#catfish stories

[fizzytoo]

quick stop at the gift shop before the next destination!

[pedroscurls]

chance encounters | pt. 1

character(s): Benny Miller, fem!Reader, (very) brief cameos from the rest of the Triple Frontier boys at the end summary: You've lost your way after losing your best friend in a tragic car accident. So, you go back to the one sport that makes you feel closer to him. word count: 1.9k a/n: This story is very personal to me and pulled from some real-life experiences (maybe not exactly, but still). I know I said I wouldn't write anything within this time period with April being such a very emotional month for me, but I've found that this story is actually helping me through my grief. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading 🫶 warnings: very brief mentions of grief (which will be a reoccurring warning) series masterlist | ultimate masterlist

“Benny Miller. I’m the owner and potentially, your coach,” the man says with a charming smile. He’s tall, broad, built, and you can’t help but notice his deep blue eyes. There’s a sense of comfort that you feel when you look at him. He’s dressed in red shorts and a white t-shirt with a dark cap placed backwards on his head and you can see the dark blonde curls peeking out from underneath it. “Welcome to Miller MMA Gym.” 

“Hi,” you finally respond, saying your name to introduce yourself. Your hand grips the strap of your duffle bag that was placed over your shoulder. You feel slightly out of your element even though this is your comfort zone. Fighting is your comfort zone. 

“Nice to meet you. Let me give you a tour of the gym and then we can sit down and go over your goals and everything else. Sound good?”

“That sounds good,” you repeat. “Thanks.” 

Benny spends the next twenty minutes giving you a tour of his gym and you can tell just from the sound of his voice that he loves this sport and he has put a lot of thought into creating a gym where he can share with other like minded people. There are black mats in the entirety of the building with thick, red outlines at the edges. There are about seven heavy bags lined up along the wall with an octagon cage towards the back of the building. The gym is small, cozy, and it makes you feel like it’s a place where you belong. 

“This is a really nice gym you got, Benny.” 

“I know it’s not as big as other MMA gyms. We don’t have all the fancy equipment, the extra free weights, but I like that it’s small. Plus, I don’t just let anyone train here.”

“Oh?” you ask, brow arching. “So, I’m guessing this is a bit like a consultation?”

Benny nods. “I want to make sure we’re a good fit. This sport…” he sighs. “I want people who are dedicated, who will push themselves to the limit, you know? I don’t want to waste your time and I certainly don’t want you to waste mine.” 

“Makes sense,” you agree.

He removes his sandals and steps onto the mat. You follow him and set your duffle bag down, your feet touching the cushioned mats and your gently bounce on your toes before you sit down in front of him.

“How long have you trained for?” 

“Never actually had a coach or joined a gym like this, if I’m being honest. My best friend,” you sigh shakily. “He used to fight, was an amateur though. He taught me everything I know and always encouraged me to pick up the sport too.”

“So, what changed?”

“He died.” 

Benny offers you a solemn look. He bites the inside of his cheek and nods. He knows grief all too well and he had known the minute you stepped into his gym that there was something lingering within you, something that you wanted to keep hidden. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. You had grown tired of hearing that. Why would they be sorry? What could they even do about it? It simply frustrated you. “Anyway, fighting’s always been something I felt comfortable doing and I don’t want to join an MMA gym where it’s all ego and trying to one-up one another.”

“I’m glad you said that,” Benny adds. “I’ve been to gyms like that and I fuckin’ hate it. I mean, we’re all there because we love the same sport. It can get competitive and sparring can get really bad… Which is why I like doing these consultations before even making a commitment with someone. I don’t want my gym to be like those.” 

You nod, the corner of your lips lifting only slightly, but as quickly as it rose, it drops. You always had to catch yourself whenever you felt an ounce of happiness or relief. It didn’t feel fair. It didn’t feel right to be happy when your best friend was gone. 

“Well, I want to fight, Benny. Competitively. I don’t know if I can even make it, but I want to try. Fighting is where I feel most at home.” 

Benny smiles. You see his blue eyes light up. Then, he reaches his hand back out to you. “Well then, welcome aboard. I’d love to have you, and I’d love to train you and be your coach.” 

The happiness flutters in your stomach and you force yourself to ignore it. You don’t smile at him, but your eyes - your eyes have always been so expressive. Your eyes soften when you look up at him, tears threatening to spill over, and you reach out to shake his hand. “I’d love that, Coach.” 

“Welcome to the team,” he grins. “Let’s see what you got.”

—

An hour and a half later and you’re dripping with sweat. You’re leaning back against one corner of the octagon, knees close to your chest as you rest your arms over them, trying to catch your breath. Benny didn’t waste any time assessing your abilities, but you welcomed the distraction and for the last hour and a half, you hadn’t thought about your best friend. 

“We got one more round,” Benny calls out. “Get back up, let’s go.” 

You let out a deep breath and nod, standing. You shake your arms to loosen them, feeling the fatigue slowly begin to settle in. You glance at the time and see it begin to count down. Once the round begins, the sound of a buzzer filters the small gym and immediately, you bring your hands to cover your face, standing in an orthodox fighter’s stance. 

Benny holds out the pads and calls out the following combinations:

Left jab, cross, left hook! 

Double jab, cross!

Right front kick, double left round kick!

Throughout the round, you’re moving in the cage, staying light on your feet and never crossing them. You don’t even notice the way Benny’s smiling down at you, so proudly and full of hope. 

“Alright, thirty seconds left!” Benny calls out. He notices how locked in you are, how focused, and he hasn’t seen someone as motivated in a first session as you. It gives him hope that you’re actually serious about competing. 

Left jab, right body kick! 

1-2 punch, left hook, right body kick! 

Again! 

By the time the round ends and the buzzer fills your ears, you’re breathing heavily, sweat dripping down your temples and the sides of your neck. 

“Holy shit,” Benny chuckles. “You’re amazing.”

“My stamina is shit,” you say breathlessly. 

“We’ll work on that,” he smiles. “Great job today.” 

You remove your gloves and sit back down, leaning against the same corner of the octagon as you begin to unwrap your hands. You see the initials on your wraps and you’re brought back to reality. You bring your hands to stroke your dampened hair back and away from your face, redoing the hair tie to pull your hair into a tighter ponytail. 

