that their shouting won't been overheard on the street, but not so high that it strains their wings to reach.

They land and regard each other in silence.

Where to even start? With the shitty turning, done without kindness or ceremony? With the emotional neglect? With Colin Robinson being the nicest person in the house to him for a whole week? With everyone driving it home at every available opportunity that they couldn't care less if he lived or died?

Nandor's back hits the wall hard, but he surges forward to meet Guillermo's mouth in the middle. His lips are cold, but the kiss is burning hot and every place they touch feels electric. Nandor manages to get his hands under Guillermo's shirt; Guillermo moans against his lips.

He's not thinking, neither of them is thinking--not with their heads, anyway. There is nothing but the need. They grapple with buttons and zippers and belts.

'Quick and dirty' doesn't even begin to come close. Guillermo has had some rough and frantic asignations in his time, even before he was a vampire, but they are nothing to the feverish desperation of himself and Nandor jerking each other off on the roof of an office building in midtown Manhattan. It feels like seconds--and it probably isn't much longer in actuality--before Nandor buries his face in Guillermo's neck, shuddering under his touch, free hand digging into Guillermo's shoulder.

It's the smell of Nandor's hair, so achingly familiar, dredging up memories of countless nights spent brushing and oiling the long, dark locks, that drags Guillermo over the edge.

For a few glorious moments, the world is perfect. Nandor is in his arms; the release has left them boneless; there is no pain to speak of. All is as it should be.

The afterglow sours quickly. All those thoughts come back, sharp as knives. What the fuck did he just do? What was he thinking? Had he forgotten how Nandor treated him?

He needs to go home. He needs to go home, now, and clean up, and never think about this ever again.

When he starts to pull away, though, Nandor's grip tightens.

"Please." The word is barely a whisper.

Nandor lifts his head and presses his mouth against Guillermo's cheek, leaning against him like he might collapse without the contact. His other hand slides out of Guillermo's pants and tangles in his shirt. Guillermo can feel the cold wetness of his own cum seeping through the fabric, and wonders which would be less mortifying--letting Terry see it or having to hand it over to the dry cleaners himself.

"Please," Nandor says again.

Even so, Guillermo's not going to stand here with his dick hanging out in the cold, even if he can't freeze anymore. Guillermo adjusts his position so his chest is still pressed against Nandor's, but frees up his hands to make them both something approaching decent. Then he wraps his arms around Nandor and hugs him tightly.

To Guillermo's surprise, although it probably shouldn't be so surprising, tears well up in his eyes. It's his turning all over again. On the rare occasions he allowed himself to daydream about this, he always imagined something special. Oh, he'd fantasized more than once about fucking or being fucked up against a wall, but not for their first time. If he ever got so lucky, he'd planned on it being something worth remembering. Something tender and precious, with loving words and a lingering touch, drawn out desire and exploration.

Not a mutual handjob on a dirty rooftop, with barely a word spoken and all this tangled up mess between them.

How could he do this to me? Treat me like shit, drive me out, and then fuck me and say please. What am I supposed to do now?

"What do you want from me?" Guillermo asks, hoarsely.

"This," Nandor murmurs, nuzzling Guillermo's temple, turning the press of his mouth against Guillermo's skin into a kiss. "This."

"This?" Guillermo jerks back, or tries to. Nandor's still holding on too tightly, Guillermo can barely get a step away. "What do you mean this? Back alley fucking? And don't you say we're on a rooftop, I know we're on a rooftop, that's not the point."

"You," Nandor says, desperately. "I want you. This. Us."

"Us."

Nandor leans in for a kiss, eyes sliding shut.

"Us," he says again. Guillermo grabs him by the shoulders and shoves him back.

"Why now? Why now, after all this time? After everything--everything I went through, why--why now?" He pulls free, knocking Nandor's hands away. But Nandor surges up and wraps his arms tightly around Guillermo, clinging to him.

"Come home to me," he says, and Guillermo's legs nearly give out with how badly he wants it. Nandor's voice is hoarse and low and it tears through every wall Guillermo tries to put up. "Come home, Guillermo. Every day I have missed you, I have wanted you. I will do anything you say, everything you say, but do not leave me again." His voice trembles as he pleads. "Show me mercy, Guillermo."

Guillermo wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants--more than anything--to say yes.

"Why now?" he asks again. "Why not twenty years ago? What am I doing now that I wasn't doing then?"

"I was stronger then," Nandor says. "All this time, the thought of you has haunted me, and now that I have held you in my arms--do not send me back alone, Guillermo. Do you want me to beg? I will beg. Just tell me what I must do to make you want to stay, and I will do it."

It is everything Guillermo has ever wanted to hear, and it's twenty years too late.

"What do you mean 'all this time'?" He pulls away from Nandor, though the man's hands cling to him, fingers grasping desperately as Guillermo steps away. "You didn't care! You said you didn't care! You told me--"

"I told you if you wanted to stay, you could stay, and you left! You didn't want to stay!"

"Did you want me to stay?" A terrible, horrible thought is beginning to occur, and Guillermo wants--needs--to be wrong. "Nandor, twenty years ago when I asked you if you wanted me to stay, you said you didn't care. Did you?"

"I wanted you to do what you wanted to do!" Nandor says, not quite looking him in the eye.

"But what did you want me to do? If it had been up to you--"

"It was your decision--"

"Did you want me to stay?"

"Yes!"

It's not quiet enough for the word to echo; even up here the sounds of traffic are too loud. But the word bangs around in Guillermo's skull, drowning out any other thoughts.

