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.
Lorea is nowhere in sight. With one gunshot, they lost the element of surprise. The team spreads out, sweeping the remaining rooms and disarming any guards; demobilize, duct tape, zip tie, move out of sight.
Moments later, Redfly’s voice comes through the ear sets. “Everyone to the office, now.”
Amara and Frankie exchange a glance before heading to the North Wing Office. This place was massive, containing 14 rooms in total.
Entering the office, they find the rest of the team, minus Pope, already there. What they came for is nowhere in sight, the money. The only signs it was here are empty bags. Amara feels a tightness in her gut, she looks at the empty bags.
An exclusive fic for @clydesducktape Moon In May (week 3) posted on week 4 (life you know)
Prompts used this week: heat, wolfsbane, curse
⚠️ warnings: missing person, impending danger, a traumtic childhood alluded to but not expanded upon, intense overwhelming sexual feelings, masterbation but not heavily detailed or described. It’s super brief, like blink and you miss it.
Time passes with ease on the long drive to Louisiana. Along the way, Izara shares what she knows about Priestess-Wolf hybrids, also known as I'ah - Sa’s in Coptic.
According to Lore, they were one of the most respected and powerful members of their tribe, with roots in Ancient Nubia. Because they were rare, most packs didn’t have one.
In history, as with all things, there were some examples of their power gone bad. However, for the most part, the spirit and soul of the Priestess-Wolf was good, and they were able to fight darker forces and inclinations.
The Priestess-Wolf gene is passed down from the maternal line. It’s believed, to keep some balance, nature only made them half-breeds. This detail is debatable, as no proof exists to prove this right or wrong. I'ah - Sa’s were private by nature and didn’t advertise their gifts.
I'ah - Sa’s gain access to the magic at age 13. An elder or guide is needed as the magic can be too powerful or hard to control for the child. The first transformation into wolf form happens during the year they hit puberty, so the age varies.
Both processes happen organically, unless there’s interference by magical means, or a curse placed on the line. Unlike common Weres, they can turn at will without repercussions. For normal werewolves, a non-full moon turn can come with exhaustion, slower healing time, or aches and pains that linger for days.
Any news and stories of the Priestess-Wolf died down over the 18th centaury, they were believed extinct after this. Due to territory battles and others wanting such strength, it’s believed I'ah - Sa’s were extinguished by neighboring packs. If any existed after, they did so in secret.
Izara believed them to be extinct herself until she visited some distant family in Louisiana 30 years back. During that trip, she met her now dear friend Zola Eshe; a historian, genealogist, high priestess and I'ah - Sa. Zola was the only one Izara (and to a greater extent the Millers and the Pack) knew, until Ajani walked into that bar.
…
It was night now and time to eat some dinner. Izara’s taken this trip a number of times, she enjoyed driving and didn’t mind the travel. Over all her trips, she accumulated a list of favorite rest stops, places to eat, and to sleep if they wanted to rest for the night. It’s one of these places they stop at for dinner. It’s a perfect Spring night and the bench they choose is near a beautiful Cypress tree.
Izara takes a bite of food, “I think this is going to be life changing for you.”
Ajani smiles. She was hungry, and excited, but there was something else. Though Will was over 4 hours away now she couldn’t shake his scent. She always had a very sensitive nose but after spending a couple of days around the Millers, everything felt heightened, stronger.
Sometimes it felt like Will was right there. Hovering over her, smelling her, touching her. And when she let her mind linger a little too long, she’d picture Bennys eyes on her and the deepness of his voice. Ajani’s desire for Will is overwhelming, being drawn to Benny too was the last thing she needed.
Trying her best to calm what was happening inside of her, Ajani shifts her attention to the small pouch around her neck, hidden by her shirt.
Before they hit the road, the two women stopped at Ajani’s hotel and grabbed a few things. Most importantly she wanted this pouch. This special mix was made to calm her pheromones and hide her scent. Not just for herself, but from what she understood, if she was going into heat, other Weres would pick up on this, even if she was just a suppressed Halfbreed.
If she could, Ajani wanted to avoid attracting extra attention. The bit of wolfsbane inside was irritating her, and she knew Izara didn’t love it, but it was a necessary ingredient.
Izara breaks the silence with a question, “Have you considered the possibility your parents didn’t give you and Andre up by choice?”
The question pulls Ajani right out of her own head.
“Not really. It was a closed adoption, so, we don’t know anything. Just that they gave up when Andre was 2, I was 1,” Ajani sets the fork down and frowns, “I just never understood what could make parents give up two little kids?”
“I don’t know honey, but there could be a valid reason.”
“We were in so many homes until the last one. I know we weren’t well behaved after a while but…” she shakes her head, “…we were hurt, angry kids you know? The Bennets are okay people, they tried but it wasn’t a good fit. They didn’t understand us…and when Andre first turned, I was with him. It was horrible. We had to hide it from them because we didn’t want to go back in the system.” Ajani shrugs and slouches back against the seat. She didn’t like talking about any of this. Like Andre, Ajani shoved all this deep down inside.
Izara, ever observant, picks up on this and doesn’t push any further. “We don’t have to talk about that now. But you should know, Zola is the real deal. Unlocking your true form may take going deep into you past. You’ll have to face this.”
