If You Receive This You Make Somebody Happy. Go And Send This To Ten Of Your Followers Who Make You Happy

If you receive this you make somebody happy. Go and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get it back even better 💗✨💗✨

(u make me v happy🥺)

ILYSM omg.

dreamboat | greaser!frankie | part three

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pairing: frankie morales x f!reader; greaser!frankie x f!reader

warnings: violence, mentions of racism towards latinos, cursing

dreamboat: part one | part two | part three

masterlist

Frankie has been in this cold and dark cement cell for what feels like months – it has been 19 hours. It was only 3 in the afternoon and would be in this cell until 5 when his mother got off work. He may have been 18 years old, but the sheriff did not care – especially being Frankie. Frankie would not stop pacing to and from one side of the 6-foot by 8-foot jail cell and the sheriff was getting quite annoyed.

“Frankie, ya want a metal cup to rattle against the bars or will ya quit bein’ dramatic? Stop pacin’ or you’ll make a hole through the cement, kid.” Frankie stops pacing and looks at the sheriff sitting at the desk situated in front of the holding cell. “Ya actin’ like ya goin’ to federal prison. Tu madre viene por ti a las cinco, hijo. Relajate.”

Your mother is coming for you at 5, son. Relax.

Frankie sits on the floor, putting his head in his hands. He lets out a sigh as he rubs his face. He looks back up at the smiling sheriff and raises an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

The sheriff takes a drink of his coffee and nods his head over at Frankie. “You are kid. Ya only got in a fight; ya didn’t hold up a bank.” He reaches in his desk’s cabinet and pulls out a silver flask. He pours a generous amount of a golden liquid in his coffee and goes to close the flask. He tuts as he looks back at the steaming black liquid and pours some more whiskey. This causes Frankie to laugh at the sheriff he came to know and like. The sheriff stands and walks over to Frankie, his mug of coffee in one hand and dragging his chair with the other. He places the chair in front of Frankie’s cell and takes a seat. He takes a swig of his coffee and looks at Frankie.

“I hope ya know your mom is goin’ to have a cow when I tell her why you’re in here.”

Frankie smirks and nods. “Ya ain’t tell her, yet?”

“What? That ya gave Oberyn a beatin’ ‘cause he was givin’ ya shit? Hell, that little bastard deserved it. If I don’t tell ya mom, you will.”

“Yeah? Well he was cruisin’ for a bruisin’. He should’a seen it comin’. Next time I see that cat, he’s gettin’ more than a couple’a shiners,” Frankie huffed. All he was able to give Oberyn was a good black eye and a couple of other bruises. The sheriff got called the second the boys went outside. He knew Rosie must have called the sheriff, but Frankie couldn’t be mad. The boys promised Rosie that there would be no confrontations in front of the diner – they did not do that last night. “Why I gotta tell my mom for? Aint you the sheriff? Shouldn’t ya be the one to tell ‘er why I’m in the can?”

The sheriff takes a deep breath and sighs. “Frankie, listen to me.” Frankie scoffs and rolls his eyes, waiting for the sheriff’s spiel about being responsible for his mother’s sake.

The sheriff sits straight and places his mug on the floor. He clears his throat and speaks to Frankie in the tone Frankie knows to shut up and listen. “Francisco, you listen here you little shit. You been in this very cell three times now, Tom having the record of 38, and ya feel like what? Ya feel like ya cool or somethin’? Ya mom already don’t like the friends ya hang with, except for Santiago. Ya think she likes seein’ you behind these,” the sheriff bangs on the metal bars for emphasis, “bars here? Now, I ain’t ya daddy, son. Nobody will ever compare to the man ya father was, but I know good and damn well he wouldn’t wanna see his only kid behind these bars. That man fought too fuckin’ hard for you and ya momma for you to be fuckin’ up ya life.”

Frankie stands up and leans against the cell, holding a metal bar in each hand. “’The fuck ya on about? You said it ya’self! I just got in’a fight. How’s that fuckin’ up my life?”

The sheriff stands up and gets close to Frankie. “Watch ya tone with me, boy. I ain’t one of your little friends to be gettin’ an attitude with, got it? You know that little betty you had ‘round ya arm? Her momma don’t like ya. Her momma got her head way up her ass, she don’t like anyone whose shoes aren’t new every day.”

