Disclaimer: I specialize in angst content along with domestic ideas and some fluff on the side. Blame my cancer moon boo-hoo 😜!
Smut is not really my thing (although I may read or reblog that content!)…in short I find that writing that material isn’t my best so respectfully…don’t request that content from me. Sorry if that’s boring for you but there’s plenty of writers who are GOLDEN in that department and I unfortunately am not one of them lmao.
It’s so funny (all these years later) I was reading MJ fanfiction back in middle school because my older cousin (who’s like a sister) was in love with him so bad like I can’t tell you how many times we watched that one DVD + mountains of music videos whenever she slept over and I was obsessed (still am) with rock my world. It’s just cool seeing it all come back around—not that it ever stopped I’m sure.
RIGHT WHERE YOU’RE STANDING — Mateo Diaz [Summer Prompts]
A/N: I peep that a few are liking some of my old works—I only have two, not counting this one ofc—for Mateo so I’m absolutely gonna do my due diligence and write MORE! I’ve been tempted to watch off campus for Jalen but I DO NOT like some of the exclusion I’ve been seeing, along with these undertones in that fandom so I might just stay my behind in Pitt Land instead idk 💅🏽
PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & I’m using: FLOWERS: For A to tuck a vibrant flower behind B’s ear. + FOURTH OF JULY: For the characters to watch the fireworks explode, sitting underneath with their hands intertwined + STORIES: For the characters to tell each other stories underneath the covers.
WARNINGS: Reader can be classified as a bit of a loner? A parent is mentioned, textured hair, reader missing their man and trying to adjust, summer themes, & fluff 💙
𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆ 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆ 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎.
Head in the puffs.
Something your mother used to mutter to you once she caught sight of you not listening to her.
Which was often.
Sometimes intentionally when she was on your ass about choices you’ve made that she didn’t agree with and other times…it really wasn’t on purpose.
Whether it be you as a child seated on a pillow in front of the couch with her rough fingers in your hair, raking through the kinks with a wide toothed comb, her chatting to you in the driver’s seat cause she hated your driving—parents were odd like that, almost as if they were so used to a routine of carrying you around and not expecting you to ever do the same for them in your adulthood, and there were just times even on the phone with her you spaced out.
There were clouds of thoughts that always seemed to occupy your mind.
You’ve been to a few doctors about it—don’t worry.
You’ve always been a thinker.
This morning it had been about new movie releases, your strange dreams that further proved your case that you needed to lay off the melatonin, and if chipmunks ever ran hot with their teeny bodies.
That last part only occurred to you since you saw one run across the top of the grill out on the patio on your way into the kitchen after sunrise.
Mind always running…you probably got about five to six hours of sleep.
It also didnt help that you no longer had another body cocooning around you at night anymore.
July may have tumbled in hotter than June but you still missed that secure embrace.
And before you think that’s some type of gothic horror kink—you meant that in the most loving way possible.
With Mateo, your boyfriend of three years now working night shifts, made nightfall in your shared tudor condo much different.
A hint of loneliness maybe?
Like a swing set with only one still swaying in the rising heat of summer…
If you wanted to be human dramatic about it.
Since your sleeping patterns never have been the best, you became fully awake by the time Mateo slipped into bed beside you or sometimes he’d even find you in the kitchen making breakfast.
This was one of those mornings.
He crept around into the kitchen after patting down your wire fox terrier, Luis, who greeted him first. Usual backpack disregarded somewhere by the foyer, trainers kicked by the door, but still sported his nurse badge and light jacket over his navy scrubs.
“Morning babe,” his voice thick with a need of rest speaks to you, his hands squeezing at your waist as you straightened up from leaning over the kitchen counter.
You place the bowl of the açaí smoothie you made down, turning to fully greet Mateo, pecking his lips, his facial hair pricking you as you did so, before embracing him tightly.
“Solid shift?” You quiz, pulling back to stare all over his handsome yet exhausted features.
His head tilts with a blink of his eyes, “The same old same old.” His thumbs gently caress at the sides of your torso, “Sleep okay?”
“Good enough.” You say under your breath, turning back to your bowl.
Mateo hums, walking around you to steal the spoon to scoop some of the blended purple berry along with the fixings to place into his mouth. He gives his approval—as always—with a pinch of his pointer and thumb.
A scoff and a playful roll of your eyes is your response, which only earns a dimpled smile from Mateo, who then moves to copy your position but not without bumping his hip with yours.
Of course you do it right back, earning an echo of quiet laughter between you both.
And he’ll stick around for a couple of minutes because quality time was always important, even if it’s something you’re grasping at every so often.
It’s no easy task dating an essential worker but it didn’t make you love Mateo Diaz any less.