“I have that feeling.” Ajani sits back up. “I know I have to do it.”
“Good, come on, let’s get out of here. Would you like to hit the road, keep going? Or rest for the night?” Izara asked. She puts money down for the bill. “There’s a place I like, about an hour out. I’m friends with the owner. We’d have to leave early in the morning.“ She wrinkles her nose. "I can get a break from that wolfbane too.”
Ajani chuckles, “sorry. yeah, lets rest.”
Izara takes her phone out and searches her contacts. “Honestly, I’d prefer being annoyed over playing bodyguard to horny Weres. But you need to take care of this,” she points to Ajani, “It’s going to be a real problem as we look for your brother.”
Feeling embarrassed, Ajani drops her gaze to the ground and walks away from the table, “I’ll wait for you by the car.”
Ajani is only waiting about two minutes when Izara returns, she stands on the passenger side and offers Ajani the keys. “I don’t let anyone except a select few drive my baby, consider this my blessing.”
Ajani takes them, then unlocks the car, “your blessing?”
Izara laughs and moves to the trunk; she searches for something then tosses a button up shirt at Izara. “This is what you’ve been smelling. And yes, it’s his.” She climbs into the passenger seat, wearing an amused grin.
Ajani rubs the cotton of the shirt between her fingertips and brings it to her nose. Her reaction is instant, it feels like Will is holding her, his breath against her skin.
She closes her eyes and whispers to herself, “Get it together. You’re driving.”
Ajani places the shirt in the backseat then enters the car. Closing the door behind her, she straps in and starts the car.
Izara turns to Ajani. “He’s been mate-less for a long time…not for lack of options he just never wanted to settle. We weren’t sure at this point if he should keep waiting or pick someone. Whenever we presented Will with an option, he rejects it.”
She continues, “he’s always reminding us how Jon and I met. Jon already had kids, a mate, but she wasn’t his forever mate. We found each other after. We thought Will wouldn’t find his person, then you walked into the bar,“ Izara’s eyes are warm, “A wolf always knows their mate. Suppressed wolf or not, you know it too.” Izara breaks eye contact and turns the AC on.
Ajani almost forgot how hot her skin is, until the cool air provides instant relief. She observes Izara for a moment, then brings her eyes to the road. The silence in the car soon fills with music from Izara’s Bluetooth.
…
The quaint hotel is one of the cutest places Ajani has ever seen. It’s tucked away in a quiet part of town and looks like something from a movie. The owner had two rooms open, giving them one each. After a nightcap in the small but charming bar area, they said goodnight and headed to their rooms.
Ajani’s thankful to have her own room. She needs a cold shower and to take the edge off. Part of her feels ashamed bringing the shirt with her, but there was no way she was leaving in the car, not when it smelled of him.
The shower doesn’t help matters any, at first the cold water feels good against her skin. It’s a fleeting relief, the heat returns with more intensity. Dragging herself to the bed, she lays down flat. Rolling onto her side, she grabs Wills shirt and brings it to her nose.
Closing her eyes, Ajani visualizes Will. The scene from the living room replays in her mind. This time there is no one else, just her and Will. As she inhales his scent deeply, her body awakens further. Before she realizes it, she slides her hand inside of the loosely closed robe.
Keeping the shirt close, and with the aid of her vivid imagination, a euphoric wave washes ever her. Her body goes still. For the first time in two days, her body temperature finally decreases. Rolling to her side, she snuggles the shirt. A second later, her phone buzzes on the nearby table.
Ajani grabs the phone and smiles at the message.
Will: It’s Will. I got your number from Quinn. I hope that’s okay.
Ajani: More than okay. This is a nice surprise.
Will: Is it too late to call?
Ajani: No, not at all. Please do.
Almost at the same time she presses send, Will calls.
“Hi.” She whispers into the phone speaker with a smile.
His voice is low and breathy, “I can’t stop thinking about you. I wish you were lying next to me.”
Ajani pulls the shirt close again, while holding the phone with her other hand. “I wish I was too.”
…
The Next day, evening time
Zola is everything Ajani imagined and more. As the first full day with her winds down, Ajani feels her mind expanded, her spirit lifted, her heart lighter. Izara sticks around, while giving them plenty of space. Being here feels like an unrealized dream of Ajani’s younger self.
As Izara predicted, it takes Zola no time to figure out the source of Ajani’s block. Watching the majestic women in ritual felt like a privilege.
With the guidance of her ancestors, Zola was able to connect to Ajani’s ancestral line. A curse was the sole cause her block. Her people were at war with another group, a group who wanted their power and kidnapped her mother to have it for themselves.
Protecting his family, Ajani’s father killed the Alpha and slaughtered half the pack to get his wife back. Once it was done, her mother and father went into hiding. During that time, they had Andre, and Ajani. Their happiness was shattered when enemy wolves found them. They were captured. Instilling the help of a witch, the enemy pack initiated the curse.
POV switch - Will - That night
Post pack meeting, Will went for a run. Benny joined him.
After looping around their usual route three times, the brothers take a break and have some water. Will takes a few sips, then pours the rest over his head.
He’s squeezing the bottle so tight it bends under his weight. The run barely provides any relief. He growls under his breath and paces in place. Will can feel his brother watching him.
“I’m fine.” He barked.
