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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Text

Tethered.

The lines of friendship blur when you’re this close. Also known as - each of the times you’ve kissed Benny, Frankie, Santiago and Will.

Pairing - Benny Miller, Frankie Morales, Santiago Garcia, Will Miller x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, sexual content, mentions of sobriety

Word Count - 5523

Author's Note - by popular demand!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, it was so helpful!! don't worry, there is still a stewy hosseini fic coming very soon. i love writing for the triple frontier boys, so if anyone has any requests or particular thoughts, please send them my way. i'm also a total will girly, if you couldn't tell. as always, lots of love <3

my other triple frontier fics - Time, Tranquility and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

Will’s strong hand rubs steady circles into your thigh under the table as you all hunch over laughing.

Benny’s telling the story of his bad date from the night before. The combination of his masterful storytelling and the whiskey that seems to be refilling itself is making you giddy, all of you high on the joy of being with your best friends. There’s no feeling quite like it, laughing until you cry.

“Wait, that doesn’t explain why she slapped you!” Santiago exclaims from opposite you, clapping Benny on the back.

“She slapped me because, it turns out, I’d kissed her best friend a few months ago. She called me a dog and everything,” he laughs, tears escaping from his eyes. “She had a strong hand!”

“Did you know who she was when you saw her?” Frankie asks, genuinely intrigued.

“I realised as soon as I sat down. I didn’t know it’d be a problem! Man, fuck blind dates,” Ben chuckles.

“Am I crazy for not seeing the issue here?” Santiago asks, looking around the table.

“I didn’t see it either, apparently. It’s not like me and Lucy ever went anywhere. It was just a kiss.” Benny’s face is scrunched up in confusion. It makes you want to smooth your thumb over the crease between his brows.

“She was giving me the look, I swear,” he continues. “So I went in for the kiss, and she hit me.”

The boys are all laughing again, and as guilty as you feel, you can’t help but join them. Benny has such an animated, expressive face, that even the most boring of stories are entertaining when being told by him. It’s a gift. He just has a way with people.

“What do you think, hermosa?” Santiago asks, looking at you pointedly. “Would you kiss someone your best friend has kissed?”

“I don’t know,” you reply carefully. “Depends on the situation, I guess. I’d try not to, I think.”

Will’s looking at you with amusement in his eyes, slight smirk on his face. It’s clear that no one is putting the pieces together.

“Would you, Santi?” you question, lips quirking up at the corners.

“Probably not. I’d avoid it, if possible,” he replies.

The whiskey is making you braver than usual, a warm buzz running through your veins. Without thinking, you laugh,

“Too late.”

Everyone looks at you, brows raised in confusion. Will’s grinning now, chuckling to himself quietly. You’re giggling at their faces, their naivety making you smile.

You watch as Frankie looks slowly around the table, and then back at you. Shaking his head, he catches your eyes and snickers.

“Minx,” he mutters, still smiling.

“Am I missing something here?” Benny asks, surveying the silent communication happening between you, Frankie and Will.

You sigh sarcastically and throw your drink back, downing it in one go. Well, we’re doing this, you think.

“I’ve kissed every single person at this table,” you start. “Which means you’ve all kissed the same girl your best friend has kissed.”

Santiago and Benny go silent for a moment, processing this new information. Will and Frankie are still smiling, already a step ahead.

“Wait, what?” Santiago finally speaks. “You have?”

“Oh no. Pope thought he was special,” Frankie laughs, head thrown back.

“Stop it, Francisco! You are special, Santi. It just so happens that they are too.”

You point generally at the other boys, all of them with their eyes fixed on you. You can see that Benny is still figuring things out, the alcohol making his brain work slower than usual.

“I’ve known you guys for years. We’ve been through a lot together. And you’re like, the four most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen! It was bound to happen sooner or later,” you justify.

Everyone’s laughing now, the final piece finally being put into the jigsaw. You can tell they’re all thinking back to their kisses – you are too.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Benny had been the first one to kiss you.

It happened right at the beginning of his boxing career. He’d started working out religiously, meal planning, prepping for his first big fight. He set strict rules for himself – no alcohol, no women, no sex. You were glad he’d found an output for his energy, glad he was taking something so seriously – even if the idea of him getting hurt did terrify you.

The four of you had gone to support him, eager to see him win after months of watching him train and prepare. He’d really committed to the process, which was a surprise – Benny was a notorious ladies man. He loved to relax with a beer. But he’d never broken his self-made rules, not once. No matter the outcome of the fight, you were insanely proud of him. All of you were.

The atmosphere in the warehouse was electric. It was a big venue, with hundreds of people gathering to spectate. You hadn’t realised this was such a popular event. Adrenaline buzzed through the air, making you antsy with anticipation. You and the boys had front row seats by the ring, allowing you the perfect view, the ideal place to support Ben.

“I’m gonna go get us some beers,” Santiago yells over the noise.

“I’ll come help you,” you shout back, linking your hand into his so you don’t get separated.

You make your way out of the double doors and down the hallway in attempt to find the bar. On the journey, you spot a sign that points to the locker rooms.

“You order, I’ll be right back,” you tell Santiago, before following the directions.

You push open the door and step into the locker room. Benny is sat on the bench, headphones blasting music so loud you can hear it from 10 feet away. You make your way over, and touch him on the shoulder gently. He doesn’t startle.

“I don’t want to disturb you, Ben. Just wanted to say good luck,” you say quietly.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit next to him.

“You could never disturb me, honey. You’re my good luck charm,” he winks, and the cheekiness of it warms your chest.

He pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you, breathing in the scent of your strawberry shampoo. You inhale with him, and soak up the heat that’s seeping into your skin.

“It doesn’t matter what happens out there,” you tell him. “I’ll love you no matter what.”

You press a kiss to his cheek, and throw a beaming smile at him before leaving. You find Santi at the bar, and help him carry the beers back to the boys.

You’ve never seen this side of Benny. He’s throwing and dodging punches like it’s second nature. The man moves like ocean waves, fluid and constant, never once caught off guard. There’s a lot to be said about the pastime of men fighting each other, but honestly, Ben has found his calling.

Electricity crackles through the air as Benny swings his last punch. His opponent falls to the mat as you rise from your seats. All of you instantly begin screaming, roars of celebration filling the space. Ben throws his fist in the air, signalling his victory. It’s rare, this feeling. The five of you don’t win very often. This needs to be savoured.

Eventually, the cheering dies down, and Benny leaves the ring to go and get changed. The boys are all ecstatic, chattering with pride in their voices about their brother, their teammate, their best friend.

“Be right back,” you tell them, moving to slip out of the doors and down the hallway.

You strut into the locker room, eyes scanning the space for the man you’re looking for. You find him stood, unwrapping his hands. Before you know it, you’re running into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he spins you. His bare chest is dripping with sweat. He’s covering you in it, but you couldn’t care less. You’re both laughing, joy and love filling the air.

“I’m so proud of you,” you breathe into his neck, still in his arms. Your feet finally find the floor, and you lean back slightly to stare up at him.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, pretty girl,” he beams at you.

You can feel the energy coursing through his veins. He’s thrumming with it, buzzing with adrenaline – it feels like he’s going to burst. He’s practically vibrating.

Before you can even register what’s happening, Benny pulls you back to him, smashing his lips onto yours. He skims his hands down your back to grab at the backs of your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist and press yourself into him.

The kiss is needy, desperate, pulsing - all teeth and tongue. Benny walks you backwards to slam you against the lockers, using the pressure of his body to lean forward into you. Your hands thread through his hair, pulling forcefully. He groans, deep and guttural, and it’s one of the most gorgeous sounds you’ve ever heard.

He’s grabbing at your ass as he dips his head down to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck, biting at the column of your throat. Your dress is practically around your waist, and you roll your hips forward, searching for friction. It’s your turn to groan now.

“Fuck, honey,” he murmurs. “Prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

He holds you up with one arm, and moves the other hand to twist into the waistband of your underwear. He’s pulling them down when someone bangs on the door, startling you both.

“Benny! Champion! Get out here, man, or we’re coming in!”

It’s Will’s voice, that deep tone instantly recognisable.

You pull your lips from Benny’s, your head dropping back against the locker with a clang.

“Shit,” he chuckles, gently pressing a kiss to your sternum.

“Shit,” you repeat, giggling gently.

Benny puts you down carefully, smoothing down your dress with those big hands of his. He fixes your hair next, sweetly moving it out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. He runs his thumb under your bottom lip, wiping where your lipstick has smudged.

“Do we look like we just made out?” you ask him, amusement evident in your tone.

“You do. I look like I just won a fight.”

He smiles at you, and you can’t help but smile back. God, this man. One minute he’s got you whining against the lockers, and the next he’s got you giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Come on,” you urge. “They’re gonna come busting in here any second.”

Right on cue, the door swings open, three men barrelling inside. They all jump on Benny, ruffling his hair and pulling him into a headlock affectionately. You watch from a short distance away, smile still etched on your face. You love them so much you’re worried your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

You look at Will, and find him smirking at you. Always a step ahead. Frankie grabs your wrist and pulls you into their celebrations. You’re being thrown around like you’re in some sort of whirlpool, dizzy with the joy of being with your best friends. You wouldn’t change a thing, even if you are a little lightheaded.

You catch eyes with Benny, and he winks. You know that the events of tonight aren’t going to change anything between the two of you. Your friendship is so solid, you’re convinced it can withstand anything. The five of you are connected, somehow. This unexplainable, invisible tether, binding you wherever you go. The kind of friendship that they write books about.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Frankie was the next person to kiss you.

Or maybe you kissed him. You’re still not sure.

The five of you were at a bar downtown, drinking and laughing. The boys were a few beers deep, muscles relaxing and minds quietening.

But not Frankie.

When he’d made the decision to get sober, he’d included everything. He wasn’t a man who believed in partially sober, or ‘California sober’. If he was going to commit, he was going to commit fully. Alcohol included.

Usually, it didn’t bother him. He could go to bars with his friends, happily crack open beers for them when they watched a football game, make a mean margarita when they hung out at his pool in the summer. But that night, he was on edge. He didn’t know why, couldn’t pinpoint any reason specifically, but he was on overdrive. His mind wouldn’t slow down - thoughts barrelling into him at a hundred miles an hour. He was debating going home to bed, before realising that he was designated driver. So, he’d sat back in his seat, taken a deep breath, and tried to pretend like he wasn’t about to combust.

You’d noticed. Of course you had. You, with your observant eyes, your careful gaze, your genuine smile. You’d noticed.

Will had too. He was keeping an eye on Frankie from across the booth, but he wasn’t worried. He knew you were watching him like a hawk. That reassured Will to no end.

“Oh yeah? Come on then, old man, put your money where your mouth is!” Benny’s yelling at Santiago, grabbing him by the bicep, up and out of his chair. You watch as he drags him over to the pool table, determined to prove himself.

No matter where you were, or what you were doing, somehow, Benny and Santiago always managed to turn it into a competition. You, Will and Frankie were always happy to watch – you usually ended up playing referee, only interfering when someone cheated or got too rowdy.

The two of them began setting up a game, leaving you at the booth with the other two.

“I’m gonna get some air,” Frankie says suddenly, standing up and making his way out of the door.

Will gives you a look of concern.

“I got it. Just make sure those two idiots don’t kill each other with pool cues, please,” you joke.

Will chuckles and nods, squeezing your waist as you move past him to follow Frankie.

Outside, you find him around the side of the bar, leaning against the brick wall. He’s breathing heavily, clearly trying to get a handle on things. You watch as he takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. He slides down the wall, sitting on the cool ground, legs bent in front of him.

You walk over and sit down next to him, ignoring the feeling of the cold concrete underneath your bare legs. You lean into him slightly, placing your head on his shoulder. He breathes you in, and you feel some of the tension melt from his muscles.

Eventually, you speak.

“You okay?”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer.

“Yeah, cariño, I’m okay,” he murmurs. “I’m usually fine in bars, it doesn’t bother me. Guess I’m just anxious tonight.”

You hum in understanding, before realising something.

“What’s today’s date?”

He looks at you with puzzlement written all over his face, but answers you anyway.

“March 16th.”

“Happy one year of sobriety, Francisco.”

You can see it all clicking into place in his head. The reason he’s been on pins all day, the reason he’s been so wound up tonight, unable to settle. You figured it out before he could. Clever girl.

“And I’m celebrating it in a bar, apparently. How appropriate,” he laughs. It’s a real, hearty, genuine laugh. You love when he laughs like this – so hard that he starts wheezing. It’s so endearing, it makes you want to cry.

“I can’t believe I forgot. A year ago, it was like, the biggest milestone ever. And I forgot.”

You can tell he’s almost disappointed with himself. But you’re not. No, quite the opposite, actually.

“You see how great that is though, right?” you ask him. “You’re so busy living your life now, working, being the best dad ever, that you didn’t even have to think about it. It’s not a bad thing that you forgot about it, Frankie.”

He pulls you closer, both arms wrapped around you, your head pressed into the crook of his neck.

“How do you do it, hermosa?”

“Do what?”

“Always know exactly what to say.”

“Years of knowing you, probably. Years of loving you,” you answer.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, but you hear him clear as day.

“No, I don’t deserve you. I’m so proud of you, Francisco.”

He pulls away from you to look at you earnestly. He smiles at you, and you grin back at him. If love could lift you up, you’d be floating, both of you levitating with it.

Frankie leans in closer to you, and you mirror the movement. You’re not sure who kisses who, but suddenly his lips are on yours, his hands moving to cradle your face. It’s careful, and it’s gentle, and it’s so full of gratitude and history that it takes everything in you not to break out into a grin. One of his hands moves through your hair as the other one caresses your cheek. You can’t remember the last time you were kissed so tenderly. Neither can he.

Unbeknownst to you, Will has come out to check on you both. He stops in his tracks when he sees the two of you wrapped up in each other. His heart swells in his chest, and he can’t help but smile. He knows that this won’t change anything between you and Frankie. It’s just the comfort he needed – you both needed. He makes his way back inside quietly, grateful for the both of you and the way you look after each other.

Eventually, you both pull apart. Frankie rests his forehead on yours, and takes the first full breath he’s taken all day. His shoulders relax, his jaw unclenches. He’s okay, thanks to you.

“Thank you, cielito,” he murmurs.

“For what?”

“Everything. Knowing me better than I know myself. Knowing all of us better than we know ourselves.”

“Someone’s gotta keep you all alive,” you grin, and he chuckles, the vibration of it settling into your bones, warming you up from the inside out.

He pulls you back against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You both sit against the red brick, cold ground underneath you, for what feels like hours.

“There they are!” Santiago yells when he spots you both.

“Mom, Dad, can we go home?” Benny jokes, clearly down one drink too many.

“Of course we can, baby,” you smile, pulling Frankie to his feet with you.

You all clamber into Frankie’s truck – you riding shotgun, the other boys crammed in the back. You reach for your drivers hand, and interlace your fingers, resting your palms in your lap. You hold onto him all the way home, and can’t help but notice how much lighter he seems.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Santiago kissed you next.

The five of you were having a pool day at Frankie’s, trying to cool down in the Texan summer heat. It was rare, for all of you to have the same day off, so you planned to make the most of it.

The four boys were already in the backyard when you arrived. Letting yourself in, you made your way through the house, briefly stopping in the kitchen to put your popsicles in the freezer. You’d purposely picked the strawberry ones, knowing they were Frankie’s daughters favourite. She was at her mom’s house for the week, but you knew she’d be back at the weekend.

“Hey, honey!” Benny yells when he spots you at the back door.

All of them turn to look at you, and you’re slightly taken aback by all the golden skin on display. Benny is wearing swim shorts with an inseam that can’t be any more than 5 inches, strong thighs just begging to be bitten. Will’s navy shorts compliment his blond hair beautifully, and Santiago’s green ones bring out the dark brown of his eyes. Frankie still has his shirt on, but it hugs his biceps just right. Damn, you think. I might just have the most attractive best friends in the world.

