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juletheghoul · 23 days

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Castaways (Part 1)

AN: Before I get into the notes for this - I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who took the time to send me a message / comment on my post, it meant a lot to me. 💜💜💜 As for this story, I started writing it in Sept of 2022, after watching the Harrison Ford movie, Six Days, Seven Nights lol. I had a lot of it down pretty quickly but eventually, I stopped. Now that new ideas aren't as bountiful as they once were, I started combing through all of the half-finished works in my docs and I fell back in love with this one. Hopefully you enjoy it. I have an ending planned out so there will definitely be a part 2! Shout out to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments in this doc. Enjoy xox.

Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader (Princess as a nickname)

Warnings; C o m p e t e n c y - a very brief snake…encounter?-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy with gusto (when doesn't he), creampie, longing, yearning, a helicopter crash (nothing too graphic), reader is spoiled at first and generally kind of snobby- enemies to lovers? Bit of a slow burn! let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 13k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

The click of your heels sounded throughout the airy hangar with a purpose, the echoing sound of it heralding your journey to give someone—anyone hell.

A quick flick of your wrist reminds you how late you already were for the retreat booked in your private slice of paradise; the private jet your father paid a fortune for had made an emergency stop in Puerto Rico- some nonsense about a storm.

Unacceptable.

An imperious sigh leaves your mouth -not a single person to lay into anywhere in sight, and it leaves you no choice but to head outside to see if there is a plane you could commandeer.

—

He wipes the grease onto the legs of his well-worn work coveralls, his previous scowl gone and replaced with a triumphant smile - finally got that fucking bolt off-

“Excuse me-” He turns toward the sound and is greeted by a very annoyed-looking woman. “Hi, do you know where I can find a pilot? There’s no one in the hangar.” She drags a very expensive-looking suitcase behind her with one hand, the other holding a ridiculously large hat onto her head.

“Hi, yes I’m a pilot - most of the staff have gone home, a big storm coming soon-”

“Perfect, can I hire you to fly me to this island?” Her fingers flew across the no-doubt latest model of smartphone in her hands - ignoring the shocked expression on his face at being so rudely interrupted. “This one here, I need to be there like three hours ago, and I would be there now if we hadn’t stopped here - you know where this is, right? Can you take me?” She all but shoves the phone into his face.

“No.” He carefully moves her manicured hand away from his face, and a tiny, cruel little part of him enjoys the shock in her expression - he very quickly gets the impression that this girl is not used to hearing the word. “As I was saying - everyone has gone home, a lot of people were grounded here, myself included. There is a big thunderstorm coming. Not safe to fly until it passes. Shouldn’t last too long - a quick squall - come back tomorrow, and I’ll happily fly you there.” He then turns to continue his work.

“Money is no object, but I need to leave now,” she says it through a huffed breath, and his eyebrows raise.

“And yet, my answer is still no.” He’s annoyed now. In truth, it was a fairly quick flight - he knew the island she’d shown him, had made the trip before, and it would be less than an hour, but her attitude was a black mark against her. Her phone trills then, a cheery tone, momentarily snatching her attention from him.

“Hi, Dad, yeah, I know. I’m at the hangar, looking for a ride.” She taps her foot, and it sets his teeth on edge. “There is a pilot here, but he says he won’t fly me.” She narrows her eyes at him when he turns to look at her, listening to the other half of the conversation he wasn’t privy to. “I’ll tell him- Sorry-” She inspects his name tag, “Francisco, my father says if you get me to the island within the hour, he’ll make it worth your while. Name your price.”

“I don’t know what part of it isn’t safe isn’t registering-” She raises her voice and speaks over him.

“He’ll pay you ten thousand dollars.” Her tone is loud but bored. “Besides - the skies are gorgeous - I’m sure we can make it before anything happens.” She waits a moment, “Plus another five grand when you land. And you can have accommodations until tomorrow - room service, the works. Just please - get me there.” Her eyes are hopeful, and for a brief moment, he acknowledges how pretty she is, or - would be, if she wasn’t such an insufferable princess.

He knew he should have said no. Knew he should have turned her down and followed the guidelines, but that kind of money would change his life. Change their lives- it would have been insane for him to turn it down.

“Fine.” He relents, shoving down the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll be your pilot. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.” She almost jumps with joy, and he can’t hide the annoyed expression on his face.

“Done - okay, I’ll be there soon, Dad! Bye.”

He was covered in grease.

You had to remind yourself not to wrinkle your nose at him. You supposed he could be handsome, in a scruffy, working man way, but that's beside the point. He was your saving grace right now, and that counted for a lot.

He fiddles with the engine of the helicopter for a moment more while he leaves you to wrestle your suitcase in by yourself, thankfully without breaking a nail.

“Alright - just going to perform a couple of checks, and we’ll be in the air.” He got in and began flicking switches, turning knobs, and checking over all manner of gauges while you made yourself as comfortable as was possible in the cramped little aircraft. It was hard, though, with your suitcase practically digging into your back behind you.

It’s fine. I’ll just have to get a massage once I land.

“Okay, we’re off.” He has his headset on, and you are in the air within a few moments. That, unfortunately, seemed to be the end of your good luck.

Whether by some cruel design, by the fates or gods, or whatever entity dictated the events of your life - it didn’t take twenty minutes in the air for the sky to turn a foreboding gray.

“That doesn’t look good,” he says, the words loud enough to be heard over the noise, his eyes quickly scanning the horizon, no doubt taking in the dark clouds flanking either side of the already rickety helicopter.

“It came out of nowhere.” One minute, the sky was blue, and the next, lightning forked the sky in the distance.

“No, it didn’t - I told you a storm was coming. This is too dangerous - I’m going to have to turn around for our safety.” He maneuvers the controls, and you have no choice but to agree despite your annoyance.

It all happened so fast.

Something strikes the aircraft, the sound of it booming in your ears so loud it hurts, and then he’s frantic. Manically pressing buttons and calling through the radio, but from the frustrated and frankly terrified expression, no one is answering.

“Fuck, tighten your seatbelt, we’re going down!” He grits his teeth, and all of a sudden, you are spinning, a scream being ripped from your throat - your heart falling out of your ass. “Impact coming - brace yourself!” he screams before the world goes black.

Someone is making noise, a low groaning noise that pulls him out from the depths of unconsciousness, he’s only mildly surprised to realize it is him.

The helicopter - his helicopter wasn’t making any noise, which was bad.

Under normal circumstances, it would be broadcasting out a signal beacon that would bring in a rescue team, but as it stood right now - without blinking lights or a working radio - it had gone completely silent.

Lighting must have fried it. Fuck.

He took stock of his situation. Luckily, he doesn’t feel any injuries aside from horrible whiplash. No blood, no broken bones. A softer groan comes from the woman beside him; she’s still out, and he couldn’t see any injuries- he’d know when she woke up.

I could kill you right now.

He thought the words, sighing loudly to himself before finding a way out of the cockpit. He’d managed to move most of what he had in the helicopter out onto the sand by the time she woke.

“Jesus Christ - what the hell happened?” She stumbles out, barely managing to stop herself from eating shit in the process, unfortunately.

“What happened is the storm I warned you about many times caught us in the air and grounded us here.” He’s laying out his supplies, lengths of rope, his toolbox, and empty water jugs. He has a small case with a flare gun, an emergency kit filled with first aid supplies, and a massive tarp. There are a few more things to go through, but it is important they find a source of freshwater soon, or they won’t last two days, especially with the heat making his clothes stick to his body.

She sighs loudly, struggling to make her way through the sand in those ridiculous heels she’s wearing

“And now we’re stuck here, on an island when, where I should be, is home with my-“

“Can’t you call mayday or something? My father is expecting me. I’m sure he’ll have an army looking for us.” She’s digging through her purse frantically, ignoring the scathing look he’s giving her.

Spoiled little brat, you only care about yourself, huh?

“Wow. You know what? That’s a great idea! Why the hell didn’t I think of that?” He can’t hold back. “Oh! I know, it’s because we were struck by lightning, and it fried everything, so whatever army your father sends won’t find us -there is no signal to hone in on.” He scowls at her, annoyed that she isn’t paying attention to him even now. “Doesn’t help that a lot of these islands that are usually full of tourists are uninhabited after the hurricane that hit a few months ago.”

“So we’re stuck here???” Her eyes are wild as they look past him, to the beach just beyond, and then to the thick greenery behind them. “This cannot be happening right now,” she spoke to herself.

“Where the fuck is my phone??” She moves and makes her way back into the cockpit, all but ripping the aircraft apart before- “Fuck! You have got to be fucking kidding me! Don’t you have some kind of satellite phone or something??” She’s tapping at the deeply damaged screen, it completely destroyed.

He couldn’t help but bark out cruel laughter.

“I don’t know what planet you’re on. People - regular people don’t just have satellite phones, sweetheart.” He got up from his place in the sand, making sure to put the flares back in the helicopter.

“Great. Just great.” She sighs loudly, “So we’re stuck here. Do you even know where here is?” She fishes into her bag once more, pulling out a bottle of what looks to be sunscreen, and squeezing out some to spread over her exposed skin.

“No. I don’t, but the heat is going to kill us if we don’t find water soon. Grab one of those jugs, and let’s go find water. You might want to change your shoes.” He pushes her suitcase at her, ignoring the shocked look on her face. “Chop chop, princess, let’s move.”

This couldn’t be happening, this could not be happening!

Right now, you should have been mingling with Louis, the gorgeous, billionaire bachelor your father invited to your private resort. You could almost picture it, the classy yet sexy outfit you’d be wearing while you flirted over a drink by the infinity pool. Broadening your horizons and nailing down the rich husband you deserve.

Instead, you’re here - stuck in the sand with the world's grumpiest pilot, trying desperately to get your phone to work, but it’s no use.

You can almost see the frantic look on your mother's face now that it was obvious that you hadn’t made it at the scheduled time, she and your father were probably coordinating with the military right this second, with the Navy.

What the fuck am I going to do-

The jug hits your lap, scaring you half to death.

“Come on, princess, let’s get moving. We have to find fresh water before we die of dehydration out here.” He’s standing a few feet away, staring at you with his perpetual scowl. “Change your shoes, and let’s go.”

“What’s wrong with my shoes?” They were pretty sensible as far as your sandals went, respectable heels, and relatively comfortable. His scowl deepens.

“You cannot stumble around the island in those, you’ll break an ankle, and I am not fucking dealing with that.” His eyes narrow. “Tell me you brought a pair of runners in that giant trunk.”

“Of course I did,” your tone is icy as you get up with a huff. You quickly changed into them, and then you were off.

The terrain got more and more treacherous the further you got from the powdery white sand of the beach. Dirt and bramble gave way to thick, almost jungle-like vegetation, making the trek harder and harder as time slogged by.

The sound of running water greets the two of you like a siren song, spurring your tired, sweat-soaked body to move quicker, and the sight that meets you once you break the dense treeline could've made you moan. You jump into the water to cool your heated skin, ignoring the warning from Francisco.

“You should get out of there.” He’s at the edge of the clearish water, filling the jugs quickly.

He seems to be determined to infuse his sour attitude into everything, your mouth opened to tell him to relax when something brushes past your leg. At first, you think it might be a piece of underwater flora, but it becomes apparent very quickly that it’s something far worse.

“Francisco.” His eyes met yours, “Francisco, something just swam into my shorts, I-I think it’s a snake.” Your voice trembles slightly, hands itching to pull whatever it was out, but his voice cuts through the urge.

“Don’t move- are you sure it’s a snake?” He put the jugs down beside him, moving closer to you, descending slowly into the water.

“Yes, It’s coiling around my thigh, moving up - I need it out right now, I wanna just grab it-“ Your head tilts down, but he stops you.

“Don’t move! It could be venomous.” He wades into the water towards you slowly, too slowly. Your heart’s racing, hands shaking as you wait for him to reach you.

“Help me, get it out, get it out!” your voice is almost manic, desperation colouring every single inch of you.

“Okay, okay, calm - deep breath.” You followed his example as best you could, trying yet failing to ignore the slithering against your skin. “Slowly pull your waistband away from your body, and I’ll see if I can grab it,” his tone had lowered, a soothing timbre reminding you for a moment of how a teacher would speak to a student.

It helps.

You did as he asked, pulling at the waistband of your shorts, all thoughts of propriety forgotten, and within a moment, his hand was shoved down deep - a rather large hand fighting with whatever it was that had made camp in your pants.

He bit his lip in concentration, bodily pulling you towards him as he struggled. A moment later, he was raising it up triumphantly.

A huge shiver went down your spine at the sight of it, spurring you to get out of the water as fast as humanly possible.

“Jesus Christ, it’s just one fucking thing after another,” you spoke as you made it out without incident, ignoring the huge sigh he let out behind you. “Thank you for that.” He was following closely behind you, not interested, it seemed, in having a similar experience.

“Don’t mention it. Let's fill these and get back to the beach.” He hands you a couple of empty jugs, and you reluctantly got to work.

All things considered, they were lucky. Frankie knew that. His helicopter - albeit small - was surprisingly well-equipped to handle being stranded. He had an emergency survival kit, purchased partly under the insistence of his mother but mostly so he never had to relive what had happened to him a few years ago. He’d tried not to think about it, but walking through the foliage back to the crash site had brought it all back. Vividly.

He pushed it away, shoved it down deep where he kept the rest of his issues - instead choosing to focus on what they needed to do. They needed some form of shelter, and soon.

“I am sweltering,” her voice was low behind him, whiny with the distinct tone of someone who had never truly been uncomfortable a day in her life. “Fucking starving.”

“Most likely, you’re dehydrated. Once we get back to the beach, we can figure out the water,” he spoke over his shoulder. “Have to make camp if we’re going to be here for a while.” They broke through the treeline, seeing his helicopter on the beach like a pile of old bones broke his heart a little - his only connection to home, to his little girl. He pushes it all away again.

“So how do we get this water drinkable?” she huffs out the words, dropping the jugs next to his laid-out supplies with great effort.

“We have to set up a purifying system, filter it, and then boil it.” He crouches down towards his supplies, looking for something clean he could use as a sieve. Luckily, he always kept an overnight bag with him, in case of being grounded somewhere, but he only had three shirts in there, he couldn’t burn one since he didn’t know exactly how long they’d be stuck there.

“I don’t have much in terms of clothes - you got anything we could use?” He looks up at her, “Something simple, a cotton t-shirt? Something we could use to strain the water.” He walks towards her trunk, waiting for her to open it up.

She opens it reluctantly, rifling through her things for a moment before handing over a simple white shirt. “Any chance I’ll be able to wear that again?” her voice is vaguely annoyed.

“I’m sure Daddy won’t mind buying you a new one.” She gives him an expression that could curdle milk. He ignores it. Instead, he busies himself, setting the jugs of water somewhere relatively level. He felt her eyes on him, and it compelled him to explain what he did as he worked. “We have to let the water settle for about an hour, let the sediment sink to the bottom, then strain it, then boil it.” Not for the first time in his life, he was happy to have his military gear within reach.

He works fast - you have to give him that.

As much as he grumbles and looks at you like you are the devil incarnate - you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly intelligent. Within a few hours of getting back to the camp, he had built an impressive fire, filtered the jugs of water, and had boiled most of it.

“Tomorrow, we’ll get to work building some sort of shelter,” he spoke after he finally sat down, the first break he’d taken all day. “Have to go about looking for food too, I saw some fruit trees - we’ll grab them on the way back from getting more water.” His eyes are heavy, you can see it in the way he blinked slower and slower.

“We have to make that trek again?” your voice is shrill, he sighs loudly.

“We’ll have to make that trek every single day until we’re rescued. Water is the most important thing. No delivery service here, princess,” his voice is sleepy, the usual bite in his words softened by the need for sleep.

“How will anyone find us?” The worry is evident in your voice.

“I have a flare gun and three flares - we’ll be able to signal someone. Go to bed, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” He gestures to the helicopter–lovely, this will be comfortable.

—

The knock on the helicopter window ripped you out of sleep, your heart racing as you clutched at your chest.

“Wake up, princess.” He taps on the glass and through bleary eyes, you take note of the smile on his face as he wakes you up, “We have work to do.” He taps one last time and then leaves you.

You flash him the middle finger as he turns and laughs, annoying you even more.

You join him on the beach a little later, ignoring the ache in your body from sleeping in a half seated position. God I really need that massage.

“I’m going to make the trek for more water, while I do that you are going to gather palm fronds.” He had a jug in his hand as he moved towards the treeline. For a moment you panicked, the thought of being alone causing your heart to sink.

“Wait, you’re leaving me alone?” You moved a few steps towards him, catching yourself before making it to him. “I mean–um,” You raised your chin at the surprised look on his face, ignoring it. “How many fronds?” There was an abundance of them, both on the ground and in the trees just beyond the sand. He paused, giving you a curious look.

“As many as you can, we’ll need way more than you think.” He turned then, and left you to it.

Time crawled by while you were alone, with only your thoughts and the sound of waves to accompany you. Sweat dripped down your brow as you gathered, gathered and gathered some more. Enough fronds that it made a huge pile beside the fire pit Francisco had made. Your stomach growling almost constantly now–the hunger so intense it was making you light headed.

Branches snapped, drawing your gaze towards his form. He had the jug in one hand and a stalk of bananas in the other. It was enough to make you moan.

“This is good, but it’s not enough. We have to gather more - have to cut down a bunch of bamboo too.” He put the jug next to the others before joining you where you sat. “Here, you must be starving.” He ripped off a handful of the glorious fruit and tossed them into your lap.

Nothing had ever tasted so good.

“Jesus Christ, I thought I would pass out.” You knew you had fruit on your face, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. “Thank you.” You peeled another, eating it just as quickly as the first.

“Don’t mention it. Okay, let's get to work.”

Your fingers were sore, your back was sore, every single part of you was sore. Hours crawled by with the sun beating down on you both as you weaved fronds together. He had you create sheets and sheets of it, had you help him cut down enough bamboo to build a house. He did the heavy lifting and made what looked like a crude rope tying together the bamboo in layers strong enough to hold both of you.

Wordlessly, he worked, the sweat dripping down his face, soaking through his shirt like a marathon runner until it was a hindrance and he took it off, used it as a rag that hung limp over his shoulders. This was much worse than a marathon, though, much worse than any workout you’d ever done in your life, and although you’d never say it out loud, you were incredibly thankful he was here.

I probably would have died by now.

It was a terrifying thought that without him, you wouldn’t survive - you shoved it away. It wouldn’t matter soon because your parents would be looking, and they wouldn’t stop until they found you.

“Come lay on this, I want to see if it’ll hold both of us.” He stood over the platform, laying on it as you came closer. It held. “Perfect. We’ll be elevated off the sand, less chance of bugs or crabs biting us, and it’ll be cooler than the helicopter.” He let out a weary, tired sigh.

“You’re expecting us both to sleep on this?” You couldn’t help your tone, and instantly you felt bad. He’d worked very hard on this. His brow furrowed.

“You’re welcome to sleep where you want. I’ll be on this.” He got up, his scowl now back in place, “I’m going to finish here and then go fishing. Keep weaving.”

Quietly, you got back to work.

In all his years, Francisco had never met someone so spoiled and self-serving - even though he’d expected it from her, it still hurt. He didn’t know why - why it would matter that some spoiled rich brat was acting like a spoiled rich brat; maybe it was the lack of gratitude. He was useful, he was smart and he had skills that he knew for a fact she’d die without.

He stewed over it as he swam towards a large boulder protruding out of the water near the shore. A perfect spot to catch the fish that swam around in the reef below the surface.

I should let her starve. Find her own food and her own water.

He wouldn’t, though, he couldn’t. All his life, he’d been taught to be a good person, to help where he could and after what had happened in that jungle - he shook it off, pushed it down. Ignored the cruel, petty voice in his head and set about catching something to eat. All the while keeping an eye on the horizon for a boat - for any sign that people were looking for him. That his people were looking for him.

He let himself think about them, really think about them for the first time since the crash. His parents, his little girl, let himself feel the emptiness of being without them. He let the waves of it crash over him just as the ocean around him crashed into the shore, and then he put it away.

She was still working when he came back with his catch, her face scrunched up in concentration - ignoring her, he went about doing what needed to be done.

“Is this enough?” Her voice cut through his concentration, and he nodded noncommittally - leaving the prepped fish on a relatively clean piece of driftwood he’d found.

“Hold this.” He stood at the corner of the raised bed and had her hold a tall, sturdy piece of bamboo. His plan was to make a small frame around the base, use the tarp in order to waterproof it, and lay the fronds all around to protect them from the winds that blew through here in bad weather.

She watched him work in silence, standing where he told her to stand, holding what he told her to hold and eventually, finally - they finished. It was as solid a structure as he could manage without planks of wood or nails, strong enough to survive against a moderate storm and to keep them off the sand.

He’d used the tarp to cover the roof and three sides, leaving one open for them - him to enter. On top were rows of fronds to catch rainwater and prevent it from pooling in the tarp, the rest of the unused woven sheets she’d made laid inside to use as bedding. With the emergency blanket and his military bedroll this would make a decent bed.

All in all, he was proud of himself, he took the raw materials he’d found on this island, and fashioned himself – themselves a shelter.

His stomach growled. It was time to start that fire.

Your stomach was screaming out in hunger. The bananas had been wonderful, but they weren’t enough.

“Are you sure that’s safe to eat?” You watched him wrap the fish in banana leaves and put it into red hot embers; you couldn’t help but be slightly dubious about eating something he’d just pulled out of the ocean. He sighed loudly before answering.

“You don’t have to eat it,” he sounded tired, and you supposed he must have been with how hard he’d worked. “It’s edible. I’ve caught this fish before.” He wiped at his brow with the shirt around his shoulders, his skin slightly pink from the sun.

You didn’t say anything, still unsure, but when the time came for him to unwrap the blackened leaves, your stomach growled loudly. It looked very good.

He didn’t offer any, instead, he snatched a piece of the steaming, flaky fish and popped it into his mouth, relishing the taste with a loud groan and a big smile. A nice smile, in truth.

“Maybe I’ll try a little bit.” You scooted closer to where he sat in the sand, unable to resist it.

“Here, careful - it’s very hot.” He tore a piece of a fresh banana leaf and gave you a decently sized filet, and with singed fingers and zero patience, you took a bite.

It was, without a doubt, the most delicious thing you’d ever eaten.

“Good?” He ate quickly, his expression amused at your very obvious enjoyment of the ‘dubious’ fish.

“It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever had.” You meant every word, and licked every last morsel off your fingers.

It was incredibly dark by the time the food was eaten, and the fire had died out. Francisco was attaching a piece of netting to the open side, and once he was done, he climbed in without another word.

The helicopter felt safe, enclosed and a space you could lock, but the shelter would have airflow. It would be infinitely cooler to sleep in. You knew that, eventually that helicopter would turn into a greenhouse that felt more like an oven. Not to mention how horrible it was to sleep sitting up.

Every second that passed made the shelter look more and more appealing, and after quickly changing into clean clothes, you slipped in silently, but it didn’t even matter, he was already asleep.

—

He woke to the feeling of soft breath on his back, the air was significantly cooler than it had been during midday, and now, in the early dawn of the morning she was seeking him out for warmth. It was in him to pull away, to deny her, but instead, he stayed motionless. Let her even breath comfort him for a few moments before he eventually rose to bathe in the ocean. Her hand was draped around his middle, pressing herself flat to him while she slept, completely oblivious.

He thought about how scandalized she’d be to know she was being so intimate with him; it almost made him laugh, but soon, that internalized mirth shifted to something bitter, something close to anger. He was only too aware that when she looked at him, she saw ‘the help’; someone like her could never see him as anything other than someone else to pay off, the person hired to do things below her. She shifted in her sleep, burrowing closer, her soft puffs of air ruffling the hair curling at the base of his skull.

Why does that bother me? I don’t even care about this person.

He sighed, confused with himself over these baffling feelings of inadequacy, frustrated that being close to another person felt good. Annoyed that he didn’t want to pull away - no matter how much of a brat she was. If she woke now and saw them tangled, she’d be embarrassed, perhaps even disgusted, he knew this for a certainty. So he left her.

Dawn found you almost frustratingly well-rested, as well as alone. All doubts that may have lingered about the craftsmanship of the shelter evaporated like the morning dew. A long, much-needed stretch is the catalyst that moves you out of the shelter, making sure to close the netting on your way to grab your toiletry bag when he catches your eye from his place in the water. The early morning sun lit up the surface like diamonds. He was running his hands through his hair, wringing out the shirt he’d been wearing the day before. His skin was golden, the high planes of his face kissed by the sun's rays, his shoulders too. You watched him for a time, unable to ignore the breadth of his shoulders - the pleasant sight of his thighs and it was hard not to stare at him when he rose out of the water, the droplets from his golden skin casting a sort of spell on their way back down to earth.

His hands were something else altogether, weaving their own magic the closer he came to shore, from the way they wrung out the shirt easily to the way they adjusted his considerable bulge as he walked, and you looked away quickly, ignoring the curious heat crawling up your chest.

He found you brushing your teeth, pointedly looking away.

“I’m going to go look for more fruit.” He spoke as he put the wrung-out shirt to dry next to some of the other things he’d washed before changing out of his wet boxers behind the cover of the helicopter. “You should gather more firewood, things to burn for tonight.” When he came back around, he was dressed in a clean white tee and a pair of shorts. Looking for all the world like a man on vacation.

“I’m coming with you.” You rose from your place in the sand quickly, shuffling to reach him before he left you. “I’d rather not wait around.”

“Fine, come on then.” With that, you both set off into the trees.

The morning was full of birdsong and sunlight, bright buttery shafts of it cutting through the trees while the former echoed around you.

“This would be a gorgeous place to vacation.” He echoed your thoughts as you followed a faint path in the brush.

“I guess, would need a vast improvement.” Like a hotel, and an actual landing strip maybe. He laughed low, his eyes looking high into the trees.

“I don’t know, I don’t mind it being a bit rustic.” He pointed ahead, a few coconut trees catching his attention.

“This is more than a bit rustic I’d say. God I can’t wait until my parents find me. I should be by the pool right now, mingling with Louis.” Your palm smacks against the first of surely many bites rising on your skin.

“That your boyfriend?” He’s serious now, scooping a couple of coconuts from the floor and dropping them into your arms.

“No, but he should be. He’s an insanely wealthy man my father invited to our private island, where I should be right now.” You sighed loudly, annoyed at the situation all over again. “Soon. Soon, I will be back where I belong. God, my mother is probably worried sick, you know?” You stood there, holding onto the coconuts he stacked in your arms before moving on to find more fruit.

“Sure.” He all but grunts, moving carefully through the brush. “I get it-“

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the military is out searching for me right now.” An image of handsome Louis frantically joining the search with your parents makes your stomach flip.

I wonder if he is worried about me?

“Focus.” His voice rips you out of your daydream. “Let’s grab some more bananas, and head back.” He seems annoyed - he’s always annoyed.

“I hate this.” Your arms ache from holding the heavy coconuts. “Shouldn’t we be building a signal fire or something?” You can hear the whining tone, but you can’t stop it. Must everything be so hard?

“And just what are we meant to signal? Seen a bunch of planes, have you?” His tone is icy, his expression angry. “Cruise ships sailing by us every hour?” He finds a banana tree and cuts down a stalk, his movements aggressive.

“Well no-“

“Exactly. We’re on our own, which means until the military or whoever is looking for you finds this island- we have to work.” He props the bananas against his shoulder and turns back towards the camp, pointedly ignoring the way you struggle to keep up with him.

You’re already covered in sweat by the time you make it back to camp, breathing hard and soaking through your clothes.

“Jesus Christ, I cannot with these things.” You dump the coconuts next to the water jugs, shaking out your aching limbs. He sets the bananas next to them before moving to grab some firewood from the tree line. Your eyes scan the beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore; it would be pretty enough without the eye sore that is the helicopter.

“I cannot wait to be away from this hunk of junk.” His movements stop at your words.

“That hunk of junk was my entire fucking livelihood. I don’t have a rich daddy to just buy me a new one.” He tosses the wood pieces angrily into the pit, ignoring the recoil his tone inspired. “Not everyone has it so easy, princess.”

“No, I guess they don’t, sorry-“ he spoke over you.

“Forget it.” He let out a sigh. “Let’s just do what we can to survive until someone finds us.” His expression was cold, and you can’t help the guilt that blooms in the pit of your stomach.

“Sounds good.” The rest of the day passed by in silence.

—

The days both fly, and crawl by and Frankie works each and every one of them. He works to find them food, he works to reinforce their shelter - to make them as comfortable as he possibly can, all while trying his hardest not to lose his mind. The picture of his little girl burned a hole in his heart when he looked at it each night. He only hoped she knew he’d come back to her.

Being stuck on an island by himself would have been bad enough; the loneliness, the isolation would no doubt be detrimental to his mental health, to his hopes of being found, but this? This had to be worse.

She helped, but only because he pushed her to. He knew that if it were up to her - they would have long since starved. He watched her as he braided more palm fronds to pad the sleeping platform, she was washing some of the clothes she’d worn as best she could, and he couldn’t help but admit that she was pretty. Her face was pleasant to look at when her nose wasn’t turned up. He can’t help but like the shape of her, imagining her skin would be soft and silky - he’d definitely been on this island too long.

Doesn’t matter how attractive she is, she doesn’t want you, and you don’t want her.

He didn’t know if he was reminding himself, or convincing himself.

A noise in the treeline behind him stops him mid-braid and for a moment, he thinks there might be someone else on the island, but he realizes what it is and grabs his knife. If he plays this right, tonight they’d eat like kings.

A new appreciation was born of having to wash your own clothes, for electricity, for washing machines and dryers, for Tide pods. For the maids who did your laundry and for the people who did your drycleaning, for the neat drawers full of clean clothes waiting at home.

For now, these would have to do. They wouldn’t smell like your favourite fabric softener, but they’d be clean enough to wear here at least. Francisco had set up a makeshift laundry line from the helicopter to a leaning palm tree, his things hanging as you added your own, and you briefly considered folding his things for him when his absence caught your attention.

“Francisco?” you called out to him, ignoring the way your heart raced. Usually, when he went off to get water or fruit, he let you know; it was unlike him to leave without a word. There had to be a reason. He wouldn’t just abandon you, would he?

Grab a hold of yourself, where the hell would he even go?

He crashed through the trees, triumphant and laughing, and you shoved away the altogether too-big feeling of relief that washed over you to see him.

“Good news, Princess, there’s wild boar on the island.” It was the happiest you’d seen him, well, ever. “It’ll be hard, but I think I can catch one.” He was making his way towards his supplies, and very quickly, the relief turned to dread. “We’re going to feast-”

“You’re going to kill a wild pig?” It was very hard to keep the worry out of your tone, or off your face.

“What’s the matter, never had pork chops?” He frowned now, his hands on his hips facing you.

“I mean, yeah, but this is a little different than going to a butcher and grabbing a few chops. You’re going to hunt down the animal and kill it? I’m not into that. I don’t know if I could eat it.” He narrowed his eyes at you, no doubt preparing to rip you a new one. “It’s also incredibly dangerous - they have a tendency to gore people.” His expression changed at that, real consequences seemed to get through to him.

“I mean, it’s not that different, but fine.” The wind had gone out of his sails, “I’ll see if I can catch something in the water - you okay with that?” He grabbed his fishing gear, raising an eyebrow, and you nodded before he made his way towards the water. You knew he was probably cursing you for ruining whatever he imagined cooking, but still, you couldn’t help but consider it a victory.

Babe, the pig wouldn’t be dying on your watch, and neither would he. Instead, he returned to the camp a few hours later with a fish, a few crabs, and a look that said you better not have any complaints. You didn’t. None that you’d say out loud anyway.

Dinner was a quiet affair, tasty and filling with the fish and the added protein; you both went to sleep full, and ungored.

Something loud dragged you up and out of the haze of sleep. It was still dark, and the sun had not risen yet. The sound was definitely something loud - probably just a plane. You shot up, scrambling out of the shelter to see if what you were hearing was real, Francisco barely moved.

It was high up, but it was definitely a plane.

“Francisco! There’s a plane. Where are the flares?” You all but barrelled into the shelter to shake him out of his dreams.

“Hmmm, tired baby.” He was out of it but strong when he pulled you closer - you ignored the way your stomach flipped on its ass at his pet name.

“Francisco, let me go, there’s a plane!” You smacked at his face lightly, just enough to wake him up.

“Huh? A plane?” your words broke through his sleep-addled brain, and he shot up. “What kind of plane?” He was out and grabbing at his bag momentarily before he swore loudly, a sigh filling the quiet of the dawn. “You called me for a commercial plane? You didn’t actually fire a flare, did you?” The blood drained from his face momentarily.

“No, I would have, but I didn’t know where you put the flare gun.” You frowned at him, annoyed. “I thought they’d see it.”

“Thank Christ.” He took a deep breath, his hands on his hips, “That Is a commercial flight, and if you’d fired the flare, it would have not only been a waste of a flare, but you could have burned the shelter down, could have ruined our supplies.” He seemed angry, and that, in turn, pissed you off.

“I didn’t think about that, I was trying to help-“ You crossed your arms, ignoring the annoyed look on his face.

“With the altitude that plane has, it wouldn’t matter if we had a thousand flares; come to me before you try to signal anyone, got it Princess?” He didn’t wait for a response, instead, he got back into bed and didn’t mention the incident again.

You got back into the shelter, laying in the pre-dawn glow - conflicting feelings fighting for dominance within you. You stared at his back, at the soft curl of hair he wore like a halo, and the fluttering of your stomach won out for just a moment. The solid press of him holding you close while still asleep was strangely welcome, although you’d never admit it. His condescending tone came to mind then, he had a habit of speaking down to you, and while you could admit you weren’t the most knowledgeable in survival, you still deserved to be spoken to like an adult.

You fell asleep fighting the urge to both press yourself close, and smack him upside the head.

When morning well and truly came, it found you both in a terrible mood.

He was quiet, much like he always was when he was annoyed, so you left him with his thoughts and set off to find more fruit through the path you’d both taken to traveling every few days. Luckily, the island was bountiful, and there were plenty of bananas, coconuts, and even some mangoes, but there was only so much you could take and you decided to venture out a bit further, keeping your eyes peeled for something different.

After a while, you found a berry bush, a small variety you didn’t recognize at once, but they were a very gorgeous, deep purple colour. Thinking he might appreciate a change as much as you, you picked a few handfuls and wrapped them up in a banana leaf before continuing your scavenging.

This was where your luck ran out, however, and if there were other varieties of fruit, they weren’t for you to find. Instead, you picked up a few mangoes and a coconut on your way back.

You found him looking through his things from the helicopter, a scowl on his face.

“Hey, I found some berries-” He looked up at the sound of your voice, his brow furrowed at the smile on your face. “I figured you were probably getting sick of the same fruit we’d been eating. I was hoping to find something else, but no luck.” You set them down in front of him.

“You didn’t eat this, did you?” his voice was curt and you frowned.

“No, I thought we could share them-”

“These are toxic.” He tossed them into the sand, burying them with a heavy sigh. “Do me a favour and don’t grab shit you don’t know for sure is edible. You could have made us really sick.” He turned then and continued with his inventory. Embarrassment and annoyance burned through your veins.

“You don’t have to be such an asshole about it, you know.” The words came on almost by themselves, bubbling up in your throat at the sanctimonious look on his face.

“What?” He paused and turned to look you in the face.

“You don’t have to be so fucking mean to me all the time.” You crossed your arms, holding in the frustration that seemed to expand in your lungs like a horrible balloon. “All you do is talk down to me. I said I was sorry about almost using the flare-” He huffed out an almost amused laugh and it boiled your blood. “It’s not funny! I’m stuck out here with you and all you do is yell, or talk to me like I’m stupid. I’m a person, and I deserve basic human decency-”

“What’s my last name?” He crossed his arms, his voice calm, but his question stole the words right out of your mouth.

“What?”

“You heard me - what is my last name? What do you know about me? Aside from the fact that my first name is Francisco, and that I’m a pilot.” He stood, knocking the sand off his shorts.

“I don’t think you told me-”

“No, I haven’t - do you know anything about who might be looking for me? Do you have any idea if I have anyone waiting for me to get home?” Your stomach sank, the anger slowly bleeding away and being replaced with shame. “Any idea if I’m married, or if I have kids?” He’s angry now, the scowl bigger than ever before.

“No, I-I don’t know.” You took a step back.

“No. No, you don’t. You don’t know that I’m divorced, that my parents are probably worried sick. You don’t know that I have a daughter, that her name is Tatiana, and that she’s probably thinking her dad abandoned her, or worse - that he’s dead.” You recoiled at that.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Your voice feels small, and the shame in your belly grows, vines of guilt wrapping themselves around your throat.

“How could you? You’ve never fucking asked me a single thing about who I am as a person! All you’ve done is complain. Complain and talk to me endlessly about how much money your parents have, how you should be on a private island, and how much of a fucking eyesore my livelihood is, and any time I’ve opened my mouth to respond or explain how we’re both stuck here, you’ve spoken over me.” His words cut at you - you don’t know this man at all, and you never ever cared to ask. You don’t respond.

He was well and truly angry now, kicking sand away from himself in his frustration.

“I’m sorry-” He put his hands up.

“Don’t. I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to pull your weight, and maybe realize that I’m also a person, and that all your money means jackshit to me. I need you to treat me like a human being, not just a sounding board.” He walked away, leaving you with your guilt - a sad balloon deflating alone.

They were both quiet that night. With Francisco, it was mostly out of anger. The feelings of inadequacy and frustration he’d been bottling up had finally been spoken aloud, and now he was processing them, all while still being stuck on this godforsaken island.

For her, he could see it was pure guilt. From the subdued expression, from her quiet words and general withdrawal, he knew no one had ever been so honest with her before. He would have almost felt guilty, if he hadn’t been so annoyed and hurt at the way she’d treated him. Instead, they both avoided each other for the rest of the night - a silent shared meal before wordlessly falling asleep in the shelter.

He woke the next morning to the feeling of her pressed against him again.

Her deep, even breaths against the back of his neck were embarrassingly welcome, and he ignored the way his body responded. He let out a low, deep sigh, grateful that he was facing away, a shudder passing through his body at the thought of having to explain why he was as hard as a rock.

His hand traveled down to where her leg was draped over his hip, unable to resist feeling her skin for just a moment before he slowly untangled their limbs, and made his way towards the water.

—

Days passed, and they passed without much conversation. This particular morning was somehow even more quiet despite the constant sound of waves lapping at the shore. The anger had fizzled out, and what was left was more akin to silent resignation. The two of you danced around each other, performing what were now everyday tasks without uttering a single word. The hours slipping by wordlessly, that is, until your scream cut through the silence.

“What is it?” He was at your side quickly, his eyes wide with something that looked suspiciously like worry.

“I think I stepped on a shell-” The sand around your foot was turning pink, your eyes widening at the sight.

“Okay, take a deep breath and sit here-” He guided you with surprisingly soft hands towards one of the logs around the burned-out fire. “Don’t move - try to keep your foot out of the sand.” He stood then, walking away.

“Where are you going?” Your voice sounded strange, almost whiny, and you ignored the little pang of despair.

Get a hold of yourself.

“Just going to get the first aid kit.” The cut throbbed as you waited, and soon he returned with one of the water bottles and a big red case. He walked with purpose, the look on his face shamed you to have been so clueless. This was a man that had obviously dealt with many a scraped knee. “Okay, let's see what we’re dealing with.”

He kneeled on the sand before you, taking your foot into his hands. You hissed when he softly brushed the sand away.

“Tsk, come on now Princess. I know you can be braver for me than that.” His hands were soft, and so was his tone, and it filled you with something, comfort amongst other, less wholesome thoughts. You shook them away, chewing on your bottom lip, watching as he played nurse. “Nothing too crazy, just a little cut.”

He rinsed the sand carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Okay, this might sting a little.” He rifled through the open case beside him, grabbing a little pack of what looked to be antiseptic. “Deep breath for me.” He watched you then, waiting until you let the breath go before wiping the wound clean. The sting almost slapped you across the face, every instinct screaming to pull your foot away from the mean man.

“Okay, okay - you’re okay.” his hands engulfed your ankle, holding you firmly in place. “Good job, we’re almost done.” he spoke low, opening up a waterproof bandaid and carefully covering the tiny wound. “There we go. All done.” He pressed a small kiss to the top of your foot, his eyes widening after. “Sorry- force of habit.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Thank you. It feels much better.” You felt the heat in your chest and in your ears and ignored it, ignored the whole mess of feelings blooming in your gut for him.

“Yeah, sure.” He collected his things before scratching at the back of his neck and it thrilled you to realize that he looked as flushed as you felt. “I’m going to go catch something.” He got up quickly, moving with purpose away from where you sat, curtailing any further discussion.

He hadn’t expected it, but she’d taken his words to heart. He’d felt terrible after going off on her. The embarrassment on her face at how she’d treated him, although completely warranted, pulled at his heartstrings. He couldn’t exactly say why - it wasn’t something he could explain, not something he wanted to delve into. Whether that was for his benefit or hers, he couldn’t be sure.

She no longer had to be told to fetch fruit, or water. She did her best to keep the camp organized, she no longer spoke about her wealth, or Louis. She was quiet most of the time, in fact, and he wasn’t sure if it was better, or worse.

Where she mostly avoided his annoyance throughout the day, she still clung to him at night. He never told her, convincing himself it was to spare her further embarrassment, ignoring the little part of him that knew it was because he was terrified that if she knew, she’d stop.

Things were different, that was for sure. The days passed and you had to admit to yourself that you’d been such an ungrateful, horrid little - well, Princess. He’d been completely right about you, and he’d had the patience of a saint. You saw him with different eyes now. You saw a competent, strong, intelligent man who up until now, was the only reason you’d survived on this godforsaken island as long as you had. It was well and truly humbling.

Instead of complaining, now you did your best to pull your weight. The goal was to show him that you were grateful, that you weren’t just some spoiled rich girl, that you could be something other than that, anyway. You wanted - needed to prove to him that you weren’t a burden.

It had been a particularly hot day, the sun beating down on the both of you with a vengeance. Sunset couldn’t come fast enough, and once it did, you cherished it like never before.

He dug around in the helicopter while you sat on the log, enjoying the tiny, but very welcome breeze coming off the water.

“Oh wow, I forgot about this,” You heard the smile in his voice, “How would you feel about a drink?” He held a bottle in his hand, making his way over to your place in the sand.

“I’d feel great actually, if you don’t mind sharing.”

“Bottle’s almost full, more than enough for both of us.” He sat next to you, taking a generous sip of the amber liquid before handing it to you. It was warmer than you would have liked, but the burn was pleasant enough that you didn’t care. “Good, right?” His smile is as breezy as the ocean, and just as welcome.

“Very good,” you couldn't help but admit before taking another long sip, “I can already feel it.” You smiled, handing it back to him.

“We’ll be cheap drunks tonight, that’s for sure.” He took another long swallow, and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his throat worked. You watched the fire instead, focusing on the embers as the drink settled in your stomach. The heat spreads through your limbs, making you feel heavy where you sit beside him.

You both sat in silence for a time, passing the bottle back and forth until most of it was gone, and your head felt like a balloon barely tethered to your body.

“This would be such a beautiful place…without the whole ‘being stranded’ thing.” He held the bottle loosely, his eyes no doubt taking in the gorgeous sunset.

“You mean you don’t love being stuck out here with me?” You bumped his shoulder, and it vaguely registers how much you missed physical touch. He laughed, full-throated.

“Oh yeah, this is definitely heaven.” His expression is exaggerated, “You know what I mean.” He gestures to where the water laps at the shore. “This is a paradise, just needs a resort, and an airport.” He sighed, his mood is the friendliest you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah, it would definitely make a difference.” You leaned back and listened to the water. “Happy you’re here though, woulda died without you.” You didn’t mean to say it, but it’s absolutely true.

“Oh, I don’t know-” He shrugged, modest and much kinder than you deserved.

“Yes, you do-” You shoved at his arm softly, “You’re the only reason we’re still alive, super nice to me despite the fact that I can be a spoiled little brat.” You laughed.

“Can’t argue with that.” He laughed, “I like brats, though.” He smiled, and something that feels very much like butterflies fluttered around in your stomach. He didn't say anything else, and neither did you, the butterflies lingered, though, well into the night, and they only seemed to get stronger whenever his eyes found yours.

“It’s getting late-” He puts the bottle down, “-we should get some rest.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, instead, you just followed him towards the shelter.

It’s a strange, unfamiliar dance you’re both doing - the polar opposite of how things have been between you. Shy smiles replace cold stares, and a curious longing takes hold of you. It would embarrass you to fall prey to your baser instincts - there’s something in the way his eyes tracked you that says you weren’t alone in your feelings.

Something has shifted, he can feel it in the tense energy between them. A pleasant buzz flowed through his veins, danced along his nerves like a current, beat through his heart, and into his loins. She was so close, he could practically feel her warmth.

She sighed beside him, her legs rubbing together like a cricket and he knew in his gut, she felt the same energy.

“Good night, Frankie.” She whispered the words, as though someone might overhear. His eyes clenched shut at the feel of her breath ruffling through his hair, closer than she’d ever let herself get, awake anyway.

“Night-” Everything in him wanted to turn over, to feel her fingers ruffle through his hair, but something held him back. He stayed still, his body tense despite how relaxed the alcohol had made him.

“It’s a bit cold–” Her voice is a bit closer, so close he felt it in the shell of his ear, “-okay if I scoot closer?” Her hands pressed against his back, her legs tangled with his, and he knows in his bones, it’s just a ploy, but he stayed still nonetheless.

“Sure-get close.” He took her hand and wrapped it around his middle, holding it well above his waist, letting out a deep breath.

“Oh-okay.” She pressed her face into his shoulder, and every cell in his body screamed at him to turn around, to kiss her, bury his tongue in her mouth, and then trail it down, bury it between her legs, but he shook his head, convincing himself she just wants this.

“Night.” His voice cracked, but he said nothing more. He felt her staring at him, letting out a little sigh of her own.

“Night, Frankie.”

—

The days following your drunken night passed by in mostly silence, with a polite avoidance from him, and an annoyed quiet from you.

It was no secret that you had the power to annoy the hell out of him, but you’d thought there’d been something else. The look in his eye when he’d told you he liked brats, the sound of his voice when he’d held you close, the considerable boner pressing against your ass when you’d woken up to him wrapped around you that next morning.

Maybe you’d misread him, maybe it wasn’t flirting, maybe he’d just been stroking your ego, being nice to you, and you’d practically thrown yourself at him only to be.. What? Ignored?

The wind whipped around as you both ate dinner a few quiet days later, the sky dark and pregnant with the promise of a heavy rain, filling you with worry. The shelter was sturdy, you knew that, but you didn’t think it would hold up against a storm like the one that had blown you both onto the island to begin with.

“I don’t think we’ll be enjoying a fire tonight,” His eyes stared at the sky, same as you, “we should bring the clothes into the shelter; it’s going to pour soon.” He got up, tossing his banana peels into the fire pit just as the first few drops of water sprinkled down on top of you.

A nervous current flowed through your body as you made yourself comfortable within the shelter, making you acutely aware of his closeness.

The rain came down in sheets as you both lay there, filling the silence with its rhythmic pattering against the tarp. Lightning flashed, illuminating the space between you. A shiver ran through you at the look on his face.

“You okay?” His hand shot out, landing softly on your arm, raising goosebumps as it slid down towards your elbow.

“I’m fine.” You shudder, but all at once, annoyance springs up at his rejection the other night - you turn to give him your back.

