#catfish x you x pope x ofc

[absurdthirst]

The Cupid Shuffle {Frankie Morales x F!Reader x Pope x F!OC}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: Exhibitionism, voyeurism, bisexual women, mentions of past sexual relationships, little bit of putting on a show for the boys, women making out, mentions of fantasies, oral sex (male and female receiving), partner swapping, unprotected sex, cum eating

Comments: Inviting Pope and his girl over for a low-key Valentine's night movie turns in to something much more.

A/N: Valentine's Day foursome? More likely than you'd think!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Frankie Morales MasterList ||

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

“Babe. I was talking to Santi and he’s cool with a movie night tonight. Him and his girl are going to go out tomorrow like us because tonight is always crazy busy. So it’s a quiet one in for Valentine’s Day.” Frankie says as he comes up to you to caress your waist, leaning in to kiss your neck. “You wanna go get some snacks? You know Santi will eat us out of everything if we don’t buy extra.” He jokes and you turn your head to kiss him, smiling against his lips. “What time are they coming over?” You ask and he murmurs, “seven.”

You grin, happy that this is happening. Santiago Garcia, or ‘Pope’ as Frankie calls him, is dating your friend from college. You had been the one to set them up, absolutely in love with your helicopter pilot boyfriend and Pope had always been a flirty, fun time when he was in town. After he’s moved back permanently, you had set them up and the rest is history. “Perfect. A low key night is just what we all need.” You promise, kissing him again 

and smirking. “And after, I’ll give you your present.”

Frankie smirks, loving how eager you are and he’s excited to get you in bed after the movie ends and Pope and his girl are gone. “Baby, you’re already my present.” He murmurs, nipping your ear as you lean back against him. “Let’s get everything set up and we need blankets for the movie.”

You decide to have groceries delivered instead of going out, allowing you and Frankie to clean up and get ready to have them over. It’s not necessary, but you set out some of the candles Frankie got you for Christmas and light them, enjoying the romantic glow with the soft blankets strewn around for couples to cuddle under. “This is better than battling the craziness of a restaurant and a movie theater.” You decide, smiling at Frankie. You know that he hates crowded places and is constantly on alert for threats, so it’s easy to accommodate him and do a romantic night in on the busiest day for most fine dining restaurants.

Frankie nods, “it looks great, babe. I prefer this than going out and battling the crowds. We got some movies saved on the tv so we have a few options. You gonna make that dip?” He asks, biting his lower lip with a pleading expression. You nod and he groans, his hands caressing your side, “fuck yes. I can’t wait for that.”

You laugh quietly, swearing that dip is what made Frankie fall for you. Eating your dip at a party to the point where he almost made himself sick. “I’ll go make it now, I’ve got everything I need.”

Frankie playfully smacks your ass and you gasp, making him chuckle. His life was so dark before he met you. You brighten his days, make him believe in a hopeful future. You saved him. He’d be lost without you. “I’ll go get the drinks ready.” He says, making his way to the garage to grab the ice bucket and drinks for the movie marathon you have planned. Pope and his girl will be arriving soon.

The other food arrives and you set the store bought wings out on a tray and pop the pizzas into the oven and dump a bag of cheddar popcorn into a bowl. Just as you are setting it and the dip out, the doorbell rings out. “Oh! They are here!” You squeal, excited to see them.

Frankie heads to the door before you, opening it to greet his best friend and your best friend. You’ve been on quite a few couple dates, enjoying each other’s company during game nights. It’s been a perfect combination so far. “Hermano. Todo día más feo.” Pope teases Frankie as he pats him on the back in a hug and Frankie affectionately rolls his eyes as your best friend steps around the men to greet you.

“Hey!!!!” You and Dara throw your arms around each other and squeeze tight. Always happy to see each other and it’s such a joy to see your friend so happy after having so many shit boyfriends before Pope. You had constantly moaned together that it seems like there weren’t any good men anymore, and now you are both with ones that are completely amazing. If Pope had been kind of a playboy before, he had focused all that flirtatious energy into making sure your friend was head over heels for him. “How are you? I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had time to call!” You apologize and look at her once you break apart. 

She grins at you, “I’ve been so busy with the new job and honestly, going to Pope’s nearly every night. I’m hoping he’s going to ask me to move in soon since I basically live with him by now anyway.” She says, squeezing your hands as she glances over at Pope who is telling Frankie about his latest client in his security business. “We need a brunch to catch up.” Dara giggles and you nod, “yes we do. You want a drink? I got that vodka that you like.” Dara nods and lets you drag her into the kitchen with a smile.

“It going okay with your girl?” Pope asks Frankie who nods, glancing back at the door you disappeared through.

“She’s everything.” He murmurs, a silly smile on his face that Pope understands.

“Sooooooo.” You grin as you pour the vodka and add juice to it for Dara before mixing up one of your own. “Tell me, how is basically living with Pope?” You ask. “You look happy, really happy. And I love that for you.”

Dara grins, her cheeks hurting from how much she’s been smiling, “honestly, he’s so good. In every way.” Her voice lowers slightly, “he flirts like crazy with me and only me. All that attention makes a girl crazy in love.” She confesses and you squeal quietly, the ice cubes in your drink shaking as you bounce a little.

“Love?” You ask and she nods in confirmation.

“Who would’ve thought? Both of us in love? Especially when we were lonely and horny and used to-” Dara is cut off as the boys come into the kitchen to grab their beers, “you ladies ready for an epic movie marathon?” Pope asks, leaning in to kiss Dara on the cheek.

“Let’s do it.” You wink at Frankie and he nods, walking back into the living room to get the movie up on the streaming service. Pope and Dara take a seat on the large sectional, snuggling into each other and Frankie holds his arm out for you to curl into his side.

You fold into his arms easily and pull the cover up over your laps. The snacks are out and you smile over at Dara and Pope as they curl together near you, Dara closest to you. “Let me know when you need another drink.” You murmur to Dara before the movie starts.

The movie is some superhero movie the boys wanted to watch. The next movie is your choice. The explosions are loud and Frankie glances over at Dara and Pope whose eyes are on the screen. His hand slides down from your shoulder until he’s squeezing your breast. Your eyes flick up to his face and he is smirking slightly, knowing you can’t make a noise otherwise the others will know. His hand slides a little lower, brushing past your stomach until he is sliding his hand under the hem of the dress you’re wearing. His fingers trail along your thigh, slow and teasing, and you spread your legs a little for him. Covered by the blanket, his fingers slide higher until they are pressing against your clit through your panties.

Your breath catches and you bite your lip so you don’t moan, not wanting Dara and Pope to know what Frankie is doing to you. You aren’t focusing on the movie, having no clue what is going on as your boyfriend starts to rub tight circles on your clit, teasing you as he touches you. Frankie loves to make you cum and you have no doubt that he will right now, regardless of the other people in the room.

Pope smirks as his hand sneaks under the blanket, teasing his girlfriend as he caresses her through her clothes. She offers him a warning look, knowing that they are in someone else’s home. All thoughts of propriety leave her mind when his finger finds her clit, rubbing through her panties under her shirt. She bites her lip and focuses on the screen, unaware that you are doing the same thing. Frankie can feel how tense you are, trying to control yourself and that urges him on, rubbing your clit a little faster and you put your leg up, acting like you’re getting comfortable when you’re really giving him more access to you.

Pope glances over at the two of you, noting the smug smirk on Frankie’s face and he grins. He knows that look, and with the way you are squirming, you’re doing exactly what he and Dara are doing. He leans in and presses his lips to his girlfriend’s neck. “Dirty girl. Just like your friend.” He whispers playfully, biting her ear.

Dara stiffens slightly until she looks over at you and Frankie, knowing that look on your face. "Looks like you had the same idea as us." She declares and you rip your eyes away from the screen to look at your friend just as she pulls the blanket away from her lap to expose Santi's fingers rubbing her clit under her underwear. 

"Jesus." Frankie hisses, his cock already hard against your side as you lean against him. You smirk and pull your blanket off too, watching as Santi continues to rub Dara's clit. 

"Damn, baby. What a sight." Santi coos and Frankie doesn't stop his movements. The four of you watch each other, the movie forgotten as you moan softly. 

"Wanna have some fun, like old times?" Dara asks, her eyes flicking between you and Frankie.

Frankie’s eyes widen, gaze darting between you and his mouth is hanging open. 

“Baby?” You turn to look at him and lean in to kiss the bare spot on his jaw where his whiskers never grow. “Do you want to see me fool around with Dara?” You ask him, turning to look at Pope with a questioning look. You think it would be sexy, but if your boyfriend or Santi isn’t okay with it, you wouldn’t touch her.

Frankie is a little dumbstruck and he nods, looking over at Santi who grins and says “fuck yeah.”

Frankie leans in to kiss you softly, “yes. I want - want whatever you are comfortable with.” He murmurs, pulling his hand from your underwear to give you the freedom to touch Dara how you want. 

Dara grins, “like those lonely nights back in college.” She teases, leaning in to cup your cheek after Santi pulls his hand away from her and she leans in to press her lips to yours.

You are familiar with her mouth, accepting the kiss eagerly and curling your hand around the back of her head and sliding your tongue into her mouth. There were plenty of nights that you had done this and more, because you were bored, lonely, curious and finally just enjoying yourself. You hear the way the boys groan beside you but you are enjoying the way you know they are staring at both of you.

Santi reaches down to squeeze his cock through his pants, not noticing Frankie do the same as the two men watch their girlfriends kiss. Every guy’s dream honestly. Frankie caresses your back, squeezing your ass as you slide your tongue against Dara’s until she pulls back with a grin. “I wanna - do you want to switch?” She asks breathlessly, glancing behind you to Frankie.

You know that Dara has always been interested in how Frankie is as a lover and despite him being your boyfriend, you aren’t jealous. This woman has been a lover on and off for years and you have no jealousy. “What do you think, baby?” You ask Frankie, reaching down and pulling her tits out of her shirt and sneezing them. “Do you want to touch Dara like this? Show her how good your tongue is, like I’ve bragged about since the first night we’ve fucked?”

Frankie is torn, wondering for a second if this is a test, but your eyes are dark with lust and he glances at Pope to make sure he’s on the same page. His best friend nods, “as long as I get to see what these blowjobs you rave about are like.” He teases and Frankie smirks, “just you wait, hermano.” 

Dara giggles, leaning in to kiss you again. “Any of us have an issue, we say it.” She says, setting the rules as she shuffles around you towards Frankie, reaching down to squeeze his cock through his pants. “You weren’t lying when you said how thick he is.” She says and Frankie blushes slightly.

“I would never lie about that.” You coo as you crawl towards Santiago. “My baby is packing, and he knows how to fuck a girl until her legs are jelly.” You bite your lip as you straddle your friend’s boyfriend. “Just like I’m curious to find out how Santiago fucks you so hard you pass out.” You caress his cheek and lean in, the movie forgotten in the background. “Can I kiss you, handsome?”

Santi nods, his hands immediately finding your waist and he groans when you grind down onto him, leaning in to meet your lips in a kiss. Frankie inhales sharply when Dara reaches down to undo his pants, reaching in to pull his hard cock out. 

“Fuck, she wasn’t lying. You are packing. And uncut like Santi. Love that.” She murmurs and grips him, leaning down to take him in her mouth as her eyes focus on his while he watches her.

You look over as Frankie’s head drops back to the couch cushion and he moans loudly. You love the sounds he makes when you are blowing him and now you get to see him from another view. “You want to have a little competition, Dara?” You coo. “See who can get the guy to the brink of cumming the fastest?”

She pulls off of Frankie’s cock, a smirk on her lips as she looks over at you. “You’re on, baby. Let’s blow their minds.” She grins and you peck Santi’s lips as you slide down his body until you are working his pants open. Dara pumps Frankie in her hand and his eyes watch you as you take Pope’s cock out. Jesus, he feels his cock twitch in Dara’s fingers as your eyes meet his.

“Fuck, you weren’t lying when you said he has a beautiful cock.” You hum, pulling the foreskin back and looking at the bead of precum that has built up at the tip. “I can’t wait to hear him moan.”

Santi watches you as you take the head of his cock into your mouth, “mierda.” He curses and looks over at Dara who has taken Frankie back into her mouth with a moan. The men’s eyes flick between their partner and the woman sucking their cock. Groaning as Santi caresses your head and Dara chokes as she tries to take Frankie deeper.

You know Dara knows how to give head so you put everything you’ve got into sucking Santiago’s cock. Wrapping your fingers around the base and pumping while you work him deeper, making sure that you make him wet and keep your palette soft.

“Fuckkkk.” Santi pants as you take him deeper and Jesus, your mouth feels so good. He hisses and Frankie nods, “damn good. So fucking good.” He pants as his hand comes up to grip the back of the sofa, trying to keep himself from thrusting up into Dara’s mouth.

You moan around Santiago’s cock, enjoying the way he throbs and pulses in your mouth when you swallow around him. Reaching down and gently cradling his balls when you let go of his shaft and completely engulf him in your mouth until your nose is pressed against the short hairs at the base of his cock.

“Holllly fuckin’ shitttt.” Pope hisses, his fingers curling in the edge of the sofa cushion and his toes curl as you take him deep. “Fuckkkk.” He exhales shakily, eyes rolling into the back of his head as you blow his mind.

Dara chuckles around Frankie’s cock, knowing how good you are, and she ups her game, bobbing her head a little faster so Frankie hisses at the pace. "Holy shit."

You have to let up, needing to watch Frankie’s eyes roll back in pleasure. You hum around Pope’s cock and reach for his hand, pulling it to the back of your head. Encouraging him to thrust up into your mouth or push your head down. Wanting him to completely lose control.

Pope groans, keeping you still as he thrusts up into you, his cock twitching as he pushes down your throat. Fuck, no wonder Frankie looks dazed whenever he comes back from his lunch break. “She’s good, hermano?” He asks and Pope nods, panting slightly.

You don’t know if Pope plans on cumming down your throat but you don’t let up. Bobbing your head and swallowing around him, keeping the suction tight around his cock as he throbs on your tongue.

He doesn’t want to cum down your throat. He lets out a strangled choke and grabs the back of your neck, dragging you off of his cock and he watches you stay connected to his length with a line of spit. “Holy fuck.” He gasps, trying to calm himself down and he looks over at Dara who is taking Frankie down her throat.

“One day, you need to cum down my throat.” You gasp as you try to catch your breath, grinning up at him before you look over where Dara is still sucking Frankie’s cock. “Fuck they look so sexy, don’t they?” You moan, sinking a hand between your thighs and inside your panties. “I don’t know which one is sexier right now. And I’ve fucked them both.”

Frankie pants, turned on by your statement. He knows your history with Dara, you’ve talked about your sex life and Frankie must admit that he’s jerked off thinking about you and Dara messing around. He hisses when Dara pulls off of his cock, knowing he won’t want to cum, and Pope moves fast to drag you up his body. “Whose cock do you want to sit on?” He asks you with a smirk.

“Weelllllll, I think I want to sit on your cock, baby.” You lean in and press your lips to Santi’s. “I want to hear Dara squeal Frankie’s name while I moan yours.” You are dripping at the idea and reach over to grab your friend’s face and pull her close for another kiss. “Do you want to lick your boyfriend’s cum out of my pussy, baby?” You ask her breathlessly.

She nods, a whimper escaping her lips and she grabs her shirt to pull it over her head. You follow suit with your dress, leaving you both in panties that are soon shoved onto the floor. You straddle Pope, caressing his chest through his t-shirt, feeling his heart thumping in his chest. “Goddamn. You’re gorgeous. Fish is a lucky fucker.” He compliments you, his hands finding your ass to squeeze your cheeks until he slaps them.

“You’re lucky too, hermano.” Frankie groans, stroking his hands up and down Dara’s back before cupping her tits. “Your girlfriend is fucking breathtaking. Too good for your ugly ass.” He jokes, leaning in and biting her shoulder.

Dara whimpers and reaches down to grip Frankie’s cock. You know she has an IUD and is clean. She knows you are the same. She trusts everyone here and she’s excited to have a good time. She’s dripping wet so notching Frankie at her entrance isn’t hard work. He slips into her as she sinks down onto him with a low moan.

Both you and Santi watch, eyes blown with lust as your boyfriend and his girlfriend start to fuck. “Fuck,” you pant as you look back at Pope. “I need you inside me.” You beg, reaching down and gripping his cock. “Will you fuck me, Pope?”

Santi nods, his hands sliding down your back until he’s squeezing your ass again. “Take what you want, bebita.” He orders and you shuffle closer, swiping his cock through your folds a couple of times before you start to sink down onto him.

Frankie groans as he watches you take his friend’s cock. The way your jaw drops and he twitches inside of Dara. “Beautiful, aren’t they?” She murmurs to him, her eyes watching her boyfriend and her best friend.

“Fucking amazing.” Frankie groans, unable to believe this is happening. “You are so tight, hermosa.” He praises, rocking his hips up and slapping her thigh gently. “Never thought I would get to do this.” He huffs, groaning again when she squeezes him hard enough to make him twitch.

You watch Frankie and Dara, clenching around Pope’s cock hard enough that he hisses. “You like watching them, baby? You like watching them fuck each other?” He coos into your ear, biting down on your earlobe. “You’re so fucking wet around me. Always wondered what you’d be like. Frankie said he’d give me a chance with you.”

You moan softly, wishing you had known about those conversations before now. “He has.” You hum, clenching down around him. “How do you like being inside your best friend’s girl?”

“Fucking love it.” Santi groans, smacking your ass with both hands. He hisses your name and rocks you a little faster on top of him. “You enjoying it?” He asks you, leaning in to nip your jaw.

“Yesssssss.” You whimper, closing your eyes and tangling your fingers into Santiago’s hair while you start to bounce on his cock. “Always wondered what it would be like to fuck you. Imagined you and Frankie both railing me. Now I want that and to see you both rail Dara.”

Santi groans at the same time as Frankie, imagining that dirty thought. They have shared women before during time stateside but he loves the idea of sharing you with his friend and his girlfriend more often, watching you all like his own private porno. “Goddamn.” Frankie hisses, cupping Dara’s tits and pinching her nipples to make her gasp.

You giggle quietly and look over at your boyfriend. “You like that idea, baby? Fucking me and Dara with Santi? Being complete sluts for the two of you? I know you would want to have Dara sit on your cock while I sit on your face.”

Frankie groans, cock twitching inside of Dara, “and Pope can fuck her ass.” He smirks, knowing his friend has a big thing for anal.

Dara chuckles, “double? Fuck yes.” She groans, “then I can play with that gorgeous pair of tits and kiss your girl. Keep her satisfied while you suck on her clit like I used to.” Dara smirks until her jaw drops when Frankie thrusts up into her.

“Fuuuuuuck.” Santiago hisses and his hands tighten on your hips. “You never told me that.” He huffs. “I’d have had you telling me all about it while I was making you scream.” He has had quite a few ideas of fucking you and Dara, but to know that you used to eat each other out? It’s sexy as fuck. “I’ll want to see that while I recover enough to fuck her.”

“We can show our boys how to eat pussy, can’t we baby?” Dara winks at you and moans when Frankie thrusts up into her again. “Oh do that again.” She begs, knowing he has found the right angle and Frankie obliges her, keeping her still while he fucks up into her like it’s the last thing he will do.

“He’s so good, isn’t he?” That’s not to say Santi isn’t a good lover and he steals your attention back to him with the next thrust. Making you moan and turn back to crush your lips to his while you start to ride him again in earnest.

Dara watches you kiss Santi and it sends her over the edge, she cries out against Frankie’s shoulder as he thrusts up into her with vigor, grunts escaping his lips as he jackhammers up into her until she is squealing. Shaking against your boyfriend as she cums, soaking him and her nails digging into his shoulders.

Santiago actually stops thrusting into you, although his cock is pulsing harshly, twitching inside you as he watches his girlfriend cum all over Frankie. “Jesus Christ.” He hisses, so turned on by the sight he almost cums himself. “Now it’s your turn.” He promises, kissing you passionately and starting to move when Dara collapses against Frankie’s chest.

Frankie stops thrusting once Dara is worked through her orgasm, wanting to watch you cum on Santi’s cock. He doesn’t want to cum too soon so he strokes Dara’s back as they both watch Santi start to thrust up into you. “That’s it, Bonita. Want you to cum for me.” Santi coos, his hands squeezing your ass to help rock you on top of him.

Your boyfriend encouraging to cum throws you over the edge. Tossing your head back, you cry out in pleasure. “Santi!” Your walls clamp down around his cock and you soak him as your body shakes.

He groans as you clamp down on him, squeezing him tight. 

“Holy shit, Fish. Like a goddamn vice.” Pope hisses and works you through it by rocking you on top of him. His cock is throbbing inside of you. “Wanna - don’t wanna cum yet.” He admits and Frankie nods. 

“Get on your hands and knees. Both of you.” Frankie orders, smacking Dara’s ass.

It takes a moment for you to move, but when you are on your hands and knees by Dara, you lean in and kiss your friend. “Fuck.” You giggle against her lips. “Isn’t this the fucking dream?” You ask breathlessly, looking over your shoulder at the two men and smirking. “They are both so fucking hot and want to fuck us.”

Dara smirks back, “a girl’s fucking dream, baby. Remember when we used to talk about something like this happening?” She asks and you nod, leaning in to kiss her again, sliding your tongue against yours. The two men groan, slowly jerking their cocks before they shuffle forward, notching themselves at the dripping wet cunts and pushing back in.

You don’t know exactly who is inside you for a moment while you are kissing Dara. Eyes closed and trying to guess because your cunt is already a little abused from the fucking. Until his hands grip your hips and he drills forward hard enough to make you gasp into your friend’s mouth. “Frankie!”

Your boyfriend chuckles as you gasp out his name and he slaps your ass. "Want you to cum for me, hermosa." He demands, knowing he can pull you apart easily. He hisses when you teasingly clench around him. 

"That's it baby." Pope groans when Dara grinds back onto him and he thrusts into her, making her moan into your mouth before she sucks on your tongue.

Dara nods, knowing it won't take much. She hisses as she rocks back onto Pope, his fingers rubbing her clit, but when you lean in to kiss her, your fingers pinching your nipple, she's sent over the edge. "Fuck!" She squeals into your mouth as she cums, clamping down on Santi's cock.

Both men groan at the sight of the two of you locked into a kiss when Dara cums. Santiago grips her hips tights to continue fucking her and Frankie moans as his own pace quickens. You know they are loving the sight and you swallow her sounds as she comes apart.

Frankie wants you to follow, his hand squeezing your tit as he rocks into you. “Fuck baby. Want you to cum for me.” He demands, pinching your nipple as Dara pants against your chin.

His cock is shredding against something wonderful inside you and you know you won't last long. You never do when he's hammering into you like it's the last thing he will do. Your body starting to stiffen with each thrust until you let out a loud cry, unable to stop yourself from tumbling over the edge and drawing out your pleasure.

“Fuckkkk.” Frankie groans when you squeeze his cock like a goddamn vice. “That’s it, hermosa. Jesús Christ.” He hisses, trying to hold off from filling you up. He pants your name and caresses your stomach, enjoying the way you soak him.

Dara groans and pushes back against Pope's cock. "Need you to cum, baby." She begs softly. "Both of you. Want to see cum dripping out of both of our cunts."

Pope grunts, jaw clenched as he pounds into your best friend, his nostrils flared as he seeks his orgasm.

Frankie groans, smacking your ass when you clench him, egging him on. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He hisses, pushing deep as he fills your walls with his hot seed in one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had.

“Fraannnnnnnkie.” You whine his name, rolling your eyes back in pleasure as he paints your walls with his cum, hearing Pope hiss out Dara’s name beside you as he is the last one to cum, his hips stuttering and his entire body jerking in pleasure as he fills her. “Oh god.” You pant, collapsing down onto your cheek and look over your friend and her boyfriend as he slumps over her back and kisses along her spine. “That was amazing.” 

Frankie leans over you to kiss you, his tongue sliding against yours and you kiss him back as hungrily. Dara chuckles breathlessly, “now I wanna taste your cum from her pussy.” Dara smirks at you, “wanna sit on my face like we used to?” She asks, biting her lip.

“Fuck yes.” You moan, clenching around Frankie and the thought of her tongue against your cunt. Frankie is amazing at eating your pussy, but Dara was just as good, if not slightly better. “I want to taste Pope’s cum too.”

The two men shuffle from behind you, pulling out slowly, and move to sit on the other side of the sofa, eyes eager. Dara shifts to lay down and she smirks at you, tapping her cheek and you shift to straddle her face, stretching your body over hers so you can push her legs apart, finding her creamy cunt. Dara doesn’t hesitate to lean in, sliding her tongue through your folds with a groan.

It takes a good bit of tilting her hips, but your own tongue quickly follows suit while both men groan around you. Watching as you two sample their cum from their girlfriend’s cunt with an eagerness that borders on feral. You love the saltiness of Santiago mixed with the sweet tang of Dara, licking the mixture from her swollen folds and holding her legs apart when your tongue swipes over her sensitive clit. 

“Fuck me.” Frankie murmurs, watching you both writhe and lick and suck. It’s primal and his spent cock rests against his thigh but his stomach twists with arousal at the erotic display.

“Mierda.” Pope murmurs, watching just as intensely.

You love the fact that they are watching, but this is honestly for you and Dara. They have cum and it will be a little while before they can fuck again. You clench around nothing when you hear Frankie groan, and suck a little harder on your friend’s clit. 

Dara squeezes your ass, loving the way you rock back onto her tongue. Her hips tilted so you can lick deeper into her pussy. It’s intoxicating and everyone is feeling the intensity of this moment. “That’s it baby. Lick her clit. She likes that.” Frankie coaches you, seeing Dara’s reactions.

You hum, grinning into her folds as you obey Frankie. It’s no hardship, especially since that’s exactly what she likes. You suck her clit into your mouth and give it a series of kitten licks that makes her moan into your cunt.

Dara’s tongue gets faster, anxious to make you cum like you used to. She laps at you, sucking on your clit and swirling her tongue around it while the boys continue to watch with rapture. “Look so good, bebita. Wish I could take a a fucking photo.” Pope groans, watching with dark eyes.

She pulls her lips away from your clit for a moment, making you whine. “Do it.” She moans before she dives back into your cunt. You moan your own agreement and nod. You trust the boys not to share that, and you would love to see how sexy this looks from their perspective.

Pope scrambles to find his pants on the floor, getting his phone and he looks over at Frankie who nods enthusiastically. “Do it, hermano.” He insists and Pope smirks as he takes a photo of you and Dara. “So fucking hot.” He groans softly, taking a couple more.

You whimper when Dara sucks on your clit again, so close to cumming as you rock your hips back. Pushing down onto her tongue. Your hand slides up and you push two fingers inside her, knowing how much she loves to cum around something.

“Fuck.” She cries out against your folds, her lips slick with cum and your arousal, and the boys watch in awe as her thighs start to shake around your head. “Cum for her baby.” Santo orders, his cock twitching in interest.

It only takes another few moments of sucking on her clit and pumping your fingers into her cunt before she is crying out. Her walls clenching down around your fingers and soaking them with her cum.

The boys hiss, watching Dara cum, and Frankie leans forward on his elbows, planting them on his knees as he watches Dara ride her orgasm on your fingers. “Your turn, hermosa.” Frankie rasps and Dara nods, her tongue pushing back inside of you, her chin against your clit as she tries to push you over the edge.

You whine, eyes fluttering closed and your mouth drops open when she flicks her tongue inside you, sending you over the edge. Your entire body bucks and you squeal in pleasure as the waves of bliss crash over you, making you gasp out as you grind back onto her face.

The guys groan, their cocks half hard at the sight in front of them. Pope smirks, biting his lip as he watches you cum. “Beautiful. Fucking beautiful.” He coos to both women. 

“Goddamn.” Frankie murmurs, watching Dara work you through it before she shifts to pull her mouth back.

You sit up and shift off of her, smirking at Dara and pulling her in for one last kiss before looking at the boys. “Happy Valentine’s Day, boys.” You hum playfully, making Dara giggle as she clings to you and it might be the best Valentine’s Day that you’ve ever had. Definitely one to repeat.

[pedropascalsx]

The Fall Out; The Invitation.

Frankie Morales x F!Reader. 

Summary: You attend an audition for a local band, and all seemingly goes well until it doesn’t.

Warnings: P in V sex, Creampie, Swearing, Some angst, Arguing, Asshole Frankie and Drummer!Benny Miller.

Word Count: 2K.

Chapters: 1 of 6.

A/N: I don’t know what I am doing. I am bad at this. This is mostly flashbacks and throughout the series I will be jumping back and forth. The next chapter will heavily focus on the breakdown of the band/relationships.

[FLASHBACK: TEN YEARS EARLIER].

It was fucking intoxicating, it was four months of unspoken tension and frustrations being hashed out in the most bruising and salacious way. 

Every thrust was fuelled by a different desire, a desire to make you scream his name, a desire to make you his and a desire to stop your smart mouth from spilling anything but moans of pleasure and desperate whimpers of his name. 

His grip was bruising from the very second the tension snapped, he spun you around and pulled down your panties without stopping for breath. He made a snarky comment about how fucking desperate you were for him and the way your thighs were glistening with your wetness meant that for once you couldn’t shut him up with a snide remark of your own. 

Instead you just choked back a moan, ignoring the sharp sting of pain you felt as you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip at a futile attempt to hide the overwhelming feeling of relief that it was finally happening.

He sunk himself into you in one fluid movement and you swore you could see stars. Everything around you disappeared and for a moment you were somewhere else, you weren't in a filthy dressing room at the back of some shady venue that hadn’t seen a vacuum in god knows how long.

And then he spoke. 

“You think I can’t see what you’re doing,” he scolded before ceasing his movements, “Stop biting your lip. I wanna hear how well you take my cock. I can already feel it, so what’s the point in trying to pretend that you’re not fucking gagging for it?” 

The groan that was milliseconds from spilling over your lips was replaced by a moan that you had no chance of suppressing, his cock having speared into that spot inside of you as your lips had parted. 

And from that moment on, you were putty in his hands. All the need to defy him had evaporated and the only thing that you could feel was a stronger need to be consumed by him, to feel the heat of him enveloping you as he relentlessly fucked into you. 

You gave him everything he wanted, you came with a gasp of his name and you let him spill every drop of spend inside of you as he murmured some almost incoherent speech about how you were his and he was going to claim you in every single way.

It was always going to end in tears.

[THE BEGINNING]

“Can I add this to your notice board?” A voice boomed out from across the cafe, as you served a customer their overpriced coffee. 

“Sure,” you replied with a friendly shrug, “Spare pins are placed in the bottom left corner of the board.” 

“Thanks, babe,” the voice called back and before you could get a real glance at him, he was out the door and on his way to cover every spare post or board with copies of the same flyer.

The rest of the day had been so busy you didn’t even think of it again until you were heading out, the hastily made flyer grabbing your attention as you slung your backpack across your shoulder.

You pulled it off the board and studied it for a few moments before shoving it in your backpack, it has been a while since you’d even considered performing in front of people, work and bills getting in the way of the dream you’d had since you were a child, but something about this was calling out to you. 

[THE DAY OF THE AUDITION]

Work was as busy as ever, you had been starting work at four am rather than six because the festive period had seen more visitors popping in before or after doing their Christmas shopping. 

And that had seen the pastries, cakes, tarts and cookies you made for the business selling out quicker than you were used to. 

Work was a helpful distraction, the amount of things you had to freshly bake and prepare meant you didn’t have time to fret or sike yourself out over the audition.

And before you knew it the café was open and filled with hungry and thirsty customers; and your co-worker Callie was bouncing behind the counter to relieve you of your duties. 

“Are you ready for the big audition for the big gig?” she asked with a signature wink, “You’re gonna smash it.” 

“Ooh, the big gig?” you said with a giggle, “Is that what we are calling me potentially hanging out in someone’s garage a couple of times a week?”

“Sounds like superstardom to me,” Callie shot back as she tied her apron around her waist, “Good luck, break a leg or whatever!”

“Yeah, yeah! Thank you babe.”

“Don’t forget to text me how it goes,” she called back as you politely weaved your way past the waiting customers. 

The line of people outside the venue made your nerves tingle, you weren't sure what to expect or just how many people would be interesting but it certainly wasn’t this. There must have been 25 people ahead of you, and that was just waiting outside. 

Instinctively your fingers intertwined with the fingers on your other hand, as you eagerly waited your turn, occasionally fighting the urge to abandon ship and wait for another opportunity to come around.

But the snotty girl in front of you said something to someone else in the queue that made you stand your ground, the anticipation and intrigue outweighing the anxiety and doubt.

She was eavesdropping the conversation in front of her and the sharp scoff she exhaled in judgement immediately caught your attention, “Didn’t you hear? They asked the original lead singer to leave. This is a big fucking deal, they were offered an opening slot that would have been huge for them and he pissed someone off so badly that they withdrew the offer.” 

“Who were they going to open for?” a voice that sounded alarmingly like your own croaked out and the mean girl spun around with a raised eyebrow before looking you up and down and scoffing again. 

“Green Day.”

‘Shit.’ You murmured, and she turned back around before making some unintelligible comment under her breath that made you roll your eyes.

After three agonising hours, it was almost your turn. The pink haired mean girl from the line came crashing out of the room with a smug look splashed across her face and just as you’d made the decision to go home, the door opened again and the same guy from the café was inviting you.

“Hey!” he said with a huge smile, “From the café on main right?” 

“Yeah,” you replied with a shy smile, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Come meet the guys,” he said as he ushered you in the room, “I’m Benny by the way. Drums!” 

“Oh, yeah, it figures you’re a drummer,” you reply with a laugh before introducing yourself. 

“Why’s that?” Benny says as he gestures to the microphone before climbing back on stage and calling out, “Because the drummers are always the most handsome guy in the band?”

“Something like that,” you roll your eyes and shrug and simply reply, “Your arms.” 

He laughs before telling the guys your name and telling them where you work and then he introduces them all.

“Okay, so we got Pope over there on bass, my brother Will is on keyboard, I’m obviously on drums and this is Frankie our guitarist.”

As he introduced each guy they waved and smiled from behind their instruments, all until Frankie. Who barely glanced up at you. Too busy fiddling with his instrument to give you the time of day, boredom and frustration clearly painted across his face. 

His incredibly handsome face. You hated how obvious it must have been that you did a double take when you looked at him, your breath hitching as you took him in. You couldn’t ignore his strong nose and jaw and his endearing scruffy patchy beard. He was gorgeous. But he seemed so utterly disinterested that he immediately struck a nerve. 

“So what are you going to sing?” Pope called out from the stage, “You want us to play something or do you have a backing track?”

