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washy0uaway · 6 months

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Kiss City Pt. 4

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader Word Count: 1.6k Chapter Summary: Movies with our favorite guy to recover, things be heating UP y'all. Series Summary: The thing you expected least on what you swore was a day set out to be cursed by the universe, was Frankie.

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Series Masterlist | Part 3

It’s comical really, how the already tiny Apple TV remote somehow grows smaller in his massive hands - one of which is still draped across your abdomen, resting on the bone of your hip. “Shit,” Frankie mutters as he presses the wrong button for a second time. Shifting to your side and propping yourself upwards and facing him, that hand on your waist comes dangerously close to your ass.

“Here,” you offer, resting a much smaller hand on his as your petite fingers press the right buttons, starting the second movie with ease.

It musters a slightly embarrassed “Thanks,” from him as you reach and set the remote back on the table. “Tiny ass remote, not so tiny ass hands,” he explains. Spreading his fingers apart, glancing down at his palm angled slightly toward you as proof.

You can’t be held responsible for moving your palm to meet his. You just wanted to feel him, even if it was under the guise of comparing hand sizes. Even with your longer acrylic nails, Frankie can still bend his knuckles to wrap around the tips of your fingers. The hand on your hip tightens its grip just slightly as he does. It’s not intentional and he doesn’t even notice - but you do.

“Your hands are fucking tiny, hermosa,” he realizes after a slight closed mouth chuckle.

“I’m pretty fucking tiny Frankie, if you hadn’t noticed.” At a solid 5’1 (and only on a good day), he was nearly a whole foot taller than you.

“I had,” he admits. Going out on a limb, he shifts his hand in yours until your fingers are fully intertwined, now resting in his lap. His eyes trail up to meet yours when he adds, “it’s cute.”

You roll your eyes but the blush spreading across your cheeks is not lost on him.

“Whatever you say, Morales. How about some popcorn?” A single eyebrow raised, and Frankie’s not sure how you keep doing this. Each new expression he sees spread across your features draws him in further. He wants to learn you, each expression - take it all in.

“Popcorn would be great, just don’t spoil your appetite. We ARE still ordering tacos.”

“We fucking better be,” you respond as you saunter into the kitchen.

A few moments later, after grabbing a beer from the fridge for Frankie and starting tea for yourself, he hears rustling from your kitchen. Like something is being dragged across the hardwood floor.

Intrigued, he interrupts. Poking his head into your kitchen with a “What the hell are you doing?” He is indeed seeing you drag a barstool across the kitchen toward an open cupboard.

“Top shelf,” you motion with a slight nod of your head in the direction of your pantry, still actively dragging the damn thing. “Can’t reach.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“We’ll I mean,” stopping in your tracks as you’ve reached the edge of the counter, giving him a smirk. One hand on your hip, the other resting on the barstool, you feed his words back to him, “Tall ass cabinets, not so tall ass legs.”

He laughs, but you’re already turning around starting to scale the stool.

Two strides is all it takes before he’s snapping a playful, “nope, absolutely not,” at you, wrapping am arm around your waist and planting your feet on the ground.

Except now, oh no. Now you’re backed against your kitchen counter, Frankie’s body brushing against yours slightly in the commotion.

“You’re ridiculous,” you joke. “I get stuff from the top shelf on that stool all the time.” Fully playing into the situation, just slightly amping up the doe eyes as he looks down, your gazes locking for what feels the millionth time today.

Without breaking eye contact for even a second, he reaches above you and pulls the box of popcorn from its home on the shelf. “Not when I’m around,” he’s stern but soft, coming from a place of .. concern? Caring? You can’t be sure, but my god do you want to find out.

Setting the box beside you, Frankie’s long arms come to cage you in by resting on the counter at your sides. Then, it’s another few seconds that feel like hours. When he looks at you, and I mean really looks at you, it stirs something in you. It’s almost unsettling how strongly you feel for one another already.

His eyes then start tracing each of your features, including the bump on your forehead. He again reaches out to brush a stray hair from your face, but when he breaks the silence again as he does, his voice is different.

“What am I going to do with you?” Deep. Rough. Low. Gravelly. Sexy as fuck, with his signature softness somehow still shining through. Not to mention, his eyes spending another few long seconds looking at your mouth before finding their new found home back on yours.