Frankie chuckles at this.

“Hell she don’t even like me very much and I’m the law. Ya think she wants her daughter ridin’ round town with ya? Ya like her right? The more you get behind these bars, the further you get from her, you got it?”

Frankie nods as he walks away from the sheriff and sits on the concrete bench with a slump. The sheriff lets out a sigh and drags his chair back to the desk, taking a big gulp of his coffee. He grabs his newspaper and flicks it to straighten it out. He looks at Frankie and frowns. He decides to give Frankie one last piece of advice – something he promised himself he’d never use but he knew the young man needed to hear it.

“Francisco,” he says to catch Frankie’s attention. He continues even if Frankie doesn’t look at him, he knows he’s listening. “Tu padre murió por ti. El murió para que tu vivieras la vida que deseabas. Yo sé que este estilo de vida no es para ti y si lo eliges, entonces tu padre murió por nada.”

Frankie’s head snaps up and watches as the sheriff stands and walks out for a smoke. Frankie knew the sheriff wanted to leave the room for air because he would always smoke inside. From this moment to a quarter after 5, Frankie remained silent and still as he pondered on what the sheriff had said to him.

Your father died for you. He died so you could live the life you wanted. I know this lifestyle is not for you and if you choose it, then your father died for nothing.

As much as he wanted to cry and fight the sheriff, Frankie knew that the sheriff spoke only truth. Frankie’s father would have been incredibly disappointed, which only hurts Frankie the more he thought of it. The sheriff said that his father died for him and it’s true. If his father would have put Frankie’s name on that sign up, Frankie would have been dead by now. Instead of drafting 18-year old’s as stated, the US became desperate and sent off 16-year old’s with the promise of compensation for their families – that didn’t ever happen.

Frankie heard rapid heels clicking coming from the corridor and he knew it was his mother.

“Francisco Morales! ¿En qué pendejada te metiste ahora? Fue por ese Thomas, verdad? Ni se te ocurra mentirme.”

Francisco Morales! What bullshit did you get into this time? It was because of that Thomas, right? Do not even think about lying to me.

“Hi Mom.” Frankie sadly says. His mother holds up one finger at Frankie and turns to the sheriff. She offers him a tired smile and a quick hug.

“Ahora que hizo, Javier? Por favor dime que me lo puedo llevar a casa.”

What did he do now, Javier? Please tell me I can take him home.

Frankie hears his mother say. She sounds as if she’s about to burst into tears, her voice pleading and shaky. Frankie immediately feels a wave of guilt wash over him. He saw his mother break apart when they lost his father and was thrown as being the sole breadwinner – he couldn’t put her through pain again.

“Yes, Monica, you can take him. He just had a run in with that Oberyn kid again.” Frankie’s mother lets her head fall back as she groans. She looks back at Frankie and shakes her head.

“How many times do I have to tell you to ignore that boy, Frankie? He isn’t worth getting into it with. Did Tom throw you into it? He can never fight his own battles and he threw Santiago in last time. Pope’s lucky Javier called me and not his mom - poor woman would have a heart attack.”

Frankie shakes his head. “No mom. I got myself in it.” Frankie looks at Javier, the sheriff, and Javier gives him an assuring nod. “The boys and I took the new girl in town out to Rosie’s and Oberyn decided to ruin the night as usual. He just got out the can so he was lookin’ for a fight I guess.”

His mother and Javier stride over to Frankie. Javier unlocks the cell, allowing Frankie to come out and hug his mother. His mother gives him a kiss on the cheek and holds his face in her hands.

“Francisco, I know you thought you were doing the right thing. Did Oberyn lay a hand on the girl?”

“If I hadn’t punched him, he probably would’ve.”

Monica, his mother, gives her son a warm smile. “If you got in here for defending someone because you thought it was the right thing to do, then okay. I suppose what done is done, but I never want to see you behind bars ever again. Tal vez tengas 18 años, pero todavia te doy una paliza, cabrón.” she jokes - well half-jokes.

You may be 18 years old, but I’ll still beat your ass, dumbass.

As Frankie and his mother collect his things and sign the necessary paperwork, Javier calls for Frankie’s attention. He simply tells him “remember our little talk, Frankie. I ain’t try’na see you behind those bars again.”

