Latest Posts by cepsofcordy - Page 2

Rudeness and Racism in the Fandom.

Lately there has been a very disturbing trend in this fandom. Someone or several someones have been spending time going into inboxes with the sole purpose of leaving cruel comments or outright racists statements for creators. 

I don’t understand the level of mean heartedness that it requires to try and insult someone, either for their writing skill/drawing skills, comparing them to other writers/artists, or just being a racists piece of shit to try to drive people of color out of the fandom. 

The energy it take, to actually go into someone’s inbox and craft the message, make sure the anon option is selected and hit send astounds me. Use that energy for something out. Go outside and touch some grass, read a fucking self help book, because you need it. 

What purpose is there for this? To make them feel bad? To crush their souls and make them feel as if they need to stop writing/drawing? Or just leave the fandom all together? 

Comparing creators to one another? “How does it feel to know you aren’t as good as ____?” What??? Why would you do that? There is no reason to pit creators against one another. And where is your writing/art? Where is yours so we can judge it. Or are you one of these people who like to take from this fandom and contribute nothing but hatred and bullshit? 

To bring their ethnicity into it? You know they can’t help what race they were born right? It’s not like we get a choice in what color we are or who our parents are. And there is NOTHING wrong with being born to any culture or ethnicity you narrow-minded twat. 

You are the toxicity that is brining the fandom down if you do this. You are the part that needs to be cut out. You are the one that should be ashamed of who you are as a person because it’s disgusting. 

Let me be very clear: If you do this, UNFOLLOW ME. I DON’T WANT YOU READING MY WORK. I DON’T WANT YOU IN MY PORTION OF THE FANDOM. 

To my creators out there that are receiving this hate and bile:  I am so sorry and I wish that you weren’t receiving these things. Please, I urge you to delete them and even turn off Anon for awhile if you need to. 

the long way around - epilogue

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader Rating: M Word count: 2,930 Notes: We’ve finally made it to the epilogue! I’ve loved the feedback on this fic and I want to thank everyone who’s left a comment on it. I hope you love this concluding part as much as I do! The immersive Van Gogh exhibit is a real exhibit that I highly recommend going to, it’s beautiful. Reblogs appreciated! Warnings: Non-descriptive sexual content, swearing, food mention, feelings 

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the long way around - chapter three

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader Rating: M Word count: 2,564 Notes: This chapter features perhaps the one thing I want most for Marcus besides a happy ending - standing up for himself and saying his piece. Just the epilogue after this! Reblogs appreciated. Warnings: Mutual pining, fluff, food mention, mentions of self-doubt, swearing, kissing

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the long way around - chapter two

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader Rating: M Word count: 3,000 Notes: So, this took a lot longer than I anticipated. Sorry about the almost month-long wait between chapters! This chapter is sort of a roller coaster of sorts but I think a lot gets established in this one. Reblogs appreciated! Warnings: The dinner from hell, mutual pining, awkward situations, kissing, swearing, food mention, alcohol mention

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Can you please reblog if your blog is a safe place for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, asexual, aromantic, pansexual, non binary, demisexual or any other kind of queer or questioning people? Because mine is.

Too little too late (7/?)

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x reader, (ex)Steve Rogers x reader

Plot: Lilly is starting to spend more time with Steve and is starting to act out what happens when she receives news that will change everyone’s lives.

A/n I’m planning on making two drabbles to this part. The first one from Lilly’s pov and the second through Missy’s pov.

Catch up here

My writing

Requests are open

Prompt list one

Prompt list two

Character/Actor list

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why are so many great writers leaving? It makes me sad that so many are leaving and that we cant read their content anymore or even say goodbye :(

tumblr used to be a safe place for so many of us, but recently, with the waves of unnecessary hate and bullying, many writers are discouraged to continue writing and don't feel that spark of happiness they used to feel while logging in.

if you're a content consumer, please support your favorite writers as much as you can; leave comments, reblog with tags or a little something like your favorite quote, leave an ask telling them how good their work was and you're endlessly thankful for the time they put in this... too many writers feel like their efforts go to waste because they think they "don't fit in" (this is what a writer friend of mine told me before deactivating, i'm just using her own words here).

writing is fun, it's a hobby for us. so when it slowly turns into a task, something we have to do instead of something we want to do, this is when many of us decide to leave

A Storm of Surprises

AN: Alright here we go, more of everyone's favorite overprotective merman and mischievous tadpole. I hope you all like this chapter, after everything that has happened this past month I haven't really been confident in my writing and just have been struggling to actually write. But writing this made me happy again, so I hope it makes all of you happy as well. I hope you all have a great weekend and if you like this please consider LIKING/REBLOGGING because it really helps me out! Love you all!

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Merman!Din Djarin x Lighthouse Keeper!Reader

Words: 5k

Summary: Now that Grogu is awake and heeled, Din takes a trip. While he is gone you get a visitor and some news that you did not want.

Warnings: paranoid thoughts, slight description of panicked thoughts, din and reader still pinning after each other and being idiots about their feelings, Grogu is a little shit, Edna is back my dudes, mainly just fluff and worry :)

With Grogu now awake not much had changed. Well, that was kind of a lie. While the little tadpole was cute, he also liked to cause havoc around your living space. It was hard keeping on top of him, and you felt for Din because while Din had to drag around his lower half with only his arms to carry him, his son had tiny feet he could run around on. It was very obvious that Din tried to keep up with the kid, tried to keep him from getting into things, but there really wasn’t much he could do to stop him. The night after he had woken up when you had walked into your kitchen, you had found all of your pots and pans scattered around the floor, all of your lower cabinets wide open, and a very defeated and tired Din laying on his back in the middle of the floor with a content Grogu on his chest nibbling on what looked like your one measuring spoons. You couldn’t hold back the shocked and amused laugh that echoed throughout the kitchen and caused Din to slowly turn his head and look at you apologetically. Still giggling, with a large smile, you walked over next to where Din lay and sat next to him and asked softly, “What in the name of the seven seas happened in here? A mini hurricane?”

Din only flopped his head back with a heavy, remorseful sigh and very tiredly said, “I tried to stop him, but Grogu is more built for land than I am, cyare I am sorry. I will help clean up I promise….. I just need a second first.”

Giggling again, you place a friendly hand on his shoulder, ignoring the tiny shocks of warmth that spread through your hand from the gentle touch. “Rest Din, you have obviously had a much more tiring day than I have.”

“Cyare-”

“Nope, no arguing, or you won’t get to try the cheddar biscuits I am making tonight with the chicken noodle soup,” as you interrupted Din and said this, he turned to with pouting eyes and a heavy sigh. You kept smiling, but when your eyes met his, things seemed to stop for a second, and your chest warmed with the happiness, and no worries you felt at that moment. And even though your entire kitchen was a mess, you were happy and entranced in Din’s warm, soulful brown eyes, and you wished more than anything to just pause and stay in that moment for as long as possible. But much too soon, you were shocked from your trance, when you felt something in your lap, and when you looked down you had found a smiling Grogu, clinking the metal spoons together. You could only grin down at him and give him a hug. And Din watched the two of you with a soft smile and his heart stuttering at just how right it looked for you to be holding Grogu in your arms.

After the incident with the kitchen, Grogu did calm down some and by the time an entire week had passed, you had found that he was fully healed. And while he had healed a lot faster than you thought possible, and even faster than Din had, you brushed it off, just assuming it was part of the reason Din had called him special. Just seeing the kid up and happy was enough, it warmed your heart everytime he shot you his wide grins or hurled himself at you the second you walked into a room. You also often heard Din’s voice chastising Grogu, with what often sounded like telling Grogu he could not follow up to the stairs where you worked.

You did try and find new things for Grogu to do while you worked, things that would keep him occupied until you were done with work and could chase him around. Through a bit of trial and error you did find that the little tadpole loved coloring, and after the first time giving him a stack of paper and a box of crayons you were surprised to walk down and find both Din and Grogu hunched over a sheet of paper coloring. Your heart almost exploded from how cute the sight had been. Though you did learn that pens and colored pencils were a bit safer to give Grogu because he tended to eat any crayon he had touched much to your displeasure.

Grogu also became overly attached to a small stuffed bear you had. It was one that you had since you were a baby and it was one thing you could never part with, but seeing the child curled up with it fast asleep on his father’s chest one night in the kitchen made you realize that you wouldn’t mind giving, or well sharing, it with the toddler. He often carried it around, and even thorough he was upset when you explained it to him, he never brought it into the water with him at night but would set it up on the chair you had pulled into there for yourself to sit. The kid had stolen your heart in a mear matter of a week and you knew you would do anything for the little one.

Which leads you to your current predicament. After you had gone to town last week you were getting more and more paranoid over what Empire Labs were doing. You knew that the boys were safe here as long as they were hidden inside of the stone and concrete walls of your lonely tower, but you were not naive enough to believe that the Labs would not go to any lengths to get into your home and search it. They had done it before, the company was nothing but bad news and they had taken out the only good company that had been forcefully pushing back on their terror of local wildlife, Alderaan Sunrises. Empire Labs might have well as shot the company with a large laser with how they decimated the company with lies that couldn’t be proven to be false, how they had targeted the heads of the company specifically, going after the Organa family until it was only the daughter left fighting back, even after the company had fallen. You personally still thought how Bail and Breha Organa had fallen ill was too convenient for Empire Labs to be a coincidence.

So if someone as strong, and prolific as the Organa family could be shot down, who were you to fight back. You worried and stressed over several different scenarios, each becoming more and more extreme and unrealistic, but the ‘what ifs’ would not leave your thoughts as you grew more attached to the little green terror and his caring and overprotective father. You tried to hide your worries, tried pushing them to the back of your mind as you worked, tried to plaster on smiles to keep Din at ease, but you were never good at hiding your worries. So one night, as the three of you sat in a circle on the kitchen floor, you and Din eating your dinner and as Grogu munching lazily on a chunk of garlic bread while babbling animatedly to the little bear stuff while rolling his tiny bath ball toy around, Din watched you, more intensely than normal before finally speaking up and grabbing your attention, “Cyare, tomorrow… tomorrow, would you take me to the coast?”

You jerked your head up in a panic, thoughts racing. Din wanted to leave, but you both had agreed that staying at the lighthouse would be safe until things calmed down, and things were very much not calmed down. In your panic the noodles you had just taken a bite of lost all taste and your mouth went dry as you swallowed them, as you turned your head to look back down at your plate, unable to make eye contact with his soft eyes while your heart screamed in your chest.

“Is there a reason you want to go?... I just... I don’t want to stop you, but are you sure it’s safe to leave,” you finally spoke up, still not making eye contact as you push your food around, shocked that your voice did come out steadier than you had thought it would. You heard Din clear his throat, and could see Grogu go running for his ball as it had rolled away from him and towards the bathroom, then you heard Din rumble quietly, “I just need to go do a few things, check on something. I promise I won’t be gone long, I promise cyare.”

You take a deep breath and set your fork down before looking up at him, and gave him a small smile, “Well, as long as you stay safe I don’t see why I should keep you.”

Obviously, that is what Din was hoping you would say because his face broke out into a smile, one just wide enough to tease the dimple he had and crinkle the lines by his eyes. Then, to lighten the mood he teased, saying, “I promise I won’t leave Grogu alone with you for too long, with Posiden’s luck he won’t drive you too crazy.”

That had you laughing and feeling a little better, knowing that if Din was going to leave the small child behind, he most definitely would not be gone long at all. So, instead, you smiled back at him, this one coming a bit easier, and some of the tightness loosening in your chest as you replied, “Well I guess tomorrow I will get to show him what I do all day upstairs. I know he has been dying to follow me up there.”

Din gave a bit of a pained smile and replied, “He will really enjoy that, but keep a close eye on him.”

“I will I promise, tomorrow I shouldn’t have much to do, so it’ll be more of just a tour.”

Din nodded with the small reassurance. After your chat, the rest of the night went smoothly, Grogu even going to sleep much quicker than usual, and after Din got settled in the tub and after you both said your goodnights you linger by the bathroom door for a minute longer than usual, taking in the sight of the father and son curled up in your bathtub and the warm brown eyes watching you leave.

In the morning you were awoken by Grogu crawling into your bed as you could hear Din’s frantic whisper yells for him to ‘get back here’ and ‘leave them alone’. You just smiled sleepily and gave Grogu a soft kiss on the forehead before whispering good morning to him. The child just giggled and bumped his forehead against yours, the same way he did with his father, before wiggling from your grasp. Getting the hint, you rolled out of your bed and scooped Grogu up in your arms. As you turned around, you found an exasperated Din, leaning against your doorway.

“I tried to stop him, but when I told him he was staying with you today, he just took off.”

You laughed and walked over to Din, smiling and saying, “It’s okay, I needed to be getting up anyway. But I am glad he’s so excited to spend time with me.”

Din smiled at you as you walked by him headed towards the kitchen, before slowly turning and following you. You made a simple breakfast, holding Grogu on your hip the entire time as he munched on a blueberry pop-tart. As you cooked and ate you talked with Din, and when the two of you were finally finished you solemnly looked up at him, biting your lip for a second before saying, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Din nodded and straightened his back, trying to come off as confident as he said, “Yes, I am very sure, cyar’ika… and I promise I will be back before you even notice I have been gone.”

You sighed and looked into his eyes and the only thing you could think was, but I already miss you, but you shook your head and instead said, “Okay then, let’s get you to the water.”

Getting Din into the car and down to the flat rock was a lot easier than it had been that first night, and you thanked the gods for that, but at the same time, it hurt that he was leaving quicker than you had thought. You stood by as Din said goodbye to Grogu, bumping their foreheads together as they often did before Din handed the child to you. Only, once you had the child secured in your arms, Din grabbed onto your hand pulling on it until you met his gaze, it was nothing but earnest and soft as he pressed your hand to his forehead as well and said, “I will be back, I promise. Do not worry about me.”

Shaking your head, trying to hide the worry tears building in your visor, you smiled down at him and said, “I cannot make any promises,” Din gave a small huff as the corners of his mouth turned up, before he started lowering himself into the water, but then you stopped him, by calling out his name and saying, “Oh, before you go...it’s been driving me nuts, but your nicknames you’ve been calling me, what...what do they mean?”

Din only met your gaze, giving you a smile wide enough that you could see his dimple fully, an urge to press your lips against it filling you and shocking you so much you give a tiny gasp that Din did not notice, or did not acknowledge as he only said, “I will tell you when I return,” and then he was gone, having slipped underneath the water before you could even call after him. Grogu and you stayed there for a second, watching the water, before you took a deep breath and smiled down at the child and said, “Alright, ready to go see what I do all day?”

The kid only faltered for a second, continuing to watch the waves as they lapped at the rocks, the water quite calm today before he looks up at you and cooed as he grabbed your nose. Deciding to leave the car where it was, because it wasn’t really that long of a walk, the two you made it back to the lighthouse is only a few minutes. The entire time you were talking about all the things you do and what all instruments you used, trying to both distract Grogu and yourself from Din’s glaringly obvious absence.