Your stomach knots and arousal builds as his calloused thumb traces your plush lower lip, your mouth slightly parted. The way his palm cups the side of your neck under the edge of your jaw and his long fingers spread into your hair has you absolutely reeling, heart pounding in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you continue, just barely above a whisper. He’s so close he can feel your breath on his face as you begin to melt beneath him.

Then suddenly, there’s a slight mischievous glint in your eye (absolutely deadly, if you were to ask Frankie). “What did you have in mind?”

That does him in. Entirely. His thumb on your lips is instantly replaced by his own meeting yours.

It’s intoxicating. Insanely intense, but not too rough. Not yet. But that’s when you sneak your tongue out to run it across his bottom lip. It’s quick and delicate, almost as if you’re trying to be sneaky about it.

He’d usually ask permission for a first kiss, and that usually wasn’t with anyone he’d only known a few hours. But my god, Frankie can’t help himself. The hand not spreading across the back of your neck finds salvation on your hip first, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

It’s not there long though. He slips his tongue in your mouth as he wraps his entire arm around the small of your back and his grip on you drives you mad.

You let him know when you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers running through his hair (hat long forgotten on the couch). A small groan escapes your lips, finding its home between his.

Before you’ve even noticed the placement of his hands shifting, he’s lifted you on the countertop to sit with ease. Your legs spread instinctively and his hands squeeze your hips, dragging your clothed core towards his own.

You stay like this for what is probably longer than either of you think. Frankie’s hands are everywhere, running up your thighs and then your sides, sneaking their way under your crop top. His fingers wrap around your rib cage as yours still dance in his hair, pulling slightly when he nips at your lips or finds a ticklish spot on your body.

Coming up for air a few minutes later, he sighs and nuzzles his forehead in the crook of your neck. "I'm not usually like this," he admits before planting a delicate kiss on your collarbone.

"What do you mean?" your nails tracing the back of his neck and into his hair has him on another planet.

"Well, I'm usually more of a gentleman. We just met and I haven't even taken you to dinner yet."

Your pull on his hair brings his head up to face you and you cup his face in your hands. Oh, sweet Frankie.

"I can't say I'm complaining, though. Would you feel better if I let you pay for tacos?" You offer with an eyebrow raised.

"Please," he pleads with wide eyes, before he starts kissing you everywhere but your lips. Pecks on your cheek, nose, jaw, arms wrapping around your waist and holding you close.

"Okay," you concede with a laugh. "If that means I get to keep kissing you, it's a small sacrifice."

Offering his hand to help you off the counter, you purse your lips and speak again. "You know, the popcorn will take a few minutes.." voice trailing off as he realizes what you're insinuating.

Dashing like a madman, he unwraps the popcorn bag and puts it in the microwave, sets the time, and presses start. When he kisses you again, it's hungrier. A new found confidence knowing you want this as much as he does. The way your tongues dance and his hands fit perfectly anywhere they're placed have you wondering. Where has he been hiding? How have I gone my whole life without this?

"Fastest three minutes of my life," you whine between kisses when the microwave beeps.

"You know, we should probably let it cool down before we eat it anyway," he responds, mouth now planting kisses on your neck, nipping ass he goes. "Just to be safe."

More than a minute passes while you're drunk on each other. His hands finding their way under your shirt, just to feel the warmth of the skin on your lower back, kneading like he needs you.

"Frankie," you whisper when you can get a word in. He pulls away for a moment and the look on his face (dazed, in awe of you), gives you all the confidence you need for what you're about to ask.

"Can you have sex with a concussion?"

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Tagging @lilipads @harriedandharassed @anoverwhelmingdin @missladym1981

#frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x reader #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #fanfic #triple frontier fanfic #francisco catfish morales

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washy0uaway · 6 months

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Kiss City Pt. 3

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader Word Count: 1.6k Chapter Summary: Sweet baby fluffy Frankie watches over you as you get to know each other. Series Summary: The thing you expected least on what you swore was a day set out to be cursed by the universe, was Frankie. A/N: I'm so sorry it took so long for me to get another part up, and didn't really intend for this to be such a slow burn lol. Life has been, well.. life. Absolutely slammed at work and fighting some dumb health stuff, but I plan to carve more time out for these two more regularly. Cathartic for me tbh <3 Also a bonus that people have been enjoying this - thank you so much for sharing/liking/following! Series Masterlist | Part 2

*I'M ALSO STARTING A TAG LIST!* I haven't kept track of anyone that's already asked, but will going forward! Respond to a post or shoot me a message if you'd like to be added :) xx

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After a short walk back to Frankie's truck (where he somehow managed to hold every door open for you without dropping your hand), you've agreed on tacos for dinner. Finding yourself in his passenger seat again, you glance at the clock to notice it's not even 1pm - hours until a suitable dinner time you think to yourself.