A little talk Frankie will always remember and think about every day.

Frankie knew he should be going to his fifth and sixth periods, but he had already missed the first four, so why they hell not miss. He wanted to because he wanted to see you after the fiasco, but he was nervous. You saw him fight, get arrested, and get dragged away by Javier. He saw your eyes widen and fill with fear when he spat out blood and get put into handcuffs.

“So ‘Fish… where’s that little dolly of yours? You two get it on yet?” Redfly says. “Oh wait… ya been in the can!” The Bandits all laugh and Santiago slaps his knee while Will wheezes at the thought of Frankie in jail. Frankie takes a drag of his cigarette, staring at his friends and offering an eye roll.

“Alright laugh it up. I made it out, didn’t I?”

“yeah,” Santiago starts, “that’s only cause Javi likes us. If it were Oberyn in there, Javi would’a still had his ass locked up.” Pope gives his best friend a slap on the shoulder paired with a laugh and a quick just kiddin’ buddy.

The bell rings and the sea of people wave into the hallways. The boys bid farewell to each other, Will and Frankie walking to their class together. Will was the first to spot you in the crowd of people. He saw you walk with a student you had all your classes with; Maxwell Lorenzano, or Max Lord as he liked to be called now. The Bandits knew him, they knew him very well.

Max was a soc kid who would hang out with the other popular socs, but in actuality, Max was another Latino kid whose family were more like the Bandits. Both of his parents were greasers, and they knew what it was like to work hard yet not have a lot. His father worked all the time as a mechanic and his mother was a stay-at-home mom. His dad was always working on a motorcycle that would become his son’s first ride, but then something in Max changed. His whole life, Max wore a leather jacket and slicked back hair, not caring what the world thought of him, but as the times went on, the bullying got worse.

Just like Frankie, Max’s family was not always welcomed, but his aunt’s family was. His aunt was a greaser too, but her husband was a complete socialite. His family created and owned an oil business which allowed them to want for nothing. When Max saw the acceptance his aunt had received from her in-laws, it was a flipped switch. He asked to work with his uncle to learn all about the business. His uncle was elated to find out his nephew wanted to leave the “delinquent” life and become a businessman. Max’s face was plastered on the company’s ads and the popular kids wanted to be friends with him. He was accepted as a soc and even though his parents were upset, Max wasn’t entirely honest at school.

Max still worked on his dad’s motorcycle project. He still had his leather jackets and wore them at private family gatherings. He still knew the slang and attitude. He was still loyal to the people who liked him for him.

Max and The Bandits looked after each other as brothers. Even though he was not officially a member, Max had his BANDITS leather jacket at home, hung and clean. In order to keep his soc image at school, Max and the boys pretended to hate each other. Max pretended to be disgusted with their way of life and would throw insults here and there when the other kids would.

When Max saw Will and Frankie coming their way, Will gave him a discreet nod and Max reciprocated.

“Look what the cat dragged in… a couple of worthless hoodlums.” Max said. He turns to you and says, “C’mon, you shouldn’t associate yourself with these… things.” You look up and meet Frankie’s beautiful eyes. He seemed as if he wanted to jump out and say something to you but couldn’t.

“Don’t get yourself twisted up, Lord. Your little petty pants will wrinkle,” Will snickers.

Max rolls his eyes at him. “Move out of our way, Miller. We’ll be late.”

Will laughs and moves out of the way and gestures for him to walk. “C’mon, Polo. Keep it movin’.”

As you walk past the boys, Will offers a quick hey and you answer with a smile. You walk away, but Frankie calls you by name, causing you to stop and take a breath. You ask Max to give you a minute, him checking his watch and agreeing. You walk up Frankie and look at him, silently asking him to continue.

“I… I- Hi. How are you?” Frankie sputters out. He mentally slaps his forehead and cursing at himself. Is that the best he can do?

“I’m doing fine, thanks.” you quietly say.

Frankie tries to put together a mix of words, but none of it is coherent. Will lets out a loud and obnoxious sigh and puts his arm around Frankie’s shoulders.

