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the-blind-assassin-12 · 2 days ago

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Let me just start this off by saying that if you have not been reading Liminality, you are MISSING. OUT. I am banging pots and pans, standing on the roof, screaming at the top of my lungs to get everyone's attention about this story.

Werewolf Frankie, you guys. WEREWOLF. FRANKIE. Better yet, Protective! Werewolf! Frankie!

And if that alone isn't enough to convince you, this story also has:

All of the TF guys (+ Yovanna!), characterized beautifully.

Smut of the passionate, intimate & scathingly hot variety.

Legitimately fun and funny moments.

DANGER! HIGH STAKES! DRAMA! BETRAYAL!

It's own very involved history and lore.

Did I mention that Francisco Catfish Morales is a friggin wolf?

In conclusion, what are you waiting for??

Okay. That was my case for the story as a whole. Let's dive into this chapter specifically now, shall we?

^ live look at me during and after reading part 16. This shit is bananas (b-a-n-a-n-a-s) and it has officially hit the fan and it's going down for real and sugar we're going down swinging for the goddamn fences.

This is the chapter that the whole story has been building toward and it was everything I wanted and so much more! The stakes (and emotions) have already been high throughout, but they went through the roof in this chapter - and it worked perfectly. The action scenes, the fighting, the surprise factor, Reader & Frankie's injuries, the interrogation, the fear, Tom being the lowest, scummiest lifeform on the planet, Frankie having to deal with two of the worst things imaginable in the same damn day - killing a man who was once a brother, and "failing" to protect the woman he loves more than life itself. Oh, fuck, how my heart ached and ached and ACHED for him here. I know, and he knows, that they are so solid and strong together that they'll be alright and they'll get through it all right by each other's side. But still, it's not what they wanted. It's more than not what he wanted, it was the exact thing he did not want. But that is life sometimes, and the silver (ooooo maybe not the best to line things with silver in this universe) the golden lining is that they have the world's best support system in Benny, Will, Pope, Yova, Ashley and Alec.

There were so many details that I obsessed over. Frankie's eyes and the way they change to reflect his feelings, instincts, ferocity etc. being my favorite by far. I also love the way that the guys have all taken Reader in as part of their family, and how they aren't shy about telling her how good they think she is for Frankie and how deeply he feels for her.

TOM. THAT FUCKING SMARMY BASTARD! I really didn't think it would be possible for me to hate him more than I already did but fuck, I definitely do. The fact that his grand plan was to turn reader and then make her watch Frankie die - not only to crush her in that moment but also so she'd have to deal with the consequences of the bite alone? I'm so glad his corpse is destined to become gator shit. Looks like this asshole gets a closed casket funeral in every universe. I only wish his wife and daughter could know what he was and what he did because he does not deserve their tears or grief.

I am not at all scared about Reader handling the bite. She's got Frankie and the guys and Ashley, and she's already so knowledgeable when it comes to navigating this world. What I am scared of, and have been the entire time Tom went on his rabid little rampage, is the Chaos line leaders showing up like the fucking Volturi. Although if I were them I would probably thank Frankie for taking care of their biggest mistake. Still though, I am anxious.

I love this story way more than a normal amount, and I cannot wait to see where it goes next. Thank you for writing such a thrilling, fun, action-packed love adventure, you are incredible and we are all lucky to get to read your stories!

Liminaliy: Part 16

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 11,975 (it's a big one.)

Rating: I'm going to go with an M. This is a heavy chapter with very heavy themes. Included: violence, blood, gore, injury, death.

Summary: Waiting at the RV for Tom gives you a chance to focus on every possible thing that might happen.

And when things come to a head, it all moves so much more quickly than you anticipate - but hey, at least you finally get some answers... right?

Author’s note:

It's the February full moon tonight, so what better day than to post this chapter? I've been looking forward to this one for a long time. There's only a little more to go in this story - the end of it is so close I can SEE it. Thank you so much for reading along up to this point, I hope you enjoy this one.

Masterlist (for the journal entries and all of the other 'extras' + previous chapters)

“It’s after midnight, Benny.” You checked your phone with one hand, the fingers of the other buried in the fur on the back of Frankie’s neck. “He’s just fucking with us now.” Frankie sighed, looking up at you from where his head rested in your lap. “Maybe he’s not coming. Maybe it was all just to put us on edge.”

“Nah, it was a threat.” Benny stood, stretching both arms above his head. “This ends tonight one way or the other.” He began to pace in front of you, hands sliding into his pockets. “I’m guessing he couldn’t figure out how to get outta that conference early and had to cut it real close with making it back here before sundown.” Benny stopped moving, scanning the treeline. “He wouldn’t be able to sneak up on us. Not with ‘Fish’s nose, so he’d need to figure something else out.” Frankie whined at that but didn’t make any attempt to get up.

When, after an hour or so had passed and Tom hadn’t shown his face, you stood to stretch your legs and do a lap around the clearing, Frankie had immediately followed, walking beside you - and between you and the treeline. And when you’d chosen to fold the blanket up and sit on it instead of getting back into your chair, he’d dropped down beside you, turning his head to rest it on your knee.

Neither of you had moved after, and you would have been lying if you’d said that having him so close while a wolf wasn’t comforting. When Benny had excused himself to use the bathroom, leaving you and Frankie in the quiet darkness, you’d started to pet the wolf, fingers stroking along the top of his head. It soothed you, and when you started talking quietly, you hoped your words did the same for him.

“It’s got to be killing you not to run.” You took a deep breath. “But you’re saving your energy. And Tom won’t be able to do that.” He whined again in response, the sound quick. “I’m glad you’re here with me. I’m glad you trust me to do this.” Bending forward, you kissed him between the ears. “You really are beautiful this way, Francisco. I hope you know that.” You sat up, the sound of the RV door opening again drawing your attention - and breaking the moment. “Have you heard from anyone else, Benny? Pope or Will or Yova?”

“No. All quiet. I think they’re waiting to hear from me.” He crouched down in front of you, clearing his throat. “Maybe you want to take another look around, hmm? Go out a couple yards into the trees and do a circle around us?” Frankie raised his head, staring at his friend. “Can’t hurt, right?”

To your surprise, Frankie stood and stretched, turning back to look at you - and then opened his mouth, extending his tongue to lick the side of your face. It made you laugh, but before you could say anything, he was trotting away from you and back toward the trees, head held high.

“It’s weird tonight.” You both watched as he disappeared into the night, leaving you behind. “Last time, when Tom showed up, the bugs and animals went quiet. Tonight, they’re already quiet because Frankie’s here.”

“I don’t know what the fuck we’re going to do if he doesn’t show up.” Benny whispered the words, purposely trying to keep his voice down. “I figured he’d be here by now.” Me too. “Will’s wife is safe, she’s in the city. And Pope and Yova are too far away for him to find.” You nodded. “The bar’s too busy and too public, so he won’t go there. Carmen and Becca … Lakeland’s on the way between Tampa and Orlando, but I really don’t think…”

“He wouldn’t. Benny, he… The Chaos line they don’t… kids are off limits. I don’t think I remember ever reading anything about -” But Tom didn’t seem to care who he attacked, and you were a prime example of that. And that’s terrifying.

Frankie returned, yipping softly to let you know it was him, and when he sat in front of you, he jerked his head back and forth twice. Nothing. Where the fuck are you, Tom? “Worth a shot to look.” Benny lowered his head, pulling his hat off and resituating it. “Hey.” He looked over at you, and then pointed at the RV door. “Do you need to go inside?” You did - and agreed, pushing to your feet and taking the few steps over to the door before pulling it open.

Benny had turned the TV on, the volume low while a movie played. Smart. You didn’t turn the lights on, and after doing what you needed to, you opened the refrigerator, reaching for one of the cans inside. Caffeine will be good. I need -

Your thoughts were interrupted as Frankie’s low growl filtered in through the window, followed by the crunch of gravel. Something’s happening. Drink forgotten, you broke for the door and went back outside to find Benny standing with one hand at his hip, fingers hovering over the butt of the gun there.

Frankie was crouched low, his tail puffy as he faced the far trees - the same ones Tom had emerged from the previous month… and then you heard it, a low, ominous howl that carried on the breeze. “He’s here.” Your hand went to your waist, too, and you pulled out the tranquilizer gun, making sure it was loaded before lifting and pointing it. “Benny, wh-”

“Where is he, ‘Fish? I can’t see ‘im.” Benny stepped forward, using the RV to protect his back. “In front? Behind? Side? Where the fuck is…” The howl came again, and at the sound, Frankie growled - that one louder than the first one, and lingering in his throat as he inched forward. His head moved back and forth as he searched in the darkness, and then without warning, Frankie took off, running for the trees and disappearing into them, leaving you and Benny behind. “What the fuck?” Benny took a few more steps, eyes on where the wolf had gone. “Why did -”

“He’s got to get Tom out of the trees.” You winced as you heard the snapping of branches and the rustling of leaves, eyes darting back and forth as you searched the darkness. “He’s forcing an attack and taking away the element of surprise.” Benny swore, and even though your heart was racing, you felt calm. More than I should, anyway. “If -”

The rustling turned to snarling, and then that turned into the distinct sound of fighting - barks and yelps accompanied by crashing noises, the sounds getting louder by the second. “They’re coming back. They -” Benny swore again as both of them tumbled through the tree line and into the clearing, teeth bared in snarls.

Your hands wavered when you saw the size difference.

Tom was much larger than Frankie, his jaws snapping as the two fought. They were a mess of fur and limbs as they moved toward you, and you realized that even though Frankie was focused on Tom, he was also consciously making the effort to bring him closer, giving you and Benny clearer shots.

Stepping away from Benny and giving yourself a different angle, you took a deep breath and tried to focus, watching as the fight raged on. Realistically, there’d need to be more than one dart used. Tom was big, and the more of the drug you got into the system, the better off you’d be.

You winced as Tom snapped his jaws and almost got a mouthful of Frankie’s neck, but the longer the fight played out, the more you realized that even though Tom was bigger, Frankie was faster - and much more confident in his movement. Good. You inched closer, waiting for your shot.

Frankie lunged, catching Tom by surprise, and moments later, the two wolves were rolling over the ground, Frankie’s jaws locked around one of Tom’s legs. They came to a stop with Tom on top, and though the fighting - and snapping - continued, Frankie didn’t try to get back up. He’s giving us a shot.

You aimed, took a breath and then fired as you let it out, the sound of the gun surprising you - and echoed moments later by a shot from Benny. One of the darts hit - and stuck - though you didn’t know whose it was, but the interruption didn’t phase Tom. They continued to fight, even as Benny fired again, swearing as the dart went wide. “I’m out! I need to reload!” You swore, flexing your fingers, and then fired again, too, that dart making contact and sticking out of Tom’s back. Thank God.

But he didn’t stop attacking Frankie, and you could see that the smaller wolf was getting tired, even if he was still holding his own. Glancing over at Benny, you watched as he grabbed for more darts - but your attention went back to the wolves as you heard Frankie howl in pain.

Tom’s jaws were locked around Frankie’s neck, but he wasn’t biting hard - despite Frankie struggling. You acted without thinking, dropping the gun before rushing forward as you reached into your pocket for the extra darts. “Tom! Let him go, you shitbag!”

Both wolves froze at the sound of your voice, and you heard Benny yell for you to back off - but you stood your ground, hand in your pocket and your fingers wrapped around the dart barrels. Shoot him, Benny. Fucking shoot him. I gave you time, what are you waiting for.

Frankie moved first, attempting to twist out of Tom’s hold but couldn’t. The other wolf clamped down and then jerked his head back and forth, shaking Frankie before letting go. You watched him fly across the clearing, eyes following the movement as you cried out. Your body moved forward without thinking, even though there was no way to get to Frankie unless you passed Tom.

Tom turned his attention in your direction, launching himself at you - and rather than fear, you only felt resignation. At least Benny will be able to get him. But before Tom got too close, you saw a red dot at the center of his chest, and your brows knit in confusion. What’s that from? Moments later, another cluster of darts landed there, sticking out of the dark fur. What?

That was the last thought you had before he collided with you, knocking you to the ground.

Your head bounced as you hit, but there was no time to think about it, the weight of Tom’s wolf settling atop you. You heard screaming but didn’t know where it was coming from, and as you kicked at Tom, trying to reenact what you’d done the previous month, you reached up and stabbed him in the side of the neck with the handful of darts, opening your mouth to scream in rage as you made contact. Take that you fuck. There was a sharp pain in your shoulder, and then his weight was gone, the sound of growling loud in your ears as you laid there, dazed.

What the fuck just … Attempting to push yourself upright, you hissed as you put weight on your left hand, and were stunned to see that Benny and Will were running across the clearing, carrying the net to where Frankie and Tom were still fighting - the two wolves rolling around in the gravel. Will? I’m seeing things, I …

“Oh, sweetheart.” You gasped as a pair of arms went around you from behind, and when you looked up, you saw Pope’s face, his eyes filled with concern. “Any one of us coulda told you thatt trying to be the hero’s a really fucking stupid idea.”

“P…Pope?” Your voice was shaky, but you continued. “How are you … why are you…”

“Not now.” He glanced up, and then looked back at you, reaching down to unzip your hoodie. “Need to get this off of you, alright?” You nodded, the small movement making your head throb. When you lifted your arm to pull it free from the sleeve, you were alarmed to see blood on it. Is that mine?

“I’m bleeding.” Where is it coming from? You felt fear coursing through you, but you kept your eyes on the ruined material, head shaking back and forth in disbelief at the sight of the tattered garment. Why is it ripped? “Pope, I -”

“It’s alright.” He tossed it to the side and then reached down, pulling off his own shirt and folding it, the man using both hands to press it against your shoulder. “It’s alright, you’re going to be alright, you -”

“He bit me.” You looked down, watching as the blood began to seep through the cotton. “Didn’t he. Pope, he -” What if I turn? What if I turn now and I hurt him? Or one of - “Get away from me.” You pushed against him with one hand, weakly trying to fight him off as tears began to leak from your eyes. “Pope if he bit me, I might -”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He wound an arm around you and used the weight of your body against his chest to hold the fabric against your skin. “And neither are you. I’ve got you. You’re with me, alright? Look. Look at them. Focus on them.”

You finally looked out and saw that Tom and Frankie were circling each other, the larger wolf clearly exhausted and beginning to succumb to the drugs in his system. He tripped but recovered, rearing back as Frankie lunged and snapped his jaws. Tom landed awkwardly, stumbling forward - and then he toppled over, giving Will and Benny a chance to drape the net over him.

He growled, the sound weak, but didn’t make any attempt to move. Got him. After one final look at Tom, Frankie turned in your direction. He snarled and sprang into action, crossing the distance to you and then skidding to a stop. He growled, his gold eyes blazing, but Pope didn’t flinch. “‘Fish, I -”

Frankie growled again and you reached out with your right hand, waiting for him to push his nose against your palm. His muzzle was covered in blood but you didn’t care, and as soon as he made contact, you started crying harder. He’s ok.

“I need to see it, Pope.” Glancing up, you saw that Will had made his way over from where Tom was trapped, his arms hanging loosely by his sides. “I need to see how bad it is.” Yeah, I need to know too. Straightening up, you winced when the pressure lessened and sucked in a breath as Pope pulled the t-shirt away from your shoulder, exposing the wound. “Oh, fuck.”

Will swore, covering his face with both hands. It’s bad. All you could do was stare at Frankie, trying to figure out how worried you needed to be based on his reaction. You watched as he sat down on his haunches and then tipped his head back before letting out a howl that was filled with so much anguish it sent a fresh round of tears streaming down your face. It echoed through the clearing, and you felt Pope flinch at the sound of it. Ok, so it’s really bad.

Letting your hand drop back into your lap, you took a deep breath and then looked up at Will. Shit. “Maybe sometime I’ll come out here and not get hurt.” He cracked a smile, jerking his thumb at the RV.

“Maybe. I’ll go get the first aid kit, alright? Then we’ll get you cleaned up.” Pope shifted behind you as Will walked away, and when you stayed upright, he got up, too, moving to stand in front of you.

“When Ironhead comes back out here, we’ll get you over to the picnic table.” Pope reached up, using the hand that wasn’t bloody to rub at the back of his neck. “Did you bring other clothes? We’re going to have to cut that shirt off, and -”

“Inside.” Swallowing around a lump in your throat, you closed your eyes. “There’s a couple of them in my bag.” He nodded, opening his mouth to say something else but you cut him off. “Go inside, Pope. Wash your hands. It’s fine. If… If Tom tried anything, I think Benny would - “

“If this asshole so much as moves an ear, it’ll be the last goddamn thing he does.” Benny looked over, and even in the dim light, you could see the sadness in his expression. “You alright?” No. “Stupid fucking question, I know. But -”

Pope followed Will inside, and that left you with Frankie, whose head was bowed, making it possible for him to avoid looking at you. You looked down at your shoulder, eyeing the wounds. I don’t want to look at it, either.

They were still bleeding freely, streams of red running down your skin and dripping onto your pants and the ground. It hurt - the pain a dull ache that radiated through your arm and the left side of your body. It’s going to hurt worse tomorrow. Moving it slowly, you bent your arm at the elbow and pressed your forearm against your belly. I need to keep it from moving.

“Francisco. If I was going to turn tonight, I would have already, right?” Frankie finally looked up, meeting your eyes. His were still gold, but there was so much of him in them that it made you gasp. “Right?”

His head moved up and down once, and though it was confirmation, it didn’t give you any real relief. It just means I have a month to sit and wait. Frankie whined, leaning forward to nudge at your uninjured arm with his head. You lifted that hand, stroking the side of his face. There’s nothing he can do right now and it’s got to be killing him.

“I want you to take these.” Will appeared again, holding out two circular tablets. “Pain pills. Might make you a little loopy for a couple hours, but your arm can’t feel good and it’ll help me do what I need to do.” You took them and then Will reached into the bag he carried and pulled out a bottle of water. “I’ll help you.” He knelt down in front of you, and to your surprise, Frankie growled again, moving closer to where you sat - almost like he was going to put himself between you and Will. “‘Fish, you -”

“Frankie, it’s fine. He’s just …” You pushed your shoulders back, wincing at the way your skin pulled. “He’s trying to help. Stop growling at him.” He curled his lip but did as you asked, staying put - and quiet - while you put the pills in your mouth and Will lifted the bottle to your lips. You took it from him, tipping your head back as you swallowed.

