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icanbeyourjedi-writes · 9 months

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It Was Just A Dream... Chapter Two

Summary: Frankie is all moved in, or is he? A cute game of cat and mouse has an ending you wouldn’t expect, Frankie’s mood swings end with an outcome neither of them expected. Words: 5,000+ Rating: 18+ Adult Themes Warnings/Triggers: Addiction, Falling for Your Brothers Friend, Language, OFC is somewhat described as someone with longer hair, but no race/eye color/body type

A/N: I don’t know much about addiction, just the things that I googled and seen portrayed on TV. This is completely an AU. I had the beginning of this story pop in my head randomly and thought it sounded fun to explore. Sure we all love Frankie was that sweet puppy dog…but what if he had his own inner demons he had to battle with. The ‘coke charge’ was mentioned in TF and I kinda wanted to explore that side of him.

**This is written asa first person, and it's my first time writing in first person, so please be gentle with me. I also include Frankie's POV which will be Bold and Italics

It took two days, four, well three and a half strong men moved all of Frankie’s stuff. My house might be small, but the best part. Despite only having two bedrooms, the bedrooms are huge. The guest room is slightly smaller than my master and there isn’t an attached bathroom but still plenty is space for his stuff. I kept the small desk there, well honestly that was the only thing I had there. Five years of living here and my guest room was still empty. Mostly why I think Benny volunteered my space, I was also someone he knew. All of Frankie’s belongings were still in taped boxes. We didn’t know how long Benny was going to be gone, it made sense to bring more than just a duffle bag of stuff.

It's been two weeks since he had moved in, his clothes still in boxes, extra bedding still in boxes. He’s been wearing the same gray sweatpants and black shirt since he got here. Now don’t get me wrong, I love a man in specifically gray ones as much as the next girl, but he hasn’t changed. I don’t even know if he has showered. Seeing him all mopey is making me mad and slightly frustrated. I know he would much rather be back at what has been his home for years, but he needs help and I want to help. I just have no idea what I am doing. I’m feeling guilty making him move, and I know I shouldn’t.

Thanks to having no social life I had a lot of PTO built up, I’ve been off these two weeks trying to help him feel at home. It’s been mostly awkward living with him when it shouldn’t. Awkward grunts, one word answers, he eats alone despite my best efforts. Yesterday he came out of his room and talked to me, it was about a cricket outside his window that just wouldn’t shut up. It was the first time he seemed to be normal? Is that even the right word, what is normal?

It’s late afternoon, and he had been in his room the entire day. Walking past his room and I see him sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the boxes sitting along the wall picking at his fingernails. He has had mood swings that have him going from happy to sad in seconds. I thought about walking past him again, keep going on with my day. But I couldn’t stand seeing the boxes still stacked. It felt like he was ready to move as soon as Benny stepped foot on American soil again, and I was terrified of seeing him live like he didn’t belong here. I stop and gently tap on the open door, “hey…you want some help with those?”

He doesn’t look up at me, instead he just continues to stare at the box, “there’s just so much, I don’t know where to start” he takes a deep breath hanging his head

I walk into his room, he is still sitting on the bed. I grab the top box labeled ‘shirts’ and then turn back towards him. I tap his foot with mine, motioning with my head he needs to move. He stands up and watches as I drop the box on the bed and start grabbing a few shirts and put them in one of the many empty drawers. I hear him sigh with disapproval and I look at him “What?” I groan in frustration

“They need to be folded neatly, and by color. As well as style, but it’s fine…it’s fine. I’ll just do it later” he rubs the back of his neck

Call it being a perfectionist, I call it someone who was trained that everything always had to have order. Everything needed to have crisp lines, be organized. Having its rightful spot, years of military training would do this to a person and I was all too aware that it wasn’t fine.

I pull the shirts back out of the drawer, hoping he doesn’t see my eye roll and I set them back in the box. I didn’t expect this to be easy, but I also didn’t expect I was going to have to be his mother and not a friend. I didn’t think I was going to have to tell Frankie to eat, to take a shower. All the things I thought he already knew, was he like this in rehab? “Then refold the shirts and put them in the drawer” shit was that too aggressive? “I think I might make you feel more at home if you do” I put a hand on his shoulder gently rubbing it.

I watch as he takes a shirt out, folds it meticulously. The edges of the shirt are perfect, he sets it on the bed, his hand running over the shirt, taking out any wrinkles. Every shirt has an order, by color, type, it is memorizing watching him as he moves. Folding every time with such perfection. I have to shake my head and snap out of it, I grab another box and open it to find it stuffed with boxers. He is completely focused on his shirts as I work to put the boxer briefs in a drawer hoping the fold in half method works for him.

I pull out black pair after black pair. There was an occasional gray mixed in. After seeing him in those gray sweatpants for the past two weeks my mind can’t help but imagine him in these and how great they would make his thighs look, his…’stop. Don’t think about that. He’s now your roommate you can’t do that’ all those thots fall when I pull out a baby blue pair with little cat heads wearing headsets. Different types of helicopters fill the empty space between the cat faces. I can’t but giggle holding them up, Frankie stops what he is doing and looks up, “care to explain these” holding the boxers in the air and shake them, I arch an eyebrow at him smiling

He reaches across and snatches them from my hands “nope…” he paused for a moment fold the boxers in half “you got them” he places them on the bottom of the drawer under the pile of black ones

“I did?” I truly don’t remember. One would think someone would remember getting boxers that looked like that

“Yeah, Christmas a few years ago” he returns his focus to the shirts in the box

”Oh my God, you’re right. I did” I laugh

”You said, that I was impossible to shop for, and you wanted something unique to remember you when I was away”

Frankie is the most impossible person to shop for. He always would say he didn’t need anything, he said to not waste money on a guy like him. He wasn’t worth it. I watch Frankie roll his eyes as I tell him again that he is impossible to shop for. A hint of a smile begins to appear and I think that we might have a breakthrough. I finished the box I was working on, broke it down and leaned it against the wall. Frankie pulls out his last shirt and folds it, setting it on the top of a pile. Grabbing the small stack he turns and starts to put them in the top drawer. I grab the box and start to break it down when I see a film strip inside. I reach in and grab the photos.

I stare at them, a clean shaven, wide-eyed twenty something Francisco Morales. I had a photo from this shoot, but I never saw these two. It was before his first deployment and the guys went and did some ‘glamor shots’ as a gag gift. Frankie’s in a purple shirt and leather jacket. His brown hair falling perfectly into place. The first photo his hands are in his back pockets. Showing off his impressive chest and broad shoulders, his smile that makes one’s heart beat a little faster and an instant panty dropper. The other, I swear, he could have been a model. His arms crossed over his chest. His biceps bursting the seams of his jacket, his lips pursed together in a brooding expression. Holy shit, he’s hot…“What do we have here?”

Frankie turns and looks at me, it takes a moment for him to realize what I’m holding in my hand. “Give those here” he reaches for them and I quickly pull them away

”Nope…” I laugh and hold them up, inspecting the photos a bit more

”Lex” he says, a bit more authoritative, it’s deep and it’s sexy. He takes a step towards me, I take a couple small steps towards his open door. I try to keep a distance between us

I have a small idea, “you want them?” I ask slowly moving backward closer to the door, he starts to close the distance nodding his head yes, “then you’ll just have to come and get them” I smile and turn to run through the door.

He bolts out of the room following me, I forget how fast he is and how incredibly silent he can be. He’s on my heels in an instant and I run a circle around the couch. Heading past him and into the kitchen, stopping at one end of the small island. He’s facing me on the other side “Lex…” he says. I smile, laugh and run past his outstretched arm.

“Gotta be quicker than that Morales” I ran around the house again, waiting for him to turn and find me again. I lose my breath as I’m back in his room, the bed as a barrier between us. I look at the photos and see him strut back into his room. I clearly didn’t think this through completely as I find myself trapped on the one side of the bed. Frankie blocking the only exit. He starts to walk around the bed, he’s standing at the end while I move further up closer to the headboard. I’m waiting for him, I have my escape planned. He fakes a step to the left towards me and I step up onto his bed. The piles of shirts start to fall when I bring my other foot up. He reaches across the bed, “Bad move, Miller” he snarls and wraps a hand around my ankle pulling it out and dropping me to the bed.

I hold the photos above my head, he pulls me closer. Placing his thigh is between my legs and crawling the bed until he’s hovering over my body. We’re both laughing and I struggle to keep the photos out of his reach. His large hand captures both of my wrists and pins them to the bed. I squirm below him, trying to break free. “Stop moving” he grunts, his other hand lands on my hip. Holding me tightly in place, my shirt slightly raised and his thumb slowly rubbing against my bare skin. Our laughter slowly turns into heavy breathing.

His face is so close, I can feel his warm breath. His eyes are so full of life now, I see the small parts of the old Frankie. The Frankie that became a friend, family, a crush. My heart is pounding and I am pretty positive Frankie can hear it, his hand is setting my skin on fire and I have no idea what is happening. But I want to kiss him, I want him to kiss me, I want to feel his lips on mine. “Frankie…” I whisper

“Hmmm” he leans closer to me, his nose brushing along mine

I don’t know what I was going to say, I didn’t imagine us ending up like this. I clearly didn’t think this through and I have no idea what to do. Time seems to move slow, and I don’t know how long we stay like this. His eyes focused on mine, I feel like he is looking into my soul. Does he want me to kiss him? Should I kiss him? His hand still wrapped around my wrists, the other still holding my hip.

“KISS HIM ALREADY” my inner voice yells. I finally make a move, I close the short distance between, my lips just about to touch his when my phone rings in my back pocket. His hand releases my wrists and he sits up on the bed. I close my eyes, wishing I didn’t take so long to make the move. I reach behind me, pulling out my phone. It was work, I smiled and mouth a sorry to him, sliding the answer button and bringing the phone to my ear. “Hello” I stand and walk out of his room

“Why didn’t I kiss her? She was right there…would she even want me to kiss her?” He thinks to himself, running his fingers through his hair

He looks at himself in the mirror. The same sweatpants he’s been wearing for well over a week, he looked like a hot mess. At least the shirt was clean, or he thought his shirt was clean. He sees the unruly hair, the 5 o’clock shadow had turned into a fully grown beard. “Because you're a pathetic loser, look at you. She’d never want you to kiss her” that negative voice inside him says. Frankie shakes his head, hands covering his face. He rubs his eyes and tries to remember Will telling him wasn’t. But the thing is, Will was never a very good liar and the voice becomes louder and louder.

“Fishie…hey Fish” her voice brings him back. He looks up at her “hey, you ok?

“yeah…yeah” he says, but her face tells him she doesn’t believe him.

“uhm, ok. I gotta run to work for a bit. I’m not sure when I’ll be home but there’s money on the table. Order some take out”

He nods, giving her his best smile and watches as she walks away. He hears the door open and close. Standing up he peeks his head out the door, he doesn’t hear her. He just needs to take the edge off. He knows he will feel a lot better when he can’t feel anything again. He knows he doesn’t have much left, but enough to last him at least today. He’ll worry about tomorrow-tomorrow. Thank God he hid the green can well enough that Alex didn’t find it. Just one hit, that’s all he needs.

“Take a shower, you’ll feel better after a shower. You’re better than this” he can hear Will’s voice.

It didn’t.

“Food, get some food. Don’t do this Cat” the voice says

My phone dances on my desk as I finish some paperwork. I had plenty of PTO built up, but the doctor's office had an influx of new patients and I was one of the few who knew how to enter all the data and get them set up. It wasn’t where I pictured myself when I graduated college with a degree in film. But it’s a good paying job, and it kept me close to home.

Fishie 🐟: u like Pad Thai 🍲

Me: Not really, and I don’t think that’s Pad Thai haha

Fishie 🐟: oh ok what u want?

I type back a response, telling him to order what he wants. The money on the table was for him to do what he wanted. I might not like Pad Thai, but that shouldn’t stop him from ordering it. I finish typing a few things and grab my phone. I walked over to some of my coworkers who were getting ready to head out as well. I lean against Laura’s desk. She was chatting with a few of the nurses, I watched my phone as the little bubble with dots popped up, then disappeared, appeared again, and disappeared again. I sigh, my head drops. His mood swings are driving me insane.

Me: I like noodles, with teriyaki sauce if that counts as Pad Thai

“What’s up Buttercup” Laura smiles cheerfully

”Have you ever had to help a friend with an addiction?” I look up, the mouths all open “seriously. A friend, not me”

“What kind of addiction?” Laura asks, she was my go-to at work. Her upbeat attitude always had the answers

“Narcotics…” I reply

Is this friend living with you?” a nurse asks

I tell them how the friend just got out of rehab, I leave out the part that the friend is a he, and the he is Frankie. I tell them how rehab said something about how they shouldn’t be left alone, doctors orders they need to live with someone in case of a relapse. “Sometimes I feel like I see the person I became friends with, then sometimes hhhh-they are a completely different person. Someone I don’t even know and it’s only been two weeks”

“Just keep being there for them, don’t push too hard. But they need to know you are there for him. I mean them, no matter what it is, they can trust you” she puts a hand on top of mine

“You can’t give up on them. No matter how hard they try to push you away, you push back. They’ll have their moments but like Laura said, you just need to be there. Letting them know you won’t give up on them”

“Thanks,” I take a deep breath and stare at my phone, he still hasn’t responded “I just wish I knew what he needed, he doesn’t talk”

“Give it time, he will open up when he’s ready”

'Did she just say he? How does she know' I think

I walk into the house, kicking off my shoes and dropping my purse off on the little side table. I hear grunting from down the hall. ‘Oh please don’t tell me he has a girl here’ I think to myself moving towards his room. “Frankie?”

T-Shirts he had just folded and pants were thrown into the hall. I move towards the open door dodging pants being thrown out as I get close, I look into his room and it looks like a tornado hit. The mattress shoved against the wall, drawers empty and pulled from the dresser, clothes thrown around the room. I see Frankie bent over in his closet he had on a new pair of dark green sweats on, he’s shirtless. Little water droplets still cling to his hair and a towel draped over the back of a chair.

“Where the fuck is it?!” he shouts as I watch him throw more things around.

“Where is what?” I ask, and instantly regret it

He turned quickly looking at me, his eyes filled with rage and nostrils flaring. I’ve never seen this look before, and he slowly starts to walk towards me. There’s an evil glint to his eye and it scares me.

“Where the fuck did you put it Alexandra?” He snarls

“If you told me what you are looking for…” I tried to not raise my voice, trying to keep calm. He needs me to remain calm.

“YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I’M LOOKING FOR! DON’T PLAY STUPID”

The yelling intensifies and I know the neighbors can hear us, stay calm. Don’t make things worse.

What happened to the Frankie from earlier?

“I need you to calm down, Frankie. Please. Just tell me what you're looking for and I can help” I wanna put my hand on his shoulder, ground him. Let him know I’m here, but he’s breathing heavy, his lip curls up in an evil grin.

“I know you have it!” he says in an oddly calm manner, “JUST GIVE IT TO ME!!!” He yells

He takes a step closer, he raises his fist. I flinch as the closed hand comes flying towards me and it connects with the wall inches from my head. “Give it to me now Alex” he growls

“What in the hell is your problem!?” I yell shoving his chest back

“You! Benny! This stupid fucking place. I don’t want to be here!” His eyes begin to water and a tear streams down his cheek, he takes a couple steps back

“Fine, then fucking leave! No one is forcing you to be here Francisco” I try to hold back by own tears “I am sick and tired of seeing you being all mopey and shit. You don’t want to be here, FINE”

Shit…I am pretty sure I just over stepped. I go to open my mouth to apologize and there is a hard knock at the door followed by a “Police”

“You called the Police?” He shouts

“I’ve been standing in front of you the entire time arguing with you. When would I have had time to call the police?” I say, I back up and move towards the front door. The knocks become more aggressive “I’m coming!”

I unlock the door and see three officers standing there. They all have a concerned look on their faces

”Good evening ma’am. We got a call about some yelling and wanted to make sure everything was ok” the taller officer said

”Everything is fine. It’s great. Just swell” my words are dripped with sarcasm

“Do you mind stepping outside to talk to my partner Officer James” he looks over my shoulder and sees Frankie, “hey there sir. Mind coming over here for a moment?”

He is sitting on the porch as she stands by the car. He fucked up, she’s given up on him. He’s given up on himself.

“What’s your name?” The youngest officer asks him

Frankie reads the name printed on his chest. T. Baker. “Frank, my name is Frank and everything is fine Officer Baker”

Baker keeps asking bin questions. What happened, did she hit him. Did he hit her? How long has he been living here? What was their relationship? Frankie becoming more annoyed with each question. What did it matter? He fucked things up and he needed a hit more then ever. He was looking for his coke, she found him on a downward spiral but there was no way he was going to tell him that. Suddenly the questions take a turn, when Officer Baker notices a tattoo on his chest.

“What branch?”

“Excuse me” Frankie responds confused

“Your tattoo?”

“Oh yeah, Army. Special Ops, I was a pilot”

He has a tattoo on the left side of his chest, a helicopter flying. A sun and clouds shaded in the background. The helicopter with incredible detail, one of the ones he first learned how to fly. A few men repelling from the bird. Just below a group of trees

“Thank you for your service sir. Wait here, I have some stuff for you” Baker nods his head and walks to the patrol car

He watches him shuffle down the stairs, he sees Alex and for a moment they lock eyes. His heart nearly stops as he sees the tears in her eyes that she quickly wipes away. He caused this pain and for what, a stupid little hit that was nearly enough to take away the pain. He ruined everything. The afternoon was so great, and now she wants him out. Officer Baker was walking back with a stack of papers in his hand.

“For the hundredth time, he didn’t hurt me. He would never do that” I groaned. I have said the same thing over and over. Are they trying to get a different answer? Despite Frankie punching a hole in the wall, he would never lay a hand on me.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes taking in a deep breath. When I open my eyes, I see Frankie. His eyes locked onto mine. The hurt, the pain, he looks lost. The officer hands him a stack of papers. His hands shaking as he takes them, he turns his head down and he walks into the house.

“Ms. Miller, if you need anything else please give us a call” the officer sees his small notebook and sticks it in his chest pocket. “Have a good night” he walks past me and heads to his car.

I head to the steps of my front porch watching the officer who had spoken to Frankie walk down. He stops me before I walk past him, “he’ll be ok. Just give it time. I’ve been there. He’s got a good girlfriend, just be patient with him”

I stop in my tracks, my jaw drops. What the hell did Frankie tell him? “Wait…what?” I ask. But it was too late, the officer already getting back into his car. I shake my head and walk into the house locking the door behind me.

It’s getting late and I’m hungry. I walk past the hallway that leads to the bedrooms and notice Frankie bent over picking up the clothes that had been thrown into the hallway. I should say something, I should apologize to him. I get distracted, watching the muscles in his back strain with every movement. ‘Focus Alex’. What is wrong with me, this man just put me through a roller coaster of emotions. I can’t get distracted by something as stupid as watching him work.

I shake my head and walk towards the kitchen. I hope to find some leftover takeout since I know the fridge is empty. Instead I find the $20 left on the table in the same exact place I left it. I can’t leave, that would require me letting Frankie know, and it might be petty but I really don’t want to talk to him right now, maybe even for the rest of the night. I open the freezer and pray that the ice cream is still there. I open the door and find the pint of cookie dough ice cream still sitting there. I do a little happy dance and grab a spoon. I make my way to the living room and flop down on the sofa, turning on the TV and pop the top off digging in.

“I fucked up…” he says to himself folding the shirts, putting them back in the dresser. He pushes the mattress back onto the frame and sits on the edge of his bed. He looks up and sees the hole he had punched into the wall. An image of Alex’s face floods his memory. He fucked up so bad that she didn’t even say two words to him when she came back into the house. He left the pamphlets on the coffee table, she’s going to find them. He knows it.

The papers were for local rehabs where VA’s held sobriety classes. They had everything from AA to NA to Gambling. He didn’t want to go to rehab again, he felt more alone then he ever had there. That’s where he met George, well Steve really. He made it though those 30 days thanks to him smuggling in just enough coke to help them both function like normal adults. Nicole, well she helped in other ways. One keeping his secret and she helped him take his mind off things when he was able to bury himself in her. She wasn’t who he wanted, but she was there. She was a quick fuck. It didn’t mean anything, and he felt bad when he told her it wasn’t going to last when he left. His mind racing with all these thoughts, he’ll finish cleaning later. He’ll patch the hole tomorrow. Right now he has something bigger to take care of. He needs to repair this whatever-ship he had with Alex. He needs her.

He plops on the couch next to her, she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even look at him, she focused on the ice cream in her hand and the moving pictures on the TV

”Ice cream for dinner?” He asks ‘great icebreaker Morales, you idiot’ his inner demon mocks him

“Yeah, the perk of being an adult. No one can tell me what to eat Franklin” she stuffs another spoon into her mouth, “that and someone didn’t buy dinner like I told them too”

‘She called me Franklin…maybe she’s not that mad’ he reads her face, it’s softened…a hint of a smile. Then she said that last part, and it changes to instant regret. She turns to look at him “shit. I’m so sorry that was-“

“No…no I deserved that” he interrupts her, “can I have a bite?”

She eyes him, something between a grin and a smirk on her face. She sticks the spoon into the ice cream and scoops out a tiny pile, moving the spoon to his open mouth.

“I’m sorry Lex he says mouth full of ice cream

He looks at the ground, he’s picking at his nails. I can see the inner struggle he’s having and it breaks my heart, I have no idea how to help. I watch as his mind tries to find the words he wants to say. I go to open my mouth, but he stops me “I am really sorry” he says again

“What happened today?” I ask him setting the ice cream on the table and turning to face him

“I was looking for…fuck…I was looking for some coke. I thought I had some left. I am so sorry. I didn’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. Rehab didn’t do shit” he’s talking fast and I’m trying to keep up.

He tells me about George, how they were doing just enough to get by. Nicole helped them not get caught. He doesn’t know how George was able to get the contraband in, but he did. They exchanged information, and he was helping Frankie. He wasn’t doing as much as he used to, which I guess is good, he thought he had some left. A small tin can was what he was looking for, he was terrified that I found it when we were unpacking.

“How many days has it been?” I ask

“I don’t know, maybe five days?” He doesn’t sound very positive

“Maybe five days? How many days Frankie?”

“Three…it’s been three days and I am going crazy” he says ‘then we almost kissed and I panicked and I was on edge and just needed a hit’ he thinks to himself

“ok” she says and stands up.

“Wait where are you going?” He asks, panic setting in

He’s worried that she is going to get his bag, she’s gonna ask him to leave. This is too much, this isn’t what she signed up for. She’s given up on him. His head falls back, he wants this couch to eat him alive. He wanted to disappear before and that feeling is ten times worse, now that she knows his secret.