“That was– It felt like home,” you admit, looking up at him.

Benny chuckles and extends a hand for you. You take it and stand up, following him out of the octagon. “I’m excited about you, about this partnership. I think you’re gonna be great.”

You look at the time and realize that it’s already way past the normal business hours and quickly, you grab your duffle bag. “I didn’t mean to keep you here longer than you needed to be. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Benny says softly then adds, “I just realized we didn’t get to the paperwork side of things.” 

“I can come in tomorrow,” you say, draping the strap of the duffle bag over your shoulder. “And however much it is, I’ll pay it up front.”

Benny’s eyes widen. “Whoa, whoa, wait–”

“I’m serious about this, Benny. There’s nothing I want more than to fight and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to do that.” 

“Okay, tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock sound good?”

“Sounds great.” You shake his hand once more and he leads the both of you out of his gym. You look up at the sound of another man’s voice and see three other men - all of different statures - greet Benny with a smile. You don’t spend another second sparing each of them a glance, just now wanting to get home. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Benny calls out. “And I think I’ve got a great nickname for you.”

You toss your duffle back into the trunk of your car and shut it closed. You look over at Benny and notice all four men staring at you, but Benny’s the only one grinning. The other three, you notice, are staring at you with a look of hesitancy and curiosity. You take note that Benny’s the taller out of the four, but there’s another one that’s only a few inches shorter. He’s just as broad and built, the same blue eyes, but hair much shorter and slightly lighter. Then, your eyes veer off to the other two, your eyes lingering on one man in particular with a Standard Heating Oil cap placed atop of his curls. The other man standing next to him is the shortest, but he has just as big of a presence as Benny. His hair is greyer, but you have to wonder if it’s due to stress or if he’s much older than the rest of the group. 

“A nickname is too soon, don’t you think? You don’t really know me yet, Benny.”

Benny shrugs. “Let’s just call it a gut feeling.”

“Okay, so what’s the nickname?” 

“The Warrior,” he grins. 

You chuckle. You actually let out a laugh and for months, you had almost forgotten what it was like to laugh. It’s ironic really, almost like your best friend was taunting you from even beyond the grave. He had always called you his little warrior after everything you had been through and how you had never given up, always willing to fight your way through difficult hardships. But now… Now you can’t even imagine fighting your way out of this grief that has taken over your life. 

Benny then looks over at his friends, not realizing that he had forgotten to introduce them to you. “We can talk it over. I’m open to other nicknames, but it just seems right for you.” 

“We’ll see, Benny.” 

“By the way, these are my–”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Coach.” You interrupt him, not bothering to spare another glance at the other three men. You climb into your car and start it immediately, pulling out of the parking lot without another look at Benny or his friends. 

Benny turns to his friends and shrugs. “She’s got potential,” he begins. “I think she can make it big.”

“You say that about almost everyone, Ben,” Santiago chuckles. “Is she usually that… standoffish?”

“She just lost her best friend,” Benny sighs. 

“Damn,” Frankie mumbles. 

“And you think that it’s a good idea that she fights?” Will asks. “Emotions and all of that–”

“I think she needs this,” Benny admits. “And we all know how it is to lose someone close to us.”

“Does she–” Frankie sighs. “Does she have anyone else to rely on?” 

Again, Benny shrugs. “I just met her a few hours ago, but something tells me that she might be alone.”

“Fuck,” Santiago adds. “Well, is she any good?”

Benny nods. “Like I said, I think she can make it big.” 

“Well, whatever you need, we’ll be here,” Will says, clasping a hand over his younger brother’s shoulder. “Now, should we all get out of here and go get some drinks?” 

Santiago grins. “Yeah, let’s.” He nods in Frankie’s direction and adds, “Vamanos.”

[dancingtotuyo]

Home | Part 0.5

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x f!reader

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Frankie tells you he’s leaving.

Warnings/Tags: established relationship, girl dad!Frankie, swearing, fighting, drug addiction, recovery

Notes: a little prequel of sorts to this beautiful little story and family that I love.

Thank you to @fhatbhabie and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for putting your beautiful eyes on this baby!

Words: 1368

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist

When you see the headlights in the drive, you expect Frankie to stumble in on the shoulders of one of his buddies. You wait by the backdoor to silence them the moment they stumble in so they don’t wake the sleeping infant you spent an hour putting to bed. You don’t mind drunk Frankie or stoned Frankie. You like seeing him relaxed and enjoying himself. It’s coked out Frankie you worry about. It flashes before you each time he heads out for an evening.

You trust his friends. They’ve been through literal war together. It’s him you worry about. You worry he’ll slip away from the group. It only takes minutes- seconds even.

The headlights shine across the worn siding for too long before they cut off and Frankie rounds the corner, perfectly stable on his two feet. He stops between the house and the truck, cell phone pressed to his ear. He pinches the bridge of his nose, removes his hat from his head and runs a hand through the curls before putting it back on his head. You can’t make out his words through the door, but you recognize the cadence. He’s speaking spanish. A hand lands on his hip as he turns, eyes landing on yours. He stills. Then turns away. A pit settles in your stomach.

It settles in your bones.You know who he’s talking to. You’re not going to like what he has to say. When he turns around, you’re not there anymore.

You know before the back door squeaks open. It’s always two knocks on the side of the house, three stomps on the doormat. Your hands are submerged in steaming, sudsy water as you work through the ever piling mountain of dirty dishes.

Frankie hears it as he eases out of his boots, the extra clink as each dish is placed on the drying rack. Each one sends a cringe through his body. He stands in the doorway between the mudroom and kitchen, watching you under the single kitchen light. Your shoulders are tense. He catches the flashes of rage from your eyes off your reflection in the window.

“Have a good night, Fransisco?” Your back stays turned to him.

He closes his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. “Fuck.” He practically mouths.

One plate hits another with enough force to break it if it weren’t Corell.

“Layla asleep?” He cautiously works his way toward you.

“It’s after midnight.”

The dish rack rattles again.