"I wanted you to stay," Nandor says bitterly, almost spitting the words out. "But you didn't want to stay."

Guillermo laughs. It's a soft, awful, poisonous laugh.

"See," he says, "the thing is...you didn't act like you didn't care. You acted like you couldn't stand the sight of me. You acted like I was this massive inconvenience you couldn't wait to get rid of. The second you bit me, you all started treating me differently. You guys were nicer to me when I was a familiar. Every chance you got one of you would put me down or shut me out. You didn't even want to teach me how to be a vampire! You would barely even look at me!"

Nandor is starting to put the pieces together; Guillermo can see it in his eyes.

"No," Nandor says, and Guillermo nods. "No, no, no--"

Guillermo smiles. The motion makes the tears in his eyes spill out and over. Isn't it funny? A fucking comedy of errors. All he'd had to do was stay. All Nandor had had to do was ask. He can't even feel angry about it. He feels nothing but grief. He could have stayed. None of this had to happen. He and Nandor could have been--

Nandor steps back, then again. He hit the wall and slumps as if stabbed. Guillermo starts to laugh again.

"All this time--I thought--And you thought--" He throws his hands up in despair. "And now we find out, when it's too late." Guillermo finally loses that terrible smile. "It's too late."

"Why?" Nandor says, abruptly. "Why is it too late?"

"It's been twenty years--"

"So what if it is twenty years? So what if it is a hundred years?" Some inner fire lights itself in Nandor's eyes. He straightens up and fixes Guillermo with a fierce stare. "I want you to come home. If you want to come home, you can! There is nothing stopping any of us!"

"I have my own life now! I have a house and a familiar and work--"

"Then I can come to you! I will leave Staten Island and move to wherever you are."

"Seriously? You'd just pack up everything and move into my house in Brooklyn."

"I don't even need my things! Forget my stupid things!"

"But what about the others?"

"What about them? They are my friends, they will always be my friends, but if you do not want to come back to Staten Island, I will go to wherever you are. It is not too late!" Nandor strides across the roof and grabs Guillermo's hands in his; the fire in his eyes leaves Guillermo light-headed. "I will not let it be too late!"

"Why didn't you just ask me to stay?" Guillermo asks. "None of this would have happened--"

"The same reason you did not ask me why I was acting as I was; the same reason you left when you wanted to stay. I was afraid that if I told you what I wanted, you would not care."

Nandor's grip on Guillermo's hands shifts so he is cradling instead of clinging.

"I have sired many vampires and none of them ever stayed. Whatever they said before I turned them, in the end none of them ever wanted me. The harder I tried to make them stay, the worse it was when they left. When you said you would leave it broke my heart. But to hear you say no if I asked you to stay...it would have broken me."

Guillermo swallows hard. He wishes his heart could still beat, he wishes his lungs would gasp for air. His body is so horribly, terribly still, even though his mind is a screaming swirl of emotions. There is no outlet, unless he starts screaming uncontrollably, which he hasn't entirely taken off the table.

"None of this had to happen!" Guillermo says. "We could have been happy, we could have--"

"We can still be happy now! You are mad at me, so be mad! But be mad at me in Staten Island, or in Brooklyn! I do not care if you are mad about this for the rest of my life, as long as you are there for the rest of my life."

Guillermo stares, speechless, into the blazing brown eyes. This is Nandor the Relentless, and that ferocity that had once levelled cities is now turned towards Guillermo. Nandor saw love within his reach and that stare said he was willing to tear the world apart to get to it.

I will not let it be too late.

Fuck if that isn't the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to Guillermo in his life.

"I love you," Guillermo says.

How could he say anything else?

-

Guillermo decides he'll count this time as their first time, under the excuse that even if it's their second time having sex, it's their first time making love. And it's infinitely better. They're in a bed, for one, and significantly more comfortable. But even if it the sex was terrible, it would be perfect, because he is so, so in love.

The sex isn't terrible. Nandor is very good.

(Guillermo is better, but he doesn't say anything, because it's not a competition even if he's winning. He keeps his mouth shut and takes private satisfaction in the way Nandor's eyes roll so far back in his head he might be looking at his own brain.)

He makes himself stay in the moment, refuses to think about how this could have been happening twenty years ago, it should have happened. It's happening now, and right now, that's the most important thing.

Well, the most important thing is that if Guillermo holds Nandor's hips like this and thrusts in at this angle, Nandor makes sounds like a dying animal which are--paradoxically--extremely sexy.

But not letting lost time ruin a perfect moment is a close second.

They don't call it quits until Nandor's arms give out while he's on top and he nearly headbutts Guillermo as he collapses.

"Okay," Nandor says, face pressed against Guillermo's shoulder. "I think I need a break."

"Let's call it a night," Guillermo suggests.

"Until tomorrow night," Nandor says, hopefully. Guillermo hums in agreement and kisses Nandor's forehead. He's more tired than he would have thought, even discounting the extremely vigorous sex, but he suspects something about the resolution of twenty years of grief might have something to do with it.

"It's late. I don't want you to go," Guillermo says, because when he learns a lesson he learns it, "but you don't have a lot of time to get back to Staten Island from here."

"I also do not want me to go," Nandor says. "So I will not go."

"You won't be able to sleep," Guillermo says.

"I will watch you do it," Nandor says softly, tracing a fingertip across Guillermo's cheekbone. "There are worse ways to spend a day."

Guillermo wants to argue, but he's losing the fight to keep his eyes open. Nandor smiles at him.

"Goodnight, Guillermo."

"Mi amor," Guillermo murmurs, and is asleep in seconds.