She comes back a large poster in her hand, the other has a sharpie and stickers. She sits it on the table and sits on the floor next to Frankie. He watches as she makes little boxes, writing dates, making a calendar. Her tongue peeks out of her tongue as she concentrates on the task at hand. He leans forwards, and continues to watch over her shoulder. She looks up at him, “ok did you use today?”

He shakes his head no “I couldn’t find it”

“right..” she puts a little star sticker on today's date “and you said three days since the last time”

He nods. She puts a sticker on the past three days

“What are you doing?” He asks

That was a great question. What was I doing? This idea sounded crazy in my head, even more crazy as I explained to Frankie. It would be like a reward chart. Something like when you were a kid and had chores, you’d get a sticker for each thing completed. The more stickers you get a reward. The more I say this, and look at his face of confusion the more dumb this idea sounded. He isn’t a kid, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.

“This is stupid, just forget it.” I sigh pushing the stuff away from me

His large hands stop the poster from moving, he brings it closer.

“What is my reward?” He asks curiously

“Uhm…what do you want?”

“Pancakes…” he says

”Pancakes? Really?” and he nods “ok how about we start with a week, you make it a week, I’ll make you pancakes”

“With sprinkles?” His boyish smile is back, his eyes wide and I have a little hope that this stupid, wacky, insane idea might work

I smile and nod at him. I move to sit next to him on the couch, “I’ll have to go buy some. But sure, you can have sprinkles”

“Hey Lexi, one more thing?” He asks “Can we get some helicopter stickers?”

I smile and cup his cheek, my thumb gently brushing the trimmed beard, “yes Franklin. We can get some helicopter stickers”

ANN: A huge shout out to @musings-of-a-rose for helping me with this and giving me confidence to post this in first person. I am still terrified of it. @theewokingdead and @heythere-mel for listening to my random ass ideas at all hours. I love each and every one of you.

Looking for more of my fics check out my masterlist. And check out other writers at @littlemisspascal and their library for all Pedro Characters

Just A Dream Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

#Christina Writes #Just A Dream #Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal Characters #Frankie Morales #Francisco Morales #Triple Frontier #Pedro Pascal Characters Fan Fic #Frankie Morales x OFC #Original Female Character #Frankie x F!Reader #triple frontier au

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albertasunrise · 1 year

Note

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.

Taglist form

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 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @mishasminion360 @giggly-otter @athalien @mssbridgerton @huitzilinthebudgie3 @samanthacookieone @salome-c @radcollectivesoul @pedrohoe04 @paintlavillered @ktmadden86 @hotchlover @kirsteng42 @djjarins @balekanemohafe @misscampacyn @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @pedromandoverse @destiny-tsukino @mysun-n-stars @tombraider42017 @littlemisspascal @thatpinkshirt @evyiione @girlofchaos @vanemando15

#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

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boogiewrites · 2 years

Text

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Javier Peña x OFC

Never Break the Chain 5 Part Series (Javier Peña and the original character Esme) Complete

The story follows the moments in their relationship in which things change, carrying the story of their romance from being young and in love in Texas at age 18 to the modern Narcos timeline. We follow Esme on her rise to being a top thief and Javier Peña's rise in the ranks. We see how their paths inevitably intersect in Columbia and how they handle coming face to face after a faked death and decades apart. It's dramatic, it's a cop loving a criminal and them being torn between their ways of life and their love. There's a happy ending among the angst.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Another Man (One Shot)

You see Frankie in a new light, and that light just started a fire inside you.

Explicit 18+ : Dirty Talk, Rough sex, p in v, oral f receiving, talk of bodily fluids, ownership.

Din Djarin x Reader

Burning Star Din Djarin is a long-time associate and friend. When faced with the truth about the creed he's taken, doubts begin to grow in his mind about his choices. He comes to you, looking for a confidant and he finds more than he bargained for.Begins latter part of S2, porn with plot. A growing romance between two characters that thought of themselves as solitary creatures now wanting to no longer be alone. But with The Mandalorian being who he is, things can never be so simple.

Chapter 1

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bluestar22x · 10 months

Text

Snowed In

Summary: After a freak snowstorm you and your husband were left alone, stranded in the lake house you were vacationing in for the holidays. It wouldn't have been a problem if you hadn't gone into labor.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Pregnant!Reader (mentioned to have thick hair but no physical description otherwise)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Fowl language, descriptions of labor and the birthing process; mentions of bodily fluids. (Tried to not be too descriptive, but it's not exactly that vague either.) Two parents doing their best in a bad situation. Is this medically accurate? Maybe?

Word Count: 3,788

Author’s Note: This fic is so out of season but oh well. I got all up in my head thinking about a Pedro character having to help with the delivery of his child and just had to write it.

xxx

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, a holiday vacation to a friend's lake house in the Colorado Rocky Mountains, your last getaway before the baby arrived.

You'd planned to be there from December twenty-three to January second, with only your husband Frankie for company, just relaxing and enjoying the seclusion and peaceful atmosphere. You'd brought a bunch of DVDs to watch and your Christmas gifts, along with your necessities, and your friend Lydia had thoughtfully set up a Christmas tree in the corner of the living room sometime before your arrival.

Everything had been near perfect. The lake house offering a stellar view of the nearly frozen over lake and its fireplace offering a cozy area to curl up in.

Christmas had been completely uneventful, but the next morning you'd learned from the local television news that an unexpected snowstorm was rapidly approaching, and it was going to be pretty nasty, blinding drivers and dumping at least five feet of snow in the upcoming two days.

You'd considered leaving early to avoid it, but Frankie was nervous about getting caught up in the beginning of the storm with that warning about low visibility.

So, instead, you both made sure the house was well stocked with food and hunkered down. It wasn't like that hadn't been the original plan anyway. By the time you had to leave the storm would be just a memory.

You could've never predicted that you'd wake up at four in the morning on December twenty-seven to a terrible cramp in your stomach. You winced and your hand flew to your massive belly, clutching it. You could feel a hardness to it before something relaxed in you and the pain went away. That was when you knew the dull ache you'd felt earlier in the night was something more.

Your jaw dropped. You were going into labor.

"Oh no, oh no," you chanted, panicked. "This can't be happening. Not now!"

"Not now what?" Frankie mumbled drowsily, stirred awake by your mental meltdown. He rolled over in bed to face you and you pointed to your stomach.

"I'm having contractions," you declared. "And not the fake kind. I had a dull ache earlier, but it got worst. It's progressing."

"Shit." Frankie hissed. "You sure? You're a month early."

You nodded confidently. "I wasn't earlier, but I am now."

He stood immediately and started to dress up, yanking on a green sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans. "I'll go shovel the driveway and see if the plows have cleared the road yet." He paused and turned to you, a hand stretched out. "Are you going to be okay here for a little bit? Do you need anything, at all?"

"Yeah, I'll be alright," you replied surely. "It's not anything I can't handle right now. I'll just stay here, try to catch a little more shut eye."

"I'll start a fire before I head out," he promised you, bending over to kiss you on the lips. "And I'll be back in as soon as I can."

You nodded again and watched as he bolted out of the room like a rabbit. Your heart was thumping hard in your chest.

The storm was ongoing, still had a day left to go and had already delivered over half of the snow that had been predicted. For once the weatherman had been correct, and that was bad news for you. It meant more likely than not the road was blocked by snow. Enough of it to make it impossible for Frankie's beat up old pick-up truck to get out of the driveway. The snowplow drivers never made it a priority to plow the off beaten path roads. Especially when the owners of the lake houses in the area didn't often visit in the winter. They usually only used them in the summer and fall and for a short time period when the ice was thick enough for some winter fishing.

The anxiety building in you made it hard to fall back asleep and you gave up after spending thirty minutes in bed shifting around restlessly until the next contraction hit you.

Had it been a little more painful that time? You had no idea.

You pulled yourself out of bed and waddled over to the couch in the living room so you could sit back on it and watch the fire Frankie had made, hoping that the flickering flames and the warmth would soothe you. And it did for a little while, until Frankie stomped back into the house an hour later, looking like the abominable snowman.

"And?" you prompted.

He tugged off the gloves and the snow hat he was wearing and shook his head. "I got the driveway cleared out enough, but the main road hasn't seen a plow since yesterday afternoon. We're stuck, for now." He scratched at the base of his neck, worry in his eyes. "How are the contractions?"

"Still about the same in strength," you answered. "And around twenty-eight minutes apart. It's still very early, and since I'm a first time mom it should take a long time to really progress."

He ticked his jaw as he hung up his winter coat on the rack by the front door. "I'm going to call 911. The plows will open the road up if they have to get through."

You perked up a bit, not sure why you hadn't thought of it first. "Do it now."

He gave you a quick nod and slipped his cell phone out of his pocket, attempting to dial the emergency number.

Attempting being the word. The call didn't go through, his phone having no signal.

"How are there no fucking working towers nearby?" Frankie exclaimed, tossing his phone onto the kitchen table in frustration, palming his face. "911 calls are supposed to be picked up by any tower, whether we have that service or not."

"The storm," you reminded him quietly, as if he could forget, mouth suddenly going dry. You licked your lips and swallowed hard.

You and Frankie were alone for the foreseeable future. You could tell he had come to the same horrifying conclusion as you had because you saw your own fear reflected in his eyes in the firelight.

Your stomach dropped. "Fuck no." You rocked yourself a little where you sat. "Fuck. Why did I let Lydia convince me this was a good fucking idea? I mean, who takes a vacation so close to their due date? Where there's snow? And shitty cell reception? She doesn't even have a landline for back up. I am going to fucking kill her."

"No you won't," Frankie said with a sigh, plopping down on the couch next to you and rubbing your upper thigh, trying to comfort you. "Emma was in labor for nineteen hours, surely before then a plow will come around, and as soon as it does, I'll take you to the nearest hospital. It'll be okay."

Emma was his ex-girlfriend, and co-parent to Frankie's six year old son, Nic.

Emma had been much smarter than you. She'd stayed in Florida during her whole pregnancy. She'd delivered her son in the hospital she'd picked out, just like she had planned. You might not even get to a hospital.

As if on cue, another contraction rippled through you, and you bit your lip and pressed your hand back against your baby bump. Luckily it was still brief, and when your muscles relaxed you could feel your little one shifting inside you. Feeling the movement calmed you - slightly.

When you glanced up from looking at your belly, your eyes found Frankie's again. They were full of sympathy. "Anything I can do, baby?" he inquired again earnestly.

You had a feeling you were going to hear those words a lot that day and you were grateful.

"I'm starving," you told him. "I can't have too much food, but do you mind making toast?"

The electricity had gone out while Frankie had been out shoveling, but you could hear the backup generator running and the kitchen was one of the rooms it covered. You might as well have a bite to eat before it got too hard to keep food down, you’d figured.

He closed the gap between you and pressed a feathery light kiss to your forehead. "Course not. Coming right up."

With that, he was on his feet, headed for the kitchen like a man on a mission.

xxx

“Okay, it's okay," you said trying to calm yourself, pep talk yourself as you held on tightly to the back of the couch, mid contraction. "You almost completed nursing school, women have done this for thousands of years, you can do this."

It was many hours later, mid afternoon, and your contractions were much more intense. They were fifteen minutes apart and getting even closer at an alarming rate. The storm was still raging outside, the road was still blocked, and neither your phone nor Frankie's could catch a tower.

It had all become very real to you that you were probably going to be giving birth in the lake house, with only Frankie to assist.

Frankie, who was at your side, helping you to remain standing as you endured it, sucked in a sharp breath. "You really don't think the plow will show up before then?"

"I don't have the experience to say for sure," you replied, gasping, "But - urgh! - something in my gut is telling me we don't have much time left. We're going to have to prepare."

"Sit down on the couch," he ordered you as you slumped forward, another contraction over with. "I'll get you whatever you need."

You may have flunked out of the last few courses before you’d have graduated college, and you may have not refreshed your memory since, but you did still remember a thing or two, and you'd watched a lot of medical YouTube videos about pregnancy and birth after you'd found out you were pregnant, so it wasn't like you were totally clueless, but you were clueless enough to make your anxiety skyrocket.

You stepped around to the couch’s front and collapsed onto it, resting your head in your hands and taking a moment to collect yourself before you started to list everything you could think of that would be needed before and after you gave birth.

He swiped all the clean towels and washcloths out of the bathroom, a few pillows from the bedroom, a water bottle out of the fridge, and a trash bin from the bedroom. You had him set all the items up in the living room, even though the bed probably would've been comfier to lay back in during the last few hours of your labor.

You wouldn't have been able to explain it, but something about being in the living room, in a more open space, made you feel better. You didn't need to though. Frankie yes ma'am-ed you the entire time.

"Is that everything?" he inquired, eyes scanning the towel covered floor in front of the couch and the other items that littered the pushed aside coffee table.

"Need you to boil some water," you answered as you clutched at your aching lower back. "Lydia has some sewing string in the kitchen junk drawer. Throw a roll in the water and a pair of scissors, and let it sterilize them."

He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"It's to tie off the cord," you explained. "It can stay attached, but after five minutes we're going to need to cut off the blood flow so the baby doesn't get jaundice. The sewing string is all I can think of in here that could do that."

Frankie left the room to start his task and within the hour the sewing string and scissors were ready, laid out on a clean hand towel on the living room side table.

He returned to your side as another, more powerful wave hit you. You closed your eyes and grimaced, nails digging into the couch's fabric beneath you. You felt him gently stroking your arm as it dissipated.

"You're going to have to catch the baby and dry them off when the time comes," you told him, opening your eyes back up.

He pursed his lips. "I figured that much."

"You'll do fine," you assured him, and he chuckled.

"I should be telling you that."

You flashed him a small, tired smile. "Exactly."

If everything went right, that and tying the cord was all he'd have to do.

If.

Something you recalled from your nursing classes had you chewing on your lower lip.

"What is it?" Frankie asked warily, recognizing your troubled expression.

"Nothing," you said, shaking your head. There was going to be a lot of risk in giving birth in the lake house, but there was also no use worrying about it at this point. You had no choice and thinking about it was just going to stress you out even more than you already were.

Eventually the pain got so intense you couldn't think about it anymore, both a blessing and a curse.

When the contractions weren't making you freeze up, you were pacing like a wild animal trapped in a tiny cage, trying to walk off the pain that was starting to feel unbearable.

Why was something so natural so painful? You wondered.

You were sweating buckets, so you stripped down, almost entirely, to nothing but your sports bra. You were getting close to being in active labor anyway, the contractions seven minutes apart.

Frankie sat quietly on the couch with you sitting in front of him, massaging your lower back, trying to ease a stitch your labor had caused.

He'd been pretty quiet for a while, seemingly not sure what to say and probably all up in his head about what he would need to do.

You weren't worried he'd pass out from the sight of your blood, but you knew all the military training in the world wouldn't be able to keep him as cool as a cucumber when the time came. Internally he was probably panicking.

When he stood and tried dialing 911 again your suspicions were confirmed.

Unbelievably, the call finally went through. You knew immediately when his eyes widened, and he frantically rattled off the lake house address and explained your situation. The 911 operator had him put his phone on speaker, with the intention of guiding you and him through the process if needed, but then the phone cut off again.

"Damn it!" Frankie yelled in frustration as he chucked his, once again, useless phone onto the couch. "We might as well be on a homestead in northern Alaska."

"At least they're on their way," you said. It made you feel a little better even if they wouldn't likely make it in time.

You were sure they wouldn't when, moments later, a contraction sent you to your knees on the towels by the front of the couch. There was a gush of fluid and, your water broken, the pain intensified by a factor of ten.

"Fuck!" you shouted, groaning as an overwhelmingly weighted sensation overtook you. "Oh god, I have to push, I have to, I have to."

You muttered those words on loop as you turned your back to the couch for support and spread your legs, bending your knees after. Fear bloomed in your chest, but it was easy to knock aside by that point.

Frankie was quickly on his knees in front of you, eyes on your face.

"Then push, honey," he said softly. "I got you." His large hands found your thighs, and the warmth radiating off them grounded you, reassuring you more than words ever could.

You looked into his eyes for a moment and there was a brief calm in them, a determination, before he swallowed hard and nodded at you.

You did the same, and with the next contraction you bore down as hard as you could, panting out heavy breaths when you remembered to breath.

It hurt, so much, but it also felt good to push. To be able to do something about it.

Through your efforts, you caught quick glimpses of Frankie's eyes darting from your face to between your legs, and the worry etched on his own face pulled at your heartstrings, but you were in no shape of mind to return the assurance his words and touch had given you earlier.

"You're doing so well, baby; the head's out," he informed you just as you were becoming concerned that you might not be making much progress, despite having been pushing for at least twenty minutes. He managed a brief smile, even though he was the definition of a bundle of nerves. "Got a ton of hair. Just like you."

His comment, and your quick glance down to confirm it, renewed your determination to get your baby out. You wanted to hold them so bad. After the hours of labor you'd endured, you more than deserved it.

You cried out with your next heave and was rewarded with another update from Frankie. "The shoulders are out," he stated, voice laced with subtle excitement. "Come on, sweetheart, I think you can do it in one more big push. Okay? Push!"

You squeezed your eyes shut, screamed with effort, and suddenly there was a sweet release as your baby slipped out of you, into Frankie's waiting hands, another gush of fluid following, spilling onto the already soaked towels beneath you.

"It's a girl!" you heard Frankie announce distantly.

You fell back briefly when his words registered in your mind, relieved that the worst part was over, before your brain switched into mom mode. Your eyes snapped open and you angled your head so you could see your baby. Frankie was cradling her half-dried body in his arms, attempting to clear fluid out of her delicate little mouth with one of his pinkie fingers. His eyebrows knitted with concern as he tried to encourage her to breath, and your heart tightened as you felt the same dread he was likely feeling because your baby hadn't taken a breath yet. Had it been ten seconds yet?

Ten seconds was typically how long it took for a newborn to take their first breath, but you were pretty sure that time frame had already passed.

Please be okay, you silently begged.

A few more agonizing seconds passed, then she released a tiny gasp as her little chest rose, and you and Frankie found yourselves both sobbing in relief, tears streaming down your faces.

"Hello, beautiful," Frankie whispered to his daughter, awe written on his face as he gently placed her on top of a clean towel so he could finish cleaning her up. Afterwards he bundled her into a fresh one as best as he could with the umbilical cord still attached to her (and you).

Once he was finished all his tasks, he passed her to you, over your stomach, laying her belly down on your chest, before getting up so he could sit down beside you against the couch. He tugged you against his side for warmth and comfort. "Are you okay? Do you feel lightheaded at all? Weak?"

You shook your head. "Just tired, and obviously, sore."

You were staring down at your daughter, studying every little feature of her that you could see. You weren't good at guessing which parts of a baby's face were shared with one of their parents, but there was no mistaking that her hair was as thick as yours, and her eyes were the same shade of brown as Frankie's.

"God, she is beautiful. We did that, Frankie." You brushed your palm under her minuscule fingers as you examined them, then lifted the entirety of her smooth, dainty hand to press it to your lips.

"You did the most work," he said pointedly, a smile on his face.

"And don't you forget it," you joked, beaming up at him, laying a hand against the center of his chest.

His smile grew wider, and he kissed your temple before resting his forehead against it. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," you whispered back, the feelings you had for him somehow even stronger than before, after having witnessed the unspoken love he had for the daughter you shared. Most of your memories of this day would likely blur, but you couldn't imagine the image of Frankie trying desperately to clear out her airway ever fading. The moment had been terrifying, but seeing him doing whatever he could think of to help his baby breathe had altered your brain chemistry nearly as much as her existence had.

It had impressed you too. "How'd you know to put your finger in her mouth?"

With no way to suction the liquid out of your baby's mouth and nose, he'd done the next best thing, you figured, without having to be told. It confused you. Where had he learned that?

The tips of his ears turned a little red. "We might have had a stray dog on base one time, and she might have given birth in my tent."

You grinned. You couldn't believe he'd withheld that story from you the entire three years you'd known each other. "So, this isn't your first time playing midwife after all."

"It's nowhere near the same," he told you firmly.

You nodded. "I'm sure."

"So, what are we naming her?" he asked, stroking your baby's cheek with the back of his hand. Her face was angled his way, her other cheek pressed against your right breast through the fabric of your soft cotton sports bra.

You'd narrowed the names down to two boy ones and two girl ones last week, having no idea you wouldn't have more time to choose one for each.

"I still like Mia best," you informed him.

"Then Mia it is," Frankie decided without hesitance, bending to kiss her forehead.

You smiled at them both as he pulled away, and you began rubbing her back gently, instinctively, when she started whimpering, getting ready to cry. "Mia it is."

Frankie had mind to check his watch. "It's been five minutes. Probably more. Time to tie off the cord?"

You nodded, and he was reaching for the roll of string when you both stilled at the sound of sirens.

An ambulance was coming. The knowledge that a pair of paramedics had been so close to arriving in time to assist you and Frankie with your daughter's birth drew annoyance from you.

You rolled your eyes dramatically. "Now they show up."

Frankie couldn't help but laugh loudly at your comment, and Mia, in turn, started crying.

xxx

Main Masterlist

#Triple Frontier Fanfic #Frankie Morales Fanfic (Mine)#X Reader #Fanfiction #Mine

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for-a-longlongtime · 5 months

Note

I loved the first part of Nothing That I Didn't Know, but wondered who your ideal sandwich pairing is? 🥪

Santi x Frankie x Reader

Javi x Tim x Reader

Or maybe something else?

Or is there another one lurking in there?

I've been saving this one for a rainy day, @linzels-blog <3

SUCH DIFFICULT CHOICES.

Okay let me start by saying that, unfortunately for her, Javi x Tim x reader isn't even my ideal sandwich for that WIP. (That's not to say I don't love those three together though!) To me, this is the real MVP sandwich of that fic:

Tim Rockford x Javier Peña x Marcus Pike. I mean, I hope you're ready...

Then sometime in May next year, there's a Frankie Morales x Benny Miller x reader sandwich coming up for @rhoorl (which I think I mentioned here the other day? but my memory is shit so maybe I only mentioned it in a spiral squad evening on Discord, haha).

At some point I'll also get to writing a Javier Peña x Judy Moncada x reader sandwich one shot (first FFM fic, yay!). I'm looking forward to that one because that should be a trip - and yes, it's definitely going to be part hate fucking. (And lucky for me, I know that this one is definitely NOT gonna be more than just a one shot - unlike several WIPs that totally escalated) Thanks for the hyping on this one @legendary-pink-dot <3

I haven't taken any official notes for this yet, but I am planning a Dieter Bravo x Javier Gutierrez fic which I suspect may end up becoming more than just a one shot (hopefully it'll stay contained as a very short series, we'll see what happens). In that case, I'm pretty sure that there will also be a Dieter x Javi G x male original character or male!reader chapter (👀 @sin-djarin I know I haven't said anything about this yet because it was just a passing thought, but the vague idea for it *exists*)

But honestly?