“Shit,” you hissed, “No I didn’t bring one. I just figured I’d sing it without… is that ok?”

“All good, babe,” Benny yelled back with a reassuring smile, “Whenever you’re ready.” 

Run by Snow Patrol had been the song you ultimately settled on singing for the audition, it had been a firm favourite for years and was always something you felt comfortable performing.

“Holy shit,” Benny spluttered as you finished the song, “Café girl has got some pipes.” 

“That she does,” Will replied with an approving nod.

And before you had a chance to thank them a gravelly voice flooded the room, “She’s not exactly what we’re looking for,” he said as his fingers still fiddled with his guitar, “I mean, yeah, nice voice, but come on.”

“And what exactly are you looking for?” you blurted back, “Another arrogant asshole that’ll blow any more chances that may come your way.”

He sneered at you, before standing up and giving you an obvious once over, “Yeah, she’s…uh, real nice. Clearly she would make a great addition to the band” he spat out to his band mates every word dripping with sarcasm before slipping through a door off the stage.

You couldn’t make sense of how quickly he had gotten under your skin, and immediately you were trying to work out if you wanted to slap or kiss him. Slap him. Definitely slap him… Maybe. 

“Is that good for you?” the voice called out from the stage as you tried to regain some focus.

“What?” you stammered, “Uh, sorry, I didn’t catch what you said?”

Will laughed, “He has that effect on people. Could you leave your number on the sheet over there and we will let you know in a few days.” 

You nodded politely before giving the band an unconvincing smile, before stumbling over and scribbling down your name and number on the sheet. 

‘Well, I definitely won’t be hearing from them.’ you thought to yourself as you slowly walked home, replaying it all back over and over until you felt physically sick.

You sipped the hot chocolate in your mug as some absolutely awful but equally captivating hallmark movie played out on your TV, each scene as predictable as the next making you roll your eyes but somehow still being so alluring that you audibly tutted when your phone started ringing and disturbing it.

UNKNOWN NUMBER.

“Hello,” you sighed into your cell phone, “If this is a spam just do me a favour and hang up for me.” 

“Depends on what you’d refer to as spam, Café girl,” the voice boomed back into your eye with a laugh, “Not disturbing anything important I hope.” 

“Benny?” you asked with an obvious tone of surprise, “I didn’t expect to actually hear from you.” 

“Can hardly offer you the position if I don’t contact you, babe,” he says and you can picture the cocky grin on his face, “What are you doing Tuesday night?” 

Joining a local band with a guitarist that you’ve already had a spat with? ‘What could possibly go wrong?’ you thought to yourself before answering.

“Sounds like you’re about to tell me.”

[PRESENT DAY; TEN YEARS LATER]

The chill in the air made you grip the mug of hot chocolate in your hand a little tighter, you sat comfortably on the balcony off your bedroom and looked out over the lake whilst enjoying the same silence you had for years.

The rude unexpected ringing of your phone making you wince slightly as you glanced down at the screen.

UNKNOWN NUMBER.

Usually you’d just let it ring out, maybe check the voicemail they’d potentially leave a few hours later if you felt like it, but a feeling you hadn’t felt for many years started to bubble up in your stomach, and something was calling out for you to answer.

“Hello,” you quietly murmured into the phone.

“Hello, babe,” a familiar voice boomed back at you, “It’s been a while. What are you doing next month?” 

[ohforficsake]

Down, Boy

A Margay Universe Drabble

series masterlist / main masterlist

Summary: The boys end up at a dive bar on Frankie's birthday. Snipers are good at pool. Frankie's not gonna be able to wait until they make it home. Can be read as a standalone.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC Audrey 'Moose' Goddard

Word Count: ~ 1.6K words

Rating: Explicit 18+ / dirty talk, momentary dry humping, jerking off in a dive bar bathroom, mention of oral sex (f receiving), bit of a come fetish (it's these two, they're just like this) / language / drunk!Frankie is the sweetest, filthiest menace with a massive competency kink / Minors DNI

A/N: A little drabble that came up a few months ago but didn't quite fit with the main Margay storyline. Just something fun to tie you over after putting you all through it with Chapter 9.

Divider by @cafekitsune!

Frankie is—

—a bit drunk tonight.

But it’s his birthday.

And he’s always been a happy drunk. 

There’s no falling on the floor. No getting up in other patrons’ faces. Just cheeks ruddy and round from freely-given mirth. 

He’s harmless as a puppy and just as excitable. 

Whooping with cheers whenever anyone sinks a pool ball into a pocket, whether they’re on his team or not.

_____

He had made the trip out to northern California for the occasion, wanting only to spend his day with his daughter.  

But the boys catch wind of his plan and throw in for an Airbnb on the coast for the occasion.

And in the process of planning, Santi and Benny cook up a four-beer deep idea over an empty pizza box to arrange an extra gift.

Aud, what are your thoughts on Fort Bragg? Santi fires off on a text thread between the three of them.

I’m glad that they’re changing that name, guy was a cunt.

Sorry no, California. Benny clarifies. But also, agreed.

Is that not named after the same guy?

Santi sends the house’s address at the same time Benny sends, it is yeah.

Catfish wants to spend his birthday out there with his kid and we couldn’t let him celebrate alone. Pope attempts to steer.

Wondering if you might want to tag along? Last week of June. 

Send me a venmo request for my part of the booking.

_____

Something warm blooms in Audrey’s chest at the sight of Frankie with his friends, quietly strategizing over forest green pool table felt.

He throws his arm around Benny’s neck and thumps Santiago on the back when they win this round, uncaring that he and Will have lost the last three.

“Can you please play this one, this score is embarrassing,” Will leans over on his bar stool with arms crossed against his chest, voice raised just enough so Audrey can hear him over Garth Brooks being played at a decibel below ungodly volume.

“Already told you, if I play, it’s over in one turn,” she takes a swig of beer, “that’s no fun for anyone.”

“Losing isn’t fun either though.”

She studies Will in the haze of neon-red tinged smoke. Audrey’s only known him for three hours, but she likes him already. Enough to grant him this favor.

“Fine.” 

She slips off her bar stool and shimmies her jeans higher up on her hips before shrugging the leather jacket off of her shoulders.

“You playin’, Moose?” Santiago calls with a grin.

“One round,” she holds up a finger, “save these boys some shame,” she finishes as Will hands her a cue. The minute she lifts it off the ground she murmurs “not that one,” and Will swaps her out. 

“There’s no way she’s that good,” Benny quips to Pope as he racks up the balls.

“I—do not have as much confidence as you on that,” Santiago carefully lifts the triangle and slots it back under the table. “You should probably know better, Benjamin.”

“You boys are fucked,” Frankie loops his arms around both of their shoulders as Audrey chalks her cue.

She places the cue ball towards one rail behind the second set of diamonds and glances behind her, gauging the space before leaning down to eye level, bouncing and spinning the cue in her hand to get a feel for its balance before she takes her first shot.

Audrey sinks two balls on the break. 

She quickly assesses the table when they come to a stop. “Stripes, do I need to call the pocket?”

“No need to be a show-off,” Pope quips. 

“Fair enough,” she slips around the far side of the table and sinks the 9-ball in a corner. It lines the cue ball up perfectly and she drops 14 in a center pocket. 

One lap around the table and a glance at the boys to be sure she has clearance before Audrey knocks the cue ball just off its center point, gliding it across felt where it transfers its spin to 15, sending it swirling down the rail into a corner pocket. She slips around to the opposite side of the table, banking the cue ball off the opposite rail and into 13, which slips neatly into the center pocket nearest her. 

“What went in on the break?” Benny calls.

“11 and 2,” Will answers where he’s calmly perched on a barstool against the wall.

She could miss now and he’d still be impressed.

She won’t.

The cue ball is dead center on the table and 10 is sitting a foot short of a corner. Audrey circles the table, chalking her cue as she analyzes angles. The best shot is from the end nearest the three boys but she’ll have to reach for it.

She stands in front of them and murmurs “sorry, boys,” before she hikes one knee up on the side rail and leans down, chest nearly grazing the table. 

Frankie covers Benny and Santi’s eyes from where his arms are still braced on their shoulders. 

His eyes, however, are locked on her ass.

They hear 10 drop in before brushing Frankie’s hands away.

Audrey bounces the cue ball off the edge of 12, popping it into the nearest pocket.

“Oh, that’s done, she’s got it,” Benny murmurs when the white ball comes to a stop directly in line with the corner pocket nearest Will, the 8 ball sitting perfectly in the middle of the shot.

Audrey sinks it and Frankie whoops, clapping both men on the back before rushing around the table to grab Audrey in a bear hug that lifts her up off her feet.

“FUCK yeah, baby!!!” He screams, taking her face in his hands and mashing his mouth against hers.

“Okay, down boy,” she quips with a smile.

“Well played, Moose,” Will holds out his hand for a shake.

“Alright, the rest is on y’all,” she hands the cue off to Will. “I gotta hit the restroom and then I’ll pick up another round.” She makes her way around the table, Benny and Santi congratulate her with claps on the back before she’s off down the hall.

“Hell of a woman you got there, Catfish,” Will chalks his cue.

Frankie answers with the quirk of a brow and a smirk that drips with filth.

One of the patrons recognizes Benny from fight night and it causes a stir. Turns out Will knows him from high school and everyone’s fascinated with what a small world it really is, attention distracted enough to allow Frankie to slip away.

_____

Audrey wrenches the door to the bathroom open and collides with Frankie’s chest.

“Jesus, Francisco.”

He backs her up with his body, kicking the bathroom door closed and latching it as his mouth crashes against hers, twisting his cap around backwards.

“You’re fuckin’ amazing, baby.” He smashes her against the wall with his broad form, craning low to kiss at what skin he can get to under her turtleneck before giving up and sucking on her earlobe. 

“Yeah, well, I guess” she pants as Frankie drops to his knees and grabs at her hips, grinding the bulge in his jeans against her shin as he mouths at her stomach through the fabric of her shirt, “don’t play pool with a sniper.” 

Frankie is fully hard as he ruts against her, pulling clumsily at the button and zipper of her jeans. He inhales against her mound and moans before quickly getting to his feet. 

Harmless as a puppy and just as excitable.

He’ll sniff crotches and hump legs too, apparently.

Audrey grabs his face between her hands in an effort to center him, dipping her tongue into his mouth before Frankie pulls back.

“Fuuuck baby,” he reaches down to squeeze his cock through his jeans, “I’m not gonna make it, baby, I can’t–”

“Frankie–”

“Shhh, gatita, please,” he clamps a hand over her mouth as his forehead thumps hard against hers, “fuck,” he huffs, “I’m gonna. Pull those pretty panties down for me, beautiful. Just a little bit.”

Audrey is positively dying to see where this goes. 

She slips her jeans and thong down her thighs, eyes locked on Frankie��s locked on black lace.

“Right there. That’s my pretty girl. Yeahh,” he shifts around to free himself from his jeans and she moans into his palm where he slides the hot, hard length of him against her center.

Frankie indulges for a moment, slipping his cock against the smooth wet of her lips.

“Shit,” he hisses before gripping himself in his fist, brown eyes searching green for permission.

And having it, he starts to pump his cock.

It takes him less than a minute before thick ropes of semen spurt into the gusset of her panties as he groans against the back of his hand where it’s still clamped over her mouth.

“Gatita?” He lets go on a ragged gasp once his hips have stilled and he’s worked himself through.

She puffs an acknowledging breath against his palm. 

“I’m gonna make it up to you, I swear,” he lets his hand drop but keeps his forehead pressed against hers. 

Frankie’s fingers move down to hook in the waistband of her lace thong before he slips it, warm and sticky and reeking of his spend back up into place.

“Keep that for me?” He slips his tongue in her mouth, fastening the button on her jeans and dragging the zipper closed. “I’m gonna come back for it.”

He presses a final, wet kiss to her lips, warm palm resting briefly on her cheek before he slips out of the door.

He leaves her frayed with want. Panting through burning lips as her head thumps back against the wall.

Sometimes she wonders if Frankie Morales is the filthiest motherfucker alive.

Two hours later when he cleans her cunt with his tongue—cap twisted round backwards on his head, wet panties stuffed into the pocket of his jeans—she realizes he probably is.

He probably is.

And he's hers.

Tagging a few lovely folks who are/might be interested: @tinytinymenace @theshensei @jeewrites @oliveksmoked @for-a-longlongtime

@toomanytookas @missladym1981 @harriedandharassed @76bookworm76 @spookyxsam

@soft-persephone @julesonrecord @legendary-pink-dot

[nerdieforpedro]

VIII - Have we put all the pieces together?

Only Parts of you Mr. Morales Series

This fic and my blog over all is 18+ MDNI

Frankie Morales x Belinda (plus size OFC)

Word Count: about 3.4k (Longer than all the other pieces 😑 Endings are rough.)

Summary: Frankie and Belinda have a conversation that truly is better in the morning. Things are moving and shaking while Belinda is stir-crazy. After things settle down, pieces are in place where they should be.

Warnings: angst, intoxication (mild), medical jargon, pregnancy and complications (Nerdie may have taken liberties with this - Mother & Baby was not my best class), birth control discussions, food mention & cooking, Benny and Frankie bear the brunt of the bad jokes, Pope and Carmen and the MVPs, we have more desserts and fluff

Notes: The finale for Frankie and Belinda. I’ve enjoyed writing their story. It had its’s fair bit of mess but at the core were two people who loved each other. I may do a follow up or two because they’re beginning a new chapter. Thank you so much for reading this far. 💕 Happy Frankie Friday everyone! 🥰

Main Masterlist/ Frankie “Catfish” Morales Masterlist/ Only Parts of you Mr. Morales Series

It’s not like Belinda hadn’t pictured herself in this position over the years. She just thought there would be a few steps in a different order. It’s supposed to be a happy moment where she gives Frankie the wonderful news, they celebrate because they’ve talked about it, agreed to it and were doing the whole trying thing. Frankie looks a bit drunk, mostly panicked and like she’s going to float away. His eyes are trained on her and his hands have his cap and his hair in their grips.

“Mi bizcochito (My little cake) please. Don’t say it. Just…I know.”

“You know? What do you know Frankie?” Her eyebrows are halfway up her forehead. She thought she was hiding it well. Of course he knows. He’s Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales. He still notices when she uses different oils in her hair or changes her fingernail polish. The superb attention to detail that made it impossible to hide how she felt about him for the longest, even when Belinda wanted to pretend like she didn’t or worse when they were trying whatever casual mess they had been doing before. He still knew and that’s why he’d pull away sometimes, though they still ended up coming back together eventually.

“Cariño (sweetheart), you don’t have to worry though. You’ve been changing your clothes. I’m not the same as I once was either. It’s a good thing though. Since we’ve been together, we’ve both become softer, taking care of each other.” He’s explaining, or trying to, that he thinks she is beautiful even if she puts on a few pounds. He has too, Frankie’s aware he has a bit more to grab in the middle.

Belinda covers her face. This is not the right time to have this conversation with him, he is either in denial or really thinks she’s concerned about weight gain, which she isn’t. She just went back to her comfy clothes that she could hide in while she waited for her doctor’s appointment. Which had been today. Standing up and embracing him, she was able to stifle her laugh and kiss his cheek. “You’re right Frankie, we have become softer together. Let’s get you some water, a shower and off to bed.”

Morales allows himself to be taken care of by his bizcochito. He needs to keep the act up until tomorrow morning. It will be Saturday and neither of them have work unless Frankie gets called in. After Belinda falls asleep, he turns off his phone. Might lead to a stern talking to on Monday, but he’d need to ask her what he’d been beside himself to really ask her. Morales is many things but not a fool. He’s staring at the ceiling with the woman he loves laying on his chest, the very same that’s likely carrying his child. ‘Maybe I should have wrapped it up but she said she enjoyed the feeling. I did too.’ He did have to remind Belinda occasionally to take her birth control meds and they did discuss an implant in her arm or an IUD but she was squeamish about anything being surgically put in or being classified as a procedure. Frankie did poke a bit of fun at her considering what she has in her most nights and she told him he was a bad man after slapping his arm.

Maybe he should have pushed harder for it or gotten the snip himself, but neither of them ever mentioned it. Frankie pictured himself with children at one point, early in his service. Before the real combat started before he saw the horrors, it was enough many times just to take care of himself. He couldn’t imagine caring for someone fully dependent on him. Not then. But now? Belinda wrapped an arm around his torso, nuzzling her face into his chest.

“Maybe it will be fine. Maybe I can do it. We’ll be raising the kid together after all. Doesn’t mean I’m not scared shitless. Fuck…” His eyes close and he drifts off to sleep curious how exactly to talk about it with her.

Despite the hangover, Morales is up first, peeling Belinda off of him. Bathroom then coffee. He’s always on coffee duty, so he decided to fix breakfast too. The excuse would be that it’s a Saturday, and she wanted to talk to him about something but he wasn’t aware enough to register anything. The aroma of the coffee calls Belinda. It smells delicious but her stomach turns, she felt like it was a little early for that. She’s at two months according to the doctor and there was a major caveat with that. She googled most of the evening yesterday but didn’t retain a thing. Slipping on a white and navy blue striped t-shirt dress, she made her way to the kitchen.

There stands Francisco, a messy mop of dark curls bouncing on the back of his neck, his gray t-shirt struggling to contain his biceps and shoulders. He was wearing tan cargo shorts that cupped the curve of his ass just right. He’s finishing up the eggs, the bacon is to the side, pancakes are keeping warm in a metal baking pan covered with foil. The table is set with orange juice and syrup already out. If she wasn’t apprehensive about what conversation they were going to have, she’d tell him to cover all the food and head back to the bedroom. This is by far one of the sexiest and sweetest things he does for her: letting her not worry about anything. She’s waiting for his usual line of “breakfast is served mi amor (my love).” That’s not what he turns and says.

Frankie turns to see Belinda watching him with a soft smile. She looks a little tired still, but otherwise fine. He’s happy to cook on days where they stay in and spend time together. It looks like there will be more of these days with a small high chair at one of the sides of the table. It’s out before he can really think about what he said, what it means. “Buenos dias mamá oso (Good morning mama bear)! Breakfast is served!” He has a genuine smile on his face. He was dead serious. Belinda’s hands were on her hips. She knows I knew, welp Fish. Whatever happens, happens. Dammit.

“Good morning Francisco Miguel Valesquez Morales.” She has used his entire name. Frankie is concerned as she walks toward him, the smile gone from her face. “How long have you known? Tell me.”

Frankie sighs and places both palms on the counter behind him, leaning back. “The last few weeks. You’re wearing different clothes I haven’t seen you wear for a while and are a bit more round in the middle.”

“Why didn’t you say anything last night? Why go with that whole ‘we’re both softer’ thing?”

“I mean, I wasn’t wrong. We are both softer. Just for different reasons and not just physically. I’m not cooking breakfast for just any woman I know. Te amo Belinda (I love you Belinda).” Her hands pinch his cheeks while her lips peck his.

“You’d best not Frankie. Te amo mi amor.” She assist and dishing up the plates and the air across from each other, eating breakfast. During a pause, she decides to ask, “Did you know I went to the doctor yesterday?”

“No but are there any issues?” Frankie crosses his arms, there couldn’t be something wrong already right?

Belinda clears her throat and sets her elbows on the table, her chin is on top of her interlocked fingers. “Apparently, and I don’t believe I have any that run in my family, the reason I’m showing earlier than normal. Whatever normal looks like, is because we’re having twins.”

Morales is frozen. He doesn't remember there being any cases of twins that he knows of. His mouth moves but nothing comes out. It’s amazing but doesn’t that mean double everything?! Belinda wonders if the man’s stopped working. It was a shock to her too yesterday. She thought maybe there was a weird shadow or something on the ultrasound but the doctor and nurse pointed out two heartbeats and two babies. It was part of why she’d been sitting to tell Frankie. It was still processing for her too.

“So…but is that okay? For you cariño?” The pilot asked. Pregnancy can be difficult when you’re having one baby. Belinda is carrying two.

“It kinda has to be Fish. I can’t move either baby anywhere else.” She chuckled, understanding his concern. What was her pregnancy going to look like? Everyone’s always different.

“When’s your next appointment? I’m coming with you. I know you won’t remember everything.”

Belinda had fake outrage on her face, gasping and covered her mouth with her hands, “Is that so? How could you! I have my notes from my last appointment. Thank you! Not everything stuck though to be fair.” The smirk on her face as Frankie stood and walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I told them I can call next week after checking with you, plus I needed to actually tell you.”

“Well now I know. I’ll let my manager know and it will be fine.” He kisses her forehead, “I’ve got to show up with you to let them know who’s got some strong swimmers. I’m not called ‘Fish’ for nothing.” Belinda pinched his nose, then ruffled his hair.

“Such a horrible man. Who even says that Frankie?” They both laughed while they cleaned up breakfast. Her cheek rested in the middle of Frankie’s back as he washed the dishes. For just a moment before she dried and put them away.

Sunday afternoon at Will and Benny’s, everyone is gathered. All their close friends. Belinda and Frankie had done a video call with her parents who were shocked, ecstatic and wanted to know when they could fly down and visit. Frankie was all for it, Belinda said that she would need to set up the guest room, she didn’t want them coming quite yet. Her Frankie had moved in not too long ago.

Will wasn’t surprised and happy that they actually talked it out.

Benny had to be told not to pick Belinda up and squeeze her. Frankie gave him a death glare.

Pope and Carmen both squealed, gave hugs and started an argument that lead to an intense game of rock-paper-scissors to determine who would be the godparents. In a major upset, Will was knocked out early. Pope and Benny did five rounds before Benny danced away victorious. Was a rendition of the running man necessary? To Benjamin Miller it was.

The joy in sharing the news with everyone eased both of their anxieties for a time.

It was when Belinda was six months along and Frankie was at one of her follow up appointments with the OBGYN. They’d seen the PCP last week. Her blood pressure was high, but not concerning yet according to the MD so she opted to work from home. It helped at first but her blood pressure crept back up. Frankie made her a fluffy spot in their bed surrounding her with pillows, water and snacks. He told her to stay put. Don’t go anywhere except the bathroom and the bed. He’d call to check in on her as she did reports and such from her laptop.

This system worked until month eight. She hated it. She can’t move around, she’s stuck to this bed, concerned about how worried Frankie is about her. Belinda finished her reports early, she was banking all her time to use after her maternity leave. “I need to get out…it’s the same four walls. Just walking down the street should be okay right?” She was just going to walk out in her slides and a simple dress. It was warm but not hot thankfully. Belinda called Carmen to let her know where she was going, she thought about texting Frankie but she didn’t want him worrying anymore than he already was. “Just down the street. Just down the street.” Letting out a long breath, Belinda felt a few kicks as she made it to the end of the driveway. “I know, momma just wanted to move around. Let’s move around together and we can have a little secret from daddy. Until he’s eaten dinner. The truth is best on a full belly.” She chuckled while waddling down the street. Saying hello to a few neighbors in addition to feeling the wind around her body instead of just near a window was something she didn’t realize she missed.

Belinda ended up at the park at the end of the street and sat on a bench. She rested her feet and watched a few children play, curious when she’d be able to bring these two here to play.

Carmen stopped by with groceries l. She thought Belinda would be back by now but she wasn’t. It was an hour and a half since she’d called her to tell her she went for a walk. She called and texted her but she didn’t answer. “Ahh…Belinda. I swear…” She put the groceries away and Belinda returned her call. She’s sobbing and frightened.

“C-Carmen. There’s a bag next to my bed. Pick me up from the park, please. I think…my water broke. I just wanted a walk…to get out. It’s early right? Too early…What if I did something wrong? How will I explain to Frankie that I didn’t listen…?” She paused and it sounds like she’s moving.

“Belinda you’re not still walking are you? Honey don’t worry about any of that, there’s nothing to be done. Just get somewhere you can sit and wait for me. You’re still near the park right?” Carmen hurried to the bedroom and found a black duffel back at the foot of the bed. She grabbed it, made sure she had her purse and locked the front door. She tossed the back in the passenger seat, texted Pope to get Frankie to the hospital immediately and sped toward the park. “Linda you’re still on the line right?!”

“Yes. I found a bench. It hurts to sit. I’m standing and leaning over.” She feels a little woozy but stays on the line. Carmen hops out of the car and ushers her to the backseat laying her down. “I’m sorry. Does Frankie know? Is he coming? I should…” Belinda is dozing a bit, Carmen is yelling at her to stay awake. Within ten minutes, they’re at the hospital.

Frankie is checking gauges in one of the helicopters. Finally off probation, he’s back to flying. Santiago calls three times while he’s trying to focus. “What hermano (brother)? Where’s the fire?” His tone is peppered with a smile.

“Dammit Fish! Answer the first time! Carmen is taking Belinda to the hospital! Her water broke. I’m on my way to get you, Will and Benny will bring your truck over. Grab your shit and meet me out front!” Frankie hopped out of the helicopter, grabbed his bag from his text and told his manager that he was leaving. His twins are coming. Pope was indeed waiting outside. “Look man.” Hopping in his truck, the men took off toward the hospital. “Carmen said that Belinda had trouble staying awake, but it looks like they’re replacing some fluids she said.”

“She’s a month early! Is that bad for her? Is she going to be okay?” Frankie wants his children to be okay, but what is he going to do if she’s not okay, if Belinda isn’t okay. “I should have just told her to be on bed rest. Not even work from home. Pope, what am I gonna do if…”

“Shut up Frankie. Don’t you dare. She’s going to be fine. Your kids are going to be fine. You’re going to see them in the next few minutes and be there with her. Our kids are going to have play dates and I’m going to beat your ass for actually allowing Benny to be your kids’ godfather.”

“He won fair and square Pope. Your bionic ass couldn’t win.” The pilot laughed nervously, he appreciated him trying to calm him.

“My hair and ass are the only things that aren’t bionic, you jerk.” Pope’s smirk lingered on his face as they rounded the corner and pulled up at the ER doors. “I’m still kicking your ass once your girl and your kids are home safe. I’m parking the truck.”

Frankie nodded and ran to the front desk, asked where Belinda’s room and a staff member took him to her room. There was a flourish of noises, Morales couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. He knocked and opened the door.

He was too late.

In each arm, Belinda held a baby boy with dark curls, round cheeks and noses that had a slope to them. His bizcochito (little cake) had two pudíns (puddings). She looked exhausted and was covered in a sheen of sweat, but glowed under the fluorescent lights. He kissed each of his sons and then cupped Belinda’s face, kicking his shoes off and hopping in the hospital bed with her. The nurse warned that since she’s just given birth it’s best to be gentle with her. Frankie nodded. “Gracias mi amor (Thank you my love). You make me whole mi vida (my life). Can I give you and my sons my last name? I’m not going anywhere Belinda. You’re home to me.”

There’s no more anxiety or distress in his face. The lines on his face are from how wide Francisco Morales is smiling, even his eyes look like there might be glimmers in them. She wants to reach for his hair, his nose, run a thumb over his lips. Her sons busy her hands and arms. “I’ve given you two children Morales and heart. I’d better be getting your last name Francisco.” They both laughed, with Carmen hugging Santiago before Will and Benny walked in.

“There’s just so much love in this room. I have one question for you two, which kid is which? Am I the godfather to them both? Do I get to pick one?” Benny stands at the foot of the bed. All the adults in the room groaned and a pillow hit Benny in the face courtesy of Frankie.

Belinda and the babies remained in the hospital as did Frankie except to go home and get changes of clothes. Finally, after a week, they were able to go home. Their little village of friends had set up the cribs, bought pampers, bibs, onsies, toys, blankets, booties, and the newly engaged couple wasn’t sure what the rest was, but they would figure it out.

The night they came home with their sons, Frankie tested out each crib just in case, despite them being put together by Santiago and Will. They were fine. Eventually, both Rafael and Raúl were put down to sleep. Belinda was able to shower finally with Frankie’s help. Laying down in their bed, they watched their sons sleep.

“Everything’s finally fit together for us. It was pretty disjointed for a while there Belinda.”

“Yeah, we should have actually talked about it a lot sooner.”

“Before or after you asked me to move in while you were full?” She pinched Frankie’s nose.

“You’re lucky I’m not supposed to exert myself. Our timing is-“

“Impeccable. Given we’ve got dos pudíns velludos (two hairy puddings).” Frankie kisses her cheek and she tries to hold in her laughter, it makes her stomach and pelvis hurt.

“Do not call our sons hairy puddings. Also, all that hair is from both of us, though it looks like you spat them out.”

“I love them already so they have their nicknames like you do mi bizcochito. You’ll just have to live with it.”

“That’s all I’ve wanted Frankie it wasn’t quite in the order I thought but we’re in this together. I have all of you like you have all of me.”

A night like many to come where they dose off to sleep in each others’ arms and are awakened by one or both of their son’s crying. It’s alright because they work as a team to change, feed and burp them before reading various books. From Dr. Seuss to flight manuals they would impart pieces of themselves onto their children.

There were turns, trips, stumbles and misunderstandings but Frankie and Belinda proved that in spite of their differences and fears, the pieces could be put together to make them a family. Plus two.

VII - Eyes

Fans of the hairy puddings (Code name: R&R) 🍼🍼

@yorksgirl @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @guelyury

@bitchwitch1981 @katw474 @rosecentaur1916 @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @trulybetty

@maggiemayhemnj @schnarfer @rav3n-pascal22 @bishtrouille @alltheotps

@pedroshotwifey @readingiskeepingmegoing

[beefrobeefcal]

Come join me in sin!

We recommend the following here at Beefro's Bistro:

The Fox and The Viper by @theywhowriteandknowthings Oberyn Martell x OFC

Hazy Days by @theywhowriteandknowthings Din Djarin x F!Reader

Douchbag!Frankie by @gracieispunk Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

The Run by @magpiepills Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

SNAFU by @theywhowriteandknowthings Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

sing fever to the form by @thelightsandtheroses Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Breaking the Rules by @theywhowriteandknowthings DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Entergalactic by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Cookout by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Upper East Side by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

I’ll Know It When I See It by @bageldaddy Pornstar!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Desperation by @theywhowriteandknowthings Dave York x F!Reader

Whole by @theywhowriteandknowthings Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

Popular by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

Where Were You on Outbreak Day? by @theywhowriteandknowthings Joel Miller x F!Reader

The Pilot & His Girl by @avastrasposts Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Seven Minutes in Heaven by @tieronecrush Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

relief by @pedropascalsx Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Precious Possessions by @exquisiteserotonin Dave York x F!Reader

Creep by @theywhowriteandknowthings Joel Miller x F!Reader

Pause by @talaok Javier Pena x F!Reader

Night Walks Series by @toxicanonymity Joel Miller x F!Reader

Haunted by @theywhowriteandknowthings Joel Miller x F!Reader x Tommy Miller

Shore Leave by @theywhowriteandknowthings Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

Another Chubby Subby Joel Imagine by @neverwheremoonchild Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rendezvous in Reno by @theywhowriteandknowthings Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Got a recommend? Make you contribution in the THOT TANK

[avastrasposts]

Hi there, I'm glad you made it here and I hope you'll enjoy my writing!

All my writing is 18+ so make sure you are. I love talking about my fics (who doesn't?) so asks and DM's, comments and reblogs are always welcome.

Enjoy!

Master List

Pedro Pascal characters

A Baker's Dozen - Series Master List

(featuring pretty much all of the Pedro boys)

Francisco Morales (Triple Frontier)

Big Sky Country - Series Master List

Work in progress

The Pilot and his girl - Series Master List

TLoU/TF cross over - Completed. Long, full of fluff, angst and smut. Frankie x Reader)

Drabbles featuring Frankie

Swimming lessons with Catfish - A smutty drabble set in an alternative, no outbreak, version of the The Pilot and his Girl universe, Frankie x Reader

The Accident - Angsty fluffy one shot that will probably be given a part two down the line, Frankie x Reader

Frankie & Din - A funny, I hope, one-shot with Frankie & Din at the air fair

Frankie to the rescue - A one shot drabble about Frankie welcoming you home after a long day of travelling, Frankie x Reader

Six and a half minutes - Frankie's version (a smutty one shot where Frankie interrupts your holiday baking, Frankie x Reader)

Come in, Atled Air, come in - a short and fluffy one shot about Pilot!Frankie and AirController!FemReader.

Not an Easy Man to Find - my first m/m fic featuring Pope

General Marcus Acacius

Bona Dea - Series Master List

Marcus Acacius x Reader. A one shot that's developed in to it's own little series. 4 out of 5 chapters are published.

Pero Tovar (The Great Wall)

The Guard Dog - Groundskeeper!Pero x female reader written for Studioghibelli's writing challenge.

Rosemary & Lavender - Mercenary!Pero x female Reader one shot

Memories made, memories lost - Mercenary!Pero x female Reader one shot written for @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope challenge.

Javier Peña (Narcos)

Snowed In - Javier's version (a one night stand with Javier Peña as he's snowed in at a hotel. Javier x OFC)

Pickled Interruptions - Part of the Pickled Peña writing challenge @pickled-pena

Joel Miller (The Last of Us)

Gun Cleaning - Joel's version (a smutty one shot when Joel walks in on you cleaning the guns, Joel x Reader)

Marcus Pike (The Mentalist)

When was the last time you lived? - a short one shot for the Summer Lovin 24 challenge.

Karl Urban characters

Éomer (LotR)

The Tack Room (super fluffy but not complete)

Billy Butcher (The Boys)

The British Connection (slow burn with very little fluff, a chunk of smut and lots of plot)

Six and a half minutes (smut drabble)

Dear Reader (smut drabble in two parts)

Snowed in (smut drabble)

Gun cleaning (smut drabble)

Ellie just gets to have a lot of sex with Billy Butcher (4 part series, the title is pretty self-explanatory. No, it's not about TLoU Ellie... )

[beefros-sin-bin]

Welcome to •my fic recs• blog! Got a fic to rec? Send it to me!

Currently only Pedro Pascal Character fics.

