#Long Distance Romance in Spanish | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

agendabymooner · 8 months

Text

DIRECTORY: F1 Drivers x Filipino OFCs by AGENDABYMOONER (UPDATED)

AHHH !!! Apparently I made too much Filo OCs (there’s never too much but for some it maybe a lot?). So why not make a little character directory based on the Formula One drivers I’ve written about?

(I am not Filipino baiting I promise 🥲 I make a lot of Filipino OCs because I too am a Filipino)

This is done alphabetically btw. By surnames :) enjoy xx

CHARLES LECLERC (CL16)

LOUELLA LOURDES VILLAR: A Filipino celebrity who met Charles when she moved to Monaco to pursue her masters. Arthur, Charles' brother, calls the two of them "homie hoppers."

"slut", smau: charles' ex trashed his new girlfriend a while ago, but too bad he wasn't really into the thought of making music with anyone but lou villar.

PATO O'WARD (PO29)

DIWA J. ARELLANO: McLaren F1 team's admin who works to constantly slander and support Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris. Also a bit besotted.

caught 'em lacking, smau: diwa arellano is mclaren f1's social media admin. so what if her constant teasing of oscar bites her in the ass and accidentally posts something that could potentially compromise her job? meanwhile, lando and oscar laugh at her demise while pato finds it endearing.

SERGIO PEREZ (SP11)

CARMELLA AYALA PEREZ: Checo’s Miss Universe wife who represented the Philippines!

she's beauty, she's grace, smau: in which carmella ayala perez, the miss universe 2018 winner, tied the knot with checo after their five years of relationship and the birth of their second child.

DANIEL RICCIARDO

TALA MORAN: Daniel Ricciardo's partner that he accidentally exposed as his to the public.

leaked, smau: daniel ricciardo is a borderline blabbermouth.

OSCAR PIASTRI (OP81)

PALOMA SAN PEDRO: Oscar was a victim of Jollibee obsession introduction because he’s so in love with her. She’s also Carlos Sainz’s cousin-in-law.

jollibee, madrid and all that romantic fiasco, smau: paloma san pedro is carlos sainz's cousin-in-law who also introduced oscar to his newly found filipino fast food chain addiction. safe to say that he bought a ticket last minute just so he can obsess over her, too.

live tweets, japan and all that romance fiasco, smau: how oscar's podium win in the japanese gp led to the revelation of his relationship with carlos sainz's in-law, paloma. lesson learned: just call her "pal" then she'll spill the tea for the both of you easily (f, h)

lucky charms, qatar and all that romance fiasco, smau: oscar is quite a forgetful guy, he forgot to mention to carlos, his future in-law, that paloma was his sprint lucky charm. (f)

long distance, england and all that romance fiasco, smau: paloma moved to england a year after enduring a long distance relationship with oscar.

CARLOS SAINZ (CS55)

MAGDALENA SAN PEDRO SAINZ: Married to a Ferrari driver. A bit unhinged and as equally millennial as Carlos. Apparently her marriage with him calls for reparations lol.

ride home, smau: the ferrari driver accidentally outed himself as a married man, so mona magdalena sainz stepped in to say hi to his loyal fans. (f, g, h) (extra)

dear, smau: nobody loved each other more than magda and carlos sainz. OR a series of tweets in which magda and carlos never took each other seriously. (h)

pag-ibig, traducido (love, translated), fic: no matter what cultural context and backstories, magda and carlos' souls were entwined into one all thanks to the languages of love that they shared. OR times when the spanish and filipino defined their love in many languages. (f) ♡

MICK SCHUMACHER (MS47)

BARBIE BLANCO: Sebastian Vettel’s adoptive daughter that Mick practically grew up with.

she's everything... and he's just mick, smau: barbara 'barbie' blanco is the vettel family's foster child that gradually turned to kimi vettel's nanny and mick's crush? (f, g)

"besties", smau: everyone swore that mick and barbie are more than "babysitting pardners" (f)

who is kenough, smau: mick nearly took the piss from arthur leclerc after the posts that the monegasque had of barbie. too bad, mick was already hers before arthur could even try. (feat. arthur leclerc)

kenergy unfolded, fic: written version of who is kenough OR arthur leclerc was only scheming just so mick could do something about revealing his relationship with barbie. ♡

the vibing allan and the reluctant ken, smau: for mick, there are only two words to describe his girlfriend's best friend arthur: a headache. OR arthur leclerc is a third wheel that mick always get on a fight with. thankfully, barbie had fair experiences with boys who are petulant and childish at times (kimi and seb)

extra - barbie and the schuminis

mick multiplied, socmed snapshot: girl dad!mick that's all

the little schuminis, fic: 4 times when mick showed his devotion + 1 time his devotion paid off

YUKI TSUNODA (YT22)

PIA ELLIS: An indie singer who also happens to be Yuki’s much shorter girlfriend.

line without a hook, smau: pia ellis misses her mystery bf that everyone thought to be her delusions. it turns out he's a formula one driver who definitely misses her too.

chaos family, socmed snapshot: yuki is a dad to the little mini yukis known as hana and shin.

SEBASTIAN VETTEL (SV5)

BEL VETTEL: A socialite from Philippines who’s married to the kindest human to have ever existed. Also a mother to Seb’s kids (including Barbie Blanco).

crazy rich wife, smau: everyone (some twitter account) wonders where the recently retired german driver had gone to after the 2022 season. thank god for bel vettel, his fans now know that he’s still alive and is being spoiled and pampered by his wife. (f, g)

sweet spoiled husband (+ son), smau: mick schumacher is a grown man that both bel and seb treat like their own child. (f, g)

sweet spoiled schatzi, smau: bel and seb introduce the newest addition to their little family, and mick seems to love kimi vettel as much as a godfather loves his godchild. (f)

sweet little similarities, smau: bel and everyone could tell that kimi vettel was becoming more like his father, sebastian's, carbon copy as days went on. (f, g, h)

sebastian and sons (and soufflés), fic: day in the life of a retired sebastian vettel, featuring his kids kimi and barbie (and a nervous mick). (f)

sweetest spoiled sons, smau: sebastian was a father to not only two- but THREE kids. OR stefan vettel is the newest addition in the vettel household after years of trying and it's safe to say that everyone welcomed this news with open arms. (f)

crazy rich and famous, smau: the vettel couple stepped up to address the scrutiny that their children faced OR sebastian activated his instagram account just so he could show his masterpiece: photographs that he took of his wife for their anniversary.

seb's best girl, scenarios (x daughter!ofc)

Summary: Sebastian Vettel understood the downfalls of infertility just by being there for his wife. What he didn’t know, however, was that his life would drastically change when their foster daughter, Barbie Blanco, was put into their care. OR, what made Sebastian the best father figure to a teenager who had nobody but herself.

one, enter barbie: fifteen-year-old barbie blanco thought that meeting new people was intimidating, and sebastian learned that making her comfortable in her new home was a responsibility he should uphold as her father figure.

two, meeting mick in malaysia: barbie was brought to her first race ever and had met her newest best friends there. it was obvious that she and mick schumacher would get stuck to the hips after their first meeting.

#formula one imagine #formula one fic #formula one x oc #f1 smau #formula one masterlist #f1 masterlist #sebastian vettel x oc #carlos sainz x oc #oscar piastri x oc #mick schumacher x oc #yuki tsunoda x oc #sergio perez x oc #f1 x oc #fic directory #f1 drivers x oc

91 notes · View notes

talonabraxas · 4 months

Text

Planet Jupiter: Correspondences, Magick & Astrology ♃

Correspondences

Colors Associated with Jupiter

Violet, rich purple, blue, yellow.

Plants associated with Jupiter

Jupiter plants are usually large and bold or darkly colored and often have meaty, wholesome and nutrient-dense fruit. Jupiter flowers and fruit are often yellow.

The effects of Jupiter plants include a general feeling of warmth and contented relaxation.

Minerals Associated with the Planet Jupiter

Minerals associated with Jupiter promote connection with the divine and higher states of consciousness, enhances luck and encourages leadership qualities and success. Jupiter stones are the stones of royalty.

Some examples of minerals that correspond to the energy of Jupiter include: tin, Amethyst, Lepidolite, Sugilite, Lapis Lazuli, Sapphire, Diamond

Deities Associated with the planet Jupiter

Jupiter is associated most often with male deities, particularly those identified as King of the Gods who rule over storms, the sky, the wind and fatherhood.

Adonai, Tzevaot, Amon-Ra, Changó, Dagda, Indra, Itzamna, Izanagi, Jove, Jumala, Kitchki, Manitou, Nuada, Num, Odin, Ran, Reshpu, Ukko, Uwolowu, Viracocha, Vishnu, Were, Jehovah, Jupiter, Yu-Wang-S

The Planet Jupiter in Astrology

Jupiter is the ruling planet of Sagittarius, and Pisces according to some. In Roman mythology, Jupiter was the ruler of the gods (having overthrown Saturn) and their guardian and protector, and his symbol was the thunderbolt. In the same way, the planet Jupiter is the king of the other planets, a giant in size with spectacular, brightly colored clouds and intense storms.

Astronomers believe that it plays an important protecting role in using its massive gravity to capture or expel from the solar system many comets and asteroids that would otherwise threaten Earth and the inner planets. Jupiter takes 11.9 years to orbit the sun, spending almost an earth year (361 days) in each sign of the zodiac.

Astrologically Jupiter is associated with the principles of growth, expansion, prosperity and good fortune; and a person’s inner sense of justice and morality and their ideals and higher goals. Jupiter governs long distance and foreign travel, higher education, religion, and the law.

In modern times Jupiter is said to be the ruler of the 9th and 12th houses, but traditionally Jupiter was assigned to the 2nd and 9th houses (the house of values and the house of beliefs, respectively) and had ��joy’ in the 11th house of friends and aspirations.

Jupiter is associated with Thursday, and in Romance languages, the name for Thursday often comes from Jupiter (for example, Jueves in Spanish or Jeudi in French). Dante Alighieri associated Jupiter with the liberal art of geometry.

In Chinese astrology, Jupiter is ruled by the element wood, which is warm, generous and co-operative. In Indian astrology, Jupiter is known as Guru or Brihaspati and is known as the ‘great teacher’.

Jupiter in Medicine

In medicine Jupiter is associated with the liver, pituitary gland and the disposition of fats; it governed the blood / sanguine humor.

33 notes · View notes

santoschristos · 4 months

Text

Planet Jupiter: Correspondences, Magick & Astrology ♃

Correspondences

Colors Associated with Jupiter

Violet, rich purple, blue, yellow.

Plants associated with Jupiter

Jupiter plants are usually large and bold or darkly colored and often have meaty, wholesome and nutrient-dense fruit. Jupiter flowers and fruit are often yellow.

The effects of Jupiter plants include a general feeling of warmth and contented relaxation.

Minerals Associated with the Planet Jupiter

Some examples of minerals that correspond to the energy of Jupiter include: tin, Amethyst, Lepidolite, Sugilite, Lapis Lazuli, Sapphire, Diamond

Deities Associated with the planet Jupiter

Jupiter is associated most often with male deities, particularly those identified as King of the Gods who rule over storms, the sky, the wind and fatherhood.

Adonai, Tzevaot, Amon-Ra, Changó, Dagda, Indra, Itzamna, Izanagi, Jove, Jumala, Kitchki, Manitou, Nuada, Num, Odin, Ran, Reshpu, Ukko, Uwolowu, Viracocha, Vishnu, Were, Jehovah, Jupiter, Yu-Wang-S

The Planet Jupiter in Astrology Jupiter is the ruling planet of Sagittarius, and Pisces according to some. In Roman mythology, Jupiter was the ruler of the gods (having overthrown Saturn) and their guardian and protector, and his symbol was the thunderbolt. In the same way, the planet Jupiter is the king of the other planets, a giant in size with spectacular, brightly colored clouds and intense storms.

In modern times Jupiter is said to be the ruler of the 9th and 12th houses, but traditionally Jupiter was assigned to the 2nd and 9th houses (the house of values and the house of beliefs, respectively) and had ‘joy’ in the 11th house of friends and aspirations.

In Chinese astrology, Jupiter is ruled by the element wood, (☆Wood Dragon) which is warm, generous and co-operative. In Indian astrology, Jupiter is known as Guru or Brihaspati and is known as the ‘great teacher’.

Jupiter in Medicine In medicine Jupiter is associated with the liver, pituitary gland and the disposition of fats; it governed the blood / sanguine humor.

24 notes · View notes

redahlia-writes · 1 year

Text

poema xiv. | javier peña

Abstract: When you saw him from the stage, it felt like the world had stopped moving - there was you, and him, and the space between you needing to be filled. Years gone by without the other and still you haven’t been able to stay away from him for more than twenty minutes - not when he looked at you like that, like nobody else was in the room. Not when his lips moved and mimicked yours, and the words you’d once shared became yours all over again.

You hadn’t thought it’d end like this. You hadn’t planned it. But how could you ever be parted from Javier?

Words: 6.6K

Content: f!reader; second chance romance, a smidge of angst and guilt, so much kissing, smut (fingering, unprotected sex, some descriptions of bodily fluids)

A/N: the poem is love poem xiv by pablo neruda (english translation + an analysis i think about daily and have based most of the fic on); spanish translation for the bits that are not part of the poem will be at the end

also on AO3 - masterlist

feedback is always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

Javier knows your voice better than his own.

For years, he’s heard that voice in the back of his mind - he recognises the tilt of it, the cadence, the drawl. He recognises the words, an old litany that seems to come from a dream. Even before he turns towards the stage, he knows it’ll be you. It shouldn’t surprise him, really - this was your home as much as it was his. He just didn’t expect you to be here, still.

He wonders whether you’ll recognise him, too, if you’ll even see him - it’s a short lived thought, because when he looks up at last, you’re already looking back at him, words falling from your lips like a chant, a dizzying siren song. For a moment, he wants to flee, thinks he cannot stay and face you, not after all these years - but there’s a warm recognition in your eyes, a quivering to the corners of your lips, and he feels at home at last.

You’re sitting cross-legged on the stage, a long skirt he remembers from your days together draped over you and pooling around you - he hasn’t had much time for art these past years, yet at any time he would look at you and see a painting, something so moving it could bring him to his knees. Perhaps it has, in the past.

