Series summary: Din Djarin has made more than his fair share of enemies as one of the galaxy's more fearsome bounty hunters, and he has always been prepared to deal with them should they resurface and come looking for him. But it isn't him they come after. It's you. To rescue you, he'll have to fight his way through an arena of gladiators. Sacrifices will be made, Blood will be spilled, and old scores will be settled... but will you both make it out alive?
Series warnings: canon-typical violence, fight sport, blood, injury, death, hostage/prisoner situation, see individual chapters for additional warnings.
Part One - 4.2k
Part Two - 6.6k
Part Three - 5.3k
Part Four - 5.3k
Part Five - coming soon!
Part Six - TBA
Part Seven - TBA
Pairing: Din Djarin x reader/The Mandalorian x reader (princess!reader)
Word Count: 1000
Summary: I didn't add much plot here bc I wanted to keep it to the 1k word count but here's some back story: basically Mando got a job to rescue you (a princess) from the Hutts and he accepts it begrudingly and after the successful (of course) rescue he finds you're sassy and lovely and perfect and he's mad about it. He basically wants to keep you locked up (maybe he's a slight bit darkish) and safe until (if) he returns you to your father but you don't make things easy for him and maybe just maybe you want to stay.
Author's Note: This is for @the-blind-assassin-12 A picture is worth 1000 words challenge and the picture below. Thank you bunches for hosting sweets! I didn't take it quite as literal this time- just the idea of a 'game.' Thank you all so much for reading and sharing! Much love always!❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: reader is sassy, Mando is maybe a bit darkish but we love him for it, lots of tension and flirting, it's sexy and definitely spicy
You unlock the door, easing it open while the hinges let out a groan. Your pulse races as you pause. Nothing. Yet.
You race down the corridor of the ship toward where you remember the food storage to be.
After searching as quietly as possible you find the hidden exotic fruits from Coruscant, snatching one and devouring it. You lick each finger clean, so distracted that you forget why you shouldn’t be in here.
Until a soft growl shatters the quiet.
Slowly, you turn and there filling the doorway, broad shoulders spanning the width, arms braced on the frame, is the Mandalorian.
He’s breathing hard, and you can’t help but drink in the sight of him. Even covered in armor from head to toe it does nothing to hide the thickness of his thighs and the wide spread of his hands and long fingers.
His head cocks to the side. “Enjoying the view?”
“Shouldn’t you be asleep.”
That’s all the answer you’ll give him as you reach for another fruit, taking a bite and letting some juice trickle down the corner of your mouth.
He drops his hands, fingers flexing at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to grab you. You take a step back as he moves closer. With his next breath he has you caged against the wall, palms flat on either side of your head.
His hand curves around the back of your neck and he dips his head with a deep inhale. Your breath hitches and you lick your lips, savoring that last taste of fruit that dripped from your mouth.
He hisses out a curse. “You’re playing a dangerous game Princess.”
“And it looks like I’m winning,” you purr as you slip the fruit between your bodies and take another bite.
“Want some?” you ask after your tongue traces your lips again.
You hold up what’s left of the fruit, expression full of taunting as you lean into him.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says, voice gritty with his barely contained restraint. “You’re going to go back to the storage room and go to sleep.”
Silence… and in it only the rasp of your mingled heavy breaths. You wait, studying him and even with his face hidden you can feel the heat radiating off him, see the tension in his shoulders.
“And what are you going to do?” you ask, bringing the fruit to your lips once again.
He tracks the movement before he grabs it from your hand.
“You could have just asked nicely,” you smile. “I’ll share.”
Even though the fruit is in his hand you lean forward and take one last bite, slowly, licking at the juices before they run down his gloved fingers.
“What,” he grits out, “do you think you’re doing?”
“Just playing the game,” you croon.
A low growl escapes him. “Listen to me very carefully.”
His arm snakes around your waist and he drags you into his armored chest, ghosting the back of his knuckles along the curve of your spine. You shiver.
“Keep pushing…” he warns.
You tentatively lift your fingers, curling them under the bottom edge of his helmet. His breath hitches and he goes still.
“And?” you ask, lashes lowering as you deliberately begin to pull upward, your eyes tracking every inch of skin you reveal.
His palm slides to the dip of your waist, fingers splaying wide and tightening in their grip.
“Princess,” he groans, voice dropping lower, rougher.
You pull a little more, exposing the strong column of his neck. His fingers squeeze harder, his other hand still resting above your head, fingertips digging into the metal wall of the ship, nearly bending it under the force.
His grip loosens and his hand drifts lower, toying with the gathered fabric of your nightdress.
Your eyes fall shut at the brush of his fingers over your bare skin, but you continue your gradual reveal of his face, lifting the helmet just high enough to show his lips. He presses even closer, his warmth seeping through and searing your skin.
Just the sight of his mouth makes sparks ignite through your body, his lips parted with every ragged breath he takes as you keep pushing…keep pulling. His nose comes next and you memorize the shape, holding your breath until your eyes lock with his, deep brown and framed by even darker lashes.
His helmet falls with a loud thud to the floor, and your fingers reach for his mussed hair. Cautiously you slide them through, relishing in the way your name leaves his lips in a raspy prayer.
“Take off your gloves,” you say. “I need to feel your skin against mine.”
He sways closer, his eyes dropping to your lips and lingering even as he releases you briefly and tugs the gloves from his hands. His palms once again flatten on either side of your head as if he’s afraid to touch you.
His chest rises and falls faster, hands flexing until they fall to your waist. His touch is gentle for only a second before it’s everywhere; tracing the curve of your back, the softness of your shoulder, the edge of your collarbone.
You’re aching for him, your gazes locked as you lean in, needing to feel the press of his lips against yours. His lips hover just centimeters away, his warm breath fanning your cheek, his calloused fingertips trailing along your delicate neck. His head dips, lips brushing yours in a barely there kiss.
“This little game you’re playing,” he whispers against your lips.…”I’ll win.”
His free hand drops to your waist to pull your hips flush to his. “And when I do, I’m going to have you every way I want.”
You feel him hard and throbbing pressed between your legs and you can’t stop the roll of your hips and the whimper that escapes your lips.
“And by the time I’m done the only name you’ll remember is mine, and all the ways I made you scream it.”
The way this had me gasping!! Reader is pure sass here. She walks on the wild side. She laughs in the face of danger. She steals the Mandalorian’s private stash of exotic fruits. She bets big and calls all the bluffs. I was just waiting and waiting for him to stop or restrain her but…
He didn’t.
Hmmmm. Are you so sure you’ll win, Dinjamin? I’m not. 😏
Thanks for playing again, lovely!! This was a cool use of your photo prompt!!
Over the Andes | Frankie Morales x ofc/f!reader | 3,3 k
Summary: Frankie and reader meet again.
Content warning: None, apart from a lot of swearing. But we all know Frankie and Santi only speak in curse words.
