#The Long and Winding Road | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daddydindjarin · 1 year

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The Long and Winding Road Part V: The Revelation

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no physical description of the Reader given)

Rating: 18+ Explicit, PIV, no protection (wrap it up folks)!

Wordcount: 5169

Summary: An understanding and a talk about feelings, followed by pure action.

A/N: Dividers by @firefly-graphics! Thank you to @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @djarinsbeskar who are my absolute rocks, and looked over this for me about a thousand times while I cried in the corner cause I’m a nervous bean. And thank you as always to my discord besties for encouraging me, and screaming with me over Francisco Morales.

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A bright sun.

Leaves filtering the light, casting shadows on grass that was too green to be real.

A gentle breeze softening the afternoon heat as it danced over your skin.

Frankie leaning against the tree, watching the leaves move with the breeze, and then finding your eyes and smiling somehow brighter than the sun, his arm extending, reaching for your hand.

Your hand passing through his without so much as a whisper of a touch.

Frankie frowns, standing straight. You watch his panic rise, not understanding what was happening. You raise your hand to the sun, watching the light through your now opaque hand, before finding Franking again. Tears burn behind your eyes, and you long to touch him, your hand hovering over his arms. He’s yelling, but no sound escapes him, you can’t hear anything.

Not him, not the leaves, not your own heart beating.

You close your eyes and try to feel the sun one more time before feeling nothing at all.

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The coffee percolating was what pulled you from your dreams (nightmare?) and into the land of the living. You laid under the covers for a few more moments, shaking the dream away, trying not to read too much into it. It was just the alcohol, you told yourself, burying your face deeper into the pillows.

“Good morning,” Frankie called from possibly the bathroom, laughing at your answering groan. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you replied from under the covers, unsure if he heard you. You opened your mouth to ask him if he was hungover too, remembering all the drinks you consumed last night, but in your rewind of the night, you don’t remember Frankie drinking much at all. What you do remember is him taking care of you, him making you drink water, him giving you a ride back to the hotel on his back, and…

And….

Your face burns, recalling how you undressed in front of him, desperate to have his hands on you. The alcohol had made you brave, and you had begged him for more than he was willing to give, a gentleman to his core. You pull the covers tighter over your head, embarrassment flooding your body.

How were you going to face him? Sure, you could just blame it on the alcohol, but it was you making those choices, uninhibited by self-restraint and respect for him. You had just decided on living the rest of your days under these blankets when you felt the bed dip next to you.

“You gonna come out, or are you gonna spend all day under there worrying about something you shouldn’t be worried about?”

You peeked your head out from under the covers, and Frankie was there, giving you a crooked smile, and holding out a glass of water for you. “You need to drink some of this, and then you can have coffee.”

Neither of you moved, guilt clawing at the back of your throat and sitting like a rock in your stomach until it forced itself up and past your lips. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, eyes downcast, tracing the stitching on the blanket. “I’m so sorry that I acted like that.”

Frankie shook his head, looking earnest. “You don’t have to apologize, you’re okay.”

Your cheeks burned, glancing up at his kind face and bright eyes. He was backlit by the morning sun, giving his dark hair a halo of light, making him look like the angel you considered him. You wanted him so badly, your fingers twitching against the blanket. You moved suddenly, throwing the blanket off your legs, and scrambling off the side of the bed.

Frankie jerked, his hands moving in your direction, “Hey, wha-“

“Shower!” You blurted out, pulling at the hem of your shirt. “I’m gonna go shower. Make myself human again.”

You grabbed the first clean looking piece of clothing you could find, refusing to look in Frankie’s direction, but you could feel his eyes on you the entire time. As you slid the bathroom door shut, you snuck a glance in his direction, catching the way his jaw clenched before he disappeared from view.

‘What is wrong with me?’ You thought, stripping down, tossing your sleep mussed clothes into the corner on top of Frankie’s. You turned the water about as hot as it could go, and stood on the cold tile while steam filled the bathroom. Brushing your teeth quickly, you watched yourself in the mirror, glaring at the mascara on your cheeks, hating that this is what Frankie had to see.

Of course, he probably felt bad for you, and like he had to take care of you. Which was something you didn’t want- not from him, not from anyone.

But, you thought, stepping into the burning water, and sighing as your muscles instantly relaxed, Frankie didn’t seem like the type who would just hang around you out of some misguided sense of obligation. He was a good guy, and getting you back to the hotel safe and in one piece was just who he was a person. He’d have done it for a stranger, you were sure, because that’s just who Frankie was. Plain and simple, he was good.

You could write off part of last night, but what about everything else? The way he paid attention to how you liked your tea in the morning and afternoon, always preferring that to coffee.