You’re not even holding a microphone, the whole place fell silent the moment you’ve reached the stage, eyes turned towards you in reverence - it happened before, he knows, and he missed it. Over and over he’s lost these moments of religiosity, just when he needed it the most. He grips his beer as he listens to your voice, hangs onto each word like a lifeline.

“Mis palabras llovieron sobre ti acariciándote. / Amé desde hace tiempo tu cuerpo de nácar soleado. / Hasta te creo dueña del universo. / Te traeré de las montañas flores alegres, copihues, / avellanas oscuras, y cestas silvestres de besos.”

He’d almost forgotten these words, but as they echo through the place he’s pulled back to another night - less people, less distance between the two of you, a book propped up on your naked back as he read with a smile on his lips, watching as you dozed off, the tip of his fingers tracing the line of your spine with a goosebumps-inducing slow touch.

“Quiero hacer contigo / lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos.”

He mouths the last line with you, remembrance of those same words kissed into the skin of your shoulder, arm, wrist, a sleepy smile his reward as you caressed his cheek. It feels like he’s remembering a past life, yet the images are crystal clear as if they happened just a day before. He chugs down on his beer to quench the memories.

You’ve looked at him through your eyelashes during the whole performance, but at the first burst of clapping your face breaks into a wide smile, head bowed in silent thanks as people you’ve known most of your life cheer you, embrace you with their appreciation - Javier doesn’t join them, a pang of something like a heavy weight on his chest making him turn back around towards the bartender, empty beer at his side as he calls for something stronger. Whiskey, or rum, or mezcal.

“Hello, stranger,” the first sip is accompanied by the voice from his dreams, and he closes his eyes as your body slips into the seat next to his. He’s holding his breath, the alcohol burning his tongue, the roof of his mouth, and his throat when he finally gulps it down.

“Didn’t think you’d still be here,” he murmurs, at last turning to look at you. How often has he wished it would happen? Sitting at a bar so far away from home, he’d turn his head and see you there, smiling at him the way you are in that moment, greeting him with a I missed you and I’ve come for you. Daydreams induced by alcohol, he knew, perhaps the only thing keeping him sane when he missed you the most. “Hi,” he says then.

“And where else could I have gone?” your hand wraps around a glass he hasn’t heard you call for, the drink familiar, always the same - gold mezcal, clean, drank in small sips similar to small kisses. He’s tried to chase the taste of you with it when he was away, but it never felt the same as when he tasted it from your lips.

“You?” he scoffs, shaking his head a little as he lets the ice in his drink rattle softly against the glass. “Anywhere in the world.”

There’s a moment of silence, surprise overtaking your features at the corner of his eyes, fingers curling around the glass - and then you scoff lightly, turning your head so you’re not looking at him anymore. He can see your free hand curling over your knee, a fidgeting motion with the fabric of the skirt that covers your leg whole.

“I stayed,” you say with a shrug, and he knows there’s no malice but he cannot help hearing something more. I stayed and you didn’t. You left me behind. And then, “I missed you, Javi.”

The weight of the world drops on his shoulders and he lets go of his glass, white knuckles turning back to their color as an exhale leaves him. His hand rests on the bar counter and, after a beat of hesitation, you reach for him in silence - you know he’s heard you, can see it in the pout of his lips, the slouch of his shoulders.

“I missed you, too,” he whispers, like a confession meant for a Church and its priest, heavy on his alcohol-coated tongue. Your fingers wrap around his hand, tender yet decisive, squeezing it as he meets your eyes at last - your smile feels like a reward he does not deserve, but it eases the ache in his ribcage. “You were great up there - this place needs a little poetry, every now and then.”

“Ah, I just like to get drunk and have people looking at me for a little while,” you’re beaming, leaning in a little - he knows you’re not drunk, knows it’ll take more than the drink in front of you to get there, too. You’re still holding his hand, thumb rubbing his knuckles absent-mindedly, and it feels like no time has passed, and slipping into the familiarity of your touch is scarily easy. “How are you, Javier?”

“Holding up,” you quirk up an eyebrow at him - it’s not a lie, he thinks, because he couldn’t lie to you, you still know him too well. It’s too easy for you to call him out on his bullshit, and he cannot deal with that tonight, so he sighs. “It’s odd, being back. Slow.”

“I thought Chucho would’ve put you to work right away,” you chuckle, and slowly move your hand away from his. His fingers twitch on their own accord, squeezing your hand once before letting go of you, and he looks away for a moment as he clears his throat.

“Oh, he did,” he nods with a tilted smirk, tapping once, twice the glass, ice half-way melted already. “But it’s - easy. I get to bed and actually sleep, perhaps a little sore, but not -” he stops himself, holding the glass a little tighter. “Doesn’t matter, no point boring you with it.”

“When have you ever bored anyone in your life?” you scoff, and he can see you swinging your legs a little from the high stool, heel tapping the wooden legs as you tilt your head to the side a little. “What is it?” you ask then, gentler.

You still know him too well.

“We’re gonna be here all night, tesoro,” he almost grumbles, the endearment rolling off his tongue before he can think too much about it. You shrug again, picking up your glass and crossing your legs - it’s a dangerous display of balance, skirt covering part of the stool as your knees jut outwards.

“I have nowhere else to be,” you declare, sipping slowly at the drink. Small kisses, he thinks.

Javier knows he could lay himself bare in front of you - he wants to - and you’d take him as he is, even after all these years, even after all the hurt. Yours, his. What you and Javier had has always been complicated - it was love never made explicit; it was comfort and holding each other all through the night; it was passion that scorched the both of you and left indelible marks on your skins; it was meals filled with laughter; it was his father wondering if he was going to need his mother’s ring.

And then it was all over, the feelings still there, overwhelmingly so, but the distance too great, the fear of impossibility too big and crushing. It was a quiet break-up neither of you really wanted but that seemed like the only solution, and it left a sour taste in your mouths. It was a quick, cold goodbye regretted by both parties - you wished you’d hold him tighter, he wished he’d kissed you longer. Selfishly, you’d wished he’d stay, he’d wished you’d go with him.

That was, until he’d actually started working, and life had become a nightmare. It made him glad you stayed behind, even if it pained him. Even if it meant he could no longer sleep.

That’s what he starts with - how difficult it was to actually sleep there, how each hour was frantic, day or night bleeding into each other, no sense of routine marking the days, weeks, months, years. He won’t go into details, he doesn’t want you to know what it was like, but the drinks keep coming and he cannot help leaning into your support, aching from the knowledge that you’re listening to him, and your hand has found his again, soothing circles making his skin burn.

The monologue turns into conversation, his need to be distracted by the past years presenting in questions of your current life - your work, your home, your parents. The place starts emptying around the two of you, and one or the other is drawing closer, because now your legs are off the stool again and he’s sitting right between your knees, one hand on your thigh, head tilted leaning on his other hand as he looks at you, so close as you are.

He missed you, the truth of the statement was not lost on him before, but it hits him right in the chest when you reach over to brush your thumb across his mustache, smiling as you mock him over his lack of ability to keep crumbs off of his face from the nibbles stolen from behind the counter, an apologetic look turned in the bartender’s direction. It makes his heart jump in his chest, it makes him wonder if he should get up and get as far away from you before he does something you both might regret. And then -

“Javi?” your hand rests atop his on your leg, breathlessly calling his name until he meets your gaze. “Will you drive me home?”

He remembers how it all began - just like this. A drink, two, chatting, getting closer, will you drive me home? That night, you barely made it home - he stopped the car in the middle of nowhere and kissed you, kissed you, kissed you until you dragged him to the backseat, laughing and panting as you barely got some of your clothes off. He fell for you there and then, he knows.

“Yes,” he says, because he missed you so terribly much, and he’s tired, and though he can sleep again it’s never as good as when he slept next to you. So he holds your hand as you get off the stool, walk through the bar, get outside and sigh at the cooler air, tipping your chin back to let the night wash over you.

He leads you to his car, fingers still intertwined, and before he can reach for the door you turn to him, so close he can feel the hem of your skirt brush the top of his shoes. His gaze unwillingly falls to your mouth, and you’re smiling, free hand reaching up for him. He doesn’t hear it, just reads it on your lips - come here, as you tug gently at the collar of his shirt, and he’s leaning forward without need for further instructions.

Javier kisses you - he doesn’t start slow, lips crashing onto yours. It’s desperate and needy, as if he fears it’ll be over too soon, as if he thinks you’ll disappear any moment now and he needs to take and take and take as much as he can, prodding at your mouth with his tongue until you yield, parting your lips for him with a sigh.

Your back is pressed against the side of his car, the hand not holding his reaching up to sink into his hair - it’s homecoming, each piece of you fitting together, your bodies remembering each and every part, each and every movement.

Neither of you wants to break it off, his hand carefully dipping underneath your shirt as he presses himself into you further and further, your head craned back and resting against the glass of the car, arm hooked around his shoulder for balance. Eventually, your lungs demand air, the world blurred with dizziness once he parts with a gasp - and immediately dives his head back down, open mouthed kisses left along your cheek, and jaw, and neck. It’s easy to succumb to the bliss of his touch, letting yourself be pulled back in time as his lips mold to the curve of your neck when you tilt your head to the side, exposing yourself to him furthermore.

“Did you ever think of me? When you were away?” it slips from your lips before you can stop yourself, a pathetic whine that makes you tense for a moment, eyes opening wide, and then -

“Every day,” he replies, kissing his way across your collarbones, hands gripping your waist so tightly it’s almost painful. You relish in it, the ache that keeps you grounded, that reminds you it’s real, he’s here. “It was unbearable.”

And then he stops, so sudden it makes you gasp when his forehead hits your shoulder, a heavy exhale caressing your skin. He’s still gripping your hip, still pressed harshly against you, but every motion has stopped - he’s perfectly still, almost not breathing.

“Javi?” you whisper, turning your head as much as possible. Your chin brushes the side of his head, and his only acknowledgment of having heard you is a squeeze to your side. Slowly, you drag your hand up the nape of his neck, through his hair again, a gentler caress. “Javi, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -”

“I’ve missed you every day,” he lifts his head a little, and you stand cheek to cheek as his chest heaves. “But I’m not who I used to be.”

“Neither am I,” his hair spikes up under your touch, and he leans into you to the point you feel your breath shorten. You don't mind it that much. “But you’re still my Javi underneath all that,” he shudders, something between a sigh and a sob leaving his parted lips. “And we can just try.”

Time stretches as you hold onto each other, the parking lot almost too dark for comfort, and then he kisses your cheek - it’s chaste, quick, then moves up to your forehead and lingers there as your eyes flutter shut.

“Let’s go home,” you say in another whisper, and he nods ever so slightly, lips still brushing your skin as he eases his hold on you.

It takes him a moment longer to take a step back, and without his support your body feels weightless. You squeeze his hand still in yours, a reassurance for the both of you, and his lips - raw and red from kissing - bend in a little smile as he opens the door for you. Then it’s you lingering before stepping inside, still refusing to let go of his hand - as you do, he bends over and leans into the car, pressing yet another kiss to your lips that you chase with a sigh of surrender.

Javier’s smiling when he climbs into the driver’s seat - a little one, that spreads the redness of his cheeks further. The alcohol, the kissing, the tender touches - he feels as if his heart might burst out of his chest, and he’s quick to drive out of the parking lot, one hand immediately reaching for you.

His hand rests on your thigh, thumb rubbing circles above your knee and wrinkling the fabric of the skirt mindlessly - it’s a comforting touch, its heavy weight familiar and soothing hat has you melting into the seat with another sigh, eyes fluttering shut as your head tilts slightly to the side and you part your legs ever so slightly. Your muscles twitch, encouraging him forward, and though his eyes remain fixed on the road - it’s not a long way to your house, and Javier seemed determined to make it even shorter - he chuckles, squeezing the soft flesh of your inner thigh in earnest.

“Tan impaciente,” he hums, but obliges, curling his fingers around the fabric of the skirt until it’s bunched up enough for him to slip his hand underneath. You’re still my Javi - teasing and willing, warm hands knowing exactly where and how to move, a slow drag of his fingertips across your inner thigh as you lean further into the seat, head tipped back - that has him slow the car down a little.

Javier’s touch is electrifying, brushing all the right places as he moves up and up and up, shapeless figures dancing across your skin until he reaches your core. His grip on the wheel tightens as he presses two fingers above your underwear, eliciting a soft gasp from you. He doesn’t linger - he never has, he’s never been mean with it, always reaching for your pleasure before anything else. So he pushes your underwear aside, and drags one finger across your already damp folds with a soft groan until he reaches the apex of your core.

Your body reacts as it always has, writhing under his touch quietly, mouth agape as he rubs at your clit, slow circles with just the right amount of pressure. It’s almost fascinating how, even after the time spent away from each other, he has not forgotten how to make you fall apart on the tip of his fingers, roll by gentle roll, wetness spreading over his fingertips as he quickly glances at you - eyes hooded and hands gripping the sides of the seat, hips rolling to second his movements.

“Eyes on the road, Peña,” you warn breathlessly, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth before your lips part in a quiet gasp, twitching into his touch. “God - right there, right -”

It hits you suddenly, a rippling sensation that starts from the stomach all the way down to your toes, back arching slightly against the backrest of the seat as you grind down on his hand, a silent orgasm that has your chest heaving, mouth open in a silent cry. Javier can’t stop himself from looking away from the road, still touching you slowly, dipping down and down where you’re clenching around nothing.

“Diosa,” he says almost under his breath, and your eyes - that had fallen shut, heavy-lidded - open to look back at him. You wrap your hand around his wrist, pulling him away from you - your knees knock together almost right away, legs numb and shaky. He’s looking at the road again, but glances at the corner of his eye as you bring his hand to your mouth - a gentle kiss against the pad of his fingers first before wrapping your lips around his digits, lapping at your own release with hollowed cheeks. Javier groans again, shifting a little in his seat as he grips the wheel tighter, thumb stroking your cheek down to the corner of your mouth. “We ain’t gonna make it to your house if you keep this up, tesoro.”

You release him with a soft pop, leaning a little towards him so that your cheek is resting against the back of his hand, eyes lifted to keep looking at his profile while the hand wrapped around his wrist moves up along his arm.

“Don’t care,” you hum, hand now brushing the side of his neck - his throat bobs, an askew smirk making its way across his lips yet again. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” you add with a grin of your own, gently scratching the nape of his neck - he shifts in his seat again, rolling back his shoulders.

