#frankie ‘catfish’ morales

[maximoff-forevermore]

Memories

Summary: You and your fiancé, Frankie "Catfish" Morales, get into a car accident.

Warnings: No use of Y/N, mentions of SA, child abuse, child SA, mentions of abusive relationship (not between Frankie and reader), mentions of drug use, allusions to murder (self-defence), mentions of military, mentions of divorce, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, mentions of anxiety, drugs, no happy ending, barely edited, I think that's all? If I've missed something, let me know

A/N: I kind of stole this idea from a friend of mine, @/ramblers-let's-get-ramblin. She said she sort of dumped all of her trauma into a google doc and made it a fic, and I did the same thing. This is kind of a mopefest, and I've never written anything and posted it before, so I hope you enjoy, as much as you can, anyway.

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

You remember sitting in front of a fireplace.

Winter had come in the lashing of wind on the windows, glass shaking and a roof made of heartbreak and filth barely withstanding the cold it had withstood many times before.

You had held your sister close, your blood, your only love, to your chest, whispering in her ear as she cried over her first breakup.

When her sobs had eased, and the spot of your skin her shoulder dug into had grown numb, you whispered, “You will find the right one.”

You whispered those words a lot.

Whispered them into your pillow, into the mirror, into your own hand to muffle your cries as the second, then third and fourth stepfather took what he wanted from you.

You needed to remember those words.

If you were being completely honest, the first time you let a man put a ring on your finger, you knew he had not been the right one.

You knew because you did not know him.

All you knew was that he had a house without the echo of your mother’s vicious screams and a bed for you to sleep in that would not be tainted with the hands of men who never asked.

At least marrying him was something akin to permission.

At least a wedding ring would stave anyone else off.

And so, you married him.

The man you did not know, the man who believed to love you but truly wanted to possess you, you married him.

With time, you came to love him.

Professionals would have called it something like Stockholm Syndrome, but for you, then, it had been love.

You never left the house—simply were not allowed to.

You studied online, but only in the dark, hiding your laptop screen from the man you loved.

You justified it, merely saying he would support you when the time came.

He worked, he slept, he ate, he fucked, though not always you, and it hurt when it wasn’t you, but in the darker part of your mind, you knew it was best.

You forgot what it was like to leave the house, to live under a sun and to live with love and laughter and friends.

Your sister stayed in touch, but she was the only one.

Eventually, through a sequence of unspeakable events, of bruises all over your body and blood on a nightgown that barely fit, you would sit in a courtroom for months, and, finally, listen to the judge call it “self-defence”.

The judge said a lot of things, as did the lawyers.

You didn’t listen to any of them.

There was this harrowing silence within you, it drew in the things of everyone around you, melting them, turning them into puddles of distance, where their faces blurred and their words, sometimes accusations and sometimes comforts, fell on ears that weren’t yours because surely if they were yours you would be able to use them?

You had thought, during those months, that perhaps no pain or silence would ever live up to that.

You had been wrong.

Now, you lie in a hospital bed, a few years later.

Years spent healing, loving, learning, studying, and now, finally, dying.

Your sister had said it with such relief.

“You won’t die. You’re going to be fine.”

No. Lie.

You were dying. That’s what this feeling was.

It had to be death.

You had not answered, staring ahead, waiting for one person to step into your line of vision.

Frankie. Your Frankie.

It was a coma.

Your Frankie locked in a coma.

How he would hate to ever be such a thing.

You knew it, because you knew him.

Loved him, as he knew and loved you.

You had healed together, learned together, loved together, grown together.

You had met when he and a horrid, filthy drug pierced his system, and he needed it to.

You had “cut right through his bullshit”, as he always said when he told the story, refusing to go out with him.

He always said he changed because you didn’t ask him to.

You had not given him conditions, you had not asked him to grow or be someone new, you had looked at him, seen him for what he was, and denied him.

You had needed him to be someone he wasn’t, so you had said no, instead of asking him to be different.

And thus, he had changed.

Changed because he had needed you, exactly as you were, and would not stop until you could be his as much as he was already yours.

He joked in the years after the first kiss, joked that his heart had buried itself behind your ear the first time his fingers had brushed yours as he handed you a drink.

For Halloween, you had asked to go as Morticia and Gomez Addams.

“It fits us,” you said, grinning broadly, wooden spoon in your hand as you stirred his favourite.

You always made his favourite, he always whispered that anything you made was his favourite, so maybe you were cheating.

But still, it was his favourite.

That was all that mattered.

Frankie shook his head. “No.”

You were dumbfounded. He never said no to you.

The first few months you’d scolded him for it, telling him he needed to tell you when he wasn’t okay, when he needed to say no.

He promised he would, but he never said no.

This might have been the first time, so you nodded. “Okay. Sure.”

He shrugged, moving around the kitchen island, coming up behind you, his arms like puzzle pieces fitting around your waist.

Perfect.

The two of you were perfect together.

He pressed a kiss to the back of your head. “I just think we should save Morticia and Gomez for when we get married.”

You leaned back into his words, smiling a smile you thought your lips would never be capable of. “When we get married?”

“When,” he promised into your scalp, smile matching yours.

The ring wasn’t on your finger now.

Someone else was keeping it, you weren’t sure who, but it wouldn’t fit on your left hand, aching and swollen and bandaged.

The doctors would not say anything to you at first, then they said he was in a coma.

When they finally told you his condition, you had screamed.

Screamed so loud you knew the sleep of some of the other patients had been disturbed.

You had sobbed and wailed and one of the nurses had tried to calm you, explaining that the vicious pain all throughout your torso was from your injuries, but you deserved it.

Deserved the cuts and scrapes and stabs and stitches because you were here and he was not and there was nothing that could right that wrong but the pain of your body was a step.

Eventually, they called your sister, and your other sister who was not yours by blood but yours all the same and they had held you.

Flowers sat at your bedside table, flowers for the wounds, oh, but the wounds meant nothing.

Nothing next to the pain inside.

The injuries, you supposed, were a happy coincidence.

Because they kept you bedridden, and the only thing that had kept you from suicide was the fact that you simply had not the muscles nor movement to do so.

The nurse had come in later, when the tears had stopped but not dried, when the screaming had stopped coming from your mouth but still echoed in your mind, and told you to sleep.

You didn’t.

Your eyelids were so heavy, your body so stiff, your head aching.

You didn’t close your eyes, lest you miss it.

People talked about hallucinations, about losing a loved one and seeing them afterwards.

So you kept your eyes open.

Waiting. Looking. Watching.

You needed to see him.

You needed it.

Craved it.

But he wasn’t there.

And that wasn’t fair.

You had been through so much, so many hands, so many locked doors, so many tears, surely you were insane?

Surely you saw things that weren’t there?

He wasn’t here.

So you had to see him.

You didn’t, though.

You didn’t see anyone.

Your sisters came again the following morning, with soft smiles and softer words and the softest hands.

They said your mother wanted to visit.

Your chest was too tight to say anything, but your sister who shared your soul and not your blood touched your hand—not gripped it, for fear of broken bones and split skin—and promised she would never let that happen.

Frankie’s brothers, his military brothers, came to visit you, too.

You cried when you saw them, they cried with you.

Santiago had sat next to you as everyone else began to filter out.

He’d opened his mouth, and you knew what he’d been about to say.

“Don’t,” you whispered, tears burning their way up your throat. “I don’t care. I just—I can’t, please. Not—not right now.”

He had nodded, tears in his own eyes, holding you to his shoulder carefully as sobs so violent they ripped stitches wracked your broken body.

Santiago had gone with Frankie that day, many days ago, now, to change his will and leave everything to you.

Frankie and Santiago had both thought it a secret, but Frankie’s beautiful, little girl had come running to you, and you had known for months.

You didn’t want to hear about the will. Not now.

Not ever.

You talked about it often, the money Frankie had come into when his absent, Scrooge McDuck–type of father had died, and, for some unknown reason, left it all to Frankie.

It was a running joke; the rich, older man you’d swindled, the money you’d ultimately have because of the ring he was always planning to put on your finger.

Truthfully, the money had always meant shit to you.

Growing up poor as dirt, money had been a luxury, and you would never take it for granted.

But around Frankie?

Money meant nothing.

There was no richness to compare to the richness of the laughter he gave you when you cracked a foul joke, no amount of swimming in pools of gold to compare to swimming in pools of water with his arms around you and your legs around him.

Money was four letters short of happiness, because you needed nine letters to spell Francisco.

When Santiago left, Frankie’s ex trundled in, having stayed good friends with Frankie after the divorce and hitting it off with you.

There had been something special about it, exchanging stories and tears and memories with her, while Frankie’s daughter napped with her head painfully digging into the ruin the car had left of your thigh.

Then the nurse had ushered them out, and you’d asked if your sister could come back.

The nurse couldn’t say no, not to you, not with a ruined body and a worse heart, so your sister had come back briefly.

You had asked her to bring your laptop.

“You can barely type,” she had said.

You shook your head. “I need to. Please. Please let me put this somewhere.”

Your words slurred, either from the drugs coming through the IV in your hand or the cuts on your face.

Your sister had nodded, kissing your forehead, avoiding your damage, and the nurse handed you the laptop about an hour later.

She was right.

You could barely type.

Still, you had to write something.

Something broken. Something unfinished. Something sad. Something lonely.

Something like you.

Writing was never your thing, it was just something you did.

In your room, in between school and homework and nights you didn’t speak of, you wrote.

You wrote a lot in the time you spent locked in a house with a ring on your finger and not a soul who knew you but a sister you couldn’t see.

You’d lost it, getting out, turning to studies that consumed your time, turning to Frankie.

You found it again now, with hands that can barely type, a body in pain but barely noticeable.

You know you don’t really feel it.

Not yet.

The realising will come later.

You doubt you’ll survive.

You won’t have to leave the hospital, not for a good long while, and that’s the biggest relief you could possibly get.

You don’t have to eat. You don’t have to think.

You can just lie here, pain eating away at every muscle you own, half-curled into yourself as your tears refuse to let your pillow dry, thinking about Frankie.

Every memory you have, every smile he gave you, every moment, you lie there and stare at nothing while you think about him.

You may never think about anything else ever again.

You don’t know if you have the strength.

Everyone around you is waiting for you to snap. For the ball to drop and for you to start screaming and throwing blame.

You can’t.

Anger takes energy, anger requires for there to be something within you.

There’s nothing left.

You’re a hollow shell of a creature, the only thing you’re capable of doing is remembering.

You messaged a few friends online. You’re grateful for all of them. There’s this understanding between you, that you’re going to act like a normal person with a normal life, and they’re going to let you. They don’t avoid it, but they don’t mention it, not unless you do.

That means more than they think. For them to let you pretend, for them to pretend with you.

Sometimes they help bring you back to reality, telling you it’s going to suck and nothing will feel right.

That helps.

You don’t know what else could possibly help you, but you think you might have a suspicion.

So you get someone to bring you a pillow, put it on your lap and place your laptop on top, like a makeshift desk.

You start typing.

Stories, memories, Frankie.

You’ve heard of people who avoid the names of their spouses but you can’t. Won’t.

You can’t stop saying it, writing it.

He needs to be alive, he has to be, or else whatever remains of you will fade into nothing.

He has to be alive somewhere.

So you write.

Tomorrow, you don’t think you’ll have the energy to do such a thing.

You find you don’t have much energy, not anymore.

For now, you write.

It’s all you can do.

Someday, what’s left of your resolve will drip away into the hollowness of where Frankie should be.

Then you’ll wither away into a shadow, into a broken doll forgotten under the bed.

Either that shadow will regrow into a person, or it won’t.

You have no idea which it might be, and you’re scared.

You wrap yourself in memories and tears so you might continue to feel, but wrapping yourself is so tiring.

You’re so tired.

You’ve been hospitalised for four days, awake for two, maybe three.

You have no idea how you’re supposed to live past midnight tonight.

Maybe you won’t.

Maybe your injuries and your hurt and your hollowness will carry you away in the night, never to be seen again.

Maybe all that’s left of you will be the words on paper that you give to Frankie.

Maybe that’s all you want.

To be with Frankie.

Whether in his arms, or two words on a page, or in the ground, you just want to be with him.

Maybe you’ll live.

Maybe you won’t.

The doctors had come into your room three times.

The first, they refused to tell you anything.

The second, they said he was in a coma.

The third time—

True happiness was nine letters long, while death only four.

But four had been enough.

Tags: @planet-marz1 @catchallfangirl @pamasaur @janaispunk

#frankie ‘catfish’ morales #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie ‘catfish’ morales x f!reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #angst #very angsty pookie #my writing

[bullet-prooflove]

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When a character is assigned I will add them to the bingo card so you can see it. (similar to the Xmas Bingo card)

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The event will run throughout Feb which means ongoing series and fics will be pushed back until after the event.

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[albertasunrise]

Could we get one fic about Frankie and reader after their divorce? Maybe they divorced because of the mission and his coke addiction and lot of broken promises. But they still share kid. And they still love each other. What if he gets better and they secretly starts to date again? Maybe their daughter get mad at mama for starting dating because she want their parents to be together again and she do not know they are dating each other. Maybe little hurt and comfort?

Second Chances - Oneshot

Masterlist

Pairings: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to list any warnings. (I looooove this request. Sorry it took me so long to write it ♥️ I had it half written out but then I just got busy... Hope it was worth the wait)

You shouldn’t have been surprised after two years of being divorced that he’d finally jump back on the wagon. He was handsome, kind, an amazing father and everything a woman should ever want in a man. It had been a mutual decision to get divorced but it hadn’t hurt any less. You’d maintained a relationship with him for your then, one-year-old daughter, but the truth of it was… you’d never stopped loving him. 

South America was what had killed your marriage. You’d begged and pleaded with him not to go but he’d sworn that this job would change your lives for the better. 

Instead, he’d come back empty-handed and down a friend. You’d tried to forgive him but the hurt had just been too great this time. You had understood the drugs to a certain degree. They’d helped him cope with his demons but when Mia had been born, you’d told him it was the drugs or his family. 

He quit cold Turkey. 

Unfortunately, however, his supplier hadn’t taken well to that and had planted drugs on his bird. This led to his suspension from flying. Two weeks after he’d come back, they’d cleared him and you’d been the first person he’d called but it had ended up such an awkward conversation. That excitement had been extinguished the moment he’d chosen to leave. 

Two years on, things had improved. You were able to spend time together without it feeling forced or awkward. You took it in turn to have Mia each week. He’d found an apartment not far from the house so she was able to see him regularly. It all was surprisingly easygoing but the news you’d received when picking your daughter up that afternoon just threw a spanner into the works. 

“A date.” You managed to squeak, inwardly scorning yourself for your reaction. 

“Yeah. Uh… Well, she’s a friend of Will’s. He met her through his fiancé. Said she’s nice.” He replied nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck “Worth meeting her, right?” 

“I guess.” You replied with a shrug and his brows drew together. 

“You guess?” He asked, “Are you okay with it?” 

“I have no right not to be.” You answered and he sighed “I guess I just never thought you’d move on so quickly.” You finished, shrugging your shoulders lightly. 

“So quickly?” He scoffed “I’ve waited 2 years, hoping we’d find our way back to each other but I’m done waiting. I don’t want to be alone anymore.” 

“Frankie I-“ 

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that but I do still care about you and if me going on a date upsets you then I won’t go.” He said simply and you felt your stomach twist. 

“No, you go.” You said, trying your hardest to keep your voice level “You deserve to be happy.” 

He nodded then handed you Mia’s bag as he called out for your daughter. When she barrelled into your legs, you told her to say your goodbyes, that spoke your own and left. 

Sobbing silently to yourself the whole way home. 

~ 

A knock on your door tore you from your show. Glancing at the clock, you scrunched your face in confusion at the time. 

Who could that possibly be? 

Your question was quickly answered when you opened the door to reveal a nervous Frankie and your stomach dropped. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, noting how upset he seemed “I thought you had your date tonight?“ 

“I did.” He replied, eyes wet and bloodshot. 

“So?” 

“So it went great. Amazingly even but when we got back to hers and things started to happen-“ 

“I don’t need to hear this Frank.” 

“I suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He said, choking on a sob as he let out a stuttered breath. 

“Whatever helps you, Frank.”

“What do you want from me?” He sobbed “I tell you I’ve got a date and you get weird with me. Then I go on it, and I’m so hung up on how you reacted that I can’t get it up. I left there feeling fucking foolish because I’m holding out hope that my ex-wife still loves me.” 

“What?” You asked, stepping back in shock “What are you trying to say?” 

“That I don’t wanna do this again.” He sobbed and your face dropped 

“Oh.” 

“I mean dating. Getting to know someone new and learning about what they like and don’t like.” He stated “I want to come home to my family. To come home to you smiling up at me as you grade papers whilst Mia plays dress-up.” He paused, scraping a hand over his face to rid himself of his tears “I want stability and familiarity. I don’t want to start from scratch.” 

You stepped closer to him. Taking his shaky hand in yours and placing a soft kiss on his knuckles. Then, you looked up and into those dark brown eyes that had captured your heart all those years ago. The air crackled between you as you breathed him in and then, he closed the distance. 

The kiss felt like him. 

It was soft and sweet, yet passionate and loving. It made your toes curl and your spine tingle, then when you finally parted… you smiled. 

“I don’t want that either.” 

“Okay.” He said with a small nod before placing a soft peck on your lips “So what now?” 

“What about dinner?” You suggested and he grinned at you. 

“Sounds good.” 

~

Three months on and things were going strong. You’d been on several dates but had opted not to tell your daughter for now. She’d been begging you for a while to ‘love Papi again’ and so you didn’t want to get her hopes up in case it didn’t work out. 

“I don't wan' you go, mumma.” Mia screamed as she stomped her foot in true toddler fashion. 

“I won’t be late, sweetheart.” You promised as you knelt to kiss her furrowed brow. 

“Why does Unky Ben have me… why not Papi.” She sobbed and your heart twisted a little as you lied to her. 

“Because Papi’s got to work late tonight sweetheart.” 

“I want Papi.” She shrieked and you looked up at Ben who was watching the scene with amusement. 

Not even they knew that you were actually going on a date with Frankie. You’d decided to keep it a secret from everyone until you felt that the time was right but it was getting harder to lie now. 

How many more times could you get the Miller’s to sit before they cottoned on? 

“Getting serious with this chap then.” He said when you finally got your toddler to stop screaming. 

“I hope so.” You said shyly, eyes drifting to Mia who’s opted to play Helicopters. 

“She still bugging you to get back with Fish?” He asked and you nodded. 

“I get it. Who doesn’t want their parents to get back together? But it's just so messy and complicated.” You said with a sigh. 

“Hey, I get it.” Ben said, holding his hands up ‘Come from a broken home, remember?” 

“I’d hardly say ours is broken.” 

“Well, it ain’t whole.” Ben interjected and you sighed. 

“I guess not.” You replied sadly. 

“Bye, sweetie.” You called out, wincing at the look you received in return. 

“You not going to say bye to mummy Mia?” Ben asked as he stepped towards the toddler. 

“Nope… mummy replace Papi.” She grumbled, “I hate her.” 

That final statement broke you and you sprinted out into the evening air, desperate to keep yourself together long enough that your daughter didn’t see you cry. 

You'd walked quickly to where Frankie said he'd pick you up from and you were relieved to see his truck sat waiting. You'd more or less managed to pull yourself together by the time you clambered into his truck but there are no hiding things from Francisco. He could read you like an open book.

"What's wrong?" He asked as his brow pulled together to form a concerned frown. 

"Just had our three-year-old toddler tell Ben she hates me because I'm replacing her father." You sobbed "I'm not sure how much longer I can do this." 

"You want to break up?" He asked suddenly and your head whipped up to look him in the eye.

"What? NO!" You yelped, shocked he'd jump. to that conclusion. "I just mean that I'm not sure how much longer I can keep us a secret from her." 

"Then we fess up." He stated simply "Ben and Will have their annual grill off this weekend. Why don't we tell everyone then?" 

"You sure?" You asked, biting your thumbnail nervously as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

"Baby, I have no intention of fucking this up a second time." He replied with nothing be sincerity in his features "I'm so happy that we've found our way back to each other and I'm gonna do whatever it takes to make this last." 

"I'm glad to Frank." You replied, smiling sweetly at him as he leaned in to kiss you "Now can we eat, I'm starving." You finished after he pecked your lips affectionately and he nodded, giving you his signature wink before pulling away. 

~

Grill day... 

Mia loved to visit her Uncles Will and Ben. Mainly because, like her father, she loved to swim and spent as much time as she could in their pool. You were nervous about today, however. Today was the day that you were going to come clean to the group that you and Frankie had gotten back together. But it was also the weekend that some other truths would come out. 

There were two major secrets you'd been keeping. You just hoped they'd be well received. 

Frankie arrived a little after you and he grinned when his daughter clambered out of the pool and sprinted over to him. Leaving a toddler-shaped wet patch on his burgundy button-up. You and he shared a look and brief hellos before he made his way over to Ben and Will who were already arguing over who would win the grill off. 

It had started as a joke but each year they had you all gather at theirs and judge who was better on the grill. So far Will had one every time. 

Soon the smells that filled the air made everyone's stomachs start to grumble. Frank of course joined Mia in the pool, tossing her when she asked or playing splash. You watched from afar, your heart swelling at the sight of your husband and your daughter together. 

Husband... Did I say, Husband? 

"Foods up." Called Will and everyone gathered around the table that you'd carefully laid out. Mia sat on Ben's lap whilst everyone ate, telling him all about her new friend at school and how she'd given her a new Moana scrunch that was now her absolute favourite. 

You were sat beside Frank, watching your daughter talk her favourite uncles eat off as he nodded along to everything she so energetically told him. A hand grabbing your knee pulled your attention to the man beside you and you glanced at him a moment, smiling sweetly at him as you grabbed it and gave it a squeeze. 

"So how's it going with that guy you've been seeing?" Asked Will, smirking at the irritated huff that escaped your daughter. 

"Good yead... Getting pretty serious." You replied, trying your hardest not to smirk. 

"What about you Catfish?" Ben asked as he wiped the BBQ moustache off of Mia "You been seeing anyone?" 

"Yeah actually." He replied casually. 

"Not you too Papi." Mia squealed, her eyes growing wide. 

"And you guys are okay with this?" Will asked, motioning between the two of you. 

"More than okay." You said sweetly before you looked at Frank with a smile, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on his lips. 

Mia's dramatic gasp rendered you all speechless. 

"Mumma... U smooch Papi." She screeched and you nodded before looking between Ben and Will who were equally gobsmacked. 

"You two?" Will asked. 

"Yup." 

"Back together." Pushed Ben. 

"Affirmative." 

"Like... Together together." 

"Yes, Ben." Frankie replied, smirking at his friends' obvious confusion. 

"Mummy love Papi again?" Asked Mia and you smiled sweetly at your toddler as you nodded. 

"Mummy never stopped sweetheart." You replied, smiling when Frank's arm snaked around your shoulders to pull you close. 

"Shi-sheesh Guys, this is amazing," Ben stated in disbelief.

"Thanks, Ben." You replied happily "And nice save." 

"Ta." 

"I actually have more news." You stated, pulling away from Frankie so you could look him in the eye before down at your hands "I uh... Well, I have a confession to make." 

"Confession?" Frank asked, his expression morphing into one of confusion and mild panic. 

"I uh... Well, I never actually um..." You struggled to find the words, your heart in your throat as you glanced at everyone. 

"Never actually what?" Will pushed and you sighed. 

"I never actually sent the papers off." 

"Papers?" 

"Our divorce papers." You said finally and everyone's expressions changed "We're um... Well, we're still married, Frank." 

"We are?" He asked, his expression impossible to read. 

"Yeah... I uh... Well, I went to do it but then when it came to it I couldn't." You said, your nervousness plain to see "I guess I too was holding out hope we'd work all this out." 

