Dreamboat | Greaser!frankie Morales | Part Two

dreamboat | greaser!frankie morales | part two

diner cred to @thatretrobitch​

pairing: francisco “catfish” morales x reader; 1950’s greaser!frankie x reader

warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking, ya know… 1950s stuff + death and war, and being rude af

a/n: part two of dreamboat

masterlist

dreamboat: part one | part two

“If I didn’t know any better, Francisco, I’d say you were teacher in a past life.” You look up at him and smirk. He looks over to you and gives you a crooked smile. He adjusts his jacket and runs his left hand through his hair.

Frankie taught you a lot more history than the teacher. Frankie had a lot more patience and explained each topic that was covered in much better detail and simply enough to understand. Like when Hattie Wyatt Caraway of Arkansas became the first woman elected to the U.S. Senate in 1932 to fill the vacancy caused by the death of her husband. Frankie compared it to the demonstration of the first long distance telephone service between New York and San Francisco in 1913 – surprising but needed.

You didn’t have Frankie for a third period, just first and fourth, but he made sure to meet you out each of your classes and walked you over to your next class. He had conversed with the boys about asking you to Rosie’s Diner on Friday night. Everyone knows when a guy takes a little darlin’ down to Rosie’s, she’s unavailable. Frankie knows you probably don’t know what going to the diner with him means but he assumes if you did, you wouldn’t go. So he decides that the less you knew the better – well at least that’s what Tom decided.

“Ya know, doll. I like the way you say my name, but how ‘bout ya just call me Frankie, huh? I don’t use the entire thing anymore.”

You cock your head to the side and your smiles turns into a slight frown. “Do you not like the way Francisco sounds?”

He tucks his hands into his jean pockets, shrugs, and looks down at his dirty Chuck Taylors. “Thanks, I do like it, but it don’t… it don’t sound cool, you know? I got a reputation to keep up – all the guys do.”

Frankie stopped using the name Francisco at the start of freshman year. Pope stopped using Santiago around the same time. Their teachers would call them Francis and Saint because they found it difficult to pronounce the boys’ names correctly. Frankie was too shy to say anything and Pope was still unsure about his accented English, so when Will laughed and told the teacher, “Ain’t that a bite? You got a degree, but can’t pronounce an ABC name,” the boys knew Will was going to be a great friend. The boys thought that would be the end of it, but then Benny decided to join his brother and say, “How ‘bout, since ya feel so high and mighty, you call ‘em Frankie and Pope? We got Francisco like that city on the west coast, so call ‘em Frankie. Then we got Santiago. You wanna call ‘em Saint, then give ‘em the highest honor.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better,” you stopped walking and placed a hand on his arm. “I like your name. I think it suits you very well.”

He smiles and nods. He doesn’t know if he’s nodding because he’s convincing himself he likes it too or if he’s nodding because he’s glad you like it too. He liked your company because you weren’t too invasive, but he could also tell that you wanted to get to know him. He knew he wasn’t the most open to people, he has his father to thank for that.

As young 19-year-old – about a year older than Frankie – his father was drafted and fought in World War 1 in 1918 as a US Army soldier and was then sent off to France a few weeks in to fight with the AEF, the American Expeditionary Forces. Because of this, Frankie’s father wasn’t the most expressive when in public but was easily the most caring when it came to his family. When Frankie was growing up, his father had spoiled his baby boy and made sure he worked hard as a welder so that Frankie wouldn’t want for anything. Frankie remembers his father coming home from work late at night, oil and bits of metal stuck to him, and always turning his frown into a smile when he laid eyes upon his son.

His father’s closure to the world only grew when he saw his family in danger. Frankie figured that by growing up within a military family, it would lead to him serving in the military as his father did before him. When Frankie was coming to the age of enlistment, he told his family about him wanting to go off to the military, but his father was very much against it. All his father wanted for his son was for Frankie to live his life the way he wanted to, so Frankie didn’t enlist. One day when Frankie was at school, recruiters came to the Morales home and were knocking the door down. Frankie’s father had informed them that his son would not be serving. He was told that because Frankie was able, male, and was soon to be of age, he had to enlist whether he was needed or not. His father complied; except he wrote his own name down instead of his son’s.

His father never regretted going to war. He still had nightmares, which Frankie knew all too well. He had met Frankie’s mother when he came back home in 1921 and after years of trying, he was blessed with a son in 1935. All was good in the world until the year 1950 – Frankie was 15 years old. In August of 1950, a letter came in the post reading the following:

SIR: FRANCISCO MORALES SR.

You are hereby notified that you, on the 21 day of August of 1950, have been legally drafted in the service to the Armed Forces of the United States of America. You are to report to the Armed Forces station below and will be transported to Daejeon, Korea.

Frankie’s father never came back.

His body was never recovered – just his ID tags. Frankie’s mother was told that the last transmission received with the whereabouts of Francisco Morales Sr. were near the Nakdong River in South Korea. Frankie always carried his father’s ID tags around his neck no matter where he went. Those tags always reassured him of himself knowing that he was doing what his father wanted him to do.

Frankie walked you down the steps of school building and stopped at the sidewalk. “Ya know, if ya need a ride, I can take ya home – aint no trouble.”