“Are you… angry at me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Why would I be angry at you? It’s not like I threw myself at you or anything.”

“What?” His voice sounded incredulous, “You mean, when we were drinking?”

“Yes!” You sighed, “I was all over you. I guess I was wrong.” All at once, you’re embarrassed, and desperate to get away from his incredulous expression. The storm, however, holds you both hostage.

“Hm.” He sounded almost amused, and your stomach dropped, “Well, if I’d known that all you needed was to be fucked, things would have been different.”

Your stomach did a backflip onto its ass, shock, and pure adrenaline coursing through your body at his words. You turned slowly to face him.

“Sorry?” It came out almost stupidly, and he smiled a very self-satisfied smile.

“I said, if I’d known, that in order for you to stop being such a brat,” He moved in closer, forcing you to lay back and make space for him between your legs. “All you needed was for me to fuck you, I would have done it sooner.” He hovered above you, close enough that he must’ve surely felt your heart pounding where his chest met yours. It’s with Herculean strength, that you composed yourself, albeit nervously.

“Well, I guess I just thought you were more perceptive.” The bold words were completely at odds with the tremor in your voice; he laughed, full-throated, and it sent a current across every inch of you.

“Or maybe, I thought you’d open that pretty mouth of yours, and say what it is you wanted.” He pressed forward, dragging his lips across your jaw before capturing your mouth in a kiss. It started soft, and for a moment, the storm disappeared, your hands finding themselves tangled up in his messy waves, and then his tongue pressed forward, and it pulled a moan from somewhere deep inside you.

There was no more talking. Only the feeling of your heart racing, your cunt aching, and his comforting weight pressing you into the shelter, that is, before he shifted his hips and the considerable heft of him was slotted perfectly against where you needed him most.

The slip of his warm palm from the trembling skin of your belly raised goosebumps in its wake, and pulled a gasp from your mouth into his when it glided under your shit and landed on your breast. Those deft fingers you’d seen working away on all manner of things on this island, now plucked deliciously at your nipple.

It was almost violent, both the storm outside, and your haste to divest him of his clothes. The need to feel that golden skin on yours was a hunger pang, both terrible and euphoric, that burned as brightly as the flashes of lightning that lit up the shelter. His eyes shone with the same intensity you felt, and instantly, he moved away to help you, too, the two of you scrambling with a ferocity that bordered on anger.

“God, you’re so fucking hot–” He hissed the words onto your face before kissing you again, and any softness was gone, his teeth clicked against yours before his tongue took yours and laid down the law. Your skin burned with want, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back before you moved your hand down between you to finally grasp his cock. He pulled away from your mouth to stare down where you held onto him, drunk with the sight of just how big he looked in your grip.

“Is this what you’ve been wanting?” He held himself above you, watching as you stroked him slowly.

“God, yes, I wanted this - I want you to fuck me–” you swiped your thumb over the head, fat pearly drops of his own arousal making it slippery, “I want you to come inside me, make me feel good-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before his mouth claimed yours once more and pulled your hand away in order to slip himself between the lips of your sex, coating himself in you for a moment before he finally slipped inside.

“Jesus Christ, man.” You breathed the words onto his face at the stretch, at the way he seemed to have taken up every inch of space inside you, making you overflow with him. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, his hips snapping in a toe-curling rhythm. For a few minutes, there were no more words left, the only thing you can manage is to whimper, then moan in earnest when he ducked his head down to capture a nipple in his mouth. Your fingers like talons in his hair, keeping him close to your breast while your cunt soaked him in your want.

He let go of the perky bud with a pop, his eyes glazed.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come so fast,” he almost slurred his words, pussy drunk, “your tight little cunt is gonna make me fucking come–” He sped up, his cock punching into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make a lewd noise where you’re joined and you desperately wanted him to slow down so you can catch up.

“Wait–” Your legs squeezed where they’d hitched up high on his hips, “Frankie–” His rhythm stuttered for a moment before he thrust again, deep, filling you with his come, and you almost cried at the thought that he might be done so soon.

“Fuck-” He ground himself as deep as he could, milking himself inside you for a moment before pulling away abruptly, hissing through the oversensitivity to look at his handiwork, “that’s so fucking pretty baby, look at me dripping out-” He smiled at you, almost laughing at the look of anguish on your face at the emptiness, “what’s wrong?” His hand rubbed at your belly for a moment before it slipped down, and two big fingers filled you back up. “I know you didn’t come, but you don’t think I’m just going to leave you like this, right?” He pumped slowly, making you keen when he pressed against something holy inside of you. “No, I got you, baby.”

One moment he was kneeling between your legs, and the next, he was flat on his belly, his face pressed up against your pussy, tongue right on the button of your clit.

The moan you let out was obscene. His tongue circled your clit with devastating precision, over and over again, until you were staring down at him with your mouth open, begging and praying incoherently for him to keep going just like that. His eyes were bright, laser-focused on you just like his tongue, and his free hand came up to hold onto your breast, pinching at your nipple, and all of a sudden, the sting snapped, the wave crested, and you practically folded in half, swearing loudly as you gushed around his fingers.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but the storm got a little stronger, and louder as you both lay in the shelter, quiet and content to hold each other. Lightning turned the darkened skies into day for a moment before the boom of thunder shook you to your core.

“It’s okay, just loud.” He said it softly into your ear with the same patience he’d had when he bandaged your foot, the comforting words dads usually used for their children.

“I know, it just startled me.”

“Force of habit.”

“Your daughter, is she scared of thunderstorms?” You turned towards him, making yourself comfortable in his embrace.

“Only at first.” His smile was wistful, “She always jumps from the first big boom but then laughs,” his eyes crinkled, and it was hard not to notice just how handsome he is, the care and love he has for his daughter shining out through his eyes. “Sorry, I just miss her a lot.” It faltered, that handsome smile, and it made you sad for him.

“Don’t be sorry. I can’t imagine how hard all this must be for you.” Guilt swirled in your chest at the way you’d treated him before, at your general attitude towards everyone up until getting stranded. “I’m sorry about how I was–” He shook his head no, much too kind, kinder than you deserved, and you pushed through.

“No, let me say it. I’m sorry about how I treated you - I was horrible.”

“You weren’t that bad.”

“Yes, I was, so spoiled and insensitive, I didn’t even give your situation a second thought. All I cared about was myself and I can’t even believe it now. I’m sorry. I’m really lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, one of his palms rubbing your back soothingly, “you’ve definitely had a big turnaround.” He laughed, and you smacked his arm playfully. “I’m lucky you’re here too. I would have been miserable by myself.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but sigh at the simple comfort human touch could bring. “Not sure you would have ever agreed to go out with me had we not been stuck here together.”

His words were light, and for a moment, you wanted to protest, but you didn’t think you could, and it shamed you further.

“Oh god, what a moron I was.” You groaned, pressing your face into the warm skin of his neck.

“You weren’t a moron, maybe a little oblivious, and I don’t mean that in a cruel way. You and I are in very different circles. I doubt our paths would have even crossed, but I’m glad they did because as much as you have the power to drive me nuts, I really like you.” His hands continued their comforting sweep across your skin, lulling you into the most relaxed state you could remember being in, in a long time.

“I would have been an idiot to not give you a chance. You’re so sweet and smart, and so strong, so fucking handsome, too. You take care of me and make me laugh, and you have done your best to keep us both safe and sound and I’m just - I’m ashamed that maybe in the past I would have been too shallow and stuck up to notice.” The storm abates as you confess some feelings you’d been harboring.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I think I probably would have dismissed you just as quickly for similarly shallow reasons. As gorgeous as you are, I most likely would have written you off as some rich trust fund-baby.” He half-shrugged.

“I’m still sorry. It’s because of me that we’re here.”

“I could have said no.”

“I pressured you with money. I pushed even though you’d said it was unsafe.”

“I still could have said no. Let’s just forget it all, everything that happened before we got here. Point is we’re here, and we have to keep it together until someone finds us.” His hand kept its rhythm, sweeping over any and all skin, casting its spell of comfort until both it and the storm lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-----

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

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thot-of-khonshu · 4 months

Text

All Access

Pairing: 70s rockstar! frankie morales x f! reader

Rating: 18+ (explicit, minors do not interact)

Summary: It's 1975 and you're one of the rare women given the opportunity to write for Rolling Stone. When you get the opportunity of a lifetime to travel with the hottest band in the US, Triple Frontier, you're welcomed into their den of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. But what happens when you fall for their bass player and it becomes more than just a story?

Fic Content: 70s rock band au! triple frontier, explicit sex, heavy drug use

New Chapters Every Monday

Chapters:

Chapter 1: You go see Triple Frontier at the Chateau Marmont for your story. You dabble into their world of sex, drugs and rock and roll...and you and Frankie bond.

Chapter 2: You're officially on the road with Triple Frontier and you try to adapt to a boys club. After Benny makes a misogynistic comment, you lean into the arms of Frankie.

Chapter 3

4 / 5 / 6 / 7

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pimosworld · 2 months

Text

Unrequited

Pairing- Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Francisco Morales

Series Summary- Francisco was always afraid of settling down. He left Santiago to pick up the pieces after Colombia and now someone else is taking his place. Now he must cope with repairing the past without disrupting his future.

CW-18+,NSFW,MDNI, Angst, hurt/comfort, lovers to enemies to friends, friends to lovers, PTSD, mentions of addiction, therapy,canon typical violence, depression, anxiety, smut, m/m, m/m/f, eventual poly relationship, alcohol consumption,infidelity, unprotected piv,oral f receiving, oral m receiving, marriage proposals)

WC-5.2k

A/N- I hope you enjoy the first chapter and I’m just going to apologize now for the angst but it will get better…eventually. Happy Frankie Friday. @triplefrontier-anniversary

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter 1 Love sick

adjective: love-sick

in love, or missing the person one loves, so much that one is unable to act normally.

Frankie hates how everything feels the same. When the wheels touched down and he exited the plane, it smelled the same. All of his favorite places to eat, the usual stores, the same amount of unbearable traffic. He wanted this to feel different when he returned home. Like he expected his friends and him to be waiting at the airport to greet him with open arms. Like they would roll out the red carpet for him because they all missed him so much. How could he expect that when he couldn’t bother to tell anyone he was still alive let alone returning home? That’s like expecting to win the lottery but never playing. That delusional part of your brain where you imagine how you would spend the money and how you wouldn’t tell anyone.

He’s home now.

The bile starts to rise up in his throat as he approaches the neighborhood he was going to spend the rest of his life in. He was going to live a peaceful, quiet life with him. After Colombia they would have enough money to do whatever they wanted. Relax and finally work out some of that trauma from their shared experiences in the military. He supposed everyone did settle down anyway. What choice did they have after coming back with practically nothing. He heard Will eventually got married and Benny took what little money he had and opened up a boxing gym. Santi-

How was he supposed to return to this life with him after everything that happened in Colombia. Santiago finally gave him everything he wanted on a silver platter, everything Frankie had been asking of him for years. Love me out in the open, Love me out loud, Love me without fear or consequence of failure. So he did. He finally told him ‘after this, no more playing games. We do this for real or not at all, I'm all in if you are.’

His response was to flee. One month turned into six, six months turned into a year. Now three years later he’s coming back to the man he broke and he’s not sure what he’s expecting but it’s making him nearly break out in hives. The outside of the house looks a little different but he can’t put his finger on why. It’s brighter and somehow cleaner. Maybe Santiago had it painted recently. He huffs his bag out of the cab suddenly feeling a thousand times heavier than any pack he’s carried through the jungle with rain soaked clothes all the way down to his socks.

The bench is still there on the front porch that Frankie found at a garage sale. The first piece of furniture that graced the home they picked out together.Frankie told the guys it would be easier if they bought it together. He’s not sure who he thought he was fooling but it certainly wasn’t Benny and Will. Tom didn’t give a shit, he was such a cheap bastard he truly believed they would buy a house together to save money. Another example of Santiago going along with whatever Frankie said as long as he got to call it theirs.

His hands are sweaty and his arms are shaky as he raises them up to knock on the door. Santiago hated doorbells, such a weird quirky thing he never explained makes him laugh now, easing some of the tension in his shoulders. He waits…an uncomfortable amount of time before he thinks he could just turn around and act like he was never here until the door flies open.

You’re standing there practically beaming at him, he’s sure he’s got the most dumbfounded look on his face as he takes you in. You’re adorable as you lean against the door frame in a pair of leggings and a shirt he sort of recognizes, waiting for him to say something. Maybe he has the wrong house and you’re just sparing him the embarrassment. He’s completely bewildered when you surge forward and wrap your some around his middle, he instinctively despite you being a complete stranger embraces your hug. You’re like liquid in his arms as you press your chest to his and he can feel something awaken in him. The amount of warm bodies he found himself under or on top of over the years couldn’t compare to this consuming feeling. The worst part is how innocent you seem and how his thoughts are nothing but. He can smell you, a hint of orange and peach. Body wash, shampoo or perfume he doesn’t really care at the moment.

You mumble something that’s inaudible as you pull back and look at him, something sparkling in your eyes. “I was beginning to think you were like bigfoot, or the Easter bunny…or maybe even Santa Claus.” You giggle and it’s something else he has to add to the list. “Forgive me…it’s nice to meet you Francisco.”

“I see you’ve met my girlfriend.” That voice. The low sultry voice he’s sure he could never forget, not even if he tried. Frankie cried the day his phone was smashed and the voicemail Santi had left for him was lost forever. The last one he left, begging for him to come back, to come home. “Sorry she’s a hugger.” You sheepishly extract yourself from him as his body goes taut.

Santi steps up behind you, protectively and it cuts like a knife. His hand starts at the small of your back and wraps around to your front as he pulls you into his chest. You preen at the touch as you lean against him, kissing the dark stubble on his cheek. Frankie’s sure you don’t notice the fire in your boyfriend's eyes, a threatening stare that was usually only reserved for his enemies. He can see it then, shrouded in hurt and anger. She’s mine. Santiago won’t let him hurt you the way he was hurt. Thrown away and cast aside. That’s how Frankie thinks he’d paint the picture but that’s far from the truth. He was sparing him a lifetime of disappointment.

The feelings he had for you are going up in gray smoke like water doused onto a fire. This is a dangerous feeling, seeing you in his place. It’s not your fault at all that you met Santiago and walked into years of love,torment and jealousy. Frankie can tell how blindly you love Santiago, the way he loved Frankie all those years. He would lay down on a live wire for him, take a bullet for him, take public scrutiny and throw away his family’s judgmental stares for him. Being that vulnerable only puts you in danger.

“Invite him in silly.” You nudge Santi and he barely budges as he scoops up Frankie’s bag and slings it over his shoulder. You yelp as he pats you on the ass to coax you inside.

“Come on in Frank, make yourself at home.” His voice is raw and open, like Frankie’s heart. He grinds his teeth at the name he hates and the implication of home. But he deserves that. Santi is going to make him hurt.

****

The house looks relatively the same on the inside.

Some extra plants and a bookshelf, the distinct smell of lavender and vanilla are the only differences. He wishes it wouldn’t look the same, like everything else. It was like he never left, the same couch they used to spend late nights on, watching the same tv that sits in the corner. The same dining table that they would eat breakfast before going to work and dinner after a long day.

“I’m gonna make some cookies, since it’s a special occasion.” You wink at him and start moving around his kitchen like you know everything. The oven is preheated and you're mixing something into a bowl before he can blink. Humming some tune he’s sure he’s heard as he realizes the shirt you’re wearing is Santi’s favorite.

Santi slides up behind you kissing your neck. “Sounds like a good idea baby.” You glance up at Frankie looking a little bashful as you narrow your eyes at Santi.

“Why don’t you go put your stuff down in the spare bedroom.” Santi doesn’t move and that annoys him even more. He doesn’t have to show him where the room is because this used to be his house, still is technically. He stomps down the hall glaring at some artwork and photos he’s never seen. Stopping in his tracks when he sees a photo of the five of them in Delta. A stupid grin on Santi’s face because Frankie’s grabbing his ass while the photo is being taken. The younger faces of the Miller brothers and Tom.

He stops again when he sees the bedroom they used to share. Nothing much has changed about that either. The bedspread and the ungodly amount of pillows maybe…hopefully the mattress.

He sets his bag down against the wall and opens the window to let some air in. It’s stale and muggy so he shuts it immediately. He can still smell you on him and it’s driving him nuts. He got a whiff of Santi’s cologne during the brief greeting. That was different. He stopped wearing the one Frankie bought him on a mission in Morocco. Santi hadn’t so much as touched him during their hello and he’s not sure if that hurts worse than being able to hold him.

His body eases into the queen mattress as he leans back against the pillows. It’s much more comfortable than the previous one. Frankie never cared about the comfort of others and they argued about it. "It's just a spare bed, what's the problem?” Santiago would roll his eyes and he wanted to kiss that smug look off his face. ‘Our guests should be comfortable too.” He didn’t think they would ever have guests staying in their home other than Benny or Will and those bastards didn’t need a four star plush hotel stay. Now he’s a guest, in his own home and he hates how comfortable he is.

He’s exhausted…mentally, physically, emotionally. Too fatigued to even stand and turn on the ceiling fan that he’s staring at. He’s just starting to close his eyes when he hears a soft rap on the door. He sighs out in frustration, he needs a break from you right now, you’re too perfect and he’s too broken so he just needs a moment. He goes to protest when the door opens but it’s not you who greets him.

Santiago stands in the doorway with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. He looks as though he’s approaching a wild animal in a cage with their favorite treat to calm them down just before they tranquilize them. Frankie sits up as he steps into the room and sets the items down on the bedside table.

“They’re still hot.” His tone is warning like he knows Frankie is going to shove one whole in his mouth the moment he leaves the room and then complain that it burned his tongue.

Frankie wants to say something but now doesn’t feel right. His tongue is heavy like lead in his mouth and his eyes can’t quite possibly say all that he wants to. I love you, I’m sorry. “You look good.” It’s weak, Santiago knows it as he huffs out a laugh.

“You look tired.” It’s said more of a truth than an insult. He’s sad when he looks at him like someone he used to know. Frankie probably hasn’t had a good night's sleep in three years and that is Santi’s only consolation prize. He got a broken heart and Frankie got perpetual insomnia. “You can stay as long as you want Fish…dinner will be ready in an hour.” Santi exits the bedroom, closing the door softly, leaving his new cologne in the omnium of your scent that clings to him.

As long as he wants and as long as he needs are two very different things. He’s just glad as he takes a bite of the cookie that he’s graduated from Frank to Fish. This cookie tastes how you look. Sickly sweet and warm on his tongue. He’s glad Santi has left the room because he didn’t recognize the sounds coming from him as he savored his first homemade provisions in over three years. Surviving on street food that his stomach hated and questionable canned meat products. He can taste you on his tongue as he finishes the first cookie in the blink of an eye. Four of them stacked on the plate before eating dinner seemed like overkill at first but Santiago had tasted your cookies... He gets to indulge in them whenever he wants and this is just his way of taunting Frankie. He knows Frankie is a weak man who hasn’t let himself enjoy the pleasures in life for quite a while. Temporary pleasures don’t measure up to this.

He kicks off his shoes and props himself up against the pillows again as he absentmindedly reaches for another. A cool breeze whips his face as he looks up at the spinning blades. Santiago must have turned it on without him noticing. His mama always used to tell him to slow down and enjoy his food so he does in this moment. The first one he ate with such urgency like it would be his last, this one he can savor the hints of cinnamon and vanilla. The gooey chocolate makes a mess on his fingers. He glances over to see no napkin so he licks it off getting a hint of salt and peanut butter. There’s no way you could know unless Santiago told you. He holds it in front of him to inspect and sees the small peanut butter chips melted in. That was always his favorite and only Santi knew.

It’s much easier to fall asleep as he polished off the last cookie and most of the milk. This one hour felt better than any full night of sleep he got when he wasn’t home.

****

Frankie feels like his body weighs a ton. Waking up from his nap is disorienting as he remembers where he is. Sleeping in a room he never thought he’d be in, in a place he never thought he’d ever come back to. This short slumber after being sleep deprived for so long is like serving someone an appetizer and telling them the restaurant is closing early.

He showed up unexpectedly and you took it in stride. Like you’ve been here waiting for him this whole time to put the pieces back together. Frankie doesn’t think you’d mind if he skipped out on dinner for some much needed rest but his stomach grumbles as he stares at the empty plate next to him. The smell of garlic,onions and peppers coax him out of the bed as he stretches his creaky bones. He can hear laughter and the clinking of plates as he walks down the hallway, it dawns on him that he hasn’t showered in twelve hours but he doesn’t want to keep you waiting any longer. He’s been enough of a burden these last few years and he won’t let you bear the load any longer.

“Hola bella durmiente.” Santi’s teasing voice hits his ears before he sees him. He wants to flip him off but he’s too tired and that feels too normal.

Frankie glances at the time on the oven as you finish plating something that smells like home. “Shit it’s been two hours.” Santi whistles at him to sit down as he scrubs his hands through his hair.

“Don’t worry about it Francisco, this man takes four hour naps.” You lean over setting the plate down in front of him and your boyfriend. He watches you plant a kiss on Santi’s head, not to flaunt it but just because it’s second nature.

“You never take naps.”

“I’ve learned to relax.” Santi says with a mouthful of food as he points his fork. “You should learn to do the same, Frankie.”

He can breathe a sigh of relief that he can be Frankie again, even in jest.

He takes a bite as you settle in across from him, it’s perfect much like the cookies as he closes his eyes not afraid of the moan that leaves him. “Holy shit this is better than Santi’s Chile verde.”

Santi takes your hand placing a kiss on your fingers. “That’s why I don’t make it anymore.”

“Well don’t be shy, there’s plenty on the stove.” You smile at him and he notices then that you changed. A light touch of makeup and a little perfume. Santi’s still in his tee shirt and jeans but you’ve ditched the old ratty Metallica shirt and swapped it for a bright yellow blouse and jeans.

Santi clears his throat interrupting Frankie observing you. “She’s an amazing chef. She takes a lot of pride in her work, and I take my job as the Guinea pig very seriously.” He leans back and pats his belly.

You’re practically beaming at him as you stand to take his empty plate. He gently grabs your wrist urging you to sit as he absentmindedly grabs Frankie’s to serve them up some more.

****

Frankie used to run from his compliments or brush them off as nothing. He was always too afraid of the praise not realizing how hurtful it was to the other man when he would wave him off. Santi loves you in the way he always wanted Frankie to love him.

He’s grateful for the small talk during the rest of the evening. A few beers and a way too nice bottle of wine has him comfortably buzzed as he listens to you talk about how you met Santiago. In true Santiago form he almost ruined it before it even began.

It was at Will's wedding a little over a year ago.Santiago assumed you were a guest of the bride because he’s certain he would remember meeting you in the many years he’d known Will. He saw you just before the ceremony in a navy blue silk suit, the plunging neckline leaving nothing to the imagination. You looked lost and a little irked when he approached you asking to save him a dance.

He looked for you in the sea of unfamiliar faces during the ceremony and again during the reception. It wasn’t until a very unfortunate moment with a clingy bridesmaid in his lap drunkenly telling him about her new piercing that he locked eyes with you. There was a humorous look on your face as you winked at him. Two men approached you in matching white button ups and black ties and you snapped to attention. He could always tell when someone was giving orders and needed to be taken seriously. The men scurry away when you’re done speaking and start gathering plates and cutlery. Your face relaxes again and you wink at him exiting the ballroom as the girl screeches in his ear ‘are you even listening to me?”

“No sweetheart I’m not.” He quickly displaces her from his lap as she stands there dumbstruck by his actions.

He bursts through the doors and is met with a mostly empty kitchen. You’re standing there wide eyed with another girl in the matching uniform. “Finish boxing up the leftovers for the newlyweds and then you’re good to go.” You brush her arm as you walk past and beeline it straight for him.

“Lost?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“No I ugh…you…-“ He’s scrambling as you stare him down unwavering.

“A man of many words I see.” You pick a piece of lint off his suit jacket and he notes your close proximity.

“You never danced with me.” He teases and you laugh a little. It’s a start

“You seemed to already have a dance partner…and as you can see.” You gesture around the kitchen. “I was a little busy.”

“Oh her…I don’t even know her name.” He winces as you give him an incredulous look.

You’re already walking away toward the ballroom doors before he can recover. He’s hot on your heels, never one to back down from a challenge. “So I can’t convince you to dance with me?”

You spin and he has to stop himself from crashing into you. “Maybe some other time Santiago.” You kiss him on the cheek, leaving a red lipstick reminder for any unknown nameless women.

“Wait…how do you know my name!?”

“I was warned about you.” You yell over your shoulder as you exit the kitchen leaving him there stunned.

It took a lifetime of bribes and I owe yous and promises of future baby sitting to get your number from Will. His wife Emma was pissed until you weaved your way into their lives and the rest is history.

****

It’s been at least an hour since you went off to bed, saying your goodnights to both men. They stayed mostly silent on the couch as they stared at some movie on the tv. Neither one of them paid any attention. Just waiting for any signs of life from you to die down in the bedroom down the hall.

Santi knew your night routine like the back of his hand. You’d wash your face of any makeup and apply what he thought was an absurd amount of creams and oils. You’d sit gingerly on the edge of the bed as you applied this lotion that smelled of rose and coconut, taking your time to cover every inch of your body. Smiling at him all the while asking if he’d like to join to which he’d just tell you one of you had to be rough in the relationship. On the nights he didn’t personally see to it that you were passed out you’d read a few chapters of your book before falling asleep with your finger marking the page and he’d gently retrieve it from you before kissing your forehead making sure not to wake you.

It’s this thought that’s ticking away at him as he counts down the minutes silently while he watches Frankie’s leg nervously bounce beside him. He’s sitting in the spot he used to but he feels miles away. Stark contrast to how they used to be on this couch, cuddling and laughing while they talked about their future.

“Do you love her?”

The words that leave Frankie’s mouth rip through the silence like the sound of a thunder clap. Only the light from the tv illuminates the look on Santi’s face but Frankie can see it clear as day. It’s moments like these that Santi’s aware of his high blood pressure as the sound of his heartbeat whooshes in his ears.

“How dare you ask me that.” His voice starts low but the rage behind it is threatening to boil over.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Yes I love her.” He says a little louder, no lie or waver to his voice.

Frankie scrubs his jaw as he huffs under his breath. “I’m glad you moved on.” The sarcasm dripped from his tone and now Santi is seeing red.

Santi grabs the remote, flicking off the tv plunging them into darkness. “You think I just moved on the moment you left. You do remember being the one who left right?” He hates how Frankie can so quickly get under his skin. This is the exact reaction he wanted from him and he took the bait. “I waited for you. I waited and waited until Will had to pick me up off the floor and make me shower and eat and really take a look at the situation.”

Santi stands and paces the room as Frankie watches someone he thought he knew open up like he’s never done before. Santi loved him but he always let Frankie take the lead. He never put himself first and it almost swallowed him up whole. Frankie knows it’s not fair to judge any of his actions but he’s a scared animal backed into a corner and this is all he’s got left. One last fight before he lunges out in hope’s that Santi will tell him something to justify what he did.

“You may have been torn up for a bit but you look pretty comfortable to me.” Frankie gestures around the room as he stands in front of Santi. “You’ve got nice home cooked meals, all your friends, a beautiful house and someone to fuck at the end of a long day.”

Santi grabs his shirt shoving him back down to the couch. “Don’t act like your bed wasn’t warm these last three years. You and I both know how you are Frank.” Fuck he’s back to Frank.

“I didn’t love any of them.” Frankie says as Santi rolls his eyes.

“You want an award for not falling in love with them.” Frank grits his teeth as the sing song words ooze out of Santi’s mouth while he claps his hands in his face.

“You should keep your voice down, you wouldn't want to wake up your wife.” Frankie says and with no remorse Santi knows he’s wounded. A small part of him is glad for it.

With his voice barely above a whisper as he leans down face to face with Frankie. “She’s not my wife, and you’re not my husband.”

****

Santi quietly closes the door as he watches your sleeping form. It’s one of his favorite things to do. The steady rise and fall of your chest, wondering what peaceful things drift in your dreams. You’re wearing one of his shirts and probably nothing else. Majority of your wardrobe when you weren’t at work consisted of his clothing. It stirred something in him he’d never experienced before you. The way he was possessive over you…he never understood why Frankie would act the way he did when men and women would flirt with him until he met you.

How dare Frankie question his love and his loyalty. He was the one who walked away. How dare he look at you the way he did, thinking Santi wouldn’t notice the desire in his eyes.

“Baby, are you coming to bed or do you want to keep holding the door up?” Your sleepy voice grabs his attention as you pat the spot beside you.

He pushes off the door and pulls his shirt off, tossing it aside.”I thought you were asleep.” His jeans and belt hit the floor with a thud as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“I was but I could hear your thoughts in my dreams.” You sit up wrapping your arms around him. Your hands drift to his stomach, his soft abs flex under your touch as he relaxes against you. You know he wants to say something. The elephant in the room that is Frankie.

“I love you.” His voice barely above a whisper. He squeezes your hand and brings it up to his chest. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart under your fingers.

“I love you too.”He shivers as your lips graze the faint scar traveling down his neck. A reminder of something he’s been through with you that Frankie wasn’t there for. His need for you is made all that more evident with the man he loved, loves in the room down the hall.

He shifts so fast your head is spinning as he pins you underneath him. Whatever thoughts were plaguing him before are long gone with his hands roaming underneath his shirt to graze the soft skin under your breast. His lips swallow your whine as he rolls your nipple between his fingers reveling in the way your body responds to him.

You can feel the hard press of his cock beneath his boxers as he rolls his hips into you. Searching for some kind of friction.

“I need this off.” His voice is strained as he pulls the shirt over your head.

You chuckle trying to reach for him as he shoves his boxers down, laughter dies in your throat at the sight of him. The moonlight in the room illuminates his hard cock, dark at the tip leaking precum on the sheets below.

His hands slide up your thighs as he squeezes the flesh between his fingers. His grip tightens as he cups your ass, lifting you slightly to wrap your legs around him. “Look at you…and you’re all mine.”

You’re breathless as you reach for him, pulling him into your chest.”Santi, kiss me.” You don’t have to ask him twice, your voice is like a siren song as he dips his tongue into you. He can taste the mint from your toothpaste and your cherry chapstick. Mine.

He should go slow, work you open like he always does. He drags the tip through your slick folds and a soft whimper leaves your mouth. You’re being too quiet…because of him. His hands gently press your throat as he buries himself to the hilt. A louder whine escapes you, he knows it drives you crazy as he squeezes just enough to have you panting.

“Fuck I need you, I’m sorry.” He releases your throat and starts an unrelenting pace as you quickly adjust to his size. He’s never been this desperate, not willing to make you come on his mouth or fingers first.

Your body doesn’t seem to care as the slick wet sound of your bodies and your pussy clenching with each thrust has him growling in your ear. “I want to hear you.” He wraps his arms underneath you and grips your shoulders.

“Santi…please.” You don’t want to be used for his anger and revenge but you can’t think straight with his cock ramming that spot deep inside you.

“Please what baby?” He fucks you harder as he watches your face contort in pleasure as you chant his name. He bites down on the swell of your breast and you cry out as he licks and soothes the spot with his tongue.

“Santi…I’m so close.” He knows…he can feel how close you are as your heels dig into his back, your blunt nails scratch at his scalp and you arch your body as your climax washes over you. “Come inside me please, Santi.”

Images flash in his mind of Frankie fucking you through your orgasm as you scream his name, his cock is pulsing and throbbing inside you as he fills you up. His deep ragged breaths in your ear as the aftershocks jolt through him. “I love you.” He says it over and over as he kisses your face, your mouth, your sweat soaked forehead. He’s really saying I’m sorry but those words mean the same right now.

“I love you too baby.” Your voice is wrecked from screaming, having long forgotten about your houseguest. You know this is what he wanted and a small part of you wanted it to. Santiago is yours to keep.

****

Shame washes over Frankie as he cleans his spend off his stomach with his tee shirt. He pulls his boxers up and sits on the edge of the bed staring out into the backyard.

It’s quiet now, in his post orgasmic clarity. All he has are the thoughts running through his mind. The thoughts that have plagued him since he set foot back into this house. How selfish it is to want what’s down the hall in a place he called home.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Taglist- @ghostslillady @criticalarchitecture @ael-xander @tinytinymenace @for-a-longlongtime @itsokbbygrl-library @mymo-n @lola-lola-lola @readingiskeepingmegoing

Tagging a few who might be interested:

@writefightandflightclub @reallyrallyauthor @campingwiththecharmings

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 8 months

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Look at this amazing commission @littledozerdraws created for me.

SNAFU Frankie in his human and shifter forms 🥺🫶🏻

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rhoorl · 8 months

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Delta Landscaping Mainlist

Series Summary: The boys of Delta Force start a new business post-Colombia. At its core this is a soap opera - think Desperate Housewives.

Rating: Explicit (18+) - putting this here as a blanket rating even though not all entries will be explicit

A/N: A big thank you to @goodwithcheese because, without The Layover, this idea would not have come to life and for her encouragement. And also thank you to everyone who has contributed hilarious additions to this universe and for listening to my rambles in your DMs.

Main Story | AO3

Chapter 1: Welcome to Torrey Hills

Chapter 2: The Neighborhood Watch Begins

Chapter 3: Watch the Show

Chapter 4: The Pool Party

Chapter 5: Let's Do Lunch

Chapter 6: Jeeps, Texts, and Sliders

Chapter 7: FriDate Night Lights

Chapter 8: Saturdays, Am I Right?

Chapter 9: The M Files

Chapter 10: Tio Frankie

Chapter 11: Right on Target

Chapter 12: In a Rink Far Far Away

Chapter 13: Pike's Place

Chapter 14: Sparks Fly Like the Fourth of July

Chapter 15: Lucky Strike

Extended Scene: Strike a Pose (Benny x Vanessa)

Extra Scene: Weathered In (Frankie x Jo)

Chapter 16: The Countdown *live 4/12*

Extra: Benny's IG

Extra: After (Benny x Vanessa)

Chapter 17: Cousin Joel *coming soon*

Chapter 18:

Chapter 19:

Chapter 20:

Additional chapters to come

Extras

Coming Soon featuring the logo @trulybetty created

Inspiration for Benny's sketch in Chapter 1 (from a post by @gemmahale)

Commercial idea from @patti7dc

The Cars: The boys' cars are mentioned in Chapter 2, but it wasn't specified who owned which car, now you know!

Vanity Plates: Going off the cars post, I received an ask about whether the boys would have vanity plates on their cars.

306 Mule Fall Court: Here's a little tease at who is joining the neighborhood. (Meant to go after Chapter 6)

Mule Fall Halloween: How does the neighborhood celebrate Halloween.

A Very Delta Thanksgiving: How the TF boys split up duties for Thanksgiving

PPCU Bingo: I made a silly graphic to keep track of which PPCU characters have been mentioned so far in Delta Landscaping.

#delta landscaping #delta landscaping extended universe #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #triple frontier au #pedro stories

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perotovar · 3 months

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“Iron Maiden, huh?” They teased. “What, I don’t look like I listen to Iron Maiden?” Frankie smiled, a little of his confidence coming back now that River was here. All of the comfort and teasing was still there from their texts. River hummed thoughtfully, one ring-clad finger running over the side of Eddie’s face on Frankie’s torso. “I didn’t say that. Just thought it was an interesting choice,” they grinned, looking back up at him. Frankie blinked down at them, following their finger that had yet to leave. “Interesting?” he squeaked, swallowing around another lump in his throat. River chuckled and took their hand away, shaking their head in amusement. “Don’t worry about it. C’mon, you promised me a dance, remember?” — into the beat of the night (ch 2) "fear of the dark"

art of river/frankie commissioned by the insanely talented @lights-on-the-ridge !!!! thank you so much, reid, i couldn't be happier with this outcome 🥹

if you ever wanted to properly see river, and with their man, look no further friends, for i have been gifted a FEAST to share!!

and for those of you that haven't yet read their story, you can find it right here -> into the beat of the night (18+)

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absurdthirst · 2 years

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Meant To Be {Frankie Morales x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 25.5k

Warnings: Unrequited love, significant age difference (everyone is of age), angst, pregnancy, heartbreak, drinking, vaginal sex, labor, childbirth, divorce, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, cream pie, hand jobs, breast feeding.

Comments: As the adoptive little sister of Will and Ben Miller, you fell for Francisco Morales the moment you met him when you were seventeen. Through the years is seems as if he would never see you a woman, and you have to witness him seemingly falling in love with another woman and creating a family with her.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The first time you met Frankie was when you were seventeen. Twelve years younger than him and your brother, Will. Well, adopted. You’re the adopted one. Raised by Wayne and Patricia Miller after your parents tragically died in a car accident. The Millers were your next door neighbors and your godparents so you’ve always known them and their sons. After your parents died when you were three, they took you in as their own so they are your family in all ways but blood.

When Will decided to join the army, Patricia was concerned, but knew her eldest was an old soul, so she let him go. When he came back from basic training, Benny knew what he wanted to do, he wanted to be like his big brother, and signed up as soon as he was old enough. You remember missing them during your teenage years, especially Benny since he was closer in age to you. When they came home from base one day with Frankie, it was love at first sight. You were immediately enthralled with his dark brown eyes and shy demeanor. He stole your heart that day and he never gave it back.

****

“Captain Morales, I’m sorry, you are going to have to go home.” Frankie groans, throwing his head back to hit against the pillow of the cot he was laying on. He had been praying that it was going to be a clean injury for once in his life. The fact that he took a round in the shoulder and still managed to get the helicopter back to base before he passed out was a minor miracle, but he had done it. He tunes out the details, looking up at the roof of the field surgery building and sighs. At least he’ll be able to see you…and Monica.

****

It's been months since you last saw any of the boys. You've settled into your new job and your new apartment after returning from the city. You just broke up with Jared - yet another failed relationship. He said he couldn't be with you when you clearly won't give your heart to him. It's been an issue, trying to give a relationship a chance when you are still in love with Frankie.

You've tried to tell Frankie how you feel, several times, but you've always been too late. He's been in a relationship and when he's single, you have a boyfriend. It's like fate doesn't want you to be together. You sigh, deciding to get a drink after work, so you shut off your computer and leave the office, making your way to your favorite bar in town - the one you frequented with the boys and your friends. "Hey. Usual?" Shelly asks from behind the bar, quickly getting you an old fashioned.

You hum, taking a sip after thanking Shelly. That's when you hear him, ordering his usual beer. You turn your head, eyes wide, "Frankie?"

Frankie turns, surprised to find you here, even though he had been hoping for it. You weren’t the seventeen year old who pouted when your parents wouldn’t allow you to have a beer at the cook out when he was over. “Hey.” His shoulder is in a sling, bandaged from the surgery still, but he was tired of sitting in his BOQ, bored out of his mind. He didn’t want to go to the officer’s club on base, preferring the small bar where he and his team always came to. “Small world, huh?” He grins, moving over to give you an awkward, one-armed hug.

"What happened?" You ask, frowning when he pulls back so you can see the sling.

"Got shot. Again." He rolls his eyes before reaching for his beer. You shake your head, heart pounding when you silently acknowledge that he could die at any moment and you would have never got to tell him how you feel.

"What about my brothers? And Pope?" You ask, worried something has happened and you haven't heard yet.

"All good. Just having fun without me." He teases, "no concern for Tom?" You roll your eyes, never hiding your dislike for Tom, especially after he called you a military groupie. Frankie chuckles and settles on the bar stool next to you.

"So...how long are you back for? How long is your leave?" You ask, lifting your drink to take a sip of it. You're no longer that shy seventeen year old girl, you're a woman now and it's time he knew that.

Blowing out a breath, he rolls his eyes. “At least a month.” He tells you, unhappy with the prognosis that the doctor had given him for recovery. “The bullet tore through some muscles so they had to fix that. They don’t want me overdoing PT to get back over there.” He huffs, having every intention of doing just that. He didn’t like not being there for the guys. The bartender sets down both of your drinks and he smirks before he slides your old fashioned over to you. “A lot different from when you were pouting for a beer, huh?“ he asks, picking up his beer bottle and taking a sip.

You frown for a moment, wishing he would see you as more than Benny and Will's younger sister. After a flash, you chuckle awkwardly, nodding as you pick up your drink. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm all grown up now." You say a little harsher than you should. You know you need to move on from him, he clearly doesn't like you as anything more than a friend. You will remind yourself to call Jared later, see if he will give you a second chance.

He watches you take a long sip, feeling guilty for staring but you are beautiful. He’s thought so since the day he met you, although you were too young. Way too young. Although you aren’t now. Feeling guilty again because he is dating Monica, has been for awhile, and she’s been hinting that she wants to get married. He clears his throat, reminding himself that even if he wasn’t with Monica that you wouldn’t be interested in him. You’d want someone your own age. “So what’s been going on? Work? New boyfriend?” He asks as casually as he can possibly muster.

You sigh, looking down at your drink for a moment. "Yeah. It's going well. I have a new job in town. I was living in the city but Mom is struggling since Dad...you know. So I moved back to be closer since the boys are away." You had been devastated to lose your adoptive father, reminded of the loss of your parents even though you never really knew them. "And I just broke up with my boyfriend. It was...complicated." You confess, picking up the cocktail stick to suck the cherry off, chewing it to stop yourself from saying something stupid.

“Not complicated at all, he’s an idiot.” Frankie makes a face, trying to remember if it’s the last douchebag you had brought around before they had deployed. “Anyone who breaks up with you is an idiot. Or if he did something to make you break up with you, he’s an idiot. Unless….” He scowls slightly. “I need to beat his ass on behalf of your brothers?”

You snort, shaking your head. "Even if I did need it, you aren't in fighting shape."

Frankie huffs, "I can still kill a man with one arm." He is half joking and you know it. You know what they are all capable of. It's wrong but a deep part of you finds it unbelievably hot to know Frankie could kill a man with one arm.

"We just...he wanted more from me than I could give." You tell Frankie with honesty.

His frown immediately returns. “That just makes me want to beat his ass more.” He admits, but you shake your head again.

“Not like that, emotionally.” You explain and Frankie feels his heart flip for joy. You hadn’t wanted to be serious with that Jared prick. He relaxes and picks up his beer bottle again before he realizes that he probably needs to eat. His meds are going to kick in soon and while he shouldn’t mix pain meds with beer, it was even worse on an empty stomach.

“You wanna get something to eat?” He asks, knowing Monica is still out of town on some trip so she won’t be calling. Or shouldn’t be.

You couldn't say no even if you wanted to. "Sure. I'm starving. Want to go to the Chinese place down the street?" You ask, knowing you've enjoyed take out from there. He nods and you reach for your purse to pay for your drink but he's already throwing some bills down on the counter. "Frankie." You admonish him, and he tuts, "my round." You fluster, forgetting that last time he was in town, you bought the drinks. "Fine." You huff, shifting off of the bar stool.

Frankie grins and when you both are in the parking lot, he looks around, spotting your car. “Why don’t you leave it here and ride with me?” He asks, knowing that it makes no sense to drive separately when you will most likely end up back here after too many egg rolls.

You nod, making your way over to his truck and he opens the door for you. "I should be doing that for you, you're the one with the injury." You shake your head at him. He shuts the door and rounds the truck to get into the driver's seat.

"I'm fine. I'd be back out there if I could." He confesses, starting the engine. You buckle your seatbelt and lean back to watch him. His profile is completed by the Standard Oil cap that's worn and tatty. You don't know how you've gone so long without seeing him.

"You ever wonder what life would be like if you didn't go back?" You ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

Frowning slightly, he shakes his head. Unable to think about leaving his team over there. “Not now.” He admits. “My brothers, your brothers, are over there and I hate that I’m not able to protect them now.” He looks over at you. “But eventually? When shit dies down? Get married, have a couple of kids. Hopefully not have gotten my dick blown off.” He jokes.

You giggle softly, “I get it. I just - it keeps me awake at night. Wondering if you’re all okay.” You admit, looking out of the window as he drives to the restaurant.

“Even Tom?” He teases. You roll your eyes as you turn your head to look at him. You bite your lip, knowing it’s not the right time to tell him how you feel. It never is.

“Guess time will tell, huh?” You say as nonchalantly as possible.

“Time will tell.” Frankie answers back, wishing for a moment that you were worried about him because you liked him rather than being your brother’s friend. “What about you? Want to get married? Have kids?” He asks, ignoring the heartburn of imagining you having you get married and start a family.

“Eventually. Just gotta find the right guy.” You sigh, knowing you’ve found him but he doesn’t feel the same way. Frankie just hums, making your heart sink even more. “One day though. We will see what happens in the future.” You add, not wanting to shut yourself off from the prospect of loving anyone the way you love Frankie.

Pulling into the parking lot, Frankie shuts off the engine and looks over at you. “Your brothers want you to be happy, as long as they approve.” He jokes. “You know they will hate anyone you are with, right? They hated that twerp Jared.”

You sigh, nodding and you know it’s true. They hate Jared and haven’t made a secret of it. “I’m sure he could be just like them and they’d hate him.” You snort, grabbing the handle to get out of his truck. You head into the Chinese restaurant, getting your usual table, and you both order a beer. “So…anyone special in your life?” You ask, half dread-filled, half curious.

He feels guilty, so fucking guilty, even though he knows he shouldn’t. Instead of telling you the truth, telling you that he’s been seeing Monica for about four months before his latest deployment, he shrugs. “Who has time?” He asks, deflecting. “Always gone.” Doesn’t matter that he slept with her immediately when he got home before his surgery. He doesn’t want to tell you that. ‘Yeah I’ve got this chick that I’m seeing, mostly just fucking, but she wants to get hitched.’ He doesn’t think thats exactly what you want to hear.

Your heart flutters at the news that he doesn't have anyone. That annoying surge of hope. You smother your smile in your chicken and rice soup, "that's-I know it's not easy to maintain any kind of relationship. Will knows that more than any of us" Your brother had a fiancé but she couldn't handle the lack of communication and dumped your brother in a “Dear John" letter that broke his heart.

“Yeah.” Frankie nods and grabs a dumpling off his plate. “It takes a special kind of woman to put up with us when we are gone for so long.” He takes a bite and frowns slightly, not sure if Monica could do that. “But the guys who do have wives look forward to getting home.”

You can't help but wonder how it would be like to be the woman waiting for Frankie to come home. "One day. You’ll find the right woman. You deserve to find the best woman for you." You want to tell him that woman is you. You know everything about him - the good and the bad. Before you can say anything else, the food arrives.

“And you’ll find an asshole that Will and Ben are willing to put up with.” Frankie snickers, grinning at you. “Or they’ll hide him where no one will ever find him.”

You eat, laughing about Will and Benny’s antics on base. Frankie pays despite your protests, and you end up going back to the bar for another drink. Sticking to beer, you buy the round, telling Frankie to go sit down as you grab the drinks. Carrying them over to the table,

You sit down beside him, handing him the bottle. “To old friends.” He smiles, clinking his bottle against yours. “Old friends.” You murmur, taking a long sip.

Frankie sighs, relaxing and smiling at you. You look gorgeous and for a moment he wonders what it would be like to be on a date with you. Would you smile softly at him, and let him kiss you? He’s busy pondering that question and misses the fact that Monica is walking in the door and looking around for him.

You look up when you see the woman approach your table. “This is where you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. Who’s this?” Her eyes narrow as she looks at you, making you frown in confusion.

“Oh. This is Will and Benny’s little sister. We were just catching up.” He tells her your name but your heart sinks at hearing him refer to you as his friends’ sister, not even as his friend.