[In order of their initial recommendation]

The Fox and The Viper by @theywhowriteandknowthings Oberyn Martell x OFC

Hazy Days by @theywhowriteandknowthings Din Djarin x F!Reader

Douchbag!Frankie by @gracieispunk Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

The Run by @magpiepills Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

SNAFU by @theywhowriteandknowthings Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

sing fever to the form by @thelightsandtheroses Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Breaking the Rules by @theywhowriteandknowthings DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Entergalactic by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Cookout by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Upper East Side by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

I’ll Know It When I See It by @bageldaddy Pornstar!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Desperation by @theywhowriteandknowthings Dave York x F!Reader

Whole by @theywhowriteandknowthings Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

Popular by @harryleatherfit Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

Where Were You on Outbreak Day? by @theywhowriteandknowthings Joel Miller x F!Reader

The Pilot & His Girl by @avastrasposts Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Seven Minutes in Heaven by @tieronecrush Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

relief by @pedropascalsx Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Precious Possessions by @exquisiteserotonin Dave York x F!Reader

Creep by @theywhowriteandknowthings Joel Miller x F!Reader

Pause by @talaok Javier Pena x F!Reader

Night Walks Series by @toxicanonymity Joel Miller x F!Reader

Haunted by @theywhowriteandknowthings Joel Miller x F!Reader x Tommy Miller

Shore Leave by @theywhowriteandknowthings Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x F!Reader

Another Chubby Subby Joel Imagine by @neverwheremoonchild Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rendezvous in Reno by @theywhowriteandknowthings Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

But Baby It's Art by @magpiepills Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Your Summer Dream by @swiftispunk Joel Miller x F!Reader

All Over You by @theywhowriteandknowthings Javier Pena x F!Reader

Blood Money by @theywhowriteandknowthings Dave York x Max Phillips x F!Reader

Odd Couple by @idolatrybarbie Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Hurts So Good by @theywhowriteandknowthings Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Taungsdays, Am I Right? by @theywhowriteandknowthings Din Djarin x F!Reader

It's Too Early For This... by @trulybetty Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

Pleasure Principle by @nerdieforpedro Dave York x F!Reader

VS by @strang3lov3 Joel Miller x F!Reader

Mystery Strain by @rebel-held Dieter Bravo & GN!Reader

One Day at a Time by @rebel-held Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

The Princess & the Duke by @theywhowriteandknowthings Dave York x F!Reader

Worth the Weight by @gwendibleywrites Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Slasher Joel by @toxicanonymity Joel Miller x F!Reader

Send in the Clown by @covetyou Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Catch Me If You Can by @theywhowriteandknowthings Din Djarin x F!Reader

Table for Two by @hellishjoel Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!Reader

[ohforficsakelibrary]

The Margay: Chapter 4

His Other Nickname

prev / series masterlist / main masterlist

Summary: Santiago recruits Frankie to contract for a covert agency that pairs them with danger in more ways than one. A series of one-shot snippets taking place during and around missions.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC

Word Count: 3.1K

Rating: Explicit 18+ /oral (f receiving because Frankie), unprotected piv, these two both have a bit of a come fetish / Minors DNI

A/N: Finally made some progress on this! My take on callsigns and nicknames and new lovers before they part.

“Okay, okay, where does “Catfish” come from? Is that a ‘slippery when wet’ situation?” Audrey smiles.

They’re each three rounds deep, Santiago having made the call three hours before the 24-hour clock ran on Davis’ offer. 

They're in this. The three of them. Together. 

Whatever this is. 

But that’s tomorrow’s problem while mirth flows as freely as the drinks do tonight.

“Ah,” Santi takes a sip from his beer, “his patchy-ass beard.”

Audrey leans back and considers Frankie for a moment before her face breaks.

“I see it.”

“Right?! Great ‘stache. Shit beard,” Santi reaches across the table to scratch at Frankie’s face “you got like three whiskers hangin’ on there, man.”

“Yeah alright alright,” Fish bats him away, “yours is worse.” Frankie leans in to Audrey, wrapping an arm around the back of her chair. “This guy used to go on these long fucking lectures when we first joined up about how ‘the sins of the flesh cloud the mind’ and ‘I’d never sleep with anyone on a mission, have to stay focused on the task at hand.’”

Audrey angles her eyes over to Santi, who has his hand over the bottom half of his face in an attempt to cover up the neat shade of red staining his cheeks.

“Turns out he was a virgin until like 27.”

“Hey, it was 26, man. I was just really focused…”

“On your career?” Audrey and Frankie both quip before erupting in laughter.

Frankie wipes the back of his hand over his eyes, scrubbing away tears of mirth, “the Pope doesn’t fuck, so. That’s where ‘Pope’ came from.” 

“Fuuuuck you, Fish. Alright little lady, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s your callsign?” 

“Is the cat thing not good enough?”

“Yeahhh we can’t exactly call you that. But come on, we’re in this shit together, what is it?”

“I don’t have one, Santi.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m really not.”

“What do you mean you don’t have one. You didn’t have callsigns at that fancy fuckin’ school of yours?”

“Nope.”

“Well, we’ll have to figure one out for you.”

“Feels like it should be more organic than that, no?”

“I thought it was this guy,” Frankie’s fingers leave the back of her chair to brush her left shoulder blade over her t-shirt.

Pope is once again irritated that there are parts of her he hasn’t seen. Because of his own idiocy.

“No, they’re just my favorite animal.”

“What is?”

“I think we should still use it,” Frankie continues, purposely leaving Pope in the dark.

Audrey catches on quick. “Just because I have a tattoo of one? Not really a great story. It’s not like you have a tattoo of a catfish.”

“A tattoo of what,” Santi is relentless.

“Actually,” Frankie ignores him and leans back hiking down the waistband of his jeans.

Sure enough, the green-tinged blur of a stick-and-poke catfish sits on his left hip bone. It’s faded and it’s terrible. But it is a catfish nonetheless.

“What, you didn’t notice that when you two were fucking?” There’s salt in Santiago’s tone.

The truth, quite frankly, is that she didn’t. You don’t, in the dark, when you’re that turned on and a man’s that well hung. 

She has an eye for details, but she’s only human.

Frankie smirks and decides to twist the knife.

“Think about how I would have seen the back of her shoulder, but she wouldn’t have seen my hip, Pope. Just think for a second.”

They can see the exact moment the image hits him. 

“You know what, fuck you both.”

“It’s a moose, Santi. I have a tattoo of a moose.”

“I’ve never seen a moose.”

“You never will,” Fish quips and Pope lands a kick to his shin. 

“Fuck you,” Pope spits, quickly adding, “did he tell you about his other nickname?”

“NO,” Frankie points a finger at Pope.

“Oh well now I have to know,” she straightens in her chair.

“You better fuckin’ not, Pope.”

“One of you needs to tell me right now.” 

“You wanna tell her, Big Dick Morales, or should I?”

Santi expects Audrey’s eyes to fly wide, mouth to drop open.

Instead, she smirks into her glass.

“I did notice that when we were fucking.”

Frankie flushes red now.

“But how, pray tell, did that start?” She rests an elbow on the table and props her head in her hand, angled in towards Frankie.

“Oh please don’t,” Fish pleads.

“Well, first it started as a joke, because dude can’t put on a pair of pants without making the rest of us look bad.”

Frankie catches how her eyes flit down to his lap and back up to hold his stare.

The look on his face is – apologetic.

“But back in the day, girls used to fall all over Frankie. He’s got those sad fuckin’ doe eyes, you know?” Pope gestures loosely at his own face. “Women just have to fix him.”

Audrey holds Fish’s gaze and brushes her fingers over her lips in an attempt to clear away a smile blooming there because she fell for them too.

“But like fifteen years ago he ran through this string of girls who just wouldn’t do it.”

She raises one brow.

“Like seven of them. In a row. Over the span of like a year and a half. They all balked. Never got more than a blowjob. All of them said he was too big.”

“Oh you poor thing…” Audrey teases, running a hand over Frankie’s thigh.

“I hate you both.”

“You don’t hate her, she’s your glass fuckin’ slipper,” Pope leans over the table and nods at Audrey, “you take the whole thing?”

“POPE, shut the fu…”

“I never leave a job unfinished, Santiago,” she says with an arched brow.

“Oh my god,” Fish scrubs his face with his hands. “I can’t be here right now.”

Audrey rests her hand on his thigh.

I can take it, Francisco.

“Debatable. You left me unfinished.”

“I never even started with you.”

“That’s fair,” Santi drains the last of his beer, “You’re off on a technicality. Why’s ‘Bogotá’ your safe word?” He launches right into the thing that's been tugging at the back of his brain since she said it.

“Pope, you can’t just ask…”

“I nearly died in Bogotá. Six years ago. Why are you so interested in Bogotá?”

“Don’t…”

It leaves Frankie’s mouth in a way that draws Santi’s stare.

A challenge passing unspoken between them.

Fish loses. Spectacularly.

"Well—" Santiago pauses, “Frankie got his dick sucked in Bogotá,” eyes still locked on Catfish with the memory playing out behind his retinas. “While I fucked her from behind.” 

It’s not bragging. It’s what happened. 

Nothing more. Nothing less.

But suddenly it’s tense here, crackling through the humidity. 

Because they’re desperate for her not to think less of them.

This isn’t what they do.

She was never supposed to know. 

They were never supposed to see her again.

“Well. I guess,” Audrey starts and they both look to her, hanging off of whatever is about to fall from her lips.

They forget that she was party to this too.

“She just couldn’t handle Big Dick Morales.”

It starts slowly.

Small huffs behind where the heel of Frankie’s palm covers his mouth.

Mirth creeping into the furrows at the corners of Santiago’s eyes.

Laughter.

Frankie erupts, face all teeth and cheeks and Santiago howls and claps his hands.

“I’m just saying,” she continues deadpan as Frankie smashes his face into her shoulder, “he’s not for everyone.”

“It takes a special kind of woman,” Santiago adds as he wipes tears from his eyes. “Oh man. You’re a lucky fuckin’ bastard, you know that?” He points at Fish, who’s rubbing Audrey’s thigh.

“I’m the lucky one. Doe eyes and a big dick, my god,” she presses an exaggerated hand to her chest.

Oh, Frankie’s fucked.

“Alright, I got the next round,” Pope stands and stretches out the stitch in his stomach knitted from laughter.

Frankie sneaks a kiss to her cheek when he’s gone, and she catches his face before he can pull away, looking up at him through sincere eyes.

“I’m not gonna fix you, Frankie.”

“I know,” he whispers. But he looks at her with starlight in his eyes just the same.

And in the absence of salvation, her tongue will suffice.

Questions up their stakes as the alcohol flows.

“How old’s your kid?”

“She’s four and a half.” And Francisco’s grin of pride very nearly melts her. 

“You married?” This from Santiago.

“No," Audrey shakes her head. "Came close once, but no.”

“What happened?” Santi asks and Frankie lands a kick at his shin now. 

“It never would have worked," she shoots her gin and fires back “what about you, pretty boy?” Before Santi can follow up.

“I’m too pretty for marriage.” Santiago winks at her and she snorts. 

They swap war stories.

They tell her about a mission to take out a dictator.

She tells them she was on standby all night for that operation and is fascinated by their first-hand account.

Audrey tells them about springing a friend from a North Korean prison and leaves out the detail that he was her lover.

Santiago makes Frankie tell her about the time he flew a MedEvac chopper into live fire and out without a scratch on the bird. And the guy lived.

They don’t talk about the bags of money at the bottom of a crevasse in the Andes because she doesn’t know that detail but she knows more than anyone who wasn’t there.

Eventually their confessions close the bar down and they come to the crossroads between their respective hotels. 

“So what do we do now?” Pope stuffs his hands in his pockets. 

“We wait,” Audrey lights up a cigarette. “I’ve got something lined up in Peru but I don't need extra hands. So, we just wait.”

“For someone in the world to do something bad., Frankie mumbles, gesturing for her cigarette.

“Yeah,” she answers, touch lingering in the exchange.

“Yeah,” Santi echoes, reaching for the cigarette from between Frankie’s fingers as if smoke seals the bond. “So this is ‘bye’ for now?”

“For now,” she takes her cigarette back. 

“You should,” Santi catches Frankie’s gaze and nods towards Audrey.

“You cool with that?” Fish asks them both. 

“Yeah,” Santi starts backing towards their hotel with a grin before he turns around and throws a wave over his shoulder. 

“Are you okay with that?”

And she grabs the nape of Frankie’s neck and pulls his mouth to hers. 

_____

She’s not salvation, but it sure feels divine when he has her on his lap in her hotel room twenty minutes later.

“God, Frankie,” she breathes as she rolls her hips against him. Huge palms skate down her ribs to cup her ass and he pulls, rocking his pelvis up to connect with her core. 

Her head thumps hard against his. 

The heat from his bare chest warms her skin before the overhead fan sends a chill back down her spine.

“Take this off, Frankie,” she paws at the waistband of his jeans, un-notching his belt with a clink. 

“Not yet,” he growls and stands unexpectedly, taking her with him. Audrey locks her thighs around his waist and her arms around his neck as strong hands press her close. Frankie deposits her back-first onto the bed and slips her out of her shorts and underwear, losing them again somewhere on the floor.

He slings her thighs over his shoulders and holds her hips with his palms. 

“You do this for all the girls, Big Dick Morales?”

“No.” 

It’s growled through low registers of his voice as one thumb brushes her clit. 

“For me.”

In five minutes Frankie has her gasping and trembling with terrifyingly precise efficiency.

When he’s through he flips her over by the hip, shucking off his pants and kicking them away. He slips two fingers through sensitive flesh, borrowing the slick he pulled from her core to ease the slide as he pumps his length with a fist, running his other hand over her ass.

Frankie stops one second short of lining himself up. 

“Ah, fuck.” The condom in his wallet is once again lost in a tangle of denim that’s lost somewhere on the floor. 

“It’s fine, Frankie,” she breathes, unconsciously arching with impatience.

Presenting herself to him like a thing in heat.

He folds to press his chest to her back, engulfing her in the span of his broad frame, nose tucking into the space behind her ear.

“You on the pill, baby?”

And Audrey has never heard a man make that sentence sound quite so filthy.

“Took care of it years ago,” she pants, turning her face to breathe in the want that Frankie exhales. “I can’t, don’t worry.”

He sucks on her lips and murmurs, “I’m clean.”

And she already knows because Davis runs blood panels and doesn’t send anyone out if they’re not but she deeply appreciates the thought all the same.

“So am I.”

And Frankie scoops his hips to nudge the head of his cock against her heat, rocking there. 

Teasing with just the tip.

Slowly fucking her open.

“Oh Frankie,” she sighs, head falling back against his shoulder, hand cupping his face as he mouths at her throat.

“That feel good?”

“More, baby,” she breathes.

And he chuckles something dark into the curve of her shoulder. 

“Frankie,” her face falls into the sheets.

“Say it,” he growls, palms running over her arms before his fingers lace with hers and drag her arms to their full span up across the duvet. “You want more, say it,” he licks at her shoulder before sinking teeth in.

“Give it to me, Frankie.”

“Give you what?” Whispered into her hairline.

Audrey turns her face in to meet his gaze as best she can. 

“Your cock, Francisco.”

And she’s deathly serious.

As though if he refuses she’d rip his throat out.

With her teeth.

“Yeah? You gonna take the whole thing, baby?”

She growls. “Francisco Mora-LES.”

Frankie slides home on the last syllable because Audrey is deathly serious and will rip his throat out if he makes her wait any longer.

He’s mercifully sheathed full, buried bare inside of her.

“Francisco,” she breathes.

“Audrey,” he echoes and still-tight muscles flutter and adjust to his girth.

She can’t move with the way he has her pinned and she’s raring with impatience. Audrey claws at the bed with his fingers still between hers before clenching hard around his cock.

It makes him buck against her.

“Oh shit.” Frankie buries his nose between her shoulder blades and she grins.

Teeth sink into the back of her neck before he rights himself, fingers digging into the meat of her hips now. He presses deep and she mewls.

Frankie drags his cock out slowly and snaps his hips back against her, speeding up a little more each time until his pace punches the air from between her ribs.

Pounding against the tender parts of her that have her moaning from deep in her throat. 

His thrusts drive her up onto tip toes.

“Frankie, Frankie, Fr– OH.”

He lands the flat of a palm over her ass and before she can moan he has half of her hair in a fist. Frankie pulls and she bends and he meets her mouth, coaxing moans from her with his tongue. One hand leaves her hip to slide under her, rubbing at her clit, tight circles eased by where she’s dripping around him. 

He feels her walls tighten and whispers a “go on baby” against her mouth and she does, spine arched and he holds the curve, pumping through where she grips and throbs and suddenly he’s unable to hold himself any longer. 

“Where do you want me, baby?” Frankie pants as breath starts to hiss through gritted teeth.

“Inside,” she keens before he lets loose her hair and her face drops, biting at the sheets as the staccato of skin on skin builds.

“You sure?”

“Come inside me, Francisco.”

“Oh fuck, fuck, oh–FUCK,” and he does, pace faltering, growling and biting at whatever skin he can reach as his cock pulses inside her heat, flooding her full as his hips stutter through.

When Frankie’s spent he pulls out from her gripping heat with a cry and collapses on the floor as she shakes wild hair out of her face, ribs heaving.

He can’t stop the primal need that swells in his chest and causes two fingers to reach out, catching the thick slip of him from her core before she sinks to her knees. 

Immediately he’s behind her, once again pressing the span of his chest against her sweat-slick skin. 

“Baby,” he implores, one broad palm coming around to cradle her jaw and Audrey cranes her neck to slip her tongue into his mouth.

“Baby,” he pants again, tucking his chin into the curve of her shoulder, bringing two cream-tipped fingers to her mouth. He splits them, a lewd string of their combined release tying his index and middle fingers together. 

“Taste us.”

And she does, plush lips wrapping around his thick middle finger, tongue laving over his fingerprints before he cleans his own index finger, the scruff of his jaw scraping her cheek as the salt and tang and musk of them coat both of their tongues. 

She’s convinced Francisco Morales is the filthiest man alive. 

Audrey slants heavy-lidded eyes towards him as best she can before his teeth find her jawbone, her throat, the back of her neck. 

“You’re amazing,” he pants against her hairline. 

“You’re beautiful.”

And it tumbles from her mouth like confessing sin to a god that can keep him here, crushed against her.

And she supposes maybe it works because he stays. 

He stays to suck bruises into the curve of her shoulder. 

To dip inside her mouth with his tongue.

Frankie stays to help her onto legs like a newborn deer as she leaves for the bathroom to clean herself of his spend that spreads milk-white at the apex of her thighs. 

He stays in the doorway and she catches his eyes in the mirror. 

“Can I stay here tonight?” He asks. 

And the answer is wrap me in your arms with a leg between my thighs and don’t leave until the sun heats us to where we can’t stand it any longer. 

Francisco leaves her in the doorway with the taste of his tongue in her mouth and the fading warmth of a hand on her hip.

He has a flight to catch.

And she has a man in Peru to kill. 

next

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[440mxs-wife]

One Friday Night....

Pairing: Santiago García x F!Reader. Other Characters: Frankie “Catfish” Morales, Will Miller, Benny Miller, Sophia (OFC), Todd, Brandon, Dylan (OMCs)

Word Count: 4950

Warnings: Angst due to an ex, minor bar fight, Protective!Santi, FLUFFFFFY ending

Summary: You love going out with your best friend, Sophia, who’s been there for you through so many ups and downs. Whenever you go out, she tries to set you up with someone, but the guys she finds are usually more interested in Sophia than in you. Then you meet the one man who does the unexpected. Will you let him steal your heart, or are the walls around it too much for even Santiago to handle?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"No."

"Oh, come on, I know this great place we can go Friday night. Has an outdoor seating area, and the music's not too loud, so we can actually carry on a conversation without having to shout," your best friend, Sophia, pleaded. "Might even be some hot guys there, you never know," she smirked.

"Soph, it's only Tuesday. I don't even know what I'm wearing to work tomorrow, let alone what I want to do Friday night," you replied.

"Promise me you'll think about it? Please?" she whined. You were ever so grateful that you couldn't see the puppy dog eyes she had to be doing. Because if you had seen them, you'd have caved for sure right then.

Instead, you rolled your eyes, which Sophia couldn't see either but knew you did. "Fine, I promise I'll think about it. Deal-io?" you asked, though you probably knew you'd give in.

"Deal-io, chickie babe," Sophia giggled as she ended the call.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sitting in a bar on a Friday night should be the perfect way for you to wind down from a stressful week. Have a couple of drinks and listen to some music while you laugh and catch up with your friends. Then you watch as, one by one, they slip away from the table to go off with some guy who gathered up enough courage to ask one of them to dance.

It was the same thing that always happened when you went out with your friends. Group of women, with hair, makeup, and clothes perfectly put together, all dressed up for a fun night out. So why was it always you left behind to hold down the table, make sure no one's purse or jacket got stolen?

Your best friend till the end, Sophia, would try her best to help steer guys your way. She'd leave the table and come back with two guys following her. One would accompany her out to the dance floor, while his friend would take a seat next to you and start talking. You started with the easy questions, like work, family, hobbies and favorite sports teams. It generally worked for a while, and gave you an opportunity to see if there was any spark between you.

Unfortunately, more often than not, the conversation would eventually sort of die out. After several awkward and usually silent minutes, he would start asking you questions about Sophia. How long you'd been friends, is she seeing anyone, then the evening would end with him asking for her phone number instead of yours. After a while, you learned to expect it, and you developed a tough exterior as your way of dealing with it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After your call with Sophia, you flopped back on your bed and stared at the ceiling, giving more thought than usual about Sophia's invitation. It had been some time since the two of you had been out together. She indicated that this was somewhere new for you both, so maybe history wouldn't repeat itself. Much.

It wasn't long until your eyelids started drooping heavily, the need for sleep threatening to overtake you. Before you completely crashed, you got up and went through your nighttime routine. You made sure the doors were locked, then slipped under the covers. Most nights, you read a little in bed to help you relax, but tonight it wasn't necessary. Within a few minutes of your head hitting the pillow, you were already asleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Santiago "Pope" García walked into his favorite bar and scanned the crowd for his friends. It was finally Friday night, and he was looking forward to hanging out with the guys over a few drinks. Frankie "Catfish" Morales caught sight of him and waved him over to their table, indicating there was a drink already waiting for him.

When he got to the table, Frankie, Will, and Benny--his brothers in arms, really--each stood up to greet him, either with a hug or a handshake. The four of them had literally been through hell and back with each other through their time in Delta Force. Now, they were all trying to put the past behind them and move forward with their lives, whatever that meant for each man.

As Santi drained the last drop of his beer and lowered the bottle from his lips, his eyes were drawn to the door of the bar. Being somewhat of a regular customer there, he didn't recall ever before seeing the two gorgeous women who just walked in. They looked a little apprehensive as they reviewed their surroundings, hoping to find an empty table.

One woman was of medium height and had long, wavy blond hair with vibrant, sapphire eyes. She had on a black leather skirt that stopped mid-thigh and knee-high black boots. Under her black leather jacket, she was wearing an ivory tank top. She flashed a brilliant smile at her friend, then grabbed her elbow to steer her to the open table near the window.

Benny followed Santi's line of sight over to where a server was taking the drink order for you and Sophia. "Whoa, I see a couple of fine-looking women over there, eh, Pope?" he grinned as he elbowed Santi. "Should we go over and introduce ourselves?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Santi rolled his eyes. "They just walked in, haven't even gotten their drinks yet," he replied. "Relax, let 'em get settled before you go over to harass them," he muttered as he signaled for another beer.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You finished giving your order for drinks, then chatted with Sophia about what you thought of the new place to hang out. Your outfit included a stonewashed denim skirt that stopped just above your knee, with brown ankle boots. Under a matching denim jacket, you were wearing a purple tank top with gold stars painted on it.

Santi's gaze drifted over to where you and your friend were chatting while you waited for your drinks. With the way you were waving your hands around and the expressions on your face, Santi found himself staring. Even though he couldn't hear the story you were telling, he could feel the passion behind it in your movements.

Your smile lit up your entire face, and Santi thought he'd never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. When he heard your laugh, it was like the melody for his favorite song, one he'd gladly hear as the only sound for the rest of his life.

It wasn't long before your friend left the table to get the next round of drinks, only to come back with two guys following her. She had shed the denim jacket, draping it over her chair, then introduced the men as Todd and Brandon. After taking a couple of sips of her drink, she and Todd headed for the dance floor, leaving Brandon at the table with you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You glanced at Brandon and gave each other an awkward smile. While you were more content with sitting at the table talking and getting to know each other, Brandon had other ideas. He motioned behind him to the dance floor, asking you to dance but you sadly shook your head. Brandon gave you a tight-lipped smile, shook your hand and left the table.

So much for history not repeating itself, you thought bitterly as you discreetly wiped away a stray tear. Just because you didn't want to dance, Brandon left you sitting by yourself at the table. But before he completely departed, he asked for Sophia's phone number, in case it didn't work out between her and Todd. You did give him a phone number, but it belonged instead to the nursing home down the street and not to Sophia.

You absently stirred your drink and sipped at it through the cocktail straw, wondering how much longer you should stay. If Sophia was going to be dancing all night, there was no sense in taking up the whole table by yourself. So, you decided to move and sit at the bar for the rest of the night.

After placing your phone in your purse, you pulled out your compact to check your makeup. In the reflection, you were startled to see that behind you, a man was staring in your direction. He was definitely gorgeous, with his warm, coffee-colored eyes and a bit of mischief behind them. His raven hair was slightly long, but curly and with a touch of silver that somehow suited him.

Your eyes met his in the mirror, which brought out his devastating and lethal smile that made your mouth run dry. He raised his glass in what you thought was a salute to you, but at that moment, Sophia and Todd returned to the table. Must've been directed at Sophia, you concluded as your smile fell. You explained to Sophia and Todd about what happened to Brandon, then picked up your jackets and headed for a seat at the bar.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Santi had been observing your interaction with Brandon while the other couple went out on the dance floor. He was surprised to see the man leaving so shortly after his arrival, then noted the dejected expression on your face. He couldn't be sure, but Santi also thought he saw you discreetly dabbing at your eyes, at which he frowned.

Asshat, Santi thought, shaking his head. Poor bastard doesn't know what he's leaving behind, Santi mused. He was going to get up and walk over to you when he saw Brandon turn back around and ask you something. Maybe he's reconsidering his decision to leave, Santi thought, and sat back down. Then he watched you furiously scribble on a napkin and hand it to Brandon, whose eyes lit up, and he left for good.

Santi paid little mind to the conversations going on behind him with his friends, instead focusing his attention on you. He glanced your way in between drinks of his beer, noticing that your drink was almost gone. Your gaze landed on the bar and the open seat at the end, so you started to gather your belongings.

Before leaving the table, you pulled out your compact, and Santi could see his reflection in its mirror. You gave him a small smile, so he gave you his best smile in return. He raised his glass in salute at the moment your friends returned. For some reason, the smile of yours he saw in the mirror dropped and you snapped the compact closed.

A jostle at his right elbow threatened to spill his beer and he turned back towards his friends, ripping his attention away from you. "Earth to Pope, Earth to Pope. Man, what's with you tonight? You haven't heard a word we've said," Frankie grumbled.

Benny snorted. "I know what's up with him, it's that chick in the denim skirt. You know, the one that came in with the one all in leather? Hasn't been able to take his eyes off of her all night," he smirked.

Santi took a long pull on his beer and set the empty bottle on the table. "Something about her, though. Her friend went off to dance with one guy, leaving his friend at the table. They talk for about five minutes before he's booking it away from the table. Oh, but not before he asks for her friend's number," he spat out. "That’s a dick move, if you ask me," he muttered.

The others agreed with Pope's assessment of Brandon, both for not sticking around to get to know you, and for asking for Sophia's number. Santi returned his focus to chatting with his friends, which included an invite to Frankie's daughter's birthday party. When he hazarded a glance over to your table, you were gone, and it sent him into a mild panic.

"Relax, Pope, she didn't leave, she's sitting at the end of the bar. Maybe you should get the next round for us," Benny murmured.

"Yeah, next round's on me, boys," Santi announced as he gathered up the empties. The bar was crowded, and the only open spot to stand and order drinks was near you. Perfect, grinned Santi.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When you checked your phone, you noticed that you had been at the bar for more than an hour, but you were seriously considering leaving. Sophia seemed to have made a good connection with Todd, so too-bad-so-sad-for-Brandon, you smiled to yourself. You decided to give it another fifteen minutes before sending Sophia a text and heading home.

You were about to signal for a refill on your drink when you realized you were face-to-face with those chocolate-colored eyes you were admiring earlier. They looked even warmer up close, and you almost had to sit on your hand to keep from running your fingers through his curls. You cleared your throat to regain control of your thoughts and returned your focus to your phone.

"Hello there," the man greeted you.

"Hello," you responded coolly.

"Haven't seen you in here before, are you new in town?" the man persisted.

"No, this is a new place for my friend and me," you replied.

The man stuck out his hand for you to shake. "My name's Santiago García, but you, hermosa, can call me Santi," he grinned.

"Nice to meet you, Santiago," you answered as you shook his hand, then signaled the bartender for another drink.

"Aren't you going to tell me your name?" he purred.

"Listen, Santiago--is it?" you started and he nodded. "I'm not sure why you really came over here, but I assure you it wasn't for me," you shook your head.

"Well, since you brought it up, why do you think I came over here?" Santi countered.

"Hmm. Lost a bet with your friends?" you suggested.

"Nope. Try again," he grinned.

"You're participating in a scavenger hunt, and you have to find the most ditchable prom date in the place?" you replied.

"'Most ditch'-what? Anyway, nope. Strike two," he remarked, leaning towards you and catching a whiff of your lilac-scented perfume. It took all of his self-control not to inhale deeply and fill his senses with your alluring fragrance.

You started to get a little nervous that Santi was so easily wearing down your defenses, so you fell back on the only weapon you had left. "Look, I'll just save you the trouble of calling strike three, so there you go. Here's my friend's number, I’m out. Good night." You slipped your phone into the pocket of your jacket and hopped down from your bar stool. Then you turned and pressed a piece of paper into Santi's hand with Sophia's name and phone number on it.

Santi quickly stuffed the piece of paper into his pocket and started to run after you. However, you had a bit of a head start on him and wove your way through the crowd to the door. As you reached for the door handle, it was pulled away from you. In walked the last person you ever wanted to see--your ex, Dylan, walk in with his new girlfriend.

Dylan's eyes narrowed as he took in your appearance and tightened his hold on his girlfriend. "Well, well, fancy seeing you here," he drawled.

"Yeah, well I wish I could say it was a pleasure to see you, Dylan, but it's really not," you shot back as you tried to push past him.

"See, this is why you're leaving the bar alone. And you'll always be alone, on account of no one's interested in you, at least not while Sophia's around. In fact, she's the only reason anyone pays any attention to you, because they'd rather be with her than with you," Dylan sneered.

You could feel the tears threatening behind your eyelids, but you were damned if you were going to let him see that his words had hurt you. With your elbow, you were able to wrench yourself past Dylan and his latest fling, and out into the cool night air.

Keys in your hand, you wandered until you found your car. You slid into the driver's seat, placed both hands on the steering wheel and tried your best to get yourself under control. You realized that Sophia would wonder where you went, so you pulled out your phone. Before heading home, you sent Sophia a quick text to apologize for your abrupt exit and promised to call her in the morning.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Santi had almost caught up to you when he noticed you were talking to another man and his girlfriend. By the looks of it, you knew him but it didn't appear to be a pleasant meeting between you. He got close enough to hear what the man was saying about you ending up alone, since everyone was only interested in your friend. Santi knew that wasn't true, because he wanted to get to know you and had no idea who Sophia was.

After he saw you push your way out of the bar, Santi realized he had two choices. He could ignore the jerk and his girlfriend, then run after you to make sure you were okay. Or, an alternative solution would be to teach the guy a lesson about how to treat women. A look over to his friends at the table showed them getting up and walking over to where the confrontation was about to occur.

"Excuse me. You don't know me, but I heard what you said to that lady, and I believe you owe her an apology," Santi started.

Dylan snorted. "You're right, you don't know me. Or her for that matter, so what's it to you?" he snarked.

"I may not know either one of you, but I was up at the bar earlier, talking to her. And you're wrong. Even after the little time I spent with her, I can tell she's someone worth knowing. Also, where I come from, we don't speak to women the way you just did. She deserves better, meaning somebody better than you," Santi continued.

"Look, man, it's not any of your business how I talk to my EX-girlfriend. And you're welcome to her. Nothing but a miserable excuse for a woman who's really not much to look at. In fact, her best attribute is her hot-ass friend," Dylan retorted.

Santi's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, as did those of Frankie, Will and Benny who had walked up behind him. "Miss, I would be careful around this guy if I were you. If he talks about his ex like this, I would wonder how he talks about you and your friends behind your back?" he asked Dylan's girlfriend.

"You son of a--" Dylan growled and pushed his girlfriend behind him, while taking a step towards Santi. Dylan took a swing at Santi and missed, which threw him off balance. Santi took the opportunity to land a punch to Dylan's gut, causing him to double over.

"Have a care how you speak to a lady in the future. Next time my friends and I won't be so understanding," Santi remarked. He nodded at Dylan's girlfriend, who he hoped was texting someone to pick her up. Santi caught the bartender's eye and gave her a two-fingered salute, then he and the boys filed out of the bar.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You walked into your house and slipped off your boots, stacking them neatly by the door. Well, tonight couldn't have ended any worse, you grimaced. Seeing Dylan with his current girlfriend was not on your "Top 10 Things to Do on a Friday night" list, if there was ever a good time.

The one bright spot was meeting Santiago and having a rather pleasant conversation. Of course, as with most times you're out with Sophia, the conversation starts out nicely. Then you run out of things to talk about and it's awkward silence, until he asks you about your friendship with Sophia. Your defenses automatically go up, knowing how the discussion will end.

But it didn't seem that way with Santiago, or Santi, as he said you could call him. For some reason, he didn't back down. You threw your best one-liners at him, and still he seemed interested. So, why did you give in and slip him Sophia's number without him asking for it? Maybe to prevent the inevitable. Or, perhaps it scared you to think that someone might actually want to get to know YOU first instead of Sophia.

You checked your phone one last time to make sure there wasn't some emergency text from Sophia, then you put it back on your nightstand. Evening must be going well for her, you thought with a smile. Good. I'll call her in the morning, you promised yourself. As you closed your eyes, visions of a suave, brown-eyed, curly-haired man danced through your head and occupied your thoughts.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Santi pulled his truck into his driveway, turned off the ignition, but didn't get out right away. His thoughts were of you, not only of the lost opportunity to get better acquainted with you, but also because of your ex. He hoped you got home okay and wished he could call you to find out, but he only had Sophia's phone number.

He grinned when he thought of the brief conversation you did have. You were spirited, that was for certain. And Dylan was wrong when he said you weren't much to look at, because Santi could see how dazzling you were. He was certain that your inner beauty could only equal or be surpassed by your outer beauty. If only he got another chance to find out.

Santi finally exited his truck and walked up the pathway to his house. Once inside, he toed off his shoes and hung his hat on the hook by the door. He headed down the hallway to his bedroom, where he slipped out of his pants and socks, leaving him in his T-shirt and boxers. Before throwing his clothes in the hamper, he dug into his pants pocket for the little slip of paper you gave him. "I'm not giving up on you, querida. I hope to see you soon," he promised before slipping under the covers.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sophia woke to the sound of her ringing phone on her nightstand. After the text you sent her last night, she had a feeling you'd be calling. However, she didn't recognize the number, which made her think that maybe it was Todd instead. Although they'd had a good time together, Sophia asked him to bring her back to her house. He understood, and she agreed to another date with him.