You smile and shake your head. “I appreciate that. I told my mother I’d take the bus back home.” You knew your mother would have a fit if she saw you get dropped off by a boy, but she may still be at work. You looked back at Frankie and saw that he had a slight frown on his face as he played with a necklace hidden in his white t-shirt. You weren’t sure the reason behind it, but he didn’t want to pry. “Actually, I’ll take a ride.”

His eyes lit up and nodded. “Great but I do gotta warn ya, doll. I gotta take Ironhead and Benny back to their place. Pope usually goes back to mines.” A ride home in a car full of teenage boys – what can go wrong?

The pair of you walk down to the school’s parking lot and there you see students laughing in their cars – 4 to 5 in a car – all while having a smoke and others are drinking from beer cans. You have no doubt that it’s beer cans when one gets tossed towards you with left over beer splattering over your white skirt. Frankie takes notice of the yellow stains and the grimace growing on your face. He looks over at the teenagers in a beat-up Chevy.

“Aye watch where ya tossin’ shit, birdbrain.” The teens look over at Frankie and walk over to him. You place a hand on his arm and look up at him.

“Frankie, c’mon. Let’s just go to your car, huh?” you plead. His arm tightens and as the teens arrive in front of him, Frankie protectively put you behind him and adjusts his jacket – a tick of his you’ve taken note of. The three boys who walked over to Frankie look over at you and smirk.

“Well shit Frankie, pal.” One of them takes a smoke and blows the out towards his side. “You already smashin’ up this little new betty? Don’t you work fast… first Michelle, then Tiffany, now this one?”

Frankie’s jaw tightens and his hold on your arm shifts. “How ‘bout you stuff it, Jack? You know you ain’t even supposed to be here. This ain’t your turf.”

Jack removes his hat, a cowboy hat he’s become fond of, and fixes his hair. He puts it back on and laughs. “You’re right, but I clearly don’t care. Oberyn ain’t out the can ‘till Friday, so I call the shots. My boys wanna be here and screw all these chick-a-dees, then they will. I know you ain’t gon’ do nothin’.”

“He will,” you hear a click and quickly turn your head to see Pope and the boys, Benny holding up a pocketknife. “But he ain’t doin’ it alone either.” The Bandits circle the three men and puff up their chests.

“Alright,” Jack holds his hands up. “We’re gone but trust me when I say that Oberyn ain’t gon’ be too happy to hear this.” With that he snaps his head over to his boys directing them back to their car. They turn to leave and Jack walks away backwards. When he’s satisfied with the distance between himself and The Bandits, he turns on his heel and runs to his car. He jumps in the driver’s seat, gives his girl a smooch, and revs the engine – with that he’s gone.

Pope looks at you and gives your shoulder a quick squeeze. “You good? Hope those bumrats ain’t spook ya too bad.” You shake your head and smile shyly. You look down at your ruined skirt and shrug.

“Just a ruined skirt but that’s okay. I wasn’t fond of it.” Will laughs at your comment fluffs yours skirt from the bottom, earning a nudge from Frankie.

“Let’s get her home, huh? I gotta drop off everyone else,” Frankie says. Tom tells Frankie that he’s got detention and to go on without him. Tom goes back towards the building while everyone piles up in Frankie’s Cherry Red 1945 Mustang GT – his father’s gift to him for his 15th birthday, also his last gift.

Per usual, Benny and Will leans the driver’s seat forwards and get in to sit in the back while Pope goes to sit in his usual spot as shotgun. Frankie tuts at Pope and points to the back. Pope scoffs but shoots Frankie a wink. He gets in and sits in between the brothers, being the smallest of the three, and Frankie runs over to open the door for you to sit up front. He grabs your books and hands them to Pope. As you situate yourself and buckle your seatbelt, Frankie gets in and turns on his baby. He revvs the engine and backs up out the school’s parking garage, but not before revving his engine one more time for the freshmen per Benny’s request.

On the drive to the brother’s house, Benny grabs your notebook and looks through your notes of the day. He looks through the math notes you took during 4th period and immediately closes it. “You sure are smart if you’re taking this angle stuff. I’m guessing it’s college prep?”

You look over your shoulder and nod. “I’m currently taking college preparatory trigonometry. They unfortunately didn’t have any other advanced placement for me here.”

The boys let out a harmony of “ohs” and Will shakes Frankie’s shoulder. “Frankie! She’s smart like you, buddy!”

Pope smirks and joins in on the teasing. “Lo vez, hermano! Being smart doesn’t make you un-cool. Being you does! No te hagas ver como el tonto porque no lo eres.”

You see, brother… don’t make yourself seem dumb because you aren’t.

You look at Pope and smile. “I agree with you, Santiago. Frankie is very intelligent so he shouldn’tdumb himself down because he thinks that’s what people think of him.” Pope stops and looks at you. “You know some Spanish, angel face?” You eagerly nod. “I’m very familiar with the language. They had us choose electives at my old school. I took Spanish, Italian, and French. I had a lot of a free time.”

Pope looks at you in shock but happily hollers. “Well sugar you sound pretty good speakin’ ‘em”

You couldn’t explain it, but you felt giddy. You felt happy to be around the boys and you knew you wanted to continue to be around them.

With Frankie getting out of the car and moving his seat forward, Will and Benny get dropped off first, but not without teasing him about “asking the chick.” Frankie flips them off and Pope lets out a belly laugh. Frankie apologetically looks at you and mouths sorry. You blush and mouth that’s okay.

