A/N:I have been wanting to challenge myself to write a drabble a day for a whole month for quite some time now, and I finally decided to just go for it. The goal is to fill every prompt on this listby@creativepromptsforwriting with a short one shot (500 - 2k words) by the end of June. Can I do it? I do not know. But let’s find out! - Today I am going WAY out of my comfort zone and taking a stab at Frankie Morales for the first time. This will eventually be linked to a longer series, but for now it can and should be read as a stand alone that takes place about two years after the events of TF. Any and all feedback on this would be very welcome as this is my first stab at Francisco, and I’d love to know your thoughts!
Word Count : 2k
Warnings: language, mention of drug use, mentions of violence, slight hint of zest, lots of smooching, Francisco cannot keep his hands to himself. nor should he.
Summary:A lot has changed in Frankie’s life since he and the guys returned from the failed mission in the Columbian jungle, and not all of those changes have been easy. But one major change has become the biggest constant in his life - you.
These goddamn things are fuckin’ heavy.
Frankie blew out a breath that turned into a grunt as he dropped the two bags of top soil he’d been carrying, the packages hitting the ground with a dense thud. He had already hauled four of them from where he was parked in the driveway to where he stood now, in front of the raised garden beds you’d helped him build the previous weekend. It was going to look great when it was finished - you were planting a combination of roses and lilacs - and he knew that he wouldn’t regret it once the work was done and the plants were in place. But there were another four bags in the bed of his truck that needed to be moved, and he already knew he would feel the ache of all the bending and lifting for several days.
I’m getting too old for this shit.
Brushing the palms of his work gloves together, he rid them of excess dirt. Clumps of dark brown soil fell as he used one hand to adjust his hat, specks of it landing on his cheek and sticking to the thin layer of sweat that glazed over him in the summer heat. A grinding sensation stuttered down from his scapula to the muscles in the middle of his back as he rolled his shoulder in a circular motion, and Frankie let out a sound that was somewhere between a huff and a groan as he prepared himself to move another hundred and sixty pounds of dirt across the yard.
A/N:I have been wanting to challenge myself to write a drabble a day for a whole month for quite some time now, and I finally decided to just go for it. The goal is to fill every prompt on this listby@creativepromptsforwriting with a short one shot (500 - 2k words) by the end of June. Can I do it? I do not know. But let’s find out! Kicking it off with a flashback for Ezra and Clara from the PoNR universe, because no one else comes to mind so quickly when I hear “fairytale”.
Word Count: 1,816
Warnings: slight hint at smut but nothing explicit - Ezra is one charming little shit and he knows it.
Summary: Clara tells Ezra another one of Kamrea’s constellation myths about Kevva and the depth of her love.
Ezra’s thumb swept slowly over the base of Clara’s wrist as she spoke, his fingers laced through hers and latched over her knuckles.
“…Hixeo thought that he had finally found a way to punish her for the crime of loving Kamrea more than she loved him. He had his loyal jata bahlu dig up a hundred boulders from the rocky terrain of the moon -” Clara raised the hand that was not joined with Ezra’s to point out divots on the lunar surface - “and then as the sand bear slept, he threw them down, bombarding Kevva’s beloved planet with them, trying to destroy all the beauty that she had created here.”
The deep purple sky was clearest at the tail end of the Harvest season. On those nights, when Ezra was home with her instead of spending his cycles on Bahkroma’s Green Moon, the two of them would sprawl themselves out in the clearing between the Thulian fields, backs to the ground and their eyes on the stars while Clara used the constellations to teach him the folktales and myths that she grew up hearing. It was a tradition that started the very first season that he spent there on Kamrea, and while Ezra always listened intently, enraptured with the stories about deities in the stars and the way that Clara told them, he also always found a way to connect the magic and the legends back to the two of them and his love for her.
Starman Chapter Fourteen. Whewwww it has been a journey my friends. And we are starting to see the glimmers of the end. Warnings for patriarchal nonsense and gross sexism and misogyny, murder, incarceration, self harm, one mention of abortion, one mention of rapists, one mention of cannibalism, one mention of torture, extreme age gap marriage and subsequent pregnancy, death, some religious discussion.
Okay so this is a week late and I am sorry. But I hope you’re all ready for a little light spiciness as well as some weird stuff! I tend to dream very vividly and sometimes I open my eyes before I’ve finished and let me tell you it’s trippy.
Warnings for lots and lots of kissing, sexual touching and flirting. Words 6.5k.
I have also had Dieter-as-Ezra in my head for ✨the look✨ I am thinking of for him right now.
Rating: M. Some swearing, just a little angst. (a mention of some spice but nothing graphic)
Summary:Dieter’s gone, but that doesn’t mean you’re not in contact. But with him on the other side of an ocean, you’re free to pay more attention to your surroundings - and growing discontent with the rest of the cast.
Author’s note:
This chapter (and the next) are much different than the others in this story - and have been a challenge to write. Please enjoy.
