#dulce you cooked and i ate it all | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 3 years ago

Note

Can you write a story about camilo coming over to dulce's house for dinner to meet her family since she met his already

You MAY not like her side of the family. But hey, you asked for it.

"You sure you wanna do this? No one said you had to-"

"I WANT to! My mom LOVES you, and that's rare, she hates all the girls I tend to bring home. I want yours to like me."

Camilo had this in this bag. People loved him! He was the most social of social butterflies, and the only ones who hated him, were those were jealous of him. He was great to babies, kids, teens, adults, geezers-you get the idea. He held her hand on the way to her house, and she stopped him just short of their door.

"I'm just warning you she's...not easy to...well. Like."

"I got this, Mi pequeño conejito. Trust me."

Dulce sighed, before knocking on the door. The door opened, revealing her mom. He had seen her in passing, but it was different than being face to face. She was a tall woman, rail thin, and everything about her was...neat. Her black hair was thin, and cut short, her apron was immaculately white, and her eyes, although pretty, were as cold and blue as ice. She was, by definition, a cold, cut throat woman. But certainly her personality was more warm. Right?

"Ah. Camilo Madrigal. She told me you'd be coming tonight. How is your father?"

"He's doing great! I mean still short as ever, but he's doing fine. Happy to be here and-"

He was about to make himself right at home, when he recoiled at the sharp sound of wood against a wool. She had smacked her wall with a wooden spoon, demanding his attention.

"Stop. Shoes off in my house. You may use the guest slippers."

Dulce motioned to the slippers off to the side, and Camilo obeyed. They were kinda big on him, but he'd make it work, he was flexible.

"Uh anyway! I stopped by, brought you a gift!"

He handed her the wrapped box he had hidden away, and watched her open it. If her face could get any sharper, her glare could skin cattle.

"Oh. Chocolates."

"Yeah, I thought maybe you'd be sick of making your own, so I bought you some! It's the good kind too-"

"Did you get these from Osvaldo's?"

"Yeah! Why?"

Dulce grabbed his arm and whispered to him.

"Why the fuck would you do that?!"

"Get her a gift?"

"No- get it from HIM, they HATE each other!"

"How the fuck was I supposed to know the town bakers had beef?!"

Her mother scoffed, tossing the box in the trash can by the door.

"Thank you. They're perfect for Betty."

"Betty?"

"Mom's truffle pig. She eats all of our scraps."

"Including garbage like Osvaldo's candy. It's all filler, like everything he makes. And his house smells awful."

"You're not worried about Dolores hearing you?"

"I hope she does. Now, come, I've made dinner."

He watched as she turned to the kitchen, before looking over at Dulce.

"This is. Going well."

"She's going to have a restraining order against you at the end of the night."

She might be right. He had to TRY though, he JUST got here. They made their way to the kitchen, knowing he could at least woo her with the sweet words he had for her cooking. He was picturing something grand, like maybe some creampuffs, or some freshly made bagels with smoked salmon, or even better yet, a black forest cake with loads of cherries.

He got none of that.

Instead, he got a bowl of...something. He sat at the table, brow raised.

"So sorry but uhm. What is this?"

"Parsnip soup. Good for the gut. Eat."

He was expecting maybe bread to be added to the table, but alas, no bread. He watched as her mother proceeded to clean around them as they ate. It felt very...awkward. Like they were children being kept busy while she worked to keep her already shiny kitchen clean. At least the soup was edible, if kinda salty.

"So, Dulce tells me that your cakes are to die for, I can't say I've had them. What makes them so special?"

"They're not Osvaldo's. Ergo, they're actually good."

She wasn't giving him much to work with here. Camilo sighed, scratching his chin in thought. Thankfully, his girl came in clutch.

"Mother? Can I show him what I've been working on?"

"You may."

Dulce eagerly dipped into the pantry, before coming out with a beautiful looking yellow cake, topped with all sorts of sprinkles and frosting, and even chocolate covered lemon slices.

"It's my new recipe for lemon cake-and I think I finally got the recipe down this morning. Least I think. Mom usually tries it, but I figured you should have the honors."

Finally, something he can sink his teeth into. He helped himself to a big piece, and tucked in.

"Oh that's. Sour. Like. REAL sour. But its like, super sweet too? Hey, it's kinda like you two!"

Rosa shot him a glare, before resuming her cleaning. Dulce faked a smile at her mom's lack of cooperation, continuing on.

"Well thank you, I was going for a more sour lemon cake. It's like my problem with carrot cake-"

"You never have it with enough carrots."

"EXACTLY!"

"It's so goddamn cute how you get excited over this."

So he was kinda swooning over his girlfriend right now- could you blame him? She was like. Super cool. Made wonderful food, she was passionate, funny, and luckily for him, super pretty to boot. How she came from that, he'd have no idea. He leaned a bit to the side to look at her.

"Hey, what is your favorite kinda cake?"

"...plum. I like plum cake."

Something about that question made her uncomfortable, but he couldn't understand why. It was just cake, what was so sad about that?

"I'm more of an apple guy, but I like a good plum too. When was the last time you had it?"

She stopped wiping the counter, looking outside the window with a weird sense of longing.

"When my husband was still here."

He winced. Right. He never got the story, but he knew that we don't don't talk about her dad. Yikes. Dulce felt it too, given the way her face looked.

"Yeah we uh. Don't make plum cake anymore. Dad wasn't excited to. Well. Dad. We don't talk about it- let's just focus on the cake HERE!"

He knew exactly what to do. He nodded, getting up for a moment.

"You're right! Hope you don't mind if I get some milk-oops!"

He grabbed the milk from the fridge, only to accidentally have it fall into the sink. Rosa grumbled, clearly pissed.

"Of course. Dulce, the market is still open, come with me to get milk. He can stay here, assuming he touches nothing else. Nothing. Else."

"Cross my heart."

He crossed his heart, keeping his crossed fingers behind his back. Rosa walked out of the kitchen, and Dulce looked at him quizzically.

"What are you up to?"

"Just keep your mom busy. I have a plan-"

"Dulce! Now!"

Dulce hesitated, before leaving. Once they were out, Camilo cracked his knuckles.

"Show time. Let's get some tunes."

He stepped into the living room, and dug through the many albums for the gramophone. He found one, covered in dust. Handsome hombre on it. He shifted into the music man, sort of liking the big body and the mustached face. He started to play it, and honestly, it kind of did something for him. He didn't know why it was so dusty when he found it, maybe she was just that anti fun.

"Okay, let's get started. You can bake, you've seen tìa do it a million times."

Camilo dug through the fridge, and found all he needed. Eggs, flour, sugar, oil, and of course, plums. The guy's voice only made the activity more fun, honestly. But unfortunately, it did not get easier. He was completely winging this, all while dancing, and he sort of...well. Missed the mark a few times. Before he knew it, the kitchen was a fucking disaster zone. Batter on the counter, eggshells on the floor, flour on the cabinets- it looked like all hell broke loose. He stood there, the damn thing baked and in his gloved hands, just now taking the gravity of the situation.

"Oh. Mierda. Okay, it's cool, I can clean this before they come back-"

"We're back!"

"...shit."

Camilo turned to them upon them entering, and of course, they stood there, gawking in surprise. He was expecting Dulce to flip shit over the mess, but she said something that really through him for a loop.

"WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE DAD?!"

"W-dad?! I was just copying the guy I saw on the album!"

"That's DAD! And you ruined the kitchen- do you want her to kill us both, idiota?!"

Camilo was going to try to plea for forgiveness, when he looked at Rosa's face. She seemed to twitch for a minute, and Camilo was terrified of her having a heart attack, when suddenly she started...laughing. Even Dulce had to pause to stare at her, letting him know this wasn't normal at all.

"Uh...is that a happy laugh, or a 'I'm going to kill you'?"

Rosa wiped the tears from her face, body shaking as she was trying not to giggle further.

"Oh, oh I'm sorry! It's just...this reminds me of exactly when I fell in love with your father. You were trying to make me plum cake, weren't you?"

He hesitated to respond, mainly because he had no clue where this was going, but he showed her the confection in his hands.

"Si. I thought, you know, you might warm up to me if I made you something you liked."

Her face went from amused, to sad.

"...that's what he told me. Word for word. Mija, you've...always wanted to know what happened to your papi, right?"

Dulce nodded, and Camilo felt as if he shouldn't be here, but when Dulce grabbed his arm, he knew he had to stay. Rosa straightened herself up, before sighing.

"He was a wonderful singer who I fell in love with. When you were born, he was disappointed that you weren't a son. So he had a child with another woman, and left the Encanto, right after you were born. This is why we don't talk about him. But...seeing his face again, in this messy kitchen. Reminded me that even though it hurt, the love is still there. I'm...sorry."

Camilo felt like this was a lot of stuff to unpack for Dulce, he could see it all over her face. It was why he said nothing as she ran to hug her mom. At least, for a good minute.

"So are we still mad about the kitchen-"

"Absolutely, you're still gonna clean it up."

Camilo shrugged. He was going to get started, when Rosa handed him the broom. There was just a bit of warmth on her face. Just a little.

"But. We will help you. Then, we'll have our cake, and it eat too."

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

"Your mom LIKES me! She REALLY likes me!"

Dulce couldn't believe it. Her mom, the ever proud, ever bitter, ever stingy...laughed tonight. Not an amused chuckle or condescending giggle. A laugh. When was the last time she did that? She couldn't remember. Camilo was absolutely overjoyed as they walked back to his house, him jumping around and shapeshifting as he carried a goodiebag her mom packed him.

"I...I wasn't expecting ANY of what happened tonight."

"Right?! I am JUST that good, mi vida."

Camilo was so full of himself, and honestly, he deserved to be, just for tonight. He only stopped shape shifting once they reached their front door, and she chuckled at him.

"I really appreciate it. I think that meant more to mom than you realize. She's never told me about dad before and...I don't know. I think my head is still spinning."

"I've been known to have that effect on women."

She snorted at his stupid, smug look. She really liked Camilo. He was sweet, confident, all wrapped in a goofy, honest package. It didn't help that he was honestly terribly cute. The glow of Casita's lights seemed to highlight his features, making his mop of gorgeous hair look almost like a halo.

"You know, there's another sweet thing that I was supposed to give you."

"Is it cookies?"

"Close."

She grabbed him by his collar, and pulled him right into her lips. It was a kiss that took him by surprise, given his yelp, but he sank into it as sweet as when they started. She could still taste just a hint of plum from earlier, and she savored every bit of it. She couldn't help but chuckle as she pulled away, loving that stupid look in his eyes, and the white smear against his smiling lips.

"Not cookies, but definitely pretty sweet~"

She was about to kiss him again, just because he looked like he deserved it, when the front door to the Casita opened. Félix was letting out some of Antonio's animals for the night, and he jumped a bit upon realizing what was going on.

"Oh, sorry, sorry! I'm interrupting!"

Dulce, mostly in a sudden bout of embarrassment, pulled away, clearing her throat.

"No no, it's f-fine. I was just dropping him off anyway."

Camilo held up the box in his hands, clearly excited about it.

"I brought home a snack! Oh and her mom gave me a goodie box too."

When she realized what he meant, she hid her face with her hand, and punched his shoulder with the other one.

"Oh my god, I'm going home, goodnight, the both of you."

She started to walk back home, not turning around as Camilo cried out that he 'loved her and her sugar kisses'. How embarrassing.

But she thought he was sweet too.

#not transformers #asks #encanto #why was this so fun to write #probably because its camilo in love and hes earned it

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years ago

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home

part 10 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco (Frankie, Catfish) Morales x reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: so so soo much fluff. clouds and clouds worth. kissing, implications of sex (blink and you’ll miss it)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier Baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, you and Frankie finish the season and the summer, and know it’s only the beginning.

notes: thank you all so much for supporting this little story of mine! I genuinely am blown away by how kind everyone has been! originally I planned on this series just being a couple of one-shots set in the same universe, but it got away form me, and I can’t believe so many of you came along for the ride. some of those stories will come in time, but thank you thank you thank you to everyone who stuck around this long! all the love for all of you!

It was a beautiful day for a baseball game.

The sun was shining and for once your bones weren’t shaking with the rumble of the stadium as people stomped and cheered. In fact, the majority of the noise was from Frankie’s momma as she chattered across your lap to your grandfather. The two of them were discussing gardening and how well season was played, how proud they were, the best of friends. It was peaceful, almost, and most of the flashing lights and roaring crowds were away – it was the final game, a charity fundraiser, all fun.

You could see your catcher as he turned, looking at your section like he couldn’t help but search for you, and you smiled, heart as full and as warm as the sun on your shoulders. His curls were sticking out from under his helmet haphazardly, the pads on his shoulders and thighs making him even more solid, and it was a sight that you’d never get tired of. Combined with the smells of warm pastries, jalapeños and melted cheese, contentment settled into your soul like a hand in a glove, a perfect fit.

It was the of the ninth and they were playing well, encouraged by the cause and playing for the love of of the game instead of a paycheck. Behind you, you heard someone mention just how well Frankie had batted this season, and you brushed pan dulce sugar from your lap.

The players had told you last week after all the big games were done why Santi had offered to pay for you and James to fly to see their final games. At the time, it had baffled you how intensely they insisted, how eagerly the pushed it, and how your boyfriend had looked equal parts embarrassed and hopeful, but eventually you agreed, assuming you could get the time off from work. When the secret came out you laughed, shaking your head and rolling your eyes.

They had exchanged smiles and shrugged and shared knowing glances as they let you explain away what they knew was true. You were their luck.

The thought was long gone from your mind now though, as Ben was doing weird poses on the field, and you heard chuckles ripple through the crowds. Fans of him and the team alike were endlessly charmed, and you knew you’d catch comments about it for months to come. His brother was just standing, and still you heard dreamy sighs of Will’s name, and made a mental note to tease him after the game about his “blonde halo”. Whatever that meant.

Santi threw a perfect curveball, and when it landed firmly in Frankie’s glove, you heard a girl swoon, “That’s my man!” and the laughter of her friends, as they called her “Mrs. Morales”.

“No!” his momma was glaring over her shoulder tugging on your elbow, as if physically fighting them was a viable option. You tugged back, making soothing noises as she protested, “Mi frijol.” The sweet lady muttered something else and before your heart could latch on to what you could’ve sworn was something about the future and tu marido you moved on.

“I know, I know,” you were saying, when James leaned over, glint in his sweet, aging eyes.

“She’s right, honey,” he said, only encouraging his friend, and you grinned.

“He’s my boy,” she said again with an air of finality, “and yours."

Looking at your grandfather sheepishly, you pointed at your shirt and shrugged as he said, “Right again.”

You were wearing his backup Jersey.

Cheesy as it was, it felt good to have the little claim of his over your skin, and while it wasn’t obvious to everyone, you wore it with pride. Comments from his fans slid off it like raindrops on a tin roof, and while you apricated her inclusion, you didn’t need it to know he was yours, as you were his.

Jimbo leaned towards the woman at your side and whispered conspiratorially in her ear, and she settled, and you left it, enjoying their friendship. The day was too lovely for anything else, anyway.

Catch, catch, walk, look for his girlfriend, sit, swing, hit, run, walk, sit. Repeat.

Nothing so eventful happened the last few minutes of the game, and as the Will went out for his final bat, you felt a surprising wave of bittersweet nostalgia for all that had passed since the opening game, cold as an evening breeze.

Then the ball cracked against the bat, and the sound snapped you back, and you felt a fire under your breastbone, reminding you the best was yet to come.

Frankie’s mom finished her final cheers enthusiastically, all annoyance long gone, and she pulled you into a hug.

“Nieta is calling. Hug Francisco for me, hija, and I’ll see you tomorrow?” You nodded, squeezing her back almost as hard. You and Frankie were using his first real day off to babysit and get some quality time, and both of you were well aware this was hardly goodbye. You gave a gentler hug to your grandfather, who was going with her, whispering “Bye Jimbo,” as you kissed his cheek. He had conspired to let you stay out for the evening, and while you’d miss driving him home, you were grateful for the opportunity.

Seeing them safely as far as you could, your feet danced with excitement. Like it had been more than handful of times, they knew the path to the locker rooms, carrying you so light you were almost floating. When you slid into the waiting room, Frankie was already clean and looking for you anxiously. Maybe you should’ve given him a little wave from across the room, but you could do better.

You ducked away from his line of sight, and snuck around behind him before say, “hey, batter, batter.” He whipped around and before you could even register the grin on his face, he was pulling you against his chest.

“Hey yourself,” he said, and the two of you got one sweet, slightly needy kiss before you heard good-natured groans.

“It’s been like month,” Santi said, ruffling your hair as you stepped back, “Aren’t you guys done flirting?” You stuck your tongue out at him, wondering if you were fast enough to flick him in the forehead.

“Don’t bother,” Will said, his tone resigned but playful as he hugged you too. “Be happy he got her to stick around.” You pulled a face, and Benny laughed. They all knew by now that it was more than a summer fling, even Tom, who you realized hadn’t come out yet.

When you asked, they winced, and you dropped the topic, knowing they would tell you in their own time. Frankie pulled you back to him, his warm fingers lacing with yours as you herded them towards the door.

They were still working on things, still trying to figure out what their next steps looked like.

For now, you owed your baseball boys a dinner.

It had taken you a couple of times cooking for them to get the portions right. The Miller boys ate like they were hollow, and after a game was a testament to that.