-

The soft knock on the door doesn't wake him, but Nandor sitting up does. He raises his head as the door creaks open. Terry sticks her head in.

"Hi," she whispers.

"Terry? Terry!" He sits bolt upright, nearly banging into Nandor. "Oh my god, I left you at the party--"

"Lord Montague is not a happy vampire," she tells him. "Like, declare the two of you his mortal enemies not happy."

Guillermo rolls his eyes.

"Fucking drama queen. Whatever. He didn't threaten you or anything, did he?"

"No, I wasn't there for that; I left right after you did."

"How did you know I left?"

"You put that 'find my phone' app thing on your phone; I use it to track your movements."

"Excuse me?"

"Anyway, long story short," Terry holds up a large leather satchel, "I have some of Nandor's ancestral soil so he can actually sleep while he sleeps over. Laszlo and Nadja say congratulations, by the way, but they sounded pretty sarcastic."

"She's an even better familiar than you were," Nandor says, impressed.

"I flew to Iran to get you--fine, whatever. She's great."

Terry crosses the room, her eyes carefully averted, and hands Nandor the bag.

"Thank you," he says, with a small bow. Terry gives him a bright smile and Guillermo a big thumbs up, and slips out again.

"We're talking about this tracking my movements thing," Guillermo calls after her.

"No we aren't," she says, and shuts the door.

Nandor tosses the bag of dirt under the bed and flops back with a relieved sigh. Guillermo settles down next to him, but Nandor insistently pulls him into his arms, so Guillermo's head is resting on his shoulder and his arm is across his chest.

Guillermo's eyes begin to sting again. Twenty years. Twenty years of this they could have had, and hadn't. All that time, lost, wasted, because they were too afraid--

"You know the good thing about living forever is that lost time is not so much. If we were going to die at ninety, twenty years is so much of our lifetimes. But for us, we have many twenties ahead of us. In a few hundred years it will seem like nothing."

Guillermo pushes himself up onto his elbow. Nandor's expression is very serious.

"It feels like a long time to me."

"Yes. But the long time is over. Everything is downhill from here."

"Uphill," Guillermo corrects. Nandor frowns.

"No, downhill. Uphill is harder. Downhill is easy. No more struggles."

"Aha," Guillermo says. "My mistake."

"I am tired of hurting," Nandor says. "I want to be happy."

"I want you to be happy, too." He leans down and presses his lips to Nandor's. By the time the kiss is over, Nandor is asleep. Guillermo smiles and tugs the blanket up over the two of them.

-

Guillermo opens his eyes to darkness.

"Happy anniversary," he whispers to himself.

There is a playful knocking on his coffin lid. Before Guillermo can answer, the lid swings open, and Nandor grins down at him.

"Happy anniversary. Twenty-one years a vampire, very exciting!"

Guillermo grabs Nandor by the shirt and hauls him down into the coffin. Nandor disappears inside with a yelp, the lid banging shut behind him. Guillermo only got the larger coffin because he likes a little more room (he's still not quite used to it, even after twenty years). That Nandor is able to fit quite snugly inside with him is just a bonus.

"One year of you and me," Guillermo says. "Even more exciting."

Nandor's grin gets wider.

"That is an extra happy anniversary."

"I can tell you're extra happy," Guillermo says.

"You make me extra happy. Have you ever had happy anniversary sex? It is very good."

"Can't say I have," Guillermo says, his hands sliding from Nandor's chest to his back, and then his lower back. "I--"

There is a sharp rap on the coffin.

"I hate to interrupt, Master, but you did instruct me to remind you that you always regret having sex in the coffin."

"Do you just hide out there and listen in?" Guillermo demands.

"No, but I saw Nandor go in, and the door isn't shut, and I know you."

"Terry, you are being the buzzkill."

"Sorry, Nandor. I have my orders."

"No, she's right," Guillermo sighs. He pats Nandor on the ass, earning himself a playful little squirm. "Come on. We can do all kinds of weird anniversary sex on the bed."

"Ah-ah," Nandor stops him and boops him on the nose. "On the ceiling."

"On the--No. We are not having sex on the ceiling."

"It is our anniversary!"

"That's not--Ceiling. Okay, cariño, whatever you want."

Nandor leans down and presses their lips together in a slow kiss. When he pulls away his expression is one of such adoration Guillermo forgets that he doesn't need to breathe, and feels breathless.

"You are whatever I want," he murmurs. Guillermo melts.

"Mi amor--"

Knock knock.

"Master--"

"Terry, go dust something and let me make my regrettable decisions in peace."

"Okay," she says in a tone that says 'I'm not going to verbally tell you I told you so but I am going to say it very loudly with my eyes when you have to ask me to clean the vampire semen out of your coffin and you will have to ask me even though I know you're going to want me to do it'.

But Nandor is nibbling on his neck and it's their anniversary and Guillermo couldn't care less.

'Happy anniversary,' Guillermo thinks. 'And many happy returns.'

[thatonecurlygirl]

Billy Hargrove Masterlist

*🔥= smut warning

Drabbles/Oneshots:

Kissing Strangers

“…I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending they are you. It just doesn’t work like that, I need you.” He says quietly, not wanting anyone to hear how desperate he sounds.

Bad Boy Next Door

You and Billy never really talked much, or at all. He was always doing him, rarely at the house and always out partying. You were always helping your mom around the house and picking up babysitting jobs here and there. You and Billy were from a different side of the tracks—or fence— what could there possibly be to talk about?

Graduation Anticipation

For you and Billy, graduation cannot come soon enough.

What’s Worse Than Death?

