#screams frankie morales vibes

[softiedingo]

the soft smile ✅️ the eye crinkled ✅️ the glasses ✅️ the cap ✅️ the gray-haired beard ✅️ the Frankie Morales vibes ✅️

[jolapeno]

the book of love

frankie morales x f!reader (bookshop!au)

summary: wiping the back of his hand across his forehead, he looks at you. “I need a book.” “You… you need a book?” 

wordcount: 4k warnings: soft!frankie, meet cute, bookshop meet cute. romance. sweetness. kissing in a closed bookshop vibes.

Wednesday's don't usually bring strangers.

It brings boringness and drawn-out hours until you can lock the door and hope for a better day.

It's why he caught your eye the moment he walked in. 

Tall, handsome—cap pulled down—and his hands tucked into his pockets like he’s not sure what he’s doing. He’s broad, shoulders raised to his ears, and his spine so impossibly straight you wonder if he’s purposefully trying to make himself more on edge. 

Chewing the top of your pen, you observe him shuffle his cap again, trying to tuck himself away between tall shelving. Slowly suspecting it's not to hide his face, but rather to blend in. 

Escape.

He’d have been able to if he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. 

Everyone (local and just in the perimeter) knows this place. It’s the privilege of being around for decades. Having once belonged to your Aunt, and now to you. A place that had felt magical when you’d run around in pirate costumes and capes, words being read to you. Now, it was magical for other reasons. 

The shop was as much part of the town as the town was a part of you. A place you had once frequented in the holidays, before weekends when you could drive. Now, it was your everything. Your workplace, your business—your home. 

It’s why the shop practically screams to you when someone new enters its door.   

An anomaly in the usual.

Sometimes, there were a few. Inconsequential travellers, those who needed a book for their kid as they went from A to B, and sometimes a soul who needed a map to keep them from being lost. There have even been a handful of those looking to entertain themselves while they passed the time. 

There was a book for everyone.

A sentiment that has been instilled in you from the moment your aunt first let you stock shelves and earn pocket money. It’s why you give him several minutes alone, letting him wander, all aimless and without reason—worn leather boots sounding in the silence usually smothered by the radio (if the speakers hadn’t conked out this morning). 

It would be easier to focus on ordering, scanning down the new releases and ticking off the repeats.

Naturally, you chose the more difficult option—staring off, eyes landing on him, taking in how his features are prominent yet soft. His lips twist in confusion as he scans random shelves—a finger sliding over the spine before his eyes drop back to the tired wooden floor, moving to a new section. 

You tap your pen once, twice, thrice before you abandon it—casting it somewhere close to the register as you move from around the counter. Your hands clutching, tugging at the ends of your tee, pulling it down appropriately as you round a bookshelf and find yourself in front of him. 

And god, is he pretty. 

“Y’need a hand… sir?” 

It drops from your lips effortlessly. All well-practised from the dozen or so times you say it. But, it comes out squeakier than usual, higher pitched, all thrown off by the way his eyes swallow you whole, and his lips rise at the last addition to the sentence. 

“That obvious?” 

You smile—politely. Stemming back anything more, smothering the soft thudding of your heart against your ribs. “Well. You’re not from around here.” 

His lips tug further up on one side, the threat of a dimple set to show—a small laugh threatening to spill and spread across his features. It’s the fact he stares that allows you to continue doing so, to keep watching the way his eyes drink you in—both of you standing awkwardly in the non-fiction section of the tranquil and empty store. 

Whatever he wants to say, he chews on it. 

His hand pushes the bill of his worn hat up, scratching at his hairline, glimpses of curls gracing the top of his forehead before they’re hidden away once again. 

“How’d you know?” 

Shrugging, you adjust your stance. “Only bookshop in this town for decades, and you don’t know the layout.” 

“Maybe I like wandering around aimlessly.” 

It’s your turn to laugh. Louder than his—braver. “No. No, you don’t, but that’s cute. What’re you after?” 

“Something to keep my hands busy.” 

You blink back the comment on your tongue—the insinuation—trying not to glance down at the hand hanging at his side. The one so large, all thick-fingered and just dormant. 

Swallowing, you nod, absently pretending to think up a solution as you bite the inside of your cheek. “You thinking DIY, vehicle fixing or home renos?” 

“Not vehicles,” he says quickly—almost too quickly. 

“Alright, let’s see if DIY has something for you.”

It does. 

Your hands slide over spines as you read the titles until one hand envelopes yours—cocooning around yours on the edge of a book. 

That one. 

He said it much lower, eyes laser-locked on yours. 

When he’s paid, he lingers at the counter. Your mind still reeling from the warmth of his hand, the spark it sent up your wrist, to your shoulder and down your spine. 

It isn’t until he whispers a shy thanks, heading to the door before cautiously closing it behind him does your brain think of anything but his hands. Then it’s his smile—soft, almost lazily sent through the glass.  

A part of you, which is only bold when the moment has passed, wishes you’d said something more. Got his name, flirted. Hell, even made him linger for another ten minutes to see if you could get him to laugh like he did at the shelves. 

Unfortunately, you have to swallow it. 

Because it’s rare to see a stranger return, even if they say they’re happy with the service. Most of the time, the town is a stop for them—a way to rest before continuing on their way. 

Unlike with those before him, you rarely remember their faces—just a rough account of the book they bought. 

Him, you remember. If you could draw, you’d be able to sketch how his veins stood out on the back of his hand when he took the book from you. The shape of his eyes and the swirls of gold mixed with the shades of brown when he’d adjusted his cap. 

You linger in it, the memory of how your skin felt under his gaze, allowing yourself secret seconds of wishful thinking when he walks in. 

So much so, you blink. 

Fingers pinching the skin at your wrist—unsure if it’s a mirage or real. Bearing down in the skin, until it begins to more than hurt.

He’s here—the mysterious hat-wearing DIYer. 

It takes you by such surprise, you almost drop the gum from your tongue. Your mind emptying of all the practised moments in your heads—the ones where you’d only had the chance to see him again in a make-believe world. 

This isn’t make-believe. It’s real. 

Words, so usually able to sprout, vanish. Crumble. Turning into ash in the depths of your mind—new ones struggling to form as heat rises in your cheeks. 

It’s quick to dawn on you how out of practice you are, how irregular it is. Good-looking men (you’d almost flirted with) don’t tend to return to the shop. They don’t hover in the space between the shelves and your register. 

But he is. 

Standing. All nearly six-foot of him, staring at you like you’re the only thing that could quench a drought. 

“Twice in one month?” 

“What can I say?” he says, scratching the back of his neck, knocking his hat ever so slightly—allowing peppered-brown curls to show. “You sell good books.” 

“I sell the same books as other shops, but thank you….”

“Francisco—Frankie. I’m Frankie.” 

It flutters out: a smile. Letting it hang on your face, blissfully breathing, the two of you lost in the centre of acoustic music crackling through your somewhat fixed speaker. 

“So, Francisco, what you looking for today? Still wanting to keep your hands busy?”

The look he sends you makes your ears and cheek burn. Worsening more so as he doesn’t tear his eyes away from you, a reply sitting on the edge of his tongue—likely trapped behind his teeth. 

You’re holding your breath. For what, you’re not sure. A response. Something. 

Almost filling the silence with a throat clear, a rap of your knuckles, a tap of your nails, but the bell for the door chimes instead, your eyes ripping from him to the familiar face of Miss Fell from the coffee shop. 

He promises to come back in the future, but promises are so easy to break, that you don’t hold on to them. 

It’s why it’s harder to control when you see him in the doorway, your lips already curling, eyes studying every inch of him as he strolls over—cap positioned as usual, faded yellow-ish jacket, a similar overtly-washed tee and denim jeans. 

Eyes lock with his through the space in the romance section—ironic, if you say so yourself—your arms full of hardbacks, shoulders burning, near screaming. 

You only focus on the tension, how it thickens, breathes. It crawls out from the walls and thrums to the beat of whatever is playing on the local station. You need it for restocking—the more uptempo beats aiding your mission of ferrying books from one side to the other.  

Frankie’s eyes travel to them, the boxes half-open behind the counter and the trolley you’ve abandoned—the one which had been squealing in protest across the floor, working against you rather than with you. 

“Hi.”

“Hey, hermosa.” 

It drips from his tongue as though he’s called you it before. Instead of trying it for the first time.

He's used your name, the one given freely; he's also used the nickname you'd handed him after a few more visits, the one friends and family call you.

Today, it seems he'd rather call you something which kisses the air with intention and makes your stomach flutter.

“You visit the town a lot for saying you don’t live here.” 

“I live in the next town over—so, just a short drive.” 

He says it casually, and you almost believe him if not for the fact you know the distance. 

“Well, something keeps making you repeatedly visit—lemme guess, it’s my book recommendation, isn’t it?”

It’s bold, maybe too much so. 

The words form and leave your tongue before you can even reconsider them. So sweet, far too rich—more daring than you’d usually let escape when working. 

It’s out there now, billowing in the space between you as he comes around the shelving, your hand pausing on the hardback's spine as you look up to find his stare. 

He’s smiling. 

Leaning his shoulder against the shelf, arms folded across his chest as his eyes burrow. 

“Partly.” 

You place the books, adjusting the shelving. “Only partly? Guess I need to step up my bookselling game if other things are getting you to come back.” 

He keeps his eyes on you, but there’s something there. It ripples, going against the beat of the tension—standing out like an ink stain on a plain white tee. 

“I’m… I’m going to meetings held out the town hall.” He mumbles, smile fading with each word, the confession gracing the air with so much softness it’s as though he’s hoping to cast it to you gently. “Got into some shit, but I’m getting clean now—was stupid… bad. Just wanted to… get a handle on it without everyone gossipin’ about it.” 

You nod, trying to find the balance between not staring and meeting his gaze. A careful balance is needed for such a confession that you’re not entirely sure you’re capable of achieving. 

“That’s… that’s really good, Francisco, that you’re wanting to, y’know put the work in.”

“Frankie,” he interrupts. 

As he has done every time you call him that. 

“Please call me Frankie, Hermosa.” 

It’s hard to hide that he makes your throat tighten, especially when he lets his new name for you fall so delicately from his tongue. 

A bouquet of warmth blooms in your chest, a sea of it crashing down and soaking you from head to toe.

“I just mean,” you murmur, watching him tilt his head to look at you, doing so with kind eyes and a warm smile. “I—I don’t judge you… we all make mistakes.” 

He smiles a little wider. “Thanks, Hermosa. I… I appreciate you saying that” 

“If you keep calling me beautiful, I’m gonna keep calling you Francisco.” 

“Well, what else can I call you when you look as pretty as you do?” 

Burn. You burn. 

Heat floods your cheeks, and you’re sure he must feel it. Purposefully casting your eyes to the side, turning to pick up more books from the floor. 

But his remain. Fixated. Intentional. Busy consuming and swallowing all the things around the two of you, until it's just the two of you that remain.

Not that you mind, care. You only see him.

The world around you both a little dimmer, the music a little quieter, as if everything is tuned into him. The man in the cap with the beautifully, stunning eyes.

“You keep flirting with me, and I’ll drop all my books.”

He wipes his hands on his jeans, gesturing to you to hand him some of the load. “Just so I can keep flirting.” 

“You don’t have to…”

He gestures again, more purposefully. 

Pursing your lips, you surrender. Seeing how much he wants to, allowing his fingers to brush down your forearms as he takes them and trying not to shiver under the intensity of it. 

It’s harder to ignore the spark, the one lit, running through you to light fireworks in your stomach that’ll explode in your bones, in your nerves—all over your goddamn body. 

“Francisco…”

“Hermosa.” 

If tension were a gas, there’d be no air to breathe.

All poison. No oxygen. You think you’d swallow it all the same, gallop it back to keep your eyes locked on his—feeling your ears burn similarly to your cheeks and chest. 

“They go in that space down there,” you say. “You might have to bend over, y’know, to get them to sit nicely.” 

He grins, wicked—daring. It’s accompanied by a lot of teeth and a wide smile. Pretty—handsome. 

“Should have let you do these ones, huh?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to let your brain run away with itself. Unsure if you can let yourself believe that something akin to a rom-com could currently happen to you. 

“Don’t think the sight would be as good as the one I have.”

His eyes cast up at you, a mischievous glint to them he immediately banishes. “Now, who’s flirting.” 

In time, you come to expect him. Only on a Wednesday, never another time. 

So much so, you don’t glance at the door longingly when the bell chimes. You don’t brace for the smile that blossoms when you spot him (irrespective of whether he’s brought you a coffee or a baked good). 

Today, unfortunately, isn’t a Wednesday. 

Just a regular, non-Francisco day that you wish would bleed into another. Having spent many times between his visits planning, plotting—full-blown award-winning speeches re-enacted for the next time you see him.  

There have been ones where you ask him to go for a coffee, ask whether he’d visit you on a day that isn’t a Wednesday. Getting tired of just waving him off, watching him shoot you a final smile as he headed to his truck. 

It’s stuck with you, that feeling. 

Knots inside, mangled together with other moments you replay and wish you could change when you should be sleeping. So many missed moments, shoulda-woulda-coulda, you don’t want him to be added to the pile. 

Today, more so. It always is after a heavier, slow and tiresome day—one which stifles all your usual happiness and excitement of being in a place you love. 

Dragging your feet, fingers flicking the lights off, you watch as the window spotlights extinguish the displays you’d worked on to keep busy. Moving to the door, fingers reaching to turn the sign, twist the lock—

He’s here.

All flushed cheeks, mouth open. 

Francisco’s hand clutches the handle, bending at the hip as he swallows mouthfuls of air—holding a finger up. 