Reader here is more of an ofc, written as a reader insert. She will have some description and a backstory but has no name.
A/N: I'm back! Or at least, my brain is back, after suffering from that horrible heatwave we got in certain parts of Europe. I wanted to update earlier, but really, it was too hot.
And then I just couldn't feel happy with what I wrote. I kept looking at my outline and thinking it was dull. But I managed to finish it! I think I need to let go with the expectation of writing something perfect and just click on the damn button, or else I fear I'll never post it.
So here it is!
Thank you @sawymredfox for your help. And being such a cheerleader. Thank you @petalsinblood for our writing sessions, I wouldn't have been able to finish this damn chapter without them♥️
I'm always happy for comments and/or reblogs, so please don't be shy !
Main masterlist | Series masterlist | Read on AO3
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
"Fancy seeing you here, Morales!"
Frankie turns around to see you right behind him, waiting in line at the bakery. His heart skips a beat. You are wearing simple clothing, and your hair is pretty messy, tied up, with stray curls everywhere, but he thinks you look even better than when you are all polished at work. Not that you aren't beautiful at work. It's just good to see you more laid back. He can sense his whole face illuminating with a large smile, happy to see you, and he doesn't even think to hide it.
"Considering I'm the one who told you about the place, it's not that surprising."
"I came to see if your suggestion was as good as you said. But seeing the line, I think you might be on to something." Your own smile is as wide as his. He likes the way you keep him on his toes, the fact that you seem happy to see him, despite the horrible first impression he gave you, but that you keep reminding him in a way that he is not totally off the hook.
The line moves up a bit, and you ask, "What do you recommend?"
"The Cuban is always perfect. If you're more into chicken, I'd recommend the Fire Bird, but it's pretty spicy."
"I can handle my fire." You say, a glint of challenge in your eyes.
He can't help his own competitiveness, and with a dare in his voice, when there is a call for the next customer, he asks, "You trust me to order?" You barely hesitate, giving him a nod with a grin on your face. He turns back to the woman behind the counter.
"Holà, quiero dos fire birds, una flip guava y un quesito, por favor. Y… un momento.[Hi, I'll have two Fire Birds, a flip guava and a quesito, please. And… one moment]" He turns to you. "What do you want to drink?"
"A coffee is fine." He looks back at the worker and adds, "Un americano y un cortadito. Gracias, [One americano and a cortadito. Thank you]" and before you can say anything, he pays for you both. Looking back at you, he realizes that he might have gotten carried away.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think. I ordered to eat here. But if you'd rather take your order to go, I can change that."
Does he see a shy smile and a faint flush on your face? He hopes so. "No, here is fine."
"OK, let's find a seat." Gesturing toward a table by the window, he lets you sit before taking his own.
Your orders arrive soon. Placing one of the coffee cups in front of you, he tells you, "This is an expresso with sugar and milk. It's pretty strong, but the milk and sugar helps cut back the strength of the coffee. If you like it, it's yours. If you don't, here's your americano." He watches you take a sip, wince a bit, and set the cup back in front of him.
"I'm sorry. I like my coffee black. Sometimes with milk, but never with anything sweet."
"That's fine. I'll drink it," and he takes a gulp, closing his eyes, the taste bringing him back to the first time his abuela made him taste it, back when he was visiting her on summers back in Ponce.
When he opens his eyes, you are looking at him, a smile on your face, and feels the urge to explain.
"I don't know how they make it. I've never been able to recreate it, but it tastes exactly how my grandmother used to make it."
"You never asked them for the recipe?"
"I have thought about it, but I guess I wanna try and recreate it myself."
"A little stubborn, I see." You tease him, and he finds that he is enjoying it thoroughly.
"I have been called worse", he laughs. "OK, let's see how well you handle the Fire Bird, Eat up!"
You take a first bite into the sandwich, munching slowly, before exclaiming, "It's so good!" he watches you continue eating until he sees the first sign of heat when your eyes start to water a bit, and you put your sandwich down and start searching for something to ease the fire.
"Damn, you were right." You cough when he comes back with two glasses of water.
"Are you going to be OK? I can get you something else."
"No! It's hotter than I imagined, but it's good, and I'll eat it. Next time I'll think of getting something other than coffee to drink." You gulp down the water and gesture to him. I don't see you eating, let's see how you bear the heat!"
He takes a big bite, and powers through, even if he is suffering a bit. He does have a good tolerance for spice, but this sandwich is pretty dam hot.
You both eat in quiet fr a bit, a quiet that soon turns to giggles, and then full-on laughter, when you ransack the napkin dispenser to blow your nose and get up twice again to get more water. But every time he offers to get something else, you refuse.
"Who's the most stubborn here?" He asks once you finish the sandwich and drain your 4th glass of water.
"Oh, I know I am, and I know it will be my downfall. But maybe next time I'll stick with the Cuban."
"Still hungry? I got two desserts, but you can take them to go."
No, I'm fine, I'm happy to finish on something sweet and less spicy. Unless they are, in which case I'll let you take them back home."
"Nothing spicy, I swear, " he holds his hand up, in a mock Scouts gesture, "those are little pastries, this one filled with guava paste and that one with a type of cream cheese. They are delicious with coffee. Which one do you want to try?"
He sees you hesitate, and is about to tell you you don't have to if you don't like it, but he surprises you when you back up at him with a twinkle in the eye.
"I want to try both, can we share?"
"Of course!" When you bite half of the guava one, and some jam sticks to the corner of your mouth, it takes him a lot of restraint not to clean it with his finger and let it linger on your lips.
—
"I think I like him." You blurt out unexpectedly, while both you and Di are walking along the trail in the park next to where she lives. It's nice and cool, and you decided to take an evening walk after dinner at her place. The words are unexpected, but the thoughts have been on your mind all evening- heck, since that impromptu lunch at the bakery.
"Huh? Who are you talking about?" Di looks at you, bewildered. She was also lost in her own thoughts, you realize, as you both walked in silence for a while now.
You are ready to brush it off, change the subject, run away, and never tell her. But you also know she would chase you until you spoke, so instead you tell her.Frankie."
"What? Since when?"
"I don't know… I guess I found out he was single last week, and then it's been gradually coming." You feel a little embarrassed at how quickly your feelings just appeared, almost out of nowhere.
"You didn't tell me!" You look at her accusingly; she's the one who's been withholding a relationship, you are just telling her about a crush you just discovered. But you also know why she's saying this. You don't just fall easily, not anymore."
"I didn't really want to," you finally admit, "he's my coworker. It felt weird."
"Why now? What made you change?" What she is saying is, "Why are you telling me?" Because telling her is admitting it to yourself, and most likely wanting to pursue it. And that's new. You mull this for a bit; you hadn't really thought about the why.
"I guess… He's nice. And gentle, and fun, and… I don't know, I just enjoy spending time with him." It's as simple as that.