“Baby…”

You drop the silverware in your hand, spinning to face him. “You said you were done!” Your wet hands hit against his chest. “We agreed no more!”

Frankie captures your hands, holding them to his chest. The water seeps into his shirt. Tears prickle your vision. He’s not sure what to say, other than you’re right. “I’m sorry.” It scratches his throat as it comes out.

“That’s it? That’s all I get?”

“It’s seventeen grand,” He says. “Just recon. I’ll be back in a week.”

You scoff, pulling away from him. “It’s never just anything with the five of you. Never just one with you.” You don’t even try to hide your tears, your fears.

Frankie swallows. He should shut up. He really should. He won’t be able to convince you. He knows that. It’s like coke, always telling himself no more and just one more. One more won’t hurt. It’s a weak argument, but it’s all he’s got left. He’s not excited about this. You can see it in his eyes. He doesn’t want to go, but you know you won’t be able to talk him out of it.

“They need a pilot.”

“And Layla needs her father!” You yell. You want to scream it until the walls rattle and Pope rescinds the offer.

It falls quiet, a silent war raging between the two of you. He tries to step forward, grab your hand, but you step back out of reach. Then, Layla’s wails raise.

“Fuck,” You sigh, shoulders falling in defeat.

“I can-”

You put your hands up to stop him. “I think you’ve done enough, Frankie.”

He sighs as you walk away from him. Layla’s cries slowly fade away. Frankie clenches and unclenches his fists over and over. He wants to punch a wall or kick a chair. He wants to yell at the world as his heart tears between his entire world sitting in the bedroom and his duty to his brothers. He wishes Santiago had never come back and dragged him back into a world that makes him feel like he’s drowning.

The need courses through him, soothing all the rest. It’s unnerving how it sneaks up and pushes the rest of the world away. Rubbing his hands together, Frankie chews on his lip. His eyes flicker to the back door and then down the hall to your closed bedroom door. It would be so easy to slip out. He licks his lips. You would never know.

He’s so close to doing it. In two long strides across the kitchen, he could grab his truck keys. He passed his dealer in the same alleyway as always, a strip mall 8 minutes down the road. His muscles twitch as he almost follows his thoughts, but Layla’s sweet squeal echoes down the hallway, gluing him to the floor.

His body screams at him. The next high is only 8 minutes away. Another precious giggle. Your tired laugh follows, Nails dig into his palm. Layla is 8 steps away.

He can’t move.

He doesn’t move.

He stands there in the kitchen light for hours. Finally, his heartbeat evens out. His feet break free, carrying him to the shower where he grapples with his choices. He’s going to South America. You’re mad. He’s going back on his promise. It repeats in his head until the water runs cold, kicking him from its comfort.

He eases into your room, the soft hall light casting a warm glow over your face until the door clicks behind him. He drops his clothes in the hamper, tosses his hat in the direction of the dresser.

He looks down at Layla sleeping. He can’t make out the rise and fall of her chest in the dark. His anxiety sparks until he touches her back and it’s there steady and rhythmic.

He’s careful not to disturb you as he crawls into bed. His old ARMY shirt rides up around your thighs. You still carry the baby weight, particularly around your stomach and thighs, and it drives Frankie insane. He’s constantly fighting the urge to grab the extra parts of you. He loves it.

His rough palms slide over your thighs. Slipping under the shirt, he rests his hand in the soft folds of skin just above your underwear. He presses a kiss to the crook of your neck. Cool water droplets fall from his wet curls.

You inhale sharply, chest quivering as you let it out. Frankie pauses, holding his breath in anticipation. He assumed you were fast asleep.

It's quiet between you. The box fan roars in the window, pushing the humid Florida air around. The red alarm clock number changes. His brain shuts off as he waits for you to speak, to tell him to leave and not come back.

“When do you leave?”

Frankie’s muscles release slightly. His fingers trace little pictures along your stomach. “Thursday.”

You nod, staring straight ahead. You won’t cry. You refuse. “Just a week?”

“Just a week.”

You turn to face him, hands cupping his face. “You promise?”

He brushes the back of his hand across your cheek. “I promise.”

“I mean it, Frankie.” A choke bites at your throat. You push it down. “I can’t do this alone. We need you.”

The tears that sting your eyes finally fall. Frankie presses his forehead to yours, hand cupping the back of your neck. “I promise, baby.” He mumbles into your skin. “Just recon. 7 days.”

You nod, arms slipping around his waist. You beg for his proximity. He obliges.

He whispers the promises to you in English and Spanish over and over until your eyes fall shut. As they do, you can’t escape the sinking feeling that he’ll break every single one.

[dragonbma]

I can’t stop laughing at this freaking catfish-

[smaeemo]

My aunt: OHoho summertime, I bet you party a lot.

Me who just watched fish videos and read fanfiction for the past 20 hours straight: Haha, yeah totally

[cxlandine]

it's so funny that fig was going to spare ruben if she could 'connect with him' GIRL, YOU'VE BEEN CATFISHING HIM ALL SEASON AND JUST KILLED HIS FRIEND. i love emily's meta perspective of 'you wasted MY time by not being manipulated into letting me kill your friends! you know how long i spent on that psychological torment? how dare you cast a spell on me!' because she really put in the work with this but yeah of course he's going to psychic scream after being haunted by an illusion he fell in love with all year!

[simazinblr]

Spring Break - Meeting “Eric” (Part 2)

“Eric’s” Doorstep

“I’m Erin, his brother.”

Kodi’s mind spun. She’s staring at the guy she believed was her love, but he's saying it was his brother. She exchanged a confused look with Malaysia, who raised an eyebrow.

Malaysia: If you’re not him then where the hell is he? Who the hell is he?

Erin let out a sigh then motioned for them to come inside.

Erin: This has gone on long enough.

[themintman]

Idk if it's the autism or what, but the way the text options in the sea temple gaslit me is wild. Like when Jack is apologising for freezing up when he stumbled upon his friends corpse and I tried to be supportive but accidentally ripped him a new one. Jesse why did you make me say that.

