#fracisco morales x reader

[wrappedinthemilkyway]

Wet

Pairing: Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Reader

Summary: You and Frankie both need to be up early the next day but Frankie's been thinking about you.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, pure filthy smut no plot, established relationship, dirty talk, subby Frankie (but he has his moments), switch Frankie and switch reader (kinda), creampie, squirting, dry humping, cumming in clothing, petnames (some in Spanish), riding, SLIGHT anal and wedgie play (blink and you'll miss it), bit of nipple play, dacryphilia / crying during sex, praise (like, an obscene amount of it)

Word count: 2.5k

a/n: i'm ovulating, sorry :/

It had started off innocent, holding each other as you attempted to fall asleep. You’d both decided to head to bed earlier than usual, needing to be up early the next day.

But you and Frankie couldn’t sleep.

You’d started kissing. Small pecks at first, smiles between them, a declaration of love and a way of pouring that love into the other. But then Frankie cupped your face, holding it gently in place as he started pressing deeper kisses onto your lips, keeping them against each other longer. 

“Frankie.” You’d tried to warn, his name falling from your lips in half-reprimand. 

“Just wanna kiss you like this, baby. I’ll be good, I promise.” He whispered against your lips. His raspy voice shot right through your body, a tightness forming in your core that you knew you’d be unable to stop. 

He kept up his kisses until they became sloppier, tongues circling, teeth grazing and pulling at each other’s lips. You sighed into his mouth, pressing your body even closer into him, and you could feel him smile against your lips at the feeling of you slowly giving in. 

He brought his hand up from your lower back, tracing it up the sides of your body until it reached your breast. He cupped you in his hand, feeling how soft you sat in his palm. He started to move his hand across the flesh with pressure, each motion of his hand causing a delicious friction on your nipple.

“Frankie.” You tried to warn again, but the pressure that had started to build in your body made your voice come out shakier than you needed it to.

The bud started to tighten, pronouncing itself through your t-shirt, calling for Frankie. You let out a moan as he began to tug and play with it.

“Yeah, that feel good baby?”

He pinched your nipple harder, a mix of pleasure and pain that moved down to your clit. 

He moved onto your other nipple, playing with it until he could feel your heart hammering through your chest. Your resolve was slipping, Frankie knew. 

He’d been thinking about this all day, thinking about how badly he needed you. He couldn’t help himself, even if he knew you’d both be tired the next day. 

He moved your hips, angling them so that his thigh was pressed between yours, encouraging you to rut your pussy onto him. 

Another moan caught in your throat and you looked up at Frankie with desperate eyes. 

“Frankie, please - make me feel good.” Any inhibition that you’d had earlier had disappeared, the throb of your pussy steadily growing.

His hands moved to your waist to pull you closer, directing your movement over his thigh. You sigh at the feeling, grinding yourself down onto his thigh. 

“You look so pretty like this, querida.” He kissed your cheek and nipped at your jaw. “Rubbing your little pussy on my thigh like you’re in heat.” 

Your body began to tremble as the pleasure started spreading from your clit. His thigh was rubbing you exactly like you needed him to. You could only pant, breath staggered at how he was making you feel. 

He pulled you closer, placing his arm across your back as he flipped you over on top of him. The new angle let you feel the press of his cock on your pussy, and you immediately went back to your rutting.

He let out a groan at the feeling of you moving your hips on top of him, the pleasure building up in his own core. You let out your own moans and gasps, the rut of your hips not stopping. 

You try to move off him to take your shirt off but his arm keeps you caged against him, not allowing you to get up from the position you’d taken. 

You lift your head to look at him, eyes meeting. 

“You feel so good on my pussy, Frankie.” Tears had started to build up in your eyes. 

“Yeah? You’re doing so good baby, making your pussy feel good all by yourself. Keep going, amor.” He moved one of his hands down to your ass, pulling the material of your shorts up so that the seam teased at both holes. 

You felt yourself clench, a moan tearing through your throat as you sped up your hips, desperate to feel good. 

He started playing with your shorts and panties, pulling them up and down. The tears that had welled up in your eyes kept building, the look on your face becoming more and more dazed as you began to drip through layers of clothing. 

Your sounds came out soft and high pitch, the thin rope tethering you to this earth beginning to snap. 

Frankie’s cock twitched, throbbing as your pussy moved against him. 

“Just like that baby, doing so good, so so good.” He kissed the top of your head, moving his hips so his cock was finally rubbing you back. “Making them kiss, hm baby?” 

“Frankie-” It was a short sharp cry of his name before your whole body coiled on top of him. 

You shook through your orgasm, body heaving as you breathed through it sharply. You gushed from your cunt, arousal pouring out of you. You could feel the wetness pool and drip forward onto your clit even with the material of your clothes there to interrupt. 

“That’s it baby, cum in your pretty panties, get them nice and wet for me, hm. Getting your shorts all fucking wet too.”

Frankie’s cock ached painfully, and he was unable to tell whether the sudden wetness he felt was from the precome he was dripping or from the way you’d just come on top of him. 

Your whole body went limp on his, legs twitching and eyes still rolled to the back of your head from the feeling of it all. But you couldn’t stop. 

You kept rutting your hips against him, the overwhelming wetness making it even easier than before. 

“Fuck-” Frankie whined, stomach clenching as he felt himself get pushed closer to his own peak. 

“Want you to cum in your clothes too Frankie, want us to be dirty together.” You moaned out, voice high pitch and choked as you kept up your motions. “Wanna eat your cum when it’s all sticky in your boxers.”

Frankie couldn’t hold back anymore, coming with a loud whine, stomach clenched and toes curling so hard he thought his leg would cramp. His cock jumped in his shorts, shot after shot of his cum soaking through the material of his boxers and pajamas. 

He pulled you as close to him as possible, pussy pressed firmly against him as you felt his pants get warm and wet beneath you. Your pussy clenched in response, the wetness of your clothes and his allowing for each pulse to be felt. 

“Ah, ah, ah- fuck, ah.” He couldn’t stop, arms shaky and whole body covered in sweat at how hard he came. 

“Mmmm, so good Frankie, did so good.” You kissed him, hands on his chest feeling the erratic beat of his heart. “You made such a mess, baby.” You emphasised your point by wiggling your hips on top of his, the action causing a loud moan to tear out of both of you. “This what you wanted? Wanted us to cum together like this, baby?”

“Made my cock feel so good, you always make my cock feel good, querida.” He answered, words jumbled as he spoke through the aftershocks. “Never want to stop, want you on my cock always.” 

“Frankie-” You choked out, his words keeping your heart rate pulsing at your clit. You sat up, blood rushing to your ears, making them ring. 

“I’m gonna sit on your cock, okay baby?” You asked, sounding completely wrecked as you moved to take your shirt off. “Gonna bounce on it for you until the whole bed is soaked, okay?”

His cock was already starting to harden, not there yet but quickly fighting for more. Desperate for more. 

“Fuck, yes- bounce on my cock princesa, it’s all yours.” He moaned.

“Yeah, it’s mine?” You finally took off your shirt, nipples so hard it was painful. 

“All yours, all of it.” His eyes scanned your chest, his own nipples hard beneath his top. You ran your hands over them, flicking them and feeling as his hips bucked up.

“Take your shirt off, Frankie.” 

He struggled to comply, head dizzy from the pleasure, body weak and slow in its movement. He managed to prop himself up enough to take it off before his body gave out and he slumped onto the mattress again. 

You ran your hands over his chest and stomach, featherlight, watching as goosebumps broke out on his skin and his stomach clenched.

“So pretty, Frankie.” You moaned, barely holding yourself together for the man before you. You needed to feel him inside you, even if your shaky legs and aching pussy begged you for reprieve. 

You ducked your head down to his shoulders, kissing along them and his collarbones before moving down to his hard nipples. You kissed them, scraping your teeth on them. His cock stood up, leaking and still confined in his pants. 

You got up, reaching for his remaining clothes. He tried lifting his hips to try to help you get them off, but you shook your head at him, pushing his hips back down.

You rubbed your hand over the wet material, feeling how warm it was. He watched you, half in pain, half desperate to see you fuck him. 

You moved the band of his boxers and pants down, enough to free him. The band dug slightly beneath his balls, but the feeling didn’t bring pain; it felt good, felt like he was being squeezed. 

“Wanna make our clothes dirtier.” You moaned. “Get everything nice and wet and warm for us.” 