They’re all grinning at you as you survey each of them. You know they don’t mind being ogled just a little.

“Eyes up here, princess,” Santiago teases, no seriousness whatsoever in his voice. You scoff and throw your head back in a laugh, all of them simultaneously joining you in your amusement.

You put down your bag and kick off your shoes, before grabbing the hem of your dress.

“Give us a show, Miss Supermodel,” Benny whistles, winking playfully.

You peel your dress over your head slowly, wiggling your hips as you go. You’re left in a little black bikini that admittedly doesn’t leave much to the imagination. You don’t mind. You’re safe here.

They’re all whistling and cheering, make you laugh. You never feel more appreciated than when you’re with these boys. It’s everything. They’re everything.

“It’s like Sports Illustrated in real life,” Frankie grins, bumping your shoulder with his.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Will says quietly when you catch his gaze. You roll your eyes playfully, but smile at him genuinely, silently thanking him.

Your eyes flicker to Santiago. He has a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. It’s more than his usual appreciation. It’s hungry, hot, burning. It makes your skin prickle, the hairs on your neck standing up. You have to get away from his stare before you jump his bones right in Frankie’s backyard.

“Want me to make you a margarita?” Frankie asks, innocently breaking through the moment.

“Yes, please. That sounds amazing.”

He smiles at you before retreating to the kitchen, Benny following him in search of beer.

The heat doesn’t ease up all day. It’s sweltering, covering you all in a sheen of sweat that can’t seem to be wiped away.

Santiago’s gaze doesn’t help your warmth. Every time you look over, he’s surveying you carefully, eyes raking over your body in a way that makes your breathing quicken. There’s always been chemistry between you, sure. You have chemistry with all of the boys. But it’s never been like this with Santiago. Yes, you flirt with each other – it’s in both of your natures. But this is different. This is real.

You spend all day lounging around. Frankie keeps you topped up with margaritas as you make trips in and out of the pool, messing around with the boys. Benny hoists you up onto his shoulders in the water, throwing you up into the air as high as he can and laughing when you splash back down. You and Will throw a ball back and forth, doubling over when he overshoots and hits Frankie, who’s soaking up the sun in a lawn chair. In the late afternoon, Frankie fires up the grill, preparing to barbeque for dinner.

“Pope, you gonna help me?” he shouts from the deck.

Santiago looks at you, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, before joining him. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. There’s anticipation bubbling at the pit of your stomach, butterflies swirling. Warmth has settled in your core, and Santi’s heated glances are only fuelling the fire.

The sun finally gives you some respite in the early evening. You all settle on the grass, drinks in hand, laughing about nothing and everything. Benny’s telling you about his next fight, describing his opponent in hilarious detail. You look down, and realise your glass is empty.

“I’m gonna get a refill. Anyone want anything?” you ask, smiling as you watch Benny jokingly pretend to box his brother.

“Can you grab me a beer, princesa?” Santiago asks, pointed gaze trained on you.

You nod and make your way inside, praying that it’s cooler in the kitchen. The sun might have gone in, but the warmth in your core hasn’t left.

You reach into the fridge for the jug of margaritas that Frankie made earlier. You’re rising onto your tiptoes to fetch a new glass from the top of the cabinet when you feel a presence against your back. Santiago grabs one from the shelf and places it on the counter in front of you, leaning forward as he does it. His lips are brushing the shell of your ear, and you shudder out a breath.

“So you’re feeling it too, mi amor?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you breathe. You’re worried you might combust if he keeps speaking to you in that deep, low, raspy tone of his.

“Don’t know what’s gotten into me. Can’t keep my eyes off you,” he whispers. He feels a shiver wrack through your body and chuckles.

You turn around to face him, and he steps forward, caging you in against the counter, arms on either side of you. You can’t go anywhere. You don’t want to.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he practically purrs.

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, testing the waters. You catch it with your teeth and pull it into your mouth, biting down gently before sucking, not once breaking eye contact. He groans and tilts his head back, exposing his throat to you. You tangle a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, and give him a look that says I dare you.

Santiago surges forward to capture your lips with his. It’s desperate and needy - a perfect representation of both of your states all day. He slips a strong thigh between your legs and pushes upward, making you whine. You’re pressing yourself into him, trying to get as close as possible. His hands are everywhere all at once – your hips, your hair, your back, your ass. He wants to feel all of you, and can’t decide where to start.

You feel drunk off of him as he kisses you. His tongue is making you melt, his steady hands the only thing keeping you upright. You could kiss him like this for hours, surrendering yourself to this man you call your best friend. This man you’ll love forever.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t notice Will entering the kitchen. He clocks the situation in front of him and tries to exit silently, walking backwards out the way he came in. He knocks into the recycling bin, startling you and Santiago, causing you to jump apart and hit your head on the cabinet behind you.

“Shit, sweetheart, you okay?” Will asks, genuine concern etched on his face.

Santiago cradles the back of your head as he looks at you, eyes searching yours for any signs of pain.

“I’m good, I’m good, don’t worry,” you reassure them.

Will smirks at you and winks cheekily before he leaves, grabbing a beer on his way out.

“Oh god,” you groan, leaning forward to rest your head against Santiago’s chest. He strokes your hair lovingly, a laugh rumbling through him.

You both know Will isn’t going to say anything. He’s the most trustworthy one of them all. Always observing, never gossiping.

“Love you, hermosa,” he chuckles.

“Love you too, Santi,” you reply, wide smile painted on your face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Will was the last to kiss you.

It had been a long time coming.

Some people think Will is hard to read. He’s introverted, quiet, a wallflower of sorts. But he isn’t hard to read. Not really. You just have to know what you’re looking at.

He’d called you up one Sunday morning, asking if you had plans. When you’d told him you didn’t, he invited you over for a day of pancakes and terrible movies. It sounded perfect.

Which is how you found yourself lying on Will’s couch, legs tangled together, your back to his chest. His strong arms have found home on your waist, wrapped around your middle. You’re not sure how you ended up here, as you started the movie on opposite ends of the sofa. No one’s complaining.

It’s rare, this kind of intimacy. Casual, effortless, easy. No thought goes into it. You just fall into each other as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Will’s always had that gift. He makes people feel comfortable. No matter where you are, or what you’re doing, one look from those big blue eyes is all it takes to calm you down. It doesn’t matter if you’re being shot at on a battlefield, or just getting overwhelmed in a supermarket. Will’s there, and he knows exactly what you need. You’re convinced the man might be a mind reader, honestly.

He’s not, in fact, clairvoyant. He’s just a listener. No matter what you’re talking about, Will’s looking at you like you’re the centre of his universe. He’d be perfectly content to listen to your voice, to watch the way your eyes light up when you tell stories like this forever. You feel like the only girl in the world, as you lay here in his arms.

You’re deep in thought before you decide to break the silence, voice floating through the warmth of the room.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?”

You feel him hum from behind you before he answers softly.

“Every day since I met you.”

You nod gently before relaxing back into him, sighing in contentment.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?” he asks, mirroring your question.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think about kissing you, William,” you murmur.

His arms tighten around you slightly, pulling you impossibly closer. He presses a kiss into your hair, and another to your bare shoulder.

You sit in the silence for a while, letting the questions hang heavy in the air. It’s not awkward – no, it’s the exact opposite. It’s comfortable.

“I’ve kissed Benny, Frankie and Santi,” you confess quietly. You’re not sure why, but it just feels like something you need to get off your chest. You don’t want him to judge you.

“I know,” he speaks softly. He knows. Of course he does.

“Does it make you think differently of me?” you query. You almost don’t want to know the answer.

“Of course it doesn’t,” he replies earnestly. “Why would it?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t look good for me, I guess.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart. They’re your best friends. You love them. A kiss doesn’t have to change anything - not always, anyway.” He pauses. “Do you regret any of it?”

“Not at all,” you whisper.

“Exactly. We all think the world of you. You should know that by now.”

You shift and turn so that you’re sitting in between his legs, facing him. You press your forehead into his, and he smiles gently.

“I love you,” you say softly.

“I love you too,” he replies, grinning widely.

Suddenly, he jumps off the couch, pulling you up with him.

“Let’s go outside,” he prompts, dragging you out the door behind him.

“Will, it’s raining!” you squeal as he practically carries you into the backyard.

He grabs you by the waist and spins you around, both of you laughing. The downpour has drenched you both, clothes sticking to your skin, hair dripping. He puts you down and looks at you as if he’s reading the words off the very surface of your soul.

Gently, he pushes the hair out of your face, moving it to behind your ears. He uses his thumb to catch a raindrop that’s making it’s way down your cheek, swiping it away. You’re both soaked through, but you can’t feel the cold. You feel the warmest you ever have, love illuminating your bones.

Will leans down and presses his lips to yours. His hands are on your waist, and he pulls you closer, plastering you together. It’s tender, and it’s sweet, and it’s a perfect amalgamation of Will. You’ve never felt more at peace.

When he pulls away, you remember his words from earlier.

“Does this kiss change anything?” you ask, megawatt smile etched on your face.

“Everything, sweetheart,” he replies, grinning widely. “It changes everything.”

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

“You saved the best until last,” Will beams, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

The boys all scoff, laughing as they do it. You smile broadly, moving to peck his lips tenderly.

“Sure did.”

Benny and Santiago roll their eyes jokingly, while Frankie jabs them both with his elbows.

“Idiots,” he murmurs, still chuckling.

Will’s hand finds yours under the table. His fingers twist the ring you’re wearing absentmindedly, and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I love you, Mrs Miller.”

“I love you too, Mr Miller.”

“Guess I just had to kiss a few frogs to find my prince,” you wink at him, the whole table erupting into protests. You throw your head back in a laugh, your whole body vibrating with it. All four of them agree it’s their favourite sound in the world.

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rats-write · 8 months

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I’m Doing Flufftober With my Lovely Friend @lovelywriting666. Same Prompts but Different Characters <3

Flufftober Masterlist:

Day 1: Petnames - Alex Quackity

Day 2: Headcanons - Ranboo

Day 3: Cuddles - Wilbur Soot

Day 4: Date Night - Tommyinnit

Day 5: Falling Asleep Together - Tubbo

Day 6: Nightmare Comfort - Tubbo

Day 7: Reading Together - Alex Quackity

Day 8: Late Night - Charlie Slimecicle

Day 9: Marriage Proposal - simpbur

Day 10: Road trip - Garrett Watts

Day 11: Sharing Clothes - Wilbur Soot

Day 12: Baking Together - Ranboo

Day 13: Love Notes - Ted Nivison

Day 14: Scary Movie Night - JSchlatt

Day 15: Drawing Each Other - Ranboo

Day 16: Picnic Date - Tubbo

Day 17: First Kiss Memories - Fundy

Day 18: Friends to Lovers - Percy Dolarhyde

Day 19: Arts & Crafts - Ghostbur

Day 20: Shopping - Billzo

Day 21: Music - Ranboo

Day 22: Adopting a pet - JSchlatt

Day 23: Helping When Sick - Wilbur Soot

Day 24: Patching up wound - Tommyinnit

Day 25: Hobbies Together - Ted Nivison

Day 26: On a walk - Tubbo

Day 27: Watching a Meteor Shower - Billzo

Day 28: Coffee Date - Tubbo

Day 29: Self Care Night - Wilbur Soot

Day 30: Halloween Costumes - Charlie Slimecicle

Day 31: Going Trick or Treating - Charlie Slimecicle

My About Me

#alex quackity x reader #quackity x reader #ranboo x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #tubbo x reader #charlie slimesicle x reader #slimecicle x reader #simpbur x reader #Garrett watts x reader #ted nivison x reader #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #fundy x reader #Percy dolarhyde x reader #ghostbur x reader #billzo x reader #dreamsmp x reader #cowboys and aliens x reader

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anitalenia · 3 months

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━━ 𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒐 𝒅𝒖𝒎 𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒔 pt. 4

━━ 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 / 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔. the frontier boys as random tropes. ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ part one | part two | part three

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ Pope, Will, Benny, Frank x fem!Reader

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ ceo!Pope x assistant!Reader, lumberjack!Will x bimbo!Reader, bartender!Benny x fem!Reader, step dad!Frank x step daughter!Reader

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ sexual content, implied smut, graphic depictions of sexual acts, fantasized sexual content, blowjobs, depictions of fingering, pussy eating, inappropriate family dynamics you definitely shouldn’t partake in, inappropriate work relationships that you definitely shouldn’t do in real life (unless you want to purrrr💅🏻), a little long just cause I haven’t made one in a while, slight dark content in Franks section

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ sorry for the wait with this series, people really loved it actually, more than I thought they would. The begging for another part finally got to me, so here you go!!!! Hope you enjoy while I work on the next one 😭

━━ SANTIAGO ‘POPE’ GARCIA ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

CEO! SANTIAGO ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 desk in those cute little skirts and too tight dresses, always so busy and always so beautiful. He liked to stare out at you from his private office with a semi hard cock in his black slacks; a perfect view of your desk and the best view of you.

He could never get any work done of course, not properly anyway, too busy thinking about you and all the things you’d do for him if he asked. You always did what he asked, so eager to work and so eager to please. You, you with those black stiletto heels and those pink pouty lips, you, you with your sweet voice and your round hips — begging to be fucked good.

Nngh, just you.

He liked to call you into his office for no real reason other than his own selfish desires; he liked to see your hips sway when you walked and stare at your soft tits when you’d lean over — it’s what really got him through the tough days.

He loved to hear your soft giggles and see your cheeks go pink when he’d say something scandalously sly, something a ceo definitely shouldn’t say to their assistant, something a boss definitely shouldn’t say to their employee.

He’d take you on business meetings and lavish business trips, invite you to expensive business dinners and elite business parties, it was always business, business, business. He wanted more than that, wanted to take you out for real and show you how much of a gentleman he could be if you’d give him the chance.

Mainly, he wanted to show you how good he could fuck you, much better than any man could, show you how well he knew your body in ways you even didn’t, in ways no man did.

He’d have to clench his fists and hold himself back from fucking you on his very desk with his blinds open for all the horny temps to see — the ones who could never seem to leave you and your beauty alone, the ones who gawked at you in the break room, the ones whose grimy hands lingered on your arm for just a little too long…

That always pissed him off, having to see those puny fanboys of yours charade around your desk like prissy princesses and fight for your attention — it was pathetic and obnoxious. He couldn’t fire them like he wanted to though (unfortunately), too many lawsuits already being filed against him that he was too rich to really care about.

He had lawyers for that shit anyway.

Santiago, or Santi as he’s made you call him now, liked to watch you talk. He loved hearing your voice, seeing the way your lips moved and sparkled with gloss as you rambled on about some company he supposedly owned, pacing his office as he sat in his chair with his dick hard under his desk.

He’d clench his jaw and picture how those lips would look wrapped around his thick cock, your lipstick leaving stains all over him that he could admire later — maybe he’d even have you under his desk during meetings, sitting right between his legs with your lipstick smeared over your cheeks, and a sweet mix of your saliva and his cum dripping down his balls —

“Are you even listening to me?” You’d always scold him with your arms crossed over your chest when you’d notice his blank stare, pushing your tits up and giving him yet another fantasy he couldn’t get his mind off of.

He’d quickly snap out of whatever trance he was in, eyes flickering from your tits to your face, intense and twinkling — really thinking he was slick enough that you wouldn’t notice it. Then he’d let out a husky chuckle, his hand subtly palming his cock as he’d say, “Of course I am.”

You’d just roll your eyes and continue talking, oblivious to his arousal as he’d stare at your ass, your lips, your legs, his hungry eyes running up and down the length of your perfect body until he was so hard he physically couldn’t stand it.

But that was the norm for him.

For any other girl he had everything — the money, the power, the cars, the looks. He could’ve had literally any other girl he wanted yet he wanted you, yet he couldn’t have you.