Thankfully, you had more than enough this time, having been preparing their favorites for days with the enthusiastic help from Frankie’s mom, and begrudging help from his sister as a thank you to her hermano. The piled into your little space and ate gratefully, telling you about the game like you knew what they were talking about.

“Benny, why were you –” his deep laughter cut you off, and your hand shot out to grab Will’s wrist mid-throw. You had a rule against projectile food to keep them from squabbling like children at your makeshift dinner table. The dinner roll fell to his plate as Benny tried to explain, and Santi deadpanned.

“I was stretching, and I got distracted –”

“You were flirting with the entire stadium, Ben.”

“No! Well –”

It was warm and bright, eating dinner with them like a family, teasing and laughter filling the space like clear broth in the cool of night.

Frankie’s hand found your knee under the table.

The best part about these replacement-parties was watching them all try to help clean up. You were lucky professional athletes had fast reflexes, or you would’ve lost more than a few dishes to their shenanigans. They insisted, wouldn’t let you help, and things probably would’ve been put back correctly if you had, but it was great, letting things play out however they may. Maybe years and years down the road, you would tell a younger generation that you had some of the world’s most desirable athletes fighting in your kitchen over where you kept your dish soap refills.

And after, they would collapse in your living room, unearthing all the games from your shelves. One of your favorite moments from the summer was coming through thrift stores for games, ignoring the stare of jealousy and making ridiculous bets.

All the while, Frankie kept as close to you as he could, too busy watching you with wrinkles in the corners of his eyes to be embarrassed of his rambunctious friends.

When you and Will won the first game of the evening, he accidentally hit you in the face with the back of his hand as he flung his arms open in triumph.

It hadn’t hurt as badly as it would’ve if his brother had been the one talking with his hands, but Frankie had still thumped him in the back of the head before he followed you to the kitchen.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Frankie,” you laughed, but he was already taking the pack of frozen peas from your hand to press it against the lump forming on your temple. He was gentle, and the air shifted, like there was more on his mind than your minor injury. Brown eyes searching yours, you wished you knew what he was thinking.

“Francisco?” Your hands had settled on his chest but the moved around his neck when he moved the ice to ghost his lips over the spot. He didn’t answer for a moment, just setting the peas aside, and carefully trapping you against the counter.

There were noises of good-natured arguing coming from the living room, and you knew he was taking advantage of their distraction, carving a little pocket for the two of you in time.

“Te adoro,” his lips were almost hot as they pressed into yours. “I love you,” he said, so close you could feel the hairs on his upper lip still.

For the past month, your relationship had been fast, jumpstarting to serious and staying that was, but this was new. It was one thing, for him to tell you he wanted something real with you, wanted you to be a part of his life, and another to hear him say he loved you simply, without abandon. Still, you didn’t hesitate.

“I love you too.”

He kissed you again, unhurried, and you almost couldn’t return it, you were smiling so widely. Your bump was long forgotten.

When the two of you came out the kitchen, the others had barely noticed you were gone and Ben immediately was accusing you of cheating, but Santi shot you a knowing smile.

There was a gap of time when a season ended, when Molly’s inbox was mercifully void of emails. It was a time when the chaos of her job slowed, for a bit before she began her work for the off-season, and she relished it with every fiber of her being.

This particular gap began wrapped up in sheets with Tom, her Tom, kissing and wishing the world outside was a simple as this, in the little bubble of her room.

She could always tell though, when his mind was no longer filled with her, and the other sides of him began to leak through the cracks. His eyes moved with urgency instead of appreciation his hands moved a little slower and then in sudden jerks, and when he trailed off mid-sentence, she sighed.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

He rolled onto his back; his gaze pointed towards the ceiling.

“Right after the game,” he confessed, and she sighed again, sitting up. If nothing else, for him, she had endless patience.

“How’d that go?”

Her love was silent, thinking only of the embarrassment and defensiveness that had reared in his chest. The tilt of Santi’s head, Frankie’s slow nod. He wished Benny had been disappointed, wished Will had thought it was a joke.

“They understood,” Tom didn’t add that he hoped with all his considerable might that they had reacted stronger, hoped they had told him not to, said they needed him to stay, but they hadn’t. It wouldn’t have been true, anyway. They were growing, going somewhere he couldn’t follow.

Her hand ran over his chest as it filled with air, stilling over his heart.

“It’s time,” one of them said, and the other nodded.

Counseling. Rehab. Retirement.

Slowing down to coach at a local college.

He clenched his hand into a fist, and then relaxed, palm falling open, upwards.

The love of his life kissed his forehead.

It was time.

The first stop of the day was with James, spending the morning helping him around the house. Before this summer, you had thought you were his favorite grandchild, but he had essentially adopted Frankie months ago, and already liked him more than you.

The little old man talked excitedly about baseball and lectured your love on enjoying his off-season. He dragged him into the yard, talking his ear off about the benefits of different teas and the importance of volunteering with youth programs, and you settled inside, throwing away expired things from his fridge. Their absence was your only opportunity for the chore.

Honestly, the two of you needed to leave sooner than later and you weren’t sure how much time you had.

“Honey?” You dropped a can of whipped cream from a month ago guiltily.

“Yeah, Jimbo?”

He eyed you suspiciously but seemed too excited to be deterred by you.

“I put this together for you!” He said proudly, and you noticed a flash of the same mischief from yesterday in his eyes. Your grandfather handed you a box, and made you promise not to open in until you left. You hugged the sweet man, and smiled when Frankie did, too, before saying your goodbyes, thankful beyond words for him.

If it weren’t for him, you were sure you wouldn’t be climbing into the truck of your boyfriend, and certainly not having the catcher’s hand slide into yours. When you opened the box, the gratitude didn’t shrink, but your embarrassment rose.

Frankie laughed so hard you thought he was going to have to pull over.

It was full of Francisco Morales merchandise, signatures and memorabilia ranging from his very first baseball card to his most recent bobble head.

Frankie kissed your knuckles for the second time since you climbed into his truck, which was silly since it had only been three minutes since you left his mother’s house.

He could feel your look, answering before you even asked.

“I’m good, just… I love you,” he said, unable to keep his eyes on the road when he said it.

“I love you too, Frankie,” you said, wondering what prompted him.

“Could we… would you want to get dinner?” He looked thoughtful and you laughed.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Your hand was lifted to his lips again, sending electricity up your spine as he confirmed.

The two of you had a bag full of Anita’s best by the time you entered his home, and he still hadn’t told you what was on his mind. The two of you ate, sharing stories about the day’s adventures, helping his mother around the house and watching, Bianca, his sweet, tiny new niece. You had a great conversation with his mother, and despite her excitable nature, she surprised you by asking you about your boundaries and promising not to overstep.

Frankie told you about his hermana, and her slowly opening up to the idea of letting him help her out, not as charity but family, and letting him shoulder some of the responsibilities. You watched the warmth in his eyes as he talked and wondered how it was possible for a single person to feel so safe.

Eventually the talking slowed, and you found yourself half falling asleep against the stretch of his chest, is hands slowing their wandering paths.

“Love?” he murmured into your hair. You hummed in response.

When he didn’t say anything, your mind woke, and you pulled yourself up, and into his lap, straddling him.

He looked up at you for a moment before you felt him sigh against you.

“I have this baby,” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile at his phrasing. Santi always said it was melodramatic. “Do you… is this all too much?”

His expression mirrored that of your first date, and you told him the same thing as you had then.

That you would stay, as long as he would have you. That you would navigate alongside him, that you were happy to. This time, you added that you loved him, and you felt him shift under you, anxiety leaking out of him, allowing solid adoration to replace it.

Frankie said, “Thank you,” against your mouth, and like a prayer. In the dim evening light, you kissed him, and as his hands slipped under your shirt to hold your sides, he held you for the first time like you were real.

And you were, this was something that wasn’t going away.

For the first time in a long time, it was a perfect day for something new, and his heart was here, beating under his hands.

translations:

pan dulce: pastries

mi frijol: my bean

tu marido: your husband

nieta: granddaughter

hija: daughter

hermano/a: brother, sister

te adoro: I adore you

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @pbeatriz

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name @daffodin @sarahjkl82-blog @pintsizemama @anaaaispunk @pjkimrn @dobbyjen @stuckontheceiling

#francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #triple frontier baseball au #hey batter batter #maybe i don't know people

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years ago

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A La Nanita Nana

Pairing: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Based off this imagine

Warnings: Sweet, soft fluff and smut

A/N: Also listen to the song also inspired by this.

You had your friend, Ashley meet you at the clubhouse since you were already there dropping off lunch for the fellas. Last night she left her wallet in your car and she was coming to get it back.

Hearing her car pull up, you ran outside to see if she brought your favorite person with her. Ashley just took Luna out of her car seat when you made it outside.

“Ahhh, give me my godbaby!” You ran towards her with open arms with Angel following behind you.

Ashley scoffed as she handed you the baby. “Oh, hey nice to see you too,” she said sarcastically.

Waving her off you cooed at Luna. “Heifer, I just saw you last night and listened to you extensively go into detail how well Darren ate it from the back.”

Crossing her arms, Ashley pointed at Angel. “And I listened to you explain how Angel fucks you so good that he could do whatever he wants to you and you’ll say thank you.”

“EARMUFFS!” You covered Luna’s ears even though she was only a couple of months old and didn’t understand a word coming out of y’alls mouth.

Angel sneaked behind you and snaked his hands around your hips. “Aw, that’s what you think of me sweetheart?” He teased as he places a kiss on your cheek. He was backing away when Luna caught ahold of his beard and started giggling.

“Looks like someone has a crush on you, babe. Do you want to hold her?” You spun around towards him to give Luna to him.

Automatically, Angel was resistant to the idea. Luna look so fragile that if he even touched her the wrong way, he thought she would break. “Nah, I’m good. Don’t wanna hurt little mama.”

“Nonsense, Angel.” You began untangling her from your arms and put Luna in Angel’s. He looked to Ashley for approval and she nodded yes.

His nervousness was coming out in waves, but he looked like a natural with a baby in his arms. Recently, you’ve been thinking about having kids with Angel and now this visual was only fueling your dreams.

Angel was getting into the groove of things with holding little Luna, but she randomly started crying and Angel was freaking out. “I promise I didn’t do anything,” Angel swore to Ashley, thinking he did something wrong. Ashely assured him it was nothing he did, that babies cry for no reason all the time.

You took Luna from Angel and started rocking and singing her to sleep.

A la nanita nana

nanita ella, nanita ella

Mi niñ(a) tiene sueño

bendito sea, bendito sea

Angel’s eyes shot up to you as he heard your voice. He was surprised for multiple reasons. 1) he didn’t know you could sing, 2) he didn’t know you could speak Spanish, and 3) he hasn’t heard that song since EZ was a kid.

Fuentecita que corre

Clara y sonora

Ruiseñor que en la selva

Cantando y llora

Calla mientras la cuna

Se balancea

A la nanita nana

Nanita ella

EZ was walking by when he heard your voice and he stopped his tracks. Just like Angel he was stunned. “Is she, is she singing-”

“The lullaby mom used to sing for us?” Angel completed the sentence for his brother. “Yeah.” He sniffled, the tears slowly trying to escape.

As you calmed Luna down, Angel came to a realization. He was ready to have a family with you. Already he could see it: him coming home from the scrap yard, you cooking dinner pregnant with his son, and his daughter on the floor playing. His perfect little family.

EZ saw how Angel looked at you adoringly. For awhile he knew that you were the one for Angel and it looked like Angel was coming to that conclusion as well. “Guess I should get ready to be a tio.”

Angel wiped a tear away and gripped EZ’s shoulder. “Yeah, little bro get ready.”

You just stepped out of the shower when Angel reached out to you and pulled you to the bed down with him.

“Querida, there’s been something on my mind.” Angel mumbled into your ear.

You looked up at him, palming his cheek taking in his serious tone. “What is it, Angel?”

“Seeing you with Luna today made me realize I want a baby with you. Will you give me a baby?” Angel asked nervously rubbing his hands up and down your hips.

Undoing your towel, you rolled on top of Angel. “I’ll give you all the babies you want.” You reached behind and began stroking Angel’s already hardened length.

“Fuck! Be careful with saying shit like that to me, amor. I’ll keep you knocked up.” Angel sat up to kiss you, his hands wrapping in your hair.

Angel rolled you back, so he could be on top once again. Easily, he slid into you, no buildup needed. He stretched you out perfectly, pleasure mixed with a little bit of pain. His strokes soft and sensual, making you needy for more.

Your hands went to his ass to make him go deeper. “Angel, harder please,” your voice trembled.

“I’m trying to be romantic here,” he chuckled when you slapped his ass.

“Fuck romantic. Use me and fill me up like the little cum slut I am.” Usually, Angel was the dirty talker in the bedroom, but you had to give him some motivation to use you like you want.

Angel’s hips stuttered and his eyes darkened. He was always trying to break you out of your reluctancy to talk dirty with him. “Your wish is my command, querida.” His strokes became harder, but he kept up the sensuality. He leaned down, his lips hovering over yours telling you all the dirty things he’s gonna do to you throughout the night.

Soon, you started playing dirty. Your lips sucking all on Angel’s hot spots, you throwing back your own dirty words at him, and squeezing him tightly.

“Shit, Y/N! You want me to fill that tight little hole up already?”

“Yes, Angel, please!”

“Fucking cum slut. I’m fucking you like this all night long. Might as well get ready to call in at work tomorrow.”

A few more deep strokes and extra pressure from Angel’s rough fingers led to the most mind-blowing orgasm. Your legs literally shaked as Angel kept fucking you through your orgasmic high until he went into his.

As you caught your breath, Angel reached out to hold your hand, his other pushing back your hair clinging to your sweaty forehead. “I’m definitely fucking you some more tonight, but that’s the one. I just got you pregnant.” And it may seem silly, but you agreed with him as well.

*9 MONTHS LATER*

Angel’s voice and small little cries woke you up out of your sleep. “Aw shit, I’m not as good as this as your moms. Who the fuck am I kidding? I’m horrible at this, but we can’t have your mom waking up. It took a lot of her energy to bring you here today. So, please don’t cry when you hear this, preciosa.”

A la nanita nana

nanita ella, nanita ella

Mi niñ(a) tiene sueño

bendito sea, bendito sea

Angel’s voice was rough and a little bit offkey, but you smiled anyways. He was so nervous that he was going to be a horrible father, but you knew he had nothing to worry about.

You grabbed your phone to get a video and snap a couple of pictures. The sight of Angel holding your and his little girl with the moonlight illuminating them was breathtaking and needed to be captured. It would be a reminder for Angel if he ever doubted his parenting skills.

You thought you were gonna get away with capturing the moment until your phone clattered against the counter. “Mi dulce, you’re supposed to be asleep. Did I wake you?” He whispered, careful not to arouse little Marisol, but still very much concerned for you.

“Yes, but I’m glad you did or otherwise I would’ve missed your singing.” You reached out for him to take his seat back next to you.

Angel obliged but sat on the bed with you. “I’m sorry.” He kissed your forehead and put Marisol in your arms.

“Don’t be. I loved every second of it.” You kissed him back.

Marisol began getting a little antsy again and started crying once more. “Can I sing it with you this time?” You looked up to Angel while rocking your baby girl.

“Of course.” Angel agreed, loving to hear you sing any chance he could get.

A la nanita nana

nanita ella, nanita ella

Mi niñ(a) tiene sueño

bendito sea, bendito sea

Fuentecita que corre

Clara y sonora

Ruiseñor que en la selva

Cantando y llora

Calla mientras la cuna

Se balancea

A la nanita nana

Nanita ella

The rough timber of Angel’s voice combined with your velvety smooth voice got Marisol to calm down and back to sleep in no time. And just like that the two of you vowed to keep this little nightly tradition up as much as you could.

Tags: @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @thickemadame @angrythingstarlight @briannab1234 @sadeyesgf @carlaangel86 @backoff-imreadingdarkness @sparklemichele @titty-teetee @chaneajoyyy

#black!reader #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black!reader #angel reyes fanfic #angel reyes fanfiction #mayans mc #mayans mc fandom #mayans mc fanfic #frizzlesfic #frizzlefic #frizzlewrites

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daisy-day-dreams · 4 years ago

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Eternal Twin Flames: Gypsey's

A/N: Here it is! Finally, the first part of Eternal Twin Flames is out! I’m so excited for this world and can’t wait to share it with all of you! I only hope you love the characters just as much as I do ❤️ A huge shoutout to @carlaangel86 😘 I couldn’t have done this without you! Thank you so much for all the love, support and encouragement. It means the world to me. And thank you so much for helping bring life to these characters and their world! It wouldn’t be what it is without you and all your support and help and love for them 🥺❤️ Thank you so so much. I’m so excited to bring to life and share what we’ve created 💜

*gif not mine*

EZ followed Angel into Gypsy’s, the quaint little diner just on the outskirts of Santo Padre. He immediately caught Mikaela’s attention the second they walked in. Flashing a grin her way he was happy to be seeing his girl again after just being on the other side of the border with the club. She smiled back at him, his favorite sight in the whole world. Grabbing a couple of menus she met the two at the booth in the corner of the retro-style diner.

“Hey, baby.” She said as she leaned over to kiss Angel.

