G.O.M.E.R.

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

can you blame him? 

pairing || Frankie Morales x Reader

word count || 828

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely,”

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

{Taglist}

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

So, India is dying.

Look, I know a good number of you are from the US and things aren't amazing there either, but my country is literally on the brink of collapse. So I'd love it if we could talk about that for a minute.

If you can't do anything else, please just read and reblog.

A second COVID wave has taken out the healthcare system. There are no more hospital beds. There's an oxygen shortage. There's a critical vaccine shortage. The Central Government has thrown its hands up and is passing the baton to the State Governments to do what they can.

There are over 16 million covid cases. A record 330,000 new cases reported yesterday - comparable to the US at its peak. 187,000 dead as of today.

There is no plan.

Mass cremations are taking place. The cremation grounds are running day and night and they are short on wood. People are watching their loved ones die while waiting for a hospital bed, and then they're unable to give them the proper burial rights.

Hospitals are overwhelmed. Patients are being confined, two to a bed. They're the lucky ones.

We are on the verge of people dying in the streets.

This is the second-most populous country in the world. The largest democracy. A country that encapsulates over 15,000 years of recorded human history and has endured everything from famine to invasion to colonisation.

We might be at the end. This might be the thing that does us in.

People are dying.

People are dying.

People are dying and there is no plan.

More good news? Variants are popping up. A double mutation strain has shown up. It is resistant to current vaccines. This will not go away. This is the devastation they warned of when the anti-maskers were out protesting the minor inconvenience of covering their face in public.

My country is on the verge of an emergency state. Our government has failed us. This is as dire a situation as it ever could be.

Look. I don't do much with my life. I write fics, some of you have read them and that's pretty much it. I spend my days with my head in the clouds because that's where I like to be.

But two days ago, my grandmother tested positive, had to be taken to hospital and the ambulance caught fire.

She barely made it to the urgent care she needs.

So, here I am, using whatever meager platform I have to cobble this request together. Because I have to do something.

If you can, donate.

Or spread the word.

Help. Please.

Rudeness and Racism in the Fandom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hide and Seek: A Mandalorian Fanfiction - Chapter 1

“W-what are you going to do with me?” you asked, forcing your voice to remain steady, “I’m assuming that you’re not turning me in?” “No,” said the Mandalorian, “I’m not. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. But I know that you’re not dangerous. There’s been a mistake…“

You are the Mandalorian’s first quarry after the events with Moff Gideon in Nevarro. He cannot bring himself to turn you in, and instead proposes marriage for your protection.

Rating: T Word count: 4,288 words Chapter warnings: Discussion of death (including death in childbirth), a kidnapping attempt.

Tagging (requested and those I think will enjoy): @dindjarindiaries​  @goldafterglow​​ @marvel-and-mischief​​ ​​ @hopelikethesun​​​ @yespolkadotkitty​​ @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ @absurdthirst​​​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @forever-rogue​ @thewaythisis​ @f0rever15elf​​ @aerynwrites​ @tiffdawg​ @lose-eels​ @hdlynnslibrary​ @fleetwoodmactshirts​ @opheliaelysia​ @din-damn-djarin​ @ezrasarm​ @fioccodineveautunnale @pajamasecrets​ @wille-zarr​ @poenariuniverse @auty-ren​ @mandohatesdroids​ @profkenobi​

Please let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my future writing!

I couldn't resist Mr. Darcy vibes❤️

A Work of Art

Pairing: The Mandalorian/ Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: @mandowhorian posted a prompt that came across my dash and goddamn it, I had to write it.  Why does my brain do this to me when I got another fic to finish?  

Also @amarvelousmandalorian wrote a ditty that gave me the jump I needed.  Won’t ever be as good as some people’s but whatever, I had to get it out on paper, so to speak.

Reminder:  I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  

—***—

When she heard footsteps coming up the walkway, she rose from her chair to open the door.  She had just finished setting the table up for a meal, wondering if the man coming to her was going to enjoy her baked goods.  At least the house smelled of warm sugar rather than the bitterness of oil paint that usually permeated the space.