You were so professional, always did your job perfectly and always did the right thing, the perfect assistant, the perfect employee, the perfect woman. Why, why, couldn’t you be one of those dumb slutty assistants who he didn’t give a damn about? The ones who didn’t bother to hide the fact that they were a slut, the ones who’d drop everything and suck his dick if he asked, even if he didn’t ask.

But no, you were you and you were so damn different from that and really, that made him want you even more. The fact that you weren’t a dumb girl but a mature woman, as flawless and elegant as rose petals and wine. He wanted you to break out of that persona, see your strong facade crack and crumble for him, for his love, for his cock.

He wanted to see that perfect red lipstick smeared over your tear stained cheeks, see that tight pussy gaping and wet and begging for him, see those lacy panties wrapped around your ankles as he’d fuck you hard and fast before a business meeting in just the way he knew you’d like, just hard enough so everyone could see the stumble in your walk and the tears in your eyes.

One day he was going to have that, one day. But for now he was just gonna have to stick with the lustful stares during crowded meetings and the not-so-innocent fantasies when you’d poke into his office.

One day he’d have you, one day… but for now he was satisfied with jerking his dick off in his office at the sweet smell of your lingering perfume. For now he was okay with imagining to throw you on his desk and fucking your brains out when you’d deliver his coffee in the mornings, his lunch in the afternoon, his dinner in the evenings… all the while staring at you from behind his computer with his dick so achingly hard he couldn’t focus on a damn thing.

All right, he wasn’t okay with it but what choice did he have? Bosses shouldn’t fuck their assistants, but damn, he couldn’t wait to break his own rule and see how easily he could make a good girl turn bad.

━━ WILL ‘IRONHEAD’ MILLER ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

LUMBERJACK! WILL ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 where you went. It was inevitable really; a pretty girl like you, wearing those pink skirts like you did, wearing those 6-inch heels like you did, wearing those tight tops like you did, in a town like this? It was really no wonder why you always got stared at.

It was just unfortunate that you were too dumb to notice that he was no better than the countless men that gawked at you, he was just better at hiding it.

You were the bosses daughter — dangerously beautiful and utterly unattainable (spoiled rotten too). You were a walking, talking Barbie in pink dresses and pretty purses; a pink, glittering ditzy princess who carelessly walked around the muddy work site in those cute heels of yours — William believed you were too beautiful to walk around in the filth.

You were the sweetest little thing he had ever met too — a butterfly in a battlefield — so giggly and cheery it drove him insane. The sound of your voice in his ears, your laugh, twinkling and sweet like sparkling water; he could only imagine how good you’d sound underneath him as he drove his cock into you nice and slow so you felt every vein, every ridge, every curve hitting that spot inside you that made you squeal.

Your father was a good man, had hired Will in a desperate time when he needed someone — something, constant. Ever since then Will had always been the best employee. He was the first hire and the only one to stay when things got tough. He put in the most hours, doing the most work, being the best lumberjack he could be for your father in repayment of his kindness. So for that reason Will had earned your father’s respect in more ways than one — for being patient, hardworking, loyal.

So sometimes Will would feel bad when he’d sneak into the bathroom after a rather short conversation with you; he’d slam the stall door closed and whip out his throbbing cock to relief some of the tension you had so dim wittingly caused.

He’d fuck his fist at the thought of you bent over the break room table he had left you at, cute mini skirt flipped up and giving him a perfect view of that pretty pussy he only prayed to see. He knew it was gorgeous, knew it’d be just as pretty as you, knew he’d be fucking addicted at the first taste.

Will was patient, level headed, a loyal worker who’d never betray your fathers trust… but he’d picture thrusting his thick fingers inside you slowly and carefully, smearing cum over your warm hole and feel your wetness drip down his palm as you begged him to go faster — a pretty pink mess all for him.

He'd imagine throwing your cute little ass against a tree and wrapping your smooth legs around his waist when he was supposed to be working, telling you to be a good girl for him as he'd grope your tits and hear your needy whimpers.

He’d hold you against him as he’d push his hard cock inside your tight little pussy once you begged him enough, listen to your gasps as he’d stretch you out in ways you’d never been stretched before. He'd be sure to cover your mouth with his calloused, work torn hands to muffle your screams, have you claw his chiseled back with those glossy pink nails of yours until he bled.

He’d make you cum around his cock as he whispered every filthy thing he could think of in your ear, hear you whine and whimper and leave bruises in the sweet spots only he got to see; your father would be down the hill confused on where the both of you had gone.

He’d squirt all over his hand and thighs once he was done, panting and hissing from the pleasure pulsing through his body. He knew you were right outside those doors too, right where he left you in the break room, sipping on an ice coffee — completely oblivious.

Will would take a long while to clean himself up after that, the guilt burrowing heavy in his tummy knowing your father’s office was right down the hall. He wouldn’t dare look in that direction, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to look your father in the eye for a good hour.

He’d walk out the bathroom as inconspicuously as possible and put his hands in his coat pockets, walk back into the break room like nothing had happened, like he didn’t want to fuck your brains out right then and there, and he’d lean against the door frame and give you the most charming, innocent smile you dotingly believed.

“Hey, darlin’.”

You’d look up from your phone startled, your tits spilling out of your pink top and the plushness of your thighs flared out on the bench. Your hair was shiny and glittery with cute hair clips on each side, your makeup done so prettily and perfectly he just wanted to ruin it. You looked so damn good Will couldn’t help but take a minute to admire you some more, his eyes running over you hotly, but too subtly for you to notice.

“Oh, hey, where did you go? You said 5 minutes…” You teasingly pouted up at him with those glossy, twinkling lips of yours like you weren’t making this hard enough as it was.

You’d giggle and smile at him — making his heart churn and dick stir. He’d be entranced by your tits jiggling as you did, covered in glittery perfume and smelling of vanilla and strawberries.

So fucking delicious.

Then you’d wrap those same lips around your pink straw and take another sip of your iced coffee.

God damn those lips of yours… Will would go in a daze at the image of you on your knees for him, your lipgloss smeared over your cheeks as you’d suck his swollen cock head into your mouth, patiently waiting for him to say you could take more. Sparkly pink lip stains marked over his dick and balls… it was his dream.

Will knew he was bigger than you too, in a lot of ways, was reminded of if every time you stood next to his hulking form in those cute heels of yours that still didn’t manage to reach him. He was a 6’0 mass of muscle and brawn, carved from brick and forged from stone and way too rough around the edges to handle a delicate thing like you — it’d be like putting a pretty flower petal in the brazen hands of a giant. He wasn’t sure he could have you and not ruin you.

But god damn he’d fucking try. He’d be so delicate and tender with you in ways he’s never been with another woman. He’d cherish every scar and blemish on your smooth skin and treat you like the princess you so clearly were. He’d kiss you from head to toe and lap at your pussy like a poor man worshipping a goddess — he’d be oh so lucky.

He was big, yes, but he promised he wouldn’t crush you. He was rough, yes, but even a pretty girl like you liked having a rough hand wrapped around her throat. You’d be a pretty pink angel wrapped in his gray cotton sheets, held between his mundane, trauma stained hands.

He was manly and burly, all flannel jackets and tree stained jeans and you were girly and feminine, all short skirts and glittering strawberry lipgloss. You two didn’t work in a conventional sense but nothing about his life or yours was conventional.

Your father was a good man and William was a good worker, the best employee, the best lumberjack. He was patient and so loyal, fully aware he was risking his livelihood by wanting you but yet he was left wanting anyway. You were too cute and bouncy and he needed you to bounce on his cock more than he needed a job.

He wanted to see you bare for him — bare in heart, mind, and soul because he knew there was more to you than meets the eye. There was more of you to discover beyond the pink masses and he wanted to be the one that discovered it, the one that you trusted enough to show it to. He wanted to see the real you bared to him in the middle of the night with the beautiful afterglow of what you two had just done shining on your skin — your most organic, happiest form.

“Ah, William, I see you’re keeping my girl company? I hope she’s not keeping you, she’s a chatterbox.” Your father laughed and smacked a hand on Will’s shoulder, suddenly popping up in the doorway like Will had conjured him with his guilt. A thud sounded from the smack and Will felt his shoulder sting, completely shaken out of his fantasy now.

He looked at your father and laughed that charming laugh — I want to fuck your daughter more than I need air to breath sir but no she’s not a problem at all.

━━ BENJAMIN ‘BENNY’ MILLER ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

BARTENDER! BENNY ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 it almost angered you. Every Saturday night the club was packed with women just hoping Benny the Bartender would look their way… it was pathetic, if you didn’t do the exact same thing.

It was routine for you, the only thing you really looked forward to in your long weeks of monotonous work and errands — Benny was new, exciting, and so fucking hot you blushed at just the mere thought of him.

He was so charming too, so good at his job by simply just existing you could see why the company had hired him. With just one dazzling smile the whole room swooned and came, even you, who so pathetically tried to act hard to get at the corner of the bar with your lonely margarita you only ever ordered — you needed to be somewhat tipsy to actually have the confidence to talk to him.

You’d wear your sexiest dresses, your cutest shoes, have your hair done pristinely and your makeup done perfectly all in hopes of Benny noticing you — you were almost ashamed that you valued his attention that much.

You’d sit by yourself, alone, at the end of the bar staring at him while he worked, staring at his face and body and just picturing him fucking you on this very bar with his snapback still on his head, his hands gripping your thighs, your hips, your tits, anywhere his greedy hands could leave their mark on.

He’d wear baseball tees and black t-shirts that clung perfectly to his abs and muscles — you even heard a rumor that he was in an underground fighting ring that gave him all those muscles and scars in the first place. The thought aroused you incredibly and you couldn’t stop from fluttering your eyes at him more than usual that night.

He seldom never wore his snapback, and while you loved seeing his full face you couldn’t deny how much you loved the nights when he left his hat at home more.

He’d have his dirty blonde hair slicked back out of his face but yet there was always that one rebelling strand that fell over his eyes when he was working… it drove you insane. And the way he’d run his fingers through his hair when he was in the middle of a busy service, the way your own hands could pull it when he was laid between your legs, nibbling on your thighs and bringing you to such an ecstasy you’ve never experienced.

He was such a natural flirt too, professional to a limit when it came to all the women fawning over him over the bar, their tits falling out of their dresses and their lips over lined with lipstick. He’d laugh that boisterous laugh of his, take shots with them like he wasn’t on the clock, and he’d charm the panties right off them and the money right out of their purses by the time he was done.

You couldn’t say you weren’t jealous.

Benny, on the other hand, was all too aware of the pretty girl at the end of the bar who never seemed to bring anyone but her credit card. He was all too aware of her pretty eyes and pretty lips and perfect set of tits in those skimpy dresses she’d always wear.

And honestly, since the first night he saw you he’s wanted you.

He’d flirt with you all the time in that southern accent of his that charmed all the ladies, but you never seemed to register it, or in other words, you never seemed to care.

You were nothing like the women he dealt with every night — you would roll your eyes when he’d tell you how happy he was to see you again, purse your lips when he complimented your makeup, and seem totally disinterested in him and whatever nonsense he had to say.

And he fucking loved it.

You didn’t fawn over him like the others girls did, you didn’t seem to buy into the whole charming bartender shtick he portrayed either. You were quiet and beautiful and sharp; you never seemed too desperate or eager for him like everyone else. Sure, he loved the attention from other women, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t, but the fact that he never seemed to have yours made him want you even more.

He’d flirt with you whenever he got the chance to, knew your drink of choice by heart now and was always there to fill it back up when it was empty. He was attentive to your needs and he swore he could be just as attentive in other settings if you gave him the chance.

You’d just sit there in the shadows, skin flashing blue and black from the lights of the club and looking so damn fine Benny wished he could drag you into the bathroom and fuck your brains out on the door, feel the music pumping through your veins as you stuck your tongue in his mouth until all he tasted was you and liqueur.

It’d be fast and hot and he wouldn’t be able to breath in anything but you and margarita salt but it sounded perfect. His big hand wrapped around your throat as people knocked on the door like you two weren’t busy. He’d try to muffle your moans for your sake but he’d also decide he liked hearing them more. It’d be cramped and intimate and it would certainly leave him breathless but god damn that sounded like just what he needed right now.

He’d be drunk on you, the taste of you, the smell of you, the feel of you wrapped around him so tight — the mysterious girl he could never seem to break through to no matter how many times he tried. Sometimes, Benny even felt like giving up — you clearly didn’t want him like he wanted you.

But then, at some point during the night when you were two margaritas in and your eyes were starting to get hazy, he’d look over at you and you’d be giving him the hottest, most seductive look he’s ever seen. It makes his heart pound and skin prickle, his cock ache for something.

It was the kind of look where your eyelashes would flutter and you’d stare up at him with a delectable little smirk on your face, a look that screamed take me now, take me on this bar and show everyone what you’re capable of, show these other bitches you only want me.

And he fucking wished he could. It was that look that kept him going, that look that gave him hope.

And you wanted him to do just that. To leave bruises on your skin and taint your body with himself, to leave his mark on your pussy and soul and be so deep inside you you weren’t sure where his body began and your pleasure ended, just that you needed more, more, more of it.

But Benny assumed that was the game you two liked to play — to show up every Saturday night with the expectation that one of you was going to finally make a move on the other. To see who would crack first, give in to the temptation the both of you so clearly desired but neither were confident enough to admit.

Benny, the sexy bartender obsessed with the mysterious girl who barely gave him the time of day.

You, the girl at the end of the bar wishing Benny would just take the initiative and fuck her already.

And to think, Benny did want you, wanted you so fucking badly, only you. You’re the one that he even bothered to show off for anyway; flipping bottles, being quick on his feet, being better than anyone else cause he knew you were the one watching.

He made a soulful promise to both you and him that one of these nights you’re gonna give him that damned look one more time and he’s not gonna have a choice but to prove to you why you shouldn’t start things you don’t intend to finish.

━━ FRANK ‘CATFISH’ MORALES ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

STEP DAD! FRANK ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐞’𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 for a good year and a half before he met you, the young and beautiful daughter of the woman he supposedly loved.

You were grown, well, grown enough; a beautiful woman with dreams and ambitions, goals for her life that he couldn’t help but admire. But you also had this delectable snark you certainly didn’t get from your mother, an attitude that made anything remotely good about you pale in comparison — it drove him mad.

He hated to act like a father to you because he wasn’t your father — you were in your 20s anyway, it was too late for him to be anything other than Frank. He was just an older man in your life set to wed your mother, yet he really only had eyes for you, his beautiful step daughter he certainly shouldn’t be fantasizing about when he was fucking your mother.

You were bratty and mean, always rolled your eyes at him and walked off right in the middle of him talking to you; you wore those short shorts he despised (loved more than he should have) and those dresses that clung just a little too tight to your body for his liking. You were disobedient and rude, but so fucking sexy he was left torn between his desires and morals.

You never cared what he had to say about anything, never bothered to listen to his rules, and never bothered to wear some god damn house appropriate shorts that didn’t shove your round ass into his face every time he walked past you.

He imagined bending you over his knee and pulling your shorts off you, gently sliding your pink panties down your thighs, then spanking your ass, hard, like the disobedient brat you were until his handprints were etched into your skin, until you were sniffling and moaning for him to stop, until you had finally learned some respect.

He wondered if you’d get wet from that simple act alone: maybe your childish attitude was all a front, an act, to really piss him off to his limits and see how far you could push him until he broke. Maybe you wanted to be punished by him, be spanked raw, be fucked hard, until tears were streaming in your pretty little eyes and you were sobbing your apologizes to him instead of running your mouth.

As a matter of fact he should do just that; with all the times you’d “accidentally” leave the door open when you were showering and your mother had gone shopping, just you and Frank and the sizzling tension between you left to fend for itself. He was a gentleman at heart but no man could deny the allure of such a pretty body like yours covered in water.