“Catfish here wanna know if you wanna hang with’im after school. How ‘bout it sweetheart? The guy just got out the can and in need of company.” You raise an eyebrow at Will.

In need of company?

Max lets out a sarcastic laugh and walks to you, grabbing your arm and pulling you away.

“Her mother would have her head if she were caught with you guys again. You already got her in trouble once; no need for it to happen again.”

You look back at Frankie, silently apologizing, but in the end, Max was right.

When you got home that night, Will assured you that nobody would talk about it. The next day, your mother came back furious and you were ultimately grounded for being seen with those boys. Your father was not too happy either, but was mainly concerned about your safety, which was a valid concern. Your mother demanded for you to never talk to Frankie or she would have to take action.

What action? You were not too sure.

No matter how hard Frankie tried to talk to you, Max would either pull you away saying he needed your help, or your teacher would ask him to quiet down. Frankie was not one to give up, but he also did not want to be a pain in your side. He felt as if the odds were against him, but he was going to get you to talk to him one way or another – at least a single hello in the hallway so he does not feel as if he messed up entirely.

It was now Wednesday, and The Bandits sat at one of the outside tables by the cafeteria. They “joked” with people, rough housed as usual, having a good day so far, but when the soc table kept staring, the boys didn’t feel so cheery.

“Fuck ya lookin’ at, soc? You got a starin’ problem?” Tom yells.

“You should get daddy’s money to check that out,” Benny continues. Frankie turns in his seat and looks at the group of the popular rich kids sitting at the opposite table from them. He lets out a sigh, letting it pour out of his nose, as he sees you sitting next to Max at that same table. When he gets a chance to really see you, he sees red.

Michael, the school’s top athlete, has his arm around you and you appear to be uncomfortable – something Frankie never wanted to do. You look around awkwardly as Michael stands up and confidently walks over to the boys, other soc boys in tow.

“Look here boys. A bunch of nothings thinking they’re something,” Michael says. The soc boys all laugh and Tom remains tall, chest puffed out.

“Ya better watch what ya sayin, Mikey. Wouldn’t want ya to get hurt.” Tom rebuttles.

Two of the boys behind Michael walk up to the Miller brothers, a bit shorter than the two but still reeking of false confidence.

“You three must be tired of carrying these two brown boys, huh? Always quiet and only get involved when they’re forced.”

Max walks over to Michael, you trailing behind him, and tells Michael to stop and to come back to the table. Michael refuses, asking Max if he is worried about him hurting his own kind. You gasp and get in front of Max, facing Michael.

“How dare you? You dare call Max a friend and still, you berate him and these boys,” you start, motioning to the Bandits, “because they aren’t “your kind?” I’ll have you know that these boys are some of the most intelligent people I have ever met, a lot smarter than you.”

“Is that so, sweetheart? You think these delinquents are worth getting in trouble?” To this, you give him a confused look. “You think your mom hasn’t gone around rambling about how her daughter was seen with the worst kids in town? These guys bring their parents shame. Well… except Francisco over there… he got his old man killed.”

Michael barely got his final word out before he was on the floor holding his bleeding jaw Santiago caused. Santiago grabbed his hand in pain; it was a while since he punched someone so suddenly like that. No matter the pain, he wasn’t about to let the spoilt rich kid get away with insulting his best friend and his best friend’s father.

You look over to Frankie, who is still sitting at the bench stone faced. How could he just sit there after Michael insulted him and his father? You go to walk to him but Max pulls you, walking away telling you that you’ll talk to him later.

“I’m taking you home after school, okay? Michael called a meeting after school and I told him I’ll be there when I get you home,” Max explained. He talked fast and seemingly out of breath. He knew something was going to go down – no one drops Michael like that without consequences.

“Why are you worried? Max, is something going to happen?” You ask. He looks around and explains to you what has happened when Michael wants revenge. From legal actions to physically hurting someone, Michael will stop at nothing to make himself look strong and important. Max just told you to be careful and to stay inside.

And something must have happened because Max came knocking down your door and asking your mother if it was okay if he took you around town. Your mother oddly was happy to agree and Max piled you in the car. He drove fast and parked inside a green home’s garage. For a second, you were terrified that Max was forced to bring you to Michael, but soon let out a breath of relief when you saw Will come into the garage and greet you.

