#francisco 'catfish' morales

[wardenparker]

The Stars Re-Align, part 1

Frankie Morales x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: M for Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.1k Warnings: Reader is given an age and a grown daughter. Starts out as Santiago x reader. Cursing, food/alcohol, meddlesome friends, mentions of military service (obviously), glancing mention of Tom's death, past drug use, off-page abusive relationship, panic attacks, complicated relationships, family drama. Summary: When your daughter and your boyfriend talk you into having a birthday party, you are not prepared for all of the surprises that come your way. Notes: A little love triangle and 'one that got away' vibe for your Feral Frankie Friday!

“Rachel!” Calling from the kitchen is an old, unbreakable habit by now, but dinner is almost ready and you know your daughter is in the living room studying. She has plans with her boyfriend tonight which means she’s getting her reading out of the way, and you’re proud of her for having such good habits and steady resolve. It’s not at all what you were like at her age, and you’ve worked hard to make sure that she has opportunities that you never could have. Being a young single mom was rough, but every second you have with your little-girl-turned-young-woman is worth it. “Supper’s ready, honey. Find your bookmark!”

“Sure thing!” There’s no point in reminding you that her book is a digital copy, no bookmark needed, but she dutifully saves the spot and closes her laptop. “It smells good.” She compliments, walking into the kitchen and over to the fridge to bust out the bottle of wine that had become a habit with dinner since high school. Nothing fancy, just a cheap sangria, but it was a ritual that both mom and daughter enjoyed. “Are you going out with Santiago tonight?” She asks as she gets down the glasses to pour.

“He might come over to watch a movie since you’re going out.” Your two-month-old relationship isn’t deeply committed or deeply anything yet, really, but you like him. He’s attentive, handsome, and funny, and deeply — okay there’s one deeply — good in bed. “Do you want the good parmesan, or the shaker can? We have both.” Spaghetti with onions, peppers, and sausage isn’t necessarily gourmet, but it’s a family staple. Something your dad used to make you when you were growing up in New York City and you have made for your daughter her whole life afterwards.

“Good parmesan.” She hums. “Let’s be fancy tonight.” Bringing the glasses over to the small kitchen table, she moves on to set out the silverware. A chore when she was younger, it’s now just become habit when you eat together. ‘Working together as a team’ is how you always phrased it and it’s something she loves about her relationship with you now. You’re a team. “I’m going to stay at Ben’s tonight, so you and Santiago can have wild sex.”

“Be safe.” She’s twenty-four, so you’re not going to quibble about her sleeping over with her boyfriend, but you do give her a meaningful look when you set down the plates on the table. “Don’t make me a grandmother and I won’t make you a sister.”

Rachel laughs, it’s the same statement you have been using since she was first dating boys after puberty. “But Mom!” She pouts playfully. “I really want a baby sister!”

“Think I’m getting a little too old for that option, honey,” you huff, but laugh anyway. “Ask Santa for one at Christmas.”

She grins at you, bringing over the basket of breadsticks that are an Olive Garden copycat. Plain frozen ones that you brush with butter and garlic salt. So many of the meals you have together are mocks of the restaurant meals she had wanted when she was younger and you couldn’t afford. As an adult, it’s humbling to see the lengths you went to in order to make her happy.

“You’re coming back tomorrow, though, right?” Though you typically aren’t one to make a big deal out of such things, Santiago had offhandedly mentioned to your daughter a few weeks ago that it was a shame you weren’t doing anything for your birthday and Rachel had jumped on board with talking you into a party. The backyard barbecue will be small, but a chance to meet your boyfriend’s friends and have a few of your own friends from work come over. “It was half your idea, after all.”

“Yeah, I’m going to be there.” She promises. “Oh, is it okay if I bring Ben?” She asks. “He’s got another party to go to if not, but he said he would rather spend time with me.”

“Yes, you can bring Ben.” He’s a few years older than Rachel and has had a very different life experience, but you like Ben Miller. He’s doing his best to make an honest way in the world and he treats Rachel with love and respect. And probably in ways that you want to know absolutely nothing about. “There’s going to be plenty of food. Santiago and I are managing that end.”

She snorts and shakes her head. “Of course you are cooking for your own party.” She huffs.

“Get sassy with me and I’ll send every stitch of leftovers home with other people,” you threaten, though it’s hollow and comes with laughter.

“Not like you won’t make enough to still bring home food.” She shoots back with a grin. If there was ever a party, you always made too much food. It might be pasta salad, but you and she would be eating it for a solid week after everyone had gone home.

“Nothing fancy,” you assure her even though you know she’s right. “Burgers and dogs. And veggie burgers for the few people that skip red meat. All the accoutrements. Santiago is in charge of the grill, which he’s very happy about. And I’m making that cheese dip you like along with my guac. Salsa is coming out of a jar despite protests.”

“Let Ben bring the salsa.” She volunteers immediately with a grin. “He’s got some recipe he got from friends he used to serve with.” She explains. “He was going to make it for their party but we can hijack it and bring it to yours.”

“Deal.” That’s one more thing off your checklist and you’re fine with that. “And the cake is coming from an actual bakery, not a supermarket. I do listen to your protests most of the time.”

“The buttercream is far superior.” She huffs happily and lifts her glass when you are both sitting down at the table. “To a wonderful birthday weekend.” She offers. “One you never forget.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” You tap your glass against hers and smile. “Forty-two feels like it will be a good one.”

******

“We have the cake, the burgers are all ready to throw on the grill. Fish is bringing the baked beans, Ironhead is bringing the potato salad and you said Rach’s boyfriend is going to bring the salsa?” He arches a brow in concern. “What do you know about this guy? Is it good salsa? Because I’m going to be offended if it’s Pace.”

“I was told he has a recipe from somebody he served with.” The Pace is in its jars in the cupboard where Santiago can’t be offended by it, and you slip past him to look at your checklist taped to the cupboards one more time. “Coleslaw is made, cheese dip is made, and you filled up the outside fridge last night so that’s all set. I think we’re okay. The last thing is the guac and that only makes a few minutes.”

Santiago slides behind you and wraps his arms around your stomach and hums. “So we have time to go back to the bedroom?” He asks playfully, even if he would haul you back there if you said yes.

“Only if you’re planning on disappointing me,” you tease, knowing he never has and never would. Not on purpose. Still, you twist to kiss away the pout that has certainly formed there. “People are going to be here any minute.”

“We could always tell them to go the fuck away.” He laughs as he suggests it and then the doorbell peels out right afterwards. “That’ll be Ironhead.” He predicts. “Will’s always early.”

“Is that his real name? Will?” You call back when Santiago goes to open the door. You can make guacamole with your eyes closed due to the fact that you’ve had this recipe longer than your daughter has been alive, and you go to the fridge to get the ingredients.

“Yeah!” He calls back over his shoulder before he opens the door to find his friend on the doorstep. The smiles are genuine, almost guilty considering the shit they’ve gone through for the past five months since South America. Grief and sorrow have pulled at them, but it also has finally started to let them live again. “You made it!”

“Of course I did. You didn’t think I’d miss out on seeing your ass do something domestic, did you?” Will ‘Ironhead’ Miller slaps Pope’s shoulder. “Nice place she’s got. You tried to move in yet?”

Pope chuckles quietly and shrugs. “Maybe in another month.” He jokes. “Gotta get in good with the kid first.”

“Right, the kid.” With another friendly slap, Will Miller steps inside the house. It’s well-appointed, clean, and obviously loved. “She coming today?” He thinks so, but he can’t remember. Although a barbecue and pool party seems like a kid thing. But somehow Will remembers the kid not being kid. Teenager? He can’t remember now.

“She spent the night with her boyfriend, but she’ll be here.” Pope nods. “Although she’s already said she won’t call me daddy but I can take her for ice cream.”

“Nobody ought to be calling you ‘Daddy’,” Ironhead huffs.

Santiago laughs and shrugs. “You’re right.” He admits, knowing that he’s not father material. One of the reasons you were an attractive option was that your kid was grown. He didn’t have to play daddy, although from what he’s understood, the dad was your first love and was too immature to stick around. “Benny didn’t ride with you?”

“His girlfriend’s got a family thing today.” Will shrugs slightly, but honestly he’s impressed. His kid brother is crazy about this girl. It’s six months in and he’s starting to use some very committed language — which is fucking thrilling to Will as it signals Benny finally starting to grow up where sex and relationships are concerned. “He’s gonna come by later.”

“That’s good. I want him to come and have a few beers. Fish should be here shortly.” Pope will be happy to see everyone, it’s better than just checking in and having a beer. This will be a good time to really catch up. “How’s things with Marie?” He asks Will softly, knowing that Frank has been a little closed mouth about things between him and his lady. South America hadn’t been great for their relationship, although no one really likes her, she’s the one who was dabbling in drugs and got Fish hooked on coke.

“She was throwing some fit last night about Fish being out with another woman.” Which is obviously bullshit. Frankie would never step out on the mother of his child. But living in the apartment next to Frankie and Marie means he overhears plenty of bullshit. “All he was doing was asking if she wanted to come today. So who knows what kind of mood he’ll show up in.”

“Shit.” Pope sighs and shakes his head as he escorts Will though the living room and towards the kitchen where you are. “He needs to just bite the bullet and leave her.”

“We all know that. But it’s Fish. Too loyal for his own fucking good.” Will hadn’t been expecting to see anyone standing in the kitchen, let alone you, and he clears his throat. “Um—sorry, ma’am. Soldier’s habit,” he apologizes.

“It’s fine,” you promise him, actually laughing at the sheer display of manners. “I survived my daughter’s teenage years. You want to know who swears more than soldiers? Teenage girls.”

It’s been a long goddamn time since Will has been around teenage girls, but he just nods politely and offers his hand. “Will Miller.” He introduces himself. “Santiago has talked you up to be some kind of Wonder Woman, and it looks like he was underestimating your worth.”

"That's very kind of you, Will." You take his hand and introduce yourself easily enough, reflecting momentarily that Santiago has pretty friends. Blonde and blue-eyed isn't your type, but good looking is good looking. "Would you mind helping us get the last few things outside? And the pool is open, I hope Santiago told everyone."

“Absolutely, ma’am.” Like any good solider, Will is going to follow orders and he immediately picks up the heavier items to carry outside. “You have a beautiful home.”

"Thank you." It's something you worked hard for, and you continue to work hard for every day. Everything in your life has been to make sure your daughter is healthy, happy, and well taken care of. It was a lucky break that you got a well-paying job in your field to boot. "And you don't have to call me ma'am. Though I appreciate the manners."

“We need to give her a nickname before Taz does.” Will snorts.

"Taz?" You haven't heard that name before, and it piques your interest as Santiago helps you set things out on the table on the deck.

Will chuckles. “Youngest in our team.” He explains. “Short for Tasmanian Devil. Brother’s like a whirlwind of stirring up shit.”

"Got it." The Army nickname thing had taken you a second to get used to, but you're on board now. It's a brotherhood thing, and you like that Santiago has such a tightknit group of friends still. It's not something you've really had much of in your life, so you're glad to see when it happens for people you care about it. "Well, I told Santiago, but whenever your friends get here just let them into the backyard. The bathroom is off the living room, but everything else worth getting at is outside."

“Yes ma’am.” He smirks slightly when he says that again before disappearing out of the sliding glass doors.

"Are all your friends polite and helpful?" You glance back at the man you've been seeing for the last few months and crack a smile. "I'm glad you invited them. It's about time we started to meet each other's friends."

“Until they are assholes.” He jokes, giving you a bittersweet smile. “We lost a friend half a year ago and it seems like we’ve had a hard time getting back in the routine. Thought this might be the little jolt we needed.”

"Then we'll make sure it's a fantastic day." He hasn't confided too much about his years in the service or about where he was before moving back to Florida a few months ago, but this is probably a large part of the reason why. Either way, you slip your arms around him for a comforting hug. It's the least you can do, when he's gone through something terrible and is willing to open about it a little.

“It’s your day.” He protests, turning and kissing your lips. “It’s supposed to be good for you, not me. We will have a few drinks, have a few laughs and then…” He waggles his brows. “Well kick everyone out and I’ll make you cum until you pass out.”

The hum that forms in the back of your throat is as pleased as it is dirty, and you kiss him once more before your doorbell rings again. "I'll get it," you nudge his nose with yours and step back, albeit reluctantly. "Go hang out with your friend."

People trickle in little by little. Friends from work, mostly, and the one mom from Rachel's school days that you stayed friends with despite Rachel and her son never actually having been friends. Eventually the text comes through from your daughter that she's a few minutes away and that makes you smile brighter than just about anything else today.

Pope pulls out his phone and texts Frankie, wondering when he’s coming – or if he’s going to come at all. He is worried about him, knowing that he’s under a lot of pressure. Marie blames him for losing his license and then going down to South America for two weeks when it was only supposed to be one. He couldn’t even tell her what happened and that was causing issues.

Had to wait for the babysitter. On my way now. Says the text that comes through a few minutes later, but there is a temporary distraction from waiting for Catfish: Rachel's car pulls up and parks outside the house, expelling both your daughter and her boyfriend onto the front lawn.

“Come on, Ben.” Rachel grabs his hand and rushes him towards the door. They are running behind because of the pre-party activities he had talked her into and while she’s not regretting that in the least, she wants to get inside and wish you happy birthday.

“Sounds like everybody’s out back, baby,” he steers her toward the fence surrounding the backyard instead of the front door, but when that brings him closer to the actual driveway of his girlfriend’s house he frowns — deeply — in confusion. He shouldn’t recognize the two vehicles sitting behind Rachel’s car and her mother’s, but there they are: Pope’s slick vintage Corvette right next to Will’s jacked up picked up truck. There’s no denying the two vehicles, he’s seen them together far too often. “The hell?” Benny breathes, but Rachel doesn’t hear him. She’s too excited to see her mom and moving them through the gate before he can hang back to do a double take at the cars.

“Mom!” Pope looks up at soon as he hears a familiar happy cry but then he’s immediately frowning. Watching as Ben Miller moves through the fence gate with Rachel. “What the fuck?”

“I told you she was bringing her boyfriend, didn’t I?” Santiago’s level of confusion is confusing in its own right, but you ignore it in favor of meeting your daughter at the edge of the porch to give her a massive hug. “Hey sweet pea!”

It helps that Benny looks just as stunned as Pope does, Will stopping short when he sees his younger brother and doesn’t hesitate to call out. “You made it!” He huffs out and shaking his head at his brother’s fickleness. “Girlfriend’s family already kick you out?”

“Nooo…” Benny blinks against the sunlight, having left his sunglasses in his truck. “You’re at the wrong party, assholes.”

The ball busting smirk immediately slides off of Will’s face, due to the knowledge that there is no way they could be at the wrong party. “Benny…” He glances at a stunned Pope and sighs heavily. “We’re at the right party.”

It only takes about a second more, but by the time Benny breathes “Ohhh shit.” He’s also cackling with laughter. “Are you telling me—” The younger Miller brother looks around and drops his voice for the sake of not embarrassing the girl he adores. “Are you telling me Pope is banging my girl’s mom?”

Will snorts and shakes his head. “Looks like.” He agrees quietly. “Hell of a birthday surprise.” He hopes that it won’t change your daughter’s mind on dating him, Rachel has been fantastic for Ben.

“Fuck….” Pope snickers quietly, shaking his head at the irony. He should probably go spell this out for you so you don’t take it the wrong way. No one knew. Even after hearing about Benny’s girlfriend for months, only Will and Fish had met her so far.

Rachel pulls back and gives you a beaming smile. “Happy Birthday Mom.” She hums, winking at you. “Santiago spend the night last night since I was with Ben?” She’s not been paying attention to the guys, too focused on you.

“We fell asleep watching our second movie.” It’s mostly true — true enough that you can play it off as innocent because you did technically nod off during the second movie — but the empty bowl of popcorn and wine glasses in the living room had waited until this morning to be cleared away once you hauled each other off to bed. “Did Ben have a fight last night or did you guys just go out?”

“No fight.” She shakes her head. “Next weekend, so we just got to go out. Although he wants to know if you would like to come to the fight.” You’ve met Benny and she thinks you like him, but she wants you to get to know him better. Which is why she had suggested they go to your party today instead of his friends’.

“If you want me to.” You don’t feel too excited to watch your daughter’s boyfriend get beat up, but you do want to get to know him better. Rach is so obviously head over heels for him.

“It’s up to you.” She smiles and looks back at Ben, curious to find Will here. “Um— what’s his brother doing here?”

“Whose brother?” Turning to follow her eyes, your head tilts slightly in interest. Santiago and Will are deep in conversation with Benny already. “That’s one of Santiago’s friends. Will.”

“Mom…” Rachel’s eyes widen slightly. “That’s Will Miller…Benny’s older brother.”

“That…” You swallow, slowly registering the situation as you watch the men interact. “That makes things interesting…” You’re dating a man who served with your daughter’s boyfriend…this is going to get complicated…

“Oh god.” Rachel bites her lip as Benny and Pope quickly break away and come over to the two of you. “So…”

“So, this is interesting.” You repeat the phrase almost disbelieving.

“Kind of a funny coincidence, huh?” Benny wraps his arms around Rachel and plants a kiss in her hair.

“I didn’t know.” Rachel promises you with a small shake of her head. “Shit, Ben. I can’t believe I didn’t know it.”

“I think I know why.” You observe, clearing your throat and accepting the comfort of Santiago’s arm around your waist as you look up (and up) at Ben. “I’m going to guess that your nickname while you were serving together was Taz?”

“Yeah.” Benny nods and looks back between all the other men. “Oh fuck, we’ve been just using our nicknames and they didn’t know.” He groans. "I'm sorry baby." He turns to Rachel with an apologetic look. "Pope was talking about his new girl and spending as much time as possible with her, so he missed the last fight you were at."

“It’s a little unconventional,” you admit, wondering what Santiago thinks of all this. “But not terrible, right?” As close in age as you and Rachel are, it wouldn’t be the first time you have had mutual friends. Just the first time you were ever dating mutual friends.

"He's a good guy." Pope assures you, like it's the first time you've met Benny. "And we can kick his ass if needed."

Benny snorts and rolls his eyes. "You wish, old man."

“Rach?” Your fingers run through her loose curls gently and you give her a questioning look. While this isn’t the day you want to have — after all, you do like Santiago — it’s ultimately up to her. Everything is and always has been in your life, and you made that decision for a reason.

"I don't think that you need to stop seeing Santiago just because he knows Ben." She rationalizes. "I think it's fine, what do you think?"

“Just as long as you’re comfortable with it.” That goes for the men involved, too. But they don’t seem to mind beyond being apologetic.

Rachel snorts and shrugs. "Just as long as they don't share sex stories." She giggles and shoots Santiago a smirk. "And we won't either."

“I was not planning on it, sweet pea.” You might be close, but that’s a step too far even for you. “Never ever.”

Agreeing completely, she walks up to Pope and gives him a hug. "So if you make my mom cry, I'll have my boyfriend beat you up." She teases.

“Got it.” She’s a grown woman, but he can’t resist the urge to mess with her thick hair, watching her face wrinkle in disapproval before she moves back to Benny, who smooths the familiar curls with care. “Now we just need Catfish to get here and we’ll have everybody.”

"I'm here!" A hand appears over the fence before he opens it, hat pulled low, and he grunts when he picks up the cooler full of ice and beer that he had stopped and picked up on the way. "Sorry I'm late."

“Fish!” Benny kisses the side of Rachel’s head before peeling off to grab the cooler from him and take it to the porch so his friend can catch his breath. He doesn’t see the tick in the tilt of your head or the way your eyes widen just a second later.

'Fish', or Francisco Morales, looks up and smirks at Benny when he grabs the cooler. Thankful, although he wouldn't make too much of a fuss about it. Getting older sucked and he's still feeling the effects of that workout he helped the other man do just two days ago when his normal sparring partner was sick. "'Bout time you made yourself useful." He huffs playfully and looking towards Pope to wave. Freezing with his arm halfway up in greeting when he sees someone that he had never expected to see before – you.

The way you shrink into yourself immediately is instinct. As much shock as anything else. But within seconds you’re stepping forward to block Rachel from view and shakily a demand an explanation. “What the shit is going on?” You hiss, though you’re not exactly sure who you’re talking to, you just don’t want to make a scene in front of your coworkers. They consider you to be such a calm, collected woman.

Frowning, Pope turns towards you, reaching out to touch your arm and stepping closer to you. "Babe— what's wrong? What are you talking about?" He follows your gaze back to Fish and he grunts in confusion. "Fish? He's another teammate. One of my best friends."

“Fuck.” Deflating on the spot, you feel like you could just collapse where you stand but that wouldn’t help the situation any. “We—we, um—know each other,” you explain quietly. “But it’s been a long time.”

Feeling like he's been kicked in the chest by one of those fucking mules, Frankie stumbles forward and murmurs your name softly. "I— what are you doing here?" He asks, frowning slightly.

“This is my house.” You wonder if Santiago even explained where he was inviting him, or if you have a nickname to their group just like they all do to each other. “I wouldn’t expect you to still remember my birthday.”

All the blood drains from his face and it falls into a wounded look. Realizing that you have to be Pope's girl. "I— remembered." He murmurs quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Seven billion people in the world. Figured someone else would have the same day too." It's almost a kick in the teeth, that comment of yours. Considering he had a fight with Marie because he had said your name this morning when he was talking to himself after waking up. You were the reason he had fought, again, with the mother of his child and she had pitched a fit and left. Making him wait on a babysitter so he could come to this party. To find out that it was for you. He's so fucking lucky that Marie isn't here. He clears his throat roughly and bites his lip. "Happy birthday, gatita." He uses the nickname from a million years ago and steps back. "I should go."

A press of overwhelming guilt and the instinct to stop him makes you reach out, grabbing his arm before you can stop yourself. “No. You shouldn’t.” You admit, even though it hurts.

"No," He shakes his head and gives you a wry smile. "I should." He sighs softly and looks over at Pope. "This is your girl, huh?" He asks, confusing the other man even more. "Keep her and take care of her." He tells him. "You'll regret it if you don't." He reaches for your hand and pries it off his arm gently, squeezing it before letting it go.

“Where’s Fish going?” Benny returns from the deck just a second too late, but just in time to watch Frankie leave again and see the bewildered looks on his friends’ faces.

"I don't fucking know." The entire day has been one big bag of surprises and Pope doesn't particularly like surprises. He turns towards you for some kind of explanation, although the nickname gatita sounds familiar, like Fish has mentioned it before. "You know Frank?"

“We grew up together.” It’s the best you can hiccup out before you take off like a shot, following Frankie through the gate. “Frankie!” He’s already down at the street, but he pauses when you call his name and it gives you time to catch up.

Waiting for you as you rush towards him, Frankie takes off his Standard Oil hat and scratches his hair. Struck by how nostalgic the moment is, waiting for you to catch up to him so many times once upon a lifetime ago. “Look, I’m sorry.” He sighs when you are closer. “I didn’t know, okay? I’m going.”

“I think you should stay.” Not as fit as you once were, you puff a little and put your arms around your waist. “We, uh—for Santiago, if nothing else. You’re his friend and I—I’m somebody you used to know.” And there is so, so much to tell him…

The idea that you might want him there makes him pause and he frowns slightly as he stares at you for a moment. “Only if you’re sure.” He still hesitates. “It’s your birthday after all.”

“It is.” And you’re not sure. You’re really not. But since he’s reappearing in your life almost twenty-five years later, the lump in your throat is winning over logic.

“Last time I saw you was on your birthday.” Frankie frowns, wondering how he could have been such a shit head back then. “Seems like the circle is complete.”

“Eighteen was a long time ago.” It was right before he left for boot camp, and you’d been pushing him to commit to you before he left. A stupid thing to do at such a young age. You know that now. But you were so stupid in love with him back then and there was so much going on.

“Yes it was.” He can admit that, biting his lip and shuffling slightly. “And I was an asshole.” He had broken his own damn heart, even if he hadn’t known it at the time.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.” Squeezing your eyes shut makes you feel like your heart is going to burst, but the universe has decided that it’s time to finally time to come clean. “I was scared. And I’m sorry.”

“I was stupid.” Frankie has so many regrets from that time of his life, just compounded over the years and he almost steps closer to you, but he doesn’t. He can’t, he doesn’t have that right anymore. “I proved you right. I didn’t come back.” The argument is still confusing in his memory, just as much as it had confused him then. You had pushed to get married before he left and he had wanted to wait. It had become a sticking point and in his stubbornness, he had broken up with you.

“You didn’t come back and you didn’t have a cell phone…and then your parents moved.” With their only child moved on, Frankie’s father had accepted a transfer upstate from the Standard Heating & Oil Co that both of your fathers worked for. “I had—I had no way to talk to you. To—to tell you—” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, surprising you since you thought you had cried every last tear you had over Frankie Morales.

“Tell me?” Frankie frowns and he does step closer, hating to see tears in your eyes again on a birthday. Especially because they seem to be because of him again. “Tell me what, gatita?”

“Fair warning.” Wiping at the corners of your eyes, you can’t quite look him in his even when you straighten out again. “You’ll hate me. And you probably should, at this point.”

“I don’t think I could hate you.” Frankie admits quietly, unable to even imagine a world where he would.

“You might.” Wiping your hands down your face and breathing out a deep, frustrated groan, you look up again to see the eyes of the boy who was your first everything looking back at you, and you crumble. “I didn’t have any way to contact you,” you repeat again, knowing you could and should have tried harder anyway. “And I was scared of losing you because — because I was pregnant.”

The way his brows pull down is instantaneous and he immediately puts his hands on his hips and twists around as he absorbs your news. “You— you were pregnant?” He chokes out, looking back at you with a wounded expression. “I— what? No? What— pregnant?”

“That’s…that’s why I was pushing you so hard to propose.” You admit, eyes cast down at the ground.

“You didn’t say a word.” Frankie shakes his head. “Why— why didn’t you tell me? If I had known—”

“I thought if I told you that you’d only run away from me faster.” Which, at eighteen years old, had seemed like pretty sound logic to you. “By the time I was scared enough to just want you there regardless, it was too late. You were…you were gone.”

“By the time—” he shakes his head, eyes wide and he swallows harshly. “What happened? Don’t— I— what are you saying?”

"I'm saying that you have a daughter." A fact which sticks in your throat now like you had tried to swallow a pinecone. "Who is smart, and kind, and headstrong, and stubborn as hell. But she's doing so well for herself that a lot of that stubbornness just slides right by."

Frankie blanks out for a minute, staring at you before he turns away. Grappling with his emotions as he bends over and tries to take a breath, groaning slightly in disbelief. “No.” He shakes his head, turning back to you. “No! Don’t tell me that!”

"I'm sorry." It isn't worth much, as apologies go, but you kneel down beside him on the grass and wonder if he'll be mad enough to strike out if you put a hand on his back. "I really am. You should have known a long time ago."

“Twenty-four,” he chokes out. “You are telling me I have a twenty-four year old daughter?” His face screws up in the regret and tears. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking.”

"I had no way to tell you." It's a lame excuse, or at least it feels lame, and you do rest your hand on his back but it's so gentle you don't even know if he can feel it.

“Oh fuck….fuck, fuck, fuck…..” Frankie moans, closing his eyes and his fists bunch against his thighs. “I-I-I— don’t— I can’t –”

"Frankie?" His breathing sounds panicked, and you soothe one hand in circles around his back. "Breathe, okay? Just breathe. Everything's okay. She—she's grown. She's raised. No one is asking you to do anything."

“I—I missed it.” He manages. “I missed everything.” Closing his eyes as he realizes that his trajectory of his life would have been vastly different if he had known.

Oh. It's the opposite. The exact opposite. He's not panicked that you're going to expect him to stay, like you thought he was. He's upset that he missed Rachel's childhood. "There's...there's still the whole rest of her life ahead."

“I— I should have been there.” He drops his head down even more. “Fuck— you must hate me. She must hate me.”

"It's my fault you didn't know. Why would I hate you?" As much as it has ever hurt to lose him, you've never actually hated him. Just missed him. Which isn't the same although they can be confused for each other. "And Rachel— Frankie, she knows the truth. That we were young and lost touch."

“Rachel.” He shakes his head, focusing on her name and it’s so goddamn familiar. “Her name is Rachel?”

"My aunt Rachel died right before she was born," you explain, wondering if he even remembers meeting your mother's sister a million and a half times at different family functions while you were together. He was always invited for every holiday.

“God.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head, hating that he had been such a fucking idiot back then. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers.

"I am, too." More sorry than you can possibly say, but what else can you do at this point but try to move forward?

“So I managed to ruin another birthday of yours.” He pushes aside the grief and sorrow that is threatening to overwhelm him and locks it down. Compartmentalize, shutting down, it’s what he knows best. He can freak out about this later when he’s left.