Grogu loved when you climbed the stairs, halfway up wanting to be set down so he could climb them himself. His eagerness only made you smile, and when the two of you reached the top you cheered and told him he did so good as he looked up at you with glee. As you showed him around, pointing at and explaining all the different things you used, you were very pleasantly surprised that Grogu was very respectful and made sure not to touch anything, and only doing so when you told him he could. The only real-time he got ‘fussy’ was when he wanted you to pick him up so he could look at something closer, but overall he behaved himself so well that you were honestly surprised.

Walking around the instruments and explaining things had taken roughly half an hour, but with the added fifteen minutes it took for the two of you to slowly climb the stairs, it was nearing an hour since Din left, when you shower Grogu your favorite place to be while you worked. You made sure to pick him up and hold him close as you both stepped outside of the glass-enclosed lightbulb, Grogu’s eyes widening with a giant smile as he took in the horizon and the miles of ocean he could see from this height. You slowly walked around the full circle, pausing in spots to point out things that had caught your eye when you had been up there in the past, and pausing when Grogu pointed out at things you did not really recognize or notice but smiling and ‘conversing’ with him as he babbled excitedly. Then you made sure and took the time to show him how to use your binoculars, which he excitedly took and had you do several more laps around so he could look at everything possible.

But you were startled out of your content revelry, when you saw a car approaching the lighthouse, your heart doing a little pitter-patter in your chest as you told Grogu that it was time to go back downstairs. Panicking the entire way down, Grogu only kept smiling and babbling, reaching out and touching your cheek several times, as if he was trying to communicate with you, but you just weren’t understanding. When you were both finally, downstairs you were chewing on your lip thinking of where to hide Grogu, when the knock at your door echoed throughout the lower floor. Your breathing started speeding up, your mind racing, was it Empire Labs, were they here because they knew it was only you and Grogu, how was Din going to react when he came back and found that you weren’t able to protect his son and Grogu had been taken, was he going to hate you, if Din started hating you wouldn’t able to handle it, seeing a his eye turn cold on you would break you,r heart, you were just starting to fall for-

“Hun, you better open this door for this old woman, this pot is both heavy and hot and I am too old to be standing in this cold.”

You almost cried in relief when you heard Edna’s voice echo through your home. You quickly walked over and opened the door enough so that only half of you was showing, Grogu safely hidden behind the door, and you smiled at her and as you opened your mouth to say something, you were interrupted by Edna sliding through the door with a shiver and a large pot in her hands. “Didn’t see you at the market this week, so I brought you a few things, and even made you a nice meal, something my old friend loved and asked for repeatedly.”

Grogu looked up at you amused as the old woman weaseled her way into the kitchen placing the pot on your stove before turning and looking at your shocked form. “Oh, and I can’t stay long, but I made Marnie from the diner drive me because, well I sure as hell wasn’t gonna walk out here. You wait here with the little one and I will go get the bags for you.”

And she was gone just as quickly as she had entered, your mouth still opens from your attempts to reply. Your heart was slowly slowing down from the panic her unexpected visit had caused, but also you couldn’t help but smile as she rushed back in with several bags, more than even you usually return with, and she set them on the floor in front of the fridge. “Well darling, I am not gonna lie, I got you a little of everything and not only because I didn’t know what you would want,” Edna made direct eye contact with you, her eyes dark with worry, “Hun, I need you to stay here for the coming weeks. The Labs seem to have taken an interest in the town, and I believe specifically you. Those two dumbasses have been snooping around every nook and cranny the town has, and I worry for you and your friend….Speaking of which, I know for sure that is not him, his pet?”

You numbly shook your head and quickly whispered, “His son, the-”

“Nope, don’t tell me more, the more information I know the more difficult it will be to protect you. Is your friend here,” you shook your head, and Edna placed her hands on her hips sighing, “Well when he gets back don’t let him leave again. I have no doubt he will be back soon, their kind seems to have nine lives like cats, hard to kill they are, thank the maker. But don’t let him out of your sight, neither of them and if the Labs show up here, don’t let them in unless they have a warrant. It’ll buy you time to hide them away. Now I gotta go before Marnie gets impatient. If you need anything, I wrote my number on the back of the receipt, don’t hesitate to call!”

Then, in a whirlwind, Edna was gone, leaving with only a pat on Grogu’s head and a kiss on your cheek as she swept through the door. You were sure how long you stood there shell-shocked and going over everything Edna had told you. Empire Labs was sticking around town, this was only going to spell bad luck for you and your guests. Not only that, with them sticking around, and Din right now, you could only feel the worry start to creep back into your chest, but all trains of thought were thrown out when Grogu reached up and patted your cheek, before wiggling to be set down. So you sighed setting him down, and giving him a forced smile as you ran and grabbed some paper and colored pencils for him.

As Grogu colored, you put away everything Edna had brought, sighing heavily as you noticed just how overboard she had gone with everything. After placing the last box of dried noodles in your cabinet you felt Grogu tug on your pants and point to the door excitedly. Following his lead, and picking him up, you peeked outside the door and saw Din heaving himself onto the flat rock before turning back to the water to pull something else up.

You smiled widely at Grogu and said, “Come on, let’s go get your dad inside and then have some dinner, yeah?”

Excited, Grogu nodded and the two of you made your way down to where Din was sorting through a bag, one that seemed to be crafted from seaweed. When the two of you finally made it to Din, he smiled up at you, clearly feeling happy and proud over whatever he had brought back, but his excitement slowly tempted down when he saw your tense closed-lipped smile.

“What’s wrong, cyare?”

“I will tell you while I cook dinner….is, is the bag coming with us,” you said softly, trying to ease his worries some by softening your voice. Din looked at you for a second before nodding. You set Grogu on the ground, letting him run to his father, while you grabbed the bag and the two of them talked. You weren’t going to lie, the bag was heavy, and it smelled of fish, and you mourned for your trunk but you refused to leave it behind, especially if it had been important enough for Din to go and get it.

Once it was loaded though, you turned to find Din and Grogu waiting to be loaded into the car, so you helped them before pulling away from the shore and taking the few second drives to get Din as close to the door as possible. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time, and the tension seemed so thick and if you were honest, the range of emotions you had gone through today had made you exhausted, but you were trying to put on a face so you wouldn’t worry Din, knowing he was going to fly into protective mode the second you explained today’s events.

After pulling the two in and dragging Din’s bag into the corner of the kitchen he had asked you to, you silently went to work on dinner for the three of you as you listened to Dinpull things from his bag and whisper to Grogu as the child babbled on to him. You made a simple dinner, too tired to really try, so you really only made some boxed mac’n cheese, something you knew Grogu loved when you made it in the past.

You were completely shocked when you turned around though, finding Din with Grogu on his lap surrounded by a number of fish and a pile of things next to him. “What...what is all of this?”

“Well, cyare, you have been providing for us since we got here, so I went hunting so that I could return the favor….”

You just huffed out a shocked laugh before sliding to the floor. Din worriedly watched you taking in your reaction before you genuinely smiled at him and said, “Din, I….I don’t know what to say. This is amazing, thank you,” you laughed before you continued, “Gods, I only hope I have the freezer space for all of this.”

Din beamed at you proudly, and you quickly made plates of food for both him and Grogu, while you went about getting all of the fish, which Din had already cleaned and made ready for you, into your freezer. Miraculously each of the fish fit, but nothing else was going to be able to be added to your Tetris level of stacking. When you finished, you made your plate before slowly sinking against the floor beside Din. Din had already finished his plate, and Grogu had gotten halfway through his own before he had fallen asleep in his father’s arms.

You took your first few bites slowly, then you looked at Din with a sigh and said, “Well do you want the good news, the bad news, or do you just want a play-by-play of what happened today?”

“Just start from when I left.”

You nodded and took a few more bites before starting in. You told him about Grogu and how good he was for you all morning and pretty much all day. How excited and heartwarmingly cute he was as you showed him around your workspace. You told Din about how much he loved being at the top of the tower, watching the water, and using your binoculars. Then you sighed and told him about Edna, and what she had brought with her, both the news and the gifts, even reminding yourself that she had brought a pot of food that you had previously forgotten. Then you looked him in the eye, taking in how he was soaking in every word you were giving him before you spoke again. “Din…. Edna said that Empire Labs have continued poking around town, she thinks they are looking for you and Grogu… she said that we all need to just stay at the lighthouse until everything clears… until they leave. So, no more trips, I… I don’t want to risk it again with how close they are.”

Din nodded, not saying anything but laying his hand on top of yours where it sat on the floor, trying to be reassuring. Then he said, “Is there anything else, cyar’ika?”

You nodded and looked up into his eyes, giving him a determined look, “Yes… Din, if they come looking here, if they try and poke around, I promise I will do everything I can, everything in my power to protect both you and Grogu….”

Din searched your eyes, his jaw twitching slightly, then he said, “I know you will, but… I need you to promise me if it comes down to it, you will protect yourself. I will not have you getting harmed because of me.”

“I cannot make any promises,” you parroted your words from earlier with a smile, and Din only sighed before pushing the small pile of things he had beside him towards you with a soft pink glow on the tips of his ears and cheeks. “These are also for you, cyare.”

Grinning, you looked down. This pile was much small and seemed to honestly be just an assortment of, well everything. You found a few shells, the inside gleaming with mother of pearl, there was a bottle the top secured by a cork but it was filled with water looked like different colored sea glass and marbles, there was a necklace with a silver chain and what you believed to be a labradorite pendant shaped to look like a crescent moon, a ring that had a green stone inlaid in the soft gold medal, and lastly, a closed clamshell that Din slowly picked up and pried open carefully only to pull out the prettiest pearl, one roughly the size of a marble. You looked up at Din meeting his gaze, his eyes soft and search, expressing an emotion that neither of you quite knew what to call.

“Din… these are all amazing, I love them all, but… are you sure you want me to have them?”

Din slowly reached for the necklace, struggling to clasp it on your neck for a few seconds, before he got it and sliding the ring onto your right pointer finger, honestly surprising you with how easily it fit, before he said, “There is no one else, on land or in the seas, that I would want to have these. You have shown me and my son great kindnesses, and continue to do so at your own expense, these are my way of showing my appreciation.”

You smiled at him, looking up and noticing Din had still yet to move back, his face so close you could feel his soft breaths, and you said, “Thank you, I will treasure these for the rest of my life.”

Din grinned and then pressed his forehead to your own staying there only for a second, before pulling back and saying, “You should head to bed, cyare, you have had a long day.”

You nodded and reluctantly pulled away from him and stood up. You collected your gifts and asked if he needed help getting to the bathroom, but he just told you to go. Nodding, you left, going into your room and delicately setting the gifts along the small desk you had before changing into your pajamas and climbing into bed. It didn’t take you long to get comfortable and didn’t take you long to start to fall asleep. But the last thing that ran through your head before you let sleep overcome you was, That shit head didn’t tell me what cyare or cyar’ika meant.

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Wait For It | Frankie “Catfish” Morales

Synopsis: Temporary friendship, turning to permanent love. Frankie Morales is your whole heart, your mind, body and soul - but he doesn’t know it yet. 

Warnings: Fluff central, all cutesy shit. Language.

Rating: PG

Author’s Note: Thank you to my gorgeous amor @heythere-mel​​ for this beauty! Happy birthday mi diosa! Prepare to cry!

Word Count: 2.9K​

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Frankie’s Barber Shop

Summary: After his time in service, Frankie relies on routine–but you arrive to shake things up.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: PG (minor language and suggestive thoughts)

Tags: FLUFF, reader washes/cuts Frankie’s hair and beard, meet-cute, Frankie is an anxious boi but he’s trying, this is pure tooth rotting fluff and an ode to Frankie’s hair

Notes: Every day when I drive from work I pass ‘Frankie’s Barber Shop’ and wish it was Frankie Morales’ (but we all know he’d call his like, 'Catfish Cuts’ or something)

I picture Frankie a bit younger here, done with the military but before the events of TF!

For my non-US readers, Great Clips is a chain of discount hairdressers!

Frankie Morales is a simple man; a man of routine. He puts his shoes on right-then-left, even when it means he has to teeter precariously on his bad knee. He brushes his teeth for exactly 2 minutes, as timed on the toothbrush. He wears the same grey t-shirt and jeans combo that has followed him since high school. So when he left Great Clips with a particularly bad $7.99 haircut, buzzed uneven and patchy to the point that the guys ribbed him for it for weeks, he dreadfully set to Google to find a new place.

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Rb if you pinky promise not to join Tumblr+ and won’t hide your content behind a paywall

POST PLUS IS COMING, WHETHER YOU WANT IT OR NOT!

Despite the fancy survey, changes to the UI and TOS reveal we’re getting the service in the future whether we want it or not. Obviously, Post+ is a terrible idea that is trying to bank revenue on user content. Unlike patreon or onlyfans, tumblr’s primary focus is on FAN content. The legality of this is NOT in the users favor and as the new tumblr TOS states, said users will be entirely liable for whatever legal matters arise.

SO WHAT ARE WE DOING?

Besides filling out the survey, it’s time to show tumblr we mean business and show our displeasure by hitting them where it hurts.

Ad revenue.

We’re proposing a 24 hour log off as phase one of this protest.

WHEN IS THE PROTEST?

AUGUST 6th, 2021        12 am Eastern Time (US)          5 am Greenwich Mean Time          6 am Central European Time          8 am Moscow Standard Time          1 pm Australian Western Time          2 pm Japan Standard Time          3:30 pm Australian Central Time          4 pm Australian Eastern Time

AUGUST 5th, 2021

11 pm Central Time (US)          10 pm Mountain Time (US)            9 pm Pacific Time (US)

THE END TIME IS 24 HOURS FROM START TIME!!!

So no posting, no queues, no likes, and no reblogs!

WHAT IF I CAN’T/WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?

Like this post and share it AS MANY TIMES AS POSSIBLE. Use the hashtags #tumblrlogoff2021 or #postplusprotest on ANY and ALL social media.

WILL THIS WORK?

Maybe, maybe not. It’s an attempt at doing SOMETHING.

BECAUSE I’M A TIRED IDIOT, USE THIS TO DOUBLE CHECK YOUR TIME ZONE!!!!

timeanddate.com

Event Time Announcer - Log off protest 2021

Event Time Announcer shows time for Log off protest 2021 in locations all over the world. In New York it happens on Friday, August 6, 2021 a

JAVIER PEÑA’S HOTTEST MOMENTS

38. 53/139 votes → Javi wearing a plaid shirt in The Kingpin Strategy

#SOSCuba is trending on Twitter and I figure it’s only a matter of time before it ends up here so friendly reminder that if you’re NOT Cuban and especially if you ARE American if your idea on how to “help Cuba” doesn’t begin and end with calling for the end of the US blockade on Cuba that literally every country in the world supports ending except for the United States and Isr*el which is preventing Cuba from distributing its five homemade COVID vaccines and other lifesaving medicines to its own people you have worms for brains and couldn’t give less of a shit about the Cuban people

"What's for Din-ner??" inspired by food and Star Wars (FOOD WARS!) in children's book style! Don't take too seriously, this was just a fun and silly side project, hahaha-

When I get hungry, my brain starts making all the food puns, so apologies in advance if you feel the need to facepalm. xD Had so much fun with this! I put in a lot of my favorite foods, so the puns are quite biased, haha-- What alternative food puns can y'all think of?