One minute. 

He’s rushed—actually rushed to get here. 

Pulling on the handle, slowly letting the town air seep in as he slowly stands. 

“Hey?” 

“You… you shutting?” 

“I was about to.” 

Wiping the back of his hand across his forehead, he looks at you. “I need a book.”

“You… you need a book?” 

He nods, hands falling to his lower back, stretching. 

“Come on in then.” 

You have to give it to him. He pretends to glance at the shelves for several minutes before he pulls something from a stand without staring. His performance does allow you to close off your computer and tidy up around your desk before he places a book on your desk. 

“Woodworking?” 

He shrugs, adjusting the front of his cap, palm smoothing over his forehead as fingers tuck away his curls. “Considering it is all.” 

You nod, scanning it as it pops up on the till—your hand reaching for a bag as you feel his eyes sitting on you. They’re heavy—weighty. 

It makes you warm, standing under his stare. Something close to the sun, making you turn into it as a smile falls passively across your lips. 

“You know, one day, you’re gonna have to show me what you’ve been building with the number of books you’ve bought.” 

It’s an off-hand comment, a playful one.

It lands, but not in the way you’d hoped. 

His eyes searing, as though urging you to hear words he isn’t saying as you take the money from his extended hand. Words you would hear if he even whispered them due to the quietness—shop all closed and locked except for the two of you. 

You’d expected him to be playful, like last time—more jokes, having found more comfort. But, if anything, it was like the first time he’d walked in, hands stuffed in his pocket, shoulders close to his ears. 

He pauses, the brown bag lying on the counter and not in his fist, like usual. Your hand remains over the till, one note still in hand as you glance at him. 

“That everything?” 

“No.” 

It’s soft. 

More whispered than exclaimed. Yet, it makes your throat tighten—eyes fixate on him a little more intensely. Taking him in differently than you usually do. 

Usually, you linger over the way his nose slopes, how his eyes always have a twinkle in them—that a few wisps of hair poking out underneath the bill of his cap. That he wears earthy shades and smells of sea salt mixed with cedar, a mysterious scent that lingers even when he’s gone. 

Now, you focus on how his eyes are a little wider, soaking you in rich brown, wearing hesitancy across his broad shoulders and tight-lipped face. 

You say nothing, both not able to nor wanting to.  

“I… I want to kiss you.” 

It’s hard to ignore the way heat blooms across your cheeks, focussing on stuffing the note haphazardly in the drawer before you close it. Fingers resting, lingering on the metal seal as you swallow. “Didn’t realise my knowledge of books could be so endearing?” 

He smiles, but it’s full of nerves. 

Plastered to bring you some ease—you suppose—his hand lifting his cap a little higher. “Well, I’m not buying all these books because I’m still trying to keep my hands busy, Hermosa.”

“No?” 

“No,” he whispers. 

You don’t think. Your feet just begin moving, forcing you from behind the counter to the place beside him. You’re so close; you can see the way the last few spotlights over the counter are reflecting in his pupils—see the shadow of yourself in his darkening eyes. 

It’s your turn to be nervous, for trembling fingers to tease the edge of his open shirt, bristling under his gaze as you slowly lift your chin to—

You feel them, his lips. 

Chapped, but yet still soft, warm. Feeling them slide against yours in well-versed movements as though this isn’t the first time the two of you have done this. Something mushrooms in your chest expands out as you slide your tongue to taste it, lick it all away—all the nerves, the built-up anxiety. The two of you settle, falling into a steady rhythm that dances close to pent-up frustration. 

At some point, his cap falls to the floor, your fingers woven in his peppered curls as your back presses into the wooden counter. He’s precise, cautious—not pressing you too intently, allowing you room to leave, but not enough to get the idea he doesn’t want this. 

Doesn’t want you. 

He does. 

He shows it with his fingers, etching them across your hip. Hands, large and littered with callouses, wrap and pinch you over your clothes, telling stories you’re not listening to currently. 

Briefly, between soft, muted moans, do you think about how they’d feel on your bare skin. How his fingers would feel curled inside you, those eyes searing into you as he whispers that you’re doing so well—just like he did when he first heard about you running the place yourself. 

“Frankie…” 

It escapes, the nickname. 

The one he’s told you to use each time you call him Francisco. The one you think of when you’re alone, simmering and blistering on the tip of your tongue when your thin bed sheet covers your bare thighs. 

Then, Frankie pulls back—something flooding you that isn’t relief, but rather disappointment.

“Oh,” you mumble. “I’m… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean.…”

It trails off. Not sure what to apologise for, least of all when you don’t mean it. Swiping your tongue across your lower lip, tasting the mint of his gum and the coffee he’s tried to hide with it, loosening your fingers from his curls, dropping your arm until it hangs pointlessly beside you. 

But he doesn’t let go. 

Doesn’t step back. Thankfully. 

He just stares in utter bewilderment like he’s in a dream rather than reality. 

“I should have taken you for dinner.”

“What?” 

He swallows, blinking—coming back to. 

It happens more suddenly, him stepping back, scooping his cap from the ground and replacing it back like a crown upon his head.

He’s shy again—nervous. It radiates from him, flushing his cheeks more than the minute-ago make-out session the two of you just endured. 

“I was—fuck, I was supposed to ask you to go out for dinner before….”

“Before?” 

Tilting his head, his lips slope up into a cheek. “Before I groped you like some horny teen. You deserve better—more. You deserve more. A nice meal, a fucking conversation and….”

“I like pizza.” 

He pauses, blinking. “Y-yeah?”

Nodding, you smile. Rolling your lips until you’re biting down, unsure—suddenly shifting on the spot. “I can… I know a place—they deliver. We can, can just hang here or go upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” 

It grows into a grin, the smile you’d been trying to hold back. “Yeah, I live above the shop, Frankie.” 

And he’s in front of you again, resuming the minimal space the two of you had before. Both of his hands cup your cheeks, thumb brushing the skin—eyes burning into yours, no longer bubbling with nervousness. 

“Say it again.”

“Wha—“

“My name. Please, Hermosa.” 

Tilting your face ever so slightly, you lick your lips—his eyes watching how the tip of it does so. “Frankie.”

He groans, low—guttural, almost swallowed back but somehow escaping—before, in one swift movement, his lips are married back to yours. It’s different, more confident—dizzyingly so.

Your legs wobbling a little as the counter managed to support you, every other sense tuning into him and just him. Almost demanded so, by him. 

His teeth nip, pressing against you as you feel how hard he is against you, as one of his hands drops to your waist. Almost tempted to slide your hand over the zipper, to squeeze—to tease him even further—

“Ah, man, it’s closed.” 

The two of you pause, freezing. 

Eyes both glancing through one of the shelves at the door, the person hovering, waiting—as though expecting the shop to suddenly open as they arrived. You will them to leave, eyes clenching, until you slowly open one, then the other. 

Frankie doesn’t turn back at first, not until it’s truly silent—the two of you alone again. But, you remain cupping his cheek, the other on his arm—fingers barely fitting around his bicep that flexes as he turns his head. 

You can hear it, your heart pounding—worsening when his eyes lock with yours, dancing from one to the other. 

“I—“

“Do you want me to show you upstairs?” 

His hand slides from your waist, scratching the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t….”

“Oh. Yeah, okay, I get it—“

“I don’t want to just… fuck you, Hermosa.” 

Your lips clamp shut, throat tightening as you take a struggled breath. 

“You hear me? I want—“

“You want pizza, a tour and then….” you whisper, so soft it barely greets the air, watching him fill in the dots, the blanks. 

His cheeks flush, eyes narrowing before widening, making you smile wickedly. 

an: this was my first ever time writing for him, so pls be nice and lovely and kind. k thanks.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Flashback

Summary: You reflect on your "relationship" with Frankie and running into him for the first time after finding out he lied to you.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 690

Warnings: angst, lies, unplanned pregnancy, infidelity

A/N: This is my attempt on fixing a plot hole lol Also this is now a series? Though like every series I write, no plan, just vibes

Part of the (Ir)replaceable series

The letters on your counter were mocking you. 

Frankie’s letters. 

In the whirlwind of running into him (and his wife) yesterday you neglected to process the words she had said. That came after you had distracted yourself by painting the nursery. 

“It's kinda nice knowing someone is pregnant at the same time as me”

She was pregnant too?

Was that the reason Frankie…

No.

He lied to you. For months. You would not make excuses for him. He had sex with her while being with you, even though he had said they haven’t been intimate in almost a year. 

Lies. 

But maybe the explanation was in one of those letters. The letters that seemed to be screaming at you to read them. 

It was the next morning and you had just gotten dressed. Your appointment with the lawyer was in three hours and you still had to drive to the city. 

Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to grab your purse and walk out the door. 

Because of the fucking letters. 

Sucking your bottom lip in you nervously drummed your fingers on the kitchen counter. You had a lot of time to think last night. 

Maybe you needed to see him again, to realise what was happening, that you were having a baby with a married man.

There was a petty part of you that just wanted to let your lawyer take care of things. You imagined Frankie having to try to explain why he was getting letters from an attorney. There was an even more petty part of you that wanted his wife to find out. 

That his wife did not find out about the two of you in the past was a mystery to you. 

Frankie had spent so much time with you. He came to your place after work. He spent at least two nights every week at your place. How could she have not known?

Then again you did not have all the information. And he sure knew how to work his cock to make someone shut up. 

You shuddered in disgust. 

You didn’t know what Frankie told her. You did not know if everything Frankie told you had been a lie. 

When you agreed to go out with him for the first time all those months back, he had told you about his separation. That married life wasn’t how he imagined it. 

Frankie and his wife had gotten married after only knowing each other for a week. 

You remembered the conversation as if it had happened yesterday. 

“You know when you meet someone and think fuck I don’t want to be without them anymore? It was like that with her. She’s funny and kind and… Fuck… I don’t know what went wrong. She just… she’s not the person I fell in love with anymore.”

Frankie was on his third beer, venting about his failed marriage. 

And you?

You were at your limit. 

“Do you have any idea how I felt when you came back married all of the sudden?” you asked him. His brown eyes looked at you confused while he frowned. 

“How you felt?” he asked carefully. 

“You don’t even remember…” you rolled your eyes. 

“The date,” he whispered, his lips parted in realisation. 

“Yeah. The date you took me on three days before you and Santi left, the date where you kissed me good night and told me that you’d call, only for me to find out you’re married 10 days after,” you shook your head, your fingers peeling the label off your beer bottle, your eyes focused on this task instead of looking at him. 

“I’m such an asshole,” he huffed and you looked up, sighing. 

“Yeah. You are.”

Sighing you rubbed your fingers over your forehead. 

He was the asshole. 

Not you. 

Okay at least he was the bigger asshole in this scenario. 

That’s why you continued to ignore the letters as you grabbed your purse and walked out of the door. 

But before you drove off you chose to be the bigger person and send a text to his number.

Meeting with lawyers because of my baby today. Expect mail soon.

[monkey-d-ezekiel]

One Piece - Chapter 1090 "Admiral Kizaru": Thoughts, Theories and Discussions

The cover of this chapter is very interesting! I don't particularly think much of East Blue villains other than Arlong, but Kuro was always an interesting one for me. His plan was the most befuddled mess I've ever seen, and his ending was... ambiguous? He was also one of the first villains with a leaning towards intelligence and his entire appearance screamed sophistication. So it's interesting to be reminded of this guy on the cover, even if his arc was a massive dud!

As for the actual chapter, it starts off very typically, with Luffy telling the Gorosei that he'll be the King of the Pirates. I love that Luffy never changes. He's always the bull in a china shop, who Robin and Nami have to restrain.

It's interesting how Big News Morgan, Wapol and Vivi are listening in on this conversation. I'm pretty sure that'll play a role further on in the story.

I'm also interested in what Rob Lucci's motives are here, along with Kaku. He seems to be going along with the Straw Hats for now, but he IS informing the Gorosei of everything that's happening. I doubt he's going to defect, honestly. Neither will Kaku. Lucci's goals and values simply don't align with anything the Straw Hats stand for. Though he will have to take a decision, since the WG doesn't really seem to care much about sacrificing his life.

Not to mention, this arc gives HEAVY Sabaody vibes. Admiral Kizaru, the Seraphim and the fast paced lore dumping all seem very much like they've taken their inspiration from the style of storytelling in Sabaody Archipelago. Also, i HATE York. Absolutely hate that bitch. Just thought I'd put that out there

I'm pretty hype for Elbaf! I've been eager to see the Island of the Giants, since it's heavily hinted that it's an important place in the world of One Piece. We've been hearing about it since when, Little Garden? I'm also interested in seeing if Usopp gets a major upgrade in Elbaf, because his connection with the Giants has been established and shown a few times throughout the series.

I gotta say, we're getting to know more about Kizaru chapter by chapter. It goes against his ideals to ignore a man who's sincerely doing his duty? I think Kizaru might be a more morally complex man than he lets on with his "high all the time" facade coupled with sarcasm. I'm interested in seeing how Sentomaru and the Pacifistas vs Kizaru unfolds

Also, I really don't feel comfortable with the Hancock Seraphim. Like I know Oda cleared up the accusations, but still. It doesn't seem right and it feels more like it was a coverup for the sake of publicity rather than the actual intention, you know? So I can't help but be uncomfortable with the way people are behaving around S-Snake, as well as the way she behaves with Luffy. Also, could this Bubble that they've trapped the Seraphim in be the answer to DF users in some way? It seems intriguing, at the very least. I do hope all the other Seraphim have their personalities blossom as well. Can't wait for an awakened Doflamingo Seraphim 💀

Last but not least, we get a Coup de Burst after so many years! I missed the Thousand Sunny specialty and I'm glad to see it return. It's so cute to see Franky explain to Vegapunk that the ship is powered by COLA of all things 😭😭

Overall, a very good chapter, and it has some aspects that I can't discuss without making this too lengthy. So i'll do an in depth analysis of Kizaru in some time, but for now, I'm eager to see if the Straw Hats can escape Egghead Island! I love the idea of revisiting the Sabaody themes and story beats, and especially eager to see Kizaru vs Luffy. Do y'all think Kizaru can take the W against G5 Luffy? I wouldn't underestimate a Navy Admiral, but Luffy is a Yonko for a reason, after all. Who do y'all think has the edge? Will Kizaru perhaps defect just like Aokiji?