Maybe he couldn't wait, she thought, internally screaming. "Hello, Todd," Sophia answered calmly but with a smile on her face.

"Um, sorry, but this isn't Todd," the man admitted. "My name is Santiago García and--" but he was interrupted.

"How did you get this number?" Sophia demanded.

"Y-your friend, the one you came to the bar with? I wanted her number, but didn't realize it was your number instead. She wouldn't even give me her name. Please, I need to find her. I need to know if she's okay after what happened," Santi pleaded.

Sophia paused. "I'm sure she's fine, but what did happen?"

Santi proceeded to tell her about your encounter with Dylan and his girlfriend, and how disrespectful Dylan was towards you. He explained that the few minutes you shared with him only left him wanting to know more about you. "She left the bar alone, very upset, and I wish I knew if she was all right," he added.

"What did Dylan say? About my friend, what did he say about her?" Sophia asked quietly.

"Nothing I really want to repeat, but I know she definitely deserves better than him. I don't know if that's me or not. Still, I'd really like the chance to find out," Santi answered.

Sophia considered Santi's words as she tried to decide whether or not to provide your number to him. While she continued to think, a text message came in from you, asking about brunch tomorrow at the usual place. A grin slowly crept across her face as an idea formed in her mind. "Hey, Santiago? Do you have plans around brunch-time tomorrow?" she asked.

Santi thought for a moment, wondering what she was thinking. "No plans as of yet, why?" he wondered.

"I just got a text message from her, asking to meet me for brunch tomorrow. We have this place we usually go to, where we're kind of 'regulars'. Here's what I was thinking," Sophia described her plan, which was to have Santiago meet you instead of her.

"Sounds like it might work, but what if it doesn't? What if she sees me and decides to bolt again?" Santi worried.

"Trust me, I know exactly what to do," Sophia promised. "Here's what I need you to do, though," at which time she went through the plan step by step with Santi.

"Tomorrow, 11:00 a.m., The Red Teakettle on Madison Street. Got it," Santi affirmed.

"Santiago? I hope you're in this for the right reasons, that you truly care about her. I don't want to see her get hurt again. It took a long time for her to get over Dylan and the crap he put her through," Sophia muttered.

"I swear, the last thing I ever want to do is hurt mi princesa. One chance, that's all I ask," he pleaded.

Sophia's lips twisted into a wry grin, even though Santiago couldn't see. "All right then. See you tomorrow. And by the way," she ended the call after giving him your name.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sunday morning had you out of bed early to get ready for brunch with Sophia at The Red Teakettle. After your shower, you searched through your closet until you found your favorite sundress. It was pale blue with cut-outs at the shoulders and a hem that stopped just past your knee. There were various flowers and twisting vines embroidered around the scoop neckline. You kept your jewelry simple, and slipped on your white tennis shoes before heading out the door.

Sophia was already waiting at your usual table when you arrived. She stood up when you got to the table and pulled you into a quick but fond embrace. You noticed that a cappuccino had been ordered for you with a flower design in the foam.

"I want to apologize, Soph, for leaving you at the bar Friday night. I was your ride home, and I should've waited for you. I am sorry for doing that, and I promise it won't happen again," you stated firmly.

"Hey, I heard about what happened, and I don't blame you for wanting to get away from Dylan. Besides, I had a great time with Todd. He's really nice, and he didn't get all 'weird' when I asked him to drop me off at home, by myself, I might add," Sophia giggled. "How did it go with Brandon?"

You grimaced. "Not well. I thought we'd sit and talk for a little bit, but he wanted to dance. When I politely declined, he left the table. Then he comes back and I thought he changed his mind. Instead, he asked me for your phone number," you muttered.

Sophia reached over and covered your hand with hers. "I'm so sorry that happened, honey. You didn't deserve that," she murmured.

"Please don't worry about it. At least your night worked out for you. I'm glad you found someone, and I hope it works out for you two. Or you at least have fun for a while," you laughed.

Sophia joined in on the laughter. "I hope so too. Your night wasn't a total loss, though, was it?" she wondered, or more like hinted.

"Wellll, there was this one guy, Santiago, who came over to talk to me. He was nice, but I'm sure I ruined it. I thought he was trying to go through me to get to you, like Brandon. So, I was my usual charming self and didn't give him much of a chance. Wish I would've, though," you added softly.

At that moment, Sophia's phone rang, and judging by the look on her face, the caller ID showed it was Todd. "Do you mind if I get this? It's Todd," she confirmed.

"Go, take your phone call," you laughed and waved her on. "I'll wait until you get back to the table before ordering," you promised. She gave your arm a squeeze as she walked by you on her way out the door.

Several minutes passed while you looked over the menu. Suddenly, you noticed a shadow, indicating someone was standing next to your table. "Excuse me, hermosa, but is this seat taken?" a deep voice asked.

You looked up to see a pair of familiar brown eyes and a handsome face framed by messy black curls. "Santiago," you whispered, then gestured for him to join you. He took your outstretched hand in his and pressed a kiss to the back of it. "How--how did you find me?" you wondered.

"Please don't be angry, but I called Sophia yesterday morning, looking for you. I told her what happened with Dylan, and how I 'took care of the situation'," he remarked.

"What 'situation'? What did you do?" you inquired.

Santi's hand rubbed the back of his neck to calm his nerves. "He was being very disrespectful to you, and when I called him on it, he took a swing at me. I swung back," he added with a shrug.

"Wow," you breathed. "I think that's the first time anyone's ever defended my honor. Thank you, Santi," you murmured.

"Querida, you deserve that and so much more. If you can give me another chance, I would like to start over, really get to know you," Santi requested.

"I would like that very much. I'm so sorry for how I gave you the brush-off Friday night. That wasn't fair of me, and I hope you can see your way to allowing me another chance," you pleaded.

Santiago grinned. "Let's start over. Hola, me llamo Santiago García, y me gustaría acompañarte a desayunar," he remarked.

You smiled and gave him your name. "Y me encantaría que me acompañes a desayunar," you responded.

Santi's smile grew even wider when he heard your response in his language. "Oh, mi tesoro, I can't wait to learn all about you," he replied, still holding your hand.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Spanish Translations:

-hermosa: beautiful -querida: darling -mi princesa: my princess -Hola, me llamo Santiago García, y me gustaría acompañarte a desayunar: Hello, my name is Santiago García, and I would like to join you for breakfast. -Y me encantaría que me acompañes a desayunar: And I would love for you to join me for breakfast. -mi tesoro: my treasure

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags:

@huffle-pissed​

[astoryisaloveaffair]

My Drug is my Baby - Chapter 1

Pairing: Teacher!Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader / Teacher!Santiago Garcia x OFC

Fic Summary: You’re ready to start your senior year with your best friend, your boyfriend, and a new teacher to annoy. But what the fuck are you supposed to do when you feel things you shouldn’t for him?

Chapter Summary: You meet your new teacher, and he meets you

A03

Inspo music

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: This fic will be exploring and pushing boundaries that might push against your moral code. This story is entirely fictional fantasy and I firmly think that this situation is not okay in the real world and if you are in anything close to it you should find help because it’s not appropriate. It will be respectful though. Just know that if you continue reading, then you understand you will be reading with the following warnings - age gap, lusting over a 18 year old, eventual sexual relationship with an 19 year old, teacher/student relationship, slow burn, size kink, age kink, fucked up power dynamics, Frankie is a whole dumbass and Santiago needs to slap him, these two are going to be a dumpster fire. This will be a series, but I’m not sure if it will be in order or not yet lmao. Hope you enjoy <3 monica

Chapter Warnings: age gap (26-ish years), lusting over a 18 year old, cussing, thoughts of oral (M rec)

A/N: I’m so excited to post this new story, even though I know my entire masterlist at this point is all chapter ones lmao I’m so sorry. This idea has been brewing for some time because I’m absolutely filthy, but when Pedro decided to roll in to SXSW in THOSE OUTFITS I absolutely had to just sit down and write. I bounced around different Pedro boys for it, even considered Clint Barton, but I settled back on Frankie because it felt right. I want to thank and also chastise @musings-of-a-rose​ for brainstorming and urging me on, as well as this amazing moodboard! This fic wouldn’t exist without her. LETS GET INTO IT.

“So who’s your Humanities teacher this year again?”

You pause on the little stone walkway, reaching behind you to swing your backpack so it’s against your chest, opening the zipper and rummaging around for your notebook dedicated for the course.

“Ummmmm, the new one, Mr. Morales.”

LeAnna, your closest friend, twists her lips. “Boo. I’m still disappointed you’re not in Mr. Gordon’s class with me.”

“That was probably on purpose. We create too much chaos together.”

LeAnna laughs while you put your backpack back in position and continue down the pathway to the building your new teacher was in.

“True. We both got him as our advisors though, so at least we have that together.”

“Have you heard anything about him?”

She shakes her head, her long, red hair swaying in the late August wind. “No. Other than he’s a friend of Mr. Garcia.”

“Well, whatever, if it’s not Kwon, I’m fine. Can’t be worse than her, she fucking hated me.”

“You replaced words on the whiteboard with ‘wank’.”

“I sure the fuck did, and I’ll do it again.”

The two of you laugh together as you climb the steps to the building. You kick the door in dramatically like you do every time, smirking as you notice LeAnna trying to subtly peek into Mr. Garcia’s empty classroom. She refused to talk about the gigantic crush she had on him, but it was incredibly obvious. You decide to tease her. “I wonder if he’s going to be hotter than Mr. Garcia.”

Her playful olive green eyes snap back to yours. “No one is as hot as Mr. Garcia.”

You chuckle, pause outside the door of your class and chat a bit more to stall, pulling the books you needed for the class out of your bag and clutching them against your chest.

LeAnna pulls her phone out of her bra to check the time quickly. “Shit I gotta go, I still have to walk to class. I’ll catch up with you later, let me know how he is!”

You nod and wave as you back into the room while she skips down the hall. You keep walking backwards as you turn, releasing a sigh of nervous energy at the thought of possibly having another shitty teacher, but you hadn’t seen there was a person who was finishing writing on the whiteboard, capping his marker and turning the exact same time as you.

You collide front to front.

“Oh!” Frankie exclaims, the force of the collision pushing him back a little. It pushes you back too, but he’s so much bigger than you that you actually stumble back as you drop your books and before he can even think twice about it, he surges forward and catches you around the waist so you don’t fall.

You’re soft in his large palms against him, and it takes him several beats to remember himself and let you go. “Sorry. You okay?”

You look up at him, beautiful eyes wide and highlighted by black eyeliner, making the colors of your eyes pop. “Yea, I’m okay. I’m so sorry, I should have been paying attention—“

“No no, you’re fine.” He grimaces slightly at his slip but you’re already bending at his feet to pick up your books. Because, fuck, you are fine. He swallows thickly at the sight of you on your knees, your punky plaid schoolgirl skirt rising up the V of your thighs. From this angle he could accidentally see down the scoop neck of your white A-shirt tank to the black bralette you wear underneath, the plump tops of your breasts pressed together pleasingly and heaving with your breaths. He jerks his gaze away the minute his brain catches up with his eyes, instead focusing on the pile of crap you were gathering off the floor. “Here, lemme help you.” He starts to squat next to you but you wave him off.

“I got it. Thank you.”

You stand quickly, and he snags the straps of your backpack and picks it up from the ground where you’d laid it, meeting your eyes again as you stand with him. He can tell you’re embarrassed, the books you’d dropped were pressed to your chest and creating an incredibly distracting line of cleavage that he forces himself not to look at.

“Thanks.” 

“No problem. Where are you planning on sitting?”

The two of you turn towards the joined conference style tables arranged in a half rectangle. “Ummmmm over there.” You move to the corner on the right, the pleats of your skirt bouncing against your ripped, fishnet clad thighs as you slide your books onto the surface. You turn to him and he hands you your backpack with a soft smile. You’re tall, almost as tall as him, but he quickly notices it’s because you are wearing black combat boots with a ridiculously high platform. It piques his interest and he has a passing thought of how short you’d be next to him if you weren’t wearing them. He pushes the thought away.

“What’s your name?”

You look up at him once more from under your incredibly thick eyelashes, your eyes darting around his face as you take in his face before dropping to his chest and back up, like you were sizing him up. He stupidly finds himself hoping you don’t notice all the lines on his face, the softness of his stomach, the odd shape of his nose, the patches missing in his brown and grey beard. 

You tell him your name and he repeats it, holding his hand out to you and gives you his own name. “Frankie.”

He takes your hand, it’s small and warm and your nails have pink and black chipped nail polish on them and he can already feel his own growing clammy as you squeeze his hand for a small shake. 

“Nice to meet you. So…am I supposed to call you ‘Mr. Frankie’?”

“Oh wait…crap. No, I’m— I’m Mr. Morales.”

You giggle, a smile growing across your face that is so bright and endearing it reminds Frankie of when you go out into the sunshine after being in dim lighting for a while. You continue staring at each other for a moment, snapping out of your two person bubble as your classmates begin entering the room chattering loudly.

And suddenly, he’s different, giving you a curt nod as he turns away and back to the front of the room. You pull a face at the abrupt change, rolling your eyes as you pull your butt onto the top of the table with your arms, spinning yourself around and hopping to the floor on the opposite side.

When you turn back towards the front of the room he’s staring at you intensely, almost like he’s irritated with you. You stare back, sitting down in your chair and propping your crossed legs onto the tabletop, observing him from your seat. He’s dressed nicely, a gray suit with a sheen and a cool dress shirt patterned with black and white squares, but he forewent the tie and his blazer was unbuttoned in a way that seems more approachable and relaxed.

He waits until everyone’s seated and quiets down, looking around the room to get acquainted with each face, then hands a stack of syllabus to a student on the left to pass along the room.

“Okay, so everybody, hi, I’m Mr. Morales. It’s good to meet all of you. This course is going to be a little bit of history, a little bit of literature, and a little bit of current events, though I’m sure you all know that already. This year, we’re going to focus on modern history and warfare. Does anyone have any questions for me before we get going over the course?”

There are a lot of questions, you’re actually surprised at how much but you quickly realize it’s because half the girls think he’s cute and the boys think he’s cool. You find out he’s ex-military, like Mr. Garcia, in “Special Forces, but I can’t talk about that…”, flies helicopters in his spare time, and, once he loosened up, a warm and laid-back attitude that settles your worry for the rest of the school year. 

Everyone goes through introductions of themselves before diving right into the syllabus. You keep feeling like you’re being watched but every time you look up, no one is looking at you, but you can’t shake the feeling tingling in your chest every time you look down. You find yourself kind of wanting the attention, specifically from him, but you reason to yourself it’s excitement for the opportunity to annoy a new teacher, one of the few things that gives you joy during another boring school year.

After assigning your homework and the night’s reading of War and Peace, everyone gets up to leave. You chatter mindlessly with your classmates as you gather your things and shove them into your bag. As you’re about to heave it up and onto your back, two large hands appear palm down on the tabletop right in front of you. You lift your head to find Mr. Morales slightly leaning on the table with his elbows bent, looking at you with a smirk.

“Oh, hi.”

His smirk deepens and highlights the single dimple in his cheek, and he pushes himself off the table top to stand up, leaning his weight on one bent leg, his hands resting on his hips. You can’t help but note that he has a strangely attractive way of just…standing, even though that sounds completely weird. Just a little bit of a popped hip, and your cheeks burn when you notice the way he stands makes it impossible to not have your attention drawn to his little belly. And his crotch. You force yourself to stare at his shirt, the complex design is easy to lose yourself in until you focus in on a tiny little coffee stain on it. You have to bite your lip not to tease him about it.

“It seems like I’m also your advisor.”

“Yep.” You pop the ‘p’ and he huffs out a laugh. 

“I’ll see you then.” He reaches out once more and you inhale sharply, but he only taps his fingertips on the tabletop in front of you, gives you a short nod, and turns away from you towards his desk.

Shit. Fucking shit. First day and he’s already on his bullshit. It was like you were taunting him the entire class without saying a damn word. The way you jiggled your leg up and down. How you were constantly shifting in your seat, switching up the ridiculous ways you chose to sit in. How at one point he’s pretty sure he saw almost all the way up your skirt and his cheeks had flushed so hard he thought everyone would be able to see it. Your pretty exposed shoulders and soft looking arms. The way your tits pressed together when you leaned forward to write.

Fuck. No. Nope. Not doing this. Finally found a job and not ruining it by behaving like a love-starved moron. He reasons it off with it just being a long time since he’d had a fuck.

Frankie leans back in his chair with a sigh, letting his mind and thoughts swirl around as he tries to kick you out of them. But no matter what else he tries to think of, he keeps thinking of you, you and your eyes and your playful little smirk and the way you felt beneath his hands and the way you looked when you were on your knees in front of him and what it would be like if he’d stuffed his dick in your m– NO. 

He needs a fucking reality check. He leans forward suddenly, brow furrowed as he turns on his computer monitor to bring up the school’s internal system once more. Student Directory. The letter your last name starts with. Your profile. Your age. 

You were already 18.

Fuck. 

But then he notices something else. 

Your birthday is January 20th.

You’re going to turn 19 in five months.

“So how was he?” LeAnna asks in between bites of pizza.

You chew a bite of your own slice thoughtfully, then shrug. “He’s cool.”

“Oh come on. He’s ‘cool?’ You have to give me more than that.”

“I dunno, yea, he’s cool. Knows his shit, seems like he will make it interesting. Chill.”

“Oh thank god. I don’t want an advisor with a stick up his ass.” She pauses, chewing gently on her lip. “So……is he hot?”

You swallow, angling your body towards her more on the little wooden picnic bench. “I guess? I mean he’s kind of scruffy. Not hotter than Mr. Garcia though. Or I dunno, he’s kind of a different vibe. You know, like, the kind of guy who is low maintenance and kind of a mess but it’s still cute and likable?”

She nods, a sly smile flittering across her face and she pokes you at the waist. “Just your type!”

“Dude, he’s old. And my type is my boyfriend.”

As if he had been summoned with the Batman signal, you see his mop of black curls cresting the hill you’re relaxing on. You smile broadly, standing up and skipping to him and hopping into his embrace, his hands wrapping around your waist, then down further under your skirt to squeeze your ass as the two of you start making out.

“Okay. Gross. My cue to leave.” 

“Oh shut up.” You snip as you plop down onto the grass below the bench. Danny sits behind you muttering a cute “sorry” to your friend, spreading his legs so you can lean back against his chest and take in the sunshine. He nuzzles into your hair, taking a deep inhale and placing a kiss on your head, and the two of you listen to LeAnna’s analysis of her own Humanities teacher. You’re content and happy, spending time with your two favorite people.

So why do your thoughts keep drifting to Mr. Morales?

“So how was it?” Santiago Garcia flops down onto the couch in Frankie’s classroom with a huff. He tilts his jaw up to look at his friend.

His best friend had had it rough for quite a while. Ex-wife took his kid with full custody claiming he was a drug addict despite no evidence, but she was convincing enough he’d lost his pilot’s license for months. That he’d finally proven every claim was unfounded and got it reinstated, but he was still unable to find a job because of the taint of the ‘possibility.’ 

After service, Santiago had decided to use his logical and mathematical mind to teach just that, turning away from a tempting offer to work for the DEA in South America. He was tired of death, tired of doing harm, from keeping secrets and constantly being scared for his life. He wanted to do something that made a difference. Something low stress. Something stable.

He’d been hired immediately. And a few years later when his history buff best friend needed a job, Santi was quick to urge him to get his teacher’s license and recommend him for the Humanities position that had recently vacated. Mrs. Kwon hadn’t been very popular, and Santi knew the students would love Frankie.

“It was good. The kids are cool, and I feel pretty comfortable. They’re pretty loose with the rules here huh?”

Santi sits up and shrugs. “Private school. No one gives a fuck if a kid eats during class.”

“And feet on the desk?”

“Yep.”

Frankie’s mind drifts once again to you, and almost as if on cue, there you are, crossing in front of the double paneled windows in front of his classroom on your way to the parking lot.

“And obviously no dress code.”

Santi stands up and looks through the window as you cross in front of the last window set and start to disappear from view. He chuckles. “Ah, that one. She’s absolute shit at math. I think she hates me.”

“I got her in my class.”

“Good luck. She drove Mrs. Kwon crazy, and her friend Miss Castillo is no better.”

Frankie groans. “LeAnna Castillo? I have both of them in my advisory group.”

“Good luck with that. Nah, I’m kidding. They’re fine. Kind of feisty. Incredibly inappropriate, but it’s funny.” 

Frankie hums, swinging his own feet up on the desktop and crossing them at the ankles as he leans back, taking a big gulp of his soda that had long since gone flat. “Her outfit was…distracting.”

“Oh they’re all like that. And they can do whatever they want now, these kids. Can’t say anything to them about how they dress. I get it. Boys should be taught not to even look. But the problem with that is, they’re boys.”

Frankie nods absently, thinking again of you and the way you hopped and slid over the table to get to your seat, rewarding him with the tiniest glimpse of the curve at the apex of your thigh. He shoves the thought aside. You’re just a student, one of many. Just like any other. Even so, when he goes to bed that night, he can’t help how his heart clenches with anticipation of seeing you again.

You’d never cared too much about reading. You were smart enough you could skim through, read the Cliffs Notes, or get a friend to explain what you needed. You were more likely to be found behind the screen of your computer playing video games than wrapping yourself in a blanket and reading a novel.

But when you got home that evening, the first thing you did was sit down and read War and Peace. You read the assigned pages and beyond until you were called for dinner and even brought it up at the dinner table. You blazed through your other work, it was the first day so there wasn’t much, and then you spent some time putting together an especially cute outfit for the next day. You sexted with Danny and got yourself off, took a shower, then eagerly climbed into bed earlier than you usually do, reading the book until you fell asleep with it on your stomach.

Any and all harassing, negative, or anti comments will will be deleted. If you don't like it, don't read it <3 Monica

*dividers by @firefly-graphics​

[pedropascalsx]

A Frankie Morales x F! Reader birthday drabble.

Can be read as a standalone one-shot or part of the Build Me Up Buttercup series.

Warnings: P in V sex, oral (both M&F receiving), dirty talk, fingering, public sex, birthday sex, shower sex, a lot of sex, some fluff and swearing. 18+!

Word count: 6.5k+

Summary: It’s Frankie’s birthday and you spend the day together.

The sunlight streamed in through the slight cracks between the blinds, and warm air filled the room comfortably. Your head nuzzled into that crook in Frankie’s neck that you always seemed to find without trying. Watching the rise and fall of his chest was mesmerising. The comfort in being wrapped in his strong arms paired with his soft snores reaching your ears - the greatest feeling in the world. You didn’t want to move, but you wanted to make him breakfast in bed.

You’d hidden the gifts you’d spend hours searching online for under some blankets in your car and you had already decided that you were going to make sure everything was set up for when he was awake, but right now… being here and having to physically rip yourself from him? Proving more difficult than you had anticipated.

But you wanted today to be special. You wanted to shower him with affection and show him how much he had grown to mean to you the past month or so.

You gently remove his arm from your waist and move your face from his neck, every movement slow and calculated as not to disturb him. You stand up quietly and pull on a fresh pair of panties before quietly padding across his chestnut-coloured flooring and slipping out of the door.

His shirt is the most comfortable thing you’ve ever worn, you admire the way you look in it briefly as you pass his full-length mirror in the hallway on your way to the kitchen. Powder blue in colour with a floral print in an even lighter blue covering it. He was wearing it the evening before, paired with some comfortable jeans and his beloved hat, he looked delicious. You’d come straight from work as promised and the sight of him stood at his doorway, made you salivate. He’d heard your car pull up and pounced across the room to open the door for you and stood watching lazily leaned up against the door frame, beer in one hand and the other nestled into the pocket of his jeans.

The bright smile spread across his face as he greeted you with your favourite hey baby made your heart flutter. You grabbed your night bag from the trunk and made sure to keep his gifts hidden from view as he started to stroll over to take it from you, he placed a simple kiss on your cheek before strolling back inside to pour you a glass of your favourite Moscato, which he now always kept a bottle of in his refrigerator.

“How was your day, baby?” he asked before gesturing to his sofa, wanting for you to get comfortable, “I ordered Chinese food.”

“I love Chinese food,” you replied with a grin, “And it was good! Busy, went by quickly. Better now I’m here with you. How was yours?”

You reached up and took the large glass of wine from him and he sat down next to you, gently wrapping an arm around you to pull you into his chest, “Was alright. Better now.” He agreed with a wink. “What do you want to watch?”

You had let him decide - knowing that you weren’t really going to pay attention anyway. You find it hard to focus on anything else when you’re with him… he’s almost intoxicating. You think about the way he commands your attention without realising it, even if it’s just by his comforting grip on you or the way his hands find their way into your hair with ease as he plays with it with the gentlest of touches.

You leaned further back into his chest, and he rewarded you with a peppering of kisses on your scalp and you can almost feel them right now. The sound of birdsong abruptly pulls you out of your reminiscing and you’re pulled back into the present. Ready to begin your tasks.

You figure since it’s still pretty early out, that you can risk the trip to his driveway in your current attire. You sneak a look out of the door and when you’re certain the coast is clear you make a run for it. Quickly opening your trunk and moving the blankets from the three giftbags you’d packed with presents, grabbing them and the paper bag filled with banners and streamers before retreating indoors arms laden with all the birthday supplies and gifts.

Hanging the ‘happy birthday’ banners was the first task on your to-do list. You placed one on his front door, the living room wall and the last on the big French windows leading out onto his patio, next was streamers and balloons. You chose more muted colours – black, gold and silver.

Once you had finished decorating you moved onto breakfast, freshly baked cinnamon rolls, bacon, eggs, breakfast sausage and fruit. Enough to feed at least six people but you were pulling out all the stops today, and nothing was going to stop you. After beginning to brew the slightly overpriced coffee you had bought specifically for his birthday breakfast, you begin to take your time plating up both of your breakfasts. Pouring a glass of orange juice and a mug of coffee each and placing the few daisies you had hastily picked from his garden moments before in an empty jam jar on the centre of the overflowing tray.

You stand in the doorway of his bedroom for a few seconds, he’s still sleeping, looking as peaceful as you’d ever seen him. A slight smile across his cheeks as he dreams steadily, you almost don’t want to wake him. But the idea of feeding him cold eggs making you inwardly cringe. Instead, you walk over to the bed and place the tray on the side he now affectionally refers to as ‘yours,’ before teetering around to his side and waking him up with gentle kisses on his forehead. Cupping his cheeks as you affectionately whisper his name into his ears, ‘Francisco, wake up, birthday boy.” and you gasp as two strong hands come up to press against the backs of yours.

“Mhmm, I was dreaming about you…” he murmurs voice still thick with sleep.

You giggle at his adorable admission before dropping a lazy kiss to his lips, “I made you breakfast.”

A happy murmur escapes his throat as he slowly sits himself up, watching as you move back down to pick up the tray. “Breakfast in bed,” you announce with a smile, “A nice surprise?”

“The best surprise. But honestly, the plan was always to eat something before getting out of bed this morning.” he says with a wink.

“Always so quick to make it dirty, Morales.”

“Your fault,” he counters back before stuffing a whole cinnamon roll into his mouth and groaning in delight at its taste, “Holy shit, baby.... you made these?”

You nod happily at him, and you almost want to say aloud how glad you are he’s enjoying them because you’ve baked enough for the next week or so. Instead, you sit back quietly watching him eat and murmur happily, whilst sipping your juice and occasionally taking a lazy bite of your food.

“So, where are you taking me today?” he asks after popping the last forkful of eggs into his mouth.

He’d agreed to let you plan out the day after having no clue how he wanted to spend it, and unbeknownst to him, you’d be revealing a side of yourself he’d yet to have seen. Birthdays, Christmas, Easter… Any sort of celebration to plan and you were in your element!

“You’ll see, baby,” you say before leaning over to give him a long giving kiss. Tasting the orange juice and sweetness from the cinnamon rolls off his lips and moaning into his mouth as he palms your breasts over his shirt, “We should get up, baby,” you murmur directly into the plush of his lips and he shakes his head slowly.

“Not until I’ve finished eating,” he says with a smirk as you glance down at his empty plate.

“Oh,” you blush as you realise what he’s hinting at.

“Oh, indeed,” he agrees as you carefully pushes you down onto your back, “Best birthday ever.”

He eats you out for ages. Taking his time to taste every part of you. Taking his time to tease your little bundle of nerves before moving his tongue down before you can cum, not wanting you to finish too quickly. He chuckles as you start to plead, but he’s not ready to relent. He loves it. The way you squirm underneath him, the soft moans that escape you, the way his name becomes the only word you’re capable of speaking as he works your pleasure out of you, the sweet yet tangy taste of you coating his tongue, the way you make his lips and chin glisten as he laps up every drop of your arousal and the way your hands tangle in his hair and how you pull his face closer into you as you ride out of your orgasm.

He loves every part of being intimate with you – from simple touches, kisses and to fucking you into his mattress and watching your face contort with pleasure… but this is by far his favourite. Savouring your taste, and having you come in his mouth over and over is his favourite. He’d do it for hours if you’d let him, he’d wake you up every day with his mouth over your sex if he could.

“Baby, please” you beg as he works his magic on your now very sensitive clit, “Please let me cum, Frankie.”

He moans into your clit at the sounds of your soft begging and finally relents, flicking his tongue up and down over it with perfect precision, groaning in approval as your fingers grip his hair in delight as you finally cum in his mouth, body convulsing beneath him with pleasure.

“Happy birthday to me,” he grits out as he pulls himself up to look down on your sated body, “You are so fucking beautiful… Come on, you can take a quick shower with me.”

Your quick shower wasn’t exactly… quick. The moment you were under the refreshing spray his mouth found yours and he was pushing you up against the cool tile, before flipping you around and pressing his hard cock into you. Thankful that you were still dripping with arousal and wet enough for him to work his way into you with ease. The stretch of him stinging but the pleasure drowning out the slight pain instantly, you attempt to grip at the tiles in front of you as he begins fucking you with a delicious intensity, filth rolling off his tongue as he commands you to be loud - to fill every corner of the room with your moans.

One of his hands reaches up to squeeze your tit as the other continues to dig into your hip, hard enough to leave little bruises as he pounds his way into you. Slapping into your ass as he rips your second orgasm from you, continuing to let filth roll out of his mouth as you clamp down around his length, walls fluttering as you choke out his name, “Oh, Fraaaankieeeeee.”

He resumed his gorgeous pace the moment your grip on him lessened and his hand moved into your hair, and he fucked your rough and hard until you came a third time and moments before he spilled into you. Pulling out of you to spin you around and pull you into his chest, so you could regain your strength by enveloping you in his. You murmur happily into his neck as he praises you for taking his cock so well, and for giving him the best start to a birthday he’d ever had. All whilst gently kissing your forehead between his gentle words.

  “Uh, baby, what is ALL of this?” he mumbles whilst gesturing at the three giftbags on his kitchen counter.

You smile sheepishly back at him and then you can’t help it, a huge smile breaks out across your face as you reach out to boop his nose, “They’re presents, Francisco!”

“From whom?” he says his lips turning upwards into a shy smile.

You walk over and grab the one in the middle before pushing it across the counter to him, “Me. This one first.”

“Shouldn’t I open the small one first?” he says gesturing to the one on your right.

“Nope. That one is for later.” You say with a wink.

“My birthday, my choice?” he counters back, having clearly clocked into what may be inside that bag, “Later is too far away.”

“This one, please,” you say with your softest smile “Card first!”

He removes the four neatly wrapped gifts to find the card hiding at the bottom, and you watch as he carefully tears open the envelope and smiles at the picture on the front. You had it made from a website you’d found online – you chose a photo of you both together, you are nuzzling your face into his cheek as he smiles wide into the camera with Happy Birthday, Francisco – printed above the picture. He grins up at you staring over the top of the card before he opens to read it.

To Frankie,

Feliz cumpleaños, Mi Amor.

I hope your day is as wonderful as you are, and I hope that this is one of many I get to spend next to you.

I know it’s only been a few weeks since we started dating, but they have been the most magical weeks of my life and I hope I’m able to add some more of that magic for you today.

Love, love, love,

Your buttercup.

XXXX

He closes the card and gestures for you to walk around to him, and the moment you’re close enough he pulls you in for a massive hug. Nuzzling his face into his cheek as a large palm settles on your small on your back and the other on your nape, “Now what did I do to deserve such an angel?” he murmurs before kissing your cheek.

You lean into him and stay buried in the comfort of his arms for a few moments before glancing at the time and realising that you’re booked entry to his first surprise of the day is rapidly approaching.

“Baby, you have time to open these presents and then we’ve gotta move,” you mumble before slowly unwrapping yourself from his grip, “This one first!” You say as you slide it into his hands.

He unwraps the soft medium sized package to reveal a blue shirt by his favourite brand and you relish in the smile across his face, it’s covered with bright colourful species of fish… “Do I get to fuck you whilst you’re wearing this one too?” he asks with a smirk, referencing the night before when you took him by surprise and wrapped yourself in his shirt before whispering in his ear that you wanted him to fuck you in it.

You giggle and shake your head, “We’ll see. Put it on. It’s perfect for our first stop of the day,” and he does just that. You watch in delight as he unbuttons the shirt he’d already put on and gently pulls it off of his broad tanned shoulders, biting your lip as he reveals the body that you love so much.

He catches a glimpse of you staring and tilts his head, “Like what you see, baby?”

You nod in agreement before handing him the shirt, “Get dressed, we don’t have time for more distractions.”

“Shame.”

“Get dressed, Morales.”

He opens the other gifts a bottle of his favourite cologne, a bottle of his favourite whiskey and the third one that makes him giggle – a ‘cap buddy’ giftset for his beloved standard oil cap, the same cap he made sure to pull on before locking the door to his house and leaving.

He rolls his eyes at you as you gesture for him to climb into the passenger of your car, “You can’t drive if you don’t know where we’re going, baby,” you tell him as you climb into the driver’s side.

You drive out of the driveway and start cruising towards your first destination, his hand resting heavy on your thigh after starting out on your knee. “You look so fucking beautiful, baby,” he lulls out whilst rubbing circles into your soft fleshy skin, “This dress… wow.”

Knowing how much he loves you in a sundress you had ordered a few more a few days before and you were delighted this particular one had come in time for his birthday, purple in length, short enough and the material clung to your curves in the most delicate way. Highlighting your body in the most beautiful light, and his jaw dropped the moment he saw you in it. A memory you’d keep forever.