“Mandalorian!”  She called, waving at him with a large smile on her face.  She made a small note that his arms were empty of the little green being he had taken under his wing.  “I didn’t think you’d reach me by sundown, the rains have made the forest roads a little treacherous.  Come in, the tea is almost ready!”

He stopped in his tracks, confusion radiating off him and she laughed. She was his bounty and she was inviting him in for tea?  As he began to walk again, his steps were less certain as if he expected her to ambush him.  He kept his hand near his blaster and continued up the stone pathway.  

When he entered, the room seemed to shrink to half its size and for a moment, the Mandalorian felt awkward and unsure.  He mentally berated himself for letting these odd thoughts invade his mind.  She was the damn bounty and who cares if he was practically a bull in a china shop in her home?  She was coming with him and it wouldn’t be hers for much longer.

“Where is the little one?  I hope you haven’t left him on the ship unattended.  I thought you’d have learned not to do that.  No matter, we can make up a basket for you to take back.  I’m sure you hardly have anything homemade in your storehouse.”  She busied herself preparing plates of food and motioned for him to sit as she poured tea into heavy cups made of local wood.  He didn’t move, completely unnerved by her comments.  In the blink of an eye, he drew his blaster and pointed it at her.  She merely smiled and his irritation grew.

“How do you know about the kid?”  He growled at her, the hairs on his neck standing on end.  What the hell was going on?  Nothing about this seemed right to him.

“Exactly how I know about you, Din.  And why you’re here.  Please sit. I know you won’t eat with me around, but we can at least chat a bit.”  When he didn’t move, she looked at him pointedly.  “You sat on this job for four days even though you knew it could be done in twenty minutes.  Sit down.”

She had him there.  He sat down with a large thump and she worried he would break the wooden chair, sending himself sprawling into the stone wall behind him.  She giggled a bit at the image, wondering if he’d knock himself senseless in that helmet of his.  He pointed the blaster at her again.

“Talk, bounty.”

“I am Force sensitive, much like your little one and I know the Empire wishes to use us to regain power in the galaxy.  That’s why you were sent after us.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t tell me how you know me or my name.”  He still sounded hard, but he wasn’t growling at he any longer.  Only a select few knew his name and no one since Mandalore had fallen had spoken it directly to him until Moff Gideon said it on Nevarro.  And now this woman was speaking his name as sure as if they had been paired all their lives.

“I’ve always known you.”  Behind the mask, Din’s jaw dropped and his hold on the blaster wobbled a bit.

“How?”

“The Force.  Come with me.”  When she rose, she skirted the table and laid a hand on his shoulder.  Even through the layers of cloth and beskar, he could feel her warmth.  He angled his helmet to look at her before standing up.  He towered over her, his suit of armor crowding her out.  She turned and walked through a small door and motioned for him to come in.

When entered he stopped and in his state of shock, the blaster fell from his hand.  He was surrounded by… himself.  The walls covered in images of his face in different mediums – oil, chalk, crayon, pastels, acrylics, ink, and even embroidery.  No two pictures were the same and he slowly began to walk around the studio, taking it all in.  

He saw his face as a child before it went under the helmet and there in a pencil drawing was his face after a night out with Ran’s crew.  He looked up and saw a small portrait of himself holding the kid with the mudhorn insignia behind them.  All around him his face – his history – was charted on these walls.  Goosebumps broke out on his skin as he turned, seeking answers.

“When was I was ten, the Force began to grant me visions and sight.  By the time I was fourteen, I saw your face for the first time.  I was so in tune with your essence that I begun to draw you, to try and figure out who you were to me.”

“What did you discover?”

“You’re my soulmate.”

“Your what?!”  He barked out a laugh, utterly shocked at her words.  Soulmate?  People really believed that tripe?  He shook his head.

“How else to do you explain any of this?”  He shrugged until she pointed to a picture on the mantle.  He walked over and his breath hitched in his throat.  It was his face on Nevarro, right before he nearly died.  It was a harsh painting, dark with heavy blots of paint.  The image was almost grainy, and he could feel pain radiating from it, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it were his or hers.  He shuttered as he turned away.

“I watched you nearly die, Din.  I felt it in my very core as your life force leaked from you and a part of me was taken with it.”  She walked up to him and raised her hand. She tapped the back of his helmet, right over where the scar was.  “Here. Right here is where my life nearly ended had it not been for a droid.”