"It's not ruined." It's awkward, and it's uncomfortable, and you're not really sure what to do now. But it's not ruined. "It's—it's not—I don't know what today is, but it's..." you sigh heavily and stand up again. "I don't know, Frankie. If you want to leave that's up to you. But our lives cross now, and I know...I know Rachel would want to meet you."

“Oh god. Is she— is she there? Here?” He asks, shaking his head. “Can I meet her?”

"If I wasn't going to let you meet her, I would have just kept my mouth shut about the whole thing," you needle him gently. Just wishing he could or would do as much as crack a smile. It seems desperately needed.

The huff, the quarter of a smile is almost involuntary. Almost in disbelief and he looks over at you with a heavy stare. “I want to meet her.” He tells you quietly. “If I had known, things would have been so different for us, gatita.”

"No use crying over spilled milk, I think." Twenty-four years of regret is a lot to process, but you nod in acknowledgement. Just a small motion of thanks that he is at least saying out loud what you suspected.

“Fuck.” He huffs again and uncurls his hands to wipe them on his jeans. “I’m nervous.”

"Telling you not to be seems cruel," you huff, though you're not sure what else to say. "No one planned this. No one saw this coming. It will be as much of a shock to her as it is to you. As—as it was to me to see you."

“Forty-two.” He shakes his head and looks back over at you in awe. “You don’t look a day over fucking eighteen.” It might be a small embellishment, but you look amazing and so much like the girl he has loved for so long.

"You're not so bad yourself." Santiago may be on the other side of that fence, but a part of your heart has always and will always belong to scrawny Frankie Morales from Brooklyn. Even if he isn't scrawny anymore – which is a thing you can't help but notice.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, centering himself before he nods. “We should go back.” He murmurs.

"I promise she's not scary." Although you'll understand when it is a complete shock to her. And to the others. "Just...let me tell her first? I ran after you so fast that I didn't explain to anyone else yet."

Both of you stand up and he scrubs his hands on his jeans again. “Sure, sure.” He agrees, knowing that it could be sort of a shock, even if she’s known about him her whole life.

"Remember to breathe," you advise him with a wry chuckle, even though it's good advice for you too.

“When I remember how.” Frankie snorts, slightly pacing in place as he glances towards the back yard gate.

"Come on." Nodding toward the yard, you take a step in that direction to see if it will spur him on. The urge to offer him your hand is misplaced, and you have to quell it by putting your hands in your jeans pockets. "We've kept them waiting long enough."

Frankie exhales roughly and trails along behind you, wanting you to take the lead. He has to tell you about Luna at some point, but he will do that after he meets the daughter he never knew he had.

“Sorry about that.” Once you’re on the other side of the gate again, you see Rachel standing in the midst of Santiago, Benny, and Will all looking concerned. “That was…unexpected? Shall we say?”

“Mom?” Rachel moves closer to you and frowns as her eyes slide back to where Frankie is hanging back. “Why are you upset with Fish?” She asks softly, looking back at the other three men and then back at you. “You said you knew him? When? I don’t remember you dating him.” Your dates had been few and far between, even rarer that she had met them, but she would have remembered someone called Catfish.

“I’m not upset, sweet pea. I’m just surprised.” It’s a lie, but a prudent one. You are upset, and it’s because your little slice of peace has been disturbed. But no one did that on purpose, so you’ll just have to live with it. “Why don’t we—we should talk about this inside.”

“No. Here. Now.” She has inherited her stubbornness both you and Frankie. And she’s eyeing the man she had met a few months ago and hung out with suspiciously. He looks like he’s about to be sick and she’s not above taking a baseball bat to his knees if needed, whether or not she had liked him before.

“Rach, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” you murmur, looking around the backyard. Most people are milling about and a few are in the pool, but they obviously all know something is up.

Rachel stares at you for a minute and then she shoots Frankie a glare because you look so upset before she turns around and marches towards the house.

“You guys, too,” you decide, figuring it’s probably best to get all of this over with. Santiago is dating you, Benny is dating Rachel, and Will is bound to find everything out soon enough.

There’s not a lot of hope for him with the glare shot his way, so Frankie hangs back for a moment. Reconciling the fact that Rachel is the girl that Benny has been dating. His daughter is dating his friend. His friend who has been bragging about his girl to him. And their sex life. He’s going to throw up or punch Ben in the mouth.

Once everyone is inside, you check to make sure the bathroom is empty and close the sliding doors tightly. Everyone outside can wait. This is far more important. “Everything is okay,” you start, making sure that right off the bat Rachel knows you aren’t mad and Santiago understands you don’t hate his best friend. His best friend. Fuck. “It was just—as surprising as it was to find out Santiago and Ben are friends…this is an even bigger surprise.”

Frankie leans on the side of the wall, staring at the tip of his boot as he tries to wait for you to tell Rachel. He can’t blurt it out, she’s your kid. Not his— not really. He hasn’t done a goddamn thing to help raise her, but he has to admire the job you’ve done.

"The thing is, Rach." Blowing out a breath, you reach out for your daughter's hand and just pray she won't hate you. "You wouldn't remember when I dated Frankie. Because it was before you were born."

“Hermano.” Pope’s eyes widen and the nickname clicks. He knew he had heard it before. “Gatita? This is—” he whistles quietly. “Mierda.”

When Rachel still looks confused, you breathe deeply and try your best not to shake. Or to chicken out. "There are a lot of blanks to fill in along the way, but...sweet pea...Frankie is—" Oh god, you're going to throw up. You're absolutely going to throw up. "He's your father."

You could hear a pin drop, or a mouse fart, the room is so quiet. Every head snapping towards Frankie in judgement and he doesn’t pay them any attention, focusing on the one person right now that matters. His daughter.

"I don't understand." Rachel stands bog still, clutching your hand with eyes as wide as saucers as she looks frantically between you and Frankie. She had liked this man. He is a good friend to Ben. But now she doesn't know what to think.

“Your mom and I were high school sweethearts.” Frankie isn’t sure what you might have told her, but he’s going to tell her what he knows to be true. “More like middle school, but you know?” He shrugs. “I didn’t know she was pregnant.” He promises. “I swear I didn’t know.”

Will sighs from the other side of the room. “Oh shit.”

"Everything I ever told you about him was the truth." You had worked hard to always be fair to Frankie when you were raising Rachel, even if it led to never telling her very much about him unless she asked. "He didn't know, and I had no way of telling him. It's been...it's been twenty-five years since we even spoke to each other. So you can understand why I was surprised to see him walk in today."

“And he’s friends with your boyfriend and mine.” There’s a note of disbelief in her voice that Frankie doesn’t blame her for.

“We were on the same team for years.” Frankie explains. “I was their pilot.”

“That’s why we lost touch,” you remind your daughter gently. “He left for boot camp.” Considering Ben isn’t the first Army boy that Rachel has dated, you have always sort of had a suspicion that she was subconsciously searching for her dad in these men. It just never occurred to you that it would actually work.

She looks at him, almost accusatory in her gaze. “Why did you never come back?” She demands. “If you loved her, why did you just walk away?”

That makes Frankie wince, and he shoves his hands in his pockets again. “Have you ever done something dumb and been too goddamn proud to admit you were wrong?” He asks quietly, and Pope, despite his own feelings about the entire situation, won’t let Frankie’s daughter twist in the wind.

“He used to talk about his gatita.” He interjects. “Regretting not making up with her and wishing he could get in contact with her.”

“It was harder back then, honey.” The gentle reminder is important, because Rachel might not have grown up in a world of luxury but she’s definitely never known a world without cell phones or social media. “When I told your grandparents that you were coming, we moved. It was just a little further outside the city, but the place was bigger and the neighborhood was safer. Your grandma found a better job and— and with neither of our families still in Brooklyn, we couldn’t have found each other. Even if your dad had come back looking for me, or tried to call our old apartment? We wouldn’t have been there.” At least she hasn’t ripped her hand out of yours yet. You’re considering that a good thing “We were kids, and we made mistakes. Very big ones. But you know he didn’t leave because he didn’t love you.”

“I would have never.” He promises, his voice thick with emotions. He shakes his head and frowns slightly. He doesn’t know why he didn’t realize who she was to him now that he knows. She looks just like a perfect combination of you and him, with your nose, thank God. But her ears curl just like his.

“Oh god…” In trying to process everything, Rachel glances up and looks at Frankie’s hat again, groaning to herself and wiping one hand at the bottom of her neck just like he does — but neither of them ever noticed the simile gesture. “I always just thought the hat was a funny coincidence,” she admits with a huff.

“My hat?” He takes it off and scrubs his hair quickly before putting it back on his head. “Had it since I was a kid.”

The Miller brothers look confused, and you offer them a wilted smile with your explanation. "Both of our fathers, Rach's grandfathers...they both worked for Standard for forever. That's how Frankie and I met."

“Oh shit.” Benny frowns slightly and moves over to Rachel’s side, squeezing her hip supportively.

"I know this is a lot." It's a lot for everyone, but you're mostly just talking to Rachel. Your whole adult life has been lived for your baby girl and now emotions are unraveling at light speed. "But nothing has to change. You're a grown woman, sweet pea. And whatever relationship you want with your Dad is up to you."

“I’ve spent time with him.” She admits quietly. “After a fight of Benny’s.” She looks back at Frankie and bites her lip. “But I’d like to get to know him as my dad.”

"I know this just got sprung on everybody," you murmur again. The fact is that right now you have a yard full of people and all you want to do is disappear under your comforter and pretend it isn't happening. "But...life throws you curveballs, right?"

“Yeah.” Frankie huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling like his entire world has turned on its head. Wishing like hell he could snort a line but he promised himself he wouldn’t touch that shit again.

"We should give you guys some privacy." When Will finally speaks up, it's to motion to his brother and to Pope that maybe they should step outside. There are a lot of emotions creating tension in this room and they're not going to be made easier by having an audience.

Pope shuffles slightly, wanting to stay, but he also needs to think about this entire thing. The situation is blowing up and he doesn’t want to make things worse.

"Maybe you could throw the burgers on the grill? And we'll be out in a few minutes?" He had offered to be in charge of the grill today but that was before everything had gone to hell and now you have no idea what he's thinking. "And I promise we'll talk through everything, too."

“Of course.” He nods and doesn’t lean in to kiss you like he might have just a few minutes before walking in this house. Feeling almost guilty for the entire situation right now.

That missing kiss is enough to tell you that everything has changed. Santiago has never shied away from affection or from public displays, and this is exactly the time that a partner might have offered that kind of comfort. Whatever you end up talking to him about later, you're now prepared for him to end things. But you can't fault him for that. You had a baby with his best friend – even if you didn't know each other then.

“Baby?” Benny looks at Rachel, checking with her before he leaves.

"It's okay," she promises him, going up on her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I'll find you when we come back out." And she's going to find a White Claw or six in the garage fridge, too. Fuck.

“Okay.” He shoots Frankie a worried look, not liking the despair on his friend’s face and shuffles to the door.

"I figured it might be easiest to just tell them the facts up front and then let all of us talk," you tell them both, now wondering if that was the right move at all.

“Yeah.” Frankie nods, understanding why you did it, but he looks over at Rachel with regret and waits for her to say something.

"Do you, actually...do you mind if I talk to Frankie—" Rachel hums awkwardly over it, before reconsidering. "If I talk to my father alone for a few minutes?" She sort of feels like they're ganging up on him, and while she has questions and she's sure that you do, too...hers are going to be very different from yours.

“I don’t mind.” Frankie glances back over at you for approval.

"I should go make the rounds outside." As much as you don't want to, it is your party and they are your guests out there. Most of whom noticed that something odd has happened even if they don't know what. Still, you nod and lean over to hug your daughter. "Come back out when you’re ready. Ben looked like he'll worry until you do."

“I will.” She promises and Frankie catches your eye as you glance over at him.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, thanking you for the opportunity to talk to Rachel. He knows you could have been very different with this entire thing. Blowing out a breath when you walk out and shut the door, he looks back at his grown daughter. “So hit me with it.” He tells her.

For a second Rachel is dumbfounded. She just stands and stares at him, but then her shoulders slump and she shrugs and she blows out a long sigh. “I guess I know the real reason my middle name is Francine,” she poses, shaking her head. “Mom said it was because The Nanny is her favourite show and I completely fucking believe that because she worships Fran Drescher, but I’m willing to bet that’s one of only like six lies she’s ever told me in my whole life and it’s actually because of you.”

“Francisco Alberto Morales.” He introduces himself to her quietly, nodding and trying not to be humbled by the fact that you gave your daughter a version of his name. Something to connect the two of you.

“And you guys were…you were together for a long time?” She knows the story. She’s heard it from you over and over again. But something in her feels like she needs to hear it confirmed from him.

“Seventh grade until her 18th birthday.” He frowns at the way that makes him sound, how callous it could be construed. He has just walked away after so long.

“And she wanted to get married.” Rachel prompts, needing these landmarks of the story confirmed for her.

“We had a plan.” He shuffles slightly and looks around the neat and well decorated home. You’ve done well for yourself and it shows. “I was going to get through boot camp and my ‘A’ school while she started college and then when I got to my first duty station, she would transfer to a school nearby.” His shoulders round when he remembers that last fight, the missing piece now clicked into place and with maturity, he can see that you had been terrified, not overbearing. “Her birthday, she blind-sided me with getting married.”

“She wanted to skip forward and get married first, and you didn’t agree.” She can see it from both sides, now. As an adult it makes sense why an eighteen-year-old planning his life would think his girlfriend was just trying to trap him — or even that she wanted the wedding more than she wanted him. “But…you never got married at all? Even after Mom?”

“No.” Marie isn’t married to him, he couldn’t do that even if he had been inclined to. She was still technically married to some guy in her past, or so she claimed. “But….”

“Oh god, don’t say Marie.” Rachel bursts out, talking before she can even think. “She’s awful, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. I didn’t feel like I had a right to say anything before but I totally do now and she’s abusive and terrible, and I will absolutely help you leave her if you need help. I’ll babysit Luna anytime and — oh my god Luna is my sister—”

Frankie shuffles and looks down at his feet. Marie hadn’t been at her best the first time that Rachel had come to the bar after the fight. She had been pissed off because his hearing had been postponed again and he wasn’t closer to getting his pilot’s license back.

“Look, if you’re happy, it’s whatever.” Rachel shuffles, not realizing she’s moving the same way as Frankie, and shrugs. She senses she’s hit a nerve. “I’ll still help with Luna whenever you need. I—I always wanted a baby sister…”

“She’s not bad.” Frankie had dealt with her for a long time and it seemed harder to leave than it was to stay. “That was a bad night.”

“If you say so.” She doesn’t believe him, but the very first day she meets her father isn’t the day to push too hard.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he looks around the house again. “Did you and your mom struggle?” He asks quietly.

“My grandparents helped.” The short answer is yes, but she doesn’t want to make him feel guilty. “We lived with them when I was little, then we moved down here when I was about thirteen. Mom got a job with Disney.”

Frankie nods, frowning slightly. He has his retirement and his Thrift Savings Plan from the military, which he will hopefully be able to not use once he gets his license back. He’s not in the best position to offer any kind of help, but he will. “You’re in school, right?” He asks.

“I’m getting my masters at UCF.” Rachel nods again. “I still live with Mom. Here, I mean. She didn’t make me leave or anything when I started college.”

She’s dedicated. Frankie knows that college, especially graduate programs, are expensive. “That’s good.” He bites his lip and wonders if the offer would offend her. “I have my G.I. Bill.” He mentions. “I can gift it to a spouse – which I don’t have.” He shrugs. “Or a child.”

It's a very sweet offer, but that doesn't really surprise her. She already knows Frankie is a sweet guy. "Save it for Luna," she tells him. "I have great scholarships, and that way she'll be able to look forward to school without worrying about student loans."

It’s feels like a rejection, even though he knows it’s not. He nods and clears his throat. “That’s good.” He has an odd sense of pride for her achievements, even though he had done nothing to contribute.

"What do you want to know about me?" There's probably plenty, but now Rachel feels a bit self-conscious. She's at least heard stories about him. All he knows about her is whatever Ben has told him.

“Everything.” The word tumbles out before he can stop himself and he looks embarrassed. “I— I want to know everything.”

"Everything is a lot," she laughs, but understands. She wants to know everything about him too. She's wondered about her father forever. "What if...what if we did some father/daughter stuff? I could come over and spend time with you and Luna or we could grab a drink sometimes? Just...exist together. And all the get to know you stuff will come in time?"

“Yeah.” He nods eagerly and smiles at her, his eyes crinkling and his face lighting up at the idea. “I like that. Any time. Any time at all.”

“Okay.” She’s feeling bone tired by all of this so she can only imagine how you and Frankie feel, but as Rachel moves over to the notepad on the far table to write her number down for him, she purses her lips slightly and tilts her head. Her thinking face. “Don’t…please don’t be too hard on Mom?” She asks, holding the slip of paper out to him a second later. “She doesn’t ever say it, but I know she’s missed you. And she worked so hard to raise me alone, she just…she deserves the world.”

“I’m not mad at your mother, querida.” He promises, taking the paper and looking down at it before he folds it up carefully and tucks it into his pocket. “I’m mad at myself.” He explains. “Too goddamn proud to admit I was wrong, and I apparently missed out on a hell of a life.” He looks up at her with pride. “And a hell of a daughter.”

“Well shucks, Paw,” she laughs, obviously very touched by the sentiment. “I guess we both have a bunch to catch up on. But we can do that.”

He snorts and huffs out a grin. “By the way, I’m going to punch your boyfriend in the mouth.” He warns Rachel. “So don’t go screaming at me when it happens.”

“Benny?” She makes an audible huffing sound. “What did he do?”

“You’ll find out.” He won’t say now, but he shrugs. “He deserves it, and he’ll know it.”

“Seems weird, but okay.” Men do weird things sometimes. She’s not so young that she doesn’t know that.

He chuckles and sweeps his head off his head again. “You look like your mother when you wrinkle your nose.”

“It’s funny.” She wrinkles her nose again but consciously, wondering if she really does look like you that way. “She always said I had your smile. And your ears.”

Frankie reaches out and brushes her curls back behind her ears and smiles. “You do have my ears.” He admits.

“Is it weird? She asks, stifling a laugh. “To realize that?”

“Surreal.” He admits with a sigh. “I don’t know what to think. I went from being too old to have a six-month-old, to being the dad to a grown ass woman.”

“I was teasing Mom about wanting a little sister last night,” Rachel admits with a groan at the irony. “Shows me right.”

Frankie smirks slightly and shrugs. “Isn’t life sometimes a kick in the teeth?”

******

“What a Fucking kick in the teeth.” Will pushes out a sigh in the backyard, cracking open the beer he grabbed from the cooler Fish brought.

“Yeah.” Pope frowns at the grill, pushing the perfectly aligned burgers with the spatula. “Who would have thought?”

"What are you gonna do?" It's not as though Pope has had a lot of time to think, but Will knows him long enough to know that the wheels are already spinning. They have all heard Fish talk about his gatita, and now that they know who she is? It at least warrants a reaction.

Pope glances over at Will before he looks back at the grill, his movements a little stiffer than just a moment before. “What can I do?” He asks rhetorically. “She was his first.”

"Just because she was his first doesn't mean that he has to be her last," Benny offers, not quite sure what else to say. They all know that Pope had been starting to fall for you, even if it had never been said. Now he is very obviously pulling back.

"No, but she would want him to be." He admits quietly. "She had told me about her first love. She didn't tell me his name." He says pointedly when Benny opens his mouth to ask the obvious question. "But she told me enough to know that she's still in love with him. And we know that Frankie never got over her."

"So it's not about stepping back," Will observes, sipping his beer in the hot Florida sun. "It's about letting them be together."

Closing the grill, Pope sighs, hands on his hips as he looks around the backyard and comes to his decision. "Don't you think Fish deserves to be happy?" He asks quietly.

"Of course he does." The idea that Will might think otherwise practically makes him clutch his proverbial pearls.

"And fuck knows we want Marie gone," Benny huffs under his breath.

"His gatita is the one to make both of those wishes come true." He's sure of it and he will bow out like a gentleman. It's the least he can do since the last half year of hell in his personal life is partially his responsibility. He had pushed Fish to come to South America. Pope looks back at both of the other men. "Want to help me fix Fish's life?"

Benny is the first to smirk, clapping his hands together and rubbing them dramatically. "You gonna pull a binder out of your ass or are we talking this one through?"

"First, I'm going to get really drunk and pretend like I'm not falling on a sword." Pope snorts, snatching the beer out of Will's hand and taking a drink. "Then, we're gonna figure out how to get Fish custody of Luna." He tells them quietly. "That little girl is the reason he's still with Marie."

"We just need proof that she's the one with the drug problem." Will mumbles, not wanting to say those words too loud. "And we need his hearing to go through so he can get his damn license back."

"Yeah." He sighs and points at Will. "Can you talk to your ex?" Pope asks, knowing it's a big favor. "She's still working in the DA's office, right? Maybe she can help us? Or know someone who can?" Being a paralegal isn't the same as being an assistant DA, but she knows people.

"I'll see if she can at least point me in the right direction," Will nods in agreement, knowing that as uncomfortable as talking to his ex-fiancée will be, it's definitely the right course of action. "She always like Fish. It shouldn't be too hard to get her to give an e-mail or phone number of who can help."

“Marie isn’t going be happy learning about Rachel.” Pope glances at Benny. “You know that.”

"She's going to be furious." Ben agrees, wiping his hand through his hair and blowing out a raspberry. "She's gonna think Fish kept it from her on purpose."

“Poor bastard looked like he was about to fall over.” Pope sighs. “I hate this.”

"We're gonna make it work," Benny promises him. "Sorry you got shoved into the middle of it, though."

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t and it actually really hurt that he was going to have to end things with you and pretend that he’s just friends with you, but his brother is worth it.

"Better to find out now than a year from now," Will offers, knowing it isn't a whole lot of comfort. But at least it's honest.

“Yeah.” You walk out of the house and he immediately turns to watch you. “Better now.” Santi murmurs, his heart aching.

******

Most people leave around dinner time, splintering off to nighttime plans or to go home to their families. Santiago, Frankie, and the Miller brothers stayed long enough to help you clean up and Rachel is loading the dishwasher when you realize Santiago has gone temporarily missing. On a hunch, you go down the hall to your bedroom and frown to see him there, tucking things back into his duffel bag.

"Decided not the stay the night?"

He hates that you caught him and he stands tall after shoving in a t-shirt and tamping down the guilty feeling. “It’s been a…surprising day.” He tells you. “Figured it might be better to change the plan for tonight.”

"Just for tonight?" You have a feeling you know the answer, but you want it out in the open. No questions or doubts.

His eyes slide away from you and for a moment, he falters. Wondering if this is the wrong thing to do. “No.” He admits, walking over to you and cupping your cheeks in his hand. “I am— was— falling in love with you.” He won’t lie to you. “But you’ve been in love with Frank for far longer than you’ve loved me.”

It's enormously frustrating for him to be both presumptuous and right. The last thing you want is to admit it, especially as tears press at the back of your eyes, and so a protest comes out of your mouth instead. "He's with someone else," you point out, knowing that someone mentioned it earlier. One of the Miller brothers, you think. "He's—he's—it's so complicated, Santi."

“I know it is.” His brow pinches together and he leans forward to kiss your forehead. “And if it’s too complicated, I won’t let you twist in the wind.” He promises. “But you deserve to find out if your love for him is still there.”

"This isn't how I saw today ending." Overwhelmed and next to tears was definitely not on the docket, but you're not going to beg him to stay. That's not the kind of girl you are anymore. You haven't been in a long time. "What a shitty birthday."

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Pope closes his own eyes and leans his forehead against yours. “I can stay if you want.” He offers in a whisper, feeling guilty all over as his resolve crumbles.

"You'd feel guilty if you did." He's a good man, that's why. It's part of what you liked so much about him when you met, and part of what's grown on you. "Like you were betraying Frankie."

“I would still stay.” He promises.

"You'd feel guilty and then you'd start to resent me." The defense mechanism of crossing your arms over your chest might guard you in spirit, but it doesn't stop you from feeling like utter dogshit in this moment. "Just...know that this isn't how I wanted things to go between us. That's all."

“I know.” He murmurs softly, the slight smile on his lips ironic. “I know, baby. I didn’t want this either.” He admits. “But I’m still going to be here for you. That won’t change.”

“Could I just ask you one favor before you go?” All things considered, it’s very minor and sort of the least you could possibly ask.

“Anything.” Pope would do anything for you, he’s proving that, but he wouldn’t deny you simple request if it’s in his power to take care of it.

“I don’t know if you’re going to see them at all tonight or not but just…don’t tell Rachel yet? She’s going to spend the night with Ben again and I know her. She’ll come straight home to be with me instead. I don’t want to ruin her night.”

He chuckles softly, aware of what that says about you as a mom. “You are a good woman.” He murmurs, leaning in kissing your forehead again. “I won’t say anything to her.”

“I’ll tell her tomorrow.” You promise him. It’s not that you want to hide things from her — it’s that you know she’ll act rashly out of loyalty to you if she finds out tonight. She might even break up with Ben, which is the last thing she actually wants or that you want for her.

“When you tell her is up to you.” He would never think that he should have an input on your relationship with Rachel or when you tell her. “Whenever you are comfortable.”

“Well…” A shrug and a half sigh are the best you can do, not really sure of what else to say. Maybe you’ll get on Pet Finder tonight and look for a cat. Or three.

“Oh…” Pope reaches into his bag and pulls out your gift. “I didn’t want to give this to you in front of everyone.” He tells you quietly. “But this is for you.”

“You didn’t have to.” Especially now. Especially with everything that’s happened today. But you still smile weakly and accept the bag. Yup. It’s gonna be me and three cranky, elderly cats. That’s my future. “I—um, thank you. It’s…very sweet of you. You’re a very sweet person.”

“No, I’m not.” Pope snorts as he steps back. “But you are worth the effort.”

Impulsively, it does make you want to ask why he’s leaving, then. But you know the answer. You know this is about you and Frankie having a past and that nothing is going to change Santiago’s loyalty to his best friend. What’s even more annoying is that you like that about him, it hits harder and hurts more. All you can say without letting the emotions through the floodgates is just to excuse yourself to grab the book of his that you borrowed because it’s downstairs in the living room.

Staring at the door, Pope sighs and pulls his phone out of his pocket to text Will. Deciding that he needs a drink after the emotional rollercoaster of the day.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

[qveerthe0ry]

If You're Crazy Too

Summary: It isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you, helping your friend with benefits confess his love for his longtime friend and roommate. But it’s definitely in the top ten. Word Count: 8,600 Pairing: Santi x m!amab!reader x Frankie Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, mutual masturbation, watching porn together, threesome, handjobs, ass eating, oral sex (m receiving), anal fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up), dirty talk, dom/sub undertones, polyamory Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar thank you both so much, you're angels for helping me through this <3 A/N: Special thanks to the author of this post for making an excellent resource for writing Spanish in fics, it came SO in handy. Also thanks to @triplefrontier-anniversary for inspiring me to finish getting this brainworm all written down before the deadline!

Santi is an incredible fuck. Also, he’s a fairly sweet guy. 

You met him at your favorite club. He’d been dancing with men and women all night long, graceful and respectful, and you itched to get your turn with him. 

When you finally got the chance, his body was solid and sweaty and sure against your own. 

You could barely hear him over the music when he told you, lips brushing over your ear, that he was hoping you’d seek him out. 

He kissed you, after a few songs, and you met it with an eagerness you didn’t even know you had in you. It wasn’t long before he asked you to come back to his place, and he made you fall apart underneath him. 

The morning after wouldn’t have been awkward, either, if his roommate hadn’t been cooking breakfast for the both of you. 

Santi introduced him as “Frankie, or Catfish, or Fish.” He was gorgeous, too, in a softer way than Santi. His brown eyes were wider and less menacing than Santi’s, and his curls peeked out under a well-worn trucker’s cap.

He said it was nice to meet you, and asked how you liked your eggs, and if you were way too loud the night before with Santi, he didn’t mention it. You did, however, catch him sneaking glances at Santi while the three of you ate, and wondered what they meant. 

It didn’t matter much at the time when you thought you’d never see Santi again. But he walked you to your Uber after breakfast, and asked if you maybe wanted to do this again, no pressure, no strings attached. And you did. So you exchanged numbers and he kissed you on the cheek before sending you off. 

You’ve met up with him a few times now. Each time Frankie makes himself scarce. You either hear the TV in his room, or you pass him on your way in, telling you he’s got errands to run. What errands he’s running at 10pm, you’re not sure you want to know, but you don’t think much of it. 