Yeah, Santi x Frankie x reader is hands down my absolute favorite sandwich. For SO many reasons. It's how they actually pushed Tim x Javi aside, because they wanted to be the first fic I posted. What can I say - I have a really big soft spot for all three of them. Plus, y'know - Santi and Frankie, that's pretty much canon IMO, just look at Triple Frontier. <3

Thank you for asking and letting me yap about my sandwich love! Honestly, it's not like I only like threesome fics, or even that I intend to only write those (for example, there definitely is an Ezra x Marcus Pike WIP outline! And there's not going to be a sandwich pairing in there) - but, you know. There are so many fucking fantastic writers out there who write all kinds of pairings so beautifully, and I totally love that. I want to add something of myself and the things I care about to that.

Personally I'm a sucker for representation because I think it's super important for everybody to be able to see themselves reflected in fic, and even to just see the diversity of gender, sexuality, intimacy and all kinds of relationships. So bi, gay, lesbian and queer characters, as well as polyamorous relationships, really have been part of my fic ideas from the beginning - particularly because there are a lot fewer of those than straight male x female couple fics in the Pedro verse. I’m glad that you and others are here for that sandwich love ❤️🥪

#bi representation #Javier Peña #marcus pike #tim rockford #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales #santiago garcia #benny miller #judy moncada #narcos #triple frontier #where is my sandwich #nothing that i didn't know

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deadhumourist · 1 year

Text

Fandom Finds - last week of Dec

Hello! I finally got to catch up on some much-needed reading, and I'm in absolute awe of how incredibly talented people on here are. So I'm going to do a weekly round-up of things I loved in the Pedro Pascal fandom- art, fics, you name it. Here's what I loved in Dec (and a little before then, as it's the intro post!)

A gentle reminder to please support and reblog from your favourite creators to ensure more people see their amazing work!

Here we go, under the cut:

Starman (series) - @imtryingmybeskar (Ezra x F!Reader)

You know when you read something so good, you close your laptop because no words you can put on paper is going to come close to what you just read? That was me last week. This series is incredible - sensitive, insightful, a transportive glimpse into something very different. Ezra drops into his soulmate's lap, but it's not as simple as that. Clear your schedule. Read it.

Driving Mr Tovar (series) - @sirowsky (Pero Tovar x F!Reader)

When I read the original series, I turned into that crazed fan that sent the author songs that reminded me of her fic. Luckily the lovely author humoured me and we are still friends today. She's currently updating the series and the updated version is EVEN better than the original (I'm halfway through the reread of Chapter 1). Pero Tovar doesn't let anyone into his life, least of all his new driver. But he has no idea who he's up against and how his life will change. Perfect holiday escapism right here.

Queen of Poisons (series) - @artemiseamoon (Ezra x F!OFC)

Arte's Ezra and fantastic OFC Nyx has been living completely rent-free in my brain since I first inhaled the series months ago. The push and pull between these two is delicious and her heroine is a deeply nuanced badass who doesn't stand back when faced with danger. If you like supernatural worlds and strong female protagonists, you will love this.

Flowers for Ishtar (series) - Beskarberry (Din Djarin x F!Reader)

I already screamed at the author like an unhinged banshee, but this was one of the most fantastical, wild series I have ever read. Non-human!Mando and F!Reader have a solid partnership until he starts acting very weird. Please, for the love of the reptilian spacepope, read the extensive and detailed warnings, because this won't be for everyone. But if you do proceed - it's funny, magical, soft, sexy, unhinged and brilliant science-fiction fantasy with our favourite buckethead.

My only wish (series) - @foli-vora (Jack Daniels x F!Reader)

Come get your fluffy, sweet Christmas goodness here! Jack Daniels grinches his way into a a situation he never thought he's find himself in. Special appearance by a hilarious little menace who forces Jack and Reader's hand as subtly as a sledgehammer. Treat yo'self.

Unnamed (one-shot) - @juletheghoul (Frankie Morales x F!Reader Siren)

Jules' short and utterly *beautifully* devastating story about Frankie and a Siren will haunt you in more ways than one. It's the kind of story that you think about at 2am when you can't sleep.

The Fox, the Mage and the Cupboard (series) - @littlemisspascal (Multiple characters x F!Reader)

Make a cup of tea, settle under a fleece blanket and let Rae transport you to a magical world where you can forget about all the madness and real world problems. It features Javi G, Din and Pero and she makes them all very special, very distinct from each other. This series feels like a soft hug with some yearning for good measure.

An Evening with Monsters (series)- @clydesducktape (Triple Frontier boys in individual stores x F!Reader)

Kinktober hit different this year with this delicious line-up of monsters - the Triple Frontier boys are an absolute feast in this series. Thia is an incredibly talented writer, it might not be Halloween anymore, but you'll be yearning for these boys anyway.

All about the Bass - @katareyoudrilling (Marcus Pike x F!Reader)

Listen. This author has created a musical universe with the most perfect Marcus Pike (a musician) and I refuse to leave. I refuse. Get your bag, we're going to Yearnsville and staying there - this is romantic and soft and amazing. Marcus and you join an orchestra and it's not just musical notes flying. *chef's kiss*

#fic recs #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic

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lady-morrigen · 1 year

Text

Tango in the Night (Repost)

Let Me Follow: Chapter One | Chapter Two

Pairing: Santi “Pope” Garcia x Frankie “Catfish” Morales x female reader

Words: 11k +

Warnings: this fic is absolutely filthy, I’m not going to lie to you. Reader is going to Paris, which is why you’re here. There’s cursing, dirty talk, oral, reader gives a fantastic bj, fingering, vaginal sex, anal sex, DP. There’s some angst at the end and minor character death. brief alcohol use.

A/N: This was written as a collab between myself and my soulmate, @acrossthesestars 🖤 It was originally posted to her account in May '21 and the link to the original ao3 post can be found here. Since she is moving all of her fic exclusively to ao3, we agreed that re-posting from my account would be a good way to keep it available for those of you who enjoyed reading it when it was posted. I will also be posting the update that we wrote as part of last year's kinktober a little bit later. This does not mean I'm coming back to the fandom. For all of you that gave this story love when it was originally posted, we thank you. This story is the first fic that Alex ever posted and to see how she's flourished since just makes my heart so happy! Go check out her fics on ao3 and leave her lots of love!

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Smoke filled the dimly lit bar, curling around your face and covering everything in a dingy haze. Sweat dripped down your neck and between the valley of your breasts; your already hypersensitive skin tingling with every drop that slid down your body. The tequila had kicked in, giving you some liquid courage and adding an extra sway in your hips as you danced to the music coming out of the old jukebox.

You felt their eyes on you before you actually saw them. Running your hands down your body and up into your hair, you turned around and were pinned in place by two sets of dark eyes.

One pair belonged to a shorter man, almost stocky but certainly well built. His jaw looked like it was carved from marble and his hair was greying at the temples. He wore a short sleeved black shirt over a simple grey tee that hugged his defined chest, leaning against the bench with his arms draped against the back and his legs spread wide; a playful smirk on his handsome face. The other set of eyes belonged to someone slightly taller and obviously more reserved. He wore a short-sleeved button-up shirt that hung off of his broad shoulders in a way that accentuated just enough of his frame to let you know that he was as well built as his friend. The grey shirt was patterned with white cranes and looked silky; the kind of shirt you would wear around the house in nothing but your underwear. His dark jeans were tight around his thighs and you couldn’t help but notice how the muscles of his forearms rippled as he crossed them over his chest. His eyes hadn’t left your frame for more than two seconds since the moment he spotted you.

The shorter one nodded in your direction and his friend leaned in to whisper something in his ear, making his smile spread farther. You blushed under their attention and continued to sway under the lights of the bar, turning your back to them and lifting your hair off of your neck for some small relief from the oppressive heat. You threw what you hoped was a sultry glance over your shoulder back towards their table but to your surprise and disappointment the booth was empty. You pouted as you spun back towards the bar but before you could take a step strong hands wound their way around your waist, touching your stomach far more intimately than you would typically allow from a stranger. Those same hands pulled you back against a taut stomach and a muscular chest. You stumbled but he caught you, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you, gorgeous,” he said just above the din of the music. His voice was warm like honey and you relaxed instantly in his arms. The smile you heard in his tone led you to believe this was the shorter one with the wicked grin. You looked over your shoulder and confirmed your suspicion. His face was open and handsome, his jaw covered in five o clock shadow that made you weak in the knees. You reached a hand back and ran your fingers over that stubble as you tossed him a smirk.

“And what’s your name?” you asked as you began to sway along to the beat with him.

“Santiago, but my friends get to call me Santi. And you?” You gave him your name and he repeated it back, the sound of it on his lips was almost sinful. His hands continued to travel your body as you allowed yourself to grind against him in earnest. He let out a rough groan and you giggled at the sound, loving that you were getting a reaction out of such a cocky man.

“And your friend? Does he have a name?”

“Catfish? Well, he’d probably want you to call him Frankie,” he said with a chuckle as he nuzzled against your neck with his nose. You reached around and lifted your hair out of the way, reveling in the feeling of Santi behind you. He pressed a hot, open mouth kiss against the nape of your neck and the feeling sent shivers down your spine and electricity sparking across your skin. When you could finally focus, you looked forward and right into the soft brown eyes of Frankie. A smile tugged at your lips when you saw him trying to keep a straight face. His arms were crossed across his broad chest and he was leaning against the wall by the jukebox.

A nibble on your earlobe drew a small moan from you and brought your attention back to Santi. When you turned your head to look over your shoulder you saw him holding eye contact with his friend. You watched as a wolfish grin spread across his face as he gently tugged your hair and pulled your head to the side, exposing your neck to Frankie.

A handsome blonde man appeared across the room, sidling up to Frankie. He gave you a once over as he took a swig from his beer before leaning in and saying something with a smirk. You sensed more than you heard the growl from Frankie before Santi pulled you tighter against his body and you felt the hard length of him against your ass. You gasped and closed your eyes for a split second, to revel in that feeling of being so openly desired, but when you opened them again Frankie was gone, leaving just the blonde man with a shocked expression slapped across his face. You swallowed your disappointment and closed your eyes again, allowing yourself to get lost in the music; the only thing keeping you grounded was the firm touches of the man holding you against his chest.

You were shocked to feel a calloused hand cup gently cup your face. As you blinked your eyes open, you found that you were face-to-face with the stranger in the grey shirt. Frankie. That’s what Santi said you should call him. His warm brown eyes searched your own to make sure that it was ok that he joined you. Your mischievous smile was enough for him. He took a step forward, slotting his knee between your legs and placing both hands on your hips as he guided you against his leg in time with the music.

His hips moved with you, making sure that you never lost contact with his muscular thigh as he tilted his head forward and pressed his forehead to yours. For all his obvious shyness, Frankie sure could dance. Santi’s hands slipped down your thighs and he began to gather your dress in his fists, pulling it up slowly until you were all but exposed. You had on a flimsy lace thong, but you might as well have been naked between them. One song melted into the next and soon the three of you were a sweating, writhing mess on the dance floor. You’re not sure when it happened, but you and Frankie had stopped with the playful, teasing nose bumps and progressed into open-mouthed kisses as you grabbed at fistfuls of his curly brown hair. Your tongues were exploring each other in a frenzy, exchanging heavy breaths with the rise and fall of the music; your teeth clashing together in messy desperation. You were sure that people were staring, but you didn’t care. As far as you were concerned, there was no one else in the club other than you and the two men you’d found yourself tangled up in.

You dropped your head back on Santi’s shoulder and saw the two of them share a glance. Santi took a step back and pulled you away from Frankie, who threw you a wink and a smile when he heard your noise of protest.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be back,” Santi said with a laugh as he dragged you back to the booth the two of them had shared earlier in the evening. He stood back as you slid in, the faded leather sticking slightly to your sweaty thighs. Once again he leaned back and spread his arms wide across the back of the seat, his eyes slightly glazed from the alcohol and the feeling of your hands on his body. He reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes and dragged his calloused fingertips down your neck, causing your skin to erupt in goose bumps.

Everywhere he had touched you felt as if it was on fire and you found yourself beginning to resent how unaffected he seemed when you felt as if you were burning to ash. You cocked your head at him and rested your hand high on his thigh, biting your lip when you saw him swallow hard; his grin becoming brittle as you scooted closer and pressed your breasts against his side. You nuzzled your nose against his jaw again and pressed a kiss behind his ear when you felt him shudder under your renewed attention. He turned his face towards you, his sinful mouth just a breath from yours.

“Where did your friend run off to?” you asked casually as you peeled yourself off of Santi. His eyes had gone unfocused while you had kissed his neck and he shook his head to clear it of the fog that had fallen over him.

“Well, what do you know? Here he comes. But I don’t know how Frankie feels about sharing,” Santi said loud enough for his friend to hear, his smirk back in full force and his confidence regained. “You might have to convince him.”

Frankie had approached the table holding a tray filled with more shots of tequila and a few glasses of water, condensation beading on the glass. He set it on the table gently before sliding into the booth on your other side and clearing his throat. The look in his eyes was unsure, almost innocent but for the fire that sparked and smoldered when he looked you up and down, taking in how the sweat from dancing had plastered the thin fabric of your dress to your body. You leaned towards Frankie and reached for a glass of water, sipping slowly and never breaking eye contact, letting out a little shiver when you felt Santi tracing designs on the skin of your back. You had just been kissing him on the dance floor, but something about the raw vulnerability in Frankie’s eyes made you feel shy and eager to please. You reached down and lightly ran your hand up his thigh, reveling in the shudder that coursed through him at your touch. His eyes were all over you, flicking from your teasing hand to your flushed chest to your bottom lip that you’d coyly pulled between your teeth. He shifted in his seat, doing a poor job of covertly adjusting the bulge forming under his jeans. You used his sudden motion as an excuse to “accidentally” brush your palm against his growing cock. His eyes snapped to yours and when you gave him a lazy smile he lifted his hips again, this time with purpose, and you flexed your fingers against his considerable length. He dropped his head back and groaned and Santi leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your shoulder, scraping his teeth lightly against your salty skin.

Santi was the first to pull away, leaning back against the booth and bumping your thigh with his own to get your attention.

“So what’s a pretty American like you doing down here?” he asked as he reached for one of the water glasses. You turned to look at him over your shoulder, your eyes catching on the way his throat flexed as he swallowed.

“Peace corps,” you replied as you flicked your eyes up to meet his gaze. His brow furrowed, like he thought your answer was quaint.

“Peace corps?” he asked with a grin.

“Yes,” you said, tartly; annoyed with being mocked. “After college I wanted to travel, do something meaningful with my time. Maybe try and undo some of the damage that’s been done to places like this. In my own small way.”

Santi’s eyes widened at your explanation, still smiling but far less incredulous now. He raised his hands in mock surrender at the conviction in your answer. Behind you Frankie chuckled and you whipped around to face him, ready to lash out, but the look on his face was proud and he simply reached up and gently caught your chin between his fingers.

“That’s good work you’re doing,” he said in a gravelly tone and you preened under his sweet attention, nuzzling your cheek against his hand.

You heard the clink of glasses and looked down at the table to see a shot set in front of you as Santi pushed another towards Frankie, who was rolling his eyes at his friend. He opened his mouth to turn down the booze but you just laughed and rose to the challenge, not looking away from him you downed the shot. He shook his head at the way you grimaced and groaned, the alcohol burning down your throat until it settled in your chest. A hearty laugh behind you brought your attention back to Santi and you turned to face him with a dark look. He just smirked and downed his own shot.

That one shot turned into a few more and soon the three of you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other; laughing and joking and telling stories but always touching, hands wandering beneath the table. While you were sure this bar was no stranger to scenes like this, you felt it was time to see if these boys would put up or shut up. You knew that if you invited them back to your apartment, and they actually accepted, you would be in for an unforgettable experience.

You shuffled in your seat, sweeping your gaze from one man to the other, and leaned against Frankie. Your eyes fell shut as the warmth from his broad chest seeped through the fabric of your dress. You sighed in contentment and let out a soft, snorting laugh. As you settled your back against Frankie’s chest, his own laugh vibrated low and gravely through his chest, jostling you slightly. You reached out and tangled your fingers in the collar of Santi’s t-shirt, his eyes going wide at the dominant gesture, and tugged him towards you. You stopped him just short of meeting your lips and as your breaths tangled together you found your courage.

“I live about two blocks away. Can I convince you boys to join me?”

The words were barely out of your mouth before Frankie stiffened behind you, his hands clenching around your hips, and Santi let out a whooping laugh and began to push at your thighs.

“Lead the way, woman,” he said in a rush and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his excitement. Frankie slid from the booth and reached down to help you out, pulling you close to his chest on your way up. The look in his eyes had gone from soft to smoldering and you shivered under his gaze.

Santi pushed open the door to the alley and held it with a mock bow as you stumbled out, giggling and clutching at Frankie’s hand; more drunk on their attention than the tequila. Frankie had started to loosen up, his smile wider and coming more easily than it had on the dancefloor. He spun you in a graceless circle, laughing softly when you tripped over your own feet. Santi caught you before you could do any damage, chuckling at your antics. As he pulled you upright you clutched at his chest, your hands bunching in the sweat soaked fabric of his shirt and short nails raking across the skin of his pecs. His eyes went dark at the new sensation, pupils blown wide, and he tightened his grip on your hips. He stalked forward until your back was flush against Frankie’s chest and then he was on you, all teeth and tongue. Suddenly it was Frankie’s hands on your hips, holding you steady as Santi threaded his hands through your hair, growling into your mouth as he deepened the kiss. There was a groan behind you and you felt Frankie start to grow hard against your ass as he ground into you, trapping you between his body and Santi’s.

Frankie nuzzled against your neck, peppering it with open mouthed kisses, as Santi pulled your bottom lip between his teeth and you moaned into his mouth. Frankie’s hand had travelled down your leg, bunching your skirt and pulling it up your thigh. You reached behind you to tug at the curls at the nape of his neck, coaxing a broken groan from him that shot straight through you. His hands continued their journey up your thigh until he met the soaking fabric of your panties. You dropped your weight back on him at the feeling, held up only by Santi’s hands in your hair as he sucked a bruise on your neck.

“Fuck, Frankie. Please,” you begged raggedly, not even sure what you were asking for but knowing that you needed more. Frankie growled in your ear at the sound of his name, the noise making you even weaker in the knees. Santi, not wanting to be outdone, ground against you as he claimed your lips in another soul searing kiss. You gasped at the feel of him, hard against you and tugged him closer by his waistband, drawing a snarl from him as you fought with the button on his jeans. Frankie’s thick fingers had slipped under the fabric of your underwear and spread you open. He wasted no time in finding your clit, making your eyes cross at the sensation of his rough skin against you. He slipped one finger inside of you, immediately following with a second and pumping in and out of you slowly. You cried out at the feeling of stretching around him but before the sound had escaped Santi had slipped two fingers into your mouth to muffle the noise. Your eyes flew open to find him looking down his nose at you, demanding and almost arrogant. You moaned around his fingers before twisting your tongue around them and sucking hard. He bit his plush bottom lip and hissed at the feeling of your hot mouth.

Santi reached down and helped you with the button on his pants and you immediately dove in, gasping when you got a hold on him. He was thick and hot in your hand, jumping when you gave a firm stroke. Frankie bit down on your earlobe, demanding your attention and you reached back to tangle your free hand in his hair. You pulled him down for a kiss and opened your mouth for him, sucking gently on his tongue and making him moan. He sped his fingers up, pushing you closer to that edge you’d felt yourself teetering on since you met them. Your knees gave out and the only thing holding you up was Frankie’s fingers inside of you and your grip on Santi’s cock. Frankie sensed what you needed and added another finger, making you moan and swallowing the sound with a particularly aggressive kiss.

“Look at you, all spread open on his fingers where anyone could see,” Santi said with a growl, his eyes focused on the spot where Frankie’s fingers disappeared inside of you. You flushed, half with shame at the truth of the statement and half with excitement that you could be caught out here with them, and continued to stroke Santi’s cock. He hissed again as you twisted your grip and pressed his forehead against yours. You shook as Frankie brushed his thumb against your clit, scissoring his fingers inside of you and making you see stars.

“You’re such a dirty girl, aren’t you? You wouldn’t stop us if we wanted to fuck you out here in the open. You’d love it if we split you open on our cocks right here in this alley,” Santi said darkly as he thrust up into your hand, shaking with the effort to not rip you out of your dress. Frankie growled in agreement as your head dropped back on his shoulder.

Santi crowded into your space and whispered against your neck.

“You’re soaking wet right now, dripping down his hand. He could make you cum right now if he wanted to. I bet if you asked real nice Frankie would make you cum so hard you see stars."

“Frankie please…please…I need,” you babbled as you struggled to stay upright.

“Tell him what you need, little girl.”

“Frankie please, I need to cum. I need to come for you,” you cried out as Frankie ground his cock against your ass and pushed even deeper inside of you, curling his fingers to hit that spot your own were never quite long enough to find yourself. Your vision went white behind your eyelids and you made to shout but were cut off by an almost painful kiss from Santi. With one more brush against your clit starlight exploded in your veins and you came hard around Frankie’s fingers, crying out against Santi’s lips.

After a moment Santi pulled away and began to stuff himself, still rock hard, back into his jeans. Frankie pulled his hands from your soaked underwear and pressed a kiss to your temple before pulling your dress back down to cover your thighs. You still leaned against him, basking in the afterglow of such a powerful orgasm. He made to wipe your juices on his pants but you caught his hand before he could and held it out in front of you, catching Santi’s eyes with a grin and a raised eyebrow. He cocked his head, unsure if you were seriously challenging him but unwilling to back down and slowly leaned in. He threw a look at his friend and whatever he saw in his eyes made him confident enough to bend down slightly and pull Frankie’s glistening fingers between his lips to gently suck your juices off, savoring the taste with a hum. Frankie brushed against your ass with a groan, still hard and trying to find some friction, the feeling of Santi’s mouth and you pressed against his cock becoming overwhelming. You moaned at the sight and never broke eye contact as he moved from digit to digit. When he finished he pulled you in for a kiss so you could taste yourself on him and you melted into his arms.

“So where can we take this party that won’t get us arrested?” he asked with a smirk as he broke the kiss. You stuck your tongue out at him and shoved at his chest weakly before turning around and pushing Frankie a few steps in front of you, rolling your eyes at his brazen friend. He just let out a laugh and fell into step beside you. Santi surprised you by reaching for your hand. You looked into his eyes, shocked to find some insecurity there. You tugged him close, tucking him into your side as you wrapped your fingers around Frankie’s bicep and led them to your apartment.

You shut the door quietly behind you, the lock catching with a strange finality. You were grateful for the radio you had left playing before you had headed to the bar, knowing that if it was silent in the apartment you might have lost your nerve. Your anxiety was soothed by the familiar notes of Tango in the Night floating across the studio from the speaker on your nightstand.