“Touch her and you’ll find out exactly what’s worse than death, I like to call it my bad side.” Billy threatens.

You are Nothing/Everything

“You’re nothing! You hear me? Nothing!” You hear the familiar angered voice of Neil’s through the front door you are standing at.

How Much Did You Drink?

“Nothing Billy. I’m just tired of coming home and you either ignoring me or being drunk off your ass!” You throw your purse down on the bed and pick his dirty clothes up off the floor and shoving them in the hamper.

Broken Ribs

“Yep your ribs are broken – of course, they’re broken – it looks like you have an alien protruding from your body.” You gasp, looking up at him with concern in your eyes.

You’ve Gotta Leave Him

The reader and Billy are fighting pretty badly because the reader has these haunting thoughts of “you got to leave him before he leaves you”

Confrontation

“Do you think I liked hurting you?” He asks.

Said You Wouldn’t

You’ve seen Billy angry, you’ve seen him hurt and upset, you’ve seen his self-loathing side, and hell, you’ve seen him cry before. Never have you seen the look of betrayal and disappointment cross his face and never because of you. It hurt, it hurt seeing Billy look at you that way.

Drunk and Broken Trust

“…Sometimes you realize the people you trusted are assholes.”

If You Can’t Sleep…

He was warm next to you and smelled of cigarettes, cedarwood, and hidden turmoil. The last causing more than a little unease in your mind as you look at Billy’s face as he peacefully sleeps beside you.

Does He Know?

“Does who know about what baby?” Billy asks walking up to the two of you, buttoning up his shirt as he looks between the two of you.

Sunday Shenanigans

The light from outside barely bright enough for anyone to differentiate dawn from dusk but bright enough to give the room behind him a slight glow. The scene looking almost as if he is a saint on a stained glass window — or maybe something more along the lines of a sex god.

Babysitting Duty

“Welcome to fatherhood, Hargrove.” Steve chuckles, clapping Billy on the back.

You’re Satan

“Babe, Satan wishes he was me…"

Choosing Billy

There’s a love triangle between Y/N, Billy, and Steve, but you can only choose one…

Sex and Snuggles

(Request) Can you do a Billy H x Reader one about the reader has a higher sex drive than Billy and he’s slightly embarrassed/mad that even HE can’t keep up with the reader.

Cheater, Cheater

you think Billy’s cheating on you with carol on you so you go to Steve for advice. Things get… angsty

Series/Mini-Series:

Queen of Hawkins // 2 // 3 // 4

You ran Hawkins High and rarely did you ever have any pushback mainly because everyone liked you and things were orderly under your control, but also because everyone is well aware of what could happen if they screwed with the order of things. So, you knew you had to deal with this before it escalated into another incident.

Runaway // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6

“I’m number 004 but I prefer (y/n). I can feel the past and see the future and frankly the latter is about to get pretty scary.” You explain, rolling up your sleeve to show the numbers tattoos on your arm.

Harrington’s Cousin // 2

Steve’s (Hispanic) cousin moves to town and turns some heads, but most importantly catches the attention of Billy Hargrove.

Mercy // 2 // 3 // 4

(Based on Mercy by Shawn Mendes). He would have never imagined himself in the living room of a girl, sexually untouched by him, eating popcorn and pizza with her family. He also would have never imagined feeling the way he does when he looks at you.

Nervous // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5

(Based on Nervous by Shawn Mendes). For some reason Billy is frozen in place, his heart beats faster than it ever has before, his hands shaking with some kind of energy or tension – something he has never felt before. All he knows is he can’t take his eyes off you…

Biology of Billy Hargrove (Series Masterlist)

Billy was trouble from the moment his Camaro tires crossed the city lines and you weren’t looking to get into the kind of trouble Billy Hargrove brought to the table, so you stayed out of each other’s ways, not even sparing a sideways glance… until now.

[fabricated-misslieness]

Peter Parker x gender neutral reader with powers

Powers inspired by Fetch from Infamous Second Son

(I made this moodboard earlier on in the week to keep inspiration, since I didn’t have the time to write this then. This basically describes the reader)

Part 2 here

Requested: No

Word Count: 2512

Warnings: Swearing

Everyone knew (y/n) as the star of the track team, but to certain others he was a little more than that.

To the people in your classes, you were the quiet kid, the one that the teacher always seemed to forget to call. Yet they couldn’t seem to be that angry at your luck, maybe it was your charm, or maybe it was that sweet smile of yours.

To the quiet, shyer students, you were the nice popular kid, the one that would pull bullies away from others whenever you saw a situation arise. Ironically, the bullies were usually other popular kids.

To the popular kids, you were the one that they all liked, despite not talking much. You could say one sentence in an entire conversation and it would make them grow fonder of you.

To the kids in your art class, you were the one that always had a tip for their artwork, a tip that never failed to help. You were the artistic kid who got praise from everyone and would not hesitate to praise back.

To your best friends, you were crazy, in the good way. You had a risk to try every day and a gorgeous hide-away spot hidden in plain sight. But you had the tendency to disappear without a trace, though you were always back by a day or two. As for where you went, it was a mystery. They asked, but you never gave a direct answer.

To Peter Parker, you were someone that gave him subtle hints. Hints to what, he didn’t know, but you always winked when you saw him and didn’t have the time to speak, which was rare. You usually approached him, gave him a suave greeting, and sometimes a small pick up line. Ned told him they were pick up lines, but he didn’t actually believe that they were. The constant of the confusing equation that you were, though, was your smile. It was genuine. Not pitiful, not forced, not mocking, but truly, truly genuine.

