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apomaro-mellow · 5 months

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Every Baby Needs a Daddy

Part 1/?

Modern au rock star!Eddie & sugar baby!Steve; alpha!Eddie/omega!Steve

Fall was in full swing and a chill was officially in the air at all times. Most especially as the sun started to go down. Eddie was warm in his leather jacket but for a brief moment his heart went out to the guy standing outside the bar, arms bare to the wind. He was dressed in a striped polo shirt and jeans, not quite what one might see in a dive bar like this.

But he was probably waiting for someone, so Eddie went inside without another thought, catching just the smallest whiff of his scent as he walked by. An omega. He was definitely waiting for someone then. No one kept their omega idling for long. Once inside, Eddie took his shades off, the lights low enough to keep most from recognizing him.

It helped that he was flying solo tonight. No band members or bodyguards in sight. It was nice to be anonymous sometimes. Not that fame and fortune ever got tiring, it was just a good change of pace. He posted up to the bar, ordered a beer, and got comfortable. He was right in the middle of a conversation with another patron about the current season's fishing prospects when that scent washed over him again something like lavender and petrichor.

Although, when Eddie looked over, that second part might've just been the scent of actual rain. The omega from outside was sitting next to him. The tops of his shoulders and head were damp.

"Was wonderin' when you'd come in and grace us with your presence", the bartender said.

The omega simply rolled his eyes and didn't order anything. Eddie saw him shiver and without thinking, took off his jacket and placed it over his shoulders. He realized what he'd done when the other man froze.

"Sorry you just looked cold and maybe you were but I shouldn't've just done something like that I can-I can take it back", he reached out.

"No", the omega held onto the jacket. "No, it's fine. I was cold. Thank you."

"I uh, saw you outside. Boyfriend making you wait?" Eddie inwardly cringed. He meant to be more subtle than that. Meant to say something anything else.

"Don't have one." The omega got a strange look as he finally looked Eddie square in the face. "Have I...seen you somewhere before? Sorry", he shook his head and let out a breath of laughter. "What I line. I swear I'm not-I'm not trying to come on to you or anything, I just know I've seen you on like tv or something."

Eddie couldn't judge on pick up lines after what he said about a boyfriend. "You...you might've." He looked around and contemplated for just a second before he continued. "Ever heard of Corroded Coffin?"

"They're a band, right? That's where I know you from?"

Eddie grinned. "Yeah, that's where." He could tell this guy just barely recognized him and that it wasn't an act.

"God, Dustin would kill me. I can hear him now. Sorry, I'm probably not the kind of fan you like running in to."

"I'll take polite conversation over groveling any day. So do you know any of the member's names?"

"I know there's the guy Dustin likes the most because he can play drums and the bass. He admires talented people like that. And he goes on and on about this Eddie guy, but I can never remember which one-you?"

"Me, handsome", Eddie grinned. "And your name?"

"Steve. But I also answer to 'handsome'."

Steve. Eddie had to taste it on his tongue. "Steve. And were you waiting for Dustin before the rain brought you in?"

Steve smiled now, adjusting Eddie's jacket across his shoulders. "No, I wasn't really waiting for anyone. And before you ask, Dustin is definitely not my boyfriend. I'm completely untethered." Steve ran a hand through his hair, not so damp anymore after they had been talking.

"You gonna order something or keep taking up space at my bar?", the bartender asked.

"What's your poison, Steve?"

"Oh, I can't pay you back", Steve said.

"Then don't. Order something."

"I mean I really can't pay you back, Eddie. I was hanging around outside because I...because I'm between paychecks right now. And I'm not that kind of omega." Steve's shoulders hunched up in shame and he looked like he was about to remove Eddie's jacket.

"I didn't say you were. You don't have to pay me like that. I take many forms of compensation. Including sparkling dialogue with gorgeous men."

"Really?", Steve asked, voice flat in disbelief.

"Really."

Steve turned to the bartender. "Whiskey sour please."

Eddie smiled. "So, what's your opinion on farmed fish versus wild caught?"

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

Steve had been going through the worst day of his life. Work had been awful and he had wanted to scream. He ran out so quick that he forgot his jacket and was already halfway home when he remembered. He kept going. He wasn't going back there today. He got to his apartment, ready to fill his empty stomach with something only to find he was devoid of food.

Of course. He'd cleaned himself out with his last heat and hadn't gone grocery shopping since. He'd been eating out for the past week. And if he checked his bank account....

$10.43

And pay day wasn't for another three days. Steve was desperate. It was plenty of money if he went to the convenience store right outside his apartment. But the cashier there always gave him odd looks and he just didn't have the energy for it. He contemplated sending someone in to buy his stuff, but he wasn't feeling very trusting right now.

Which was how he ended up at the bar. The dollar store would've been an option last week, but it was a couple of miles away and his car was in the shop. He didn't even know what his plan was. Buy the cheapest drink and fill up on pretzels and nuts? It was why he was standing outside as the sun got lower, just feeling sorry for himself.

He just wished someone would take pity on him. Would see how hard he had been working and told him it was okay, he could take a break now and they'd take care of him.

Hell would probably freeze over first though.

Then the rain started and he couldn't waste time out here any longer. At least inside the bar, it was warm. Steve already wasn't looking forward to the walk home. What if it was still raining? He couldn't afford to get sick right now. He sat at the only empty seat at the bar and thought of the least pathetic way to ask for a cheap drink when something warm came over him.

It smelled of ginger and cinnamon and for a moment, Steve was drowning in it when he heard the owner of the jacket try to apologize for it and then take it back. Instinctively, Steve held onto it tighter.

"No, no, it's fine. I was cold. Thank you."

The alpha next to him said something about a boyfriend that Steve barely registered but figured out by context what he was asking.

"Don't have one." He shook his head and then actually looked the alpha up and down. Curly hair spilled over his shoulders and he looked smaller without the leather jacket that was currently over his own shoulders. There was something oddly familiar about him. Like he'd seen that face on his social media feed or something.

When Steve asked, he realized he was talking to a guy in Dustin's favorite band. He felt like an idiot. This guy was probably used to starstruck fans bowing at his feet and here Steve was, just treating him like a nobody. But try as he might, Steve couldn't pretend like he was some big deal, even imagining Dustin's lecture on proper celebrity sighting etiquette later didn't change things.

Then the alpha, Eddie his name was Eddie, introduced himself and then asked for his name, tacking on a compliment at the end of the question.

"Steve. But I also answer to 'handsome'." He couldn't help being a little hungry for some positive attention right now.

Then Eddie asked a very unsubtle question about Dustin, insinuating that he was some kind of boyfriend and Steve wanted to laugh. The little kid he had babysat that had been like the pain in the ass brother he never asked for definitely wasn't that. And he let Eddie know that.

"Dustin is definitely not my boyfriend. I'm completely untethered." He didn't know why he said it like that. He might as well have spread his legs and held up a sign that said 'open for business'. This guy was a literal rock star, he must have lustful groupies throwing themselves at him all the time. Wording it like that absolutely wasn't Steve intention. Even if his scent was so comforting and intoxicating.

Then the bartender urged them to order something and Steve felt his empty stomach drop. Eddie insisted on buying him a drink and Steve really wished he had the money for it because there was no way he was paying in any other way. And if Eddie was expecting that, he'd just as soon go back out into the rain, leaving the warm jacket behind.

"You don't have to pay me like that. I take many forms of compensation. Including sparkling dialogue with gorgeous men."

Steve searched his face for a bluff, any sign of dishonesty. But he saw none.

"Really?"

"Really."

So Steve ordered just as Eddie asked him something about fishing and clearly this night was not going to go the way he planned.

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

Eddie was halfway through his second drink and knee deep in a conversation about the pros and cons of fishing compared to hunting. Apparently Steve's dad took him out hunting before he presented and afterward, his grandfather took him out on a couple of fishing trips.

"One just seems more fair, is all I'm saying", Steve said, still nursing his first drink. "One has you sneaking up on an unsuspecting animal. The other one you're just luring them. Fish know what they're getting into. Deer don't until they're already in your sights."

"You think very highly of fish intelligence", Eddie noted.

"I once had a year long beef with a friend's pet fish. Long story. But fish are smarter than they look." Then Steve's stomach growled. Very loudly. Embarrassingly loud.

"I don't know about you, but all this fish talk is making me hungry", Eddie said. "Can I buy you dinner?"

"I suppose I've got about twenty bucks worth of more conversation in me", Steve smiled, appreciating what Eddie was offering.

Eddie paid the tab and Steve put his arms into the jacket, then remembered Eddie might want it since it was cold outside. "Did you want-"

"Keep it on. I run hot anyway and we just need to make it to my car." That was a lie, Eddie had the circulation of a failing newspaper but he liked the look of Steve in his jacket too much to give it up. And the rain had stopped so now it was just damp and cold outside.

Steve thought he should feel wary of getting into a car with a stranger, especially a famous one. But he had his phone on him and Eddie was taking him to a place with a lot of people, so it was fine. Eddie put his sunglasses on as they went inside and asked for a table in the back, which the person up front gladly accommodated.

"Not to toot my own horn", Eddie said as they were seated. "But I can never tell when and where I'll get recognized. And I don't want any tabloids tomorrow morning." Because right now, Steve didn't just look like some random guy that Eddie was wining and dining. Right now, he looked like he belonged to Eddie.

"Got any funny stories?", Steve asked.

Eddie grinned and rolled his shoulders as he got comfortable in his seat. "Well, there was the one time I was literally in a tv studio about to be interviewed with the band and someone thought I was the boom guy."

"If I was dressing up on Halloween as a boom guy, I think I'd put on this general look", Steve said, gesturing to Eddie's whole body.

"And there was the time I got recognized while at a fabric store. I'm standing in line, basket full of sewing supplies and a bunch of floral fabrics, and this woman in her sixties asks for my autograph."

"Aren't you in a metal band?"

"Yeah and some of our most hardcore fans are women over 40", Eddie said. "Don't underestimate 'em."

A waiter came by and took their orders and they kept talking. Steve couldn't believe how badly his day had started because now it felt like he was flying above the clouds. Eddie actually seemed interested in what he had to say. And Steve was constantly thrown by the different directions Eddie took the conversation. From fishing, to getting recognized stories, to horrible customers, to the perils of sailing a boat.

"Never?"

"I remember going once as a kid and was scared shitless the whole time", Steve said. "Whoever decided it was okay for me to watch Titanic in kindergarten really messed me up."

"So besides that one time you've never been on a boat?", Eddie asked.

"My parents tried getting me on a yacht once and I started hyperventilating on the dock. I stayed on the boardwalk", Steve said. Just one of the many ways he'd been a disappointment.

After the meal, Eddie offered to drive Steve home. He wanted to. But after drinks and food and talking to Eddie for so long about nothing at all, Steve felt cautious. Had his guard lowered? If he let Eddie see him to his door, would Eddie be expecting something? What made him even more hesitant was that he might let Eddie get away with it.

He was handsome and charming and had alleviated Steve's worries for a few hours. He was even going home with some leftovers in a box. For a second, Steve wondered if food was all it took.

"Hey, look, I understand if you don't want some strange alpha taking you home. What about if I just order you a ride?", Eddie suggested.

"You can take me home", Steve said quickly. "Just don't expect any dessert."

Before leaving, Eddie excused himself to use the restroom and Steve used that opportunity to do something that was probably really stupid. It was certainly pointless. But he could take a risk every now and then. He tore off a piece of the menu and used a pen at the podium up front and that was how Eddie found him.

"Ready to go?"

"Ready", Steve smiled.

The car ride was a little more quiet, both of them digesting both the food and what had happened tonight. Meeting a stranger that you clicked with, it didn't happen every day. Steve gave him his address and Eddie pulled up to the building.

"You should walk me up", Steve said. "Make sure I get there safe."

"Y-yeah, I can do that", Eddie stuttered, struggling with his seatbelt while Steve was already out of the car.

Eddie followed him to his apartment, glad now for the chill outside because otherwise he'd be sweating watching Steve's ass for so long as he walked in front of him.

"Well, this is me", Steve said.

"I had a great time tonight", Eddie said.

Steve laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Can we come up with anymore first date lines?"

"Hmm, how's about I'd love to do this again soon?", Eddie smiled, leaning in a bit.

"I'd like that." Steve took Eddie's jacket off his shoulders.

"What if I want you to wear it for our next date?", Eddie asked.

"If you want me to wear this, you better scent it properly", Steve goaded.