Once leaving the brothers, Pope tells Frankie to turn up the radio. Frankie looks at Pope through the rearview mirror and narrows his eyes. “Switch to 12,” Pope says with a wink. Frankie rolls his eyes and turns the knob so the needle hits channel 12. Once Frankie hears the recognizable melody from “Takes Two to Tango” by Pearl Bailey. Frankie goes to switch the channel, but you stop his hand. He glances over to you and he sees you mouthing the words. He looks back at Pope who wiggles his eyebrows and sings out loud and to Frankie’s surprise, you join Pope singing at the top of your lungs. He laughs at your attempts at dancing in your seat and looks back at Pope who was waving his hands in the air.

Frankie thought that you’d be this proper, shy little thing but here you were having singing and laughing with his best friend. You gave him the slightest nudge and smiled in his direction. “C’mon Frankie. Don’t be a sour puss. I know you know this song!” You were right. He did know this song. He and Pope sang it so much because Pope thought he could woo some girl – he didn’t really know what the lyrics meant so you can guess what happened. If you guessed he slept with her… you’d be correct.

You poked Frankie in the ribs light enough to not affect his driving and giggled as he sang out with Pope. You liked seeing this Frankie – not that big tough guy you saw at the parking lot. He seemed like he had a big heart but was scared to show it and you were determined, but you were ripped away from your internal planning when Frankie politely asked for your address.

“It’s a shame you ain’t hangin’ longer sweetheart,” Pope began. “I think you’d like being around us two mucks. You would definitely like Frankie’s mom’s cooking. She makes the best food in town.” You smiled as the two best friends bickered about whose mom had the best food.

“I would have loved to, but I have to be home and do chores before my mother gets home.”

Frankie looks over to you and gives you a reassuring smile. “It’s alright. Maybe next time, cool?” You smile at the invitation and nod. Frankie continues to drive as you and Pope make a conversation about the possibility of you tutoring him in math. With them being high school seniors, they are not failing one class.

You feel on top of the world, laughing and talking with your new friends, until you spot the yellow Pontiac in the driveway and your mother coming out of it. Your face drops and the boys immediately take notice.

“What’s wrong?” Frankie asks. You straighten out your top and ask Pope for your books as you ready yourself to run out of the car. You look at Frankie and offer a weak smile.

“My mother won’t be happy with me is all.” You’d ask Frankie to drop you off a couple of houses before your own, but you know your mother has already seen you. As Frankie pulls up to your house, the boys’ jaws drop. You wouldn’t say your house was big, but to the boys, it was huge. Your two-story home consisted of 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. The exterior of the home was beige with dark brown trimming and the river rock pathway leading up to your home was lined with grass so green you’d think it was plastic.

Your mother, dressed to the nines in a pale pink dress and white belt, looks at the hot rod parked in front of her home and places her hands on her hips as she sees Frankie run out and open your door. Your mother would normally love seeing her daughter be treated by a gentleman, but she isn’t very happy to see that it’s Frankie. She has always dreamed of her daughter being courted by a young man in polished Oxford shoes and ironed pleated pants not a worn out leather jacket and dirty chucks.

You thank Frankie for the ride and look over at your upset mother. The boys say hello to her as she gives them the ungenuine smile of hers you have seen many times. You wave goodbye to both boys and begin to walk up to your mother. You hear whispers behind you and then you hear your mother say, “Is there something else you’d like to say, boy?”

You turn and you see Pope shove Frankie towards you. His face turns red as he sees your mother staring him down and he knows that this may not be the best time to ask you.

“On with it, young man. My daughter and I have work to do.”

Frankie once again runs his hand through his hair and clears his throat. “I- I, uh, I was wonderin’ if ya wanted to hang with us at Rosie’s on Friday. The shakes are pretty good so we could ma-“

“What’s your name, young man?” You look at your mother. You narrow your eyes at her for interrupting Frankie.

“It-It’s Frankie,” he stutters, “my name’s Frankie, ma’am.”

Your mother gives her less than friendly smile again. “Well, Frankie, you’ll understand where I’m coming from when I tell you this – you are not the kind of person I want my daughter befriending. You just don’t quite… how can I put this nicely? You don’t fit a mother’s standards.”

“Mother!”

“Quiet.” she tells you. “You will not be around these boys again, do you understand? Your father works too hard for you to just ruin your life like this. You asked to be taken out of the pristine private school we paid for you to go to and we allowed you to enroll in public school. Why are you bringing home some… some hoodlum! How can you do this to us?”

You wished this had surprised you, but it wasn’t the first time your mother disrespected your choice of friends. You huffed and you felt tears coming to your eyes as you saw Frankie’s defeated look in his eyes and Pope fighting the urge to get out of the car.

You mother calls your name, and you turn to look at her. She walks to you, heels clicking the pavement, and cups your jaw. “You will not associate yourself with these boys, do we understand each other?” You see Frankie nod to you and walk back to his car. You look back at your mother and nod. “Yes, Mother. I understand.” Your mother smiles at you and gives your cheek a pat. “Good girl. Now… get inside and put that skirt in the hamper. Your allowance is going towards a new skirt.”

She leads you into the house and you look back and see Frankie’s car is still there. You stop in your tracks and look at your mother. “Mother, may I please run back and grab a paper I left?”