“How’s your head feel? You’re bleeding from there, too, I think.” Will took the water and set the bottle down after recapping it. “Let me check.” He reached for you, carefully turning your head back and forth as his fingers prodded gently at your hair. “You are bleeding, but it’s not a lot.” He sighed. “I’m going to help you up. We’re going to walk to the table, and then I’m going to clean your shoulder. It’s not going to feel good.”

“Pope’s getting me a new shirt.” You gestured to yours. “I don’t think I’ll be able to wear this one again.” The corner of his mouth twitched, but Will didn’t speak as he stood, waiting for you to shift your position so that you were kneeling. He reached out for you, using one large hand to grip your good elbow, and then steadied you with his other hand at your waist, helping to pull you to your feet.

You swayed as a wave of dizziness hit, stumbling forward as Will caught you. “I’ve got you.” He spoke quietly, the words barely audible over a whine from Frankie. “Can you walk? It’s just a couple feet.” You thought so and told him as much. As Pope reemerged from the RV, you eased into a sitting position on the picnic table’s bench, your back pressed to the edge of the tabletop.

“Do you need me over here, Ironhead? If not, I’m gonna go over with -”

“Why are you here?” You took a long breath as Will unzipped the first aid kit, reaching for scissors. “How are you here? Yova posted the -”

“Will and I got here this morning. He’s been up in the blind, and I was on top of the RV.” Pope shrugged. “Hid our scent using the same shit hunters do, and we just hoped Tom would think whatever he could smell was lingering from when we were here before.” He smiled. “Yova and I went to St. Augustine a couple weeks ago and took that. She’s there now, and so is my phone, so it’ll be like I was there, too.”

Frankie had moved to sit beside you, paws settled neatly in front of his body as he watched the three of you talk. “We needed clear shots at him.” Will spoke as he started to cut at your shirt, the scissors sliding easily through the thin material. “I never had one because they were fighting. Pope got one when he came toward you.”

“I got him with a couple darts, too.” You winced as he peeled the cotton from your skin. “I hope there’s enough left to keep him sedated until morning.”

“There is.” Pope patted his pocket. “I’m going over with Benny so we can keep an eye on that.” You nodded and he turned away, walking slowly across the clearing and leaving you with Frankie and Will, who was getting things ready from the kit.

“I’m sorry you have to keep bandaging me up.” You buried your fingers in Frankie’s fur, fingers curling tightly as Will began to wipe the blood away. Ow. “Can’t imagine this is what you want to be doing, so -”

“Not your fault.” He set bloody towels into a plastic container, sighing. “And I’m just glad I am here to do this for you, because as much as I love my little brother, he would have done a shit job.” He was quiet as he got back to work, and you focused your attention on Benny and Pope, the two circling slowly around the body of the wolf beneath the net.

“How bad is it?” Tilting your head away from your injured arm, you closed your eyes. “Do you need to stitch it, or -”

“Shouldn’t suture puncture wounds.” Will prodded gently at your skin, urging you to lean forward. “Traps the bacteria inside and makes infection more likely, even if we clean it.” Oh. “And … I won’t lie to you. He got you good. Couple of these marks will probably scar bad.” He touched your back again. “I think he hit bone here. Might actually have to stitch that one up, it’s more of a tear…” He sighed again. “Tom bit you. He bit you while in wolf form, and -”

“I know what that means.” You blinked back tears again. “I don’t think I’ll turn tonight. I asked Frankie and he -”

“It probably needs some time to work through your body.” Will began to clean your wounds and you hissed at the sting of it, though you assumed that with the drugs in your system, the pain was much less severe than it could have been. “I wish I could tell you that because you didn’t turn tonight, you wouldn’t, but …”

“I know.” You opened your eyes again, watching as Benny leaned over Tom and gave him another dose. “I guess I’m just in wait and see mode until next month, but …”

“He’s such an asshole.” Will wiped at the front of your shoulder, more bloody towels joining the others moments later. “I can’t believe he -”

“I can.” You weren’t gripping Frankie’s fur anymore, instead you were petting him, the soft hair between his ears slipping along your palm. “He’s miserable. And he had to know that I wouldn’t die from this, so he wanted me to have to deal with it for the rest of my life.” Absently, you swiped at your face, wiping the tears away. “What if because he bit me, I turn into one of them? An asshole wolf from an asshole line, and -”

“We won’t let you.” Will sighed. “‘Fish certainly won’t let you. And I don’t think you would let yourself do that, either. If Frankie was able to keep himself under control without help from another wolf for years, I think you can do it with all of our help.”

“You didn’t sign up for this, Will. You and Benny and Pope have your own lives and families, and -”

“You’re with ‘Fish. You’re part of that family, wolf or not.” It floored you - he spoke with such certainty, the admission matter of fact in a way that shouldn’t have surprised you from someone like him who clearly valued the people he was close to. “Now I need you to lean forward. It’s cleaned up, but I want to stitch some of it before I use antiseptic, and the part that needs stitches is low.” You did as he asked, Will reminding you to relax as much as possible.

He started stitching moments later, and even though it hurt, it was more of a background pain than anything else. “Frankie.” You hummed his name, fingers trailing over his fur. “You should go and get this blood off of you.” He got up, turning to face you, and then cocked his head to the side. “Your face. It’s…” Wait. “Is that yours? Are you bleeding?” You scanned the area where he’d been sitting, and only saw a few drops on the ground. “Are you OK? He threw you through the -”

He whined, tossing his head back and forth before he turned in a slow circle in front of you. No wounds. “He heals pretty quick like that.” Will cleared his throat. “His body’s real resilient.” Frankie sat again, looking between you and Will. “But she’s right. You should take a minute and go clean up, otherwise when you turn back, you’re going to be covered in blood.”

He didn’t want to leave you - you could tell in the way he sat, his attention unwavering. But he needs to. “It’s fine, Frankie. Go. There’s a creek close by, right?. He whined, pawing at the ground. “I’ll be here when you get back, and Will will be done, and -” He stepped forward and rubbed against your knees, and then spun away and trotted toward Benny and Pope. He paused long enough to growl at Tom and then broke into a run, disappearing through the trees.

“I’m almost done.” Will trailed his fingers over your skin, voice low. “Some of these are really deep, so they’ll probably keep oozing for a while. But I’m going to bandage it all for you. We’ll change them as needed, but definitely tomorrow when we get back home.” You nodded, staring off into the distance. “Now that he’s not here, how bad is it?”

“It fucking hurts.” You took a deep breath and sat up straight when you felt his touch disappear. You couldn’t see all of your wound, but you could see enough to know that it wasn’t pretty. “I need you to take pictures of it. I need to be able to show -”

“I already did.” He chuckled, nudging you with his elbow. “While you were talking to Pope. Used a burner so that there’s no real evidence of it just in case, but …” He sighed. “I’ll take more now that it’s all cleaned up.” He stood up and took photos - from the front and the back, before setting the phone down on the table. “Antiseptic, bandage and then we’ll get you dressed again. How’s that sound?”

“Good.” Looking up at him, you managed a smile, too. “I can’t say I’m too happy that I’ve been sitting here in just a bra for twenty minutes. Frankie’s probably not too thrilled, either.”

“Luckily for him - and for you, I am happily married.” He began to smear the antiseptic over your skin, the gel cold. “But this had to be done, otherwise it would have gotten infected for sure.” He wiped his hand on a clean towel and then reached for bandages. “I’m going to need you to hold the front of this in place while I tape it down, alright?”

You did as he asked, fingers gingerly pressing against the surface of the covering while Will secured it. And when he stretched it up and over your shoulder, you lowered your hand back into your lap. “I’d do it again, even knowing I’d get bitten.”

“What?” Will set the tape down, taking off his gloves and sticking them in with the rest of the trash. “Tonight, you mean?” “Yeah.” You eyed the trees, waiting for Frankie to come back. “Protecting him was … instinct. Getting Tom’s attention was the only thing that was going to keep him from going after Frankie again, and since I had the darts, I …” I think I knew what was coming. “I knew what a risk it was, but it didn’t matter.”

“He’s not going to see it that way.” Will murmured the words, leaning in so he could talk quietly. “He’s going to blame himself for not being able to take him down on his own.” I know. “No way in hell he could ever believe you don’t love him now, though.” Will leaned in, kissing the top of your head. “Come on, let me help you get this shirt on, and then we’ll get you inside, so -” “No.” You stood, wobbling again on unsteady legs. “You can help me get dressed, but I’m staying out here.”

Will didn’t argue with you, but after a few minutes of trying to get you into the new shirt, it became painfully obvious that putting it on the right way wasn’t an option. He used a clean pair of scissors to cut up the side of it - and through the sleeve - and that was enough. The material settled into place, and then with the help of a few large safety pins, he secured the side so that it wasn’t flapping.

That done, he reached into the kit and pulled out a sling, situating it on your shoulder and easing your arm into it. “It’s probably overkill, but anything you can do to keep it from moving right now will be good.” You nodded, still feeling woozy and a little lightheaded. “Are you cold?”

“No.” It surprised you - the night air was chilly enough that the sweatshirt had made things comfortable, but the thought of putting another one on made you frown. It’s adrenaline. Or… maybe it’s the wolf. “I’m fine, but thank you.” You put a hand on his chest, saying his name. “Thank you, Will. For taking care of me. For keeping a level head. For being such a good goddamn friend to Frankie and to me and -”

“I’d hug you, but you’re injured.” He smiled, the expression sad. “You’re welcome, though.” He gestured to the RV. “I’m going to go inside and clean up. And then I’m going to come back out here and light a fire to burn this shit.” He pointed at the bucket. “Your pants should probably go in there, too, but if you don’t want to do that, I understand.

“No, I need to.” Rubbing at the bridge of your nose, you sighed. “Help me inside, Will.”

Ten minutes later, you were dressed in a new pair of sweatpants the old ones were well on their way to becoming ash.

Frankie had returned while you were inside with Will, and when you’d stepped back outside, he was waiting for you, his clean muzzle resting on his paws as he eyed the door. He stood as you passed him, staying close by as you made your way over to where Tom was, Pope and Benny seated on camp chairs and staring down at the ground.

“Will get you taken care of?” Benny fidgeted with his hat as he questioned you, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Tom. “Do you want to sit? You can have my chair, I’ll stand. Can’t promise I’m not going to kick this motherfucker in the head a few times, though, and -”

“Benny.” Pope held up a hand. “Cool it.” Benny’s mouth snapped shut, and despite the seriousness of the situation, the urge to laugh was strong.

“No, I don’t want your chair. I’ll sit on the ground.” You yawned and then frowned. “What time is it? I didn’t even check my phone.”

“A little after 3.” Will walked up behind you and draped a new blanket over your shoulders. “Just about four hours until the sun starts to come up.” There’s no way I’m going to make it that long. “Those pills are probably making you tired.” He pressed his lips together, narrowing his eyes. “Your eyes were alright before, so I don’t think you have a concussion. You can sleep if you want.”

“I’m staying out here. I want to be here when he wakes up.” But sitting down would be nice. Reaching out, you braced yourself on Will’s arm and then began to lower yourself toward the ground. He followed your lead immediately, only moving away once you were settled - but then Frankie sat next to you, tilting his head so that he could touch it to yours. “It’s alright, Frankie. I’m just tired. I -” You yawned again, opening your eyes to his paw on one of your knees. “What?”

He spun in a circle and then laid down, positioning his body so that he was facing Tom. Does he want me to lay down, too? The thought was appealing - you figured he’d be comfortable, and so with the other guys watching, you eased yourself down so that you were able to rest your head against his side. Frankie whined quietly as you settled in, but didn’t make any effort to move.

The others started talking after a few minutes, but you just stared forward, eyeing the slow rise and fall of Tom’s chest as he breathed.

You knew that you were likely in shock. You knew that everything happening so quickly had almost definitely kept you from dwelling on the severity of your situation.You were focused on Tom - and on finding out why he’d made the choices that he had. And when that’s done, I’ll have time to think about what he did to me… and what it means.

But Frankie’s deep, even breathing and the presence of the painkillers in your system distracted you even more, and only minutes later, your eyes closed and you slipped into sleep.

—

You woke when Frankie moved, his head turning so that the could nudge you with it. And you woke to pain, your eyes opening to the early morning twilight accompanied with a wince. “Ow.” It all came back at once - the attack, the capture of Tom, the way Will had taken care of you. And the way Frankie protected me while I was sleeping.

“Will went inside to get you more painkillers.” Pope spoke up. “Sunup’s soon. You slept for -”

“Hours.” Using your right hand, you pushed upright. “How the fuck did I …”

“Adrenaline wore off.” Benny sniffed, nose wrinkling. “You’re hurt. The pain pills… all of it together?” He met your eyes. “I’d fall asleep, too.”

He was probably right. And even though you were still in pain, the hours of rest had helped - at least with clearing your head. “Thank you for letting me sleep. You’ve all been awake for hours, though, and -”

“I napped in the blind.” Will handed you medication, and then took a seat next to you, holding a bottle of water. “Benny slept the fuck in today. And Pope slept for a couple hours on top of that RV, too.” You swallowed the pills, still eyeing the unconscious man in front of you. “We’re all good.” But what about Frankie?

He sat all the way up, his ears going back, and you wondered what he was sensing - something in one of you or in Tom, though you didn’t ask. “If you say so.” The blanket slid to the ground as you rubbed at your eyes, thinking. “What next?” You took another drink of the water, gesturing at Tom with the bottle. “Do you think he’ll wake up as soon as he turns back? Or -”

“Donno.” Benny shrugged. “But as soon as he’s conscious, he’s got it coming.” Frankie’s answering growl chilled you, but you didn’t disagree.

You sat in silence as the light continued to brighten, though it was dimmed thanks to cloud cover, and when Frankie moved again, it was to stand - turning around and picking up your blanket in his teeth. He’s about to turn back. “Clothes are by the table, ‘Fish.” Will sighed. “Go do what you need to do.” He hesitated, but then walked away, dragging the blanket behind him.

Only a minute or two later, you heard him whimpering, the sounds turning into human-leaning groans and grunts. Part of you was happy you couldn’t see what was happening that time, because you knew that as soon as he was human again, Frankie would be in anguish. And I don’t know how I’ll respond.

You didn’t have long to wait. He was by your side again rapidly, dropping down onto his knees as he reached for you with both hands, cradling your face between them. “I am so fucking sorry.” He swallowed, head shaking back and forth. “I should have stopped him. I should have taken him the fuck down. I -”

“I did what I did.” Reaching up, you ran your fingers through his curls. “It was worth it, Francisco.”

“You won’t be saying that next month.” He blinked, a few tears coursing down his cheeks. “I failed. I fuc-”

“He’s changing.” Pope’s tone was urgent, and at his words, you and Frankie turned your attention to Tom. Oh, shit. Frankie helped you to your feet and then stood with one arm around you, both of you a safe distance from where the half-man, half-wolf Tom laid.

The others rose, too, Benny holding one of the guns in his hand, and Will’s hand hovering over his hip. “Pope, I need you to come here.” Frankie called for his friend, and moments later, they’d switched places. It felt odd to have his arm around you, but you understood why it was happening when Frankie approached Tom, bending over to rip the net off of him. He grunted, the silver still irritating his skin even as a human.

When Tom was uncovered, the transformation happened faster - pale skin reemerging and his limbs lengthening, though there was no indication he was actually awake. “Can we cover him?” You muttered the words, rolling your eyes.”Last thing I want to see is Tom naked.” Pope actually snorted, but it was Benny that moved, the man crouching down and then flinging a piece of fabric at Tom. Boxers. It’s boxers.

None of you spoke after that, just waiting, and you felt the anger in you growing by the second. You were angry for what he’d done to you, but you were almost more upset at the betrayal of his friends. After everything they went through. “Wake the fuck up, Redfly.” Frankie stepped forward, lashing out with one foot. “Get up.” You didn’t know if it would work, because you didn’t know how recently he’d gotten a dose of the tranquilizer. But they would have backed off close to sunrise.

Shifting your weight, you leaned against Pope, trying to ignore the dull ache in your shoulder. They’d removed all of the darts from Tom’s body while he slept, and there was no indication that there’d been a fight earlier - except for the blood smeared across parts of his skin. “Is the bite on his side?” You tried to angle your head to see it, but couldn’t from your position. “Benny?”

“Sure fuckin’ is.” He stepped forward, too, the gun still drawn. “Right fucking there.” Benny froze when Tom’s arm twitched, and you held your breath as his leg joined it, Frankie’s posture stiffening briefly. Here we fucking go.

Tom groaned, moving one hand to his face and rubbing at his forehead. “Don’t even -”

“I’m not going to fucking try anything. I know you’ve got fuckin’ guns on me, Cat.” Frankie’s lip curled, but Tom kept going. “Do I get to put pants on, or are we going to have this conversation like this?”

“You get a pair of underwear and that’s only because I don’t want you to try and justify any of this shit with your dick in my face.” Tom reached for the fabric and you looked away as he pulled the material on and up his legs. He kept his eyes averted, and when they were in place, he drew his knees up, resting his arms atop them. “Talk.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” Tom looked between all of you, his gaze lingering on you. “You know what I did. You know what I am. You -”

“Why?” You spat the word out, gesturing to yourself. “Why the fuck did you do this? To me? To Alec? To all of the other goddamn people you’ve attacked?”

“Who the fuck is Alec?” Tom cocked his head to the side, obviously confused. “That name wasn’t in any of the …” He laughed, licking his lips as it clicked. “The one with the wolf.”

“My cousin.” You snarled the words out, straightening up. “My cousin and the mother of his fucking child.” He hadn’t expected that - and even though you knew Frankie had a lot of things to say, you kept going. “My family has been looking for a wolf in the Chaos line for years. So how the hell did you manage to find one and convince them to turn you, Tom?”

“Your family? How do you know what the line is called? Who the fuck are …” He trailed off. “Are you goddamn hunters? Not doing a great job of that, if you and your cousin are both fucking the wolves you were looking for.” It would have made you laugh if you weren’t so angry, but instead it just ignited the rage in you more.

“We weren’t just looking for wolves, you asshole. We were looking for the Chaos line, and it led me straight here. To you.”

“Why, Redfly?” Frankie planted his feet, arms crossed over his chest. “Why the fuck did you do this? After we came back from South America, we had a plan, and you just …” He scoffed. “You just decided to say fuck it and get yourself bitten so that you could go on a goddamn rampage across the state?”

“I found wolves a couple months after we got home.” Tom stared at Frankie, his breathing deep. “Real fuckin’ easy when you have money and spend all day online at work.” He looked over at the others, rolling his eyes at the way Benny was pointing the gun at him. “You really gonna shoot me, Ben?” Tom laughed. “You wouldn’t.”