After he closes the drivers side door and starts the truck, he once again hands you his phone for you to enter your home address this time and you're off (Fleetwood Mac now playing over the stereo).

You fall into a comfortable silence the first few minutes, and Frankie thinks he's subtle as he steals glances at you each time he looks to take a turn or check his mirror. Not subtle at all, but cute nonetheless.

"Can I ask you a question?" he finally breaks the silence first. "Of course" you offer. "How did you know I'm not a creep? Back in the lobby, I said I'm not a creep and you said, 'I know,'"

Your laugh is the hardest he's heard yet, and though he's smiling next to you, he asks again.

"I'm serious!" he half jokingly exclaims. "I'm sorry, that's just not the question I was expecting. I don't know, you..." your voice trails off as you've looked up at him and your gazes lock again, now stopped at a red light. A soft sigh escapes your lips and you offer him a sweet, slight smile.

"You just seem like a good person," you continue and he almost scoffs. "Now I'M serious!" you insist, "I have to admit I was pretty pissed before I met you earlier, but you've gone out of your way to make up for it and make sure I'm okay - you've taken care of me."

He shrugs and turns back to focus on the road as the light turns green and tries to play it off. "Can't have you dyin' on me is all, wouldn't look good on my record you know?"

"Of course," you agree. "Can't have me dyin' on you."

The remainder of the drive is pretty quiet, and when you pull into your driveway and unbuckle your seat belt, Frankie is somehow already out of the truck and rushing to open your door for you. You try to protest and insist that you're not entirely useless, and he tells you the same thing he told you as he carried you inside your office building.

"Maybe I want to."

You can't argue with that, so instead take his hand as he helps you out of the truck. You only let go to dig in your cluttered tote bag for your keys. After unlocking the door and letting him follow behind you, you drop your bag and keys to immediately take your shoes off and let out a long sigh.

"How ya doing over there, champ?" Frankie asks as he closes your front door behind him.

"Honestly, exhausted. I don't really know what the plan for the afternoon is but I could use some serious couch time. We could put on a movie?"

"That sounds great, and probably exactly what you need right now."

You point him in the direction of your living room and explain you're going to throw on some sweats and grab you both something to drink, telling him to "Make yourself comfortable."

... which he definitely hasn't done when you walk into your living room, setting two glasses of water on the coffee table. His back is to you as he studies your walls intently. Photos of you as a kid (with people he imagines would be sisters or cousins), posters from concerts, bizarre art prints, all adorn your walls. But your bookcase is what he zeroes in on, as he's completely oblivious to the fact that you're making yourself comfortable on your couch behind him.

There's a range from classics like Dracula or Pride & Prejudice, to biographies of people he's never even heard of, then histories of music genres, and more - all sorted alphabetically in an almost overflowing book shelf.

A meow breaks his focus and he turns to see you sitting cross legged on your couch in lounge shorts and a comfy crop top as your cat, Beans, hops up to join you.

"Having fun?" you ask, after introducing your pet. "Yeah, sorry, you .. you uh, can tell a lot about a person by their books, is all." "Yeah?" you prod, "what did you learn about me?"

You'd propped an elbow on your bare knee, resting your chin on your fist looking up at him, wide eyed and almost sultry. This time, its your gaze that almost melts him, and he has to force his jaw shut before continuing the conversation.

"Well, you obviously read a lot," in a few steps he's sitting down next to you, Beans on your opposite side.

"Which I like in a person," he continues. "But most of your books are about things I know nothing about. I mean, an auto biography of J.M. Barrie? Who the fuck is J.M. Barrie?"

Your laugh startles Beans, who hops off the couch and saunters off in search of his food dish. Frankie makes a mental note that he wants to do that more often - make you laugh.

"He wrote Peter Pan, Frankie! You've never heard of him?" "Okay, don't hate me, I fully would have guessed that Walt Disney wrote Peter Pan."

You tsk and playfully shake your head, "Maybe you need to borrow the book then," giving him a side eye that nearly knocks him out.