You felt much better the following morning, especially when you woke up to the feeling of Dieter kissing your stomach, the man kneeling over your legs, the weight of his body suspended above you on his elbows. He’d pushed your shirt up to give himself access to your skin, and he hadn’t showered or shaved while you slept, meaning that his hair was still sleep-wild, making it much fluffier than usual. “Morning, Dieter.” You hummed out his name as you stretched, bringing a hand up to cover your yawn. “What time is it?”
Rating: There’s only like one or two instances of language, everything else is very tame.
Summary: Accompanying your friend to a speed dating event wasn’t ever supposed to result in you meeting someone that you actually liked, especially after the way your last relationship ended. There’s no way it’s that easy, right?
Author’s note:
Here I am again like a clown, writing a character that I have no business writing because I got bored. IDK exactly where this is going yet, but we’re gonna get there together. There ARE some plot spoilers for TUWOMT that will factor in in later parts of this, but this intro is relatively spoiler free.
Enjoy!
“What are you looking for in a guy?” Blinking quickly in an attempt to refocus your attention, you stared at the man across from you. I didn’t even realize time was up with the last guy. “Stability? Lots of attention? A good job?”
“Someone original.” Forcing a smile, you gestured with one hand. “Someone that’ll catch me off guard, but in a good way.” Which isn’t going to be you, Kevin.
A/N:Thank you all SO MUCH for the encouraging feedback on the first part of this series. I am going to be responding to some of the comments and reblogs that I didn’t get to in the next few days, but for now I want you to know that I truly appreciate anyone who has read and will read this story. This one doesn’t have a ton of Joel, but I promise you the next chapter does. ;)
Warnings: language, weapons, discussion of illness, death and loss, general canon-typical apocalyptic hell. A close up of Joel Miller’s face.
Word Count:5,304
Summary:When Tommy and Joel said that they would bring you back to “Jackson”, you had no way of knowing what would be waiting for you once you got there. Finding the town to be far more than you ever imagined, you are faced with a major decision - after so much time on the road, are you ready to try to put down roots?
Joel had told you the truth - the ride back with him and Tommy hadn’t been longer than an hour. You hadn’t encountered any more infected, the cluster of them that you’d put down earlier seemingly the only ones currently wandering these woods, and the two men and their horses were extremely familiar with the route, so you’d reached the main gate just as the sun was starting to make its way behind the mountains. And though you’d seen the time-ravaged and weather-beaten sign about a mile back, though you’d read the chipped, barely legible words, you were still stunnedat what you were looking at.
This wasn’t a settlement. Or a camp. It wasn’t a rogue group of survivors huddled together in an abandoned building. This is a whole goddamn town.
The way you paint a picture with words is amazing. Simply amazing
Letting out a long breath, you slowly opened your eyes. When you tilted your head back to look up you found that Joel’s were waiting. In the dying light of late afternoon - at arm’s length - his eyes were a softer shade of nutty brown, not quite as dark as they seemed behind the barrel of his rifle. You noticed the accordion fold of crows feet that fanned out from the corners of them, and the deep ravine of an old scar cutting across the bridge of his nose. At this distance you saw the patches in his beard and the windburned skin of his cheeks directly above the line of his facial hair, and despite the way your mind was blown to bits by everything you’d seen since the town gates had opened, you couldn’t help but wonder what he was noticing about you for the first time. The exact color of your eyes? Or the silvery strands that muted the original tone of your hair? Was that little hike of his eyebrow caused by the fact that he’d just found the thin scar that struck top to bottom through both of your lips? Was he following the creases in your skin the same way that you’d involuntarily done to his?
I have nothing to say except that normal service will be resumed next week. And that I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m not a biochemist and my biology education stopped age 16 so forgive any inaccuracies. I have tried to use inclusive language gender-wise.
I also owe nods to both Terry Pratchett and The Walking Dead. And probably a whole host of other things since I am a total hoor for horror and science fiction and the combination of the two.
Warnings for murder, gore, blood, human experimentation, vast discussions of pregnancy and conception, miscarriage, religion, a mention of religious based transphobia and bioessentialism, periods, sperm (but not in a sexy way), non specific mention of rape, suicide.
A/N: I have been wanting to challenge myself to write a drabble a day for a whole month for quite some time now, and I finally decided to just go for it. The goal is to fill every prompt on this listby@creativepromptsforwriting with a short one shot (500 - 2k words) by the end of June. Can I do it? I do not know. But let’s find out! - Today’s prompt goes to a character who I desperately need to get back to, Pedro Across the Street… or in this case Gabe, because this flashback one shot is related to The Long Con (part one here). Pats talking to Patrick about the “pig blankets” in Calls stuck with me, I guess.
Summary: A flashback to a different job a few years before your current one, when you and Gabe were playing different roles, before either of you had been honest with each other about how you felt, neither of you ready to suggest taking your criminal professional relationship to a more personal level.
No one really knows their neighbors. Not allof them, anyway. And the ones that they think they know? Like Jeff two doors down who mows his lawn every weekend, Charlotte with her political bumper stickers from four election cycles ago or the Hendersons and their picture perfect holiday display that goes up every December? All they really know about those people starts and ends with the superficial basics - the things that they want you to see, that they decide to let you in on or try to fool you into believing.