“You wanna bet?” Benny took a slow breath. “I just have a lot of shit I want to hear you say before it happens.” Damn straight. “Keep fucking talking.”

“It took a hell of a lot of convincing, but after a while, they finally…” He reached over, settling his hand on the bite mark. “You don’t appreciate what this is, ‘Fish.” He smiled, the expression turning your stomach. “I feel so fucking strong. Powerful. People fucking respect me again, and -”

“No they don’t.” You stepped forward. “Nobody respects you, Tom. You hurt people. You killed people.” You pointed at your shoulder. “You fucking bit me, and -”

“Now you get to see how great this is.”

“She didn’t fucking want to.” Frankie inched closer, his tone filled with rage. “Just like I didn’t fucking want to. This isn’t a gift, Tom. None of the people you hurt wanted it, either. They were just -”

“Wrong place, wrong time.” Tom shifted his weight, his smile growing. “That’s one of the things the woman who bit me made me understand.” He rolled his neck, letting out a sigh that turned into a satisfied groan. “For that one night a month, I am a fucking God. People should be afraid of me… of us, ‘Fish. And if you just let yourself be what you are…. Fuck. Don’t you miss it? Don’t you miss the way we felt while we were enlisted? The way we could -”

“No.” Frankie straightened his shoulders, his voice unwavering. “I don’t. I don’t miss hurting people or intimidating people or acting like a piece of shit.” It had started raining as they talked, a fine mist falling through the tree limbs above you, and you shivered. Of course it’s raining.

“Oh, get off your fucking high horse.” Tom pushed to his feet, and you could feel the others tense up, though they all stayed in place. “Acting like you’re better than me after all the shit you did. After all that coke and losing your license, and -” Frankie moved first, one arm shooting out, fingers bent into a fist. He made contact with Tom’s jaw, the sound an audible crack even from a distance. “Wasn’t expecting that.” Tom rubbed his cheek, giving Frankie a lopsided smirk.

“Does Molly know?” Will cut in, diverting Tom’s attention. “Does Tessa know? Are they aware that you’re -”

“No.” He spun toward the older Miller, his eyes wide. “No they have no fucking idea, and that’s how it’s going to stay.” One question answered. “Just like they have no idea about South America. I don’t make it a habit of telling everyone my secrets just because I’m sleeping next to them.”

It was a low blow - and you all knew it, but Frankie still took the bait. “Well that’s another way we’re different. I think the person I’m sleeping next to should know all of my secrets.” Tom’s laugh was loud, and you heard Pope swear from next to you, the hand on your back pushing a little more firmly. “What was your plan, Tom? For tonight, I mean. Were you going to kill all three of us and then just go back to your life?”

“No.” He turned to look at you. “I was going to make her watch me kill you and then bite her so she’d have to live through it without you.”

“You think I would have just let that fucking happen?” Benny’s hand shook but he didn’t lower the gun. “Kill my best friend and hurt someone else I care about and then just run off? Fuck that. Fuck you.”

“You’ve been holding? that gun on me for I don’t even know how long. If you were going to shoot me, you would have done it already.” Tom’s head swiveled to Will and then to Pope, his brow arched. “None of you have the balls to fuck with me. How many times have I saved your ass since we met? How many times have I carried the entire fucking mission? In South America, I -”

“You’re the reason I got bitten.” Frankie cleared his throat. “You insisted we take all that extra money. You wouldn’t let us get rid of it when I said we needed to. You’re the one that pulled the trigger first on those guys in the village.” Frankie pointed at Tom. “Some of it’s my fault, because I should have fucking known better. But you, Tom, are the main reason why I’m standing here right now like this, and the fact that you still think you’re the good guy is un-fucking-believable.”

“I’ll introduce you to the people that turned me.” He gestured at you. “You and your little girlfriend. You can learn about what it means to be a real -”

“I’d rather be dead than ever take advice from a Chaos wolf.” You pushed forward, closing the distance between yourself and Tom. “You might have fucked me over for the rest of my life, but I will never be like you.” Tom stayed quiet but his smile widened, and you caught a red flash in his eyes. He’s wound up. “Frankie and Ashley are proof that you don’t have to overcompensate for your shortcomings as a human while you’re a w-”

“Fucking bitch. You come here and you think you can just change everything?” Frankie’s jaw was clenched, but he let Tom continue. “I should have made sure when I attacked you last month that I fucking killed you. You don’t deserve this.”

“Well you didn’t.” Your heart was pounding, and the dizziness was back. “That time or this time. You fucking failed, and -”

He lunged at you, and in the same moment, Pope pulled you backwards and Frankie jumped forward, tackling Tom to the ground. They fought for a little while, rolling around in the gravel and sparse grass, and you winced at the way they traded punches, fists flying and the sound of flesh on flesh punctuating their grunts.

It was brutal, especially since both of them were likely exhausted, and when they separated, both of them were bleeding - Frankie from a split on his cheek and Tom from his mouth, his teeth stained red.

“What’s it gonna be, ‘Fish?” He pushed himself to his feet, eyeing the other man. “We gonna keep fighting like this, or are you going to actually do something about it?” Tom spat blood onto the ground and then wiped at his face with the back of his hand. “Because I’ve been looking for a reason to fucking destroy you ever since I made this choice.” He laughed, the sound unnerving. “Maybe when I get out of here I should go pay Becca a visit. Or Yova. We can all be -”

Frankie darted in again, and for the first time, you realized just how much helping to coach Benny had served him. His jabs were quick and accurate, landing against Tom’s ribs and stomach, and even though the larger man got a few hits in, they were nowhere near as devastating. C’mon, Frankie. You leaned into Pope’s side, unable to do anything but watch the fight in front of you.

But in the early morning light, it was easy to see when Tom gave up, his eyes closing as he inhaled, chest expanding. “He’s turning, Frankie!” You yelled out as it happened, Tom’s transformation almost instantaneous. Once he was the wolf, he didn’t move to attack, instead just circled Frankie slowly.

Benny and Will backed up a few steps, and with some surprise, you felt Pope pull out and aim a third gun at Tom and Frankie. “Can’t even fight me like a man, can you.” Frankie laughed, fingers rising and combing through his already damp hair. “Piece of shit. You’re pathetic.Threatening women? You’re a goddamn coward.” Tom lunged forward, but Frankie sidestepped him, his gaze rising to meet yours briefly.

You’ve got to do it, Frankie. He’s not going to make it easier for you. You didn’t know if Tom would actually let Frankie turn all the way before he attacked, but it was the only option you had - unless Benny and Will were able to get the net back over him. Unlikely though. It was too far away - and diverting attention from Tom even for a second to get it was dangerous. And speaking of danger… “I don’t have a weapon, Pope. I -”

“You won’t need one.” He planted his feet, still watching Frankie and Tom. “We’ve got it.” You had to trust him - for Frankie’s sake, and for your own.

Tom continued to growl, the two of them circling each other, and then almost out of nowhere, Frankie’s body exploded into the wolf’s, the transformation happening before you’d even had a chance to blink. Oh, shit. He hit the ground and sprung toward Tom, jaws open… and then the real fight started.

Will and Benny spread out, guns still drawn, and you heard Pope swear from beside you, the end of his gun wavering slightly as he watched it unfold.

There was no reason for either of them to hold back that time, and it was clear from the way they snapped and clawed at each other, fur flying with every strike. Frankie drew first blood, his jaws closing around Tom’s shoulder, and when he jerked his head, you watched the larger wolf’s skin tear, Tom howling in pain. Good. You fucking deserve it. Frankie backed away, ears back as he growled, waiting to see what Tom would do.

“C’mon, ‘Fish.” Benny called out, voice rising. “Get him. Fucking get him.” You wondered how Tom felt hearing his other friend rooting against him, but it didn’t seem to deter him. You gasped when he lunged forward, diving for the ground and rolling onto his back. The low position gave him an opening to snap at Frankie’s front leg, and you winced at the way he responded - the sound filled with anguish as he struggled to free the limb. If he breaks Frankie’s legs it’s over.

But Frankie got free, barely giving himself a moment to assess the damage before he was attacking again, going for Tom’s belly before the other wolf could get upright. There was more blood, and even though it had started raining harder, you could see it dripping from both of them. Swiping your hand over your face, you cried out as Tom jumped toward Frankie again, ramming into him and knocking him over, his weight falling on top of the smaller wolf.

“No!” You stumbled forward, ears trained on the way Frankie’s growl had turned into a whine and then a whimper, Tom whipping his head to the side as he attempted to get his jaws around his neck. He’s going to snap his neck. He’s going to kill him. “Tom, stop!” You fell to your knees, heart pounding, and you wondered why none of the others had fired. They could have shot him. They could have weakened him. They could have …

But they were giving Tom and Frankie a chance to keep it between them, and part of you respected that - even if you wouldn’t have done the same. Just as Tom’s muzzle began its descent toward Frankie’s neck, the sound of a gunshot rang out, both wolves freezing.

It was only a moment’s pause, but it was enough, and Frankie was able to twist out of Tom’s pin and get back to his feet, shaking himself out as he stabilized. Ok. Ok, that’s better. That’s… Frankie growled again and jumped, rising into the air and sailing over Tom’s back before landing and pouncing.

The move was a surprise, and when Tom turned his head toward Frankie, Frankie went in the other direction, finding an expanse of his throat and clamping down on it. Tom flailed - feet scrabbling on the wet ground as he thrashed back and forth, the sounds coming out of him enough to make your hair stand on end. This is it.

You watched as Benny and Will stepped closer to the wolves, and then felt Pope do the same, his body tense and the gun still pointed forward. But you didn’t think it would be necessary, as Frankie’s jaws locked onto Tom’s throat again, the bite deep.

“He’s done. He just doesn’t know it yet.” Will spoke from beside you, his voice quiet. “Shit.” Tom was losing strength, but still managed to throw Frankie off of him, the smaller wolf skidding a few feet before he stood up straight, shaking his head. He was limping, the bite on his leg from Tom obviously bothering him, but as he circled the spot they’d been fighting, you realized that the roles had reversed - and it was Frankie taunting Tom.

“You don’t have to watch.” Will spoke directly into your ear. “It might change the way you feel about -”

“That’s why I do have to.” You reached up, swiping beneath your eyes and wiping the tears that had gathered there away. “I’m part of this now, and I can’t hide from it.” You weren’t sad that Tom was going to die. But you did feel for Frankie, especially knowing that he’d remember every moment of the fight and the process of killing someone that had once been like family.

It happened without warning, Frankie darting forward and angling his head, Tom unable to get out of the way in time. His teeth bore down on the center of Tom’s throat, and that time, when his head jerked away, a large chunk of muscle and fur came with it. Frankie tossed it to the side as Tom toppled to the ground, and when, moments later, you watched as his chest stopped rising and falling, Frankie lowered his head, too.

He sat, staring at the body of what had been his friend… and then Frankie tipped his head back and howled again, the sound almost unbearably loud. If you’d thought he sounded sad after realizing that you’d been bitten, you didn’t know how to describe the sound he made then, a mixture of triumph and agony, the tone of it shaking you to your core.

You understood - no matter how much Tom’s behavior had changed and how deserving he was of the ending he’d been given, there were years of history there. And not just for Frankie. For the rest of them, too.

A quick look around the group proved that the others were just as torn - Benny’s eyes focused on the wolves, unblinking as the rain hit his skin. Will’s arms were crossed, his head held high, but the telltale tic of his jaw made it clear he was struggling, too. And Pope’s response was the most surprising of all, the man stepping forward and then kneeling, shoulders rising and falling as he stared at the two in front of him.

You wondered if Tom was going to change back, but the longer you all waited, the more you thought that the answer was no. Which is better because then there’s no human body. But Frankie hadn’t changed back either, which was a surprise to you - especially with how soon after the monthly shift it was. Maybe he needs help. Maybe he needs …

Stepping forward, you rounded Tom’s body and knelt in front of Frankie, trying to ignore how much your arm hurt. “Hey. Francisco.” You kept your voice low and didn’t let yourself reach for him, even though you wanted to. “You need to change back now. It’s ok. There’s no more threat.” He blinked slowly, turning his attention to you, and for the first time as a wolf, his eyes weren’t gold - they were deep brown and entirely Frankie. “Hey you. It’s alright.” Your voice shook, but you didn’t even know if he realized it. “Come back to me. Please?”

It took a few seconds, but when Frankie rose onto all fours and shook himself out, you released a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding. There was no gradual change that time either, and only moments later, Frankie was laying on the ground in front of you - naked, soaking wet, and covered in blood and bruises.

The first place he looked was at Tom, but he didn’t linger there, turning his head toward you without lifting it, his lips soundlessly forming your name. You scrambled toward him without thinking, and gathered him carefully against your chest, ignoring the pain and only focusing on comforting him. He clung to you, his entire body shaking as he began to cry. You needed to get up - needed to get out of the rain and get Frankie cleaned up, needed to take care of Tom’s body and the clearing… but you couldn’t move.

When a blanket covered the two of you, you looked up in surprise, catching Benny’s eye. “Just stay with him, we’ll take care of -”

“No!” Frankie growled the word out, lifting his head and looking at his friend. “No, I’m helping.” You didn’t argue and neither did Benny, and when Frankie slowly got to his feet, wrapping the blanket around himself, he finally looked at you again, reaching for your hand.

The two of them helped you to your feet, and then as you walked away from the body, you tried to gather your thoughts. Tom was dead. Frankie had killed him. And it stood to reason that that meant there was significantly less danger to worry about. But it means a different kind of danger, too.

You went back and stood under the awning, leaning against the picnic table. Frankie rushed past you, going back into th RV and coming out with some of the blood gone from his skin and wearing another new set of clothes - tattered ones that you’d never seen before. He stopped next to you, reaching out to cup your cheek in his hand, but he didn’t say anything.

“Keep an eye on the fire, alright?” Will came up next to you, holding a pile of damp fabric. “We’re just going to keep adding stuff to it as we clean.” You nodded without looking away from Frankie, leaning in when he swiped his thumb over your cheek. We have so much to talk about.

“I wish I could do more.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “But whatever you need, I’ll take care of.” Will thanked you before setting the pile down next to the firepit, and then he motioned for Frankie to follow him. He was limping - and you knew he would be for a while, but as they approached Tom, you admitted to yourself for the first time and things could have gone much worse. For all of us.

As you started slowly adding the scraps of clothing to the flames, you kept half an eye on what the men were doing.

It didn’t take them long to come up with a plan, all of them conferring as they gathered around the body before separating. Pope headed back toward you, carrying another small pile of clothing. “We’re going to take him to one of the swampy areas. ‘Fish says there’s gators in all of the ones around here, so that should take care of the… body.” He sniffed. “Gotta go grab a bag of marshmallows though, just to be sure.”

That made you smile, but it was short lived. “Can I do anything while you’re doing that?”

“No. Just the fire. Make sure everything’s ash. Once we come back, we’re going to start on the clearing, but the rain’s going to work in our favor.” He sighed. “Thank you for helping.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” You added another piece of shirt, glancing down to make sure it wasn’t just going to smolder. “Just make sure he’s alright.” Pope assured you he would, and then went back into the RV, coming out with a bag in his hand.

He stuffed it into the front of his shirt and made his way back to where everyone else was. You watched as they worked together to lift the wolf’s body before carrying it toward the tree line. Once they disappeared, you sat down, finally alone with your thoughts for the first time.

It was still raining - the puddles on the ground growing by the second, and you wondered just how much the water would disperse the blood - and if it would be enough. They know how to cover their tracks. You poked at the flames with a branch, and then put in another piece of fabric - one of the blankets - which was much larger and much drier, the flames growing and brightening as it caught.

And then, as you waited for it to turn to ash, you focused on the ache of your arm, the pain radiating from your shoulder and throughout the rest of your body. You’d been bitten by a werewolf during the full moon, and you knew what that meant. Your entire life was going to change, and you had no idea what the outcome would be.

It was devastating - to have finally found what your family had been searching for for decades, and then to have been unable to safely do your expected job without getting bitten. And it meant that the hunting of the Chaos line was definitely finished, too, whether you liked it or not. You blinked through tears, standing and making your way into the RV for the bag of your ruined clothing, and when you caught sight of your reflection in the mirror hanging beside the door, the tears spilled over.

It was partly because of your bite, but your sadness was also for Frankie and his friends - the finality of what they’d done and witnessed likely not settled in yet, and the difficulty of what was to come likely to be an uphill climb. For all of us. Wiping at your eyes, you only gave yourself a few seconds before heading back outside and to the fire, ripping the plastic open and adding both pieces at the same time. We’ll need to get the zippers out of the ashes.

Instead of sitting, you wandered back out into the clearing and looked for any fabric that might have been missed, along with anything else that you could burn. There wasn’t much - a few scraps of t-shirt from Frankie, and some torn elastic from the waistband of Tom’s underwear - but you picked it up nonetheless, carrying it back over and dropping it into the flames.

It was almost 9 am, and you knew that Yovanna was likely going crazy since she hadn’t heard from anyone, so you went back inside and typed out a quick message to her that told her nothing explicitly - but still let her know that everything at the RV was alright. Good morning, hope you guys are having better weather at the beach than we are here; it’s raining so hard! Can’t pack up and go home until it slows down - yuck.

She answered almost immediately, sending a picture from through a window of the ocean and the blue sky, along with a message of her own.

Fingers crossed it stops soon. The weather is perfect here.

Leaving your phone on the table, you grabbed an armful of towels and then went back outside, just in time to see the guys coming back through the trees. Will was in the lead and the others followed close behind. They were all soaked to the bone, and you had no idea how the clothes they wore would burn. They won’t. Biting your lip, you watched as they got closer.

To your surprise, they all stopped and began to strip about ten feet from where you stood, piling their clothes in front of them. Under any other circumstances, it would have been a beautiful thing to see, but that morning, it was somber. Will dragged his hands through his hair and Benny swiped his locks away from his face, both of them heading for you in only their underwear as Frankie and Pope stayed behind, deep in conversation.

They grabbed towels, thanking you for thinking of getting them as they started to dry themselves off. “Is… how did that go?”

“Gator came and grabbed him almost as soon as we put him in the water.” Benny rubbed at his face. “And then a couple more joined in.” That was a good thing, though you didn’t imagine that it had been easy for them to see. “He stayed a wolf, which is lucky for us. So even if something is eventually found, it won’t be …” It won’t be Tom.

