#anyways i gotta walk tortilla | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imaginationofomi · 2 months ago

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Come Together

Seven

Nayeli wanted to go home, her craving for her tempur-pedic mattress so strong that she almost bailed on her friends. She should've left when her instincts first told her to. Tension made her neck stiff, and it was difficult to turn her head. She pushed through anyway, driving into the neighborhood of single story stucco houses and parking in front of the peach one with russet roof tiles two lots from the corner.

April's white garage door was open. Four men sat around a card table with beer, tumblers of liquor, and cigars inside the makeshift man cave playing dominoes, one of which was her fiancé, Ruben. They waved at Nayeli as she walked up the driveway, and Ruben got up to open the door for her.

"What's up, Nayeli? How you been?" he asked and grabbed one of the two bags she was holding.

"Good. You?"

"Same. Can't complain."

"You don't see me?"

Nayeli did a double take at the second man speaking to her, "Bryce?" she questioned because even though he looked like her ex-boyfriend from undergrad, there was something different about his face. He'd finally lost the round softness of the baby face he couldn't seem to get rid of while they were together and the first few years after, replaced with angular cheekbones and a sweet jawline.

His beige skin was a little sunburned on his cheeks, still clean shaven with a few blemishes near his chin. Starter locs hung just above his ears that now housed two tiny gold hoops. Pink lips stretched into a crooked smile.

"I'm that easy to forget you gotta question me?"

"No, you just don't look like you," she said and walked around the card table to give him a hug. They parted amicably, realizing that they weren't right for each other before resentment settled in and made their lives hell. Their relationship was the reason April and Ruben met, Bryce being Ruben's cousin, so they both lucked out where maturity was concerned. Gatherings would never be uncomfortable, "You finally look like you're grown."

"I'll take that as the compliment I know it was meant to be," he replied with a chuckle, hugging her waist with one arm, "What happened to the fro?"

"I'm letting it grow out. I might bring it back after the New Year." The decision was still very much up in the air, "Let me get inside before somebody calls me a traitor for hanging out with the men." Bidding them goodbye, she stepped through the open doorway and thanked Ruben for carrying the other bag to the kitchen. April was blending a pitcher of margaritas, and from the looks of the mixer bottle, it was the second one, "Sorry I'm late. I got the snacks!"

"Thank God. We need you in here," April sighed.

"How bad is it?"

"Worse, and Renée is not helping."

"Whose bright idea was it to invite her? Ray Charles could've seen that red flag." Nayeli loved Renée, and even she would've had the good sense to leave that woman off the guest list. Why pour gasoline on a fire? Everyone would be liable to get burned.

"She was with Morgan."

"Lord, I've had enough drama for one day," Nayeli mumbled to herself as she massaged her temples, or at least she thought she did.

"Something happened on your job?"

"Too much happened. No time to talk about that. We have to cheer Brittany up."

"There is no cheering her up. We need to keep her from throwing herself off the tallest building in the city."

"She wouldn't do that."

"I wouldn't be so sure." April stopped the blender and took the top off, pouring out a drink for Nayeli and taking the pitcher into the sitting room where the rest of their friends waited with empty or half empty cups while Nayeli grabbed the bowl of white corn tortilla chips and two kinds of salsa.

"Hey Britt."

"Hi." She was red-eyed, puffy and congested, her head resting on the arm of the couch with her knees curled up to her chest, "Did you get the tomatillo salsa?" she asked weakly.

"Mhmm." Nayeli sat down next to her on the floor and rubbed her arm.

"Thanks."

April was streaming Spike Lee's She's Got Have It, the majority black and white film holding most of the attention in the room. The women watched quietly and snacked. Sniffles could be heard, and Nayeli made sure to keep a comforting hand on Brittany, even going as far as to kiss her friend's cheek when she sobbed.

The noise was familiar to Nayeli. She wanted to join the crying, but she kept her tears at bay and the focus away from her own crisis.

Renée, indeed, made the situation worse with her snickering. Whatever beef she had with Brittany made it impossible for her to behave like she had any regard for another woman in pain. She found joy in Brittany's suffering, and beef was never that serious to Nayeli or anyone else in the room.

"I think it's time we plan our annual girls trip. Which seasons are we looking at?" Morgan said as the end credits started to roll.

"We should probably do it closer to summer."

"Anywhere we go then will be super crowded. I'm not trying to spend my vacation in a sea full of musty college kids," April said with her mouth frowned up.

"So March and April are out. That's prime spring break time."

"Shouldn't we decide where we're going first? That'll make it easier to plan the time of year," Nayeli pointed out. Certain places had better or worse weather regardless of the month traveled. They could find somewhere warm in the cooler months or vice versa.

"You might be right. We did Tulum this year. Are we thinking out of state, out of the country, or local?"

"Let's go out of the country again."

"Somewhere in Europe this time!"

"Party in Ibiza!" Morgan shouted and raised her cup.

"What about Amsterdam?" April threw in.

"Do they like our people over there?" Renée asked.

"HOW CAN YOU GUYS SIT HERE PLANNING A DAMN VACATION WHEN I FEEL LIKE MY CHEST IS ABOUT TO CAVE IN!?" Brittany screamed, halting the conversation as everyone looked at her with wide eyes. It was the most she'd spoken since Nayeli got there, and a fresh wave of tears slid down her damp cheeks.

"We were trying to keep your mind off that bum," April answered and bit her tongue before she said anything else. Only she knew why Brittany was at the end of her rope, and if she hadn't just gotten off probation for assaulting someone at her previous job, she would've driven across town to handle the man herself.

"I still don't know what he did. Why are we here?" Morgan asked. All eyes fell on Brittany, and she pushed her face into her hands just before she started sobbing again. She tried to speak but struggled to get the words out. April revealed the secret for her.

"Dana's pregnant."

"By Jeffrey?"

Slowly, Brittany nodded and hiccuped. Nayeli was stunned, but she was the only one. Because she saw the good in everyone even when there was no good to see.

"S-she brought the test to the house. He tried to lie and say the baby wasn't his, but she has videos of them fucking as recently as last week." Renée didn't even pretend to feel bad, letting out a lengthy howl while she held her ribs and bent at the waist, "What the fuck is so funny, Renée?"

"YOU! All that harping you do about respecting relationships and women sharing dick, and you been sharing yours the whole time. With a bitch who had him first, at that. I told you get off that soapbox you love to stand on."

"It's not the same thing."

"Oh, it's not? Let's break it down and see what's real, then. He was in a relationship when you started fucking him, and you knew it. Don't try that 'he lied to me' shit either. Dana was all over social media with him and their kids. You ignored the truth because you wanted him anyway. You gave that lady hell for years over a nigga that was obviously playing you. Then you had the nerve to think you won because he married you, but she got four of his and one on the way while you're still childless and desperate after three years of marriage. The man don't even sleep in your house half the time. You love looking down your nose at the rest of the population like it could never be you, but guess what. IT IS! You're no better than the women you try to dog. I don't have sympathy for you. This is karma rightfully beating your ass," Renée shrugged and crunched on a chunk of ice.

"Née, come on." Morgan shook her head.

"What? I'm supposed to keep myself in check because her man never left his baby momma? It's not my fault she don't wanna accept that she's a sister wife."

"Renée, enough! I realize that you guys are not the best of friends right now, but why do you have to kick her while she's down? She clearly knows she messed up. If this were you right now, nobody would be dumping on you. We're here for support, not to make her feel worse. Keep your thoughts to yourself or go home," Nayeli said angrily.

"Why are you sticking up for her? She brought the shit on herself."

"I would stick up for all of you the same way. When someone is hurt, you don't pile on them. Aren't you supposed to be a mental health advocate? Or is that empathy reserved for strangers only?"

"She don't deserve empathy. She never has it for anyone else," Renée argued.

"All the more reason we should extend it to her. Stop being so damn vengeful."

Nayeli couldn't comprehend the level of hatred Renée was feeling. It was like Brittany personally wronged her, but she knew of no such incident. When Renée realized that no one would come to her defense, she pushed herself out of the chair she was sitting in and headed for the front of the house.

"Y'all can have it." The door slammed behind her, and it seemed like everyone exhaled at the same time.

"Chile, you know you fucked up when Nayeli raises her voice." April said.

"Thank you, Ellie," Brittany whispered, defeated by Renée's harsh words and tone. Feeling horrible about herself to begin with, she didn't need the extra trashing. Her husband already destroyed what was left of her self-esteem.

"You're welcome," Nayeli responded and leaned her head on Brittany's, "She's right, you know. Her delivery was piss poor, but she is right. Take this situation as a lesson, and humble yourself. God don't like ugly."

☼☼☼

Hours and several plates of tacos later, the sun had set and Nayeli was ready to turn in for the evening. Belly full, social gas tank on E, peace and quiet were the only two things on her mind until she got closer to her home. It was just after 8 p.m., and she considered the very real possibility that Jalen could still be there.

She wasn't in a good state of mind to deal with him directly. Hearing him beg for another chance to waste her time would surely set her off after the day she had.

No matter what Ezra said or did, Savannah's attitude worsened throughout the afternoon. While she never went near Nayeli, she did try her hardest to get under Nayeli's skin. In fact, she tried so hard that Carmen snapped on her in front of everyone. Thankfully, they'd sang happy birthday by then because that was the final straw for Nayeli.

A child's birthday party should never become a spectacle, but only she seemed to care about that fact. She just decided to remove herself and pray that the day carried on in peace. Ezra's disappointment made her feel weird, like she owed him an apology even though she'd been trying to leave for most of the day.

"I think I've worn out my welcome," she'd told him as she got ready to go. He tried to convince her to stay longer, but she declined and glanced at a fuming and embarrassed Savannah. It wasn't worth the problems it would cause. However, she did receive a treat on her way out. With her mother just a few feet away, Tatiana expressed how happy she was that Nayeli was there and thanked her for her cake and the rest of the desserts. Like her father, Tatiana asked her stay. Nayeli was gentle with her no, reminding the princess that they would see each other again soon.

Ezra's family graced her with sweet farewells, hugs, and promises of visits to the bakery when they were back in town as most of them still lived in LA, other parts of Southern California or out of state. She could practically see Savannah's face going cherry red and steam flying out of her ears. If Nayeli were evil, she would've laughed at her, but she gave her the same tight lipped smile she plastered on when she let her know to find someone else to try instead.

Between that and doing the emotional labor for most of her friend circle, Jalen was the very last person she wanted to see. With him leaving for LA the next morning, she decided to grant him a little more time and drove to Maxine's house.

Thankful for the open door policy, she used her key and walked inside, wedging herself between her sister and Stella on the teak, leather couch.

"I get you two days in a row? Time to play the lotto. Give me some numbers," Max said and wrapped her arms around Nayeli's shoulders.

"You're so extra. Hey Stella." She leaned over to hug her sister-in-law and rub her rounding belly.

"Hey Nye. How are you?"

"I'm alright, you?"

"Gassy. Your niece has decided she hates everything that tastes good."

Nayeli cooed at Stella's baby bump, trying to imagine what she would look like when her own belly was swollen with a son or daughter. Hopefully she'd be blessed with both.

"Three more months until she gets her eviction notice," she said excitedly.

"I'm hoping I get lucky and she comes a little early. If not, somebody will have to induce me. Max was miserable walking around with Diesel past her due date."

"Oh, I remember that. She looked like she was going to cry up until her water broke."

"Which is why you're carrying this time around," Max said to Stella.

"Speaking of, where is my nephew?"

"With Craig until Monday."

"Ooooh, what you guys got planned?" Nayeli asked.

"We're driving to Malibu for the day tomorrow. See the sights, hit up Nobu."

"That'll be a cute little date day."

"Yes, we need it. I'm sure you do, too. Maybe you and Jalen can come with us?" Stella suggested, and a sour taste filled Nayeli's mouth. Maxine hadn't shared their conversation with her wife. Nayeli didn't know whether to be upset or grateful.

"I kicked him out," she revealed, feeling uncomfortable with two pairs of eyes looking directly at either side of her face. Stella placed her hand on her stomach and sat up to get a better look at Nayeli's eyes.

"Did I hear you correctly? You said you kicked him out?"

"Yep. That's a done deal."

"I knew you could do it, but I wasn't sure you would. I'm proud of you, Baby Love," Max said and gave her sister another hug because she knew it was needed.

"Thank you." Nayeli closed her eyes and sighed. For a while, she didn't think she would go through with it either. It was part of the reason she cried so much. She didn't want to let go, but she knew that she had to. The days of her accepting apple cores, mushed peas, and stewed cabbage were over.

"What happened?" Stella asked, shocked at the new development.

"Our priorities didn't align the way I thought." Easiest way to put it without saying too much. She didn't want to repeat the story over and over again. Her wounds had enough salt in them.

"I'm sorry."

"I'll get over it. I'm not the first woman to be bamboozled, and I won't be the last."

"You seem a lot more calm and sure about it than you did yesterday," Max noticed.

"As soon as it clicked that he was only worried about his wants and needs, it was an easy decision to make. Even pleading his case, there was no compromise. It was just a no on his end. No discussion or explanation. Just no. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I'd be sacrificing my dignity if I let the relationship continue. I can't live the rest of my life only being that man's girlfriend or baby momma. I'm worth more than that."

"Damn right, you are." Maxine wanted to take her words back. Proud was an understatement of how she felt. She never thought of Nayeli as weak, but she knew she loved hard. She thought it would take more for her little sister to walk away from a relationship that spanned half a dozen years. Thank God she was wrong, "Did he go quietly?"

"No. I'm not even sure he's gone. I told him to pack the rest of his things and be out by 6 today. He was putting up a fight, but I had a party to cater. I couldn't stick around to watch him, and I really didn't feel like listening to him beg when I know nothing is going to change. He has an interview in LA on Monday, so he should be out of the house tomorrow at the latest. If his stuff isn't gone, it's getting donated to a shelter. I'm changing the locks in the morning."