Jeff could have ties to the deep web. Charlotte might be stealing from the PTA. And who knows what the Hendersons and all their lights, wreaths and tinsel were trying to hide.
Most suburbanites were happy to toss half-hearted waves and nods at one another from their porches and mailboxes. They were satisfied with recognizing the cars that inhabited the driveways on either side of their own, somehow equating knowing what their neighbors drove to knowing anything real about them. The illusion of conversation and camaraderie was far more palatable than actually achieving those things.
Rating:There’s only like one or two instances of language, everything else is very tame - this is a first date, after all.
Summary:Your first date with Javi brings up some uncomfortable topics, but at least you’re being honest … right?
Author’s note:
I’m still unsure of where this one is going - but I’m having fun so I’m not going to complain. I am really happy that the intro was so well received, and I hope that you enjoy this part just as much. Javi is a lot of fun to write - and I’ve been trying to balance that playful, child-like charm that we see throughout most of the movie with what we learn about him in the end … it’s challenging. I welcome questions, concerns and criticism - so don’t be shy!
You were outside of the restaurant at 6:40 on Friday, second guessing whether or not you even wanted to go in.
It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see Javi - it was that you regretted making the suggestion in the first place. Javi telling you that he was staying on the Upper West Side should have been your first clue to the man’s status. The offer to send a car for you should have been the second. But I suggested it before, when I thought he was just … just some guy.
But Javi wasn’t just ‘some guy’ and a simple Internet search had confirmed the reason why you’d recognized his name and face - at least somewhat.
One of the things that I most appreciate about the Reader in your stories is that they are authentic and honest. Especially when it might be easier to tell white lies or what they think the other person might want to hear.
I look forward to Javi showing her that some things are not too good to be true
Pairing:Frankie Morales x Female Reader x Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia
Word Count: 7,705
Rating: Explicit. (language, sexual acts, sexual contact with two separate men)
Summary:This is it: the moment when things change between you and Pope … what happens between the two of you - and how do you handle it? But just as importantly, how do Pope and Frankie handle it?
Author’s note:
I am so damn sorry that this has taken so long to get out. I didn’t forget about them, I just got really sidetracked with other things. But we’re back! Thank you all for being so patient with me.
He would have stopped if he’d wanted to. You knew that - you knew exactlyhow he would have reacted - freezing and then straightening all the way up, pulling himself away from you and out of your hold, hands leaving your body without hesitation as he turned away and spluttered out an excuse. But Pope didn’t do any of those things, and before you knew it, he was kissing you, the man’s lips soft and warm against yours.
I appreciate how you didn’t have Pope and the reader immediately have sex. It felt real that they shared a couple of kisses and are now taking some time to process how they feel and how they’re going to move forward. I also admire Frankie because I don’t know how he’s not feeling jealous. I know I couldn’t do it!
My dearest loves, this is nothing but loving smut and it starts immediately. Obviously I have warnings about being 18+ everywhere on my blog but we’re going to reiterate for this chapter! There’s some kissing, oral sex (both m and f receiving), unprotected p in v and exploration of some (hopefully) interesting differences between their physicalities….we also flip back and forth between perspectives here for the first time.
I have tried to be mindful of not attributing many physical characteristics to “her” beyond the fact that she has hair and is a cis woman. This continues here.
A/N:I have been wanting to challenge myself to write a drabble a day for a whole month for quite some time now, and I finally decided to just go for it. The goal is to fill every prompt on this listby@creativepromptsforwriting with a short one shot (500 - 2k words) by the end of June. Can I do it? I do not know. But let’s find out! - This one immediately brought the Prince of Dorne to mind. It’s not connected to The Viper & the Wild Thing or Aphelion… but it is sort of connected to this one shot I wrote about you and Oberyn and the blood oranges.
Word Count: 1,005
Warnings: None really. Implied smut and one (1) solo swear word but otherwise exceptionally tame for Oberyn
Summary: Oberyn makes a special trip to the marketplace in search of something specifically for you, only to realize that he will get to reap the benefit of your gift, too.
The open air market on the outskirts of Sunspear had always been one of Oberyn’s favorite places in Dorne. Because it is always so… alive. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he closed his eyes and let a slow, easy grin spread across his lips. The aroma of rich spices and herbal oils swirled through the hot, Dornish air to mix with sweet fruits, floral perfumes, and the pungent smell of still sizzling, just cooked meat. Always so enticing.
Under the hot sun, the bouquet of scents seemed to blossom even more vibrantly, and he hummed contentedly. As he opened his eyes again he noted that the same was true about the colorful tents that covered the stalls, their awnings appearing even more bright in the unfiltered sunlight. The shouts of vendors and their customers haggling over prices, the clang of hammered copper, and the whimsical trill of lyre strings filled his ears more fully with every step he took, and it would be easy to follow the music of the market to every last one of the makeshift shops that sprawled through the streets to form a small city of their own.