“I’m sorry about your friend. I -”

“He got what was coming to him.” Will cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for his family, but Tom made his choice.” You agreed, but that didn’t negate the guilt you felt. “We’re going to take turns cleaning up. Can’t fully shower here, because there’s too many of us. But we need to wait for the rain to stop to check the clearing. So we’re going to be here for a while.”

“Should I make breakfast? You’ve all got to be starving, especially Frankie.” It would keep you busy - and from getting too lost in your own thoughts. “I don’t know what’s here, but there’s got to be stuff in the cabinets.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” Pope and Frankie stepped up, and Benny handed them each a towel. “You need to eat too.”

You agreed, but didn’t get anything else out before Pope said he was going to go inside and make a pot of coffee. Benny and Will followed moments later, leaving you and Frankie alone - and under the awning, the sound of rain hitting the metal above you soothing.

It was different between you - a distance that had never been there previously feeling like it was growing by the second - and you hated it. “Frankie, are we …. Are we alright?” You didn’t like asking - didn’t like voicing your worry to him, especially after what he’d been through, but you couldn’t help yourself. “This feels … I just …”

“I don’t want to have this conversation here.” He turned his head, eyes scanning the open space in front of you. “I want to do it when we’re warm and dry and showered.” That made sense, but it still didn’t answer your question. “Are you doing ok? Aside from the bite, I mean.”

“I think so.” You inched closer, nodding. “I don’t think it’s really hit me yet, though. So much has happened in the last few hours, and -”

“You know I’m gonna be right there with you, right? Next month, I mean. You’re not alone, and you won’t be.” He cleared his throat. “And even if you don’t want to stay here and go through this in Florida with me, you’ve got Ashley and Alec, and they’re your family, so -”

“I don’t want to go anywhere.” You put your hand on his chest, his skin warm despite the fact that he was still damp. “If… when I turn next month, there’s no one else I want to be with.” You saw the relief on his face, and for the first time, realized that Frankie had not only had to go through the previous hours dealing with Tom, but with the thought in his mind that because you’d been bitten, you wouldn’t want anything to do with him anymore. “Frankie, this doesn’t change how I feel about you.” You stepped closer, making sure to make - and hold - eye contact with him. “Not at all.”

“You sure?” He ducked his head, tucking his chin against his chest. “Because I’d understand if you wanted to get the fuck out of here and not look back. I did this to you. I -”

“This isn’t your fault. I don’t blame you. I blame Tom. You didn’t do this to me, he did.” You leaned in, hesitating only briefly before pressing your lips to his. “I love you, Francisco. That didn’t change overnight, and it won’t.” It seemed to be enough for him, because he nodded and then reached for you, winding both arms around you and pulling you closer, though he did it gently. “We need to go inside. We need to get dry clothes on and eat something, and -”

“Yeah.” Frankie agreed but didn’t let you go. “Yeah, we do.”

—

#liminality #READ THIS STORY NOW #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier au #werewolf frankie #werewolf au #francisco catfish morales #something tofightfor #fic rec fic rec fic rec!!!

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flightlessangelwings · 1 year ago

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Being inclusive with your reader insert fic is a kindness. It tells people of color (poc) that you are considering someone who does not look like you in your fic. It shows love and dedication to our craft. It tells poc that they belong here too and they can see themselves in your story.

Poc aren’t look for activism in fic, we know fandom isn’t that serious, but we should be able to have that same level of escapism when we turn to fic and fandom. We belong here too. This space is for everyone, not just one group of people.

Just to give a few examples of how simple it can be: say “skin warmed” instead of blushed, say “cradled your head” instead of running fingers through hair, say “angles yourself to kiss” instead of standing on tiptoes, use italics to indicate Spanish to take out a throwaway line of “you didn’t understand Spanish” things like that. Small changes that do not impact the fic at all but make a world of difference in inclusivity!

And for anything you can’t/don’t want to change, simply add warning in the beginning. Things like hair descriptors, anything reader might wear, some backstory for reader (especially involving family or where the story is set), readers job, things like that. A lot of times just having that heads up before the fic makes a world of difference!

And one example of kindness we as writers always worked to change: until recently (just a couple years ago) it wasn’t common to label the gender of the reader. But those who aren’t female asked writers to label it so they know which to read and which to avoid, and now it’s common to label the gender/pronouns of the reader. So it is possible! It just takes effort! And I’m a writer myself so I know it can be done!

We can pretend to be a bartender or a bounty hunter or an actress or anything else. But we shouldn’t have to imagine we’re a white one.

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moodstabilizr · 7 months ago

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FIC RECS ㅤ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

𐚁 joel miller ㅤ♡ྀི ₊

❂- sweet child o’mine @macfrog

❂- sex on fire @macfrog

❂- roommates @punkshort

❂- helen @kiwisbell

❂- on strawberries and masonry @hellowoolf

❂- so much to lose @auteurdelabre

❂- i know who you are @punkshort

❂- just and just as @familyvideostevie

❂- the meaning of it all @familyvideostevie

❂- talking body @joelsdagger

❂- jet & ghost @macfrog

❂- all the things i would do @joelsdagger

❂- pretty baby @mrsmando

❂- garter @softlyspector

❂- meet me in the back @atticrissfinch

❂- meet me in the woods @pedgito

❂- i know it when i see it @bageldaddy

❂- fwb!joel @hier--soir

❂- under the night sky @hier--soir

❂- patrols @pedgito

❂- dilf!joel @notjustjavierpena

❂- sundown @bageldaddy

❂- mechanic!joel @alltheirdamn

❂- nicest thing @schnarfer

❂- the way we were @punkshort (my comfort fic :,))

❂- every breath you take @freelancearsonist

𖤓 frankie morales 𖤓

•- on call @luxurychristmaspudding

•- table for two @hellishjoel

•- do me yourself @undercoverpena

•- acts of service @swiftispunk

•- emergency contact @javiscigarette

•- i like the way you @undercoverpena

•- freckle confessions @rocketrhap3000

•- the weekend getaway @absurdthirst

•- endurance @schnarfer

�� javier pena ♱

✦- javi&wife @notjustjavierpena

✦- go your own way @schnarfer

✦- accident @promisingyounglady

🕸️ aegon ii targaryen🕸️

✦- fell into love like a sword

✦- the rats @nebulaafterdark

✦- dinner and diatribes @officialaemondtargaryen

✦- the heavenly ivory touch of your hand @thekinslayed

✦- aegons bday social media au (not a fic but these are so cute) @axelsagewrites

☾ 𖥔 ݁ ellie williams ☾.𖥔 ݁

•- affinity @whore-era

•- invisible string theory @total-dxmure

•- marley & me @total-dxmure

•- dare to be stupid @undressrehearsal

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ abby anderson ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

•- high strung @hier--soir

•- the waters warm @ilovepedro

•- good luck, babe! @studioghibelli

i am going to add more im just lazy

♡

pls send me some of ur favs too:)

#joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #fic recs #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #javier pena x reader #javier pena #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #maddies fic recs

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theanothersherlockian · 5 months ago

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#frankie my beloved #frankie morales #triple frontier #francisco morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier fanfic

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syd-djarin · 3 months ago

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nut vid with the sound on

frankie "catfish" morales x f!reader

You accidently send Frankie a text that he wasn't supposed to see.

~1.5k words

tags: EXPLICIT, accidently sending a screenshot meant for someone else, reader is feral (she just like me), sexting, mention of light choking, virtual mutual masturbation (m & f!), flirting, Frankie is a consent king!, dirtyyyy talk, voice notes, nudes, nut vid with the sound on, they're so horny for each other

this is my first Frankie fic and I've been thoroughly enjoying myself in the Catfish Pond ;) I hope y'all like the text format, I had fun writing it like this. special shoutout to my babe @almostempty !!! she matches my freak, feeds my delusions & sparks my horny thots. thank you for cheering me on and helping with the dialogue I love you LOTS <3333

consulted this page for spanish used :)

translations:

princesa - princess

tócame - touch me

que cosa/cosita mas linda - what a pretty/pretty little thing

mierda - shit

ay dios - oh god

hazme el amor - make love to me

banners by: @cafekitsune <3

smut below the cut, y'all know the drill!

Frankie: You coming tomorrow?

You: Yes, of course :)

Frankie: Good.

Bestie: bitch if you don’t make a move on fish

Bestie: It’s been months!!! Find out why they call him Catfish ;)

You: STOPPPP

You: you’re right tho I am dying to know

You: Wanna suck his dick til the skin falls OFF

You caption the screenshot of Frankie’s latest Instagram post and text it to your bestie who will appreciate your level of freakiness.

You continue your scrolling.

*ding*

Frankie: I don't think this message was meant for me, princesa.

Opening his text, you realize to your horror that you sent your thirsty thoughts TO Frankie. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuuuuuck!

You: shit, I’m SO so so incredibly sorry! Totally inappropriate and not cool. I definitely meant to send that to someone else. Totally exiling myself from the group.

Frankie: You meant to tell someone else that you wanna suck my dick til the skin falls off?

You: It wasn’t for you. Please forget you saw it. Please Frankie :(

Frankie: hell of a thing to send to someone. how am I supposed to forget the idea now?

You: Pretend. It was a mistake.

Frankie: a mistake? as in, you didn’t mean it?

You: Can we drop it?

Frankie: seemed pretty specific for a mistake. you got freaky with it

You: It doesn’t matter. It was stupid. Please let it go

Frankie: I don’t think I can, princesa

Frankie: not after imagining it

Frankie: You sent a whole screenshot, with a colorful caption attached. That's intentional.

If you weren’t so humiliated, you’d be giggling and kicking your feet in the air that he is calling you princess, but you can only assume he is being patronizing.

You: This is so fucking embarrassing.

Frankie: Not too embarrassed to keep texting though…

You: Frankie don’t

Frankie: You really think about me like that?

You: I think you already know the answer to that

Frankie: I do, but I wanted to hear it from you. This time directly to me

Frankie: I think about you

Frankie: All the time

You: Frankie, please.

You: I already feel terrible

Frankie: Never thought you’d see me like that. Now you’re telling me you’ve been thinking about my cock? and you want me to drop it?

You: Please don’t fuck with me. I’m already mortified beyond belief like I can’t show my face around here anymore!! I’m sorry I sent it okay?

You: I’ll skip the kickback if it's going to be too weird now.

Frankie: Wouldn’t be the same without you there. I’d never tell you not to come.

Frankie: If you really want me to drop it, I will. just say the word

Frankie: but you should know

Frankie: I think you’re gorgeous, hilarious, too fucking smart to be hanging out with us

Frankie: I lose my mind goddamn mind when I’m near you

Frankie: and knowing you’ve been thinking about me too has me hard as a fucking rock

You: Do you really mean that?

Frankie: Yes I do, baby. You have no idea what you do to me

You: Yeah? I might need some enlightenment.

There’s a pause. You brace for impact; that he is really pulling your leg and he and the guys are doubled over laughing at your expense.

Frankie: Might be better if you hear it straight from the Fish’s mouth

Frankie: Get it? Like horse’s mouth but it’s a fish instead

You: I hate to admit I did one of those huff exhales that you do when something is amusing but not quite funny enough to warrant a full laugh

Frankie: At least you smiled. That’s good enough for me

Frankie: Sending a voice note, is that okay?

You: Of course

Then the notification for a voice memo appears. Your fingers hover over the screen before you press play and Frankie’s low, gravelly voice spills into your ears.

“Bebita, you have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this. I’ve been yours since I first laid eyes on you…You’ve got me sitting here in my truck, trying to keep my shit together, but all I can think about is you on your knees for me. Told the guys I had to take a call… they’d give me shit right now if they knew… they’ve been ribbing me for months to ask you out but I was too chicken shit… way too pretty for me… definitely funnier and smarter than me, but you should know I’m not intimidated by that it's fucking hot… Fuck you’d look so good for me. I’d slide my cock into your mouth so slow, watch your lips stretch around me. You have the prettiest eyes and lips, you’d be heaven down on your knees for me…Shit, I’d lose my mind watching you take it. You’d look so pretty with your mouth full of me, baby. So fucking pretty.”

Frankie: Are you touching yourself? Tell me, pretty girl

You: And if I was?

Frankie: Good girl

Frankie: What are you thinking? How do you feel?

You: So so good, Frankie

You: Thinking about your big strong hands all over me has me drooling baby

Another voice memo appears. When you press play, there’s a groan—a low, throaty sound that makes your entire body shiver.

“You been thinking about my hands, princesa? Want me to hold those pretty tits with my hands, hmmm? Play with your nipples, massage them…maybe you’d like one of my hands gently pressing into the sides of your throat… if you’re into it of course!”

Frankie’s urgency to make sure you’re into that sort of thing makes you smile. The caring, thoughtful Frankie that you know.

“I am so hard for you– ay dios!…Thinking about you sitting on my face, trapped underneath your gorgeous thighs… make you come all over my face. Need you to make a mess on me… rub your pretty little clit on my nose, that’s why I have this big nose… so you can use it fuuuuuuuck…”

His voice grows rougher, more ragged. You can hear the slick, clapping sounds and his breathing. Heavy and uneven.

“Mierda, I’m so fucking close, wish you were here baby–unghhhhh… wanna feel you around me, your pussy squeezin’ my cock… make you come ‘til you’re begging me to stop… do whatever you ask me to…”

You: Show me. I want to see Frankie, please

Frankie: Wanna hear you say it in your pretty voice

Frankie: Let me hear you beg all sweet like for me and I’ll show you what you do to me

You: “Frankie ohhhhh baby I need you so bad… tócame, Frankie, por favor…Always think about climbing in your lap, running my hands through those— ahhhhhh!— curls, wanna feel how deep you get when I ride you… wanna feel you in my goddamn throat — fuck, can you hear how wet I am? I’m making such a mess oh my godddddd… never been this fucking wet baby…”

Frankie: babygirl you’re gonna be the death of me

Frankie: love your voice and the pretty sounds your pussy is making for me

You: can I send a video?

Frankie: no pressure. only if you’re comfortable with it 😘

You: that’s not what I asked, Francisco

Frankie: I know you mean business when you use my government name

Frankie: yeah baby i wanna see whatever you wanna show me

You: Attachment: 1 Video

“Hazme el amor, Frankie…”

Your legs are spread open, your core on display for the camera. He smiles thinking you probably had to find something to prop your phone on. You’ve got two fingers teasing in and out of your glistening pussy.

Frankie: que cosa cosita más linda

Frankie: You have the prettiest, messiest little pussy baby. Thank you for showing me. I can’t wait to taste her

Frankie: As promised, you want something in return for being such a good girl for me?

You: yes please 😇

Frankie: sound up 😘

Attachment: 1 Video

“Fuuuuuuck babygirl… see what you do to me… need to be close to you, need to feel you… make you feel good like you deserve… this is all for you, I am all for you baby…”

Frankie has his cock pulled out of his unzipped jeans, still in his truck, pumping himself. You admire the size and girth of him, so thick and gorgeous. You know the sting and stretch of him entering you for the first time will be delicious. It’s so hot knowing he had to slip away from the guy's night to relieve himself—couldn’t even wait til he got home.

“Been dreaming of you for months, always imagine you when I’m touching myself, you’re in all my thoughts baby… mierda I’m gonna come, fuck baby—unghhhhhh— gonna come so hard for you — ohhhhhhhh fuck…”

Thick ropes of cum drip down his hand, where he’s slowly riding out his high, breath heaving in exhaustion.

You: I think I just blacked out

You: I came so hard watching you fuck

Frankie: Such a good girl, baby. You did so good making yourself come

Frankie: Drink some water 😘

You: Thank you Frankie :) 🩷

You: chugging some water as we speak🫡

Frankie: that’s my girl

Frankie: get some sleep, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow 😘😘

BONUS: frankie's insta

tagging babes who might enjoy: @katiexpunk @evolnoomym @studioghibelli @joelmillerisapunk @joelslegalwhre @sanarsi @tightjeansjavi @milly-louise <3333

@pedrostories

#snail trail alert 🚨#frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie fic #francisco morales #catfish morales x reader #frankie kitty destroyer morales #text fic #nut vid with the sound on #syd djarin fics #ppcu #pedro pascal characters #pedro stories

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fettuccin-e · 1 year ago

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The First Time

Kinktober Day 15: Size Kink

Tags: Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), fingering (r!recieving), oral (r!giving and recieving), Frankie's monster schlong, yeah he's got a giant dick we all know it (w/c: 1.5K)

A/N: Part of the rapid-fire Kinktober catch up! My absolutely massive size kink really let itself free with this one (get it?? massive?? hehehe) but anyway please enjoy my ramblings about taking Frankie's gigantic schlong. (I have been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings for Kinktober!)

The first time you undress Frankie, really see him for the first time, bare and open to your gaze, you think you’re fucking hallucinating. He’d been so shy when you’d first met, so unassuming next to Pope and Will and Benny. Tugging the brim of his cap to cover his eyes, a timid little smile playing on his face as you flirted with him, not his friends.

You couldn’t have expected the fucking monster between his thighs the first time you have him naked in your bed, his cock so thick you can barely wrap your hand around him. You don't expect the way you choke on him when you try to blow him, only for you to realize that you hadn't even made it halfway.

He doesn’t fuck you that night, the both of you too high on each other’s bodies and too tipsy from the bottle of wine you’d shared earlier.

“Need time to get you ready, hermosa,” he whispers in your ear, fucking you so hard and deep on his fingers you nearly cry. “Next time baby, next time.”

The first time he fucks you, he doesn’t make it all the way. You think you're ready, despite Frankie’s protests, begging him to fuck you, grinding into his mouth, into his fingers as he works orgasm after orgasm out of your heaving body. Through your blurry eyes, you can see the way his hips thrust gently into the mattress, fucking himself into your sheets as he eats you out, groaning into your pussy as you gush down his face. It’s fucking maddening.

He lines himself up, pressing into you gently, so gently, but God, it’s already too much. Too fucking much. You gasp as the thick head of his cock presses into your entrance, spreading you so much wider than his fingers, wider than you’ve ever been stretched. It fucking stings, and you dig your nails into Frankie’s shoulders as you try to take it for him.

He only sinks in halfway before your body just can’t take it anymore, squeezing him so tight that he can’t possibly move deeper. Tears spring to your eyes at the feeling of it, and you try to apologize, but Frankie only leans down to seal his mouth to yours, kissing the breath out of your lungs.

“Feels so fucking good,” he mutters against your lips, sounding so fucking wrecked, and you throb around him at the sound of it. “Your little pussy is so fucking tight.”