Until now. You knock on the front door of their apartment and hear voices, too muffled to make anything out clearly. 

Santi answers before too long with a smile, and you follow, intent to trail him to his bedroom like you usually do. 

This time, though, Frankie’s sat on the couch in the living room, a beer in his hand, and he looks like someone just kicked his puppy.

“Am I, uh, interrupting something? We can rain check.” 

Frankie looks to you, and then to Santi, and you feel like you have your answer before either of them speak. 

“No, no, you haven’t interrupted anything,” Santi starts, “it’s just our favorite OnlyFans guy released a new video a few days ago and we haven’t had the chance to watch it yet. Fish is a little eager.”

“Fuck you, I’m not. Just thought we were watching it today is all. No big deal.” 

It’s a lot of information to process, that these two not only share a favorite OnlyFans creator, but watch his videos together. And— not to assume, but you’re sure they probably do other things together too. 

“Oh… I mean, I don’t want to ruin your plans.”

“It’s fine—“

Frankie’s reassurance is cut off by Santi though, something that seems like a common occurrence by the way he settles back into his seat and closes his lips when Santi begins to speak. 

“You wanna watch with us? First orgasm of the night, but I promise I’ll make it up to you after.” 

And fuck it, you think. It isn’t quite what you imagined when you left your place, but it doesn’t sound like a terrible way to spend your Friday night. 

“I’m down,” you shrug, and Santi’s eyes crinkle when he smiles and winks at you. 

He turns the lights off while Frankie casts the video to the TV. You settle in the armchair, as Fish looks a little uncomfortable, but he assures you he isn’t when you check in with him. 

Santi takes the opposite side of the couch as Frankie, and then he’s ordering him to start the video. 

The bar on the bottom reads 45:06. Longer than you expected. The video is well-edited with soft royalty-free music over a logo that fades when the man appears on screen. 

You chance a small glance at the couch. You aren’t really sure what the etiquette is here, but neither of them seem to be making any moves yet, hands resting on their own thighs. You mirror them, subtly shifting to do so, and avert your eyes to the television once more. 

The man on the screen is a wicked dirty talker. He spends a good five minutes telling the viewer what he wants done to him. He’s also quite submissive by the sounds of it, which shouldn’t come as a surprise to you. Santi loves the way you submit to him, tells you so every time you hook up. 

You find yourself wondering what Frankie likes in the bedroom, if he’s also just as dominant as Santi, if he’s more sweet or hardened, if he would be vocal like Santi or more reserved like he seems to be in his daily life. 

Before you realize it, the man on the screen is stripping down into a skimpy, lacy set of underthings. His cock is on the smaller side but rock hard and leaking, tenting his little lacy briefs in a deliciously obscene display. Your cock stirs at the sight, and you peek over at the couch again. 

Frankie’s palming the bulge in his sweatpants, eyes glued to the screen so diligently that you think it’s calculated. Santi, in contrast, has his hand under the waistband of his gym shorts already. 

But you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker from the screen, and not to you, but to Frankie, flitting up and down quickly from his face to his lap. 

You try not to sigh too loudly as you cradle your own package, half-hard in your own skimpy briefs you wore just for Santi. You watch as the man on the screen turns his back to the camera and bends over, allows the camera to get a full view of the outline of the plug nestled between his juicy ass cheeks. 

The air in the room feels humid, almost too hot as the video goes on. You definitely get why this guy is their favorite OnlyFans creator. He’s gorgeous, first of all, all lithe muscle, soft in the perfect places. And he’s an incredible performer. He talks to the camera like he’s talking to you, desperate and breathy. It doesn’t take long for your prick to fully fill out in your briefs. 

The camera angle changes on screen. It cuts to him on all fours on the bed, his hole gaping from removing the plug, his pretty pink cock leaking between his legs. A rough grunt from your left has your eyes wandering to the couch again. 

Santi’s cock is out, and the sight alone makes your mouth water. Thick and glistening in his big hand, his balls sat atop the waistband of his shorts. Your own throbs under the pressure of your palm, and you let yourself sneak a look at Frankie, too. 

He’s finally got his hand down his pants, and you almost feel bad for wondering what his cock is like, too. If it would mirror the differences between he and Santi’s bodies, longer but thinner. You wonder if he’s uncut like Santi is, and you wonder what he’d taste like. 

A loud whimper makes you peel your eyes away from the couch and look back at the TV. The guy is three fingers deep in himself, fucking them in along with the messy amount of lube he’s used. It’s fucking hot, and you throw all caution to the wind to unzip your jeans and pull your cock free from its confines. 

“He’s fucking hot right?” 

You turn your head to Santi at the sound of his voice. Your heart picks up at the sight of him, one hand stroking his balls while the other works slowly up and down his shaft. 

You squeeze your own in response. 

“Yeah, not exactly my type but he’s still doing it for me.” 

Santi chuckles, nods his head back to the screen. But before you turn back yourself, you see Fish glance at Santi out of the corner of his eye. He starts to shuffle his waistband down his hips, but you turn away before you see anything you think you shouldn’t. 

The guy on the screen is limber. On his back now, knees pressed to his chest, he’s whining and whimpering while he fucks himself with a big, realistic dildo. 

It’s massive, much bigger than any real cock you’ve taken, but you guess that’s some of the appeal. You try to quietly spit in your hand, then spread it up and down as you lazily stroke yourself off to the video. 

It’s loud. The obscene squelching and consequential moans fill the living room, but not enough that you can’t hear the strokes from both Santi and Frankie on the couch next to you. Occasionally you hear a muffled curse, or a stilted gasp, and you can’t be sure which man they’re coming from but you want to hear more. 

You glance over again. Your eyes land on Santi first, of course, who’s almost shamelessly staring at Frankie’s crotch, the way he lifts his hips to fuck into his fist every few thrusts. 

Frankie’s cock is longer, and thinner, and you’re delighted to find that he isn’t circumcised either, the fat head of his cock disappearing and reappearing from under his foreskin. 

He turns his head, and you stop stroking your cock all together, afraid of Fish’s reaction to you sneaking a peek. Only, when you meet his eyes to shoot him an apologetic look, he’s not looking at you. 

He’s looking at Santi, staring, eyes roaming up and down his body, lingering where he fists his prick, then back up again. You’re stunned still at how intimate it feels, the heat in Frankie’s gaze as he licks his plush lips. 

You turn your eyes back to the video with a pounding heartbeat. Your erection begins to wane as you stare through the TV. You can’t get it out of your mind, the way they look at each other. You’re surprised they haven’t caught each other looking yet. The heat from both of their gazes looked tangible, hungry and yearning. It’s as plain as day to you, on the outside looking in. 

“Ah fuck—” 

The curse is not from Santi. Your eyes trail over just in time to see Frankie pull his shirt up and spill across his stomach. His eyes are closed, head thrown back against the wall behind the couch, and you see Santi’s fist speed up, a blur of tan skin. 

You watch him watch Frankie, unabashed now as Fish’s eyes are shut in bliss, and Santi comes too with a deep hum, closing his own eyes just in time for Frankie to open his and look at the both of you. 

He quickly averts his gaze when he sees you staring, reaches for the tissue box on the coffee table in front of him. In a move that looks so familiar, he pulls out two for himself, and then two for Santi, handing them over with practiced ease. 

Santi pants out a gruff gracias and uses one to clean up with, then holds out his hand to offer you the other. 

“Oh— no thanks, I’m good. Didn’t quite get there.” 

Santi hums, uses the extra tissue to finish wiping himself up. 

“What’s wrong, hermoso? Have I ruined you for all other men?”

His grin is cocky when he asks, tucking himself back into his shorts. 

“Yeah Santi, that’s it.”

You roll your eyes and look over to Fish as if to say this fuckin’ guy, but he’s busy boring a hole into the paused TV screen like his life depends on it. 

Your dick is hanging fairly limp out of your underwear, so you stow it away, pull your jeans back up. 

“Don’t bother,” Santi tells you, nodding his head toward his bedroom, “let me make it up to you now.” 

So with your fly undone, you stand on weary legs and follow Santi to his room. When you make it, you turn back to Frankie, to say thank you or sorry, you can’t be sure, because he’s already closing his own bedroom door behind him. 

Santi makes good on his promise, though. He eats your ass for what feels like hours, until you’re shaking and begging for him to fuck you. And then he does, somehow riding the perfect line between rough and tender, holding your back against his front with one big hand on your chest as you both kneel on the bed. His other hand works your cock so perfectly that you come unglued in a grand way, like you always do with him. 

He cleans you up after, gentle. He’s a huge cuddler, so it doesn’t phase you anymore when he spoons you close and presses his mouth along the little love bites he’s left. 

“You really aren’t into subs, are you? Not even a little bit?” 

You know he’s referencing your lack of interest in the video. You could agree with him, or you could tell him the truth. You’re not sure what to do, and so you sit in silence for some time before you decide to bite the bullet. 

“It isn’t that. I mean, I am more into doms but— that wasn’t it.” 

You feel him go stiff behind you. 

“Shit, was that too weird for you? I didn’t mean to force you into—“

“No! No, Santi, it was fine. I just— you’re into Frankie, right?” 

Air escapes his lungs in something akin to a sob. 

“What!? Why would you say that?”

He’s not denying it, which is a good step. 

“C’mon man, you were watching him more than you were watching the TV.”

“Pendejo, no I wasn’t.” 

“Pendejo” you mock him, “don’t gaslight me. I don’t care. This isn’t, we’re no strings, right? I’m just saying, I don’t wanna come between this thing.”

“There’s no thing to come between. Even if you were right, which you’re not, Fish isn’t into me like that.”

You laugh. 

“O-kay.”

“Don’t ‘okay’ me. How would you know? You’ve known him for a grand total of an hour and a half.” 

“He was looking at you, too. You know that, right? You’re just in denial?”

“I would’ve seen if he was looking at me.”

“Because you were looking at him.”

“Fine! Okay, I was looking at him. He wasn’t looking at me so what’s it even matter?” 

“He was, Santi. He was looking at your cock and licking his lips like he was starved. I saw it.”

Santi huffs behind you, and it tickles your neck. 

“I’m not lying to you. I’m not in love with you or anything but I care about you a little bit.”

His arm around you tightens for a beat.

“Awww, so sweet, querido.”

“Shut up,” you huff, “you’re changing the subject. He was looking at you, like he’s always looking at you. I’ve watched him moon over you every single breakfast I’ve eaten here. You know how bad that makes me feel, eating the breakfast he made me while your cum drips out of me?”

“Fuck, why’d you say it like that? That’s so hot.”

“Because it’s true. If you guys have feelings for each other you need to figure that out before I die of a guilty conscience.”

You can practically feel Santi’s eyes roll behind you. 

“Dramático,” he groans. 

“You do have feelings for him. It seems like he does too. Get your poop in a group about it, man.”

“Will you still stay over? I’ll need a morning fuck if this is the way my weekend’s gonna go.” 

——

I can’t do it. Frankie’s visiting his kid this weekend

The text comes a few hours after you shared your now routine, dysfunctional family breakfast, where Fish was indeed making googly eyes at Santi, and Santi’s cum was indeed leaking out into your underwear.

Likely story

No really. I don’t want to mess with his vibes, his kid is super important to him. It’s cute.

Oh my god just fuck him already

I’m TRYING okay? Can you help? I need moral support.

And look, it isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you, helping your friend with benefits confess his love for his longtime friend and roommate. But it’s definitely in the top ten. 

So the two of you devise a plan. It’s convoluted as all hell, but also fairly simple. The next time their OnlyFans guy posts a video, Santi invites you over to watch again. Conveniently, just before you arrive, he spills a glass of red wine all over the seat of the armchair, and soaks the cushion trying to get the stain out of the beige fabric. 

You show up, ‘none the wiser.’ Still, the vibes are absolutely weird in their two bedroom apartment. Frankie’s fidgeting on the couch, and Santi misses your cheek and plants a kiss to your eyelid. You have to get these boys together. 

The plan goes off without a hitch from there. Santi flicks off the lights, and Frankie casts the video to the TV, just like they did last time, just like they’ve probably done dozens of times before. But now, the armchair is out of commission, so you all squeeze together on the couch. Santi’s in the middle, of course, his thick thigh pressing against your own as you all point your attention to the flatscreen. 

You’re kind of excited. It’s a weird thing for you to be excited about, but you weren’t lying all those days ago. You do care for Santi. And Fish too, really, if only for the delicious breakfasts he makes, and for making Santi happy. 

This time, you don’t wait for any of their cues. You pull your cock out as soon as the OnlyFans guy starts stripping his clothes. Santi grabs your hand, and for a second you think you’ve ruined the plan. But then spits into it, and Frankie groans from Santi’s other side as he watches the display. You moan a little too, partly for show, partly for the way Santi never fails to make your dick rock hard in record time. 

You stroke yourself, and it goads the boys into pulling their pants down, too. The guy on the screen is doing things a little differently this time, fingering a see-through fleshlight as he lubes it up. This is hotter to you, anyway. It doesn’t take long at all for pre-cum to gather at your slit and slick your strokes even more. 

By the time the guy is fucking into it with timid strokes, whimpering through the speakers, Santi still hasn’t made a move. You elbow him in the side, and he flinches, then elbows you right back. 

You turn your head toward him, make like you’re kissing his neck, because Frankie’s eyes are about to pop out of his skull with the way he’s got them trained on Santi. 

“Go on. You already have an audience,” you whisper. 

Santi shudders, and Frankie looks away. Just in time, too. Santi eyes the way Fish is stroking himself, and then you hold your breath as Santi lifts his hand and wraps it around the base of Frankie’s cock. 

“Ohmyfuckinggod.”

Frankie’s head thunks against the wall behind him, and his hips jolt up into the touch. You’re watching without any hesitation now, and Fish’s eyes are closed anyway. Santi squeezes and Frankie whimpers and scrambles to find Santi’s cock without looking. 

“Fuck, Fish. Yeah?”

Santi’s voice is dripping with arousal, low and gruff, his cock twitching in Frankie’s grasp. 

“Please, please.”

Frankie finally opens his eyes, lets his head loll to the side to look at Santi. But his eyes quickly flutter to you, his expression twisting up in confusion. 

“Santi, what—“

“Shhh, hermano, s’okay.”

You lean forward, and for a moment you’re having an out-of-body experience, watching yourself cradle into Santi’s side, not knowing if you’re helping or hurting their cause, but wanting to reassure them both that this is a good thing.

Frankie takes the encouragement for what it is, allowing himself to fuck up into Santi’s fist and look at him with hooded eyes, mouth gaping open. 

Like a fish, you think, and chuckle against Santi’s neck. 

“What’s happening? Why?”

Frankie looks between the two of you for an answer, and you bite down on Santi’s earlobe to goad him to answer. 

“He caught you looking, last time. Caught me looking at you, too. Put two and two together for me. This okay?”

Frankie shudders and closes his eyes, but nods his head. 

You watch both of them, their hands on each other’s pricks, their hips meeting the thrust of foreign fists. 

“Waited so long,” Frankie whispers. 

“Lo sé, me too.”

Their faces inch toward each other, and you nuzzle the curls at the nape of Santi’s neck. To encourage him, or maybe to shield your eyes from the intimate moment, or probably both. 

You feel the kiss, the way Santi’s neck cranes and flexes, and you hear the ragged moans from their lungs, and you are rock hard.

But your work here is done. You may need to jerk off in Santi’s bathroom before you leave, lest you tumble down the apartment stairs since there’s hardly any blood flow to anywhere other than your dick. 

But as you make to get up, Santi’s free hand plants firmly on your thigh. You still behind him, a rush of awkwardness flushes through your system. 

His head leans back when he pulls away from the kiss, and you watch the way Frankie physically recovers from it, takes a big lungful of air and slowly opens his eyes, licks the taste of Santi from his lips. 

“What do you think, Fish? Should we thank him?” 

Your cock throbs where it’s pressed against Santi, and you feel him chuckle, but Frankie’s nodding his head fast and looking straight at you. 

“Yeah, yes,” he answers, breathless. 

“My bedroom or yours, hermano?”

“I couldn’t give any less of a shit.”

They both laugh, and you find it in you to huff, but it’s anything but authentic when all you can think about is having these two men in bed with you, thanking you. 

“Go get comfy, yeah? We’ll be there in a minute,” Santi tells you. 

You’ve never moved more swiftly in your life, and you’re sure it looks so graceful, walking to Santi’s room with your hard prick swaying in the wind. But you, like Frankie, couldn’t give any less of a shit. 

You undress in the now familiar bedroom, lie back on freshly washed sheets as you hear Santi and Frankie mumble, incoherent all the way out in the living room. Your heart rate picks up when you hear footsteps, but only one pair, and Santi struts in. You can hear rustling from beyond the door, a kitchen cabinet opening and closing. 

“He‘a grabbing us some waters. I wanted to check in, make sure this is all okay? I know it wasn’t the plan.”

Now you laugh. 

“Is it okay? Do I want two gorgeous men thanking me for squishing their heads together like Barbie dolls? It’s more than okay.”

Santi clicks his tongue at you. 

“No need for the sass.”

Your blood runs cold at his tone shift, even as his lips quirk up just the tiniest bit at each corner. 

Frankie walks in, then, and almost looks startled by the staring match happening. Still, he wades further into the room, sets a few glasses of water down on the nightstand. 

You’re suddenly feeling self-conscious, naked and spread out on the bed in front of these two men, fully clothed and practically leering at you. Frankie’s not so shy now; you can feel his eyes on you as they roam across every inch of exposed skin. It’s a heated, tense moment that only breaks when Santi tugs Frankie to him by the hem of his shirt. 

Christ, is it hot to watch, the way Fish’s body goes lax as Santi’s tenses, grabbing the back of his neck. His strong arm flexes as his hand gets lost in Frankie’s curls. They share a kiss that looks like less lips and more teeth. Then Santi’s sliding his hands under Frankie’s shirt, along his flanks, exposing smooth, tan skin. 

They part to fling their shirts off, and you can’t help it, you reach down to touch yourself. You’re watching something beautiful. Their dance is stilted with novelty but still looks so easy, familiar in an unfamiliar way. 

Their noses bump together awkwardly at times, but their hands map out patterns across each other’s bodies that look practiced, like they’ve done this thousands of times before, if only in their dreams. 

And they look incredible together. Santi’s thick and bulky, skin so taught over his frame. And Frankie is leaner, corded muscle covered in softer flesh. It looks so squeezable. It is, you find out, second-hand, by the way Santi grabs him by the hips and pulls him closer, just to push him away to get his pants down. 

They don’t part for long, and you’re stuck in this haze, a participant only by the way you’re sliding your hand lazily up and down your shaft while you watch them. Santi hasn’t waxed since you first met him, and now all that chest hair is growing in, a stark contrast to Fish’s hairless one. And you know it feels incredible, to be in Frankie’s position, getting scratched by all that wiry hair. You know his own hairless chest will be red and splotchy by the time the night ends, like yours has been countless nights before. 

Finally, they come up for air, naked and heaving breaths across each other’s faces as they share a look. Santi raises his strong brow, tilts his head in your direction, and you’re snapped out of your voyeuristic state. 

“Let’s show some gratitude, yeah?” 

His voice is all low and hoarse, and you watch it affect Frankie in the same way it affects you, cocks jumping. And fuck, Fish does exactly as he’s told once Santi coaxes him with a playful slap to his ass. He crawls up between your legs, and his full lips are even more so now, bitten and slick and deep red. Glancing up at you with those long, pretty, fluttery lashes, his sweet brown eyes are all heavy-lidded and hesitant. 

“This is okay?” 

His voice is small, and he’s so goddamn perfect. 

“Yes, Frankie. Please.”

You both exhale at the same time, and then he gets to it, immediately. His tongue hangs out of his mouth when he opens it wide, and he wastes no time sinking down on your prick. 

“Jesus Christ, Fish.” 

You damn near give yourself whiplash to look over to Santi, frozen in place next to the bed, eyes glued to where you and Frankie connect. The latter moans around your cock, encouraged to bob his head faster already, take you deeper. 

“Knew you’d be such a good little cocksucker with those pretty lips. Fuck.” 

It’s so hot, it’s too hot. You’re going to blow in record time with the warmth of Frankie’s mouth and the filth Santi is reciting. 

He must see it in your face, the panic of this all being over way quicker than you want it to be. He kneels on the bed beside you both, gets a hand in Fish’s silky curls and you see the shudder that cascades down his body. 

“Not a race, hermano,” Santi says, tugging at his hair to get him to lift off of your leaking prick. 

Fish stares, wide-eyes and ragged breathing, as Santi arranges himself to lie beside him, both of their faces now inches from your throbbing cock. 

“Control freak,” Frankie mumbles, but the smile on his face makes any heat from his words dissipate.

Santi punishes him with a bruising kiss anyway. Your hips jolt as Frankie’s hair brushes across your dick, so on-edge that even that whisper of a touch sends you reeling. 

Santi chuckles around Fish’s bottom lip that he’s got between his teeth. 

“He so sensitive, Fish. Gotta take it slow, alright?” 

It makes your entire body burn, the way he’s talking about you like you’re not even there. The way he’s been guiding Frankie through everything so far, and the way Frankie follows so obediently. 

Santi shuffles a bit, and Fish does too, so in-sync that you almost laugh. Their unplanned choreography has them both straddling one of your legs respectively, arms in between, their hands finding each other just close enough to your heavy sac that you can feel the heat coming off of them. 

They both look up at you, and for a moment everything is so eerily perfect that it feels like you’re in some sick, twisted Truman Show remake, and this was all a ploy to get you into bed with them. 

But then Santi looks at Frankie, a soft bueno? uttered toward him, and Frankie nods. Santi leans in, for what you assume is to kiss him more, but his nose brushes the base of your shaft. And then Fish leans in too, his own strong nose nuzzling just under your head. 

Your hands find purchase on the backs of their necks, a light touch to ground yourself as you watch. It’s so fucking intimate, and you’re the catalyst for their exploration, and it’s driving you up the goddamn wall. Your curse and watch twin grins break out on their faces. 

Shitheads, both of them. 

They continue on with this dance, breathing in your scent as they nose up and down your cock. Their eyes open and close, but their gazes always seem to land on each other at the same time. 

And then Santi leads, licking a long stripe up the side of you. Frankie follows eagerly once he catches on, meeting him for a sloppy dance of tongues all over the head of your dick, your frenulum, lapping up the pre-cum that’s been steadily leaking from your slit. 

It jerks wildly under their loose attention, and Frankie chuckles deep and low as he chases your cock and Santi’s mouth at the same time. Your nails start to bite into their napes, the burning in your gut becoming far too intense. 

“Guys,” you gasp, “I— fuck. I can’t.” 

Santi hums, leaves a playful nip at the base of your prick that nearly sends you over the edge. Fish lets up, intent to lick up every last drop of your taste from Santi’s mouth, and groans when he succeeds.

You’re all left panting for a minute. You can’t decide who to look at. Santi’s head has fallen onto your thigh, and Frankie’s propped up on an elbow, staring down at him, all along the dips and curves of his tan skin. Santi gets a hand around Fish’s cock, thumbing under the head in slow circles, soothing and relaxed. 

“Everyone still having a good time?” 

Santi’s tone implies he already knows the answer. A weak Jesus, yes huffs out of your vocal chords, just as Frankie nods his head eagerly where it rests in his palm. 

Santi cranes his neck to look up at you, and already you know you’re in for it, a wicked glint in his eyes. 

“You want Fish to fuck you?” 

Your cock throbs near their heads, and Frankie snorts. 

“Think that’s a yes, huh?”

You answer Fish with a nod. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone but Santi. The thought shorts out all the wires in your system as you realize you get to learn him this way, what he’s into, what he’ll want to do to you, and how different it is from his counterpart. 

“All fours, both of you. He’ll let you eat his ass for hours, Fish,” Santi instructs. 

“Jesus.”

If it weren’t for the way Frankie scrambles to get into position, you’d ask if he was alright with it. But once he’s hovering on his hands and knees between your legs, he’s manhandling you to do the same, and you love it.

Your cock sways and leaks between your thighs, and Fish pulls and tugs to get you exactly how he wants you. You feel even more exposed than usual like this, with these two men behind you. He spreads you open for him, and you feel your hole clench and relax as it’s exposed to the humid air of the bedroom. 

Then he spits, perfectly aimed, and you feel his saliva trickle all the way down your taint, tickling your balls as it drips onto the sheets. 

A puff of hot air is all the warning you get before his tongue is following that same trail in reverse, all the way up to where your crack meets your back, and then back down, and your elbows buckle and so does your resolve. 

You moan a mix of curses and Frankie’s name, and it only eggs him on, gets him to zero in on your rim with his tongue, circling then flicking, over and over. 

You try to crane your neck enough to see Santi when you hear him swear. 

“You really fuckin’ like this. Don’t you, Fish?” 

All you can see is his tight curls behind Frankie’s own arched back, and his big hands wrapped around Frankie’s slender hips. 

You feel Frankie answer him, an incoherent groan into your asshole as the tip of his tongue breaches you. 

You’re on fire. Your cock is leaking a really pathetic stream onto Santi’s bedding, neglected, and you know you won’t come without any friction, but you also don’t want to. Not for a while, not until you get to feel Frankie’s cock inside you, get to see Santi watch him fuck you. 

You’re anything but impatient, though. Santi was right, the smug asshole. You could keep Fish here for eternity, especially with how fucking diligent his tongue is, lapping you up and pressing inside of you, over and over. It’s dizzying, especially when he begins making desperate noises against you. 

You know he’s in for the time of his life. Santi, as smug as he is, loves eating your ass ‘for hours.’ He’s fucking sloppy with it, and he does this thing with his thumbs that drives you—

“Fuck! Ay dios, Pope, what the fuck?”

Frankie falls lax into you, his nose against your hole and his lips brushing your taint as he curses. 

“Yeah, you like that? Want me inside this cute little ass?” 

Fish whines, shifts his face so he can bite the tender flesh where your thigh and ass meet, and all you can do is groan and push back into him as he gives Santi his answer. 

“Damelo, need you, please.”

Santi hums, and you can tell by how it’s muffled that his mouth is once again occupied. Frankie recovers, though his tongue is much less coordinated now, a messy flurry of licks as he prods at your entrance. 

Then you hear it, the click of a bottle opening, bouncing off the bedroom walls in a familiar way. You clench around Frankie’s tongue, a Pavlovian response, and he groans and fits his lips around your hole and sucks. 

You’re babbling now, strings of nonsense, begging, and praise in the otherwise silent bedroom. You know the exact moment Santi sinks his thick finger inside of Frankie, because you feel him stiffen and shake against you, feel his nails dig into the meat of your cheeks where he’s spreading you open. 

His mouth retreats, and you whine, but he’s tugging on you again to get you to lie on your back. 

It’s a fucking sight when you’re finally able to watch. Fish has his back arched like a goddamn cat, presenting his ass to Santi, mouth gaping open at his skilled fingers.

Santi’s looking over him, one large hand splayed out on his back to keep him still as he fucks into him with what you assume is at least three fingers, the way Frankie’s drool is dripping from the corner of his mouth. Santi’s eyes are glued to his ministrations, where he’s slowly thrusting in and out, his big bicep flexing as he goes. 

He manages to tear his eyes away, though, to look at you and wink. 

“How’d he do? Think he deserves to fuck you, papi?”

You whimper at the mere thought of it, finally feeling him inside you. 

You shake your head, but Santi tuts. 

“Yeah— Yes, Santi. He did so good.” 

Santi’s lips tilt up into a wicked smirk.

“There he is, that’s it, tell Francisco how good he is for us, huh?”

You see Frankie’s cock throb between his legs, hear a pathetic little noise fall from his lips. You and Santi both get a curious but delighted look on your faces at his reaction. 

“Did so good, Francisco.” 

He shivers, hides his face in the bedding between your thighs for a hot minute. A lungful of air escapes him, slow and methodical, before he tilts his head back to Santi. 

“Lube?” 

Santi huffs, tosses the bottle next to Fish’s head. 

“Doesn’t take long for him. He likes the stretch, don’t you bebito?”

You huff, and your face feels hot and prickly as both men look at you. You squirm, and you don’t want to answer, you want at least a tiny bit of pride going into this, because you know you’re bound to come out the other side with absolutely none. 

“He asked you a question,” Frankie says. 

His gruff voice makes your breath catch. 

Santi hums his approval behind him. 

“Yeah, yeah, just— just two, give me two and I’ll be good.”

“What do you say, papi?” 

And Jesus, this is the most Frankie’s said all night and it has your toes curling. 

“Please, Frankie.”

He makes a patronizing, satisfied noise that makes you want to hide but also expose yourself even more. You want to give him everything, him and Santi, let them use you to get their pleasure however they want. 