Eddie pinned him against the door and smashed their mouths together. His jacket was trapped between their bodies. Steve let out a soft sound and brought a hand to Eddie's cheek.

"We can't go on a second date until the first one is over", Steve said when he pulled back. He curled a lock of Eddie's hair around his finger just because he couldn't help it.

"Your number?", Eddie asked, licking at Steve's lips.

"Check your jacket", Steve breathed.

Eddie didn't take his eyes off Steve as he went through his jacket pocket and found what Steve had been scribbling on earlier. It was a ripped piece of the menu. And it had Steve's number on it.

Part 2

If I had a nickel for every time I steddified a Marilyn Monroe song I'd have two nickels.

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #a/b/o #omegaverse #okay maybe dont expect all the parts to be this long tho LOL

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sweetcyberangel · 28 days

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Baby, I'm yours

Bouncer!Abby Anderson x Reader

> part two Synopsis: When your friends leave you stranded at a club you find yourself in the helpful hands of the club's bouncer, who - by the way - is super hot and definitely your type. tags/Warnings: Alcohol, reader throws up, Abby rides a motorbike (she's so hot kms), she smokes a cigarette, both reader and Abby are a lil’ awkward (sapphic pining aww), maybe a part 2??

The bass reverberates through the floor, the bright and colorful lights match to its beat. The alcohol in your system dissipates any self-consciousness you’d typically feel as you dance among the crowds. The world around you is a spinning blur of colors and sounds, if it wasn’t for your earlier taken shots masking it you’d have a killer headache. You look down at your empty cup and furrow your brows, you didn’t remember drinking that so quickly… ah well! Time for another drink!

As the night wears on, the once bustling crowd dwindles, it’s almost 2am now, the club won't be open for all that much longer. When you turn to tell your friend you are going to grab “one last drink” your lips fall into a soft pout realizing they're not dancing behind you anymore. You stand on your tip-toes, scanning the club but drop back down when they're nowhere to be found. Wandering around for a moment a small panic starts to settle in your mind, they were your way home. You’d spent all your paycheck on rounds of shots and drinks for yourself and your friends. Reaching into your purse you fish around for your phone, it's cool against your palm as you lift it to your face, squinting to try and make sense of the messages on your screen. Oh…

‘Sorry bae, heading home with someone tonight ;)’

Your head starts to spin with worry, your eyes staring blankly at the bright screen of your phone. Your stomach aches with worry and alcohol. You take a deep breath to try and steady yourself, but it only makes your head spin. The air in here is stuffy and warm and smoky, you can’t hear yourself over the music and your eyes are starting to ache from the bright screen of your phone. You need to get outside.

You stumble towards the front doors of the club, barely in control of your body. The doors swing open and walking into the cold, fresh air soothes you more than you could have hoped… Until all the drinks you’d had that night come right back up onto the grass.

On your knees, alone, heaving up rounds of drinks at the front of a soon-to-be-closed nightclub was definitely not on your itinerary for the night.

“Oh shit..” You hear from somewhere around you, blocked out by the sound of blood rushing through your head. . A gentle hand finds its way into your hair, pushing it back from your face.

Mascara-filled tears are staining your cheeks as you desperately try to catch your breath, the gentle hand releasing your hair and patting your head in a soothing rhythm. Whether it's in an attempt to neaten your now messed up hair or comfort you, you're not sure, but you’ll take any comfort you can get.

"Hey, you okay now?” You turn around to face the voice and are met with the most attractive woman you have ever seen. She is tall and all defined muscles and broad shoulders. Her hair is braided behind her and you can tell from her clothes that she must be some kind of security. Well shit, that's one way to sober up. You want to crawl into a hole. You think you might ACTUALLY die of embarrassment. Parts of you wish you would.

“Hello??” Her confused tone brings you out of your pity party, “o-oh, sorry! Uhm… yeah. I'm okay,” Your eyes well with tears again remembering the situation that brought you out here in the first place. The woman's eyebrows scrunch in a worried manor, obviously not believing you.

“You should probably head home, clubs about to close,” she flicks her head in the direction of the building behind you both. “Here, let me help you up” she says softly as she reaches a hand out, your eyes running over her muscular arms peeking out of her folded up sleeves. You place your hand on hers (and feel butterflies swarm in your stomach at the size difference, but that's besides the point).

“How’re you getting home, sweetheart?” Sweetheart?? Your eyes widen at the pet name, and you wonder if it's her or the alcohol making your brain go empty right now. Wait, she asked you a question… What did she ask?? You look up at her and she chuckles at your reaction before repeating her question (minus the nickname this time, sadly).

Your eyes look down at your feet and you play with the ends of your dress, not knowing how to tell her ‘oh my friend ditched me and I was too drunk to realize and I have no money and no other way home so I guess I'm just sleeping out here tonight!’.

She watches your face drop and reaches into her back pocket to fetch some keys, “hey, my shift is over, if you need someone to take you home…” You look back at her in surprise, feeling slightly guilty at the idea. As if she can read your mind she quickly adds “it's no issue,” her expression warm and genuine. She looks down at you expectantly, it's starting to get cold and you can feel goosebumps rising on your skin, so pushing your guilt and embarrassment aside, you nod your head. “I’d really appreciate that”.

Her hand is on the small of your back, gently guiding you forward until you reach a sleek, black motorbike. She reaches into the small storage compartment under the seat and pulls out a leather jacket, handing it to you to put on before speaking again, “you ever been on one before?” she asks, nodding towards the bike. You softly shake your head “alright, that's okay. Jus’ sit behind me, keep your arms nice ‘nd tight around me, okay?” Her voice is gentle, reassuring, and you nod in response. She hands you her phone and gently asks you to type in your address before placing it in a small holder on her handlebars.

She effortlessly climbs onto the bike, offering you her arm to hold as you settle in behind her. The engine hums beneath you as she revs it, and you wrap your arms around her, following her instructions to hold on tightly. As she pulls away, the wind whips against your face, the cold biting at your cheeks, so you resort to resting your face against her muscular back.

She smells like pine, it's sweet and earthy and makes your head spin.

She drives fast, skilled hands guiding the bike between cars and filling you with adrenaline. You’re sure she’s even more reckless when she is alone. The idea makes your cheeks go warm.

You take a deep breath, letting yourself sink into her warmth and the feeling of the breeze rushing past you. Your eyes fall closed and your mind clears for the first time in a really long time.

You went to the club to forget your problems, to have a single night where you wouldn’t have to think about all of the shit going on in your life, and yet this woman you don’t even know the name of has eased your mind more than any amount of drinks or loud music or partying.

You almost whine when you see your street materializing around you, but the idea of a shower and warm food is a momentary distraction from the sadness pooling in your stomach at the knowledge you might never see the woman taking you home again. The sense of comfort that surrounds her is one you know you’ll be longing for. One you already have been, for a long time.

Turning into your driveway, she kills the engine, climbing off the bike and reaching out to help you off. You look up at her and find your words caught in your throat. “Let me walk you inside?” She smiles gently, voice hopeful and nervous. You nod your head gratefully and her hand is on your back again. It sends a shiver down your spine.

When you reach your front door you turn to face her, “thank you… I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t found me” You giggle nervously under your breath. “yeah, of course”. Her voice is ever gentle, soft and reassuring. It stirs something within you. It's a way you’ve never been spoken to before. It makes you ache (both in the heart and between your thighs).

As your hand grazes the door handle, she hesitates, her voice tinged with nervousness as she speaks again “Feel free to tell me to fuck off if I read this completely wrong but- can I give you my number?”

You fight off the urge to squeal in excitement, but can’t fight the smile that grazes your face. The blonde girl in front of you feels her heart thump at the sight, and then thump even harder when you hand her your phone. "I would like that," you reply, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of seeing her again.

She hands your phone back and you finally take a step inside your home, turning back to bid her goodbye. “Get home safe” you smile softly at her. “Sleep well, sweetheart” She flicks a few fingers up in a wave goodbye

You gently close the door, glancing out the window and watching as she lights a cigarette, blowing the smoke into the night air. Your teeth graze against your bottom lip, pushing down a grin as you recall the night. Glancing down at your phone you feel your heart race at the name ‘Abby <3’ shining back brightly.

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #bouncer!abby

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zenmai--jikake--no--komoriuta · 2 months

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Broke: "Happy Valentines Day!" Woke: Bobgoblin Bass is a big fish native to the Middle Thaliak River that is characterised by its often unusually long periods of unavailability and its next known window of uptime will fall on Valentines Day in certain timezones, making this the one and only time you can technically say "I'll Bobgoblin YOUR Bass this Valentiones!" to your loved one this very special time of year--

#no I haven't been sitting on this joke for the past month what do you mean #this was spurred by me writing just ''bobgob'' on my calendar on valentines day with no further context and it spiralled from there #anyway bobgoblin awareness week!! it'll be up in a week!! surprise YOUR date this year with a lovely one-of-a-kind bobgob!!#kate being dumb #valentiones day #bobgoblin bass #ffxiv #ffxiv fishing #ff14 #ff14 fishing

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rhenuvee · 8 months

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Playing Animal Crossing New Horizons with Genshin Boys [Modern AU]

A/N: This is not important but I almost wrote sea bass with the characters

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Treats it like Minecraft. Farms the heck out of your island for materials, and makes his own little "base" that's bordered by fences. Has enough wood, rocks, iron nuggets, etc to supply him for a year.

Razor, Bennett, Albedo, Alhaitham, Chongyun, Gorou, Kazuha, Mika, Thoma, Tighnari, Wanderer, Xiao

Chaotic. Attacks you with a net, sends you purposely cringey notes with a smelly sea bass attached, dresses like a hot dog after telling him to dress nice for a picture, probably decorates his house like a demon summoning ritual.

Childe, Cyno (does it to make you laugh), Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Venti

Has sooo many bells... and from what?? He is your resident glucose father, always giving his bells to you to pay your debts. That 75,000 bell piano? It's yours. Really good with the Daisy Mae stonks, buys 100 turnips every time.

Alhaitham (asks you to catch a Coelacanth first), Ayato, Childe, Diluc, Kaeya

Broke. You’re the one with millions of bells. Takes so long for him to get out of the tent, and can't pay his home loans for days- but always has money for buying random things like a chair? Sometimes they have bells, but still ask you for some to annoy you. Also frequently gets scammed by Redd.

Bennett, Itto, Kaveh ("why does this feel oddly familiar..?"), Venti

Trash island. They are hoarders (honestly me). Your island's trees are still at the original random locations, along with weeds you have to pick every time, and some unknown "leaves" scattered everywhere. You say this is the reason Isabel gave your island a 2* rating but he denies it.

Bennett, Razor, Cyno, Itto, Venti

Clumsy. Always gets stung by wasps because he never takes out the net on time, falls for pitfall seed traps, and lots and lots of sea bass.

Bennett, Gorou, Itto, Kaveh

Treats it like Pokemon. Catches every single fish, bug and ocean species, completes the art gallery, every DIY. If you need something caught or made, he's your man.

Albedo, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno, Freminet, Kazuha, Mika, Razor, Heizou, Thoma, Tighnari

Wholesome af. This one gifts you sweet letters with nice gifts, aw. Plants lots of flowers outside your houses. Always gives you things you need. Probably decorated a small little space your you two, and gives the villagers nice gifts too.

Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Freminet, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Mika, Thoma, Venti

Doesn't really play video games... but he knows you like it so he tries to understand it. He's like a tourist, following you around, occasionally getting sidetracked by random things such as villagers. He doesn't know about the mailing system (yet) so he drops off gifts for you in front of your house.

Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Diluc, Gorou, Kazuha, Mika, Razor, Thoma, Xiao, Zhongli

Villager drama enthusiast (but chaotic). You tell him about your island and the personalities of your villagers. He goes a step further by making up gossip like "_____ cannot be neighbours with _____ because he cheated on her with _____!"

Childe, Kaeya, Kaveh, Lyney, Heizou, Venti, Xingqiu

The artist. Takes Animal Crossing very seriously. Has only the best clothes and furniture, sometimes making his own custom designs. Terraformed and decorated your island to a T, and takes cute pictures with you in the museum's aquarium, fireworks festival, etc.

Kaveh, Kaeya, Kazuha, Lyney, Venti

The competitive one. Originally he thought Animal Crossing was just a cutesy game. Once you introduce him to it, it doesn't take long for him to complain about Tom Nook being a capitalist and struggling to pay his loans and complete the museum. You offer to help but he insists on doing it himself.

