theewokingdead - Tumblr blog

theewokingdead · 27 days ago

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Love this 😭😭😭

I got an idea for a soul mate type thing with Benny and a girl who works at a coffee shop, as for the soul mate part, maybe every time one person is injured the injury appears on the other person’s in the same spot but as flowers. Oh! With Benny being an MMA fighter he gets punched a lot and it affects his soul mate, so when he goes to her place to tell her about his fight, he sees her covered in flowers that are similar to the bruises on him and it turns inti the soul mate thing dawning on him and him apologizing profusely and her telling him that it wasn’t his fault . Maybe just a tad fluffy at the end

(I also really like your one shots, they’re very good. Thank you

SoulMMAtes

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 1865

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Sorry this took so long to get to! I've never written a soulmate au and then I wrote it but we all got sick! I hope this is what you're looking for.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

“Cappucino for Keith!” I project out at the handful of people waiting, a middle aged man coming forward, phone glued to his ear as he snaps his fingers at me, yanking the coffee from my hand and leaving without a word to me.

“You’re welcome,” I mutter under my breath, moving to take the next order.

I glance at the ticket and look for what I need, only to find the container empty. I sigh internally and head to the back room, my eyes scanning the shelf to locate the right syrup bottle. Which happens to be on the top shelf. I reach up to grab the bottle, my coworker, Amy, coming in behind me.

“More flowers?” She points to where my shirt had ridden up, the bottom of a bloom of flowers just visible under the hem. I grab the syrup bottle and stand straight, lifting my shirt slightly to show her the rest. “Your soulmate is either clumsy as fuck or really loves to get beat up.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, that would be my luck.”

“Still no idea who it is?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“Do they hurt still?”

I shrug. “They used to. Now I guess I’m used to it.”

I remember being told about soul mates and our attachment to each other, any pain the other receives will show up on their mate’s bodies in the form of beautiful flower tattoos. They did not mention that pain often comes with it. The first time they appeared, it was my right eye. I missed class and called out of work for a few days. Supposedly, the flowers are to give you a clue as to who your mate is. How it helps, I’m not entirely sure, since I still haven’t found my soulmate yet.

I follow Amy out of the backroom, bottle of syrup in hand, swapping it out with the old one. Some time passes, and then I hear my favorite regular’s voice placing his order. I look up just as Benny walks to my end of the counter, all blue eyes and a big smile.

“Hey, sweetheart! Do you ever go home?”

I smile, looking away from the intensity of his gaze for a moment. “Nah. I sleep in the back on top of the bags of beans.”

Benny chuckles and my stomach flips. “Is that why your coffee tastes the best?”

Fuck. Why can’t he be my soulmate?

“I sneak hard core drugs into yours so you’ll keep coming back for more.”

A smile stretches across his face, his eyes darkening slightly. “I’ll come for you anytime.”

I can feel the heat in my cheeks, spreading across my face. I turn, trying to hide it and the smirk on my face as I busy myself with his regular order. I feel a small tug at my heart, a yearning for this man that I know I’m not matched with. I school my face and turn back, handing him his coffee.

“Well that’s good to know. It’ll save me money. But my dealer may not be happy.”

Benny laughs, his eyes twinkling as he opens his mouth to say something. But then another blonde man walks up to him, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “You ready to go, Ben?”

Is it just me or does Benny look a little…sad? He turns towards the man and nods. “Yeah. Oh, Will. This my favorite barista in the world. This is my brother, Will.”

He sticks his hand out and I take it briefly, noting the firm grip. “Nice to meet you, darlin’.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

Will turns to Benny, tossing a thumb over his shoulder. “We gotta go now or you’re gonna be late.”

Benny glances at his watch. “Shit. Yeah, ok.” He looks at me, a little sadness in his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I feel like my heart is in a wrench. Get over yourself. He’s not even your soulmate. I plaster on a smile that I hope seems genuine. “I’ll be here!”

—----

That night was one of the worst nights in a while. I just barely make it home before the pains start, first across my ribs, then a knee, my cheek, and my eye. The pain is more intense than it has been, and I throw my bag down, kicking off my shoes just to drop my body onto my bed. Smaller flower tattoos erupt across my body for next few minutes, the pain eventually fading into the background as I curl in the fetal position, wondering what the hell my soulmate is doing. Eventually, somehow, I fall asleep.

—----

The morning sun shines through the blinds on my face and I blink awake, stretching my cramped limbs. It’s a moment before I remember why I was in this position. I drag myself into the bathroom, shedding off all my clothes and step in front of the mirror to assess the marks. There are small, lighter ones scattered around my body, mostly on my torso, with the one on my ribs bright and beautiful. Thankfully, the flowers on my face have faded, for the most part. Gently, I touch them, a tear slowly falling down my cheek, thinking about what might have happened to my soulmate.

I reach for my phone and call my manager, explaining that I can’t come in today. They weren’t having it though, telling me that I’m closing and they’ll see me tonight. Sighing, I hang up the phone and try my best to cover up the gorgeous marks, wondering and hoping that my soulmate is ok.

—----

The only thing that was getting me through my shift was the thought of maybe seeing Benny. The doors open and close, people coming and going, none of whom are the man I want to see. I shouldn’t want to see him, but I do. About 10 minutes from closing, the last of the customers file out, one of the men laughing loudly and punching his friend in the arm as the door closes behind them. I sigh, moving to start the closing routine, especially since I’m alone. It was so slow, I let the other employee go home early to be with her kid. The door opens as I’m about to dump the remaining coffee. I turn and am met with familiar bright blue eyes, sweaty hair plastered to his face.

“Did I make it?” Benny is trying hard to make it look like he isn’t breathing heavy.

I’m happy to see him, but also worried. “Yeah but..are you ok?”

He nods, slight pain in his eyes that he desperately tries to bury. “ ‘m good.”

There’s silence for a few moments as I watch him try to fight for his life with the breathing. “I’d make you our usual, but honestly that coffee has been sitting a while. You should probably have a decaf tea anyway.”

Benny nods. “Sounds good.”

I turn away from him, hearing him suck some air quickly through his teeth. A little sharp jab in my side reminds me that I’m nearly overdue for another round of pain killers. I head towards our tea shelf.

“Slow night?” Benny asks.

“Yeah. It’s never busy on these nights.”

I scan the jars on the counter, naturally finding the chamomile on the highest shelf. Sighing, I stand on my tip toes, my arm outstretched to reach the box. My fingertips graze it when I hear Benny move, his shoes thudding across the floor as he comes around the counter.

“What is that?” He asks, suddenly behind me and the closest he’s ever been. Fuck he smells so good.

I glance back over my shoulder, tea bag in hand as I mange to turn in place. “Uh…what?”

Benny points to my back, where my shirt had ridden up while reaching for the tea. “The marks.”

My cheeks flush and I look away from him. “Oh, it’s uh…a tatt…too?” Great. That sounded convincing.

“Show me.” It wasn’t a demand, but it didn’t feel like a request. I swallow the lump in my throat. I know that once he sees the marks, he won’t come back. Why would he waste his time when he could be finding his soul mate?

“It’s nothing, really. A dumb idea when I was younger.”

His eyes soften slightly, his eyebrows pulling together to do that stupid look that makes me go weak. “Can I see?”

We watch each other for a long moment before I nod, turning my back towards him and raising my shirt to show off the beautiful flowers that bloom across my ribs. His fingertips brush against the marks and my body tingles, shivers shooting through ever nerve in my body, my stomach feeling like it’s full of butterflies.

“I…I am so sorry, sweetheart.”

I turn back to him as he takes a step back, my heart clenching at his movement. “Sorry for what?”