"Good for you. How was the party?"

"Interesting, to say the least." Nayeli sighed again. No one could have expected the turn of events she faced. A lot of bad came with the good, though the latter did tip the scale. She was happy to be free.

"Say the most," Max urged and muted the TV.

"Grace thinks I've been adopted into a new family."

"Don't fall for it! They want free dessert!" Stella said, eliciting laughter from all three of them.

"A few people thought Ezra and I were dating. I had to shut that down quickly."

"Who's Ezra?"

"Father of the birthday girl, and let me tell you, the man spared no expense. They had a freaking rollercoaster in the parking lot."

"Why not just rent out an amusement park if you're going to go that far?"

"I didn't ask. Not my money, not my business."

"That just seems excessive for a birthday party to me. You got people to come out and build a rollercoaster that's only going to be ridden once or twice? Then they gotta take it down after a few hours?" How much money did the man have to blow, and who the hell was he? Maxine stared at Nayeli in confusion.

"I'm with you, but Tatiana is his whole world. I'm sure she got exactly what she asked for. She picked out the entire spread I made."

"I want to know why his family thought you guys were dating."

"Yes, babe," Max said, "It's time to start asking the real questions because that's a first."

"We're comfortable around each other. I guess a little too comfortable." The way she was being looked at made Nayeli nervous. She didn't want to give off the wrong impression, but playing the day back in her head, she could see how one could come to certain conclusions.

"I'm not following. Explain. You never mentioned an Ezra to me or Leti."

"Because I don't know him well. I've only been around him a handful of times." Though she knew him a bit better, now, thanks to Carmen and Brandy.

"You've been around long enough for his people to think you were together."

"I guess it's kind of easy to jump to that conclusion when a man follows you around a party."

"He followed you?"

"According to his sister. Well, she said she was watching me, and Tati's mom was calling me everything but my name to anyone that would listen so they just put ten on two."

"Okay, I need the full run-down from start to finish because there's scalding tea you are not pouring, and I don't appreciate it. You got in good with the sister and got issues with the baby momma all in one day?"

Nayeli decided not to make things worse for herself by mentioning that she met majority of Ezra's immediate family and spent a significant amount of time with them, that she spent some time alone with him and on their own with Tatiana.

"It's not tea. I just don't have all the details. They don't get along, so he didn't communicate to her that we were coming. She thought we were trying to crash the party and got snippy, and he checked her. She hated my guts after that. She tried to make me leave and everything."

"Please tell me you cussed that hoe out."

"I politely let her know not to mess with me. A curse word was used."

"Man, hell no. You're better than me. Ain't a check in the world worth some bitter baby momma drama."

"Listen, I didn't even need the instructions. I was trying to leave before she came up to me because I knew she had a problem, and I didn't want smoke. Ezra and Tati asked me to stay."

Maxine's eye twitched, and she looked at Stella who was already looking at her. Yeah, Nayeli was definitely comfortable.

"Why?" Stella asked.

"He said he has a good feeling about me."

"It sounds like he wants a taste of the honey pot to me," Max teased.

"I have nothing to taste. Being only a few hours removed from a relationship can make anyone dry out for a while." And seeing the aftermath of not one but two relationships that had blown up, she wanted to steer clear for the time being. She had a lot to prepare for in the upcoming months.

"It's the opposite. Most people get under someone to get over someone else."

"When have you ever known me to do that?" Nayeli asked.

"Never because you wanna be Mother Teresa so bad." Maxine rolled her eyes and unmuted the TV as the commercial ended and Wicked Tuna returned.

"I just don't believe in creating soul ties with random people."

"But it's fun."

"Toxic."

"At least I'm real about it!" Maxine was always honest. Sometimes too honest, but Nayeli preferred it that way. She knew he could always get the real from her big sister, "How are you holding up?" she asked because despite Nayeli seeming calm, she knew the family baby was likely reeling on the inside. She rubbed the top of her back.

"I'm hurt, but I know I did the right thing. You were right in telling me that I had a choice to make. I chose myself."

"As you should. Every single time." Maxine wished she had her sister's strength. There were many times she should've walked away, but she was hard headed. Stubborn. Determined to see things through even if they were bound to fail. Nayeli had the balls to choose herself. It was admirable, so when Maxine heard sniffling and saw a few tears drop, she wrapped her arms around her sister and held her tight, "You're gonna be okay," she promised. She would see to that.

☼☼☼

Empty. Her home felt empty. Artwork was gone. Pictures were gone. The TV in her bedroom was gone. His clothes were gone. His shoes were gone. The bathroom was void of his razors and body wash.

One toothbrush remained, hers.

All traces of Jalen were gone. Just like she wanted. Nothing left behind but a hole in her chest. Truly alone for the first time in twenty-four hours, Nayeli walked into her bedroom and changed out of the clothes she borrowed from Stella into a loose t-shirt and a tattered pair of sweats. Stepping into her solace, she walked to her planter boxes and gently brushed her fingers over the leaves.

The sun warmed her skin as she spent time in her garden, breathing through the pain in her stomach. She watered her trees and veggies, allowed some tears to escape. Breathed some more until she needed to sit because she felt light headed. Tears fell faster as she sank to the grass and braced herself against the side of a planter box.

Her hand brushed across a scratch in the wood, and she looked down to make sure she didn't get a splinter. The scratches were prominent, along with the memory. They came from her nails, grooves carved from feelings of ecstasy flooding her body while Jalen plunged in and out of her on the grass.

For the third time that morning, she burst into tears.

#black fiction #black love #black literature #polyamory #romantic fiction #romance #love #love story

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dykeskeleton · 1 year ago

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better food day today. ate more than i should’ve but i was under my limit. made a tortilla pizza (274) a frozen indian meal (310) that i added chicken (100) to for more protein, and a low cal sundae w salted caramel halo top (93), banana (28) and low cal brownies (31) i made this morning. also was craving fruit so i had a little bit of mango (42), and had 2 coke zeros (0) which i feel kinda gross about, but they did help me feel more full. 878 total 🦋

i’ve gotta do a bunch of work and the weather is really bad today so i won’t be able to swim or kayak unfortunately, but if i have enough energy when i’m done w my work maybe i’ll be walk on the treadmill for a little while. if it doesn’t happen it won’t be the end of the world tho since i feel SO full anyway, i can’t see myself eating more without it feeling like or actually becoming a binge since i already feel kinda sick. started my 24hr fast but may go a bit longer, we’ll see tomorrow hehe.

tuesday i’m gonna aim for a total net of 850 or less… thinking of doing monday fast, tuesday 850, wednesday 800, thursday fast, friday 750, saturday 700, sunday 650 and repeat. obviously if i have less than any of those limits it’s good if not better. maybe meta days at the beginning and end of the month with a 48hr fast somewhere near the middle? i want to try to limit my lax doses unless i absolutely need them, or maybe even just before my monthly 48hr fast. i’m paranoid abt growing dependent on them

#notprojustusingthetags #tw ed sheeran #tw disordered eating #tw ed diet #tw ed rant #mealsp0 #mealspo #mealspø

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festival-of-pudding · 2 years ago

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Prompt- tortilla

okay I have NO idea where this came from?? it just fell out of my head. I blame listening to electro-swing all day. warning: contains old-timey ræcism (but no slurs that would be gross)

“What'd you say your name was, kid?”

“Evan Buckley. I go by Buck.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. You can go by General Eisenhower for all I care, long as you show up on time and don't get sauced with my booze.”

Buck paused before answering, partly to choose his reply, partly to suppress the urge to sock this lousy bastard in the gut. If he didn’t need a job so bad he would never put up with a two-bit wannabe tough-guy like this; but the pay was good, his place was in walking distance, and the guy didn't ask too many questions. So instead, he smiled.

“I never drink on duty.”

“Good.” He gave Buck a once-over, then shrugged. “Well, you got the muscles for it, and the guy at Lou’s said you was good. Why'd you leave there anyway?”

“I—uh—y’see, there was—”

“Never mind, I know that look. You fucked too many waitresses. Well I don’t give a shit about that, just don't knock anyone up.”

He walked past without further comment, and Buck shoved clenched fists into his pockets and followed.

Matter of fact it was the bartender, he thought.

They left the back office and went into the main room. The club wasn’t open yet, but a few employees were already busy: a cigarette girl was lighting the candles in their red globes, while two busboys took the chairs off the tables and a Negro teenager swept the dance floor. Buck nodded at him, and he nodded back.

“He's the only one,” the owner remarked.

Buck made no effort to conceal the expression on his face. “The only one what?”

“Okay, I guess you're one-a them Roosevelt Fair-Employment types. I hear they’re gonna integrate the army when the war’s over.” He glanced at the tattoo on Buck’s forearm. “You serve?”

“Flew a bomber over Italy for six months. Got shot down, messed up my leg enough for a ticket home.”

His unshaven face grew even pastier, and Buck almost grinned.

Yeah, keep talking, you bum. Only thing you ever been served is divorce papers.

“Well, anyway, this is my club. It ain't much, but business is good these days, I gotta say. But my bouncer got drafted, and I couldn’t find a new one.”

With your charming personality? You don't say.

Buck looked around the room. It was a nice place, actually: the bar took up one end, a bandstand the other, with tables and chairs around the dance space in the middle. More employees were arriving, greeting each other as they put their coats away. No one looked particularly miserable: maybe this guy was all bark and no bite, or maybe he picked his targets.

On the bandstand the red curtain moved, then drew aside; four white guys came out, all in matching suits, and started setting up the instruments.

“You got a band?”

“Hired 'em last fall. Thought it’d class up the joint a little. Not my kinda music, but the singer really brings in the broads.”

The curtain moved again, and a Chicano man about Buck's own age appeared. He wore a tan suit with a white shirt rolled up at the wrists, no tie, collar undone; trousers cuffed around his brown saddle shoes, silver chain swinging on his hip, brown fedora cocked at an angle on his shiny slicked-back dark hair.

I’m with the broads, Buck thought.

“That the singer?”

“Yeah.”

“Who is he?”

“Just some pachuco my bartender found, works in a tortilla factory or something, I dunno. I don't usually hire we—”

Buck speared him with a glare and the word died on his lips.

“—but, uh, I let him do his thing as long as he gets in the regular stuff. Gotta keep all the customers happy.”

On the stage, the singer pulled his microphone stand into place with one hand, swigging from a beer in the other. He glanced over at the drummer, who was adjusting his drum stool.

“Hey, man, gimme a brush. I gotta warm up.”

The drummer nodded and started a slow brush-beat, kinda jazz, kinda blues. The singer swigged his beer again, cleared his throat, shrugged his shoulders to loosen up. He waited for the right tempo, then sang in a clear tenor voice.

bésame, bésame mucho como si fuera ésta noche la última vez bésame, bésame mucho que tengo miedo perderte, perderte después

“The dames go nuts for him, but he won't touch 'em. I told him he oughtta dip his wick a little and he just says ‘they’re not my type’. I thought maybe he was a fruit, but I don't think they dress like that.”

But the words had become background noise, and Buck's eyes never left the singer. He held the microphone with one hand, beer dangling from the other, face tilted up to the light, eyes closed. That face was perfect: high cheekbones, strong brow, straight nose, good mouth, and when he opened his eyes Buck saw they were as dark as his hair.

quiero tenerte muy cerca mirarme en tus ojos verte junto a mi piensa que tal vez mañana yo ya estaré lejos, muy lejos de ti…

He turned from the mic and coughed, hummed a few notes, and the brush-beat stopped. He rolled his head around a couple times, hummed again, then drank his beer dry.

At Buck's elbow the owner asked, “When do ya wanna start?”

“No time like the present,” Buck said.

“Fine. I gotta go sign some invoices, you stick around here. Won’t fill up for an hour or two, gives you time to get to know the place.”

Buck nodded absently. As soon as the greasy little man was gone, he headed for the bandstand. The singer looked up as he approached and came forward to meet him.

“You the new bouncer?”

“Uh—yeah, how'd you know?”

One dark eyebrow quirked. “Call it a hunch.”

Buck put out a hand. “Evan Buckley. Buck, actually.”

The singer gave it a firm shake. “Eddie Diaz. Good to know you, Buck.”

“Hey, you, uh, you really got a set of pipes there.”

“Thanks. I’m more of a jump-blues cat, but jazz tunes get the bread.”

Buck understood about three words of that sentence, but he was smiling like he agreed.

“You starting tonight?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then we better get you a beer.”

“Oh, I, I don't drink on duty.”

Eddie raised both eyebrows. “Really? Most cats in your shoes stay half-sauced all the time so they can't feel the punches.”

Buck made a split-second decision. He gave Eddie the good smile. Not the best one, that was reserved for seduction only; the good one was a bit more open to interpretation.

“Well, I'm different than most cats,” he said.

Eddie eyed him for a second, face unreadable. Then a smile spread across his face.

“Yeah, I think you are.” A beat passed, and he added, “Well c’mon, escort me while I get my beer. Do your job, make sure I don't steal outta the cashbox.”

He said it playfully, still smirking, but Buck saw the hard glint that flashed in his eyes.

When they reached the bar Eddie abruptly hopped over the counter like a cowboy in a matinee — he plucked a beer from underneath, popped off the top, and vaulted back over the bar just as nimbly. The chain on his hip jingled against the polished mahogany when he leaned back for the first sip.

"By the way,” he said, “I don't work in a tortilla factory."

“I–I didn’t—”

“My old man does.” Eddie grinned before taking another sip.

Buck shrugged. “My old man’s a dockhand. Ain’t no shame in any man’s work, long as he ain’t hurting anyone.”

Eddie licked his lips before quirked that eyebrow again, pointing with his beer bottle. “And your work is…?”