But then Fish groans, and you see Santi’s arm twisting behind him, reaching for that perfect spot. He makes a mess squirting lube out onto his fingers, and you at least have enough control of your faculties to lift your sac out of the way so Frankie can spread it across your hole. 

It twitches under his fingers, begging, and so are you, just incoherent babbles as he teases you, toys with you. You think you maybe could wait him out, knowing he doesn’t get his until his cock is pressed inside you, but you don’t want to. 

“Fuck,” you whimper, “please fuck me.” 

“Yeah, good boy, there you are.” 

You open your eyes at Santi’s voice. 

“Give him what he wants, Fish. Give it to him so I can fuck you.” 

Two fingers, right off the bat, pressed in slowly but surely in one swoop to the knuckle. You cry out, reaching for purchase and finding the bedsheets to twist into your clenched fists. 

“You’re okay, you can take it, right?” 

And it’s so goddamn mind-blowing, Santi talking you through it with Frankie’s fingers deep inside you.

You nod, opening your eyes again to look up at him. His eyes are so dark, and he’s stroking his thick cock as he continues stretching Fish out, and he looks hungry. He licks his lips and watches where Frankie’s fucking into you, boring holes where you’re connected. You have to reach down with your free hand and squeeze the base of your prick to get yourself together. 

It doesn’t take long for you to adjust, to relax around his digits with a few deep breaths. He praises you, that’s it, take ‘em so well, wanna be fucked so bad don’t you? Your head spins with it as he works you open. Little by little your legs spread wider for him, hips canting up to direct him to the spot inside you that you want him to reach so desperately. 

But he doesn’t. Once it’s obvious you’re ready to take him, he slips his fingers out and wipes the residue on the inside of your thigh. 

“Gonna take me now?” 

It’s a rhetorical question, obviously, as he grips behind your knees and pushes them to your chest. You answer anyway, your own voice so foreign to your ears as you plead for him. 

Santi shushes you, and that familiar noise is calming enough to bring you back down to Earth, where he’s resting behind Frankie, one hand caressing his chest while the other grips his waist. 

“Wanna be inside you, Fish,” he mumbles, nose pressed behind his ear, lips teasing his earlobe. 

Fish’s eyes close, but he guides the head of his dick to your entrance and sinks in, blinding pressure as the head of him stretches you wide. When it slips past, you both gasp, and Santi groans into Frankie’s neck as he watches. 

It feels like years, waiting for him to seat himself all the way inside you. It burns in the best way, friction that has goosebumps dotting every square inch of skin. 

But then his thighs reach the backs of yours. He curses, moves your legs out of the way so he can cover your body with his own. Santi’s gaze is heavy where it falls, the place you and Frankie are fused together, as he spreads a healthy dollop of lube over his prick. 

“Ready for me, baby?” 

It’s palpable, the way the energy of the room shifts when Santi presses closer behind Frankie. Like he’s about to step off a ledge, Fish’s eyes widen and he looks at you with his brows drawn up tight. You reach for his curls, run your fingers through them, scrape your nails across his scalp in hopes that it evens out his breathing a bit. 

Past Frankie’s shaking form, Santi’s expression is nearly identical. His bottom lip is caged between his teeth, brow furrowed, shoulders squared. His eyes flicker to you, and his features soften just a fraction before his hips begin to press forward. 

Frankie sobs at first contact. His sweaty forehead falls to your chest. His cock is jerking inside you, rhythmic pulses as you watch Santi’s hips slowly inch forward. 

“Relax for me, Fish. Deep breaths, baby. I’ve got you, take it for me.”

Santi sounds so wrecked. His voice is wispy, and so deep you can hardly hear from the bass in it. He’s never really sounded this way before, and the reality of this entire situation makes you clench around Frankie’s throbbing cock. 

Santi curses in whispers, and you watch the sweat from his forehead drip down, between his eyes, down his nose, and drip onto Frankie’s heated skin. And then Frankie shifts, pulling out of you. And then, you realize, pressing Santi’s cock deeper inside himself. 

You groan at the revelation, chase Fish’s hips with your own, a domino effect that sets both of them off as well. It doesn’t take much at all for them to find the right pace, like this is just as natural as everything else they do together. For a while you just take it in, let Frankie get his pleasure from you, let them discover the feeling of being so close to each other after a long while of only imagining. 

Santi’s signature filthy mouth doesn’t make an appearance. Instead, he looks stunned silent above the both of you. His mouth hangs open like he wants to say something, but all that leaves his lips are grunts and groans that Frankie echoes into your sternum. His eyes don’t know where to look, so they float between where he’s fucking Frankie, and your own roaming eyes, and finally land where your hand grips Frankie’s hair. 

He lets go of one of Fish’s hips to tangle his fingers with your own, tugging on those chestnut curls. Frankie slams his hips into you at the sensation, bites down on the meat of your pec and keens before he lets Santi’s grip pull his head back. 

His eyes are completely fucking black, no iris to be found when his heavy eyelids open to look at you. And it’s a very strange thing, when you watch him look right through you and call out Santi’s name. 

Strange, but fucking hot. 

“Let it happen, Fish.”

“No. I– I can’t.”

“You can, fuck, don’t hold it. Come inside so I can fuck it out of him.”

Frankie crumbles. You watch it happen, his eyes snapping shut as he chokes on a high-pitched sound. His face twists up, and you feel his hips stutter against you as he starts chanting Santi’s name, over and over. His cock jerks with every wave of his release, and he’s shaking, collapsing dead-weight on top of you. 

“That’s it, did so good. Feel so fucking good squeezing me Fish.” 

You’re momentarily squished by the weight of two grown men when Santi rests against Frankie’s back. He kisses where he can reach, soothing the place on his scalp where he was tugging at the hairs. 

“Mierda, Santi, get off you fucking oaf.” 

And it’s cute, the way Frankie gets so grumpy even after he’s just come his brains out. You ruffle his hair, when he’s finally not sandwiched between you two, let him collapse beside you instead with a sweaty arm draped across your middle. 

You only have a few moments to appreciate the tenderness before Santi’s lifting your leg onto his shoulder pressing his thick fingers inside you. The noise is obscene, and Santi swears as Frankie’s cum trickles out of you. 

You know you’re in for it now. Santi sets his jaw and arranges your hips so he can slide right into you. You moan at the feeling, and the knowledge of where his cock has just been, noises tumbling out of you as he picks up the pace where Frankie left off. 

And you almost forget about Fish, caught up in the pleasure of Santi railing you just how he knows you like. But then a warm, trembling hand wraps around your cock, even though Santi’s own are gripping onto you tight, and it’s heaven. 

“Let me see you come,” Frankie says, voice all hoarse and worn out. 

You whine, loll your head to the side to look at him. 

But this time Santi’s hand is grabbing you, just shy of too rough when he takes your chin in his hand. 

“You look at me. Look at me when I make you come, papi.” 

And you take it as an order, because Frankie’s hand speeds up and squeezes tighter, and Santi’s fucking into you deep and fast like he does when he’s about to come. 

You shake with it when it finally happens. Your spend splashes down Fish’s knuckles, up your stomach, your chest, christ some of it even lands on your chin. And you know you’re babbling but you don’t know what words you’re using, only know that they come from high in your throat as you gasp for air. 

Santi follows you so closely, burying himself impossibly deep as he releases. You hear Frankie encouraging him, but the sound is miles away as your head swims in that familiar, blissful place. 

When the ringing in your ears settles, and your vision unblurs, and all your nerve endings don’t feel like they’re on fire anymore, Santi’s cock has been replaced by his tongue. You give a weak protest at the overstimulation as his greedy mouth licks the mess out of you. It doesn’t matter, he comes up for air just as soon as you realize where he’s at. 

Your bleary eyes watch as Santi leans over you, grabs Fish’s face in his hands and tugs at his bottom lip with one of his thumbs. Frankie opens his mouth, obedient as ever, and then a mix of Santi’s cum and his own is tumbling from Santi’s lips into Fish’s mouth. 

Once the damage has been done, an image that will forever be burned into your mind, Santi lets his lips press against Frankie’s. He kisses him deep but slow, savoring the concoction of tastes, until Frankie has to lean back for air. 

And then it’s silent, and still, and a pit of dread makes itself known in your gut in record time. 

“I’ll grab us some towels. Don’t either of you move a muscle.” 

Frankie huffs but stays put. You shake out some of the tensed-up muscles in your legs, grasping for something to say to break the tension. 

Turns out you don’t have to. 

“Bossy little prick,” Frankie mumbles. 

It makes a giggle bubble up out of you, even though it’s not even that funny. You suppose the nervous energy needed out somehow. 

“Don’t know what you see in him,” you agree. 

Frankie hums, tilts his head like he’s contemplating it. 

“I’m kidding. He’s sweet. You’re a lucky guy, so is he.” 

You’re interrupted when Santi reenters, two fluffy towels in hand. You tidy up as best you can, then sigh when you no longer have anything to occupy your hands with. 

“Stay the night?”

And this time, those familiar words are uttered by Frankie. It surprises you. For a moment you think he’s just being nice, appeasing you. But his brown eyes do that same thing that Santi’s do, where they get all wide and watery and it’s impossible to say no. 

So you snuggle under the covers, and it’s a bit awkward at first with an extra set of limbs. Santi takes his coveted position as big spoon, but this time behind Fish. Then Frankie coaxes you closer, a hand at your back to urge you to rest your head on his outstretched arm. 

The three of you talk about how hard you’re all going to sleep, and you close your eyes and listen to two other sets of breaths. You let it lull you to the edge of consciousness. Just before you slip under, Santi’s voice is deep and smooth. 

“Te amo.”

And Frankie’s whisper is just as silky. 

“Te amo.”

—

In the morning, you all wake up slow, and take care of business, and mosey out into the kitchen. It’s natural to watch Frankie make eyes at Santi over his eggs, but you know that Santi’s routine walk to your Uber will be anything but. 

Their apartment door slams heavy behind you two as you head to the normal pick-up spot. 

“So this is probably it, huh?”

You have to force yourself to look at Santi’s face, squinting in the mid-morning sun. 

His brows draw up, and you really hope he doesn’t make this anymore awkward than it needs to be. 

“It doesn’t have to be, no.”

His head shakes back and forth with his declaration, and you almost flinch when he reaches for your hand. 

“Listen. Give us some time, you know? Let us… figure… this out. Once we settle, I wanna see you again. Fish does too.” 

You’re sure your face is doing something funny, because Santi laughs and pushes you. 

“Not gonna get rid of us that easy, cabrón.”

[pedropascalito]

Pedro loves being on set with his buckle undone or what?

[something-tofightfor]

Liminality: Part 3

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 12,165

Rating: NSFW, plain and simple. (the version of Frankie in this comes with his own warning but I don't wanna spoil anything yet so... you'll see.)

Summary: After suggesting that Frankie take you back to his place, the two of you change the terms of your still very new friendship.

But it's fine, you're both adults and can handle a one-off, right?

Author’s note:

This isn't my typical slow burn, and you're all welcome for that. There's a lot of smut, a lot of plot, and maybe even some foreshadowing in here. Hope you like it.

If you ever want to talk about this - or any of my work - my inbox is always open. Enjoy.

Side note: there will be a slight delay with chapter 4 since I'm planning on finishing some Oberyn and Joel before I jump back into this one full force. I hope you understand.

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

Frankie led you up a single step and onto an expansive covered porch complete with furniture and a swing, a string of lights that criss-crossed the underside of the roof bathing you in light. “I hung those.” He pointed up with his free hand. “Pope helped, but …” 

“It’s nice.” You squeezed his hand, nodding. “I saw some in the backyard, too. Did you guys put those up?”

“Mmmhmm.” He typed a code into the door and the lock popped open, Frankie releasing your hand and then settling his on your shoulder. “We can go and sit out there if you want.” 

He’s asking me if I want to sit outside right now? Really? “Maybe some other time.” He pushed gently on your back, urging you into the house. “Right now I’ve got something else in mind.” 

“Me too.” He murmured the words as you both stepped into the living room, soft light spilling down the hallway from in the kitchen to partially illuminate the space. A fireplace? In Florida? “A couple things, actually.” Turning to face him, you tilted your head, waiting. “‘Scuse me.” Frankie reached past you and pushed the door shut, the lock clicking into place - though the position meant that he was much closer to you than he had been at any point that night. “What are your rules?” 

“What?” The question took you by surprise - even though you appreciated him asking. “Rules? What do you mean?” 

“Well I brought you here which means that you don’t have a car. So I’d rather know what your boundaries are now and not … in the middle of things or after when it might get weird.” He’s considerate. He looks like that and he’s … fuck. 

“I don’t know.” Biting the inside of your lip, you eyed him. “What are yours?” 

“No visible marks on my face or body.” He stepped slightly closer, reaching up to run his fingertips along your cheek. “I don’t really mind, but it’s not good for work.” You nodded, because it made sense, but you were still intrigued at the fact that he didn’t mind. “I don’t care what kind of birth control you’re on, I always use a condom.” Lips parting in surprise, you nodded again. Ok, I like that. “If you don’t like something that’s happening, tell me. Don’t wait.” 

“Frankie, I -” You shook your head. How many one night stands does he have if he’s got this many rules? For the first time, you began to doubt your decision, mouth opening to tell him - and then you decided to ask instead. “Do you do this often? You seem prepared?”

“Not often, no.” He was watching you closely, very little space between you. “But this is a special case.” You didn’t understand, your open mouth turning into a frown that Frankie correctly interpreted almost right away. “I don’t usually hook up with … potential clients.” He laughed quietly, taking a long breath. “And I don’t want to scare you away.” He rubbed his thumb gently over your lips, the pad of it pressing against the center of your bottom one. “But I really want to fucking kiss you right now, so -”

You moved first, hands reaching out to grip the material of his shirt to pull him as close as you could. “Then why don’t you?” 

He used his hands to brace his weight - palms flat on the door just above your shoulders - and then Frankie’s mouth met yours with a low growl, the sound vibrating from his throat and against your lips. You gasped when he made contact, fingers tightening against his shirt - but then you stopped thinking. 

Frankie kissed you hard, lips pressed firmly against your mouth, the back of your head hitting the door with a quiet thunk. You sighed, eyes closed, and then slid your hands around to his back, pressing them against his spine and urging him even closer. 

He let you, his hips rocking forward - and when they did, you felt that he was stiffening beneath the jeans he wore, the man not shy about letting you know it. 

Instead of backing away, Frankie’s tongue licked at the seam of your lips, and you didn’t hesitate to part them for him. The kiss turned hungry, and even though you had no desire to break it and ask, it seemed like he’d wanted to do it for a while - the movement of his mouth against yours certain, one hand sliding between the back of your head and the door to cradle it. Fuck. How is he … this is … 

You couldn’t form a coherent thought, and even when he pulled back to take a breath, that remained true. “Wanted to do that since I saw you sitting at that bar.” He spoke quietly, voice husky, the man’s breath fanning over your cheek. “Didn’t think I’d get to though.” 

“Makes two of us.” Taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes, saying his name. “I think I have a rule.” 

“Yeah?” He straightened up, hand still in place and both of yours dropping to settle against his narrow hips. “What?” 

“You need to do that as often as you want.” The smile on his face was radiant, Frankie’s eyes widening as you met his gaze. “Because you’re fucking good at it.” 

“I’m good at other things, too.” He blinked slowly, never looking away from you. “You interested in finding out what they are?” 

“I am.” Nodding, you smiled at him. “But first…” Trailing off, you pulled him closer again, tipping your head so that you could press a kiss to the man’s bearded jawline. “C’mere.” He turned his head enough to kiss you again and that one was slower and more reserved, Frankie letting you take the lead and set the pace. 

You bit gently on the man’s lower lip and then followed it with suction, drawing it between your lips - and Frankie rewarded you with a quiet moan, fingers curling against the back of your head as he chased the kiss. You took that as an invitation, one of your hands rising from his hip to the side of his face, fingertips trailing up and over his sideburn and then moving into his hair, following the curls as they curved over his ear. 

It was just as soft as you’d expected it to be, the strands slipping through your fingers. And when you tugged on them, changing the angle of your kiss and causing his lips to part and give you an opening, Frankie sighed, the man nodding twice without pulling away. He likes it. The kiss deepend again, slow strokes of your tongue against his, Frankie returning the gesture and drawing your lip between his teeth before he released it, his mouth sliding over to the corner of yours and pressing a kiss there, too. 

It was surprisingly intimate, especially for two people that didn’t know each other, and when he backed away and gave you a few seconds to collect your thoughts, you were breathing hard. “You alright?” He met your eyes, brow furrowed. “I -” 

“I am. Are you?” Scratching your nails along his scalp, you wet your lips. “You gave me the option to stop earlier… you know you have the same option too, right?”

“Not happening.” He smiled briefly and then swallowed, exhaling. “No way in hell.” You laughed, closing your eyes, and while they were shut, Frankie leaned in and spoke directly into your ear, breath hot against your skin. “You’re gonna have to let me go so I can get your clothes off.” I am, aren’t I. 

Blinking rapidly, you used both hands to push him away from you and then reached for your shirt’s hem, fingers closing around the material. There was space between you - but not much, and all he had to do was raise his hands and he was touching you again. His fingers closed around your wrists and squeezed. “Wait.” Voice low, Frankie cleared his throat. “Let me.” 

You had no problem with that, letting go of the material and mouthing the word ok, Frankie’s hands releasing your wrists and replacing yours on your shirt. He eased it up your body, revealing your skin inch by inch, and when you had to, you lifted your arms over your head eyes on him. “You’re going so slow, Frankie. Wh-”

“I only get to do this once, and I’m gonna enjoy it.” Glancing up, he winked. “Patience.” You closed your eyes and bit down on your lip, fighting back a whimper. He knows what he’s doing. He’s so fucking good at this, how is he single? When he rid you of your shirt, instead of tossing it across the room like you expected, he reached over and set it on a small side table you hadn’t noticed earlier.  “Oh, shit.” 

He spoke so quietly you almost didn’t hear him, the man’s hands returning to your body and roaming over your newly exposed skin. He started with your sides, large palms settled against your ribs before one hand slid around to your back, easing you away from the door and further into the room. “Hmm?” You questioned with a quiet hum and a raised brow. “Frankie?” 

He didn’t say anything, instead continuing to explore you with both hands, the man’s touch much lighter than you expected. He wasn’t shy, though, holding you close and ducking his head down to kiss the top of your shoulder at the same time his hand slid beneath the band of your bra, fingers splayed wide. 

Frankie’s teeth grazed your shoulder and then you gasped in surprise when he took your bra strap between them and pulled, letting it snap back, the sting shocking you enough that your hold on him tightened. He laughed at that, turning his head so that he could nose at your neck, the man inhaling deeply before he kissed you there. He worked his way up, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake before moving across your cheek and back to your mouth. You gasped when you felt your bra loosen, Frankie’s hand deftly undoing it while he was otherwise occupied, and when you backed away in shock, he was grinning. “I told you I’m good with my hands.” 

“You did.” Pulling out of his hold entirely, you reached up and removed the material, letting it drop to the floor. “Now there’s nothing in your way.” You kept your eyes on him as he took the sight of you in - his gaze dropping from your face to your chest and lingering, the man’s fingers flexing at his sides. “Are you going to touch me, Francisco?” Flexing your shoulders, you waited. “Because I thought that’s what you wanted.” 

“Where?” He put a hand on his hip and grinned, gesturing at you with his other hand. “Because I still see plenty in the way.” 

“You’re fully dressed.” Leaning back against the door, you crossed your arms over your chest. “So -” 

“I know.” He scratched the side of his head, still staring at you. “But that doesn’t change anything. You’ve still got those jeans on, and …” He arched a brow, pressing his lips together. “And I’d like to change that.” 

You didn’t know what you’d expected - with all of your other hookups, it had been quick and simple; fumbling in the dark, just enough foreplay to get both of you involved and ready, a few kisses here and there to make things less awkward. But with Frankie, a hookup was more - more involved, more thought out, more interesting, and you had no desire for it to be over quickly. Even if the sex isn’t good, because this is … this is great. 

“No one’s stopping you.” You looked past him, eyes moving toward the hallway. “Where’s the bedroom, though? Shouldn’t we -” 

“If you want to get into a bed, we can.” He stepped closer again, his hands going back to your waist and resting just above the top of your jeans. “But we need to go now, because …” He unbuttoned them, both hands working to pull the sides apart and lower the zipper. “Because I want you, and I -” 

You made the decision for him, stepping out of his hold and then around the man, heading for the space in front of the fireplace. There was a couch and a loveseat, along with a recliner tucked into the corner, but you didn’t choose any of those. Instead, you kicked off your shoes and then stepped onto the rug that covered part of the hardwood floor, turning back to face Frankie. “How’s here?” 

He crossed the room without speaking, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you again. I guess that means this is alright. Bodies pressed together, you and Frankie stood there - his hands dropping, fingers dipping between your jeans and skin and then tugging, the man easing the last clothing you wore down your legs. He’s going to need help. He’s going to need me to… 

But your thoughts stopped when Frankie broke the kiss, sliding his hands back to your sides and kissing your chin before he moved down further, to your collarbone. He didn’t stop there, though, bending forward and mouthing at the top of one breast, the short hair of his beard tickling your skin. You laughed at the feeling, both hands reaching for Frankie’s head and massaging your fingers through his curls - and he seemed to like it. 

He bit you at the first touch of your fingers, the man’s teeth latching onto you for a few seconds before he released your skin, his mouth moving even lower and to your nipple. “Fuck, Frankie.” Your voice was low - almost a whisper - and when he sucked, you whimpered, your back arching to press yourself further into his mouth, Frankie’s fingers digging into your skin as he held you in place. 

He didn’t stay there long, either, releasing you with a pop and then glancing up, a smirk on his lips when he met your eyes. “I’m gonna enjoy this.” Are you? What are … 

Frankie lowered himself to his knees in front of you without breaking eye contact, both hands gliding down your body until he got to your jeans - and pushed them the rest of the way down. 

He finally looked away when he dropped his gaze to your lower legs, the man working quickly to rid you of the denim you wore, but your eyes were locked on him - on the crown of his head, the silver strands in his hair visible even in the dim light, on the slope of his shoulders, on the way his fingers deftly wrapped around one ankle and then the next to steady you  - and you realized that your heart was pounding against your ribcage in anticipation. 

“Frankie, you don’t have to -” 

“I know.” He looked up again, the man’s breaths slow and deep. “I want to.” You felt his fingertips running up the backs of your legs before he squeezed your thighs, nodding. “That alright?” 

“Yes.” You didn’t recognize your voice when you gave your answer because it was breathy and full of need - Frankie’s eyes flashing at your permission. But I can’t let this get too serious because it’s supposed to be … fun. “Are …” Clearing your throat to steady yourself, you slid your thumb over his cheek. “Are your knees as bad as Pope’s? Because if they are, that can’t be a comfortable position for you and -” 

Frankie’s laugh caught you by surprise. 

It was a full sound, the man closing his eyes and tipping his head back, fingers tightening further against you. “They’re fine.” He licked his lips again, locking eyes with you. “I’ll prove it right now.” 

You had few doubts about that, even after only knowing him for a few hours. But when Frankie returned his attention to your body, they all but disappeared. He leaned in, tilting his head to the side and settling his mouth just below the cut of your underwear on one thigh and let his lips linger there, both thumbs circling slowly on your legs. 

That motion continued even as he moved his mouth, lips occasionally replaced by a gentle drag of his teeth as they grazed your skin. “You’re teasing, Frankie.” Carding through his hair, you tugged on it to get his attention. “Please, just…” You didn’t even know what you were asking for; it was clear that he had a plan and was just taking his time getting there. “Fuck, I don’t even…” 

Trailing off, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, the strands of his hair still slipping through your fingers as he kissed his way over your skin. 

Moving his hands up a few inches, Frankie spread his fingers wide, taking you in hand - and then he squeezed again at the same time as he finally pressed a kiss to your covered mound, the pressure of his lips firm. At the contact, your hips jerked forward, toes curling against the carpeted floor. He kissed you again, hands moving a little higher, and when his fingers hooked over the waistband of your underwear and started to pull it down, you spread your legs a few inches, making it easier for him to lower them. 

He backed off while he finished undressing you, easing the damp material down your legs until it dropped to the floor and you kicked them off to one side. “Look at you.” He groaned, replacing his hands on the outside of your thighs. “Fuck.” It made you smile, but that expression left your lips the moment he kissed your skin again - the man’s lips soft and warm, his mustache tickling you just enough to make you sigh. 

Frankie didn’t go straight for it, though, continuing to tease you with quick kisses and short licks, his tongue dragging over your skin in a maddening pattern. He glanced up at you once, too, making eye contact - and though you didn’t know him well you could see amusement in his eyes and feel the way he grinned against your skin at whatever expression he’d found on your face. 

You fought to keep your composure, but when he touched you for the first time, you had to admit that it was a losing battle. Using both thumbs, he spread you open, the roughened pads pressed to your damp skin - giving him unrestricgted access. And Frankie wasted no time then, mouth landing exactly where he meant it to only moments later. 

The first contact was a kiss, but that moved almost immediately into a series of slow licks, the man’s tongue flat as he probed at your skin. He was unhurried, though, focused on what he was doing and taking his time, each pass of the muscle moving a little lower. You widened the spread of your feet without him asking, rising onto your toes briefly when Frankie’s tongue breached your entrance for the first time, but that was short lived, the man squeezing your leg and backing away. 

“You’re gonna lose your balance that way.” He grinned up at you as he licked his lips clean, thoughtfully drawing his lower one between his teeth. “Relax.” 

“You’re telling me to relax when you’ve got that mouth all over me, Frankie.” Rolling your eyes, you glanced down at where he was still touching you. “I don’t think you understand what -”

“No, I do.” He leaned in again, flicking his tongue out and against you twice. “I really do.” The angle was off - you weren’t quite tall enough to give him the best angle, but that didn’t stop Frankie from continuing what he was doing, both eyes closing as he savored the taste of you through long, thorough licking and more focused suction, the tip of his tongue flicking against you over and over. 

But what you weren’t prepared for was the removal of one hand from your leg followed by the drag of his knuckles against the space below his mouth. You moaned at that - the sound loud, but it only encouraged him, Frankie rotating his wrist and then circling his fingertips against your opening before pushing two of them slowly in. 

It was a lot - his fingers were thick, but he didn’t rush anything and his mouth had done a lot of work to get you ready. Holy fuck, he … he’s … You didn’t know how to complete the thought, because as he continued to work you over with his mouth, he sunk both fingers in, pausing before withdrawing them. You spoke his name again - just a whisper - but it was all he needed, Frankie repeating the upward thrust of his fingers and changing the position of his mouth on you. 

You were gripping his hair with both hands, urging him to stay in place, but when he paused and backed off before he’d taken you too far, you didn’t stop him, instead using the break to take a long, shuddering breath. “You’re good at that.” Biting your lip, you nodded. “Really good. Like -”

“Glad you enjoyed.” He smiled up at you, the expression lazy, even as he continued to pump his fingers into your body, though his pace slowed. “You’ll enjoy it more when you’re layin’ down, though.” Does that mean he wants me to lay down? Does that mean he wants to do this again? I …. “Come ‘ere.” Slowly, the pulled his fingers from you, curling them as he withdrew and then settled back, taking a long breath and patting his thigh. 

On slightly shaky legs, you did as he asked - lowering yourself down to straddle his thighs, both arms winding around his neck as his looped around your waist. “How are you going to fuck me if you’re still fully dressed, Frankie?” Resting your forehead against his, you wrinkled your nose. “Last time I checked, you couldn’t -” 

“I’ve got you.” He whispered the reply, the certainty in his voice settling you down as he kissed your cheek and then turned his attention to your ear. “Lay down.” You wanted him to kiss you but didn’t press it, instead climbing off of him and slowly reclining onto the rug, though you rolled onto one side and propped yourself on one elbow, watching him. 

He stood moments later, undoing his belt buckle and then the button and zipper on his jeans, pushing them down his thighs to remove them. That left him only in his underwear, an impressive bulge visible in the front and equally impressive thighs testing the elasticity of the leg openings below. Frankie pulled his wallet out before dropping the jeans, flipping it open and pulling out a condom package and then letting the leather bundle fall to the floor. He held it out to you and you took it, fingers brushing his as yours curled around the foil square, but your eyes were on Frankie and the way he used his other hand - the one he’d touched you with - to adjust himself through the material, squeezing through the cotton. 