Old Guys Rule

Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Summary: With a birthday coming up, Frankie's insecurities about the age gap in your relationship start to get the better of him

Warnings: legal age gap relationship, insecurities about said age gap, mentions of children but no mentions of how they came to be in the relationship

I found this hat in a shop in Cornwall and I had to write this!

"Are you wanting to do anything on your birthday? I was thinking about booking a table down at that Italians you like and asking your Mom to watch the girls but if you have plans with the guys I can find a different day?" you looked over your shoulder at Frankie from where you had been scrolling through the booking page of the restaurant.

"Hmm? No, dinner sounds fine," Frankie answered, his head not lifting up from his phone as his face stayed firmly unbothered.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to..." you trailed off as you turned back to the laptop that was resting on the kitchen counter, not convinced by Frankie's response.

"What?" you could tell that his head had whipped up to look at yours now you had turned around, "No, dinner sounds good, yes. Thank you."

You didn't answer, instead scrolling up and down on the page for a minute as you tried not to take his response too personally. It had been a while since you and Frankie were able to go out for dinner just the two of you, finding it more difficult to get some alone time since the new baby came along and you now had the two girls, so you thought he would like the idea of a romantic dinner alone.

You could hear Frankie's footsteps pad across the kitchen floor until he was leaning against the counter next to you. Avoiding his gaze as he crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking the way his ankles were now crossed over one another, you filled in the booking information before closing the laptop. Without looking at him you turned in the chair to stand but Frankie's hand fell on your wrist stopping you.

"Hey," his voice was soft, "I do want to go out for dinner with you and thank you for booking the place that I like, I just-." Frankie sighed and let you wrist go before dragging his hand down his face as he let his eyes drop to the floor, "I'm just not looking forward to this birthday. I'm in my late forties now!"

"I think you're still mid-forties."

"So much better," he rolled his eyes.

"So you're not looking forward to your birthday because... you're going to be a year older? Forty-six years and thats you just realising how birthdays work?"

"It's not funny."

"I'm not laughing, I'm wondering why that's upsetting you. Whether or not you're looking forward to it you can't stop it."

"You'll make fun of me if I tell you why," his foot was swinging out in front of him before crossing it back over the other again.

"Maybe, but we've been married for six years so I think I'm allowed to make fun of you."

A smile was tugging at the corner of Frankie's lips when he finally looked up to you, his head leaning slightly to the side as he met your eyes. Frankie loved everything about you but he especially loved how relaxed you made him feel. Even though he wasn't in a good mood when you started talking birthday plans, instead of giving in to it you pulled him back from it. You had done it ever since you met him. Frankie could tell you, and has told you, his deepest, darkest secrets and fears and you don't shy away. You don't pull him further into the darkness; you just listen and make him feel comfortable until you help him out the other side.

"I know there isn't a bigger gap between us now that there had been when we first started dating because thats not possible but it just feels bigger now? Like, you're still able to keep up with Sofia when she runs rings around us even after you've been up all night with the baby. You don't have to hold the menu back to read it more clearly when we got out for dinner. You don't have to think about having a sore back for a week if we fall asleep on the couch when watching a movie. You don't even fall asleep when watching movies at eight at night but somehow I do!"

You let his breathing settle a little before you pulled him to stand between your legs, resting your hands on his chest.

"Is it about all these small things or is there something bigger to it?"

You tilted your head to catch his gaze as Frankie's eyes fell to the floor again, stopping him with two fingers under his chin and lifting his eyes to meet yours.

"I just worry that you don't want to be with an old guy like me," he sighed, his hands resting on your thighs.

"I'll have you know that I love that your an old guy. I fall more in love with you every day as you get older. I love that you run around enough with Sofia until you're tired because you don't want to stop. I think you're cute when you have to squint at the menu because you're too stubborn to get glasses, even though I think you would look very handsome in them. And I like giving you back massages when it gets sore because its just an excuse to get my hands on your very sexy, super hot, handsome DILF self."

Frankie barked a laugh, his forehead falling against yours as his hands reached up to cup your face.

"I love you so much, you know that."

"I do, and I love you."

His lips found yours, pressing a soft kiss to them. Just as his mouth opened to push his tongue into yours the sound of tiny footsteps running into the kitchen pulled you both away.

"Mama, Papa!" the voice cheered as Frankie leaned down to swing Sofia up, groaning as he did so.

None of what you had said to Frankie was a lie. You truly did love him more and more every day.

As time went on it had been kind to Frankie. He had fought off his demons for the most part, nightmares only sneaking in every so often, and it showed. He carried a lightness with him, not being weighed down by his past anymore. His eyes crinkle at the side when he smiles, which he does more now than ever. His face has filled out a little more in a healthy way. His jaw is also covered in a patchy beard that now has spots of grey that you love the most even if Frankie doesn't believe you.

❀❀❀

You let Frankie lie in on the morning of his birthday, getting the girls up and ready so you could have a lazy breakfast together before you dropped them at their Gran's while you and Frankie go out for dinner. After sorting out a breakfast, having to start again after Sofia wanted to help and ended up spilling the batter over the countertop instead of in the pan, you carried it upstairs with the girls in tow.

Frankie was already waking up as you opened the door, his face lighting up with a wide grin when he spotted you balancing the baby in one arm and carefully carrying the tray in the other as Sofia carried bags of birthday presents.

"Happy birthday," you and Sofia chimed with a small gurgle coming from your side.

"My beautiful girls, thank you!"

Frankie lifted Sofia onto the bed with the presents, settling her into his side, before taking the tray of pancakes from your hands. Once it was safe on his lap he lifted his head, catching your lips in a kiss, before you sat across from him.

You managed to get through breakfast before Sofia had spoke about opening the presents again and once the tray was placed on the bedside table you got to opening the gifts. With baby girl back asleep and placed on Frankie's chest, Sofia pulled the paper off them more so than Frankie, handing him the opened presents as he thanked you all. Once all the presents that were on the bed were opened you leaned across and pulled another from your bedside.

"One more," you smiled knowingly and Frankie narrowed his eyes at you as you handed him the small bag.

He snaked his arm from around Sofia, holding baby girl close to his chest as he put his hand inside the bag and pulled out a hat.

"Oh a new hat, thanks babe I love-" he stopped when he read the front, looking at you with a grin on his face.

"What does it say?!" Sofia asked, pushing her head in front of her Dad's to see the cap he was holding.

"It says Old Guys Rule!" you exclaimed.

"Because Dad is old," Sofia flung her head back in a fake laugh that bellowed around the room.

"Is that right?" Frankie tickled her sides until she was giggling for real and her head was lying next to her sleeping sister's on Frankie's chest.

"Dad is old, but he's still cool isn't he?" you reached across and pulled Sofia onto your lap as she nodded.

"How does it look?" Frankie pulled it onto his head, a little wonky as he was only working with one hand with the other resting on the tiny body on his chest.

You and Sofia both put your thumbs up and you laughed.

"Four out of four thumbs up!"

"Thanks babe," he chuckled, lifting his hand to settle the cap a little tighter on his head.

"You're welcome, you look even more handsome today. Forty-six suits you," you winked and he smiled.

Yes, Frankie was getting older but he was becoming happier and healthier and you were falling more in love with him every single day.

//

Permanent tag// @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes @dihra-vesa @queridopascal @sfr99 @rosiefridayrogersunday

pajarito || javier peña x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: After a botched raid, you and Javi both need a cigarette. Sitting together on the sidewalk outside the embassy, you find out you both need each other too.

Pairings: Javier Peña x DEA Agent!Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, friends to lovers | Word Count: 3k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, ptsd, smoking 

A/N: Somebody called for “local gruff DEA agent is secretly a softie with the girl he loves” with a side of angsty love confession? This one’s for you! ♡

“Javi. Cigarette.”

He cast you a sidelong glance as you sat next to him on the edge of the sidewalk, his gaze lingering only a moment before he reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a pack of smokes. He handed you one, flicked his lighter on for you, and frowned at you.

“What?” you said around a drag. The nicotine immediately flooded your system, quieting some of the shaking in your hands that you were trying very hard to hide.

He shook his head. “Since when do you smoke?”

You held the cigarette between two fingers and pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes, warding off a headache.

“You’ve only known me for a few months, Javi,” you said. You’d started at the embassy a little over six months ago, put on Javi and Steve’s intelligence team by Ambassador Noonan. Though you stayed in the office at the embassy most of the time, you’d gotten to know both men very well. Perhaps too well, in Javi’s case.

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ghosts

—CHAPTER FOUR: sour guilty sickness

pairing: Javier Peña x f! reader

previous part | next part | masterlist

a/n: well it took a while but here she is ! things are turning a bit of a brighter corner here but don’t worry, the angst will be back soon enough !! thanks for waiting yall, I’m so glad to finally get this out !! hope you enjoy !!

The version of him that you photographed was the man he wished he could be.

Unburdened. Happy. In love.

That man, that version of him, didn’t exist. Not really. Not for any longer than it took you to take the photo in the first place.

Reality was darker. Blurrier. Emptier.

The man in the photos was never suffocated in darkness or stalked in shadows, yet he spent his days drowning in the deepest depths of humanity’s darkest days. The water was at his head, every breath was a fight, and there never seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel. Another day, another massacre. Another mission, another mistake, another man who didn’t get to go home, another family left with a hole that no rousing speech, commendation, or memorial could ever fill.

The man in the photos was never out of focus, yet Javier couldn’t remember a time when things had been clear, when the line between good and bad wasn’t an indiscernible mess he had no chance in hell of ever making sense of. There was blood everywhere he looked, it stained his hands and everything he touched, he could scrub for hours and he still felt wrong holding you close. The horrors he witnessed, the horrors he executed, all of it lined the uneven, narrow passageway that separated the good from the bad. It was grey, blurry and messy. Not sharp edges, no clean cuts.

And the man in the photo was never alone. That just wasn’t fair, because all Javier ever felt was alone.

The photos always captured him as a man of the world around him: gently examining tomatoes on your instruction as the two of you moved through the market overflowing with life, laughing shoulder to shoulder with Murphy in the packed booth of a bar with his fingers cradling the neck of his beer, holding your hand or touching you someway even if you were out of frame. The photos painted him as a man who was never alone, but he was, he was so painfully alone. In the darkness surrounding him, in the blurred alley that existed between the lines, even in bed as you slept beside him, he was alone, trapped in the horrors that haunted his lonely mind.

There were moments when he could forget, moments where the hot press of your mouth along the length of his neck lit a fire of warmth in his chest and kept him on fire for hours while his hands clung to your skin, moments where the soft hold of your hand found his, your linked grips swinging between the two of you as you walked through the humming streets as the golden glow of the setting sun settled over the two of you, moments where the two of you felt like the only two people in the world and he could never imagine ever being without you. There were moments, plenty of them, but it was never enough.

He felt empty in a way your photos could never capture, alone in a way he never shared with you. In a way he never shared with anyone.

The man you photographed was the man he wanted to be. The man you photographed was the man you deserved.

Waking up to that man staring back at him was plainly mocking and exactly what he deserved.

The photo had slipped from the mess of photographs stacked in your lap and found itself a place to rest against the flat of the bed between where you sat up, already awake, and where his head rested on the edge of his pillow as the morning finally woke him. It was a photo of him, unburdened, happy, and in love.

As aged as it felt, he knew it had only been a few months ago. A Sunday. A simple Sunday.

He had lost you in the street, or at least, he thought he had. Not intentionally, but in the excitement of the crowds pouring out of every church that lined the streets of the neighborhood, it was relatively easy to do. His attention was pulled one way and yours the other. A small cart of flowers had been his hook, catching him out of the crowd and reeling him over. Buckets and buckets of beautiful flowers bunched together in bountiful bouquets, the aroma itself could have kept him there for hours.

“For someone special?” The older woman sitting beside the cart asked, her accent thick, as soon as she spotted his interest and he had no chance in hell of hiding his smitten smirk, even as he replied with a short nod of his head. “A beautiful girl?”

“The most beautiful.” He conceded.

She gestured towards a particularly large bundle but he shook his head, pointing to a different collection, smaller but no less beautiful.

“Ah… simple, good choice.”

He handed over a few folded bills and she nodded graciously, wishing him luck as he pulled the bouquet from the cart.

For just a second, maybe even less than that, he lingered. He brought the flowers to his nose and took in a deep breath of beauty, the same smitten smile still sitting on his lips as he gave one last nod to the woman and moved back into the crowd. He hadn’t seen you through the crowd, just a few yards away, capturing the moment. You had caught back up with him seconds later, intertwining the fingers of one hand with his and accepting the flowers with the other, a surging smile stuck on your face as the two of you continued your walk.

It was a good picture of him. Not of Javier, but of the man he wanted to be. Unburdened. Happy. In love.

If only he could be. If only it were that simple.

You turned as you heard him rustling in the sheets beside you, a soft smile sitting on your lips as you watched him pick up the picture and admire it for a minute. “Good morning.”

“‘Morning baby…” He hummed back, returning the photo to your lap.

There were at least twenty photos there, a couple of him, a few of Connie and Steve, both separate and together, and a couple duplicates of photos you had taken for work, streets lined with people, small cultural centers and jaw-dropping landscapes of the gorgeous Colombian nature. This wasn’t exactly a regular routine of yours, but every month or so, you’d assemble a collection of your favorites and find a place for them among the pages of your worn leather journal. Your private worn leather journal.

That wasn’t to say he never saw inside it, but it was yours to let him see. If you weren’t there to open it, it was never opened, no matter how overwhelming the affliction of curiosity could be sometimes when you left it out on the counter, he knew better.

There were six or seven of them in total, but the oldest ones typically stayed tucked away. This was the one you had kept for as long as he had known you though, your affectionately termed Colombia edition. In between the photos and their detailed descriptions scrawled beneath in your unique script, you filled the journal with general descriptions of your life, of the culture around you, and everything you’re feeling. Part of him has always wondered what you had written about him, a separate part of him, the part that always won out, never wanted to know.

“You slept in…” your words trailed off once your stare moved back to the selection of slices of your life in your lap. “You haven’t done that in a while…”

“Yeah.” He huffed, rolling onto his back as he rubbed the last of the sleep from his eyes. Lulling to the side, his head turned and his eyes stayed on you, admiring every inch of your profile as you worked.

Your smile stayed soft. Gentle. Miraculous. “That’s good…”

You deserved better than him. You deserved the man in the photos and he wasn’t that.

He needed to talk to you, to tell you why life had been hell for the two of you for the past few months, to tell you why he was keeping you up at night tossing and turning, terrified of his own mind. There were things he didn’t know how to talk about, things he didn’t know how to tell you, but that just wasn’t fair. He loved you and that meant something. Day after day, you begged him to talk to you, and he owed you that. He owed you more than the fear of losing you.

He just wasn’t ready yet.

Rolling back over, he positioned his head by your lap, laying a gentle kiss to the skin of your thigh. “How long have you been up?”

“Just about an hour or two,” you bit the end of your pen cap off to write something on the back of a photo of Connie in her scrubs getting back from work, and continued on, your words garbled by the cap between your teeth. “Whenever the sun came up.”

By this time on any other day, you’d already be out, either exploring every corner of the city or out as far as the soldiers would let you get into the surrounding jungle on your own. It had been a long time since he woke up beside you. He pressed another lazy kiss to your thigh. He missed you.