“Is it school related?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very well. Go grab it and say goodbye and come back in. We have to get dinner going.” You nod and run back to the car and your mother walks into the house.

Pope rolls down the passenger side window and both boys look at you. You smile at Pope and look at Frankie.

“Does Rosie’s Diner have sundaes?” Pope smirks and turns to Frankie while Frankie nods with a confused face. “Well,” you start, “If Friday’s invitation is still open, pick me up by the green house down the street at 6pm. She’ll be going to my grandmother’s house up north.”

“Sounds like a plan, doll.”

The light breeze surprises you as it picks up the more you walk down the street. You walk past two houses and you see the red backlights of the cherry red mustang you seemed to miss.

Your mother, thankfully, left to your grandmother’s home about two hours ago, much earlier than expected. She called not very long ago to make sure you were home and doing homework. You told her that you were planning to retire early as your homework began to give you a headache. She insisted you eat dinner and sleep as she didn’t want to see eyebags under your eyes when she got back tomorrow. She bid you goodnight and said she’d be home by tomorrow’s lunchtime. Once you hung the phone on the hook, you ran to your room and began to ready yourself for the night.

You grew giddy as 6 o’clock crept closer and closer. You had applied your blush and mascara so carefully you’d have thought you were dusting the finest of china. You did not want to wear too much makeup; you didn’t want to seem as though you were trying too hard. You picked out the pins out of the curls on your head you’d put up right when your mother left and watched as the soft and tight curls fell and framed your face. You grabbed your wide tooth comb and brushed the curls out, parting your side at a side so there was more hair and volume on one side. You sprayed a tight hold hairspray all over so you could make sure your hair stood – Frankie wouldn’t want to see frazzled hair, no man would, you thought.

As you went through your closet, you decided that a dress was the best choice as it was simple enough to either be dressed up or dressed down. You went with a white collared black dress with thin white windowpane patterned lines all over. You wore your black flats and added a black shiny belt running across the waist. You get closer to Frankie’s car and you see him get out of his car – you figured he had seen you coming.

“How ya doin’ there, doll?”

“Hello, Frankie.” You wave and get closer to him. Once you’re in front of him you fix his jacket lapel and look up at him. “Aren’t you sight for sworn eyes.”

His eyes widen then starts laughing loudly and your face goes red. He nearly falls in laughter as his hands catch himself on his knees. “W-What’d ya just say?”

“I said aren’t you a sight for sworn eyes,” you frown. “Is that not appropriate?”

He catches his breath and puts a hand on his belly. He reaches over and tucks your hair behind your ear with the other hand. “The saying is a sight for sore eyes, doll; not sworn eyes.”

You feel as if your face is about to burst as you start laughing at yourself. You just cannot believe you’ve messed up your first attempt at flirting with Frankie. “I was really sure it was sworn.”

He smiles brightly and shakes his head. “Hey… can’t say ya ain’t tried right?” You giggle and nod. He look you up and down and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Te vez hermosa.” You look beautiful.

Have you ever had that feeling when there’s a puppy trying to get comfortable, but it can’t so it walks over to you and lays with you – falling into a deep and peaceful sleep? You know how it makes your heart feel as if it’s grown twice in size because the puppy chose you and trusted you to protect it while it slept? That’s how you felt when those words came out of Frankie’s mouth.

“Muchas gracias, Francisco.” Thank you very much, Francisco.

He playfully rolls his eyes at you and lets out a laugh. He points to the car and says, “get in the damn car.” He runs over to your door and lets you in, as per usual, and off you two went to Rosie’s Diner.

Frankie leads you into a bright neon-lit diner not very far from your home, about 25 minutes from your place. The diner stands out from the black concrete parking lot and pine trees decorating its background. He opens the light brown doors and places a hand on your lower back as you walk in – not too low or too high.

“Howdy’ho kiddos.” You’re greeted by a woman in her late 40’s or early 50s – the grey hair and sweet smile give it away. “Hey there, Frankie. Bandits meetin’ ya here?”

Frankie smiles at the woman, gives her a hug, and a quick kiss on the cheek; a kiss she smiles at and hums in content. “Hey Ro. Boys are comin’ in a while. You know they ain’t missin’ your special tonight.”

“There’s a special night every night for my favorite bandits, Frankie. Who’s this, huh? You finally bringin’ a girl for me to meet?” Frankie shakes his head from side to side smiling. He turns to you and introduces you to Rosie, the diner’s owner and one of his favorite people. “She’s new in town and I wanted to show her the best diner in the world.”

Rosie slaps Frankie’s arm and laughs. “Stop talkin’ sweet ‘fore your teeth rot, boy. You’re too pretty to be all gums now. I knew my boys were comin; your usual booth’s open, but take the table next to it, yeah. Ya need the extra seat ‘less you sittin’ the girl on ya lap.” Frankie begins to stutter a protest as you stifle a laugh.

“It’s very nice to meet you Miss Rosie. I’m in awe of your diner and excited to try your food.”

“Well it’s very nice to meet the girl who Frankie finally decided to bring to the diner. It’s a very special moment in his life ya know?” You cock your head to the side and take a quick glance at Frankie.

“Why’s that, Miss Rosie?”

As Rosie was about to explain the beginning of courtships of 99% of the teenagers in town, Frankie dragged you away with the dramatic excuse of being so hungry he can eat a horse and how he’ll drop dead if he doesn’t get a shake.