It felt nice for someone, someone who wasn’t all that close to him, to smile at him in that way. He was used to the pitiful stares from people who knew what happened to his family, the forced ones he got from people trying to act nice, the mocking ones he got from Flash and his friends when they taunted him.

But to Spider-Man, you were an enigma. He’d usually find you spray painting the side of a building. Of course, he didn’t know it was you. Your ‘disguise’, he called it a disguise but it clearly wasn’t one, was a painting mask, one that blocked toxic paint fumes, and a beanie. Really, it was that simple. 

You couldn’t blame him, though, anytime you had the small gut feeling he, or for that matter any other law-abiding citizen, was nearby, you’d bolt.

Your powers came in handy for that.

Speaking of which, he wanted to know where those powers came from, if they were tech or superpowers, if you ever had to replenish, if they consumed something like energy, if you could do something other than run faster and let the trails linger, and several other questions.

Everything you did with them left a neon red glow or  trail, sometimes you even used them for your artwork.

Anyway, what even was the crime you did for Spider-Man to come after you?

Vandalism, straight up graffiti. That was certainly a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man kinda job, huh? Helping grandmas cross the street, old hispanic ladies get directions, stopping people from loitering where they shouldn’t be… non-Avengers level stuff.

Your graffiti was mostly political/social movement stuff, but sometimes it was a way for you to express yourself.

Nobody knew about your powers, hell, you didn’t even know where they came from. That was why you never told anybody, but man was it a hard secret to hold. Your reason was that they’d push you to become a superhero, like Spider-Man. That, however, wasn’t the biggest of your fears, nor the biggest reason.

You were scared. What would they think of you?

What would they think of the real you? The ‘you’ you wanted to show them.

You sighed, looking at the artwork on the wall. You’d worked as the ideas came to your head, even with how messy it was, it looked good. You felt like it represented you.

Even with how good it felt to paint your feelings out, your recent thoughts about how your friends, or really anybody at all, would react had altered your mood.

“How does Spider-Man do it?” You muttered to yourself. How did he keep a different identity, from superhero to teenager? At least you thought he was a teenager. Every time you ran from him he’d scream for you to “come back” or “slow down”, and he’d always sounded like a teenager.

“How do I do what?” Before you could run just like the other times, he webbed your wrist to the wall, too late to realize it was fresh paint and you had your watch on.

You shrunk back, side-eyeing the artwork and struggling against your restraint, forgetting in a state of panic that you could easily break it with your powers.

Spider-Man could see the panic in your eyes, and he was quick to calm you down.

“Struggling won’t--” No, Peter, that’s not how you reassure someone. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He was relieved to see panic to falter that teeny little bit.

“I just want to make a deal.” It struck him a few seconds later how wrong that sounded. “N-Not a drug deal, or anything.” 

The panic subsided, though the uneasy feeling didn’t. You were amused at his mixup, thought you didn’t show it.

“You stop spray painting areas where you’re not allowed, and I let you go with a warning.”

You raise an eyebrow, pulling down your mask slightly so that he could hear you properly. Peter couldn’t help but think you looked a little attractive that way.

“You’ve seen the activism stuff I’ve done.” He has, and he was all for it, but it was still vandalism. “The world needs to listen, and if they can’t, they have to see.” You stuffed your hands into your pockets. You would’ve assumed that Spider-Man would be all up for it, but it seemed like he wasn’t.

“Trust me, I agree with it, it’s just that it’s illegal.” He crossed his arms as if to intimidate you but it had no effect on you.

You huff, furrowing your eyebrows. “You know that’s bull, Spider-Man.”

“Look, I love your artwork, but you have no permits.” He insisted, which was making you grow more and more agitated.

“You don’t have to be lawful good.” Peter raised his eyebrows at the DND terms, but you couldn’t see that. “These are statements for the world. And they’re—“

Spider-Man gestured towards the graffiti behind you, which was clearly not a statement.

“Alright, you got me there.“ You roll your eyes, “I can stop these, but I will not stop the important ones. I put them in those places because I need the people to see.”

Spider-Man was conflicted. On one hand, you were morally correct. On the other lawful hand, the spray painting was still illegal. He didn’t know how he should act on this.

Once again, he could clearly see you growing frustrated.

He steps forward to put a hand on your shoulder, but as his hand lands on it, your powers let out a neon red shock.

It doesn’t affect you, but it clearly affects him… and the web on your wrist.

He collapses face-first on the ground of the alleyway.

“Shit,” You kneel down next to him. “Of all the times for these stupid powers to backfire, it’s now?”

You stand up, debating on whether or not you should flee from the scene, leaving the red clad superhero on the ground.

Your moral compass was pointing to no. You couldn’t just leave him here alone, he seemed hurt.

You’d never done something like that on accident, not to this degree. Anything else remotely similar had been used as self defense, to some mugger or two, and all it did was stun them for a sec so that you could run away.

You turn him over to check on him.

He appeared to be fine physically, but then again if he’d only fainted he’d be up and running by now. 

You sigh, stretching and getting ready to pick him up because he didn’t exactly look like a light-weight. Now, where was the nearest hideout?

Peter woke up in a sleeping bag. The first thought in his head wasn’t where he was, rather, why was his mask on? 

He moved to take it off but then remembered what happened last night.

Then he asked himself, where am I?

He strained to sit up. It felt like he’d been hit by a truck several times.

He first looked down because his head throbbed with a splitting headache. When he found himself stable enough, he looked at his surroundings. 

The first thing he’d noted to himself was that this was definitely not his bedroom, nor was it a place he recognized.