Benny crosses his arm, cementing in place, ” no you’re not bro. You’ve been in a shitty mood since yesterday and you went a little hard back there.“
Will clenches his jaw as he looks at his brother, "You surprised? We’re dealing with assholes again. You should be pissed too!”
Benny drops his arms and gets in Wills face. "You know how I feel about that.” He says through clenched teeth, “I’m talking about her. You’re in a fucking rut man!”
Will growls and shoves the bottle back in his backpack. Too irritated to speak, he takes off running again. Benny curses and follows him.
When Benny catches up, he run alongside him, “Take the edge off man, you have plenty of - “
Will raises his voice, stopping in place, “ I don’t want them!”
Benny takes a step back, “fine don’t bite my fucking head off man.”
Will breaks eye contact and curls over, resting his hands on his knees. He tries to breath out the frustration and anger.
This wasn’t new, he’s had plenty of ruts in his 38 years, especially being unpartnered. It was easy before; he’d pick an Omega and enjoy himself.
Picking an Omega was a very quick solution to his problem, but Will was trying to resist. The only woman he wanted was 9 hours away now. He’s seen examples of how bad a rut can get, how dangerous. He hopes he can handle the wait.
Getting himself together, Will takes a deep breath then stands tall. He places a hand on Benny’s shoulder. “I’m sorry man.”
“It’s cool,” Benny grins then playfully shoves his brother, “besides, if you pick someone in there, maybe I can have Ajani for myself.”
Will’s expression instantly turns serious, his eyes dark, a growl rumbling in his chest. Benny laughs. “Whoa, I’m messing with you man! You’ve made it very clear she’s yours.”
Benny starts jogging backwards, “come on, let’s go back. I gotta make sure you don’t go insane before your girl gets back.”
Will shakes his head, chuckles, then follows his brother back to the bar.
-> When convinced to retrieve the money left by Frankie and his team at the bottom of a canyon in Peru, you have to deal with the most annoying person you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. Thank you once again to @foxilayde for proof reading!
TW/CW: LONG-ASS SLOW BURN ISH FIC BUT THE SMUT IS WORTH IT I SWEAR. Enemies to lovers ya’ll. Santi being a sassy little bitch. Violence, death. Oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, degradation and dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex.
BANG!
Shocking you out of your tipsy haze is the slam of a shot glass against the wooden tabletop. The dingy bar is rather quiet this late at night and so the sound practically ricochets off of your eardrums. Paired with the raucous laughter of the men sitting with you at the table, you found it practically impossible to tame the wild twitch of your brow that only made an appearance when you were truly at your limit.
Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia had surpassed your limit astronomically. He’d stepped over the fence of exactly what you could tolerate, then set it aflame.
Fuck, you’d never hated someone so intensely. You were beginning to spend time awake at night trying to answer the burning, existential question of whether or not there was anyone, alive or dead, who deserved more resentment than Pope. Needless to say, the list of those who met the requirements was dwindling.
Run Through the Jungle - a Naked & Afraid/Triple Frontier AU
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader
*reader is vegetarian and ethnicity/weight inclusive. people of all sizes have competed on this show (and completed it)
Fic Summary: Benny Miller convinces his bestie Frankie to compete on the Naked and Afraid survival show. He has no idea what he’s walking into when he’s paired with you
*Naked and Afraid is a reality survival show on Discovery Channel where two contestants, a man and a woman (trans & non-binary inclusive) are paired with no food, clothes, or water in a hostile environment with only 1 survival item each. Contestants can tap out at any time but must make it to 21 days to win
Warnings:large age gap (legal), size kink, discussions of killing, processing, and eating animals, cussing, PiV, oral (f & m), dirty talk, masturbation (m), face fucking, somnophilia, enemies to lovers, Pride and Prejudice vibes, ANGST, Frankie being a misogynistic DICK for a little bit
A/N:Someone needs to fucking stop me because my brain is ignoring SO MANY WIPS RIGHT NOW! HELP! This unasked for one shot was bred out of a binge watch weekend of this show, mentioning it in passing to @musings-of-a-rose, who then had the audacity to ask me, “what if Frankie were on that show?” and this is what happened. This is an AU. Triple Frontier hasn’t happened yet or won’t, I haven’t decided. Frankie doesn’t have kids yet. I hope you enjoy it, I’m really in love with this story.
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.
I haven’t done any writing ages. Got married, had a baby, fell off the face of the Earth. This blog used to be essentially Billy Hargrove fics and head canons and maybe I’ll get back to that, but I have been pretty interested in writing Triple Frontier stuff lately. If that’s something people would be into, I will throw up an old prompt list and see what is requested? Sound good?
summary:he can’t help it—thinking of you out here.
word count: 1k+ (like why are we even here lol)
warnings:angst, naughty dreams and thoughts (18+ bye), language, x fem!reader
a/n:uh—tbh, i don’t know what this is other than purely self-indulgent. it would probably work best if you read the “rose between two thorns” series (or at least the first part) before this lil one-shot, but it’s not entirely necessary.
he can’t help it—thinking of you out here.
it’s self-preservation. when he’s surrounded by nothing but chaos—tension between the boys, gunfire and helicopter crashes and dragging duffle bag after duffle bag through the mountains—his mind wanders.