And you can tell Di is curious, and also a little baffled when she asks, "How much time have you spent with him?" Because you haven't told her everything.
"Apart from drink after work last week, I had lunch with him–"
"WHAT?"Now she sounds pissed you didn't say anything
"It wasn't planned! We bumped into each other at a bakery, and well, we talked and had lunch. And it was fun."
"Well, I'll be damned, Macho Man is actually the one to break the walls."
"Oh shut up! He's not like that, OK? And it's just a crush, I don't know. I don't want to talk about it anymore." You don't know why you are annoyed. It's very new, and you want her to tease you. But you also know she's just trying to lighten the mood.
"What about your guy? You haven't told me much about him. Am I ever going to meet him?"
"Maybe… Maybe you could meet him someday. I.. want to, but I'm also a little scared. And I think he is too."
"Do you know anything about his friends?" You watch her as she hesitates to speak, you spy a bench and gesture for her to sit with you. This seems a little deeper.
"Well, I haven't met any of them yet. He's been a little cagey, but me too, so I can't really be angry about it. As I said, we are both a little scared. I think he didn't see this coming either. I think he's kind of a man slut." She chuckles
"Well, that's a wonderful coincidence." This owes you her elbow in your stomach and exaggerates the hurt playfully as you both laugh.
"I guess we are both happy about what we have. But we haven't really defined anything yet. We have both mentioned we aren't seeing anyone else, and don't want to. And we both started more about our lives outside of work and our friends and family, but it's like baby steps." You watch her she smiles, looking in the distance, lost in her thoughts, and you just know this is more than she lets on. "He knows a little about you," Di adds, turning to you.
"Wow, I feel privileged." And you really do, knowing she speaks of you. When she never tells anyone anything personal, it's a lot.
"And I know he has a brother and friends from the army that he considers as family. They are a tight group, and all live in Tampa. Well, one is traveling a lot, but the rest are here."
"What does he do? You haven't told me."
"Oh! He has a gym! Like a big fancy trendy one in Ybor. He's also a former MMA fighter, yeah I know, don't look at me like that, OK." You look at her with an innocent look, but you both know you thought the same thing, he really is the opposite of the kind of guy she usually sees. " He doesn't fight anymore, but he's also a trainer. And his brother runs a program at the gym for veterans and people who use sports as a therapy, physical and mental. It's kinda great. Benny helps with that part too."
"Benny! Finally a name!"
"Yeah yeah, anyways, let's circle back to your sexy, single dad pilot." She gives your shoulder a shove, and you shove her right back.
"I never said he was sexy." Di gives you a look.
"Fine, he is! Oh my god, he is so broad, but not like overly muscular. And he has a dimple when he smiles. He's so hot." You hide your face in your hand, embarrassed but also giddy.
"Are you telling me you just care about his looks? You are so shallow."
She teases you until you leave her to go back home.
—
Ben and Will were already sitting at the table when Frankie gets there. They are discussing with Gil, who turns to give him a hello as he sits down in front of Benny. Just as he sits, the door opens, and Tom comes inside, sitting next to him.
Gil takes their orders, Frankie notices Tom doesn't get alcohol, going instead for water. He looks a little less tired. Frankie is happy to see this.
"When are you going to ask her out?" Ben whispers-yells as Will shushes him.
"Stop! She can hear you!"
Frankie snorts; sometimes Benny and Will act like teenagers- mostly Benny, but it makes big, serious Will look like a kid caught doing something bad, and it's hard not to laugh out loud. Even Tom is smirking.
"Well? Do something about it, dude!" Benny's whisper is barely lower than the previous one, but Gillian is further away.
"She doesn't want that." Will mumbles
"Dude, are you blind? What is happening with you? She's clearly into you."
"She is, Will," Tom pipes in, and Frankie nods when he catches Will's eyes.
"I don't want her to feel like she has to thank me."
"What do you mean? She doesn't know–" Benny interjects but can't finish his sentence, Will cuts him off.
"Still, I helped her, and she's grateful. I don't want her to feel like she has to say yes if I ask her." He pauses and adds, almost to himself, "I know she's been through stuff."
Frankie feels the need to reassure him, he doesn't like the insecurity he sees in Will's eyes. Will, listen, this is all to your credit, but I can tell you, this has nothing to do with it. I can see the way she looks at you. And only you."
"Yeah, Fish's right. She was already into you before you helped her out. I swear. We've been coming here since before she started working here. She was into you from the first time. She knew your preferences before knowing mine."
"I always order the same thing."Will shakes his head
"Yes, but she remembered after like the third time. I almost always order the same dessert, and she never remembers. And she turned me down."
"She can turn you down and not be into Will", Tom slaps Benny on the head playfully, before adding to Will, "even if yes, she is into you. It's plain as day."
"I know! I'm not that vain! I was just trying to make a point."
"Speaking of which. Don't you have anything to tell us?" Will turns to his younger brother, ready to changer the subject.
"I don't know what you mean." Benny looks at his plate, very interested in his food.
"You have an awful lot of meetings downtown." Will adds.
"I'm just working a lot. You are just jealous that I pull my weight more around work than you do."
"Benjamin Miller, don't you accuse me of that. If I hadn't been there, you would be broke with 3 damaged Ferraris." The tone is playful, but something switches in Benny's eyes, and the fun leaves him completely.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, stupid Benny would have spent all his money, stupid Benny can't think straight because of all the punches he got when he was fighting."
Gillian arrives then with their food, and there is a tense silence as they wait for her to leave. Will looks guilty, Tom and Frankie feel uncomfortable. There is something lingering there, some unspoken resentment that surfaces, and they don't know what to say.
"Benny, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I–"
"No, it's fine. I know. It is true, and thank you for what you did. But I sometimes wish you didn't treat me like that anymore."
"I… I didn't… yes, of course. I won't do that anymore."
"Thanks."
The silence lingers as they eat, and Frankie racks his brain trying to find something to say. But it's Tom who saves the day.
"I can't believe you pulled that off, Benny." Benny looks up, totally bewildered. "You managed to change the conversation so that you didn't have to admit that you are finally in a committed relationship."
Benny blushes furiously, and Frankie and Will start laughing, while he tries to find something to say, only to admit in defeat. "Fine! Yes. But I'm never introducing her to any of you morons."
"If she can tolerate you and your manners, she'll be fine with us."
"Fuck you all." But Benny is grinning from ear to ear, and the rest of the lunch passes in laughter while they eventually manage to get some information from Benny.
—
Frankie's giving his living room a last look, having cleaned it up after putting Mia to sleep. She asked him to read her her new books every night since she got here. He is delighted that they were a hit, even the one about separated parents.
He's ready to go to his own bed and try to read some pages of his current book when his phone rings, an international number showing up on the screen. Grinning, he answers as he steps onto his back porch, making sure he's not going to wake up Mia if he laughs too loud or swears. It can go both ways with Santi. He leaves the sliding door slightly ajar, to be able to hear if he's called in for a nightmare or a glass of water.