“Fuck, please,” he moaned out your name, your words so filthy he felt like he was going to cum just listening to them. “Let’s cum together, please amor. Sit on me so we can cum on them. Wanna ruin them. Please, please.”

You pulled your soaked shorts and panties aside, the sight of your clenching cunt shining with slick making him hold his breath. 

You grabbed his cock, propping yourself over it with shaky legs as you prepared to take him in. 

You got the tip in slowly, both of you crying out loudly at the feeling of being together like this, his cock slowly sinking into your warm cunt.

But then the pain in your legs combined with the shock from how good he felt, and your legs gave out. You fell on him, his huge cock spearing into you. 

You cried out loudly, a moan of pleasure that was almost a scream, and your legs shook, the tears finally running down your face. “Fuck! Ah, fuck, Frankie!”

His own eyes rolled back, his moan unable to tear out of him as it choked in his chest, heart unsteady and saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, ready to drool out. 

His hands moved to your hips, weak, as an attempt to soothe you. But he was so far gone, so out of it that the touch was barely there, not able to help you. 

You pushed yourself up with all your strength and dropped yourself onto him again, the motion bringing a fire to your belly. 

“Frankie.” Your head rolled back, hips snapping up and down as you bounced on him. 

“Fuck, taking my cock so well amor. So tight, feel like I’m gonna fucking break you.” He slurred out. “Should keep you on it all the time, stretch you out. Take you out with me, full of my cock just like this.”

His words and the feeling of his cock deep inside you had you seeing stars, gaze dotting as you felt yourself about to pass out from how good he felt. 

“Ah, ah, ah..” Your moans came out weak and small, pathetic, as you helplessly fucked yourself on his cock. 

His hand moved toward where you were both connected, pressed on your lower abdomen as he watched you take his cock in. He dropped his hands lower, moving so that his fingers were rubbing you over your clit. 

You felt a heat creep up your spine, a feeling so wet and hot that you thought you’d end up peeing on him. 

“You take it so well, amor. You’re doing so good for me, dripping on my cock. Such a good fucking pussy.”

You came hard, a loud groan tearing out of you. Your legs shook, threatening to close, your whole body convulsing with the strength of your orgasm.

Frankie moved his hands to your hips. His peak was so close, he couldn’t let it slip from him. He fucked himself into you, rough and deep, from below, making you see stars. 

You didn’t know when you’d stopped cumming, you just knew that you were quickly approaching another orgasm, the slam of his cock in your wet cunt too good. 

You came again, high-pitch and weak, legs convulsing as you squirted on him. 

The liquid gushed down his cock and hips, soaking you both. It pooled down toward his chest as he kept slamming into you, the tilt of his hips moving you so that the liquid dripped forward onto him, all the way to his chin. 

That tore Frankie to his peak. He stilled his hips, pressing himself deep inside you, pulling your waist so that you were flesh against him; he pulled your chest back against his, arm wrapping you again in that position you’d been in at the start of your first peak. You could feel your wetness pressed against your torso.

His cum gushed into you, more tears falling from your eyes as a small moan left your lips. He let out a grunt followed by a whine, his body tight and tense from how good you made him feel.

Everything was warm, everything was wet. Your chests heaved together, room spinning as you both fought to stay tethered to this world. 

He moved to kiss the top of your head, rubbing a soothing pattern on your back. 

“Did so good for me baby, got everything so wet.” He managed to say, completely wrecked.

You clenched around him in response, the twitch and clench of your bodies playing a game of back-and-forth.

“Feel so good Frankie, I love you so much, love you so much.” You garbled out, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth. 

“I love you too baby, did so good for me.” 

You stayed like that for a while, calming down until you were both ready to move again. 

Everything was wet, everything was warm. 

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales drabble #francisco catfish morales x reader #fracisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader

[pennyserenade]

tags: nameless female oc x frankie morales, nameless female oc x frankie morales rating: m ( mature ) warnings: language, angst word count: 3.0k+ summary: frankie wants to love her the best, but first he must see someone who loved her first to realize it notes: it is has been a hot minute since i wrote something and i’m sorry about this so here is something about my two favorites from the losing dogs universe

i won’t share you 

Frankie swallows his misery down with a gulp of his warm beer, and he watches her from across the room. She stands at the bar talking to someone she had introduced to him earlier that night; some tall, lean man in a nice button up and expensive slacks from another life. 

Brad. 

Frankie wishes he could forget his name, but it’s not so easy. 

Brad stares at her like Frankie’s never given himself the luxury of doing, not in places like this. Brad likes her, Frankie knows, just by watching. He also knows, from his too long observation of their fifteen-or-so-minute interaction, that Brad isn’t married. 

Frankie wishes he would’ve told Brad that she was his girlfriend, but he couldn’t, because she’s not. Frankie had promised himself that if she met someone like Brad—smart, handsome, tall, well adjusted—he would just be happy for her and let it be. Telling Brad that she was his wouldn’t be doing that, even if there was a grain of truth to be found in those words. 

He picks at the label of his beer and averts his gaze to the television on the wall. Some soccer game is on, but he’s too distracted by trying not to feel possessive to really see it. 

He has no reason to think this Brad character is anything more than someone she knows, because up until an hour ago, Frankie hadn’t even known of his existence. For being a good pal of hers, Brad isn’t on her wall photos and never makes his way into her stories. In all of her sordid tales of fucking boys who weren’t good for her, Brad’s not been mentioned once, either. As far as Frankie knows, Brad didn’t break her heart.

But then Frankie frowns, because he thinks maybe Brad is one of those men she doesn’t talk about much with him. There’s a handful of them, and he doesn’t know all of their names, but he knows details. 

There is a man named Earnest, who she fell in love with some time after college. She dated Earnest from when she was twenty-three until she was twenty-six. When she had met him, she thought he was her first step into adulthood. Earnest wasn’t that much older than her, maybe only shy of two years, but he had a real job and he didn’t make her sad in a way a lot of men made her sad. She calls him ‘Earn’ when she talks about him, and Frankie still hasn’t brought himself to ask what happened between them. He hates Earnest, but has done a good job not conveying this.  

Then there was another guy after Earnest. Frankie doesn’t know his name, only that she started dating him after she ran into him again when she lived in Chicago. He thinks she might’ve been in her late twenties by then. They dated for a little over a year, and whenever she talks about this guy, she smiles softly. She told Frankie that it was nice to find love again after Earnest, because she didn’t think she was going to be able to do that. Frankie hates this guy because she’s talked about him so little--so little that he doesn’t even know his name--and he knows that means it’s because she cares so much. 

This is how she speaks about him.

Frankie allows himself to look back at them, just for a second. He catches her eyes and she looks at him. She smiles like she’s really happy and Frankie wonders if this is how she looks when he’s talking to her. 

Remembering the phone in his pocket, Frankie takes it out. 

Going out for air. Be back in a little 

The message conveys none of the jealousy he possesses, and before he can add it, Frankie presses the send the button. He composes himself, because he’s a grown fucking man, and he exits the bar for the air his mind needs. 

——

It takes thirty minutes, but she comes. 

Frankie hadn’t meant to stay outside for so long, but one negative thought blended into another, and he thought it better to sit on the tailgate of his truck and wait it out. A part of him knew that she’d come find him. 

“Frankie,” she greets. 

Her voice betrays some disappointment, but Frankie doesn’t acknowledge it. “Hey,” he says back. “Where’s Brad?”

“Inside.” 

“Hm.” 

She leans against his truck. “It’s not like that with him, Francisco, just so you know.”

Frankie looks down at his feet. He wishes he smoked or something so he’d have something better to distract himself with. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Frankie shrugs. “I’m not in charge of what you do with yourself, honey.”

“Frankie.”

“I’m not mad at you or anything. I swear.”

She inches closer to him and he watches her carefully. When she stands in front of him and puts her hands on his knees, he spreads his legs for her body without thinking. 

“I know you aren’t.” Her fingers dance along his knees, and she doesn’t look up at him. “I was just worried. You said you’d be back soon and your soon turned into twenty minutes.”

“It’s stuffy in there.” Frankie shrugs. “I’m alright, really. If you want, you can go back.”

She shakes her head and sits on the tailgate next to him. “If it’s alright, Frankie, I’ll stay here with you.” 

He smiles. “That’s fine with me.”

She smiles back at him and leans forward to press her lips to his. Frankie holds her face in his palm when she does, and she holds onto his wrist.

