too many tacos

  • Teacher: *taking roll*
  • Teacher: Kuro Honda?
  • 2p Japan: here.
  • Teacher: Allen D. Jones?
  • 2p America: WASSUP
  • random student: what does the D stand for
  • 2p America: *smirks*
  • 2p Japan: don't
  • 2p America: it's D for Daniel
  • 2p Japan: stop
  • 2p America: AS IN-
  • 2p Japan: shut up
  • 2p America: -DAMN DANIEL

anonymous asked:

27 with Dean please :)

“Alright. Use your feet, Dean. You can do this.”

“Y/N, I have to tell you something,” he slurred, leaning heavy on you. You hitched his arm around your shoulder a bit more solidly, struggling to get him into the threshold of his bedroom.

“Is it that you had way more to drink tonight than you should have? Because spoiler alert, I already know that,” you said, grunting against his weight.

“No, no, no. I have to tell you something important,” he repeated. The two of you managed the seemingly insurmountable task of getting him through the doorway and he dragged his feet as you pointed him towards the bed. A few more blundering steps and you made it, unwrapping him from around you.

“Ok, Dean,” you said, letting him fall graceless to the bed. “Tell me the important thing.” One of his legs was stretched out while the other fell over the side, and you lifted it up before starting to work on the laces of his boots.

“Y/N, come here first,” he implored. You made him wait, working both of his boots off before taking a seat on the edge of the bed, facing him with an amused grin.

“Is it a secret?” you asked, and he gave you a crooked smile, his eyes hooded and heavy.


“I’m all ears,” you said. He took your hand in his and gave it a small squeeze.

I’m pregnant,” he said, trying and failing to keep his face serious. You feigned a gasp, bringing a hand to your chest and opening your eyes wide.

“Is it mine?” you asked. He closed his eyes and laughed.

“Hell yes,” he replied. You rolled your eyes, watching him a moment as his chest rose and fell steadily.

“Congratulations. It’s a food baby,” you whispered. “Too many tacos. Too much tequila.”

“No such thing,” he mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Tell me if you feel that way in the morning,” you said, chuckling soft as he smacked his lips and turned over onto his side. You started to move away, but he reached out with more dexterity and speed than you’d thought he’d be capable of in his inebriated state, and encircled your wrist.

“You want me to stay?” you asked. He nodded, scrubbing his free hand over his face. “Are you a little bit needier when you’re drunk?”

“No,” he said, face defiant and brow furrowed. You laughed and placed a quick kiss to his forehead. He let go of your wrist and you kicked out of your own shoes.

“Are you a little bit brattier when you’re drunk?” you asked. His lips turned up in a small grin and you laid beside him, smiling as he wrapped his clumsy arms around you.

“You’re good at taking care of me,” he mumbled.

“No arguments here.”

“You’d be good at taking care of a baby,” he said. You stared at the wall of his bedroom, taking in his words, focusing on his thumb rubbing small, lazy circles over the back of your hand.

“I told you it’s a food baby,” you teased, keeping your voice light. His nose was pressed against your hair and you felt him shake his head.

“But we could have a real baby, you and I,” he said, holding you a little tighter. Your heart was pounding, images coming unbidden to your mind of a child with Dean’s green eyes, your smile.

“You’d have to give up tequila and taco Tuesday,” you said with a small laugh, keeping it light.

“Done,” he said. His voice was tired, heavy as lead, and you squeezed him back, closing your eyes.

“Tell me if you feel that way in the morning,” you said once more in a whisper. And you couldn’t help but believe him when he said in a voice more sure and steady than you’d heard all night,

“I will.”

You know, Notorious getting cut from 13 to 10 episodes and having a likelihood of being cancelled, has had me pretty bummed out here lately. I really love working on the show, and the cast that I get to work with. But after a talk with my agent, I’ve realized that the only thing I can do is start looking forward. He’s pushing me towards auditions for pilots and some movies, that way I have a fall back if we get the announcement the show won’t be coming back at all. And when I’m not doing that, I’m either eating way too many tacos or dancing around my place in my underwear. Or both, it tends to both a lot. Hi, I’m Ryan Guzman, and I’m currently not sure if I’m employed or not.