“I do care,” he turns his head, kisses your wrist, a gentle brush of lips and his mustache tickling your skin. “I want -” the words hole up in his throat, and he leaves one last caress with his knuckles across your jaw before moving his hand away.

I want to take it slow, peel away each layer - one by one, with no rush; I want to lay you bare on a bed and kiss each and every inch of your skin, mark you as my own all over again; I want you over and under and all around and hold you in my arms and feel you fall apart again; I want, I want, I want.

“You,” he manages to say, voice so soft it’s almost drowned out by the engine as he pushes down on the accelerator a little. “Time. I want you and time. Not like this,” he sighs when you brush his hair back, a curving motion in tucking a wild strand behind his ear as it sticks out. In truth, he could stop the car and crumble underneath your touch, but he’s aching for more, for all. He reaches over, pulling your skirt down so it falls back in place over your legs.

And it does not take long to get to your house - because he called you impatient, but every bit of him feels on fire, eager and longing for you, so close, so close, your hand so warm where it’s resting still on his neck, and it’s driving him insane.

So when he parks in front of your place - just like he remembers it, down to the plants on the porch -, he’s out of the car almost before he’s even shut the engine off, and while you’re reaching for the keys he’s there behind you, arms wrapped tightly around you, hands slipping underneath your shirt. One rests against your stomach, the other trails up and up and up, a low chuckle leaving you as you step towards the entrance, steps long and wobbly with the added weight of Javier.

“I still have neighbors, Javi,” you hum as his lips latch to your neck, tilting your head a little to leave more room for his open-mouthed kisses, the tender bites that leave red marks that will be gone by morning. “I would like for them to still think nicely of me,” your front pushes against the door as he presses himself into you - broad shoulders encasing you, hands still exploring and straining the buttons of your shirt, stomach and thighs and his length trapped in his tight jeans hard against you.

“Not the first time we’ve given a little spectacle,” he replies, his whisper a warm breath against your ear that makes you shudder as you unlock the door at last.

As soon as the door clicks open, he’s pushing the both of you inside, maneuvering you around so that he can crash his mouth on yours - he shuts the door just as you drop your keys, reaching with both your arms up and around his shoulders, pushing his jacket down a little. Again he doesn’t kiss you slowly, as if picking up from where you left it in the parking lot - open-mouthed, tongue brushing the roof of your mouth with a groan as he backs you towards the bedroom.

“Shoes,” you warn - remind him, really, kicking yours off before leaning back into the kiss, one hand tangling in his hair as the other falls back down to his chest, working on the buttons of his shirt. He chuckles against your mouth but obliges, steps faltering as he removes his shoes without breaking away from you.

After that, it’s a dance through the house, chasing each other as each layer gets shed and dropped mindlessly to the floor - his jacket and shirt, your skirt, his belt, your shirt, his jeans. By the time you reach the bedroom there’s a trail of clothes left in your path, and the two of you stand still kissing in your underwear, hands mapping each other’s skin eagerly. It’s all consuming, dizzying, and as he undoes the clasp of your bra you’re backing him into the bed until he falls seated on the edge of it, breaking the kiss at last.

Panting, pupils dilated, he looks up at you, his hands fallen to the back of your thighs to nudge you forward. He licks his lips as you take off your bra, too, squeezing your legs once as a half-groan leaves his parted mouth. And then -

“This is new,” he tilts his head a little, eyes trained on your left side. He takes his hand away from your thigh, cupping your ribs as his thumb brushes right underneath your breast, the touch so delicate it has a shiver run down your spine. He traces a circle around the tattoo now adorning your skin, a single cherry blossom that’s starting to fade.

“I was drunk,” you shrug, hands resting on his shoulders. He leans in a little, pulling you forward at the same time, your knees hitting the edge of the mattress in between his thighs. “I forget it’s there half the time,” you admit, and sigh when he kisses the thin lines, dropping your head back. “Javi.”

He adds nothing but a hum, the tip of his tongue darting out to taste your skin, down your ribcage, down and forward to your stomach and down again, following the line of your underwear before stopping at your hip bone. He hooks one finger underneath each side of the last piece of fabric, bringing it down enough to nip the soft skin there, eliciting a small gasp out of you as he finishes undressing you fully.

His gaze lingers for just a moment before you’re climbing into his lap, sitting on his thighs as a hand finds its way through his hair again, pulling his head back gently until he’s looking up at you, lips parted - he can feel your heat against him, the remainder of what happened in the car dripping down your thighs and settling onto him. Unable to help himself, he grins, though it quickly vanishes when you lower your mouth to his all over again.

He could get lost in this - the feeling of your kisses, the taste of your lips, the way you’re slowly rocking against him, creating just enough friction between the two of you that it makes his head spin, your thighs shake lightly, but leaves you tethering on the edge. So he wraps one arm around your waist, holding you against him, and flips the two of you around so that your back is on the mattress, legs dangling from the bed and quickly reaching up to lock him in as he steps out of his underwear.

He kneels on the bed, guiding you back and holding his weight above you as he moves, hard length brushing your folds with each shift, causing both of you to sigh and groan and plea, hands searching desperately for something to hold on - his shoulders, the sheets, his hair, your hand - until he settles both of you exactly where he wants you to be, in the middle of the bed, covers ruffled already underneath you. One of his hands dips between the two of you, wrapping around his length to align himself with your entrance.

“Can I -” he’s breathless, hazy eyes wandering across your body underneath his as if it were a dream, a mirage, something he can’t quite believe just yet. “Sì,” you urge, arching into him, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Yes, Javi, please.”

He gasps as he sinks into you, mouth hanging open as he forces himself to keep his eyes on you, on your expression, his movements slowly as you open your legs furthermore to accommodate him, gasping breaths making your chest heave. And then he’s toppling over, head falling into the crook of your neck as he mouths at the skin, hips stuttering when you clench around him and drag your nails down his back.

“Te extrañé,” he whispers against you, words drowned by your keening as he pushes himself forward - so he repeats it, over and over until the words are etched into your skin. “Te extrañé, te extrañé, mi amor, mi querida - fuck. Te extrañé.”

He groans when he presses himself flush against you, a shuddering in his breath that ripples across your shoulder and makes you hold him tighter with a weak cry, back arching into him - your eyes flutter shut, stars dotting your vision as the line of pain and pleasure blurs, vanishes, and your body recognises him. You’re trembling when both your arms wrap around him, holding him tight against you, legs braced at each side of him.

“Darling, my darling,” you’re cooing, hand brushing the side of his head, and there are tears dwelling at the corners of your closed eyes because you had forgotten how his weight over you felt, how familiar and comforting it was - still is. “I’ve missed you, too. I -” you gasp when his hips shift, rutting into you and pushing you a little higher on the bed. “Así.”

“Yes?” he seeks confirmation, pulling his head up from the curve of your neck - his hand moves up, ghosting your neck before cupping your jaw as you’re nodding, bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you grip his shoulders harsher. “Mirame, tesoro. I need to see you,” he pushes his thumb a little into the juncture of your jaw, and your mouth hangs open - heavy breaths fall from your lips as you force your eyes to flutter open.

You’re breathing into each other as he starts to move, agonizingly slow at first - he pulls his hips back until he's almost fully out of you, and then, still slow, buries himself back in until he's pressed flush against you. Back and forth, back and forth, the drag making you feel each part of him, and he kisses the corners of your eyes, kisses the tears away.

Time and you, he said - I want time and you. So he’s taking his time, and it's maddening and oh-so-good. You trace his face with the tip of your fingers, something you used to do when he was asleep in the early mornings and you’d wake up before him, committing to your memory each bump, each curve, each shape.

He kisses the pads of your fingers when you trace the line of his lips, then wraps them around your thumb, sucking it into his mouth. There’s nothing provocative to it - it’s another attempt to be close to you, closer. It’s what the whole night has been about.

When you saw him from the stage, it felt like the world had stopped moving - there was you, and him, and the space between you needing to be filled. Years gone by without the other and still you haven’t been able to stay away from him for more than twenty minutes - not when he looked at you like that, like nobody else was in the room. Not when his lips moved and mimicked yours, and the words you’d once shared became yours all over again.

You hadn’t thought it’d end like this. You hadn’t planned it. But how could you ever be parted from Javier?

He picks up his pace, gasping when his hips snap against yours and you keen, the sound sending a ripple down his spine, the burning in the pit of his stomach brighter. The movements are smooth, slick gathering between your bodies - his, yours, it’s impossible to discern in that moment. It’s all just noise, skin against skin and sighs and moans and suddenly there is no telling where you end and he begins.

Javier, his name from your lips, over and over, and he kisses it right from your mouth - you try to keep him close, arm wrapped around his shoulders, try to arch into him to get just a little more, meeting his thrusts half-way. Por favor, Javi. Javi. My Javi.

He straightens his back with a strangled moan, heavy-lidded eyes looking down towards you as you writhe against him - his thighs press into yours as he pulls you closer by the hips, one hand staying there to keep guiding your rocking against him while the other shifts up, brushing your tattoo again. The new angle has you shuddering, knees pressing harshly into his sides as you moan, back still arched, each muscle going taunt.

“Diosa,” he repeats, out of breath, gaze wandering down your body as his thrusts start to falter, and it’s now mostly a rocking against each other, desperately seeking your release. He groans when his gaze falls to the place your bodies meet, the mess you’ve made of each other - and he can see himself shifting inside you, his hand moving down from your ribs to your lower stomach, pressing down.

You squeeze around him as you’re coming, orgasm washing over you so suddenly it knocks the breath out of your lungs and you’re grasping for him, back and shoulders and head lifting off the mattress as you reach for his shoulders, arms, anything to hold onto to as your whole body seizes and shakes against him, vision flashing white. He hooks one arm around you, sitting back on his heels and pulling you tight into his chest, letting you ride out your high with a string of curses and heavy panting, gushing around him, and then -

“Inside,” you mutter into his chest, leaving marks down his back he hopes never fade. “Want you inside, Javi. I want to feel you,” there’s a pleading note in your voice, a whine that drags on as he tumbles over the edge with one last thrust at your words.

A broken moan escapes him, his eyes falling shut as he muffles it into the crook of your neck, biting the soft skin there. The whole room is spinning, and he’s holding you so tightly he can feel the shift of your ribs as you tilt your head a little, trembling hand coming up to his hair to comb it back as his own orgasm goes on and on and he’s twitching inside of you until he’s spent, and still he holds onto you while you cradle his head, regaining your breaths.

You remain like that a while longer, your releases dripping down yours and his thighs, the thin layer of sweat formed making everything the more sticky - and yet he doesn’t mind it one bit, because he feels calm, at peace at last, with the sound of your heart beating under his ear, and your fingers brush his hair at the side of his head. He’s fallen asleep countless times under that same touch, and his breathing slowly starts to even out.

“Still with me?” you call in a hum, thumb tracing the shell of his ear. His forehead falls to your chest with a softer groan, arms tightening around you even more if possible, and you smile while resting your chin on top of his head. “Javi?”

“Why that poem?” his voice is low, warm breath fanning across your skin - unable to help yourself, you snort, moving your head back to look down at him. He keeps his forehead to your skin, the tip of his nose brushing your sternum.

“Are you seriously asking this right now?” he nods a little, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he kisses your chest once before tilting his head back to meet your gaze - his eyes are dark and impossibly soft, delicate smile grazing his mouth. You sigh, hand caressing down his jaw before hooking your index underneath his chin to guide his head a little higher. “Because it reminded me of you - of us,” you admit softly, and he brushes his lips to yours.

He guides you back towards the mattress, movements slow and careful, but remains so close the friction brings a whine to your lips, and he kisses you again in apology, his weight pinning you down to the bed.

“Why?” he asks, voice still hoarse, and keeps kissing your jaw, your neck, hand wandering down to hitch your leg up his side - he doesn’t move, ever so careful with you, but still peppers your skin in gentle, mind-numbing kisses.

“Mientras el viento triste galopa matando mariposas / yo te amo, y mi alegría muerde tu boca de ciruela,” he lingers above your heart, gaze lifting towards you as he nips the soft flesh of your breast, gaining a small gasp from you and your fingers tugging at his hair without pulling him away. Yo te amo, you repeat under your breath, before continuing. “Cuanto te habrá dolido acostumbrarte a mí, / a mi alma sola y salvaje, a mi nombre que todos ahuyentan,” the first time you heard this was with his voice, mere weeks before he was gone. It stuck in your mind almost painfully, a constant reminder of his absence - that was what you had to get accustomed to. “Hemos visto arder tantas veces el lucero besándonos los ojos / y sobre nuestras cabezas destorcerse los crepúsculos en abanicos girantes.”

The late nights bled into early mornings, sunrises spent outside in the circle of his arms, or the first morning lights waking both of you up because you’d forgotten to close the blinds, too taken with the other - he doesn’t need to be reminded. He doesn’t need further explanation. Javier has never been too eloquent, so instead he kisses his affection across your skin, caressing you with reverence, and just a few words fall from his bruised lips.

“También yo te amo,” another whispered confession, this time for you only. And furthermore, “I’m sorry.”

“Javier,” you guide him up again, until the tip of your nose is brushing his and you cup his cheeks, a gentle brush of your thumbs across his skin as you lean in. “Tú estás aquí. Ah tú no huyes,” you whisper with a smile, and he chases another kiss but you turn your head, causing him to whine. “Tú me responderás hasta el último grito,” he pulls up, hand resting by your head. “I could never resent you, nor regret you - I just missed you. But you’re here now.”

“I’m staying,” he all but blurts out - and he knows it’ll be complicated. He knows you’re different people. He knows it’ll take time, and work. But you’re smiling up at him in such a way it makes his whole body warm again, and his heart beats a little faster.

Afterwards he picks you up again and carries you to the bathroom, deaf to your complaints but not to the laughter you reward him with as he props you up on the sink to clean you up, to kiss each and every spot he’s grabbed a little too harshly - inner thighs and hips and jaw, and time stretches on before he lays you back onto the bed without its discarded sheets, nestling into your side right away because he’s staying, he knows, as long as you’ll have him, as long as you’ll welcome him into your arms.