“How’re you doing, kid?” Tom murmured in your ear. Your skin hadn’t started crawling yet, but it definitely would soon.
“Redfly, leave the girl alone.”
A third voice - the voice of God himself, if it meant that Tom would let you go.
Summary: Your friend Dina is dating Benny Miller, and drags you along to one of his fights before a night at a bar. His friends meet you there - Tom ‘Redfly’ Davis, who is too busy trying it on with you to think about his wife; Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia, who is a god made flesh; and Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales, who agrees to help keep you out of Redfly’s clutches. But Frankie is not without his own charm…
Relationships:Frankie Morales x reader, side Santiago Garcia x Original Female Character, side Benny Miller x Original Female Character
Rating: First chapter is Mature, but it will be getting Explicit after that…
Author’s note: I saw Triple Frontier last week for the first time and it has occupied my every waking thought since then. This is my first ‘x reader’ fic, so feedback is appreciated. Benny is my darling boy and I want to write him a loving af relationship even if it’s in the bg of this fic. I also don’t mean to step on toes but Redfly is the worst man and deserved to die a lot earlier than he did in the film. I am also obviously obsessed with Frankie Morales. Sorry if the formatting is fucked, this is the first fic I’ve posted directly to Tumblr in many’a.
Warnings: 18+ for frequent language, she/her pronouns, future smut but this chapter is just teasing.
“The fight ends at 9pm, so we’ll be good to get to the bar by 9.30,” Dina said, leaning to within a hair’s breadth of the bathroom mirror. Your arms twitched, hands opening and closing as you watched the safety pin come even closer to her eyeball.
“Dina, do you have to- the fight?”
“Yes, I need to separate my eyelashes, and yes, the fight.” She said, tongue peeping out between her lips. “Benny is fighting and he’s going to come with us to the bar afterwards.”
Your heart sank, just a little. Benny was a great guy, and you were happy for Dina, but it was always harder to get into bars when Benny ‘Brick Shithouse’ Miller rocked up with facial wounds and an ego after inevitably winning the fight.
Apparently their post-fight sex was insane.
“So it’s you, me, and Benny?” you asked flatly, and she rolled her eyes in a way that made your hands clench into fists, with a vivid mental image of the pin sinking into her eyeball. She ignored you, of course, and started on the bottom lid.
“No, you prick,” she said, teasing each lash apart. She paused, and winked at you through the mirror “Ha. Prick! Get it? Sandy, Amy and Kelly are joining us - and Benny is bringing his friends.”
“William and Tom?” You were trying so hard not to be a downer, you really were, but you’d met William and Tom before and it was not a great experience. William - Benny’s brother - was aesthetically pleasing, and a lovely guy, but way too earnest about the purity of combat, while Tom was… a douche. A douche who clearly enjoyed his nights away from the wife a little too much. “Great.”
“Not just Will and Tom,” she chided, finally putting down the pin and fluttering her eyelashes at her reflection. “A few of his old squad guys are coming too.”
“OK then,” you said, and turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” Dina called.
“To get another drink.”
Based on the MMA prelude, you decided to rethink your outfit to something a bit less… showy, and had poured yourself into a skintight skirt with a shirt that helped accentuate your decolletage just right. So right, in fact, that you’d forgone a sensible coat in favour of a leather jacket that didn’t even close properly. The clothes did little to shield you from the cold, which explained why you had chugged nearly half a bottle of Smirnoff in the cab over.
—————–
Dina looked every inch the fighter’s girlfriend, she really did. You didn’t even know she owned a faux-fur coat. Her meticulously-separated eyelashes were currently fluttered together, shielding her eyes from her cigarette smoke.
Not that it helped. Your buzz was fading fast with every second you stood out in the freezing cold parking lot.
Sandy hadn’t bothered to change her outfit - “Fuck it, it can’t be any dirtier than the bar.” - and was leaning against the arena wall wearing a mini dress that practically showed what she had eaten for breakfast. The woman had legs up to her neck, and more than one man had slowed his passage into the arena to get a good look. Sandy, with legs that long since she was fifteen, and a face that had been beautiful her whole life, flipped each one off with a casual laziness you could never hope to emulate.
The three of you were standing outside the arena waiting for Tom and the others to arrive. The crowd was known to get rowdy, and Benny had been very firm with Dina about going in with his friends. William was already inside with Benny, prepping him for the fight.
It was so cold you were nearly tempted to ask Dina for a pull of her cigarette, just to feel some warm air, when -
“Dee!”
Your face locked into a grimace, and you looked down to kick a loose pebble from under your shoe, trying to regain control of your facial muscles by the time Tom got close.
“Tommy!” Dina yelled. “You’re late, what the hell?”
“Don’t blame me,” Tom said, “Blame these assholes.”
Two sets of denim-wrapped legs stepped into your view, and you huffed out a little sigh before looking up. Tom was standing in front of you, with his friend on his right.
His friend. Who was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. He smiled at you, and you felt a small laugh escape you.
What was that face? He looked like a Latino George Clooney. How did he get taken seriously in life?
“Hey, tiger,” Tom said to you, his lopsided smile showing a little too much teeth on one side.
“Hey… Tom.” you replied, raising a hand in greeting. He made a little ‘pfft’ sound and pulled you in for a hug, enveloping you in the smell of… dear god, was that Axe?