He wrapped his arm around her waist in the middle of their kiss, pulling her down onto his lap. “I missed you.” He murmured resting his forehead against hers taking in her scent.

Her smile grew as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You just saw me this morning.”

“You two do realize we’re in public right?” EZ interrupted the two love bird’s moment. Even after all their years together they were so in love. It was annoying to him but also endearing.

“You’re just jealous Ezekiel.” Mikaela teased using his full name. She resituated herself and wrapped her arm around Angel’s waist settling back into his lap more. “You know if you would just man up and talk to her,” she motioned to her coworker wiping down the counter across the room, “maybe you could have this too.”

EZ had a very not-so-subtle crush on Mikaela’s coworker and friend, Jenny. It was obvious to almost anyone who had seen the two in the same room. Obvious to everyone except maybe Jenny herself.

Every time Angel and EZ stopped in since he got out he was always watching her, admiring her. He’d observe her as she worked the whole time they ate, taking in every detail he could get but would never get the guts to approach her.

It was sweet and cute but at some point, enough was enough.

“You know she doesn't bite.” Mikaela went on. “Unless you’re into that then I’m sure she’d make an exception.” She sent him a wink.

EZ chuckled as he buried his face into his menu to hide his blush. He knew it should be easy enough just to go up and talk to her but he was so damn nervous and incredibly rusty. He just didn’t know how to approach her. As silly as it seemed he was terrified to even entertain the idea of dating after his stint in prison. And his deal with the feds only complicated things more. It was probably for the best he hadn’t and just kept his distance from her.

Jenny glanced over to where Mikaela and the Reyes boys were seated. She caught EZ chuckling as he buried himself into the menu. She smiled to herself as she continued wiping down the counter. She wouldn't lie, she had a slight crush on the younger Reyes brother ever since she first saw him come in with Angel and Felipe the day he got out.

Of course, she knew his story, everyone did. When she had heard the news of the tragedy that struck their family her heart broke. It seemed as everything was stacked against the family and now, here they were back together again, getting a second chance to be a family once more.

Mikaela took the menus back from the boys, snatching the one from EZ to stop him from hiding.“I’ll just go ahead and get you two your usuals.” They could look all they wanted but she knew they’d go for the same things they always did.

“Thank you, mi amor.”

Mikaela slipped off Angel’s lap using his thigh to help steady her. She let her hand linger just a little longer then gave his knee a loving squeeze. He grabbed onto her hand before she could pull away, keeping her until she gave him one more kiss. “I think you’re forgetting something, mi dulce.”

“Nope, I don’t think so,” she teased leaving him hanging, “I’ll be back.” She promised sending him a wink before she spun around walking away from them.

Angel shook his head at her not being able to help the smile. She was something else and she was all his. He sat back in the booth licking his lips as he watched her walk away from them in her sinfully short red skirt she had to wear as part of her uniform. He hated to see her leave but he sure loved to watch her go.

“You really have no shame do you?”

“At least I’m watching what’s mine and not just creepily staring at some girl I won’t even talk to.” Angel shot back giving EZ a look.

Mikaela swung by giving the two’s orders to the cook along with four others before coming back around the corner settling down on a stool on the opposite side of the counter from Jenny. She rested her elbow onto the sparkly white countertop resting her head in her hand as she watched Jenny waiting until she’d give her her attention as she would always do when she wanted something from the younger girl.

Jenny left the damp rag down on the counter. She looked back at her as she wiped her hands off on her skirt.“What do you want?” She playfully narrowed her eyes at Mikaela with a hint of a smile.

“Why do you just assume I automatically want something?” She played innocent even though both of them knew exactly why.

“Because you are you.” Jenny stated matter of factly, “and you always want something.”

“Fine,” Mikaela gave in. “Take a break and come have lunch with us, Quinn and Coco should be here soon. It’ll be fun.”

“I really shouldn’t,” Jenny tried to protest. She still had two other tables to clear off and wasn’t due for a break for another hour or so.

“Oh come on don’t make me beg. It’ll be nice,” Mikaela insisted, “I’ll help you with your tables before. The place is pretty much dead right now anyway. It won’t hurt anything to take your lunch a little earlier.” She knew how Jenny was and that she’d give her a little push back but the girl worked too much. She needed this. “Plus I already put in an order for you so unless you come to eat with us all that food will just go to waste and I know for a fact a certain someone would really love it if you did.” She added singing as she glanced EZ’s way.

Jenny tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear glancing over at EZ herself. She felt silly and childish with her little crush but she couldn’t help the butterflies and hope she felt when Mikaela hinted at EZ. She didn’t know whether that part was true or not but knew she couldn’t let the food go to waste or say no to Mikaela. Mikaela was just the kind of friend she needed in her life, someone who pushed her out of her comfort zone and took care of her, made sure she took care of herself too.

“Okay, fine.” she gave in, “but I’m holding you to that part about helping me finish clearing tables.”

“Wouldn’t let you do it yourself anyway babe.”

Once the tables were cleared the two girls brought the orders back to the guys who scooted over making room for them. Mikaela slid in next to Angel with Jenny opposite her next to EZ. She and Angel exchanged a knowing look as EZ and Jenny began making small talk.

“If Coco and Quinn don’t get their asses here soon I’m going to eat their food for them,” Angel commented after having sat waiting on the two for a few minutes now. Mikaela had told him they had to wait before they could eat but he was getting impatient.

“Just give them a few more minutes.” Mikaela squeezed his thigh. She knew how Angel could get when he was hungry. “They can’t be that much longer.”

Coco and Quinn finally entered the diner with a ding of the door. Coco followed her in letting her lead the way to the booth in the back where they had spotted the rest of their party.

“It’s about damn time. You two better have been fucking or something good to keep us waiting, the damn food is going to be cold.” Angel grumbled.

“Oh I wish,” Quinn slid onto the bench next to Jenny pushing her further in causing her to bump into EZ. “Unfortunately though it’s because we had to chase Mia all through the house to get her to put some clothes on.”

Angel relaxed laughing at the image of his goddaughter running around. He could picture it perfectly, having had plenty of time to witness the very same scene happen while they had been staying with Quinn and Coco.

“Something she learned from the fucking encouragement of her tio Angel,” Coco added pulling a chair up to the end of the table. “She only does it because she knows you think it’s so fuckin’ funny.”

Mia learned many things from her him, usually things that would irritate her parents later. She was always very attached to Angel and became even more so ever since they had been staying with them after moving out of Angel’s small apartment. They needed a place to crash until they could get into a new house of their own. The latest thing Mia had picked up was running around naked giggling as she refused to put on any clothing for the day.

“It’s not funny, asshole,” Quinn couldn’t help laughing a little herself as she threw a napkin over at him. It was a little funny, especially seeing how worked up Coco could get.

“Just wait until you two have kids,” Coco chimed in, pointing his butter knife at Angel and Mikaela. “Then it’s going to be your fuckin’ problem and then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

“We can handle it, right babe?” Angel turned to Mikaela.

“I think we’ll be just fine.” She agreed, snuffing in closer wrapping her arm around his waist.

The group had finished their meals and were now just enjoying the little amount of downtime they had left before the guys had to head back out and the girls had to go back to work. There was lots of chatter, teasing, and laughing during their conversations. Having these types of normal, quiet moments were crucial to keeping Angel grounded and sane amongst the chaos of the club and the rebels. Really it was crucial to every one of them.

Mikaela and Jenny had begun gathering the dishes when they couldn’t prolong their break any longer. “You’re still going to pick up some paint for us this weekend, right?” Mikaela asked EZ as she grabbed his basket from him and then his glasses stacking it on top.

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Jenny you should go with EZ,” She suggested, seeing a perfect opportunity for the two to get some one-on-one time. “You know better than anyone what I have in mind. And quite frankly there’s no one I trust more to get it right. And it has to be absolutely perfect.” She had been meticulous about her decorating plans for their new home and needed a very specific shade of green to complete their kitchen.

“I literally have a photographic memory.” EZ piped in. “You don’t trust that?”

Angel wanted to smack his brother across the back of the head. For someone who was so damn smart, he could be really stupid at times. He was going to blow his shot with Jenny before he even realized he had one.

“Not as much as I trust Jenny,” Mikaela said with a smile knowing exactly what she was doing. “You don’t mind going do you?” She asked her.

Jenny felt a little put on the spot but didn’t mind. She didn’t have anything else planned for the weekend. “No, I don’t mind at all. Unless of course, you’d rather go alone or with someone else.” Jenny added nervously as she turned to face EZ. She didn’t want to be that person throwing themselves into plans where they aren’t wanted.

“No, of course not, I’d love it if you came with me.” EZ stumbled as he tried to get the words out a little too quickly.

“Great!” Mikaela clapped her hands together. “It’s a date then!”

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! If you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list please just let me know 💖

Eternal Twin Flames Tag List: @carlaangel86 @starrynite7114 @jasminee97 @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @queenbeered @chibsytelford @toni9

#Eternal Twin Flames #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc x oc #angel reyes x oc #ez reyes x oc #johnny coco cruz x oc #Angel Reyes x Mikaela Lopez #EZ Reyes x Jenny Lawson #Coco Cruz x Quinn Blake

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pairofmelaninkweens · 4 years ago

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La Loteria: Hinata ShoyoxBokuto KaturouxSakusa KiyoomixOC BY: Aztec Brujeria

CW: Gagging, Strapon, Multipartner, M/M/M/F, Polyamorous, Double Penitration, Oral

Please pay heed to the wanings of this page...Minors DNI!

Introducing New OC Ava

Ava, MSBY team physican, had planned to lift and prepare for her powerlifting competition when she ran into her friend Kit. Seeing that Kit wanted some alone time with Atsumu Ava took the boys of her hands. A sleepover fueled by a game of shots and strip loteria leads to an eventful night...

Ava was winding down in her office and putting the last touches on the MSBY team travel health records for their away games next week. Vaccines for the pandemic? Check. Updated physicals? Check. Submitted reports to the visa office for the team? Check. She stretched her arms overhead feeling relief when her lower back popped, “I still need to lift tonight...I’ve got a competition in a month.” She walked around her desk to hang up her lab coat and stethoscope and collected her bags, “I’ll record notes at home tonight I guess.” She pushed her large glasses up her nose and blew a tendril of black hair out of her mismatched eyes, one blue and one green encased in thick raven lashes, that had escaped the messy space buns she always wore. She was five feet tall and curvy with caramel-colored skin and thick natural red lips. She competed in powerlifting for fun outside of work and always had a good time out lifting Kotaro, “Stay calm Bo...remember you get a prize.” She grabbed her keys and jacket and headed out the door. Humming to herself she locked the office and turned to head to the locker room to change and get her quick workout in.

She ran into Kit chewing the boys out when Ava smiled wide and called out, “¡QUE PASO!” Kit turned and smiled, Atsumu following behind her, “Hey pendejo, Hermana, what are you chewing out the boys for?” Kit had a small vein of annoyance pop out of her head, “I’m trying to have some quality time with Tsumtsum, but the boys have other plans.” Ave looked around them and saw Bo kicking his toe at the ground, Shoyo talking to Omi, and Omi uninterested looking directly at her. “Ah, I can see that, tell you what...WHO WANTS HOMEMADE MEXICAN FOOD AND TEQUILA?!” Ava watched as Kit’s eyes lit up and Tsumu just dumbfounded. “I’ll take them off your hand’s chica! I gotcha.” Bo bounded down the hall and came up to Ava and bear-hugged her and picked her up, while Shoyo and Omi joined in asking for tacos and arroz, “Doc you’re gonna cook fresh tortillas right?” Ava giggling, “Only if you help me. I always get stuck by myself cooking...I should call Samu…” Ava looked at Atsumu dead-eyed and wiggled her eyebrows, he groaned next to Kit, “Hurry before my brother shows up, peaches.” Kit laughed and hugged Tsumu by his waist, “Alright let’s go...you sure you’ll be okay?” Ava being shaken like a rag doll by Bo smiled wickedly, “I’ll be fine...I’ll send ya pictures.” Kit turned with Atsumu and whispered to him, “I’m not gonna lie...Imma need you to be sober to help me in the morning...How she passed and with top marks out of Med school I’ll never know.”

When Ava and the boys finally made it back to her place with the groceries they set to helping her make dinner. Ava snapped a picture of the three beefy boys in her small kitchen mixing dough and rolling tortillas out was a sight to behold, Bo in her little Mexican embroidered apron from her Abuela made her heart squeeze. She set the table and had them sit around and watched as they poured shots out and ate the food they prepared together, “You know boys why don’t we just have a sleepover?” With a full mouth and double fisting tacos Bo lit up and nodded his head in agreement, Shoyo practically jumped around, “Ooo sleepover with our dulce!” Omi took a shot, his cheeks were starting to warm up, and looked at Ava with a smirk, “What game are we playing, Naníta?” Ava smiled wider, showing her small gappy teeth, making her look demonic, “Why La Lotería of course...unless you think you’re going to lose querido?” Ava filled her shot glass and knocked back the tequila dead ass looking at Omi. It was going to be an interesting night when he followed suit and she could feel the competitive tension between the two of them.

As the hours rolled by they had cleaned up and started their game of Lotería and just like she thought Omi was a sore loser. He sat there with Shoyo and Bo in nothing but their boxer briefs and what a sight to behold with all of them chiseled and cut to perfection from them being pros. “Well, well, well...are we ready to play for higher, hiccup, stakes?” Ava had at some point lost her space buns, her thick long wavy hair surrounded her shoulders, she lost her shirt and skirt and sat in her thong and lace bra and thigh-high stockings held up by her garter belt. She lost count of all the texts she sent to Kit but she didn’t care, “What’re higher stakes than this Naníta?” Ava grabbed another shot, these men could never out drink her, “I want to dick down Bo with a ball gag and have you and Shoyo pound me into him...make me cum several times you two.” Ava knocked the shot back like a pro staring down Omi across the table. Bo looked at Ava and his mouth dropped and Shoyo immediately had a very large erection that could not be hidden by his boxer briefs, I thought he was packing, I knew it. With her mismatched gaze and reddened cheeks, she just smiled with a cocky grin, “Well? Are we doing this or not ese?” Omi went to play his hand and already knew when Ava smiled at him hungrily he had lost. He looked at Bo, “I’m so sorry...but you’ll get to cum...many times I think.” Bo blushed and he cried out as Ava grabbed him for a kiss, “Oh we’re going to have so much fun!” Ava squealed like an excited sorority girl pledging.

Shoyo shot up from the table, “Daddy’s ready to play mi pequeña dulce.” His voice dropped three octaves and Omi just stood up and headed to Ava’s bedroom. Bo picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, slapping her ass and groaning as it jiggled by his face, and followed behind them. Ava grabbed her phone luckily and sent another photo to Kit as she was over Bo’s shoulder... I did tell you I’d take them off your hands for the night….HELP!! Once in the bedroom Bo threw Ava upon the bed and watched as she bounced and giggled, “Bo, Daddy owl, I don’t think so.” Ava got on her knees and grabbed Bo by his shoulders and brought him down for a kiss. Their lips meshed and melded together, tongues devouring each other, Bo whimpering brought his arms around her as she moved to get off the bed. Shoyo stopped her by putting his thick body behind her, she felt his cock in her ass, as he brought his hands up to cup her breast, growling in her ear, “Daddy thinks you need to take this bra off.” He undid the clasp in between her heavy breast, watching as her tits sprung free catching the glint of her piercings, and guided the bra off her shoulders. His hands came up to cup her tits and began to massage them and pinch her darker tan nipples between his fingers, Shoyo was entranced with her piercings that made her more sensitive and began to tease her nipples, while he left bite marks down her throat and shoulders grinding harder into her ass making her slicker by the second. Ava moaned at the sensation that sent ripples of pleasure through her body as Omi crawled across the bed and waited for Bo to release her lips for him to get a taste for himself, whispering in her ear, “Do you like being the center of attention Naníta? Hmm, do you like when you drive us MSBY men crazy?” Omi reached up and took hold of her chin before he brought his lips towards her. Shoyo had traced his fingers down to the top of her lace thong and slipped his fingers underneath to circle around her aching clit. She gasped into Omi’s lips and he growled as he devoured her moans. Bo was behind them stroking his cock and pinching his nipples enjoying the sight of Ava being coaxed to life by his teammates, “Yeah, baby owl, You look so fucking hot like that, hnnn…” Ava growled into Omi as Shoyo sinfully slipped in his middle finger into her drenched sex grinding more and more into her, reaching up and grabbing Omi by the throat, she broke the kiss and bit his bottom lip. “Now, now, you know I won the game...It looks like Shoyo is going first since you must have forgotten.” Omi groaned as she reached down and stroked his twitching cock through his boxer briefs, “Oh, are you drenched already? You haven’t even played with my pussy yet...Jefe.”