Perhaps this time he’ll ask his father for that ring.

spanish - english translation: tesoro: darling tan impaciente: so impatient diosa: (lit. goddess) beautiful sì: yes te extrañé: i missed you mi amor: my love mi querida: my dear así: like that mirame: look at me por favor: please también yo te amo: i love you too

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x ofc #javier pena x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena x ofc #pedro pascal characters

185 notes · View notes

laxmiree · 1 year

Text

[CN] MLQC Lucien’s Entrapment date translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

“The artist once hoped to put the butterfly on a glass cover and keep it with him forever. But later, he discovered that even when he let the butterfly go, it flew back to him.”

“It gave him happiness he had never felt or imagined before.”

“I love you.”

“Everything about you, every time you approach me... makes my heart beat excitedly.”

“It makes me fall in love with you again and again... for countless times.”

Translation under cut

(T/N: VERY RECOMMENDED TO HEAR THE VOICE ACTING, ESP THE I LOVE YOU BC IT’S JUST *clenches fist* SO GOOD. BLESS XIA LEI FOR GIVING US THE MOST TENDER, LOVING, AND SEXIEST 我爱你. Anyway I subtitle this date on youtube(turn on CC!) and don’t forget to come back here if you want to read my rambling slash analysis about this date if you want to, I’ll put it on the bottom part of this post-)

[Part 1]

A breeze blew the balcony curtain, and the clear blue sky was intermittently visible through the gap.

The light and shadow of the lamp brushed over the meals on the table and also reflected on Lucien's clear and elegant profile.

I withdrew my gaze and gently rubbed my coffee cup. After a few moments, I couldn't refrain from sneaking another glance at Lucien.

I heard a soft sound of metal touching the porcelain plate. Lucien put down the knife with a faint smile in his voice.

Lucien: Seems like MC has been secretly watching me since this morning.

Lucien: Is there something you want to talk about?

My small movement got busted. I paused a little and calmly denied it.

MC: ...Nothing, I'm just a little curious about your current condition.

MC: After being together for so long, I rarely see you drink as much as you did last night…

[Flashback start]

Some time ago, our work at hand came to an end, and we finally had a chance to relax.

With the intention of unwinding, we arranged a vacation to the city where a classic romance movie was set.

It was Valentine's Day, and romantic decorations could be seen all around the small town. The hotel also sent flowers and local red wine.

After a day of strolling around the old streets, I pulled Lucien to sit on the balcony sofa and enjoy the scenery at night.

The smell of red wine diffuses in the night. Lucien picked up the decanter and swirled it, then poured the wine into the glass.

I took a few sips, and the mellow aroma of the wine spread in my mouth.

I comfortably exhaled, and my tense nerves became relaxed. I saw a book of Spanish poetry on the corner of the table and opened it casually.

After stumbling over a few lines, an unfamiliar phrase caught my attention.

MC: distancia íntima…

I didn't know why I repeated it, and I saw Lucien on the sofa, gazing down at the color of the red wine.

So I gently leaned my head, rested my chin on his shoulder, and dragged the tail notes.

MC: Professor Lucien, I don't quite understand this part.

Lucien put down his glass and glanced over the line of poetry that I pointed to. Then, his gaze fell on my face.

Lucien: It refers to an interpersonal distance of 46 cm, which is also the minimum distance for self-defense.

Lucien: Typically, it is reserved exclusively for family members… or lovers.

Lucien's fingertips fell to my lips, gently wiping away the faint red wine stains. I asked him a follow-up question.

MC: What will happen if we overcome this distance?

Lucien: Then both parties will unconsciously want to share… love.

As Lucien spoke, his face approached mine a little closer. I could almost smell the faint scent of alcohol on his breath.

There seem to be unspoken and heavy emotions between our eyes. I put down the glass, smiling, and hooked Lucien's neck.

MC: What is it?

Lucien bowed his head along with my force. His falling bangs brushed my face.

Lucien: I find that there seems to be something else more worth focusing on… I can't wait for this 'lecture' to be over.

MC: Pfft, why are you getting more and more straightforward?

Lucien: [chuckle] I prefer to describe it as something "uncontrollable" rather than straightforward.

Lucien: I've heard that when your heart feels excited, your words or actions will unconsciously show it.

Lucien: (whisper) Just like right now, when I think that MC is very cute…

A drunken kiss fell on my lips along with his words.

The unfinished poetry book fell to the ground with a thud, but no one bothered to pick it up. I clutched the corner of Lucien's coat and instinctively responded to his kiss.

The moonlight is gentle. Between our intertwined breaths, I heard a vague whisper on my lips.

Lucien: (whispering between the kisses-) ...I love you...

My heart suddenly beat a little faster. I pulled away from Lucien, slightly panting. I want to hear more clearly.

MC: Y-you just said…

My words were interrupted by his lips that were chasing mine. I don't know if it is because of alcohol, but Lucien is a little more irresistible than usual.

As the kiss deepened, I gradually lost my focus. I can only close my eyes and cater to his demands.

But that whispered phrase lightly tickled my heart, with little tickles appearing now and then.

[Flashback ends]

[Part 2]

Lucien: MC?

Lucien's voice came to my ears. I looked back and saw Lucien looking at me with interest.

Lucien: Your ears are red... Did you think of something?

MC: (blushing) ...No, it's probably because the coffee is too hot.

I pretended to blow on the coffee in my cup and spoke in a casual manner.

MC: Speaking of which, do you remember what you said to me on the balcony last night?

Lucien tilted his head and seemed to think seriously for a moment.

Lucien: [chuckle] I can't quite remember.

Lucien: It seems that a lot of things happened and many things were said last night.

Lucien: Which one would MC like to hear? Maybe you can give me a hint?

Lucien's expression reveals a little bit of innocence as if he really can't remember the whisper that brushed through his lips.

I opened my lips, and a jumble of chaotic memories accompanied by hot whispers flashed through my mind.

How does this remind us that at that time we were on-

After a moment of staring at each other, I blushed and changed the subject.

MC: ... N-nothing, let's talk about it later.

(they really did ‘that’ on balcony-)

Lucien didn't ask any more questions, as if he didn't notice anything unusual. But I couldn't help thinking, how can I hear him say those three words again?

My heart skipped a beat when I glanced at the book of poems on the corner of my desk.

When I was flipping through the book last night, I saw that there were quite a few love poems included in the book. Maybe… I can use this to create an opportunity?

Thinking of this, I naturally picked up the poetry book and raised it at Lucien.

MC: I suddenly remembered that I hadn't finished reading this book yet.

MC: How about this… Please teach me to read some poems for the occasion of Valentine's Day, Professor Lucien~

I put a little more emphasis on the word "for the occasion".

Lucien looked at me for a moment, got up like he understood what I meant, and then sat beside me.

As the other side of the sofa sank down, I leaned towards Lucien, watching him take over the poetry book as he carefully selected the titles.

I looked at him expectantly. However, I heard Lucien speak in distress at the next second.

Lucien: There are many masterpieces in this poetry collection. Which one does MC want me to read with you?

...Have I not implied enough?

I was a little stunned, and unconsciously spoke.

MC: It's the kind of confession that says I love you-

I abruptly stopped talking for a moment. My ears flushed a little.

... I'm obviously here to set up the conversation. How come I fell into the trap before Lucien did?

I blinked unconsciously. Lucien rested the poetry collection on his chin and thoughtfully looked at me.

A few moments later, a warm hand fell on my shoulder. Lucien hugged me and brought us closer together.

I could almost smell the faint scent of cedar on him- it was the same scent I had been deeply tainted with from last night.

(heh, 'deeply tainted from last night')

Lucien: There is only one copy of the book, so I will have to ask this classmate to read it with me.

His fingertips stopped at a page of the poetry book as he spoke.

Lucien: Aquite amo (Here I love you)… I think this is the one that you like.

Lucien: Andan días iguales persiguiéndose (Days, all one kind, go chasing each other)…

His low reading voice came like a soft evening breeze passing through the twilight-shrouded pine forest.

I held my breath and subconsciously turned my head to look at Lucien. I belatedly discovered that we were already so close.

His side profile is just a short distance away, as if I can drop a kiss on his jaw by just tilting my head.

Noticing my gaze, Lucien raised his eyes to look at me. His voice filled with a couple of imperceptible laughter.

Lucien: [chuckle] Fellow student, please pay attention.

MC: (blush)...I'm paying attention!

I blushed and looked at the page, but I didn't know where I should focus on.

There was a gentle, meaningful laugh ringing in my ears. Lucien raised his hand and held my fingers.

I felt the soft touch of the paper through my fingertips. He guided me across the paper and landed on one line.

Lucien: I have already read this far.

Lucien: Aquí te amo y en vano te oculta el horizonte.

Lucien: Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain…

The long-awaited words just suddenly came to my ears. My heart beat a little faster, and I instinctively responded to his voice.

MC: Te estoy amando aun entra estas frías cosas (I love you still among these cold things)...

The room echoed with our overlapping voices as we read it to each other. But my eyes gradually began to wander.

I snuck a glance at Lucien, and leaned closer to him. The idea of being "greedy" probes a little bit.

It seems that I want so much more than that.

It would be nice to hear him speak his love... in a straightforward way.

[Part 3]

I pursed my lips in distress.

I know that Lucien won't refuse if I ask him. But a direct request is not as romantic as being unable to restrain your emotions.

But under what circumstances would Lucien say love?

The sound of reading stopped at some point. I belatedly raised my head and met Lucien's gaze.

Lucien: I finished reading the poem that MC wanted to hear. Should I continue?

MC: No~ I want to arrange some other activities.

MC: When traveling, we can't stay just stay in the hotel.

Besides, it is easier to create opportunities in a new environment!

I planned to get up from Lucien's arms, but he caught me by the waist, and I fell back into the embrace behind me.

Lucien's chin gently rested against my shoulder, mimicking my affectionate actions from last night.

Lucien: I have an alternative plan. Would you like to hear it?

Lucien: When I checked in yesterday, the front desk recommended the nearby home gallery and said it would be a good place to visit.

MC: A home gallery?

Lucien: Um, it was converted from a personal residence. The gallery owner changes the theme from time to time and selects paintings for display.

Lucien: The works on display are not those of famous artists. But the personal touch is stronger, and the atmosphere is quiet. The theme in recent days happens to be "lovers".

That sounds like… a good place for creating an opportunity.

I hugged Lucien's arm and nodded with joy.

MC: Well, let's go check it out~

The gallery mentioned by the receptionist wasn't too far from the hotel. Lucien and I strolled along the street, sometimes pausing to look at the roadside scenery.

After about ten minutes, I saw a building with a "Galeria" sign. Curious, I went ahead and pushed the door open.

The room was full of paintings. The elderly owner got up from behind the board and said some words to us with a smile.

Lucien nodded his head in response; I tugged on his sleeve curiously.

Before I said anything, he explained in a low voice.

Lucien: He said that the art exhibition is open, and painting tools are provided to create your own paintings.

Lucien: If you don't mind the surroundings, you can do it in the living room. Or if you don't want to be disturbed, you can also reserve a room. You can decide after the exhibition.

The old man gestured kindly towards the deep corridor in response to his words. Then he sat back at his drawing board and continued to paint.

Not wanting to disturb the old man's work anymore, Lucien and I glanced at each other and lightened our steps in unison.

The daylight flows quietly on the varnished floor, and various portrait paintings hang on the dark vine-patterned walls.

The brush strokes are either smooth or rough, but the faces drawn out are filled with love. I leaned close to the painting frame and carefully examined it.

MC: It seems that not all the portraits here are made by professional artists.

Lucien: Indeed, it is more like a portrait of a lover painted by a visitor on a whim.

I can't help but think of the scene in the movie where the young artist is at a loss as to what to do with his beloved and smile gently.

MC: It is indeed very appropriate to leave this kind of painting for each other in the "holy land of love"~

Lucien: Then, can MC paint a portrait for me?

I blinked in surprise and suddenly thought of something.

Last night, Lucien said that the intimate distance would make people unconsciously want to share their love.

Maybe this can be used to quietly close the distance and create an atmosphere that makes Lucien open his mouth!

Having made up my mind, I nodded with a smile.

MC: Then I'll invite Professor Lucien to be my model this time~

The door of the room was closed silently.

The silence slowly spread, and I could hear the rustling sound of swaying trees from time to time. Lucien looked around and saw the narrow prop bed in the corner.

Lucien: As a model, I have to maintain a pose for a long time… MC, do you mind if I slack off in this way?

As Lucien spoke, he walked around the table and chairs, and sat on the side of the prop bed. I coughed and spun the paintbrush twice.

MC: Sure. So, does Professor Lucien have any ideas about the modeling?

Lucien bent his slender eyebrows.

Lucien: I'll leave it up to the artist to decide.

Lucien: I'm willing to work with you on whatever you need.

Our eyes met for a moment. I held my drawing board and went to stand beside Lucien.

MC: Then I would like you to take a more relaxed pose, Professor Lucien.

As I said that, I pushed Lucien's shoulder. He cooperatively fell back on the pillow and looked at me sincerely.

Lucien: Is this enough?

MC: Let's get a little more relaxed.

MC: I want to portray the way you look when you're at ease~

I explained solemnly and leaned down to unbutton his coat.

MC: ...You should also dress in a way that brings out your sensuality, don't be so tense.

MC: Imagine that you're in the bedroom at home.

His coat fell to the bed sheet, making the atmosphere a little quiet and charming. Lucien looked at me and slightly moved his eyes.

Everything is going as expected. I sat down on the chair beside the bed. And I was beginning to plan how to move forward when I heard Lucien speak.

Lucien: Is this enough for you?

Lucien asked as he lifted his hand and unbuttoned his shirt one by one while I watched.

The collar that was buttoned to the top slowly opens up, and the smooth lines outline the firm shapes, which are gradually hidden behind the bottom of the hem. My ears suddenly turned red.

MC: I-I...

Lucien: I just think it will be more in line with the state that MC wants.

Lucien: (whisper seductively) Or do you need me to relax a bit more?

Lucien's fingertips continued to move down; his tail note was slightly lighter. For some reason, I suddenly felt that the air seemed to heat up a bit.

I quickly averted my gaze and subconsciously tightened my grip on the brush.

MC: No need, this will do!

As I said that, I hurriedly sketched out some lines on the board.

Lucien's soft laugh came to my ears. After the rustling of the fabric, the room returned to silence, with only the rustling sound of the brushes stroking over the canvas remaining.