“I didn’t fucking think about…I didn’t realize…holy shit but yeah of course! Oh fuck this makes sense!” The concern is battling with a dawning realization on his face.

“Benny, what-” He grips the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, his chest bare.

And covered in bruises and nicks.

My eyes widen as I see the darkest and most prominent bruise, splayed across his ribs exactly where my flower marks are. As my eyes roam across his torso, my hands touch places on my body where the marks are, each one of them identical to the bruises on Benny.

“You?” I whisper, my eyes finally landing on his.

He nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “Me.” He holds a hand up, palm facing me and I press my hand to his. The same feeling shoots back through me, my nerves alight, butterflies bursting from my stomach, but also a sense of coming home, being safe, warm, and loved. Benny steps closer to me, lightly gripping my ribs and pulling me close to him. With his other hand, he brushes some stray hair from my face, tipping my chin up to him as he places the softest kiss on my lips. Everything slides into place - the way I always felt drawn to him, why my body was physically reacting to him in more ways than one, why I couldn’t stop thinking about him once I’d seen him. His embrace feels exactly where I belong.

I pull back, his eyes searching mine.

“Are you a terrible ninja or something?”

Benny laughs, his whole body shaking with it. “Nothing cool like that. Just MMA.”

“Are you terrible or?” My eyebrow cocks up and he smirks.

“I win every fight. I just know how to take a punch.”

“Well could you maybe take a few less from now on?”

Benny smiles. “No need, sweetheart. I’ll quit. I don’t want you in pain for my stupid mistakes.”

He presses his lips to mine again, moaning slightly into the kiss. But then he inhales sharply, hissing out. I feel the twinge in my ribs and I know he’s hurting.

“Ok, let me clean this place up and then I’m taking care of you. Got it?”

Benny smirks, his eyes twinkling. “Yes ma’am.”

-------

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@wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso

@theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz

@gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox

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@mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk

#benny miller #Fic rec

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theewokingdead · 1 month ago

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Hi, yes, I need to know they're okay 😭😭😭

What's Left

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

tags: allusions to smut, established relationship, dad! Frankie, angst, emotional turmoil, all the emotions, Frankie is a broken man, ALL THE ANGST, signs of trauma, it’s so much angst I can’t stress this enough, takes place after Triple Frontier

summary: He’s slipping through your fingers right in front of you.

word count: 1,8 k

Between the birth of your child and Frankie leaving for a new mission laid 6 months. 6 months filled with learning how to take care of a child while still somehow trying to take care of yourself.

The little human demanded all your attention, not leaving room for much else. Frankie was a great dad. He loved his child and tried his best to take off some of the load, carrying the weight of raising a baby with you, but it still didn’t feel like what you had hoped it would be. Amid endless diaper changes and feedings, healing your body, there was not much space left for the man in your life and the distance between you grew.

Stolen kisses, some precious and rare moments alone, some tired words of encouragement were all you were able to squeeze into the tight schedule that built around this new life you created.

You were exhausted like never before, but you still noticed when Frankie grew restless again, his knee bouncing nervously as he sat on the couch.

His fingers tapping invisible melodies on every surface.

You knew all the signs, but you decided to ignore them for your own sanity. You needed the energy for the baby.

When Frankie joined you in bed one night after laying the baby down, you knew he had something important to say, given the way he looked at you really looked at you.

His brown eyes studying you closely, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek, his thick fingers tangling in your hair. Attention like this got rare and you basked in it, even if you felt the uneasiness in your stomach grew.

“I have to leave for a while, a week max” he said, his big hand still raking through your locks.

You closed your eyes and exhaled deeply. He made this decision already, there was no point in arguing.

“It’s a lot of cash, baby. Just this one last mission and I’m done for good. This could change our life forever,” he reasoned with you, probably believing his own lie.

You had heard it all countless times before – him swearing he was done after that one last time.

But the field he worked in was like a siren, luring him in, dragging him into its depths until he stood at the abyss and watched the chaos unfold.

You were powerless to the pull he felt for the adrenaline rush that his job provided. The domesticated life he had built with you would never compare. Even if from an outer perspective you looked like this cute little family, freshly married and happy, you knew how far from the truth it really was. You were on borrowed time. Frankie was a guest in his own home, more a ghost consisting of the man you met and fell in love with and the kind of person he became during and after the times he left.

Your home became a casket of four walls, filled with trinkets and memories. Memories of good times, which weren’t much. Little trips, postcards, magnets on the fridge.

Polaroids of the two of you, in and out of frames. These versions of you staring back at you from the photographs reminding you of the couple you used to be.

Glimpses of a life scattered around in your tiny apartment. A life both of you desperately longed for but never reached.

After he spent the night buried deep inside of you, whispering sweet nothings into your hot skin, promising things you knew he wouldn’t be able to keep, it made your heart ache and your eyes watery. You never knew love could hurt so much.

He filled the void he had created effortlessly and left you longing for him more than ever when he was gone in the early morning hours, just as the sun was about to rise.

“Te amo infinitamente,mi vida”, he whispered before he stood up, thinking you were still asleep as his steps echoed in the stillness of the morning. When the door fell shut behind him you buried your face in his pillow and cried until noon.

A few days after he left, you kept wandering around, rocking the infant in your arms ,your feet almost too tired to walk.

Your mind was a mess, imagining all the possible worst case scenarios.

A call from his friends saying he didn’t make it.

You becoming a widow and a single mom.

Frankie coming home a changed man once again –a new version of him you had to share your life with, the man under all the trauma no longer within reach.

With every mission he lost a part of himself, leaving behind pieces of his soul, sacrificed himself for a higher purpose. He thought he did the right thing, when in reality he drifted further away.

Further away from you and the family you knew he loved, but probably not enough to keep him where he belonged.

The warmth in his eyes was fading away bit by bit, replaced by a cold and inaccessible stare.

You missed him, even when he was right there.

You missed his gentle eyes and hands on you, the way he used to look at you like you were his most prized possession. Like you were the only thing in this life he really cared for. Maybe beneath all of this, you still were this for him, but he had a fucked-up way of showing it.

Every time he returned to you you feared the version of him you’d be greeted with once he’s back.

What did he lose this time?

How severe would his wounds be this time –physically and mentally? Your worry transformed into anger, into helplessness into defeat.

You wondered what was worse: him never coming back or him coming back?

Of course it wasn’t only a week; it was two, it was three and just when you were almost certain he wouldn’t return the front door opened, the sound of keys echoing through the room. You rose from the couch, your child thankfully already asleep as you stood in front of him, taking him in.

It was Frankie, your husband, no doubt.

At least from the outside.

He kicked off his shoes, the keys mindlessly thrown on the table in the hallway.

“Francisco?” you asked, the only light illuminating him being the one from outside.

He didn’t look up at first.

You stepped closer, reaching for his arms but he startled as soon as you did.

His eyes found yours, and it felt like your heart shattered into a million pieces.

His beautiful brown eyes were so sad and fearful, a new depth to them they definitely didn’t have when he left.

“Hey, it’s me…” you murmured, your voice betraying all the emotions inside of you.

He looked at you in disbelief.

Almost like you would be just a hallucination his mind had made up.

Then you saw the visible scar, still somewhat fresh and red on his left cheek. Your first instinct was to reach out to trace your fingers over it, but you held back after you already startled him so much with your sheer presence.

The silence between you stretched, thick and heavy. Frankie’s breath was shallow, his shoulders tense beneath the jacket he had on, the fabric of it pulling tight against his frame. His gaze flickered down to the floor, then back to you, like he was trying to reconcile the image of you with the reality he had returned to.