Letting go of Omi she reached down and stilled Shoyo’s hand torturing her fluttering slick walls, turning and kissing him, she slipped out his arms and headed towards her closet. “Bo, Daddy owl, in the nightstand will you pull out the lube baby.” Bo groaned and walked to the nightstand, rock hard and aching, and pulled out the lube. “Baby owl, do I have to wear the ball gag?” Ava poked her head out of the closet and smiled, “Daddy owl, you lost the game, I want my prize.” She stepped into her strap and adjusted the harness walking out with a large-sized dildo, still wearing her garter belt and thigh-high stockings, she heard the boys moan at the sight of her as she braided her long hair and flipped it over her shoulder. She shivered in anticipation and walked toward Bokuto. She took the lube out of his hands and kissed him, snaking her hand up to the back of his neck to pull on his hair forcing him to expose his neck, “Be a good boy now for your doña and present for me baby.” He whimpered and turned around to get on all fours on the bed, “Ah, ah, ah, I’m a shortie remember...on the floor Daddy Owl.” He did just that and looked at her over his broad shoulders with lust-blown eyes. Shoyo and Omi finished stripping and stroking lazily watching the power of their little dom making Bo present for her, Omi bucked his hips slightly in his own hand and moaned at the sight of her spreading Bo’s knees. “Fuck, Shoyo, I could watch this all night.” Shoyo moaned out loud as he squeezed his fat cock so he could edge himself, “She sure knows what she’s doing.” She turned her attention towards the other two, “Okay boys, let’s play.” She held out the gag and had Omi take it, “Make sure to put it on him right, jefe, I want to see him drool in the mirror.” She caressed her hands over Bo’s thick ass and down his back before bending over him and whispering in his ear, “I want to hear you cry out as you cum from us, baby.” Bo groaned at the sultry promise from Ava

Ava stood behind Bo and watched as Omi walked in front of Bo and bent down to take his lips in a quick sultry kiss before making him open his mouth to place the gag in and strap it behind his head. “Oh, Bo, look at you so handsome like this for our Doña. You are such a good boy.” Ava watched as Bokuto shivered in ecstasy with the praise. She took her fingers and was taken by surprise when Shoyo came up behind her to slide his hard cock between the crux of her thighs, “Daddy can’t wait for too much longer Dulce.” Shoyo groaned into Ava as he bit her shoulder thrusting slowly to make sure his dick was wet with her arousal, “Fuck, I need you please.” Ava turned and took her fingers and shoved them in Shoyo’s mouth, “Get them wet daddy I need to open our good boy up.” With brown eyes rolling in the back of his head he sucked and lapped at her fingers as she let the drool coat her digits. When she pulled them out she gave him a quick kiss, “Thank you, daddy.” Ava turned her attention to Bo’s perfect ass and slowly slid her wet fingers to coax him open, first her middle finger, Bo moaned against the ball gag and Omi whispered praises in his ear while stroking his dick. When Ava felt her need becoming greater and greater she watched for the first string of drool that escaped from Bo’s obstructed mouth. She slipped her index finger in his tight ass and felt him begin to relax as she scissored him open slowly to take her strap. As his moans became louder and the pool of pre began to soak her clean grey carpet below. “Oh, daddy owl, are you ready for me baby?” She guided her strap to the entrance of Bo’s ass and slowly sank in letting him take her inch by inch; crying out against the gag and drooling more.

Ava finally bottomed out and pulled back to thrust inside of Bo before she set the pace, letting him get used to her inside of him. She gripped his hip before reaching to fist his hair and thrust into him, hearing Bo moan against his gag and seeing his eyes roll into the back of his head made Ava groan. “Shoyo...Daddy...Fuck us.” Ava heard Shoyo growl as he gripped her hip and guided his aching tip into her swollen opening and thrusted in. Ava cried out as she got used to Shoyo’s girth and length stretching her plush walls to their limits. “F-FUCK AVA!!!” Shoyo didn’t want to wait and picked up a brutal pace, slapping his heavy balls against Ava’s ass. Every thrust caused Ava to thrust harder and harder into Bo causing him to begin to cry. Omi fucking moaned the loudest as he stroked his aching cock to the sight of Bo drooling. Ava pulled harder on Bo’s hair and forced him to arch his back, “Fuck S-Shoyo!! DADDY!” Shoyo dug his fingers into her hips and knew she'd come out with bruises. “Omi please...want, hnnn, you inside, Omi!!!” Shoyo pulled out and waited for Omi. He gripped the tip of his cock and groaned as he edged himself, “Omi i'll take her ass if you take her tight pussy.” Ava kept thrusting into Bo, his moaning causing him to become more of a mess. When Omi got underneath both Bo and Ava.

Bo’s knees were on each side of his shoulders and Ava above, “Fuck, sugar plum, you look absolutely drenched,” he brought his digits to pump inside of her making her head fall back, “Your wet cunt sucks my fingers in so greedily plum.” Ava made Bo get on his knees and held his broad chest against her own as Omi guided himself into her and slowly stretched her. Shoyo cursed at the sight when he watched Omi take in Bo’s heavy sack and sucked on him while slowly thrusting up into Ava, “Your tight ass is gonna be filled now too, Baby.” Shoyo knows how to take his time and hears you whimper as he reaches in front to circle your clit exposed by the strap buried deep inside of Bo rubbing against his spot. When she felt the fat head of shoyo enter her ass she cried out at the sensation of being double stuffed by thick volleyball players. “FUCK YESS!” Shoyo finally bottomed out inside of Ava, giving her a few moments to adjust, and began thrusting. Omi reached around and took Bo’s leaking heavy cock into his mouth and began to suck on him as he felt Ava forcefully thrust into his ass harder touching his pleasurable spot, making the drool flow from his mouth. Ava was close, Shoyo was beginning to twitch inside of her and throb, “Fuck, fuck, I’m-I’m gonna cum, I-“ Shoyo thrust one final time in Ava’s tight ass and emptied himself inside of her. Omi cried out with his thrust hitting Ava’s Soft spot and she threw her head back screaming as Bo followed suit emptying into Omi’s mouth. “DADDIIESSS!!!” Ava felt herself convulsing around Shoyo and Omi while Bo shook against Ava’s body. When she finally came down she reached and undid the ball gag and slowly slipped the strap out of Bo.

Omi, after having caught his breath and waiting for Ava to let her gorilla grip on his cock relax, got up from under Ava and Bo and walked to the bathroom to grab a couple of warm washcloths. He tossed one to Shoyo who lay on his back with wide eyes, letting them uncross, “Hey, shorty, you good?” He chuckled when Shoyo took the warm washcloth and cleaned up, hissing with his sensitive tip. He found Bo hugging Ava’s midsection letting her praise him and kiss his forehead, “How is our boy doing?” Ava looked up and smiled a thousand-watt smile at Omi, “He’s a good boy, he did so good, didn’t you daddy owl.” Bo snuggled in more and inhaled Ava’s scent of jasmine and clean linen, “Mommy, I liked it so much.” Omi bent down and reached between Ava’s thighs and cleaned her up while taking her lips for a languid kiss. “Thank you, jefe, I needed you three tonight.” Ava then took her the other washcloth and cleaned Bo up. When Bo was cleaned up he stood and picked up Ava bridal style and took her to bed with Omi following behind and Shoyo sleeping on top of her midsection. The next morning she was surprised to find Ushi at her bedroom door smiling wickedly as she stirred awake, “Honey...looks like you had fun without me. I’m going to have to feed you and teach you a lesson later mi amor.”

#haikyuu hinata #hinata smut #hinata shoyuo #katurou bokuto #bokuto smut #hq sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyū!!#haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut

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cottontail20 · 5 years ago

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In Happy Times, Our Love Does Grow, Chapter 46: Really Good Hugs

Summary: Viv has a question for Wanda.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20601530/chapters/57532627

Wanda now spent the majority of her weekends with Vision and Viv, but when the weekend of Mother's Day arrived, she decided to let them be on their own. It wasn't something that she and Vision had actually discussed, but Wanda thought that this was probably a time for them to honour Virginia, and she did not want to intrude on that, even if it would make things considerably harder for herself.

Mother's Day was always a tough day for Wanda Maximoff, both due to the tragic circumstances in which she'd lost her own Mother, and the equally tragic loss of the person with whom she had shared a Mother. Before Pietro's death, the two of them would spend Mother's Day together, quietly reflecting or reminiscing. Now, since she couldn't visit her Mother's resting place, an unmarked grave somewhere in Sokovia, she would usually spend the day visiting Pietro's grave instead. --

When Mother's Day did arrive, Wanda stayed in bed much later than she usually would, even on a Sunday. She wasn't asleep, she just wasn't ready to face the day just yet. When she finally did get up, she made herself some toast and a cup of tea, cursing when she slightly burned the toast, but still ate it, before getting ready for her trip to to the Cemetery.

She took her time doing so, not really all that eager to get where she was going. Both the walls and floors in Wanda's apartment block were quite thin, so she could hear some distant activity in the building's lobby. Assuming it was people coming to visit loved ones in the building, Wanda was too lost in a small cloud of Mother's Day melancholy to notice that whoever was in the lobby left quite quickly.

Once she was ready, Wanda sighed deeply, and reluctantly set off. --

Though the days were growing warmer, Wanda shivered a little as she entered the cemetery. Wanda had never liked these places, and liked them even less now that her brother was buried in one. It still seemed so wrong to her that her brother, so full of life, was cold in the ground. It probably didn't help, Wanda thought as she walked the path to Pietro's final resting place, that he was buried in a section that saw relatively little maintenance. She hadn't been able to afford anyone better.

Wanda hadn't brought anything with her, no flowers, or a card. What was the point when the person would never see it? She was slightly surprised to find a flower already propped against her twin's headstone, but didn't think much of it, assuming that one of Pietro's girlfriends had stopped by. He had been quite the ladies' man.

"Hello, Pietro" Wanda couldn't help the slight teasing tone that came to her voice as she knelt by her brother's grave. It was instinctive, as it had been when he was alive. "Have you had a prieten special visit?"

Wanda chatted for a bit, about everything, and yet nothing at all. Even after she had stopped chatting, she still remained there for awhile. She never liked leaving her brother. It was just so terribly unfair that he was gone. Wanda felt a lump in her throat, but before sadness could completely overwhelm her, a familiar small blonde blur suddenly barrelled into her chest, perching in her lap.

"Hi, Wanda!"

"Vivian!" Vision quietly scolded his daughter as he approached, "I told you to wait.. I'm sorry, Wanda."

"It's okay, Vizh" Wanda replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. Although the intrusion had been unexpected, Wanda's spirits were immediately lifted by their presence. "Hello, Miss Vivian. What are you up to?"

"We've been visiting Mommy.." said Viv, pointing in the direction from which she and her Father had come.

"She's over there?" Wanda currently felt quite silly for never realising that Virginia was probably buried in the same graveyard as Pietro. There weren't really a lot of other options nearby.

"Uh-huh" Viv nodded. "Does your brother like his flower?"

"What?" Wanda blinked.

"We left your brother a flower" Viv indicated the bloom propped against the headstone.

"I recognised his name as we passed by" Vision explained. "Vivian insisted.. I hope that's okay."

"Of course" Wanda couldn't help but smile, idly running a hand over Viv's hair. "It was very sweet of you.. I'm sure Pietro loves his flower, Fata dulce."

"That's good" Viv grinned. "Wanda, do you wanna come get hot dogs in the park with us?"

"Oh.." Wanda hesitated, "I wouldn't want to intrude on you and your Daddy.."

"You wouldn't be" said Vision quickly. "I was just about to call you when Viv saw you. I was going to call earlier, actually, but I didn't know how you felt about Today, or any traditions you might have, and I didn't want us to intrude.. When we saw you here, it seemed a bit pointless to call when I could just Ask you in person.. Although I did ask Vivian to wait a moment.."

"Sorry" Viv smiled sheepishly.

"It's alright" Wanda chuckled. After all her worries about not intruding on them, it seemed Vision had been concerned about the same thing. She glanced at Pietro's headstone. Anything she'd had in the way of traditions ended here. Last year, the rest of her day had included getting black-out drunk, but maybe she could avoid that this time around. "You know what? Hot dogs sound great. Bring on the Hot Dogs."

"Yay!" Viv cheered, hopping out of Wanda's lap.

Wanda took the hand Vision offered to help her up, brushing herself off before leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. Maybe, the rest of today didn't have to be quite so bad. --

After a quick detour to drop off Wanda's car back at her apartment, they headed to the park.

Wanda and Viv currently sat under the shade of a large tree, waiting while Vision had gone to fetch their hot dogs from a nearby cart. The line was rather long, so they could be waiting a while, but Wanda didn't mind.

"Wanda.." said Viv, crawling into her lap, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Fata Dulce" Wanda ran her fingers through Viv's golden hair. The simple gesture of affection had become rather instinctive now. "What did you want to ask?"

"Well.. what.. what was it like, having a Mommy?" Viv asked shyly. "I don't 'member mine, and Daddy never had one, so he can't tell me. But you had one, for a little while. What was it like?"

"Oh.." Wanda's heart broke for the little girl who was quickly becoming one of the centres of her universe, and couldn't help pulling her a little bit closer. "Well, a Mommy.. a good Mommy, will always love you no matter what, even if you're naughty. If you make mistakes, they will help you fix them without being too mad. Sometimes they teach you things.. Before My Mommy went to heaven, she started teaching me a few old recipes that my Grandmother taught her. I have a book where I wrote some of them down.."

"Can I see?" Viv asked hopefully. "I like cooking."

"I'll bring it over one day" Wanda smiled softly. "Maybe we can all make something together."

"That would be fun!"

"It would" Wanda nodded, pausing for a few moments. "One more thing I remember.. Mommies give really good hugs. Probably the best hugs ever."

"That sounds nice."

"It was."

Viv was quiet for a minute or two, but crawled closer, snuggling into Wanda's chest.

"Wanda?" She said quietly.

"Yes, Miss Vivian?" She held Viv close, idly stroking her hair.

"You give really good hugs.."

The words immediately tugged at Wanda's heart, and tears, happy tears, prickled at the corners of her eyes, though didn't fall. She held Viv closer, her lion purred and roared all at once, because no-one, no-one, was ever going to hurt this little girl while she was around.

"Thank you, Fata dulce. So do you."

#ScarletVision #scarlet vision #scarlet vision au #scarletvision au #Scarlet Witch #wanda maximoff #vision mcu #wanda x vision #vision x wanda #viv vision #Avengers #MCU #avengers au #mcu au

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rpf-bat · 5 years ago

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Keep Your Cars And Your Dogs

Pairing: Ray Toro x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: It’s Ray’s birthday, and you’re delighted that he’s home from the Black Parade World Tour, in time to spend it with you. You decide to cook something delicious for him to celebrate.

You and Ray had gotten such precious little time together lately. You loved that his band had become so successful- he was so talented at what he did, so he deserved that kind of critical acclaim. But, he’d been away from you almost all summer, touring Europe. You’d missed him terribly.

He’d flown home from Ireland on the ninth - and slept almost the whole day after. Jet lag seemed to take a lot out of him. You’d enjoyed having him home since then. But, on the 25th, a whole, new tour was going to start. He was expected to be in Washington state, opening for Linkin Park as part of Projekt Revolution.

Two weeks was all you were going to get with him - and then he’d be right back on the road again, until September. You didn’t know how he did it. Having to constantly travel from place to place, and do hours-long performances every single day. Whenever he did manage to find a moment to catch his breath, he would call you. He would tell you over and over again, how much he missed you, and couldn’t wait to see you again. It almost made up for the months you spent all alone, in this house that was too big for one. Almost.

“But, never mind that,” you muttered to yourself, as you stepped into the kitchen. Today was a special day - Ray’s thirtieth birthday. And he was actually home to celebrate it with you! When he’d turned 28, he’d been hundreds of miles away, doing a Warped Tour date in Montana. And when he’d turned 29, he’d been knee-deep in recording Black Parade. He was perfectionist and obsessive when he was working - it was like he refused to come up for air.

But today, he’s all mine, you smiled to yourself. There’s nowhere else that he has to be.

At the moment, he was sleeping. You’d gotten up extra early today, to give yourself time to prepare his birthday surprise. He’d been talking to you, the other day, about the summers he’d spent in San Juan as a kid, with his abuela. He said she’d made the best pernil he’d ever tasted.

So, you’d gotten the idea to try and replicate her recipe, to surprise him. You’d gone through the trouble of contacting his aunt, who still lived in Puerto Rico to this day. You booted up your computer, to reread the email she’d sent you, with cooking instructions.

The first thing you need to do, chica, you read, imagining the little old lady’s voice, is make a sofrito.

You were ashamed to admit, you’d had to Google what sofrito was. It wasn’t a part of your culinary culture. Then, you’d had to go to three different stores to find the aji dulce peppers that the sofrito recipe called for.

But, you’d figured it out eventually, successfully pulsing the ajices dulces in your food processor, with bell peppers, onions, garlic, and cilantro.

Ok, you thought, what’s the next step?

You went back over to your computer, to re-check Ray’s aunt’s instructions. You could mash the garlic in the food processor, too, she conceded. But if you want to be really authentic….well, I always use a pilón.

You’d had to reply to her email, and ask her what that word meant. A pilón, you’d discovered, was a mortal and pestle. Now that was old school. You’d had to go to a specialty kitchenware store to find one. But, it was worth it to you. You wanted the dish to taste as close to the way Ray’s grandmother used to make it, as possible.

I love my boyfriend, you thought with a smile, as you ground up the garlic with the pestle. He works so hard, and he never complains. He’s the heart and soul of his band. I don’t think the guys would survive without him. And he’s so good to me, too. Always a total gentleman, opening up doors for me and stuff. He’s so gentle and sweet. He even plays guitar to cheer me up when I’m sad. I don’t care how much effort I have to go through to cook this, if it’ll make him happy.