In addition to wanting to create an opportunity to hear Lucien say those three words, I also wanted to give him this painting as a memento of our Valentine's Day trip.

Dark hair, slender eyebrows… I depicted every emotion stroke by stroke, and the familiar outline gradually emerged on the paper.

It's just that every time I look up, I can see Lucien's smiling eyes.

My face was getting hotter and hotter, and I started to avert my eyes.

The artist's red face when facing the model in the movie came to my mind. I hastily withdrew my gaze and huffed in empathy.

…It turns out that the scene was not exaggerated.

Gazing at the person you like for so long, you really can't control your heartbeat.

I tried my best to maintain my composure and finished most of the painting. Then, Lucien's phone suddenly rang.

He helplessly blinked at me. Before he could say anything, I handed over the phone.

MC: Let's take a look. What if it's news from the research institute~

Lucien took the phone, but his body still remained in the same position as before. He just raised his hand a bit and looked at the message.

The screen's glow shines on his face, sharp and gentle, wonderfully distinguishing between light and dark. Lucien glanced at me, smiled softly, and spoke.

Lucien: Can Miss Artist continue like this?

Realizing this opportunity, I put down my drawing board and got up from my chair.

MC: The angle has changed a bit. Let me correct it.

I said and touched Lucien's cheek, and quietly guided him.

MC: But I didn't expect Professor Lucien to be so calm when he posed in front of me in such a "seductive" way~

Lucien cooperated and tilted his head. His soft bangs brushed against my palm.

Lucien: After all, the job of a model is to work with the creative process.

Lucien: And in the eyes of Miss Artist, now I should be no different from a… butterfly

MC: Now the positions are switched.

I smiled, seeing that Lucien also seemed to have lost in the memory, and then he opened his mouth.

Lucien: The artist once hoped to put the butterfly on a glass cover and keep it with him forever. But later, he discovered that even when he let the butterfly go, it flew back to him.

Lucien: It gave him happiness he had never felt or imagined before.

MC: From the butterfly's perspective, it also reaped the happiness that comes from being willing to stop… The artist and the butterfly are meant to complement each other.

MC: Just like now, you are a "butterfly" that complements me.

Lucien silently looked at me for a moment and bent the corners of his lips.

Lucien: That's right. As you said, painting is a two-way street between the artist and the depicted subject.

Lucien: So, now I will also do my best to assist.

Lucien winked as he talked, and his posture became more relaxed.

I went around in circles and didn't hear the expected response. I pursed my lips and took a roundabout approach to lead him.

MC: Professor Lucien is a very cooperative model. He's probably the ideal partner for any artist~

Lucien: Perhaps. But this kind of close observation is a privilege that belongs only to you.

My heart skipped a beat.

MC: ....Will Professor Lucien have a special feeling when facing the artist like that butterfly?

Lucien: I have.

Lucien said and looked at me.

Lucien: Facing you, I seem to have no way to restrain my heartbeat.

Suddenly, his drunken confessions from last night come to mind, intertwined with his whispers at this moment.

Lucien: (whisper) Just like now. By simply looking at you, I can't help but want to…

Lucien paused.

Amid the accelerated heartbeat, he held my hand that was touching his cheek and slowly rubbed it. The already close distance was shortened again, and my wrist was warmed by the heat of his breath.

Bathed in a faint soft light, he stared at me and spoke softly.

Lucien: (continuing his whisper) So, I'm also a little curious.

Lucien: (still whispering) Now that MC is facing me, what are the thoughts in her heart?

[Part 4]

The church bells rang in the distance, and the birds fluttered their wings and flew past the window.

The shadow of the daylight reflected on Lucien's profile, and the air between us seemed to be stained with lingering and deep affection.

I gazed into Lucien's dark eyes and picked up the painting I was about to finish from the chair.

MC: All I want to express is here.

MC: In that movie, the moment the main character saw the painting, they understood the artist's intention…

MC: So, can you feel my emotions by looking at this?

Lucien looked at the painting. His eyes lingered on every spot as if he was facing a priceless work of art, and there seemed to be some emotions surging in his gaze.

Lucien: Mm, every stroke is full of tenderness and… yearning.

Lucien: Did I get it right?

Seeing his serious expression, I opened my lips hesitantly.

I painted each stroke of the painting with love. How can Lucien didn't feel it…?

Or is my drawing skill so clumsy… that I can't even convey my emotions?

I doubted myself and forcibly raised the corners of my mouth.

MC: It's not wrong, but it's not the right answer either. What I'm trying to express is- ah, just forget it.

I sat back in my chair, feeling a little bit defeated, and sighed unnoticeably.

A very soft sigh came from behind me. Accompanied by the rustling of clothes, I was swept into a warm embrace.

Lucien wrapped me from behind and held the paintbrush together with me.

His faint cedar scent surrounds my body. Lucien leaned close to my cheek and spoke in a low voice.

Lucien: Remember what I told you about "intimate distance"?

Lucien: Within 46 cm, you can feel every subtle change in the breathing and temperature of the person in front of you.

Lucien: For me, you are the only person who can enter this distance.

The brush we hold lands on the canvas. Amidst the rubbing sound caused by the friction of the brush and the canvas, the unrefined half of the face gradually becomes clear.

Lucien immediately put down the paintbrush. He didn't let me go and maintained our hugging position. We looked at the drawing board together.

The canvas shows him lying on the edge of the bed with a faint smile on his face.

However, upon closer look, I find that although the brushwork is more refined later on, something seems to be missing in how the painting subject is portrayed.

I opened my lips but heard Lucien speak.

Lucien: You noticed it too, didn't you?

Lucien: Even I can't paint a true portrait of how I look in your eyes.

Lucien: (whisper) Relaxed, disorganized, and also perhaps a little bit of what you call "playing tricks"… Only in front of you, everything about me will be open without reservation.

Lucien: (whisper) This is a side only you can see… And when I put the brush to the canvas, I can't pour more love into it than you do.

I looked at Lucien, a little stumped for words. In addition to the full attention in his eyes, he also showed a little helpless smile.

Is it possible that he has already understood what I want to express?

So why did he keep avoiding the word "love"? It's like he was trying to bait me to say the word….

I suddenly thought of something and broke free from Lucien's embrace with a little effort.

Then I got up and pressed him down on the chair, unsurely asking him a question.

MC: Your reaction to many things seems to be different than usual today.

MC: …Lucien, are you also planning something?

Lucien: Hmm? 'Also'?

Lucien's voice hid a deeper meaning to it. I opened my mouth and finally admitted with a blushing face.

MC: I admit, I have indeed been trying to bait you to say something to me… What about you?

In the gradual acceleration of my heartbeat, I met with Lucien's gaze.

Lucien: Of course, I… have the same purpose as you.

I blinked in astonishment.

MC: For what reason?

Lucien: For what reason…?

Lucien gently repeated my question, and his warm breath close against my skin.

Lucien: At first, I just thought that the way you worked hard was cute, and I wanted to see more of it. But then I became "greedy" too.

Lucien: Rather than fulfilling your wish, I rather see MC's most instinctive desire for me being revealed in the intimate distance that only belongs to us…

Lucien: Together with the most straightforward expression of love.

Lucien: But looking at it now, it ended up backfired. So, in order to make amends, I'm willing to accept any punishment.

Finally, there is an explanation for this man's various "unromanticism" today. I snorted softly and suddenly thought of something.

MC: But speaking of which, did Professor Lucien remember wrongly?

MC: When we were reading the poem, I was "tricked" into saying I love you first.

Lucien spoke with a voice that was filled with inaudible grievances.

Lucien: But those are the words of the poet, not yours.

Lucien: What I want to hear is a straightforward confession from MC.

I was stunned. I couldn't help laughing when thinking about how I precisely thought the same thing as him. My fingers pulled on Lucien's tie, and I moved closer to him.

Our breathing is gradually intertwined. I asked him a question in a soft voice.

MC: So, is the distance between us now less than 46 centimeters?

Lucien gazed at me and suddenly grabbed my waist.

Lucien: (chuckles, then whispers seductively) I think… It can still be a little closer.

The hands on my waist tightened a little. I leaned over to get close to him and spoke in a teasing manner.

MC: Doesn't Professor Lucien want to take the initiative this time?

Lucien looked as if he was allowing himself to be captured, but his eyes weren't wavering.

Lucien: After all, it's punishment time. So, I'm going to hand over all the initiative to you.

Despite saying these words, his hand did not loosen up in the slightest. Instead, he caressed upward, bringing me closer to him.

I couldn't suppress my laughter. I whispered as I bowed my head.

MC: How cunning.

I kissed Lucien as soon as the words fell.

A slightly cool sensation comes through equally soft lips, and my heart trembles with each restless movement.

I sank into the seemingly passive yet irresistible demands of the person in front of me.

The strength of my body was drained away before I knew it. I half-kneeled, half-sat in his embrace, and couldn't resist closing my eyes.

Entangling, deeply penetrating… The tip of his tongue lightly swept my sensitive upper palate. I shuddered and instinctively wanted to struggle.

But I was firmly confined and had nowhere to escape.

…I don't want to stay away either.

Until every breath that reaches deep into my soul gradually becomes fully tainted with his breath.

I could hear the rustling of the curtains brushing against the window and the sound of people walking in the hallway, but I didn't care about it anymore.

My senses, my everything… All melted in this kiss and the depth of his eyes.

Between our melded breaths, I slightly pulled myself away from Lucien and instinctively opened my mouth to speak.

Lucien: (with the most tender and loving whisper between the kisses) I love you.

MC: (whispering at the very same time as Lucien) I love you.

Coincidentally, our unanimous whispers were intertwined in the air. In just an instant, my heart was filled with happiness, flying like a feather in the warm sunlight.

I raised the corners of my lips and stroked Lucien's cheek.

MC: Is Professor Lucien satisfied with my expression?

Lucien clasped my hand and interlocked our fingers together.

Lucien: (whisper) It's even better than I imagined.

Lucien: (whisper) Everything about you, every time you approach me... makes my heart beat excitedly.

His warm breath brushed against my ear. Lucien tilted his head again and irresistibly chased after my lips.

The spring scenery is deeply reflected in his eyes, and I also saw my figure reflected in them.

After those whispers, I heard him whisper once again.

Lucien: It makes me fall in love with you again and again... for countless times.

[Personal Rambles + Date analysis(?) corner]

I love this date. Personally, I would even say that I like this date better than last month’s SP and SSR. I think it is worth being the one date where it has ‘I love you’ in it. Not just ‘I like you’, or his ‘definition of love’.

There are many things I want to scream about this date- but to keep it simple, I’ll just talk about some parts that I think are really interesting this date.

[Here I love you]

Okay, so the first one is the poem, ‘Here I love you’ by Pablo Neruda. I like this part because their poem exchange reminds me of the scene from Lucien’s Blossoms date where they wittily quoted poems to each other (something that sadly, gets lost in translation:”).

But anyway, back to the topic of my interpretation of how some lines of this poem coincided with parts of the dates and their story in general.

First of all, I love how PG choose this poem that explores love and fear of losing someone you love, which is THE big angst theme for Lucien.

"In that hazy memory, he seems to have lost someone."

—In his dream, he also sat with a girl under a tall tree, painting. He never understood why but when they drew a seedling on the paper, he would draw a glass to cover it.

Until just now, after he experienced the moment of losing the only color in his life, Lucien understood his choice in the dream.

—This is a fear of losing someone again.' - [R&S Eternity and a day.]

There’s a reason why PG chooses to torture this man by making him believe that MC is dead after chapter 18 [R&S Not Planned On] and making him watch her die again and again in [Main Story S2 chapters 13 and 14]. Because he already lost so much in life, he’s probably the one who fear losing MC the most.

Here I love you. The word here indicates that the poet is the one who stays and waits in one place. Just like Lucien, who is always waiting for her to take him home in S2. He doesn’t mind waiting for her answer no matter how long. It’s also something that’s highlighted in [Dating Reality Show Date]. Where we learn that he was the one who fell at first sight and waited for MC whose love is something that grows with time and his companionship.

This is a port. Here I love you. Just like ships that always come and go in the port, so do people. But ships can always come back to port after they parted. The butterfly can always fly back to the artist even after the artist lets her go. I’ll dive deeper into it in its own section ;)

I love what I do not have. It really reminds me of what MC said in the only color call. Where she said that to love someone is to love them as an individual, and there’s no requirement for a special relationship. You just want the person you love to be happy, not to ‘have’ them :”.

The moon turns its clockwork dream; The biggest stars look at me with your eyes. Lucien will unconsciously reveal his sides that he doesn’t even notice. Only in front of her, he will open up everything about himself without reservation. ‘The biggest star’ is the love in her eyes as she gazes at him as if he’s the only person she can see in this world.

“You noticed it too, didn't you?”

“Even I can't paint a true portrait of how I look in your eyes.”

And the opposite also true, because he too, always gazes at her as if she’s the only person he can see in this world.

The spring scenery is deeply reflected in his eyes, and I also saw my figure reflected in them.

[Distancia Intima]

This one is probably the shortest part ahah, but distancia intima or Intimate Distance is the nearest space around our body and is reserved for an intimate person like a family member or lover.

For Lucien, it’s a space that only belongs to one person. Only in front of her, he can show his most unreserved sides.

But on the other side, it also means that she’s the only important person left in his life. Whether as his ‘family member’ or lover :”...

[Reverse Artist and Butterfly]

OK BUT, this one is definitely an unexpected twist, but pleasant. I love how in the process of confessing ‘I love you’ we get taken back to his very first definition of love, the Artist and Butterfly.

“If you can meet that artist, tell him this for me. That he actually doesn’t love the butterfly, does he?”

“Why do you think that the artist doesn’t love the butterfly? If you love someone, aren’t you supposed to move heaven and earth to tie them to your side?”

“But that is too selfish.”

“Yes, even I find it selfish.”

“But if he doesn’t do that, it’s likely that the artist will lose the butterfly.”

“And then his life will be like how it was before, his whole world would just be black and white.”

“If he really loves the butterfly, then he wouldn’t want to see them suffer, right?”

“Maybe I’m too simple, but for me, genuine love is simply loving that person as an individual, and I wouldn’t need a special relationship with them. I’d just want them to be happy.”