The way he had picked up on your medication time frame, and would check that you hadn’t forgotten to take it as you were wont to do. He wouldn’t have spent time learning these small things about you if it was just him being good. Wouldn’t have picked you up from the side of the road, or bandaged your knee. Wouldn’t have touched you so tenderly, like you were a precious stone, easy to break, but put back together with a band-aid and kiss.

Wouldn’t have turned you down when he had the opportunity to lean into your booze filled decisions, or said the things he did.

You mulled this revelation over, feeling your heart beat a pattern that would match the beat Frankie’s fingers would drum on the steering wheel. You still had reservations about your feelings, but Frankie made it so easy to care for him. He was kind, and genuine, putting your feelings and needs above his own, even when you wished he wouldn’t. He was respectful, and had proven time and time again that he wasn’t one to take advantage of you. Would it really be so bad to let him in? To share yourself with him completely for however long the two of you had left?

The water started cooling, and you turned it off, quickly drying yourself off and pulling on your clothes- a pair of sweatpants and a Tampa Bay Titans t-shirt that definitely belonged to Frankie, that you grabbed by accident. You could throw on your sleep shirt again, but Frankie’s scent soothed your frayed nerves, so you slipped it on, breathing deeply and sliding open the door, met with the sight of Frankie still sitting where you left him, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His jaw clenched and unclenched, and when he finally met you, you watched his eyes visibly darken, his tongue running across his lower lip, drawing your eyes to trace its path, wishing it was your own.

He was silent for a beat, and then asked, “Did you mean it?”

“What?” You replied, your eyes darting up to meet his. There was a fire behind his eyes, and you were frozen, unable to move as he continued.

“You said that you wanted me last night,” he replied, his gaze steady, never wavering from your own. “Did you mean that? I’m not going to be upset if that’s not the case, or anything like that. I get what it’s like not being in your right state of mind, and just saying things. But I need to know if you meant it.”

You straightened, your fingers clenched, nerves lighting up with anxiety. “I meant it Frankie. I meant every word.” Watching his face closely for any sign of disgust, or pity. “I’ve felt this way for the last few weeks, if we’re being honest.”

Frankie grinned and stood, coming to a stop in front of you in two large steps. “I felt it too,” he said in a low voice, his fingers grazing your hand where it hung by your side. “Probably since the first day.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, anticipation mounting. You knew there was still a lot you needed to say, more you needed to think about but right now? Right now nothing else mattered except Frankie and the way he was looking at you. “Frankie?” you murmured, turning your hand to link your fingers together loosely, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah?” he responded, his eyes moving down to your mouth, and you resisted the urge to bite your lip.

“If I asked you to kiss me right now, what would you do?”

“Well,” he said, his hand coming up to rest at the back of your neck, squeezing the sensitive skin there slightly. “I’d probably have to kiss you, if you asked me nicely.”

“Frankie?” You were a hair’s breadth away from him, watching the storm rage in his eyes, his eyes so dark there was very little brown left.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me?”

The words had barely left your mouth, and his lips were on yours, soft but insistent in the way they molded to you. He smelled like sleep and sun, and you breathed in against him as you pulled away for air for just a moment, before you came crashing back together. His tongue brushed your bottom lip and you opened for him, not able to stop the whimper that fell from your lips.

Frankie groaned at the sound, his other hand gripping your waist and pulling you closer, until you were flush against him, every inch of you touching him, your hands buried in his curls, and gently tugging. Everything seems to come to a halt around you, and you didn’t care if you were struck by lightning at that moment, as long as Frankie kept kissing you.

His lips moved to your jaw, peppering kisses along it, nipping at your chin. Your head tilted to the side, giving him unfettered access to your neck. He seized the opportunity and lavished his attention there, his fingers at your back finding your skin under your thin sleep shirt, firm in their quest to pull you closer to him. He felt like fire and ice at once, lighting you up from the outside as he made you shiver, his kisses more insistent with every sigh that he pulled from you.

His hands on your hips pulled you with him as he started walking backwards, pulling you with him towards the bed, but refusing to halt in kissing you. His knees hit the mattress and he stumbled back, sitting down heavily, and you laughed softly as he looked up at you, almost pouting that he had to stop kissing you. “C’mere, baby,” he murmured, pulling you down to straddle his thighs.

Your knees rested on the mattress on either side of his legs, hovering over him slightly, worried to put too much weight down on him. Frankie was having none of that, his large hands spreading across your ass and groping you, practically spreading you for him from behind. You gasped, pushing your ass back into his hands as he pushed you down against him while his hips jerked upwards to meet him. You dropped your hips, grinding against his growing bulge, clinging to him for all you were worth. The friction against your clit wasn’t nearly enough to do anything but make your pussy weep, your underwear a causality in your desperation for this man. His arms banded around your waist, helping you move against him as he sucked a bruise on your collarbone.