There was no way for her to have known what transpired on Nevarro nor where his scar was. And yet, she did and when she touched his helmet, it was as if there was no metal between them.  He could almost feel her soft fingertips along his skin.

“I do not know why the Force thought a Mandalorian would be good for me. But it did.  And I have been haunted for years as you were reckless with Ran.  I watched with pride as you became the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxy.  My heart clenched when you showed what a good man you are Din Djarin when you went back for that little one and saved his life. And I know you have thought about me.”

“What?  I’ve never seen you before in my life and certainly I haven’t felt anything like you’re describing.”  His goosebumps were turning to shivers that he tried to ignore – little fissures of truth coming out of the darkness to shame him.  This was too weird, and he shook his head as if to clear everything.  A simple bounty, that was all this was supposed to be.

“Give me your hand.”  She looked at him and he looked down at her.  When he didn’t move, she asked again.  This time he complied and held it out to her.  She looked at him while removing his glove, exposing his calloused hand to her. She laid her own soft hand on his and closed her eyes.  Din stood rock still as he could feel her in his mind, in his soul.  Her voice sounded in his brain.

“Din.  Remember.” His eyes closed and suddenly a rush of memories came to him.  Gut-wrenching tears as he laid dying.  A smile that rang with laughter that he heard on the wind after receiving his sigil.  A horrified gasp as he shot IG-11.  A small caress filled with warmth as he laid in the Razor Crest while tracking a bounty on Hoth.  A voice telling him to go the other way as he got lost in the jungles of Byss.  A pair of eyes staring at him with love as he renounced Ran’s crew and left.  Even further back to days on Mandalore when a girl made eyes at him that he didn’t return because the specter of a face in his mind told him to wait for her.

He gasped loudly as these broken images formed together into her. His bounty.  She had always been there and yet she hadn’t.  He opened his eyes to watch her staring at him with a calm look on her face.  Those eyes, her voice, that face.  He knew something about her bounty puck photo seemed familiar to him and yet he couldn’t ever place it.  Now he knew why.

“How is it that you see me fully, but I couldn’t see you?”  His voice was quiet, and he curled his hand around hers.  Her smiled returned.

“You’re not Force sensitive to tune into the connection.  But it was there for you, and it showed itself when it could or when your guard was down enough for you to feel.”  She stopped smiling, brows knitting in concern.  “Are you going to turn me in?”

“Hell no.”  She let out a laugh.

“So, you’re just going to go around collecting Force-sensitive beings and protect us all from the Empire, then?”  He stood there and dropped his head back, groaning.  Oh Maker, he was in it now.

“Yeah, sounds like it.”  He pulled his head forward to look at her.  “I don’t know what this is between us, but I need more answers.”

“It’s a lot information, though, Din.  It’ll take some time.”

“Come with me.  We’ll make the time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  He knew that despite the helmet that she could see his grin.  He knew because her smile looked just like his.

Guilt (Part 1) (Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!Fem!Reader)

Slight Chpt 12 and 13 spoilers. Read at your own risk. 

Credit to gif owner. If it is you pls reach out so I can credit you properly.

Description: Moff Gideon has found someone else to run his experiments on and word gets back to Din. Will he take his son far away and try and find somewhere safe? Or will the guilt of an innocent being put in his son’s place eat away at him? (No Y/N or ___ used)

Word Count: Slightly over 4K

Warnings: Mentions of blood and needles. Broken glass. Fainting. Blood loss. Canon type violence. Possible bad writing (first fic pls go easy on me). If I’m missing anything please let me know, I’ve never done one of these before. 

A/N: This is my first fanfic I’ve written so it might be really bad but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head so here it is. I also made up a planet/system and don’t know if star wars has alarm clocks but i wrote it in anyway. I also wrote this in Word first and then realized I couldn’t copy it over so I tried my best to type it over in here. 

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This is why I don’t tell 99% people im bisexual

first person fic: I-

me: I did nothing. you are not me. fuck you.

second person fic: 

YOU

me: oh shit maybe i did do that

Too little too late (6/?)

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

Plot: Steve has a tough conversation with Bucky.

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Prompt list one

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Character/Actor list

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