You send him off with a flower tucked in his frizzy curls, a product from running around like crazy at the PTMC. The petals, which you pulled from the bouquet of flowers he got you a few days ago from the vase on the counter, stand out pretty against his full dark hair.
“Why thank you mi amor, I shall cherish this in your honor as I rest in my chambers without you.” Mateo bows, flower staying perfectly still in his hair, with one hand on his chest as he holds eye contact with you.
A snort escapes from your nose and Mateo holds out his hand for yours.
His lips touch the back of your hand and you still get flutters just by that alone.
“Shoo, mi precious fopdoodle. Your queen has things to tend to.”
Mateo laughs in shock, standing upright with a shake of his head, “I could definitely go to war with you on trying to figure out what the hell that means—I’m sure it’s a insult but I’m way too tired to do that, so I’ll let it go for now but…I’ll remember this.”
He points in light warning.
You lift your chin and nose into the air, “As you wish.” Your voice turns back to normal, “Love you, sleep well for the both of us.”
Mateo gives you a small smile, his fingers tapping at his chest lightly, he croaks out a, “Love you back, baby,” then disappears around the corner.
A sigh leaves your lips once the creaking of the hardwood disappears upstairs.
The kitchen feels bigger afterward.
Quieter.
Almost empty.
Equivalent to slow drips from a kitchen sink or skipping rocks that sink straight to the bottom of a lake.
Just you.
Familiar fur presses against your bare leg…making you peek down into Luis’ deep set ink eyes, “Guess it’s just you and me, huh boy? Let’s go for a stroll.”
His tail immediately wags bringing a smile out of you.
𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆
𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆
𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆
Mateo won’t sleep past four pm.
He’s aware he’s on call again for this staple American holiday.
He won’t clock in until seven or unless Lena calls him in earlier.
He hopes she doesn’t but you never know.
Mateo is already prepared to take on more than an eight hour shift again.
It’s always in the back of his mind to stay ready but he can feel the pull to you first.
So he manages the little personal time he has best.
Another shower to wake him up this time, lets his hair air dry for a while before he’s sneaking it into a bun in the car, not dwelling too much on breakage like you’ve warned him, cause at the end of the day, Mateo’s still a guy and yes he preferred his hair longer but most days it got in the way.
While most celebrated America with patriotic attitudes, hot dogs, hamburgers, and ribs, the both of you were having spicy sushi rolls and matcha.
Mateo still wasn’t a huge fan of matcha but you claimed it was healthier than coffee but caffeine was still caffeine and Mateo had a feeling he would need a lot of it to get through this shift tonight.
You’re seated together on the back patio, shoulders brushing, Luis at your feet chewing on a bone, heads tilted up towards the sky.
Sparks exploded red, white, and blue against the afternoon sky. Night hadn’t even arrived yet, but expecting people to wait for darkness (even if it already had it) on the Fourth of July felt unrealistic.
Mateo’s holding onto your hand, leaving both of your hands resting against your pressed thighs, a bit sticky from the heat of your skins but you don’t dare pry them apart.
Mateo’s other hand uses his chopsticks to finish up the last roll.
Multi-tasking at its finest.
The next set of fireworks hold a purple and almost pink palette to it, a beautiful contrast to the Carolina blue sky.
That one’s been your favorite so far.
Mateo can tell since your hand tightens in his.
He peeks over at you, slowly chewing, studying the profile of your features, and when you finally turn to meet his gaze, his stuffed smile only widens. You bring the straw of your strawberry matcha over to his lips, letting him have the last sip.
Since he downed his.
Which was funny since you could tell he wasn’t the biggest enthusiast of the green beverage but he’ll try anything three times.
Said it probably stemmed from his old baseball era in high school. 
Mateo finishes it up for you with a wink, like he knows you’re already making a point of his fake hate for the drink in your head.
Your head rests against his shoulder, scooting close as can be.
Doesn’t matter if it’s as hot as a grill outside.
He’s yours.
𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆
𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆
𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆
𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆
𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆
𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆
Making good of the evening, you went to a friend’s that invited you over to her’s and her husband’s house.
Sylvia and Connor Stryker.
Typical brick American foursquare home you’ll find in the suburbs of Pittsburgh. She even said you could bring Luis this time. You probably should have. It would be your third time visiting, the first was with Mateo actually, around Christmas and a couple months after she became a newly wed.
Sylvia wouldn’t stop asking about when you and Mateo would tie the knot as she kept gawking at her own too big of a wedding ring.
Mateo wasn’t exactly sure why you were still friends when he’s seen your other small group of friends that he liked much better. It didn’t take him long to decide that this “friend” of yours was not his cup of his tea. Also made sense why this particular person wasn’t around your main ones majority of the time.
“I’m just gonna go for a hour—maybe two.” You tell Mateo, as you lean in the front doorway.