[psychedelic-ink]

Categories:

Click for part one:

Marvel ➞ peter parker, moonknight, doctor strange

Series ➞ AU's, horror vibes, fluff/slice of life, hurt/comfort

Part 2 because tumblr is annoying and glitching or there's too many links we will never know

The Mandalorian ➞ no categories direct top five

Miscellaneous Fandom ➞ no categories direct top five

PP characters ➞ AU's, fluff/smut, hurt/comfort & smut, smut, slice of life, fluff

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧

Tight by @frannyzooey

This was the first thing I read of yours and I still remember everything so vividly. The tight space, the absolute filth falling from Din lips and that promise to clean you up and lastly the way he shut the bunk door with such urgecy. It's been replaying in my head ever since and I simply fell in love with your writing just like that.

2. Soft Moments by @jazzelsaur

I said this before but I still believe this would be how Din would react in the show, it's one of my favorite Din's and I've been in love with this ever since.

3. Revelation by @the-scandalorian

One of my favorite din smut fics, love the reactions both Din and reader had and the aftermath just warmed my heart. Just like reader, I also think that Din saying it first make the whole thing a lot better.

4. Uncharted Territory by @pedrito-friskito

I screamed about this so much but I've been thinking about Din and Sweets so much you have no idea. The bond they have, and the way you wrote Din was superb, this one deserves all the love and I'll never tire of rereading it.

5. Posession by @ezrasbirdie

Just thinking about this still sends shudders up my spine. This one is absolutely splendid and the way you've gradually made Din's conditions worse and worse is engraved in my mind. The ending, the voices, it was all hauntingly beautiful.

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦

The Last Supper by @laters-gators (duke leto)

This might be one of the most beautiful things I read. The way you described the environment, the feelings reader was having in response to Duke Leto having to leave, all of it was stunning and I kept on thinking about this even long after months passed since I read it.

2. somewhere in the belly of the beast by @ozarkthedog (llyod hansen)

I actually haven't watched gray man but read this and it stuck with me, the chase, Llyod's taunting, all of it I still remember so vividly.

3. Firecracker  by @pedrito-friskito (ransom drysdale)

I still stand by the fact that Ransom would act exactly like he did in this fic. The ending was absolutely touching and it made me fall in love with this man even more.

4. Discretion by @inklore (ransom drysdale)

This one nearly killed me, the orgasm denial, the dirty talk, the teasing--It's a miracle I'm able to write this sentence.

5. Roadside Attraction.  by @inklore (ransom drysdale)

The tension you made me feel with this one was outstanding. I loved everything about it, your writing never cease to amaze me, the way you set the mood was amazing.

𝐏𝐏 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝑨𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 

Euclidean Geometry by @leslie-lyman (pero trovar, jack daniels, frankie morales)

This was the first fic I read of yours and I fell for it hard. I still have the image of frankie and jack engraved into my brain, basically becoming useless whenever I think about it. The way you intertwined their stories was outstanding and I read it again multiple times after.

2. Snakes and Ladder by @beskarberry (oberyn martell)

This is hauntingly beautiful. The way you described oberyn and the world is amazing and I will never forget about the smut. I think about it whenever I want to feel my blood rush to my head. Amazing writing.

3. Unbridled by @/beskarberry (pero tovar)

Again this one also lives in my mind rent free. I will never forger about centaur!pero, and I will never forget his amazement when reader too the entire thing. Aside from the smut I enjoyed their banter thoroughly and the ending was just like a fairy tail.

4. Icing on the Cake by @/beskarberry (pero tovar)

Pero eating is one of my kryptonite and reading this scratched that itch perfectly. The way you written this was amazing and comforting and I'll never forget the way Pero fed her. Also really enjoyed that this was also rather emotional, one of my favorite pero fics.

5. My Bluebell Song by @prolix-yuy (jack daniels)

I loved reading this, it was so soft, so tender and just so sweet. The way you wrote their interactions made me smile all the way through and even if this was a recent read of mine there's no way I'm forgetting it.

𝑭𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇/𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕

Green Light by @outercrasis (marcus pike)

I still remember this so vividly, and this is the first thing I read of yours. It's the perfect friends to lovers, neighbors, and I loved how this entire thing played out. Everything that happens in this just screams Marcus to me and their interaction with each other was just so natural. I loved every little part of it.

2. What If by @lowlights (frankie morales)

This was just so soft, and so hot at the same time. Loved the scene where Frankie pulls reader on his lap and this fic alone just made me feel loved. And I really enjoyed Frankie making her wait.

3. The Warrior and The Witch by @pedrito-friskito (pero tovar)

You already know how much I love this but that's not gonna stop me from saying it again, I absolutely love this. One of my favorite autumn reads, it's cozy, it has action, it has spice and magic. The way you're able to build works will never not amaze me and the side characters I still hold dear to my heart.

4. howdy, pumpkin by @magpie-to-the-morning & @/radiowallet (jack daniels)

I shall never forget the kitchen scene, NEVER. Whenever I see a pumpkin weather (or a pumpkin for that matter) I think of this. I love it so much, it's just so soft and so spicy, it just makes me wanna curl in my bed to read it again and again.

5. cool girl by @ezrasbirdie (dieter bravo)

I'm not even kidding when I say I think about this fic whenever I'm on Instagram (and especially if Pedro has posted a new story) you have no idea how tempted I became to send this man racoon memes after reading this. Tbh I'm still tempted. I remember the exact moment when I was reading this and I'm still in love with it, you nailed Dieter's essence with this one and I love it.

𝑯𝒖𝒓𝒕/𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 & 𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕 

Fire and Whiskey by @pedrito-friskito (joel miller)

I thought about this while watching the gameplay every minute. It' so good, and really made me feel for them both. The desperation they both had and the ending with joel telling her not to go. Absolutely stunning.

2. Stars Hit the Ceiling by @jazzelsaur (frankie morales & agent whiskey)

I will never forget the softness of this, you can clearly feel how much those three care and love each other, and the way they understand what any of them needs really just made me a puddle on the floor.

3. Rekindled by @queenofthefaceless (javier p)

This one made my heart go out for Javi, that man deserves to be loved and I adored the vibes and feelings this one has.

4. Killing Me Softly @astroboots (dave york)

I remember the way a shudder climbed up my spine despite the heat of summer. This was so good, you can feel the tension between each word and the smut was to die for. One of my favorite Dave fics.

5. Cherry Flavored by @pedrito-friskito (dieter bravo)

I read this one on a bus with wide eyes, I think this might be one of the first fics I read of yours but I'm not sure. The emotions and the angst here were stunning. I loved reading this from Dieter's perspective.

𝑶𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕 

Salty Caramel by @iamskyereads (jack daniels)

I will never ever forget this. Hands down my favorite sex drug (or in this case candy) fics, it was stunning, so hot, and I couldn't get out of the effects of it for a good hour or so. And the way Jack was at the end just made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

2. Mechanical Bull and a Ghost by @honestly-shite (ezra, jack daniels)

This is the first fic I read of yours and after that it was quick to get hooked on your writing. It was so hot and my chest heat up whenever I think about it. I loved how you've written their first meet up and their dialogue, I'm still so head over heels over this.

3. My Girl by @/foli-vora (dave york, frankie morales)

This is the one that made me fall in love with you. I haven't reread this for a while and I still remember the way Dave beckoned frankie and pulled at his hair when Frankie got a little rough. The effects of this one lasted a good while I'll tell you that much.

4. Rare by @ezrasbirdie (dave york)

The moment where reader looked down and saw Dave covered in blood and went "oh good finally he's consuming you" is still in my brain. That moment never left and never will. I read this every time I'm on my period I kid you not. My biggest comfort while I'm cramping.

5. Party favor by @/inklore (javier p)

The way you've wrote Javier was perfect and I loved that he saved her from the party because honestly we all need Javier to save us from unwanted conversations.

6. Weight Gain - Pero Tovar by @absurdthirst

I read this one quite often. It just became such a staple comfort for me whenever I'm feeling down, and the way you managed to written Pero's need in this one is outstanding, I think about this one a lot.

𝑺𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒊𝒇𝒆

suck the rot right out of my bloodstream by @redahlia-writes (javier peña)

This one truly was emotional, I felt every word, every sentence and the way you write always reminds me of poetry and I adore that so much. The way you described how javi would never hurt reader haunts me always but in a good way.

2. Near Miss by @/pedrito-friskito (frankie morales)

I screamed about this both publicly and privately but this one was just amazing. Hawk and Frankie has a special place in my heart and the gradual way you showed us how their relationship came to be was amazing.

𝑶𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝑭𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 

A Bit of A Fright by @leslie-lyman (agent whiskey)

This is just so sweet and thinking about it makes me smile. I love your jack and how he stepped up for reader, so wholesome, so heartwarming.

2. Roasted Almonds  by @toomanystoriessolittletime (marcus pike)

This is one of the best holiday reads, it's so soft and made me melt into my bed when I read it. And the ending was the perfect cherry on top.

3. On the right flight by @prolix-yuy (javi g)

The world needs more Javi fics so when I saw this I was so excited and when I read it I became the most happy person on earth. Loved the interactions, the subtle flirting and just over all Javi being a puppy in human form.

4. you can by @radiowallet (marcus moreno x dieter bravo)

The way you managed to convey so much emotion and sweetness with so little amount of words is amazing. I still think about these two quite often and will never forget the time they smoked together

5. Saturdays with Javier by @wildemaven (javier p)

This is the softest thing I read. I adore the playlist you made for this and seeing how Javier is despite being away from danger was written beautifully. I love this one so much.

[emerald-chaos]

Please cym as pedro pascal characters you like

Ooooo this is fun, okay. My issue is I like almost all of them soooooo I’ll pick a couple!

@animehearteyes as Joel Miller bc she’s grumpy as hell

@demeteria as Oberyn Martell bc she’s twin basically

@vibraniumcollar as Shane ‘Dio’ Morissey bc she’s my goth girlfriend

@borikenlove as Javier Peña bc she’s a slut

@inklore as Javi Gutierrez bc she is precious as hell

@sexyspector as Dieter Bravo bc she is equally as unhinged

@jobean12-blog as Din Djarin bc she’s my daddy

@bitchassbucky as Marcus Moreno bc she is goofy

@navybrat817 as Frankie Morales bc she is dependable (and I’m sure she could fly over the fuckin’ Andes)

@flordeamatista as Marcus Pike bc I get the same “innocent on the street and a freak in the sheets” vibes from them both 😂

@frannyzooey as Ezra bc she’s written the most incredible Ezra fic known to man, obviously

@sgt-seabass as Whiskey bc she makes me wanna scream her name as loud as I want to, Sugar

[foli-vora]

Congratulations Foli!!! You deserve all those followers and more.

How about #146 “Were you just masturbating?” “U-uh..no, I was just..” “Want some help?” with Frankie? Maybe a friends to lovers vibe? 👀

And no pressure! I know prompts can be hit or miss, muse-wise 💕

hello my angel! thank you so much, and thank you for your request! friends to lovers? baby, you are speaking my language! i had so much fun writing this - i hope you enjoy, lovely!

caught out

frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 2k warnings: STRICTLY 18+ ONLY. masturbation (f), eavesdropping/slight voyeurism, spiiice, bumpin' & grindin', the utter softness that this man makes me feel

[gif by moi]

It’s the need for tools that brings him to your house on a Saturday afternoon, standing outside your pale green front door with his shades shielding his eyes from the warm spring sun. You hadn’t responded to his text of ‘are you home?’ and he briefly wonders if you had plans.

He knocks, waiting a beat before knocking again. Not home, then.

He works his keys from his back pocket and fingers through the different ones until he finds yours, slipping it into the lock and letting himself in. You wouldn’t mind – you never did.

You made it clear when giving him a key that he was free to come and go as he pleased, unlike Benny who was now on a strict policy to only let himself into your home with explicit permission after he ended up eating the leftovers you had saved and were excited to eat after work. The younger Miller barely survived that ordeal. 

He toes his boots off quietly by the door before making a move for your kitchen, knowing the last time he had his wrench set was when he fixed your shitty sink last week. You really need a new one – how many times did he need to fix that thing before you accepted that fact? So stubborn.

It’s when he’s rifling through your cupboard, his sunglasses discarded on the countertop, that he thinks he hears you calling to him. It was definitely his name, and it was definitely you… so maybe you were home. Looking around your place, you wouldn’t think so. No lights were on, no music or TV or any other sounds of life. Maybe you’d been sleeping?

A brief flash of guilt swims in his chest from disturbing you and he straightens, closing the cupboards softly and poking his head out of the kitchen, expecting you to be walking his way with that tender little smile that makes his heart launch into his throat every fucking time.

It was hard, reigning in the force of his not-so-little crush every damn time he saw you. You just worked so well as friends though, he didn’t want to risk ruining what you had with a relationship. And as far as he knew, you weren’t interested in seeing anyone. No… it was better to keep the bond you had as it was now. He’d only screw it up.