“Fuck baby,” he gasped out, his hips jerking under you. You whined in response, tugging firmly on his curls to get his mouth back on yours. He evaded your lips, his nose instead nudging against yours gently, and you slowed down, your hips slowly rolling against him.

“Feels good,” you whispered, dragging your mouth along his patchy beard, placing a kiss at a heart shaped bare patch that you had been obsessed with for a while. “I may have gotten over-excited.”

“No, Hermosa, don’t apologize for feeling good,” he said, his hands rubbing up and down your back. “I just want to savor you. Want to take my time with you. And if we keep going like this, I’m gonna end up cumming in fuckin’ pants.”

You grinned down at him, hands cupping his cheeks to press a sweet kiss to his mouth. You stayed like that for a few moments, trading kisses like secrets, your hips not stopping their circuit, just enjoying the feeling of his length brushing your core just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Feel what you do to me, Hermosa?” Frankie gasped out, his fingers digging into your hips so hard you were sure they were going to leave bruises. “Need you to lay back.”

He helped to reposition you on your back, pausing to practically rip his shirt off of his back, before he kissed away your pout, and started moving down your body, his fingers feather-light against your skin. He skimmed the neckline of your- his- shirt, his fingers grazing the tops of your breast, and your back arched into his touch, your fingers gripping his arms, your eyes roving over his golden skin. “Please, Frankie…”

“You look good in my clothes, baby. Feel free to wear them any time.” Grinning, he slipped your shirt up and over your head, his fingers coming back to dance along the underside of your breasts. “Goddamn,” he breathed, his mouth finding the stiff peak of your nipple, swirling his tongue around it before sucking harshly and moving to show the same attention to your other one. “Fucking beautiful.”

You blushed, gripping the sheets beneath you, trying to find something to ground you as Frankie mapped his way down your body, dipping his fingers under your sweats. His hands ran up and down your thighs, his eyes catching yours. “Can I take these off, Hermosa?” It sounded like a plea, like a man begging for absolution that only you could give.

Nodding, you lifted your hips so Frankie could pull them off you, throwing them to the floor, and then he sat back and just…looked. You watched his eyes roam every part of you, taking in every mark he’d left on your body so far, his eyes calculating where he still had yet to leave others. His hand stroked the inside of your thighs, pushing gently. “Let me see you, pretty girl.”

You spread your thighs, and he pushed them open farther, far enough to get his broad shoulders between them as he settled on the mattress on his stomach. He pressed a kiss directly to the top of your mound, and then parted your folds with his nose, breathing you in.

“Frankie,” you gasped out, feeling his lips graze softly over your clit, your hips jerking off the bed. His long arms circle your thighs, holding you down and into place as he grumbles against your sensitive skin.

“Need you to stay still for me, Hermosa. Let me taste you,” he licked a stripe up the center of your pussy, his tongue barely dipping inside of you, and then coming back to your clit. He teased around the edges, taking his time, savoring the taste of you, interrupted only by his groans, and praises. Telling you how good you tasted, how perfect you were for him, how badly he wanted you.

And then he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, and you were seeing stars.

You couldn’t have stopped your hips moving if you had tried, reaching the crest of your orgasm faster than you ever had. You rolled your hips against his face, begging him for more, your fingers gripping the sheets so hard you thought they would rip. He drank heavily from the source, your slick and his spit coating your skin and his.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” his voice was thick with want and full of awe. His hand moved to your entrance, your walls giving away easily under the constant pressure of his finger. He pumped in and out slowly, letting you get used to the feeling before adding a second. You leaned into the stretch of him, clenching down when he found that sweet spot inside of you that you could never quite reach with your own fingers, and you practically mewled for him like a cat in heat.

“Fuckin’ use me to get off sweetheart. Sensitive little thing, aren’t you? I barely touched you and you’re gonna come for me again, huh? Gonna fuck yourself on my fingers?”

“Please, please, please,” you pleaded, practically writing under him. He was right, you were quickly approaching a second orgasm, between the way he was expertly playing with your clit with his tongue, his fingers pistoning inside you, and his goddamn voice talking you through your high. “Need you, Frankie. Want you.”

“C’mon, sweetheart, come for me again. Lemme see you come on my fingers.” He didn’t stop moving, but you felt him add a third finger, the stretch burning slightly and you hissed, it turning into a whine as he slowed down slightly. “Gotta get you ready for me baby, need you to come again. Can you do that for me?”

