Y'all

first person fic: I-

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

second person fic: 

YOU

me: oh shit maybe i did do that

if you’re white and you act like race issues are just “unnecessary drama” or “discourse” then sorry to tell you but you’re just…. racist

Reblog if you're gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, asexual, transgender or a supporter.

This should be reblogged by everyone. Even if you’re straight, you should be a supporter.

i wanted to tell you - oneshot

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader Rating: M Summary: When Din finds himself back on Tatooine, he strikes a deal with you. As he works through his grief and his anxieties, he never expects that he’d fall in love — or that you’d feel the same way. Word count: 8,305 Notes: The title refers to a few things in this story. I kind of glossed over what happens once Jabba’s palace becomes Boba’s palace because I think The Book of Boba Fett will cover that a lot better than anything I could come up with. This also ended up being a lot more than I set out for it to be. Originally it was going to be just shy Din with a crush on the reader, but it turned into an exploration of what might happen after The Rescue. There’s grief and uncertainty and soft, sweet Din Djarin at the centre of it. Reblogs appreciated! Warnings: Grief/mourning, implied death, canon-typical violence, mutual pining, older man/younger woman (not a massive age difference, but still there), non-explicit sexual content.

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High As The Stars

I do not own the GIF.

Word Count: 1239

This hasn't been the first time Din has returned with more wounds than you could count. With each lucky bounty that took less than one day stacked up the slow amount of karma waiting for Din the next time. And here you were, hovering over the Mandalorian as he bled out.

"Hey! Just keep your eyes open. Squeeze my hand."

You shout, one hand busily tearing the beskar from his torso as the other was faintly gripped in his bloody leather hand.

"C-Cyare."

You press a small kiss against the helmet, pulling out antiseptic wipes to clean the heavy gashes. You grimaced at his moan of pain, his grip becoming unbearable as you cleaned sand and other bits from the nasty wounds.

"Don't speak. Just... stay with me Din." He began to wrestle against you.

"Kriffing stop moving!" Din stills, his grasp a butterfly's touch on your hand as you pull it back. You needed both hands to administer the bacta shots. Another grunt followed the injection of the syringe, and you sighed in relief as you slowly watched the major wounds close together. Disposing of several wipes and bloodied rags, you turn back to face Din, who's out cold on the floor.

"What would you do without me." You muttered before completely striping him of his armour and weapons. It was a terrible idea to drag him up the ramp of the Razor Crest when he had stumbled outside, and you doubted you could do it again.

With what little strength you had, you pressed him against a makeshift bed. Soft blankets and pillows surrounded him as you tucked him in. He would need all his energy back once he woke up, no doubt wanting to jump straight back to Nevarro to collect the credits.

You sat by his side, smiling softly as you grasped his hand. At least he had come back to you in one piece. He was lucky that he had made it to the Crest, or you would've had no idea where he was.

A soft mumble escaped the modulator as Din slowly sat up, his body swaying from the sudden motion.

"Hey. Take it easy." You mutter, letting him lean his weight against your smaller form.

"How you feelin?" You ask, eyes shining with worry as Din blankly stared at you, his helmet tilting further to the side the longer he stared.

"You look fam-familiar." He slurred, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Mhm. I am your only other crewmate. Been together for around a year." There was a moment of silence before his usually stoic and sarcastic voice had shifted to something akin to a love sick puppy.

"You look so pr-pretty mesh'la." You lay him back down with ease, squeezing his hand that was clutched to your side as you laid it down beside him.

"Is that the bacta talkin to me Din?" You tease, watching as he struggles to take off his helmet. With gentle hands, you release the Mandalorian from his beskar prison. His eyes were hazy as he stared off into the distance before looking back at you.

"You should get some rest. Sleep here. I'll be right beside you." He shoves you away with what little strength he had left in his muscles, but even wounded and delirious, he was still strong enough to push you back.

"S-Stop. I have a riduuuur." He drew out the foreign word, and you peck another kiss to his cheek. His face scrunched up as he pouted, his eyes glistening.

"I won't cheat on my riduur. Even if you look as pretty as them." A wide grin splashes over your face as you brush his messy hair out of his face.

"You think I'm pretty?" Din groans, trying to roll onto his side so he didn't have to look at you. But after the fourth attempt he huffed before flopping down on the soft blankets.

"The-The prettiest." Din nodded, his eyes roaming the features of your face as it came in and out of focus.