[olysmile]

𝐀 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 🎭

‼️On this story all the names will be fake for obvious reasons. I also wanna apologize if I do any mistakes with my English because the story will be big and English isn’t my first language. Thanks for the understanding‼️

Let’s go back to 2021. We had quarantine and all social media platforms were on fire, since everyone was using them. This was the time me and my sister, Marlena, opened an account on discord.

The reason I mainly opened the account was to join on a server of my favourite gamers and stay updated and also make friends. And as it seems, I did. I started talking to the voice channels with my sister, and I met some people there, including my online bffs, Karen and Violet. One day, another girl we were talking with, Elisa, introduced us to her online girlfriend, Courtney. She was some years older than her, and if you want me to make it more specific, Elisa was a minor and Courtney was an adult. We were talking really often with them until we found out that they broke up. Elisa was devastated with that heartbreak and she was trying to get Courtney back… But someday, Courtney’s sister texted her and told her that she killed herself. All of us on the gc we had made were in total shock. We couldn’t believe that something like that happened(if only we knew….)

Many months later (2022) Elisa informed us that Courtney was back. Surprisingly, she never died. She indeed attempted suicide, but she didn’t make it to death. She also told us that she had moved to Brooklyn (she was half American) and she changed her name to “Kate”… For a weird reason, all of us moved past that faster than we should and we started talking again. Someday, me and the other girls were on a call and she joined. She told us that she wanted to introduce us to her new girlfriend, who also happened to be a singer(I can’t say her name sadly). We told her that she surely can bring her, but she told us she was too shy to talk and she was on mute. They also told us that we shouldn’t tell anyone about their relationship because of the girl’s fame. And some weeks after… “Kate” and her girlfriend disappeared again….

…And now things are getting interesting…

Even after their disappearance, I was still following the singer’s tik tok account… I was scrolling through her old videos, watching some videos from a trip she’s been with her BOYFRIEND…

That video was posted the time she and Courtney/Kate were still dating…. I was incredibly confused about how in the world was that possible… was she a cheater, or something else I couldn’t explain? For once again, I didn’t pay much attention….

A year after, on Summer 2023, me and Marlena met Karen and Violet for the first time. We were sitting on a cafeteria and Karen was talking about how things are going to that gaming server we met back then… She is working as a moderator there and she was talking to us about the other members of the staff team. She told us that there was a new girl who would work with them. A girl who was half Korean and her name was pronounced “Tzyhio”. Karen told us that something wasn’t ok with that girl. She was completely sure that her voice sounded exactly like Courtney’s/Kate’s…. We couldn’t do much about this back then, because we didn’t have anything to prove that.

And now we move to 2024….

Karen and Violet, who were more active on discord than me and Marlena, were telling us that everything about Tzyhio were completely off. Tzyhio was known for being a police officer in Seoul, working at the department of Drug Enforcement. She was a woman in her mid 20s , who has as her bestie another moderator from that server named Lily. Also, Lily was dating Tzyhio’s Greek cousin for a while. Her name was Mary.

Let me tell you a funny story from the time they were dating. Lily had a meetup with another moderator, Gloria and the staff manager, Martin. They were taking some cool pictures together as all the online friends do when they meet up, and Gloria received a text from Mary, telling her to be careful with how she acts around Lily.

At first we thought it she just got jealous. But later Violet found some old texts from a group chat on instagram and that she was texting this account… but on that time, this account didn’t belong to Mary. It belonged to Courtney/Kate.

So without further ado, the whole July 2024, me, Marlena, Karen, Violet, Gloria, Elisa, Martin and some other friends of ours who were working on the server’s staff team, were trying to find proper evidence and prove that Courtney/Kate, the ‘singer girlfriend’, Tzyhio and Mary were all the same person.

We had evidence for everything. We already knew that the singer had a boyfriend, so there was no way to be able to date Courtney. Violet was texting Courtney from her old account on instagram, which turned out to be Mary.

Connecting all these with Tzyhio wasn’t that hard. All the photos she was sharing with the staff on their personal gc, were photos from a different person. In addition, the photos she was sharing of a woman wearing a police officer’s uniform, were edited. The name on the name tag was erased with a lame photoshop and was rewritten with her last name.

Here is an exapmle. If you look closer to that photo, you’ll see that it’s edited and that the name on this tag is covered:

When we found enough information that were valid to expose that girl, we talked to Lily. She didn’t know anything about it until Martin explained the situation to her. She was broken. She couldn’t believe that her best friend was a total psychopath. She was crying for hours. In the meantime, Martin talked to Tzyhio/Courtney. Of course he kicked her out of the staff team and they banned her permanently from the server. Later that day she texted Lily sending her an apology message, telling her that she did all these things because she wanted to be special. If you ask me, this was the stupidest thing I could ever hear.

This girl is definitely sick and she needs help from an expert. We don’t know where she is now or if she’ll ever appear again with another name and persona. If we get any news, we’ll surely get you informed.

The only thing I want to say to everyone reading this: Don’t trust anyone completely on the internet. You can’t be sure about what they are capable of….

[pettyprocrastination]

Idle Hands

Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

My secret Santa gift for the ever lovely @floralpascal I do hope this follows your prompt well and that you enjoy it! Big thank you to @humanransome-note for being my editor+beta reader on this one at like 1 am lol. Also a huge thank you to @pedrostories for putting together this amazing event to begin with!!! <3

Summary: Frankie goes to you when he needs his clothes altered and each time has a revelation each time he sees you work. 

Warnings: fluff, light self doubt, lots of talk about hands I just really like hands okay. Friends to lovers babeyyyy

word count: 1.2k

________

     Frankie’s clothes never fit him right. 

     The sleeves of shirts hung just a touch too long on him, but going a size under meant they’d squeeze around the bulk of his shoulders in a way that made him worry it would tear (it did. On a first date, it was very embarrassing for him). Trousers either gaped at his waist or had to be rolled up at the cuff because they were made for somebody taller, not wider to properly fit his legs. 

     But he didn’t complain, it gave him a reason to see you. 

     “It’s because clothes used to be made for the body specifically.” You told him, needle in hand as you sat at a table and pushed it through the cuff of his pants. “Everything was tailor made to your measurements, but nowadays we just buy off the rack and hope it fits right.” 