Buck laughed before he could stop himself. Eddie did too, then slapped him on the back and smiled.

“Come on, güero, I'll introduce you to everyone.”

june fic prompts

#fic prompt #i've created a monster and his name is pachuco eddie #the sunset club #summer of trash 2022 #fp!t #writing tag

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attllhak · 3 years ago

Text

Surface Too Soon .3

@tortilla-of-courage @emenerd hey look it’s chapter 3. Two chapters in a day and I’m on a roll.

General warnings because Ghirahim is in this chapter and he’s, well, he’s Ghirahim. And he’s being creepy.

Anyways, enjoy! (And to Tortilla, sorry for torturing you with vague updates as I wrote. The boy is fine, just shaken up and scared.)

------------------------

Chapter 3: On The Surface

Link did his best to swallow back every pained whimper as the strange woman ran her hands over his body. He still didn’t want to move, because ow, and it wasn’t like he was in a position to complain.

He’d already survived, which was more than he’d expected after he made it past the clouds.

He did end up crying out as she made it to his ankle, jerking it up away from her, sparking more pain along his leg and side.

She sat back, glaring at him slightly.

“Well, you’re not walking,” she huffed, glaring at the offending ankle, which was throbbing quite painfully. “I’ll need to actually be allowed to take a look at that to assess the damage,”

Link frowned at her, shifting his leg a bit further away.

This seemed to frustrate the woman further. “I am trying to help you. I can’t do that unless you let me.”

Link considered this, and considered the pain he was in, and then considered that, ulterior motives aside, he had no idea where he could find help without this woman. Slowly, because ow, he moved his leg back down to her.

He had to grit his teeth as she slid off his boot and sock to inspect his ankle, and then declared it not broken, but still very badly injured.

His ribs, it turned out, were broken in a few places. Which explains the crack he felt.

One of his shoulders had been dislocated, which the woman popped back into place, which was a LOT of ow.

Eventually, with a lot of complaining and pained noises and slow movements, she got Link sitting up against the sand he’d sid down. So he was still kinda laying down.

Which is when he finally got a look at his surroundings. Hard, red rock rose up all around him, the slope above and behind him was all loose sand, and some kind of thick, red liquid sloshed nearby, giving off heat.

“Who are you?” He asked, and filed away quickly that ow, talking hurts.

The woman looked at him, pausing from where she was using the fabric that had been covering her face to wrap his foot. She looked very annoyed for some reason he couldn’t identify.

Link didn’t know why he’d pissed her off by landing here, but he felt a bit bad for it.

“My name is Impa,” she said finally, turning back to his ankle. “I am a servant to the goddess Hylia, meant to protect the Spirit Maiden on her journey to fulfil her destiny,” she finished tying off the fabric and looked up to meet Link’s eyes. “You are not her,”

He lifted his good arm, since the other still hurt to move. “Is that why you’re mad at me?”

She frowned at him, like he wasn’t making sense.

“I’m sorry,” he said, hoping that would help.

This got him a glare.

“You do not need to apologize for not being who I was waiting for,” Impa told him bluntly. “I’m mad, but not at you. I’m mad because you shouldn’t be down here yet. I should be meeting the Spirit Maiden, not the Chosen Hero. Regardless, you are in no shape to fulfil your duty, and I see no sign of Her Grace arriving here. I’ll take you somewhere safer to heal, and we’ll talk more about your destiny then,”

Link had no idea what she meant by most of that, but it was nice to know she wasn’t mad at him.

He did make a few pained noises as she picked him up, balancing him in her arms.

Every movement as she carried him away from the heat and rocks was ow, ow, ow. He really was a giant bruise by now. Also ow.

The green that started popping up was awe inducing. Especially as there came more and more green. Link had never seen so much green before. And the trees! There were so many trees!

He probably should have paid more attention to where they were going, but he was too enthralled with his surroundings to care.

Which was when he noticed the tiny birds.

All thoughts of pain and worry were out the window at this discovery, and he all but begged Impa to stop and let him look at the tiny birds. She said later, and he tried pouting, which didn’t work, and then needled away until she agreed to bring him a tiny bird to hold when they stopped.

That had Link very excited.

Eventually, Link was set down on a very big plant, Impa called it a mushroom when he asked, and was told to stay put. Impa promised to bring him a tiny bird and some healing items.

Link, of course, did not stay put.

His right ankle couldn’t support his weight, so he ended up crawling around instead, doing his best to keep his weight off his left arm.

When Impa got back and finally found him, he was lying on his stomach and chatting with a small creature he met called a kikwi, who was also face down on the ground.

Impa was not pleased in the least.

He drank the potion she brought him, and even got to hold one of the tiny birds after he’d done so. It felt so small and fragile in his hands, and it was so cute. Even his new kikwi friend stood up to also coo over the tiny bird with him.

Machi didn’t understand why Link was so fascinated with the bird, but Machi also was a bit confused by the whole ‘came from the sky thing’, so Link didn’t hold it against him.

Impa just seemed frustrated with him, proceeding to lecture him about why laying on his stomach was bad for his ribs and how he was just going to hurt himself more. Something about pressure on the breaks or whatever.

Link was only about half listening to her. Oh he was trying to pay attention to what she was saying, of course he was. He always got in trouble in class for not focusing, and he knew it was even more important to focus on what she was telling him down here, with so many unknowns.

But, there was just so much happening around him! The trees here were HUGE! And there were so many new kinds of plants! And what even was a mushroom and were they all that big? And the little bird was falling asleep in his hands, which was adorable, and there were more birds flying around. And there was a new bug he’d never seen before on the wall over there.

It was hard to focus on her, was the point. He kept getting distracted by all the new things to look at.

“Are you even listening to me?” She asked, frowning at him.

Link, realizing he’d zoned out and missed most of what she’d said, responded as tactfully as he could think of.

He lifted up the tiny bird to her slightly. “I can feel it’s heartbeat,”

Impa slapped her face.

Link got the slightest hint that maybe, maybe, he was pissing her off a bit.

“I’m sorry,” he said, watching her drag the hand down her face. “There’s just a lot of new things around and I’m having trouble focusing on you. If it helps, I’ve kinda always had trouble paying attention when surrounded by new things,”

She looked very unimpressed.

“Fine,” she sighed. “We’ll talk about all that later. But no more lying on your stomach,”

Link nodded seriously, or as seriously as he could manage. “Yes, ma’am.”

She looked very tired, and while Link didn’t know how much time had passed since he’d fallen that morning (he’d never been good with time and today was not a good day for that) he was still pretty sure it was too early in the day for her to look so exhausted.

He was pretty sure he was at fault for that. Maybe he should apologize?

“Are you hungry?” Impa asked finally, after just looking at him for a while.

Link was about to say no, but then his stomach growled and so he nodded instead. Food never hurt, he figured.

“Stay put. I mean it this time,” Impa pointed at him firmly. “I’ll be right back,”

Link watched her walk off, and figured maybe he should actually listen this time. She had seemed awful annoyed.

“So, what’s it like in the sky?” Machi asked as the silence dragged on.

“Oh, it’s great!” Link grinned. “The stories say the goddess sent us up there a long time ago to protect us. We ride around on big birds called loftwings, and it’s so pretty, and I was supposed to participate in this competition called the Wing Ceremony so I could graduate into the senior class and become a knight. Actually, I wonder who won it. I mean, I know Zelda will be disappointed- HOLY HYLIA ZELDA!”

The bird in his hands startled and flew away, and Machi fell over at Link’s outburst. Link’s hands shot up to fist in his hair, panic and worry constricting his chest.

“Zelda is probably so worried about me! I have to get back to Skyloft, I need to tell her I’m okay!” Link gasped, suddenly remembering that little detail he’d forgotten in his excitement. “I gotta get back to the sky!”

“I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed then, Sky Child,”

Link didn’t like the way that voice slithered along his spine like a snake, making all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He slowly turned his head to see someone standing on one of the mushrooms, smiling at him like a remlit that had just caught a butterfly.

This individual, probably a man if Link had to guess, was very pale, skin fitted white clothing stuck tight like a second skin and a deep red cape sat around the man’s shoulders. Sharp, too big eyes watched Link like he was the most fascinating and precious thing in the world, and it made him feel very uncomfortable. He didn’t like the way this man was looking at him, eyes taking in his form and tracking even the rise and fall of his chest as he wrestled to keep his breathing under control.

There was something very wrong about this man, and Link wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure if his leg could support his weight yet, not that he’d be able to run very far even if it could.

Where was Impa? She said she’d be right back.

“Don’t bother looking for your bodyguard,” the man grinned, noticing Link breaking eye contact to scan the forest where Impa had gone. “She’s a bit, tied up right now,”

The smile on the man’s face made every nerve and muscle in Link’s body scream “RUN!” at him. But he couldn’t run, he’d never make it away in time.

Stall! He thought desperately at himself. Stall so Impa can get back and get you out of here!

“Wh-who are you?” Link asked, fighting his throat and hating how shaky he sounded.

He’d never been in real danger before, though he was pretty sure that’s what this was, and he was terrified. He didn’t know what to do here!

The man grinned wider, and Link felt his stomach twist into uncomfortable knots.

“Oh how rude,” the man cooed. “I hadn’t introduced myself. I am the Demon Lord who presides over the land you look down upon, this world you call the Surface,” he vanished in a cloud of diamonds, then reappeared inches from Link’s face. “You may call me Ghirahim. In truth, I much prefer to be indulged with my full title: Lord Ghirahim. But I’m not fussy,”

Link backpedalled, crawling as fast as he could to put as much distance between himself and the man as he could.

Ghirahim vanished again, this time appearing behind Link to grab his shoulders. Link froze, fear rooting him to the spot. He didn’t dare breathe.

Where was Impa?!

“I’m much more interested in you, however,” the, the demon cooed almost directly into Link’s ear. He suddenly felt nauseous. “Yes, Your Majesty, you are a much more interesting find. I had actually expected your mortal form to be that of a woman, but I’m not complaining about this little surprise. It’s certainly clever, if nothing else,”

Link swallowed down bile, body tense as he felt the man continue to look him over, even from the awkward angle.

Impa, he thought desperately. Please hurry!

“I-I don’t know w-what you’re t-talking about,” Link stammered out, fighting his very uncooperative voice to keep it from shaking too badly. He didn’t really succeed.

Ghirahim chuckled, the sound directly in his ear causing goosebumps to rise up on his skin. It was warm out, but Link shivered.

“No, of course you don’t, not yet. You just got here,” Ghirahim finally vanished again, appearing in front of him, and Link finally let himself breathe, chest heaving and sending him back onto his elbows. “I had thought that goddess-serving dog would have told you, but no matter. Whether you know or not, it doesn’t change my plans. And you, dear boy, are very important to them,”

The sick, pleased smile on Ghirahim's face made Link want to hurl, and scream, and curl up into a ball and cry. He’d never had to deal with someone this, this deranged before, and he was scared. He was scared, and he wanted to go home. He wanted to be back up on Skyloft with Zelda, getting yelled at for not practicing hard enough. He wanted his best friend to smile and tell him this was all a bad dream and hold him tight and tell him it was going to be okay. Hell, he’d even take dealing with Groose over this.

What he wouldn’t give to go back to this morning, and not be here, trapped under the gaze of a demon who seemed so pleased to have caught him.

“Stay away from him!”

Ghirahim turned, dodging sharply as someone moved to attack him.

Impa!

Link gasped in relief. He had never before been so happy to see someone he’d only known for a few hours.

Impa positioned herself between Link and Ghirahim, glaring down the demon lord and turning herself into a barrier.

“Of course, you’re here,” Ghirahim sneered, lips twisting on his face in disgust. “Come to protect your precious Spirit Maiden, hm?”

“Link,” Impa said, ignoring what Ghirahim was saying but never taking her eyes off him. “Run,”

“Imp-” Link tried, voice still shaky and weak sounding.

“GO!” Impa snapped, and Link scrambled around to get moving.

He knew he wouldn’t get far, being as injured as he was, and who knew what other kinds of monsters there were in the woods. He spotted Machi waving to him and scrambled over, ducking behind one of the mushrooms to hide, waved into a small crack in the stone where he curled up to wait, Machi pulling some of the vines to hide him better.

He could hear fighting beyond his hiding spot, and covered his ears with his hands in the hopes of blocking out the sounds of breaking glass and metal on metal. He squeezed his eyes shut too, stomach and chest twisting uncomfortably at every flash of blue and black light.

He had never been so scared or helpless in his life, and he hated it. He hated it, he hated it, he hated it.

He wanted to go home. To where there were no demons out for him or Spirit Maidens or fighting between people to the death. He wanted Zelda to tell him it was okay, like she would when he had nightmares, or when Groose was a bit meaner than usual. He wanted the biggest worry in his life to be whether or not Groose put something in his food or hit him with a spitball during class.

He was done with the Surface, he wanted to go home!

It was far too long before he realized the sound of fighting had stopped. Did, who won? Was Impa okay? Was Ghirahim going to take him away somewhere for some reason he still didn’t understand?

“Link,”

Link slowly opened his eyes and turned his head at the soft voice.

Impa was crouched down next to his hiding spot. She was bleeding in a few places, and her features were creased with worry, but she was okay.

“Are you hurt?” She asked, once she was certain he was looking at her.

Link shook his head, the movement jerky. “Is, is he, is,” he paused to swallow, finding it hard to get his thoughts across and into words. “Gone?” He finally managed.

Impa nodded. “For now, yes, he’s gone,”

Link felt like bursting into tears. He was scared, and mostly alone, and some demon was hunting him and Impa had gotten hurt trying to protect him and-

“I want to go home,” he said quietly, not even really embarrassed by how broken the phrase sounded.

Impa frowned, gently, and offered him her hand. “I know. I can’t get you home right now, though,”

Link sniffed, reaching up to swipe at his eyes. He somehow already knew that.