"Holà mamabicho. [Hi cocksucker]"
Santi's laugh is so loud he knows he was right to step outside. "¡Hijueputa! [Son of a bitch] How's life? How do you feel about having a roommate for, let's say, a month or two?"
"¡Coño! ¡Eres rico, ve a un hotel! [Fuck! You're rich, go to a hotel!]"
"But what fun would it be? Plus, I want to hang out with my best friend, and my niece when she's home. I need her to love me more than all her other uncles, and I fear she has forgotten me."
"She most certainly has, and I want to keep it that way." Frankie knows Pope can read between the lines, he'll actually be happy to have him in the house.
"Think of it this way. I can babysit! That way you can go out, find a girl and be less mopey and grumpy."
"Bicho [Dick], I'm neither."
"Well, I heard you had a new employee, sorry, 'colleague', a smart and pretty one, right your type."
"How did you–" But he doesn't finish his sentence, knowing he walked right into that trap.
"Ha ha! You are not denying it!" The triumph in his voice makes Frankie want to hang up.
"Fuck you, Pope," He says, defeated, his hand wiping his face.
"Don't worry, Will told me you mentioned someone new at work, and that he noticed a subtle body language that made him suspicious. And I just wanted to test my theory."
"Yeah, well, nothing's happened, and nothing is going to happen. I didn't make a good first impression, and I doubt she's into stupid single dads."
"Damn, Fish, you aren't the best at flirting, but that might be the worst first impression ever," Pope murmurs after hearing all about it.
"Yeah, I know."
"Don't worry, I'll be here to give you dating tips."
"I don't need your tips. Let me remind you of your dating history: the STD, the angry husband, the time you almost got arrested for–"
"OK, OK, you made your point." Pope begrudgingly says. "I should be here in about 3 weeks, would that work for you?"
"Of course, I'll have the bedroom ready for you." There is a lull, and then Frankie adds. "Me da gusto verte, mano. [I'm happy to see you, man]"
"A mí también, parce. Me da mucho gusto volver a casa. [Me too, man. I'm really happy to come back home]"
Spanish translation:
Mamabicho: motherfucker (literally cocksucker), Puerto Rican (source)
Hijueputa: the short version of “hijo de puta": "son of a bitch", Colombian (source)
Coño: Fuck/Damn, Puerto Rican, (source)
Bicho: Dick, Puerto Rican, (source)
The bakery Frankie and reader meet in is inspired after a real bakery in Tampa La Segunda Bakery and Cafe
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YESSSSSSSS!!!!!! Di and Benny foreverrrrrrr!!!!! 🫶🫶
Okay, now that I got that out of my system…
Another great chapter. I love the dynamic between all the guys, but I’m so looking forward to seeing more of Frankie and Santi once he comes to stay. I did feel really bad for Benny during their lunch but good for him for sticking up for himself! Even when they mess up, it’s so clear these guys care about each other so much.
This story is so much fun and I just can’t wait (I will wait patiently) to see how it all unfolds! (Frankie, Reader, Benny, Di double date on the horizon mayhaps??)
I am literally speechless over this. This is exactly correct. Ezra definitely goes shirtless, especially in the summer, and he absolutely lets Cee get whatever she wants all of the time. That little bird saved his life, the least he can do is keep her well supplied in tacos and sushi and fried rice and pizza.
Over the Andes | Frankie Morales x ofc/f!reader | 3,5 k
Summary: Frankie has some apologizing to do. So does Tom.
Content warning: Mention of alcoholism and of drug usage, not much more in this one. Reader here is more of an ofc, written as a reader insert. She will have some description and a backstory but has no name.
A/N: I'm back after a vacation break, let's settle in the story. Thank you @sawymredfox and @vodkaandpizza for listening to me yap about this chapter, and to @iknowisoundcrazy for your help finding children's books.
I'm always happy for comments and/or reblogs, so please don't be shy !
Main masterlist | Series masterlist | Read on AO3
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
When Frankie wakes up, the sparse light filtering through the curtains tells him it's early. Earlier than he expected to wake up. It's always when he can actually sleep in that he wakes up early, and when he needs to set an alarm, that he could've slept for hours.
With a sigh, he decides he can use the extra time his internal clock gives him to take care of his truck. It needs some maintenance, and it always helps to clear his head. The past day has been on his mind a lot, and he needs to refocus on the now.
He opens his garage door to let some fresh morning air in, and he puts some music on his old stereo. Hands in the engine, he feels his mind drift, the many thoughts tormenting him finally dimming, the jumble ordering itself neatly, and letting him concentrate on what's in front of him, sometimes humming to the music . After an hour or so, he stands up, stretching his back and assessing his repairs while wiping his hand on a dirty rag, with satisfied hum escaping his throat.
He could change his car, he could buy a new stereo, heck, he could change his whole wardrobe every season and his bank account would still be fine. He made good investments and sensible choices. Maybe not right away, there were a few month where they all went a little crazy. Spending their newly acquired money on foolish things: a Ferrari, or a luxurious house, or traveling around the world, or… drugs.
But they all got better. Well, almost all of them. And honestly, Frankie just doesn't understand the need to buy new stuff when the old one still works fine.
He's not stingy, at least not when it comes to the people he loves. He helped Elena buy a place for herself and Mia. She didn't want to at first, didn't want his money, didn't want to feel indebted to him. She's a proud woman, ambitious and smart, and that's what drew him to her. But that also means she has a hard time accepting help. Not that she needs him, heck, she's perfectly capable of taking care of herself and Mia without his help. But he wanted the best for them, a place close to her work, not too far from him, near good schools. He wanted his daughter, and by extension his ex-wife, to have the best environment possible. And that is something Elena understood.
After investing in Delta Heli Tours, he got himself his own house, a few minutes away from the airfield. It's the smallest one in his fancy neighborhood. Not by necessity, but only because it was already bigger than anything he ever lived in. A 3-bedroom with a nice front porch, a small backyard right on the water, and a small dock, and attached to it, the small sailboat he splurged on.
Yes, he did get himself something he didn't need. Something silly that made him no better than any other rich guy, he couldn't help but scorn. But he always wanted to learn how to sail. And he could envision himself and Mia when she was a little older. He loved flying, he would always love it. But he also wanted to have control over the water. he had land, air, and now water.
His therapist had encouraged him. He needed the distraction, he needed to be busy. When he came back from Colombia, idleness almost killed him. He survived, but it destroyed what was left of his marriage.
Frankie's head wisps when he hears a knock on the wall of the garage. Tom is standing there, leaning on the door frame, his sunglasses hanging by the collar of his t-shirt. Frankie watches him for a second, judging Tom's countenance. He looks contrite, he comes to negotiate a truce.