"Huh." Frank hummed and you started to panic then. 

"Shit... Crap... Sorry... Mia don't repeat those words." You said, turning to look at your daughter a moment before returning your attention to Frankie "I'm so sorry Frank I just-" 

His lips on yours silenced you then and you practically sobbed in relief when he pulled away and smiled at you. 

"Nothing to be sorry for." He said, grinning from ear to ear "This is the best news I've received in a long time." 

"Well, hold that thought." You said, grabbing your bag and pulling out a small nondescript box. 

Handing it to him, you watched nervously as he opened it, pulling out the envelope at the top to reveal what sat underneath it. His eyes grew wide as he stared at him before his head shot up to look at you. 

"Really?" He asked and you nodded. 

"Surprise." You said, waving your hands by your head as you smiled nervously at him. 

He opened the envelope next and his hand flew to his mouth as he looked at its contents. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he looked at you again before pulling you into a biting kiss that soothed your frayed nerves. 

"What the duck is going on?" Ben yelled.

"Bad word!" Mia scorned. 

"I said, duck." 

"I'm pregnant." You replied, smirking at Ben and your daughter before Frankie placed when you'd given him on the table for everyone to see. 

A Clearblue test the stated pregnant on the digital screen and the scan pictures from the scan you'd gone to the day before. You'd been so caught up in everything with Frankie that you'd not realised that you'd missed a whole two periods. So, after taking the tests, you'd asked your nurse friend nicely to do you a solid and she'd gotten you in for a test the following day. 

"What that?" Mia asked as she pointed at the pictures on the table. 

"That's your new baby brother or sister." Will said as he bopped her nose. 

"Oooooh." She replied, wiggling in her uncle's lap "Thank you. I wan' sister pwease." 

"We don't get a choice on what it is bebita." Said Frankie as he chuckled at his daughter's request.

"At least try mummy." She pleaded, looking at you with her soulful brown eyes "Pwease." 

"I'll do my best sweetheart." You said cuddled into Frank, smiling when he placed his hand over where your new baby resided "I promise." 

Tags: @hayley-the-comet @ajeff855 @mavericksicybabe @supernaturalgirl20 @dihra-vesa @nicolethered @practicalghost @theanothersherlockian @gallowsjoker @little-mrs-morales @sunnshineeexoxo @aliwritesfic @maryfanson @sherala007 @ayrusss @greeneyedblondie44 @elegantduckturtle @jediknight122 @goodgriefitsawildworld @voteforpedro09 @vanered15 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @mishasminion360 @snacswell @giggly-otter @athalien @mssbridgerton @huitzilinthebudgie3 @samanthacookieone @salome-c @radcollectivesoul @pedrohoe04 @thekohakuriver1 @paintlavillered @ktmadden86 @hotchlover @kirsteng42 @djjarins @balekanemohafe @misscampacyn @dreamalittlebiggerdarling @pedromandoverse @destiny-tsukino @mysun-n-stars @tombraider42017 @littlemisspascal @thatpinkshirt @bison-writes @evyiione @girlofchaos @vanemando15

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie ‘catfish’ morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales triple frontier #francisco morales triple frontier #francisco morales x you #francisco morales fanfiction #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #triple frontier x you #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal

[dancelikedwaekki]

#for the girls and the gays #Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales #Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia #pedro pascal #oscar issac #triple frontier

[sn1peraj]

Can anyone actually do pedro fanfic without a fucking age gap! Ffs! He deserves more fucking respect then shit like that!

#Pedro Pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal last of us #joel miller #tlou hbo spoilers #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrohub #last of us hbo #frankie morales #frankie morales triple frontier #frankie ‘catfish’ morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fanfic #javi pena #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction

[buck-this-nasty]

Does anyone know if Pedro Pascal is in the LA area? I just need a confirmation on whether or not I just saw him 🥹

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal characters #javier peña #din djarin #frankie ‘catfish’ morales #the mandalorian #narcos

[beachbabey]

heyooo for the oscar/pedro thingy-

richie, taurus, sage green<3

I ship you with Frankie Morales!

#francisco morales #frankie ‘catfish’ morales #triple frontier #ask game

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Cramps

Summary: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.

Paring: Husband Frankie Morales x Wife f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K on the dot (idk how we got here)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) PERIOD SEX, unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also they want a baby so), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, again, you're on your period but our pussy eating king Fransisco Morales is an unstoppable force of nature), creampie, praise kink, big fat nasty breeding kink (it's who I am now, I won't apologize for it), Frankie's got a NASTY mouth, Frankie is the best husband, reader is on her period/has period symptoms, talks about family planning/not being on birth control, use of nicknames (hermosa, quierda, cariño), reader has no physical descriptions besides that she can wear Frankie's clothes

A/N: Well... This was gonna be a drabble... and then it was just gonna be fluff.... and then it was gonna be just some implied smut... and now, we're here??? Idk, don't ask me 🥴 self indulgent bc I just finished my period (and my periods have been whack since stopping bc) and what better way to heal myself than imagining what Frankie would be like taking care of you 🥺 also pls be nice to me this is my first time writing Frankie and I'm v nervous EEK I hope you enjoy!!! sorry Javi bby, I still love u

Bitchy. 

You wished you had a better word to describe your mood for today, but truth be told, bitchy was by far the most accurate. 

You and Frankie were hoping to start trying for your first baby soon, and had recently gone off your birth control after your doctor had told you it may take a few months for your body to regulate itself before you had a better chance at getting pregnant. Your doctor had also  warned you about many of the symptoms and side effects that stopping the pill could have, one of those being becoming more aware of your emotions and mood swings throughout your cycle. That, you were prepared for. 

What you were not prepared for, was to feel like an absolute psychopath in the days leading up to your period. 

 Your cycle had  been wonky the past few months as your body began to sort itself out- you had a feeling your period was probably about to start soon, but hadn’t thought much about it, considering your terrible and grouchy mood had overshadowed it. You had tried your best to pull yourself together the past few days, chalking up your grumpiness to long hours at work, or just being in a weird funk, but today, you woke up with a fire in your gut, ready to fight, and poor Frankie was about to be your punching bag. 

Sweet Frankie had been nothing short of a saint when it came to just about anything, but dealing with your newly heightened emotions right before your period really should have earned him some sort of Presidential Medal of Bravery, considering that your newly discovered highs and lows while PMS-ing were just as frightening as any time he had spent during his time in the military. 

Unfortunately for your husband, despite his best efforts, he had been on your nerves all morning. Not because he was really doing anything wrong, but because the little things that you were normally so good about letting go, or the patience you frequently had seemed to have flown out the window, and you were convinced that if Frankie even breathed the wrong way, you were going to absolutely lose it. 

So when unsuspecting Frankie decided to ask you a simple request about after work plans, there was very little he could have done to prepare for your response. 

“Morning, Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, emerging into the kitchen, his hand rustling through his untamed, sleepy brown curls as he let out a yawn and a stretch, the slight softness of his stomach peeking out between his t-shirt and pajama pants as he raised his arms above his head before settling behind you. He wrapped himself around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder as you finished putting the last of your lunch in your bag for work, trying to force yourself to focus on his sweet good morning, rather than the empty bowl of cereal in the sink that had greeted you first thing when you woke up, already starting you off on the wrong foot in your already irritable mood. 

“Morning, babe.” You grinned, forcing yourself to forgo the annoyance hidden behind your smile as you pecked a quick kiss on Frankie’s lips before gathering the rest of your things for the day scattered across the kitchen table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make you breakfast this morning because I was running late, but there’s extra scrambled eggs on the stove if you want them. I’m really sorry, Frankie, I gotta head out, have a good day, I’ll see you later okay?” You sighed, slinging your work bag over your shoulder, your hands full of your coffee mug, water bottle and keys, your cluttered grip and running behind schedule only adding to your frustration. 

“All good, Querida, no worries. Hey, actually baby, before you leave,” He paused, setting down the coffee mug he was just about ready to take a sip of, as if a little lightbulb had just gone off in his brain, “do you mind picking up stuff to make that really good buffalo chicken dip for Benny’s tonight? I told ‘em we’d bring like, an appetizer or something, if that’s okay.” 

For Frankie’s sake, you couldn’t have been more thankful that you had your back turned to him, because if looks could kill, Frankie Morales would have been a dead man. 

Every rational part of your brain knew that even though his request perhaps wasn’t the best timing, stopping by the store and making dip to bring to Benny’s for game night really wasn’t that much time or effort out of your day. But today, it seemed like every part of your brain but the rational one seemed to be functioning properly, and the raging, irrational part might as well have heard that Frankie wanted you to prepare and cook a Thanksgiving meal for 74 after you got home from work. 

You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the items in your hand, praying with every bone in your body that someway or another, you had misheard your husband. 

“Tonight? As in, like, today, after I get home from work?” You questioned, trying to do your best to keep your tone from sounding too condescending. 

“Yeah, we don’t have to be there until 7, I just don’t think I’m gonna have time to since I probably won’t be outta work until 6:30.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another swig of his coffee 

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.  

You let out a deep sigh, even more over dramatic than you had intended it to be, arms crossed over your chest and stark frown spread across your face as you turned towards Frankie. 

“Oh, perfect! That’s a great thing for me to find out about at 7:45 A.M. the day of, Frank!” Your voice oozed with ferocious sarcasm, now slamming your things back down onto the table to run your hands over your face. “No, that’s great, because there’s nothing I wanted to do more than to come home and make buffalo chicken dip instead of all the other shit I needed to do today before we left! Amazing! Thank you!” 

At this point, you were almost positive that if your eyes rolled any further, they’d be in the back of your skull, letting out another angry huff as you shook your head at Frankie, who was looking absolutely petrified as he leaned back against the counter, eyes darting to the floor to avoid yours, running his hand over the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. Frankie began to stammer, trying to defend himself from your wrath. 

“Hermosa, I’m- I’m sorry? I know it’s last minute, but you normally make it every time we go over there, I just- I figured it’d be easy for you to do? You can get something else, or I can try to stop by the store really quick on the way home, I just might-” 

“Nope, you want buffalo chicken dip, apparently I’m making buffalo chicken dip!” You groaned, collecting everything back into your hands, swearing under your breath as you tried to balance everything in your grip. “Jesus, okay, I need to go to work, just- I don’t even know. I gotta go, Frankie.” 

“Querida, I-” Frankie pleaded, beginning to trail behind you as you made your way to the front door. 

“Frankie, whatever, it’s fine! I’ll make the stupid dip! I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” You could feel the muscles in your jaw beginning to clench as you gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you to keep from exploding as you headed out of the house. Without even a kiss goodbye, you left Frankie in the doorway, watching you throw your things in the car and slam the door behind you as you drove down the driveway. 

But as soon as you were on the road and your house was out of view, you could instantly feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, slowly streaming down your cheeks as you began to sob, wondering why you had ruined the morning over as stupid as an appetizer, and even worse, that you had been a complete asshole to your husband about it. 

You couldn’t have been more thankful that work had been quiet today- no meetings on the schedule, and no one coming to bother you, leaving you plenty of peace and quiet to continue sulking and brooding in your unpleasant mood. 

Right around lunch time, you found yourself eating alone in your office, wishing your lunch was about ten times saltier and chocolatier than it was, crying to yourself as you watched a video of a dog meeting its new human sibling for the first time.

Just as you were beginning to pack up the rest of your lunch and start back up with your work, you felt a terrible twinge in your lower stomach that had you just about keeled over in pain, followed by that all too familiar feeling in your underwear. 

Frantically scrambling, you reached into your bag to pull out a tampon, hurriedly shuffling to the nearest bathroom, only to reveal the murder scene equivalent as you pulled down your pants. 

Your period had come.  

In that moment, as much as you were dreading the pain and misery that was the next few days to come, you couldn’t also help but feel a slight sense of relief, realizing that you were in fact, not actually a crazy person for the way you were feeling, you were just PMS-ing out of your mind. You couldn’t also help but feel absolutely awful for your unjustified freak out at your husband this morning, your heart sinking with guilt as you made your way back to your desk, immediately grabbing your phone to text Frankie. 

“Hey… I’m so sorry about this morning. What you were asking me to do wasn’t a big deal at all and I totally freaked out on you. My period just started, I think that’s why I’ve been such a bitch this morning. I’m sorry, Frankie, I love you.💕 ” 

It was almost instantly after you hit send that the reply bubble popped up in your message, your heart pounding anxiously waiting for your husband’s reply. 

“It’s okay, I kind of had a feeling 😉 babe, you weren’t being a bitch- I should have talked to you about it sooner. Shitty timing on my part. I’m sorry. I love you too, Querida.” 

Before you could even respond, another message popped up below his first. 

“Don’t worry about going to the store or making anything tonight. I already texted Benny and told him we couldn’t come. We can spend the night in, just the two of us. I can pick up takeout on the way home if you want and we can pick a movie to watch.” 

You could feel your frustrated facade beginning to melt away as your lips shifted from a pursed frown to a small smirk reading Frankie’s text, your thumbs quickly tapping across the screen of your phone to reply. 

“Thank you. You’re the best.” 

“Of course. Hopefully none of your co-workers ask you to make buffalo chicken dip before you leave 😘” 

“Oh shut up, meanie.” 

“Just kidding. Have a good rest of your day, love you. 💙

“Love you too. 🤍” 

Although the rest of your day was nowhere near enjoyable, given the fact you felt like you were getting punched repeatedly in the uterus and your personality resembled that of Oscar the Grouch, you knew that your night in with Frankie was your light at the end of the tunnel, and only needed to make it a few more hours before there was at least some sweet relief finally headed your way. 

Despite the constant stabbing pain in your lower stomach and back, your drive home from work had you in much better spirits than your drive there, now not only having an explanation as to why you had felt like such a mess, but also knowing the rest of your night was going to be dedicated to nothing but cuddling up in your comfiest clothes and snuggling up next to Frankie on the couch. 

As you pulled down your street, you were surprised to see Frankie’s truck already parked in the driveway, wondering what he was doing at home almost an hour earlier than he had mentioned he would be this morning. Gathering all of your things out of the back of your car, you quietly entered your home, confusion scrunching in your brow as you called out for your husband. 

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?” 

Before you could even kick off your shoes or hang up your coat, Frankie had already appeared at the front door to greet you, boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed your things out of your hand, carefully placing them on your entryway table before engulfing you in a bear hug, his broad arms wrapping around your body and pulling you closer into his chest. 

You could feel all the muscles in your body instantly relax as your face rested against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, soaking in the familiar woody and savory scent of him, letting yourself be consumed by every ounce of his embrace. 

“Hi Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, running his hands up and down your back as you looked up at his sweet brown eyes shining down at you. 

“What are you doing home so early? I mean, not that I’m mad about it at all, I just thought you said that you had to work until 6:30 and-” 

“Told my boss I had to head out early for a family emergency.” Frankie smirked, laughing at you playfully rolling your eyes from his so-called excuse. 

“Last time I checked, your wife being a grump because she’s bleeding out of her cooch doesn’t classify as a family emergency, Fransisco.” You teased, giving him a little shove, making the two of you giggle in tandem. 

“Eh, close enough. I’m really sorry about this morning, querida. I was a dick for not talking to you about plans beforehand and just assuming you could go do it. It wasn’t fair of me.” 

“It’s okay, Frankie. What you were asking for wasn’t a big deal and I made it one because I’ve been a psycho all day. I’m sorry, too.” 

“Well,” Frankie paused, pressing another kiss onto your cheek, the width of his palm gently cradling your jaw as you stared up at him and his sympathetic smile, “number one, you are not a psycho. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel right now, so even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Number two,” he paused again, shifting his kiss from your cheek to your lips, his thumb delicately swiping across your skin, “you’re my wife and I love you more than anything, and if I can take a little time off to help make you feel better, it’s the least I can do. So, why don’t you go change into something comfortable, and when you get back down here, I will have pizza and ice cream, whatever movie you wanna watch, and a back rub ready for you, okay?”   

“Okay. Thank you, Frankie. God, you’re the best.” You grinned, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your mouth meet Frankie’s, the plush pout of his bottom lip swiping across yours, lingering just long enough to let the butterflies in your stomach begin to swirl, heat creeping through your cheeks in the tenderness of the moment.

“Of course, cariño. Te amo. Now go get changed.” With one last peck on his lips, you wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp to make your way up the stairs, grinning to see that your husband had already set out your favorite of his oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, neatly folded on the bed for you to grab, quickly shuffling out of your uncomfortable work attire and exchanging it for Frankie’s clothes, your smile growing even wider at the feeling of perpetually being wrapped up in the essence of him. 

As you made your way back downstairs to meet Frankie, you found your heart skipping a beat again to see that the better part of the living room had been turned into a cozy sanctuary- lights dim and candles lit, both parts of your couch squished together, filled with every pillow and blanket you owned, and Frankie sitting in the middle, giant box of pizza, tub of ice cream and your handsome husband waiting for you. 

As if your emotions hadn’t already taken you on a wild roller coaster of a ride today, the adorable sight in front of you had you on the verge of tears again, wiping the wetness pooling in your eyes with the back of Frankie’s sweatshirt sleeve drooping off your arm before crawling into the blanket fort he had constructed for the two of you. 

“Frankie… You didn’t have to do this.” You sniffled, curling up next to Frankie as he draped a blanket over your lap and his arm over your shoulder, passing you a plate with 2 large pieces of pizza. 

“It’s the least I could do. I put on Hercules for us to watch, but if you wanna-” 

Before you could let him finish the rest of his sentence, you were running your hand across the scratchy stubble of his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you planted a kiss on his lips, feeling your smiles melt into one another's as your mouths met. “That sounds perfect. God, how’d I get so lucky?” 

“I could say the same thing, mi amor. You ready to start the movie?” 

“Only if you also pass me that tub of Ben and Jerry’s to go with my pizza.” 

“I think I can make that happen.” 

About half way through the movie, pizza and tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, your and Frankie’s bodies were tangled together in a sea of limbs and blankets, contently snuggled up with one another as Frankie’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back and shoulder as you laid against his chest. 

“You doin’ okay, querida? Need anything?” He cooed, his soft voice dancing in your ear. As if it weren’t enough that you had already been through the extreme highs and lows of almost every feeling under the sun today, the one you hadn’t been until this very moment was insatiably horny. While the mood swings you had mentally prepared yourself for with your new period symptoms, the constant other kind of ache between your legs you had not, and feeling the low rasp of Frankie’s words tickling your neck had been just enough to flip the switch to make you desperately needy. 

Letting your leg slide over Frankie’s lap, you pushed yourself up to straddle his hips, running your hands through the dark curls of his thick, brown hair, and down his broad chest, your fists bunching the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands as your mouths became a mess of tangled tongues and teeth. 

“I need- fuck- I need you, Frankie, please.” You pleaded between muffled moans, his tongue swiping in the parted space where your lips melted together as one, instinctively beginning to grind your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants starting to grow beneath you. 

“Fuck- You sure, baby?” Frankie rasped, reactively bucking up into you, making you whine as his hands dug into your hips, guiding you as you swirled over the tented fabric of his bottom half rubbing against your covered core. 

“Please. Please, Frankie.” You were all but whimpering at this point, nodding frantically in approval as Frankie used the grasp on your hips to guide you onto your back, making you cock your head in confusion as Frankie scampered to the other side of the couch, back turned to you as he reached over the ledge, pulling out a thick, black towel with a smug grin on his face. “Did you seriously have a towel ready incase I wanted to have sex?” You snorted, shaking your head at Frankie, now crawling back to you, caging your body under his with an electric kiss as he shimmied the towel underneath you. 

“Maybe.” Frankie smirked, breaking from your kiss to let his lips trail down your body, his hands toying with the edge of his sweatshirt covering your body as he pushed it up your stomach and chest, helping you to shimmy it over your head, leaving your top half exposed. He gently palmed at your breasts, taking each pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the buds with his tongue before letting his kisses travel down the soft skin of your stomach and waistband of your sweatpants. The clothes on your bottom half soon joined your sweatshirt in a crumpled pile as Frankie nestled himself between your legs, gently nudging your hips to let your thighs part, revealing your pussy, slick and shiny for him with your juices. 

Even though Frankie would eat you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still found himself between your legs during your time of the month, considering any other man probably would have scoffed at just the thought of going down on you on your period. 

But, then again, Frankie Morales wasn’t just any other man. 

“Frankie, baby, you know you don’t- Oh fuck!” You gasped, cut off in surprise as Frankie’s tongue licked a long, broad strip across your cunt, making you shudder in pleasure as his head perked up, revealing the devilish grin spread between his cheeks watching your chest already heave in heavy, shaky breaths. 

“Oh I know I don’t have to, sweet girl. But I want to. Relax, baby, lemme take care of you.” 

Before you could agree, protest, or anything in between, Frankie was back between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as they draped over his broad shoulders, digging his fingertips into the plush softness of your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds with the exact grace and precision that he knew made you fall apart in seconds. 

With flat, firm presses of his mouth latched against your clit, you could already feel your bottom half writhing under him, the perfect pressure of his tongue dancing around your sensitive bundle of nerves making you moan in pleasure. As your head dipped back, falling into the couch pillow behind you, your hand shot down, fingers burying themselves in the wild curls of Frankie’s hair, tugging at the thick ends for any sort of release as he worked relentlessly at your aching cunt. 

“Fuck, Frankie, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your praise only intensifying the way your husband drank every ounce of you up, two thick fingers now gently pressing inside your heat, curled deliciously as they rocked in and out of your entrance, nudging against your g-spot. 

Frankie had spent enough time worshiping the altar that was your pussy to know exactly how to make you crumble beneath him, leaving you chanting his name like a prayer as his lips latched around your clit, ferociously sucking as his fingers prodded at the soft, spongy spot that made your cunt begin to clench and heat in your belly pool. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. I’ve got you.” Frankie groaned, his words humming deep in his chest, placing chaste kisses on the inside of your thighs before drinking you up like a man starved, adding a third finger into your heat, the added fullness and stretch, combined with Frankie’s relentless pace, enough to have the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine now washing through every inch of your body. Your orgasm began to crash through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins, making you cry out Frankie’s name over and over. 

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum again, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become, your pussy slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the Frankie and fucked you senseless with just his tongue. 

Wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand, Frankie tugged the sweatshirt covering his own body over his head, followed by his pants and boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock as it slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking with precum as his broad body loomed over yours, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as you whimpered his name. 

“Frankie, holy fuck.” 

“Such a good girl for me, querida. You still want me to fuck you, baby?” He mewled, the metallic and tangy taste of you still lingering on his tongue as he kissed you, laughing to himself at the way you found yourself frantically nodding your head to tell him yes before your words could. 

“Jesus Christ, yes. Fuck, please Frankie, I need to feel you.” 

Reaching down to stroke himself, he lined his cock up with your entrance, easily sliding into your heat and brushing his tip against your cervix, taking a moment to let you adjust to his fullness. The whine you let out as Frankie filled every inch of you was nothing short of ragged, digging your nails into the skin of his broad back as he ever so slowly began to thrust in and out of you, dragging his length against the slick of your cunt. 

“Oh fuck me- Fuck, you hear how wet you are for me, sweet girl? This what you needed, baby? To fill up that pretty little pussy of yours?” Frankie groaned, letting his forehead rest against yours, his sweaty curls now starting to stick to his skin as he pounded into you, rutting his hips at a faster and faster pace. 

“It’s all for you, Frankie- Oh shit- only for you.” You moaned, your fingers wrapping around the width of his biceps, flexing deliciously as he hovered over you, sucking you in to a long, deep kiss, fucking into you over and over. 

Even with the years between you and the ring on your finger, the possessive part of Frankie’s brain would never get over how the primal and all consuming feeling of knowing you were his, forever, your words shooting straight to his dick as a low groan rumbled in his chest, silently cursing to himself through gritted teeth, watching you fall apart below him. 