Now that the garlic was the right consistency, you were ready for the next step. You took your pork shoulder out of the fridge, and placed it in your roasting pan. You cut several slits into the meat with your chef’s knife. Next, you rubbed the garlic and sofrito, along with adobo and sazon seasoning, into the meat.

Then, you wrapped it in foil, and placed it back into the fridge. Ideally, you were supposed to let it marinate in there overnight, soaking up the spices’ flavors. But, Ray would have seen you if you’d started cooking last night, and that would have ruined the surprise. So, you hoped a couple hours would be enough to impart the flavors properly.

It was six now - at eight, you would pop it into the oven, and by the time Ray woke up, the house would be filled with the delicious aroma of slow-roasting pork. By one o clock in the afternoon, the pork would be done, and ready to eat.

The plan is foolproof, you told yourself, and killed a little bit of time by cooking some breakfast for yourself. You ate your waffles while re-watching a video that a fan had filmed last month, at Rock Am Ring.

It was pretty much Germany’s biggest music festival, and you were so proud of Ray, that his band had been chosen, to be a part of its lineup this year. You listened to him back Gerard up on vocals during “Welcome To The Black Parade”, as he shredded on the guitar. Ray was so cool. You felt so lucky, that he was yours. You wish you could have been there, to see this performance in person. You had never been to Germany. Maybe he would take you with him, the next time…..

You were startled out of your thoughts, when you heard the timer go off. Eight o clock already?

“Welp,” you sighed, “time to put the pork in the oven.” You put on a pair of oven mitts. The oven was already perfectly preheated, to 350 degrees. You opened the refrigerator door, and grabbed the roasting pan. You could already smell the sazon through the tin foil.

Just as you were carrying it across the kitchen, a barking Yorkie came bounding into the room, chasing a mouse.

“Bauer, get out of the way!” you called. You loved Ray’s little dog, but you didn’t need him underfoot right now.

Undeterred, Bauer ran straight towards you, still following the mouse’s trajectory.

“Bauer…no!” You tripped over the dog’s small body as he ran in front of where you were trying to walk. You grabbed the kitchen counter, instinctively, to keep yourself from falling. The pan of pork slipped out of your hand, and tumbled to the floor.

“Fuck!” you cried, as meat and sauce spilled all over the floor. Bauer ran over to the fallen pork curiously.

“No, no, boy, don’t….” you gasped. You wanted to scream, as Bauer took a bite out of the raw pork shoulder.

“Stop!” you cried, shooing him away. “Bad dog!”

You picked the pork up off the ground, and put it in the sink, out of the dog’s reach. It’s ruined, you thought miserably. There’s no way I can salvage the recipe now.

You got a paper towel, and started wiping the sofrito up off the floor. You could barely see what you were doing, because your vision had become clouded by tears.

I just wanted to do one, nice thing for Ray’s birthday, you thought miserably. He deserves the whole world, and now he won’t get anything at all, because I’ve fucking ruined his present.

You leaned against the warm oven door, dejectedly wiping your eyes.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s going on?” said a soft voice, and you looked up and saw Ray entering the kitchen.

“You’re awake?” you blinked, still sniffling.

“Yeah,” Ray frowned. “I heard a commotion out here. Is everything okay?”

“No,” you sobbed. “Ray, I’m so sorry. I wanted to surprise you, with a really nice birthday lunch, but I ruined everything….I made a mess….”

“Sssh, let me help you clean that up, babe,” Ray said gently, grabbing another paper towel, and mopping up the rest of the sofrito.

“No, Ray, you don’t have to do that,” you protested, standing up. “It’s your birthday, you should be relaxing, not picking up after my stupid ass.”

“You’re not stupid, Y/N,” Ray said soothingly, pulling you into a warm hug. “What were you trying to cook, sweetie? It’s not nearly lunchtime yet.”

“I was trying to make pernil,” you confessed. “Your aunt said it has to roast for five hours.”

“You talked to my tía?” Ray asked, surprised.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to just use a recipe off Google,” you explained. “I wanted it to be just like the stuff you ate when you were little. I thought it would make you, y’know, happy, and nostalgic, and….”

“Y/N, it was really sweet of you to go through all that trouble for me,” Ray smiled. “I know it must’ve been hard work, getting all those ingredients together.”

“I don’t care about that, Ray,” you said, tears still stinging your eyes as you looked up at him. “I would do anything to make this day special for you. I love you so much.”

“Well, I love you, too, Y/N,” Ray said, pulling you close again.

“But I fucked everything up,” you sighed. “I tripped over the stupid dog, and now your special birthday meal is ruined.”

“I don’t have to eat anything special today,” Ray shrugged. “You don’t have to slave in the kitchen for hours for me. As long as I get to spend time with you today, that’s all that matters.”

“But, the pernil was supposed to be my present to you,” you frowned. “Now that it’s messed up, I have nothing to give you.”

“Just give me your time,” Ray smiled. “And your hugs, and your kisses. That’s enough for me. These days that we get to spend together, are so precious to me. I wish we had more of them.”

“Me, too,” you said softly, holding him tight.

“What if we just went out to lunch?” Ray suggested. “Anywhere you want.”

“No, Ray. It’s your birthday, you pick where you want to go!”

“Okay,” Ray chuckled. “What about In-N-Out?”

“You could have anything you want on your special day,” you gaped, “and you pick a fast-food hamburger?”

“Well,” Ray smiled, “our first date was at In-N-Out, remember?”

You had almost forgotten. That was over three years ago, when My Chemical Romance had first come to California, to record Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge. Ray hadn’t been used to working in such a big studio, and had confided in you, that he felt a bit out of his league. You’d seen him getting stressed out, and suggested he take a break.

He’d been hesitant at first - when he started working on a new song, he didn’t like to put the guitar down until it was finished. But, as his friend, you had to remind him to take care of himself. He’d listened to you, eventually, and allowed you to drive him away from Bay 7 Studios, to grab a burger.

You had shared your first kiss, in the In-N-Out parking lot, on Ventura Boulevard.

“You remember that,” you grinned, “after all this time?”

“I’ll never forget it,” Ray smiled back, pulling you in for a soft and gentle kiss. You melted into his warmth.

“I don’t need a perfect gift,” Ray whispered into your ear, softly. “I don’t need a fancy car, that I could afford, now that the band has taken off. I don’t even need this fancy house in LA. Give me you, and some animal style fries, and I’m a happy man. It doesn’t take much, when I have such a beautiful person by my side.”

“I’ll always be by your side, Ray,” you promised. “Happy Birthday.”

#ray toro x reader #ray toro imagine #happy birthday ray toro

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pengychan · 6 years ago

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[Coco] Mind the Gap, Pt. 9

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

To see the version with art by Dara, check it out on Ao3.

Tag for all parts up so far.

A/N: Do you know what the sub drop is? No? Neither does Ernesto.

***

“I still have no idea why you insist on going by train.”

I still have no idea why you insist on going at all, is what Ernesto is really thinking. Héctor can tell. There is something gutting about the chasm between them, how the town they grew up in can hold so many fond memories for one of them and only bitterness for the other.

It is true that Héctor doesn’t need to go - he can honor his parents’ memory from here, too - but being there, and visiting their grave… it is different. Plus, there are faces he likes seeing again, from time to time. Unlike Ernesto, he did not cut all ties.

“It’s quicker,” he finally says, answering to the question Ernesto actually voiced. He puts another pair of trousers in the suitcase, and closes it before one of the chihuahuas can jump in. The little dog looks very displeased, and Héctor gives it an apologetic grin before turning back to Ernesto. “Besides, Imelda’s brothers will pick us up at the station.”

“The Bobos?”

“The Bobos.”

“In a car.”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t sound safe.”

“It probably isn’t,” Héctor concedes. “I think they have one license between the two of them.”

“And not an ounce of common sense. If you die in that hole, I won’t come to your funeral,” Ernesto mutters, but then he hesitates, and looks away. “... Tell your parents I said hi,” he adds, causing Héctor to smile a little. Ernesto was fond on them; their door had always been open to their son’s best friend, a home away from home when his own place got rowdy.

He remembers, distantly, a few times Ernesto actually referred to his mother as Tía Emilia. The memory causes something to grip his throat, tightly.

“I’ll make sure to tell them you’d come, too, if being anywhere near Santa Cecilia didn’t make you break out in hives,” he says in the end, and raises an eyebrow. Ernesto is standing by the door, leaning against the wall and right by an empty chair. “... Not sitting down?” he asks. Ernesto rolls his eyes, and throws him the closest thing he can grab - namely, a shirt he’d left on the chair. Héctor laughs, the lump in his throat gone. “Hah! But it was worth it. Admit it.”

“Never,” Ernesto says, but his lips are curled in a smile as well. With his clothes on, there is no telling what happened the previous night - and the marks it left on him. But they are there, and the fact Ernesto bears them gladly is… a nice thought, he has to admit.

“Of course it was worth it,” Imelda’s voice comes from the next room over, sounding just a touch smug. She pops her head through the door, her purse in one hand and the train tickets in the other. Her suitcase is already at the entrance. “I’m calling the cab,” she tells Héctor before turning to Ernesto. “I think one of your dogs got stuck in the bathtub. No clue how it got in,” she adds, and reaches up to brush back his hair, which isn’t quite as tidy as usual.

It is a casual gesture, and Ernesto doesn’t seem to think anything of it - no whining about his hair, no surprise. Héctor allows himself a secret grin before smoothing his expression.

“I’m almost done here. Go rescue your dog, we’ll be off soon.”

As Ernesto leaves quickly - they can hear a dog yapping from the bathroom, like it’s actually in some sort of danger - Héctor and Imelda exchange a glance. “He looks fine,” he says.

“I do like him better without his hair all gelled up,” she concedes, and Héctor snorts a laugh.

“Hah! No, I mean-- he seems all right,” he says. To his amusement Imelda rears back, clearly embarrassed by the lapse, before regaining composure.

“Of course he’s all right. We made sure of that,” she says tightly, closing her purse. “We’re good to go,” she adds.

Neither of them can imagine how wrong they are.

***

“... And so he said, ‘please never return’, signed, and we got our driving licence!”

“Well, one of us got a licence.”

“Not telling who.”

“We’re not even sure.”

“Works for both, though.”

“Hey, Imelda, why is Héctor green?”

To be absolutely fair, Imelda thinks, Héctor is not quite green. Green-ish, maybe, by the time Óscar slams the brakes and brings the call to a stop - well, a stall, since he didn’t bother to put down the clutch - in front of their house. They jerk forward before being brought back on their seats by the belts. Clutching his suitcase to his chest for dear life, Héctor lets out a long sigh of relief before he smiles.

“That was-- fun,” he croaks, fake as a three pesos coin.

“You are not driving us back,” Imelda says, throwing the door open, and for a moment before she regains her balance she almost stumbles back. God, it feels like she went through a round or two in a washing machine. Héctor needs to lean on the car a little, but it looks like he won’t, after all, hurl his guts. Which is good, really: last thing she needs now is having to deal with her parents after her husband greets them by throwing up on their doorstep.

“Imelda!” As though summoned at the door by the screech of slamming brakes - Imelda thinks she can smell something burning - her mother is suddenly there, throwing her arms around her. “It’s good to see you, mija. How was the journey?”

“It was fine,” she says, deciding to bring up her concerns over her brothers driving anything at all, be it a car or a bike, later. “Where’s papá?”

“He went to the parish to make sure everything is ready for Emila and Ricardo’s function,” she says. “It will be tomorrow at ten.”

Of course, the function in their memory is what they’re there for; tomorrow will be the tenth anniversary of their death. Imelda glances back - Héctor has recovered enough to open the booth and pull out her luggage, too - before speaking quietly.

“Thanks for organising it. I brought some money, as an offering,” she says. It is not mandatory to give the parish money for the memorial service, but of course it’s expected.

As a response, her mother shakes her head. “No need. Your father will take care of it.”

Imelda frowns, and lifts her chin. “We can afford--” she begins, a defensive note to her voice, but her mother holds up a hand.

“We know you can. It’s just… a gift from our part. Emilia and Ricardo were our friends, too.”

Oh, Imelda thinks. Right. She is so used to expect seeing her choices and achievements dismissed or played down, maybe she gets defensive too quickly. To be fair, her parents did get better. Maybe it is time she starts to accept something from them without feeling like it means having to swallow her pride. “... Of course,” she says, and smiles. “Gracias.”

“De nada. Oh, Héctor! Here you are! You’re looking good, considering that Felipe drove.”

“I think it was Óscar,” Héctor laugs, and gives her a hug. “You look good, Milagros.”

“Oh, flatterer,” she mutters, giving his cheek a light smack before pulling back. She looks at them both. “You two are much too thin. Come in, I have only three days to get you to eat…”

Imelda bites back a retort - I cook plenty, too - and just follows her inside. Annoyance fades quickly at the familiar sights and smells; at Héctor’s obvious joy to be there and her mother’s pride when he samples her cooking and declares it to be ‘delicious as always, mamá Milagros’. It doesn’t take long for her to smile along, too.

It’s good to be home.

***

Ernesto is fine.

All right, so he can’t sit down. He can definitely feel the welts on his ass and lower back and the back of his thighs, he can feel the bruises and the soreness in his back, but… he is fine. Better than fine.

Before falling asleep the previous night - so sore and sated, so exhausted and satisfied, wrapped in a towel and resting between two warm bodies - Ernesto thought briefly that morning would bring a price to pay. Embarrassment, for sure, maybe some sort of mockery.

He was wrong. Embarrassment failed to make an appearance, and so did mockery. He awakened to the smell of coffee, alone on the bed, to be treated to breakfast on a tray less than a minute later. His stomach grumbling, he ate quickly and even enjoyed the small talk about the weather and the trip ahead; even the thought of Santa Cecilia failed to sour his mood.

All right, so there was a tug of something in his chest as Héctor and Imelda prepared to leave-- without me --for their hometown, but it was easily dismissed.

They will be back soon, and he is fine.

***

“Hola, mamá. Papá. I, uh, brought flowers. I sat on them, sorry about that, but they’re still good - just need some water. We’re holding the function tomorrow, but I figured I’d… come say hi first.”

There is no answer, of course, but… well, it would be pretty worrying if there were any. As he fills up the vase, Héctor glances around. There are a few other visitors to the Santa Cecilia cemetery, but most are well away, and no one can hear him talking to the grave. Even if they could, he he doubts anyone would mind. A lot of people do that.

“Bet this place isn’t going to be so empty next time I visit,” Héctor says, placing down the vase and putting the flowers in. Every year, on Día de los Muertos, the whole place is brimming with people, flowers, candles and offerings. “I’ll get you the usual - oh, and I learned how to make Pan Dulce! Without help. Well, minimal help. It’s good, honest. I’ll get you some so you can try it out.”

The flowers sorted, he sits cross-legged in front of the grave and picks at some weeds that had the audacity to try growing right below the marble headstone. He glances at the single picture on it - his parents, in each other’s arms and smiling at the camera.

It was taken only a few weeks after his mother had found out she was pregnant, or so he recalls being told. They always wanted a big family, but that hadn’t happened: it had taken years of trying for Héctor to be born, and then there had were no others.

“It’s all right, mamá,” Héctor remembers saying once, when he’d realized his excited talk about a classmate’s baby sister saddened her. “I don’t need want one, anyway.”

“He’s already got me, Señora,” Ernesto, then ten years old, had declared. I made her mother laugh, and ruffle both of their hair. Héctor often huffed when she did, but he never really minded. He would give anything now for her to be able to do that again.

He runs his hand through his hair, trying to pretend it’s her touch, and glances at his papá's smiling face. “Looking good, both of you,” he finally tells the photo. It is one of the very few ones that escaped the complete destruction of their home, when a leaking gas pipe and a spark destroyed everything within seconds.

“It must have been quick,” someone - old Prospero, maybe? - told him, in a clumsy but well-meaning attempt to make him feel better. “They were gone before they knew it.”

It is a vague memory; looking back that entire week was shrouded in fog. He recalls being in the next town over with Ernesto for a gig when his phone had rung, only minutes before stepping on stage.

“You need to come back now. There has been an… an accident.”

From that moment on, there are only flashes. His phone hitting the ground, the way the room spun around him, Ernesto grasping his shoulders and asking what was wrong; the drive back to Santa Cecilia, with Ernesto pushing his father’s old car to the limit; the smoke in the distance where his house used to stand; the crowd of people in the street when the car came to a screeching halt, several hands reaching out for him, to hold him back, keep him away.

He doesn’t remember screaming but he must have, because his throat was sore for days; he could still hardly speak on the day of the funeral, as he stood before the black caskets, Ernesto’s arm around his shoulders. He remebers, vaguely, Imelda's hand squeezing his own - but they weren't that close, then. It was Ernesto to organize everything; Héctor had been so lost, so numb, entirely useless. If not for him… who knows where he’d even be now, a decade on.

Still wandering in that thick fog, maybe, hardly remembering how to breathe.

“Ernesto says hi,” Héctor says, and smiles. “He couldn’t come - you know how things are with his family - but I know he still misses you. He still has that moño charro you gifted him, papá, he wears it on the great occasions. Speaking of which, we’re probably going to get a record deal, you know? We’ve come so far, I bet you’d be--” proud “--Amazed. A lot of things happened since my last visit, and...er…”

All right. Maybe let’s… not tell them all of it.