“If you were this butterfly, and there was someone who wanted to confine you to their side so they could keep you together with them forever…”

“Would you be willing?” - [The Only Color Call]

For him at first, to love is to bind someone by his side, but for MC to love is simply loving the person as an individual and wanting them to be happy. It reminds me of the saying ‘If you love someone, set them free. If they come back they're yours; if they don't they never were.’

The artist let the butterfly go, but the butterfly flew back and decided to stay with the artist because it is happy to be by the artist’s side. This happiness is a two-way street because the butterfly’s willingness to stop also brings the artist happiness he never felt before… Their choice of being by each other side is the longest confession of love.

It is even more interesting that this date talks about the identity exchange between the artist and the butterfly. All this time, we usually thought that Lucien is the ‘artist’ while MC is the ‘butterfly’ but it seems that, the reverse also works.

Because Lucien also brings color to MC just like the butterfly to the artist. They color each other’s world.

Perhaps for everyone, the world was monochromatic at the beginning.

With time and encounters, the world gradually became stained with colors, giving value to different people and things.

Slowly, the whole world becomes colorful as it interacts with memory. It also has smells and sounds.

Until the most special existence appeared that makes the color of this world more distinctive.

It's as if the whole picture has been retouched so that everything has a new meaning.

While we quietly shared the cake, I looked at Lucien's face lit by the warm lights.

“Lucien, you’re colorful right now” – Lucien’s 3rd birthday date

-and because MC too, just like the artist, also greedily wants to keep him safe forever. But because she knew that she couldn’t stop Lucien from walking towards his aspiration, all she can do is let him go and try to catch up to him.

Both of them learn to let go as the artist and also choose to stay as the butterfly because it’s what makes them happy.

[我爱你]

From ‘Can you teach me how to love?’ to ‘I love you.’ LOOK AT HOW FAR HE’S GROWN. I can’t believe it’s been days since the date and the PV but I still sob every time I heard him say that. It’s been a long process, even though he’s been declaring his love in his own way, whether it is his wordless declaration of love in S1 chapters 35 and 36. Or the wheat field as the representation of his heart, with the ebbs and flow of the tide as his heartbeat in S2 chapter 34.

I love you is special as the most straightforward way to declare one’s love. I love how on this date these two fools tried to trap each other into confessing but ended up confessing instinctively at the very same time lmao. The situation is really funny, with MC who’s trying her best to create an atmosphere where Lucien would say I love you vs Lucien that knows all along about her plan, even manages to trap MC into confessing first but ends up feeling dissatisfied with the confession because it’s the poet words, not hers (-how childish-).

On this date, both of them ended up becoming greedy, wanting to hear the most direct love confession from each other.

I snuck a glance at Lucien, and leaned closer to him. The idea of being “greedy" probes a little bit.

It seems that I want so much more than that.

It would be nice to hear him speak his love... in a straightforward way.

“At first, I just thought that the way you worked hard was cute, and wanted to see more of it. But then I became “greedy” too.”

“Rather than fulfilling your wish, I rather see MC's most instinctive desire for me being revealed in the intimate distance that only belongs to us…”

“Together with the most straightforward expression of love.”

“What I want to hear is a straightforward confession from MC.”

-although both of their plans also end up backfiring as neither of them gets the straightforward love confession from their plans, MC was unhappy, and Lucien ended up taking the initiative to open up the first because he can’t stand seeing her in distress.

“It's not wrong, but it's not the right answer either. What I’m trying to express is- ah, just forget it.”

I sat back in my chair, feeling a little bit defeated, and sighed unnoticeably.

A very soft sigh came from behind me. Accompanied by the rustling of clothes, I was swept into a warm embrace.

It’s interesting sometimes how they sometimes mirror each other, having the same expectation and desires, while also opposing each other on the other occasion, like their belief and the way they see things. But one thing always remains the same, and it’s the fact that they’ll always yearn for each other.

In the end, they learn that they don’t need to go that far. They just need to follow their heart. Because whether when sober or drunk, the heart knows when to beat faster simply by the presence of each other. The most perfect explanation of this mutual eternal heartbeat is ‘I love you’. And he will keep falling in love, again and again, countless times simply by her close proximity or existence alone.

My final words; I’m very, very satisfied with this date~

#HOW CAN SOMETHING BE SWEET SPICY AND ANGSTY AT THE SAME TIME #enjoy the 1.5k date analysis (?)#this one is my personal favourite sobs #mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc date #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mr. love queen's choice #mlqc

122 notes · View notes

emmyreads · 2 months

Text

THE SPANISH LOVE DECEPTION !!!

Rating: 5/10

Plots and Tropes: fake relationship, slight enemies to friends to lovers(if you can even call it that), office romance, slowburn, grumpy/sunshine, unrequited love, forced proximity

Short Summary: Catalina (lina) needs a fake date to her sister's wedding in Spain. The reason being, the groom's brother is her ex. That relationship is the reason as to why she has the commitment/trust issues that she has. Catalina's family had been consistently bugging her about whether or not she had a boyfriend. So she decided to lie to her family and agree to bring her "boyfriend" to Spain with her to accompany her to the wedding. And what do you know? Aaron Blackford, her rival coworker, just so happened to offer himself to be her 'fake' date to the wedding.

MAIN CHARACTERS!

Catalina-

Okay so I'm going to be completely honest. I was not the biggest fan of Lina. In the nicest way possible, she is stupid. Almost the entire 400 something pages she acted so oblivious to the way Aaron felt about her. You're telling me he knew everything about Catalina and he HATED her? Be serious. He traveled continents to help her, knew her allergies and favorite foods, helped her work late, knows her favorite coffee place, etc. Aaron was so persistent in being her date to the wedding too, why do you think? Because he hates her? Why would anyone care to help someone they despise? Along with all of this, she was just simply so annoying. She is more than what is 'stubborn', she is petty and tiring to read about, im sorry. Moving on!

Aaron-

So Aaron was a decent character. I don't think there was anything absolutely off-putting about him. He definitely wasn't annoying like Catalina was. Aaron was truly a pretty sweet guy. I think it was kind of odd how much he knew about her, although he had liked her for a long time. It feels somewhat creepy, as if he was watching her creepily from a distance at all times LOL! He was also cringy as shit at times but I feel like at this point its normal. Other than that, there's really not much to say about Aaron.

BEWARE OF THE SPOILERS MENTIONED BELOW!

- Sentences marked with (**) are just thoughts I have about certain scenes in the book.

** The fact that they made out outside of his dying father's hospital room??? YUCK WTF!!

** THE SMUT SCENES?? Some of it was decently written, but there were certain things that he said that made me feel icky. There was a scene she was doubting things and their romance and he just mentioned that she was the one that made him "hard" and that they were "in it together" and that alone just made her want him again? LIKE OKAY!

** Continuing to talk about the smut, please tell me why Aaron's favorite word seems to be cock! The way he asks if she wanted him to CLAIM it with his COCK. I'm sorry, but no! How come he has to sound so odd in these interactions here like it cannot be this difficult to dirty talk well.

** "I'll give you the world," he said against my mouth. "The moon. The fucking stars. Anything you ask, it's yours. I'm yours."

- This was one of the only things that genuinely was sweet that I adored in this book. Unfortunate, but true.

- It's kind of sad because I genuinely wanted to love this book. I feel like almost every book coming from "booktok" is either okay or absolute garbage. The books are always incredibly sappy and overdone. Or they are just not enough.

- This book could have definitely been reduced down to at LEAST 300 something pages. There is so much repetition and so many of the plots/tropes are underdone and not written well. I can't deny that there were parts I enjoyed, although it wasn't much. I try to rate books kindly and with the mindset that there is always worse or always better. I rate books also by the way they touch me, if they do at all.

#the spanish love deception #books and reading #reading #romance books #bookshelf #books & libraries #booklr #bookblr #book blog #bookworm #book review #books

4 notes · View notes

soulsanitarium · 1 year

Text

Mexico 🇲🇽 Three different films: Perdita Durango, Alucarda & La Tia Alejandra

1. The film La Tía Alejandra (1979). 🎥Aunt Alejandra arrives to a familiar household consisting of two parents and three children. Immediately the woman’s presence begins to interfere with the couple’s happiness and also sexuality. Everything seems to be surrounded by an aura of mystery.

Auntie teaches children witchcraft but when one of the children mocks her, she caused his death…She comes to a bathroom and makes the water so hot it burns the teenage girl’s body. Children hate the Auntie and she revenges. Husband starts to drink and is driven away from home. Finally Lucía, the wife, tries to save what is left and takes the active role.🔥👵You can compaire this movie to mother-child relationship in Carrie, or Psycho, depicted as abnormal and perverse. Lucía too desires independence and yearns to lead her own life, yet she is unable to break away from her “auntie’s” dominating influence. As a fantasy it is an important developmental step so that the separation - individuation process is completed and we can get distance to the mother. More interesting than average ⭐️⭐️⭐️

2. 🎥Alucarda (1977): Constant screaming and overacting. Movie borrows a lot from Carmilla - Sheridan Le Fanu’s novel and films and the rest from Mother Joan of the Angels, TheDevils... Perhaps it is more interesting to look for the psychological side of the film.

👯‍♀️ Alucarda (a Dracula, Mircalla - Marcilla - Carmilla) deals with twinship -themes. Is she just a fantasy figure? Justine’s sadistic inner world?

✝️Name ”Justine” is perhaps borrowed from DeSade’s novel. Is Alucarda just a channel for the aggression and shame, is it about Justine’s own sexuality? The film becomes more interesting if you look at it from different sides of one person.

Enlarge the image to see the borrowed dialogue

💞We all have the need to feel a degree of alikeness with other people. Processes of internalization are motivated by and emerge as the self’s protection of its existence through increasingly advanced ways to ensure the object’s availability in the individual’s world of experience. Identification is an essential form of internalization processes. (Tähkä 1996 & Tähkä R.) What it means to be treated as human by others? ”What I really want is just a sister” can be a wish of a clone-like relationship. Heinz Kohut (1978) calls this phenomena a twinship-transference / - self-object. This longing can also be sexualized.

☸️ In the Jungian psychology, in order to reach a relationship and integration of the Self for the individuation process, typically a person must face, reconcile, and assimilate two central components of the personal unconscious: 1) the Shadow, 2) Anima. Perhaps like in this scene (below) from Perdita Durango.

3. 🌪This is for the friends of Santeria, black humor and 🩸 violence Perdita Durango, released as Dance with the Devil in the United States, is a 1997 Spanish/Mexican action-crime-horror film directed by Álex de la Iglesia, based on Barry Gifford's 1992 novel 59° and Raining: The Story of Perdita Durango. It stars Rosie Perez as the title character and Javier Bardem.

🎬The film is reminiscent of many great other films. Such as: Wild at heart, Badlands, True Romance, Natural Born Killers, Bonny and Clyde, Il Capitano…both Perdita Durango and Wild at Heart go back to original novellas by Gifford. Isabella Rossellini played PERDITA DURANGO in David Lynch’s WILD AT HEART.

🔪Of course, real-life killer couples also come to mind, like: Homolkas, Sarah Jane and John Makin, Ian Brady & Myra Hindley, Mona Watson & Michael Howell, Suzan & James Carson…

🎭In the movie Romeo (Bardem) is a self-styled Santeria guru who spends most of his time flitting from one crime to another. When Perdita and Romeo hook up, all Hell breaks loose. Actually Romeo steals the show from Perdita…he is just amazing Santeria priest…captivating like a Rockstar ⭐️ Gandolfini, Perez …casting is Great

😨😨😨😨Human sacrifices, sadism, kidnapping, rape, murder, featus trafficking …

😂😂😂 Funny but then suddenly again not…

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Furious magic

🔪🔪🔪🔪Violence - Hay drogas y mucha violencia

😆 Screamin’ Jay Hawkins has a role in the film

🐆 One of the rear male witch performances in the film that actually is really worth seeing !

Best quote:

Romeo Dolorosa : I'm going to dance with the devil under the pale moonlight!

Perdita Durango : Go fuck yourself, Romeo.

Romeo Dolorosa : What's wrong? It's from Batman.

Perdita Durango : Fuck Batman!

✂️✂️✂️! The original Spanish version runs 10 minutes longer and features more sex and violence and ends with some characters digitally morphing into the scene finale from Vera Cruz. 🇩🇪 edition was original 126Mins.

©ST

Recommended Source:

Reenkola, E. (2002). The Veiled Female Core. New York. Other Press.

youtube

36 notes · View notes

bktrashcat · 7 months

Text

20 Questions for fic writers

Thank you @yerbamansa for tagging me in this!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

213,812

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Our Flag Means Death

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Laundry Service (91,893 words) Modern AU, Ed/Stede long-distance relationship

Hey Good Lookin’ (32,533 words) Modern AU, Ed/Stede cooking class meet cute

Exchanging Glances (26,093 words) Modern AU, Ed/Stede security cam voyeur

work that, work that, pop back, hurt that (3,416 words) Modern AU, Ed/Stede charity car wash

Sunlight in the Midnight (47,992 words) Modern AU, Ed/Stede nursing home romance

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I respond to every comment, unless it’s a binge read, then usually just the last comment. I’m a fairly shy person, even shyer on the internet for some reason, so when people comment, I just assume it takes a lot of effort. I love the different conclusions drawn, parallels or details pulled (intended or not), and I like to engage with that.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don’t think I write angsty endings, even though I love reading them. I would say maybe Mutually Fulfilling, since it’s Oluwande trying to process Jim leaving while he’s having a nice threesome with Frenchie and Wee John? Or, maybe The Fish and The Bird, since it’s end of season one Roach and the gang marooned on the island?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think they all have happy endings, except the more nebulous ones mentioned above! Happiest? Maybe Hey Good Lookin’ or Pearly Like the Whites of Your Eyes, which are just pretty fluffy bits all around.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope! People have been very cool.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yeah! It’s been MLM so far, but I’d like to expand if I keep writing fic.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I feel like I co-write all of my fics with my wonderful beta. He’s got great story and plot instincts, and we build off of each other really well.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I’ve only written Ed/Stede really, but I do love their weirdness and their matching puzzle pieces of insecurity and self-loathing. Maybe they’re my favorite! I’ve surely never saved and bought so much fanart for any other ship.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh, I took one down–sorry–because the guilt ate at me knowing I was never going to finish it. Plus, I hated it. I have some that I haven’t posted, and I doubt they’ll ever make it that far, as much as I want them to be written. I guess the three that nag at me the most are a “Coming to America” Oluwande/Jim (…..?) fic, a QVC Ed/Stede fic and a private eye Steddyhands-ish mystery.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hm. I like writing comfortable, but slightly left-field premises and stories. I also love research, so writing Ed in Vietnam in Laundry Service was very fun to build, even though I haven’t been to Vietnam yet. I like when things are very grounded, which can also be to my detriment, I think.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Yeah, keeping things too grounded, maybe? Plot holes. Timelines. Emotional depth is something I really have to focus on and slow down to write, and even then it’s not always where I want it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

That could be very cool and challenging to do as a longer piece. I’ve done bits with Jim in Spanish, Oluwande in Igbo, Roach in Arabic, and the Swede in Swedish. Some French gets thrown around. I would love love love to write more of Oluwande speaking a language native to West Africa, where Prince Azi’s accent nods to, which is why that “Coming to America” fic screams at me so much.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

This is the first fandom I’ve posted online for, and what a nice entry point. The last time I wrote fic was in high school twenty years ago, and that was just me and my bestie writing Saturday Night Live rpf in our notebook.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Hands down, my current fic, Sunlight in the Midnight is my favorite fic that I’ve written so far. Forty-five year old Ed is a nurse at 81 year old Stede’s retirement community. I love that we call these middle-agers ‘old men,’ so I just made one of them actually old. I want to explore what it’s like to find love very late in life, emotionally and (of course) physically. I want to see some elderly queer love and sex. I think about these two all of the time. They’re still working through their bullshit and neuroses, and they have these histories that I love to dig into, and I just love them so much. A hyperfixation in a hyperfixation. I also feel like I’m watching myself grow in my writing in real time. I’m playing with some different things that I never thought I’d try (mainly with Stede’s journal entries), and it feels like a writing journal with different writing and story goals each chapter. I’m writing with all of the elements that I love from the show and my own life. I’m slowing things down. It’s a fic that makes me wish I was years ahead in my writing skills to catch up with how much I love these characters and want to properly tell their love story.