"Hey," Frankie stays put, doesn't move apart from the nod emphasizing the greeting, "Do you want coffee?" Tom hums in agreement, "Go sit in the backyard, I'll bring it in a sec." Tom turns to walk around the house, while Frankie goes back inside. There is no need to say more, no need to ask how Tom takes his coffee, a little bit of milk and no sugar, no need to ask what brings him here. They are more than brothers after all. And words have never been their forte.
A few minutes later, Frankie arrives at his backyard, with a small tray, carrying two coffee mugs, and a plate full of misshaped Mantecaditos. Frankie's been experimenting with an old family recipe; he wants to make some for Mia, even try to bake with her. He's trying to get the exact same taste from the ones his abuela Nina [grandma Nina] used to make, and he feels like he's almost there.
He sits next to Tom on the mismatched garden chairs that are sitting facing the water, at the end of his small garden the Hillsborough Bay stretching ahead.
Both sip their coffee in silence, munching on the cookies. Silence is also a way of communicating, a way of acknowledging the tension, it letting it ease down, of getting comfortable. And also accepting each other.
Finally, Tom breaks the silence. "I'm sorry for the shitty things I said. I let my anger speak. It's no excuse. But for what it's worth, I admire what you have. Your business, what you built with Elena and Mia." He sighs. Frankie knows there is something more to come, so he doesn't speak, "I might be a little jealous of it."
That gets Frankie's attention, he didn't expect as much coming from him. Tom is still staring at the sea before turning his head to look at Frankie, his eyes red from lack of sleep and also unshed tears.
"Molly agreed to have coffee with me on Saturday." There is a shy hope in Tom's voice.
"That's great, Tom, I'm happy for you."
"Thanks." They let another moment pass.
"I'm trying to…" Tom stops, he is struggling to say the words. "I'm trying to quit drinking. I'm… At least trying to drink less."
"I'm proud of you, man. Accepting you have an addiction is the hardest step."
"Yeah." Tom's sigh doesn't sound very convinced. But it does give Frankie some hope. Maybe things will get better, maybe they will all get back to the way they were. Wishful thinking. But Frankie does allow the hope to settle a bit in his mind and heart.
"Do you want my sponsor's number? He could give the names of people to contact, maybe some meetings you can–"
"Nah." Tom sniffs, drains his cup, and stands up, "I think I'm good on my own. But thanks for the offer. I have to go. Have a good day, 'fish." And with that, he crushes the small hope Frankie had let his heart open to.
—
You don't see Frankie for the next two days, his schedule indicating his next flight is on Wednesday early morning. Part of you is glad, you don't like confrontation, and you're slightly nervous after your interaction with him. It's not that you think you are wrong, you're just weary and wish you could get over it fast. And see if what Colin and your colleagues, after hearing about what happened, say about Frankie is true, that he really is a good guy.
When you recount the event to Di, she cheers you for your reaction, and then uses words to describe her feelings toward Frankie that could make a truck driver blush. At least she makes you laugh while you settle on your couch, phone in hand. It's good to know you have her nearby, that you can see her whenever you want. It doesn't feel as hard to be in a new place where you have to make your whole life yours again. It actually makes you feel good, exhilarated.
On Tuesday after work, you make your way to a bookstore, intent on buying a few books, a treat to yourself after your second day, and also because the books waiting for you on your night stand aren't appealing anymore.
As you make your way into the store, you are immediately drawn in by the coziness. It's a small place, cramped, with books all the way up to the ceiling. It makes you want to sit in one of the comfortable-looking chairs with a book and a hot beverage. The staff is friendly, even if they don't have the book you were looking for. Instead, you go, browsing around the place, letting the covers bring you in, attract you, and walk around the different sections. Around a corner, you stumble on someone you recognize.
Granted, you didn't get to look much at him while you were trying to kill him with your words and eyes, but you could recognize the silhouette and hat anywhere, even if his face is turned down, looking at several books on display in the children's section.
Your first move is to back away, turn around, and leave the store, but then, you decide you are in your right. If anyone needs to be ashamed, it's him. And if he is such a good guy, as everyone keeps telling you, then maybe this is the opportunity to find out. So instead, you walk up to him and say. "So that's what you do on your free time, when you are not flying tourists over the bay, or belittling meteorologists?"
Frankie's head jerks up, and you see an array of emotions on his face when he looks at you: bewilderment, recognition, and instant shame. It does make you feel a little guilty, but you stand your ground, a smirk on your face.
He immediately straightens up, taking off his hat, like a kid caught doing something naughty. He murmurs your name before clearing his throat, "I…, I'm happy to see you!" When you give him a quizzical look, he runs a hand through his hair. "I mean… I've been wanting to talk to you. To tell you… To apologize. I was such a jerk. What I said…" He closes his eyes, takes another deep breath. "There are no excuses for what I said, but I really do hope you will accept my apology and that maybe we can start over."
You stay silent, trying to gauge his sincerity. But he mistakes your silence for something else.
"It's OK if you don't, I deserve it. But I hope we can at least work in good harmony."
He does look very sincere. You decide to relent.
"Seems fair," you finally say. You see him relax, his whole demeanor softening. "But you won't get another chance." You add sternly.
"I barely deserve this one, but I'll take it." He smiles and you spot a dimple on his right cheek.
Your eye fall on the array of books laid in front of him, you catch the cover of one called "Stuck in the Middle", depicting a little girl standing between mountains, looking torn apart . Another one with a big family and the title "The Invisible String". Frankie's hand brushes a third book, that has a drawing of a female pilot.
"A story on Amelia Earhart?"
"Yeah, my daughter wants to be a pilot." He says, looking proud and bashful at the same time, "and this book caught my eye, I want her to have examples of female pilots. Might take her to work one day, to meet Alysha." You can't help but smile seeing how proud he seems to be when he talks about his daughter.
"How old is she?"
"She's 3, and already very opinionated about the stories I read to her."
"What's her name?"
"Mia." There is a short lull, then Frankie points to the books you are holding. "What are you getting?"
You look at your books in your hand and show him. "I was going to pick up another book, but they don't have it anymore."
He lets out a small laugh when he sees what you picked. Before you can question him, he tells you, "I'm sorry, I promise I'm not laughing at you. But a romance and a horror novel? I just didn't expect both paired together."
You join him in the laughter, "I actually like to read a romance right after a horror story, it's a palate cleanser to a sweeter world."
"That's actually a great idea. I read this one," he points to the horror, "It's good. What book were you planning on getting?"
"Our Share of Night, by–"
"Oh, I read it! It's great, you are going to love it."
"Yeah? Everyone says it's great, I can't wait to read it."
There is a silence, both of you looking at each other. The kind of silence of people who don't really know each other yet, who don't know what to say next. It's a little uncomfortable, but it's not too bad.
"Well, I should get going." You say, pointing behind you to the cashier.
"I'll let you go. I'm going to see if I can find other books for Mia. Have a good evening."
"You too!"