Readjusting himself, Frankie sat back on his heels, hooking his arm under one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, the new angle stretching you out in a way that had you seeing stars as Frankie rammed into your g-spot and began thumbing at your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your first orgasm. You could already feel the heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, your leg beginning to tremble hoisted over Frankie’s shoulder as he dug into the meat of your thigh with a bruising intensity. 

Just like he would never get over the fact of knowing you were his, Frankie would never get over watching you begin to crumble under his touch, taking the time to memorize every twitch and twinge your body made as you came closer and closer to your end, always savoring in the moaning mess you’d become as you fell apart around him. 

“Fuck, Frankie, Fuck, oh my god- I’m close, baby.” You were all but rambling at this point, your brain barley stringing together coherent sentences as you felt your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, the lewd noises of your moans, wetness and skin slapping together as your hips met filling the room at a borderline pornagraphic rate. 

“Meirda, I’m not gonna last much longer, hermosa. Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Frankie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes locking on yours and telling him everything he needed to know without you saying a word. 

“Inside. Fuck, please Frankie, I want you to cum inside me.” 

Your confirmation was all it took to flip the switch in Frankie that sent him absolutely feral, the thought of being able to actually knock you up now that you weren’t on birth control anymore, giving you a baby, proving another way to the world to mark you as his? The thought alone was enough to have him bracing every bone in his body to keep him from cuming right then and there. 

“Fuck me. You want me to fill you up, querida? Fuck me full of you? Fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, huh?” Frankie moaned, grunting with each thrust of his hips, his rhythm becoming more frantic and shaky as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit, swirling them in frantic circles to make sure you came before he did. 

“Fuck, yes. I need you too, holy fuck- wanna make you a daddy, Fransisco.” 

You could feel the tightly wound knot in your core starting to snap, your legs trembling and breath shaking as Frankie fucked into you, finding yourself on the verge of collapse- but not before Frankie’s filthy mouth got the last word in. 

“Jesus, fuck- Fuck, hermosa. That’s what you want, pretty girl? I swear, I’m gonna fuck myself so deep into you it’ll fucking take. Get you fucking pregnant tonight.” 

That was all it took to have you orgasm come crashing through you, every inch of your body radiating with pleasure as you came, crying out Frankie’s name as you gushed around him, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head, your mind going blank and numb, the only thing grounding you were the incoherent ramblings of your husband as he followed suit behind you. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, fuck, fuck-ahhhhhh.” With one final thrust, Frankie could feel himself spilling against your walls, coating you with his spend as his cock pulsed, making sure he milked himself of every last drop deep inside your cunt before even thinking about pulling out. Moving your leg, Frankie slumped into you, splaying himself across your body as your chests rose and fell in sync, laying in silence as you let your breathing steady, coming back down to Earth from your high. 

With a shallow grunt, Frankie carefully pulled his softening cock out of your heat, leaning back to admire the mess he had made between your legs, his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs and pussy glistening with the mixture of your arousal. You let out a soft hiss at the loss of Frankie’s fullness inside you, only to quickly be replaced by a gasp as he buried his two fingers back into your cunt.  

“Gotta make sure every last drop stays in there, hermosa. Gonna keep you full of me all night, baby.” He mewled, carefully gathering his spend and pushing it deep inside you, making you whimper as he slowly pulsed his fingers back and forth, pulling away his hand to lean back into your body, engulfing you with an electric kiss. 

“Holy fuck, fuck me. Jesus, Frankie.” You laughed to yourself, your head dipping back on the pillow as you buried your face in your hands, at a loss for words at how euphoric you now felt in your post colital bliss. 

“Wow, again, already? Gotta give me a few after that querida.” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at his joke as you playfully swatted at him, making him lean in to pepper your body with kisses, leaving you squealing and squirming in delight. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Fransisco Morales. If you keep fucking me like that, then yeah, absolutley.” 

“If I keep fucking you like this, I have a very hopeful feeling that next month, we’ll have something else to care about besides period cramps.”

“I swear to god, if one of my cravings ends up being buffalo chicken dip once I’m pregnant, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Taglist:

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @jaciejay13 @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @lola8888673 @persephone-girl @copperhalfcent @innerpersonunknown @messinadresss @devineconjuring @endlessthxxghts @cool-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @messinadress @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @ilovepedro @pascalscoffin @missladym1981 @munson-hargrove-barnes86 @angel98624 @anoverwhelmingdin @pimosworld @nandan11 @iloveenya @survivingandenduring

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales imagine #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction

[pedge-page]

Cravings

Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!reader

Summary: Pussy eating king frankie, who gets his aforementioned nickname when you tried to come up with ways to prevent him from relapsing back to coke.

Warnings: soooo much oral —pussy eating, cum eating, grinding, dry humping, cumming in pants, kissing, Frankie's mouth is everywhere, alcohol, drunk sex, unprotected sex, little dub con since Frankie doesn't ask if he can cum inside, overstimulation, free use esc situations

Notes: This is NOT the Frankie free-use series I mentioned before; I'm a bit delayed with writing it, so here's something else i had started as a drabble but then... did not stay a drabble. Please like and reblog if you enjoy this fic!

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Rather than drowning himself in coke, Santi slyly suggest he drowns himself in pussy instead. The guys around the table laughed, but you kind of agreed and told him you'd help set him up on hookups. Frankie didn't want to go through the trouble of having to find a potentially different girl each night. Plus, his cravings were sporadic. He would need his fix in that moment whenever it came.

He remembered back when you had drunkenly admitted guys could hardly satisfy you because you had a high drive, usually cumming on your fingers at least 6 times a day before bed, often times more on lonely weekends. He was left speechless at the time, but now he couldn't get Santi's proposition mixed with that knowledge of you out of his head.

You tried to cook him meals instead or buy him hoards of candy, but the idea was stuck in his mind. You knew you'd be a convenient alternative, given you only lived less than 10 minutes away and was always around when he needed help. But you were afraid of crossing that line with one of your all time best friends.

Eventually, being around him so much—"on call" as the boys put it—left you susceptible to his sweet touches, ghosting lips against your ears, sporadic twitches and jittery hands, antsy fingers dancing along your hips. You considered the option heavily before finally caving: you were doing this to HELP him, as his friend. Just a little relief every so often when he absolutely needed it.

You came 9 times on his tongue the first time. It wasn't even that he was trying to make you cum, but the eagerness in the way he moved so fast, growling and moaning at the taste, his lips attached and never left your heat. His big nose just perfectly bumping your clit each time he pointed his tongue dove deep into your craving hole, curling up and hitting that soft spot inside you left you shaking and crying out his name, back arched and fingers clawing at his shoulders.

He was sated for almost 6 days (and you needed the ample recovery time because not even your fingers could make you cum so hard) before the craving hit again. Incessant knuckles pounded your doorstep. You had barely unlocked the door before he was shoving himself in and devouring your mouth with his. "I need another hit, carniño."

He didn't wait for a response, knocking you on your ass on the sofa and stripping your sweats and panties off before throwing one leg over his shoulder. Flattening his tongue, he licks a long strip along from your hole to your clit, obscenely guttural moans from the back of his throat filled your ears. He looked wild-eyed and crazy, as if starved for weeks and was finally given the sugar rush of the century.

You inevitably move in with him, claiming his spare bedroom, worried about how bad he gets when he goes anything longer than a few hours without you.

He makes you ride his face until you're suffocating him, and he still can't get enough. Your juices flood his mouth and nose and his eyes roll back as he loses air. You try to get off and apologies, but he's caged your thighs with his muscular arms, holding your pussy flat against his face as he devoured you more, ignoring your squirming pleas. He hums against your nub, the vibrations sending you into your own addictive high. You cum again, and again, and again, and soon you're tugging his hair, crying his name with fat tears down your cheek, leaning back and scratching at his chest to let off, but its useless. He's so lost in your cunt that you become light headed, barely holding on to the headboard as your lower body continues to spasm.

He only pulls off for a minute, squeezing his nostrils to force out your juices. He's so dazed, pupils blown wide, beard and mustache drenched in your slick, so pussy-drunk and in love that he wants to do it again. "Sweetest fucking cunt, I swear. Just wanna curl up and live inside here, querida."

You offer to suck him off but he gestures embarrassingly down, where you turn to see a dark splotch on the belt-line of his pants where the tip of his spent cock peaks out, dribbling little white drops onto his lower belly, having cum untouched just from eating you out.

It gets to the point where you lock yourself in the bathroom when you take a shower just to have 10 minutes of peace. Your pussy is so puffy, clit so swollen from his constant assault day and night that you have to calm down and remind yourself what good its doing for him. He hasn't touched the white powder in weeks.

He's wondered where you've gone when he sees the bathroom light illuminate under the door. He knocks a few times, then raps harsher with his fists, calling out your name. You tell him you just need a minute. The makeshift locks on the bathroom door of Frankie's apartment isn't designed to keep an ex militant out, and he just pushes it forward with enough force that it gives way and he let's himself in. You go to cover yourself when he pulls the shower curtains away, but the same needy expression on his face as he narrows in to the slit between your legs has you aching once again. It's Pavlovian, the way he stares, practically drooling, hands twitching by his side, sending signals to your cunt to start dripping for his appetite. He spins you around so your cheek is smothered against tile, ass out towards him, not caring about the water drenching his baseball cap, grey shirt and pants as he kneels on the shower floor and puts his face between your legs. He moans when his lips start sucking on your nub, tongue thrusting in and out of your hole. He keeps you in your spread position with his arms holding your waist, making their way to spread your ass for him to dive further in, knees between your heels. You reach one arm back, knocking his cap off as you card your fingers through his damp hair, gripping it when you cum and grind yourself back on his scruffy face.

He's otherwise so gentle, so soft spoken, but when he gets between your legs, something primal takes over and you can hardly recognize him.

Sometime in the evening while you were watching a movie, you see his knee bouncing next to you. You has snapped at him earlier and refused his hunger when he peppered kisses all over your neck, down your back, then tried to yank your pants down while you were cooking dinner for the two of you, nearly burning your arm on the stove from such force.

You hated that you had outright refused him for the first time, but the truthfully the swollenness between your legs needed rest before he wrecked you again. He's biting his lip so hard, stealing glances at you before rubbing his hair and shifting his cap back on.

You instead take your top off, having gotten comfortable enough to go without a bra when it was just the two of you. Frankie is a bit shocked, only used to seeing you strip your pants first before anything else.

You crawl over to him before sitting in his lap, thighs spread over his. He swallows the lump in his throat, unable to take his eyes off of your tits right in front of him. His legs are still bouncing in agitation, the movement making your breasts jiggle right in front of him. He groans, licking his lips, breathing heavily.

"She needs a break, Fish," you said quietly, your soft and small hands seeking his big and callous ones, pulling them up over your waist before letting them settle on your cups.

He doesn't hesitate or ask further, head leaning forward and lips immediately latching on to your nipple. He moans, eyes closed as he sucks around the areola, tongue swirling your pebble as he kneads them in his hands.

You're trying so hard not to grind down on his cock, instead sitting upright on your knees so you're not fully resting your damp panty-covered crotch against the tent in his pants. The position is more head level with your tits, but he doesn't like that. He grips your hips to bring you flush against him, gasping out when you instinctually start rocking your hips steadily against his clothed length.

He noticed how heavily your chest is flexing, glaring up at you to see your brows furrowed, face tilted towards the ceiling trying not to cum on him. He cups his hands against your cheeks and brings you in for a sweet kiss, his lips slotting perfectly against yours as his hands return to palming your breasts. He presses his forehead against yours so your eyes meet, goosebumps wracking your whole body at the lust behind his eyes, and something more you couldn't place. "So good to me, querida. Perfect lips"—he gently pecks your lips—"perfect tits"—then a generous kiss to each of your breasts—"my perfect girl." You could smell the scent of your pussy on his lips, as if they'd be stained there now. Kissing your lips, your throat, collarbone, down the valley of your breasts, and erect nipples, and all the way back up again, was enough to keep his mouth busy and his craving subsided. And it worked almost as well, the two of you cumming sticky and wet against one another in your underwear with heavy sighs and sated eyes; you had calmed him down enough to get him to remove his clothes and put on a fresh pair of boxers before tucking him to his own bed with your favorite blanket.

As you tip toed into the bathroom to prep for a bath, you stared at your naked reflection: how swollen, and red your breasts were, covered in raised bite marks the shape of Frankie's jaws. Among your new scars are the faded scratches and bruises of Frankie's fingertips on your waist, stomach and lower back from how incessantly he devours you while his face is buried in your sopping pussy, like he had to sink his claws into you so you wouldn't slip away as he feasted. You look like you were attacked by a passionate lion.

His sweet nothings every time he stared into your eyes was what really turned you on. You tell yourself that it was just the withdrawal symptoms talking. That he was basically just high on a new drug.

-

To you, it must have looked like Frankie's craving were only getting worse with how increasingly frequent his lips found themselves attached to your body. In truth, his desire for coke steadily grew less, and it wasn't the replacement of the powder that he was seeking from you but rather the insaitability of finally having you that grew stronger.

The rest of boys noticed the effects you're having on Frankie too. They see it when he meets them for a drink every other Saturday, the way he anxiously taps his foot under the table, glancing around like he's unsure what to do, where to go, because he can't sit still. It's the signs of his cravings kicking back in, and they're all worried at first. But it's not until you up show later and slide into the booth next to him that they notice: Frankie casually drapes his arm around your shoulders like he always did—that part was normal. But what was new is how they could visibly see Frankie's heart rate slow, the way he slumped against the bench and completely calmed down from just your presence.

They also couldn't help but notice the way his eyes raked you with a mix of lust, love, and obsession, his dark gaze never once leaving the sight of you the entire night. All the while you laughed and chatted with them about your week, oblivious to the change in demeanor of your friend from just a few months ago.

You assured the boys that you two weren't fucking—and it was true, you hadn't slept with him once. albeit a few blow jobs, it was exclusively just Frankie eating you out or kissing. You were very hopeful that his cravings were going to go away soon since its the longest he's been off coke. You were even talking to your old landlord to see if your old apartment a few blocks away still had openings since you'd be moving out of Frankie's place soon. Santi couldn't help but see Frankie's dejection, his arm sliding away from you as he excused himself to get more beer.

By the end of the night, Frankie was drunk out of his mind. Will suggested he slow down so he wouldn't pass out before he could walk home. It sounded like a good plan, until Francisco glanced over to the bar and saw you sitting there and smiling at a guy who was flirting with you. Fish took a giant gulp of his beer, downing the entire jug before slamming it on the table and striding out of the booth towards you. He overheard the guy asking if you had a ride home tonight.

"She comes home with me. Every. Night," he slurred, his sweaty palm skimming possessively over your jean-clad thigh and snaking between your legs, face coming so close to you that your noses slide against each other. Frankie's eyes bore into yours with so much desire, it bordered on range. You knew those were his craving eyes. The pungent smell of alcohol on his breath made you flinch as he tried to pull you in for a kiss. You quickly tell the confused guy that he's your roommate and you need to get him home immediately. You could barely finish excusing yourself from the stranger before Frankie was dragging you out of the bar. You managed to wave to the others, making a drinking gesture and pointing to Frankie before being yanked into the street.

He was stumbling all over the place, breath uneven as you hoisted him up to lean against you, eventually making it through his apartment entrance and turning the key to unlock his unit.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Frankie slammed the door close behind him and pinned you up against it, his hands roaming your body as his mouth desperately sought yours. "Craving," he mumbled against your open lips. "Need"—tongue forcing its way into your mouth, he nipped at your lower lip, sucking on it before releasing with a pop— "need you," he panted.

"I know, I know—Jesus Fish. I'm—gonna help—gonna take care of you—" you breathed, ashamed of how quickly you could feel your panties dampen. It never bothered him though, and only encouraged his sweet tooth more. You weren't nearly as drunk as him, but your few margaritas made you extremely susceptible, even welcoming, to his touch.

You hummed into his shoulder when his hard bulge rubbed purposefully against your covered core. He bit your earlobe as he fisted your low-neck shirt before pulling it down roughly, the fabric tearing away. You gasped, ready to scold him but he pressed his mouth on you again, teeth clashing, his hands slotting down your body to pinch, grope, scratch at any bit of skin he could get.

"So—so good t'me. Always taking—such good care of me, cariño."

His fingers dip into your ass and hoist you up so he's carrying you, your arms and legs wrapped securely around him as he boldered through his apartment, kicking his door open before tossing you on the bed, watching you bounce. You never break eye contact as you unbutton your jeans at the same time Frankie pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside to unfasten his belt and zipper.

Clambering over you to reseal your lips, you breath in his scent, hands exploring his tone arms, down his chest and muscle middle all the way to the little pooch of tummy hanging. His hands gripped your jeans and pulled them along with you down the length of the bed, bringing you to the edge, his grip pushing up on the back of your thighs so your knees are digging against your rib cage, pulsing pussy exposed at his mercy. "I fuckin' love this pussy, querida," he growled before burying his face between you folds for the thounsandth time. "So fuckin' wet for me," he mumbled against your thigh, nipping at the skin.

He ate you out with precision, eyes hungry watching you, determined to make you fall apart quickly. He wasn't doing it for his own taste, but the sheer satisfaction of watching you writhe for him, knowing your body inside out as the only one who could get you like this. He's languidly thrusting two fingers in and out. You didn't even need to be stretched: he'd practically been prepping you for months now. You're crying out into the air as you cum, hips bucking against his nose with your heels digging into his shoulder blades. Frankie pulls away, kissing your stomach and up your tits before making you taste yourself on his lips.

The feeling of his cock nudging your entrance make your once dazed eyes go wide and alert. He pauses, suddenly worried. He can't read your expression, time dragging out too long and it scares the fuck out of him that he's taking it too far, that you didn't agree to this.

He had wanted to tell you everything right then: how he dreams of you riding him, or when he fists his cock in the shower when you're at work to the thought of what your tight walls would feel like wrapped around him when first violates you, how he automatically gets aroused now when he just sees you or smells your laundry, or admitting how many times he's actually cum in his pants without you noticing when he is buried between your legs, dying to have you cum around his cock instead of his tongue.

It's not until you sense his hesitation that you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close, sharing the same breath of air, nodding as your calves hook over his ass and squeeze his hips, the tip of his flush cock slipping in to your wet heat.

You both sigh heavily into each other's mouth when he takes charge again and thrusts fully inside you. He scrunches his eyes closed, forehead dipping down to your breast bone to revel in the overwhelming feeling of the tight space inside you.

You warmly caress his hair to bring him back up to you, kissing him and whispering, lips trembling, "Don't—don't think about it. Just... just use me."

His heart sank: You probably just thought this was another hit for him.

He didn't want to think about the fact that you were everything he'd needed in that moment, the image of perfection beneath him beautifully laid out for his eyes, his touch, but not for his soul. He gritted his teeth, pulling out then slamming back in, jolting your whole body up the mattress. It was fast, rough, and not at all how he wanted your first time to be with him, but he couldn't control his urges. He was gasping loudly as he fucked you, your cunt gushing around his member, the obscene sound of slick and skin slapping skin echoing in his otherwise empty apartment.

He brought his thumb to rub messy circles on your clit, sending you into a spasm of praises and expletives, but the most satisfying sound was his name repeated over and over again.

He barely manages to pull out before jerking his cock only twice and creaming all over your folds and clit. Groaning in post orgasmic bliss, he watches you heaving and shaking, filthy pussy covered in his seed. Half of his mind is only working now as he slides back down to lap you clean with his mouth, his own saltiness filling his throat, fingers scissoring inside to get your juices flowing, obsessed with the sight in front of him: your back arched off the bed, heels digging into his lower back as his hands pinning your hips down flat so he can work his mouth over you. And then you're cumming again, so angelic on his tongue, your sweet moans going right to his dick, hardening once again as he ruts into the mattress. He nips your clit and sucks, reluctant to pull away as he lines up and splits you open. You scream out, and if it weren't for the way your barely-recovered battered walls kept sucking him back in, he'd be worried you're in pain. His hands hook under your lower back, lifting you off the bed as he plows into your squelching cunt over and over again.

Youre both covered in a thin layer of sweat, the pillows and comforter of his bed strewn haphazardly around the floor as he dominates you. The headboard slammed recklessly agains the wall, and neither of you cared about your neighbors trying to sleep at 1 in the morning. He ignores the oversensitivity of his cock and your clit, forcing you both into an unexpected climb of another orgasm like it was a primal need.

It was happening without warning; he should be asking for permission, but he knew you took the pill, and he's been dying to release inside you from the moment you first let him put his lips on you. You're cumming on his cock again, hips bucking and grinding against him without your clit being touched, and he was done for.

With a harsh cry, he climaxes again, his length flooding your womb with ribbons of white. His arm shoots in front of him, flat on the bed next to your ear to hold himself up so he didn't crash down on you as his hips jerked, pushing his seed deeper in to you.

He rested most of his weight on top of you, labored breaths combined into one. He kisses the top of your nose, whispering "thank you," unsticking your sweaty bodies as he rolls you two over to have you lying on top, your head next to his. He pats your hair over your ear, pebbling your forehead and eyelids in kisses. His cock twitched in your spent heat, cum leaking out and dripping down to his balls and on the bed.

"Glad I—could...help..." you mumbled, eyes already closed as you drifted into sleep.

His softening dick slipped from your pussy, warm hands wiping you with his shirt before settling you gently on a pillow. He watched the gentle rise and fall of your breaths, naked and fast alseep on his bed. He pulled his sheets higher to your shoulder, his heart beating faster at the way you snuggled further into his pillow.

Frankie stared at the ceiling for hours, hand on his forehead in anguish, wondering how the fuck he was supposed to tell you it wasn't cocaine he was craving last night.

- - - -

Part 2: Crash

Series masterlist

#pedro pascal smut #francisco morales #frankie morales smut #triple frontier smut #triple frontier #frankie morales #catfish morales #catfish morales smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish morlaes smut #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #catfish morales x reader

[bullet-prooflove]

Valentine's Day Bingo Card - Now Completed!

Hi guys,

The bingo card is now completed! The event will run from the 1st Feb - 25th with one fic released daily.

When they are all booked in I will publish the list for you.

If you aren't for the tag list for your char of choice add yourself here:

Character Tag List

What do the hearts mean?

A full pink heart means the fic is written and booked in.

A faint pink heart means a rough draft has been completed.

#remy scott #Kevin Jimenez #Marcus Alvarez #Bottles #Manny #Downer #chibs telford #Nero Padilla #Rodrigo Sanchez #Donovan Rocker #James Lanik #Crockett Marcel #Sam Abrams #Joe Velasco #Mike Duarte #Bobby Reyes #Frank Castle #Benny Miller #Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales #Nick Torres #Charlie 1 #merlin kingsman #Tim Bradford #Matthew Garza #Greg Lestrade #Ian Egerton #manny montana

[albertasunrise]

Please do more hurt frankie fics like should of listened.

So much potential with the crash and/or the drugs but no one writes any without OCs or readers

Healing Hands - Oneshot

Masterlist

Summary: Andy Simmons was in love with Francisco Morales but he didn’t even know she existed. Yet one night changes everything.

Relationships: Frankie Morales x (OFC) Original Female Character

Notes: Takes place a few years before the movie. For purpose of the story. Will, Frankie and Santi are the same age. (I half assed proofreading this so soz in advance)

Andy had loved Frankie from afar for as long as she’d known what love was. He was kind, funny, smart and popular. He was her dream guy but he didn’t know she even existed. 

He was a year above her so there wasn’t any reason for their paths to cross but then shekd befriended Benny Miller and suddenly she was thrust into their world.

“Fella’s, I’d like you to meet Andy Simmons. Andy, this is my brother Will and his buddies Frankie and Santi.” He said as he presented her to them like some prized puppy “Andy here is gonna be tutoring me so I can pass science this year.” 

“Andy huh?” Santi probed and she gave him a shy shrug. 

“Short for Andressa.” 