“... Well, things are going well,” he finishes with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, and Imelda’s business has really picked up! I wish you had time to know her. I mean, you knew her, but-- really know her. She’s amazing and I am so lucky-- I wish you were there when--” his voice breaks and ay, maybe it wasn’t a good idea, insisting to visit them alone. With a sniffle, goes to wipe his eyes… only that he can’t. Something is holding his arm back, like he got his sleeve caught in something. “Wha--”

“Ruff!”

“... Huh. And how long have you been here?”

The hairless dog - a Xolo, not just a mangy stray - seems to grin at him through the mouthful of his sleeve, furiously wagging its tail. It makes Héctor laugh.

“Sorry, but I’ve got no snacks to share,” he says, pulling back his arm. The dog lets go of his sleeve and looks at him, tongue hanging almost to the ground, before shaking itself - causing droplets of drool to fly through the air, and that impossibly long tongue to wrap itself halfway around its muzzle.

“Hah! Come on, boy - go back home,” Héctor chuckles, knowing he’s probably looking at a stray, and picks up a stick from the ground. He throws it and the dog nearly flies after it, catching it in mid-air and starting to enthusiastically chew it up before even hitting the ground.

Héctor laughs again, feeling a little lighter, the urge to weep gone. He turns back to the grave to fill in his parents on what he’s been up to in the past few months - well, most of it - with a smile back on his face. When he finishes and stands, turning to leave the cemetery and head back, he doesn’t realize the dog is still there, staring at him from among the graves.

***

Maybe he’s… not as fine as he thought he was.

It is a thought Ernesto has been trying to chase away for a good few hours - trying to ignore the tightness in his chest, the shortness of breath despite just being out to walk his dogs at a leisure pace, a knot in his stomach that seems to be getting tighter and tighter... and, most of all, a growing sense of dread that is all the more frightening as it is senseless.

This is stupid. He’s fine. There is no reason to feel like this, none whatsoever.

“I must be coming down with something,” he mutters to no one in particular, reaching up to rub his forehead as he walks through the entrance and towards his apartment, the dogs yapping and pulling. Yes, that must be it. He’ll get in bed and sleep it off, and then--

“Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, did you know that?”

Oh, no. Not the old guy. With a snarl, Ernesto tears his hand off his forehead to glare. Old Chicharrón, who seems to like Héctor for some reason and dislike him intensely for some other reason Ernesto cannot begin to imagine, is standing on the stairs, glaring at him and at his dogs. He’s always been a grumpy pain in the ass, but he’s become even worse since Ernesto has taken in the chihuahuas, complaining endlessly about their yapping and clearly not realizing his grumbling is a lot more annoying than any noise a dog could make.

“Mind your own business,” he says… or at least, he tries to. The moment he tries to speak his voice is suddenly stuck in his throat, his chest is tight and-- why-- why is he glaring at him like that, like he did something wrong?

Because you did. You did everything wrong. Look at you, look what you let them do to you, and where are they now? They’re probably laughing at you, you know that?

“I--” Ernesto croaks, but he cannot force words out and oh, Christ, his eyes are burning.

Maybe he knows. He heard you, or they told him - told everyone. Half of Santa Cecilia is having a laugh at your expenses right now. Just wait until your parents get word of it. They won’t even be surprised, your old man was right about you. You’re a stain. Worthless. Did you really think a passable voice would make any difference? Change anyone’s minds?

“What, cat got your tongue?” the old man scoffs, and he seems about to add something, then he pauses and blinks. “Huh. You’re... not looking good. Drank too much again?”

No, no, no. What’s happening to me?

The dread gripping his throat turns into something close to panic because he can tell he’s about to cry and that is not, under any circumstances, happening in front of this cabrón. So Ernesto does the only thing he can do: he scoffs, lowers his head - he can’t look him in the eye, he will break if he does, like he could read what he let them do to him on his face and he’s never felt so ashamed before - and marches past the old man like an angry bull, almost knocking him over.

There are yells, but he hardly hears a word. He throws his door open, storms in, yanks his dogs’ leads to get them inside as well, slams the door shut… and then he freezes as the chihuahuas yelp. He looks down to see they’re huddled together, whining, cowering. They are so tiny, just how hard did he yank them?

“No,” he chokes out. “Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t-- didn’t mean--” he babbles, and that’s it. His voice breaks, his knees fail, and he sinks on the ground with his back to the door, crying his eyes out for no reason whatsoever. It’s infuriating and humiliating and confusing, and he cannot stop. He sits back, and the sting of the welts and bruises makes him weep harder, no matter how dulled it is. He hates it. He hates himself for allowing it.

“Lo siento,” he manages, and the dogs are all over him in moment, whining and pawing and trying to lick his face. He holds them close, breath itching, and slowly quiets down - telling himself that he’s fine, once he stops weeping he’ll be all better.

But he isn’t.

***

It takes Héctor a very conscious effort not to bawl before, during, and after the function.

Not so much because of the function itself - although Padre Edmundo said several unexpected heartfelt things, a welcomed break from the usual droning - but because of the sheer amount of people who showed up: old childhood friends, friends of his parents, people they just used to buy their groceries from. They're ten years dead, without relatives other than him, and the church is packed for them.

By the time he’s done shaking hands and giving his thanks to everyone as the church empties, Héctor is feeling a little light-headed; the steadiness of Imelda’s hand on his back is all that keeps him grounded.

“They sure are missed, huh?” he murmurs as they walk down the steps, finally alone.

Imelda smiles, and takes his hand. “Very much,” she says softly. “Do you want to visit--”

“... Héctor?”

The voice is one Héctor hasn’t heard in years, but he immediately recognizes it and can feel the the faint smile freezing on his lips. Barely aware of Imelda’s perplexed gaze, he makes an effort to smooth his expression before turning.

Ernesto’s mother looks… older than last time he’s seen her, and by more a few years; it’s as though a decade or more was dropped on her shoulders. No only because there is more gray in her hair, deeper wrinkles around her eyes: there is something else, too, something hollow and desperate on her face as she stares at him.

“Señora de la Cruz,” he finds himself saying, his mouth dry. He hadn't seen her during the function. “This is a, er… you look good.”

What crosses her features is not a smile, but a rather brave attempt at one. “It’s good to see you. You too, Imelda,” she adds. Imelda, who doesn’t know Adela as well as Héctor does - who knows next to nothing of her past the fact Ernesto has cut her out of his life - makes an effort to smile back, but pity is painfully obvious in her gaze… even more so when Adela speaks again.

“How… How’s Ernesto?” Her voice shakes a little, and there is so much desperate love in the way she speaks his name alone that it makes Héctor’s heart ache.

“He-- he’s fine,” he finds himself saying, hoping for the ground to swallow him up, praying that she won’t ask him to tell her where he is, how to reach him. He promised Ernesto he would never tell either of his parents, if he met them, and he will keep that promise but ay, it would hurt. “We’ve had a few concerts, and… more are planned. Possibly a contract with a record company. It’s going well.”

For just a moment, her smile seems real; it makes the desperation when she speaks again all the more painful. “That’s… that’s good. It’s what he always wanted,” she manages. “Can you tell him that we’re-- if, if he’d listen...”

“Señora de la Cruz--” Héctor begins, only to trail off when she pauses and reaches up to press a hand on her mouth, struggling to maintain composure. He is vaguely aware of Imelda’s fixed gaze, of the thin line of her mouth; he knows this has to look really, really bad in her eyes. She doesn’t know why Ernesto has cut his parents off, and he… he cannot tell her. He promised his best friend he wouldn’t tell.

“My apologies,” Adela finally says, and draws in a deep breath before reaching into her purse and pulling something out - a sealed envelope. “I know he doesn’t want to speak to us. But if you could give him this, I-- we’d be so grateful.”

We. Her husband, too? It’s hard, to imagine that man anywhere near grateful, but it is not the moment to argue. Héctor swallows a lump in his throat. “Of course,” he says, and he really wants to add something reassuring, but he doesn’t know what to say. So in the end he just nods awkwardly, and takes the letter. “I’ll give it to him as soon as we go back.”

“Thank you,” she chokes out, and nods. “God bless you,” she adds before walking away quickly, before she can cry - so that if she does cry, it will be in private. Héctor watches her leave, his heart like lead in his chest, and glances at Imelda. Her gaze is hard as stone.

“I know this looks bad, but--”

“You don’t need to make excuses for him, and I don’t need to hear them,” she cuts him off, and that is all; she doesn’t bring the encounter up again, doesn’t ask any more questions. It is a relief, because he wouldn’t be able to answer… but at the same time he hates seeing that harshness in her eyes, even though it’s not for him.

For the rest of the stay, the letter stays in his coat’s pocket, and it seems to burn.

***

This is bad. This makes no sense. And, Jesus Christ, it hurts - something’s been hurting for two days and he has no idea why. He hates it. He hates himself.

Burrowed under the blankets, he feels as though he’s drowning in fog. With his TV going in the background and four dogs curled up against him, Ernesto squeezes his eyes shut and refuses, refuses to weep. He’s holding his cell phone in one hand, and part of him really wants to use it to call Héctor and Imelda, tell them something is wrong - something is horribly wrong, he needs them to get back, he needs them there, why have they left him alone?

But he doesn’t. He hurts but he’s also so, so ashamed. The mere idea of mockery-- of course they’ll mock me after what happened, after what I let them do --makes him feel even worse, like he could shatter if he just hears their voices. In the end he throws the phone away, and curls up tighter. He just needs to sleep it off, he tells himself. He feels so empty and drained, surely sleep will come quickly if he just waits long enough.

But it doesn’t. He lays awake for what feels like a very long time, until his dogs are whining so loudly, so hungry, and he forces himself to sit upright on the couch to get up.

And, suddenly, the doorbell rings.

***

It’s fair to say Héctor has seen Ernesto looking a complete mess several times. It usually involves alcohol aside from the one occasion they never talk about, when he showed at his door sullen and bruised to ask if he could stay for the night.

Héctor thought that was the worst he’d ever see him; then he thought his near-breakdown at the vet's was it. Now, as the door opens to reveal a pale wreck of a man where his friend should be, he knows he was wrong.

“E-Ernesto?” he croaks, otherwise speechless. He doesn’t really want to say it out loud because he knows Ernesto would take it the wrong way, but he does look… pretty awful, really. It’s as though he hasn’t slept a minute since Friday, his skin an unhealthy ashen color, cheeks covered in stubble and hair unkempt. But his gaze is the worst thing, glassy and distant and haunted.

“What do you want?” Ernesto asks, and even the voice sounds wrong, so horribly hollow.

“I, uh… is. Is everything all right?” Héctor dares, gaining himself another sullen look.

“Yes,” he drones, avoiding his gaze. It’s as though he’s staring at something above Héctor’s right shoulder. “What do you want?”

“I… we, uh, were in Santa Cecilia--”

“I know,” Ernesto says coldly, and suddenly his eyes are on him, and he looks… angry is a strong word, but not pleased, either. When he speaks again, there is an accusing note to his voice. “Went off for the weekend and left me here.”

All right, so something is very wrong. Ernesto will occasional pout whenever he feels he’s being ignored, but this? This is too much. “Ernesto, what happened? You look--”

“I’m fine. Tell me what you want.”

Héctor hesitates a moment before he takes the sealed envelope from his pocket and hands it over to him. “We, uhm. We met your mother. She asked me to give you this,” he adds.

For several moments, Ernesto says nothing. He stares at the envelope in Héctor’s hands as though he’s handing him a live snake, and it is then that Héctor notices something else: his friend’s hands are shaking. “Madre de Dios, Ernesto, what--”

“Is this a joke?” His voice is like the crack of a whip, and it causes Héctor to trail off, wincing. Ernesto is staring at him with sudden fury, and his shaky hands clench into fists. “You know I never wanted to have anything to do with either of them!”

“I know, but she pleaded--”

“I don't care what she said! You promised me, Héctor!”

“I didn’t tell her anything! Not where you live, not your number. I only took the letter for you, but if you don’t want to open it, that’s fine - we'll just throw it away and--”

“You don’t give a damn, do you? You never gave a damn,” Ernesto snaps, and he takes an unsteady step forward, causing Héctor to back off. The door slams shut over the dogs’ frantic barking.

Something’s wrong. This isn’t right. He’s not well.

“Ernesto? Amigo, you’re not…” Héctor manages, taking another step back, and suddenly his back is against the wall, and there is nowhere he can go. Confusion begins to give way to fear - for the very first time, he is afraid of his best friend. “You need to--”

“I needed you, all right?” Ernesto cuts him off, and his features twist in a pained expression. “You and that… and her, and… you left me here, you never--”

“Enough.” Imelda’s voice causes him to trail off. She took the elevator to get home with the luggages as he went to Ernesto's door, but she must have heard the commotion and suddenly she’s between them. One shove and Ernesto is stumbling back, her hand is gripping Héctor’s own, and she’s getting him out of the corner Ernesto had driven him to, to the stairs leading up to their apartment.

No, wait. Something’s wrong with Ernesto. We can’t leave him like this, Héctor thinks.

He almost says as much, but Imelda speaks first. “Look at you, you’re a mess,” she snaps, her voice cold. “Sort yourself out, for God’s sake. Pretend you’re an adult.”

For a moment, Ernesto looks hurt before he scowls again. “You left--”

“For three days, yes,” Imelda cuts him off. “We had a lovely time and we’re not going to let your stupid drama sour it. Whatever your problem is, and whatever reason you think you have not to speak to that poor soul unfortunate enough to be your mother--”

“Imelda…”

“You know nothing, you--”

“-- It’s none of our business,” Imelda snaps, ignoring both of them. Her grip on Héctor’s hand is warm, tight, protective. She turns to leave. “Grow up.”

It’s far from the worst thing Imelda has said to him, but somehow it seems to hit him harder than anything ever has. Under Héctor’s stunned gaze Ernesto takes a staggering step back, his shoulders hunch as though a weight was suddenly dropped on him, features twisting.

“Wait,” he chokes out. Suddenly there are tears in his voice, and Imelda stops in her tracks, letting go of Héctor’s hand in her surprise. With both of their gazes on him, Ernesto seems to crumble: his back hits the wall, his knees give in, and then he’s on the ground. He burrows his face in his hands, lets out a keening noise. “Por favor.”

Héctor doesn’t remember moving, but the next moment he’s kneeling next to him, passing an arm over his shoulders. Ernesto is shaking and cold, he presses his face against his shirt and Héctor’s never seen him like this. It terrifies him, but he tries not to let it show.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. We’re going nowhere,” he says, and looks up at Imelda.

She’s staring at Ernesto, and her expression has gone from stunned to attentive, and then - just as Ernesto mumbles that something hurts, it really hurts, what’s happening to me - Héctor sees realization dawning in. Whatever is wrong with him, she seems to have an idea of what it is. “... Ernesto,” she calls out, crouching down as well, and puts a hand on his arm. Suddenly her voice is gentle, and her touch is light. “Come home with us. It will be fine.”

There is a sharp intake of breath, a shake of his head. “No. It won’t.”

“It isn’t going to last.”

“I’m going loco.”

“Nonsense. You just need to ride it out. It won’t-- Ernesto, look at me,” Imelda says, and grabs his chin to make him do just that. Her voice is firmer. “It won’t last. It’s just the drop.”

That causes Héctor to blink in confusion. Drop? What dro-- oh. Oh. Realization hits him suddenly, and he feels very, very stupid… and very guilty as well. They’ve given Ernesto aftercare on Friday, and he seemed fine, but he should have known this could happen. They hadn’t thought for a moment it would, not to Ernesto of all people… and they left him alone to deal with it.

“You need a bath,” Imelda is speaking again, practical as always. They help Ernesto on his feet and while it’s him he leans on he’s hanging to Imelda’s words, eyes wide. Héctor has never seen him this vulnerable, not even as kids. “And to eat, when was last time you ate?”

He blinks. “I… yesterday. I think.”

“Well, that won’t do at all. Come. Mind the steps, last thing you need is a literal drop…”

In the end, the letter from Ernesto’s mother goes back in Héctor’s pocket, and doesn’t come out for the rest of the evening. They get him into a hot bath and Héctor helps by washing his back and hair before he lends him his bathrobe. They give him a hot meal Imelda somehow put together in less than fifteen minutes, and Héctor manages to get him to have half a bar of dark chocolate too, as well as glass after glass of water.

Ernesto goes through the motions with hardly a word and without looking at them, so meek and quiet it’s more than slightly unsettling, but at least now Héctor knows what’s causing this and he knows that Imelda is right - it won’t last. He just needs a bit of help as he recovers, that is all, until the adrenaline and endorphin go back to normal levels again.

Imelda explains him as much, tells him all about the drop, what causes it, how it’s not going to last. “You’ll be fine. Give it another day or two. You’ll stay with us meanwhile,” she says.

Ernesto listens, nods and says nothing, but he seems calmer and eventually settles down on their couch, a blanket around him, glancing listlessly at the TV. The dogs - Héctor brought them upstairs after a quick toilet break - are curled up on his lap, and it seems to help.

Héctor and Imelda settle down as well, at either side of him. Héctor passes an arm over his shoulders, and Imelda lets Ernesto lean on her - and takes his hand hand when he reaches out. She rubs her thumb over his palm in slow circular motions while Héctor runs his hand through damp hair and talks about a song he’s thinking of writing, about how much he needs a new guitar case, about their next performance in a couple of weeks, about the weather, about anything that crosses his mind. And finally, he can feel Ernesto beginning to relax.