“Wher…where have you been?” you asked softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. The weight of the question hung in the air, heavier than you intended. His return felt like a fragile thread that could snap at any moment. Your eyes searched his face for an answer, anything to bring him back into the man you knew, the man you loved. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion, and for a moment, he just stood there. The confusion and exhaustion in his eyes were almost palpable. The scar on his cheek caught your attention again, pulling your focus back to it.

Your heart clenched. It was even worse than you had imagined.

“I… I didn’t–” he started, but stopped himself, shaking his head as if the words wouldn’t come. His hands flexed at his sides, fidgeting, as if they didn’t quite know what to do with themselves. You took a step closer, reaching out again, this time more slowly, letting him see your intention before your hand brushed against his arm. His body flinched at the touch, but he didn’t pull away. That was something at least.

“Francisco, please. You’re scaring me. What happened?” The plea in your voice broke through the barrier between you, a crack that might let the real him seep back through, if only for a moment.

Finally, he looked up, his eyes locking with yours, defeated and vulnerable. The weight of whatever he had endured over the past weeks seemed to crash over you all at once.You could see it in his eyes now—something had changed in him. Something dark and heavy now so present in his usually warm eyes.

“It’s… it’s not something I can explain right now,” he muttered, voice strained as if the effort to speak was more than he could bear. “I just… need a moment, please baby.” A moment. You wanted to protest, to demand more, but something in the way he stood there, so torn and so fragile, told you that any further pressure would break him and shatter whatever piece of him remained. You nodded, slowly, the tears threatening to spill over. “Okay. I’ll wait. We’ll wait. But… I need to know that you’re still here. Any sign you’re still under all of this.”

The words tasted like a plea, like a desperate anchor thrown into an ocean of uncertainty. His expression softened for a second, but the sadness remained in his eyes, deep and unsettling. He was still there, but you weren’t sure if he was ever going to return to you completely. “I don’t know if I can be,” he whispered, almost too quietly to hear.

“But I’ll try, for you. For us.”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you feel as though the last thread was still hanging on. You clinged to the little bit of hope you had left. You didn’t know what he’d been through. You didn’t know if he could fully return to you ever again or if you lost him fully forever. But at least he was here now. Alive.

You gently wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into an embrace, feeling his body stiffen for a moment before it gradually softened. Maybe, just maybe, the man you had once known was still somewhere inside him. And for tonight, that was enough.

thank you for reading, don't forget to leave some love <3

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#frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie

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theewokingdead · 1 month ago

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Benjamin Miller 🤝 Benjamin Miller

#benjamin miller #benny miller #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #garrett hedlund #the last of us season 2 #tlou2 #pedro pascal character fanfic #garrett hedlund character

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theewokingdead · 1 month ago

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ISTG WE BETTER SEE JOEL IN THOSE GLASSES

#Joel miller #Pedro pascal

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theewokingdead · 1 month ago

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big bad gentle joel miller

gif cred 🤍

#pedro pascal #joel miller #tlou

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theewokingdead · 1 month ago

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𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

#3 ONE-SHOT inspired by Two Princes by Spin Doctors.

Summary: Frankie and Santiago, both retired soldiers, unknowingly find themselves dating the same woman—you. At the men's night out, Frankie casually asks Santiago if he’s dating you, sparking a realization that they’re both involved with you. Tension builds as both men confront the situation, and when you step in their trap, you're left to choose between them.

Tw: +18 mdni, love triangle, petnames (baby, my love, hermosa, cariño), threesome, swearing, possessive!Frankie, possessive!Santiago, oral f and m!receiving, fingering, praise, unprotected piv (wrap it y'all), dirty talk, creampie, pinching nipples.

A/n: this one took me forever but I LOVED every single part of it. First Triple Frontier smut in the series, I hope you enjoy it :) !! word count: 3,228

← Previous songs

The night started like many others—whiskey glasses clinking, low conversations in the haze of a dimly lit bar. Frankie and Santiago sat at a small, round table in the back, their usual spot whenever they found time to catch up. The bar hummed with distant chatter and the occasional burst of laughter, but between them, an uneasy silence had begun to settle.

Frankie leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the room, but his thoughts were far away. He had a vague sense that something was off, something about you. You’d been distant the last couple of times they’d met, slipping out of conversations just a little too quickly, your texts arriving at odd hours. It wasn’t just that, though; it was the way you moved—like you were playing a game neither of them were fully aware of.

Santiago, on the other hand, was quiet, his expression harder to read than usual. He was watching you, too, even though he hadn’t admitted it yet. Every time you’d smiled at one of them, his gaze would shift, just a little too sharply. And each time you mentioned your other plans, whether it was with family, work, or anything that didn’t involve them, it didn’t sit right.

For a brief moment, Frankie could swear that he saw your profile picture when Santiago was texting someone so fondly. He rolled a cigarette between his fingers, brows furrowed. “You ever get the feeling you’re being played, man?”

Santiago took a slow sip of his drink, eyes narrowing slightly. “Depends on the game.”

Frankie exhaled a short chuckle but didn’t look up. “Her name ever come up in your head when I say that?”

Santiago didn’t answer at first. He simply stared at the dark amber liquid in his glass, then sighed. “You talking about her?”

Frankie finally met his gaze. The weight in the air shifted.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Santiago said, but his tone was off—too measured, too controlled.

Frankie smirked and glancing at his phone. “Yeah, you do.”

Another pause, longer this time. Santiago leaned back, rubbing his jaw. “Fuck.”

Frankie laughed, but there was no real humor in it. “Yeah. Fuck.”

The realization settled between them, heavy and electric. The woman they both thought they had something special with—the one who had been slipping between them without a single misstep—was playing them both. And damn if that wasn’t impressive.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Frankie pulled out his phone and set it on the table. “We could call her out.”

Santiago scoffed. “Or?”

Frankie lifted an eyebrow, mischief creeping into his expression. “We could have some fun with this.”

Santiago studied him, then let out a quiet laugh. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Frankie tilted his gaze toward Santiago's phone. “Now that you're having a conversation with her, invite her. Same place, same time, and I'll join you.”

Santiago chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re in.”

A beat. Then Santiago smirked. “Yeah. I’m in.”

Then Santiago hit sent.

The hotel room was dimly lit, the air thick with the kind of tension that could snap in an instant. Frankie sat in an armchair near the bar, Santiago leaning against the window with arms crossed. They had been quiet for the past few minutes, lost in separate memories—kisses stolen in dark corners, whispered words that felt meant just for them. And yet, they had never really been hers alone.

“You pissed?” Frankie finally asked, voice low.

Santiago exhaled through his nose, something between a sigh and a laugh. “I was.” He turned to look at him. “You?”

Frankie thought about it, then shook his head. “Not anymore.”

Santiago nodded, pushing off the window. “Gotta hand it to her, though. The way she kept us both hooked without either of us noticing?” He let out a low whistle. “That takes skill.”

Frankie chuckled. “Yeah. Kinda impressive when you think about it.”

A beat. Then Santiago tilted his head slightly. “What if we don’t make her choose?”

Frankie’s gaze darkened with something unreadable. “Thought about that too.”

Santiago smirked. “And?”

Frankie’s lips curved into a slow grin. “I think we make the offer.”

A knock at the door.

They shared one last look before Santiago pushed off the wall and moved to answer it. When the door swung open, you stood there—expecting one man, and finding both.

Your lips parted slightly, eyes flickering between them as realization dawned. But before you could speak, Frankie leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

“We figured it out,” he said, voice smooth, almost amused.

Santiago leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “And we got a proposition for you.”

You should be angry. Maybe you should be scared, or at the very least, nervous. But instead, there was a strange kind of exhilaration blooming inside you. The thought of being caught between them—the tension of it all—felt like a delicious challenge. Your heart raced, but not out of fear. No, it’s something else, something darker.