"Gladly," he agrees, and you reach for the remote to put on a movie.

"What are you in the mood for?" you ask as you mindlessly start scrolling through streaming apps.

"Whatever you want, I'm just here to keep you company. What's your go-to comfort movie?" he suggests, and a near devious grin spreads across your face.

Knowing already exactly which app to find it on, you pull up the first, original Nightmare on Elm Street.

"THIS is your comfort movie?" He shifts his legs and body toward you in disbelief, pointing at the screen.

"Yup." you smack your lips as you say it, smiling up at him with pride. "Fall asleep to it most nights."

"You fall asleep to Nightmare on Elm Street?"

"Sure do! Hey, you're the one that told me to put it on."

A chuckle escapes him as he settles into the couch, draping his arm to rest loosely on the top of the couch behind you.

"I'm not complaining, you're just full of surprises, hermosa." You blush at the term, pressing play on the movie. "I like it though," he admits, now focusing on the TV in front of him.

"Yeah, yeah, just watch the movie, Morales." You kid, as you drape the blanket that had followed you to the couch over both of your legs.

Frankie decides a few minutes in, he'd rather watch you watch the movie. You're animated, talking along with the lines as characters say them, having clearly seen it countless times.

Stealing gazes at you periodically, he brings his arm resting on the couch down into his lap. He doesn't trust himself to not fully wrap his arm around you, and though he doesn't think he's misreading you, doesn't want to make you uncomfortable.

After letting out a long yawn though, you sleepily lean over and rest your head on his shoulder, eyes heavy.

He doesn't turn his head to look down, but you feel his eyes on your sleepy face.

"Is this okay?" you ask, lazily turning your head and looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

"Of course," he promises, face now only inches from yours.

You might have been nervous if you weren't so exhausted, but you quickly drift to sleep.

If you knew he was sitting next to trying not to freak out, biting his knuckles, you definitely would have been nervous. You began leaning more of your weight onto him as you fell into a deeper sleep and before he knew it, you were curled up at his side with your head in his lap and his arm draped over your waist.

Time passed quickly and it was safe to say, Frankie was focusing on anything but the movie. The credits began to roll and he hadn't even noticed until you started to slowly blink your eyes open.

"Is it over already?" your sleep stained voice asked, shifting on the couch to look up, your head still in his lap.

"Yeah, I guess it is." Frankie reached down to brush a stray hair out of your face and the look in his eyes made your heart jump.

He'd softened quite a bit over the short time you'd known him, but this look was different. Endearing, like he was in awe of you.

You had leaned your head into his hand as he brushed the hair out of your face and made eye contact with him.

The look you shared was telling - like you had an entire conversation in a glance. Both of you had agreed with this look, "you fascinate me, I can't believe I met you today," and "there's no where else I'd rather be than on this couch with you, and it scares me shitless how attracted I am to you already." All unspoken, but mutually understood, somehow.

You laid for a moment, head in his lap, cradled by his hand, not breaking eye contact.

"You wanna watch the second one?" you ask, gaze and tone still serious.

He really laughs this time, and you're grinning when he looks back down.

"Sure I do, sweetheart." Knowing goddamn well he'll still be watching you instead, he grabs the remote.

#frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x reader #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #fanfic #triple frontier fanfic #francisco catfish morales

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washy0uaway · 7 months

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Kiss City Pt. 2

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader Chapter Summary: Frankie comes to your rescue, obvs. Series Summary: You weren't expecting to sleep through your alarms the morning of a massive work presentation. You also weren't expecting to get rear-ended on your drive into the office. You definitely weren't planning on spilling your coffee all over your new blouse. But the thing you expected least on what you swore was a day set out to be cursed by the universe, was Frankie. A/N: Thank you for the love on Part 1, seriously!!! I’ve been slammed with work but am hoping to have more free time the coming weeks, no set post schedule at the moment. Warnings: eventual 18+ / MDNI!!! car crash, fainting, blood. Series Masterlist | Part 1 Here!

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You don’t know it, but Frankie’s at your side in an instant. It takes a baseball style slide on concrete, but the quickly bleeding scrape up his forearm and onto his elbow is the least of his worries. His large palm cradled the back of your head just before it hit the concrete - cutting it so close his knuckles are scraped now, too.

You’re not knocked out for long, but it feels like an eternity as Frankie goes into a mindset that he hasn’t found himself in for over a year. Void of emotion, he’s in military mode. He’s checked your pulse and breathing, calling your name when your eyes begin to flutter open.