“Come on, it’s not safe here,” Impa said, offering her hand to him again. “There’s somewhere safe close by where we can at least spend the night, though,”

Link sniffed again, wiping at his face with his sleeve, and accepted her hand, crawling out of the spot he’d hidden in. He felt like a little kid all over again, like he was when his parents had died. Scared and lost and alone, with no idea how anything was going to turn out or if it would even be okay.

Only this time he didn’t have Zelda, or Pipit, or Karane to help him out. There was no Geapora to take him in. Just him, a whole world full of new things and dangers, and Impa.

“Is he going to come back?” Link asked while Impa looked him over for any new injuries.

Impa paused, looking up at him, then turned her eyes back to his arm. “Probably,” she admitted, slowly, like she was trying not to scare him. “Which is why we can’t stay here,”

“What does he even want from me?” Link asked, trying his best not to actually burst into tears. He didn’t want to cry. He could be brave, though he was starting to think he didn’t want to be.

Impa sighed, putting her hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eye. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as he’d feared considering the last time someone held his shoulders.

“He doesn’t want anything from you,” Impa told him seriously. “He wants something from the person he thinks you are. He wants the Spirit Maiden,”

“But I’m not the Spirit Maiden,” Link said, in a way that bordered on a mix of a whine and beg but wasn’t quite either. “Can he leave us alone?”

The sympathetic look Impa gave him did not make him feel better.

“He doesn’t know that, though,” Impa said gently, squeezing his shoulders to try and offer him some comfort. “He thinks you are the Spirit Maiden, which is why he’s targeting you,”

Link could feel himself trembling, and he dropped his eyes away from Impa’s.

“I want to go home,” he repeated, trying his best to blink back scared tears and avoid just curling into a ball.

“I know,” Impa sighed, and he felt a gentle hand brush through his hair. “Come on, let’s head somewhere safe for now. We can work on getting you home once you’re healed,”

Link nodded, sniffling a bit and swiping at his face with his sleeves.

He hated being so helpless. He hated being so scared.

He just hoped Zelda wasn’t hating herself too much for pushing him. It really wasn’t her fault he ended up down here, being hunted by a demon.

He hoped Impa could find him a way home soon, so that he could apologize for worrying her.

He was done being excited by the surface.

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

Text

By Your Doorstep (Part 3)

Summary: Dean talks with Sam about his growing feelings for the reader before inviting her and Tessa over for the evening. Later on in the week, Dean and the reader head out on a date but it doesn’t exactly end smoothly...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,500ish

Warnings: language, brief mention of sex toys, minor frightening situation

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

_________

Dean’s POV

“Hey,” said Dean, answering his phone as he walked around the grocery store after dropping Y/N off at home. “You gonna come over for the game, Sammy?”

“I got a brief I need to write up for my boss unfortunately,” said Sam. “I can’t wait to quit.”

“Same. You tried these baked barbecue chips yet?” asked Dean, picking up a bag.

“Trying to force your guests to be healthy for once, doctor?” teased Sam.

“Well the girls are having a spa day thing I forgot about and Y/N and Tessa are coming over later for the game so I don’t want it to be a total dude fest of beer and more beer,” said Dean, putting the bag back and get some regular baked ones instead. “They should be over by second half but still.”

“Trying to impress this girl or something? With chips?” laughed Sam. Dean groaned and threw his head back. “Dean. You’re overthinking this. You know brownies are the real way to a woman’s heart.”

“See? I knew there was a reason I didn’t hang up on you yet,” said Dean, turning down the snack aisle.

“I take it the date went well if she’s coming over to hang out.”

“Yeah. She’s cool.”

“She’s cool? That’s all I’m gonna get?” asked Sam. “You haven’t had a girlfriend since you were twenty two and now that you have one it’s just cool?”

“Fine. I like her. She’s cute and she smells pretty and she’s…” trailed off Dean, tossing a tub of brownie bites in the cart.

“She’s what?” asked Sam.

“She gets me, gets what we went through.”

“Her parents fuck ups too?”

“No. But they died a few years ago. She’s got a sister about nine years younger. She’s just starting her senior year now. She’s had to raise her the past few years on her own.”

“...She really does get you then,” said Sam. “Where’d you meet her again?”

“I was taking a walk in the neighborhood. She was looking for their dog. They’re having a really hard time of it right now it sounds like but she just, keeps going with a smile.”

“She’s not a damsel though. Don’t try and sweep in and save the day too much you know. You’d hate that.”

“I know. I helped her get a job at our office since she just lost hers and they’re crunched on cash. Plus the sister is going to college next year,” said Dean.

“She should apply to that grant you got. Mr. Y/L/N helped you with it, right?” asked Sam.

“Yeah he...what’d you just say?” asked Dean, pausing in front of the dip section.

“The grant money. It paid for nearly all your undergraduate right?” asked Sam. “It’s the same one I did too.”

“Mr. Y/L/N,” said Dean, shutting his eyes as he realized why Y/N’s house looked so familiar. “Sammy.”

“What?”

“Y/N, the girl, her house...where was Mr. Y/L/N’s house?” asked Dean.

“Over on Pine I think,” said Sam. “I know it’s in your neighborhood somewhere.”

“Oh Sammy. Shit,” said Dean. “I think I know why he stopped talking to us a few years ago. His house, that’s Y/N’s house. Mr. Y/L/N was her dad, Sam.”

“No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way. Fuck,” said Dean adding some sour cream and onion and guacamole to the cart. “She’s gonna think I’m just trying to pay her back for what he did or something.”

“Yeah but you didn’t know that when you got her the job. You gotta tell her at some point but it doesn’t have to be a problem,” said Sam.

“Well what if he went and told his family about the guy he caught stealing? I’m sure she’d think I’m great then. Of course, the one woman that I’m like…”

“You’re like what?” asked Sam. Dean was quiet, heading over towards the beer cooler. “In love with?”

“Geez, Sam. I barely know her. I’m not in love with her,” said Dean. “I just...I could see myself being in love with her.”

“So...you pre-love her,” said Sam.

“Exactly.”

“Yeah there’s no such thing, dumbass. You’re fucking falling for this girl and fast.”

“I know,” said Dean, shutting his eyes by the milk. “She just...she feels like you. Like she’s got no ulterior motive. I just...something is telling me I can’t fuck this up. I’m not supposed to.”

“Then you won’t,” said Sam. “You sure it’s not like that thing with Lisa?”

“That was me ignoring all the crap because I thought somebody loved me. Sam the moment I met this girl like...I don’t know,” said Dean. “I don’t think she’ll fuck me over.”

“I hope she works out. She sounds special.”

“She is and that is terrifying.”

“Dean contrary to what we grew up with and how your love life has gone so far, there are people that have amazing relationships out there. You can be one of them if you want,” he said.

“I know. Take a break and call at halftime or something, okay? The losers miss seeing your face too.”

“I will. Talk to you soon Dean.”

Reader’s POV

“Hello, Y/N,” said Tessa as you walked past her room an hour later. “How was Dean’s?”

“Good. He invited us over later to watch football. Some guys your age will be there too if you’re interested.”

“Alright,” she said. “Hey so you know how we were talking about sex stuff yesterday?”

“Oh yeah. We were gonna talk more,” you said. You took a seat in her desk chair and she sat up on her bed. “The fake dick thing, that was throwing you off, right?”

“Yeah. Well, I kinda talked to Hailey about that stuff last night and she has one. She like showed me it so I kinda get that apparently it feels good if there’s something up there?” she asked.

“Yes, it does. What’s with the questions about sex toys?” you asked.

“I know my birthday is coming up and I’ll be eighteen and I kinda…I’m a hormonal teenager and-”

“I can get you a private gift,” you said with a smile. “Just shut your door if you’re gonna do it when I’m home, okay?”

“I do that now.”

“Good,” you said. “I’ll pick out something small and by the time you want something more, then you can pick that out on your own, okay?”

“Okay,” she said. “Did mom ever...talk about this stuff with you?”

“No,” you said with a laugh. “I found out on my own. It’s perfectly normal and natural and guys aren’t the only ones allowed to get off on their own.”

“Not sure I’d ever ask her anyways,” she said.

“That’s what sisters are for,” you said. “You have fun at Hailey’s then?”

“Mhm. It’s okay if Toast goes to Dean’s later right?”

“Uh, let me check quick,” you said, pulling out your phone.

Hey. Toast can come over too right?

Duh, Y/L/N. He’s more than welcome.

Okay. We’ll see you later.

Later sweetheart.

“Yeah, Toast is cool,” you said. You stood and Tessa cocked her head, smiling at you. “What?”

“How was your date?” she asked.

“I like him. I like him a lot.”

“Good. Tell him if he fucks with you though I’ll kick his ass,” she said. “So will Toast.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it with this one.”

“Whoa, whoa, ladies,” said Dean as you and Tessa started to put on your shoes to head home after the game. “It’s only seven and you two need dinner.”

“What are you making?” asked Tessa.

“I was going to do enchiladas?” he said. Tessa looked at you and you nodded.

“Only if we help though,” you said.

“Alright. Tessa how about you make up some guac for us. You can hang out at the counter, get off that ankle of yours,” said Dean.

“He so likes you,” she said as you walked back with her to the kitchen.

“Yes, I do,” chuckled Dean. Toast followed close by and whined, pawing at your foot. “She okay?”

“My meds are home. Supposed to have them with dinner,” said Tessa with a sigh.

“I can run home and get them real quick,” you said. “Ten minutes.”

“Alright. We’ll get started without you.”

Ten minutes later you were back along with some of Toast’s dog food. You could hear laughter coming from the kitchen, Tessa snorting to herself.

“Here you go dork,” you said, popping the bottle down in front of her.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a few. You used a bowl and fed Toast some dinner while Dean worked on putting the tortillas together. “I like your doctor boyfriend.”

“Oh course you do,” you said, smacking her arm.

“Someone told me she’s turning eighteen in a few weeks. You got any big plans?” he asked as he tucked the last enchilada in a casserole dish.

“We might get a pizza,” said Tessa. “Nothing fancy.”

“Oh I think we can do better than that,” you said with a smile.

“I thought…” said Tessa and you shrugged. “We’re going out? Are we going to Monico’s like we used to?”

“Monico’s? That’s very fancy,” said Dean, giving you a quick look. “You got room for one more?”

“I…” you said, Dean cocking his head. “Sure. You wouldn’t mind, would you Tessa?”

“Yeah, Dean can come,” she said. “Oh shit, would they even let Toast in?”

“He’s a service dog so legally yes, they have to,” said Dean as he popped the casserole in the oven. “Y/N, why don’t you help me set the table. I never eat in the dining room anyways.”

You carried some plates in the room around the front of the house, staring at Dean as he set some spots down.

“Dean. That is a hundred dollar a plate restaurant.”

“It’s her eighteenth birthday and mine was real shitty. I can afford it. Let me. Please.”

“You can’t just buy stuff for her or me.”

“Why not? I like you. I care about you and she’s part of that so I think caring about her is going to be pretty important to you at some point so I might as well start now.”

“Dean.”

“What?”

“Thank you,” you said.

“Oh. Well...okay then.” You left the plates on the table and walked around to where he was, Dean glancing away when you wrapped your arm around his waist.

“Let me go dutch at least.”

“Bake me a pie and we’re even,” he said.

“Alright. Pie is it, Dean.”

Thursday Afternoon

“Hello, Y/N,” said Dean. He grinned as he walked into the lab. “How’s the first week going?”

“She’s a fast learner,” said the lab manager. “What do you need, Winchester?”

“Just saying hi to our new colleague,” he said.

“I already know she’s your girlfriend, Dean.”

“You’re no fun, Wesley,” said Dean. “You like it?”

“I like the pay. Wesley says after a little while I can take some certification courses and work on more complex things. The research hospital tied with the university is really good for that stuff,” you said.

“Oh yeah, those guys do pretty well over there. I think our last tech went on to the radiology program over there. I know blood and urine samples aren’t the most fun thing to work on but-”

“Dean this is more than what I was making as a paralegal even,” you said quietly. “This job is great and Tessa’s on better insurance now. Honestly. I owe you one.”

“All you owe me is a pie,” he chuckled. “You got plans tonight? I know you’ve been busy.”

“I’m free if you had something in mind,” you said.

“Do you maybe want to go out for dinner? Maybe do a round of bowling?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Sounds fun. Pick me up at six thirty?”

“Sounds like a plan sweetheart.”

“Okay, were you conning me?” asked Dean as you walked back to his car that evening. You giggled and he pulled you into a noogie. “How the fuck do you go from a twenty eight your first game to one fifty? There is no way you weren’t pulling a fast one.”

“What can I say, maybe I just needed a warm up game,” you said. Dean ruffled your hair for a moment before fixing it, leaving his arm around your shoulder when your phone rang. “Hey Tess. What’s up?”

“I think somebody’s in the house,” she said quietly. “I’m in my closet with Toast.”

“Dean, call 911,” you said, his hand already moving into his pocket. “Someone’s in the house.”

“Y/N, I think they’re upstairs,” she whispered.

“Don’t say a word. I’m right here and Dean’s calling the cops right now. Toast’ll protect you until they get there okay?” you said.

“Y/N, they say they’re already responding to a call your neighbor put in. The cops are there?” said Dean.

“Hello, Elmdale police department. Anyone home?” said a voice through the phone.

“Tessa it’s okay. Those are the police,” you said. “We’ll be home in five minutes okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

“Thanks again,” you said, saying goodnight to the officers. You shut the door after yourself, Tessa sat on the couch with her arms crossed. “Tessa how many times have I told you. At night, you lock the front door. The storm door is broken and has been forever. The front door’s been wide open for hours.”

“I don’t need you to yell at me,” she said.