He sighs and leans on him, his hand still in Imelda’s own. “Héctor, what I said--”

“It’s all right, amigo. Just rest.”

“I didn’t mean--”

“Sleep,” Imelda chides him, reaching to brush some hair out of his eyes with her free hand. There is another sigh, and Ernesto finally closes his eyes. Héctor and Imelda exchange a glance over him, and Imelda smiles a bit. He’ll be fine, she mouths, and Héctor smiles back.

Yes. He’ll be fine, and they will stay right there to make sure of it.

***

[Back to Part 8]

[On to Part 10]

#pixar coco #hector rivera #imelda rivera #ernesto de la cruz #coco #mind the gap

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umichenginabroad · 6 years ago

Text

Una Prueba de Vida

Now, the topic you’ve all been waiting for…FOOD!

Argentina has many different kinds of foods that are unique and popular that I have never heard of before. One thing that contributes to this is their meal schedule. Breakfast is very small and lunch is typically a little smaller than typical ones back in the U.S. As I’ve mentioned before, they have dinner very late—my homestay usually eats around 9:15-9:30—so in between lunch and dinner there is a snack (like a tea time) called merienda to hold everyone over. In turn, there are many cafes around that people eat at for a quick snack and a lot of their foods consist of little pastries or small bites to eat like empanadas.

One drink that Argentina is very well known for is something called mate (mah-tay). As a part of our program with CEA we had a mate tasting at a restaurant called Los Picasso. Since we were a big group we shared about six or seven cups full of different kinds of mate. Normally people just drink the general kind of mate, but at this restaurant we had a selection of Mates from the company Mate & Co. which had flavors like Tres Mentas, Lemon, Chocolate, etc.

We learned from our guide how to prepare the mate ourselves. For some background, mate comes from a plant called yerba which is grown in certain areas of Argentina and it is harvested and used to create the mate. To prepare it, first you pour the cup full of mate and then shake it to a diagonal angle so we could put the straw in without having to dig through the mate and it also provided an area to pour the hot water. After putting the straw in you would take a thermos of hot water and pour it into the slanted side of the herb where it would soak up starting at the bottom (be careful not to wet the entire top so the mate lasts longer). Mate is kind of like tea in a way that the hot water soaks up the plant and you drink from it, but it is different since it is not in a bag and is prepared differently.

Me trying some mate!

According to our guide, the way mate works is that when there is a group of people the server would prepare the mate and then test the temperature themselves until it was ready to pass on to the first person to their right and they would drink until they passed it back to the server and this process would continue around the circle until someone says “thank you” meaning they do not want anymore. If someone new came, they would get the next cup of mate. Personally I wasn’t a huge fan of mate but apparently it is an acquired taste so maybe one day! (But I’m also not a coffee or tea drinker which doesn’t help.)

People all around Argentina drink mate, we even saw people carrying some on the trails around Iguazu. They have warm water stations for the cause.

They also had a lot of food at the tasting and they had very sweet snacks to our surprise.

Medialunes, panquques, alfajores de dulce de leche, torta frita, and more!

Medialunes are croissant looking pastries that differ in the fact that they have a sweet layer of glaze. Alfajores are like little oreo cookies but the cookie part is more like a powdery sugar cookie and they are filled with dulce de leche. Panqueques are a kind of desert here that I learned about on accident. I thought I was getting a panCAKE, but got a panQUEQUE at a restaurant. They remind me of crepes because they are a thin layer of dough sort of like a crepe or tortilla and they can be filled with things like cream and dulce de leche.

Dulce de leche is also a HUGE Argentinian thing and I love it. Dulce de leche’s consistency is like a midpoint between caramel and peanut butter, not quite dripping but not solid either. It is a hard taste to describe but I would relate it to caramel with a little something extra, maybe more milk? Either way it is amazing and a new favorite dessert flavor of mine.

I’m personally a big cookies n cream flavor girl, but I expanded my horizons for this trip when I went to try ice cream and usually got a form of a dulce de leche flavor. I’ve heard that the best ice cream place in Buenos Aires is called “Rapanui” and we’ve also visited one called “Lucciano’s”. Both had amazing ice cream, but I found Rapanui’s ice cream a bit creamier—both still very good though.

Ice cream from each place

A fun fact is that they put olives in lots of places like on every pizza (despite the fact that I don’t think they belong there - in my opinion)

Now now, I know it would simply be a crime to not talk about the steaks but bear with me because I don’t know much about steaks in general besides being able to say whether they taste good or not.

Argentina is known for their beef and they eat a LOT of it. Los of restaurants have many different food options and many include meats whether that be a steak or a milanesa (breaded meat). I find that a popular kind is called the ojo de bife or bife de chorizo. Big meat restaurants here are called parillas (barbecue places) and have not disappointed me yet.

They do not lie about how good the beef is, just look at these!

You can also find different kind of meat sandwiches all over Buenos Aires and Argentina. Choripan (a sausage sandwich) is very popular and I got a Bandiola with great sauces at San Telmo one day.

The bandiola and the small restaurant we got it from, cooked right on the grill for all to see

Another form of food you can find beef in is empanadas which I’ve talked about and shown before. Empanadas are filled pockets of deliciousness. Restaurants typically offer many kinds like ham and cheese, meat, chicken, corn, spinach, etc.

When we were in Salta we went to a town called Purmamarca for lunch where we ate at a restaurant the guide recommended to us. Here they served llama! I’ve never been one who has tried very exotic foods, but I figured while I am here I might as well try it. I got it in the form of a milanesa and found it oddly chewy at parts. Another thing I got in that tour was a ham and cheese tortilla that they sold at a rest stop on our way through the valley which was very good.

The llama, an empanad and the tortilla

More recently we went on a trip to Mendoza where we went on a tour that offered a five course meal or different things. The meal included things like squid, duck, trout, creamy rice in rabbit broth, and more! I’ve never had a five-course meal before but I was very happy with how it turned out. The portions were very small but for five courses I don’t know how I would’ve eaten it had it been normal meal proportions.

Our five courses!

Now that I’ve covered all of the major foods that I enjoyed I’m going to put a few more pictures of random foods I enjoyed!

Yummmmmmm - forgot the name of some of these foods but they tasted good

Hope I haven’t made you too hungry!

See ya later!

———

Larissa Wermers

Mechanical Engineering

Engineering in Buenos Aires, Argentina

#LarissaWermers #UmichEnginAbroad #IPE Summer19 #IPEArgentina

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themarchblessing · 6 years ago

Text

DULCE VIDA

SABRINA

Grabbing the scissors I sat down on the floor of the nursery cutting into these packages. I ordered some more stuff for the baby last week and it’s finally arrived so I’m super pumped to see all of her clothes in person.

My nausea had subsided greatly meaning I don’t have morning or evening sickness as often but the feeling is still lingering around. Now it’s more so certain smells that really bring me to my knees versus adjusting to a new baby. We got our house set up on the outskirts of Brooklyn which means that Izaiah technically should be going to a new school but Brian and Ravyn both play a big part in why he’s still at the same school. Izaiah had an amazing summer. Corey and I tried our best to get his travel bug going and I think we did an okay job. The further along I became in my pregnancy it made certain trips difficult to bear but I pushed through for our son.

Corey’s parents, Hassan and Carla, even came to visit a couple of times during the summer months. They also took Zay on vacations without Corey and I but that’s alright. I was happy to see Zay bond and interact with his other grandparents. They are all so smitten with each other.

Corey finished putting together his gallery which is by far the coolest I’ve ever seen. He really did his thing with the designing and I swear it’s the cutest thing to see him in his zone when he’s there. Since we relocated he had to close down his two smallest labs and put in a decent sized one in his gallery. I had never been to his other laboratories but when he finished with this space I got to see everything and I was so amazed. Brian helped him out a great deal which was stress off of Corey’s back and music to my ears.

Speaking of my handsome fiancée I wonder when he’s coming home with our baby boy.

“Aw this is such a cute onesie..” I gushed holding up the soft outfit in the air. Most of what I ordered from Childsplay Clothing is little t-shirts, pants with booties attaches to them, baby crewnecks, and simple shit like that. I’m putting my best door forward to be more prepared for when my daughter arrives than how I was with Izaiah. Saying that in relevance to their clothing. Placing the opened boxes aside I set the clothes I’ve taken out and grouped them together by color and style.

“Mom!” I heard Izaiah yell out suddenly.

“Nursery!” I called, opening up another box to see what’s inside here. “Oh this is what you’re coming home in baby girl. No question.” I smiled in certainty loving how soft this two piece set is. The top and pants are cream with a lavender block of color around the wrists and ankles.

Footsteps coming closer earned my attention to see Izaiah walking in the door holding what I take is food. The closer he walked I felt my stomach growl at the confirming smell that my baby got me food. I kid you not, being eight and a half months pregnant has made me eat so much. I crave food all the time and I get it all the time. When daddy isn’t here I spend so much time in the kitchen cooking for myself. And to think I slowed down on time in the kitchen when that’s all I ever did with my mother growing up. But to be honest I take full advantage of Corey being such a good cook. He loves it and so do Zay and I. I do try to give him breaks sometimes so he doesn’t get sick of it.

“Hi baby, how was school today?” Placing more of the clothes in the piles I kissed Zay’s cheek, making room for him to sit with me.

“It was alright. We got you food.” Zay set the bag down away from the clothes taking out what looks a sandwich and then he pulled out what appears to be soup. Oh my boys know me so well. The first four months of my pregnancy were a battle. Constant nausea, dizzy spells and a lot of napping! But once I made it to 28 weeks, I was able to move throughout the day without feeling so out of control. The foods I’m eating nowadays have a lot to do with the morning sickness. I try to eat very light and very simple. Every meal I consume has ten ingredients or less that won’t possibly upset my stomach, per my decision. “What did you do all day mom?” Izaiah removed his sneakers and joined me in opening up the remainder of the boxes.

Unwrapping the sandwich and not wasting any time digging into it, I stretched out my legs. “Well after I did the laundry, cleaned up the entire house, took a bath, and made like twenty pancakes, I didn’t do much else. This stuff came to the house finally so I’ve been working on this.” I explained, finishing one half of my sandwich.

Izaiah shook his head in silence probably at the fact that I ate this turkey sandwich so fast. I must admit I did demolish this pretty quickly and while talking. “Where’s your dad?” Eating the other half I thought about if I wanted to eat the soup as well but decided not to.

“He’s downstairs. Want me to get him?” Zay began to stand but I ushered him to sit back down. He and I continued to open up the mail. With his help I managed to get the baby’s room in order to completion. Corey and I finished decorating due to how excited we are to meet this little girl of ours. The only thing that I hadn’t gotten around to until today was organizing her clothes.

Once we finished I helped him with his homework. Night fell and that’s when the hunger struck. Corey was downstairs in the kitchen, per usual, Izaiah was getting cleaned up in the bathroom. I got my shower in for the night and just as I was leaving our ensuite to go and change I felt myself step in something wet. Stopping in my tracks I looked down at my feet seeing liquid running down the side of my leg.

There’s no pain but I don’t understand why my water is breaking. I made an advance to move but I felt paralyzed. By the grace of god I looked up to see Izaiah staring at me with his t-shirt halfway on.

“What’s wrong, mom?” He walked closer as he situate his shirt on his body.

“I think my water just broke. I want to sit down but I can’t move. Please help me.” I begged. I reached for his hand. Zay held onto my hand and walked me back into the room over to the bed.

“Sit down.” He ushered. I twinged with pain doubling over. My hand caught the bed spread in time so I had some leverage to keep me from falling.

“Go get..” I breathed not able to get the words out. My mind is racing and my heart is doing the same. I’m not expected to have this baby for another two or so weeks but the pain that’s now hitting me is unbearable.

“Dad, I know.” Izaiah helped me sit down then he bolted for the door. “Dad!” He shouted descending the steps loudly. I can’t hear if Corey is responding. “Come upstairs, mom’s water broke!” Just then I heard something crash and both of the boys running.

I managed to get to the closet and get out a pair of shorts and a bralette. With some strength I changed into this simple outfit.

“Bri?” Hearing Corey’s voice I walked into the bedroom and stood by the bed. He rushed over to me guiding me to sit down. “Your water broke this early? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m not due for another two weeks. I started having contractions though, heavy ones. They faded so I don’t know if these are the warning or the real thing.” I explained looking up at him.

Going to the ER is the route we decided to go with. Zay was getting dressed, Corey pulled out the hospital bags and loaded up the car. I threw on a flannel not bothering to button up. It gets hotter by the second, the contractions came back and drew closer together every few minutes. Maybe I am gonna have this baby early.

“Sabrina?” Corey called out in distress. I met him in the hallway carrying my small duffel bag on my arm. “You ready?” He asked. The stress in his face is making me feel bad. Of course I didn’t plan to have my water break this soon but what’s done is done. We prepared for the birth last month together with my doctor but not this soon.

Setting my bag down I wrapped my arms around him hoping to decrease his anxiety. “Breathe Corey, everything is gonna be fine.” Funny how I’m encouraging him to relax when I’m the one about to have a baby. He laughed at my tactics and hugged me back. The warmth of his hug and the security I feel helped to ease my mind. I’m seriously so blessed to have such a great guy like Corey. I feel like I say this so much but it’s only the truth.

“I love you Sabrina, I love you so much for everything.” He muttered, rubbing my back underneath the shirt. His lips on my neck soothed me all the more.

Smiling at his will to keep me at peace I told him I loved him back. We left the house in a hurry. Izaiah was holding my hand from the backseat and rubbing my right shoulder to help take some of the pain away. I practiced the slow breathing techniques I was shown in my classes the whole ride to the emergency room. Eventually I rolled my window all the way down to bring in more fresh, cool air. When we arrived at the doors Corey came around to help out.

“Zay stay with your mom.” He said handing the small bag to him. Corey went off to move the car while Zay and I walked into the hospital. The strongest urge to cry hit me full force almost bringing me to my knees. “Mommy!” I heard him distress. For a minute I didn’t feel him holding me anymore. But when I looked up I saw him wheeling over a chair for me to sit in.

I sat down still uncomfortable in my own skin as I began to go realize that I’m definitely having this baby tonight. I’m still not prepared for this mentally but clearly my daughter is ready to come out and give us her grand introduction. Zay pushed me over to the counter where a nurse seemed to writing or typing or something.

“Miss? My mom needs her doctor.” Zay approached the counter making his presence known boldly. The woman stood up and took one glance at me before paging someone. Corey met up with us and took over pushing me towards a room that the nurse directed us to.

Everyone and everything moved so quickly. The only person that seemed to move slow enough for me to keep up with was myself. Corey was talking to a different nurse most likely asking about why my water broke so soon. Izaiah was trying to help me get comfortable in this hospital bed. Time seemed to speed up too. A man walked in wearing a doctor's uniform. He gave me a run down on what he was about to do. I fumbled with my necklace listening to him tell me that I’m fully dilated and I’ve got to have to my baby right now or else.

Another man walked in dressed the same holding what looked like the shot for an epidural. The second he was in reaching distance of me I snatched the shot from his hands and snapped it in half. Launching it across the room away from my boys I glared at the doctor. “Do not come near me with any drugs. Don’t!” I warned, pointing my finger at him. The strength I possess right now is unmatchable by anyone. I’m not in the mood to be messed with or pissed off.

A hand gripping my wrist scared me. I jumped when I turned to see it was just Corey. I switched up my voice quick. “Please don’t let them give me drugs Corey. I don’t want any.”

Corey kissed my forehead gently, “I won’t.” He promised sincerely.

“No matter what?” I challenged.

“No matter what.” He nodded.

“Okay Sabrina it’s time.” My doctor walked in making me feel relieved that I don’t have the men in here helping me to deliver my baby. She and two other nurses in the room worked in a pace that was easy to monitor. I can’t handle fast paced movement. Not at a time like this. Izaiah was sitting in the chair waiting on standby in case he was needed paying close attention. Corey was dressed in the traditional gown keeping a tight hold on my hand.

You can guess what happened next right?

***fast forward ----- two months***

Rinsing the suds off of me I followed through with my hair, braiding it back out of my way. Peering to my right through the window I sighed just watching the small waves get picked up by the wind. The water transitioned into bigger waves that crashed against the shore violently. The sight made me gleam. I can’t believe I get to wake up to a view like this every single day now. Hearing that familiar hiccup I looked to my left grinning at my baby chew on her own fingers. Her eyesight bounced off of everything in the room before finding me. Ending my shower I filled up the tub with warm water that would satisfy me and not burn her skin.

I used her baby wash as bubble maker and added in the oil my doctor said was safe to be on her skin. Bringing Elle into the tub with me I laid her against my chest and washed her back using the sponge Corey just got for her. Because I had changed her right before I got in the shower and I’ve learned her routine I knew she wouldn’t go again for a while. After I got her backside I pushed my legs up to wash the rest of her. The look of surprise on her cute little face filled with me so much laughter. I guess she didn’t expect to get off my shoulder so soon.

“You are so funny, my love. Just like your brother and definitely just like your papa.” I snickered. The day after we brought Elle home from the hospital Corey had movers come and pick up the furniture from the house. I had no clue what was going on but I got the picture when he, Ravyn and Brian began packing up our personals. At the time we still hadn’t decided on whether or not we wanted to move. But Corey being the sneak that he is, had a plan all ready to go. I still hadn’t decided on where I wanted to go and Zay didn’t care either way. To my surprise Corey bought us a beautiful home on a slight hill along the coast of Panama. Punta Paitilla to be exact. We love it here!