“Alright, Maxie,” Will said. “What is so important and secretive that you called us all here and brought her along?” Frankie adjusted his hat, a baseball cap that suited him quiet well, and played with his hands.

“We have to hide Frankie’s car. Now.” Max stated rapidly.

Frankie’s head shot up and the boys all together threw questions as to why we had to temporarily get rid of Frankie’s car.

“Max. What are we hiding my dad’s car for?” Frankie asks. His voice is quiet and laced with worriedness.

Max takes a deep breath and apologetically looks straight into Frankie’s eyes.

“Michael’s planning on crushing your car.”

dreamboat taglist:

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

taglists and requests are open!

... now i understand @flightlessangelwings veracruz kink... i-

🥰

Pedro Pascal in Burn Notice - the Fall of Sam Axe

P3

oooh kinky

#for science

bonus:

you can’t just sit there and tell me i inspired you! thank you sm for reading and reblogging and leaving a comment and noticing the fic being there 😭💜

teamwork | jack “whiskey” daniels

pairing: jack “whiskey” daniels x reader

warnings: age gap, shootin + some gunsss, eggsy’s wink-a-roo

a/n: thank you so much @meshlamando for your help! i wanted to make sure whiskey gets a good debut, and you made it happen! a real yeehaw bitch there.

request by: @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

masterlist

“T-this isn’t - fuck - a very good time, Champ!” You grit into your earpiece. You bring your elbow back and jab it into a man’s stomach behind you and kick the other in the shin, bringing them both down. “Whiskey! Will you stop clowning around and come help me?” you yell.

Your partner, Jack or also known as Whiskey, decided it was a good idea to get the ladies in the pool area to safety and leave you to your own devices taking down 7 grown men. You find it quite hard to fight off these weaponed guys with your boss screaming in your ear.

“No can do, Brandy!” You roll your eyes as you throw a chair in the fifth man’s direction and shoot the man behind him. “I got three boys tryin’ to get in a tussle down here!”

“Champ wants us back in the office, Whisk! What happened to teamwork?”

You hear him grunt and a ‘bang’ in the distance. “What does he want us for?” You hear him let out a hah! and then another grunt. “This is teamwork! I’m the distraction! Hey partner I ain’t finished with you yet!”

You laugh at hearing him on the other end. Your partner tends to like teaching bad guys lessons and you’re sure this is probably one of them.

__________

You struggle holding in your stomach’s contents as you see Jack continuously flirt with the three young ladies who are easily twenty years younger than him. You see him leaning on the desk, twirling a redhead’s hair in his fingers while the other two giggle like school girls. You roll your eyes and let out a sigh.

You were also younger than Jack, but that didn’t stop you from harboring a crush for your cowboys partner. From the moment you were an official Stateman, he was the first to treat you as an equal and offered to be your partner and show you the ropes.

That was almost two years ago.

Champ’s assistant calls you in and you give her a warm smile that soon goes away when Whiskey tips his hat at her and looks back as he passes her. You give him a back handed smack on the chest and a glare. He motions a confused hand movement and mouths ‘what?’ You smirk and look back at the office girls, the girls who went back to their daily jobs.

“You do realize that those girls are just old enough to rent a car right?”

Whiskey shrugs and adjusts his tie. “Yeah, but that don’t I can’t have a little fun, do it?”

You widen your eyes and chuckle. “So you just flirt with anything that walks… for fun?”

“Mhm. Don’t you?”

You simply shake your head side to side, earning a dry chuckle from him.

“So ya flirt with the people ya actually like? People who ya wanna date?”

“Yes, Jack.”

He laughs a single laugh. “I wouldn’t put that on a cat’s ass.”

You shake your head with a laugh as you finally walk in the office, but soon come to a stop when your eyes meet a young man’s own. He stands and gives you a smile. Whiskey tenses behind you as he follows your eyes to this new man on the other side of the table.

“There’s my two favorite liquors!” You laugh at Champ’s old, but timeless joke. “I want you to meet someone!” He turns to the young man and motions to him. “This here is Eggsy. He’s a kingsman across the pond. Kid, this young charm is Agent Brandy. The newest but one of the best.”