You’re nowhere to be found when he looks, and a frown starts to form between his brows.

You call for him again, and something deep in his gut stirs at the way you sound. Were you hurt?

A part of him seemingly knows it’s not that, but a wave of concern grows anyway and washes away the prickle of heat taking over his skin. He steps towards your room, studying the way the door falls open just a crack and your darkened room beyond.

He goes to speak, to reassure you it was him, but stops at the very faint sound of buzzing, a barely there hum filling the air. He wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t so focused on it. Another whimper of his name carries to his ears and it all hits him like lightning.

God, were you –

He sucks in a breath and his hands clench into fists at his sides, his mind now screaming at him to leave. This isn’t right, he shouldn’t be eavesdropping on something so personal, so intimate, like a damn creep.

He should absolutely leave. He should slip out as quickly and quietly as he did upon entering. He needs to leave. Right now. He should leave –

Why can’t he fucking move?

His jeans pull tighter as his cock swells within the confines of them, straining against the rough fabric and throbbing with each mental image his brain throws at him.

Were you completely nude? Were you still dressed, clothes merely shoved haphazardly out of the way in your desperation to get off? How were you positioned? Was it a bullet? A vibrating dildo? How did you look taking it?

“Shit,” he curses lowly, a small curl of disgust at himself building in his gut and snapping him free from the haze of lust and hunger filling his mind.

His hands itch to touch you, to follow your guidance and learn every little thing that makes your breath catch; your toes curl; your hands tighten in his hair until it feels like you’d pull it right out of his scalp…

No.

No, he needs to leave, but then… maybe you wouldn’t mind if he lets his presence known. You are calling for him, after all. It’s his name on your lips while you’re lost in whatever bliss you’re drowning yourself in. His name — no one else's. Does that mean you feel the same as him? Was it purely sexual? Was it –

Lost in the whirlwind of his thoughts, he doesn’t realise how close his leg comes to the vintage console table lining your wall. The corner of the solid timber catches his hip and the thing jolts, an already badly balanced frame falling at the sudden knock and it slaps face down loudly.

Fuck. Fucking fuck. 

The soft noise abruptly stops in your bedroom at the sudden disturbance, and he panics, smoothing his sweaty palms down his jeans and fixing the way they sit over his stiff cock. Hopefully they were tight enough to keep it hidden.

“Hey, it’s me.” He calls, fixing the frame and desperately trying to make it look like he hadn’t been eavesdropping on you getting yourself off.

“Frankie?”

His heart thunders at your voice.

It takes a few moments for you to get yourself together, and in those few moments he thinks of anything and everything to quell the wild erection straining against fly. Fuck, why won’t it go away?

Soon your bedroom door is pulled open and then there you are, your crumpled tee caught in the waistband of your sleep shorts, no doubt from being pulled on in a panic. He tears his eyes away from your body and forces a smile, desperately trying to calm the tremble in his hands.

“Sorry, I was just – I did knock… I thought you weren’t home. I’m just here to grab my wrench set.”

“Oh!” You breathe, clearing your throat softly and discreetly fixing the way your clothes cling to you. “Right. Sorry about that, I must’ve not heard you. Yeah I uh – I moved them into the garage. Um, they’re on the shelf… next to your drill.”

He nods, rocking back onto his heels and digging his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, hoping you don’t notice the way he positions his hands to make sure there’s no evidence of any sort of… obvious lumps.

His tongue runs along his lower lip, deliberating on whether or not to broach the topic. He could leave it right here – take his tools and just leave like the original plan had been. He could keep what you have and not make it awkward, not potentially risk losing the friendship you both had crafted…

Or he could take the risk. He could push it, just a little, and see where it goes. You were calling for him, you were thinking of him… that obviously meant you felt something surely. 

“Were you…”

Say it.

Say it, you fucking coward.

“Were you just masturbating?”

Mortification fills you with a flush of heat along your skin, flooding your cheeks and turning your face to flames. Your flight instinct rears to life in the back of your mind. God, he heard you. How could you explain this? Had he heard you saying his name? Moaning it? Was he uncomfortable?

Of course he’s uncomfortable! You inwardly cringe, your heart that had previously been erratic from your desperation in search of bliss, now hurried due to the panic growing in your chest. Your stomach lurches at the possibility of losing his friendship. You’d done so well hiding your crush over the time you’d known him, and now it was all falling apart.

“U-uh… no. Of course not! I was just –”

He watches you quietly, those beautifully deep, observant eyes flickering across your face as you desperately try to string together an excuse. He knows you’re lying. Of course he knows. He knows you better than anyone – a lie hurriedly crafted in the midst of your humiliation and panic would be all too easy for him to see through.

“Tell me,” he insists, his tone low and soft.

Something about the way he gazes at you, his eyes burning with something you just can’t place – hope? desire? – it gently coaxes the heat that had previously been dowsed back into a flame, settling low and churning in your core. It gives you a small shove of courage, and you squirm a little where you stand.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, “I was.”

He exhales sharply, his throat bobbing with a swallow as he nods, almost expectantly. “And who were you thinking of?”

“You, Francisco. I was thinking of you.”

Silence falls over the both of you, but it’s not uncomfortable. No, the air feels charged. You feel it run along the skin of the back of your neck and down along your spine, the darkening of his gaze building a strong tightening of anticipation in your chest. This can’t be happening… can it?

Finally – he moves, standing straighter and letting his gaze roll along your frame hungrily. “Want some help?”

What? Fuck.

You can’t get the word out quick enough.

“Yes –”

He moves instantly, striding forward and curling a large hand against your skin to cup your cheek before tilting your head and claiming your mouth. Fucking finally.

His moustache tickles in the best of way, as you always suspected. His lips are soft and supple against yours, quickly giving way to an urgency you endeavour to keep up with. You’re weak against him, the strong arm that curls around your back pulling at you until you’re flush against his body.

You surrender to the ferocity of his kiss, parting your lips at the gentle probe of his tongue and meeting it with your own. He groans softly into your mouth, your hands winding around his neck and twisting your fingers into his hair.

The breath leaves your lungs when his hand drops to palm your ass, his fingers digging harshly into the fleshy swell of it and it’s your turn to moan when you feel the noticeable solid bulge in his jeans, pressing and rubbing against your mound.

Still sensitive from your previous attention to it, your clit throbs with each eager grind against his hard cock, the desperate roll of your hips encouraged by the hand planted on your ass. The thin material of your sleep shorts allows you to feel the roughness of his jeans as if there were nothing there at all, and you’re suddenly incredibly thankful for skipping underwear in your hurry to get dressed.

“Is this a bad idea?” You breathe, breaking away from the greedy pursuit of his mouth and blinking at him with a shine of worry growing in your eyes.

Though everything feels so right in the moment, you feel the stirrings of anxiety creep along the edges of your mind.

You adore Frankie – you don’t think you’d cope very well with losing him. The mere idea of it births an ache deep in your chest and you wonder if your friendship would even be salvageable after rubbing up on each other like this. How could you ever act normal around him after feeling and tasting him the way you have?

He takes a moment to try and level his breathing, swiping his tongue along his lower lip and catching the remnants of your saliva. He fights the urge to dive back in for another taste of your mouth as his heart runs wild in his chest, trying to hold back the vicious denial building in his throat.

“I don’t know,” he returns quietly, searching your face for any clues as to your answer. “Is it?”

He waits, hanging suspended in the moment. Can you see the hope in his gaze? The devotion? Can you feel the way he’s wanted this for so long? 

“No,” you decide after a moment of studying him, your fingers toying with the short waves at the nape of his neck, rolling and twisting the silky soft strands. “I don’t think this is a bad idea.”

“No?”

You smile that smile and he feels his chest tighten at the adoring warmth of it. “It’s always been you, Frankie.”

He exhales lightly, the corners of his lips twitching below his moustache with the threat of a smile. His thumb brushes the skin of your cheek and you soak in the affectionate action, your heart wild against your ribs.

“It’s always been you.”

-

everything pp tags: @maievdenoir, @william-butcher, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @h-hxgirl, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx

frankie morales tags: @a-reader-and-a-writer, @sanfransolomitatm, @pedrohoe04, @evyiione, @stardust-galaxies, @xjsteph, @androah, @wildmoonflower, @naughtynecromancer, @quica-quica-quica, @stevenmylove, @lawfulgranola, @notagamersdey, @fuckoffbard, @yt-adriana, @dins-cyare, @clydesducktape, @serini-ty, @chaoticevilbakugo, @breakfastonpluto19

[pedropascalsx]

Build Me Up Buttercup - Chapter three.

Ongoing: Yes.

Summary:  Reader has a tough interaction at work, and Frankie promises to help her forget.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: P in V sex (unprotected - wrap it up folks!), Thigh riding, tongue fucking, oral sex (fem receiving), pussy worship, overstimulation, mention of safe words (not used), choking, slight dom!frankie vibes, and some fluff!!

Read Chapter one & two - combined post - here!

It had been four days since your date with Frankie and three days since you saw him last. The date went absolutely perfectly and the rest of the evening just as well.

Sitting in the break room at work alone, you blush at the memory of him taking you against the side of his truck as you both attempted to say goodbye the following day. You not wanting to leave and him not wanting you to either, his lips crashed on to yours in the neediest way and the feeling of his half hard cock pressed against your thigh didn’t help the situation. Before you knew it, you were tugging down his jeans whilst he was lifting your dress and whispering filth into your ears.

You didn’t care about the fact it was still light outside and if anyone had glanced over or a simple look had lingered for more than a second, they would have definitely seen what you we’re doing. Instead, you just pulled him closer to you and moaned breathlessly in his ear, purring his name as he hit that blinding spot of pleasure inside of you. Relishing in the filthy feeling of his cum slowly dripping out of you as you drove home.

Thinking about you, Francisco. Always thinking about you… See you tonight. You typed out quickly to him, before finishing your lunch and returning to work. The aching you’d built up in your core thinking about him would prove to be difficult to ignore, the slick dripping from your folds and creating a wet patch in your panties making you groan. This is the effect this man has on you.

Most of the day passes quite quickly, seeing patients and working through some admin – it isn’t until the very last hour of your shift that your seemingly happy day takes a turn for the worst. A man who missed his 1.55pm appointment turns up and begins screaming at the receptionist on duty, claiming it’s her fault she missed the appointment as she should have phoned him to remind him. You step out of the clinical room you we’re working from to see what the commotion was about, and he turned his anger on to you.

You attempted to resolve the situation by offering him an early morning slot the next day, but that angered him further. He screamed profanities and insults a few inches from your face for what seemed like forever until the security guard finally made his way inside and forced him out of the building. Apologising profusely to the patient in your room, you finished up with them and then the tears began to fall. You choked back hard sobs as the cruel words and disgusting way he spoke to you lingered in your brain.

INCOMING CALL: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales.

The vibrations from your desk made you jump slightly, and a warm feeling begins to spread in the pit of your stomach when you see his picture flashing up across your screen. You took the picture the morning after your date, a wide smile across his cheeks as he cooked you pancakes – the smile deep enough to reveal the adorable dimple on one of his cheeks.

“Hey, baby, do you need me to bring anything tonight?” he says quickly, and you smile at his usage of your favourite endearment.

“Just yourself, and the usual case of beer,” you reply, trying to hide the shakiness in your voice. It doesn’t work.

“Baby? What happened? Are you okay?” the tone of his voice changing as the worry seeps in between every word.

“Stupid patient. Missed his appointment and yelled in my face,” you say with a shrug, “Shouldn’t have let it get to me.”

“No, that fucking asshole shouldn’t have fucking yelled at you, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’ll be fine. Just feeling a little sensitive.”

“Promise to make you forget all about it, when we’re alone tonight.” He soothes through the phone and your body involuntarily clenches around nothing at the deep baritone of his voice lulling through your ears.

“Spent the whole day thinking about you, Frankie. I have one more person to see. Can’t be distracted by thinking about you speaking to me like that, baby.”

“Like what?” he says teasingly in that same rich tone.

“You have absolutely no idea what you’ve done to me already today without even knowing.” You admit with a slight smile.

“Care to elaborate, pretty baby?” and it’s like you can hear his smile.

“Later. See you in just over an hour. Don’t forget your overnight bag, I don’t intend on waking up tomorrow without you.”

“Already in my truck, see you soon, baby.”

You hang up the phone and you instantly feel better, you call in your next patient and the rest of your shift passes by without a hitch.

The boys are all coming around tonight. It’s not the typical game night, but a baseball team are one game off cinching their division and they’re thinking tonight is the night.

Benny is already in the kitchen and on the phone to a local pizza joint confirming the ridiculously large order that was placed and paid for a few days previously. He nods at you as you enter still speaking to the owner and you pour yourself a much-needed glass of red.

You shower as quickly as you can, feeling a little ashamed that you bought your glass of wine into the bathroom with you. Taking large gulps in between washing your hair and shaving your legs. You slip on a yellow sundress, blow-dry your hair and reapply your usual minimal make up before going to help Benny set up.

“So, first time everyone is seeing you and Frankie since you started… what? Dating?” Benny says with a slight grin as you enter the room, and butterflies appear in your stomach. You can’t deny being a little nervous, obviously Benny had seen him pick you up for your date but tonight was going to be the first time, you’d hung out with everyone as his girl.

You nod at him, and he laughs at your display of shyness, “Don’t worry, Buttercup. We know you won’t take advantage of our friend.”

Santi arrives first, arms laden with beer and snacks. Marlins cap placed firmly on his head, he greets you with a signature wink and begins yelling at Benny about setting up the TV not wanting to miss a single second of a game not due to start for another hour.