"Come on Din, go back to sleep." It took a few moments for the words to register in his brain before he was moaning in protest.

"Got to see my cyar'ika." His protests were firm as you sighed.

"Fine. I'll get them. Wait here." He diligently nodded his head as you disappeared from view. You chuckle to yourself. Din had always been so shy to flirt with you, but here he was, diligently keeping his promise to be with you forever. You exit the weapon lockers and smile happily as Din's face morphs into a goofy smile.

"Verd'ika!" He exclaimed, seeming to gain his strength in the short period of time you had pretended to get yourself. You coo at him as he embraces you in a clumsy hug.

"I've missed you. You so... so good to me." Din began to slowly tear up, and you gently rubbed his back as he began to sob into your shoulder. Despite being vulnerable and high as an X-Wing in the clouds, he still had a possessive grip.

"Mi-Missed you. Haven't seen you in y-years!" His words were choked and lazily pronounced.

"Love you too Din. Glad you came back to me." Din's cries began to recede as he pressed harsh kisses against the side of your neck.

"Din!" You scold, pushing him back. He gives you the sweetest puppy eyes, chocolate brown swirling at you.

"Cyare..." You roll your eyes, helping the warrior to his feet.

"You can get all the lovin' once you get cleaned up and back to our bunk." His weight wasn't as harsh in the beginning, and you were able to help him stumble his way over towards the refresher attached to the shared bunk.

Deeply inhaling the soap bar, Din gives you the softest smile.

"Aloan roses." He identifies, and you give him a small pat on the back in praise. "Come on you tin head. Let's get you cleaned up." He didn't hesitate to strip down, bare as the day he was born. Din gave you a cocky smile,

"Like what you see?" "Yeah I do. But first get clean. So I can admire you better than under all those layers of sand."

It was a hassel getting him cleaned up. He was distracting and happily pressing your body into the stream of warm water, effectively soaking you to the bone. But you couldn't be too mad. His delighted expression was too sweet for you to be mad.

Finally getting the two of you in dry clothing, you snuggled up besides Din as he pressed against you.

"Love you mesh'la." You giggle, gently brushing your finger against the curve of his jaw.

"Love you too Din."

There was another moment of silence before... "You wanna hear a joke." You wack him on his side. He had done this before. When the two of you were crunched on time to rest before bounding straight into another fight. And it had both annoyed you and sent you into a fit of chuckles when he tried to break the ice. It was endearing how he had tried to cheer you up that night. You were really grumpy, and in your defense Din drank the rest of the caf that morning.

"Go to sleep Din." There was a huff of protest before he pressed his face against the smooth skin of your neck and inhaled.

Din smiled to himself as he fell asleep. You smelled like home. His home.

What happens once you kill yourself? Because I'm ready to go.

You wanna know what happens once you kill yourself? Your mother comes home from work and finds her baby dead and she screams and runs over to you and tries to get you to wake up but you won’t and she keeps screaming and shaking you and her tears are dripping onto your face and your dad hears all the screaming and runs into the room and he can’t even speak because the child that he loved and the child that he watched grow up is gone forever and finally your little sister runs into the room to see what all the fuss is about and she sees you dead. The person she looked up to and loved. The person she bragged about to  her friends, the person she wanted to be just like when she grew up, the person that made her feel safe. But she’s never really going to get to grow up and smile and laugh and love because she’ll always be consumed with this feeling of missing you. And now there’s something missing from your family and they can barely look at each other anymore because everything reminds them of you but you’re gone and hurts more than anything. and you think that your mom never cared because she was always busy and yelling at you to finish your homework and clean your room and forgot to say I love you sometimes but really, she loved you more than anything and she doesn’t leave the house anymore, she can’t even get out of bed and she’s getting thinner and thinner because it’s too hard to eat. Your father had to quit his job and he doesn’t sleep anymore, every time he closes his eyes he sees his baby dead, and the image never goes away no matter how much alcohol he drinks. And at school your best friend sees that your seat is empty and she gets this sick feeling in her stomach and that’s when she hears the announcement. You killed yourself. And suddenly she’s screaming and crying in the middle of class and no one even bothers comforting because they’re all  busy sitting there staring at your empty seat with tears dripping down their cheeks and all she wants is for you to hug her and tell her it’s gonna be okay like you always did, but this time, you’re not there to do it, everything is dark now that you’re gone and her grades are slipping, she barely goes to school anymore and she ended up in hospital after taking too many pills because she wanted to see you again. the girls who used to make fun of the way you dressed feel their throats get tight, they don’t talk to each other anymore, they don’t talk to anyone, they’re all in therapy trying so hard not to blame themselves but nothing works. and your teacher who always gave you a hard time stares blankly at the wall, she quits her job a few days later. And then your boyfriend hears the news and he can’t breathe, he still calls you a lot just to hear your voice and he talks to you on facebook but you never message him back, he can’t fall in love again because every girl he meets reminds him of you, he’s never going to get over you, he loved you and he cries himself to sleep every night, hating himself and slicing his skin because he couldn’t save you and he’s never going to hold you in his arms or hear you laugh again. Now everyone who knew you, whether they were a big part of your life or someone you passed in the hallway a few times a week, they carry this aching feeling around inside them because you’re gone, and they miss you, and they don’t know why you left but it must’ve been their fault and they should’ve stopped you and they should’ve told you they loved you more and that feeling is never going to go away. And so you killed yourself

