Summary: When the boys found you, you were bound to the wall, ankles and wrists blessing from the cuffs that kept you in that tiny jail, they had a feeling you haven’t even seen the light in a long time. You were scared and you didn’t even speak English.
It was Frankie who found you, he thought he heard a noise in the basement and surely enough, there you were. You were so scared you even threw a bowl and a small vase you found at him.
“We can’t bring her with us. She will slow us down.” said Ben as they all decided to do a small gathering and plan on what to do with you. Ben gave you a bottle of water and a poorly wrapped sandwich. You silently ate everything.
“So, what? You suggest we leave her?” asked Santiago.
“Probably not a good idea, she’ll be dead if someone finds her still here after what we just did.” Will made a good point. Everyone groaned.
“We can bring her to the plane, then we-”
“What we bring her home, Fish?! Are you insane? Stealing money is one thing but bringing an illeagal immigrant into the States is just-”
“I know someone, she will get a name, an identity.” replied Ben. “We can save her.”
“We are not her saviors. We can’t even talk to her, she doesn’t understand English! Can you speak to her? Spanish?” everyone shook their heads. “French” Again, everyone shook their heads. “German?” No. “Then what the fuck should we do?”
“Bring her with us, Benny’s friend will give her IDs and she will live. We killed enough people already.” said Santiago and everyone agreed, even if Tom wasn’t a fan of the idea, he decided to agree.
“We are going to save you.” Santiago said as he knelt down in front of you, offering you a smile.
You didn’t understand a word they were speaking, but you did understand their intentions.
They weren’t there to hurt you, they were there to help. Especially that really handsome one with the beautiful eyes and curly hair, you especially liked him, so you stuck with him. You followed him, watching his movement as he walked, you followed, just as silently.
You watched as they all panicked when you heard shots. You ducked behind a rock, but you couldn’t ignore that you saw an enemy with a gun behind one of the guys, you slowly walked there when no one was watching.
And just as Tom turned, he saw the gun, but the guy was pushed before he could fire and fell, Tom shot the guy before he looked up to see you crouching, he knew you pushed the guy.
“You saved my life,” he said as the others arrived.
—
You were confused. They all talked to you, saying things but you didn’t understand a thing. They all sat around a fire, talking to each other, laughing and you laughed with them, even if you had no idea what they were talking about.
You suddenly spoke up, saying your first name. And they all looked at you confused. They you said your name again and pointed at yourself.
“Ben.” one of them said.
“Will.”
“Tom.”
Okay, easy names, you thought.
"Francisco.” Oh Boy. “But call me Frankie.”
“Santiago.” another longer name.
You nodded and smiled to all of them.
You learned to say all their names. And when you finally got back, well, they got back, you were at a completely strange place.
You did what you knew would work, you stuck with Santiago. And you also knew what the gold ring on some of their fingers meant.
You were a foreigner not stupid.
Your journey with the men was… interesting to say the least.
They all made sure you were safe but Santiago in particular. And who were you to push away such a handsome hero?
—
“You can live with me while we figure this out, I’m the only one without a wife, girlfriend or kids so I don’t have any explaining to do, but you have to keep a low profile.” Santiago said and he repeated himself in Spanish, but you still didn’t understand a word. Yet, you still nodded, you understood his intentions, you understood that this was his home, typical bachelor’s home.
You were given a room and food. But you didn’t like that. Your room was too quiet, it felt cold like your cell. Even if the bed was the most comfortable you could ever ask for and the room was warm.
You still didn’t feel safe. You were lonely.
You often moved to Santiago’s room, trying to be quiet not to wake him up, you would silently laying down next to him, you felt better there, safer.
The first time he noticed you in his bed was when he woke up with you in his arms, in his sleep he unintentionally moved over to you and cuddled you.
He was concerned but he didn’t mind, he just didn’t want to overstep your boundaries. You were happy to cook for him, happy to watch movies with him, whatever he wanted really.
Days, weeks and months passed. You now had a basic English vocabulary.
“Dinner?” you asked Santiago as he was sitting on the couch.
“I’ll order something, come back the series in starting.”
This was your normal now, but you felt bad, ever since he and his team helped you, you didn’t do anything productive, and cooking doesn’t count. Not in your book at least.
You wanted to work, but with the language barrier, it was extremely difficult.
Later that evening, you were getting ready for bed when his phone started to ring.
It was Tom calling.
“What’s up?” asked Santiago as he answered.
“Pope, hi, how’s things with your new-found wifey?”
Santiago laughed a little.
“Not so bad, she can now talk a lot better, why did you call?”
“I know who she is Pope. She was taken from her village, I have a report. Her village was attacked, they killed everyone, even she is presumed dead. There was fire, gunshots, almost everything you can imagine.”
“That’s awful.”
“Yeah, and I also have some news, since she’s dead, well presumed dead, it will be difficult to get her past immigration, you are lucky I know a lot of people but she will need a new last name. I am filling in her papers and I-“
“I will marry her.”
“Sorry? You don’t need to play the hero Pope. It’s all good I put her down as a random, generic last name, but-“
“It’s not about playing the hero. I want to marry her. She’s perfect.”
Tom smiled on the other end of the line.
“Come over tomorrow, collect her papers, oh, and you better start teaching her fast, No government official will believe that she is American if she doesn’t even speak basic English.”
“Thank you, Tom.”
“I should thank her, she saved my life, this is the least I can do.”
You understood that this was needed. Giving you a new identity was difficult, but not impossible. With the correct connections, you were officially an American citizen.
“Now, you can leave the house.” Said Santiago as he gave you your brand new ID. “Leave the house, look for a house, job or whatever you want. But you can stay with me as well. I like you company you know that.”
“Stay with Santi.” You said “No leave. Stay and help.” It made him smile.
“Marry me.” He said, right there, in front of Tom’s house as you two were walking to the car. You tilted your head.
“Marry?” you thought that was a name.
“Yes, I’m asking you to be my wife.”
Now that word you understood.
“Me? Santi wife?”
“Yes. I love you.” You understood that word as well. And all those days you just thought it was one sided. That he only let you sleep next to him because he was kind.
“I love you too.” You said with a rather shaky voice. But it was the truth. Santiago smiled as he grabbed your jaw and pilled you close to kiss you.
You were so happy, you felt like your chest would burst. You not only were rescued from your prison, you got to know this lovely group of men, and you even found love.
This was the fresh new start you begged for every night in that cold, dirty disgusting cell.
frankie x female reader (slightly no use of y/n or she/her pronouns just the word sister)
warnings: angst, language, tension, alcohol mention, mention of claustrophobia and slight description of anxiety, and language
summary: you moved away from your family and boyfriend at eighteen. when you come back home for your parents 50th anniversary you weren’t expecting a rekindling moment with a certain pilot.
authors note: THE ENDING IS EVERYTHING AND IM SO PROUD OF THIS FIC! PLEASE LMK WHAT YALL THINK XOXO
They say you’ll never forget your first. First crush, kiss, date, love and heartbreak. However for you, you could never seem to get rid of him. But you weren’t complaining. Francisco Morales was more than your first for everything, he was someone who held more than one could handle- he was your rock. Well that was until the day that “you” ruined everything.
Your parents were known as the sweethearts of your hometown. Marrying right after graduation, they settled in the same town and brought up you and your sister Em. Your parents were involved in everything, your mom being a teacher and your dad being a sheriff. It was hard to blend in to say the least. But there was an ongoing loop. Everyone graduated and stayed home. Your older sister, Em, even became a part of that treacherous loop. And you hated that loop. You always dreamed of big cities, fashion, traveling the world, but mostly just getting out of town. And you had promised yourself that nothing would hold you back from pursuing that. Sadly Frankie thought he could have kept you a little bit longer. But things change- actually a lot has changed since you’ve been back home for more than a weekend stay. Now you were traveling back home for your parent’s 50th anniversary extravaganza. And nothing could help prepare you for the next few days.
Your plane had landed around one in the afternoon. Grabbing your luggage you made your way over to the area where Em said she would pick you up. Looking around you didn;t see her red car. Dialing her number you were ready to direct her to your terminal.
“Hello?” Em said on the other line. She sounded groggy and as if she wasn’t in the car.
“Terminal 47 remember.” You said angrily, Knowing she forgot.
“Shit.” She said, then another voice was heard.
“Babe what time is it?” You gasped at the sound of Pope’s voice.
“Hold on, you first forgot your little sister’s arrival at the airport, and you have Pope in your bed Em! When did he come back? What happened to independency?” You said rather loudly into the mic.
“Shut up. You’re too damn loud.”
“It’s literally tourist season, getting a cab into town will cost me tripple Em.”
“Well don’t call the Millers, they went fishing this morning. You could call-” She said even more groggily. But you hung up the phone before she could finish her sentence.
You couldn’t take your sister right now. You love her most times but she would’ve killed you if you did this to her. You were gonna call the Millers but if they were busy there was only one person you could call. Hearing the phone ring you were ready to hang up. But then he answered.
Omg that’s was… absolutely stunning… it gave me a little Italy Kinda vibe at the beginning though . This was just so cute… I just adore this so so much . That last line though Uggh I felt my heart melt… you melted my heart how mean (and by mean I mean nice… ) of you. How dare you make my heart melt. This is 100% going on Frankie’s FA when I update next. Hopefully it’s soonish…
@reblogingqueen thank you sm for your kind words☺️☺️little italy is one of my favorite movies and i can now see the parallels hahahaha. much love mwah
Drabble based off a prompt from a list below. I apologize for the lack of ‘keep reading’ link. It wasn’t working out.
He hated when you walked away, but you weren’t sure you would stay composed if you stood in front of him anywhere with your eyes wide and mouth open in evident surprise. Wasn’t he just saying a couple weeks ago that he was finally feeling settled? You left Will silent in the kitchen, right hand thrusted out of frustration into the pocket of his jeans while you pretended to try and collect yourself in the bedroom.
You weren’t actually making an effort to be composed though. Instead, you were mumbling small groans of confusion on your side of the bed while taking out your earrings. They were small gold studs, the first gift Will ever gave you. Almost 4 years ago, silently leaving the box on the bathroom sink of the apartment you’d been renting on your own at the time. He was so nonchalant about it that you didn’t notice the little black box by your toothpaste all day until he had to prompt you to go look. You wore them almost every day, but you needed something to do or else your hands would be left right now to furiously remove the pillows from the bed and toss them across the room.
Will sighed as he settled his side against the door frame. He had given you a minute to yourself, but it had felt like eons as he paced through the kitchen and pantomimed cleaning the counter. He wrinkled his brows together as he saw you taking out your earrings. What did that mean?
“It could lead to a lot of money, babe.” Slow and confident, as if he was wrapping up one of his professional speeches, he told you.
While you weren’t looking over at him yet, he had your attention.
“How much is a lot?” Money was a pink elephant in the room. You two rarely outright spoke about it, but the stress of combined bills at the end of every month was silently felt between you both.
“It would cover your student loans.” Will checked the space between his socked feet and then back to you. He hoped that nugget would bring your eyes to him again. “And then some”
It took you long to pipe up and you felt that, but the idea of never feeling the hot force of student loans pushing into your shoulders every month was momentarily enticing. He knew that. A man of few words, Will Miller wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.
“If the choice is between having huge debt for years or you going off and potentially being shot at again? I am always going to choose debt. Always.” Conviction cracking your voice, you finally looked at him in disbelief that you would have to say that. The obvious sadness pouring through you coaxed him over the threshold and into the room with you. “I just thought that was finally behind us.” He had a new routine now. He was on a sleep medication that worked. He wasn’t feeling isolated in a crowd anymore. The idea of him going back, even for one last job, felt like pissing all over that progress. You didn’t doubt that you two could do it again, but the idea didn’t set off fireworks. Hands between your knees, you sighed as he cautiously sat by you on the bed’s edge.
“It’s for Pope. It’s an easy job.” He said as if either fact was reassuring. His right hand came to the back of your head, fondly strumming through locks of hair. “I don’t want to go with my girl pissed at me.” Will admitted what you already knew, his thumb moving hair away to graze over the empty spot on your ear where the gold stud had been.