You wanted to taste him, too - to know what the weight of him felt like against your tongue, to run your tongue over his head and tease him the way he’d teased you. Maybe later. Right now he looks like he just … Frankie eyed you with a hunger you hadn’t ever seen in someone so soon after meeting them before. But instead of worrying you, it made your stomach flip, desire surging through your body. Because if he’s looking at me that way, then he’s going to do something about it, and … 

He tugged once more on himself and then with a quick shake of his head, pulled his underwear off, tossing it to the side. He was still wearing his shirt, the thin material hanging down to his lower belly, but you only considered that for a few seconds. Because he … damn. 

Frankie’s fingers wrapped around his length again almost right away, but instead of using his clean hand to stroke himself, he used the other one, your slick easing the glide of his fingers. Fuck it. Fuck it, I … “Get down here.” You didn’t mean to make it sound like such an order, but he did as you asked immediately, lowering himself back onto his knees and then crawling toward you, eyes locked on your face. 

He covered your body with his, easing you onto your back and letting his weight rest atop yours, the man’s arousal hot where it pressed against your thigh. “How do you want me?” You’d assumed that he would just want basic sex - that you’d end up on your back with your legs wrapped around his waist while he fucked you, and you told him as much. “I can do that.” He reached for your hand, taking the condom and tearing it open. “But I had something else in mind.” 

Frankie rolled onto his back and then deftly put the condom on, your attention on the way his fingers looked rolling the thin material down and over his length before he squeezed the base, hissing in pleasure. “What’s that?” 

He turned his head and looked at you, saying your name. “Get on top … just for a second.” It shocked you - Frankie willingly giving you the power - but you didn’t question it, scrambling onto your knees and then into position, straddling him again with your hands on his abdomen. “Go slow.” 

Nodding, you did as he said - rising to your full height and scooting down so that you were hovering over where he held himself, the man’s eyes focused on the place where your bodies would join. “I will.” You looked down, biting your lip. “Not for long though, because fuck, Frankie, you keep telling me you’re going to enjoy this, but -” Stop talking. 

You let out a slow breath when you lowered your body, feeling the broad tip of him as it touched you and then slipped inside. Letting out a gasp, you tipped your head back and stared at the ceiling, mouth hanging open with each little bit of him that you accepted into yourself. 

He was murmuring words of praise as you moved; telling you that you were doing great, that you looked fucking incredible on top of him, that you felt good around him… but all you were focused on was the way that Frankie filled you up, inch by inch. You took him slowly, finally bottoming out and letting yourself relax for a few seconds. Neither of you moved, though you did look down at the man again, noticing that his fingers were curled into fists, the Frankie’s mouth hanging open slightly as he watched you. 

“That slow enough?” You couldn’t resist teasing him, and when all you got out of him was a tight nod, the man’s jaw ticking as he stared up at you, you decided it was your turn to tease him. Rocking your hips back and forth, you sighed and then closed your eyes, fingers curling against the material of his shirt. “Need to feel you, Frankie. I need to move. I -”

“Do it.” That was little more than a low growl, his hands flying up from the floor to grip your hips, the man guiding you into a slow rhythm that moved you up and down, your body’s accommodation of him easing by the second. And then it was your turn to praise him - eyes squeezed shut as you rode him, the muscles in your thighs tensing with each bounce. You told him that he felt good, that he filled you perfectly, that you’d never felt anything like him - and with each phrase, Frankie’s hold on you tightened, his hips rising just enough to meet yours on every downstroke and change the way he felt inside you. 

You wouldn’t come that way - there was no real friction or pressure where you needed it most, but to your surprise, the thought that you’d ride him all night even if it meant you’d never finish crossed your mind, the fact that it was the truth registering only moments later. Uh oh. Eyes flying open, you looked down and met his gaze, the man staring directly at you. 

There was a half smile on his face at first, but at the expression on yours, that look changed, Frankie blinking twice and murmuring your name. “What’s wrong?” 

“Too much.” The words slipped out, but as he heard them, he stopped moving entirely, his grip on you loosening. “I need you to fuck me, Frankie. Not like this. Not like it’s -” Familiar. Not like it means anything. 

“Alright.” He nodded then, jerking his chin and taking a deep breath. “Ok.” You climbed off of him, biting back a sigh at the loss of him as he slipped out, and moved to kneel next to him on the carpet, your lips pressed together.  He moved quickly, opening up more space for you and then gesturing with the hand that wasn’t slowly stroking himself.  “However you -”

You made the decision as he spoke, getting onto your hands and knees and then glancing back over your shoulder at him. “How’s this?” You had no doubt that it would be a good position for him, and almost knew that he wouldn’t oppose it, but part of you wondered why you felt that it was necessary. Because it’s less intimate this way. “Frankie?” Speaking softly, you shifted on your knees, watching his gaze drop and then rise back to meet yours. “Yeah?” 

“Y…yeah.” He swallowed, nodding and then moved into place behind you. “Spread your legs a little more for me, though.” You widened the set of your knees and then turned your head forward, closing your eyes and blowing out a breath as he put both hands on you, palms flat and fingers spread wide, the tips of them curling over your thighs. Alright. Alright this is - 

But you were unprepared for the feeling of his mouth on you from behind - first the press of his lips and then the drag of his tongue, slow and steady. Oh, shit. You whimpered, the sound escaping before you could stop it, but even more telling was the way your back arched, hips jerking toward the man’s mouth as you sought out more. 

He backed off, his exhale warming your slick skin, and then you felt him steady your hip with one hand, followed by the nudge of him against you. “Oh, fuck.” He spoke so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him, but when Frankie pushed back inside, the glide of him eased through you by your body’s response to his, you heard that reaction, the man swearing loudly and then using both hands to hold your hips in place as he began to thrust. 

It was better from that angle - the power behind each movement of his hips apparent, Frankie setting a pace that felt amazing and allowed you to feel every inch of him with every snap of his hips. And his hold on you never wavered, even when you began to pant, every exhale accompanied by a tiny whine as your fingers curled into the fibers of the carpet, giving you something to hold on to. 

He filled you - over and over, his grip tightening but not to the point of pain, and when you moaned out his name, turning your head to the side and peeking behind you at him, your entire body shivered at what you saw. 

He was still fully upright, the man’s head tilted to the side and his eyes on you - the lids hooded and one long lock of hair hanging down over his eye. His lip was curled, mouth set into a smirk that was part amusement and part effort - and it was one of the most attractive things you’d ever seen. 

As much as you were enjoying the position - and could tell that Frankie was, too, part of you regretted asking him to move, regretted the loss of contact and the ability to watch him. But it’s better this way. It makes more sense this way. He’s going to get off, and then I’ll - 

You felt his hand moving, sliding from your hip and around to the front of your body. Then only moments later, the man touched you, two fingers sliding over your skin and then lower, between your legs where they parted, Frankie letting himself feel where he was entering you. “Gonna help you out now, alright?” He sighed and then groaned, slowing down the movement of his hips as he pulled out and then sunk back in, the pressure of his fingers increasing. “Can you sit up?” Wait, what?  But you did as he asked, pushing yourself upright, hands hanging by your sides - and waiting. 

The new angle changed his depth, but Frankie never stopped moving, the motion of his hips becoming a slow roll instead of deep thrusts, and without thinking, you leaned back, shoulders pressed to his chest and your head tilted to rest against his shoulder. Instinctively, you arched your back again, hips pushed backward and against his. Frankie hummed at that, the man turning his head to nuzzle at the side of yours, his fingers still slowly circling against you. “That feels fucking amazing.” 

You closed your eyes, reaching back with one hand and setting your hand on the side of his leg, the man’s muscles flexing beneath your touch. “Yeah? You feel fucking amazing.” His free hand moved from your hip to your stomach, resting there for the span of a few thrusts, and then it glided upward, his large palm sliding between your breasts and then over the left one, lingering on the swell of it before coming to rest over your heart. “Relax. I’ve got you.” 

He spoke into your ear, and you did what he said, letting your weight rest against him and in his hold, your eyes closing and lips falling open. The hand not on his leg moved up and into his hair, your fingers combing through the damp curls … and then they stayed there, even as Frankie’s mouth began to move against your cheek and jaw. 

He sped up the motion of his hips, setting a different pace than he had with the movement of his fingers. After only a few seconds, you realized how close you were - and how much you wanted to come with him deep inside you. Because he won’t be far behind. And that … oh, fuck, that will… 

You pressed yourself harder against him, meeting his hips with small backwards thrusts of your own, and when you felt him nod you smiled, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. It was building - pressure and heat low in your belly, every motion of Frankie’s sending a jolt through you. When your thigh muscles tensed, followed by a slight curling of your toes and a quiet whimper, you knew that you were about to fall - and it was all because of him. 

It washed over you slowly, Frankie’s pace never faltering even as your body squeezed him, hips jerking back erratically and your grip on his hair tightening. You couldn’t help the way the edges of your nails dug into the meat of his thigh, your mouth falling open into a soundless gasp. He curled the fingers on your chest and groaned, turning his head again and speaking into your ear, his voice low and deep. “That’s it. Give it to me.” 

Normally, you weren’t a fan of much talking during sex; a few words here and there were fine, but in your experience, the talk came with familiarity, and since you weren’t typically close with the people you slept with, it always felt forced and unnecessary. But I’d listen to him recite the phone book in bed if he wanted to. You hummed in agreement, nodding twice as your body - and his - continued to work you through your orgasm, muscles tensing and loosening around him while he continued to move behind you. “Could say the… mmm, could say the same to you, Frankie.” 

He laughed at your words, but he wasn’t laughing at you - instead he turned it into a groan and then pulled his hand from between your legs, moving it up and pressing it against your lower abdomen. “Yes, ma’am.” You sucked in a breath at the address and then Frankie was moving faster again, the snap of his hips and the stretch of him inside you reminding you of the fact that he was filling you, over and over, the man showing no sign of fatigue, even after the varied positions and the need for him to partially support your weight. 

His breath faltered moments later, the man’s grunt loud, and then you moaned at the feeling of Frankie’s teeth on your neck, the man biting hard at the same time his arms tightened around you. He released your skin after only a few moments, soothing the sting with the press of his lips, but you barely felt it - instead focused on the way the stuttering of his hips and his hold felt. The thinness of the condom he chose allowed you to feel every twitch of his muscles, Frankie growing harder inside of you as he came. 

He finally stopped moving though he didn’t release you, the man’s hips flush with the backs of your thighs. You didn’t even try to hide the smile on your face as your grip on him loosened, arms dropping into a more relaxed position even though your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. He was breathing hard, too, and when Frankie did release you, you tipped your head back and blew out a long breath. 

He pulled out slowly soon after, another quiet grunt the only noise you heard, and when he backed away, you relaxed, lowering yourself so that you were sitting on the floor, leaning to the side with your bent legs beneath you. Well that was… You heard him moving behind you, and then only a few seconds later, a soft blanket was draped over your shoulders and he said your name. “C’mon, let me show you where the bathroom is.” 

Turning your head, you watched as he wrapped a smaller blanket around his waist, the man’s eyes locked on you. Yeah, that’s … a good idea. You were still dazed, but even more surprised when he reached out with one hand to take yours and help you to your feet, Frankie’s fingers closing around yours. “Thank you. I -”

“Lemme see.” He reached for you with his other hand, tilting your head so that he could see the place on your neck where his teeth had been. “I didn’t break the skin, did I?” 

“No. What? You didn’t bite that hard.” Laughing it off, you rolled your eyes. “I’m fine, Frankie. I actually … I liked that.”

“Can’t lose control, though.” He frowned, eyes on your skin. “Coulda hurt you… and then how would you have explained that to anyone you see in the next couple days?” No, you couldn’t. 

“You didn’t.” Reaching out, you cupped his cheek in one hand, forcing him to look at you. “No harm done, and it was hot as fuck, so…” He gave you a tiny smile at that, some of the worry leaving his eyes. “Show me where this bathroom is, yeah?” 

He led you down the hall, flipping the light switch on and telling you that you could use anything you needed, and then Frankie turned again, heading toward what you assumed was his bedroom. Closing the door, you turned to face the sink and gave yourself a few seconds to stare at your reflection, trying to get your bearings. 

Your eyes were bright, and though you couldn’t see it beneath the blanket he’d given you, you knew that your chest was still rising and falling rapidly, your body coming down from the act of being with him. He’s good. He’s really good. I enjoyed that. Closing your eyes, you let the blanket fall and gripped the edge of the sink, sighing. Don’t get used to it. You’re only going to be here for a little while. 

You did what you needed to do; used the bathroom, washed your face, took a capful of the mouthwash in the medicine cabinet, and then bent over, wrapping yourself in the blanket again before heading back into the living room to collect your clothes. 

Frankie was still gone, and even though you gave yourself a moment to stare at the place on the carpet you’d just occupied, you were already sitting and pulling your underwear back on when he finally did reenter the room, the man wearing a pair of sleep pants and the same long sleeve shirt he’d had on previously. “You don’t need to get dressed, unless you want me to take you back to the hotel tonight.” 

“You want me to sleep naked?” Glancing up at him, you arched a brow. “Seems kind of unfair since you didn’t even take off all your clothes earlier.” 

“Yeah, about that.” He wrinkled his nose, reaching up to ruffle his own hair. “There’s a reason, and when you see it, you’ll understand.” You were intrigued, but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, and so you stayed quiet, eyeing him. “I’m serious, though. I don’t have much to offer you to sleep in, but if you sleep in those pants, you won’t be comfortable.” 

“You want me to stay?” 

“Yes.” There was no hesitation on his part, Frankie gesturing toward you with one hand. “Only if you want to, though.” You did - very much - and so you stood, walking to where he was waiting. “We’ll grab something to drink and then head to my room, and I’ll show you why I didn’t take my shirt off.” 

— 

A few minutes later, you and Frankie were in his room, glasses of water sitting on coasters on the small tables on either side of his bed. He’d explained a little to you about the house - that he’d bought it when he and his ex had split for good, that he hadn’t looked at too many before making the decision, and that it was a constant work in progress - but he’d sidestepped the mystery of his shirt, and it wasn’t until you were already in bed and under the blanket, your bare back resting against the wooden headboard that he brought it up again. 

“It’s going to sound selfish.” He stood on your side of the bed, looking down. “But I was pretty focused when we first got back here, and I didn’t want to … waste time.” Waste time? What? “Everyone always asks questions when they see it for the first time, and …” 

He moved as he spoke, reaching for the bottom hem of his shirt and then pulling it over his head, letting the thin material fall to the floor. “Holy fuck, Frankie.” Scrambling onto your knees, you made sure to hold the blanket over your bare chest, eyes on his arm. “That’s what you were hiding?” 

“Yeah.” He moved closer, holding it out toward you. “Go ahead, you can touch it.” He didn’t need to tell you twice, and only moments later, you were running your fingertips over the intricately inked designs on his arm, unsure of where to focus. Jesus, this is beautiful. “I got it after I retired from the military for good.” He cleared his throat, continuing. “We um … we all got somethin’, just to remind us that we were in some deep shit together.” He pointed at a spot on his bicep, your eyes moving to it. “For our unit.” 

“But you have a sleeve, Frankie. Do the other guys? No, because I saw Will and Tom’s arms, so…” He laughed, shaking his head, even as you continued to trace the lines of the tattoo. 

“No. Everyone else’s is pretty small. Benny’s is on his chest. Ironhead’s got his on his side. Pope’s is on the back of one leg. Redfly’s is on his shoulder.” You hummed in appreciation, eyes scanning the man’s arm. It was covered with navigational objects - maps and a compass, what looked like an instrument panel, a helicopter and even a biplane. You even saw a mountain range and a few sets of coordinates, along with Roman numerals hidden in amongst the other elements. “I made mine bigger because I was tryin’ to hide something.” 

Your fingers found it as he spoke again, your thumb rubbing slowly over what felt like thick scar tissue on the inside of his forearm, the uneven lines covering an area of a few inches. You felt a wave of unease as you explored, but it passed quickly, Frankie clearing his throat to reclaim your attention. 

“Got ambushed during the last mission. We were pretty far out and without a medical team, and by the time we got anywhere near a hospital, it had already started healing like shit. Got tired of looking at it and answerin’ questions about what happened so I covered it up and now all people see is the tattoo.” 

“Did it hurt?” You glanced up, fingers tightening slightly over the thickened skin. “Getting a tattoo over the scars? I’ve heard that it’s worse sometimes.” 

“Nah. Not as much as when I got hurt the first time.” He covered your hand with his and squeezed, saying your name. “D’you see why I didn’t want to get into this before?”

“You wanted to get straight to the sex. I get it.” Grinning, you shook your head. “It’s gorgeous work, Frankie. It suits you. I’d love to see it in actual light, not just these lamps, because I’m sure there are a ton of details, and -”

“You will.” He pulled his arm back and then circled around to the other side of the bed, climbing in and leaning back, just like you were. “I usually fly in short sleeves. So if you’re still interested in those flights…” 

“Oh, I am.” Turning your head to look at him, you nodded. “Very interested, Frankie. That wasn’t just bullshit to get you into bed.” 

“Good. Because I want to take you up there.” He reached over, squeezing your knee through the blanket. “Do you want to stop on the way back to the hotel tomorrow for breakfast?” 

“Yeah, that works.” You sighed. “I don’t know what’s around here, but … I trust you to pick something good.” He grinned, nodding. Part of you - a very large part - wanted to lean over and kiss him again before you laid down, but you knew that it wasn’t a good idea. That’s not what this was. It was just sex and … it was good sex, but … 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tilting his head to the side, Frankie crossed his arms over his chest. “What?” 

“I’m trying to figure out how to end this conversation and lay down without it being awkward, but … I just made it awkward, didn’t I.” He laughed at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling, but Frankie’s head shook back and forth, the man leaning closer. 

“Not awkward. I get it. This shit’s kind of weird, hmm? After what we just did out there, being in here’s … different.” You nodded, still eyeing him. “Can I make it a little better for you?” He wet his lips, taking a deep breath. “Easier, maybe?” 

You knew what he was going to do even before he moved, but Frankie leaned closer while you nodded, one of his hands rising to touch - and then tilt - your chin. He kissed you softly, lips lingering on yours, and when he backed away, he was smiling, one brow arched. “I did say you could do that as often as you wanted tonight, didn’t I?” 

“You did.” He tweaked your chin and then pulled away entirely, easing himself down and onto the mattress. “Now get some sleep. I paid a fortune for this bed and I want you to enjoy it as much as I do.” You laughed, laying down next to him and rolling onto your side, facing the man. “Alexa, bedroom off.” 

Without delay, the room was plunged into darkness, Frankie shifting next to you as he settled in. He didn’t say anything else, and there was space between your bodies, but you didn’t feel the typical chasm that was almost always result when you stayed after a hookup. Because I knew him a little first? Because this won’t be the last time I see him? Both? I don’t… I don’t know. 

Humming quietly as you got comfortable, you felt your breaths lengthen, your body sinking into the mattress, which was comfortable. “Are these pillows the same material as -”

“Yes.” His voice was muffled, Frankie clearing his throat before he continued. “I told you. A fortune. I’m not twenty one anymore and I deserve it, goddammit.” You laughed at that, eyes squeezed shut. “Goodnight.” 

“‘Night, Frankie.” 

As you drifted off, the thought crossed your mind that even it was meant to be a one-time only thing, it certainly hadn’t felt that way at any point in the night - on either side. 

— 

You woke up to heat, a weight draped over you that sent a jolt of panic through your body as you sucked in a breath. Where am I? What is - “Hey. It’s alright.” His voice was low and in your ear, your muscles relaxing at the sound. “You’re alright. I just moved in my sleep, I’m sorry.” 

The realization that it was Frankie’s weight partially atop you forced your eyes open, the sight of his bare chest only inches from your nose greeting you immediately. Oh, shit. “I’m sorry, too. I -”

“Don’t apologize.” He moved his hand slowly, trailing a finger up the center of your back. “Not a bad way to wake up.” No, not at all. “How’d you sleep?” He smells so good. Even after last night, he smells… 

“Like a rock, Frankie. You weren’t lying about your bed. This is incredible compared to the hotels and apartments I’ve dealt with the last couple months. I don’t know how you get out of it every morning.” He laughed at you, taking a breath and rolling onto his back and away from you. You watched as his tattooed arm lifted, that hand rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

It was easier to see the design in the morning light, and your eyes roamed his skin, looking for details that you’d missed previously. There’s so many. I’d need to look for an hour to see them all. “I’m going to take a shower, and then we’ll get going. I hate to do that, but I’m gonna go straight to the office after I drop you off.” He blinked at you, the man’s cheek pressed to his pillow. “You can use the other one if you want, should be everything you need in -”

“I appreciate it.” Sitting up, you held the blanket in place. “But I’ve got some emails to check, and there’s no point in showering if I’m just going to put old clothes on.” 

“I offered.” He sat up, too, and shrugged. “There’s coffee in the kitchen if you want to make some. It’ll only take me about ten minutes.” Frankie climbed out of bed without warning, treating you to the sight of his bare back and shoulders, pants hanging low on his hips. Damn. Look at him. “It’s not polite to stare.” Throwing a glance back over his shoulder, you watched as his smile grew. “But I don’t mind.” 

You groaned and he laughed, the man disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. Well, shit. You gave yourself until you heard the water turn on to get out of bed, quickly pulling your clothes back on and using his mirror to ensure that you looked presentable. That done, you padded barefoot into the kitchen, willing yourself not to snoop. 

He’d already opened up to you on numerous levels - more than any typical one night stand, and also more than any new acquaintance, and you didn’t want to break his trust. As you reached for the handle of the most likely cabinet for coffee mugs, you tried to convince yourself that it was because you needed him for the helicopter, but you knew that wasn’t everything. 

The places your search took you often led to loneliness - the job was a solo one, and your cover contacts could only fill so much of the time in the day. The reality was that when you weren’t out looking at likely locations or actively doing research, you spent a lot of time in the place you were renting. 

It didn’t make sense to make friends. It wasn’t smart to form attachments, because the nature of your mission was something that kept you on the move. But maybe … maybe making a friend like Frankie would be alright. 

His friends were an added bonus, too. He hadn’t been wrong; you’d gotten along with them, had enjoyed the time you’d spent at the bar, and it had little to do with the fact that they were potentially useful. And everything to do with them as people. 

You set the pot to brew and then headed for the living room, digging through your bag for your phone and pulling it free. 

There were no missed calls or texts, and nothing in your inbox from Tom. It’s still early, though. Frowning, you headed back into the kitchen and took a seat at the small table, dialing Alec’s number as the scent of the coffee filled the room. 

It went straight to voicemail, which didn’t surprise you, and with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, you rested your forehead against your palm, waiting for the beep. “Hey, Alec. It’s me. Just checking in and trying to figure out how things are going. I’m working on a couple things in Florida, so hopefully in a few days I’ll be settled for a while. Give me a call when you get this, alright? Would be great to hear about what you’ve been up to.” 

Setting the phone face down on the table, you covered your face with both hands, sighing. It wasn’t unusual to be out of contact for a lengthy period of time, but no interaction whatsoever always worried you. He’s fine. He’s just following a lead. He - “Alec? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but -” He sounds concerned. 

Head popping up, you turned in your seat toward the doorway, finding that Frankie was leaning against it, his hair wet and arms crossed over his broad chest. “My cousin. He also travels for work, so we … we sort of keep each other company while we’re on the job. It’s been a little while since I’ve heard from him, though, and I have no idea where he is right now.” He nodded twice, pointing at the coffee maker with one finger. 

“You made a pot, not a cup.” Well, yeah. I figured you might want some, too. “There enough for me?”

“Of course. I just got out one mug because I didn’t want to assume, but… yeah, Frankie.” Standing, you headed back toward the counter, inhaling deeply. “I made enough for you.” 

“Thank you.” You heard the sound of a cabinet opening and then watched as he pushed a travel mug across the counter, followed moments later by a second one. “Can I make a suggestion?” Turning your head, you waited to see what he’d say. “We take it to go, and then both of us have a good coffee to drink later today.” 

You paused, pressing your lips together. Is he trying to get me out of here? “I… ok. Sure. I haven’t tested out the coffee maker in my room yet, but -” You poured coffee into the first mug, leaving enough space in case he wanted to add anything to it. 

“And you can give me the mug back the next time I see you.” He stepped closer, bumping your hip with his.  “Whether that’s for a flight or … another time.” You tried to hide it but you were certain he saw your hand shake at the comment, both of your eyes widening at the insinuation. Another time? Another time like last night, or another time at the bar, or - “Whenever’s good for you.” 

You turned your head then, locking eyes with him. There was something in them, a hopeful look that surprised you, but Frankie only gave you a small smile, the man shrugging as he reached for the full mug, his fingers closing around it. Keep it light. “Sounds good.” You returned your attention to the coffee pot, heart thudding in your chest. “I will be in Tampa for a while, so…” Don’t get your hopes up. 

A few minutes later, both of you were holding full travel mugs and heading out the front door. Frankie was telling you a story about a booking he’d had, your attention fully on the sound of his voice. “I have so many damn stories I could tell you, it’s unreal.” He slid into the seat next to you, turning the key in the ignition. “Proposals. I’ve had people break up mid-flight. Couple people puked. Someone demanded their money back because I wouldn’t land ‘em in a random place.”

“People are … very needy.” You sipped your coffee, eyeing his dashboard. “But I bet you’ve had some really good flights, too. Otherwise, you wouldn’t still be doing it.” He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, it wasn’t how you’d anticipated.

“Alright. There’s a place on the way back to Ironhead’s that I like. Hopefully you will, too.” He put the truck in reverse and backed slowly down the driveway. “And yeah, I have had good flights. Most of ‘em are that way. But even if they weren’t, I think I’d still do this. Flying’s what I know. It’s what I’m good at. I made a career out of it in the military, so why not keep doing it now?” 

“I know for a fact you’re good at other things, too.” Eyeing him, you chewed on your lower lip. Well, it’s the truth. “So -”

“Ah, but those things aren’t exactly legal for me to profit from, are they.” He grinned, turning toward you enough to give you a wink. “Thanks for the vote of encouragement, though. I’ll remember that. Flattery gets you everywhere with me.” This is too easy. It shouldn’t be this easy. “We’re almost there, by the way. Family owned diner. Cheap but the food is good. They’re really friendly.” 

Nodding in agreement, you leaned back in your seat, staring out the front window. You reminded yourself to make a few notes during the meal, just in case he was watching you closely. Keep up appearances. 

But when you parked in the small lot, Frankie waiting for you to round the front of the truck to start walking toward the front door, you knew that you wouldn’t be focusing much on your surroundings. Instead, you focused on him, the man taking a seat across from you in the small booth, and immediately launching into another story once you’d both ordered. 

He kept you entertained throughout the entire meal, your attention squarely on him and what he was saying - but Frankie asked you questions, too, the man’s prodding never making you feel uncomfortable, though it was not typical “morning after” conversation. But nothing about this is typical, is it. 

He made you laugh with a story about Benny and Pope, and it was impossible not to keep grinning in his direction, even after it was finished. “You’re making a very good case for wanting to be friends with your friends, do you know that?” You finished your meal, dropping your fork onto the plate and then topping it with a wadded up napkin. “Thank you, Frankie. For … last night and for this morning. It’s been a really long time since I’ve felt … I don’t know, like I’m in a place for more than work. It was nice to relax for a while.” 

He nodded, raising his almost empty cup in salute. “Glad to help.” You didn’t want to cross a line or make it weird with him, but his reaction reassured you that you hadn’t. “They all always tell me I need to relax, too. And despite what you might think, last night was … not my normal. Before? Yeah. Before I met Becca? Definitely. It … I’m careful now. I have to be.” 

“Because of your daughter?” Cocking your head to the side, you crossed your arms on the table. “I get it. Even if she doesn’t live with you all the time, you’ve gotta be there for her. And inviting strangers into your life is … not always the best idea.” He watched you for a few seconds, the look in his eyes almost distant, but then he nodded, blinking himself back into focus.

“That’s part of it.” He gestured to your plate and then to his. “Ready?” You nodded in agreement, reaching for your bag, but Frankie held out his hand, stopping you. “It’s on me. I’ve got it.” You didn’t want to argue and so you thanked him instead, watching as he pulled a few bills out of his wallet and set them on the table. “C’mon. We leave now, I’ll be able to get you back to your car before Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumber get to the bar to open it up.” 

You snorted back a laugh and followed Frankie back outside, the man pausing long enough to glance up at the sky and take a deep breath. What is he going to say? He’s gearing up for something. “Which one’s which?” Putting a hand on your hip, you wrinkled your nose. “Benny and Will? Which one’s -”

“Depends on the day of the week.” He kept a straight face for a few seconds and then laughed, shaking his head. “I’m kidding. They’re both a hell of a lot smarter than they look, and they’re two of the best goddamn friends anyone could ask for.” 

“But that doesn’t mean they won’t give you shit about picking up a girl from a bar and having to drive her back to her car the following morning - as any good friend should.” Buckling in, you looked over at Frankie. “I get it.” 