Another kiss. And another kiss.

“Javi…”

Another kiss. He’d take as many as he could get before things came to a painfully inevitable head.

He wasn’t naive, he knew you had seen bad things before. Colombia was far from your first rodeo when it came to nations in disarray, be it war, genocide, drug trade or dictatorships, he knew that. You weren’t a photographer, you were a photojournalist. He knew that.

There were things you left out when you told your exciting stories at the bar, parts of your cultural escapades in South East Asia or the Middle East that didn’t come with chuckles and smiles. He saw the way your stare absconded when Steve pressed too hard in a direction you weren’t quite willing to go and the chuckle you offered as cover as you reached for your drink and changed the subject skillfully. He listened to the things you told him beneath the blanket of darkness in his bedroom, before it became your shared bedroom, hushed whispers covering for your voice cracks as the details caught you. And he had read more of your journals than anyone else, he read passages you didn’t typically share and he saw some of the photos folded between the pages while others were showcased openly.

One was just a little girl. The folded half of the photo had caught his undeniable curiosity when a phone call interrupted you while showing him some of your older work. He hadn’t asked, he had just opened it. It was a little girl. Big smile, beautiful brown eyes. Just a little girl. There were hundreds of photos filling your journals, many of them children, but this one was folded. Hidden.

And when you returned to the table, you folded the picture shut and he knew better than to ask.

Just like he knew better than to ask when he first noticed you shying away from his gun. He never thought twice about leaving it out openly before you first showed your hesitancy and he never thought twice about putting it in a drawer after you had. He knew it wasn’t a typical civilian gun-shyness, he knew there was a reason for it.

He knew you had seen bad things before, but this wasn’t just that. He hadn’t just seen bad things in his line of work, he had done bad things. Too many bad things.

Another kiss.

Eventually, you stopped writing and recapped your pen. “Javi…”

“I know, baby.” He laid yet another kiss along your skin, actively avoiding your stare as he felt you shift to look down at him. “I know.”

“You’re going to have to talk to me…”

A rough sigh escaped his tight chest as he pressed his forehead into the curve where your thigh met your hip. Muffled, his words vibrated against the fabric of your loose-hanging tee, baggy around your hips. “I know, baby.”

He did know. He really did. But that didn’t make it any easier.

As his eyes clenched shut, buried in the warmth of your side, he could feel you shuffling around, stacking up the photos and abandoning your work by the foot of the bed. He thought it was just so you could turn all your focus to him, but you kept moving, adjusting until you laid back against a carefully constructed mountain of pillows. He readjusted almost automatically, resting his head in your lap as your fingers wove themselves into his hair.

“I miss you, Javi…” your hand brushed the flattened mess of hair back out of his eyes, carding through all of it strand by strand. “You’ve been here this whole time but I… I miss you.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to leave Javi, that’s the last thing in the world that I want to do, but you’ve gotta work with me here. This is new for me too, alright, staying in one place is new for me…” he pressed a kiss to the indent your skin had made on itself while you were sat up for so long, urging you on as your voice grew weaker. “I want to stay here. With you.”

He could hear every word you weren’t saying just as clearly as the ones you were.

Don’t give me a reason to leave, you said. This is your last chance.

He owed you more than the fear of losing you. He owed you the truth.

“Things are bad here, baby. They’ve been bad for a while, I know, but they’re getting worse.” Still, he couldn’t find the words he needed to. Vague wasn’t what you deserved. You deserved answers. “I’m doing a lot of bad things. Bad things that I can’t… I can’t bring home to you.”

“But you do.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, dipping his stare from yours and instead settling his eyes on the stitched hem of your shirt where it rucked up across your stomach. “I don’t want to,” he corrected himself and you seemed to accept that for now as his breath released in a ragged cascade across your lap. “There are parts of me that I don’t want you to see.”

“You mean parts of your job.”

No. He didn’t.

He had grown too comfortable pulling a trigger to separate himself from his work anymore, the guilt never went away but he stopped hesitating. If a man pointed a gun at him with the intent to kill him, then he did the same. It didn’t matter that he was doing things for the right reason anymore, at some point, a line needed to be drawn. Doing bad things for good reasons sounded just in theory, but he was doing more and more bad and coming out with less and less good.

Carrillo. Los Pepes. How much was too much? When was he going to be able to look at himself in the mirror again?

“Javi…”

“I know that the guys I’m fighting are much worse than me, but the lines keep getting blurrier, and what I’m willing to do to stop them… at some point…” He lost his breath, and no amount of gentle strokes through his hair could get him to keep going.

“Baby…” you cooed, dragging your nails along his scalp as his eyes fell shut. “I’ve known my fair share of bad men, you aren’t one of them.”

With his eyes shut, his mind had free reign. Over and over again he watched Carrillo line the boys up in the alley, over and over again he watched the kids talk back to him. They didn’t think he would do anything. They were just kids. Over and over again he watched him level the gun to the kid’s head and pull the trigger. Over and over again.

Extracting your hand from his hair, your warm palm moved down to his cheek. “Bad men don’t think like that, Javi.”

His head shook but your touch remained constant.

“Javi, baby, what is it? What do you keep seeing?”

Your touch was too soft, your gentle hold bordering on suffocating. He couldn’t breathe. Over and over again, the trigger pulled, the gunshot echoed, and the kid dropped.

He left a numb, barely there kiss to the hem of your shorts where they laid on your thigh, and pulled himself up. It was a weak promise he made to you, to cut back on his smoking, you knew that when he made it, yet he still felt guilty rolling over and reaching for the half-empty pack he pulled from his pockets last night and left on the nightstand. He could feel your eyes lingering on the tension held taut between his shoulders, he could feel the concern smothering your stare, he could feel the weight of it chilling his spine.

“Javi…” he could hear you sitting up behind him but he didn’t stop, he threw his legs over his side of the bed and lit his cigarette with an effortless flick of the lighter. Your hand found his shoulder and he flinched. “Javi, I—”

“He was just a kid.”

He could feel the comforting confidence leave you, your grip losing all its strength where it lingered on his shoulder. You didn’t pull back, but you might as well have, your touch was numb. He inhaled a deep breath of smoke, but the warmth was nothing compared to the chill emanating from you the second the word ‘kid’ left his lips.

“Javi, what happened?” There was an edge to your tone, a careful cut.

“Carrillo he… he told me that he wanted to send a message. I didn’t ask what that meant… I trusted him so I didn’t ask…” He coughed out, wiping over his face with his hand as he folded even further in on himself. Again and again, he watched the kid drop. Again and again, the echo of the shot rang through the alley and became all he could hear. “Escobar, he uses kids as spotters, to keep an eye on the military. Just boys, maybe as old as fourteen, and young as seven, maybe eight. And Carrillo, he wanted to round them up, he wanted to send a message.”

This was as quiet as the room had ever been.

He could hear each of your stilted breaths, every rustle against the sheets as you shifted carefully behind him, every beat of your heart.

He sucked in another breath of smoke. “He lined them up in this alley, he was talking to them, he was trying to scare them but… but one of the kids wouldn't shut up. He didn’t think… I didn’t think…”

Your grip found itself again as you started pulling the rough puzzle pieces he choked out for you together.

“I just stood there watching when he pulled the trigger. Everytime I close my eyes, I see it again and I can’t…”

“Javi, baby—” Tighter and tighter, your grip grew as you held his shoulder, fingers digging in as he slipped further and further away. Each flash of memories in his mind took him deeper and deeper down, until the darkness of his guilt began to swallow him whole.

“I just stood there, I let it happen. I knew something was different with him, I knew and I just let him do it—”

Your other hand ran up his back, your body heat pressing closer in behind him as the chills settled in his spine grew constant, a cold wind swirling in his chest. “Javi—”

A violent breath of smoke fell from his lips as he scoffed, disgust bubbling up from deep within his gut. “I didn’t even try to stop him.”

“Could you have?”

The brutalized scene playing behind his mind froze. “What?”

“I only met him a few times but he wasn’t a man to compromise. If you had tried, do you honestly think you could have stopped him?” Your voice was closer now, right over his shoulder as you tentatively wrapped yourself around him from behind. Every inch of your touch was timid and hesitant, like you thought one wrong move would shatter him into a thousand pieces.

Maybe you were right.

He smashed the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray on the nightstand as his tone grew deeper, rough with a tone he never took with you. “I was standing right there.”

“You just said you didn’t know what he was planning to do, Javi—”

“I should have known.”

“Javi—”

“I watched his men march them into the alley, I stood there when they lined them up on their knees,” he cursed, rubbing rough over his face, incapable of looking back at you. “I should have stepped in before it ever got that far.”

Your lips pressed weakly to the back of his neck. “Okay.”

He shook his head and stubbornly fought, “I should have—”

“I’m not placating you, Javi, you’re right.” You sighed, leaning forward to rest your head between his shoulders. “It’s okay.”

“Things are bad here, baby… I do bad things and I don’t want to…” curse you with it.

One of your hands scaled up the treacherous landscape of his back, winding your fingers into the short bits of his hair hanging down his neck. “Hiding things from me isn’t going to keep me here. I don’t need you to protect me.”

Again, his head shook, with the last of the strength he could muster. “That doesn’t stop me from wanting to.”

No, you pressed a soft kiss between his shoulders again, you knew that.

Wrapping your hand from the back of his neck around to his cheek, pushing his face towards his shoulder where yours met him. “You’re not a bad man, Javi, it’s just a bad situation.”

His voice broke, weaker than you had ever heard him as his hand reached up to pull yours from his face. “Then why does it feel like this…”

“Because it does,” you sighed. “Because when bad things are happening and you can’t do enough, that kind of sour, guilty sickness is all you can feel.”

There was a knowing bite to your words, a telling drop of your stare from his.

“That and anger.” your chuckle broke through your solemn resolve. “I don’t know, I spend a lot of time as a bystander, I can’t speak to what you do. But I know about seeing a lot of bad and not being able to do enough good to make a difference, I know a lot about that anger.”

The years he had under his belt in Colombia were nothing compared to the years you had on him. Before moving here, before picking up this fight against the narcos as his own, he had been a low-level agent in the States. That wasn’t to say he didn’t see his fair share of violence, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t a day to day struggle for humanity. The same couldn’t have been said for you. He asked once, how long you had been traveling for, and you had answered mainly with the shrug of your shoulders.

When he pressed on for an actual answer, you shrugged again. “I don’t know, I was in school for journalism and bored out of my mind. A friend suggested a trip to Mexico and I didn’t ever really go back to the States after that.”

Whatever he was feeling, god, it must have been nothing compared to the years of compounded anger settled in your bones. And still, your touch remained the softest thing and your work the most beautiful. You could take the horrible city around you and find a way to highlight the glorious humanity afflicted by the shadows of reality. You could take the ghost of a man he was and capture the unburdened levity of his smile, the happy crinkle of his eye, and the loving center his job forced him to bury deep.

He loved you more than life itself, but more than that, he cherished you. Because for you, he wanted to be better. For you, he wanted to be the man you photographed.

At the very least, he owed you that.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, not knowing how to move from there, but when you finally got up and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, he at least knew Brazil was off the table.

For one day, one quiet morning, it was enough.

-

tags:  (let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged) @cinewhore @tiffdawg @gravegoth @xjaywritesx @leonieb @burnt-august @doodlingbreak @mistermiraclee @theocatkov @lovinglokiforever @friendscall-me-mom @lazybeeches @sesamepancakes @rogueonestan @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @paperbag33 @witchyavenger @littlevodika @hoodedbirdie @nominalnebula @seasonschange-butpeopledont @thehippiequilter @anu-simps @republicansithlord @mrschiltoncat @hnt-escape @frietiemeloen @mishasminion360 @melaniermblt @phoenixpascal @justanotherblonde23 @justrunamok @yooforia @gracie7209

ghosts

—CHAPTER THREE: happy

pairing: Javier Peña x f! reader

previous part | next part | masterlist 

a/n: okay wow, this was at 3k when I promised it two weeks ago and now it’s 5.7k. just a slight continuity warning: this whole series is kind of a ‘fuck you’ to the narcos timeline bc I can’t remember when they were in Medellin or when Connie left and came back all relative to everything happening with Carrillo so don’t hate me, I’m going to make it work out I think

also just a general thought – to everyone who responded so well to the last two parts, your enthusiasm is what made me get this part done and edited, tell your fav authors you love them whenever you get the chance ! it makes a difference :)))

The day had been sort of a daze. 

By the time the sun had set gently behind the horizon, muting the sunlit sky into hues of lavender, you were already a few drinks deep, laying back on the front steps of the complex. Time was passing, the seconds turning to minutes, turning to hours, playing out so beautifully in the sky overhead with clouds and colors floating, changing with every breath, and you weren’t moving. You just couldn’t find the energy. 

Not to take a picture, not to flip through the diligently kept journal in your lap, not to do a damn thing but drink. It wasn’t a solution but at this point, it didn’t seem like it could do any more damage. 

The lavender grew darker. The soft orange of the streetlamps ignited up and down the length of the barely busy street. Windows that had previously welcomed the temperate afternoon breeze shut to the aching chill that blew in with the gradual fall of the blanket of dusk over the city. Glasses and bottles clinked with a cheer of ‘salud’ in the small restaurant down the street, couple’s arguments behind closed doors leaking into the street, the roar of a motorcycle’s engine being cut short as the chastising slap of a mother knocked the poor boy in the adjacent alley out of his confident bluff. All the little things. 

It was always the little things. 

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ghosts

—CHAPTER TWO: little things

pairing: Javier Peña x f! reader

previous part | next part | masterlist

a/n: a little look back in time, a little insight into what’s going on, a lot of pain and angst but maybe some hope ? these two a easily carving out a place in my heart, I hope y’all are as invested as I am bc there is def more to come

Falling in love with Javier had happened pretty fast. 

It wasn’t the exact moment you saw him, but it may as well have been. 

There was a gorgeous kind of levity to him as he hid his laughter behind the neck of the bottle of beer dangling so casually from his grip, a beautiful kind of stoicism to him as the mood around the table died off and the blonde man sat beside him pulled himself to his feet, tossed a few bills down and shuddered him with a sturdy hit to the shoulder. He surveyed the crowd out of what seemed to be genuine curiosity, scanning the field just like all the single men seemed to be, but there was a reverence in the delicious color of his deep eyes, something you didn’t know how to quantify as they landed on you. There was a depth to him that words could just never come close to describing. 

Maybe it would have saved you a lot of hurt if you had turned away the second you caught sight of him across the bar, but even at his worst, even as you cradled yourself, desperate for warmth beneath the thick woven stitch of the dark tones of the afghan blanket thrown over your shoulders, you couldn’t really imagine doing it different. 

No one made you grab your glass and meet him at the bar. It was all you. 

Keep reading

ghosts

CHAPTER ONE: nocturnal thoughts

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

next part | masterlist

a/n: so this was just supposed to be a little snippet where I expanded on a drabble I wrote for @tiffdawg around Halloween (👻) and it became a lot more ;) I have more ideas, I may or may not write them, feedback as always is appreciated !!

Nights like these were the worst kind. 