He should shove your face into his pillow and fuck you from behind so you didn’t have to see his face like he knew you’d want to. He’d hold your hands behind your back and pound you until you cried for him to stop, to go faster, that it hurts, but you fucking wanted more.

You’d probably be a squirter too, all mean girls like you were when they got stripped down to the bare parts of themselves, where they couldn’t hide behind their own insolence and were touched by the experienced hands of an older man.

Frank was a patient man, a very patient man. It took a lot to drive him over the edge but yet you always seemed to know just what to say and just what to do to really push his buttons.

Your bedroom door wide open as you changed out of your bra, your perky tits all smooth and round for him to ogle at through the hallway, your music blasting through the whole house when he was trying to get some god damn sleep, bringing over your stupid little boyfriends into his house and letting them fuck you under his roof — it was all reason enough for him to punish you.

And no, Frank wasn’t jealous. He was a grown man, what did he have to be jealous about? He wasn’t jealous when he’d hear your moans sound through the whole house, the headboard banging on the wall, the giggles you’d try to hide as you’d walk them out the door. It was pathetic. Those boys could never fuck you like he could and he knew it. He was not jealous.

You were a bad girl, a naughty girl, and he didn’t like pretty little girls who thought they knew better than him.

You never showed him any gratitude, or appreciation for taking you and your mother in when he didn’t have to, you never thanked him when he made you a hot meal, and you never listened when he’d say put gas back in my car if you use it.

He basically let you do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. There was no structure, no rhyme or reason to anything you did and he’d be damned if he was going to let a spoiled brat like you make his life any harder than it needed to be.

Your mother was an angel, all kisses and kind words and that’s why he loved her in the first place. He had plans to marry her and live a great life with her. Even when she mentioned a daughter Frank didn’t worry, he imagined an adorable little toddler with big doe eyes and a kind heart just like her mother. But then he met you, and you were no kid, and you were certainly no fucking angel.

You were a soul sucking succubus sent from the depths of hell to tempt him, to make him fail yet another marriage. You were young and he knew it was wrong to despise you yet simultaneously want you so fucking badly. He wanted you out of his house, but he also wanted you on your knees and gagging around his cock. He wanted you to shut up for once, but he also wanted you to scream his name until the neighbors knew it.

It was certainly complicated and contradicting, and with his wedding on the way he really didn’t need anything going wrong. But, he figured, if he married your mother at least he would always be around to keep you in line, right?

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bennysmiller · 3 months

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Sweet Nothing - Frankie Morales x Reader

You and the boys have a night in at Benny's place, and amongst the chaos during a movie night, you and Frankie manage to find some quiet.

"Beer?"

You look up from your place on the sofa to see Benny holding out a full bottle of beer.

Normally you'd accept, but alcohol made you sleepy and you had to keep your eyes open for the game of charades Santi had proposed to everyone five minutes earlier. You shook your head at Benny but offered a slight smile in return.

"You don't have to stay awake, doll. Always welcome to crash in my bed while we're all out here"

Benny knew. He always knew. But once again, you shook your head at his suggestion and promised him you were fine. But you weren't fine. You wanted nothing more to fall asleep in Benny's bed to the sound of your boys laughing in the front room. But you also wanted to be present. After their latest mission, you knew how important it was to spend as much time as possible together.

"Well, you know where it is if you need it." Said Benny, before moving on and offering the beer to his brother.

Ten minutes later, the game of charades had been abandoned and Santi decided to put a film on instead. You couldn't actually hear what was being said, because Benny and Santi were too busy arguing over what they thought was going to happen. Then Will joined in and you wished you had taken up Benny's offer to sleep instead.

You managed to get yourself up off of the sofa, and over to the kitchen for a glass of water. As you take sips, you can't help but stare at an equally tired Frankie. The way his curls poke out from under his cap, and the way his hand is resting underneath his shirt, just on his stomach. You began to wonder what it would feel like to put your hand there instead. Do it for him.

You mentally kicked yourself for thinking about Frankie like that. He'd been nothing but sweet and respectful to you since you had met. But every now and then, no matter how hard you tried to push them down, those thoughts would creep up.

"They're real fuckin stupid sometimes."

You looked up to see Frankie stood across from you with his hands on his hips. When did he get here? you thought to yourself. You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn't see him get up.

You straightened up and put the glass down on the counter before agreeing with the man in front of you.

"I love them to bits but you're absolutely right." you said, earning a sigh from Frankie.

"I'm an old man now, just want peaceful nights in where I don't have to listen to a running commentary on whatever film we're trying to watch." He said, before taking his cap off and running a hand through his hair.

I could give you those kind of nights.

Before you realised what you had just said in your head, you jumped at the sound of a bottle smashing in the front room. Frankie rolled his eyes and chucked his cap on the table next to him.

"Too damn loud." He said, and ran a hand over his patchy beard. "Hey, you ever get those Taylor Swift tickets you wanted?"

You were about to turn around, but paused when he brought Taylor Swift up. It was something you had mentioned to him ages ago. You were both sat in a diner after a similar night with the guys, and needed to escape. So you sat and talked. All night. About anything and everything. You mentioned wanting to get tickets but didn't spend too long on the topic, so you went red when you realised Frankie truly was listening to you ramble on about them.

"Yeah, I did." You spoke quietly, but inside you were screaming. For so many beautiful reasons.

"Can I confess something? The night you mentioned those tickets, I went home and played a few of her songs. She's good."

"Seriously? You like her?" You asked excitedly. You wanted to die at the dimple that made an appearance on Frankie's face when he smiled at your enthusiasm that had suddenly shown up.

"Yeah," He chuckled. "You mentioned you loved Sweet Nothing. That's my song right now. I really am too soft for all of it."

He looked proud as fuck for slipping that lyric into the conversation, and also for how he'd clearly been studying your favourite artist.

You thought of the lyric outside they're push and shoving, you're in the kitchen humming and realised that perfectly described your situation with Frankie. Pure chaos in the front room with Santi, Benny, and Will, but the kitchen? You and Frankie found five minutes of peace in the kitchen. It was your place. You made the rules that night.

#Frankie Morales x Reader #Frankie Morales #Frankie Catfish Morales #Triple Frontier #Triple Frontier x Reader #Santiago Garcia #Will Miller #Benny Miller #Pedro Pascal #Charlie Hunnam #Oscar Isaac #Garrett Hedlund #Taylor Swift #Midnights #Sweet Nothing

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intoanotherworld23 · 11 months

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Deep Water

Characters: William Miller, Ben Miller, Francisco Morales and Santiago Garcia, and female reader

Warnings: Mentions of killing and blood, shooting, dead body, murder, drinking, swear words, drugging, and kidnapping

Summary: Drowning your sorrows in another bar since the mysterious murder of your family, your luck seems to run out that night when you witness a horrific murder done by the most ruthless mob in the city known as The Frontiers

I rewatched Triple Frontier for like the millionth time, and then got stuck in a loophole of reading all kinds of Triple Frontier fics, and decided to go ahead a write something of my own and was completely inspired by many people! I really hope you guys enjoy this one cause I think this is going to be an amazing read!! If you wish to be added to the tag list be sure to let me know in the comments or my ask box! Also sorry for this but I’m tagging everyone on my tag list for the first chapter just to get more opinions about this! Thank you so much! XOXO

Part 2

Not understanding why you did it, but you always ended up at the bar. Feeling the liquid burn down your throat making you hiss. The bartender laughed shaking his head every time you motioned for another drink.

Looking around the room there were all kinds of people here. Feeling your body slouching in the chair, but nobody seemed to pay attention to you. It almost seemed as if they were doing everything they could to avoid you.

Being used to that feeling of loneliness it didn't faze you not having anybody. Ever since your family was killed you were numb to every feeling you could ever have.

Coming home to finding your parents and older brothers bloody bodies on the living room floor. Wondering how they were so easily killed even when they were heavily guarded. Nobody knew who killed them, and the entire case was dropped.

Ever since they were killed people didn't look at you, and they certainly didn't want anything to do with you. It puzzled you why wondering who your family really was. There was something more to them, and you certainly weren't interested in finding out.

Your mother never told you what your father did, and always kept it hush. All you can really remember is random men always coming over wearing suits and serious faces. His office was a forbidden room, and never allowed anyone in there.

All you know is your father made a lot of money and was a very powerful man. People in a sense feared your father but you didn't realize any of this until after he was killed. Questions running through your mind all the time that would go unanswered.

"Want something else?" The bartenders voice intruded your thoughts. "Maybe the tab."

"Yeah yeah I get it." Grumbling as you shuffled through your purse pulling out your card handing it to him. "What's so great about this place anyway."

"Do you not know who owns the bar?" He seemed surprised by your question as he stood there his eyes wide.

"No." You strung out the word shaking your head your full attention on him. “Should I?”

"The Frontiers own this place." He spoke the words hushed afraid they would hear him, and appear from the darkness. "The ruthless mobsters that run this city."

"They own this bar?" Saying more to yourself then the bartender who chuckled at your shocked response.

"Yeah they own this bar." Watching as he swiped your card through the machine. "Along with every other bar in this city. Or at least Ironhead is the one who owns them.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Slapping a hand on your forehead in disbelief as you sighed loudly.

“I wish I was hon but yeah this is their bar.” Pressing his lips together with raised eyebrows a sympathetic look on his face.

"I had no idea." Your voice quiet as you started to look around hoping they didn't sneak there way in here.

"Sweetheart the minute you walk out into the streets." He started to say as you looked up into his eyes. "They own you already."

Gulping so loudly you felt everyone could hear it. If it wasn't for the liquor you had in your system you would have ran out of this place so fast you would leave a trail of smoke.

You've never seen them before but you certainly have heard of them. Knowing what they did to people who betrayed them, or simply even pissed them off. They could kill anyone and nobody could touch them.

All you really knew about them was there names. Santiago, Francisco, William and Ben Miller who were brothers. You also knew they had nicknames like Fish, Ironhead, Pope and Benny. Will was the leader of the group and was the most ruthless out of all of them. Frankie was his second in command, along with Santiago and Benny.

"Here you go." Soon as he handed you back your card you shoved it into your purse hopping off the chair stumbling a bit on your feet. "Have a good night."

"Thanks." Mumbling with a stoic look still being polite to which he responded with a small smile and a nod.

Looking around for the exit you just started to walk letting your legs take over hoping you would just find your way out of here. Stumbling down the hall seeing a red neon sign above a door that read exit.

Not planning to get this intoxicated when you unknowingly entered the Frontiers bar. At least they didn't know up here and start causing violence like they were known to do. Just wanting to get home and pass out on top of your bed.

As you pushed the door open a cold breeze gushed around your body. Tugging your jacket tighter to your now shivering body as you looked around. Turning to start heading back to your apartment.

The streets were empty and it was eerily quiet. Not even a car was driving by which was making you a little nervous. The alcohol flowing through your system was making you a little more paranoid then usual.

Moving your legs as quickly as you could just wanting to get home so you could sleep this feeling off. Your heels clacking against the pavement it sounding louder than it usually would.

"Where the fucks our money?" A dark voice shouted from the inside of an alley making your feet stop in there tracks.

"Don't make us ask you again." It was a different voice but sounded just as dark.

Unaware that your feet were slowing moving towards the potentially dangerous sounds. Clutching your purse tightly to your chest as you peeled around the corner of the alley. Your eyes locked on three men standing around another man. His hands tied behind his back and his head slumped forward.

If it wasn't for those stupid drinks your ass would have been home already. Instead your curiosity got the better of you and you had to see for yourself what was going on.

All you could make out was their faces. The man holding the gun had tan skin with dark hair and a matching mustache, and the man to the right of him had blonde hair with a matching scruffy beard, and the man to the left had darkish hair with thin scuff around his lower face.

It shocked you how good looking these men really were especially the one holding the gun. Whoever these mysterious handsome men were they certainly had something dark and dangerous about them.

What intrigued you the most was the one with the blonde hair who had sparkling blue eyes that shined beneath the moon light, and gave him an even more menacing look. A shiver ran up your spine at the thought of getting a look up close.

"I'm losing my fucking patience with you Dave." The blonde haired man spoke shaking his head back and forth slowly. He looked and sounded like he was the leader of this group.

"You've got five seconds before I'll blow your head off." The man holding the gun spoke an accent behind his voice.

"I'm telling you I don't have the money Ironhead." The man pleaded as he cried silently begging for his life. "Please don't kill me."

That must be his nickname as the blonde haired man stepped forward crossing his arms across his chest. Kicking something in front of him trying hard not to lose his patience. The man holding the gun kept looking over at him waiting for some time of signal to be given to him.

Gripping the brick of a building you were crouching behind unable to walk away from this scene. It felt like you were watching a movie, and you couldn't take your eyes off it. Your eyes going back and forth between all of them wondering what was going to happen next.

“Then tell us where the fucking money is.” The man screamed louder this time making you jump.

“It’s gone.” He whispered loud enough for them to hear bowing his head down in fear. “He’s got your money.”

"Wrong answer."

Before the man could say anything else a boom rang through the alley, and rand through your ears. Covering your mouth quickly as soon as your felt a scream bubbling in your throat. Watching as the man's body dropped to the floor a pool of blood surrounding his body.

Stepping back from the horrific scene keeping your hand over your mouth just wanting to get out of there. Feeling a tear running down your cheek realizing you had just witnessed a murder. Never have you ever seen someone get shot point black out in the open.

Before you could make it very far your body backed up into another body. Standing there frozen as you heard a light chuckle and a breath near your ear. Wishing you would have just kept walking or could find the urge to run away from this scene.

"Looks like we have a curious little kitten." His hands gripped your waist pushing you forwards towards the other three men. "Should have just walked away sweetheart."

All eyes focused on you as they watched you being pushed towards them looking terrified. The one with the dark hair putting his gun away his eyes looking your body up and down. The man behind you gripped the backs of your arms when he felt you start to move.

It felt like a light was shining down on your figure as you felt all there gazes on you. Just wanting the ground to swallow you whole so you could get out of here. Maybe you should have just stayed in the bar a little longer, and this could have been avoided.

"Who do we have here?" The one with the mustache spoke up hands on his hips as he looked at you with a smirk. "Pretty little thing."

"This little one was watching the whole thing." Your head shoved down in shame and embarrassment knowing you got caught red handed.

"See the whole thing?" You didn't realize you were being asked a question until you felt someone lightly shove you making you look up at the man who was called Ironhead.

"Yes." Squeaking out feeling your mouth becoming very dry.

There was complete silence as you felt his gaze burning a hole in your face. Not realizing how attractive all these men really were until you were standing so close to them. Feeling your cheeks heat up for the thought of even drooling over these killers.

The man holding you stepped next to Ironhead both of them whispering back and forth. He had longer hair than the rest of them, and had an incredibly youthful look about him. They looked like they could be brothers or something.

"Kill her." Was all he said as he turned away cold as ice your eyes wide in fear not thinking tonight was the night of your death.

"What?" The one holding you before stepped closer to you almost in a defensive stance. "Come on Will we don't have to kill her."

"She's a fucking witness Benny." He glared at his partner his voice filled with authority. “The last thing we need is a squeaky wheel.”

"I don't think this one will talk." The man with the darkish hair and sprinkle of gray mixed in looked deeply into your eyes making you turn away.

Benny stepped around you standing directly behind you feeling his body hovering over you protectively. Keeping your eyes focused on other things acting like they weren’t talking about you like you weren’t there.

"You don't know that Pope." He argued back with him.

"I agree with Benny and Pope man." The one with dark brown hair spoke up this time.

"Shut the fuck up Fish." Ironhead snarled feeling conflicted right now as he watched your trembling body in his brothers hands. "All of you shut the fuck up."

These nicknames they were using sounding incredibly familiar. Repeating the names in your head over and over again trying to think of where you had heard them before. It seemed like you were just talking about men who had names like that.

"What's your name?" He asked as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"Y/F/N Y/L/N." Hearing an intake of breath behind you as soon as they heard your last name.

