#tf!boys x reader

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All The Good Girls Go To Hell | TF!Boys Mafia AU~ Part ONE

Summary: When Phoenix comes home to find her fiancé banging some other girl, her whole life changes seemingly overnight. Forced to go back and live with her Dad, she's about to be dragged into a life with the men her Dad is indebted to.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY (Mature Content), Dark Mafia Romance Au, setting things on fire, swearing, dead parent, debt, mental health issues, brain tumour, broken family, anger issues (female rage), AFAB OFC, objectification of the female body, pyromania, little bit of theft (smut to come)

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: I didn't need to have yet another idea for a story. I also didn't need to write it straight away, but I recently read Den of Vipers and figured I could do something better featuring the Triple Frontier boys. I don't know how many parts of this there will be, or how regularly this will ultimately be updated, but I thought I'd share anyway. Smut will come, featuring all four guys this time. This will use an ofc but apart from the hair, there aren't too many descriptors. This will also be written from multiple characters points of view throughout to keep things interesting. Enjoy!

ONE

PHEONIX

My fingers itch as I grip the steering wheel tighter. I should have worn gloves, I say to myself as I drop one hand from the wheel and rub it vigorously against my torn jeans, hoping the friction from the denim will- at the very least- satiate the itch left behind from the lighter fluid long enough for me to get to the next gas station, so I can stop in and wash my hands properly.

It was reckless of me really- the whole damn thing. My brothers taught me better than this, but then again, everyone said I had a temper that was only second to Archie’s in my family- so I’m really not that surprised. People say my Dad used to be equally hot headed before he got remarried to Marina and took over the club, but I’ve still yet to see it- even after all the shit me and my brothers have pulled over the years. It’s like after our Mother died he just gave up. But I don’t blame him. I would too if I lost the love of my life to a fucking disease like that. I had barely known her anyway, so I didn’t really notice all that much when the brain tumor turned her into a “literal monster”, as my older brothers used to so fondly call her when she was on one of her rampages.

I’d always said that my only real memory of her was when she tried to burn down the house by settling alight to the curtains in their bedroom. I remember we all stood out on the front grass as the smoke billowed out of the windows and mixed with the night air. Archie stood on my right holding one of my hands, E.Z stood on my left holding the other. Maybe that’s why I’ve always had a thing for fire myself. Messing about with lighters, setting things on fire- all so I can try and understand that night… At least, that’s what a therapist would probably say.

My Dad tried to make me go to one once, after I ended up burning down the whole science block at my school at 16, but alas, that never happened. Which is why I’m probably still using fire as a coping method after all these years.

My phone is blowing up by the time I reach the nearest gas station. I scan the messages from my brothers over quickly as I pull into the lot.

Deano: Heard what you did, I’d say he fucking deserved it.

Archie: Dad is pissed. Gonna try to calm him down before he does something stupid.

E.Z: Seriously, Phe, again! Dad is gonna be so pissed.

Leo: Just heard about your latest work, props little sis, I think your balls might be even bigger than Dean’s.

Rolling my eyes, I shove my phone in the glove box as it begins to buzz again. Uhh, I really don’t want or need a lecture right now about how I should or should not have acted upon finding my fiance in bed with another woman. Did I over react… by some people’s standards- maybe. But did I also live out every woman’s fantasy of dousing the bed in lighter fluid and striking a match whilst they were still in the bed… yes- yes I did- and do I give two fucks about any repercussions? Absolutely- fucking- not. Because there won’t be. Never have been. My Dad works for some of the most powerful men in the city- and I’m not talking about the Governor or the Mayor. No- someone will send some money over to keep them sweet and in a couple days time, everything will go back to normal.

I scrub at my hands with the shitty cheap soap in the tiny cubicle inside the gas station to the point the giant rock, still on my finger, almost slips off and down the drain. It’s the first time I’ve thought about it. I’ve been wearing it so long, it’s just an extension of my hand at this point. What am I gonna do with it? I mean- it’s worth a fucking fortune. Freddie was fucking loaded after all. None of it fucking his mind you. His Dad was a close business partner for the same guys my Dad worked for. Let’s just say, crime pays and his Dad has made so much money over the years working for Santiago Garcia and his crew, Freddie has never had to lift a single finger, let alone do a days work, to get what he wants.

I grab a handful of shitty paper towels, drying off my hands and the ring, holding it up to the fluorescent bathroom light. Uhhh it wasn’t even my style. I hate diamonds, they’re so basic and boring. Give me a massive fuck off ruby or saphire anyday. 

Still unsure what to do with it, I tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans before assessing how I look in the mirror. It’s like waking up from the weirdest dream and not recognising yourself. I look at my blonde hair in the mirror, the plain white t-shirt covering my breasts. I look like one of those young Barbie, trophy wife wannabe types. Where did the color and fun go? He drained it all out of me.

In college, when I met Freddie, I had pink in my hair and always had on something bright. At least my ripped jeans still have some character. 

Exiting out back onto the shop floor, I grab myself a large bag of cheetos and a cherry icee- that's as big as my head- from the machine in the back. As I place the large bag of cheesy puffs on the counter, I take a large sip of my drink, before placing that too on the counter, reaching for a pair of bright yellow heart sunglasses on a display next to the cashier.

“What d’ya think?” I ask the portly man behind the counter, who’s polo shirt doesn’t look or smell like it’s been washed for at least two weeks with its armpit stains and ranch dressing smear on the front.

It’s obvious he’s trying to come across as if he’s not checking out my whole body as he looks at me, but his eyes scan lower than my face, falling on the V neck of my t-shirt and my breasts for a hint too long. I flash him a sickly sweet smile as I take the sunglasses off my face and hook them into my shirt where his eyes seem to linger instead. “How about now?” I ask.

He quickly clears his throat as he looks back to the register. “Uhhh, yes- Yes- I think they suit you, yes.” he rambles and I can’t help but laugh. Men like that were always so predictable.

I reach for the icee taking another sip and try to school my features when I get brain freeze. “With the sunglasses,” he says, “16 bucks.” I sigh, but fish a couple notes out my back pocket and hand them over, just as my eyes land on a lighter covered in black and white harlequin print. My fingers instantly reach for it.

I turn the lighter over and over again in my fingers before flipping the top of it open and striking up a flame, my eyes getting lost in its amber glow as it sways hypnotically back and forth. It instantly takes me back to not 20 minutes ago and Fred and the girl’s screams, as the bed covers went up in flames and they both shot out from underneath them as he screamed about how much of a psycho I was. 

The ding of the till draw brings me back to the present and I flick the lighter closed. “Oh, and I’m taking this as payment for you oggling me.” I smile at the balding cashier, as I pocket the lighter and grab my bits off the counter.

I can hear him calling after me, “HEY, COME BACK HERE! YOU NEED TO PAY FOR THAT!” but I just laugh and take another sip of the slush and place the sunglasses back on my head.

As I walk back to my car, I notice a bum, sitting in the shade of the wall at the back corner of the station. As I look at him, I can feel the weight of the ring in my back pocket, dragging me towards him. Hey, the ring might not have changed my life, but it doesn’t mean it can’t change someone else’s life.

“Hey.” I say, lifting the yellow sunglasses on top of my head so I can meet his eyes. “Catch.” I toss him the ring. It sparkles as it hits the afternoon sun and I know from the look on his eyes as it makes contact with his fingers, he feels like he just won the lottery. “Pawn it. Get whatever you want with it, I don’t care.” I say as I begin to turn away from him and back to my car.

“Uh-thank you.” he says at first in shock, “Thank you.” he says again, a little more confidently now.

“Don’t mention it.” I shout back to him as I unlock my car with a chirp and climb back inside. 

I open the bag of cheetos, taking one and popping it in my mouth, before dumping them on the passenger seat and reaching to open the glove box, taking my phone back out.

7 more texts from my brothers and 5 missed calls from my Dad; with a final text saying:

DAD: Get your ass home. NOW!

Well, that does it then. I guess I’m going back to the old family home.

I start the engine, shuffling through the radio stations until I find something I like. When I hear the opening riff for Britney Spears’ Toxic, I stop and whack the volume all the way up. My tires screech as I speed out of the forecourt. I sing at the top of my lungs all the way home.

☆

I’m not through the door five seconds when E.Z is trying to usher me back out again. He’s always been the softer one. Third born. The middle child. Always overlooked, but still always trying to appease everyone.

“Dad is pissed.” He says, when he meets me in the foyer. After Mom tried to burn the house down, the place got remodeled. My Dad had to sell his soul to the devil to do it, but it meant we got to stay in our family home. Well, sort of. 

The whole left side of the house needed rebuilding, which meant they got to extend it out a bit more. We lost the basketball court the boys liked to play on, but it meant they finally got their own rooms so they didn’t mind. 

“I know.” I say to E.Z, waving my phone in his face with one hand, while I take a sip of my icee with the other. 

“Give me that.” He says, snatching the drink from my hand, the contents within the straw almost going everywhere as he rips it straight from my mouth. “This is serious Phe, Andy,” Freddie’s dad, “has already been on the phone making threats. You know how important he is for the business. He’s threatening to cut off the club’s supplies.”