Your eyes lock, and the concern paints wrinkles on his forehead.

“You never told me if your kid was okay,” you finally speak just above a whisper.

“…what?” The look of concern now changing to confusion.

“You said you were reaching for your phone - something about your kid’s daycare.”

“I -…. my daughter, she’s fine. But Jesus, that’s what you’re worried about right now?”

Though you’re still not completely lucid, you can’t help but somehow be hyper aware of Frankie’s hands are holding you. His right still wrapped around the base of your neck, fingers splaying in your hair. His left hand first grabbed your hip, and has since wrapped around the small of your waist, propping you upwards as you start to come to. His grip is strong (like nothing in the world could make him drop you), yet you still feel delicate in his grasp.

Still locked eyes and Frankie’s heavy breathing are interrupted by the two rent-a-cop’s stationed in your downtown office building. After having picked up on the commotion on the sidewalk, they rushed out and recognized you immediately.

“She hit her head this morning. Must’ve been pretty hard, cause she just passed out for a moment,” Frankie explains to the guards, his glance only leaving you for a second to acknowledge them.

“If these fine gentleman have a seat and water ready for you, and I carry you, think we can get you inside?” His asks, eyes now locked on you.

“You don’t need to carry me, Frankie. I can walk.”

The hand on your waist moves to wrap under your knees and he’s scooped you up bridal style before you can protest further.

Your arms are naturally reaching around his neck when he leans his head down. Gaze now trained on the guards opening the door for him (and you), he says something just loud enough for you to hear.

“Maybe I want to.”

The moment is fleeting as he sets you down in a lobby chair, crouching before reaching to the guard behind him who hands him a bottle of water. That gaze. Those eyes. Back on you.

He unscrews the cap of the water before handing it to you, instructing you to take small sips. You think you’d do anything he says, as long as he’s using that voice - low and calming.

“Do you know what day of the week it is? Where you are? Who I am? Who the president is?”

The questions baffle you for a moment, before you realize why hes asking. You answer each question correctly and he sighs.

“Good, okay, just had to make sure I hadn’t really knocked a screw loose this morning.”

You see the eyes of the guards behind him widen and chuckle, bringing Frankie more relief. “He didn’t hit me,” you begin to explain. “We’ll, he did. But with his car. Wait, no..” your voice trails off while Frankie is now the one chuckling. “It was an accident. I hit her car, with mine, and she hit her head in the process.”

As you’re setting your water down on the side table, he’s reaching for his back pocket, pulling your phone out. “You left it in my truck. Good thing too, or maybe I wouldn’t have been there to catch you.”

Shy again, you mumble a “thank you, by the way,” glancing at your fidgeting fingers in your lap. He places one hand on your two, his large enough to fill in the grasp of both your hands. His skin is tough but warm. “Don’t mention it,” he glances up from beneath his cap, now kneeling in front of you. His free hand has illuminated the flashlight on your phone and he explains he wants to make sure your pupils are dilating properly.

“Don’t look at the light. Look right at me.”

Please, as if you needed an excuse. The world melts away and for a moment, it’s just you and Frankie.

“You really should get checked out,” he pleads, his voice instantly bringing you back to reality. You’re still holding onto his hand as he turns off the flashlight and lowers your phone as it joins the bottle on the table.

“Haven’t you done that? Checked me out?” The words leave your mouth before you can even register the implied double meaning.

Frankie grins - the most genuine you’ve seen all day, and you swear he blushes.

“I mean, yeah I guess I have,” and there’s no doubt, he is definitely blushing, hand still in yours. “But I mean medically. By a professional. It’s my fault, I’ll foot the bill.”

“That seemed pretty professional to me. Where’d you learn all that stuff?”

“Military,” he shrugs, offering no further details. Wringing the back of his neck again, definitely something he does when he’s anxious, your thoughts confirm.

“Oh my god, Frankie you’re BLEEDING!” The realization when you see blood dripping down his arm has you fully snapped back to reality.

“Oh that? I’m fine, just a scratch. You gonna be okay here for a few if I go track down a first aid kit and clean up a bit?” He’s almost annoyingly calm about the situation, not caring in the slightest.

“There should be one at the front desk, I can help you-“

“Not a chance,” he interrupts. “I’ll be back in 5.”