The weather is beyond perfect and better than California. The views are spectacular, the air is so fresh, the amount of vegetation is unbelievable and the coziness of this city is wonderful. Not to mention the economy is at its peak. Corey and I owning our first home together with our beautiful babies has had me on cloud nine ever since we signed the papers. Our realtor was amazing too. She really worked with us to get a fair price and that made me so happy. Izaiah is in love with the new house as well. He loves being so close to the beach. He’s made friends with just about every kid who lives within a mile from us, in our area. He actually enjoys going to school these days.

Corey is working from home in the basement on some days. He wanted to be closer to us. I stopped working altogether since Elle is so young and she needs me around the clock. Being a stay at home mom isn’t all that bad. With Corey being here most of the time I get the extra help from him more than I anticipated. And I get to play house on a constant loop with my man which helps to add to my happiness.

Elle is such a sweet and quiet baby. She’s much quieter than her brother was way back when but she favors him in character. The bond that she has with her brother and father make me cry happy tears. Corey and Zay are in total infatuation with Elle, as am I. When we first settled back in New York Corey was petrified to be alone with Elle because he feared he wasn’t prepared for a newborn. Every time I would try and leave the room he would beg me to stick around or he would just follow me. Every single time. Bathroom trips included. His explanation for wanting me around so much in the beginning is because he didn’t want her to get hurt on his watch. I did everything that I could to ensure him that nothing would happen to her if they were alone but he was so paranoid.

That faded and now two months later he’s a lot more at ease with not always having me there. He still prefers to be in my line of vision which is perfectly fine. And me? Well I don’t have the words or the time to tell anyone how much I like being a new mommy again. I didn’t realize how much I missed the baby stage until I had my daughter. It’s a pleasure getting help from my boys when I have to change Elle, bathe her or just spend time with her. They enjoy doing those simple tasks alongside me to learn what it is that I do with her.

Placing Elle back on my chest I laid my palm flat on her back to hold her still. She was gazing out the window just like I was. Everyday we do the same thing. Our morning routine is simple yet very relaxing. I wake up when Elle wakes up. And since she sleeps by our bed I know when it’s time to get the day started. I go through my own morning routine at the sink while she sits on the bean bag. After that I get in the shower, get out and draw a bath for her and I. Once she’s all clean we sit in the tub admiring our view. At times she might get hungry while we were in the bathtub and other times she won’t. I have yet to force her into eating. I wait until she’s ready, no matter where I’m at.

“My sweet baby.” I murmured. Kissing the top of her head repeatedly I crossed my legs. Shortly after I heard movement downstairs I drained the bath of water, getting out to dry off. Setting her down on the towel spread across the bed I wiped her down and put a cloth diaper on to start off today with.

“Lori..” I heard Corey coming down the hall.

“In here babe..” I said, retreating to the bathroom to grab the lotion for her and the one for myself. Going back to finish Elle off I saw Corey backing into the room. He had a tray in his hand covered with a beautiful spread of I’m guessing my first meal of the day. Shaking my head promptly and grinning from ear to ear I sat down turning Elle over on her stomach to lotion her back and legs.

Corey sat the tray down and took over what I started. He instructed me to dry off so I could go on and eat before my food gets cold. I did as he said without any argument.

“Where’s Zay at?” I said in between forkfuls of pancakes.

“Outside with them boys from up the street. They came down here and knocked on the door asking if he could come out this morning. How was your bath? You miss me?”

Catching his hint and his side eye I playfully, softly kicked him. “You play too much,” I chuckled. “Yeah I missed you. Where’ve you been all morning? You usually stay up here until we go in the bathroom.”

Corey silently begged for some of my food so after he got that he took Elle into the closet. “I had to finish boxing up that stuff for my mom. I sent it off so I’m hoping she’ll have it by next week. She needs it by Thursday. What you want to wear today baby?” He asked from inside the closet.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t really have anywhere to go. Oh no wait, we have to go to the market. I need to get a few things for dinner this weekend. Brian and Carli are still coming right?” Picking up my mug I began slowly sipping down my tea careful not to burn my tongue like I always manage to do so at some point during breakfast.

Corey appears with a my sandals, a white tank top dress and a sweater draped over his arm. “Yeah they’ll be here Friday afternoon. I think they come in at like two or three.” He explained while laying my clothes out for me.

“We have to call and make sure that bed is gonna be here by tomorrow. Or else they’ll be sleeping on the floor. Here..” sliding the tray over to him so he could finish my omelets like he nevers passes on I stood up and finished getting myself ready.

“It’s coming tomorrow. I already talked to the dude this morning. How do you smell so good after baths with mommy?” Turning over my shoulder to see him goofing off with Elle I lotioned myself down.

Afternoon came quickly. Izaiah stayed behind with his friends while we hit the market to finish gathering supplies for our big weekend. Since moving here, our friends and family have been begging to fly out and visit. Now that our house is all set up we planned the visit and did a round of calling to our loved ones. Our parents, Brian and his girl are coming to stay with us. We’ve got the space which is great because I would’ve been sad if we couldn’t accommodate our company.

We came back to the house, I fed the baby and rocked her to sleep. Corey and I squeezed in two rounds of love making that we got to fully enjoy. We didn’t have to rush this time and that’s what made it all that it was. Fucking fantastic. I was even blessed with the opportunity to lay up under my husband once we were done.

Instead of waiting for Elle to walk to have a big wedding we had a small ceremony with her and Zay. However we did agree that once Elle is a little older we would do it all over again and have our family and friends there. His reason for wanting to marry me so quickly was due to not wanting to hide my new ring any longer. And that thing is jaw dropping gorgeous. I wear the proposal ring on my right hand and my wedding ring in its rightful place. They’re special enough to wear together all of the time.

“I like being married.” Gushing over the details of our miniature wedding I kicked my feet up on the table. If we stay here for a long time I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this view from our backyard.

Throwing an arm behind my back Corey leaned away from me taking countless pictures of myself and Elle who was doing absolutely nothing. All she can do is look around regardless of her not understanding where she is.

“You mean as in being married to me or just in general?” He quipped with a little attitude. A sly smirk spread over my face tempting me to feed into his reach for me to tell how I feel about him.

“Both. I never put any thought into marriage. Like whatsoever before you came along and popped the question which took me by complete surprise by the way.” Raking my nails through her hair I squeezed my arm around her just a tad.

“I mean..what can I say? I was tryna keep up with you and your spontaneous ass. You never once shown yourself to be the predictable type Lori. But nah then again I’ve taking you by surprise our entire lives. Always felt like you deserved that and more.” Playing back the first time confession I looked next door seeing Izaiah play some unknown game with the kids who live in that house. “Would you believe me if I said I was nervous to ask you and on your birthday for that matter? A huge part of me thought you were gonna say no before I even came up to the room. No one knew about me wanting to propose so I didn’t have anyone to give me that last minute push so I just went for it.”

“That would’ve been one hell of a turn down.” Corey and I had a rich laugh. He, just like I, were no doubt reminiscing over that night but with a different outcome. “Where do you think we’d be if we never hooked up at Brian’s party?” I asked seriously. Not once have I let it cross my mind on where I’d be in life without my husband. I never wanted to until now. We’re settled and comfortable in our life and our marriage so I think it’s safe to speak on this. Turning to my right I swiped my thumb over his cheek. I swear I have the sexiest man in the whole world. When I think about who Corey’s father is I get all weird inside. Only because I feel like I just complimented Hassan in ways I shouldn’t.

But if we’re being honest here, Hassan passed his looks down to his only son.

“To be honest with you baby, I don’t know. I don’t want to know where I’d be without all this.” In reference to everything he’s speaking of Corey outstretched his free arm.

“Only God knows. I like being with you. I thought it would be just a little weird with us being a couple. Take out the sex. I’m talking about everything else that comes with a relationship. A long time ago I pondered on what it would be like to be Corey Howard’s girlfriend and once it actually happened I was just like..” pausing to look at our baby I took her off of my chest to find her once again nibbling on her fingers. She smiled at me, those deep set impressions of dimples in her cheeks are a sight to see. She’s such a beautiful little baby. A perfect mix of Corey and I. For a two month old she’s smart and a surely a charmer to everyone she meets.

“She wouldn’t be as perfect as she is if it wasn’t for you. You know that right, baby?” Corey moved in closer to me palming the one side of my face to kiss all over the side he was closest to. The tickling sensation of his wet kisses made me squirm.

“Touché papa, touché.” Laying my head on Corey’s shoulder I passed Elle to him since she was eyeing him heavily. Anytime her daddy comes around Elle forgets about anyone else but Corey. “Clearly she thinks you’re just as handsome as I do.” Holding her hand I closed my eyes to soak up this moment. There was a pause and then I came to realize something. “I’m glad you made that switch.”

“Where did that come from?” Corey threw an arm around my shoulder keeping me snug and warm.

Opening my eyes back up I checked on Izaiah smiling to see him full of joy. He must have felt someone staring at him so when he turned to make eye contact with me he waved. I waved back seeing him and his friends go inside the house.

Focusing on Elle I cuffed her sleeves so she wouldn’t chew on them. “I really don’t know. Just thinking about all that we’ve gone through together, expanding our family and seeing how great of a father you are touches me in a way I can’t explain.” I have to confess. For a long time I was so mad about what happened. Overtime is when I learned to appreciate Corey on a different level.

In full confession, I wouldn’t be where I am in life nor would I be this happy if we never drunkenly hooked up last year. I also wouldn’t have my little girl. In the end that switch changed Corey’s life for the better and it surely did for mine.

#the march blessing #short story

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katestestkitchen · 7 years ago

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•• Go Slow •• “Travel changes you. As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life — and travel — leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks — on your body or on your heart — are beautiful. Often though, they hurt.” – Anthony Bourdain The scars are real. They’re on my soul and on my heart. Some days they felt like machete lashings. They are some of the ugliest days of darkness I’ve ever experienced, laid out on a bathroom floor sobbing to god to allow me to find the right direction. There are marks however. They didn’t come in the form of any tattoos but they will be there for the rest of my life. They’re friendships that made this all something I could keep pushing through on the harder days. They’re sunsets that made me believe that the morning would bring a better day. They’re talks over coffee about what inspires me and fuels my need to get up each morning. These are the marks and scars that have made me a bigger and hopefully better person than I was 8 months ago. That’s the person I’m taking home. Travelling has always been a passion of mine. I’ve experienced many places in my life with loved ones around the world. From driving Highway 69 in Northern Ontario, to across the border through the south to North Carolina, and through Parisian cobblestone streets, I knew that travel would always be something I strived to make happen in my life. The main fuel of my adventures has always centered around food. Stopping for bubble gum ice cream in Parry Sound, roadside cheeseburgers in America and twice a day hunts (minimum) for a French patisserie with macaroons. Ask me if I remember the date, or even the time of year I touched down in a city around the world and I’ll spend hours wracking my brain. Ask me what we ate in the middle of Florence, or at a hidden spot up a few flights of stairs, down a long dark hallway and behind a big blue door in a beautiful, lush garden in Rhodes and I’ll ramble on and on about the amount of salt on the lamb leg or the shredded beet salad in house made yogurt that turned the dressing the brightest colour of fuscia you have ever seen. I was born to travel because I was born to eat. A few years ago I left my hometown for my first solo adventure though South America. I touched down in Buenos Aires to dive into Argentinian culture. $5 bottles of Malbec, steak that melts in your mouth and enough dulce de leche to give you type 2 diabetes. I was in heaven. I walked the streets from morning to night picking out where I would eat that day, or the following. I perused museums just to pass time before my next meal and sipped some of the finest wines in the world while attending tango shows at night. The trip continued in very much the same way through Mendoza for Italian food served up twice a day by my incredible hosts at “Antigua Residencia”, and steaks over wood fires in the mountains after sunset horseback riding. Over to Uruguay, my travel buddies and I lived off empanadas fresh off food carts while roaming the streets snuggling puppies, hoisting 30lb watermelons over our heads and listening to curbside Ska bands. Last but certainly not least, Santiago, Chile. Pisco sours, the last of the great, cheap wine and the least amount of sleep I had on the entire trip, my new hostel friends and I roamed the streets in search of Churro’s. I’ll never forget the look on my new friend, Naomi’s face, when I walked her right up to the back of someone’s van to purchase churro’s. She was horrified, sputtering out stressfully in her Australian accent that we’d definitely need our health insurance to cover what we were about to ingest. Those were the best damn churro’s I’ve ever had. Piping hot, covered in cinnamon sugar and dipped in a hazelnut chocolate sauce. She ended up eating hers and half of my own. I will never forget the look on her face. We had found the holy grail of churros and we would never experience that moment with anyone else again. We stayed up until sunrise, climbing bridges over rushing traffic, danced to the Backstreet Boys in a bass pounding nightclub, and I didn’t even feel the Pisco hangover the next day. I left that adventure knowing that nothing could stop me from ever finding that feeling again. When I left for Caye Caulker, Belize late last year I had the same feeling of excitement as I did when I left Chile. Hungry. Hungry for travel, a warm getaway and a life based completely on my own twists and turns. I didn’t know much about this tiny island aside from a hurricane splitting it in half in the 60’s and that it was VERY small but I was excited to learn how to “Go slow” and finally start making the time to sit and write every day. Plus, it was right next to Mexico, so, tacos. My writing is fuelled from the same place as my travel goals. I’m sure you’ve picked up on how much I love to be in the kitchen, in a restaurant, at a table, at a bar, outside a food cart….you get my drift. I was finally going to find the balance between my restaurant work and my writing to make the time to cook, eat out everywhere and be inspired by the locals. Unfortunately for me, Belize didn’t offer half the things that South America had for me. This is in no offense to the local food here, but it’s certainly not for me. The lobster (during lobster season) is the freshest and meatiest I’ve ever had. Outside of that, I’ve had rice and beans less than times I can count on my fingers, I’d be happy to never see another snapper fillet again and there’s a sincere lack of vegetables here outside of a few consistent ones (thank god for sweet peppers). There are plenty of influences here from other countries and lots of street food, but there are few restaurants that offer much of anything different from place to place. Grilled meat/fish, two sides, and two rum punches for the lucky price of $25BZ! If you’re looking for a budget friendly island to focus on diving, snorkelling or just getting drunk, this place is a gold mine. If you’re diving the Blue Hole all day (especially for the price that diving runs you) you’d be more than happy to see a plate of fried chicken with rice and beans at the end of your day. Right before you pass out. Well I don’t dive, and I wasn’t interested in the food. The writing stalled quickly, the only times I felt inspired was when I was missing home and scoured the island or close by cities for ingredients that reminded me of the Pacific Northwest. The restaurant work was exactly what I wanted. Packed with people from around the world every night with incredible stories to share from their sunburnt selves. The energy was high and I found myself more immersed in them than I was in anything local. It worsened once high season ended, the island cleared out and felt like a ghost town overnight. The time to write was NOW! But there was nothing for me, to write about. I knew my journey was coming to a close when I thought back on my time here and couldn’t tell myself of a time I had tasted anything here that lit up my eyes when it danced on my tongue or left me scraping my plate for any leftover drops of sauce. If I was going to immerse myself in all the shit that happened on this island and not get anything life changing to eat out of it then it was time to head on home. I think it’s important for me to say that this is not a judgement call on the people of Belize. This is the third world. The culture and priorities are very different. Minimum wage is $3.30 BZ ($1.65 US) and many people here work more than one job with plenty of mouths to feed at home. Food is a means to survive, not to indulge in for the majority of residents outside of big celebrations. Rice and beans are cheap and filling, imported goods don’t even grace the list of necessities. Locals are fighting to just make each day better for their families. I’m very blessed and privileged to come from Canada. I was brought up in a family that didn’t struggle to make ends meet, keep our laundry clean or a roof over our head. We had opportunities well into our adult lives that provided us with a feeling of complete safety and stability. This isn’t just a problem in Belize. This happens in every single city around the world. In pockets of forgotten neighbourhoods your very own neighbours, even if they aren’t living right next door to you, are struggling. It’s time for me to go home to Canada and help the people of my hometown, through food and community support. I want to cook, write, host, and experience more of what my own people are going through. I want to share their journeys and stories. There have been scars through this adventure, but one of the marks of the Belizean people is their support of the community. When one person’s house falls over, they have an offer to stay with their neighbour. When one family’s food runs out, there’s enough in the pot for them down the road. When someone is sick and can’t care for their family, there’s a Belizean mama across the way that’ll care for them. Caye Caulker IS community and the world NEEDS more of that. I doubt I’ve made much of a mark on this island but it’s certainly left its mark on me. A BIG thank you to everyone here who I’ve had the privilege of positive contact with. Your stories, struggles and successes have been sincerely inspiring. There are no words to explain how much you lifted me up each day when I was feeling low or much I loved jumping into having fun in the sun with you on a hyped up Monday Funday. Your island is beautiful and I’m proud to say I know so many people who are working so hard to make a difference in Belize. I wish you all well. Don’t say goodbye, just say so long. I’ll see you again soon on the dance floor at Sports Bar.

#katestestkitchen #katedoesbelize

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