“And….” I shrug, before reaching to take back the large cup in his hands. He merely moves it further out of my reach. “Look, I’m sure the guys who own the place have other connections he can use.”

“You sure about that?” My brother presses, raising his eyebrows and looming over me.

“Oh come on, you telling me those four wannabe goodfellas bozos, haven’t got some other dipshit on their payroll to import and export shit for them off record to help keep club costs down.” 

E.Z’s face is a picture. Eyes wide, face serious. It’s clear from his expression and his mouth that keeps gaping like a fish as he tries to get a word in, that he thinks I should shut up. “What!?” I hiss at him, but as I’ve been ranting and raving, I haven’t heard the second set of feet that have made their way through the front door into the foyer. E.Z’s face turns pale as he looks behind me to the figure and back.

“Oh no, don’t stop on my account.” A forced casual voice comes from behind me.

I turn my head and follow the voice to one of the most gorgeous men I have ever laid eyes on. All tanned skin and dark curly hair, a smattering of grays mixed in- the only hint to his age. I frown as a familiarity falls over me, but I can’t quite place from where. “I’m sorry- do I know you?”

He slides his fingers into his trouser pockets, his foot tapping slightly as he looks me up and down. “Oh you know, I’m just one of those bozos who’s now having to help clear up your mess.”

Before I have a chance to respond, my Dad and Archie step out of his office at the end of the hall. “PHEONIX!” My Dad’s voice bellows and I blanche, maybe that anger isn’t as far away as I thought. 

I turn away from the stranger in his Armani suit by the front door, to my Dad, flashing him my sweetest smile. “Hi, Dadd-”

“Uh- No!” He says, holding up a hand to stop me, “Don’t you dare-” He stops as he spots the other gentleman in the foyer. “Pope.” He says, his demeanor growing lighter as he greets the man who actually owns his ass.

“What kind of name is Pope?” I hiss to E.Z under my breathe, but he just nudges me to shut up.

“David… Archie…” Pope nods his head to the two men. “Shall we talk in your office.” He says, nodding back down the hall behind him.

“Uh- yes. Yes.” My Dad says nervously, turning his body to indicate for him to follow him back, before shooting me a stern look, telling me to behave and that this was far from over.

“Pheonix.” Pope nods to me as he passes, a faint smirk in the corner of his mouth and a look in his eye that I could only describe as fascination. But it quickly disappears again as he turns back to my Dad.

As the door to my Father’s office closes, my brother begins to ferry me towards the stairs. “I’d get up there and stay out of trouble if I were you.” He warns. 

I roll my eyes at him before I slip the yellow, heart shaped sunglasses, down over them with annoyance, snatching back my icee, before I stomp upstairs- as usual, out of sight, out of mind.

~

POPE

“Mr Garcia, I am so sorry for my daughters behavior. I really had thought she’d grown out of this,” David Leacher says, as I sit myself down in one of the leather armchairs in his office. “And I never thought she would do something like this that would put your well balanced business in jeopardy.”

I fain disinterest about the subject, because really, it doesn’t actually bother me all that much at all. Sure Andy is a bit pissed now on behalf of his son, but from what I hear, if you’re gonna go sneaking around behind your soon to be Mrs' back and she finds out, you kinda get what your asking for. To be fair, I gotta give the little lady props; it takes real guts to dump lighter fluid on a guy and strike the match, regardless of the consequences. 

“… I just don’t know what to do with her.” David says, slumping back in his chair behind his desk with a large glass of bourbon in his hand. 

“And this is why I never got married and had kids.” I say, giving him a tight lipped smirk. There’s an awkward pause between us, the only sound in the room, the ice clinking in David’s glass as he takes another nervous sip, his hand shaking slightly in anticipation, waiting for the slap on the wrist he thinks is about to come. “Look David, I’ll get to the point, Andy wants compensation for the money he’s already forked out for the wedding.” David puts his drink down and begins rubbing his temples as if this whole ordeal is giving him a headache. 

He sighs, turning to me, an earnest look in his eye, “Pope,” he says softly- imploringly- “you know I don’t have the money for that-“

“I know.” I say, cutting him off. “That’s why, we’ve decided to franchise Medusa’s. We are going to acquire two more clubs, you’ll get a pay rise and oversee all three venues, to help cover the costs. We get more money coming in through the clubs, you get more money to pay off Andy- everyone’s a winner.” 

The look of relief on David’s face is a picture. “Oh thank you, Pope- uh Mr Garcia.” He says, as his whole body seems to let out a very long breath that he had been keeping tight in his body, probably since the first call he got this afternoon about his daughter’s antics. “Thank you, thank you.” He seemingly pants.

“Look Dave, you’re a good guy- a loyal guy-“ I say honestly, “you work hard, you run Medusa’s well. Profits have been up 30% since you took over. I’m not gonna jeopardize that over some silly tiff between a couple kids.”

“No, no… thank you.” He says quietly, acknowledging my words as I continue to speak.

“Whether this had happened or not, we were going to come to you with this proposal this week anyway. Help you pay off your debt to us quicker too- you know.”

“Yes… thank you, Pope. Thank you.”

“Very well then.” I nod to him. “I’ll call Andy, let him know everything is settled.”

“Thank you, Pope, thank you.” He says again. 

David is a good man- a loyal man. He runs our most popular club well, but it was a real shame how soft he had gone in his old age. Ever since he lost his wife, he’s never been the same. Then he married that wannabe wag Marina- who does nothing but spend the rest of what little money he has coming in after he repays some of his debt to us- and walks all over him. Back in the day he had really made a name for himself bare knuckle boxing. They used to call him The Reaper because he could knock a man out with a single blow that brought a man close to death; but nowadays he’d barely hit a fly. This was yet another reason I never settled down and did the whole wife and kids thing- it made you soft.

Still didn’t stop his little girl from being as tough as nails and crazy to boot- but when the only female role models you had growing up were a Mother with a brain tumor that made her- to be polite- unhinged; and then Marina, it's no wonder she’s ended up as she has. She bounced around three different boarding schools in her teens. By the third school- after she had burnt down the science block at the second school- we had to write a fairly hefty donation cheque, in order to get her in. Just another number added to David’s bill to be repaid.

Although he had initially approached us looking for work in order to pay off his wife’s medical bills and then to redo the house after she had burnt half of it down, most of the money he’s borrowed from us over the years has been for Phoenix. Frankie, Will and myself have spent many a night around the table with a drink in our hands speculating on why he continues to bail her out and put himself in more debt to protect her. We’ve long come to assume it’s probably because of guilt. That she was robbed of a proper Mother. Cursed to have a weak Father. If she had been my kid, I would have tossed her ass out on the curb a long time ago and told her to deal with her own shit if she wanted to keep behaving the way she has over the years.

To be fair though, after she met Freddie, we thought she’d finally straightened out- or at least she had become Fred’s problem and he was dealing with it. She stopped going to the clubs. Started wearing more grown up clothing that matched her age. Began running with Freddie and his older friends. But I guess it was only a matter of time and you know what they say- a leopard never changes their spots.

I’m halfway to the door, ready to leave, when David stops me. “Umm, Pope.” He says tentatively. I slowly turn myself back to him, ready to hear his request, even though he’s in no place to be making requests right now after I’ve just bailed his ass out for the fifteenth time. “I was just wondering…” he continues hesitantly, “seeing as Phoenix and Freddie are no longer together, she’ll probably need an actual job of her own now…” I can almost feel myself rubbing at my temples, knowing the question that was about to come out of his mouth. It’s the same question that had come when all of his son’s came of age and needed a job… but this time is different- and we both know it.

Phoenix isn’t like her brothers. Where they are able to be mature and step up and follow orders, she most definitely can not. I’ve seen enough of her school reports over the years to know what kind of employee she’d be. When David had asked about getting the boys jobs, it had been a no brainer. Each one of them had a build similar to their father in his hay day, perfect for a bit of muscle and extra protection in the club. But a job in Medusa’s for Phoenix would be behind the bar- and I know for a fact she’d sooner pour herself shots of liquor and dance on that bar than stand back and serve everyone else whilst they had a good time.

I already know I’m going to regret this when I finally climb into my bed at the end of the night, “She gets one chance.” I say. “One chance.” I hold up my index finger to him for emphasis.

“Thank you, Pope. I promise she won’t let you down.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I mutter to myself, my thumb and forefinger rubbing at my eyes in both irritation and exhaustion, as I finally leave the room. I give Archie a brief nod of acknowledgement as he sees me back out to my car.

I'm about to climb back in when he says, "I know you didn't have to do that, but he needed that, you know. He needs that hope that she'll be okay."

I only give him a nod as I look up to the row of upstairs windows and back to him, "We'll see." I say. "We'll see."

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

if you wanna be tagged when the next chapter goes live, let me know in writing. and if you like this, don't forget to reblog and share with more people and give them a chance to like it too.

[teletubbyinlipstick]

More Hybrid!Poly TF141 x Reader pleaaasseeeee? 🥹

(ps, love your writing!)