“Tessa somebody could have walked right on in and-”

“Oh my God, I know,” she said. She stormed upstairs and slammed her door shut, opening it quickly for Toast to come inside before it slammed again.

“I’ve told her so many times,” you said as you paced the family room. Dean walked over and rubbed your arms, kissing your forehead. “Sorry.”

“She made a mistake. Kids make them. So do adults.”

“I know she’s shaken up,” you said. “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Yeah but maybe she won’t do it again,” he said. “She’s not the only one shaken up.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said.

“How about I crash on the couch tonight,” he said. “Give you girls some peace of mind.”

“You can sleep in my room,” you said.

“I thought you had a twin sized bed,” he chuckled. “The couch is fine. I want to. I wasn’t just talking about you two either.”

“You’re sweet,” you said.

“Oh I’m very aware,” he said. “Go talk to your sister.”

“There’s blankets in the cupboard under the TV,” you said.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said. He kissed you and you headed upstairs, knocking on Tessa’s door.

“Tess. Can we talk?” you asked. The door opened slowly and she had her arms crossed at you. “I’m sorry for freaking out. I got scared too.”

“I’m sorry I forgot about the door again,” she said quietly.

“Tessa, we...we gotta protect ourselves. We gotta make sure we do things like lock doors and windows at night. Two young women alone in a house...I know your mind already went there once tonight. Please, please remember to lock the door from now, okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

“Dean’s gonna stay the night on the couch downstairs,” you said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry. Nothing’s gonna get past him,” you said.

“He seems like a really good guy. You deserve one of those,” she said.

“I think so too,” you said. “Night.”

“Night, Y/N.”

Dean’s POV

“Sammy boy, isn’t it past your bedtime?” chuckled Dean as he answered his phone, watching some late night TV quietly from Y/N’s couch.

“Shut up. How big is the guest room at your house? I was thinking of getting a new bed and just having it delivered there.”

“Oh, you finally gonna get off that tiny ass mattress?” teased Dean.

“De…”

“You can have the spare bedroom at the end. It’s bigger, got it’s own attached bath. Plus it’s empty so win win.”

“Would a king fit?” he asked.

“Probably. I’m not home right now but I can measure tomorrow for you,” said Dean.

“On a hot date?” laughed Sam.

“I was. Y/N’s little sister had a bit of a scare.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Kid just accidentally left the front door open and neighbor called the cops, cops came, Tessa heard it and freaked a bit. I’m crashing on the couch for the night. They’re a little shook up still.”

“Well someone’s gonna get some brownie points for that one.”

“Nah, Y/N knows I’m only here cause I want to be, dude.”

“Not at all what I said but whatever. Oh by the way, I got another call from mom today. I let it go to voicemail.”

“What’d she say?” sighed Dean, running his hand through his hair.

“She just like...wanted to say she’s thinking about us, like both of us or some shit.”

“Oh that’s nice. Better late than never, ain’t that right Sammy?” said Dean, rolling his eyes and laying down on the couch.

“Dean. I’m not saying...can I ask why you hate her so much?” Sam asked after a beat. Dean moved the phone away and shut his eyes. He put his head down and let out a deep breathe, moving the phone back. “De.”

“She’s not a good person. You know that. Leave it at that.”

“Did she smack you around too?” asked Sam quietly.

“Dad at least you knew was an asshole. She pretended she wasn’t though and she’s just a bitch that blames her shitty life on us when we turned out awesome. She can get fucked along with him.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Yeah. Block her number Sam. It’s the best thing you can do.”

“You think there’s no chance of anything with her then.”

“Mom’s shouldn’t tell their kids the shit she said to me. Ever. I’m just glad you never got it as much.”

“I punched her in the leg once,” chuckled Sam. “Got my ass spanked but it was worth it.”

“What’d she do?”

“I just remember she made you cry real bad and I got as pissed off as a seven year old could.”

“We got each other’s backs,” said Dean. “All that matters.”

“Tell me about Y/N,” said Sam, Dean shaking his head. “Come on. No more depressing shit. She sounded cute when I talked to her at the game Sunday. I bet she’s cute.”

“She is,” said Dean. “I’m super into her, like super into her, don’t get me wrong but like...I just like her too. Like she’s gorgeous but it’s not like, why I’m attracted? I’m probably not saying this right.”

“I get what you’re saying,” said Sam. “You should totally take her to Mel’s for dinner tomorrow.”

“I really ought to take her to a sit down restaurant before she runs off on me.”

“Mel’s is sit down.”

“Mel’s is greasy burgers and pulled pork at picnic tables.”

“If she doesn’t like Mel’s I can’t like this girl Dean. I’m sorry but those are just facts,” said Sam. Dean rolled his eyes and smiled, staring up at the ceiling.

“We could get the sweetheart special. My cholesterol won’t like it but my soul will,” chuckled Dean. “Really? Mel’s?”

“If that girl doesn’t love the ice box pie at the end, she is certifiable,” said Sam.

“I have faith in this one,” said Dean. He shut his eyes and hummed. “You really want to listen to me talk about her?”

“I got about two hundred pages to sign and stamp. I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Alright. You asked for it.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #doctor!dean #au!dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn

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tessxblxckthorn · 4 years ago

Text

you’re more to me

@juulies and again: happy holidays love!! (2/2)

a short juke soulmate au cause meg wrote that she likes the trope so i thought why not... english isn’t my first language and I haven’t written in quite some time so please have mercy and enjoy!

It took her an entire day to realise. Julie could see colors. Actual, vibrant colors. Not the dull, grey-ish colors she had seen her entire life but the bright red of the painted dahlias on her bedroom walls, the vivid blue of the Los Angeles sky, the deep violet of the string that was still braided into her hair from yesterday's performance in the Orpheum.

It had all been so chaotic that Julie hadn't had a minute to breath and, well, realise that she had met her soulmate.

Her soulmate.

Of course she knew about soulmates and that, after finding yours and having direct skin contact with them, you could see every beautiful color that exists. But she also knew that many people never, ever found theirs. Sure, her parents had been soulmates, but they were lucky. Flynn's parents weren't soulmates, Carries definitely hadn't been.

While there were a lot of soulmate-couples, people just didn't want to get their hopes up just to never find theirs. So that's why, at the young age of 10, Flynn and Julie had stopped believing that they would eventually find their perfect match, simply because this wasn’t a perfect world.

And now, at age 16, Julie was laying in her bedroom on her bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how on earth she could’ve missed meeting her soulmate. Because that was what had happened, right? She must have bumped into them at the show or while running out on the street when she thought the guys had died...or stopped existing or whatever...or when she went home with her dad and Carlos or-

There was a loud bang coming from her closed door followed by a groan and a curse.

“Come in!”, Julie called out, sitting up and pushing her messy hair out of her face.

“Damn it”, Alex groaned and closed the door behind him. “Still haven't adjusted completely to being alive again, thought I could just materialize through the door.”

Julie laughed softly. “Yeah, I heard that.”

“Pretty sure your dad thinks we’re absolute weirdos now, Reggie just said good-bye in the kitchen and then jumped up before realising he couldn't poof out.”

Jup, that sounded like Reggie.

“Anyway, the boys and I wanted to drive back to the Orpheum, you wanna come?”

“Weren't you at the Orpheum this morning?”, Julie asked confused, while starting to fold her costume from yesterday's performance.

“True, but...Lukethinkshemethissoulmatethere”, Alex muttered under his breath, looking at the, suddenly so interesting, blanket that was thrown over Julie's bed.

Said girl froze up. Had she heard correctly? “Uhm Luke- he- what?”

Alex sighed and pushed his blond hair back, a habit he did a lot when he was anxious. “Ok, so- I mean- Luke- He- he can see colors now, like the kind of colors you can only see after you met your soulmate? And he can see the colors since this morning so he thinks he met them while we were back at the Orpheum to meet with Willie.”

“Oh…”, Julie said, dropping her hands that were still folding into her lap. No, it was stupid. Of course she hadn't thought or hoped her soulmate would be Luke. He was dead. Well, now he was alive again, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Luke Patterson couldn't be her soulmate. Eventhough, for some dumb, idiotic reason, her heart apparently had wished he was.

“Yeah…”, Alex agreed, awkwardly fingering at the blanket. He wasn’t dumb, in fact, he was probably the most observant of the three boys and it wasn’t difficult to identify the way Luke looked at Julie. Not only at the performances but all the time.

“Uhm- I- Flynn’s coming over so…”, Julie trailed off. “We’re having a girls night.” More like a “freaking-out-about-who-could-be-Julie’s-soulmate”-night or a “crying-over-the-fact-that-Luke’s-not-her-soulmate”- night. She hadn’t decided yet, but judging by the lump in her throat it seemed that the latter was more possible.

“Oh ok. Yeah, sure.”

Julie nodded slowly.

“Okayyyyy”, Alex scratched his neck. “Then I'm going to go now. With the boys. To the Orpheum.” She nodded again.

By the time he had closed her bedroom door again, after softly smiling at her with his annoyingly nice “I-know-what’s-going-on-and-you-can-always-talk-to-me-but-I-don’t-want-to-push-you”-look, Julie was fighting the tears.

The last two hours, after she realized that she could see colors, she had spent thinking about every person that could or couldn't be her soulmate. It couldn't be anyone she actually knew, because she had had direct skin contact with all of them at some point before yesterday. All of them except Luke, Reggie and Alex. Not Alex, because he’s gay and terribly in love with this Willie she had yet to meet. Not Reggie, because he was like a brother to her and he still couldn't see colors.

And not Luke, because he had met his soulmate this morning. And not last night like she apparently had, simply because she hadn’t left the house since then.

So it had to be some stranger, right? And still, everytime she thought about her soulmate, she thought about Luke’s piercing hazel eyes, his perfect smile and his soft brown hair and-

“Oh my god”, Flynn shouted, slamming the door shut behind her. “You can’t just text me that you met your soulmate without any details!”

Julie flinched and instantly shushed her. “Flynn! No one else knows! Shut up!”

“Oh Julie, I’m not stupid. Ray and Carlos went grocery shopping and the boys just passed me, saying they want to go to the Orpheum or something? Whatever, I need the details!”, Julie's best friend threw her bag beside Julie’s desk and jumped onto her bed.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Flynn laughed loudly and then looked back to Julie. She went quiet. “No”, she said. “No, no, cause I thought I just heard that you said you didn’t know who your soulmate is but I must have misunderstood.”

Julie sighed and layed back down next to Flynn. “You don't know? How can you not know? You met your soulmate, are able to see colors now and tell me you don't know who it was? How can you not know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Julie…”

“Seriously, Flynn. I don't know, okay? And it's horrible! I didn’t even realize I’m able to see colors now till this morning. I don’t remember suddenly being able to see colors after touching someone, okay? It was all so chaotic yesterday. The performance. The boys missing. Then I thought the boys were gone. Then they weren’t. Then they nearly died of those jolts in the garage. Then they were suddenly alive again. Then I had to explain to my dad why the hologram band from Sweden is in the garage. It was all messy and chaotic and I must have missed it.”

“Breathe, Julie.”

“I am breathing!”, Julie cried out, hiding her face in one of her pillows.

She felt Flynn soothingly patting her shoulder.

“So it isn't Luke?”, the girl said softly after a while. Julie choked and pushed down her tears. She shook her head, still buried in the pillow.

“But you thought he would be.” Julie went still and then shook her head again. “I guess I hoped it would be him.”

“Oh…”, Flynn mumbled and went back to rubbing her best friend's shoulder. While she had been against bonding with Luke and more one Team Nick, she knew that Julie had fallen for the ghost-boy. And, well, she’d mostly been against Luke because he was a ghost...which he wasn’t anymore.

“So did you tell the boys?”, Flynn asked hesitantly when Julie showed her face again and sat back against the headboard.

“Nope”, she croaked and cleared her throat. “I wanted to think and then tell the boys. But then they were busy trying to find Luke’s soulmate.”

Flynn opened her mouth and closed it again. “Wait so Luke met his soulmate too? When?”

“This morning at the Orpheum apparently”, Julie answered bitterly.

“This morning? Is he sure?”, Julie shrugged. “I don’t know, that’s what Alex said.”

“Ok, so you haven’t talked to him or, you know, touched him? I mean, what if he only realized this morning he could see colors? Touching him-”

“would either dull or brighten the colors.”, Julie finished, looking at Flynn wearily. “I forgot about that part to be honest.” Flynn was beaming. “But, Flynn, I really don’t want to get my hopes up just to be disappointed again, okay? And who knows, maybe Luke found his soulmate already.”

“Nuh-uh, you gotta be optimistic, okay? Everyone can see the way you two look at each other!” Julie frowned slightly. God, how she wanted to believe Luke could be her soulmate...she just didn't want her heart to be crushed when reality set in.

“Anyway, we gotta change that topic because we can’t do anything about it right now. But before we start the Netflix marathon we gotta go to the kitchen or I’ll starve.”

Julie laughed and rolled her eyes but followed her friend.

The two girls were in the middle of topping off their tortilla chips platter with cheese when the front door was opened.

“So, let me sup it up”, they heard Alex's confused voice. “You don't actually know you met your soulmate this morning, you just didn't realize before then that you could see colors? So you meeting and touching them also could’ve been yesterday. Which actually seems more plausible, if you think about-”, the blond boy stopped abruptly, Luke next to him, when he saw the girls sitting at the counter frozen up and...listening.

“But the only person you touched yesterday, other than us, is Julie so- ohhhh”, Reggie bumped into Luke and shut up when he saw their faces.

There was silence for about five seconds in which everyone in the room realized what Reggies statement meant before Flynn hopped from her chair. “Reggie, Alex, you have to help me pick out a movie upstairs. Now.”

And Julie and Luke, still frozen up, were alone.

“So-”

“I-”, they started at the same time. Julie blushed. “You go first.”

Luke nodded awkwardly and walked towards her, sitting down on the chair opposite to her.