     “Or we take it to our incredibly talented friend who hems our pants in return for dinner?” 

     Sometimes he hopes they don’t fit right, just so he can see you smile. 

     “Yeah, that’s always an option too.” 

     His mother has always told him that love was found in one’s hands. Holding the door open, taking their hand in yours when you crossed the street, the gentle cradling of their face when leaning in for a gentle kiss, it was everything. Small testimonies of love and care found in everyday moments that took root in the palms of a lover. 

     But Francisco's hands were scarred. His fingers were calloused from hard labor and would tremble until he curled them into fists and willed them to stop. They sweat horribly when he would get nervous, leading to him shoving his hands in his pockets and praying you never noticed. 

     If you did, you said nothing of it. 

     But his hands weren’t good for nothing, despite the fact he considered them too rough for handling gentle things like you and the way his fingers fumbled with his keys, he was still skilled. 

     It was his hands that put in the new lock on your door after a series of break-ins took place in your neighborhood. The same fingers that fumbled with your birthday present are nimble and quick with the screwdriver in hand as he reassures you that it’ll be alright. They're the same ones that held you the night you got stood up for a date and wiped the tears from your face as he told you any man who can’t show up for you isn’t worth your fucking time. The same hand that settles on the small of your back each time you walk through a crowd together, the gentle reminder of his presence when you felt everything else closing in. 

     I’m here. You're safe. 

     “These are new.”      “I’m sorry?” 

     You lift your head from your work table and hold up the pair of slacks in your hand he had brought for you to hem. All black with a fine finish, something you’d wear to a wedding. 

     The same pair he stared at in the store for fifteen minutes before finally biting the bullet.

     “The pants, I’ve never seen you wear them before.” 

     His hands curl, thumb pressing against the flat of his pointing finger until he hears a soft “pop” from the joint and moves to the next in hopes to keep his mind off the fact that your thumb is running along the inseam of one pant leg, a gentle back and forth, back and forth, that he’s not sure you even know you're doing it, but it's enough to make his lungs feel tight and head full of cotton. 

     “Right, they're uh, they're new.” 

     Middle finger. 

     Pop. 

     Ring finger. 

     Pop. 

     Pinkie. 

     Pop. 

     “They're real nice.” 

     “You think so?” 

     “You’ll look real sharp in those, Frankie. You got something special coming up?” You look beautiful. Your eyes are focused on your hands that weave the needle in and out of the fabric with such ease it reminds him of a conductor. There's something about it. The way your arm moves up and down, the gentle flick of your wrist when it pulls the needle through. Each separate movement that melts into one another like a connected dance. Maybe Frankie was just reading too much into it. Maybe it had just been far too fucking long since he went on a date and he was so starved he got to the point of romanticizing tailoring. Maybe he just really liked your hands. 

     Maybe, he just really liked you. 

     “Nothing in particular.” 

     You snip the end of the thread, tying it with quick flitting fingers before smiling at him over your shoulder. 

     “Well let me know when you do, I’d like to see you get all fancy.” 

     He scratches at the back of his neck. 

     “You just want a reason to get me out of my work clothes.” 

     There's a moment in every hug from Francisco Morales. From the moment you first met him to years later you can name it down to the very second it happens. A split second before he pulls away from you where his hand settles on your waist and curls in ever so slightly, squeezing you to his chest so softly that by the time you notice he’s already pulling away and telling you “have a good one.”

     It’s the moment you want to continue. For his hands to stay on your waist and keep him flush to your chest, where you’d finally find the bravery to mumble out those words you’ve kept locked away for the past four years because you don’t know what you’d do after there or. Or what he’d do. Christ, you don’t want to imagine it. 

     So instead you bite your tongue. You hold back the confession that’s been nested in the crevice of your ribs since you first met him and savor the feeling of his hands on your waist and the little “mmm.” he does every time you give him a hug that just makes you feel lightheaded.

     He’s halfway down the driveway when he stops in his tracks. Snipping something under his breath to himself before turning on his heel and pointing at you. 

     “Are you uh, are you free? This Friday?” 

     His hands were shaking. 

     “Yeah. Yeah, I’m free.” 

    So were yours. 

     “I was thinking we could get dinner. It’ll give me a reason to wear these, you know?”  He holds up the pair of pants in his hands and smiles. “Plus, I’ve been meaning to ask you out for a long time. I only have so many clothes for you to fix.” 

     Francisco learned that his hands were full of love. 

     His hands could pull out your chair, pour you wine with a steady grasp. They’ll gesture during conversation that seemed to last for hours and drape his coat around your shoulders in the night air.  Cradle your face when he kissed you goodnight and grip your waist when you pulled him in for another. They could hold you together and pull you apart all in the same night. 

     You saw the trembles in his fingertips without shame. Your lips pressed kiss after kiss to the rough skin of his palm without flinching and wrapped your hands with his each time you saw the world closing in on him, refusing to let go or be pushed away. 

     You saw his hands for what they were. An extension of the man they belonged to. One with scars and tremors that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to hide them. 

     But you held him nonetheless.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

I just had a really weird experience with a dating app and I don't know what's real anymore.

I matched with a cute girl earlier today, and we spent a couple hours talking about our shared interests in podcasts and history and weird niche topics nobody else cares about. It was nice, and I asked her if she wanted to get lunch sometime this week. She said she'd like that, but then immediately changed the subject to talk about her job instead of scheduling the date. I mean, that's not TOO weird, I figure she must have wanted to say no but didn't want to hurt my feelings. Whatever. No big deal. We keep talking.

She mentioned that she works as a medical scribe at a doctor's office, and I said that that sounds like a wizard's apprentice. She said that medicine is the intersection between science and magic. I replied with a throwaway joke that chemistry is just alchemy with a little flair, and then shit went off the rails because she sent me a link to a pornhub video titled "We came at the same Time - Sensual Side Fuck" and said "me when someone tells me they're an alchemist."