All you had time for was one steadying breath before Santi was on you, his hands firm on either side of your jaw as he pressed you back and against the door. You could feel how tightly he was wound as you ran your hands up his muscled back, scratching against him on your way back down. He moaned into your mouth and it spurred you on. You lifted a leg and wrapped it around his hip. He reached down and gripped your thigh hard, grinding his now obvious erection against your center, giving you the delicious friction you’d been craving. He broke away from your mouth to place love bites along the column of your neck while you pushed the undone button up off of his shoulders, his teeth scraping hard and his tongue licking the salt from your skin. The noise he pulled from you was loud and long and you barely recognized it as your own voice.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty like this,” he moaned against your throat and the feeling was almost overwhelming. A groan from farther in the room caught your attention and you turned your head.

Frankie was standing to the left of the door, glued in place as he watched the two of you with lust-blown eyes. You hadn’t had time to turn on the lights and he was back lit by the warm glow of the streetlamp outside your window, the effect dizzying. He had one hand slicked back through his hair and the other was busy palming himself over his jeans. The look on his face was one of pure desperation, but you could tell that he wasn’t going to get in on the action unless he was given permission. Santi was still kissing his way down your throat and the pure bliss had left you speechless. All you could manage to get out was a pitiful squeak of Frankie’s name as you reached for him weakly. Santi noticed this and pulled away from you for a moment, ignoring your whimpering protest, and walked over to where Frankie was standing. He placed a strong hand at the back of Frankie’s neck, pulling him over to where you were writhing against the wall.

He took a step back to allow Frankie to stand in front of you as you gazed up at him with doe eyes. His large hands ghosted over your frame as he took you in, trying to decide which part of you to touch first. To help him with his decision, you wrapped one arm around his neck and hitched the opposite leg over his hip. You pulled him down for a bruising kiss as his hand found your thigh, holding it in place as he began grinding his bulge against you. His other hand found the base of your neck, tangling his thick fingers in your hair as he pulled you in to deepen the kiss. His hand on your thigh crept upwards slowly, under the skirt of your dress, and splaying across the bare skin of your ass. You let out a small yelp as his fingers dug into the soft flesh. Frankie let out a low growl as he bit down on your lower lip.

In one smooth motion, you swung the other leg up onto his hip, hooking your feet behind his back so that he was now holding you up against the wall. Grunting from the effort, Frankie shifted you up a bit and spun you around towards the couch. As he carried you over, both hands slid under your skirt. With one, he was desperately kneading at one of your ass cheeks as the other slipped down to your slick center, pushing the lace aside so he could run his fingers over your entrance. He let out a loud groan when he felt how wet you still were for him.

Frankie turned and took a seat on the couch, adjusting you so that you were straddling him. You began to slowly circle your hips on his lap, finally finding the friction you’d been so desperate for. You tossed your head back in pleasure, surprised to feel something solid behind you. Santi had appeared behind the two of you and positioned himself between Frankie’s open legs to cage you in from behind. His hands slid around your waist and up your stomach, stopping when he reached your breasts. He gave them a few gentle squeezes, testing their soft weight in his palms. Quicker than you could follow, one of his hands was in your hair and he tugged your head back. You moaned at the feeling, almost painful but full of a burning pleasure, as he leaned down and swallowed the sound. His tongue was in your mouth, tender compared to his hand holding your head to the side and exposing your neck. He dropped to his knees and pressed kisses against your throat. You felt him grasp the zipper on the back of your dress and pull down, tortuously slow. He kissed and nipped at every inch of skin that was revealed.

Frankie’s hips bucked up against you and your eyes flew open at the feeling of him. His gaze was hooded as he reached up and gently slid the thin straps of your dress off of your shoulders. You reached back for him, going for the buttons on his shirt; unfastening them with trembling hands and making sure to lightly scrape your nails against the skin of his chest. He sucked in a shaky breath and you stored the information away in the back of your mind, knowing it would be useful later. Santi reached up and twisted the straps all the way off your arms and you felt the humid breeze from the ceiling fan brush across your naked chest before he caressed you reverently. Goosebumps erupted over your skin and you let out a small whimper. Frankie sat forward suddenly, pushing you out of the cradle of his lap and towards his knees.

“Stand up for me, baby,” he murmured and you marveled at the husky quality of his voice as you stood. In a way that felt surprisingly gentle Santi began to pull the dress down your body, Frankie’s hands ghosting along the same path, before the fabric pooled at your feet and you stood before them in nothing but your barely there underwear. Instead of feeling vulnerable you felt powerful. Santi’s hands were on your shoulders and he turned you to face him, his eyes dark and his chest heaving with deep breaths. The shadows across his face made him appear almost predatory and your breath caught in your chest, an ache settling deeper in your lower belly as you reached for him. He wound his arms around you, hooking a finger beneath the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down; gazing at you from under his lashes as you stepped out of them. His kiss was aggressive as he walked you a few steps backwards. You buckled when the back of your knees hit Frankie and you lowered yourself onto his lap. Santi dropped back to his knees, his hands going to your thighs and pushing them apart.

He started at your right knee; his stubble setting your sensitive skin on fire as he kissed his way towards your inner thigh. His strong hands held your hips in place as you writhed on Frankie’s lap, desperate to feel his mouth where you needed it the most. He looked up at you, cocking his eyebrow and giving you a devilish grin before ghosting his hot breath over your center and starting over at your left knee. Frankie’s hands cupped your breasts and he pinched your pebbled nipples between his calloused fingers. Your back arched off of him, exposing the sweat slicked skin of your neck to his mouth. He placed a kiss to your jawline at the same time Santi’s kisses had made their way up to your inner thigh. You groaned loudly when he stopped just short.

“You gotta ask nicely, baby,” he said with a smirk.

“Santi…” you whined, “Please.” You were breathless and desperate; a sweaty mess begging for him to put his mouth on you. Your hands found his thick curls and you gave them a sharp tug.

“Please,” you repeated. There was a little more of a commanding edge to your tone now.

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, exchanging a glance with Frankie. He shifted a little and spread your legs further apart so that he could get a good look at you. He drew in a sharp breath as his eyebrows knit together and his face contorted in pleasure.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “Look at you. So fucking beautiful.”

With that, his mouth was on you. He found your clit immediately and latched on, the pleasure from the suction causing your hips to buck against him. His hand landed on your stomach, holding you in place as he continued. He brought one finger up to tease at your entrance before expertly circling his tongue around your clit. You bit down on the back of your hand to stifle the moan that threatened to escape your throat. Frankie gently pulled your hand away and laced his fingers with yours by his side.

“Let us hear you, baby,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. You whimpered as he pinched your nipple, drawing another moan from the back of your throat. “That’s it… We wanna know how good we’re making you feel.”

Santi hummed against you in agreement and the vibration sent a shock wave through your body as he slid one thick finger inside of you and curled it upwards. You arched your back and cried out, the sound broken. His laugh was low and dark and he pushed another finger inside of you and latched onto your clit. You bucked at the sensation of fullness and Frankie’s hand came down hard against your middle to hold you in place, his hand gripping the fingers that Santi had splayed across your stomach earlier to hold you down. You began to ride his fingers in earnest as Frankie bit down on your neck with more force than you’d experienced from him so far. You moaned as you watched Santi’s grip on Frankie’s hand tighten but then you were lost to the sight of his other hand disappearing inside of you. You writhed against Frankie, grinding against his cock and savoring the groan it pulled from him. You reached down for the back of Santi’s shirt and yanked, tugging it over his head gracelessly. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his naked chest. His pecs were defined and shadows danced across his abs before falling over the sharp vee that disappeared under the low slung waistband of his jeans. He smirked at the appreciative look in your eyes before diving back in and devouring your pussy like a starving man.

“God, baby. You’re doing so good,” Frankie groaned as his hands explored any part of your body he could reach from beneath you. He was peppering your neck and shoulder with kisses in between tender praises. You had reached one hand back to tangle your fingers in his hair and the other had Santi’s curls in a vice grip as you guided him against you. You were soaked with sweat, but the chill from the fan and the overwhelming sensation of Santi’s tongue working you had your skin covered in goosebumps. He sucked hard on your clit, grazing it lightly with his teeth, and added a third finger. The combination was overwhelming and had you gasping for breath. He twisted his fingers and light exploded behind your eyes, your orgasm ripping through you and making your back arch. Frankie’s hand came to rest over your heart, holding you against him as you came down from your high.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Frankie said with reverence as he brushed the hair out of your face. You were sure that you were just a sweaty mess at this point but the look in his eyes made you feel incredible.

“So beautiful,” Santi agreed as he lifted himself from the floor with a small grunt of effort. He reached down and rubbed at his knees, his face scrunched between concentration and pain. You looked back at Frankie with a question in your eyes as he leaned forward to press a kiss against your temple.

“He’s got bad knees. The military wrecked ‘em,” he said in a low voice, as not to alert Santi, who was still massaging his kneecaps. The sight made your chest clench and you slid to the floor in front of him, his eyes going wide. You lightly ran your hands over his legs, gently applying pressure to the spots that seemed to be bothering him. He groaned in relief and let his head fall back against his shoulders. You felt Frankie’s fingers tangle in your hair and you took it as encouragement to continue, massaging higher up on his thighs than strictly necessary. You felt Santi’s eyes on you as you began to unfasten the button on his jeans. His mouth fell open as you tugged on the material, letting his black boxer briefs fall along with them. His cock sprang free, hard and thick and glistening at the tip. You leaned forward and licked from base to tip, drawing a choked moan from deep in his chest. Suddenly his hands were under your arms and he jerked you to standing.

“Bed,” he growled and the sound went straight to your core. You jerked your chin towards your bed and he swatted your ass and ground out a command to go. You obeyed but held out a hand to Frankie. He wrapped his fingers in yours and rose off the couch, pulling you back against his chest and making the walk to the other side of the studio more difficult but lovely. You laughed as he fake growled against your neck, feeling his smile spread wide against your skin. Santi prowled after you and the sight killed the laughter in your throat, replacing it with something that felt a little dangerous. He met the two of you at the foot of the bed but before he could grab for you, you stepped out of his reach and behind him. You stood on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his neck, nibbling lightly at the skin behind his ear. His hand found your thigh and squeezed as you sucked a bruise on his skin.

“I think Frankie needs some help out of those jeans,” you whispered against the skin of his neck. His head whipped back to look at you but whatever he saw in your eyes must have convinced him that you were serious. He squared his shoulders and crossed the small space separating him from his friend and looked up to meet his gaze. Frankie hadn’t taken his eyes off you but Santi caught his nod and pushed the shirt from his shoulders. You shivered as it fluttered to the floor and Santi reached for the button on Frankie’s jeans, undoing it with practiced ease and pushing the material down his trim hips.

When he stood in nothing but his boxers Santi reached for the waistband, tucking his fingers under the elastic and pulling Frankie closer before pushing them down his legs to puddle on the floor. Frankie stepped out of the pile of clothes but before he strode towards you he paused and approached Santi, leaning in and gently nuzzling his cheek with his nose. The sight knocked the air from your lungs, simultaneously domestic and the most erotic thing you’d ever seen. At the same time they turned to face you, twin looks of hunger on their handsome faces.

You sauntered over and appraised them both for a moment, making note of the way the dim light played across their faces. Cupping one hand around the back of Frankie’s neck, you pulled him down for a kiss. With the other hand, you reached over and grabbed Santi’s, pulling him to stand behind you so that you could grind yourself against him. Frankie’s knees were against the edge of the bed already, so you gently guided him down and told him to lie back. He did as he was instructed, propping his head up on his arms so that he could watch as you wrapped both hands around his cock and gave him a few pumps. With a playful wiggle of your ass, you tossed a mischievous look over your shoulder to Santi. Getting the message, he stepped up and grabbed your hips before using one hand to line himself up with your entrance and rubbing soothing circles at the base of your spine with the other.

You turned your attention back to Frankie and gave him a wink before taking him as far into your mouth as you could. A sinful moan erupted from his chest as he tossed his head back against the bed in pleasure, his back arching softly. You held him there until tears formed at your eyes and you gagged, pulling off of him as a trail of saliva connected your lips to his dick. Frankie dared to look back down at you just as you swirled your tongue over the tip and hollowed your cheeks, taking him in a few more inches. Santi had begun to slide the head of his cock through your wet folds and slapped it once against your clit for good measure, making you yelp. As he teased himself at your entrance, you gripped the base of Frankie’s dick in your hand and licked the underside before you took just the head between your lips again.

“You ready for me, baby?” you heard Santi ask from behind you. You gave a nod of agreement as Frankie’s hand came up to gently grip your hair. He held you still, his eyes flicking back and forth between your face and Santi’s intently as Santi lined himself up and slowly pressed into you. Your eyes went wide from the pleasure before closing as you felt Frankie begin to slowly lower your mouth back down onto his cock. You moaned when you realized that he was trying to time it perfectly with Santi sheathing himself inside of you. Slowly, you began to stretch around Santi’s thick cock and had taken as much of Frankie’s as possible. When Santi bottomed out inside of you, he hit that sweet spot that made you see stars and you couldn’t stop the cry that bubbled up from your throat. The vibration of your throat around his dick nearly sent Frankie into a tailspin and it was all he could do to stop himself from fucking up into your mouth.

As Santi began to slowly pull out of you, Frankie gently used your hair to pull you off inch-by-inch. The two of them set a rhythm; Santi was slowly pumping in and out of you as Frankie helped you bob up and down on his dick. Their movements were slow and deliberate, wanting to drag this pleasure out as long as they could while making sure that you were still enjoying yourself. Santi gathered a little bit of the slick running down your thigh onto his thumb and brought it up to your exposed ass. As he gently swirled it around the sensitive puckered area, you began to buck against his hand. He took that as a sign to keep it up and applied gentle pressure before fully inserting the tip of his finger inside. He let out a strained groan as he felt your walls clench around him at this new sensation of fullness.

You gasped both for pleasure and for air as you lifted your face off of Frankie’s dick. Gripping the base with one hand, you used the other to spread your saliva and pump him rhythmically. You were full-on fucking yourself back against Santi; meeting him thrust for thrust as you felt another orgasm building in your belly. The indecent squelching sounds of your hands on Frankie’s cock, the slapping of your skin against Santi’s hips, and a trio of moans were filling the room and drowning out Clapton’s melodic guitar coming from the radio.

“Santi, baby,” you gasped, tossing your head back in ecstasy. “That feels so fucking good.”

“Santiago,” you heard him growl from behind you. “Christ… call me Santiago.”

“ Santiago… ” You moaned his name, loving the way it felt in your mouth and looked back over your shoulder to catch his gaze as he pounded into you. As soon as his full name fell from your lips, a broken moan escaped through his and his face contorted in pleasure. His pace quickened and his trusts became sloppy, hitting the sensitive spot inside of you every time he bottomed out. Just as you were sure you were about to crash over the edge, Santi pulled himself out of you completely, gripping hard at the base of his cock as he took a step backward.

“Sorry, baby. Fuck… I was too close and I’m not finished with you yet,” he panted through heaving breaths. You cried out in frustration, letting your head fall limp, only to be pulled up onto the bed by Frankie’s strong arms.

He captured your lips in a desperate kiss as his hips bucked up into nothing underneath you. When he broke the kiss, you met his warm brown eyes with your own. He smiled up at you as he brushed a piece of hair back behind your ear and he tugged down on your hips so that your soaked center was pressed up against him.

“I think,” he said as he pressed another kiss to your lips. “That it might be my turn now.”

You grinned down at him, placing both hands on his shoulders and lifting your torso so that you were positioned over the tip of his cock. You felt it pulse against you as you began to slowly rock your hips into his. You bent down slightly to place a sweet kiss to the bump of his nose and brush away a few tendrils of hair that had stuck to the sweat on his forehead.

“You know what I think?” you asked as you quickened the pace of your hips. “I think that you were such a good boy waiting your turn while Santi had his fun, that you deserve to be rewarded. Don’t you agree, Santi?”

“Mhmm,” he groaned as he bent over to press a kiss to your cheek, nipping softly at your skin. He walked over to the other side of the bed and laid back against the pillows as he began to lazily stroke himself. “I think you should show my boy Fish here a good time while I enjoy the view.”

You beamed down at Frankie who was staring up at you with wide eyes, trying to anticipate your next move. You gently lifted your hips, reaching a hand down to grip the base of his cock and slide it through your folds. You felt Frankie’s breath hitch in his chest as his eyes fluttered closed and his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips. You teased him like that for a few more moments before softly getting his attention.

“Frankie,” you cooed. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, his eyes opened and found yours. You pressed the tip of his cock against your slick entrance and pushed back slightly, causing him to gasp and close his eyes once more.

“Frankie,” you said with a bit more bite. “I said, keep your eyes on me.”

A whine escaped his lips, but he obeyed. This time, his eyes never left yours as you slowly sank down onto him; mouth agape as every glorious inch of him stretched you further than anyone ever had before. When you were fully seated on him, you leaned down to meet his lips in a brief kiss. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead against his, the two of you passing the same moan back and forth through open mouths as you slowly began to rock your hips. You could hear Santi panting as he took all of this in, his hand now stroking his cock at a quicker pace. Frankie’s hands were still tightly gripping your hips as he guided them back and forth, loving the way you stretched around his width.

When the feeling of Frankie filling you was no longer painful, you sat yourself back up; your hands reclaiming their spot on either of his shoulders. This new angle pushed Frankie further inside of you and the tip of his dick immediately found your g-spot. Desperate for the internal friction, you began to circle your hips in place and savored how absolutely wrecked Frankie looked beneath you. Soft expletives escaped his lips as he tipped his head back in bliss. There was a loud crack as Frankie’s hand came down on your left ass cheek. You cried out in pleasure, but Frankie couldn’t tell the difference yet between that and a sound of pain. His eyes immediately found yours as his hand soothed the growing red spot.

“I’m sorry. Was that ok?” he asked, his concern genuine.

“Fuck yes, Frankie. That was-” you couldn’t even get the sentence out before his left hand cracked against your right ass cheek, causing you to yelp. Just as he had with the other side, his hand immediately began to soothe the sting out of the mark. “God! You feel so good.”

A strangled noise came from the head of the bed and you looked up to find that Santi was once again tightly gripping the base of his cock to stop his impending release. His head was tilted back against the headboard and his bottom lip was pulled tight over his teeth. Your mouth watered at the sight of the muscles in his neck flexing with the effort to not cum while he watched you ride his best friend senseless. Your breathless panting of his name was enough to bring his attention back to where you were riding Frankie.

“I’m trying real hard to hold out for you, baby,” he chuckled. “But I’m gonna need Fish to hurry up and make you cum so I can fuck that tight little ass of yours.”

As if he had been waiting for Santi’s permission, Frankie’s hand quickly found the space where your bodies were joined and began to rub tight circles around your clit. You leaned back, bracing your hands against the tops of his thighs so that he could have a better angle on it. He began to quickly fuck himself up into you as your moans pitched higher, signaling that you were close. When you knew you were there, you suddenly pulled yourself off of his dick and his fingers followed, never losing contact with your clit as he pressed harder. Your whole body wracked with pleasure as you gushed onto Frankie’s throbbing cock, soaking him and the sheets as your thighs shook from the strain of holding you up through your release. Frankie pulled you down into a kiss, gently rolling you over so that he was on top of you and staring down into your eyes.

When he pulled away, he placed a kiss to the tip of your nose and brushed the hair back from your forehead before placing another gentle kiss there. You held on to him as the aftershocks of your second release shook through your body and you felt yourself start to giggle. You couldn’t believe you had just made a mess all over your new sheets, but you’d be damned if that wasn’t one of the most mind-blowing orgasms you’d ever had. No man had ever successfully made you do that before, though many had tried.

“Damn, baby. You sure did make a mess,” Frankie chuckled as he stared down at you, a mixture of awe and lust on his face. There was a hint of concern in his eyes still, as if he was worried he had been too rough with you. “Are you alright? Do you need us to give you a minute? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You smiled as you bit down on your lower lip, shaking your head at him. You tangled your hands in his hair and brought his lips down to yours for a brief moment before guiding him down your neck and between the swell of your breasts. Your breath caught in your chest as his soft beard tickled against the skin of your stomach and he made his way to the top of your mound.

“Is it ok if I-?” he looked up at you with yearning eyes and you felt your stomach twist in adoration. “I just want to taste you.”

“It’s ok, Frankie” you said gently, your hands still tangled in the curls on top of his head. You scooted yourself back a little so that your head was propped on Santi’s chest and you could have a better view. You untangled one hand from his hair and reached beside you to wrap it around Santi’s painfully hard cock. You began to pump it lazily as Frankie licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, gathering your slick on his tongue and audibly groaning in pleasure at the taste of you. You turned your head towards Santi whose eyes were glued to where Frankie’s face was buried between your thighs and licked your lips at the look of concentration on his face. You released your grip on his cock and reached up to soothe the lines on his brow, smiling when he finally met your eyes.

“Kiss me, Santiago” you murmured and your eyes fluttered closed. Frankie sucked hard on your clit as Santi leaned down to meet your mouth, gently biting your lower lip and swallowing your moan as he demanded access. His touch was less frenzied now, more gentle than you thought him capable of as his hand cupped your face and held you still against him. You were overwhelmed in the moment, tears threatening to spill, as you realized the three of you were a complete circuit; Frankie making you tremble with his surprisingly aggressive tongue and hands still latched to your cunt and Santi rubbing his thumbs sweetly across your cheeks while he kissed you senseless.

A snarl from Frankie caught your attention, the sound out of character for him, and you clenched around his fingers. Your back arched off the bed, and you felt his hand crash down on your stomach to hold you in place. The pace his fingers set was almost brutal and you felt your juices sliding down your thighs; combined with his spit you were absolutely soaked. His fingers moved away from your entrance, replaced by his tongue, and you felt him probe against your ass. You spread your legs father, bending at the knees, at the sensation and moaned into Santi’s mouth. Slowly, Frankie pushed one thick finger inside you. Part of you wanted to crawl away from the invasion but the rest of you shuddered at the idea of being able to have both of them inside you at the same time.

Frankie’s face lifted from your folds and he placed a kiss against your inner thigh, nuzzling your skin there.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said even as the look in eyes told you he wanted to tear you apart. You smiled down at him and ran a hand through his sweaty curls. You tapped Santi’s chest with your other hand to get his attention and pointed at the small bedside table. He caught your drift and opened the drawer, plucking out a small bottle of lube and handed it down to Frankie who immediately spread over both of your holes. His eyes never left yours as he pressed back into your ass, groaning when your mouth dropped open in a silent scream. He stretched you slowly and you could see the effort it took to not just fuck you with his fingers. You were grateful that he took the time to prepare you for what came next.

Minutes felt as if they stretched on forever and suddenly Santi’s hands were under your arms, pulling you on top of him; your back flush against his chest. His breathing was harsh in your ear as he shifted his hips to line up with your ass. Frankie leaned over you, caging you in with his strong arms as he leaned down to push his tongue in your mouth. You could taste yourself, tangy and sweet, on his lips and you reached up to pull him closer. Santi growled, low and long behind you. You realized Frankie had reached down between your legs and gripped his friend’s cock, his hands shiny with lube to make his entrance easier, and lined him up against you. Santi nudged you with the head of his cock and your body’s natural reaction was to buck up and off of him but Frankie held you fast as Santi slid home inch by divine inch. You shouted at the new feeling of fullness.