“I meant it. I don’t … I don’t use the bar like that. I don’t just -”

“Frankie, you don’t owe me an explanation. Even if you did take home a new woman every time you went in there, I can’t say much about it because I’d barely been in Tampa for a full day before I let you take me back to your place. This is … what it is, and I think it’s fair to say that we both enjoyed ourselves, but that doesn’t mean either of us have to justify our behavior.” You drummed your fingertips atop your knee. “I don’t stay in one place long enough to get close to people. I’ve never kept in touch with anyone I’ve met after I’m out of a city, so -”

“But have you ever slept with ‘em and then had to work with them afterward?” He watched the road as he drove, both hands on the wheel. 

“No. But if it’s going to be a problem, I -” He stopped at a light, turning his head to look at you. “What?” 

“It’s not going to be a problem. I just want to be honest with you, because I’m not … I’m not looking for anything long term, and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. After retiring, after Becca, after … everything, I’m just trying to … make it all work.” 

“Well you’re in luck.” You cleared your throat. “I think we’ll need to be friendly in order to make the most out of these flights I’m hoping to schedule with you, but it doesn’t need to be more. Last night was great, Frankie, there’s no reason to pretend it wasn’t.” You were thankful that he was being honest with you - setting expectations and not leaving things open to interpretation. He knows what he needs, and that’s … a step up from most men, honestly. “But we can leave that part of it at that, and just … work together.”

It was probably for the best - the longer you stayed in Tampa and the deeper you got in your research, the less time you’d have for distractions like Frankie outside of the helicopter. Because the man was perceptive - he had to be in order to survive multiple deployments, and to excel at his current profession. And perceptive people ask questions, which I can’t answer, so … it was fun but we shouldn’t do it again. 

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, the man’s jaw set - but he didn’t speak again until you were parked in the bar’s lot, his truck next to your car. “I might have some time before my first trip today to look into some routes. If you … if you think of anything you want to see, or anywhere you’d like to go, just let me know, and I’ll see if I can work it in.” You nodded, digging through your bag for your keys. “Might be a couple days before you hear from me, because I want to have actual answers before I -”

“That’s fine. And if, in the meantime, you can figure out a time to do one of your regular routes, I’m open to that. I have to see the main coast and the city too, right?” Might as well get that out of the way while I can. “Only if you have time, though. I don’t want to bug you.” 

“You aren’t. And you won’t.” He finally looked at you again, resolve written on his features. “And I didn’t mean to lay this shit on you, either. I probably seem like the worst fucking hookup of all time.”

“I’ve had worse. Way worse, actually.” Winking at him, you reached over and squeezed his knee. “But in all seriousness, knowing where you stand is important, right? Set expectations from the beginning and no one gets in too deep.” Keep telling yourself that. “Have a safe flight, Frankie. Or flights, if you’ve got more than one today. Thank you again for everything. I’ll talk to you later.” 

You got out of the truck without saying anything more, but before you could climb into your car, you heard him say your name and looked up to find the driver’s side window down, his bent elbow resting against the open space. What? “Let me know when you hear about that apartment, alright? If you end up there, I can recommend some stuff in the neighborhood.” 

You assured him you would, and then with another nod, Frankie pulled away, the window rising as his truck moved. Even though you told yourself not to, you watched him go, only looking away when the truck disappeared from view. Shit. 

He wasn’t exactly sending you mixed signals - you were the one that suggested being on friendly terms, and what he’d told you laid out his expectations pretty clearly. But something was nagging at you - Frankie’s behavior not quite aligning with a true one night stand’s aftermath. It’s fine. I’m overthinking it. Lifting the mug to your lips and taking another sip, you laughed as you realized that no matter what, you would have to see him again - just as he’d so obviously planned. Oh, Frankie. Smiling to yourself, you unlocked your car. You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you. 

“Long night?” You spun at the sound of a voice, startled at the sight of Will leaning against the side of his car - a large SUV. “You look … well rested.” He was smirking, one eyebrow raised, and without even thinking, you lifted your hand and gave him the finger, the man’s laughter erupting from his throat. “Maybe you need more sleep. ‘Fish must’ve kept you up late.” 

“Very funny, Will.” He wasn’t judging you, though, the man’s posture loose as he watched your reaction. “How do you even know he -”

“I passed him on my way in. He waved at me.” Oh. That’ll do it. “You know, I give that man a lot of shit, but …” Will dragged his tongue over his lower lip and then reached up, rubbing at his beard with one hand. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him like he was last night. Comfortable with someone new. It was … nice.” Oh? That’s… interesting. “Just something for you to think about, y’know?” Will nodded slowly and then pointed at the front of the bar. “Gotta go in now, get shit ready to open, but what Benny said last night stands. Come back whenever - with or without Cat.” 

“Maybe I will.” He nodded, pushing off of the vehicle and stepping toward the door. “See you around.” You were inside your car before he made it to the door, starting the engine and tapping the address of the hotel into the NAV screen. 

You had a lot to think about - and even more to do, and thanks to Frankie, you didn’t need to stop for food on your way back to the room. I’ll go out later, you told yourself, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. Once I get some work done. 

And you did get work done after you got out of the shower, the hot water running over your body and soothing you the way it always did. But you would have been lying to yourself if you’d tried to pretend that while under the stream, you hadn’t let your thoughts wander to Frankie - to the way he’d touched you and made you feel. 

You worked for hours, finishing the mug of coffee and then some, making lists of potential locations to check out along with likely spots within those locations to focus on. You did what you did best - categorizing your findings based on intuition and what you knew to be true about the Chaos line, as well as the data you could gather on the previous attacks in the Tampa area. 

It was good work, and when you finally stopped to take a breath and consider dinner, you were pleased with your progress - and even more pleased with the locations that you’d found to use as cover while you looked into what you were really in Florida for. I have a place to start now. And tomorrow… tomorrow that’s what I’ll do. 

But the minute you shut your laptop and closed your notebook, your thoughts went back to Frankie, and the time you’d spent together. Closing your eyes, you could still almost feel the man’s hold on you - the way his palm had felt on your chest, the touch of his fingers and the press of his chest to your back. You could hear him, the noises he’d made seared into your brian. Stop it. Stop. You both know what last night was.  

Shaking your head, you stood from the desk and reached for your phone, surprised to see a missed call from Tom earlier that afternoon. I got denied. That’s the only possible reason he called so fast. 

But Tom’s message was the exact opposite - short and to the point, and when it ended, you stood in the center of your room, gripping the phone tightly in one hand. 

The homeowner had looked over your documents and references, and contingent on your background check’s results, was ready to accept the terms of your move-in offer. “As long as everything comes back good, you can come in on Wednesday and Thursday and sign the lease and hand over your deposit,” his voice through the speaker told you. “And then move in immediately after that. Might be premature, but … congratulations on findin’ something so fast. I’ll keep you updated.” 

“Oh, man.” Closing your eyes, you lowered your head. Things were progressing in record time - and once you were moved in, you wouldn’t have to worry about a housekeeper walking in and snooping through your stuff, which would make things even easier. It meant you could truly get lost in your work, surrounding yourself with your notes and everything your family had learned throughout the years. 

But there was something it also meant - a realization that your traitorous brain focused on much more quickly - and for much longer - than it should have. 

Once you moved into the guest house, you’d practically be neighbors with Frankie - and despite the assurances and declarations you’d both made that morning, you weren’t sure that either of you would be able to stick with them. 

— 

(one more attempt at a) tag list coming soon!

[albertasunrise]

So I have decided to try and do Whumptober! I can not promise all the fics will be out on time but I'll do my best 😬 there is the addition of Ben Miller too!

Here’s who’ll get what:

1) Sick - Javier Peña

2) Insomnia - Joel Miller

3) Sensory deprivation - Marcus Pike

4) Hiding an injury - Din Djarin

5) Hostage - Marcus Pike

6) Forced to hurt someone else - Benny Miller

7) CPR - Frankie Morales

8) Panic attacks - Joel Miller

9) Scar reveal - Erza

10) Branding - Din Djarin

11) Paralyzed - Marcus Pike

12) Character death - Frankie Morales

13) Crushed - Din Djarin

14) Field medicine - Javier Peña

15) Self Defence - Benny Miller

16) Chronic pain - Ezra

17) Hypothermia - Javier Peña

18) Fever - Frankie Morales

19) Left behind - Din Djarin

20) Mutilation - Ezra

21) Shock - Marcus Pike

22) Nerve Damage - Javier Peña

23) Forced to watch - Benny Miller

24) Failed escape - Din Djarin

25) Nightmares - Joel Miller

26) Non-Consensual Touching - Din Djarin

27) Forgotten - Frankie Morales

28) Oxygen deprivation - Javier Peña

29) "The easy way or the hard way?" - Joel Miller

30) Coma - Frankie Morales

31) PTSD - Benny Miller

Happy Whumping folks!

[redahlia-writes]

you make loving fun. | frankie morales x ofc

four. crystal

content (for this chapter): smut, family gatherings and That really annoying relative, a lot of feelings, a hint of possessiveness, frankie is once again being an idiot

word count: 5.8k

a/n: i'm so sorry for the delay, life's truly kicking my ass and i hope the chapter will make up for it. updates might be a little bit slow from now, but i'll do my best

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

series masterlist | masterlist

previous

“For the first few months of their relationship, Fish didn’t even know it was a relationship. They moved in together, and still he would say stuff like she’s not my girlfriend, we haven’t talked about it, I don’t want to pressure her. Considerate, really, but so–Alba, chiquitita, cover your ears a moment–so fucking dumb. And that was how I knew. We’ve known Frankie a really long time, we’ve been together through a lot, and that was the first time I’ve seen him be so stupid–which is saying a lot. But, after all, isn’t that what love does in the beginning? It makes you foolish, nervous, doubt things you would’ve never doubted before. It was a new look on him, and it made it crystal clear how enamored he was, probably without even realizing it in the beginning–because I know he fell for Camila right off the bat. And I mean, how could he not? He called me, that first morning, and even then Camila was a surprise. Will said it all already–funny, kind, smart, beautiful, but most of all right. You were, and still are, right for him, Cami, the right person at the right time, and that is something rare, something great. Sometimes I think we should thank you more, because you changed Frankie’s life, and with his, ours too–mine for sure, because not only did I get to see my best friend finally start living again, but I also gained a sister. So, one Garcia to the other: thank you. That being said, it’d be nice to have him back every now and then–seriously, they’re practically glued together, can’t keep their hands to themselves to save their lives! I have some stories–”

Frankie’s hand tightened slightly around the glass of water in his grip when he felt a hand clasping him on the shoulder, tight and all too buoyant, shaking him and forcing his eyes away from Camila, Alba and his mother–Alba was lying on her back over Verónica’s knees, the older woman laughing in her chair as the child stretched and let her head dangle back towards Camila, sitting on the grass and smiling.

“Who would’ve thought–young Cisco with an actual girlfriend,” the man at his side was grinning, a glaze clouding his eyes, mouth stained red from wine. “Well, not so young anymore, are you?”

“Takes one to know one, Nicky,” he retorted with a hint of a laugh, some of the tension melting from his shoulders when he saw Camila move again at the corner of his eye, could hear Alba’s loud giggles from his spot.

His cousin laughed, clearly not put off by his comment–he wasn’t trying to be mean, exactly, but out of all the people in the family currently gathered in his mother’s backyard–

“So you got one of the last good ones, huh?” he still had his hand on Frankie’s shoulder, standing a step back as they were angled towards the other three. Camila’s hand was underneath Alba’s head, supporting it up as she leaned in, brushing their noses together as the child giggled again. A small smile caught on Frankie’s lips, warmth spreading across his chest. “Man, and she’s good with the kid. You oughta keep this one.”

Frankie’s family wasn’t mean–they’d never given him too much shit for what had happened to him, for what he’d done, at least not to his face and certainly not to his mother’s, for they wouldn’t even be there if they had. But he’d gotten good at understanding people’s double meaning, at hearing the light shift in their voices. You oughta keep this one, not like the last one, or all the others before.

“Thanks, Nic,” he sighed–across the garden, Camila tilted her head as she looked at him. She quirked up an eyebrow, and he was quick to shoot a smile in her direction, the slightest shake of his head at her silent question.

“Fine, too, your girl,” he continued, clearly not put off by Frankie’s lack of trying at keeping up the conversation. “Young face, pity for the grays–I mean, she could always dye it,” he shrugged, before grinning and elbowing Frankie in the side, making him turn fully towards him, his lips pressed in a thin line as he inhaled deeply. “Although I’m sure she makes up for it plenty in–”

“Listen, Nicky–” he exhaled sharply, the sentence dying on his lips when he felt a hand brush up his back, from the lower side up–his shoulders sagged slightly, leaning towards Camila’s touch as she settled at his side.

“Sorry,” soft-voiced, she pulled his cousin’s perplexed gaze towards her, too. “I need to borrow Frankie for a moment–Alba spilled some juice on my dress and I could really use the help before it stains.”

“Oh, of course,” Nic cleared his throat, stepping back, his gaze flickering from one to the other–shy, all of a sudden. Frankie almost rolled his eyes, held in check only by Camila’s hand sliding into his, gently pulling him along.

“Alba wasn’t drinking anything,” he murmured, his head bowed slightly as they walked back inside the house. She shrugged lightly, then looked over her shoulder as she smiled–quick and amused, making him scoff. “Mila–”

“Just come with me for a moment,” she retorted before he could finish forming the protest. “Alba’s with Santiago and your mom, it’s alright,” she added as he went to speak again, walking past the kitchen and living room.

“I’m still not sure why he’s here,” Frankie muttered, making her chuckle and pull him slightly closer as she reached the stairs–he placed the glass on the closest surface at hand.

“According to him, he’s included in the family for the family reunion,” he got closer each step, his now free hand coming up to brush her hip. “Don’t get ideas, Morales,” she added, giving a delicate slap to the back of his hand.

“You’re the one getting me away from the rest of them,” he retorted as she pulled them both inside the bathroom–to which he arched an eyebrow, as if that was proof of his point even before she turned the key. “Really difficult to not get any ideas now,” Camila laughed, shaking her head before turning fully to face him, eyebrows slightly arched. “What?”

“Out with it,” she said simply, resting her hands on the countertop of the sink behind her back. Frankie frowned slightly, stepping closer again–she tipped her chin up to look at him, her gaze soft.

“With what?”

“You’ve been jumpy all day,” she told him, voice as soft as her eyes, and he wondered if he was truly that obvious or she simply knew him so well. “Your family is not so bad, you know? I mean, Nicky is–” she let the sentence hang, mouth turned in a grimace.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he sighed, and she shifted the weight on one hand to reach for his face with the other, cupping his cheek.

“You don’t have to apologize, honey,” she hummed, thumb brushing along the apple of his cheek, warm from the sun. “I like them–by now somebody in my family would’ve started a fight for sure,” she added with a quick grin that made him scoff out a laugh, gaze lowered. “But they’ve all been nice,” he must’ve tensed up again, because she tilted her head to try and meet his gaze. “Is that it?”

“No, it’s–I’m glad they are, it’s just–” her hand moved down across his cheek and jaw, pushing underneath his chin to get him to look up at last. “It’s nothing. Nicky said some shit, and he talked about me having an actual girlfriend or something,” he scoffed, gaze darting away and back–behind her, he saw their reflection in the mirror, her hair shifting with the movement of both her arms shifting up.

“Frankie, sweetheart,” her words carried her soft smile as she took his cap off, putting it aside because she held his face in her hands, looking at him with such tenderness in her eyes he almost crumbled in front of her, hands twitching at his sides. “So what?”

“I don’t know,” he groaned softly, eyes shut for a longer moment before letting out a long sigh. “We just never discussed it, and people keep bringing it up, and I didn’t want to pressure you or–” when he looked at her again, her lips were parted, brows knitted tightly with perplexity as he repeated, “I don’t know.”

“Pressure me?” her confusion bled into her voice, her touch getting a little hesitant for a moment–if he were to look past her head and into the mirror, Frankie would register the guilt in his gaze. Instead, he only noticed the realization dawn in her eyes. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry–I kept thinking I would bring it up and then never did and I was worried it would be too much, or too early,” he shifted back a little, her hands falling to his shoulders.

“Wait, so this is because he called me your girlfriend?” she asked, a little baffled. At his little nod, a quick laugh escaped her, and she pushed herself towards him. “Frankie, honey, we’ve lived together for two months,” she smiled as she said it.

“I know,” she locked her hands behind his neck, pulling him slightly closer in the process, fingertips pushing at the nape of his neck. “I just didn’t want to assume,” she laughed again, a little louder, and Frankie frowned once more, pouting slightly. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not, I promise I’m not,” she said quickly, getting herself closer, though still laughing. “I’m sorry, just–I thought there was nothing to discuss. You’re it for me?”

“You–” he was still frowning, a little deeper, and she let one hand move from the back of his head up across his face, gently kneading the spot between his eyebrows where lines were etched. “You’re still laughing. Camila–”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, unable to help herself as she shook her head through the laughter turned giggles, shifting her body weight so she was leaning against his chest. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, keeping her upright and ducking his chin to keep his gaze on her face, the lines at the corner of her eyes deepening as her smile widened. “Why would you worry about that, honey?”

“You told me you thought you’d jumped in too fast with that guy,” he’d been that guy for months now, no longer Jason–Camila found some amusement in it, her nose scrunching up.

“I did,” she nodded, bringing a hand to his chest while the other still cupped the back of his head. “But you’re not him, and I’m no longer 20-something, so I’d like to think I’ve wised up,” Frankie sighed, carefully lowering his head towards her. “Then again, I’ve moved in with you after–what, eight months? So maybe–”

“Mila,” he groaned in half-complaint, making her laugh again before she tipped her chin up, kissing him in full. He sighed again, the tension in his back melting away as her fingers brushed through his hair, the other palm pressed firmly against his heart.

When she didn’t pull back, Frankie’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him and straightening his back to sweep her off her feet, taking the half step that separated them from the countertop to sit her there–he slotted himself between her legs, her back arching slightly as her lips parted for his tongue.

He kissed and kissed and kissed her until the rest of the world blurred away, until there was no Nicky or Jason, no Santi nor the rest of his family, just the two of them tangled together, sharing soft breaths and touches and the only thing grounding him was the weight of her against him, the shift of her body as he let his hands wandered back and thighs and legs, right underneath her dress.

“Are you gonna ask me, then?” she breathed out once they parted, heavy breaths from both of them and Frankie’s vision blurry for just a moment as he chased her, interrupted only by her soft words, the hint of laughter in them.

“What?” he licked his lips as if trying to cling onto the taste of her, fingers digging into her flesh. Her cheeks were red, bruised lips as she looked up at him while it all came back into vision for Frankie. “Is it–official?” her smile turned into a snort at the uncertainty in his tone, a shimmer in her eyes to highlight her amusement.

“You can do better than that, Francisco,” she murmured, mockingly, and he huffed out a breath as his lips quivered in a semi-pout. Camila leaned forward, kissing it away, but before he could chase her again she pulled back abruptly–one hand on his chest, the other falling behind her over the counter to support herself.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he scoffed, letting his hands travel a little up across her skin, the skirt of her dress bunching up with the movement.

“Maybe,” she said with a light shrug, letting her hand travel down across his torso, lingering on each button–just teasing to undo them, Frankie’s eyes following the movement as his own fingers moved up and up. “You know what I’m going to say,” she murmured then, the tip of her first and middle finger hooking in his belt and pulling him forward ever so slightly, “ask.”

“I don’t need to ask,” he lowered his head towards hers, hooking his fingers at each side of her underwear–she squeezed her knees at his sides, humming softly as he pulled. “Do I?”

“Ask,” she repeated, lips still curved in an amused smile.

“Camila,” uttered as a warning before he kissed her again, a little harsher than before, almost feverish, pulling and pulling at her underwear that wouldn’t shift.

He could feel the laughter bubbling in her throat as she pushed against his lower stomach to make him step back, hopping down the counter to bare her lower half–Frankie kept his hands on her legs, her dress bunched up between the two of them, and slowly began lowering himself, ready to shift onto his knees in front of her.

“We don’t have time,” she mumbled against his lips, swiftly undoing his belt. “Later. Home.”

“Did you not tell me to not get any ideas?” his mocking question ended with a groan when she cupped her hand to his front, stroking his already half-hard length from above his briefs–his hips twitched into her touch, and he felt the grin forming on her lips at his immediate reaction.

“Ask me,” she replied instead, stroking him again.

Again, and again, until he was panting in her mouth, hips bucking with each movement–Frankie kissed her one more time before turning her around, her hands coming down against the counter for balance as he gently kicked her legs apart to slot himself closer, his still clothed front pressed against her back.

“I don’t have to ask,” he repeated, punctuating each word with a kiss to her neck, one hand to her hip as the other bared himself. Camila’s reflection smiled in the mirror, her head ducked as if hiding herself but not quite, as he pushed the tip of his length against the seam of her folds. “You’re my girl, aren’t you?” he murmured then against the shell of her ear.

Before she could form a response, her mouth fell open as he nudged at her entrance, slowly–agonizingly slow–starting to push into her. Her eyes rolled back and she nodded, soft gasps leaving her as she gripped the countertop, both of Frankie’s hands now on her hips, guiding her back to meet him.

“Look at you,” his gaze remained glued to the mirror as she tilted her head back towards him–her eyelids fluttered a moment, trying and failing to focus on their reflections as he kept going. “My beautiful girl,” another kiss to her neck, right behind her ear, making her shudder and rock her hips back. With a groan, his front pressed to her back as he sank fully inside her, he spoke against her shoulder, “mine.”

“’Course I am,” she panted, her thighs trembling slightly against his. “Yours,” at the word,  Frankie’s cock twitched, his grip on her hips tightening. “God–Frankie,” she moaned, back arching as her walls fluttered around him.

“Baby, you gotta keep quiet,” he mumbled, pushing forward so her hips were against the countertop, and he was leaning against her in turn. One arm wrapped around her middle to keep her flush to him, he let his other hand wander up across her torso, the fabric of her dress wrinkling underneath his touch.

“Thought you liked it when you could hear me,” her gaze flickered over their reflections, down to his rising hand and up to meet his eyes, a flush spreading from her heaving chest up and her lips slightly parted.

“Yes,” he shifted back, the slow drag of his length as he pulled out almost all the way making her breath quicken. “When I–” he snapped his hips forward, and Camila bit down onto her lip to keep herself from crying out, knuckles turning white as she gripped the counter a little harder, “can. Not the rest of the family.”

“We wouldn’t be here if that were a problem,” each word felt like it was punched out of her chest, Frankie’s movements steady, hitting a spot deep inside of her that had her vision wavering. “You enjoy the thrill, Francisco,” she added–not a question, rather her ability to read him so perfectly laid out in a tease.

And he did–he liked his life, his new one, with no drugs and very little alcohol, a steady, almost boring job, a home with the two halves of his heart, a bed with hogged blankets and slow nights. He loved that life–but sometimes he missed the rush, and Camila seemed to know exactly when he felt like he was starting to waver. Exactly what to do about it so that he wouldn’t topple over again, returning back to her each time.

“Fuck–don’t stop, don’t stop,” he’d gotten so lucky. He was so goddamn lucky.

The hand that had been traveling up her body moved up again, grabbing her by the chin to turn her head so that he could kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her, swallowing each sound away as he picked up his pace, his hips snapping against her skin almost too loudly–and only spurring him further.

A shiver ran through her as Frankie stopped with one last thrust, his head falling into the crook of her neck as he came–he tightened his hold around her, keeping her flush to his front. Her walls fluttered around his length buried deep within her, a weak, frustrated cry leaving her at his sudden stillness–he breathed out a quiet laugh before pulling his head up, chin hooked over her shoulder as he brought two fingers to his mouth, coating his fingertips before reaching for the apex of her core.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” Camila’s pupils were wide, eyes glazed over as she let her head loll back and sighed at his perhaps-too-delicate initial touch. Each of Frankie’s words was accompanied by a soft kiss across her skin–cheek and jaw and neck, his gaze never leaving her face as he began drawing quick circles over her clit.

“Frankie,” with a breathless cry, she grasped at his arm still wrapped around her, holding her upright. He kissed her neck, humming at her sharp intakes of air with each of his movements.

“I know,” he could feel her muscles grow taut under his touch, her thighs shaking as she got closer and closer–he groaned when she squeezed around his length, sensitive and softening as she tethered the edge. “Come on, baby, I can feel you–so good, you feel so good, baby, you–”

Camila twisted her neck and kissed him abruptly, harsh and trembling as her orgasm rippled through her–she quietened herself, the loud moan muffled by Frankie’s own bruised lips. He drank the noise greedily, slowing down the movement of his fingers until she twitched in his hold and dug her fingernails into the arm she was holding onto, a weak whine as she went limp into his hold.

He pulled out slowly, another softer moan escaping her as she folded forward, hands coming down to the countertop with a shaky exhale and equally shaky arms. His gaze remained low a moment longer, following the slow trail of their combined releases dripping down her thighs, and then he bowed down, kissed the space between her shoulders softly from above her dress.

“You alright?” he spoke softly, hands rubbing soothing circles on her bare hips as she evened her breathing, head hanging forward. She hummed quietly, rolling her shoulders back.

“I just need a minute,” she nodded, bringing her head upright again and wincing slightly. “Jesus–maybe two minutes,” she sighed, and Frankie chuckled softly, another kiss pressed against her shoulder as he tucked himself back in.

“Turn around,” he guided her by the hips tenderly, meeting her eyes for a brief moment in the mirror. “Let me clean you up.”

She hummed softly as she let him move her, leaning back again with her hands on the counter, her breath now even as Frankie recovered a clean towel from underneath the sink, turning on the water and waiting for it to turn lukewarm. Camila’s eyes remained on him as he moved, eyelids low and a tired half smile stretching across her lips.

He sank to the floor in front of her, gently brushing the towel up between her thighs, one hand on her calf rubbing circles with his thumb again against her skin, gentle and soothing. He helped her get dressed back up, smoothing down the skirt of her dress and pressing one last kiss to her now clothed hip before standing back up, mere inches from her.

“Promise me something,” she wrapped her arms around his middle, threading her arms underneath his. Frankie lowered his gaze to her still slightly flushed face, a small frown crossing his brow. “You’re gonna ask me whatever it is that crosses your mind, anything you want to–even if it’s something as banal as is my hair alright,” her fingers curled against his back, gently bringing him closer.

Frankie sighed, cupping her jaw in his hands before nodding–small movements, getting closer to leave a delicate peck against her lips.

“Promise,” he conceded, voice a little hoarse as he kept it low. “We should head back–you okay?” she nodded, mimicking his quick kiss before detangling herself from him and stepping aside, reaching for the door. “Wait, Mila,” he caught her hand as she unlocked the door, her gaze a little perplexed when she turned back around. “Is my hair alright?”

Camila laughed, a light roll of her eyes as she reached for the cap left on the countertop, putting it back on his head and pulling it low over his brow–he grinned in return, tipping his head back to keep his gaze on her.

“Better,” she nodded, wrinkling her nose before opening the door.

He pulled her under his arm once they were into the corridor, fixing his cap as she wrapped one of her arms around him again, bumping her hip with his while they stepped forward–and stopped at the stairs creaking, Santi’s head popping up with a deep frown that vanished as soon as he saw them.

“Ah, there you are–Alba’s been asking for you,” the other man said, looking at Camila, then made a face, somewhere between a pout and a grimace, muttering, “for some reason. Also, is it me or has Nicky gotten worse?” this he asked Frankie, his expression turning into a full scowl. His gaze then darted from one to the other, still tangled together, and surely somewhat guilty-looking–Camila’s face was still reddened, Frankie’s shirt slightly wrinkled, their hair just about messed up. Santi groaned, full on rolling his eyes. “Seriously? Gross.”

Camila laughed, loud and amused, leaving a rapid kiss to Frankie’s shoulder before sliding from under his arm, keeping her own open as she advanced towards Santi.

“Come here,” she said at his mock disdain, reaching for him. “Come on, Garcia–give me a kiss.”

“No, I don’t know where that mouth has been,” he argued, trying to step away and back down the stairs. Camila all but leaped for him, laughing again and throwing her arms around him–he quickly got his arms around her, too, keeping them both upright with a huff of protest as she smacked a kiss against his cheek. “Fish, will you keep your girlfriend in check?”

Frankie just watched them, the quick, purposefully sloppy kisses she peppered across his face from the upper step, his twisted expression as he tried to pull away but couldn’t make a move–they both knew it was an over-dramatization on Pope’s part, that he’d been basking in the affection Camila reserved for them all.