This brought a small smile to Frankie’s face and Andy swore her ears erupted into flames. Benny couldn’t help but notice how shy she was around Frank and he smirked. Her secret was out. 

“I appreciate you helping this knucklehead.” Will pipped up, pulling And’s attention away from her crush and to him “We’re having a party this Friday… you should come!” 

“Graduation party?” She enquired and he shook his head. 

“Farewell party.” He stated and her brows drew together in confusion. 

“Farewell?” 

“These three enlisted!” Ben stated and her stomach dropped “They're leaving next week for training and our dad’s out of town so we thought one last bash before they sign their death warrants.”

“Don’t say shit like that.” Frankie scorned and Ben shrugged. 

“You’ll be joining next year and you know it.” Santi teased and Andy gave Ben a wide-eyed look “He follows his brother everywhere.” 

“Do not!” Ben argued and Will snorted “What? I don’t!”

“Yet you hang with us every lunch.” Will pointed out and Ben groaned. 

“You guys suck.” The younger Miller grumbled and Andy chuckled. 

The bell ringing had them all walking to class. Andy waved the guys off before slipping into class behind Ben. Sitting through class, she found herself distracted by the fact she was going to a party. That she was going to be spending a night with the guy she was pretty sure she was in love with. 

To say she was excited was an understatement.  

~

She’d picked out the nicest outfit she owned for the Miller’s party. Andy had promised her mum that she wouldn't get into trouble and when Ben had kindly offered for her to stay, telling her a little white lie about his uncle chaperoning, her mum had allowed it. Andy was pretty sure her mum was more excited at the idea of her being invited to a party. Andy wasn't lacking in the friend department. She wasn't ‘popular’ but she wasn't unpopular either. She’d just never really been one for going to parties. So when Ben had dropped Andy off and pleaded with her mum to let Andy come, he'd been a little surprised at how quickly she said yes. 

Andy quickly changed into her chosen outfit, a cute little black dress and her favourite combat boots. She put on a little make-up, checked out her look in the mirror and when she was happy, gave herself a small nod and went downstairs. Her mum was standing in the kitchen sipping at her coffee as she flitted through a magazine but she looked up when she heard Andressa enter. 

"You look pretty." She gushed as she took in her daughter's outfit "Could have picked some nicer shoes." 

"I like these shoes." Andy defended and her mum put her free hand up in mock surrender before taking another sip of her beverage "So is Benny your boyfriend?" 

Andy snorted at that before shaking her head. 

"Nah, he's just a friend. I'm tutoring him in Science but turns out we have a lot in common and kinda hit it off." 

"Sounds like a boyfriend." 

"He already has a girlfriend who's much prettier and a lot more popular than me." She chuckled before grabbing her coat and slinging it over her shoulder.

"Not all guys seek popularity." 

"They always seek looks." Andy scoffed and her mother's brows drew together.

"Andressa, eres Hermosa." (Andressa, you are beautiful) 

"Tienes que decir eso.) (You have to say that.) Andy scoffed "Eres mi Madre." (You're my mother.) 

Benny tooting his horn outside was the cue Andy needed to head out. Giving her mum a hug and a kiss, she sprinted to the door. 

"Stay out of trouble." She called out and Andy waved her off with a 'Yeah mum' before disappearing. 

Ben waved as Andy sprinted to his car, blushing when he whistled at her. 

"Damn Andy, you scrub up good." 

"Shut up and drive Miller." 

"Yes ma'am." 

Fifteen minutes later, Ben had parked up outside his house and they were weaving their way through pockets of people Andy had seen but never spoken to before. 

"Drink?" Ben asked as he motioned at the keg sat in his kitchen. 

"Please." Replied Andy, giving Ben a nod in thanks when he handed her the red cup he'd generously filled with beer. 

"You made it." Called out a familiar voice and she turned to see Will and Frankie making their way over "Glad you came." Said the older Miller as he pulled her into a friendly hug. 

"Thanks for inviting me." 

"You crashing?" Will asked and Ben nodded with her "Cool, so are Frank and Santi." Will stated and Andy felt her pulse quicken. 

"Santi's determined to kick everyone out by 1." Frankie piped up "Can't afford the cops coming over and kicking out asses just before we head off." 

"Definitely not." Will agreed before turning back to Andy "Enjoy the party." 

It wasn't a mad one like Andy had expected. It seemed that the Millers had invited a choice set of people for that very reason and Andy was glad of that. She found herself sitting by the pool later that evening, watching as Ben and Will played ball with some friends in the pool. 

"Didn't fancy playing?" Andy looked up to see Frankie coming over with a soda and a smile. 

"Not really." She replied as she thanked him for the drink and moved up so he could sit beside her. 

"Having a good time?" He asked and she turned her head to look at him, smiling sweetly as she nodded. 

"Yeah, I am." 

Frankie gave her a smile in return and it instantly went to her core. They gazed at each other for a while, static crackling between the two of them before Frank's hand cupped her cheek and he pulled her into the most incredible kiss she'd ever experienced. 

The boy's wolf-whistling stopped that kiss in its tracks and Frankie chuckled as he gave them the finger before pulling back to look at Andy. She was sure she was grinning like a lunatic but at that moment she didn't care. All she cared about was the fact that she'd just kissed Francisco Morales and it was everything she'd ever dreamed of. 

"Wanna go inside?" He asked and she nodded eagerly, ignoring the woos and whistles as Frankie took her hand and led her in. 

He took her upstairs and into what she assumed was a spare bedroom. His duffle sat beside a large oak dresser and what looked like the clothes he'd been wearing that day at school were neatly folded on top of it. 

"Is this okay?" He asked, pulling Andy's attention back to him "We can go back downstairs if you want. Just thought that maybe you'd like-" 

She shut him up with a kiss. She kissed him like it was the last time she ever would because, in reality, it probably was. The kiss became heated when hers and his hands started to roam. She unbuttoned his shirt and almost sobbed at what she revealed. Tanned skin and toned abs had her drooling like a hound. 

"We don't have to..."Trailed off Frankie when her hands went to unfasten his jeans but he got his answer when her hand slipped in and cupped his growing erection. 

"I want to." She whispered and that was all the invitation he needed. 

In a flash, the two of them were naked as the day they were born and Frank's head was between Andy's thighs. His tongue lavished her and Andy was glad of the music downstairs because she couldn't keep quiet if she tried. When Frankie pushed two long, thick fingers into her tight heat she shattered. Andy grabbed at him, desperate to pull him up to her level again and when he kissed her again, she moaned at her taste on his tongue. 

"Are you sure?" He asked one more time as he lined himself up with her entrance. 

"Fuck me, please." She pleaded and with one swift movement, he was seated deep inside of her. 

Now Andy was no virgin. She'd lost that to Sam Collins, her ex but he was tiny in comparison to Frank. She moaned loudly, grabbing the gloves of Frankie's ass and urging him to move. When he started with a languid pace, kissing her deeply as he worked out a rhythm. When he found her sweet spot though, he started to fuck her into the mattress. The sounds he pulled from her with bordering on pornographic and in no time at all she was there again. 

"Frankie... she whined as she threw her head back "Fuck Frankie, I'm cumming."

He focused his attention then, giving her every ounce of pleasure he could. She was squeezing him so tightly that he was sure he wouldn't last much longer but he was determined to make her cum once more time before he did. 

"One more Hermosa." He purred in her ear as his hand travelled down and his deft fingers started to rub her clit. 

The combination of him hitting her G-spot and his fingers giving her the stimulation she needed was all it took to have her gushing over his length. 

"Fuck." Frankie moaned as he sped up his thrusts, chasing his own high "Fuck baby I'm gonna cum." 

"Cum Frankie." Andy pleaded and he did. With one more deep thrust, he painted her walls with his spend and panted against her shoulder "Fuck, that was amazing." 

"I'm sure you've had better." Andy chuckled but Frankie pulled his head back and frowned at her. 

"No." He replied, shaking his head "No I haven't." 

The couple remained that way a little while longer before the two of them fell asleep in each other's arms. Andy knew that this was the one and only time she'd get to enjoy this so she made the most of it. Next week, Frankie would be gone. 

She'd be okay. 

She had to be...

Three years later...

Andy had been surprised when Ben had reached out. She hadn't heard high or tale from any of them in years. Ben had, sure enough, enlisted in the army the following year and that had been that. She'd written to Frankie for the first year he was gone but She had never received a reply. 

She had known from the start that it was a one-night thing but when something came to light two months later. She had been desperate to get hold of him. All of her attempts had come up empty her heart shattered. 

She'd meant nothing to him. 

She moved schools but kept in touch with her friends and kept her head down. Three years later she had managed to make something of herself. She'd opened a cafe in town that had proved popular among the locals and she was thriving. She hadn't needed Frankie or anyone for that matter. She'd made it on her own. 

Ben had arranged to meet her at her cafe on one of her days off. He'd sounded so excited to see her on the phone and she had tried to mirror that excitement but the truth was, they'd all gone radio silent for years and she had moved on. That time in her life was behind her.

Sort of. 

Ben was sitting in the nook when she arrived. He'd spotted Andy through the window and stood to greet her with a wide grin on his face but his expression changed the moment he saw the pram she pushed in front of her. 

"You're a mum." He stated dumbly, taking in the napping toddler before his eyes drifted to her. 

"Nice to see you too Ben." She snorted as she rolled her eyes at him. 

'I'm sorry it's just... Well, I wasn't expecting you to have a kid." He said as he pulled Andy into a friendly hug.

The child in question started to stir in her pram, brown eyes suddenly blinking up at the shocked man across from her. 

"Hi." She said sleepily as she gave him a small wave and he smiled and waved back. 

"Hi, there sweetie." He said as he crouched to her level "And what's your name?" 

"Juana." She replied and Ben grinned at her.

"What a pretty name." He gushed "And how old are you Juana?"

She held up two fingers, just like how her mum showed her and Andy couldn't help but chuckle.

"Two?" He stated and she nodded shyly "Wow, that's big." 

"No." She argued, pouting at the younger Miller "I'm little." 

"Yes, you are Mija." Andy said as she leaned down to pull the toddler out of her pram "Quieres una galleta?" (You want a cookie?) 

"Ce mama." She nodded and Andy smiled.

"Go pick one then." Andy said as she placed the toddler down and giggled as she tottled over to the till. 

"So you have a two-year-old?" Ben asked and Andy nodded. 

"Where's the dad?" He asked and Andy froze. 

After the radio silence from them all. She'd decided to keep Juana's existence to herself. She had never expected to see any of them again so now that she was standing with Ben, watching her daughter pick dance around with Anna her favourite barista. 

"He uh, well he kinda took what he wanted a left." She stated, trying to keep the details as vague as she could "Tried to reach out but he didn't want anything to do with me or her so..." 

"Shit Andy." Ben said as he pulled her into a warm embrace "Well she's cute as hell and clearly a great kid so clearly you didn't need him." 

"Thanks, Ben." 

The two of them sat down, Andy thanking Anna when the woman brought over her favourite coffee and her toddler who was munching on her cookie of choice. Juana decided to sit on Ben's lap whilst he told her about his time in the army. How he'd quickly moved his way up along with the rest of them and you found yourself proud of everything he'd achieved in two short years. 

"They all say hi by the way." Ben piped up as he downed the last of his coffee. 

"That's nice." Andy replied and Ben frowned at her response.

"You don't sound like it is." 

"It's just... I wrote to you... and Frankie, several times and I never got a response." 

"Well, when Will, Frankie and Santi arrived, they'd ended up getting shipped off to a different camp for basic training. Wasn't long after that that they were sent on their first tour so good chance he never got 'em." Ben stated plainly and you suddenly felt sick "As for me. I uh... I did get your letters and I did write back I just... Well, I could never bring myself to actually send them."

"Why?" She asked and Ben shrugged.

"I dunno. Wish I could give you a good reason but I can't." He replied "Just a shitty friend." 

"Bad word." Juana piped up and Ben chuckled. 

"You're right... Sorry sweetheart." 

"When you see Frankie... Will you uh, will you ask him if he got them?" Andy asked and he nodded. 

"Sure."

The two of them spent another two hours catching up before they had to part ways. Ben promised to keep in touch and so did Andy but they both knew that it was one likely to be broken. 

Life simply got in the way. 

Four years later... 

"Juana... You're going to be late!." Andy called up the stairs.

"Five minutes." Her daughter called down. 

Andy was secretly glad her daughter was taking her time. She couldn't believe that she was starting the 1st Grade. It felt like just yesterday she was handed to her screaming and furious in the hospital. A horn sounding outside alerted Andy to Juana's ride and suddenly the woman was practically pushed her six-year-old out the door. 

"Muuuum." Juana moaned and Andy chuckled. 

"Have a good day baby." She said sweetly as she kissed the crown of her daughter's head "Mummy loves you." 

She watched her daughter skip towards her ride and Andy felt her heart ache a little. Time was going so quickly. Next thing she'd know, Juana would be going off to college and she'd be alone. 

That thought scared her. 

Shaking her head, she hopped into her truck and drove to the cafe. Work was always a welcome distraction and when she arrived, she was happy to see her favourite regulars already sipping at their coffees and nibbling on the cake of the day. It was busy as always and soon morning faded into afternoon. Andy had just finished putting out some more cookies and cupcakes when the bell above the door rang alerting her to a new customer. 

"I'll be with you in a sec." She said in a musical tone as she twisted the plate so the price was facing forward then when she was done she stood up and gasped at who she saw. 

"Andy?" 

There, standing before her, plane as the day was Francisco Morales. He looked different. He was more filled out. The sleeves of his T-shirt stretched over strong biceps and for a moment she almost forgot that he'd completely blanked her for the last six years. 

"Frankie." She replied, giving him a small nod "What can I get you?" 

"Really?" He asked with a scoff and Andy frowned. 

"Really, what?" 

"We haven't seen each other in like seven years and that's what you say to me?" 

"What else should I say?" You snapped, anger bubbling under the surface.

"Oh, I don't know." Frank shrugged "How about, wow, it's been a long time. How are you?" 

"Okay." She said in a mocking tone "Hi Francisco. It's been a long time. How are you? Thanks for fucking me and then never speaking to me again." 

"I-" 

"Oh, on the subject of never speaking to me again. Did you get any of the dozen-odd letters I sent?" 

"You wrote me?" He asked, brows pulling together "I didn't get them," 

"Convenient." You scoffed "Did you want a coffee or?..." 

"Black... please." He said and Andy nodded before turning around to make his drink. 

Frankie watched her work. His heart aching from how poorly this reunion was going. Ben had mentioned that she had opened a cafe and so when Frankie had been discharged. He knew he had to see her. 

"I'm sorry I never got your letters." Frankie piped up but Andy didn't acknowledge she'd heard him "What did they say." 

"Mummy look what I did at school." Screamed Juana as she sprinted through the door of the cafe waving a painting above her head. 

Andy placed the coffee on the counter before opening her arms to accept the hug her daughter gave her. 

"Look, Mumma. It's us." She said as she shoved the picture into Andy's hands. 

"This is lovely, baby." She said as she placed a kiss on her daughter's brow "Let me just finish serving this customer then you can tell me all about your first day, okay?" 

"Is Anna here?" She asked and Andy nodded "In the back." 

Juana sprinted through the arch that led into the back, screaming Anna's name as she waved her painting again. Andy smiled at her daughter's retreating form before turning to find Frankie staring at the spot you'd been the moment before. 

"Frank?" 

"Is she mine?" He asked, taking Andy by surprise.

"What?" 

"She's what, six?" He asked and Andy nodded "So is she mine?" 

"Yes..." Andy whispered and that drew Frank's gaze. 

His eyes were brimming with tears as they flitted between the door and her. He had a six-year-old daughter. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" He choked and Andy lost it. 

"I did!! I wrote to you. Sent you sonogram pictures." She sobbed "I tried tracking you down but everyone I spoke to told me that they couldn't tell me where you were." 

"I-" 

"Besides." Andy interrupted "You didn't try and get hold of me. We had one incredible night together and then that was it. Radio silence for seven years. Shit, Francisco. I had to carry her and give birth to her without you. I had to move schools. My mum didn't want me to get bullied so instead I was sent to some private school where I was teased for being a pregnant seventeen-year-old." Andy was sobbing openly now, seven years of heartbreak pouring out of her "So don't act like the victim Frank because you aren't. I did everything I could to let you know about her." 

"Why didn't you tell Ben when you saw him last?" He asked and you shrugged. 

"Honestly?" He nodded and you sighed "I'd assumed you didn't care about me so I decided that she was better off without a dad. We've been fine without you Frank and we'll be good when you leave again." 

"I was discharged." Frankie piped up and And's brows rose in surprise "I'm out. For good."

"That's great." She scoffed "So what ?" 

"So, I want to know my daughter." He stated plainly "I missed out on six years. I don't want to miss another day." 

"You can't be serious?" Andy growled. 

"I'm her father... I have a right to know her." 

"You have zero rights, Francisco." She snapped "You're not on her birth certificate. She doesn't even know you exist." 

"Andy please." The man pleaded "Please." A thick silence hung over them both a moment before he spoke again "Can I just meet her at least?" 

Andy thought about his request a moment. He looked so heartbreakingly sad that she felt herself breaking. 

"I swear to you." He implored again "I didn't get your letters. If I had known about her then I wouldn't have stayed away." 

"I don't know Frankie, I-" 

"She doesn't need to know who I am." He pushed "I never stopped thinking about that night." This grabbed Andy's attention and she studied him as if trying to find the lie "It meant a lot to me. I'd never felt a connection like that before and I haven't since." 

"Sure Frank." You scoffed but that look he gave you that night returned. 

"I haven't." He assured her and Andy felt her defences fall "Please." 

"Okay." Andy stated, her eyes drifting to the back "Juana." She called out and Frankie's heart leapt at hearing his daughter's name "Can you come out here a sec." 

Not two minutes later, an excited six-year-old emerged with a wide smile on her face. 

"Yes, Mumma?" She said sweetly as she looked at her mum and then at Frankie. 

"I want you to meet someone." Andy said softly as she guided her daughter to stand in front of her "Juana, this is Frankie." 

"Hi." She said softly, giving the man a shy smile. 

"Hi to you too." Frankie said as he kneeled so he was eye-level with her "It's nice to meet you." 

"How do you know Mumma?" She asked, her head tilting to one side. 

"We went to school together." He replied, eyes drifting to Andy who was watching over the interaction. 

"Juana." Andy said softly as she kneeled so she too was at her daughter's level "Frankie is your daddy." 

This took Frank by surprise. He had been ready to just meet her as a stranger. 

"My daddy?" Juana asked and Andy nodded.

"Yeah, baby." 

"Where have you been?" She asked, her tone almost accusing and Frankie couldn't help but smirk.

"I've been away sweetie but I'm back now." He said softly as he pinched his daughter's cheek affectionately. 

"Forever?" She asked and he gave her a broad smile.

"Yeah." He said with a nod "Forever." 

"We need to go baby or we'll be late for Abulela." Andy piped up and Juana nodded before throwing her small arms around Frankie's shoulders and giving him a warm hug. 

"It was nice to meet you, daddy." She said before pulling away and running to grab her pack that she'd dropped when arriving. 

"Thank you." Frankie said as he stood up straight. 

"Don't make me regret it." She warned before informing Anna she was leaving "Don't break her heart." 

...

Andy's friendship with Ben had fallen back into place as easily as breathing. He'd been a little hurt at first when he'd learned that the sweet toddler he'd met all those years ago was basically his niece but he'd also understood why you hadn't told him. 

Things with Frankie hadn't been as easy. He was trying but Andy was struggling to trust him. He wasn't the same man she'd loved all those years ago. He was jumpy. Most loud noises triggered some sort of freak out and that, in turn, frightened Juana. She was weary of him but had warmed to Ben instantly. 

This had been hard for Frank to swallow. Leaving the army had been a struggle for him. He had resorted to desperate measures to try and calm to storm that raged in his head but nothing seemed to work. Not even the remedy that was currently burning a hole in his pocket. He wanted to do better. Not just for his daughter but for Andy. He just didn't know where to start. 

...

"How are things with Fish going?" Ben asked as he watched his brother-in-arms play with his daughter. 

"Okay, I guess." Andy replied with a shrug and that piqued Ben's interest. 

"You guess?" 

"He tried." She commended, letting out a long sigh "Lord knows he tries but everything seems to make him jump. He's been a lot better with Juana and I'm really glad they're bonding but I'm scared that one of these days he's going to flip. " 

"We saw some shit, Andy." Ben stated and she listened intently "He got us through some pretty messy situations. We all owe our lives to him." 

"Why was he discharged?" She asked and Ben scraped a hand over his mouth before he answered "Was shot in action. The bullet hit below his vest. Lost a kidney and was in a coma for two weeks." 

Andy gasped. 

"Was discharged with full honours." He stated plainly "Got a fucking medal and everything but that don't get rid of the nightmares." 

"What do you mean?" 

"He's got PTSD babe." Suddenly everything made sense. 

Andy and Ben shared a look that spoke a thousand words. Suddenly, her agitation was replaced with guilt. She'd been too caught up in her own issues to see his. 

"DADDY." Juana screamed, pulling Andy and Ben's attention to the child "Daddy, stop shaking... please daddy." She sobbed as she held his face in her small hands. 

Andy and Ben we at his side in a flash, Ben taking the sobbing child in his arms as Andy stroked Frank's face as the seizure eased. 

"Daddy." The child sobbed and Ben's heart broke for her. 

"Baby. I need you to get my phone and call 911 like I showed you okay?" Andy stated before she returned her attention to Frank. 

"Fish... Fish can you hear me." Frankie didn't answer. 

The man lay there, eyes rolling around in their sockets as he tried to breathe. Andy could feel his pulse was rapid but weak and she felt sick to the stomach. 

Joana's voice floated in the air as she ran back to them "My daddy started to shake and now he's breathing funny." She told the person on the other end as she held the phone to her face with both hands "Yes my mummy and uncle Benny are with him." She said, pausing again to let them speak "Okay." She said with a small nod before holding out the phone to her mum "They want to talk to you." 

Andy took the phone quickly and then listened to their instructions "Sit him up and let him lean against you." She said to Ben, waiting for him to finish before bending his knees "Does he have a heart condition?" Andy asked Ben and he shook his head. 

The next question they asked you made her stomach sink. 

Had he taken anything? 

She started to rummage around in his pockets only to come up empty but just when she was about to give up, she felt something. Pulling it out she choked back a sob at the bag of white powder she found. 

"What's that mummy." Juana asked and Andy sobbed. 

"It's nothing, baby." She said before giving her daughter a weak smile "I need you to go stand by the door and wait for the ambulance. Can you do that baby?"

"I wanna stay with Daddy." She sobbed and your heart broke just a little more.

"I know you do baby but daddy needs you to do this for him okay?" 

She nodded and Andy gave her a sweet smile before watching her sprint back towards the house. 

"Fish?" Called out Ben suddenly and Andy turned to look at the two men "No, come on Frank." He pleaded. 

Frankie's eyes were open wide as he tried and failed to breathe. 

"Come on Frankie, you need to breathe for us." Andy begged as fat tears slipped down her swollen cheeks. 

"OVER THERE," Joana called out and the duo looked up to see the paramedics sprinting towards them. 

They were quickly pulled to one side and Ben lifted Juana and held her close as the three of them watched the medics work. 

"What's his name?" They asked and Ben was quick to answer. 

"Frankie." He choked and the medics nodded 

"Age?" 

"27." 

"Has he taken anything?" 

"This?" Andy stated as she handed them the bag, her eyes pleading for them to be mindful of what they said. 

"He's seizing." Called out one medic and Andy sobbed harder as Frankie's body started to shake. 

"Daddy." shrieked Juana as her brown orbs leaked masses of tears "Daddy, stop shaking." 

"Please take her inside." Andy pleaded and Ben nodded, carrying the screaming child into the house. 

...