Part of you wanted to tell him again not to go, just as you had when you were both still in the kitchen, but you felt his eyes on your profile, fingers soft in your hair and on your skin, and you inhaled to reset - finally feeling closer to composed.
“I’m not pissed.” Your shoulder met his chest as you leaned in with trust, deflating against him. He wasn’t asking for your permission nor did he require it. It was your support that Will wanted as per usual. “I’m always going to worry about you, but I’m also always going to be in your corner.” It was a promise, one that you both were always reminding the other of. Will bowed his head over yours, breathing in the soft scent of sea salt shampoo before protectively closing his hand over the side of your face that wasn’t up to his chest. Finally, he could breathe a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was for you to go to sleep angry at him.
Just wanted to share the chapterboards for Chapters 9 and 10 of Frontier of Anarchy! ✨
tbh I haven’t even started writing Chapter 8 (I shared the chapterboard for that one along with Chapter 7 in this post previously!) but making these chapterboards has been part of my efforts to stay inspired to continue with this story
Rating: PG-13 (language, mentions of a “sleepover”)
Summary:Dating your best friend’s brother always comes with challenges. Benny doesn’t want to know any of the details about your relationship until he begins to wonder where he fits. | Ft. “Are you a thing now?” Requested by anon.
Pairing:Best Friend!Benny x Reader | Boyfriend!Will x Reader
Warnings: Some fluff, Benny being an annoying best friend, a little insecurity, some swears. That’s about it.
Word Count:2.3k
The moving playing in the background was one you’d seen at least a thousand times. Somewhere along the way, it became something of a comfort film - watched at least once any time Benny joined you for a movie night - and you were waiting for him to start quoting the villain’s lines aloud as he tilted his head to glance up at you.
Knowing him, the words on the tip of his tongue were either that or a train of thought only you would be privy to.
Benny’s position on your lap, head resting on your thigh and popcorn bowl resting on his stomach, was one that he’d adopted not long after you became friends. It was natural, easy, but you often joked that it made you feel like his therapist when he abandoned the movie to ask you questions that often lead to rethinking the ways of the universe.
“So, are you, like, a thing now?”
Unlike his previous questions - your thoughts on aliens, whether mankind is inherently good, how many marshmallows you imagined he could fit into his mouth and whether he would choke on them - there was no need to ask where this one came from or who he was referring to.
For nearly three months, you’d been seeing Will. It started slowly - neither of you were interested in rushing into something, let alone something with one another lest it leave you both in an awkward spot - but things were starting to get serious.
To friends that didn’t know him and strangers, you now referred to Will as your boyfriend. Benny knew - was the first to know, told by both you and Will the moment you decided to give one another a chance - but rarely asked for specifics. He knew enough to be kept in the loop - knew that you’d been spending more time together and that you’d moved beyond just getting to know one another romantically - but this was the first time he’d asked for clarity.
Still, you weren’t exactly surprised that he was asking now. When his early morning call - asking if you wanted to meet for breakfast as he’d been busy with training and you’d been busy with work, leaving you both unable to spend any time together - was answered by Will, it was bound to happen.
Despite the question - and your expectation that it was to come - Benny’s curiosity about your love life was rarely serious. He’d joked time and again that he didn’t want to know anything about your relationship with Will - he grimaced exaggeratedly and downed his beer the first time he saw Will wrap his arm around your shoulders - so you rolled your eyes and laughed at his question.
“Why?” As you reached for the popcorn, you fixed him with a raised brow and a playful grin. “You jealous, Miller?”
Though the question was lobbed at him in jest, a teasing jab meant to make him laugh, Benny seemed to take it a touch too literally. Something unfamiliar - something sad, anxious - flashed in his eyes as his cheeks flushed a warm pink. With a scoff, he sat up and shook his head as he averted his gaze.
“Fuck no,” he declared, not bothering to spare a glance in your direction. “I love you but not like that.”
The refutation was strong, one that carried more weight than a simple rebuttal should have, and was followed by another shake of his head. In the moment of silence that followed, Benny raked a hand through his hair - unweighted by the ratty cap he wore so often - and tapped his foot as he reached out for his beer as he attempted to gather his thoughts.
It struck you then, as you watched him furrow his brows and reach for the abandoned beer bottle on the coffee table, just how similar he and Will could be. Though Will seemed like the picture of stoicism upon first meeting him, he truly cared for the people in his life. His care was quieter than Benny’s - fewer words, more actions - but both Miller brothers wore their hearts on their sleeves around those lucky enough to be part of their lives. Benny could be rash, impulsive, but in the moments that mattered - moments like this - he took a page from his older brother’s book and fell silent as he tried to decide how to continue.
“I’m not jealous.” The repetition was unnecessary as you both knew that wasn’t the case - as much shit as everyone gave you, your relationship with Benny was strictly platonic and always had been - but his reaction gave you pause. There was, obviously, something simmering beneath the surface and it brought a frown to your lips as Benny took a pull from his now warm beer.
As he seemed to lose himself in his train of thought, you hesitantly attempted to answer the question that prompted the conversation. “I mean…” You paused for a moment to really consider where you and Will stood.
The relationship was exclusive - it had been all along, even if neither of you explicitly said anything in the beginning - and you could see yourself falling in love with him but that was not something you felt necessary to share with Benny in that moment. The relationship was one of the most stable you’d had in years, something you attributed to starting off so slowly, and you saw a future with Will in a way that you hadn’t with anyone else.
“Yeah,” you finally confirmed. “We’re a thing.” There was a moment of hesitation before you asked, “Is that… are you okay with that?”
Benny nodded quickly and nearly dropped the bottle onto the table as he returned it. “Yeah,” he confirmed, pausing momentarily to clear his throat. “It’s… yeah. Of course I’m good with it. I just…”
A beat of silence passed as Benny frowned. He shook his head once more before turning to glance at you. “Look,” he began, voice as serious as you’d ever heard him. “I’m happy for you. You and Will are perfect for each other. Just… say you get serious. That’s great,” he acknowledged, certain and firm in his declaration. “But what happens when Friday nights are date nights, not movie nights. And when dinner after a fight is just you and Will, not the three of us. And what happens if you break up? I know you’re both all tough and emotionally constipated and shit but it’d be weird. I’d lose my best friend and be pissed off at my brother.“
Though Benny no longer had any problem being vulnerable with you, this was the most honest - and serious - he’d been about his feelings in a long while. It made your chest ache as you studied the frown that looked so out of place on his face. Without a second thought, your expression mirrored his.
“Benny.” A soft sigh escaped your mouth as you reached out for him. When he frowned, eager to swat you away before you could pull him into an embrace, you tapped his hand away before tugging him closer. “You’re my best friend. I don’t say this often because your ego would be too big for my fucking house but I look forward to the time I get to spend with you. Movie nights are the highlight of my week when we can make them happen. And post dinner fights give me the perfect opportunity to make fun of you for getting your ass kicked. I’m not gonna give that up.”
Narrowed blue eyes met yours as you glanced at the man you’d grown so close to. You could see that there was an argument on the tip of his tongue - likely about his fighting, eager to deflect the conversation from something so serious - but you pressed on.
“Will knows that nothing between us is going to change. Before we decided to give us a shot, we sat down and talked through all the tough shit. One of the beauties of knowing Will before trying to really get to know him, I think. Just know that this,” you gestured between the pair of you and tilted your head to glance at Benny, “is good. We’re good. Right?”
A soft laugh escaped Benny as he tossed one arm over your shoulders before reaching for his beer. “Yeah,” he agreed with a nod, “we’re good. I really am happy for you both. It’s just… weird.” He paused for a moment to scrutinize you, blue eyes narrowed as he studied you, before he shook his head. “You know, I try but I just can’t figure out what he sees in you.”
A surprised gasp escaped before you shoved Benny away and reached for an abandoned pillow. “Oh, fuck you,” you laughed as you tossed the pillow in his direction. “I’m a complete catch and your brother is smart enough to understand that.”
“Mm.” Benny shrugged as he drained the remainder of his beer. He turned to glance at you with a badly hidden grin and glimmering eyes. “Poor guy.”
Benny stood, easily dodging the next pillow you tossed his way, and laughed as he wandered through the living room to the kitchen. “You’re a pain in my ass, Miller, you know that?”
He shrugged as he returned with two bottles in hand and a bright grin on his lips. “You would’t have it any other way.” The declaration was confident, easy - a return to the man you called your best friend - and made you roll your eyes as he settled back onto the couch at your side.
After a few moments of comfortable silence - during which Benny actually seemed to pay attention to the movie - you turned to glance at him. He raised a brow and glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “What’re you starin’ at, creep?”
“You’d really be pissed at Will if we broke up, even if it was my fault?”
Benny, who likely forgot he’d even said it, shrugged as he considered your question. “Depends on what you did,” he answered after a moment. “If he deserved it, probably.”
A surprised laugh escaped as you shook your head and reached for the bowl of popcorn. “I kinda love you. You know that, right?”
Another shrug from Benny as he nudged your beer closer to you and tilted his head to meet your eyes. “Mm. If you really loved me, though, you’d share the fucking popcorn.”
Instead of waiting, Benny reached out and snatched the bowl from your hand with a triumphant grin. You allowed him to keep it, not bothering to put up a fight, and shook your head as you sank back into the cushions to finish the film.
Once more, the silence only lasted a moment as the sound of a car door closing caught Benny’s attention. When the door closing was followed by footsteps on your porch and the jingle of keys, he frowned. He turned his attention to the door as the lock turned, momentarily on edge, before he turned to you. Benny raised an eyebrow as he sat up straight and glanced between you and the door. “He has a key? Come on, that’s more than a thing,” he declared, though you could hear the hint of laughter that tinged his voice.
As the door swung open and the thud of Will’s boots hitting the floor echoed through the house, you shrugged. “Well, ‘thing’ was fucking vague. That’s your fault.” You pointed your bottle at him and raised a brow as he shook his head. “He’s my boyfriend, Benny, he has a key. I’ve got a key to his place, too,” you admitted with a laugh as Will stepped into the living room and offered you a smile. “You really think I’m getting up at the crack of dawn to lock up after he leaves to go to the gym with you? Please.”
Benny made a face at the idea of Will sleeping over - just as he’d pretended to retch the moment Will answered your phone - and blinked as he glanced between you both. “Gross. Your love is disgusting, I hope you know that.”
Will shook his head as he dropped his backpack beside the couch and settled onto the arm at your side. As he did so, Benny moved to stand from the couch. “You can just say that you hit a dry spell. We won’t make fun of you,” Will offered, grin badly hidden as Benny glared at him.
“Speak for yourself, babe.” Benny grimaced at the pet name and rolled his eyes as you shot him a bright grin. “I will absolutely make fun of you.”
“Alright, fuck both of you.” It was said with a laugh as he reached for his cellphone and the hat he’d discarded on the table but before he could move any further, you shook your head.
“Sit back down, Benny,” you huffed, not bothering to glance at Will as he gave your hand a quick squeeze. “The movie’s not over yet.”
Benny glanced between you and Will - though he seemed uncertain as to what he was searching for - before he nodded and crossed the small distance to the loveseat. He dropped onto it and stretched out - head and legs hanging over the sides - before turning to look at Will. “You ever seen this one?”
Will moved from the arm of the couch to the spot Benny had just occupied and tossed an arm over your shoulders as he pretended to think for a moment. “Don’t think so,” he finally answered, barely bothering to look at the screen. He squeezed your thigh to keep you from blurting out that that was a lie - you’d made him watch it less than a week ago - and shrugged as he offered, “We could start it over, if you two don’t mind. Wanna see what the excitement’s about.”
As Benny launched into a passionate defense of the movie, eager to halt any potential argument Will could make before he could make it, Will tilted his head to give you a smile. Though Benny had valid reasons to worry, and though the future is never guaranteed, you couldn’t help but think that there would be no future without the Miller brothers in your life.