OwlHybrid!Poly TF141 X Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading. You're all so sweet for the support! I'm negl. I didn't expect people to read it, haha. I'm so shocked by the love.

Thankyou @bina-passion-fruit for the morning after idea! See her reblog of the first part for the gist. And please feel free to send in scenarios you could see these birbs end up in!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day IS tense. The atmosphere has never been this suffocating.

Not in their own home.

Gaz sits curled up in Johnny's frame at the breakfast nook, head resting on the older mans shoulder, a deep frown setting into his face. His eyes are crusted a little, nose still deep red and cheeks puffy. He looks thoroughly exhausted, like he hasn't slept.

They all do.

Johnny has a cuppa sitting untouched. It's luke warm by now, but he can't bring himself to drink it. Face mirroring Gaz's, glaring down at the coffee like it has personally offended him. Every couple minutes, he huffs deeply, eyes darting away from the cup to glance around as if in thought, but he inevitably ends up gazing lost into his cup again.

Price and Simon are at the stove and counter. Quietly discussing things that need to be done for the day. There's lulls of silence in their convos, moments where their minds wander to the dove sleeping down the hall. Price feels guilt eating him alive. He's hunched a bit, chin tucked down in a clear sign of forlorn. Simon continues to run a hand up his spine soothingly, pressing closer to offer as much comfort as he can. But he can't deny the stabs of agony he, himself, feels.

It's raw. It sucks.

And Simon feels so fucking lost in this moment. He wants to gather all his mates in his arms (even you) and shush, coo, and coddle until there's nothing but purrs, chirps, and preened content lovers piled into a nest. He wants to scent you and rub you in their things to let you know you're safe and cared for now. He sees the trauma, the fear when Johnny reached for you. The self soothing you do by rubbing your arms.

He sees you. And in doing so, he sees himself. A scared fledgling unsure of the world, burned and bitten, spat upon by those who swore to love them.

Someone hurt you.

Tore at your feathers until you were too scared to take flight. And if Ghost ever gets a name he'd tear the motherfuckers wings from their spine.

The pitter patter of footsteps approaching the kitchen lifted them from their haze, four pairs of eyes snapping to you as you sleepily shuffled in. You wore a simple oversized t shirt and sweatpants to bed, hair rumpled from sleep, eyes and cheeks red and puffy from sleep. They can see the tear streaks dried from last night and it breaks their heart all over again.

Price makes the first move, taking a small step towards you with a plate held out. Buttered toast, sizzling eggs, and red srawberries sit on top.

"G'mornin' sweetheart, hope you slept well. 'Ve cooked some breakfast. There's coffee in the pot. Help yourself." Soft eyes gaze down at you. He's hunched inwards a little, head tilted down and the sweetest smile gracing his face. You feel very flustered, keenly aware of the 3 other sets of eyes intently watching.

Taking a deep breath, you offer a half smile, grasping the plate with slightly shaky hands.

"Uhm..t-thankyou, sir"

"John."

Wide doe eyes peer up at him, shock clear on your face. He feels his lips quirk at the sight.

"My mates call me John. Not sir. We're equal here, okay? You call me by my name." When his hand reaches out, you don't swat it away this time, only watching in marvel as he tucks hair behind your ears, crows feet aligning his kind eyes.

Taking a shaky breath, a soft, geniune smile spreads across your face, eyes darting to your feet and back up as you turn to the table. Johnny and Gaz are staring right at you, wings perked up. Gaz is quickest to his feet, pulling out a chair, a handsome grin settling on face. Pretty boy, you muse to yourself. Sitting down with a grateful smile and a hushed thankyou.

A hand reaches past your shoulder, jarring and unexpected. You whip your head up to see Simon offering a placate smile down at you, other palm face up to soothe. You tilt your head owlishly, blinking at him. It causes the older mans lips to quirk up on one side, brown eyes softening as he gazes down at you. He nods his head towards the table, and upon looking back to your plate, you realize he sat down a fork...oh.

Tears welled in your eyes, and a sniffle broke through. Simon's eyes widened a fraction, quickly backing away with both his hands raised, palm up.

"'M sorry luvie, didn't mean t'startle you."

It was sincere, filled with guilt. A small sob breaks past your lips. Johnny whines high in his throat, reaching out for your hand across the table, only to stop short, unsure if you'd appreciate the contact. His lips are once again pulled down, eyes saddened.

"Bonnie?..." Murmured so quietly into the air, the boys hold their breath, pulling their wings in to appear smaller. You wipe at your face again, sniffling, eyes glossy and cheeks rosy. And when you finally lifted your head, the last thing they expected was to see the brightest grin painted across your face, pure happiness shining, tear streaks lined with joy.

"No one's ever been so kind to me...thankyou. All of you."

Oh, dove, you haven't seen anything yet.

[marshmallowdarling]

Retired Knight! Simon is the last person to come around to the thought of you (surprise surprise). Because like these are his boys, who are you to come in and try and steal them away? 

Very much jealous and possessive and the other men eat that shit up! Wrapping his arm around his captains waist when you come into the room, throwing an arm around Johnny’s shoulder while he makes you all breakfast (because everyone needs to eat including you and even though he doesn’t like the idea of you he doesn’t hate you), pressing himself into Kyle’s back while Kyle washes the dishes. Just little things that silently say ‘he’s mine’. 

But again, he doesn’t hate you as much as he loathes the king throwing you into their home and in a way he pity’s you. Having to be a ‘spouse’ for their general who already has three boys at his side, a loveless marriage and having to be the ‘other person’. 

He watches you, at first he didn’t mean to. Habits from the army were hard to break and patrolling their home was a way to soothe his nerves and drain his energy so he wasn’t itching to do something, and he sees you trying to tend to the few animals John got as a present. Key word is ‘trying’ because bless your heart you have never really taken care of barn animals, seen then yes and touched one once or twice but actually tended to one? You thought you had an idea on how to take care of them but that gets thrown out of the window when you try but you don’t want to ask the boys because how hard is it? And you really want to prove you can be useful… 

So, he watches and watches. Watches as you try to haul some hay over to the horse and almost throw out your back. He watches as you try to carry a bucket that seems manageable, but you can barely even lift it an inch from the ground, waddling with it swinging everywhere and needing to set it on the ground for a few seconds after a few feet before trying again and then stopping and then trying again and then stopping and then trying-

And he watched with a raised brow from under his mask when he sees you happily feed the cows some melon, patting their short fur… until another cow’s big wet tongue laves over your hands, and another cows large tongue curls around your shirt- and by the end you’re a wet, sticky mess. 

After watching you for a while he decides he should try to help, not because he likes you but because everyone needs to start somewhere right? And watching you every day failing was painful but you did surprise him when each time you would get back up and dust yourself off…. Even when sometimes you had a little cry or swear before you got up, but you still got up and every time a hint of respect flashed in him. 

He gets to the small barn before you do, knowing your routine from watching you almost every day for a month. When you get there and are rightfully confused he doesn’t say anything for a bit before picking up one of the two buckets on the floor next to your feet, the one with most amount of stuff, before wordlessly showing you how to hold it properly and feed the cows. He doesn’t even ask you to do anything, just letting you stay near the second bucket and after a few minutes when you do get the hint he just gives you a little nod. 

Each day after starts like that, until Kyle realises what’s happening and comes around with a nice cuppa for the both of you while you work in the early mornings. 

But Simon still doesn’t like you, he just tolerates your presents. It’s what he says anyways when Kyle teases him about it while under him, but Simon just grunts and buries his feeling while putting the brat under him in his place. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ HOW DO WE LIKE?!?! I'm sorry for dropping but my family is going THROUGH it right now but here's a little peaky peak into my brain lmao

Tag List (omg mom look I made it); @sheep-from-rad , @aldis-nuts , @reap3erslov3 , @pasanau4

[doremimosasol]

SWEATY AFTER A QUIDDITCH GAME, FRUSTRATED AND STORMING INTO YOUR DORM ROOM

YES? YES

[buttdumplin]

I’m still on the latine reader train and fucking of course I had to do one of their baby’s ears getting pierced. The boys all react a little differently, but boy, are they amazing fathers.

cw: poly 141, gn!reader, latine reader, piercing mentioned but not described, baby is nicknamed Bug word count: 3k

It’s not something you’d spend a lot of time thinking about, getting your baby girl’s ear pierced. Hell, it wasn’t something you had a hard opinion on even before she came into your lives. But one day, something stirs in you. She’s around 5mos old, trying her hardest to roll over in the center of a nest of pillows her fathers have piled up around her, when you make the call. And while your partners are all understanding and loving, Kyle is the one you approach.

You plop down on the couch next to him, pulling his arms around you to make him hold you. Testing the waters, you spread small, quick kisses on his cheek. It’s a clear gauge of his current mood, and it has him squinting down at you. Not judging, more curious. He knows you’re about to drop something. 

“I’m thinking about getting Bug little golden studs.”

“That would make a lovely heirloom for when she gets older, something she can keep on her.”