Itto, Tighnari, Wanderer, Kaveh

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luxurychristmaspudding · 3 months

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you and your friends (tommy's party pt. i)

summary: your handsome new roommate spells trouble. but you've got a handle on it. haven't you?

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. roommate!frankie, stoner!frankie and stoner!reader. mentions of drinking and smoking weed - they're having a good time! no lady and no baby. idiots in love, split pov, lots of fluff tbh and a whole lotta sexual tension. reader and frankie are little creeps n freaks. reader pays a visit to benny, frankie hooks up with 1 (one) other person. f&m masturbation, voyeurism, lots of cuddling. use of pet names (good girl, baby etc. (platonic, of course))

song is tagged at end of fic - header does not represent reader, only the album!

wc: 9.6k

an: *mc voice* let's get this party started!

part ii - tommy's party

When Frankie catches a glimpse of you from across Will’s crowded living room, he’s not so sure Benny’s idea is a good one.

The room is lit with yellow lamplight, heavy with the scent of sweat and alcohol and cigarette smoke. There are people crammed in everywhere; slumped over chairs and sofas, leant against door frames, moving in and out of the kitchen with the click of the door beads. A sluggish bass thumps out over the party, the thrum of laughter and conversation cushioning any other sound.

He stands at the back of a sofa which has been turned inwards towards the centre of the room, leaning over Santi and Will as they howl over some story they’re retelling for a couple of girls squished between them. Frankie had been quite happy listening and laughing along, but he’s distracted when Benny taps his arm with his beer bottle and motions over to you.

‘That’s her,’ he says, ‘The girl I was telling you about.’

And yeah, he’s very quickly sure that this is a bad idea.

Because you’re beautiful. A gorgeous wrap dress clinging to your curves, each outline flowing like you’d been poured into it. Jewellery clinking and glittering around your wrists, neck, and ears, and your hair shining like each strand had been arranged by some ethereal hand. Your smile bands out around you, bathing your audience in a kind of glow, a reflection of your warmth. Frankie watches as you tip your head back slightly in a boundless laugh, the corners of your eyes crinkling, the soft clasp of your hand falling on the forearm of the man sat next to you. Fuck.

Frankie swallows drily, and Benny places a hand on his shoulder.

‘Come on, Fish,’ he says, ‘I’ll introduce you. I’ve told her about you already.’

Frankie doesn’t want to move. He’d much rather watch, much rather have Benny do the heavy lifting here. He doesn’t think he can talk to you, much less make a good first impression.

But his friend is guiding him forwards, and he can’t help but be shepherded. Panic rises like bile in his throat, and he thinks of turning around, excusing himself to go to the bathroom and just sitting in his truck for a while instead, but then -

Your bright eyes flick up to find Benny approaching you, and your face lights up. You stand from where you were perched on the arm of a chair and walk around the bundle of people whom you'd entranced. You place a gentle hand on a soft-haired woman’s shoulder, inclining your head to say you’ll be back in a minute, before you open an arm to Benny.

‘Benny!’ You call, squeezing his waist as the younger man presses you to his side, planting a kiss to your forehead. ‘How are you, man?’ You ask. Benny returns your greeting, answering your question, but Frankie can’t concentrate on anything he’s saying. You listen intently to his friend, smiling and asking a couple more questions, before looking properly at Frankie.

‘Sorry - hey,’ you say softly, ‘You must be -’

‘Oh god,’ Benny chuckles, ‘Sorry, yes. This is Frankie.’ Benny moves to press Frankie forwards, and he stumbles a little as he catches your outstretched hand. If you notice, you don’t say anything, just smile warmly at him and shake, giving him your name.

‘It’s good to meet you, man,’ you say, ‘Benny here has told me a lot about you.’ Benny laughs, clapping Frankie on the back.

‘Only good things, Fish,’ he grins, ‘I promise.’ Frankie rolls his eyes at him.

‘So, you’re interested in the room?’ You ask, and Frankie turns back to you. He nods, swallowing.

‘Yeah, really interested. It’d be great to come over and take a look if you’re around.’ He surprises himself at how easily the words roll off his tongue. You offer him another kind smile, nodding encouragingly, and he finds himself relaxing.

‘Of course,’ you say, ‘You’d be very welcome to. You have glowing recommendations from the boys, anyway.’ You lean in closer to him, lowering your tone conspiratorially. ‘I’d have you moved in tomorrow if I could. Sold on you already.’ Frankie beams bashfully down at the carpet and bites his lip, Benny’s idea straying dangerously back into good territory.

‘I wouldn’t believe everything they tell you.’ He says, eyes trailing over your neckline, the dip in your cleavage, the hollow of your throat, skin gleaming and a little damp with sweat. You reach out and tuck a stray curl peeking out from his cap behind his ear.

‘Not at all, sugar,’ you murmur, and your touch, the pet name, sends a shiver down his spine. ‘I think we’d get along just fine.’

Benny leaves you both soon after, in search of another beer. He asks if you want one and you politely decline. Frankie does the same. You lead him to a quieter corner by the back window and pull him into easy conversation. You laugh and tell him this is his ‘interview’, but confess that you really have no idea what that might involve. Frankie lets you ask him any question that comes to your mind, and in this pool of time, you discover everything you could need to know about each other. Where you grew up, what your parents were like, whether you enjoyed school, what you eat when you’ve had a bad day, how often you clean the bathroom, what you do now, and what your dreams are for the future. You ask tentatively, respectfully about Delta Force. Frankie appreciates the way you preface it with an out - you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to - but he finds that he does. He spares the details but tells you about training, about flying, about meeting the boys. He tells you about Tom, and as little about Colombia as possible. You nod, brow furrowing in sympathy, in feeling, and squeeze his knee in comfort.

Frankie’s heart shouldn’t skip the way it does, but then you’re asking him more about what Tom was like, how his family are. When his eyes mist over, you take his hand. He runs a thumb over your knuckles. He tells you, cringing, about the coke charge, about his licence. About how he’s getting it back in spring. You grin brightly at him, congratulating him, sucking air in through your teeth and doing a little dance in your chair. Frankie laughs at you, heart swelling. He doesn’t know how you’re getting him to do this - tell you all this stuff, make it feel okay, make him feel great. But he loves it. He could get used to it. You’re sat close to his side, shoulder to shoulder, and you are so warm, your skin so soft. Frankie leans in closer.

‘How did you meet Benny?’ He asks, breathing the words into the shell of your ear over the music. You squirm, dipping your head away from him, and Frankie wonders for an awful moment if he’s misjudged the closeness, if he’s already overstepped your boundaries.

You look at him sideways, your body angled away from him.

‘He didn’t tell you?’ You ask.

Frankie raises an eyebrow, mouth open, ready to apologise. His brow furrows and he shakes his head.

‘No.’ He says. You smile at him, sighing heavily through your nose.

‘It’s a little embarrassing,’ you say, avoiding his gaze. ‘We met at a bar. We got on really well, and -’ you huff out a breath, meet Frankie’s eye again. He’s still watching you, not having put together the pieces. You roll your head onto your shoulder, pick the label on your bottle. ‘We slept together, Frankie.’

Frankie’s heart drops.

‘Oh.’ He says.

‘Yeah,’ you laugh, ‘Oh.’ You’re quiet for a moment, Frankie scrambling for the right thing to say. He’s too slow. You clap your hands down on your knees and rise from your seat.

‘I’m gonna head outside for a bit,’ you say. He watches you disappear with a weak smile, an anxious feeling welling in his chest.

Frankie sits for a few minutes, taking pulls from his beer, looking out over the crowd assembled in the living room.

His spots Benny lent against a wall, held up by an arm outstretched beside a girl’s head. A tongue of fire licks up through Frankie’s belly, and he has to sit with it for a moment to work out what it is. Jealousy. He’s jealous that Benny has already touched you, has already heard you. Jealous that Benny has already crossed that threshold, and now he has to be the one to move in and keep his distance. Arbitrary rules, he knows, rules which have been disregarded before. Already, you’d be more than a quick fuck. It’s crass, but Frankie knows you should be more than someone you take home from a bar. Maybe you are - you’re here, after all, clearly invited. Frankie’s mind rocks with the notion that Benny is saving you, keeping you around. It would be cruel of him, but not impossible. Benny had a bad habit of getting what he wanted.

Frankie grinds his teeth, tears his eyes away from his friend. Stupid, stupid. You’re someone he’s only just met, someone he might be living with. Whatever weird thing this is going on in his brain, he needs to fix it quick. Thoughts like these are not suitable in situations like living together.

Frankie stands, but instead of speaking to Benny, instead of getting to the bottom of why you’re here, he follows you through the door beads into the kitchen and out the back door.

You’re sat on the porch swing just below the kitchen window, and the surprise of finding you so easily brings Frankie to a sharp halt. You look up from your bag, eyes wide, lips slightly parted in the glow of the porch light.

‘Hey,’ you say softly, ‘Are you okay?’

Frankie breathes out heavily.

‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘Sorry about that - in there,’ gesturing over his shoulder, back into the house.

‘Oh,’ you say, shaking your head and bringing out a small plastic baggy from your purse. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s not a thing. There’s no -’ you wave a hand around your head, ‘Feelings there or anything. We’re just friends now.’

Frankie nods, leans against the doorframe. Hums a response.

‘You wanna sit?’ You ask, scooching over on the swing, patting the space next to you.

Frankie pushes off the frame and comes to sit next to you. He rocks the seat slightly with his feet, yours dangling a little too far off the ground to move it.

You grin at him, delighted with the movement. You shuffle to tuck your legs under you.

‘Amazing,’ you grin, ‘See? Already a dream team.’

Frankie grins back at you and watches you take more items out of your bag. A small, circular grinder, a tiny rolling tray, pink papers. You pop open the baggy, and the smell of the dried plant seeps through the air, rushing up his nostrils. Frankie breathes deeply, watching you sprinkle some of the bud into your open grinder. You close it, and look up at him.

‘You a narc?’ You ask, lips still quirked.

‘No.’ Frankie chuckles. You bite your cheek, shrug your shoulders.

‘Ya never know…’ you coo, and Frankie grins.

‘I got busted for coke, baby,’ he reminds you, ‘I’m not gonna rat you out for weed.’

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow.

‘Fair enough.’ You say. Frankie watches as you twist the grinder back and forth over the bud, entranced by the motion of your hands. His lips part, watching the strong flex of your wrists.

‘Do you smoke?’ You ask. His tongue dips out to lick the pillow of his lower lip, and you trace the movement with your eyes, fascinated. You swallow, clearing your throat softly. ‘Frankie?’

His eyes dart up to yours, embarrassed, flushed.

‘Yeah?’ He says.

‘Do you smoke?’ You repeat. He looks away from you, shy, shaking his head.

‘I used to,’ he says, ‘But not for a long time.’

You nod, looking out over the garden with him. The cool wind brushing through the trees, the luminescence of the town beyond their feathered tops.

‘You wanna share?’ You ask. He looks back at you, surprised, eyebrows high on his forehead. You shrug. ‘Don’t have to, of course. Especially if it’s not gonna be good for you. Just that - if you wanna move in, I’m afraid it’s a habit I won’t be quitting.’ You raise an eyebrow at him, half apologetic, half warning. He swallows visibly.

‘What if I get too high?’ He says, breathless. You snort, balancing the rolling tray on your knees as you separate the hash out onto the paper, on top of the lavender you’ve pulled from your purse.

‘It’s okay, sugar,’ you say, ‘I’ll look after you.’

Frankie stares at you, eyes wide.

You snicker at him, finish rolling, and lick the paper. Frankie watches the swipe of your tongue, its slow draw along the edge, and feels his cock twitch in his jeans. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea -

He watches as you perch the joint between your lips, put your shit back in your bag, and pull out a lighter. Your eyelashes flicker down to rest on your cheeks as the lighter clicks and you cup your hands around the flame. You take a deep breath in, hollowing your cheeks, lost to the sensation, the taste. Frankie’s jaw flexes, and he has to look away again. You exhale the thick smoke, blowing it away from him, taking another drag before knocking your hand against his arm.

‘Want some?’ You ask.

Frankie mutters a thanks and takes the joint clumsily in his fingers, rotating it until it’s comfortable in his grip. He brings it to his mouth, and you watch as he sucks in and immediately sputters out again. He bends over his knees in a hacking cough, and you gently take the spliff as you pat his back.

‘You okay?’ You ask, taking another draw for yourself. Frankie leans back against the seat, sucking in great breaths of air, eyes watery, his body still twitching. He gulps and nods, not looking at you. ‘Good.’ You say, softly.