You feel lightheaded at the destroyed rasp of his voice, and when he moves, you feel lightning rocket up your spine, whining loudly against his lips. He grins, the shy boy from the bar long gone as he thrusts until he’s halfway in again, fucking you on only half his cock as you keen beneath him. You have no idea how he’ll ever fit inside completely, how just half of him fills you up more than anyone else ever has. “Wanna take all of you,” you gasp, “want it all inside, fuck, Frankie, please.”

He shushes you gently, smoothing his hands down your sides. “Mi amor, we need more time to get you ready,” he murmurs softly. “Next time, baby, next time.”

He fucks you just like that, breaking you open with just half of his cock and fisting the base in a large, warm palm until you squeeze around him with your orgasm. When you beg him to cum inside you, he groans, pumping you full, gripping tight to your thighs. You promise yourself that next time you'll take all of him.

The first time you take Frankie, really, truly take him, you think that he’s more affected than you are.

You’re so wet, dripping down your thighs from Frankie’s endless preparation, his lips shiny with your slick as he leans down to kiss you slowly, deliberately. You find that you don’t mind the taste of yourself.

He’s been fucking you on his thick fingers for what seems like hours, spreading you so wide, wide enough that you thought you’d break.

You don’t know how many times he’s made you cum, how many times he’s told you that it’ll make you looser, get you ready. You think he just likes watching you fall apart, his eyes blown wide as you tremble against the sheets.

When he finally, finally notches the thick tip of his cock against your entrance, pushing forward slowly, you try to brace yourself for pain. It’s so much, he’s so much, and it should hurt, fuck, you should feel like you’re being ripped apart.

But your mind is foggy with desperation, your need to finally fit him inside, that you can barely feel the pain at all. You can only gasp for air as his cock stretches you wide, pressing in so deep it’s like you can feel it in your lungs. And he just slides in, easy as that, as if it was easy all along.

And as much as you moan and gasp, your fingers clutching into the skin of his back, it is nothing compared to the way Frankie fucking whines at the feeling of it, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he stills his hips, pressed in as deep as he can get.

“Fuck me, please, oh my God, Frankie,” you gasp, grinding your hips against his on pure instinct, desperate to get him in deeper, somehow. But his hands tighten on you, gripping so hard you think he’ll leave bruises.

“Stop,” he says, deep and raspy and fucking primal. “Stop fucking moving, shit, ‘m trying not to fucking cum.” He sounds goddamn sinful, and your pussy throbs at the sheer idea of him filling you up just from finally fitting inside you. You let him breathe through it, raking your nails gently up his back. He shivers at your touch.

You suck air in through your teeth when he pulls out, just barely, only to fuck back in. He does it again, and again, and again, thrusting so deep into you that his cock fucking drags into your sweet spot, not even trying. You’ve never felt so fucking full before.

��Fuck, baby, you’re so goddamn tight, don’t even know how I can fuckin’ fit,” he mutters, pulling your thighs tighter around his hips and pulling you down onto his thick cock with every thrust. “This little cunt is just sucking me in, ‘s like she can’t get enough.”

“God, yes, Frankie please,” you choke out between labored breaths, your vision blurring at the edges. All you can fucking feel, hear, smell is Frankie above you, warm and towering over you, filling you up so perfect.

“So goddamn pretty wrapped around my cock,” he growls, pounding into you hard enough that tears start to pour down your cheeks. “My greedy baby, am I big enough for you?”

“Fuck! Yes, it’s so- it’s so fuckin’ big, Frankie, I can feel it in my fucking stomach.” You’re slurring your words, your brain turned to mush as Frankie breaks you apart so viciously. He reaches between you to rub quick circles into your clit with a calloused thumb, and your body locks up, your back arching so far it presses your tits into Frankie’s strong chest.

“That’s right, honey, just fuckin’ feel it. Nobody else can fill you up like I can, right?” he snarls, and you can only nod frantically, choked moans punched from your throat every time he thrusts inside you. “Cum, sweetheart. Show me how much you love my big cock.”

And you have no other choice but to fucking scream, pulsing violently around him as you cum. You’re fucking lost in it, broken apart in the best way possible, and Frankie groans, stilling inside of your as he fills you up with cum. It’s pure bliss, a goddamn revelation, and you don’t think it’s ever going to fucking stop. He smothers your cries with a kiss, licking into your mouth and soothing you like a wild animal as you both ride out the aftershocks.

When you finally feel yourself start to breathe normally again, to find it in yourself to blink blearily up at him, smiling softly when you see him already staring down at you. As he pulls out of you, you feel the emptiness immediately, whining as he shushes you gently. “I know, honey, I know,” he murmurs, falling beside you and pulling you into him. “You did so good for me.”

“Damn right I did,” you murmur, sleep already weighing down your eyelids. “Who else is going to take that monster dick of yours?”

He laughs, loud and gruff in the most perfectly Frankie-way you could possibly imagine. “Don’t act like you didn’t fucking love it, hermosa.”

And, well, you don’t really have arguments for that.

#oh frankie #sweet husband with a big heart and even bigger schlong #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #frankie x reader #frankie catfish morales #catfish x reader #triple frontier x you #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic

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javierpena-inatacvest · 1 year ago

Text

Cramps

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

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

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

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

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

Bitchy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your period had come.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you. You’re the best.”

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

“Oh shut up, meanie.”

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

“Love you too. 🤍”

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

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

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

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I can make that happen.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Frankie, holy fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist:

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

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luxurychristmaspudding · 10 months ago

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On Call | Masterlist

frankie morales x f!reader

summary: there are many things frankie morales used to laugh at in romcoms. falling in love with the girl next door, the babysitter, your best friend. and then he met you.

pairing: neighbour!frankie x f!babysitter!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. dual pov. best buds to lovers, idiots in love, reader is good with kids. a little canon divergent. reader and frankie are both bi and have same sex exes. mentions of experiencing biphobia and heartbreak. talk of dead/absent parents. frankie fixin' stuff, competency kink, makin' a man some lunch (in a neighbourly way). mutual pining, f&m masturbation, drinking and smoking. tooth rotting fluff and then eventual devious post-bedtime activity (smut).

reader is a teacher and has hair, but she is otherwise a blank slate :)

an: howdy, y'all. in an effort to write something like a normal length fic, i've split this one shot in three lol. excited for you to meet these guys <3

pt i - arizona

pt ii - on call

pt iii - mi amigo

pt iv - you and i

epilogue - birthday

extras

weightless

super graphic ultra modern girl

the immortals

frankie and bug’s whisky night playlist

frankie grey sweats drabble

read on ao3

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic

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theyloveniahhhhh · 8 months ago

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sometimes all you need just a older guy to make you happy and bubbly inside.

#joel miller x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #javier pena x reader #spencer reid x reader #lalo salamanca x reader #javier gutierrez #joel miller #emily prentiss x reader #john wick x reader #arthur morgan x reader #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #valeria garza x reader #simon riley x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #tommy miller x reader

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capuccinodoll · 1 month ago

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The boyfriend act, part 1: "The one with the proposal" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter summary: The journey from Dallas to Austin is tense but tolerable, as you and Frankie do your best to ignore the mutual disdain simmering between you. But everything derails when a chance encounter with Harry—your ex—and his fiancée pushes you to tell a spur-of-the-moment lie. Frankie’s reaction makes it clear he’s not on board. WC: 14.3k

A/N: Okay, here's my new baby! And I fucking love it! I hope you enjoy this story as much as I've been enjoying writing it. Also, just a heads-up: I’ve taken some creative liberties with the characters. While this story is inspired by the ones in Triple Frontier, it barely follows the events of the movie, and the characters themselves aren’t portrayed exactly as they are in the film. PS: I’d love to hear your thoughts—your feedback means so much to me! Knowing what you think truly motivates me to keep going. So don't hesitate and let me know <3 Also, if you want to be on the tag list, let me know. And don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifs :)

When Santiago’s message arrived, you read it three times, as if repetition might change the words or soften their impact.

[Santi]: Hey bubs, mornin. I’m really sorry but I won’t be able to come get you. I’ll meet you at home later tho. Frankie will pick you up, same time as planned, don’t worry:)

The words seemed to pulse faintly on the screen, a quiet disruption of the neat plan you’d constructed in your head.

Frankie. He wasn’t your first choice—or your second, or third. If you were honest, he didn’t even make the list.

That morning had started with a sense of calm, a kind of orderly anticipation. The steady hum of the fan in the corner of Emma’s room, the cool sting of the shower water, the first sip of coffee, sweet and bitter all at once—it all felt like the clean slate of a well-prepared day. You’d zipped your suitcase shut with a satisfying finality, placed your carry-on by the door. Nothing left to chance.

The plan was simple: you’d take the bus. Predictable, unremarkable. But Santiago had insisted earlier that week, his voice crackling through the phone with a kind of rare, unguarded enthusiasm.

“We can stop for lunch, you know? Like we used to do with dad. Maybe even take a detour if we find somethin' cool,” he’d said, his tone warm, almost playful.

You’d been leaning against Emma’s kitchen counter at the time, a glass of wine in one hand, a cube of cheese in the other, and your phone between your cheek and your shoulder. Emma raised an eyebrow from across the room, silently prompting you to explain.

“Everything okay with Yovanna?” you teased, your voice carrying just enough edge to feel like a joke, even though it wasn’t entirely one. “Or is this an excuse to run away for the day?”

“Fuck you,” he laughed, the kind of laugh that came easily between you two. “I just want to spend time with you. It’s been ages since we really caught up. I miss you like hell.”

That stopped you. He wasn’t wrong—months had passed since the two of you had talked properly, beyond the surface-level exchanges over meals or texts.

“Okay,” you’d said, your voice softer than before, though you avoided looking at Emma. “I miss you too. I’ll wait for you then.”

And now, this. No Santiago, no shared lunch or detours. Just Frankie, an unwelcome rewrite of the day you thought you had mapped out so clearly.

You sat back against the bed frame, rereading the message one last time. Frankie will pick you up. Frankie will pick you up. Frankie. Frankie. Fucking Frankie. Now the plan had unraveled, and the disappointment felt sharper than you wanted to admit.

You let the phone fall to the bed beside you, the screen dimming as it landed.

Emma lay stretched out next to you, her head tilted toward the TV, where an episode of Friends played on low volume. It was one of those episodes you both knew by heart, the kind you could recite without effort. The one where everybody finds out. The blue light from the screen washed over her face, softening her features, making her eyes look brighter than they really were. Without looking away, she reached out and hooked her arm around yours, a quiet gesture that felt like home. She’d done the same thing when you were teenagers, sharing the lumpy couch in your parents’ living room, giggling over something trivial while your mom cooked dinner in the next room.

“What happened?” she murmured, her voice soft but curious, as if she could already sense the shift in your mood. The laugh track bubbled in the background, filling the space between her words.

“Santi’s not coming,” you said, glancing at the TV without really seeing it. “He sent Frankie.”

You felt a pang, not just from the change in plans but from the weight of the goodbye looming in the background. You’d learned to carry that feeling since Emma moved out of Austin—this persistent ache, like a thread pulling tighter with every visit that ended. On most days, it faded into the background. But today, it stuck to you, clinging like a damp sock you couldn’t quite shake off.

“That Frankie?”

“I doubt he knows any others.”

“How convenient,” she said, her voice low with mockery, though her arm squeezed yours gently. “Well, call me when you get there. And try to be nice to him, if you can manage it.”

Emma turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of her eye. “And don’t take too long to come back and visit me, okay?”

“You could always visit Austin, you know."

“It’s more fun if you come here. You get to be a tourist,” she said, with that breezy logic she always used to disarm you. “I already know Austin. That’s not so exciting.”

You snorted, more out of habit than disagreement. She wasn’t wrong. Emma rarely was.

The rest of the evening passed in near silence, broken only by the low murmur of the television. First, another episode of Friends, then one of The Nanny. The rhythm of the shows was familiar, the kind of easy, forgettable comfort that didn’t require much from you. At some point, Emma shifted closer, resting her head on your shoulder. Her breathing slowed, deepened, a steady rise and fall that seemed to sync with your own. She didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. There was something about her presence, her weight against you, that felt like a reminder—you were understood here, even when you didn’t have the words to explain yourself. She wasn't just your best friend, she was your sister.

The sharp blare of a car horn shattered the calm, breaking through the evening like the crack of distant thunder. You flinched, your body instinctively tensing, the warm cocoon of the moment dissolving in an instant. Emma didn’t stir much, her eyes still closed, her arm still draped over yours. You nudged her gently, tapping her arm until she groaned softly and sat up, squinting against the glow of the TV.

“I think he’s here,” you said, your voice low but cutting through the quiet.

Emma stretched in one graceful motion, her arms arching overhead before she bent down to grab the bright lavender Crocs she kept by the bed. The shoes, adorned with an assortment of decorative pins—a blue flower, a miniature coffee cup, and a small plastic dinosaur—were an oddly perfect reflection of her: delicate, energetic, and just the right amount of ridiculous, in the best way.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” she said, her tone casual, but there was a softness to it, an unspoken understanding that made the impending goodbye feel heavier.

Outside, the heat clung to you immediately, the air thick and sticky, humming with the faint buzz of cicadas. Your gaze landed on the car parked in front of Emma’s house, and something in you tensed. It wasn’t Santi’s car, of course, and it wasn’t Santi standing there waiting.

Frankie was leaning against the hood, arms crossed, his whole posture radiating impatience. He looked as though he’d been sculpted there, his bored expression so exaggerated it almost felt theatrical. The heat shimmered in waves around him, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care. He wore a rumpled gray shirt that looked like it hadn’t been ironed in weeks and a pair of dark sunglasses, their reflective lenses hiding whatever was going on behind them. The cap was familiar, too—plain, worn, the same style you’d seen him wear before, though this time in a faded gray that matched his shirt.

For a fleeting, irrational moment, you thought maybe this was all a mistake. That Santi might suddenly appear, stepping out from behind the car or walking up the driveway with that easy laugh of his, telling you it had all been a joke. But the driveway remained empty, and Frankie, noticing you, straightened up with a kind of deliberate slowness.

He started walking toward you, each step measured, as if he were pacing himself for an obligation he didn’t particularly want to fulfill. His movements had the casual indifference of someone who would rather be anywhere else, but was too resigned to argue.

“Where’s Santi?” you asked as you approached, the question coming out sharper than you’d intended.

Frankie didn’t answer immediately. He simply closed the distance between you with deliberate, unhurried steps. Then, without a word, he grabbed the suitcase from your hand in one fluid motion. The gesture caught you off guard—not because he took it, but because of how mechanical it felt. He didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge you in any meaningful way. It was as though you were just an extension of the bag he was moving, an obstacle to be dealt with as quickly as possible.

“He couldn’t make it,” he said at last, his voice flat, almost dismissive.

He hauled the suitcase toward the trunk and tossed it in with a thud that seemed louder than it should’ve been. The sound echoed briefly, underscoring his lack of finesse. He slammed the trunk shut with a single decisive motion and turned back toward the driver’s seat, his body language broadcasting that he considered the interaction over.

“He didn’t tell me anything about it,” you said, your voice rising slightly, tinged with disbelief. You stayed rooted to the spot, your feet planted as if the weight of the confusion had sunk into the concrete beneath you.

Frankie paused, his hand on the car door.

“It was a last-minute thing.”

Before you could respond—before you could even begin to untangle your frustration into something coherent—he opened the door, slid into the driver’s seat, and pulled it shut behind him with a force that made the air shudder.

You turned back toward the house. Emma was watching from the porch, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her expression hovered somewhere between curiosity and bewilderment, her head tilting slightly as you approached.

She hugged you tightly, holding on a beat longer than usual. When you pulled away, her eyes searched yours, silently asking questions you didn’t have answers for.

“I’ll call you when I get there,” you said, though you weren’t sure what the call would entail—whether you’d laugh about all this, or vent, or just let her voice fill the empty spaces.

Her lips twitched into a faint smile, one tinged with resignation.

“I love you so much,” you added, your voice quieter now. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I always do. I love you too. Take care and call me as soon as you can."

She stepped back as you turned toward the car, your feet dragging slightly with each step.

Now, an hour and a half later, the car sped steadily toward Austin, the scenery blurring into a series of indistinct shapes. Frankie hadn’t said a word since you’d left Emma’s house, and the silence had settled in the car like a heavy fog, pressing down on you with every passing mile.

You’d considered speaking—several times, in fact—but every potential conversation starter you thought of seemed pointless. What was there to say to him? You barely knew each other, and what little you did know felt more like a series of grudges than shared history. The only things you had in common were your mutual love for Santi and, apparently, your mutual irritation with each other. Neither felt like enough to bridge the yawning gap between you.

You stared out the window, the dry, flat landscape sliding by in endless monotony, like a movie stripped of plot and color. Pale beige fields stretched into the horizon, broken only by the occasional cluster of power lines. The sameness of it all seemed to lull the world into a kind of dull, static hum.

The only relief came from the music spilling softly from the car’s speakers—classic rock, its grainy tones unmistakable even at low volume. The sound was tethered to Frankie’s phone, resting in the cupholder beside him, the screen glowing faintly every so often with an incoming notification he didn’t bother to check. A Fleetwood Mac song began again, its familiar opening chords filling the silence for the third time since you’d left.

You shifted in your seat, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before turning your attention back to the road ahead.

“Do you like this song?”

“I think so.”

“It’s played three times already.”

“It’s a good song,” he said softly, his voice low enough to be mistaken for an afterthought.

You turned back to the window, letting the conversation dissolve into the space between you. He hadn’t said it to be defensive—just matter-of-fact, like the song itself was reason enough. You folded your arms across your chest, the seatbelt digging slightly into your side.

Then, your mind wandered back to Santi, to the message that had upended your day. What had he been thinking? Of all his friends, why send Frankie? The question rolled over in your head, each repetition more insistent than the last. Was it an oversight? A logistical decision made in haste, without considering how you’d feel about it? Or was it intentional? That idea sat uneasily with you, gnawing at the edge of your thoughts. He knew how strange things felt between you and Frankie. Hell, everyone knew. They’d all been there, witnessed it firsthand—the arguments, the uncomfortable silences, the way your personalities seemed to clash as naturally as oil and water.

The possibility that Santi might’ve chosen Frankie on purpose—maybe even as some misguided attempt to force you into tolerating each other—bothered you more than you wanted to admit. You shifted again, suddenly restless, as the car hummed along the empty stretch of highway, the silence between you growing heavier despite the steady background of Fleetwood Mac.