Frankie tilted his head, voice dropping. “Don’t look so nervous, cariño.”

Santiago smirked. “You wanted both of us, didn’t you?”

The air in the room shifted, thickened, humming with something almost dangerous.

Frankie held out a hand, inviting. “Then take us both.”

Silence.

The door clicked shut behind you, the sound final, sealing you into this moment with them. A part of you wanted to run, but another part—the part you’ve tried to ignore—welcomed the chaos. There was no turning back now. You stepped into their game, and a shiver ran down your spine as their eyes locked onto yours, a silent promise of whatever it was you were re willing to accept.

“Listen, I…” You hesitated for a moment. “I'm sorry, dating you both separately was wrong but this… is fucked up.”

Santiago's expression softened slightly, his voice gentle but firm. “We know it's unconventional, baby. But hear us out. We both care about you, deeply. And we've… discussed this at length. We want to give you a choice, to be with both of us, fully and completely.”

“More sure than anything else in our lives,” Santiago whispered, stepping closer. “We're not just saying this to get you into bed, hermosa.” He exchanged a glance with Frankie, who nodded in agreement. “Though,” Frankie added with a slight smirk, “if you're worried about how it works...”

Frankie chuckled, his smirk widening. He uncrossed his legs and stood up, towering over you. “Let me demonstrate,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. He looked at Santiago, who already knew what Frankie was planning. “Santiago, come here.”

Santiago moved closer, pressing himself against your back. You were sandwiched between the two men, their hard bodies caging you in. Frankie tilted your head up, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, while Santiago started trailing kisses down your neck, his hands roaming your body.

“See?” Frankie whispered against your lips, trailing kisses along your jaw as Santiago continued kissing your neck. “The way you melt between us... it feels right, doesn't it?” Santiago's hands moved to your waist, pulling you firmly against his hardness while Frankie placed possessive hands on your hips.

Santiago whispered against your ear, his breath hot. “No need to overthink it now.” Frankie captured your lips again, then broke away to nip at your bottom lip. “Let us worship you, mi amor. Let us give you everything you need.”

With a low growl, Frankie picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently. Santiago followed, crawling over you to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. Frankie started undressing you slowly, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin.

“Just relax, baby” Santiago murmured, his fingers trailing teasingly along your stomach as Frankie finished undressing you. Frankie's hands roamed your body hungrily, squeezing your breasts and teasing your nipples until they hardened. “God, you're gorgeous” he breathed.

Watching them pleasuring you made you bit your bottom lip.

“Don't fucking do that,” Santiago said suddenly. “If you bite that lip, I swear to god, I'll make you pay.” He looked at Frankie, who smirked and bent his head to suck the lip out of your mouth, soothing it with gentle bites and kisses.

“Mmm, you like that, don't you?” Frankie murmured after they quickly heard your sweet sounds, switching his attention to your neck and marking you with his teeth. Santiago watched, his eyes darkening with desire. He started undressing, revealing his muscular chest and abs. “Let's see how you handle us both.”

Frankie undressed slowly, deliberately, maintaining eye contact with you. His movements were graceful, almost predatory. The dim lighting cast shadows across his powerful body, making every muscle definition clear. Santiago moved to your side, running his fingers through your hair. “Spread your legs, baby,” he whispered.

“Wait!” Suddenly you came back to Earth. “I've never done this before... you know? A threesome.”

“We know,” Frankie said, his voice soft and reassuring. He settled between your legs, pressing gentle kisses to your inner thighs. “We'll go slow, make sure you're comfortable.” Santiago nodded, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Just tell us to stop if it's too much, okay?”

With gentle care, both men explored your body. Frankie focused between your legs while Santiago kissed your neck, breasts, and stomach. They worked in sync, complementing each other's touches perfectly. Frankie's tongue found your clit, making you arch against his mouth. “Fuck, you taste amazing as usual, hermosa” he growled.

It was too much pleasure to handle. They were so skilled each one of them, you always knew that, but together you could feel like moaning even louder than normal.

“God, listen to those noises,” Santiago growled, watching Frankie feast between your legs. He captured your lips again, swallowing your moans. His hands massaged your breasts, tweaking your nipples. Frankie pushed two fingers inside you, making you buck against his hand. “She really likes that,” Santiago murmured, his fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head back further. He claimed your mouth again in a deep, possessive kiss as Frankie continued to worship between your thighs. “Frankie, two fingers, okay?” he asked, breaking the kiss briefly and Frankie nodded.

“Mmm, you're so tight, hermosa. I'm gonna stretch this pretty sweet pussy so good” Frankie groaned against your pussy as he pushed two fingers inside you. His touch was gentle yet firm, slowly stretching you open. You moaned into Santiago's mouth as he continued to kiss you passionately. The combination of their touches was overwhelming but pleasurable.

Santiago broke the kiss, his breath ragged. He looked into your eyes, checking in. “You okay, baby?” You nodded, whimpering slightly as Frankie began to curl his fingers inside you, hitting a spot that made your eyes roll back. Santiago smiled approvingly.

“Mmm, found your sweet spot, didn't we?” Frankie chuckled darkly, maintaining that perfect rhythm with his fingers. Santiago moved to your breasts, sucking one nipple while teasing the other with his fingers. Your back arched off the bed, pleasure coursing through you.

“God, you're so responsive,” Frankie groaned, adding a third finger and increasing the pace. Santiago switched to your other breast, ensuring both nipples were equally flushed and hard. “She's ready, Frankie.” Santiago whispered between breaths. “I'm going to get you properly wet, baby.”

Santiago repositioned himself, settling between your legs alongside Frankie. His tongue joined Frankie's, both now lavishing attention on your soaked pussy. Frankie continued fingering you firmly while Santiago licked and sucked, focusing on your clit. Their tongues danced together, teasing your folds.

The room filled with your whimpers and the wet sounds of their mouths and fingers working in tandem. Frankie and Santiago glanced at each other, smirking wickedly as they heard your pleasure-filled moan. They increased their efforts, tongues flicking faster over your clit while Frankie's fingers pumped steadily. Santiago reached up, tweaking a nipple sharply, the sting contrasting beautifully with the pleasure assaulting your core.

Your hands gripped the bedsheets tightly as the overwhelming sensation pushed you closer to the edge. Frankie felt your walls contracting around his fingers, signaling your impending orgasm. He looked up at you, his face glistening with your arousal, and whispered, “Come for us, hermosa. Let us taste it together.” As Frankie's words washed over you, combined with their relentless attention to your sensitive spots, your orgasm crashed through you spectacularly. Your body shuddered violently as waves of pleasure consumed you. Frankie and Santiago didn't let up, continuing to lap at your dripping pussy, prolonging your climax.

As your orgasm subsided, Frankie and Santiago finally pulled back, their faces covered in your juices. Breaking apart, they climbed up the bed, Frankie on your left and Santiago on your right.

Both men propped themselves up on their elbows, studying your flushed, satisfied face. Their cocks were rock hard, but they took their time, caressing your skin softly. “You alright, mi amor?” Frankie asked gently, trailing fingers through your hair. Santiago leaned in to kiss your shoulder.

“Not scared off yet?“ Santiago joked softly, his fingers trailing down your stomach possessively.

You laughed softly, making both men smile. “No,” you admitted. “This is... surprisingly hot.” You bit your lip again, making Santiago growl.

“Spread your legs again, baby,” Santiago's command was low and rumbling, his eyes locked onto yours.

As you complied, spreading your thighs, Frankie positioned himself between your legs, running his hands up your inner thighs possessively. “Lift your legs up, hermosa” Frankie instructed, his voice firm and demanding.