Frankie tries again a few minutes later, and is a little more successful. You finish the rest of the joint together before you flick the roach off into the darkness. Your body hums with the crickets and the static of the night air, and you can’t wipe the grin off your face.

‘This is nice.’ You say dumbly, turning to face him.

His arms are crossed and his jaw is clenched again. He breathes deeply through his nose. You scrunch your face up at him, and he notices the movement out the corner of his eye. His gaze slips to you for just a second, and a large smile slips across his features. You giggle at him, heavy and giddy. The urge to take the hand folded closest to you strikes, and when you do, he turns to look at you properly.

‘You have really nice hair,’ you say softly. Frankie chuckles, unable to help himself. You grin at him. ‘What?’ You say. ‘You do.’

Frankie laughs harder, and you reach over to take the cap off his head. He makes a slow, unconvincing grab for it before you settle it on your own hair, kneeling up to swipe a hand through his curls. He watches you, unable to look away, and you gasp at the feeling of it carding through your fingers.

‘So soft,’ you breathe, delighted. You look into his eyes again, one hand cradling the back of his head. His eyes dart down to your mouth, and you lick your lips before starting to giggle. ‘Anyone ever told ya you got baby cow eyes?’ You say.

Frankie’s brow furrows slightly. His words are slow and slurred. ‘What?’

You giggle harder and move your hand round to cup his cheek, looking at him very seriously.

‘Your eyes,’ you say, ‘Are like a baby cow’s.’ A slow spread of joy glows across Frankie’s features. His eyes scrunch up with his smile. ‘Nooo,’ you cry softly, ‘Now they’re all happy. They’re not all big and brown anymore.’

Frankie laughs with unbridled amusement, his head dropping from your hand as he clutches at your knees.

‘A baby cow?’ He gasps. You nod quickly, enthusiastically.

‘Yeah, Frankie. You got real pretty eyes.’ Your own are wide and earnest, and that seems to convince him. He raises an eyebrow before grinning goofily at you, lifting a finger to tap your nose.

‘You think I’m cute.’ He says, and you snort, which only sends him off into a flood of more giggles.

‘I didn’t say that. Only said you got pretty eyes.’

It’s only a little, tiny lie. And you think it’s for the best.

You spend another hour out on the porch before returning to the party, and though you don’t stray far from each other, you make a point of finding Frankie before you leave. You hand him your phone, and he stares at it, confused, before you roll your eyes playfully and say -

‘I need your number, dummy. For the room.’

He taps his number into your phone, and you save it with a little cow emoji next to his name. Frankie bites away his smile.

When he’s lying on the sofa in the dark later, surrounded by bottles and cans and ashy cigarette ends, he can’t stop grinning to himself.

You text him early the next morning, giving him a time and a date to come and see the flat. Frankie replies with so much enthusiasm that he flushes when he reads the message back, dropping his phone onto the coffee table as he stretches out on Will’s floor. He sacrifices his spot on the sofa to Will and Benny, Santi beside him as they watch Face/Off over breakfast.

He doesn’t see your reply until the movie ends.

Can’t wait! So excited to see you!

He sets his phone back down with a happy sigh, so loud that Will and Santi, and then Benny, ask him what he’s so pleased about.

He only gets them to stop probing by smacking Will in the face with a cushion.

---

Frankie moves in a week later, while you’re at work.

You think it’ll be much easier for you both. If you were in the flat you’d only be in the way, and he probably needs the space and time to figure out where he wants to put his stuff. Plus, the idea of seeing him all hot and sweaty is one that, quite frankly, you’ve been trying to avoid.

Benny had told you all about his friends on that first date at the bar. You had been taken with the way he’d talked about them, so fond and positive. You’d enjoyed asking him so many questions, and were delighted when he asked you so many in return. And Benny was cute - he was hot. Enthusiastic and giving and good. But you knew, even laying next to him, both panting, turning your heads to grin at each other at the same time, that it wouldn’t go anywhere.

He had been your type on paper. He’d ticked so many boxes, and you had both fallen into that first date with such excitement - but there was just something missing. There was no burn. You had a good time, you wanted to see him again, but you didn’t yearn for him the way you wanted to. You didn’t miss him when he wasn’t around, you weren’t worried about him fucking other girls.

It hadn’t been a difficult conversation to have. Benny took it better than you’d hoped, and once it had been established, friendship came easily. You met Will, got on well, and the three of you would go for drinks. Benny would come over to watch a film and eat takeout, and you never touched each other. Sure, you thought about it. But you were on a mission to make life easier for yourself. To not fuck around and get attached to someone you shouldn’t get attached to.

So you should have known better when he introduced you to Frankie. Should have made up some excuse, even if he pretty much had the room after all the boys had told you. Should have backed out as soon as those beautiful brown eyes blinked at you, at that first curve of a shy smile, as soon as you’d tucked that curl behind his ear. Because Frankie was someone you could get attached to. Watching him cook, watching the steam trail out behind him after a shower, watching him stretch out on the sofa with a book, having him crinkle his crows feet at you from across the kitchen as he sips his coffee, the low timbre of his voice reaching you across the floorboards, none of these things are something you needed to know, to see. You should have known better.

Work has been busy, long.

So busy you had to stay behind for a couple of hours to make sure the late shift got set up properly, and then you could trudge home. The bus journey, the walk up the hill, the clamber up the stairs to your front door.

When you make it halfway up the stairs, you can smell it. A delicious, warm waft of heady spices, of richness flowing down through the stairwell. You breathe deeply, aching feet pausing on the concrete just so you can tip your head back and inhale. Your stomach growls loudly, and you wish whoever is cooking a good meal, because it sure fucking smells like it.

The smell is stronger on your floor, and you’re still taking deep breaths when you push open your front door. There’s the sound of sizzling coming from the kitchen, the low hum of the radio playing. You toe off your trainers, leaving them next to a couple of unpacked cardboard boxes, splashing your keys into the bowl on the sideboard.

‘Frankie?’ You call. There’s no answer.

You move towards the sound, and push open the door to the kitchen.

Frankie is stood with his broad back to you, stirring something in a pot. He bops his head and hums in time with the radio, unaware of you behind him.

‘Holy fuck, Frankie. That smells amazing.’

He turns with a wide smile, a spatula in his hand.

‘Welcome home. I made enough for us both.’

You grin at him, dropping your bag and shucking off your jacket, coming to stand beside him. You ask about what he’s cooking, and he talks you through each step, the ingredients he’s used, and finally, blessedly, tells you it’ll be ready in five minutes.

You eat across the table from each other in quiet, easy conversation. Even with it all so new, with so many of his unpacked boxes still dotted around the flat, it feels like Frankie has always been here.

You wash and dry the plates side by side, laughing and happy and full. You retreat to your respective bedrooms to change into your pyjamas, and then you prop your door open for Frankie to come join you if he’d like. You flick on an episode of Adventure Time and dig around in your bedside table for your rolling stuff, sitting cross-legged and giggling at the cartoon as you grind, arrange, and roll the joint.

Your roommate appears in the doorframe, arms folded across his chest.

‘Come in,’ you say, beckoning him closer, shuffling on the bed to make room for him. He eyes the spliff in your hand. ‘Wanna join?’ You ask. He hesitates.

‘Just a little.’

You nod, stretching off the bed towards the window, grabbing your lighter from the ledge. You flick it to life as Frankie watches from the bed, your legs bare below your sleep shorts, your nipples hard beneath your t-shirt in the cool night air. You jerk your head at him as you exhale, and he crawls over the bed towards you. You try not to think of the way he moves as you hand it to him.

Frankie puffs from the joint a couple times, and passes it back to you. You continue the routine until there’s nothing left, finishing the last couple of tokes before flicking the roach onto the street below.

‘What do ya wanna do?’ You ask him, closing the window. Frankie’s settled back on your bed amongst your pillows. He frowns at the ceiling.

‘Watch a movie.’ He says, and you giggle at the tacky sound of his speech.

‘Come on then, buddy,’ you say, taking his hand and pulling him from the mattress. ‘We’ll watch it on the sofa. You need some water,’ you sing, leading him towards the kitchen. ‘And we’re gonna need snacks.’

Frankie chuckles at the way you say it, a faux accent twanging at your words. He lets you push him down onto the sofa and watches you dopily as you busy yourself with refreshments. You dump everything on the coffee table before turning on the TV.

‘Help yourself,’ you say, gesturing to your stash, and Frankie leans forward in slow motion to grab a can of coke. You giggle at him. ‘What do you wanna watch?’

Frankie cracks the can open and shrugs.

‘Don’t mind.’

You think for a moment, roving through Netflix before slapping his arm.

‘Oh my god!’ You laugh. ‘Notting Hill. We’ll watch Notting Hill. Holy fuck, it’s so bad when you’re stoned, you have no idea.’

Frankie groans beside you, leaning forward again to grab a bag of chocolate pretzels. He rips them open and offers one to you.

‘Whatever you say, boss.’ He smiles.

Halfway through the film, Frankie’s eyes begin to seriously droop. You can’t blame him. It must have been a long day.

When his head drops to your shoulder, you let him cuddle in. He stays there for a while, but when he wakes with a start at the soreness, you manoeuvre him to turn and lay with his head on your lap. He’s pliant and soft in your hands, sighing with relief as he settles. You run a hand through his curls, scratching at his scalp, twisting strands gently around your finger. You stroke and scratch absentmindedly, watching Hugh Grant’s dramatic confession, only remembering what you’re doing when a deep snore resonates from below you.

You look down to find Frankie sound asleep, peaceful face turned up towards you. You admire his silky hair, the scruff of his beard, the heart shaped patch on the side of his face. His soft, full bottom lip, strong nose, the slope and sweep of his brow. You smile at him, something stirring in your belly.

‘Little baby cow.’ You murmur to yourself, and bite your lip to keep from smiling any wider.

---

The first weekend you have off together comes weeks after Frankie moves in.

You have a long, cosy lie in before running your respective errands in the morning, planning to reconvene in the afternoon with food and movies and your other favourite pastime.

By some miracle, you get home before Frankie, and unload your bag of snacks and oven food onto the kitchen table. You’re just organising it, putting away what needs to be in the fridge, when Frankie steps through the front door with a crate of soda and your favourite flowers in his other hand.

‘Hey,’ he grins at you, kicking the door shut before stepping into the room and holding out the blooms. ‘These are for you.’

You take the flowers carefully, admiring the colours, the form, the texture. You look back at him with shining eyes, and Frankie blushes.

‘How did you -’

He shrugs, moving to put the soda in the fridge. With his back to you, he says -

‘You mentioned them once, ‘bout a week after I moved in.’

Your heart melts a little, touched at the care, the thought.

‘Just thought, ya know - don’t need an occasion. Sometimes it’s just nice to pick something up and say I thought of you.’

You blush at his words, just as he turns back around and spots on the table -

‘Holy shit,’ he says, picking up the chocolate covered pretzels. ‘I was just thinking of these! I didn't get any while I was out and they’re my -’ He looks up at you, a knowing smile creeping across his lips.

‘Your favourite,’ you say. ‘I saw them and thought of you.’

Frankie laughs, stepping forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

‘Dream fuckin’ team.’ He says.

You’re both back in your pyjamas within ten minutes, sat on Frankie’s bed, a joint on the bedside table ready to go.

He flicks through the home screen of his Playstation, settling on Red Dead Redemption 2, starting up the game as you lean out his window to dispel the first stream of smoke. You pass it back and forth between you, and when it’s done Frankie chucks the roach in his bin. You climb underneath the duvet and watch Arthur Morgan’s adventures through hooded eyes, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. He’s warm and solid beneath you, and you wrap your hands around his arm, breathing him in. You watch in rapt fascination as he tracks down carvings in the mountains, giggle and scold him when he barrels down the wrong side of the roads, and swat at him when his horse gets hit by a train. He loads back up his previous save to get her back, and you visit a time traveller, hunt for vampires in Saint Denis, and squeal when a UFO appears over an abandoned hut filled with rotted bodies. He tells you the stories of the characters in a spaced out slur, and you immerse yourself in the sunshine, the rain, the snow, the mists. You close your eyes to the sounds of hooves, of birds, of nature, of Frankie’s strong heartbeat and his deep breathing.

At some point in the evening, you wake again, sitting and stretching. Frankie smiles sleepily down at you.

‘I’m gonna head to bed in a bit.’ He says, and you smile at him, kneading your neck.