His hand picked up speed again, and he hummed his approval as you humped against his hand, his tongue swirling against your sensitive nub. You felt his teeth graze you, and he pressed up with his fingers inside you and you were done for, cumming so hard you sat up, your abdominal muscles clenching in protest at the onslaught of tension rippling across your body. He didn’t let up, fucking into you faster than it seemed possible till you were gushing around him, and you could just barely hear the obscene sounds of him drinking you down over your pounding heart.

You released the sheets to curl your fingers into his hair, pulling him up and away from your pussy as your sensitivity started to turn to just this side of painful. He pulled his fingers from you slowly, his eyes meeting yours as he greedily stuck them into his mouth to suck the remaining juice from them with a smirk. You laughed, pulling him down to lay fully on top of you, his hand leaving his mouth to reset both of them on either side of your head as he kissed you deeply. You could taste yourself on his lips, heady and tangy, his mustache and chin glistening with your arousal.

You wrapped your tongue around his, taking everything he had to offer and more, determined to show him how much you cared for him, and how appreciative you were in a kiss. Your body was loose, legs shaking, but you were ready for more. You didn’t think you’d ever want less of whatever Frankie wanted to give you. Your hands slid from the back of his neck to skim across his firm chest, marveling at how warm he was, not for the first time. You had joked before that he was a massive space heater, and he felt good against your still shaking hands.

You traced your way down his body as the two of you kissed, and you could feel him, hot and heavy against your thigh. You felt the banded muscles in his arms, and the thickness of his wrist. You dipped into the contours of his back, his skin rippling as he moved above, and you smiled into his mouth- he kissed with his entire body. You razed his sides, making a note of the way he jerked slightly- ticklish?- and lavished attention on his stomach, slightly rounded but firm, a dusting of hair leading down to where you were most interested at this moment in time. You played with his happy trail for a minute, fingers smoothing over the soft hair there, before your hand slipped under his pants and you gently wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock and gently squeeze.

Frankie breathed in deeply through his nose, refusing to leave your lips even as his hips jerked under your hold on him, the restraint he was showing immense. His hips moved ever so slightly as your hand slid to the tip to gather the precum he was dribbling into his underwear, leaving a wet, sticky patch in the fabric of his pants. You fingers were coated in him, and you pumped him slowly, delighting in the way he whimpered into your mouth. You grinned, pulling away for air, and to look at his face, wanting to see the way you were affecting him.

His mouth was open slightly, the tips of his ears red, his eyes hooded and gaze dark as you kept your movements up. He was fucking beautiful, and His breathing was becoming more labored, and you picked up speed, but his hand shot down to grab your wrist, pulling it away from him with a groan. “You’re determined to make me cum in pants, aren’t you?” He panted, and your hands landed firmly on his hips, pushing his pants down as far as you could reach till his cock sprang out, bobbing heavily. Your mouth was practically watering, and you felt the impatience rising, wanting him inside of you now, your trance only broken by a quiet, “ah, shit.”

You looked up at him, his face etched with concern. “What?” you asked, feeling your chest tighten. “Frankie, what’s wrong?”

He sighed, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours. “Baby, I don’t have a condom.”

Gently cupping his cheeks, you kissed him gently, smiling up at him. “It’s okay. I have a birth control implant, and I got tested before we left. Are you clean?”

Frankie nodded, pressing a kiss into your palm. “Got tested about 6 months ago and I haven’t slept with anyone since then.”

You grinned, dropping a kiss on his lips, your hands sliding down to his hips. “Good, that’s settled then.”

Frankie still looked unsure, balancing on one hand to grasp your chin with his other, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Are you one hundred percent sure? You can say no right now, and I’m not going to be upset.”

You laughed, lifting your hips slightly, letting him brush against your wet folds. “Frankie, am I going to have to ask you nicely to fuck me too?”

He chuckled, kissing you softly again, and shaking his head. “I just don’t want to be something you regret.”

He had laughed while saying that, but your heart ached for the honestly behind the seemingly lighthearted words. Someone had once made him feel as though he was something to be ashamed of, something to regret, and you made a silent promise that you would die before ever letting Frankie feel that way with you.

“Frankie, I promise you, this is what I want. I want you, in whatever way you’re comfortable having me. But I would very much like to have you inside me.”

His eyes darkened again, and he kissed you once more, no longer soft and gentle. This was a demanding kiss, and you whined softly as he took himself in hand and started rubbing the fat tip of his cock through your folds, coming to rest against your clit as he slowly rocked there, the head catching on every down stroke. You could feel your breath picking up as he notched himself at your entrance, pushing forward slowly.

The stretch of him was magnificent, the pleasure drowning out the burn from taking his girth. Frankie was massive, and he was taking his time opening you up, watching where he was disappearing inside of you. “Fuck, baby, you’re so goddamn tight.”