He stands on the porch, bouncing his keys in his hand, staring out into the neighborhood, dressed and ready to go to work, a exhale escaping his nostrils before he turns to look at you, “Go because you want to not if you’re only going to please her.”
You both had a disagreement about Sylvia before and after that? Mateo never pressed the issue again but it was also evident to you that Mateo didn’t think she was a friend to you like you’ve been to her all these years.
“I want to.”
He stares at you.
You fold your arms.
“Okay,” he answers and moves towards you again, “…just be safe. And let me know when you get home?”
“Kay.”
You respond, holding his conflicting eye contact just before pecking his lips, “Have a great night. I love you, mean it.”
Mateo sends you a slow smile, “I love you back, mean that.”
And you both flow into different tasks of the evening that eventually lead into night.
𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆ 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆ 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎.
Between a brief hug with Sylvia to toe-dipped waters in her updated pool, questionable caviar crostini, a out of sync music playlist that switched back and forth from hard rock to elevator music, lingering around, and too many prying inquiries…you felt that feeling that you always did when you stepped into Sylvia’s world.
Out of place.
Yet you swatted it away like a fruit fly as much as you could.
Chucking the used sprinkler into the trash, you open up your phone to send out a text to Mateo and check out what your friends were up to as soon as they popped up on your feed via socials. They were all out of town, one of your best friends, Hollis, tried to get you to tag along on a road trip with her and her girlfriend, Merritt, who always went out to the Outerbanks where her family resided during holidays if they weren’t visiting their country.
Merritt’s family were loud direct Albanians and always made you feel welcome whenever you did show up with Hollis.
You sent your apologies but Merritt just waved you off in her usual laidback nature, “Don’t sweat it. There’s plenty of more holidays.”
Although this one wasn’t that big of a deal, you do find yourself seeing how everyone else celebrated—even Mateo’s friends and family you followed on Instagram.
Which led to a FaceTime call with Mateo’s (favorite) tipsy older cousin, Valentina, who kept telling you and Mateo to slide on through as if she wasn’t four hours and some change away in Philly.
It’s not until eleven pm that you search the freezer for some raspberry sorbet to scoop out onto a waffle cone.
Something Mateo was big on buying to get the, “full experience,” of ice cream at home since eating out of a bowl or tub was not authentic or whatever he said to excuse buying bulks of hand-made waffle cones from that hole in the wall but tasty ice cream shop, Cloud 9 Cones.
A smile appears on your face as you plop on the couch, holding onto the cone, with The Purge: Anarchy playing on live tv—you just missed Independence Day although you’re sure it’s been rerunning on tv all day.
Luis hops onto the couch beside you, sitting up on his legs, licking his lips as if he’s getting a lick too.
As if you didn’t give him a pupsicle before you freshened up to head out to Sylvia’s.
“Sit.” You pat the couch.
Luis places his paw on your thigh.
“You’re a greedy thing aren’t you,” You tease, “If you sit and watch the movie with me, I’ll consider giving you the last bite.”
The terrier sits with a grunt.
Sleep surprisingly finds you, not long after reading Mateo’s text that says he might be home a hour earlier than usual. Curtesy of Abbot. You laugh at the bit of sarcasm in his message, sending him a fingers crossed emoji before placing your phone on charge.
However much later…
The bed sinks on your left.
Arms loop around you, lightly tugging, before you feel his lips at the back of your neck.
“Hi.” Your eyes instantly open, rolling over to face Mateo.
“Hey baby.”
You pull the covers further up because sleeping with them over your head always brought you comfort but now you make room for two.
Mateo bumps his nose against yours, “How was it?”
Your legs intertwine with his, hair on his legs pricking against yours while you shake your head against the pillow.
“You first.”
Mateo stares at you underneath the covers, trying to gain any idea how your time at Sylvia’s went, how you easily redirected the conversation to wildness at the Pitt, and he wonders if he should push. Yet he doesn’t sense anything entirely wrong.
A few pops hit the air behind this room.
Leftovers of last night still very much present in the brand new day, even underneath the covers.
His hand finds your cheek, thumb running alone the bone before he flops on his back, your own hand moving to rest along his chest, which lifts and beats much stronger than any firework.
“Alright…so there’s this couple, a biker couple—definitely not Gen X like Robby.” Mateo smoothly goes into storytelling despite the breath of laughter you let out, “They had the genius idea to have a pack of lit fireworks strapped to the back of their bike while doing donuts in the middle of the street…”
And you listen.
Intensely.
Not floating upwards like a balloon filled with countless messages you have yet to figure out.
Awake.
A quiet celebration of your own.
Mateo was home.
And for once, your head wasn’t in the puffs.
𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆ 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎. ˖°𓇼⋆ 𖤓 ｡𖦹°‧ ⋆☀︎.
Continue with my summer anthology writings & prompts here.