It really confused you as to why they had the reaction they did when you said your name. Maybe they knew who your father was, and would ultimately decide to let you go, or they could tell you more about him than anyone else has. That was a fat chance though and most likely they were enemies.

It suddenly hit you as to who was all standing around you. It was the Frontier men, and you felt your entire body turn into ice. Feeling those drinks starting come back up your throat threatening to spill out of your mouth and onto the concrete.

Feeling like it was just too big of a coincidence drinking unknowingly in there bar, witnessing a murder, and now here you were in there hands. This was definitely not your night.

Having witnessed these ruthless mobsters killing a man in the alley. Feeling even more stupid smacking yourself in the face wishing you would have just walked away. Now here you were facing what felt like a trial on whether you got to live or die.

The three men were standing close together as they quietly spoke with one another. Going back and forth with each other trying to decide what to do with you. All kinds of questions running through your mind right now trying to figure a way out of this.

What was probably just a few minutes felt like hours. Staring down at your feet as the continued to talk. Not paying attention to the fact that Benny was soothingly rubbing your arms up and down.

"She comes with us." Ironhead finally spoke as he scratched his beard sighing loudly coming to this conclusion. "Keep her quiet."

"Please don't." You begged shaking your head hoping they would just let you go, but you had a gut feeling they weren't going to. "Please I promise I won't say a word."

"We can't risk that doll." Fish said with a calm sympathetic tone in his voice giving you a small smile to which you didn't return.

"Please don't kill me." Hearing your voice quiver as tears were flowing down your cheeks now.

"Did you not hear me?" Ironhead cocked his head at you as he stepped closer to you. "We're letting you live."

"Please just let me go." Pushing not letting it go hoping they would become annoyed and decide to just let you safely back home. "Please don't do this to me."

"Take her to the car Benny." Was all he said before he turned around to the other men. "We'll be right behind you."

Ironhead leaned to Benny whispering something in his ear before he looked to you. Benny nodded his head before he turned back to you with no emotion on his face.

"Come on darling let's go." His hand tugged you to face the other way as he led you into the car. "This is for the best."

You couldn't believe that any of this was happening to you right now. The last thing you ever thought was being kidnapped by a bunch of cold hearted ruthless mobsters. Thinking that maybe your family being murdered was already enough.

"I just want to go home." Speaking out loud without realizing it as you shuffled into the car.

"Maybe you should have walked away and minded your own business." He warned you with a look on his face saying not to push him.

Looking away as he wrapped something around your wrists tightly so you couldn’t escape. The fabric burning your skin as you moved your hands wincing at the minor pain. You could tell the man felt bad, but he clearly wasn’t going to help you.

"Maybe I should have." Grumbling as you looked out the car window watching the other men wrap the body up carrying it to the car.

This was like something out of a movie, and you were waiting any minute for the director to yell cut or something. Or pinch yourself hard enough and you’d wake up from this horrific dream.

"There not putting the body in here are they?" Looking over at Benny sitting at the drivers seat bored.

"Yeah of course." He shook his head with a light chuckle before he turned around to face you. "Can't have somebody finding it."

“Or maybe you just shouldn’t have killed the guy.” Spitting out before you could stop yourself but it seemed to amuse him.

“Well shit you sure got bite.” He bellowed out in disbelief at how you were talking to him considering everything. “We’ll get along just fine you and I.”

Your heart was starting to race rapidly as you sat frozen in your seat. Palms were sweating horribly as you felt the bile rising in your throat again. Your chest was heaving up and down as you slowly felt yourself start to panic.

Not moving a muscle as the three men stuffed the bloody body into the trunk of the car. Slamming it shut making your jump terror coursing through your body at the thought of being in a car with four killers.

Ironhead got into the passenger seat, and Fish and Pope got on either side of you. The tension was thick in the car, and you were starting to become overheated and overwhelmed. You can throw out not getting into cars with strangers out the window.

“What are you guys going to do with me?” Timidly asking once they all got settled in the car. There was silence for a couple of seconds which was making you even more nervous.

“That all depends on you.” A stern voice responded from the front making your eyes diverge to him.

“Behave and you’ll be okay.” Pope answered reassuringly to you, but nothing about his words felt reassuring at all.

One wrong move or wrong answer, and you could possibly end up like the man wrapped in tarp in the trunk. These were ruthless men who would kill anyone including you. For some reason though thankfully they decided to keep you alive. Well at least for the time being probably.

"Sorry about this sweetheart." Fish said with a pathetic smile before you felt something prick your neck before you could let out a scream.

Quickly realizing that it was a needle that went into your skin. Your vision was getting blurry, and you felt like the car was spinning. Trying to keep your eyes open fighting whatever drug he injected you with.

Feeling your body going limp as you slumped in your seat rolling your head to the side against Popes shoulder. Benny looked in the rear view mirror feeling sorry that this was happening to you.

"Go Benny." Ironhead growled not bothering to check if you were okay.

The last thing you remember was the sound of a roaring engine before darkness completely took over your body.

#Pedro pascal #charlie hunnam #Garrett hudland #Oscar Isaac #triple frontier #Pedro pascal smut #charlie hunnam smut #Garrett hudland smut #Oscar Isaac smut #Pedro pascal x reader #fic rec #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #Pedro pascal fic #Pedro pascal fanfiction #william miller #Ben Miller #frankie morales #Santiago Garcia

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romanarose · 1 year

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Physical Touch with the Triple Frontier Boys

Triple Frontier Master List All fanfic masterlist

Thoughts on the TF boys expressing their love for you in Physical touch, and you returning it. Be sure to comment which love language you'd like to see next!

Acts of Service Word of Affirmation Quality Time

Warnings: PIV sex, nonsexual nudity, mentions of oral, (f and m receiving), chronic pain, brief reference to child abuse (bc I can't let the Millers off easy, can I)

Didn't want to make his too sexual bc physical touch isn't just about sex but like. Let's be honest here, am I wrong?

**********************

Benny Miller

Don't let him fool you. Benny is a strong farm boy, ex-military, but he's not afraid of being things that may be perceived as feminine. He will take any opportunity to touch you, even in the most innocent ways. You had a long day, and Benny was more than happy to treat you right. Using ingredients in the fridge that google said made face and hair masks (Is there avocado on your face right now? Yes. Are entirely sure the egg in your hair is doing anything? No.) Benny gives you the first facial that didn't involve his dick in your face since college. He puts on a homemade hair mask in your hair, massaging it into your scalp tenderly, and even letting you put the remainder in his hair. In the shower he washes you, and impressively does not make a move o fuck you, simply taking care of you. Afterwards, you sit in front of the tv between Benny's legs as he brushes and braids your hair so that the shiny locks (the eggs did work!) are in nice waves in the morning.

Benny had a long day, walking in your house and immediately flopping on the couch as he said hello. You knew what he wanted, even if he wouldn't ask, feeling silly. Walking over to him, you ask if he wants you to lay with him and he nods. Carefully, you lay down on top of his sprawled-out body. As you watched ABC family you play with his messy blonde hair, full body weight on him and wondering how he could breathe, you felt his body relaxing.

"You know Benny, we can get you a weighted blanket"

"I like this better."

Santiago Garcia

Santiago Garcia can't keep his hands off you, the bedroom is no exception. Santi would partake in a myriad of positions, but his favorites were anything that he got the most contact with your skin. Doing doggy style, he never strayed far, his chest connecting with your back, or he'd pull you up flush against him to cup your breasts and kiss your neck. When he went down on you, Santiago's hands were always busy, roaming your body as if it was the first time being explored. This man cannot even sit back and enjoy a blowjob, his hands are always in your hair as he tells you how beautiful you are, touching your tits, or feeling himself in your throat.

Stubborn man. He will not ask for help if it's his only option. He'll beg you to give him a 5th orgasm, but he cannot admit when he's in pain. It's not just his knees. This man is middle aged, and just like you, he has pains. When you push Santi onto the couch, telling him to take off his jeans, a grin splits on his face. "Hold your horses, cowboy"

You pull out the container of magnesium lotion, and he looks even more excited. "Santi it's not lube!" You rub the lotion on his legs, tenderly and carefully taking care of his knees and calves, even going to far are to peel off his socks. Initially not a fan, insisting his feet are 'gross', you insist you don't mind (he is freshly showered, of course) and ask if it's okay to try it. He lets you, and find he really, really likes his feet massaged. The magnesium helps with the aches, and it's always nice to skin to skin.

Will Miller

His body was broad and sweaty and all-consuming over you, his back chest up against your back as he fucked into your center, deep as always. Every fucking inch of you was covered by him, protected. As he lay on top, full weight heavy and comforting, his arms were wrapped over yours, fingers intertwined, even his legs were pinning you to the mattress. He came inside you, warmth coating you on the inside as much as his skin did on the outside, he took a few moments to breath to relish feeling you so completely. "Baby, can we stay like this for a bit?" He asked, not wanting to be any further away than he was right now. As he laid on top of you, only pulling away slightly to put a blanket over the pair of you, all you can think of is how safe and cared for he makes you feel. You fall asleep like that, with him still inside you, as close as two people can possibly be.

Will isn't a talker. If he's bothered, or upset or sad, he's not going to tell you. But that's why your job is take care of him. He cares for you, you care for him. But you have to frame it as asking a favor, as needing him. So, bathtub full of water lavender oil and Epsom salt, (no candle bc strong smells hurt Will's head), an open door so the steam and heat doesn't trigger him, you lay in the warm water with Will's large body surrounding you. He had his arms wrapped around you, knees bent around you as metaphorical extra protection to some imagined threat. Will likes this. Will likes being there to comfort you, Will likes to be there to protect you. Will is a caretaker, a protector, first and foremost, just ask Ben. Who shielded Ben from their dads alcoholic rages? Who bandages him up after fights? Will. Will needs to be needed, and you are happy to allow him that.

Francisco Morales

A hand on your thigh, fingers interlaced as you walk, a grasp around your waist. It's protective, he knows how men at bars can be, but also a bit possessive, you know, how Frankie wants to touch you all the time. His mind constantly whirs with worst case scenarios... he doesn't want you getting hurt, or someone touching you without consent... but also... he likes knowing. He likes knowing that other men see you, but know they can't have you, wouldn't even try, not with the way you sit on his lap. You are all dolled up, showing so much skin that a lesser man would be nervous, or demand you change. But Frankie doesn't see it like that. First of all, he would never tell you what to do. Second of all, he couldn't even if he tried, but thirdly, the primal, animalistic party of his mind loved showing you off. Look at how good you looked, and only he got to put his hands on you (Well, and Ben as you swing danced to Come on Eileen but that's beside the point). Frankie pinches your ass as you lean over the bar ordering another drink. For good measure.

Later that evening, as the crowd fills in and the men get drunker, more obvious with their staring, even as you are surrounded by four ex-military men, you notice Frankie's touch more and more possessive around you. You excuse yourself to the bathroom, much to more Frankie's visible distress, and on your way back to put money in the jukebox. After a few other peoples songs came and went, Frankie immediately looks up from his drink, looking at Santi as "Siempre en mi Mente" by Juan Gabriel comes on, asking if he put it on, the only person Frankie assumed would even know Juan Gabriel. But you had paid attention to his Spotify as he cooked Sunday morning breakfast. Taking his large, rough hand, you pull Francisco to the dance floor. In the predominantly white small southern town, no one really knew the song, but a few couples were dancing, because really, who is resistant to Juan Gabriel? For the most part, however, the dance floor was nearly empty. This meant that as Frankie held you close, singing along to the words with his mouth hot against your ear, every men in the bar who had been eyeing you got to see his your hands on his as, signaling in no uncertain terms who you belonged to.

*****************

hope y'all enjoyed!!!

Remember, reblogs help a lot, comments mean the world!

@welcometostayingawake @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @kittyofalltrades @luciannadraven33 @littlenosoul @jake-g-lockley @milkymoon2483 @in-between-the-cafes @howaboutcastiel

#triple frontier #santiago garcia #oscar isaac #benny miller #garrett hedlund #charlie hunnam #will miller #pedro pascal #frankie morales #santiago garcia x reader #benny miller x reader #will miller x reader #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fluff #fluff #comfort

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triplefrontierbabe · 2 months

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Where Were You? Part 1

F!Reader x Benny Miller series

Summary: following her father’s death, twenty one year old Clara Davis returns home to Florida in an attempt to bring some normalcy back to her life. Yet, the people she’s been avoiding for five years just might be the people she’s been needing to be around all along.

Warnings: mentions of death, smoking, language, drinking, mentions of abuse (vague), age gap.

Part 2

******

The bell above the front door of the bar opened, signaling new customers coming into the bar. You sighed. It’s been a long night already and you were counting down the minutes until you could go home.

With your back still turned to the front door, you began your run-of-the-mill speech as bartender.

“Hey y’all welcome in, what can I-” you begin to say as you turn around to look at the customers that just walked in. You’re shocked. You can’t believe the nerve of these guys.

It’s been five years since the tragedy in South America. Five years since you last saw your dad. Five long years since you last spoke to Frankie, Benny, Will and Pope.

You’ve only been back home in Florida for about a week and you somehow managed to not run into the four guys for those seven days. It was inevitable, seeing them. But you were not prepared no matter how much time had passed.

“Clara.” Frankie says as he lets out a breath. He’s the only one you make eye contact with before you decide that this was not the night you’d lay all your cards on the table for the guys.

“Larry, you can take these guys.” You begin to say to your boss “I’m not serving them”.

With that, you make your way out to the front of the bar, feeling the intense stares from all four guys on you every step of the way.

Amidst holding back tears, you hear one of the guys call your name out again in an attempt to finally talk to you.

“What the hell.” You say as soon as you step out the front door.

After all these years, seeing the guys’ faces hurts you just as much as it did when you were still a teenager. Your resentment for them is still the same, if not more. The feeling of betrayal hits you all over again just like it did when they returned from the trip, without your dad.

Tears start to form in your eyes as you frantically pull out a cigarette and your lighter. Smoking became a habit for you. Rather, it had become a bad coping mechanism.

You sit down on the front stairs of the bar and take a couple drags of the cigarette before you hear the front door jingle. Heavy footsteps follow before someone sits beside you.

It’s Benny. The person you’d least expect to see sitting next to you. He’s looking straight ahead, his lips pursed, elbows resting on his knees.

You both sit there for a couple minutes without saying a single word. You’re waiting for him to speak since he came outside and sat down next to you. He lets out a breath before he turns to look at you. You immediately turn your head away to look straight ahead this time.

You take a few more drags of your cigarette before crushing it on the ground beneath your foot.

He still says nothing but you can feel his eyes on you. It’s almost as if he’s trying to memorize your face all over again since you’ve changed so much in the past five years.

“Where have you been?” He asks concerningly yet gently. There’s a sense of reservation in his voice when he speaks. Scared that his question could hurt you somehow.

You’re silent.

A million thoughts are running through your head as you try to figure out what to do next. To speak? Not to speak? Tell Benny everything? Tell him nothing? Ask him the same question?

You take a breath to steady your heartbeat as you notice your heart rate had picked up when he sat down. You drop your head and fiddle with your hands wondering what to say to him.

It feels like hours have passed before you lift your head up and look at Benny. He’s already looking at you with a soft, concerned expression on his face.

You notice the lines in his forehead had gotten deeper and that his facial hair had grown out and that he wasn’t as clean shaven as you had remembered.

“Why do you care?” You ask. “Why now?”

Benny’s expression drops as if you had just punched him in the stomach. Why did he seem hurt by your words? You’re not the one who was responsible for your dad’s death.

“Clara, we haven’t seen you for five years.” He says.

“I’m aware of that.” You chide.

“You disappeared.” He replies. “We tried to-”

“Don’t tell me you tried anything” you say as you cut him off “Don’t act like you cared about my whereabouts. You didn’t try to do anything, so don’t lie to me.”