Frankie doesn’t like the look on Monica’s face, instantly jealous and suspicious but it softens when he explains who you are. It’ll keep him from having problems later on.

“Oh how sweet, making sure she knows they’re safe.” She coos, sliding in beside him and taking his beer to steal a sip. “I know I just worry about Cat all the time.”

You are still so confused, watching this woman wrap her arm around him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. Deep down, you think you know what she is to him, but you need to hear it out loud. “I’m sorry. Frankie’s never mentioned you.” You offer her what you hope is a sweet smile despite the fact that you are jealous of her. You hate to admit it to yourself but it’s true.

“Oh. I’m Frankie’s girlfriend, Monica.” She giggles, kissing his cheek and you swear you die in that dingy bar.

“Oh.” You murmur, unsure of how to react while you progress it, your eyes flicking over to Frankie who seems to be avoiding your gaze. “That’s - it’s nice to meet you.” You lie, blinking rapidly to stop the possibility of tears.

“Thought you didn’t like that term?” He asks, looking over at Monica with a little bit of frustration. “When did you get back into town? You were supposed to be gone until Monday.” He’s not exactly upset, knowing that he’ll get laid, but he doesn’t like the look on your face. Something’s upsetting you and he hopes it’s not him.

You pick up your beer, swallowing down the remainder while Monica leans in to nudge her nose against Frankie's. "I missed you baby. I managed to get out of my meetings early. Wanted to spend as much time as possible with you." She coos, reaching down to squeeze his upper thigh.

"I, um, I better go. I have work in the morning." You announce, setting the beer bottle down. "I'll see you around Frankie. It was nice to meet you Monica." You offer them a tight smile before you grab your purse and stand up, rushing out of the bar with tears streaming down your cheeks.

Frankie watches you go, sighing quietly and he turns to look at Monica. It’s not fair for him to be dating her when he’s not sure if he actually wants her, but she is pretty, she likes him and she’s not the Miller’s little sister. “Why don’t we go back to your place, babe?” He asks, leaning in and kissing her firmly, trying to banish the idea of kissing you out of his mind. “We can see how long I can lean on this shoulder while I make you scream.” He murmurs with a smirk.

Monica giggles, nipping his jaw before she shuffles away from him and stands up. "Come on baby. I promise to ride you too. Give you a break. I need as many orgasms from you as possible before you have to leave." She reaches down to squeeze his ass after he stands up. Frankie sees your car as you pull out of the parking lot, wondering why it took you so long to leave until Monica grabs his attention again, telling him she will meet him at her place.

****

Frankie sighs, looking down at his phone and thinks about calling you. He’s just gotten back to his room from Monica’s and is hoping that you are okay. Opening his phone, he clicks on your contact information and listens to the phone ring. He had wondered if you were upset that he hadn’t told you about Monica, but he couldn’t define what they were right then.

You sniff, wiping your eyes as you finally calm down. Maybe you’re being childish. Frankie isn’t obligated to return your feelings. Just because you want him doesn’t mean he wants you. You need to grow up and realize that. You hear your phone ring and pick it up, seeing Frankie’s contact. “Hey Frank.” You answer softly, hoping he can’t hear you’ve been crying.

“Hey.” Frankie relaxes slightly at the sound of your voice. Moving over to the chair in the small sitting area is his quarters and sitting down. “You left early yesterday. I just- I hoped to spend some more time with you.” He confesses, looking over the picture he has up on the mirror from the last get together they had before this deployment. You were smiling and hanging between him and Benny while Pope stuck rabbit ears over your head and Will just grinned. “You’re not busy at work, are you?” He asks, realizing that he called when you should be at work.

“No. No. I have the day off today.” You lie, you called in sick. You’re confused about why he wants to spend more time with you when he is with Monica. Why would he want to hang around with his friends’ little sister? “What…what do you want to do?” You ask softly.

He scrunches his brow, having specifically heard you say that you had to be at work early today but he shakes his head and grapples for something. “How about we go to a movie? Or we can go to the zoo?” He likes the idea of the zoo, better able to joke with you if he doesn’t have to be quiet.

You frown, realizing those sound like things you’d take a kid to. Still, it’s a chance to spend an afternoon with Frankie. “The zoo sounds good but- are you sure you want to go out with me? I’m sure your girlfriend will want to see you.” You manage to keep the slight tone of sarcasm from your voice.

“Of course I want to spend time with you.” He tells you, shifting to put his phone on speaker so he can start unbuttoning his shirt. He needs to shower, not thinking you will appreciate him showing up in day old clothes even if he showered with Monica last night. “She’s fine, she- it’s not, it’s complicated. Casual.” He mutters lamely.

That stupid feeling of hope flickers in your chest and you hope it really is just casual. You want him to think of you as a woman, not that seventeen year old he met years ago. “Complicated.” You repeat. He hums, suddenly feeling awkward. You dissipate that by agreeing to go to the zoo.

“I’ll pick you up.” He tells you, “does noon work? We can get dinner after.” He adds, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible.

Frankie grins when you agree. “Okay. You shower and get ready and I’ll be there at noon.” He tells you, hanging up the phone before he calls Monica to tell her that he’s going to be busy tonight. Which works out surprisingly well since she just made plans to go visit a girlfriend who was depressed. Grinning, he sits down and types up and email to send to Benny, telling him about the running into you and how he was going to keep an eye on his little sister for him while he was home.

****

You walk along the pathway, giggling at the giraffes as they nudge each other to get at the tree branches. “So Benny emailed me, telling me you emailed him about me.” You look at Frankie after you stop walking. “Said he’s pleased I dumped Jared. I didn’t know you were a gossiper, Francisco.” You tease, a smirk on your face.

“Hey.” He gives you an offended look and reaches out to tug on your earlobe. You are wearing the earrings that your brother had given you last Christmas, from a merchant in the country they had been deployed. Frankie had been with him when he picked them out. “Men gossip, we gossip.” He tells you. “We just call it ‘passing information’.”

You snort, batting his hand away playfully. “Oh sure. I know you all gossip like old women. Sitting around the campfire exchanging the juicy details. Probably exchanging sex stories and talking about the latest camo fashion accessories.” You tease before shrieking when he grabs your waist, pulling you into his chest.

He chuckles, aware that a few people have turned their heads to see what the commotion is. For a second he thinks about kissing you, making it a joke about telling your brother, but he doesn’t want to do that. Not when he’s seeing Monica - that wouldn’t be fair. And also because he would want to kiss you for real. Instead he just lifts a brow and smirks at you. “Sex stories are okay. Especially when you know you’re good.”

You scoff, pushing away from him. You know he is just being friendly and you can’t let yourself give in to the fantasy that this is a date. “Which I doubt any of you are, so that topic of gossip must be short lived.” You tease, despite knowing he’s good. You’ve heard the stories from your brothers when they complained about him keeping them up at night when Frankie had a girl in his room.

“You must be talking about your brothers.” He huffs, even if he’s grinning. “Mostly they sit at my feet and try to learn from my stories.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I don’t want to know about them.” You wrinkle your nose, “as for you…I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

He grins, “I’ll have to prove it to you one day.” It slips out before he can stop it and you freeze, knowing he’s just joking around but your stomach twists at the idea of experiencing his prowess first hand.

You clear your throat and glance back towards the giraffes. “So when do you think you’ll be going back?” You ask, changing the subject.

He’s not wearing the sling today. Working on his range of motion, the bandage has been changed from a huge one to just one that protects the surgical incisions that will be healed soon. “Just as soon as they let me.” He confides. “I don’t like your brothers over there without me flying them.” Call it cockiness, call it ego, whatever, but Frankie knows his skills and he needs to be there with them. “Probably another month.” He tosses you a grin and decides to tease you. “Why? Ready to get rid of my ass already? Here I was planning to spend the month keeping you from complaining to Benny that you’re bored all the time.”

You shake your head, “I don’t want you to go back. I worry about you too much. About - about you all.” You add hastily, not wanting to make him think you are interested in him and only him. “Guess I’ll have to put up with you for the month. Though I’m sure Monica will be pleased to have you.” You mention his…whatever she is. Wondering what he will say.

“Yeah, I guess.” He honestly hadn’t given much thought to that aspect of it, beyond seeing her. He likes her, but he also doesn’t look forward to seeing her like he looks forward to seeing you. Instead of thinking about it, he shoots you a grin. “So give me a list of all the things you want to do. Skydiving, rock climbing, going for a helicopter ride.”

You shake your head at all of those suggestions as you continue walking through the zoo. “Skydiving? Hell no. Rock climbing? Sure I’ll give it a try. As for the helicopter…you know how I feel about flying.” You wrinkle your nose, always scared of flying. “What about going to that new bar in town? I hear they have good music. Dancing. Maybe…maybe I can meet someone.” You ponder softly, knowing you need to move on from him. You have to.

His brow shoots up and he tries to suppress the flash of irrational anger at you wanting to meet someone. It wasn’t fair to you to hold the fact that he had a stupid crush on you over your head. “You want me to be your wingman?” He asks, giving you an evil grin. “Like help you or break their hands?”

His reaction tells you all you need to know. He’s with Monica and he doesn’t want you. You shake your head, “you know I’m capable of breaking their hands myself. Will and Benny made sure I knew how to defend myself.” You chuckle, reminded of those afternoons in the garden while they taught you some moves. “But you can help.” You add lamely before you spot the elephants. “Oh. My favorite animal. Come on.” You grab his hand - not the bandaged one - and drag him over to the elephants, a smile on your face as you watch them.

He smiles, loving your enthusiasm for the gentle giants, causally keeping his hand in yours. Friends hold hands, that’s perfectly acceptable. Although it’s not friendship that has his heart pounding in his chest.

****

Frankie’s eyes widen when you open the door and he sees you dressed up. “Holy- your brother is going to kill me for letting you go out like that.” He whistles through his teeth and shuffles slightly to cover up the fact that his dick likes what you are wearing.

You roll your eyes at Frankie, "what they don't know won't hurt them. You gonna tell them and risk your balls?" You grab your purse, not noticing the way he's stiffened slightly, and he shakes his head when you look back at him. Both in response to your question and to clear his head. "Come on then, Fish. Let's go check this place out. See if it's as good as our usual." You step towards your front door, setting the alarm Will and Benny had insisted upon before you lock up after Frankie steps out.

Frankie walks you over to his truck and insists on holding the door for you. The step up is a big one, so he stands in front of you and helps you get in without flashing anyone you don’t want to. “I guess you really are looking for someone to take home.” He grumbles when he sees how high the hem rides up when you sit down.

You don't hear him, shifting to adjust your dress, and you wonder if he even feels slightly attracted to you or will he always see you as that awkward seventeen year old. He gets in, turning on the engine - his arm is now nearly healed - and you look out the window as he pulls out of your parking lot. "You'll be going back soon, huh?" You ask. Unable to deny that you're gonna miss him. You've spent a lot of time with him, having lunches, dinners, drinks. You'd almost say you were dating except the constant calls from Monica along with him always leaving in a rush soon after the call that no doubt assures him he is getting laid.

“Next week, hopefully.” Frankie nods, backing out of the spot before throwing the truck in drive. “The doctor says it’s almost a hundred percent and I’ve hit all my goals in PT.” He taps his fingers on the steering wheel to the music playing softly over the radio and wonders if you will miss him. “Probably be happy to have a break from me.” He teases, smirking as he glances over at you. “No more annoying you to spend time with me.”

You smile, shaking your head. "I think I am going to miss you a little too much." You realize what you said and try to amend it, "who else am I going to get ice cream with on a Thursday afternoon?" You wink at him, "but I will feel better with you over there, having Benny and Will's back. Along with Pope."

Frankie turns to look at you, "what about Tom?" He teases.

You snort, "please baby, you know how I feel about him." The nickname slips through your lips before you can think about it.

Frankie coughs, shifting in his seat and quickly looks back onto the road. He can’t do this anymore. He needs to stop wishing that he was with you. Your brothers will kill him and he’s too old for you. “So this bar.” He starts. “What kind of guy are you looking to pick up?”

You bite your lip, "someone - someone cute. Dark eyes, curly dark hair, broad shoulders, maybe a military man. God knows there are enough of them around here. I just want someone who can handle me and accept me as I am." Jared had tried to change you. He wanted you to lose weight, wanted you to wear more makeup and get waxed how he preferred. He didn't accept you as you are.

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say him. That he fit that criteria and would gladly turn the truck around and take you home. Instead he focuses on the last part of your comments. “Change you?” He growls, shaking his head and frowning. “Is that what that bastard tried to do? I’m going to kill him.”

You reach out to touch Frankie's arm, "hence why it didn't work out. Please, don't tell Benny and Will. I can't hear another 'told you so' about one of my boyfriends. Jared. He - he wanted me to lose weight, wear more makeup. Said he wanted a girlfriend that turned heads when he walked into a room with her." You leave out the part where he said "a girlfriend who isn't in love with another man."

Frankie snorts, shaking his head. “I knew he was a fucking idiot, but I didn’t think he was blind.” He huffs. “I won’t tell them.” He promises you as he turns into the bar’s busy parking lot. “But the second some limp-dicked pussy tries that shit on you again, you kick him in the balls. There’s nothing wrong with you.” He doesn’t add that you would make a dead man hard like he wants to, feeling like you wouldn’t appreciate it. Plus he’s with Monica.

You fluster, knowing he’s being a good friend, but you wonder if he’s ever thought of you like that. You don’t have time to dwell on that as you take Frankie’s hand after he parks, kills the engine, and rounds the truck to help you out. “What do you want to drink? Beer and a shot? First round is on me.” You tell him as you walk inside the bustling bar.

“You gotta stop paying for me.” He grumbles, letting his hand rest on your lower back as he follows you in. “I’m supposed to be buying you drinks.” He huffs, looking around and scouting the exits in case something goes down. It’s something he does in every new building he walks into.

You feel eyes on you, no doubt the skimpy dress has helped you gain attention, but you feel like Frankie's hand on your back is a deterrent. Even if you love how possessive it feels. Ordering the drinks, you lean against the bar and look across the crowd. "So, anyone you think would work for me?" You ask, half wondering if he is as totally fine with this as he makes out.

“No.” The word is out of his mouth before he even thinks about it, hovering behind you and halfway wishing he could push against your ass. He huffs to himself and tries to deflect. “None of these assholes are good enough for you.”

You roll your eyes, sipping on your beer. “Now you sound just like my brothers. What about him?” You ask, pointing subtly at the guy across the bar who looks the complete opposite of Frankie. Blonde, blue eyes, and a lot taller.

Frankie scowls, curling his lip up at how beefy the guy looks. “Fuck no.” He huffed. “Dude’s in love with the gym. He won’t want to cuddle and eat pizza. Plus, he looks like your brothers.” He adds for extra effect.

You wrinkle your nose at that, imagining being with someone like Benny or Will. Frankie smirks that his comment clearly worked. You turn your head, “what about him?” You point to the guy across the room wearing a leather jacket, his dark hair making him look mysterious. Like Frankie if he was a biker.

“Who the fuck wears a leather jacket in a bar when it’s a hundred degrees?” He scoffs, eyeing the guy and sizing him up. He could see that it was all for effect, the guy didn’t hold himself like a man who actually was dangerous. He’s puffed up and full of himself. “He looks like he’s a fucking problem.” He tells you. “If he grabs your ass, I’m breaking his hand.”

You hate the way your cunt clenches at the thought, imagining him defending you like that. You take another sip of your beer before your latest favorite song comes on, people dancing in the makeshift dance floor in the middle. “Well if there’s no one here that’s suitable, you’re just gonna have to dance with me so we have fun.” You tell him, grabbing his hand with your free one, dragging him to the dance floor.

He doesn’t hate dancing with you. Far from it. He fucking loves it. Getting to pull you close and hold you against him while both of you move to the music? It’s fantastic. Frankie laughs, pushing you away so he can twirl you in his arms and drag you back against him. No pain in his shoulder. Smirking when you giggle and he thinks it’s gorgeous, just like you. “Having fun yet?”

You nod, a wide smile on your face. “Yes. I am now. This place is cool, huh?” You ask him, spinning around again before he replies and says yes. You wrap your arms around his neck, rocking your hips to the beat, and you swallow harshly when your eyes meet his, the song ending and transitioning into something slower.

He feels it. A spark between you and it fucking terrifies him. Hating the idea that he’s misreading and you don’t actually look like you want to kiss him. He turns his head slightly, looking back at the bar. “Do you want another drink?” He asks, relaxing his grip on your hips before he does something dumb like try to kiss you.

You nod, swallowing harshly as you follow him to the bar. It’s awkward as you realize how close you came to kissing him. You lean against the bar as he orders another round and he pulls back when his phone rings, and you sigh, knowing who it is.

Frankie pulls out his phone and sees that it’s not Monica. It’s an international number. Benny. “Hey man.” He answers, talking over the crowd. “When did you learn how to use a phone?” He jokes, knowing how much Benny hates dialing international calling codes.

“Fuck you. I know how to call a fucking cell phone, Fish.” Benny scoffs, “where are you? It’s so fucking loud.” He never holds back on cursing unless he’s round his mama or you.

“A bar. With your sister.” He adds hesitantly.

Benny clenches his jaw, “with my sister?” He asks roughly, “what the fuck is she doing at a bar.”

“She’s over twenty-one.” Frankie reminds Benny, knowing that the overprotective older brother sometimes forgot that. “We are here for some drinks, she wanted to dance.”

Benny huffs and Frankie wonders what the other man is thinking, although he tells him soon enough. “You keep those motherfuckers off my sister, man. She’s not some skank they can bang and drop. I’d hate to have to fucking kill one of them.”

Frankie chuckles, “don’t worry man. No one will be touching her tonight. None of the assholes in here are good enough.” He says that with surety.

“Or you. I don’t want to hear about you fucking her either otherwise I’ll kick your ass across the damn desert. Then Will will finish the job.” Benny warns his friend, knowing he’s home and shit happens with booze is involved.

Frankie grunts, knowing that whatever he wanted to happen with you just died a painful death. Your brothers wouldn’t approve. He looks over at you and nods even though his friend can’t see him. “Roger.” He tells him before he hangs up.

You watch Frankie on the phone, frowning at the dark look on his face, when you’re interrupted by the blonde man you spotted earlier. “Hey beautiful. What’s got you frowning?” He asks, leaning in closer.

You sigh, looking up at him. “Just - why can’t men see something when it’s right in front of their face?” You ask with exasperation. You thought you and Frankie were all but dating. Going out together, dinners, ice cream, zoo days out and trips to the movies. It’s dating without the intimacy.

“Well whoever he is, he must be blind because I’m looking at the most beautiful woman in here tonight. Hell, in town.” He flirts, winking at you.

Frankie turns and watches the man flirt with you as he finishes up the conversation. Hating that you are giggling at whatever he says when he’s pulling the phone down to hang up. You are turned towards him so Frankie waves the bartender down to ask for the tab after ordering you another drink. He needs to get away from you. Your brother’s call made him realize he would never be able to be with you, so he needs to make a choice.

You chuckle at Brad’s charming jokes, rolling your eyes playfully and when you turn around to look for Frankie, he’s gone. “Everything okay, sugar?” Brad asks. You continue looking until you give up after asking the bartender who said Frankie paid the tab. You deflate, knowing that it was Monica on the phone and he’s ditched you for her.

Looking up at Brad, you nod shakily. “Yeah. Yeah. Everything is fine. Now, are you gonna offer to take me on the dance floor?” You ask him, trying to shove away the rejection and focus on having a good time. Frankie clearly doesn’t feel the same and you need to accept that.

In the parking lot, Frankie pulls out his phone again, calling Monica and listening to the phone ring. “Pick up, pick up.” He mutters, needing to see her before he goes back in there and drags you away from that guy.

“Hey baby!” Her voice is bright, happy to hear from him. Guilt that he’s not always happy to hear from her floods him but he shakes his head, knowing he’s doing the right thing for once.

“Hey, can I come over? I want to ask you something.”

****

Brad had just left when Frankie arrives. The tall blonde man had been a good distraction from Frankie for the past few days. Stopping you from picking up the phone to call him, or text him. You let yourself be distracted by Brad. He’s a good man, funny, handsome, sort of good in bed. He’s made you cum once which is more than you can say for most. Perhaps, if you’re truly honest, he made you cum because you were thinking about Frankie. God, you feel like shit for admitting that to yourself. When the man himself appears on your doorstep, you’re frosty. “Hey.” You say coolly, unable to believe he ditched you at the bar.

“Hey.” Frankie shuffles slightly, rubbing his hands on his pants. You’re mad at him, that’s obvious. “I- sorry about the other night.” He apologizes lamely, knowing it’s not an excuse. He can’t tell you that your brother warned him off of you so he needed to leave before he did something stupid. “It looked like you and blondie were having fun so I figured my role of wingman was complete.” He jokes, giving a flat chuckle that is absolutely forced.

You shake your head, stepping aside to let him inside. “You didn’t have to leave. He was just being nice. Introduced himself. I just- I don’t understand. We were having fun and then…radio silence since too. I know it was Monica who called and she doesn’t exactly like me.” You cross your arms, reminded of the times she’s invaded on your hang outs to put her arm around Frankie and mark her territory. “But I thought - with you going back soon…” You trail off, feeling stupid.

“Monica likes you.” Frankie’s protest is weak and he knows it. He sighs and reaches out, unable to resist pulling you close to hug you. “I’ve loved hanging out with you.” He tells you honestly, rubbing your back. “I- there was something that I needed to do, and that’s why I was out of comms for a couple of days.”

You let him pull you close, resisting the urge to snuggle into his arms, and you wrap your arms around his waist, just breathing him in. “What was important enough to keep you away?” You murmur into his chest.

He’s silent for several moments until he finally speaks. “I asked Monica to marry me.” You almost don’t hear him but you do, reeling back and staring at him in shock. Too shocked to cry or scream or do anything other than stare at him.

“What- you- you asked her to marry you?” He nods and you swallow down the lump in your throat, reminding yourself that first and foremost he’s your friend. You feel betrayed, heartbroken, and destroyed, but you nod, offering him a watery smile. “That’s - wow. Congratulations.” You say weakly.

He doesn’t get the reaction he had been almost hoping for. He had hope, just a tiny bit, that you would tell him no. That it was a horrible idea and that you loved him. Far fetched and the things of delusional fantasies. He gives a small sigh and swipes his hat off his head to rub underneath it before jamming it back on. “Thanks.” He takes another breath. “So we were thinking about doing it before I go back. So it’s official and she can get housing and everything. Medical.”

You somehow manage to maintain your composure. Wondering how the hell Frankie went from dancing with you to getting married to another woman within a matter of days. Yet he’s your friend so you have to at least pretend to be happy for him. “Oh. Yeah. Uh, that will be nice.” You offer him a smile, willing yourself to just maintain your composure until he leaves, then you can break down. “Don’t you want to wait until the boys can be here?” You frown, knowing how much they all mean to him.

Shaking his head, he props his hands on his hips. “Going to do a courthouse wedding and then when we come back, we figured we could do a proper wedding.” He tilts his head and turns his eyes to pleading orbs of soft brown fuzz. “Will you be a witness? For me?” He asks softly. “I want you to be there.”

It kills you, the look in his eyes. You want to scream at him not to do it. You want to beg him to call it off, you want to yell that you love him, he should be with you, but you don’t. You nod, “sure. I can do that.” You answer with the response of a good friend. “When’s the wedding?” You ask, knowing you’ll need time to figure out how you’re going to survive it.

“You will?” He straightens up, surprised that you will.

“Of course. You’re my friend.” You smile brightly and Frankie grits his teeth. Friend. Yep. That’s all you were to each other. Friends.

“So, we are thinking that we’ll get married on Wednesday.” He explains. “I have my flight out on Sunday. Gives us plenty of time to get her ID and get her in the system before I leave.”

It sounds like a transaction, not a romantic gesture, but who are you to question it. As long as he’s happy. You nod, “just let me know when and where. I’ll be there for you.” You reach for his hand, allowing yourself one more moment of contact, “I just want you to be happy.”

Except he’s not sure that he’s going to be happy. Frankie squeezes your hand regardless and nods. “Thank you.” He mutters and hates when you pull away. “It’s going to be just us and her best friend.” He tells you, licking his lips and running through everything he has to do now. “I’ll text you the time but I’ve got to meet her at the courthouse now for the license.” He admits, leaning in and hugging you once more quickly.

“Go. I’ll wait for your text.” You tell him, somehow managing to keep yourself together. He steps towards the door, glancing back at you once before he leaves, shutting the door behind him. You wait a few moments before you collapse, sobbing and wrapping your arms around yourself. It’s over. Any chance you foolishly thought you had with Frankie is gone.

****

Frankie isn’t nervous, he’s not much of anything beyond jittery. Not because he’s looking forward to this, but because it’s the end of his bachelorhood. Stepping forward into being married and hopefully closing the door on these stupid feelings he has for you. He likes Monica and he knows he could love her. Once he gets the idea of you and him out of his head. It might not be the right thing to do, but he has to get over you.

Getting ready for Frankie’s wedding is painful. You knew you’d have to face it one day, but you secretly hoped you’d be the bride. You slide into your heels, grabbing your purse, and gulp down the remainder of the booze you’d allowed yourself for getting through this event. Driving to the courthouse, you park and see Frankie pacing in the lobby when you enter. “You doing okay? Nervous?” You tease to try and stop yourself from crying. You’ve cried enough in the past few days.

“I guess.” He gives you a one shoulder shrug and reaches out to pull you against him for a hug. Needing this one last moment where he can pretend that you are the one that he’s marrying. But he’s made his bed and he has to lay in it. “You look good.” He murmurs in your ear. “Thank you for being here.”

You close your eyes, trying to stop the damn tears, and you breathe him in, inhaling his cologne and the scent that is just Frankie. “Of course.” You say awkwardly, clearing your throat as you pull away from him. The words you desperately want to say are on the tip of your tongue. You want to beg him to not marry her, tell him you love him. You open your mouth, heart thumping as you attempt it, just one last chance, but the door opens and they announce they are ready for him. You stare at him for another moment, knowing that as soon as steps into that room, it’s all over.

Frankie stares at you for another moment and decides that he’s going to do it. Leaning in, he kisses your cheek softly and pulls back to give you a quick wink, settling into a confident facade. “Let’s go get me married.” He tells you, more enthusiastic than he feels.

You follow him, sitting down on his side of the small room when the music begins to play and you stand up, Monica’s friend is a makeshift bridesmaid as she walks down the aisle dressed in her Sunday best. Then Monica appears, wearing a white dress - it’s not a wedding dress- but she still looks beautiful. It’s hard to not cry, your nails dig into your palms as you force yourself to keep calm. Even when they exchange vows and he slides the ring onto her finger, you maintain your composure. Even through the announcement of them being husband and wife and their kiss, you keep it together. “Congratulations.” You tell Monica after standing up and walking over to her and Frankie.

“Thank you.” She beams up at Frankie and leans in to kiss his smooth jaw. “I’m just thrilled we were able to do this before he went back.” She gushes, her ringed hand sliding down and resting on her stomach. “Make sure that everything is done for the baby.”

Frankie looks away, not able to look at you just yet. He hadn’t told you that Monica announced she was pregnant a few days ago. Making his decision easy. He took responsibility for his actions and mistakes and he hadn’t hated the idea of having a family waiting on him. Even if it wasn’t you.

If you thought your heart was broken watching Frankie get married, hearing that Monica is pregnant shatters it into pieces. You feel sick, unable to believe that this is happening. You freeze for a moment, processing, until you remind yourself that you need to act like you’re happy for him, you can break down later. “Oh. Wow, um, that’s…that’s…congratulations. On the wedding and the - the baby.” Your eyes flick over to Frankie as he turns away and he looks guilty.

“It’s a shock.” Monica giggles, curling against Frankie’s side. “I told him that he must have knocked me up the day he got home, wounded shoulder and all.”

Frankie dutifully chuckles and finally looks back over at you. You look stunned, but he’s sure that it’s because of the pregnancy announcement. “Yeah. We wanted to make sure that things were set up in case….” He trails off, not saying that it’s in case he doesn’t come back from this deployment.

“Yeah. That’s, uh, that’s smart.” You offer her a forced smile. “Well I’m sure you’ll want to celebrate. I’m, I’ll go, leave you. I’m gonna - I’m gonna go home. Congratulations.” You tell them, quickly spinning on your heel and making your way out of the room. You’d already signed as a witness so your job is done. Not even making it out of the courthouse before tears begin to stream down your cheeks. It’s truly over. It’s time to move on from Frankie.

****

Frankie looks around the airport, looking for you. He had texted you when he was leaving, halfway hoping that you would show up to see him off. Instead Monica pulls him close for another kiss. “I’m going to miss you.” She pouts and Frankie chuckles, focusing on his wife. Weird to say that or even think that, but she deserves his attention.

“I’ll be home soon.” He promises. “Just four more months. And we’ll be home for at least eight months so I won’t miss the baby’s birth.”

You haven’t been able to leave your house since the day of the wedding, wallowing in your own pity because the man you love is married and has a baby on the way with another woman. You’ve ignored his texts, knowing you need to just shut yourself off from him, you can’t see him again, not yet. Brad even calls to check on you but you tell him you are just going through something and you’re sorry but you’ll call him soon. He’s nice and maybe he will understand you if you explain what happened. For now though, you will wallow and try not to feel guilty for not saying goodbye to Frankie when he’s heading back to an active war zone.

Frankie lands back onto his base, thirty-six hours after leaving and sighs as he shoulders his bag and starts moving towards the area where his team is set up. He’s checked in with Monica, who was in the process of moving into the house on base he had set up before he left. Wishing that you had texted him, but he pushes it aside, knowing that he will have to just view you as his friend’s sister from now on.

“Hey man!” Benny runs towards him and stops short, throwing him a salute since the base commanders get fussy over fraternization in public. They know the teams are all friends but just ask they keep it professional around the regular soldiers. “You’re back!”

Frankie grins, the worries from home sliding away and he nods. “Somebody’s gotta save your ass in a pinch.”

Benny playfully rolls his eyes, “I’m sure I could figure out how to fly a chopper in a pinch.” Frankie guffaws at that, shaking his head at the cockiness of his friend. “So you really did it, huh?” Benny asks, pointing to Frankie’s left hand.

Frankie lifts his hand and looks at him, smirking proudly. “I did.” He tells him. “Got something else to show you too.” He reaches in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet to show Benny the picture of the positive pregnancy test. Monica hadn’t been able to get an ultrasound yet, but he couldn’t wait to see the baby. “Did something else too.”

“Holy shit.” Benny’s eyes widen, “you move quickly. Shit. Just got married and already got her pregnant.”

Frankie rolls his eyes, “she was pregnant when I married her.”

Benny bites his lip, pausing for a second, “so that’s why you married her?” He knows his friend, certain that he wouldn’t have married Monica without the team being there unless there was a reason. When he emailed to tell them he was getting married, they all suspected something else.

“Not entirely.” Frankie shifts slightly and tucks the photo away. “I had been thinking about it. Was going to ask her.” He doesn’t tell your brother that the only reason he was thinking about it was to try to get over you.

“But when she told me she was pregnant?”

He shrugs and looks around. “You know the odds, man.” He tells Benny quietly. “My widow would have more benefits than my pregnant baby momma. So we just moved up the date rapidly.”

Benny nods, understanding how the system works. He knows why Frankie did it but it’s still not what he expected his usually methodical friend to fuck up on. “Let’s get you back. Pope wants to give you shit for missing out on being your best man. I told him to fuck off, that’s my position so you gotta pick one for when we are all back and you’re getting married in a big ole ceremony where we can all get drunk.” Benny grins as he guides Frankie out of the hangar.

“Shiiiit.” Frankie huffs, even as he grins at the other delta team member. “Neither one of you will my best man.” He jokes, just to see Benny pout. “We’ve got to just get through this deployment.”

Benny nods, knowing he needs to get back to his sister and mom along with Will. Plus Tom wants to get back for his family, and Frankie has something to fight for now. “How’s my sister?” Benny asks as they walk towards the barracks.

“She’s, uh, she’s good.” Frankie tells him, nodding to the soldiers that are passing by. Outside buildings, enlisted are not supposed to salute officers for safety. “I spent a lot of time with her while I was home. Keeping her entertained.”

“Hopefully not too entertained.” Benny raises his eyebrows.

Frankie shakes his head. “No more entertained than going to the zoo and the movies.”

Benny hums, “has she got a new boyfriend yet? I don’t want to kill someone as soon as I get home.” He chuckles darkly.

Frankie shakes his head, heart clenching. “At some point she’s gonna want to grow up, hermano.” He reminds Benny. “Just make sure she knows you have her back.” He sighs. “She met someone at the bar, but I don’t think that they are dating yet. She didn’t say.”

Benny frowns at that, “well, I guess we will see what happens. I just- I don’t want to see her get hurt. I saw how broken up Will was and I don’t want that to happen to her. She doesn’t deserve that kind of heartbreak.”

****

The months go by and you’re happy with Brad. You told him about Frankie, warned him that you aren’t ready for anything emotional and he understands. You told him everything and he’s essentially a friend with benefits but both of you are okay with that. Perhaps he wants something more but he’s never made it obvious.

You arrive at the base, eager to see Will and Benny again after so many months. You're there early, practically bouncing on your heels, and you ignore the voice deep down that tells you you are excited to see Frankie. He's married. Just as you think that, Monica appears beside you, looking more than five or six months pregnant, she looks ready to burst. You frown but are distracted when the crowd begins to get louder as the arrivals pour into the hangar.

Shuffling off the bus, Frankie spots Monica and his eyes go wide. “Holy shit man, your wife having twins?” Will asks, making Frankie shake his head.

“God, I don’t know.” He huffs. “She’s said everything is perfect. Maybe I just make big babies?” He glances around and spots you, unable to stop the pounding in his heart at the sight of you. “There’s your sister.”

Your eyes scan the crowd of men and women in uniform until you see Frankie. His gaze is firmly set on Monica, making your stomach sink, until you remind yourself that he isn't yours, he never was. Benny distracts you, scooping you up into a hug and Will isn't too far behind him. "Hey trouble." Benny kisses your cheek sloppily, making you give a false cry of disgust. You've missed them so much. Turning to hug Will, you pull him close, thankful they are both safe and unharmed.

Frankie walks up to Monica, smiling at the sign she’s holding up. “Hey, baby.” He leans in and kisses her, trying not to disturb the baby bump too badly. “How’s everything?”

Monica grins, excited to see Frankie after so long apart. “Hey sweetheart. It’s going well. The bean is healthy.” She chuckles, bringing his hand down to her bump. “I bet you’re exhausted. Come on, let’s go. I have dinner ready for you.” She doesn’t want him hanging around to see you.

You, meanwhile, are hugging Santi who comes up to greet you. The boys look over to see Frankie guiding Monica away from the crowd. “Huh, guess she’s given him her orders.” Tom snorts, reminded of the demanding emails and letters Frankie got from Monica during his deployment.

Benny snorts, shaking his head. “Probably taking him home to fuck him stupid.” He crows, happy that his friend is getting some. “Aren’t pregnant women like super horny? And she’s really pregnant and Fish’s been gone.”

You frown, knowing you shouldn’t care but it still kills you inside. Pope wraps his arm around your shoulders, “come on hermaña, let’s go get a drink. I’m fucking thirsty.” He says, guiding you out and away from Frankie and Monica while your brothers follow.

****

Frankie has been to the house that he is going to share with Monica, to build their family in, one time. The day they got the keys for base housing. She drives, making him shift in his seat slightly as he looks out at the neatly trimmed lawns and sighs when he sees the sign for Capt. Morales. “Home sweet home.” She chirps, pulling into the driveway beside his truck and parking before she sneaks her hand between his legs. “I’ve missed you, baby.” She purrs, horny and wanting him.

Frankie groans, it’s been so long with just him and his hand. He hisses and bucks up into her touch. “Shit baby. Let’s- let’s get inside.” He orders, needing to see the house before he fucks his wife. He’s not gonna last long, it’s been too long without a warm pussy around his cock. He grabs his bag and follows her as she waddles to the front door. “Are you- are you sure you’re okay for sex?” He asks softly, realizing how big she is. He doesn’t want to hurt her.

“Oh yes.” She giggles, climbing out of the car and waddling around it towards the front door. “The doctor said and we are all clear to have as much sex as we want.” She unlocks the door and pushes it open. “So I want you to fuck me from behind, I don’t even care if you last two seconds.”

Frankie nods, knowing that she wouldn’t harm the baby in favor of sex. He tosses his duffel bag down, reaching for Monica to press his lips to hers. “Show me our bedroom, baby.” He orders, reaching for her hand.

Monica guides him through the house, she’s brought over everything from her apartment since he didn’t have any furniture, and has been getting the nursery ready. “God I’ve missed you baby.” She coos. “I know I’m larger than I was when you left, but my pussy is still tight.”

Frankie chuckles, “always was. God I missed you. I wish you had sent me photos of you. Some titty pics would’ve been nice for my mornings in the john.” He teases, reaching for the hem of her shirt, he wants to see the baby bump. He pulls the shirt off of her, kneeling down in front of her to see the bump. “God, they’re a big baby. Hope they haven’t been causing mama too much trouble.” He kisses her bump, unable to believe he’s going to be a father. It feels so real now.

Monica sighs happily, thoroughly pleased with how eager Francisco is to be a father. “Not too much.” She murmurs, running her fingers through his short hair and feeling the stubbly razored edges. “Just a foot in my ribs sometimes.” She bites her lip and reaches for his hands, wanting him to touch her. “Frankie, I need you to fuck me.” She begs, wanting to keep him happy. “Fuck your wife.”

He stumbles to his feet, uninterested in foreplay. He just needs to fuck. He strips his clothes, kicking his boots aside within seconds and he shoves her leggings down. “Kneel on the bed baby.” He orders, reaching down to wrap his fingers around his hard cock. Her tits are bigger and he feels sad for a moment that it isn’t you. You’re not the mother of his child. Monica kneels, giggling as she shakes her ass, and Frankie kneels behind her, spitting into his palm before he notches his cock at her entrance, slowly pushing into her.

“Oh fuck, Fraaaaaankieeee.” Monica moans, arching her back and she clenches down around him. “Fuck baby, I’ve missed that big cock.” She whimpers, knowing how much Frankie loved dirty talk in bed. “Needed you inside me. My toys weren’t enough.” She rocks her hips back and looks over her shoulder. “You won’t hurt me, trust me.”

“Yeah? You want me to fuck that tight little cunt, baby?” He groans, gripping her hips. “Look at you. Full of my baby and desperate for my cock. So fucking beautiful and all mine. God, I- I love you.” He imagines it’s you beneath him. Married to him, pregnant with his child. It’s wrong but his mind just envisions you instead of Monica. What he wanted instead of what he got. He hisses, his cock twitching and within a few thrusts, he buries himself deep and moans your name.

Monica gasps, moving faster than Frankie was expecting for a woman as largely pregnant as she is. Turning around and smacking him in the face. “What the fuck, Francisco?” She screams, face full of fury. “Why the fuck are you moaning her name while your fucking me?” She demands. “Are you fucking her? Have you been cheating on me?!” Her voice pitches up and she starts to have tears roll down her face.

Frankie is still in a haze of lust when she slaps him and his eyes widen. “No. No! Baby. I- shit - I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean - it just slipped out and I- I’m not cheating on you. I’m not fucking her. How could I? I’ve been away for four fucking months?” He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. Please.” He begs, reaching for her. He feels incredibly guilty. He just moaned your name while inside of the mother of his child.

“You fucking asshole!” She jerks away from him and grunts, shuffling awkwardly to the edge of the bed and hefting herself off of it. “I knew it! I knew you were more than friends with that little slut.” She shrieks, ignoring the pain in her back and the way she has ached all day. She was just excited to see Frankie and now that’s ruined. “How many times did you fuck her? She was always around. Mooning at you with hearts in her eyes.”

Frankie shakes his head, “no. No. We are just friends. Jesus, Monica. She’s my best friends’ little sister. They’d have my balls if I even thought about her like that. Please baby. You gotta calm down for the baby.” He pleads, watching her shuffle across the room.

“No. No. You wanted to though. That’s why you went out on so many fucking ‘dates’ with her. Taking her to the fucking zoo. You have never taken me to the goddamn zoo. I - shit.” Monica hisses and Frankie rushes over to her. “Don’t touch me!” She growls before there’s a trickling noise. Both of them look down to see water on the carpet.

“Did you - did you pee?” Frankie frowns.

Monica’s eyes go wide, “my water just broke.”

Frankie’s eyes widen and he panics. “Jesus Christ. It’s not- it’s not time. It’s not time. We gotta get you to the hospital.” Frankie says, reaching for his pants. She’s only six months pregnant, it’s too soon. He will never forgive himself if something happens to the baby because of his slip of the tongue. “Come on. Come on.” He ushers Monica towards the door after shoving on his boots and a shirt before he puts another shirt of his on Monica.

“What the fuck?“ Monica hisses, batting his hands away from her. “Don’t touch me. You said another woman’s fucking naaaaaaaaaame-“ she yells the last word, hunching over one the driveway when another pain hits her, this one stronger than the others now that her water has broken. Panting and and cursing through it with her hands on her knees. “Oh fuck.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry but you need to get to the hospital. Please, we gotta-” He grabs her keys, guiding her towards the car. He helps her into the car despite her screaming at him. He gets into the driver’s seat, backing out of the driving and speeding towards the hospital. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” He promises as she pants.

“Fuck you, Frankie. Fuckkkkk.” She squeals, clutching her stomach.

He’s terrified, the one and only time that he’s had sex with with his wife and not only did he fuck up and say your name, but he did something wrong and made her water break. She was going to hate him. He reaches over and takes her hand, holding firm when she tries to pull away. “Squeeze, baby. Just crush my hand.” He orders her despite everything wrong right now he needs to be there for her. His wife is giving birth to his child, his premie baby.

Monica doesn’t argue, squeezing his hand as she grits her teeth. Upon pulling up outside of the military hospital, Frankie abandons the car outside after Monica is being wheeled into the maternity ward. “It’s gonna be okay.” He promises Monica despite being terrified. He’s not ready. He thought he had more time and he’s already fucked up by causing his baby to be born three months early.

“It’s too soon.” Frankie blurts out when they wheel her into a private room, giving the nurse a frantically pleading expression. “I-I fucked up, we had sex and her water broke.”

The nurse gives him a patient smile, “babies are born when they want to be and not a moment before.” She promises. “We will take good care of your wife and baby.” She’s seen it all before, but she doesn’t voice her opinion. This is not a premature baby, and it’s not too soon. “Let’s get you changed mama.”

Frankie isn’t sure what to do, he’s freaking out but he stays strong for Monica. Helping her onto the bed after she gets changed into a gown. The nurse examines Monica, Frankie holding onto her hand as he almost shakes. He’s faced death head on but he’s never been so scared. “It definitely looks like you’re in labor. Four centimeters dilated so definitely on your way. How far along are you?” The nurse asks, needing to hear it confirmed.

Monica's eyes widen and she throws Frankie a look. “I need my bag.” She insists, pushing at Frankie’s shoulder, frantically. “The bag is in the trunk. Go get it!”

Frankie knows he’s fucked up so he doesn’t argue, nodding and kissing Monica’s hair. “I’ll be right back baby. I gotta park the car too.” He says before making his way out of the room. The nurse waits for Monica to answer her question.

“I’m due next week.” Monica confesses, “don’t tell him. Please. I just- I need to figure out how to tell him myself.” She bites her lip, wondering if the nurse is judging her. She didn’t mean for all this to happen, but when Frankie had wanted to get married, she had kept her mouth shut.

“It’s not my business to tell your husband. Just to make sure that you and baby are okay.” The nurse declares, “so let’s get you comfortable and we will keep checking on you. Do you have a birth plan?” The nurse asks.

“Yes. I wanted to do it naturally.” Monica says, knowing that she had planned that from the moment she found out. The nurse nods.

A few moments later, Frankie returns with Monica’s bag, setting it down on the table. He is sweating, nervous and scared for what is going to happen. “Is everything okay?” He asks the nurse, his heart pounding.

She nods, patting Monica’s thigh gently and draping the sheet over her legs. “Everything is looking good, I’m just going to insert an IV in mom’s arm.” She explains before she moves around to the medical cart. “Although, if you change your mind and want an epidural, you will be able to have one soon. But you can’t wait until your crowning and change your mind. It’ll be too late.”

Monica nods, “I want to do it naturally.” She is adamant, wincing when the nurse inserts the IV.

Frankie is unsure of what to do, no one seems to be worried that this baby is going to be nearly three months early. “Are you not worried?” He asks Monica after the nurse leaves.

“No.” She pants out honestly. “I was early.” It’s true, she had been early, even though that isn’t the case now. “I- if we have a boy, do you-“ She cries out, gripping the edge of the bed and grunts her way through another contraction. Sighing and relaxing against the bed once the pain has passed. “Do you want to name him Francisco Jr. if it’s a boy?” She asks, hoping that it will distract him from worrying about the time. She had been hoping she would be late to deliver the baby.

Frankie knows he should continue the tradition from his father and grandfather but he just prays that the baby is healthy. “Yes. I’d love that.” He leans closer to kiss her forehead. She didn’t find out the gender, deciding they’d have a gender reveal party once he got back but clearly that idea is dead. “Do you need anything sweetheart? Ice chips? Your phone?” He asks her.

“I- I would love some ice chips.” She confesses. “Would you bring me my phone and get some?” Now that she’s in labor, she doesn’t need to stay angry at Frankie, he feels guilty and that’s good enough for right now. Once the baby is born and he signs the birth certificate, she can go back to being angry at him. Including telling him that you will never be allowed near him again.

Frankie nods, grabbing her phone and handing it to her before he leaves the room to hunt down some ice chips. He needs to call Pope too. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he dials his best friend.

****

You laugh at the story Benny is telling about Pope getting slapped by one of the nurses after he told her a dirty joke when the phone rings. Pope frowns, picking up his cell phone. “Hey Fish. What’s up? She’s what? Now? But I thought - she’s early. Shit. Do you want us there?

I - okay. Okay man. Keep me posted. Yeah. Yeah. Tell Monica we said good luck.” He hangs up the phone and looks at the group, all sitting around the table as the crowd at the bar dissipates. “Monica. She’s gone into labor. They’re at the hospital now.” Pope declares and Benny frowns.

“I thought she wasn’t due for another two months or so?” Will tilts his head.

“Apparently she’s early.” Pope says, biting his lower lip as he looks at you. You are staring at the worn coaster on the table, trying to stop the tears from forming. Frankie is going to be a father tonight.

****

Frankie comes back into the room, a large cup full of ice chips from the nurse’s station. Monica is panting, scrolling through her phone and letting family know that she’s in labor. No one lives nearby, so she doesn’t expect anyone to show up. “Here, baby.” Frankie comes over and kisses her forehead before setting the cup down on the rolling tray. “I know it’s shitty, but they want you to have ice instead of water.”

The time passes slowly, Frankie is exhausted. He hasn’t slept since his layover in Germany but he can’t sleep. Thinking about how much his life is gonna change. Monica’s contractions are getting closer together and finally the doctor comes in after it’s announced that it’s time to push. Frankie holds Monica’s hand as she screams, hissing at how tight she grips his hand as she pushes, her nails digging into his flesh.

Monica slumps back against the raised back of the delivery bed. “I can’t do this.” She cries. “I can’t.” Frankie leans over, kissing her forehead again and only wishes once that it was you laying there about to deliver his baby. He pushes the thought away and focuses on his wife.

“You can do it. I know you can.” He promises.