The second thing was, the place was dirty as all hell, it looked to be an abandoned warehouse. The only furniture seemed to be placed there by squatters, which was technically what you were, since this was your hideout.

You walked carrying a dunkin donuts bag. “You’re up?”

Without the beanie and the mask, he could finally see who you were. “(y/n)?” He whispered under his breath, hoping you wouldn’t catch that. You were the person who gave him hints, and also the star of the track team. No wonder you were able to run away from him that fast, even with your powers. He felt stupid, it was so obvious who you were.

“Yeah, that’s me.” You snicker, sitting next to him. You take note of the way he sways as he sits as if he were dazed, which he most likely was. “I’m going to assume you know me. As much as I’d like to guess who you were, I think that’d be a bit rude.”

Despite how dizzy he felt, Peter couldn’t help but notice you acted as if whatever happened in that alleyway didn’t happen.

You were being nice to him, even when he started that argument.

“I brought food, even if you won’t eat it in front of me.” You hand him a sandwich and a cup of water. Peter nods, taking the drinks but keeping them next to him. “I checked you for any serious injuries, had to pull back your suit.”

You notice the way he leans back from you, you take it as a sign of worry.

“Don’t worry, there was nothing serious. I didn’t check under your mask either, if you’re worried about that too.” You thought he would’ve assumed you didn’t from your previous comment about his identity, but panic can make you forget things, you guess. “Just bruises, and I think I gave you a concussion. They’re probably from that red burst... sorry about that by the way.”

“Probably?” He asked.

You hummed a yes, rubbing the back of your neck. “I don’t actually know much about these powers.” You played with the neon light of the glow stick you always carried around with you, in case you ever needed a recharge. You ‘pulled’ the light from the stick, admiring it. Spider-Man seemed to admire it too, though probably in an investigative manner.

After a while of molding it into different forms, you put it back on the stick. Peter took that as a sign to speak up.

“You don’t mind me knowing your identity?”

You stare up at him with a cheeky smile. Peter thought you looked beautiful under the red glow of the glowstick. “I wasn’t trying to hide it.”

Peter flushes a bright red, thankful for his mask. He nods slowly, pretending he was processing the information.

“I should.. leave.” He stands up, a little too fast for his dizziness. As a consequence, he nearly falls back down, if it weren’t for your fast reflexes.

“I think you should stay a while.” Your smile was wonderful. “Wait ‘till you feel fine.”

Peter looked out the small windows of the warehouse, it was still dark out. That was a relief, since that day, or maybe tomorrow who knows, was a school day. “Okay.” He mutters adorably. He plops back down on the sleeping bag.

You sit next to him again, taking a bite of your own sandwich. “I don’t imagine you’re actually hungry.” He nods back at you.

“You should take these back.” He makes an effort to shove the items back in your bag, but you stop him before he can.

“No, you should keep them.” He can tell you seem worried.

“Y’know, I think my concussion is--” He tries to stand up, yet you pull him back down.

You gave him an all-knowing look, “It’s not. You’re still swaying.”

You see the spider eyes narrow at you, and you can’t help but think he’s adorable. It’s almost like Peter trying to figure out if you’re flirting with him or not. “You’re nice.”

“I caused your concussion.” You reply.

Right, you were the one that pulled Flash away from him. He’d heard the stories from the other kids, too. Man, you seemed absolutely perfect.

The rest of his time with you he insists on making small talk, even if you tell him not talking might help him rest up more. You weren’t exactly sure if it would, and he wasn’t either, which was one of the reasons he insisted.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for him to stop swaying. He had a small headache, which would most likely last for the rest of the day, but the dizziness had left him.

His main priority was to get out of there, not only to get home, but also because you were making him flustered. You liked teasing Spider-Man, despite not indulging in blush because of the mask. You could tell by the way he looked down or how he fiddled with his fingers.

“I think I’m good now.” You made him stand up to make sure he was telling the truth.

He passed that simple test so you showed him towards the exit.

You checked your phone, “12 am.”

He nods, sandwich bag webbed up to the drink for easier carriage. “Uh..” You hadn’t expected Spider-Man to be this awkward. “Thanks..?”

“Yeah,” You smile. “No problem.”

He turns to head out but you stop him with a hand on his shoulder. He nearly jumps back when you press a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“See ya around?” Your smile turned cheeky.

“Y-Yeah!” He exclaims out nervously. A second later, he’s right out the door. Even if he has a mask on, he’s not risking embarrassing himself in front of you.

“God, why do I have to be so awkward?”

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

That Puta

A/N: y’all, this hurt but it was so sweet.

WARNINGS: SMUT, fights, mention of blood, angst(always a little with me)

TAGLIST: @ifoundmyhappythought @woahitslucyylu @gemini0410 @angelreyesgirl89 @angelreyesgirl @fvckthisbxtchup @claytoncardenasbabymama @vicmackeybullshxt @choppedgalaxynerd-blog-blog @cind-in-real-life @starrynite7114 @phoenixhalliwell @dazzledamazon @whyisgmora

“Did you hear that Angel Reyes’ mom was killed? Good riddance, she was so mean. One time when I went to that carne-whatever she totally tried to—“ You didn’t let her finish. As she chonked on her pink bubblegum and told some story, you grabbed that bitch by the hair and dragged her out into the gravel. She claws at your arms, chest, anything to get a hold of you.

“Shit! Grab her!” Bishop shouts. You let the background screams and shouts dissipate as that little bitch looks at you and scoffs, fist connecting with your eye and effectively pissing you off.