You can feel tears starting to well up in your eyes again. The last thing you want in this moment is for Benny to see you crying, weak. And with that you stand up and walk towards the front door.

The tension between you two was thick. It was one sided more than anything, but knowing Benny’s temper, he was getting worked up.

You walk through the front door and as soon as you pass the threshold, Will, Frankie and Pope’s eyes are all on you. They’re all holding their breaths waiting for something to happen. For you to acknowledge them properly or something. Anything.

But you say nothing as you walk past them and go back to behind the bar.

Larry is there, also holding his breath. He doesn’t know you too well, but he knows who your dad is… or was and who the guys are to you.

“Clara, I think I can manage the bar for the rest of the night.” Larry says to you. “There’s not many people here so you can head home if you’d like.”

You offer him a small smile and nod in thanks. You gather your purse and head back to the door.

Your hand is on the door handle when you feel it move open and of course, Benny is on the other side. He steps aside and watches you leave, without saying another word.

******

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed part 1!

#triple frontier #triple frontier imagine #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund imagine #benny miller x reader #benny miller imagine #benny miller #frankie morales #pedro pascal #santiago garcia #oscar isaac #will miller #charlie hunnam #tfbabe where were you

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coweye · 1 year

Text

Commitment Issues - Part 8

Pairing: Benjamin Miller x Reader

Words: 2.7k

Summary: When you try and take your friends with benefits relationship to the next level, Benny’s response isn’t quite what you were expecting.

AN: So I lied - I'm so sorry for the wait! Recently, writing hasn't come as easy to me and although it's almost a year late I hope you enjoy, this isn't the final chapter - I lied twice.

➢ fic masterpost

PREVIOUS PART

28th April 2022 - 37 weeks pregnant

Life playing host to the parasite that was soon to be your daughter had only gotten worse. Hard to believe, I know.

The gift that kept on giving made sure that you’d suddenly without any warning whatsoever have the overwhelming urge to vomit.

There was no rhyme or reason to her neat new little party trick but at any given moment your stomach said nope and you bought up whatever you happened to have eaten or as the case may be; be eating at the time.

Honestly, you weren’t a negative person by nature, but these agonizing eight months had taken it out of you.

Hell, you were in the process of drafting an eviction notice if this kid didn’t get out of you in the next two weeks.

Long story short, between this and the Benny situation you were not exactly the best of company, right now.

The boys and Val had all learnt this early on and for the past eight days, you had given up all pretense of a brave face, now you were bleeding and letting everyone who would listen know about it.

When Santiago, who had decided to stay in town until the birth of your baby, suggested a stroll around the mall, you had fixed him with the stare that would have had a lesser man running back to Colombia with his tail between his legs. Until, of course, he had sweetened the deal with fried chicken, his treat and coincidentally the only meal that you had yet to regurgitate.

So, here you found yourself with Santiago and William and a six piece bucket to yourself.

The change in company was a welcome distraction from dwelling on your non-existent love life at home with the love of your life.

After the thorn in your side that was Jasmine, reared her ugly head at the baby shower, you had pulled back into your protective bubble of distant and cold.

Benny, though confused about the message, received it loud and clear as he returned to the swing to find you inside and talking incredibly heatedly to Valerie. In the eight days that followed, he yet to confront you about it. Apparently old habits died hard..

The camaraderie that had come hand in hand with your truce had dissolved. You weren’t actively unpleasant, but you didn’t melt into his side, or nap on the couch with him anymore.

You had established boundaries, resolving yourself to the simple philosophy of anything you wouldn’t do with Frankie, you wouldn’t do with Ben.

It was simple… well kind of, every one of your moves was carefully calculated and exhausting.

For example, lying on the couch watching a movie with a leg rub? Acceptable.

Frankie would do that for your swollen ankle joint, hell, he had done.

However, lying on the couch with his body sandwiched against yours as you fall asleep, the hardness of him pressed into your backside; well… that was quite clearly a no, but I digress!

Boundaries were established and what almost was, had been completely and totally healthily avoided at all costs, creating the exact tenuous home environment you'd spent so long trying to avoid.

So, here you found yourself in the food court, slamming some fried chicken trying desperately to forget your woes.

“She’s too clingy…” Santi huffed in between a bite of his burger, talking mostly to Will as you had yet to peak up from behind your bucket.

“Maybe she just likes you and wants to spend time with you, god forbid someone shows interest.” You grunted irritably between bites, looking for a fight.

Both men turned to you in surprise, the whites of their eyes visible as they feared your outburst.

Santiago strategically paused as he searched for the right words before he began to speak again.

“You’re right … Maybe I’m too harsh.” Pope placated as he fixed you with a look of reproach, however, that only served to enrage you further.

He watched for your reaction as if you were an angry bear or a child throwing a tantrum. Truth be told, you weren’t strictly unlike either of those things at that precise moment.

Your brows narrowed, ready to unload and tell him all the reasons he was a dick before a cramping pain in your bloated abdomen overwhelmed you. Your eyes clenched shut as you breathed heavily through your nose, your ringed fingers gripped at the circular table in pain.

It was impossible for you to judge how long went by before the pain finally passed.

You took a further second or two to even your breathing before you resumed eating, succinctly dropping the subject that had injected fire into your veins merely moments before.

With a fry in your mouth, you glanced up to find both men watching you.

“What the fuck?”

“Are you okay?” They questioned in unison.

A moment passed as you swallowed your mouthful before you concisely answered your comrades. “I’m pretty sure I’m going into labor.”

“And … you don’t think we should be actively doing something about that?” Santiago pressed, looking as if he was ready to bolt.

“Labor can take hours and I won't be able to eat once it gets going…” You shrug, picking up another piece of chicken.

“What’s wrong with you?” Pope breathed, eyes wide before he palmed in his eye sockets in frustration, attempting to rub the stress you induced away.

Will had dragged his chair to your side, his eyes focused on his watch.

“Don’t worry so much… the book said until they're ten minutes apart … there’s no point going … to the hospital!” You explain in between bites of greasy chicken.

Your words do little to quell their panic as both men look as if they're ready to pull their hair out with worry.

“I’ll ring Ben.” Santi groaned as he stood up and reached into his jacket pocket before fishing out his phone. He turned dramatically with a finger pointed in your general direction. “You get her to hurry up - I swear to god, Y/N. If you’re eating when I get back, pregnant or not, I’ll drag you to that car. You’re not having your baby in the damn food court… estúpida, obstinada…” The man continued grunting curses at your expenses as he stalked off for somewhere quiet with cell reception to call the father of your child.

The silence that extended all of three minutes was too good to be true as Will watched your face as you ate for any sign of distress.

“Whilst giving Pope a coronary is always a good time… don’t you think we should go and get your bag and meet Ben?” Will’s voice was soft, the kind of soothing tone you’d seen him use to talk down shell shocked soldiers - it was both unassuming and laced with copious amounts of compassion.

You’d be damned if it didn’t just piss you right off.

With a quick shake of your head, you dropped the empty bone into the bucket with the rest of the carcasses and took a long sip of your drink.

“I’m good here … I can meet you guys there if you like?”

The pinch in his brow was quite simply incredulous, his concern was quickly outweighing his patience.

“If you think I’m leaving you both here, you’re insane.”

Chewing on the straw of your drink; your eyes locked with his. They were brimming with a concoction of confusion and concern, which if the clench in his jaw was anything to go by, was slowly morphing into exasperation at your lack of compliance.

“I … just need some time.”

“Y/N. All you’ve spoken about for the past week is how you want this to be over, wish granted - she’s coming and she’s coming now.”

“That’s what he said…” You uttered half-heartedly under your breath as you broke eye contact, no longer able to face his look of bewilderment.

On the red tray in front of you was a lemon scented wet wipe hidden among napkins and sauces, you tore open the former and gratuitously began scrubbing the grease off of your hands, actively ignoring the perplexed stare of one of your closest friends.

“Y/N, we need to get moving… will you just stop and listen?” Will snapped finally as he grabbed the wipe from your grip as you passed over your digits for the third time.

Your own patience had reached its end as his hand gripped your elbow, his intention to make good on Santiago’s threat and drag you out, clear and present in your mind.

The devil in question was making his way back to your table, all quick strides as he dodged the food courts clientele.

You wrenched your arm from his grip huffing in annoyance at the well meaning Miller.

“Fine. Let's go and get my bag, maybe we can grab an iced tea on the way to the car…”

Will nodded but you knew the mother hen would never allow a diversion from the mission at hand.

All was going well.

You were compliant as you strode through the mall, both men flanking you like a high priority asset as you clambered into Santi’s rental truck.

Hell, you were goddamn amenable as you unlocked your front door and grabbed the hospital duffel bag from the cubby under the stairs.

However, your cooperation waned somewhat when heading to the maternity ward as the guys tried to wheel your chair past the hospital's Starbucks.

Your palm, lightening fast, caught the break on the chair causing it to veer left right into Santiago’s shins.

“Ice Tea!”

“You’ve got a baby about to shoot out of your hoo-hah and you're stopping for tea?!” Santi huffed incredulously as he rubbed his shin.

“My contractions are 25 minutes apart, when they’re 15, I’ll consider joining the panicking cry baby club.”

“Panicking baby- huh!” Santi huffed rubbing his forehead. “You are not well, Y/N/N! You’re having a baby - Go and have it and then I’ll bathe you in fucking tea!”

“I’ll come back down and grab you one-” Will placated before Santi bent to remove the break on the chair, allowing Will to move all of two steps, before you slammed it back on, the rubber tyres screeched against the tile floor of the hospital lobby.

“Tea. First.” You huffed much like a troublesome child.

This time it was Will who leaned down to remove the break, having clearly decided you weren’t in your right mind.

So, you did the only thing you could; you threw your baby bag off of your lap.

“Y/N, stop being a goddamn child!” Will huffed, you had clearly pushed him to the edge, not that it had been particularly hard.

Ignoring him, you began to stand. They both watched on in horror as you slowly ambled your way to the end of the queue.

Leaning against the drinks fridge, you sighed.

Your spine was aching something awful. The poor timing of this kid resumed as a contraction wracked your body, sharper than the others, it felt longer but you had no way to be sure.

Will was at your side the second it overcame your body.

“Twenty minutes apart, please, Y/N. Come on.”

When finally the pain dissipated, your aching back remained. You weren’t proud of the weight you were placing on Will but the floor was the only other option.

“y/n?! … Y/N!” You heard Benny hollar before you saw him, his eyes were wild with panic as he rushed to your side. He patted his brother on the shoulder, before taking his place. “Baby, what are you doing? You need to get into bed.”

“I want… my … tea.” You huffed, breathing not yet evening out.

“Fine, we get the tea and we go straight up. How far apart are they?”

“Twen-”

The gush of amniotic fluid leaving your body cut the older Miller off, soaking through your jeans and unfortunately onto Benny’s shoes.

“You just pissed, she just pissed!” Santi cried in disbelief, his hands an almost permanent fixture in his disheveled curls at this point. It was hard to believe this man was a pressure player.

“It's not piss, it's her waters. We need to go, I’m sorry baby, you can have all the ice tea you want when it's safe for you both.” He bent down and caught your sodden legs, picking you up in one sweep.

If you weren’t currently covered in amniotic fluid, that story book firefighter carry would have set your loins ablaze.

Who were you kidding?

You were absolutely drenched in amniotic fluid and your loins were practically smoking.

Between writhing in pain as your uterus contracted to eject a literal watermelon and lusting over your baby daddy who you had spent the last eight days practically snarling at every time he dared advance, the journey to your delivery suite had been all but a blur.

Somehow all three men surrounded you, having coerced their way through the midwifery staff with their nefarious charm.

“How ya’ doing champ?” Santi questioned as you huffed on the oxygen inhaler handed to you by your midwife. A thumbs up was all you could offer as you groaned through the contractions that were now give or take five minutes apart.

“How about we use a bit of gravity?” The woman in control of the drugs questioned. A suggestion you were only more than happy to try.

Following her instructions and with minor assistance from Ben you were now on all fours, frantically inhaling the gas and air.

“We’re going to need to clear the room, anyone who isn’t the father needs to leave.”

You were so far gone, you didn’t care if they saw the business end of your cervix. All you knew was uncontrollable pain that wracked your body every five minutes like a sadistic egg timer.

Ben wiped at your forehead with a damp towel as tears escaped.

“You can do this, baby.”

“UGNGH.. It feels like I’m shitting a knife!” You cried as another contraction wracked your body.

“Not long now, gorgeous. Then we’ll have our baby.”

“I’m not ready.” You cried burying your face in the reclined back of the bed. You couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“You are-”

“No. We’re not ready. Things were … supposed to be fixed… I promised her.”

“Wha-”

“I love you, you stupid fucking idiot. I have done for like ten years… loved you from the second I heard your tone deaf ass singing that … crappy hick song on base. Ungh… And everything is so broken because I don’t want you … to just stay for the Bean, I want to be with you … because you want to be with me.” You cried, tears wracking your body as uncontrollably as the contractions.

“It’s all broken… I promised her and I fucked it all up. You … and Jaz can just live happily ever-” You cut yourself off with a low wail as another contraction wracked your body. It seemed to knock Benny out of his stupor as his hand rubbed your lower back.

It was a moment before you leveled out and remembered you were divulging your innermost thoughts but a moment ago, though you couldn’t find it in you to care.

Bigger fish to fry, and all that.

“I love you. Even if you are the goddamn most stubborn fuckin’ idiot I’ve ever met. You're the mama of my baby, yeah. It scares the crap outta me. Loving you. Damn near spent three months thinking up all the reasons we couldn’t be together cause it scared me so bad.” He huffed, stroking your hair. He helped you reposition on your back, as you breathed in another wave of oxygen. “I love you, Y/N. - I don’t do this. I don’t do relationships … because this feeling in my stomach when I think of you is fuckin awful. Sure I get the tingles when you smile at me or stroke my arm. But ninety-nine percent of the time, fucking nightmare, I worry if you’re happy, if you’ve eaten and now we’re adding an whole ass entire other person into this fucking clown show.”

“Gee… thanks.” You huffed in between breaths of gas and air.

Ben chuckled as he pushed the sweat sodden hair back from your brow. He leaned forward, pressing his mouth against yours, the kiss was brief and nowhere near what was needed but it was all you could manage.

It was enough, you thought at that moment.

The promise, that everything wasn’t lost, there was hope ahead, it carried you through.

@sixshooter665 @queenie-b- @rambling-in-purple @anaaaispunk @miraclesabound @kravitzwhorehore @ahsokathearcher @xoxabs88xox @heresathreebee @psychadelichue @marauderskeeper @tanzthompsonn @mermaidxatxheart

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floralpascal · 2 years

Text

Triple Frontier Terms of Endearment Headcanons

Will:

• Calls you sweetheart, honey, and baby, in that order depending on how intimate of a setting you are both in

• Sweetheart is his default for everyday stuff, his go-to that he calls you most of the time

• He’ll call you sweetheart in front of anyone and everyone

• Uses honey when he wants to be more sweet

• He’ll use it in public, but the guys hear him call you it the most

�� Uses baby when emotions are particularly high, especially when things are more intimate

• He’ll call you baby whether you’re having a really heartfelt discussion or you’re fucking so hard that you won’t be able to walk the next day

• He usually only uses it when you two are alone

• Benny heard Will call you baby once and knew it was time for him to make an excuse and leave the two of you alone

Benny:

• Cycles through every term of endearment known to man

• Really it’s like spinning a wheel, you never know which he’s going to use next and it’s never the same as the last

• Darlin’ does come up quite a lot, although he will never admit that he uses it more

• Sometimes he gets creative with them too

• They’re the most dumb, cheesy, and off-the-wall ones you’ve ever heard

• Like fruit loop?? Who says that

• You swear he must have googled some of them

• He even started using French terms of endearment out of nowhere?