He kept moving forward until he was hilted, pausing to give you time to adjust to him inside you. You were already blissed out, so full you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You felt as though you had no control over your body, your back arching slightly from the pleasure. “Frankie, move, please,” you could hear the high litany of your voice pleading with him, and he groaned when you clenched down on him, his voice raspy as he started to move.

“So fucking perfect,” he said, sitting back on his heels for more leverage. It changed the angle enough to push him that much deeper, and you met him thrust for thrust. “So goddamn wet, and tight, and perfect.”

He was babbling now, a never ending stream of filth leaving his mouth as his thrusts got harder, and deeper. You were gushing around his cock, the obscene squelch of your joining only making it that much hotter for you. You could hear yourself begging him for something, but fuck if you knew what for, unable to think of anything beside the way he was making you feel.

You felt him press firmly on your lower abdomen, and you couldn’t stop the shout that left you, your hips bucking under his hand.

“Feel that baby?” he asked, not waiting for your answer, “Can feel my cock all the way up here, fucking you so deep. Gonna keep you on my cock till you can’t take it any more.”

That sounded perfect to you, you thought, your hands reaching for something, anything, and finding his, your fingers linking together as his pace started to falter. He moved his hand from your stomach to rub tight circles on your clit, and you came suddenly, your body seizing around him, clenching against him as your back arched off the bed.

Frankie let out a strangled noise, fucking you through your orgasm, watching you fall over the peak and land in a daze. He was still talking to you, letting you know how beautiful you were, how good you felt, how you were practically sucking him in with how hard you were clenching around him. He wasn’t far behind you, fucking you at a brutual pace, and begging you with a “Where baby? Tell me where to cum. Please, fuck, please tell me.”

“Inside,” you whined, wrapping your legs tightly around his back, your arms reaching up to pull him down to you, “cum inside me, Frankie. Wanna feel you dripping out of me.”

He whimpered, giving you a few more hard thrusts before you felt the hot ropes of his spend burning you from the inside out, his arms shaking from the effort of holding himself above you. You tugged at him gently and he all but collapsed against you, his head resting against your chest as he eased his full body weight down on you, which was exactly what you wanted. Your breaths matched, both chests heaving against the exertion. He was still inside you, the fullness satiating you further, basking in the afterglow. You smoothed the hair back from his sweaty forehead and dropped a kiss to it, brushing another to his nose, and when he tilted his face up to look at you, you softly kissed his lips, the backs of your fingers caressing the high point of his cheek.

The two of you stayed like that until he was soft enough to slip from inside you, your face heating up as you felt him dripping from you and onto the bed sheets. You idly thought that you should have put a towel down, sorry for the housekeepers that were going to have to clean this up after you. Frankie shifted, pushing up and off of you, hovering over your body, his eyes raking over you, and you’d feel embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way his cum was still leaking for your body, something you didn’t think you’d find as hot as you did.

“Shit, Hermosa,” he grunted, watching you squeeze your thighs together to help slow the dribble. “Keep making that face, and we might not leave this bed.”

You laughed, raising your arms to stroke gentle paths up and down your body. “That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea to me, not if you’re in the bed with me.”

He groaned, tearing his eyes away from where your hands cupped your breasts, lifting them towards him slightly in an offering. “Who is this bruja, and what has she done with the sweet girl who was scared to share a bed with me?” He pushed himself off the bed, heading for the bathroom. You heard the water run, and then he was reappearing with a washcloth, the bed dipping under the weight of his knee. His large palm ran up the inside of your leg, and pushed them open, spreading them wide enough to help clean you up, erasing the traces of him from your skin.

“I was nervous about sharing a bed,” you said, your voice catching on your embarrassment, “because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with how much I wanted you. Didn’t want to chase you off.”

Frankie nodded, tossing the washcloth into the corner, and he flopped down next to you, pulling you into the circle of his arms. “Believe it or not, I was worried about the same thing. Been worried about it since Savannah.”

“Really?” You laughed, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest. “I would have never guessed.”

“Really,” he replied, the crinkles by his eyes prominent as he smiled at you. “All those little shorts you got? Thought I was gonna go crazy, you sitting next to me all leg and not being able to touch you.”

You grinned, snuggling into him. “Well, sir, you can touch me as much as you want. I promise I don’t mind.”

“Careful little girl,” he shot back, his arms squeezing just a hair tighter. “Don’t tempt me, or you definitely won’t be leaving this bed.”

Mischief danced across your features as your hand snuck down between you, your fingers finding your still soaked slit. You gathered the moisture on your fingers before cupping him, feeling him starting to harden in your grasp. “Seems like you’re up for the challenge.”