“No, I mean la voy a llevar down to the piercer this week.”

His arms stiffen around you, and his lack of immediate response makes you turn to look at him. Kyle’s eyes are locked on the baby, his face perfectly neutral in a way you know he’s mastered for his job, like this was also somehow a threat to national security, to life as he knew it to be.

 “Vida mía… are you sure?” concern finally creeping in to scrunch his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I’m worried arracadas would snag on something as she’s learning to move more.”

It’s his turn to look at you, and all Kyle finds on your face is the stillness of peace that comes with having made a decision. 

“We’ll wait to tell the others,” he knows better than to ask and it has you throwing a big, beaming smile his way. All he can do at this point is return your kisses and ask you to share a link to the shop you want to take your baby girl to. 

You got to bed excited that night, thrilled by Kyle’s support. He, on the other hand, stays up late hidden in the bathroom, digging up as much info as he can on the shop to make sure it’s a reputable place. He’s reading every single review folks have left on both the individual piercers and the place itself, and he’s pinching in on every picture to zoom in and look for even the smallest sign of something wrong. A single picture of misaligned piercings would be all that it takes from him to call it all off. But he finds nothing. No skeezy people in the shop, no questionable client pictures, and the shop even has their health and safety certifications on proud display. Well, at least it seems like you chose a good shop.

The next day, Kyle is driving you down to the shop, hands tight on the steering wheel. He wants to be there. He has to be there. Pleased with all his digging and research on the shop, he holds Bug and coos down at her as you run through the details with the piercer. He’s straining his ears like never before, just to try to catch the piercer saying a single thing that sounds off so he can haul you both out of the shop and back home. But again, everything checks out. 

His voice is low and rough as he says, “I’d like to hold her as you do it, if that’s alright.”

You know he’s just trying to look out for Bug, trying to maintain some type of control in this terrifying moment, so you just kiss his shoulder and nod at him. Kyle doesn’t say much else. He sits still with his little girl in his arms, eyes wider than usual, taking in every detail he can.

Are the needles and jewelry sterile? The piercer’s pen marks look even on her little ears. Are the piercer’s hands shaking? This close to her little face?

It all happens quickly and nearly painlessly. You’re pretty sure Bug only cried out from how tense Kyle’s arms got as the needle came closer, scared just from sensing his fear. As the piercer finishes cleaning off your little girl’s ears, you hear Kyle release what must have been a held breath. The strain around his eyes immediately warns you of the blistering headache he just gave himself. 

You take his hand gently, “All done.”

He nods shakily and presses a kiss to the top of Bug’s head.

He’s never been so proud of his baby girl before. She faced off with something sharp and pain, and she barely batted an eye. Even after, it was almost like nothing had happened. Bug went back to babbling away in an attempt to talk to the piercer, who was kind enough to carry on a short conversation with her. It makes his heart swell with an unbelievable amount of hope. She’ll be able to face the entire world itself by the time she’s grown.

Kyle spends the drive back home in the backseat, looking for any signs of discomfort as your little girl sleeps, her little hand locked around his finger, his smile completely stuck on his face.

~

Simon is the only one home when you get back. He sits in the living room, putzing around with all of Bug’s toys and rugs, clearly waiting for you to get home and preparing for some play time. There aren’t any Baby and Me classes that day, at least as far as he knows. So it must have been something else that pulled you from the house.

He greets both you and Kyle with a soft kiss and a little hum, then reaches for the carseat, “How’s our sweet girl?”

Her gurgles answer him, and she gives him a big gummy smile as he pulls her from the seat. You and Kyle slowly move to put the key and car seat and jackets away, keeping a careful eye on Simon. He lays his baby girl down in his lap, helping bicycle her little legs with big, tender hands. And everything seems fine. Simon is clearly happy to be spending time with Bug again, and you and Kyle both let out a not-so-subtle sigh of relief. The sound of it, unfortunately, is bigger than it should in the room, taking up all the space left open by Simon’s absolute silence. Your eyes go wide and meet Kyle’s, his own reflecting the slight worry in yours, and you both sit on either side of Simon.

“Cariño, are you alright?” you plant a kiss on his cheek, Kyle’s arm finds its way around Simon’s back.

Now that you’re next to him, you can see the little quiver of his lower lip and the tears gathering on blonde lashes, eyes locked in on the little golden studs. His stuttered breathing is the only thing to break the silence.

“She’s so little,” he chokes out, “It must have hurt her so bad.” His tears finally fall as his fingers hover near the baby’s ears. 

Kyle presses himself against Simon’s side, “Oh, sweetheart. She’s alright, just look at how happy she is to be with you now.”

“Le dolió más a Kyle than it did her, and he just held her through the whole thing.”

Simon immediately remembers all the times he’s held his baby girl as she’s gotten her shots, how she’s squirmed and cried til she was purple in the face, and he takes another stuttering breath, “What if it makes her scared of jewelry, what if she comes to associate it all with pain?”

You can’t help but smile a little at the stark differences of the picture before you. Simon’s big frame hunches over the baby and his large, scarred hands gently hold her, his face growing ruddy as more tears fall and he starts to sniffle. Meanwhile Bug is wiggling away happily as she lays against the warmth of his thighs, little fists swinging around, feet kicking excitedly at the sound of Simon’s voice. 

“I think she’ll be glad she won’t have to heal those piercings as an adult,” you say, carefully wiping his tears away. 

Simon chuckles at your comment, taking a tissue from Kyle to clean up his nose, “Yeah, I suppose it is easier now since she’s still sleeping on her back.”

“Plus think of all the jewelry we’ll get to buy her as she grows, toda chipleada.”

Simon gives a full laugh at that, his hands returning to bicycling Bug’s legs. His chest moves with the deep breaths he finally allows himself, his little girl’s infectious smile catching on his face too. What a beautiful, softhearted man he is. He turns to give you each a kiss on the forehead as you and Kyle lean against him, “I’ll have to start tucking away some more money for that then.”

By the time he’s bringing Bug down to the ground to get her moving and playing with her toys, his tears have stopped. A few sniffles pop up every now and then, but he’s smiling, his big, brown eyes warm with love as he plays with her. Simon slowly moves to lay down next to her, mimicking her as she lays on her tummy, his head resting against his folded arms. His eyes flick to her ears every now and then, as if he’s trying to keep an eye out for a potential reaction. But the more pressing matter turns out to be how hard her little hands grab at his face, pulling at his lip until he’s giggling too. He doesn’t flinch a single time. He never will, not with his loved ones. They’re the people he trusts with his entire being. 

~

Johnny’s the next one to come home, arriving just a couple of hours later. He comes in the door to find you’re all working on setting up lunch: Kyle is on table duty and sets out drinks, you’re finishing up shoving doritos into the sandwiches, and Simon is still in the living room with baby Bug. Johnny smiles so big his face hurts a little. There are few things he loves as much as just seeing his little family. He could have the single worst day at work, but coming home to yall? That fixes his entire world. 

He stands by the door, where he can see all of you, and throws his arms out, “My loves, my dearest ones, I am home.” 

You all turn to smile at him. Normally, you’d all come up to greet him with a kiss. It’s a cute little ritual he’s come to love. But you’re all understandably occupied, so it’s his turn to make rounds. He steps to you and Kyle in the kitchen first, pulling you both into his arms so he can place light, lingering kisses to your mouths.

“Feeling your lips against mine once again has righted the world,” his big declarations of love will never truly end, but yall well know just how ecstatic he is to be home again. He’s quick to steal a couple of chips from you, shoving them into his mouth before you can reprimand him. Kyle receives a quick swat to his bum and he chases after Johnny a couple of steps, mirth lighting both their faces.

Johnny jogs over to join Simon on the floor, giving him a careful kiss as well.

“Our sweet Bug, trying so hard to roll. What a perfect little-”

And you know he’s clocked it. The sunshine gleaming off her little studs catches his eye.

“What’s this?” he rises back to his feet, eyes darting to each of your faces.

 Simon is the first to try to address his concern, “She’s alright, love. Watch, she’s moving about like nothing happened.”

“No. No. She’s too small to be dealing with this,” Johnny’s pacing the room, hand in his hair as his eyes continue to bounce between your faces. He keeps looking down at his baby girl, the little gold in her ears still shining, her happy little babbling only stopping as she tries to pull Simon’s finger into her mouth. And still, Johnny paces. 

 “It’s perfectly safe for her age, and the shop was of the highest quality,” Kyle says, stepping into the living room as Johnny continues to wear a track into the carpet. The technical reassurance has him pausing for a moment, the hand clenched in his hair relaxing a fraction. 

“But why?” Johnny’s voice climbs a little higher. He’ll never shout at any of you, but the emotion has to come out somehow. “She’s so young. This could have waited.”

More and more questions and rationalizations sprout from his mouth as his pacing picks back up. He brings up his sisters, he brings up his ma. None of them got piercings until they were much older. Then they could pick what they wanted and where. He briefly mentions consent, worried that this means he’s also overstepped as a father. And at one point he just says the word “baptism” and lets out a long groan. Still, he paces. His eyes turn electric with the sheer need to understand. He’s spiraling.