but you killed everyone else around you too. 

A Little Faith

Request: hi! i read your Bi!Peggy with a LGBT!reader, and i remembered how much i love Peggy Carter, so if you feel up to it, can you do a Peggy x Bi!Fem!Reader where they are work colleagues and have a crush on each other? You’re writing is so uplifting and inspiring, and thank you!!

Note: I’ll be honest, my love for this woman just grows and grows… oh and for Jarvis too, let’s be real that man is a blessing xD Sooo, here’s a little fic based on a prompt by a lovely anon. I hope you guys enjoy and I’d be happy to know what you think of it! <3

Warnings: pretty sure there’s nothing

Pairing: peggy x bi!fem!reader

Words: 2.519

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“Y/N?”

You would recognize that voice anywhere, even if it weren’t for the British accent that was a dead give-away. A smile appeared on your face as you looked up from your project and spotted the agent at your door. Your grin transformed into a smirk when you saw the way Peggy was lurking in the doorway, a nearly sheepish smile on her lips, clearly just about to ask you for another favour that you were more than willing to grant her once again.

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First Look - Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x Fem!Reader Summary: It’s your wedding day and there are a few surprises in store for your husband-to-be, Frankie. Word count: 3k Rating: T Warnings: Fluff fest. Language. Benny doing Benny things. You and Frankie have a preschool-aged daughter. DILF Frankie deserves its own warning. No use of y/n. I know very little Spanish. A/N: Valentine’s Day on Morales Monday?! This calls for Frankie fluff! This started as a quick thought and somehow exploded (as my thoughts always do, apparently), and I hope you enjoy it. Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope this warms your heart and soul and has you yearning for our dear Frankie ❤️

Frankie is a nervous wreck, his heart pounding in a way that makes him fear it’ll rip through his chest and destroy his rental tuxedo. A culmination of all things led him right here, to this very moment – when he finally could see his beautiful bride. It’s been a long journey to get here. Frankie can easily navigate a helicopter through damn near any condition, under any amount of pressure – but navigating a relationship? That’s been a damn near impossible feat - one he couldn’t have done without you.

A bead of sweat falls down his forehead, but he pays no notice to it. He fidgets with the finger where the physical representation of your love will soon be placed while his mind runs a million miles a minute, thinking about what he'll say when he sees you; how beautiful you are, how excited he is to finally make you his wife. He’s also reminding himself to hold it together and not find a way to fuck up this moment, this day, because today is all about you, and for that reason alone, he wants everything to be perfect.

He doesn't understand why he’s so nervous. The two of you are already married in every respect except by law: you share a home, you share expenses, and you even share a daughter together. Most importantly, you share a deep love for one another. Even with all the struggles through the years – yours, his, both – your love has never faltered. You were there for him through the cocaine addiction, through the rehab, through the weeks you were home alone with a newborn worrying he was dead in some jungle in Colombia while on that stupid mission with Pope, and through the PTSD he experienced after he returned home. Your constant unwavering support amazes him, along with how fully capable you are to give him a swift kick him in the ass when he needs it – especially when he doesn’t realize he needs one.

What did I do to deserve you?