With a growl, he flipped your positions, biting gently at your shoulder as you squealed and laughed with him, happiness settling deep in your stomach.

When housekeeping knocked a few hours later, twin shouts of “We’re okay,” were heard from outside, followed by more laughter and the unmistakable sound of the bed frame knocking against the wall. You didn’t leave the room until well into the afternoon, holding hands as you walked into the French Quarter again.

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#the long and winding road #frankie x reader #frankie catfish morales #Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fiction

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daddydindjarin · 1 year

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The Long and Winding Road Part II: Mississippi

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no physical description of the Reader given)

Rating: 18+ Mature

Wordcount: 2875

Summary: You hit your must see spots in Mississippi, and you fight back every bit of attraction to this broad stranger that you can. It’s a losing battle.

A/N: What can I say, this is wholly self indulgent. And un-beta’d. Lemme know if you see any glaring errors! Dividers by @firefly-graphics! Thank you especially to the discord besties and @the-ginger-hedge-witch for listening to my panic over actually writing something more than a one-shot, and for all the great tips. Especially the road trip ideas.

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Frankie couldn’t figure her out.

He had spent years in the military, interacting with people from all walks of life. From the rich kids following in their parent’s footsteps, to fresh faced kids straight from high school looking for a naïve hope at an opportunity to build a better future than the past they had, most people were the same. They were greedy, self-serving, and usually just bastards with a hidden agenda. He counted himself among them, from the jobs he took for money, to nights spent high on cocaine and the touch of someone who he could pretend he loved for a few hours.

But this woman…

He glanced over at her from the driver’s seat, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly as the first thing he saw were her feet propped up on the dashboard, the long line of her bare legs tucked up to rest her journal on her knees. Her hair was pulled back away from her face so the wind didn’t blow it all over the place, and she was humming along to Stevie Nicks’ dulcet tones crooning from the radio.

They had been traveling for two days, stopping at every whim she had. An afternoon was spent in St. Augustine and Ponte Vedra, touring the light house, and walking the beach. The morning saw them in Savannah, Georgia, eating breakfast along the marshes. True to her word, he paid for nothing, even with a neat $15,000 burning a hole in his pocket. She purchased every meal, snacks, drinks, and even offered to buy souvenirs for Gabriela. The first night, she offered to sleep in the Jeep instead of the popup rooftop tent on the Jeep’s roof, which he turned down almost immediately. They had argued back and forth, with her stubbornly reminding him that he was the one driving, and needed a good night’s sleep, so they finally came to an agreement just to share the small space.

“We’re both adults,” she had said, rifling through the small suitcase in the backseat. “We can share a bed.”

“Yeah,” he agreed finally, realizing her stubbornness would win out in the end, “that’s fine. I’ve slept in worse places.”

She laughed, starting the climb up to the tent, “Careful what you speak into the universe. Maybe I snore, and you’re in for a rough night.”

Frankie barked out a laugh, “I doubt it’ll be worse than some of the guys I’ve bunked down with.”

It was worse.

She didn’t snore, although she did talk in her sleep, trying to have a conversation with no one for the better part of the night. But even that was nothing compared to the way he woke up with her wrapped around him like a lifeline, her face buried in his chest. They had started off back to back, pushed as far to the edges of the pallet as they could get, and sometime between drifting off while talking about their favorite songs, and the sun rising, they had wound up in the center of the tent, his arms wrapped around her, and her leg thrown over his. She had managed to push her covers off of her, but then sought the warmth that Frankie gave off in her sleep.

Frankie had quickly and quietly extracted himself from her hold before scrambling down the ladder, the brisk autumn air doing nothing to calm his heart or other parts of his anatomy that was all too aware that a gorgeous woman was feet away, and had been in close proximity. The shame burned at the back of his neck, but he found himself wanting to return to the tent, and curl back up to sleep in her arms.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since then, even as they were well on their way into Alabama. He chalked it up to proximity and loneliness, only having his hand for company the last few months as he stayed clean, determined to do right by his kid, even if that meant suffering through the withdrawals and the craving to lose himself and his memories in a drug that offered nothing but forgetting and despair at the end of the high.

She, on the other hand, didn’t seem to know about their nighttime encounter. She was happily watching the trees as they drove and would occasionally look down to her journal to scribble something down, a sentence here, a doodle there. He had seen her press a wild flower into the pages in Talladega National Forest, and use it as a coaster for tea in Tuscaloosa. She carried it with her everywhere, fishing it out of her bag for reasons unknown to him, sometimes to scrawl a reminder, and other times spending a few moments writing before smiling up at him, telling him she was ready to move on.