You lifted your legs, wrapping them around his waist instinctively. In response, he wrapped his arms under your knees, lifting them higher and spreading you wide open. The position was vulnerable, yet incredibly turned on. Santiago leaned in, his hand joining Frankie's to hold your legs apart.

“Fuck, you look so sexy like this,” Frankie growled, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. Santiago leaned down to kiss you, his fingers digging into your thighs, holding you steady. “We're going to fuck you together, baby,” he murmured against your lips.

With a single thrust, Frankie pushed into you, his thick length filling you completely. You gasped into Santiago's mouth, your body stretching to accommodate him. At the same time, Santiago guided his own cock to your lips, pressing the head against your mouth. “Open your little mouth, baby,” Santiago cooed softly, guiding his cock into your mouth. You took him greedily, moaning around his shaft as Frankie began to move inside you, his hips thrusting slowly and deeply. The simultaneous sensations of being filled in both your mouth and your pussy were intense.

“Oh fuck, she's so tight,” Frankie groaned, picking up the pace of his thrusts. His hands tightened on your legs as he drove into you harder, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. Santiago matched his rhythm, fucking your mouth with long, deep strokes.

Tears streamed down your face as you struggled to take both men, your body overwhelmed with pleasure and slight discomfort. Santiago wiped away your tears gently with his thumb before pushing it into your mouth alongside his shaft. “Take it all, baby, I know you can,” he panted, his voice strained with effort.

You managed to relax your throat, taking Santiago deeper. He growled approvingly, his hips snapping forward faster. Frankie watched, his eyes darkening with lust. He released one of your legs, snaking his hand down to rub your clit, making you moan loudly around Santiago's shaft.

“Jesus Christ,” Santiago hissed as your moan vibrated against his cock. Frankie continued circling your clit expertly, making your pussy tighten around him.

The room filled with the sound of wet skin slapping against skin, soft moans muffled by Santiago's thick length in your mouth.

“Gonna come soon,” Frankie panted, his fingers moving faster on your clit. “Want to fill this tight little pussy up.” He looked at Santiago. “You close too, buddy?” Santiago nodded, his thrusts becoming more erratic. “Fuck yeah. She's got the best mouth.”

“Come for us, baby,” Frankie commanded, pinching your clit hard. The sudden jolt of pain mixed with intense pleasure pushed you over the edge. You came with a muffled scream, your pussy convulsing around Frankie's cock, your throat convulsing around Santiago's.

“Shit!” Frankie hissed, his thrusts losing rhythm as your orgasm milked his shaft.

“She's gonna make me come.” Santiago groaned, his hips snapping forward harshly. “Swallow baby. Swallow it when I come... Only the way you know” He warned, his voice hoarse with need.

As if on cue, both men came almost simultaneously. Frankie's hot cum filled your pussy, dripping out around his thick shaft. Meanwhile, Santiago held your head still as he unloaded his own hot, sticky load into your throat. You gagged slightly but obediently swallowed every drop.

Both men slumped forward, draping their bodies over yours as they tried to catch their breath. Frankie's cock slipped out of your pussy with a wet pop, cum leaking out. Santiago stroked your cheek affectionately, his semi-hard cock slipping from your lips. “Fuck that was hot, baby,” Santiago whispered, his thumb gently wiping the corner of your mouth.

Frankie, still propped up on his elbows, leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss on your shoulder. “You okay, hermosa?” Frankie asked, his voice husky from exertion.

You whimpered softly, snuggling closer to the warmth of their bodies. Frankie chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist possessively. “She always gets like this after,” He murmured to Santiago.

Santiago smiled, cradling you against his chest. “I know. Like a kitten,” Santiago laughed softly, nuzzling your neck. “You get all snuggly and whiny, baby.”

Frankie watched as your body went boneless and docile, your eyes half-lidded with satisfaction.

“What are we gonna do after this?” You asked a little bit worried at how things flew. Now they both knew you used to date them at the same time and deep down it hurt you that everything must change now.

“What do you want to do, hermosa?” Frankie asked seriously, his playfulness gone. He sat up, his abs tightening. “You wanna make this a regular thing? Or was this a one-time thing?” He watched your face carefully. Santiago mirrored Frankie's serious expression, waiting for your answer.

“Honestly, I don't know” You hesitated.

“You're not sure if you want to have sex with two guys again?” Santiago asked carefully, his voice unreadable. “Or you're not sure if you want this to be a thing?” He added when you didn't answer immediately. Frankie watched your face closely, his expression unclosing.

“Is it because society might judge us?” Frankie asked softly, his voice gentle. “Or is it because you're not sure about us, personally?” He searched your eyes. “We can keep this a secret if you want, but we both really like you, hermosa. This isn't just about the sex for us. You know that.”

Just as the silence lingered, the iconic strains of Two Princes by Spin Doctors began to play from the stereo, its upbeat rhythm filling the room. You all paused, and then, with a shared chuckle, recognized the ironic coincidence of the song choice. A song about two men competing for the love of one woman—how fitting for the moment. You laughed at the absurdity of it all, knowing that the universe had an odd sense of humor.

(dividers by @saradika-graphics)

#tbr #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #santiago garcia #triple frontier

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theewokingdead · 1 month ago

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Alright, I know one of you have written it already. Where is it? 😂

late night drive and a backseat fuck

#pedro pascal #joel miller

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theewokingdead · 1 month ago

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I'm happy to announce that I'm reviving the Benny series I started, Timing is Everything, inspired by the music of Garrett Hedlund. I want it to follow the format of a modern day romance novel. I've changed the perspective to 1st person POV. The FMC now has a name, but she will have limited descriptions in hopes of keeping her relatable. I'm very excited to work on this!

Timing is Everything - Benny Miller x OFC Series

Timing Is Everything Series

Pairing: Benjamin "Benny" Miller x OFC

Turn on notifications from @theewokingdeadwrites to be notified when I update content.

Summary: One year after the failed mission in Colombia that changed his life forever, former MMA fighter Benny Miller returns to his quiet hometown of Red Feather Lakes, Colorado, hoping to rebuild his life in a way that doesn’t involve fighting. With the weight of his past still haunting him, Benny turns to songwriting and singing – a secret way to express the pain, loss, and dreams he's kept buried. But he's never shared his music with anyone, not even the people closest to him. That is, until he meets Olivia.

Olivia is a dedicated coffee shop owner who’s struggling to keep her late parents’ dream alive amidst the mounting pressure of debt and uncertainty. With little time for anything other than work, Olivia doesn’t expect to find love - especially not in the form of the brooding, talented man who seems to pop into her life at the most unexpected moments.

As Benny’s haunting lyrics begin to pour out and Olivia’s heart starts to open, their unlikely connection grows stronger. But as both are forced to confront their pasts and face the challenges of a life neither of them planned, they’ll have to decide if they can trust each other enough to write a future together.

Inspired by Garrett Hedlund's music.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content: PTSD, angst, broody Benny, slow burn?, soulmates, anxiety attacks, smut (I'll update more as they come)

Entries

Prologue - BENNY (COMING SOON!)

Chapter 1 - BENNY (COMING SOON)

Chapter 2 - OLIVIA (COMING SOON)

Chapter 3 - BENNY (COMING SOON)

Original Version of Chapter One

Playlist

#benny miller #benjamin benny miller #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund fanfiction #garrett hedlund characters #triple frontier fan fiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #catie writes

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theewokingdead · 1 month ago

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I'm just out here spending my Sunday doing the Lord's work 😂

Heaven Can Wait - Francisco "Catfish" Morales x f!Reader

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x f!Reader Summary: Frankie wakes up after a night of drinking to find himself in a strange woman's bed. As he grapples with his post-Colombia demons, the stranger beside him offers something unexpected: patience, understanding, and maybe even a reason to live. Word Count: 1.7k POV: 1st person (Frankie) Rating: Explicit Content: Substance abuse and addiction, loss/grief, strong language, sexual content, vomiting, happy ending (because Frankie deserves it) A/N: Inspired by Hozier’s “Work Song.”