Dozens of memories of your relationship flood Frankie’s mind as he stands in the clearing of the forest. This place is special to you both, one that he introduced to you and brought you to countless times afterward - and one you brought him to when you knew he needed a breath of fresh air to help clear his mind. Many nights were spent here stargazing in the bed of his truck, flirting, giggling, and talking about the future. Not to mention the unmentionable things you’ve done in the privacy of the forest. It’s where your relationship grew – and was sometimes tested, considering the number of arguments and deep conversations you’ve also had here. Getting married here just made sense.

Frankie senses a figure approaching from behind, drawing him from his thoughts. He quickly changes his posture, but struggles to decide what to do with his hands. He settles on standing with them in front of him, his right hand clasping his left wrist. The photographer snaps away with her camera before pausing to offer instruction, but the words are muffled in his ears. All he can hear is his heartbeat, the pulsing seeming to build in intensity as the seconds tick by.

Finally, he feels a hand tap his shoulder and verbal permission to turn around to see his bride. Taking a deep breath, he turns around, and immediately locks onto a pair of piercing blue eyes.

Wait…those aren’t your eyes.

For a moment, Frankie questions whether he has somehow lost his mind somewhere in the chaos of the day. Had the heat finally gotten to him? He’s looking at a bride, but it sure as hell isn’t his bride. It’s not you. It’s not the warm smile that he’s accustomed to. Instead, it’s Benny Miller smiling brightly at him, wearing an old wedding gown and veil he picked up at the Goodwill when this plan was first formulated. His muscular arms look absolutely ridiculous in the strapless dress, his tattoo on his right shoulder on full display. A hint of chest hair peeks out of the loosely fitted sweetheart neckline.

Realizing what’s going on, Frankie doubles over in laughter, his hands on his knees to keep him from falling to the ground. Benny immediately follows, roaring as he throws his head back. Somewhere in the background, hidden amongst the trees, Will and Santi are howling with laughter, having held it in for so long while watching it all play out. Tears fill Frankie’s eyes, and when he finally is upright again, he flicks them away, feeling the stress of the day fly away with them.

As the laughter begins to die down, Benny grabs Frankie’s hands. Looking deeply in his eyes, he says breathlessly, “I love you. I love you, Francisco. Can I…Can I please make a baby with you?”

Frankie laughs one more, then pulls Benny into a hug, the two men enthusiastically patting one another on their backs as they embrace.

“Congratulations, man,” Benny bids, breaking from his charade long enough to express her feelings to one of his best friends. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, hermano…,” Frankie begins in sincerity. He pushes back to take a look at the man, then adds, “For whatever the fuck this is.”

Benny grabs Frankie’s face with his big hands and turns it to the side, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek, eliciting another big laugh from Frankie.

“Fuck you, pendejo,” Frankie jokes, lightly pushing him away.

“Don’t you love me anymore, Frankie, baby?” Benny teases. He pushes up on the bustline of the dress, which is hanging loosely from his lack of cleavage. Frankie pulls on the neckline, playfully looking down, causing the two other Delta members to whoop and holler in the background.

“Like what you see?” the blond man questions.

“You’re beautiful, baby!” Santi teasingly yells from across the way.

The photographer finally interjects. “Can we do a prom pose with the lovely bride?”

The two men immediately get into position, Frankie standing closely behind Benny, his hands wrapped around the younger man’s waist. Another laugh escapes Frankie’s lips, then he plants a kiss on Benny’s cheek, causing the man to chuckle as well.

“I can’t,” Benny wheezes, breaking away from Frankie. “I can feel your cock on my ass.”

“You know you like it,” Frankie jokes, slapping him on the ass before he’s out of reach.

“Oh!” Benny exclaims dramatically. “You dirty boy!”

“Get your ugly ass out of here,” Frankie commands in a playful tone, shooing him away. “And tell the other two to stop drinking until after the damn ceremony.”

"You can't tell us what to do, Morales," Will shouts.

“Fine! I’ll find someone who loves me for the way I am,” Benny responds, dramatically flipping the veil out of his face and over his shoulder before walking away

Frankie shakes his head, feigning disapproval while trying to contain his laughter, though the stupid grin on his face gives it away.

The photographer instructs him to return to his original position so they can move forward with the first look. He nods, moving to stand with his back toward the way you’d be coming from. Though he’s still anxious, he’s far less stressed than he was before. Gratitude overflows in his heart as he thinks about his friends and their willingness to do whatever it takes to ease tension. He is sure he chose the right people to stand next to him at the altar.

After patiently waiting for a couple minutes, the photographer finally says, “Alright. Turn around and take a look.”