Frankie’s been in the bathroom for a few minutes when your coworker Liz and boss David step out of the elevator.

“Oh my god are you okay?!” Liz rushes up to you, “They called us from the desk and said you’d passed out. How did you get to the office? How are you feeling? Was it the fucking asshole that hit your car?! This is his fault!”

Impeccable timing, Frankie has. Appearing over Liz’s shoulder and lifting his hat to run his fingers through his hair. His right forearm is now sporting a gauze bandage.

“That would be me. I’m the fucking asshole, and yes, it is my fault.”

Her mouth is open and ready to unleash her protective wrath, but the words don’t come when she turns to look at him. And sees how he’s looking at you - like schoolboy with a crush.

“Liz, this is Frankie. Yes, he hit my car. But he also got it to a shop, brought me to work, and kept me from splitting my head open on the sidewalk. Oh my god, I forgot your iced tea - I had just stopped at Starbucks and-“

“Girl, what?!” She exclaims. “You’re thinking about my Starbucks order? You should be thinking about seeing a doctor, babe. Make sure you’re okay.”

“Told you,” Frankie chimes in from behind her.

“Really, I’m fine. I promise.”

David, your boss, finally joins the conversation when he tells you that if you aren’t going to be seen by a doctor, you should at least take the rest of the day off - tomorrow, too he insists.

“Fine.” You concede with a sigh. You really probably needed a few days off, having been working too much lately. “It could be good to rest.”

“Woah, hey, actually…you might not want to rest too hard,” Frankie intervenes, and everyone turns to look at him.

“He’s right,” Liz agrees. “You’re not supposed to sleep too much if you’re concussed.”

As if on cue, the exhaustion hits you, “Well, that’s too bad because I feel like I could use a nap.”

“You can sleep for a bit, but someone should be there to keep an eye on you. Check on you every few hours,” Frankie explains.

“Can you have someone come over? Dave and I will be tied up here holding down the fort in your absence.” Liz is worried, but you’re grateful for your coworkers, even when she continues. “Maybe Zach would?”

“No!” You blurt out as soon as she suggests your ex, “Not Zach.”

Frankie doesn’t know the person in question, but in that moment he would do anything if it meant you didn’t have to ask Zach.

“I can do it,” Frankie offers, and Liz’s side eye glance at you is not lost on him.

“I mean, I know you don’t really know me, but the paperwork I had planned this afternoon can wait.”

The room falls silent for a second before he begins to regret offering. “Im not a creep, promise. Here,” after drawing his wallet from his back pocket he pulls out a few copies of his business card, handing one to you and one to Liz. “That’s my card, she can take a picture of my license, I’ll give her my number” he motions to Liz, and continues to ramble on before you stop him.

“Frankie, I know you’re not a creep. But really, I can’t just ask you to clear your day like that.” Internally though, you wanted nothing more than to get to know the man standing in front of you.

Francisco Morales according to his business card. “Helicopter Flight Instructor & Aviation Safety Inspector.” Could this man get any hotter?

“Seriously, you’d be doing me a favor getting me out of office work. Besides, it’s the least I can do.”

“He’s right, you know. That sounds like a great idea, Frankie!” Liz’s tone is suggestive, and you know just what she’s playing at.

“Okay,” you turn to Frankie, “but only if you promise to let me pay for takeout for dinner.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart.” You practically melt at the term of endearment paired with that genuine grin creeping across his face again. Then there’s his hands in his back pockets, chest stretching his tshirt tighter? Shit, Liz practically melts too.

“Well, we’ll leave y’all to it,” David catches on and begins to drag Liz back to the elevator. “You don’t have to worry about a thing, we’ve got you covered!” He’d successfully whirled your chatty coworker straight out of the conversation as the guards retreated back to their station, leaving you and Frankie alone in the lobby.

“Shall we?” He asks, standing in front of you with his hand extended to help you out of the chair. He doesn’t let it go as you’re walking toward the door though, and your heart races.

“So,” he asks, looking down at you, “what am I ordering for dinner?