“Almost mama, the baby is crowning beautifully, once more push and the head will be out.” The doctor announces, watching the monitor start to go crazy when another large contraction starts. “Need you to push!”

“You can do it, baby. You can do it. Come on, push.” Frankie orders, brushing Monica’s hair back out of her face. She screams through clenched teeth, sweat beading on her brow.

“The head is out. Okay mama so on the next contraction, I need you to push.” The doctor orders and Frankie is certain Monica’s scream echoes down the hallway so the entire maternity unit can hear her. A few moments later, a baby’s cry fills the room and Frankie chokes on his breath.

The doctor quickly clears the airways and puts the baby on Monica’s chest. “You have a beautifully healthy baby boy.” The doctor comments as the umbilical cord is clamped off. “At least ten pounds, but we’ll find out for sure as soon as we weigh him.”

Frankie frowns, looking at the baby placed on his wife’s chest. He was planning to read baby books upon his arrival home but even he knows that a premature baby is not ten pounds. Also, he looks down at the crying baby and sees he has a different nose. It’s not his signature nose, or Monica’s nose. “Monica…” He trails off, beyond confused.

Monica doesn’t even pay attention to Frankie, too busy staring at her son, tears in her eyes from both the pain of childbirth and the awe inspiring feeling of holding the baby that had been growing inside her for nine months. “Oh my god, look at you.” She coos, touching fingers and toes. “You are gorgeous, are you?“ The baby stops crying when she kisses his wrinkled forehead and the nurse comes over to take him to weigh and measure.

Frankie watches the nurse take the baby away and he turns to look at his wife. “Monica. Look at me.” He orders, needing his answers now. “Premature babies aren’t ten pounds. You need to explain. Now.” He demands, his hands shaking. “Please. I need you to explain.”

Monica bites her lip, tempted to try to convince him that it was just a big baby. But his eyes are wary and she knows he won’t believe it. “I was due next week.” She confesses softly, aware that he will be able to do the math and figure out that she got pregnant while he was still deployed the first time. “Baby- I-“

Frankie shakes his head, immediately doing the math and it doesn’t add up. “Who’s baby is this?” He asks, his voice low and dark. He barely restrains himself. He married her because she got pregnant and now he’s finding out she wasn’t pregnant with his baby.

“You don’t know him.” She assures Frankie, feeling her eyes start to water when she realizes how angry he looks. “He doesn’t matter, he wasn’t what I wanted and it was a mistake. I love you, Frankie. I wanted you, us, our baby.” She whimpers, not admitting that the jerk who had gotten her pregnant had ghosted her after she told him. Which was the week before Frankie got home for his surgery.

Frankie feels like screaming. He married a woman he doesn’t love because she told him she was pregnant with his baby. He let you slip through his fingers because of Monica and he wants to scream and cry. “It’s not our baby. It’s your baby. I- I can’t - how could you do this? I married you because you told me you were pregnant. You knew it wasn’t mine and you- you stopped me from - fuck. You just wanted me to marry you for the benefits. You fucking conned me.” He growls, unable to stop himself.

“No!” Monica shakes her head, tears sliding down her face. “No, I love you.” She promises. “I was going to tell you.I was. I had planned to tell you after I told you I was pregnant and then you were insisting that you propose and we get married.” She sobs. “I just - I was scared and didn’t want you to leave me too.”

Frankie clenches his jaw, tears in his eyes as he looks at Monica. “Tell me one thing.” He orders, “was it a one night stand or did you love him?” It doesn’t make a difference but he needs to know.

Her lower lip trembles and she knows she can’t lie to him about this. Knows that she’s already screwed everything up and he’s going to leave her. “I- I had been seeing him for a year.” She admits. “I loved him too. But I love you, Frankie.” She promises. “I really do.”

Frankie shakes his head, “no. No. You don’t lie to the people you love. Not like that. You should’ve told me. I- I lost out on an opportunity with-” He cuts himself off.

“That stupid little girl?” Monica scoffs, making Frankie narrow his eyes.

“She’s not a stupid little girl and she has more integrity than you. I can’t do this, Monica. I can’t be with you and raise another man’s child. You lied to me. I can’t forgive that. I’m sorry. I can’t - it’s over.” He chokes, wiping his eyes to stop himself from crying. He’s not going to break down yet.

Monica narrows her eyes at Frankie. “Fine.” She spits. “You didn’t love me anyway, and I-“ she chokes up, her own tears spilling down her cheeks and her anger drains away. “It was always her, wasn’t it?” She asks sadly, looking up at the man who was technically her husband but they had never really lived together as such. Frankie thanks God he didn’t give her a general power of attorney while he was gone those months.

“Yes.” He whispers, finally admitting it. Frankie swallows the lump in his throat, “I, uh, you can stay in the house until we get the divorce finalized. I don’t - I’m not a monster to make you leave after you’ve just had a baby. I’ll go get my things and I’m gonna stay with Pope.” He reasons, unsure of what to do right now. He’s just confused and in shock. “Good luck Monica. You’ll need it.” He says, stepping away from her and grabbing his things before he goes outside and orders a taxi to take him to his usual bar. He needs a fucking drink.

****

You are worried about Frankie, he hasn’t called and you are sad that tonight, his family will be complete and you’ll still be pining for him. As you pick up your beer, you mourn the death of your dreams, and take a gulp while Benny rattles on about some op they were involved in. That’s when you see him. Frankie stumbles into the bar, duffel bag over his shoulder and he drops it onto the floor by your table while the group stare at him. “Hey man. Uh, aren’t - aren’t you supposed to be at the hospital?” Pope asks, a frown on his face.

Frankie reaches out, grabbing Benny’s beer and tilts it back, gulping it down like a man dying of thirst. When he slams it back down on the table, he sighs, glancing up and then back down at the table. The wound is still incredibly raw and he’s almost afraid he’s going to cry again. “I- uh, the baby-“ he chokes out, making Benny reach over and clasp his shoulder and the other men get a grim look on their faces, expecting the worst. “The baby is full term. He-he’s not mine.”

To say your jaw drops is an understatement. You had your suspicions when you saw her earlier, no way she was nearly seven months pregnant with that big bump. You can see the pain in Frankie’s eyes and you just want to pull him close and hug him. “Wow. I- shit. Im so sorry, Fish.” Benny says while everyone else processes the news.

“You want a drink? I’ll get you a drink.” Pope says, calling the waitress over for another round plus shots.

“I need a place to stay.” Frankie scrubs his face with his hand. “I’m letting her stay in housing until the divorce, but I can’t stay there.” He’s gone from being married and having a baby to single in a matter of hours. “I can’t believe she tried to pass another man’s kid off as mine. It’s the reason I married her.”

Pope sighs, knowing how insanely hard this must be on Frankie, to be deceived like this. “I would love to have you man but be warned, I haven’t been laid in a while. I’m gonna be catching up.” He confesses, not wanting Frankie to be subjected to the sounds of sex every night.

Frankie sighs, knowing he has no other choice. Benny looks at Will who nods, “you can stay with us. Save you from the sex noises. You know Will won’t be getting laid.” Benny teases, making Will roll his eyes.

Frankie gives a small chuckle. “Not like you’re going to be getting your dick wet.” He scoffs playfully. He isn’t even going to tell them about his other fuck up. That’s too raw and they would beat the shit out of him for thinking about their sister that way.

Benny huffs, pointing at the waitress that had been flirting with him all night. “I’m going home with that one tonight.” He boasts.

You wrinkle your nose, “thank God I have my own place now.” You want to talk to Frankie, give him a shoulder to cry on, but you know that will only hurt you in the long run. Your phone dings with a text and you pick it up. Sighing when you see it’s Brad asking if you want to “hang out” tonight. He hasn’t pushed you for more but you can tell he wants to date you. You aren’t sure what you want, especially with this new revelation that Frankie isn’t the father and he’s divorcing Monica. Still, that doesn’t mean he loves you too. He loved Monica.

“Boyfriend chasing you up?” Pope teases. You set your phone down, clearing your throat.

“When are we going to meet this Brad guy?” Will grumbles and you avoid looking at Frankie when you say, “Frankie has seen him.”

Frankie frowns, looking over to you to confirm and you nod. “The bar?” You prompt, making his eyes widen. “Blondie?” He huffs, heart falling when he realizes that because of Monica he has once again missed out on being with you. “You’re really with him?” The waitress brings back the drinks and Frankie immediately grabs his shot and tosses it back, wincing at the burn.

“Well…not technically. I’m not dating him. It’s just…casual.” You shrug, making your brothers frown at that.

“We need to meet him.” They tell you, speaking at the same time and you shake your head, “no you don’t. It’s not serious.” You look back at Frankie who seems even more deflated than before, no doubt the reality of what happened tonight hitting him.

“But you want it to be?” Pope asks, confused since he knows the truth.

“No. No. He wants - he wants more than I can give him. Emotionally.” You say, your eyes drifting back to Frankie. “Besides, you’re focusing on me when we should be focusing on Frankie.”

“No, please, focus on your sister instead of the dumbass who married a woman he didn’t love because he thought she was pregnant with his baby.” Frankie mutters, shaking his head and gulping down half his beer. “I felt guilty too.” He confesses, glancing at you before he looks away. “That I didn’t love her like I should have.”

You swallow your beer, wondering what he means by that. “It will be okay. At least you found out now instead of further down the line when you were a father to the baby. That would’ve been cruel. It will be okay.” Pope promises Frankie, reaching out to rub his back. You know that tonight, you’ll be finishing with Brad. You still love Frankie and you don’t think that is ever going to change.

The conversation turns around him, drifting away while Frankie finishes his beer and orders another. It was good to know now, Pope was right. Better to know before he got attached to the kid. He sighs and rubs his eyes, exhausted from the entire day. Coming home, Monica going into labor, finding out that he wasn’t the father, all crashing down on him. He stumbles to his feet, unsteady from the day. “Gotta piss.” He mumbles, wandering off to the bathroom.

You watch Frankie go, all of you frowning as you wonder what will happen to him as he processes what has happened to him. You feel so fucking guilty but you are secretly glad this happened. God, you are a terrible person, but you didn’t think Monica was the right woman for him. Even if that woman isn’t you, he deserves better.

Frankie comes back, looking at the beer that he had ordered and doesn’t even want now. Digging in his pockets, he pulls out cash to pay. “Can I get a key?” He asks Will. “I’m just going to bring the mood down and I’m exhausted.” He sighs and glances over at you, wishing he could get a hug or something from you. It sucks that there’s been this wall between the two of you since he got married. You didn’t seem to want to be around him anymore.

Will nods, handing Frankie his keys so he can get into the house. “Alarm is Benny’s birthday since he forgets it.” Will murmurs, making Benny roll his eyes.

Frankie sets the cash down and takes the keys, thanking Will. “I’ll see you soon.” He promises the guys, knowing he needs some space to progress everything. The guys bid him goodbye and you watch him leave the bar.

“I’ll be back.” You tell him, rushing after him. “Frankie,” You call out. He turns around to look at you and you rush up to wrap your arms around him. “I’m so sorry.” You whisper, knowing how hard this must be.

He clings to you, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tight. Sighing softly and leaning his cheek against the side of your head. “I just- I tried to do the right thing.” He chokes out. “She wanted to name him Francisco Jr.” He still can’t believe that she would go so far to try to convince him that it wasn’t his child. That was probably what hurt the most, she knew. She knew that child wasn’t his and she used him to make sure that she wasn’t alone.

You want to go to the hospital and slap Monica for trying to deceive Frankie like this. “I’m so sorry Frankie. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve this.” You pull back and cup his cheeks, “you deserve the best. You deserve to be happy.” You tell him, offering him a watery smile when you know that isn’t with you.

“I think it might be too late for that.” Frankie’s overwrought and emotional but he still thinks you are gorgeous. He burrows into your hand slightly, enjoying the feeling of your touch before he turns his head and ghosts a kiss on your palm. “Thank you.” He murmurs, pulling away before he does something stupid. “I-I should go. You probably have plans to meet your boyfriend.”

You sigh, stepping away from Frankie. Your entire body feels on fire just from being so close and the ghost of a kiss on your palm nearly made your heart burst out of your chest. You nod, stepping away from him, and you know you need to see Brad and tell him it’s over. You can’t continue leading him on when Frankie still has your heart, and will likely always have it.

Frankie smiles, just a half of one, pulling his dimple out but his eyes are dark and sad. “Have a good night.” He murmurs softly, turning to where a line of taxis are waiting since he had Ubered here. He’ll get his truck from the house tomorrow. For now, he just needs to get some sleep.

****

It’s been months since you saw Frankie. That night at the bar being the last time. Before you could finish things with Brad, he had signed up for another deployment, pulled some strings, and left. The boys followed soon after, unable to let him go alone, and you have been worried sick. Worried that they would make a mistake or fuck up because they didn’t have enough time at home. You email your brothers daily, wanting to check in, and you also email Frankie.

You hear the ding and your eyes widen, opening the email from Frankie. He tells you that he’s trying to finalize the divorce and you bite your lip, unsure if you should tell him about your news. You haven’t told Benny or Will yet but Frankie has always been a dear friend and he might be able to help you navigate your protective brothers. “Can you video chat?” You email Frankie, wondering if he can Skype.

Frankie grins, looking around at the other guys in the comm tent before he opens Skype and hits your number. It’s not like you had video chatted with him, but he had your info from your brothers.

“Hey.” You smile when he appears on screen after you accept the video call. You definitely didn’t check your hair before you answered. Definitely not.

“So…what’s the big news?” Frankie asks hesitantly, not a fan of big news nowadays.

You bite your lip, raising your hand to show him the ring on your left finger. “Brad proposed!” You say, trying to sound excited.

Frankie stares at the ring for a second in shock. Seconds ticking by and his heart falling out of his chest and landing at his feet. He blows out a breath and tries to compose himself. “That-that’s great.” He offers hoarsely, wanting to scream about how fucking unfair it is. “Congratulations. Are you going to let your brothers meet him before the wedding?” He teases, chuckling slightly to cover how shaky his voice is.

You bite your lip, “God, they are gonna kill him.” You are nervous, unsure of your decision to say yes but if Frankie hasn’t made any kind of indication that he wants you in the past years, then what can you do? You’re getting older and you don’t want to be alone forever so you decided to accept Brad’s proposal. You hope Frankie will be happy for you, maybe he can help you feel happier about the decision. You’d planned to dump Brad the night Frankie came back but you didn’t, too selfish you suppose. You didn’t want to be alone.

“If he’s what you want, I won’t let them hurt him too badly.” Frankie has to swallow down his pride, his own feelings and put you first. It doesn’t matter that he had planned on asking you out when he got back. He was too late again. “All I want is for you to be happy, baby.” He murmurs, not even realizing he voiced a nickname he’s never said aloud to you before.

The nickname makes your heart thumping and your chest hurts, you want him to be angry, tell you to give the ring back. “Yeah…” You nod, unsure yourself if you’re really that happy. “He’s…he’s good for me. I- I need to grow up.” You tell him, feeling your eyes sting.

Frankie frowns, not likening the way you talk about yourself. He shuffles and leans forward in his seat, getting closer to the camera. “You listen to me.” He tells you firmly. “You don’t need to do anything but be exactly who you are. You’re perfect and if that asshole can’t see that, I don’t think you should marry him.” Is it wrong of him to try to make you doubt it? Absolutely. But he also is human and wants to make sure you don’t make the same mistake he did.

Your heart pounds, looking into his dark eyes as he stares at you through the camera. “I- I have to. He asked and I accepted and he - he makes me happy.” You tell him, not lying. Brad does make you happy, he distracts you from thinking about Frankie. “I’m happy.” You try to convince Frankie, part of you hoping he will protest and tell you not to marry him. “We won’t get married until you are all back.”

He knows you think the small sigh he makes is relief, but it’s disappointment. “You better.” He teases. “Benny would have a stroke and Will would start counting the number of ways he can hide Brad’s body.”

You chuckle, “hopefully it doesn’t come to that when I tell them.” You wonder if Benny and Will would react the same way if it was Frankie you were engaged. “How’s things over there?” You ask him. He catches you up before the timer for his allotted time goes off. “I’ll talk to you soon Frankie.” You smile sadly, missing him and knowing you shouldn’t miss him all at the same time.

****

Frankie sighs as the plane's wheels touch down. This time there’s nothing to look forward to. You will be there, of course, but he doesn’t know if he wants to see the ring on your finger again. It’s selfish but he wants to pretend for just a little longer that you are still capable of being his. “I can’t wait to get home.” Benny moans, looking back from his seat at Frankie. “Don’t goddamn leave again.” He glowers at his friend playfully.

Frankie rolls his eyes. “Didn’t they tell us we are mandatory stateside for at least eight months?” He snarks back “Maybe you can get laid in that amount of time.”

Benny chuckles, “at least one of us will be getting some.”

Frankie snorts, knowing he’s not ready to get involved in anything right now. Not when he’s got to watch you get married to Brad. Ugh, even his name is terrible. He knows this is karma for him making you watch him marry Monica but he wanted you there that day, it allowed him to think he was marrying you instead. Stupid fantasy.

“Finally we get to meet this Brad douchebag.” Benny says, cracking his knuckles as the plane comes to a stop and everyone grabs their bags.

“Don’t run him off, Ben.” Frankie murmurs seriously. “Your sister deserves to be happy.”

Benny huffs, offended that he would say that and shakes his head. “If I can run him off, then he wasn’t good enough for her to begin with.” He says as they shuffle through the door. Frankie winces in the bright sunlight and starts looking around for you as he follows behind the Miller brothers, bringing up the rear and honestly trying to avoid this bleak homecoming.

You stand there, rocking on your heels as you search for your brothers…and Frankie. Brad insisted on coming, wanting to greet your brothers and introduce himself. You aren’t sure if it’s the best idea but you didn’t deny him, knowing he’s gonna have to meet them eventually. “Hey trouble.” Benny greets you, rushing up to hug you and you are so glad they are both okay and alive. Brad stands awkwardly to the side of you as Frankie approaches.

“Don’t smother her.” Will huffs, deciding to turn to Brad and extend his hand. “Will.” He offers, making sure that his grip is slightly firmer than it needs to be. You are his baby sister even if you aren’t blood related.

Frankie waits until Benny lets go of you and sends you a smile. “Hey.” He wants to hug you but it’s a little awkward, leaning instead of dragging you against him like he wants to. “It’s good to see you.” He murmurs in your ear. “Missed you.”

You hate how your heart lurches and you realize you still love him. You smile, “I missed you too.” You rub his arm and step back towards Brad. “So, uh, this is Brad.”

Your fiancé is like an eager puppy, desperate to please and impress. “Hey. It’s so great to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” Brad reaches out to shake Frankie’s hand.

God, he wants to hate him. He really does, his own hand reluctant as he grips the hand of the man who has you. He nods. “Francisco.” He tells him, sure that his nicknames will come out eventually. He doesn’t squeeze his hand, instead he just keeps his eyes on Brad’s steadily. Making sure the man knows that he’s not overlooking a thing.

Your eyes flick between Brad and Frankie, unsure if you want them to get along or not. “We will have to get a beer sometime, you can tell me some stories about this one. She’s so closed off sometimes.” Brad says as he steps back to wrap his arm around your waist.

“Anyway. I’m sure the fellas will want to get settled.” You say, glad the awkward moment is over. “Where’s Pope?” You ask, looking behind them to see Tom already greeting Molly and the girls.

“He’s meeting Martha. The girl who has been sending him Polaroids.” Will chuckles, looking over his shoulder to see Pope kissing a woman.

“On that note, let’s get you guys home.” You chuckle, rubbing Brad’s chest. Your brothers nod and Frankie trails behind you as you walk towards the parking lot. He doesn’t know how he’s going to handle this when he sees Brad’s hand shift lower to the top of your ass.

Frankie sighs, reaching up and rubbing his cheek. This week Monica is moving out of the house on base and he has to make sure that everything is clean so he doesn’t get charged for everything. He reaches out and touches your shoulder, making you turn and Brad’s hand falls away from your ass. Something that makes Frankie very happy. “I hate to ask you a favor.” He huffs, tilting his head. “Would you help me do a walk through of the house later this week, make sure I don’t miss anything?” He asks you. “I have to turn the keys over as soon as possible so I can get a room in the Bachelor’s quarters.”

You nod, offering him a soft smile, and you wish you could pull him close and thank God that he’s still alive and unharmed. “Come on baby, let’s go. I’m sure the fellas want some drinks and some sleep.” Brad says, distracting you from Frankie’s dark eyes that burn into yours. You offer Brad a smile, once again reminded of your lack of intense love for him but you promised to marry him, and you can’t break that promise on a maybe with Frankie.

He wishes you would smile at him like that, and be going home with him. He knows that you would already be halfway there if he was with you, eager to get you alone and kiss you, touch you. His cock twitches at the thought and he sighs. “Yeah.” He agrees, turning towards Will’s truck you had brought for them to drive back. “Sleep.” He looks at you again. “See you later.”

****

You have been avoiding Frankie since he got back, terrified of changing your mind about marrying Brad. You feel awful but you are scared to end up alone, missing out on a family of your own because you are still pining after Frankie. You love Brad, in your own way, and you know he’s going to be a good husband. You have picked everything out for the wedding and now it’s time. You didn’t want anyone around you the night before the wedding, especially after talking to Brad earlier. You hadn’t want to live with Brad until after you were married, despite his insistence, and you pretended it’s because you wanted to be traditional. He accepted that but really, you needed the space to come to terms with your decision.

Frankie shuffles, having stood outside your apartment door for nearly twenty minutes. He’s honestly surprised no one has called the cops on him. He can’t do this. He can’t watch you marry this asshole. Even if Brad isn’t an asshole. He’s been out with him and your brothers a few times. ‘Bonding time’ as you insisted on calling it, even if you weren’t there. He’s barely seen you and he’s going crazy. Huffing, he reaches out and knocks on the door before he can stop himself again, telling himself he’s just checking up on you and he’s not trying to stop your wedding.

You set your glass of wine down, pausing the tv from whatever horror movie was playing to try and distract yourself, and you swallow harshly when you look through the peephole and see Frankie. Unlocking the door and opening it, your heart flutters in your chest when you see him. “Hey.” You greet him softly, wondering what he wants at this hour.

“Hey.” He exhales when he sees you, heart pounding and his hands are suddenly fucking damp. Him. The man who can fly a chopper under hostile fire without breaking a sweat is about to pass out from nerves. “Can I come in?” He asks, not wanting to have this conversation out on your step. If he’s wrong, if you don’t think of him as anything more than a friend, he can loose you and it terrifies him.

You nod, stomach twisting as he steps into your apartment and you guide him towards the sofa. “You want something to drink? Coffee? Beer? Wine?” You ask, watching him rub his hands on his jeans as he sits down on your sofa. “Beer would be good.” He says, knowing he likely won’t drink it but he might need a sip. You grab him a beer and set it down on the coffee table in front of him. “Are you okay?” You ask, noticing how tense he seems.

“Yeah.” He breathes out before he wipes his hands on his pants and looks at you, swallowing harshly. “No.” He admits, lunging for the beer and taking that sip before he sets it back down. “I’m not coming tomorrow.” He announces, blurting out that instead of casually asking if you are sure this is what you want. “I can’t.”

You frown, “why not?” You are confused, unable to stop yourself from reaching for his hand. “Frankie. I- I don’t understand. Do you- is there - why?” You ask breathlessly, feeling your chest tighten at the thought of not having him there to support you.

Now that he’s said it, there’s no way he can’t tell you. He lurches to his feet and starts to pace in front of the coffee table, feeling like his heart is about to rip out of his chest. “I can’t. I just- it’s wrong I know it.” He rambles, not even looking at you. He can’t right now. “I know you were there for me when I married Monica but it’s different.” He blows out.

“How?” You demand but he just keeps going.

“They’ll kill me, but it’s not like I could help it. You’re- you’re you. How could I not?” He asks, stopping and staring at you for a second before he starts pacing again. “I know you don’t love me and that’s fine. I get it, I’m too old for you. But you can’t expect me to watch you marry some other guy when all I want is for it to be me up there with you.” He finishes breathlessly, turning to look you in the eyes when you tell him you don’t feel the same way. “I can’t. I can’t watch the woman I love marry another man.”

You stare at him, shock surging through your body and you can’t move for a few moments. Then you get angry. “Are you serious? You- you made me watch you marry Monica, made me watch her - I thought she was pregnant with your baby. I had to watch her - her make a home for you both. For your family.” Your chest heaves as you stand up. “I- I was there for you despite my heart fucking breaking because the man I’ve been in love with since I was seventeen was marrying another woman. I - you drive me crazy. I can’t keep away from you despite it killing me every time I see you because I can’t - I can’t be with you. All you’ll ever see is that awkward seventeen year old. You- I love you. I love you. I just- how dare you say that now when I- when I am just trying to move on from you.” You choke, stepping closer and slapping his chest.

Frankie captures your hand, holding it against his chest, letting you feel how hard his heart is hammering underneath it. “Not see you as anything but an awkward seventeen year old?” He shakes his head. “I’ve wanted you since you were - fuck, you were nineteen went I realized that you were a full fucking grown woman that I seriously wanted to take to bed. Twenty when I realized I was in love with you” He admits. “I just- you’re my friends - my brother’s sister.” He murmurs. “I never wanted you to be - I didn’t think…”

He takes another deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have done this to you.” He shakes his head again and lets go of your hand. “I’m always too fucking late.” He chuckles. “You are dating someone, or I am, or the bullshit with Monica.” He closes his eyes and nods before he opens them, devastation in them but he opens his mouth. “I- I’ll be there.” He promises you, knowing that he owes you that. “If you really want to marry this man, I’ll be there and I won’t say a word. But, if he’s not what you want….”

You shake your head. “The wedding is off. I- I spoke to him about an hour ago. I - I met him at the bar and explained that I couldn’t marry him because I’m in love with you. He knew - he knew that he could never have my whole heart, that it belonged to you. He obviously wasn’t happy but I- I couldn’t stand there and marry him and pretended - pretend like my heart, my body, my soul belongs to you. I love you Frankie. It’s always been you.” You confess.

Relief floods his entire body, making him feel almost lightheaded. He doesn’t even think, doesn’t try to stop himself. Surging forward to grab your waist and cup the back of your head, his lips slot desperately over yours. Needing to taste you and kiss you. He’s needed to for so long but right now he has to. Make sure that he’s not dreaming this. He moans when you respond, your hands racing up to grip his back and he shudders when your mouth eagerly opens so he can deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue inside your mouth to touch yours possessively.

Your body both relaxes and lights up, your tongue tangling with his as you press yourself up against him with a moan. It’s intense and it feels so damn right. You tangle your fingers in his hair, unable to get close enough to him now that you know he loves you.

Frankie groans, loving how quickly you are melting in his arms, turning and starting to shuffle you back towards the couch. Kissing you for another moment before he breaks away to kiss along your jaw. “I- baby- we need to-” He tries to talk while kissing you, sliding a hand around to squeeze your ass and moaning again at the feel of your body in his hands. “Hang on.” He pulls away, panting and trying to calm himself down. “It’s done? You’re done with Brad?” He asks, needing to make sure.

You nod, your chest heaving. “It’s over. I gave him back the ring. We are done.” You promise, looking into his eyes. You wouldn’t lie to him and you couldn’t lie to yourself. It wasn’t what you wanted, Brad wasn’t what you wanted and you came to the decision that you’d rather be alone than be with a man you only sort of love. It was wrong of you to accept the proposal but you never lied to Brad about your feelings. You grab onto Frankie’s shoulder, desperate for him as you push him down onto the sofa and straddle him. “It’s over.” You vow, leaning forward to kiss Frankie’s jaw.

“Fuck.” He shudders, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you down against his hard cock. Grinding up against your soft, hot core through your sleep shorts and his jeans. He can feel the heat and he thinks he might die if you don’t let him touch you. “Baby, let me take you to bed.” He begs, wanting nothing more than to sink into you, make you his. He slides his hands under your shirt and caresses your back. “Let me make love to you.”

You whine, unable to believe this is happening after thinking about it for so many years. “Yes. Yes. Please Frankie. I- I need you.” You beg, reluctantly getting out of his grip so you can stand. You reach for Frankie’s hand and he stands up so you can guide him down the hall to your bedroom. You exhale shakily, heart fluttering as you stand in front of Frankie in the dim light of your bedroom. Your eyes meet his and you reach for the hem of his shirt, needing it off of his body.

LIfting his arms, he helps you take off his shirt, unable to believe that this is finally happening. “I- uh, I haven’t had sex with anyone since…” He blows out a breath. “Since Monica.” He tells you, lifting his brows earnestly. “I’m clean. Tested after I found out.” He had been a little fucking annoyed about having to go get tested, having lectured several younger soldiers about STDs when they had come to him about their shit burning when they pee. He flicks the button of his jeans open and takes out his wallet. “But I have a condom if you want.”

You shake your head, “it’s up to you baby. I - I haven’t had sex with Brad for a while and I- we always used condoms. Told him I didn’t want to get pregnant even if I’m on birth control. I am clean and I want to feel you. Every inch of you.” You tell him, pulling your shirt over your head to expose your tits.

“Fuck.” He tosses his wallet down and reaches up to cup both of your tits in his hands. “You know how many times I’ve wanted to see these?” He moans, brushing his thumbs over your stiff nipples and squeezing them. “Suck on them and see if you liked that?” He watches you as he ducks his head and wraps his lips around a nipple.

You gasp, a moan escaping your lips as he eagerly sucks on your nipple before he switches over to the other one. “Fuck baby. I- I’ve imagined this way too many times. Especially seeing you in uniform. God, wanted you to fuck me wearing your uniform.” Your deepest fantasies are spilling out of you now as you caress his back.

He groans, kissing the top of your breast and up your chest as he stands back up, sliding his hands around your body to push your shorts down. “I will.” He promises, finding your lips again and pecking them again hungrily. “Gonna fuck you every way you want.” He huffs out, hating to let go of you so he can start pushing his own jeans down his hips.

You watch him as he pushes his jeans down along with his boxers, and you kick your shorts aside as you inhale sharply at the girth and size of his cock. “Fuck me. How - God, you - wow.” You exhale, unable to stop yourself from reaching out to wrap your fingers around his cock to feel how thick he is.

“Shit.” He hisses at the feeling of you touching him. Closing his eyes and rocking his hips forward into your grip. It’s been so fucking long since he’s been with someone. The day his marriage fell apart, and you are the woman he’s always dreamed of. “Fuck, fuck…” He bats your hand away and shakes his head. “I’m not going to last if you touch me, baby.” He confesses. “I want you too much.”

“It’s okay. I don’t care. I just want to feel you.” You tell him, letting go of his cock and you step closer to wrap your arms around his neck, dragging him down for a kiss as you press yourself against him and trap his cock between you so it’s pressed against your stomach. You walk backwards towards your bed, needing to feel more of him.

He feels when your body falls back, dragging him with you. His arms come out from around you, bracing on the bed so he doesn’t hurt you. Staying as close as possible while cushioning his weight off you. It’s intoxicating how quickly your legs open for him, wrapping around his waist and he thanks God you haven't been wearing underwear. HIs cock sliding down to press against your cunt and he rolls his hips forward, groaning against your lips while he reaches between you and lines up, quickly pushing inside of you a few inches.

You hiss at the stretch, wet but not wet enough to take Frankie’s impressive girth. “Shit. Frankie. I- give me a second. You’re - you’re so thick. It - it stings. Hang on.” You rasp, wishing you could just take him fully inside of you but his impressive cock is stretching you.

Frankie freezes, pulling out of you quickly and shuffling down your body. “Wait-” He shakes his head and spreads your legs wider, settling between them. “Should have done this first.” He tells you, leaning in and sliding his tongue through your folds. He doesn’t care that he’s having to wait to be inside you, he wants you to enjoy every second of him inside you. Slightly cocky because of you needing a moment. “Cum on my tongue first, baby.”

You cry out when his tongue flicks over your clit, intense and honestly the best feeling you’ve ever felt. No one has made you feel like this. You reach down to tangle your fingers through his hair as he laps at your clit. “God baby. It’s - it’s good. Just need - suck on my clit. I need more.” You order, wanting him to know what you like.

He shifts, obeying your order quickly and huffing into your cunt when you give him a loud moan. He loves that sound, pretty and pleading as it comes out of your throat. Making his cock leak into your sheets and he knows that you are just going to be perfect when you cum. He sucks, lets go to nibble and lick before he sucks again, groaning when you pull on his hair, dark eyes watching your face.

Your hips rock up into his face, unable to stop yourself as he makes you feel better than you have in years. “Fuckkkk Frankie. Feels so - so fucking good baby.” Your chin comes down to rest on your chest, watching him as he watches you, his jaw stretched wide so he can access every inch of your cunt. “Fingers. Need your fingers to stretch me out.” You plead, reaching for his hand to grab onto.

He grunts, lacing the fingers of his one hand with yours while he moves to wet his others with your slick. Slowly pushing them inside you gently and groaning at how tight you are. No wonder you had stopped him. His cock twitches but he ignores it, concentrates on making you feel good and get you ready to take him.

Your walls flutter around his fingers when he resumes sucking on your clit and you are poised to cum. “Shit, Frankie. Yes. Yes. Gonna - gonna cum.” You cry, feeling that tension in your stomach as your thighs begin to shake.

He watches you carefully, needing you to cum for him. Needing to see and hear you, feel you come apart for him, because of him. He curls his fingers up and groans when your entire body tenses up, cock nearly exploding when he hears you cry out his name loud enough that your neighbors will hear. He wants them to hear.

Collapsing back against the bed, you pant as he works you through your orgasm and you swear it’s the best you’ve ever had. “Shit. Frankie. I- I need you.” You plead, reaching down to grab onto his shoulder, wanting him to come up to you.

He huffs, kissing up your body as he works his way up to press his lips to yours. “I love you.” He promises, settling over you again. He’s desperate to be inside you, but he doesn’t want to hurt you again. This time starting to press into you slowly.

Your mouth falls open as he pushes into you, making you sigh his name as the sting is gone, leaving only pleasure. Your hands grip his upper arms, your eyelashes flutter as you watch him while he pushes into you. When he is pressed against your cervix, you kiss his chin. "I love you, Francisco." You whisper, your heart feeling like it's gonna pound out of your chest.

“I love you, baby.” He pants out, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours while he just absorbs the feeling of you around him. It’s probably the best fucking thing he’s ever felt in his entire life. “God I love you, always loved you.” He promises, rocking his hips slowly to pull back. “You are amazing. Fuck you feel perfect.”

You cup his cheeks, keeping your eyes fixed on his as he rocks into you. Your legs wrap around his waist to lock your ankles together, keeping him as close as possible. “It’s always been you. Always you. Fuck, Frank. You feel so good.” You whimper.

It’s perfect. He can’t take his eyes off of you as he slowly works himself in and out of your body. Lasting longer than he thought it would, groaning everytime you clench around his length and makes his eyes flutter at how tight you are gripping him. “You - baby, fuck, you’re so good.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to yours again.

“Cum if you want. We have the rest of our lives to do this.” You smile, wanting to see him when he orgasms. “Cum for me baby. I want - I want to feel it.” You rock up to meet his thrusts, grinding up against him, your tits pressed against his chest.

“God.” He groans, his pace picking up to quick, hard thrusts. He can’t help it. You are his dream girl and he’s waited forever to have you. “Fuck- love you.” He pants out, hips faltering as he thrusts once more before burying his cock deep and groaning your name while he fills you up.

You caress his neck and shoulders as he stiffens above you. Making you moan his name as he paints your walls with his cum. The look on his face has you close to cumming but you just kiss his jaw, loving the way he groans your name as he rocks himself through his orgasm.

“Oh fuck.” He pants, his body relaxing and he leans down to kiss you again and again before he rolls off of you. “Fuck, you didn’t cum.” He pouts, looking over at you and turning to curl up against your side, sliding his hand down to your still spread legs. “You want to cum baby? Cum on my fingers? Or do you want to get a toy to help you cum?”

You turn to look at him, “I want you to fuck me with your fingers. I’m close, baby. Won’t take long.” You promise, moaning when his fingers push into you, his cum squelching as it drips onto your sheets. “Yessss.” You sigh, closing your eyes at how his thick fingers feel inside of you.

“Fuck, I’m going to live right here.” He coos, pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt and leaning in to kiss along your jaw. “I’m gonna just fuck you, make you cum as many times as I can. I want you to cum for me, baby.” He orders, wanting to see you cum again. To hear his name on your lips again.

You love hearing his words, unable to believe you are finally experiencing him like this. Your walls flutter around his fingers, close to an orgasm. “Frankie. Oh God. I’m gonna - I’m gonna-” You cry out, clamping down on his digits.

Brushing his nose against your cheek, he moans while you cum apart for him. He works you through it, keeping his fingers deep inside you, making sure that you are riding it out while he pushes against that spongy spot. “I love you.” He whispers, sighing softly and kissing your cheek.

You push his hand away, shifting to press your lips against his. "I love you. I can't stop saying it. I never - I never thought you felt the same way. Frankie...I want to spend the rest of my life with you. This isn't - I don't want to be your girlfriend for the next year. I want more. Not right now. But eventually, I want you to be my husband, the father of my children." You lay your cards out on the table, wanting him to know exactly how you feel.

Frankie sighs happily, smiling before he kisses you again. “I want that too.” He promises. “I - when I married Monica, I - I was wishing it was you.” He confesses. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know you thought of me as anything but your brother’s friend, as your friend.” He nudges his nose against yours. “I want to marry you too, when you’re ready. And have kids.”

You caress his cheek as you swing your leg over his hip, trying to get as close as possible. "I want to keep this between us for now. I know my brothers...they will think that I am rebounding after Brad and I want them to freak out as little as possible about us." You murmur, tracing his lips as his mustache tickles your fingertips.

Frankie frowns but he nods. He knows that your brothers would think that he was taking advantage of you when you were vulnerable no matter what he said. He sighs and reaches up to capture your hand and kisses your fingertips. “We announce it at your pace.” He promises you.

****

You carry the bowl of potato salad into the kitchen, wondering when Frankie is going to "arrive." You arrived at Benny and Will's cookout separately to not rouse suspicion. You set the potato salad down, glancing around as Martha - Pope's current girlfriend - fusses over the guacamole she bought over. "Hey trouble." Will greets you, kissing your cheek as he leans over your shoulder. You hear the doorbell ring and smirk as you realize that must be Frankie.

Benny opens the door, grinning happily. “There he is!” Your brother crows happily. “Did you finally drag yourself out of your mystery lady’s bed in order to join us?” He asks slyly, making Frankie grunt and roll his eyes. He has been asking, hinting about who Frankie has been spending time with. “You don’t live in the BOQ and you don’t live with any of us, so you must be shacked up with your hunny.” He throws his arm around Frankie as he teases him. “When are we going to meet this girl that has you smiling that silly ‘I just got laid’ grin?”

Frankie huffs and pushes Benny’s arm off of him. “Told you I’m just laying low.”

You bite your lip, trying to smother your own grin. You and Frankie have been so fucking happy. You don't think you've ever been happier, spending Sundays wrapped up in bed with him, cooking meals together, and the most intense sex you've ever had. No wonder he is grinning, you can't seem to stop your own smiles. "Leave Frankie alone. He's enjoying himself." You wink at Frankie as you stand beside Benny. "Hey Frankie." You say, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I am so wet for you baby." You quickly whisper in his ear, unable to help yourself when he looks so damn good in those jeans and that Standard Oil hat.

Frankie grunts, narrowing his eyes slightly at you when you pull away. “Hey squirt.” He’s taken to calling you annoying nicknames since the two of you had gotten together. “How are you?” He asks like he hadn’t just kissed you twenty minutes before when you left to go to your brother’s house. So far Benny and Will aren’t suspicious and you hadn’t wanted to rock the boat just yet, enjoying the honeymoon phase of the secret relationship.

"I'm good." You nod, trying not to act too giddy.

Benny huffs, "she's been in a good mood too. Ever since she dumped Brad and wasted a shit ton on a wedding that never happened, she's been practically intolerable. Well...more than normal." Benny teases, making you nudge him in the side.

"Come on man, I'll get you a beer. Tom and Pope are outside arguing over the best way to cook a goddamn steak." Will says, throwing his arm around Frankie's shoulders to guide him outside. “Even though we’re having burgers.”

"You do look happy." Molly comments, making you shrug.

"Just happy being by myself. I feel like I am finally where I belong." You half lie, making her hum before she walks over to Martha to help her carry the sides to the table set up outside.

Frankie takes the beer, watching with amusement as Tom and Pope bicker over the way to tell a steak is perfectly done. Pope insisted medium rare was correct, which it was. While Tom insisted that a well done steak was the only way to eat one. He shakes his head and takes a sip of his beer after Will hands it to him, laughing at the two men and glancing over as you step outside to grab your own beer out of the cooler. He can’t believe that he’s finally with the woman that he loves. All he needs is for you to tell your brothers and for them to not kill him and everything would be right in the world.

"So Fish...are you gonna spill the beans? Who's pussy has you grinning like you won the fucking lottery?" Tom asks as he flips one of the burgers. You are sitting down at the table with Molly and Martha, engaged in your own conversation.

Pope nods, "I haven't seen you since we got back, seems like you've been busy."

“Just taking some time for myself.” Frankie shrugs, taking another sip of his beer. “Happy I dodged a bullet with Monica and happy to be stateside for awhile.” He shuffles and looks around. “How are things with Martha?” He asks Pope, trying to change the subject

Pope grins, looking over at his girlfriend. “Really good. I- I know I’m usually a fuck and duck kind of guy but I like her. Not sure it’s love yet but she’s good for me.” You look over your shoulder as the men all glance over after Pope responded to the question and your eyes meet Frankie’s, deciding to stand up while everyone is outside and busy. You know he will know the look as you make your way inside the house.

He sets a timer in his head. Ninety seconds before he joins you. “You seem happy, man.” He acknowledges, ripping his head back to drain the rest of his beer. “You deserve it, she’s great.” That he’s being honest about. He does like Pope’s girlfriend and he wants his friend to be happy.

“Yes she is.” Pope agrees with a sappy grin.

Frankie tosses the bottle in the can set up and looks around. “I’m going to take a piss and grab another beer.” He offers before he turns and heads towards the house, eager to be alone with you again.

You are washing up some of the dishes for your brothers when Frankie wraps his arms around you. You set the clean bowl down, turn off the faucet and dry your hands as he kisses along your neck. You hum, tilting it before you spin in his arms, pressing your lips to his. “So dumb. Already miss you.” You murmur against his mouth, gripping his shirt in your fingers to keep him close as he presses you into the kitchen counter.

“You’re a fucking tease.” He complains, sliding his hands down and moving them up underneath the dress you are wearing. “Wearing this fucking dress. Telling me you're wet.” He growls and slides his fingers along the slick seam of your panties. “God, I love you.” He murmurs, rubbing your clit while he hisses along your jaw.

You gasp, moaning softly when his fingers dip under the elastic of your panties to discover how wet you are. “I- I can’t help it. You turn me on with just a look. When I - shit.” You hiss when he slowly rubs your clit, “when I saw you walk in with those jeans and that hat, I was soaking. You’re too fucking sexy Francisco Morales.” You giggle breathlessly, kissing his ear as he kisses along your jaw.

“You’re too sexy.” He groans, cock throbbing in his jeans as he slides his fingers inside you. Unable to resist fingering you in your brother’s kitchen because of how damn irresistible you are. “You want to cum on my fingers?” He coos in your ear. “Have me finger you while your brothers are outside?”

You bite your lip to smother your moan. “God, yes. Please Frankie. Baby, want you to make me cum on your fingers and then - then we are gonna go out there and act like nothing happened. Our sexy secret. You eating - eating a burger and tasting me on your fingers.” You tilt your head back as his thumb presses against your clit. “I’ll make it up to you later. Give you a - a blow job.” You promise breathlessly.

“Hmmmm.” Frankie’s cock twitches, dribbling a small spurt of precum into the fabric of his boxers. “I love seeing your pretty little mouth around my cock.” He twists his wrist to start curling his fingers up into you. “On your knees with your eyes watering, begging me to fill that mouth with my cum.”

You cling to him, so close to your orgasm when his fingers curl just right. “Love- love sucking your cock. Love it when you cum down my throat. God Frankie. I- oh God. Oh fu-” You don’t get to finish your moan when Benny walks into the kitchen.

“Fuck! What the fuck is going on here?” He yells, rushing over to drag Frankie off of you and your eyes are wide, blood now cold as Benny pushes Frankie whose fingers are wet with your arousal and his jeans still tented with his hard cock.

“Shit! I can-“ Frankie holds his hands up, ready to talk to your brother when he swings, belting Frankie in the face. “Fuck!” Frankie doubles over and squeezes his eyes shut, not doubting for a second that the younger Miller brother just broke his goddamn nose. “Fuck!”

“Benny!” You scream, reaching out to grab your brother's arm. “Stop! Stop! Don’t - don’t hurt him anymore. Please don’t.” You plead but Benny goes to hit Frankie again. “Stop! You need to fucking stop! I love him!” You yell, chest heaving as the rest of the boys come into the kitchen to see what has happened.

Frankie clutches his nose, blood pouring out and Will steps between them. “Oh fuck.” Tom groans. “You’ve been fucking the sister, Cat?”

Benny huffs and Will turns around, glaring at his younger brother and grabbing his neck. “Stand down.” He growls, before he turns back to you. “What the fuck is going on?” Will demands.

You stride over to Frankie after grabbing a clean tea towel, “I- I love him Will. I have loved him since I was seventeen and I- he’s the reason I couldn’t marry Brad. He’s always had my heart and I- I am in love with him. I love you and Benny but you won’t stop me from being with Frankie. I wanted to tell you guys properly but - shit. Are you okay baby?” You ask Frankie, brushing his hair back since Benny knocked it off of his head.

Frankie glowers at Benny, pissed off that he had broken his nose, but he nods, pulling his hand away so you can look. “Fuck Ben, why do you hit first and ask later?” He hisses, wincing when you touch the rag to his nose. “I love your sister. I’m not going to fucking hurt her.”

You turn to look at Benny, “I have never been happier. I love Frankie. He’s the love of my life, always has been. Please Benny, he was just - it was me who started it. He’s - I’ve never been happier. He makes me happy.” You tell your brothers, hoping they accept this.

“Fuck.” Benny huffs, turning around and rubbing his hand over his face. “I’ll get some ice.” He mutters and Will pins you with a disappointed look.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” He asks, making Frankie almost snort and then give a small groan from the pain. Black eyes are already blooming and making him look like a raccoon although the bleeding is slowing down.

“Would you have listened to her?” Frankie demands. “If she told you that I hadn’t taken advantage of her after she broke off her wedding? She gets babied by you two. Too much.”

You dab under Frankie’s nose before turning back to look at Will. “It’s true. I love you both so much but you would’ve freaked out no matter how you found out about me and Frankie. Please, just - just let me be happy. For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong.” You confess, knowing the Miller family has been good to you and you love them dearly but you always felt a little out of place since you’re adopted. With Frankie, you feel like you’re home.

That makes Will deflate, his shoulder dropping and Benny comes back with an ice pack, a wounded look on his face. “We- we made you feel like you didn’t belong?” He asks quietly, heartbroken at the thought, and hands you the ice pack, one he uses when he fights on the weekends.