Tom and Will arrive next – Will popping into the kitchen to pull you into a brief hug before joining the guys in the living room to discuss the upcoming game.

“Did Benny order the pizza?” Will asks you as you enter the room.

“He ordered an absurd amount of pizza.” You confirm with a smile.

You chat quietly to Tom for a few minutes about an upcoming shopping date you have planned with his wife, and he rolls his eyes recalling the list of items she’s planning on picking up for their teenage daughter. “How can someone who spends 95% of her spare time in her room, still cost me so much money?”

The sound of Frankie’s truck pulling up sends a shiver down your spine, Benny running over to whip the door open so he can waltz right in, and when he does the urge to wrap your arms around him and pull him into a kiss is unbearably tempting but you also don’t want to embarrass him. So, you figure you’ll stand back and wait until he makes his way to you. You’ve been clutching a beer for him in your hand for the past few minutes and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by the guys.

He looks good. Really good. Like really, really, really good. Wearing a fitted blue shirt with the top 3 buttons undone that shows off his perfectly broad shoulders in a way that makes you want to dig your nails into them, and a pair of dark blue jeans. You smile at the lack of his trusty hat, and the sight of his light brown curls falling effortlessly down his head. He greets the guys with a nod and Santi pulls him in for a hug, and then his eyes finally meet yours.

You don’t miss how his eyes dip up and down over the length of you a few times, clearly enjoying the yellow sundress you bought to impress him. You reach out your hand to pass him the bottle of beer you’ve been holding for him, and you smile at the way he briefly traps your fingers under his. “You look beautiful, baby” he whispers in your ear before you pull the overnight bag off his shoulders and quietly take it in your room, leaving him to converse with the guys.

You pretty much hang back for the majority of the evening feeling a little in the way, you’re a bit disappointed the guys didn’t bring the girls along to keep you company – so you hang back and start preparing napkins and paper plates for the incoming pizza delivery.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t hear or see Frankie come in until he rests a large palm of the small of your back, you go to speak but he pulls you in for a deep kiss. “Wanted to do that the moment I saw you,” he breathes into your lips peppering a few kisses between each word.

“I wanted you to.” You quietly admit whilst resting your forehead against his, “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby. It was the greatest feeling waking up with you still curled up in my arms on Sunday,” he gently begins kissing your face and down across to your earlobe before nibbling it playfully before whispering in your ear, “Missed fucking you into my mattress moments after you woke up, mhmm and hearing you moan my name as you came all over my cock.”

“Frankie,” you gasp, and he flips you around to face him and he presses himself up against you, the thickness of his semi-hard cock against your thigh making you bite down hard on your lower lip, “Fuck, I need you.”

A low throaty chuckle escapes his mouth as he gently pulls apart your legs and carefully slides one of his legs between yours. Pressing you against the kitchen counter as he encourages you to roll down on his thigh, his hands finding your hips as you take your first experimental roll. The friction of his jeans and the hard plain of his thick thigh makes you moan into the crook of his neck. “Shush, baby,” he whispers in your ear, as you find your rhythm. The way you’re stood isn’t the most comfortable position but the way he’s encouraging you to find relief from the ache you’ve had built inside you all day is exhilarating, “Keep going, good girl” he encourages as he hikes your dress up high enough to reveal the lace panties you’re currently soaking through, “Fuck,” he murmurs as he runs his fingertips across the material before pulling them to the side, “Want you dripping wet. Want plenty to taste, when I get you into bed later,” his filth flooding your ears as he brings one hand up off of your hip to cup your cheek bringing you into a kiss. Your soft whimpers being breathed into his mouth as the fiction on your bundle of nerves becomes too much and you cum on his thigh leaving a small patch of wetness.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you mumble into the crook of his neck, as he wraps his arms around your waist, “They could have walked in, fuck. What are you doing to me?”

“Keeping my promise,” he says with a wink as he pulls you in for another kiss, “Come watch the game with us, baby.” He grabs the stack of paper plates and napkins you piled up in one hand and entangled your fingers with his in the other.

Many slices of pizza, and half a bottle of wine later you’re snuggled up to Frankie on the sofa – half watching the game, half going back and forth with Santi who’s made it his mission to tease you and Frankie all night. One arm wrapped around your shoulder, and the other moving his knuckles up and down your side. Occasionally whispering the sweetest words in your ear and then moving back to whisper pure filth.

You notice the way his mouth curls up at the sight of you squeezing your thighs together as he promises to make you cum in his mouth over and over.

“So, what are the plans for next Friday?” Tom asks pulling you out of the little spell Frankie had put you under.

“Birthday boy mans the BBQ and buys the beer,” Benny says with a smirk glancing over at Frankie, “Ain’t that right, Cisco?”

“Fine by me. As long as none of you fuckers turn up,” he counters back with a bigger smirk, “Except this one.” His says whilst giving you an obvious squeeze and you blush.

The conversation resumes and plans are made official, everyone including wives/girlfriends at Frankies by 6:30pm and everyone brings a case of beer and a bottle of wine.

“You never told me it’s your birthday next week.” you mumble into his neck.

“You never asked.” He says with a cheeky wink.

“I never asked if it was your birthday next week? Mhmm. Good point.” you say slightly shoving his shoulder.

After the game went into extras and the team managed to clinch their division, Santi suggests a short walk down to a local bar for a few more drinks. Benny, Will and Tom practically jump off their feet at the suggestion before turning their attentions to you and Frankie, “I’m wiped,” you say with a slight shrug, “Yeah, I’m pretty beat too,” Frankie agrees with a smirk.

“Picking sex over hanging out with your friends? Disgraceful.” Santi shouts whilst disappearing out of the door and you hear Will and Benny groan in reply.

And the moment they’re gone, you’re on him. It’s like something snaps within you and you’re flipping over to straddle him, lips hungrily chasing his, licking your way into his mouth and running your fingers through his messy hair. “Fucking missed you,” he grits out into your mouth as you tighten your grip on his hair, “Fucked my hand so many times thinking about you.”

“Funny, because I’ve been thinking about those hands non-stop, baby,” you whimper into his lips.

“My hands?”

“Mhmm. I fucking love your hands, Francisco.”

“Tell me,” He orders moving his lips down to your neck and sucking gentle bruises into your soft skin, “What was I doing with my hands?”

“Touching me, squeezing my tits, stretching me out with your -ah, frankie- thick fingers and mhmm wrapping your hands around my neck as you fuck your big hard cock into me.”

“Fuck,” he grits out, removing his mouth from your neck “You want to feel my hands around that pretty little throat, baby?”

“Yes. Need it,” you groan as your hips seek friction beneath you, “Need you. Now.”

Without a single beat he’s pushing you up onto your feet and guiding you into your room, your dress being peeled off the second your door slams shut – falling to your ankles as he hungrily grabs at your ass. “Want to do terrible things to you on that bed, sweet baby.”

“I want you to, need you to make me yours.”

“You already are,” he replies with a growl, unhooking your bra as quickly as he can and discarding just as fast. You moan when his large calloused palms reach up to squeeze them whilst his tongue dances against yours, “Fucking love these titties.”

He lowers you down on the edge of your bed and lowers down onto his knees, “Gonna worship this pretty little pussy tonight, baby girl.”

He spreads your legs as wide as he can before closing him self into the space, peppering kisses on your still clothed mound, parting his mouth to let the lacy fabric of your panties to tickle his plush lips. He licks a wide stripe up and down before tearing off your panties. His tongue delving into your already soaked folds, lapping up your arousal with delight. “So, fucking wet for me, pretty girl.” He snarls before continuing his delicious assault on your sensitive nub, licking up and down and gently sucking on it as your fingers lock up in his hair. Moaning his name over and over until your thighs tremble, and you can no longer speak – breathlessly moaning as your pleasure centre explodes and you’re reduced to a sobbing mess as he keeps his tongue moving throughout your high. Only stopping when you jerk away from overstimulation.

“Good fucking girl, but I’m not finished down here yet,” he grits before licking down to your entrance, lapping up the still leaking stream of arousal from your orgasm, before pushing his tongue deep inside of you and out again, repeating this over and over until you’re writhing around in pleasure and then drawing large circles of your still sensitive clit with his thumb. Only satisfied when you begin to tremble again, when your chanting of his name dies down to broken gasps and you’re pushing his face deeper into your core as a second orgasm rips through your body.

“Frankie,” you whisper you feel your pussy clenching around his tongue, “Frankie.”

He slowly removes himself from your drenched core, moving up and over your body to drop a fleeting peck to your lips, “I’m here, baby, I’ve got you,” he soothes as he moves the hair stuck to your damp forehead, “Are you coming back to me, querida?”

You open your eyes and release your teeth from your bottom lip before nodding slowly, watching a bright smile break out across his gorgeous face, “You are incredible, Francisco,” You mumble before cupping his cheek and bringing him down for a kiss, “But you’re also painfully dressed.”

The low chuckle he breathes out makes you clench again; the deep raspy baritone of his voice makes you feel like you could cum just from listening to the noises he makes alone.

Without any real care he starts ripping open the buttons of his shirt and throwing it to the ground. He keeps his eyes on you as he undoes the buttons of his jeans and pulls them down, his hardened cock instantly springing free due to his lack of underwear and your mouth salivates at the sight. Tip bright red and steadily leaking pearly drops of pre-cum, hanging heavily between his legs. Fuck. Your legs automatically widening further as your walls flutter in anticipation for that glorious stretch.

He swipes his thumb across the top, collecting a bead of his arousal and he brings it up to your mouth. Rubbing his cum across your bottom lip and watching as you slowly poke your tongue out to taste him on your lip. “So good.” You croak out, wanting more, “So fucking good.”

He growls out and you can’t help but moan at the filthy sound, “That’s my girl,” he groans, “So fucking filthy. So, fucking perfect.”

He grips the base of his cock and slowly swipes it through your folds, the underside of his throbbing length being coated in your slick. “You feel so good, baby,” he praises as you begin to rock your hips up into his movements.

His free hand finds your hip and he stops moving, slightly moving his cock up and away from your folds, his eyes lock into yours as he begins to slap your clit with the head of cock. Filthy moans escaping your lips, “Fuck, Frankie, please.” you beg as he grunts in pleasure.

“Please, what, baby? Use your fucking words.” The rasp of his voice making you quiver beneath him.

“Fuck me, please, n-need you to fuck me,” you beg, as he continues slapping your bundle of nerves with his cock, “Please.”

“Mhmm, I think I need to make you cum like this first. Use the tip of my cock on that pretty little clit,” he soothes before he stops the slapping and gently moves it up and down against your nub, “Don’t you want me to make you cum like this, pretty girl?”

You groan underneath him, “Yes.”

He continues rubbing the tip against you, occasionally slapping it against you again until your third orgasm arrives. His fingers replacing his cock as you ride it out by screaming his name. “You’re doing so fucking well, carino.”

You pull him in for another quick kiss, before he presses himself up against your entrance. “Ready for me, baby?” he asks with a wink.

“Always.”

You take a deep inhale as you prepare for his delicious stretch, he guides himself into you and sweet praises drop from his lips throughout. Inch by inch, you gasp in delight until he’s filled you to the hilt. Every part of him buried deep inside your warm soft cunt, ready for him to start moving and ready to feel him come apart inside of you.

His thrusts start off harder than usual, still not too rough, but hard enough to make you gulp at his pace. His hands grip on both of your hips whilst you squeeze your tits for him, watching his jaw drop open at the display you’re putting on for him, “Good girl,” he mumbles, as you take your left nipple in between your fingers and roll it around. It doesn’t take long under he’s bending over to take it into his mouth, continuing to pound in and out of you, pace increasing as you start to dig your fingernails into his shoulder blades, creating the half-moon crescents that brand him as yours.

“You remember your safe word?” he whispers into your sensitive nipple before taking it back into his mouth.

“Yes.” You say as a delicious feeling of anticipation spreads through you.

He releases your nipple you a loud pop, and moves up to kiss your lips, the pressure of his lips on yours hard and needy. “If you can’t say it, you tap my hand twice, okay? And I’ll stop immediately.”

“Yes, tap your hand twice.”

“Good girl.”

He moves back up and his pace becomes unrelenting, finding that spot that only he’s been able to find so effortlessly and then his large palm spreads around your throat. Applying the lightest amount of pressure as he gloriously fucks himself into you, “Fucking love this pussy,” he grunts out, as your hips roll up and down in time with his. The sound of slapping skin and filthy moans filling the air around you, as his grip on your throat tightens.

His other hand leaves your hip and moves down in between your bodies, his thumb once again finding your clit, “You’re going to cum aren’t you, baby? Can feel how tight you’re gripping me, dirty girl,” he rasps out, “Cum for me, cum on my cock, pretty girl.” He pressure of his thumb increasing on your bundle of nerves at the same time the grip on your neck gets harder, “F-fra-Frankie” you stutter out, as white blinding pleasure overwhelms your body, your back arching and your walls tightening around him harder than ever, as his thumb shows no signs of slowing down, intent on rubbing your clit as you ride out your orgasm. You don’t know how long it lasts, but your body convulses desperately beneath him, like electric shocks tearing through you as you cum. Harder and stronger than you ever have before.

“Fuck,” you choke out as you fall back down into the bed, feeling his thrusts get sloppier and sloppier.

“Going to fill this pussy right up, baby, make it mine,” he stutters out, a longer pause between each word as he begins to paint your walls. The warmth of his cum making you moan as you feel each rope coat your insides. The moment his cock finally stops pulsing, he pulls out and falls back down on to his knees. Watching your fluttering hole and making sure to push every glob of his cum back inside of you.