Masterlist I stare into my nearly empty beer bottle, hoping it'll reveal answers to my mistakes, though I know it won't.

It's day three of this relentless bender. My hand shakes as I raise my drink, and I can't tell if it's the coke wearing off or the crushing weight of my reality. Tom is gone. My fiancé left. I've driven away everyone who once mattered to me. They’ve moved on. Yet here I am, caught in this destructive loop, questioning whether I want to break free or if this might be the time I don't wake up.

“You look like you could use some company.”

I blink through the haze and find a woman sliding onto the stool beside me. She’s smirking, a little amused, a little intrigued, but there’s something else behind her eyes. Recognition, maybe. Like she’s seen this type of misery before.

I scoff. My chest feels tight, like the weight of her gaze is pressing down on me. “Company doesn’t fix anything.”

“True… But it can distract,” she replies lightly, spinning the bottle in front of me.

Her offer lingers in the air like a half-remembered song, familiar yet out of reach. I glance at the bartender and wave him down. “Another for me. And one for the lady.”

The next thing I know, it's morning. There's a woman on top of me, asleep. A mixture of emotions swirls within me - an unexpected warmth mingled with uncertainty. I'm still inside her, and I can't tell if I'm more comforted or unsettled by the situation.

"Shit," I croak, my throat dry and voice raspy.

Her eyelids flutter open, revealing wide, startled eyes. "Oh… shit," she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper.

We lie there frozen as the weight of the moment sinks in.

My head pounds, my stomach churns, and the realization that I have absolutely no memory of how we got here slams into me like a truck.

"I’m going to be sick," I blurt.

"What…?"

I shove her off—gently, or at least as gently as a man about to puke can—and nearly face-plant off the bed before stumbling toward the bathroom. I barely make it before I drop to my knees and empty whatever’s left of my dignity into the toilet.

Between retches, I hear movement behind me—the rustling of sheets, then footsteps. The bathroom door opens with a creak, followed by the sound of water running. A cool washcloth is gently pressed against the back of my neck.

I flinch, surprised, but don’t push her away. The sensation is grounding, something solid in the middle of the nausea. I should be embarrassed. Hell, I am embarrassed. But she doesn’t say anything - just crouches beside me, her hand light on my back as I ride it out. Her calmness makes it a little less humiliating.

"Jesus," I mutter once I can breathe again, wiping my face with the damp cloth.

She snorts. "Not quite, but thanks."

I groan, pressing my forehead against the cold porcelain.

“You good?”

“Define good.”

She laughs softly. “Well, you're not dead, so… that's something.”

I snort weakly, flushing the toilet, washing away the evidence of my sins. When I sit back against the wall, I notice she’s slipped on a robe. At least she has the luxury of some damn decency.

She disappears for a moment, giving me time to look around the room, taking in how bare everything is. The walls are plain. The counter around the sink is mostly empty. It’s clear she’s still getting settled.

"Here," she says, returning with a towel and tossing it at me. "You might want to cover up. I mean, you’re not bad to look at, but…"

I blink, then glance down.

Right. Still naked.

Muttering a thanks, I wrap the towel around my waist. She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with a smirk.

“Congrats on winning most awkward morning-after experience ever, by the way.”

Fuck. Me. I scrub a hand down my face.

“Thanks,” I say dryly, attempting a smile but failing miserably. “I’ll get a trophy to commemorate the occasion.”

She chuckles. “Please do. I’d love to see you display that on a bookshelf.”

I can’t help but crack a smile at her teasing - there’s something infectious about it. Maybe it’s the relief of not having to face this alone, or perhaps just the sheer absurdity of our situation. “I’m Frankie, by the way.”

She tells me her name, and it's just as pretty as I had imagined it would be. A surge of frustration hits me. How could I possibly forget something so beautiful, so sweet?

I guess that’s what happens when you drown your brain in alcohol and grief.

A pause settles between us. Not quite awkward, not quite comfortable. Just…something different.

Then it hits me. A flicker. A flash.

Low lamplight. The sound of her breathing against my ear. The way she moved - slow and gentle, like she actually cared. Like it wasn’t just sex, not just another body in a long line of bad decisions.

I thought it was a dream.

Even now, head splitting open, stomach still churning, I almost convince myself it was. That I didn’t pull her into me like she was the first thing in a long time that felt real. That I didn’t whisper the words that slipped past my lips, aching and raw, confessions I didn’t dare say out loud when sober. But in the haze of that dim room, it felt easy - like she could see the parts of me I tried so hard to hide.

“Listen, about last night-” I start, but she cuts me off with a raised hand.

“Let’s just take it one awkward moment at a time, okay?”

I nod.

"I should probably get dressed," I mumble, shifting uncomfortably on my knees. The towel slips a bit, and I grab it tighter, half-dreading the moment when I'll have to stand up and face whatever judgment lingers in her eyes.

“Or,” she suggests, “you could just take a second and breathe. We’ve all got our demons, Frankie.”

I look up at her. The amusement from earlier has faded; there’s something softer now, like she knows how fragile I am beneath this façade of bravado and bad choices.

“And we all deserve a fresh start.”

"A fresh start," I echo, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. It’s a phrase I’ve clung to in moments of desperation, yet it feels hollow now, like a promise long broken.

She raises an eyebrow, the smirk returning. “You don’t sound convinced.”

I meet her gaze, trying to decipher her. “Yeah, well… fresh starts are usually just a nicer way of saying you’ve messed up so badly you need to wipe the slate clean.”

“True,” she replies. “But sometimes it’s not about wiping the slate. It’s about what you choose to write next.” She extends a hand. “And you don’t always have to write it alone.”

I hesitate. Guilt gnaws at me. I want to tell her everything, to spill out all the secrets and shame I carry like stones in my pockets. I expect her to ask me about my life, my choices - what brought me to this point of self-destruction. Bu it doesn’t come. She doesn’t prod. She doesn’t ask a thing. Not about Tom. Not about what I’ve done. Not about why I’m trying so hard to drown myself in whiskey and coke. Everyone else has, but she just waits.

Something in her eyes pulls me in, a quiet strength that feels like an anchor amid my stormy chaos. I take her hand, tentative at first, and she helps me to my feet, steadying me as the world tilts slightly. Her grip is firm, warm, and for the first time in a long time, I feel something other than shame and regret.

---

Eighteen Months Later

"Fuck, baby," I groan, my grip tightening on her hips as I thrust deeper.

She gasps, back arching, fingers clutching the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Her body trembles around me, heat and silk drawing me in, making me lose myself in her.

"Frankie," she whimpers, breathless.

"I got you, babe," I murmur against her lips. "Always."

A few more thrusts and she’s breaking apart beneath me, and I follow, burying myself deep as I groan into her shoulder.

After, we lie tangled in sweat-damp sheets, her head resting on my chest. The room around us is warm, filled with picture frames holding memories we built together. On our bedside table sits a trophy she gave me as a small gag gift (no pun intended) my last birthday.

Suddenly, she gasps, throws the sheet around herself, and bolts for the bathroom.

I hear it - the unmistakable sound of vomiting.

Instantly, I’m up, pulling on my boxers before following her. Dropping behind her, I sweep her hair back, my hand rubbing slow circles on her back as she rides it out. It’s eerily familiar, but this time, something’s different.

"Well…" I smirk when she’s finished. "This is familiar."

She groans but leans into me. “Yeah, well, it’s a little different this time.” She wipes her mouth with a washcloth I hand her, looking both sheepish and exhausted.