Faster than the wind could blow, whipping it’s way through the open windows of the jeep with a cool and haunting whistle, the hours got away from you, ticking away minute by minute until there was more moonlight in the sky then there were headlights in the streets, forcing you back on the same promise you made every morning. The same promise you hoped with every inch of your being, every ounce of your exhausted heart, that you might actually be able to keep. 

Every morning you promised. Every morning he believed you. 

And every night he ended up in bed. Alone. 

Keep reading

Cry To Me

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: cursing, friends with benefits, reunited best friends, general fluffiness, allusions to sex

Rating: M

Summary: Frankie and you have reunited after losing touch for years. Fresh off of his divorce you propose a friends with benefits situation which he accepts. The problem is you’re still very much in love with him, but you want him to enjoy his single life after being married for so long.

A/N: In which a person who doesn’t know how to write gets stuck with the thought of dancing with Frankie in the kitchen and writes it. 😅 I saw a tik tok of a couple dancing to Cry to Me by Solomon Burke this morning and this happened. It was supposed to be 500 words, but here we are at over 1,000+. Had no plan for this one, just me churning out nonsense as I went.

AO3

Frankie and you were inseparable growing up having been present for both of your trials of life; his going into the army and you taking the plunge into starting an Etsy business after high school. Your friends defined the two of you as a living definition of bad timing. He had a high school sweetheart that he ended marrying shortly after coming back home from the army. You would have been happy for him if you weren’t so in love with him and it got hard to be around him which is why you had drifted apart.

The next time you saw each other was shortly after his divorce from his wife and you could see how raw it still was for him. You spent the whole night catching up on old memories, delicately skipping over the topic of his ex-wife, and new things going on in your life. That was also the night you had your first kiss, but considering how fresh his divorce was you didn’t want him to jump into another relationship. That’s when you had proposed friends with benefits as a solution. It gave him time to figure things out and you wanted him to be able to enjoy his single life after being married for so long. You didn’t want to be the rebound and you both still got what you wanted out of each other.

Keep reading

Forever & Always// F.Morales

frankie x female reader (slightly no use of y/n or she/her pronouns just the word sister)

warnings: angst, language, tension, alcohol mention, mention of claustrophobia and slight description of anxiety, and language

summary: you moved away from your family and boyfriend at eighteen. when you come back home for your parents 50th anniversary you weren't expecting a rekindling moment with a certain pilot.

authors note: THE ENDING IS EVERYTHING AND IM SO PROUD OF THIS FIC! PLEASE LMK WHAT YALL THINK XOXO

masterlist

They say you’ll never forget your first. First crush, kiss, date, love and heartbreak. However for you, you could never seem to get rid of him. But you weren’t complaining. Francisco Morales was more than your first for everything, he was someone who held more than one could handle- he was your rock. Well that was until the day that “you” ruined everything.

Your parents were known as the sweethearts of your hometown. Marrying right after graduation, they settled in the same town and brought up you and your sister Em. Your parents were involved in everything, your mom being a teacher and your dad being a sheriff. It was hard to blend in to say the least. But there was an ongoing loop. Everyone graduated and stayed home. Your older sister, Em, even became a part of that treacherous loop. And you hated that loop. You always dreamed of big cities, fashion, traveling the world, but mostly just getting out of town. And you had promised yourself that nothing would hold you back from pursuing that. Sadly Frankie thought he could have kept you a little bit longer. But things change- actually a lot has changed since you’ve been back home for more than a weekend stay. Now you were traveling back home for your parent’s 50th anniversary extravaganza. And nothing could help prepare you for the next few days.

Your plane had landed around one in the afternoon. Grabbing your luggage you made your way over to the area where Em said she would pick you up. Looking around you didn;t see her red car. Dialing her number you were ready to direct her to your terminal.

“Hello?” Em said on the other line. She sounded groggy and as if she wasn't in the car.

“Terminal 47 remember.” You said angrily, Knowing she forgot.

“Shit.” She said, then another voice was heard.

“Babe what time is it?” You gasped at the sound of Pope's voice.

“Hold on, you first forgot your little sister's arrival at the airport, and you have Pope in your bed Em! When did he come back? What happened to independency?” You said rather loudly into the mic.

“Shut up. You're too damn loud.”

“It’s literally tourist season, getting a cab into town will cost me tripple Em.”

“Well don’t call the Millers, they went fishing this morning. You could call-” She said even more groggily. But you hung up the phone before she could finish her sentence.

You couldn’t take your sister right now. You love her most times but she would've killed you if you did this to her. You were gonna call the Millers but if they were busy there was only one person you could call. Hearing the phone ring you were ready to hang up. But then he answered.

“Hey, what's up.”

“Quick question: when did my sister get back with Pope?” You said rather too fast.

A small laugh left him, “That’s a long story.”

“Well I have another question for you.” You said getting nervous.

“Shoot.”

“Well Em, forgot that I was flying in today to surprise my parents and well I’m kind of stranded at the airport. Is there any way you can send someone-” Suddenly you were cut off.

“What terminal are you at?”

“Terminal 47.” You said softly while releasing the breath you were holding.

“It’ll be 20 minutes.” He said.

“Thank you Frankie.” You heard a small yeah and hung up the phone. And thinking to yourself. Yay reunion time.

✰✰✰

18 minutes later, that infamous truck he insists on always keeping, though it's as old as you, rolled up to the curb in front of you. He got out of the truck and damn does he look like the same senior in high school you were swooning over. I mean he’s aged, but not badly. He’s the same Francisco.

“I owe you one.” You said as he got closer.

“No worries, I feel bad about Em and Pope doing you like that.” He said giving you a side hug and grabbing your suitcase. He quickly opened your door, still never letting you touch the door handles in his truck. You slid in and felt a wave of nerves wash over you. The last time you were alone with Frankie was years ago when you guys broke up as he dropped you off at the airport. But you remembered time has passed and everything should be decent now. Well that’s what you hope for. Frankie had finally made it into the truck. He took a breath and looked at you.

“Hey.” He said softly.

“Hi.” You said matching his level,

“So um how long are you staying?” He asked cutting to the chase.

“That's a long story. I’m not sure to be honest.” You said, Frankie nodded and began driving. Fuck the tension just grew higher.

“So um Pope and Em what happened there?” You said wanting to clear the silence.

“Well after Benny’s championship fight, there were lots of beers and then all of a sudden it was like prom all over again with them. Running away for a week and then committing to another relationship. Except this time it seems permanent.” He said constantly looking over to see you in the passenger seat like it was prom night again.

“Dear god, no wonder she didn’t update me on the fight at all. She was with him and didn't want me to find out.” You said chuckling.

Em and Pope were like your parents except they had more problems than a math textbook. They had gotten together in high school and that’s how your friend group formed. You being the younger sister of Em always having to tag along with her fr town events and football games. None of the boys minded but it was the classic my sister's boyfriend's best friend is the one for me. You became Frankie’s date for every outing, and soon you put a label on you both. But when it was your turn to leave for college Frankie and you split. Heartbroken ever since that day. Because you had to stay loyal to him when he left but he couldn’t take the fact that you wanted to leave your small town for good.

“You could get ready at my place and we could go to your parents together. That's only if you're ok with it?” He said.

“Yeah that sounds great. Thank you again Frankie.”

✰✰✰

Frankie’s house was exactly how you imagined it. Pictures and memorabilia everywhere, the smell of fresh wood and sunflowers. He had a small vegetable garden on the side of his house, and he used to always dream of having a house with a pool, so it wasn’t a surprise that you saw a good size one in the backyard.

You walked in more and saw a bunch of pictures on a wall. Glazing over them you saw some with you, and most of them were of him in the army. You walked over to the couches where there were more pictures. In a frame there was a picture of you two on your graduation day. Frankie wore your cap as you kissed his cheek. You smiled at that memory. It was the day after he came back from bootcamp, with him surprising you, both of you worried he wasn't gonna make it.

Frankie had shown you his bathroom. Where you got ready. Leaving the bathroom you walked out to see Frankie waiting for you.

“Wow you look amazing.” He said in a breathy tone.

“Thank you.” You said as you feel your cheeks heat up.

“No seriously, you look great.” He said to reassure you. You walked up and offered your hand.

“Francisco Morales, will you be a gentleman and join me tonight?”

“When have I ever said no to you?” He asked as he took your hand.

“I can think of a few times.” You laughed as you both walked to his truck.

For  once in a long time you felt as if Frankie and you were good. Good as in being together again. But only fools dream like that. Right?

✰✰✰

At your parents' anniversary party everyone and anyone was there. Your parents and friends were surprised to say the least and you enjoyed every minute of it. Your group was sitting around the table enjoying drinks and memories, it felt like you never left. Frankie was sitting by your side, and every so often it looked as if he wanted to be closer to you so you took the initiative to slowly move closer. When his arm was behind you, you were finally content, and based on his smile so was he.

“Care to dance?” You asked Frankie.

“Do I have to remind you how horrible we are at dancing?” He said laughing through his response.

“You owe me one dance, remember?” You said smiling knowing Frankie can’t say no now.

Standing up he offered you his arm and you both made your way over to the dance floor.

Moving to the beat, you were both entangled in limbs, but a bright smile displayed on everyone as they watched you and Frankie become those kids who pined for each other for all those years.

“It’s sad.” Em said to the table.

“On what?” Benny asked cluelessly.

“Pendejo. He promised her that he would only dance with her one more time at their wedding. They were supposed to be the next couple to celebrate fifty years together in this town.” Santiago said, looking at his best friend and you.

Frankie and you were laughing and talking but as a slow song came on you both stayed on the dance floor. Unknowing of the conversation that was going on with your group.

“I missed you.” Frankie said.

“There's not even a way to describe the feeling of how much I missed you.” You said, placing your head on his chest. Frankies grip tightened around you, as if he was scared that he was going to lose you. Again.

“I’m sorry.” You said softly.

“No. No apologies. Just be with me. Right here in this moment. Not the past or the future.”

“Frankie?” You asked, to which he hummed to be his response.

“Promise me this won’t be our last dance?” Your voice cracked as you spoke.

“Promise me you won’t be gone as long as you have been.” He spoke softly, as almost he was about to break. You nodded, not being able to form words. A small kiss was placed on your head from him. This was the way you used to seal promises.

It wasn’t until speeches and cake till your night was ruined. Everyone gathered around where your parents were. Your parents holding a microphone and giving thanks.

“Since we were kids this town has done nothing but helped us. We found true love in this zip code and we raised our wonderful kids here. Our oldest is striving to become a wonderful teacher like her mom and our youngest has been working her heart out since she was handed a highschool diploma. We thank all of you for your support and well wishes towards us and our family.” Your dad spoke as everyone clapped to his thoughtfulness.

“Though we are here celebrating our wonderful fifty years together. We are beyond grateful to have both of our children here tonight with us.” Your Mom spoke and pointed towards you and Em. Will and Benny both hollered and squeezed us together. Small laughter erupted.

“I have been blessed with such an amazing neighborhood, life, and soulmate but I am even more blessed that our youngest was offered a position in London while our oldest will be taking my place the next school year. Thank you all again and enjoy.”

Suddenly it felt claustrophobic. Everyone turned to say congratulations to you. You were surrounded and all you needed was an escape. But everyone was hugging and asking you questions.

While your own thoughts were running wild. How did your mom know about London? You didn’t take the job. Where’s Frankie? Oh my god where’s Frankie? The one that stuck out the most was you had to clear this up with your parents and especially Frankie. Em grabbed you and dragged you away.

“London?” She screamed and questioned. You began shaking your head.

“No, no, no!” You yelled back at her. Your mom had come up to you both and intervened.

“Mijas, what's wrong?” She asked.

“Mom, how did you know about London?” You asked, growing impatient.

“You buttdialed me in one of your meetings. ‘M sorry honey if you had a whole idea to tell us and if I ruined it-”

“Mom, I didn’t take the London job. I took the position of being media manager. A job where I could live here. Be here with, ugh fuck!” You screamed the last part feeling all the emotions rush through you. Benny, Will and Santiago walked over towards you. You wanted to burst out crying knowing Frankie had left. Again.

“Where is he?” You ran up to Benny. Benny shook his head and began to speak.

“He um, he left. We don’t know where too though. Maybe the creek?”

You looked towards Pope and he had a sorry gaze towards you. No you're not taking apologies. You need to make this right.

“Give me keys.” You raised your hand outward. Pope placed his keys and you din;t even say thank you. You just ran towards the cars.

You drove past the creek, school, and finally you saw the truck in his driveway. You parked quickly and ran towards the door. Tears already welling up your eyes. When you knocked and there was no answer to the door your heart began to speed up. Pope had to have keys to his place. And luckily you found the fit. Opening the door you searched for him, but he was sitting on the couch ushering a whiskey.

“Frankie please let me explain.” You said as you rounded the corner.

“Explain what?” He said moving towards the kitchen, that's when you saw his tear stained cheek.

“Explain how you're gonna move to London, how you’re gonna be able to do what you always wanted to do. You already left once, why do it twice?”

“Frankie.”

“Do you know how much joy I have when you call or text me. Or when you even fucking show up for your weekend here once a year. Do you know how much I yearn to gain a little more from you?”

“Frankie please.”

“No, please go ahead and break me one more time.” He said.

“Frankie, I didn’t take the job.” You had lost your temper and began to lose your control over your voice.

“What?”

“Do you know how much I yearned for you to call me and tell me to come back home? Do you know how lonely I was? I cried every night for two months, every holiday, birthday. I know I could live without you but fuck Frankie I didn’t want too.” Frankie had now moved back from behind the kitchen counter to be in front of you.

“Frankie, I was scared. I was a kid and I was so in love with you. I made myself board that airplane and I regretted it the instant I buckled my seatbelt. I wanted to see the world, but the only thing I truly wanted was to see the world with you.” At this point tears were both falling freely between the two of you.

“I only came back home to make sure this is what I wanted. To make sure that I would hate London. I came back to see if I could fix my mistakes.”

“Where are you working?” Frankie had now asked.

“I took the media manager position. I can work wherever I want.” You said now quietly. Frankie nodded trying to comprehend everything. Twenty minutes ago he thought he had lost you again, but now here you were in his house, confessing to him that you were too in love with him, that you cried everyday just like he had.

“Frankie please say something.”

“You’re not leaving?” He asked another question which drove you past patience.

“Frankie I will leave right now if you don’t-” Suddenly you were embraced by his lips. Before you could withdraw your mind from its far places, his arms were around you. You felt that rush of helplessness, the sinking yielding, the surging tide of warmth that left you limp. Just like he did all those times before. He kissed you, softly at first, and then with a swift gradation of intensity that made you cling to him. His insistent mouth was parting your shaking lips, sending wild waves along your nerves, evoking from your sensations you had never known you would be capable of feeling again. And before a swimming giddiness spun you round and round, you knew that you were kissing him back.

You pull away slowly. But then you both were kissing again. It shows you that every other kiss you’ve had without Frankie has been wrong. Both of you are kissing like crazy. Like your lives depend on it. Frankie’s tongue slips inside your mouth, gentle but demanding, and it’s nothing like you've ever experienced with him before. Your fingers wrap around his hat and pull it off, and move to grip his hair, pulling him even closer. He pushes you backward and you’re up against the kitchen table. The weight of his body on top of yours is extraordinary. You feel him—all of him—pressed against you. His face has his signature stubble and it rubs your skin but you don’t care, you don’t care at all. He feels wonderful. His hands are everywhere, and it doesn’t matter that his mouth is already on top of yours, you want him closer but he pulls away.