Eggsy extends a hand to you, and as you shake his hand, he gives you a wink. A wink that makes you blush and makes your partner clear his throat loudly. You look back and see Jack stand behind his usual chair offering a two-finger salute to the kingsman. “That there,” Champ says, “is Agent Whiskey. These two make up the best team ya ever laid your thick-rimmed eyes on.”

Throughout the meeting, you and Eggsy exchange a series of quick glances and small smiles. As you go to steal yet another look at the Brit, Jack kicks the back part of your chair, causing you to quickly look back at him. He pretends he doesn’t notice and looks at you with a nod.

And that’s what he does… he pretends.

He pretends he didn’t kick you. He pretends he didn’t see you and this new guy look at each other with goo-goo ga-ga eyes. He pretends he didn’t see you give the brit the smile he knows to be your flirting smile. He pretends that throughout the past two years, he hasn’t been looking at you differently than ever. He pretends he never thought about the idea of having you by his side when he wakes up. He pretends he never caught feelings for his partner in crime.

“So that’s where Brandy comes in. Everyone got it?”

Yourself, Whiskey and Eggsy all turn your attention to Champ, the person your attention was supposed to be on in the first place. You had no idea what the plan even was, but on the hologram, you saw your name and Eggsy’s on the same game plan. Naturally, you agreed to the plan sharing a smile with the newcomer, but the celebration was interrupted by Whiskey standing up and disagreeing.

“Brandy ain’t going alone, Champ. They’ve been my partner for two years so for that reason, I’m comin’ with.”

“Daniels, I don’t need two of my agents out there. Brandy can take care of themselves.”

“Sir, with all due respect, but-“

“Whiskey. Brandy is going and they’re going alone. Do I make myself clear?”

You look at your partner’s defeated look and stand up. “Champ-“

“Brandy, I ain’t tryin’ to hear it. You and Eggsy leave tomorrow. Whiskey stays here. If it makes ya feel better, Whisk, you can have an earpiece linked to Brandy’s. Better?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, sir.”

________________

You hear a knock on your door as you’re ready to load up the jet. You knew the knock anywhere. The six-beat knock you’ve heard for two years.

“Come in, Jack.”

“Sweetheart, you ain’t goin’ alone.”

“Jack, you can trust me.”

“I know that, but it’s that Eggsy guy I don’t trust.”

You place your hands on your hips and cock your eyebrow. “And why not? He’s been nothing, but sweet.”

“That’s just the English talkin’! Why does a Kingsman need help from a Statesman?”

“Because we’re their American counterpart? We help eachother, Whisk!”

“Brandy, just 'cause trouble comes visiting... doesn't mean you have to offer it a place to sit down.” With that Jack gives you a tip of his hat and walks out. You’re left confused, but worried about your partner.

“What trouble are you talking about, Jack?” You say to yourself.

______________

“I don’t think your partner likes me very much, Agent Brandy.”

You take a sip from your glass, letting it go down before answering.

“Are you talking about Whiskey? He seems to be like that with anyone I’m asked to work with.”

Eggsy nods understandingly. “Seems to me like he’s jealous.”

“Of?”

“Everyone you’re asked to work with.” He laughs.

You smile and shrug. “He likes to be the only one who gets to bug me on missions. He can be annoying, but he has never let me down once.”

“Sounds like a great agent.”

“He is.” You say. You place your glass on the holder and stand. You wink at Eggsy and place a finger on your lips. “He’s a great agent and friend. He always likes to make sure I’m okay even if that means hiding in the bathroom.” You say as you quickly slide open the bathroom’s door.

Jack has his gun aimed, but quickly lowers it as he sees it’s you.

“I knew we had a stowaway.” You laugh out.

“I couldn’t just let my partner go to Germany alone. What kind of gentleman would I be?”

You grab Jack by his jacket and pull him out of the small bathroom and push him to sit down on an empty chair. You sit back on your own as you and Eggsy cross your arms over your chests.

“Do you really not trust me, Agent Whiskey? I’d never let a beautiful soul like Brandy get hurt,” Eggsy says.

“That beautiful soul is my partner. If I’m ever a goner, Brandy promised to be the one to deliver my last words.”

“Exactly. If you’re a goner. Not me.” You huff.

“I’m your partner, darlin’! I gotta return the favor, right?”