‘No worries,’ you mumble. ‘I’ll head to mine, too. Catch you in the morning.’

Frankie fist bumps you as you stumble towards the door.

‘Thanks for hanging out.’ He says. You snort at him before opening the door.

‘No worries, Fish,’ you say, ‘I’m sure I was great company.’

He grins back, and you blow a kiss before snicking the door shut.

Your own sheets are blissfully cool, and you turn on a little quiet music to get yourself off to sleep. The soft, slow jangle of guitars and low voices do the trick, and if you turn your head just so, you can still smell Frankie on your pyjama top.

---

When you come through to the kitchen the next morning, Frankie is already cooking breakfast. He looks cosy in his old Lakers top and sweats that only just cling to his hips. It tightens something in your belly.

‘I’m making eggs and bacon,’ he says, before gesturing with a spatula to the percolator. ‘There’s coffee over there if you want some.’

‘You tryna seduce me or something?’ You ask, waggling your eyebrows. Frankie laughs at you, gorgeous little crows feet crinkling in the corners of his eyes. You have to look away quickly to hide your own gooey expression.

‘No,’ he says, voice grappling with something of an edge - laughter, a little teasing, ‘I’m not in the business of fucking my friends.’ You flash your eyes back to him, eyebrows raised in surprise, and he’s peering at you from below his eyelashes, biting his lip. A grin blows out across your cheeks, and you bite your lip back.

‘Unfortunately for you, I am,’ you sigh, sweeping your hand across the edge of the kitchen table before glancing at him, his attention turned back to breakfast. ‘Santi still single?’

Frankie freezes over the eggs he’s cooking. He looks up at you slowly. Your heart dips in your chest, legs flooding with the feeling that you’ve definitely said the wrong thing.

‘Are you - are you… interested?’

You feel your cheeks heat.

‘I -’ you rub your face, trying to organise your thoughts. Frankie feels something like a freight train headed towards him. ‘No,’ You say, turning fully towards him, smiling a little. ‘No, I’m not. He’s great - he’s a lovely guy, but no.’

Frankie nods, once, twice, before staring back down at the yellow in the pan. He can’t remember what he was doing. Frying or scrambling? They’re too far gone now. He’ll have to try and pass them off as an omelette.

‘It was a stupid joke.’ You mumble, and Frankie shakes his head at the pan.

‘No, no,’ he says, ‘I just, ya know, if you were -’

You smile at him.

‘You’d set me up?’

Frankie shrugs. You smirk.

‘Well then. If you’re patient, sugar, I might make my way through everyone. Finish with you, of course, make sure we last a little longer.’

Frankie’s head whips up, jaw dropped. He breathes your name, and you laugh.

‘My god, Fish. I’m kidding.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ Frankie laughs, relieved, disappointed. You dance around the kitchen table towards him, reaching out your hands to squish his cheeks, chanting got ya, got ya, as Frankie curls the dish cloth from over his shoulder to whip you with it.

You shriek and leap out of his way, running from him.

Frankie makes no move to follow you, turning off the stove instead, plating up the eggs and bacon. You’re still giggling at him, now armed with a dish cloth of your own. He points at you with the spatula.

‘Sit.’ He says, and you laugh again, taking a seat as Frankie brings over the plates and cutlery. As he settles, you leap up. Frankie watches you.

‘Where are you going?’ He says, spearing some egg with his fork. You return to the table with two mugs of coffee.

‘Can’t forget the most important part of the meal.’ You say, sitting and slurping loudly, winking at him over the ceramic.

Frankie laughs at you through a mouthful of food.

‘You coming to Will’s tonight?’ He asks, swallowing.

You hum a little.

‘Yeah, guess so.’ You say.

‘Boys’ll be there,’ he says, ‘So you’ll know a few faces. Not sure who else.’

You nod, shovelling bacon into your mouth. Frankie smiles.

‘Sure,’ you say, ‘I’ll come.’

That night, you find yourselves round at Will’s again. What was supposed to be a relatively quiet poker night has inevitably turned into too many people drinking too much booze, but he never seems to mind.

Frankie is back leaning on the sofa, listening to Santi and Will talk. He’s laughing, thinking he should go and grab you in a minute - he doesn’t know how many of these stories you’ve heard, but he’s sure you’d enjoy them. He has a compulsion to watch you laugh, to see you enjoy the people around you, to feel the shine of your company, to see the way you look at him, eyes dancing with amusement, always as though there is some kind of joke you’re thinking of that only he will understand.

When he looks around the living room, he can’t find you. It’s not unusual. He knows by now that you’ll be off chatting to whoever is lucky enough to find you, and he finds himself moving in the direction of the kitchen, pushing through the door beads. When he doesn’t see you in there, he catches Benny at the sink, asking if he’s seen you.

‘Sure,’ he says, ‘I was just with her. She’s out on the porch swing.’

A muscle flexes in Frankie’s jaw as he moves away from Benny, that familiar creep of possessiveness crawling up his throat. Stupid, stupid. He’s already asked him, knows that he wants nothing from you. So why does it irritate him so much?

You’re outside on the swing just like Benny said, gazing up at the stars as Frankie slumps down beside you. He bounces the chair, and you giggle at him.

‘Having a good time?’ You ask. He nods.

‘Yeah. You?’

You nod, tilting your face to look at him. Frankie doesn’t know when he decided it, but he’s sure your eyes are the prettiest he’s ever seen. He loves the way they shine out at him now in the glow of the porchlight, warm and kind and soft. That sunny feeling he gets as he watches you moves something silken and deep within him, something lonely.

I was just with her. Unfortunately for you, I am -

‘What?’ You say softly.

‘Nothin’,’ he shrugs. ‘Just glad I met you.’

You scoff lightly at him, knocking your head against his shoulder.

‘Glad I met you, too, sugar.’ You murmur, and when Frankie meets your eye, his breath seizes in his lungs.

You are so close.

Your eyes dart between his own and his mouth, lingering on the shape of his lips, the flecks of grey in his moustache. He can’t move as you lean closer to him, as you ghost two fingers over his wrist. Your eyes are burning, teasing, curious as he stares down at your lips, soft and inviting, curved around so many wonderful words, wrapped around the end of a joint or a beer bottle -

‘There you are,’ Will says, bursting through the back door. You startle away from Frankie, and he feels dizzy at the change, at the rush of what was about to happen. The warm press of your body against his. ‘C’mon,’ says Will, ‘We’ve got a poker game to win.’

You watch as Frankie hauls himself away from you, settling back in the swinging chair. When the door shuts behind the two men, you press a hand to your chest, feeling the rattle of your heartbeat.

---

You wake as though through fog, to a noise you can’t quite place.

It’s quiet, but almost right by your head. A slick, rhythmic sound, heavy breaths, quiet groans, curses. Through slipping sleep, you process them, too tired to be embarrassed, to be thinking straight. The sounds of Frankie jerking off go straight to your core, and you can feel yourself growing wetter and wetter as you listen, as you slip your hand beneath the elastic of your panties and join him, careful to muffle your own sounds to hear him better.

You become frantic as he grows louder, as he mutters to himself, as his bed moves just enough to squeak. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as he looses a particularly loud fuck, and then a strangely familiar word, followed by a long, low groan. You come hard on your fingers, panting as the heat subsides, as you hear Frankie leave his room and head to the bathroom.

Languid and liquid in the sunbeams on your blankets, it takes you longer than it should to decipher what you’d heard. Longer than it should to wonder if it really was your name he’d gasped as he came.

Frankie needs air.

He needs to get out of the apartment, so while he’s drinking his morning coffee, he drafts up a list of things to do. Parcels to return, small things to buy, a new coffee shop he’d like to try out. Anything to try and clear you out his head. The feel of your body pressed against his on the seat, the ghosting of your fingers on the inside of his wrist, the flame in your eyes. The way you’d jumped when Will found you, whether you meant it, whether he was imagining it, what he was going to do, what he was not going to do -

You shuffle into the kitchen still in your pyjamas, stifling a yawn behind a hand. You help yourself to coffee from the percolator, and Frankie tells you he’s heading out. You nod and give him a squeeze, saying you’re off to the gym, anyway. Frankie tries not to think of how your ass looks in your blue leggings, and sets off down the stairwell.

He stays out for as long as possible, breathing in the fresh, spring air, looking into shop windows and petting passing dogs. He only decides to call it a day when his stomach starts growling and his feet start aching.

He feels good, energised.

Maybe he should get out more often.

Frankie shuts the front door gently behind him, placing his keys in the bowl. He says your name, only half expecting a reply. You didn’t say when you were heading out, or when you’d be back.

He yanks his boots off by the shoe rack you set up last week, and tucks them away neatly. His feet carry him towards the kitchen, fingers itching to hold a cup of coffee and sandwich before a soft sound stops him. His heart leaps in his throat, and he freezes, not daring to take another step.

He registers the soft sound of the running shower, and anticipation lodges itself in his belly. He waits, heart hammering in his chest, and almost moves before he definitely, definitely hears it again.

You moan softly on the other side of the bathroom door, and Frankie’s eyes flutter shut.

He should go. He should absolutely go, but he can see from here in the hallway that the bathroom door is open just a crack. And he has always been a flawed person, which is why it doesn’t surprise him that when he goes to shut it, to knock, to move past, he can’t keep himself from looking. Can’t stop his eyes from finding you, back against the tile, hair dripping down your shoulders, water spattering across your skin as you stand with your legs apart, one hand spreading you open, fingers moving fast across your clit. Frankie grips onto the door handle as his eyes close again.

Because he knows what’s about to happen. Hot shame floods through him as his cock hardens embarrassingly fast, a thin ringing in his ears as he opens his eyes again, takes in the soft flesh of your thighs, the flow of water, the rivulets tracing your skin, your glistening core, the way your fingers move so desperately -

And Frankie can see it, can feel it, can taste it when he imagines opening the door and climbing there with you, not giving you a chance to be surprised before he sinks to his knees and replaces your hand with his mouth.

With shaking fingers, he unbuttons his jeans, unzips his fly, and begins to stroke his cock.

He has no idea how long you’ve been in there for, but he watches closely, ravenously for your tells. It’s not gonna take him long, but he wants to watch you fall apart first.

He watches you move your weight so you slump a little lower on the wall, a harsh gasp leaving your lips. He watches as your hips twitch and roll forwards as you slow your pace, rubbing harder instead of faster, and he barely contains his own moan as you whine, high-pitched and needy, echoing off the walls. He watches your tummy clench with each stroke of your fingers, stares with drooling amazement as you snake a hand up your body to grasp and play with your tits, squeezing them, rolling your nipples between your fingers, pinching them as hard as you can. Frankie grunts when you gasp out a fuck, and for a long, heart clenching second, he thinks you hear him. You slow your movements, trying to peer through the dark crack in the door.

Frankie can’t move, can’t stop fisting his cock as he watches you, precum dripping through his fingers, the dirty thrill of getting caught spurring him on.

You listen carefully, turning your head to the side to see if you can catch any more noises. Satisfied you’re still alone, you continue, this time quickly finding a pace which Frankie can tell will send you off the edge. Your wet skin, the slick sounds of your fingers even over the running water, and your moans, gasps, curses, getting even louder.

Frankie stares still, enraptured by the goddess in front of him unravelling herself, and he wants nothing more than to touch you, taste you, smell you. He tries not to think of what he’d give to be inside you, but a soft moan escapes him anyway. Imagining the clench of your warm, wet cunt, hearing you make those noises for him, the slip of your wet skin in his grasp, your tits in his hands, the bite of your teeth on his shoulder sends him rocketing to his orgasm. He barely has time to wrap the bottom of his t-shirt around his cock, biting his fist as he empties himself, opening his eyes just in time to watch your body spasm and clench, your back arch, your head knock against the tiles as you cry out oh fuck, oh fuck, oh god.

Once you finish riding it out, whimpering and twitching, you close your eyes and breathe heavily. Frankie feels feverish, head tipping forwards onto the door frame as he tucks himself gently back into his boxers and pulls his jeans back up. He takes one last breath before a short, shrill beep echoes throughout the apartment.

Your eyes snap to the door again as you jump, and Frankie flinches, slowly backing away as you cock your head at the gap. Beep. Frankie can feel his pulse in his ears as he reaches the front door with soft treads, managing to open it quietly through his blind panic just as you turn the shower off. He slams it shut, calling your name from the entryway, cringing at the breaking huskiness of his voice. He waits a few seconds as though he’s taking off his shoes before running to his room, hearing the snick of the bathroom door closing just as his shuts behind him.