Over the last few years, Frankie had been a fixture in your life, the way someone else’s shadow might be—not yours, but unavoidable. Being your brother’s best friend meant your paths crossed often enough, though you both seemed to approach these encounters with mutual disdain. You didn’t like him, and he didn’t bother pretending to like you. Disgust was the word that came to mind when you thought about how he looked at you. Not exaggerated or theatrical, just a cool, unflinching disgust, as though he found something about you fundamentally wrong.

The last time you’d spoken more than a handful of clipped, perfunctory words to each other was in Santi’s kitchen a few years ago. That was the breaking point. The fight. It wasn’t dramatic, not really—no yelling, no slammed doors—but it was the kind of exchange that changed things irreversibly. After that, you decided you didn’t want to think about him, let alone look at him, ever again.

And that was the end of it. You stopped trying to explain. You'd come to accept that to Santi, Frankie was probably nothing like how you saw him. You weren't sure what it was about him that rubbed you the wrong way, but you knew that with your brother, Frankie surely couldn't be as unpleasant as he was with you.

So, you ignored him. Every time you saw him, you made sure your gaze passed over him like he was just another fixture in the room. And he did the same. It was as though you were two people occupying the same space, but never truly sharing it.

Why on earth, then, had he agreed to come and pick you up?

The silence in the car stretched on, and you settled into the uncomfortable rhythm of it, letting it fill the space between you and him. Frankie’s eyes stayed fixed on the road, and his thumbs twitched restlessly over the steering wheel.

Finally, he broke the silence, but his words felt like a formality.

“We'll stop for lunch,” he said, his voice low, almost indifferent. His gaze flickered to you for a brief second, enough to make sure you had heard, before returning to the road. “I haven’t eaten anything all day. Do you mind?”

You were starting to feel the pangs of hunger yourself, but you didn’t let that soften your response. You couldn’t.

“No,” you replied, your voice curt, colder than you intended.

Frankie nodded, the movement barely noticeable. He turned his attention back to the road, his expression unchanged, as though you hadn’t spoken at all. His calmness was maddening.

For a moment, you considered breaking the silence again, saying something just to disrupt his steady composure. But then you thought better of it. There was still a long way to go, and the last thing you wanted was for this trip to feel even more suffocating than it already was. So you stayed silent, the weight of your irritation pressing down on you, knowing that with each mile, you were only getting closer to end of this torture.

Fifteen minutes later, the engine turned off and you looked over at the driver's side, half-expecting Frankie to say something—anything—but he was already in motion. Before you could open your mouth, the door swung open, and he was out of the car, his body moving with an urgency that seemed to come from some invisible force, as though he were escaping the confines of the vehicle. For a moment, the empty passenger seat seemed to expand, making the car feel smaller, quieter.

You stayed there a second longer, watching as Frankie made his way across the parking lot. His steps were steady, deliberate, almost too casual, as if walking away from you might somehow erase you from the moment entirely. He didn’t look back, didn’t pause to see if you were following. And honestly, you weren’t in any rush to do so. There was no reason to catch up with him. He clearly didn’t want you there, and you didn’t want to be near him either. This trip wasn’t about you; it was about doing your brother a favor.

The parking lot was modest, just enough space for the few cars scattered about. It wasn’t anything remarkable, just a typical lot for a small, unassuming restaurant. The faded lines barely marked the spots, and you counted five cars parked across the patch of asphalt. The windows of the restaurant were perfectly clean, and you could see people inside. A couple of families were chatting animatedly at their tables, and a few solitary diners were hunched over their food, their focus far from the simple meal in front of them.

With a sigh, you walked toward the entrance. Above the door, the sign Jimmy’s buzzed softly in red neon, its glow a little too bright for the evening light. Next to it, a yellow arrow with tiny, flickering bulbs pointed inside, inviting anyone who passed by to come in. "Eat here!" The sign seemed eager, almost enthusiastic in its attempt to catch attention.

You pushed open the door, the bell chiming brightly above your head as you stepped inside. The rush of cool air from the air conditioning met you instantly, a welcome contrast to the heat that still clung to your skin from the car. The coolness was almost too sharp, sending a slight shiver down your spine as you paused just inside the doorway. Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the softer light inside. The diner was small, but it had a cozy, familiar feel, with colorful walls and a few tables scattered around. The noise inside was a comfortable hum, punctuated by the occasional clink of silverware, low conversation and the music in the background.

It didn’t take long to spot him. Frankie was seated at the bar, absorbed in the menu in front of him. His posture was casual, but there was something about the way he held himself, his shoulders slightly hunched, that made it feel like he was a little too withdrawn, like he didn’t want to engage.

You walked toward him slowly, the sound of your footsteps softened by the tiles beneath you. You were just about to sit next to him when he looked up, his gaze meeting yours briefly before returning to the menu. His voice was flat, almost bored as he spoke, as if the interaction was nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

“Go find a table,” he said, his tone neither rude nor warm.

You frowned, taking the menu from his hand without a word. His gaze didn’t follow you as he stood up, stretching slightly as he rose from the bar stool. There was something about his movements—relaxed, yet sharp—that made you feel like you weren’t really a part of whatever was going on. His shirt clung slightly to his back from the heat of the car, the evidence of sweat still visible on his skin, and you couldn't help but notice the fine hairs on his arms standing on end, a subtle sign of the sharp contrast between the stifling heat outside and the chill of the air-conditioned room.

“I’m goin' to the bathroom. Be back in a sec,” he added casually, his voice even, before disappearing down the narrow hallway to the right. No expectation of a response. No glance to see if you were still standing there, just a simple statement. He was gone before you could offer anything in reply.

You were left standing there, the laminated menu in your hands, a slight weariness creeping in.

With a sigh, you turned on your heels and began scanning the room for a table. There was still at least an hour and a half of travel left, plus however long you'd spend eating. Why hadn’t Santi given you a heads-up? You could’ve taken the bus or the train, something that didn’t involve sitting in a car with anyone but him. But no, that wasn’t even an option, apparently.

You spotted an empty table near the back, next to the window, and as you walked toward it, the decor around you caught your eye. The place had a playful, nostalgic vibe, as if it were trying to channel the spirit of another time. Framed posters of Grease, Fame, Footloose, and Saturday Night Fever hung on the walls, adding to the feeling of a throwback to the ‘70s and ‘80s. It was all very upbeat, almost theatrical, like a movie set. The tables were red and white, and a jukebox stood in the corner.

You glanced at the posters, half wondering if the owner had lived through that era or just loved the aesthetic of it all. Either way, it gave the place a sense of warmth and a bit of character, a stark contrast to the outside.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the quiet murmur of the restaurant, sharp and unexpected, and your name echoed in the air. You froze, the sound ricocheting in your chest, followed by a rush of emotions you didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone feel. You could feel the familiar tension ripple through your muscles, a mix of surprise, confusion, and something deeper you couldn’t quite place. Slowly, you turned to face him, every step feeling like it took an eternity.

“Harry,” you said, the name falling from your lips like it belonged to someone else, someone distant. A smile flickered across your face—perfectly timed and just the right shape, though it felt hollow, as fake as the kindness you were trying to project. Your lips tightened, a familiar mask of politeness slipping over your expression, one you wished you didn’t have to wear. “What... what are you doing here?”

His smile was instant and disarming, his surprise clear, and his happiness so genuine it made your chest tighten. For a moment, it erased the absurdity of seeing him here, of all places, in the middle of nowhere. The coincidence felt cruel, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on you.

The last time you saw him, three months ago, it felt like a lifetime ago—a goodbye steeped in heartbreak. You’d clung to him, tears soaking his crisp white shirt as he whispered reassurances: “It’s okay. You’ll be okay. I care about you.” But the words he didn’t say cut deeper: he cared for you, but he loved her.

It had been a casual fling, no strings attached—or so you told yourself. Then came the day he confessed: he was in love with Lisa, a friend you’d never met. They were getting married. His words, calm and rehearsed, felt like a gut punch, but his excitement betrayed him. He was happy. You weren’t.

You tried to be strong, to tell him you were fine, even as you broke down. Because you loved him, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him with her.

And now, here he was, smiling like nothing had happened, curiosity in his eyes—oblivious to the wreckage he’d left behind.

In front of him, Lisa was sitting with a big bright smile. You’d seen her face before, her perfectly curated Instagram photos, her flawless smile that could have been lifted straight from a movie. But in person? She was even more striking, the kind of beauty that didn’t need filters or captions. The kind of beauty that made everything around her seem insignificant, that made you feel small just standing next to her. Her presence was magnetic, the sort of thing that pulled your gaze despite every instinct telling you to look away.

Suddenly, the air conditioning hit you like a blast of cold, sharp enough to make you flinch. But then again, maybe it wasn’t the air conditioning. Maybe it was just your body freezing in place, rigid with surprise and something much harder to define. You didn’t know how to respond. Harry was talking—his voice was there, filling the space, but the words barely reached you. They felt like distant echoes, the kind that might have meant something once but now were just noise, reverberating uselessly around you.

“What are you doing around here?” he asked, pulling you back from the tangle of thoughts you were trying so hard to keep at bay.

You blinked, trying to center yourself, but it was like you had forgotten how to breathe properly.

“We’re... I’m just passing through, heading back to Austin,” you said, your voice sounding too steady, too rehearsed, even to your own ears. Your heart was lodged somewhere near your throat, threatening to choke you if you said too much. “I went to visit Emma.”

“Ah, Emma. How is she? Is she still in Dallas?”

“Yep,” you answered, the word sharp and clipped, offering nothing more.

The silence hung between you, thick and uncomfortable. You could feel it stretching, wrapping itself around your words, making them heavier than they needed to be. Finally, you exhaled, the air coming out in a slow, resigned sigh.

“What about you guys? What are you doing around here?”

You didn’t really want to know, not at all.

“Lisa’s grandparents live in Waco,” Harry said with that wide smile of his, the one that always made you feel like you were watching the world tilt on its axis. He looked at Lisa like she was the center of his universe, as if everything that mattered began and ended with her. “We went to take the invitation to them personally and I met the rest of the family while we were at it.”

You didn’t smile. You couldn’t. Your lips pulled tight, the gesture feeling almost painful, like your face wasn’t sure how to form the expression anymore. The words were there, though, just beneath the surface.

“Right, right.” You swallowed, forcing the words out despite how hollow they felt. “How cool. You must be so excited—a summer wedding, then?”

You’d known for weeks—September 13th. The invitation, with its sparkling gold lettering, had made your stomach churn. You buried it under junk mail, unable to face seeing him so happy, so certain of what he had.

But you couldn’t say that, could you? You couldn’t tell him that the mere thought of them together, of their future, felt like a knife to your chest. So you forced a smile, a tight, lifeless thing, and let the conversation carry on.

"That's right," Harry said, laughing as his gaze flickered to Lisa, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Even though we wanted to enjoy the early days of fall, Lisa wanted to get married around summer, mostly because of her parents. They got married during summer too."

Lisa laughed softly, the sound like a note held too long, then spoke, her voice low and warm.

"It's not just that," she said, her hand resting lightly on Harry's. You found yourself looking away, unable to hold the image of them together for too long. "Everything looks more beautiful during this season, doesn't it? Even the days last longer."

Her voice was thick with something you couldn't quite place—familiarity, maybe. Or maybe it was love, that unspoken thing that you couldn’t ignore, even if you wanted to. The way they fit together made everything else seem smaller, less important. And yet Harry’s eyes shifted to you, seeking something. Approval, maybe. He didn’t say it, but it was clear. His look said: Don’t disagree.

"That's true. Summer is beautiful," you replied, feeling the words slip out too easily, forced through your teeth. Your voice came out softer than you intended, and you felt Lisa’s smile hit you like a jolt. It was stunning—perfect in a way that seemed almost too much, like she’d been born to smile in that exact way. You hated her for it, just a little.

"We look forward to seeing you there," Harry said, breaking the moment, his words direct and heavy. "We haven't received your confirmation—you’re going, aren't you?"

How could he ask that, not see how unnatural this felt? But Harry wasn’t cruel—just unaware. You’d never told him you loved him, never made your feelings clear. To him, this was normal. He thought you’d be fine.

“I... um—”

“Don’t worry about going alone,” he said, that same nonchalant tone that had once made you smile. "You always meet people at weddings."

Heat flooded your face, burning like a slap. The words stung, but his obliviousness made it worse. You wished the ground would swallow you whole—or anything to escape. Instead, you laughed—a thin, brittle sound that barely masked the pain.

"Ah, no, that’s not it," you lied, your voice trembling just enough for Harry to notice. "That's covered."

“Oh, is it?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow, his interest piqued. He leaned forward, a relieved smile crossing his face.

"Sure," you said, forcing a confidence into your tone that you didn’t feel. "I’ll... I’ll go with my boyfriend."

Harry's eyes widened a little, and then the smile appeared again—this one more genuine, more curious. He tapped the table, an excited gesture that made your stomach twist.

“You don’t say?” he said, his voice rising in pitch. “And who’s the lucky guy?”

You wanted to crumble. You wanted to say nothing, because the truth felt too big, too overwhelming, and there was no way to say it without everything falling apart. But you couldn't. You just couldn't.

As if by some celestial miracle, you saw Frankie emerge from the hallway, his attention absorbed by the screen of his phone, scrolling, unaware of anything around him. His timing was perfect, and relief washed over you, as if fate had sent him. He wasn’t supposed to be here, yet there he was—a lifeline in the chaos.

For a moment, he seemed to glow, his familiar, worn cap catching the harsh lights like a crown. You’d never been so glad to see someone. Then his eyes met yours, and his expression shifted—confusion flickering as he took in your frantic stance, the mess of emotions written on your face.

Before you could stop it, before you could make any sense of what was happening, a smile stretched across your face—too wide, too fast, like a reflex you hadn’t been prepared for. It was probably a little too sharp to be anything but forced, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help anything.

"Frankie," you said, the words tumbling out with more enthusiasm than you intended. It sounded too bright, almost exaggerated, but there was no stopping it now. "This is Frankie... Frankie, my boyfriend.”

You weren’t sure what you were doing, but it didn’t matter—you needed to make something clear. Frankie tensed beside you, glancing your way, trying to read the situation. His eyes met yours, and you silently begged him: Help. Please.

For a moment, he studied you, his gaze flicking between you and the couple. Then, as if something clicked, his expression shifted to understanding. He realized what he had to do and adjusted instantly.

"Right," he finally said, his voice low, the smile on his face still a little unsure but polite. "I’m Frankie."

Harry extended his hand with a practiced smile, warm but a touch too bright. Frankie hesitated, his gaze shifting from Harry’s hand to your face, brow slightly furrowed as he tried to assess the situation—or his role in it.

You stepped closer, tapping his waist lightly, a subtle signal to act. He blinked, refocusing, and finally took Harry’s hand, his grip firm and deliberate. But in his eyes, there was a flicker of discomfort—one only you noticed.

“Frankie,” Harry said, his voice carrying a weight of something too calm for the situation. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I'm Harry.” Then, he nodded enthusiastically, dropping his hand back to the table. “And this is Lisa."

Lisa smiled, her gaze bright and almost blinding.

“Nice to meet ya, Frankie,” she said, her voice the epitome of warmth, her charm effortless, her presence just... perfect. Oh my God, just stop it!

Frankie finally turned his attention back to you, though it wasn’t immediately clear if he was still processing the social niceties or deciding how best to carry this conversation forward. His voice shifted slightly as he spoke again.

“Same here,” he said, his tone unfamiliar to you—something smoother, almost softer, like he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

He moved closer, just a bit too close, slipping his arm around your waist with ease, sending a flutter through your stomach. His hand rested lightly against your side, his palm warm at your back. You froze, unable to focus on anything but the pulse of his touch, the way he effortlessly played the boyfriend role.

It felt wrong, uncomfortable.

Confusion and relief mixed inside you, unsure if the relief came from the act itself or the distraction it provided from the situation.

"Well," Frankie broke the silence. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need to leave soon. I want to make sure this beautiful woman gets some food before we go—otherwise, she goes bad."

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the way he phrased it.

Harry chuckled, his easy laughter filling the space.

“Yeah, I believe you,” he said, his grin still wide but with a spark of curiosity. He shot a look at Lisa, then back at Frankie, narrowing his eyes just a touch. “That’s the main reason we stopped. Though I’ll admit,” he added, glancing down at the table with a mock grimace, “I was the one really starving.”

The awkwardness of the moment barely registered for Harry. He seemed to think everything was going smoothly, unaware of the small cracks in the facade that were threatening to show. Frankie, however, was more aware than anyone, and you could see it in his eyes—the way his face shifted from the casual smile to something more guarded, something more carefully neutral.

Frankie gave a short, almost amused laugh, pulling his arm back from your waist with a light tap. His tone was polite, more deliberate than before.

“Yeah, I’m sure you can relate,” he said, a flicker of warmth in his eyes. “Keeping your lady happy, that's what it's all about, isn't it?”

You tried to smile, but it came out thin, tight around the edges. Your legs became weak.

Harry’s laugh was light. He buyed it.

Frankie straightened up slightly, offering his hand to Harry in that careful, calculated way that now seemed practiced, even though it hadn’t been moments ago. His movements were calculated, polite, but entirely different from the Frankie you knew. The way he was acting felt like an entirely unfamiliar version of him—Thank God.

“Okay, thanks for the chat, but we bett—”

"Yeah, of course," Harry interrupted, still upbeat and completely oblivious to the tension. "It was nice meeting you, Frankie. Take care of her, alright? She's... well, you know. A special one."

Frankie’s smile stiffened, the edges barely moving as he gave a short nod. His eyes flicked to you for a fleeting second, his expression tight and controlled, though something was definitely off.

"I will, man," he replied, voice steady but carrying an underlying edge. "I’ve got her covered. Don’t worry. She’s in good hands."

“Bye, Harry,” you said, turning to him with a friendly but somewhat distant smile, your hand lifting in a wave that felt too casual for the weight of everything you hadn’t said. “And you too, Lisa. Good luck with the wedding!”

Lisa smiled warmly. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice smooth. “Let us know if you're coming."

“Yeah. Hope to see you at the wedding. You too, Frankie,” Harry said, just before you thought about starting to walk to the table at the back of the place.

Frankie looked confused, and looked at you for an answer, or for you to say something.

"Sure," you said, taking him by the arm, ready to leave. "We'll definitely be there!"

You moved in silence toward the booth, Frankie's hand resting at the small of your back, guiding you like an automatic reflex. The low hum of conversation in the restaurant seemed to fade as you both reached the table, and you were strangely relieved that the high backs of the seats shielded you from Harry’s view.