_________________

“Jack, will you stop? I think my outfit is fine!”

“You’re showin’ too much!”

“I’m not showing anything! That’s the only problem here”

Jack continuously tries to fix and adjust your outfit, making sure everything is covered - unfortunately.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just wanna make sure you're comfortable. Is that crime?”

You grab Whiskey’s hands, tearing them away from your outfit, and forcing him to look at you.

“Jack, it’ll be fine. I’m just going to get Eggsy into this party and my job’s done.”

Jack lets out a groan and throws his head back. “No, your job’s not done. You said you still have to stay in there and go into a room with this crime ring guy so you don’t raise any suspicion!”

“I've done it before, Jack! Why is it such a problem now?”

“There ain’t no problem” he sternly says.

“Yes, there is,” you groan out. “You’re so worked up about nothing. You were a tense mess in that office. What is it that you’re not telling me?”

Jack begins to pace around the room shaking his head. He removes his hat and chucks it on the table. You know there’s something is very bad when Jack carelessly throws his hat

“Jack! If you don’t tell me, I’ll call Champ right now and-“

His hands are suddenly cupping your cheeks. You look as Jack leans into you and droopily closes his eyes. His lips are on yours and his mustache tickles your nose. You’re in shock.

Your partner’s kissing you. The man you’ve had a crush on for what feels like decades is kissing you and you’re on such a high that you don’t kiss back. You’re scared that this may just be a daydream. You don’t want this moment to be a trick in your mind.

As he pulls away, you look at the sadness in his eyes. You’re a deer in the headlights as he shakes his head, apologizing for his actions.

“I’m so sorry. I- I just… Brandy, I just couldn’t take seeing someone actually woo you. I- I can’t lose my girl.” He rambles on and on, but is cut off by you.

You grab his face, as he did yours, and you kiss him. You kiss him and hold him tight, wishing this moment never were to end. He wraps his arms around you and deepens the kiss, mumbling please as he does so. You pull away with a final smack of the lips and smile.

“It’s about time you made a move, cowboy. Guess I really had to scare you to make you say somethin’ huh?”

“What are you on about now?”

“You really don’t know me, Jack!” You laugh out. “I don’t have to stay in a room with this guy! What am I? Crazy? I just have to help Eggsy get into this party through my contact! Then I get to have drinks on my own while Eggsy does the rest and only get involved if he messes up, which he might.”

“You’re bustin’ my balls, ain’t ya.”

“Nope. Since you’re here, we can have drinks all night until Eggsy’s done. If he messes up, that’s where our teamwork comes in.”

“So… you ain’t got your eye on this kid?”

“Well he’s attractive, yes. But I would’ve rather paired up with techie genius Ginger than work with a cowboy who can’t seem to focus on a mission when there’s people to flirt with around, if I didn’t like you.”

“I do not flirt with everyone.”

You scoff and smirk at the cowboy. “Would you like me to read out our ever-so-growing list of incidents?”

He places a chaste kiss on your forehead and you smile.

“No…”

thank you so much for reading. i love you sm i cannot even deal rn 😭❤️

dreamboat | greaser!frankie | part three

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pairing: frankie morales x f!reader; greaser!frankie x f!reader

warnings: violence, mentions of racism towards latinos, cursing

dreamboat: part one | part two | part three

masterlist

Frankie has been in this cold and dark cement cell for what feels like months – it has been 19 hours. It was only 3 in the afternoon and would be in this cell until 5 when his mother got off work. He may have been 18 years old, but the sheriff did not care – especially being Frankie. Frankie would not stop pacing to and from one side of the 6-foot by 8-foot jail cell and the sheriff was getting quite annoyed.

“Frankie, ya want a metal cup to rattle against the bars or will ya quit bein’ dramatic? Stop pacin’ or you’ll make a hole through the cement, kid.” Frankie stops pacing and looks at the sheriff sitting at the desk situated in front of the holding cell. “Ya actin’ like ya goin’ to federal prison. Tu madre viene por ti a las cinco, hijo. Relajate.”

Your mother is coming for you at 5, son. Relax.

Frankie sits on the floor, putting his head in his hands. He lets out a sigh as he rubs his face. He looks back up at the smiling sheriff and raises an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

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