“Behave, Morales,” you whisper as you feel his fingertips trail the thin material of your panties, “Baby.”

He chuckles as he moves his hand back down a little lower, “Can’t help what you do to me, baby girl. So… are we close?”

“Mhmm, you were a beacon of purity before you met me, huh?” you giggle, “And yes. Only a few moments away.”

“I was. Where are we going, baby?”

“You’ll see.”

“The aquarium?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, “I-uh, I’ve never been to this one. Haven’t been to one since I was a kid.”

“Figured since we couldn’t spend the day fishing, we’d see some fish instead. If you want? Or we can go somewhere else.” You reply with a slight shrug, unsure how to gauge his reaction.

“Fuck, no! Let’s see some fish, baby,” he says with a grin.

“Let’s go!”

You walk around slowly, enjoying the peace and quiet. You didn’t expect it to be just you and Frankie, but the place was empty, the lady who scanned your ticket offered to get you a personal tour guide but you both politely declined. Preferring to walk around slowly, and at your own pace. This particular aquarium was small. It was part of a large marine life sanctuary that opened a few years back and donations had been exceedingly rare – they had opened a small viewing area that had recently expanded to display what marine life they were currently studying or taking care of before returning it back to the ocean.

One of the pulls of this place is never knowing what you’re going to see and knowing it’s unlikely that these species will still be here if you return again.

You walk around slowly, enjoying the colourful fish and marine life, listening to Frankie talk fondly about many of his past fishing trips, making sure to include the time that one of his friends – Tom - had been thrown off the back of the boat and no one had noticed for a solid fifteen minutes, and they had to turn back to find him. He was extremely pissed off and soaking wet. He giggled like a little boy telling that one, the fine lines of aging disappearing as he fell into a fit of giggles, he didn’t speak to us for a week after that he said with a grin.

You made it to the end of the tunnel, and you must have taken three hundred pictures. Frankie had slightly groaned a few times when he caught you snapping a shot of him admiring the fish in front of him, and then relented, smiling happily back at you as you photographed the birthday boy. He pulled you next to him for a few photos yourself; loving one so much that he immediately made it the home and lock screen on his smart phone.

The tunnel led you out to the final room of the aquarium, an almost pitch-black room with a large glass tank on either side of the room. Both filled with almost fluorescent fish. The sight mesmerising as they swam past you, mouths opening and closing, blissfully aware of the two adults gawping at their beauty.

You don’t know how long you stand there, taking the occasional picture and trying to count the assorted colours in front of you.

Plush lips quickly ghosted over your right shoulder as his hands wrap around you, pressing himself up against you as tightly as he can… “You look so good like this,” he mumbles into your soft skin, “You’re perfect.” A soft moan escapes your lips as you feel his half-hard cock pressing into your back, “Always teasing me with these little dresses,” he nibbles gently on your earlobe, “Always looking so fucking good.”

He walks you forward, so you’re almost touching the glass before moving a hand down to lift up the front of your dress. “Frankie,” you whimper as his fingers find the delicate lace of your panties yet again, his mouth gently sucking bruises into your neck as he slips a finger inside of you. Pumping it in and out whilst you whimper quietly into the back of your hand.

“Always so fucking wet for me, baby... You want another?” Frankie whispers into your ear and you nod your head, ignoring the slight panic in your tummy that anyone could walk in. He adds a second finger and a desperate mewl leaves your throat when his thumb starts rubbing circles against your clit. “Going to make you cum all over my hand, and then again on my cock.”

“Someone… co-could walk in?” you grit out.

“Let them.” He growls into your neck as his fingers curl up against that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.

You gasp out his name as pleasure pumps through your bloodstream, his free arm holding you up as your legs shake underneath you, “I’ve got you, baby girl, let go.” He murmurs into your ear as you cum hard for the third time today.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you say as you grab on to the arm holding you steady, “What are you trying to do to me?”

You hear the sound of his zipper being ripped down as he cock springs free behind you, your panties are still hooked to the side when he lifts your dress up a little more and bends you towards the glass, your hands instantly reaching behind you to grab onto him.

“You ready to take my cock right here, baby?” he growls into your ear.

You nod ferociously, desperately to be filled up by him again. And you press up on to your tiptoes as he lines himself up with your entrance, “Wait… What if there’s camera’s in here?” you choke out as he notches the head of his leaking cock inside of you.

“You want me to stop?” he asks quietly, briefly pausing himself from filling you deeper.

“No.”

And without hesitation after hearing your answer, he sheaths the rest of his throbbing length inside of you. Rocking his hips back and forth, you bite down on your lip to suppress the moans escaping through them as he builds up his pace, “Need to be quick,” he grunts out, “Need you to cum on my cock, baby… Rub your clit for me.” You reach down and start to rub your fingers in circles against your slightly overstimulated bundle of nerves, as his pace becomes harder and harder, chasing his relief whilst making sure you get another orgasm in the process. His thrusts become sloppier as he threatens to spill inside of you. He pulls your hand away to replace it with his, working faster on your clit – not wanting to cum until you have, his fingers work like magic, commanding your pleasure to come forth immediately as it rips through you, your walls clamping down around him as you milk his cock dry in the process. “Good fucking girl,” he grits through his teeth, “Want you to feel me dripping out of you for the rest of the day.” He pulls himself out of you and you reach down to adjust your panties as he tucks himself back into his jeans.

“You ready to go get some food?” he asks with a wink, draping his arm around you and rushing you towards the exit and through the gift shop.

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Sitting back into the drivers’ seat of your car, you take a few moments to admire the ugly little catfish plush you had spotted before exiting the aquarium. He rolled his eyes at you as you almost jumped up in down in delight after spotting it.

“Now, I can always have a catfish in my bed… even when my favourite one isn’t with me,” you say with a grin, “I love him.” You notice a smile break out across Frankie’s face as he grabs the plush from your hands… despite being his birthday he had point-blank refused to let you pay for it and insisted you deserved a gift on his special day too.  

He suggests pizza and a beer for lunch, you’d decided against picking out a spot for lunch when planning your day as you’d figure letting him pick what he was craving on the day would be a better idea.

His hand found yours the moment you stepped out of your car, and he kept a tight grip on it as you walked into a little bistro. You ordered a coke, and you shared a large pizza, and you listened in awe as he talked about a birthday he had as a child in his mother’s home country. Tears sprung up in his beautiful eyes as he spoke so fondly at that particular memory.

“You don’t talk much about your childhood,” he remarked after finishing his story, “I mean… Benny has talked a bit about your family. Will doesn’t say much, but yeah… if you ever want to share anything I’d happily listen.”

You nod your head, and he reaches over to hold your hand, “I will… I will tell you about things and share stories. But not today, I want today to be about you.”

“Of course, baby. No pressure… So, what’s next on the agenda?”

“Remember when you told me that you’re the greatest bowler of all time? Yeah, we’re putting that to the test.”

The rest of the day went by wonderfully, he much to your slight annoyance (okay more than slight), turned out to be a fucking incredible bowler. No one is supposed to get that many strikes you had groaned at him with a smile as he hit down the skittles with ease. After bowling you walked around the mall, ate ice cream, and then proceeded to have a filthy make out session in the parking afterwards, after reminiscing about the first time you had gotten ice cream together… and not eaten it.

You returned home after stopping off to pick up the rest of the supplies for the BBQ planned for this evening. His friends Santi and Tom coming along with your brothers Will and Benny and all of their respective partners – Frankie being volunteered to man the grill at his own party, which he agreed to without hesitation.

“I’m going to freshen up.” you announce as he steps outside to fire up the grill, and you make sure to wiggle that giftbag in front of him as you walk away.

“Fucking tease.” he calls out after you.

“You love it, Morales.” You tease back.

And he does. He stands there prepping the grill and making sure the mountains of meat surrounding him are ready for cooking, loving that he can still feel your lingering kiss on his swollen lips as he blushes at the memory of you palming him through his jeans as you made out like horny teens in your car before Benny calling her phone had pulled you both out of your trance.

He did love it. He loved it all. And after the past month or so, he was convinced… he loved the girl.

He watched with a grin splashed across his face as she bounced back over to him; fifteen or so minutes later.

“Hi baby,” he grinned at her.

“Hi yourself,” she smiled back.

You peeled the sundress of your shoulders and admired the small love bites littering your shoulders and neck, you adore the gentle ways in which he loves to mark you. To place reminders of him across your body, and make you think of him when he’s not around. You love it. You love the easy back and forth you share, the touching, the lovemaking, the fucking… and fuck you love him.

You step out of your underwear and unhook your bra, taking a few moments to freshen yourself up and using a wet cloth to remove the dried cum that had leaked through your very thin panties and down your thighs for your aquarium rendezvous.

You unwrap the lingerie from the gift-wrapping paper and inhale. It’s a bit more risqué than you’re used to. You put it on as delicately as you can, before pulling a slightly warmer dress than you had worn earlier on top of it.

He’s staring in your direction as you stroll with a little bounce in your step over to him, you match the large goofy smile he’s adorning on to your face and stifle a giggle as he greets you and you greet him back.

“They know to come in through the back?” you ask as he drags you in for a long-heated kiss.

“Yes, baby.”

An outrageous amount of food, washed down with a bottle of Moscato later; you’re perched on Frankie’s lap, watching Santi and Benny arm-wrestle because one of them had made a quick quip about being the toughest of their friendship group and the two most immature had decided amongst themselves to battle it out.

Molly was unfortunately named referee by a very adamant Benny, and you can’t help but giggle as she searches everyone’s face with face with a silent plea to get her out of it.

“What did you two get up to today, then?” Will asks after taking a large sip of his beer, “She treat you well, Fish?”

“Pretty fucking well,” he answers with a nod, “We had a proper go of it.”

You take a gulp of your wine to hide your blushing at his purposeful choice of words, you’ve been teasing him all evening about what’s waiting for him after the guests leave and now, he’s punishing you the best he can.

“What did you do?” Molly asks with a sincere smile, before Benny lightly yells at her to concentrate on the pissing game in front of her.

You interrupt him before he can get whatever filthy retort, he has teetering on the edge of his tongue out, “I took fish to see some fish!”

“You went to the aquarium?” Benny squeals as he whips his head around to face you both, “Without me?!”

Frankie groans into your ear as the fit of giggles your older brother’s reaction sends you into makes you rub up and down on him lap, the sound of your infectious laughter going straight to his cock, paired with the feeling of you unintentionally grinding against him, making him grow hard underneath you. “Keep this up and you’ll really need to worry about being seen, sweetheart?” he growls quietly into your ear, and you respond by rolling you hips into him purposely this time.

The rest of the evening rolls by uneventfully, Frankie wrapping a tight arm around your waist to hide his ‘excitement’ and eventually the guests start to say their goodbyes. Pulling you both into a hug and wishing Frankie a final happy birthday before making their way home.

Benny, Will and Beth are the last to leave and Will checks in with you about whether you’re staying, and you roll your eyes before nodding at your brother.

You wave them off next to Frankie, before he leads you back inside the yard before locking the gate and waving off your attempts to start clearing up the mess in front of you, “Leave it, baby, it’ll be here when we wake up in the morning.”

“You want to go to sleep?” you ask with a smirk on your face, and the minute the doors are locked behind him – he’s walking towards you with pure determination etched across his face, you yelp in delight as he wraps you in his strong arms and starts to lead you to his bedroom.

“Fucking tease,” he repeats as he strongarms you onto the bed, “I think you’ll find you still have another birthday gift to show me.”

“I think you’ll find a whole bunch of unopened gifts on your kitchen counter, Mr. Morales… including another giftbag from yours truly,” you counter back, aware that he’s moments from ripping your pretty dress to shreds to see what’s waiting underneath it, “Why don’t you rip one of them open?” you quip suddenly wanting to feel his strong arms tear the clothing from your needy body.

Moments later he’s granting your wish, his calloused hands coming down to rip open the front of your chiffon sundress. The deep V cut of the dress being ripped deeper and deeper as he the material shreds easily under his grip. “Fuck,” he growls as he gets sight as the lingerie, you’re draped in. The lush red fabric pushing your breasts together, and the tiny matching thong making him salivate.

“Do you like?” you whisper at he looms over you, chest heaving up and down as he takes in your body. You lick your lips as he reaches down to palm his clearly already rock-hard cock.

“I fucking love it, baby.” He murmurs down at you.

You reach up to unbutton his jeans, and free his straining cock. You dip your fingertips into the top of his boxers to pull them down at the same time, biting your lip as his heavy length springs free inches from your face. He steps out of his jeans and begins to unbutton his shirt, taking his time as not to ruin his gift from you. He looks down at you as you lick the palms of your hands and wrap them around his cock, “Shit!” he hisses as you start to stroke him. Your pace slowly at first before increasing as he takes a step closer to you, “Suck it,” he orders gruffly from above you and you nod your head before swiping your tongue across his leaking tip, moaning at the salty goodness of his pre-cum.

You take him as deep in your mouth as your able to. Hollowing your cheeks as you bob your head up and down, your hands stroking the area you can’t take in. He places one hand at the bottom on the bottom of your chin and tangles his other hand in your hair, slowly rocking his hips back and forth. “You going to let me fuck you mouth, pretty girl?” he stutters out between grunts, and you nod your head in confirmation, “Good fucking girl.”

His hips start to move faster and faster as you take him in deeper and deeper, hollowing your cheeks and digging your fingernails into the plush of his ass as he does. You look up at him, staring directly down at you, his eyes almost black with desire as he watches you take him in to the back of your throat, gagging slightly as the sparse hairs at the base tickle your nose, “Fuck, stay like that baby, just a little longer,” he grits out as tears start to fall free from your eyes, “Fuck,” he grunts before you pull back and let him spring free from your mouth.

“Good girl, baby, fuck…” he chokes out, “Fuck. Need your pretty pussy now. Going to fuck you so good, baby.”

He drops down to his knees as he reaches back to unclasp your new bra, biting his bottom lip as your breasts bounce free. He cups your face and brings it down to meet his as he kisses you hard – his lips splashing over yours in hungry desperation as licks his way inside, before pulling back to take your bottom lip between his teeth.

“How do you want me?” you ask as he rests his forehead on yours, an unexpected gentle touch despite the desperation between you both.

“On your back, baby, want to watch that gorgeous little face as you cum on my dick.”

You scoot further back on the bed and then lean back on your elbows as he spreads your legs wider, keeping his eyes locked into yours as he licks a wide stripe through your folds, “So fucking wet just from sucking my cock, baby?” he says lips still touching your soft skin. He laps his tongue over and over your clit, you arch your back up and gently rock your hips as he drawls another orgasm out of you.

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His pace is relentless, he fucks into you like a man possessed, watching your face intently as he fucks you into his mattress. Letting your whimpers and moans spur him on further, licking his lips as your sweet face contorts with pleasure, “Frankie, please, baby,” you choke out.

“Please, what, pretty girl?” He repeats back to you with a smirk on his face.

“Please,” you gasp out unable to say anything else.

“Let go, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

His pace slows a little as he fucks up in that spot inside of you, watching as your breaths become increasingly ragged and your mouth drops open into that sweet little ‘o’ shape he loves to see.

“Frankie, Frankie, Frankie,” you chant throughout your blinding high, thighs shaking and your pussy gushing around his cock.

“Gonna cum,” he rasps out as your orgasm inspires his, and he paints your walls with his spend, words falling clumsily from his lips “Fucking pretty girl, pretty, pretty, girl. Always taking my cock so fucking well.” His seems to last forever, his thrusts sloppier and sloppier as your tight clench cunt milks him of every last drop.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you onto your side, so he can face you, his softening cock still inside of you.

“Did you have a good birthday?” you whisper feeling absolutely sated.

“Best fucking birthday of my life, sweetheart.” He says directly into the soft plush of your lips, before kissing you with as much intensity his thoroughly fucked out self can muster.

“Good, thank you for asking me to spend it with you.” You say as you pull the blankets over you both, nuzzling your face back into the crook of his neck, where you now feel most at home.

He chuckles and peppers a kiss on your scalp, “Thank you, baby. Get some sleep.”

“I love you, Frankie,” you whisper in the soft skin of his neck, unable to keep those three words from tumbling out of your mouth, “Goodnight, baby.”

He swallows at your admission, and a warmth spreads across his chest as he holds you tighter, “I-uh, I wanted to say that first,” he drops another kiss onto your head, “I love you too, baby. Goodnight.”

You stay wrapped in his arms all night, sleeping sounder than you have in months. Two happy little fools in love.

[seasonschange-butpeopledont]

Wish You Were Here: A Not-So-Warm Welcome

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC (Valentina “Val” Garcia) / Santiago Garcia x Frankie Morales (platonic)

Warnings: Family drama, mentions of the death of Val & Santiago’s father (and a family pet, very briefly), a bit of cursing, domesticity, drinking, a bit of blood, references to drug use, Pope probably has PTSD, and Tom is an ass as per usual. You might want to punch Pope in the face. 

Word Count: 3,669

Author’s Note: In a dramatic shift from the pure softness that was Sunday Mornings, Pope has arrived to cause some chaos in the Morales-Garcia household. The fluff will return momentarily, with an extra side of ✨drama✨

Summary: When Pope returns to recruit the boys for his mission, he finds that things aren’t as he left them, and not everyone is so ready to welcome him home. 

Taglist Form - Masterlist

Pope glared down at the phone in his hands. He heard an overly-pleasant voice announcing boarding for group-whatever. He’d bought his ticket last minute and paid twice as much as it was worth; he expected he’d at least wind up on the plane sometime before take off, but he wasn’t necessarily holding his breath. Not that it mattered when he was so annoyed with the fact that it had come to this point to begin with. 

None of those assholes had answered his texts. And he needed them this time, bad. 

What was left to do but get on a plane and drag them down here himself?

He wants to be surprised at the distance between them as he scrolls through the three years of unanswered texts and voicemails, but… 

There’s a text from Benny informing him that Will’s fiancé had left him. He could really use a friend right now. You should give him a call, Pope. 

A picture from Tom of Tess’ first day of junior high. 

An email from Will. An online article in the local newspaper’s sports section. Benny won his first professional fight. Go team. 

A voicemail from Frankie. We got married. Tried to call… a few times, actually. We really wanted you to be there. 

Another voicemail, this time from Val. Dad’s gone. Heart attack. He never made it to the hospital. Mom is a wreck, Santi. The funeral is on Friday… Please be here. I need you. 

And then nothing. A year and a half, that’s all it had taken for them to give up on him. 

Pope doesn’t blame them. 

He didn’t know what he had come to Columbia for, not really. He remembered the bullshit he had spouted off to the guys, something about empowering the people of his mother’s homeland. It had sounded real fucking noble at the time, but it wasn’t the truth. 

He was running. Or maybe he was chasing something, trying to hold on to the only life he’d ever really known. Terrified of slowing down long enough to let his demons catch up to him. 

He didn’t know how the rest of the boys did it. They just fell back into civilian life as if any kind of normalcy was out there for them after all they had seen and done. 

Well, he did know how they did it. Ironhead made himself king of the group therapy sessions down at the VA, Fish had his dealer on speed-dial, and Benny beat the shit out of people for a hundred bucks a pop. God only knows what selling condos did for Redfly’s issues. 

And Pope ran around South America playing the hero. They all had their ways of coping. 

A hint of guilt made itself known in his gut when he looked at the voicemail from his younger sister. He hadn’t gone to the funeral. He’d called his mother, given her some excuse about a lead he just couldn’t lose, and buried himself deeper into the hole he’d been digging for himself. 

Frankie’s finger hovered over the delete button as he heard the water in the shower turn off. He tapped the button, erasing the messages, and tossed his phone down on the bed beside where he sat. He dropped his head into his hands, massaging his temples to stave off his impending stress headache. And it wasn’t even 8:00 am. 

Whatever Pope was popping out of the woodwork for, he knew it wasn’t as straightforward as he’d made it out to be. It never was with him. 

The click of the doorknob had his head shooting up, straightening his back and rolling his shoulders. Val emerged from the bathroom, humming softly to herself with a pleasant little smile on her lips. Her brother was still something of a sore spot for her, a disappointment she had never quite gotten over, and he’d done his best to hide the messages from her. 

He wasn’t in the habit of lying to his wife, but he was in the business of keeping the peace. He’d been there when their father had died, had held her in his arms as she cried at the funeral Pope hadn’t bothered to attend. Val hadn’t so much as spoken her brother’s name since. 

“Is she awake yet?” Val asked conversationally, shuffling through one of the dresser drawers. 

“Not since four,” He replied, pushing himself up off of the bed and heading towards the bathroom sink, and set to brushing his teeth. The mirror was still steamed over, but he could just make out Val in the reflection, pulling on a pair of leggings and a sweater. 

“She must have tired herself out last night– this morning? Whatever, you know what I mean.”

“Must have,” Frankie echoed through a mouthful of toothpaste. 

He could feel her watching him, the normal affection in her eyes replaced with a hint of worry. “Is everything okay?” She asked with a frown. Val studied his face carefully, tracing his features with her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“You just seem… off.”

“It’s nothing, babe,” He dismissed with a shake of his head. “Just tired. I really need Luisa to start sleeping again.” 

“You and me both,” She sighed. “Do you have time for coffee?”

“Not really, I’ve got to get to work,” Frankie replied regretfully. “Ben asked for the day off to get ready for his fight tonight, so it’s just me at the garage this morning. Can’t be late.”

“Oh, right,” She nodded. “I forgot you’d be home late. Will you wish Benny good luck for me when you see him?”

The disappointment on her face was clear— they spent so little time together these days, and he could tell that working from home with just the baby for company was taking its toll.

“Of course,” Frankie agreed, a hint of teasing in his tone. “He’ll be so thrilled you remembered.”

Val rolled her eyes, giving his shoulder a playful shove. The small crush Ben seemed to harbor for his wife— greatly exaggerated on Frankie’s part— was a running joke between them, one that never failed to lighten the mood. As the advice columnist for the local newspaper, Val had it on good authority that his crush was actually the check-out girl at the market where Benny shopped for groceries, but he did seem to be a bit of a hung up on Helpful Holly if the frequency of his letters was anything to go by. He didn't know it was Val, of course, but Frankie got a kick out of it nevertheless. 

By the time he’d finished rinsing, the humming had picked up again, and the usual morning routine of dancing around each other in their cozy, half-renovated home commenced once more.

Twenty minutes later, Frankie left the house with a quick peck on the cheek, Luisa’s chubby baby hand waving him off, and a thermos of coffee warming his hands against the brisk morning air.

To say that things hadn’t been easy lately would be an understatement. With the suspension of Frankie’s pilot license and the new baby, things had been exceptionally tight financially. 

If it wasn’t the odd jobs that he hated, or the fact he had paid the mortgage late again, or the constant anxiety that kept him on edge, then maybe it was his eight-month-old’s apparent sleep regression. 

Frankie was exhausted in every sense of the word, but he liked the life he was building here, imperfect as it was. Whatever trouble Pope was about to bring into it, Frankie was sure that he wanted no part of it. 

“It’ll be strange not having you around,” Frankie mused. 

His truck was idling in front of the airport as they prepared to say goodbye. Pope had sold his car last week, knowing that this trip to Colombia was one-way, at least for the foreseeable future. He’d been bumming rides from the boys the past couple of days. Each of them was reluctant to admit that they were grateful for the opportunity to spend a few extra minutes with their friend before he left them all behind. 

“Yeah? I’m sure you’ll be able to hold down the fort until I get back,” Pope chuckled, patting his shoulder. 

“It’ll probably be easier without you always getting me into trouble.” 

“Trouble? If it weren’t for me, you’d spend every Saturday night alone in your garage trying to resuscitate this piece of junk–” He rapped his knuckles against the door for emphasis. “I keep your life interesting, Fish.” 

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“Speaking of trouble, this thing with my sister...“ Pope smirked as Frankie’s head snapped towards him, his eyes wide with surprise. 

Frankie shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he murmured, “Ben Miller is a dead man.” 

“Is it serious?”

“Um… It’s not— I mean, we’re— “ Frankie fumbled, unconsciously reaching up and pulling the brim of his hat lower to hide his embarrassment. “We haven’t really talked about it yet.”

“Relax,” Pope dismissed his discomfort with a wave of his hand. “I’m her brother, not her parole officer. Now, if it was Benny she was sneaking around with, that would be a whole different story. Just promise me that you’ll look out for her while I’m gone.” 

Frankie let out a sigh of relief, relaxing his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. “You know I will.” 

And Pope believed him wholeheartedly. After everything they’d been through, he trusted Frankie with his life. 

He’s jarred from the dream– the memory–  by the elderly woman who had sat next to him on the plane, sucking in a sharp breath when she reached out to shake his shoulder. 

“Wake up,” She huffed. “I have a connecting flight that leaves in twenty minutes–”

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” He grumbled, getting to his feet. His neck and back ached from sleeping hunched over in his seat, and he rolled his shoulders to relieve some of the tension. 

There was a lingering discomfort pit of his stomach that stuck with him all the way to his rental car, and it seemed to grow worse with each passing mile that brought him closer to the idyllic little town his friends had made their home. 

Through his phone full of unanswered text messages and a very brief stint on social media, Pope knew that things with Val and Frankie had, in fact, gotten serious.

The “I’ve got the new baby now and my lady doesn’t want me doing this kind of shit anymore” kind of serious that was currently threatening to blow up his plans, much to his annoyance.

The smile on Frankie’s face when he talks about the new baby is something that he hadn’t been prepared for— not that he’d spent much time contemplating it as he drove from the airport, running through his pitch. It had been one thing to know that his best friend had become a father. Lots of people their age were parents now. Pope was no expert and had no burning desire to go out and start a family of his own, but babies were cute enough from a distance. When they were calm and quiet and not covered in their own excrement. 

It was putting those concepts together, Frankie and a baby, that was throwing him. He’d seen Frankie do some shit—wild, crazy, dangerous shit. Horrible shit that still haunted him, amazing shit that he’d never take credit for. Pope had always imagined his best friend retiring on a beach somewhere, full Margaritaville style. Perhaps flying celebrities and weekenders with too much cash to burn to and from the mainland to keep himself occupied. Maybe he’d get a captain’s license, too, if business got slow. 

But it was easy to see the pride reflected in his eyes when he talked about the tiny human that had recharted the course of his entire life. Pope had never seen him so… enamored. Even with Val, back when Frankie was mooning over her all those years ago, it had been nothing compared to this. 

He sees it then, perhaps for the first time since he got off the plane. These weren’t the same men he’d left behind three years ago.

The recce is a harder sell than he anticipated, but he talks them into it eventually. He isn’t sure if he’s surprised that Frankie is the last holdout. Pope didn’t know anyone in their right mind who would turn down easy money like that, no matter what shit they had going on back home. Seventeen grand was seventeen grand, and if he played his cards right, they could easily turn that into a couple hundred thousand. Millions, even. He isn’t sure if it’s loyalty or guilt that finally wins out, but there’s a heaviness in Frankie’s shoulders when he finally gives in. 

Benny won the fight, if one could call it that. Benny worked the crowd well, kept on his toes, and most of the blood on the mat was his opponent’s rather than his. Will stayed behind, dragging Benny off to the locker room to fuss over his baby brother’s bloody nose. 

It’s just the three of them, then. Tom, Frankie, and Pope meandering through the crowd and towards the parking lot. He wasn’t sure he could get a decent buzz off warm beer anymore, but he felt like a teenager again, completely invincible with his boys at his side and ready to take on the world. Tom had confiscated his keys, and twice Frankie had to reach for his arm, preventing him from picking a fight with the guy who’s knocked into his shoulder in the crowd or trailing after the blonde who’d been eyeing him all night. 

“Where are you staying tonight, Pope?” Tom asked finally as they broke free from the mass of bodies exiting the gymnasium. 

“I was hoping I could crash on a couch,” Pope admitted, stumbling slightly as they reached the parking lot. He hadn’t thought that far ahead once he’d made up his mind to buy the plane ticket, not even bothering to figure out a place to sleep. If worse came to worse, he could always sleep in his rental car. He’d certainly slept in worse places. 

Frankie sent Tom a pleading look, but he simply shook his head and scoffed, “Don’t look at me. I’m not the one who’s screwing his sister.” Charming as ever.

Frankie glared at him but didn’t engage. It wasn’t worth it, even if Tom was right in his own fucked up way. If Pope needed a place to stay, he knew that Frankie would offer it. They were family, after all. 

“Holy shit, this thing still runs?” Pope asked, patting the body of the old Ford. 

“More or less. She got a new transmission for Christmas last year,” Frankie remarked. “Val wanted me to sell her, but…” He trailed off. There was an awkward beat of silence before Pope spoke up again. 

“Is Val gonna be okay with this?” 

Frankie shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels slightly. “Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

Pope raised an eyebrow, challenging his response. “You aren’t going to call her first?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.” 

Pope gave a soft snort of amusement, hitching his duffel bag higher up on his shoulder. He got the sense that he was something of a sore spot in the Morales-Garcia household these days. 

“Better get going then. Wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.” 

Frankie gave a nod, opening the door for him before walking around the front and climbing in on the driver’s side.  Pope followed suit, sighing as he relaxed into the familiar worn leather on the bench seat. 

Pope reached for the photograph tucked into the visor in front of him. Val, a few years older than he remembered her, and a baby. So obviously Frankie’s, with the same dimple in her cheek and big doe eyes. 

“What’s her name?” Pope asks as he stares down at the photograph. He’s just sober enough to feel guilty for not already knowing. 

“Luisa.” 

A hard lump forms in his throat, and he turns his attention back to the blurred headlights of the passing cars. 

They’d named her after his father. 

Frankie turned down a gravel driveway, jolting Pope from his daze as the truck took the bumps. 

Once they’d passed the thick line of trees, he could see the small, white farmhouse set against the backdrop of the lake. It was extremely modest, a fixer-upper that was likely an ongoing project for Frankie. Fairy lights hung from the roofline, extending towards a nearby tree and illuminating a picnic table. 

Frankie put the old pickup truck in park. He held his finger up to his lips, signaling for Pope to be quiet as they headed towards the front door. The heavy wooden door creaked on its hinges as it opened. They were greeted by a German Shepard lounging in his bed by the door, waiting for Frankie to return. His eyes opened upon their entrance and closed again once he was satisfied that they weren’t intruders. 

“’Night, Pax,” Frankie murmured, bending down to scratch behind his ears. 

“Pax? What happened to Ranger?”

Frankie straightened, still not quite looking at Pope. 

“He died a couple of years ago. I sent you a text about it.”

There was a sharpness to Frankie’s tone that hadn’t been there before. He wondered how many texts and voicemails Frankie had left that had fallen on deaf ears. Had he called when Luisa was born? On his wedding day? How many times had Pope let him down?

“Nice place,” Pope said politely, his eyes roaming over the peeling wallpaper in the hallway. Nice was a generous assessment, but it had good bones. 

Frankie snorted quietly, shrugging out of his jacket. “It’s a work in progress. Turns out renovations are a lot more fun when you actually have the cash to fix things.” 

Pope felt the sting of guilt cut through him once more. Frankie needed this job. He could see in his eyes how tired he was. How much he wanted to make things good for his family, to provide for his little girl. 

“Honey, who are you talking to?” A sleepy voice croaked from the end of the hallway. Pope could just make out the sound of bare feet padding along the hardwood floor before Val emerged from the darkness. 

She squinted, her eyes still adjusting to the dim lamplight. Pope could see her shut down the moment her sleep-riddled brain put the pieces together. 

“Santiago?”

A wave of emotions swirled in his chest, mixing with the alcohol in his veins and forcing bile to rise in his throat. The coldness in her tone washed over him like a bucket of ice water. 

“Hey, Valentina,” Pope greeted, raising a hand in a half-hearted wave. He’d dreaded this part since the moment he’d bought the plane ticket. Facing her again after all those years, after everything that he’d missed… 

She didn’t look at him the same way he remembered. There was something guarded there now, and he instantly regrets not opting for the motel they’d passed on the highway. She wasn’t happy to see him.

“Frankie?” She prompted expectantly. 

“Surprised the hell out of me too, babe,” He shrugged casually. She raised an eyebrow, the pair of them having a silent conversation that Pope wasn’t privy to. He could only imagine that they were negotiating the terms of his stay. 

Frankie’s trademark puppy dog eyes brought them to some kind of resolution, and with a sigh, she muttered, “Just keep it down.” 

Frankie nodded, “Yes, ma’am.” 

And without another word, she turned, disappearing once more into the direction she’d come from. Pope sent Frankie a grateful look, sure that he would be paying for his hospitality later. 

“There’s a quilt on the back of the couch,” Frankie told him, gesturing to the worn leather sofa Pope recognized from Frankie and Benny’s old house. It was a damn comfortable couch, one that he’d crashed on plenty of times before, now covered with a throw blanket and decorative pillows.

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” He continued, “And the kitchen is that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction. 

“I’ll talk to Val about all of this in the morning, and we’ll figure out a better place for you to stay while you’re here. In the meantime, whatever you do, do not wake the baby. She’ll probably kick us both out,” He warned before heading off towards what Pope assumed was their bedroom. 

Frankie was a good friend, even after everything. 

Dropping his duffle bag on the floor with a soft thud, Pope kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the couch. He recognized the stitching on the quilt as his mother’s and pulled it over himself. It was soft and heavy, and it reminded him of home.

Sleep didn’t come to him easily anymore, no matter how much he wished it would tonight. Instead, he was left to turn over his mission in his mind, again and again, walking through his plan step by step before his thoughts turned back to the team he’d assembled. 

Benny was an easy hook, young and hot-tempered with an unwavering loyalty bred deep in his bones. Will named his only condition, and Redfly was searching for some kind of redemption wherever he could find it. 

But the fact was, they had nothing to lose. 

But Frankie and Val were a family now. They had a baby, a quaint little fixer-upper on the edge of town, and enough problems of their own to handle without Pope throwing a few more into the mix.

As Pope stared up at the ceiling, listening to the sound of crickets chirping outside the window and the soft cries of his niece waking from her sleep for the umpteenth time that night, it occurred to him that maybe he was asking too much.

