#foxy grumbles

[foxgirlbutt]

Combination meltdown and panic attack from my wife sleeping on top of the blankets... I don't know WHY, but having the blankets in that arrangement was sensory hell. And then when combined with a nightmare for the brief period we were able to sleep just made us feel incredibly unsafe .

#foxy grumbles #hate being autistic sometimes

[1080p-emi]

I love working on music but man do I hate that I can't like watch stuff while I'm doing music work because a lot of videos have like, other music in and I get confused or it's too attention grabby and distracts me

#foxy grumbles

[glamrockfoxy-official]

Psst!!! Foxy!!! I dare you to press a button!!!

~Mouse

Aidrien took the arm ‘til he gets a manual. So yer cap’n has gotten his “arm privileges” taken away

#glamrock foxy #foxy answers #mouse anon #*grumpy grumbling*

[hxzelwallflower]

@kiddscove cont. x - - - - - - - - -

❝ Of course mon ami . ❞ They won't stay there forever , not with staff doing maintenance on him every morning . Even so she figures it's a good way to make up for the slower periods , when the other Glamrocks are taking stage and less people are wandering the establishment .

As long as her boss doesn't find out she's been goofing around , it's all harmless fun . Besides she would rather be here with Foxy today than Moon , and have to listen to parents screech about how "traumatized" their babies are over his voice .

❝ I'd say a nose ring would go nicely , but I don't think you'd be comfortable with that considering you already have one ring in your ear . ❞

#- ; IC #kiddscove #- ; Lipsmackers & skydancers ( FNAF verse ) #- ; Crying because she adores Foxy's little grumbling

[sadhours]

dirty laundry

billy hargrove x fem!reader

masterlist • requests open

cw: 18+ minors dni, established relationship, smut, public sex, swallowing c*m hehehe I missed billy

🧡🧡🧡🧡

it’s kind of fitting. after a weekend of partying, you had to do some laundry. so monday morning, 9 AM, you’re sitting in the laundromat beside your boyfriend. you’re hungover. billy smokes a Marlboro and the smell is making you nauseous. you’re nursing a sprite he’d bought you from the vending machine. he has a coke. you’re somewhat regretting not indulging in the breakfast beer billy offered you but the thought of the booze had made your stomach twist something wicked. the shitty speakers spill a tinny “dirty laundry” by don henley.

“this songs actually pretty badass,” billy mumbles around the butt of his smoke, tapping his scuffed motorcycle boots.

you frown, “i like don henley.”

your boyfriend laughs, it’s a loud bellow and you really wish you had that beer to dull the headache splitting your head. but you love his laugh.

“like him like you’d suck his dick or…?” he teases and you roll your eyes despite the way it pains you.

“no, not my type,” you grumble. “i like his music.”

there’s a liquor store two stores up. you keep rubbernecking out the window at it and your boyfriend picks up on it. he reaches over and squeezes your knee, “regretting not having a beer with me this morning?”

“a little,” you gripe, “the lights are too bright, your cigarette stinks and i’m so tired.”

billy leans close to you with a pout, eyebrows furrowed. he looks adorable, even though he’s condescending you. “want me to go get baby a shot and a beer?”

“would you?” you ask, all wide eyed in a silent beg you know gets him.

he smirks, leans forward and bites your nose. it pulls a giggle from you which is exactly what you need. “i’ll be back,” he grabs your face and squeezes it before pulling away and heading out the door, it chimes with his steps. you lean back and watch his ass saunter down the sidewalk in his too-tight Levi’s.

once he disappears into the liquor store, you bring your attention back to the washing machine. watching as your clothes spin in circles, which doesn’t do anything positive for the spinning happening in your gut so you look away quickly. billy’s hard to keep up with but you’ve never had so much fun in your life. and he’s so sweet, really, when he wants to be. you’d kind of saved him when you brought up him moving him after only a month of hooking up. you were shocked when he jumped at the opportunity but that was before you met neil. it makes sense now. your boyfriend is free to be himself, and you love every bit of him.

he’s quick in the liquor store, returning and hopping up on the row of unused washing machines opposite the chair you’re sitting in. he opens up the black plastic back and displays a little bottle of Jack Daniels.

“come get your hair of the dog, baby,” he says in a seductive voice, all low as he wiggles his eyebrows. you extend your hand and then his brows furrow, “I got you trained better than that. C’mere, girl.”

you exhale with a frustrated sigh but obey your sexy beyond belief boyfriend. standing up and taking the few short steps to situate yourself between his thighs.

“atta girl,” he purrs, opening the shooter and pressing it to your lips, “head back, foxy.”

you lean your head back, downing the shot in a quick three gulps. he hums, all satisfied as he watches. the whiskey isn’t sitting in your tummy the best but the way billy chases forward and licks a drip off your chin quells any sickness. he follows it with a filthy kiss, tongue dragging against yours as his right hand grabs the back of your head, knitting his fingers into the roots of your hair and tugs lightly. a helpless little whine escapes from your throat but billy swallows it, smiling into the dirty kiss. once he pulls away, he smirks, eyes darker than before.

“better?”

you nod, biting your lip as you look to him. billy retrieves the shooter he bought for himself and downs it easily, like it doesn’t make his stomach curl. then he hands you a tall can of beer, opens it for you before he does. you take an eager sip to get the bitterness of the whiskey off your tongue. billy chuckles, it’s deep and rattles his chest. he nudges his nose against yours, “i know that look.”

“s’your fault,” you mumble, cheeks hot as you admit, “‘cause you kissed me like that.”

billy hums, hooks his knuckle under your chin and tilts your head up a bit. “like this?” he whispers back before pressing his lips to yours hungrily. licks into your mouth like you’re not in public and has your spine tingling, thighs warm and cunt aching. you respond by kissing him back just as desperately, putting your beer down beside him before both your hands move to grip his white t-shirt. his mouth tastes like whiskey, cigarettes and Billy. You get lost in it, moaning pathetically as you make out like a couple of high school kids.

Then the dryer buzzes, loud and jarring. You pull away, groaning softly before strutting over to the machine. You open it, grabbing a cart and wheeling it over. You tug all the clothes into basket, reaching in deep and wiggling your ass because you can feel your boyfriends eyes on it. You don’t even realize he’s jumped off the washers and made his way behind you until he’s kicking the cart away and grabbing onto your hips.

“you missed something,” he tells you, all nonchalant.

“huh?” you peer inside the massive dryer but you don’t see anything. billy’s hips meet the fat of your ass, pushing your upper half deeper into the machine.

“it’s really in there,” he says, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your leggings. his other hand presses on the middle of your back, bending you over completely into the dryer. “almost there, you’re so close.”

you giggle, knowing exactly what you’re asshole of a boyfriend is doing. he pulls your leggings down to your thighs, moving his hand to rub your pussy through your underwear. you moan softly, still playing his game as you pretend to reach for the clothing he says in deep in there. billy’s impatient though, tugs your underwear down with your leggings. feels the slick collecting at your hole and hums, rubbing his fingers in circles at your entrance. his fingers are so thick, you can feel him stretching your hole just from the teasing. hangover suddenly forgotten, you’re spreading your legs and silently begging for him to slide inside you.

billy teases, “aw… keep reaching, baby… you’re almost there.”

his middle and ring finger slip inside your dripping cunt, the stretch delicious and intoxicating in their own right. he drags the pads of his fingers against your walls, pushing in and pulling out. your brains already fuzzy, eyes rolling back before your lids flutter shut. he laughs, soft and sultry as he fucks you with his fingers. out in the open. anyone can walk in here or hell, walk by and see your boyfriend bending you into the industrial dryer and fingering you senseless. the rush of it only make your cunt slicker.

he scissors his fingers, stretching your hole open wider as he smoothes his other hand over the expanse of your back.

“god, you’re so fucking wet,” billy exhales, his voice echoing slightly into the drum of the dryer. hits your ears something fierce. has you pushing your ass back at him. you moan out, nails dragging against the metal of the dryer as he finger fucks you open.

you don’t even hear the sound of his zipper or the shuffle of him pushing his jeans back. suddenly he’s pulling his fingers out and you feel the round, thick tip of his cock pushing at your pussy.

“fuck, billy,” you gasp, arching your back just slightly.

“atta girl,” he purrs, “so wet and desperate for my cock, yeah?”

“yeah— ah!” your response is hijacked by a moan, result of billy snapping his hips forward and completely sheathing his girthy cock in your fluttering hole.

he groans, a vibrating and sexy sound. let’s you know you feel so so so good for him. he doesn’t go slow, a hand on the small of your back and the other on your hip as he bullies his cock deep in your walls. billy always makes you feel like such a desperate slut. knows he can use and abuse your hole whenever and however. and how the fuck could you say no? the stretch is fucking unworldly. his cock is a goddamn masterpiece. crafted by the gods themselves to help please. if there ain’t nothing else to live for, billy’s cock is all you need.

once he’s inside you, you’re fucking gone. cockdrunk in a second. his hands move to knead at your ass as he pummels into you. rough and reckless. so billy. reality slips, you’re not even thinking about how the two of you are in a public place. fucking so filthy, so rough where there’s nowhere to hide. if you get caught, you get caught and you don’t fucking care. both so zoned in on getting off.

your hips slightly ache from where they bounce against the edge of the dryer but the sensation of Billy deep in your cunt dulls any pain. his cock pulsing as it drags in and out of your fluttering walls. you squeeze him, want him buried so deep and dirty.

“that’s it, slut,” he groans, voice deep as it bounces around the drum of the deeper, “taking my cock like a good girl.”

you whine back, not able to do much else. there’s no way you could form sensible thoughts. you ache to tell him how fucking good it feels but it’s useless, would fumble out of your mouth like word soup because billy fucks you stupid.

it’s a fucking joke when he moves his hand around your hip to rub at your clit. his goal is to get you to cum as quick as he can, because once those skilled fingers start strumming against your clit, your legs are shaking and your voice is uncontrollable in the moans bellowing from you.

“you gonna cum for me?” he chuckles, circles firm and quick against your clit, “so easy. such an easy slut for me, ain’t ya?”

“billy…” you cry in a plea, a whiny and pathetic sound. you’re on the edge, you can see it. each little stroke of his fingers and each drag of his cock against your tight walls threatens to toss you over it.

“ya wanna cum?” he spits, fingers working faster, “cream all over my cock, be a good slut for daddy.”

that sends you. a deep breath and sinking over the edge you go, crying out in absolute ecstasy as his cock works you overtime. drags your orgasm out with his fingers not letting up. you’re dead weight after, billy’s hands moving to your hips to hold you up as he barrels his cock faster and faster into your sensitive cunt. he pulls back rather quickly, grabbing your hair and pulling you out of the dryer.

“on your knees,” he instructs and you obey, hands on his thighs to steady you as you stick your tongue out flat. eyes wide and needy as you gaze up at your boyfriend. a curl has fallen into the center of his forehead, blue eyes dark with lust as he fingers move to grip his cock, jerking it in quick and firm strokes. “that’s it, good girl, yeah…”

he busts, spilling cum into your eager tongue. you love the taste of billy’s cum. abnormally sweet for a guy whose diet consists of booze and red meat. and when billy cums, he doesn’t close his eyes. he stares down at you, his lips part and you can see the swell of his tongue against his lower lip as he moans. you swallow, licking your lips so you don’t miss any.

he reaches for the back of your hand, scratching at the back of your scalp as he smiles warmly down at you. after a beat of lovingly looking at each other, you both get dressed. you plant a sloppy kiss on his lips before moving to transfer the load from the washer into the dryer. billy sits on the chairs and lights up another cigarette.

“you’re something else, foxy,” he grins, cheeks flushed all pretty.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x y/n

[sea-lanterns]

LET'S GET MARRIED!

synopsis: (childhood AU!) various genshin women proposing to you as children

featuring: miko, hu tao, dehya, ningguang

rating: sfw (anyone can interact)

warnings: gn! child reader, genshin women as children, fluff, puppy love, love at first sight, mentions of death (hu tao), funerals (hu tao), bullying (dehya), violence (dehya), poverty, may be ooc since they are children, not proofread.

art credits: whisper me a love song

MIKO

As a young kitsune, Miko was unable to transform into her human form due to a lack of strength and natural willpower. So, it was common for the yokai to be seen wandering around the shrine as a small fox, eating little snacks given to her by the shrine maidens, and terrorizing tiny children like the menace she was.

You’ve heard stories of a pink fox roaming the Narukami Shrine, but you didn’t think much of it when you sat down at a nearby bench to enjoy your lunch. Pulling out a small packet of your favorite chips, you tore it open before hearing a slight, rustling sound coming from within the bushes.

Rustle rustle rustle. 

You looked up to see one of the bushes in front of you moving, the branches shaking wildly before something pink and fluffy tumbled out from below.

A pink, fluffy, fox.

Miko had stumbled out of the plant with her fur all messy and tousled with leaves. A small yip leaving her mouth, as she shook like a wet dog and growled. Oh no, you’ve heard of this fox before. This was the terror of the Narukami Shrine, the infamous child attacker of Inazuma, the one, the only:

Yae Miko.

She sneezed as leaves blew out of her fur, before twitching her nose at the smell of your food. Once she caught a whiff of what you had in your lap, her eyes narrowed and she started glaring at you. Damn, even as a child, Miko still had that intimidating glare that could put an archon in their place, intimidating you with just a scowl before strutting up to you with confidence.

“…Hello?” You timidly say, looking down at the fox with worry. “You’re…you’re the fox that attacks kids, right? Please don’t hurt me, I’m just trying to eat my lunch.”

She narrowed her eyes at you. Even though she couldn’t speak, it felt like she was degrading you. 

“…Uhm. Do you want some? I can give you some if you like.”

Her tummy grumbled at an embarrassing time, causing her to only flatten her ears.

“…Okay.” You timidly reached into your bag and pulled out a small chip. Hesitantly, you held it out to her and waited for her to crawl up to you. “I hope it’s not that salty. I know kitsune taste buds can be pretty sensitive, so it’s okay if you don’t like it—”

She lunged forward to sniff the chip before biting onto it and gnawing like a dog. Cronch cronch cronch. She had crumbs spill all over the floor, but she seemed pretty satisfied overall, looking up at you for more. “Oh! Do you want some more?” She nodded, her tail starting to wag. “I can give you more, then!”

You ended up sharing half your lunch with the kitsune. Throwing her whatever you found in your lunchbox, and watching her devour it on the floor of the shrine. After a while, she seemed to have taken a liking to you and jumped on the bench beside you to lie down, letting out a content, purring noise. After that little interaction, you started coming to the shrine more often to feed and hang out with the little fox. Weeks passing by of this little friendship, you didn’t think your routine would change until one, fateful, day.

As you climbed up the steps leading to your favorite spot, you saw not the fox you’ve grown so accustomed to, but a small, pink haired girl around your age. She was waiting patiently on the bench you always sat at, before her ear twitched, indicating that she noticed you. 

Turning around, she had those same lilac eyes as your little foxy friend, as  they glimmered in a way that felt so familiar to you the more you stared.

“Finally, you came!” The girl said exasperatedly, folding her arms and pouting at you. “I was waiting all day! You keep a girl hungry, you know.” 

“I— sorry?” You looked so confused when she ran up to you and grabbed your lunch. “Hey—!”

“So, what did you bring this time? Fried tofu for Friday? I hope so…”

“Hey! Those are for my fox friend!” You exclaimed, snatching your lunchbox back. “I don’t even know you!”

“Are you dumb? I am your fox friend!” The girl yelled back, tugging the lunchbox back. “It’s me, Yae Miko!”

“Miko?!” Your eyes widened and you took a step back. No way, how could this bratty and sassy child be Yae Miko? “No way…”

“Yes way! I was able to transform into my human form the other night. I’m strong enough now!” She grinned proudly and showed off her canine teeth. Although a bit bratty and too overconfident, you could tell it was actually her due to her unique markings and fluffy, pink, ears. “Now, hand over the tofu! I’ve been waiting all week for this!”

You pouted and handed her the takeout box with tofu inside. “…Fine.”

She grinned and looked at you smugly before taking the carton out of your hands. “Thank you…!” She began eating with the elegance of a toddler before pausing her chewing mid way. “By the way, since I can talk now, I’ve been wanting to ask you something.” 

“Huh?” You gasped when she suddenly jumped on top of you and looked at you with those curious eyes. 

“I’ve decided I want to marry you when we get older.”

“What?!”

She smiled at you before hugging you close. Wanting to feel you in a way that had your little heart beating. “You heard me, I want to marry you! That way, you’ll feed me yummy food forever!” She exclaimed, staring at you in a way you couldn’t refuse. “Please?”

“I— o-okay…” your tiny kid's heart didn’t have the guts to refuse, so the moment you said yes, Miko smiled and nuzzled you close. “Hurray! Now you can feed me fried tofu for the rest of our lives!”

If only you knew, she would marry you for reasons other than fried tofu…

HU TAO

Funerals were typically held on rainy days like in the movies, so why was yours held on such a bright and sunny day?

You stared at the coffin in front of you with regret, regret for not being with your grandmother more, as she passed away in her sleep due to old age. The funeral was directed by Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, which meant you had an untimely encounter with the director’s eccentric granddaughter.