Author’s Note: I know Will is barely in this but, like. I’m a Benny girl, what can I say. I’m making a little progress on my next fic (Rick Flag) and then I’m going to try to get a Pedro character fic up (Din or Frankie, most likely; possibly Javi G). Anyway! I’ve written something! Now I’m gonna go continue my Enterprise binge.
summary : There’s a new maid cafe in town, and Frankie and his friends had to check it out!
word count :1.2k
warnings : the reader wears a maid outfit, reader is thick :3 , implied age gap (not specified), no use of y/n, reader uses they/them, slight fluff!
comments : i actually wrote this for someone else, but since i don’t write for them anymore, i revamped it to fit Frankie! theres another old one that i would like to fit into one of Pedro’s characters but i’m still debating on who hehe lil sneek peek of it, picnic date! (also ill fix the divider thing at the end later sorry!)
Ben learned of a maid cafe that had recently opened, and that it had already received positive feedback the first week it was open, with customers stating that the cafe is pleasant, has great food, and the maids themselves are all pretty. So it was only natural for Benny to invite the guys to the intriguing cafe.
The moment they enter, two maids welcomed them, adressing them as ‘masters’. One of the two approached them with a welcoming smile, escorting them to their seats, dismissing themself after giving them the menu.
They paused to take in their surroundings. The walls are painted light pink, while the floor and ceiling are white. Surprisingly, despite the bright colors, the room feels welcoming and pleasant. The cream chairs and tables also help to pull the space together. There’s also a showcase of delectable desserts, including a variety of cakes and ice cream flavors. The waitresses themselves are dressed in different pastel colored maid outfits.
After a few moments, you approached them and introduced yourself as their maid. You go on to describe the cafe’s set norms as well as the various amusements guests can order, such as a photograph with a maid of their choice. After you’d finished talking, you asked the guys whether they were ready to order, and you took it when they said yes.
“This place is pretty legit, huh. I feel out of place here.” Will states, the others nodding in agreement. As the guys conversed, Frankie eyed you from across the room. The light blue outfit you wore fitting your form to a T. You were chubbier than the rest of the maids, but to Frankie, that just made it better.
“Quit it, you know you’re not allowed to make moves on the maids,” the others said, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“What? “All I’m doing is staring.”
“We all know you’re going to flirt with them as soon as they come back.”
“I’m not going to, but it wouldn’t hurt to look.”
“Suure, suure, oh wait! Isn’t there a way to request a photo with them? Why don’t you get one?”
“That’s a little excessive.”
“Oh, come on, it’s just a photo, what could possibly go wrong?”
The conversation came to a halt as they notice your figure approaching their table, laying their orders on the table. Every meal was cutely adorned, with sauces drawn in the shape of animals while the drinks sprinkled with edible glitter. “Wait, before you go, we’d like to request a pic with you.”
Frankie glares at Will, perplexed. “Of course, you can! One of each, yes?”
“Nope, only one, with him.” He triumphantly declares, pointing to a flustered Frankie. You smile lightly, informing them that the picture will be taken after payment is made.
“You. Are. Welcome.” Frankie looks at him, puzzled and slightly enraged. “For what? Embarrasing me?”
“Oh please! It’s a good chance to woo them.”
“Did you forget the fact that i’m not allowed to?”
“Forget the rules! They could be the one or something.”
“When did you get all sappy.”
“Relax, Fish. Just take the damn pic, Will’s paying anyway.” Santi suggests. “Wait, what do you mean im paying?!”
“It’s only fair; it was your idea, and you’re forcing him to carry it out.”
Will sighs, “Fine.”
As they ultimately delved into their meal, the topic faded from their minds. Frankie can’t help but be nervous. He hasn’t dated anyone in a long time, let alone someone like you. Innocent, young and cute, a mere opposite of him.
You visit the four men’s table after they’ve finished their meals, asking how their food tastes and offering them the check while you lay the empty dishes on the tray. You nod gratefully as you accept their pleasant responses and the check, remembering to smile as you depart from their table.
While waiting for their payment to be processed, your gaze is drawn to the man with whom you are about to take a picture. You take note of his features; his cap, which had been off while he ate, had already been reapplied, concealing his dark brown curls. His mustache was neat, yet his scruff was uneven but rather appealing. But there’s something about his dark brown eyes that draws you in. His looks appears rugged at first, but if you look into those eyes, you’ll notice a gentleness radiating from him.
The ding of the register jolts you out of your reverie, and you compose yourself before returning to their table. “I apologize for the delay; we can take the picture now!”
You motion them to follow you to another room, where they will find a small studio. You explain how this will work to Frankie, “Before we shoot the picture, I’ll let you pick out any props or accessories you’d like me or yourself to use. After the photo is taken, I’ll personalize the photo for you using stickers and markers. If you let me of course!”
Frankie gives you a quiet nod and a little grin to put you at ease. He walks up to the table, which is laden with props and accessories, and the others follow. “Put these ears on!” Ben made a suggestion.
Ben removed his cap and clipped the dog ears into his hair before Frankie could even refuse, while Santi handed you the cat ears. “Do you want me to put the collar on as well?” “No!” Frankie screamed, eyes wide. “ It’s all right!” He averted his gaze to hide his blush.
“Is that all for the accessories?” you inquire, slightly adjusting your dress. Frankie nods once again, afraid that if he speaks, his words would betray him.
Nodding, you gesture him to the set, encouraging him to strike a pose. He hesitantly raises one hand to form a paw, smiling as the photographer takes the image, ignoring the guys’ laughs. You dash to the photographer to get the photograph and present it to Frankie. “Is it all you’d like it to be?” “It looks all right.” “Great! I’ll go ahead and decorate it right now; don’t worry, I’ll be quick!“ Before approaching the desk with the decorating supplies, give him a friendly grin.
You attach the light blue and light brown stickers to match both your clothing, as well as draw a few mini cats and dogs to fit the motif, returning your gaze at the men before you place something else on the back of the picture. You quickly dry the photo by fanning it, wrapping it in a protective film then placing it in a small envelope. Last but not least, you sign your name and a ‘come back soon!’ on the front of the letter.
“Here it is! I’ll take you all to the entrance now!” You hand Frankie the envelope and head for the door as he takes it. “Thank you very much for taking the time to come by! We look forward to seeing you again soon!” You smile as you wave at them and watch them fade away.
He finally arrives at his own house after dropping off his pals at their homes. He took out the letter and opened it, sighing as he sat on his couch, appreciating your gorgeous self as well as your pretty writing and decoration. He was about to put it back in the envelope when he finally noticed the back.
summary: You wake up to find your long time crush, next to you!
word count:2.2k
warnings: reader has memory problems :( lil bit of angst, fluffly too tho always <3 oh and pancakes ! (no use of y/n and they use they/them!)
comments: hi! i’ve been having the most massive writer’s block lately so sorry for the lack of writings. i do have 3 other wips that i’ll hopefully finish soon! but for now hope yall enjoy this one!! (also yes this is a reupload)
As you awaken from your slumber, sunlight enters your eyes through your unusually open window. Your eyes blinking quickly as they adjust to the bright light. Migraine consumes you as you slowly sit up, attempting but failing to recall the events of the previous night.
“Good morning, baby.” A voice suddenly appearing next to you, making you jump. It’s a familiar voice you heard, but your drowsiness makes it difficult to tell who it is. Surprisingly, you slowly turn to face them, only to see your long-time crush, Frankie. It took a few moments for you to realize what he had called you. Baby? Why would he call me that?
Confounded by your staring and lack of response, he placed a hand on your cheek, gently caressing it before slithering his hand to the back of your neck and pulling you in for a quick peck. “Sorry, I have to leave, but I’ll be back later in the evening, okay?”
You nodded quickly, still taken aback by the nickname and now by his kiss. You watch as Frankie gets out of bed, gathers his belongings, and remembers to smile softly at you before leaving the room.
Your body is still frozen as a result of what just happened. You touched your lips as you lay back down on your pillow. You try again and again to recall the events of the previous night, but you’re unsuccessful. Although, this isn’t the first time you’ve forgotten something important. Your mind works in a complex manner, possibly much more so than that of some or more people. Having a tendency to forget minor or major details, events, or even something that has just occurred. But it appears that this is the worst possible time for you to forget.
Frankie had been your friend for a long time, having met you in a bar when you were down and him completely cheering you up. Surprisingly, despite your terrible memory, you can recall every detail of that day. Your friend had nagged you to go out with her, promising you a good time if you came with her. Only for her to abandon you for some girl she met. Frankie had come to that bar for a quick drink, which turned into a long one when he encountered your sulking self.
You aren’t a trusting person, and you initially turned him down when he approached you. What else could he want besides to get into your pants, you reasoned. But a quick glance at his face reveals a gentleness beneath his rugged exterior. So you gave him the benefit of the doubt. What a good descision that was. He listened to you and comforted you until he saw a smile on your face that lasted until the end of the night and more.
From then on, he turned into one of your closest friends. He was nothing more than a great friend at first, always willing to be there when you needed him. But as you spent more time with him and got to know him, feelings began to emerge. So it’s a little heartbreaking for him to suddenly be in your bed, kissing you, and you have no idea why or how he got there with you. Did he kiss me last night too?
From then on, he turned into one of your closest friends. He was nothing more than a great friend at first, always willing to be there when you needed him. But as you spent more time with him and got to know him, feelings began to emerge. So it’s a little heartbreaking for him to suddenly be in your bed, kissing you, and you have no idea why or how he got there with you. What happened last night?
It feels like an eternity waiting for Frankie to arrive. You couldn’t wait to ask him about what happened the night before. But hold on. What if he gets hurt because I forgot about it? Clearly, he had a good night last night. But, on the other hand, I can’t just accept the fact that I’ve forgotten what might have been my first time with him. You spent the entire day trying to remember, retracing your steps around the house, but nothing came to mind.
You eventually stopped trying to remember those events, choosing instead to clean the house and make yourself more presentable for Frankie. And then, before you knew it, the bell rang.
“Hey, bought us food.” He gave you a kiss before letting himself in, putting the bag of food down before sitting down himself. “I was thinking we could watch-”
"I have something to say to you, Frankie.” You sat down next to him, hesitantly taking his hand in yours.
“Are you all right?” He notices your worried expression and frown. His hands caressing yours helps to calm you down a little. “Yeah, I just have something I need to tell you.”
“Of course, anything.”
Taking deep breaths, you muster the courage to tell him, “Frankie, I have terrible memory problems. I forget things very easily, to the point where I sometimes forget what just happened or even an entire day. I can’t keep it under control, no matter how hard I try.”
"That’s fine, honey. If you forget something, I’ll always remind you.” He carressed your cheek, leaning in for a kiss.
“No, wait a minute. I’m not finished yet.” You hold his face a little longer before proceeding. “I- I don’t remember what happened last night.”
“What?”
You let go of his hand, averting your gaze from his perplexed expression. He waits patiently for you to continue. “I have no memory of what happened last night. I tried all day to recall something, anything, but nothing came to mind. I don’t know why you kissed me this morning and why you were in bed with me. I figured something happened last night for you to do that, but no matter how hard I try, I just can’t recall it.” Before proceeding, you take a deep breath “Did i say something to you? Did you say something to me? I just need to know what happened, and i’m really sorry that i forgot.”
Frankie paused for a moment, slightly saddened that you forgot, but as you said, you didn’t forget on purpose, and he knows it. "Hey, It’s all right, I’ll tell you what happened.”
The ring of the doorbell drew your attention, and you dashed to it, opening it to reveal Frankie. "Hey! What brings you here? Come on in.” You lead him into the house and then sit down on the couch, where he joins you.
“I have the day off today, and what better way to spend it than with you?” He envelops you with his arm, snuggling you close. You laugh, feeling your cheeks warm up. “You came at a good time, you know! I was about to start making pancakes!”
“Great! Let’s get cooking!” He stands up and takes your hand in his, leading you to the kitchen. The two of you prepared the ingredients and utensils. You also grabbed two aprons, one for each of you, and gave one to him.
Frankie notices the words ’kiss the cook’ on your apron. “Nice apron,” he says as he bumps his hips against yours. You frown, checking your apron, “Hey! A friend of mine got this for me.”