General Taglist:  @theravenreads @marshmallowtraver @computeringturtle  @artsymaddie @heythere-mel @jaime1110 @rosiefridayrogersunday  @amneris21 @adriiibell @practicalghost

Pedro Characters Taglist: @pascalisthepunkest @coldlilheart @fuck-goes-on @spideysimpossiblegirl @grogusmum @fangirl-316 @writeforfandoms @tobealostwanderer @diaryofkali @littlemisspascal @pjkimrn @curiouskeyboard @felteppsters @dinsangelx

Frankie Morales Taglist: @freeshavocadoooo @fangirl-of-randomness @darnitdraco @punkerthanpascal @quietpainter @lawfulgranola @meanperegrine @marvelousmermaid @luxmundee @tanzthompson

Wish You Were Here Series Taglist: @marvelousmermaid @hnt-escape @luxmundee

And… People I Think Might Be Interested But Will Untag if Asked Taglist: @artemiseamoon

[ohforficsake]

The Margay: Chapter 8

Benadryl

prev / series masterlist / main masterlist

Summary: Santiago recruits Frankie to contract for a covert agency that pairs them with danger in more ways than one. A series of one-shot snippets taking place during and around missions.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC

Word Count: ~ 13.2K words (I made y'all wait, but you get all of this and two spicy scenes)

Rating: Explicit 18+ / fingering, car sex, dirty talk, unprotected piv, creampie, oral (f receiving), comeshot, come eating / language / mentions of past drug use / hostage extraction / canon-consistent violence / Minors DNI

A/N: I know nothing about fixing cars. I know nothing about helicopters. I know that these two love each other. Special guest appearance this chapter by Ben Miller. Benny fans, your boy is a menace and he's wonderful.

Thank you, thank you, thank you all for your lovely comments, for recommending this story, and for screaming with me about these two.

chapter moodboard if you're interested

Divider by @cafekitsune!

MONDAY

AN UNDISCLOSED LOCATION IN HONDURAS.

“MOOSE,” Santiago barks at where Audrey’s bent double over the hood of a Land Rover as he slams their truck door. 

She doesn’t bother to drop what she’s doing, perimeter alarms two miles down the hill had already alerted her to their arrival.

One of them thwaks her on the ass and she knows it's Santi.

Frankie doesn’t do it like that.

“Whatcha got, what’s going on here?” He peers down at wires and tubes. 

“Auxiliary belt’s fucked, where’s my…”

“Catfish get over here, she’s talkin’ your shit, I’ve got no idea.” Pope calls over his shoulder, not realizing that “Frankie” and not the name of some obscure tool is actually the intended end of her sentence. “This thing armored?” He kicks a tire.

“Yep.”

A massive palm spreads over her back, the shadow of his body a cooling balm.

She looks up now.

“Hi,” Frankie smiles.

“Hi,” she grins over her shoulder, craning her neck back for a kiss, and Frankie briefly slips her his tongue because he’s never been able to resist a girl who’s good with her hands. 

“Serpentine belt?” He asks when she breaks away.

‘Yeah, it’s cracked to shit. Gonna swap the tensioner too. Let me get the breaker bar?”

“Like a different fucking language,” Pope quips as he opens the driver’s side door and slips inside.

And Frankie’s torn between letting her continue and wanting desperately to take over the job, lest a speck of grease mar her lovely skin. She’s clearly capable of doing this herself, but chivalry wins out and he grabs the long metal rod from the toolbox on the ground.

“Top or bottom?” Meaning which tensioner.

“Bottom, it’s got too much play in it,” she answers, pressing on the bearing to show him.

“Oh shit yeah, that’s loose.”

“God, get a room,” Santi quips from where he’s reclining in the driver’s seat, brim of his cap pulled low over his eyes against the sun.

“Why don’t you do something useful like unload the truck?” Frankie calls as he slots the breaker bar into place. “Hold on let me get a picture of how it’s sitting,” and he reaches in his back pocket as she slides her left arm in front of his face. She’s drawn the belt’s path on the inside of her forearm in pen to help with re-threading the new strip of rubber.

Frankie’s cock twitches.

She knows what she’s doing. 

She always does.

She would have done this without him.

And she lets him in anyway.

He applies pressure to the bar, forcing the tensioner away from the belt and Audrey reaches over him to slip the old rubber strap from the pulleys, her chest grazing his arm as she does.

God if Santiago wasn’t fucking here right now flits across his mind. 

If this isn’t all of his teenage fantasies come to life…

She has the belt off in seconds and disappears as he hits the inside of the breaker bar with his palm to unlatch it. Audrey returns with a wrench, new belt slung diagonally across her torso.

“Crack that nut off for me, baby?” She doesn’t need to tell him, but she enjoys needling Pope, who scoffs from his leather cradle.

Fish’s broad shoulders briefly strain under the cotton of his t-shirt as he gets it loose, winding it off the bolt with deft fingers. He slots the nut into his back pocket out of habit and the mechanism comes away in his hands. 

“Don’t need that, it came with one,” and Audrey dives in with the new tensioner, lining the lugs of the new part up before screwing the new nut part-way on. She slips the new belt off of where she’s wearing it and Frankie helps her line it up, pausing occasionally to check her arm for the positioning, landing a kiss on her shoulder here, dragging his nose up her tricep there. 

Once they have the belt back in place, Frankie tightens the nut on the new tensioner and they both step back.

“Oi,” Frankie pounds on the headlight to get Santiago’s attention. 

“Start her up?” Audrey rests one hand on her hip and shields her eyes with the other.

Santi gropes around for the keys before starting the truck and Audrey and Frankie let it run for a second before stepping forward to inspect their work. 

“Yeah, looks good.” 

“Sounds better than it did,” Audrey adds. 

Fish raises his voice to be heard over the engine, “shut her off, Pope.”

Frankie fiddles around, checking the tightness on all of the bolts within his reach before they work together to replace the fanbelt shroud and reconnect the air filter pipes.

“Where in the hell did you learn to do that?” Fish rubs the heels of his palms together when it’s through, squinting against the sun.

Audrey slams the hood closed. “Friend with a Messerschmitt has a thing for old cars too.” 

Frankie’s gotta meet this guy.

But right now he has a more–pressing–problem and he excuses himself with a “gotta hit the head.” He figures cool water on the back of his neck will unwind him enough that he can face them again.

_____

Hours later the three of them are hunched over the dining table, staring daggers at a site plan that’s dotted with an array of plastic army figurines.

There’s a poker chip in the center. A four-year-old hostage that needs extracting. The daughter of a diplomat being held for political leverage.

None of them are happy about it.

But they’re also among the handful of people in the world who can get her out alive. 

Each of them feels that obligation acutely.

“We need another man,” Audrey crosses her arms over her chest.

“The compound is just too big. Too many fucking people,” Santi scratches at his beard. “If we need Fish in the bird ready to run, that’s already too sparse. And if we need you up here,” he points to tight concentric circles on the plan that signify high ground, “keeping the path to the bird clear, I can get in quietly, no problem, but I can’t get out with a hostage in tow.”

“What if I go with you?” Frankie pipes up, “it takes less than 90 seconds to get this in the air,” he points at a toy helicopter with an index finger.

“90 seconds could be too long. And god forbid something happens to you in there and you can’t fly that bird,” she taps inside the building. “Then we have two sets of dead weight and a hornet’s nest on high alert. I wouldn’t be able to get there in time to fly everyone  out.”

Pope twirls a pen between his fingers and Frankie places and replaces the helicopter at different points around the map before returning it to its original position at the private airstrip.

“That’s the only spot that works. Anywhere else draws attention and/or goes against the intel on their route,” he concludes, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and middle fingers. 

“How do we know that’s not drawing attention anyway?” Santi bites the inside of his cheek as he gestures at the helicopter.

“There’s been a nature documentary crew in and out of that airstrip for weeks. The bird Davis’ guys lined up is  the same make and model with all the same markings,” Frankie answers. “It’s just bulletproof.”

Santi turns to Audrey, “can he get someone else out here?” Meaning their boss.

“Getting someone out here isn’t the problem, getting someone out here that I trust is. Everyone I knew in there is long gone.”

“You still got any friends?” Santi’s brow knits.

“Not ones who do this kind of shit anymore.”

“Pope,” Frankie pipes up after a beat. “Ben?”

“Yeah,” Santiago lights up, “yeah, you think he’d be up for it?”

Frankie shrugs, “worth a shot. Benny’s down for anything.”

“Ben is…Miller?” Her brain reaches back and spits out what she can remember of the Lorea briefing and bits of the stories they’ve told about a “Benny.”

“Yeah.” They both look at her expectantly. 

They need the final party’s buy-in.

“Tell me more.”

“He’s solid. Ready to do whatever it takes to get a job done,” Santi starts.

“A bit brash at times, maybe,” Frankie tempers Pope’s enthusiasm. “A little wild when he drinks, a little hot under the collar,” he scratches at this beard. “But not in the way that disobeys orders.”

“He runs clean during a mission, Aud. Doesn’t like an operation that doesn’t go to plan. Doesn’t leave messes. Puts his own life on the line when it matters.” Santi says firmly. “Might be a bit of an adjustment period though.” 

“Might be.” Francisco apparently agrees.

“In what way.” She stares them both down.

“He, uh…might have a little bit of a hard time taking your orders at first.” Santi runs a hand through his hair.

“He’ll push you a bit,” Frankie again scratches at his chin. “Not because he wants to run it.”

“Just because he doesn’t know you,” Santi finishes, arms crossed, hip resting against the edge of the table. “But he’ll fall in line.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“He uh,” Santi takes his eyes over her form, “might come on a bit strong,” Santi says.

“He’s gonna want to fuck you, Aud.” Frankie translates.

“That I can handle. All of this I can handle. Do you trust him?” Her green gaze slides between the two men.

“I do.” Pope answers with conviction. 

Frankie responds, “with my life.”

She stares hard at Frankie before drumming her fingers on the table. “Okay. I’d like not to lose time and waste the intel on this. Davis can have a screen run on him tonight if he’s game. Can he get on a plane tomorrow?”

“I’ll ask,” Frankie sits up and reaches for his phone. 

It dings in response thirty seconds later. 

“He’s in.”

And she immediately slips her cell phone out of her back pocket, stepping into the other room to make arrangements with Davis. 

_____

“Nothing more to do tonight. We’re gonna take this thing out on a test run,” Frankie tips the brim of his cap up far enough to swipe curls off of his forehead as he makes his way through the kitchen.

“It’s 9pm, it’s dark,” and no sooner is it out of Santiago’s mouth than he catches Frankie’s drift.

“Mind your business, Pope.”

“Roger,” Santi turns back to his beer and the baseball game he’s watching on his phone. “If you aren’t back by midnight I’m calling in a BOLO for two idiots fucking in the back seat of a Land Rover.”

“I was actually in the mood to do it on the hood,” Audrey quips as she appears at the foot of the stairs.

“Fine, just don’t leave come stains that I have to look at when I’m driving it tomorrow.”

“No promises,” Audrey winks and Pope scoffs.

Frankie slaps him on the shoulder on his way out the door.

“Lucky fuckin’ bastard,” Pope murmurs under his breath and takes a swig of beer.

_____

Half an hour later, Frankie has her naked in the sea, legs wrapped around his waist, lips at her throat before the brim of his cap knocks her in the chin.

“Francisco, what is the deal with this thing, you shower with it on?” She reaches to spin it around backwards.

“Just my favorite hat,” he returns to sucking on her collarbone, tongue accepting the bitter burn of salt water so long as it’s laced with the taste of her skin.

“What is Standard Heating Oil?”

“No clue. Found it in the dollar bin at Goodwill one day.”

“Fascinating.” He has no tie to this hat save for the fact that it’s his and it goes everywhere with him.

“Used to get made fun of as a kid. For having curly hair,” he tucks his chin into the juncture of her shoulder.

The brush of his beard tickles her skin as he continues.

“Just always preferred to cover it up, I guess.”

Audrey takes the hat off and slips it backwards onto her own head. 

Her fingers wind in his curls.

And she holds him without prying.

“Used to get made fun of a lot as a kid. My hair. My nose. Wasn’t really into sports either.”

“You’ve just named some of the things I like most about you,” Audrey kisses at his jaw. “What were you into, Frankie?” She whispers.

“Liked to read, I suppose,” he muses.

And she hums, nuzzling her face into Frankie’s shoulder. “I like that about you too.”

He’s warm and open like this as they listen to the soft lap of waves against the shore. She holds him as if it could seep into her bones.

After a moment Frankie whispers, “I, um. I used to—not—be good at handling all of this. My past and my present.”

And she pulls back a fraction to gaze softly into dark eyes.

“I used to use.”

And her hand in his hair strokes gently over the nape of his neck as un-shed tears set brown eyes swimming.

“Coke. I just kind of fell off the wagon,” he nods like he needs her to agree that this doesn’t change him. 

Audrey holds his face in her palms, thumbs gently skimming over the apples of his cheeks.

“Got hit with a license suspension a few years ago. Then Pope came through with the Lorea job and that—that didn’t—” he trails off.

“Ended up getting the license back but—”

Frankie stares over her right shoulder out into the horizon.

“Everything else fell ap—”

And Audrey presses her lips to his because she doesn’t know what more to do than allow her body to speak where the prospect of words seems trite in comparison. She presses her lips to his cheek and wraps her arms tight to his neck until he returns her hold, tighter than before.

“I haven’t, though,” he murmurs against her skin, nodding his head again.

“In two years. I haven’t used.”

And she knows what lives in the spaces between those words.

I haven’t used since you.

And it terrifies her.

I can’t save you.

I can’t fix you.

I can’t be that for you, Frankie.

And yet.

She is. 

He’s quiet for a long while in her arms. Body slowly giving up its tension to the water before he murmurs, “you float, baby.”

And her brow furrows in the moonlight.

“I sink. In the ocean,” he muses as he pulls back to look at her. “You’re like a life vest.”

And Audrey chances a joke, looking down at her full chest and muttering, “well…”

Frankie’s tongue darts out to lick at his bottom lip. “Nuh uh this too,” his hands slip down to grip hard at her ass.

And whatever that was before has passed.

Audrey welcomes it with a laugh and a kiss at his jaw. 

“I missed you,” he whispers and again fits his chin into the curve of her shoulder.

“Oh, Francisco,” she sighs and presses her nose to his wet hair, inhaling the salted smell of him.

“I know it’s only been three weeks,” he starts to apologize. 

For his attachment.

“I missed you too,” she preempts and arches into him, gripping his neck tighter.

“Can I tell you something?” Frankie pulls back, whispering against her chin.

“Of course,” is her answer, but she stiffens ever so slightly.

Because he’s said it far too intimately.

And mercifully more than three words tumble out of his mouth.

“I saw you fixing that truck today,” he noses at her jaw to whisper against her lips. “I could have fucked you right there on the hood.”

“Oh yeah?” Audrey whispers with the beginnings of a smirk playing on her lips.

“I was so fucking hard.” 

“Is that why you ran away?” She laughs. “You know Pope was half asleep.”

“Yeah, but you’re loud, baby,” he lets out a sly murmur. “Would have been a hell of a wakeup call.”

“Ah, and you’re quiet as a church mouse.”

Frankiee grins with guilty teeth in his bottom lip. 

“Could have taken me with you,” she presses her lips to his, opening just a fraction to allow his tongue into her mouth, “to wherever you absconded to.”

“The lady deserves better.”

“Mm, like the hood of a car?”

“Done.”

She lets him go and starts racing towards the shore.

Frankie follows after her, catching her around the waist and hoisting her onto the hood of the Rover, massive hand hooked around the nape of her neck with a grin splitting his face.

Audrey reaches for him, hand wrapping around the girth of his half-hard cock, working him as his forehead briefly thumps against hers. 

“Oh, fuckk—,” Frankie hisses. “Baby. Baby, baby, baby—” he rumbles through the lowest registers of his voice as the fingers of one hand trail up the back of her calf. Frankie’s palm settles on one knee before he roughly pushes her thighs open wider. 

“Look at me,” he whispers.

Audrey slants her gaze down at him as he stares back from under hazy half-closed lids.

Frankie slips his middle and ring fingers into his mouth, sucking the salt from them as her jaw drops open, brows knitted with want. His fingers slip between her folds in time with his tongue between her teeth to deliver the taste of salt to her the moment his fingers slip inside.

“Wet already? Ohh baby,” Frankie purrs into her mouth. “My pretty, dirty baby,” he pants, hips thrusting his cock into her fist now.

She moans into his mouth and arches, pressing her breasts against his chest before she freezes.

“Frankie, get in the car.”

“I want you right here,” he skates his nose up her neck.

“Frankie, there’s a truck coming, get the fuck inside.”

And no sooner does she say it than his ears catch the distant whine of a diesel engine winding up the coastal highway.

“Oh, fuck,” he chuckles, corseting her waist in his generous hands and picking her up off the hood, making sure she has her feet before grabbing the pile of their clothes from off the hood. 

They dive into the backseat of the truck, Audrey first and Frankie close behind such that they end up a tangle of limbs, leather squeaking under wet skin. 

Frankie drapes himself over her, a wet curl falling into his eyes as he peeks up out of the window, tracking the truck’s path.

“Fifty meters,” he reports before mumbling “fuck, I’m sorry baby,” as Audrey shifts under him where knees and elbows fell at painful angles.

“‘S okay, how are we doing?” She glances up at the thick column of his neck above her.

“Ten meters,” Frankie counts it down, “five,” he ducks down out of view momentarily before tracking the truck the other way. 

“I think we’re clear, baby.” 

And the moonlight streaming through the sunroof catches in her eyes, turning them a shade of seafoam. 

Illuminating something that he can’t quite unpack right now through the haze of lust.

Frankie fits his mouth to hers again, suddenly possessed with the need to feel. His palm slides down to cup one breast, pinching her nipple before spreading wide over her ribcage. 

He runs greedy fingertips over her skin as he moves, kissing at her stomach and biting at her inner thigh.

She props herself up on her elbows and takes his cap from her head, tossing it onto the driver’s seat before raking a hand through her curls and reaching for his cheek.

He turns his face to kiss her palm.

And Frankie almost lets something slip on a sigh.

“I—”

“Need you,” he swallows hard. “I need you, Aud,” Frankie’s voice is a cracked whisper when he pauses to look up at her. 

“Have me, Frankie.”

And he again kisses her palm before sucking her thumb into his mouth, crawling back up her body. His right hand snakes down to pump his cock, the other fitting into the crease of her thigh. 

“Are you—?” He murmurs against her lips.

“Frankie—” she chokes on a desperate breath and he thrusts inside of her such that they both cry out, Audrey’s nails sinking into his tricep, Frankie’s mouth open, teeth catching at her jawline. 

“Oh God,” he rests his forehead against hers as she tangles her fingers in his wet curls, tipping her face to suck on his bottom lip.

“Frankie, move,” she urges and he does, slowly at first. Long, deep strokes before he sits up, hands settling on her hips as his speed builds. 

He’s not slow about chasing his own release. 

One knee on the floorboards, the other foot hiked up on the seat with her leg over his hip, fingers digging into the curve of her waist, yanking her against him to meet his every thrust. Audrey braces one hand against the door, and the other on the back of the seat.

Frankie’s a man in a trance. 

Breath hissing through clenched teeth, gaze fixed on where he sinks inside of her. A curl falls loose across a forehead growing damp with sweat. 

Audrey arches in his hold, “you feel so good Frankie.”

“You’re so tight, baby.” 

When he reaches up to grip one shoulder he pulls her ass clear off the seat.

But even in this one-track haze Frankie is quick to protect her, arm looping around the small of her back, and the other coming to the crown of her head, guarding it against the roof as he twists to sit on the seat with her on top of him. 

He pauses a moment with wide, panicked eyes, as though he’s surprised even himself. 

“Smooth, Morales,” she grabs his face between her hands and slips her tongue into his mouth. “Very. Fucking. Smooth.”

And she’s in control now. 

Audrey leans back to brace her hands on his thighs, rolling her hips, allowing them both to feel every inch of each other. Frankie’s head falls back into the space between the headrests, hands roaming her skin, squeezing at her breasts, fingers fitting into the spaces between her ribs, thumbs running down over her abs before settling below her navel, feeling how his cock fills her from the outside. 

“Oh shit,” Frankie’s head snaps back, lip curled as he watches in lurid fascination. Audrey indulges him for a moment before she shifts forward, one hand on the seat, the other on his chin. 

“Look at me.”

And he angles big brown eyes up at her before she kisses him with an open mouth. 

Frankie licks warm and wet down her neck, sucking at the salt of her skin mixed with seawater. He buries his nose between her breasts as he meets her hips halfway, palms skating over her back, one hand tangling in the curls at the base of her neck.

It’s too much when she meets his gaze again.

The way that lust has blown her green eyes dark. The way that plush lips hang open and wet from his tongue. The humid heat of bodies and the smack of flesh.

The way she looks at him with something he can’t name.

And Frankie can’t hold back anymore. He’s rough with her now. Building with frantic speed that has her bracing one palm against sunroof glass with her head thrown back, the sound of skin-on-skin echoing around the truck.

“Fuck, you’re so deep,” she keens.

“Yeah?”

He knows.

One hand moves to cup the base of her skull and roughly pulls her face back to his. 

“You like that?” Frankie presses his forehead to hers, grabbing her hard by the hips, and thrusts up hard into her cunt.

“Fuck,” she whispers.

“Yeahh you do,” he smirks, tipping his face to kiss her. “I know what my girl likes.”

He holds her hips, fully inside of her, the head of his cock pressed deep, guiding her back and forth to grind against him. Putting pressure on her clit. 

“Frankie, Frankie, Fr—ohh,” she breathes.

She can feel him smile against her mouth. 

“You gonna come for me, baby?”

She moans and tries to roll her hips but Frankie’s fingers dig in. 

“My pace, baby.”

And she groans in frustration.

“No, none of that,” he chuckles darkly, one hand sliding along the crease of her hip to rub circles against her clit.

Audrey digs the nails of one hand into the seat and wraps the other hand around the back of Frankie’s neck.

His tongue slips back into her mouth and he rolls his hips without pulling out, just barely teasing at that spot deep inside of her that makes her fall apart. 

“Jesus, Frankie,” she throws her head back. He watches her chest heave. The way the curves of her breasts catch the moonlight shining through the sunroof. He latches his mouth to one, tongue laving over sensitive skin.

The hand on the back of his neck grips hard at his hair and Frankie slips the flat of his teeth over her nipple before she tugs, bringing his mouth back to hers.

Frankie’s arm wraps around the small of her back as his thumb and his hips speed up, growling now. She reaches down, skating her hand over where his rests. Her fingers replace his thumb on her clit and Frankie squeezes the globes of her ass.

“Frankie, I don’t think…”

“Turn around,” he commands.

And she arches an eyebrow, slowly climbing off of him, both moaning at the loss of contact. Frankie urges her around, a palm skating between her shoulder blades, pressing her forward to lean against the back of the passenger’s seat. She languidly drapes her arms over either side of the headrest. 

Frankie shifts on the seat and slowly sinks inside of her again.

“Ohh fuck,” she sighs, forehead thumping against leather. 

Frankie spreads his thighs wider.

“Sit, baby,” but he doesn’t allow her time to react before yanking her down onto his lap, fully sheathed inside of her. He moves slowly at first testing this new angle before leaning forward, dropping kisses down her spine.

“That better?”

And she hums a laugh, glancing back over her shoulder. Frankie’s eyes flick up to her and he grins, nipping at her skin. 

He hooks a hand over her shoulder as he fucks her with the other on her waist, building in pace until his hips lift off the seat with every thrust as she bucks her hips back against him. Audrey reaches between her legs to rub her clit and Frankie growls.

“Yeah, baby.”

And the angle is perfect now and Audrey starts to cry out from the depths of her chest. “Frankie, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it, that’s—OH.” She braces her free hand on the back of the seat and Frankie feels his balls tighten when she pushes back against him as pleasure sears through her.  

Frankie slows his thrusts, moaning as her walls milk his cock.

Audrey finally exhales on a ragged cry and Frankie wraps an arm around her waist to pull her against his skin as hips pick up speed, chasing his own release. 

She arches in his hold, head falling back against his shoulder. Frankie hips snap hard with a shout as his cock pulses, his body shuddering with it. 

Nose smashing against her cheekbone. 

Teeth softly nipping at her jaw.

Audrey reaches up to cup his cheek, lips pressing softly to the corner of his mouth. Frankie kisses her properly, slow and wet as palms rub across her stomach, up her ribs and over her breasts as his tongue slips into her mouth.

The windows of the Rover have gone foggy with heat.

He wraps his arms around her waist and holds her to him, softening cock still inside of her, chest heaving as she moans softly through ragged breaths, still tingling.

Frankie kisses at her cheek and up to her temple before whispering, “was that…?”

“So good.” She shifts and Frankie holds her tighter, head thumping against hers.

“Don’t. Don’t leave me yet,” he pants.

“Frankie,” she scratches lovingly at his scalp. “Baby. I really have to pee.”

And he laughs a self-satisfied laugh against her hairline.

“Okay,” he shifts her, pulling out of her heat with a moan. “Wait,” he holds her with an iron arm around her waist, swiping a hand through the fog on the window, checking that it’s clear before he cracks the door. 

He shifts her onto the seat as he steps out first.

“I’m a big girl, Frankie, I can…”

He holds both hands out to her, corseting her waist, intending to half lift her down onto the beach. “You’re gonna fall, Bambi Legs.”

And she can’t help the hearty laugh that it pulls from her.

True to form, her legs falter the moment her feet hit the sand, but Frankie holds her to his chest, staring down at her through warm brown eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear with a wink. 

Frankie kisses her on the forehead and spins her around towards a small outcropping of rocks. “Go on, Bambi,” he swats her on the ass.

“Can I have my underwear at least?”

“No,” Frankie screws up his face and scoffs, reaching into the tangle of clothes in the backseat to fish out her thong. He has it crushed to his nose when he turns around.

“Perv,” she quips with a grin, swatting him on the arm with them after he hands them over.

She returns to find Frankie leaning against a tire, back door open, barefoot and clad in his jeans and cap, one of her cigarettes dangling between his lips. 

“Excuse me, sir, you can’t smoke there,” she quips as she molds her body against his, slipping her hands into his back pockets. Frankie lights the cigarette and blows the first puff out of the corner of his mouth before holding it to her lips. She inhales before Frankie follows suit.

Audrey pulls away from him, reaching for her sports bra and linen pants. Frankie presses his chest to her back after she pulls them both on, reaching for his t-shirt.

“Leave it,” she spins around and Frankie pops the cigarette between her lips as she runs her hand over his bare stomach.

“Yes, ma’am.” Frankie smiles before his eyes fall on the backseat. 

“We gotta clean this.”

Audrey slips around him, cigarette dangling from her lips, and pops the trunk open, rummaging around for a moment before tossing a packet of Clorox wipes in his direction.

Frankie cleans the seats as she starts the truck and rolls the windows down.

They drive back to the safehouse along the coastal road in companionable silence, wind whipping around the cabin, carrying wisps of cigarette smoke on salted breeze. 

Audrey drives with one hand, fingers of the other laced with Frankie’s.

_____

TUESDAY

When Santiago slips into the driver’s seat the next day for their early morning recon run, the first thing he does is briefly peer over the top of his sunglasses.

“Goddard, I can see your ass-print on the hood.”

“How do you know that’s not Morales,” she quips from the backseat.

“Morales has no ass.”

“Well, you said no come stains.” She pops her gum in the backseat as she loads another magazine into her rifle. “Nothing about ass prints.”  

Frankie pulls the brim of his cap down against Pope’s searing stare and bites the inside of his cheek to hide his smirk.

“Unbelievable,” Santi starts the ignition. “You two are unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably good at fixing that belt.” Frankie quips, banging one palm on the dashboard as they pull out of the drive.

“Fuck you, Fish.”

“She did that already.”

Audrey cackles from the backseat.

_____

Six hours later, Benny shows up on the doorstep of their safehouse.

Audrey greets him in leggings and a worn green t-shirt. 

“Well hell-o,” Benny peers down at her over the frames of his aviators.

“Miller?”

“Yup, yeah. Ben Miller,” he holds out his hand. 

“Audrey Goddard,” she offers a sturdy shake. “Come in, come in. The boys are just through in the back here,” she gestures through to the backyard.

Fish and Pope are locked in a sparring match, Frankie’s arm around Pope’s throat, wooden knife pulled out, ready to jab between Santi’s ribs before Pope taps him twice on the arm.

“Boys?’ Audrey calls.

Both of their heads turn in her direction and immediately they erupt in camaraderie. 

Hugs and claps on the back, big smiles all around. 

Audrey slips back inside, allowing them a moment to catch up.

After they’ve said their hellos Benny nods towards the house, “so uh, who’s that? She come with the place?”

“Moose? Nah. She’s running this thing.” Santi grins. 

“Like the coordinator?”

“No, like the Mission Commander, Benny.” Frankie scoffs. 

“No shit,” Benny perches his hands on his hips.

“Well. She technically outranks you,” Santi whacks Benny’s chest with the back of his hand. “Don’t overstep.”

And overstep is the first thing that Benny does.

“So you’re the Mission Commander?” Benny barks when she returns.

“Yes,” Audrey sets a fresh pitcher of water on the patio table.

“What’s your background?”

“I’ll have Davis email you my full roster,” she slips dark shades over her eyes against the sharp afternoon sun.

“Can’t tell me yourself?”

“We don’t have that much time.”

“What branch?”

“Never served under a branch.”

“So you never served.”

“I’ve been serving for almost 25 years, Miller.”

“Benny, did you not get—” Santi starts.

“I did. Didn’t read it.” Benny’s eyes are still locked on hers from behind mirrored aviators. “Alright,” he nods toward the lawn. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Frankie lets out a low whistle. “You’re about to be humbled, Benjamin.”

“Maybe,” he calls, not believing it for a second. “You’re tiny, though,” he says to Audrey, who slips off her shades and tosses them to Frankie.

Audrey’s no waif, but Benny is nine inches taller and has fifty pounds on her. 

And Benny fights guys bigger than he is down at the gym all the time. And wins. 

There’s no way in his mind that she can best him. 

“Take those off, pretty boy,” she points at his shades.

“‘S fine.”

“Alrigh,” she toes at the dirt, “not on me if they break.”

“Alright, keep it clean you two. No punches, no kicks, nothing permanent,” Santi calls. “Aud, you got knives on you?”

She reaches into her boots and pulls two out to hand over.

“Benny?”

“Nah, I just got off a plane, man.”

“Alright, set it up.”

 Benny jumps a few times before holding his fists up to his cheeks in a guard.

Audrey drops her right foot back and crouches.

And Santi gives the cue.

Immediately Benny closes the distance between the two of them, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder like a ragdoll. She’s quick to react, twisting to hook the inside of her elbow around the back of her knee, pulling tight such that the crease of her hip and the top of her thigh apply pressure on Benny’s neck, choking off his carotid artery.

He has no choice but to tap out, aviators hanging awkwardly off of the end of his nose.

“Okay,” he finally hands them off to Santi, raking his hair out of his eyes, “two out of three.”

Santi gives the signal again and Benny goes for her knees this time, immediately dropping her to the ground. They tussle for a moment before Audrey locks Benny in a triangle choke that he can’t find his way out of.

He taps out against her collarbone.

“Okay, three tries,” Benny grunts, blue shirt starting to darken with sweat.

“Benny, that’s—” Fish tries to intervene.

“It’s fine, Frankie,” Audrey’s chest is heaving as she holds up a hand in his direction. “Let him have it.”

They get back into position and when Santi gives the signal Benny is immediately behind her, trapping her neck in a chokehold between his arms, huge palm applying pressure to the back of her skull.

Frankie twitches but Santi holds out a hand.

Audrey jumps with her legs in the air, using their weight to swing Benny forward, turning as she lands and slipping her head from between his arms. Benny braces himself on his palms and immediately constricts, balling himself in an effort to cut off her ability to hook any of his limbs. In a flash she leans on his back, wrapping an arm over one shoulder and the other under the opposite armpit, prying one elbow away from his torso with a jab of her knee. Her leg hooks it and kicks back, taking Benny’s arm with it to its full span. She locks the top of her foot over her calf with his outstretched limb between her legs and spreads her knees, the pressure from her hips bending Benny’s arm the wrong way until he frantically slaps at a patch of dirt.

She instantly unfolds from him and rolls away into the grass.

“Alright,” he pants, holding out a fist, still face-down on his stomach. “You win.”

Audrey taps it with her own knuckles, fighting for breath. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Benny swallows hard through his panting, “Yeah I’m good.”

He sits up and stretches his arm for good measure.

“Can we be done here?” Frankie asks, unsure that his heart can handle seeing her in danger, and positive that his dick is going to act up seeing her get herself out of it. “It’s fuckin’ hot.”

They take turns with showers between the safehouse’s two bathrooms, until Frankie slips in with Audrey.

“Thoughts?” He asks quietly, wetting his hair under the spray.

“He made good choices out there,” she hands him the bottle of shampoo. “Smart in a fight.”

“Yeah, Benny fights down at the local gym. Kind of a small-town celebrity.” He sneaks a kiss at the nape of her neck as he scrubs at his scalp before rinsing. “I didn’t know you could do that, though.” 

“Getting too old for much hand-to-hand these days,” she winks over her shoulder at him as he grabs the conditioner bottle from her, raking cream through her curls before slicking the excess through his own hair.

“He got you good back here,” Frankie delicately runs thick fingers over the bruises blossoming on the wings of her hip bones from when Benny took her knees out from under her. 

Frankie wraps his arms around her waist, holding her to his chest a moment.

“Don’t like seeing you like that.”

“This is what we do, Frankie,” she soothes a palm over his forearm.

“Yeah.”

And he gently turns her head to slip his tongue into her mouth, enjoying this moment to themselves.

Frankie warmed by the water. 

Audrey warmed by Frankie.

_____

They rejoin the boys in the kitchen where Santi has started on steaks and Benny has thrown in to whip up roasted vegetables. 

Frankie cracks open beers and passes them around.

Afternoon flows into evening. Beer flows into liquor. 

Camaraderie abounds.

Somewhere around 10pm, when Audrey excuses herself to the restroom, the whiskey in Benny’s veins springs a question loose.

“Alright, boys,” his voice is low. “Which one of you is hittin’ that because if you’re not, I’m gonna.”

“That’s pretty bold of you to assume she’d have you, Benny,” Pope reaches for his glass.

“It’s that white boy confidence,” Frankie quips from where he’s leaned back in his chair and Santi snorts, nearly spitting out his drink.

“I mean—” and Benny makes a show of running his hand through his hair. “But seriously, is she single?”

“She’s not gonna fuck you, Benny.” Santi grins.

“Alright, okay. I see you, Pope,” Benny smacks the back of his hand against Santi’s arm.

“I think I have to turn in, boys,” Audrey sighs when she returns, reaching for her glass without sitting and tossing back the last of her gin. “We’ll run it through top to bottom tomorrow and get you geared up,” she nods at Benny. “I have Davis’ guys refreshing the intel. Provided everything still checks out, we’ll execute on Thursday as originally planned.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Benny nods. Bourbon eyes starting to fall heavy on the sway of her hips. 