“Johnny, it’s cultural,” you cut through his rambling. It stops him in his tracks. 

“Cultural?”

You give him a nod, and his shoulders ease down from their tense clench. 

“Well, why didn’t you say so? We’ll have so many cute options for her once they heal,” he says with a smile once again adorning his face, plopping down to join Simon and Bug. “Is there a sandwich for me too, or should I make my own?”

 You let out a breathless laugh, the boys look up at you from the floor, smiles toothy and proud.

Kyle covers his face with his hands for a moment, mumbling something to himself before going back into the kitchen, “Yeah, we already have one for you, you brat.”

~

When Price arrives home, he lingers by the door for just a moment, taking in all the sounds of his family chattering and giggling away. He’ll never say it out loud, at least not unless he’s directly asked, but the sound alone of all of you happy and healthy and safe rejuvenates him, adds another 5 years to his life every time. He smiles a little to himself as he puts his shoes into the rack, mindful of where he stores his pack too. You’ve been kind enough to help figure out a system to keep all their shit straight and easily accessible for coming and going, and he tries to reinforce it so much with the other boys that he’s not about to fuck it up.

He’s still smiling as he joins the rest of you in the living room. Price is expecting the usual big smiles and lunging for hugs, but instead, he’s met with all of you trying to talk over each other. Kyle’s on the floor with Simon, both with a hand to help Bug sit up, and you and Johnny are shoving and trying to push the other behind. He can make out Johnny saying the word “cultural” over and over again, but the rest is jumbling together. 

Price raises a single hand, immediately silencing the room, “You can all explain what exactly is going on, one at a time, but first I will make my rounds.” 

He makes his way around the room, carefully bending for a kiss from each of you. Truly, of all the rules yall have put in place, this is one of Price’s favorites, the greeting smooches for everyone when they come in the door. It gives yall a chance to reconnect, and it really helps him settle back into the peace of his role as a father and partner. He gets to focus on his family in these moments, and he wouldn’t trade that for the fucking world.

As he picks Bug up to give her her own little smooch, the commotion starts again, making him raise his hand once more. He looks over his sweet little girl, taking in her excited little noises and smiling in return.

“Gold looks beautiful on you, Bug,” he murmurs as he gives her another smooch, enjoying the little squealing his facial hair causes. 

You let out a little whoop and the rest of the boys give a joyous little cheer as well, immediately launching into how they can use this new development to best spoil their precious Bug. And that’s all there is to it. At least in that moment.

Later on, as you’re all getting ready for bed, you notice Price is still in the nursery. He’s messing with the baby monitor, turning it on and off a couple of times to check the battery, bringing it in as close to the crib as he can. All he needs to do is tap on it to check the mic to complete a full system check. And just as you’re about to call him to bed, he does just that. He turns at the sound of your chuckle, his face so pink you know it’s spread all the way down his neck.

“You bought the top-of-the-line monitor, remember, corazon? Todo ese dinero on fancy walkie-talkies,” you press the words against his chest as he holds you close.

“Can never be too sure.”

A couple of hours later, you’re trying to untangle yourself from the too-warm cuddle puddle and all the entangled legs when you notice Price is no longer in bed. But you hear it before you get too far in your search for him, his gravelly voice humming a song through the baby monitor. 

You walk into the nursery to spot him on the big rocking chair, his legs up and reclined as possible, Bug sleeping against his bare chest. 

“She’s wounded,” he croaks as you run your fingers through his hair, “she needs her daddy to heal.” 

You don’t bring attention to the way his voice is choked up with tears, “Claro que sí, papi.”

“You were her age when you got yours?”

“I was younger.”

“And it didn’t hurt?”

“Never.”

He goes quiet, relishing the feeling of her little back rising and falling under his hand as she breathes.

“Can we take her to the guest room? Sleep with her? At least for tonight?” his nervousness seeps into his voice as he asks.

You grab the baby monitor with you as you walk him towards the guest room, just so the boys don’t panic when they wake up. Thank god yall regularly maintain the guest rooms, it makes settling the pillows and bedding much easier this late at night.

Price shakes his head when you motion towards the center of the bed for him to lay Bug down. Instead, he climbs in alongside you, keeping a sleeping Bug on his chest.

“Just for tonight,” he whispers, “Just for tonight.”

In the morning, Kyle’s voice wakes you, “I don’t know how Bug does it. She sleeps better through his snoring than any of us.”

AN: Once again, HUGE fucking shoutout to @mikichko for encouraging this and also giving us Price's precious line of "she's wounded, she needs her daddy to heal." I can't thank you enough, Kiko.

[dontcarehowlongittakes]

its me again!! For this one can it be megumi x reader, the reader is a bubbly, adventurous, curious and silly person but their extremely kind and witty. [also smart, and sassy at times] The scenario can be just them doing stuff together like baking, going to a playground, coffee date, its your choice!

— a taste of your love.

synopsis. megumi’s had his fair share of having people who’re energetic, loud and annoying— much to his distaste— though deep down, he knows he loves them; no matter how much he tries to deny it.

although, he just can't help but want a taste of you— a taste of your love.

genres/themes. megumi fushiguro x reader, fluff, golden retriever and black cat dynamic, baking with megumi!, megumi silently admiring reader LMAO, two idiots in love, megumi is learning to love the reader (precious boy omg)

yoi's notes. hello! senkyu for making this request ! < 3 i wanna feed shiro and kuro the best dog biscuits that ever exist, just wait till i summon them. (/j

... unless? LMAOO)

word count. 1.3k

megumi was still in the process of understanding you.

now, now— don’t blame him, that poor guy has been surrounded by highly energetic people all his life— be it tsumiki, his oh so nice sister— though, sometimes too sweet for her own good— or his friend yuuji— simply a ball of sunshine, that guy was; although he was a bit… naïve at times, or satoru— his ‘benefactor’ (also the guy he didn’t like to admit was his father figure) — often regarding him as an annoying, loud idiot.

but strangely enough, megumi had learnt to love them all the same— something that came from deep within, something that was hidden under his aloof demeanour.

and oh he simply despised to admit it to himself— to admit that he actually cared.

“ ’gumi, hand me the chocolate chips, will ya?” your voice said, drawing him out of his reverie— a simple blink and he was reaching up for the ingredient in the cabinet, hands strangely having a mind of their own.

dark green eyes searching your own as he placed the container on the kitchen counter, lips slightly parted as if he wanted to say something—

yet no words came out. you always rendered him speechless, both literally and emotionally.

“aw, thanks!” watching your eyes light up in the way it always did whenever he did even the bare minimum— megumi didn’t try to notice how his heart skipped a beat, didn’t try to notice how he swallowed a lump in his throat that had formed without him realising.

didn’t try to admit how much he craved your attention— didn’t try to admit how much craved you.

“did you get the cakes for shiro and kuro? poor things, i can’t eat this infront of them,” you tut, stirring the brownie batter with practiced precision, and megumi didn’t miss how your eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly when you did so; how your teeth habitually dug into your bottom lip whenever you were focused— oh how he couldn’t help but notice every damn thing about you.

it almost annoyed him.

you turned your head to face him, the hint of a smile that was always there with you still playing at your lips— “oi, earth to fushiguro. what’re you thinkin’ ?”

keyword: almost.

“i have,” megumi answered, trying to sound stoic but even he didn’t miss the slightly hoarse undertone of his voice— making his ears turn a delicate shade of red. “don’t worry ’bout it.”

“ooo-kay, okay,” you chirped, letting out a small laugh— god, why were you even laughing?— now you’ve made his cheeks pink.

and yet, the boy wanted nothing but to hear the sound of your laughter again and again— until it would be embedded into his very soul, like some forbidden memory only he could reach.

“hm.”

slender fingers of his rested against the cool tiles of the kitchen counter as he turned his head in your direction as you worked, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but just stare— eyelashes fluttering so delicately against his pale skin that one might just think that he didn’t want to close his eyes.

and so he didn’t.

how could he? you were there. before his very eyes.

you and your pretty eyes which seemed to shine no matter how dark the world got, you and your kindness that stood out like a sore thumb against the crowd— you and your insufferable self—

you.

megumi’s gaze lingered on your form, eyes skimming over the smallest of details— every little scar, every little movement of your hand that caused a vein to twitch, every little, though barely visible, freckle or mole.

and for a moment, he wanted nothing but to just step over and bury his nose into his your hair and breathe in your scent, pull you into his arms and never, ever let go—

“you’re staring.”

and oh how he turned red— his breath catching in his throat whilst he blinked, looking at you with almost a comically bewildered expression— cheeks flushing such a pretty shade of red that you secretly vowed to yourself to do anything in your wits to make him blush like that again, and again.

“i— . . . uh,” megumi stuttered, mentally cursing himself for even falling for your unintentional charms— how he loathed, yet relished in that cheshire grin of yours, “ ’m not.”

“yeahh, sure you aren’t, ’gumi,” you cooed, a small snicker escaping your lips, and ah how the boy’s ears turned a deeper shade of red as he found himself growing more and more flustered by the passing seconds.