“It’s cute.” He mumbles as he stirs the ingredients in the bowl. “You’re also cute.” He looks down, confused, and discovers that he, too, was wearing the same type of apron. Then, above his head, a lightbulb went off. He smirks as he dips his finger into the batter and smothers it on your cheek.
Slowly turning your head in shock, you dipped your fingers in the mix and lathered them on his face. “Oh, it’s on.” He dipped his hand into the mixture and grinned at you. You stood on the other side of the counter, anticipating his next move. Frankie walks slowly around the counter, with you mirroring his movements. When he suddenly quickens his pace and sprints to you.
The both of you reached the sofa, one by each end. You swiftly make your way to your bedroom and hid behind the door. Minutes past and Frankie haven’t come in the room. You peak out the door, nothing. Sneaking through the hallway, no sign of Frankie yet.
When you get to the kitchen, there’s still no sign of Frankie. All of a sudden, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place. “Ha! I’ve got you!“ He says this while smothering both of your cheeks with batter, one arm still holding you in place.
As Frankie gently pokes and pinches your battered cheeks, laughter fills the room. You slither your way around his arms and turn to face him. You froze, your face only a few inches away from his. His gaze fell to your lips, parting slightly. Slowly, the distance between you two narrowed, and your lips finally intertwined.
For a brief moment, your lips molded together, until you drew away from him. "We should clean up.” Frankie nodded as he watched you slither away from his arms and disappear into the hallway.
You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, noticing your sloppy figure and pancake mix-smothered face. “Oh god, it had to happen with me looking like this?” You sighed as you washed your face and tidied your hair, then went to your closet. You rummaged through it and found an oversized shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants for Frankie.
When you get to the living room where you found him, you hand him the clothes and tell him, “You’ve got some batter on your clothes, so—you can use my bathroom.” He took the clothes and nodded, then proceeded to the bathroom.
You decide to wait for him in your bedroom. You had to talk about that kiss; it had to mean something, you reasoned. Maybe it’s time to let it all out.
Frankie emerged from the bathroom, freshly dressed and clean. He notices you sitting on the bed and decides to join you. “So, about that kiss.”
“Y'know, I’ve been thinking about doing that since I walked in the door.”
“Really?” you blush, averting your gaze a little.
“To be honest, I came here to tell you how much I like you. I just can’t stand seeing you with other people. I want to be with you and treat you better than those idiots.”
“They weren’t that bad,” you chuckle.
“Oh, please! They were a fool to let you go. I’ve always thought that if anyone were to be with you, they would be the luckiest person in the world; god, you’re always taking care of people to the point where you don’t take care of yourself. You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Every touch you send relaxes me in so many ways. It’s upsetting to see them mistreat you and leave you.”
"Maybe you’re right about some of them, but sometimes it’s me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you while I was dating them, and I couldn’t bear the thought of them wasting their time on me, so I broke up with them. I’m not as great as you think I am, Frankie.” you take a pause “I dated them because I didn’t believe I stood a chance with you. I thought you were a great guy from the first time we met, comforting me—a complete stranger at the time—for no reason. And as I got to know you better, my feelings grew stronger. But there was never a good time for me to say it or act on it.”
"I get that. In fact, I did the same thing. Dated other people to distract myself from my feelings for you, but it never worked. It’s stupid of me to realize this now, but I’m not going to waste any more time.” He envelops your hands in his, “I’m not afraid to say that I adore you in every way. I want to be the reason to your gorgeous smile. I know I’m not the best person, but I promise I’ll treat you well.”
Your cheeks warmed up at his words, tears threatening to spill over the euphoric emotions you’re experiencing. Instead of saying anything, you let go of his hands and placed them on his face. "Can I kiss you?”
“I’d be a fool to say no.”
Your lips molded with his once more, and your hands moved to tangle themselves in his hair. His arms are wrapped around your waist, gently pushing you onto the bed.
Frankie pulls back, hovering above you. “I love you so much,” he says as he gives you a short kiss.
“I absolutely love you, too, Frankie Morales.”
“We talked and cuddled the rest of the night. Eventually we fell asleep, and the rest is history.”
Your memories began to flood back to you. Your feelings and actions have finally returned to your mind. When you look down at your hands, emotions take over and tears flow from your eyes. “I mean everything I said, Frankie. I know I forgot it before, but I now remember saying and doing everything, I promise, I truly do love you.”
“I know, baby.” He pulls you into his lap, hugging you close. “I’m neither angry nor sad that you forgot. I know you were speaking from the heart last night, and I don’t doubt you for a second; I love you.”
The two of you relaxed in each other’s warmth, wrapped together till the end of the night.
He found you attractive, and funny, so of course this lead him to flirting with you.
He didn’t really think anything would come from it, but he did it anyways, because he was just a flirty guy in general.
Ben found that he liked the way you’d get a bit flustered or blushy if he flirted with you, so in some ways it a bit of a joke to him at first.
He would call you a variety of nicknames, usually a random one in the moment, they were always changing.
Sweetheart or Love (when he wanted to make you blush), Robin (he was batman), Sherlock (when you did something intelligent that often saved the group).
Slowly, he started to notice the way your smile or laugh made his heart flutter. Or the way his eyes would seek you out to make sure you were close.
He seemed to always want to be around you, seeking you out so he could be nearby. He just loved being around you.
If you attended one of his fights, it made him work harder, as he found himself wanting to impress you.
When he got hurt, you would worry over him, and he loved it.
If you were ever put in a dangerous situation, he was protective before hand, but he started to notice that it got worse over time.
He never wanted you to go off alone, and if he lost contact with you for even a moment, he would start to panic.
It didn’t really click for him that he was developed honest-to-God feelings for you until William called him a “love-sick puppy”
Once he realized that he had fallen for you, and no longer just saw you as a good friend, he wasn’t really surprised, not upset in any way. He was just afraid that you would never feel the same.
When he confided in the boys about his feelings, they laughed at him because they already knew.
And once they reassured him that you certainly returned his feelings, he decided not to run from them.
Confessing + First Kiss:
Benny got into his own head about how to tell you how he felt.
He wanted to say it right, he wanted it to be a romantic confession, though he wasn’t sure how to do that.
You were the first person he felt genuine and strong feelings for. He didn’t just want this to be a casual relationship, he wanted it to be more, and to last a long time.
He thought maybe he should ask you on a date, or to go out for some coffee, breakfast, dinner maybe.
But one day, when you had been hanging out with the group, and you announced you were going home, he decided now was the moment.
So he offered to walk you home, as it was starting to get dark.
You smiled, and accepted the offer, silently relieved, as you never really liked walking the distance alone. Plus, you liked spending time with him.
The evening was nice and cool, but not cold.
The sky was a nice grey-blue, with a few clouds scattered along the sky.
You walked in silence for a while, before you came across an empty playground.
You smiled and made a comment about how you had spent a lot of time thee as a kid.
Ben, being the childish sort, ran over to the playground, calling out to you to come over.
Joining him at the swings, you sat beside each other. You swung slowly, as Ben swung high, the seat creaking with his adult weight.
You smiled softly to yourself as you looked around the desolate playground, not noticing that Ben had almost come to a stop in his swing. Hearing him clear his throat you looked over, only to find him staring at you.
“What is it?” You sat up a bit, startled by the sudden change in his demeanor.
“Oh, nothing bad, I just-” He hesitated as he scratched his neck. “I’ve just bee hoping to get you alone for a while now.”
“Oh? Why?” You asked softly, hoping your nervousness wasn’t obvious in your voice.
He kept looked between his feet, to you as he seemed to be struggling to find his words.
“Ben?” You asked softly.
His eyes met yours and you saw him let out a soft breath. It seemed to happen in the blink of an eye before he was leaning out of his swing, the chain twisted so he was facing you. His hand was cupping your cheek, and his lips were against yours.
You froze for a second as you processed what was happening. Then, closing your eye, you let yourself sink into the kiss. A moment later, he pulled away. Your eyes slowly opened as you met his eyes. He was smiling softly, but he could see your gaze was curious.
“Sorry. Uh-I- I was gonna ask you on a date, or something, so I could tell you how I felt. But, seeing you this close, I couldn’t help myself. But I, really like you Y/n, more than I thought I could see, well, anyone really.”
A smile crossed your face, and his own widened a bit.
“I’m hoping that smile doesn’t mean you’re appalled or anything.”
A soft chuckle escaped as you shook your head. “Of course not Ben. I feel the same.”
He nodded his head and smiled. “Good.” You saw his eyes drift to your lips before he spoke again. “Then, you wouldn’t mind, if I did it again?”
You let out a soft giggle and shook our head. “No, I wouldn’t mind at all.”
Pairing:TF Boys x F!Reader Wordcount:14K Warnings: gore. alcohol/drug abuse. kidnapping. eventual reverse harem. self-medication. smut. semi-public sex. torture. brief hint of non-con in a dream. hair pulling. Summary:Pope calls a meeting. A/N: i struggled SO hard with this chapter. it was like pulling teeth. i fear that it is utterly boring, but at some point i had to punt it into the great unknown. my millions of thank yous to @frannyzooeyand@krissology who continue to motivate and inspire me with ideas and words and love. i hope you all enjoy.
It didn’t start right after the club - after Will punched Ben so hard that his cheekbone swelled to the size of a plum. That night had gone from liberating to disastrous as soon as they’d opened the front door.
It had been an onslaught of emotions, and she could barely remember what the argument had even been about in the first place.
Ben could have gotten you killed. You’re in danger. This is why we don’t have women in the house.
Pope had been a total fucking dick, but Frankie had reallypissed her off. He’d just stood in the corner - slinking into the shadows as he watched Will and Pope chastise her. He had no right. He wasn’t allowed to “care” about her safety when he had literally ignored her the last few weeks. She also despised that she still had briefly wondered about his date. Was she in his bed? In his room? Had he fucked her?
All of those thoughts drunkenly rolled around her skull as she watched Ben defend their actions. She balanced on her heels - skin sweating under Will and Pope’s disapproving glares. The liquor and greasy food bloated her stomach. There was a startling sticky ache between her legs from riding Ben in public for anyone to see. Despite her pride and all that she said, she still felt a tug of guilt at what they had done. She didn’t owe them anything and yet -
It didn’t matter. It was done.
The commotion of it all had not only overwhelmed her but sobered her up.
Will’s anger had shocked her. She’d never seen him furious. Even in the basement, he had doled out pain with an impassive, untouchable expression. He spoke softly and slowly without a drop of emotion. After George’s, he had been irate. It had hurt. It had bothered her. The disappointment in his glare had the same consistency of oil sticking to her limbs - her bones and lungs.
“I don’t fuck around when it comes to your safety.”
Those words had ripped through her - circulating with the same wild intensity of a tornado. She followed Ben up the stairs, flinching when she heard Will slam his door shut.
“Fuck,” Ben had muttered under his breath. “He’s throwing a hissy fit.”
Was he? Maybe - he just cared about her? How sweet it was to be cared for in any capacity. Her mother certainly hadn’t - not even when she was a little girl. She could have run away from home for three days, and her mother would still have greeted her with: Oh - you’ve been out all this time?
She’d yelled at Pope, which had been somewhat exciting. He pissed her off with those great big dark eyes and that permanent scowl that curled his lips. He’d tried to crush her damn high. She didn’t connect with him like she did with Will or even Frankie. Pope simply existed as her keeper. He was the man who was pulling the strings through this whole nightmare, and it wasn’t as if he’d ever attempted to get to know her.
She’d helped Ben to bed, and when he’d tried to drag her beneath the covers, she’d stopped him. She wasn’t sure why. She just felt too off-kilter. She just needed to be alone and get her head on straight and sober up because whatever had happened in the living room had been messy, and she could barely keep up with who was pissed at who.
She also wanted to pout dramaticallyin the comfort of her room where none of them could judge her. She was out the second her head hit the pillow, slipping into a restless sleep as the sequins on her dress pricked her skin.