She places her glass in the sink before moving to gently grab Frankie’s chin one hand, thumb and middle fingers fitting in the bare patches in his beard, and bends to give him a quick, chaste kiss.

He hooks an arm around her waist when she moves away, hauling her against him again, “I’ll be there in a sec,” he assures her before craning his head up for her lips again.

“No rush,” she soothes a hand over the span of his chest, “I might be back down for water, but you boys enjoy. G’night.”

When she’s upstairs and out of earshot, Benny erupts in hushed tones.

“CATFISH, YOU DOG.”

Frankie grins and blushes in that order.

“Damn,” Benny muses to himself as he takes another sip of whiskey. “I would not have guessed.”

“Ah c’mon you should know better, Benny.” Santi jabs a thumb in Frankie’s direction. “Big Dick Morales, remember?”

“BIG. DICK. MORALES.” And Benny holds his hand up for a high-five that Frankie rolls his eyes at, crossing his arms against his chest instead. “Damn.”

“Bastard finally found his glass slipper,” Santi quips.

“Jesus Christ, Pope,” an agitated Frankie rubs at his eyes. “Okay can we—” Frankie winds his hand forward through the air, wanting desperately to move away from this line of conversation. 

Benny leans in across the table, finger pointed at the ceiling in reference to the woman upstairs, “the whole thing? Fuuuck.”

“Dude, you can hear the two of them like three rooms over,” Santi snarks.

“Oh well you gotta enlighten us, Catfish,” Benny spreads his arms and leans back in his chair.

“I ain’t tellin’ you shit, Benjamin.” Frankie quips, swallowing a mouthful of whiskey.

“Ah, c’mon, Fish. You know me and this one are painfully single.” Benny smacks Pope on the arm again. Like literally, my balls ache.”

“That’s not a real thing,” Frankie shakes his head.

“It is!”

“Then get acquainted with your hand, Benny, I dunno what to tell you.”

“She is smokin’ hot, Catfish. Can I at least get some material here…”

Frankie shakes his head and starts, “I’d suggest you try www dot p-o-r…”

And there’s a snort from the stairwell

Audrey in black sleep shorts and a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt, metal waterbottle in hand.

And she watches the tips of Benny’s ears start to burn.

Even Santiago sits up a bit straighter.

Frankie covers the smirk on his face with the heel of his palm.

Because he knows Audrey’s about to put Benny back in line for the second time today.

“Don’t let me stop you, boys,” she pads over to the sink on bare feet to fill her bottle.

Fraught silence hangs in the air until Benny pipes up.

“We uh, we were just asking Big Dick Morales over here to tell us his secret.” Bourbon has made Benny’s tongue loose. “Seems like you could have anyone and yet you chose this guy. Must know something we don’t.”

Audrey has a measured tolerance for many things. 

Slandering her lover is not one of them. 

“Benny,” she places her water bottle on the table. “Benjamin?” And she drapes her arm across Benny’s shoulders in a move that sends him rigid in his chair from the slouch he was in.

“You really want to know his secret?”

Benny swallows hard. 

“He’s sweet. He’s smart. He’s funny. There’s no peacocking with him. It’s that easy, Benny.”

Benny snorts like he doesn't believe her. 

Sober Ben Miller would never steal a friend’s girl. Drunk Ben Miller is a 6’3” blue-eyed, dirty dishwater blonde who’s never been told ‘no.’

And Audrey needs to disavow him of whatever little fantasy he has that distracts him from the task at hand and makes him think she’ll end up in his bed after the celebratory round of drinks when this is all through.

She cranes low to whisper near Benny’s ear, eyes glinting where they’re locked on Frankie’s mischievous, half-lidded ones. “Okay, here’s a secret, Benny. You ever found that spot that’s so deep it makes your lady see stars? Not the one up front, any idiot can find that. It’s way back in there, tucked away because it’s the most precious place you’ll ever go. That one spot that sets her whole body reeling for minutes afterward. You ever found that?”

And she waits until Benny answers, “no.”

“No? Santi, you ever done that?” She doesn’t move, and doesn’t break Frankie’s stare as she asks it.

“Once or twice,” it’s the truth, but Santiago smirks because he knows what she’s doing and agrees that it needs done. “It’s been years though.”

“Wild. Frankie hits that every. time.”

She claps him on the back, “you should try it, Benny. Good communication is key, but you’ll get there.”

And she hooks a finger into the cap of her water bottle and heads for the stairs.

Frankie throws them a salute with two fingers and follows right behind her.

“Was that too harsh?” She whispers when Frankie turns the lock on the bedroom door, brown eyes wide.

“Baby,” he grabs her around the waist, peppering her face with the softness of his lips and the scrape of his scruff. “That was so. fucking. sexy.” He trails his nose down her neck, licking and sucking at her skin.

“I only told the truth, Francisco,” she throws her arms around his neck.

And Frankie presses her to him, palm accidentally catching on her bruises and she winces.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he apologizes with lips on her neck.

“‘S okay,” a kiss, “get in bed, Frankie.”

Frankie hums, tongue licking behind her teeth. 

And she crawls under the duvet, settling on her side as Frankie quietly strips down to his boxer briefs, placing his cap on the nightstand.

Frankie hums as his lips find her ear and his hand cups her breast, making her arch back against him with a moan.

“Shhh baby,” Frankie soothes. “Not sure how thin these walls are.”

“Pope doesn’t give a shit.”

“Benny might. Wouldn’t want to scare the kid.”

“That’s a grown man, Francisco,” she whispers as she twists in his hold, hand cupping his jaw. “And I don’t really care what Benny hears,” her fingers slip down his stomach, nails catching on the trail of hair leading under his waistband.

She smirks against his lips, “how did that conversation even start?”

“Mhmm,” Frankie squeezes her thigh and pulls her closer to him, nose skimming her cheek. “Benny wanted to know if you’re single.”

“Am I not?”

“No. You’re mine.”

And he moves before Audrey can process Frankie having laid their situation that bare in front of her. He rolls and pulls her with him to lie on his chest, hand cradling her skull as his lips find hers.

But he senses her hesitation.

“Do—do you want to fuck Benny?” His eyes are suddenly soft. Unsure of himself.

“No, Frankie, I don’t want to fuck Benny.” She adjusts to straddle his hips and sits up, raking her hair out of her eyes.

“Then wh—”

“Shhh, Frankie, please,” she soothes both hands over the slight swell of his belly. “Tonight, I’m yours,” she cranes down to kiss him, “and for the rest of this trip, I’m yours.”

But it all sounds so temporary.

And he wants so desperately to push back. To ask what happens in the after. 

What happens when she goes home? Does she lay in bed alone, sleeping like a baby, or is her bed warmed by someone else? 

Does she wish for his company when she goes to the movies, does she need someone to hold her shopping bags at the mall, who packs her groceries in her fridge, or does she do it all alone?

Does she make herself come and wish it was him?

Is he some secret she keeps stashed away?

Is there another?

Does she think of him at all?

“But—”

“Francisco. Leave it.” Her gaze is granite. “Please. Please let us just have this. Right here. Right now.”

And the thing in her eyes is back again. The thing he can’t quite name.

But there’s want there too.

And it’s only the whiskey with a side of beer that allows him to acquiesce.

“Okay,” he whispers, kissing her deeply before sitting up, palms skating up the panes of her back before flipping her over, parting her legs with his shoulders.

And he means okay out of desperation. The visceral need to prove his worth to a woman that could slip through his fingers and into another man’s bed on a whim.

There would be a taker downstairs.

And okay he’s going to do his best.

Okay, he’ll pour want—need—through his fingertips.

Okay.

He’ll crack granite.

And Frankie has all the right moves. The skillful flick of his tongue, the hollowing of his cheeks, and the pump of his fingers.

But Audrey’s brain won’t let her come.

“Baby,” he looks up from between her thighs, rubbing a palm down her stomach, “where are you?”

She takes a deep breath as he rakes his hair off of his forehead and runs his tongue over a bottom lip wet with her slick.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, baby.” She props herself up on her elbows and Frankie gently lets her legs fall open to climb up her body, the tip of his nose brushing hers.

“What’s wrong, gatita?” He whispers.

And that word feels a world away from where they are now.

“Think I’m just distracted, Frankie.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, that’s okay, baby,” he tucks a stray curl behind her ear before shifting around to lay next to her. He settles on his side, pulling the duvet up enough to take the tent in his boxer briefs out of the equation.

She stares into the middle distance while Frankie sits with her in the silence. 

Palm still rubbing her stomach under her t-shirt.

Trying to soothe himself with her skin.

He’s losing her.

She settles down next to him, his hand settling on her ribcage, thumb rubbing soft circles into her skin.

Big green eyes settling on brown ones that are doing their best to hide panic.

When she reaches for his cheek his lids flutter closed, her cold hand a balm to his burn.

Audrey maps the contours of his face with reverent fingers. Palm curving over the roundness of his cheeks. Nails catching on his beard. Thumb tracing echoes of the joy that accumulates in the corners of tired eyes. 

She runs her index finger lightly over the scar on the bridge of his nose.

She presses a kiss to his lips.

And he offers a soft smile when he opens his eyes again.

“Frankie,” she whispers, running her thumb feather-light over his bottom lip, “do you remember what I told you. That second night?”

“You told me a lot of things that second night,” he runs his fingertips down her spine.

“But what I always come back to is—”

“You’re beautiful.”

They both whisper it at the same time.

The corner of Frankie’s lips quirk in a gentle smile that dimples one cheek.

“You’re beautiful Frankie,” she kisses his chin. “I need you to know. You’re beautiful.”

And it soothes him in the moment. Enough that his eyes start to slip closed, pulled at first by the weight in his chest. The need to shut out this reality. 

She turns in his arms to press her back to his chest and he pulls her in to him, tucking his nose against her neck.

Settling into each other like they do every night they share a borrowed bed.

And Frankie slips off, warm breath skating over her skin.

But Audrey’s heart still pounds in her ears.

_____

They shift around each other in the night.

Frankie’s legs tangling with hers.

Her fist clenching in the cotton of his shirt.

His palm cupping her warm breast. Staying there.

Audrey’s tongue slipping into his mouth.

Frankie pulling at her waist urging her on top of him.

“Baby, I need you—” he swallows hard. Unable, through the haze of sleep, to stave off the seep of apprehension into his viscera. 

Desperation.

It bleeds into the haze of his dreams and back out into reality when her weight blankets him.

He skates his nose up the side of her neck, hot puffs of breath dampening her skin before he nips at her ear, “now. Right now baby.”

Take this feeling from me.

Let me prove that you’re mine.

She sits up from where she straddles his hips, pulling her t-shirt off as Frankie rights himself to lave his tongue over one tight nipple.

Audrey wraps her arms around his neck and his hands settle over her shoulder blades before he lays her backwards, kissing a path down her form as her fingers tangle in his hair.

He feasts until her body goes taught with pleasure, every throb of her walls around his fingers a beat of reassurance to his buzzing mind.

She keens his name when she breathes again.

“I’m here, baby. I’m here,” he hurriedly tugs his boxer briefs down, pumping his thick, weeping cock.

He rubs the head of his cock through her folds before sinking in slowly, mouth dropping open a fraction with each inch that he gives her. 

Audrey’s back arches off the bed, hand flying to cover her mouth.

Frankie weights her form with his, kissing at her knuckles, begging for the moans trapped behind them.

She allows it.

Allows Frankie’s tongue into the wet of her mouth, still tasting of her.

Allows him to sit up and bring both of her legs together, holding her ankles with one massive hand as she reaches back to grip the edge of the bed. He guides one to each shoulder, fingers digging into the meat of her thighs. 

Knocking against something sacred.

And she’s trying. 

Trying not to scream for him.

Not to let slip how she needs him.

Here. Like this.

All ways. Always.

But Frankie settles one palm low on her stomach and applies pressure with the heel of it. Feeling the bulge of his cock as he fucks into her. 

A bit more pressure and the crown of his cock catches her g-spot. Over and over.

Sending sparks across her vision.

And Audrey loses it.

Composure.

Sanity.

The scream choked in the back of her throat.

The tenuous hold she had on the tide of pleasure that breaks over her now, causing frantic hands to reach for his wrist and nails to sink into his thigh.

Walls throbbing around his cock.

She’s probably woken the whole house.

Good.

Frankie’s jaw clenches through the pulsing of her cunt, thumb slipping through the slick he pulls from her core to wind against her clit.

He can’t keep the moans in now.

And so he gives them to her.

Leaning forward with one leg still over his shoulder to bite at her bottom lip.

“You’ve got one more in you,” he inhales through his teeth, “don’t you, baby? One more, come on baby.”

“Frankie,” she sobs, swallowing hard, “you know better,” she grips at the sweaty roots of his hair. “You know better than that, baby.”

And he growls from somewhere deep in his chest, sitting up enough to let her leg down.

But he lets it down across his body, slipping his cock from her heat and flipping her over onto her stomach with the momentum of it.

Audrey immediately braces herself on her forearms as Frankie thrusts back inside of her, the weight of his body falling against her not a moment after.

“I do know better,” he mashes his nose to her temple. “I know my baby likes it like this, doesn’t she?”

And it’s so sordid. The speed with which Frankie’s hips move now, skin slapping against hers. The way his tongue licks a stripe over her ear. The wet squelch of his cock through her slick.

The grunts he can’t help when he’s this close. 

Audrey grins with teeth in her bottom lip from under a cascade of black curls.

“I can feel it, you know,” Frankie purrs, beard scraping against her cheek before his nose follows suit. “Feel when I’m in that spot.” He sucks on her neck before sliding the flat of his teeth against her skin.

She lets out a sultry hum.

“Like it was made for me. So fucking tight around my cock.”

And all she can do is moan in response because he’s slowed his pace. There’s the slightest circle to his hips with every thrust.

Grinding deep—hard—as if to prove his point.

He’s doing it spectacularly.

“Jesus, Frankie,” she moans, head dropping into the space between her forearms. 

She’s warm gold in his hands, pliable and glistening. Bending with his attention. Made malleable with his want.

Something precious.

He props himself up with one arm and runs a reverent palm down her spine before fitting fingers to the curve of her waist and slipping under her hips.

She keens the moment he starts toying with her clit.

“Harder, Frankie,” she gasps with the breath that he hasn’t stolen from her ribcage.

He moans, a deep, cracked thing as he buries his face between her shoulder blades.

The snap of his hips jostles her against the mattress, slowly at first before Frankie’s rational brain shuts off.

He slips his fingers from her, reaching for her thigh and pulling it up towards her waist, fitting his knee behind it.

Hips grinding her clit against the bed.

His pace builds until his moans drown out her fractured sobs of pleasure, teeth scraping at her shoulder, her body blanketed by the breadth of his form. 

She slips one hand down to work her clit. “Frankie, yes, yes, ye—”

“C’mon, baby. Yeahhh—”

“Oh fuck. Frankie. Frankie, Frankie, Fr—” Her body bows, back colliding with his chest the moment he moves to kiss her with a open, uncoordinated mouth as her walls clench hard around him.

“‘M gonna fucking come,” he hisses in her ear. “Gonna come. Gonna—fucking—cover you with it.”

And she keens between the aftershocks and Frankie’s promise, burying her face in the tangle of sheets.

“You—yeahh—you want that? Want my come? Fuck, baby—” he chokes out.

And it takes everything he has to pull out of the grip of her cunt at the last minute, wrapping his fist around his heavy length, pumping his cock twice before thick ropes of come streak across her spine.

Frankie roars, rushing to slam his cock back inside of her, still throbbing with his release, body twitching and trembling with pleasure before he stills.

Audrey’s soft moans call him back to her. 

Fragile, wrecked things, tangled with heaving breath.

Frankie pulls out with a groan from them both as Audrey protests the loss of his heat at her back.

Until the hot wet of Frankie’s tongue slides over her skin.

He cleans her of his come with a greedy mouth, lips sucking up her spine as he does.

“Fuck,” she whispers.

Finally he returns his full weight to her, one hand splaying against her jaw and bringing her face back towards his.

He tastes of himself. 

Bitter salt and insatiable lips.

Audrey’s face drops back into the sheets when he lets her go, arching up against him with the need to feel his solid weight.

His warmth.

Frankie gently gathers her hair in one hand, peppering her neck and back with kisses before he rests his chin into the curve of one shoulder.

She’s molten now.

“W’s that okay?” He whispers.

And she’s incapable of doing anything more than letting out a throaty, satisfied hum and pressing a kiss to the scruff of his cheek.

Frankie musters enough strength to pull her with him back up to the head of the bed, tucking her against his chest, palm soothing over her back as she nuzzles her nose against his neck.

Audrey’s hazy, murmured, “you’re beautiful,” is the last thing either of them hear before sleep takes them again.

_____

THURSDAY

“Boys, we have a slight wrinkle. They’ve got three more jeeps out here than they did yesterday,” Audrey reports as she stares through a pair of binoculars from where she’s parked a mile away from the compound.

“Benny and I could slash those tires before heading in,” Santiago’s voice crackles over comms.

“Too risky and you wouldn’t have time. They’re on the opposite side of the compound from your entry point.”

“Problem is, more trucks means more men,” Benny chimes in.

“It also means unfamiliar faces. Might actually make it easier to slip in,” Frankie muses.

“I have a distraction in my back pocket, but report back when you’re in position,” Audrey radios.

“I bet you do.”

Frankie growls, “she means an RPG, Benny.”

They suffer through fifteen minutes of silence before Santi reports back. “You were right, Fish.”

“Let us walk right in,” Benny murmurs.

“Consensus seems to be they’re prepping to move the hostage in about an hour. We’ll ingratiate ourselves until then.”

“This’ll be easier than we thought, boys.”

Frankie hisses, Audrey shushes, and Santi shoots him a pointed stare.

“Don’t fuckin’ say that Benjamin.” Fish growls.

“It’s not done yet,” Audrey murmurs.

Ten minutes later, Benny asks, “Moose, did those Jeeps look armored?”

“Unfortunately for you, no.”

“Okay, we have a slight hiccup,” Benny’s voice is low. “Their planned extraction route has changed. They’re heading in the opposite direction from the airstrip.”

“Great,” Frankie mutters.

“So, my way,” Audrey chimes in.

“The planned route runs right past you, Moose,” Santiago adds.

“We could still take the risk. Break at the last minute?” Benny suggests.

“Too dangerous if those Jeeps aren’t armored. Aud can start knocking them off but they’ve got more men than we accounted for and we dunno how many vehicles they’re going to mobilize,” Fish scratches at his chin and reaches for a map.

“Moose, that Rover have a turbo on it?”

“It’s got two, Benny. But we still can’t make that run to the safehouse. The jungle’s too dense and they’ll be too hot on our tail the minute they get wise. We have to get the hostage into the chopper and Frankie’s gotta make the final run.”

And it’s like she and Frankie have the same idea at the same time.

“So, this is risky—” Fish starts.

“The beach.” Audrey says.

“Think that would give you enough space?”

“If you can be there the minute we break through.”

“I can.”

Audrey’s quiet for a moment, running through contingencies. “Okay boys, we’re gonna do a live handoff.”

“You’re not gonna stop, Aud?” Santi asks, voice jumping half an octave.

“I don’t think we’ll have time. Think you and Benny can handle that switch?”

“You hop in the bird and I can hand her up,” Benny mumbles to Santi.

“Yeah,” Pope nods with bright eyes. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

“We’re good if you both are,” Benny reports.

“Frankie, you good?” Audrey asks.

“I’m good. Give me a five minute warning before hostage extraction, I’ll get this up and hold the area.”

“Okay. Santi and Benny, you come straight to me. No sense in taking men out if they’re headed this direction anyway, it’ll just tip them off. But that means you boys are gonna have to floor it. Give me as much lead time as you can.”

“Done.” Benny answers.

“I’ll drive. You get in the back with the girl,” Pope nods.

“Yeah.”

“Anyone have any questions?” Audrey asks.

She gets three ‘no’s.’

“Everyone clear on their role?”

She gets three ‘yes’s.’

“If anyone has any doubts, speak up now. If not, everyone confirm, individually, that this plan is a go.”

Without hesitation, everyone answers ‘confirmed.’

“Alright boys. Benny and Pope, are you both in position to start the clock?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’m officially marking five minutes until extraction. Frankie, get her up.”

“Roger.”

Ninety seconds later Frankie confirms he’s in the air and has cleared the airstrip.

“Benny and Pope, you’re cleared to move in accordance with the timeframe.”

They’re out and in the back of the Jeep in another seven minutes. An unknown man slips into the passenger seat thinking he’ll hitch a ride with the boys, and Benny covers the girl’s eyes and ears with two massive hands as Pope fires a silenced shot at the man’s temple before he floors the truck.

They catch up to Audrey in another two minutes.

“They’re sixty seconds behind us,” Benny blurts out as he opens the door, immediately grabbing the girl out of the backseat. “Sorry about this, sweetheart,” he mumbles as he picks her up and hurriedly transfers her into the Rover, sliding in behind her and slamming the door.

She’s quiet and pliant, but there’s panic in her eyes. 

“Santi, there’s two minutes on that,” Audrey simultaneously tosses a live charge to Santi who slaps it onto the Jeep, right over the gas tank, before he slips into the passenger seat, slamming his door as Audrey hits the accelerator.

“Frankie, we’re on the move. ETA to the beach is seven minutes.” Santiago reports.

Audrey catches the little girl’s wide brown eyes in the mirror.

“Hey Diana,” she says with far more calm in her voice than she has any right to have. “I’m Moose. This is Pope,” she gestures to Santi who turns around and offers the girl a winning smile, “and that’s Ben next to you.”

“I know all of this is a lot. But we’re here to get you home.” Santi assures her.

“You ever been on a helicopter, Diana?” Audrey asks again and the boys pick up on where she’s going with it.

“One time,” the girl answers in a soft voice.

“That’s awesome!” Benny chimes in. “Did you like it?”

She nods.

“Well, there’s a helicopter coming around just for you that’s going to fly you to your parents.”

“Okay.”

“We’re gonna help get you inside, but we’re gonna need you to be really brave, okay?” Santi says. “The guy flying the helicopter is called Catfish, he’s my best friend. And I’m going to be with you the whole time.”

She nods, eyes still wide with fear.

“We’re gonna have to move pretty fast once we get down to the beach okay?” Benny says as they hear the charge Santi set go off in the background.

“We’re gonna crawl out through there,” Pope points at the sunroof.

And she starts shaking her head ‘no.’

“Hey, Diana?”

This from Audrey.

“I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

“Really?”

“I really do!”

She brightens a bit at that.

“I know you can do this. And these boys are going to keep you safe, that’s what they do best. Keep people safe. And then in less than an hour, you’ll be with your parents.” She meets the girl’s eyes in the mirror again. “I promise.”

“You pinky swear?”

Audrey laughs and reaches one gloved hand behind her.

“I pinky swear.”

And she feels a small tug at her hand.

Benny holds his pinky out and Diana wraps her small finger around it before doing the same with Santi.

“Frankie, beach in one,” Audrey reports.

“Roger,” he returns over coms and thirty seconds later they hear the thump of rotor blades. “They’re about two minutes behind you.”

“That’s your ride, Diana,” Santi flips the switch to open the sunroof as he crouches on the passenger seat.

“Diana?” Audrey asks.

“Yeah?”

“Keep your eyes shut real tight for me until Pope tells you to open them again, okay?”

And the little girl shuts her eyes and covers her ears as Audrey wrenches the wheel to the right and hits sand.

“Frankie, I’m going to aim for 60 mph, or I’ll run out of beach too quickly,” she reports.

“Roger.”

And Audrey lines the Rover up on firm sand as the thump of rotor blades grows louder. Wind and sand whip around the cabin as Santiago climbs out of the sunroof.

When Frankie gets the bird close enough, the downdraft from the rotor blades keeps sand in the cabin to a minimum, but creates a wake around the Rover.

Audrey’s only able to see about a hundred feet in front of her at any given time.

“Frankie, my vis is shit, callout if we’re gonna hit anything.”

“You’re clear for at least two miles if you hold it straight. Rock outcrop that would take some maneuvering just short of mile three.”

Two minutes. They have two minutes.

Santiago grips the roof rack in a crouch until Fish brings the helicopter skids within two feet of the truck. 

He easily launches himself onto the skids, Frankie expertly accounting for the impact. 

The bird doesn’t even rock.

Audrey chances a glance up at the chopper.

This is gonna work.

She gestures for Benny to get into position. 

He urges Diana onto the front seat, and mercifully she doesn’t put up a fight.

Benny climbs onto the center console, but the moment he sticks his head out of the sunroof, bullets start flying.

Santiago instantly reacts, laying down suppressive fire as Benny hoists himself up, hooking one foot under a bar of the roof rack, knee on sunroof glass to straddle the open space before he reaches down into the cabin, hoisting Diana up off of her seat with a hand under each arm, his back to the gunfire, shielding her.

Immediately she clings to his neck.

It’s a small blessing when bullets pause.

They don’t want to hit the girl, and Audrey mutters “thank fuck,” under her breath.

Benny assesses their angle and makes eye contact with Santiago who lays his rifle down. 

“Close the sunroof!” Benny yells over rotor blades and wind, and immediately Audrey reaches up to comply, giving Benny more space for solid footing.

It takes less than three seconds for the motor to slide glass closed, but Audrey swears it takes at least a year off of her life.

Benny’s dialed in and readjusts in an instant, standing to his full height.

Frankie and Audrey hold the vehicles dead even with each other, hurtling across the beach at highway speed.

Benny doesn’t hesitate, putting one foot on the skid of the chopper before gently loosening Diana’s hold on him. Santi puts a foot on the skid next to Benny’s and gets well within arms reach. 

Benny still holds Diana close to his body, Pope instead reaching for her.

“On three!” Benny yells, blonde hair whipping around his face.

“ONE.”

Santiago places his hands under Benny’s, making sure he has a firm grip on the girl.

“TWO.”

Benny holds her out just a little farther.

They lock eyes and both nod.

“THREE.”

Benny’s hands drop away and Santiago pulls her in tight to his chest, falling backward into the helicopter as Benny takes his foot off the skid.

“FISH, WE’RE CLEAR GET OUTTA HERE,” Benny crouches down on the roof, screaming into comms as Audrey flips the switch to open the sunroof again.

Benny drops back into the Rover as Frankie pulls hard to the right, peeling out over the ocean and out of range of the bullets that have once again started flying.

Benny reaches through the cabin to grab his rifle off of the back seat and immediately starts firing out of the sunroof as Audrey slows down enough to turn around without rolling the Rover, bringing the truck to a stop.

There’s half a mile between them and the rocks.

Thirty seconds.

She scrambles into the back seat and reaches into the trunk before slowly poking her head up in front of Benny.

Audrey shuffles to the right for clearance, stands on the back seat, and slings a metal tube up over her shoulder.

Half a second later she launches off an RPG.

Anything that remains when the smoke clears is easy work.

Benny takes out three men and Audrey picks off the tires of the one Jeep that made it through.

Everything finally falls silent, save for the muted sounds of the ocean and the crackling of fire—dulled by their ringing ears. 

Audrey reaches for the transmit button on her comms.

“Beach is clear.”

She glances back at where Benny is standing on the passenger seat behind her.

Audrey reaches out a hand.

And Benny shakes it with a laugh.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, Benjamin.”

“Roger that, Moose. Roger. That.”

_____

Benny tries to hail Pope and Fish over comms periodically on their way back to their safehouse, but between the distance and the terrain, he doesn’t get anything back.

He tries calling and texting, but nothing gets through.

“They’ll have ditched the bird, and it’s probably four hours by car,” Audrey muses as she pulls into the safehouse drive.

“So maybe 6:30? 7?”

“Probably about that.”

“‘Kay.”

But the pauses between their words are thick with worry despite everything still going according to plan. 

They both shower and change into comfortable clothes, Audrey calling in a status report and cleanup while Benny makes hotdogs for their late lunch. 

They fall into conversation that’s far more comfortable now.

He pours Audrey a gin and soda around 5 pm when he can tell she’s still on edge. 

He fixes one for himself too and suggests they sit on the front porch.

6:30 pm comes and goes and Audrey parks herself on the hood of the Rover to light up a smoke.

Benny sits down next to her, propping sandaled feet up on the bullbar.

“Want one?” She angles her packet of Parliaments in his direction.

“Nah,” he politely shakes his head. “Don’t smoke. But you’re good, I don’t mind.”

And she huffs a laugh because Benny’s the one who followed her over here.

He tells her fight night stories to pass the time as she chain smokes, hoping to distract her enough to soothe her buzzing nerves. 

And his.

Audrey pulls a sweatshirt on to guard against the chill.

When 7:30 rolls around, Benny slips a cigarette out of the box and asks if she can give him a light.

Audrey smirks and acquiesces. 

At 8:15pm, Audrey’s phone lights up, notifying her that something has tripped the perimeter alarm.

She quickly unlocks it and holds it up between her and Benny as she presses play on the video.

It’s a car they don’t expect, and in the fading light, it’s too dark to make out who’s inside. 

Benny calmly slides off the hood and opens the Rover, tossing Audrey a rifle and grabbing a pistol for himself before quietly shutting the door. They move in silence to meet behind the truck, staring through the cabin out through the front windscreen, waiting for the car to appear.

It slips calmly into the drive as they both hold guns at the ready. 

Santiago steps out first with a smile on his face. The moment Frankie appears from behind the driver’s seat, Audrey drops her rifle and takes off running.

“Audrey,” Frankie sighs as she collides with his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. He wraps one arm around her back and cups the base of her skull, pressing her tight to him.

“The FUCK took you so long?” Benny booms as he lays his pistol on the hood.

“Stopped for coffee,” Santiago quips, giving Benny a hug and a pat on the back. “Nah, their security detail had car trouble, so we swapped them out so they could move. Frankie fixed this piece of shit up, but it took some time.”

“Gave Benny and I some time to bond,” Audrey moves to give Santi a quick hug now as Benny wraps Frankie in his arms and thumps him on the back.

“That was some real Fast and Furious shit, boys!” Benny whoops.

“Yeah it was,” Frankie returns to Audrey’s side, arm draped around her shoulders.

A smile of pride playing on his mouth.

“Y’all hungry? We’ve got hot dogs,” Benny throws a thumb over his shoulder at the house.

“Fucking starving.” Frankie laughs.

_____

Mirth and liquor flow freely for the rest of the night.

“Okay, so wait, wait. Y’all gave me shit, but Benny doesn’t have a callsign—” Audrey points at the man in question..

“Benny’s callsign is ‘Benny’,” Santi swallows a mouthful of whiskey.

“Sorry, what?”

“Well,” Frankie braces both hands on his thighs with a grin. “This one—this one ti—” but he can’t get it out without dissolving into a fit of laughter. “Benny is ‘Benny’—like Benadryl.”

“Yeah, walk me through that,” she rakes a hand through her curls.

“He got stung by a bee one day, took two Benadryl and slept through an entire training exercise.” Santi is grinning so hard that his face hurts.

“Benadryl can do that, yeah.”

“No. Babe,” Frankie laughs, resting a hand on her shoulder, “he slept through the training exercise WHILE he was out in the field.”

Benny is blushing now.

“He would come to enough to get into a helo, but then he’d fall asleep. Strapped into the seat,” Santiago gestures at his chest through howls of laughter.

“He got out of the bird, got into position on the ground with his rifle like he was about to line up a shot and fell the fuck asleep again,” Frankie wheezes, bracing his hand on Santi’s shoulder as he folds forward in his chair.

And she can’t help but laugh at the sight of Frankie having lost all composure.

“Fucking blanks flying everywhere,” Pope makes a cutting motion with his hand, “my man is OUT COLD.”

“There are pictures,” Frankie wipes at his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” Benny grumbles, but there’s a smile hiding just behind his lips. “I assume you know about these two idiots.” This to Audrey.

“I do, yeah,” she smiles as she takes a sip of gin.

“You gotta tell me how you got Moose now.”

“Oh,” Santiago reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants for his phone, finding the picture before sliding it over to Benny. “She saved our asses by nailing that shot.”

“Oh, cool.”

Benny isn’t quite impressed.

“Through night vision from a mile away, Benny.” Frankie adds.

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline now and he holds Santiago’s phone closer to his face.

“Damn, Moose. That’s sick,” he slides the phone back to Santi, “thought it was because of your tattoo.”

“YOU’VE SEEN IT?” Santiago screams.

Benny holds his hands up in front of his chest, “she had a tank top on earlier, I didn’t know it was some kind of secret.”

“It’s not, Benny. Santi just thinks it is,” she winks as one hand idly winds in Frankie’s curls.

“Unbelievable,” Santiago shakes his head.

“I like you, Moose.” Benny holds his glass up in her direction.

She taps the side of hers to his, “I like you too, Benny.”

“You do excellent work,” he swallows a sip, “clean, precise, efficient. Think on your feet. Hell of a shot. You wind this one up,” he points to Santi, “and this one is in love with you,” he gestures towards Frankie. 

And Audrey hides it in the moment, pulling her hand away from Frankie’s hair under the guise of reaching for her glass.

The truth is.

Benny’s just said the last thing she wants to hear.

next

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[nerdieforpedro]

VII - Eyes

Only Parts of you Mr. Morales Series

Frankie Morales x Belinda (plus size OFC)

This fic and blog is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 423

Warnings: ANGST, implied sexual activity, mild intoxication

Summary: Frankie's eyes used to hide his emotions, but now they expose them.

Notes: The next to last chapter! I maybe was a tad evil in this one, but it will be fine. I think. Ask me later when I finish the finale.

Main Masterlist/ Frankie "Catfish" Morales Masterlist/ Only Parts of you Mr. Morales Series

Frankie prides himself on being able to keep a neutral face. He needed to during his time in the service and even before, he wasn’t one to show his emotions openly to those he didn’t trust. It’s why he’s so emotive with Pope, Will and Benny. They know him, they’ve shared the trenches and blood. Come out on the other side and lived to tell the tale. It doesn’t mean he didn’t feel though. The problem is that Francisco Morales carries his emotions tenaciously. They follow him. The good and bad. He’s often told that sometimes he can explode and go to the darkest of places quickly. The former special forces soldier is as quick to recover and go back to being jovial. 

Over the years, he’s evened out and keeps more of an equilibrium about him. It’s why he moves carefully now and at times worries that he is too distant from people, even his friends. But he laughed with her, and found himself venturing to her home, soon memorizing different routes from work, their favorite bar and the like. His body language now remained relaxed, save for his eyes that threaten to expose what he really thinks. Belinda captures his dark orbs daily. He’s always observing her, keeps track of when she changes her hairstyle, fingernail colors, the scar on her knee from hitting that diving board when she was ten, the stretch marks on her stomach and hips that he often holds during their evenings together, bodies entwined in one fashion or another. 