A cute girl sends me a literal porn link after dodging the question of whether she wanted to go on a date, so I'm confused as hell. I don't know if this is her way of flirting or what, so I replied "I'd be down to practice some alchemy if you're not busy." I regretted saying it immediately because I never talk to anyone like that, I was just blind sided by the porn and thought maybe she would think it was funny. Well, after a few minutes she says "did you just ask to fuck me?"

Okay, I'm going down in flames, I crossed a line, that alchemy "joke" was inappropriate and creepy and she's clearly not into it and she's probably gonna unmatch me and block me and report me or something. I'm still confused over the direction the conversation is going, but I decide it'd be better if I apologize and go on the defensive instead of doubling down like a jackass. I tell her "no, not really," I'm not soliciting a stranger for sex, I was just yes-anding. She sent a porn link. What was I supposed to say? How was I supposed to respond?

Another few minutes pass. I was 100% sure that when I reopened the app she would be gone, but no, she finally replied "I was hoping you were..."

What kind of mind game is this? Is she just looking for a hookup? Her profile specifically says she's not! I have no idea what's going on.

"Did you just ask to fuck me?" My honest answer would have been "yes, isn't that what you wanted?" but the thought of saying that to somebody makes me feel like a douchebag. Her tone with that question didn't sound flirty, it sounded accusatory, like she was outraged I had the audacity to ask for sex so soon. My social anxiety is going through the roof. Whoops, turns out she actually WAS flirting and DID want to have sex, and I've managed to waffle it and sound like an asshole no matter what I say. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

From my perspective:

Her: *posts meme about sex* (it's just a meme, nothing more. Don't read into it)

Me: *flirty memey response* (could go either way; I'm not outright saying I want to have sex with her, I'm just matching her energy. She memes about sex, I reply in kind because I thought it would be weirder go ignore it)

Her: oh my god, did you really just say that? Did you really think I wanted to have sex with you?

Me: I'm sorry, I overstepped

Her: mind games, dumbass! You don't know what I want, motherfucker!"

From her perspective:

Her: our conversation is going well, let me drop a big hint that I want to hook up

Me: picks up on the hint

Her: really?

Me: NO!

Her: oh... okay... nevermind...

So then I take a step back and try to see if there's any way whatsoever to salvage this dumpster fire of a conversation. I admit that I'm confused and ask her point blank if she wanted to have sex. I legitimately don't know if she was making a move or not, and I need her to know that I'm not the kind of guy who asks for sex as an opening move but I'm not opposed to it if she's the one bringing it up. There's no way to fix this. I failed at this interaction. I need to cut my losses, but somehow we keep talking.

She says, quote "I like making art and love. Sometimes at the same time, ya know?"

I say "do you want to make love?"

She says "we probably should."

I ask her if she'd like to get something to eat first, as was my initial date plan before the porn thing. Her response confused me even more. "I can't right now. I'm exhausted from traveling all weekend. I haven't eaten and feel like I'm gonna pass out." That reply doesn't make sense. It's Wednesday and she says she's too hungry to get dinner. That's when I noticed that her previous message ended with a period.

"We probably should," period. I scrolled back up through our conversation and realized that EVERY message she sent me ended with a period. Every single one! Oh, and some of them weren't even direct responses to anything I said, so now I'm 1000% convinced that she's a bot. I got tricked into talking for three hours with a bot, and I derailed the scam by rolling a nat 1 critical fail when it tried to sext me.

I ask "her" point blank when she wants to meet up, and it said "I need to eat first. Make food, not war, lol. Where are your top places to grab food?"

Bot. Almost certainly a bot.

My final reply, in the extraordinarily small off chance that she's not a bot, was to say it depends on my mood, before losting three or four of my go-to places.

"She" didn't unmatch, but she ghosted me. No reply.

Bot. Absolutely a bot. No doubt about it.

TLDR, I got catfished by a bot!

[disabledalliums]

We have been watching analog horror while working on our crochet and why in so many of them does a guy just record something random. like a kid in the 80s on a farm wouldn't be like "oh i heard the dog barking at 2 am time to grab out my camera!" Especially if the video found on a vhs tape. Do you know how fucking massive they are? And expensive too.

As well all the "ohhh every day 1028983 people go missing in a small town ooooohhh!" it just isn't interesting. like oh no, large undefinable being that has come to destroy the human population! what ever will we do! is so repetitive that it doesn't lend itself to a face of fear anymore, like how marvel movies always have a world ending threat. It isn't interesting and really repetitive. Sometimes you gotta have more small-scale threats that are still dangerous. Focus on more local and small sized horror. Maybe theres a monster in a small town that is attacking and scaring the residents, or how about a messed up news broadcast, or how about a family that is being tormented by a monster?

This isn't saying you can't use either of these tropes but maybe try to branch out a bit? Diversify what you are making in the genre so it stands out more, there are so many analog horror series where its just "Thing came from space, and its evil and will destroy the world!" There has got to be some local legends and stories that can make for an interesting plot, if you can't think of any look for them! Especially if its a small town following a group or family, you will grow attached to the person you are following the point of view of and so you become scared for them

[pedroscurls]

Third Time’s A Charm (Part 1).

Character(s): Frankie “Catfish” Morales , Reader (female, second person POV) Summary: There is history between you and Frankie. In fact, you have both broken up twice and yet, you still seem to find your way back to each other. Could this third chance be the last and final one? Word Count: 2,339 Author's Note: And we’re here! Frankie Morales officially has my heart. I’m so excited for you all to read what I have in store for this story. We’re in for a ride. Please note that this story will have mentions of drug use / addiction and PTSD, but I will give a warning for each chapter. Happy reading!  Warning: None.

Right person, wrong time. You and Frankie knew that concept all too well. You both could never get the timing right, but the amount of love you two shared never faded. It always lingered, always gave you both a feeling that maybe one day, it would work out. You left it in the universe’s hands at that point, a firm believer that if it was meant to be, you will find your way back to each other. 

But after he got married, you started to keep your distance. It hurt too much to be around him. You shared so much history with Frankie and being around him, seeing him with another woman that wasn’t you, just didn’t feel right. 

Yes, you both still talked, still checked in with each other, but the conversations became less and less frequent. 

You never did get along with his wife, part of the reason being that she didn’t like that Frankie was still friends with a woman he had been in a relationship with… Twice. 