—
The next day, when you arrive at work, you find on your desk a pristine copy of Our Shared Night, with a scribbled note on top, from one of your colorful post-it decks.
"I already had the copy when a friend gave me this for my birthday. I remembered it when I came back home. It's yours, just tell me once you've read it, if you enjoyed it."
You smile and tuck the note inside the book before putting it in your bag. This small act of kindness warms you. He really isn't that bad after all. You are ready to give him another chance.
—
"How are you settling at work?" Di asks while she digs into your sushi plate.
"Good. Still doing good." You use your chopsticks to fend her off. She pouts, so you relent.
"What about the asshole pilot?"
"Frankie? He's actually not that bad." You answer mindlessly, picking a dumpling from the shared plate.
"Is he secretly a sweetheart under all the misogyny and grumpiness?"
Her tone makes you laugh. "I don't know, I just bumped into him at a bookstore last night, and he apologized. He was actually pretty good about it. And he gave me a book."
"Oo-ooh, so now you have a crush?" She looks at you expectantly.
"What?" You look at her, horrified, "No! He's married, or is with someone, I don't know. He has a daughter. I just think he's decent. Plus, free book."
"OK. If you say so." She looks a little crestfallen. Which is suspicious. She's not the romance type.
"You are acting weird. What's up with you?"
"I'm not weird." She frowns, but doesn't look at you. It feels fishy.
"Yes, you are! You are hiding something."
"I'm not!"
"You are!" You sound like siblings fighting, but that's what always happens between you both; you've known each other for so long.
"Fine! I'm seeing someone!" Di finally relents, sitting back on her chair and crossing her arms.
"WHAT? Since when? What happened to the 'I'm never again dating a guy, they are all dead to me?' Oh! Is it a girl?" Your voice rises, and you try to contain it when she motions for you to speak lower.
"No, unfortunately, it is a guy."
"Is that why you suddenly want me to have romance in my life?"
"Maybe, I just felt it would be nice if you had an crush. It's been nice seeing someone and I wanted you to have the same."
"Who are you, and what did you do to my friend?" You ask her, fake shocked.
"He makes me laugh, OK? He's sweet and really nice, and fun." You sense her defensiveness, so you stop mocking her.
"How long have you been seeing him?"
"A little over 2 months." She relents after stalling for a bit.
"Why didn't you say anything?" You can't help but show your surprise.
"I don't know. I guess I was a little embarrassed?"
"But why?" You are puzzled. Di is never embarrassed; she's the kind of person who never apologizes for who she is.
"It's stupid, and I feel ashamed. He was a one-night stand. I met him at a bar. But then it just… I don't know, I saw him again. And... He's just a guy, guy, you know? A dude bro kind, who's into sports, fishing, and stuff like that. And with all my big discourse, I just felt like a traitor for falling for the exact type of guy that I usually hate."
"Falling?" You quirk your eyebrows.
"Shut up! I don't know."
"Babe, listen." You lean in and put your hand on her arm. "Does he treat you right?"
"Yes." You notice the smile spreading on her face.
"Is he respectful? He isn't angry that you are married to your job?"
"No, not at all! He's really great. He's impressed, and loves that I talk about what I do, he reads my stuff, and asks questions, and gives me compliments. And he's interested in so many things, and… I really, really like him." She sighs with a dreamy look on her face, and you can't help your own goofy smile, happy to see her like this.
"Also, he's crazy hot and has an amazing body, and the sex is unbelievable."
"Girl, I'm jealous!" You both laugh before you sober up a bit, to tell her one last thing, hoping to put at ease whatever might keep her from fully embracing it. "I'm happy for you, however long this lasts. Also, I can understand your reservation, but we aren't in high school anymore. You can date the jock, it doesn't make you shallow. As long as you are happy and he treats you right, that's all that matters. Fuck anyone who tells you otherwise"
"You are the best. You really are. You deserve a nice guy to treat you well, someone who sees that."
"Yeah, well, right now I'm happy. I feel like I'm getting my life back together. I enjoy living alone, getting to know myself again. So it's fine if I don't find anyone."
—
It's Friday evening, and when Frankie just gets back from his sunset tour, he's ready to call it a day and get back to his house. He wants to catch up on the latest series he's watching, maybe make himself a nice dinner, or treat himself to a pizza.
But as he's walking past the offices, Alysha calls him out, "Frankie! We were waiting for you. We are going to grab a drink and introduce the new girl to Joe's. Do you want to join?"
And before Frankie can think of an excuse to say no, his eyes fall on you, and you give him a small smile.
"Yeah sure!" He really is a sucker for pretty eyes and nice smiles. The same kind that makes him go into bookstores late on a Tuesday night to buy a book he already owns.
—
Joe's is a beach shack. Four walls, doors and windows open, fans on the ceiling, set at full speed, not giving a real breeze in the Floridan heat of this mid-September evening. The place sits right next to the airport and is mostly filled by people you start to recognize, seeing them everyday on the airfield. Everyone seems to know Joe, the owner, a guy with no age, tanned and wrinkled skin from the sun and the sea, long gray hair, and unkempt beard. He looks like he was built in with the place and probably has been here since the it opened. He stands behind the bar, bottles lined up in front of a dirty mirror, a few deserted tables inside, and more on the porch surrounding the small building. One-dollar bills are stuck everywhere: on the wall, the pillars, the ceiling, flying around, and you can also make out postcards from around the world. You look around while they all greet Joe and follow them to a table on the deck, overlooking the water. Everything is old and decrepit, but it has such a warm vibe that you feel at home immediately.
Frankie sits next to you, putting down your drink in front of you. You can sense the warmth irradiating from him and can't help being a little self-conscious as you listen to everyone speak. Alysha and Jean are talking about something, but you have a hard time concentrating, you can't help but observe everyone. Jean is trying to draw Fred into the conversation, Alysha is laughing loudly, brushing her braids back her shoulder, Frankie is assessing everyone and staying quiet, sipping his beer, which you notice is a non alcoholic one.
After a moment, on the second round of drinks, Alysha's, they brushed off your offer with a "Newbies don't pay the first time", the conversation settled on the past week and on you. Most of it is done by Jean and Alysha, with a few interjections by Fred, finally opening up, happy to be included with the adults. Frankie is still on the quiet side. He surveys the conversation but does not look bored. He joins in with laugh and jokes a bit. You ease up, and at one point, when Fred and Alysha are discussing a specific technical problem on a helicopter, while Jean is busy at the bar talking to Jo, you turn to Frankie and find his eyes already on you. You try not to get flustered by his gaze and ask, "How did Mia enjoy the books?"
"She hasn't seen them yet." He takes a sip from his drink and adds, "She won't be back until Monday." He must see a bit of perplexity on your face, because he adds, "She is with her mom, we're divorced and have joint custody. So she won't see the books until then."