“I didn't realize it till today. I don’t know why i thought it might’ve been someone at the meeting with Willie today but I thought you couldn’t see colors and I didn’t want to get my hopes up, and-”, he was cute when he rambled, Julie thought, but stopped him from any more talking by reaching out and taking his hand that was on the counter in front of her. Every color in the room seemed to get even brighter momentarily and Julie gaped. Luke did too.

“So, that was fool-proof.” Luke laughed lightly and slowly took her hand in his. Julie couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

“I didn’t realize it till this morning either. And i wanted to think first but then Alex told me you had met your soulmate this morning but i had to have met my soulmate yesterday so I thought- wait, did you just say you didn’t want to get your hopes up?”

Luke grinned but blushed. “I kinda thought it was obvious, you know, that you mean a lot to me.”

Julie’s heart seemed to beat faster and she squeezed his hand. “Well, apparently everyone but me realized it but...it’s mutual, Luke.”

The boy smiled widely and pressed a shy kiss to their joined hands. “Good to know.”

Julie swore she never smiled that hard ever before.

#netflix #jatp #jatpdaily #secret santa #julie and the phantoms #Julie and Luke #jatp julie #juke imagine #luke patterson #luke jatp #julie molina

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roxa-sos · 4 years ago

Text

hey, sweetie - best friend!jj maybank

best friend!jj x pogue!reader

tw; creepy men

request; "like they’re best friends, not dating but they see the situation and come up to the reader like “hey babe, i was looking for u!” even tho they aren’t dating to get them to go away. so cute awhshsh and this fr happened to me once lol"

a/n -- jnnng i love this so much 🥺

"what's a pretty girl like you doing out alone?" you heard a voice next to you, one you didn't recognize. you had one objective: get snacks for the pogues for your boat day. not too bad, and it was usually the job you got stuck with.

"grocery shopping, what does it look like?" you laughed, swinging the basket at your side as you looked at the array of chips sitting on the shelf.

"fair enough, that was a bad line," he admitted, grabbing a bag of tortilla chips. "getting ready for a party or something?" he asked, looking at what you were buying. sandwich stuff, chips, soda, nothing special.

"what if i am? you wanna be invited?" you teased, turning to look at him. granted, he was pretty cute. definitely older than you, he looked more like a kook, than anything else. in a polo, sporting short, messy brown hair, covered in freckles.

"maybe i do," he shrugged, meeting your gaze. "i've got a buddy down buying booze right now, we could provide."

"hard pass." you shook your head- kie always stole beers for you guys. kie or john b, either way, you didn't need any from him.

"oh, come on, what's a guy gotta do to get invited to a party where you're gonna be?" he asked, leaning on the shelf.

"not interested, sorry," you grabbed two bags of chips and threw them in the basket, walking away. creepy guys in grocery stores, that was a new place to add to your 'weird places ive been hit on' list.

a few aisles later, you'd been able to get everything you needed for less than fifty bucks, which was a pretty good deal. now you just had to make it back out to your car and down to the chateau.

four grocery bags in hand, you exited the store, beginning to walk out in the parking lot.

"hey, sweetie!" you heard that voice again - the guy from the chip aisle.

"you want something?" you asked angrily, seeing as he was holding you up. he jogged over to you, his blond friend right next to him. you were fifty feet from your car, you'd been so close.

"how about a little more time with you? you can't tell me you're holding a party and then not invite us." he spoke like he was being reasonable, but you didn't even know his name.

"i already said no," you began, taking another step away from him.

"babe, i wasn't really asking," he interrupted you, placing his hand on your shoulder. you shrugged it off, you would've slapped him, but your hands were full.

you were panicking. just a little, but you could feel that gut-wrenching feeling growing. two to one, they looked rich and pissed off. those were the kinds of guys you weren't supposed to fuck with.

"hey, baby, i was waiting for you!" jj's voice came from nowhere, and you saw him dodging cars, running towards you. "took you a while, i was getting worried. who are these guys?" he asked, taking two bags from your hands and wrapping his free arm around your shoulders.

thank. god. jj had a fresh bruise on his cheek and a false smile on his face as he looked at the two guys who'd approached you, and he looked just intimidating enough to get people to back off.

"nobody, j, they're nobody." you said, avoiding eye contact with them.

"sorry, man, didn't know she was your girl." the brunette muttered, backing up.

"yeah, yeah, and even if she wasn't, i think it'd be best if you stopped anyways," jj nodded, shooing them off. "there you go, yeah, bye!" he waved them away with false happiness, turning the two of you around. "why don't we just head to the volkswagen and grab your car later?" he whispered, turning you towards the van.

"good idea." you laughed nervously as he walked you over, taking all four bags from you.

#outer banks #obx #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #best friend!jj maybank #obx fic #outer banks fic #outer banks imagines #outer banks imagine #jj maybank imagine #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj outer banks imagine

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asimovsideburns · 5 years ago

Text

It’s late, and he should be trancing. It’s two am, three am, six am, and he should be trancing. The problem isn’t that he doesn’t know he should be trancing, he knows he should be trancing. Gotta get those four hours in, gods, it’s just four hours how is that so hard, but it is. The thoughts racing through his mind, did he cast the right spell, did he say the right thing, was his smile too wide or too crooked or too fake or too real.

Did the people he killed today deserve it.

Fuck it.

A walk on the quad, sun rises early on the moon but the people rise late, trashed after a celebration that went on long after he excused himself, gotta get those winks, beauty like this doesn’t last if you don’t take care of yourself—doesn’t say he hates the crowds, now, hates the people slapping him on the back and congratulating him, the sick feeling he gets when he watches someone scarf down the snacks, he fed them their deaths.

Couldn’t even open the bag of tortilla chips.

He finds a comfortable spot beneath a tree, lets the sunlight wash over him, hoping a change of scenery will jar loose the looping thoughts and finally let him rest, when he sees the figure closing in on him. Not closing in, just approaching, why does he feel like a cornered animal all of a sudden, but then the figure steps out of the sunlight and it’s just Davenport. Harmless, weird Davenport.

“Early riser, huh? That’s cool, me, too.”

“Davenport,” he says, sitting down next to him.

“Of course I slept. Like a baby. Didn’t even notice the racket you guys were making.”

“Davenport!”

“Can’t fool you, can I? Nah. It’s cool, not your fault I couldn’t sleep.”

“Davenport.”

Davenport pats him on the shoulder companionably. He doesn’t pull away.

“Do you ever think… nah.”

“Davenport?” Davenport asks, offering him an apple.

“No, thanks, I’m good.”

Davenport shrugs and puts the apple in his bag.

“Is it worth it, do you think? Is what we do worth all the things that brought us here? The people I poisoned and the names Magnus yells in his sleep and… well, whatever Merle’s got going on?”

Davenport pulls out a brush and gestures questioningly to his hair. He shrugs, but in the way that means sure, why not instead of the way that means whatever, fuck off.

Davenport begins brushing his hair.

“I guess Merle seems okay, except for his weird plant thing. You think that’s because of something fucked up in his past or just how he always was? Gross as hell, either way. I called the plants in his room a ‘harem’ the other day and he got this thoughtful look on his face that made me regret my entire life. Teach me to make a joke.”

Davenport begins braiding.

“I guess I just think… sometimes I wonder… did those people have to die so I could be here and make a difference? Or would I have found my way here anyway? Maybe somebody else could do what I do. Collect the relics. But everybody else failed, and we didn’t, so what does that mean? Is it, like, the will of the gods?”

Davenport shrugs. “Davenport.”

“Pretty fucked up gods that force a town to die to put someone in the right place at the right time.”

Davenport finishes the braid, and sits next to him again.

“I… I… I’m Davenport,” he struggles.

“I know. If you tell anybody I have emotions, though, you’re gonna be a pigeon, and then you’re gonna be squab. Got it?”

“Davenport,” Davenport nods.

“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna sit back and enjoy the sunshine.”

And he lays down, at last, to rest.

#the adventure zone #taz fic #taako #davenport #my writing #why is tumblr mobile spacing so weird #also i cant seem to insert a readmore anymore so whoops! sorry!#it’s not that long #id do it on the computer but i don’t got one no more!#this fic is called #meditation and rumination

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sortasirius · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: Dean drives Sam to the library routinely & pretends he hates it (but Sam knows he has a library card). Dean's started seeing a new face in the library, always reading books about spiders, but he doesnt how to break the ice. Until one day, he finally sits down and invites Cas over to his place to see his pet tarantula. When they get there, the tarantula is missing. Both are afraid of spiders: Cas was only researching for an assignment & Dean only got a tarantula to impress Cas.

This is literally the funniest prompt I have ever received, I literally laughed for a minute straight when I read it. Thank you so much, this was such a fun one to write, I hope you like it!

Words: 2063 (what can I say, the spider sparked my creativity)

Dean pretends to hate the library. Someone had to put up the front of being the cool intimidating brother, and they both knew that wasn’t going to be Sam, even though he was about a foot taller than Dean now. No, that didn’t make Dean self-conscious.

He takes Sam to the library at least once a week, Sam insists he studies better when he was there, Dean rolling his eyes and relenting, sprawling out in one of the hard wooden chairs and pretending to be bored on his phone until he could sneak off to peruse the stacks himself, where he was sure Sam wouldn’t see him. He reads Tolstoy and Vonnegut and Dostoyevsky and Salinger, even dipping into those Hunger Games books that everyone was so unto a few years before (his review? They’re pretty good, make him feel like he’s a fast reader).

It’s an easy routine, something that Dean will never in a million years admit how much he enjoys. The quiet shelves that all smell like dust, pencil shavings, and old books are peaceful, something that makes him feel like he can breathe a little easier, that life is a simple as sinking down onto the worn, stained carpet, his back being poked by a metal divider between the S’s and the T’s and losing himself in the inky words printed on the page.

One Sunday in the dead of winter, Dean’s in his usual hiding place in the back corner of the library. It’s a little darker here, but when your eyes get used to the lower light, it’s easy to read. He’s lost in the world of Jack Kerouac’s On The Road today, and is so immersed that he doesn’t even notice someone looking at the shelves next to him, right up until they trip over his feet in the aisle and crash onto the floor with a thud loud enough to shake the books stacked towards the ceiling.

“Shit!” Dean cries in a stage whisper, surprised, but not surprised enough to use a regular speaking voice, he isn’t an animal, this is a library after all. He scrambles to help the person up in the semi-darkness and then is face to face with a pair of wide blue eyes.

“Sorry,” the stranger whispers, trying to arrange his clothes, which Dean notices fit the attire of a college professor more than a student, and this guy looked like a student.

“S’no problem, my fault, I probably shouldn’t sit in the middle of the aisle.”

The guy nods, smiling a little shyly, and then hurries off before Dean can even catch his name. Damn. He was good looking too.

Dean sheepishly moves out of the aisle and to a small table which, though more in the light, is also open enough that Sam could see him if he walks by, and Dean still wasn’t sure he wants to deal with the smug look that would take up residence on his brother’s face if he saw him reading. But man, this book was just a little too good to put down.

Surprise surprise, he does get caught. Sam taps him on the shoulder with a wide grin, his bag hooked over his shoulder, clearly ready to go.

“So much for hating the library huh?”

“Ok, whatever, I just come here for the pictures.”

“Kerouac isn’t exactly kid’s stuff.”

Dean rolls his eyes and gets to his feet, looking anywhere but at Sam. He tucks the book under his arm. He had to check it out and finish it tonight, it’s just that good.

They walk by the guy that had tripped over Dean earlier. He’s hunched over his table, his hands flying across a notepad he has next to him, several books about spiders spread out around him. Dean makes a mental note of it. He was going to talk to that guy if he saw him again, he’s always up for a good challenge, and spider-boy looked like the perfect one.

He does see spider-boy again the next week, when Sam simply has to study for a midterm he has coming up. He’s wearing thick glasses with dark frames this time, his nose an inch from the diagram of a garden spider he’s copying. Dean tries to work up the courage to go talk to him, but there’s something so taboo about interrupting someone when they’re so clearly in a groove, so Dean watches him from the non-fiction section, observing the way his hair brushes the edge of the book he’s staring at, and the way he cracks his knuckles every so often when his hand starts cramping.

Dean decides he’s being a freak. He goes back to his little table and picks up Tortilla Flat by Steinbeck.

It goes on like this for nearly two months. Dean sees spider-boy every week, who’s name, he learns, is Cas, always at the same table, always working on something to do with spiders. And every week, Dean swears he’s going to go talk to him, but he has no idea how. He’s never been this nervous to talk to someone, but there’s a little nagging voice in the back of his head, what if this guy thought he was an idiot? What if they had nothing to talk about?

So, he does what he does best: he hatches a master plan at his little table in the back of the library.

He’s a genius.

“You’re an idiot,” Sam sighs, staring out the window of the Impala at the looming brick building of the library grew closer. Dean had put his plan into action the day before, and was eager to get to the library and ask Cas to come home with him, see his prize. He had insisted that Sam get a ride home with his girlfriend, and Sam had been only too happy to oblige.

“This’ll make a great story for Eileen I guess.”

“This is going to work.”

Sam laughs again.

“Like I said, you’re an idiot.”

Dean doesn’t waste time. The second he steps inside, and smells the familiar old-book smell, he heads straight for Cas’ table. Cas is wearing his glasses today, and is reading a book called The History of the Arachnid, he’s leaning back on his chair so two legs were off the ground. A rebel. Dean’s kinda guy.

Dean plops down across from him, and Cas lowers his book in surprise.

“Hi, you probably don’t remember me-”

“I see you every week.”

This catches Dean off guard. Cas arches an eyebrow, and then laughs a little.

“I’m Cas.”

Dean knows this, the librarian, Mrs. Covere, is a total gossip who loves Dean, and he had wheedled it out of her three weeks prior to hatching his plan.