“don’t call me that.”

he tried to ignore the way your eyes lit up even more at his half-mumbled reply— grin widening even more in a way that almost made you look so dumb with how much you were smiling— but then again, that was one of the reasons why megumi was so hopelessly in love with you.

“oh? you don’t like it, hm?” snickering, you dipped a finger of yours into the rich brownie batter— holding it out to him in a silent invitation to taste it, all the while you held that damn smile on your face.

how he wanted to roll his eyes— like he usually did whenever someone else tried to pull a similar stunt— oh how he wanted to respond with a blunt retort that was somehow always oh the tip of his tongue, how he wanted to be annoyed by your teasing.

so, of course, he quietly stepped forward— gently bringing your finger up to his lips to taste the batter— of course he wanted to feel your touch on his lips for a little while longer.

it was always different with you.

“i have a name,” megumi grumbled, eyes looking anywhere but your face— fingers reluctantly letting go of your own, his free hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “the batter’s alright, by the way.”

“of course you have a name,” you huffed out a small laugh, transferring the brown liquid into a container, “though, i do distinctly remember you acting all grumpy when i called you megumi instead of ’gumi the last time we had a sleepov—”

“shut up,” he said in a slightly harsh tone, but you knew better than to take it seriously— partly because you were just too much of a light-hearted person to do so and partly because you knew that megumi needed time to process his feelings.

“mhm, okay,” you tittered, shaking your head as that smile never left your face— letting out a small gasp as you felt strong yet hesitant arms wrap around your waist from behind, and oh how your heart skipped a beat whilst you turned back to glance at him over your shoulder.

megumi nuzzled into the crook of your neck; dark locks spiking up in the same way which you adored so much whilst obscuring the view of his eyes in such a pretty manner that made your heart swell— arms wrapped in a tender yet firm grip, as if he was afraid to break you if he held on too tight— yet too frightened by the possibility that you might disappear the moment he let go.

“you’re so . . . annoying,” he mumbled against your skin, still refusing to meet your gaze, earning a hum from you in response.

“d’you hate it, though?” a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips whilst you tapped the container against the countertop, making the batter even out.

“yes,” he replied, but you knew better— of course you did, you always did— a pause of his movements, hands around your waist tensing up for a second before he spoke up again— “ . . . no.”

you could only let out a small chuckle in response.

“as i thought.”

understanding you and himself would take some time, he knew that.

but for once, megumi wanted to understand— wanted to know you, wanted to have a taste of you— a taste of your love.

☆ @dontcarehowlongittakes on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works without my permission.

[mandiemegatron]

ᴋɪᴅ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʜɪꜱ ᴇɴᴅ ɢᴀᴍᴇ. ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ. ꜱᴜɪᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴀɢᴇꜱ. ᴍᴅɴɪ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴀʙᴇʟᴇᴅ 18+.

ʟᴀᴡ'ꜱ ᴠᴇʀꜱ.

It was a strange moment, when Kid realized he didn't want anyone else but you.

Watching you laugh and joke with those closest to him on the crew made his heart swell, though if one looked at him, you wouldn't be able to tell.

You always bothered him, as he would say, constantly checking up on him while he hid away in his workshop, bringing him snacks and drinks and sometimes even sticking around for a chat.

You annoyed him by never backing down whenever he got in your face, always barking back at him with that defiant look in your eyes. You were the only one, (other than Killer), who never let him get his way. He hated it.

You constantly filled his head with images of how perfect you'd fit together, the way your smaller hand always found his metal one when walking around a new town. You made his heart ache with how you looked up at him with those wide, wonder-filled eyes whenever he showed you cool things, always taking an interest in what he had to say.

It was the way you shook thousands of beris in his face with a loud laugh, a proud expression across his face as you took everything Wire, Heat and Bubblegum had in their pockets. How you'd taken some of your winnings and folded them neatly before sliding the bills into the pocket of Kid's open shirt, a loving grin on your face as you told him to “treat himself to something nice.”

It was how your eyes light up and filled with happy tears as he pulls a necklace he'd been working on for you for months out of his pocket and held it out to you, staring off to the side with dark cheeks and demanding you take it before he changes his mind. Nothing made his heart race faster than seeing you wear it the next day.

It was the way you held his face in your hands, wiping away dirt and blood from his skin with a worried expression after a long and tedious battle with the Marines. The way your gentle fingers pressed over his scars without fear, tracing over each one as if committing them to memory.

It was the way you welcomed him into your room, heart open and pouring out to him when you'd had a little too much to drink. The way you clung to him and begged him to never toss you aside, to treasure you and show you what being loved was supposed to feel like.

It was the way you woke up the next day in his arms, his eyes half-lidded as he watches you slowly stir and look up at him with a smile that could shatter the stars, and the way your eyes fell shut as he pulled you into your first kiss.

It was a quiet and warm moment, when Kid realized he didn't want anyone else but you.

[pimosworld]

Only if you catch me

Pairing-Frankie Morales x f!photographer reader 

Series Summary- You meet Frankie when you least expect it. Both of you hiding from your past and trying to find each other won’t be easy, but it’s worth it if forever is with him. 

 Series CW-18+,MDNI, NSFW, Angst, hurt/comfort, Explicit Smut, D/S dynamics, canon typical violence, Tom is mentioned (but dead), The boys got the money, Frankie helping reader open up in the bedroom, mentions of past abusive relationships, recovering addict, PTSD, tough family relationships, healing through therapy, protective Frankie, protective TF boys, found family, reader is a photographer , no description of reader other than the nickname Flash. 

A/N- Coming soon. I don’t post regularly because life….but this fandom has kept me going through some dark times. I’ve been working on this for quite some time and I’m very proud of how far I’ve come as a writer. This is my first solo Frankie series and I can’t wait for you all to read it. 🤍

Chapters

1.Aperture

2. Composite

3.Flash

4.Blue hour 

5.Candid

6.Shutter

7.Overexposed

8.Focus

9.Absolute resolution 

Epilogue- Golden hour

[allimili]

[lovegasmic]

boys who spit on their cocks before you suck on it and call it an indirect kiss.

[avintmich]

Meow

[callsignfangs]

The 141 boys as widowers. (bc i feel like torturing myself /j)

141 x late (implied) spouse! reader

cws: grief, mentions of loss, implied alcoholism/alcohol as a coping mechanism, mentions self-destructive behaviour, very brief mention of addiction, etc (Please lmk if I've missed anything!)

(Note: This little drabble is a little self indulgent, a bit about my own journey with grief. Each little 'story' thing does end with acceptance. Please don't read if you're not in the right headspace, and remember that you're loved and you're not alone, and make sure to reach out if you need help <3)

--

Price is the one inclined to bargaining. Maybe he could've done something - what if he'd taken a bit more time off work, what if he spent more time with you, what if he'd agreed to retire early with you, what if he was there? Ironically enough - he just ends up drowning himself in more work, probably turns to smoking or alcohol in an attempt to drown everything out.

141, Gaz and Soap especially, will definitely be the only thing he holds on for. As capable as they all are, he couldn't just up and leave his boys without a captain - he couldn't make the same mistake over again, they gave him something to care for, to nurture and to look after.

I don't think he'll ever marry again - just making half-hearted attempts to peek into the dating scene whenever leave got especially lonely. He'd never be able to find anyone quite like you, so he eventually stopped bothering with it, finding warmth and comfort in himself and the other people he loved.

He keeps a photo of you, one of your handwritten notes, and any little trinket you'd given him at all times. Saved every single snippet of you talking he could - even still paying off your phone bill occasionally ringing your phone to hear your voicemail message, maybe sending you texts when things got especially hard. Definitely does chores the exact way you always did - from the time you went out to shop in the morning to how you stacked dishes. Loves hot showers but still takes a lukewarm one each morning because your habit of taking cold showers meant the water was never hot enough for him. I think he probably adopts something after the rough edges of the hole you'd left in his heart smoothed over.

It wasn't intentional in the slightest - maybe a stray cat had clung to his pant leg while he was on a hike or the task force managed to pick up an orphaned little kid on one of their excursions. He's very hesitant with them, still not quite trusting himself with caring for another being. But he warms up to them eventually. No matter human or animal, they've definitely been brought to your gravesite once or twice.

Maybe it would be alright, eventually. He'd at least have something interesting to entertain you with the next life he found you.

--

Soap is definitely in denial. Convinces himself it's a mistake - that when deployment's finally over, he'll trudge home, kick off his boots, and be met by his sweet love, bouncing at his heels like an overeager puppy and lathering his face in flittering little kisses. He still avoids coming home like the plague - resorts to anything from taking on way too many missions, to picking up another job on the side, even to staying in hotels as if he was in some sort of covert op.

He'd be forced to go back to your house eventually, though. Not home, it wasn't home without you there. Just the same four walls and roof he camped out in on deployment. Nothing warm or special about it.

He still pretended, though. Made your bed every morning the way you liked it and prepared meals for two every day.