She was an enigma to him, altruistic and kind to everyone they ran into. She really did spend most of her time looking at the things she was interested in, not concerned with taking photos of the view, even as she offered to take his photo for him, which he usually declined, except on the rare occasion he found a chance to send a photo of himself with a giant swordfish in Savannah to Pope, captioned, “finally found the fish you said you had on the line when you pulled that boot.”

He received a middle finger emoji as a response.

He had expected a lot of chatter as they drove, one of the reasons he had tallied in the “con” section of why he should take this job. It ranked fairly low on the list however, and the payload far outweighed any reason he could give to skip out on the opportunity. He was surprised though, when the first six hours had passed only interrupted by her humming, and the occasional request to stop somewhere. It wasn’t as if it was an awkward silence that you can chalk up to being in a confined space with a literal stranger, but instead a comfortable atmosphere where no words were really needed. He didn’t want to think about the fact that this was the most peaceful he had felt in a while, and instead turned the volume up on the radio, tapping his fingers along to Como La Flor.

You had three missed texts from Alyssa, checking in to make sure that Benny’s pilot friend hadn’t actually killed you on day one of the road trip, and you made a mental note to text her back at the next stop. You knew if you tried to read too much while in the car, you’d be hit with a migraine, and you didn’t feel like having Frankie pull over just so you could get sick this early into the trip.

Speaking of Frankie…

You peeked over at him, watching his head bop along to the music, and you could feel the smile straining against your lips as you whipped your head back around to watching the passing trees. It was crazy how attracted to him you were. From his long eyelashes framing those deep puppy dog eyes, to his plump lips that you had to force yourself not to watch as he spoke, you knew that you were quickly developing a crush on him. Which was normal you reminded yourself for the umpteenth time. It was normal to be attracted to someone. It didn’t mean you had to act on it. And there wasn’t a chance of anything happening really. The trip was only three months long, and then you’d be leaving, so it was pointless to even think about romance.

This wasn’t a 90s rom com. This was the trip of a lifetime, and you were going to enjoy the time you had left on it, not spend it worrying about Francisco Morales and his dumb cowlick that he thought was well hidden under that Standard Oil baseball cap.

Passing under the exit sign for Columbus, Alabama, you checked your map again, looking for anything that caught your eyes. “Oh!” you exclaimed, tapping the map. “You should take this exit!”

Frankie imperceptibly turned his head to look at where you were pointing on the map, an eyebrow raised. “Tupelo?”

“Yeah! Have you ever been?”

“Probably passed through there once or twice, but I don’t think we ever stopped,” he replied, rubbing a hand on his jaw. He hadn’t shaved in the last few days, you had noticed, and you wondered what the short whiskers would feel like under your fingers. “Why d’you want to stop there?”

You really didn’t have reason, other than, “I hear they have good honey. And wasn’t Elvis born there?”

Frankie chuckled, but dutifully took the exit onto I-45. “Well, let’s go get you some of that honey, but if you’re wanting to see the king, we need to head to Memphis.”

You made a note on the map, studying it for a moment longer. “I do want to see Memphis, but I think it would be smart, and probably more efficient to hit the south, and then kind of zig zag before heading north?” Your fingers danced in the air, mimicking the zigzag pattern to make your point.

He nodded. “That makes sense. Is there anything on that “must list” of yours for the south that we need to make sure we do?”

He remembered. You beamed at his words, almost laughing that such a small thing could make you so happy. “There are a few, actually.” Tucking loose piece of hair behind your ear, you pulled out your journal, flipping through the pages. “Since we’re heading into Mississippi, I want to check out Rowan Oak. Tishomingo State Park would be nice to visit too. Dunn’s Falls is on the list, but I feel like we might be going around our ass to scratch our elbow with that one.”

Frankie shrugged, glancing over at you. “A little extra mileage never hurt anybody. Besides,” he continued, “if it’s on your “must list,” we must go see it.”

His sincerity was palpable, and you wanted to cry. The one thing you had been dreading with finding a glorified chauffer was that they would talk you out of some of the things you wanted to do because it would be such a long and winding route to see everything on your list. Well, that and possibly being killed before your time, but mostly complaining. Frankie never once complained, following your every whim with good humor. He didn’t ask many questions after your first meeting, which you appreciated more than you could say. Like you said, the whys weren’t important now. It was just the doing that mattered.

“Thank you,” you finally said, looking back out the window so he wouldn’t see if any stray tears made their way down your cheeks.

You didn’t see his answer nod, or the way the tips of his ears turned pink as you headed toward Tupelo.