“You’re so beautiful,” Frankie rasped and his eyes devoured you.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Santi ground out from behind you as he began to thrust in earnest, dragging a short scream from you as he bottomed out. “I can’t believe I get to fuck this tight little ass.”

He had one hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head to the side so he could bite and suckle at the skin of your neck, the other grasping at your breast as he desperately snapped his hips against you. You were making no effort to quiet your moans as you writhed against Santi, loving how full he made you feel.

Frankie’s thumb had been rubbing tight circles on your clit as he slowly pumped himself in his free hand. He tapped Santi on the hip gently, signalling for him to slow his pace so he could line himself up with your entrance. An animalistic groan escaped his chest as he sheathed himself inside of you slowly, overcome with the feeling of your tight walls surrounding him. You cried out as you clenched around him, nearly toppling over the edge at the sensation of being stretched to your limit by the both of them. Frankie was in heaven; you had felt fantastic around him before, but this was pure bliss. Santi was still thrusting in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace and Frankie could feel every glorious inch of his friend filling you up. It was almost too much for him to take as he looked down at the wrecked face of his best friend.

You looked up at him, noticing how he wasn’t looking at you but rather, how he couldn’t take his eyes off of Santi. You saw how his eyes flicked down to Santi’s mouth as he licked his own lips. You knew what he wanted, but you didn’t think he’d have the guts to do it on his own. With a whisper of his name, you pulled him down into a soft kiss. As he began to moan against your lips, you turned your head slightly making sure he knew to follow you. With a steady hand at the nape of his neck, you pushed his face towards Santi’s. They paused, staring at each other with a million questions in their eyes as they tentatively bumped noses. You clenched around them and that was all it took.

Their mouths were on each other in an instant, all clashing teeth and soft moans as they both began pumping in and out of you again. As Frankie tangled a hand in Santi’s hair, you wrapped your arms around his back, digging your nails into his shoulders and sucking bruises along the length of his neck. Their moans getting more desperate by the second, they began to set a bruising pace and each of them had managed to hit spots inside of you that sent white-hot bolts of electricity through your body.

You knew you would have bruises on your hips where Santi was gripping you. His hips snapped against your ass, the feeling of his cock dragging against Frankie’s made you see stars. You felt stretched to your limit, completely stuffed, and nothing had ever compared to this feeling of absolute fullness. Frankie had thrown your legs over his shoulders and quickened his pace as Santi’s thrusts began to go erratic. You knew he was about to fall over the edge and you clenched purposefully around them.

“Fuck!” Santi shouted as one hand came up to wrap around your throat and hold you in place.

“Cum for me, Santiago,” you murmured as you turned your face towards him for a kiss. He captured your lips with his as he growled and stiffened, becoming impossibly hard inside of your ass. On a whim Frankie reached down between you and cupped his hand around Santi’s balls, giving a gentle squeeze and coaxing his orgasm from him. Heat bloomed through your core and Santi came, shouting your name and biting down hard on your neck; filling you with his cum. He stilled inside of you; his breath coming in hot puffs against your skin as he struggled to come down. His tongue laved over the mark he’d left on your skin before gently kissing it with a smile. His eyes traveled over your body, flushed and beginning to show the bruises of their hands all over you, and up to Frankie’s face as he reached down and began to rub lazy circles over your clit. He pulled your ear lobe between his teeth and bit down gently.

“Call him Francisco,” he whispered, for you only, as he pinched your clit and made you cry out, your orgasm creeping closer and threatening to wash over you

Frankie’s face screwed up in concentration as he watched Santi rub against you, the feeling of you clenching on his cock was almost too much. He reached one hand down to rest gently against your throat, squeezing slightly as he tried to gauge your reaction. When he saw a flash of excitement in your eyes, he continued thrusting into you as he felt you growing tighter around him. His free hand laced his fingers with one of yours as he brought your knuckles to his lips.

“Let go, baby,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

A few more brushes of his cock against your g-spot was all it took and, as he relaxed his hand around your neck, you crashed over the edge with a gasp. All of the blood rushed back to your head and your muscles tensed as you clenched down onto the both of them. Frankie groaned as your walls fluttered around him; the clench of your ass making Santi cry out from the overstimulation. You held onto Frankie’s shoulders for dear life as the aftershocks coursed through you and he gently fucked you through them. When you had finally caught your breath you pushed him back slightly so that you could look into his eyes.

“You’ve been such a patient boy… I think it’s time that we let you cum. How does that sound?” you asked as you lightly dragged your nails along his back. Frankie choked back a broken sob as he thrust into you; bottoming out and holding himself inside of you for a second. Your hands found his ass and you began to slowly circle your hips as you dug your nails into the soft flesh. You guided Frankie in and out of you gently as he began to stiffen, something you took as a sign that he was close. Heeding Santi’s advice, you began to hum beneath him.

“That’s right, baby,” you panted against his open mouth. “Cum for me, Francisco.”

The sound of his full name on your lips was enough to push him over the edge. With a feral growl, Frankie began to snap his hips into yours ferociously as he chased his own release. Your nails were digging into his ass now, surely leaving red, half-moon shaped indentations behind as you moved your arms up his back to brace against his shoulders. You stifled a cry as you bit down onto his shoulder, dragging your nails across his back as you clung to him in desperation. You clenched yourself around him as he stilled inside of you, crying out your name as he painted your walls with his release. You tangled your fingers in his hair, swallowing his cries with a kiss as his breathing returned to normal. Frankie eventually pulled away to lay his head on your chest as you played with his hair.

The three of you laid like that for a few minutes, none of you willing to break contact with each other while both men began to soften inside of you. Frankie’s right thumb was drawing circles on the sensitive skin of your side as Santi’s left hand absentmindedly stroked the hair at your temple. Your hand that wasn’t currently lost in Frankie’s dark curls was tucked back over your head gently scratching at Santi’s beard. You couldn’t see it, but Frankie’s fingers were laced with Santi’s by your right side, their calloused thumbs stroking over each other’s knuckles in a tender gesture. You let out a contented sigh as you stared up at the ceiling; shaking your head in disbelief as the events of the night began to replay themselves in the darkness. You weren’t sure you’d believe it had really happened once the bruises the boys had left behind began to fade. There was no guarantee you would ever see them again. The idea made your heart clench and you shoved it violently from your mind, instead focusing on their breathing and the slowing of your heart rate.

You eventually extracted yourselves from each other’s embrace to begin the cleanup process. After you returned from the bathroom the boys made you stay in the bed as they shuffled around your apartment, returning moments later with warm washcloths. Frankie cleaned you up first, then turned his attention to himself. Santi brought you his t-shirt to sleep, gently tugging it over your head and smiling when it settled over your frame. Frankie had pulled on his boxers and crawled back into bed, pulling back the covers and inviting you to lie down with him. The three of you settled back into your bed, reveling in the comfort of each other’s arms before you drifted off into sleep.

You awoke long before the sun, warm and boneless. You were pressed against Santi, your head resting on his chest and your arm wrapped around him. His face was relaxed in sleep, easing away those hard lines that added an edge to his handsome features. Frankie was pressed flush against your back, his breath warm on your neck and his arm draped over your middle. You looked down to find his fingers still intertwined with Santi’s and the sight was so sweet it made you ache.

“Go ‘sleep,” you heard Frankie slur from behind you and you chuckled before wiggling against him and settling back into a doze.

When you awoke again about an hour later, you stretched and found yourself with too much room in the bed. The sheets were still warm from their bodies but Frankie and Santi were nowhere to be found. You moaned and made to sit up when a large hand pressed against your shoulder and pushed you back into the nest of pillows.

“You go back to sleep, baby. We have to go to work,” Frankie whispered as he leaned in and pressed his warm mouth to yours. You whimpered as he lightly brushed his tongue against your lips. It seemed to physically pain him to pull away from you but then Santi was there, filling the empty space. His eyes seemed to bore into you, looking into your soul, and you were trapped there. He put his hand behind your head and pulled you in for a kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth and dominating you before your sleep addled brain could even catch up. You were breathless when he pulled away.

“Be good,” was all he said before got up and followed Frankie from the room, closing the door with a soft click. You fell back against the pillows with a sigh, your muscles sore and weak and your heart fluttering, when you heard something crinkle under your hand.

You rolled and reached for the pillow next to you and found a folded slip of paper.

Now that I know what it’s like to hold you, I don’t wanna let you go. We’ll be gone for three days, but can be reached at this number if there’s an emergency. See you soon, baby. - Francisco

You clutched the paper to your chest and pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, praying that last night was not just a one off. You pulled the collar of Santi’s t-shirt to your nose, inhaling his scent and committing it to memory. You didn’t know how you would manage it but you refused to let either of them go.

Seven days later:

The wind whipped around them and it was a marvel that Will was able to sleep through it. Benny had run off to scope out the situation at the beach. Santi’s eyes were glued to the shape of Tom’s body, wrapped in cloth and laying a few feet away from the group. He began clenching and unclenching his fists as he stared sightlessly. Frankie sat next to him, their shoulders pressed together, as much for comfort as for escape from the elements.

“I…” Santi started before his words died in his throat. Frankie leaned away just far enough to wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him close.

“I know,” he said with a grimace, his eyes roving over Santi’s haunted face before landing on Tom’s still form. He reached up and cupped Santi’s face in his hand, tucking him into the space between his neck and shoulder and stoically ignoring the shaking of his friend’s shoulders. He began to run his fingers through his hair, hoping to bring him any measure of comfort.

“Do you think…” Santi started to ask before stopping himself and looking towards Will, asleep against the rocks.

“Do I think what, Pope?” Frankie asked softly.

“Will we ever see her again?” he asked, voice catching on the last word. He wrapped his arms around Frankie’s waist, pulling him closer and settling his face into his friend’s strong chest.

The uncertainty and pain in his voice made Frankie pause before he answered. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Santi’s hair.

“I’m gonna do everything in my power to make sure we get out of here alive,” he said with a firm tone, his conviction wrapping around Santi and settling in his chest.

“Yeah, I know you will, Fish.” Santi responded with a small nod and a sniff. Bringing his lips back to Santi’s hairline, Frankie continued.

“As soon as we do, we’ll find her.”

#frankie morales #santiago garcia #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santi x reader x frankie #ot3 #repost #let me follow #tango in the night #the fic that really put us on the map tbh #that's my best friend #collab #our writing #my writing

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prolix-yuy · 2 years

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LJ's 500 Follower Requests!

This celebration is complete, enjoy all the stories!

The Debt: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

@fuckyeahdindjarin: Pero Tovar (continued from this drabble), Companionship as Salvation

Home: Dieter Bravo x OC F!Reader

@hnt-escape: Dieter Bravo (from Below the Line), Wild Card

Negotiations: Max Phillips x F!Reader

@browneyes-issac: Max Phillips, Immortality

Phantom: Ezra x Original Female Character

@the-blind-assassin-12: Ezra, Emptiness of Attaining a False Dream

Flight Plan: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (from Sex Worker!Frankie AU)

@lowlights: Wild Card, Fear of Failure

The First Ever Touch: Din Djarin x F!Reader (from the I Think of You Series)

@pedrito-friskito, Din Djarin, Companionship as Salvation

In Print: Ezra & F!Reader

@littleferal, Ezra, Immortality

Coming Due: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

@blackirisesinthesunlight, Pero, Everlasting Love

The Road Behind: Eventual Javier Peña x F!Reader

@beecastle, Javier Peña, Heroism (Real and Perceived)

The Road Ahead: Javier Peña x F!Reader

@iamskyereads, Javier Peña, Reunion and The Power of Words

My Bluebell Song: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader

@marvelouslyme96, Jack Daniels, Reunion

Legacy: Din Djarin x Original F!Character

@chaoticgeminate, Din Djarin, Identity Crisis

Two Truths and a Lie: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

@aynsleywalker, Jack and/or Marcus, Chaos and Order

Burn in My Bloodstream: Din Djarin x Xi'an

@amban-rifle, Heartbreak of Betrayal

#lj's 500 follower celebration #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x f!reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x f!reader #bloodsucking bastards fanfiction #max phillips x f!reader #prospect fanfiction #ezra prospect x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction

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littleferal · 2 years

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Lissie's Writers' Iron Chef #5 Masterlist

[PROMPT] Song lyrics from Jacob Banks’ “Devil That I Know” “And oh, what a way to die, Standing eye to eye, Pretending we’re alive as we grow colder And oh, the devil that I know, Is better than the devil that I don’t”

Prompt here

Completed challenges below. If I have missed your post please don't hesitate to tell me and I'll add you on :)

@something-tofightfor joel miller x f!reader, here

@the-blind-assassin-12 frankie morales x f!reader, here

@prolix-yuy the thief “casillero del diablo” x original female character, here

#lissie’s writers’ iron chef #writers' iron chef #writers' iron chef 5

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redahlia-writes · 1 year

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you make loving fun. | frankie morales x ofc

one. you make loving fun (sweet wonderful you)

content (for this chapter): smut, drinking, bad jokes and flirting, cursing, fluff, some insecurities (both frankie and camila), child surprise (not a pregnancy fic), general softness, mentions of food, some lengthy prose

word count: 9.1k

a/n: she is here. i've wanted to write something inspired by fleetwood mac for so long and frankie (alongside @lcvenderblues meddling, ily) just lends himself so well for it. as i've mentioned in the series notes, this was supposed to be shorter but, in true me fashion, not only did it turn into a never-ending thing, i also somehow ended up with camila (whom i love dearly). so there you have it. i'm also currently without a beta reader so if you see mistakes just... pretend you didn't

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

series masterlist | masterlist

“We didn’t necessarily do things the proper way–Will would say we actually did them backwards, which I think is just partially true, I’m not giving you the satisfaction, Miller. You see, when I first met Frankie we didn’t say a single word to each other for exactly three minutes and thirty-four seconds–and I know that, because that’s the exact duration of You Make Loving Fun. Technically, the first thing I said to him was Sweet wonderful you, and after all this time I still stand by those words. We could’ve done things in order, we could’ve done everything scrambled through whatever amount of time, but the result would still be the same–Francisco, my sweet wonderful you, you really do make loving fun.”

Frankie couldn’t remember the last time he’d belted out to a single song while driving–if he drove alone, the music would be loud and he would just keep the rhythm by tapping the steering wheel or nodding his head, never taking his eyes off the road; if somebody else was with him, there would either be no music or he’d just feel too self-conscious to sing.

Yet there he was, a drop too much of tequila in him (in the morning he would chastise himself for the rashness of his actions), windows down and music high, singing his heart out with a woman he’d just met at his side, her hair whipping wildly in the wind, McVie’s bass making the speakers of his car tremble.

He hadn’t planned any of it–he was meant to go to the bar, have a drink, maybe two, and then go back home and fall asleep on the couch with a movie he wasn’t even interested in. But he’d turned in his seat as You Make Loving Fun by Fleetwood Mac had started, and met the eyes of this woman–dark hair, big smile–who, pointing directly at him, had started singing and beckoned him forward. He wished to pretend it had been the beer’s fault, making him stand almost immediately, but truth was he was completely enthralled by her.

Frankie had danced with her as she sang along with the song, her hands in his, her body warm against his–they’d kissed before knowing each other’s names, her own shouted into his ear: Camila. He’d laughed, offered to buy her a drink, two, three, the conversation flowing so easily they’d found themselves moving outside for a smoke, and then to his car, where she’d seen the Rumors album tucked in a compartment of the car and her eyes had lit up.

He hadn’t thought he’d end up bringing somebody home, but her enthusiasm had warmed his chest, and suddenly he found himself kissing that smile off her lips as they stumbled into his house tangled together, shedding shoes and jackets through the corridor until they fell into bed.

She huffed a breath when he landed on top of her, laughter bubbling in her chest as she pulled back from the kiss and regained her breath, raking her hands through his hair while he lifted his head and, wide-eyed, looked down at her flushed face.

“Sorry,” he muttered, arms bracketing her head, as he lifted himself off of her, kneeling between her parted thighs–he lowered his gaze to where her dress had bunched up around her hips, uncovering her legs and giving him a peek of her underwear. He shook his head, cleared his throat, and when he looked back up a grin crossed her lips. “You alright?”

“Being crushed under someone’s weight was not how I imagined I’d go,” she snorted, hands falling to his shoulders, down to the front of his button up–it was already wrinkled from her touch, and as she thumbed a button he arched his eyebrows and lowered one hand to her skin, fingers brushing across her exposed collarbones.

“That’s a bit dramatic,” goosebumps crossed her skin in the wake of his touch, smile still pulling at her lips. He lowered his head into the crook of her neck, lips brushing her pulse point–he felt her heart jump under his mouth and grinned against her skin. “Feels like you’re alive to me.”

She laughed again, the sound making Frankie’s smile widen, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses down her neck, throat, chest, following the path he’d traced with his fingers down to the neckline of her dress and then further down, across the wrinkled fabric, her back arching as he moved down and down and down, a shuddering breath making her chest heave.

His hands followed, a too brief touch over her chest, cupping her breasts before moving to her hips, pulling the dress further up until her stomach was exposed and he could kiss the bare skin there, right above the waistband of her underwear as he caressed down her thighs, pulling them up slightly, parting her legs furthermore to slot himself with his shoulders underneath her knees.

His shoulders had been the first thing she’d noticed in the blinking lights of the bar, broad and constricted by his shirt, tugging at the top button she’d undone while they were dancing with a grin–he’d lifted his arms at some point, shirt riding up his stomach and giving her a peek of a sliver of skin. She’d thought about kissing the skin there, just as he was doing with her, the gentle scratch of his beard making her shiver.

“You don’t have to -” she gasped when he nipped her inner thigh, hips lifting off the bed with a curse muttered between her teeth that had him chuckle and look up.

“Where would the fun be in that?” he kissed her thigh again, moving slightly up as he hooked his arms around her legs and placed his hands above her hips. “Let me make it good for you, baby.”

A shudder of anticipation ran down her spine at his almost-request that had her flushing and push herself onto her elbows–she barely shifted over the bed, his hands keeping her pinned down.

“Is that the tequila talking, Francisco?” he grinned as she reached down, tracing his jaw with the tip of her fingers before pinching his chin gently, angling his head as if to lean over and kiss him. He liked the way she said his name, r rolling off her tongue, hissing s, hard c.

“A little,” he admitted, thumbs playing with the hem of her dress. He wasn’t drunk to the point of not remembering anything the following morning, but just enough to act cocksure. “But I mean it–only if you want to.”

Camila bit down on her bottom lip, another rush of excitement running through her–between the dancing, the drinking and Frankie’s kisses, every single part of her felt aflame. She dragged her thumb across the seam of his mouth, his lips swollen and slightly red in the dim lights of the bedroom parting under her touch–his pupils dilated, eyes dark and expectant. When she nodded, a shimmer crossed his gaze, and after kissing the palm of her hand he lowered his head between her thighs, pulling her gently closer to him–Frankie was eager, and with a loud sigh she fell back onto the pillows.

His lips never wandered too far from the soft skin of her inner thighs, peppering gentle kisses as he tugged her underwear down, parting just enough to expose her–the cooler air of the room hit her core right before he bowed his head, a kiss to her mound that had her eyes flutter shut. Pinning her hips down, Frankie pressed the flat of his tongue against her slit, and the moan that ran up her spine at his first taste of her made her shudder, hands grasping for the covers at her sides.

Another muttered curse left her lips as he dragged his tongue up to the apex of her core, her legs threatening to close around his head when he nudged her clit–he kept her thighs apart, fingers digging into the flesh as he glanced up at her. She kept her lips parted, short bursts of air leaving her each time he repeated the motion, lapping again and again, his tongue coated in her slick to the point he couldn’t feel the aftertaste of alcohol anymore.

Her thighs burned where his beard dragged with the motions of his head, muscles trembling as he picked up his pace, the noises filling the room almost obscene–had she been a little more sober, she would’ve felt herself flush with embarrassment, granted she could get past how good he felt. When he wrapped his lips around her clit, she clenched around nothing and moved one hand into his hair, tugging onto the locks somewhere between pulling him away and pushing him closer.

He moaned in response to the burn across his scalp, the vibrations making her back arch off the bed–again he pinned her down, hand spreading across her stomach, her muscles tensing under his touch. He shifted his arms, one half-draped across her hips with his hand reaching up, past her belly and towards her chest, underneath the now ruined dress–the other tucked into his side, hand dipping between her legs.

“Jesus, Frankie,” she moaned his name when he pushed his digit inside her, a mix of spit and her own slick aiding his movement–one knuckle, two, her chest heaving and she pulled onto his hair again, his name falling like a chant from her lips. He lifted his head then, enough to get a glimpse of her face–eyes glossed over, she looked down towards him and trembled at the sight of his glistening lips.

“This alright?” his voice was raspier, a little hoarse, caressing the skin of her stomach like a ripple of warm water. She nodded, eagerly enough her hair ruffled all around her head, and rocked her hips slowly into his touch. He began pulling his hand back, the drag of his finger making her moan and drop her head back.

“Please,” with a sigh, her hand heavy on his head, she arched towards him–he lowered his mouth to her again, tongue flicking over her enlarged clit as he slowly sank two fingers back inside her.

Frankie’s pace was agonizing, alternating between curling and pumping his fingers, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Camila had the fleeting thought she could not remember the last time someone had made her feel so good, right before he curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot she never managed to reach on her own, and simultaneously sucked her clit–her vision flashed white as her legs locked around his head, orgasm washing over her with a broken moan of her own.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she muttered breathlessly, hands slowly reaching for her chest–her fingers interlocked with Frankie’s over her stomach as he pulled his head up, the hair locks she’d tugged at falling messily over his forehead as he chuckled, the tip of his tongue peeking between his glistening lips.

“Thank you?” he tilted his head slightly, cheek brushing her red-marked thigh as her legs eased from around his head, falling heavily still over his shoulders. She snorted, squeezing his hand and letting her eyes flutter shut as he shifted upwards.

With her free hand, she took hold of his shirt, tugging him up to her until she was kissing him again, bracketing his hips between bent legs as he leaned his weight on her once more, their joined hands moving up across her body, her skin warm even through the bunched up dress and his shirt.

Frankie rutted his hips into her when she licked into his mouth, a muffled moan as her whole body shuddered at the drag of his jeans growing too tight. She locked her thighs around his hips, belt digging into the soft, uncovered, already slightly reddened skin, and with the hand previously interlocked with his, she reached for his hair and tugged slightly.