Three hours later, Andy was sat in a hospital waiting room with both the Millers. Will was holding Andy whilst Ben cuddled a sleeping Juana and time seemed to go at a snail's pace. Because of this, Andy was able to think about what she was going to do or say to Frankie if she ever saw him again. 

She was angry at him for his choice of coping mechanism but mostly she was angry at herself. She had been so caught up in her own hurt that she had failed to see that Frankie was hurting. The fact that she hadn't figured out for herself that he had PTSD made her hate herself even more. All the signs had been there. 

She'd just failed to see them. 

"Family of Francisco Morales?" Called out a doctor and they all looked up in unison. 

"Yes," Andy replied as she raised her hand a little and she gave the doctor a weak smile when he approached them. 

"How is he doc?" Asked Will and the doctor sighed. 

"He suffered a massive heart attack on the ambulance ride over." The man stated and they all sobbed "His heart is weak but there doesn't appear to be any permanent damage." That elicited a sigh of relief and Andy sobbed into Will's shirt "He's going to need therapy. We would recommend sending him to a facility for veterans with PTSD. There are programmes for people like him." 

"People like him?" Ben growled and the doctor threw his hands up. 

"I meant no offence." He replied "I just mean... He needs help. It's clear he's not coping well."

"We'll help him." Andy pipped up, knowing in her heart of hearts that it was the right thing to do "We'll take care of him." 

"Okay." The doctor replied, "A nurse will fetch you when he's ready for visitors." 

Half an hour later they were let to the ICU. Frankie's frail form was smothered in wires and tubes. The gown swallowed him and made him look so small despite his muscular build. Andy entered first, followed closely by Ben who was carrying a, very awake, Juana. 

"Daddy?" She called out but Frankie didn't even twitch. 

"Daddy's sleeping right now." Said Ben softly and the little girl nodded.

"Can I lay with him?" She asked and Ben shared a look with the nurse who gave him a small nod. 

"You can but you need to be careful okay baby?" Andy stated. 

"I will, I promise." 

Sure enough, she laid down beside her father, extra careful not to pull on any of the wires and tubes that were attached to him. Andy watched with fondness as Juana started to sing him the song she always sang when she was sick. Her small hand affectionately petted his brown curls as she leaned on the other one. 

"She's a great kid." Ben cooed and Andy smiled at him. 

"Yeah... she really is." 

An hour into their visit, Ben and Will went in search of decent coffee leaving Juana napping beside her father and Andy waiting patiently for Frankie to wake up. 

Frank groaned. His senses hit him all at once. Andy was at his side in a heartbeat, taking his hand in the hope it would ground him a little as he came around. 

"Frankie?" She called softly, careful not to wake Juana "You with me?"

Frankie nodded weakly before motioning to his mouth, unable to speak just yet. Andy grabbed the bowl of ice chips beside his bed and popped a few in his mouth. When he'd had enough, she placed the bowl down and resumed her seat beside him. Silence blanketed them for a while before she decided to break it. 

"Why Frankie?" She asked, "Why did you think coke was going to make things better." 

Frankie's eyes drifted to his dosing daughter and his guilt consumed him. The truth of the matter was he didn't know why he'd resorted to such a lousy coping mechanism. It didn't help him. It just made him more paranoid and yet he'd found that he'd not been able to function without it. Now as he lay in that hospital bed, stroking his daughter's curls he realised how much he had to lose. 

"Please don't take her away from me." He said, his voice loud enough for Andy to hear him "I'm so sorry. Please... please don't take her away from me." 

"Oh, Frankie." Andy sobbed "I will never ever take her away from you." She promised and it was Frankies turn to cry "We'll get through this." She assured him "Together." 

"Daddy?" Said Juana as she rubbed her tired eyes. 

"Hi, baby." He said sweetly as he gave her a warm smile. 

"You better?" She asked and he gave her a small nod. 

"I am thanks to you." 

5 years later... 

Andy jumped when she felt two arms wrap around her middle but then she hummed when she felt a warm kiss press against her neck. 

"Good morning wife." Frankie cooed as he buried his face in her neck. 

"Mmmm, morning husband." 

"And how are my girls this morning?" As his gaze drifted to the baby that was sleeping soundly against Andy's chest. 

"We are perfect." She replied as she turned her head to kiss him, smiling when she heard Juana enter. 

"Ewww... get a room would you." The eleven-year-old moaned as she grabbed her backpack from the side.

"Technically, we're in one." Frank countered, sticking his tongue out at his daughter when she did the same to him. 

"Where's your brother?" Frankie asked as he looked around for the toddler. 

"HERE!" Mateo screeched as he waddled into the room, clutching his favourite bear. 

"You want breakfast Mijo?" Andy asked as she carefully handed the newborn to her father. 

"Ce, mama." Mateo replied as he nodded eagerly. 

"Ana?" 

"I'm good thanks." She replied before grabbing the last of her books and shoving them into her pack. 

"See you later." She called out before dashing to the door. 

"When did she start hating breakfast time?" Frankie asked as he placed a soft kiss on his daughter's brow as her face started to scrunch. 

"Right around the time she discovered boys." Andy chuckled.

"She better not have." Frank grumbled and Andy laughed loudly, Mateo mimicking his mum "You'll never like boys... will you Mija?" He asked as he bounced his tiny daughter in his arms. 

Looking at his wife, he thought back to five years ago when she'd promised him that they'd get through it together. He had gone to rehab. Gotten clean and proposed a year later. It wasn't long after that, that they learned she was pregnant with Mateo. He had been just the blessing they had needed. The final piece of the puzzle and then three years later... Mariana was born. His perfect little angel. 

One last little blessing. 

His life was exactly as he had dreamed it would be one day. Andy and him and the beautiful children they had created together. Life was perfect and he vowed that he would never do a thing to jeopardise it again. 

Fate had other ideas. 

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#frankie ‘catfish’ morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #masterlist #Frankie Morales x original female reader #Francisco Morales x original female character

[beskarandblasters]

Bluffing Season

Enemies to Lovers!Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Author’s note: Ya know like “cuffing season” lmao!! Thank you to @pascalispretty, @fhatbhabie, and @hyzer34 for beta reading! 🤍

Summary: Frankie Morales is your next door neighbor of the worst kind. To put it simply, you two can’t stand each other. But when his girlfriend breaks up with him right before the holidays he asks you to be his fake date for Christmas, not wanting to go home to his family single yet again. You reluctantly say yes and as you spend time with him you realize he’s not as terrible as you once thought.

Word count: 14.6k (what the fuck lol)

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, reader is a baker, two years post Triple Frontier, slow burn, enemies to lovers, fake dating, jealousy, made up lore for Frankie/his family tree, reader lowkey got mommy issues (just a shitty family in general), drinking, mentions of drugs, food/eating, Frankie describing his trauma, some Spanish used, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, pet names (cariño), sort of ambiguous time skips, Frankie is either a Libra or a Scorpio!!, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Late October

Beep Beep Beep

Ugh. Another shit start to your day with shit sleep as per usual. Running your own bakery means a lot of early mornings. Normally you don’t mind waking up early since you love what you do. You bought a new house on Magnolia Drive eight months ago which made your commute to the bakery much shorter. However… Your realtor neglected to tell you that it came with the worst neighbor on the face of the Earth. His name is Frankie and you can’t stand him. When you first moved in, he seemed normal, an ex-military, single guy living on his own. The deception didn’t last long, though. Because after about two weeks of living next to him, the shitstorm commenced. And now you wished you picked literally any other house in this city. His friends are at his house all the time, one of them always blocking your driveway with their pickup truck. They stay until at least four in the morning, blasting music when Frankie knows you have to work early the next day. He’s probably the worst neighbor in the entire state of Florida. 

You’re getting in your car to start your morning commute for work when Frankie is grabbing the morning paper from his mailbox. You physically recoil when you see him. There’s a harsh line of demarcation separating your lawn from his because he cuts his grass once in a blue moon. It’s such an eyesore.  

“Have you thought about, I don’t know, cutting your lawn?” you ask before shutting your car door.

He shoots you the middle finger and mouths something you can’t hear. You roll down the window for him to take a few steps closer to your car and repeat, “Stop feeding the fucking stray cats.”

Okay, maybe you aren’t the perfect neighbor either. But doesn’t he deserve it anyway?

“Bite me,” you respond, rolling your eyes and backing out of your driveway.

He rolls his eyes, too, and storms off. You giggle to yourself, feeling proud that you got a rise out of him. If he’s going to piss you off the least you could do is return the favor. 

-

Work is fine, a little busier than normal. But the afternoon exhaustion is hitting. You can’t wait to go home, take a shower, and maybe get some sleep before Frankie’s friends come over. It’s Friday and they’ll be even more unruly than they normally are during the week. Don’t they have lives? Or like… a fucking family to go home to?? Probably not if they’re hanging out with the likes of him. 

But alas, it’s finally time to go home. You close up the bakery and get in your car to drive back, excited to just melt into the couch for a few hours. As you turn onto your street you see that Frankie’s driveway is empty, for now, that is. He’s not outside, either. So that means you get to just slip inside your house without a hostile interaction for once. Score!

You pull into your driveway, get out of your car, and start walking towards your front door when a disgruntled voice stops you dead in your tracks. 

“Hey!”

Not again. 

“What do you want now?” you say, whipping around and using the bitchiest voice you can muster. 

“Cut your fucking tree,” Frankie says, holding up a lemon. 

…Is he fucking for real? 

You have a lemon tree at the edge of your backyard and a few branches hang over the fence and into Frankie’s yard. You never thought to trim it because you assumed you were doing something nice for him, letting him have some of the lemons. But no, apparently he wants to complain about free fruit. 

“You’re complaining about… free fruit?”

He stutters a bit, tripping on his words as if he just realized how stupid he sounds.

“I guess not.”

“That’s what I thought,” you say, turning and heading into your house.

The fucking nerve of that man. 

The rest of the night is pretty uneventful aside from a bitter man complaining about free fruit. You hear Frankie’s friends next door and grumble to yourself. How do they have the energy to party every single day of the week? You turn in early and do your best to ignore how loud they are, getting ready for another busy day at the bakery. Tomorrow’s Saturday, the busiest day of the week, and you need to be well rested. Well rested as you can be with all the noise from next door. 

-

The morning’s been typical so far; wake up feeling exhausted, argue with Frankie in the driveway, drive to work, open the bakery; and the usual stuff. It isn’t until halfway through your business hours that something… interesting happens. A woman enters the shop and browses the cakes in your display case. 

“I’d like to get some writing on a cake.”

“Sure! Which one would you like?”

“That one,” she says, pointing to one on the bottom, a vanilla cake with vanilla buttercream and strawberries in the middle. 

“Okay,” you say, grabbing it out of the case and taking it to your decorating table, “What would you like it to say?”

“Well, it’s for my boyfriend, Frankie so I’d like it to say “Happy birthday, Franklin” with a fish. I guess his nickname was catfish in the military.”

You know for a fact this is for Frankie because of the nickname. You’ve heard his friends screaming it next door when they’re drunk. But you also know for a fact his name is not Franklin, it’s Francisco. You didn’t have to ask him or anything, Amazon has delivered some of his packages to your house in the past by mistake. So this is fucking hilarious. 

“Any specific color for the writing?” you ask, stifling a chuckle. 

“Black is fine.”

You get to work on the writing and have mixed feelings. It’s kinda shitty that his own girlfriend doesn’t know his full name. And it’s also shitty that he’s going to have a birthday cake at his party with the wrong name on it. You should feel bad but… Nah, this guy sucks. 

You glance over at his girlfriend before moving on to the fish. Although she clearly doesn’t know her boyfriend that well at all, you can’t deny that she’s beautiful. And all of a sudden you’re feeling… jealous? Wait, why are you getting jealous of her? For a guy you can’t even stand?

You gotta finish decorating this cake and get her out of here so you can try to deal with your conflicting feelings. You package the cake back up and walk it to the counter to cash her out. 

“Okay, your total is fifty-three forty-nine. Cash or card?”

“Card,” she says, tapping it on the counter. 

The receipt prints out of the machine for her to sign but before you hand it to her you look at the name printed on the bottom; Heather Ryan. 

“Okay, just need your signature and then you’re all set!” 

She signs her name on the receipt and slides it back to you. 

“It looks great! Thank you so much!” she says before grabbing the cake and leaving. 

Now that she’s gone you can process your weird and sudden emotions. You didn’t know he had a girlfriend and to be honest, it kind of surprises you that he has one in the first place considering his… lifestyle. But why are you jealous? He’s the worst. 

Although… When you first moved in, you did think he was kinda cute before he showed his true colors. He got you with his curly brown hair peeking out underneath his hat but the attraction didn’t last long. Once his antic began, the attraction dissipated. 

…Or so you thought.

Stop it, you tell yourself. He has made your life hell for the better part of a year. 

You bury down your weird and confusing feelings for now, trying to continue the rest of the day as normal. The rest of the day is pretty uneventful and soon enough five o’clock rolls around. Just as you’re locking up the bakery, you get a text from your friend, Ally. 

Hey, bestieee!! Drinks tonight?

You know what, why not?

You respond with: 

Oooh, what time and where?

You get in your car and drive home, excited to have something to look forward to tonight. And at least you’ll be gone for some of Frankie’s antics. As you pull into your driveway you notice his friends aren’t there yet, all the better for you. You  check your phone and Ally says;

7:30. Let’s go to the Harp tonight!! I’ll meet you there. 

She’s referring to a bar downtown but to you, it honestly doesn’t matter where you go. You need to blow off some steam and work through your weird feelings with your friend, get her opinion on this random burst of jealousy you’re feeling. 

You take a shower, change into a skirt and fitted tee, and do your makeup before getting ready to leave. Just to find one of Frankie’s friends blocking your driveway, of course. Why wouldn’t they do this shit on the one night you have plans?

Nah, this isn’t going to fly. You gotta say something. You march right over to his door and judging by the noise coming from inside, his birthday party is tonight. Alright, maybe you won’t be a huge bitch about this right now. Especially when you know how his birthday cake turned out…

You knock and someone other than Frankie answers the door. You recognize him as one of Frankie’s friends but you can put a name to his face. 

“Oh, shit! Neighbor girl is here!” he says, calling out to Frankie over his shoulder. 

Before you can ask him about the truck blocking your driveway he says, “I’m Benny. Come on in!”

Yeah, he’s clearly drunk. Whatever this will be quick. You reluctantly step inside and look around. You’ve never actually been inside Frankie’s house before. It’s honestly nicer than you expected considering his lifestyle and the way he keeps his lawn. You’re standing in his living room with Frankie and three other men. You’re feeling anxious all of a sudden but you don’t show it. Who knows what Frankie said about you to these guys? 

“Look who it is, Fish!” Benny says, putting a hand on your shoulder. 

“Guys, this is my neighbor,” Frankie says. He looks a little… nervous? You’ve never seen him like this before. 

“I’m Santiago,” a man with dark hair says, shaking your hand. 

“Nice to meet you,” you say, forcing a fake smile. 

“And this is Will,” Santiago continues, gesturing to a man with short blond hair. 

“You got anyone else coming, Fish?” Santiago asks, turning towards Frankie, “What about Heather?”

“Uh, she’s not coming.”

“Shit, man. Is everything alright?”

“We’re fine. But actually, can you help me with something in the kitchen?” Frankie asks, making eye contact with you. He looks bothered, like there’s something he wants to say but isn’t letting it come out. 

“Sure,” you reply, following him to the kitchen where he opens the refrigerator. The cake is sitting on the shelf in its box and your stomach drops. Poor guy. 

He grabs the cake from the refrigerator and sets it on the kitchen counter. 

“Can you help fix this? She put the wrong name,” he says, opening the lid to reveal the cake you decorated earlier today.

“I can try. Can you get me a butter knife?”

He opens his silverware drawer and hands you a knife. 

“Well, I think I can smear out the name and make a swirly pattern around the happy birthday?”

“Whatever you have to do,” he says softly. 

You take the knife and swipe away the “Franklin”, making a tie-dye design on the cake but stopping at the fish.

“You want me to leave the fish?”

“Nah, scrap it. Catfish is pretty much the only thing she knew about me anyway,” he says dejectedly.

“Right…” you respond awkwardly, swiping away your hard work from earlier. You can only assume he doesn’t know this birthday cake is from your bakery. But you fix the cake the best you can so it just says “Happy Birthday” with a swirly design. 

“That better?” 

“Yes. Thank you,” he says, letting out a sigh, “I just didn’t want them to see it.”

“I get that-”

“Let’s get this fucking party started!” Benny says, entering the kitchen and slamming a six-pack of beer on the counter. 

“Oh, actually I have to go-” you start. 

“What?? No way, you gotta stay,” Benny says, putting an arm around your shoulders. 

You could stay and just cancel your plans with Ally. But this is Frankie’s birthday party and you weren’t exactly invited. And you’re both aware of how much you painfully dislike each other. You look at Frankie, searching his eyes for an indication of how he’s feeling. 

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” he says softly. 

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna impose.”

“Nooo, stay,” Benny says, looking at you with a wide grin on his face. 

“By all means,” Frankie says. 

“Fuck yeah,” Benny says, “Can I get you a drink? We have all sorts of shit.”

“Hard cider?”

“A woman with taste. I like it,” he says, removing the arm around your shoulders and opening the refrigerator. 

You pull out your phone to text Ally. It has to be something inconspicuous. She knows you hate Frankie with a passion so you can’t exactly say you’re partying with him and his friends right now. Maybe just lie and say you’re sick? 

You do exactly that, saying your stomach is bothering you. Just as you press send, Benny’s hanging you your hard cider. And now it’s just the three of you in Frankie’s kitchen, standing around awkwardly. 

“I have some of the MMA guys coming, too. That alright?” Benny says. 

“Fine with me. The more the merrier,” Frankie smiles. But the smile seems forced. 

Just Frankie says that there’s a knock on the door and it’s the guys Benny was referring to. A handful of men pile into Frankie’s living room with Will and Santiago, and now you’re the only girl here. And also sort of regretting your decision to cancel on Ally. 

“Let me introduce to you some of my friends!” Benny says cheerfully, grabbing your hand and leading you back to the living room. You exchange hello’s with Benny’s friends, a group of four guys whose names you can’t really be bothered to remember. 

Soon enough the folding table is pulled out and all of the guys are playing beer pong. You decide to just stand and watch, sipping your drink and keeping to yourself… except for Benny, who has been by your side all night. At first, it was kind of annoying but now that you’re talking to him he’s actually pretty cute. Or it’s just the alcohol talking. 

“Can I get you another drink?” he asks when yours is empty. 

“Sure,” you smile, handing the empty bottle to him. 

Now that you’re alone for a moment your eyes are scanning the room again, and they lock eyes with Frankie, who’s playing beer pong but not really paying attention. Benny comes back with your drink, handing it to you and leaning against the wall with his arm raised over his head. 

“Frankie never mentioned just how gorgeous you are.”

“Oh! Thank you,” you respond, caught you off guard. You’re feeling awkward, not knowing what to say back so your eyes are searching the room again. And once again, they lock with Frankie’s, whose eyes are… angry? But why is he angry? Is he… jealous? Nah, no way. He has a girlfriend. But she’s also proved herself to be shitty. And besides that, you two hate each other. Unless… you really don’t?

You decide to do a little experiment. Benny is super hot, but maybe you could turn up the flirting a bit and see just how jealous Frankie gets. 

And that’s exactly what you do. You’re laughing at all Benny’s jokes, falling for every cheesy pickup line, doing the thing where you look from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up to his eyes, literally anything to flirt. And even though it’s for an experiment, you’re having fun and you could actually see yourself maybe liking Benny.

You look over at Frankie, and to your surprise (and also delight?), he’s looking directly at you. His eyes are almost pleading with you. But at the end of the day, you don’t owe him anything. And he’s taken. So why stop all the fun?

“I just can’t believe this is the first time we’re meeting,” Benny says, shaking his head.

“I didn’t know Frankie had such nice friends!” you respond. 

Benny leans a little closer to you, his eyes fixed on your lips. Oh shit, is he really gonna kiss you? Right here? Right now? In front of everyone? 

But also… why not? 

You lean forward more too, inching closer and closing the gap between you two. Just as your lips are about to meet, Santiago shouts, “Jesus, Fish! What are you doing?!” 

You pull away from each other and look at what’s going on. It seems that Frankie royally screwed up the round of beer pong because he and Santiago just lost. 

“Alright, alright. Don’t yell at the birthday boy,” Will laughs. 

Santiago sighs and says, “Best two out of three?”

The other men shrug but Frankie excuses himself, saying, “I need another drink.”

You can’t help but feel like that was your fault. Shit, maybe Frankie does have some sort of crush on you? Because why else would he get jealous over his friend flirting with you? Wouldn’t he want that to happen, as a means of burying the hatchet between you two?

“I have to use the bathroom,” you say to Benny. 

“Down the hall on your right,” he says.

You set your drink down on the coffee table and walk through the kitchen, but before you head to the bathroom you take a look at Frankie, who’s sipping a beer and looking at his birthday cake. A look of confusion and uncertainty on his face. You just can’t help but feel bad for him in some sort of weird way. But there’s also a nagging feeling deep down inside you that’s telling you that you shouldn’t feel bad for him. This guy has been nothing but a complete asshole to you. Why do you care so much about his feelings? 

You head down to the bathroom and pull out your phone. There’s a text from Ally and thankfully she wasn’t upset about the plans getting canceled. But you look at the time and decide, you should just go home. Besides, it’s getting a little boring watching the men play beer pong and you’re running out of things to talk about with Benny. 

You head back into the living room and say to Benny, “I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Aw, okay. I’ll catch you later. But maybe you can come to one of my matches sometime?”

“I’d like that,” you smile. 

You poke your head into the kitchen and tell Frankie you’re leaving.

“Happy birthday by the way,” you say. 

He nods and waves his hand a little before you bid your goodbyes to everyone else and walk next door. And the only thought on your mind is… What the hell just happened?

You flop down on your couch and the room feels like it’s spinning, your mind swirling with all sorts of thoughts and emotions. You’re feeling a weird mix of confusion, pity, and also… apathy? You run through the basics: 

1. Frankie’s girlfriend sucks. 

2. It’s shitty that his birthday cake was messed up. 

3. You really don’t mind Benny at all and can see yourself liking him. 

4. At the end of the day, Frankie is still an asshole. 

And that trumps everything else, no matter how bad you feel for him. 

-

Mid-December 

Several weeks have gone by and you haven’t seen much of Frankie, or his friends for that matter. Lately, it feels like you've been living at the bakery twenty-four-seven. Especially since Thanksgiving just ended. But that also means you’re heading into another busy season; Christmas time. 

The holidays are your least favorite time of year. But running your own bakery means that you get to keep busy during the holidays. It’s always the perfect excuse for when your mother calls and asks why you’re not coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. You can usually get out of one and not the other. This year you skipped Thanksgiving so you’ll be due home for Christmas… unless you can think of another excuse to stay home again. But then you’ll get another phone call from your father claiming that “you’re breaking your mother’s heart” or whatever. 

From what you can tell, Frankie stayed home for Thanksgiving, too. Though you don’t know if his family is around here or not. His friends didn’t come over for Thanksgiving so you assume they were with their own families respectively. And you’re not really sure what happened with his girlfriend. So the two of you were just… alone that day. For some reason, the thought makes you kind of… sad? But like you told yourself weeks ago, don’t feel bad for Frankie, like at all. 

But now that you’re thinking of Frankie… he’s been his typical self, but maybe scaled back a bit? His lawn hasn’t been cut in God knows how long and his friends still come over to party here and there. But it’s definitely been a lot less than usual. Maybe the holidays are tough for him, too. 

Just as you’re leaving to go open the bakery the week before Christmas, you get a phone call from your mom. You sigh and roll your eyes because you already know what this is about. And you’ve been dreading this phone call since Thanksgiving. 

