𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐎 𝐌. 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

shapeshifting frolics

CTTO: radiorenjun (Tumgir)

¤ pairing: camilo madrigal x reader

¤ genre: fluff. Just fluff lmao

¤ synopsis: once again, camilo should really stop shape shifting as other people just to talk to you.

¤ warnings: character inaccuracy? honestly the man has 30 seconds of screentime in the whole movie I have nothing to work with here

¤ wordcount: 2.6k

¤ a/n: MOOTS LOOK AWAY THIS IS ANOYHER FEVER DREAM. THIS IS A ONE TIME THING I SWEAR YALL JUST DREAMING LOOK AWAY JUSEYO. Also I ain't colombian or Hispanic nor do I speak fluent Spanish, please correct me if I said anything wrong ♡

It was just another regular day in the life of Camilo Madrigal.

Shushing crying babies in town, teasing his cousin Isabela with every given chance, mocking his sister and his own father by shapeshifting into them and mimicking their voices around the house and sneaking more food from his Aunt Julietta’s kitchen into his plate. ‘All in a day’s work of a 15 year old Madrigal’ as he would often say with an enthusiastic, cocky salute of his two fingers. Well, all in a day’s work except-

“Good morning, Camilo!” you exclaimed, carrying a basket of fresh flowers Isabela had grown, waving at the shapeshifting boy as you walked past him. The boy squeaked in response, startled as he turned his head around so fast to catch a small glimpse of you, Mirabel swore he was going to get a whiplash. Nearly dropping down the apple he had picked from a nearby tree, the boy couldn’t even utter a response as you walked into Mariano’s house, indicating that Mariano’s mother had requested more flowers for her new vases.  

Camilo physically deflated as he realised that he was way too late to respond, eyes trailing along your bright figure as he watched you knock the door. You held the basket to your hip, sticking your tongue out slightly as you struggled to carry the heavy object with one hand and used your free one to knock on the wooden door. The curly haired boy then frowned as he took a dull bite of his half eaten apple. 

“Better luck next time, Camilo,” he muttered to himself, tossing the apple up and catching it in the air with a heavy sigh as his cousin watched him with a deadpan expression. “You do know you could just talk to her like a normal human being instead of moping and sulking around like a weirdo, right?” Mirabel raised her eyebrow up at how dramatic her cousin was being, placing a hand on her hip as she fought the urge to roll her eyes. Camilo was acting as if he and you were star crossed lovers from two different worlds, you couldn’t blame her for fighting the urge to smack him upside the head. 

The boy then turned to his cousin, putting his hands together to emphasize on how pathetically desperate he felt, lips pressed together into a makeshift pout that made Mirabel sick to her stomach. “I am truly at loss, prima. I will never be able to have the courage to talk to mi future amor,” he whined, finishing what’s left off of his apple before throwing the core away recklessly behind him. “Stop littering,” she sighed, shaking her head as she kneeled down to grab the stem of what’s left of the apple with her two fingered before throwing it away properly. 

Grinding her palms together to brush off the dust away in disgust, she turned back to her sulking cousin as Camilo’s eyes never left the Guzmans’ house. She swore that he resembled that of a housewife waiting for her husband to come back home from the war. “Honestly, Camilo, you should just go up and talk to her. It physically hurts me to see you even more dramatic than usual,” she laid an arm across his shoulder, patting him on the back encouragingly. “Because this is getting sad, really sad and pathetic, amigo,” she gave him an encouraging smile.