He huffed out a surprised breath when he found himself on his back, both her hands now on his chest to push him fully down as she tilted her head, hair tumbling to the side as she left a trail of kisses down his patchy beard, his neck, button after button undone by deft fingers until his shirt fell open and she was kissing his chest, the room rocking slightly in his hazy vision. He bucked his hips again as she undid his belt.

“Top drawer,” buckle, button, zipper, some of the tightness against his bulge easing as his hands quickly fell to her uncovered knees, trailing up and up to sneak underneath the dress that had fallen back down her frame.

“What?” words slurred against his skin, she was kissing his shoulder, shrugging his shirt off fully as she did. He sighed heavily at her insistent kisses, at her fingertips dragging down his arms to bare him, the tickle of her unbound hair to his other shoulder and chest.

The last thing he wanted was for her to move away, so he wrapped one arm around her waist, pushing her close to him–in doing so, her knees slid up a little and she settled on his stomach as he shifted up across the bed, moving one hand away to reach for the nightstand, blindly grabbing a silver-wrapped condom, movements hasty and quick as she went back to kiss his neck, grinding down on him with soft whines. He followed the movements of her hips with his free hand spanning against her side, dress wrinkling under his touch.

Camila pulled away almost abruptly, a little gasp leaving her lips as she straightened her back with her hands resting on his chest–her fingers pushed gently into him to balance herself before reaching for the bunched up hem of her dress and pull it over her head, letting her hair fall right down over her shoulder.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” her hands once more resting on his chest, Frankie’s fingertips dragged up her side–knee, thigh, hip, waist, thumbing the soft skin underneath her breast and making her sigh softly, eyelids fluttering shut as a smile still pulled at her lips.

“‘Cause you look real pretty,” he shifted his hands past her legs to tug down the rest of his clothes, the movement making her lean her weight forward, fingers curling against his chest as she snorted–and felt her face heat up.

“Lights are off, Francisco,” she lowered her face to him, simultaneously lifting her hips from his as he kicked off his trousers and underwear almost impatiently, belt-buckle clicking somewhere on the floor over the edge of the bed.

“Would you like them on?” the sound of the foil ripping made her eyes wander downwards across his body–she licked her lips at the sight of his hard length, tip red and leaking resting against his stomach. “Mila,” he called her softly–so softly she shuddered, lowering her lips to his in a quick kiss.

“I don’t want you going anywhere,” with one hand cupping his chin, she spoke against his mouth, his lips parting to chase another kiss as he rolled the condom on, reaching to grab one of her hips right afterwards, slowly guiding her down.

Camila moaned into his mouth as the tip of his cock nudged her entrance, her legs parting a little more around his hips to give him more room as she sank further down his length. The stretch had her dig her fingers slightly into his cheeks, working his jaw open as he now gripped both her hips, steadying her movements.

“Fuck, it feels good,” between one kiss and the other, inch after inch, Camila began pulling her head back. “So good,” muttered over and over as she moved her hand down–Frankie felt the blunt edge of her nails across his neck, chest, fantasized about there being marks the day after. “You feel so good, Frankie,” she cried out his name as she straightened her back and sank fully down on him.

They remained still for a moment, panting as they both adjusted to the position, a slow, gentle grinding on her part as she tipped her head back, hands resting on his chest–Frankie’s heart felt like it was about to burst out of him and rest on her palms, the grip on her hips tightening as he groaned softly.

“Look at you,” he hummed, kneading her flesh as he pushed himself in a seated position–her hands slid from his chest to his shoulder to the back of his neck, again a gentle scratch that rose goosebumps in its wake. The shift of positions made her sigh heavily, eyes fluttering shut as she bit down on her bottom lip and her chest heaved, pressed flush against Frankie’s. “Tan hermosa,” he mouthed against her exposed throat, seconding the next rock of her hips with one of his arms wrapping around her lower back.

She squeezed around him at his words, tiny breathless gasps at his words and the push of his arm, her back arched and her thighs trembling again. One of her hands threaded through his hair, a tingle spreading across his scalp when she tugged on the strands–but she did not pull him away from her neck as he kept kissing her, tongue dragging across her collarbones, tasting the salt from her skin. He could stay like that the rest of the night, he thought, buried to the hilt inside of her, nursing hickey after hickey on her soft skin, listening to her uttered praises.

But then Camila began moving, rolling her hips once, twice, held back moans trapped in her throat each time she lowered herself fully onto him, taking on a rhythm that had stars shimmer at the edges of Frankie’s vision–he knew then, resting his free hand behind him for balance, digging his heels in the mattress, that he was not going to last long, the smooth drag of her walls up and down his length pulling him closer and closer to the edge.

When he snapped his hips up to meet her half-way, she stuttered, bowing her head until she was muffling a loud moan into the crook of his neck, movements suddenly erratic. Frankie repeated the motion, again, and again, and again, the arm around her hips keeping her in place as he fucked up into her, each thrust punching the air out of her with a low cry.

“C’mon, baby,” he tutted, nosing at her cheek. “Let me hear you. Let me hear you, I’m close, so fucking close, so–” he groaned when she picked up the rhythm again, half-moons craved by her nails into his shoulder and a louder moan leaving her. “Attagirl.”

Camila did not hold back after that, the encouragements he kept murmuring through kisses making her dizzy, making her stomach flutter–thighs trembling, her rhythm started to falter again, clenching around him.

“Can feel you–little more, baby, just a little more,” he moved his hand from her back to her hip, reaching with his thumb to the apex of her core. She gasped at his touch, the quick, small circles he drew over her clit as he twitched inside of her–her lips on his neck brought his orgasm forth, dragged it on until she stilled with a cry of his name.

She went heavy against him, hot, long breaths caressing his skin as she clung to him, and slowly he shifted back, bringing his arm around her waist again to keep her close, guiding her to lie down on top of him. She peppered his neck and shoulder with small kisses, brushing her hand through the hair on top of his head, each strand standing on edge under her touch.

“You keep doing that, you might just be the death of me,” he murmured, the sudden quiet broken only by their breathings. Camila chuckled, grazing her teeth against his neck–he tilted his head and gave her more space, her kiss lingering over his pulse point.

“Feels like you’re alive to me,” she echoed his words, and Frankie laughed, his whole body shaking with it. She placed one final kiss on his neck and he could feel the smile on her lips before she rolled onto his side, a sigh leaving her before she moved one hand to her hip.

“You alright?” he asked softly, turning his head towards her. Her eyes were closed, eyelashes brushing her flushed cheeks, and her lips were curved in a smile still, as she slowly rubbed down her upper thigh.

“Haven’t done this in a while,” she returned, and he brought his hand over hers, pressing down gently to massage her flesh. She sighed again, relieved, lowering her chin to his shoulder. “Just need a moment.”

“You can stay, it’s alright,” she flickered her gaze up at him, a few rapid blinkings before he leaned in, placing an almost ridiculously chaste kiss against her lips before pulling back. “I’ll be right back.”

She hummed softly, her eyes shutting right away as her hand fell to the empty space previously occupied by him, fingers curling as if seeking to hold onto the warmth he’d left behind. His gaze lingered a moment longer on her, the way her hair fell across the covers and around her head, soft waves now tangled. He didn’t need any brighter light to see how beautiful she was, her body curling up onto herself as her breath slowed down furthermore.

When he returned from the bathroom, mere moments later, the air in the room was heavy with the smell of sex, but underneath lingered that scent that had driven him wild from the bar–rosemary, fresh and pungent and somewhat familiar. Camila’s body was completely wrapped up in his covers, untucked and twisted from the bed, only the top of her head peeking from underneath, the whole thing shifting slowly in tandem with her breathing.

“Mila,” he called her name softly, just leaning against the edge of the bed with the towel he’d brought for her resting on his forearm. “You’re hogging all the covers,” he whispered with a smile, and a quiet groan left her–a noise of protest as she shifted and lifted one arm, uncovering herself and the empty side of the bed. All through it, she did not open her eyes.

Chuckling, he climbed by her side, leaving the towel on the nightstand and shifting close, until her warm skin touched his again. She dropped the covers and her arm back down, right across his chest, and bowed her head until her forehead was pressed to his shoulder, the other arm tangling with his, interlocking their hands together.

Frankie looked down towards her again, unable to help the delicate smile curling his lips, and ever so slowly leaning in to brush his lips to her forehead. She squeezed his hand at that–the only acknowledgment she managed to give other than another soft sigh, warm hair brushing down his shoulder. So he said nothing else–there was no need to–and just fixed the covers until she was fully covered. It didn’t even matter he was still partially uncovered, the sheets mostly tangled around her body instead–he was warm enough with her at his side.

When Frankie opened his eyes, he realized he’d slept all through the night without waking a single time–no nightmares, no fear for his child needing him all of a sudden, and the warmth radiating from the body next to him a comfort he hadn’t felt in a while. The morning sun filtered through the drawn curtains, hitting the lower edge of the bed with feeble rays, and though his head hurt terribly he forced his gaze to shift at his side.

He shouldn’t have drank that much–he wasn’t used to it anymore.

Camila had abandoned her curled up position during the night, shifting almost onto her front with one leg hooked over his, and her arm still draped across his chest, fingers extended towards where his farther hand was. The hand he’d fallen asleep holding was tucked under her chin, just above his shoulder, and was pushing upwards slightly, so that a pout formed on her lips–his own arm was stuck underneath her, a little numb, disappearing underneath her curtain of hair.

Her eyelids shifted as if chasing a dream, her breathing still even, and against his side Frankie could feel her heartbeat, regular and soothing. Shifting ever so slightly, he tried to angle his body to face her, but her arm tightened around him, and a groan of protest left her as she pushed herself closer, brows knitting in a frown that was immediately covered by her hair falling across her face.

“Sorry,” he murmured softly, mouth parched. He reached forward with his free hand, brushing the locks back and tucking them behind her ear. There was a smudge of mascara underneath her eye, and he cupped his hand over her cheek to rub at it gently. She hummed, leaning into his touch before slowly licking her lips, smacking them a couple of times.

“What time is it?” she blinked several times in his direction, frown returning until she cleared her vision and he came into focus, brown eyes wide that showed her smile before he glanced at her mouth. “Hi,” she whispered, almost breathless, and Frankie chuckled.

“Hi,” he repeated, mimicking her smile. “Still early, I think. I have no idea where my phone is,” he cleared his throat–he needed some water desperately, but couldn’t bring himself to move away from her. “You can get some more sleep, if you want.”

“Do I look that terrible?” she turned her lips in an exaggerated pout, moving her hand across his chest, shoulder, following the curve of his neck before she was cupping his jaw, thumb brushing across his patchy beard.

“Quite the opposite,” some boldness from the night before clung to him still, in that moment of otherness from the rest of the world they were lingering in, in tangled limbs and tentative touches. Though she attempted to maintain her expression of mock-offense, a grin broke across her lips–lips he was glancing at over and over–and a flush spread across her cheeks. She grew warmer, pressing herself into his side.

“Even without the alcohol?” she teased, the tip of his nose brushing his–neither of them seemed to care about morning breath, or the way both their mouths felt padded with cotton. As long as they were close. Closer.

“Especially without the alcohol,” he retorted with a nod, rubbing the tip of his nose to hers.

She kissed him with a smile still on, scratching his jaw as she pushed herself up to meet him, and he let his hand wander back, fingers brushing through her hair until he cupped the nape of her neck. Camila sighed in the kiss, and he took advantage of her parted lips, licking into her mouth as her whole body went soft and heavy against his.

Frankie moved slowly, slotting his leg between hers as he shifted on his side, deepening the kiss and then moved again, guiding her until she was lying on her back, and he hovered over her, forearms bracketing her head as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and parted her thighs to accommodate his hips.

He groaned when she arched her back to cant her hips towards his, a muffled whine at the rub of his underwear he’d pulled on before getting into bed against her bare core. It was suddenly clear to him that it hadn’t been the alcohol making him dizzy the night before, but her, her kisses, the way her body pressed against his, the soft sounds she fought to hold back.

For a moment, that was all he heard–the rustling of the covers, her breathing quickening, his heart beating faster, louder, his name hanging from her lips once and twice and then again–and then the doorbell rang, and Frankie’s head snapped upwards.

“Were you expecting someone?” Camila asked, a little breathless, turning her head towards the door of the bedroom, the echo of the doorbell breaking the glass that had shielded them from outside, from the day ahead.

“I think it’s my mother,” he spoke in a lower voice, flinching at his own words, and the woman’s eyes widened as he snapped her gaze back towards him, a hint of panic crossing her face. “It’s alright, she’s just–she’s not staying, just passing through, I’ll–” he brushed his lips to the corner of her mouth as he moved from over her, the half-kiss hurried and messy. “I’ll be right back.”

He cursed himself as he stood from the bed, scrambling to find a pair of trousers to put on with a shirt that wasn’t wrinkled–he pushed the clothes from the night before aside, the doorbell ringing again and the realization of what was going to happen making him suddenly unable to look at her.

“Frankie,” she called softly, and he turned his gaze to a vague point of the duvet, right next to where her hand rested now that she’d sat up. “Where’s the bathroom?” she fidgeted with a loose thread of the duvet, and on her other side she drummed her fingers quickly. Nervously.

“Down the corridor to the right,” he stalled for a moment, then forced his gaze up. Her eyes were still wide, still worried. “I’ll be right back,” he repeated, and headed for the door before the doorbell could ring a third time.

The night before was a blur until the moment they landed on his bed–bits and pieces, snippets of songs and rumbles of music, bitter and sweet from alcohol and then her. They’d talked for so long, and yet he knew he’d never mentioned Alba–and with the way they’d moved through the house, she sure hadn’t seen any picture of her either. It was why he hadn’t brought anybody home in a long time–hadn’t even thought about it, before Camila.

“Ah, tienes mala cara,” was his mother greeting as he opened the door, and the little child in her arms immediately squealed, all but throwing herself towards her father. Frankie was quick to grab her, huffing out a breath that he hoped didn’t smell too much of tequila, stepping aside as the woman walked in.

“Hola, mamá,” he muttered, watching as she perused the living room. “¿Están bien?” he asked then, turning to look at the child with a smile–he couldn’t help it, the child’s joy infectious even when he felt like death. He needed water. And breakfast.

“Nuh-hu,” she clicked her tongue and shook her head, a smile already pulling at her lips. Frankie sighed. "¿Es bonita?” she asked–he felt his chest and face warm up, and was quick to glance away, focusing on babbling Alba instead. He could try and bullshit his way out of the conversation, but there was no winning an argument like that with his mother.

Mostly because he knew it was clear as day on his face that he’d actually had a great night.

“Sì, mamá, es muy bonita, pero–” she waved her hands in the air, as if shooing gnats away.

“Vale, vale, me voy,” she scoffed, walking back towards them. Frankie bowed his head, letting her kiss his forehead before she pinched the kid’s cheek gently, making her giggle again. “Ten cuidado, ¿sí?”

“No es como si me fuera a robar, mamá,” he chuckled, the sticky feeling of her lipstick on his forehead familiar and somewhat welcomed. He reached over to squeeze her shoulder softly, reassuringly, but his mother just looked back up at him with a sigh, patting the back of his knuckles.

“Me refiero a tu corazón, Cisco,” she murmured gently.

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly with a shake of his head, but his eyes trailed up towards the ceiling, where soft steps came from upstairs. His mother shook her head, humming her dissent as she followed his gaze. “Mamá–”

“Al menos pídele una cita,” she whispered, the steps drawing tentatively closer, stopping somewhere down the corridor. “Chau, nena. Proteges a tu viejo, ¿vale?”

Frankie scoffed, a quick peck to his mother’s cheek with a thanking under his breath before she showed herself out, one last glance over her shoulder, towards the stairs that creaked–the situation was almost hilarious, his mother trying to steal a look towards Camila while the woman tried to be as quiet as possible down the stairs. All the while, Alba squirmed in his hold, curious about the noise coming from inside the house, too distracted by it to see the door close in front of his grandmother.

Camila’s head appeared first, the rest of her body still a step back, and she glanced inside the living room with a careful gaze–she saw Frankie first, her expression relaxing. She took the final step forward and then stilled, her eyes falling to the kid still in his arms. They regarded each other, and Frankie had to clear his throat a couple of times while she pulled at the hem of his shirt over her wrinkled dress.

“Well, I thought it took longer to get one of them,” she tugged the sleeves of the shirt almost over her hands, taking a tentative step forward before frowning. “Didn’t we use protection?”

Frankie hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath until he huffed out a laugh, holding Alba a little closer before crossing the space from the front door to Camila. Her gaze flickered from him to the child, her giggled pulling a smile on her lips as she tilted her head.

“Hi, nena,” she whispered softly, pushing her hand out towards Alba. The child grabbed her index, tugging it towards her face and immediately trying to put it in her mouth. Camila snorted, keeping her head tilted to look at her face. “I don’t think that’s very tasty, honey.”

“Alba, don’t,” Frankie chastised softly, trying to pry Camila’s finger from her grip. “Sorry, she will try and put everything in her mouth lately.”

“That’s alright,” her voice had a softer edge, eyes fixed on the giggling child. Frankie had managed to wrestle her hand out of the kid’s hold, and was now wiping her hand clean. “So she’s–you have a daughter?”

“Yes,” he looked up from their now joined hands to see her nibbling at her bottom lip, the hand he wasn’t holding fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt, thumbing the loose button.

“Just a daughter?” she asked, her voice lower, and looked up at him. Wide-eyed, her bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly, Frankie’s heart clenched at the hint of doubt in her words.

“Oh, God–yes,” he spoke quickly, and moved forward as much as he could while still holding Alba against his chest. “I’m sorry–yes. Her mother and I haven’t spoken in months.”

The tension left Camila’s shoulders, a long exhale that tasted minty and made Frankie all too aware of his own breath–he tilted his head to the side, keeping only his gaze directed towards her.

“You’ve been raising her on your own?” at her question, Alba tipped herself forward, lounging for her with open arms–Camila’s hand rested on her chest before his own could, keeping her upright and stepping closer, a wide and gentle smile as she murmured something under her breath as she rubbed her thumb across the child’s chest. Frankie shrugged.

“My mom helps, keeps her some nights if she thinks I need it,” he watched the soothing motions of her hand, the way Alba’s breath began to even, how the woman’s eyes did not leave the child for a moment, how her cheeks had a gentle flush that was somewhat different from the one of that morning, in bed. “My friends too–some of them. Benny can’t be trusted with a child on his own, I’d find her with purple hair or something.”

“Sounds like a charmer,” she chuckled, and after another beat looked up, meeting Frankie’s gaze. He sucked in a breath, his head bowed awfully close to hers–he wasn’t sure why it felt different now, to be so near her he could feel the warmth radiating off her body. In the new light, he could see faint shadows under her eyes, some remnants of the makeup she’d tried to wash off clinging to her eyelashes, the freckles dotting her nose, the grays at her temples that matched his own.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, shuffling on the spot. “I’m sorry, Mila.”

“What for?” she frowned. Frankie’s gaze shifted from her to Alba, her head now tipped back against his chest, eyelids drooping. “Hey, it’s alright–it’s not like a child is something you discuss with a one night stand. I understand,” she sounded so genuine, Frankie’s heart clenched again.

His mother’s words echoed in his head: at least ask her out on a date.

“What if it wasn’t?” he asked before he could stop himself, and watched the circling motion of her thumb still on Alba’s chest stop–the child grumbled in protest, turning her head to hide in the crook of Frankie’s neck. “A one night thing, I mean. That is, if–”

“Yes,” she replied immediately, almost breathlessly, then cleared her throat. “I’m sure there’s plenty of kid-friendly places, too.”

“I –” Frankie hadn’t even thought of suggesting Alba went with them, whenever it was, wherever it was, if it ever was– he already imagined calling in favors, finding a babysitter. Camila hadn’t even hesitated. “Might be a little rusty, but I don’t remember dates including one-year-old kids, y’know?”

“Oh, you meant a date?” Camila’s head tilted to the side, and Frankie’s expression fell, the little smile that had begun forming dropping quickly as his lips parted. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” she said right away, covering her mouth to keep herself from laughing. “Bad joke, I’m sorry,” she repeated, moving a little closer to his side, dropping the hand she was keeping on Alba towards his arm, wrapping her fingers around his wrist as she moved close enough to rest her chin on the opposite shoulder of the one the kid was falling asleep. “Whatever works for you–I’d just like to see you again.”

“Even without the alcohol?” he tilted his head so that he was looking at her still–from underneath the collar of his shirt, bright against her neck appeared a bruise in the shape of his lips. He stared at it a moment longer, while her smile widened and she nodded, chin digging into his shoulder.

“Especially without the alcohol,” she echoed, and he let his eyes flutter shut with an exhale.

He let himself linger in the moment, Alba’s warm puffs of air as she fell asleep against him, soft body slumped heavily over him, and Camila’s weight on the other side, the barely-there contact of her body against his side, fingers brushing his wrist with the same circling soothing motion she’d used with the child, the other hand resting over his shoulder.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, afraid of breaking whatever spell had been cast over the three of them.

“Of course I am,” he felt her shift her weight forward before she kissed his shoulder from above his shirt. “D’you have your phone?”

“Back pocket,” he’d realized he pulled on the trousers from the night before as he walked down the stairs, and the phone was still there–before he could fix his hold on Alba and reach for it, Camila dropped her hand from his shoulder and took it, turning a little so he could watch the screen too as she thumbed in her number.

“There. Whenever you’re ready,” she smiled up at him, and almost put it back in his pocket, then stalled. “Actually, can I use this? Mine’s dead and I should get a ride back to my car.”

“I can take you,” Alba stirred in his arms, the few minutes of sleep seemingly enough for her, a grumble leaving her as she tried to squirm out of his hold and reach for the floor.

“I’m a big girl, Frankie, I can make it,” she smiled, and her eyes wandered immediately towards the child, gaze softening as he lowered himself carefully to let her down. Alba toddled towards Camila, her arms out for balance–it still astounded Frankie, the way she could cross rooms by herself now.

“I know, just–” he followed the child with his gaze, hands outstretched to grab her should it be needed. But she went on, straight towards Camila’s legs, arms lifted towards the hem of the shirt, tugging gently on it. “We could get breakfast–Alba, pórtate bien,” he chided.

“Breakfast sounds nice,” the woman crouched down, bringing herself at eye level with the child–her dress pooled around her ankles, and his shirt brushed the floor, Alba grabbing the hem and pulling it towards her. “I know, nena, it looks familiar,” again her voice softened, a mock whisper as she leaned in and pulled one corner up. “I stole it from your dad because I couldn’t find my jacket–but don’t tell him.”

Alba giggled, looking between the two of them but leaning against Camila’s bent legs, one cheek squished against her knees. The woman’s hand reached for her head, gently brushing her dark curls back and out of her hair. Frankie had only ever seen his mother use such tenderness with her. His mouth felt dry.

“Give me just a moment, I’ll be right back.”

He got ready in record time, brushing his teeth while simultaneously trying and failing to make his hair make sense–he pulled one of his caps on, not wanting to waste more time. A part of him was apprehensive, leaving the two of them alone–but the other trusted Camila already, and he hoped this once his gut would not betray him. He really, really hoped so.