#frankie morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #triple frontier fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x reader

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washy0uaway · 7 months

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Kiss City Pt. 1

Series Masterlist | Part 2 here<3

A/N: Prefacing this by saying this is my first ever fic attempt that I'm very excited to share with this lil corner of the world :) This pairing was originally inspired by the song Kiss City by Blondshell (cause that shit is Frankie coded forreal - we'll get there, I promise). Pls be kind! Very open to feedback, etc. - I have no idea where this series will go, but my plan is to just have fun with it <;3 Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader Word Count: 1.7k Summary: You weren't expecting to sleep through your alarms the morning of a massive presentation you'd been prepping for your boss. You also weren't expecting to get rear-ended on your drive into the office. You definitely weren't planning on spilling your coffee all over your new blouse. But the thing you expected least on what you swore was a day set out to be cursed by the universe, was Frankie. Warnings: eventual 18+ / MDNI!!! car crash, fainting. -------------------------------------------------------------

“Shit,” you mustered under your breath as you dropped your keys, fumbling to lock your front door before leaving for work. It was barely past 9:00am and you could already tell it was going to be… a day. It had started by sleeping through your alarm, waking up frantically after quickly realizing you had to make yourself presentable and be out the door in less than twenty minutes.

You had spent the night prior awake much past your bedtime, spending hours finishing a massive presentation for the CEO of the marketing company you worked for. It was fairly unrewarding work, but it paid well. Your boss’s and coworkers were all around your age, fun, and easy to work with. The laidback attitude of the company lends itself to the idea of stopping for Starbucks on your way into the office - you could swing being another 5 minutes late. Really, you know you wouldn’t be able to fight the still present exhaustion without at least 3 shots of espresso in your system, stat.

After ordering your latte (with an extra shot of espresso), along with an Iced Tea for your office coordinator and self proclaimed “work bestie,” Liz, you peeled out of the drive thru and were on your way. That is, until you weren’t.

It happened quickly, as you were approaching a green light. The signal turned yellow, with your car not yet in the intersection, bordering the line of acceptable to just drive through it. “Getting pulled over would take longer than waiting at this stop light,” you thought to yourself as you quickly brought your car to a stop.

Before you knew it, your forehead was ricocheting off your steering wheel and the full latte you were actively sipping was now drenching your new, white top and burning your skin. It took you a moment to realize what had just happened, glancing in your rear view mirror trying to catch an initial glance at the asshole who had just rear-ended you. After rolling down your window, you motioned to the culprit with your arm that you would be pulling to the adjacent strip mall parking lot, praying they would have the decency to not speed off.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you whispered to yourself as you unbuckled your seatbelt, fuming at the circumstance and cursing the universe for reinforcing the fact that this really, was just not your day.

The pickup truck that trailed behind you luckily didn’t seem too damaged, leading you to hope your car wasn’t in worse shape. You swung your car door open and stepped out with a huff. “Seriously, dude? What the fuck?” you borderline yelled the direction of the pickup as you heard its driver follow suit in stepping out of their car.

You hear him before you see him, a low pitched voice saying, “Shit, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” as he quickly strides from behind the truck. If you hadn’t been enraged, you would have dropped your jaw at the sight of him.

He’s a tall, broad man, in faded black jeans and a dangerously fitted dark green tshirt. What seems to be a head of thick dark curls is hidden under a visibly well loved baseball cap, and the perfect amount of facial hair to match peppers his face. He has dark eyes you could swim in - they meet yours as he asks if you’re okay a second time.

“Who, me?” You retort sarcastically. “Yeah, I’m great. I really woke up this morning and thought it would be a good day to spend drenched in espresso in the FedEx parking lot.” He lets out a laugh to try and ease the tension and my god, does it work. “God, I’m so sorry,” the stranger continues with one hand in his pocket, the other tightly grasping the back of this neck. “My kid’s daycare was calling, I dropped the phone and apparently I'm the dumbass who thought he could reach it below the passenger seat. Took my eyes off the road for half a second, I swear.” The mention of his kid surprises you, and your hormone driven brain is curious after noticing he’s not wearing a ring.

“Well, dumbass, at least your truck doesn’t look too damaged.” His face drops as he glances over your shoulder, “Yeah, yours though..”

You hadn’t had a second to assess the damage, quickly whipping around to the wreckage. “No no no!” you exclaim as you rush closer to your very mangled car. He’s quickly hovering above as you’re crouching at your bumper, already asking if he can call you a tow truck or give you a ride. His glance wanders down to your freshly soaked crop top, and you take no notice of him blatantly checking you out. You don’t respond to his questions, instead letting a long sigh escape your mouth as you rest your face in your hands, now fully sitting on the ground.