“You promised me forever and always. Is it forever now?” He asked with a certain amount of need in his voice. You nodded quite ferociously and pulled him in to seal the deal.

“Forever and always Francisco. You will have me forever and I will always love you.”

Leaning forward he sealed the deal, and for a long time it won't be the last seal the deal kiss.

Mapping Your Body

Frankie Morales x Reader; 751 Words

Warnings: talk about injuries and scars

A/N: Thinking about Frankie being shy, and possibly self-conscious of his scars.

Your finger traces along the puckered, light pink line across his cheek bone. 

‘Just one more to memorize’ 

Frankie had a lot of scars. His limbs were littered with lines and marks. Monuments to his sacrifices, adventures, and even clumsiness. Some were new, some were from back way before you even knew him. Some had incredible stories attached to them, that made your side hurt from laughter. Some of them carried such close calls, you couldn’t deal with listening to them without feeling the floor fall from underneath you. 

There was a fairly large. yet faded splotch on his knee from when his cousin accidentally knocked him off a bike. Whether or not the bike was made for a 7 year old and he was 16 was immaterial to the story. It hurt, and he ended up nearly getting gangrene from it. And he will remind you of it over and over again. 

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My Side of the Fence

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (no Y/N) Word Count: 6685 Warnings: Swearing, fluff, a small touch of angst, brief mention of death, brief mention of a terminal illness, drinking. Summary: When you move in next door to help take care of your ailing aunt, you and Frankie form a budding friendship as you live out your lives on opposite sides of the fence line, that maybe could be something more. A/N: Unbeta’d. Also, any Spanish is courtesy of Google Translate, so I profusely apologize to any native speakers if something is incorrect. This series has a Spotify playlist that you can find on the Series Masterlist. Some suggested listening for this chapter would be: Forever’s Gotta Start Somewhere by Chad Brownlee, Unbreakable Heart by JJ Heller, and Shallow by Lady Gaga & Bradley Cooper.

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Next

It’s a quiet Saturday afternoon. The baby is down for her nap. Santiago is inside getting the two of them drinks. Will and Benny, as always, are late to arrive. It’s game day; the Marlins versus the Phillies. The countertops of his kitchen bogged down in an array of chips, dips, and other snacks. Frankie could be inside, relaxing in the coolness of the air conditioning instead of the buzzing heat of a Florida summer. But he’s not.

For the last fifteen minutes or so, he’s been sitting on a patio chair under the shade of his front porch. Watching you. As you hoist cardboard boxes from the dark green Chevy Trailblazer parked haphazardly in front of the house next door. The front passenger tire is rolled up over the curb, the guts of it stacked ceiling-high with moving boxes, baskets of laundry, and totes of random kitsch. A rickety trailer filled with mismatched bedroom furniture is hitched behind it.

He’s been watching, partly out of curiosity, while he’s been fumbling to string together the right words in his head. Words that would entice you to accept his offer of help without him coming off as some creepy old man. They taunt him, glued at the tip of his tongue, while he sits and broods over his continued silence.

“Your new neighbor is kinda cute, Fish,” Santiago comments offhandedly as he pops out of the front door, gawking over the top of the fence at you. He’s got two longneck beers fisted in one hand, the condensation dripping down the brown glass in thick beads while he stares. He diverts his attention back to Frankie, letting the screen door shut with a squeak-thunk as he strolls over. He drops into one of the wicker patio chairs beside him, holding out one of the beers.

Frankie grabs it as Santi takes a long swig from his, watching as you bound back towards your vehicle.

Santiago quirks an eyebrow and points towards the neighbor’s house with the mouth of his bottle, “What happened to the sweet lady who lived there? I liked her.”

“She’s still around,” Frankie shrugs, sipping his beer. The lady in question, Miss Robin, has lived beside him since he moved in, right after he got out of the service. A little eccentric, she’d quickly earned herself the title of his favorite neighbor. She’d cemented the sentiment further when she’d staunchly supported him after the spectacular failure of his marriage. They’ve had so many conversations he’s lost track of most of them.

She’s old school. Classic. Kooky, but fun.

He’s never seen her go a day without donning ruby red lipstick, an ornate flower crown in her hair, and cat-eye glasses attached to a chain around her neck. She and her wife, Virginia, used to throw the wackiest themed parties for their friends that carried on until the cops came out to shut them down. And every Christmas or birthday, she mails him a handwritten card, even though there’s, at best, ten yards between their houses.

Of course, the parties stopped when Ginny passed away from heart complications just before his daughter Viviana was born. The cards are shorter now, the penmanship less clear. Miss Robin’s health hasn't been doing so great lately. She used to greet him at the fence line when he’d get home from work. Give Vivi a smooch on her chubby baby cheek. A bright red lip print left behind. Matching giggles floating between them as they babbled together.

These days he’s lucky if they get a wave from the picture window out front. She’s gotten frail. Lipstick sloppy and flower crown askew from her shaky hands. She can’t go anywhere these days without a tank of oxygen. It was a shit hand she’d been dealt and he hated watching as her exuberance faded.

She didn’t have any kids of her own, but she had siblings and nieces and nephews aplenty. As her illness progressed, it was getting too hard for her to manage the dishes, laundry, yard work, and other chores by herself. He’d done what he could for her: mow the lawn, bring up her mail, haul her trash bins back and forth from the curb. It was kind, but in the long run, he knew there was no way he could manage both his side of the fence and hers. That’s why you were there.

She’d told him you were her favorite niece as he brought a bundle of bills and junk mail to her door one day. She’d ushered him and Vivi into her flower-laden backyard to explain the new face that would be arriving soon. She knew he would worry about a stranger flitting around her house every day. She’d sat with him on the back patio, sipping ice tea and soaking in the late afternoon sun. Vivi chased butterflies and bugs on her wobbly toddler legs while she told him near everything about you. By the time she was done, the pitcher of tea was empty, the sun was dipping below the horizon, and his daughter was dozing off in his lap. He’d left that day feeling like he knew you almost as well as she did.

That was part of the reason he felt like such a dick right now, watching you fumble with a too-large box as you twisted to fit it through the front door. He eyes the furniture in the trailer critically, wondering how you planned to get it inside by yourself.

“Where the hell are Ironhead and Benny?” Santi questions, checking his watch and glancing both ways down the block, “First pitch is in twenty minutes and-” he trails off when he realizes Frankie isn’t paying attention. He stares between his best friend and you, observing how Frankie’s eyes follow you with each trip you take from the car to the house.

He hums to himself thoughtfully and then chugs the rest of his beer. Smacking his lips with a satisfied “Aah,” before leaping to his feet with a clap of his hands. Frankie watches, dumbstruck, as he saunters to the fence line, leaning against the chain-link as he calls out to you, “Hey gorgeous! You need some help? I promise we don’t bite.”

You’re half-in, half-out of the backseat, reaching for a laundry basket of clean clothes when you hear him and turn his way. He’s handsome with his sharp jaw, dark wavy hair with streaks of silver, and five o’clock shadow. He’s got an almost cocky smile broad on his face while he waits for your answer.

You throw back a grin at him, “Uh, sure. Thanks!”

Aunt Robin has mentioned her neighbors to you. To give you the lay of the land, so to speak. Most were ho-hum, but there were some compelling characters mixed in. There was the nosy biddy three houses down, who eked out her old age gawking at everyone from her windows and reporting “persons of interest” to the neighborhood watch. Then there was the middle-aged couple across the street with two mischievous teenage sons. The boys like to swipe lawn ornaments and set them up in wildly inappropriate scenes across the neighborhood. Lastly, and Aunt Robin’s most-loved neighbor, was the divorced father who lived just next door. He always looked out for her, his daughter was sweet, and she found his friends to be such interesting young men.

You’ve heard a lot about him, actually. More so than any of the others. If this is him, though, he’s different from how you pictured. Cheekier and less reserved than what had been described to you.

“Catfish!” Santiago turns to shout at Frankie, “Let’s help the lady out!”

Leave it to Santi to throw around his swagger and resolve the issue he’d been mulling over for too long.

Unlike his friend, Frankie abandons the barely drank beer in his hands on the deck of the porch. Broad hands swiping the silent baby monitor from the railing beside him as he shuffles down the steps. He’s still clipping it to a belt loop as Santiago is rounding the fence, swinging around the end post into the next yard.

“Pendejo,” Frankie mutters, lifting his well-worn hat off his head to card through his hair, and replacing it before he follows after. He loiters a few paces behind Santi, as you hand his friend one of the boxes from the backseat of the SUV.

He shifts it so he can hold it one-handed, flashing a charming smile as he extends a palm out to you in introduction, “Santiago Garcia.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say, offering him your name in return and then glancing over his shoulder. The man behind Santiago is handsome too. He’s a bit taller and more broad than his friend, with coffee-brown hair that winds up around the edges of his ball cap in soft-looking curlicues. You can see a thin silver-white scar just under his left eye that stands out against his tanned skin. He’s got rugged salt and pepper scruff and a matching mustache that twitches along with his upper lip as his eyes meet yours. They are a warm, rich brown and they roam over you, examining your features the same way you did his. Between the two, you think he’s the more attractive one.

Santi follows your line of sight to Frankie, a little amused at being so utterly forgotten, “Fish, stop lurking back there and say hi.”

With that, he readjusts the box in his arms and heads towards the front door, not even asking where that particular parcel belongs. Frankie takes a reluctant step forward, scratching nervously at the nape of his neck. You’re damn pretty. He already knew that, sort of. Miss Robin had shared a few old photos with him, but boy, were they poor comparison to the real thing before him now. It sure as fuck made him more jittery as he reached to shake your hand, too.

You notice how your whole hand is engulfed by his palm and the curves of his fingers. Rough and work calloused, his hand seems a perfect match to the man before you. Beat-up ball cap, red t-shirt stretched out at the neckline from wear and washed out jeans. He has all the appearance of a hardworking, easy-going man. And you like that.

“So...Fish, was it?” you question, raising your eyebrows in unison when he remains silent.

It’s mostly because he can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you are.

“It’s Francisco,” he replies, clearing his throat and finally speaking, “or, uh, Frankie. Morales,” then he points to the house behind him with a jerk of his thumb, hoping you don’t notice the weeds in the flowerbeds or the porch rails with their chipping paint, “I live next door.”

As if that wasn’t fucking obvious. He mentally groans at his own stupidity, but you don’t notice as you hit him with a million-watt smile that shoots right to his heart.

“So, you’re the neighbor!” you say excitedly, pulling him into an unexpected hug that leaves him reeling as you continue, “Aunt Robin told me about how wonderful you’ve been to her since she got sick. You have no idea how worried we’ve all been about her being in the house by herself.”

“U-uh,” Frankie stumbles for a reply before one catches on his tongue, “I-It’s no problem. Neighbors are supposed to look out for each other.”

“Well, I really appreciate it,” you beam, pulling back to look him earnestly in the face, “Not enough people feel that way these days.”

Admittedly, he probably has an outdated view of urban Americana and maybe it might be suitable if he lived anywhere else. The neighborhood he lives in isn’t the greatest. Thirty or so years ago it was the ideal with its cookie-cutter houses and tree-lined streets. Nowadays too many families have been pulling out of the city for suburbia and the country. The houses ended up sitting vacant or converted to rentals, leased to sketchy college students looking for cheap rent off-campus. The ones that stayed behind were either too attached to their homes, like Miss Robin, or couldn’t afford to move, like him.

He offers you a lopsided grin that pulls a dimple into his right cheek as he motions to the back of your vehicle, “What should I grab?”

“Anything is fine,” you say, sweeping up the basket of clothes you had set down when Santiago had called out to you. Frankie pops open the tailgate to grab one of the larger boxes stacked back there and follows after you up the front walk.

The house is a quaint single-story two-bedroom affair, the outside a muted pastel blue with white trim and a dark gray roof. The age of its owner is more evident inside, with retro scalloped wallpaper, wood paneling, worn shag carpeting, and faded linoleum. A bright mix of tangerine, canary yellow, and walnut that would have been in vogue when the home was purchased.

Your aunt is seated in a plush velvet lounge chair across the room. Santiago kneels beside her, leaning on the armrest as she pats his cheek affectionately. He whispers something to her that makes her eyes go wide before she bursts into laughter. You give them both a wave as you and Frankie pass through the living room and take a left into a short hallway.

The first door on the right is ajar, the room lit by an outdated ceiling fan that swirls lazily overhead. You step inside, wiggle an elbow towards a pile of boxes in the far corner, and tell him, “Over there is fine,” as you plunk the basket in your arms into the bottom of the closet on the other side of the room. He stacks his armload with the others before the two of you retreat back through the house.

“Francisco,” Miss Robin coos at him as he passes, waving him over with her hands, “You come over here and give me a hug real quick.”

You linger at the doorway, watching as he crosses the room without hesitation, wrapping her petite frame in the broadness of his own. He’s careful of the tubing and nosepiece for her oxygen as he embraces her and you can’t help the grin that spreads ear-to-ear as you brush past Santiago as he’s heading in with another load.

“How’s our Vivi?” she asks Frankie in a soft voice as he pulls away again, “I miss her sweet face.”

He tells her all about how big his daughter is getting. Tall for her age. Her features seem less baby-like every day he picks her up from daycare. Growing into a miniature version of him, as his friends would tell it. Then there are the new words and colors and songs she’s learned.

Aunt Robin smiles softly, watching as his eyes flick up to look at you each time you cross the room with another load.

“The two of you will have to come have dinner with us sometime,” She pats the back of his hand excitedly, “My girl is a good cook. She’ll take care of us,” and then a sly grin pulls at her lips, “I hope you’ll look out for her like you have for me.”

“Of course I will,” he promises, pecking her on the cheek as he stands again, “I should get back to helping before Pope accuses me of slacking.”

With three of you put to the task, it’s quick work emptying out the back of the Trailblazer. A few small totes and a crate of bathroom essentials are all that remain, which are easy enough for you to get later. Frankie and Santiago make the decision to start hauling in the bedroom furniture next, unloading your dresser from the back of the trailer as a souped-up truck rolls into Frankie’s driveway.

All three of you shoot looks over the fence as Will and Benny hop out of the cab. They’re bickering about something as the doors slam behind them. As you watch them you wonder if your new neighbor and his friends have cornered the market on good looks.

“Pope! Fish!” the younger of the two shouts, holding up a six-pack of fruity beer, “What are you boys doing?!” before he motions dramatically towards Frankie’s house, “The game’s already started.”

“More of your friends?” you question Frankie, as he and Santi gently set down the dresser on the walkway. The older one has already jogged over to where the three of you are standing, relieving you of the empty dresser drawer you were carrying.

“Will Miller,” Frankie introduces you to the man in front of you, “and that’s his brother Benny.”

Benny is still standing in his driveway, passing belligerent looks between all of you before his brother barks, “Get over here and help Benjamin!” and he heaves an annoyed sigh before setting his beer on the truck’s hood and hustling over.