He dropped into the seat across from you, his presence as loud and brash as ever, even without a word. When you looked at him, it struck you how quickly he'd reverted to the expression he always wore around you—furrowed brows, lips pressed into a thin, almost unnatural line. It wasn’t clear if it was annoyance, confusion, or just him being him.

“I’m so hungry,” you said, flipping through the laminated menu like it might hold the answers to something bigger than lunch. “I really want a burger, and some fries.”

He didn’t reply immediately, his stare heavy on you. Then:

“What the fuck was that?”

You sighed, closing the menu and flattening your hands on the table as if bracing yourself. His face was a familiar mix of wide eyes, creased forehead, and that particular grimace that always made you feel like you’d said something wrong.

You shrugged. “My ex.”

“Okay? And?”

“And that’s it. Nothing else.”

Frankie leaned back with a dramatic exhale, the leather of the booth creaking under him. He shook his head in disbelief, his jaw tightening.

“Since when am I your boyfriend?” he asked, his tone sharp with irritation. “Last time I checked, I was doing your brother a favor.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said quickly, cheeks warming. You picked up the menu again, trying to will your face back to neutrality. “Thanks for playing along, anyway.”

He sighed—loud, pointed. You glanced up, and sure enough, he was staring at you, his fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the table. Not impatient, exactly. Calculated.

“You’re not going to tell me what the fuck that was?”

You ignored him, letting the embarrassment swirl hot in your stomach as you fixed your eyes on the menu. Burgers. Burgers. Burgers. Burgers. Fries. Onion rings, maybe.

“Hey,” he said sharply, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

You blinked, snapping your head up to look at him.

“Oh, are you talking to me?”

Frankie gave you a look so exaggerated you almost laughed, except you knew he wasn’t joking.

“Who else would I be talking to? You think I’m out here monologuing? Who are you, fucking De Niro?”

“Hey!” you snapped, slamming the menu down on the table. The sound echoed between you, a sharp punctuation that sent a ripple of air across his forehead, lifting the dark strands just slightly. “Don’t talk to me like that, Francisco. Who do you think you’re talking to? We’re not friends.”

He snorted, the sound sharp but oddly soft at the same time, pulling off his cap and placing it on the seat beside him. With a low groan, he ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching briefly in the strands. His gaze found yours again, his posture seemingly relaxed but betraying a subtle tension. You could see it in the way his shoulders didn’t quite settle, in the way his eyes didn’t blink as he studied you.

“I know, we’re not friends. But I just lied for you. Why? Who was that? And why are you acting so weird?”

Before you could answer, he straightened in his seat, leaning forward slightly. “No, wait. The real question is: why are you acting weirder than usual?”

You folded your arms, leaning back until you felt the booth press into your shoulders. Your gaze flicked to the front door, the thought of walking out taking root in your mind. Leaving felt easier—safer. Honestly, you’d rather trudge all the way back to Austin on foot, the heat and endless asphalt blistering your skin, than sit here and explain yourself to Frankie. He wouldn’t care. Worse, he might care just enough to make you regret opening your mouth.

When your eyes returned to him, though, his expression surprised you. Serious, yes. But not angry. He was watching you with an almost disarming calmness, like he’d decided he had all the time in the world to wait for your answer.

You sighed, the sound shaky as it escaped your chest.

“It’s my ex,” you said, barely above a murmur.

“Yes,” he said immediately. “Your ex. I got that part. And?”

“And his fiancée.”

“Aha,” he nodded slowly, like he was piecing something together, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “Why did you lie to them?”

You swallowed hard, the pulse in your neck thudding too loudly in your ears.

“Because...” Your voice wavered, and you hated it. “Because... Um, he told me I might meet someone at the wedding.”

Frankie blinked, his confusion shifting into something closer to disbelief.

“What?”

“God,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as heat crept up your neck. Your hands dropped to your thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of your jeans. “We dated for four months, and he broke up with me to get engaged to her. Then he invited me to their wedding. When I said I’d go, he told me not to worry about showing up alone, because I’d probably meet someone there.”

Frankie’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out, so you pressed on, a flush of anger sparking under your skin.

“So, I panicked,” you admitted, your voice sharpening. “I told him not to worry, that I’d bring my boyfriend. And then you showed up, and it just—it made sense in the moment, okay? That’s it.”

“It made sense to you to say I was your boyfriend?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “You couldn’t have said I was someone else? Made up something better?”

“No, it didn’t occur to me!” you hissed, your eyes widening as your voice rose, though you kept it just shy of shouting. “I panicked, okay? I’m sorry! What was I supposed to do?”

He stared at you for a moment, his face a mix of annoyance and bafflement, before leaning back again. You could see the wheels turning in his head, though whatever he was thinking, he wasn’t about to share it with you.

You sank deeper into your seat, glaring at the table like it might offer some kind of solace. But all you could feel was the mortifying heat of his gaze, still fixed firmly on you.

Frankie scratched his forehead, his fingers dragging slowly down to his chin, where they rested briefly before falling to the table. His expression was skeptical, as if he were trying to solve a particularly irritating puzzle.

“Okay,” he started, his voice even but edged with disbelief. “So, you dated this guy for three months—”

“Four months,” you corrected, your tone clipped.

“Right. Four months. And then he left you to get engaged?”

“Yeah.”

Frankie leaned back, his posture deceptively relaxed, but the sharpness in his eyes gave him away.

“You’re telling me he cheated on you, and you’re still planning to go to his fucking wedding? Are you out of your mind?”

He propped his chin on his left hand, elbow planted firmly on the table, and his gaze locked onto you. There was something in his expression that made your stomach twist—a combination of pity and incredulity that made you feel stupid, even if he hadn’t said the word outright.

“No, he didn’t cheat on me,” you replied, lowering your voice as you leaned forward slightly, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “We weren’t in a serious relationship. We were just... casually dating. He was always in love with her, but they couldn’t figure things out. I knew that. He told me.”

Frankie’s eyebrows lifted, his disbelief evident.

“He told you he was in love with another woman, and you still kept dating him?”

“No,” you shot back, frowning. “He told me after a while—around the time we broke up. I would never date someone who was in love with someone else.”

“But you were in love with him, weren’t you?”

There it was. That tone. The one that suggested Frankie thought he had you all figured out, as if your life and feelings were nothing more than a series of obvious moves on a chessboard he could read from across the room. He was so infuriatingly arrogant, so sure of himself.

You narrowed your eyes, but the involuntary twitch of your eyebrows betrayed you.

“I had feelings for him,” you admitted, your voice stiff with frustration.

Frankie tilted his head slightly, his lips quirking into a half-smile that made you want to smack him.

“Okay, let me make sure I’ve got this straight: this guy you casually dated for four months left you for another woman, got engaged, invited you to the wedding, and you, still hung up on him, agreed to go but invented an imaginary boyfriend so you wouldn’t have to show up alone. That about right?”

“I’m not in love with him,” you snapped, crossing your arms defensively and shaking your head.

“I don’t believe you."

“I don’t care what you believe."

“You want to know what I think?”

“Are you deaf?” you said, your lips pressing into a pout. “I just told you I don’t care.”

“I think you’re crazy for going to that wedding,” he said, leaning forward slightly. His voice dropped lower, as though he were sharing a secret, though his words carried no sympathy. “Do you want to torture yourself or something? Are you a masochist?”

The word slipped out like a dagger, his eyes narrowing as he studied your reaction, his face drawing closer, his voice almost a whisper.

You exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and disbelief, biting your lower lip as you turned to look out the window. The distant hum of cars on the road outside felt like the only thing grounding you in the moment.

When you looked back at him, your voice was steadier, quieter.

“We’re friends. Things between us ended well. Why wouldn’t I go to his wedding?”

“So he broke your heart, and you’re still going to his wedding. Got it.” Frankie leaned back slightly as he said it, his tone deliberately even, but the words were sharp enough to make you flinch.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, anger mixing with a deep, familiar embarrassment.

“Why the fuck do you care anyway? I already told you everything. Make fun of me all you want, but stop interrogating me and leave me alone.”

Frankie’s eyebrows lifted, his expression shifting into something maddeningly amused. A slow, sarcastic smile spread across his face, the kind that made your stomach twist in irritation.

“You got me involved in this, remember?” he said, his voice light, almost playful, which only made you angrier.

“It was just a little lie, that’s all.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head.

“Well, you didn’t think it through,” he said flatly, reaching across the table to grab the menu you’d abandoned. He straightened it out in front of him, his fingers smoothing the creases, and his eyes scanned the options with an air of exaggerated focus.

For a moment, you thought he might actually drop it. But of course, he didn’t.

“I wonder what he’ll think,” Frankie said suddenly, his tone casual but cutting, “when he sees you show up to the wedding alone.” His eyes stayed on the menu, but his words hung heavy in the air between you. “You should’ve come up with something else. Be more witty next time. Or, I don’t know, just don’t go to the wedding. That works too.”

Oh.

Your stomach churned at the thought, the weight of it pressing down on you as your mind raced through the possibilities. He was right, of course. What were you going to do? There was no way you could actually show up to the wedding now. You’d have to turn down the invitation at the last minute, make up some absurd excuse about why you couldn’t make it. Or maybe you wouldn’t say anything at all. Harry didn’t deserve an explanation. He wasn’t entitled to one.

The silence stretched between you, uncomfortable and loud. You didn’t answer him. What could you say? You felt silly, even ridiculous, sitting there, replaying the moment over and over in your mind. Of all the places in the world, did you really have to run into Harry there, in the middle of the road, with Frankie of all people?

None of this would’ve happened if Santiago had come to pick you up like he was supposed to. If he’d warned you he couldn’t make it, you would’ve saved yourself the humiliation. You wouldn’t have had to deal with Frankie’s smirking face or his infuriating commentary.

You stared at the table, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of it. God, why did everything have to turn into a mess? Why couldn’t things just go smoothly for once?

Frankie didn’t seem to notice—or care—that you hadn’t responded. He flipped a page of the menu, his expression unreadable now, as if he’d already moved on. But his words lingered, heavy and persistent, refusing to leave you alone.

With your appetite nearly nonexistent, you ordered a hamburger. It sat heavy in front of you, unappealing and far too big. You nibbled at it slowly, methodically, as if chewing it down might somehow help you swallow the rest of your humiliation. Across the table, Frankie made quick work of his own meal. He ate like someone who hadn’t seen food in days, the kind of eating that could make anyone watching feel small.

When he finished—barely ten minutes in—he leaned back in his chair and fixed you with a look. Not an outright stare, but enough of one that you could feel the weight of his impatience.

You didn’t care.

Instead, you turned your attention to the fries on your plate. Picking up each one with deliberate slowness, you savored them, your gaze drifting toward the window. Outside, the road stretched on endlessly, shimmering in the summer heat. Frankie sighed, low and exasperated, every few minutes, but to your surprise, he didn’t rush you.

When you finally stood to leave, Harry and Lisa were nowhere to be seen. Relief swept over you like cool water. If you’d had to exchange goodbyes with them, you were sure you’d lose every bite of food you’d managed to stomach.

You followed Frankie out to the car. His footsteps were quick and purposeful, the kind that demanded anyone trailing behind him keep up or risk being left behind. Once inside, the tight, enclosed space of the vehicle made your skin crawl. You clicked your seatbelt into place, but the snugness of the strap across your chest only added to your discomfort.

For a fleeting moment, you considered bolting. What if you just opened the door and threw yourself onto the hot, sticky asphalt? You’d roll a little, maybe scrape a knee, but at least you wouldn’t be here.

The car started with a low rumble, and Frankie turned up the music without a word. The sound wasn’t loud enough to drown out your thoughts, but it added a layer of noise, a distraction you didn’t ask for but didn’t resist either.

Your gaze shifted to the scenery blurring past the window. You rested your forehead against the cool glass, welcoming the breeze coming in through the lowered window. The air smelled faintly of gasoline and sun-warmed earth.

Frankie drove in silence, his hands steady on the wheel. His thumbs tapped along to the rhythm of the song playing faintly in the background—Rebel Yell by Billy Idol. You stared at the horizon, but your mind kept circling back to him.

He probably thought this whole situation was hilarious. You could see it in the way his eyebrows had lifted earlier, the way his lips twitched with incredulity every time he asked about Harry. He didn’t need to say it—he thought you were foolish, and maybe you were. You felt it, deep in your chest, that heavy, sinking shame that told you he was right to think so.

What the hell were you going to do?

Not going to the wedding wasn’t an option, not unless you wanted Harry to think you were still upset—or worse, that you still cared. But going? Going alone? That wasn’t an option either. You could bring someone else, maybe. But who?

Harry knew all your friends, and you didn’t have many male ones left who weren’t married, taken, or entirely inappropriate. Your brother’s friends? Sure, because that would work out great. Another one of Santiago’s buddies, strolling in on your arm. You ran through the list in your head. Will? No. Ben? Ben had a girlfriend.

It was hopeless. Every scenario felt more humiliating than the last.

God, you wished you could disappear. Or better yet, transform into something simple and unbothered. A worm, maybe. Worms didn’t have exes. They didn’t have weddings to dread.

You were spiraling, and it must have shown on your face because Frankie spoke up, his voice breaking through your chaotic thoughts.

“We’ll make a stop to fill up the tank, okay?” His tone was casual, distracted, as he turned left into the gas station lot.

“Sure,” you mumbled, barely lifting your head.

The car slowed to a stop, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. For a moment, the world outside felt steadier than the one inside your head.

You followed Frankie out of the car, your steps slower and more hesitant than his easy stride. He moved with the kind of casual confidence that seemed effortless, his shoulders relaxed and his head bobbing slightly as he hummed along to a song that had been playing a few miles back. The heat pressed down on you, thick and relentless, but he didn’t seem to notice.

You lingered by the passenger side, arms folded across your chest. Your gaze flitted to the gas station shop, where shelves of snacks and cold drinks promised brief relief from the sweltering air. For a fleeting moment, you considered going inside—maybe grabbing a soda, or even just standing under the blast of an air conditioner. But then you thought about how much longer that would draw out this journey. The idea of extending your time in Frankie’s company, even by a minute, was enough to keep you rooted in place.

So you waited, watching him in silence. He moved with the kind of efficiency you’d expect from someone used to things like this—mundane tasks, long drives, solitude. He didn’t rush, but he didn’t dawdle either. He glanced at you once as he replaced the nozzle, his expression unreadable, and then he climbed back into the car without a word.

You followed suit, settling into your seat and pulling the door shut with a soft click.

The miles ahead stretched out endlessly, yet the closer you got to Austin, the more your thoughts swirled. You cycled through possibilities, none of them good. Each option felt like another layer of embarrassment, a new way to showcase just how deeply you’d tangled yourself in this ridiculous situation.

Eventually, your mind settled on one solution—a compromise of sorts, though it was far from ideal. You turned it over and over, weighing the risk against your pride. It felt heavy in your chest, but the closer you got to the city, the harder it became to ignore.

Finally, as the familiar outline of Austin came into view, you forced yourself to speak.

“Frankie,” you said, your voice tentative. You turned to look at him, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap.

He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “What?”

“You know,” you began, cautiously, “Santi loves you a lot. You’re one of his best friends.”

“I know.”

“And you must love Santi too, right? I mean, you’d do anything for him.”

At that, he glanced at you, his brows knitting together in confusion. The kindness in your voice must have thrown him off. But what really seemed to unnerve him was the faint, almost hesitant smile you were giving him.

“Of course I love him,” he said slowly, his tone edged with suspicion. “What do you want?”

You smiled a little wider, tilting your head. “Why do you think I want something?”

“Because you’re smiling at me like that,” he shot back, returning his focus to the road. “And it’s creepy. Stop it. You’re scaring me.”

“I just think,” you said carefully, “that it was really nice of you to go all the way to Dallas to pick me up. You didn’t have to, you know. I could’ve taken a bus or figured something out. But you did it anyway. You did me a favor today, and I just—”

He cut you off with a dry laugh, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. A bead of sweat had formed there, glistening in the harsh afternoon light.

“If you want to call it that,” he muttered.

“I mean it,” you insisted, leaning slightly toward him. “You didn’t have to do this. You could’ve said no, and I wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. Why?”

His grip tightened on the wheel, and he shot you another quick, sidelong glance. His expression was guarded, like he wasn’t sure where this was going or if he wanted to know.

“I dunno,” he said finally, his tone clipped. “Because Santi asked me to. Because I had nothing else to do. Does it matter?”

You pursed your lips, staring straight ahead as your thoughts spiraled. Why were you nervous? It wasn’t fear—definitely not fear of him. But still, there was something about Frankie that unsettled you, something sharp-edged and unyielding in the way he looked at you, like he could see more than you intended to show.

You forced yourself to steady your breathing, trying to reason with your own hesitation. It didn’t matter if he was intimidating. It didn’t matter what he thought of you.

“I think you should come to the wedding with me,” you blurted, the words tumbling out before you had the chance to second-guess them. As soon as they were out, you snapped your gaze away, focusing intently on a crack in the dashboard as though it held the secrets of the universe.

“What?” Frankie’s tone wasn’t as surprised as you’d expected—it was more amused, like he thought you’d just said something profoundly ridiculous.

“You should come to the wedding with me,” you repeated, forcing yourself to look at him this time.

He turned his head briefly, his eyes scanning your face, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be studying you, trying to decide whether you were joking or if you’d completely lost your mind. Finally, he clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“No,” he said flatly.

“Frankie.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked, his voice rising slightly in exasperation. “Did you hit your head or something? Have you completely lost it?”

“No, just hear me out,” you said, raising a hand in what you hoped was a calming gesture. He shot you a wary glance but didn’t interrupt. “It’ll just be a favor—a small favor. I swear, if you do this for me, I’ll give you whatever you want. Wathever. Um, well—not whatever you want,” you corrected quickly. “Something reasonable. Something human. Please.”

Frankie snorted, a small, incredulous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re asking me to pretend to be your boyfriend at the wedding of a guy who dumped you? And you’re the sister of one of my best friends?” He shook his head, laughing quietly, like he couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of your mouth.

You sighed, the weight of your desperation pressing down on you.

“Santi will understand,” you argued, your tone bordering on pleading now. “He will. And it’s not like I’m asking for much—just come with me for a little while. We don’t even have to stay all night. Just long enough to…” You trailed off, realizing how pathetic you sounded. “Just long enough to make it believable.”

“Sorry, no,” Frankie said firmly, cutting you off. “I’m not getting dragged into your drama. And honestly? I think it’s stupid for you to go to that wedding in the first place. What are you trying to prove? My answer is no. Invite someone else.”