“Yes, mom?” you say as you answer the phone. 

“Is that any way to answer a phone call from your mother?” she says. God, you can already feel the judgment and disappointment seeping from her voice, even over the phone. 

“Ah, sorry Mom. How are you?”

“I’m just calling to see if we can expect you home for Christmas this year.”

“Uhh-”

“You know, since you broke your mother’s heart and didn’t come home for Thanksgiving.”

“I think.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy, uh, with the bakery and all.”

“That’s always the excuse. I’m getting sick of your shit. I need a straight answer as to whether or not you’ll be home for Christmas now.”

As you open your mouth to respond, probably with some poorly thought-out rebuttal since you’re so heated, you spot Frankie walking across his lawn toward you. Perfect escape from this phone call maybe?

“Shit sorry Mom. Gotta go. My neighbor’s coming up to me.”

As you pull the phone away from your ear and hang up, you hear your mom’s angry protests. But you’re too focused on Frankie to care. Because what could he want with you now? You haven’t done anything to piss him off lately. That you can remember anyway… 

“Hey,” he says with a shaky breath.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly.

“I need to ask you for a favor.”

“Okay…”

“Feel free to say no because it’s weird but I don’t know what else to do. And I’m sorry to drop this on you but-”

“Spit it out.”

“Will you come home with me for Christmas as my date? It would be fake, of course.”

Oh. You definitely weren’t expecting that to be the favor he needed. And for some reason him adding in “it would be fake, of course” is so funny. It’s so funny that you actually burst out into a fit of laughter. 

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re not being serious.”

“I am.”

“But… why?”

“My girlfriend broke up with me right before Thanksgiving.”

“Let me get this straight. She put the wrong name on your birthday cake and you let her break up with you first?”

“It’s not funny.”

“I know it’s not.”

“So, you’ll help me?”

“Why can’t you just go home alone?”

“Because I can’t go home for another holiday alone. I already skipped Thanksgiving. My family’s always pestering me about settling down and I can’t take it anymore.”

“What’s in it for me?” you sigh. 

“Uh, you don’t have to go home to your shitty family? I mean I’m just assuming from that phone call you just had.”

“Yeah and instead I get to go home to yours?”

“My family’s not shitty. They’re nothing like me.”

You can’t lie to yourself and say that the offer isn’t tempting. Because as soon as you mention the word “boyfriend” to your mother she’ll be all over it. Like Frankie’s family, your mom’s been pestering you to settle down, too. If you offer her some sort of crumb to give her the indication that you’re finally “settling down” maybe she’ll leave you alone for once. 

“Just think about it,” Frankie says while you’re contemplating his offer to himself. 

He turns to walk back to his house but you stop him before he goes anywhere.

“Wait!”

He turns around to face you again with a hopeful look in his eye. You can’t believe you’re actually agreeing to this.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess it beats going home to my family.”

“Thank you,” he says, pulling you in for a hug.

“Alright, the fake relationship hasn’t started yet,” you say, wincing at his embrace.

“Shit, you’re right,” he says, pulling away.

“How long are we there?”

“From the twenty-third until New Year’s. That okay with you? I know you have the bakery and all…”

It’s a little earlier than you prefer to close and it’s quite a long time to be gone but you suppose you can make do. Maybe you can catch a short flight home if you need to be back to the bakery by then?

“Yeah, fine with me. Where does your family live?”

“Savannah, Georgia.”

Oof, five hours in Frankie’s truck, just the two of you… But it’s worth it.

“Okay,” you sigh. 

“Great. Thank you so much. We’ll leave around ten, okay?”

“Alright. Sounds like a plan.”

“Oh, one more thing. Can you bake something?”

You let out a sigh. “Yeah, sure. I’ll think of what to make.”

“Thanks again,” he says, putting his hands together like he’s praying before turning and walking back to his house. You’re left in your driveway questioning all your life choices that led up to this moment. But now you get to call your mom and tell her about this mysterious boyfriend you just happened upon. 

You get in the car to leave for work and call your mom again, making sure to act a bit more pleasant this time. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, mom,” you say, putting on your cheeriest voice.

“What happened with your neighbor?”

“Oh, nothing. He just had a package for me. Got delivered to his house by accident.”

“Oh, okay. So are you coming home for Christmas or what?”

“Actually, I’m not. I’m sorry. But I have a good reason?”

“And that is?”

“I’m going to my boyfriend’s family’s Christmas.”

“Boyfriend? You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

“Uhh, it’s sort of new.”

“What’s his name?”

“Frankie.”

“Well, don’t fuck this one up. I want to meet him after Christmas, okay?”

Classic mom. She always has to make this about how much you suck.

“Of course. I’ll talk to you later, though. I gotta go open up the bakery.”

“Alright. Love you, bye.”

“Love you, too. Bye.”

That’s the best phone call you’ve had with your mom in a while. Maybe pretending to date Frankie will be a good thing?

-

It’s time to go. You're dressed in a comfy outfit for the drive. Everything’s packed and ready to go. You decided to make lemon bars from the lemon tree in your backyard. They’re packed away neatly in your to-go container. You head outside with all of your bags and Frankie meets you in your hard to help you. 

“Jesus, did you pack the kitchen sink, too?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

You’re already questioning why you said yes to this. But then your mother’s nagging voice is deep in the back of your mind. 

It’s better than going home, you tell yourself.

You get into the passenger seat and Frankie backs out of the driveway. You look at his lawn out the window as you leave. Still not cut, of course. 

For the first thirty minutes of the drive, it’s painfully silent. Until Frankie says, “You let me know if you need to stop to pee or something.”

“Okay…” you say awkwardly.

Another fifteen minutes goes by and he breaks the silence again. 

“You know, if we want to sell this we have to act like a real couple.”

You were dreading this conversation.

“Yeah…”

“For one, we’ll probably gonna be sharing a bed.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And we have to act like we somewhat like each other when we’re not alone.”

“I know,” you sigh.

“Think you can do that?”

“I said yes to this, didn’t I?”

“Right…”

You can’t sit through another uncomfortable silence again. You’ve still got like four more hours of this drive to go. 

“I guess we have to get to know each other.”

“Right. So what do you do? Oh fuck, I know you have the bakery but I meant tell me about it.”

“Uhh, right. I opened it four years ago. I just make desserts, like pastries and shit.”

“Gotcha.”

“What about you?”

“I used to be in the Army, specifically the Delta Force.”

“Oh, wow. How long were you in the Army?”

“I joined right after I got out of high school.”

“Long time,” you comment, “When did you leave?”

“About three years ago. I was just a pilot for a while.”

“Gotcha. What do you do now?”

“Not much. I’ve been living off my pension for the past two years after some shit happened.”

“We don’t have to talk about-”

“Our friend passed.”

“Oh, Frankie. I’m sorry.”

He says nothing more and you’re so curious for more information but you don’t want to pry either. It falls silent again and then you decide to pry for more information about a less heavy topic. 

“So… if you don’t mind me asking, what happened with your girlfriend?”

“She broke up with me two days before Thanksgiving.”

“That’s rough. What did you tell your family?”

“I pretended I was sick.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Don’t be. I probably should’ve ended things a while ago. I don’t think she had any idea about who I really am.”

“Right.”

“She didn’t even know my full name.”

The cake that you made. 

“Yeah…”

“She put the wrong name and didn’t even get a cake I like.”

“About that.”

“Hm?”

“Do you know where she got that cake from?”

“No.”

“She came to my store.”

“…Did you know it was the wrong name?”

“Well yes, but what was I supposed to say? She’s the customer. I can't correct her. I just have to write what she ordered.”

“I know…” he sighs. 

“Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that she was the wrong person for you, okay?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I felt bad making it.”

“You did?”

“I mean, it’s kinda shitty if your girlfriend doesn’t know your name, right?” You chuckle. 

“Right again,” he nods, looking over at you from the driver's seat. 

“So what kind of cake do you like then?” you ask. 

“Chocolate. I’m a simple guy.”

“Noted. So now I know Frankie Morales used to be in the Army, used to be a pilot, and likes chocolate cake. Anything else I need to know?”

“That about sums me up I guess.”

“Oh, come on! There’s more to you than that. What do you like to do for fun? Besides partying.”

“Oh, uh, I like to play poker with my friends. I’m into cars. And we’ll go support Benny at some of his matches. That’s pretty much all I do these days.”

“And also not cutting your lawn.”

“Listen-”

“And complaining about free fruit,” you tease. 

“Alright, alright. I know I haven’t been the best neighbor in the past.”

“Uh-huh,” you say sarcastically. 

“I guess after what happened I went down a spiral. And I was just… selfish for a while. Only caring about what I wanted to do and not thinking how it affects others.”

“That’s fair. You went through something traumatic.”

He opens his mouth to say something else but no words come out. It feels like he’s hiding something or not telling the full truth. And he wants to tell you, but he feels just can’t, that you’re not ready for that just yet. 

It’s silent again and this time you find yourself dozing off with your cheek pressed up against the cool glass window. Somehow you’re able to fall asleep to Frankie’s music that he put on to fill the silence. You recognize it’s a Tom Petty song, but as you’re trying to put your finger on just what song it is, sleep fully overtakes you. 

-

You were only out for about an hour and a half. It’s hard to sleep for long periods in a truck. As you open your eyes and stretch a little, Frankie says, “Wake up, sleepyhead. You’re officially the worst co-pilot in the world.”

“Whatever,” you say sarcastically, also while stifling back a yawn. 

“I’m just teasing. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“It’s fine. I probably shouldn’t sleep for too long anyway. It’ll mess up my sleep schedule.”

“Oof, my sleep schedule is pretty fucked up.”

You glare at him from the passenger seat. But he doesn’t get why, looking at you and going “What?” with a shrug.

“I noticed,” you say coldly. 

Everyone knows the best time to air your grievances with each other is when you’re trapped in a moving vehicle together!

“Okay… Why do you seem mad?”

“You and your friends are just… loud.”

“Oh.”

“And I have to be up early in the mornings to open the store.”

“Oh,” he says again like the realization is hitting him. 

“It’s alright…” you say awkwardly, even though it’s not. 

“It’s not alright. I wasn’t being considerate.”

“I know, but I didn’t say anything either.”

“You sure said something about my lawn,” he teases. 

“Because it’s a fucking eyesore, Francisco!”

“Be honest. You just wanted to see me mowing the lawn with my shirt off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t lie! I saw the way you looked at me when you first moved in.”

“Oh, shut up!” you say, playfully slapping him on the arm. 

“You’re not denying it,” he says with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Maybe I thought you were cute when I first moved in. Didn’t last long, though.”

“I know,” he sighs, “I’m trying to be better. Ironically enough I think Heather dumping me was what I needed.”

“I think so, too.”

Before either of you can say anything else, Frankie’s passing a sign indicating there’s a rest stop ahead. 

“Can we stop? I have to pee,” you say. 

“Sure thing,” he says, pulling off the highway and into the rest stop parking lot. 

“Meet you back here?” you say, opening the door. 

“I’ll go with you. All sorts of seedy characters hang out at rest stops,” he says, getting out of the car and walking around to your side. 

He helps you get out of the truck and walks inside with you, placing a hand on the small on your back as you cross the parking lot. His head’s in a constant swivel, eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble. 

“I think I’ll take it from here,” you say, stopping in front of the women’s restroom. 

“I’ll be waiting here,” he nods. 

You nod back and look at what he’s wearing; a burgundy t-shirt with a black zip-up sweatshirt, gray sweatpants, and of course the Standard Oil cap. Now that you’re starting to see Frankie for who he really is… you don’t mind him at all? Seven months ago you never thought this would’ve happened, that you’d actually be civil with him. Maybe you just had to give him a chance. 

You do your business and walk back out to the lobby to meet Frankie. He’s on high alert, standing stiff as a board and taking in all of his surroundings. Until he sees you and his face lights up. 

“I got us some stuff for the road!” he says cheerfully, holding up a plastic bag. 

You look inside the bag and “some stuff” was an understatement. It looks like Frankie bought out the entire store. There are bottles of water, soda, different kinds of chips, candy, and gum- you name it, he bought it. 

“I wasn’t sure what you liked. So I just got a few different things,” he says, most likely noticing how wide your eyes got. 

“Thanks, Frankie. That was sweet of you.”

“Do you need anything else before we get back on the road?”

“I think I’m all set,” you nod. 

You walk back to the truck with him and he does the same thing he did before, placing a hand on your back as you cross the parking lot. He opens your door for you and you take the bag from him once you’re settled in your seat. He gets back into the driver seat and soon enough, you’re back on the road.

“So I should probably prepare you for meeting my family,” he says, reaching for a Slim Jim in the bag. 

“Oh god, why?” 

“They’re not bad. They’re just… a lot? But they mean well.”

“Okay.”

“So you have my mother, Rosa, and my father Francisco Sr. But he passed away when I was twenty.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I have three older sisters.”

“You’re the baby of the family?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing. It just tracks.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks. My sisters are Ria, Isabel, and Laura. Ria is married to Emmanuel and they have two kids, Luna and Camila. They’re college-aged. And then Isabel is with her wife, Aurora.”

“Okay,” you respond, mentally trying to keep track of all this. 

“And then Laura is married to Rafael and they have three kids, Sofia, Anthony, and Marcelo. Sofia is twelve. I think Anthony’s nine or ten. And Marcelo is four. He’s my favorite.”

“Frankie! You’re not supposed to have favorites.”

“It’s not like I tell them that. I also have two aunts, Aunt Linda and Aunt Maggie. They’re my mother’s sisters. And then my Uncle Tommy, he’s my dad’s brother. And then there’s Cousin Ben, he’s Tommy’s son, around my age.”

You’re doing mental gymnastics, trying to memorize everyone’s names, ages, and who they’re married to. 

“Got all that?” Frankie says with a smirk, noticing the puzzled expression on your face. 

“I think so?”

“Don’t worry. Everyone will introduce themselves when we get there. They’re not gonna leave you alone so sorry about that in advance.”

“It’s alright. It beats going home to my family.”

“What are they like? I’m assuming they’re… not good if you don’t want to go home for the holidays.”

“Yeah, you’ve got it pretty much. My mom is super overbearing and nitpicking. I can’t do anything, or wear anything, or even say anything without her giving her two cents. My dad just sits there and lets her spew her bullshit without a filter. And then my younger sister, Erica, is just… perfect. She can’t do anything wrong in their eyes.”

“That sounds tough.”

“It is. I stopped going home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. I try to just do one each year but I can’t take it anymore.” 

“I understand,” Frankie says softly. 

“My sister’s in medical school to be a cardiologist. So to my parents, running a bakery just doesn’t compare.”

“That’s stupid. Don’t they know how hard it is to run your own business?”

“No, and they probably don’t care to be honest.” 

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright. Thanks for getting me a way out of Christmas this year, though.”

“Of course. You’re doing me a big favor.”

The rest of the drive goes smoothly and eventually, you’re pulling into Frankie’s parents' house in Savannah. The second Frankie’s truck is in the driveway, an older woman, probably his mother, is running out of the front door and into the driveway. He parks the truck and you get out to meet her. She immediately pulls Frankie into a big hug. 

“My baby’s home!!,” she says, embracing him and placing her hands on the back of his head. 

“You and that damn hat,” she says, “You have such beautiful hair, mijo. Why do you hide it?”

“You know I like the hat, Ma.”

She pulls away and her eyes are immediately on you. You’re nervous about her first impression of you, even though you’re not even Frankie’s girlfriend. But she thinks you are and you need to play the part. 

“It’s so nice to meet you!” she says, pulling into a hug, too. She gives the best hugs, rubbing your back and swaying just a little, even though you just met. 

“I want you to be comfortable here, okay? My house is your house,” she says, pulling back and grabbing your hands. 

“Thank you so much for having me in your home, Mrs. Morales,” you smile. 

“Please! Call me Rosa. Let Francisco get the bags and we’ll go inside, yeah?”

“Okay,” you nod, following her inside the house. 

It’s a beautiful home, decorated to the nines with the Christmas spirit. She leads you to her living film where there are pictures of everyone Frankie mentioned on the way here. On the coffee table, there’s one of Frankie’s parents with him and his sisters. You can really see the resemblance there between him and his mom. They have the same warm brown eyes and dimples. 

“You have a beautiful home, Rosa,” you tell her, sitting on the couch next to her. 

“Thank you, honey,” she says, “Tell me about yourself. It’s so hard to get Francisco on the phone these days. I feel like I know nothing about you.”

“I live in Tampa like Frankie. We don’t live too far from each other And I run a bakery.”

“Wow, good for you. It’s hard running your own business. Your parents must be very proud.”

“They are,” you say, lying through your teeth. 

“How has my son been? He’s been a little off since he lost Tom in Colombia two years ago. He’s not doing drugs again, is he?”

“Oh! No, to my knowledge, he isn’t?” you respond, stumbling over your words. That was a lot of information to take in, most of it Frankie hasn’t told you about yet. 

“That’s good,” she sighs, “I worry about him.”

“I get it. But I think he’s on an upward trajectory.”

“Thank you, honey. I know he’s a lot to put up with.”

Frankie meets you in the living room and plops down on an armchair across from the couch, letting out an exasperated sigh. 

“Tired?” you chuckle. 

“Yeah,” he pants, “Someone had to pack everything they own and the kitchen sink, too.”

“Francisco! You grew up with all women. Don’t you know this is how we are?” his mother says. 

“Yeah, Frankie,” you add sarcastically. 

“You two are gonna be the death of me,” he says, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes. 

“Where did you put the lemon bars?”

“In the refrigerator.”

“You made lemon bars? Francisco told me you liked to bake.”

“Yeah!” you say, turning towards her again, “I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

“Why don’t you both help me prepare dinner for tomorrow night? After you rest, of course. You had a long drive.”

“Oh, yeah. I need a nap,” Frankie says, getting up from the chair and heading up the stairs. 

“Get some rest, honey,” she says, gesturing towards the stairs. 

“Okay,” you say, feeling a little awkward that you’re supposed to just go lay in a bed with Frankie. 

Frankie’s waiting for you at the top of the stairs, smiling down at you. For some reason the sight makes your heart skip a beat. You meet him upstairs and he leads you to his childhood bedroom. His walls are blue and his bookshelves are filled with baseball trophies from when he was a kid up until high school. There are a few car posters scattered on his ealls. The bags are at the foot of his bed that’s tucked away in the corner of his room and thankfully, it’s not a twin-sized bed. Across the room is his desk, a few comic books stacked in a messy pile like he never left. 

“This is my room,” he says, gesturing vaguely to the space around him. 

“Cute,” you say, walking around and eyeing some of the stuff he has on his shelves. There’s a picture in a frame of Frankie as a kid with presumably his father right after one of his baseball games. He was a cute kid, wearing a toothy grin with some holes for the baby teeth he lost. 

“That’s my dad,” he says, noticing you looking at the picture. 

“Now that I’m looking at him, I can’t tell who you look like more,” you comment. 

“Definitely my dad,” he says. 

You turn to look at him and realize he’s right. A lot of his facial features match his father’s, but his eyes- those are his mother’s. 

“Are you tired?” he asks. 

“A little,” you yawn. 

“I don’t have to sleep in bed with you,” he says quickly. 

“I thought you said we were going to? You know, to keep up appearances or something,” you say, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. 

“Oh, right. Just making sure.”

He takes off his sweatshirt and his hat, his curls matted down from wearing it on his head all day. He sets them down on the desk and walks over to the bed, pulling back the comforter and slipping in between the sheets. He moves to the side closest to the wall, letting you have the outside and the wall with the outlet to charge your phone like a true gentleman. You crawl in beside him, lying down side by side, mere inches from each other. 

“You don’t sleep naked, do you?”

He doesn’t say anything at first and you take that as a yes. 

“…I won’t while we’re home.”

“Cool,” you say awkwardly, rolling on your side and closing your eyes. 

“Goodnight?” he says. 

“It’s just a nap, but sure. Goodnight, Frankie,” you chuckle. 

…You do your best to fall asleep but to be honest, you’re freezing. You don’t really get why. You’re only a few hours north and Georgia doesn’t typically get too cold. Unless his mom has the air on or a window open; something. That doesn’t make sense, though. Don’t elderly people keep their houses entirely too hot?

“You’re shivering,” Frankie says, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“What? No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I can see you shaking.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have to be cold.”

“What’s your solution then?”

“I could tell my mom to adjust the-”

“No, do not do that.”

“Or there’s the other option.”

“Uh huh…”

“I could hold you.”

“…You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind.”

“…Fine.”

You feel him scooch closer to you and all of a sudden his warm chest is pressed up against your back. The comforter lifts for a second before his muscular arm wraps around you, pulling you even closer towards him. You’re immediately feeling warmer. He’s like a human space heater or something. 

“Better?”

“Y-Yeah. Thank you.”

As much as you hate to admit it, you’re much more comfortable now. However, there is one thing that’s keeping you from falling asleep. And that’s Frankie’s bulge presses right up against your ass. 

…You don’t hate it, though. If anything it makes you feel… good? Knowing that you have that effect on him. Maybe he really was jealous weeks ago at his birthday party. All of this begs the question; when did his feelings for you begin?

Lost in thought and enveloped in Frankie’s body heat, you drift off to sleep. 

-

You wake up an hour or so later to the doorbell ringing. Frankie wakes up, too, stretching and removing the arm that was slung over your waist. You already miss its absence. 

Frankie’s mom is talking to someone at the door. And it sounds like she’s talking to… a pizza delivery guy?

Frankie rolls onto his back, stretching again and yawning. You fall onto your back, too, lying side by side. 

“I think she ordered pizza,” Frankie says sleepily. 

“That was nice of her.”

“Just so we don’t have to worry about making dinner tonight while we prepare tomorrow’s.”

“Make sense,” you reply, rolling out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor. 

“Did you sleep well?” Frankie asks, sitting at the edge. 

“I did. Thanks for keeping me warm.”

“You’re welcome but it wasn’t all for you, though.”

“Oh?” you ask, wondering if he could be referring to the hard-on he had while holding you…

“Yeah, I can’t sleep next to you if you’re shaking like a leaf.”

You roll your eyes and he chuckles, leading you down the hallway and down the stairs, straight into the kitchen where the pizza awaits. 

“Dinner’s here!” Rosa says cheerfully, gesturing to the pizza boxes on the counter, “There’s a salad and garlic bread, too.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Frankie says, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and handing it to you.

“Thank you,” you say, “Are you sure you don’t want anything towards it?”

“Nonsense! When you’re in my house, I take care of you,” she says, waving you off. 

A saint of a woman she is. Frankie’s lucky to have a mother like her. The three of you sit at the kitchen counter eating while Rosa talks about what Christmas Eve dinner will be. 

“So tonight we’ll prepare the pasteles. And tomorrow we’ll do the rice and beans. Ria is bringing rolls. Laura’s bringing salad. And Isabel’s bringing flan.”

“Ooh, I love flan. I can make gingerbread cookies for Christmas Day, too,” you say, finishing your slice of pizza. 

“Thank you, honey. We’ll have a great time tomorrow. And you’ll get to meet all of Frankie’s sisters.”

“How exciting,” you say looking over at Frankie. 

“Frankie’s the baby of the family,” his mother says. 

“I could tell,” you snicker.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“You just have little brother energy,” you shrug.

“What about you, dear?” his mom asks. 

“It’s just me and my sister. I’m the oldest.”

“Well you have older sister energy, so how about that?”

“So I’m wiser and more responsible?”

“Whatever,” Frankie sighs. 

“It’s true, Francisco. You can ask Ria.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he says sarcastically, taking all your plates to the sink. 

You clean up from dinner with Frankie before preparing the pasteles. You’re standing at the kitchen island, stuffing the pasteles and listening to Rosa tell stories about Frankie when he was a kid. 

“He was my toughest kid to potty train,” she says, shaking her head. 

“Mom!” Frankie says, shooting daggers at her with his glare. 