As you make it to the table Rosie had sent you to, you’d think that Frankie would have pulled out your chair, but a couple of some teens you remember seeing at school look in yours and Frankie’s direction whispering among themselves. You took a seat and looked at Frankie to ask if he knew them but as you were about to ask, you saw his face looking back at them with a deep stare. He gave them a single nod towards the door and to your surprise, they ran. Frankie scanned the room and he knew everyone would be taking in the scene. Frankie had never taken a girl out in public – especially not a girl like you. Sure people knew about other girls he’s been with, but everyone knew they weren’t together.

Frankie sat down after everyone in the diner turned their attention back to where it previously was and he passes you a diner menu, but still tense due to the eyes that locked with his back once more.

When the waitress you learned was named Vi and was obsessed with Will, Frankie had ordered a basket of fries for the two to share, a cherry soda for him and a sundae of your pick for you. Vi was also an older woman, best friends with Rosie, and had an innocent crush on Will’s blonde self. Frankie told you about the time Will brought Vi a bouquet of flowers for her birthday and Vi almost attacked the poor kid to the ground with kisses. Vi was sweet and she made you feel very good about yourself as she fixed your collar and fluffed your hair because “her Frankie needs to see what he’s got in front of him.”

You were nearly done with your sundae as you heard the distinctive pitch that is Benny’s voice as he said “What’s cookin’ good lookin’ don’t you look like a dream,” and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You greet each and every one of the boys as they take their seats around the table – Benny calling dibs on one of the seats next to you. Benny puts his arm around the back rest of your white chair and calls Vi over to place a new order.

As the night continues, you feel free. You feel so relaxed and at ease with the boys around you that you don’t even notice the dirty looks some girls were giving you. Benny puts his head on your shoulder and give his cheek a little pat resulting in Benny playfully trying to bite your hand. Frankie clears his throat and Benny looks over at him and smirks.

“I ain’t trynna steal ya girl, Frankie. If she hangin’ with us, ya gotta get used to us playin ‘round.”

Frankie turns red as Benny calls you “his girl” and rolls his eyes with a chuckle. He looks out the window and immediately tenses. You follow his gaze and see a 1942 black Ford with some boys in it – one of the being that Jack guy from school – revv its engine as it speeds back and forth through the parking lot. He grabs the boys eyes and directs them towards the window and Benny stands up immediately. The boys follow suit and Frankie turns to you.

“Stay here alright, doll? We’ll be back.”

You turn from Frankie to the window and back to Frankie with a worried look painting your face. “What’s going on Frankie?”

“They shouldn’t be here. This ain-“ You both turn at the sound of a crash and see Pope being held against Frankie’s car by a guy in a black tee with its sleeves rolled. Frankie runs out of the diner and you run after him. You know you shouldn’t be getting in between this, but you aren’t going to let anyone hurt your new friends.

Frankie runs up behind this guy, turns him around, and shoves him away from his car and friends. The guy smirks and nods at Frankie. “Did you miss me Frankie?”

“What the hell are you doing here, Oberyn? We already told ya friend there that this ain’t your turf.”

You had to admit, Oberyn had this strut to him that showed his self-confidence and the combination of his flirtatious smile and smoldering eyes only made him more attractive than he already was. Jack came to stand next to him and as he turned to toss some keys over to another friend of his, you caught sight of the word VIPERS with two snakes on the back of his jacket.

“Yeah… he told me ‘bout it. But ya anna know what else Jackie told me? He told me that ya got ya’self a knockout.” Oberyn locks eyes with you and winks. He tries to walk over to you, but Frankie pushes back and away from you.

“Don’t get near her.” Oberyn lets out a sarcastic chuckle and gets in Frankie’s face.

“How ‘bout ya make me, Morales?”

The next thing you knew, you were yelling and crying with Will held you away as you saw Frankie and Oberyn duke it out on the concrete while Benny and Pope tried to pry Oberyn away – Jack and some other guy pushing them away. You caught a glimpse of Frankie’s bruising cheek and Oberyn’s bloody nose. You only noticed the officer’s arrival once Will dragged you back in the diner and making sure Rosie held you back as he ran back to be by Frankie’s side when the local sheriff gets out the car.

dreamboat taglist:

@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @funerals-with-cake @seasonschange-butpeopledont

buckles | marcus moreno

pairing: marcus moreno x f!reader

warnings: 18+ SMUT - touching, fingering, oral (m+f receiving), sneaky and unprotected sex, PinV penetration

a/n: part two of suits. it’s my first time writing smut so pls pls pls enjoy.

masterlist

suits | buckles

“Alright Marcus, you can take a look and see if you like it. If there’s anything you don’t like, we can alter it.” 

“Thanks, Tilly. It fits pretty well. Mind if I keep it on for a while? See how it moves?”

You smile hearing your fiancé suggest wanting to keep on the new suit. You knew exactly what was going to happen when you caught a glimpse of a glint of mischief that flashed in your fiancé’s eyes. You thank and big farewell to Tilly, the new design department’s intern, as she beams a smile in your direction and a shy wave. The girl was very sweet, but you didn’t miss the way she looked at Marcus. She harbored a crush for your Marcus, but you didn’t mind it - it was hard not to have a crush on Marcus. It was merely a schoolgirl crush.