• He doesn’t even know French

• He’ll usually use more normal ones when you’re having sex, but will 100% use the cheesy ones if he’s in more of a playful mood

Frankie:

• In English, he sticks to baby and babe

• But in Spanish, he’s actually a lot more like Benny

• He will use every term of endearment he can, but he only really uses normal ones (unlike Benny)

• Cariño is his ultimate go-to, though

• Although, if he notices you like one more than the others, he will definitely use it more

• And he will use it if particularly wants your attention

• During sex, your favorite one is the only one he will use

• Other than that, he uses English and Spanish terms of endearment about equally

Santi:

• Sticks to rather dramatic terms of endearment no matter the language

• Will is the one who has dubbed it “dramatic”

• In English, he uses my love, love of my life, and beloved

• If he’s joking around, he’ll call you angel

• In Spanish, he uses mi amor, mi vida, mi corazón

• He will use others, but uses these most of the time

• He gravitates towards any that he can put “my” before

• Really prefers to use the Spanish terms of endearment

• He uses the same ones when you’re having sex, but he also often throws in princesa

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kind-hufflepuff · 1 year

Text

GARRETT

The Swans of Antioch on a03

#aesthetic #twillight #ship #🔞.nsfw #fanfic #mlm #lgbtqia #carlisle cullen #bella cullen #bella bashing #charlie swan #charlie x garrett #incubus #vampire #vampire x incubus

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Text

Time.

You get shot in Colombia. Frankie, Benny, Santiago and Will all have their own ways of helping you heal.

Pairing - Santiago Garcia, Frankie Morales, Benny Miller, Will Miller x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, mentions of blood, gunshots

Word Count - 4329

Author's Note - hi lovely people. i loved writing this one so much oh my :( those four boys in one movie together is a dream. and i don't know if you noticed, but i have a real soft spot for will. and yes, i did photoshop ben afflecks character out of that picture. more than happy to write for any of the triple frontier boys individually - just send me an ask! as always, lots of love x

my other triple frontier fics - Tethered, Tranquility and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

It’s been 6 days since you were shot.

6 days of blood, pain, sterility, stitches, hazy memories that float into your consciousness like smoke in the air.

You somehow remember it both clear as day and blurry as night.

The metallic taste of copper in your mouth, clear as day.

The searing, burning pain in your side, clear as day.

The panicked looks on the boys faces, the yelling, the frantic scrambling – clear as day.

The rest of it? Blurry as night.

You can’t remember getting home. One minute you were bleeding out on the ground in Colombia, and the next minute you’re back on US soil, lying in a bed in Houston Methodist Hospital.

You can’t remember your discharge. You fell asleep on those sterile, crinkly white sheets, and woke up in a soft bed, wrapped in a navy blue comforter that smells like Will.

All you’ve known for the last 6 days is sleep. That molten sleep that moves like molasses, warm and slow and sticky. The sun rises and sets, and you’re none the wiser. Floating aimlessly through unconsciousness, just you and your dreams.

Unbeknownst to you, you haven’t been alone for a minute since you got home. The boys have taken turns sitting by your bedside, heart rates rising whenever you stir. All of them silently processing what all of this means, for you and for them.

It was damn close. Too much blood. Pints after pints after pints of it. Pouring over Will’s hands, soaking into Benny’s jeans, slipping beneath Santiago’s boots, choking the air around Frankie where his forehead was pressed to yours, begging you to stay awake. All of them wondering the same thing – where has all of this come from? Surely one person can’t have so much blood in them. It can’t all be from her.

The Doctor said that you got lucky. Any more blood loss and you’d have lost your life too. Your surgeon said that you owed your life to whoever stopped the bleeding.

William ‘Ironhead’ Miller. He’d shoved his hand straight into the wound, applying as much pressure as he could without breaking any ribs. It was the worst thing he’d ever seen, but he was in fight or flight mode. He knew it had to be fight. He hoped you were making the same choice as you were lying there, breath rattling in your chest like pennies in a tin can.

Some would call it a miracle. Divine intervention, perhaps. You shouldn’t have survived. Scientifically, statistically, you should have died right there on that floor, in a mission gone wrong. Tragic accident. Caught in the crossfire. Collateral damage.

But you didn’t. Now, you’re half conscious in Will’s guest bedroom, enveloped by his scent. Warm, cozy, safe, and alive. You’re struggling to stay awake for more than ten, fifteen minutes at a time. It’s all catching up to you. You had to fight so hard to take each breath, that now you’re exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that sleep can’t fix. No, it’s settled into your gut, wrapped it’s limbs around your bones. It keeps you weighed down and heavy, a reminder of the trauma. You’re alive, but you’re tired. So tired.

The boys are worried. Worried beyond belief. When the Doctor told them she was happy to discharge you, reality hit the four of them like a high-speed freight train. How do they navigate this? You can’t go home. You can’t be by yourself. They’re all back on Texan soil, which means work, and family, and bills to pay, and routines to carry out. How do they factor in the woman they call their best friend, who’s currently in the deepest sleep of her life with a healing bullet hole in her side?

“I’ll take her,” Will had said. “She can stay with me, in my guest room. You guys can come over whenever you want. I have the most space, anyway.”

That was true. Santiago and Benny live in apartments, bachelor pads really, and Frankie’s second bedroom is his daughter’s room. She was only with him on weekends, but she needed a place to sleep, so that was him out of the question. Having you stay with Will made the most sense. They all agreed to come and sit with you in shifts, so Will could go to the grocery store, or for a run, or to take a shower. The Doctor never actually said that you needed twenty four hour surveillance, but the boys thought it would be best. Just in case.

So that’s exactly what they did. You’re on bed rest, and they’re all happy to play nurse for a few hours during the day, and to leave you with Will during the night. He’s been sneaking in to sleep in the armchair next to your bed. His room, a mere ten feet away, feels too far. He wants to be able to hear if you need his help. Just in case.

None of the boys quite know how to treat you. They don’t want to act any differently around you, but it’s hard not to. They haven’t seen you like that before. You, a force to be reckoned with. The backbone of the group. You, with your sharp wit, quick humor, blinding smile. You, who always seems to be a step ahead of them. You, a pillar of strength, proving yourself just as capable in this world designed for men. Lying on the ground, painted crimson, you looked fragile. Small. Frail. You looked so… innocent. So afraid. That was the scariest part for all of them – seeing the fear in your eyes. They’ve never seen that before. They never want to again.

So, they all take their different approaches. They cope the best way that each of them knows how.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

When Frankie visits, he always brings a book.

Cracking open the door, he pops his head around the frame, smiling as he sees both you and Will asleep – him in the chair, you cozy in bed. He gently squeezes the blond man’s shoulder, whispering as he wakes.

“I got her for a while. You go do what you need to do.”

Will shoots him a grateful smile and stretches his arms above his head, before padding out of the room, softly shutting the door behind him.

Frankie opens the curtains, letting the soft morning light fill the room. It illuminates your face, catches on the strands of your hair, making it glow. You look like an angel, in this orange haze. But Frankie already knew that.

Your eyes flutter open, and land straight on the broad man standing next to your bed, trusty cap sat atop his head. You smile, and his heart stops for a second. God, he’s missed that sight. All of the tension from the last week leaves his shoulders, and he sinks into the armchair next to you.

“Hi, Francisco,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse from minimal use.

��Hi, cariño,” he whispers back. “You doing okay?”

You nod, golden smile still etched on your face. The wound in your side is a dull ache, and the psychological pain keeps washing over you in spontaneous waves. But you’re okay.

“You here to babysit me?” you tease.

He smirks, which is all the answer you needed.

“You don’t need to. I’m okay, I swear,” you insist.

He looks at you and quirks an eyebrow, the corners of his lips still turning up slightly.

“Well, you’re my baby, and I’m sitting,” he winks. “Now that we’ve established that, what do you wanna do for the next few hours?”

His abysmal attempt at a joke makes you chuckle, which in turn makes you wince, pain shooting through your abdomen. He jumps out of his chair towards you, placing a hand on your cheek gently.

“Shit, querida. I’m sorry. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

Breathing deep and slow, you tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“Yes. For you to stop fussing. Sit down, Francisco. Your nervous energy is making me stressed.”

He exhales carefully, and presses a kiss onto the top of your head.

“Yes ma’am.”

He returns to his original place, and grabs a book from the nightstand.

“Have you read this already?” he asks, showing you the cover.

You shake your head, and he flips to the first page.

“It sounds good, actually. You comfy, cielito?”

You nod gently, holding his gaze. He flashes you one of his signature smiles – the rare, genuine, time stopping ones – and begins to read softly, in that dulcet, honeyed voice of his.

He reads to you for hours. You were only awake for 45 minutes, but he continued reading aloud anyway. Morning becomes afternoon, yellow sunlight beating through the open window. A gentle breeze blows the curtains and ruffles Frankie’s hair that is ever so slightly too long for his liking. He’d be perfectly content to read to you like this forever. He’s gotten so into the plot of the book that he doesn’t notice Will stood in the doorframe, watching with those careful eyes of his. They gleam blue in the sunlight, his golden hair glinting like citrine. He eventually catches Frankie’s eyes, and the older man makes his way over to the door, both boys talking in hushed whispers so as not to wake you.

“Has she been okay?” Will asks, eyes scanning your sleeping form.

“Perfectly fine. She was awake for about 45 minutes,” Frankie replies, pride evident in his tone.

“That’s the longest she’s been conscious since. Progress, huh?” Will smiles. Frankie can’t help but smile too. A week ago, they were huddled around your lifeless body, hands deep and bloody in your wound. Now, they’re watching you slumber peacefully, life returned to you like a gift from the universe.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

When Benny visits, he brings comfort with him.

He uses his key to let himself into Will’s house quietly, aware that you’re most likely asleep. It’s been a week and a half since everything happened, and while you’re awake more and more each day, you’re also still on bed rest.

Creeping up the stairs and peeking his head around the door that’s ajar, he finds Will sat at the end of your bed. You’re awake, but barely. The light shines from the hallway into the bedroom, and illuminates your tear stained cheeks.

Will wipes your cheekbone with his thumb gently, and moves to meet his brother. The older Miller pulls Benny into the hallway, shutting your door momentarily.

“She’s having a real bad day. The worst since she’s been home. The memories are flooding back man, they’re drowning her.”

All the colour is gone from Will’s face. He looks helpless. His brother hates it.

“I don’t know how to help her,” Will continues. “The tears won’t stop. It’s like every time she calms down, another nightmare takes her by surprise. I don’t know what to do, Ben. I don’t know what to do.”

Will’s voice is shaking, tears threatening to spill from those cerulean eyes. He has a hand fisted into the front of Benny’s shirt, as if he’s grounding himself. There’s something unsettling about seeing the calmest person in the room start panicking. Benny doesn’t like it.

“Hey, it’s okay. She’s gonna have bad days, that’s a given. Go get some fresh air, go for a drive or something. I’ve got her. I ain’t gonna leave her.”

Benny looks pointedly at his big brother, and inhales deeply. They exhale together, and Will wipes his face with the back of his hand.

“Are you sure?”

Benny nods. Will trusts him.

“Okay. Call me if you need anything and I will come straight back. I mean it, Ben. Anything.”

Benny pulls his brother into his chest, holding him for a moment. Will isn’t used to being the glue holding everything together, he thinks. It’s usually you.

Will pulls away and starts his journey down the stairs, momentarily pausing to watch Benny straighten his shoulders and clear his throat before opening your door carefully.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he smiles.

You don’t feel gorgeous. No, you feel like you’ve shattered into a million pieces in William Miller’s guest bedroom. The weight of your trauma has come crashing down on top of you suddenly. It’s suffocating and it’s choking you and no matter how many times you inhale, your lungs won’t fill with air. Tears keep streaking down your cheeks despite your best efforts to stifle them. You wonder if you’ll feel like this forever – forced to carry around the weight of surviving something that you weren’t supposed to.

Benny’s never been any good with words. So he tells you what he needs to with his actions instead.

He kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, throwing it on the chair. Then, he unbuttons his jeans and slides them off his legs, tossing them sideways with haphazard aim. The last thing to go is his t shirt, which he shucks over his head with ease, landing somewhere with the rest of his clothes. He moves across the room towards you and pulls back the comforter. He strokes your cheek with his knuckles gently, looking at you carefully to gauge your reaction. When he’s satisfied, he climbs into bed behind you, pulling you mindfully to sit in between his legs, his chest pressed to your back. He pulls the comforter back up over the two of you, and uses his arms to cage you in to him, enveloping you in his warmth.

Benny’s always run hot. You joke that he’s like a walking space heater, a radiator if you ever need one. Right now, it’s like having your own ball of sunshine, warming you gently from the outside in. You feel the safest you have in two weeks.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs into your hair. He pulls you in tighter, and nudges your head to rest in the crook of his neck. You inhale deeply – the first real breath you’ve been able to take all day. He smells like sunshine, and salt, and sandalwood, and safety. You relax into him and let all the tension leave your body. You let go of the flashbacks, and the fear, and the chaos, and surrender yourself to Benny.

He stays with you like that for three days. He doesn’t separate himself from you more than a few inches for 72 whole hours, keeping his arms wrapped around you from behind, as if holding you together. When he gets up to go to the bathroom, he takes you with him. You stay attached for three days, skin to skin, allowing his warmth to seep into your bones, to settle your nerves. You’re convinced that no medicine could heal you the way Benny is. Science doesn’t have a match for this. It never will.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

When Santiago visits, he brings his guitar.

The first time he came to see you, right at the beginning, he sat with you for 20 minutes before he careened out of the room, gasping for air. The silence was strangling him, sending him into some sort of panic attack. Then, the guilt settled, and he felt like he’d betrayed you so badly that he couldn’t bring himself to go back in. He sat on the floor of the hallway with his back pressed against the door for 6 hours before Will returned home, concern coursing through his veins.

When Santiago explained what had happened, Will looked at him knowingly.

“You don’t have to be deathly silent, you know. You can watch some TV, turn the radio on. Frankie reads to her. Benny talks her ear off - doesn’t stop fucking rambling. I walked in the other day and he was explaining the current state of the NBA to her, team by team. She’ll sleep no matter what.”

Santiago nods, patting Will on the back lovingly before leaving, weighed down by shame.

The next time he visits, he brings his guitar.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s hoping you’ll be asleep. It’s easier to play for you if you aren’t looking at him like he hung the moon with those big, bright eyes of yours. But, lo and behold, he walks into the room you’ve made your own, and you’re wide awake.

“Hi, handsome,” you smile. “Where you been?”

“Oh, you know,” he smirks, “just caring for all the pretty girls that need my help.”

“And here I thought I was special,” you tease.

That smile of yours wraps itself around his heart, tangling in the core of him. You’ve always had that effect on the boys. One grin from you, and all of their problems melt away, even if just for a moment.

“You staying today, or you gonna run away again?”

You’re joking with him. Why are you trying to make him laugh? You should be upset, telling him that he’s a bad friend, that all of the other boys have sat with you for hours, so why can’t he?

But instead, you continue.

“I’m kidding, Santi. I get it, you know. I don’t think I’d be able to sit in a room with you lying there all half dead and helpless if the roles were reversed.”

You’re looking at him with so much understanding in your eyes that he has to choke down the tears that are trying to escape from him.

“It’s not that. It’s just – it’s my fault, bebita. You wouldn’t have even been in Colombia if it wasn’t for me. I’m the reason you got shot.”

He’s crying now – heavy, ugly sobs crawling their way from his chest, up to his throat. His knees give out, and he sits on the side of the bed, hands fisting in your comforter.

“Santi, baby. Hey. Look at me. Please, Pope.”

Your pleading gets his attention. He looks at you with those red rimmed, watery eyes, and your heart breaks so hard you swear you can hear it shatter.

“It wasn’t your fault, Santi. I followed you out there voluntarily. We all did. You know I’d follow you anywhere. I still would. It could have been any of us that got hurt. I’m glad it was me. I wouldn’t be able to stand seeing any of you in a hospital bed. It’d break me.”