Frankie’s confused at first, wondering why you hadn’t tapped his shoulder, as Benny had. He doesn’t question it though. Instead, he eagerly turns around. Once again, he doesn’t see you. In fact, he doesn’t immediately see anyone at all.

Hearing a little giggle, he drops his gaze and is met with a carbon copy of your eyes, though they don’t belong to you. Instead, they belong to your daughter, dressed in a flower girl dress, a flower crown on her head, dark curls flowing freely. She looks up at her father with a crooked smile.

“Hi, Daddy!” she exclaims.

“Mija!” Frankie cries, instantly dropping to her level, his arms outstretched for her. She happily runs to him.

“Hi, baby girl,” he says, holding her in a tight, warm embrace. He is in shock not just at the sight of her, but how beautifully she’s dressed, like a little lady. “You’re not who I was expecting!”

“Were you waiting for Mommy?” she questions, pulling back and standing with one of his arms still wrapped around her back.

“I was,” he responds, fussing with her dress, trying to fix where it had wrinkled. Then he adjusts the crooked crown on her head. “But I’m just as happy to see you.”

“Mommy’s so pretty!”

Frankie glows. He didn’t need his daughter’s word to know that you’re beautiful. “She’s always pretty.”

“But extra pretty today,” she emphasizes.

“Okay, mija,” he concedes. “I believe you, but I can’t wait to see for myself.”

Her little hands reach out and touch his jacket, feeling the fabric. She fiddles with one of the buttons. “Am I pretty, Daddy?” she questions.

The smile on Frankie’s face widens, revealing his dimple, watching while she examines his black tuxedo. “Beautiful.”

She looks up at him, then touches his freshly-groomed face, giggling as she feels the stubble on his jaw, which relaxes beneath her touch. “You’re pretty too.”

“Thanks, baby.”

“Do you wanna see my shoes?” she questions, backing away and lifting up her dress before he can even answer, showing off her heeled dress shoes.

“Oh, wow!” Frankie theatrically gasps. “They’re so shiny.”

“They make me taller!” She raises her hands in the air and jumps for emphasis.

“They sure do, mija,” he responds. He gazes at her, his eyes shining with pride. How did he have a hand in creating something so wonderful? He credits you, mostly, but he knows if you were here, you’d assure him that he’s had just as much of a hand in forming her.

His pride quickly turns into sorrow as he realizes that one day she will grow up and no longer need him. His eyes swell with tears, listening as she rambles on about her shoes and dress. He quickly wipes away the tears before they can fall, but it didn’t prevent her from noticing.

“Daddy, are you crying?” she asks, looking concerned.

“I’m happy, mija. These are happy tears,” he assures her. “Promise me you won’t grow up too fast, okay? I'm afraid I'll blink and you’ll be a big girl. Then I’ll be walking you down the aisle.”

She gasps in shock. “I’ll get married too?”

“One day,” he says with a nod. “If you want to.”

“Who will I marry, Daddy?”

Frankie hates when he doesn’t have answers to her questions, but he knows that there are some things that just can’t be answered. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t know.”

“I wanna marry you!”

Frankie chuckles. “No, baby girl. I’m sorry…but I’m marrying Mama, and some day, when you’re big, you’ll fall in love with someone and marry them.”

The little girl crosses her arms across her chest and huffs, stamping a foot on the ground. “If I can’t marry you then I don’t wanna marry anybody.”

Frankie chuckles. “I won’t argue with that.” He reaches up and grabs her small, soft hands, caressing them with his large, calloused ones. “That doesn’t mean you won’t have my heart forever, mija. I promise you that no day will pass where you don't feel my love. Okay?”

She nods. “Okay, Daddy.”

He offers his daughter a comforting smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He pulls her to him and she wraps her arms around his neck. Holding her tightly, he closes his eyes, savoring the moment, wishing he could keep her there forever, to keep her little forever, and to protect her from all the things he’d endured in life.

“Mommy!”

The sudden shriek surprises Frankie, especially because she yelled right into his ear. He winces as he lets go, allowing her to run to what made her so happy: you.

“Hi sweetie,” you greet, bending at your knees to meet her.

“Mommy, you look like a princess!” she says, looking at you in awe.

“Thank you, baby,” you say. “You do too.”

“I know! Daddy said I’m beautiful.”

You giggle. “He did, did he?”

She nods.