I chuckle softly, tracing my fingers along her spine, the warmth of her skin radiating beneath my touch. "How so?" I ask, leaning close enough to catch the faint scent of vomit mixed with her floral shampoo.

"For one, I didn't wake up with some strange man inside me," she says with a playful smirk.

I chuckle. “As your husband,” I reply, raising an eyebrow with a teasing grin, "I’d be very concerned if you had.”

“Secondly, we actually planned for this,” she says, a hint of a smile breaking through her weariness. “I mean, not the throwing up part, but you know…”

I exhale slowly, the weight of her words settling over me. Planned. This isn’t just a temporary escape from our pasts - it’s the future we chose. The future we built.

I press my forehead against hers, my hands cradling her face as a slow, contented smile spreads across my lips.

A year and a half ago, I thought my story had already ended. That I was living on borrowed time, waiting for the inevitable crash. But here, in this moment, with her? I know now…

Heaven can wait.

Because I’ve already found mine.

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theewokingdead · 1 month ago

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Heaven Can Wait - Francisco "Catfish" Morales x f!Reader

Masterlist I stare into my nearly empty beer bottle, hoping it'll reveal answers to my mistakes, though I know it won't.

“You look like you could use some company.”

I scoff. My chest feels tight, like the weight of her gaze is pressing down on me. “Company doesn’t fix anything.”

“True… But it can distract,” she replies lightly, spinning the bottle in front of me.

Her offer lingers in the air like a half-remembered song, familiar yet out of reach. I glance at the bartender and wave him down. “Another for me. And one for the lady.”

"Shit," I croak, my throat dry and voice raspy.

Her eyelids flutter open, revealing wide, startled eyes. "Oh… shit," she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper.

We lie there frozen as the weight of the moment sinks in.

My head pounds, my stomach churns, and the realization that I have absolutely no memory of how we got here slams into me like a truck.

"I’m going to be sick," I blurt.

"What…?"

"Jesus," I mutter once I can breathe again, wiping my face with the damp cloth.

She snorts. "Not quite, but thanks."

I groan, pressing my forehead against the cold porcelain.

“You good?”

“Define good.”

She laughs softly. “Well, you're not dead, so… that's something.”

I snort weakly, flushing the toilet, washing away the evidence of my sins. When I sit back against the wall, I notice she’s slipped on a robe. At least she has the luxury of some damn decency.

"Here," she says, returning with a towel and tossing it at me. "You might want to cover up. I mean, you’re not bad to look at, but…"

I blink, then glance down.

Right. Still naked.

Muttering a thanks, I wrap the towel around my waist. She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with a smirk.

“Congrats on winning most awkward morning-after experience ever, by the way.”

Fuck. Me. I scrub a hand down my face.

“Thanks,” I say dryly, attempting a smile but failing miserably. “I’ll get a trophy to commemorate the occasion.”

She chuckles. “Please do. I’d love to see you display that on a bookshelf.”

She tells me her name, and it's just as pretty as I had imagined it would be. A surge of frustration hits me. How could I possibly forget something so beautiful, so sweet?

I guess that’s what happens when you drown your brain in alcohol and grief.

A pause settles between us. Not quite awkward, not quite comfortable. Just…something different.

Then it hits me. A flicker. A flash.

I thought it was a dream.

“Listen, about last night-” I start, but she cuts me off with a raised hand.

“Let’s just take it one awkward moment at a time, okay?”

I nod.

“Or,” she suggests, “you could just take a second and breathe. We’ve all got our demons, Frankie.”

I look up at her. The amusement from earlier has faded; there’s something softer now, like she knows how fragile I am beneath this façade of bravado and bad choices.

“And we all deserve a fresh start.”

"A fresh start," I echo, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. It’s a phrase I’ve clung to in moments of desperation, yet it feels hollow now, like a promise long broken.

She raises an eyebrow, the smirk returning. “You don’t sound convinced.”

I meet her gaze, trying to decipher her. “Yeah, well… fresh starts are usually just a nicer way of saying you’ve messed up so badly you need to wipe the slate clean.”

“True,” she replies. “But sometimes it’s not about wiping the slate. It’s about what you choose to write next.” She extends a hand. “And you don’t always have to write it alone.”

---

Eighteen Months Later

"Fuck, baby," I groan, my grip tightening on her hips as I thrust deeper.

"Frankie," she whimpers, breathless.

"I got you, babe," I murmur against her lips. "Always."

A few more thrusts and she’s breaking apart beneath me, and I follow, burying myself deep as I groan into her shoulder.

Suddenly, she gasps, throws the sheet around herself, and bolts for the bathroom.

I hear it - the unmistakable sound of vomiting.

"Well…" I smirk when she’s finished. "This is familiar."

She groans but leans into me. “Yeah, well, it’s a little different this time.” She wipes her mouth with a washcloth I hand her, looking both sheepish and exhausted.

"For one, I didn't wake up with some strange man inside me," she says with a playful smirk.

I chuckle. “As your husband,” I reply, raising an eyebrow with a teasing grin, "I’d be very concerned if you had.”

“Secondly, we actually planned for this,” she says, a hint of a smile breaking through her weariness. “I mean, not the throwing up part, but you know…”

I exhale slowly, the weight of her words settling over me. Planned. This isn’t just a temporary escape from our pasts - it’s the future we chose. The future we built.

I press my forehead against hers, my hands cradling her face as a slow, contented smile spreads across my lips.

A year and a half ago, I thought my story had already ended. That I was living on borrowed time, waiting for the inevitable crash. But here, in this moment, with her? I know now…

Heaven can wait.

Because I’ve already found mine.

#frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie x reader #frankie x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #frankie #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales smut #catie writes #Spotify

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theewokingdead · 2 months ago

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"getting laid" is very hot and sexy. "getting off"? great news as well. so you would think "getting laid off" would be wonderful news for your penis. but alas

#benergy

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theewokingdead · 2 months ago

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Me at any given moment

#lmao #pedro pascal #javier peña #narcos

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theewokingdead · 2 months ago

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Stick to the Script - Benny Miller x f!Reader

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!Reader Summary: A struggling romance writer finds herself stuck on a steamy scene—until her charming, infuriatingly gorgeous roommate, Benny, offers an unconventional solution: roleplaying. What starts as a hilarious, over-the-top reenactment quickly turns into something neither of them expected. Word Count: 1.6k Rating: Mature Content: Language, Comedy, Roommates to Lovers, Banter, Slow Burn, Teasing, Benny being goofy AF A/N: Absolutely inspired by @musings-of-a-rose’s writing tactics.

Masterlist I am one deleted paragraph away from throwing my laptop out the window.

I groan and rub my temples, glaring at the half-finished chapter on my screen. The scene isn’t working. The chemistry is flat. Here I am, a self-proclaimed romance writer, yet I can’t describe two people having sex without it sounding mechanical and awkward. Maybe I’m not cut out for this after all.

“Everything okay?”

Sighing, I push my chair back and swivel toward the door. There stands Benny, my roommate, casually leaning against the doorframe with an effortless grace he always seems to have. His tousled hair catches the light just right, and his eyes sparkle with amusement. Damn, he's gorgeous.

I manage a weak smile then offer a quick shrug. “Just battling my inner critic. You know, the usual.”

Benny steps inside, his gaze landing on the papers scattered across my desk. “Anything I can help with?”

I stiffen as he picks up one of the sheets. It’s too late to stop him now. His eyes widen as he takes in my ridiculous brainstorming method – stick figure drawings, rough and rudimentary, illustrating the erotic scene I’m trying to write.

"Are these...stick figures?" he asks, his voice quivering with suppressed laughter. He tilts the page, studying my atrocious attempt at anatomy.