She was so…strangely upbeat. Of course, she paid her respects to the dead, mourning in a way to convey her sadness. But she was still quite the spunky one and you couldn’t help but get irritated at how nonchalant she was. 

There she was, prancing around the funeral giving jolly orders like it was nothing. You knew it was a part of her job, but did she really have to be so happy about it? You were slightly annoyed and went to sit by the pond to take a breather, pulling at the itchy black clothes your parents made you wear, before feeling the tears well up in your eyes. 

“Grandma…” your tiny voice trembled, sniffing and wiping away your tears, trying your best not to cry in front of all your family members.

“Yoo-hoo? Does someone need a tissue?” You heard a voice call, gentle footsteps walking up from behind and dangling a napkin in front of your face. “Better wipe up that runny nose, your face is too cute to be all snotty!”

“Hu Tao…” you frowned, taking her offered napkin and looking away. “Please go away, I’m not in the mood to play right now…”

Her face softened at the sight of you trying to hide your tears. Shamelessly trying to wipe your runny nose while hiding the fact that you were crying. “Okay…I guess I’ll go…”

Before she could leave however, your hand instinctively reached out to grab her sleeve, tugging her back. “No wait, I…” you grimaced and stared down at the floor. “I’m sorry, please stay…” Even though you were still annoyed, you still wanted the comfort of another person. Even if that person was Hu Tao. 

“Oh? Ah, okay…” Hu Tao immediately sat down beside you and looked at you with worry. “…Your eyes are really puffy, you know.”

“I know.” You mumble tiredly, wiping your nose with your sleeve and staring at the water. “I haven’t cried like this in a while.”

“Understandable. I mean, your grandma pa—” she stopped herself from saying more before slowly hugging her knees. “Ah…sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You mutter, a deafening silence overcoming you two. “You’re just trying to help.”

Another awkward silence. Usually Hu Tao was more talkative when it came to the two of you, but right now she was quiet as she sat down beside you and picked at the grass. While the adults in the background talked amongst themselves, Hu Tao finally snapped out of it and reached a hand out for you to take.

“…Hug?” She asked softly, opening her arms like a baby bear cub. 

“…Hug.” You say quietly, moving over to hug her while trying your best not to sob all over her shoulder. “There there. No need to hold back.” Hu Tao says reassuringly, squeezing you tightly. “You can snot over my shirt if you want. I have others.”

“No, ew.” You chuckle through your sobs. “That’s disgusting.”

“Well, I don’t mind if it makes you feel better…” she murmurs against your ear. “I don’t like seeing you so upset.” 

“I don’t normally get so upset, sorry…”

“No, it’s okay. I just want to cheer you up.” 

She patted your back comfortingly, before placing her hat on top of your head. “You know, I wish we could hang out more often. You seem like a pretty cool kid.” She smiles brightly at you before pulling away from the hug. “I wanna be with you more! Not just at the funeral parlor.”

“Sniff, really?” You blinked your tears away and looked up at her. 

“Really.” She says with a smile, cupping your hands. “…Actually, I have an idea!”

She plucked a dandelion sprout from the ground and got down on one knee, holding out the flower to your face. “Let’s get married when we’re older! That way, I can cheer you up whenever we’re together!”

Your face flushed at the sudden proposal and you immediately panicked. “Ah, wait! Aren’t marriages a serious thing? Don’t you have to be in love for that to happen?”

“Pfft! Who cares? Marriages make people happy, so I wanna make you happy too…”

She slipped the dandelion between your ear and smiled, giving you a smile you would soon see walking down the altar…

DEHYA

You ran down the streets of your hometown, trying to avoid all the bullies chasing your tail and diving down random alleyways to lose them as quickly as possible. Unfortunately for you however, you found yourself at a dead end with nowhere else to go, a bunch of big kids getting ready to make you their next target, as they took the liberty of picking up rocks to throw at you.

“Ah, come on! Can’t you leave me alone just this once?” You looked aggravated and fearful for your life, backing up against the hardened brick wall that led to your demise. “Don’t you get tired of picking on me all the time? Find something else to do!”

Your desperate pleas fell on deaf ears as they got ready to launch their rocks. You sighed and crouched down on the ground, trying to cover your head for the inevitable pain you were going to feel.

“Okay, just please make it quick…”

You squeezed your eyes shut and resisted the urge to cry, bracing yourself for the impact that…strangely never came? 

Instead, you heard the loud yells of a rugged and tomboyish girl, the sounds of kids screaming in fear, before footsteps sprinted away from you. The sounds slowly grew quieter and quieter, leaving you to open your eyes and see a pretty, short-haired girl standing in front of you.

“They’re gone now, I chased them away for you.” Was all she said before extending her hand out. “Are you okay? Did they hit you or anything?”

Your cheeks flushed hot at the sight of her trying to help you, as the girl was very pretty and the way she was staring at you with those piercing blue eyes made your heart leap with relief. What was this feeling? Could it be? Did you finally develop one of those things called crushes? 

You realized she was still staring at you and shook your head no.

“Ah, no…they didn’t.” You slowly took her hand and stood up. “I’m okay, thanks.”

“You sure? Your knee looks pretty bad.”

You looked down to see what she was pointing at and sure enough, you had somehow scraped your knee during the chase. “Oh, I guess I didn’t notice…” you brushed off some sand that had gotten on it and winced. “Don’t worry, it’s just a scrape. It’ll heal.”

“Not if it gets infected.” She huffs, grabbing your hand with her own. Wow, even for a kid as young as you, she sure was strong. “Come on, I’ll take you back to my tent. My name’s Dehya by the way.” 

She tugs you down to follow her to her camp and makes you sit down, grabbing all the medical supplies her arms could carry before setting them down in front of you.

“Uhm, do you know how to use these? Only grownups should use alcohol.” You scrunched up your nose at the sight, causing Dehya to laugh beautifully. 

“Pfft, you’re thinking of the wrong kind of alcohol,” she grins, applying some on a piece of gauze. “That’s drinking alcohol, it’s the kind that makes grownups all dizzy and say funny things. This is rubbing alcohol.”

She gently applies the gauze to your scrape and watches you hiss in pain. The moment she sees tears well up in your eyes though, she immediately grabs your hand.

“Ah—! I’m sorry, but this has to be done! My dad told me you have to disinfect wounds so you don’t get germs on it!” She squeezed your hand in comfort, helping you push through the pain before setting the gauze down to begin bandaging you. “I know it hurts, but adults go through scary injuries all the time and have to go through the same thing. You can be brave for me, right?”

She looks up at you with those piercing blue eyes and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

“Hah! That’s the spirit!” She smiles and finishes wrapping up your knee. “There, all done! Can you walk?”

You shakily got up on wobbly knees before almost falling backwards, if not for Dehya instinctively catching you. “…Huh. Seems like you need a bit more recovery.”

She helps you sit back down before frowning after a few moments. “Actually, I have to ask, how long have you been bullied by those bigger kids?”

“Ah, for a little while…” you mumble in response, hiding your face in shame. “It’s okay, they’ll get bored of me eventually.”

“Eventually?” Dehya’s face furrowed with anger. “No! I’m not gonna let them keep bullying you! You deserve better!” She huffs and grabs your hand, before dramatically getting down on one knee. “I’m going to protect you till the end of time. My dad said that you should always protect those who can’t protect themselves, so I’m doing that for you!”

“But—”

She looked at you with such fiery determination and you shut up immediately.

“No buts. I’ve decided I’m going to stick with you for as long as I can.” She smiled and held your hands, leaning in close with a grin. “Perhaps we’ll even get married…”

Your eyes widened at the idea. Married to Dehya? I mean, it’s not like you were opposed to it…

“Married? Oh, uh, alright….” Dehya smiled and patted your head.

“Good. I’ll make sure you’re safe as long as you’re with me.”

She bows down to you like a knight would before taking your hand and kissing it. 

“That’s what a good wife does after all…”

NINGGUANG

Due to living in poverty, little tiny Ningguang had to make a living by selling seashells on the beach. She didn’t have time to play with the other kids, or go eat lunch with them by the pier, so she ended up not having a lot of friends to talk to, due to her poor upbringing and determination for money.

She would’ve ended up alone if not for you, a humble, yet curious child who took interest in what Ningguang wanted to sell. They were mostly handmade wares and shells she found lying on the beach, so there wasn’t really anything of high value. Despite that however, you were intrigued, and moved a little closer to take a look at what Ningguang had to offer.

She noticed you, standing up abruptly to present whatever she thought would interest you. “You seem rather enveloped by my jewelry,” Ningguang says, lifting up one of the trays of rings. “They’re all handcrafted and personally made by me. The pearls you see are freshly harvested from oysters found by the Liyue docks.”

She looked proud of her little business spiel and gently took your hand into hers. “Would you like to try one? I can help you find your ring size.”

Despite her living in rags and dirt, you couldn’t help but find her beautiful as she looked up at you with gemstone-brimmed eyes. Blinking up at you in a beautiful shade of scarlet, as her warm smile brought you newfound feelings you’ve never felt before. What were those feelings you may ask? Perhaps something akin to fascination, or perhaps…a small crush? 

Nevertheless, you knew this girl was beautiful, and wanted to get to know her better. After browsing around her selection of wares for you to purchase from, your eyes landed on a particular set of jewelry. “Are these a set? They both match…” you ask with curiosity, picking up one of the rings.

“Yes, I made those two in mind for a couple who happened to be walking by.” She picks up the second one in the pair and holds it out to you. “They are matching rings and can symbolize anything. Romance, friendship, familial bond…”

She smiles at you and gently slips one of the pairs onto your finger. “Here, it seems to fit onto you perfectly. Do you like it?” 

You did. It was absolutely beautiful and you admired the glittering pearl like it was the second prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. (The first one being Ningguang)

“It’s beautiful. But…” your eyes moved down to the matching pair in the set. “I don’t have anyone to match with…”

Ningguang raised a brow at this. Well, you could always buy another ring, so it’s not like this was a big deal.

“Oh? That’s a shame. Then perhaps you could get something else? Or, even just take one of the pairs and leave the other.” She thought quite logically about the situation and didn’t seem bothered by your dilemma. After giving her suggestion, she was a bit confused as to why you looked so upset. “Uh…is something the matter?”

“We can’t just separate the pair!” You exclaim, your childishness shining through. “They’d get lonely knowing the other pair is somewhere else…”

“But they’re just…rings?” Ningguang looked confused as to what you were throwing a fuss about. “Rings don’t have feelings!”

“You don’t know that!” You shout back, holding one of the rings close to your chest. “It needs to know it matches with someone. Then it’ll fulfill its purpose in life…”

Poor Ningguang looked so confused at the whole ordeal before sighing in slight disbelief. Perhaps she was a bit too mature for her age to understand, but it seemed that splitting the rings apart was troubling you to a great degree. 

“Alright, I have an idea…” Ningguang murmurs, taking the second half of the pair and slipping it onto her finger. “You can keep that one, and I will keep this one. That way we will match.” 

Your eyes lit up at this solution. “So we can be…a bonded pair?” You ask quietly, looking at her with intrigue.

Dammit. Little Ningguang’s face blushed and she couldn’t help but grow flustered. “Yes, we can be a bonded pair…” she grumbles, ignoring the way you were starting to look cute. 

“Hurray!” You smile gleefully, slipping the ring on and handing you some mora. “Now we can pretend to be married! Like real couples!” 

She felt the blood rush to her face as she looked down at the matching ring in her hand, a spur of newfound feelings bubbling in her chest, as Ningguang had never felt this way before. 

From that day forward, Ningguang vowed to become the richest woman in Liyue. All for the sole purpose of potentially buying you a real ring to marry…

#yae miko x reader #miko x reader #hu tao x reader #dehya x reader #ningguang x reader #genshin x reader #genshin women x reader #genshin impact imagines

[joshlmbrt]

Dream On. (s. harrington x reader)

cw; jealous steve, some loser trying his HARDEST, eddie making fun of steve, not canon complaint, based in the 90s’, yes this is based on dream on by aerosmith, kissing against a pool table in front of ppl, use of y/n ONCE - i’m sorry, it was needed 😭.

song; dream on - aerosmith

an; yes!!! jealous steve! this is my first time writing anything remotely to anyone being jealous - so it might not be that good!!!

AERO, CHICAGO. 1992.

𖡡 STARDUST.

“Dustin was upset he couldn’t come,” Robin takes the drink Eddie slides over to her. She pulls the cherry out by the stem. “Had to study for a test. Well, Steve made him.”

“Hey!” Steve turns to look at the girl. “I know he’s smart, but I don’t want him to fail!”

“It’s okay, Stevie,” You lift your hand, pushing your fingers through his hair. “You just want what’s best for him.”

“See.” He points at you, nodding enthusiastically.

“Even if it means he can’t see his old pal.” You grin when you see his smile drop. Eddie chuckles and slides you the Miami Sunrise you ordered. “Thanks, Eds.”

He gives you a little wink. Steve narrows his eyes at him.

“And who are these lovely people?” A girl steps out from the back room. Her hair was teased to the Heavens and red lipstick perfected. Not a smudge in sight.

“Oh, these are my friends from Hawkins,” He introduces you all. “Guys, this is my lady, Foxy.” He wiggles his brows, tattooed arm slipping around her waist.

She gives a wave before pressing a kiss to his cheek, a small imprint of red being left behind. “See ya later. Steak?”

“And twice baked potatoes?”

“You got it, love.” She pinches at his chin. She walks off, red boots clicking as she goes.

“Marry me already!” He calls out. He was never afraid to make a scene when it came to the ones he loved deeply.

People around the bar looks towards him, brows lifted and some grumbling.

She laughs, slipping on the leather jacket and pulling her hair that was stuck from underneath. “Save up and buy me a ring and propose to me, then I’ll sleep on it.” She winks, pushing the doors open and walking out.

You turn to Eddie, brows lifting. “You gotta ‘lil something right here.” You tease, pointing to your cheek.

He looks away from the door, rolling his eyes. “Ha-ha. Funny.”

You laugh a bit, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Come on, Robs. I believe you challenged me to some pool.” You slip off the stool, walking towards the pool table.

Robin blinks a couple of times before looking between Steve and Eddie. Her eyes land on Steve. “Do you think she’ll beat me?” She whispers.

He snorts, bringing the beer bottle to his lips. “Oh, yeah. Good luck.”

She grumbles, slipping out of her own seat. “I don’t have fifty bucks, so slip me a couple of bills, please.”

Steve’s brows lift.

She holds out her hand. “Cough it up. You owe me anyway.”

He rolls his eyes, pulling his wallet out, pulling out fifty bucks and placing it into her hand. “If you win, give it back. I do not owe you fifty.”

She grins and folds the money, stuffing it into her pocket as she walks away. She pats his back.

“She won’t give it back, will she?”

“No.” Eddie smirks, grabbing another beer and cracking it open for Steve, placing it in front of him.

✯

An hour later, Stardust had become a little more crowded and a little more rowdy - not enough to make you all leave though.

You and Robin were still playing pool while Steve sat by himself, speaking to Eddie when he was free of customers.

“Uh… Steve,” Eddie had been peeking towards the pool tables that had a dim, dingy light above them. “I don’t want you to, like, freak out. But there’s a man who’s been at the pool table with Robin and Y/N. And I don’t think he’s interested in Robs.”

Steve’s brows pinch together and he turns to stare at the pool table.

The man in question was handsome - no doubt. Chiseled features, a tattoo sleeve with a couple of tattoos on his knuckles, brown hair with some blonde highlights.

“Does he come in here often?”

“Boy, does he? He’s in here every night flirting with anything that’s breathing and walking on two legs,” Eddie rolls his eyes, catching a hand at the end of the bar lift. “Hold on. I’ll be right bac-” He stops, watching as Steve makes his way over.

“-I’ll show you my favorite song.” And he even has good voice? Steve cannot win.

You peek up at him, lifting a brow. “What song would that be?” You tilt your head to the side. Robin notices Steve, making a face.

“Help.” She mouths.

He grins, turning and walking towards the jukebox in the corner. He slips in a quarter and picks Dream On.

Eddie groans internally when he hears the song - not that he dislikes it, but there is so many times you can play a song.

The man - Drew - steps back, pearly whites on show. Steve’s arm drapes over your shoulder. “Who’s this?” His voice cracks a bit.

Drew looks over at him, lifting a brow.

“Oh, this is Drew,” You point at him, shrugging. Steve’s eyes narrow at him. “Could you get me another drink?” You’re already staring at him with a smile.

He nods, pressing a kiss to your temple as he walks off. Robin goes with him. You curse her in your mind.

“So… I seen that you were having a bit of trouble.” Drew slowly walks towards you.

“With what?” You grab the chalk and rub it on the end of the stick.

“With pool,” You want to laugh in his face. “I could show you.”

“Sure,” Before he gets any closer, you slap the stick into his chest. He huffs. “Show me.”

He clears his throat. “Well, it’s kind of better to learn by actually showing you - if you know what I mean.”

You open your mouth to quickly retaliate. “Here’s that drink, babe.” Steve smiles.

“Thanks, honey.” You grab it from his hand, pressing a quick kiss to the side of his mouth.