Suddenly, the books you saw him with make more sense, he was getting his little girl stories to understand parent separation. This information, coupled with the knowledge that he is in fact single, makes your heart flutter. Without even realizing it, your body turns toward him, allowing you to engage more fully in conversation, as you talk about his daughter, work, places to eat.
Time flies by, and it's only when everyone gets up to take their leave that you realize you and Frankie have been talking for an hour, oblivious of everyone else.
Mantecaditos: crispy butter cookies, you can find different versions (with different names) depending on the country, here is a recipe
The books Frankie bought for Mia:
Stuck in the Middle, by Tom Tinn-Disbury
Amelia Eheart, by Maria Isabel Sanchez Vegara
The Family String, by Joanne Lew-Vriethoff
taglist - Please let me know if you want to be removed it's not a problem, or if you want to be added: @iknowisoundcrazyreads @lillaydee @littlemisspascal @harriedandharassed @sunnytuliptime @picketniffler @sawymredfox @baronessvonglitter @milla-frenchy @half-moon16 @sin-djarin @hanahleah @missadangel @simpingforjoel @aurorawritestoescape @kirsteng42 @annwrites24 @vodkaandpizza @quinnnfabrgay @littlepedrito @petalsinblood @savedyounine @isabellaboo2025 @copperhalfcent @the-blind-assassin-12 @madpanda75 @anoverwhelmingdin @inept-the-magnificent @the-blind-assassin-12
Finally catching up with this story and this entire chapter just made me smile so frickin much!! Frankie elbows deep in a truck engine? Yes, please. Frankie learning to make his abuela’s recipe to share with his daughter? Yes, please. A bookstore run in?? An apology?? A book he had laying around went out and BOUGHT just because it was a shared interest and he has a lil crush? YES! PLEASE! Gosh, every scene here was great. I loved getting a glimpse of Reader’s life through her friendship with Di. (Low-key hoping Di’s new guy is a Miller brother 🤞) Also, Joe’s sounds like a fun time and the perfect place for these two to get to know one another a little better. Can’t wait to see what happens next!!
The ratio of things that make me want to scream and lose my shit and bite heads off vs. the amount of restraint I show on a daily basis should be studied. And, frankly, rewarded.
Hi Alyssa! Hope you're having a good day! I just finished my first story for the a picture is worth 1000 words challenge and was hoping for another, please and thank you! ❤️🥰❤️
Hello there lovely! My day has been alright so far, it’s finally cooled back down to livable temperature where I live so that helps a ton! Hope you’re having a great day, too!
You’re officially the first person to ask for a second photo for this event and I’m so happy you came back for more! Here’s your next prompt, looking forward to how you use it!!
Author's Note: This is for @the-blind-assassin-12 A picture is worth 1000 words Challenge and the picture I got is posted below. Thank you for hosting sweets! This was so fun! I can't wait to do another! Thank you alll so much for reading and sharing! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: soft and sweet fluff, reader is pregnant and Djarin is doting and really slightly obsessed...which we love, Grogu is super cute as always!
PS I don't know what it is about this photo but I find it so sexy...
“Where the heck…?”
Grogu cocks his head to the side, his dark eyes blinking as he watches you search for the small stool.
“I could have sworn it was here…”
You push aside a bag of weapons. “Ah ha!”
Grogu’s small squeak of surprise makes you laugh.
“If we make too much noise,” you whisper to Grogu. “We’ll get in trouble. We have to be quiet.”
Grogu’s ears fall back and he presses his lips together. “Don’t worry. It’ll be worth it. They’re finally ripe!”
You carefully free the stool of it’s hiding spot and tip toe toward the cabin door, peeking around the edge. “It looks like he might be asleep…”
Grogu stands between your legs, doing the same. You secure the stool against the side of your body, trying to hide it as much as possible before you walk out.
“Come on buddy, let’s go pick some oranges!”
He waddles out the door after you, both of you passing quietly by Djarin who’s seated comfortably against the side of the cabin, seemingly resting.
You don’t notice his helmet turn as his gaze follows or hear his exasperated sigh before he asks, “what are they up to now?”
You can smell the oranges before the tree comes into view and when you round the cabin to the back it sits nestled between some rocks, growing tall against the backdrop of the mountains beyond.
Once you find a flat spot on the ground you set the stool down, turning to Grogu with a smile.
“I can’t wait for you to try one!”
He coos and holds out his open hands. “Ok, let me just get up here….”
You’re just finding your balance on the stool when you feel a pair of strong, warm hands at your waist.
“If you’re trying to give me a heart attack, it just might work.”
His words are soft against the shell of your ear as he presses your back to his chest.
“I just wanted some oranges,” you pout, turning to face him and resting your hands on his wide shoulders.
“What did I tell you about climbing on things,” he replies, helping you off the stool. “And lifting…”
You place a palm on his armored chest. “I know, I know…lifting heavy things and carrying too much and not eating or drinking enough and making sure I rest…”
“I love you,” he whispers, his hand gently sliding along your hip to the soft curve of your stomach. “All three of you.”
He looks Grogu’s way, chuckling as he watches him study the oranges on the tree then focuses on you again, his hand caressing the gentle bump you’re growing.
The sweet moment is disrupted when you hear Grogu straining, his hand outstretched toward the top of the tree. With a disgruntled sound he falls back just before a bunch of oranges fall loose of the tree and onto the ground.
“He’s making me look bad,” Djarin grumbles.
You raise an eyebrow. “How?”
“I could have done that!” he says, hands resting on his hips.
“Not like that!” you tease.
Even though you can’t see his face you know he’s giving you a challenging glare.
“But I can do it like this,” he says and pulls out his blaster, masterfully aiming and shooting down three oranges in succession. Each one falls to the ground, not a spot singed and even a leaf or two intact.
Grogu’s ears fall and he looks at you with big eyes.
“Aww, you did great kid!” you say, patting his head softly. “Thanks!”
You start to reach for an orange but Djarin swoops in and grabs some before you can and you give him a pointed look. “I can bend down!”
“But you don’t have to,” he says in answer, ushering you back toward the cabin with his free hand splayed at your lower back.
Grogu follows behind already digging into an orange.
Once you’re seated comfortably just outside the cabin, cushioned by the blanket Djarin insisted you use, you show Grogu how to properly peel the orange.
“See,” you say, digging your thumb into the soft skin. “Just get it started like this then you can pull the off the rest.”
Grogu’s ears move up and down like antennae as he watches you, then he takes his own orange and sticks one of his fingers in. Some juice squirts out into his face, and he squeals before falling backward.
“Good start,” you giggle.
He tries again and stabs holes in the orange more than peels it before giving up and just biting into it, skin, and all.
“That works too” you smile.
Djarin comes back outside to join you, cup in hand.
“Freshly squeezed,” he says as he hands it to you.
Your eyes light up and you take a sip. “Delicious! How did you manage it?”
“Don’t ask,” he says and you hear the smile in his voice.