You shake your head, taking the ice pack and Frankie hisses when it’s pressed to his nose. “You did nothing wrong. I love you both so much and your parents, they took me in and treated me like their own, but I was adopted. I don’t even remember my birth parents. I know it’s hard to understand but it felt like a part of me was missing. It still does, but with Frankie, I feel like I’m home. He’s my home. You will always be my family, always, but Frankie is the - the man I love for the rest of my life. Please, can you accept that? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you both earlier but I love him and I- I plan to marry him and have a family with him.”

“Shit.” Benny groans, closing his eyes and sighing. Will nods, feeling the exact same way as his younger brother. You aren’t joking. You are in love with Frankie. You never sounded this sure about Brad.

“And you?” Will asks, needing reassurances from his teammate and friend. The man he thought of as another brother.

Frankie lowers the ice pack from his face and gives both of them a solemn look. “I’m going to marry your sister.” He tells them. “And I’m going to have kids with her, build a life and love her until the day I die.”

You can’t stop the silly smile on your face as you look at the man you love, his nose stained with blood and eyes bruised. You’d kiss him if you could. Everyone notices the way you smile at each other when Frankie’s eyes meet yours until he hisses his pain. “You hurt her, no one will find your body.” Will warns before he looks at Benny, silently telling him to accept this.

Frankie nods, relieved that the older, more levelheaded brother is accepting the two of you this easily. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.” He tells Will truthfully, although he would never hurt you. Turning to Benny, he waits for his friend's reaction. Benny sighs again, shaking his head and reaching out to slap Frankie on the shoulder. “Sorry about the nose man.” He apologizes with a huff. “It’s not everyday you walk in on your best friend fingering your sister.”

You can’t help but fluster at that. “Sorry about that man. She’s just-” Frankie shakes his head, cutting himself off before he gets into any more trouble.

Tom and Pope snort, “yeah best not say anything else unless you don’t want your balls.” Pope chuckles, ignoring the glare from Benny.

You focus on Frankie and his nose. “You okay baby?” You ask and he nods.

“I’ve had worse.” He assures you and you cup his cheeks.

“It could’ve been worse.” You whisper and Frankie snorts, “yeah they could’ve killed me.”

****

Frankie groans, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. Keeping his hips pushing down, pinning you to the bed as he rocks into you. “Love you baby.” The sentiment is just as true today as when he murmurs it the first time telling you that he couldn’t watch you marry Brad. “I love you.” It’s been years since then. Things have changed. A lot. But his love and commitment to you has never wavered.

You grip his back, moaning his name as he rocks into you. He still feels so good, so intense, even after all these years. “I love you too. God Frankie, I- I don’t think I could live without you.” You confess, feeling sentimental tonight as he slowly makes love to you. “Gonna make me cum.” You whine, tilting your head back against the pillows as he grinds against that spot deep inside of you.

His lips slide over your skin, kissing under your jaw and along your throat as you tip your head back. Feeling your walls pulsing around him and he knows that you are going to cum. “Do it.” He rasps, your fingers intertwined with his and the rings he had placed on your hand flashing under the soft light of the room. “Cum for me baby.” He groans when you do, whimpering out his name softly while your entire body shudders under him, clenching down around him. “Fuck- fuck baby, that’s it. That’s-” The monitor by the bedside crackles to life. The cry of your son ringing out loudly and making Frankie freeze on top of you.

Your instincts kick in and you sigh as Frankie groans, pulling out of you to flop beside you on the bed, his cock throbbing and covered in your slick. “Stay hard. I’ll be right back, baby. Gotta see what the little monster wants.” You smirk, reaching for your dressing gown and you pull it on as you make your way to the nursery.

Looking up at the ceiling, he listens to you murmur as you change the baby’s diaper and croon to him softly. The oldest, his little girl, is already in Kindergarten and he can’t believe that the baby is already three months old. You’ve done exactly what the two of you said you would, building a life together. Sure there have been bumps in the road along the way, but he still loves waking up next to you and calling you his wife. Smirking when Benny scowls if he gets a little too handsy with you around your older brother.

You carry the baby back into the bedroom, closing the door to not disturb Ella from her sleep, and you turn to see Frankie stroking his cock. “You have no idea how much I want to just kneel down and take you into my mouth right now.” You moan softly, opening your robe after you settle down on the bed beside your husband. You undo it, cradling the baby in one arm as he latches on, immediately sucking on your nipple to gulp down the milk.

Frankie smirks and looks over to watch his son eat. It’s always been something that takes his breath away. “I think you’re a little busy, baby.” He teases, not stopping the slow strokes of his cock. Hand wrapped around himself while he slowly rocks his hips up. “Our little monster is our first priority. I’ll just sit here, neglected, with my balls about to burst.”

“You know he will fall asleep in a few minutes. Let me take care of you.” You shift the baby slightly before you reach over with your free arm to bat Frankie’s hand away, taking him into your grip and pumping him just how he likes. You watch him as his mouth falls open when you twist your wrist just right.

He lets out a ragged breath, careful not to be too loud to disturb the baby. It wasn’t like he would know what was going on or ever remember. Reaching over and caressing your thigh, needing to touch you. “Oh fuck.” He whispers, eyes dark and fixed on yours. “Fuck I love you.”

You keep a steady pace with your hand, twisting your wrist and swiping your thumb over the leaking head to gather up the pre-cum as you pump him. “I love you too baby. You gonna cum for me? Gonna cum for me now?” You coo, wishing you could kiss him but the baby has already fallen asleep against your chest, your nipple in his mouth.

“Yes.” Frankie whines, panting out soft breaths as his hips rock up frantically. He always loves how you look at him when you want him to cum. Pleading, like you need to see it. Keeping his eyes on yours, he feels his body tighten. Mouth dropping open and a strangled groan coming out while he paints his stomach and chest with his seed.

You work him through it, loving the soft groans that escape his lips as he cums. When he slumps back against the bed, you take your hand away and bring it to your lips to lick off the errant drops of cum that dripped onto your hand. “In the morning, I’ll suck you off.” You promise, “if this one doesn’t get me up first.” You coo, looking down at your sleeping son. Blissfully unaware of what just happened between his parents. “Is it wrong to already say I want another one?” You smile, looking over at your husband.

Frankie chuckles, shaking his head at your eagerness to have another baby. “Let’s get this one out of diapers and figure out what’s going on with the suspension.” He sighs heavily, knowing he fucked up but he was grateful that you had stood by him. He had been told by the lawyers that it was probable that it could be thrown out, considering his other drug tests had come back clean. Chalking it up to a false positive. He reaches out and strokes the baby’s head before he groans. “I’ve got to get cleaned up and meet the guys.” He tells you as he sits up, his cum cooling on his chest.

You sigh, knowing that Frankie misses his work. You’d had a difficult birth with your son and nearly died. In fact, they pronounced you dead at one point before you came back and it took you a few weeks to recover and get out of hospital, leaving Frankie to look after the baby. One night, after dropping the kids at his mom’s for a break, it got too stressful and he turned to something he’s never done before and never would again. Then the surprise drug test the next day came back positive. You understood why he tried coke, the stress must’ve been insane, and you don’t blame him for the suspension. He vowed he’d never do it again and you know he’s telling the truth. “Okay baby. Tell Benny I said good luck for tonight and tell Pope to come and see his godson. Will and Benny are Ella’s godfathers so it’s only fair Pope has a turn.” You kiss Frankie’s lips after he rounds the bed to head towards the bathroom but not before kissing you.

“I will, baby.” He promises, knowing that Pope will have to come over if what he had said in his text was real. He supposedly had a job for Frankie, something that would be an easy seventeen thousand and he can’t deny that he needs the money right now. He needs to make sure that you and the kids are provided for and right now being grounded meant he was making less. “You need anything when I come home?” He asks from the bathroom, wetting a rag to wash his cum off his body. “Diapers, tampons, chocolate?”

“Can you get me a milkshake from that place on your way home?” You ask, biting your lip. You craved them during your pregnancy and now, you still love them. Thankful you didn’t hate any of your cravings after giving birth. You carefully shuffle off of the bed, careful to not wake the baby as you walk into the bathroom, kissing Frankie’s shoulder as you look at him in the mirror. “I love you.” You say, resting your head on his shoulder as you cradle the baby.

He turns his head to kiss the top of yours, looking at you in the mirror. “I love you too.”

You smile, turning your head to kiss his lips. You have the family you always dreamed of having with Frankie. If only you could go back and tell your seventeen year old self that it’s all gonna work out and you’ll be happy. It would have saved you and Frankie a lot of heartache but ultimately, it made you both stronger and it was all meant to be. Francisco Morales was destined to be yours.

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#pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales imagine #catfish x reader #catfish x you #catfish x f!reader #triple frontier fic #triple frontier au #triple frontier fanfiction

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jake-g-lockley · 1 year

Text

Sunflower (Frankie Morales x reader)

Masterlist | Playlist

Warnings: mentions of sex, other than that just fluff

Word count: 822 words

A/N: Saw a TikTok, instantly though of Frankie 🥰 Also two fics in one day? I’m tryna feed my childrens ok 🥹

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

He was doing this on purpose. You were supposed to be completing your lesson plan but instead you're staring at the man who is doing pull-ups in front of you. The small part of your mind that was tied down to Earth was aware of the amount of saliva that had pooled in your mouth. Any more and you would’ve started to choke. Your eyes trailed past your laptop as you watched your boyfriend’s t-shirt strain under the flexing of his back muscles.

Frankie had subtly set up the wall pull-up bar right in front of your working desk and the contraption has been the bane of your existence since he started using it.

Who in the fuck does pull-ups at 11 pm on a Sunday night?

Frankie had tried anything in his power to distract you. He tickled you, kissed your neck and stole your laptop, but to no avail. You had practiced deep breathing techniques to immune yourself from the tickles, strained yourself from caving into Frankie’s soft kisses and your backup laptop sat perfectly under your thighs, your document safely backed up the cloud as you smiled sweetly at your fuming boyfriend. It was then when Frankie decided to (literally) pull out the big guns.

His legs were crossed at his ankles, creating the perfect vision of his butt that was displayed in front of you. You glared at his butt as if it was the cause of all your problems. If you had a boyfriend who didn’t have such a fat, juicy butt then you’d not have a problem with your concentration. But where was the fun in that?

His arms looked dangerous from this vantage point, shining with sweat that made his skin look like he was doused with honey. You knew first hand how those biceps have the ability to literally smother you in your sleep. His biceps made you dizzy with delight as you could see the array of scratches you left from last night, even at a distance.

You lick your teeth, wondering whether you could sneak a bite when a small chuckle from him threw you off balance.

“Heh, my plan worked.” he said with a sing songy voice as he let go of the bar and walked towards you.

“How-?”

“Your breathing gave it away, mi girasol. Besides, you stopped typing for a good fifteen minutes now.” he cut you off with a cheeky grin.

Mi girasol.

Frankie Morales really knew how to tune you to sing the right notes. With his perfect golden retriever smile and his sweet charming words, you knew you were absolutely done for. He had bought you sunflowers on your first date, not knowing that they were one of your most favorite things in the world. The nickname stuck, and your heart swelled anytime he called you that in his native tongue.

“I hate you, Francisco Morales.” you mumble as you feel the weight of his taunting gaze on you.

“You’re so bad at lying.” he says pointedly as he walks around the table to kiss your forehead.

“I am going to get rid of that pull-up bar.” you said smugly, getting up from your seat.

“Love to see you try.” Frankie retorted with a grin, crossing his arms and leaning against a nearby wall.

You stood at the doorway and looked up, wondering why the bar was so far up. Stretching one arm out, you try to grab onto the bar, but you obviously couldn't so instead, you resorted to jumping.

You huffed, clearly annoyed at your state of affairs as Frankie continuously chuckled from where he was standing. You jumped a few more times before large hands grabbed onto you and lifted you up by your waist. You grabbed onto the bar above you and your legs dangled below you as Frankie’s big head appeared in front of you with a shit eating grin.

“Gonna admit defeat, girasol?” he smiled, cupping your face with his hands.

“Help me do a pull-up and maybe I will.” you said, frowning at him.

“Of course, bebita.” he said as he slid his hands over your tits and abdomen before settling them onto your hips.

He pushed you up until your chin touched the bar and as he lowered you down, you swung your legs to lock your ankles behind his back, pulling him closer, letting go of the bar as he gripped you tighter. You giggled as he started to pepper your face with kisses, his beard tickling you in all the right spots.

You took his face in your hands and admired his earthy eyes as you pulled away. He smiled dopey back and swayed the both of you as you stroked his hair.

“I love you, and your juicy butt, mi sol.” you said giving him a kiss on the nose.

“I love you more, mi girasol.” he chuckles again, his eyes shining with your love.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Translations:

Mi sol: my sun

Mi girasol: my sunflower

Bebita: baby girl

Tagging: @romanarose @mintpurplemnm

Reblogs are appreciated <3 love you all so so much *muah*

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avastrasposts · 8 months

Text

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 30

We left Frankie in a pretty bad state at the end of the last chapter and now we need to get through that as his girl and the guys begin to really worry about where his actions are leading him. And Joel steps in of course, but perhaps not in the best way.

I just want to add too, that this chapter included a conversation that has been a long time coming but it was very hard to write since neither man wants to talk about it and I can just hope I did them both justice.

I just want to add too, since some people are nervous about it; I LOVE hearing your thoughts and comments on what I write, even if the chapter is months and months old! It's my favourite thing about posting here and on Ao3, hearing your thoughts as you read through the fic, so please, share with me!

Series Master List

Chapter 31 - Warnings have their own post - Word count: 7.7k

You wake with a start, your body jerking you awake with panicked breaths. The bedroom is light, the window faces south and a weak sun is glinting through the closed curtain which means you slept far longer than usual, the sun rises late in the Massachusetts winter months. You rush to push back the comforter and hurry out into the living room. The blanket is pushed back on the couch and Frankie is not there, and not in the kitchen either. As you turn to the bathroom you see what’s missing, his boots, his jacket and backpack.

“Fuck!” you groan loudly and run back to the bedroom, grabbing your clothes from last night and rushing to put them on. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You feel an urgent need to get to Frankie, to talk to him. It’s not like him to leave, certainly not in the middle of an argument, and never, ever, has he left in the morning without saying anything to you. Something is not right, it feels like the two of you have crossed a line that you need to get you both back behind.

You tie your boots and shrug your winter coat on, your first stop is Pope’s place. You hammer on his door and he throws it open, his face falling when he sees your expression.

“Frankie came home drunk last night and now he’s left again, I don’t know where he is!” you blurt out as Pope lets you into his apartment.

“Slow down, hermana,” he says, grabbing hold of your shoulders, steadying you, “From the beginning.”

“Frankie and I got into an argument about what he did when he was on that run with Will, he couldn’t understand why I thought he was too violent,” you say, trying to calm yourself, but your hands are shaking and Pope grabs them, holding them together between his own. “Then Joel came by, right in the middle of it, something about planning a new run, and Frankie just left with him, saying he needed to think. And then he came back late last night , really drunk and passed out on the couch, and now he’s gone! He never leaves without saying goodbye and I don’t know where he is!” Your voice breaks on the last word and Pope lets go of your hands, bending down to grab his boots.

“We’ll go find him, we’ll go to Benny’s first, Tommy said something yesterday about meeting there.” He looks up at you while he laces his boots, “Don’t worry, hermana, it’s early still, he can’t have gone that far.”

…

“Tell me again what this FEDRA guy told you about the raiders?” Benny asks Joel as they duck under a broken piece of the highway and head into an old sewage tunnel.

“A small FEDRA patrol saw a bunch of them down in Dorchester, if we take them out, we get to keep the supplies,” Joel replies, stepping around a dead rat.

“And you trust this guy?”

“Yeah, he owes me a favor, I saved his ass a couple of times. And he’s given me tips before, they’ve always been solid, nothing this big though.”

“Alright, as long as you think it’s a legit tip,” Benny nods and falls back a bit, Frankie’s right behind him, Tommy taking up the rear.

“You ok, Fish? You look a bit pale,” Benny says, his voice lower for the benefit of his friend.

“Yeah, just slept like shit, and we had a fucking early wake up call,” Frankie grumbles, pulling the bill of his cap down lower over his eyes.

“Tell me about it,” Benny sighs, “Eve just woke up to say goodbye, then she went right back to sleep. Wish I could’ve stayed in bed with her.”

“Mmhm, same,” Frankie mutters, pausing as they come to the end of the tunnel.

“Ok, on your toes now, we've got to go out in the open here,” Joel says, waving the other three men forwards.

…

The trek down to Dorchester is smooth, and it doesn’t take long for them to find the raiders' small camp. They’ve set up on the top floor of an office building and Benny and Frankie silently take out the two guards at the bottom of the stairs. It gets messy when they reach the top and they have to open fire but Joel tosses in a homemade smoke bomb and after that they can just pick off the raiders as they come stumbling out.

They pick through the raider’s supplies and fill their packs, it’s a pretty good haul and Benny starts searching for any food they might’ve hidden, coming across a door that’s been blocked off with a filing cabinet.

“Hey, Catfish! Give me a hand with this!” he calls to Frankie, “Cover me in case they’ve locked a fucking infected in here or something.”

Frankie stands a few feet from the door with his rifle raised as Benny puts his shoulder to the filing cabinet and pushes it out of the way. The door swings open and Benny jumps out of the way.

“Oh fuck, shit! Man, that’s foul!”

The dead boy of a young woman falls out across the doorway, her body must’ve been propped against the door, and judging by the stench, she’s been dead a while. The body of another young woman is curled up on a dirty mattress, she’s less far gone, her emaciated features still clear. Both women are naked and Benny swallows hard and glances back at Frankie as they both realize why the women were locked up.

“We should’ve killed those fucking raiders slower,” Frankie growls, turning away from the room and Benny follows him.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here and back to the QZ”.

Back down at street level again Joel takes the lead and moves down the way they came, covering a couple of blocks before Benny suddenly signals for everyone to halt.

“Heads up, I hear a car,” he calls in a low voice to the others.

“More raiders,” Joel says, “C’mon, we’ll ambush them, this is the only cleared street.” He looks around the block they’re on and points to cars that have been pushed aside on either side of the street. “Frankie, Benny, hide behind either car, cover me. Tommy, get behind me. I’ll make them stop, usual way should work, if not, just shoot ‘em.”

“Joel, you sure?” Benny interrupts, “How do we know they’re raiders? We should hang back and observe, see if they go for the base we cleared.”

“No, then we just have to clear them out again and this time they’ll be on their guard,” Joel scowls, “Get in position!”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Benny shakes his head, looking over at Frankie who’s already moved into cover, “Fish? You ok with this?”

“Joel’s right, it’s probably the same group of raiders, we need to take them out.”

“Get in position, Benjamin, or stay the fuck out of our way, they’re almost here,” Joel points to the other car, staring at Benny. The younger man takes a deep breath, glancing over at Frankie again who motions with his head to get behind the car.

“Fuck!” Benny growls and grips his rifle, ducking behind cover with an angry scowl.

Joel quickly gets into position as the rumbling engine comes closer, keeping an eye out for the car. As it gets closer Benny sees it, it’s a small beat up sedan with several bullet holes in the sides. He glances over at Frankie and gives him a hand signal, indicating three people inside. Frankie nods and passes on the message to Tommy just as the car drives down the block they’re on. Ahead of him, Benny suddenly hears Joel give up a loud shout, stumbling out of the alley into the path of the car, his hand clutching his side, the other raised to the driver.

The others watch, guns ready and hidden out of sight, as the car barrells towards Joel, who’s staggering across the road. Suddenly the driver slams the brakes and the car skids to a halt in front of Joel. From his hiding place Benny sees the driver open the door and step up on the instep, aiming a gun at Joel.

“Hey, I-I need help, p-please,” Joel stutters, holding up the hand that’s not holding his side, where he’s conveniently hidden his handgun.

“What’s wrong with you?” the driver calls as Joel stumbles closer, the man is still half hidden behind the door and Joel’s trying to get around to his side so he half falls to the side, taking several stuttering steps sideways.

“You infected?” the driver says, following Joel with his gun, “Can’t help you then I’m afraid.”

“R-raiders,” Joel coughs, “ran into a whole bunch.”

Benny looks over at Frankie, he’s got a clear shot at the driver and he’s aiming at him. Benny signals at him to hold his fire, these guys don’t sound like raiders, but Frankie’s shaking his head, squeezing his rifle as the man continues to keep his gun on Joel.

“Be careful, Dan!” a man in the car suddenly calls and Joel straightens up, pulling his gun, aiming at the man. A shot rings out and the driver slumps forward, a clean shot though his head.

“God dammit, Frankie!” Benny yells, lifting his own rifle as the man in the car dives for the fallen man’s gun. Joel fires on him but misses and the man takes off running. On his right Ben hears Tommy open fire on the third person in the car as Joel yells.

“Shoot his leg, Frankie, take him down alive!” The man is running as fast as he can down the block but two shots ring out and he yells, tumbling to the ground as blood bursts from his thigh.

“Secure him, Benny,” Frankie yells and advances on the car, rifle raised. Benny keeps his gun on the fallen man and moves up to him, he’s splayed on his back, gripping his thigh, whimpering.

“Oh fuck, please, please don’t kill me!” he says, trying to crawl backwards away from Benny.

“Just stay still, I’m not gonna hurt you unless you give me a reason,” Benny says, keeping his distance as he glances back at the car. Frankie’s jogging towards him and behind him, Joel steps into the car and a woman screams.

“No, no, don’t hurt her! She’s my sister!” the man on the ground shouts and Benny turns his head back to him as Frankie joins him.

“What’s going on, Fish?” he says in a voice low enough for the man not to hear.

“The third passenger is a woman, Joel’s questioning her about who they are and where they’re going.”

“Fish! These guys are obviously not raiders, what the fuck are we doing?” Benny glances back at the car as another high pitched scream comes from the woman and the man on the ground shouts.

“Get off her you fucking prick! I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

Frankie raises his rifle and aims at the man, “Easy there, he’s just questioning her.”

“What the fuck, Frankie, this is not how we treat civilians!”

“What fucking civilians? We can’t trust anyone, Benny, you saw what the raiders did to those two women!” Frankie growls.

“Yeah, but these guys are barely armed!” Benny nudges the dropped gun on the ground with his boot, badly maintained and rusty.

“And how the fuck were we supposed to know that?” Frankie asks, his rifle still trained on the bleeding man who’s whimpering, clutching his leg and looking towards the car.

“Maybe we don’t attack just anyone who drives past!” Benny hisses at Frankie, his eyebrows drawn tight with anger and frustration. “This is so fucked up, Fish!”

“Is he still alive?” Joel barks as he walks over, leaving Tommy to watch over the woman in the car.

“Yeah, but he’s bleeding, we need to get a tourniquet on that leg soon,” Benny replies, “Joel, what the fuck are we doing here? These guys are not raiders.”

Joel doesn’t reply, instead he walks up to the man on the ground and kneels down, Frankie’s gun is still trained on him, but Benny has let his drop, pointing it at the ground instead.

“You sister is it?” he asks of the man, putting his hand over the gunshot wound on the thigh.

The man nods, looking petrified under Joel’s hard stare.He yelps loudly when Joel’s hand squeezes the injured area, digging his fingers in.

“Your sister told me where you came from, and where you’re going. You’d better tell me the same thing she did, or I’m telling my guy over there to shoot her knee off, you understand?” Joel’s voice is hard and low, slowly squeezing the man’s leg tighter.

“Worcester!” the younger man blurts out, “We came from Worcester, and we’re heading for the Boston QZ but we got attacked and got lost. Please don’t hurt her, she’s my only family!”

“Have you got any supplies apart from what’s in the car?”

“No, no, I s-swear, we’ve got n-nothing!” the man stutters, groaning under the pain of Joel’s hand digging into his injured leg, “Please, we’ve got nothing!”

“Good boy,” Joel growls, easing off the man's leg and standing up.

He comes back to Benny and Frankie, wiping his hand on his trouser leg, “They both say the same thing. I say we leave ‘em and take the car, we can trade for it or stash outside the wall, might come in handy sometime.”

“Fuck, Joel, we need to take them with us, we can’t leave them out here,” Benny says and looks to Frankie for support but he just gives a hesitant shrug.

“I don’t know Benny, we can’t trust them,” he says.

“What fucking choice do we have? Leave them injured out here with no guns?” Benny snarls back at him.

“They’re not our responsibility!” Joel snaps, “Let’s fucking- “

All three men freeze as the first tell tale sounds echo between the buildings, the snarling shrieks of dozens of infected reaching them.

“Runners! Runners!” Tommy yells from the car, “Come on, we need to fucking go!” He rushes to the driver’s side of the car, jumping in and the woman sees her chance, bolting from the car and running for the alley.

“Leave her, just leave her!” Joel yells as he grabs Frankie and starts running towards the car, “Just start the car, Tommy!”

“Benny, no! Leave him!” Frankie shouts as he sees Benny moving towards the injured man on the ground. “Fucking leave him!”

“Please, please…just kill me” the man begs, looking back over his shoulder and Benny follows his gaze.

“Fuck!” he gasps, frozen to the spot for a second before he raises his gun and fires, the man slumping onto the asphalt. Benny spins around and starts running after Frankie, the horde of infected barrelling down the street screeching loudly.

“Benny! I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Frankie yells, “Get in the car!”

Tommy’s already got the car moving as Benny catches up, grabbing hold of Frankie’s arm and getting pulled into the back seat.

“Floor it, Tommy!” Joel shouts, looking back over his shoulder, out the back window.

…

Thank fuck Tommy’s a good driver, he speeds through the streets, leaving the horde far behind. He only slows down once they enter the area around the QZ and turns off onto a narrow street that Joel directs him to.

“Here, down there, park between those two cars and we’ll throw some trash on it.”

The four men quickly make the car look unusable and head towards the QZ, splitting up as they get inside, stepping out into a quiet alley a few blocks from the wall..

“Alright, good run, except for the fucking infected,” Joel says, clapping Frankie on the back, “I’ll see you guys at the bar in a couple of days.”

Frankie nods and Benny throw the brothers a two fingered salute as they leave.

“Hey Fish, wait up, we need to talk,” Benny says as Frankie turns to leave too.

“If you’re gonna yell at me for how we handled the people in the car, fucking save it, I already got an earful from Will after our last run,” Frankie says, his shoulders hunched and eyebrows pulled tight, “I don’t need another lecture on how we’re using army tactics on civilians.”

“Frankie, man, c’mon, you’ve got to admit, that was pretty fucking bad? We should’ve just observed them, not fucking attacked,” Benny rubs his hand over his face, “I mean, why the fuck did Joel even pull that stunt with forcing them to stop? And why did you open fire? I’ve never seen you jump the gun like that, Fish.”

“The guy in the car, I thought he was about to pull a gun on Joel, so I shot first.”

“And the interrogation technique? You taught him that?”

“So what? We do what we need to do to survive.”

Benny shakes his head, “That was not about survival, I don’t know what the fuck that was!”

“Just fucking leave it, Benny! Ok?” Frankie snaps, scowling at his friend, “I’ll see you later, I need to get something done.” He shoulders his backpack and heads off in the opposite direction of the apartment.

“Fish, c’mon!” Benny calls after him, but Frankie just gives a dismissive wave of his hand without turning his head as he rounds the corner.

“Fuck…” Benny mutters and stalks off towards the radio office, he needs to see you.

…

It feels like deja vu when you find Benny outside the building where Sean lives and has the radio office.

“I’ve got to talk to you about Frankie,” he says and you feel like your heart stops, you’d been trying to find Frankie all morning, until you had to go to the radio office. Pope promised he’d keep looking, checking back at the apartment during the afternoon.

“Did something happen to him? Pope and I have been looking for him all day!” you say, grabbing hold of Benny’s arm and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“He didn’t tell you we were going on a run with Joel and Tommy today?”

“Benny, is he ok?” You feel like shaking him but you limit yourself to grabbing his arm tighter and Benny nods.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s fine, he’s fine, he came back with me but he said he had to do something when we got back.” Benny takes in your anxious looking face as it slips into relief and returns your grip on his arm, putting his hand over yours. “He didn’t tell you and he hasn't come to see you yet? Is something going on with you guys?”

You sigh and feel yourself deflating, your shoulders sagging with relief that Frankie’s ok, but at the same time, that lead weight settles in your stomach as you worry about his behavior again.

“Walk me home, Benny, please,” you ask, “if you have time?” You feel like Benny’s friendly presence next to you is the only thing that will make your feet move down the street as you chew on your bottom lip.

“Sure, I’ll walk you, I need to get back to Eve but...but maybe that can wait, what’s going on?”

“Tell me what happened when you were with him today,” you say, taking his arm and leaving the front entrance.

Benny looks around the two of you as you start walking down the street, checking that there is no one near that can overhear first and then he tells you the whole thing.

“Fuck…” you sigh for what feels like the twentieth time as Benny ends by telling you that Frankie took off after they got back. “His PTSD has been getting worse and both Pope and Will brought it up in the past few days. That last run with Will, things went bad and Pope’s been noticing his behavior being off too.”

You’ve reached the door to your building and you stop, looking up at Benny’s frown. “Yesterday I tried telling him that I think he shouldn’t go on runs with Joel anymore. Joel triggers something in Frankie and…I don’t know…I feel like maybe they aren’t good for each other. They’ve both suffered an unimaginable loss, in the worst possible way, and when Frankie got help, Joel seems to have had to deal with it on his own and it’s made him…just…very dark, like he’s just ‘existing’ and doing what he needs to do to survive…”

“And he has no empathy for others,” Benny fills in, “he didn’t even stop to consider that the people in the car could be just people trying to get to the QZ, and he left them with no second thought when the infected came, it was all about eliminating a potential threat and then about saving himself and Tommy.” Benny swipes his cap off his head and drags his hand through his hair, sighing. “I’m not even sure he would bother to save Frankie and myself, if we hadn’t gotten to that car in time.”

“But Frankie doesn’t see it,” you say, “and when I asked him to not go on runs with Joel anymore because I think it makes his PTSD worse, we got in a huge fight,” you sigh deeply, dropping your eyes to your toes and you feel Benny’s hand on your shoulder. “He got really mad when I said I thought he was too violent with this guy, Frankie threatened to gouge his eye out. But Frankie said he only did what was needed to get the antibiotics for Sean’s grandkid.” You swipe your hand over your cheek as tears start to drip down, “Fuck, I don’t wanna cry again,” you say, anger seeping through your voice, “Fuck!”

You tilt your head back up and look at Benny’s worried eyes, “Come on, it’s you and Frankie, you’re everything to him, one fight doesn’t ruin it,” he says, rubbing your shoulder

“He walked out, Benny, right in the middle of the fight. He’s never done that before, he just took off with Joel. And then he came home really drunk and we started arguing again and he passed out on the couch, he said he thought I didn’t want him in my bed anymore. And then this morning he left again, without saying anything. He went outside the wall and didn’t even say goodbye.” Tears spill over properly now and you sniffle, trying to stem the flow, but the nerves of the day catches up with you. Benny starts rubbing his hands up and down your arms, trying to comfort you.

“Let’s get you inside, Frankie might be home already, you two need to talk it out, c’mon,” Benny gently hooks his arm around your shoulder and guides you through the door and up the stairs. You fumble out your keys and unlock your front door, opening up to a still dark apartment.

“Alright, he’s not home yet, but he’ll be here soon, I’ll wait with you until he turns up,” Benny says and starts to lift off his still heavy backpack and you stop him.

“No, please, go home to Eve. I know she’s worried about you since you went outside, get back home. I’ll be fine, and Pope’s next door if I need anything.” You put your hands on his chest and try, and fail, to nudge the big man towards the door.

“You sure? I’ll wait for him, and slap some sense into him if needed, just say the word,” Benny replies, tilting his head down to catch your eyes properly.

“I’m sure, Benny, please go home,” you give him another pointless shove and he gives with a small smile.

“Ok, if you’re sure I’ll go, but give me a hug first,” he says and bends down, capturing you between his long arms. Benny’s signature bear hugs are all encompassing and he lifts you up, shaking you gently and making you giggle through your tears.

“Just remember, it’s you and Frankie, you’re the love of his life. All he does, he does for you, if he’s lost his way, all he needs is for you to bring him back home. To you.”

“Benny, when did you become so insightful?” you smile weakly as he puts you down on your feet.

“Not insightful, I’ve just watched you two over the past, what is it? Eleven years now? And with Eve, I get it, what you two have. I’d do anything for her, and I know that’s all Frankie ever wants to do for you.”

“Get back to her, Benny, before you make me cry again,” you say, giving his arm a final squeeze before he steps through the door. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll come by the radio tomorrow and check on you, ok?”

“Ok, Benny, stay safe, love you!”

“Love you too, sis!” he calls as he jogs down the stairs.

…

You try to keep busy while you wait for Frankie; preparing dinner, cleaning the apartment, you even pull out your gun and start disassembling it on the coffee table to get it cleaned. It’s dark before he comes home, you hear his footsteps in the hallway first and then the key. Even before he opens the door you know something’s wrong, he struggles with the key in the lock, fumbling with the handle and you stand up, leaving the pieces of the gun on the table.

“Frankie?” you ask as the door shuts behind him, “Are you ok?” You walk over to the front door, and he glances up at you before he drops his backpack by the door.

“Yeah, ‘s fine,” he mumbles, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the hook. “Went out with Benny today.”

“I know, Benny stopped by the radio,” you say, your body freezing as he shuffles past, only briefly pausing to drop a peck on your cheek, perfunctory. He smells of whiskey, fresh whiskey, like he’s just been drinking.

You don’t even know where to start as you follow him into the kitchen, the argument last night, him leaving this morning without saying anything, his run with Joel today or the way he stumbles around the kitchen table towards the stove.

“Frankie…” you say again, making your voice soft, you feel like you’re talking to a child, or a wild animal, not your sweet Frankie who you know so well. When he doesn’t even react, let alone look over at you, you dig your nails into the palms of your hands, reminding yourself that this is his PTSD, this is not your Frankie.

“Frankie, talk to me please,” you start again, coming up next to him at the counter, you put your hand on his arm.

“What did Benny tell you? That we went out again?” he says, still not looking at you, his tone clipped.

“Yes, he said you took out some raiders and then…” you pause, you don’t know how to phrase it but Frankie does it for you. He steps away from you, and leans against the counter on the other side of the kitchen.

“H-he told you we took out three people in a car, that I shot one of the guys when I shouldn’t have, right? That’s what he told you? T-that I’m out of control and violently torturing civilians?” His voice is harsh, there’s an edge to it you don’t recognise and he’s still not looking at you.

“He’s worried about you, Frankie, and I’m too,” you say, “you haven’t been yourself these past few months.” You try to find his eyes but he’s got the bill of his cap pulled low, eyes on the floor two feet in front and his fingers are twitching, nervously.

“I already told you, I do what I need to do, to stay safe,” he mutters, the edge still sharp in his voice, crossing his arms tight over his chest, crossing his legs too, closing himself off from you.

“Benny said they were civilians, just trying to get to the QZ- “ you start to say but Frankie suddenly flares up.

“We’d just taken out a gang of raiders! It could’ve been more of them! The guy was about to pull a fucking gun on Joel, so I took the shot!” He throws his arms out, meeting your eyes for the first time. “You can’t fucking trust anyone, it’s us or them and I do what I need to do to survive! They could’ve attacked and killed us instead, then what?”

“But you were never like that before, Frankie!” you can’t help but raise your voice in frustration. When he worked with Pope in Arlington, or when you traveled up to New York with Benny and Pope, he was never so calloused, so distrusting and rash. “You used to observe, calculate the risks, you never rushed into situations, but since you started working more with Joel…I don’t know Frankie, it’s like he rubs off on you.” You drop your hands to your sides, you suddenly realize you’ve mimicked Frankie and thrown them open but now you sigh, lower them and take a deep breath.

“Frankie…I know you’re capable of real violence,” you shake your head, sighing, “but you’re not a violent person, it’s like it’s getting away from you when you work with Joel and I do-”

“Maybe I am a violent person now? This is the person I need to be now, to keep myself safe, to keep us safe!” Frankie slams his hands against the cupboard and stalks out of the kitchen, turning and gripping the back of the couch as he gets to it, looking back at you. “I do it for you, don’t you get it?! Maybe this is the person I have to be now to keep myself safe, for you, to stay alive for you because I have to keep you safe!”

“Then stay here, stay in the QZ,” you follow him towards the living room. “I don’t want you to go out any more if this is what you have to do. It’s destroying you!”

“That's all I can do!” he shouts back at you, “That’s all I’m tra-trained for, I’m the b-best at it! It’s the only thing that makes a difference!”

“Frankie, you don’t have to-” you begin, but Frankie just shakes his head and starts pacing the living room like he can’t hear you.

“E-every time I leave you make me p-promise to come back safe, did you ever stop to think that this is what I have to do to keep that promise to you?! I have to stay alive to keep you safe, I promised you that and now you think I’m a monster for what I have to do?”

Frankie slams his hands hard against the wall and spins round, stomping across the living room again and you’re worried now, he’s spiraling out of control, his voice becoming more and more unstable. “I d-do this for you, I stay a-alive for you, don’t you get it! I would’ve fucking ki-killed myself after she died! I was so fucking close to it, so-s-so fucking close to just walking into that fucking lake and ending it! If-if it wasn’t for you still in that cabin!” His voice is rising to a shout, spinning around and slamming his fist into the wall again, “I just..I promise to come back every time, I have to come back but you still think I’m just violent, just a fucking monster, just a mo-monster, I-I can’t- “

“Frankie, c’mon man!”

You didn’t even hear the front door open but Pope suddenly walks into the living room. You’re frozen by the kitchen as Frankie paces, more and more agitated, back and forth, his arms waving in front of him as his mind whirls. You can see his glassy eyes, his breathing is starting to get erratic but you have no idea how to stop this. But Pope strides over to his friend and stands in front of him, forcing him to come to a halt.

“Francisco, cálmate, hermano. Por favor;” he tries to catch Frankie’s eyes, gently placing his hands on his shoulders and holding on as Frankie tries to shrug them off, looking at him with almost unseeing eyes.

“Frankie…fuck…” he sighs as he scans his face, “you’re high as a fucking kite. What did you take?”

At that Frankie’s eyes snap up to Pope’s, “Fucking nothing!” he snarls, wrenching himself away and stumbling back towards the couch.

“Fish, I’ve seen you high more times than you can remember, I know when you’ve been using, man,” Pope says as Frankie grabs the back of the couch again, hiding his eyes beneath the bill of his cap again, refusing to look at you or Santi.

“Frankie…” you try, your voice wobbling as you recognize the signs in him but he just shakes his head.

“I had a few drinks with Joel, I’m not fucking high,” he mutters but Santi shakes his head.

“C’mon, Fish, I know you’re struggling, she knows it too, we just wanna help you,” he takes a few steps towards Frankie, the frustration seeping through into his voice and Frankie backs away, turning around and going for his backpack.

“I’m not fucking high,” he snarls over his shoulder, rifling through his backpack.

“Fine, you’re not using,” Santi says, “then show us your pack.” He motions towards the bag at Frankie’s feet and the way Frankie reacts makes your stomach sink another notch. His hands clench instinctively around the opening, pulling it closer but Pope steps in and reaches for the bag. Frankie abruptly stands up and stumbles back, grabbing it but his movements are slow and Pope’s faster, he snatches the backpack from Frankie, holding it away from him.

“Coño, pendejo!” Frankie snarls, trying to grab the bag back from Pope, “What the fuck are you doing?!” “What the fuck are you doing, Frankie?” Pope replies with a sneer, shoving him back and Frankie, already unsteady on his feet, stumbles backwards and falls onto the couch. “You told me yourself, never trust a fucking junkie.”

Keeping an eye on Frankie, while you stand stunned by the kitchen door, your hands gripping the door frame so hard your fingers ache, Pope opens the backpack and digs through it. It doesn’t take him long, under Frankie’s dull eyes he soon pulls out a small baggie with white pills. Pope sighs and holds it out to Frankie.

“What is it?”

“Painkillers,” Frankie mumbles, but his eyes drop from Pope to his feet, his lie so obvious it forces tears into your eyes.

“Frankie…” you whisper and he glances up at you and meets your eyes for a second before he looks away. But even in that brief glance you see the pain and guilt in his eyes and it pushes you to move, walking around the coffee table and sinking down on the couch next to him. You raise your hand to put it on his shoulder but before you touch him he’s on his feet, snatching the bag from Pope’s hand.

“It’s fucking painkillers, ok?!” he yells, his aggression flaring up as he stumbles towards the front door.

“Catfish, for fucks sake,” Pope shouts as his patience snaps, “get your fucking shit together, man!”

“Please, Frankie, you know this is your PTSD making you spiral, we’ve been here before,” you plead with him, standing up again as he stops with his back to you and the room. But whatever is in his system has control of him now as he shakes his head, his fingers twitching around the small baggie in his hand. Neither of you are getting through to him now, his body language closed off, even with his back turned you see the walls go up. But still, you go up to him where he stands by the door. His chin is on his chest, his shoulders up by his ears, you can feel the tension rolling off him as he fights whatever demon is in his mind. Gently you put your hand on his arm, and he trembles under your touch, giving the smallest shake of his head.

“Frankie…” you whisper, “please, stay with me, we’ve done this before, we can do it again, I love you.”

He shudders, a long held breath rushes out of him and he shakes his head again.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “I love you, I’m sorry.” He pushes open the door and his arm slips from under your hand. You hear him run down the stairs and Santi comes up behind him, he’s got his coat on.

“I’ll follow him, I won’t let him get into more trouble, I’ll get him back,” he gives you a quick squeeze and hurries after Frankie.

…

Frankie rushes through the streets, the bag of oxy burning a hole in his pocket. He has no plan for where to go, he left his coat back at the apartment and the cold March air is making him shiver. Picking up his pace he turns at random, down a street, and then another, losing himself in the narrow alleys of North End, but it doesn’t surprise him when he finds himself in front of Joel’s apartment building, a dirty red brick block. It makes sense; to end up here. He pushes the door open and stumbles up the stairs.

Joel’s slow to answer his front door, Frankie’s almost given up, prepared to sit and wait by the door, when the older man finally opens up and looks him up and down. “Hey Frankie, what’s up? You’ve got no jacket on.”

“I ran out on it, left in a hurry,” Frankie mumbles in reply, his mind is still foggy, he can’t quite focus on Joel. “I got some of your supply on me, Pope found it in my bag.”

“Ah, bet he wasn’t too happy about that,” Joel says, waving Frankie inside. “He ain’t too happy about me wanting to trade what we got up in Concord.” He closes the door and motions to the couch and Frankie slumps down on it as Joel goes to the kitchen and pulls out two glasses and a bottle.

“Give me one of those too,” Joel motions to Frankie’s pocket and sits down at the other end of the couch. Frankie pulls out the baggie and pour out the pills on the coffee table, handing one to Joel, taking another one for himself and they both down it with the whiskey.

Joel’s not one for talking much and Frankie’s grateful, he just needs a place to forget everything for a while. And for a long time both men sit at opposite sides of the couch, lost in their own minds as the chemicals take over. Frankie tilts his head back, his eye following the cracks in the ceiling until they slip closed and he just feels himself breathing, finally peace takes over in his mind as the fog settles.

Joel slips in another pill and another few large mouthfuls of the liquor, leaning back against the back of the couch and rubbing his eyes with his hand.

“You lost your daughter,” he says, almost surprising himself when the words come out.

Frankie doesn’t move, his eyes closed, “Yeah,” he squeezes his eyes shut, little sparks of red and yellow blossoming behind his eyelids, but he sees something else in his mind.

He tilts his head forward, opening his eyes and focusing on his hands, “Yeah,” he says again, rubbing his thumb over the fleshy part of his hand, he can almost see the blood on it. “I did, right at the beginning.”

“She got infected?”

Frankie balks at the question, the image of his little girl, mycelium under her skin, flashes up in his mind. He’s seen multitudes of infected since, killed so many, seen the thin white strands wriggle towards him as they attack and die in front of him, but he never lets himself commit what they look like to memory. This one is the only one that he remembers.

“Yeah,” he nods, “one of the first days.”

He and Joel have never talked about this before. He never talks to anyone about Lucía or what happened to her, not even to the one person who knows what he went through in the aftermath.

He glances over at Joel, he’s still leaning back on the couch, his hand rubbing over his eyes.

“D’you ever talk about Sarah?”

“No.” The answer is fast and curt.

Both men sit in silence for a few minutes, Joel shifts on the couch, looking over at Frankie, “Everyone’s lost someone. No one wants to hear about her.”

“How did she die?” Frankie locks eyes with Joel, suddenly it feels important to know how Sarah died. Joel knows how Lucía died, it feels important to know how Sarah died too. Joel meets his eyes for a few beats before he drops his gaze and stares at the wall opposite.

“It was the first night. We were trying to get away from town, ran into the military perimeter, a soldier shot at us. She…” Joel loses his words, his jaw clenching shut as he grinds his teeth, dropping his head between his shoulders.

Frankie feels the fog swirl around his mind, letting the minutes slip by while Joel stares down at his watch.

“I shot Lucía,” Frankie says, like a confession to Joel, to the man whose daughter was also shot. As if it makes a difference how they died. The daughters died and so did the fathers, when they failed.

The fog in his head clears slightly and behind the mist he sees the gun in his hand, aimed at his little girl, who no longer recognises him as she screeches and flails under the weight of her mother’s body. He reaches forward to the coffee table and takes two more pills, swallowing them down with the last of the whiskey in his glass, letting the fog cloud his mind again.

Joel blinks and looks at Frankie as if he has to think about what the other man just said, “You shot her?”

“I had to, I’d seen what they were turning into. I couldn’t…”

Joel leans forward, refilling his own glass and Frankies before he leans back, “I would’ve done the same.”

The two men sit in silence as the fog swirls through them, making thoughts slow to appear and slow to disappear.

“Sarah,” Frankie says, pushing a thought to the front of his hazy mind, “S-she was a great kid, L-Lucía loved her, fucking loved her. Didn’t stop talking about her for days after we got back.”

He grips the glass and takes a sip, shaking his head, trying to remember the comforting thought he just had, it’s stuck somewhere in his chest, he can feel it.

“I don’t…I do-don’t believe in God, I l-lost any faith I had in the army, you know. S-so many fucked up things that I saw, that I did,” he says, lifting his glass, motioning to the world outside. “I don’t believe in any god, any-anything. But I wish I did, because if Sarah d-died on that first night, that means that wherever they went, our kids, our little girls…Sarah was there waiting for Lucía. They weren’t alone,” Frankie pauses, he feels his chest constrict, that feeling like he can’t breathe threatening to overtake him. “I’d like to believe they weren’t alone,” he whispers, but in the quiet room, Joel still hears him.

Frankie slumps back down on the couch, spilling whiskey down his shirt, his burst of clarity suddenly spent, “They would’ve had each other…”

“We failed them,” Joel says, his voice low, Frankie can hear the fog in his mind too. “We should’ve kept them safe, but all we did was stand there. Couldn’t keep ‘em safe.”

Frankie nods, he feels his brain slowing down again, “I made so many mistakes…but she was the best mistake I made…couldn’t keep her safe,” he takes a large mouthful of the whiskey, it burns on the way down, distracting his mind for a second as he coughs.

“I don’t talk about Sarah, not even to Tommy,” Joel says, rubbing his thumb over the rim of the glass. “ ‘S’no point, just makes me angrier, I get by better if I don’t think about her.”

Frankie slumps down deeper into the couch, curling himself around the glass in his hand, watching the whiskey swirl around as the fog in his brain follows the motions.

“How do you stay alive,” he mumbles to the room and Joel tilts his head to look at the younger man, curled into the corner of the ratty old couch. The question is more for himself than for Joel but Joel answers anyway.