She was awoken by the warm wet pressure of lips at the nape of her neck. The smell of soap and damp skin. Mid-afternoon light filtered through her drapes and flooded her white linen duvet in buttery orange.
“They’re out,” A low voice rumbled at her back. Benny. She arched into him, and he wrapped his fingers around her throat - wrenching her against his chest. “I woke up so fucking hard for you,” he murmured as he tugged her earlobe between his teeth. His fingers trailed down her thigh toward the heat between her legs.
She was still covered in glitter from the club. Her lashes were sticky and clumped as spider legs. Her hangover beat dimly within the shell of her skull. Everything spun out as all of her senses narrowed to what Benny was doing to her. “I’m gross right now.”
“You’re fucking hot,” he growled as he nosed at her jaw. “and I’ve waited allday to get back inside that pussy.”
“Jesus.”
“Tell me yes.” He was digging his fingers into her hips so harshly that she shuddered. He was pushing against her - gluing his hard body to her back. There was a wantin his touch. Ben had seduced her last night. Ben had taken her out. Ben had freed her from the penthouse and treated her like she was something special. He’d ignored every girl who’d walked up to him.
“Okay.”
***
They keep it quiet. They don’t make it obvious that they are fucking on every surface available. It’s an unsaid thing - an understanding. She doesn’t want to deal with questions or judgment, and Ben just seems to go with it.
It was pleasure in its most blunt form. Ben fucked her so well that she could barely think straight, and perhaps that was the point. She didn’t want to think. She had spent the last few years - slowly rotting in her father’s house. She walked on eggshells - terrified that one wrong move would send her mother into some aggressive state. She kept to herself and burrowed in her head. Loneliness marked her. She’d been genuinely isolated, and the people she did fuck had been only a night-worth of reprieve. She’d had one boyfriend in college, but that had blown up as quickly as it began.
She’d used caring for her mother as an excuse. She was lonely and bored, and she had filled up those days by getting drunk or staring at a television. At the penthouse, getting screwed daily kept her fairly busy.
It was constant.They were running through condoms. Ben just kept several on his person at all times. She wanted to get on birth control, but a large part of her was nervous that if she did, the sex would stop. She’d jinx it somehow. It didn’t make sense. Nothing in her life made sense, but the fucking was like a drug - burned just as good as alcohol.
The first time Benny had taken her outside her bedroom had been in the kitchen.
She was pouring chopped herbs into softened butter. She mixed and minced and grated. She was going to make roast chicken with truffle mashed potatoes and garlicky spinach.
She felt him before he spoke. His chest flushed against the crown of her head. He was hard - his erection resting against the small of her back - his hands clasping her hips. He nosed at her neck - his lips brushing her bare shoulder.
“Ben,” she warned.
“What are you making?” he asked as he tugged her away from the counter. His voice was perfectly normal. He gingerly drew her over to the island - his long arm sweeping the rest of her ingredients to the side. “Tell me,” he urged.
“Roast chicken,” She felt the pressure of his hand at the middle of her spine. He pushed down, and she went- bending over so that her front was sealed to the butcher block. Her hands planted. The side of her cheek lay flat next to the rosemary twigs, sage, and garlic. He flipped her dress up and drew her panties down - just enough that they banded around her knees.
“That sounds good,” he hummed just as he sunk into her. She gasped - breath hitching as he filled her in one, bruising stroke. “Did you wear this dress for me?”
She shook her head - biting into her lower lip. He made a frustrated sound before cracking his hand across her ass. The sound was muted beneath the music coming from the Ipad in the corner. Gin Blossoms. The edge of the island cut into her stomach. “I think you did,” he taunted as he began to thrust into her slick heat. There was the slap of skin. The muffled broken noises that he forced from her mouth with each drag of his cock. She was practically on her toes. He was spearing inside her - stretching her open. The pressure. The ache of it spread through her lower half. “I think you wore it because it’ll make it so much easier for us. I can just lift this dress up and fuck you standing.”
She bit into her bottom lip until she felt the iron burst of blood. He was changing up his pattern - fucking her hard in rapid, short strokes before drawing back far enough so he could press into her in one slow, inexorable thrust. She grunted when he covered her body with his. He was burying her with the weight of him. His fingers were between her legs as he plucked her clit with each snap of his hips.
She arched - pressing her ass back against his hips. His name flooded her mouth. She cried it as her knuckles accidentally knocked the potatoes from the island - the jug of heavy whipping cream - the jewel-green chives.
They did more than just fuck. They watched movies - trading off on who got to pick what. Ben had a habit of choosing old nineties action flicks, while her tastes drifted from period romances to violent slashers.
“I want to watch Scream,” she huffed.
“We can’t keep watching Scream!” His eyes narrowed. “That’s the third time in the last month.”
She stuck her lip out, and his jaw ticked - his gaze trailing over the stretch of her neck and chest and bare legs. “Fine,” he agreed. “But this is it. No more.”
She’d smirked, knocking him flat with one of those dubious expressions like she knew this certainly wouldn’tbe the last time.
And it never was.
***
They were just down the hall. Frankie and Santi. Will is in the basement. She was watching television - another rerun of Top Chef.
She felt Ben at her back almost immediately - able to catch the subtle whiff of his cologne. He braced his broad hands on the top of the couch as he looked over her head at the television screen.
He was silent for a few minutes. The clatter of knives and chef’s yelling and dramatic music filling the space between them. All of a sudden, he gently tugged on her hair until her head fell back. He leaned down to press his lips to hers. There was the seep of his tongue - his palm hot on her cheek.
It was a flurry of movements. Ben somehow ended up on top of her. He opened her thighs with the flat of his palms, rocking against her damp crotch. All he had to do was shove his pants down and hitch her panties to the side, and then he’d be balls deep. Her eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat.
“They’ll come back,” she protested against his mouth. “They’ll see.” He couldn’t stop kissing her. Not even when he wanted to, and sometimes that scared her just as it unnerved him. I like you too much. It’s weird.
“Maybe,” he shrugged before he sunk to the hilt. She choked - gasped- revealed how fucking easy she was for him.
He rucked the top of her dress down so that her tits popped out and swirled his tongue around the nub of her nipple. She moaned despite herself. She loved the patchwork of sensations. Her bare nipple damp from his warm mouth. The harsh rasp of his pants across her inner thighs. The cool air conditioning. The weight of Ben’s too-big body as he attempted to fit on the narrow couch. The fear that they couldget caught.
“I’ll be fast, baby,” He ground into her - pinned her until she couldn’t jerk a muscle. There was no space between them as her knees clamped around his hips - her heels knocking against the backs of his thighs with each harsh rut. She tangled her fingers in his hair - trying to fuck stealthily in the great wide open of the boy’s den. She could hear herself - hear the slick sound of her cunt taking him all the way over and over again. The couch creaked. She panted against his tongue. “C’mon…c’mon….c’mon….” he commanded as his fingers circled her clit - his cock impaling her and her bare ass scraping the couch. There was heat in her veins. She throbbed and whimpered - shivering from the orgasm that screamed through the meat of her.
“Jesus Ben,” she rasped and he licked into the cup of her mouth.
She held onto his biceps - clung to him desperately as the place between her legs began to go to liquid. The whole room spun, and her head tipped back as Ben bit into her throat. For a moment - she wondered if he’d open up her vein - if blood would bloom to the surface.
The thought of blood and sex inevitably brought Will to her mind. She was already climaxing by the time she realized that he could come upstairs and find them. It would hurthim. To see her not only refuse him but to take his brother instead. She had to speak with him. The night of St. George’s had left a crevice between them in its wake. Will had avoided her, and she couldn’t stand it. She had to make amends.
“Fuck, baby,” Ben growled as the couch squeaked under their weight.
She felt Ben’s teeth sink into her shoulder. Her underwear cut into the flesh of her hips as he jerked - whole body trembling above her. She threaded her fingers through his hair and fisted it - yanking it back hard enough to make him groan.
“I missed you,” he rumbled - kissing the skin beneath her ear lightly. “Fuck - I missedyou.”
His voice was heavy with want- a sort of aggression she hadn’t heard from him before. Thoughts of Will flew from her mind as she focused on Benny - as she felt his muscles tense underneath her hands.
His dark blonde hair was in his eyes and she combed it with her fingers. “I saw you this morning.”
He drew back - bracing himself above her. “I know.”
She stared up at him, and he met it. His mouth was flushed and swollen. “You have a problem,” she teased, her tone soft.
“I have you.”
***
She’d resorted to asking Will via text about training her. Confrontation gave her hives and, quite frankly, she wouldn’t be able to handle him refusing her face to face.
Hi. It’s me. Was wondering if you’re still down about self-defense lessons?
Who is this?
Wow.
Haha. Sure. No problem.
After she’d painstakingly tried to analyze his tone, she figured that he was being cordial. Did “haha” mean everything was okay? Did the “sure” and the “no problem” combined mean he was looking forward to it?
Will was already waiting for her when she stepped into the gym. His expression was closed off, his lips settling into that indifferent mask he maintained when he was outside his home. Fuck. She walked towards him, past the state of the art equipment, enormous television screens, and vast windows that revealed the heart of downtown.
“You’re still angry at me,” she stated plainly.
The corner of his mouth curled. He cocked his head - lifting a single eyebrow as he regarded her with…nothing. He wasn’t being cold but rather impassive. She shifted her weight - crossing her arms defensively over her chest. God - he was gonna make her grovel.
“I-I didn’t meanfor that night to happen the way it did!.”
“I know,” he replied - dragging his thumb over his beard.
“Okay…” She stepped up to him. “So, are we good?”
He shrugged, but there was a glimmer of amusement behind his eyes. He was enjoyingthis.
“Oh - you dick,” she hissed - punching him hard in the arm. His hand shot out and caught her wrist - pulling her forward so fast that she stumbled against him.
“Lesson one,” Will said. “You do stupid shit? You get killed and probably horribly.”
“Obviously.“
He tilted his head - a knowing smirk twisting his pretty mouth. “Going to George’s? That’s stupid shit right there.”
She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t know! I literally just go where you fuckers tell me.”
His smirk deepened, and he released her. “Well - now you know.”
She poked him in the chest and the muscle tensed under her fingertip. Fuck. “You’re being unfair about this. It’s not my fucking fault that Ben took me out, and, honestly, what was I supposed to say? No? He was just being nice, and…” she trailed off when she realized his expression had softened.
Those stupid blues eyes mellowed to the color to something clear and crisp as April sky. “I wasn’t mad at you,” he explained. “I just wanted to fuck with you a little because you get so heated about it.”
“Oh,” she murmured. “Funny.”
She stepped away from him - her gaze drifting subtly over his body. His blonde hair was slicked back, and he was clad in sweats and a tight black t-shirt. His cheeks were flushed, which made him only more alluring. Fucker.
She tugged her sweatshirt off and tossed it onto the bench. Her sports bra and top were clinging to her frame, and Will averted his eyes. Ha! “So what are we doing? How to throw a punch? How to kill a man with only your thighs and a rubber band?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “First - we have to build your strength up. You need a strong core in self-defense.”
“Sounds dull.”
“You’re not getting anywhere with noodle arms.”
She scoffed. “Not all of us can have biceps the size of rotisserie chickens.”
Will glanced down at his arms, which he then flexedon purpose. “I wouldn’t say rotisserie chickens.” He simpered. “Not big enough.”
She lunged forward, pinching the back of his arm viciously enough for him to yelp. “Fuck, Faire!” He staggered backward - clutching at the reddening patch of flesh. “You’re so mean.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
His eyes narrowed, and she suddenly regretted needling him. “Treadmill,” he ordered in a low voice.
“Why?” she scowled. She hadn’t been on a treadmill in ages. Not since she’d fucked around with a gym membership one sad January a year ago.
It’s all about recharge! Get yourself into the best shape of your life. Make the new year count.
“Warm-up,” He threw his arm around the top of it like it was a pet. “You can power walk. It’ll just get your blood going. Loosen you up a little.”
“I am loose.”
“You’renot,” he grinned. “You’re wound pretty fucking tight.”
“Because I am in a constant state of fight or flight.”