His eyes watch her as she sleeps on her chest. He has noticed though that something is a little different about her when he watches her dress in the mornings. Belinda has been wearing clothes that are a bit more loose. That doesn't hug her stomach as much. She says that it’s nothing, but Frankie knows she's hiding something. He’ll give her time to tell him. He doesn’t want to force the issues, to lose her now that he’s finally happy and has the life he’s wanted for the last four years. 

While he’s explaining to Will what’s going on, Morales’ eyes are darting around concerned that he’s paranoid and maybe he’s trying to ruin a stabilizing force in his life. Will tells him he’s not crazy and to just try talking to her again.

It’s when Frankie goes home with a bit of a little buzz and his mind spinning that he sees Belinda sitting on the sofa waiting for him.

”Francisco. We need to talk.”

VI - Arms VIII- Finale

The ones who are lost in those chocolate orbs 👀:

@yorksgirl @megamindsecretlair @guelyury @soft-persephone @legendary-pink-dot

@bitchwitch1981 @katw474 @rosecentury @rhoorl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@trulybetty @maggiemayhemnj @schnarfer @rav3n-pascal22 @bishtrouille

@alltheotps @pedroshotwifey

[feelyourhearttakingroot]

The Reader's Guide to Avoiding Redfly (and how to have a good time doing it)

“How’re you doing, kid?” Tom murmured in your ear. Your skin hadn’t started crawling yet, but it definitely would soon.

“Redfly, leave the girl alone.” 

A third voice - the voice of God himself, if it meant that Tom would let you go. 

Summary: Your friend Dina is dating Benny Miller, and drags you along to one of his fights before a night at a bar. His friends meet you there - Tom ‘Redfly’ Davis, who is too busy trying it on with you to think about his wife; Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia, who is a god made flesh; and Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales, who agrees to help keep you out of Redfly’s clutches. But Frankie is not without his own charm...

Relationships: Frankie Morales x reader, side Santiago Garcia x Original Female Character, side Benny Miller x Original Female Character

Rating: First chapter is Mature, but it will be getting Explicit after that... 

Author’s note: I saw Triple Frontier last week for the first time and it has occupied my every waking thought since then. This is my first ‘x reader’ fic, so feedback is appreciated. Benny is my darling boy and I want to write him a loving af relationship even if it’s in the bg of this fic. I also don’t mean to step on toes but Redfly is the worst man and deserved to die a lot earlier than he did in the film. I am also obviously obsessed with Frankie Morales. Sorry if the formatting is fucked, this is the first fic I’ve posted directly to Tumblr in many’a.

Warnings: 18+ for frequent language, she/her pronouns, future smut but this chapter is just teasing.

Read on AO3.

Chapter One

The Fight

“The fight ends at 9pm, so we’ll be good to get to the bar by 9.30,” Dina said, leaning to within a hair's breadth of the bathroom mirror. Your arms twitched, hands opening and closing as you watched the safety pin come even closer to her eyeball.

“Dina, do you have to- the fight?”

“Yes, I need to separate my eyelashes, and yes, the fight.” She said, tongue peeping out between her lips. “Benny is fighting and he’s going to come with us to the bar afterwards.”

Your heart sank, just a little. Benny was a great guy, and you were happy for Dina, but it was always harder to get into bars when Benny ‘Brick Shithouse’ Miller rocked up with facial wounds and an ego after inevitably winning the fight. 

Apparently their post-fight sex was insane.

“So it’s you, me, and Benny?” you asked flatly, and she rolled her eyes in a way that made your hands clench into fists, with a vivid mental image of the pin sinking into her eyeball. She ignored you, of course, and started on the bottom lid.

“No, you prick,” she said, teasing each lash apart. She paused, and winked at you through the mirror “Ha. Prick! Get it? Sandy, Amy and Kelly are joining us - and Benny is bringing his friends.”

“William and Tom?” You were trying so hard not to be a downer, you really were, but you’d met William and Tom before and it was not a great experience. William - Benny’s brother - was aesthetically pleasing, and a lovely guy, but way too earnest about the purity of combat, while Tom was… a douche. A douche who clearly enjoyed his nights away from the wife a little too much. “Great.”

“Not just Will and Tom,” she chided, finally putting down the pin and fluttering her eyelashes at her reflection. “A few of his old squad guys are coming too.”

“OK then,” you said, and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Dina called.

“To get another drink.”

Based on the MMA prelude, you decided to rethink your outfit to something a bit less… showy, and had poured yourself into a skintight skirt with a shirt that helped accentuate your decolletage just right. So right, in fact, that you’d forgone a sensible coat in favour of a leather jacket that didn’t even close properly. The clothes did little to shield you from the cold, which explained why you had chugged nearly half a bottle of Smirnoff in the cab over. 

-----------------

Dina looked every inch the fighter’s girlfriend, she really did. You didn’t even know she owned a faux-fur coat. Her meticulously-separated eyelashes were currently fluttered together, shielding her eyes from her cigarette smoke. 

Not that it helped. Your buzz was fading fast with every second you stood out in the freezing cold parking lot.

Sandy hadn’t bothered to change her outfit - “Fuck it, it can’t be any dirtier than the bar.” - and was leaning against the arena wall wearing a mini dress that practically showed what she had eaten for breakfast. The woman had legs up to her neck, and more than one man had slowed his passage into the arena to get a good look. Sandy, with legs that long since she was fifteen, and a face that had been beautiful her whole life, flipped each one off with a casual laziness you could never hope to emulate. 

The three of you were standing outside the arena waiting for Tom and the others to arrive. The crowd was known to get rowdy, and Benny had been very firm with Dina about going in with his friends. William was already inside with Benny, prepping him for the fight.

It was so cold you were nearly tempted to ask Dina for a pull of her cigarette, just to feel some warm air, when -

“Dee!”

Your face locked into a grimace, and you looked down to kick a loose pebble from under your shoe, trying to regain control of your facial muscles by the time Tom got close.

“Tommy!” Dina yelled. “You’re late, what the hell?”

“Don’t blame me,” Tom said, “Blame these assholes.”

Two sets of denim-wrapped legs stepped into your view, and you huffed out a little sigh before looking up. Tom was standing in front of you, with his friend on his right. 

His friend. Who was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. He smiled at you, and you felt a small laugh escape you. 

What was that face? He looked like a Latino George Clooney. How did he get taken seriously in life?

“Hey, tiger,” Tom said to you, his lopsided smile showing a little too much teeth on one side.

“Hey… Tom.” you replied, raising a hand in greeting. He made a little ‘pfft’ sound and pulled you in for a hug, enveloping you in the smell of… dear god, was that Axe? 

You heard the crunch of gravel, and a movement out of the corner of your eye told you that the devilishly handsome man was currently introducing himself to Sandy. 

Probably wouldn’t have worked out with us anyway.

“How’re you doing, kid?” Tom murmured in your ear. Your skin hadn’t started crawling yet, but it definitely would soon.

“Redfly, leave the girl alone.” 

A third voice - the voice of God himself, if it meant that Tom would let you go. 

“This is my girl right here, Frankie.” Tom said, and the proprietary tone in his voice made your stomach turn. You should have just met them at the bar.

“Crazy, I thought your girl was sitting at home looking after your daughter and -” the second half of the sentence was in mumbled Spanish, and you heard a bark of laughter from the handsome man. A quick, rough pat on the back and Tom released you, already walking into the building as if nothing had happened.

The speaker was standing in front of you; a tall-ish man wearing a blue plaid shirt over a grey tank top, with a beat-up baseball cap on his head. Just as the phrase ‘hillbilly trucker’ crossed your mind, every thought in your head promptly vanished on looking up into his face. A pair of warm brown eyes were gazing down at you, creasing gently at the corners. He wasn’t built like Tom or William; they slanted more towards beefcake, where this guy was toned and slim. He was older than you - not a surprise, William and Tom were in at least their mid-40s - but it was a very manageable older. Unruly, curling brown hair peeked out from under his cap, and the man smiled, a shadow of a dimple appearing on his cheek.

The other guy was crazy good-looking in a movie-star way, the sort of hot that had made you laugh because it was almost unreal. This guy was the perfect side of handsome, mortal enough to take your breath away just a little and not make you feel stupid about it.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Frankie.”

Maybe it was the dimples, maybe it was the fact that he had just saved you from a fate worse than death, or maybe the cold had finally gotten to your brain. Whatever it was, you barely knew what you were saying until you’d said it:

“And I am so fucking yours.”

So much for not feeling stupid. His smile widened, and your heartbeat quickened just a bit.

“Ignore Redfly,” he said. “He just doesn’t have good manners.”

Another burst of Spanish from behind you, from the dark-eyed Adonis near the door, and Frankie replied in kind, with an evocative hand gesture that you were pretty sure meant ‘fuck off’.

You finally turned to get a good look at the other man. He was standing in front of your friends, angled towards Sandy in a way that boded well for her. He was terribly good-looking.

“Hey, how’re you doing?” he leaned toward you, and took your hand in his. “Santiago Garcia.”

The man was on another level. You felt like you were meeting a politician. You told him your name as if in a dream. 

“That’s a beautiful name,” he said, looking into your soul, and you felt that laugh bubble up again. This was too much all at once.

Dina blew out one last plume of smoke, and threw her cigarette butt on the ground.

“Come on guys, it’s fucking freezing out here.”

----------------------------------------

The arena was chaos. Tom was nowhere to be seen, but he could have been standing two feet from you and you wouldn’t have seen him. He could have been behind you.

As the thought crossed your mind, a hand came to rest on your hip and you jumped sideways, ready to kick Tom in the fucki-

It was Frankie, hands suddenly up and visible, mouth framing a ‘whoa’ that you could never hear over the din of the crowd. You grimaced, mouthing sorry.

He gave you a tight-lipped smile, uncomfortable, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He craned his neck to look over the crowd, toward the ring, and you stepped quickly toward him. Your hand raised, like you had the right answer in a classroom, and you tilted your mouth up towards Frankie’s ear. He scrunched his face and bent his head towards yours.

“Sorry,” you said into his ear, trying not to deafen him at this range. He smelled warm, and clean, a welcome respite from the arena’s smell of old beer and sweat. “I thought it might be…” one of your best friends, whom I loathe. “... a creep.” you finished lamely.

When you pulled away, he was looking at you so intently that a blush started to creep up your neck. Hands still in his pockets, he rocked back and forth on his heels as he processed what you said. His tongue worked in his mouth, pushing out his cheek, before he winked ever so slightly, and nodded.

He knew. He damn well knew.

Frankie grinned and pointed towards the ring, to where your friends had disappeared, before nudging you forward.

------------------------------------

Dina and the others were sitting ringside, by Benny’s corner. Dina had shrugged her coat in the sticky closeness of the arena, and was adjusting her top for maximum cleavage. Beside her was Sandy, deep in conversation with Santiago, and Tom sat beside Santiago next to an empty chair.

The single empty chair. 

Fucks sake.

Tom saw you both coming, and had a look of fake disappointment on his face that your hands twitched to slap off. He held his hands up in defeat, before patting his thigh. A quick scan showed that this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in the arena; the place was jammed so tightly that you counted at least seven people on laps in this section alone. A fire hazard, and a pain in the ass. 

You’re fucking kidding me.

You went to take a step, and felt a hand grip your arm. Frankie was sliding past you on your right, pivoting to sit in the empty chair. A shit-eating grin slid onto Tom’s face, and he patted his thigh again.

You’re fucking kidding me. 

Frankie still held your arm loosely in his left hand. Reaching over Tom, he nudged Santiago, who broke off from his conversation long enough to pass him a beer. Settling back into his seat, Frankie spread his legs a little too wide and steered you into the space between them. 

He looked up at you under the brim of his cap, his face out of Tom’s eyeline. The corners of his mouth curved downward and one shoulder shrugged, as if to say ‘Why not?’.

Lightheaded, floating on a mental chant of fucking hell fucking hell fucking hell fucking hell, you perched on Frankie’s knee, your knees pressing against his other leg. A quick glance at Tom’s face nearly made you yelp. The ham-coloured man was staring sullenly out over the ring, lips pursed around his mouthful of beer. The smile was nowhere to be seen.

Frankie shifted slightly, and with one hand on your waist pulled you closer until you were sitting mid-thigh. When he was satisfied, his hand moved to settle against your lower back, keeping you upright. The shape of the seat had his body angled away from you, allowing you to sit upright without being nestled against him. He leaned towards Tom and said something in his ear, something you could barely hear over the din. It was as if he’d forgotten you were there.

But not quite. Slowly, as if you were a wild animal he was trying to tame, his hand started to move in gradual, broad strokes, forward and back, forward and back.

Your stomach muscles locking tight was your only visible reaction, and you thanked baby Jesus and all the angels in heaven that Frankie couldn’t feel the way your pulse had suddenly picked up. Though that might not be far off; there was a warm throbbing between your legs that definitely hadn’t been there two minutes ago.

Forward and back. Forward and back.

This was totally normal. This happened to you every day. Every day you met hot guys and sat on their laps. Every day you got mildly turned on by hot guys stroking your back.

Looking over at Dina, the two of you locked eyes. Her grin was positively wolfish.

Fuck off, you mouthed.

You looked around, hoping that the people-watching fodder available would help take your mind off the hot man you were sitting on and what his hand was - 

As if Frankie could hear your thoughts, the rhythm of his strokes changed. Now, instead of moving forward and back, his palm started sliding up and down, with every pass downward bringing his hand closer and closer to the curve of your ass.

For a fraction of a second, your breath caught in your throat, and the pulse between your legs kicked up a notch. Trying to keep your cool, you casually - so casually! - looked over at Frankie.

Still absorbed in conversation with Tom. Fine. He clearly had no idea what he was doing, no idea of the effect he was having.

Your awareness was steadily narrowing down to where his hand touched you, to the vague sensation of warmth that each pass left on your skin. Reaching the hem of your jacket, he paused almost imperceptibly, before reaching under the leather to rest on the back of your shirt.

Dear god, were you disappointed he wasn’t touching your ass? Were you actually sad that this stranger wasn’t - 

A radiating sensation on your back, so warm and firm, and suddenly you could feel every little movement his hand made, the way his fingers were flexing against your skin so gently - 

Air you didn’t realise you had been holding escaped your lungs in a whoosh. 

“Getting bored up there, tiger?” Tom’s expression wasn’t as friendly as it normally was, and you were reminded why all of this was happening. This was purely for Tom’s benefit. 

“No, it’s fine. It’s…” you looked down at Frankie as he took a sip of his beer. His eyes met yours over the rim of his beer cup, and a smile crept across your face. When the cup left his lips, you took it deftly from his fingers and lifted it to your mouth. Your gaze didn’t leave his. Tom may as well have been part of the furniture.

The beer was not good, but you finished it, and ran your tongue over your lips. Frankie’s eyes tracked the movement, and you felt his hand pause, felt his fingers splay wide across the small of your back.

“It’s great,” you said, winking down at him. “But I think we need another drink.”

You placed a hand on his knee for leverage, and stood. Dina saluted you with her nearly-empty drink, and tapped at the low liquid level with one long fingernail. You nodded, and flashed the OK sign.

A broad chest blocked your view, and the smell of Axe surrounded you. You glanced up at Tom, who was shaking his own empty cup. 

“I’ll come too,” he said. “I could do with another-”

“It’s cool, man,” Frankie stood, easily slotting himself between the two of you, and gently but firmly took hold of your shoulders as he turned to the exit. “I got it.”

Empty cups and debris were strewn across the aisle, and you were beginning to regret wearing your heels for what was shaping up to be a fucking obstacle course. But you felt Frankie’s presence behind you, and if you put a little more sway into your walk than normal, so what?

Between a few stragglers at the bar, there was a gap just wide enough for the two of you to lean against the counter. You rested on your forearms, and flagged down the bartender.

------------------------------------

“Two beers, and a whiskey and coke.” 

“Make it four,” Frankie said. “I know it may not seem like it, but it is better to get Redfly liquored up. After about,” - his hand made a see-saw motion - “six drinks? He’s going to get real maudlin, start missing his wife, and go home.”

“Oh, yeah,” you replied, “He’s really missing his wife when he’s trying to put his hand up my skirt.”

His eyes flickered up and down your body, and he cleared his throat. One hand came up to scratch at his moustache, before smoothing it back down. 

“You know, I don’t blame him,” he said. “That skirt looks great on you.”

A low warmth pooled in your stomach, and you smiled. He smiled back, those beautiful eyes twinkling as he turned around to face the arena, elbows back on the bar.

“If I… go too far, in there,” he said, face suddenly serious. “You can just punch me in the face. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

The bartender laid your whiskey and coke down in front of you, and pulled out two cups for the beer. 

“Two more of those, please,” you told her, and took a sip of your drink. You knew you were a bit of a savage for drinking whiskey with coke, but your sweet tooth demanded nothing less. “Frankie, I’m not really OK with the idea of ‘being saved’.”

“That’s fair,” Frankie turned to the bar, and rapped a quick tattoo on the wood. “When we get back in there, you take the seat and I’ll -”

“But,” you raised a finger. “Your lap is pretty comfortable. And if you’re OK with having my ass on your knee all night, then I’m happy to stay there.”

A laugh escaped him, and you found yourself appreciating the way his moustache framed his lips so perfectly. 

“I think you’d be hard pushed to find a man who wouldn’t be OK with that deal.”

The bartender laid down four cups of beer. “$25.60.” 

Frankie laid out three $10 bills, and pulled the cups closer. 

“Do you think you could make sure Tom doesn’t put his hand up my skirt?”

He was intent on arranging the cups in a way he could carry them, to the point that you thought he hadn’t heard you. Just as you were about to repeat yourself, he flashed you a wicked look.

“Well sweetheart,” he smiled, “I’ll just have to get my hand there first.”

------------------------------------

As soon as you sat back down, it was like a switch had flipped. Your conversation at the bar had been light, to the point where you’d nearly forgotten that you’d actually been turned on a little at sitting on Frankie’s lap.

When you got back to your seats, and Frankie had handed off the beers he was carrying, he sat and pulled you down onto his lap in one fluid movement. No more tentative movements; he held your waist firmly, and pulled you even closer than before. And now, not only was his hand stroking your back again - he had put it under your jacket straight away - but his other arm was now resting on your leg. His beer cup sat on your knee, below where the hem of your skirt rode up, and he rotated it gently on your bare skin, almost teasing you with the cool feeling of the condensation on the base.

It drove you just a little short of wild. Though part of you wanted to shift against his thigh, wanted to feel some pressure right where an ache was steadily building between your legs, you kept it together fairly admirably. 

A wet patch on Frankies jeans probably wouldn't go down too well anyway.

A murmur from the crowd rolled towards the ring, and Pantera’s heavy guitar riff blasted through the speakers.

Benny was here.

------------------------------------

Ringside seats were… certainly something.

The smell of blood hummed in your nostrils, and you felt the impact of every punch. 

Benny was a monster. He had swaggered into the arena, head and shoulders above everyone, and proceeded to hammer the shit out of his opponent once the bell rang. Watching the way Dina was looking at him, you were very, very glad they were going back to Benny’s place tonight.

The six of you were standing at the ring edge, screaming and roaring with the crowd. Your blood was singing. Sitting on Frankie’s lap, his hands leaving trails of fire wherever they touched you, had rattled you something fierce, and the adrenaline from the fight was getting to you too. You didn’t think your pulse had slowed for about ten minutes, and you were breathing like you were climbing a mountain.

It was the last minute of the last round, and Benny was flagging. 

You guessed. You really had no idea who was doing better, both fighters were covered in blood and looked tired as fuck.

Santiago, Dina and Tom were rattling the cage, howling through the wire at Benny. The man was intent on his opponent, never taking his eyes off him. 

As you watched, Benny did an odd movement, stepping back, rotating his shoulders and head as his feet danced. You heard roars come from your friends, but were completely lost. 

“He’s about to kick the guy’s head off his fucking shoulders,” Frankie’s voice was low, and close. You felt his nose brush the outer shell of his ear, and you suppressed a shiver as his breath ghosted over you. He was standing behind you, so close that you felt his warmth up your body from ankle to neck. He reached over your shoulder, and pointed up at Benny’s right foot.

“You see that?” 

Benny’s foot was moving in a fan shape on the floor of the ring. He dodged as much as he needed to to evade blows, but whenever he was still his foot moved in that fan shape. 

“Why is he waiting?” Turning your head, your nose brushed against Frankie’s jawline. He smiled down at you.

“Not long now, sweetheart,” he said. “Watch.”

He stepped closer until he stood flush against your back, and crossed his arms over your chest to grip his own elbows. His beard brushed against your cheekbone, and you found yourself nestling further into his hold. He was just so warm and solid and - 

Benny moved like lightning. His opponent came too close, ever so slightly unguarded, and Benny pivoted on his left foot and -

“Fuck!” you screamed. Benny’s opponent hit the floor, and the arena erupted.

===> Chapter Two

[need-a-fugue]

Trustworthy (Chapter 5)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Violence, language

His shoes come into view long before you hear his voice, heavy, mud-laden boots stepping confidently in front of you, one tapping out an impatient rhythm for a moment before nudging harshly at your toe. You pull your head from between your legs, plant shaky elbows on your knees, cringe once again at the dull rumble pulsating along your ass and thighs as the chopper continues to climb into the sky… and you glare up at the man before you.

Santi merely smirks as he reaches out a hand to lean into the wall of the helicopter, looming smugly over the top of you. “How you doing?” he asks with a teasing lilt.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this unmedicated,” you seethe. “I hate flying.” He knows this. Of course, he knows this. And if the overt quirk of his lips tells you anything at all, it’s that he simply revels in your agony. “Asshole,” you mutter as your eyes narrow dangerously.

And the bastard has the balls to laugh. “C’mon,” he says after a beat, his voice just barely cutting in over the roar of the propellors above. He reaches down to grip your bicep and tugs, urges you off of the bench and up to your feet. “Come check this out.”

You release a pathetic-sounding moan, somehow loud enough for him to hear. And pitiful enough to encourage another snort of a Santiago laugh. You trust this man. You’ve worked with him for the better part of three years, been friends with him almost as long. You’d very likely take a bullet for him… well, depending on why he was being shot at anyway. But right now, the crooked, far-too amused grin on his face as he leads you up towards the cockpit is enough to make you want to toss him from the damn helicopter.

He nudges you forward as you reach the front of the chopper, sandwiching you in between his unmoving frame and the back of Frankie’s seat. “Take a look,” he instructs, nodding out towards the rolling green hills below.

You reluctantly raise your head and gaze outside, the beauty of it all enveloping you for a single breathless moment before you hit a small air pocket and the helicopter gives a slight lunge. Again, Santi laughs. So does Frankie in front of you, though he at least has the decency to mutter a soft, “Sorry,” as his eyes arc over his shoulder and catch your wide, petrified stare.

“I’m gonna hurl,” you say, only partially serious.

“Then go lean over Redfly’s seat,” he says back to you with a wicked smile.

You keep your eyes trained on him, on his worn hat, on the side of his scruffy face, on anything other than the wide-open world laid out ahead of you… the one you’re fairly certain you’re all going to plummet down into any second, ending your story in a massive molten steel fireball. “You’re sure you can handle this thing?”

A harsh huff blows out his nostrils, eyes rolling dramatically. “I’m gonna pretend like you didn’t just ask me that,” he replies smugly.

Your gaze drifts down to the myriad buttons and controls peppering the console in front of him, the sheer number of things he must have to keep track of just to ensure you all stay in the air both impressing and terrifying you. A swift hit of panic causes you to inadvertently gasp and you feel his eyes on you once again.

“I know what I’m doing,” he states simply, a warm reassurance emanating from those simple words.

You don’t look up to catch his brief glance. Instead, your eyes remain trained on his hands, entranced by the strong, confident hold he has on the controls. On this whole damn deathtrap of a machine. “Yeah,” you mutter, a bit reluctantly, the tension in your shoulders uncoiling, if only a bit. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Check it out, bonita,” you hear Santi spill into you from behind. You look up and out at the world beyond, see a streak of blinding white creeping in along the horizon. He leans close and pats you on the shoulder. “We make it over the Andes and we’re almost home-free.”

“Just as long as we don’t end up like that rugby team,” you offer snidely before tossing a glance back at him and letting your own face split into an arrogant smirk. “I have a feeling all of your meat is too damn tough to digest.”

He shakes his head in amusement and pops a chuckling Frankie hard enough to bounce the baseball cap askew on his head. “That’s all up to this guy,” he says before leaning over the seat and asking, “You think we’ll make it?”

There’s a bit of a shift to his tone when he asks, and to Frankie’s as well when he answers. “Not sure.” And it’s just enough to cause your stomach to drop to your knees.

“I hope that’s a joke,” you say, doing your best to hide the anxious warble to your voice.

He looks over his shoulder and tosses a seemingly carefree smile in your direction, easily hums out, “Just playing in the clouds, cielo,” before turning his attention back to the task at hand. You roll your eyes, but can’t quite keep the corner of your mouth from ticking up into a crooked grin all the same.

000

Somehow – somehow – you had managed to fall asleep. Sheer exhaustion and the near-constant ramping up of adrenaline apparently being the trick to getting you to nod off whilst in the air without a Xanax-vodka cocktail. You never would’ve thought it would – or even could– happen, but for some indeterminate period of time you became utterly dead to the world while rocking on this terrifying contraption. In fact, you’re so far gone that you don’t even register what’s happening when your heavily drooping head suddenly slams back into the wall in time with a violent lurch, ripping you from sleep alongside a horrifying screeching sound from above.

The helicopter heaves again and you white knuckle it, clinging maniacally to the metal bench beneath you as you watch Ben and Will look frantically around as though they too had just been torn from rest. From your left, you hear Santiago scream something at them. Something that sounds like, “Pull the lever!” the words just barely audible over the top of the whooshing reverberating in your ears.

The brothers both leap up – one a bit slower, a bit more painedthan the other – and they turn to search for the device. Will finds it first, a bright red lever sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the gunmetal gray and deep olive drab tones of the helicopter’s interior. He pulls it in a single harsh movement and both of the men hold tight to the netting on the wall as they stare down at the small access door in the floor. But… nothing seems to happen.

“Didn’t work!” Ben shouts back at Santi, and by this time, you too are leaning forward to catch a glimpse of what they’re looking at. Through the tiny access door, you can just make out the net full of money, swinging dangerously from the bottom of the helicopter. With a jolt of panic, you realize that they’re trying to release it.

“What’s going on?” you shout, your words effectively drown out as Santiago pushes past, forcing you back to your seat as he yells something about a manual release.

Ben drops to the floor and tries to shimmy through the access door – much to your horror – just as the chopper heaves to the side again. Will lunges forward to grab him, but as it turns out, there’s really no need for him to worry about his brother because he… “Can’t fit!”

All three men freeze, hovering over the tiny hole in the floor for a single, nerve-wracking moment as they gather their wits and formulate a plan. Then all three sets of eyes turn on you.

“No, no, no, no,” you string together as you throw up your hands and lean further back on the bench.

Santi steps forward and kneels awkwardly in front of you, his hand wrapping tightly around your wrist. “We’re going to crash if that thing stays on,” he shouts over the din. “If we release it, Fish can land. If not, we die.”

You shake your head no, but don’t resist as he tugs you up and forward. “Think you can fit?” Ben asks, his voice, perhaps for the first time you’ve heard it, carrying no hint of humor nor mirth. You lean forward to look, and you freeze.

At your back, Santi gives you a little nudge and squeezes your elbow reassuringly. “The release is right there,” he says, pointing down at the heavy lever atop the net. “We’ll lower you down. Just kick it to release.” He turns you toward him, looks you dead in the eye, now holding tight to both of your arms, and he gives you a quick, firm shake to make sure he has your attention. “We won’t let you fall. I promise.”

You give a blank nod and swallow thickly before stepping closer to the access door and appraising the space. You can do this… of course, you can do this. You can fit through that door. Just drop through it and… kick the thing. They won’t let you fall. They won’t let you fall. We won’t let you fall.

“Okay,” you say simply, nodding once more as Santiago transfers you over to Benny. You seize him in a death grip as he lowers you out the door, his strong hands wrapped firmly around your biceps, his stern, set face – so unlike the visage you’d come to know – holding your stare in a confident promise. We won’t let you fall. But as you kick wildly through the air, you realize that the lever is just out of reach.

You look up to see Benny turn to the others and say something, but the wind rushing around you keeps his words at bay. When he turns back, he nods down, issuing a silent command to keep trying, and you feel yourself slip further from the helicopter. Immediately, your eyes snap back up and you see that his grip on your arms is still solid, he hasn’t slackened a bit. But he is about halfway through the door himself.

Can’t fit, my ass, you think exasperatedly, noting that his hips seem to be clearing the opening just fine. Sure, it’s tight, but he could’ve made it. You shove those thoughts away for now – though you have every intention of berating him for this later – and you stretch further, looking down to line up your foot as best you can with the lever, each kick haphazardly swinging through the air and just missing the release.

Finally, you make contact, feel it jerk a bit beneath your boot. You pull back and make one more wide-arcing sweep and slam into the lever with your heel. The net full of money drops, your wide eyes watching as it plummets to the earth below. But – before you’re even able to fully register the fact that you actually did it – the chopper lunges to the side, awkwardly reacting to the sudden drop in weight, and your body is flung up against the bottom of the helicopter.

Ben holds you tight, his fingers digging into your flesh almost as deeply as yours are into his. But when you look up, you see that he’s shifted so far that he’s now hanging almost entirely out of the access door himself. His wide eyes connect with yours, terrified for a beat of a moment before his face pulls back into that stern, determined expression.

“We gotta jump!” he shouts down at you, causing your hands to constrict around him. He looks up, presumably at whomever is still holding him in the aircraft – though nothing can really be seen beyond the tight access door – shouts something into the wind, and then – before you can protest, before you can prepare – you both just… fall.

Strong arms tug at you and by the time you hit the ground, Benny’s got you cemented to his chest, breaking your fall at least a bit as he tucks and rolls for the both of you. But it still hurts like hell, your foot slamming into the ground and cranking your ankle to the side, you head bouncing off of something hard and sharp on his tac vest as the two of you collide with the earth. The air is forced violently from your lungs by the impact, and the horrific sounds of the helicopter breaking apart above you drive their way into your consciousness, reminding you all at once that not everyone has someone to break their fall.

Benny shoots up and lunges forward, stopping himself for just the fraction of a second it takes to turn back and glance over at you, make sure you’re alright. Or… alive, at least. A giant piece of metal flies toward both of you, the shimmer just registering in your periphery, and you grab at his arm to tug him back down and out of the way. The second it’s past, he’s up again in a flash, readying himself to take off just as the body of the chopper skids to the earth, lurches and rolls, and finally pulls to a terrifying stop ahead of you.

You follow him, of course, trailing behind – the now twisted ankle slowing you almost as much as the steady stream of blood trickling into your eyes. You don’t see Santiago – along with Will – climb from the wreckage, don’t see him rush for you as the brothers head for the cockpit. But you do manage to wipe enough blood from your eyes to catch the horrified look on his face once he’s right in front of you.

“Are you alright?” he asks as frantic, shaky hands pull up to wipe away more blood and examine your head. He hisses when he sees the laceration at your hairline, but you can hear a relieved breath blow out of him when you give a nod in response.

“Benny could’ve fit,” you say, words tumbling out in a breathless heap. “That was bullshit.”

Santi just laughs, loud and carefree, and pulls you into an unexpected – but most welcome – hug. “Look on the bright side, bonita,” he mutters into you, clinging tight for a lingering moment. “At least you can still say you’ve never been in a helicopter crash. You bailed before we hit.”

You shove him away and scoff, waving wildly at the wreckage behind him. “That still counts!”

He simply laughs again, shaking his head fondly, before finally dropping his hands from your shoulders and heading over to check in on Ben and Will.

“I keep telling you,” you shout at him as he goes, pointing heatedly at the wrecked helicopter. “Death trap!”

“No one’s dead,” sounds from a few feet away, drawing your attention. Tom steps out from behind the chopper and gives you a strict nod as he throws your tac vest over, the piece of equipment landing with a dull thud near your feet. “Suit up.”

You reach down to collect the vest, pinching your eyes firmly shut to stave off a sudden swell of dizziness as you pull back up a bit too fast. But before you can stumble and reel, a steadying hand lands on your back. You blink away the shakiness – and a bit of blood still trickling into your eye – and crane your head just enough to see the man now looming at your side.

“You good?” Frankie asks, concern furrowing his brow as his eyes bounce methodically back and forth between you and the order-shouting Redfly. You want to say yes. You want to ask him – bleary gaze focusing on a seeping cut down his cheek – if he’s alright. You want to ask where the hell he came from, how he appeared at your side so suddenly, just when you needed him. But before you can even crack your lips apart to speak, he shouts over to Tom, a quick and definitive, “I got her!” and you startle out of your pensive state.

His hand slides over to cup your ribs as you pull yourself upright, his thumb absently stroking atop your now sweat-soaked shirt. You turn to face him, head cocking almost comically. “You got me?” you ask, words lilting as a small smirk pulls at the corners of your lips.

His head ducks a bit as a wide, almost nervous-looking smile blooms. “Yeah,” he mutters, his hand falling away and fisting nervously before he reaches out to take the tac vest from you. You let him, remaining staunchly still – save a bit of residual sway from the trauma of falling out of a freaking helicopter – as he deftly fits it around you, tightening the straps and snorting out a short chuckle as you oomph in response. He gives a light tap to the center of your chest, a quick all good once the armor is in place, and meets your eyes before stating simply, “I got you.”

The coms are shot and the moment everyone gets into position, that thick anxiety begins curling low in your gut yet again – no rest for the weary. But, despite the fact that presumed hostiles are digging into your net full of money right now, and your way out is a smoldering pile of spent metal, and all of you are exhausted and beat to hell, limping and wiping away blood every few seconds, despite all of that, well…

I got you.

Even once the shooting starts – a single quick pop from your left, a smattering of gunfire from within the group of farmers… Even as Frankie rises and curses and trains an unyielding stare on the chaos ahead, his hand falling to your shoulder for just the fraction of a second it takes for him to communicate, stay down… Even as the locals retreat and you all move to close in, Frankie stepping directly in front of you, refusing to let you move ahead of him… Even as you approach and see the two men lying dead in the field, Tom standing over them, a look of shame painting his face… Even then, there’s a sort of calm that floods your senses, an internal quiet that sits deep in your bones, a reassurance that sounds in a deep, reverberating tenor.

I got you.

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