Before you could fully pull away from Steve, his hand is grabbing the back of your head, pulling you closer and kissing you again. You squeak when your back hits the side of the pool table, the feeling of his hand traveling to the side of your neck.

He tasted faintly your mango chapstick he had stolen earlier, cherries he had snacked on, and beer, a weird but nice combination that. He grips at the side of your neck softly, his fingernails digging into your skin slightly, pulling away slowly.

He presses one last faint kiss to each corner of your mouth before pulling away fully and pushing your hair behind your ears.

He peeks over your shoulder and notices Drew was officially gone, making some ‘moves’ - if you could even call them that - on another poor girl.

You grin, wiping some gloss from his lip. “You’re so cute.”

He looks down at you, cheeks burning. “What?”

“You’re so cute when you’re jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous.” He denies quickly.

You lift your brows. “No? Well, then I’ll get Drew. I’m dying to know what he was-”

“No!” He grabs your arm. He knew you wasn’t actually going to talk to Drew again, but just the thought irked him.

You grin at him and grab your glass and Steve’s hand, making your way back to the bar. “Don’t worry, Stevie. You’re the only one for me.”

“You’re cheesy.”

“And gross,” Eddie makes a face. Steve looks at him, face burning with embarrassment when he realizes what he did. “I have to disinfect the pool table.”

for; @reidsbtch !!! i hope i did jealous!steve justice for u

steve tags; @officerrrfriendly, @lavendermunson, @keerygal, @queercodedcharacter, @halflifejess, @whisperingwillowxox, @alltoomay

thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, likes, feedback, & requests are encouraged, welcomed, & deeply appreciated!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #jealous!steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #joe keery x reader

[literallydontknowdontcare]

Don't Try Me

[FNAF Movie] Vanessa x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: angst (happy ending), smut (rough), annoyed top!Vanessa, bottom!femreader, established relationship, Vanessa wears a strap, Mike being scared of Foxy, Reader also being a security guard

a/n: this is my first time writing since years ago. Ignore the present/ past tense f ups, I can’t be bothered to fix it sorry </3 

w/c: 1663

---------------------------------------------------------

You should have known not to tease Vanessa. From your hand brushing against hers when Mike wasn’t looking, to you bending over to ‘help’ with building a fort Abby wanted for the animatronics, it was all too obvious for Vanessa not to notice. It just so happened to be that she was intentionally teasing you as well by avoiding your advances.

“I’ll get the sheets for the roof”, Vanessa says, rolling over and standing up from her current position underneath the fort. You looked between her walking away and Mike who was currently eyeing the Fox animatronic in fear. 

“I’ll help!”, you pipe up, deciding that saving Mike from killer robots wasn’t as good as possibly getting railed. As you walk in the dark room, you find Vanessa about to bend over to reach the sheets. “Need help officer?”, you practically purr in her ear, squeezing in-between Vanessa and the box shelves at the last second, making her grind against your ass. She sighs behind you, allowing her hand to drift down your back and onto your ass as you stand back up.

“You’re needy today”, she murmured, tilting your head upwards to meet her gaze. You pouted. “That’s what happens when you ignore your girlfriend and take the shifts where you know I’m free”, you say.

Vanessa rolled her eyes, stepping away from you and taking the sheets off your hands. “I don’t choose my shifts. You act as if I’d rather lock up drunken middle aged men then wake up in our bed”. She headed towards the door.

“Maybe those men would touch me more than you do”, you grumble in a soft tone so she can’t overhear. Unfortunately, your girlfriend was sharper than foxy’s hook, meaning she immediately whipped around and narrowed her eyes. “Would you like to repeat that?”, she said strictly. Knowing you were way out of line, you should have said nothing. But being deprived from any sort of sexual touch for a good week, you doubled down.

“I said”, you took a step forward, “Maybe the same drunken men you locked up tonight could find the time to touch me more often and better than you do”. Vanessas jaw clenched, her hand drifting down her stomach in an annoying attractive fashion to her radio, shutting off the person beginning to talk on the other line. For a good solid 10 seconds, it was completely silent. No annoying static of the police radio, no animatronics singing and dancing in the background, just you and your extremely pissed girlfriend in an almost pitch black room, listening to the sounds of each others rapid breathing.

Vanessa made the first move. She pushed you roughly against the shelves, her hands immediately reaching for your breasts underneath your shirt. You gasped out loud as she ripped open the buttons and pushed her face against the top of your breasts that threatened to spill out of your lace bra. She began sucking and biting the top of the soft flesh, distracting you from her hands that were now reaching to unclasp her belt and pull out something unexpected.

“Vanessa, I-“, you began, your head spinning from the quickness of it all. She removed herself from your breasts and began pinching your left nipple with one hand, the other hand still being mysteriously missing in the dark. 

“What, isn’t this what you wanted?”, you could almost see the grin emitting from her cockiness. “I hope you didn’t expect me to pepper your pretty princess pussy with kisses, did you?”, she teased. You whimper at her question, a knot starting to grow in your stomach. She stopped squeezing your nipple and quickly pulled down your shorts, slapping your panties harshly, making you jump. “Answer me”, she demanded.

But you couldn’t. With what little light was left in the room, you simply stared at her through your eyelashes, your breasts rising and falling as you plead with your eyes.

She noticed. “Not good enough, is it”, she sighed, “So disappointing”. You widen your eyes, not because of her disappointment, but because of her hand finally returning from wherever it went. *Holy shit*

In the dim light you could just barely make out a large mushroom tip strap. You looked back up at Vanessa, her hand softly stroking it, her lips now almost touching yours, and a look that made you think she was about to swallow you whole. 

“Panties down”, she said, one hand heading to rest on your throat whilst the other tapped on your thighs to spread them open. You blush, your senses heightened as all you could think, see, hear, touch and smell was Vanessa. You pried your purple laced panties off of you; to no ones surprise, they were soaked from your arousal, so they took a little effort to pry off. 

If you could sense a smirk, you definitely were sensing one from Vanessa right now. The initial touch from her strap was soft, almost caring. She gently rubbed it along your folds, smiling at the noises it made when in contact with your dripping entrance. She began to slowly push the tip in, before taking it back out and slapping it roughly against your already puffy clit. You jump with a loud cry before Vanessa’s hand slaps over your mouth. It’s quiet again for a few seconds as you both listen for anyone realising how long you guys were taking. The music from Freddy started. Good.

She turned back around and narrowed her eyes. “Always whining, aren’t you?”

“You ask a lot of questions”, you blurt.

With that, she roughly shoves the whole strap inside. Your breath hitched as you clasped your hands at the back of Vanessa’s neck, pulling her neck closer to your mouth as an attempt to stop yourself from making any loud noises. She thrusted the strap in and out rapidly, her hands grasping your hips and digging her fingers in so hard you knew purple bruises would emerge. Your pussy clenched harshly around the length, making it harder for Vanessa to move. You were gasping for air at this point, your legs faltering with every movement. Vanessa moved her thumb to your clit and pressed down hard, making you cry out. “Slo- slow down”, you manage to get out. Her pace slows, before realising she was still mad at you, and she picked up the pace again.

The shelves behind you began to rattle as her pace increased and you were clinging to her waist like your life depended on it. You couldn’t silence your moans anymore; it just felt too good. “Nessy, fuck, I need to-“, you were cut off as she shoved two fingers into your mouth. “Wait”, she barked. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your ability to think gone. Just as you thought you were about to lose it, she pulled out entirely before slamming back into your flooded pussy. Letting out a silent scream, you cum around her strap, scratching your nails down her clothed shirt. She let you ride out your high, slowing down her pace before pulling out to let you recover.

You flop your head beneath her neck, letting your breath get back to normal as Vanessa softly rubbed your back and hip bruises. She hadn’t really said much. She was the less talkative one of you two during sex; she preferred letting her body and facial expressions say what she needed to get across. But her not saying anything after was worrying you.

You lift up your head to her reaching for a towel on the shelf behind you. As she began to clean up your thighs and her hands, you decided to break the silence.

“Are we alright?”

Vanessa paused. “Hm?”

“Are we good? Are we okay? Is everything copacetic?”, you quote what she said to you when you first met.

The corner of her mouth twitched, though she threw the towel on the floor and began to fix her pants.

“I am trying, you know”, she says grimly. You tilt your head. “With the crime rate going up, and the shifts they are making me take, and.. all of ‘this”, she gestures to the door, referring to the animatronics, Mike and Abby. “Look, I’ll try and see if anyone can fill in for me. Alright?” She looked as if she were about to cry.

You wince. “Vanessa.. no”, you felt immensely guilty for making her angry just so you could have some attention.

“No?”

“I’m sorry”, you cup your hands around her face and she closes her eyes. “I know you’re exhausted. I shouldn’t have said what I said to make you act out. And even though I miss you, other people out there need someone like you. I can wait, I promise”, you lean in, gently kissing her cheek.

Vanessa swallows the lump in her throat. She hated crying. She hated this room. She hated what her father made her do. But she could never hate you.

“I love you. It’s just- I love you”, she says softly.

“I know”

She leans in to kiss you when all of a sudden: “VANESSA? Y/N? How’s it going with those sheets???”, Mikes voice rings from outside. In the distance, you could hear that the animatronics song had finished, and the stage was now playing disco music. Abby squealed with delight in the background.

“Yeah, Mike, we found em. Give us a second”, Vanessa called out.

You blushed as she helped you redress, fixing your hair and makeup so it looked like you didn’t go through a trainwreck. She smiled as you fixed her tie and picked up the sheets needed for the fort. As you dragged her to the door and opened it to find Mike squeezed in a corner, watching Foxy on the other side of the hallway with immense suspicion and fear, Vanessa made a mental note to remind her father that killing you wouldn’t be an option.

#fnaf vanessa x reader #vanessa shelly x reader #fnaf vanessa #vanessa shelly #vanny #fnaf mike #fnaf movie #five nights at freddys #vanessa monroe #fnaf x y/n

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Speaking in Tongues (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer translates a movie for you. Things get a little tense.

Request: reader getting hot and bothered when her and spencer are watching a movie with him translating whispering in her ear? A/N: Filth. Pure filth. Thank you to @foxy-eva for translating for me (and always encouraging me to write). Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Handjob, teasing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, semi-rough sex Word Count: 1k

MASTERLIST

When Spencer asked you to join him for casual German cinema, you had expected something innocent. Even after he’d explained that it was an attempt to become more “conversational” in German, you’d never considered how intimate it would become.

When the movie first begins, Spencer keeps a respectful distance. His couch has enough room for you two to sit without touching, but you make sure that you do; just an innocent brushing of thighs. He seems to savor the warmth, though, because Spencer is quick to inch closer.

At first, you are happy. You also lean into him, linking arms with him and holding onto his hand trapped in the middle.

You think you’ve made a smart decision.

Then the dialogue starts.

Spencer’s breath is hot against your ear. He speaks so quietly that you can barely hear him. Although, you wouldn’t have been able to focus even if he’d spoken at a regular volume. Your heart is beating too loudly to hear.

He’s still speaking English, right?

There is a lull between the characters. You try to steady your breathing.

Spencer remains focused on the screen.

The next time he speaks, you squeeze his hand tightly. He jumps but continues to whisper what might as well be sweet nothings into your ears.

The German subtitles blur on the screen. You let go of his hand and turn your palm to his thigh, instead. He jumps but continues to speak, albeit with a rougher, shakier whisper.

You begin to wonder where his limits lie.

The next time that a character speaks, you slide your hand several inches up his thigh. Spencer’s voice catches in his throat. He pants into your ear, yet still tries to translate.

It takes him longer, but he manages.

So, you continue. Between the lines, you inch your way closer to the steadily growing bulge straining against his pants.

Spencer whimpers when you creep your fingers around his length.

He misses a line.

“Keep going,” you whisper as you turn to him.

His pupils are blown and his face has turned the prettiest shade of peach.

“You first,” he challenges.

The still-existent wit earns him your obedience. You can see the simultaneous regret and relief as he realizes that things will only get… harder, as you continue.

Despite the difficulty, he continues to dutifully translate for you. Of course, he could be speaking gibberish and you would allow it. You would allow just about anything to continue your exploration.

Spencer’s voice cracks when you tug at the waistband of his sweats. He outright whines when you pull his aching erection free from their confines.

Then, he continues to translate. For approximately five seconds.

“Fuck,” he groans when your hand wraps around his dick.

You’re pretty sure that isn’t in the movie.

“Focus,” you whisper into his ear.

Then, to be cruel, you nip at his earlobe. You revel in the way it makes him shiver.

“I can’t,” he confesses.

“Try,” you coo, “do it for me.”

He tries. Even when your fingers start to move, he stutters out rough, broken English. You want to pay attention to the movie to better support his desire to learn, but the sweetness of his skin is more alluring than the screen.

You litter him with sloppy kisses while your fingers apply waves of pressure around his dick. By the time you begin lazy strokes, Spencer is already about to sob from the repressed passion.

He hasn’t even touched you, but he feels himself teetering on the edge of oblivion.

"Ich will dich ficken,” he absentmindedly grumbles.

“In English, Spencer,” you tease, failing to realize that he was long past with the teasing.

“I said I want to fuck you.”

Before you can even process what he’s said, he pulls you forward onto his lap. You scramble to compose yourself, but Spencer continues regardless.

His hands are ruthless in their pursuit, pushing under your skirt and forcing your underwear to the side without hesitation. His fingers are just as quick to slip inside you. They also find no hesitation. He groans with relief to find you already dripping with anticipation.

He’s waited long enough. His hand drops to his dick while the other helps position your hips. With one smooth movement, you drop onto his lap as your body accepts all of him.

Spencer wants to take his time, but he knows he won’t be able to last. His thrusts are staggered and rough. You grab hold of his shoulders to try to keep steady, but you find yourself slipping when he starts to move.

You grab his hair, instead. The force with which you do so is matched by the intensity of his hands digging into your hips. He holds you down, pushing himself even deeper into you until there is nowhere left to go.

He still wants more. He cranes his neck forward despite your death grip on his hair. He returns your torture with bruising kisses on your neck.

You cry out. You cling to him, holding his face against your chest and depriving him of everything but you.

He doesn’t protest. He kisses you more. He fucks you as hard as he can until he is gasping for air against your breast.

Then, the world goes quiet as everything left of his resolve shatters. Spencer buries his teeth in the sensitive skin beside your collarbone. His hands keep holding you down, even when your body starts to squirm. He forces himself all the way to the hilt as he comes.

The feeling of his release is like a balm for the pain. It is so warm, and he is so vulnerable, that you are almost happy that his hold is so brutal.

But when he lets go, panting and whimpering like he had been before, you realize that he is beautiful in every iteration.

Spencer is only gentle then. He holds you like something fragile, and you treat him just the same. You focus on the feeling of his hot, steady breath against damp and bruised skin.

“What wonderful sorrow it is to love,” Spencer whispers through the exhaustion.

Your face crinkles with confusion.

“What?” you ask.

“The movie,” he mumbles, "That's the line."

Once you realize, you laugh. He joins you. You both laugh at just how far from the plan you’d strayed.

In the background, the movie entertains itself.

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

Looking for more to read? Check out my Masterlist here!

Reid Taglist (Everything Reid): @mrs-dr-reid , @dreatine , @hopefulfangirl24 , @laurakirsten0502 , @dontcallmekittens , @rintheemolion , @andreasworlsboring101 , @imsuperawkward , @wentz2005 , @lovejules888 , @dashneydanger , @materialisthicc , @violetspoetic , @mslowlife 

Complete Taglist (All Works): @cynbx , @emsma11 , @mediocre-writer , @fightingdragonswithwho , @andiebeaword , @jayyeahthatsme 

Thanks for reading!

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut

[cloudrumble23]

Evan woke up gasping, his shirt plastered to his back and his hair stuck to his face. He rubbed the tears from his eyes quickly to focus on the clock. 5:48 a.m. An ominous feeling spread through his entire body, but he took comfort in reminding himself that nothing bad could happen while Fredbear was watching over him.

The fabric of his plushie was worn and stuffing was sticking out between some of his joints, but Evan couldn’t bear to part with him long enough for proper repairs to be done. Father always said it would take a few days to fix the plushie if he wanted it done properly, and Evan would never accept a poor repair job, so instead of giving up the bear for repairs, he just kept Fredbear as he slowly deteriorated more and more each day.

He didn’t feel too bad about it though; Michael had done the exact same thing to his Foxy plushie, and he’d had his toy much less time than Evan had. Evan swapped out the destroyed plushie with his own, but Michael hadn’t seemed to notice, even as the original plushie’s head fell off somewhere, making it impossible to repair the poor fox.

The vest was coming a bit loose, but Evan ignored that. Fredbear didn’t need the vest anyway. It wasn’t his identity any more than Foxy’s hat was, and besides, no one remembered that Foxy even normally came with a hat. He squeezed the small bear, humming softly to himself as he waited for 6 a.m. to arrive.

Evan walked cautiously down the hallway to the kitchen, his guard still up from his unpleasant night’s rest.

“You stink,” Elizabeth complained. She was already in the kitchen eating her cereal while Michael was pouring his own bowl.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Welcome to reality Lizzie. People sweat and have body odor.”