While Price and Ghost undoubtedly pulled him out of his slump, Gaz was the person who really started him on the road to acceptance. Having the boys over near constantly was soothing, giving him something to occupy his mind with and overshadowing the cold emptiness of the house. The occasional cuddle piles and game nights reminded him of the warmth of their bond - like the nights they spent on stakeouts, letting their own sweet joy shield them from the brutal realities of their situation.

Gaz was the first person he cried to. Soap couldn't bear the way his buzzed sides were starting to fluff out, but he'd slowly gotten used to letting your gentle hands preen him and tidy him up. Of course, Gaz had noticed, and of course, he'd insisted that Soap just had to let him have a go at doing up someone else's hair. Soap didn't know when he'd devolved into tears - somewhere between the first gentle touch he'd felt in weeks and the crippling realisation that you'd never be there to do it again.

Either way, he'd managed to cry himself to sleep in Gaz's arms that night. He continued to sob himself away for weeks, filling each day with tears.

Until each day turned into each few.

And each few turned into once a week.

And slowly, his tears dried up.

It was an arduous process, grieving. But he stubbornly forced through it, just as he'd forced his way into your heart.

And he did his very best not to change. He determinedly kept the mohawk - even used the same shampoo because it made his hair feel perfectly fluffy under your touch. He did his best to continue being his perky, bubbly self, because he knew how you practically basked in his energy.

However, he still let himself grow, let his hawk grow out so he could braid it the way he'd always considered, and he let himself have his bad days, didn't force himself to keep up his energy when he didn't really have enough.

Admittedly, though, he never married again. He found temporary enjoyment in little flings, though he let them pass when the time was right. No matter what, he always came back to your house.

Sure, it wasn't quite home without you there. But you'd been there - no matter how little the time you'd had together felt in hindsight - so maybe he could learn to make it home again. For you.

--

Gaz is angry - furious to the point of enraged tears. If it was him? He'd understand. He'd hurt people, torn apart lives and taken his fair share of them. He deserved it. But you? It wasn't fair. In his eyes, you couldn't possibly hurt a fly, so delicate and tender and so, so soft. It just wasn't fair.

His attempt at coping is to delve headfirst into a tedious slew of missions - one after another after another. It gives him something to dump all his blind rage and hurt and desperation into. His morals were a writhing, flailing, unrecognisable mess for a long time, and the best comfort he could find was in the chaotic monotony of work.

So what if he burned everything in his path to ash? At least the threat was dealt with.

Price and Ghost are the most essential to his recovery. He needs guidance, needs some sort of structure, and needs to relinquish the tight hold on his need to be good, to fix things, to help, to finally restore what he was so reliant on, even if that meant tearing himself to shreds in the process. What he needs is time to grieve, time to come to terms with the unforgiving reality - that it just happened. No-one did anything wrong, there was no violence or intent, it just happened.

He'll absolutely come to deeply regret everything he did in his grief-induced warpath, but eventually accept that he was hurt and lost and just needed the help - the intervention.

Like Price, I think he might attempt to put himself out there and find someone new every once in a while, maybe even builds up to a couple dates, but he never really finds interest in anyone. He definitely remains friends with many of the people he meets, but he just can't quite find a spark - mainly because they're not you.

He never throws out anything of yours, his wardrobe is still mostly full of random articles of your clothing, and the third drawer on the nightstand is still yours.

He always wears something of yours when he goes out, from shirts and shorts to hoodies, even some of your jewelry.

Despite it being admittedly pretty late, he finally watches all of the shows you liked and reads all the books you did. It makes him feel closer to you - cuddling up under your favourite blanket in your favourite spot and picturing you being there with him, imagining each and every one of your reactions, practically seeing your lovely face curl with smiles as you commentated over the whole thing.

Sure, you weren't really there with him anymore, but the sweet, warm mark you'd left on his heart was enough to carry him over until he inevitably returned to you.

--

Ghost is mostly depressed. He's so agonisingly hurt and lost, but you were his sun - what gave him life and love, and without you? He just couldn't muster up the energy to do anything beyond simply existing. Even he'd expected himself to crash and burn - follow in his brother's footsteps and drown in a spiral of addiction. But he just... Didn't. The affirmation that he didn't blow up and take everyone he loved down with him would be reassuring, comforting, but it wasn't. Not without you whispering praise in his ear, assuring him of his goodness and softness.

I think he'd also be reliant on Soap and Gaz, but Price would be a surprisingly big factor as well. No-one could ever really replicate the effect you had on him, the way your encouragement kept him going, but having some amount of structure, of motivation? It helped. Despite that, he absolutely tried to push them out at first, convinced that the acrid shadow of death looming over his shoulder would eventually take them as well. What are task force 141 if not determined and unfathomably stubborn, though, especially when it came to caring for their own.

Soap undoubtedly led the charge - seeing as his ceaseless energy and affection were mildly more normal (god knows Simon needed a little bit of comforting normalcy). Gaz came second, still snarky and headstrong as ever, but with softened edges and an air of gentle care. Price was last. He'd been there before Simon was Ghost, he was aware enough to piece bits of his past together - and he'd be damned if he managed to scare Simon, if he was the reason he regressed further. So he was tender. Delicate, even. Ghost would despise being handled like fragile porcelain in Price's kid gloves, but it soothed a part of Simon that hadn't peeked out since you left.

It'll take a bit longer than the others - more therapy, reassurance and care, but he'll recover eventually, let the wound you left in his porous heart scar over and go on as best he could.

I don't think he'll look for romance again either - his interest in it just died out alongside you. He wants to preserve the sanctity and tenderness of what you had, and is more than content with holding that love in his heart, and keeping it safe for you until he meets you again.

After you're gone, he attempts to follow your advice more, occasionally dragging himself out of his comfort zone, picking up new hobbies and trying to emulate your passion for life in himself, keeping a little bit of you alive with him. He absolutely douses the house in your favourite fragrance, refuses to use any hygiene products other than yours and carries something of yours everywhere, whether it be your ring or even your purse, just something to remind him he had to look after things (including himself) for you.

Even if you were cremated or buried in some other way, he'd ensure there was a gravestone for you placed alongside his mother, Tommy, Beth and little Joseph. You'd always be part of his family - his heart, and when his time came? He'd be buried alongside you, trailing along with you into whatever came next. By your side forever.

<3

Yippee. This was. A journey. /lh

Sorry if this isn't formatted the best, it was more of a massive brain dump that I forcibly shoved into something just about understandable lol

If you're seeing this, tyvm for reading mwah 😚😚

[magneticallyyours]

MASTERLIST OF FANDOMS I WRITE FOR/ACCEPT ASKS FOR (characters may vary, drop an ask to confirm)

Current fixations in bigger font.

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

1) X-Men (movies, mostly. To avoid inaccuracies)

2) Marvel Cinematic Universe

3) The Matrix

4) Call Of Duty

-> Reboot, Zombies, and OG makarov.

5) Star Wars (also movies/series, I haven't read EU stuff)

6) Resident Evil

7) Honkai: Star Rail

8) Hitman

9) Detroit: Become Human

10) Bleach (I haven't watched TYBW yet)

11) Inglorious Basterds (the Tarantino movie)

12) Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul

13) Fallout (Only Maximus, Lucy, and The Ghoul)

14) The Boys

15) OVERWATCH

16) Bayonetta

17) Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance

18) Devil May Cry

19) JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

[pimosworld]

Just say the word

Pairing-Tf boys x reader (one shot)

CW-18+, NSFW, MDNI, established polyamorous relationship, light teasing, edging, voyeurism, orgasm denial, exhibitionism, possessive tf boys, mentions of smut, fingering, soft dom Will, soft dom Santi, soft dom Frankie. Unsuspecting victim ( poor Jack) he’s innocent in this I swear.

Summary- The boys decide to have a little fun at your expense.

WC- 1.7k

A/N- Set in the (story of us) universe but can be read as a stand alone. I feel like I’ve neglected this bunch since I finished the story and I miss them and their delusional little bubble. Please enjoy this ficlet set some time after the story of them ends and their relationship begins.

[Series Masterlist]

Not beta read

It feels weird being back in your normal spots. Nestled away in the corner booth in the dimly lit bar. All five of you crammed in like nothing has changed. Except it has. 

  This thing forming between the five of you for the last several months. No rules, no pressure, just the four of them not being able to let you out of their sight for more than five minutes. It’s intoxicating and overwhelming and you love it. 

  You are situated between Frankie and Santi, Will on the other side of Frankie sharing glances. Knowing tells as you squirm in your seat. Santi’s hand squeezes the plush skin of your thigh while Frankie rubs soothing circles against your knee. It all looks so normal to anyone walking by. They’ve been teasing you all night, switching places as they grab more drinks at the bar or head to the bathroom. 

  Will grins as he watches you fidget, not so subtly rubbing your legs together at the thought of his hands so close to where you needed them most. Not less than ten minutes ago he had you pleading into his ear like you were telling him a secret. His fingers tracing up and down the seam of your panties, wetness pooling against the fabric as you chased his touch. 

  Goosebumps raise on your arms as Santi’s fingers slip just past the string, curling in so precisely, you half to clear your throat to stifle the moan that crawls up the back of your throat. 