When he returned–still in the middle of buttoning his shirt–Camila had abandoned her crouched position and was sitting on the floor instead, her back against the couch and her purse abandoned on the side, as Alba sat between her ankles and placed one toy after the other over the woman’s dress. She babbled as she moved a stuffed bear towards the other, which Camila held against her stomach, her eyes crinkling at the corners while she smiled. The moment Frankie walked back into the living room, she looked up towards him.

“That’s an interesting shirt,” she commented, eyebrows arching, unable to hide the grin as her gaze roamed across the print of his button-up. Dark green with a floral print, it had been a gift from his mother, and he rarely ever wore it, the pattern a little too bold for his taste.

“I’m behind on laundry,” he muttered, fingers hovering over the last button, eventually deciding to leave the neck a little open. “And you stole the other one,” he pointed an accusing finger at her, and Camila immediately brought one hand to her chest, stuffed animal and all.

“Who told you that?” she gasped in mock-offense, her eyes falling back to Alba who had been following the conversation, eyes wide and attentive, giggling between their words. “I thought we were becoming friends, and you went and betrayed me like this!”

“Don’t blame it on the child,” reaching their side, Frankie offered her his hand to help her up, and once she was standing, a couple of staggering steps before he steadied her, he lowered his head towards her a little. “Thief,” he added in a whisper, and Camila smiled up at him.

“Is this alright?” she asked then, almost tentatively. “I really have no idea where my jacket is,” she admitted, sheepishly. Frankie rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, gaze falling from her lips to the places his shirt draped over her shoulders and collarbones.

“Of course–I’m sure it’ll turn up,” he didn’t say it gave him an excuse to call her afterwards, to actually see her again if for a minute.

“Thank you,” she cleared her throat, letting go of his hand to reach up and fix the collar of his shirt, fingertips brushing his neck while doing so. “I was just messing with you–it looks good,” she hummed then, smoothing it across his chest. He scoffed, a light roll of his eyes before turning to pick up Alba, the child already lifting her arms towards him.

“Come on, I’m starving,” he said instead, and the woman scowled at his dismissal, walking just ahead of him to open the door for him and Alba–she’d picked one of the stuffed bears with her, and when Alba noticed she squealed happily, looking over Frankie’s shoulder all the while to keep her eyes on Camila and the bear.

The drive was quiet, except for the initial moment, the radio starting again where they had left it on a too high volume the night before–the final notes of The Chain leaving place to the beginning of You Make Loving Fun, a nervous laughter leaving them both as they reached for the volume at the same time. In the backseat, Alba squirmed in her booster seat but was otherwise unfazed, the bear secured in her arms, and they glanced at her half-guiltily before turning towards each other.

Frankie thought he could’ve kissed her right there and then, above the handbrake with their seatbelts pushing into their chests. He also thought he’d had the same idea the night before. Was sure of it, actually. He’d probably done it, too, the alcohol making him bold enough.

But he didn’t need courage, he realized. It was so easy to be at Camila’s side, to talk about nothing and everything all at once, to joke and laugh and listen to her hum along with the songs, watch as she looked into the mirror towards Alba and made faces at her that made the child giggle with unabashed glee.

He forgot, for the whole ride, that they hadn’t even known each other for a full day. It didn’t feel like it mattered anyway.

Inside the café–right in front of the bar they’d been the night before, her car the only one still in the parking lot–there weren’t a lot of people. They sat themselves in one of the corners, Frankie between her and Alba, and ordered an exaggerated amount of food with two strong coffees–acknowledging for the first time their hangovers.

Passing in front of the counter, Camila had gotten an orange, and as they waited for the food she began peeling, the oils soaking her skin that still smelled like Frankie–a combination from his shirt, his sheets, his soap she’d used to rinse part of the night from her. In the meantime they spoke of her job–a boring office job that she needed to pay rent as she looked for something she actually enjoyed–and his job which left Alba with her grandmother during the day, how he still tried to be home early every afternoon.

“Yesterday was an exception–I barely ever get out when I don’t have her, and most of the time I just get a drink and then go back home to crash on the couch,” he looked down at the small white plate in front of him, the orange slices she’d dropped there dripping juice down the sides. She’d done it without thought, alternating between eating some herself and giving it to him as she listened, stealing glances at Alba every now and again. “I don’t–I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve done any of this.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to apologize?” she tilted her head as he bit into one of the orange slices, then removed the skin from the remaining half and gave it to Alba, her hands already extended towards him. “I thought this was going well.”

“It is!” he said quickly, his thumb catching some of the juice at the corner of Alba’s mouth. Camila repeated the process–one slice for her, another on Frankie’s plate. “I just–I feel I might be rusty, and I don’t want to f–” he stopped himself, a quick glance towards the child, “to mess this up.”

“Frankie,” she lingered on his name a moment, soft-spoken and tender. It hung in the air a long moment as they were brought their food, her gaze on him like a rooting force. He exhaled slowly, and only when the waitress left did he manage to look away from Camila. “I haven’t done this in a while either, you know? Any of it.”

He took a blueberry muffin, split it into tiny segments on the plate still covered in orange juices before handing them to Alba one by one–at the corner of his eye, Camila still looked at him and the child, the cup of coffee already in her hands.

“You can go ahead, she’s been obsessed with these lately,” he murmured, and to prove his point the kid began stuffing her face with the bits. “You still seem to be more at ease with all of this,” he admitted then, his voice still low.

“What about tonight?” she tilted her head to the side a little, food still untouched.

“You said it yourself–that was the tequila,” with a sheepish smile, he looked up at her, wiping his hands on the nearest napkin. “Made me think less about the fact you actually asked me over like that,” at that, she gave a quick laugh–a sudden noise that seemed to surprise both of them.

“Sorry, just–” she cleared her throat and took a quick sip of her coffee. “Why’d you think I asked you?”

“I have no idea,” he shrugged, honesty weighing his words. Camila’s gaze softened.

“My last relationship ended a little over a year ago–yesterday was the first time I actually got a night out for myself,” she spoke calmly, and for the first time that morning she did not meet his gaze openly, rather focused on the table as she ran her index all around the rim of the cup. “I just wanted to have fun. I spent so much time during that relationship staying quiet, staying still, and I just wanted to sing and dance for a while.”

“That doesn’t explain me,” her expression shifted quickly, that same scowl from the house at the way he’d just brushed off her compliment. He almost apologized right away.

“You looked like you might need it, too,” she shrugged, leaning with her elbows on the table and cocking her head to the side again, meeting his gaze once more. “And I really wanted you to need it. Which made me really really nervous.”

“You seemed anything but,” she smiled then, lowering the cup to the table to fill her plate once she saw him eat, too.

“Liquid courage,” she said it almost conspiratorially–her voice low, not enough that he couldn’t hear her, but had to lean in a little. Camila’s gaze flickered from his eyes down to his lips, and when she reached over to rub her thumb at the corner of his mouth, Frankie’s shoulders sagged with a slow exhale. “We could just test out the waters, you know? Slowly. See where this goes–it doesn’t need to be a grand thing.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” her fingers were still brushing his face, and when he shook his head his stubbled rubbed against her fingertips.

“You’re not,” she replied in a soft voice, dropping her elbow to the table. With the motion, his head followed her hand down, resting his cheek into her palm. Like the night before, Frankie believed he couldn’t possibly get close enough. “I think it’s worth a try, if–I mean, if that’s how you feel, too.”

“I really do,” he murmured, and she smiled again, so bright and pretty his heart ached. “I just have no idea what to do.”

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” she shrugged, and then, lowering her head a little so she could look at him fully from underneath the visor of his cap. “Can I kiss you?”

The warmth in her voice took him aback, the knot in his throat melting with it, and before he could register he was even leaning further in, he nodded.

“Yes,” he added, pointlessly, feeling her hand moving to cup his chin, leading him close, closer, gently pushing his cap back so that it didn’t stand in her way. Camila’s kiss was delicate, nothing compared to those of the night before, nothing like that morning–chaste, familiar, almost casual, somewhat tender.

There, then gone, leaving Frankie with the thought he could be kissing her all day long and never grow tired of it.

“Where the hell have you been?” Santi’s voice sounded metallic and distant coming from the car speaker, his greeting as soon as Frankie called him back.

“I’ve got Alba, mind your tongue,” he retorted, watching as Camila’s car moved out of the parking lot, her arm sticking out of the window to wave at them. Alba laughed, returning the gesture and squirming in her seat. “Did somebody die?”

“Hola chiquitita,” Santi called, and Alba squealed in delight. Frankie suddenly wondered if he should’ve given her that muffin with all its sugar. “I could’ve died. I’ve been calling since yesterday.”

“Well, you didn’t,” for a moment he stared at the tail of Camila’s car–up until he could see, and then began driving the opposite direction. “What’s up?”

“No, not what’s up,” Santi argued, his voice growing in pitch. “Where have you been, Fish?”

Frankie flinched, shifting his grip on the steering wheel–he cleared his throat.

“I was on a date,” there was no going around it–not with Santi. A clattering and a muttered curse, Santi’s voice was suddenly closer.

“Excuse me?” he turned the volume down a bit, sighing as he tipped his head back towards the headrest, eyes still fixed on the road. “For the whole night?”

“Yes, actually,” he sighed, glancing towards Alba in the mirror–she was tilting her head at the sound of her uncle’s voice, over and over, as if trying to find him right there in the car with them. “My mom had Alba so I went out. Camila stayed the night. It’s not a big deal.”

“Camila, hu?” the other man almost taunted. “I’m assuming the night went alright, since it’s almost lunchtime.”

“We went for breakfast,” Frankie shrugged, even though Santi could not see him.

“You–” a pause, “wait, with Alba?” “With Alba,” he confirmed, a careful note in his voice.

“And it went–” Santi let the sentence linger, unsure. Great, Frankie wanted to say. It went great. I can’t believe my luck. It feels too good to be true. I’m afraid I’m about to wake up from a wonderful dream and be met with a disappointing reality.

“Alright,” he said instead. “Alba adores her, and she was–it was alright.”

“So, you’re gonna see her again?” he could hear the grin in his friend’s voice, and he almost rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to hear the end of it anytime soon, he knew. He also knew he didn’t care, Camila’s perfume lingering in his car, on his bed, the promise of going on a walk soon, to keep things easy.

“Yeah–I will.”

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guessimwritingficsagain · 3 years

Text

La Voisine, Intro

Frankie Morales x OFC

He came back home to a wife with eyes wild with worry, puffy with tears. Beyond the desperation, he saw the anger. Frankie held her tight, put a hand on her cheek and whispered an apology he hoped would be enough.

They made love urgently.

She didn’t push him, and it took him three days to choke out the words.

Redfly’s dead.

They were doing the dishes in the kitchen. He was washing, she was drying. He saw her go still as a statue, for a few seconds that stretched into an eternity. She put down the plate, and pressed her hands on the counter.

(Later, much later, he would realize she was grounding herself, because she was oh so angry.)

How ?

That wasn’t the answer he expected, but he knew, even then, that honesty was the only option. But he couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t speak the words. Couldn’t explain how wrong that whole trip had been.

Give me time, he said, and he saw her nod once.

She stopped touching him after that. It took him a while to notice - he was still ashamed of that, of him not seeing. It took him a while to notice that the anger in her eyes never actually left.

She didn’t come with him at the funeral. It made sense : she never met any of his brothers.

(For some reason(s) he didn’t care to think about.)

He remembered meeting her, after going home for good. She was the future, his future, but never quite got why he was so attached to men who reminded him so much of his past, men who were in his nightmares when he jerked awake at night, unable to go back to sleep. She listened to the stories of course, and she laughed at the funny ones, and she found her way to him, to bring him back to the present, to her, at the difficult ones. She knew him, she knew how soft he was, silk-soft like his hair, like the stubble which would never be a full beard on his face. He made a joke about it once, while showing pictures of the boys. He pointed at Santiago and made a stupid joke he couldn’t remember and she laughed, and she put a hand on his cheek and it was so soft, all of it : her hand, the moment, his feelings. She never met them, though. He’d learn, later, after the divorce, that she ducked in a different alley one day at the grocery store after seeing Pope. She thought she was being subtle, but he was trained and he had seen pictures, too.

Then came the questioning.

Would he really pick Rosita in time at daycare ? (That they could barely afford.)

Would he really be home in time for Valentine’s Day ? (That they didn’t use to care about before.)

Would he ?

And he didn’t notice.

When she said she was sorry - sorry for his loss - she didn’t put her hand on his cheek. She stood there. There was a softness in her eyes but she just stood there and when he reached out, she busied herself with a meaningless thing to do, something to occupy her hands. He didn’t notice.

And then one day on the couch watching TV, she just said Catfish. And she added You’ll never not be that.

And then

I can’t trust you.

And then

You never told me what happened.

She let the silence settle, and he knew, he understood, the tipping point was here and all he had left was honesty. So he told her. Not once in the months that had passed had she asked about the money.

He woke up to bags packed and her leaving, new place already found, everything planned - one week Rosita with her, one week Rosita with him but if anything happens Frankie I swear …

He couldn’t blame her. He let her walk away.

He moved into a smaller house, then - one he could afford. Work, eat, sleep, night with the boys. Work, eat sleep. Rinse, repeat. Rosita turned three and the ache in his body grew. Rinse, repeat. The pain and the longing had disappeared. He could see his ex-wife, talk to her, be normal, never addressing the fact that he had fucked up so badly he had screwed up the best thing he had in a week or so.

He had the boys over sometimes, for a barbecue, or because they wanted to see Rosita. This time, it was barbecue. All of them, sitting on wooden chairs, talking about nothing and everything as the evening sun warmed them - that, or the beer. On the other side of the street, his new neighbor was doing pretty much the same, friends, barbecue, the laughter reaching the other side of the street, filling the air at a moment of quiet.

When Tom was mentioned, the air stood still for a moment - that always happened, despite the water under the bridge. Frankie - Catfish, his ex-wife was right about that one - went back to those days, long gone, when he saw Tom’s family at the same kind of barbecue.

(Those didn’t happen anymore, for obvious reasons no one would ever mention.)

Everything was quiet and soft in the summer air, nobody talking. Then, Ironhead :

« They seem to have an awful lot of wine, over there »

And sure enough, his neighbor was coming out of the house, a bottle in each hand. White wine, from the looks of it. And Ironhead’s brother, always the one for a party, downed his beer, got up, and answered :

« We should go there, or they should come here »

Pope added :

« But with the wine »

Frankie watched Benny cross the street, wave at the group of people, talk for a bit - laughter echoing in the street - and then jog back, a delighted smile on his face. He stopped right at the entrance and exclaimed, a bit too loud :

« If we’ve got good food, they’re willing to share. And they got French wine. The good stuff. »

And just as the boys were about to answer, a guy with a slight accent Frankie couldn’t quite place appeared right next to Benny and said :

« Our place. And we cook. You Americans are not good at that. Wine for everyone. Bring the meat, and the beer. I’m Nanni, by the way. »

Hands were shook, beers and meat were brought. Frankie, never one to prevent his friends from having fun, went along with the plan.

It wasn’t until later, as everyone was chatting happily while he sat a bit on the side, laughing occasionally at some joke, that he saw his neighbor get up and walk up to him. She had been sitting on the edge of a chair she shared with one of her friends. Some words had been exchanged, in a language Frankie didn’t understand. She had gotten up, and had grabbed a beer. When she handed it to him, he smiled, thanked her, and in return, she introduced herself, apologizing for not doing it before.

She was soft, so soft, and bright. But he didn’t notice right away.

#frankie morales x reader #Frankie Morales x original female character #Frankie morales #slow burn #pedro pascal x reader #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #Frankie morales imagine #Francisco morales

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theewokingdead · 3 years

Text

Wonderful Tonight (Francisco "Catfish" Morales x F!Reader)

Part Two

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader Warnings: 18+ (No smut today, sorry, but my blog is 18+ so…). Language. Fluff. Fluff. And more fluff. Mentions of alcohol/drinking. Words: 3.2k Summary: It’s the day of Santi’s wedding and Frankie can’t help but think of your future together. Inspired by Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight.” A/N: I figured I would take a break from writing Din to try writing Frankie. This has been floating around in my head since attending a wedding last week. Could not stop imagining dancing to this song with sweet Frankie. If this gets enough interest, I may write a part two, who knows. Please enjoy, and thanks for reading!

It's late in the evening

She's wondering what clothes to wear

You stand with your hands on your hips, mentally scrutinizing the dress laying on the bed in front of you. You found it while browsing online weeks earlier, desperately scouring the web in search of a dress for Santi’s black-tie wedding, and it seemed perfect. Frankie assured you as much when you modeled it for him at his insistence the minute it came in the mail. But now that it’s time to wear it for real, you’re doubting your choice, wondering if it’s good enough. If you are good enough.

Your phone beeps from somewhere behind you, interrupting the war you’re having with your mind. A long, drawn-out sigh escapes your lips. Turning, you trudge across the room and grab the device from the vanity, where you had left it while doing your hair and makeup. When you pick it up and see a message from Frankie, your demeanor instantly changes, suddenly giddy with excitement. If you were to look up, you would see the glow he brings to your face.

Swiftly, you unlock your phone and open the message, a picture of Frankie instantly filling your screen. But it’s not the Frankie you’re used to. The one who would never be caught dead in public without a baseball cap, one with his long brown locks peeking out from underneath it, his unkempt hair only visible when he adjusts his hat or is alone with you. The one who practically lives in tight jeans and a mixture of plain t-shirts and button-ups. The one whose rough hands are almost always dirty, covered with grease and who knows what else from long days at the shop.

No. This Frankie has deeply parted, finely groomed hair, only a few stray strands standing upright. This Frankie is dressed sharply in black and white clothes, sporting a tuxedo with a bowtie. This Frankie is clean. Suave. And particularly fucking gorgeous.

But it is your Frankie. His personality shines through the photo, his lips pressed together in a firm line, one eyebrow slightly raised. The little bald patch in his facial hair that you love to kiss so much is visible. His brown eyes are soft as he appears to look at you from the screen. Yes. It’s no doubt him. This is your Frankie.

You melt into the chair in front of your vanity, staring at the image. As much as you know that Frankie hates dressing like this – he’s done nothing but complain about it since the boys first went tux shopping – he looks amazing. It’s different, but you like it. For a moment, you wonder what it would be like, seeing him like this at the end of the aisle on your own wedding day.

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts of him that it takes you a minute to notice the message accompanying the photo.

Frankie: Help I feel naked :(

You laugh, immediately understanding that he’s referring to the fact he’s hatless. You type out your reply, knowing that no matter how busy he might be, he’s anxiously awaiting to hear from you.

You: Could be worse. You could ACTUALLY be naked. Be glad neither of them is a nudist. Not that I’d complain ;)

You smile as you press “send,” setting your phone back down before grabbing a pair of earrings that you’d left out, reminding yourself that the sooner you dress and go to the wedding, the sooner you can be with Frankie. While putting them on, you hear your phone ping three separate times, several seconds between each message. Confused about the back-to-back-to-back messages, you pick your phone back up.

Frankie: I’d almost prefer that

Frankie: Wait, are nudists weddings a thing

Frankie: Nm would not recommend googling

You literally laugh out loud, imagining what sort of results Frankie had gotten.

You: At least then it would be clear why you’re the best man ;)

Frankie: Ur making it impossible not to miss u, know that?

Your smile brightens. You consider your response for a moment, wondering if you’re cruel enough to tease him.

Yes. Yes you are.

You’re wearing nothing but a pair of black lacy panties and one of Frankie’s button-ups, a not unusual getup after you’ve showered and are doing your hair and makeup. You’d complain about not having a robe, but seeing you in his clothes drives him wild, which you like.

You unbutton the shirt, letting it hang loose, your cleavage visible but nothing too scandalous. Holding your phone high in the air, trying to get as much as possible, you arch your back and take a picture. Pleased with the result, you send it off to Frankie with a message.

You: Here. I’ll make it harder for you.

You stare at the screen, quietly giggling to yourself while waiting for his reaction. You imagine him gawking at the photo with his lips parted, his tongue lightly touching lowering lip. It’s not often that you send him these types of photos often, but when you do, his reaction is always worth it. This time is no different. Within half a minute, your phone starts to ring, an incoming call from Frankie. You laugh then bite your lower lip, letting your phone ring a few times before answering.

“Don’t you have something better to do than call me, Mr. Morales?” you question innocently. You’re not completely certain of the agenda, but it’s probably nearing time for the wedding party to head to pre-ceremony pictures.

“How long before Santi and Yovanna receive their pictures back?” he questions.

You knit your brows in confusion. What kind of question is that?

“I…I don’t know,” you respond, not really knowing much about wedding photography. “A month, I guess. Why?”

“Good. Because it’s going to take that long to come up with an excuse for why I’m pitching a god damn tent in their wedding photos.”

You can’t help but roar with laughter. “Did you miss the memo? Your weekend in the woods with the boys is over.”

“I can’t exactly help it. You know what you do to me.”

You giggle into the receiver. “I guess it is a good thing it’s not a nudist wedding.”

“Yeah, well, looks like Pope’s getting a military wedding unless I can get my little soldier to stop standing at attention.”

“Hm. He’s not exactly a little soldier,” you imply.

Frankie lets out a breath. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Maybe…,” you giggle. “Is it working?”

“I’m telling you right now, babe. You come here looking like that, and I’ll have to fuck you in the church bathroom.”

“Jesus Christ, Francisco!” you exclaim.

“Yeah. That’s what you’ll be saying.”

You laugh. “How much have you and the boys had to drink today?”

Frankie’s been with Santi, Will, and Benny since yesterday morning, having gone out to the lake to celebrate one last time before the wedding. You’re not certain they ever stopped the celebration.

“Enough to stave off last night’s hangover, but not enough to forget how fucking gorgeous you are. I mean, shit babe. I was already excited to see you. Now I can’t wait to tear your dress off you. You are wearing that dress you showed me, right?”

“You rip my dress and I’ll kill you,” you warn with a grin. “It cost a fortune.”

Frankie laughs. “Would be worth it.” He starts to say something else, but you hear someone yell for him in the background.

“Shit, babe, I gotta go.”

“I know. I’ll see you soon.”

“Not soon enough. Listen, babe, I-I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Can’t wait to see you. You’re going to look amazing. I mean, you already do.”

“Thanks. Oh, and Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

“At ease, soldier.”

We go to a party

And everyone turns to see

Frankie is so wrapped up in his duties as best man that you don’t get a chance to talk to him again until the reception. Anytime it seemed like he finally had a chance to see, someone would stop him, forcing him into a conversation he doesn’t want to be in or whisking him away to whatever was next on the itinerary. When the dancefloor finally opens, you watch in hopeful anticipation as he steps away from the head table and moves toward you, your eyes locked on him and his on you.