“You never stink in the morning,” she retorted as Evan set Fredbear on the counter before climbing on it to reach the cabinet.

“I put on deodorant. Ev, get off the counter. I can get that for you.” Michael grabbed another bowl from the cabinet and filled it with cereal as well. “I’ll get Evan some when I go to the store, okay?”

“You better,” Elizabeth grumbled into her cereal.

“Plus, it’ll be fine. He’s probably going to shower before we leave for school anyway.”

Elizabeth scowled at that. “But then I won’t have time to do my hair.”

“Then I’ll do it.” Michael rolled his eyes again. “You talk like you have a terrible life, Liz.”

“Maybe I do!” Elizabeth snapped, shoveling more cereal into her mouth.

“Good morning to you too,” Mother said, yawning as she walked into the kitchen. “Are we having cereal for breakfast today?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Michael said, grabbing Evan around the waist to drag him from his spot on the counter. “I was planning to go to the grocery store today to pick up a few things.”

“No nonsensical things we don’t need now, Michael. You know how your father hates that sort of thing.”

“Of course,” Michael’s voice sounded stiff, but he maintained his politeness. “Do you want some cereal as well?”

“That’d be lovely, darling.” She sat down beside Elizabeth. “You children are so wonderful.”

Evan felt himself finally starting to calm down. Today was a good day. Mother and Michael were both in a good mood, a rare occurrence, if he was being honest with himself. Elizabeth’s mood was always sour, depending on who she decided to blame for her problems, but she was manageable. He just hoped they didn’t see his Father before school. That was the one thing that could ruin the peaceful moods of his mother and brother before they left for school.

“Do you want to go to the store with me, Evan?” Michael said abruptly after they’d all finished eating. “So you know where to look for deodorant next time?”

“I guess so,” Evan replied quietly, hoping that was the right answer.

It must’ve been, because Michael smiled faintly and ruffled his hair. His expression faltered, and he made a face though. Michael wiped his hand on his pants. “You really need to shower before we leave though, Little Man. Lizzie was right, no offense. You are kind of gross this morning.”

Evan shrugged. He didn’t want to explain the nightmares, assuming it would put Michael in a sour mood. He didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“Fredbear’s not looking too good lately either,” Michael mused. “Want me to stitch him up for you?”

“Huh?” Evan blinked up at his brother. “Fredbear’s fine.”

“His stuffing’s going everywhere-“

“He doesn’t need anything. He’s fine!” Evan scooped the little bear into his arms, and Michael raised his hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine. If you change your mind, let me know. It would only take, like, 30 minutes, tops.”

Evan didn’t reply to that. Instead, he changed the subject. “I’m going to go shower.”

“Okay.” Michael almost sounded disappointed. But that didn’t make sense. Normally he was happy to be rid of him. Especially so near his birthday, when his friends would be coming over all the time.

On the walk to school, Elizabeth wouldn’t stop gushing about how wonderful her hair was. She practically begged Michael to make it a more regular occurrence, but Michael just shrugged. Evan could see the smile on his face though. He knew it was only a matter of time before Elizabeth got her way.

“Mike!” one of Michael’s friends tried to call him over, but Michael ignored him.

“Come on, you two gotta get to class,” he said softly, putting his hand on Evan’s shoulder to direct him away from the other kid. With a startle of surprise, Evan saw a faint frown on Michael’s face. Maybe he’d had some kind of fight with his friends? Evan couldn’t ask about it, just in case.

“You can’t ignore us forever!” one of the boys shouted angrily while Michael guided Evan in the direction of the store after school.

“Just keep walking,” Michael muttered. He seemed very tense, and Evan wasn’t sure he could do anything to reassure his brother. He just did as Michael asked, hurrying along so they could get out of range.

A few short minutes later, they were walking into the store. Evan felt odd. He’d never been to the store without his parents before. Normally, he and Elizabeth only came when Mother was looking for something specific, or when Michael was sick, and Father was going to the store instead. Being here with Michael was… different.

“They don’t get it,” Michael whispered, seeming to forget who he was talking to.

Evan blinked at him, but Michael didn’t elaborate until after they’d filled the basket with necessary groceries and Evan’s deodorant.

“Everyone expects so much from me,” he mused. “My friends seem to think I have to give them every second of my attention. Mother thinks I have to be responsible all the time. Father…” Michael shook his head. “Even Uncle Henry assumes things. It’s awful, Ev.”

“Maybe it’s just because they like you so much,” Evan said quietly, hoping not to upset him.

“Nah. They expect me to disappoint them. Aside from my friends, anyway. It’s just so stupid. All this shit I have to put up with.” Michael froze. “I mean- Just forget I said that.”

Evan giggled involuntarily, surprising them both. “You’re not seriously apologizing for saying ‘shit,’ are you?” Evan asked. “Kids say that all the time at school.”

“Yeah, but if Mother or Father catches you saying that-“

“Who’s going to tell them?” Evan blinked innocently up at Michael.

He groaned. “I forgot how insufferable you are.”

“Only when I can be.” Evan grinned, feeling secure in his behavior. “Let’s get home. I have homework to do.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Michael shook his head, but the faint smile Evan had seen that morning returned.

“Want to watch T.V. with me?” Michael said when he walked into the kitchen.

Evan guessed he was finished with his own homework, considering his confidence in the way he sat beside Evan at the counter.

“What are we watching?” Evan replied, continuing his notes while Fredbear observed them both.

“The Immortal and the Restless,” Michael said with confidence. “And, it’s not even scary, so you won’t wet yourself when we watch.”

Evan shook his head disparagingly. “I got scared watching a movie with you one time-“

“It gave you nightmares, Ev! I got in so much trouble for that, you know.”

“Then why offer to watch something with me again?” Evan asked before realizing what he was implying.

“I-“ Michael sputtered. “C’mon, man.”

Evan put his pencil down and stared at his brother. He wasn’t getting angry, which meant Evan could actually ask serious questions without fearing consequences for it. “You spend all your time making fun of me, and teasing me, and scaring me, and making me miserable. Why should I trust that you actually want to watch something with me?”

Evan expected a lot of potential reactions to his comments. Yelling, maybe. What he didn’t expect was for Michael to crumple in on himself. “I… Look, it’s not…” Michael swallowed harshly. “I can’t say anything to justify my past actions. You have every reason to be weary. But maybe I’ve changed, Ev. I want to spend time with you. I’m tired of pretending all the time, and I-“

“You’re not kidding,” Evan said softly. “Were you exaggerating this morning, then? When you said it would only take 30 minutes to fix Fredbear?”

“What? No. It’s a bunch of little fixes. You just gotta have the right thread. And if we hurry,” Michael glanced at the clock nervously, “I know Father has thread in his office.”

“You…” Evan blinked. “You’d do that for me?”

“I gotta prove my point somehow, don’t I?” Michael jumped up from his seat. “I’ll be right back.”

Evan turned back to his homework, no longer able to fully comprehend what was happening here. Was Michael genuine? Was he really trying to be a better brother? Evan honestly had no idea, but the best way to find out was to wait until the summer, when Michael was always really nasty usually. For now, though, he’d settle for help repairing Fredbear.

Michael returned, out of breath and a little bit shaky. “We only have a few hours before Father is supposed to be home.”

“Lucky you said it wouldn’t take very long,” Evan said softly, expecting a contradiction.

“Still frightening to think about,” Michael replied. “Okay, I got this.” He threaded the needle and looked at Evan expectantly. Reluctantly, Evan handed his brother the battered gold bear.

Michael set him up gently on the kitchen counter, tucking the stuffing back where it belonged as he started his row of stitching. Evan knew the seams had been originally on the inside of Fredbear, but Michael had tried explaining that he couldn’t fix Fredbear like that. He’d rolled his eyes actually, saying that doing it that way would take a sewing machine and a trip to the workshop, something Michael was not willing to do without permission.

So Evan had to accept that the repairs would be visible, but at least Fredbear would be ready to fight off another night of terrors.

Evan didn’t mean to fall asleep against Michael’s shoulder while watching the show. In his defense, he didn’t have a clue what was going on, and Michael was too busy watching to explain it to him. Evan ended up giving up on the show to study his brother’s face. It surprised him how energetic Michael seemed while watching the screen, but then, Evan guessed this was one of his rare moments where there weren’t expectations dragging him down.

He stirred as Michael carried him upstairs. Confused, Evan blinked sleepily at his brother. “What-“

“Shhh, go back to sleep,” Michael said softly. “I just want to make sure you’re not going to have nightmares.”

Evan always had nightmares. That was the general idea of everything going on. He hated the idea of disappointing Michael, especially after how nice the day had been, but he couldn’t control his dreams. Not now and certainly not ever. He couldn’t even remember a time when he didn’t have nightmares every night. But he had a feeling Michael wouldn’t be swayed in this, so he just nodded against his brother’s chest and closed his eyes again.

Evan didn’t have any nightmares that night. Or at least, they weren’t nightmares he remembered. He woke up that morning with Michael curled protectively around him, like Michael was afraid of something happening. Evan wasn’t particularly worried about that, though.

For the first time in years, he felt content and safe.

#cloud writes #hiiiii #I should really be asleep rn #but I wanted to get this done today #well #tonight anyway #since it's past midnight here #but yeah #afton family #evan afton #michael afton

[kiwisbell]

Security Details: Chapter 1 [frankie morales]

Frankie’s long-time friend enlists his help. He's more than eager to accept the job. The problem is that he's in love with her.

chapter 1 | chapter 2

pairing: francisco "catfish" morales x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings for entire fic: abusive relationship (not between frankie and reader), murder, violence, BAMF frankie, protective frankie, possessive frankie, soft frankie, mutual pining, yearning, reader is not named but has a call sign (fox), frankie is dumb but he's got the spirit, angst, smut, fluff, partners to friends to lovers, happy ending, frankie spends most of this fic in his feelings, telltale signs of a fic written by a hopeless romantic, unprotected piv, breeding kink, creampie, oral sex, consensual somnophilia, english and spanish dirty talk, frankie going feral to keep his girl safe, possessive sex, blood and injury, undefined age gap

tags and warnings for this chapter: extremely/viscerally/unfathomably dumb frankie, mutual pining, so much yearning that my cup runneth over, foot-in-mouth syndrome, angst, abuse against reader, unrequited love

word count: ~ 10k

shrike is actually my all-time favourite hozier song and was the inspiration for this fic long ago. i still have a huge soft spot for this story; it is the ache of pining and the drive to be good enough for that one person you know will make everything better.

chapter 1: i couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted

Tomorrow is fight night for Benny, which means he’s taken to beating the shit out of his friends as a warm-up.

Frankie lifts his elbows in front of his face to block the next blow before taking a swing at Benny’s exposed stomach. The fighter ducks out of the way and lands his next punch—right to Frankie’s jaw. It’s enough of a hit to sting and throb, knocking his teeth around a little, and Benny immediately loses his gloves and claps Frankie on the shoulders. 

“Shit. Shit, Cat, I’m sorry. You good?”

Frankie doesn’t feel any blood welling from his lip, so he considers it a draw. Still, he shakes out his knuckles, preparing for another round. “I’m good. Are you good?” He grins at Benny. “‘Cause I almost had you tapping.”

From outside the ring, Will whoops. “That’s right, Fish. Take his ass down.”

“Nah,” says Benny, sliding onto the floor off the ring and reaching for a towel. “Don’t feel like killing Frankie today.”

“Jackass,” says Frankie, joining the brothers on the floor. “Could’ve won.”

He and Benny slap their palms together, and the three of them silently agree to end Benny’s destructive training for the day. Frankie suspects his face will bruise by dinner tonight. 

Will lies down on a bench and looks up at Frankie. “Where's Foxy? I know she could take Benny down.”

Frankie tries not to sound bitter when he grumbles, “Date night,” but fails. Benny and Will lock eyes, and the latter whistles, imitating an explosion with his mouth. 

Frankie drops down to the floor, back up against the ring with his knees bent. “She knows her boyfriend’s a piece of shit, right?” asks Benny. 

Frankie doesn’t want to talk about this, especially not when his friends know he’s the pathetic asshole who was too afraid to ask her out before someone else cut in. A someone else who has her showing up at the bar on their nights out with red eyes and strained smiles. The someone else who, despite being a well-rounded dickhead with control issues, still managed to get the girl.

He’s been with her through her boyfriends, just as she’s been through his singular attempt (and failure) at settling down. He hasn’t liked a single one of her partners, not even when they seemed to get along with Benny or Will or Pope or—in rare cases—all three. Frankie knows it’s because he can’t stand that every single time she introduces them to someone new, it means another guy who’s braver than he is. Another guy who beat him to the punch. Another few months wasted as his best friend stands within arm’s reach and remains altogether untouchable. 

“She’s coming tonight, right?” asks Will.

“She is if it’s date night,” mumbles Benny, but Frankie hears him and bristles. 

“Fuck off.”

“Kidding,” he says, lifting his hands in the air. “She probably doesn’t come, anyway. Not with that douchebag.”

“Fuck. Off.”

He has no right to say who she sleeps with, dates, or spends her time around. He has no more claim to her than he does to the throne of England. But shit, he can’t stand the thought of another man’s hands on her body. His hands tremble as he wipes them on his jeans and stands up. “See you dickheads tonight,” he says. “And stop talking about Fox’s sex life, or I’ll bury both your heads in sand.”

He slips his gym bag into the backseat of his truck when it begins to vibrate. He fumbles for his cell phone and looks at her profile picture, blown up large on his screen: a big smile on her face, her eyes glittering with mischief, as Pope’s pie-covered mouth kisses her on the cheek. He gives the camera a thumbs-up. Frankie had taken the picture. 

Pope walked into the bar with Will and promptly received a meringue to the face. 

“Happy birthday, Santiago!” she whooped, toasting her Cosmopolitan in the air. She loved fruity drinks on special occasions, and had managed to convince Ben and Frankie to order a Shirley Temple and Sex on the Beach, respectively. 

“Come here, Foxy,” shouted Pope over the chaos of the bar. 

Pope kissed her, sloppy and loudly, on the cheek. Frankie snapped a picture. Later, he would assign it to her contact on his phone. 

He wanted to tell her she was beautiful that night, glowing and cheerful in her tight black dress. She was practically on his lap in the booth thanks to the big bodies of Ben and Will sandwiching her between them, spreading their legs. He suspected it was deliberate. Frankie kept his arm secured around her waist all night, never quite touching the soft skin at her back with his fingers. He was hard enough as it was. 

“This okay?” she asked him, tentative and pleasantly flushed from her three drinks of the night. 

It was loud as hell in the bar, but he could only hear the wash of her voice down his spine. “Yeah, Foxy. Don't worry about me.”

She tugged on a lock of his hair beneath his cap, now long enough to curl at his neck. “That's my job.”

I'm so in love with you. 

He never told her. But he went home that night and fucked his hand twice in the shower. The week after, she introduced him to her latest boyfriend. 

Frankie answers his phone. “Go for Frankie, Foxy.”

“Hey!” Her honeyed voice is a tonic. “I’m sorry I couldn't watch Benny beat you guys up, but I was out getting groceries for Matt.”

Frankie can't help it. It rears up from inside like a fire-breather. “Matt can't get his own groceries?”

His name leaves her mouth like a tired warning. “Frank…” 

He feels like an asshole right away, slinging another arrow at her deadbeat boyfriend and making her upset, but Matt Erickson may truly be Frankie Morales’s archenemy. Not to put too dramatic a point on it. 

The worst day of Frankie’s life was when she took that first bullet for him. 

She's a good sniper. Damn good. She still smiles like she's never seen a battlefield. She treats it like a job where it counts, and sometimes he catches her kissing the ring on her index finger: silver, a gift from her father. He was killed in battle, and was the reason she joined. And she became deadly as she was sweet, gentle, a good dancer. 

She can really dance. 

She caught the sniper on the ridge faster than Frankie could register his body dropping just behind him. He whipped around to watch his skull hit the ground, his blood colouring the deadened earth. Frankie lifted a hand to the back of his head absentmindedly. He was untouched, unharmed. 

“Shit, Morales,” she said breathlessly, approaching him after she scanned the horizon for more surprises and hopped down from her cover of cliffs. “Almost let him shoot you.”

He shook his head, mildly speechless, and checked her over for injuries. He tugged on her tactical vest the way he always does. She squeezed his arm. “That makes eighty confirmed. You gonna buy me a drink?”

He swallowed. “I’m going to buy every one of your drinks for the rest of your life.”

She grinned up at him. 

He remembers the wind whipping her hair about her face, the glimmer in her eye. He doesn’t remember where the shot came from. He only remembers seeing her face fall and her eyes slide over his shoulder. He remembers her shifting them around, diving like a swan to block his body from something.

He heard the crack of the shot, then another as Will took him out with a shout. And he saw the blood blossoming at her hip. She reached out and steadied herself on his shoulder. “Oh, shit,” she gasped. “Oh, fuck, Frank. I wasn’t looking. That was really stupid. Wasn’t… Didn’t see…”

He still feels the panic when he recalls that day. 

He slipped his rifle around to his front and scanned the cliffs through the scope, but Will’s cry of “CLEAR!” echoed through the valley. Frankie dropped to his knees in front of her and lifted up her shirt to bear her midriff to him. She clutched the straps of his vest to keep herself upright. 