  “Ya ok sweetheart?” Will says and the look you flash is equal parts beautiful and terrifying all at once. 

  Santi kisses your shoulder, such a sweet endearing gesture to juxtapose the absolute filth that is happening below the table. “She’s fine.” A look to Frankie, something unspoken passing between them as the corners of Frankie's eyes crinkle with a smile. 

  You bite the inside of your cheek as his thumb presses against your clit. Dropping your head to your hands to wipe the sweat from your brow. 

  “Just say the word baby and we’ll stop.” Frankie’s voice in your ear luring you into the lion's den. You weren’t going to lament that easily. 

  Your hand drifts below the table, palming at the growing bulge in his pants, you yelp when he smacks your thigh. His palm soothes the spot as you let out a shaky breath. 

  “Hands where I can see them sweetheart.” Will commands. 

  “Fuck you.” 

  “Thirsty?” Ben’s voice cuts through the pounding in your ears. His one hand with a refill pitcher of beer, the other gesturing behind him as he mouths ‘be nice.’

  Following close behind with an empty glass is a familiar face. Not one you don’t want to see on any given day,  but right now you’re struggling to breathe normally. 

  “Fucking Jack.” Frankie bites out and you regard him with a quirked brow. 

  “I thought you liked him.” Your head turned in a whisper and he just lets out a deep sigh. 

  It’s not that he doesn’t like him so much as he knows how much the guy likes you. Judging by the grin etched across his face as he approaches the table. 

  Santiago withdraws his hand and you whine at the loss, disguising it with a cough as Ben shoots you a worried look. 

  Everyone reaching for the cold glasses as Jack slides into the booth next to Ben. You watch Santi from the corner of your eye, slowly taking his fingers in his mouth. The others preoccupied with greetings as he hums at the taste. 

  Your mouth agape at the filthy show of dominance. He takes a sip of his beer, his dark eyes on you as he swallows and you watch the way his throat bobs. 

  “You’ll catch flies that way cariño.” 

  You tamp your mouth shut as heat licks up your spine. 

  Frankie slides you a beer as a peace offering and you let out a breath hoping the torture is over with your new guest at the table. 

  Jack says your name and you probably look a little wide eyed when you say hello. Sounding a little too happy to see him. Completely unaware that whatever tension building right now is not directed at him. 

  “Haven’t seen you guys here in awhile.” He says as he pours himself a beer. 

  “We’ve been…busy.” The boys snicker as Ben hides his smile behind his glass, unbeknownst to Jack. 

  “What have y’all been up to? Any hot dates recently?” 

  The boys stay quiet, shooting each other looks as Frankie’s hand starts inching it’s way up your thigh. 

  He nudges Ben with his elbow. “Oh come on, spill. I know you’ve at least got some.” 

  Ben laughs it off, eyes flicking to you and memories of your date the previous night. He looks shy almost as he rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t.” 

  You’re starting to gauge their annoyance at his presence. 

  Frankie doesn’t falter as he pinches the fabric between his fingers and you clamp your thighs shut. Your sandals clicking loudly on the floor. 

  Santiago laughs, motherfucker…with a stupid grin on his face and Will has to bite down on his lip to keep his at bay. 

  “In fact.” Jack starts up again. Pointing at Santiago.  This guy doesn’t quit apparently. “Last time I saw you here you had some hot blonde in your lap.” 

  He drops his head to the table and for his sake he looks apologetic. “I don’t recall.” The redness creeping up his neck and the simmering tension below the surface. 

  Frankie relents when he notices your obvious discomfort. They’ve been edging you all night and now this Jack off had to come and ruin all the fun. 

  “What about you honey? You seeing anyone?”

  Bingo

  His attention on you, a wide smile on his face. He draws his fingers up and down the condensation on his glass and you have the sudden wild thought to pour it on you. Anything to escape this fresh hell. 

  He wasn’t an unattractive man. Tall, broad shoulders and a strong jaw. Gorgeous head of dark brown hair that was always kept neat and combed back. He’s a firefighter so he’s got a great build and he can on occasion make you laugh. 

  Which is perhaps why the rest of the table looks as though they’re three seconds from choking him. 

  Frankie’s hand flexes a little on your thigh, Ben cracks his knuckles and stares straight ahead at Will whose jaw is so clenched you think he might break a few teeth. 

  And Santiago…looks as stoic as you’ve ever seen him. Too calm. 

  “Baby.” Frankie’s voice and the startling use of the pet name brings you back to the present. “He asked you a question.” His head tilted in waiting. 

  You fumble for words you’ve never actually spoken out loud. Not knowing what the right or wrong thing to say is. “I’m…keeping my options open.” 

  That seems to be the right answer for now. Santiago gives you a reassuring squeeze as he resumes drinking his beer. You can feel Frankie relax next to you and Ben’s shoulders aren’t reaching his ears. 

  Will still watches Jack, who obviously can’t take a hint. 

  His tongue dragging along his teeth as he eyes you from across the booth. For the sake of his safety you don’t want to let him finish whatever thoughts he has running through his head at your admission. 

  You slap your hands down on the table. “I’ve had too much to drink.” Signaling to Frankie and Will to slide out so you can relieve yourself, or at the very least get some space between you and Jack. 

  Someone has the nerve to pinch your ass before you exit the booth and curse low under your breath as you retreat to the restrooms. You were absolutely going to kill them when you got home later. 

  —

  The blatant flirting, the casual use of your sacred nickname, the way he’s not so subtly checking out your ass as you walk away. 

  The guys aren’t certain but Jack acts as though he’s not in clear immediate danger. But he’s a firefighter so the regard for his life is skewed toward running at a problem and not away from it. 

  As you round the corner disappearing from view he focuses his attention back on the table. Whistling low under his breath as he shakes his head still oblivious to the rage closing in on him. 

  “I still don’t know how one of you hasn’t snagged that yet.” Jack says offhandedly as he downs the rest of his beer. 

  Ben takes it from him and Santiago flinches, unsure of what the younger man will do as he calmly slides it out of reach. 

  It’s one of those intense moments. In the wild we freeze it in photographs and videos. In the images there’s a predator, perhaps a cheetah staring unblinkingly at a gazelle, who stares back with a look of surprise and terror. 

  “How do you know we haven’t?” Ben’s body turns to face him as he clears his throat. 

  He stutters a little, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Look if I’m moving in on anyone’s territory you just say the word-“ 

  “You are.” Will says without specifying whose. 

  Will stands as you make your way back to the table and Jack stands with him, waving goodbye. Frankie stays seated, not yet able to hide the evidence of his arousal. The whole display not doing anything to compress his excitement. 

  The guys all shift as you slide in, Will taking his seat next to you as Frankie throws his arm over your shoulder and he can see the wheeler turning in the poor man’s head. You never stood a chance.

  “Leaving so soon?” Your sweet voice doing nothing to disguise your obvious guess at what just transpired. 

  “Ugh…ya I’ve got an early day tomorrow.” He offers a tight lipped smile before walking away with his tail tucked. 

  Frankie’s laugh jostles you and you move to slap his arm as he grabs your wrist. “Play nice hermosa.” 

  You huff as you pry it out of his grip. “What did you guys say?” 

  You’re met with mostly silence and their grins at each other and just like that you’re right back where you started the night. Them, teasing you…and you loving it. 

  Will’s hand slowly creeps up your thigh,bunching the fabric of your skirt in his hand as he leans in close. “Now where were we sweetheart?”

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

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[strawberryrnilk]

This only applies to me but…

Imagine the boys are at the restaurant/pub you work at, the footy is on the tv, england is doing a bit shit and the boys are groaning about it when the other team scores, clearly upset with their team but i’m over here, bringing them their food and next round, cheering for the other team. This continues till the game is over and england lost, i’m over the moon, happy to see the score. The boys are not.

My shift is over and they follow me out to my car, they follow me home, and they break in and take out their frustrations out on me for voting for the ‘wrong’ team :)

[ultravioletrayz]

𖤓MASTERLIST𖤓

overall m.list!

SPIDERVERSE

Featuring: Miguel O'Hara, Lyla, Peter B. Parker, Spider-Man Noir

CALL OF DUTY (MW2)

Featuring: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Cpt. John Price, Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish, König

THE BOYS {coming soon!}

Featuring: Soldier Boy, Billy Butcher, Homelander, Queen Maeve, Victoria Neuman

MARVEL {coming soon!}

Featuring: James Logan Howlett, Wade Wilson, Scott Summers, Eddie Brock + Venom, Moonknight, Tony Stark

JUJUTSU KAISEN {coming soon!}

Featuring: Toji Fushiguro, Nanami Kento, Higuruma Hiromi, Shiu Kong

ATTACK ON TITAN {coming soon!}

Featuring: Eren Yeager, Reiner Braun, Jean Kirstein, Connie Springer, Ymir, Historia Reiss, Mikasa Ackerman

MISC. CHARACTERS {coming soon!}

Featuring: Tangerine (Bullet Train), John Wick

enjoy!!