“Seriously,” he says pointedly, regaining your attention. “This is my fault, let me take you wherever you were headed. I have a good buddy who owns a shop not far from here, I’ll give him a call and have ‘em send a tow out.” He’s now crouched down to your level, and you suddenly feel his intense gaze on you waiting for a response.

A long moment of silence passes before you finally give in. “Fine.” Turning your head his direction, he’s already standing back up and reaching out a hand to help you up.

As he pulls his phone from his back pocket to call the shop, you introduce yourself and offer him your name. He’s instantly looking up from his phone to see you shyly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and glancing toward the ground. When he holds out his hand to shake, your eyes meet again. His features are now much softer and more relaxed, and a kind but shy smile is slowly spreading across his face. You can see in his eyes that he has a big heart. One you wouldn’t mind getting to know better, at that.

“I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I’m not sure now’s a good time,” he jokes. You take his hand, much larger than yours, in a firm shake, both of you holding on just a moment longer than necessary.

“I’m Frankie.”

Frankie call his 'buddy' (Benny, you gather, after overhearing his conversation) and confirms they'll send a tow truck your way. "You owe me one, pendejo," he pleads into the phone. You call your office next to let them know you'll be even later than planned. After assuring you it's not necessary to stay and wait for the tow truck, he opens the passenger door of his truck and offers you his hand to help you inside. I could get used to that, you catch yourself thinking.

Once you're situated in the truck, Frankie enters your office's address into the GPS on his phone. As he puts the truck in reverse, his right arm has braced itself on your headrest. His eyes cross your face for a mere second before he's suddenly slamming on the brakes, jolting you in your seatbelt for the second time this morning.

"Jesus man, are you trying to kill me?!" "Shit, sorry it's just - are you sure you're okay? Your forehead..." His eyes narrow as he glances above your right eyebrow. Instantly, you're pulling the visor in front of you down and sliding the small mirror open. Lo and behold, you're sporting a swelling lump on your forehead that's already started to bruise. As if on cue, your head starts to pound. "Dammit," you sigh, gently touching your forehead "I guess I hit the steering wheel harder than I thought." "Yeah, no kidding. Can I take you somewhere to get checked out? Make sure you're okay?" "What, have someone tell me to ice it just so they can bill me god knows how much?" You turn to look at Frankie, and notice his eyes are trying to hide worry. "Thanks, but that's really not necessary." He hesitantly concedes and you're (finally) on your way to work. It's a fairly quiet drive. Frankie asks you about your job and hums along to the song playing through the stereo to fill the silence. Girl from the North Country by Bob Dylan, you recognize it almost instantly.

"You have good taste," you almost smirk and glance his way, causing him to wring the back of his neck again. Must be something he does when he's nervous, you note to yourself, picking up on his anxious demeanor as his free hand grips the wheel slightly tighter. "You like Dylan?" he asks, turning the volume up. "Of course. My dad raised me on him - that was my first concert, actually. I grew up in Michigan, and he'd always joke I'd be someone's 'Girl from the North Country' someday." You realize you're rambling and cut yourself off from digging a deeper hole of embarrassment, "Sorry... saying I 'like' Bob Dylan is an understatement." "Nothing to apologize for," he glances over at you with a shy smile, "except maybe comparing my taste in music to your Dad's." This makes you chuckle, and his eyes are still locked on you - you hardly notice his staring until the stoplight turns green and the car ahead of you speeds off. "Hey man, have we learned nothing this morning?" you look over to see him already focused on you, and can't fight the blush you're aware has to be creeping over your cheeks. "Stay with me, Frankie!" you exclaim as you snap your fingers in the direction of the road. "Gladly." he whispers, nearly inaudibly. A few seconds pass, and you're not convinced he'd said anything at all. The shyness and anxiety take hold as he pulls in front of your downtown office building. Before you can even register that you haven't exchanged phone numbers, insurance information, or even asked the name of the shop towing your car, you're opening the passenger door, tossing a quick "Thanks for the ride!" over your shoulder and hopping down from the truck. With a quick pace, you're walking to the front door when you hear Frankie call your name. "Y/n! Wait!" You notice first that his voice sounds distant - muffled, even. Next, you realize you've fully halted your jaunt inside. Your feet are no longer moving beneath you, and your vision starts to go blurry. "You left your..." Frankie's voice trails off as you lose consciousness entirely, and your knees buckle beneath you.

#frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x reader #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #fanfic #triple frontier fanfic

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