You heard the crunch of gravel, and a movement out of the corner of your eye told you that the devilishly handsome man was currently introducing himself to Sandy.
Probably wouldn’t have worked out with us anyway.
“How’re you doing, kid?” Tom murmured in your ear. Your skin hadn’t started crawling yet, but it definitely would soon.
“Redfly, leave the girl alone.”
A third voice - the voice of God himself, if it meant that Tom would let you go.
“This is my girl right here, Frankie.” Tom said, and the proprietary tone in his voice made your stomach turn. You should have just met them at the bar.
“Crazy, I thought your girl was sitting at home looking after your daughter and -” the second half of the sentence was in mumbled Spanish, and you heard a bark of laughter from the handsome man. A quick, rough pat on the back and Tom released you, already walking into the building as if nothing had happened.
The speaker was standing in front of you; a tall-ish man wearing a blue plaid shirt over a grey tank top, with a beat-up baseball cap on his head. Just as the phrase ‘hillbilly trucker’ crossed your mind, every thought in your head promptly vanished on looking up into his face. A pair of warm brown eyes were gazing down at you, creasing gently at the corners. He wasn’t built like Tom or William; they slanted more towards beefcake, where this guy was toned and slim. He was older than you - not a surprise, William and Tom were in at least their mid-40s - but it was a very manageable older. Unruly, curling brown hair peeked out from under his cap, and the man smiled, a shadow of a dimple appearing on his cheek.
The other guy was crazy good-looking in a movie-star way, the sort of hot that had made you laugh because it was almost unreal. This guy was the perfect side of handsome, mortal enough to take your breath away just a little and not make you feel stupid about it.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m Frankie.”
Maybe it was the dimples, maybe it was the fact that he had just saved you from a fate worse than death, or maybe the cold had finally gotten to your brain. Whatever it was, you barely knew what you were saying until you’d said it:
“And I am so fucking yours.”
So much for not feeling stupid. His smile widened, and your heartbeat quickened just a bit.
“Ignore Redfly,” he said. “He just doesn’t have good manners.”
Another burst of Spanish from behind you, from the dark-eyed Adonis near the door, and Frankie replied in kind, with an evocative hand gesture that you were pretty sure meant ‘fuck off’.
You finally turned to get a good look at the other man. He was standing in front of your friends, angled towards Sandy in a way that boded well for her. He was terribly good-looking.
“Hey, how’re you doing?” he leaned toward you, and took your hand in his. “Santiago Garcia.”
The man was on another level. You felt like you were meeting a politician. You told him your name as if in a dream.
“That’s a beautiful name,” he said, looking into your soul, and you felt that laugh bubble up again. This was too much all at once.
Dina blew out one last plume of smoke, and threw her cigarette butt on the ground.
“Come on guys, it’s fucking freezing out here.”
—————————————-
The arena was chaos. Tom was nowhere to be seen, but he could have been standing two feet from you and you wouldn’t have seen him. He could have been behindyou.
As the thought crossed your mind, a hand came to rest on your hip and you jumped sideways, ready to kick Tom in the fucki-
It was Frankie, hands suddenly up and visible, mouth framing a ‘whoa’ that you could never hear over the din of the crowd. You grimaced, mouthing sorry.
He gave you a tight-lipped smile, uncomfortable, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He craned his neck to look over the crowd, toward the ring, and you stepped quickly toward him. Your hand raised, like you had the right answer in a classroom, and you tilted your mouth up towards Frankie’s ear. He scrunched his face and bent his head towards yours.
“Sorry,” you said into his ear, trying not to deafen him at this range. He smelled warm, and clean, a welcome respite from the arena’s smell of old beer and sweat. “I thought it might be…” one of your best friends, whom I loathe. “… a creep.” you finished lamely.
When you pulled away, he was looking at you so intently that a blush started to creep up your neck. Hands still in his pockets, he rocked back and forth on his heels as he processed what you said. His tongue worked in his mouth, pushing out his cheek, before he winked ever so slightly, and nodded.
He knew. He damn well knew.
Frankie grinned and pointed towards the ring, to where your friends had disappeared, before nudging you forward.
————————————
Dina and the others were sitting ringside, by Benny’s corner. Dina had shrugged her coat in the sticky closeness of the arena, and was adjusting her top for maximum cleavage. Beside her was Sandy, deep in conversation with Santiago, and Tom sat beside Santiago next to an empty chair.
The single empty chair.
Fucks sake.
Tom saw you both coming, and had a look of fake disappointment on his face that your hands twitched to slap off. He held his hands up in defeat, before patting his thigh. A quick scan showed that this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in the arena; the place was jammed so tightly that you counted at least seven people on laps in this section alone. A fire hazard, and a pain in the ass.
You’re fucking kidding me.
You went to take a step, and felt a hand grip your arm. Frankie was sliding past you on your right, pivoting to sit in the empty chair. A shit-eating grin slid onto Tom’s face, and he patted his thigh again.
You’refucking kidding me.
Frankie still held your arm loosely in his left hand. Reaching over Tom, he nudged Santiago, who broke off from his conversation long enough to pass him a beer. Settling back into his seat, Frankie spread his legs a little too wide and steered you into the space between them.