#ofmd fic #fic writing #20 questions for fic writers

5 notes · View notes

vorchagirl · 3 months

Note

i am so sorry this is so delayed, but here’s my fanfic asks for you - prepare yourself, my friend! ^•^

16 - 18 - 32 - 38 - 46 - 53 - 70 - 80

*80: what are some of your least favorite ships to read AND write?

16. Do you write by hand, on phone or on laptop?

I do the bulk of my writing on my laptop, but lately I've been writing more and more on my phone because I often find myself with spare time while I'm out and about. I do write by hand sometimes, but honestly, I find my phone more convenient now that I've mastered the art of phone writing, lol.

18. Do you enjoy research? Which fic of your required the most research?

I do not enjoy research, lol. But it's an important part of writing, so I do it when I need to. I think the fic that required the most research was Lights in the Sky - I had to do a lot of research for trauma (emotional and physical), different types of wounds, and I had to contact Spanish friends for some help with my Spanish for Vega, and I had to ask my Russian friends to do some transliteration for Rennah's Russian lines. I think Sweet Little Lies is a close second - I had to do a ton of research for that fic too.

32. Do you take fic requests? Why/why not?

Not really, though I hesitate to say definitely no because I never know when an idea will grab me. I'm always open to drabble requests and love when people send those in, but full fics? Not reaaaally.

I used to take full fic requests, and I had some bad experiences with people acting like they owned my work or getting very obsessive with me and my fics. Mind you, I also have had some great experiences. I'm writing Distance because of a fic request, and the lovely person who requested that fic has been nothing short of friendly even though the fic has become much more than intended!

38. What is your most self indulgent posted story?

Lol, this one is easy. My Mass Effect Andromeda x Harlequin Mills and Boon style romance fic 'The Charlatan's Seduction Plan'. This was a labor of love because I genuinely love trashy romances, and my great friend Kit did the art for it. It was so much fun to write, but totally self indulgent!

46. If you could only write one type of AU for the rest of your life what would it be?

Probably mirror-verse fics where a good wholesome character becomes evil and obsessive. Like my Subject Zero Kaidan fic 'Through A Mirror Darkly'. I like when a good guy goes bad and gets obsessive.

53. What is the most used tag on yoru AO3?

'Romance' - which shocks me. I thought it would be 'shameless smut' XD

70. Are you subscribed to any writers on AO3?

I'm subscribed to 15 or so writers - not as many as I should be, but I have a bad habit of following fics instead of authors. Though if you post a fic or chapter and I review rather quickly, it's probably because I follow you!

80. What are some of my least favourite ships to read and write?

Honestly, and this is not hateful at all because I love that some of my best friends are passionate about their ships and characters, but my least favourite is anything with a male Shepard or male Pathfinder Ryder, no matter what the pairing. I just don't especially gel with a male Shepard. I guess because there is such an overwhelming lack of female representation in media I gravitate towards strong female characters in fics.

If we're talking specific ships which I struggle to write or read, I suppose my top 3 are probably Ash x Kaidan, Male Shep x Miranda, or fRyder x Jaal.

Having said that, I can usually read anything if people ask me to - and sometimes I love fics which I never expected to. So I'm always open to everything.

Thanks for the ask - sorry this was so long!

#asks #vorchagirl #my writing

4 notes · View notes

lizbethsletters · 1 month

Text

letters | 031

𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻, 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮

Talking to you every day is a blessing. Today, you got jealous over my bear which you named our son when I got him. Ever since the day I got him, I have slept with him cuddled him and wished it was you every time. Sometimes I wonder if you think about me as often as I think about you but I know that you do when we talk you tell me that your sister is sick about hearing about me. I love you so much I love when we talk you can get me flustered with a few words, I love that I can do the same. When I go to church I tell God that I'm so grateful that you are in my life. You brighten up my day by just being in it. I have a hate love situation with sleeping bc I hate it when we aren't talking but you need sleep and I tell you in detail about my day and I know when I wake up there will be your messages to wake up to. I love you so muchhh. I love your laugh and the way you say "fuck" when I catch you off guard or you say something that is out of pocket, I love how you laugh and say "imma shut up" after you get nervous when you say something. I love you so much and I wish you could be here with me rather than states away. Sometimes I fear that the only reason we work is because of the distance but I remember that we love and care for each other a lot and there's no way that can happen but I can only hope and pray. I love you and I miss you so muchhhhh. Te amo con todo mi corazon, mi amor. Te quiero tener conmigo para siempre.

𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓵𝔂,

𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵ᡣ𐭩

3 notes · View notes

viciouslyfilthy · 4 months

Text

Character Info Sheet

Name: Rotgut

Name meaning: literally just means putrified intestines. Shocker I know /j

Alias(es)/nicknames: La Tripa Podrida (basically his name's meaning but in spanish), Gut, Lust, the roach, little old man, The Thing below Barcelona (by spanish news articles), the cockroach man 'el hombre cucaracha' (by spanish news articles again).

Etchnicity: arab, european hispanic (Iberian Peninsula).

One picture you like best of your character:

Sorry y'all I'm gonna have to break the rules here because I can't just choose ONE picture I like best😔 here we go:

[First (1) image of Rotgut smiling mischievously is not the mun's art; it is a part of an art trade with the artist @crazy-eyed-doggo on Instagram ; second (2) image of Rotgut has been drawn in an exaggerated cartoonish style to re-imagine what the character would look like if he were a villain in shows like Powerpuff Girls/Billy&Mandy ; third (3) image of Rotgut is directly referencing this meme video. Translation: "and in return, you sign your ass, over to me." ; fourth (4) is a video of Rotgut introducing himself, with two drawings put together featuring his voiceclaim.]

Three h/cs you've never told anyone:

Rotgut enjoys crossdressing! He's curious to experiment with his own gender sometimes, either that or he just wants to feel pretty in a different look. (It's one of those rare cases where he will shower and clean himself up NOT because he's expecting to get laid lol)

Rotgut has collected a good amount of objects and trinkets during his 800 years of life. From old coins that you'd find displayed in a museum today; to ancient books (diaries or bibles), jewelry and clothes.

Sometimes he will go on for so long being unclean (we're talking decades) that actual fungi will start to grow on his body/clothes, specifically stinkhorn mushrooms.

Three things your character likes doing in their free time:

Sex and reading porn aside (to the surprise of absolutely nobody) Gut enjoys watching soap operas and reading classic tragic romance books. (William Shakespeare would be his favourite author in this case)

Playing with marbles. Always brings a bag with him if he's going on a trip!!

Try new recipes while cooking. He likes to expand/improve his cuisine. Sometimes asks Cornelius for guidance or tips.

Eight people your character likes/loves:

His kids, all 30 of them but for the sake of this dash game we will assume that counts as one <3

Himself ofc.

August. (his plague bestie!!)

Edgar the Bug (Men in Black)

Jeremiah.

Taryn.

Cornelius/Versy.

Captain Josep Frascona.

Two things your character regrets:

(During moments of self-awareness) he regrets the person he's become now. He knows his behaviour is unlikeable and indecent, because of this ofc most everyone around him hates him or is scared of him- which leads him to not being able to bring his kids out in public (or alternatively, he gives them a bad reputation when they become adults because of who they're related to) because he's scared they might get hurt as a result of people who hate him; he knows it's his fault for this outcome, but he hates everyone around him (that aren't his children) and just refuses to let go. He resents humanity for how much he has been pushed around, mocked and hurt physically in the past for just existing. He doesn't think anyone is worthy of recieving genuine kindness because deep down they're all just as disgusting as he is. This leads to ego and self-importance that makes him feel superior to others because he's not scared of showing just how revolting one can be + he's not human anymore + he's immortal + he can control/speak to hoards of cockroaches.

He also regrets having placed his distaste for humanity so high he's passed it down on his first generation of children. For the most part, this has caused a few of his children to distance themselves from him, like for example Judith and Kolvenik, which hurt him deeply. Kolvenik flat out blames his father and his hatred for humanity as to why he's developed his genetic disorder that has caused him to permanently shed off his human disguise as he got older (which is completely incorrect just to clarify; how Rotgut feels towards mankind has nothing to do with Kolvenik's genetic issue, he just hates and resents his father mostly as a form of projecting his own self-hatred living as a humanoid bug monster that can't have a human form).

Rotgut tries to better himself non-stop when it comes to raising his newest kids, because he wants to see them be happy and make friends and connections, be likeable and be liked by others regardless of what species they are, unlike him. This makes him a bit hypocritical since when he's on his own, he openly goes back to his old ways & antics- with his kids however he just kind of puts on a mask.

Two phobias your character has:

Philophobia -> fear of genuinely falling in love.

Athazagoraphobia -> fear of being forgotten by loved ones/forgetting someone important to him.

Tagged by: @frostcorpsclub

Tagging: ALLLLLL of you👈🤨

#from my mouth to yours ( rotgut )#mi amor ( rotgut aesthetic )#roots from the past ( oc info/backstory )#dash games.

2 notes · View notes

karimac · 10 months

Text

...in the details, Part 12

A/N: Warning for this series: 18+ audience (minors DNI), some cinematic level violence, some fluff and angst. Doubt that smut will be involved, but it may be implied. I’ll make sure that is noted clearly if it pops up.

All relationships, at this point in the story, are platonic, but there is romance in the cards for Kari and Bucky.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open! Please send an ask, and I will gladly add you to the list. If I have added you and you do not wish to be on the list, please let me know, and I’ll take you off the list.

Word count: 3.5k, give or take a word. Not beta read. All mistakes are my own.

Masterlist

Weeks had seemingly passed since the “Save Kari from herself” club was formed, but in reality it was only a few days. Despite the truncated length of the encounter, Devnet Casey was regretting getting involved at all with the Avengers and their hangers-on at this point.

Dev liked them all well enough. Darcy Lewis was gas, or funny beyond words as the non-Irish might say, and Wong was as wise as Kari had made him out to be. And Bruce Banner? He was all sorts of trouble Dev likely should have avoided like the plague, but she had a weak spot for science types.

She just didn’t like spilling the tea about one of her oldest friends to some new crop of “friends in training” yet again. How many times had it been now? After nearly 1,500 years? Who would want to keep track!

“I’m mental. That has to be it, Ty,” Dev said as she sat in her leather chair and patted the head of her Irish wolfhound Tyrone, his salt and pepper fur soft to her touch. “I’ve lost the plot, and here I am, about to make this all a million times worse.”

As Dev looked up at her clock, she shook her head and realized she’d need to leave soon. She’d asked Bruce to meet her at a small restaurant in Galway to sit and chat. He was going to be in town for yet another scientific conference. Biomedical and Clinical Engineering Association of Ireland if she remembered correctly. She did not want him coming out to her home just yet. A bit of distance never hurt as far as the immortal was concerned.

“I wish I could take you, but I will bring you a treat bag, Ty,” she said as she leaned over and hugged her furry companion before grabbing her keys and heading out the door. Kari might have used a portal to get there, but Dev needed to drive to center herself a bit.

For some crazy reason, Dev had suggested the Ard Bia at Nimmo’s. It was on the Spanish Parade Long Walk, and it tended to be a place for the more loved-up of the local crowd, but the seafood was to die for, and she did not want to be in some dark hole of a place for this talk. Light to clear the omissions and misgivings away and to help the new crowd understand what was ahead.

Heaven help them all.

If this lot were truly Kari’s friends, they could withstand the tumult.

“Of course he had to beat me here,” Dev said under her breath as she parked her car and walked past a few tourists who were dotting the street. “I see you found the place well enough,” Dev said as she waved to Bruce as she got to the entrance. “I do not have the lead foot Kari does, and I was not keen on using her other favorite mode of transportation. It can spook the tourists a bit too much.”

“Ah, yeah, Sam hates her driving, and I get why the other isn’t a great choice,” Bruce chuckled as he held the door open for Dev to go inside. “And your directions were perfect. I enjoyed the walk from the hotel.”

“Reservation for two. Casey,” Dev said to the hostess, and soon she and Bruce were seated at a table inside. “I know it’s a tad cozy. The design concept is more or less eclectic farmhouse, but the food is fantastic.”

“If you can’t trust a local…” Bruce said as he looked at the menu. “Wow. Beetroot gnocchi. You don’t see that often.”