You lay there motionless, feeling thoroughly fucked and exhausted in the best possible way.

He says nothing as he goes into your bathroom to dampen a cloth to clean you up with, before discarding it to one side and pulling you up into the bed and under the covers with him.

He pulls you onto his chest and lazily drops kisses on to you scalp as he wraps his arms around you, holding you as tightly as he can as you start to drift off. Exhaustion taking over both of you sated bodies, “The past few weeks with you have been incredible, querida, I can’t wait to spend more time with you.” He whispers into the top of your head as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, you pepper a loving kiss into his warm skin before replying, “Me too, baby.”

[charnelhouse]

Triple Frontier & Zombies

I've been a real shit about my TF boys so here is a smidge of what i'm writing for zombie! au tf poly vibes palooza. Frankie Morales featured and perhaps a callback to another Pedro character? Major feral and concerned Francisco.

There is serious serious gore In this so be warned.

It's a colossal fuck-up. You'd gotten lazy or lax and didn't scan the perimeter around the deserted gas station. Frankie is trying to hotwire an abandoned car and then the alarm screeches - the unbearably loud bweep bweeep that works like a dinner bell as the dead begin to creep and crawl through the dense maze of trees off the highway.

They come from everywhere. They come from behind - out of the storage room at the back of the station. Your right and left. You go blind with terror because it's just you and Frankie and he's barking orders at you to get the fuck out - to get to the car.

You watch one fall into him - take him right down.

The thing - the body - some rotting corpse that is oozing black blood and pock-marked with white slants of bone protruding through hanging flesh. It smells like bloat - like when you’d found that dead raccoon in the pond at the back of your house. Huge and swelling with shit and no - fuck this smells absolutely worse.

Frankie is on his back and he’s shoving at the snapping mouth - his hand around its neck as all that soft tissue gives way.

You’re still stuck - fighting through a mass of staggering dead and slamming a blade through every eye that shines and gleams red and yellow and rheumy.

“Frankie,” you cry. “Frankie...”

He can’t hear you though, you’re just outside of his reach and your heart is in your throat - pounding rhythmically and snapping through the tissue of your neck. You should have brought the others - Will or Benny or Santi to help you both get supplies.

“It’ll be fine, Will.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, babe. No big.”

You watch Frankie’s cap get knocked off - the tumble of those dark brown curls as he growls and snarls and his nostrils flare and then he’s roaring as he starts to shove his thick fingers deep into the zombie’s eye sockets. He shoves and keeps on shoving as blood spurts and the tissue squelches and there’s the dribble of jellied-something until the entire skull cracks under the pressure of his fingers and he must hit the brain because the thing goes slack and lifeless.

He scrambles from underneath it as it flops to the side. He’s drenched up to his elbows in stuff and then he’s racing toward you - hatchet snapped up from the asphalt as he brings it down on the dead that just keep coming up against you. The wave of more rot and flesh and every tiny possibility of that death sentence. A nibble - a scratch - a true bite.

You fight and fight, but you’re also tired. You’re on your last scrape of adrenaline.

“Frankie,” you whisper as everything begins to settle and he picks off the lingering dead. The squish and wet sucking give of his weapon piercing through those sun-rotten heads. There’s a scream threatening to drive itself over the crest of your tongue. “Frankie....”

He’s in front of you - his hands on your face smearing whatever on your cheeks as he cradles your jaw. “Baby,” he mutters. “You’re okay. They’re gone.”

You’re shaking - lower lip quivering as you try to swallow your tongue. You’re normally fine - you’re normally totally cool with this shit, but Frankie almost died. It had been seconds and inches and those snapping, gnashing teeth millimeters from his flesh. You’d have had to end him yourself - put him out of his misery - put him down like a fucking dog and that’s when a sob cracks from your chest.

“Aw fuck - baby,” he soothes. “Honey - I’m fine. You gotta get yourself together. We have to make it home.

He grabs you hard around the shoulders, ducking his head to catch your eyes. His gaze is concerned - heavy with worry and you know it’s entirely for you and the fact that you’re slightly losing your mind right here - right now.

He’s already forgotten the attack - the gunk on his hands that he’s left on your shirt - his jeans.

He says something low to himself - hurried and under his breath before he yanks you toward him and kisses you roughly. It’s blunt and sour with his sweat and his tongue slides forward as he moves his lips over your own. He snags your lower lip between his teeth and bites it softly - the sting jerking you out of your panic.

Frankie always using physical touch to ground you. It works for him so it works for you. You cling to his shirt -stroking the silky overgrown curls at the base of his neck.

“You’re safe,” he assures you - broad chest heaving from want or exertion or exhaustion or fucking anything. “You’re safe, sweetheart. I’m safe.”

[insomniamamma]

Masterlist: Oh crap I guess I write fic now (and some original art)

Prospect:

Egret AU:

Greenhorn: Young!Ezra x F!reader

Fairy Tale of Puggart Bench: Young!Ezra X F!reader

Entangled: Young!Ezra x F!reader

Nightswimming: Young!Ezra x F!reader

Prickle:

Prickle: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

Brigand: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

Rain: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

Pigment: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

Where the Heart is: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

Clean Dirt: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

Ribbons and Wings: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

Screaming Mimis: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

Sacellum: Ezra xF! reader w/Cee

Safe: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

Found: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee **smut**

Night of Hunters: Ezra xF!reader w/Cee

Fancy: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

Indulgence: Ezra x F!reader

Christmas in the Ephrate: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

Seasonal: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

Ezra + Little Microfic: Ezra x F!reader

Glory: Ezra x f!reader

Liminal:

“Ferris Wheels Are For Old People”: Ezra x F!Reader w/Cee

Liminal: Ezra and Cee (no reader insert)

“Surf City Goodness”: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

Late Bloomers: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

Tricks (Or How Bee Girl Got Seduced Into A Life of Crime): Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

Oneshots:

Euphemisms: Ezra x F!reader

To Have and to Hold: Ezra x Gn!Reader

Persistence: Ezra xF!Reader w/Cee

Remain Nameless: Ezra and Cee w/Gn!Reader

Collide: Ezra x Gn!Reader

Stuck: Ezra x f!reader

Ezra + Hopeful Microfic: Ezra and Cee

Tessellation: Ezra and Cee

Needles & Pins: Tattoo Artist!Ezra x f!reader w/cee

Threefold: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee

Gravity: Ezra x F!reader

Headcannons:

Soft!Ezra headcannons

The Mandalorian:

Blue Morning: Fennec Shand x f!Twi’lek reader

The Shallow: Din Djarin x F!reader

Dragon AU:

Dragon: Boba Fett x Gn!Reader

Small Stakes: Boba Fett x Gn!Reader

Bright Lights, Big City: Boba Fett x Gn!Reader

Atin’ika AU:

Stubborn: Din Djarin x Gn!reader

Hands: Din Djarin x Gn!reader w/Grogu

The Song of the Wrong Response: Din Djarin x Gn!reader

Triple Frontier:

About What We Want: Frankie Morales x f!pregnant!reader

Vanilla: Frankie Morales x f!reader **smut**

Pumpkin Guts: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Frisbees and Cherry Trees: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Over Easy: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Changes: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Maze (Changes AU): Frankie Morales x f!reader

The Triple Frontier Boys and Kittens

The Triple Frontier Boys and Spiders

House Comes With A Bird:

Ephemera: Nico (House Comes with a Bird) x f!reader.

Surrender: Nico (House Comes with a Bird) x f!reader

Nautical Twilight: Nico (House Comes with a Bird) x f!reader

Sometimes You Can’t Make It On Your Own: Nico (House Comes with a Bird) x f!reader

Nico NSFW Alphabet

Somnophilia with Nico

Crowdstrike: Nico (House Comes with a Bird) x f!reader

The Last of Us:

In The Light They Both Look The Same: Joel Miller x f!sexworker!reader

Spinner: Joel MIller X F!reader

Forever’s Gonna Start Tonight: Joel Miller x F!reader

Year of Kisses: 

Closing Time: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Glory: Ezra x f!reader (Prickle’verse AU)

The Shallow: Din Djarin x F!reader

Tessellation: Ezra and Cee

Threefold: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee

Gravity: Ezra x F!reader

We Came Along This Road: Frankie Morales x F!reader

Fan  Art:

Fae King Ezra

Haunted Din

Naga Oberyn

Nico on the rooftop in a sunset made beautiful by smog

Selkie Cee

Original Art:

Art thing(webcomic IDK what the actual title is yet):

Panel 1 comms array

Panel 1 progress vid

Panel 2 control console (in progress)

J!TheMando:

J! as a Mandalorian:

used this Halloween photo as reference:

j!TheMando progress

j!TheMando progress 2

j!TheMando progress 3

j!TheMando progress 4

j!TheMando progress5

j!TheMando progress so far

Moodboards:

Rainer Maria Rilke

aesthetic game

queen of poisons

Azra Tabassum (Ezra vibes)

 ​

[queridopascal]

Hi there! Something that screams frankie morales to me is those misty/foggy/dewey Saturday mornings. The ones with chilly overcast weather perfect for a walk to the coffee shop and window shop with friends. Could you please write a fic inspired by this please?

Hi there anon and thank you for sending this in 💜 I love this vibe (especially since where I live it's one of those days today!) and hope you like it ✨

Back-up plan (Frankie Morales x F!Reader)

Warning: fluff, mention of food and drinks, a single allusion to sexy times

annie's 500 followers celebration ✨ (NOW CLOSED)

"Morning babe." Frankie smiles at you with sleepy eyes, his hair an unruly tangle of dark curls that you immediately brush away from his forehead.

"Morning handsome," you mumble as you scratch his beard lovingly and rest one leg over his.

Frankie turns to the side to kiss you, but you push him away gently and shake your head.

"Morning breath."

"Don't care," he says as one of his hands comes up to cup your cheek "come here and let me taste those lips of yours."

You giggle as he brings his face closer and presses his mouth on yours in a tender kiss, so delicate it feels like the gentle brush of a feather against your lips.

Once you both get up and go open the blinds, Frankie's smile turns into a pout when he notices the grey sky and the thin layer of mist that covers the whole neighbourhood.

"I think we should postpone our trip to the lake…" you sigh as you walk over to him and place your head on his shoulder, looking outside the window.

"Yeah," he exhales and turns to you "do you have a back-up plan?"

You nod with a smile "We could take a walk to the coffee shop, get their cappuccino and some of their delicious brownies, and then we could meet up with the others at the mall. What do you think?"

Frankie grabs you by the hips and turns you around slowly, so that your chest is now pressed against his bare one.

"Sounds good." he whispers as he places a little kiss on your forehead.

Half an hour later, you're both walking down the street to the coffee shop: the weather is chilly, almost autumnal, and the wet smell of night time rain still lingers in the air.

As soon as you enter the place, Frankie drags you to a secluded table in the corner, and you both take a seat as you wait to place your order; the atmosphere is peaceful, and the usual chatter of the customers has been replaced by barely audible jazz music and background noises coming from the coffee machines.

Once the waiter sets your breakfast on the table, Frankie wastes no time in devouring the brownies, repeating how good they are and how they remind him of the ones his mother used to make.

When you finish eating, you stay there a little more, cuddling and enjoying the quietness as you do some people watching.

Eventually, you both leave the coffee shop and head out to the mall, where the others are waiting for you. Pope, Benny and Will are standing right beside the entrance with their respective girlfriends, and they immediately wave at the both of you as you approach them.

"Morning guys." Frankie walks overt to them and greets them with a hug.

"You ladies ready for some window shopping?" Pope asks playfully as he looks at you.

"Hopefully not just window shopping." you glance at him and Frankie places one hand on the small of your back, guiding you as the group enters the mall.

While you walk past one of your favorite shops, your eyes land on one of the prettiest sundresses you've ever seen, made of a beautiful cream white fabric and embroidered with tiny pink flowers.

"That looks lovely," Frankie hugs you from behind and rests his head atop of yours "you should get it."

"Yeah?" you ask, and you tilt your head to the side to examine the dress even further.

"Yeah, you'd look gorgeous in it," he says as he ducks his head to whisper in your ear "but you'll look even more gorgeous when I'll take it off of you."

You gasp at his words and he grins against your cheek, knowing damn well the effect he has on you when he talks to you like that.

"I think I'm gonna buy it." you state, freeing yourself from his arms and winking at him as you get into the store.

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @withakindheartx @myguiltypleasures21 @computeringturtle @lilpopizzle @sara-alonso @radiowallet @evelynseventyr @thatgirlselectryc  @shadowolf993  @janebby @kirsteng42 @cheekygeek05 @jenacide02 @t3rradactyl @anditsmywholeheart @andiesturgss @tothejedi @mswarriorbabe80 @spideysimpossiblegirl @sunfairyy @sleep-tight1 @jediknight122 @carstwirs @donnaa @miulola @jeeperky @the-wishmonger @aana4664 @hnt-escape @agingerindenial @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell @hb8301 @snow302085 @elegantduckturtle @darnitdraco @omlwhatamidoinghere @heythere-mel @tobealostwanderer @serini-ty

FRANKIE TAGLIST: @hunnambabe @writeforfandoms @linnie0119 @shinymoonstarfish @gingib @pedritoispunk @audreyispunk

[psychedelic-ink]

Be There ║ Frankie Morales

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

genre: smut, pwp, hurt/comfort vibes, minors dni

word count: 1.6k

summary: you think frankie might leave you just like everyone else, he proves otherwise.

warnings: period sex, established relationship, the fear of being left alone, insecurities, self-doubt/hate, creampie, fingering, blood is mentioned (obv), frankie is a dream and I want him, a bit of feral frankie

a/n: this isn't beta-read or anything, literally sat down and wrote this in one go because I'm feeling kinda shitty and cramping 🥺 hope you guys enjoy tho!