He looked up at you under the brim of his cap, his face out of Tom’s eyeline. The corners of his mouth curved downward and one shoulder shrugged, as if to say ‘Why not?’.
Lightheaded, floating on a mental chant of fucking hell fucking hell fucking hell fucking hell, you perched on Frankie’s knee, your knees pressing against his other leg. A quick glance at Tom’s face nearly made you yelp. The ham-coloured man was staring sullenly out over the ring, lips pursed around his mouthful of beer. The smile was nowhere to be seen.
Frankie shifted slightly, and with one hand on your waist pulled you closer until you were sitting mid-thigh. When he was satisfied, his hand moved to settle against your lower back, keeping you upright. The shape of the seat had his body angled away from you, allowing you to sit upright without being nestled against him. He leaned towards Tom and said something in his ear, something you could barely hear over the din. It was as if he’d forgotten you were there.
But not quite. Slowly, as if you were a wild animal he was trying to tame, his hand started to move in gradual, broad strokes, forward and back, forward and back.
Your stomach muscles locking tight was your only visible reaction, and you thanked baby Jesus and all the angels in heaven that Frankie couldn’t feel the way your pulse had suddenly picked up. Though that might not be far off; there was a warm throbbing between your legs that definitely hadn’t been there two minutes ago.
Forward and back. Forward and back.
This was totally normal. This happened to you every day. Every day you met hot guys and sat on their laps. Every day you got mildly turned on by hot guys stroking your back.
Looking over at Dina, the two of you locked eyes. Her grin was positively wolfish.
Fuck off, you mouthed.
You looked around, hoping that the people-watching fodder available would help take your mind off the hot man you were sitting on and what his hand was -
As if Frankie could hear your thoughts, the rhythm of his strokes changed. Now, instead of moving forward and back, his palm started sliding up and down, with every pass downward bringing his hand closer and closer to the curve of your ass.
For a fraction of a second, your breath caught in your throat, and the pulse between your legs kicked up a notch. Trying to keep your cool, you casually - so casually! - looked over at Frankie.
Still absorbed in conversation with Tom. Fine. He clearly had no idea what he was doing, no idea of the effect he was having.
Your awareness was steadily narrowing down to where his hand touched you, to the vague sensation of warmth that each pass left on your skin. Reaching the hem of your jacket, he paused almost imperceptibly, before reaching under the leather to rest on the back of your shirt.
Dear god, were you disappointed he wasn’t touching your ass? Were you actually sad that this stranger wasn’t -
A radiating sensation on your back, so warm and firm, and suddenly you could feel every little movement his hand made, the way his fingers were flexing against your skin so gently -
Air you didn’t realise you had been holding escaped your lungs in a whoosh.
“Getting bored up there, tiger?” Tom’s expression wasn’t as friendly as it normally was, and you were reminded why all of this was happening. This was purely for Tom’s benefit.
“No, it’s fine. It’s…” you looked down at Frankie as he took a sip of his beer. His eyes met yours over the rim of his beer cup, and a smile crept across your face. When the cup left his lips, you took it deftly from his fingers and lifted it to your mouth. Your gaze didn’t leave his. Tom may as well have been part of the furniture.
The beer was not good, but you finished it, and ran your tongue over your lips. Frankie’s eyes tracked the movement, and you felt his hand pause, felt his fingers splay wide across the small of your back.
“It’s great,” you said, winking down at him. “But I think we need another drink.”
You placed a hand on his knee for leverage, and stood. Dina saluted you with her nearly-empty drink, and tapped at the low liquid level with one long fingernail. You nodded, and flashed the OK sign.
A broad chest blocked your view, and the smell of Axe surrounded you. You glanced up at Tom, who was shaking his own empty cup.
“I’ll come too,” he said. “I could do with another-”
“It’s cool, man,” Frankie stood, easily slotting himself between the two of you, and gently but firmly took hold of your shoulders as he turned to the exit. “I got it.”
Empty cups and debris were strewn across the aisle, and you were beginning to regret wearing your heels for what was shaping up to be a fucking obstacle course. But you felt Frankie’s presence behind you, and if you put a little more sway into your walk than normal, so what?
Between a few stragglers at the bar, there was a gap just wide enough for the two of you to lean against the counter. You rested on your forearms, and flagged down the bartender.
————————————
“Two beers, and a whiskey and coke.”
“Make it four,” Frankie said. “I know it may not seem like it, but it is better to get Redfly liquored up. After about,” - his hand made a see-saw motion - “six drinks? He’s going to get real maudlin, start missing his wife, and go home.”
“Oh, yeah,” you replied, “He’s really missing his wife when he’s trying to put his hand up my skirt.”
His eyes flickered up and down your body, and he cleared his throat. One hand came up to scratch at his moustache, before smoothing it back down.
“You know, I don’t blame him,” he said. “That skirt looks great on you.”
A low warmth pooled in your stomach, and you smiled. He smiled back, those beautiful eyes twinkling as he turned around to face the arena, elbows back on the bar.
“If I… go too far, in there,” he said, face suddenly serious. “You can just punch me in the face. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
The bartender laid your whiskey and coke down in front of you, and pulled out two cups for the beer.
“Two more of those, please,” you told her, and took a sip of your drink. You knew you were a bit of a savage for drinking whiskey with coke, but your sweet tooth demanded nothing less. “Frankie, I’m not really OK with the idea of ‘being saved’.”