You are a little taken aback by all of the unexpected help, as the four of them manage to unload your entire bedroom setup into the spare room in no time flat. Aunt Robin is thrilled over all of the extra visitors, who all greet her with kindness and familiarity. You glance at Frankie, who is laughing as your aunt pinches Benny's cheeks, and are overwhelmingly grateful for the fact that he has clearly done more than just check-in on her every so often.

You’re walking the four of them back to the fence line when a navy blue Kia slips into the driveway behind you, your best friend behind the wheel.

“Turns out I didn’t need you after all Liv!” you crow as she exits the vehicle, taking an appreciative look at your newfound company before nearly being barrelled over by your large Goldendoodle as he charges towards you in excitement.

She lets out an exasperated noise as he trots away, “I’d have been here an hour ago if your furry friend here would have gotten his ass into the damn car when I told him to.”

“My Gatsby?” you fuss, leaning over to scritch him as he prances circles around you before he skirts past you to investigate your neighbor and his friends with inquisitive snuffles at their legs, “Sounds about right for you, you hairy monstrosity.”

Liv takes a few moments to get through some introductions while you try to wrangle in your canine companion.

Gatsby decides that out of the four of them, Frankie is the most interesting subject. His two large paws scrambling up onto his chest, so he can sniff at Frankie’s scruff and slobber at his chin. You tug at his collar with an authoritative, “Get down!” but your neighbor takes it all in an easy stride, rubbing Gatsby down with both hands.

“I probably smell like my dog,” Frankie says aloud, talking to your dog and not you, “Little shit is going to be jealous if he finds out I’ve been petting you.”

As if on cue, a brown and black foxhound pops up into one of the front windows next door, a boisterous yowl sounding through the baby monitor at Frankie’s hip. You hear him groan moments before a shrill cry of “Papa!” carries over the sound of the dog. He nudges Gatsby back down onto all fours and waits for you to get a hold of him before he locks eyes with you, “That’s my baby girl. I gotta go.”

“No, of course,” you tell him, “Thank you so much for the help. I owe you.”

“It’s no trouble,” he smiles at you one last time, before retreating with his friends towards the house.

There are dishes in the sink that need washing. Laundry in the dryer, growing wrinkled and cold. The counters need to be wiped down and the floors swept. But you are in the backyard instead, enticed by the beauty of the day. It’s temperate and bright, dappled sunlight glimmering through the leaves of the maples, oaks, and cypress that spackle the neighborhood. The air is rich with the heady sweet florals of Aunt Robin’s garden and the resonating sounds of joy that drift over the fence.

Frankie’s back deck has been invaded by his friends. They take turns cracking jokes, choosing songs from a classic rock playlist, and rolling in the grass with his beautiful daughter. It’s heartwarming, watching these burly grown men love on that tiny, sweet girl. Which is part of the reason that you’re out here, planting blush pink chrysanthemums in the already overcrowded beds and letting the housework wait. You’ve been drawn in by your neighbor and his friends from the moment that you met them.

You’ve gleaned a lot, observing them from the quiet corners of your yard. Sometimes getting details straight from Frankie. Or through sly comments made by your aunt, who delivers them in breathy whispers against your ear when she catches your lingering looks when they turn up next door.

There’s straight-laced Will, with his clean-cut, all-American appeal. He’s tall and laid-back, with a no-nonsense take on life. Steady and cool no matter what chaos breaks out. His brother, Benny, is cut from a similar cloth, though his personality skews into goofiness. You get the idea he likes to be the loudest person in the room, dropping wise-ass remarks or instigating tickle wars with Vivi until she’s red-faced and lost in a giggling fit. Santiago, well, you could tell from the get-go that he fancies himself as some suave casanova. Full of honeyed words and cheeky grins, strutting around like a peacock looking to mate. He likes to crow to you over the fence, dropping saucy flirtations that always fail to bait you. Then there’s Frankie. He’s warm, smart, and uncommonly kind with a quiet, soft-spoken charm. In the last few months, he and Viviana have managed to stitch themselves into your life as if sewn in by an expert seamstress. It’s a delightfully unexpected symbiosis.

It started small. He’d bring up the bins on trash day if you got home late. Casually remind you as he leaned on the fencepost that you should park in the driveway at night not the street, otherwise the cops will ticket you. You would sneak Alamo, his hound dog, treats threaded between the gaps in the chain-link. Sit out on the back patio with your Bluetooth speaker blasting Disney songs, so you and Vivi could serenade each other while she blew bubbles or splashed in her kiddie pool.

It grew, with him offering to continue to mow the lawn when Aunt Robin’s ancient contraption refused to start. In exchange, you took his daughter on adventures to the neighborhood park where she would burn off most of her excess energy. Afterward, he’d sit at the back patio with you, downing an icy beer while you and Vivi sipped pink lemonade, watching the dogs sprint through their respective yards. You once spent an afternoon clearing his flower beds of weeds and coaxing his dying coreopsis and zinnias back to life. Carefully pruning and watering them over weeks until they bloomed in bursts of gold and garnet and magenta. He canceled a night out with the boys to sort out your washer when the drum refused to spin and it puddled water down the hallway. Sending you next door to use his, watching cartoons with Viviana while the clothes went through the wash.

It evolved into Monday movie nights at his. Some PG thing playing on the flat screen while his daughter wedged herself between the two of you. Gorging on popcorn and pretzels and soda. Then Wednesday night dinners at yours. You’d cook, he’d set the table. Vivi would read stories with Aunt Robin while you both cleaned up. She’d fall asleep on Gatsby's wispy haunches while Frankie waltzed with your aunt in the living room as Eric Clapton and Barry White played on her old 45s. You’d snap pictures of it all with a vintage polaroid camera you found gathering dust in the back of a closet. You’d walk them to the fence, twisting Vivi’s curls around your finger while you kissed her sleepy head goodbye.

There was hardly a day that went by that you didn’t spend at least a few minutes in each other's company. Conversation between the two of you seemed easy, passed back and forth as you went about the routine of your days. It wasn’t hard to see why Aunt Robin was so fond of him. He was the best sort of neighbor to have and an ideal kind of man: respectful, honest, and hardworking. An EMS helicopter pilot for one of the local hospitals, who talked proudly about his job without being arrogant. A devoted father and friend. It was no great wonder that you were hiding a hopeless crush on him.

For all the time the two of you spent together, it felt like there was still a barrier between you, like the fence that separated your yards. Something unbreachable that kept you firmly apart from the realm that encompassed him and his friends. It was likely that Frankie was just doing the neighborly thing, looking out for you as he had your aunt and nothing more. Which only made you feel ridiculous when you imagined being invited into their inner circle. Instead, you would simply pretend you belonged as you eavesdropped on his life from here.

Across the fence, Alamo has been making a pest of himself, stealing snacks from Vivi’s tiny fingers and begging for handouts from the grill. Santi shoos him away with a stern, “¡Vete!” and a clack of the tongs in his hands until the dog retreats. He makes another round of the deck, nearly tripping Joanna, Benny’s fiancé, as he nudges against the back of her knees seeking to be pet. Then trying to scramble into Laura’s lap as she drops to sit beside her husband, until Will pushes the pooch down and playful swats at his hindquarters as he sulks away.

Thoroughly deflected by everyone in the nearby vicinity he skitters down from the deck and trots to the fence line. He plants himself inches from it, yowling dejectedly in your direction until you turn to acknowledge him.

“What’s the matter, pup?” you coo, setting aside your trowel and packing soil around the roots of your freshly planted chrysanthemums. You spread out a new layer of mulch around the stems before giving him a sympathetic look, “Are you being ignored?”

Frankie spots you as he’s returning from the kitchen, a Capri Sun in hand to soothe away his daughter’s tears since his furry troublemaker had gobbled up the last of her goldfish crackers. He watches you toss aside your gardening gloves and scoot up to the chain link to dote on the offending beast, sliding the patio door shut behind him. You beam him a radiant, pearly smile as his gaze lingers and catches your notice as he crosses the deck towards Viviana. You only break it when Alamo summons your attention back to him with a throaty whinge.

Still, he can’t look away as he passes the drink pouch to his daughter’s waiting hands, dropping into a deck chair. You let out a laugh as the dog licks at your fingers through the gaps in the fence. It’s a bright, tinkling sound that makes a tightness pull in his chest. To say that he’s infatuated by you is an understatement. You’ve engraved yourself into his quiet life. Though you may have come along to care for your ailing aunt, he’s found himself and his daughter often the equal recipients of your adoration and kindness.

There’s always a small part of him that feels unworthy of it. Despite regular visits with his therapist, he struggles to accept that he deserves the life he has, with his beautiful daughter, his strong friendship with the boys, and this newfound connection to you. He’s haunted by the demons of his past and a gnawing sense of inadequacy. Still, he tries to remind himself to be grateful. Especially where Vivi is concerned; his baby girl thriving with how you devote your free hours to her. It’s a tempered joy that makes his heart ache when he realizes how much she’s needed more than just his presence in her life.

He thinks about the way you teach her the names of the flowers in his yard, leading her slowly around the perimeter as her tiny hands brush across petals and fern fronds while she repeats them back in her soft toddler stammer. Or how you sit on the front porch with him in the cool hours of early morning as he takes groggy sips of black coffee. Pulling Vivi’s hair up into fancy ponytails, french braids, and poofy buns before he carts her off to daycare, while he listens half-awake to your instructions on how it’s done. You’ve even taken up your aunt’s place at the fence, waiting for them to get home in the evenings so you can smooch her cheek and tell them both goodnight.

It feels so perfect and natural at times that he’s constantly looking for more ways to be near you. To take a stroll around the block with him at sunset, take a day with him and Vivi at the beach, or to have you join in when the boys and their ladies come for a weekend barbecue. But just like the day you moved in, he’s hopelessly tongue-tied and unable to parse out the words, worried it will come out wrong or that his feelings will be on full display when he’d rather keep them close to the chest for now. His divorce has left him with a residual vulnerability that’s made him averse to emotional displays for fear of censure.

“Okay, I’ve got to get back to it, buddy,” you tell Alamo as you rise to your feet, wiping his slobber onto your jeans. He pouts and begins to pace in front of you, stopping to gaze expectantly at your back door and make small whimpers. You know he’s looking for Gatsby to keep him entertained, now that you have to leave him. The two of them like to run each other ragged, sprinting up and down the fence line together with reckless abandon for hours.

Normally your canine would already be out here with you, but he has a penchant for rolling in freshly tilled dirt, so you’ve kept him inside under Aunt Robin’s supervision while you did your planting. The hound dog seems disgruntled by this fact, continuing to pace and making a series of upset sounds at you. You murmur a “Sorry pup,” as you gather up your tools and move on to another section of the garden where you’d spotted some weeds poking up through the mocha brown mulch. He’ll just have to get over his disappointment.

You turn your back, plucking at the offending weeds as his pouting cries go quiet. You assume he’s gone back to being a nuisance to the people in his own yard until a loud bark shatters the quiet hum of insects and softly spoken chatter from Frankie’s deck. A cacophony of voices rise in alarm as you swivel back just in time to see Alamo take a flying leap over the chain link, paws nearly grazing the top as he crests to the other side. His body makes a soft whump as he lands in the grass.

“Jesus!” you shout at the sight of it before the dog is bearing down on you, his wet nose snuffling at your ankles as you try to grab a hold of him. He skirts from your grasp, backing away a few feet before leaning into a bow, rump raised playfully in the air as his tail swishes furiously behind him. You crouch and try to summon him to you, “What’s gotten into you, hm?”

Frankie stares, dumbfounded, for only a moment before he’s jogging in your direction to help. When the dog refuses to come to you, you step towards him instead, but he bolts at your approach. Meanwhile, your neighbor scrambles over the fence and into your yard much less gracefully than his pet. His brows furrow in irritation as he tries to sneak up on him, but the dog turns at the last second, spotting him and darting away as Frankie curses, “Alamo! ¡Maldito perro! Get your ass over here!”

The hound likes this game of cat and mouse since it means the both of you are now giving him your full attention as you pursue him through the grass. Baiting you in by letting you get mere inches from him before he zips off at the last second.

“Mo!” you holler and he turns his head back at the use of his nickname but doesn’t slow down as you continue to follow him, “This is my side of the fence, not yours. Get over here!”

He’s unfettered by your statement, slipping through Frankie’s fingers as he loops back around the yard, stopping briefly to jump on your back door and paw at the glass. The excitement of it all has drawn Frankie’s company from the deck for a closer look and your aunt to the door to watch it unfold. You see Gatsby from the corner of your eye, fogging up the glass as his snotty nose presses against it. You can hear him whine, displeased that you’re out there having fun without him.

“Honey?” Aunt Robin asks through the screen of the door, “Everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Auntie,” you reply with a breathless huff, side-eying Frankie as he dives unsuccessfully towards his dog again, “Alamo just...came for a visit.”

He moves beside you, leaning onto his knees to recover from the chase, as Alamo pauses several feet from the two of you, grumbling an apology, “Sorry about this.”

“Not your fault he’s a pain in the ass,” you smirk, trying to form some kind of game plan to lure him in, “We could try to bribe him?”

Frankie gives you a nod as you quick-step towards the house. You keep treats on a shelf just inside the door as a reward for Gatsby when he does his business and doesn’t destroy any of Aunt Robin’s flowers. The pup in question is still watching you through the glass, alone now that your aunt has confirmed nothing is amiss, and returned to the other room.

“Back up Gats,” you warn, cracking the door open just enough to reach into the box without giving the Goldendoodle space to escape. Alamo hasn’t missed out on this though, yapping at him in an effort to incite his friend to join him in terrorizing you and Frankie. Which successfully spurs Gatsby on. He wedges himself against your legs, pushing with his full weight until you are stumbling back and he is barging out the door. You let out a sigh as you walk back to Frankie’s side, “And now there’s two.”

The both of them are running laps through your yard, letting out barks and yips and playful growls as they zip by at breakneck speed. Frankie takes a lunge towards Alamo as he passes by, but his reflexes aren’t a match for the canine. The hound easily avoids him at the last second, but Gatsby doesn’t pick up on his friend’s detour soon enough to do the same, trying to zip between Frankie’s slightly splayed legs and knocking him off balance. He throws his arms out for stability and you instinctively reach for him, but it only ends up in throwing him further off-kilter as his weight pulls you both down.

Frankie lets out an aggravated groan as his back slams into the ground, having tried to twist in a way that his body ends up as a buffer between you and the dirt. He takes the brunt of the fall, as you end up half across his chest, your head knocking hard into his chin. He tilts his head to look you over as you sit up, rubbing softly at the crown of your skull, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, brushing your hair out of your face. He watches as it cascades over your shoulder, dogs forgotten, as he’s struck by the thought of how easy it might be from this position to curl his fingers in the strands at the nape of your neck and pull you down to kiss him. Curious about what your skin might taste like if he were to pepper kisses down your jaw and lave at the pulse point of your neck.

His eyes bore into yours, rich orbs of hickory blazed with amber flecks as the sun catches in the iris. He smells of spicy cologne, charcoal smoke, and sweat. You give him the softest smile as you glimpse briefly at his lips and wonder if they’re as warm and soft as they look. Then up to his mop of curls that have come loose from underneath his cap in the fall. You briefly consider trying to twist them into ringlets like you’ve done with his daughter's hair, just as someone nearby clears their throat loudly. You both look up to see Benny leaning on one of the fence posts, a cheesy grin scrawled across his face.