“For family,” he nods slowly, once, to himself, “for family, for Tommy. And for your woman, she kept you alive.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement and Frankie sighs.

“She doesn’t think I should do runs any more, and she’s right, I know she’s right,” he mutters, pushing his cap off his head and rubbing his temple with his free hand, the fog is lifting again and he feels the edge of panic in his mind, but he can’t remember what he’s should panic about.

“Why not? The drugs?” Joel motions at the dwindling pile of pills on the coffee table and Frankie grabs two of them, knocking them back with the whiskey still in his hand.

“My head is fucked up. From the army. ‘S’gets worse sometimes, ‘s’gets worse when I do runs, when I do violent things.” Frankie sighs, “She doesn’t like it.”

Joel snorts, a mirthless sound, “Men like us, you ‘n me, we do the violent things so others don’t have to, you keep her safe.”

“S’what I t-told h-her,” Frankie grumbles, he can feel his head getting heavier, the fog is so thick he can’t even push his tongue through it, it’s sticking to his teeth. “I do it-do it, t-to keep he-her safe.” He sinks further into the couch, his head leaning on the back of it as he wills his hand to lift up the glass to his lips and drain it. “I-I do it t-to come b-back t-to h-er.”

Through the fog in his own mind Joel sees Frankie tip forward, the empty glass in his hand, as he passes out. Joel’s glass clatters to the floor as he stumbles to his feet and staggers into the bedroom, falling onto the bed, passing out as his head hits the pillow.

Chapter 31

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446

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juletheghoul · 7 months

Text

AN: The gif of this man as a sheriff, sent my ass into a SPIRAL and this is what happened. I originally wanted to post this for my birthday, but with Canadian Thanksgiving falling on the same weekend there was no way I would have been able to finish lol. I am still trying to post more often, please be patient with me, hopefully this makes up for the lack of posting for the last few weeks. Special thanks to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments and in whatsapp over this, and to @frannyzooey for screaming at me through discord lol (And for making me some super awesome edits that I will post after!) Hope you enjoy xox.

(PS, I have an idea for a part 2, let me know if you’d want to read it!)

Pairing; Sheriff Frankie Morales x f!reader (Blue / Bluebell as a nickname)

Warnings; sweet, lovestruck Frankie needs his own warning I think-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy like the champion he is, a non-consensual creampie, angst, longing, yearning, some violence (involving guns / war, accurate for the time period-I tried not to let it get too gory or graphic) brothel mentions - let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 13k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

Dust swirled around him as he made his way into town from the train station, the sun beating down on his every step, and although he hadn’t been home in over a decade, he still knew the way just as well as if he’d never left. Difference was he’d left practically a boy, and now he’d come back a man.

People he both did and didn’t recognize passed him as he carried his suitcase down the sunny high street, some of them smiled, most of them ignored him. It made no difference to him. He would be their new sheriff just the same. Besides, there was only one person he cared to see again. There would be time enough for that later, though. First, he had to get settled.

The brothel was busy, a surefire sign of the town’s growth evident in the number of horses tied up in front.

“Well, hey there, sugar–” He tipped his hat and smiled at the young lady calling out to him, smiling as she leaned against one of the columns flanking the entrance, “-you coming to make a woman out of me?” She batted her big eyes at him.

“Don’t count on it.” His tone was polite, his smile in place. She tsked, giggling at his manners before being called away by someone inside.

Sweat was starting to collect on his brow with the effort of lugging his suitcase all the way from the train station, and he let out a relieved sigh when he finally stepped through the doors of the sheriff's office. It was somehow even hotter on the inside.

“Can I help you?” A kid no older than he’d been when he’d left greeted him from one of the two desks in the small room.

“I’m Francisco Morales, I’m here to see–”

“He’s here to see me, he’s my replacement.” A grizzled but familiar voice sounded from behind him, “You’re early.” The older man walked past him on his way to the second, bigger desk, where he put his cowboy hat down before turning to face him once more. “I was under the impression you’d be here by the end of this month. You in that much of a hurry to retire me, boy?”

He set the suitcase down before wiping at the back of his neck with his handkerchief.

“No sir, just wanted to get settled in, have some time to reacquaint myself.” He put the cloth away. “Fix up the house before starting. Thought I’d check in with you first, though.” He’d gotten in plenty of trouble growing up, and most of the time, this man had been the one to pull him by his ear and make him smarten up. It was a novelty to be in this office and not be in trouble.

“Well, you’ve checked. Go on and get settled. The desk and the badge will still be here in a week.” Sheriff Carson had always been one to speak plainly, and he did so now.

“Yes, sir.” Francisco picked the suitcase back up and braced himself for the glaring rays that would greet him just outside.

“Son,” He turned at the sound of the old man’s voice, “I was sorry to hear about your folks. They were good people.” He nodded back at the old man once and made his way back out the door.

—

“Try again.” You crossed your arms, “We both know I’m not paying that much.” You kept both your voice and expression as neutral as you could, keeping your real interest in the supplies he had close to your chest. Interest and necessity always cost more.

He narrowed his eyes, and you raised your eyebrows in return, holding your ground.

“Price is an even one hundred dollars; had to ride halfway around the world to get most of it-” You curled your lip in disgust.

“Bullshit, Dale! You rode to the nearest town, and that’s only a day's ride at the most. I’ll pay fifty, and that’s twice what it’s worth.”

“You tryna rob me, woman?” He crossed his arms, mirroring you, “I’ll go down to eighty, but that’s final.” He rose to his full height, his posture making him look like some giant, petulant child.

“Seventy-five. And I want some tobacco.”

“Goddamn, you drive a hard bargain. Fine.” He extended his hand, and you shook it with a satisfied smile.

“Good man. Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

“Yeah, yeah, robbin’ me more like.” He grumbled good-naturedly and unloaded the supplies while you counted out the money to pay him with. “Goin’ back in a couple weeks, make sure you let me know what you’ll be needin’ before I go.” He tucked the money away and left. The rest of the morning was spent restocking the various bottles and cabinets with your new stock.

It was therapeutic, sitting behind the big mahogany counter to take inventory of your shop. The shop that had taken you years to finally acquire. Every so often, you took stock of all the work you’d put into it and felt a significant amount of pride in what you’d accomplished. All of it done on your own.

The customers came and went throughout the day, buying tinctures and tonics, and you helped them all to the best of your ability until the end of the day eventually found you, and you locked up the shop. With a final sweep to ensure everything was in its right place before closing up for the night.

The sun was blessedly low as you made your way home, but the streets were busy. Ethel, the youngest and friendliest of the girls who worked in the brothel a few doors down from your shop, was smoking her pipe on the porch, waving and smiling as you passed.

“Hey Ethel, how you keeping?” You called out to her, “Fall in love again today?” She laughed, a plume of smoke wreathing around the halo of her hair.

“Of course, saw a tall drink of water today. Think I’m gonna marry him.” She winked, a devilish smile on her pretty face.

“Uh oh, sounds like he’s in trouble.” You laughed, waving as you passed by the house.

“He will be if he ever comes in here, bye Honey, see you later.”

The buildings thinned as you moved further and further away from the main street, giving you a clearer view of the surrounding ranches and houses scattered throughout the plains. Your own house came into view, and you smiled to see it. The view of it had the pride swelling again; it had been run down and ragged when you’d purchased it, but money wasn’t the only thing you’d invested. That house was the result of your blood, sweat, and tears. Hours and hours of elbow grease, blisters, and bruises, cuts, and had you not been very careful, it would have cost you a few broken bones as well.

There was another house on the way to yours though, one that wiped the smile right off your face as you passed it. It was a house that drew your eye no matter how many times you walked past, no matter how many times you tried to ignore it. It was empty now, but years ago, it had been full of life, full of love and mischief and happiness. It had been full of hope and promises. It was empty now, one of the windows broken, much like the promises had been.

You couldn’t help but watch it as you passed; something flashed in the window, but you ignored it. There hadn’t been anyone there for years.

Wish it would just burn down or sell. Wish the ground would open up and swallow it whole.

Your feet ache when you finally make it to your house, eager to unlace the boots imprisoning them. You did your best to hurry through all your chores and feed yourself, the promise of a hot bath and sweet-smelling soap carrying you through.

—

The house was so much worse than he’d thought it would be, and he’d thought it’d be bad. A couple of windows had broken, and half a town's worth of dirt and dust had blown in through them. He sighed at the state of it, knowing his mother would never have let it get this bad, and for once, he was grateful she wasn’t around to see it.

He set his suitcase down and made a mental list of what needed to be done. First thing first, he needed a few things.

With a wagon full of supplies and considerably less money in his pocket, he began the long process of making it habitable. With a stiff brush and an even stiffer broom, the dirt was returned to its rightful place outside the house. The windows that weren’t broken were opened to let in fresh air, and floors and counters were washed. Food and supplies were put away; the bed was made with new, expensive sheets and linens.

He worked his fingers to the bone throughout the day and most of the night until he’d done as much as he could. There was nothing to be done about the windows; the glass had been ordered, but it would be a few days, possibly even weeks, until he could fix those.

By the time he’d boiled water to bathe himself with, he could barely keep his eyes open, and once clean, he dropped into bed and into the sweet abyss of sleep.

It was strange for him to wake up in the same house he’d grown up in, even stranger for him to wake up in the bedroom his parents had owned. He’d been so dead tired that he’d forgotten to close the shutters, and the room was flooded with the golden light of dawn, chasing away any and all hope for a few extra hours of rest.

Those earlier years were vivid in his mind now that he was here, in this house. He could practically hear the younger, wilder version of himself climbing out his window to go find her. Could still taste the stolen kisses in his mouth, could still hear her delighted laugh when he’d wrap her up in his arms and declare his undying love.

He rose, trying and failing to leave the memories of her behind, and got ready for the day. The coffee he’d bought from the general store wasn’t half bad, and he drank the whole pot with gusto, making a mental note to make sure he picked up some more before he ran out.

The current sheriff didn’t want him underfoot while he settled his affairs, and he didn’t plan on making Carson’s life harder, but he did want to reacquaint himself with the town he’d soon be the law in. He figured the best way to do that would be to go into the businesses and talk to the people, and make his presence known.

You should be looking for her, give her an explanation–demand one in return.

He shook his head, ignoring the rational part of his brain. After all, he didn’t even know if she was still here. He thought about her as he left his house, imagining he could see the two of them as they’d been before. He, in his transition into manhood, her in the bloom of her youth, the two of them inseparable. The ghosts caught up to him though, and then he saw her–the real her, standing just outside the apothecary, waving someone away.

She saw him too, and his heart raced. She was even more beautiful to him than he remembered; it was as though for a brief moment, all of the years between them melted away.

A very brief moment.

The look of shock and hurt, and what he hoped had been love on her face was replaced with a look that, thankfully, could not hurt him. It was pure and unadulterated anger, no–fury.

His legs moved, bringing him towards her. This was definitely not how he wanted this meeting to go. He just hoped she’d listen, but judging by the way she stuck up her middle finger at him, it didn’t look good.

–

The nerve of him. The unmitigated gall!

“Wait–” His voice sounded as you turned to make your way back inside the shop.

“No!” You yelled back over your shoulder, not even bothering to face him, even as your heart raced to see him again.

“Goddamnit, woman, wait! Let me talk to you–” He was closer than you thought, barely managing to avoid you slamming the door in his face.

“Don’t you ‘woman’ me, Francisco Morales!” you yelled up into his handsome face, hating how gorgeous he looked, how his neck- one of your favourite parts of him- stared you in the face. “Do me a favour and take off for another fifteen years. Leave me be.”

“Come on, Bluebell, you gotta let me explain.” He managed to slip through the doors before you had a chance to lock them, but it didn’t matter, the pet name he called you stopped you in your tracks and rocketed the fury to new heights.

“Bluebell?” You couldn’t hide the edge of violence in your voice, “How dare you call me that? I am nothing but a stranger to you at this point. You lost any and all privileges to call me anything at all when you left.” He was taller than when he left, but his eyes still burned into yours the way they’d done when you were young and in love.

It would make you laugh if you weren’t still so hurt about how everything had gone down. The way he was standing in front of you, hands on his hips, frustrated frown in place. You didn’t give him an inch, but it hurt to admit just how badly you’d missed him. You shooed the swirl of feelings for him away, focusing on the one easiest to deal with: anger.

“Will you listen to me at least?”

“Why should I?” You turned from him, busying yourself with putting a few of your jars back in their place.

“Well, because I owe you an explanation–” You let out a bark of cruel laughter.

“That’s an understatement.”

“-I know, I always intended on coming back for you. You have to know that.”

“Do I? Do I just have to know that Francisco?” You all but slammed the jar into its slot on the big cabinet, taking up the whole wall behind the counter. “You know, you have some goddamn nerve–” the little bell above the door jingled when the Sheriff walked in, his bushy, white eyebrows raised into his hairline as the look on your face. It didn’t take an overly in-depth investigation to see that Francisco wasn’t exactly in your good books.

“You never could stay out of trouble, could you, son?” He moved past him to stand at the counter before you, “You want me to come back later, sweetheart?”

You sighed, doing your best to smile at the older man.

“Not at all. I have the tonic ready; give me just a moment to wrap it up for you.” You did your best to smile and ignore the big, aggravatingly effective puppy dog eyes shining at you from your peripheral. “Here you are, Sherriff, that’ll be thirty-five cents.” He dug into his pocket, counting out the right amount and handing it over before thanking you and turning to leave.

“You make sure you let me know if you need anything–” He gave Francisco a frown, “-and I mean anything.”

“Yes sir, thank you.” With another jingle, he was gone, but other customers made their way inside, and Francisco sighed.

“You can go ahead and leave. I am at my place of business.”

“I will come and find you later. Then we can actually talk.” He took a few steps back, his hand on the door handle.

“I won’t hold my breath.”

—

Much to his annoyance, the sheriff was waiting for him outside of the apothecary.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” He spoke the words through a tired sigh.

“Boy, I do believe that woman hates you.”

“No sir, that woman loves me. If she hated me, she would have shot me.” He moved away from the sheriff, ignoring the raucous laughter that followed his every step. He ignored it and set about doing what he needed to do, telling himself that he’d be able to deal with it later when she let him explain himself. It made no matter what he told himself, though, his mind wouldn’t let her go.

Instead of using the time productively, he found himself counting the hours until she closed up the shop, loitering around the door like some lovestruck teenager. He scoffed to himself, ignoring the cloying heat of the sun. Isn’t that all he was? Just some lovestruck fool? She couldn’t know that, though, not with the way things had gone down.

Any hope he had of her cooling down throughout the day died at the narrowing of her eyes, her expression now as she locked the apothecary door so different from the one that had kept him going throughout the years he’d spent away.

“Still here, shocking.” She waltzed past him, “Just leave me be.”

“I can’t do that., I need you to listen to me.” It took him a few long strides to catch up with her, “Can I please just explain?”

“Why? What does it matter at this point? I don’t want to hear you–” He stood in her way, blocking her path on the dusty sidewalk.

“Listen! Please!” He held onto her arms, keeping her still so he could look into her eyes. “I know you aren’t happy with me–” She scoffed, and he spoke over her, “I know, but you have to know that I missed you all this time. I didn’t want it to happen like this, but I can’t help that now.” She shrugged out of his grip, crossing her arms.

“You okay, Honey? This man botherin’ you?” An older woman shouted from the porch of the brothel, her hand on the gun at her hip.

“No, Ma’am, I’m fine. I know him–well, I knew him.” She turned towards the madam and smiled, “I got it under control.” She sighed and walked around him, turning to him after a few steps. “You have until I get home.”

He rushed behind her and kept the smile to himself.

“I see you’ve done really well for yourself. It makes me really happy to see how you’ve been–”

“This isn’t an explanation. You’re wasting your time with flattery I won’t respond to.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” He frowned, trying to keep pace with her. “I sent you letters–”

“You sent me a few letters, all of which I responded to.” She spoke loudly, cutting him off. “A few letters in almost fifteen years–”

“I sent you dozens of letters.” It was his turn to frown and her turn to slow down, “I wrote to you as often as I could, even after I stopped getting your responses.” He knew he wasn’t exactly the kind of man her parents had wanted her to end up with. He remembered the sour looks on their faces when he’d come calling.

“I got a few letters the first year and then nothing else.” Her expression was wary, her eyes narrowed. “Did you really write to me? Or are you saying that so I’ll forgive you?” She crossed her arms, stopping to gauge the truth in his words.

“I wrote to you for years, figured I would have to come and talk to you in person, but then I thought maybe you’d met someone else, or moved away, or worse. Then I told myself I’d come and find you, but life is the way it is, and things got in the way. When I heard they needed a new sheriff, I sent word to Carson to see if he’d consider hiring me–I was shocked when he responded yes.” She stared at him, eyes bright but mistrustful. “I swear on my mother's grave.” He took her hand, holding it to his heart. “I should have come sooner-” She pulled her hand away gently, fire still burning in her gaze, but now it was coloured with sadness as well as fury.

“Yes, yes, you should have.” She sighed and continued walking towards their homes, “I am so angry at you, Francisco. I am angry you left and angry you came back.” She looked away from him, her hands flying to her face momentarily before facing forward again.

“I know.” His house came into view, and he fought the urge to invite her in. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.” She didn’t respond, only kept her eyes forward. “What time do you leave in the morning?”

“What?” She frowned.

“What time do you usually leave? I’m not sure what time the Apothecary opens–”

“It opens at eight, but I like to get there early. Why?”

“May I accompany you? I would like to walk with you if I could.” He knew she wouldn’t forgive him so quickly. Her fiery temper was one of the things he’d always loved about her.

“You want to walk me? I am fully capable-”

“I never said you weren’t. I would still like to walk with you. I’ve missed talking to you, it would be a nice way to…reconnect.” He chanced a smile, hoping it would still have the effect it used to.

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t smile in return. Her house was closer now, his time with her coming to an end for the day.

“I suppose I cannot stop you.” It wasn’t a yes, but it definitely wasn’t a no.

“See you tomorrow then, goodnight Bluebell.” He stopped a few yards from her door, waiting until she was safely tucked inside before turning and going home.

The moon was high when you finally dug out the letters you’d hidden away deep in the chest at the end of your bed. The paper had yellowed, and you didn’t even bother getting up off the floor. With shaky hands, you untied the little bundle and spread them out in front of you, trying your hardest not to tear up at the little hearts and flowers he’d drawn in the curled-up corners.

My Dearest Bluebell,

I cannot even begin to tell you how much I miss you. Things here move so quickly, but I’m doing so much, making more money than I’ve ever seen! More than enough for us to start our lives together–

You pushed the letter away, finally letting go of the sob that had been squatting in your throat since seeing him earlier that morning. The love he’d had was so evident in his scratchy script, and the pain of his apparent silence reared its head in your soul to see it again after all of the years you’d survived without him. The last letter he’d sent held no clue as to why he’d ever stop writing, and now a nagging suspicion filled the corners of your mind.

Your mother had made it more than clear that Francisco wasn’t her first choice for you. She’d treated him less than kindly whenever he came calling, would turn up her nose at him whenever she’d seen the two of you together, and had smiled a big, cruel smile at the news that he’d be leaving. Would she have gone so far as to hide letters from him? Something in your heart said yes.

Suddenly, it was too much to see his words surrounding you, and you gathered them up hastily, tossing them back into the chest before surrendering to the exhaustion in your heart and in your bones and getting into bed. You tried to think about something else as you lay there, anything else–but he kept popping up, making you wonder–against your will–whether or not he’d actually be there in the morning.

He didn’t let you wonder.

His heavy knock made you practically jump out of your skin as you did your best to tie the laces of your corset. You chewed on your bottom lip, annoyed with how you rushed to throw on your dressing robe, sighing at the speed with which you made it to the door.

He smiled as you opened the door, testing every measure of self-control you’d built up in his absence with a single dimple.

“You’re here.”

“Yes, just like I said–I figured it would be best to be early.” His gaze raked over you in your half-dressed state, “You look lovely.”

“Sure I do.” You scoffed, “I need more time. I usually leave a little later.” He scratched at the back of his neck, unsure what to say, and you had to work extra hard to keep from laughing at him. “Come in then. You can wait in the kitchen while I finish getting dressed.” You turned and left then, leaving him to close the door.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You kept the door slightly ajar in your bedroom, your heart racing to know that after all this time–he was in the same house as you. You shook your head, shooing away the novelty of his presence to call up the anger and the fury that had kept you from falling apart in his absence.

“The house looks great!” He called from the kitchen, “You shoulda seen the state of mine when I got here.”

You bit your lip, relishing the deep tones of his voice as they filled the house.

“Still haven’t been able to fix the windows–had half a desert's worth of sand in the house. Took me forever to clean it.” He continued speaking as you finished dressing, completely unaware of the way you contemplated whether or not to use some of your very pricey, very precious perfume. You ignored the disappointed little voice in your head as you dabbed a few drops behind your ears and on the inside of your wrists.

“-hopefully, they'll come in by the end of the week-” He was still speaking when you made your way back into the kitchen where he sat at your little table, the long lines of him entirely too big and too wonderful for the tiny space.

“Have you eaten?” You cut off his speech, pulling down the cast iron pan from the rack above the woodfire stove.

“I, uh, I had some coffee.”

“So, no?” You shoved some kindling into the open door of the oven, striking a match to light it.

“Well, no–”

“Okay then.” There was enough time, and you got to work.

“Can I help?”

“No–actually, yes. You can go fetch some water from the well out back.” You shoved the big kettle into his hands and sent him on his way, where he went without comment.

Soon enough, you had biscuits baking and coffee brewing, and the house smelled better than any perfume you could buy. You once again ignored the little voice, the one that curiously sounded like your mother when you put out both the butter and the jam.

When they were out of the oven and steaming, you couldn’t help but smile at how well they'd turned out.

“It smells like heaven in here.” You could practically hear him drooling, and it was with a great sense of both satisfaction and pride that you watched him throw caution to the wind and eat one without waiting for it to cool down. He moaned at the first bite, making your heart soar and silencing the mean little voice.

“You like them?” You had to hear it, had to hear the words in his voice.

“Like them? Honey, I’d kill for them.” You narrowed your eyes at him but let the endearment go without comment. Already, you were softening up for him. “I could eat this whole goddamn plate.” He pulled another one open, no doubt burning the tips of his fingers but continuing on just the same, slathering it with both butter and jam before taking a huge, steam-filled bite.

You ate yours slower, unsure what you liked best, the biscuit or watching him eat.

He poured you a cup of coffee before pouring one for himself, and for a moment, your heart shattered at how right it felt to have him here. For the first time since he’d left, you let yourself feel just how lonely you’d been without him.

“I know you’re angry with me.” He put the remnants of his biscuit down, “I know you think I abandoned you, picked up and found a new life outside of this place, but you have to know–” He reached over, taking your hand in his, “I never stopped thinking about you.” The tears flowed without your permission, what felt like years worth of them dripping steadily onto the bodice of your dress. “I have loved you since I was a boy, and I should have come back the second I thought something was wrong. I’ll never forgive myself for letting you worry or letting you imagine for a single moment that you weren’t everything to me. I know it’ll take time for you to trust me again, but I’ll work as hard as I can.”

You wanted to rip your hand away, to scream in his face and tell him to give you peace, but you couldn’t. Instead, you let the tears fall, let him stand and tentatively pull you towards him, let him crush you in the first hug you’ve had in years. For a moment, it’s as though you cannot get close enough, your hands like claws digging into the fabric of his overcoat, knuckles cramping from the force of your grip, and he sighs into your hair. The relief of the painfully familiar smell of him is so great that it almost knocks you off your feet.

When you finally push him away, you know your eyes are puffy.

“I believe you–” He smiles through his own tears, “-but I am still angry. I cannot just let go of my hurt. Not so quickly.” It takes everything in you, but you untangle yourself from him softly. “I have been living in this for so long, I don’t even know how to stop feeling this way.” The handkerchief that usually lived in your pocket made itself useful now. “I don’t even know where to begin. I loved you so much–” His face contorted in pain, the use of the word in the past tense like a stab to his heart. “-I don’t think I ever stopped. It’s the reason it hurts so much.” He let out a shaky breath, smiling a watery smile.

“I know, I’ll work for it, I promise.”

“I know.”

–

He felt like he was flying. His steps were so light, surely he’d grown wings. He knew it was going to be a long road for them, but for the first time in years, he had hope.

He couldn’t keep the smile off his face throughout the day, the feel of her in his arms, the smell of her in his nose, all of it made him feel like any errant puff of wind would blow him away. He had a skip in his step as he made his way over to the Sheriff's office, uncaring whether the man wanted him there or not. He had to keep his time away from her occupied with something, and learning what it took to do his job effectively was the next best thing.

“I haven’t seen that look on your face in years, it meant trouble back then, and I doubt it’s changed.” Sheriff Carson frowned at him, “Your house all fixed up then?” He didn’t stop what he was doing, instead continuing as he spoke.

“As fixed as it can be, sir, until the replacement window panes come in.” He sat in the chair in front of Carson without invitation. The man only grunted in response.

“I want to start early, get a feel for what you do so I can do it properly.” At this, the older man looked up.

“I know I wasn’t the easiest kid–” The older man scoffed at that but let him continue. “-Yes, yes, I know. I was a helion. I’m a man now, and I’ve grown up. I just want to keep this town safe, want to do my job.” The older man's eyes narrowed, and Francisco frowned. “Why did you say yes when I applied?”

“Part curiosity, part hope, I guess.” He set the pen down, leaning back in his chair, his arms coming to rest crossed on his belly. “You’ve always been a smart kid, Frank, and if you really are as grown up as I think you are, I think you got the makings to be a great sheriff. Especially if you’re anything like your daddy.” It was probably the nicest thing Carson had ever said to him. He didn’t know how to respond.

“I just don’t want you to hurt that girl–” He raised his hands to forestall any response, “I know what you felt for her was real, but she was a shell when you left, and I don’t want to see her like that again. We clear?”

“Yes, sir. I’m here. I’m home for good.”

“Good, now let's get to work.”

Francisco was no stranger to hard work, but Carson seemed determined to make him jump through every single hoop in order to prove he could do this job. It didn’t deter him in the slightest, not with the promise of the life he’d always wanted so close on the horizon. Instead, he took notes, followed Carson, did everything he asked, and paid as much attention as he could, but secretly counted the hours until he would see her again.

He heard the gunshots as he organized the disaster that was Carson’s filing system.

“Suppose you oughta come with.” Carson slipped his holster on, handing a gun to him before leading the way toward the sound.

A half-naked man was rolling around on the ground just outside the brothel, clutching at a blood-soaked arm. His eyes were wild with pain and anger, and he only seemed to get more frantic at the sight of the two of them approaching.

“Sheriff! Arrest that woman!” He pointed with his good hand at the young woman on the porch. “Crazy bitch shot my damn arm-”

“You put your hands on me, and you lose your hand! Them’s my rules!” She was screaming mad, a painful-looking shiner blooming on her pale face.

“Enough!” Carson’s voice rang out loud enough to silence everyone within earshot, “Now–Who’s gonna tell me what happened? I can listen, or I can arrest the lot of you and be done with it.” He rested his weight on one leg, hand resting on the gun at his hip.

The madame stepped out from behind the younger woman, her face austere.

“I think it’s pretty obvious; he took a liberty, smacked my girl around, and he got bit.” She put her arm around the younger woman's shoulder. “Ethel is one of my best. Now she’s got this to deal with. He’s lucky she didn’t shoot his pecker off.” The man scoffed, pulling his shirt on as best he could before moving towards the women.

“I don’t think so, pal,” Francisco spoke directly to him, pulling his own gun and holding it at his side in warning.

“I got witnesses, Carson. Lock this fucker up, and let us get back to work.”

“I’ll need to come in and get some statements, Mabel. You know that as well as I do. Frank, take this moron over to get patched up.”

“So I’m just gonna lose my fuckin’ hand!?” He was incensed.

“Lucky you didn’t lose your life. Now get out of my sight. I’m gonna give you until sundown to be out of here; if not, you can spend an undetermined amount of time in my jailhouse.” Carson’s voice held no room for anything but complete obedience, and after a tense moment, all of the air went out of him, and he let Francisco lead him toward the town physician.

You tried not to be upset when he wasn’t waiting for you outside the apothecary at the end of the day; after all, he hadn’t said he would be. Instead, you locked up as usual and set about making your way home.

“Bluebell!” His voice rang out from behind you, making your head whip around. Your frown turned from annoyance to worry at the sight of dried blood on the white of his shirt. Your hands clutched at the collar of his shirt before you had a chance to catch yourself.

“What happened?” Any and all propriety went right out the window with how frantically you pulled at his layers to see where the blood had come from. “Did you get hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine–it’s not mine.” there was something in his voice that brought you back to your senses, a tenderness that pierced the very heart of you. His hands held onto yours for a moment before you pulled them away slowly.

“Oh. I’m glad.”

“There was some trouble at the brothel. One of the girls shot some idiot who got handsy. I had to bring him to the physician.” The thought of him anywhere near the brothel made your hackles rise. You stamped the feeling away and continued your walk back home. He fell into step beside you. “What was that?” His smile was big now.

“What was what?”

“That look you just gave me.” He bumped his shoulder into yours, and you frowned.

“What are you talking about? I didn't give you any look.”

“You gave me a look, Blue, when I said the word brothel, a jealous look.” His smile was so wide you wanted to smack him.

“I did not. You are free to do as you please. We aren’t married.” You kept your eyes on the horizon and did your best to ignore the bark of laughter he let out beside you.

“Fine, I’ll drop it. I got no business in a brothel anyway. Even if I’m not married, yet.”

You sighed, ignoring just how right he was.

There was a man with a wagon waiting just outside his house as you passed it.

“Can I help you?” He called out to the man outside his house. You can’t help but notice how he put himself between you and the stranger.

“I have some window panes to deliver.” He walked around to the back of the wagon, uncovering it to show the cargo

“Oh! Yes, I’ll take those.” He jogged over to the man, helping to bring the glass inside. You followed him despite yourself, unable to keep the frown off your face at the state of his home. You were still looking around when everything had been brought inside, and the man had been sent away. “It still needs work, but at least the windows will be intact.” You could see how he surveyed his home, his eye just as critical if not more than yours.

You set down your things.

“Need to boil some water.” You hauled out the biggest pot you could find.

“What?” He came over and took the pot from you, putting it onto the stove for you.

“We need to boil water to clean these floors, and we should wash these windows too.”

“Yes, but I can do it–”

“Francisco. Go get water so we can boil it and get this place in order.” You raised your eyebrows at him and relished the way he watched you. He’d always liked it when you were assertive.

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled before heading out to his own well.

Once the water was boiled, you got to work with a stiff brush while he set about replacing the broken windows. It wasn’t easy work, getting down on your knees to scrub the years worth of dirt and dust out of every nook and cranny embedded in the floorboards. It was worth it, though, to look up every so often and see the hard lines of him working, both his jacket and waistcoat shed and thrown onto a chair; his shirtsleeves rolled up.

He’d always been beautiful to you, with his big brown eyes and his golden skin, the maddening dimple, even the curve in his nose. He was even more gorgeous now, with age and experience etched on his face, even hardened, he could still make you swoon.

You gasped at the sting, snatching your hand back cat-quick. Blood beaded on your finger and dripped down onto the freshly washed floor, an errant piece of broken glass sitting on the floor. It was a few seconds before he was gathering you up from off the floor and guiding you to one of the chairs.

“I’m okay, just a little cut.” He moved away for a moment, moving towards the back of the house. “Really, Frankie, I’m fine.” He came back with a few pieces of clean linen and a little jar of something clear; you can only imagine what it is.

“I know. I still want to clean and wrap it, though.” He set his things down, moving to the remaining boiled water on the stove to dampen one of the pieces of cloth, using it to clean the wound before opening the little jar. His eyes found yours then– ”You gonna be brave for me?” He held it over the cut, waiting for you to answer. “It’s going to hurt, but I know you’re gonna be good for me.” He winked and then splashed a little bit of the moonshine onto it. He may as well have stuck a hot poker into your hand. “There there, Blue, almost done.”

By the time the stinging abates, your finger is wrapped up, and any evidence of injury is gone.

“Thank you.” You held your hand close to your chest, ignoring the way it shook a bit.

“Of course, I think we’re done for today. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I would like for you to eat something.” He pulled out what looked like some crusty bread and some dry meat. “It’s not much, but it’s what I have for right now.” He set it down in front of you, giving you everything he had to offer, and for the first time in years, you smiled at him.

“Are you done with the windows?”

“Yes, I just need to get rid of these broken pieces.” He gestured to the pile on the counter.

“Okay, let's go back to my place. I can make us dinner.” You stood to move, and he followed you, protesting for a moment.

“But your hand–”

“My hand is fine. Let’s go.” You moved to pick up your things, but he stopped you, gently knocking your hand aside to carry them for you.

The stew came together as quickly as it could with the way your hand throbbed. The bread, too, and soon enough, you were both sitting at the table eating the steaming food quietly. He ate with gusto, and you wondered briefly if he’d been eating well in his time away. He looked strong, but then again, he’d always been broad.

He pushed his bowl away with a dreamy smile, his hands coming to rest on his belly.

“That was the best thing I’ve eaten since I left. Aside from the biscuits this morning, I mean.”

“I’m glad.” You finished eating as he sat there, enjoying his company far more than you’d ever admit. Once you were done, he grabbed your bowl and put it into the sink, pouring some of the leftover well water to begin cleaning up. “You don’t have to do that–”

“I know. You don’t have to feed me either. I’ll just clean these and then get out of your hair.” You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t convince him otherwise.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you, you’ve fed me better today than in the whole time I was gone.” You smiled to yourself, half exhilarated, half annoyed at just how much your anger at him had crumbled. “Okay-” He set the last plate on the drying rack before drying his hands, “-I desperately need a bath. I’ll get out of your way. See you tomorrow morning?”

“If you want.” You followed behind him, trying your hardest to keep the hope out of your voice.

“Of course, I want to see you tomorrow.” He moved in quickly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you had time to protest. “Goodnight Blue.” With a smile and a wink, he’s gone.

Weeks passed, and it could not be said that Francisco Morales wasn’t a persistent man. No matter how hard you tried to hang onto that anger, he excelled in chipping away at it. He was true to his word about working on building back the trust that had been lost, spending any time away from his work with Carson split between you, and working on his house.

He’d become quite the handyman in his time away, and he showcased that in the work he did in both his house and yours. He’d noticed your laundry line had broken and fixed it aggravatingly quickly. He spotted a few leaky spots in your roof and had them fixed at no cost to you, making you wonder just how much money he’d made while away. Aside from the windows and the cleaning you’d both done at his place, he’d replaced the more rundown furniture, and while it was missing some of the personal touches of his mother–it was definitely comfortable and livable once again.

The intense loneliness and craving for intimacy had also hit you full force with his return. You found yourself thinking back to how things had been when you’d been young and wildly in love with each other. How his mouth had always found yours, how he seemed to need to be close to you, his arm often around your shoulder, his hand always finding a way to clasp yours.

It was worse at night when other memories floated out of the isthmus of your mind, filling it with the visions of him above you, his tongue in your mouth, and his cock deep inside. You’d been young but eager to explore one another, and he had been nothing if not resourceful in finding any and all opportunities to get you out of your clothing. Now, the days were filled with new tortures, and you found yourself feeling jealous of the beads of sweat that rolled down his back, envious of the way his shirts seemed to hold him so tightly.

The way his eyes tracked you didn’t help the situation; they were just as wild, just as beautiful, and just as open and honest as they’d always been. His desire for you shining out at you through their honeyed gaze.

He’d been busy that morning, well and truly the sheriff now, and with that came more time away, giving you, in turn, more time alone. Or so you’d thought. The knock was loud, solid, and instantly, you knew it was him. You groaned, staring at the perfectly steaming water of the tub surrounding you.

“Not now, Frankie!” You called out to him from the back of the house–hoping for a moment he’d let you enjoy the sweet steam surrounding you. His knock came again, and you huffed, stepping out of the oasis and wrapping yourself up in your dressing gown. “Frankie, I’m kind of in the middle of something–” You opened the door to him, and instantly, his gaze raked over you, no doubt seeing the way the damp fabric clung to your body, leaving nothing to the imagination. The dumbstruck look on his face filled you with such satisfaction that you let him look his fill before moving your eyes to bring his attention back up. “Can I help you with something?”

“Uh–” He stumbled for a moment, his eyes moving back down to where the gown split, to where your leg and most of your thigh peeked through. “Um–I uh…”

“...You…?”

“Um…Sorry. I brought you a gift.” He shook his head for a minute before decidedly looking you in the eye. “I remember I took your copy; brought you a new one.” He held the book out to you, and for a moment, you forgot to be alluring.

“Jane Eyre?” You grabbed the book, opening it up quickly.

“I remember you reading it to me; thought maybe I could read it to you sometime.” His dimple shined, and you couldn’t help but leap into his arms.

“Oh, Frankie, I love it! I have been looking for a copy forever!” You pressed your face into his neck and relished how tightly he held onto you in return, relished the feeling of his nose buried in the crook of your neck.

“God, Blue, you smell good enough to eat.” His words, his voice, they ran down your spine like a drop of ice on a hot day, hardening your nipples and making you ache for him. You pulled away, biting your lip as you stared at his mouth.

“You could come in… and read to me?” He smiled and closed the door. “I was just in the bath. I could get in and cover myself with a cloth. You could read to me while I bathe.” He nodded slowly, gulping before following you, making sure to grab a chair on his way.

“Give me one minute to get in.” You closed the door, heart thumping at how the colour had gone out of his eyes, leaving them blown black. Within a few tense moments, you were back in the tub with the hangover of the lining cloth covering you under the milky, soapy water. “Okay–come in.”

He looked almost pained as he pulled up the chair beside you, his eyes once again greedy in their quest to map whatever part of you he could see, which admittedly is more than you planned to show him with how transparent the lining is.

“Shall I start at the beginning?” He flipped open the book, but his eyes were still locked on you.

“Yes, please.”

“Very well.” He took a deep breath, and began, his deep, soothing voice the perfect accompaniment to the steaming water.

“Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day–Oh, sorry, I already read that.” You smiled to yourself, enjoying the way he couldn’t seem to focus, the way he kept losing his place, and admittedly, it took everything in you not to pull him into the tub with you.

“That’s okay. Can you help me with this?” You offered him the soapy washcloth, “My back? It’s so hard to get it on my own.” You batted your eyes at him, smiling the smile he’d never been able to resist, hoping it still worked its magic on him.

“Let me rinse my hands first. I don’t want to muddy up this paradise.” He knocked the chair over in his haste to reach the washbasin you had on the counter. By the time he was finished and righting his seat, he had shed his topmost layers and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his biceps.

You leaned forward, giving him access to the skin of your back and sighing at the closeness of him when he pressed the soapy cloth to it.

“God, I missed you, Blue.” He rubbed at your shoulders slowly, his other hand slipping around to hold the top of your chest, just beneath the dip at the bottom of your throat. “Missed touching you, feeling you, kissing you.”

Your eyes closed, and you thought surely he must feel the way your heart raced just under your skin when his fingers curled softly around your neck.

“Been dying to kiss you for years.” You felt then how the cloth had been discarded, and his bare hand spanned the smooth skin of your back, massaging at your shoulders and the top of your spine. “You ever miss me like that?” His voice was a soft rasp now, lulling you up and back into his hand, letting the linen go and looking up into his eyes.

“Yes–I do, Frankie–all the time.” You bit your lip, staring at his mouth as he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?” He moved forward an inch, leaning in as his hands worked their spell against your skin.

“Yes-” You barely whispered the word before he pressed his mouth to yours softly. It was tender and oh so familiar, the way his lips moved against yours, his tongue seeking entrance and gaining it just like he’d done so many times before. Your kiss was a dance, the steps of which neither of you had ever forgotten. It ached, the way his mouth claimed yours, and you couldn’t help but lean into him, to reach up and hold onto him as he groaned into the kiss.

“I have been dreaming about this since I left–” He spoke between kisses, pressing them to your face, before licking into your mouth once more, “Can I touch you?”

You nodded, chasing his mouth again. His hand slipped down, slick with soap, and then he held onto your breast, kneading one and then the other, his thumb strumming against the sensitive buds while your cunt leaked for him. His eyes moved, watching himself touch you, his lip caught between his teeth,and all of a sudden, it was too much, and you move, pulling away and standing, naked as the day you were born.

“Take me to bed, Frankie.” He stared up at you from his place on the chair, and from the look on his face, you’d think he was looking at an angel. It didn’t last, though; within seconds, he was up and pulling you out of the tub, practically dragging you towards your bedroom.

Your breath came out in a huff when you landed on your back, smiling breathlessly at the look of pure hunger on his face. He chewed his lip as he pulled off his layers, going through them quick enough that you genuinely worried he’d rip them. The water that had clung to your skin from the bath, now seeped into the sheets underneath you as you watched him undress.

“I’m so fucking hard for you, Blue.” He kicked his denim off, tossing everything every which way, “So hard it hurts.” His cock bobbed as he finally crawled his way over to you, and it was then that you saw it, a significant scar on his side, like a starburst. Your hand reached out, and you pressed your fingers to it, looking into his eyes for an explanation.

He pulled your hand up and kissed the tips of your fingers, “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” He continued his pilgrimage across your body, stopping only to kiss your sternum, your hip, and the soft skin of your belly. “I missed seeing you like this so much-“ he opened your legs, groaning at the way your cunt glistened for him. “-I missed how fucking wet you get, how good you taste-“ he barely finished speaking before he dove in, his tongue parting you further, gliding over your clit with desperation.

“I missed you-oh-“ his hands clutched at your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth, pulling the strings of your arousal to pool for his tongue. “That feels so fucking good, Frankie—“ Your hands found the short crop of his hair, unsure of whether you wanted to pull him up or grind against him. He huffed a cocky laugh into your skin, doubling his efforts and tightening his grip on your thighs, his fingers indented into the skin. The steady glide of his tongue against your clit, up and down, up and down, has you falling over the edge of the cliff and your thighs clamping around his head.

It didn't stop him; his tongue kept moving, slower as you rode out your high. He bit at the plump of your inner thigh as you relaxed, smiling and shiny with your arousal.

“I missed that too.” He moved, pressing his lips to your belly again, moving up and licking a hot stripe between your breasts before slotting his hips between your legs. His skin was so warm, so welcome, that you couldn’t help but sigh and pull him close, your fingers curling into his hair.

“I wanted you to come back so badly-“ You covered every inch of his face in kisses, “Wanted you to stay with me, love me like this.” You licked into his mouth, tasting yourself in the kiss.

“I’m here, Honey, I’ll never leave you again-“ You can feel just how hard his cock is as it pressed into your belly, the two of you clinging to one another in the dying light of the day.

“Promise me, promise me you won’t leave me.” You reached down and wrapped your hand around the sizable heft of him, stroking slowly while positioning him at your entrance.

“Fuck-I promise baby, I promise you-“ His sentence ended in a filthy moan as you pulled him in with your heels, pressing into the meat of his ass, finally having him inside you again after everything.

You moaned at the way he filled you.

The last fifteen years melted away, the long stretch of loneliness feeling more and more like a dream with every deep stroke of his cock.

There were no more words, only whimpers from you and deep groans from him. There was the rhythmic rocking of your bed and the slick sounds of him moving between your legs. His hips snapped faster and faster as he chased his release, burying his face into the crook of your neck to feed all the delicious sounds he made directly into your ear.

“I’m so close, touch yourself—“ his voice sounded wrecked, moving his hips like a piston, his cock kissing that one spot only he ever found. You obey and reach down to swirl your fingers around your clit, rocketing yourself closer to another, more intense orgasm.

He moved his face down, holding onto your breast to suck on your nipple, and then the dam broke, and you clenched around him, moaning his name as you reached your peak.

“Fuck, that’s it, that’s so good, oh god—I’m gonna come-“ his hips sped up, the wet sounds of his thrusts louder after your second climax. You opened your legs wide, giving him space to move, but he stayed put.

“Frankie-“ You started to speak, trying to guide him to spill on your belly; still, he didn’t move. Instead, he pushed in deep, groaning loudly, and it was with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you felt him twitch inside.

You were frozen in place, momentarily shocked into silence.

“God—I’ve been dreaming of that for years.” He sounded drunk, pulling out of you with a hiss to take a good look at his handiwork.

“Francisco, did you just do what I think you did?” Your tone was devoid of any sweetness. “Did you just spill inside me?”

“Yes—“ he frowned, confusion colouring his face along with the flush of his exertion, “—I thought you’d forgiven me? We’re together again-“

“And me forgiving you means risking a baby?” You pulled away, wiggling out from under him to grab a linen shift from your drawer.

“Wait, Blue, come back.” He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, “I’m sorry I didn’t think. It just felt right.”

“Of course it felt right to you. You have no regard for how I might feel.” Your anger burned through you, where once there had been passion, it was now replaced with fear. A deep fear that the next time he decided to up and leave, it might not just be you waiting for him.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart, that’s not true-“

“I’d like you to leave.” Hot tears flowed down your face at the thought of being pregnant with his child, and alone, waiting to see how long it took him to return the second time.

“Baby, please—don’t make me leave, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that—“

“Leave! I want to be alone. Please just–just go home.” You wiped at your eyes before crossing your arms, doing your absolute best to avoid his gaze. He sighed loudly, moving slowly to gather his things, stopping only to put on his pants and his shirt before tucking tail and heading home.

He’d fucking blown it.

By some miracle, he’d managed to get into her good books, his persistence and determination to show her just how madly in love with her he was–how in love with her he’d always been–weeks worth of it, and he’d messed up in a few minutes. A few glorious, amazing minutes.

He couldn’t help but groan in annoyance with himself every time he remembered it, the euphoria of being with her again, being inside her, of having her wet and needy and so eager for him only to get lost in it and risk a baby they hadn’t yet discussed. Hadn’t even really discussed getting married, not since he’d come back.

He didn’t even know why he’d thought it’d be okay. It had been purely instinctual but also irresponsible and disrespectful. It shamed him that he couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop craving it. He ignored it, though, continued on with showing her his reliability and hoped she understood that she was all he wanted.

Sleep eluded you for days, refusing to find you until the blood came. It wasn’t much better when it finally did, though. There was the initial relief, of course, there would be no child born out of wedlock, and you would not be treated like a pariah, but where did that leave you? He apologized for it, constantly. He groveled, he begged for your time and for your love and forgiveness, and it was his. It was there–ready for him, but the fear hid it away.

No matter how consistent he’d been in his time back, no matter how much he’d assured and explained that he wasn’t going to leave, it still felt like there was a clock ticking somewhere you couldn’t see, counting down the seconds until you’d be alone again.

You tried to focus on other things, filling your days with organizing your home, with clearing out things that no longer served you, things that you had brought over from when your mother died and had actively ignored or hidden away until genuinely forgotten. There were old, moth-eaten rags that had once been her clothes, a few books, and an old hairbrush. Amongst her things, though, was a bundle of paper, a fat wad of it.

Confused, you pulled it apart and very quickly realized that they were letters and they were addressed to you. It was jarring to see your name in Frankie’s script and harrowing to realize that you’d had them the whole time without knowing.

With shaking hands, you opened them one by one, and by the third, the tears obscured your vision.

My Dearest Bluebell,

I know you must be angry with me, things aren’t moving as quickly as they should, but this changes nothing–I’m still coming home to you–

He talked about his time in the war, about how differently they did things where he was, and about how much money he was saving, but between all that was the same promise of return. It was everywhere, that–and his pleas for a response from you.