“You don’t have to worry.”

He nods his head before leaning back on his arms. 

“Can I ask you something?”

She nods her head. “Anything.”

Frankie pauses and debates asking, but then she looks at him expectantly.  

“What happened between you and that guy named Earnest?”

“Earn fell out of love with me. He liked me and then he didn’t. Why?”

“And the guy after Earnest?” he says, not answering her. 

“Brad’s the guy after Earnest, Frankie,” she admits. “Brad and I were just kids when we were running around. He’s so different now.” 

“Oh.”

“Oh,” she mocks, nudging his shoulder. “I don’t care for him like that anymore. I just think about him. You think about people.”

“Like who?“

“Your ex-wife,” she answers simply. Frankie frowns. 

“She’s the mother of my child; of course I’m going to think of her. I see her all the time.”

“Even if she wasn’t, you would. A part of you will always love her, too, because that’s just the way life is. It’s not very fair, but at the same time, it’s kind of beautiful.“

Frankie tilts his head up. The sky is mostly clear tonight and the stars are out, but he’s not really paying attention to any of that. “It would help if he wasn’t so tall and good looking, you know.” 

She laughs in a way that makes him smile, despite how shitty he feels.  “He used to be more boyish and lanky.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better. If you liked him then, you’re sure to like him now.”

“He asked me to go home with him but I said no,” she admits. She leans back on her arms now too, a mirror reflection of Frankie. “I didn’t want to go home with him—I wanted to go home with you.”

Frankie nibbles at the inside of his cheek and thinks about how unfair he is to her. “I had hoped for that,” he says with some guilt wrought in his tone. “I know we make an effort not to speak on things like this, but I care for you a lot.”

He sits with that for a second before adding, “Love. I love you.”

He wishes he could be a little more like Brad. Brad’s loved her once and he wants to do it again. He looks at her like he used to love her—or like he always will. Frankie still tells his friends that she’s his friend. 

“I wish you would use that word when we weren’t in situations like this,” she tells him. She looks down. “Sometimes I sit there with you and you’re looking at me and I think ‘he’s going to say it. Surely he’s just going to say it’ and then you don’t. Then I think about the times you do, and it makes me feel bad, because usually it’s only when you’re fucking me, and then I remember that’s the only time I tell you that too. You’re the only guy I’ve done that with and a lot of them were only half as serious as I am about you.”

Frankie frowns. “Well we’re supposed to be friends. It’s upkeep for the image, I suppose.”

“Friends love each other too,” she says, quietly. 

“Yeah but not…not like that.”

She sits up straight and for a moment Frankie thinks she’s going to leave, but she only hangs her head and begins swinging her legs. “What are we going to do about that?” she says. She doesn’t look at him. 

Frankie doesn’t answer. He doesn’t think she really wants him to. 

After a moment, she turns her head back to look at him over her shoulder. “Do you want to come home with me?”

“Yeah,” Frankie says. He says that like Brad looks at her—like he loves her. Like he’s been waiting all his life for that question. 

When Frankie gets off the tailgate, he turns around to help her down. She takes his hand and she lands close to him. Her hand is on his chest. Frankie leans down and kisses her gently and she lets him, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

He feels like he should do something about this.

——

At her house, Frankie unlocks the front door for her. 

They’ve developed this sort of domestic routine: He drives home, like it’s theirs, not just hers, and she slips him the keys as they make their way up her steps. He opens the door for her, always, and she steps inside and turns on the hallway light for them. It’s like a dance they’ve perfected, each of them knowing their parts so well they don’t even have to look at each other to know what comes next. 

What comes next is always the peeling off of clothes as they make their way to the living room or her bedroom. too. Sometimes they do each other’s, and sometimes they take a long time to get it all off. Last weekend they fought in the kitchen about Thanksgiving before, because she’s going to her parents and she didn’t tell him. She asked him why he cared and he didn’t answer. It took them an extra thirty minutes, but they still had managed to sway themselves in the direction of her bedroom, where they got all of their anger out through not talking about it. 

Tonight, they undo their own buttons. She leaves her jacket on the back of the chair in the kitchen and he leaves his in the seat of it. 

“Do you want a drink?” she asks, opening the fridge. 

“Do you have any soda?”

“Coke and sprite.”

“Nah, actually.”

She turns around. “Those are sodas you like. I bought those for you.” 

He smiles. “I’m just not thirsty.”

She closes the fridge door and moves to the cabinet, where she takes down a shot glass and a bottle of tequila. Frankie watches, furrowing his brow, as she fills the glass up and shot guns it. She never fails to amaze him when it comes to the ease with which she can hold down American alcohol. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

She sits the glass in the sink. “I’m okay,” she responds. “Just needed something to take the edge off of tonight.” 

Frankie leans against the wall and folds his arms over his chest. “What happened between you and Brad, honey?”

“Nothing. Just as much as I’ve told you already,” she says simply. “Brad and I met when we were working in Chicago at this really boring executive search firm or whatever, and we got on really well. I was working in the same building as him but on a different floor, and he was a recruiter for them and I was only a secretary. For being so young, he really had his shit together.”

“You liked men like that,” he says. There’s no malice behind that, but he frowns at himself anyways. “Sorry.”

She leans against the counter and faces him. “I did. I do.” She shrugs. “Anyways, we were together for about a year and a half and we stopped seeing each other when he left for California. He got a better job and I wasn’t ready to leave because I hadn’t been in Chicago that long. It hurt for a long time because I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t bring myself to…I don’t know, settle….adjust. I loved him, but I didn’t want to uproot my life for him, even if I didn’t even like Chicago that much.” 

She laughs softly, but it’s void of any sort of mirth. “In fact, after he left, it didn’t take me too long to leave after that. Probably a year. He used to call me for the first few months but I stopped answering. I thought he would get married or something.”

“And now he’s in Florida.”

“Business,” she clarifies. “He said he travels a lot now.” 

She zones out for a moment, looking somewhere beyond Frankie. Then she refocuses her attention. “It doesn’t matter though. It’s a once in a life sort of thing. That’s why I feel so weird about it.”

She gives Frankie a smile that is supposed to convince him that she’s telling the truth, but he knows she’s not. 

“It’s okay if you still have feelings for him,” he says. He feels his heart breaking as he does. 

“I don’t,” she’s quick to say. “I think I just…I think that I’ve just found myself stuck here. With you.”

He goes to say something, but she interrupts. 

“Not stuck. I don’t feel trapped. I’m just afraid to move forward or backwards with you. That’s not fair to either of us.“

“I don’t want to move backwards,” he tells her. He pushes himself off the wall and stands straight. “I…We.” He stops, frustrated at not being able to find the right words. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I know. Me either.”

Frankie gives her an apologetic look, something to convey how truly sorry he is. She stands there looking just as sorry. He’s really afraid she’s going to tell him that it’s over. He swallows and tries to prepare himself for what he’ll do. 

He realizes he’s not exactly sure what he’ll do. 

He loves her. That used to be enough, but now it’s not even close. 

He doesn’t want to be like Earnest or Brad. Frankie hates those guys because they meant a lot to her, and he hates them because they were stupid enough to have lost her. He doesn’t want to be one of them. He doesn’t want his name to be a mystery, or to find himself looking at her the way Brad had earlier tonight, while someone like him sits on and sulks in the background. 

“I think we should move in together,” he offers. “It makes sense. I’m here all the time anyways.”

“Frankie—“

“No, I mean it,” he says. “I don’t want to be your friend anymore. I was never just your friend.” 

She looks at him like he’s lost his mind and he thinks maybe he has, but he doesn’t care, because it’s certainly not the first time, and it’s certainly not the worst one. This might even be the smartest fucking mistake he’s ever committed to. 

“Say something,” he urges. 

She looks dumbfounded. “This is a lot, Frankie. You’re—you’re not thinking right. You’re just scared.”

“I am,” he agrees, “but I’ve been thinking about something like this all night, and it’s apparent you have too. Let’s just fucking do it.”

She takes a moment to think it over, and Frankie watches her with intent. Each tweak in her facial expression has him raising his eyebrows in expectation. His heart beats rapidly in his chest.

“Okay,” she agrees. 

Her voice sort of quivers when she repeats it again, just loud enough for him to really hear her, but she smiles. 

Frankie wastes no time in rushing over to her and gathering her up in his arms. She leans into him willingly and he can hear her sniffle against his chest. 

He leans down to her ear and whispers, “I love you.”