“Hi Cas, I’m Dean.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean,” Cas smiles at him, clearly intrigued, and Dean isn’t going to disappoint.

“Listen,” Dean starts, leaning across the table with his hands clasped in front of him, “I see you reading a lot about spiders. And, though there are other books out there, I was wondering if you wanted to stope reading about them and come meet a real one.”

Cas pales by a few degrees, and Dean rushes to explain so he doesn’t come across like a total freak.

“It’s just. Uh, well, I just got this guy, and he seems pretty cool, and you, uh, seem into spiders and I was just wondering if you, like you totally don’t have to, I don’t want to make it seem like, anyway, uh, the offer’s there? I guess…”

He trails off, kicking himself for rambling so much. That was not part of the master plan. But Cas, though still pale, smiles at him again.

“Sure, as long as you promise not to murder me.”

Dean grins back.

“Scout’s honor,” he raises his hand in salute, “You can ask Mrs. Covere, she’ll vouch for me.”

The ride over to Sam and Dean’s shared apartment with Cas is quiet. He doesn’t seem to feel every silence with words, and Dean’s the same, he likes that. He wasn’t sure he could talk much anyway, he would probably say something that would ruin the surprise.

Dean jumps out of the car and hustles to his door the second he parks, and Cas follows, still with those wide, interested eyes, his reading glasses tucked carefully into the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Dean had never seen anyone dress so formally all the time, he would have to ask him about it, after his amazing ice-breaker.

Dean heads straight for the enclosure the man at the pet store had suggested to him, looks in the tank…and his stomach falls into his shoes.

There is supposed to be a tarantula that Dean had purchased in that tank. There is not a tarantula in that tank.

“Ha ha,” Cas is standing next to him, also looking into the clearly empty tank, “Good one. Where did you hide it?”

Dean’s throat is very dry. His eyes flick from floor, to wall, to ceiling. Can they even get on the ceiling?

“Um. This isn’t a joke. He, uh, got out I guess.”

Cas eyes widen with palpable fear, he takes an automatic step toward the door.

“Oh hell no, nope no, I gotta go.”

“Wait! You’re the only one here with any idea at all what to do!”

Cas gapes at him, Dean feels like he’s hyperventilating, suddenly feeling like there was maybe something on his back.

“What do you mean? I don’t know anything about-”

“You’ve read nothing but spider books for the last two months!”

“It was for my term paper! I hate spiders!”

“Well I do too!”

“Then why do you have one in your house?!”

“Because it was my master plan! I thought it would impress you!”

Cas splutters, half laughing.

“Wait,” Dean continues, “Why did you come with me if you hate spiders?”

“Because I wanted to impress you,” Cas cries, still looking all around the room for their missing spider friend. Dean follow his eyes, searching for the traitor. He was supposed to get him laid, not be a cock block.

You’re gonna have such a cool home after this too, he thinks bitterly, you do this to me, and I’m going to give you to Charlie. She loves all kinds of weird pets, you’ll be living the dream, I don’t deserve this man.

Yes, he’s talking to a tarantula in his head, these are desperate times.

He looks up at Cas, half desperate, half terrified that Cas was going to walk out the door and start going to the library across town.

“Listen, please help me find him, and I swear I’ll take you on a normal date after.”

Cas just nods.

It takes them the better part of an hour to track down the spider, who is hiding in the corner of the living room by Dean’s guitar, and then ten minutes of rock, paper, scissors to decide who picks him up. Dean loses, damn paper, and doesn’t immediately yell when it crawls on his hand because this is a delicate operation and, even though he hates spiders, he actually didn’t want to freak the little dude out.

Dean calls Charlie immediately after he’s back in his enclosure, and tells her she needs to come grab her new pet ASAP. He and Cas sit on the couch, staring at the lighted enclosure, trying to make sure the tarantula stayed in place this time.

Charlie shows up ten minutes later, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and happily scoops the spider into a “travel carrier” as she calls it. Dean carries all the spider supplies out to her car, and as she straps him carefully into the passenger seat she calls,

“Say bye to Aragog!”

Dean and Cas wave as she drives away, Charlie eyeing Dean from her rearview mirror. He knows he’s going to have to give a full report later.

“I have to say,” Cas says quietly after a minute, “That was the most fun I’ve ever had on a first date.”

Dean’s heart skips a beat.

“Just how I drew it up. You hungry? Let’s go get something to eat.”

Cas slides his hand into Dean’s as they walk towards his car, and Dean can’t help but think he owes Aragog a drink or two.

#my writing #anonymous #lilly answers #yall i am ALWAYS down for prompts #destiel #spn

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utterlyinevitable · 4 years ago

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give me a headcanon where Bryce (who works at chipotle) gives Becca a “special napkin” with his number on it LOL. A guy just did that to me I sent u a pic 💀✨ me when I’m a minor but also me when I am gonna troll him. ly 💖 ayla

the way i read this first and then ran upstairs to check my phone 🙈😅

Ok but, instead of Chipotle it’s the Mexican counter in the dining hall because we’ve got ourselves uni students bryce and becca 😎

Bryce x Becca Meet at Burrito Bar

Becca has only been to Mills Dining Hall a handful of times. It’s on the other side of campus and has a smaller selection than the main dining hall. She really only goes there when she’s craving Asian fusion or Mexican.

This semester she and Sienna had class nearby. So the two girls made a habit of grabbing lunch at Mills every Tuesday and Thursday.

Bryce worked at the Mexican stall to pay his way through college until his 21st birthday. As soon as he turns 21 he’d apply for a gig as a bartender at every bar nearby.

He heard her laugh before he ever saw her.

Four people down his queue was the brunette speaking with her doe eyed friend.

Once it was her turn, Sienna went to go find them a table.

“I’ve never been here before - what do you suggest?” she asked as she pointed to the assembly line of ingredients. “Do you like heat?” Bryce asked good naturedly. “In some instances.” Bryce chuckled, “We’ll start off with something mild.”

She ended up with a beef and chicken burrito with almost all the fixings.

“Woah. How’d you do that so fast?” her jaw nearly dropped at how quickly he wrapped and folded the tortilla. “Great hands,” he winked and wiggled his fingers.

Becca laughed, thanked him and went on with her day.

Bryce watched her walk away, the glitter of amazement in her eye will forever occupy his mind.

The next week she lined up at the Mexican stall; “You again!” “Me again,” she smiled back.

He followed her order and as he rolled her burrito he said; “I’m Bryce, by the way.” “Becca.” “Do you live nearby?” “Over in Golding. I have Anthro in Ford, so I treat myself twice a week.” “Looking forward to seeing you,” he smiled.

He passed her the plate and napkin.

Becca sat down with Sienna and noticed the legible scrawl in black ink on the napkin. Bryce L. 808-555-4722

She chuckled to herself and folded the flimsy brown paper into her backpack.

She never called.

Honestly, she completely forgot about it.

The next week Becca walked from the Chinese stall and to her seat in the far side overlooking the Quad.

Bryce noticed her neon backpack immediately.

He also noted that she was eating alone. She was never alone.

Sienna had a paper due and went to the library to finish it off.

Bryce decided on a bold move - he took his break early.

Becca was so lost in what she was reading on her phone that she didn’t hear him come over until the plastic of his dish clanked against the wood table.

“Oh!” she jumped in her seat. Her face softening once she noticed her companion, “Hey.” “Hey. Mind if I join you?” “Not at all.”

They shared pleasantries and chats to get to know one another.

Bryce and Becca took a liking to one another. It was like they’ve known each other for decades.

It wasn’t awkward at all and soon enough they were laughing - loud, wide mouth and doubled over kind of laughing.

Forty minutes later Bryce had to go back to work.

“I gotta run. See you next week.” He gathered his things and was about to walk away.

She bit her lip. Thinking hard about taking a chance. What’d she have to lose anyway?

“How about this weekend?”

He turned around and gave her one of his signature megawatt smiles.

#Anonymous #asked #bryce lahela x mc #bryce lahela #bryce x mc #open heart #open heart hc #open heart headcanons #hc

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merlions · 3 years ago

Text

in the past 2 weeks i

> got diagnosed w eds and pots

> also unrelated found out I have tourettes

> been on 2 planes

> did a family reunion

> helped my whole extended family b like "oh yeah i should probably get screened for eds and pots" which they have all had huge trouble w but never knew what was goin on w them (thank u friends w eds for helping me figure out that my body is a loose conglomeration of wet noodles and tachycardia)

> ran around on sand and hard floors and gravel without good arch support and usually without shoes period and fukt both my plantar fasciae again (NOICE)

> got only one very slight sunburn (he'll yea)

> got hives that i woke up scratching several nights which (tw skin related body horror) looked and felt like peanut m&ms under my skin

> carried my baby nephew around for long periods of time (BIG BABY......STRONG BABY....................heavy baby)

> for 7 days straight every day played games like the run and jump over waves game and the "throw a paper ball down the stairs and then chase it down and run back up and do it again" w my 4yo niece (i taught her the jumping over waves thing which makes them crash into her less hard bc she was scared of the ocean, which i didnt think was a game, but she definitely thought it was a game, i genuinely love kids :') ) (i was then inexorably trapped in every day playing the wave jump game w her) (it was fun but my body is a garbage fire) (stairs and jumping are so fucking awful for my heart/dysautonomia)

> for 7 days straight every day was helping w duties as a nurse aide for my grandfather (I'm certified) and spent a huge amount of time talking w him and helping him get exercise (he's 94)

> had brutal and intense conversations to facilitate repairing relationships between my aunts and uncles and grandfather

> powered thru on like 6hrs of sleep per night waking up at 9 or earlier every morning after months of waking up after 1p or much later

> drank starting at 11a for lots of the last 7 days

> took my adhd meds only 3x (a needed tolerance break and a break for my bod but a v hard willpower move)

> only ever had a chance to lie down while sleeping, no lying down during the day

> ate a flour tortilla I thought was GF right before getting on a plane bc this shitty restaurant didn't read my ticket (they look the same but I have celiac disease so they don't feel the same :) )

> barely checked my heart monitor (HUGELY difficult for me)

> carried 60+lbs of luggage while walking a few miles

> FUCKED up every joint lmfao im like in a full body cast made of bruises and braces and ice packs

> like half of my ribs are out of joint and I broke my wrist brace and strained my shoulders to fuck and maybe got a little whiplash from an almost collision on the highway while my roommate was driving me home from the airport (NOT their fault at ALL, ohio drivers are 100% willing and ready to die and take you with them to avoid extremely minorly inconveniencing themselves)

> my neck is crackling more than usual and the PPPD is STRONG baybey

> got! the! job! done!

tomorrow I've gotta start an extremely intense 2 days of moving bc my roommate wasnt able to get much done while i was away. then a couple days later im gonna start a job and then start nursing school in abt a month if the social security administration doesn't fucking destroy my life yet again (noice) so im just gonna try to pop some of these ribs back in and get some sleep. sorry this is incoherent I've been awake and exercising and running around and up and down stairs and traveling for 23 hours. chronic illness WHO???

fuck i need six weeks in bed

anyways goodnight

#chronic illness tag #personal -/#ask me to tag

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a-third-attempt · 4 years ago

Text

The Long Green Line

A/N: Presented on the occasion of @call-me-clever-girl’s 22nd birthday. Thank you to @selectedtrash for beta reading! (3428 words)

Santiago is an OC of @call-me-clever-girl. Source (at her writing blog).

Warnings: Food. Brief mentions of gore, horror, overeating, violence.

* * *

You paced frantically around your one-bedroom apartment, towel in one hand and yardstick in the other. You’d been living there for nearly a year now and while you had no illusions that it was some grand estate, you never had the occasion to quantify exactly how small it was.

Today, that innocence died. As the aroma from slow-cooked pork wafted through the kitchen, you learned that there was about three and a half feet between the appliances attached to the wall and the countertop that butted up against the living room couch. You walked up and down that corridor, all nine feet of it, as you tossed in vegetables and spices. The aforementioned couch was exactly seven feet long and the coffee table stood two feet from it, the television ten. The front entrance, as well as the door to the bedroom and the bathroom, measured just under three feet wide. Tricky, but not much to be done about it.

After a day spent creating carnitas and egress, the apartment smelled of garlic and sage but looked almost spartan, a far cry from the cozy atmosphere that you normally enjoyed. The only hints of its prior life were found in its dusty corners, where tall piles of treasure and clutter alike were packed into as little floor space as physically possible. This was the price you paid for precious inches of maneuvering room. And today, today only, that price was worth it.

You knew that he was going to arrive exactly on time, because for the last week he had been so excited about seeing your place. So when you started waxing the floor you knew that you had exactly nine minutes to finish up and change your clothes, which you did, with eleven seconds to spare. You spent those last seconds fidgeting with the ends of your hair, trying to shake off your analytical mindset. This should be fun. It was going to be fun.

Ding Dong!

“Just a minute!” you called out. Stealing one last look in the mirror, you stood up straight, put on a big smile, and opened the door.

Standing before you was Santiago, the love of your life. A naga, with russet-brown skin fading into mottled dark green scales, he stood a whole head above you, looking down with luminescent yellow eyes. His black hair was tousled in beautiful waves that fell just above his broad, muscular shoulders. His features were naturally sharp, but they were softened by the smile that came easily to his face.

“How are you, my clever girl?”

“Lovely, now that you’re here.” You stood on your tiptoes and kissed his neck. “Say, what’s that behind your back?”

You grinned. He never came to a date empty-handed, always bringing along some little bauble that made him think of you. Sometimes they came from a shop, sometimes they came from the swamp, and you loved them all the same. But this time you were surprised; you gasped as he revealed a bouquet of plump white roses.

“Oh, Santiago, they’re gorgeous! This is incredible, thank you!” He beamed back at you. “I’ve got just the spot for them in the kitchen. They’ll catch the evening sun.”