You rise from you seat and move away from the table, timidly approaching him.

“Hey, stranger,” you greet with a smile. You haven’t seen him since early yesterday, the longest you’ve been apart in months. “I see you found a way to fix your…big problem.”

Frankie chuckles. “Yeah. No thanks to you.”

You finally embrace, giving him a peck on the cheek before holding him tight.

“Your speech was incredible,�� you assure him, knowing he was nervous about it.

He pulls back, looking at you with his warm, gentle eyes. “You are incredible,” he replies. “I mean, wow!” He holds you at arm’s length, looking you up and down. “Look at you.”

You feel your face flush and look down, diverting your gaze to the floor as you giggle nervously. Frankie has seen you in every way from wearing jeans and a shirt to sweatpants and a hoodie to wearing no clothes at all. He’s seen you in makeup, he’s seen you sick and miserable, but he’s never seen you like…this.

“You don’t clean up so bad yourself, Mr. Morales,” you tell him, looking up at him from under your eyelashes with a coy smile on your face.

Frankie grins shyly, the dimple on his cheek makes an appearance. He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by a familiar voice screaming for him.

“Hey Fish! Fish! Hey!” You watch as Ben emerges from the crowd. He speaks loudly, both over the music and from the alcohol he’s no doubt been consuming. “Where’s your girl and does she know you’re talking to this pretty lady? She’ll kill you, man.”

You laugh, not completely sure if he’s being serious or not. “Hey, Benny.”

“Oh, shit!” Benny exclaims, taking a closer look at you. “I almost didn’t recognize you. Fuck, Fish,”-he slams a hand on his back-“man up and put a ring on her finger before I do.”

“Find your own girl, shithead,” Frankie lightheartedly responds, pushing him off him, causing Benny to stumble a couple feet.

“Who needs a girl when I have my right hand?” He raises his right fist, looks at it and says, “Ain’t that right, baby?” before giving it a kiss.

Frankie gives him another shove while you laugh. God, how you love these boys.

The three of you get lost in conversation, Will eventually joining you, bringing a fresh round of beers with him. Frankie is mostly quiet. Every now and then you catch him gazing at you despite the fact someone else is talking. You don’t question it, considering you spent most of the ceremony ogling him instead of watching the couple.

Hearing a song you like, you try to get Frankie to dance, feeling like letting loose after a drink – the only one you allow yourself to have since you will be driving home. To your dismay, he declines, opting to stay off to the side while Benny drags you into the crowd on the dancefloor.

“You feeling alright, man?” Will eventually questions, seeing him stare at you while you’re with Benny, screaming the lyrics to “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” at the top of your lungs.

“Yeah,” Frankie replies, watching you like he’s entranced. “Everything’s perfect.”

“You two ain’t gonna make us wear this shit, are you?” Will asks

His mouth curves into a smile. “That’s up to her.” He takes a sip of his drink. “But if I get a say, hell no.”

“It’ll be your wedding too, you know.”

Frankie chuckles. “She’s gotta say yes first.”

“Well, you gotta ask her for her to say yes, man,” Will reminds him. “Just fucking do it already. What are you waiting for?”

Frankie doesn’t respond. He honestly doesn’t know why he’s waited this long. Truth is, he wanted to marry you long ago.

The song ends and the DJ announces that he’s going to slow it down for a few minutes. The distinctive guitar riff of Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight” pours out the speakers.

“Fuck. I’m going to need another drink.” Ben looks at the empty bottle in his left hand, then looks at his right hand. “Come on, sweetheart, we can dance later.” He turns and leaves along with all the other dateless individuals, laughing as you watch him go.

You turn, and your eyes meet Frankie’s. He sets his beer bottle down on the nearest table and approaches you without breaking your gaze, meeting you on the dancefloor.

He holds out his hand. “Wanna dance?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d ever ask,” you reply with a smile, taking his hand in yours.

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close while you gently grab onto his shoulder.

“You really do look beautiful tonight,” Frankie assures you, swaying along with you.

“I think you’ve said as much a time or two,” you reply with a smile.

“It’s not enough,” he affirms. “And, well, actually, you might just be the prettiest girl in the world right now."

“I’m not even the prettiest girl in the room,” you say, catching sight of Yovanna, who’s dancing with Santi, her white dress shimmering under the dim lights.

“You’ll be a much more beautiful bride.”

“Oh, I will, will I?” you question, an eyebrow raised.

Your heart thumps hard against your chest. Marriage isn’t a new topic between you and Frankie; you’ve discussed it several times and seemed to agree that it’s in the cards for the two of you someday. It’s just a matter of when.

“Mhm.”

“You know, to be a bride, I have to have a groom. Know anyone interested?” You smile slyly, looking up at Frankie.

He pretends to think for a moment. “I might know a guy,” he replies nonchalantly.

“Yeah? Is he handsome?”

Frankie wrinkles his face. “Depends on who you ask.”

You reach up and run your hand along his cheek, feeling his facial hair prickle your skin. “I’m sure he’s sexy. Especially if he has facial hair like this.” You run your fingers through his hair, feeling where it usually curls. “I prefer a hat guy though.”

“Me too,” Frankie jokes, causing you to laugh.

“Is he sweet? Funny?”

He shrugs. “He can be a bit of a dick at times, but he’s alright, I guess.”

“I’m sure he’s perfect.” You smile. “Think he’ll like me?”

“No reason not to.” Frankie smiles, that damn dimple of his appearing once more. “He’ll love you with every fiber of his being. Worship the ground you walk on, even.” His smile slowly fades. He looks down at his feet for a second, his forehead wrinkled. “Only downside is that he comes with some baggage. A divorce. A kid. Some other shit he doesn’t like to talk about. You think you could love him despite all of that?”

You look at him deeply, losing yourself in the warmth of his soft, sparkling eyes. “I will love him for all that he is. I already do.”

Frankie’s eyes grow even softer. “Enough to marry him?”

“He’ll have to ask and find out.”

“Well, how about now?” He starts to step away. “I can just-”

You tut, pulling him back into you. “He’ll have to wait. I’ve heard it’s very rude to propose at someone else’s wedding.”

“Hm. Is that so?”

You nod. “I think so.”

“What a shame,” Frankie says glumly. “Another day then?”

“Another day,” you affirm, smiling. You start to lay your head on his shoulder but pull back and look at him. “Oh, wait. One more question. How is he in bed?”

Frankie contemplates for a second, then nonchalantly replies, “Rumor is, he’s the pussy eating king.”

“Francisco!” you squeal before tilting your head back, laughing at the ceiling.

His smile brightens, realizing how perfect everything is.

As your laughter dies down, you pull yourself closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder. Frankie closes his eyes, resting his cheek against your head while slowly moving with you, dancing in a way he only does when the two of you are home alone together. As far as he’s concerned, there’s no one else in the room. It’s just you and him.

“I love you, Frankie,” you eventually whisper.

“I love you too, babe.”

It’s a wonder you don’t realize just how much.

It's time to go home now

And I've got an aching head

After pulling into the driveway, you walk to the passenger side of the car and open the door, holding your hand out for Frankie to take. He is disheveled, his eyes heavy with sleep, his bowtie undone and hanging around his neck, his shirt untucked with the top buttons unfastened, his hair finally back to a messy state like he likes. It’s a wonder he’s still awake.

“I should be doing this for you,” Frankie grumbles, taking your hand.

You help him out of the car, giggling as he stumbles before wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “Yeah, well, you’ve been living up to your name and drinking like a fish. Now, c’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”

“I like where this is going.”

“To sleep, Francisco,” you clarify, giggling.

Using you as a crutch, he walks with you to the house then up to the bedroom. You guide him down to the edge of the bed, where he immediately falls on his side, collapsing onto the mattress, his head hitting the pillow. Wanting him to be comfortable, you take off his shoes.

“You’re a saint, babe. Know that?”

“Yes,” you reply, a smile on your face as you toss a shoe to the floor. “But I like when you tell me anyway.”

“So perfect,” he mumbles, closing his eyes. “Just fucking…perfect.”

You scoot closer to his head, running your fingers through his hair. “Get some sleep, sweet boy. You can tell me all about how perfect I am tomorrow…when I’m nursing your hangover.” You bend over and kiss his forehead, unsure if he’s even still conscious. “I’m going to grab you some water and aspirin then I’ll come to bed.”

You get up and walk to the door, the light from the hallway pouring into the room as you open it.

“Querida…”

You stop and look back. “Hm?”

“What time is it?”

You furrow your brows in confusion. “I-I don’t know. Sometime after midnight.”

“Another day?” Frankie questions quietly.

“Another day,” you confirm, nodding.

“And the wedding’s over….”

“The wedding’s over,” you repeat.

“So, whaddya say? Will you…marry me?” he mumbles, his words growing fainter the more he talks, obviously fighting sleep.

You smile, holding onto the door as you bite your bottom lip and look at the ground. You’d love more than anything to say yes.

“Ask me again when you’re feeling better,” you reply, looking at the outline of his body. “Ask me then, and I promise I’ll give you the answer you’re hoping for.”

Oh, my darling, you were wonderful tonight

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albertasunrise · 2 years

Text

Suffered in Silence - Chapter 2

Masterlist

Summary: Frankie had been suffering in silence for so long. Ashamed that his life wasn’t what his friends believed it to be. What will it take for him to finally seek help?

Pairings: Frankie Morales x Original Female Character

Warnings: Angst, Domestic abuse, Neglect.

Notes: There are some pretty sensitive subjects in this so be warned.

Part 1

Benny couldn't believe that the hospital had let him go home with her. Despite the doctor's concerns, because Frankie had no memory of it all, there was nothing they could do except watch as she drove him away. That was almost a month ago. Ben and Will had called, trying to get her to let them see him but she refused, using the excuse that he needed to focus on his physio and recovery.

Only he hadn't been going.

Will had started dating a PT a few months prior and had managed to secure Frankie appointments with her, knowing that she would be his best hope at potentially walking again. So he'd been shocked to discover that he'd not attended one.

Not a single, one.

It was two months later that they finally managed to see him. Lilly was throwing a party for her niece who was turning one. So that's how the Miller Brothers found themselves stood at the door of their friend's house, hearts in their throats as Lilly opened the door with a wide smile.

"Oh, boys." She squealed as she threw her arms around Will's shoulders to give him a hug that he limply reciprocated.

"Where's Fish?" Asked Ben, his head poking around trying to catch sight of his best friend.

"Oh, he's in bed at the moment." She said, her face falling a little "He's not having a good day."

"Can I see him?" Ben pushed, eyes boring into her.

"Oh yeah, he's in the spare room." She replied as she shifted anxiously on the spot.

Ben didn't wait, he shuffled past her and stormed up the stairs. He was a little more delicate upon opening the door to the spare room and his breath caught in his throat upon seeing the man he considered a brother. Iceblue orbs studied the man who lay napping in the bed and two months had changed him beyond recognition. He was so thin he looked like a skeleton with skin stretched over them. His skin had taken on a greyish complexion and his hair was thin and patchy.

"Shit Fish." Ben sobbed, internally cursing himself when the man stirred and turned his head to look at his friend.

A smile spread across his face and for a moment. He looked like Frankie. Then it disappeared almost as soon as it appeared as he tried to shift his frail frame only to growl out at the lack of strength he had to move his own body.

"He Fish, let me help." Said Ben as sprinted to his side, gently lifting his friend so that he was sat up a little straighter "How you doing Fishcakes?"

"Well let's see." Fish started as he scraped his bony hand over his face "I'm paralysed, I'm forgetting everything and I'm so tired all the time that I haven't been able to hold my daughter in months. Lilly's too worried that she'll hurt me."

"That's ridiculous, Fish, Izzy can sit on the bed with you. She doesn't need to be picked up for you to hold her."

"She's just looking out for me Ben."

Benny scoffed and Frankie looked at him, brows pulled together as he waited for his friend to elaborate on his reaction.

"What?" He questioned when Ben said nothing, his eyes pleading for his friend to explain.

"Fish Lilly was hitting you." Ben blurted out, closing his eyes in regret the moment he said it.

"What?" Frankie choked and Ben opened his eyes to see his friend staring back at him "What do you mean?"

"Just before your accident you uh... you came to my fight and you were covered in bruises. Bruises she'd put on you."

"She wouldn't."

"I'm fairly sure she pushed you from the window."

"Shut up Ben," Frankie growled and Ben's mouth snapped shut.

"Frankie I'm worried about you."

"I think you should leave."

"Frank."

"Go."

After hesitating a few moments he got up from where he'd perched on Frankie's bed, looking down at his friend who's head was turned to avoid his gaze. His mouth opened ready to say something but when it came to it, he couldn't find the words.

So he left.

2 months later...

Ben fumbled at his phone, looking at the number and noting it wasn't one he recognised. It had been the third time today this number had called him and so he decided that he needed to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hi is this Ben Miller?"

"It is." He replied, his stomach sinking as a wave of Deja Vu washed over him.

"Well, I'm calling because we've been unable to reach Mr Morales. He was due to have a check-up today however he never showed and we are concerned about him. Have you heard from him?"

The truth was he hadn't.

He had left the party, Will hot on his heels, and that had been it. He'd not attempted to contact Fish or see him. He's bottled it every time he'd picked up the phone with the intention of contacting his friend but the truth was he didn't know what to say to him. The fact that he'd not gone to any of his appointments meant he didn't want to help himself and so Ben had given up on him and that killed him.

"No, I uh... I haven't spoken to him in a while."

"Well if you do. Please tell him to contact us. The longer he leaves this the more likely that the final outcome of his recovery will not be the one he wants."

"Will do." He replied, hanging up the phone and letting out a stuttering breath.

Perhaps it was time he visited Frankie.

1 month prior...

Fish stared at his pills on the tray. He didn't know what any of them were or what they were doing to help him. So for the past month, he'd stopped taking them. He hid them and flushed them when Lilly took him to the bathroom. An activity that she loathed.

The longer he went without the pills the clearer things became. He wasn't forgetting things like before. He was starting to remember.

Turning his head at the sound of the door opening he shuddered at the sight of Lily walking in. She'd painted her face with her best fake smile as she carried in his lunch. The same thing she made him every day and despite no longer taking his pills. He still couldn't stomach it. He felt so weak. He wanted to fight back but he'd lost the will. He wanted to fight her. To confront her. He wanted to hold his baby. 3 months of her life he'd missed out on being stuck in his bed. He caught glimpses of her but he wasn't involved in her life.

Not anymore.

He knew he couldn't go on like this. He needed to confront her. To change his situation but the timing had to be right. So he bided his time. Allowed the memories to keep on flowing and sure enough. That day returned.

...

"You aren't taking her Francisco." Lilly growled as she watched him pack her things into a bag whilst standing guard over his crib.

"I am." He snapped "I am taking her and myself away from you. I am keeping her and me safe from you."

"Safe?"

"You hit me LIL." He shouted and Izzy started to scream "You seriously think that you won't raise your hand to her one day?"

"I would never."

"Well, I'm not willing to take that chance."

"You won't leave me." She growled and he turned just in time to see her pounce.

He didn't have a chance as the back of his legs hit the windowsill to stop himself from falling. It all happened so fast and yet as he watched the window shrink it felt like time had slowed to a snail's pace. His eyes locked with hers as she watched him from the window and then pain erupted through his body. Pain, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He'd been shot, several times and even stabbed yet this pain, in the few seconds he felt it, was the worst.

Then everything went black.

...

"You pushed me."

"I what?"

"You pushed me from that Window Lilly." He growled, eyes burning into hers "I was leaving you and you pushed me."

"You're delirious Frankie." She snorted "Probably your meds."

"I've not been taking them." He growled, "My heads never been clearer."

"You need to take your meds Frank or you won't get better." She snapped and he rolled his eyes at her.

"You've been preventing that though haven't you?" He pauses, eyes settling on the wheelchair in the corner "I've not been to any physio so if there was a chance that I might walk again there isn't now. It's been almost 4 months since I left the hospital Lil and I've wasted to nothing."

"Frank."

He said nothing else and she left. His phone gripped tightly in his hand as he waited to hear footsteps down the stairs before he pulled it out. His hands shook as he typed out the message, not wanting to chance her hearing him on the phone. His fingers shook as he typed those two words.

Help me

Little did he know that Lilly had covered all bases. His message never made it to Ben.

Ben knocked three times and waited. Nothing.

He knocked again but still nothing and so he decided to pop around the back. He knew Frank kept a secret key under the herb pot by the back door. Sure enough, it's there and he sprints back to the front door where he wiggles the key like Fish had shown him one time and after a small battle the key turned and the lock clicked. He stepped gingerly into the house, careful not to disturb anything as he moved through Frankie's house. It was clear the further he got that that Lilly wasn't home and so he made his way upstairs to the door he'd last see Frankie behind.

Pushing it open his stomach sank.

His lips were blue and his chair stuttered with each strained breath that he took. Ben was at his side in a heartbeat, sobbing at the state he found his friend in as he pulled out his phone and dialled 911. He pulled away the smelly blanket that covered his friend's fragile body and found his phone clutched in his hands. It was dead but Ben knew that it meant something. So he tucked it into his pocket and he waited for the paramedics to arrive, praying his friend would hold out just a little longer.

"Ben?" Came a weak voice and he jumped, looking down to see his brown eyes through hooded lids.

"Yeah, buddy it's me." Ben choked "I'm here and help is coming just hold on okay?"

"She hurt me." He said, barely above a whisper.

"I know Fish." Ben choked, eyes brimmed with tears "But she won't anymore."

"No." He replied with a weak smile as his eyes fluttered closed and his body relaxed.

He let out an audible puff of air and then he grew still and Ben shattered. He fumbled for a pulse and found none. He went into autopilot, laying Frankie down and tilting his head back only to stop when he saw how frail his friend truly was. CPR probably wouldn't save him.

Voices floated up the stairs and he called out as loudly as he could through the tears that consumed him and then there was a flurry of movement.

"He's gone." Ben sobbed as he was pulled from his friend "She fucking killed him."

He fell to his knees and rocked as the paramedics worked to bring Frankie back, one shocking him as the other pumped air into his dormant lungs.

"He's back." Called one and Ben threw up, the adrenaline that had coursed through him plummeting in the blink of an eye.

He was helped to his feet and he followed them out to the ambulance, numbly climbing in the back and watching as Frankie was manoeuvred inside. The doors slammed shut and the sirens blared as they screamed down the streets towards what Ben hoped would be Frankie's salvation.

Will and Ben sat in silence staring at a scene they never thought they'd see again. Frankie was once again being kept alive by machines because of her. Dr Sears had taken over his care again which had given the boys a little comfort but it had broken them to learn how poor a condition their friend was in. The clincher had been the overdose. When Ben had found him, Frankie had been OD'ing on the pain pills that he'd been prescribed only they all knew he was too weak to have done it himself. So Ben had managed to find a charger for Frank's phone and hoped that when he got it open, it would be the evidence he needed to take her down.

They couldn't believe they were back here. Will's plan all those months ago should have worked but she'd been too clever for that. He'd gone back and spoken to the neighbour. The man had leapt at the chance to help Frankie but she'd cottoned on and was clever about how she was when the man was close by so they were left with nothing.

What surprised them more was the fact she didn't show her face at all in the first week he was in the hospital. No, she came on his 10th day. All tears and heartbroken only everyone knew it was an act. It would be her final mistake. As she sat at his side, Isabella asleep in Ben's arms, the police came.

"Lilly Morales, we are arresting on suspicion of the attempted murder of your husband, Francisco Morales." They started as she desperately tried to pull herself free from the grasp "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say can and may be used in evidence against you." The cop continued, giving her her rights as she was dragged from the glass room.

Ben and Will watched with a sense of pride filling their chest. They'd done it.

Frankie's phone had revealed a lot to them. He'd photographed the medication she'd been giving him. Voice recorded their conversations and he'd even managed to capture the moment she'd force-fed him the pills that almost killed him but that hadn't been the part that hard broken Benny the most.

No the part that had killed him was the failed text he'd found. The text Frankie had tried to send him with two words that would haunt him forever. Help Me...

He knew he couldn't dwell on that now. He had to be strong for Fish and Izzy and so after very little convincing to the social worker that had arrived a short while later, Izzy went home with them where she would stay until Frank was well again.

8 months later...

The party was in full swing. Screaming kids and shouting parents being swallowing the music that played on Ben's sound system. He looked around at the house he shared with his brother and smiled. It had been a hard road but they'd made it. He'd made it.

Frankie had woken from his coma two months later. His body had been so weak that the doctors hadn't thought we would make it but as Will had kept saying. Fish kept swimming.

Lilly was given life for what she'd done and Frankie had been given sole custody of his daughter.

Will had taken him to his physio and after 5 months of weekly sessions, Frankie had regained the feeling in his legs. He'd slowly relearned how to move one foot in front of the other and now instead of a wheelchair he only needed crutches to move around.

"This party's great." Ben looked up to see Frankie leaning on the counter beside him and the younger man studied him a moment.

He'd gained weight and muscle, his skin was once again its usual golden tan and Ben was relieved to see how well he looked. He'd been forced to have a feeding tube for another two months after he left the hospital, his malnourishment meaning he struggled to eat and keep it down. Ben had administered his meals for him and it had been a difficult time for the pilot, relying on his best friend to push nourishment through a tube down his nose but eventually, he started to gain weight and his ability to stomach food improved. He was still living with the brothers now but he had come less and less reliant on them as time went on. He was able to hold his daughter. Take her on days out and make her dinner. He was ready to go home.

"Yeah, Will can throw a decent shindig when he wants." Ben replied, grinning at his friend "Izzy having a good time?"

"Yeah." Replied Fish with a smile but his expression said something else "She's been asking about her mum. Where she is. I keep telling her that mummy's gone away for a while but I know that I'll have to tell her the truth eventually."

"But not today." Ben reassured him "Today we celebrate her turning two. We'll deal with the mum stuff later."

"Her mum rang. Asked if she could come to the party." Frankie stated and Ben gave him a wide-eyed look "Said that she deserved to be at her granddaughter's party."

"What did you say?"

"I said no." He replied frankly "She still calls at least once a week to accuse me of lying. That her daughter is innocent and that I will rot in hell for what I've done to her family. Didn't fancy that schpiel to my face."

"Don't blame ya'. Clearly, psychos run in the family." Ben snorted and Frankie gave him a sheepish look "Look Izzy is a wonderful kid. I don't see a thing of her mum in her. She's all, you brother."

"I'm just worried she'll resent me one day."

"Fish. You were abused by your wife."

"Don't say it too loudly Ben."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of Frank." Ben groaned "She hurt you and now she's paying for that. Lilly's behind you now. You have a beautiful baby who loves you and two guys who love you too. We're family Fishsticks."

Frankie nodded, one single tear slipping down his cheek as Benny pulled him into a tight hug. He knew the worst was behind him so he had to look ahead to the future. He was free and he was a father. He could walk again despite the odds and he was getting stronger every day.

He was safe.

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