“What? You were. And I have the pictures to prove it. For the first two years, you would only use the training potty. I’ll bring out the photo albums tomorrow.”

“No,” Frankie says quickly. 

“Oh yes,” you laugh. 

“Ughhh,” Frankie sighs while you and Rosa share a laugh. 

Soon enough all of the pasteles are prepped for tomorrow and the kitchen is clean again.

“Thank you both for helping me. Now get some sleep! You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with this family.”

“Goodnight, Ma,” Frankie says, heading towards the stairs. 

“Goodnight. Thank you again for everything,” you say to her. 

“Of course, honey. See you in the morning!” she says. 

As you’re heading up the stairs, she calls out to Frankie, “Francisco! Make sure you show her where the fresh towels are!”

“I will, Ma,” Frankie says, calling down the stairwell. 

“You want to shower?”

Before you can respond he quickly adds, “Not with me of course.”

“I know,” you snort, “But sure. Where’s the bathroom?”

He leads you down the hallway and stops at a door on the right, opening to reveal a linen closet. 

“Towels are here. Bathroom’s over here,” he says, pointing to a door directly across from the linen closet. 

“Thanks,” you tell him, grabbing a towel and heading to the shower. You shut the door behind you and now that you’re alone for once, you let your mind wander…

What happened in Colombia? And what sort of drugs was Frankie on?

You turn on the shower and strip, letting the hot water run down your body as you think about all the possibilities. He did say he lost a friend. Maybe that’s what happened in Colombia. But that doesn’t explain the drugs. 

A knock on the door brings you back to reality. 

“Can I come in?” Frankie asks. 

“Uhh-”

“I just have to brush my teeth. I won’t look.”

“I guess.”

He opens the door and enters the bathroom, keeping his word and looking away from the shower curtain. In fact, he looks at anything else in the bathroom but the shower curtain, picking up a bottle of Tylenol from the medicine cabinet and reading the warnings. You poke your head out of the shower, watching as he brushes his teeth and reads the label on the bottle. And there’s something so… cute about it, so endearing. And now that you think about it, you wouldn’t particularly mind if he saw you in the shower. You can’t believe you’re actually admitting this to yourself. 

But before you know it he spits the sink and rinses his mouth, exiting the bathroom and leaving you with your confusing feelings yet again. You finish your shower and dry off, thinking about his mysterious past again. All of this strange information begs the question… What was he doing in Colombia in the first place? Does he have some dark secrets he’s hiding? And if so, how could he be so cute? 

You look at the toilet and see that Frankie also brought you your pajamas, flannel Christmas pants, a short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of lacy underwear…

That means he went through your bag, which should make you mad but the fact he decided to bring you your pajamas so you didn’t have to walk down the cold hallway sopping wet is adorable. 

You’ll ask him about his past later you decide. For now, he’s your cute pretend boyfriend and you’re going to live in that fantasy for a while. 

Once you’re dry and dressed, you hang your towel up on a hook and walk back to Frankie’s room, where he’s tucked into bed waiting for you. You crawl into bed beside him, lying down on your side and feeling his warm embrace again. His arm returns around your waist and soon enough you’re falling asleep, comforted by his warmth and his scent. 

-

The smell of food cooking downstairs wafts up to Frankie’s room, pleasantly waking you up. Frankie’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded neatly on his tummy. 

You roll over and ask, “You okay?”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m fine. I think I’m just nervous.”

“Nervous for what? Your family sounds awesome.”

“They are. They can just be overwhelming, I guess.”

“I get it. It’ll be fine, though. Like you said, I don’t think they’ll leave me alone.”

“Right,” he says, shaking his head, “It’s stupid. Today’s gonna be fun.”

“Wanna help me with the gingerbread cookies?” you say, getting out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor. 

“Sure,” he says, sitting at the edge and yawning, “Do you need to get anything for them?”

“I could just DoorDash some stuff. I don’t want to raid your mom’s kitchen.”

“Ah, she won’t mind. Let’s go downstairs.”

He stands up and stretches, the short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing lifting a little and exposing some of his tummy. His flannel pajama pants are hanging low on his hips and he’s got a little bed-head going on, his curls slightly matted in the back. God, he’s just so… cute. You can’t deny it any longer. As much as you don’t want it to be true, Frankie Morales is a cute man.

You follow him downstairs to the kitchen where his mother is cooking away, stirring different pots and pans on the stove. 

“Good morning you two,” she smiles. 

“Good morning,” you respond, “It smells amazing down here.”

“Thank you, honey.”

“Ma, I think we’re going to make the gingerbread cookies if we won’t be in your way.”

“Go ahead! By all means. Maybe you can decorate them with the kids tonight?”

“Good idea! Do you need me to get anything from the store?”

“Nonsense! I should have everything you need.”

“Told you,” Frankie says, opening a cabinet and looking through the shelves with you. 

To your surprise, she has everything you need for the cookies. And as you sit down at the dining room table Frankie says, “This kitchen is always fully stocked.”

As you roll the dough you think about tonight, meeting the rest of Frankie’s family. You’re excited to meet them but you’re also wondering what you should wear. You packed a few different options for outfits because every family’s vibe is different. Your family tends to lean more formal when it comes to holidays but Frankie’s family could be the complete opposite. 

“Frankie?” you ask, cutting the gingerbread men out with a cookie cutter. 

“Yeah?”

“What does your family wear on Christmas? Like do they dress up?”

“Oh, we abandoned trying to look nice a long time ago. Especially once my sisters started having kids.”

“Oh, okay. So don’t dress up?” 

“Nah.”

That makes you feel at least a little relieved. For some reason, you’re dying for them to like you. And you don’t even get why. You’re not Frankie’s girlfriend. There’s a large chance you’ll never see them again after you leave and go back to Florida. 

Once the cookies are on the trays, you pop them in the oven and set a timer on your phone. Rosa’s just about finished with dinner for tonight and Frankie’s cleaning up the mess from the cookies. You look at the clock on the stove and ask, “What time is everyone coming?”

“Around five or so.”

It’s already two-thirty now. You should probably get ready soon, in case Rosa and Frankie need the shower. 

“I’ll pull the cookies out if you want to go get ready,” Frankie says as if he read your mind. 

“Oh okay, thanks. Fifteen more minutes.”

“Gotcha,” he says, leaning against the counter beside the stove. 

You go upstairs and into Frankie’s room, going over all of your outfit choices in your head. You decide to wear option 3, light wash jeans and an emerald green sweater, nothing too fancy. You grab your clothes and your makeup and head to the bathroom, taking extra time to get ready. The timer on your phone for the cookies goes off and you hope Frankie remembers to take them out. You continue your shower, anxiously thinking about meeting the rest of his family. 

Eventually, as you’re dressed and putting on your makeup, Frankie knocks on the door. 

“Can I come in?”

“Go ahead,” you say, leaning forward toward the mirror and putting on your mascara. 

He opens the door and looks at you, practically bent over the sink. 

“You look…”

“Huh?” you, turning your head towards him. 

“You look nice,” he says, eyes wide. 

“Thanks. I’m almost done and then the bathroom’s all yours.”

“No rush. Take your time.”

You finish your makeup and gather all your stuff, leaving him in the bathroom and heading back to his room. You plop your stuff down on his bed and think of what to do next. Might as well make yourself useful while he’s showering and get the icing bags ready for the gingerbread cookies. You head back down to the kitchen, where Rosa’s sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. 

“You look beautiful, honey,” she says. 

“Thank you,” you say, sitting down across from her. 

“Francisco’s in the shower?”

“Yes, he is. I think I’m going to get the icing bags ready for the cookies if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” she says, springing up from her chair and rifling through the kitchen cabinets. 

She pulls out an electric mixer, confectioners sugar, and food coloring, setting them down on the table. 

“Milk’s in the refrigerator and let me get you some Ziploc bags…” she says, reaching into the cabinet again.

“Thanks,” you say, getting to work on the icing while she sits across the counter and watches. 

“I know I’ve just met you but I want to say thank you, for taking care of my son,” she says. 

“Of course,” you smile, scooping icing into the ziploc bag for makeshift piping bags.

“He hasn’t been the same since Tom died. But now that he’s here, it’s like he’s his old self again.”

Tom. There’s that name again. You have to know what happened if you’re going to keep up this charade. This is the second time she’s mentioned it and you’re playing along like you know what happened. It’s bound to come up again. 

“I’m glad he’s doing much better,” you say, adding food coloring to the bags. 

Eventually, you hear the water turn off which means Frankie must be getting out of the shower. Rosa gets up from her stool and says, “Well now that Francisco’s finally done, I guess I’ll go shower. I’m sure he left me no hot water.”

You two share a laugh and she heads up the stairs. You’re left alone with your thoughts until Frankie comes back downstairs again. So for now, in the fleeting moments of solitude, you think of ways to ask Frankie about his past that don’t sound completely insensitive. You could ask him under the guise of just trying to keep the charade going. This whole thing was his idea. He’d have to understand, right?

“Hey,” he says, snapping you from your thoughts. You didn’t even notice him coming downstairs. 

“Hi.”

“These look good. The kids will have fun decorating them.”

“I hope so,” you say.

You’re both just standing awkwardly in the kitchen, not saying a word. You think to yourself that maybe now would be the best time to ask, in case you need this information for tonight to go smoothly. 

You open your mouth to ask, “What happened in Colombia?” but you’re interrupted by the front door opening. 

“Feliz Navidad!” a woman’s voice shouts. You’re assuming it’s one of Frankie’s sisters or aunts. 

He pokes his head down the hallway and shouts, “Ria!” 

You glance over at the clock and she’s early. Frankie looks over at you and says, “She’s always early.”

“She’s the oldest?”

He nods. It makes sense. 

She comes into the kitchen and pulls Frankie into a big hug. She looks like a younger version of Rosa, a little bit shorter than Frankie. Her husband and kids pile in behind her, her girls hugging Frankie and her husband shaking his hand. 

“So nice of you to show up for Christmas. Not battling some mysterious illness this time, huh?” she teases. 

“I’m not lying! I was really sick.”

You’re standing there awkwardly in the kitchen, not trying to interrupt the family reunion. It isn’t until one of Ria’s daughters looks over at you and asks, “Who’s this?” that your presence is acknowledged. 

Frankie walks over to you and snakes an arm around your waist, proudly saying, “This is my girlfriend!” followed by your name. 

“Nice to meet you!” Ria says, “It’s been such a long time since Francisco’s brought a girl home!”

This is the second family member to refer to him as Francisco and now you’re wondering if you should be doing the same. Before you can continue she motions her daughters over and says, “This is Luna and Camila. Luna’s in her junior year of college and my Camila’s a senior in high school!”

“Exciting times for both of you,” you comment, not really knowing what to say. 

But Ria continues anyway. “And this is my husband, Emmanuel,” she says, gesturing to her husband in the corner. He seems like the quiet type, letting his wife do all the talking in social situations. 

“Where’s Ma?” Ria asks Frankie. 

“In the shower. Are the others on their way?”

“Laura’s almost here. Isabel and Roro will probably be late as per usual. Will you grab the rolls out of the car?”

Emmanuel nods, again not saying much of a word at all before heading out to the car in the driveway. Ria and the girls take off their coats, hanging them on a coat rack by the front door. While Luna and Camila retreat to the living room, Ria takes the rolls from Emmanuel and puts them in the drawer underneath the oven, putting them on a low setting to keep the rolls warm until dinner starts. Soon enough, you’re all sitting in the living room together, awkwardly exchanging glances and waiting for either Rosa to come downstairs or for someone else to arrive. 

And for a while, it feels like the front door doesn’t close, a slew of family members coming in left and right. First, it was Aunt Maggie. Then it was Laura with her husband, Rafael, and their kids, Sofia, Anthony (who insists you call him Tony), and Marcelo, Frankie’s favorite. And Frankie wasn’t lying about Marcelo being his favorite, his eyes practically lit up the moment Laura walked in the door, carrying him on her hip. After Laura’s family, Uncle Tommy and Cousin Ben came. Frankie’s arm around your waist tightened when Ben looked you up and down which made your heart do somersaults. Aunt Linda followed soon after. And finally, last but not least, Isabel and Aurora (who goes by Roro) arrived. 

Somewhere in between all of the commotion Rosa returned downstairs. And you’re left with your head spinning, trying to keep track of everyone’s names and trying to make a good first impression. And you think you succeeded? Laura and her kids are really nice. Marcelo’s been hanging off you and Frankie since he set foot in the door. Isabel is definitely the coolest Morales sister out of the three of them. You don’t really have any complaints about Frankie’s aunts. And Uncle Tommy’s been dozing off on the couch, reminding everyone to wake him up when it’s time for dinner. You don’t mind Ben at all but he definitely has a little crush on you. You don’t spend too much time talking to him, just enough to learn he teaches high school English.

You also noticed that Isabel, Roro, Uncle Tommy, Ben, and his brother-in-law all call him Frankie and not Francisco. But his mom, Ria, Aunt Maggie, and Aunt Linda call him Francisco. And to the nieces and nephews, he’s Uncle Frankie of course. 

Eventually, Rosa announces that it’s time for dinner. Frankie and Ben set up a small folding table for the kids, except for Marcelo who sits on Laura’s lap. You sit in between Frankie and Isabel. Rosa sits at the head of the table and before everyone digs in she says, “Now who would like to say grace?”

“I will,” Tony says, raising his hand from the kids' table.

“Go ahead,” Rosa says.

“Grace. Okay, we’re done. Let’s eat, everybody!”

Everyone shares a laugh and Rosa decides, “You know what? It’s good enough for me!”

The rest of Christmas Eve goes smoothly. After dinner, you help the adults clean up before bringing out the gingerbread cookies to decorate. All of the kids, even Luna and Camila, sit around the table with you, decorating the cookies with your makeshift piping bags. Ria takes a picture of you guys, brows furrowed in concentration as you all try to make the cookies absolutely perfect. 

“Aren’t you gonna do one?” you ask Frankie, who’s standing beside you and watching. 

“Sure,” he says, pulling up a chair. 

He grabs a gingerbread woman and begins to draw a face on her. But before he’s done he gives her a frown and angry eyebrows, holding it up and saying, “Look! It’s you when I don’t mow the lawn!”

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, grabbing your own gingerbread man and giving him not only angry eyebrows but a yellow blob in his hand. 

“Look! It’s you when you complain about free lemons.”

The kids laugh even though they don’t know the full context of the joke. But once the last cookie is decorated, people begin to head out, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and saying goodnight. Once the main level is cleaned up you and Frankie say goodnight to his mom. She tells you that Christmas dinner is at Ria’s and that it starts at two. 

With that, you’re off to bed, returning to your rightful place of being spooned by Frankie. And for once, the two of you are alone again. Your mind goes back to Tom, what happened in Colombia, and Frankie’s drug addiction. You’re just gonna do it, rip the bandaid off

“Frankie?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Well, earlier your mom was talking about your friend Tom and what happened in Colombia… I know it’s not really my business but should I know what happened? You know to keep up the act-”

He sighs and you fear you’ve overstepped.

“I figured it was going to come up sooner or later.”

He pulls away to rest on his back, staring at the ceiling and recounting what happened. You lie on your back, too, looking over at him as he begins his story. 

“A few years ago, I developed a really bad addiction to coke. And it cost me almost everything. I lost my pilot's license. Santiago approached me, Tom, Will, and Benny about going to Colombia to steal money from this drug lord, Lorea.”

“I see,” you comment, letting him continue.

“It seemed appealing at the time. I needed the money, you know?”

“I get it,” you say softly.

“The mission was a fucking shitshow. We took fucking two hundred and fifty million dollars and lost all of it. It was too heavy for the helicopter so we crash-landed in a cocaine farm. They thought we were DEA and Tom killed some of them. So then we had to pay them as some kind of reparation. We went through the Andes on mules and two of the villagers followed us. One of them shot Tom and we had to carry him, the rest of the money through the mountains. When we finally reached the coast, the getaway boat was there waiting for us but the town was filled whatever was left of Lorea’s crew. There was no way we could carry all that cash with Tom’s body and make it to the boat without being killed. So we had to dump most of it down a fucking ravine.”

He’s getting more and more upset as he tells his story. And you feel guilty you even asked in the first place. He didn’t need to tell you all the details. He could’ve said his friend Tom died on a military mission in Colombia and that would’ve been enough to quell your curiosity. 

“Somehow we made it to the boat, but not without a fucking car chase and shootouts. By the end, we were left with a little over one million dollars each, but we decided to give it all to Tom’s family,” he says, finishing with a deep breath. 

You roll onto your side and look over at him. He’s not crying but you can tell he’s visibly upset, his eyes misty. 

“Thanks for sharing that with me. I know it’s hard to recount a traumatic experience like that.”

“It’s okay. Figured you should probably know. My family thinks it was some sort of mission for the Army, not that we went rogue. I don’t want them to know the true nature of what it was… greed.”

“Understandable.”

“So after all that I came home with a dead friend and no money.”

“I guess the overgrown lawn and the constant partying make sense now.”

That actually gets him to laugh. 

“I guess it does,” he chuckles, “But thanks for putting up with me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“And thanks for coming here and doing this for me. That happened two years ago and my family has been worried sick about me since. Whenever my mom calls me I just… I just lie. I think if she saw how I was doing now it would break her heart. But here with you, she thinks you’re like my saving grace.”

You don’t say anything because you really don’t know what to say. It’s nice his mother feels that way, but it’s all a lie. 

“I know that was a lot…” he says.

“You’re okay. I’m here to listen,” you reassure him. 

“You should probably get some sleep. You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with my family for another day.”

“Okay,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side. Frankie spoons you again like he always does. This time you don’t feel something hard against your lower back, instead you feel Frankie’s breath by your ear. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, holding you a little tighter as he falls asleep. 

-

You wake up to Frankie still holding you just as tight. You’ve never had a Christmas like this, one so peaceful. 

And then it hits you… it’s Christmas. Which means you need presents, something you completely forgot all about. You were too wrapped up in pretending to be Frankie’s girlfriend. 

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

Has he been awake this whole time? And still holding you just as tight… 

Whatever, worry about that later. 

“I forget to get everyone fucking presents.”

“Already took care of it.”

“Really?” 

“Mhm,” he says, propping his elbow on the pillow and looking down at you, “You’ve never met them before. How could you get presents for people you don’t even know?” 

“Right,” you say, lying on your back. 

“Merry Christmas,” he smiles. 

“Merry Christmas,” you respond. 

“Let’s go exchange with my mom.”

You roll out of bed first and let him grab the presents from his suitcase. 

“What did I get her?”

“A sweater. It’s her favorite color.”

“Ooh, good idea.”

He hands you the present and it’s wrapped like a typical guy would wrap it. 

“I’m telling her you wrapped it.”

“Oh, she’ll be able to tell,” he laughs. 

You follow him down the stairs where his mother is sitting on the couch watching a Hallmark movie. She smiles and wishes you a Merry Christmas when she sees you, grabbing presents from under the tree. 

You give her the present “you” got her and she clocks Frankie’s wrapping job right away. 

“I can tell Francisco wrapped this,” she chuckles, unwrapping the gift and opening the box. She tells you she loves it and pulls you in for a big hug. Even though you didn’t actually buy the gift, you can’t help but appreciate the sense of approval. Your mom would’ve criticized whatever you got her, no matter how great the gift was. 

Rosa got Frankie a wallet with his initials engraved in the leather. She got you an apron with your name embroidered on it. Both presents were very thoughtful and as she’s pulling out the photo albums like she promised the other day, Frankie whispers in your ear, “She’s big on getting things personalized.”

The three of you spend the rest of the morning looking at photo albums until it’s time to get ready to go to Ria’s. For once, Frankie can’t wait to jump in the shower, anything to get away from the “embarrassing” pictures his mom is showing you. 

Once the three of you are ready you drive to Ria’s in Frankie’s truck, with the gifts piled in the back seat. He parks on the street and you head inside to the already bustling house. Everyone shouts “Feliz Navidad” as you’re taking off your shoes before joining them at the table. 

The menu for Christmas dinner is empanadillas, tostones, pernil, and arroz con gandules. And for dessert, there’s tembleque, the gingerbread cookies you and the kids decorated, and of course, the lemon bars. 

Christmas Day goes even better than Christmas Eve. All of the presents got for you to give to his family were a hit, but not without a sly comment from Frankie.

“You know… She did have some help,” he says with a smirk and a wink.

That earned him a smack on the arm.

Eventually, the evening is winding down. The kids are sitting under the tree playing with their toys and the adults are scattered around the house. For once, there’s no one paying attention to you two.

“Come with me,” Frankie says, getting off the couch and grabbing his coat.

“Where are we going?” 

“For a walk,” he says. 

You follow him to the front door, slipping on your shoes and coat. The two of you walk side by side on the sidewalk. It’s silent between you two but it’s a comfortable silence. But as you stop underneath a streetlamp, Frankie says, “I have something for you.”

“Frankie! You didn’t have to.”

“No, I really did. And I wanted to. It’s not just a Christmas present but it’s also a thank you for doing this for me… And also an apology for being a shitty neighbor,” he chuckles.

He pulls out a box from his coat pocket and hands it to you. You lift the lid to reveal a gold chain with a pendant, and a lemon stamped into the metal.

“Aw, Frankie… This is so sweet.”

“Look at the back,” he says softly.

You flip over the pendant and engraved on the back is your street name, Magnolia Drive. You look back at Frankie and his face is nervous, as if he’s waiting for your approval. His brow furrowed, his face dimly lit under the streetlamp, and his curls peeking out under his stupid fucking hat. All you can do at that moment is kiss him. He’s shocked for a second but it doesn’t take long for him to melt into your touch and wrap his arms around you. 

He pulls away for a second to ask, “I take it you like it?”

“I love it, Frankie,” you nod, leaning in for a kiss again.

And for a moment you two stay there, holding each other under the streetlamp on Christmas night. 

“I didn’t get you a present,” you admit, resting your head against his chest.

“You already did. You did me a huge favor. It’s a lot to deal with my family.”

“I didn't just deal with them. I liked being with them.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, like you said before, they’re nothing like you.”

“Shut up,” he says, pulling you in for another kiss. 

After a while he says, “We should probably get back.”

You nod and follow him back to Ria’s house where you bid your goodbyes to everyone and head back to Rosa’s for the night. She turns in early and now it’s just you and Frankie alone again. But being alone with him feels different this time. Not only because you just kissed but also because you think… you have feelings for him. Maybe it’s the holiday spirit talking or how vulnerable he was last night, but you have to admit to yourself that Frankie Morales is not only a cute man but a man you misjudged this whole time. 

Once you’re back upstairs to Frankie’s room, you’re sitting side by side on his bed. The silence is back and you’re wondering if you shouldn’t have kissed him earlier. Maybe all you are to him is someone who did him a favor, someone who’s just his neighbor and nothing more. 

“I’m sorry about the kiss. I-”

“You’re sorry?”

“Well yeah, I-”

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long, cariño.”

“How long?”

“Soon after you moved in next door.” 

“Really? I thought you hated me.”

“No, I never did. I just liked pushing your buttons. You’re cute when you’re irritated.”

Your brain is short-circuiting, in disbelief at what he’s saying.

“Even when you were with Heather?”

“Mhm.”

“Is that why you were so jealous of Benny at your birthday party?”

“...Maybe,”

“Mmm, you’re cute when you’re jealous,” you say, leaning in for another kiss.

This time the kiss is needier, and more passionate, like you can’t get enough of each other’s touch, scent, and taste. His hands caress either side of your face as his body leans into you more, coaxing you to lie down on his bed. His mouth leaves yours, trailing along your jawline and down your neck. Your breath hitches as he nips at your skin, immediately licking the bruised skin afterward. He moves down lower, lips moving along your collarbone, until he’s completely kneeling on the floor in front of his bed. His hands hook around the waistband of your pants, sliding them off in one clean motion before going to remove your panties.