He winced. “Shit - I know. I’m sorry -”
“I’m kidding. I’m fine.”
“You’re annoying,” he frowned.
She glared at the treadmill as if avoiding it might make Will forget its existence. Perhaps, she could talk her way out of it.
“I’m not strong,” she whined. “Can’t I have a weapon? A nice hammer?”
“It’d be used against you.”
“Chainsaw?”
“Could you lift one?”
“They make mini chainsaws.”
He turned to stare at her, planting his feet. His t-shirt stretched across his broad chest. “Look - I want you to be able to protect yourself. You’re running around with us. Shit could happen, and I guarantee that you won’t be strutting around with a hammer or a chainsaw -”
“A gun!” she chirped.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not. You’d shoot one of yourself or one of us.”
She bit her lower lip, and the corner of his mouth twitched. He leveled her with a stern glare, and she returned it. “You’re the one who asked me to help you out,” He cracked his knuckles. “I can leave? I’ve got other shit to do.”
“Ugh,” she relented. “Fine! I’m just…really out of shape.”
“Then I’ll make you in shape. Now, get up there,” Will commanded.
She ground her teeth before huffing and climbing onto the ramp. He turned the speed up to a three. An easy power walk. After a minute, the backs of her thighs twinged. She pulled a face. Her muscles were tender, and most of it was from Ben bending her in too many positions. She was sore between her legs - soft and raw like he had managed to carve into her permanently with each shove of his cock. Not like she could complain to Will about that. Not like she’d wantto.
“You’ll have to stretch more,” he noted.
“I hate stretching.”
“Why?”
“It’s dull. It’s why I hated yoga. Too slow.” She paused before looking at him. “Fuck - I am being a huge brat.”
“Yep.”
“Sorry.”
“Talk less. Walk more.”
It wasn’t the easiest thing: attempting to walk with Will staring at her with that casual smile on his face.
“So, did you know him?” Her words were jumbled - breath quickening as Will turned up the speed.
He raised an eyebrow. “Know who?”
“Baron.”
“We were the same age. Went to school together, actually. I was pre-med at Harvard and then went to John Hopkins.”
“Wait,” she said. “You’re a doctor?”
“I didn’t actually finish - it’s why I’m good at what I do. I know how to keep people alive while also bringing them to the edge of death. It’s an art.”
“Why didn’t you finish?”
He shrugged. “Learned what I needed to learn. Santi wanted me back.”
“Is everything you do for Santi?”
His gaze darkened, and she felt like she’d spoken out of turn. She didn’t know their relationship. Not entirely. She saw pieces of it. She knew Frankie and Ben had their connection. Will and Ben were related. Santi and Frankie went deep. Who was Will closest to? She honestly couldn’t tell, and a very tiny part of her was upset at the thought that he was alone more often than not.
“I just - I just meant do you do anything for yourself? For your own benefit?” He said nothing, but his eyes raked down her body - blatant and weighted with something. Longing? Hunger? She was jogging now - her breasts bouncing in her sports bra. There was sweat collecting at her hairline. She suddenly felt naked under his lingering stare. Will alwaysmade her feel as if she was stretched out on glass for him. An exhibit. She was fucking his god damn brother, and still,he made her doubt all of the values she thought she held dear. She had seen him make men sob and beg. You’re in bed with cold-blooded killers. You’re already gone.
Will’s jaw tightened, and his nostrils flared and -
“Let’s do weights,” he announced as he shut the treadmill off. He started walking to the far side of the room, and she followed.
***
Ben’s room was darker than she expected. A lot of deep greens. A amber square with recessed lighting stood from floor to ceiling and centered the space. On the gray slate walls hung framed movie posters done in a cartoon style. Blocks of bright colors. One of his guns was lying casually on his oak bureau.
The sun pulsed outside his window. It bled over them as they lay tangled in Ben’s sheets. There were dust motes in the air - the warm glow of Indian Summer comforting and lovely. It was strange - like a dream. Ben’s eyes roved over her face - his hand on her cheek. She stared right back. Everything pulsed. There was no tension - only softness - only the sweetness of what they’d been doing. He trailed his fingers over her chest - circling a nipple. She shivered.
“I hope you cleaned these sheets,” she teased.
“Babe,” He cocked an eyebrow - his tone offended. “You’re the only person who’s been in this bed for a month….” His words fizzled out, a frown curling his mouth like he suddenly had to think about it. “At the least,” he added.
“Month, huh? Pretty sure you had chicks over a couple weeks ago.”
“Yeah - but we used the kitchen table.”
“Ohgross.”
He laughed and sprung for her - wrapping his arms firmly around her waist. She grunted, shoving up against him, and he wrestled her under him. He pinned her with both of his arms braced on either side of her head. He wedged himself between her thighs and slowly rocked his hips forward so that she could feel the length of him against her. “You make me so hard,” He dropped his head to suck a mark into her neck. Her breathing hitched. “You drive me insane, woman.”
She gripped his chin - drawing his mouth down to her own for a rough kiss. He used his legs to spread her thighs apart further, and she mewled against his tongue. She placed her palms on his chest - his heartbeat fluttering and fast as a bird’s. He rubbed his cock through the seam of her folds before lifting himself up. He dropped his head to stare down between them and watch himself fuck her.
It was strangely intimate of him. He liked to study the way her body absorbed his cock - the slow drag backward and drive forward. The wetness she painted him in.
“Wait,” she murmured, and he stopped - hovering right at her entrance. He grit his teeth and lowered his head - knocking his nose against hers. “What is it?”
“I want to know about you.”
“You know a lot about me,” he grinned as he slowly pushed the tip of himself into her. She jerked, and he slid deeper. “Shit,” she panted before slapping his shoulder. “No - no, I want - I want something else.”
He frowned. He couldn’t quite remember what their conversation had been twenty minutes ago. She’d stepped into his room, and he had lost his head. The smell of her. The taste of her skin and how soft she was. He’d wanted to rub her all over his sheets until the bedroom stank of her. He’d divested her of her clothes, and here they were. His mind seemed to live permanently in his dick whenever she was around.
“Alright,” he said, and he eased himself out of her. She winced, and he wondered if he’d been too rough last time. They were fucking like crazy - multiple times a day and in all sorts of positions. They had started to get messy - sloppy - not as covert. He honestly didn’t care who saw them, but she did, and he’d respect that. He snuck a glance at the patio outside his room. He should really shut those blinds, in case Frankie decided to go mope outside instead of brooding around the penthouse -
-or fucking everything that walked.
He brushed his thumb over her lip. “What would you like to know, princess?” He rolled beside her - resting his head in his palm. He caressed her stomach - drawing a pattern - his signature - anything as he waited for her to speak. She turned toward him.
“Tell me the story,” she implored. Her hand went to his spine - lightly drifting over the distorted, gnarled skin. “Tell me about your back.”
Benny - usually- would have shut down. He would have pushed her away. He would have told her to fuck off and probably do something self-destructive like fuck a girl who wouldn’t try to understandhim. He didn’t like talking about it, and it wasn’t as if he owed her anything.
But when he lookedat her, he felt something twinge in his chest.
She stared at him meaningfully - her big eyes glittering under afternoon light. It sucked that she was so lovely to him. He’d, of course, had plenty of gorgeous women. Too many to count. But - there was something about her that spoke to him. It echoed in his lungs and throat and made him catch his breath. The last week with her had sent him through a tailspin. He craved her. He demanded her.
If she wanted this from him, he’d give it.
“Five years ago,” he began before scraping a hand across his face. His muscles felt oddly tight. He exhaled sharply and then continued. “Five years ago - Frankie and I did this job for Santi that involved burning down several of the Reaper’s meth labs.”
She furrowed her brow. “Reapers? I’ve heard of them but don’t know what they do.”
“The Reapers own territory outside of Ashford - they’re barely ever an issue, but they’d pissed Santi off because they’d killed one of his guys during a bar fight. Santi was furious and had us punish them by removing some of their main sources of income.”
“Meth labs?”
“I mean, they probably produced a ton of different shit, but I wasn’t exactly paying close attention. Just lighter fluid and a couple matches and boom,” he threw his hands apart to emphasize his point.
“Okay,” she replied as she scooted closer to him. They were skin to skin. He could smellher - the floral, smokey burst of her perfume. Her shampoo. Her sweat. He felt like he was shouting. His gaze ran up her bare shoulders before cutting across the swell of her tit. Benny forgot what he was even talking about.
She nudged him.
“Right,” he muttered as he tried to recount all the terrible moments that had happened that night. One bad thing after the next. The fact that Santi had asked Frankie and Benny last minute to do the job. The lack of planning. The amount of alcohol Frankie had had that Benny had ignored. In truth - Benny had always trusted Frankie to be fine. He had watched him mow down a group of four men with his bare hands while loaded.
“When Santi had called, neither of us had really been prepared. It was late at night. Frankie had been drinking. I don’t think I was all that sober myself.”
“Why didn’t you just tell him no? Or get someone else to do it?”
Benny shrugged. “We thought we were invincible. We were these two guys who’d kill more men than we could count, and we had never been beaten. We also never told Santi no. In retrospect, we should have, but it didn’t occur to either of us. It was just like, “ok, boss gave us orders, let’s do this quick so we can get back and party more.””
She hummed, tracing the branches of the tree tattooed across his forearm. She tapped her fingertip against the center of it. “So what happened after you blew up the labs?”
He offered her a tight smile. “Frankie was driving. He was really fucked up, and I don’t think I paid any attention to just how fucked up he was. He crashed and flipped the car and -”
Benny paused as the memories from the wreck blew through him: the shattered glass that caught in his hands and cheek, the smell of gasoline, the force of the hit. His head had felt so swollen. It felt like he was underwater and couldn’t drag himself out. She stopped tracing his tattoo and folded her fingers through his. She squeezed his hand, and it felt weird. It felt like she’d kissed him.
“I was out cold. Frankie was relatively fine except for a few cuts and bruises.” He swallowed thickly - his mouth suddenly very dry. He knew that the next few moments were really what had made Frankie hate himself. They had made Will punch him in the face - nearly beat the shit out of him. Santi had been a whole different matter - both guilty and stunned that Frankie could fuck up that badly. Ben still didn’t think it was Frankie’s fault. They’d both made those decisions, and they both suffered for it.
“Frankie left,” he recalled, and the girl tightened her grip on him. “He was so drunk and high and probably dizzy as shit from the crash that he must have forgotten I was with him. I think he made it a mile down the road before the cops ran into him. We have those cars that call emergency services if a crash occurs, so they were already on their way.”
He glanced up to find her face close to his, her expression deeply concerned. “Is that how you fucked up your back?”
Benny chuckled - combing a hand through his hair as he shifted on the mattress. ”No,” he said. “It turns out that some Reapers followed us.” Those images were now cluttered and burned at the edges. He could remember sensations, but his brain had long since blocked out the pain he’d been in. “They pulled me out of the wreck and took me back to their place. I was already pretty fucked from the wreck, but they wanted me to suffer. They hung me up and cut into me for a week.” The girl inhaled but said nothing. Her eyes were glistening. She wedged her leg through his and tugged him closer. He allowed it - slightly grateful. “They essentially flayed me alive until the guys managed to get to me. I blacked out for most of it.”
That wasn’t entirely true. He had tiny flashes of the hours that he spent in that basement. His wrists were shredded from the rope. His raw flesh burned with agony. The stickiness of his blood. The smell of iron. He’d wanted to die by the halfway point. He still had nightmares about it though they weren’t as frequent as they’d once been. He’d gotten an infection from the dirty tools. By the time he’d been found, he’d been delirious with fever. He’d been ripped apart, and the Ben who came out was not the Ben who went in.
“What did Santi do?” she asked as she pressed her face into his shoulder. Her warm breath skated over his skin. He wanted to kiss her as if it would somehow dim those gore-streaked memories.