So, when Santiago showed up on your doorstep one afternoon, you were surprised to say the least. It had been a little over a year since you spoke to the other man, having heard from Will that he had been in Colombia. 

But here he was. A smile on his face paired with warm and kind eyes. Santiago was Frankie’s best friend. In fact, he was the reason why you and Frankie had been in a relationship to begin with. He had set you both up on a blind date after believing that you and Frankie would make a great pair, and Santiago wasn’t wrong. 

You and Frankie were both shy at the beginning of the date, teetering on being polite and also not knowing what to expect, but after a couple of drinks and a shared interest over planes, you both started to relax. 

It was truly one of the best dates you had ever been on and it only kickstarted the beautiful, yet painful relationship with Frankie. 

The first breakup was mutual, both too afraid to admit that this relationship could be something beautiful. The breakup only lasted four months before Frankie reached out to you, asking you out for a cup of coffee to see how you were doing. It didn’t take long before you both admitted that you still loved each other, that the feelings you shared hadn’t left. 

And so, you both tried to give it another shot. 

But the second breakup was painful. You and Frankie had been together for three years before the breakup. You had been accepted into a very competitive master’s program at a college in California, which was a dream you always had even before Frankie. The program would last for two years and you and Frankie had made the decision to end the relationship. 

You both agreed that you didn’t want to try a long distance relationship, afraid that it might just ruin the relationship you both built. 

“I love you,” he whispered. You both decided to end the relationship a month before you had to leave, not wanting to prolong the inevitable even further. 

“Will we ever get the timing right?” you asked.

Frankie didn’t know the answer to that. He hadn’t ever felt this way about someone and while this seemed so painful, to end a relationship without even trying to make it work, it made sense. He knew how important this program was to you, how passionate you were about teaching, about literature, that he couldn’t ask you to stay. It would be selfish of him to ask that of you. 

Frankie didn’t want to let you go, but he knew that he had to. 

“I guess we’ll find out,” he finally replied. 

“Two years…” you said quietly. “It’s only gonna be two years and I’ll visit for the holidays and–” 

Frankie shushed you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. He looked into your eyes for a brief moment before he scanned the rest of your features, memorizing every inch of your face, every freckle and mole… This seemed like goodbye. 

“Don’t,” he interrupted. “I mean, I want you to go to California without having to worry about me, about us.”

“I love you, Frankie…” 

“I love you too, baby.” Frankie was never someone who allowed himself to show emotions, to cry, but being with you had shown him that all he needed was a safe space, someone to show him that it was okay to feel things, to express how you were feeling. But right now, he didn’t want to show his pain, afraid that if you noticed it, you would put your dream on hold to stay here, in Florida, with him. “You’re going to be great.” 

“I’m gonna miss you.”

Frankie gently pecked your lips. “I’ll be right here when you get back, baby.”

But six months into your program, you had become so busy, so engrossed in your studies that Frankie had taken a backseat. You knew that he would be okay; he had Santiago, Will, Benny, and Tom. While he didn’t promise that he would wait for you, it still surprised you when you found out he was engaged and eventually married. 

Santiago and the rest of the guys always believed that you would come back from California and pick up right where you and Frankie left off. You had spent plenty of time with Frankie’s friends, hearing plenty of stories from their time in the military. You even felt like you were part of their group, teasing Santiago and Benny about the women they tried to pick up, confiding in Will when Frankie was in a slump, and even finding comfort in Tom’s presence. 

“Santi,” you finally said. “This is a surprise.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Had to come visit you,” Santiago smiled, pulling you into a hug. “How are you?” 

You took comfort in his embrace. It felt like forever since you felt this safe. Frankie and his group of friends always gave you that feeling, that sense of security. 

“I’m good,” you replied, pulling back and looking into his eyes. “I heard you’ve been in Colombia.”

“From Frankie?”

You shook your head. “From Will actually.”

Santiago nodded. You let him inside your apartment and shut the door behind you. You walked towards the kitchen, hearing his boots against your wooden floors as he followed you. 

“Have you talked to Frankie?”

You shook your head, grabbing two glasses to fill with water. “I haven’t talked to him in over a year. I talk to Will and Benny, though. I get my updates from them. Tom’s– He’s been dealing with the separation, so I haven’t spoken to him either.”

“You haven’t talked to Frankie in that long?” Santiago asked, surprised. 

“He’s married and his wife made it very clear that she isn’t comfortable with us talking, so out of respect, I decided that it would be best to keep my communication with Frankie limited.” You handed him the glass. “I hear he’s doing okay, though.”

“You know, us guys always thought it would be you two,” Santiago admitted, taking the glass of water from you and nodding his thanks. “You kept him grounded. Hell, you kept all of us grounded.” 

You smiled, shaking your head. “Yeah right. Keep you five men grounded? Sure, Santi.”

“I’m serious,” he smiled. “Having you around… It was nice. Frankie always told us–”

“Santiago,” you interrupted. “He has moved on. I still love him, still care about him, but he’s married.”

Santiago nodded. “Right, yeah. I’m sorry.” 

“So, what brings you by? Unannounced, by the way. You could have called.” 

He chuckled. “Beats the element of surprise.” 

You arched a brow, sitting across from him. “What’s going on?” 

And from there, Santiago told you about his plan about asking the guys to come back to Colombia with him. You had spent so much time with Frankie and the rest of the guys that their stories about their time in the military didn’t scare you. Instead, it made you sad, frustrated, angry for Frankie, Santiago, Will, Tom, and Benny that they had to endure what they went through only to be cast aside once they were retired veterans. 

Santiago’s plan sounded dangerous, but if they could pull it off, the reward would be worth it. But for the plan to work successfully, he needed Frankie, Tom, Benny, and Will to be on board. He needed all of them. 

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to react. You noticed that Santiago always had the ideas, never small, always big. He believed that he could get Lorea, while simultaneously seizing worth seventy-five million dollars. 

“What do you think? You think I can get all of them on board?” Santiago asked.