Frankie leans against the wood, forcing short breaths in and out his nose. Beep.

The smoke detector again, on the other side of the door. It shocks him back to life as he rips his shirt off, stuffing it deep in his laundry hamper before scrambling for a new one, praying to whatever god is out there that you hadn’t just caught him in such an obvious lie. That you hadn’t just caught him jerking off to you masturbating in the shower.

Frankie leaves his room as quickly as possible, knowing that the longer he stays in there the more likely it is you’ll know something is wrong. He yanks the door open, stepping out into the hallway, stopping to listen on the hardwood floor. There’s not a peep from the rest of the flat, but the door to the bathroom is now wide open, small tendrils of steam slipping out into the hallway. Frankie takes a deep breath and steps lightly down the hallway to the kitchen, intent on coffee this time, on something to distract him, something to do with his hands. Beep.

He works on autopilot as he pours the grounds into the percolator, throwing up a mental wall every time a glimmer of your body passes through his mind. When he sets it over the stove top he grips the counter, shoulders hunched, chewing his cheek as he breathes heavily through his nose. This time, the beep of the smoke detector makes him jump, and he swipes a hand over his mouth.

‘We need to change the batteries in that.’ You say, and Frankie flinches as you breeze past him into the kitchen. He can’t look at you, shame and arousal colouring his neck, all the way up to the tips of his ears. He makes a noise in his throat, and you shoot him a look over your shoulder.

‘You okay?’ You ask. He swings his eyes to you, and you look back at him the same as always. Warm, kind. You can’t know. You must be oblivious, and somehow that makes it worse.

‘Yeah,’ he says, and tries to smile, ‘Just need a coffee.’

His eyes try not to linger on your body, try not to linger on your lips, your hands. He grips the countertop harder. Stop it. Stop thinking about it.

You smile back at him.

‘If you’re sure,’ you say, sidling closer, laying a hand on his shoulder. You squeeze and wink up at him. ‘Can you make me one? I’m exhausted.’

Frankie tries to muffle his sharp intake of air with a cough. I’m exhausted. How long had you been in there? Had you even been to the gym? Or had you just spent the morning grinding and moaning and coming -

��Sure.’ He croaks, and you frown at him.

‘You’re really feeling okay?’ You ask, bringing the back of your hand to his forehead. ‘Might be coming down with something. Tired and coughing.’

He shakes his head a little too enthusiastically.

‘No, I’m fine.’ He says, interrupted only by the beep of the smoke alarm. You pull a face at it, and he moves to take the coffee off the stove.

‘Go get the ladder,’ he says, ‘And I’ll change the batteries.’

You swish out of the kitchen, and Frankie scrubs his face with his hands, groaning out a god before taking two mugs from the cupboard and filling them. He’s just finished pouring in the creamer when you struggle back through the doorway, huffing under the weight of the stepladder.

‘Coffee’s there.’ He says, jerking his head in the direction of the mugs as he takes it from you. Frankie sets it up under the detector, stepping up the first couple of rungs before you stand in front of him. He quirks an eyebrow at you, and you tighten your hands around the ladder’s sides, holding it steady.

‘Don’t want you doing any damage to yourself.’ You say softly.

Frankie nods and continues climbing, trying not to think of how close you are. He focuses as he reaches the ceiling, stretching up to unscrew the device.

You swallow as you’re exposed to the slither of skin the action reveals, golden in the afternoon light, and the dark hair which trails down, down, below the waistline of his jeans.

‘Take it for me.’ He says from above you, and you drag your eyes away to meet his, flushing as you reach up to grab the alarm, fingers brushing. You watch as Frankie’s gaze darkens, as he takes you in, flushed, lips bitten, standing at the perfect height. The greedy way you’d been looking at his stomach, water, thighs, fingers -

‘Thank you.’ He says, and you take the detector away to replace the batteries, your fingers shaking. Frankie watches you hungrily, the curve of your jeans, the slope of your neck when you flick your hair behind you. He’s still watching when you turn back to him and hand him the device.

‘Good girl.’ He says. Heat rushes through you at the words, your breath catching in your throat. Frankie’s movements falter only slightly before he’s reaching up again to screw the detector back in. You stare at his belly, the coarse hair, and try to think of anything but nuzzling your nose against the skin, breathing him in, unbuttoning his jeans, taking his cock in your mouth, thinking about what he’d look like, what he’d feel like, what he’d taste like, whether it would be as good as what you’d imagined in the shower -

Frankie steps down from the ladder, prizing your hands off the metal, folding it shut and carrying it back out the room.

‘All done.’ He says.

You run a hand through your hair, pinching the bridge of your nose. Jesus.

You take a seat at the dining room table, and when Frankie joins you, you drink your coffee in near silence.

At work, later that evening, you shut yourself in the bathroom during your break. You bite your lip so hard it bleeds when you make yourself come, embarrassingly quick, to thoughts of what might have happened if you’d kissed Frankie’s stomach on the ladder. The uncomfortable ache in your core barely sated, your panties soaked, you try to do anything to distract yourself for the rest of the shift. Anything to keep your hands busy.

And in his bed, later that night, when he’s sure you must be asleep, Frankie takes his cock in his hand again. It doesn’t take him long, guiltily indulging in what he’d seen from the crack in the bathroom door. He comes with a quiet groan and a whisper of your name, wishing that you were there to lick the salt off his chest.

He falls asleep to thoughts of you, like he has done from the night you met.

---

A week passes, and Frankie's pretty sure he's going insane.

He can’t shower without picturing the way you had stood there, moaning and gasping. He can’t stop thinking of the way you had looked at him on the ladder, the way you’d looked at him sat on Will’s porch. He has to jerk off at least twice a day, and aside from it being a fucking inconvenience, he’s beginning to feel like a creep.

He thinks he needs to get laid.

There’s a girl you work with - Tasha - who gave Frankie her number not long after you started living together. She was pretty, nice enough, but Frankie hadn’t been looking for anything, and he certainly didn’t want to shit where you ate. But he texts her anyway. It’s late and sleazy, but she says yes. They meet at a bar, and when they stumble through the front door, you’re already home.

You’re sprawled out on your bed, a joint already rolled, leftovers from work in the fridge, ready to hunker down and fill Frankie in on your day, ready to hear him tell you about his, watch some shit on the television. Tonight felt like a David Attenborough night.

You jump as the front door bangs open, as two sets of feet come tumbling in. Your heart beats loudly in your chest at the noise, at the intrusion, unsure whether you should leap up to defend your roommate or hide. Then you hear the wet sounds of kissing, the low mumble of Frankie’s words, a high-pitched laugh you recognise as the front door shuts and Frankie’s opens.

You wait with baited breath, somehow unable to believe what is happening. Your fingers flutter on your chest, anxiously pressing the skin there.

Frankie’s never brought anyone home before. You don’t quite know what to do with yourself.

You’ve also never quite thought about how thin the wall is between your bedroom and his.

The realisation makes your skin flush, heated even more when you hear the mumbles and groans from the other side of the wall. Frankie saying something in a language you don’t understand, and Tasha’s breathy reply.

You don’t know how long you listen for, frozen on your mattress as you listen to the creak of Frankie’s bed, the whines and moans falling from them. The low timber of Frankie’s speech sinks itself into the centre of your body, heating and melting. You close your eyes as you try to pick out what he’s saying, as you listen for his panting breaths, his low moans. You can feel your underwear growing wet with slick, your body tightening - hot - and then Tasha cries out.

The sound shocks you from your reverie, shame, annoyance imploring your body to move. You raise up on your knees and pound your fist against the wall. Everything falls silent.

You breathe deeply for a moment before Frankie says something quietly, answered only by Tasha’s low giggle. Your tongue feels like ash in your throat as they both say a couple more things, more laughs pouring through the wall before you’re up, pulling on a hoodie over your tank top, leaving your room.

There’s another shock of silence as Frankie and Tasha hear you moving, but you’re already pulling your trainers on. You can hear Frankie say something on the other side of his door, can hear it getting louder as he moves towards it, but you’re slamming the front door closed before he can intercept you.

Your Uber ride is quiet, seething. You chew your lip, clench and unclench your fists. Your phone buzzes in your grip several times, but you don’t check it.

When you reach the low, suburban house with the cacti out front, you waste no time worrying about whether you look pretty enough. Because he’s always said you are on the nights when he’s had too much to drink.

You should know better before you raise your hand to knock. But you don’t spare a second thought as your knuckles rap against the wood. You shut down all other thoughts as the door swings open, him knowing exactly when to expect you as soon as you’d called. Something about military training and timing.

‘Hey.’ Benny says, standing in the doorway, moving aside to let you pass.

‘Hey.’ You smile back at him as you step into his house, toeing off your trainers, stripping yourself of your hoodie.

Benny eyes you hungrily as you stand before him in your tank top. You feel the heat coil in your belly again as he steps towards you, the slick in your underwear pooling as he kisses you hard and hot and open mouthed, as you tangle your hands in his hair, as you scratch at the bare skin of his hip beneath his top. You moan against him when you feel him already hard at your stomach.

‘Bed.’ He growls.

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal x reader #peach pit #tommy's party #you and your friends #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #Spotify

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thek1ngtalks · 2 years

Text

Meeting...

Percy Jackson

Youre a bit of an oddball in camp. You were 15 when you were found, completely by accident. A saytr protecting another kid ran into you and that's the only reason he noticed you were a demigod.

You're,,, painfully normal, actually. Which, in a world of demigods and monsters, is in itself weird.

Being normal isn't a bad thing though. It's kept you and your parent safe, which is why they didn't put you on an immediate evac out to camp.

Sadly, your no monster streak was ruined as a frizzy red headed girl and a boy who looked like he tried to skate as a job while graffiting walls on the weekend broke into the band room you were trying to practice in

Great way to start off your highschool years, I assure you.

The redhead gives you a once over but deems you unimportant and starts trying to wedge herself between the wall and a bass drum.

The skater glanced between you and the red head before reluctantly joining her, hiding behind a bunch of bongos. They start whispering to each other, though it fails since you're pretty sure the red head's never whispered before

Your face pinches as you listen to them talk and like any normal person, you assume they're both crazy. Greek myths, what a joke.

Then, as the skater boy is about to reveal whatever big secret he's keeping, two cheerleaders step into the room. You vaguely remember them welcoming you in, although they called you a fish and stared at you funny.

Blah blah, they attack you, the skater boy– who the evil vampire ladies conveniently tell you the name of, Percy saves you both and then the school is on fire. Whoops?

Anyways, Percy brings you with him to camp, very shortly shows you around before things start getting crazy. Some centaur dude is on trial, Percy leaves for a quest and is dead for a little before he crashes his own funeral, overall a weird couple weeks.

After hiding in the Apollo cabin during the fight, handing things to the healers as they work, things seem to settle for a little.

He does come to see you to apologize for not being a very good guide and offers to show you a more detailed, and far more fun, intro to camp

That's when you start getting to know Percy more. His quirks, his skills, even his odd love of blue food.

He seems to seek you out often, answering only once that it's because you make everything so average.

You realize that with Percy's luck, everything is in extremes. When you're around though, he gets a break. If you can give him even a few minutes of peace, you don't really mind him calling you average (okay you still kinda do)

When you both inevitably start dating, no one's surprised. A few seemed disappointed they lost the apparent bet on Percy's love life, but no one was shocked considering how much Percy doted on you when you were around.

He also called you his good luck charm more than a few times, especially when you weren't around

Nico Di Angelo

You were a young mortal, emphasis on were. You had been a follower of the Chthonic Gods and with a life devoted to them, you got a bit of a cushy death.

You became a servant to Persephone, who had only needed a few extra hands temporarily and didn't care to dismiss you when things calmed down again. Obviously you don't remember much of your life but you were living a good death, so you weren't upset.

You had become an almost right-hand to her majesty, still a strong devote to her husband gave you a bit of a leg up in that regard.

And as her right-hand, she often gave you tasks she knew you could handle, you just weren't expecting to have to take care of a dandelion.

It definitely isn't one of the harder tasks she's had you do but it is more confusing. She had expressed that if one petal were to fall from it, Hades himself would send you to Tartarus, which is definitely NOT on your To Do List, so you've wisely took them to heart

You made sure to take it with you everywhere, taking care to keep the soil moist and talking to it often. You're not sure if it's helping but not a single petal has fallen yet, so you're positive that you're doing something right.