This feels like the breathe of air he’s been trying to catch since he got back from that fucking trip all those years ago. He’s terrified, sure, because it’s been a long time since he’s shared so much of his life with anyone who was over the age of five, but he’s happy. Unexpectedly, Frankie is almost thrilled. 

Frankie presses his lips to hers and she clings onto the sides of his shirt like she always does, and he hopes she knows that beyond being terrified of losing her, he’s doing this because he’s in love with her and has been for longer than he’s said it. And that Brad, no matter how much he looks at her with that loving look, won’t know the depths of it. No man will or ever could. 

These men were phases in her life that have equated into the person she is today, but that’s just it—they were phases. He’s got the whole person, and she wants him too—wants him so much she’ll adjust her life. 

“I’ve wanted to be a grown up with you for so long, Francisco,” she tells him. She pulls back from his chest and he smiles at the sight of her, all red in the cheeks but smiling. “Please be kind to me.”

He gently runs his thumb across her bottom lip before nodding. “I’ll be the best goddamn roommate you’ve ever had, baby.”

How great it is to be loved like this, Frankie thinks, before kissing her again. He never thought he would have this again. 

#frankie morales x you #frankie morales #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #triple frontier #Francisco 'Catfish' Morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x reader #fracisco morales x female oc #francisco morales x oc #triple frontier fanfic

[jawabear]

Worthy (”Catfish” x Reader)

A/N: Hi! This was another request. I feel like it took me too long to write thins, and even still its not my best work. I struggled a little bit in writing this but I finally finished it. So, I hope you like it Anon and I hope it is what you had in mind. Hope you enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes.

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, Frankie is sad, he wants love, I love you, Santiago being weird, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning

Summary: Frankie loves someone, someone who loves him but he denies himself the love of another, but what happens when he can’t? 

Splashing water over his face, he placed his razor down onto the side of his sink. He ran his hands over his face a few times, trying to encourage the cool water to sink into his skin, to make him feel a little more refreshed. He then lifted his head and looked into to the mirror, both hands taking hold of the sink.

Frankie hated what he saw looking back at him. Even though he had cleaned up the scruff along his jaw, it didn’t hide the fact of who he believed himself to be. A murderer. Even though he was a soldier and killing kind of came along with that title, he still killed those people, innocent or not, they were dead. He wondered if everyone felt this way after leaving the army. If everyone grew to hate themselves or if it was just him being pathetic.

It had been almost two years since he had pulled out from active duty, and just a few months since he had got his pilots license revoked for a fucking drug bust. He wasn’t angry with himself, he was disappointed. Disappointed had he let this happened, that he let himself walk so easily down this dark path he was on, slowly falling in a downward spiral to hell. He had given up on trying to fight it, he was now to just let things play out how they would, it was his fault he was in this mess so why should he try to stop it?

His phone buzzed from beside him which pulled him from his dark thoughts. He looked and saw it was ringing. She was calling him. He saw her name and he saw her contact picture, immediately being taken back to when the picture was taken.

It was Christmas a few years ago. Frankie was hesitant about going to Santiago’s Christmas party, they always ended...strangely. And as time went on, more and more people were invited, big crowds were something Frankie wasn’t good with. But he decided to go anyway, if it came to it, he could leave early, or he could spend his night with her.

All he had done was awkwardly stand in the kitchen, nursing a warming beer while other guests would come in and out grabbing drinks or food. One of the guys would come in and talk to him but ultimately, they had better things to do. He was ready to cal it a night when she appeared in the kitchen.

She gave him a gentle smiled and came and stood beside him “why are you in here alone Frankie?” She asked him as she poured herself a drink.

“Everyone else seems busy” he said quietly with a shrug.

“I’m not busy” she said, she took the bar stool beside him.

The two just sat there for nearly the entire night just laughing and talking with each other. And he was falling more and more in love with her.

At some point, for some reason, he lifted his head to look above him and sighed, but his face was blazing with heat “Has that been there the entire time?” He said, pointing to the mistletoe hanging above them. She just laughed at it.

“Santiago is a weirdo” she giggled, “but,” she leaned forwards and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. If his face was bright red before, it defiantly was now. “I like to follow tradition”

And of course Santiago, the weirdo, was watching the whole thing and capture the moment she kissed him on his phone, sending him the picture with the caption “you’re in deep dude”

He lifted his phone to his ear “Hello?” He said.

“Hey Frankie, you free for drinks?” Her voice sounded just as sweet on the phone.

“Uh, Yeah. I’ll meet you at the bar in...” he checked his watch “ten minuets?”

“Perfect,” he could hear her smiling “I’ll see you then Frankie” the line then went dead and he pulled the phone away from his ear, his heart skipping beats in the thought of seeing her again.

Frankie placed his phone back down and grabbed a towel to wipe his face clean of the water. He took one last look at himself in the mirror before leaving the bathroom to put some clothes on before heading down to the bar.

It was a quiet little place. He and the guys used to go there almost every night in their college days. Some of their most life changing moments had happened in that bar. It was where they all met to tell each other they were going to join the army, where they all shared their last drink before going into active duty, where Tom had met his ex wife Molly, and more importantly for Frankie, where they had first met (Y/N).

He walked into the bar and he could here the quiet chatter of people and the hum of distant music. It didn’t take him long to find her, she was sat in the usual spot. Anyone who came to this bar was a regular, so everyone seemed to have their designated seats. He noticed that she had already got a drink for herself and him. He slipped into the chair opposite her and pulled her attention from her phone. She immediately gave him a bright smile and placed her phone face down.

“Hey” she said to him.

“Hi, thanks for the drink” he said as he lifted it to his lips, letting the cool liquid slide down his throat.

“You’re welcome” she nodded.

“You okay?” He asked when he set his drink back down onto the table.

“Yeah” she nodded “I’m good, just thought I’d drag you out for a couple drinks. You’ve been quiet recently. Are you okay?”

No. He should’ve just told her. He should’ve told her how it was.

“Yeah..I’m-I’m okay”

“Frankie” she said “come on, tell me”

“I think I’m just tired is all, haven’t been sleeping to well recently”

She nodded, believing his lie for now. Of course she knew he was lying. She was good at reading people and Frankie was an open book. He may have believed he was hiding his feelings from the others, but he couldn’t pull the sheet over her eyes. She knew him. And she knew he wasn’t okay. But she knew better then to ask him about it, the last time he did ask him to talk to her, he lost it completely. It was like he was back on the field again, he wasn’t himself. He was angry, he was frustrated. He wasn’t the sweet, kind, caring man she knew and it scared her.

But she didn’t let that sway her feelings for him. She still liked him, loved him. She knew he was damaged, they all were, all veterans were. But that made her love him more, he understood the value of life more because he had seen the world at its worst. His fear of loosing the ones closest to him meant he was always ready to protect them, he would keep her safe, keep her close to ensure she was okay. And she would keep him safe. She always had. She would be there if he needed to forget. She was there helping him get clean even if he didn’t release it. She was no,ding his hand every step of the way to his redemption.

As they continued to talk, he became more chipper, making her laugh and laughing himself. This was the Frankie she knew best. She was happy seeing him smile. Making jokes about Santiago and telling embarrassing stories of the guys for their time in the army. And of course, just being with her was enough to make him happy.

The bar tender, Shannon, strode over to their table and place an ice cold beer in front of Frankie. “Here you go” she gave him a sweet smile.

“I didn’t-“ he was about to argue that he hadn’t asked for another.

“It’s on the house Frankie” she said sweetly, she winked at him and sauntered off back behind the bar, purposely swaying her hips in a teasing manner, clearly trying to rile him up, but thankfully, it didn’t work.

(Y/N) took an angry sip of her drink, he was still looking at Shannon when she did this so her anger didn’t come across to him. She hated how that girl was always trying to get in his pants. Always. Giving him looks from the bar, leaning further down when putting his drink on the table, giving him a good look at her chest. (Y/N) hated that she went after Frankie. Why not Benny? Or Santiago? Or Will? Why Frankie, why her Frankie?

Frankie cleared his throat and took a sip of his fresh drink. “You know,” (Y/N) began, hiding her anger “it’s pretty clear that she likes you” her voice strained. She felt sick saying those words. If he was really oblivious to Shannon’s flirting, he was defiantly oblivious to hers. (Y/N) wasn’t good with feelings so her flirting was a lot more subtle then Shannon’s so there was no way he would notice.

“She does?” He asked her. Idiot.

(Y/N) let out a stiff laugh and rolled her eyes “Yeah!” She said “you seriously haven’t noticed? All her flirting? The giving you free drinks? getting close to you? The “subtle” touches to your arm?”

“I...I don’t tend to take much notice of girls I’m not interested in...”

Her heart clenched in her chest. He didn’t take notice of girls he’s not interested in? Then he clearly wasn’t interested in (Y/N). He hadn’t picked up on her flirting, he hadn’t picked up on her feelings for him, he hadn’t taken much notice of it all. He wasn’t interested in her. She felt defeated.

“Then you should tell her that” she said “because, quite frankly, her attempts at getting you to like her, are kind of upsetting” She felt a little bit happy that he didn’t like Shannon but she was hurt that he didn’t like her.

After they had finished up at the bar, he offered to drive her home. She didn’t live too far from the bar so she usually just walked there, but he wasn’t going to let her walk him when one) it was dark and two) he could give her a lift.

She accepted his offer and the drive back to hers was unusually quiet. He could sense something was now off about her but he didn’t know what, and he wasn’t good and comforting people. He was used to being the one being comforted, you would think that all the times she had been there for him, he would’ve picked up a thing or two but evidently not. So they both say awkwardly silent in his car, thankfully the journey was short.

They pulled up to her house and she opened the door but stopped. “Do you want to come in?” She asked, slight hope in her voice.

“Sure” he nodded, he stopped his car engine and they both slipped out of his car making their way towards her small home, he made sure to lock his car.

They entered her house and he followed her into the kitchen. She went straight to the sink and poured her self a glass of water quickly chugging it down and putting the glass in the sink.

“Are you okay?” He finally asked her as he fiddled nervously with his fingers. She turned to face him and stepped towards him, “you...you seemed to change after Shannon gave me a drink...it’s-it’s not like you...”

She just looked at him. He became more nervous. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything. He felt like he only made it worse now. Maybe he should’ve just left her alone, he shouldn’t have agreed to come inside her house. But he would feel guilty if he could’ve been there for her when she needed him and he wasn’t.

She grabbed hold of his shirt, his body stiffened at this. But his eyes went wide when she pulled him against her, smashing her lips to his.

Her lips were so warm against his. What he always dreamed they would be. He wanted, desperately, to sink into the kiss. To submit to his heart and kiss her back with all the love he had for her, but his mind wouldn’t allow him to. He knew if he submitted to his feelings then he would be pulling her down his dark path with him. He couldn’t do that do her, he could destroy her spirit because he was destroying himself.

“(Y/N)” he muttered against her lips as he raised his hands to her shoulders trying to push her away but she gripped hold of his shirt tighter, pressing herself further against him “(Y/N), (Y/N) stop” he said, forcefully pushing her off him. “Stop” He said again “we...we can’t do this”

“Why?” She whimpered, a sudden sadness washing over her face “Why Frankie? Is it because you’re not interested in me?”

He froze for a minute, just getting lost in her. Getting lost in her eyes. In the memory of her lips. Thinking over what had just happened. Confused as to what she was doing, what she meant.

“Frankie...I like you. I really like you. I love you. And I want you. I want to be with you. You’re so amazing...you’re so sweet and kind-“

“I’m not” he quickly cut her off “I’m not...don’t...don’t say that”

“But it’s true” she argued

“No it isn’t” he said a little louder then he intended too “You don’t deserve me (Y/N). You deserve someone better. Someone who can make you happy. Not me. I’m...I’m a fucking mess”

“You’re not Frankie, you-“

“Open your eyes (Y/N)!” He yelled at her making her stumble backwards “I’m a fucking mess! I can’t look at myself with out wanting to smash every mirror on earth! I can’t sleep at night because all I see is the people I’ve killed! All I do is drink away my problems hoping one day it will all be over! And I got my fucking pilots licence taken away because of a fucking drug bust! Because I was so fucking done with everything I turned to that shit to make me happy! I fucking love you (Y/N)! But I’m not letting myself have you. I’m bad for you. I’ll drag you down with me. I’m not going to do that. I can’t ruin you because I’m so fucked up. You deserve someone better. Someone who is like you. Someone who can take care of you. You’re better off without me”

She watched as a few tears slipped from his eyes. She wished he had expressed this to her sooner. She wished he had let down his walls sooner so she could see how he was really hurting. Why he was hurting. If he did, perhaps she would’ve told him about her feelings sooner. So that way she could’ve been there to comfort him at night, or to hold him in the day, to kiss him ever minute and to love him every second.

She took a step towards him and lifted his head so his eyes once again met hers. “No one is perfect Frankie” she told him gently “but you are about as close as anyone can be. You’ve messed up in your life but you know you have. You know how badly you have. And even though you blame yourself relentlessly for it, you’ve learnt from it. You may not think it but you’re trying to get better. You’re clean now from drugs. You’re getting better. And I don’t care what you’ve done, I know what you’ve done. I was there. You’ve never been alone, I’ve been beside you the whole time. And I’m not going to leave you. And I don’t want to be without you. No one can care for me like you can. No one knows the value of love and affection like you. No one knows how to make me feel happy like you do. You are the one I want. I don’t want anyone else...I want to love you forever”

His forehead fell against hers and he rose his hands to press against her cheeks “I love you Frankie...I don’t care if you don’t want me to. I do love you. I’ll scream it from the rooftops if I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes for you to believe me, for you to accept it. Because I’m not going to let you carry on like this thinking you’re alone when you’re not”

“(Y/N)...” he whispered slowly, “love me..” he begged softly “please...love me forever. Hold me forever. Kiss me forever. But don’t let me destroy you..”

“You won’t Frankie” she shook her head to him “you won’t”

16/05/20

#francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #fracisco catfish morales x reader #francisco catfish morales fanfic #triple frontier #fluff #angst #pedro pascal #fanfic

[triplefrontierstuff-blog]

Hello, Could I please have a Catfish and oc/reader oneshot where Pope knows they both like each other so he sets them up on a date or Pope kept hitting on the OC to make CatFish jealous so he would ask her out, up to you which one

Genre: Fluffy

Word count: 1,595

Writer: Lari

The night was warm when Catfish arrived at the bar. He didn’t even know what he was doing there, considering he didn’t wanna go, but the guys said Lauren would be there and the last thing he knows he was getting into the car and just going.

Benny and Will were playing pool and Pope was with Lauren at the table.

“Finally”, Pope said, getting up to give him a brief hug.

“Thought you wouldn’t come”, Lauren said, complementing him too, getting a little flushed. Catfish smiled at her.

“Yeah, I wasn’t really in the mood, but the alternative was keep watching that crappy program on TV with no beer on the fridge”, Pope and Lauren nodded, getting in the way of grabbing the same glass of drink. Both of them smiled and Pope let her take it. He noticed Catfish’s suspicious look and knew that maybe his plan would work.

“Can I get you a drink, Lauren?”, Catfish asked, trying to ignore that scene.

“Nop, we already have our drink”, Pope answered “I got one for both of us”

“I see”, Catfish said, his smile fading. Lauren was just watching the guys play pool a little. “I’m gonna grab one for myself, then”

Pope wouldn’t waste his opportunity, so he turned to Lauren and started giving the best of him on making her smile. He wasn’t even hitting her, he was just making her laugh for Catfish see it all from the distance - because he knew he would.

Pope have tried of everything to get them together, he even set them up on a blind date once - which Catfish figured out somehow and came up with some lame excuse. It was clear that he liked her and Lauren were more discreet, but she looked at him the same way and always get a little flushed when he speaks to her. Benny and Will could see that too, but they only make jokes and laugh of Catfish’s fear of letting her know - Pope was the only one actually doing something about it.

And know, the only chance he had was doing this - making Catfish know that he could hide his feelings and never let her know, but sometime he would have to deal with the fact that she would stick with someone. How would he deal with jealousy?

Of course Pope didn’t have interest on being with Lauren, he just wanted to make Catfish do something, for the last time. He promised to himself he would give up if he didn’t.

Meanwhile, Catfish was waiting for his beer when he saw Lauren laughing a lot with Pope. He saw how comfortable she was on talking to him, something he actually never saw she doing with himself - if they were left alone they could talk okay, but wasn’t as spontaneous as with Pope. 

And that just makes him very frustrated.

Frank knows he likes Lauren a lot, he’s not stupid enough to deny himself that, but he just don’t think she likes him the same way - Pope keeps saying for him to go for it, he even got them on a date once, but Catfish thinks she may just assume he only wants some fling with her, which is not the case. He really likes her and he has to try really hard not to keep staring at her when she’s speaking to the guys. Frank likes to observe her gestures, her smile and the way she bites her lips - and how much he’d like to do that too.

So yeah, he was very frustrated and kind of angry in that moment, and so, when his beer arrived, he ordered a double shot of wisky to the bartender, with the thought that maybe that would help him get through that night. Maybe going there just because of Lauren was a big mistake.

Will and Benny finished their play, joining Pope and Lauren at the table and, after seeing Catfish there, they complemented him from the distance, waiting for him to finish his shot and go there. He took he’s shot of wisky all at once, got enough courage and grabbed his beer, going to their table.

“Look who’s here”, said Benny, smiling to him besides Will.

“I’m here for a while now”

“Yeah, we thought you would join us to play”, Will said, drinking from his beer.

“I’m not really in the mood”, Catfish said, looking to Pope just to see he was talking low with Lauren. The guys knew about Pope’s plan and just tried not to spoil it or give it away and acted normal.

“What do you think about we all play pool?”, Lauren suggested suddenly, finishing the drink she was sharing with Pope.

“Hell yeah”, said Benny, smiling.

“Maybe we should bet something”, Will proposed, giving the thought to Pope. Will is very calm and stuff, but that doesn’t mean his always soft with his friends - specially if he’s being a cupid. Pope thanked him in his thoughts.

“I think the winner can get anything he asks done by the others”, Pope said, seeing the surprised look in Catfish’s face. They all knew he was the best of all of them, even with his knees all screwed. He just didn’t believe that was happening.

“I think that’s a good idea”, Lauren backed him up, looking for a moment to Catfish, but he was too occupied drinking his beer almost all at once and already asking for another.

“Great, because I want free shots and beers for the rest of the night”, said Benny, already getting up and going set the pool up for them.

Will gave a wink to Pope without anyone notice and got up too, Lauren going behind them.

“Aren’t you going too?”, she asked Catfish, who was still seated on his chair.

“Hum, yeah, I’m just… finishing this other beer first”, he said, trying to smile “I’m just behind you”. She nodded and went after the guys, not noticing the pure fury that was rising inside of him.

As expected, Pope won.

Catfish played the best he could, God knows how he tried - and also how much he was hopping one of the guys won -, but Pope was just too god damn good. But the worst was Pope and Lauren just understanding each other jokes and laughing to each other all the time. That’s all he could see and what confound him the most.

At the end, Catfish had drunk two or three more beers without even noticing, such anger he was trying to swallow along with it.

“Oh, c’mon!”, said Benny, throwing the pool cue on the pool table.

“I won fare and square”, Pope said, smiling. “And now I want my wishes”.

“Yeah, we all know what’s your big wish here”, Catfish said, not capable of resisting all of that crap anymore.

“What?”, Pope was a good actor, we gotta give him that.

“C’mon, I’m not stupid. I just never thought you were an asshole like this”, he said and just got out, not willing to see Lauren’s confused face and have to explain everything.

Will and Benny wasn’t laughing or willing to like they were on the table. That seemed like Frank was really upset and Pope also realized that. Lauren didn’t understand a thing and was left with Will and Benny when Pope ran to the door to catch up with his friend.

“Wait!”, Pope said, running after Catfish, that was walking surprisingly fast for someone who was kind of unsettled by the alcohol. When he got to him and touched his arm, Catfish just turned around abruptly.

“Just let me go, man”

“Frank, c’mon.”

“C’mon what? You want me to stay and participate of this bullshit with you, that’s what you want?”

“No, it’s just…”

“It’s nothing! I’m going home and we forget about this”

“Fuck, Frank, just listen to me!”, Pope demanded, talking a little louder. Catfish stayed in his place, giving him just one last chance. “I don’t want her.”

“Yeah, right”, Fish said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m serious! I’m just doing this as a last chance for you to do something, damn it!”

“What?”

“You heard me.” he looked deep into Catfish’s eyes so he knew he was really serious about that. “I don’t wanna know if what I did was right or wrong, but what I do know is that you gotta do something, man. Look at you, I wasn’t even hitting on her, I was just making her laugh and you looked like someone was torturing you.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were, and don’t deny it. I saw how many beers you drank, and you don’t drink fast like that just for fun.” Pope sighed. “All we all want is for you to just do something, man. You don’t have to declare your love for her, just ask her out, that’s all. She expects that from you for a long time and I don’t know why the hell she didn’t give up on you already.”

“Don’t mess up with me.”

“I’m saying I’m serious. She even thinks you don’t want anything with her, man.” Catfish was caught by surprise by that. He never thought of it this way. “Promise me you’ll stop acting like a fucking teenager and will ask her out.” Catfish looked deep into his eyes and knew he was telling the truth. They didn’t use to lie to each other like that. A slight smile popped up in his face, lightened by hope.

“I promise.”

#drabbles #imagines #one shots #catfish drabbles #catfish imagines #catfish one shots #catfish fluffy #catfish x reader #fracisco catfish morales #catfish #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales x reader #francisco catfish morales drabbles #francisco catfish morales imagines #francisco catfish morales one shots #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales drabbles #francisco morales imagines #francisco morales one shots #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier drabbles #triple frontier imagines #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier one shots #fanfiction #francisco catfish morales fluffy #francisco morales fluffy #fluffy #triple frontier fluffy

[jawabear]

Another Night (”Catfish” x Reader)

A/N: Hi. So, this is sad. If you struggle with things like PTSD, then maybe give this one a pass. And I want you all to remember that you never need to suffer alone, you aren't alone. I myself struggle with awful anxiety, and whist I know that mine is not as bad as some peoples, it is enough to stop me from doing things I love, so I use my writing to get across my feelings. But this story is in no way a reflection of my personal anxiety, this was just inspired by his character and a few other fics I have read. so I hope you enjoy and I hope you all stay safe. Sorry for any mistakes.

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, PTSD, mentions of death, heavy use of ‘blood’, dark imagery, anxiety, mentions of possible suicide, injury description, just a lot of darkness and sadness, but Frankie gets a hug at the end, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning

Summary: Frankie is still haunted by his past, by his mistakes, his life is filthy with blood, and then the screaming started...

Another night was all it was. Another sleepless night. Frankie had grown used to this. To not sleeping. He thought things would be different now. Now that he has a baby, now that he has a wife. But it was, if anything, worse. He thought they would make him calmer, happier, he thought they would make all his pain go away, all his memories, all the shit from his past. But none of it went away. His anxiety was now through the roof, he had two people he had to protect. 

But protect from what? He lived in a safe area, a small quiet village area. Perfect for raising a small child, perfect for Frankie to be at peace for once, to live the quiet life he always wanted. But Frankie couldn’t sleep knowing what he did about the world, knowing the horrors of it, knowing all the bad people in it that could come after him in revenge for what he did. And if he slept, they would be taken from him. His wife and his daughter would be ripped from his life and he would never see them again.

Perhaps he was being punished. What ever greater being there was above him clearly wanted him to suffer. Wanted him to live in constant pain, fear and anxiety. He was being punished for everything he had done. All the people he killed, all the homes he destroyed, the drugs he had done, he was being punished for it all.

And giving him a wife and child was the worst punishment of all.

To gift him with two such beautiful, amazing girls who he loved more then anything, only to then fill his destroyed mind with visions of their gruesome deaths. Seeing the trails of his daughter’s blood pool from under her bedroom door. To see his wife holding the dead child in her bleeding and bruised arms while yelling that it was Frankie’s fault she was dead.

Or to see his wife laying dead on the floor, his child screaming and crying while looking upon her dead mother, she’s only a baby, not even a year old, and to have to see such a horrific image... A gun shot wound to the side of her head, her daughter looks up, still bawling, to see that it is her father who pulled the trigger.

Frankie’s mind was a terrible and dark place. He hated it. He hated the night. He hated everything. He thought that it might have been better if he ended it, forever. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to put (Y/N) through that pain, he didn’t want his child to grow up without a father. He didn’t want to never be without seeing (Y/N)’s beautiful smile again, or to hear the little happy coos of his baby. He couldn’t leave them. He wouldn’t leave them.

But what kind of a father was he if he had these thoughts? If he had these images of his wife and daughter dead because of him?

And then the screaming started.

His daughter had awakened and she was crying. (Y/N) was still asleep and Frankie was more then happy to tend to his daughter while his loving wife slept soundly in bed.

But the closer he got to the room, the more blood he saw.

The more flashes of gunfire filled his mind. He could hear every cry for help, every plead for mercy. He could feel the heat from every explosion. He could smell the blood, the fire. His hands were filthy with it, dripping red from the blood of the innocent and guilty.

His child’s piercing screams rang through his brain. He lifted his hands to his ears and squeezed his eyes shut but that didn’t do anything. He could hear everything. He could see everything.

His mind spun with anger, pain, frustration. He couldn’t deal with his anymore. His hands fisted his hair, one hand falling and punching the wall. He hadn’t meant to do that. The noise was so loud that his daughters cry’s stopped, in clear fear at what that was.

When Frankie’s vision cleared he saw the dent he had made in the wall of the outside of his daughters room. His fist hadn’t gone all the way through but it had left an obvious mark, it was clear he hand punched the wall.

He stumbled into the baby’s room, it was painfully quiet in there. He looked over the cot and saw his baby staring up at him. Fear in her eyes.

Not ever a year old and already she had the same fear that he felt every day within her. Not even a year old and already she was scared of her father.

Frankie burst into tears. They fell uncontrollably down his cheek and into her cot, wetting the purple sheet she slept on. The baby seemed to hold her little arms out to her father and he didn’t hesitate in lifting her out of her cot. It seemed that she was the one comforting him.

He held her close to him, crying into her little onesie. She made small babbled noises as he began to gently bounce her, whether that was because he was shaking violently he didn’t know. But he was moving regardless.

“I’m sorry...” he whispered to her “I’m sorry baby...” his tears continued to fall “I would never...I would never hurt you. I love you. I love you more than anything. I would never hurt you. I’m so sorry” he was asking forgiveness from someone who could do nothing but mindlessly squeak and coo, she couldn’t even say mummy or daddy yet. And he was expecting her to tell him she forgave him. She didn’t even know what forgiveness was.

He repeated his words over and over again. He still cried. He couldn’t stop himself. His words were a mess. He was a mess. He just wanted her to say it was okay. He wanted her to tell him she forgave him and that she loved him still. But he knew she couldn’t. She wasn’t physically able to yet. So he just held her close, her little hands resting against his chest as she slowly drifted off to sleep again.

But even when he knew she was asleep, he couldn’t bare to part from her. He couldn’t put her back in the cot. That cot was evil. It was going to swallow her. It was going to take her away from him forever. He looked into it and he could see the dark patches of his tears turn to dark stains of blood.

His hands were dripping with it.

He grabbed her little onesie tightly in his hand as he buried his nose into her little neck. Hoping that her smell would ease his pain, that it would bring him peace. But it didn’t. All he could smell was the metallic smell of blood. Her white onesie was now stained red along with everything else. The blood from his hands sinking into her, staining her pure life. But he still didn’t remove her from him. The evil cot was overflowing with red, spilling onto the floor, running under the door. Soon it would reach (Y/N), it would drown her. She would drown in his mistakes, drown in the blood of her daughter. Frankie was wrong not to run after her, to run into the room, pull her out of the bed and hold her close to him. His was wrong to want to save his daughter over his wife. But he didn’t dare move. He was scared to move. Terrified.

He just wished it was over. His wished his mind would stop being so cruel to him. He wished he was able to enjoy what he had. But he couldn’t.

His heart was pounding in his ears. Each beat acting as a cruel remainder that he was still alive and that he was suffering through all this pain. Each beat was another gunshot. Another body hitting the floor, more blood flooding his house.

And then he saw his friends.

Santiago, Benny, Will and Tom.

All lying dead at his feet. A ripped flag thrown over their bodies. They were hero’s, and this was the death they got.

A weight in Frankie’s hand.

He lifted it and saw a gun, smoking, signs of recent fire. He had done it.

He shook his hand violently, he wanted to drop the gun, get rid of it before he could harm his daughter, but it was stuck to him, burned into his skin like a branding mark, reminding him that this is who he was. He wasn’t deserving of a family, of love. He was killer, a murderer. This gun was his mark, a reminder to everyone of what he had done, what he was capable of.

But still he held his daughter close. He couldn’t bare the sight anymore. His eyes were squeezed shut. But the beating didn’t end. It drummed in his ear, it banged. The screams, the explosion, the gun fire, the cries, the pleas, they were all still there.

And then he heard the one thing he didn’t want too. The weakened voice of his wife.

“Frankie...”

His eyes shot open and everything was silent again. The room he was in, his baby’s room, was clear, it was normal. Not a single spec of red in sight. His hands were clean. His daughter was still sleeping in his eyes, peacefully.

He found himself backed into the corner of the room, the one furthest away from that evil cot. Although it didn’t look evil now. It was its normal self. The white bars and purple sheet were what he knew, it was what he could see. And the blanket that (Y/N) had had growing up was laying there too, waiting to be cuddled by his baby.

His eyes dropped to the floor. It was it’s normal grey carpeted self. No blood, no bodies, no ripped flag to cover his friends. Nothing.

“Frankie?” She heard his wife’s voice again. His head shot to the door where she was standing, she was okay. Wearing a white night dress, white. A colour of purity. And it was white, it wasn’t stained by the red of his mistakes. She was his light. His white, pure, angelic light. She had come to save him. She had come to tell him it was okay. She had come to tell him that his daughter forgives him.

She took a few cautious steps towards him, he turned his body slightly away from her, sheltering his baby. He didn’t know why. She was not the danger, he was. But he still didn’t want to part from his baby. He thought that even this normality could be a trick. He would hand over the child to its mother and it would all start again, he would hand over the lifeless body of the baby and watch her mother burst into tears as her baby’s blood dripped through her fingers. And then she would scream at him like she had done before in his nightmares. She would say it was his fault, and then she would melt away, or she would collapse in a lifeless heap onto the floor, the gun Frankie had used to kill his friends had been used on her.

(Y/N) read his timid body language. She didn’t move any close to him, she didn’t try to touch him as much as she wanted to. She didn’t even use words. She just stood there. But that’s all he needed. He just needed her white light to be in front of him, to take the time to shine away the darkness in his mind. He wanted her purity to cleanse him, to destroy his past, to wipe clean these walls of the room they were in. Only moving when all was said and done.

He looked down at his daughter who was still sleeping in his arms. He looked to the cot and stared at his for a short moment, just to make sure it was safe. Once he was sure it was clear, he took careful steps towards it, hovering over it for a second before placing her inside. His hands didn’t leave her until he was sure she was safe. She immediately reached out for the blanket, pulling it into her arms.

Frankie gripped the top bar of the cot tightly as he continued to look at his child. She seemed safe, she seemed peaceful. And that was enough for Frankie.

And then he felt a gentle touch on his arm. A touch that could only come from one person. He turned his face to look at his wife who gave him a gentle look. She flattened her hand on his bicep. A warmth flooded his body, relief and happiness with it. She stepped a little closer to him and placed a kiss onto his skin.

He wanted her to kiss him forever. Kiss his pain away. Kiss every part of him until he was cured, until the world stopped punishing him. Her lips so soft and warm, her hand small against him.

She didn’t have to say anything to him. She already knew what was wrong. She knew what he was dealing with, well, maybe not entirely like she wished but she knew his past haunted him. It wasn’t the first time she had found him crying in their daughters bedroom, but it was the first time she had found his cowering in the corner, sobbing, holding their baby so close to him like he was scared she was going to be ripped from him, but of course, he was scared of that.

She slipped her hand onto his chest, running her fingers up his skin and resting it over his heart. She felt his heart beat, rapid with fear and anxiety. But when she touch him, it was like she was pouring new life into him. She was pouring her happiness into his heart, slowing it down, making it cleaner.

With her other hand, she lifted his from the cot and interlaced her fingers with his. She lifted his hand to her lips and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles. He turned his body to face her, looking down at her beautiful face. He didn’t know what he did to be gifted with her, gifted with an angel, but he was happy she was his.

She moved her hand from his heart, sliding it up his collar bone, his neck, jaw and stopping at his scruffy cheek. He leaned into her touch, letting his eyes slip closed so he could just feel her warmth for a moment. Her thumb gently stroked his skin, he lifted his free hand to rest on top of hers, he wanted her closer to him.