Frustration burned in your chest, rising up to your cheeks as his words landed. You could feel your face heating, both from embarrassment and anger.

“I can’t invite someone else,” you snapped. “You’re my boyfriend, remember? That’s what Harry thinks. He saw you. They saw you. And you did a pretty good job pretending to be nice to me today—can’t you do it one more time? Just this once?”

“No—”

“I’ll do anything you want,” you interrupted, your voice insistent. “I mean it. Any favor you can think of. Just name it.”

Frankie tilted his head, giving you a skeptical look.

“I’m not interested in any favors from you,” he said bluntly. “I don’t need anything.”

“Then do it for Santi,” you said, desperate now.

Frankie laughed at that, a low, disbelieving sound that only irritated you further.

“What does your brother have to do with any of this?”

“He’s your best friend,” you said, leaning toward him slightly, like you could will him to understand. “And you love him. And I’m his sister.”

“Uh-huh,” Frankie said, still smirking. “So?”

“So, doesn’t that mean you should help me?”

Frankie’s laugh grew louder, his shoulders shaking slightly as he glanced at you.

“You’re really reaching now, aren’t you?”

He turned to look at you then, the movement deliberate, his eyes narrowing slightly as they met yours. There was no malice there, but the firm set of his jaw told you all you needed to know—there was no convincing him. He understood the weight of your request, the quiet urgency stitched into each word, but it didn’t sway him.

“I’ve never asked you for help before,” you said, your voice softer now, almost brittle. “In fact, I’ve refused your help plenty of times. You said I was childish, remember? Well, fine. Maybe I’m being childish. But now I’m asking. Just this once.”

He shook his head slowly.

“It’s not the same thing,” he said, his voice low and steady, like he was trying to explain something simple to a child. “And you are being childish. Like I told you—no. The answer’s fucking no.”

You blinked hard, swallowing against the sting of rejection that settled heavy in your throat.

“Okay, fine,” you replied, the word clipped, your voice devoid of emotion. You turned your face away from him, angling it toward the window, not wanting him to see the look on your face—humiliation, maybe, or something closer to defeat. “Thank you.”

Frankie sighed, long and low, his hands flexing around the steering wheel as though he were squeezing the last ounce of patience from himself. The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the low hum of the car and the faint thrum of your pulse in your ears.

The rest of the drive passed without a single word exchanged. You stared out the window while Frankie focused intently on the road, his grip on the wheel tight and unyielding.

When the car finally pulled up in front of your house, the relief that washed over you was immediate and overwhelming. You reached for the door handle, your fingers trembling slightly, and stepped out into the humid air.

Frankie followed, moving around to the back of the car with the same mechanical precision he’d had all day. He popped the trunk and pulled out your suitcase, the effort seemingly as uninspired as when he’d loaded it hours ago.

He carried it to the door and set it down, his movements brisk, almost dismissive. You stood there, arms crossed, your body angled away from him, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“That’ll be all,” he said finally, his tone flat, his sunglasses obscuring his eyes on your face.

“Thank you,” you murmured, barely audible. “I’ll let Santi know I’m home.”

“Good.”

You didn’t look up as he turned back toward the car. You didn’t watch him leave, but you heard the sound of his door slamming shut, the low rumble of the engine as he drove off.

As the noise of his departure faded into the distance, you stayed rooted to the spot for a moment longer, the weight of the day pressing heavy on your shoulders. The heat prickled against your skin, and your head ached faintly, a dull reminder of how much you wanted this day to end.

You grabbed the handle of your suitcase, pulling it inside as the silence of the house enveloped you. You needed a shower—cold water to wash away the heat, the frustration, the embarrassment of it all. You needed to be alone, to let the day dissolve into nothingness behind a locked door.

Nearly two weeks slipped by, lost in the haze of your routines and the background hum of self-destructive thoughts.

What were you going to do? Probably nothing. You wouldn’t go. That was the easiest answer, and maybe the only one that made sense. What choice did you really have?

Still, Frankie’s words stuck in your head, gnawing at the edges of your resolve. What are you trying to prove? he’d asked. And after a few restless nights, staring at the ceiling and replaying the conversation, you realized he was right. You did want to prove something—to Harry, to yourself. You wanted him to see you happy, radiantly happy, at his wedding, as though it didn’t touch you at all. You wanted to seem light and unbothered, the kind of woman who could be at her ex’s wedding without flinching.

Except you did care. Of course, you cared. You hated that you cared. And you hated Harry for putting you in this position. How could you not be upset? The man had left you only a few months ago, and now he was marrying someone else. It wasn’t normal—none of it was. But you couldn’t shake the question gnawing at the back of your mind: why did you have to be the one left hurt?

And Frankie. You’d hated the way he’d looked at you when he said it; What are you trying to prove? What the hell were you trying to prove? like he couldn’t believe how foolish you were. If you hadn’t wanted to see him before, you definitely didn’t want to now. You resolved to talk to Santi, to tell him how uncomfortable the trip had been—without blaming Frankie, exactly—and to ask, kindly but firmly, that he warn you if Frankie would be around in the future.

It was humiliating, this whole situation. But you were sure about one thing: you never wanted to see Francisco Morales again.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving your kitchen in soft shadows as you stirred sugar into your coffee. Your gaze stayed fixed on your laptop, on Harry’s wedding invitation glowing on the screen. You’d read it so many times it felt permanently etched into your mind. But now, you’d decided. You weren’t going.

Your finger hovered over the trackpad, guiding the cursor to the “RSVP not attending” option. You paused, just for a second, your chest tightening. Then, before you could click, the doorbell rang, sharp and sudden, making you flinch.

Setting the mug down, you crossed to the window, peering out at the sidewalk. The sight below made your brows knit together. That couldn’t be right. Surely, you were imagining things.

You slipped on a pair of shoes and headed downstairs, opening the door without much thought.

“Francisco,” you said flatly, his name sitting awkwardly on your tongue. “What are you doing here? Did something happen with Santi?”

He dragged a hand over his mouth and shook his head, slow and deliberate.

“Can we talk?”

“About what?” Your tone was sharp, incredulous, your expression twisted like he’d just said something absurd.

He looked different somehow. Neater, you thought, though you hated yourself for noticing. His hair was slightly shorter, his beard more trimmed than usual.

He sighed, long and heavy, like he’d been forced into something he didn’t want to do. The sound made you laugh, a sharp, derisive snort. As if he had the right to be irritated. He’d shown up unannounced, at night, on your doorstep. If anyone should feel fed up, it was you.

“I’m going to help you,” he said finally, the words clipped and begrudging.

“With what?”

“With your ex.”

“What?” The confusion on your face deepened. “Harry?”

Frankie glanced to the side, as if checking for onlookers, before returning his gaze to you and nodding.

“Are there other exes you need help with?”

His question was thick with sarcasm, and you rolled your eyes in response.

“Well, I don’t need your help anymore. But thanks,” you said quickly, your voice tight, as you began to push the door shut, inch by inch.

Then his hand was on it, stopping you.

“Wait,” he said, and this time his voice was different—tinged with something almost like desperation. “I’m serious.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes at him through the gap.

“Why would you help me? You were very clear the other day,” you said, your tone sharp. “There’s no point in me going to the wedding.”

“True, there’s no point,” he said, his gaze steady on yours. “But I know you well enough to know you’d love to go anyway. To show Harry how great you’re doing. Am I wrong?”

“You’re wrong,” you shot back instantly, too quickly.

Frankie sighed, the sound dragging out like he was trying to buy himself time. He glanced away for a second, then back at you, his expression suddenly resolute.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he said.

You blinked at him, stunned into silence for a moment.

Then, with a raised brow, you asked, “Are you sick? Do you have a fever, Francisco?” You brought your hand up toward his forehead, but he flinched back dramatically before you could touch him.

“What are you up to?” you asked, pulling the door open wider, suspicion laced in your tone.

Frankie stood there, his posture stiff, his expression uncomfortable, like he was holding something in that might burst out if you pressed too hard.

“May I come in?” he asked finally, his brown eyes soft and glinting, almost boyish.

You hesitated, studying him for a few beats, letting the curiosity outweigh your disdain. Then you stepped back and opened the door fully, sealing the moment with the soft click of the latch behind him.

Frankie climbed the stairs ahead of you, pausing at the top to wait as you opened the door to your apartment. He stepped inside, scanning the space.

Your living room was warm, cozy but cluttered—books and mugs scattered across the coffee table and nearly every other available surface, interspersed with pens, pencils, and random odds and ends. Behind the sofa, the kitchen was visible, small but functional.

You stood back, watching him take it all in. His expression was unreadable, but you imagined him silently judging the chaos. You almost wanted him to—let him think it was messy, or that your style was lacking. You didn’t care.

He didn’t belong there, in your space. Everything about him seemed incongruous with the world you’d built for yourself—his presence like a mismatched puzzle piece, forcibly shoved into place where it clearly didn’t fit. He was out of tune with your reality, standing in the warmth of your living room like he’d wandered in from an entirely different life.

You crossed to the kitchen island, where your half-drunk coffee sat waiting. Sliding onto the stool, you gestured at the one across from you.

“Have a seat.”

Frankie hesitated but eventually sat down, his movements stiff and reluctant, like he’d rather be anywhere else. His expression was tight, uncomfortable, like he was a vampire catching the faintest whiff of garlic in the air. His eyes landed immediately on your laptop, still glowing with Harry’s wedding invitation.

“I see you’re taking the wedding well,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You sighed audibly, refusing to take the bait.

“What do you want?”

As you waited for him to answer, you lifted your coffee to your lips. It had already cooled, the bitterness more pronounced now that it was lukewarm. Another thing he ruined for you, you thought bitterly. Your fucking coffee.

“I’ve been thinking—”

“Congratulations,” you cut in, deadpan.

Frankie’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and unamused. He didn’t even blink, just stared at you like he was waiting for you to get it out of your system. You shrugged, feigning indifference, though the weight of his gaze made your skin prickle.

“I’ve decided I’m going to the wedding with you,” he said finally.

You raised an eyebrow, lowering your mug to the counter.

“You decided? I thought you didn’t want to go with me.”

“I don’t,” he said. His fingers brushed the edge of your laptop, tracing a line along it.

“But you’re still here,” you said, your voice laced with suspicion.

Frankie exhaled slowly, leaning back slightly.

“I’ll help you… if you help me.”

“If I help you? With what? Don’t tell me you’re finally going to therapy,” you blurted out, a half-smile tugging at your lips.

Frankie straightened in his seat, his back stiffening like you’d just landed a verbal jab. For a moment, it looked like he might get up and leave—walk out and never look back. But instead, he stayed. He clenched his jaw, his eyes locking on yours with a determined, almost defiant look.

“I had dinner with my family tonight,” he began, his voice measured but tense. “With my mom and two of my sisters—”

“Is that why you look like that?” you interrupted, tilting your head.

“What?”

“Like you finally took a bath,” you said, your smirk widening.

Frankie exhaled sharply, his patience visibly fraying. “Can you shut up and listen to me for a second? I’ll be brief.”

You held up a hand as if to say, Fine, go on.

“They’re nice, my family, but they won’t leave me alone,” he said, his tone growing more frustrated. “All through dinner, they kept asking me these awkward questions, trying to convince me to go on these dates they’ve been setting up with their friends’ daughters or coworkers or whoever.”

Your smile widened, thoroughly amused. “Why? Why don’t you just go? Come to think of it—”

“No,” he cut you off, his voice sharp. “I already agreed once, and it was a disaster. I’m not doing it again. And I’m not about to get into that with you.”

“Good,” you said, leaning back slightly. “Because I’m not interested.”

Frankie sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.

“Every time I see them—for over a year now—it’s the same thing. They won’t leave me alone. And look, I get it. They’re trying to be helpful. But I’ve had enough.”

Your curiosity piqued at that. “What happened a year ago? Why?”

Frankie’s face tightened, his upper lip curling slightly as if the question had caught him off guard.

He frowned, his brows drawing together, before finally muttering, “That doesn’t matter.”

The dodge only made you more curious, but you let it go, watching as he leaned forward slightly, his hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“The point is,” he continued, “I got fed up. So tonight, when they started in on me again, I told them to back off. That I didn’t need them setting me up on dates because… because I already have a girlfriend.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, their weight sinking in.

Oh.

“Oh,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyebrows lifted just enough to show your surprise, though you tried to mask it.

Frankie shifted in his seat, his gaze falling to his hand resting on his knee. He shook his head slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible motion, as though he was trying to block out whatever he feared you might say next.

“Funny,” you said, your voice light with mockery. “And your mother believed you?”

When he looked up at you, his expression darkened. The amused smile playing on your lips ignited a flash of irritation in his eyes. You looked entirely too entertained by the situation, and it made him bristle.

“Hardly,” he admitted, his tone sharp. “I don’t even think I convinced her. That’s why I need your help.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly, as though creating space from whatever absurdity was about to come out of his mouth.

“You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?”

Frankie nodded once, curtly. “My mom’s birthday is in a few days. She’s turning sixty. She’s having this big nice party, and she told me she wants to meet my girlfriend then.”

You crossed your arms, still trying to gauge whether or not this was some elaborate joke.

“When’s the party?”

“Next Saturday.”

Your eyebrows shot up, and your lips parted in disbelief.

“Francisco,” you grumbled, the word low and heavy. “That’s in three days.”

“I know,” he muttered, matching your tone. His jaw tightened like he was already regretting the entire conversation.

“And what did you tell her?” you demanded. “What did you say when she asked?”

Frankie’s hand moved to the counter, his fingers drumming once before he let them still.

He hesitated, and then, in a resigned voice, said, “I told her yes. That I’d bring my girlfriend to her birthday.” He paused, meeting your gaze. “So she’d finally leave me alone.”

You pushed back from the stool, standing in one swift, exasperated motion. Your hands flew to your hips, your whole body radiating irritation as you glared at him.

“Oh, so you just assumed I’d help you, didn’t you?” you snapped, your voice loud in the otherwise quiet apartment. “What if I said no?”

“I knew you wouldn’t say no,” Frankie said, meeting your anger with calm certainty.

You let out an incredulous laugh, your head tilting back briefly before you fixed him with a sharp look.

“My God, what’s wrong with you? You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

He didn’t flinch, though you could see his patience thinning in the slight twitch of his brow.

“I know you well enough to know you’ll say yes,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact, as though he were stating the obvious.

The sheer audacity of it made you want to scream.

Frankie rose from his spot, his movements deliberate and quick. His footsteps echoed as he crossed the room, closing the space between you with purposeful strides. He stopped in front of you, standing taller, looking down at you with an intensity that was hard to ignore.

“I know you want to go to the wedding,” he said, his voice firm. “I know you asked me to go with you, and you were persistent. And anyway, I think you owe me.”

You blinked, incredulous, a small laugh escaping your lips despite yourself.

“I owe you?”

Frankie’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he took a small step closer.

“Don’t forget that the only reason you didn’t make a complete fool of yourself in front of Harry was because I decided to help you. I played along. If I’d wanted to, I could’ve exposed you in front of him and his fiancée. I could’ve made it worse.”

“Thank you so much, Francisco, you're a fucking angel,” you spat, your tone thick with sarcasm, though the incredulous smile on your face betrayed how absurd it all felt. “What do you want me to do? Give you a hero of the century award?”

Frankie’s expression didn’t waver; he was dead serious. “No. Come with me to my mom’s birthday and we’re even.”

You froze for a moment, processing his words, the sheer audacity of them making your heart skip a beat. This was beyond ridiculous.

"You're fucking crazy! Are you serious?" you demanded, unable to hide the disbelief in your voice. "It’s not even close. Harry’s my ex something, nothing more. And you’re asking me to go with you to a family event, full of your relatives, and you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend in front of all of them?”

Frankie’s eyes flicked upwards, his impatience seeping into his expression. He rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like we’re getting married,” he said, dismissive, his voice tinged with frustration. “You’re exaggerating. It’s not the first time I’ve taken a girlfriend to a family thing. What are you, fifteen?”

You crossed your arms, giving him a skeptical look. “I don’t know, by my standards, introducing a girlfriend to your family seems like a pretty serious thing.”

Frankie exhaled through his nose, clearly growing more insistent. He looked at you with unwavering intensity, his gaze now pointed, as if trying to break through the walls you were building between you and this ridiculous proposition.

“I’ll take care of that,” he said, his voice steady but with a finality that made it clear he wasn’t backing down.

You stood there for a moment, the room stretching in a strange, suspended silence. You weighed his words in your mind, the absurdity of the situation tangled with a strange sense of reluctant curiosity.

“Are you really going to accompany me to the wedding?” you asked, your voice quieter than you’d intended, the question slipping out like something you hadn’t meant to say aloud.

Frankie nodded, a reassuring, almost teasing gesture, as though he was certain he had already won.

“I’ll help you catch the bouquet and everything,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling in a grin that almost made you want to punch him.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, your voice edged with irritation.

“And yet, here you are, still going with me to that wedding.”

Frustration rose in your chest, pooling in your throat like heat. You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the rush of emotion that threatened to spill over. How utterly insolent. How impossible.

“Fine,” you finally spat out, barely containing the anger simmering beneath your words. “I’ll help you. But you’d better make my time count, Francisco.”

He flashed a half-smile, the kind of smug, self-satisfied smirk that made your fingers itch to slap him. You wanted to say something else—something cutting, something that would make him regret this entire conversation. But you couldn’t.

Instead, Frankie reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and tapped the screen a couple of times before handing it to you.

“Give me your number.”

You took the phone from him with a swift, almost startled motion, your fingers brushing against his as you punched in your number. The action felt mechanical, as if you were moving through a script you didn’t want to follow. When you handed it back to him, you watched him tap the screen, adding you to his contacts with deliberate motions. His fingers moved quickly, but you couldn’t catch the name he gave you. It was probably something ridiculous, something that made you cringe even without knowing it.

He didn’t say anything, just slid the phone back into his pocket, and turned to head for the door. But before he reached it, he stopped and looked at you, his eyes meeting yours once more.

“I’ll text you,” he said abruptly, almost as if it were a last-minute afterthought.

And then, without waiting for a response, he opened the door and left, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet stairs. You stood there, still staring at the empty doorway, the weight of his words hanging in the air long after he was gone.

With one click, you confirmed your attendance.

tags: @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti (a few of the tags aren't working, idk why, fix it tumblr!!!!)

beautiful divider by @saradika-graphics 💗

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