“He crippled them business-wise,” He wrapped his arms around her waist - hauling her flush to his torso. His cock was hard between them. Fucked up, but it’s not like he could stay soft when he has a gorgeous naked girl on top of him. “He said they’d form a truce, but once he saw what they did to me…he took it back. Claimed that the Reapers had lied by saying that I’d been treated well. I’m not sure if they did lie, but they probably stepped around the truth, and Santi used it.” He sighed. “That’s why they’ve been run off the map. They’re stuck on the outskirts mostly.”
“What happened to the ones who hurt you?” He could feel her lips dragging over his throat as she dug her fingers into his ribs. He liked it. “The ones who personally tortured you?”
“Will took care of them,” he answered. Ben had never seen his brother like that. He’d genuinely enjoyedpulling those men apart - breaking them spectacularly until they were mounds of flesh and organs. He’d stepped back into the penthouse - coated in a thick film of blood - his eyes black and almost manic. His blonde hair tinged pink.
They’re gone, Ben.
She cleared her throat as she rubbed her cheek against his chest. He cradled the back of her head. “That’s good.”
“It wasn’t Frankie’s fault,” Ben added quickly. “It really wasn’t.”
She drew back from him and touched his jaw. “I didn’t say it was.”
He felt as if he had to defend him. Frankie was a good person but just lost. His head was screwed on differently. “Not to bring Frankie between us, but that whole event is why he is the way he is now. He thinks he doesn’t deserve affection or friends or family, and I’m sure Fish believes that he doesn’t deserve you. He lost control and fucked you and is now crying about it.”
“He’s not crying about it.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s looked pretty okayto me.”
“Fair,” he said. “But you also don’t know him like I do. He’s upset. He’s just very, very bad at showing it.”
“We’re not talking about Frankie.”
“Fine.”
Both of them went silent. Ben watched her, analyzing her reaction to all that he’d said. She’d handled that story shockingly well. It’s not like she’d made a big deal over it. She didn’t sob or curl into herself. She didn’t throw her arms around him in pity. She was assessing- those sharp features of hers studying him as he told her about the worst fucking moment of his life.
“Do they hurt?” she finally asked - tracing one of the scars that curled over his shoulder.
“Sometimes,” He adjusted himself on the bed - the sheets scratching at his back. “I get these weird ghost pains. I hate it…makes me remember what happened.”
“What about therapy?”
“Like physical? Think I’m finein that department?”
She scowled and tapped him lightly on the temple. “Mental.”
“Nah,” he said. “It would only become a danger to whichever therapist tried to help us out.”
“Tony Soprano did it.”
“That’s a tv show, babe. This -” He spread his arms - outstretched towards the ceiling. “This is real. People die all the time just for knowing something they shouldn’t.”
She squinted at him. Skeptical. “I think that you should thinkabout doing it. There’s nothing wrong with working through the hurts you’ve been dealt.”
He tilted his head. “Do you?”
“I’m not part of a crime syndicate.”
“You are, technically.”
“My dad being a crime boss doesn’t count.”
He laughed before he gripped her - yanking her toward him. She yelped, and he pinned her to the bed. “No more talking,” he ordered. He placed his arms on either side of her head as he once again shifted between her legs. “Open up, baby,” he demanded, and she did - her knees spreading. He dropped his head and kissed her jaw before sucking her lower lip between his teeth. She mewled - wiggling against him. “You could be part of this crime syndicate,” He lifted his eyebrows suggestively, and her mouth parted in surprise. He rocked against her - clutching her wrists and fastening them to the edge of his mattress. The light was flooding her hair - her skin - gilding the bridge of her nose and brow. He drew his hips back.
“I-”
The rest of her sentence died on her tongue as he sunk into her. He could feel her pussy stretch and flutter around him. Her body was searing and feverish - her lashes dipping as she tipped her head back. She lifted her hips to meet his thrusts - each punch of his cock forced a sweet, desperate noise from her throat. Her pretty tits bounced.
He planted his knees and pressed her to the edge of the bed. “Ben,” she moaned, and it sent sparks through him. The aches in him dissipated as every nerve in his body centered around where he was plunging into her.
He grit his teeth as he picked up his pace. Punishing. Rough. Frantic. He wanted to live inside her. The sun blinded him through his French doors - smearing heat across his scalp. He should have closed those blinds. He should have -
He glanced up and saw Frankie staring at him - open-mouthed.
“Fuck,” Ben muttered, but she didn’t hear him. She was gone- arching and bending - her head tossed back in pleasure. Her eyes firmly screwed shut. He didn’t stop. He wasn’t going to. Frankie’s expression bled from shocked into furious, and then he disappeared.
“Come for me, baby,” Ben pleaded as he fucked her. “Come for me.”
***
Santi dragged a palm across his face. He was exhausted. Frankie sat in the chair across from him - his mouth curled downward into a tight frown. He’d been in a dark place, and it unsettled Santi. He didn’t know how to reach him, and he certainly didn’t know how and why Charles’s daughter had managed to pierce him so profoundly. It was bewildering.
He’d been in a foul mood the last two days. He’d barely seen him. It wasn’t until Ben had informed him that Frankie was “nose-deep in pussy at the Casino again” that he had even known where he was.
“Stop sulking,” Santi ordered.
“I’m not sulking,” he snapped far too defensively.
“Did something newhappen that I’m not aware of?”
Frankie’s jaw flexed, and Santi thought that he might finally confess - he was going to give up whatever had been bothering him the last few weeks. They were closer than brothers. They had shared secrets and all the fucked-up desires they’d had. Goals. Fears. Dreams. But - Frankie was also good at hiding the parts of himself that he thought were weak - that he thought no one should hear because they were his burdens to bear. He never told Santi what he had done during those lost years where he’d trekked the globe. He’d come home, and that had been enough.
“Francisco…” he implored. There was the hitch of a plea in his voice that he hadn’t meant to have. He realized it was the wrong move.
Frankie’s gaze swept over him, and as quickly as that troubled expression appeared, it left. He closed up - his face shutting down to something cold and unbreachable. “What’d you need me for?”
Santi sighed. “Baron.”
“Do you think he’ll retaliate?” Frankie asked as he crossed his arms over his chest. Shadows burned across his features. He seemed too big for the chair.
“He already has.”
Frankie’s head snapped up - attention finally captured. “What do you mean?”
Santi tossed him his phone. Frankie caught it - turning it around to glance down at the screen. His brow furrowed, and he bared his teeth. “What the fuck is that?”
“They put a dead snake in her bed.”
Frankie’s eyes widened. “What? Is she okay?”
“Luckily - the maid found it. She wasn’t there, but Will said she nearly fainted when he showed her. Apparently - she’s deathly afraid of snakes.”
“Fucking hell,” Frankie cursed under his breath - he lifted his hand and massaged the creases in his forehead. He looked young. He looked just as he did when Frankie had to march into Eduardo Garcia’s office and ask for contrition after he’d killed someone he shouldn’t have.
“Morales - you’re a fucking idiot. You fucked this deal because of your damn hot head. I don’t know why we even keep you around?”
Santi wanted to get mad at him. He wanted to scream at him for acting on his own impulses. His feelings. Frankie was too passionate. He was like Will in that people feared him. His height and his breadth, and his talent at killing. You didn’t know you were dead until he’d appear in front of you and feel the sharp burn of a blade under your chin. But - Willwas also logical. He was clean and shrewd and careful. Frankie shouldn’t have killed those men. His affection for the girl had clouded his judgment.
“How did someone get in?”
“I don’t know,” Santi chewed the inside of his mouth. Everything was in disarray. He felt like he was losing when he didn’t even know the rules at play. How did this one girl throw his entire life into chaos? “He has someone on the inside? He snuck someone in?” If Baron could hire ghosts to slip between walls, Santi wouldn’t put it past him. “It doesn’t make fucking sense,” he continued. “I’m done hanging back and waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“So we go after Baron?”
“No,” Santi said, and Frankie’s eyes narrowed. “We can’t fucking do this yourway, man. We have to talk to him. We have to try and solve this without spilling more blood. It’s ridiculous.”
“Since when does Mateo listen?” Frankie growled. There was heat now - a throbbing sort of anger that was gleaming under his skin. Christ- he really did hate him.
Santi’s feelings toward his brother were not drenched in that same resentment. Their relationship was broken, of course. Definitely irreparable. But, he still had goodmemories of him. He still recalled how they’d been close as children. They’d always had the best time screwing around at Church. They’d been forced to sit through mass in their starchy shirts and tight jackets. The watered-down wine and flat white wafers. The spiced tang of incense and the harsh wood pews under their bony kid asses. They’d nearly die of boredom, and the two of them would whisper stories to each other - each one more ridiculous than the next.
An alien comes down and shoots up the place.
Aliens don’t have guns.
What do they have then?
Blasters.
That’s the same thing, idiot.
Fine - what do they do when they’re down here?
Kill Father Reynolds!
Ugh, then we could leave.
They’d whisper and giggle until their father would challenge them one of those sternglares, and grandmother would knock them upside the head. It’d be worth it. Santi didn’t think it would turn out like this. It hadn’t been his fault that his brother had been branded as the second son. His brother’s success had been entirely reliant on Santi’s failure. Despite the shit that had exploded between them, he had to admit that Mateo had ignored the fate his father wanted for him and prospered on his own. He’d done what he had to do to get what he wanted, and that brutal, singular motivation was what made him an adversary worth being nervous about.
Santi had seen the kind of violent coldness he was capable of. He’d seen it and knewthat he couldn’t let Mateo take a seat at his table. He couldn’t collar his brother even if he wanted to.
“He will,” Santi said. “I’ll have him here. Our territory. He can talk to Faire and see that she has no interest in the Apostles.”
Frankie stood, his nostrils flaring. “No.”
“Come again?”
“You can’t put them in a room together.”
“Why not? She’s perfectly safe with us.”
Frankie opened his mouth again before closing it. He dropped back into the seat - arms and legs spread out as if a string hanging him by the shoulders had been plucked. “I don’t like it,” he finally mumbled.
“You don’t have to like it, Fish,” Santi reshuffled the papers on his desk - his eyes flitting toward the black and white photograph of him and the guys: arms around each other, dressed in ratty t-shirts, the beach at their backs. They’d all been in their twenties aside from Benny, who had been eighteen or so. Will and Frankie were actually smiling - their teeth so white and big and branded across the shape of their sun-tanned handsome faces. Those two consistently befuddled him. They had twin darknesses that crept through their foundations. They always had - like they’d been born with a fungus that could not be removed or cut out of them. It clung to their bones, and it was just how it was and how it would always be. Mateo had been the same.
The photo served as a constant reminder for Santi. Since it had been taken, something dark and insidious had burrowed into his family. Frankie and Will huddled deeper into their heads. Ben shoved himself outward - plastering on that playboyfacade that none of them really believed was entirely genuine. Santi worked. Santi liked to work. He liked schedules and clean lines. He had no life outside of it.
Frankie cleared his throat to get his attention. Santi had gone somewhere just then - somewherebeyond the penthouse. Somewhere years ago, when everything hadn’t been up to him. “Well - I guess we’ll see what happens,” he said begrudgingly. Frankie stood up to his full height, dragging a hand through his too-long hair before focusing on Santi. His expression was somehow both pointed and weary. “Have you told her everything?”
Santi stilled - his body locking up tight. “No,” He tapped his fingers across the surface of his desk. Besides the piles of paper, his gun glittered under the delicate pendant lights of his office. He could see the cityscape reflected in the wood under his hands. The trickle and spark of offices and apartments - thousands of windows and dozens of skyscrapers all birthed from his family’s empire. “She needs to trust us. She needs to stay put while she’s still in danger.”
“So we just lie to her?”
“It’s more like omitting the truth.”
“Yeah,” Frankie’s tone was bitter. “She’ll really appreciate that.”
“You and I both know that that shit is complicated.”
There was a beat of silence - the unsaid events of their past rippling between them. Frankie shook his head. “Fuck, man,” There was a bitter laugh on his tongue. “Didn’t think I’d be here nearly twenty years later with Charle’s daughter on the line.” He scratched at his chin - his overgrown beard. He looked tired - threadbare, which was unnatural on him. Frankie rarely seemed weak due to his size and brunt strength. “Didn’t think I’d care this much either,” he added softly as an afterthought.