“Frankie?” you ask, resting on your elbows and looking down at him.

“Yeah?”

“What about like… your mom?”

“She sleeps like a rock,” he says bluntly, returning to what he was doing before. 

He pulls off your panties and spreads your legs, looking at how wet your cunt is already. 

“Mm, so wet for me, cariño,” he muses, his warm breath tickling your core.

Before you can respond, he licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you breathe out, eliciting a chuckle from him.

He goes back in for another, licking up and down your entrance slow, enough to drive you crazy. And then, he moves to your clit, tongue swirling around it as your back arches up off the bed. He hooks his arms around your thighs, keeping you in place as he gets to work, nose grinding against your clit while his tongue licks your cunt. It doesn’t take long for you to cum, his face taught against your cunt as you do so. 

Once you’re done, he rests his head against your inner thigh, admitting the mess he just made. The lower half of his face is soaked, his patchy facial hair glistening. He returns back to your cunt for one more lap of his tongue, just to taste you one more time before rising from the floor and taking off his clothes. You sit up and take off your sweater and your bra, tossing them on the floor and lying back down. You inch up a little higher on the bed to make room for him as he hovers over you. 

“I have a confession to make,” he says, looking down at you with a sly grin.

“Oh??”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you naked.”

“Uhh-”

“Your bathroom window faces mine.”

“...It does?”

“Mhm. Saw you drying off one day.”

“Oh yeah? And then what?”

He bends down and whispers in your ear, “Jerked off in the shower to the thought of you.”

Your whole body shudders.

“Touch me, Frankie, please,” you whine.

“Are you begging, cariño?”

“Fuck. Yes, I am,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” he whispers in your ear, his hand caressing the outline of your breast before moving to your nipple. His other hand gathers some of your releases and strokes his cock, getting extra hard before sliding inside you, all while he plays with your nipple. You gasp at the sensation, feeling his length stretch your walls; feeling like you’re being split apart.

“You can take it,” he softly commands, bringing his face away from your ear and looking into your eyes again. He studies the expression on your face; the open mouth and the tears in the corners of your eyes, and his lips curve into a smirk. He draws his hips back and thrusts into you again, your cunt feeling completely full. Your soft moans are like music to his ears but he needs to hear more, not necessarily more sounds but a confession from you, too.

“Be honest, cariño. You’ve thought about fucking me too, haven’t you?”

It’s actually insane that this is the same sweet man who gave you the most thoughtful Christmas present earlier tonight. The same man who confessed to jerking off in the shower after seeing you naked.

“Y-yes…” you confess.

“What was that? Didn’t hear you,” he says as his hand to your other breast, taking your nipple in between his fingertips. 

“Fuck, Frankie yes, I’ve thought about it.”

“When?” he presses further, keeping the same pace with his thrusts.

“All the time. Even when you piss me off.”

“Knew it,” he teases, slamming his hips back into you. He rests his elbows on the other side of your head, face to face with you as he fucks you relentlessly.

“Frankie, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Let me feel it, cariño,” he says, studying your face again.

You close your eyes as you cum but that just won’t do for him. He wants you to look directly into the eyes of the man who made a mess of you.

“Look at me,” he softly commands.

You open your eyes, locking with his as you cum around his cock, feeling your walls flutter and pulsate in rhythmic patterns.

“Good girl,” he praises, thrusting into you one final time before coming, too. He paints your insides with his cum before pulling out of you and lying down on the bed. You roll over and situate yourself in the crook of his neck, resting your hand on his chest.

“You’re amazing,” he says, taking the his hat off his head and propping it on the bed post before wrapping his arm around you. There’s his sweet side again.

“I can’t believe you saw me naked,” you tease, still sort of in disbelief.

“Two times now. It’s a Christmas miracle,” he jokes.

You have to agree with him. He feels you twitch against him and he whispers, “Goodnight. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper back, letting sleep consume you.

New Year’s Eve

You’re spending New Year’s Eve at a bar with some of Frankie’s friends from high school. Ever since the night you got together, you’ve been leaning into the girlfriend role more, feeling like it’s not a charade anymore. Frankie doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he welcomes it. This is what the two of you wanted all along, even if both of you didn’t know it.

You’re watching the ball drop in New York City on the TV at the bar with Frankie’s arm snaked around your waist. As the clock strikes midnight, you kiss, feeling like you’re starting the year off right for once.

“Look at you,” you whisper against his lips, “Ending the year in a fake relationship and starting the new year in a real one.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he whispers back. 

Tag list: @wannab-urs @noxturnalpascal @hiddenbabynyc @littlegrungegirlaf @hyzer34 @catchallfangirl @pamasaur @paleidiot @runningmom94 @butiknewyoudlinger @sydneyinacoma @yorksgirl @wilderwizard @hnt-escape @axshadows @fanficlover1414 @lavema @yazsos @tarot-freader @dundienominee @pedropascalfan221 @khindahra @janaispunk @tuquoquebrute @perotovar @clawdee @immarocketman @whoreofabuckethead @grogusmum @idungoofed @fluffygoffpanda @meveispunk @beefrobeefcal @magpiepillsjunior @pr0ximamidnight @elvinaa @survivingandenduring @lincolndjarin @missladym1981 @heavennumber2 @covetyou @anoverwhelmingdin @hellfire-state-of-mind @joels-shitty-puns @stevie75

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction

[scrambledslut]

makes me so eepy

#my daily delusions😌🙏 #favorite part of every day #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x reader #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena

[fettuccin-e]

The First Time

Kinktober Day 15: Size Kink

Tags: Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), fingering (r!recieving), oral (r!giving and recieving), Frankie's monster schlong, yeah he's got a giant dick we all know it (w/c: 1.5K)

A/N: Part of the rapid-fire Kinktober catch up! My absolutely massive size kink really let itself free with this one (get it?? massive?? hehehe) but anyway please enjoy my ramblings about taking Frankie's gigantic schlong. (I have been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings for Kinktober!)

The first time you undress Frankie, really see him for the first time, bare and open to your gaze, you think you’re fucking hallucinating. He’d been so shy when you’d first met, so unassuming next to Pope and Will and Benny. Tugging the brim of his cap to cover his eyes, a timid little smile playing on his face as you flirted with him, not his friends. 

You couldn’t have expected the fucking monster between his thighs the first time you have him naked in your bed, his cock so thick you can barely wrap your hand around him. You don't expect the way you choke on him when you try to blow him, only for you to realize that you hadn't even made it halfway.

He doesn’t fuck you that night, the both of you too high on each other’s bodies and too tipsy from the bottle of wine you’d shared earlier.

“Need time to get you ready, hermosa,” he whispers in your ear, fucking you so hard and deep on his fingers you nearly cry. “Next time baby, next time.”

The first time he fucks you, he doesn’t make it all the way. You think you're ready, despite Frankie’s protests, begging him to fuck you, grinding into his mouth, into his fingers as he works orgasm after orgasm out of your heaving body. Through your blurry eyes, you can see the way his hips thrust gently into the mattress, fucking himself into your sheets as he eats you out, groaning into your pussy as you gush down his face. It’s fucking maddening.

He lines himself up, pressing into you gently, so gently, but God, it’s already too much. Too fucking much. You gasp as the thick head of his cock presses into your entrance, spreading you so much wider than his fingers, wider than you’ve ever been stretched. It fucking stings, and you dig your nails into Frankie’s shoulders as you try to take it for him.

He only sinks in halfway before your body just can’t take it anymore, squeezing him so tight that he can’t possibly move deeper. Tears spring to your eyes at the feeling of it, and you try to apologize, but Frankie only leans down to seal his mouth to yours, kissing the breath out of your lungs.

“Feels so fucking good,” he mutters against your lips, sounding so fucking wrecked, and you throb around him at the sound of it. “Your little pussy is so fucking tight.” 

You feel lightheaded at the destroyed rasp of his voice, and when he moves, you feel lightning rocket up your spine, whining loudly against his lips. He grins, the shy boy from the bar long gone as he thrusts until he’s halfway in again, fucking you on only half his cock as you keen beneath him. You have no idea how he’ll ever fit inside completely, how just half of him fills you up more than anyone else ever has. “Wanna take all of you,” you gasp, “want it all inside, fuck, Frankie, please.”

He shushes you gently, smoothing his hands down your sides. “Mi amor, we need more time to get you ready,” he murmurs softly. “Next time, baby, next time.”

He fucks you just like that, breaking you open with just half of his cock and fisting the base in a large, warm palm until you squeeze around him with your orgasm. When you beg him to cum inside you, he groans, pumping you full, gripping tight to your thighs. You promise yourself that next time you'll take all of him.

The first time you take Frankie, really, truly take him, you think that he’s more affected than you are.

You’re so wet, dripping down your thighs from Frankie’s endless preparation, his lips shiny with your slick as he leans down to kiss you slowly, deliberately. You find that you don’t mind the taste of yourself.

He’s been fucking you on his thick fingers for what seems like hours, spreading you so wide, wide enough that you thought you’d break.

You don’t know how many times he’s made you cum, how many times he’s told you that it’ll make you looser, get you ready. You think he just likes watching you fall apart, his eyes blown wide as you tremble against the sheets. 

When he finally, finally notches the thick tip of his cock against your entrance, pushing forward slowly, you try to brace yourself for pain. It’s so much, he’s so much, and it should hurt, fuck, you should feel like you’re being ripped apart. 

But your mind is foggy with desperation, your need to finally fit him inside, that you can barely feel the pain at all. You can only gasp for air as his cock stretches you wide, pressing in so deep it’s like you can feel it in your lungs. And he just slides in, easy as that, as if it was easy all along.

And as much as you moan and gasp, your fingers clutching into the skin of his back, it is nothing compared to the way Frankie fucking whines at the feeling of it, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he stills his hips, pressed in as deep as he can get.

“Fuck me, please, oh my God, Frankie,” you gasp, grinding your hips against his on pure instinct, desperate to get him in deeper, somehow. But his hands tighten on you, gripping so hard you think he’ll leave bruises.

“Stop,” he says, deep and raspy and fucking primal. “Stop fucking moving, shit, ‘m trying not to fucking cum.” He sounds goddamn sinful, and your pussy throbs at the sheer idea of him filling you up just from finally fitting inside you. You let him breathe through it, raking your nails gently up his back. He shivers at your touch.

You suck air in through your teeth when he pulls out, just barely, only to fuck back in. He does it again, and again, and again, thrusting so deep into you that his cock fucking drags into your sweet spot, not even trying. You’ve never felt so fucking full before.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so goddamn tight, don’t even know how I can fuckin’ fit,” he mutters, pulling your thighs tighter around his hips and pulling you down onto his thick cock with every thrust. “This little cunt is just sucking me in, ‘s like she can’t get enough.”

“God, yes, Frankie please,” you choke out between labored breaths, your vision blurring at the edges. All you can fucking feel, hear, smell is Frankie above you, warm and towering over you, filling you up so perfect.

“So goddamn pretty wrapped around my cock,” he growls, pounding into you hard enough that tears start to pour down your cheeks. “My greedy baby, am I big enough for you?”

“Fuck! Yes, it’s so- it’s so fuckin’ big, Frankie, I can feel it in my fucking stomach.” You’re slurring your words, your brain turned to mush as Frankie breaks you apart so viciously. He reaches between you to rub quick circles into your clit with a calloused thumb, and your body locks up, your back arching so far it presses your tits into Frankie’s strong chest.

“That’s right, honey, just fuckin’ feel it. Nobody else can fill you up like I can, right?” he snarls, and you can only nod frantically, choked moans punched from your throat every time he thrusts inside you. “Cum, sweetheart. Show me how much you love my big cock.”

And you have no other choice but to fucking scream, pulsing violently around him as you cum. You’re fucking lost in it, broken apart in the best way possible, and Frankie groans, stilling inside of your as he fills you up with cum. It’s pure bliss, a goddamn revelation, and you don’t think it’s ever going to fucking stop. He smothers your cries with a kiss, licking into your mouth and soothing you like a wild animal as you both ride out the aftershocks. 

When you finally feel yourself start to breathe normally again, to find it in yourself to blink blearily up at him, smiling softly when you see him already staring down at you. As he pulls out of you, you feel the emptiness immediately, whining as he shushes you gently. “I know, honey, I know,” he murmurs, falling beside you and pulling you into him. “You did so good for me.”

“Damn right I did,” you murmur, sleep already weighing down your eyelids. “Who else is going to take that monster dick of yours?”

He laughs, loud and gruff in the most perfectly Frankie-way you could possibly imagine. “Don’t act like you didn’t fucking love it, hermosa.”

And, well, you don’t really have arguments for that.

#oh frankie #sweet husband with a big heart and even bigger schlong #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #frankie x reader #frankie catfish morales #catfish x reader #triple frontier x you #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic

[ilovepedro]

just married | frankie morales x f!reader

Main masterlist

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2k

Summary: You and Frankie just tied the knot. Half way through the reception, your insatiable husband whisks you away for some much needed privacy.

Warnings: fluff, oral (f receiving), fingering, exhibitionism (sex in a private bathroom), unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), creampie, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: happy frankie friday! this is based off this post, i could not for the life of me shake this from my head. literally wrote this in an hour, i’m telling y’all i’m actually going insane. the brain rot is actually concerning. FRANKIE NATION RISE! 🫡 anyway, i hope y’all enjoy! 🫶🏼 i loveeee me some frankie 🫠 not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @saradika

“Come on, hermosa,” Frankie rasps in your ear, moving his hands from your hips and grabbing your hand, a small smirk playing on his lips. Music booms from the DJ’s speakers, the dance floor lively and vibrant.

“Where are we going, baby?” You ask, your gown flowing freely as your new husband swiftly maneuvers you through the crowd. “You’ll see,” he shouts over the thrumming music. Your body buzzing with excitement and a smile, so big it hurts, adorns your face.

Leading you out into the hall and racing up the stairs, giggling like a couple of school children. Frankie drags you to the bathroom at the end of the hall, flinging the door open and guiding you inside.

He grips your hips and crashes his lips onto yours, swallowing your dissipating giggles as he presses you up against the door and locks it. You whimper softly as his hands begin to roam your body.

His hands roam your backside, making his way down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “Frankie!” You squeal, breathlessly, laughter bubbling over your lips as you pull back for a bit of air.

A toothy grin breaks out into his face. “I’ve missed you, hermosa,” he pants, the both of you breathless from running and desperately kissing each other.

“I’ve missed you too, baby.” Not having had a moment to yourselves this whole day, you two bask in this brief moment of privacy.

He brings you in for another insatiable kiss. Your hands tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, making him groan into you. Snaking his hands down your waist, he cups your mound in one hand. You moan into him as your brows scrunch in pleasure, grinding against his hand.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day, baby,” he groans, guiding you to the sink, pressing your backside up against it as he peppers kisses to the column of your throat. “You look so fucking gorgeous, baby, this goddamn dress is driving me crazy,” he whispers, nipping your neck. 

“You’re driving me crazy, Frankie,” you gasp. “Look so fucking sexy in that tux, baby.” He smiles into your skin, working his way back up to draw you in for another kiss. You moan into his mouth as he slips his tongue inside, arousal pooling in your panties and sticking to your sex. Swallowing every moan that pours into his mouth, he pulls back, your lipgloss staining his lips. 

Crouching to his knees, he bunches your gown up over his head and moans at the sight of your lacy panties paired with your garter. 

“Fuck, baby. So fucking wet for me all fucking the time,” he whispers huskily as his large, warm hands run along your thighs. He slides your garter down your leg, tucking it into his back pocket. 

Propping you up onto the sink, he spreads your legs and presses a kiss to your sex. You moan at the feeling, aching for more. One of his thick fingers prods at your entrance, parting your lips and allowing your husband a view of your glistening pussy.

“Please, Frankie,” you plead breathlessly, tossing your head back. 

“Yeah? My pretty little wife wants me to eat her pussy? Huh, mi esposa?” You moan, eagerly nodding as you clench around nothing. Frankie doesn’t miss the way your thighs squeeze together.

“What my wife wants, my wife gets.”

Without warning, Frankie dives in and licks broad stripes up your folds, gasping as you bite back a moan with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, attempting to be quiet. 

“No no, baby. I wanna hear you. They can’t even hear us with the music, it’s just us, baby - just me and you,” he says before diving back in and licking through your folds, his strong nose nudging your clit and your eyes flying open.

“Oh fuck, Frankie!” You moan loudly, eyes squeezed shut as you toss your head back, caution blown to the wind. You snake a hand into Frankie’s curls, tugging at them and eliciting a groan from your husband. The vibrations against your cunt send a new wave of arousal seeping from you, Frankie lapping up every drop as he drowns in your slick.

His tongue prods your entrance, fucking into you. He groans at the way you clench around him, chest rumbling in satisfaction. 

It’s sloppy, and hungry the way he laves at your weeping cunt. His tongue circles your clit relentlessly, your cries filling the air. His lips wrap around your swollen bud as his grip on your thighs tightens. Your hips involuntarily buck up into his face. He snakes his left hand up to your stomach, ring-adorned hand pushing you down and holding you in place. 

“So f-fucking good, F-Frankie, oh my god,” you keen above him, legs wrapping around his back as you try to brace yourself for your impending orgasm. His relentless pace creates a cloud of stars in your eyes. 

“I’m close, Frankie! So close, don’t stop! Please don’t stop, baby,” you yelp, tears of pleasure stinging the corners of your eyes as the coil in your belly tightens.

A sudden intrusion pulls a sharp gasp from you. Two of his thick, long fingers crook into that spongy spot with every stroke as he sucks on your clit. 

His fingers, his mouth, the ring on the hand which pins you down overwhelms you - he’s all-consuming. 

Your vision flashes hot white as the coil in your belly snaps, cumming all over your husband’s face and his fingers. Frankie laps at your juices as you grind your cunt into his face, thighs trembling while riding out your high. He groans as he slurps you up like the sweetest nectar, not wasting a single drop. Your whines fill the air along with a squelching sound as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. 

He pulls back and rises to his feet, his patchy beard glistening with your slick. Slamming his lips onto yours, the two of you moan into each other. The taste of yourself on his tongue makes your head spin.

Frankie ruts his hips into yours, his clothed cock brushing against your exposed cunt and a loud cry pouring from your lips at the sensitivity. Wrapping your arms around his neck to draw him closer, you buck your hips against his, seeking more stimulation.

“Lean back for me, baby.” he rasps as he pulls back, gently pushing you back against the mirror. He makes quick work unbuckling his belt and shoving his pants to his ankles. You suck your bottom lip in between your teeth, mouth watering at the sight of your husband’s angry, leaking cock. Unable to resist, you palm him in your hands, smearing the dribbles of precum along his throbbing length. Frankie stifles a moan, moving your hand away and lines up his cock at your dripping hole.

Swirling small circles around your entrance, gathering the new wave slick that pours from your cunt on his length.

“Frankieeee,” you keen. “No teasing, please, amor,” you huff, on the verge of tears as your desperation grows.

“I got you, amor, don’t worry,” he whispers in your ear. He slides in slowly, but smoothly in one go, your slippery folds allowing him easy access. Both of you moan in tandem, Frankie’s brows pinched together and your lips parted.

You’re so full, relishing in the dull sting as he stuffs your wet heat to the brim. “Move, baby. Please move, mi amor,” you plead, breathless and desperate, seeking some relief.

“Shh shh, it’s okay, baby. I’m gonna take care of you, I always will,”  He says, voice hushed and husky, placing a kiss to your forehead. 

You know his words run deeper than just the matter at hand, having promised to love you eternally just hours ago.

He slowly drags out of you ever so slightly before snapping his hips into yours, his tip punching your g-spot. His hands rest on your waist as he picks up his pace. The room sounds pornographic - filled with the sounds of your squelching pussy, skin-on-skin, moans, and pants.

“I’m the lu-luckiest man ever. Got the prettiest girl ever to m-marry me. Knew you’d make a beautiful bride, hermosa. Most beautiful f-fuckin’ bride in the world, my pretty little wife. Get to, shit, get to love you and fuck this tight little pussy every goddamn day for the rest of our lives. Fuck,” he rambles, hips canting into yours.

Clenching around him at his words, more slick drips from your weeping cunt and onto the counter. An endless string of moans tumble from you and into the air.

“S-so fucking good to m-me, baby. So l-lucky to be your wife,” you keen, pressing your forehead against his. He hungrily captures your lips in a ferocious kiss, teeth clashing together as neither of you care how messy you two will look after.

“My wife. You’re mine, baby, you’re mine forever,” he moans as his tip kisses your cervix. Your walls flutter around him, your second orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Come on, baby, come on, baby. Let go, hermosa. I know you’re close. Let me feel you, I got you, baby,” he babbles almost incoherently. You wail as your orgasm washes over you, convulsing under his grasp, twitching uncontrollably as slick endlessly streams from your cunt. “There we go, baby. Good girl. So fucking good, hermosa. Always feel so fucking good,” Frankie groans against your lips, his thrust growing sloppy as your slippery cunt sucks him in.

“Love you so much, Frankie,” you gasp. “Love you too, hermosa,” he grunts. You can feel him throb inside of you.

“Cum, Frankie. Fill me up, please, baby,” you beg, still riding out the high of your climax.

“Yeah baby? Want my cum? Want me to stuff you full and walk around our wedding with my cum dripping out of your tight little pussy?" 

A high-pitched moan escaping your lips, you squeeze tightly around him. “Yes, Frankie! Wanna feel it dripping down my legs under my dress,” you squeal, overstimulation starting to sink in.

"My dirty fucking girl,” he rasps, punctuating his words with every thrust as he shoots warm ropes of cum into your cunt, coating your walls with his seed. A guttural groan rumbles from deep within his chest. Slowing his pace, you whimper as he fucks his cum into your used hole.

He rests his clammy forehead against yours, breath fanning each other's faces. Post-coital bliss settling amongst you two, the faint humming of the music from the reception rings in the air.

“Do you think they’ve noticed we’re gone?” You ask, panting. A deep chuckle rattles his chest, making you laugh. “I’m pretty sure they have, hermosa.” You pull him in by his tie, kissing him languidly. He pulls back and presses a playful tap to your thigh.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go before the guys start talking shit,” he says, helping you to your feet, and wiping his spend from your mound and in between your legs. He settles your gown into place as you fix your makeup in the mirror. He fixes his hair while you adjust his suit and tie back into place. You beam as you lock eyes with his, love shimmering in the corners of them. He entwines his fingers with yours as he leads you out the door and back downstairs to the reception.

It seems nobody has noticed you two were gone, or just don’t question your absence, as you two mingle your way back into the crowd.

“Hey! Where the hell were you two?! It’s time for the bouquet toss!" You best friend, and maid-of-honor, screeches.

"And the garter toss!” Santiago, the best man, chimes in. They drag you both to the dance floor. Women crowd the dance floor as you toss your bouquet over your shoulder, your best friend catching it and eyeing her partner. 

Music blares as Frankie leads you to a chair in the middle of the dance floor. He teasingly lifts your dress to remove your garter, to be met with nothing. Your eyes bug out of your head, heat coursing through your veins.

“Where’s my garter?” You ask him. Santiago appears behind Frankie, taking something out of his back pocket and holding it out to Frankie. “Here it is!”

Laughter erupts amongst your guests as you hide your face in your hands, an embarrassed smile plastered on Frankie’s lips, meekly waving to the crowd. He pries your hands from your face, playfully rolling his eyes as he brushes off the embarrassment while helping you to your feet. Cheering and whooping fills the hall as you smile apologetically to the crowd as they roar, Frankie cupping your face and pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

Frankie is rotting my brain today obvi. this one's for all my Frankie girlies out there, shout out to y’all 🩷

thank you for reading! 🫶🏼

tag list: @undrthelights @gracieheartspedro @jenispunk @amanitacowboy @bastardmandennis @nostalxgic @tinygarbage @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @harriedandharassed

#happy frankie friday #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales