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angelatsumu · 6 months

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happy halloween <3 ft. simon <3

your husband simon has never been the type to enjoy costumes and "crossplaying"--he misunderstood the term cosplay and argues with you when you correct him--but seeing your face light up when you suggested he be the Darth Vader to your Padme made him cave. every year is the same, truly. you scroll on Pinterest and find a "cute couple costume babyyyy" and you pout up at him, and suddenly he's dressed as some goddamned masked character from a show or movie he'd never seen. last year--through teary eyes and cunt full of cock--you asked him to be the Iron Man to your Pepper Pots. through the haze of his desire he'd mumbled an agreement. this year you were so kind as to ask him before he'd been balls deep inside of you. your look was just the same, bashful and full of wonder. your husband would give you a kidney, so of course he doesn't draw the line here.

so, here you were on Halloween night seated on your silly little porch waiting for trick-or-treaters. he's fingering through the buckets of candy in search of another sour one when you swat his hand away, eyes glaring at him. he gruffs at you, muttering like a damn child while he places them down and steps away. "this is silly," he comments mostly to himself, thinking about how easily he lets his sweet little wife boss him around during this time of year. you're beaming though, and he can't help but feel his heart strings tugged when he catches a glimpse of you happily rearranging your costume as trick-or-treaters approach. you giddily run over to your husband, dragging him to the front of the porch to greet the newcomers.

A pink tint dusts your husband's cheeks as he relishes in the excited gasps and giggles from the children as they grasp at candy and cheer about his costume. he's always been uncomfortable with such innocent attention, but he can't lie about how loved it makes him feel to step into this Pickett fence life with you. the little ones run off with a rushed goodbye, cheering for your husband once more, and Simon pulls you in close to have you place chaste and gentle kisses along his lovely costumed face.

likes + rbs appreciated <3

#soft fic rec #simon riley fic #simon riley x reader #simon riley hcs #simon riley fluff #simon riley headcanons #pup’s thots #cod mw2 headcanons #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost drabble #ghost headcanons #ghost hc #halloween!fic #husband!simon #ghost fluff #simon ghost riley hcs #simon ghost riley fluff

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latoyalestrange · 1 year

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sleepless

n. scamander x f!reader

look at him omg

summary: you pull an all-nighter to help newt with his book. he just so happens to think you look very cute while struggling to stay awake for him.

words: idk not a lot

warnings: very old blurb from when fbawtft first came out omg. just fluff tho. minors dni tho BACK I SAY!!!

You loved Newt's creatures almost more than you loved Newt himself. You loved working on his book with him, you loved taking care of the creatures. But sometimes life caught up to you, and you suddenly realized you hadn't slept in the last 24 hours. It was 11 PM, the last time you had actually slept was 24 hours ago when you woke up in the middle of the night to Frank carrying on in his biome.

You smiled when you remembered how Newt tried to pull you back into bed when you went to see if Frank was okay. Then you told him what you heard and he was out the door before you stood up. You looked back up at Pickett and scribbled some more in your notebook. Pickett tried to run off the table, but you put your hand in front of him to stop him.

"Now, Pickett. I told you he'd only be a moment," You scolded Pickett and put him back on the table. He stuck his tiny tongue out at you. You did the same. You bowed your head to sketch some more, and could feel yourself slowly drifting. You blinked prufsely, and tried to stay awake, to no avail. You closed your eyes in defeat and gradually slipped into a light slumber. You could feel two warm hands begin to massage your shoulders whilst you were half awake.

"Darling?" Newt's voice echoed in your mind. "Darling, are you okay?" Your head flew up, your head now right next to Newt's as he continued to massage your neck and back. He chuckled and kissed your neck gently.

"Let's go to bed, love," He suggested as he squeezed your chest and bit your ear. You smiled and moaned quietly.

"I would love that," You whispered in his ear. Pickett screeched, which made you remember how tired you were. "But I haven't slept in legitimately 24 hours," He kissed your neck once more before he gathered your things in his arms. You stood up from the bench and carried Pickett to his tree home. Newt waited for you with his arm stretched out, a signal for you to take his hand. You did so, and he lead you to the cottage the two of you shared. You went straight into the bedroom, and Newt, however, stacked your things neatly on the kitchen table and changed into more comfortable clothes before he joined you in bed.

"I love you, Y/N," He whispered as he brushed a strand of hair out of your face with his middle finger.

"I love you too," You replied. You scooted closer to him and placed a gentle kiss on his nose. Before you could pull away, he rested his hand on the back of your head and pulled you in for a kiss.

"As much as I would love to stay up kiss you, darling, you must get to sleep. Now, I love you more than anything-" He was cut off by your snoring. He smiled and kissed your forehead.

"I love you too," You replied in your sleep. He blushed and wrapped his arms around you.

"Sweet dreams, my sleepless love,"

#newt scamander #fantastic beats and where to find them #harry potter cu #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander fluff #newtblurb

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findmeinasunshower · 1 year

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𝑩𝒐𝒘𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔: 𝑵𝒆𝒘𝒕 𝑺𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓

word-count: 2k

summary: Mr. Scamander introduces you to his bowtruckle...and he may or may not be falling for you as he does.

warnings: none :)

“You have a bowtruckle in your pocket.”

Newt halts in his fiddling with the locks on his case and looks up at you through the wispy, caramel hair that’s constantly obscuring his eyes from your view. You’re perched on one of Tina and Queenie’s dining room chairs. Jacob carried it into the living room for you earlier when you all first arrived. Newt had offered you his seat on the well-worn, but plush lounge, but you had refused, stating that you can handle having a conversation without a cushion, thank you very much.

Your legs are crossed daintily at the ankles, and you lean forward as you consider Newt. Or, more specifically, Pickett, who has clambered up his shoulder to huddle shyly behind his neck. Only the creature’s eyes and the sprig on top of his head can be seen, and you smile sweetly when you make eye contact. Newt blinks at the way your perfectly curled hair flutters around your eyes like curtains in the breeze when you move. He can tell you’re curious, and realizes that you’ve never seen a bowtruckle before. The corner of his mouth turns up fondly at the thought.

“That I do,” he responds, shifting in his crouch as he finishes locking up his case.

“Why?”

Newt finds himself blinking once again at the bluntness of your question, and he tilts his head up to look at you fully. Your gaze meets his inquisitively, and he’s quick to look back down before you can see the blush spreading across his cheeks. He rolls out of his crouch with a small sigh until he’s sitting on the ground with his back against the lounge, legs spread out in front of him. “Well,” he starts, “I keep bowtruckles in my case, but Pickett has what Queenie calls ‘attachment issues.’”

You raise your eyebrows and an amused smile creeps across your face. “Attachment issues,” you repeat, encouraging him to elaborate.

Newt backtracks, eyes flicking to the ceiling as he thinks of a way to explain. He holds his hand up in front of his shoulder, encouraging Pickett to wrap his spindly limbs around his thumb and pull himself up. Once his little friend is standing comfortably on his palm, Newt runs a gentle finger over the sprout at the top of his head. “He doesn’t like his tree,” he clarifies simply.

You chuckle softly and lean forward out of your chair to get a closer look. “But aren’t bowtruckles guardians of their trees?” you ask. A pleased warmth spreads through Link’s chest at your knowledge of one of his creatures. You laugh again when he nods in confirmation. “Why doesn’t he like his tree?”

“He says the other bowtruckles bully him.” Newt shifts to cradle Pickett in both of his hands and sits up, crossing his legs. He regards you with a small smirk, green eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I have a suspicion that he’s actually just sensitive.” He whispers the last part as if it’s a secret, making you giggle and Pickett whirl around to glare adorably at his keeper.

Newt frowns right back down at him. “What?” he asks incredulously. “You and I both know it’s true.” You’re absolutely delighted when the bowtruckle blows a raspberry, and Newt rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Again, that behavior is so beneath you, Pickett.”

You snicker and slide off of the dining chair and to the floor so you’re sitting next to Newt on one hip, with both of your legs folded on top of each other. The magizoologist flushes bright red from the tips of his ears to his chest when you settle next to him, despite you maintaining a respectable distance between the two of you. He’s glad you’re too occupied with mesmerizing Pickett to notice his current state—The little creature had shied away from you when you first moved closer, but now he’s watching in fascination as you conjure flowers about the size of the pads of Newt’s fingers out of the tip of your wand. Pickett watches them all the way as they shoot up to the ceiling only to gently float back down to the floor.

“So,” You shoot a baby blue flower across the room, causing Pickett to reel around in search of it, “Does that make you Pickett’s tree?”

Newt whips his head around to look at you with wide, green eyes. “What?” he splutters. You grin at his reaction and unthinkingly magick an array of tiny, yellow flowers to rain around Pickett. The soft petals tickle Newt’s hands when the flowers land in them, and he finds he quite likes the feeling.

“Like I said,” you continue, “bowtruckles live to guard their trees. And if Pickett is always with you…” You fix him with a teasing smile underneath your lashes, “...that makes you his tree.”

Newt gapes at you, jaw moving up and down as he tries in vain to come up with something to respond with. What does one say when a beautiful acquaintance compares you to a tree? He swallows to clear his dry mouth and mumbles: “I suppose it does.”

Your lips spread into a wide smile and you snicker giddily at the baffled expression on the magizoologist’s face. At this point, Pickett has clambered up the lapels of Newt’s white collared shirt so he’s perched on his collarbone. And while you look back at the creature, Newt finds it impossible for him to tear his gaze from you. You twirl your fingers in a “hello” to Pickett, and if his heart wasn’t already melting at that small movement, the way your nose crinkles when you smile warms him completely. Newt’s mouth twitches up once again, and this time a glint of his teeth shines through his smile.

A breathy laugh escapes from his lips when you raise your wand and resume your flower shower. You look back at him at the sound, smile dropping slightly when you see the way Mr. Scamander is looking at you.

You’ve only known him for a couple of days, but from what you’ve seen, he’s never held a significant amount of eye contact with anyone. He tends to keep his head bowed, raising his eyes only for certain amounts of necessary eye contact. This close, you can see flecks of golden-brown hidden in his forest green eyes, like the first hints of autumn that appear in September. You find yourself searching for every last one of the beautiful imperfections while he maintains stunned eye contact with you. You get to see up close as his eyes soften, beholding you as if for the first time.

Newt’s eyes flick down to your lips briefly before raising back up to yours, and your cheeks flame at the minuscule gesture. You look down at your lap in an attempt to hide your flaming cheeks and notice Newt doing the same out of the corner of your eye.

“Miss (l/n)?” Newt’s quiet, husky voice penetrates your being, and you stop tapping your knee nervously. You look back up at him through your lashes to let him know you heard him and his eyes falter from his own lap to your eyes and then back again before he smiles bashfully. “Would you like to meet the rest of my creatures?”

A soft, but still shy smile spreads across your face. “I would love to.”

A full-on grin breaks across Newt’s face and he scrambles to his feet, gently guiding Pickett up until he’s perched on his shoulder. Then, he holds out a hand to you, and you smile as you allow him to pull you to your feet. Neither of you are quick to let go of the other’s hand, and you find you quite like the feel of his worked, calloused fingers in yours.

Newt’s the one who lets go first, but it’s only to reach down and flick the locks of his battered case back open. You watch as he pries it open and lets the top end fall to the floor with a thump. He stands back up to his full height and huffs out a breath and you look at him curiously when you feel him look back at you with a subtle smile. “Ready?” he asks.

Your heart flutters, and you feel like the sudden lightness in your chest has the power to lift you off the ground. “Ready.”

~*~

Jacob steps over the Goldstein’s threshold with a relieved groan and holds the door open for Queenie. He scans the living room tiredly, and what he sees has him suddenly much more awake. His jaw drops slightly, but he schools himself enough to say, “Um…Queen?”

“Hm?” Queenie bounces clumsily into the flat after him. She catches Jacob’s shoulder to stop herself from tripping over her own two feet, and her blue eyes widen as she takes in the living room. “Oh, dear.”

“‘Oh dear?’” Jacob parrots, closing the door behind his girlfriend. “What the hell happened in here?” When the two of them and Tina had left two hours before, the Goldstein’s living room was meticulously clean, thanks to the elder of the two sisters. Now, it looks like a meadow exploded. What seems like thousands of flowers lay scattered across the carpet and the furniture, most of them concentrated around Newt’s closed case in the middle of the floor.

Queenie’s careful as she walks further into the room, for some reason doing her best not to step on the tiny blossoms. “We’re lucky Teeny got called in,” she chimes. “I’m sure she wouldn’t be happy to see this.” She snorts softly and then giggles, returning to her examination of the sitting room-turned-field. “I just don’t know why either of ‘em woulda done it.”

Jacob turns around in a slow circle, face still scrunched up comically. “Where the hell are they?”

Queenie squints when she frowns. “I don’t know.” Her eyes flick down to Newt’s case laying inconspicuously in the middle of the carpet. She grins toothily and hums at her epiphany before scurrying over to the case and kneeling in its surrounding flowers.

“Don’t tell Newt I did this,” she whispers as she points her wand at the case and mutters, “Alohomora.” The locks flip open with a satisfying click, and Jacob walks over to join Queenie in peering down into Newt’s garden shed.

Queenie then proceeds to tip the entire top half of her body over the side of the case so her torso is dangling over the edge and into the other world.

Jacob splutters and grabs hold of the back of her calves just as she starts to slide. “Jesus, Queen, what’re you doin’?” he hisses, keeping his voice down in case Newt is close to the shed.

“Whoops!” is the only explanation she gives. Jacob sighs tiredly.

“There are a lot easier ways to do this, you know. Like climbing down the ladder.”

Queenie ignores him and turns her head to the side, blonde curls swishing into her face as she does. She blows harshly to get them to fall back out of her eyes before stilling once again, blue eyes flicking around the shed as she searches the thoughts of the different creatures in Newt’s tiny world.

It doesn’t take her long to find the two of you, but one, simple word reigns supreme:

Pretty.

Queenie smiles as the warm feeling you and Newt are taken with fills her up like a balloon. She swings herself back up into the apartment, and Jacob rips his hands off of her legs to avoid being sat on. Yours and Newt’s thoughts die down until all she can feel is Jacob’s confusion and Mrs. Esposito’s frustration because apparently Janey downstairs brought another boy in without permission.

Jacob frowns when he sees the way Queenie is smiling. “What?” he asks. She huffs and shrugs, still smiling, and Jacob raises his eyebrows at her slightly-crazed state. Her bob is now more of a frizzy pom-pom look and she’s practically twitching with excitement as what she just felt whips through her head like a summer storm.

“We best not bother those two for a while,” is her only explanation.

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najeeharris · 1 year

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New Orleans Saints at Pittsburgh Steelers | 11/13/22

#his graphic is so goofy looking KDBDMDB #there r few ones that actually look like them JDBJDSBS #but anyways kenneth 🫶🏼🫶🏼#kenny pickett #pittsburgh steelers #football #mine #my gifs

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random-fandom-inserts · 1 year

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Oswald

After your hippogriff injures his wing, you send a letter to your old friend Newt Scamander, asking for help. Will it spark up old feelings?

Newt Scamander x F!Reader

My first fic with him, so I apologize if it’s bad but for the release of Hogwart’s Legacy, I felt the need to try💖

He hasn’t seen or heard from you in years. Ever since you guys left Hogwarts, contact with each other kind of faded. You’ve been busy with magical beasts, like him, going to remote locations to do so, even discovering a new one. As a Ravenclaw, he knows that your studies matter before all else, but Newt hoped that you guys would keep some sort of contact.

Of course, he could’ve sent you something, but he was too nervous.

Newt had a crush on you back when you guys were fifth years. You seem to care for creatures just like he did. He’s always wanted to say something, but he was too shy. Then you guys grew up and Newt became busy with his own work. Right now, he was back in America after his brother pulled some tough strings to allow him to travel internationally again.

“What’ll it be this time Newt?” Jacob asked his friend from behind the counter. The magizoologist was in the bakery, leaning against the counter with his case by his feet. Deep in thought, he jumped a bit at the voice.

“O-Oh...just the usual, Jacob.” Newt said while also bending down to clip shut one of the locks on his case, which flipped open for a second,

“Oh come on. But that’s so boring.” The man before him tried to push Newt to get something else, anything that he has put more time into, but the wizard wouldn’t have it.

“My usual, please.” Newt said while flashing a tiny smile. Jacob just sighed before grabbing him a blueberry muffin. He grabbed the baked good and began to unwrap when the sudden sound of something hitting the window startled both him, Jacob, and every other customer in the building. Turning around, Newt recognized your owl sliding down the glass.

He quickly rushed outside, where your owl had come to its senses. The bird fluffed its feathers a bit as Newt offered his arm as a perch. The owl flew up there and landed, and that’s when the wizard realized there was a note tied to its leg.

With shaky hands, he undid and read the letter...

“Newt! Where are you going?” Jacob voiced when the wizard rushed back into the bakery and grabbed his suitcase before rushing out again. Your owl has since vanished.

“I need to get to Scotland.” Newt replied, not stopping his gait. As he left the store, Jacob continued to follow, mumbling “Scotland” under his breath with a confused face. However, as he was wondering about that, Newt was already far ahead of him.

“Wait! Newt! Aren’t you gonna pay-” Jacob called out, but Newt had pulled out his wand and apparated.

“...Never mind.” He then mumbled before walking back into his bakery, trying to calm the public down while also generating loud excuses as for what just happened...

Newt landed in a forest. Based on the smell and surrounding vegetation, he would say that he reached his destination. Your letter said that you would be in this area, so he began walking. It didn’t state much besides that you had an injured creature on your hands. He didn’t know what he would be walking into, but at least his case would have everything that he might need. A small chirp in his pocket made him look down to see a dazed and confused Pickett.

“Sorry about that Pickett. Nearly there I believe.” Newt said to the bowtruckle, looking down.

Around a half hour or so, Newt left the cover of the trees and found himself on a dirt path. Upon following it for a bit, he was led to a grassy clearing that had a broken-down wooden cabin and barn. But that wasn’t what caught his attention and stole his breath away.

An onyx-colored hippogriff was laying in front of the barn with you by its side, gently stroking its feathers.

“H-Hello Y/N...” Newt said nervously, catching your attention. You looked over at him and it stole his breath away. You were still just as beautiful as all those years ago if not more so.

“It’s good to see you again Newt.” You said softly, smiling a bit. The hippogriff next to you lifted its head, noticing the wizard. Newt set his case down and lowered his body slightly in a bow, but the hippogriff didn’t seem to care as it got to its feet and hissed at him.

“Oswald! Stop!” You shouted at the beast as he clawed at the ground. Newt bowed even more in hopes it would appease the hippogriff and keep it from attacking, remaining calm as he did so.

But as the hippogriff spread open his wings to show dominance, he squawked in pain before falling back to his feet, where you began to pet him again.

“What happened to him?” Newt asked, concern for your beast overtaking any nervousness he has around you. Upon further inspection, he realized that the hippogriff’s left wing was bent awkwardly. You scootched a bit so he could crouch down next to you.

Close to you.

“He likes to fly, but I can’t always be with him. One time when he went out, he didn’t return for a while. Finally came back, but on foot. I noticed the wing and how his behavior changed each time I touched it.” You explained to him, keeping Oswald calm as Newt examined it. Your hippogriff seemed to calm down, sensing now that you trust this man to help him.

“I’m not to good with injured beasts, especially wings, I thought that you would know what to do...and I knew it would be nice to see you again.” You said with a smile, petting Oswald’s flank as the hippogriff shut his eyes. Newt nearly stopped breathing at your words but managed to compose himself for the sake of the injured creature in front of him.

“Yes, me too, I also am...I mean, I do know how to help him.” Newt struggled with his words, causing you to giggle a bit and his face to flush red.

A bit of prodding and beak-snapping later, Newt managed to secure and set your hippogriff’s wing. Give him around a month or more, and he’ll be back up in the skies in no time. A broken wing was indeed the culprit.

“Oswald...is he yours?” Newt asked as he watched the hippogriff sniff and bite at the work that was done on his wing. You were shoving his head away each time but nodded to answer the question.

“I saved his life and in turn...he saved mine.” It was all that you told him, and Newt didn’t pry. He knows that look in your eyes because he’s had it himself. Oswald was taken by poachers, probably like some other hippogriffs that weren’t so lucky. Newt didn’t even want to imagine what he looked like before you saved him.

Perhaps you could tell him the full story some other time.

“Anyway, what’s been up with you?” Your tone changed from one of sad to one of joy, and the smile was back on your face. Newt has been waiting for a chance to catch up with you, and here it was. He told you all about his travels, America, and so forth. All the creatures he discovered, Pickett popping out to say hello at this point, making you giggle. In turn, you’ve told him how busy you’ve been exploring and studying creatures. He was eager to hear about the new creature you discovered. Tanukisunes (created by yours truly), name meaning something along the lines of “tricksters”, which resembled foxes with multiple tails while having beautiful navy blue fur. Apparently, they like to trick travelers and steal their belongings, guiding them off the path until they are utterly lost. But they aren’t cruel, guiding the lost traveler back to their path after they’ve had their fun-granted, with some items missing.

“Sounds like they’d get along well with my niffler.” Newt said and you laughed, nodding. The two of you then watched Oswald, who has now gotten on his feet, eyeing the both of you, but Newt in particular, this stranger who you seemed to trust.

You guys watched as the hippogriff took a couple steps forward. Ready to intervene, you stood up, Newt mimicking your actions. However, Oswald did something you weren’t expecting.

He bowed.

“It seems Oswald has taken a liking to you after all. Trusts you as much as I do.” You said softly to Newt, causing the wizard to smile to himself at your words. He seemed to shift on his weight as your hippogriff got to his feet. Newt was nervous about something he was going to ask.

“I-I’m happy to hear that about Oswald because...” He hesitated a bit, swallowing nervously.

“Yes?” You urged him gently. Oswald walked over and nudged his shoulder, encouraging the wizard slightly. Pickett poked his head out and began to chatter incoherently, trying to persuade Newt to speak up. He was grateful for the creatures, feeling comfort from their actions.

“Because it’s not safe out here, and...I think it would be best for me to keep an eye on Oswald...j-just until his wing heals so...maybe you could come with me? There’s room.” Newt offered before gesturing towards his case. He was expecting you to hesitate before saying you were too busy, but you just smiled.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

The smile that spread across his face was enough to make any woman’s heart soar. Pickett chattered in delight, causing you to give him an odd look with a smile. Newt covered up the bowtruckle and gently shoved him back in his pocket. Oswald nuzzled you and you pet his beak in response.

“You’re very sweet, you know that?” You told him with a blush on your face.

“It’s because of you Y/N...always.” Newt told you, smiling softly. Oswald gave you guys looks before swishing his tail a bit, wanting to get on his merry way with you guys. So, Newt opened his case, and the hippogriff took a running leap into it, disappearing inside the larger space hidden within. Relief went in you to know he was safe now.

“After you.” He said politely.

“Such a gentleman.” You teased lightly before going into the case. However, before you disappeared entirely, you gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you so much.” You whispered lovingly, and then you went in, the case clicking shut behind you.

Newt was glad you vanished because you missed the lovestruck smile that he couldn’t wipe off his face. And knowing that you might care for him back made him a bit giddy. However, he was mostly relieved to know that you and your hippogriff were safe and sound with him. It was creatures that introduced you guys to each other, and now it was creatures that brought you together again. In the end, maybe creatures will bring you guys together for good.

But for now, Newt knows he has to return to America, with you in tow this time.

He still has to pay Jacob for that muffin.

#fantastic beats and where to find them #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts imagines #newt scamander #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander imagine

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whatsnewalycat · 6 months

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like a moth(man) to a flame(thrower)

pairing: frankie “catfish” morales x f!reader

summary: just a deeply self-indulgent meet cute with frankie at a halloween house party.

rating: t

words: 900+

warnings: drinking alcohol, party

notes: happy halloweeeeen!

—

In lieu of red solo cups, a long-standing tradition in house party lore, your cousin opted to get black solo cups. Which was a nice touch, you had to give it to her.

You picked one off the tall stack and wrote your name on it in metallic sharpie. As you ladled the crimson “fangria” into your cup, someone dressed as Richard Simmons bounced through the cramped kitchen behind you on their way to the basement.

Sound erupted from downstairs when they opened the door, a racket of inebriated conversation and Monster Mash by Bobby "Boris" Pickett & The Crypt Kickers, then dampened when they closed it.

A skunky odor hit you after a two-second delay. You turned to look at the door, taking a sip of the fruity wine concoction, and considered joining the livelier half of the party. The floorboards beneath your feet bumped from the bass, as if trying to convince you.

If you didn’t taken one more look around before submitting to its call, you might’ve missed him.

This guy, leaning against a dining room table with his arms of his bomber jacket crossed over his powder blue hoodie. Army green cargo pants, sunglasses, a flame thrower strapped to his back. Even the big, dumb cowboy hat thing. It caused you to burst out laughing, recognition tickling your fancy.

He did a double take, only a glance at first, probably just sourcing the noise. But his attention quickly returned, alongside a crooked smile, lingering on you for a few seconds before he turned back to his conversation with an eerily spot-on Jason Voorhees.

Your pulse skittered. There was something in the way he did this. Intent.

Only another moment went by before he parted ways with Jason and started towards you.

Acting casual, he grabbed a cup from the tower and wrote his name on it, asking you, “How’s it going?”

“MacReady.”

He raised his eyebrows in question, “What?”

You pointed to his getup, “The Thing, right?”

“Oh!” Understanding brightened his features. A big, charming smile spread across his face when he looked down at himself, nodding, “Yeah, MacReady from The Thing.”

“I love it,” you grinned.

“Thanks.”

Drifting a little closer, he studied your costume. Confusion creased his forehead. He tilted his head up slightly and tugged on your feather antennae, as if trying to pluck a clue from it.

“You are… a, uhhh—” he frowned and shook his head, “I don’t know, a scary moth?”

“Mothman.”

“Mothman?”

“Right, mothman.”

“Never heard of him,” he chuckled as he filled his cup. Taking a sip, he leaned back against the counter, even closer. His gaze felt hot on your cheeks. He said, “You look nice, though.”

“Thanks,” your eyes dropped to his cup and you read his name aloud, “Frankie.”

“You’re welcome.”

You licked your lips, then told him, “That’s one of my favorite movies. The Thing, I mean.”

“It’s a classic.”

“Ok, sorry—I need to talk about this costume more. You have a fucking flamethrower and everything. And the hat—” You giggled and gave the visor of the floppy hat a playful smack, “It is ridiculous.”

Drifting a little closer, he chuckled and held up the business end of the flamethrower, “You know how many people have asked me if this is real tonight?”

“How many?”

“None. And that’s a goddamn travesty.”

“Uh-huh,” you smirked, meeting his eyes through the sunglasses, “Well, is it real?”

He smiled and shrugged, “Maybe.”

“Maybe yes or maybe no?”

“Maybe yes.”

“Shut the fuck up, are you serious?”

He nodded.

“Can we light shit on fire? Oh my god, please? My cousin has a fire pit—”

“Whoa, slow down, Sparky. The tank is empty.”

You deflated, shaking your head as you murmured into your cup, “What a tease.”

Frankie laughed, “A tease, really?”

“You can’t tell a gal you’re sporting a real flamethrower then not set shit on fire with it.”

Shaking his head, he said, “Tell you what, give me your phone number, we can set up a time for me to show you how to use it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Heat rose to your cheeks and you smiled, “Really?”

He dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, then handed it to you.

As you saved your contact information to his phone, you said, “I know this might just be a cute thing you’re saying to get my phone number, but I fully expect you to follow through.”

“You have my word.”

When you gave back his phone, his hand brushed up against yours, and something sparked inside you. He tucked the phone into his pocket. You felt him staring at you, and glanced down at his mouth as his tongue peaked out to wet his lips. For a moment, the two of you stood there quietly, letting static build between your bodies, pulling you closer.

The door to the basement swung open, filling the room with Thriller by Michael Jackson. A worse-for-wear Hollywood Hulk Hogan stumbled up the stairs into the kitchen and closed the door behind him.

He squinted between you and your new friend, swaying a little, then recognition kicked in and Hogan yelled, “FISH!”

“Jesus Christ, Benny,” he muttered in response, setting down his cup to start towards him, “You can barely stand.”

“I’m fffffine,” Benny swatted at his friend.

“Let’s get you home.”

He let out a dramatic groan, but accepted Frankie‘s arm slung around his back.

Frankie looked at you, eyebrows knit together, apologies written all over his face, and asked, “Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

You both lingered there for a moment, despite the dead weight hanging off one side of him, then he said, “It was nice meeting you.”

His voice was low and sultry. It heated you from the inside.

“You too,” you grinned wide and nodded, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He returned the smile, then glanced over at his friend, “Alright, drunk ass, let’s go.”

#frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier #meet cute #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic

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