It's only after two weeks of this schedule that Persephone calls you to her room and tells you to bring the plant. Of course you listen

You're more than a little embarrassed when she turned the dandelion back into a broody teen, one who refuses to look back at you as he begins arguing with Persephone

Persephone dismisses you and the brooding boy takes that as his cue to leave with you, still avoiding your face

He thanks you for taking such good care of him and offers his name —Nico— but nothing else before he shadowtravels away

Over the next few weeks you find small trinkets from the overworld left in your room, in the spot you had left Nico's dandelion form.

After a month of this, you are walking with Persephone as she heads to her garden and are faced with 3 demigods

Your eyes meet Nico's and he seems embarrassed again before he begins arguing with Persephone again

You are ordered to help them navigate the underworld in search for Hades's newest symbol of power and Nico actually starts looking at you, talking to you, and being normal

He's quite nice and he doesn't seem to hold anything against you, which is nice. You get along a lot better when he can actually respond and after retrieving the sword, you ask Nico to drop his gifts off in person so that you can actually see him more.

It's barely a few years later when Nico leads you out of the Underworld in the midst of Thanatos being missing, apparently having already gotten Persephone's permission but oddly tight-lipped about how (he coughs up petals for a week)

As a human you begin aging again with small parts of your past coming back. Nico is delighted when you remember your name and makes sure to say it to you at least once a day in case you ever forget it again.

You follow him wherever he goes, even to Tartarus, and all of his friends are surprised when you announce your dating, only because they thought you already were

Nico has apparently been horribly obvious in his adoration of you and you're much the same

{《☆》}

[I was supposed to write a platonic soulmate shortfic with like 10 characters and accidentally wrote this instead. Congrats, I guess. (I'm still gonna write the other one, you can't stop me)]

[L0v3, k1ng]

#k1ng writes #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x male reader #percy jackson x gn reader #percy x reader #nico di angelo x reader #nico di angelo x male reader #nico di angelo x gn reader #nico x reader #nico di angelo

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domnamewoman · 5 months

Note

You know I've always wonder if the characters meet with a teen reader (platonic relationship) who can control elements. They found her by accident and saw her like catching fish using her water bending.

(sorry if I disturbing you. Please do tell me anything if I broke a rule or something because I'm trying my best to find your rule book)

PS love your Mortal Kombat :3

Title: Little Elements

Summary: You are a teen Elemental who is just trying to survive and find your mom after a mysterious sorcerer abducts her and banishes you to Earthrealm. One day while you are trying to catch dinner, you are ambushed by random men who believe you are the one terrorizing Earthrealm.

Warnings: Teen!GN!Reader, Canon-Typical Violence

Word Count: 1,479

Masterlist

Requests Are Open

What are you going to do? You can survive on your own, sure, but for how long? Who can you even ask for help? You don’t know anyone in this realm and from what you’ve been told, most Earthrealmers don’t even know about Outworld and its inhabitants. How can they help you find your way back, let alone your mom?

Your mom… right.

That bastard! As soon as you find him, he’s dead! You’ll make him pay for what he did to you and your mother. You’ll make him regret underestimating you and reducing your mother to nothing more than a puppet. When you find him you’ll… you’ll…

How will you find him though? You don’t even know his name. Thanks to him you are stranded in Earthrealm. You let out a frustrated sigh. You aren’t powerful enough to open a portable to get back to Outworld. Is there anyone here who is? How can you find them?

You angrily kick a rock and watch it tumble into the river in front of you as a wave of helplessness washes over you. You shake your head to clear it and take a calming breath. You’re no good to your mom if you’re frazzled and drained.

You’ll figure out a plan later, for now, you’ll focus on getting something to eat so you don’t starve to death before you can.

You stand at the bank of the river and let the sounds of nature calm you. The rushing of water downstream. The chirping of the birds’ morning song. The rustling of the wind passing through leaves. It’s almost enough to fool you into believing you are out for a recreational trek through the woods and not stranded all alone.

Raising your hands, you search for the ball of energy stored at the center of your chest and feel it unravel. It begins to spread across your chest, down your arms, and rest in your palms. You move your hands from left to right and watch as the river’s water swirls up into the air.

You parse through the water using your water bending to search for fish and wash them ashore. You are able to find three smallmouth basses and decide they are enough sustenance for today. You bend down to collect them when you feel the air suddenly become charged around you.

Whipping around, your eyes land on four men standing at the tree line. One of them shoots out his hand and a bolt of lightning comes flying toward you. You narrowly manage to dive out of the way and the bolt zaps the spot you were just in.

You feel heat erupt from your chest and plunge down your arms as flames engulf your hands.

“Who are you!?” You question as you take a defensive stance.

“Earthrealm’s Protectors.” The one wearing a razor-rimmed hat declares.

Before you have a chance to process this, another bolt of lightning is making its way to you. Unfortunately, this time you are unable to move out of the way fast enough and fall to the ground as your body shakes in pain.

After the shock subsides, you roll onto your hands and knees. Your breath is nothing but gasps as you try to get air into your lungs. How dare these people attack you unprovoked! Earthrealm’s Protectors? You aren’t doing anything harmful! All you are trying to do is get something to eat. What is their deal? It doesn't matter, you will return the favor of attacking first and asking questions later.

Resting both palms flat against the ground, you force energy through them and the ground begins to violently shake. The men are thrown off balance and it is just the distraction you need to execute an attack.

Throwing your hands out in quick succession, you send several fireballs hurling toward them. You watch as the four men jump around in an effort to dodge the onslaught.

“Now that wasn’t very nice, Hotshot.” One of them says while removing his sunglasses.

Your eyes roll as you scoff. “You’re one to talk. I can still feel the aftershocks from Sir Zaps-a-lot over there.”

“Sir Zaps-a-lot?” Asks the one wearing a… blindfold? Strange.

“Yes! He electrocuted me for no reason!”

“You appear to be no older than 14. Why are you here terrorizing Earthrealm?” Sir Zaps-a-lot asks.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m 15, thank you very much. Also, how is fishing terrorizing anyone!? I was just trying to get something to eat and you attacked me completely unprovoked!”

“Unprovoked? You have been going around causing earthquakes, fires, floods, and tornados in highly populated areas. You have killed innocent Earthrealmers and destroyed many people’s homes and livelihoods! Yet you claim you are innocent?” Razorhead bellows.

“How… I-I can’t do that!”

“Um… listen, Hotshot. We just watched you fish without a fishing rod. Not to mention the fireballs and mini earthquake you used on us. You definitely can do that.” Explains Sunglasses.

“Exactly! Mini earthquake. I can’t make one powerful enough to destroy people’s homes like you’ve said.”

The men stare at you and from their expressions you can tell they don’t believe you.

“Seriously, it wasn’t me!”

“There are not too many others who possess powers like you here.” Mr. See-no-evil states.

How are your powers uncommon? Stupid powerless Earthrealmers!

“Whatever, that still doesn’t change the fact that I’m not strong enough to create earthquakes, floods, or tornados on a scale large enough to destroy homes. I’m still in training!”

“Training by who?” Sir Zaps-a-lot inquires.

“By my mo-”

Why didn’t you think of this sooner? You know someone who is powerful enough to cause damage on a scale these men speak of. Someone who is currently under the hypnosis of a deranged sorcerer. You have to find her!

“Where did these attacks take place?” You ask as you take a step forward.

“Wait a minute Hotshot, who is your trainer?”

“My mother.” You began to pace. “About a week ago, some crazy sorcerer came to our house. I-I think my mom knew him? I had seen him talking to her before. Anyway, the day he showed up at our house he was acting all crazy. T-Then he did some weird magic hypno stuff and put my mom under some sort of spell. She would only listen to him no matter what I did. She was basically his puppet. He opened a portal and forced me to Earthrealm so I wouldn’t get in the way of his plans. I bet he’s using her to do all of the stuff you said. That bastard!”

“Okay, okay, calm down. You said your mother was taken by the sorcerer?” Mr. See-no-evil walks forward, stopping a few feet away from you.

“Yes! I know you have a blindfold on, but do you also have earplugs?”

“There is no need to get testy.”

“Can it, Razorhead!”

“Pfft… Razorhead.” Sunglasses chuckles under his breath.

“My name is Kung Lao, and that is not the attitude one should have when asking for help.”

“Asking for help? Who needs your help?”

“You do. How do you intend to find your mother? Are you going to take on the sorcerer by yourself? My name is Raiden, by the way.”

Dang it, they’re right!

“Fine, I’m sorry. You’re right, there’s no way I can beat him by myself. What am I going to do?” You drop your head in defeat.

Sunglasses walks up to you and throws his arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. We won’t leave you to face him all alone. We fight for the weak. That’s what Earthrealm’s Protectors are all about.”

“I’m not weak,” You grumble, resisting the urge to elbow him in the side.

“What he means is, we will help you find your mom and take down this insidious sorcerer.” Kung Lao promises.

“We will take you to Wu Shi and inform our leader Liu Kang of your situation,” Raiden adds.

“But we don’t have time for that. We have to find my mom.” You are starting to get impatient now that you know there is a possibility your mother is here in Earthrealm.

“We will, but we need to make a plan. Plus you have been out here in the woods by yourself for a while. You look like you could use some rest… and some food.” Mr. See-no-evil pointedly nods toward the three fish on the ground you caught earlier.

Just then your stomach decides to remind you just how empty it is.

“Alright, I guess.” You begrudgingly agree.

Wait a minute.

“How do you know there are fish on the ground, aren’t you blindfolded!?”

Everyone starts laughing and you feel as though you’ve been left out of some inside joke.

Mr. See-no-evil starts walking backward toward the tree line. “Come on, I will tell you on the way.”

Should this be a series? Also, we aren't even going to talk about the nicknames... I tried 🤷🏾‍♀️

#domnamewoman #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #Raiden #Johnny Cage #Kung Lao #Kenshi Takahashi #teen!reader #imagine #mk1 imagine #elemental #elemental!reader #elements #mk1 #mk

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 6 months

Text

The Purple Sign. Part III

Self-Aware! Chuuya Nakahara x GN! Reader

Description: There is a purple sign on your bedroom's door. Part III

Hurt/Comfort. Chuuya pampering.

Warning: English is my second language. Mentions of alcohol and smoking

The Purple Sign on your bedroom door greeted you. The door was slightly open. You walked in.

Chuuya Nakahara was sitting on your windowsill. The window was wide open.

Chuuya looked carefully at the forest outside the window. He turned his head slightly in your direction when you closed the door behind you, but remained silent.

You started preparing.

You turned on purple lights and took a couple of blankets out of the shelf. From the drawer with Chuuya's name on it, you took out a set of comfortable clothes, a wine glass, a key to one of the storage rooms in the basement, a hairbrush, massage oil and a small list of wines.

You silently walked up to Chuuya and handed him the wine list. Without looking at whine card, Chuuya muttered.

"Sauvignon Blanc... and... Can you, please, cut some goat cheese to it?"

You were almost ready to agree, when you noticed a faint smell of cigars coming from Chuuya. He truly was stressed and irritated. You lean closer to him.

"Chuuya... Do you want anything else?"

His eyes met yours. He opened his mouth to protest. You point at his shirt.

"Or you want to tell me, that you were standing too close to Yukito and Ryuurou?"

Chuuya sighs.

"I don't want to pressure you too much." He looked at you. "But you will insist, right?"

You nodded. Chuuya looked back at the forest.

"Can you, please, cook me a sea bass?"

You smiled and nodded again.

You return to the shelf and took a music player, collection of music CD's and a full charged phone.

You placed them near Chuuya.

When you left the kitchen, you heard the first sounds of "Starway to Heaven".

It takes you some time, but you finish cooking sea bass. You bring plates with fish and goat cheese to your room.

While you were cooking, Chuuya closed the window and now was sitting on the bean bag chair. He also changed his clothes to the one you gave him.

You put both plates on your desk and left the room again to get a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.

When you get back, there are three plates on your desk. And half of the sea bass are now on the third plate. Chuuya point at the plate.

"Your part."

You sat down on the opposite side of him and take the fork.

You and Chuuya eat in silence and only sounds of music is heard in your room.

Chuuya drank some wine and ate goat cheese. You decide not to drink. Chuuya doesn't insist.

After small dinner, you make Chuuya lay on your bed.

Time for a massage.

Your firm hands pressed down on his back, between his shoulder blades. Then a little bit lower. Then lower. You run the edges of your palms down either side of Chuuya's spine.