“That’s fair,” Frankie turned to the bar, and rapped a quick tattoo on the wood. “When we get back in there, you take the seat and I’ll -”
“But,” you raised a finger. “Your lap is pretty comfortable. And if you’re OK with having my ass on your knee all night, then I’m happy to stay there.”
A laugh escaped him, and you found yourself appreciating the way his moustache framed his lips so perfectly.
“I think you’d be hard pushed to find a man who wouldn’t be OK with that deal.”
The bartender laid down four cups of beer. “$25.60.”
Frankie laid out three $10 bills, and pulled the cups closer.
“Do you think you could make sure Tom doesn’t put his hand up my skirt?”
He was intent on arranging the cups in a way he could carry them, to the point that you thought he hadn’t heard you. Just as you were about to repeat yourself, he flashed you a wicked look.
“Well sweetheart,” he smiled, “I’ll just have to get my hand there first.”
————————————
As soon as you sat back down, it was like a switch had flipped. Your conversation at the bar had been light, to the point where you’d nearly forgotten that you’d actually been turned on a little at sitting on Frankie’s lap.
When you got back to your seats, and Frankie had handed off the beers he was carrying, he sat and pulled you down onto his lap in one fluid movement. No more tentative movements; he held your waist firmly, and pulled you even closer than before. And now, not only was his hand stroking your back again - he had put it under your jacket straight away - but his other arm was now resting on your leg. His beer cup sat on your knee, below where the hem of your skirt rode up, and he rotated it gently on your bare skin, almost teasing you with the cool feeling of the condensation on the base.
It drove you just a little short of wild. Though part of you wanted to shift against his thigh, wanted to feel some pressure right where an ache was steadily building between your legs, you kept it together fairly admirably.
A wet patch on Frankies jeans probably wouldn’t go down too well anyway.
A murmur from the crowd rolled towards the ring, and Pantera’s heavy guitar riff blasted through the speakers.
Benny was here.
————————————
Ringside seats were… certainly something.
The smell of blood hummed in your nostrils, and you felt the impact of every punch.
Benny was a monster. He had swaggered into the arena, head and shoulders above everyone, and proceeded to hammer the shit out of his opponent once the bell rang. Watching the way Dina was looking at him, you were very, very glad they were going back to Benny’s place tonight.
The six of you were standing at the ring edge, screaming and roaring with the crowd. Your blood was singing. Sitting on Frankie’s lap, his hands leaving trails of fire wherever they touched you, had rattled you something fierce, and the adrenaline from the fight was getting to you too. You didn’t think your pulse had slowed for about ten minutes, and you were breathing like you were climbing a mountain.
It was the last minute of the last round, and Benny was flagging.
You guessed. You really had no idea who was doing better, both fighters were covered in blood and looked tired as fuck.
Santiago, Dina and Tom were rattling the cage, howling through the wire at Benny. The man was intent on his opponent, never taking his eyes off him.
As you watched, Benny did an odd movement, stepping back, rotating his shoulders and head as his feet danced. You heard roars come from your friends, but were completely lost.
“He’s about to kick the guy’s head off his fucking shoulders,” Frankie’s voice was low, and close. You felt his nose brush the outer shell of his ear, and you suppressed a shiver as his breath ghosted over you. He was standing behind you, so close that you felt his warmth up your body from ankle to neck. He reached over your shoulder, and pointed up at Benny’s right foot.
“You see that?”
Benny’s foot was moving in a fan shape on the floor of the ring. He dodged as much as he needed to to evade blows, but whenever he was still his foot moved in that fan shape.
“Why is he waiting?” Turning your head, your nose brushed against Frankie’s jawline. He smiled down at you.
“Not long now, sweetheart,” he said. “Watch.”
He stepped closer until he stood flush against your back, and crossed his arms over your chest to grip his own elbows. His beard brushed against your cheekbone, and you found yourself nestling further into his hold. He was just so warm and solid and -
Benny moved like lightning. His opponent came too close, ever so slightly unguarded, and Benny pivoted on his left foot and -
“Fuck!” you screamed. Benny’s opponent hit the floor, and the arena erupted.
I have about 15 different subjects waiting in my art queue, but then I saw this image from the Talk Easy podcast and couldn’t help myself. What a breathtaking smile!
Summary: Signs!AU. It started off in the most bizarre of ways. Crop circles. You mean the bother of cleaning up someone’s stupid prank? But then the lights come—hundreds, thousands—floating menacingly above the cities. The panic starts to settle in. Full summary here…
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader
Warnings: angst GALORE - like i’m not even kidding i cried sm, swearing, supernatural themes, thriller/horror, violence, guns, talk of death & suicide, a death i cried over, violence/injury towards an animal i also cried over, blood
Word count: just over 5.5k
A/N: Hi howdy hey. ok i was delayed and i have no excuse - i just got distracted watching suits baha. ANYWAY, here we go. Sadness everywhere. Enjoy. Also, the song playing (you’ll know when you get to the part) is Billie Holiday’s “I’ll Be Seeing You” because that’s a damn beautiful song.
It’s another fucking splinter in your fingers keeping your mind from spiralling, the pain of it just enough to help contain the budding hysteria building in your chest.