“It helps me visualize!”

He snorts. “Visualize what? A very confusing game of Twister?” He holds up the page like it’s a prized trophy, and I can’t help but feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Are they…hugging? It looks like a really enthusiastic hug.”

I lunge to snatch the paper, but he jerks it out of reach. "I swear, if you don't put that down..." I warn, half-jokingly.

“Is this a penis or a third arm? Because holy hell that thing could break someone.”

I manage to snatch the paper from his hand. I stick my tongue out at him before plopping back down into my chair.

“I think you need to rethink your approach,” Benny says, still sporting an amused grin. “Maybe consider less... stickiness?”

“It’s a romance novel, Benny,” I say dryly, shoving the paper under the others. “There’s going to be a lot of stickiness.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Fair point.”

I sigh and lean back in my chair.

Benny flops onto my bed, arms crossed behind his head like he’s about to deliver some great wisdom. “Maybe you should try something different.”

“Something different?” I eye him warily. “If you’re just going to suggest I watch porn, I’m throwing you out with my laptop. I’ve already seen more than my fair share.”

“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that last bit and say no, that's not what I was thinking. I was thinking more like…roleplaying.”

I blink. “Roleplaying? You mean act out the scene?”

“Exactly!” He sits up, suddenly animated. “Get into character, feel it out. Maybe it’ll help with the writing. I can be your very willing participant." He shoots me an exaggerated wink.

“Benny…,” I say slowly. God, the things his half-broken wink does to me. It makes me unable to think.

“Clothing stays on, obviously, and if you become too uncomfortable, we stop. I just want to help you figure out how to make things flow naturally." As if his words haven't already tugged at my heart enough, he adds, "I know how much finishing this book means to you.”

I stare at him, searching for any trace of mockery, but all I found is that annoying, irresistible confidence. The idea is absurd. And yet…my stomach flutters. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation. Maybe it's the fact I’ve been harboring feelings for Benny for months, and the thought of getting this close to him, touching him, sends my mind spiraling. Somehow, I find myself nodding.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Benny's eyebrows lift in surprise. He quickly recovers, standing up with a smirk. "Alright. Set the scene for me."

I grab my notes, cheeks burning. “Uh…They’re in her living room.”

"Perfect.” He takes my hand, his grip warm and reassuring, and guides me towards the living room. The soft glow from the streetlights outside casts shadows on the walls. My pulse quickens.

"Now what?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“They’re sitting on the couch, but he pulls her to him and they start out making out. Like… really intensely.”

Benny sinks into the couch and effortlessly pulling me onto his lap. My heart pounds. His fingers lightly trace patterns on my arm, the touch light and teasing, as if we're just two friends sharing a moment. But my skin tingles with an electric charge, my breath catching as if this simple gesture holds a deeper meaning. For me, it does.

"Okay," he murmurs, tilting his head with a slow, deliberate motion. The air thickens with the anticipation of a kiss that never comes. Benny abruptly breaks the tension with a dramatic, “Mwah, mwah, mwah.” Pretend kisses.

Laughter bursts from me. Relief and longing war in my chest.

"What else?" he asks.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. "Um... hands. A lot of hands. Touching, I mean." "Alright. Touch me then. Wherever you want, sweetheart." Fuck. Me.

I lift my hand to his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble. His jaw tightens under my touch. His hands slide over my hips with a deliberate slowness, his fingers lightly brushing against the fabric at the edge of my shirt. My breath hitches in my throat. He has no idea what he is doing to me.

“And now?” he asks, voice huskier now.

I hesitate. "He grinds against her.”

Benny smirks mischievously. "Like this?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with playful intent. He suddenly gyrates beneath me with the enthusiasm of a ridiculous TikTok dance.

I burst into laughter. “No! Not like – Oh my God! Stop it!”

“Oh, yeah, baby. Just like that,” he fake-pants. “You’re gonna make me finish in my pants before I can give you the best weinering of your life.”

I smack his chest, still laughing uncontrollably. “You’re ruining the scene!”

He stops, then gasps melodramatically. “How dare you? I am method acting!”

“Method acting? For the sake of your lovers, I pray you aren't this bad in bed."

He sits up straight, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent lover.”

"Then fucking act like it!"

“Fine. For the sake of art, I will take my role seriously.”

“Good. Because next, he pins her down.”

Benny immediately flips me onto the couch, looming over me. He makes a show of dramatically swooning over me. “Oh, fair maiden, I must ravish thee!” He starts mock-humping, making the worst over-the-top groaning sounds I’ve ever heard.

I wheeze. “Benny, I swear to God-”

“Shh,” he says, placing a finger over my lips to shush me. “Who’s Benny? I am the handsome, broody High Fae king.”

I lose it. Where the hell did he get the idea that I’m writing fantasy? Or does he just know what I’ve been reading lately? “This is a contemporary romance!”

Benny pauses. “Oh. Then I’m the morally gray kidnapper. And you can only call me Daddy.”

“Jesus Christ!” I burst into laughter again, then push him away. “That’s not what’s supposed to happen! Stick to the fucking script!”

He raises his hands defensively, the laughter still dancing in his eyes. “There isn’t a fucking script! I thought we were just winging this.”

I cross my arms, feigning frustration. “Fine. You’re right. Like you said, I need to see where things would naturally go.”

“Just tell me what to do.”

“Well, what would you do with a girl in this situation?”

Benny shrugs casually. “I’d make her beg.”

My breath hitches at his words, a rush of heat flooding my cheeks. “Beg?” I can hardly manage to keep my voice steady. “Beg, yeah. Begging’s good. Make me – her - beg.”

Benny flashes a devilish grin, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Ohhh, I can do that," he says, his voice dripping with confidence. He waggles his eyebrows playfully, and I start to wonder how on earth I found myself in this situation. He leans in, breath warm against my skin. In a deep, ridiculous voice, he purrs, "Say my name, baby."

I snort. “No.”

“Say it.” God, he sounds like a demon, and not a sexy one. He bumps his hips against mine in an exaggerated motion.

I shake my head, trying to keep a straight face. “Absolutely not.”

Benny pouts. “Then I shall hump until morale improves.”

I dissolved into laughter as he returns to his theatrical dry-humping, adding in an exaggerated “Ohhh yeah” like he’s in a bad ‘80s movie.

“Who the hell says ‘shall’?” I gasp.

“Dare you question my dramatic prowess? This is the language of the brooding Fae kings!”

“I’m going to kill you,” I say with a laugh, the words tumbling out between chuckles.

"Oooh. Enemies to lovers?" he teases. There’s a playful glint in his eyes before his movements slow, his grip on my hips tightening just slightly. He inches closer, his breath brushing softly against the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “I was hoping for roommates to lovers.”

Something shifts. The laughter fades. He’s still close, his hands firm on my hips. His smirk falters for just a second.

The air thickens. My pulse thunders. I’ve spent so long pretending I don’t feel this way, covering it with sarcasm and teasing. But right now, there’s no hiding.

Heart hammering, I grab his face and kiss him.

He freezes, eyes wide.

I smirk, though my heart races. “Do you want to keep pretending?”

His voice is low, gravelly. “Not if it means I get more of that.”

I bite my lip. “Are you serious?”

He nods slowly, a soft smile teasing the corners of his mouth. "I’ve always wanted to know what it’d be like to kiss you.”

I let out a shaky breath. “You’re not just saying that for the sake of the scene, are you?”

Benny leans in closer, his forehead almost touching mine. “Nope.”

And then he kisses me for real.

#benny miller #garrett hedlund #benny miller x reader #triple frontier #garrett hedlund characters #benny miller x female reader #garrett hedlund fanfiction #roommates to lovers #idiots in love #catie writes #benny miller x you

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