With one last kiss to Santi’s forehead–loud and possibly even sloppier, making him groan in protest–she skipped away with a laugh and a gentle pinch to his arm, one last glance in Frankie’s direction from above her shoulder with a wide grin across her reddened cheeks before walking down the stairs.

“What, no not my girlfriend?” Santi muttered, running a hand across his face before looking back up at Frankie–his gaze somewhat lost towards where Camila had gone.

“No, not this time, actually,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Oh, thank God,” Santi exclaimed, lifting his hands. “Seriously, fucking finally!”

Frankie had gotten used to sleeping as close to Camila as he could get–whether she was curled up in his arms, her back pressed against his front, or her body draped across his, it was rare for them to roll on opposite sides of the bed.

Mostly because she still hogged most of the covers, and Frankie would wake up in the middle of the night with half of himself exposed to the room, and she would then complain his hands were cold when he sought out her warmth.

He didn’t mind it one bit–each excuse he could find to feel her skin under his hands, to wake up and know she was still there, would be enough to make him withstand anything.

And he always woke up first, taking a few moments before her alarm would go off to look at her sleeping, relaxed face, hair braided back and away, eyelids trembling as she seemed to be following her dreams, lips slightly parted to let out soft huffs of air–he would pepper her skin in quick, delicate kisses as soon as she turned off the alarm, tightening his arms around her.

But the alarm didn’t sound that morning, and when he glanced over her shoulder to where the clock was he sat up so quickly the whole room spun, dragging the covers with him before turning towards the already curling up woman, her face twisting in a still-asleep frown.

“Mila, we overslept,” he called, gently shaking her by the shoulder. She groaned softly, burying her face into the pillow. “Mila,” he tried again, and she turned in his direction.

“You overslept,” she protested, bringing a hand up to rub her eyes. “I have the day off,” she added in a mumble, head heavy on the pillow and exposing the sleep lines on her opposite side of the face. “Did you not set an alarm again?”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, leaning in to press his lips to hers as he brought the covers back up over her while simultaneously sliding off the bed. “I didn't–you know I usually rely on you.”

“And that is twice you’ve made that mistake,” she mumbled, her eyelids drooping again, ever so slowly. Frankie scoffed, quick steps around the room as he searched blindly for some clothes. “I’ll take Alba to daycare, it’s alright.”

“Are you sure? You can go back to sleep,” he was still rummaging through the closet as he spoke, and suddenly the light was on and he could see the shirts hanging in front of him.

“I’m up already,” Camila groaned softly, and turning around he saw her sitting up, rubbing at her eyes again as she suppressed a yawn. Frankie’s expression softened as she kicked her legs off the bed, lingering there a moment with her head tilted forward slightly. “Go finish getting ready, I’ll make us some coffee.”

Frankie grabbed a shirt before turning around, padding across the room to reach her–he tipped her head back gently, hooking one finger underneath her chin before kissing her. Camila hummed softly, her eyelids fluttering open and shut and open again when he pulled back, thumb brushing along her jaw.

“See? I knew it’d be convenient for you to move in,” she snorted at his grinning remark, pushing him back with both her hands on his chest before getting up the bed, stretching as Frankie kissed her again, lips just at the corner of her mouth.

He passed by the living room once he was dressed, Alba sitting on the couch with her morning cartoons playing, hair still ruffled by the night–her breakfast was waiting on the coffee table, along with Camila’s empty mug.

“Morning, nena,” he murmured, placing a kiss to the top of her head. The child moved her legs, bouncing her feet and smiling and looking up at her dad. “Are you waiting for Mila?”

“Ma!” voice laced with sleep, Alba nodded, eyes squinting as she smiled. Frankie chuckled, ruffling her hair before heading towards the kitchen, leaving her to the images on the screen.

It was a new development, ma–an imitation of Frankie, of possibly the other children at daycare. The beginning of a word that signified much more for them both. The three of them, actually. Frankie’s doubts had dwindled with one single word, and he had started to tell her truly what went through his mind (almost everything).

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” he murmured as he walked up to her at the sink, one hand falling to her hip as he reached for the travel mug she was already offering him with the other. She smiled in the reflection of the mirror, taking the moka pot from the turned off stove. “I’ll set an alarm next time, I promise.”

“Heard that one before,” she chuckled, bumping her shoulder into his front as she gently leaned back into his half-hazarded embrace. “Go on now, before you’re late.”

“Thank you,” he kissed the curve of her neck–a peck, really, quick and non-committal. “I love you,” he added then, stepping back.

Camila’s head straightened abruptly, the sleep seemingly still clinging to her leaving her all of a sudden, and in the reflection he saw her eyes widen ever so slightly.

He told her almost everything.

Until that moment. He wasn’t sure he’d fully woken up just yet.

“Alright, bye,” he said just as quickly, a little louder, walking away before she could even begin turning around. Alba babbled for him from the couch and he went on, holding his breath through the corridor and entrance, down the steps and across the front yard until he reached the car.

Only then did he exhale, heavy and almost too loud as he leaned his head forward towards the steering wheel, almost hitting his forehead to the honk in the process, a soft groan abandoning him. I love you. Alright, bye.

“For fuck’s sake–” he muttered, bumping his head against the wheel again. “Alright, bye?” he grimaced. He jumped in his seat at the quick knocking against the window, pulling his head straight quickly and turning around, gripping the mug tighter to not topple it. “What–”

Camila stood next to the car, hair wild around her now that it was unbraided as she gestured at him to lower the window, bouncing ever so slightly on the spot. With a slight frown he did as she asked, and before he could form the question she was leaning into the car, grabbing him by the collar of the shirt to pull him closer and kiss him.

Frankie’s body relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut as he shifted in the seat and brought his free hand to her shoulder–he could feel her lean closer and closer, her torso sticking inside the car as she used his shirt as leverage and kissed him, kissed him, kissed him.

“I love you too,” she gasped, pulling back. Though his gaze was unfocused and he felt slightly breathless, dizzy, he managed to make out the shape of her body draped over the car door, legs dangling and the shirt of her pajama riding slightly across her back. “I thought you heard me already–a while ago.”

“What while ago?” he muttered, still a little dazed. He would think about her smile for the rest of the day, distracted out of his mind.

“I was talking with Alba, she couldn’t sleep,” the tip of her thumb brushed the side of his neck, right where his pulse was stuttering rapidly. “Telling her how much you love her–and I love her, and you,” she murmured, still leaning close, the tip of her nose almost brushing his.

“Well you didn’t tell me,” he could feel the pout on his mouth that seemed to only pull her smile wider. “I just thought–” she kissed him quickly this time, pulling back before he could register it, return it.

“Always a bad idea, honey,” she quipped, her eyes shimmering ever so slightly. “I told you, Frankie–you can tell me anything. Everything.”

“I know,” he sighed with mock defeat, leaning towards her until he was the one resting against the car door and she could touch the ground again, his head sticking out of the window. “Everything?” he asked then, looking up at her once she straightened.

“Yes,” she let her hand shift so it was cupping his jaw, thumb pushing gently into his cheek.

“You keep stealing the covers,” he whispered it, like it was a secret, and after the moment of initial shock Camila laughed. As she laughed, he turned his head to kiss her wrist, the heel of her hand, her palm, words murmured against the soft skin there– “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she repeated–she’d repeat it over and over from then on, whispered close to his ear or shouted from across the house when either one or the other left for the day, mumbled before falling asleep and just awoke. It’d always have the same effect on Frankie. “But I’m cold, so I’m not giving up the covers.”

“I know you’re not,” he chuckled, taking her hand in his to turn it around and kiss her knuckles, too. “I’ll just have to stick close, then.”

She hummed in assent, squeezing his hand in hers before leaning one last time, the kiss too brief for both their tastes–if it were up to them, that’d be where they’d spend the whole day, just as close to each other as they could get.

“I’ll see you later,” she said instead.

Frankie remained in the driveway a moment longer, watching as she ran back inside–still barefoot, a light skip in her step, and one last look over her shoulder towards him.

next

[icanbeyourjedi-writes]

It Was Just A Dream Chapter Three

Summary: Going back to work was easy, hearing that Alex has a date is not.  Frankie spirals at the news, and what happens next could change the friendship.  Words: 7,591 Rating: 18+ Adult Themes Warnings/Triggers:  Addiction, Falling for Your Brothers Friend, Language, OFC is somewhat described as someone with longer hair, but no race/eye color/body type   A/N: I don’t know much about addiction, just the things that I googled and seen portrayed on TV. This is completely an AU. I had the beginning of this story pop in my head randomly and thought it sounded fun to explore. Sure we all love Frankie was that sweet puppy dog…but what if he had his own inner demons he had to battle with.  The ‘coke charge’ was mentioned in TF and I kinda wanted to explore that side of him. 

Thank you to @theewokingdead for the beta

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

Frankie Morales, 25, a talented pilot, Army Vet and now sticker enthusiast. I don’t think I have ever spent so much time in the sticker aisle. We’ve been here for at least an hour and I am sure the pile of stickers in the basket are already at fifty bucks.  But I can’t help it, he’s excited, he’s smiling and I see the old Frankie. The Frankie before he got hurt. 

“Lex…Lexi they have vampire teeth!” he races over to me dropping the stickers into the cart joining the helicopters, military helicopters, cats, cat paws and of course who could forget catfish. And because that wasn’t enough he added tropical fish to the pile as well. 

“I‘ve created a monster” I sigh to myself. I start to think this crazy thrown together idea might actually work. I’ve never been in his shoes. I don’t know what he deals with, what he has dealt with. But I do know a reward system works. It works for the kids who come into the doctor's office. Get the shot, get a sticker or a sucker depending on the doctor. 

Frankie walks back towards me with one more package of stickers, fire trucks. I look at him and he just shrugs, the other stickers made sense. They all fit him; cat, fish, helicopters, “what?” He shrugs “when I was a kid, I thought about being a firefighter”

“You’ve always wanted to help people?” I ask 

He pulls the brim of his worn out baseball cap and drapes his arm over my shoulder, a small nod. Over the years I have been able to learn his mannerisms and his ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ look. This was that look. Hat pulled down, eyes on his feet, biting his bottom lip. 

“Think we have enough?” I ask quickly changing the subject

“Maybe” his voice still soft 

15 packages of stickers and $50 dollars later, I hope this plan works. I know he is going to have to eventually go to classes, especially when that voice gets loud. But it’s day four and I still have some hope. We stop for some takeout. Pizza, it was quick, easy and who doesn’t love a good slice of pizza. 

I lean back on the couch, Frankie finishing his slice and pushes his plate away. He picked the movie tonight…his choice of movie completely shocked me. The final scenes of ‘Bridesmaids’  starts to play, as the two characters start to sing “Hold On”. Frankie leaning against the arm rest. His hand tapping against his leg as he hums along. I can’t help the smile on my face as I watch him. He slowly starts to sing the words. Quiet at first until that first chorus hits.  

“…things will go your way, if you hold one for one more day…” he sings along, eyes closed fully in the moment. 

I will be fully honest with you. When I told Frankie he could pick the movie tonight. I was expecting Top Gun, Saving Private Ryan, maybe even Green Mile. I never would have guessed that he liked the RomCom genre. I turn to face him, he has my attention as he continues to sing. It’s only when I giggle that he opens his eyes and looks at me. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” I smile. It was cute, he was relaxed, he for another brief moment was the old Frankie. I want to keep him like this “uhm so you know I start work tomorrow” 

“I know” he sighs. He sounded disappointed 

“Can I have your phone?” I ask 

Without hesitation he reaches into his pocket and hands it over to me. I touch the screen and it lights up with what else but a helicopter as his photo. I touch the screen again and enter in the passcode “it’s your birthday” I hear him say. 

“I know” I look up and smile at him. 

I asked him once, why it was my birthday. Instead of his girlfriends, or his…or literally any other four digits he could have picked. I don’t want to forget your day, he said. He rubs the back of his neck, a tell that he doesn’t know what to say next. 

She’s right, it’s been her birthday since the day I met her. She was one of the few who listened when I talked. Cared how I was feeling, she was the only one to send me care packages and letters when I was away. My own girlfriend never sent me a care package. 

I watch, she has her tongue peeking out of her slightly parted lips. She was concentrating, she looked beautiful, but she always did. I don’t know why I handed my phone over so willingly. But the truth is, I would do anything she asked me to. I’d take a bullet for her with no hesitation. 

“Ah-ha, there it is” she says and I can’t keep his eyes off her. 

“What are you doing?” I finally asks

I watch as her finger slides up the screen, “deleting your friend George” she responds matter of factly. “Frankie, I trust you. I do. But you're going to be alone. I just…I don’t want you to feel like you need to contact him” 

She was right, smart even. It had been a few weeks since I had talked to ‘George’. But I didn’t think she knew how easy it would be for me to get something if I needed it. George wasn’t his only source. I didn’t want to use, I wanted to be better. But the struggle of staying clean was getting harder as the drugs left my system every day. 

“And I’m adding my work number incase you can’t get me on my cell” she clicks the button on the side of the phone and hands it back over. “I also think…it might be good to find a class or two to go to while I’m at work” 

“You don’t want me to be alone” I groan. The mere thought of having to go around in a  ‘share your feeling’ circle had me panicking. I watch as Steve’s name flashes across the screen asking if he has been ok. It’s been well over a month since I had texted him for a supply. And no, despite my best efforts he wasn’t ok 

“You know you could always call Nicole” I don’t know why I said that, I really don’t want him to call her, “she’s a nurse at a rehab facility. She would know what to do” she would and that’s what I hate the most. She would know how to help him in more ways than one 

“Lex, you know you can have meaningless sex with someone. You don’t have to like the person…” 

I pretend to be shocked by his statement. My number was a lot smaller than Frankie’s. Ok he probably had double maybe triple the partners than me. I know you don’t have to be in love with the person, I know you don’t even need to know their name. But call me old school, I like to have it mean something. 

“Yeah, I know that, but thanks for reminding me” the words sound a lot harsher than I intended. “Look, I’m just saying you're going to be on your own, and I’m proud of how far you’ve come. But I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t want to worry.” 

I remember the day I found him slouched at the picnic table. If I would have been a few more minutes we might not be sitting here right now. I really don’t want to think what would happen if I don’t get to him in time and he OD’s while I'm at work. 

I keep checking my phone to see the time. My body is at work, and I am going through the motions, checking patients in. Answering phones. But my mind, my mind is at home with Frankie. I wonder what he is doing.  Has he had lunch, did he take a shower, did he change? Did he do a line of coke, did he call Nicole? 

I reach for my phone when the bell on the door chimes. My head still down when Laura elbows me in the rubs and I look up seeing a drop dead gorgeous man walk in the door. Short brown hair, styled in that way where it looks he ran his hands through it after a shower and called it good.  It looked so soft. Sun-kissed skin, a Romanesque nose.  Wearing a suit that fits his shoulders and muscles just right. He had a profile that romance novel authors write about.

“That’s the new sales rep I mentioned” Laura whispers as he walks closer to our receptionist desk

“Good afternoon ladies” he says with a smile that you just know gets him exactly what he wants every time. His voice is like butter, and damn can someone be attracted to a voice?

I smile at him, glancing at Laura who looks like she is about to pass out 

“Hi” she says, batting her eyelashes at him, “what did you bring us today?” 

“Just some new test gowns for patients. They are easier to tie when alone” he smiled again and I swear there is a twinkle in his eye 

“Oh hi, I’m Dave. I don’t think we’ve met before” he looks at me and I am pretty sure my heart stops with the way he’s looking at me 

“Al…Al” why can’t I remember my name 

“Alex” Laura coughs

“Hi…hello, yeah I’m Alex. Alexandra” I return his smile and shake his outstretched hand. My heart beats faster as our hands touch and my face feels hot 

His hands are soft, gentle but strong. I don’t know why but I don’t want to let go of his hand. After what I am sure is an extremely awkward amount of time he is pulling his hand away. I could be imagining it, but his eyes stay locked on mine. “It was really nice meeting you Alexandra. You ladies have a good afternoon and I’ll see you next week” 

I don’t say anything, I just sit there and nod like. Weirdo while Laura waves bye to Dave as he heads out the door. 

“Who the fuck was that?” I ask once my brain starts to function again 

“Dave’s our new sales rep and we’re in love” she smiles “he just doesn’t know that yet” she twirls her long blonde hair around her finger. 

Laying on the couch, my hands under my head.  I’m counting the little black specks I find on the ceiling. 

3,452

Did the day always go by this slow?  It feels like it’s been 12 hours…I look at the clock. It’s been three. It wasn’t even time for lunch yet. I was beyond bored, if I was in rehab I would be looking for excuses to not go to the round table therapy. Finding new ways to avoid talking, waiting for Nicole to co-I closes my eyes. 

After a few moments I sit up and make my way to his room, still sitting on his desk untouched was the stack of pamphlets that cop gave me. I pick one up and start to look at it. ‘Let us guide you’. I roll his eyes seeing a picture of a business type man, standing with his hands in his pockets in the front of a podium. 

“Nope” I pop the ‘p’ not even bothering to open it and drop it in the trash

The next one, a few men and women in military fatigues. In big bold letters, ‘FIND YOUR HIGHER POWER’ a class for veterans run by veterans. I rub his face, the VA rehab didn’t work and this for sure wasn’t gonna help. “No, thank you” I toss it in the trash with the other one. 

It felt like an hour had passed, I knew she should be home soon.  I looks at the clock on the night stand, it was 20 minutes.  There was a small part of me that wanted a hit.  She’s at work, she’ll never know.  My hands twitch, I pick up his phone, my fingers hovering over Steve’s name…

I know I shouldn’t, I’ve been trying to stay clean.  I wants to stay clean, but every fiber in my being wants a little fun.  A notification appears, a new text message and my heart stops for a brief moment.

I was ready for the day to be over, I wanted to go home.  I wanted to check on Frankie, make sure he was doing ok.  But, I still had hours to go, calling him every hour felt like I was babying him and I didn’t want that, but I was also worried that being alone the temptation was going to be too much.  I deleted George, but I knew he had others, I knew if he wanted it bad enough he’d find a way. 

     Me: Hey, How’s it going?

     Fishie 🐟: Have hours always ticked by this slowly?

     Me: Valid question, I don’t know.  But it feels like I have been here for a week, and I still have two hours left. 

     Fishie 🐟: It feels like you have been gone for a year.                          I need paint.

Crap, why in the hell does he need paint? What did he do?

     Me: Why? Franklin, what did you do?

     Fishie 🐟: I fixed the hole in the wall

     Me: Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.  

     Fishie 🐟: Well I am the reason there was a hole, I needed to fix it

I can’t help but smile, my heart melts a little at his words.  I remember that night, it was the first time I think I was scared of him, what he could do.  The anger in his eyes, the way his nostrils flared.  He’s never hurt me, he’s never laid a hand on me, except for our awkward hugs.  But I have never seen that look, the look of rage, horror and pain.  I can honestly save it’s a look I hope to never see again.  I responded telling him I will stop on my way home and I would grab some dinner for us. 

With paint in one hand, and a bag of food in the other I walk in the door, shouting a little ‘honey, I’m home’ kicking the door closed behind me and making my way to the kitchen to set the bag of food.  He didn’t respond.  I don’t know what I was expecting, Frankie running out and wrapping me in a hug.  Frankie squealing with excitement, I don’t know.  Really I was expecting anything to let me know that he heard me. I set the food on the table and go in search of Frankie.  

His bedroom light is on, I move closer but I don’t hear anything.  I turn to the open door and find him lying on the bed.  Not sure if he is asleep, I tap on the door gently before I step in.  I know it's my house and all, but he still deserves respect for his privacy and me not just walking into his room.  I thought I was being quiet but his head instantly lifts up to see me walking into his room before lying down again. 

“Do you know how many little black specks there are in this room?” he asks his voice flat

“What?” I look up to the ceiling, honestly I didn’t even know there was black speck in the paint.  I never changed the ceiling paint color when I moved in.  It was white and I just kinda left it

“There are 2,873…” he says sitting up, “and there are 3,452 in the living room” 

“Hmmm” I comment still looking up, what do you know if you look close enough there are little black specks

“There are 643 in the bathroom” he moves closer, wrapping my entire body into a bear hug, “I was really fucking bored without you” 

I don’t know if I should smile or be seriously concerned about this. I wrap my free arm around his waist returning his hug.  He took a shower today, and he smells amazing.  He smells like Christmas.  Cinnamon, fennel and pine.  There’s also something so uniquely Frankie that I can’t put my exact finger on it.  He has clean clothes too I notice, and while the counting of the little black specks has me worried.  I am proud of him for taking small steps without me telling him to shower.

“I got a surprise for you” I grin and pull back from the hug

“More stickers?”

“Why don’t you go to the kitchen and find out” 

I watch as he all but runs to the kitchen, I stay by his bedroom and he cheers when he sees the bag of Thai food on the table. ‘THANK YOU’ I hear him yell.  The feelings I get are indescribable, it feels like he has been living here with me for years. As each day passes I think I am falling in love with him.  I can’t fall in love with him, my brothers will kill me if I did. 

“I found a NA meeting place…class?” he says putting more food on his plate

“That’s great” 

“It’s a few nights a week.  The paper said I can go once a week or to all of them” 

Maybe having something planned in my schedule would make the day go faster.  Knowing I had something to do might help my mind not think about it.  I was so close to texting Steve for a few rocks.  Just a few…enough to get by until Benny was home again.  Hell I was close to texting Nicole just to have something, or someone to do.  I’ve been living with Alex for a little over a month, and while things were good I wanted to go home.  Benny would give him my space, I could get fucked up and Benny would never notice.  That, and I was falling for Alex. I can’t fall for her, she was off limits.

“I think that’s great” she smiles at him.  She’s proud of me, the smile on her face says it all, “maybe you can find ways to help fight the urge.  Find out how I can help you” I nod “cuz I have no fucking clue what I am doing”

The next day wasn’t any better.

Lunch had rolled around and Laura had left me alone at the desk. It was a slow day, so the workload was pretty easy. I finish up a phone call when the little bell on the door chimes letting me know someone had walked in.  I love up and see Dave walking towards me, damn was he hot. I smile at him and put the phone down.

I notice he doesn’t have anything in his hands this time, like he did yesterday.  Maybe Laura and him were really a thing. 

“Hey Dave, Laura is at lunch if you wanna come back” 

“I actually came to see you” his lips curve up, and there was that damn gleam in his eyes again

“Oh?” Was the best response I could think of at the time

“So, I know we just met and this sounds kinda crazy but…” he starts

“Here’s your number so call you maybe” the fuck was that Alex I think

He laughs, ok maybe that response wasn’t as bad as I thought.  Why did I become so socially awkward when a handsome man was standing in front of me and I think he was flirting. 

“Something like that, I was wondering if you might like to join me for dinner on Friday?” he asks 

Wait, is he serious? Did he just ask me out?  Is this really happening?  I think my brain stopped working for a few moments, then I heard his voice again “Alex?”

“YES” I say a little to loudly, he chuckles “yes, Dave that would be great”

We exchanged numbers, he said he’d pick me up on Friday around 8 for dinner. 

I stood by the front door, adjusting my hair one last time before Dave was to arrive.  Frankie watched me like a hawk from the couch. Ever since I told him about my date, he had been weird.  Not wanting me to leave his side when we were home. I didn’t know what was going on, he was being clingy and we weren’t even dating. 

“Where are you going?” He asks

“I have a date, I told you” I sigh 

“And your wearing that?” 

She was in a little black dress.  The hem stopped mid thigh, it hugged every single one of her curves perfectly.  The deep v-neck not leaving much to the imagination.  The small strings holding it together in a complicated, twisting pattern down her back.  There was no way I was going to let her be going out of the house like this.  I didn’t know Dave, but I didn’t need to know exactly where his thoughts were going to be seeing her dressed like this. Her hair was effortlessly curly tonight, flowing like a wave down her shoulders.  She looked like an angel in every sense of the word. Her makeup was simple, enhancing her beauty and I was jealous of this guy getting to take her out. 

“Yes, is there a problem?” She slips into her black stilettos that only enhanced her long toned legs

“Yeah, there is” I was angry that she was going out with this man who was probably better than me in every way. “You look like a…a…” I stutter

“A what Francisco?” She hears a car pulling into her driveway and she grabs her dark green leather jacket

“Fuck, you just..ugh…you like Iike your asking for it” I finally says and the doorbell rings

‘Shit, did I really just say that?’  I wanted to be Dave, he wanted to be the one taking her out for dinner.  I wanted to be the one she was wearing a dress like that for. My heart has belonged to her, but I am to much of a dumbass to do anything about it

“Fuck you, I’ll be back later” her words laced with anger as she opens the door.  “Hey Dave, lets go” her voice suddenly cheerful as she slams the door closed behind her. 

Strike two…at this rate I might as well pack up my shit and leave before she gets back. She is the one working, she is the one providing for me while I sit in my room feeling sorry for myself counting stupid little black specks of paint on the ceiling. I went to one class and hated it.  I reach for my phone on the coffee table

“Hello?” The voice on the other end answers

“Hey, wanna get fucked up tonight?” I ask

“Never thought you asked.  I got some good stuff, meet at Hangers?” 

“Yes please. Let’s do this, I need to forget” 

Talking with Dave was easy. The conversation flowed and there was never an awkward moment.  Dave told me about his time working for the FBI, crime scene detective but things weren’t working the way he wanted to, he felt trapped and wanted something else.

“So now you try to convince people to buy overpriced medical supplies?” I grin  

“I can be very convincing when I want to be” he smiles, “I convinced you to go out with me” 

“Fair” 

I should be enjoying my time with this handsome man sitting in front of me, I shouldn’t be thinking about Frankie.  But that is exactly what is happening. We’ve had a rough few days, ever since I told him about my date that afternoon and I hate that we got into an argument before I left. Dave had asked if I wanted to go for a short walk around the lake and with my mind only half functioning I agreed to it.  His fingers slowly intertwine with mine. 

We stop in front of a little fountain with a small stringed band. A violin, a cello, and a harp play lovely music.  Dave spins me and places a hand on my waist as we sway to the music. I placed a hand on his shoulder, there was a part of me that thinks he had this entire thing planned. It was too perfect, then there’s the hopeless romantic in me that is loving every minute of it.  We continue to dance as more couples join us. 

“I use to be in a band” his lips brush over my ear sending a shiver down my spin

He pulls back smiling at me, my fingertips gently playing with the short hair at the nape of my neck.  He leans in closer to me and I close my eyes waiting for our lips to touch when I hear the undeniable ringtone ‘Highway to the danger zone…’ begins to play from my back pocket.  Trying to ignore the call, I pull Dave’s face closer when the song begins to play again.

“Shit, I’m sorry” I shake my head and back away from him.  I don’t even look at the name on the caller ID to know it’s him. “What do you want now?” I answer a little annoyed

“Ms. Miller?” 

“Very funny Franklin” I don’t hear a laugh from the other end “Frankie?” 

“Is this Alex” the voice says again, it’s hard to hear over the music and crowd hum in the background 

“Yes it is, is everything ok?” sudden panic washing over me

“Hi, I’m Clint, down at Handlebars, and your friend here is very intoxicated and might be on some kind of drug. But he is trying to start fights with other patrons. I do what I can to not call the cops, but ma’am he is getting out of hand, and I need you to come get him” the voice becomes clearer

“Fuck,” I pinch the bridge of my nose, “I’m not close its going to be a little bit before I can get there” 

“We have him sitting outside at the moment, but if he tries to punch someone again, I will have to have the police involved” 

“Can I talk to him for a minute?” I ask 

Why was he doing this?

A couple lines of coke, two beers and a half dozen of tequila shots later I was feeling pretty damn good. I was currently in the bathroom, with some blonde chick's lips on my dick. I knew I wasn’t going to last long after all the shit I’ve  taken but damn did it feel good. 

“Shit…” I mutter, gathering her hair in a fist behind her head, bracing myself against the sink with the other. One more deep throat by her and I was a goner.  My cock still pulsing as she lets me go. Standing up, she wipes her face before leaning in giving me a sloppy kiss. 

“That was fun…” she pats my cheek, “…find me again some time” she flips her hair back unlocking the door she steps out leaving me alone. Pants still around his ankles, heart racing as I try to catch my breath. 

I reach over and locks the door, grabbing a paper towel I turn on the water and clean myself up.  I look at myself in the mirror, my eyes red with dark circles below them. I look like I had aged 15 years from just this morning. I should be feeling great, I finally had cocaine back in my system, I was buzzed, and I just got a free blow job from Kitty? Maybe that was her name. Frankly I didn’t care, I also forgot the minute her lips touched mine. The only thing I could think about was how disappointed Alex was going to be in me. I should go home. 