“Are you okay?”

“No I’m not, obviously,” 

You can’t help but snap. You also can’t help the way your eyes fill with incoming tears, the way your lungs collapse in on itself, the way your voice trembles with every word you spit out. You’re venomous. That’s what you feel like. You’re nothing, everyone just wants you to leave, disappear and you know it. It’s just a matter of time he gets tired of you too. They all leave. Even guys as nice as Frankie. His presence lurks behind you, tall and strong. Suddenly you feel very small, a speck of dust waiting to blow away with the faintest of winds. 

“Hey, come on now, tell me what’s going on,” 

You clench your fingers around the kitchen counter hard enough that your knuckles turn white. You want to cry but you also want a hug. You just don’t want to feel worthless anymore, you want to be loved, to be taken care of and not be afraid of them leaving at the first inconvenience. You want to feel protected. But you know that it’s an impossible thing to ask from someone, who would be crazy enough to stay with you? He’s going to leave too. You’re loud, stubborn, and angry easily– Sure you have some good qualities too, you’re nice for starters but those qualities are never enough. His palm curves along the back of your shoulders, fingers providing a gentle squeeze before loosening up again. 

“Please,” 

You’re not strong enough to stay silent. 

“I’m on my period,” 

“That…” an airy chuckle parts from his lips. His breath ghosts over your nape and a shudder climbs up your spine. “That doesn’t really answer my question,”

“You asked what’s going on,” 

“I did but I was hoping for more of an explanation,” he presses the bridge of his nose against the back of your head, his voice low as he speaks. “Is it cramps? Do you have a headache? Is it something emotional? You need to tell me baby so I can help you,” 

“You don’t want to help me,” 

“What?”

He pulls away, sounding genuinely surprised. Before you can peel yourself away from his grip, he turns you around, the dip of your waist now digging into the edge of the marble counter. There’s a slight sting to it but it’s something you can quickly ignore beneath Frankie’s stare. His brows knitted together, he lets out a slow breath, his eyes scream home to you and it makes your heart ache. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to help you?”

You avert your eyes, throat closing up as you blink away the tears. 

“Because I’m annoying,” you mutter. “And don’t deserve someone like you. I know that I can get a bit intense at times, no one really wants me around but I really don’t want you to leave…I–I–I don’t want to go back to being all alone,” 

Your face contorts with incoming tears. The first sign of the mask breaking is the tremble of your lips, the sniffle from your nose and lastly the tears sliding down your face, hot and wet. Frankie’s eyes widen momentarily before pulling you in for a hug, his strong arms coiling around you tight enough for your chest to ache. His one hand gingerly holds the back of your head, and the other sneaks between your waist and the counter. 

“Why would I leave?” he whispers. “You’re not any of those things you just said, none of it. You hear me?” when you nod, he lets out a breath of relief. “I’m not going anywhere, bonita. You don’t need to be afraid, you’re not alone anymore, never will be ever again,” 

You want to believe him, you really do. But the dark thoughts swirling in your mind whispers otherwise. He seems to hear it too. That’s what you assume anyway. His gaze moves across your face, taking in every furrow of your brow, twitch of your lip and he leans into you, tongue tracing the salty tears streaks left across your cheeks. Head builds between your legs, a shudder running along your spine. 

“Stop it,” he mutters, lips moving across your skin. “Stop thinking, I’m here. Focus on me. Can I touch you?”

Frantic and emotional, you nod, fingers digging into his shoulders as he lifts you to the counter. It doesn’t take you long for a fog to settle within your mind. Frankie’s lips find your neck, teeth gently nipping the sensitive skin as he tugs down your sweatpants. A gasp tears away from your lips when two fingers dip under the waistband of your panties and traces your slit. He groans, tongue tasting the salt of your skin, he presses his fingers into your with ease. 

“So fucking wet, shit,” 

His gaze meets yours, you’re still tense, not knowing this will be as fun as he thinks. You definitely want to continue, already feeling relieved with the touch of his fingers, but you don’t want to force him to do this just because you cried a little. He curls his fingers, and when your insides clench around him, he moans, mouth parting wide as he looks directly into your eyes. Tears build in your eyes once more, heart hammering in your chest. Pleasure looks good on him. 

“You feel so good, baby,” he starts to fuck you with his fingers, the sound of it echoing across the walls. You feel so dirty but in the best way possible. “So wet for me, allowing me to push my fingers– You’re so amazing, how could I ever leave you when you make me feel like– fuck– Like the most wanted man on earth,” 

“Frankie–” your voice shakes, hands clawing at the front of his shirt. The ache between your legs proves to be too strong for you to handle. “Please, I need you inside me– Need you to fill me up–” 

“You sure?”

“Y-Yes, if you want to, of course,” 

He chuckles, shaking his head, “Just say the word and I’ll fuck you till the end of time,” 

Frankie’s hands slide under your shirt, softly squeezing both of your breasts as his fingers play with your pebbled nipples. You keen at the feeling, body tingling with pleasure, your already sensitive tits heaving with every roll of his fingers. Rolling up your shirt, he draws a stiff nipple into his mouth, tongue lapping and drawing slow circles around the swollen nub. His free hand quickly pulls himself out of the confinements of his pants, a growl rattles his chest as he strokes himself. Your head falls back at the feeling of his cock nudging apart your wet folds, he pulls away from your chest, a string of saliva following. 

He looks down, lips parted as he pushes into you. Normally he would have to prepare you more, at least make you cum once if he wants a smooth entry. But you’re so ready, so needy for him that it doesn’t matter, he slides into you with ease, buried balls deep in a second. His eyes roll back when your pretty cunt flutters around him, both of you heaving out relieved sighs at being connected. Frankie draws his hips back, watching the red coating the length of his cock, glistening under the light. Something feral awakens inside him. He can’t believe you’re letting him have you like this, he wishes you’d let him sooner. 

Frankie’s eyes flicker to yours. Your face is twisted in pure pleasure, whine after whine leaving your spit soaked lips. He crashes into you, shoving his tongue between your lips while the movement of his hips becomes faster. His cock twitches at the way you moan into his mouth, so needy, his thrusts are hard, yet slow, you feel every inch of him and your head falls back, involuntarily parting from his heated mouth. 

“Frankie I’m gonna cum,” you breathe out, words slurring. 

“Already?” he smiles, dipping into your neck. “You’re amazing, love the way you’re squeezing around me bebita, cum, let me feel all of it,” 

His hips stutter, breathing hitched and chest heaving as he slams his hips. Frankie can feel your thighs desperately twitching around his frame, slick drips down his length, a bit of it meandearing down his thighs as he fuck deeper, harder into you. Your nails bite into his skin, and his teeth dig into yours. Both of you desperately trying to consume one another, his balls tightens, cock throbbing, aching for release. He takes in a sharp breath, he needs to wait, he wants you to cum first. Mind spinning, he presses his swollen lips into your ear. 

“You’re beautiful,” he raps. “If I could, I would put a bullet into every head that made you feel like this, you deserve the world,” 

He sees the crystal tears sliding down your face, you smile, it’s the brightest thing he’s ever seen. 

“I already have the world,” 

Frankie’s hips snap forward, stilling as he emptied himself into you, a loud moan rattles in his throat, eyes half lidded, he leans and drags his mouth across the curve of your breasts. 

Well…so much for waiting. 

When his mind clears a little, he hears you. Hears the way you’re whimpering his name, spasming as you come undone, cunt fluttering and twitching around him. He hisses out a breath, without even thinking he presses into you more, his cock twitches, more of him seeping into your deepest parts. This time your head falls forward right onto his shoulder, he presses a wet kiss into your temple and keeps himself still until your breathing returns to normal. 

“You feeling better now?”

“Yeah,” you sigh heavenly, eyes closed. “Thank you Frankie, for being in my life,” 

“The same goes for you too, you know. I would be lost without you. You’re my word just as much as I’m yours,” 

You hum into his neck, he can feel you smiling, his chest lightens. 

“Can we take a bath?” you mutter, sounding drowsy with sleep. 

“Of course, baby. Then I’ll lay you down alright? I’ll make you your favorite,” 

“I love you so much,” 

“I love you too.” 

follow @psychedeliclibrary and turn on notifs to be notified of the newest updates 💜

[ladyinthefrozenlake]

So, look, I know no one asked, but this has been haunting me since my last trip to Bath and Bodyworks and if I don't just, like, scream into the void about it for a few minutes, I'm going to combust.

SO, Bath and Bodyworks has a scent out called "Sweet Whiskey" that's a "rich blend of golden amber, vanilla-infused whiskey and sweet red berries." There's also one called, "Bourbon" that's a "smooth blend of white pepper, dark amber and Kentucky oak."

I ever since I encountered them, my head has been filled with nothing but thoughts of Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels from "Kingsman: The Golden Circle."

Like the imagines possibilities are endless.

You would have multiple options for an enemies-to-lovers scenario.

Maybe you're a fellow Statesman agent who has a snarky, snippy, back-and-forth, bickering-bantering, Beatrice-and-Benedick-Esque type thing going for him, and you get paired up on a mission or something and he finds out either one is almost exclusively the scent you wear and you have to grudgingly admit that, deep down, despite yourself, you wear it because it reminds you of him.

Maybe he finds out because you have to share like, a hotel room or something (and you could also inset the "there was only one bed" trope here, if you were so inclined).

Or, maybe you're a fellow agent with an on-again-off-again thing with him.

Maybe you're an agent from a rival or enemy agency, and his finding out and forcing your real feelings to the surface tips everything just enough where you change teams for him.

For fluffier fare, you'd have tons of options, too.

Maybe you're a fellow agent with a crush on him, or just someone he knows completely outside of the Statesmen who has a crush on him, and you wear whichever scent you choose to accompany your yearning. Maybe you've both been flirting and dancing around each other and you make sure to somehow let him know on purpose.

Maybe you don't think he'd ever be interested in you, but oh, he is, and he knows about your crush, but has just been waiting for the right moment to sweep you off your feet, and this is just the opportunity he needs.

Maybe you're both pining for each other like oblivious, love-sick idiots, each thinking the other isn't interested, and then this comes to light and that's *all* the invitation he needs to make a move.

Maybe you have an established relationship and he knows you wear your preferred scent because of him, and he loves it.

Or, like, you could mix and match with fluff and angst and smut if you're not a minor and interested in smut.

Personally, I like the Sweet Whiskey one best for this, but you could go with either. The Sweet Whiskey has a little more variety in products made for the scent (There's lotions/body creams, hand cream, fragrance mists, a celestial scrub, and body wash), where as there's less of a selection for Bourbon (There's a 3-in-1 hair/face/bodywash, a 2-in-1 bodywash/scrub, a solid deodorant and a deodorizing body spray, a bar of shea soap, a body cream lotion, and a cologne). Also, "Sweet Whiskey" is aimed more at women/femme people and "Bourbon" is aimed for at men/masc people, but you can go with whatever you want.

There's also a third scent you could go with, which is "Bonfire Bash," a "cozy blend of vanilla bourbon, creamy sandalwood and cashmere musk" (comes in a shower gel, a fragrance mist, a body cream, a body butter, and regular lotion), but I personally lean towards the "Sweet Whiskey." Although the "Bonfire Bash" also gives me some Frankie "Catfish" Morales Vibes.

You could also mix and match the fragrances, if you wanted to, and use a couple of different things from each scent line.

Okay, I just had to get that out of my system. I'm good now.

[guessimwritingficsagain]

To be seen, part One (Frankie Morales x reader)

Summary : Usually, you’d be babysitting your friend Jessie’s son but you had to come into work. Your colleagues are really excited because “the boys” are here, so you get the chance, for the first time, to see what the fuss is about. You probably need to get laid. 

Author’s note : This is gonna be a four or five chapter story, not clear on that yet. Frankie isn’t here much but the endgame is Frankie x Reader. This chapter is really here to set up the reader’s relationships and workplace.

Warning : Harassment 

____________________________________________________________

Chapter One :

« Yup, they’re here, » confirmed Anna, with a wink in Jessie’s direction, before she closed the kitchen’s door and went back to wait on the patrons. You were confused for a moment, but Jessie was jumping up and down in the small space, almost knocking over a bunch of plates she had been cleaning just before. She was vibrating with excitement. 

« You’re finally going to see what the fuss is about ! » She all but screamed. It dawned on you, then. 

The boys. 

So, here’s the story : once in a while, always on a Saturday, four dudes come in, sit down, drink a few beers, chat for a bit and call it a night. There used to be five, apparently, but one of them must have been kicked out of the group, according to Jessie. One of them is usually a little banged up - always the same. One of them always makes a point to flirt with whoever is waiting on them but it’s harmless. They tip well. Nothing special, right ? Except apparently, they’re hot. And Jessie juggles with this job and the kid, and she’s on her own, has been for a while now, so it is a big deal. Apparently. 

You’d been a bit worried with all the fuss she made about those guys, but then you remembered that her last date had been months ago and had ended with her coming home in tears, self-depreciating bullshit spilling out of her mouth, about her life, her failed mariage, the state of her car and the way she drank beer instead of wine and she shouldn’t because wine is more refined. 

So. You’d been worried. But you figured that nothing seemed wrong with those men, and that a little fantasy was harmless and sometimes needed. 

You’d never had first-hand experience with the four guys, though. You worked every other Saturday night but Jessie and you had an agreement with your boss, so you could babysit her kid the Saturday she worked since she couldn’t afford to pay someone. This Saturday, though, you had to make do and find someone to mind Clara because Phil, the cook, was sick and someone needed to replace him. 