“Fish!” He prods at his friend, “If you wanted to sweep her off of her feet, there are better ways to do it.”

“Fuck you, Benjamin,” Frankie spits as he flips him the bird, rolling onto his side before standing, his back and knees complaining at the effort. His other friends, at least, had the decency to keep their teasing comments to themselves. He leans down and offers you a hand up before scooping his hat off the ground and replacing it on his head. The dogs are still completely caught up in their game, tearing playfully through your backyard. He doesn’t want to impose on you, but after that last disastrous attempt, he doesn’t want to try and wrangle Alamo again until the furry beast has gotten this burst of energy out of his system. He pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance as he glances back to you, “Can he just, I dunno, stay over here until he gets bored? I’m too old to be chasing him all over hell and back. I’ll come back for him after he wears himself out.”

“I don’t think Aunt Robin will mind,” you agree with a small shrug of your shoulder, just as resigned to let them entertain themselves as he is. You’ll just have to go back to weeding the garden and gazing longingly into his yard. You try not to let your disappointment read on your face, plastering on a teasing smile as you motion towards the fence, “Are you planning on hopping back over that way, or do you want to go the long way this time?”

“I’ll go around please,” Frankie chuckles quietly, “My back can’t take any more abuse.”

Leaving the dogs to their own devices, you walk side-by-side with him towards the back door. You lead him through the house and out the front, a silent wave to your aunt as the two of you pass by. Just out of the front door he turns to you suddenly. He stumbles on the words for a moment, pink tongue peeking out between his lips before he speaks, “Listen, do you, maybe, want to come over for a bit? I at least owe you a drink for putting up with my menace of a dog. I promise the company isn’t terrible either. Benny’s a pain but the rest of them are decent enough.”

You beam him one of your million-watt smiles at the offer, “I’d love that! Let me just pop back in to let my aunt know.”

His eyes follow you as you disappear back inside, heart fit to burst. He’s not sure what this is between the two of you or where it might go, but this seems as good a first step as any.

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Next

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EVERYTHING TAGLIST: @green-socks @dihra-vesa @patternedlantern @writeforfandoms @ezrasbirdie @salome-c @kirsteng42

FRANKIE TAGLIST: @thegreenkid

MSOTF TAGLIST: @javierpinme @frankie-catfish-morales

If you want to be tagged in future chapters, send me an ask or if you're interested in getting onto the list for everything/specific characters, fill out my taglist form.

Frankie cutting the backyard with no shirt. 🥵 I had to cut my backyard today and it took me almost 2 hours (my yard is huge, my city had constant rain & I also saved a few tiny frogs)! Some days I feel like a strong, independent woman whenever I cut my yard. Other times, I wish I had a Frankie to help out. Sorry for the venting…but anyways. Frankie if you please. Could be fluff or smut…surprise me 😏

can you blame him? 

pairing || Frankie Morales x Reader

word count || 828

content || suggestive but no smut, Frankie being perfect (as usual) 

a/n || please this is so cute?? also I just had to include the frogs bc I know for a fact that Frankie loves all animals

Frankie planned to get the lawn mowed early in the morning. He’s always been the type to rise early and tackle his responsibilities so he can spend the later part of his day relaxing without worry - but then he started waking up to you, so soft and pretty in his bed. The perfect distraction. So who can blame him when he wakes you with his lips ghosting over your neck and spends the majority of the morning tangled in his sheets with you, seeing how many times he can make you say his name through a moan?

The problem is that the early July heat is intense and Frankie is stubborn. He planned to mow the lawn today, so that’s exactly what he’s going to do. Of course, your offer to help him is brushed off with appreciation, so you decide to make something refreshing for what’s sure to be a tough job. Your homemade lemonade is something he raves about and soon, you’re cutting lemons as the sound of the lawn mower drones on in the background.

It’s admirable, his dedication to keeping his word. You know he doesn’t like the yard to look unkempt, and neither do you, but the idea of braving that heat is exhausting just to imagine. The  front yard is taken care of rather quickly and there’s a moment’s silence before the mower roars to life once more from the backyard. That’s the tougher one, the bigger space that requires more attention - specifically so he doesn’t accidentally harm your garden. You glance out of the bay windows to see him hard at work, his shirt darkening in some places as the heat does a number on him.

Once you’ve slid the pitcher into the refrigerator to cool, you dash upstairs to change into a sundress - a better fit for the hot day. The immediate cooling effect the dress has on you is lost the moment you pass by those bay windows on your way to the backdoor. In the few moments you were upstairs, he’s apparently decided to lose his shirt under the unforgiving July sun and you get an eyeful of your handsome man hard at work.

Even from here, you can see the shine to his tan skin, can appreciate the way his biceps flex as he maneuvers the mower in methodic lines. That hat of his is still on his head, protecting his eyes from the sun, and you’re sure that underneath it, his curls are even more prominent than usual. The sight of him makes you hotter than any hot day ever could, and suddenly you’re beyond glad he’s so stubborn, that he was so hellbent on taking care of the lawn, because the image he makes is something you never want to forget.

Your trance is broken by the sound of the mower sputtering to a stop and you’re quick to slip out the back door, walking quickly through the freshly cut grass. Frankie’s just standing from where he was crouched and there’s a bright smile on his face as he turns to you.

“Look at this little guy!” He holds his hand out to you, voice full of amusement, and you glance down to see a tiny frog huddled against his palm. “I saw him just in time. Isn’t he cute?”

“Yeah, he is.” You say, but you aren’t looking at the (admittedly adorable) frog. You’re looking at Frankie and the happiness that sparkles in his eyes despite the heat and the aches his body surely has from all the manual labor.

Frankie lets the little frog go in a safer area and looks at you, his eyebrows pinching together slightly as he realizes something up. “Whatcha need, honey?”

“Oh, uh… nothing, I just wanted to tell you that I made you some lemonade for when you’re… done.” You trail off slightly, distracted by the way Frankie pulls off his hat to run a hand through his messy hair.

He’s too observant for his own good. “...and what else?”

“Nothing! You just - I just,” You stutter, embarrassment flooding you at your inability to speak. There’s no stopping yourself when you reach forward to tuck a stray curl away from his face, your hand stopping to rest on his cheek. “I just think you look really good like this.”

Amusement lights up his eyes and before you can blink, he leans closer to capture your lips in a kiss and pulls you close by your waist, his hands greedily massaging your soft flesh. A shiver runs down your spine as he practically crushes you to his chest, just another show of his strength.

“How about we take a shower together once I’m done, hm?” He mumbles against your lips and a thrill shoots through you.

“Absolutely,”

Frankie kisses you one last time and ushers you inside with a smack to your ass. And if he rushes through the last bit of the yard, who can blame him?

{Taglist}

@silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @freeshavocadoooo @i-ship-it-ironically @wyn-n-tonic @notabotiswear @theorganasolo @the-witty-pen-name @northernpunk @andruxx @bloodsuckingbastards @coldlilheart @gracie7209 @green-socks @lord-of-restingbiface @asta-lily @xgoldenjenny @mummifymecaptain @kaqua @h-hxgirl @amneris21 @omlwhatamidoinghere @mswarriorbabe80 @mrsbentallmadge @badassbaker @meshlababy @rosiefridayrogersunday @greeneyedblondie44 @iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @paintballkid711 @la-lunaluna @princessxkenobi @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @chattychell  @ew-erin @mrsparknuts @lunaserenade @jitterbugs927 @artsymaddie @thevoiceinyourheadx @a-skov @clydesducktape @himbotroy @wigwitch @marvelousmermaid @over300books @raisuniverse @castleamc @darnitdraco @xjsteph @janebby @cannedsoupsucks @mtjoi @triggerhappyflygirl @tobealostwanderer @lightsinthedistancee @elinedjarin @meanperegrine @itssmashedavo @lemonlime09

So that white woman who was harassing that black lady in that mall really told the black lady not to record her mental break down? Weaponizing white tears and mental illness. Like let's talk about how white people do use their mental health and gender in order to get out of situations.

The worst part about this is that the black woman who filmed this all got her TikTok account suspended and is in need of a lawyer.

Here's the link to her GoFundMe!

Here's the first video of the attack. You can find the rest on her account.

Her Twitter also explains some details.

Her name is MAMAAFRICA275. That's her Twitter name, and I can't find her actual name anywhere so I'm using this. Please help and support.

Ooh, may I have # 18 on the soulmate prompt list with Marcus Pike, please? I'm very curious as to what sort of animals show up and where it's gonna happen! 💕

Thanks so much for the request! I really love the idea of this universe, and there are so many possibilities! I had to think long and hard about what kind of animal Marcus might have, before I settled on the bloodhound - loyal, gentle, determined, it's ability to sniff out leads... that ones a bit of a stretch but I stand by it lol Also how can you say no to either of their faces?! I hope you enjoy it! Soulmate AU prompt list here can be found here!

Marcus Pike x Reader, Soulmate AU where everyone has a "soul animal" that only they and their soulmate can see

The hallway outside your apartment was littered with boxes and furniture, a team of movers working to get everything inside and placed. They nodded apologetically at you as you maneuvered through the maze they had created but you waved off their worries. You had heard someone was moving into the vacant apartment across the hall and apparently today was the day. You hovered near the open door to the apartment, considering popping in to introduce yourself to the new tenant. From the doorway, you tried to watch for someone who didn’t have the same uniform as the other movers, but no one passed your field of view.

One of the movers was hanging a large piece of art on the far wall. The painting took up the majority of the open space, a swirl of colours but mostly red and yellow. It was more abstract than anything, and you wondered if it had any particular meaning. A dog sat a few feet behind the mover, watching intently as he worked. It was nearly comical that the dog seemed to be supervising the mover, like he was worried something would happen to the painting.

Almost like it sensed a new presence, the dog turned over its shoulder to spot you. It stood right away, his long jowls and wrinkles swaying as he faced you. Before you could greet the dog, he barked one low woof at you.

The stoat on your shoulder startled at the bark. You felt it uncurl itself from where it was happily laying, perking up on its hind legs to stare at the dog. It started chirping angrily at the large, wrinkly bloodhound. You learned over the years to follow the instincts your soul animal had, so you backed out of the apartment, leaving the dog alone. You wondered why the slow-moving creature had aggravated your little stoat, trying to get it to settle down as you made your way to the elevator. Aspen, as you had named it when your family had gone skiing when you were young, eventually stopped chirping and squeaking, but it seemed on edge for the rest of the day. You wondered if the dog was mean, or if your stoat was picking up on the energy of its owner. You hoped your new neighbor wasn’t going to be hard to live near.

You didn’t see the newest occupant of your floor for a few days afterwards. The movers and clutter were gone, so you assumed they were settling in, possibly even sorting out their routine. Things like commuting to work, where the nearest stores were. Moving somewhere new was a lot of work. Despite not seeing them, Aspen still seemed extra on alert anytime you passed their door.

You were standing in the hallway, unlocking the door to your apartment, when you heard the sounds of another lock being opened. Before you could turn towards the sound, wondering if you were finally going to meet your new neighbor, your soul animal had skittered down off your shoulder. You watched as it bounded towards the opening door, stopping only when a man stepped into the hallway.

“Hi there,” you called over to catch his attention.

He looked up at you, seemingly startled but he quickly recovered with a polite smile. “Hello.” He greeted, adjusting the hamper on his hip. He was wearing a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, clearly on his way down to do laundry.

“You must be the new neighbor.” You pointed out before giving him your name.

“Marcus.” He introduced himself, closing the door now that the bloodhound had toddled out beside him.

“What’s your dog’s name?” You asked, curious.

Marcus seemed to freeze on the spot, looking at you with wide eyes. You faltered under his spooked gaze, almost wondering if you had said something other than what you had meant to.

The stoat on the floor started chirping at the dog, kicking it’s little feet. You had never seen it get this worked up before. You frowned, worried that this man and his dog really meant trouble. His bloodhound looked at your stoat, tilting its head curiously before letting out a lone bark.

Your own eyes widened as you watched the stoat move closer, the bloodhound sniffing at the ground as it took cautious steps forward. You had never seen an animal react to your stoat before, you thought only you could see your soul animal-

“You can see Silver?” Marcus gaped, slowly setting down his hamper.

It took a second for you to catch up. The dog could see your stoat, your stoat could see the dog, you shouldn’t be able to see the dog-

“Silver is your soul animal?” You breathed.

The bloodhound had lowered it’s head to the ground, showing submission to the stoat. Apparently pleased, your stoat closed the gap, sniffing directly at Silver’s nose. Silver’s tail began wagging as he patiently let the smaller creature examine him.

“And that…” Marcus pointed, apparently having not seen your animal until he was no longer holding the hamper.

“Aspen,” you filled him in on the name you had given your soul animal as a child.

“Aspen is your soul animal.” Marcus stated.

You watched in disbelief as Aspen climbed up on top of Silver, sniffing at the dog’s fur on it’s back once it was there. Silver looked over one shoulder then the other, trying to keep an eye on the tiny creature. His tail kept wagging even as he tried to locate it.

You looked away from the animals, meeting Marcus’ eyes properly for the first time. He was looking at you with soft, brown eyes. Even in the short distance between the two of you, you could see the shine of hope and affection he wore on his sleeve. You’d never been looked at quite like that before.

You smiled shyly under the attention. Marcus was attractive, and you could tell under his lounge clothes that he was fit. You had just returned from running errands, sunglasses pushed on top of your head, lazy sandals on… You wondered what Marcus thought of you.

“I, uh…” You started nervously. “If I knew I was meeting my soulmate today, I would have dressed up.” You joked, trying to ease the tension.

Marcus smiled brightly, a dimple showing on his right cheek. It was absolutely adorable. “No, that’s a perfect outfit to wear to dinner.”

“Dinner?” You frowned, quirking an eyebrow in confusion.

“Unless you already ate…” Marcus backtracked, starting to look a bit like a wounded puppy. You had to grin, already beginning to understand his soul animal. Even if you had, how could you say no? Those eyes were going to get you into all kinds of trouble, you could tell.

“Dinner sounds great.”

Marcus’ smile shone once more, relieved you'd accepted his invitation, although it fell quickly only a moment later. “Any recommendations? I don’t really know the area yet.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“I’ll take care of it.” You nodded. “Meet me back here in 5?”

He picked up his hamper, resting it on his hip as he opened his door once more. “Make it 3.”

Having noticed Marcus opening the door, Silver stood up. He shook his head, his jowls wagging back and forth. Aspen jumped ship, choosing to jump off instead of being thrown off the larger dog. It chirped in annoyance of being dislodged from the bloodhound’s back. The stoat seemed to already be pretty attached to the slow, lazy dog.

“See you in three.”

Tagging @wickedfrsgrl​ @din-damn-djarin​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata @phoenixhalliwell @vonschweetz​ @insideafictionaluniverse​ @driedgreentomatoes​ @computeringturtle​ @spideysimpossiblegirl

insp.

Please sign and share this petition, please, please for this unarmed man who was shot at 95 times by POLICE OFFICERS.

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Justice for Jamarion Robinson