He sits down next to you then pulls the helmet from his head. You immediately run your fingers through his hair, tousling the already mussed curls. You pop an orange slice into your mouth, moaning around the juicy and sweet taste.
Feeling the weight of his gaze you turn your face his way, holding up a wedge of orange. His lips part and you feed him the piece, leaning closer when you notice some juice escape. You kiss the corner of his mouth.
“Thank you.”
It’s a whisper against his lips and he kisses you, tasting of sweet orange.
“For?” he murmurs as his fingers trace the column of your neck before splaying along your cheek, thumb delicately brushing your bottom lip.
“Searching the galaxy for an orange tree,…” you murmur, kissing him again. “And bringing it here.” Another kiss. “And planting it and making sure it grew.”
His eyes close, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as his smile meets your kisses.
“I told you,” he says softly. “I would give you the world. You simply have to ask.”
ADORABLE! DIN DJARIN MAKING FRUIT FLAVORED DREAMS COME TRUE FOR HIS ONE TRUE LOVE IS ADORABLE!! SOUND THE ALARM!
The (over) protective streak is on full display here, and I love that Grogu is on team sneak-out-to-defy-his-rules with Reader. That little green bean is always down for rule breaking, especially when snacks are involved. I also love the initiative he took to bring down a whole bunch of oranges. What a cutie!!
My favorite bit, hands down, was imagining him stabbing his orange with his lil claws and making his own method for eating them. Din’s big warm hands on Reader’s waist, too. Talk about two very different kinds of smiles I had on reading this. 😁 -> 😏
Thank you so much for joining in on this event and for writing such a sweet little treat!
Thank you to everyone who has participated in this challenge so far, whether you’ve finished your submission or you’re still working on it! I hope you’re having fun either way! I’ll be adding them all here as they roll in (but no pressure, the timeline is infinite!) so make sure to tag me so I can read and add your fic!
Din Djarin
Within Reach by @din-cognito
Ficlet #1 by @chiyo13
Joel Miller
The Tomato Queen of the Apocalypse Meets the Most Handsome Scowl on Earth by @the-blind-assassin-12
Flustered by @newpathwrites
Sight of Love by @sawymredfox
Javi G.
Find A Man Who Can Do Both by @grogusmum
Frankie Morales
Obsessed by @aurorawritestoescape (feat. Joel Miller)
How it works: A pick a favorite passage from your work for each category below. It can be a line or a few paragraphs.
Thanks for the tag @vodkaandpizza @bergamote-catsandbooks & @sawymredfox !!
Most Romantic Writing: from Point of No Return, Part One (Ezra x OFC Clara)
If she took a deep breath and tuned out all but the sound of the tea brewing, she could call back a memory that was almost strong enough to feel- His arms winding around her from behind, lips brushing first along her shoulder whether she was wearing a shirt with sleeves or not, then landing close to her ear as he pressed his body to hers. His scent, like the forest and the fields, the stream and clean sweat mixing with the herbal smell of the tea and completely intoxicating her as she leaned back into his broad chest. “You know, you make it exceedingly difficult for me sometimes, Huckleberry”. The tip of his nose tracing the edge of her ear before his patchy beard raked along the skin behind it as she, breathless, struggled to ask him what it was she made so difficult. “Determining whether I am awake-“ A kiss to her temple, his arms tightening around her. “-Or still only dreaming of having you in my embrace.”
Angstiest Writing: from It Pours From Your Eyes (Joel x Tess)
“Shut the fuck up, because I don’t have time.”
It was a cruel thing to say. But what could she have said that wasn’t? I love you? I always have, right from the start? How was that any less cruel? To let the only time he would hear it be that one - with death so hot on their heels they could feel its breath on their necks? No. If she hadn’t let him hear it back in their dingy kitchen, if she hadn’t said it to him while he took her apart in their bed, if she never mumbled it as she collapsed onto the mattress beside him or pressed it with a kiss against his bearded cheek before he left for a work shift, she sure as fuck wasn’t about to make him suffer through hearing it now.
Most Humorous Writing: from The Yule Lodge, Part Two (Dieter Bravo x f!Reader)
“Am I dead?”
The other-worldly intruder let out a small chuckle. “No, Dieter.” She shook her head, taking a step towards him. “I promise you, you’re very much alive.”
How fucking strong were those cookies? Lars said they were the same ones he got last time but - He eyed the fire lady in his bedroom. But this is… definitely different.
“Okay, so…” He shook his head, dropping the blankets to run his fingers through his hair, grabbing it in fistfuls. “So I’m dreaming, then.” He nodded, still holding his hair, and stared right at her. “I’m dreaming.” He let his hands fall to his lap and gave a loose shrug. “It’s a lucid dream. I’m still asleep.”
Granted, his lucid dreams were usually sexier in nature, but it was the only explanation that made any sense. Looking the woman up and down again from that angle, he shrugged to himself. Yeah, I mean… Why not?
To his horror, she furrowed her brow and put her hands on her hips. “No, you’re not dreaming.” She clicked her tongue. “And even if you were, it wouldn’t be that kind of dream.”
How the fuck- “How the fuck did you know what I was thinking?” Also, why not? Squeezing his eyes shut and telling his horny-side to shut the fuck up, he willed himself not to think about fucking the glowing angel/ghost/being, and tried instead to focus on getting actual answers.
Sexiest Writing: from Sheer Desire (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)
But before you could reach for him to coax him up towards you, he used the shoulder that was still under your leg to scoot you higher up on the bed. “M’not done with you yet.” One eyebrow pitched into an arch as he shook his head. “Not even close.” Shrugging your thigh down into the crook of his arm, he turned his face to press his lips - still partially coated in you - to your skin. “Gotta take these off, remember?” Moving his head and angling his chin, he opened his mouth and bit the lacey edge of your stockings. “S’why you put them on, right?”
It sure fucking is. Frankie. All you could do was nod.
Keeping the lace between his teeth, Frankie began to move slowly towards your ankle, peeling the fabric down over your knee. He paused there, lips grazing your skin, the bottom one obscured by the nylon that was stretched over it making the upper one feel warmer and softer. Oh, fuck. You let out a hum that you knew he heard, his eyes lifting from what he was doing to find yours as his hands continued to roam - one over your thigh, the other dragging down over your abdomen.
“You like that?” His voice was a low, gritty rasp, the heat from his breath getting trapped between the sheer fabric and your skin, spreading down your shin.
“Yeah,” you panted. “Feels good, Frankie.”
That was an understatement. It felt like a goddamned blessing to know that this man wanted nothing more than to be undressing you with his teeth. That the only place he wanted to be in that moment - and he could be anywhere in the entire world - was right between your legs, tangled up in your limbs. It made you feel invincible and indestructible to know that he’d chosen you, that you had given your whole self to him and he’d accepted every piece of you, that he’d placed those pieces in his heart. It felt like pure passion and trust to love and be loved by Frankie Morales, especially when this was how he chose to show you.
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