Tupelo had seen them to honey and biscuits, as well as a stop at the birthplace of Elvis. You had convinced Frankie to take a picture touching the statue’s hand like a crying teenage girl, which he did with a roll of his eyes, but you know he sent the picture to someone in his phone named “Pope.”

You wound your way across the state to Rowan Oak, your heart fluttering at the smell of Cedar in the air as you and Frankie walked along the grounds. You got lost in the concentric garden, finding the large magnolia in the center an hour later, taking a break under the sprawling branches for a few moments.

“How old do you think this tree is?” you asked, your eyes closed as you leaned against the tree, the bark digging into your back, and the sound of birds nesting in the trees lulling you into a calmness.

“Dunno,” Frankie said from his spot beside you, shoulders touching just enough that you could feel the burn of him. “Doubt they’d let us cut it down to count the rings.”

You snorted. “No, I don’t think they would. William Faulkner would roll over in his grave if they did.” The silence stretched comfortably between you, and you closed your eyes again, the humid air making you sleepy. You may have drifted off under that old tree, because when you blinked your eyes open, Frankie was standing to the side of the trail, and there was a fresh Magnolia bloom in your lap. You smiled softly, taking a petal and pressing it into your journal before joining him, letting him lead the way out of the maze.

You headed back towards Tupelo that night, stopping just outside the city to bunk down, before driving the few hours to Tishomingo. He groaned good naturedly as you pulled on your hiking boots, and followed you onto the trail, but the beauty of the landscape stopped even his joking about the early morning dew. You found ruins and old bridges leading to long abandoned cabins, and Frankie told you of a time he spent overseas in a similar looking abandoned house with his team, and how Benny and Will went through a wall play fighting each other. Your peals of laughter probably scared the local wildlife away, but you didn’t mind, happy to just be privy to stories from Frankie’s past.

You ate lunch beside a waterfall, drinking your tea cold for a lack of hot water. You didn’t mind, to tell the truth, but the face Frankie made assured you he wouldn’t be partaking. He had been eyeing the water for a while now, sweat beading on your foreheads. You stood, slipping your boots and socks off, and he looked up at you, an eyebrow raised. “Whatcha doin?”

Grinning, you took off at a run for the edge pool of water, leaping into it. A shout of alarm went up behind you, drowned out by the rush of water going over your head. You could still hear the roar of the waterfall dumping into the basin above you, and when you popped out of the water taking a gulp of air, Frankie stood on the shore, hands on his hips staring down at you.

“What are you doing?”

You laughed kicking your feet out under you. “Living!” You swam in a circle, sighing at the cool water. “Come in!”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so, Chiflada!”

You pouted, “Oh, come on, Francisco! The water feels great!” You pushed your arm forward, splashing him with water, and he yelped, jumping back. “Don’t be such a chicken!”

Frankie laughed, wrenching his shirt over his head, “Oh, you asked for it!” He lunged into the water and you reeled back, screaming in delight as his long arms reached for you. You danced out of his reach, splashing him with water as you went. Frankie roared at you, pushing forward in the water to wrap his arms around you. You pushed at his chest, squealing, and laughing as his fingers danced along your ribs. His laughter rumbled through his chest and rippled across your skin, lighting up his face.

“I give, I give!” you laughed, spluttered around the hair in your face. “You’re King of the Water!”

“Damn right,” he replied, grinning at you, and you suddenly realized how close the two of you were, chest to chest, only your clothes between you. You were acutely aware of the cold water pebbling your nipples against his chest, and you felt your face heating up from the proximity of this broad man. He was looking at you, his eyes soft, and you could feel yourself internally panicking.

He could sense your trepidation, and slowly released you, his kind eyes catching yours as you backed away from him, breathing hard. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, “I’m fine. Just out of breath.” The lie came easily enough, and you hid behind and easy grin. “Told you the water felt nice though.”

Groaning, he leaned back slightly, looking up at the waterfall, “Yeah, but now we have to hike back to the Jeep in wet clothes. And it’s still hot.”

“Come on, Fly Boy, where’s your sense of adventure?” You questioned him, thanking everything that your racing heart was starting to come under control.

“Trust me, Chiflada, I’ve had enough adventures to last a lifetime.”

You mulled over his words, pulling yourself out of the water and then offering him your hand. “Well, that may be true, but you’ve never had one with someone like me.”

He took your hand, squeezing it gently as he pulled himself up next to you, close enough again for you to see the freckles across his strong nose. “No,” he agreed, speaking softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like you.”

You blushed, turning away quickly to gather your things, your heart rate picking up again. You’d think about this more later, when the night was still, and the clothes you were wearing were hung on a line to dry in the hot Mississippi night air. When you’d be able to feel him at your back, and for the first time regret the short time you had left.

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#the long and winding road #tlawr #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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