He slipped his fingers from hers and wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, her chest pressing against his. He turned his face and pressed a kiss to her palm. He then wrapped his other arm around her waist, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck. He buried his face into her neck breathing in her sweet scent. He felt his tears start to fall again. But she didn’t try to stop him. Her fingers threaded through his hair and she let him cry. He wasn’t sobbing quiet as much as what he was when holding his baby, a gently cry instead.

She let one hand fall from his hair and stroke across his broad back, she traced over the scars that were littered there from his past. Her fingers had healing powers he believed. She would touch a scar and it would cease to exist, it would disappear, there would be no trace of it on his skin. He just wished that power would transfer to getting rid of his mental pain.

“My love...” she whispered to him. She didn’t intend on continuing her words, she just wanted to remind him of who he was to her. Her love. Her one true love, her one and only. The father of her child, the love of her life, everything.

He fisted the back of her nightdress. Those two simple words made him forget about everything. He didn’t feel angry, he didn’t feel anxious, he didn’t feel scared or frustrated, he felt...peaceful. Finally.

He lifted his face from her neck and looked at her, she moved her hands back to his cheeks and he did the same to her. Touching her delicate skin, her sweet skin, her pure skin. His forehead fell against hers, his tears had stopped. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to tell her what he had seen, what he had felt. He couldn’t put those thoughts into her precious body. He couldn’t put those imagines into her pure brain. How was he to tell her that he had seen their baby dead, he had seen the corpses of his friends, he had seen her dead, and that it was all his fault?

She shushed him. She gave him a smile. He didn’t need to tell her anything. He nodded, his thumbs stroked over her cheek and he dared to lean forwards and steal a kiss from her. She had judged that he was worthy of receiving one of her healing kisses. She kissed him with a huge amount of love, softness and care. He was happy, she loved him. She wasn’t ready to give up on him even though he had given up on himself. Or maybe he hadn’t just yet. Maybe he hadn’t given up on himself, being with her made him keep going, he felt stronger when he was with her. He could face his problems if he had her, they would still be painful but he would shine away the darkness, she would guide him through his dark road, she would bring him out safely. She would bring him home.

Frankie pulled back from her lips. He didn’t know why he did what he did next but he found himself lifting her off the ground, her legs wrapping around his waist, he held her close to him, his hands flat against her back. He looked over to his daughter who was safe in her cot. He left the bedroom, the door remained slightly open so he would be able to hear if she woke again.

He carried his beautiful angel back to their bed. He laid her onto the soft sheets and laid beside her. His arms still around her and her leg still resting on his waist. “My love” she said again.

“My love...” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly. “My love...my baby...my angel...my everything...” he was desperate. Desperate for her love, for her comfort, her forgiveness. But he didn’t need to look for it. She gave him her love, her comfort, her forgiveness. For now he said nothing more. Neither did she. They just stayed in each other’s arms. They stayed in each other’s love.

He hated that he was like this. This was not a life for her and their baby. And he hated that even in this moment, this perfect moment, he knew that the same would happen again the next night and the next, and the next. His suffering would never end, but with her help he could control it, make it less controlling. He could learn to deal with it so it doesn’t effect him as badly as it did tonight.

He hated that he knew that this was just another night. 

Masterlist

09/05/20

#francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #fracisco catfish morales x reader #francisco catfish morales fanfic #triple frontier #angst #fluff #pedro pascal #fanfic

[jawabear]

A Letter To My Love (”Catfish” x Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: Hi, so this is a little different to the others. its not technically an ‘x reader’ fic, but regardless, I hope you enjoy it. Also, I had a second Idea that is similar to this, one that I a little bit more of an ‘x reader’ fic, and one that is less depressing, so let me know if you would like to read that too. Sorry for any mistakes :)

Genre: Angst

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of death, mentions of talk of suicide, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning

Summary: Frankie takes a moment to reflect on his love 

(Y/N), 

My dear, sweet (Y/N). My darling love. 

It has been a year since you left, one whole year exactly since I held your hand as you faded from this world. One year since you last told me you love me. One year since I last saw your sweet smile.

I can’t believe I waited a year to do this. But I thought we had time baby. I thought we had more time to spend together. I thought we would be able to live a life before you left. Now I’ll have to live in regret for not asking you to marry me sooner. I was so ready, ready to spend the rest of my life with you, my sweet girl. We would’ve had our wedding in the spring, outside. Santiago would’ve been my best man, he would’ve gave some stupid speech at the table, and you would’ve laughed, you would’ve lightened my heart with that sweet laugh of yours, my love.

And then we could’ve tried for a baby. I wouldn’t have cared if it were a boy or a girl, but I would’ve loved to have a baby girl with you. She would have your beautiful eyes. Those beautiful eyes. We would’ve called her Sofia. Or whatever you wanted. Having a child with you was a dream of mine. Just to be with you forever was a dream of mine.

God, I miss you so much. I miss just hearing your voice, seeing your face. I miss us sitting together, just talking, just being together. I’m crying my fucking eyes out while writing this. I know it wasn’t your fault. And I know you are in a better place now, you are safe from the cruelty of this world. But the pain is unbearable, especially today when I am reminded of the amazing woman I lost a year ago.

The guys try and cheer my up, doing everything they can to make me happy again, but without you, I’m scared I won’t ever know what happiness is again. You were my happiness. You are my happiness. I’ve stained all our photo albums with tears. I always think that looking through our memories will make me happy again, but then I get to the empty pages and cry because I know we can never fill them now. Perhaps they would’ve been used for our wedding and our baby.

But on my desk I still have that picture of us from that one summer. Do you remember it? I had just gotten out the army, I was free, and you took me down to the beach. You looked so beautiful that day. You looked so happy. You smiled so brightly. It warms my heart to look at the picture. But I wish I could see it again. I sometimes think that maybe I should hide all of our pictures, save myself from the hurt, but I think I’m really only still alive because I have them to look at. Even though it is only a picture, it’s you. And I know how much you loved our pictures, especially the ones I hated. You were always telling my how cute I look in them. You were always filling me with confidence.

And even when I didn’t deserve you, you were there. When I ruined my life with that fucking drug bust and lost my licence, you were there for me. You didn’t leave like you should’ve. You told me that I was worth every second of you time, that I was worth saving, even if I didn’t believe it myself. And you helped my get clean, even after South America, you stayed. But you should’ve left me, you deserved better than me. But I’m so glad you stayed with me. I’m so glad you were there for me. And I never thanked you enough for it. I don’t think I could. I owe you my life but it seems you gave yours for me.

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I should’ve tried harder. But I did try. I feel like I let you down. I should’ve saved you. I know that you told me I couldn’t, but still, I should’ve tried.

And I know you told me not to wait, to go on and find love somewhere else, but I won’t be able to. How can I love another woman when my dream girl is gone? I can’t love someone the way I loved you. It’s impossible. I can’t share my life with someone else. I don’t want to share my life with anyone else. I wanted to marry you, I wanted to have a child with you. I don’t want anyone else.

But I promised you I would look. I promised you I would try to find someone else to love, and it will probably take years but that’s okay. I don’t even have to find anyone else. And then eventually, when it’s my time to leave, we can meet again, my love.

When you first died I thought of joining you. Ending it so I could be with you again. But I knew you wouldn’t want that, so I promised myself to live my life for you. I’ll do everything you wanted to. And I’ll take you with me. I’ll save enough money to take us to New Zealand so you can see it. I’ll take you to the beaches, to the forests, everywhere around the county. And then we can go to Hawaii. I’ll show you the world baby.

Even in death you’re changing my life, you’re making me a better person. You really are amazing. You are now my angel. You have to believe me now, because it’s literal. My sweet love.

I guess all there is to do now is to remind you that I love you. Remind you that you are the absolute love of my life and I will never ever forget you, for as long as I live. You are my life. I will live for you. And I hope to God that you stay with me forever in spirit. That you give me the same strength when I need it. I hope that you will make yourself known to me when I need you. And most of all, I hope you will still love me should we meet again. Because even when I die, I want to be with you.

My darling (Y/N), you changed my life, you made me a better person, you made me forget about that nightmare that is my past, you comforted me every day even if you didn’t realise you were doing it and I will forever be grateful to have known you in life. I will live and love for you.

I will love you forever. I promise you this.

Frankie

27/05/20

#francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #fracisco catfish morales x reader #francisco catfish morales fanfic #triple frontier #angst #pedro pascal #fanfic