Please sweetheart, I need to hear from you, please let me know you’re okay, and that you don’t hate me–

You sobbed into them. The words were like wounds, the pain of being alone for so long is even sharper now than it had been before. He had been true to his word, writing letter after letter without a single word from you, and despite the pain of knowing that fact, you read every single one. The dates were consistent, every week, almost like clockwork, except for once–when there were a few months between two letters.

Bluebell, my love,

I am okay–but I was hurt. I barely remember what happened, but one minute I’m in the middle of it, fighting, and the next minute I was screaming and then blackness, until I woke up in a hospital. Nurse says I’m lucky to be alive and that I’m going to be okay–

It was too much, all of it, and despite the fact that it was late and he was most certainly asleep, you had to see him.

The moon followed you on your walk towards his house, lighting the path and keeping you company. There was a soft glow shining out from one of his windows, and it inspired hope, making it easier to knock on the door despite the hour.

There was movement on the other side of the door, his heavy footsteps padding across the old floorboards.

“Who’s there?” Suspicion threaded thickly through his words, and you couldn’t blame him; this was no hour for anyone to come calling.

“I need to talk to you. Can I come in?” Your voice was shaky, the tears had abated while you made your way over, but the worried look on his face when he opened the door threatened to let them flow once more.

“What’s the matter? What happened?” He was shirtless, holding his pistol at his side while he looked beyond you to inspect the horizon. “Come in, come in—“ He closed the door behind you, setting the pistol down with a frown. “What’s the matter, Blue? Why are you out at this hour?”

��I—“ you choked on the word, clutching at his letters, “Frankie, I found them, my mother—“ you sobbed out words, choking on them before he sighed.

“Oh Honey, please don’t cry.” He gathered you up, pulling you into the strong cage of his arms, and it was like the floodgates cracked open wide. One palm held the back of your head, and the other was wrapped around your waist. “You didn’t know, it’s okay.”

“I, I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry,” your voice cracked with the agony of all of the lost years, “you wrote so many letters, and I never answered any of them, and you got hurt—oh god, you could have died!” It was hard to tell if you were screaming or sobbing anymore.

“Hey! Hey! Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” he rubbed your back, a soothing gesture, “Hey, stop, stop, take a deep breath, I’m fine. I survived. There was nothing you could have done. I know you would have written to me if you’d gotten my letters, if you knew.” He pressed his lips to your temple. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. I shouldn’t have left without you.”

“I should have known she’d do something like this. I–” You pulled away to look up into his eyes, “I am so angry at her. She let you carry on, just hid them without a care–even though she knew I was heartbroken.” You brushed his hair back before hugging him again.

“She never did like me. It was pretty cruel of her to do that to both of us.” He was being much more gracious about it than he should have, a testament to his love for you that he didn’t want to bash your mother despite the damage she’d done.

“Miserable old bitch.” You had no qualms about calling her what she was.

“Forget about her. It’s okay now. Thankfully, we’re together again.” He grabbed his pistol and led you further into the house.

Your fingers drew the shapeless pattern onto the warm skin of his chest for what must have been the hundredth time since the both of you tumbled into his bed an hour ago. It was still pitch black outside, the only light being a candle on his bedside. The sun would creep in soon enough, though, and when it did, it would find the two of you clinging to one another.

“I hate that you went through this alone.” Your fingers migrated down to the starburst on the side of his lower stomach, tracing the edges of it softly.

“I’m lucky, I made a full recovery.” His voice was soft, “I saw others get much worse.”

“That doesn’t minimize this, Francisco, you could have died out there, and I never would have known.” You squeezed your eyes together for a moment, ignoring the implications, “Can you ever forgive me? For not writing?”

“Only if you can find it in you to forgive me for being away so long and for what happened.” He pulled your hand up, pressing your knuckles to his lips.

“You’re forgiven for everything.” You frowned, “We hadn’t discussed our future, everything was still so up in the air, and I was terrified to get pregnant. Not because I don’t want to have your children, I was just terrified you'd leave me again and then I'd be here, alone and with a baby.” His face fell, guilt swirling around his features. “That was before. I believe you when you say you won’t and that you’re here for good.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, then to his lips.

“I understand why that would have scared you. I shouldn’t have done it without permission, though. It was careless of me.” He pulled you closer, relishing in the contact just like he had in the early days. There was a beat, a comfortable silence, and it stretched on for a while, the two of you content to lay there until the stiffness of your dress pulled you away. He helped you take it off until you were in your simple shift, and then you took your place beside him once more.

“Francisco?” You murmured, wondering if he’d fallen asleep.

“Yes?”

“I never said, but I’m sorry about your parents.” He’d been gone for years when they passed.

“Me too.” He didn’t say more, and you didn’t press. “You should get some rest. Will you stay with me?”

“Yes, I don’t want to go.” He got up for a moment, pulling the rest of his layers off before blowing out the candle.

“Good, I didn’t want you to leave.” He slipped into the bed, pulling his sheet over the both of you before pulling you in close. “Goodnight, Honey.”

“Goodnight, Frankie.”

The sun shone bright enough to shoo the last vestiges of sleep away. It found you warm and comfortable under the comforting weight of his arm over your belly and his leg tangled with yours. He looked younger, asleep and you could almost see him just as he was when he’d left, fresh-faced and eager to see and do as much as he could. That fire for life and all it entailed, burning brightly in every expression.

Your thumb traced the line of his jaw first, sweeping up his chin to glide across his pursed lower lip. He twitched but didn’t wake, only tightened his grip on you. Your thumb slid up, following the curve of his nose, up to smooth across his brow.

He stirred again, humming softly before pressing closer still, burying his face into the crook of your neck and tickling you with his moustache.

“Is it morning already?” His voice was sleepy but laced with pure joy.

“Yes, it is. How did you sleep?” Your tone matched his, his joy was contagious, hope and happiness swirling in the air much like the dustmotes that danced in each shaft of light. Your hands had migrated down, fingers flitting across his broad back, relishing every inch, every errant freckle.

“Better than I have in years. How about you?” His lips made their own pilgrimage, from just below your ear, down the column of your neck, and down to your shoulder; each press of his lips widening the smile on yours.

“I slept really well. I forgot how warm you get when you sleep.” He laughed at this, good-hearted.

“Good, means you don’t need to wear this–” His hands slid under your shift, grabbing greedily at your thighs, then your backside.

“Very clever. Don’t you need to get up and go to work, Sheriff? Or am I under arrest?” There was no real bite behind your words.

“Hmm, I don’t know, are you? Are you here to confess to a crime? Aside from stealing my heart, that is.” You let out a bark of laughter, rising slightly to let him take the shift off of you despite the game.

“Is that what I’ve done? Stolen your heart?”

“Oh yes, years ago. First day you smiled at me, come to think of it.” He nodded sagely for a moment before pressing his lips to yours softly, making you both melt and drip for him.

“Well then, I guess I deserve my punishment.” You reached down, shimmying out of your underthings to bare yourself to him. He bit his lip before dipping low to lick at the stiff peak of your breast, soft as his kiss, before taking your nipple into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks. You moaned, watching him enraptured.

“I’ll be just and fair.” He smiled, after letting go with a pop, moving to the next one to give it the same treatment. Your fingers curled into his short crop while your thighs pressed together to alleviate the aching at your core. He sucked harder, frantically, and then there was the edge of pain when he bit softly, making you gasp for a second before he once again soothed with his tongue.

“God, woman, you make me crazy.” His eyes were wild for a moment before he claimed your mouth again, his tongue plundering without mercy.

“I want you, Frankie–give it to me.” You reached down to grasp him in hand, but he moved away, denying you.

“I want to make you feel good. Let me taste you again.” He moved down, his lips mapping a course down to where you wanted him most.

“I want you, though, Frankie, want you to make me sore. You can use your mouth later.” You held your arms out to him, and although he stared at your mound with hunger, he obeyed.

You spread your legs for him, and he slots his hips, pulling your legs high onto his thighs for a moment before sheathing himself in you with one brutal, delicious stroke.

“God, Frankie, you’re splitting me open.” You moaned the words into his ear, and his head dropped into your neck, groaning at your words.

You reach down to hold onto his ass, grabbing onto it as he thrusts.

“You want me like this? Or you want me on my knees like you used to like?” You whispered, and he moaned, his hips stuttering for a moment before pulling out. It was the only answer you needed before you moved to get into position, presenting yourself to him.

His thighs pressed against the backs of yours, his hand landing heavy on one ass cheek before he entered you from behind. He felt deeper this way, hitting something otherworldly with each press.

“That’s my girl, you gonna take my big dick Honey?” You moaned into your forearm, arousal burning bright as a coal in the pit of your belly from his words, from the slick sounds of your joining, from the way your nipples grazed against his bedding.

He bent forward, pulling at your arms to hold them behind your back, and once he did, his efforts doubled. He was a piston, ramming into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make you scream for him.

He moved you again, pulling you up to meet the solid wall of his chest, his chin hooking over your shoulder, one hand holding onto your breast, the other sliding down to swirl around your clit, shoving you headlong into a blinding climax.

“That’s it, baby, God, I can feel you squeezing my cock. Where do you want me to come? Can I come on your ass?” His words sounded frantic, and you nodded, barely whispering the words.

“Yes, Frankie–” He let you go, and you pressed your face into the mattress once more, spreading your legs a little wider before you felt him pull out, feeling the way his hand grabbed and spread you open while the other one pumped between your legs. You felt the hot spurt of him on the cheeks of your ass and the small of your back just as you heard the filthy groan he let out.

You both caught your breath for a moment, riding the wave of release before he moved and within a few minutes, he passed a cool, wet cloth across your skin, cleaning his mess off before discarding it and falling into bed beside you.

There was sweat on his brow, there was sweat on yours, too, but it didn’t matter, the euphoria was rich and sweet as fresh cider.

“I missed you so much, Frankie.” You turned to face him fully, the two of you naked and comfortable.

“I missed you too, Honey.” He pulled you close, wrapping you up in his arms, where you belonged.

–

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie x reader #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #francisco x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier au #tp au #frankie x f!reader

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thot-of-khonshu · 4 months

Text

All Access, Chapter 1

All Access Masterlist | Ko-Fi | A03 Link

Pairing: 70s rockstar! frankie morales x f! reader

Rating: 18+ (explicit, minors do not interact)

Word Count: 6.4K

Content: explicit drug use, heavy partying, triple frontier as rockstars, eventual smut, 1975 au

A/N: Thank you so so so much to my beta readers @heythere-mel, @proxima-writes, @nostalxgic, and @pedropascal-whore I am so insanely, eternally grateful you have no idea! Thank you to anyone who has been waiting for this story since it was just a random idea in 2022. I hope you all enjoy it and it makes you sing as loudly as Santiago.

TRIPLE FRONTIER: FROM BATTLEFIELDS TO CENTER STAGE

As the dust of the Vietnam War settles, a new sound emerges from its ashes. Four war veterans—Santiago, Benny, Will, and Frankie—unite under a new banner, Triple Frontier, capturing the soul of a generation seeking peace, love, and rock 'n' roll.

Triple Frontier's latest self-titled album strikes a chord with raw passion and unflinching honesty of their previous work. We can trace their meteoric rise in the music world back to their time serving together in the Vietnam War, an experience that has left an indelible mark on each member and seeps into every note they play.

At the forefront is Santiago Garcia, the charismatic lead singer with vocals matched only by his charm and stage presence; Behind Santiago, Benny Miller lets loose on the drums, laying down the heartbeat of their sound. Will, Benny's older brother on lead guitar, is the soul of the band. He's intuitive and artistic with the guitar akin to Robbie Robertson.

And then there's Francisco Morales on bass. The stoic backbone of the group, his basslines are more than just musical notes—they're lifelines. His bass weaves the music together like a thread that ties each member of the band.

Tom Davis, their manager, has been instrumental in their rise. A fellow vet, he understands their shared history and has transformed their raw, visceral tales into a finely-tuned musical odyssey. Speaking about their journey, Tom says, "These boys have stories that the world needs to hear. I'm just helping amplify their voices."

The band's name, Triple Frontier, references the tri-border area in Southeast Asia—a location many veterans from the Vietnam War will recognize.

Despite the weight of their past, or perhaps because of it, Triple Frontier brings a refreshing authenticity to the rock scene. Their music isn't just entertainment; it's a balm, a therapy, a reminder of the indomitable human spirit.

As they gear up for their nationwide tour, one thing's for certain: Triple Frontier is here to stay, and they're just getting started.

Despite your boss stating he just needed a simple puff piece about Triple Frontier, whenever you reread that review you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride when you saw your name in print in Rolling Stone. It wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

You were on the fast track to doing something big at Rolling Stone by the time you were thirty, you could just feel it. After freelance writing post graduation from college, you landed an entry-level job at the magazine. You knew what you were getting into, the long hours and the male-dominated office could be a lot at times, but you were living the dream as far as you were concerned. To write about music and make it your living was a gift you never wanted to take for granted.

It was a Tuesday afternoon and you were done at work surprisingly early. You lugged your 1969 Dodge home and immediately went to the back patio to light a joint. You slunk back in your chair, inhaling deeply from the joint, and watched the sun dip lower behind the tree line; the warm glow of the Los Angeles sunset never got old. As the smoke filled your lungs, you felt the day slowly dissipate.

The sound of your phone ringing jolted you out of your high-induced stupor but you heard your roommate Jenna flit across the house and yell "I'll get it!" before answering. You took another deep pull off the joint and exhaled, watching the smoke dance around the sky as it faded out.

You heard Jenna call your name from inside. You walked into the kitchen and saw her standing with the phone receiver in her hand, she was looking at you with an expectant expression.

"Who is it?" You asked.

"Some guy named Tom Davis? Sounds foxy." She grinned at you and wiggled her eyebrows. You rolled your eyes and swatted her away before taking the phone from her.

"Hello?"

"Hey! I hope you don't mind me calling you at home. Your work number was listed in the phone book, but I didn't know if you'd want to take this call in the office or not. Figured home was probably better."

You had talked to Tom a month back for the Triple Frontier article. You remembered him as a no-nonsense type of guy who didn't beat around the bush, so you knew even though he was calling you at home it wasn't for a dinner party.

"No, that's okay. What can I do for you? I hope the article came out okay?"

"That's actually why I'm calling, I wanted to thank you again for doing such a great job. The guys really loved it and the boss did too. And we've had some new interest in the band and they think an interview series might be a good way to build some buzz during the tour."

You felt excitement bubble up in your stomach. You didn't want to be presumptuous and assume this was an offer, but you also didn't want to say no.

"I'd love to write more about them! I'm not sure if you just want a song by song review or..."

Tom chuckled on the other end.

"Nah, nothing like that. I know this is actually last minute but we're playing a show at the Troubadour on Friday night and we'd love for you to come. I've already cleared it with your editor at Rolling Stone if you're game."

You tried not to sound too eager. Of course you knew about the Troubadour show, it had been sold out for months. You knew this wasn't an easy ticket to score or an opportunity that just falls into your lap like this.

"I would be an idiot to say no."

"That's what I like to hear! I'll be in touch with more details, but I'll have your ticket and backstage pass ready for you on Friday night."

"Awesome, thank you so much."

"Thank you, we'll talk soon!"

He hung up the phone. You stood in the kitchen with the receiver in your hand. You felt like someone had just punched you in the gut, you couldn't believe it. The Troubadour, backstage passes, exclusive interviews... it was the break you'd been waiting for.

This was real rock journalism, the rock journalism your mom cried over when you said you wanted to move out west and pursue this as a career.

Will Mom still think you're dabbling with the devil if your name is under the biggest story for Rolling Stone with the hottest band in the country?

-------------------------

By the time Friday night rolled around, you felt like you had a permanent case of butterflies in your stomach. It wasn't often you had the opportunity to attend a show and not write about it, so the fact that you had no other reason for going besides seeing the band was enough to set your nerves on fire. But meeting them?

You'd spent the whole week building scenarios in your head - Would these guys even take you seriously? Would they see you as just another fan? Were they even that interesting to interview, or were their music and looks all there was to them?

You shook the thoughts from your head as you walked up to the Troubadour. The line outside was already around the block and you could feel the energy from the crowd. You saw women with long hair down their backs in tight jeans and crochet tops, some men with hair even longer than theirs and dressed in flared pants and vibrant shirts. You could already smell the weed wafting off some people.

As you approached the bouncer at the back door, he glared at you, intimidating and unwavering.

"I'm here to pick up a press pass from Tom Davis." You tried to exude confidence, even though you felt the opposite. He arched his brow at you before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a paper.

"Name."

You gave him your name and also added what you thought would cement your legitimacy. "I'm with Rolling Stone."

He looked over the paper before his eyes settled on your face.

"Right. This way."

The man turned and opened the door behind him, beckoning for you to follow.

Once inside, he led you through the dimly lit back corridors of the club. You were immediately welcomed into a heavy musk of smoke and sweat. You passed other roadies carrying guitars, amps, and microphones. You felt the excitement rising up again and you had to remind yourself to act cool.

He led you into a dressing room with a large group of people. Everyone had drinks in their hands and seemed to be chatting amongst themselves. The walls were covered in posters and various band members from over the years had scrawled their names on the walls where Tom was seated, reading over a sheet of paper.

"There she is! Good to see you." Tom immediately spotted you from the crowd, his tall and imposing figure stood up and made his way over to you. He was wearing a black leather jacket and his hair was pushed back with gel. He looked every bit the rocker, and you couldn't help but wonder if he always dressed like that. With the band but not in the band.

He reached into his back pocket to pull out a laminated press pass. "Here you go, this should get you access to whatever you need."

You took the press pass and held it up, smiling. You were still in shock.

"I can't thank you enough, Tom. This really is an honor."

Tom chuckled and clapped a hand on your shoulder. "Honor's ours. We're looking forward to the piece."

"Speaking of pieces, If you're gonna write about the band you might as well meet them. Come with me."

He started making his way toward the back of the room. As he passed, the people parted to let him through. You followed closely behind, trying to not lose him.

He led you towards a cluster of men in the corner. They were talking amongst themselves, beers in hand and laughing. You recognized Benny–the drummer–from the album cover, by his shaggy, dirty blonde hair. He was bouncing off the soles of his feet, drumsticks tucked in his belt loop, and was the center of the circle.

Will was leaning against the wall, his long blonde hair tucked in a bun. He had a cigarette dangling between his lips and a guitar pick in his hand, fiddling with it.

Next to Will, Santiago was sitting on a couch, his arm draped over the back with a glass tumbler in his other hand. His eyes shined as he was talking to the other boys, taking his hand to smooth out his jet-black hair.

It was true what every girl said - his pants were as tight as his voice.

And then there was Frankie.

He was standing next to Santiago, a beer bottle hanging loosely from his fingertips. He was leaning on his elbow on the wall behind Santiago, listening to Benny.

He was handsome. His brown hair was covered in his signature baseball cap, and the stubble along his jaw along with his mustache gave him a rugged look. You couldn't help but notice the muscles underneath his thin shirt. You could see his arms flexing underneath the material, his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of his beer.

He was the first one to notice you, looking at you before he did Tom. His eyes were dark and unreadable, but you could tell he was assessing the situation.

"Boys," Tom boomed, "I want you to meet the writer from Rolling Stone."

Santiago and Will turned their heads in unison, but Frankie's eyes stayed fixed on you.

Santiago's smile broadened, and Will raised his eyebrow and nodded. Frankie's expression didn't change.

"Well, hey, welcome to the party." Santiago stood up and extended his hand. You reached out and took his, shaking it. His hand was soft and his grip was firm.

"Nice to meet you." You tried to sound confident.

"You've already met Tom, obviously," he gestured towards Tom, who smiled at you, "and this is Will and Benny, and that's Frankie."

Benny smiled at you, and Frankie's eyes flickered over to Santiago as he said his name, but he didn't speak. You had a feeling this was his way of letting everyone else talk.

"Nice to meet you all, I'm a huge fan." You offered them a friendly smile.

Benny spoke up, "Well then, I like you already. You'll make us look good!"

Tom looked down at his watch and then snapped up at the guys. "Shit–we have ten minutes before showtime, you guys need to get down to the stage."

They started moving and shuffling: Will stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, Benny put down his beer, and Santiago tossed back his drink. Frankie had disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to watch them all go by.

Tom turned back to you, "What are you doing? You're going down with us. ‘Can't write about the show if you aren't there."

You felt the rush of adrenaline surge through your body. Your face broke out into a huge grin.

"Yeah, right. Okay."

Tom smiled and turned, heading for the door. You followed him, trying to keep up with his strides. Backstage was a flurry of activity and you felt like you were on a hamster wheel trying to stay out of the way. You couldn't help but stare at the scene before you, the lights and the sounds, the smell.

After navigating through the throng of people and equipment, you found yourself on the side of the stage, the lights dim and the sound of the audience humming through the floorboards. While Tom had stopped to talk with one of the lighting guys, you could see the boys getting into their instruments and tuning up.

You looked over and saw Frankie. He had taken off his hat and was carding his hand through his thick hair. His mouth was turned down into a frown, but you could see the glimmer of his eyes.

He looked up at you. Your breath hitched and you could feel your cheeks start to burn. He held your gaze for a moment before turning away and putting his hat back on.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed and the audience erupted in cheers. The guys, including Tom, went into a huddle and you slowly inched yourself closer, not wanting to miss this moment.

You heard Benny shout, "Let's get it done tonight, boys! Let's give the fans what they came for."

You could see Santiago's grin spread across his face, "This is our mission. Our job. Our purpose."

Tom placed his hand into the middle, "I'm proud of you, boys. Now, let's go fucking rock this shit."

They put their hands together and Santiago began to sing "Stop, hey, what's that sound..."

Like a ritual, the rest of the men in the circle sang "Everybody look what's going down."

With that, the boys dispersed and you felt so lucky to be in that moment. You feel their connection, their comradery, their love.

You saw Tom pat Benny on the back. "Showtime!" he boomed. Benny ran onto the stage and the crowd roared. You could hear the clatter of sticks in the air as Benny hit the cymbal to start playing their song "Echoes".

The rest of the guys filed onto the stage and you were immediately struck by the sheer energy radiating off the crowd. They were cheering, clapping, dancing. There was so much movement and excitement and you felt the hairs on your arms stand up.

The band started their set with a bang. You watched as Santiago worked the crowd, his voice smooth and strong. He walked slowly, confidently, swaying with every step. The crowd was eating out of the palm of his hand.

You'd never experienced a concert like this, being able to watch from the sidelines and take in everything. The lights, the sound, the way the crowd responded.

Your eyes drifted to Frankie. He was focused and precise with his guitar, his hands moving effortlessly across the strings. You watched the muscles in his arms flex and strain as he played along with the concentration in his eyes.

The rest of the concert flew by. Before you knew it, the band was finishing up their final song, and the crowd was going crazy. You watched as Santiago, Frankie, Benny, and Will took their final bows.

The audience screamed. Santiago leaned over and spoke into the microphone, "Los Angeles, thank you. We love you! Goodnight!"

And with that, the lights dimmed and the guys filed off stage. Tom turned and motioned for you to follow as he led you to a different area where the guys were drinking bottles of water and catching their breath.

Benny was sweating, his face flushed red. "Man, we really fucking killed it."

Santiago grinned, wiping his brow. "You bet your ass we did. That was one of the best shows we've done."

Frankie was leaning against the wall, a bottle of water in his hand. He was drinking it slowly, his eyes looking up and meeting yours.

Will looked over at you and gave you a wink. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Oh my god, yes. That was incredible." You were trying to be professional, but your excitement was starting to show through, an excitement that Santiago could start to see through.

Santiago clapped his hands together. "Excellent. Now that we've broken your legs, I think it's time for the afterparty. Are you coming with us?"

"The afterparty?"

"Of course," Tom chimed in, "you don't have to go, but it might give you some time to chat with the guys more and get some quotes. These things tend to be a good time so I can also book you a room, on us. It's at the Chateau Marmont."

"Holy shit."

"That's the spirit." Santiago winked.

You hesitated, knowing how big a decision this was. The idea of the afterparty excited you, but it was also a chance to spend more time with these guys. To talk to them one-on-one and maybe get some insights that would really sell the article.

You took a deep breath and looked around the room, at the guys waiting expectantly.

"Alright, count me in."

You could have sworn you saw Frankie's lip twitch up into a smile.

-------------------------

The afterparty was at a bungalow at the Chateau Marmont and it was a mess of people, noise, and debauchery. You tried to take it all in but you just couldn't. There was too much happening at once.

You found a bar top to sit at, watching the scene unfold. Santiago was at the piano playing some old jazz tunes and laughing with gorgeous women surrounding him. Tom was chatting up some record exec, a scotch in his hand. You even saw Benny and Will having an impromptu arm wrestling match in the corner. Frankie so far wasn't anywhere to be found.

The music, the lights, the alcohol. All of it was almost overwhelming and you were starting to wonder why you decided to come.

This world of excess and debauchery was so foreign to you, a far cry from the quiet solitude of your apartment where you usually did your writing. You've been to parties but nothing like this. You thought about your male coworkers at Rolling Stone, who seemed to fit seamlessly into the rock and roll lifestyle, effortlessly bonding with their subjects over shared experiences and unspoken understandings.

You focused on scribbling notes in your notebook, trying to make sense of the chaos around you and organize your thoughts about the concert. The more you wrote, the more your head cleared, and you found yourself able to better compartmentalize everything you'd experienced.

As you were finishing up your notes, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Hey."

You turned and saw Santiago standing behind you. He had a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand and his eyes were slightly bloodshot.

"Hey." You replied.

He moved to stand beside you, looking at the party in front of you.

"What are you doing over here by yourself? Having fun?" He asked, taking a swig of the whiskey.

You shrugged, "I guess I just wanted to take everything in, get a feel of the scene. "

"Through your notepad?" He asked, gesturing towards your notes.

"Yeah, uh, it's easier for me to write things down."

"Ah," he took another swig, "can I ask you a question?"

You looked up at him. He was staring down at you, a smirk on his face.

"Sure."

"Why do you wanna write a story about us?"

It wasn't the question you were expecting. You had prepared for a list of generic questions like how you got into writing and your favorite bands, but this one caught you off guard.

"Because..." You hesitated, not sure how to answer, "...because I think you guys are cool."

Santiago smirked, leaning in.

"Cool? That's it?"

"Yeah," you said, feeling slightly defensive. "I think you guys have something special."

He chuckled to himself, taking a joint from a walking passerby, and taking a hit. "That's what they all say."

"All who?"

"People, the press. They all want to write a story about the cool, rebellious, rock and roll band, but the thing is, no one ever actually gets it."

"Maybe because the people who write about you are only interested in the glamorous lifestyle and not the reality of it."

He cocked his eyebrow.

"The reality?"

"Yeah," you said, closing your notebook. "I don't want to write a story about what I see here. This is a party, a show. It's not what's real."

Santiago studied you for a moment, and you felt the tension in the air between you. It was as if he was trying to read you, to figure out what made you tick.

"I'm here to witness the magic, the brotherhood. You can feel the bond between you guys: it's real, it's tangible, it's magnetic. People come to see your shows to see it. Shit, people come to the Chateau Marmont at 1 AM to see it. People want more."

You met his gaze, unwavering. You weren't going to back down.

He laughed, taking a step back. "Okay, okay. I believe you."

You smiled, relieved.

"But I'm gonna let you in on a little secret…Tom? He's over the moon, hunky fuckin' dory that you're writing this piece, but the truth is? We're a little skeptical, a little worried. We wanna look good but we also don't want this to be a puff piece. You've convinced me though, I believe you when you say you wanna do something different. So here's the deal - if you want the real story, the one that matters, you need to prove it."

You swallowed.

"And how do I do that?"

He smirked, gesturing to the crowd. "Come hang with us, chill out, see how we are when it's just us. If you can do that, I'll tell you whatever you wanna know. If you wanna get to know the real us, you gotta dive in."

Santiago offered you the joint, and you took it from him, putting it to your lips and inhaling.

He grinned. "Welcome to the team."

You hesitated for a moment. You wanted to get the real story, the one that mattered, but you were afraid. What if you didn't fit in? What if the guys didn't like you?

But Santiago had a point. You needed to prove yourself, and what better way than by actually hanging out with the band?

So you sucked it up, took a long drag off the joint, and threw caution to the wind.

----------------------------------

You weren't sure how much time had passed, but the party was still in full swing. The doubts and fears that plagued you had floated away along with your sobriety. Santiago had been a great host, introducing you to people, making sure you had a drink in your hand, and keeping the conversation going. You'd lost track of how many drinks you'd had, but you were feeling good.

He'd also gotten you better acquainted with Will and Benny. Will was reserved but he was incredibly knowledgeable about music, and you spent most of your conversation talking about some of the more obscure bands you both liked in common. With Benny, he was the life of the party. He had an infectious smile and was quick to laugh.

Frankie was another story entirely.

Frankie had eventually been found at the party but he'd stayed off to the side, talking quietly with a group of people, occasionally smoking a cigarette or sipping from a glass. You watched him throughout the night.

He'd glance at you from time to time, his eyes dark and unreadable. His gaze would linger, sending shivers down your spine. You would try to catch his eye, but he'd look away before you could make contact.

A model that you recognized from a cover of Cosmopolitan pulled out a baggie of coke and offered some to everyone at the table. You politely declined and headed for the bathroom.

You walked around the hallway and saw a few sets of doors. You opened a door to see Tom sitting on the bed, the phone cord stretched across the room.

"Of course I'm thinking about this damn offer, it's all I can think about. Fuck, I just don't know if this is the right move. If I had another band under my roster the boys would kill me, but the money they're offering? It's the kind of money we can't turn down."

You tried to back out of the room quietly, but sobriety be damned, the heel of your shoe clicked loudly on the hardwood floor as you tripped. Tom turned, his eyebrows raised and his expression a mixture of surprise and concern.

You mouthed an apology and quickly made your way out of the room. Humiliation and embarrassment flooding through you, you decided you needed some air.

You made your way outside, the cool air hitting your face. You inhaled deeply, trying to clear your mind and slow your racing heart. You only had a bit of context but you knew that wasn't a conversation you were supposed to hear.

You sat down on the ground, resting your head against the wall. You could feel your body relax, the tension easing from your shoulders.

As you closed your eyes, the events of the evening replayed in your head. The music, the energy, the excitement.

Suddenly, you felt someone sit next to you. You looked over and saw Frankie, his expression still unreadable.

"Hey."

"Hi." You tried to sound casual, hoping the high pitch in your voice didn't sell you out.

He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling slowly. The smoke curled in the air, dancing in the breeze.

You sat in silence for a moment, watching the smoke drift away, trying to distract yourself from the man in front of you.

"Having fun?" Frankie's voice was low and husky, his question caught you off guard. "What do you think of all of this so far?"

"It's definitely not what I'm used to."

He chuckled, and you couldn't help but smile. He took another cigarette from the carton, offering one to you.

You took the cigarette from him and he lit it, the flame flickering in the darkness. You felt the smoke fill your lungs.

"What are you used to then?" He asked, his eyes locked on yours.

"Lighting a joint at the end of a long day, writing a draft for an article, and throwing it in the trash. Sitting at home alone and wondering if I'm ever gonna break out."

Frankie smiled. "We're not what you expected, huh?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Not at all."

You took another drag of the cigarette. The combination of weed, whiskey, and nicotine was making your head spin, and you couldn't stop the giggle that escaped your lips.

Frankie smirked.

"Lightweight."

You nodded, leaning your head against the wall. You looked over at Frankie, his profile illuminated by the moonlight. He was handsome, his jawline sharp and his lips full. His hair was tousled under his hat and his stubble was perfectly trimmed. You could see the muscles in his arms flex as he brought the cigarette to his mouth, and you felt your breath hitch.

You looked away, feeling a blush creep up your neck. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol, the drugs, or his presence that was making you feel so flustered.

"What are you doing out here anyways?" You asked, trying to distract yourself from the butterflies in your stomach.

Frankie shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching. "I could ask you the same question."

You laughed, the alcohol and weed finally settling in.

"I was feeling a bit overwhelmed, I needed some fresh air."

Frankie nodded, understanding. "I'm not really one for big parties."

"Is that why you weren't around earlier?"

He gave you a curious look. "You really are quite the observant reporter."

You grinned. "I'm a professional."

He smirked, your gaze turning back to the sky. You couldn't help but feel his eyes linger on your skin, you felt like you were burning up.

"I'm just not a huge fan of the crowds. I like the music, the shows, but the parties are sometimes too much."

"I can understand that."

"Can you?"

You looked at him, surprised by his question. "Of course."

He raised his eyebrow. "How so?"

You shrugged. "I've had my share of experiences. Not quite like this, but enough that I get it. Sometimes I'd rather just sit back with a joint and observe it all."

Frankie's lips twitched into a small smile. "Me too."

You couldn't help but smile back. He seemed much less guarded now.

You took another drag of your cigarette; the smoke swirling around the two of you.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Frankie glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twitching again.

"Sure."

"What brought you into music? How'd you end up here?"

He considered your question for a moment, tapping the ashes of his cigarette.

"Well, I just always loved music. I was a quiet kid and my parents weren't around a lot. Santi moved to Miami when we were eight and we just immediately hit it off. Whatever he did, I did. If he joined the baseball team, I joined the baseball team. And then he started playing guitar. We'd sit in his garage for hours and play. I never knew I wanted to be a musician until then. It just felt right."

He paused, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"How'd you get into journalism?"

You froze. The truth was, you had no idea. You just always felt drawn to writing. You had a knack for it and it came easily to you. You never had any grand plan or vision, it was more like a calling.

"I guess I just felt called to it. I was always writing stories as a kid and then I wanted to write about real people and real stories."

He studied you, his eyes searching yours.

"So far, do you like my story?"

You grinned, "I don't know your story yet."

He smiled, exposing a dimple as you felt your heart skip a beat.

"It's been a long time since I've actually talked to someone like this."

"Me too."

There was a moment of comfortable silence. You could hear the sounds of the city around you, the cars honking, the music and laughter drifting from inside. Suddenly, you heard the door open and Tom stepped out.

"Some chick from Apple Records just threw up on my Italian boots. This is a disaster."

Frankie rolled his eyes. "You've had worse, Tom."

Tom groaned. "I'm gonna call it a night. You guys have that radio station interview tomorrow and I need to get ready for it in the morning."

"I should probably get some sleep too." Frankie stretched out and yawned, his shirt riding up and exposing a strip of skin above the waistband of his jeans.

You felt your mouth go dry and quickly looked away.

"Did you get the room key I left for you?" Tom asked you. "We rented out the whole second floor, so you've got your pick of rooms."

"Yeah, thanks." You dug into your back pocket, pulling out the key.

"I gotta clean this shit up so I'll see you guys in the morning."

He retreated away from the cottage, leaving you and Frankie alone once more.

You stood, dusting off the back of your pants. "I guess I should get some sleep, I'm pretty wasted."

"I'm heading up myself, so I can walk you to your hotel room."

"Oh, okay." You said in a high-pitched tone.

"Unless you don't want me to."

"No! No, I want you to, I just wasn't sure if you wanted to say goodnight to the guys?"

"They're honestly too fucked up to remember anything right now. Besides, I'd rather make sure you get there safe."

You blushed, the alcohol and weed still affecting you. "Thanks."

You and Frankie made your way back into the main building, the party still raging on from the cottage nearby. While you walked through the halls and into the elevator, you marveled at the luxury of the famous chateau. You'd heard so many stories but to say you'd gone to a party there, even for a couple of hours, was something you’d never forget.

The two of you got into the elevator, and you were acutely aware of Frankie's presence. He was tall–at least a foot taller than you–and his shoulders were broad and muscular. You could smell his scent, a mixture of spice, nicotine, and citrus.

The both of you got off on the second floor, walking silently down the hallway. The hotel was dark and quiet; it was as if the rest of the world had faded away.

You reached your room, fumbling with the key and unlocking the door.

"This is me."

Frankie nodded. "Good night."

You stepped into the room and turned around, watching as he walked away.

"Good night."

You watched him disappear around the corner, the butterflies in your stomach erupting again.

Once the door had shut behind you, you exhaled a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You were still buzzing from the alcohol and the pot but there was something else, an energy that you hadn't felt before.

You stripped off your clothes, letting them pool on the floor, and crawled into the bed. As you drifted off, you felt yourself smile.

-------------------------

You were jolted awake by the shrill ring of the hotel telephone. Before you could even think, your head was already pounding from last night and its excess. You squinted at the clock next to you, the bold white words focusing on 9:30 AM.

"Hello?" Your voice was hoarse and still heavy with sleep.

"Morning! It's Tom." Tom sounded surprisingly chipper given last night's circumstances with his Italian shoes. Not one to beat around the bush, he started, "I have a proposition for you."

You were instantly alert, sitting up straight in the bed. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"I had a long talk with Santiago this morning. About you."

You swallowed nervously. You knew that whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

"Okay.."

"He told me that you really want to tell the real story of the band, that you want to get to the bottom of who we are."

You paused, considering your words carefully.

"That's correct. I think there's more to your story, more than meets the eye."

"That's exactly what I thought, which is why I have an offer for you."

You held your breath. You didn't want to seem eager but you couldn't help the excitement building inside of you.

"I'm listening."

"Rolling Stone wants an in-depth piece, right? Well, what better way to get that than by joining us on tour?"

Your heart skipped a beat as his words sunk in.

"You mean..go on tour with you guys? Be a part of the band?"

"It's the only way to really understand us, right? Get into our world, our culture, and experience it for yourself. I already pitched it to your editor and he said as long as the label pays for expenses and you're game, he's game."

You were astounded at the things that Tom Davis could get done before noon.

"But..how would that work? Where would I stay? I don't have any experience touring or writing on the road."

You took a deep breath, processing everything Tom had just told you. "I'd be lying if I said that this wasn't an incredible offer."

"An incredible offer you can't refuse?"

You couldn't help but smile, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. "An incredible offer I can't refuse."

Tom let out a hearty laugh, "That's what I like to hear! Look, we've already discussed it amongst ourselves, and as for accommodations, we're a tight-knit group, we always look out for one another. You'll have a place to crash every night, always a nice hotel to stay in."

Your mind was racing with possibilities. The chance to immerse yourself in their world, to witness their artistry up close and personal—it was an opportunity unlike any other. "What about interviews? Will I have unrestricted access?"

Tom nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. We want this to be as authentic as possible. You'll have full access to everyone in the band, backstage, on the bus, wherever we go. Just promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"Promise me you won't hold back. We want the real story, the gritty details, the highs and lows of life on the road. Don't sugarcoat anything."

You nodded with determination. "I promise, Tom. I'll give it my all."

"Good," he said with a satisfied smile. "I have a feeling you're going to fit right in."

As you pressed down on the end call button, a surge of adrenaline shot through your veins. This was it - the opportunity to delve deep into the core of the band and capture their raw energy in words for all to experience. Just thinking about it made your heart race, and as you thought of Frankie, you felt an unfamiliar warmth in your belly.

You'd have a new adventure ahead of you, one that would change your life forever.

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pimosworld · 2 months

Text

Unrequited

adjective; (of a feeling, especially love) not returned or rewarded.

Pairing -Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Francisco Morales

CW-18+,NSFW,MDNI, Angst, hurt/comfort, lovers to enemies to friends, friends to lovers, PTSD, mentions of addiction, therapy,canon typical violence,depression, anxiety, smut, m/m, m/m/f, eventual poly relationship, alcohol consumption,infidelity,unprotected piv,oral f receiving, oral m receiving, marriage proposal(s)

A/N- Based on this drabble, I can’t get enough of Santi and Frankie but I’ve always wanted to explore how Frankie would be the one who couldn’t commit or settle down after the events in Colombia.

Series Masterlist

Chapter I-Lovesick

Chapter II-Pining

Chapter III-Yearning

Epilogue

#frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia x francisco morales #santiago garcia x f!reader x frankie morales #santiago garcia x f!reader #frankie morales x reader smut #santiago garcia smut #frankie morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #oscar issac characters #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier au #francisco morales x reader smut #frankie morales fanfic #santiago garcia reader #santi x reader #triple frontier moodboard

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 7 months

Note

Can you pls write vampire!frankie smut. I want him to drink reader's blood while he fucks her, but the rest is up to you 🩷

Sorry this took so long my love <3 But here it is!!

Thank you @wannab-urs for beta-ing!!

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog that writes porn with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.

Specific Warnings: Vampire sex, Vampire bites, Unprotected PiV (sort of), deception, vampire vibes, oral F receiving, biting, vampire bites. Let me kow if I missed anything! [Ao3]

[part two here!]

Hurt so Good - Reader x Vampire!Frankie.

You sit at your favourite booth, sitting so you face the door. Your nerves spiking every time the door opens. You play with the gaudy, expensive engagement ring on your finger as a way to distract yourself. But you can’t stop thinking about what you’re about to do. Tristan is late, as always, and you’re starting to wonder if he’s even coming at all.

You almost regret putting on the low-cut maroon dress that shows your body off in a was that is almost depraved. But the looks you’re getting from some of the other patrons give you a rush like nothing you’ve ever felt from Tristan. You play with the stem of your glass, your favourite cocktail long gone, but you can’t bring yourself to get another drink.

The door opens and your head perks up, but it’s not him. The well-built stranger is the polar opposite of Tristan, broad shoulders, dark curly hair, dressed in a flannel and jeans, a navy baseball cap tight on his head. His facial hair is patchy and starting to grey in places. You can’t help but stare as he takes a seat at the bar, you practically drool as you watch the flannel stretch across his back as he hails the bartender.

“Earth to space cadet, you there?” Tristan snaps his fingers at you as he speaks, pulling you out of your ogling and you look up to see his cocky grin plastered on his thin lips. His mousey hair gelled back, his hazel eyes cold and mocking as he waves his hand in front of your face.

“Oh hi, sorry I was just lost in thought,” You say with a shrug before realising you had nothing to apologise for, “You’re late.” You snap, remembering why you’re here.

“Sorry I got caught up at the-,” Tristan starts his usual line, and you grit your teeth, anger coursing through you at the same old excuses.

“At the office, yeah, yeah, the same old bullshit.” You snap, your tone sharper and voice louder than you’d intended. So loud in fact that the handsome stranger at the bar turns in your direction. His gaze lands on you and you make eye contact for a brief second and your heart flutters at the way he winks at you, his plush lips pulled up into a knowing smirk, making his cheek dimple deliciously.

“What the fuck babe? I provide for you and this is the thanks I get?” He snarls, his cocky demeanour replaced by the cold cruelty that you’ve only recently allowed yourself to describe it as.

“Provide for me? By stopping me chasing my dreams, keeping me at home so I can cook and clean for you for what? You to sexually harass your co-workers?” You blurt, wincing as you play your hand a little too early.

“Jesus Christ is this about that slut Jessica in the Boston office? Bitch came on to me. Fucking hell, I thought we were over this crap!”

“I spoke with Jessica, and Alice, and they both told me how you basically forced them to suck your dick, you should be charged with sexual assault you sick fuck.” Your temper is building, and you try to keep your tone of voice even but the look Tristan is giving you makes you snap.

“All this time you’ve been rejecting me, making me feel like I’m a whore just for wanting you, and you go and pull this shit?” You slam your hand down on the table, rage consuming you as the piece of shit sitting before you has the audacity to call one of the many victims of his sexual advances a slut.

“Stop it, you’re making a scene, let’s go home and talk about this.” You see the sweat beading on his forehead, his brow creasing as he looks around at the many faces now turned to look at him. But one face in the crowd is looking elsewhere.

The handsome stranger in that absurd baseball cap at the bar is giving you a look you could only describe as awe. His dark brown eyes glimmer in the low light and you feel heat rise up onto your cheeks as you watch them dip lower to your cleavage.

“I’m not going back to that house Tristan. I’m here to say we’re over, and my lawyer is going to be in touch, that prenup you got me to sign? You should have checked my amendments more thoroughly.” You say, leaning back on the bench, Tristan’s face is a picture, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to come up with something to say.

“Bitch.” Is all he manages as he storms out of the bar, phone to his ear as he slams the door on the way out. There’s a pregnant pause in the bar before people return to their evenings. You breathe a sigh of relief as you drop your head into your hands, your elbows resting against the table as you let out a small laugh.

The sound of heavy boots approaching makes you look up, your breath hitches in your throat as you see the handsome man from the bar, two beers in his one hand, thick fingers curled around the necks of the bottles.

Fuck, he’s even more handsome up close.

“Thought you might like a beer after that.” He says with a soft, rumbling voice that makes your heart flutter.

“Bold of you to buy me a drink.” You say, raising an eyebrow at him as he winces at your words.

“It’s the least you deserve for putting a predator like him in his place.”

“Shit you heard that?”

“Mhmm, I think the whole bar did.”

“Fuck.” You groan as you motion for him to sit with one hand, pinching the bridge of your nose with your thumb and forefinger of the other as you exhale heavily.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself sunshine, I think the whole bar would have cheered if you’d thrown a drink at him.”

“Too bad I drank it all, and sunshine? Really?” You scoff as you take a sip of beer, you don’t owe this man a thing, but a free drink is a free drink.

“Thought it fit, stunning but dangerous.”

God he’s smooth.

You hate admitting it but you would let this man take you home and show you a good time, even if it was just to rinse the proverbial taste of Tristan out of your mouth.

“Alright, I’ll bite, to whom do I owe the pleasure of sharing such a middling European lager with?” You raise your bottle in toast.

“I’m Francisco,” He says with a smirk, clinking his bottle against yours, “But my friends call me Frankie.”

----

It’s barely an hour later and you’re pressed against his door, tongues colliding messily as you tangle your fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck. His one hand holds you by the hip, pinning you to the door as the other cradles the back of your neck.

His lips are soft, plush, as they pull at your own. His moustache brushes against your skin, sending crackles of sensation racing through you. You’ve never been one for one-night stands but you’re willing to make an exception for the smooth-talking man with his hard dick pressed firmly against your thigh.

“Fuck,” Frankie grunts as he drops his head to your shoulder, his strong nose pressing against your pulse point as he inhales aggressively against your skin, “Smell so good sunshine, like honey and cream, can’t wait to taste you.” He growls as he licks a heavy stripe up the column of your neck, latching his lips onto your earlobe as he hitches your legs around his hips, walking you further into his apartment.

You shudder at his words and whine at the hungry growl that fills your ear as you steal glances around his apartment, clean, sparsely decorated, but it feels lived in. Before you can take in any more of his home, you’re in his bedroom. His large frame cages you in as he lies you down against the pillows.

“Shit, I’m sorry we were going to get a drink and talk,” He pants as he hovers over you, reining in some modicum of his desire as he kneels between your legs, one of his large hands coming up to brush a loose strand of hair out of your face, “You’re just intoxicating mi Sol.” He purrs as he shudders over you.

“We can talk over breakfast.”

You pull his cap off his head, incredulous that it's stayed on so long, and fling it off the bed before threading your fingertips through his hair. You ruffle the tight waves and Frankie groans as you scrape your fingernails along his scalp.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Frankie murmurs as he teases you, letting his body sink down into you, his eyes glisten as he runs his tongue along your bottom lip. You chase his mouth, but he pulls away, leaning back to pull off his flannel shirt. Soft tan skin, littered with scars, taut with muscle but undeniably soft make you keen. Your hips buck under him and he chuckles softly.

“Such a needy baby.”

“You’re telling me this isn’t needy?” You cock your head to the side as you palm his erection through his jeans and he rolls his hips forward with a groan.