“How’s it look?” she managed to ask, trying to keep her breathing steady and her eyes open. She was handling it beautifully. 

“It’s nothing,” he said, though the choked sound of it betrayed him. “Just a scratch.”

It wasn’t. The shot went clean through her hip and was bleeding badly enough to blanch her face. She was turning grey, her body trembling. “Thought so,” she said. “Frankie…”

She didn’t finish. Her eyes fluttered and her foot faltered. He gripped her good hip hard and squeezed. He needed to keep her talking.

“Why did you do that?” he said frantically, watching periodically for Will and Benny as they made their way around the ridge down to the valley. Frankie opened his medkit, but there wouldn’t be much in here that could do her good. He shucked off his extra layer—a thick down jacket that protected him from the wind up here—and pressed it to her wound. “That was stupid, Foxy. Real fucking stupid.”

“Oh, shut up,” she wheezed. “Saved your life, Cat. Don’t be an asshole.”

“Need you to hold onto me,” he said. “I’m going to sit you down, but you need to hold on. It’s going to hurt.”

She panted through her teeth as Frankie lowered her to the ground, sitting upright against a rock. He kneeled over her legs and continued to put pressure on her wound. She blinked hard from the pinching pressure. “Part of the job, right?”

“Shouldn’t be. Not you. Not fuckin’ you.” He kept the pressure, hard and steady, on her wound, but the sight of blood—her blood, the only blood that could send him into a panic—nauseated him. 

She laughed, but it sounded nothing like her laugh. Her laugh was bells at noon, the sun high in the sky. This was hollow as a dead tree. “Thought this was an equal-opportunity workplace.”

She can weave stories and poetry from the smoky tendrils of death. By the embers of the fire, when they were the only two left awake, she would give him offerings. 

One night, she had lain beside him, and they stared up at the stars between the wispy clouds. Frankie had to let their co-pilot Mickey go that day. He’d been a lost cause, unable to release the seat belt as their helicopter went up in flames. They ran for cover, and all Frankie could think was, You could have done more. 

“When people die,” she had told him, “maybe their souls leave them for a reason. Maybe they have to leave because they need to bury themselves in the living. I think you’re keeping his soul safe, Frankie.”

It was the most profound piece of wisdom he’d ever heard, from her sleep-addled voice, next to him as they lay next to one another, barely touching, only watching the sky. It was only days after the team saw her signed on, and Frankie was already in love. 

“Frank… Frankie… ” Her blood made things slippery and got on both of their hands. There was a small red heart on her hip when two droplets of blood joined together. 

Funny. 

“Frankie…” Her eyes begged him. She scrambled to keep holding onto his hand. “Don’t let me die. I really don’t want to die.”

It was so rare, like seeing the bright burning core of a comet. Watching her crumble, desperate, sand between his fingers. She was dying, and they both knew it. 

Still, he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t do it the way he’d done with Mickey (“I’m sorry, I can’t get you out, we have to go”). “You’re not gonna die,” he told her, gritting his teeth and keeping pressure, keeping an eye on the pulse point at her sweat- and blood-slick throat. “Not gonna let you fuckin’ die, Foxy. Still need to give us that wisdom of yours, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice slurring as her eyes slipped shut for a moment. Only a moment, and the earth beneath Frankie’s feet shifted. But she blinked them back open. “You’re all idiots, and I need to be there to save your asses.”

“That’s right, baby,” he said softly, weakly. 

Neither of them would mention the nickname after that—the first time he’d addressed her by anything but her name or call sign. In that moment, he existed to bring her comfort. He existed to keep her alive. Breathing, for all he cared, didn’t matter one bit. 

“Where do you think we go when we die?” asked Frankie one day, stuck on a rooftop adjacent to hers, just the two of them tracking a target through their scopes. An elusive target. They’d been here four hours, bruising their hip bones on concrete and baking in the Colombian sun. 

“Oh, Francisco,” crackled her voice in his ear. The sound of his name on her lips always struck his bones like hammers upon rocks. “We don’t die. Not you and me. We just float down the river and crawl out on the other end.”

“I like your wisdom,” he said. The air was hot and stiff, his forehead beading with sweat. “But that sounds awful wet.”

“Bet you could use a drink right now.”

“Damn right I could.”

“Whoever makes the shot buys the round,” she offered. 

His heart soared with a hope he’d not yet learned to squash. “Just you and me?”

“That’s the only way to go, Frankie,” she said.

He found a beacon in her. Her heart was—is—a miraculous thing. It beats louder than everything else, hums like a soft melody, and casts its net across the reaches of the world. Her eyes find things nobody else’s can. Her smile reanimates dead things. She became a goddess to him. He wanted to hold that heart in his palms to see how brightly it glowed. He wanted to be the one with the privilege to keep it safe in his hands. 

She didn’t die that day. Frankie lay into the evac team for taking so damn long and refused to leave her side even when they insisted there was no room left on the chopper. He didn’t give a fuck, not when her hand kept grasping his in a desperate, half-alive attempt to keep him close. He became a rabid animal, snarling at anyone who came too close or pushed too hard on her wounds or tried to separate them. 

In her hospital bed back at their temporary base (this was a shitty covert job in Alberta, so the infirmary was more of a tent filled with stretchers than a state-of-the-art facility), she laughed at his latest joke. 

“What’s a pirate’s favourite letter?”

“Frank, I’m in so much pain—”

“You think it would be R, but it be the C they love.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered, her hand covering her mouth. It was quiet in the tent, filled with sleeping and recovering bodies. “Can’t believe I saved your stupid ass. Must be all that love I’ve got.”

He froze. Love. She said love. 

She said love, and yet there was a man waiting in her bed when she returned home with a new tale of glory to tell. A man who could never understand the things Frankie did, the things they spoke about under the stars when everyone else slept. She was off-limits. Untouchable. He wanted her more than anything in the world, and he could not have her. Because he could not say love. 

“I’ll let you rest.” 

He slipped his hand from hers and flexed it all the way back to his tent. It felt cold without her there. He just left her, alone and afraid to fall asleep. Afraid to close her eyes and never wake. He was the real coward.

“Did Matt get you to your appointment yesterday?” asks Frankie, trying for civility. “How did it go?”

She's been in physiotherapy since a bad fall shattered her ankle a few months ago. It's been making her antsy, off the field and stuck at home. “I walked,” she says idly, breezily, like she's trying to rush through it and move on. And she does. “We still on for tonight?”

He freezes. 

“You what?”

“I walked,” she repeats. 

“You walked.” 

Her voice is vaguely amused. “That is what I said, Cat.”

Frankie makes a decision. The next time he sees Matt Erickson, he’s going to punch him in the face. Frankie doesn't like confrontation, but he'll go one-to-a thousand against a Viking army if it means she's happy and safe. Walking half an hour to a physiotherapy appointment with a bum ankle is not happy and safe. 

“Frankie, I can hear your ears steaming,” comes her gentle voice in his ear. “I was fine. I didn't trip and the pain wasn't bad.”

“That's not the—” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “That's not the point. He was supposed to take you.”

He can't deny he's happy to hear a touch of bitterness when she says, “He got called into work.”

“Could've called me,” says Frankie, even though it's too late. “I would've taken you.”

“I’m okay,” she coos, patient as ever with him and his sour moods. “I promise you, Frank, I'm fine.”

He drops it for now. But if he sees her limping tonight, he's going to throw her asshole boyfriend into a Dumpster. “How's María?” she asks him. 

He huffs out his laughter as he gets into the driver’s seat. His back protests with a pinch of pain. “Misses you like hell. Asked me on Sunday if you can babysit this weekend.”

“Did she ask that, or her daddy?” she says slyly. Frankie closes his eyes and briefly knocks his forehead into the steering wheel, all because she can't see him. The way she speaks is clear and gentle; intelligent. His cock seems to like the sound of daddy passing her lips. 

“We collaborated,” he says sheepishly. She makes him so nervous. 

“Mmm.” There's sounds of rustling, and he can picture her moving about the kitchen, smiling as she wedges the phone between her ear and shoulder and unpacks her groceries. “Well, I’m available Saturday night if you want to go out, have some fun. You know I’m always happy to spend some time with my favourite girl.”

Frankie has no plans for Saturday, and he isn't particularly keen on making any. He’ll make a last-minute excuse to stay in with his two favourite girls on the planet and he’ll go another night wanting her but refraining from stepping any closer than he should. “Yeah. I’ll think of something,” he says. 

“Oh! And I picked up some more baby food since you're running low. I know she's almost eleven months, but she goes through that stuff like a vacuum cleaner.” Frankie’s heart is close to bursting. She treats his daughter like her own most days and thinks of things neither he nor Lisa do half the time. Frankie’s pretty sure Lisa is in love with her, too. She has that effect on people. 

“Thanks, Fox,” he chokes out. 

“And if your plans miraculously fall through,” she says playfully, “remind me to give you a haircut. Otherwise, I’ll be teaching María how to braid it.”

Self-consciously, he takes off his cap and ruffles his own hair. It is getting long again, curling around his ears and sticking up wildly when it’s humid, which is most days down here. “Yes, ma’am.”

Like everything else in her life, she treats Frankie’s haircuts with the utmost care and attention. She handles scissors as though they’re needles she must perfectly thread. Her haircuts are serviceable, and she asks for nothing in return except her next drink at the bar (he buys her drinks when they’re out together, anyway), but it’s the process he likes most. 

“Ow.”

“Don’t be a dummy, Cat. I’m not hurting you.”

Her hands lathered the shampoo in his hair, her long nails (a treat for herself during her temporary leave thanks to a certain gunshot wound) digging deliciously into his scalp, reaching the roots of his head and into his brain and turning him wholly pliable beneath her touch. “No,” he mumbled. “Just keeping you on your toes, Foxy.”

It was an awkward job: sitting up against the bathtub with his head dangling uncomfortably under the detachable shower head while she washed his hair, sidled up next to him on her knees. He kept his eyes closed because if he opened them, his eyes would be level with her tits. She wore an old, ratty sweatshirt from his closet so she didn’t have to worry about getting hair all over her, but his imagination was a real son of a bitch. It liked to run wild with pictures of her body beneath all that fabric, soft and sweet. He would have wet dreams about her if she wore a paper bag every day. 

“Lift your head for me, Frankie,” she said softly, cradling the back of his neck to support it as she washed the shampoo from his scalp. When they were finished, he shook out his hair like a wet dog and splattered her with water. “Frankie!” 

Her shrieks alerted María, so she picked up the then-four-month-old and bounced her on her hip while the other hand gently blow-dried Frankie’s hair. “Okay, gorgeous,” she said, switching off the dryer. 

“You talking to me or my kid?”

“You decide.” She kissed María on the top of her head, which was covered in the same dark brown curls as her father’s. “Let’s go cut daddy’s hair, hmm?”

Frankie tangled himself in each thick thread of yearning that stretched between them as she ventured farther away, downstairs into the kitchen where she would cut his hair over the garbage can. She had done it a hundred times, he felt, but the longing remained. The ache to touch her on the cheek, the waist, draw her in closer and kiss the soul right out of her. He wanted to take it and swallow it and wrap himself in it, keeping her forever with him the way she said they did with each life they took. He wanted that. He wanted to hold her life in his palms and nurture it, let it unfold with his, the lines on their palms intertwining like twin comets’ paths through the sky. 

Every day with her felt like that: chasing the sun, only to find out he was chasing a picture. He could never grasp it, never cradle it or sleep next to it or bury himself so deep in it he lost sense of himself altogether. He wanted so much of her that her essence choked him. It filled his lungs like gravel because he could never have her. So he yearned, and let himself die a little more each time she went home to someone else. 

“Frankie?” she asked him that night, both of them watching María sleep in his arms as they lounged on the couch, the television muted. 

He was drifting off, fighting sleep so he wouldn’t drop his baby girl. The sound of the voice next to him stirred him just enough, and he gained the sense she was about to impart a piece of wisdom he would carry forever. 

“I think you’re going to live a long, happy life.” Her head was on the arm of the sofa, and her eyes were drooping, but not quite closed, looking at him through her lashes. They were like shadowy spiderwebs on her cheeks. “I think, of all the people I’ve met in my life, you’re the one who deserves it most. I want you to have it, so I’m telling you right now that you will.”

It occurred to him much later that she thought he was asleep. 

~

The bar itself is a piece of shit in the middle of a highway, barely big enough to even qualify as a truck stop, and it’s called The High Dive. Sounds about right. Frankie gets there last (a routine phone call with his parole officer lasted longer than he would’ve hoped, but at least he’s through with his community service), and Fox is already in the middle of an argument with her boyfriend. 

“Invited himself,” says Will, interrupting Frankie’s train of thought before he can even make a stop at a coherent one. The Miller brother has a beer tucked into the crook of his elbow as his arms sit folded over his chest. “Doesn’t seem to trust you very much, Morales.”

“Hmm. Can’t imagine why.” Frankie is hardly listening. His eyes are laser-focused on the movements of Matt Erickson’s flailing arms as he yells at his girlfriend. Frankie’s hackles are up and his vision is beginning to bleed. 

“He wouldn’t, Fish,” says Will, nudging him with an elbow. “He wouldn’t take a swing, not here.” 

“I never—”

“Yeah, you’re thinkin’ it, man. We’re all fuckin’ thinking it.” Will gestures to their favourite booth in the corner of the bar where Benny, Santiago, and a couple locals they’ve befriended over the years are sitting. Benny and Pope sneak frequent looks across the bar to where the couple is still locked in a heated argument, standing too close in the shadowy hall that leads to the bathroom.

It’s not like Frankie has any evidence that Erickson has laid a hand on her. He knows the guy is volatile, angry at one wrong twitch of a finger. Frankie wouldn’t give a fuck if he decided to take a swing at him or his friends; it would give them all an excuse to deal a few blows in return, which he knows they’ve all been itching to do. No—he’s too close to her, his hands clenching into fists and jerking around as she flinches away from him until she’s backed into the wall, keeping her guard up and placing a hand on his chest to keep him at arm’s length. She’s speaking clearly and firmly, patient even as her boyfriend loses his shit. Frankie cannot hear a word, but he knows she’s in the right. 

“Why the fuck is he here?” Frankie just manages to bite his words off. 

“My guess?” Will shakes his head. “To keep an eye on you.”

“I’ll give him a fucking eyeful,” says Frankie, surging forward. 

“Hey.” Will claps a hand down on his shoulder to stop him. “Come on. Leave them be. He’ll get pissed and leave.”

“I don’t like this, man.” She’s handling it, still, trying to bring Matt’s temper down to a simmer. Frankie can’t look away. His eyes are her shield; if he blinks or moves, it will drop, and Matt will act. He will hurt her. Frankie can’t let it happen. 

The knot in his chest begins to loosen when she seems to strike a common ground with Matt. He breathes hard and backs away, nodding and muttering something. She smiles feebly, her shoulders rounded and her eyes dim with exhaustion, and he kisses her on the forehead. 

Frankie lets Will guide him to the booth and slides in next to Pope. “Pendejo,” says Santiago. Frankie knows he isn’t speaking to him. 

“Don’t get me fuckin’ started.” Pope slips a beer under Frankie’s nose. “Thanks, man.”

“Anyone ever tell her she’s way too hot for that asshole?” says John, a local Army-turned-trucker around the same age as Frankie, who doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth at that comment. 

Erickson approaches them without her in tow. That makes Frankie’s internal alarm bells sound. “Hey,” he says, lifting his beer in greeting. “How's everyone holding up?”

There is an awkward sound-off of halfhearted replies from everyone at the table except for Frankie, who won't even indulge. He has tunnel-vision, and he needs to make sure she's all right. 

His eyes meet Will’s, and the Miller discretely nods. “Hey, Erickson,” he says loudly. “Mind checking out my hood? My engine light came on halfway through the drive here and I don't want it to explode on the way home.”

Erickson agrees with mild enthusiasm (the prospect of getting paid for a tune-up provides most of his polite response) and follows Will outside. Frankie flees toward the bathroom and knocks on the door. 

“Foxy.”

Come in is her soft reply. 

The sound of the door unlocking is all Frankie needs to push his way inside and close them both inside. In here, the world pushes in on the two of them, and it feels like sitting in the bathroom together at his home, listening to her quiet humming as she washes his hair. “If he sees you in here, he's going to kill you,” she says. Her voice is utterly defeated. “I don't want to hear a lecture on how I need to leave him, Frank. I can't—” Her breath catches in her throat. “I can’t do this tonight.”

She finally faces him. He can tell that she's been crying, but he still counts to ten when he sees her puffy eyes and rounded shoulders. He's always been terrible at containing his impatience or rage compared to her, but she looks so beat-down and tired that all he can think to do is pull her into his arms. 

“He can try,” says Frankie, smoothing down her hair and kissing the top of her head. Her hands find his back, warm and soft, her cheek resting on his chest. She sniffles quietly. Frankie’s entire body feels tight, sandpaper on a wall, catching on every groove of her body against him. 

“I really want to kill him first,” he confesses. 

She shakes her head. “Not going to jail, Francisco. Can’t survive on this Earth without you.”

His ears are ringing. He barely hears the doorknob jiggle, the knock at the door, the scuffle outside. 

“She's in the fuckin’ bathroom, dude,” says Benny on the other side of the door. “Give her some privacy.”

“Oh, you mean her and Morales? You want me to give them privacy? Want me to let them fuck each other in there while I stay right here?”

“Maybe you should leave. You've had a bit too much to drink.” This comes from Pope. Reasonable, but tense. 

“Open the fucking door, babe,” shouts Erickson. Frankie puts her behind him instinctively. 

“Don't say a word,” she warns him. He bites down on his tongue. Her hand slips around to his arm and squeezes. She raises her voice so Matt can hear her. “I’m coming out, Matthew. We’re going home. Okay?”

Don’t, Frankie wants to say. Don't go home with him. Fuck, baby, come back and never let him touch you again. But she ordered him to stay quiet, and he can't refuse her. He can't do anything. 

It always ends like this. He lets her go, and he freezes. He can never be brave where it counts. 

She unlocks the door to face down her boyfriend, who's stone-faced and glaring at Frankie. He grabs her arm, tight enough to make her wince, and she shoves him hard in the chest. “Don't fucking touch me,” she says. “We. Are. Leaving.”

And they do. Frankie just lets her go, watching her until she's out of his sight and a bit further than that. He lets her go again. 

The next night, Friday, is Benny’s fight. She’s limping when she walks into the locker room. 

Frankie leaps to his feet despite the protest from his back. He’s in front of her, probably crowding her, but his head is in overdrive. “What happened? Shit, you're limping. Why the fuck are you limping? Did he fucking hurt you? I swear to God, juro por Dios, if he hurt you—”

“Francisco.” She's firm, jagged-edged, and it startles him into silence. She looks like she hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep in days, and her beautiful optimistic smile is nowhere to be seen. “He was angry with me for last night,” she tells him. Matter-of-fact and emotionless. “He grabbed my ankle and twisted it. I grabbed a bag and left while he was passed out. I slept in my car. It's the first time he's ever laid hands on me.” 

Frankie staggers backward. “I—” He rubs his jaw and shakes his head. He’s furious. He's terrified. He's sad and disgusted. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

She hugs herself. “I’m a total idiot. I know I am. I know he's a piece of shit, Francisco. I know it, and then sometimes he would be so kind, so gentle, and I wouldn't know which way was up. I never thought he would—” She breaks off like the words stabbed her, snapping her mouth shut and bringing her hand to it, trembling with tears she refuses to let fall. “I feel so fucking stupid.”

She's the finest sniper on the team. She's a storm on the field and she's the one who speaks the soothing words to them all when they're hurt or tense or just want to fall asleep. She's the reason and the eyes. She's responsible for their lives every time they step foot on the ground, and she never lets a single one go.

He says her name. It’s quiet and weak and almost lost in the ambient noise of distant cheering and air conditioning. It's a name that invokes rain and thunder and sunshine—the kind of sunshine that parts those angry rolling clouds. It's a rare name because it feels sacred. It's the name he reserves when he's about to do something stupid. 

“Don't say my name like that, Francisco.”

He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and grinned, cocksure and tipsy. He squares up with Pope at the table and the two lock hands in preparation for the arm wrestle. “You ready to eat shit, Morales?” 

“Nah, pendejo. You're gonna buy a round after this.”

Whoops and jeers lifted from the crowd, but Frankie just turned to her and winked. She stood out with her tight-ass jeans and her wicked glare. Damn, Frankie wanted to impress her. It's probably the only reason he beat Pope.

“So,” he said after he took down both Will and Benny, too. “Believe me now?”

She rolled her eyes and placed her elbow on the table. “Fine, Cat. When I win, I’m getting a shopping spree.”

“Hope you like wearing the same thing every day,” he teased, locking his fingers around her hand. Around them, they cheered for the Fox. 

Frankie lost. She got her shopping spree, and she showed off all the pretty dresses she bought with his money while he and María watched the makeshift fashion show. He didn't mind one bit. 

Now, Frankie takes a step forward and places his hands on her arms, her skin soft and warm beneath his rough hands. 

“I’m a fucking coward,” he tells her. “Every single time I've wanted to tell you, I’ve let you go.”

She frowns at her shoes and whispers his name. “I can't,” she says. “Please don't say it.”

What? 

“I…” He grasps at the air for something to say and falters. “I don't understand. Help me understand.”

Another sob leaves her mouth when she meets his eye. “I’ve waited years for you, Francisco,” she says, the words toppling onto him. Demolitions. Smoke. “If you say it now, I won't be able to stop myself from saying it back.”

He's in fragments on the floor. The world shifts from one axis to the other, back and forth, teetering over the blackness of space. “Honey, please just let me—”

“Frankie. I mean it.” She takes a step back, gently brushing him off her. There's nothing malicious in the action, but it tugs Frankie’s heart along with it. She's holding it in her hands, the way he's always wanted to do with hers. “Right now, I feel like I’m about to fall apart, and I don't think I can have that conversation with you.” She swipes her thumb under her eyes.

“No.” It comes out strangled and pathetic, like regurgitating stones. “No. Don’t go. Fucking stay. I—shit, I need you to stay.”

He's being a selfish asshole. His foot is in his mouth. She's hurt and needs space and now he can't let her go. What is wrong with him? 

He knows it was the wrong thing to say. Hurt floods her eyes. “I��ve been patient,” she says evenly. “But I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. You married Lisa, you had María, and I tried to move on. Maybe it isn't about what you need right now, Frank.”

He doesn't know why he gets angry, but he suspects he'll realise later that he's mad at himself. Which means he doesn't stop himself from digging deeper. “Are you serious? You've been fucking around with a hundred other guys because you wanted me? Tell me how that makes sense, honey, because it doesn't make a goddamn inch of sense to me.”

He regrets every word right away. Her face falls and her fingers touch her own throat like he threw a sucker-punch to it. Her entire body shrinks in on itself, and she looks like she does when Matt makes her feel small, worthless. But it wasn't Matt. Frankie did that. Frankie, who's supposed to be her friend. He wants to throw up. How could he ever think he could be good to her?

She swallows and gathers all her breath to make herself a bit taller. Frankie begins to shake his head, reaching for her. His stomach plummets when she flinches away. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I never should have said that. I didn't mean—”

“You wouldn't have said it if you didn't mean it, Frankie,” she says. Her voice is still collected, if a bit cooler, and it only makes him sink further into despair. “Don't take it back. I know you never liked any of them. That doesn't mean you get to talk to me like I’m just a whore when you were about to tell me you loved me.” 

She's right. She's so right and he's so stupid. “Please.” He doesn't move for her, but he can't let her leave. He can't let them go their separate ways like this. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she says. “But that really hurt, Frankie. I’m exhausted, and my ankle is killing me, and Benny’s about to fight. I’m going to go find the others now. Okay?” 

No . No, it's not okay. None of this is okay. “Don't…” He pulls at his collar. He's burning alive. “Don't leave it like this.”

There's a hollowness in her eyes. “You made that choice for me,” she says. “Just… do me a favour. Stay at Pope’s tonight.”

It's an unspoken code. Frankie can get down on life, on himself. He's been busted for taking things that make him feel lighter, but it only ever lasts as long as the drugs. He's clean, and he wants to stay clean. But he feels that familiar urge, that self-loathing that makes him itch for the powder. He won't do it. It'll make things worse. It'll make her look at him differently, and he's fucked everything up already. 

“I will,” he promises. 

She limps away to join the madness of the ring. Frankie’s heart goes with her. 

~

“So, you shouted at her.”

“Yeah.”

“After she just ran away from her ex, who had put his hands on her and undid weeks of physiotherapy.”

“Yes, Pope. I did.”

“She practically confessed she's been in love with you since before Lisa, and then you implied she was a whore.”

“I didn't—”

“She's sleeping in her goddamn car, Frank.”

Frankie slams his hands down on the table, enjoying the brief sting of pain. “Jesus Christ. I know it was wrong. I know. Okay?”

Santiago shakes his head. “I don't think you do get it, asshole. I think you wanted to tell her you loved her because she was finally available. It was fucking selfish, Frank, and you know it.”

Frankie runs his hands through his hair. It's been a while since she cut it. 

“Fuck.”

Pope is right. 

Frankie became a soldier at that moment. A soldier with one goal: tell her the truth before she slipped away. And he neglected everything else. Her feelings, her fear, her uncertainty. And when he couldn't accomplish his mission, he panicked. He kept her close, pressured her, and never gave her room to breathe. 

He threw away his friendship with her over a few petty words. 

Frankie doesn't hear from her for a week. He asks around, consults her family and friends, but not even Benny, Will, or Pope have seen her. She's still on leave since her physiotherapist sent in a report detailing Erickson’s assault, but she typically makes a habit of checking in with her friends. It's why Frankie stays at Santiago’s, drinking enough to put him to sleep at night but never using. He dreams of his Fox at night. They’re different dreams than he usually finds himself living in. She isn't panting and moaning and screaming his name while he pounds into her. He dreams of her smiling and laughing and lying with him in his bed. She's safe in his dreams. She's with him, and he's good to her. 

Frankie sleeps past noon the day she shows up on Santiago’s doorstep. 

Santiago is dressed and he's already eaten, but neither he nor Frankie mind him leaving out some cold eggs and bacon for Frankie to munch on when he decides to get his lazy ass out of bed. He wanders downstairs eventually, scratching the back of his neck and grumbling “Good morning” even though it isn't. She's not here. She seems to be nowhere. 

The knock at the door is clear but rushed. Santiago opens it to find her standing on his porch, dressed in a pair of ratty (men’s?) jeans, rolled up several times at the ankles, and a sweatshirt for a college she didn't attend. Her hair is tucked into the hood and she smiles grimly. “Hi.”

“Holy shit.” Santiago takes in the dark half-moons beneath her eyes and the tremor in her hands. But he notices the bruises most. Her lip is split, while her left cheekbone is shiny and purple. There's a cut on the slope of her nose and her forehead. He steps out onto the porch so Frankie can't overhear them or see her beat-up face. “Holy shit, Fox.”

“I know.” She brings him into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Santi. I’m in trouble. Couldn't contact you.”

He catches her sharp inhale when his hand brushes her side. He eyes her sternly. “What the fuck is going on?”

“It's Matt.” She rolls her eyes, but he sees tears well in the whites. “He found me the other night. Didn't like that I left. At least he didn't get my ankle again. Handcuffed him to the stove before he could try.”

Santiago pinches the bridge of his nose. Her relentless optimism is often refreshing, but right now, he's really fucking pissed off. “Is he put away?”

“Affirmative. Had to answer a lot of questions, but I sort of found myself asking a lot more.” She sighs. “I think he's into something. I’m being followed.”

Santiago frowns. “Drug pusher?”

“Not sure. All I know is I look like I had a fight with a blender, and I’ve seen a couple vehicles tailing me in the last couple days. Had to ditch my car.” She squeezes his arm. “I’m sorry I didn't reach out, Santiago. You didn't deserve to worry like that. None of you.”

Not even Frankie. It's unspoken, but he heard it in the way her words falter in the end. “You want to talk to him?” offers Santiago. 

“Has he been…” She clears her throat. “Is he clean?”

“As a whistle. If you don't count whiskey.”

She smiles, and it's real. “Good. That's good.”

“He's not going to be happy to see you like this.”

“He's seen me take bullets,” she counters. “This is a walk in the park.”

That's not true—Frankie pouts when she gets a papercut—but Santiago nods. “You want something to eat?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve probably stayed too long already. I don't want you wrapped up in this. Whatever this is.”

He ushers her inside and makes sure there aren't any suspicious vehicles nearby before he locks the door. She isn't limping anymore, but the state of her face makes up for it by leaps and bounds. 

Santiago squeezes her hand before he leaves to give them privacy. “He's been a total asshole without you around.”

She gives him a wry look. “I’m not going to forgive him, but I’m not going to chew him out, either. He already knows he's an idiot.”

She walks alone into the kitchen. He's sitting at the table and poking some cold eggs with a fork. “Frankie?”

The sound of her voice is something from his dreams. His head jerks up, expecting to find a shadow or a whisper only to wake up alone. But she's there. She's in the kitchen with him, standing just past the doorway. He feels the beat of his heart thrum back to life where it lay in her hands, at the same time his stomach plummets and his meagre breakfast threatens to lurch back up his throat. Frankie bolts to his feet. 

She's been beaten. 

“Who—”

“I’m okay.”

They speak at the same time, and a rapid silence overtakes the room. Frankie takes a step toward her. She doesn't move away. His fingers flex. He wants to touch her. He wants to tend to her wounds the way he's done so many times in the field. 

No. He wants to touch her like a friend, a partner, a lover. He wants to be gentle and crack jokes and make her laugh. He wants to see her eyes scrunch up with joy. 

He wants to kill who did this to her, but the urge to care for her overwhelms his tenuous anger. 

“It’ll heal,” she says plainly. 

He does not say a word.

“You've been my best friend for ten years, Frankie. That doesn't go away with a mistake. But I need your help, and it helps if this isn't painfully awkward.”

He understands the implication. I’m not here to make up. 

“What's going on?” he asks. “I—we haven't heard from you.”

“I’m in trouble,” she tells him. It's straightforward as a soldier, but there's something else. 

He's fine-tuned to her voice, the way she sounds when she’s angry all the way to jumping for joy. This sounds like fear, and it radiates all the way from his ears to his feet. “What’s happening?” he asks. “I want to help you, Foxy, I swear it. I’ll do anything.”

She smiles. It's coloured with exhaustion, agony, and a little gratefulness. “Thank you.”

~

The safe house is a little ways outside St. Augustine: an hour or so in Frankie’s truck if he takes the usual route to the coast. But he doesn't. He swerves between freeways, doubles back three times, and stops at four different service centres using three different credit cards and one with cash. It makes for one hell of a confusing trail, and it takes them four hours (and change) to get within a mile of the destination, but it seems to be working so far. 

She’s silent for most of the trip, her knees drawn up to her chest and her body tilted toward the passenger’s side window. She watches the trees and roads speed by with her cheek in her palm. It's nighttime now. The lights of other cars illuminate the shiny bruises on her face, making Frankie tighten his grip on the steering wheel. 

It's his fault. It’s all his fault that Erickson went back for her. 

“How long have you had this place?” she asks. Her voice is raspy from disuse. 

Frankie checks his rearview mirror to make sure no one follows him when he turns onto a side street that leads into town. “Me and the guys paid for it. Thought it would be good to have somewhere to go in the state. Just in case.”

She nods thoughtfully. “I like it here. It’s refreshing.”

He has so many things he wants to say. He needs to apologise, to beg for her forgiveness. He's going to get on his knees and plead with her. He won't lose his best friend because he got angry and stupid. But right now, he needs to protect her. He can do at least that. 

“It's coastal,” says Frankie. “Should give you a good view.”

“Always thinking of the little guy, Cat,” she says playfully. He doesn't miss the hurt that still lingers in her tone. Neither of them can forget the things they said that day. 

She confessed to wanting him before he married Lisa, and he threw it in her face. She will never want him again, but he will be forever damned if he doesn't make things right and earn the privilege of being her friend again. 

“You aren't the little guy,” he says, making another turn. Ahead, he sees a familiar white wraparound porch. “War hero, remember?”

She snorts. “War hero who can't put up a fight against her psychotic ex-boyfriend.”

His frown deepens until he's technically pouting. “Fox…”

“Just fucking around, Frank.” She extends her leg and gently prods his thigh with her foot. His heart leaps to his throat. “Been through worse.”

His chest is fluttering from the simple touch alone. He doesn't know what he'd do if she truly touched him. Skin against skin. 

“Focus, Catfish. Don’t want you fallin’ down on the job.”

“Eat my cue ball, Ironhead.”

“If you two don't shut up, I will shove this cue down your pants.”

A stranger sidled up behind her where she bent over the billiards table and swigged his beer. “Very nice,” he said, eyes on her ass in those tight jeans as she sunk the 12 ball. 

Frankie frowned deeply at him. He had left his friends at the bar to approach her, and all of them were watching as he tried to engage her in conversation. Clearly, a bet had been made. “You from around here?”

“Are you trying to get under my skirt, out-of-towner?” She clicked her tongue. “For shame. Never wear a dress shirt to a bar.”

“C’mon,” he persisted. “We’ll buy your drinks.”

“I’m set,” she said politely. “But I don't want to be passed around.”

The man’s eyes travelled down toward her breasts. “You sure?”

Pope was the first to speak up, shouldering his way into the conversation. “Hey. My eyes are up here, buddy,” he says, more easy-going than Frankie would be if he trusted himself to speak. 

Will sunk his next ball and clapped the man on the shoulder. “Try your luck somewhere else. She's taken.”

“What, by you?” scoffed the stranger. 

“Nah, dickhead. By him.” Will jerked his head in Frankie’s direction. 

Frankie, whose knuckles were white around his cue, didn’t register what's happening until she took a step away from the stranger and wrapped her hand around his bicep. The touch blossomed from the point of contact until it festered like a sore deep within his chest. She was touching him. 

“Wanna take a picture, or you wanna fuck off?” said Frankie coolly. 

The stranger lifted his hands in the air. “Can see when I’m not winning. Sorry.”

She rolled her eyes when he was gone and stepped away. “I’m sorry, Frank,” she said softly. “I won't tell Lisa or anything. Will shouldn't have…”

Frankie shook his head and kissed her temple in case the men were still watching. “Don't. He was bothering you.”

He didn't wear his wedding ring, and neither did Lisa, unless her parents were around. He should have loved her the way he did the girl in front of him. They both love María, their beautiful little girl, their light. But they never ached for each other the way Frankie does Fox. 

Frankie pulls into the driveway. He recalls that night, the way her hand felt so assured around him. He recalls aching for it to be real, for him to stand up for her because he is with her, because he gets to sleep with her every night and love her freely. He's missed every single chance. 

Nestled in a small neighbourhood near the highway and surrounded by fields of farmland, the house is quaint and painted a muted grey. The porch slinks around the house, a bench swinging in the gentle breeze. “Frank, the door,” she says. “Only half of it is painted.”

Frankie eyes the front door, dark green from the doorknob to the ground. “Got high with Pope,” he grumbles.

She hums her understanding and he escorts her inside. It's as plain inside as outside, a one-floor home with a small kitchen on the right and a living room to the left. In the hallway ahead lies doors to the bathroom and the bedroom. The singular bedroom. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he blurts out when her eyes land on the two doors down the hall. “Have before.”

She frowns up at him. “I brought this down on you, Cat. You take the bed.”

“Don't start. That couch is uncomfortable as shit.”

“Okay, you've convinced me.”

“I’ll get the bags.” He gently lifts her chin to examine her face, all clinical. “Bathroom’s on the left. I’ll meet you in there.”

She lifts a brow. “I can clean myself up.”

He grunts. “I’ve always been the better medic.”

He drops the bags on the floor and digs out the medical supplies from underneath the kitchen sink. She has shed her hoodie and remains in a tight tank top, examining bruises on her throat in the shape of fingers. His eye twitches. 

“I know you're pissed,” she says without looking at him. “If it helps, I am, too. Never thought I’d have to fight him off like that. Just… wasn't in my best form.”

Frankie gently touches her side as he moves around her. “Up,” he says gruffly. She knows the drill; a hundred times over they’ve had to patch one another up in the field. This should feel no different. She settles herself on the countertop while he fishes around for a bandage. “You hurt anywhere else?”

It's the question he's been avoiding, but it's necessary. She shrugs. “Mostly just got me in the face.”

“That the truth?” 

She breathes slower when he touches her face to clean off the cut on her forehead, and she holds her breath altogether when he gets to her lips. “Frank,” she says. It's a whisper, a leaf tumbling and drifting on a breeze, quiet as night. 

He meets her eye after he's secured the bandage to her forehead. “Tell me.”

She lifts her hips and shimmies her too-big jeans down her legs. He's seen her in her underwear before, but it doesn't fail to make him feel like he's drowning. “He cut me here,” she says, showing him a knife slash on her inner thigh near her pelvis, and another just beneath the waistband of her panties. “And here.”

He swallows, seeing red. His hand finds her skin, gravitating to it like it’s an opposite charge, and he’s touching her thigh before he knows it. “Fuck,” he rasps. “Fuckin’ kill him.” The man cut up her perfect, smooth skin. He was supposed to cherish and protect her and make her feel beautiful. He fucking hurt her, and Frankie was not there to stop him. To rip him apart. He wants to feel his knuckles break upon impact. 

She releases a shaky breath. He feels it ruffle his hair, so close together in the dim light. “He didn't—”

Frankie just shakes his head. She goes quiet. He doesn't trust himself to talk; it will probably dig the hole deeper. She watches him clean the cuts, fresh enough that this must've happened last night. Saturday night. It's the day she usually babysits. 

She hisses suddenly. “Frankie, gentle, please.” She pries his hand from her thigh. 

A wave of nauseating guilt wreaks havoc on his body. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” he croaks.

She plays an intricate game with her fingers as he continues to clean her wounds. He applies a worn-out tube of polysporin to the cut on her thigh. “Do you think María hates me now?” she asks, her voice soft and vulnerable as ever when it comes to his daughter. “Y’know, since I missed out on babysitting last week?”

He hums. “She couldn't hate you if you took all her toys away.”

“Don’t say a thing like that, Francisco. She’ll hear you.” Her head falls back and knocks gently against the wall. Her eyes slip shut. “You never told me what happened in Peru.”

“You… really don’t wanna know what happened in Peru, Fox.” Frankie grits his teeth, his hand coming to rest on her hip over that thin scrap of a tank top. “Promise.”

“You’re not giving me enough credit,” she says firmly, pinning him with a stare. “I’ve been your partner for ten years, Francisco. Lisa and I were terrified. She thought she was going to lose her baby’s dad, and I thought I was going to lose my best friend. You were gone for way longer than you said you’d be, and when you came back, none of you would talk about what happened. Redfly was gone, and all of you just—just moved on. You closed up.”

The least Frankie can do is look up and meet her eye. But he can’t. He just keeps his hand on her hip, gently stroking the bone with his thumb. 

“You want to know something silly? Even when you and Lisa got married, I thought I still had a chance with you.” At that, his head jerks up at last, and he finds her eyes brimming with tears. “Stupid, right? I thought…” She scoffs, shaking her head. “I could deal with you not loving me, but you not trusting me hurt so much more.”

He squeezes her hip. “Honey…” His teeth clack together with how hard he bites down on his own jaw. “I haven’t trusted any of those guys with a rat shit’s worth of how much I trust you. You’ve taken a bullet for me, for fuck’s sake. It’s just… Losing Tom, killing those people, all for nothing. Jesus, I hate myself for how well I sleep considering everything I’ve done.”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” she says indignantly. “It can’t have been for nothing.”

That just makes him feel more cynical. “Stole about two hundred and fifty million. Came back with what amounted to a million each, and didn’t keep a cent.”

Her lips part in understandable shock, but all she says is, “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Nothing good came from it,” says Frankie. “Not a goddamn minute of it. Tom’s dead.”

“Frank.” She steadies her hands on his shoulders as she slips off the vanity and looks up at him. It vaguely occurs to him that she’s still in her panties. “Do you trust me?”

“With my fucking life,” he replies.

“Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“There was that one time when you took a left inside of a right off Madison—”

She repeats her question, and he answers truthfully this time. “No, Fox. You haven’t.”

Even on a roof, scoping the enemy, or in his daughter’s bedroom, singing a gentle lullaby, or in the barracks, trading jokes (Frankie) and wisdom (Fox). Every word that has ever escaped her perfect lips has coiled itself around his heart. 

“Then trust me to tell you the truth.” She tugs on the hems of his sleeves with her fingers. “You have the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. Sometimes, I want to rip it out and examine it under a microscope just to watch it work the way it does. And sometimes, I want to beat you over the head with it. I know it’s hard. I’ve had my fair share of shit I had to trudge through in order to just fucking function every day. But you gotta know how good you are, Frank. You have to. Because if you don’t, there isn’t any hope for the rest of us.” She adjusts the cap on his head. “Killing and fighting isn’t who we are. It’s what we do. I’ll make something to eat.”

With that, she’s gone, slipping past him, leaving him cold and stunned and unable to speak. She’s all the wisdom of a prophet, sunshine in a human body, the first crack of a firework and the muffled silence of dipping your head underwater. She’s the serenity of dusk. He doesn’t know how to gather all the love that spills through his fingers. 

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal fic #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction

[foxgirlbutt]

Looking forward to getting Feeding Frenzy on Revision Zero tomorrow. I wish Bungie hadn't put like half of the gun's options behind time gates, but whatever. If the gun feels as good as it does now, it's gonna feel incredible once it gets all of the stat bumps it's supposed to have.

#vorpal + fttc for pve is gonna be a beast #idk what I even want on it for pvp. Moving Target is pretty good already i guess #foxy grumbles

[the-kr8tor]

What if R gift Blobie as a companion to Pirate! Hobie? (*/ω＼*) She rescued the lil guy/abomination from the water cause "poor cute thing can't swim just like her". It was a trick. Blobie came from water, he just wanna stay in R's sweet caring hands, except now he's stuck with her sassy pirate captain xDD They have love-hate relationship but unites when R is in danger/needs help with smth -🦊

Thank you for the lovely request, foxy!! Changed it up a bit, hope you don't mind 🫶

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, blob the symbiote cat AU, pirate AU, fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“Hobie, look!” You raise the gooey cat shaped thing in front of him. Its little paws (or that's what you think it is) wiggles in your grasp, milky white eyes all round and happy.

The captain looks from the map, the sun making him squint, searing heat melting him and the sand in his pants making him uncomfortable. Good thing you're here on the godforsaken island that the map has brought the entire ship to its beach or he'll definitely be crankier than he already is.

With the sun behind you, a white halo of light around you, bathing you in its heavenly glow; he leans closer to see better, which the creature did not like at all. The little entity yowls, almost scratching him.

“Fuck!” He shouts, jumping away. “What is that?!”

“Bad Blobie! We don't scratch the captain.” You flip the cat-like creature in your grasp, scolding it. Blob's eyes blink slowly, head tilting, trying to decipher what you said. “that,” you flip him again to face Hobie, “is the captain, you don't—” it mewls angrily. “—hey! Listen, you don't scratch or bite the captain or anyone. Got it?”

Blobie lays limp in your hands, surrendering. Hobie watched on with a confused look, scratching the back of his neck. He loves how you're so patient with the creature but he is eternally confused as to where or how you got it. Especially that you only left him on his own for only five minutes. (he counted)

“Love,” he sees you carry it like a newborn baby. “Should you even be holding that? I don't think its a cat”

“Of course it's a cat! Look at his ears,” his ears droop slightly, a black mass in Hobie's eyes. “his fluffy tail” it swishes to the side, and he swears he saw it change shape for a second. “his cute little eyes and he meows! So Blob is definitely a cat!” you smile happily at Hobie. He's not convinced.

“Where'd you find it?”

“Right near the shore, under some rocks. He looked like he needed help and when I took a closer look, he was stuck under it so I helped.”

“That was very kind of you, scuttlebutt, but we can't keep him.” Hobie opens the map again, counting his steps on the heated sand.

“But he'll die here!” You follow closely. “And you said the ship has rats so he can help kill them. Come on, Hobie!”

“Finn is doing just fine handling those rats.”

You scoff, “are you sure about that? He was all moody yesterday, even grumbling to himself. Please?” blocking his path, you give him your best smile that you know always gets the all powerful pirate.

Blob purrs, clinging to your shirt.

Hobie huffs, “we don't need another mouth to feed, love, ‘sides, Yuri is allergic.”

“Oh…” he almost caves in with the sad look you have on your pretty face.

Sighing, he reaches towards you, bringing you closer to him without losing his place on the sand. Pressing his face closer to your temple, he kisses you gently, trying to get the pout off your lips.

“Sorry,” kiss, “we just don't have the space just yet. After we find this treasure and buy the second ship, we can come back for him, yeah?”

“He might be dead by then.” You look at him forlornly, “I'll take good care of him, promise. I'll give him my rations.”

“And let you starve—?” The ‘cat’ leaps off your arms, running quickly into the thicket.

“Blob! Wait!” You run after it, leaving Hobie in the dust.

“Y/N! Damn It” Taking a stick, he plops in into the sand to save his last position before running after you.

Dodging branches and jumping over rocks, your sudden scream lights his nerves. Breathing heavily, blunderbuss at the ready, he follows the guttering sound.

Hobie finds you kneeling on the jungle floor, frantically heading towards you, he holds you by the shoulders, checking for injuries.

“What–are you alright?” You don't respond, still looking behind him. “Love!” He shakes you, holding your face tenderly. And with that you grin widely. Raising his eyebrows, he follows your line of sight.

Blob digs rapidly, too fast for a cat or even a dog. His movements are almost blurred, sand and dirt flying everywhere; Revealing thousands of gold doubloons and jewelry.

Blob shakes himself clean, sitting down in front of you, tail curling around his legs, licking himself clean.

“Do you want to keep him now?” You say with a smile, hand tapping his cheek. “Hobie?”

“I think I love this bloke.” He exclaims, eyes wide at the shining treasure.

“More than me?” You joke, embracing his middle.

“Maybe.” He teases back, kissing your cheeks like a man starved.

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #atsv fanfiction #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv fluff #hobie brown x fem!reader #pirate au #pirate! hobie #pirate hobie brown x reader #spider punk x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #blob the symbiote #cat symbiote #hobie fluff #fanfic #hobie x reader #🦊 anon

[hotpinkboots]

I am absolutely *starved* for foxy content, like one thing I’m obsessed with is foxy with piercings specifically, and imagine one night he’s like. Chasing you but you escape bc it’s just as the time turns over to 6 a.m., and as you catch your breath you notice one of his gold hoop earrings on the floor, and foxy’s reaction to seeing you the next night with his earring in your ear, the shock and the slow, reluctant tail-wagging he’ll deny but damn does that jewel look pretty in your ear and I hnnnnng PLS FEED ME IM A STARVING FOXY SIMP 😭

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~𝔉𝔬𝔵𝔶 x Reader Headcanons (Wearing His Earring)~

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OH MY GOSHHH FOXY WITH PIERCINGS. I LOVE YOU FOR THIS REQUEST🙏🙏🙏

HAPPY TALK LIKE A PIRATE DAY!

Summary: You looking pretty in Foxy's pirate booty (THAT BE TREASURE, YA KNOW) has softened his ol' sailin' heart.

~Enjoy~

★★★★

𝔉𝔬𝔵𝔶

★★★★

~He's a grumpy old pirate and cursed himself for not being fast enough to get to you.

~Didn't realize his earring fell out while he was chasing you.

~Until he saw you the next night, wearing it like it was yours in the first place.

~You considered putting it back on him, but these animatronics almost murdered you just the night before, so you decided not to get close to any of the animatronics unless you absolutely had to.

~Especially the one that was chasing you down the hall.

~He had been only a hair away from you.

~You could feel your heart racing against your ribs just recalling the horrific event that almost took place.

~Deciding to get a closer look, Foxy ran straight to your door when he got the chance, spotting the earring just for a moment before you slammed the door right on his snout.

~He was grumbling for a long time after that, and you noticed that the curtains to Pirate Cove stayed shut for awhile.

~After thinking about how Bonnie, Chica and Freddy took action, he decided he'd do the same, rather than running up to your door just to be shut out.

~Foxy made his way towards your office, and stood in the darkness for a few minutes without you noticing.

~Ahh, you were a sight to see!

~How cute you looked sitting there all focused on the security cameras, your lips pressed together with anxiety and your eyes flicking quickly over the cameras to catch any sign of movement.

~And the earring in your ear that glinted when the dim office light above caught it.

~Foxy felt his shaggy tail reluctantly swishing from side to side, his eye patch flipping up to take you in with both eyes.

~You were able to hear the robotic sounds of his tail moving.

~When you saw him standing there, though, you immediately shut the door.

~He had been standing a bit too close, and because of this, his nose had been bonked by the slamming door. He moved just in time, but also let out a string of angry mumbles.

~You had never seen Foxy just stand there like the other animatronics did. He always raced in to catch you. While this was an unnerving new strategy of his, you wondered what changed-

~Oh, yes. The earring. Perhaps he wanted it back.

~Just before you left the building, you put the earring on the party table that was closest to his stage, so he could take it back.

~But when you returned, you found the earring on your desk, instead.

~It was yours now, and if you tried again to give it back, the same thing would happen. It would end up on your desk again.

~Something told you this old fox had a bit of a soft side.

~~~~~~~~~

KJDHDLGH THIS IS PRECIOUS. I believe it's the most wholesome thing I've written in a long time! I LOOOOOVE the thought of Foxy with pirate jewelry!

Request Guidelines!

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Join my Discord server! We have movie nights, art prompts, a lot of places to ramble about your hyperfixations, and a ton of cool people to meet and roleplay with!:

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~Love, PinkBoots

#reblogs > likes #foxy x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf x reader #foxy x reader fnaf #pink's fanfic #fnaf #foxy #foxy the pirate #fnaf 1

[spookyserenades]

Valentines day special or drabble 👉👈 IM SORRY DANA IM A WHORE FOR UR WRITING OK!

DON'T BE SORRY LOVE!!! 💕 💗 💖 (this is for u!)

“Once again, I think I’ve gone overboard,” Y/N muttered to herself, hauling two ludicrously large, heavy shopping backs out of her car, trying her best to avoid the black ice slicking up the driveway. 

The morning of Valentine’s Day, Y/N claimed she was simply shuffling outside to check the mailbox, hoping no one said anything about the fact that she had stuffed her car keys in her pocket. 

She wasn’t really one to celebrate the holiday in the past. However, ever since her hybrids swept into her life, she made a vow to celebrate every holiday with perhaps a corny amount of enthusiasm. Hence, why she was lugging enough Valentine chocolate into the house to feed a village. 

Huffing, she followed the voices that were echoing in the kitchen, kicking off her snow-coated boots as she went. The crinkling of the paper bags had the voices not too far off quieting down, Y/N grinning as she entered the room, the scent of sugared berries and pancakes filling her nose. 

She had waited until each of the hybrids had slunk into the kitchen for breakfast, the only one aware that it was a holiday being Hoseok, who had dressed in every red-and-pink item he owned. Jeongguk, rolling his eyes at the breakfast nook, was bent over his notebook, appearing to be sketching something that he was copying from one of Namjoon’s occult books. The wolf hybrid was beside him, helping himself to more sugared berries. 

Ears perked up in her direction as she bustled into the room, placing the heavy bags onto the coffee bar where Jimin was filling up his mug, a soft noise of confusion leaving his full lips as he examined the bags stuffed with white tissue paper. 

“What’s that?” He asked, one of his sandy ears twitching as she squeezed his shoulder, the fuzzy fabric of his sweater making her fingertips tingle. 

“Oh, nothing…” Y/N replied mischievously, curiosity growing even stronger in his bright eyes. 

“Bullshit. I can smell your scheming from a mile away,” Jeongguk called out, looking bored when Namjoon shot him a dirty look. 

“You have quite the bullshit detector, sweets,” Y/N moved away from the coffee bar, finding the mug Yoongi had prepared for her on the island, beside where Taehyung was sitting. 

The Kodiak hybrid avoided her eyes, but still leaned into her touch when she used his upper arm to balance over the island to grasp for her mug. Things were still a little… tense between her and him, but Y/N was trying her best to give him space while he got used to her and Yoongi. 

Speaking of, the leopard hybrid emerged from the pantry with the bag of powdered sugar Namjoon had requested, his hair tied back with a scrunchie. He winked at Y/N, pointing to the stack of pancakes on the stove that were waiting for her, Y/N shaking her head as she watched Seokjin fry up some breakfast sausages. When Seokjin turned with the plate, he smiled at Y/N softly, though his ears were pressed flat to his head. 

“So, what’s in the bag, darling? Valentines?” Hoseok landed heavily on one of the barstools, sly knowledge spread all over his face. Grumbling, Y/N sipped her coffee with narrowed eyes. 

“Nothing gets by you, Foxy, huh?” Y/N put her hands up like she was caught red-handed, poking his cheek as she waltzed by him. 

“Valentines?” Namjoon’s voice was thick with confusion, Y/N more than used to the wolf hybrid being not exactly aware of the human calendar. 

Sighing, her surprise spoiled by her clever fox hybrid, she trudged over to the bags once again, and if she had a tail like the hybrids, it would be between her legs. Like a shadow, Seokjin followed her, though not as closely as he used to– not close enough for Y/N to catch a whiff of his comforting eucalyptus scent. Later that night, she and Seokjin would be driving into the city for the cooking lesson, and she was hoping that things wouldn’t be so odd between them. 

Humming, Y/N dove her fingers into the tissue, grasping onto the 7 envelopes she had placed in there only moments ago, the paper different shades of pink and red. It had been difficult to find cards for all of them that didn’t shout “I LOVE YOU” all over them, but in a stationary store within the same strip mall Judy’s shop was in, she found a bunch that simply wished them a happy holiday. 

Moving quickly, she delivered one to each of the boys, Jeongguk rolling his eyes as he accepted his envelope, flicking Y/N on the forehead. Once everyone had their card, Yoongi receiving his with a smirk and a stolen kiss to her temple, Y/N began passing out the boxes of chocolate she had picked up at The Prudential center– the fancy Swiss place Seokjin had pointed out several times, with the slabs of chocolate in the window. 

She tried to keep in mind everyone’s tastes; truffles for Jimin and Taehyung, a variety of filled chocolates for Namjoon, toffee for Seokjin. Namjoon accepted his box with glee, his dimples indenting his cheeks, abandoning his breakfast in favor of cracking into some peanut butter cups. 

“Thank you,” Taehyung took his truffles with a blush blossoming over his cheeks and nose, Y/N’s heart squeezing as he afforded her the briefest moment of precious eye contact. 

“These cards are so cheesy,” Hoseok snorted, pointing at the fat little angel on the front of his card. “You know, you should tell us that you’re planning to get us things for holidays. I feel like a bum whenever I don’t get you something in return.”

Hoseok’s russet ears drooped, pouting at Y/N as she ruffled his hair, giving him a squeeze around his shoulders. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she felt Hoseok’s back melt into her chest instantly, grinning as she watched him peel open his box of assorted pralines. 

“You don’t have to get me anything,” Y/N insisted, giving Hoseok one last squeeze before pulling herself away, Jimin shaking his head in disagreement as he mumbled something about flowers. “Besides. I got myself the boozy truffles, and I’m going to make you all watch a cheesy rom com tonight when I get back with Seokjin from the cooking class.”

At the sound of his name, as well as the mention of the class, Seokjin perked up from his spot– leaning on the fridge with his little tub of toffee– an excited purr ripping from his chest. While everyone was busy with their chocolates and cards, each hybrid in various states of fluster and flattery, Y/N found her way to Yoongi, who disappeared into the pantry before she could give him his Valentine. 

“Hoseok’s right. Cheesy,” Yoongi said, with his back turned to her, holding up his card. With a jolt, she realized he must have disappeared so he could open it privately, her cheeks burning as she clocked the sappy note she had written into his card. Desperately, she wanted to write similar sentiments on the other’s, but was still too chicken to confess to anyone else. “Here.”

Turning, Yoongi had a smirk on his face, reaching for Y/N’s wrist, and she was no longer paying attention to the commotion outside of the pantry. Holding her gently, Yoongi dug around in the pocket of his jeans, Y/N catching something sparkly between his fingertips. Swiftly, the leopard hybrid clasped a delicate silver bracelet around her wrist, the slim chain feeling like water as it was secured against her flesh. Gasping softly, she noticed the heart charm dangling from the chain, the design simple and elegant, and with the gift, Y/N felt her eyes water. 

“Yoongi… when, and how–”

“Something to spend my money on from Daisy’s lessons,” Yoongi shrugged, still holding her wrist as he examined the jewelry. “Wasn’t going to let you get me something without anything in return.”

With that, Yoongi raised her hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles, his cheeky smirk becoming even more pronounced once he read the emotion on her face; lower lip wobbling, shiny eyes.

“Be mine?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow, flashing his sharp canines at her, enjoying how overwhelmed she was. The corny remark, the very same one printed on his card, had her snapping out of it, clicking her tongue at the leopard hybrid. 

“Already am.”

#trouvaille #drabbles #asks #dana's thoughts #happy love day besties!!!!

[wiinterz]

show me out | kyle ‘gaz’ garrick

pairing: roller skater!kyle x roller skater!black plus size fem!reader

genre: f2l, one-shot

warnings: cursing, flirting, usage of the n-word (like once), banter, fluff, added oc’s, kissing/making out, petnames (foxy, baby)

word count: 2.4k

summary: your group, ‘the foxies’ had been holding the skating rink together since y’all were eighteen. your best friend, kyle and his group, ‘shottas’ been coming in hot as long as you could remember. on a saturday you bet kyle that his group couldn’t be better than yours at skating, you taught him everything he knows and then some. but why is it every time y’all work together, things just move better and smoother?

recs | taglist | help hub | cod m.list

AIR CONDITIONING BLASTING THROUGH the rink as people roll through the area. Groups and couples came out during the weekend as og’s and newer groups danced around the rink. ‘Party Like A Rockstar by Shop Boyz’ played through the bluetooth speakers. Wheels pushing past against the carpet with food in your hands, you reach your best friends who were sitting down with drinks in their hands. The shakes of stomps hitting against the ground and whistles blowing with the tempo of the song, with people singing and dancing in a single file line.

Sitting down next to Kelsey, you place the food on the table, watching your friends grab some and place it on their semi-empty plates. Your eyes gravitate towards a couple, the guy holding onto his girl’s shoulder as she tries to help him walk against the carpet.

“He finna fall, watch.” Rossco chuckled, your fingers grab a fry and chew on it. “Stop praying on these people's downfall,” Carmen shouts over the music, Rossco rolls his eyes and continues to watch with you. Without missing a beat, the man scoots back a bit too far and falls, his feet going up in the air while his girlfriend yells and falls with him. The people around them stop their movements and look down at the couple as Rossco and Kelsey laugh at them.

“Y’all deadass wrong for laughing.” You grumble and Rossco nudges your knee, “You not laughing is what makes it even more hilarious.” Kelsey and him laugh a bit harder and other people help the couple find a seat as the dude huffs and takes off the skating shoes.

Looking back down, you go back to eating your chicken strips with fries and hot sauce on the sides. Taking sips on her blueberry slushie, Carmen looks around, sighing as her favorite song, ‘Tambourine by Eve’ plays. “Come on y’all, we gotta get before everyone else takes up the space.” She whines and Kelsey speaks up, “Ain’t nobody finna take up space, you see how big that rink is compared to everyone. Plus I doubt most know how to move it like we do. So you good.” Kelsey reassures Carmen, or at least tries.

You nod in agreement, “she’s right, just calm down.” Carmen sighs, crosses her arms, and leans against the chair. “Okay but still, ion wanna be sitting here all night now.” “And you won’t now chill,” Rossco says and hands her his plate of food to finish up. Looking back down at your phone, the sounds of the front doors pushing open and Carmen stopping herself mid-sentence you look back up. A sigh escapes as you see your best friend and his clique.

Gaz walks in, a smirk on his face when he notices you. He's looking up and down at you, taking in what you’re wearing. Your hair is in braids but up in a high bun with your edges done. You have on a yellow crop top with your name bedazzled across it. You had on denim shorts, gold necklaces, and gold hoop earrings. Wearing a dark lipliner and lipgloss, your bangles moved around as you picked up a fry.

Your eyes did the same to Gaz, looking at what he was wearing. He has on black loose shorts, a black tee, and a sweatband on his wrist. He wore his newest Nike, a single diamond earring on his left standard lobe. His homeboys, Ricky, Marcus, and Gio were standing next to him. All were fine and brought attention to themselves.

A girl you never cared for walked past Gaz as she winked at him and he winked back. A bit of jealousy pangs you but you try to play it off. “She ain’t even allat and he’s liking her off?” You question out loud, grabbing Rossco’s attention. He looks at her and shrugs. “I mean she kinda fine, she got a fat a-” Kelsey hits his shoulder, looking at her and he kisses his teeth. “I think he means she ain’t all that for real, so stop,” Kelsey replies and you sigh, watching as Gaz walks up to you with his homeboys behind him.

His shoulders were back, chest out as he walked up, a smirk still on his face as he daps up people that he knows. You patiently wait for him, and as you do, your left leg starts to shake. You had no idea why he did this to you, made you a nervous mess, not that he hated it.

What made it worse was when y’all were alone and he gave you stares that said more than just friends but you ignored it each time. “Foxy,” he starts, his index finger holding up your chin, forcing you to look at him. Showing off his pearly white, you breathe and hold in your smile. Eyes glistening from the warm color lights as you stare at him, he was all you saw and you were all his attention he begged for.

If weak was a person, you would be the personification of that word.

“Gaz.” Your brow raises, he moves his finger from your chin and looks at everyone else. Waving at them they hum. “Saw you out on the streets the other day with wassaname?” Your tongue clicks against your teeth as Kelsey snaps her fingers. “Oh yeah, Aubrey?” She questions and you nod. Gaz playfully rolls his eyes and laughs. “So?” He shrugs, you shrug with him. “What, she wasn’t interesting enough for you or sum?” You ask, lightly punching his arm.

“I mean she is but eh.” He tells you, not sure what else to say about Aubrey, she wasn’t one of those girls he cared about. She was cute and had good intentions but he needed a bit more fire. Something he knows you could give to him, anything you dish out he could handle and make you stunned when he sends it back to you.

“So we’re gonna go on the rink or…?” Carmen injects, making you turn your eyes away from Gaz. You nod and stand, yet he doesn’t back up, keeping you close and locked in by the table.

His hand rests on it, and your chest raises when his eyes look down at your shirt. “What’s the magic word, baby?” His voice rasps, slowly looking back at you. You gulp and try not to fall back on the chair. “Excuse me?” Your voice almost cracks, and he hums and nods, moving away from you you roll from him and so does Kelsey, he widens his space for her as she rolls her eyes and talks shit under her breath. She never hated him, none of your best friends did. They all treated each other like siblings, which made it funnier when Kelsey would try and start an “argument”with him and end up losing in the end.

Going on the rink, you smile as ‘Show Out by Unk’ plays. Swerving from left and right as you crouch your knees a bit, Rossco follows behind, resting his hand on your left shoulder, and Kelsey and Carmen follow right after.

The DJ sees y’all on the floor, calling your group, people whistle and clap their hands, giving you more energy. As Rossco lets go of you, you all twirl, as Kelsey gets in front, raising her hands. Shouting out, “We ready!” As a group, you lean back as the rest of your best friends do the same. Carmen in the back, leans all the way, her fingertips touching the ground as you hold her waist. Gaz and his friends watch y’all, a smirk on his lips as his arms are crossed. He shakes his head, knowing that you two made that move.

Clapping your hands as you all get back up, you move away a bit from Rossco as he does the same, turning around, you both skate backward while Carmen and Kesley skate forward in a line. Eager to get on the floor, Gaz and his team stroll their way through. The DJ calls their group as everyone cheers for them.

He moves past you, raising a leg while letting it stay close to the ground, he squats down and keeps moving back. Laughing as you turn and look at him, rolling your eyes. Coming up to him, you mimic his move, the two of you, having your shoes close together as everyone claps, never seeing something like that before. “We better together, stingy lil’ girl.” He reminds you and you shake your head no. “Who the hell is we, nigga you speaking French or sum?” He chuckles and stands as you stand with him.

“I’m serious, we’re good together. Remember back in middle school, you and me making all these moves we taught our groups? Why aren’t we a group?” He questions and you raise a brow. “You mean a duo?” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, “You know what I mean.” And you shrug. “Maybe cause we’re two dominant people who know damn well if we do, I might go as far as damaging your shoes.” You say and he nods.

“And I’ll damage your jewelry, now what?” He raises a brow and you nudge him. “Boy, if you don’t-” He laughs and you laugh with him. “Let’s do this right, okay? You and me, like old times.” He says and rolls off with his group. You sigh and stare at him, he was good but not great like you.

Rossco pulls up, dancing with the rest. “What was that?” He questions and you keep your eyes on Gaz. “A wake-up call.” Rossco hums, Kelsey comes beside you as Carmen stands next to Rossco.

“Y’all imma be back.” You tell them and push past people, getting to Gaz who's shouting out the lyrics to the song. He smiles when noticing you. “Guess you can’t leave me alone huh?” He questions and you roll your eyes, standing next to him. “Don’t get cocky now, alright? I’m just here for old times or whatever the fuck you said.” And he laughs.

Gaz grabs your hands and pulls you as you crouch your knees and push forward, going into a twirl. He catches you, grabbing both of your hands as you move backward, rolling on the tip of your skates. Pulling him closer, he mimics you, staring at your lips as you stare at his eyes.

Turning you around and pulling you to him, you feel your ass against his crotch, his left hand resting on your stomach, as his chin rests on your shoulder. The mixture of smells makes you dizzy in the best way possible. He got you wrapped around his fingers the way he wants and needs. “Foxy, foxy, and you said you ain’t miss this? Liar.” He whispers against your ear. Kissing your jaw and going back to moving with you. Butterflies all in you, feeling all lovey-dovey.

“I-I never said I didn’t. Just, shut up okay.” You warned and he chuckled, “Just teasing, just teasing.” Pulling you closer, you hold in a whimper as he shifts in a way to feel all of him better.

“I’m not dumb, I still know when a girl wants me.” He replies, “You’re so damn delusional and desperate for attention, Kyle.” He shrugs, “And if I am? I know a pretty thing in my arms will keep on supplying.” He whispers against your ear. Wrapping his arms around you, moving his right hand from your waist. He places it in the back of your pocket, holding your left hand as he turns you around to him. Placing your hands on his shoulder he grabs you closer and tilts his head.

“So damn beautiful.” His voice rasps out, you gulp, trying to contain control.

You look down, smiling at his compliment. Looking back at him, he holds your hand and moves you to the beat of the song. Resting your head on his chest, it becomes an intimate experience between you two. Forgetting the world around you, your friends watch, smiling ear to ear.

“Look at me, please?” He mutters, listening, you do. Seconds passed, feeling like minutes. Your lips ghost against his, and Gaz’s eyes flicker to your lips and eyes. Not stopping anything, letting things just be. Your lips press onto his, your hands coming up to his neck as he holds you closely. Holding your cheeks, he continues to kiss you, deepening it as you widen your mouth for him a bit. His tongue slips in, rolling around yours, lips lock. Pulling away, you both smile.

Resting your forehead against his, his thumb caresses your cheek. “I love you, okay? And I’m scared to mess this up.” He expresses, your heart feeling like a tidal wave, you breathe out heavily and nod.

“I love you too.” You whisper, his smile grows and raises your chin. “Now kiss me like you mean it.” He mutters and you giggle, pulling him into you more. You kiss him, passionately and slowly. Just the way you imagined.

i swear making this imagine had me giggling, i want this experience so damn bad omg.

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