You couldn’t cook for shit and Jessie could, so she was in the kitchen, you tended the bar and Anna waited on the patrons. You let her friend get a well-deserved sneak-peek at the table before you made your way back to the counter, making an off-hand, harmless remark that she needed to get laid as you walked through the door. Once you got behind the counter, you took a deep breath and looked around. 

Time to see what all the fuss is about. 

The place wasn’t overly crowded for a Saturday evening, but it was still early. You spotted the table pretty easily. It was one a bit away from the others, isolated, separated from most of the room by the pool but far enough from it not to be disturbed by the players and-

Oh. 

Oh. 

Maybe you needed to get laid, too. 

———

You were staring. You knew you were staring. Hard. But then again who on earth allowed those four men to look that good. Men should never look that good. Men that looked that good were trouble. And three of them definitely looked like trouble. It was written in the way they sat, like they were at home and not in a public space with other people, legs spread wide, radiating confidence. The last one, the one with a cap on his head, was on the shyer side, but still-

Trouble.

Here’s the thing. That dating thing, that wasn’t on your mind. You gave it a shot a few years back. You’d met her in college, and when you’d both ended up with an art history degree that proved to be useless, you’d moved in together, and you’d tried to open a bookshop that crashed and burned in less that two years, and all of your savings with it. Something had cracked in your relationship, then, and you’d both tried to fix it because you’d had a good thing. The break-up hadn’t been ugly, but mending both your broken hearts had taken time. You still called each other from time to time, true to your last promise : when things get easier, let’s not be strangers. It had been her - Linda - who had said it. You hadn’t had the heart, then. Now, five years later, you were glad she had. 

Five years later, you found yourself back in your home state, bartending on a Saturday night, that art history degree still useless but no longer leaving a sour taste in your mouth, a bitter sense of waste of time and money. You hadn’t had a date in three years - he had been nice, really pretty, you’d dated for a while but he’d wanted to become a big Wall Street boy and you just weren’t into that. It might be time to reconsider getting laid if you couldn’t look at a bunch of hot dudes without your brain turning to jelly, though. 

Somebody cleared of throat right in front of you and you snapped out of it, apologizing before getting the man’s order, good that his presence would prevent you from drifting away too much. Then the rush came, and you forgot about the table for a while. 

———

When Anna came back to give you a bunch of orders, she did so with an eyebrow slightly raised in expectation. You knew she wanted your feedback on that table, but you didn’t want to agree with Jessie and her, so you shrugged in a way you hoped looked casual and unaffected. She saw right through your bullshit. 

« Fine », you whispered. « They’re hot. Hot. » 

The patron at the barstool turned his head towards you and you felt your face burn. So much for whispering. Anna only laughed, head tilted back, her blonde hair waving as laughter shook her body. She was 25, beautiful in a traditional way. She was genuinely nice, and always saw the good in people. She was to this world what Jane was to Pride and Prejudice. 

Which is why, when the man sitting on the barstool leaned and said to her :

« You’re a pretty one, too. »

She just smiled and thanked him. Of course, he had to take that as an invitation. This could have been the beginning of a very beautiful story if not for the fact that he was old enough to be his father, knew it, didn’t care, and that this beer obviously wasn’t his first one. You hadn’t noticed when he first sat down but now that he had leaned in, you could smell it. He reeked of alcohol. 

« Wanna grab a drink sometimes ? See where that leads us ? »

Anna politely declined, and made to leave, but he grabbed her arm. You could tell it wasn’t meant to hurt her, just to hold her back, to prevent her from leaving, but you felt yourself tense. 

« Sir, » you said in a tone you hoped sounded firm and steady, « I’m going to ask you to leave my colleague alone. » 

He turned his head towards you and Anna took the opportunity to free herself from his grasp. She looked at you a second, a silent question (are you gonna be okay ?), and seemingly satisfied by your slight nod, she took off. 

« You’re not bad yourself, you know. » 

Steeling yourself, you turned to the patron. 

« This is inappropriate and I’m not interested, Sir. » 

But the man was relentless. When you said no for the third time he started muttering to himself, something about women all being bitches to him. You were getting really tense, and looked around to see where Anna was. She was at the boys’ table, watching you. Actually, the whole table was watching you as one of the men - the beat up one, your mind registered - was walking your way with purpose. 

— —— 

You were staring again, you realized. The man had taken a barstool too, right in front of you, and was waiting for you to say something. Probably a sentence. A coherent sentence. 

« Hi, what can I get you ? » 

Nice. One word at a time. You could do it. 

« Nothing, I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Benny. » 

He offered his hand. You took it. He was all sharp angles and there was something wild and dark in his eyes, but he had a nice, warm smile. Your hand seemed tiny in his. After a beat, you told him your own name. He gestured behind him, towards the table, still looking your way.

« My pals over there and I were wondering if you were new. Never saw you around. »

« I’m not. I guess I’m not around when you guys are. » 

« That’s what your colleague said. »

Bullshit.

He knew you saw right through it, and you tried to convey the fact that you appreciated the gesture without saying anything too obvious. There was no doubt that Benny would have no problem getting physical with the other guy at the counter if needed. But the man in question was standing awfully still, like he got the same vibe off of Benny you did. He’d stopped muttering and was looking very intently at his bottle. Benny kept going, and you soon saw what he was doing. He slightly turned and pointed towards his friends. You noticed Anna had gone back to work. 

« See the blonde guy over there ? That’s my idiot of a brother, Will. Guy with the cap is Frankie. Last one is Pope. » 

You raised your eyebrows at that. 

« Pope ? »

« Sorry, force of habit. His name is Santiago. Santi for short. We used to serve, Pope was his call sign, and I guess it stuck. » 

He shrugged, keeping the conversation light, but the mention of four ex-military casually sitting there and checking on you was enough for the other patron. He got up and left without a word. Your sigh of relief didn’t go unnoticed. 

« Santi saw something was off a while back with that guy, when he grabbed your colleague … »

« Anna », you automatically corrected.

« When he grabbed Anna, » Benni obliged. « She confirmed when she came to take our orders. » 

« Thank you. » 

You were used to dealing with that kind of stuff, but it was nice to have back-up, especially when the usual one wasn’t there. Normally, you’d go to Phil in the kitchen, but today, Jessie wouldn’t have been much of a match against a drunk guy would wanted some. Jessie, who was standing, you saw, right outside the kitchen door, gaping at you. 

« I never got your order », you stated, turning your attention back to Benny. 

He gave it again and you smiled. 

« It’s on the house. » 

———

« So his name is Benny. The blonde one, Will. That’s his brother. Then Santiago and Frankie. »

« Yes but which one is Santiago and which one is Frankie ? » all but whined Jessie. 

You were closing the place. Anna wasn’t saying anything but you could tell she was listening intently. 

« A bit too old for you, aren’t they ? » You quipped. 

She just laughed. 

« No harm in looking. » 

She was right. No harm. Meanwhile Jessie, arms waiving all around, complained :

« How come I tried to get their attention for weeks and something happens the first time you see them ? » 

« Yeah, it was a real pleasure to get harassed. I made sure it happened for the attention. All part of a very good plan. »

« Oh come on, » she shoved you playfully « you know what I mean. » 

The parking lot was empty. The cool air around you was quiet except for the occasional sound of a car going down the street nearby. The three of you fell silent, walking to Anna’s car. You kept silent during the drive, too, exhaustion settling in your bones. You knew you were lucky : tomorrow was your day off. Neither Anna nor Jessie had that chance. You’d be sleeping on Jessie’s couch tonight, just so you could babysit Clara. Your foggy brain betrayed you, then, and a bad thought came to you like a stab in the back :

When was the last time you saw a movie ? Went to an exhibit ?

You buried it, like you did every time you reminded yourself you were not where you thought you’d be at your age. When Anna pulled over in front of Jessie’s house, you thanked her and waited, silent again, as Jessie thanked her babysitter, winced as she paid her - you knew that was not something she could afford - and went to check on her sleeping girl. You were making yourself at home, preparing the couch for the night, thoughts of Benny and other hot dudes, ex-military guys entirely forgotten when you heard, soft and broken :

« I know it’s silly. This whole thing. I just … I wish someone would look at me, you know. » 

`

Jessie was standing in her living room, lost and desperate. You stopped, right then. The bags under her eyes were dark. She wasn’t going to cry, you knew that. The way she spoke, with finality, like she was convinced no one would look at her ever again, made your exhausted body tremble with anger. You closed the space between the two of you and held her for a while. 

Later, as you were plugging your phone, you saw a text from Linda. 

Hey, just checking on you. Everything good, these days ? Saw that French movie you told me about. It’s great ! Seen it yet ? I know you were excited. Don’t be a stranger ;)

You thought back on Jessie’s words. Somebody, at some point, had looked at you. Had seen you for who you were and had embraced every one of your qualities and your flaws. You didn’t miss it. It didn’t hurt anymore. But you remembered how beautiful it had been. Jessie’s marriage was never like that, from what you could tell. If you picked up the phone right now and called Linda, she would be there for you. If Jessie picked up the phone, all she’d get would be a reminder that her ex-husband had changed his number and couldn’t be reached in any way. 

You were lucky, you realized with a sharp sense of guilt. 

You were lucky that you’d had that, with Linda. And you were even luckier that you didn’t need anyone to look at you. You didn’t need anyone to see you for who you were. 

You didn’t. 

You didn’t.

[mando-abs]

Alright, I’ve got more new Pedro Boys song recs. If you wanna put your own thoughts and songs on this post, I wanna see 👀👀👀

Also since it’s Valentine’s coming up, all of these are about love 💕 💕💕💕

First up we got Mr. Jack Whiskey Daniels. Y’all…this song… The cadence, the balance of rock and country. That rockabilly vibes.

Next up, we’ve got two for Frankie Morales. I don’t always know what to think of Frankie, because I feel he has a diverse range of songs he likes. But this one really spoke to me. Like, he’s putting on a little show, getting pumped just thinking about you, but it’s all genuine and sweet in the end. Just like Frankie.

And after that song came on the radio, this was the very next one. And, now I can’t stop associating Frankie with Hall and Oates. He gives off Hall and Oates vibes. Everyone vibes at least a little bit with Hall and Oates. And Frankie is a very likable, chill guy.

And finally I’ve got one for Maxwell Lord. Look. I am not a fan of Max. Y’all are, and honestly, more power to you. So, here’s my peace offering to y’all. I’m only putting this song bc it SCREAMS 80’s and so does Max.

[pascalpanic]

ah ha ha i’ve just had a head canon thought that i need to share. picture this: agent whiskey, javier peña, din djarin, frankie morales, max lord, marcus moreno, and oberyn martell (plus any other pedro boys they are a large group) are all in a boy band. what is their style of music, and what role do each of them play (lead guitar, drummer, lead singer, bass, manager etc etc)? i am very very invested in this

sunny you’re a genius!! I’m gonna put them in two groups: lead singer or instrumentalist! and then there’s Din bc I can’t decide.

Lead Singer:

-Agent Whiskey: this man is either in a country or an oldies cover band, I could see him singing Elvis’ music or something like I mentioned once before maybe?? Whiskey has a really good voice and I think he’d probably do country most likely because hello.... country boy I loooove youuu

music he’d make: Your Man by Josh Turner

-Oberyn Martell: he loves the spotlight too much to NOT be the lead singer, come on now! I think he’d be into alternative music or rock in a modern setting, I love The 1975 so maybe I’m projecting but I could see him being in a band like that! Matty Healy loves to use big words, as does Oberyn, so I really just picture that idk!

music he’d make: The Sound by The 1975

-Marcus Moreno: Marcus is a really sweet and soft kind of guy, and I really see him having a love song, soft, quiet coffee shop music vibe if he was a performer! he’d be so good at it and people would clamor over his voice

music he’d make: Lego House by Ed Sheeran

-Maxwell Lord: Max loves the spotlight would be a lead singer, I don’t really know what he’d sing though! I could see him doing lots of slow jams, romantic music, so I’m not entirely sure what that would put him in! One song in particular does scream Maxwell to me, since it’s very 80s and very longing-

music he’d make: Careless Whisper by George Michael

Instrumentalists:

-Frankie Morales: Frankie plays the drums in a rock band. it’s that simple really. He’s the cute drummer and he gets super into it because he forgets he’s visible since he isn’t in the spotlight. He’d be rocking out back there, and since he flies helicopters the loud noise isn’t a problem to him!

music he’d make: Lonely Boy by The Black Keys

-Javier Peña: Javi is a moody type of guy, with anger, and I could see him absolutely destroying the drums in a rock band, but with a different kind of mysterious air as opposed to soft goofy drum player Frankie

music he’d make: Are You Gonna Be My Girl? by Jet

-Marcus Pike: I know you didn’t ask for him but I wanted to include him since we know he’s a bass player!! He’d be the hot bassist that everyone drools over and he doesn’t even notice. I could see him making music like Wallows or Young The Giant’s sound, kind of an alternative vibe. He additionally plays your typical guitar or electric if his band needs it.

music he’d make: Cough Syrup by Young the Giant

Other:

-Din Djarin: I had a really tough time here, but I think Din would be a guitarist or a bassist as well! He’s not one to be in the spotlight, so he’d like one of the instruments where the attention isn’t necessarily directed. I could also see him singing, but I can’t really decide so I’m putting him here! let me know your thoughts if you have any! Whatever he makes is a very intense kind of music, and has a dark tone to it; I would think that would probably put him in alternative and/or rock. It would be very heartfelt too!

music he’d make: Cradles by Sub Urban