“Well, he’s right. Hey…” You quickly change the subject, knowing it’s time for her to go elsewhere while you get some private time with your future husband before the guests start to arrive. “I heard Uncle Benny is trying to sneak a piece of cake. You should go find him before he does.”

The girl audibly gasps, then turns and, after picking up her dress, runs off toward the large tent in the distance. “UNCLE BENNY!” she shouts. “NOOO! No cake!”

At first, you’re proud, thinking you sent her to stop Benny, knowing the little girl always wants to play police and catch bad guys in action. However, when she adds, “Not without me!” you start to question your decision. Those two are trouble together.

Oops.

Standing straight, watching the little girl run as fast as her little legs and heeled shoes can take her, you cannot help but laugh. She is perfect to you in every way; the perfect combination of you and Frankie.

Frankie…

You turn, a smile plastered on your face as you catch sight of him. He is still, standing with his feet glued to the ground, as if the mere sight of you had turned him to stone. Your heart leaps for joy the moment your eyes meet. He’s so handsome, and looking at you as if he had just seen the face of God.

What did I do to deserve him?

Biting your lower lip, you pick up your dress and slowly walk to him. He shakes his head, as if in disbelief that he’s seeing you. The moment you stop in front of him, he lets out a sob, then turns away and covers his mouth with a fist, trying to collect himself.

“Frankie, baby…,” you coo, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder.

He lets out a tearful laugh after hearing the pet name. “I wish I could say that’s the first time I’ve been called that today,” he snorts, putting his hands on his hips.

You chuckle, knowing what had transpired, having been in on the planning and watching it safely from afar. “Benny?”

“Benny,” he repeats, shaking his head once more. He inhales deeply and releases it, then finally turns to you. He looks at you with a warm glow in his eyes, tenderness radiating all over him. His eyes are dark and wet, but also warm and calming, like the cups of hot chocolate you've shared here so many times in the past.

“Dios mío…,” he mutters under his breath. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

You giggle nervously. “Not the first time you've said that.”

“You look…” He swallows and furrows his brow, trying to find the right word, but none of them seem good enough. “Incredible,” he finally gets out.

“Really?” you question, never able to easily accept the compliments he so often showers you with.

“Really. Let me look at you.” He extends his hand, which you accept, then he raises your arm and you give him a twirl, allowing him to see you from every angle. After your spin, he pulls you close to him. You let go of him and place both of your hands on his chest while his own fall to your hips.

“Preciosa,” he softly murmurs. Gorgeous.

You look up at him through your eyelashes. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

“Can I?” he questions.

You giggle once more, thinking he’s asking permission like some awkward teenage boy at a middle school dance. “It’s not against the rules to kiss me before the wedding. I mean, we’ve done far worse things here.”

The heat instantly rises in his cheeks. A chuckle escapes his lips as he looks down for a moment, before looking at you once more. “I just mean…I don’t want to ruin your makeup.”

“When has that ever been a problem?” you ask.

“You’re not a bride every day,” he insists.

“Frankie…,” you sigh, dramatically rolling your eyes. “Shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responds.

He immediately acquiesces, and as soon as your lips meet, everyone and everything melts away; it’s just the two of you. All you know is the kiss; all you feel is his lips pressing into yours.

You’re unsure how long your lips stay locked, but when you break, he lays his forehead against yours. The two of you stand there with your eyes closed, enjoying the presence of one another.

“It’s not too late if you want to back out,” Frankie jests, causing you to chuckle.

You open your eyes, looking up at him with all the love and adoration you can offer. “Sorry, Morales, but you’re stuck with me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. Want me to prove it?” you question.

His cocked eyebrow implies he is internally wondering what you are up to. He smiles coyly, then says, “Alright. Prove it.”

The lips of your mouth curl into a sly smile as you gently push yourself off him. He puts his hands on his hips as he watches you back a couple steps away from him. You then extend your hand to him and say, “I’ll marry you. Right now.”

He looks from your hand to the ground, a chuckle escaping his lips. After a moment, he looks up at you, a bright smile on his face, one that reaches all the way to his eyes, causing the skin around them to crinkle. It’s one you’ve seen several times before: when you first agreed to go on a date with him, when you accepted his proposal, when you told him he was going to be a father, and when your daughter entered the world months later. It was filled with love, radiating happiness from deep in his heart’s core, the glow of it warming your own body and soul.

Without hesitation, he reaches out and grabs your hand. “Alright. Let’s go get married.”