“You got me there.” He glances down at you, his eyes suddenly flash with something deeper, more hostile than desire, as he cups your cheek. But it’s gone before you can truly register it. He dips his head down to your neck, sucking and licking your skin softly as he moves down your body.

“Let’s get these clothes off, yeah? Need to see you.”

It takes no time at all for you to strip each other of your clothes. Before you know it, you’re bare below him. His thick cock is erect as he kneels between your legs and it’s glorious. He pumps himself slowly as he lets his eyes wander over your naked body.

Fuck he’s gorgeous.

You think as you admire his sizeable dick, not too big, just right. Your mouth waters as you watch him pull his foreskin back, exposing his weeping, thick tip.

“So beautiful, like the sun herself.” He mutters under his breath as he lowers himself on the bed, nestling his broad shoulders between your pliable thighs. His lips drag up your thigh, seemingly savouring every inch of your skin. The tension in your core is almost painful as he licks and sucks your tender flesh. He pauses over a spot on your inner thigh and groans as he nips at the flesh.

“Fuck!” You cry out at the sensation, it burns like he cut you with something sharp. Then it fades into a warm, pleasant buzz and you forget all about the pain, mewling as his hot, wet mouth meets your glistening folds.

“Sorry that was a little hard, I’ll be more careful.”

You barely register his words as his tongue teases at your folds, causing your hips to cant up, chasing his tongue once more. This time he doesn’t pull away, he presses his strong nose against your clit and inhales, groaning loudly as his tongue breaches your entrance. The strong muscle teases at your entrance as his nose pressures your tight bundle of nerves.

“Absolutely delicious.” He groans as he moves up to your clit as he latches his lips around it, pressing languid strokes of his tongue against the swollen nub and you cry out another sharp scratch burns around your clit. You’re too blissed out to question it and you buck up unto his mouth.

“Mi Sol, you make it far too hard to show restraint.” Frankie growls as you look down at him, his eyes are almost black, and you roll your head back just a second too early. Frankie grins up at you, mouth bloody and fangs out before he takes your clit between his lips. You’re so wet, you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking horny.

“Frankie, need your fingers.” You whine, desperation thick in your voice as you feel the tightening in your core as you clench around nothing.

“Anything for you to keep making those sweet little noises.”

He breaches your wet heat with two fingers, sinking into you with ease. You’ve never been this wet, it drives you so close to the edge, the way his fingers fill you snugly as he laps wildly at your clit. You marvel at the fact that this may even be better than sex with your ex-girlfriend, something about the way Frankie devours you is beyond belief.

“Come for me, spill your nectar into my mouth.”

You come hard around his fingers. The strange choice of words somehow spurring your orgasm into an explosion of curled toes, quivering thighs, and strangled, wordless moans as you feel pleasure rip through you like a wild animal. Your blood sings in your veins, pleasure throbs through your arteries, like your heart is full of an aphrodisiac and with every pump you’re driven higher into oblivion.

“Good, such a good girl.” Frankie wheezes as he wipes his hand on the back of his mouth, wiping away any evidence of his affliction from his lips as he repositions over you, his thick tip notched at your entrance as you quiver through aftershocks.

“Frankie,” You groan, holding his face in your hands as your vision sharpens, all you can see, all you can feel, all you can think about his him. His patchy facial hair glistens and he smiles at you as he presses into you.

That’s when you see them, his fangs. They hang from his mouth like curved pearlescent daggers. Your eyes flick down to where you had felt the scratch on your thigh in panic. Your eyes bulge in terror as you notice the blood on your legs, a firm hand clamps down on your mouth before you can scream. He bears his weight down on you as he pulls his tip out of you. You don’t know if you’re relieved or pained at the loss of sensation.

“Shit, you weren’t supposed to see that.” He growls as he spreads your legs with his own, hooking under your knees with his feet, spreading you out. You feel arousal course through you when you know, logically, you should be terrified. One of his large hands pins your wrists above your head. You’re truly at his mercy.

“If I remove my hand, will you promise not to scream?” His voice is shaky and you almost think you hear fear in his tone. You nod slowly, playing nice with the monster above you. Scenarios are running through your mind, at best he was a vampire, at worst he’s a cannibal and you’re truly fucked.

“What the fuck Frankie? Is that even your real name?”

He huffs as he rubs his eyes with his free hand, swiping it down his face in a very human manner. You give him no quarter, glaring up at him with as much fire you can muster. You’re horny, terrified, and it pays to mention twice, so, so horny.

“Like I said, my name is Francisco, and my friends call me Frankie.”

“Ok, Francisco,” You snap and you feel him shudder as you say his full name, “What the fuck is going on here?”

“As you’ve probably already guessed, I’m a vampire, and I was going to bite you, again.”

You’re surprised, and somewhat comforted by his honesty, but you raise your eyebrows at him. He hesitates before continuing and you suck in a deep breath, making it very clear you’re about to scream louder than when he made you come.

“Alright, alright,” Frankie snaps as he leans back onto his heels, completely disentangling himself from you, “What do you want to know?”

You pause for a moment, dramatically placing a finger to your lips as you pretend to think of a question. Frankie looks more and more desperate with every passing second and something about that emboldens you.

“So, you bit me?”

“Yes.”

“Am I going to turn into a vampire now?”

“No.”

“Were you going to kill me?”

“No, never!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

That hits a nerve, Frankie’s eyes dart away from you and you watch as he runs his hand through his sweaty locks and sighs. He exhales, though you wonder if that was more a habit than a need to empty his lungs.

“You’d have either laughed me off, or run for the hills. I wanted to spend a night with you, no killing or turning involved.” He says, dropping his gaze to focus on his hands.

“Francisco,” You laugh, the sound makes him snap his head up to look at you, hurt in his eyes, “You realise most people my age grew up with a vampire kink right?”

You think if he could blush, his face would be rosy as he realises the truth in your words.

“Those fucking Twilight books!” He exclaims with disbelief written across his face.

“I mean, I was more about The Southern Vampire Mysteries. But whatever floats your boat I guess?”

You smile up at the bashful vampire and despite everything, you kind of like him. He seems to visibly relax, slumping back onto his ass, his legs either side of you as you move up onto your knees.

“Fuck I’m sorry, I’m usually so much better at this, but you’re just so,” He pauses as his pupils dilate and his body shudders, “Irresistible.”

“Fine. I’ve got one more question.”

Frankie just nods, and you try to focus on his face, and not the painfully hard dick bobbing between you as he moves his head.

“When you bit me, it felt good, why?” You scrunch your face up in an uncertain grimace as if you’re weird for feeling good about being bitten.

“Ah yes, that’s a survival mechanism so that our, uh, prey, don’t panic, it’s sterilising too.”

“So, your spit is an antibacterial aphrodisiac?”

“More or less, same can be said for other, uh, secretions.”

Once more you would wager that if Frankie could blush he would be beet red right now. Instead, he squirms under your gaze, and you decide to throw caution to the wind.

“Francisco,” You purr as you crawl onto his lap, draping your arms around his neck as you hover over his dick, “If you promise not to kill me, I’d be delighted to fuck you.”

“You sure? I won’t be offended if you want to leave or stake me.”

“I think,” You purr as you dip your head down to his jaw, rubbing your nose along his patchy facial hair, “We’d both rather if it were you impaling me.”

That seems to be enough to convince Frankie, you feel yourself lurch back on the bed and with inhuman speed Frankie notches himself at your core as your head hits the pillows. His mouth is on yours, begging for entry as his tongue traces the seam of your lips.

You tilt your hips up with a groan, he presses his tongue languidly against yours as you dig your nails into his shoulders. He whimpers at the pain and drives his thick, sizeable cock inside you, balls slapping against your ass as he snarls into your mouth.

You’re so full, his length just right to press into your g-spot but mercifully not so large he can reach your cervix. You think you might actually die if he could, considering the pace he’s set and how hard he’s driving into you. You drop one hand to your clit; you can already feel you’re close and you’re desperate to chase the next one before Frankie comes.

“Fuck, mi Sol knows what she wants,” Frankie groans as he pulls back to watch where your bodies connect, where your fingers are rolling tight circles over your sensitive nub, “Look so hot touching yourself while I fuck your tight little pussy.

“Feel so good Frankie, like it hard and fast, your cock’s fucking perfect.” You respond as you reach up with your free hand to tug at the curls at the nape of his neck. His eyes snap up to meet yours and his fangs glisten as he pants hard.

“Bite me Frankie.” You whine as you feel the twist in your gut as your orgasm builds. You turn your neck to the side before he can protest and you hear the animalistic grunt as he buries himself deep inside you before dropping his head to your neck.

“Need you to tell me to stop if I go for too long mi Sol,” His speech is slurred as he noses along the column of your neck, lips catching and dragging delightfully over your pulse point. You shudder and mewl as you feel the hot drag of his tongue on your skin, “Promise me.”

“I promise, Frankie, I’m going to-.”

You don’t finish your sentence, the sharp stab of Frankie’s fangs melds with the return to a blinding pace as he fucks you with abandon. You come hard as you press firmly against your clit, rubbing hard as you feel the euphoric bliss flood through you. Your neck blossoms with heat, flames licking through your veins as Frankie feeds from you.

There’s a blunt pain, like a deep bruise but it’s engulfed by the soothing effect of his salvia and the white hot pleasure pulsing through your cunt. You cry out and wail at the different pleasures coursing through you. It’s like they meet somewhere in the middle and your mind goes blank, white-hot streaks blurring your vision as you come completely undone.

“Fuck me harder Frankie, nggh, harder, fuckmefuckmefuckme!” Your words come unbidden from your mouth as you feel his groan vibrate through your very bones. Frankie pulls away, eyes blown wide with desire as your blood trickles out of the corner of his mouth.

“So fucking sweet, knew you’d taste good, but this?” He thumbs the blood from his skin, holding it up in the low light of the bedroom, “This is divine, I don’t think I can live without it now mi Sol.”

“Then don’t.” You whine, snatching his wrist with a weak hand, but he doesn’t fight you as you bring his thumb to your lips. You suck the combination of his saliva and your blood off his thumb and groan as the coppery taste hits you. Followed quickly by a warm, numbing sensation that coats your tongue. You suck gently on Frankie’s digit as the aphrodisiac effect ignites a burst of pleasure in your core.

“You want to be mine, truly mine?” Frankie growls as his thrusts become harder, more erratic as he cups your face with one large hand, the other pinning you to the bed by your hip. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your thigh and you squirm under him, pleasure making you feel light-headed.

“Please.”

“Good, because I’m never letting you go mi Sol, you’re mine, forever.” He grunts as he thrusts into you twice more, then he stills, panting and grunting as he spills inside you again and again. There’s so much cum you feel it leaking out of you the moment he starts to soften.

He pulls out completely, moving down to spit on your pussy and you whine and shudder at the way it slides down your folds, mingling with the blood, spit and your combined release. His fingers gather it all up and with one digit he slowly plugs you up, keeping everything inside as he places hot, wet kisses to your inner thighs.

“Frankie what are you-?”

“Trust me, mi Sol, you want me to do this, otherwise you’re not going to walk straight for a few days.” He mutters softly against your skin, kissing your tender flesh with such soft devotion you feel heat rising in your cheeks.

“So, this is vampire aftercare huh?” You wheeze as you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch as Frankie dotes on you in the most bizarre but delightful way.

“Mhm,” His eyes are closes as he moves his mouth lower, inhaling deeply as he gets close to your stuffed pussy, “Gotta look after my girl, if you’re still into that idea, that is?”

“Frankie, we just fucked in fucking missionary and it was the best sex of my life. As long as you don’t turn out to be a Scientologist, I’m willing to give this a shot.” You tease as you sit up a little more, running your hair through his soft, sweaty curls.

“So, Scientology is a no-go, but vampire is a-okay?” He asks with a teasing grin on his face that makes your chest flutter.

“What can I say, I’m a freak for freaks, but draw the line at anything endorsed by Tom Cruise.”

Frankie laughs, a deep, throaty noise that makes you clench around the finger still seated deep inside you.

“We’re going to get on just fine mi Sol, but any time you want to leave, I will not stop you. I’ve lived too long to know that trapping you would end in misery. I want this to be as, uh, normal, as possible.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before ruining my pussy for every other human being out there now I’ve had vampire dick.”

“That fucking mouth,” Frankie purrs as his pupils dilate, “Going to have to see what other dirty things you can say and do.”

“Bring it on Francisco.” You goad him as you bite down on your lip and wink up at him. He has you pinned back against the bed before you can react. His lips brush against yours gently as you feel his hardening dick press against your stomach.

“The night is young, and I’m just getting started mi Sol.”

Your lips clash hungrily, and you smile to yourself as you get lost in each other’s bodies once more.

Who would have thought a breakup would feel so good?

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! <3

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rhoorl · 6 months

Text

Delta Landscaping | Chapter 8: Saturdays, Am I Right?

Series Summary: In this AU, the boys of Delta Force start a new business post-Colombia.

Series Masterlist | Chapter 8 A03 Link

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 6.8k

Chapter Summary: A Saturday around Mule Fall Court. Plus we get two cameo appearances.

Chapter Warning: Swearing. Oral (m receiving). Reminder, I don’t have a beta for this, so any mistakes are all mine.

A/N: Thank you for all of the love for Frankie in the last chapter! Although this is another Will-heavy chapter I appreciate you sticking with me. I promise the other guys will get some of the spotlight too. More notes from me at the end.

Katie’s eyes flutter open, catching the light coming through the slight crack in her curtains. She hears soft snores behind her and turns to see Will fast asleep. He looked so peaceful, beautiful really.

He starts to stir a bit so she turns around and closes her eyes pretending to be asleep. The last thing she wanted was for him to wake up to her staring at him. She feels him get up and turn to check his phone on the nightstand.

Katie could tell he was peering over to check if she was still asleep. She feels him nestle back under the covers and inch closer to her, wrapping an arm around her, making her smile. She leans back into his touch as he nuzzles his face into her neck.

"Are you awake?" He whispers.

"Mhmm," she manages, as he kisses her neck.

"How're you feelin'?" He brings his hand around to trace down her body from her waist to her hips and back.

"I have a headache, feel kinda weak…the usual," she laughs.

"I'm sorry, we'll try and keep it down so you can rest."

"Oh don't be silly Will, I can still function. I've had to do a lot more, feeling a lot worse," she chuckles, looking back to see him biting his bottom lip nervously. "Hey, it's all good. It was a very sweet thought," she kisses him. "You're good at those," she kisses him again.

"Oh yeah?" He smiles into another kiss which he deepens as he moves on top of her.

"W-Will, we c-can't…it's gonna get messy," she manages to get out between shaky breaths.

Will pulls back and looks at her, his hand tracing the side of her face. “I don’t mind. Just throw a towel down,” he smirks, before getting a bit more serious. “But if you really don’t want to, there’s still other ways we could have some fun,” he arches his eyebrows and bites his bottom lip.

“What do you have in mind, soldier?” The corner of her mouth turns up at his playfulness.

“Just lay back and relax,” he murmurs as he drops down to her waist.

He inches the bottom of her shirt up and starts leaving light kisses along her stomach, working up. Katie’s hips buck up, anticipating Will’s next move. She clenches her eyes closed, trying to breathe as he takes one of her nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around as his other hand lightly cups her other breast. A shudder comes over Katie as she savors the pleasure Will’s mouth is giving her. She throws her head back, whimpering as he continues.

“Is this ok? You aren’t too sensitive or sore or anything,” he stops to ask, looking up at her.

“N-no, you’re doing great…I mean, ha, it’s…yea, it’s good Will.” She giggles as he goes back to work.

She sneaks a glance down to look at him but then something catches her eye. Seeing movement she lets out a yelp.

“Fuck, what happened? Are you ok?” Will’s head snaps up, searching her face.

“Ah, n-no, um…” she points a trembling finger to where the wall meets the ceiling.

Will whips around to see what she’s pointing at. His shoulders relax when he sees what has her so scared – a small gecko perched on the wall. “You’ve never had a gecko in your house before?”

“Once…scared the shit out of me. I had to call Meg to get Connor over here to grab it.”

“These are kind of a thing here in Florida,” he smirks, trying to give her a hard time before he realizes how scared she truly is. “Well, good thing I’m here. I’ll take care of it.” He winks and gives her a quick kiss before hopping out of bed and throwing his jeans on, leaving the top button unbuttoned.

Will makes quick work of capturing the little creature and takes it outside. He's washing his hands in the kitchen as Katie comes around the corner dressed in some comfy pants and an oversized t-shirt, her hair in a messy bun.

“My hero! I’m so glad you were here” she smiles, skipping over to him and wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him. “Sorry we had to cut the fun short,” she pouts.

Will’s chest puffs out a little at her praise. “Ah, that’s okay.” He runs his hands down her sides.

“I…um…I’ll make it up to you later,” she winks.

“Oh really? Hmm…I wonder how you’re going to do that,” he smiles and kisses her before pushing her back towards the kitchen island, deepening the kiss. After a few minutes, he pulls back. “Shit, what time is it?” He looks at the clock above her oven. “Fuck, sorry. I need to go before Benny wakes up,” he laughs.

“Ok,” she sighs.

“I’ll be right back. Well, I’ll have two sidekicks with me, but I’ll be back."

Will runs back to her room to grab his shirt, making sure to give her a quick kiss before leaving and hopping into his Jeep for the short drive down to 319.

He’s thankful that it’s still early in the morning. It had been years since he’d done a walk of shame, and while there was no shame in this return, he still wasn’t too keen on running into any of his neighbors.

He just parked and got out of his Jeep when Olivia’s front door flew open. CJ and Max ran to the van as Olivia trailed balancing Diana on her hip along with various backpacks and bags.

“Boys, hey! Hold on a sec lemme open the door,” she huffed out, fishing her keys from her crossbody and hitting the button for the automatic doors on her minivan to open.

“Hi, Mr. Will! You look nice!” CJ yelled over to Will, waving.

“Hi Mr. Will, we’re going to soccer practice. Mom says it’s good for us to get our energy out! Hey, your button isn’t buttoned,” Max pointed to Will’s jeans.

“Hey boys,” Will waved, looking sheepishly over to Olivia. “Hey, Liv! Mornin'."

Olivia was oblivious to the fact that Will was dressed in a wrinkled shirt and buttoning the top button of his jeans. “Hey, Will! Boys, get in, get your iPads. I’ll be right there. Hey!” She walks to the front of her driveway, nodding for Will to join her. “I’m glad I saw you! I was meaning to reach out to you guys. So, it’s the boys’ birthday next week. I know the idea of going to a party with a bunch of eight-year-olds probably doesn’t sound too appealing, but the whole Neighborhood Wa-...um…I mean, the whoel crew is invited. And you guys are part of that! Frankie and Santiago too!” She smiles.

“Aw, thanks Liv. That’s really nice. Yeah, I’m sure the guys are down. Just..um…text me the details.”

“Ok cool. Chris has a friend who owns a skating rink so we're gonna rent it out. Should be fun!”

“Well, awesome, I’m looking forward to it, haven't skated in years!”

“Nice. Well, um, see you later!”

And with that, she turned on her heels to head back to her van and buckle Diana into her car seat.

Will breathed a sigh of relief as he made his way up the driveway, unlocking the door.

_____________________

Katie busied herself with making some coffee and picking up when she heard a knock at her door. She wasn’t expecting Will and company so soon, but she was giddy at the thought of seeing him again.

She opened the door without looking, “Back so soon, huh? Shit, you scared me!”

Megan was standing at her doorway with a basket of freshly baked muffins - double chocolate chip, Katie’s favorite. She also had a bottle of wine tucked under her arm. “I thought you could use some chocolate for now…and then some wine, for later,” she winked.

“Jesus Meg, I thought… never mind, come in. Thank you for these, I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Well, make me a cup of coffee, I need to hear about last night…and apparently this morning from the looks of you,” she snorted as Katie rolled her eyes.

_____________________

Frankie woke up, feeling a bit lighter after he shared some of his past with Lucille last night. A phone call to his sister made things even better. He booked an impromptu trip to see her in a couple of days. Although the boys did not flaunt their money, Frankie had to admit it was nice to be able to drop everything and just go and not have to worry.

He threw a shirt on and walked to the kitchen to see Santiago already busy making breakfast, listening to music, his hips swaying to the beat.

“Hey cabron, you hungry?” Santiago asks as he cracks some eggs into a bowl.

“Ah, sure, yeah. Thanks.” Frankie pours himself a cup of coffee from the pot Santiago brewed. “How was your night?”

“Good. It was nice.”

“Did you behave yourself?”

Santiago rolls his eyes, “Yes. The hell man? I was with David and Ty too, you know. We just went to a restaurant and then to a wine bar. It was actually a pretty nice place. I'd suggest you take a girl there if you ever decide to date again," Frankie rolls his eyes. "Anyway, the three of them went back together and I took an Uber home. I’m pretty sure I beat you back, actually.”

Frankie sets his coffee cup down and lifts both of his hands up, “Okay, hermano. Jeez, I didn’t mean to strike a nerve so early in the morning.”

“I just…ugh… never mind. How was your night?”

“Good. Great, actually. I uh…called Valeria. I’m going to go see her, Alyssa, and the kids this week.”

“You’re flying to Dallas? Just like that?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, why wait," Frankie scratches the back of his head, his curls wild from sleep. "And plus, it was like the only good time to go. Between both of their work schedules and stuff, I would have had to wait months.”

“Nice. Well, I’m happy for you. Shit how old is Leia now?”

“She just turned two. Damn, you reminded me that I need to go and get her a present today. Maybe after we get done at Melissa’s we can swing by someplace.”

“Yeah, sure. So when are you leaving?”

“I’m gonna leave Monday, after my meeting. Gotta see if I can move it up a bit earlier…but I’ll come back on Friday.”

“Ok cool, well I can drive you, we’ll figure it out.”

_____________________

Will walks into the house, surprised to hear SportsCenter on the TV.

Shit. He thought to himself, knowing his brother was awake and therefore going to give him a hard time. Walking further into the house, he sees Benny looking out their sliding door to the backyard eating cereal out of a large bowl. Hearing the front door close, Benny turns and lights up with the biggest smile.

“Oh shit! There he is! You like the little present I left you?” He winks, setting down his bowl and running over to his brother, slapping him on the chest. “Have a good night?”

Will just rolls his eyes and walks down the hallway to his room, pulling his shirt off.

Benny trails after him, “Oh c’mon. I know you don’t really kiss and tell anymore, but you’re not gonna give me anything?”

“Ben. If I tell you anything, you’re going to make it super fucking awkward when we go over there in a bit. I don’t want her to be embarrassed.”

“Oh ok, so you guys haven’t fucked yet, cool cool.” Benny busts out laughing as Will chases him into the bedroom.

“You’re lucky you’re so fucking tall otherwise I’d beat your ass kid.”

“Ha ok, whatever.” Benny leans against the wall in Will’s room as his brother changes. “But seriously, did you have a good night?”

Will sees the sincerity in his brother’s eyes. “Yeah, it was nice. She’s fucking awesome man. So funny and smart and creative…”

“And hot. Ow!” Will throws his jeans at Benny. “I’m just saying, for you. I mean, she’s pretty, don't get me wrong.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty fuckin’ hot,” Will smirks as Benny whoops and plops onto Will’s bed. “How was your night?”

“Good. You’ll be happy to know I executed another flawless mission. Your boy Jax really stepped up.”

“He’s a good guy.”

“Yea…Connor texted me this morning, well it was late last night but I didn’t see it til I woke up. He and Aria were up talking on the phone til real late. He’s probably gonna be a bit tired this mornin',” Benny laughs.

“Ha nice, well I’m glad it all worked out.”

Will changes into a pair of black basketball shorts and a cut-off concert tee. He grabs his socks and a pair of sneakers too. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I think Connor should be over any minute. Gotta just grab my hat and some tools and I’m all good to go.”

_____________________

Connor came over right on time, a little tired so Benny gave him a RedBull. The three of them decided to walk over to Katie’s house, the older guys lovingly teasing Connor who blushed every time he talked about Aria. Will casually used some old interrogation techniques to coax out of Connor the fact that they kissed. Connor confessed to heading to the exact place Benny told him about, the only spot in the whole park not visible from the vantage point Benny chose.

They laughed as they reached Katie’s porch. “Damn, I didn’t realize how much water damage there was here,” Benny says, observing how the porch beams bow out.

He reaches his hand out to touch one of them when Will slaps his hands away, “Don’t touch it, man. The whole fucking thing could cave in, s’far as we know. I’m gonna call Joel later when we take a break.”

“Isn’t he gonna be busy with Sarah?” Benny asked.

“Nah, he’s probably out at some job site this morning.”

“Oh on a weekend? So does Steph have Sarah then?”

“Yea. They do a bit longer of a switch during the summer, two weeks at a time. He takes advantage and runs himself ragged, pulling 12-hour days. I dunno why he does that shit to himself.”

“Who’s Joel? And Steph and Sarah?” Connor asks, looking between the two men.

“Oh, shit, sorry. Joel’s our cousin. Sarah’s his daughter. And Steph’s her mom,” Benny fills the boy in on their extended family as Will knocks on the door.

Megan answers the door, “Hey boys!”

“Mom?”

“Yeah, sorry to cramp your style C,” she winks. “Figured I’d give Katie some company, while you all worked. Nice to see you're back to no sleeves, Benny,” she laughs.

“I told ya, I don’t dress up for just anyone,” he smirks.

“Hey guys,” Katie comes from around the corner addressing all of them, but looking squarely at Will. Her eyes rake over his exposed arms, remembering how it felt when he held her this morning. “Come in, lemme show you where everything is.”

“Benny the builder reporting to duty,” he fake salutes, following Katie into the house.

__________________

Katie and Megan catch up on a reality show as the guys make quick work of assembling a series of items. She honestly thought it was going to take them all day, but as it neared lunchtime, they had almost all of it done.

“Hey,” she walks into the spare room where they set up shop. “You boys hungry? We were thinking of ordering some pizza.”

“Hell yeah!” Connor pumps his fist before looking at Katie who squints at him. “I mean, awesome, Ms. Katie. That sounds great, thank you.”

“You’re too sweet C,” she laughs. “Any requests?”

“As long as there’s pepperoni on something I’m good. Will’s pretty easy, aren’t ya Will?” Benny snorts as Will rolls his eyes.

“I’m good with whatever, just not green peppers.”

“No green peppers, huh? Hmm…”

“Red flag?” Benny offers.

“I dunno…that’s borderline,” Katie shakes her head, smiling as she walks out.

Will slaps Benny and they both start to laugh.

The pizza arrives just as the guys reach a stopping point. They only have one dresser left, the biggest piece. As they all sit around, talking and eating, Will suddenly remembers that he needs to call Joel.

“Shit, you mind if I make a quick call? My cousin’s a contractor and I wanted to get his opinion on your porch.”

“Your porch? What’s wrong with the porch?” Megan asks with her mouth full, looking at Katie.

“It’s definitely got water damage,” Benny chimed in. “Shit’s probably gonna cave in any minute-”

“Jesus Benny!” Will smacks him on the arm. “It’s not going to cave in at any minute Kat, er Katie.” He shot daggers at his brother for not having more tact. “But, it’s probably not something you’re going to want to wait on, ‘specially since it’s the summer and we get a lot of rain. But anyway, lemme call him real quick.”

“Ok, thanks Will, I appreciate you guys looking into it,” Katie smiles, trying to avoid Megan’s knowing look. Her ex was never this invested in home projects or anything that interested Katie. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her, but she had to admit it felt nice to have someone care.

Will pulls the phone in front of him, waiting for Joel to answer. When he finally does, a big smile comes across Will’s face. “Hey J, you got a minute?”

“J Moneeeyyy!” Benny yells, throwing himself into frame so Joel can see him.

“Ah, shit, both of you? Hold on, I’m gonna need to go somewhere, gimme a minute. Hey Tommy! I’ll be right back ok?”

Katie and Megan both exchange quick glances after hearing the low, Southern drawl coming from Will’s phone. They were both curious what the owner of that voice looked like, sure that he had to have some of the Miller good looks.

“Shit, Tommy’s there, tell ‘em we say hi!” Benny smiles.

Joel huffs as he walks away from the job site to his truck. Closing the door, he wipes his face with his forearm. “Ok, this about your neighbor?”

“Um, ah, yeah.” Will tries to keep his cool. He and Joel had exchanged a few texts about Katie, mostly about the porch but Joel did ask about her as well, curious about who had piqued the interest of his favorite cousin. “She’s actually here, I’m at her house now.” Will motions to Katie to come say hi.

Megan practically pushes her off the couch as Katie walks over behind the couch Will and Benny are sitting on. She sucks in a breath when she sees the man on the other side of the phone.

He looks to be a little bit older than Will, but not by much. Will mentioned he was in Texas, so Katie could only assume it was as hot there as it was in Florida. Joel looked a bit grimy, his hair matted to his forehead and his neck glistened with sweat. She caught a glimmer of what looked to be a silver chain underneath his greasy t-shirt. When Katie popped into frame, Joel immediately straightened up, running his fingers through his hair.

They both smile at each other before Joel clears his throat, “Ah hi, you’re Katie?”

“Uh, y-yea, how’d you…” Katie looked at Will who was blushing a bit.

“Oh, Will’s had nothing but good things to say about you, darlin'. Sounds like you got a lil problem with the porch?”

“Uh, yeah, apparently so.” Katie bites her lip.

“I can, uh, I can show you, Joel. Does that work?”

“Yeah, helps to see how much it’s bowin' out.”

“Ok, lemme take you over there. One sec, I’ll be right back.”

And with that, Will takes the phone away and heads outside.

“So, who’s your cousin?” Megan asks Benny.

“Oh, Joel? He’s our oldest cousin. Our dads are brothers.”

“Ah ok, and where does he live?” Katie was so thankful Megan was taking up asking the questions because she was still trying to find her words.

“Oh he and his daughter live in Austin,” Benny said between bites.

“So he’s married?”

“Why you lookin’?” Benny teases as Megan rolls her eyes. “Nah, he’s been divorced for a while. He and Steph make it work for Sarah. They aren’t like super close, but they’re not gonna slash each other’s tires either if that makes sense.”

Will walks back into the living room, “Thanks, man. Tell Sarah and Tommy we say hi.”

“When’re you gonna come visit us? I miss youuuuu!” Benny yells.

“Ha, miss you too, lil bean. I’ll try and figure somethin’ out. It’s been a while since I’ve gone on a vacation.”

“Nice! And hey we could probably use your help around the house too!”

“Ben, what the fuck? We aren’t gonna invite him out here just to work. The hell is wrong with you?” Will shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s all good. You boys know I can’t go a few days without gettin' my hands into somethin’. Let’s plan on it…gotta talk with Steph and sort it out, but we should. It’s been a while.”

“Woohoo! Hell yeah!” Benny runs over to his brother and smiles. “You’re gonna love it here J. We have a pool, we’re close to the beach. We could go to a baseball ga-”

“Ok, Ben. Calm down,” Will laughs. Benny loved Will, but he always had a soft spot for Joel.

“Hey, shit, sorry gotta go. The electrical guy just showed up and I’ve been tryna track his ass down for about a week. We’ll talk soon!” Joel nods as he disconnects the call.

“How bad’s the damage?” Katie winced, not sure she wanted to hear the bad news.

“Eh, it’s definitely something you have to get fixed, but we really can’t tell the extent of the damage until we start poking around more. Joel said it’s okay for now, but you shouldn’t let it go too much longer. So we’ll research it more and handle it, don’t worry,” Will smiles and rubs her knee before realizing there were three other sets of eyes on them. He clears his throat, “Guys, ready to get back to it? Only one more thing to go.”

“Yeah, let’s do it!” Connor gets up, collects all of their plates, and takes them to the kitchen.

Once the three guys are down the hall to the spare room, Megan looks over to Katie. “So, was he as hot as he sounded?”

“Fuck yeah, he was.” They bust out in giggles as they turn their show back on.

_____________________

“So what's she wants help with?” Frankie asks as he turns onto Mule Fall Court rolling past Benny and Will’s house and continuing down the street to Melissa’s.

“She was talking about how the backyard is so plain. She wanted to add in some stuff but wasn’t sure. Figured it would be easier if we could walk it with her and hear what she was thinking.”

“Hmm, ok.” Frankie cuts his eyes quickly over to Santiago as he parks his truck in the driveway.

Melissa must have been waiting for them because she came out of her house as the men were getting out of Frankie’s truck. “Hey guys!” She waves and walks over, giving each a kiss on the cheek and a hug. Frankie notices that she gives him a side hug and uses both arms when hugging Santiago. They make some small talk when they see a black SUV pull up to the house next door.

“Hey, isn’t that the house for sale?” Frankie asks.

“Yeah, it is. Lucille called me this morning actually to tell me that Ethan said the clients accepted the offer. They're meeting him this morning to do a walkthrough, so this must be them.”

The three of them look over as the doors to the SUV open up. The driver was a man, who looked to be in his 40’s. He was an attractive, pretty clean-cut-looking guy with a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. He wore jeans and a light blue V-neck T-shirt. His passenger was a beautiful woman, slightly younger than him, dressed in a yellow floral maxi dress. Melissa admired her gorgeous curls and the huge sparkly ring that caught the light beautifully. Tumbling out from the back door was a little boy, probably around the same age as Olivia’s boys. The woman opened the passenger door behind her and pulled out a little girl from the car seat.

“Hey there!” The man waves with a warm smile.

Melissa, Santiago, and Frankie all wave back. “Hi, I’m Melissa! You all the new neighbors?”

“We hope so! As long as everything goes smoothly these next few weeks,” the woman smiles as the family walks over.

“Oh, nice! Well, I’m Melissa. I live here,” she points to her house.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Victoria and this is my husband Marcus and our kids, Nicholas and Mariella.”

“Nice to meet you all! This is Frankie and Santiago, their friends Benny and Will live down the street. They just moved in recently too.”

“Santiago?” Victoria furrows her brows. “Hablas español?”

“Si, por supresto, él también,” Santiago responds, nodding towards Frankie with his chin.

“Que bueno. Fair warning, he understands more than he lets on," she winks, rubbing Marcus' back.

“Hey, after almost 10 years, what do you expect? Me and your abuela are practically holding full conversations at this point,” Marcus laughs, putting his arm around his wife and giving her a quick peck on the cheek, making her chuckle and their son groan. “So, uh, you like it here then, Melissa? It’s a good neighborhood?”

“Oh yeah. We have a lot of fun and always like an excuse to get together. Hey, maybe when you all get settled we can throw you a welcome party! There're some other kids here on the block too who you can play with,” she smiles, looking at Nicholas who was playing with some action figures.

“That’s awesome to hear. That’s what Ethan said too. Once we move in I’ll have to get some recommendations from you for stuff, like a landscaping company for starters because this,” she points to the front lawn of 306 Mule Fall Court, “this needs to get updated ASAP,” she laughs.

“Ha, I hear you. Well once you get settled in, I’ll be sure to give you a full rundown,” Melissa winks.

“When’re you all supposed to move in?” Frankie chimes in.

“Soon,” Marcus responds. “Trying to move in here before Nico here starts school,” he ruffles his son’s hair, getting a giggle from the boy.

"My sister is moving in with us too, so it's going to be a full house."

"She single?" Santiago asks, glancing quickly at Frankie, not seeing Melissa's scrunched-up face.

"Ha, she is," Victoria smirks. "She's act-" Victoria is cut off by the roar of Ethan's engine as he makes his way up the driveway. "Ah, well, looks like we gotta go. It was so nice to meet you all."

"Yeah, nice to know who's next door," Marcus smiles. “We’ll see you all around.”

_______________________

“Wow, I can’t thank you guys enough for this. It would have taken me several weekends to get all of this together,” Katie puts her hands on her hips, admiring the boys' work and how her house was starting to transform into the vision she had designed through her countless Pinterest boards.

Megan tosses Connor and Benny some bottles of water as Will lifts up his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. She didn’t miss Katie swallowing hard at the sight of Will’s abs.

“Well, this was fun. Glad you all could finally get some of this furniture together,” Megan clasps her hands, grabbing her purse. “I’m gonna head out, probably going to go see Lulu. C wanna come with?”

“Ah, I could really use a shower Mom,” Connor winces as he smells under his arm.

“You know what, you’re right. Ok, let’s get you home,” she starts to walk out, looking at Benny who was sitting on the couch.

He glances over at his brother who had a look in his eye he hadn’t seen in a while. Smirking to himself, Benny gets up and stretches, his shirt riding up a bit. “Hmm…I’m beat. Gonna go take a shower, myself. Hey, thanks for lunch, Katie. Will, I’ll uh, I’ll catch you later.”

And with that, Katie and Will found themselves alone. Will reaches his arm up, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes graze over Katie.

“What’re you looking at,” she blushes, walking over to him.

“Hmm…nothing, just thinking.”

“About what?” She reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

He returns her kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist. “How I couldn’t wait for them to leave,” he whispers into her ear as he trails kisses down her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.

“I…ah…I still owe you from this morning,” she manages to get out, despite her shaky breath.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he smiles and nips at where her neck meets her shoulder before soothing it with his tongue.

Reluctantly, Katie pulls back, looking at Will squarely in the eyes. “I know, but I…I want to. I, uh, I have an idea,” she smirks, pulling him by the arm down toward her room. Will bites his lower lip, but a nervous chuckle still escapes.

Once they get into Katie’s room, she grabs Will’s shoulders and leads him towards the end of her bed. “Ok, uh…sit down. Actually, uh…lie down. Uh, on your…stomach.”

Will furrows his brow, “Um…ok?”

“And, um, take your shirt off too,” she quickly added while she still had the nerve.

“You tryna take advantage of me, sweetheart?” Will purses his lips, before laughing.

“C’mon. Just do it.” Katie rolls her eyes.

Will grabs the bottom of his shirt with one hand and removes it in a smooth, swift move. He turns and moves up her bed, laying face down on her pillow. He hears Katie walk over to grab something off of her dresser and then feels the bed dip as she gets on, straddling his waist.

She leans over his body, her chest at his back, “You must be so sore after all of that work you did today, huh?”

He turns his head slightly to the side, catching her eye as he nods.

“Well, then let me help you out with that.” She grabs the bottle of lotion she brought with her and rubs some in her hands to warm it up. Her mouth was salivating as she looked at the man sprawled out on her bed between her legs.

She starts with his shoulders, moving down his back, feeling the cords of his muscles. He whimpers slightly as she works out some of the knots she comes across. It’s hard to know how much time passes, but once she feels Will’s muscles totally relax she swings her leg around, lying down next to him.

He looks so relaxed, cracking one eye open to look at her as he smiles. “That was fucking awesome. You have magic hands,” he laughs as he turns to his side, using one of his hands to trace down Katie’s body from her ribcage to her hip.

They stay like this for a few moments, enjoying the silence but both feel some tension building. Finally, it was Katie who broke, leaning over and pushing Will so he was lying on his back. She straddles him again, kissing and nipping, finding his sensitive spots as she works from his neck down his body.

When she reaches his stomach, he stops her, grabbing both of her arms. “Hey, let me take care of you fir-”

“Nope,” she cuts him off, emphasizing the p. “You did all of this hard work for me today, I want to show you how…uh…thankful I am,” she smirks as she moves down to the waistband of his shorts.

His breath gets shaky as she presses her mouth to the outside of his shorts, feeling a twitch as he gets harder. He takes a fistful of bedsheets in his grip as he feels her warm breath tease him.

She looks back up at him through her eyelashes and works his shorts down. Will lifts his hips up to help her as he springs free. She bites her lower lip, taking in this visual before moving her hands to lightly grip his thighs. He was trying so hard to stay still. She moves closer, down to the base, flattens her tongue against him, and works her way up, stopping to swirl her tongue around the head. Will throws his head back, bucking his hips up. Katie was caught by surprise and gagged slightly, not expecting that much so soon.

“Fuck, shit I’m sorry,” Will props himself up onto his elbows, before sitting up, reaching for the back of Katie’s head. “Are you ok?”

Katie coughs and composes herself, smiling “Y-yea, I’m fine. Just wasn’t expecting all of that,” she chuckles.

“Shit, neither was I.”

“It’s ok, you havin’ fun?” Her mouth quirks up as he nods. “Ok, good, just lay back and relax.”

She resumes, using her hand to help as she takes him in. Once she gets into a good rhythm, she relaxes her jaw, taking him all the way in until her nose is nestled into the curls at the base of his cock. His breath picks up and he whimpers as Katie takes a slow, methodical approach. It drives Will wild, in the best way, that she seems to almost be savoring this…savoring him.

“I…ah…I’m really close…” he trails off, panting. “Wh-where?”

Katie doesn’t say anything, but makes eye contact with him, giving him a wink which sends him over the edge. Within seconds she feels his spend hit the back of her throat as she works him down. His chest quickly rises and falls and his vision goes blurry for a second. As quickly as he feels pleasure he starts to feel overstimulated, pushing Katie off of him gently.

“F-fuck, sorry about that,” he chuckles, bringing both of his hands to his face, and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands as he catches his breath.

“Was it ok?” Katie sits up and looks at him, dragging her thumb on the outside of her mouth, catching the last bit of Will, and licking it.

“Shit. Uh, y-yea. You’re…you’re fucking amazing,” he props himself up on his elbows. “C’mere,” he pulls Katie on top of him as she giggles.

____________________

"So, you guys could really do all of that?" Melissa looks between Frankie and Santiago, hopeful and giddy at the prospect of a full backyard renovation.

"Sure thing princ-, ah I mean, yea absolutely," Santiago manages a neutral smile while avoiding Frankie's eyes. "We'll definitely need Will and Benny's help, but yeah I don't see why we couldn't get this done in a few weeks."

"Eeek, that's so exciting. I gotta tell Danny. Can we wait til he gets back?"

"Absolutely," Santiago gives a tight-lipped smile.

"Awesome, thank you both. You guys hungry? D, Ty, and I were probably going to order in."

"We actually have a couple of errands to run," Frankie jumps in before Santiago can open his mouth. "Gotta get this guy here to help me get something for my niece."

"Aww, I didn't know you had a niece," Melissa smiles as she leads the guys back to the front of the house, while Frankie fills her in on his upcoming trip. "That's so nice Frankie, I'm happy for you. I'm sure this guy is gonna miss you while you're gone," she nods over to Santiago.

"Ha yea, well absence makes the heart grow fonder doesn't it Pope," he smiles and slaps Santiago on the shoulder.

"I know you're in love with me, just admit it, Fish," Santiago teases as they all start to laugh.

"Alright, well I won't keep you two. Thanks for coming over, I feel a lot better about the plan for the backyard now."

"Don't mention it," Pope leans over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug which Frankie also does.

_____________________

The Neighborhood Watch

David: Liv what's the deal with the boys' party? Food? Drinks? Decor? Theme? Trying to plan my outfit.

Megan: The kids are 8. Pretty sure it's pizza, juice boxes and a cake.

Ty: But like, no alcohol at all? C'mon…

Olivia: The theme is Star Wars. I have some stuff coming from Amazon this week. Food is pizza and wings. They're letting us bring in beer and wine, that's it.

David: Noooo

Olivia: Chris had to beg his friend to even let us do that so please don't bring your Stanley cup filled with your "juice"

David: I did that one time. I didn't realize Disney was so strict about that shit.

Olivia: You almost got us all banned for life!

David: Well, we didn't … all good! 🙃

Megan: Anyway. Are you gonna need help Liv? Let me know.

Lucille: Me too. Although I want babysitting duty with Diana.

Olivia: Oh Lulu, I would love that, yes please! And yeah I may need some help.

Melissa: Count me in too 😘

Ty: Katie? You coming?

David: Right now? Probably. Isn't Will over at her place?

Ty: LUCILLE IS ON THIS CHAT

Lucille: I'm not a nun, gordito.

David: See! Lulu is down to clown with us!!

David: But seriously, Katie I hope you are having a gooooood time. 😉

Olivia: Speaking of Will, I invited him.

David: And the rest of the guys too? Frankie will be there right?! 😍

Ty sends a gif of a woman shaking her head.

Olivia: Yes lol … I told him he and the guys were invited. Shit, I need to send him the details but it sounded like they were in.

David: Well yay! I'm excited. And then we have to plan our Fourth of July BBQ!

Melissa: I can host again! Danny gets back this week.

Ty: Sure you want us all over at your place? We can host if you want some alone time with your man 😜

Melissa: All good, we love having you all over!

Melissa: Oh I totally forgot, I met the new neighbors today!

David: 👀 tell me everything

Melissa: It's a family, a man and his wife and two kids. The little boy looks like he's about the same age as Max and CJ and they have a little girl too.

Olivia: Aw yay! So exciting!!

Melissa: yeah! They seem really nice too.

Ty: Does the guy actually look like Frankie because dear God I'm not going to be able to handle David if that happens.

David: 🥵

Melissa: He does kinda look like Frankie, but just with shorter hair.

David: So we don't have competing curls to deal with?

Melissa: lol no

Melissa: He looks like the kind of guy who wears suits for his job

David: I'm listening….👀

Ty: Christ. Calm down

Megan: Did they say when they were moving in?

Melissa: I didn't get any specifics but it sounded like they are just waiting to close at this point. So hopefully soon!

Melissa: Oh and I forgot, she said that her sister is going to be moving in with them too.

Megan: Oh, you're gonna have a full house next door!

David: We should totally plan a block party to welcome them!

Melissa: I actually mentioned that and they seemed excited.

Ty: Oh jeez. He'll have a whole mood board created by tomorrow.

David: Hater!

Ty: Love you too babe!

Katie: Damn, I have a lot to catch up on.

David: THERE'S OUR GIRL

David: Is Will still there?

Katie: He left a little while ago

David: Aaaaand?

Katie: 🤦‍♀️

Ty: Please just throw him a bone otherwise he will not let it go!

Melissa: Oooo Katie, yes spill!

Katie: Let's just say Will left very relaxed 😏

David: 🎉🎉🎉

Megan: Katie also caught a glimpse of Will's cousin today on FaceTime 🥵

David: Is he hot too?

David: Of course he is. Everyone associated with that house is hot.

Katie: 😂

Katie: But yeah he was. Kinda gave me Frankie vibes a little

David: I am going to pass out

Megan: Well start bracing yourself because it sounds like he may visit sometime

David: Ok, but like I'm going to need a visual or something. To you know, prepare.

Megan: Lis we may need your detective skills on this one.

Katie: Yeah but we only know his name and where he lives.

Megan: And what he does for work and his ex-wife's name

Melissa: Oh come on, I thought you were gonna give me a hard one. That's easy. I'll get you a full breakdown by tonight 😉

A/N: Sooo…what do we think? We got a little Joel and a little Marcus. It was fun to write both of them. Don't worry, they'll be back!

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list moving forward!! Apologies if I accidentally left you off, I added it all manually and may have missed someone … just let me know!

@goodwithcheese / @gemmahale / @trulybetty / @patti7dc / @periodtsparadox / @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin / @maggiemayhemnj / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @avastrasposts / @meveispunk / @chaoticfestninja / @beboldbebravethings / @casa-boiardi / @katw474 / @linzels-blog / @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain / @pimosworld / @lynnchun / @anoverwhelmingdin /@lilmizmoz / @pedrit0-pascalit0 / @titlee78 / @noisynightmarepoetry / @inept-the-magnificent / @perennialdoll247 / @for-a-longlongtime / @readingiskeepingmegoing / @harriedandharrassed / @musings-of-a-rose / @anavatazes / @sherala007 / @midnightraain / @partyofone3413 / @inthedarkestnight / @millennial-teenybopper / @csarab615 / @darkheartgatita / @southernbe

#delta landscaping #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier au #pedro pascal cinematic universe

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