You stand and glide over to Marcus and circle him as a vulture would circle his scavenged meal. You eyed him up and down as you let out a sigh. You drank the image in - Marcus in his new black tactical vest with silver buckles, black cargo pants and boots which you assumed were military combat boots. 

“You lose something or you like what you see?” You don’t need to look at his face to know he’s smirking. You can hear it. You simply nod and reach over to touch his chest.

“I do like what I see.” You gently touch one of the buckles on his shoulders and run your hand down to the new buckle adorning his waist; covering his pants zipper. You slip your fingers under the buckle and pull him closer to you. “I like it a lot.” You briefly look up and are met with his lips leaning in. You smile and attach your lips onto his - deepening the kiss. You let out a gasp mixed with a short goggle as Marcus pulls away while biting your lower lip in the process.

“We have about,” he says checking his watch, “15 minutes before Tilly comes back. Are you going to do something about all these buckles or are you going to stand there and watch me pull on them wishing it was you?”

“Pulling on the buckles or pulling on your cock?”

“Both.”

You smirk and slowly fall to your knees with your hands never leaving Marcus’ figure as you go down. You’re face to face with your lover’s intimate area and you can’t help but look up at him as you lick a long stride up his clothed pelvis. 

You watch as Marcus throws his head back as you take gentle bites at his prominent bulge print protruding from his cargo pants. “Babygirl, please don’t tease me right now.”

“I’m not, amor mio. You just have to be patient.” With that said, you slowly pull his zipper down and bring his pants down until it pooled around his ankles. You kiss the tip of his cock and watch as a bud of pre-cum seeps through his blue briefs. You let out a quiet moan at seeing him this hard for you. You and Marcus didn’t get to have much time to yourselves as the two of you worked full time and Missy was usually, if not always, around at least one of you. 

“15 minutes doesn’t call for patience, mi vida. It calls for hurry the fuck and suck on my cock.”

“Ooooh, aren’t you bossy.” You smirk up at him and give him a mock salute. “Yes, sir. Anything Mr. Moreno wants.” His briefs join his pants with you taking his thick cock in your right hand. You give him a pump, bringing out a deep groan run up his throat and slip out of his mouth. You give the tip of his throbbing cock a kitten lick before flattening your tongue out and taking him inside your mouth. 

His hands make their way to the crown of your head and reach for your hair, grabbing it all and styling a messy ponytail and holding it in one hand as the other cups your warming cheek. You direct your eyes up at your fiancé and allow his cock to go deeper down your throat as he opens his pleasure-filled eyes and smirks at you. 

“Aren’t you a vision with my cock in your mouth… I know you can go deeper than that, querida. I know you like choking on my cock, don’t you?” You nod and right when you are about to take him the deepest your throat would allow, he pulls himself out of your mouth and pulls you up by the forearms. He puts your arms behind your back and holds them there as he pushes your front against the cold wooden wall in the room pressing himself behind you. You push your ass back and into him and the two of you share a groan.

“Tell me what you want, amor. Tell me and it’s yours,” he says with arousal and frustration mixing in his rich voice so much more attractive than it already is. His soft lips and hot tongue attack your neck, dangerously close to that spot that makes you weak. 

“M-Marcus, I want you. F-Fuck I want you so bad.” He tuts and savagely sucks on that spot on your neck. 

“You have me. Is that ring not enough? What else do you want from me?”

Your head falls back as Marcus’ hand snakes down and hikes you dress skirt up and over your hips. You stifle out a moan while he brings his hand up, licks his index and middle fingers and you watch as they disappear under your panties. Marcus slips your panties to the side and plays with your lips. He lets his middle finger slip in between and you cry out his name as he presses against your clit. He covers your mouth with his other hand and you hold yourself up with your hands pressed against the wall in front of you. He continues to play with your clit while his cock lays against your ass, only giving you an added sense of pleasure. You reach a hand around and grab his cock and give it a few pumps.

“I- fuck, I want your cock. Fuck, I want your cock inside me.”

Marcus lets out a deep chuckle into your ear and chills run up your spine. He lets your panties fall, spreads your legs out and bends your upper half a little forward. You feel as he leans down and kisses the back of your thighs, leaving a trail of peppered kisses up to your lower back.

Marcus has always loved your lower back, not because it was close to your ass, but because your lower back was a sensitive place for you and his beard only made it better. Marcus left wet kisses and licked the stride following your spine.

As Marcus slowly pushes his way into you, you let out a sensual whine, making him slide out and right back in again. Marcus’ thrusts start out slow, wanting to hear the unholy sound of his cock being coated in your arousal. With you whining and grabbing onto his forearm around your waist for dear life, Marcus just can’t help picking up the pace. 

He flicks his wrist up to check the time and his grip on you tightens. “We got 10 minutes, baby. You think you can cum in 10?” 

You look back at him and nod. “Marcus, if you would fuck me harder it, fuck, it would take 5.”

He smirks and pushes deeper until he’s completely in, the next thrust being fast and tighter to you. Marcus loved seeing you come apart because of him. Whether it was with his fingers, mouth, or cock, he loved being the reason you went into euphoria. 

He played with your clit more and more as his thrusts got sloppier. Something about racing against the clock and the possibility of being caught by the intern turned him on. Your walls began to clench around him, telling him you were close. He smirked and gave your ass a hard slap. You moaned and looked back at him, lust filling your eyes.

“You close, baby?” He asks. You nod and give him a quiet whine as he kneaded your reddening ass. “Good. Are you going to be a good girl and cum all over my cock?” He tries to use his words to bring you closer to your climax, but it seems to be working on him as well - noticing his breath hitching and thrusts becoming more desperate. 

He tries to take control of his arousal, but as you finally reach your breaking point, he can’t help but you cum with you. You latch a hand to his forearm still around your waist and reach back to grab his other arm. His mouth spills your name in a breathy mix of moans and curses as he fills you with ropes of his cum.

You take a moment to catch your breath and turn around. You see him catching his own breath and wrapping his arms around you. He places a kiss on your forehead, you smiling at your lover. You watch as Marcus pulls up his pants and clicks his belt buckle closed. You go to grab your panties and are shocked, but not entirely, when Marcus grabs them and stuffs them in his pocket. 

“You’ll get these back at home, but i’m not done with you yet.” He gives you a deep kiss on your lips and leads you to the table littered with sample fabrics, scissors, and drawn up designs. He pushes the items to the opposite side of the table and helps up onto the surface. Marcus spreads your legs once more, sinks to his knees, and looks up through his dark eyelashes.

“I always clean up my messes, baby. You should know that by now,” and with that he goes to work. Your eyes roll back and your hands run through his hair, gripping it from the roots and giving it a tug. You feel pure ecstasy as you feel his hot tongue against your throbbing core. You speak a sinful moan as you hear him slurp the cocktail of both your pleasure-caused fluids. He uses his tongue to jackhammer into your sensitive core and you know you won’t be able to last long.

“M-Marcus. Baby… fuck. Yes, yes, yes.” You chant, legs beginning to shake and heart beginning to race. “Please don’t… fuckfuckfuck… don’t stop.” This only makes Marcus suck harder and lick faster. You wrap your legs around his neck and you tug his hair as you reach your climax.

Marcus gives one final suck as he gets back up. You grab him by the buckles on his chest and bring him closer. You pull his head down and give him a hazy kiss, being fucked out of your mind. As you pull back, you giggle when you see his beard have some of your shared juices. You reach up and wipe his beard. He grabs your hand and licks your wet palm, making you want him again.

He pulls your skirt down and smooths it out, making sure there’s no evidence of your activities. You give him a once over to make sure his new suit has no stains and no rips. You straighten yourselves out and as he turns in a circle to make sure everything is situated, you also really get to look at the new suit and decide you like it.

“Ya know… I’m actually quite fond of the new suit,” you say. “The buckles make you look more badass and the pants make your ass look great.”

“That’s what you said about the last suit. Are you sure it’s not just the buckles?” He smirks.

You shake your head and smile. “Nope. The buckles are a great addition, but it just looks better. It doesn’t look… cheap?”

His eyes widen and his mouth falls open. “Cheap?! The last suit made me look like I had abs, thank you very much.” 

“Yes, but this suit makes you look more menacing. Well… only if you don’t smile. Your smile makes you adorable.”

He hugs you and hides his face in your neck. “I’m not adorable. I’m a katana-wielding superhero turned director who saves the world.”

You laugh at his demeanor and nod. “Yes, my love. But you’re also a loving father and soon-to-be husband who would do anything for his family. Which makes you even better than a superhero.” 

“Like fucking my fiancée at a suit fitting?”

“Fucking your fiancée until she doesn’t know where she is anymore at a suit fitting,” you correct. You both share a laugh and freeze as you hear a knock and the door open and see Tilly walk in with a binder and a smile.

“I’m back! How do you like the suit? I see you both look tired! Did you get to test out its durability?” Tilly asks.

“Yes,” you both say.

“I like it alot. No rips and breathes great when in the hardest situations.” Marcus says. You look over at him as he looks back with a wide grin on his face.

“That’s fantastic news! If you’re happy with it, you can sign this,” she says as she hands Marcus a couple of pages from her binder. “This just states that you liked the suit and accept it as the new replacement. We can get it washed up and stored to be pulled out when necessary.” 

He skims through the pages he’s seen multiple times and signs it. He hands it back to Tilly with a smile.

“I’m very happy with it, Tilly.” He looks over at you who is looking over the papers he signed. “I believe we both are, isn’t that right sweetheart?”

You look at Marcus as he winks at you and you look back at Tilly. “Very happy. Great work, Tilly.”

Very happy, indeed.

taglist:

@mxndoscyarika​ @bitchin-beskar​

Hey, babe! @disgruntledspacedad here! So, for some reason my tags *and* messages are not working, but I wanted you to know that I finished that Marcus Moreno fic we’ve been talking about. It’s pinned to my page. Love you so much, and sorry for busting into your ask box like a creep. 😕🤣

GUYS GO READ IT AND GET YOUR MARCUS MORENO FIX

The Right Thing

an icon. a legend. a masterpiece.

fuck moff gideon. i love giancarlo esposito

Giancarlo Esposito © Harry Eelman // 1883 Magazine (2019)

thank you so much for reading and commenting 🥺❤️💜

hands | din djarin

gif from @thewayyoutasted

pairing: din djarin x reader

warning: 18+, not all that descriptive, but ya know: fingering? still working on writing smut.

a/n: i had to write a little thingy once i saw this gif. Im still not okay.

masterlist

You can’t look away. Every glance takes you back to the memories you cherish everyday.

You stare at your partner’s bare hands as he twirls one of his many blasters while the two of you wait until arriving at your next bounty.

“You just can’t stay still, can you Djarin.”

He catches his blaster and stops. His visor turns to you and you hear what sounds like a chuckle leave his helmet.

“You won’t let me play with you so I have to keep my hands busy.” He presses a combination of buttons on his vambrace and a hologram of the ship’s navigation pad appears. “We have two hours to go.”

Your brows furrow and you smirk at him. “I said you can’t play with me. I never said you couldn’t fuck me.”

Din lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. He abruptly stands and opens the armory - placing his blaster inside and slamming it shut. His action makes you jump and stand from your sitting position. As he takes a broad step forward, you take one step back until you hit the wall.

He encloses you between the wall and him and spins you around so your back hits his chest. He pins your hands behind your back with one hand and covers your eyes with the other.

“Are you going to be good today?” He asks you

You nod and take a deep breath. He tells you to close your eyes and face the wall. You comply and you feel your core tighten as you hear the distinctive hiss of his helmet unlatching. You hear his helmet hit the floor and his lips immediately latch onto your neck.

“Do you want to be fucked, cyar’ika?” You nod.

“You want me to take you from behind?” You nod once more.

He growls into your ear and you feel the blood rush to your face.

“I need to hear you say it. Tell me you want me to fuck you the way you like to be fucked.” He nibbles on your earlobe, smiling at the blush creeping on your face.

“D-Din. I need y- fuck. I need you to fuck me. P-Please.”

“Does watching me twirl my blaster around get you off? You like watching my hands, don’t you?”

You eagerly nod. “Yes. Yes, Din. I love watching your hands work. I love your fingers. Esp-Especially… fuck.”

You let out a moan when you feel Din let his bare hand slide into your pants and slide your intimates aside. He plays with you, but still not slipping inside.

“Especially what, cyare?” He smirks seeing you so vulnerable under his touch. The two of you started out as solo bounty hunters who decided to join forces after a tough bounty refused to get caught. You worked together more and more often and naturally, it blossomed to this. To you and Din ending up naked, out of breath, in each other's bed.

The two of you understood each other very well and knew what one another needed - space or pleasure.

“Especially when you finger me, Din.”

“You’re in for more than a fingering tonight. I’ve been very stressed as of late.”

“That makes two of us. N-Now… please stop playing and fuck me.”

You just remember being kissed on the temple and thrown over his shoulder. You were definitely in for a long night.

thank you so much! it’s a learning process, so that aspect of my writing will get better! 😂

thank you so much for reading and commenting! ❤️

hands | din djarin

gif from @thewayyoutasted

pairing: din djarin x reader

warning: 18+, not all that descriptive, but ya know: fingering? still working on writing smut.

a/n: i had to write a little thingy once i saw this gif. Im still not okay.

masterlist

You can’t look away. Every glance takes you back to the memories you cherish everyday.

You stare at your partner’s bare hands as he twirls one of his many blasters while the two of you wait until arriving at your next bounty.

“You just can’t stay still, can’t you Djarin.”

He catches his blaster and stops. His visor turns to you and you hear what sounds like a chuckle leave his helmet.

“You won’t let me play with you so I have to keep my hands busy.” He presses a combination of buttons on his vambrace and a hologram of the ship’s navigation pad appears. “We have two hours to go.”

Your brows furrow and you smirk at him. “I said you can’t play with me. I never said you couldn’t fuck me.”

Din lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. He abruptly stands and opens the armory - placing his blaster inside and slamming it shut. His action makes you jump and stand from your sitting position. As he takes a broad step forward, you take one step back until you hit the wall.

He encloses you between the wall and him and spins you around so your back hits his chest. He pins your hands behind your back with one hand and covers your eyes with the other.

“Are you going to be good today?” He asks you

You nod and take a deep breath. He tells you to close your eyes and face the wall. You comply and you feel your core tighten as you hear the distinctive hiss of his helmet unlatching. You hear his helmet hit the floor and his lips immediately latch onto your neck.

“Do you want to be fucked, cyar’ika?” You nod.

“You want me to take you from behind?” You nod once more.

He growls into your ear and you feel the blood rush to your face.

“I need to hear you say it. Tell me you want me to fuck you the way you like to be fucked.” He nibbles on your earlobe, smiling at the blush creeping on your face.

“D-Din. I need y- fuck. I need you to fuck me. P-Please.”

“Does watching me twirl my blaster around get you off? You like watching my hands, don’t you?”

You eagerly nod. “Yes. Yes, Din. I love watching your hands work. I love your fingers. Esp-Especially… fuck.”

You let out a moan when you feel Din let his bare hand slide into your pants and slide your intimates aside. He plays with you, but still not slipping inside.

“Especially what, cyare?” He smirks seeing you so vulnerable under his touch. The two of you started out as solo bounty hunters who decided to join forces after a tough bounty refused to get caught. You worked together more and more often and naturally, it blossomed to this. To you and Din ending up naked, out of breath, in each other's bed.

The two of you understood each other very well and knew what one another needed - space or pleasure.

“Especially when you finger me, Din.”

“You’re in for more than a fingering tonight. I’ve been very stressed as of late.”

“That makes two of us. N-Now… please stop playing and fuck me.”

You just remember being kissed on the temple and thrown over his shoulder. You were definitely in for a long night.