“Are you serious? You think cause Angel doesn’t wanna bang you, that you have the right to-“ You throw her into the gravel, hearing the crunch under your boots as Coco holds Gilly and Creeper back. The brunette with blonde ends stands up, bloodied knees and palms. “Oh baby, he told me he’d never dick you down because you’re too ugly. He told me you weren’t his type, too manly. I guess I see it-“ You toss her aside, grabbing her hair and plowing her through the crowd of screaming girls to the trunk of a car, where you proceed to slam her face into the flat surface of the trunk.

“You don’t talk bad about a dead lady, dumb bitch.” You snarl, teeth grinding as Bishop grabs your arms and tries to pull you away. Yanking your arms away, you pile drive her and hear her sputter. Just as you finally get to her face, your nails clawing at her exposed arms and chest, the sirens wailing in the distance get closer.

“Shit!” Bishop shouts, skittering to you hide you. Hauling you to your feet, he hands you off to Coco and your eyes meet his brown ones.

“Did Angel really tell some dick warmer that I wasn’t good enough?” You whisper, chewing on your lip and looking over your knuckles.

“Miel-“

“Tell me, Coco.” You huff, looking into his sad eyes. He nods.

“Yeah, he was just drunk though, he didn’t mean— oh shit. You’re in love with him.” He deadpans, his jaw hitting the gravel as he stares at you.

“That obvious, huh?” As the cops pull in, one calls for an ambulance and Coco makes every attempt to shove you into the clubhouse.

“Who’s responsible for the damage?” A cop shouts, and you rush through the door waving your hand.

“Me officer!” You shout, holding your hands up. At first he chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” You grin as you reach down and slam her groggy head into the gravel once more, knocking her out. Strutting towards the cop, his jaw slack, you turn and place your hands behind your back. The cuffs are slammed on and he gently puts you in the car.

As Angel finishes filling out his release form, he sees what looks like you being walked to a cell in an orange jumpsuit, hands behind your back.

“Y/N?” He shouts, watching you look over your shoulder at the sound of his voice. Angel feels the anger swell in his heart as he jerks against the cuffs on his hands. “Y/N!” He yells, his eyes falling on the black eye you donned and the cuts on your lip and your arms.

“Mister Reyes, finish the paperwork.” Nips the officer, tapping the table with an annoyingly fast pace.

“Why’s she here?” He asks, looking over his shoulder just in time to see you put in a cell and the door shut in your face.

“I don’t know. You won’t finish this paperwork so I can find out.” She groans, waving to the paper. Angel scribbles as fast as he can and then stands.

“Tell me, I gotta know.” He barks, nodding to the computer. She quickly does some clicking and looks at Angel with a shocked expression.

“She got into a physical altercation and the woman was sent to the hospital.” She informs, looking at him expecting him to react.

“A physical—a fight? Like a fist fight?” He asks, eyes wide. The woman nods, looking at him. “Does she have bail?” He asks.

“Doesn’t look like—hmm that’s weird. It says refused bail posting.” She shrugs, clicking a couple more things. “She doesn’t want bail posted for a two days.” She states, eyebrows knitted together in concentration.

“Can I just talk to her?” He asks, wringing his hands together. He knew something was really wrong if you didn’t want bail. She nods, grabbing her keys and heading back to the cells. As he gets to your cell, he finds you lying on the cot, staring at the ceiling. “Amarillo isn’t exactly you color, Y/N.” He chuckles, resting a hand on the bars. You don’t even sit up to talk to him, ignoring him. “Y/N?” He asks, his hands now gripping the bars as he gets concerned. “Christ miel, it’s Angel!” He shouts, causing you to jump and sit up. Scowl on your face, arms crossed over your chest, you stare at him.

“I can fucking hear you. I’d prefer not to.” You nip, starting to lay back down.

“What did you do?” He asks, and you scoff. Standing, you stand just out of his reach and lock your jaw, clenching your teeth together.

“What did I do? Stuck up for you! Only to find out that I’m a fucking joke to you!” You shout, throwing a hand at him. Stepping back, he looks at you, confused.

“You’re not a fuckin’ joke,” he shakes his head and you start to laugh.

“To you? Oh yeah I am! That’s the only reason I can figure! You told some crow eating, dick sucking whore that you’d never ‘dick me down’ because I was too ugly. Boy, I’m glad you fantasize about fucking me, Angel Reyes, because it’s as close as you’ll ever be to me again!” You shriek, feeling the tears fall down your face. Sniffling, you swipe away the tears and flop onto the cot, back to the cell door.

“Shit, I didn’t mean it like that. She kept asking me why I was watching you. I just—“

“I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

“You wouldn’t! You were just dying to clock that puta because she got some dick and you didn’t! Ya know, miel, I never took you for a jealous type.” Angel scoffs dryly, feeling uncomfortable being on the outside of a cell.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t know what love was if it jumped out and slapped you.” You call, letting him walk away. Tears fall down your cheeks as you curl up on the cold flat cot.

As Angel slinks into the clubhouse, Bishop’s angry gaze bares holes into Angel’s already annoyed demeanor.

“Glad you’re here.” He ruffs, tongue jaw crooked as his tongue swipes across his lips in attempt to control his tongue. “You didn’t bail out Y/N?” He asks, looking out the slowly shutting door.

“No, Bish. I didn’t.” He huffs, sarcasm rolling off his tongue.

“Why the fuck not?” He growls.

“She didn’t fuckin’ want it.” He retorts sharply, eyes dark and dangerous.

“Why is that?”