“You like her?” Santi needled.
Fish sighed. “She’s…she’s a nice girl.”
“Uh-huh.”
Frankie’s jaw clenched. “It’s not like that.”
“I know I have my head up my ass most of the time,” Santi dropped his chin in his hands and smirked up at him. “But I am pretty sure that it is like that.”
He could literally see the gears in Frankie’s brain working overtime - his nostrils flaring as if trying to weigh the pros and cons of admitting whatever feelingshe may have for her. Santi didn’t know the extent of them, but he did know that Frankie barely gave most women the time of day. He didn’t get protective or possessive. Hell - they’d shared women before due to it being practical.
“It’s not like that,” he repeated tightly before he stormed out of the office. Santi rolled his eyes.
***
Santi had called a dinner, which had seemingly surprised the girl. She’d kept her distance from him since they’d fought the night Benny had taken her out. The things he had done, he had done for her. At least - that’s what he told himself.
He was not a good person. He didn’t consider himself one, but he was still trying to wipe his slate clean. His history with Charles felt as if it was wrapped firmly around his neck. It throttled him consistently.
Santi studied her now as she sat in one of the dining room chairs. She was perched - not relaxed or at ease. He couldn’t blame her. They held her right at the precipice where she could not tell up from down. Santi was actively keeping her in the dark, and he wondered what he would do if she outright asked him what happened between her father and him.
He had realized that she was pretty good at watching people. She might appear aloof or quiet, but her eyes were constantly darting over their movements. She observed, and she remembered. She counted the knives on the table - the sips he took of his wine. Will had filled him in as much. Their training sessions had been taking place every other day.
“She’s got a photographic memory, man,” he informed him - his tone almost dazzled. “At least, when she wants to use it. She’s been able to mimic all the moves I’ve taught her. Granted - she’s still kind of weak, but she’s got the movements down.”
She picked up her fork before lowering it back to her plate. Her hair was mussed. Santi could tell she was biting the inside of her cheek. Her lips were bright - flushed and swollen from picking at them.
Frankie sat across from her - his expression strained. Every time the girl glanced at him, he averted his eyes or picked at his food. Ben was on one side of her and Will on the other - flanking her per usual.
Santi stared at her mouth again - imagined the plush of it giving way under his own. Her features narrowed when she caught him looking - her brow creasing in suspicion. He fiddled with the label on the wine bottle.
“So,” she said slowly. “Is there a reason we’re eating at the table like this?”
“Santi will tell you,” Frankie muttered as he folded his arms over his chest. The black ink of his tattoos flexed with his movements. He’d made it quite clear where he stood. Santi rolled his eyes and cleared his throat.
“The situation with my brother has gotten out of control,” he explained carefully. “He made his intentions clear when he left that present in your bed.” She grimaced, returning her fork to her plate as if she were sick. “Frankie fucked up by killing two of his men and - ”
“He did that for me,” she interrupted, her voice quiet. “He was just -”
“It was still a stupid move on my part,” Frankie intercepted. His gaze was thoughtful and bleeding with something Santi couldn’t identify as he looked at her. “I messed up. It just put you in more danger.”
She sighed - scrubbing at her forehead. “So, how do we fix this?”
“Iwill fix this,” Santi corrected. “I’ve talked to Baron. We’ve called a temporary truce. He’s going to come over and speak with you and hopefully realize that you have no intention of making a move on his territory.”
Will’s jaw ticked - his fist curling tight around the handle of his steak knife. But it was Benny who spoke.
“Yeah…,” he drawled. “That’s not gonna happen.”
“It’s already done,” Santi poured himself more wine. The pain in his head increased. He needed to get fucked.
Ben jerked his thumb at Frankie. “You’re fine with this?”
“No,” Fish said. “I’d rather pierce my dick than break bread with that fuck.”
“Thank you so much for that visual, pendejo,” Santi took a hearty gulp from his glass. “And the support,” he finished.
Frankie shrugged. “It’s my mess. I’ve screwed it enough.” He cast the girl a furtive look, which she returned evenly. “Santi knows what he’s doing.”
The girl’s mouth twitched. Santi felt as if several unsaid things were being shot around the table. The shared gazes. The tense jaws. Everything bled innuendo and suggestion.
“I don’t want him here,” Will rumbled - his arm thrown over the top of her chair. He was turned toward her - leaning into her body protectively. “I don’t want him near her.”
Jesus. Christ. Now - he had Will to contend with about this.
Santi opened his mouth to argue, but the girl beat him to it.
“Will,” she soothed - placing her hand on his. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be safe with the four of you.” She motioned to Santi. “If Pope says it’s what we have to do to get out of this, then it’s what we should do.”
He’d keep her around just for agreeing with him. It was becoming apparent that she had more sense than the others, who had slowly begun to lose sight of how they did things becauseof their affection for her. The irony.
“Thank you,” he replied as meaningfully as he could. However, she didn’t smile - in fact, she closed up again - staring back down at her plate. She was still pissed at him.
Will snorted - unmoved. “Baron is not going to touch her. He’s not walking in here and putting a bullet in her head.”
Faire shifted in her seat, and Ben scoffed. “As if he could.”
Santi glared. “This is justa meeting. It’s justa conversation.”
Will’s expression darkened as he pinned Santi with a sneer. “I haven’t forgotten how he acted during the RICO meeting.” He curled his fingers around the back of the girl’s chair. “That had just been a conversation, also.”
Santi winced.
“It’s fine,” She chewed her lip - a nervous habit that Santi had noticed she had. “I’ll do it, but I don’t understand why me talking to him in person is going to convince him that I don’t want to be part of his group.”
“He wouldn’t believe me if I told him. He’s going to have his inner circle there - people who can vouch for him and say that you personallyadmitted that you wanted nothing to do with the Apostles. It’s all just presentation…ceremony. You walking into the Chapel was a symbolic move even if you didn’t know it at the time.”
Will gave a frustrated grunt but didn’t argue. He was practically pressed against her, his hand still firmly settled on top of her chair. The tips of his fingers brushed the curve of her shoulder in a way that screamed intimacy. She pursed her mouth before nodding at Santi. There was something slightly childish about her features - a combination of her having seen both too much and too little. He couldn’t describe it. He had remembered her as a young girl - the big wide eyes and cute mouth. She had grown out of that girlhood spectacularly well, but it was as if her insides had permanently marked her beauty. A sadness stuck to her. Santiago felt it because there was sadness in him. She seemed lost in a lot of ways. As she sat in that chair, the edges of her dimmed. She started to dull. Charles hadn’t wanted her to be part of this life, and yet here she was. She was stuck on a runaway train with no reprieve or ability to brake. A fixed track. Written in the stars.
It made him fearful for her.
Santi found himself speaking before he could stop himself. “If you’re sure?” he urged. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
Frankie raised an eyebrow - his stare pointed. I thought you weren’t giving her a choice.
It was as if a flip switched. She sat up higher - sticking her chin out. The glittering lights from the chandelier swept over her - dressing her face in a warm, rich glow. The sadness had vanished, and Santi felt his breath catch.
“I’m sure,” she replied. “How bad can it be?”
Santi gripped his glass before downing another heavy swallow. “Alright,” His gaze dragged over her again before he could stop it. Something heady bloomed between his ribs. He’d have to call a girl over tonight. Maybe, two.
***
“Ben,” Frankie called from the foyer. He was doing everything in his power not to gapeat where Faire was slouched on the floor of the den. Her back was against the front of the couch, and Tom sat curled in her lap. She mindlessly stroked his head as she stared up at the television. She was dressed in jeans and a pink sweater with tiny pearl buttons. Everything fit so snuggly that Frankie could see the curves of her hips - the swell of her breasts beneath the cashmere fabric. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The way she looked when Ben was fucking her on that bed still played on an endless loop in his head. Her face tipped backward - her lips parted, and her eyes shut in ecstasy. Her arched back as Ben drove into her hard and fast. Frankie hated that that particular image had managed to overtake the one that was his. He recalled sensations: tight, wet, and clenching. Her moans and the tiny wrinkle between her brows when he first sunk into her. She’d practically strangled his cock. The heat of her gorgeous cunt had been molten and soaked. He’d cared for that image. He nursed it. He’d fucked at least a dozen women since, and it hadn’t been enough. Still - he continued that descent - racing without a steering wheel toward an unfinished end as he tried helplessly to banish her from his memory. More nameless women. More. More. More.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s fine.”
“Ben!” Frankie yelled again. The girl finally cast him a sharp glance before it darted back to the television. He deserved that. He deserved her hate and her anger, and all of the bitterness that had no doubt accumulated over the last few weeks. Frankie heard Benny curse and then the tread of his heavy boots stumbling down the stairs. He strolled into the foyer like his world had been doused in gold. Maybe - it had been.
Ben grinned at him. He was freshly showered - his boots still untied. Frankie briefly wondered if he’d just gotten done fucking her when he remembered that Faire was sitting in the den looking perfectly put together. Jesus.He was losing it. Jealousy was a foreign feeling for him. He’d never cared enough to be jealous, but the sight of her getting pounded by his best friend had unlatched something poisonous in his system.
“Where we headed?” Ben asked. Frankie ignored him and marched out the door.
“What have you been doing?” Frankie snapped over his shoulder.
“Jacking off,” Ben quipped as he followed him out into the hall. “Now - tell me where we’re going? I was looking forward to a quiet night.”
Since when had Ben ever looked forward to simply hanging out? He was restless - always chomping at the bit to work his club or socialize with the masses. Gamble. Drink. Sit in his booth with the same pompous energy he’d utilize if it were a throne. Now - that wasn’t enough for him.
Frankie knew the answer. Of course, he did. The girl had managed to infiltrate each of their heads - shake them around until they didn’t know what direction they’d been standing in, to begin with. He was not himself, and neither was Benny. Even Will no longer spent all of his time in the basement.
“Theo,” he replied shortly.
“Why?” Ben laughed. “We fucking her again? Thought that was a one-time thing.”
Frankie’s lips curled. He wouldn’t put it past Ben to try and get a rise out of him after they’d made direct eye contact while he was balls deep in their captive. “We’re going to make sure that Baron will be on his best behavior. You know how good Theo is at wrangling him.”
The garage was empty and humid. Summer was still clinging to the buildings - leaking into the concrete. He slipped into the front seat of one of the Range Rovers, and Benny followed, taking shotgun.
He was silent as they made their way out of the garage. Frankie was grateful for that since his head was beginning to pulse. His ears buzzed. He tapped his fingers across the steering wheel as the sun filtered through the windshield. It was a gorgeous day. Blue and blinding. It irritated him.
“So,” Ben clapped his hands together. “We going to discuss how good Faire’s pussy is or -?”
Frankie slammed on his brakes - the car screeching to a halt and nearly missing the stop sign. “Jesus, Ben.”
“What?” he smirked. “I know you fucked her.”
Frankie’s head whipped toward him. “She told you?”
He shrugged. “I figured it out, but she confirmed it.”
He pursed his lips - sweat building on his palms. He dragged a hand over his face and started driving in what he hoped was the right direction. They had to meet one-on-one with Theo. He couldn’t remember why. It was as if everything about his day had suddenly melted into black space.
Benny cleared his throat. “She thinks you hate her,” he remarked. “She thinks you don’t respect her - just wanted to use her.”
“I mean, that’s kind of what happened. It was…a moment of insanity…I don’t know.”
Ben’s huffed. “You can’t do that to her. She doesn’t deserve it.”
Frankie shot him a withering look.
“What? Are you guys dating or something?” His tone was mocking. He was pissed when he didn’t have the right to be, but he couldn’t hold back. “Ben, you are the most fickle person I know. You’ll love this girl for a week - be enamored with her and her pussy, and then you’ll get bored like you always do.”
The words were spilling out of him like brackish water.
Benny’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not like that.”
“Really? I can name a dozen other women you’ve done this to…Emily, Cara, Jessica, Marissa…the list goes fucking on,” Frankie shook his head, scoffing. “I did the right thing. I coul