You ignore addressing the persistent sting of it, instead holding firm against the thick plank of wood as Frankie hammers harshly against it, nailing it into the window frame. The length of timber stretches across the glass window and stops the sun shining through the pane, blocking your view of the outside.
Only when he steps away with a carved frown of vigilance, gaze critically observing the other windows that you finally move to pinch at the small splinter, a brief wince flickering across your features before your thumb rubs along your skin. The hammer picks up again, and your attention is pulled to him, eyes following the sweat that beads along the back of his neck and soaks into the collar of his shirt.
Oh god I can’t even begin to breathe with this one, I love horror and I love your writing and this is one of my favorite works on here. The way you slowly build suspense until you have me by the throat.
I read this last night, and i could not sleep. I was shaking in my booties.
The way you use language and images that makes it picture clear without the pace ever feeling like it’s dragging I don’t know how you do it but I am envious of your talent and skill. I mean just that opening sentence alone:
It’s another fucking splinter in your fingers keeping your mind from spiralling, the pain of it just enough to help contain the budding hysteria building in your chest.
It raised the hair on the back of my neck.
But also your characterisation work and dear god your Frankie, protective, caring, and yet hardened and ready to go to any lengths to achieve what needs to be done, you so deftly capture all of those nuances and it blows my mind every single time:
His knees hit the floor, and he pushes through the sudden feeling choking his throat. His fingers curl into the rough fabric of the chair, and he’s no longer fighting for himself, or Harry. It’s you. You’d spent more time with your neighbour, helping with appointments and medication and laundry and anything he ever needed—Harry was the world to you. You’d be devastated leaving him behind.
GOD this passage! I love it so much and I love you for writing it all!!
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
Continuing with this series of gif teaser thingies for Frontier of Anarchy ✨ Thanks again to the few lovely readers out there who have been following this story! I’m super grateful to have you on this journey
Aera and Will have the night of their lives, exploring NYC with no idea that a certain somebody might have just arrived…
Shitpost of FoA-themed gifs depicting my tumblr fic writer experience
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My impatient ass @ the entire tumblrverse like 2 seconds after I’ve posted a fic lol, bouncing off the fucking wall:
. My needy ass loudly begging for love 24/7 on this blog, listen bitches I’m sorry I know I’m annoying as fuck:
. My professional ass pretending that I don’t give a shit as I busily go about my day, not like I’m out here on tumblr obsessively checking my notifs okay:
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My overdramatic ass feeling personally attacked by tumblr’s low opinion of my writing quality and the fact that barely anybody loves me, lol I’m a joke honestly:
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My indignant ass convinced that my writing is good shit and underappreciated hence the urge to ditch my WIP and delete my page, lmao watch me rage:
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My tumblr addict ass inevitably crawling back to carry on with my bullshit, biting the bullet ‘cause apparently I can’t stop posting content even if nobody wants it:
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Idk if any other fic writers relate to the clown shit I’m going through but anyhoo, thank you to everyone who doesn’t hate me lol I’m sure it’s very few!! Luv u ❤️
The more I see and find out new things about Garrett Hedlund, the more I realize that maybe Garrett wasn’t acting in Triple Frontier. Garrett is Benny and Benny is Garrett.
While I’m thinking about it, here’s a little (completely unedited) taste of that Watch Your Step Fanfic oneshot. Dedicated to @charnelhouse I love you. I’m so nervous haha.
18+ - Explicit
Just like Charnie’s story, this is going to be super dark. And at some points this oneshot is really personal to me and I needed to vent a bit, so I’m just going to bring out a trigger warning that a mention of sexual assault will be in the oneshot. There will not be anything explicit, just a sentence where it is heavily heavily implied as well as self-harm(again, no description or anything just implied). So read at your own risk. This will be rated as explicit due to the content, so no minors, all of you please stay away from this specific oneshot because I know I have some following me. This is based off of the story, so of course Faire is not going to be the exact same as how *my idol* Charnie writes her.
“What the fuck am I doing? You- you all, you all kidnapped me and I’m- I’m fucking- oh my god. What the fuck am I doing?” She whispered.
They knew it was coming, her moment of realization. Her panic, they knew shit would hit the ceiling, and they still weren’t prepared for it.
“Breathe, honey.” Will whispered, rubbing his thumb on her cheek, she retaliated violently, slapping his hand away.
“Please don’t, please don’t touch me, I- please.” she crawled against the wall. She hadn’t pleaded like this since her first day, when she’d talked to Pope in his office after trying to break out. “Please let me go, please. I can’t- I can’t do this. What the fuck have I done?” she muttered, her head between her knees.
The boys shared a similar look of confusion, no idea what to do. Any option they had would not work with her while she was in this state.
I’m back homies! Hoping to be updating Echoes soon enough, it’s been forever and I’m still in a dry spout for that specific story. Check out the Damirae Zine 2022 on our tumblr, instagram or twitter @damiraezine, it’s $10 and epic. I participated in it yet again this year. I’ll be working on some more Damirae oneshots/drabbles as we’re barreling through May to get everyone’s minds off of the shitshow that is happening in the world right now. As well as some Triple Frontier content which I’m currently working on. I also just got pretty sick (I tested negative but my household is all positive so IDK) Stay safe, stay relatively sane and take care of yourselves! Love, Mini.