You’re crying now too, at the thought of one of the boys in your situation. The bullets, the blood, the makeshift bandages they shoved into your side, ripping their shirts and tearing apart anything they could find. You couldn’t have survived that, if the roles were reversed. You wouldn’t have wanted to.

You press your forehead to his, hands tangling in the front of his shirt. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, needing you as close as possible.

You fall asleep like that, face pressed into him, his heartbeat in your ear. Santiago tucks you back into bed gently and takes his place in the armchair, settling down. Pulling his guitar out of the case, he tunes it slowly, meticulously, before beginning to strum the strings carefully. He picks at the strings, playing you tune after tune, only stopping to stretch his arms and crack his knuckles. He plays for you for hours, time slipping by him like sand through his palms. When you wake, you keep your eyes closed, savouring his presence for just a moment longer.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Will doesn’t visit.

He sticks steadily by your side, day in, day out. If Frankie visits for 6 hours, Will sits with you for the other 18. When Benny holds you for 3 days, Will gets anxious, popping his head around the doorframe every few hours, checking in just in case. Since everything happened, Will’s whole universe has revolved around you. Which, he’s realising, is the way it’s always been. His whole world has always been you. He’s just been forced to confront that truth now, and it’s scaring him.

He’s suddenly aware of the fact that he almost lost you. He’s never felt fear like that before. He’s had men press guns to his temple, shoot at him from mere feet away, fight him with their fists. That’s nothing, now. He’d take that any day over watching you lie there, drenched in crimson, dripping with pain. His hands, twisted into your side, wet and slipping, trying to quell the dam that’s broken inside of you. Your eyes, looking into his, terror grasping your whole body like a cold chill. When he falls asleep at night, all he can hear is the way you said his name, like it was the last thing tethering you to the Earth.

He makes a silent vow to himself. A promise - to never let you go again. To protect you forever, no matter what. All of this trauma has just made him love you more. He’s not sure what the future will look like, for him, or for you. But he knows that right now, you need him.

And so he pours all of his love into his actions. He makes you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and sits with you as you eat slowly. He eats at your speed, too - always doing everything at your pace. He combs your hair every morning gently, brushes your teeth twice a day carefully. He tucks you in when you fall asleep, pulling the comforter around you, keeping you safe and warm. As soon as one of the other boys leaves, he takes their place, sitting in the armchair – making sure you’re never alone. Whenever you’re awake, he listens to you pointedly, nodding and smiling. When you have a bad day, he’s right there next to you, wiping the tears from your cheeks and murmuring reassurances gently.

He watches as slowly but surely, you come back to yourself. You’re awake more often, smiling more confidently, cracking jokes and asking for laughs. The two of you are chatting like you used to, about nothing and everything. And you watch as slowly but surely, he returns to Will. The frown lines in his forehead become less pronounced, the worry in his eyes fades slightly. The smiles he throws your way are bigger, more genuine. The scales balance out again.

You’ve been in bed for two weeks when you decide to ask him for a favor.

“Hey, Will?” you query, looking at the blond man who’s currently folding laundry on the dresser.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he replies instantly, ready to give you anything you could possibly ask for.

“Can we go outside? I think I might go insane in this room real soon,” you smile, bright and bold.

He beams at you, relief washing over him like an ocean wave. You haven’t left your bed for a fortnight. He’s offered a couple of times, but you refused, scared to leave the comfort of the safe haven you’ve created. But you’re ready now.

“Of course we can. You want me to carry you?”

His tone is light, jesting, but you know he’s being serious. Neither of you are actually sure if you can walk all the way outside.

“I can walk if you carry me down the stairs? Not sure I’m quite ready for those yet.”

He grins at you, and your heart stops. That smile of his seeps into your pores, lifts you up, sends energy flowing through your veins. You’re alive, and you’re okay, and Will Miller is looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. You feel invincible.

Admittedly, it does take you 20 minutes to get from your room to the back patio. Will throws a strong arm beneath yours, holding you up as you take the journey step by step. When you reach the stairs, he picks you up bridal style, carrying you carefully. Before he sets you back on your feet, he nudges his nose to yours, still grinning.

The sun soaks into your skin outside, gentle breeze rippling your t shirt that you’re now realising is Benny’s. The leaves rustle in the trees, and you inhale the world, as if seeing it again for the first time. Will sits right next to you on the bench, hand holding yours tightly, fingers interlaced as if he’s worried you’ll blow away.

You glance at Will’s watch and see that it’s only 1pm. You have so much time left. So many possibilities to be fulfilled, so many people to love, so many places to see. But for now, you press yourself into the blond man’s side, settling in. You fit perfectly. Almost as if this is where you belong.

“Can’t believe I almost died without telling you I love you,” you murmur. It’s quiet, but he hears you, loud and clear.

“It’s okay,” he reassures. “You’re here now. We have time. So much time.”

“Forever,” you whisper. “We have forever.”

He turns to look at you in the hues of the bright afternoon. His blond hair is glowing gold, and his blue eyes match the sky, hopeful and full of promise. His hands come up to cradle your face, and he caresses your cheeks with his thumbs, rubbing comforting circles into your skin. He moves in closer, and nudges his nose into yours. He breaks out into a grin, and you can’t help but join him. Leaning in, he presses his lips to yours, soft and reassuring. You melt into him, running one hand into his hair, the other at the nape of his neck. He pulls you impossibly closer, until every part of you is pressed together. The sun is still beaming, and the birds are chirping, and you have time.

“Forever,” he whispers into your mouth when he breaks the kiss.

“Forever,” you murmur back. “We have time.”

You have time.

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best-character-named-x-poll · 14 days

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have you done your daily click

#best character named x #poll #poll game #kelly collins #kelly bailey #kelly kapoor #kelly 087 #kelly garrett #kelly severide #cadet kelly #misfits #the office #halo #halo alpha #charlies angels #chicago fire

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l00na24 · 9 months

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I Got Your Six (Series) Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Benny Miller/ F!Reader x TF Boys

Rating: 18+, NSFW

General Warnings: violence, blood, language, angst, etc.

This story contains mature content. If you continue reading, you agree that you're old enough to handle it!

A/N: Hello 😊 This is my first fic/ series I'm posting here and the first time writing for the TF boys too, so please don't judge :) English is not my first language but I try my best, so apologies in advance for possible grammar or spelling errors.

The perspective of the reader is written in first-person, the view of the guys/ the narrator will be in third-person.

This whole thing was an idea of mine for quite a bit now, thanks to being obsessed with Benny Miller and the rest of the boys since first watching Triple Frontier a few months ago and reading a lot of masterpieces of them here. I was debating on trying and posting it but in the end I wanted to take the leap and give it a go. I really hope you enjoy reading it 💕

Summary:

They were not prepared for the moment they lost their most precious thing…

You.

They didn’t know what happened to their little, sweet and innocent butterfly that got ravaged by the raging monster inside that finally clawed its way out of its dark cage…

How do you tame a monster that surrounds itself with its own darkness and kills everything that even dares to come close?

That destroys everything in its path?

That you don’t recognize anymore?

Is it worth saving?

Maybe, and just maybe, four ex-special forces guys actually could accomplish the impossible…

But for sure it ain’t gonna be easy…

Will they make it? Gonna have to see that.

🌿Chapters🌿

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

#benny miller #benny miller x reader #will miller #william miller x reader #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #francisco morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #garrett hedlund #charlie hunnam #oscar isaac #pedro pascal #IGotYourSix

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hoedamn-eron · 10 months

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baby, please - best buds

Santi tells his friends about the babies.

Warnings: Drinking of alcohol in a bar. Swearing. Lads being lads (respectfully). Brief mention of STD. Brief mention of failed birth control. Brief mention of deceased friend (Tom). Lazily proofread so probably some mistakes. Word count: 1,551 F!Pregant!Reader, no use of Y/N, although you're just mentioned in this.

Apart of my Baby, Please universe. Can be read as a stand alone, but makes more sense if you'd read Part 7.

Series Masterlist

Santiago never got nervous. He’d been in dozens of life-or-death situations; bullets to the chest, deals gone wrong, the recent fiasco in Columbia, you name it. You had to have nerves of steel in his old line of work.

But telling his friends he was going to be a dad? Terrifying.

He wasn’t sure why he was worried. Well, he did, but these were his boys, his ride or dies (literally). The most they would do was rip into him for being an idiot and not checking your condom’s expiration dates. He was kicking himself for panicking so much, he wasn’t even the first one to have a kid. Frankie’s little girl was coming up to seven months old, and Frankie was still around. Tom had had a teenager for crying out loud, it wasn’t unusual for a child to be around them. Will is on the verge of asking Claire to marry him, and they’d probably have kids in the next few years, it wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be.

As he arrived at the bar, their usual hangout, Santiago took a moment in his truck to take a few deep breaths, closing his eyes as he leaned back on the driver’s seat.

It was going to be fine. They’ll be happy for him.

After double checking the ultrasound was in his pocket, Santiago climbed out of his truck, closing the door with a little more force than necessary. He slipped his hands into his jeans pockets as he walked to the bar before opening the door, the immediate warmth and smell of whiskey and wood bringing a familiarity that calmed his nerves slightly.

Only slightly.

“Pope!” called a booming voice over the music.

Santiago looked to his right and gave a small grin as he spotted his friends around a small round table in the back corner. Benny was stood, his arms in the air and a large smile on his face as if Santiago hadn’t heard him shout over the noise of the bar.

Santiago made his way over, Benny immediately bringing him into a hug. Santiago gave him a thump on the back before greeting Will and Frankie. “How you guys doing?” Santiago asked, taking a seat next to Frankie, trying hard to ignore the tightness in his chest, and the heavy feeling in his stomach.

“Doing all right,” answered Benny, who had taken his seat next to Will. “Helping this lovesick bastard plan his engagement to Claire.”

Will rolled his eyes. “I’m not a lovesick bastard.” He gives Benny a light punch on his arm.

Frankie gave a chuckle, taking a sip on his beer before looking giving a tap on Santi’s arm. “What do you want? I’m buying.”

Santiago ordered his usual before Frankie stood, walking to the bar. Santi turned back to Will, trying to distract himself (or delay the inevitable just a little longer). “So do you know when you’re going to do it?”

“We’re going visiting her family in Colorado next week, and she wanted to go to the Denver Botanic Gardens,” replied Will, giving a small grin. “Supposed to be really nice this time of year.”

“We’ve been trying to find a photographer all day who’s based in Denver,” teased Benny, giving a smirk to his brother.

“And I told you, I’ll email that redhead who you think is ‘hot’,” muttered Will, giving Benny another punch on the arm. “She did some pretty awesome shots of some scenery, might hire her for the actual wedding.”

Santiago looks up as Frankie abruptly returned, handing him his beer. “Thanks, Fish,” Santiago replied, taking an immediate large gulp as the nerves settled in again.

“So what’s going on with you?” Frankie asked, hitting Santiago with a stern stare.

Fuck Francisco and his ability to read Santiago like a book.

Santi shook his head, feigning ignorance. “Don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re tapping your foot,” Frankie said, motioning to the floor. “You only do that when you’re nervous, and you’re never fucking nervous, hermano. What is it?”

Santiago mentally kicks himself for not even noticing his fucking foot was tapping. Frankie was met with silence as the other occupants stared at Santiago with worried looks at Frankie’s statement. Santiago cleared his throat as he placed his beer on the table before speaking again. “I actually have something to tell you guys.”

“What is it?” Will asked, his brow furrowed at Santiago.

“If it’s another job, we’re not interested,” said Frankie, already shaking his head.

Santiago shook his head quickly at his friends. “No, it’s…nothing like that.” He averted his gaze for a second before looking back up at his friends. “Remember that woman I went out with?” he says, mentioning your name.

“The one in marketing?” Benny asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah, her,” Santiago said, nodding. “She, uh…she actually called me up again – “

“Oh shit,” Benny laughed. “She give you the clap or something?”

Santiago pulled a face at the joke, feeling like he might actually throw up right there on table. He took a deep breath before he reached into his pocket and pulled out the ultrasound. He had to remember; these were his boys. After a moment’s hesitation, he placed it on the table, his friends all leaning in to look at it.

Frankie was the first to react. He smirked, muttered a, “Holy shit,” before picking up the photo and taking a closer look at it. His smirked only widened. “Holy shit. Is that two?”

Santiago grinned nervously back at Frankie. “It’s two.”

“Man, you have your work cut out for you,” laughed Frankie, placing the ultrasound back on the table before standing, Santi following. They embraced, Frankie giving a few solid pats on Santiago’s back. “Congrats.”

“That’s not real,” said Benny, also picking up the ultrasound to take a closer look, Will leaning over his shoulder. “You’re fucking with us.”

“It’s real, man,” said Santiago, as he and Frankie take their seats again. His shoulders relaxed slightly, now that it was out in the open, and his friends were reacting as he knew they would; he wasn’t sure why he was so nervous in the first place.

“They’re definitely yours?” Will asked, his brow furrowed as he took a glance at Santi before looking back at the ultrasound.

Santiago paused for a second before he nodded. “I think so.”

“You think so?” Will asked, straightening in his seat as he studied his friend. “Did you not get a paternity test?”

“She offered,” Santiago replied, shrugging. “But I…I trust her, I know she wouldn’t lie about this.”

“Fuck man, I don’t believe it,” said Benny, laughing as he placed the scan back on the table. He shook his head at Santiago before taking a sip of his beer.

“It’s real, Benny, why would I make this up?” Santi asked, chuckling slightly, pocketing the picture.

“I find it hard to believe that anyone would want to procreate with you, Pope,” laughed Benny.

“Pequeña mierda,” Santiago said, giving Benny a swift kick under the table, causing the younger man to laugh again.

“How far along is she?” Frankie asked.

“Seven weeks, give or take,” replied Santiago, picking up his almost forgotten beer. “Due in February.”

“How did that even happen?” Will asked, chuckling as he shook his head in disbelief.

Santiago snorted, taking a sip of his drink. “Don’t get me started. She didn’t check her birth control.”

“You idiot,” laughed Frankie. “You should always have a backup.”

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Santiago, giving Frankie a light shove. “I know.”

They table went silent for a moment before Will gave a huff before shaking his head. “Well man, congratulations. Wasn’t expecting this when I left the house tonight.”

“Fuck, you’re gonna be a dad,” said Benny, grinning widely. “To twins!”

Santiago groaned, taking a large gulp of his beer. “Don’t remind me. This shit is scarier than any job in South America.”

“I’m excited for you, Pope,” said Frankie. “You’re good with Sofía, and she loves you. She’ll be excited to have some cousins to play with from her Tío.”

“Thanks guys,” muttered Santi. “It’s fucking melted my brain, and I know it’s sappy but I’m glad I have you guys, because fuck, I don’t know what I’d do if I was alone.”

“You don’t ever have to worry about that,” said Will, giving Santiago a stern look.

Frankie silently gave Santiago a firm pat on the shoulder, giving him a nod. He cleared his throat before lifting his beer. “So…an engagement and two new babies. To new beginnings, huh?”

Santi nodded as he lifted his own beer, Will and Benny following. “To new beginnings.” Said Will, and the four of them clink their bottles together before taking a large drink.

They sit in silence for a moment, sparing a thought for Tom who was missing out on all these milestones that the group never thought they would be able to achieve, regarding their circumstances. The group do another silent cheers for Tom, before Will offers to buy the next round, leaving the table. They go back into a comfortable silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other’s company.

“How are you gonna carry two kids with your shitty knees?”

“Shut the fuck up, Benny.”

• Pequeña mierda - little shit

Tagged - @khonsulockley

#triple frontier #santiago garcia #benny miller #will miller #francisco morales #frankie morales #ben miller #william miller #santi garcia #f!reader #santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago x reader #santiago x f!reader #oscar isaac #pedro pascal #charlie hunnam #garrett hedlund

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