You rinsed out a glass from the sink, put the flowers in, and set it on the windowsill. During it all, an uneasy silence rested in the air. You hadn’t invited him in, and he didn’t make to enter. He simply sat in the doorway, watching you walk around your nearly-empty apartment. “Looks like you’ve been busy.” His tongue fluttered out and tasted the air, “Mmmm… and it smells like it, too!”

“Like I told you, you need to eat a proper meal for once.” He didn’t exactly fill up at restaurants. Despite his protests, you always felt guilty for ending dinner so much more satisfied than him. So now, meeting at your own place for the first time, you had resolved to feed your boyfriend as much as he could eat.

You returned to the doorway and unbuttoned his big black coat. It hung well below his torso but still looked comically small, his tail easily spilling out from the bottom and far into the hall. Clothes weren’t terribly useful in the water, he had explained to you on your first date, but the coat helped him remain decent in human society. Still, he grew up wearing nothing at all, and that’s what he preferred. You preferred him that way too, which had probably been obvious from your uncontrollable blushing.

You tossed his coat to the side, then hesitated. “Come in, babe.” Both of you understood how much anxiety you were hiding behind those simple words. But he said nothing, and if he had reservations of his own, they didn’t show. He held his smile and began slithering in.

His powerful muscles glided his body across your newly waxed floor, thick waves of scales shifting to and fro. You tried not to stare as your brain automatically began measuring out his length. Three feet. Six feet. Nine feet. He turned back to face you, sheepishly, coming back toward the door as his tail began piling up in the space behind him. Twelve. Fifteen. Eighteen. He stopped suddenly, looking around.

“Um...”

“Wrap through the kitchen?” He nodded wordlessly, sliding between the counter and appliances. In one opening and out the other. Twenty-one. Twenty-four. Twenty-seven— The tip of his tail was nearly through the doorway, and you shared a relieved sigh, knowing that you’d cleared the first hurdle. As soon as it crossed the threshold, you slammed the door shut, perhaps a little too hard. He winced, then broke into full-chested laughter.

“Well, that was a little adventure,” he said, reaching the end of his tail up to embrace you.

You wriggled free, thoroughly embarrassed. “The first of several, perhaps. Now, sit down, and I’ll check the pork.”

He did not sit down, and instead followed you eagerly into the kitchen, his tongue lapping the fragrance of the meat. The walkway is barely big enough for one person, certainly not accommodating two plus a tail. “Sit down, sit down,” you say, shooing him away. “I’ll bring the food out when it’s done, but give me some space.”

He begrudgingly retreated, flopping down on your couch. At only seven feet, it wasn’t even pretending to be long enough for him, his tail lazily draping over the end.

After cooking the meat for hours, the last steps for carnitas always felt strangely rushed. You took a big vat of sour cream from the fridge, tortillas and hot sauce from the pantry. Placing the trays on the stove to cool, you dropped one steaming piece of pork in your mouth. Perfection. Mama would be proud.

From the couch came a small whine, as the top of your boyfriend’s head peered over the back of the countertop. “Dear god, that sssssmells so good. I’m about to drown in my own drool.”

You clicked your tongue and shot him a sideways glance. “Are you a dog, whining for your food like that?” His brow twitched in embarrassment. “Am I dating a dog, Santiago?”

He collapsed dramatically onto the couch, whumping down on the pillow. “You’re always teasing me, Raptor.”

“You make it too easy, darling.” Your lips curled upward as you poured the juices over the cooling meat and tried another piece.

“It’s reeeeeaady,” you sang.

“Yaaaaaaaaayyyy!” He threw his hands in the air as he cheered. He was playing it up for you, of course, but he was still clearly excited, his tongue rapidly flicking in and out of his mouth. “I can get up for it.”

“Nope,” you said, already setting down the toppings on the coffee table.

“What are these for?” he said, shrugging his shoulders. You rolled your eyes. He was always feigning ignorance about food, saying that a childhood in the swamp left him with simple tastes. Humans make it all too complicated, he insisted, with these vegetables and sauces and spices. But it was all a ruse. He loved savory food especially, and there was no hiding it; he rolled each bite around on his tongue to bask in its flavors.

You brought over the two heaping trays of pork, and he rubbed his hands together. “Not yet,” you admonished, a pair of fingers tracing the lines between your eyes and his. He smiled but said nothing, tongue still snapping out between his lips. Last, you brought the tortillas and napkins, plopping yourself down on the couch. “I’ll make your first?” you asked.

He nodded. “Thank you, sssweetie.” You loaded it up with everything, including nearly a fistful of the pork. You smirked as you passed it to Santiago, who was now visibly salivating.

He grabbed it from your hand and didn’t— maybe physically couldn’t— force himself to wait a moment longer. He took his first bite, and his eyes fluttered shut. “Mmmmmm, oh zhissssh is ssssho good,” he said, barely getting the words out before cramming the rest into his mouth.

You laughed quietly as you piled up your own tortilla and laid down on his chest. He was only too happy to have you, his tail curling slowly around your body, tiny by comparison.

“Why would you ever eat out when you can cook like thisssss?” he said, licking the grease off his fingers.

“You flatter me.”

“It’sss not flattery if it’sss true.”

You cocked your eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure it still is, actually.” Then, slapping him playfully on the tail that laid across your chest, you nodded to the trays. “Anyway, eat up. I made this for you, it’s all yours.”

His tail abruptly stopped sliding across you, shocked. You could practically hear his eyes bug out. “All of it?”

“As long as you let me sneak in a few, yeah. I told you I was gonna feed you for real, didn’t I?”

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head again and again. “Oh, whatever I did to deserve you, it couldn’t possssssibly have been enough.”

You hummed, lifting his hands off of you to prepare yourself another. “I’m not gonna keep making them for you, though, you gotta dish your own from now on.”

He giggled and mussed your hair, and then hastily piled some meat on a tortilla. As he scarfed it down, the tip of his tail poked up to lie on your chest, as it always did when you ate together. Warm on both ends, he would say.

He ate for nearly an hour, cleaning every last bit of meat off the trays. Mama always told you that the highest compliment that a cook could receive was a silent meal. But she was wrong. Santiago’s gratitude was vocal as he pounded one loaded shell after another into his mouth. His tongue turned its flavors into all manner of sighs, grunts, and murmurs. You said almost nothing the entire time, soaking in that beautiful music of his.

Swallowing his last bite, he smacked his lips and heaved an enormous sigh. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! It was amazing, sssweetheart. A gift from heaven.” His scales tickled as you pressed himself closer to you.

Your cheeks flared and you gave him an embarrassed smirk. You rubbed his belly, engorged from the sheer size of his dinner. “You full now?”

“Oh god, yesss,” he groaned, his hand resting on top of yours. “I won’t eat for another week.”

“Mmmm, then I’m satisfied.” You nuzzled his side, and he squeezed you gently in response. By then he had engulfed you entirely in his tail, leaving only your head and arms uncovered. It was not a warm embrace; you, in fact, were the furnace in the relationship. But it was still immensely comforting to you, like nothing you had known before. His tail rarely came to a complete stop, always slithering gently in place, and the texture of his scales soothed you as they brushed over your skin.

You were lost in that full-body massage when he cleared his throat. You lifted your head to see him watching you, with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

“Ssssssso, we were going to watch a movie?”

You smiled. One of the few things you loved about your apartment was that when the sun went down, it got dark. There were no streetlights and the road rarely saw traffic that late, so the most light that made it into your apartment was filtered through two window shades from your neighbors. It was a gentle reminder from the world that it was time to sleep.

Or, more relevant to present company, it set the perfect mood for a campy horror movie. Watching them had become a Friday night ritual, and you were delighted that this week, Santiago was going to be part of it.

There was just one problem. “Aww, you’re gonna make me get the lights?” You brushed one hand along his abs and the other up his tail, from the tip to as far as you could reach. It wouldn’t take more than ten seconds for you to hit the switches, of course. But in that moment you wanted nothing more than to stay wrapped up in him forever.

He cocked his head. “No, I’ll get them. Where are they?” You didn’t exactly want him to stand up either— it takes two to cuddle, after all. But instead of arguing, you pointed to the wall next to the front door. To your surprise, he did not move to stand up. He scrunched his tail into a hump where you had pointed, and then smacked it clumsily against the switch.

You giggled, but it worked.

The title screen rolled and the score began, a creepy little melody that already had you grinning. You could already feel his body tensing around yours. Stealing a glance at him, you barely recognized the voracious predator that destroyed your carnitas. In his place, a young man, wide-eyed and lock-jawed, features tensed as if preparing for a fight.

You tried to sound casual. “Hey darling, what’s up?”

“I— I don’t watch a lot of movies like thisss...” he said, softly.

“Oh,” you said. A little disappointed, you reached for the remote. You had others you could put on, of course. Honestly, you’d watch anything if it meant you’d get to snuggle with him the rest of the evening. But still, this shift in the routine felt like you were betraying the tradition.

“No, I want to watch!” he said, grabbing your wrist, and then immediately releasing it. “I mean, if you like it, I’m sure I’m gonna like it.” His eyes narrowed into a smile, their dim light seeming to sharpen as they glinted off his teeth. “I’ll tell you if we should ssstop, I guessss.”

Understanding flashed through your mind. “Oh my god, Santiago are you scared?” No way, you thought, it couldn’t be that perfect.

He shifted in place. “A little, yeah,” he admitted.

You covered your mouth to stifle a giggle. “Oh, now this is gonna be fun.”

His eyes suddenly widened. “I ssshouldn’t have told you that, should I?” he asked weakly.

You set down the remote and brushed his cheek, still giggling as you shook your head. “No, Santiago.” You leaned up to plant a small kiss on his lips. “You absolutely should not.”

He sighed and buried his head in your shoulder. “Hmph. Sssome help you are.”

The film was new to you, but it was clearly a love letter to the B movies that the directors had enjoyed as teenagers, hitting beats that were all too familiar. Your boyfriend probably had a harder time seeing that love through the spooky veneer. But his reactions breathed life into the experience like you hadn’t felt in years. After all, you could see the jump scares coming from a mile away, but he was caught off guard every time, letting out small yelps. And as the tension mounted, you could feel him instinctively constricting more and more around you, anticipating the next big release.

But it was the gore that really got him. The first death scene was a decapitation, and when the guy’s head flew off, he shuddered so hard it rippled down his entire body, jostling you several times on the way down. You could tell that the second one was going to be bloody as well, which gave you an idea. Just as the nerd’s guts spilled out of their chest, you dug your nails into his sides as hard as you could and scratched them across the same spot.

He bucked wildly and howled, tossing you around in his grasp. You collapsed into his chest, laughing. “Geez, Santiago, you’re gonna wake the neighbors.”

“Damn you,” he muttered, bopping you upside the head.

You hugged him, but before long your hands had other plans. They began roaming around his sinuous curves, matching his motions along yours. You relished the gentle firmness of his spotted green scales in your palms. He rewarded your affection with sharp, breathy gasps, and deep shivers that shook both of your bodies. Soon the movie was forgotten entirely as you wrapped around each other, snuggling ever closer.

Your intimate dance was interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream, the heroine finally succumbing to a grisly death. Your poor boyfriend nearly jumped out of his skin, spasms flinging his tail around wildly until—

CRASH!

His tail connected with the pile on the far side of the room, striking it to the ground.

“Oh my god, I’m ssso sssorry!” he said, immediately stilling himself and letting you go.

“What happened?” you asked, still dazed.

“I’m sssorry, I’m sssorry, I didn’t mean to, I should have been more careful!”

Putting the pieces together, you let out a relieved chuckle. “Hey, hey, it’s fine! Stop—” you fumbled around for the remote. “It’s fine, Santiago.”

He groaned. “I should never have come over, it was ssstupid, we both knew there wasn’t room—”

“No, listen—”

“I broke everything!” His voice was loud but it wobbled, as if he was on the verge of tears.

“Darling, stop. Look at me.” You grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “Where’s the light?” you grumbled, tripping over his length as you turned on a lamp. His gaze immediately snapped to the mess he had made, but yours kept trained on him. You didn’t care what had fallen down. You rushed back to him, grabbing his chin. “Darling, look at me.”

He did, and what a sorry sight it was. His normally toned skin was near-white and his mouth sagged, hanging open. His eyes were wide, downcast, and wet with half-formed tears. You stuck out your neck toward him, trying to match his pathetic look with one of patient determination.

“First of all, you did not break everything.” You glanced over at the trinkets now scattered across the floor, none of which had any significance at the moment. “I don’t think you broke anything at all. But even if you did, that’s okay.” He whimpered in protest. “No, Santiago, I mean it. It’s okay. We both knew it was going to be tight, and I wouldn’t have let you come over if it mattered that much to me.” Your features softened, but you spoke seriously. “That stuff doesn’t matter. You matter. I’m glad you’re here.”

As you spoke, he closed his eyes and took long, deep breaths. He began to nod, your words bringing him to his senses. “If you want to go home, I get that, but I’d rather have you stay.”

He nodded, swallowing. “Me too,” he whispered.

The two of you sat in silence for a while as he continued calming down. You smiled at him; when he opened his eyes, he sighed in response. “You’re too good to me, Raptor,” he said, dipping his head. You bent down to meet his far-off gaze. The embarrassment was still etched into his face, but at least his hysterics seemed to have passed.

“Now, you want to finish the movie?”

He let out a weak grunt. “What, so I can wreck the resssst of your apartment?”

“Yeah, well,” you said, grinning. “I wasn’t really watching anyway.” You blinked, surprised by the truth in your words. Years of Friday night movies, and you couldn’t remember a single time that you’d actually stopped watching one entirely. But somehow, you thought to yourself as he began wrapping you once more in cool scaly coils, this change in the routine suited you just fine.

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