You start speaking.

"You are a person. Your own person."

You rub his shoulders. You try your best, massaging every knot. In a middle of the massage, you kneel down and left few kisses on Chuuya's neck. Chuuya let out a tiny moan.

"You are a real human. As much as I am."

You pay attention to his hands. With small circular motions, you massage his palms. Chuuya looking at you with the corner of his eye. He squeezed your hand in his, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

"Port Mafia is safe. Everyone are safe."

You brush his hair. Chuuya looked more relaxed than before.

"You don't need to be on your guard all the time."

You finish the massage. Chuuya carefully took your hand and pull you closer to him.

Chuuya's embrace is strong. Chuuya's embrace is warm. You are looking Chuuya in the eyes. He kisses you on a cheek few times, then on the nose and on the chin.

He hugs you tighter.

Your head is laying on Chuuya's chest.

You fall asleep listening to Chuuya's heartbeat and breathing.

#self-awareau #self-awarebsd #bungou stray dogs au #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #Self-Aware Chuuya Nakahara

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millerscoffee · 9 months

Text

at my fingertips

⟣ queer friendly fic ⟢

2.3k | frankie morales x santiago garcia x f!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings: THROUPLE – everybody is dating each other!!, established relationship, threesome obv, smut w/ fluffy bits, piv (unprotected), oral (m - m receiving, m - f receiving, f - m receiving) – everybody's sucking fish's dick ok, cum play, kissing (m/m, m/f), dirty talk – this is all dirty who am i kidding. hints of sub!santi + sub!frankie + dom!reader. probably not the best spanish you've ever read - sorry! no use of y/n.

summary: you, frankie, and santi are celebrating your one year anniversary in costa rica after everyone ignoring their feelings for each other for three years – though frankie and santi for way longer.

A/N: just doing the lord's work, hold your applause. JUST KIDDING. idk man i've been thinking about this a lot lately, and i have a soft spot for two tough ex-military dudes (who look very bbg) making out (etc.) in reader's presence idk IDK IDK. please let me know if you enjoyed this!

An entanglement of three naked bodies bathed in the sunlight of a California King sized bed. It had been a year exactly, today in fact, since you and your boys decided to do this. To really do this, not just skirt around the subject for three years. You met them volunteering, hitting it off immediately. None of you knew it would end up like this. But three years is exactly how long it took for you all to come to your senses about this.

Now here you were, sandwiched between your two favorite humans somewhere in paradise.

Costa Rica, to be more specific. It was humid, skin sticky between the three of you as you begin to shift, a reaction from morning light spilling over your eyes. Santi shifts with you, an inhale thick through his nose as he pulls you closer. You feel protected between the two of them, a lazy grin to yourself when you notice Frankie has taken the position of little spoon – his back splayed against your chest.

Your eyes remain shut while you drape your thigh over Frankie's hips and nuzzle your face against the back of his neck, letting your hand shift over top of Santi's when it snakes around your waist. Frankie's not remotely awake yet, but you can sense Santiago's eyes creeping open from the touch of your fingertips.

There's a part of you that knows he will always be on high alert from the life he's had, the life they've both had, but in this moment he is not awake in defense or protection, or a dream that has left him in a cold sweat. No, this morning is in full surrender. He feels vulnerable against your back as you press against him, his nose brushing into your hair, and you will your eyes open.

Gingerly, Santi thumbs over your abdomen in this lazy formation and it's enough to make you want to stay like this forever and feel a rush of heat pool at the base of your stomach.

You think you stifled the shudder fluttering through your body, but as always, Santi knows you better than you think he does. Without a word, Santi's fingers walk down your pubic bone, just over the mound at the top of your clit. You huff out a breath, noticing that you'd been holding your inhale. His touch bringing you back to earth.

This breath against the back of Frankie's neck makes the man to move a bit in his sleep and you both freeze to notice if he will wake up, not really wanting to disturb him. "Cariño," he whispers, his voice gruff and full of sleep and it's the sexiest sound in the world. You can tell he's barely done anything to make you believe he's awake, but Santi's fingers spread your lips apart and he marvels at how wet you are when he dips his middle finger between your folds.

"Amor, ella está muy mojada." The bass from Garcia's low voice vibrates against your back, and you try to not completely fall apart at the drop of a hat. But you can feel Santiago's cock stiffen, notice Francisco's body become more awake at the sound of his boyfriend's words, and it's almost too much to take. The heat in the room turns your cheeks and lips a feverish colour, and you bite down a whimper when Frankie rolls onto his back to witness Santi playing with your pussy like two animals in heat.

From behind, it's like you can hear Santi's lips form into a hazy grin the second he sees your shared lover – half proud and half eager to get him involved. He pulls his fingers from you slowly, and the lack of friction would make you whine if you hadn't witnessed those same fingers tempting onto Frankie's tongue. Like a kitten, Frankie laps at them, suckling your wetness at the tips of Santi's fingers with his big brown, sleepy eyes staring at the both of you.

It sears right through you.

Frankie wraps his mouth around Santi's fingers to tease you both, and a groan can be heard from behind you at just how good he is at teasing you both and you groan in response, pushing your ass back against Santi's cock. A hitched sigh escaping you when Frankie moves Santi's fingers from his mouth for one of your breasts. He moves down the bed to greet them as the lover behind you eases one, then two of his fingers into you. There's no need in preparing your body, you're so wet, after all... and a bit prepared from the night before.

Panting as you push the back of Frankie's head into your tits, his skilled tongue flicks at your nipples. Santiago has different plans, however, as he replaces his fingers to line his cock up against your hips. Hissing when he takes a handful of your ass to pull it back and expose your pussy for him. "Christ," he mutters under his breath, teasing the head of his thick cock against you. You moan, urging Frankie up to meet your mouth and you kiss him hard. With tongue, your explore his throat and a guttural moan comes from you when Santi pushes into your walls. He's thick and deep into you in no time, his trained cock rubbing against that spot inside of you just over the hilt.

"Ajustada– fuck. Fucking tight," you hear a growl against your ear, and you've done this enough to know just how your body gets to them both. You stifle what would be a scream when he moves his hips, and you desperately search for Frankie's cock with your hand. However he pulls your grip away and shakes his head, causing you to moan and let out a frustrated whine at the same time. New record.

Instead, he presses his forehead to yours for the moment, and insists you look into his dreamy eyes. "That's it, you're being such a good girl taking Santi's cock like that. I know, he's so big. Isn't he, princesa?"

The way Frankie is speaking to you sends your body into overdrive. Santi's cock now snapping into you with no remorse as his calloused fingers rub your clit just the way you do when you show off for them. Garcia's free hand grips into the front of your hip, urging bruises to come to the surface later on in the day, but it feels so delicious in the moment all you can do is cradle your bottom lip into your mouth and keep a furrowed brow.

You can't see Santiago behind you yet, but you know how hot he looks when he's fucking: concentrated, his hips moving almost magically, and the occasional groan leaves his throat right against your ear. It sends a shiver down your spine.

What's worse is Frankie knows just how fat and thick Santi's cock feels inside of you because it's been in him too, and it makes your skin hot to know his words are from experience. So many times you've seen them together in one way or another, and there is nothing you three haven't shared with each other. You're irrevocably in love, and it brings your heart to new heights every time you're together.

This morning those thoughts flood you when you can't quite look into Frankie's eyes anymore. They're rolling into your skull, cock-drunk and all you can hear the squelching of your drenched pussy from Santi moving in and out of you.

You can feel him start to brink, too.

Morales won't let you slip just yet, though, and firmly grips your jaw, your body tensing. "Look at me, keep your eyes on me," Frankie is usually smooth when he speaks, but this demand is a bit harsh. Pope hisses at your tightening pussy in response to the man in front of you and you come hard without much more warning. Your eyes loll as your mouth slacks open, and Frankie knows better than to shove his tongue in your mouth – not yet, not til you've come down. "Thaaat's it. Just like that, babygirl. Our good girl." His whispers turn into petting of your face before his gaze is just above your head, watching Santi come apart, his hot load spilling itself into you when his toes curl.

Being a pilot, it makes sense that Frankie has a knack for taking care of people, but it's another level when he's like this. Your ears are ringing and stars fill your eyes, but you can still feel their presence as they praise each other. When Santiago leans over you to mouth and lick into Frankie's mouth. You groan at how it feels, how much it makes me want to stay like this forever. You lean up into their mouths lazily, licking into their kiss and they gladly invite you in. Tongues crash, and you feel Santiago squeeze you, holding you tight because you're their girl and nothing would ever change that.

The comedown feels like heaven with a view of the jungle just outside your window, and you nestle your neck into Frankie's jaw, his fat cock catching your eye from the position your head is in. "Can we share you, please?" You look up at him with an amorous glance, and Santi grunts at the prospect. Both of you making strained noises when he pulls out, but you know what the moan was really about.

Fish's face is still soft from sleep, but more possessive as his pupils are blown. Without saying a word, he takes your arms to help you onto your knees and positions your body to straddle his head. Your breath staggers, not really knowing if you can take another orgasm, but you can't help but sink down onto his mouth. His goddamn mouth.

Santi has other plans, sinking his body between Frankie's legs and he looks so fucking gorgeous like this. It was a long build up of years to see him this vulnerable, and you savour it every chance you get.

His mouth teases Frankie's cock and to watch it twitch uncontrollably sends your senses ablaze. He's a natural in wrapping his mouth around the leaking head. Frankie's cock must've been aching from just waking up from how flushed it was. It's too much to take in, blood surging towards your cunt in desire once more.

This isn't anything new, nothing to make you raise your eyebrow or question why things were happening the way they were, and when you sink your hips down over Frankie's mouth, you let out a sigh of admiration for the two of them. Your boys with their mouths preoccupied, love coursing through the veins of everyone in the room. Your body is still warm from sleep, growing stickier from the muggy weather and the heat rising between the three of you.

It's then Frankie's skilled tongue flicks over your cunt that you tremble. Bracing your hands on the soft form of his belly, his hands encourage you to sit down more and bring your weight on top of him. All the while, it's Pope who's in front of you now. Whose eyes are heated as they stare into yours, working the other man's cock in his mouth with precision. The sound of Frankie's muffled moans vibrate your core and send your hips to grind down against his tongue. A gasp rattling your ribcage, you feel him suck and lick Santi's cum from your cunt. "You're so fucking dirty, Frankie. You know what he's doing, baby?" You speak with seduction, ogling down at Santi.

"He's lapping your cum right from my hole. Such a filthy thing."

Both of your men moan at that, loving when you speak to them degradingly. You've never been too shy to put them in their place.

"Good boy, honey. Keep that tongue on me like that," taking your tits into your palms, you tug and roll your nipples. To feel the sensation, but you notice Santi's blowjob getting messier from his mouth watering at the sight of both of you.

Frankie's hands make contact on the breadth of your ass and it's cause for your voice to quickly turn from sultry to a slew of desperate whimpers. His tongue now merciless on your clit until, "Frankie!" Yours thighs are shaking on either side of him, unable to hold your balance, your body gives into bending over his chest. Now face to face with Santi and Frankie's cock.

Riding out the waves of please, Santi pops off his mouth on Frankie's cock, feeding it to you without giving you choice – he already knows you want this. Want to send Morales over his edge as you taste the perfect mixture of Frankie's increasing precum and Santi's saliva. His own mouth preoccupied with the balls of your shared lover. That's just when Frankie can't take anymore. "Ah, mierda!" You hear Morales behind you, his face pressed behind your thigh. His cum hits your mouth, almost taking him all down, but not quite – saving just enough to kiss Santi with. To share Frankie's cum with him, your tongues mingle.

---

When you all are spent – giggling at each other, making fun of each other lightly from just how taxed you all really are, it tugs your heart. To be held close in the comfort of Frankie's strong arms, Santi lazily stroking the other man's hair while you swirl your fingertips over the hairs on his thigh.

The three of you finally got it right.

After a group shower, the three of you spend the day exploring the jungle and beach, eating fresh fruit. You're all walking down a beach when lean down to pick up two seashells. A grin spreads over your face, knowing they'd have to put it back, but keeping it for the walk wouldn't hurt.

You turn around, handing them each a symbol of your appreciation for them in their own unique ways. Your companions.

"Happy anniversary, goofs."

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia x f!reader #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x santiago garcia x reader #frankie morales x santiago garcia x f!reader #frankie morales smut #santiago garcia smut #santiago pope garcia smut #by bee #queer friendly fic #queer friendly smut

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