“I think that’s a big ask, Santi.” You sighed. You were sure that each man had something going on, but at the same time, you knew how tight knit this group was. You knew that if Santiago showed this much passion to the guys, then you knew that they would back him up. No matter what. “But you know them more than I do, so you tell me.”

Santiago nodded, looking around your apartment. “I bet with your help, I can convince them no problem.” 

“No,” you shook your head. “Santiago, I can’t.”

“Why not? You know all of us. We all love you, trust you, and–”

“Santiago,” you interrupted. “I believe in you… I believe in all of you, but–”

“This can be good for us,” he replied. “This money and getting Lorea? Not only will Colombia be safer, but the money can do a lot of good for us.”

“I don’t want the money. I’m not even going to Colombia, so I don’t think I should get any part of it.” You said quietly. “Besides, I can’t– I don’t want to be part of something this dangerous. You can all get hurt, or worse.”

“We won’t. We know what we’re doing. This will be easy compared to what we’ve done.” Santiago reached out for you, his eyes softening, pleading. “Listen, how about you just come by tonight? Benny’s fighting and I’m sure the guys will love to see you. It’ll be like old times.”

“Is Frankie going to be there?” 

“I don’t know,” Santiago lied. “Besides, if he is, I know he’d be happy to see you.” 

“Santi…”

“Please,” he said quietly. You could tell this meant a lot to him. This mission, giving back to the people of Colombia, to the guys who struggled after getting out of the military… You knew he needed this. 

“Fine,” you replied. “But only because I miss Benny’s fights.” 

He grinned in triumph, standing and pulling you into a hug. “I’ll pick you up tonight. We can go together.” 

“Okay, but the first round is on you.” 

—

You were sitting at the front, waiting for Santiago while he and Will went to the men’s locker room. You were drinking a beer, albeit very warm but alcohol nonetheless, as you watched the fights with little interest. The crowd was merely waiting for Benny, and so were you. In fact, you were waiting for Santiago and Will to come back out so that you wouldn’t have to be alone. 

There were a couple of men who had come up to you, trying to make small talk, but you had told them you weren’t interested. In fact, you haven't been in a serious relationship since Frankie. The man had set the bar so high that no other man could ever reach. Sure, there were a few that have tried, but you always ended it before it could get too serious. 

You were standing now, though, the crowd piquing your interest as you looked towards the cage to see two men, all bloodied and exchanging punches. While this would have deterred plenty of women, this was actually very exhilarating for you. You had always been a fan of mixed martial arts, so you had seen Benny’s fights whenever you got the chance. Luckily, every time you went, Frankie wasn’t there. 

The referee stepped in to stop the fight, the man on the ground visibly not defending himself. The crowd roared in excitement, chanting the name of the winner. A couple of minutes passed before the announcer began to announce the next fight. You heard Benny’s name and you cheered loudly, raising your arms in the air (with your beer in one hand). 

You glanced over at the end of the hall to see the door open. Benny walked out, wearing bright red trunks. His face was serious, focused, but you felt your heart skip a beat when you saw Frankie. He was walking alongside Santiago and Will, trailing behind Benny. 

Frankie was wearing a tan colored and brown collared jacket with a gray v-neck underneath. His jeans sat perfectly on his hips, paired with a brown belt, and boots. Your eyes skimmed him, finally noticing how his curls were tucked underneath his usual Standard Heating Oil hat. 

Benny looked over at you, chuckling to himself when he noticed who you were staring at. 

They stopped walking and you saw Tom join Santiago, Frankie, and Will, handing them each a cup of beer. Then, Santiago pointed in your direction. You made eye contact with him for a moment before watching Frankie turn around, his eyes finally meeting yours. 

His eyes instantly softened. 

Yours did too. 

And you both stood there, the crowd cheering Benny’s name beginning to fade out. 

You saw him and the rest of the guys walk over to you. When he was standing mere inches from you, he let out a small smile. You yearned to reach out for him, to hug him and have his arms wrap around you like before, but in the back of your mind, you remembered that the man standing before you was now married. 

He was off limits. 

“Hey,” Frankie said. “Long time no see, hermosa.”

--- 

Part 2.

[dancingtotuyo]

Dancing to Tuyo Master List

Javier Peña Masterlist | Scathed | Crossed Wires | "come here often?" | Better man | All Farms…

Joel Miller Masterlist | Woman | Landslide | High Infidelity | Build You the World | Ivy | Overtime

Marcus Pike Masterlist | Sage

Marcus Moreno | 12:32 PM

Dave York Masterlist | Kryptonite

Frankie "Catfish" Morales Masterlist | Home

[nyrarachelle-plays]

"Maybe She Could Be a Clown!"

Roger offers! The gifts are all open and the fam bam has spent the afternoon enjoying eachother’s company! Justine & Conner Welsh have managed to slip off (as usual if y’all only knew, they can’t keep their wicked whims off of one another 🫠).

The younger gen is now taking the heat! Roger’s cooking up some catfish and cornbread like his mom taught him years back, while his favorite ladies have offered to join him, safely from their seats! With that, conversation and kekeing around the kitchen ensues. He's joking of course, but Krystle's able to provide further reassurance (since she's the only one that can hear Kiera it seems), “don’t worry, boo, you’ll figure it out.”

Previously. (“And One for You, Too!”) | Next. (A Wholesome Dinner…)

[izzydaninja]

Summary: “I- I mean: our worlds are fractions of Green Hill… Pieces of the whole puzzle.” Nine’s shoulders shoot up as he nervously fidgets with his fingers, looking anywhere else, but at Sonic, who deflates.

“We’re… just parts of the friends he mentioned..?” Prim asks.

Sonic’s world begins to tip. He can’t save everyone…

Sonic takes a deep breath. “No.. There has to be a way for everyone to survive.”

Nine hesitates. “There isn’t. You’d have to be changing reality all together for that to even work.”

“This is my mess, and I’m gonna fix it.” Sonic states. “All of it.”

-Sonic gives everything to change the outcome. If his home world, and the Shatterverse both co-exist, something's gotta go, right? -

This is one of my (several) stories, that I've been working on recently. Updates won't be consistent, as it's already not that consistent, but I've gotten 4 chapters done so far, and hope anyone who's interested may like to check it out. :)