“Cause she didn’t fuckin’ want bail. I don’t know.” He shrugs, heading to the bar a drink when Bishop’s hand reaches out and grabs Angel’s shoulder.

“What’d you do?” He barks.

“Me? Of course. Always me. I wasn’t the one who cracked out and sent some chick to the ER and it’s still Angel’s fault! Fucking blame Angel!” He shouts, tapping his chest and nodding. “She’s the one who beat up another chick because I didn’t want her pussy!” Angel laughs dryly, swinging his hand. Creeper’s fist flies at him before he can even react. Stumbling back and grabbing his face, he looks at him incredulously. “What the fuck?” Angel shouts, storming towards Creeper, whose chest is heaving.

“That what you think happened?” Coco asks, eyes boring into Angel’s soul.

“Yeah! She fucking asked me if I said I didn’t wanna ‘dick her down’.”

“Because she dragged that puta outside for badmouthing your dead mom, bro.” Coco points to the photo on the wall of Angel’s mother that he kept off to the side near the bar.

“She what?” He asks, his heart dropping to his soles.

“Leah was badmouthing your mom, and Y/N dragged her out by her hair. When Leah couldn’t win physically she used some old drunk shit to fuel her. She’s in the ER because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.” Coco barks, pointing to Angel as he heads for door.

“Is that really what she did?” He stares at Coco, licking his lips and chewing on his bottom lip, concerned.

“Yeah, bro. She said some shit to hurt Y/N.” He shrugs as he heads outside leaving Angel there hurt. He’d said some bad shit to you. He was currently kicking himself. He hadn’t meant it, not the way that puta made it sound.

Almost a week went by, Angel not hearing from you was painful. He couldn’t seem to function right. He lost his charm.

“Hey, Angel. What do you say we head to my place-“

“Nah, ‘m good.” He shrugs off the sweet Hispanic woman and heads to the bar for another beer.

“Yo Angel! Coco’s got a hundred-dollar bet you can’t beat him in a game of pool.” Gilly shouts from the pool table. Angel shrugs, waving them off and drinking his beer in silence.

“Angel! Wanna hit the cage?” Riz calls, waving to the door.

“Maybe next time.” He calls back, tipping his beer back again.

“Reyes, wanna fuck around and get arrested?” You call, standing at the door.

“Nah, ‘m goo—“ he spins so fast the bar stool falls from under him and he faces you. “No fuckin’ way.” He murmurs, closing the distance between you in almost three strides, grabbing you and holding you tight against him. He squeezes so hard you start to tap his back, signaling he’s crushing you. “I’m so sorry. Coco told me what really happened. He told me what she did. That she’s deserved to tossed out. I’m really sorry, miel. Tell me how to make it better.” He whispers, letting you pull him outside. The cool night air swirls around the two of you as he looks into your eyes for a moment. He finds a lust and longing he’s not sure how he’d never seen it before.

“Angel, I don’t wanna fuckin’ talk about that shit.” You whisper, shaking your head. “This was a fuckin’ mistake. I knew I shouldn’t have come.” You start towards your Harley, but Angel grabs you and you tumble back to his chest. He leans down and presses a warm kiss to your lips. His hand caressing the curve of your body as he slides down and grips your ass.

Gasping, you grab his neck as he hoists you up. Wrapping your legs around him, he walks the two of you backwards towards the weigh shed. Sitting you on the counter, he grabs the squeaky old swivel chair, dusting it off and pulling down his jeans boxers, his cock hitting his stomach.

“Angel-“

“Take off your shorts, miel. I want you sit on my dick.” He demands, his husky voice washing over you. Stammering, you yank off your shorts and draw your shirt over your head.

“You’re so fucking hot.” You whisper in his ear, the tip of your tongue tracing the outer edge of his ear as he positions himself at your core,, stimulating your swollen clit. Gasping again, you give a soft moan and sink down on his thick, huge cock. “Christ, bet this is just like you dreamed.” You hush, teasing him as you slowly slide up and down.

“It doesn’t even compare, babygirl.” He husks, his hands smoothing up and down your thighs as you ride him, your hair tossed over your shoulder. “Shit, kiss me again, baby. I fuckin’ love you.” He murmurs, pulling you in for another kiss. Slowly you feel the heat pooling in your stomach and you grip his shoulders tightly. “Yes baby, come for me. Come on. Yes, oh fuck.” Your walls pulsate against his throbbing cock as he thrusts up to meet your rolling hips. “I’m close.”

“Cum for me, Angelito. Please. Please come, baby.” You moan in his ear, pushing him over the edge, hot cum filling you and dripping down your thighs.

“Christ, Y/N. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I should’ve just told you how I felt. Fuck, that was amazing.” He whispers, pulling you down to rest against his bare chest, shivering as a cool breeze rustles around you.

“Angel, I really do love you. A lot. I’d do anything for you.”

“I know. I don’t want you beating up any more hookers without me there to cheer you on, babes.” He chuckles, pulling your shirt on and wrapping his plaid around your shoulders.

“Shut up. You should’ve seen me, Angel. I dragged that bitch out by her hair, slammed her into a trunk. Broke her fuckin’ nose. It was badass.” You mockingly swing at his nose, but he sends you into a fit of giggles and blushing as he presses warm sweet kisses to lightly scarred knuckles, holding your fist in his hand as he does so.

“I love you so much, miel.”

“Oh yeah? Mister ‘you’re jealous I dicked boobs for brains and not you’?” You mock, pinching his cheeks as the two of you walk towards the clubhouse, Angel’s arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders.

“I promise you, I definitely fantasized about you doing a lot more than that.” He chuckles, holding the door for you.