“Alright, I figured it might be good for the local businesses to have more visitors trying out the fancier spots in town. You could tell your test tube society friends about this place,” Dev giggled as Bruce gave her a bewildered look. “They can’t eat protein bars and energy drinks all day.”

“That was Tony,” Bruce replied as he set down his menu for a minute. “Wait. You told Pepper you knew Howard.”

“In the Biblical sense, ah, yes,” Dev said as she looked Bruce straight in the eye. “But we ended it long before he met Maria, and I made myself very invisible after that. She did not need an old, I mean really old, girlfriend hovering around.”

“Not judging,” Bruce said as he held up his hands in a slight protest. “I just wanted to make sure I had the details straight. Dillisk mash?”

“What? Oh, the menu,” Dev asked as Bruce pointed to a particular item. “Mashed potatoes with greens, in this case a reddish seaweed.”

“Oh, Kari makes that colcannon thing. Like that. I get it.”

“Kari does a lot of things. That’s why I invited you to have dinner. I know you and Darcy and Wong have been pouring over my books. You probably need to have some things decoded by now. Right? Her very large family tree. All the battles she fought. Some odd historical point, maybe?”

“Only one thing actually,” Bruce said as he took a look at the drink menu. “Why are you so nervous about talking about all this? That Cailleach thing scared you, but that wasn’t the only thing that made you antsy.”

“Would you want to spill all of your friend’s secrets to people you didn’t know very well? Secrets you’ve held since the 500s in some cases? The fact she killed herself with a huge sword but was resurrected because of some jiggery pokery deal her Mhamó made with a goddess? Sorry. Her grandmother. The story of how a wizard—who was played by Colin Morgan or Sam Neill in one drama or another—used a blade to cut her body and soul into tiny shards and send them out into the ether, and how she is connected to nearly ever damned part of what Wong calls the multiverse? Maybe you want to hear the tale of how she was found, babbling like a lunatic in Irish, by a now famous British spy and tossed into the story of the Star Spangled Man and his poor friend who became the assassin for the ages? Where do you want me to start, Bruce? Because no matter where I start, this will all end in heartache and tragedy. It always does. And don’t get me started on why she has no kids. That one I can’t…I just…it hurts too much…”

“Slow down,” Bruce said as he gestured with his hands again, the immortal across from him levitating slightly in her chair. “And please sit down. This was never going to get settled in a day or even a hundred days. I think we all know that.”

“Sorry. I just don’t want to see anyone hurt. Not Kari. Not Barnes. Not any of us,” Dev added as she looked at her own drinks menu and waved over the server. “Chardonnay, please. And a Barry’s tea pot for two. Two glasses of sparkling water as well. I think you are not a drinker, right?”

“I’ll try the Silk Tree and Poacher’s Tonic. It seems to be a really nice non-alcoholic G&T,” Bruce said as he shook his head at Dev. “Good memory.”

“I try,” she said as she flexed her fingers a bit. “Kari’s afraid something will happen with Barnes. They…they have had a lot of run-ins over the years. That mess in Poland. A couple of bad dances in Russia. A train tunnel in the middle of Hungary. There are times I’m sure the Goddess blocks from her memory. He damned near killed her a few times, and either she is not bringing them up, or she doesn’t remember. I don’t want to think of them, you know, and him doing something that makes her snap. Or vice versa.”

Bruce by now was playing with his silverware as the server came over to take their orders of the chef’s favorite fishes with lots of local side dishes. Dev was not sure what Bruce would make of the samphire with his order. It was a local succulent that was used in a mixture with asparagus. She’d just have to wait and see.

“Look, I do not want to know about their private moments…” Bruce said as Dev turned bright red. “Oh. Sorry. What did you mean, then?”

“OK, if I reach for something near your arm, no issues. If he does and it reminds her of when he choked her, well, that is another story. And he choked her when he tossed her out the window in Katowice. Loki told me that story one night over Asgardian ale and some dreadful Viking dish I do not want to describe right now. Loki, well, he...it wasn’t that he loved Kari like that. That’s not my understanding anyway. They were friends on some weird level no one else could fathom. But they never…you know…”

“That is one picture I do not need to dwell on,” Bruce replied as his appetizer of aubergine fritters was brought over. “I know she felt horrible when he died. She always says she let him down because no one believed that he was brainwashed by Thanos.”

“I would not have either,” Dev noted as she took her tiny seafood fork and went to work on her Killary mussels. “But back to Herself. I think she is afraid that any problems she has with Barnes will send her down the road to ruin. To become The Destroyer. To become Cailleach.”

“Wait. That’s not another person?”

“As far as we can tell, no. Kari has two living sisters-in-law. Enya Sun and Minerva O’Malley Harkness. We call her Mina. They are part of the we in all this. And we have never once feared this Cailleach nonsense. Not until now anyway. Wong made her antsy about things. And the fact she did that stupid spell didn’t help. And that succubus in New Jersey fighting The Scarlet Witch. Add to that the fact Kari’s self-esteem sometimes is just shit. Thank her mother and grandmother fighting over her for that. Losing her siblings in the ways she did, especially her twin Branan. I’m afraid, Bruce. And I can’t just blurt it all out yet. Your friends will think I’m a basket case. I’m really not.”

“Then why did you decide to tell me?” Bruce asked as he dipped his fritters in the miso aioli that they were served with. “Why not Wong? Since he is the Sorcerer Supreme, wouldn’t it make more sense?”

“You can thank Howard for this chat,” Dev said as she put down her fork and picked up her Chardonnay. “I know a lot of people thought he was crazy and reckless, but he always listened. You always listen, too. So here I am, spilling my guts about one of my best friends because I can’t carry this by myself anymore. Enya will get snarky, and Mina, well, she’s a vampire, so not too many people invite her into any of their homes for very obvious reasons. So by default it’s always been me doing the heavy lifting on this stuff. I love them all, but I can’t fix this. I can’t undo Kari’s stupid spell. I can’t rewind time so she never met that succubus. And I can’t have a million people asking me a million questions at once. So for tonight, well, I’ll answer yours, Bruce. Maybe we can get a better footing to figure out what to do next? Or at least maybe I can give you a reason to trust that I’m not barmy or a bitch.”

By now the wait staff started bringing over the main dishes, and Bruce seemed pleased with the black sole he had ordered. “Thank you,” Dev said as her plate of pan roasted cod was set in front of her. “Bruce, I hope you like it. And don’t worry. I never say no to dessert.”

“How did you end up meeting Kari anyway?” Bruce asked as he looked at the servers clearing a nearby table. “Back in Camelot, right?”

“That is a very long story. The short take is this. I was sent to Avalon to study with a group of bards. Kari’s grandmother sent her there hoping she’d marry Arthur. Frankly, Kari scared the man. She did not scare Enya’s brother Galen. We just moved in the same circles in court, and being the Irish girls, well, we sort of stuck together. Then Galen was killed in battle, and things went boots up pretty damned fast. I’m sure you read that part in one of my books.”

“Then enter Merlin and his spell, and all hell broke loose?” Bruce asked as he tried the samphire and asparagus that came with his black sole. He stopped to look at it for a moment before taking a good sized bite. “This is pretty good. But what happened in Camelot sounds like a nightmare.”

“It got to be one once we realized Kari was still connected to all those parts floating in space. She felt them, and then she started seeing what they were doing while she slept. Most of the time it’s nothing, but sometimes it’s really bad. Those parts of her all have their own lives. Some of those shards have husbands and children. And that’s what hurts so damned much. Kari has always wanted children, and she technically does have them because of all those parts of her that have kids, but it isn’t the same. It’s enough to make your head explode at times. That’s why I stayed in Galway teaching. It keeps me sane. That and my dog Tyrone.”

“I can only imagine,” Bruce said as he sipped his virgin G&T. “Do you think she’s told Bucky about any of this?”

“I’d say that’s a hard no. But he’s not stupid. He reads. A lot from what she’s told me. He’s likely to start looking up stuff. Especially if that nut Helmut Zemo is involved. He gets under people’s skin pretty easily, and I know Kari got upset when he started talking to Bucky during that Flag Smasher business. We tapped into our mental link to her briefly when they were in Madripoor. I don’t think she told any of them. To be brutally honest, she’d have left Zemo to die in Siberia if Black Panther had let her. As she’d say, that was not her call. When it comes to Barnes, Kari never thinks straight. My opinion, and I’ll die on that hill.”

“Pretty forceful words, Dev,” Bruce noted as he finished his rosti, a Swiss-style potato pancake and set down his fork. “Why does that scare you so much? From what Sam has said, Bucky doesn’t seem to think all that straight where Kari is concerned. They dance around each other a lot.”

“And that can’t be good,” Dev said as she looked over the dessert menu that one of the server’s had left on their table. “They just, they…oh shite.”

Dev turned slightly in her chair and then started to hunch down like a scared school girl. “Not now. Not here,” she mumbled as Bruce looked over at another table and saw a couple sit down. The only thing that seemed slightly unusual was the fact the man, tall and muscular and seemingly in his 30s, sported a very healthy head of pure white long hair.

“You know them?” Bruce asked as Dev squeezed her eyes shut and seemed to be praying or casting a spell.

“Dev? Devnet!” the slender woman with dark brown hair and stunning green eyes shouted as she got up and hurried over. “Is this your new gentleman friend? How delicious!”

“Aerfen, no,” Dev said as she rolled her eyes. “Dr. Bruce Banner, may I introduce Aerfen and Ardan Dalcais. Kari’s twin cousins. I never thought I’d see them here tonight. I swear. They usually stay in Dublin where they live.”

“Oh, what has cousin done now? Or should I saw who has she done now?” Aerfen giggled as Ardan walked over. “So, Dr. Banner? Ah yes. Devnet has always enjoyed having her…”

“Don’t you dare!” Dev snapped. “I don’t accuse you of seducing every person you see, Aerfen.”

“Moi? I am not accusing you of anything. Just a bit of camaraderie and you go girl spirit! I wish I were in your shoes,” Aerfen said as she batted her eyes at Bruce.

“Pay no attention to my sister,” Ardan said as he stood and looked at the Avenger. “Devnet, if you need us, we’ll be over here. Not bothering anyone,” he said as he guided his sister back to their table.

“It could have been worse, I suppose,” Dev said as the twins walked away. “It could have been Conri and Saorla O’Cathain. Kari’s cousins on her father’s side. Aerfen and Ardan are on her mother’s side. They mean well, but…no. Back to the topic at hand. Barnes and Kari. Dancing.”

Bruce looked a bit confused after the cousins went back to their table. “Kari never mentioned…”

“Any of her family? I’m not shocked. When her siblings died, she shut down. She never gives straight dates on when they passed. She never talks about surviving family. She rarely tells anyone about me, Enya or Mina. I think she’s afraid we’ll all be in line for some sort of trouble. Those stupid accords. People coming after her. As I said, it can make your head explode. Now, how about dessert?”

Dev finally looked at the menu and decided on the strawberry parfait, and Bruce opted for the chocolate and hazelnut cake.

“She’s staring again, isn’t she?” Dev whispered as she leaned closer to Bruce. “And I just gave her more ammunition. I am an eejit. Don’t worry. I am not…I have read your story…Natasha…and I am so sorry about your loss…I just need a friend.”

Bruce was processing everything Dev was saying when several of the patrons got to their feet and looked out the window onto the street in front of the restaurant. There were purple lights dancing in the air, and suddenly they vanished. Dev looked at Aerfen, but the woman simply shrugged and went back to drinking her own glass of wine. “And just like that, another evening in tatters. Níl ann ach figiúirí. Sorry. It just figures,” Dev said as she looked at her dessert and finally remembered her promise to Tyrone. “Waiter, could I please get a Morgan’s ribeye to take home? Thank you.”

“Midnight noshing later?” Bruce asked as Dev laughed. “No, I promised Tyrone a treat bag. Maybe I should call Wong? That seemed a bit too supernatural for my liking, and if the Trouble Twins did not cause it, and I know I didn’t do it, then who did? I know you don’t know, and you have that talk tomorrow. I’ll find out on my own for now, but I’ll keep you posted.”

When the bill came over, Dev slapped Bruce’s hand after he started to put down a credit card. “I asked you here. My treat,” she said before she turned to hand the server her card. The purple lights came flashing back, and this time the patrons started to shout as something appeared in the lights. “Bruce, maybe you want to get out of here before…too late.”

Ardan was running out of the restaurant, sword in hand, scaring whatever people were still outside as he tried to see what was coming through the lights. “Oh joy! He thinks he’s the Witcher or something,” Dev grumbled as she got up and ran outside just to watch the lights fade again. “Well, did you see anything?”

Ardan walked over to his fellow immortal and Banner and shook his head. “The Rift might be pushing the boundaries again. I’m not sure. Where is Herself?”

“Herself, if she finds out about any of this, will kill me,” Dev replied as she looked to see Aerfen had followed behind Bruce. “And now I think I have to tell you two as well. Bruce, I can take it from here. I’ll ring you tomorrow after your talk. Night.”

“Night,” Bruce said as he walked back to his accommodations. The Eyre Square Hotel was not that far off, and Dev was glad for that in case she needed his help later.

“Now, Trouble Twins,” she started to say as Aerfen poked her in the side with her elbow. “Ow. What?”

“You like him. I can tell,” Aerfen said as Dev groaned in reply. “Fine, but you are no fun! What is wrong with Kari this time?”

“Remember back when Merlin was stupid? Kari upped that with a dodgy spell, and I have a funny feeling those purple lights mean we are all in the shite because of it.”

Dev turned back to make sure Bruce was actually on his way back down the Spanish Parade Long Walk. “May this be nothing I can’t handle on my own,” she said quietly as Ardan gave her a funny look. “Trust me. The Avengers are not ready for The Rift or any of the nonsense your family brings with it at times. You are all like family to me, but gods, they can’t deal with the lot of us on a good day.”

Tag list: @arrthurpendragon, @historygeekfics, @starryeyes2000, @chickensarentcheap

#ocappreciation #fyeahsuperverseocs #bruce banner #hulk #mcu ocs #oc: devnet casey #devnet casey played by renee o'connor #the avengers #mcu multiverse #mcu fanfiction writers #mcu fanfiction #thanks for reading!#oc: aerfen dalcais #aerfen dalcais played by katie mcgrath #oc: ardan dalcais #ardan dalcais played by henry cavill #oc creators unite!

6 notes · View notes