I step out of the bathroom and make the trek back to the bar next to Steve. Walking past the set of pool tables I stumble into a big burly biker. Leather vests, tattooed arms, a bandanna wrapped around his head with a long salt and pepper beard. 

“Watch where your walking” the man grunts 

“Make me fucker” I slur 

The large man shoves me from behind making me stumble into a table full of empty glasses. I turn around, bringing my fist back. I go to punch the man who shoved me. My hand moved slowly then my brain was working and the large biker threw his own punch hitting me on the check. A gash opens along my cheek and blood begins to flow. A bouncer steps in pulling us apart. He drags me outside, and sets me on a bench around the corner of the building. 

Steve is nowhere to be found and now a young punk looking kid is yelling at me for disturbing the peace inside his bar. Demanding me to give him my phone before threatening to get the police involved. Begrudgingly I unlock the phone and hand it over. 

“Ms. Miller” I hear him say 

Shit…strike three. 

The man handed me my phone back, I shoved it in his pocket. And with that he was gone leaving me alone with the bouncer. I lean back, head hitting the brick wall behind me. The high I was feeling moments ago, now fading realizing that there is a 95% chance that Alex was not going to forgive me. 

“Thanks, I am so sorry” I unbuckle my seatbelt

“Are you going to be ok?” Dave asks placing a hand on top of my thigh

I take a deep sigh, honestly I didn’t know. I was having fun, it was turning out to be a good night, then Frankie called. I was angry, I was frustrated, I was upset. But I don’t want to drag Dave down with me. I turn my head to face him, giving him a quick kiss to his check. 

“Yeah, I’ll be good. Thank you again” I say opening the door 

“Call me when you get home” I nod and close the door. 

I walked into the bar, stopped by a burly man who I guessed was a bouncer. “Can I help you?” He asks 

“Yeah I’m looking for uhm Cliff? Clint maybe…the owner he has my friend” I couldn’t remember the name of the man now that I was here. Hurt, anger, disappointment so many emotions and I was going to have to keep them in check when I got to Frankie. Clearly being the ‘friend’ wasn’t working and I was going to need a different approach. 

“Are you Mrs. Miller?” The bouncer asks 

“Ms. but yes” 

“Outside, to the right. Let him know he’s now allowed back. Gary doesn’t want to press charges but your friend is trespassed from here” 

‘Press charges? He’s trespassed? Fuck what did he do?’ My thoughts are racing, did I really want to know. He had been in a mood since I told him about my date, and yet here I am recusing him yet again. 

I walk back outside and look to the right, not seeing right away. I walk down to the edge of the building and turn the corner, finding him sitting on a beat up wooden bench with a large man acting like a bodyguard. He was the size of a tree, his arms were massive and I’m fairly sure he could squish someone like a bug if he wanted to. 

Frankie in his usual tan colored Carhartt jacket, his favorite black baseball cap pulled down low. He turns my direction when he hears my heels on the pebbles. He has a long gash on his left cheek, dried blood under it. He continues to sit there, more anger floods my veins. 

“There she is, there’s my girl” 

I stop in front of him, my arms crossed over my body. This is where the relationship changes, I will no longer be sweet, it’s time to lay down the law and get his ass clean. 

“Get up” my voice is stern

He doesn’t move, he continues to sit there. A small smile pulling on his lips, acting as if he isn’t a complete fucking disaster. He raises his arms and makes grabby hands, beckoning me to come help him. I shake my head no. 

“Get the fuck up Morales” I cross my arms, he needs to know I’m upset and his little act isn’t going to help me. I swear I hear the tree of man chuckle at the situation playing out in front of him. 

“Help Me” he turns his head looking at me with this sad puppy eyes, this eyes he knows I can’t say no to

“No. You got into this, now get up” I am trying to not break, but he knows what to do to get me to break 

Groaning, he places his hands on the edge of the bench and pushes himself up. He sways where he is standing. He looks at his feet, his mind willing his feet to move. Putting his left food in front of the right and he stumbles. Before thinking I move to him. My heels make us the same height and easier for him to lean against me. Wrapping his arm over my shoulder I wrap mine around his waist. Adjust his hold on me he leans his head against mine, “I knew you’d catch me” he slurs 

“You’re on thin ice Francisco, don’t push it” I groan as he leans all his weight into me

“Mi Cielito” he says softly

“Where’d you park?” I ask, my hand readjusting around his hip as he holds me like a cutch and we stumble in the parking lot 

He shrugs, “don’t remember” his face is towards me, I scrunch my face as he reeks of alcohol 

After what feels like an hour of wandering around this parking lot, his truck finally comes into view, of course Frankie would be back in the back, in the middle of nowhere. Sighing a ‘thank god’, I hope he didn’t hear.  I stop by the passenger door, and I lean him against it, praying that he doesn’t fall.  Reaching into his coat pocket I pull out the keys and unlock the door. I grab him by the waist and turn his body into the truck. 

“You could at least by me dinner first” he chuckles adjusting his body in the car

“Shut up Francisco, you still have the first aid kit in here?” I ask looking under the front seat before moving to the back

Before Frankie can answer I pull out a little red box, his head leaning against the headrest. I watch as he struggles to keep his eyes open. With the first aid open, I rip open the wet-nap. I take his chin and gently turn his head towards me so I can see what I am doing better. The street lamp offers minimal light. I clean the dried blood on his cheek, and expect the gash. Tossing that at Frankie’s feet, I grab a towel from the kit and as carefully as I can dap the area dry. He flinches in pain. Finally I open the antibiotic cream, and rub a line of it over the cut hoping to keep it clean for the moment.

“It doesn’t look like you need stitches” I tell him, “what the fuck happened?”

“I got punched” he mumbles “asshole”

“Yeah, I can see you got punched, what did you do?” I ask again

“He shoved me, then I tried to punch him and he hit first” he rolls his eyes “are you mad?” 

Honestly, I didn’t know anymore. I was angry at him. I thought we were doing well, but that just proved to me this little sticker thing was a dumb idea from the start. I was sad, I was hurt, disappointed, but with all these feelings, the word mad didn’t come up anymore. I was worried about him. 

“I don’t know…” I turn his body forward, reaching behind him I grab the seat belt and lean over his body to hook it in. “I really don’t know anymore” I sigh and close the door 

The drive home was silent, he had his head against the window and I couldn’t tell if he was asleep, or just trying to ignore me. He tried to tell me how unsafe driving barefoot was, but driving with those heels and this truck was more dangerous than whatever gross shit was on his floor.  

“How much did you drink?” I ask

“A couple beers, half dozen shots of tequila…” he pauses, “also…did a few hits of coke” 

“Frankie…” I sigh

Before I can ask him, he begins to tell me he didn’t mean to. He wanted to forget, he wanted to numb the pain. He didn’t know what else to do, so he called a friend. They did a few lines, then went into the bar. I know I shouldn’t, but I feel guilty. I feel like his slip is my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone on a date. Work was one thing, but me going on a date made me feel worse. I wasn’t there when he needed me.  

“Are you mad?” I ask again, but he doesn’t look at her, he can’t handle it. 

I wasn’t worried about her being mad.  No, mad I could handle that. However, the answer she gave me, that’s the answer that hurts the most. Disappointment, it was worse than being mad or angry. I could work with those. But, disappointment was the worst. I was now at rock bottom. I shake my head, and lean against the window. Closing my eyes and praying they wouldn’t re-open. 

I feel her hand on my shoulder, gently shaking me “hey sleepy head. Time to wake up, we’re home” 

I groan and lean further into the door trying to escape her touch. My eyes stay closed “sleepy time here” 

“You aren’t sleeping in your truck, let’s get inside. You think you can help me?” She asks

“Oomppf” I groans, when the door I’m leaning against opens, the seat belt doing its job and keeping me up right in the car

Alex reaches into the truck and unhooks the seatbelt, grabbing my hands and she helps me slide out of the truck. She draps one of my arms over her shoulder, and wraps one around my waist, letting me lean against her.  Our height difference isn’t much, but she is supporting most of my weight. 

“Step…” she says and I lift a foot. The two of us stumble up the steps and my head is hurting. I really wish she would have just left me in the truck. 

We stop at the door, my arm moves, readjusting my grip holding on to her. Standing at the front door holding on to me with one hand, while the other fumbles with his keys trying to find the house key. I know I shouldn’t laugh but watching her struggle makes me chuckle. 

“Oh you think this is funny do you?” She’s frustrated and I just made it worse

I knew laughing was bad, but I couldn't help it when she was still struggling with the keys. She turned her focus to me, eyes narrow as she glares. She was cute when she was flustered. I press my lips together. Trying to hold back another laugh. It didn’t work as my eyes locked on to her and I snorted and laughed more. Laugh lines forming at the corner of my eyes I knew I was breaking her down and it would be impossible for her to stay mad at me. 

“If I let you go, you're not gonna fall are you?” She asks, her voice something between concern and anger. I just shrug, I probably would fall but she doesn’t need to know the truth 

Annoyed with my answer she sighs. I moved closer to her, she was warm, despite her anger and frustration with me. She was safe. She felt like home. I lean against her still struggling with the door. Finally, after a ten minute fight with the door she gets it opened. We stumble into the dark house. Thankfully getting the door locked on the inside was a much easier battle. 

“Alright Franklin, let’s get you to bed” 

My hallway is definitely not big enough for two people to walk side by side especially when one of the people is drunk. I try to position myself in front of Frankie, both his arms over my shoulders as his chest rests against my back. 

We reach his room and I move him towards his bed. I turn him and help him sit down. His hat had fallen off someone along the journey into his room. I slide off his jacket, turning to hang it in the chair. In slow motion Frankie begins to fall back “no..no…no” I grab his arm just in time keeping him up right on the bed. If he fell backwards I knew trying to undress him would be impossible.  

“Ok arms up” I say, he follows my order and lifts his arms above his head. 

“So bossy” he mumbles as I take the shirt off and toss it towards his dirty laundry pile. 

My hands rest on his broad shoulders. The muscle definition is still very evident in his biceps. I pray he doesn’t notice my eyes wander down his bare chest, briefly holding at his tattoo. I’ve never really looked at it this close. 

His hands reach for the hem of my dress, slowly beginning to lift it higher on my thigh. “You’re turn” he says before I catch his wrists 

“You’re drunk” I say softly and he shrugs

“Didn’t stop some people” 

I’m sure it didn’t, Frankie never had a problem getting girls, but I don’t know thinking about him being with others makes me slightly jealous, I shake my head and let go of his wrists. 

I bend down in front of him, his hands resting on my shoulders as I untie his shoes. He takes the hint and works with me to get his shoes off.  I start to stand up, “what about my pants?” he almost falls forward giggling. Good to know he still thinks this is funny “I don’t like pants” 

I roll my eyes and lean forward reaching for his belt buckle. I undo it and the button to his jeans. He falls back lifting his hips just enough for me to slide them off tossing it with the shirt. “There, are you happy?” 

He shuffles under the sheets, before I can go he grabs my hand “stay?” He asks. I don’t even have to look at him to know the look he’s giving me. Batting his eyes, his bottom lip quivers, using his big brown eyes to his advantage 

“Frankie, I can’t…” I sigh 

“Please?” 

I squeeze her hand, he doesn’t want to be alone. “Just till I fall asleep?” I add 

“Fine, just tell you fall asleep” I watch as she slides off her leather jacket and sets it on the back of my chair. Turning the light off, she shuffled back to me

I slide back, giving her enough room to lay down. I’m on my side, has my arm out. She lays down using my one arm as a pillow and I drape the other over her. She pulls the cover up. My hand resting on her hip. I lean into her resting my forehead against her temple breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. Hints of cherry and strawberry fill my senses. It smells like summer, it smells like home. 

Her hand rubs up and down my forearm in a soothing fashion. I feel so comfortable with her here. It’s where I want to keep her. 

“He’s not good enough for you” I say softly 

“What?” She twists her head to look at me

My eyes open to see hers staring at me, “Your date tonight” 

“You don’t even know him” she sighs 

“No one will be good enough for you Alex” I grip her tighter pulling her closer to me. I lean in closer to her. I want to kiss her, I want her to know how I feel. As much as I don’t think the guy she went out with today isn’t good enough, I know I’m not good enough either. 

She sighs again, turning her head to stare at the ceiling. Her finger tips brush over my skin. My thumb strokes her hip over her black dress. A black dress I wished was on the floor. 

I lift my head, leaning closer. I stick out my tongue and lick the side of her face. From check to temple. When her hands go still on my arm, but don’t move away I smile and lay my head back down. 

Twisting her head to look at me, I watch as she smiles back at me. My smile widens, I know my dimple appears and she shakes her head, “did you just lick me?” 

“I did…” I sigh and close my eyes again. Sleep just on the horizon. I hear her ask me why, “to say your mine. Like when you like something when your a kid you don’t want someone else to have” 

“Frankie” she sighs 

“You’re too good for him” and by him - I really meant myself. 

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

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

[winniethewife]

I will not let you go (Francisco 'Catfish' Morales x reader)

Words: 546

A/n: Inspired entirely By @summonthesoups sharing the Above image. thanks to @romanarose for being a sounding board for this fic.

Whenever they went on walks together Frankie always had to have his hands on her, His arm tight around her waist, his fingers intertwined with hers, his arm slung over her shoulders, as long as he’s touching her he’s satisfied. After they adopt an adorable Mutt puppy that Frankie named Mullido from their local animal shelter their walks become more frequent and Frankie loves every second of it. The leash in one hand and his arm around her waist as Mullido investigates every interesting smelling thing on the path dragging them along. Frankie swears this has probably been one of the best choices he’s made, other than his lady and his daughter of course. 

One sunny day right after they adopted Mullido, Their Daughter spending the day with her grandparents, they had walked with their enthusiastic pup down to the beach to meet the guys, as usual his hand held on to hers tightly as they made their way across the sand.  Benny is the first to notice their approach and calls out running across the beach.

“Hey Guys! Woah! DOG!” He says excited with childlike wonder as he crouches down to let the puppy lick his face and snuffle at his clothes.

"Yeah! This is our dog, Mullido!" Frankie announces with a big smile on his face. She and the Guys are all gathered around the dog as Santiago Steps to the side with Frankie and laughs slightly

"Wait...did you really just name your dog...Fluffy?" Santi asks with a smirk as he looks at him quizzically

“Yep. We thought it would be funny.” Frankie pats his friend on the back and smiles at his girl, who was holding Mullido in her arms as the Miller brothers were enthusiastically fond of the small animal. 

As the sun crossed over the sky they were all tossing a Frisbee back and forth as Mullido chases it between them, like an adorable game of monkey in the middle. Out of breath She sits down to the side and watches as the others play. A smile on her face as she watches them. She grabs a cold drink out of the cooler and takes a drink as she watches. Eventually she was joined by a smiling Francisco and an exhausted puppy.

“You doin’ alright Mi Vida?” He asked as he flopped on the ground next to her.

“Yeah, just taking a break.” She smiles at him.

“You’ve got the right Idea. Mulli is a little pooped too.” Frankie puts his hand on her thigh as he looked at the ball of fluff curled up at their feet.

“Well it’s been a good day to be a dog.” She chuckles

“I’d say.” Frankie laughs, they watch the guys abandon the frizbee to all take up a spot in the circle of beach towels that they had laid out. They all start talking and joking. Will holding Mullido in his lap as they sat together. She smiles as Frankie puts a protective arm around her. This was everything she had ever hoped for. A Happy life with a happy family.

~

Bonus scene

About a month later Frankie get a call. Its Benny.

"Seriously Fish. Fluffy? The dogs name is Fluffy?” “Yes! Did you just figure this out?”

“…Yeah.” They both laugh.

~

Masterlist

[wardenparker]

The Stars Re-Align, part 3

Frankie Morales x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 13.1k Warnings: Reader is given an age and a grown daughter. Cursing, food/alcohol, mentions of military service (obviously), complicated relationships, family drama, mentions of past abusive relationship, mentions of past drug use, miscommunication, revelations, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Summary: Helping Frankie and Luna get set up for the next steps of their life brings them much closer to you and Rachel. And to the possibility of family. Notes: Thank you so much to everyone who left such lovely comments and tags on this story as we went along! We really love a good One That Got Away story and we're so happy that you all do, too. Please enjoy the final installment! 🧡 As always, the gif is for the vibes, *not* a physical representation of the reader.

Half an hour after the call, when Benny knocks on the door of Fish's apartment, it's Pope who answers the door. "You brought a second army," he observes. There's just a touch of sadness in his smile when his eyes fall on you, but only a touch. In some ways, it just proves he made the right decision that you've dropped everything to come here.

“I was having dinner with them.” Benny shuffles into the apartment and looks around. “What’s going on, man?”

"Everybody come in." If he's surprised to see you, Will doesn't show it.

There's a tall woman at his side doing some very studious typing on her phone and you dimly recall Rachel saying Ben's brother has a long-term girlfriend. What catches your attention and holds it is the figure of Frankie Morales cradling a baby in his arms, and the way it wraps around your heart and twists is terrible. It's jealousy, but you have no right to that particular emotion. Not now or ever.

Settled by the bottle, Luna isn’t crying anymore, but Frankie continues to hold her close. Probably using her as a bit of a crutch himself, he can’t bring himself to put her down, even if she’s fallen back asleep.

The apartment is a mess. Things have been thrown around in a deliberate temper tantrum sort of way and it's clear that some frantic behavior has followed that tantrum, causing a bit more of a mess in the process. "Frankie..." For now you swallow down whatever conflicting emotions you have and walk over to him while the others get settled. "Ben said it was an emergency," you explain, as if you're trying to dignify why you came with Ben and Rachel even though you know that's not strictly necessary. "Are you—is she—okay?"

“You— she’s—” he’s practically speechless that you are here, his gaze darting around the destroyed apartment and he’s embarrassed that you are seeing this. “She’s okay…physically.” He murmurs, bouncing her in his arms slightly and feeling a little off kilter. “Uh— Marie, she, uh, she found Rachel’s phone number in my jacket.” He clears his throat. “She left.”

“She left…like…permanently?” You swallow hard around the implications of that, trying to reconcile what Rachel has told you of this woman with the kind of person that would abandon a child. It’s not the same as what happened with you and Frankie. This, in your opinion, is far worse.

“I think so.” While Frankie had just talked about extricating himself from a relationship with Marie, he had never once considered a situation where she would abandon Luna. He looks down at his daughter, and then his eyes find Rachel’s guiltily. As if he were just as equally horrible.

“What happened?” No sooner does Rachel meet his eyes than she’s crossing the apartment, laying one gentle hand on Luna’s back and very nearly reaching to hug him. She doesn’t know if he would even want that, but the way she almost just added Dad to the end of her sentence makes her own heart break.

He doesn’t want to tell her. Finding it too repulsive to even consider, but he owes her the most truth he can give. “She— she thinks that it was something different.” He tells her quietly. “Like I would cheat, or sleep with Ben’s girlfriend.” He doesn’t even bring up how disgusting it is since she is his daughter. “I tried to tell her that you— that we are—” he curses himself and snorts. “I told her you are my daughter and she didn’t believe me.”

Rachel blows out a long breath and centers herself, hands on her hips just like her father when he’s working something out. “Can I be honest?” Rachel asks, standing between her two parents and shaking her head.

“Always.” It’s not like he expects anything else, but he wants her to be able to share her thoughts and feelings.

“Marie is a cunt, Dad.” Rachel doesn’t beat around the bush, but reaches again to rub Luna’s back. “I’m glad she’s gone, if she really is. Because she’s awful and you two deserve so much better.”

The snickers of the guys showcase their complete agreement with her view and Frankie frowns as he looks down at his sleeping daughter again. “I just— I didn’t expect her to call our daughter a crotch goblin.” He admits quietly. “She was happy she was pregnant. Even if I wasn’t thrilled.” It’s a guilty thought, but he hadn’t been overly joyful at the prospect of having a kid.

“Terrible people say terrible things,” Rachel reasons. She leans forward more this time, waving one friendly finger in her baby sister’s face to make her giggle then places a kiss on Luna’s forehead. “Good riddance. And if she ever says another word against this little angel, I’ll punt her across the Gulf.”

“I— you’re right.” He sighs softly, his heart clenching at the sight of his previously unknown daughter being so sweet to Luna. “I knew she was resentful that I left on a…business trip when Luna was a few weeks old, but I never thought she would take it out on her.”

“Having a child doesn’t automatically make you a good parent,” you reason, with your hands sheepishly stuffed in your pockets. “Just like you can be an amazing parent without ever having children of your own. It’s not clean-cut like that. And it sounds like…like she was not going to be in this for the long run. One way or another.”

His eyes meet yours, sad because it feels like you might be making a pointed statement about him. He just nods and sighs again when Luna kicks, looking down at her and rubbing her stomach as he holds her. “Yeah.”

“I just mean…” He looks so fucking sad that your heart breaks all over again, when you meant to be supporting him. “There are plenty of people in your circle who are going to be ready to help you, Frankie. Just because the woman who gave birth to this little girl turned out to be less-than-ideal doesn’t mean she’ll be alone. We’re all here to help.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” He reminds you quietly. “Call it poetic justice.” He doesn’t want you to feel like you have to do anything. Not after what he’s done.

“Don’t be silly.” What happened between the two of you is beside the point, as far as you’re concerned. At least it isn’t relevant right now, so you brush it aside. “It takes a village, right? Well, here we are.”

The differences between you and Marie could not be more evident than at this moment. He swallows harshly and he looks back up at you. “Thanks.”

“Okay.” Santiago’s voice cuts through the tension in the room, and most of the group takes that as a signal to congregate, all moving toward the living room sofa en masse. “So we have some things to figure out, but the ball is rolling. Jess is getting in contact with a lawyer for custody papers, the clean up here will take maybe an hour at most, and from there it’s making sure Fish and Luna are taken care of.”

“I— thanks again.” Frankie mutters, looking incredibly embarrassed by all of this. “I appreciate this and Luna does as well.”

“If it was one of us, you’d be right there in the trenches,” Benny reminds him. He sits down on the edge of the couch and puts an arm around Rachel when she comes to sit beside him, grateful for nothing but kindness from both her and you.

“I have some work I can do remotely for a week or two,” you offer, knowing that handling a baby alone can be difficult even under the best conditions. “And…I can cook.” A thing which was never Frankie’s forte as a teenager.

“I guess that’s— I don’t want to come between you and your life.” His eyes slide over to Santiago, burying his own jealousy because it’s not fair.

“I have the time and the skills.” It isn’t meant to be a rude reminder, but just an honest one. You’re the only person here who has raised a baby thus far. “I’ll take a personal day tomorrow and then work from home for a little while. The office won’t mind, since I’m still in the preliminary stages of my next project.”

“If you’re sure…” Frankie can take care of his daughter. That’s never been a problem. He’s not one that complains about getting up during the night or changing dirty diapers. But he is trying to appeal the loss of his license and needs to be able to attend hearings. It was good that he had preemptively went to rehab and could provide clean tests. Hopefully it would be enough.

“I have a work laptop, a deep knowledge of Disney and children’s music, and the ability to cook enough to leave you leftovers.” For the first time, your hand moves to his arm and you give it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure, Frankie.”

"It won't be for long." He promises. "As soon as I can get my license back, I can afford to get a daycare or a sitter service for Luna." He shrugs slightly. "I can fly again." He's not sure what Santiago has told you, but there's no need to hide anything from you.

“Mom has you covered for a little bit, and Benny and I can help,” Rachel assures him. The deep need to connect to her little sister and be there for her father is strong and already growing.

“And Jess and I will fill in the blanks,” Will promises. Luna will never be without a second set of eyes, Fish. You’ll be able to make your appointments and do everything you need to do.”

Frankie blows out a sigh and he looks around. "Should I move?" He asks quietly. "In case she comes back? Or stay here and if she does come back, we address it then?"

“Move in with us.” Rachel blurts out, unapologetic in her honesty and immediately stubborn on the point as soon as the thought occurs to her. “We have the space, and Marie wouldn’t know how to find you.”

Frankie's eyes widen at the offer and his heart leaps at the idea but his gaze darts over to you. "Rachel, sweetheart...I couldn't possibly do that." He shakes his head when your own shocked face mirrors his. You don't want that and he won't make your life harder.

“Guys, will you give us a minute?” This is not a conversation that you want spectators for, and it only takes a second of hesitation for Will and Jess to stand.

“Let’s start picking up.” Will suggests, casting meaningful looks at Santiago and Benny. This isn’t their conversation. Especially not Pope’s anymore.

Frankie shuffles slightly, biting his lip and wishing that he didn't have to hear the scolding that Rachel was in for. He knows that she only has good intentions, but it's not the same as offering up a place to live for him and a child he fathered by another woman.

“Do you feel unsafe here?” You ask Frankie, wanting an honest answer rather than the one he feels he ought to give. Men have a hard time speaking up in abusive situations for a hell of a lot of reasons and you’re not about to add to his stress. “Like if Marie came back, she might hurt you or the baby?”

"She wouldn't hurt me." Frankie assures you. "But...I don't— I might hurt her." He admits softly. "If she tries to hurt Luna. I'll talk to the property management. Have the locks changed."

“Is there any possibility she would actually try to hurt Luna?” This sweet little baby did nothing wrong, and the part of you that missed out on getting to see Frankie hold your little girl is both savoring and jealous of this moment of his protection.

"If she's high?" Frankie wouldn't want to believe it, but he can't be sure. "I don't know. She's angry at me and she knows that I would die for Luna."

“If she’s—” That is going to have to be a conversation for another time, but you nod your head once and look at Rachel. Your steadfast, loyal-to-a-fault daughter is looking at you so expectantly that you can’t even hold her gaze, and end up looking back at Frankie. “We have a guest room and a safe neighborhood. Our HOA is a pain in the ass but if they know a vehicle isn’t supposed to be in the neighborhood they will have a tow truck in the street before she even gets out of her car.”

"Gatita..." he closes his eyes and relaxes slightly when he feels Rachel take the baby from him. Opening his eyes again, he knows that it's the right choice. "We won't be there long." He promises after a moment.

"You'll be there for as long as you need to be." Will it be awkward, maneuvering around each other? Sure. But this isn't about your comfort level. This is about his safety and the safety of his baby.

******

Your home is surprisingly easy to settle into, but Frankie tries to give you and Rachel space. Finding some of the run ins a little awkward in that ‘navigating new roommates’ waters. Right now though, it’s three in the morning and Luna has woken up hungry. Leaving a sleepy-eyed Dad to shuffle into the kitchen in a pair of sleep pants and a little girl bouncing against his bare shoulder as he mixes up a bottle.

There’s a light on in the kitchen when you come down the stairs, bleary-eyed and dealing with a stupid amount of heartburn from that second helping of chili you shouldn’t have had at dinner. You can hear him before you see him — the gentle shushing of a parent soothing an infant — and you knock gently on the archway to the kitchen before stepping inside. “Sorry to interrupt,” you murmur quietly, not wanting to scare Luna.

“Hey, sorry.” Frankie winces slightly, sure that he’s woken you up. “Baby girl needed a bottle. We’ll be settled down and quiet soon.”

“Don’t worry about it.” When you move toward the fridge too, you almost laugh at the irony. “I came down for milk, too. Heartburn is a bitch.”

He winces sympathetically and nods. “Remember when we were young? Heartburn was something our parents made up.” He snorts, aware that he’s had to change his diet as he’s gotten older.

“I’d give anything to be able to eat the way we did back then.” The carton of milk comes out onto the counter and so does a glass, but you’re self-conscious of giving Frankie enough space so you stay tucked in the corner. “Can I ask…” You shift slightly in place. “How are you adjusting?”

“Day to day, at night, it’s not a lot of difference.” Frankie admits. You have helped him tremendously during the day, but he insists on taking care of Luna himself when he gets back. “I always took care of the baby when I got home.” He tells you. “She needed a break and I didn’t mind.”

“Is there anything you need picked up? Changed?” It’s not your place to remark on his ex-girlfriend’s parenting, or seeming lack thereof, but you have noticed that the only people who contact him are his lawyer and his friends. The guys have been quite active actually, either helping him move the last of his things from the apartment into storage, helping with Luna, or helping him get things organized for his hearings.

“I don’t think so.” He is so grateful to you for everything. “I am planning on cutting the grass tomorrow.” He tells you. “So don’t worry about that.”

“I’m assuming it won’t make a difference if I tell you that you don’t need to do chores?” The Frankie of your past was a stubborn guy, and a nostalgic smile curls your lips.

“No.” Frankie frowns and looks over at you with dark eyes. “You are letting me stay, watching my child and you won’t take my money.” He huffs, slightly offended at the handout. “I can help around here.”

“Just don’t overextend yourself. Your appointments are more important than the lawn.” It’s nice that he wants to help, and you’re not going to stop him, but you don’t want Frankie to get himself behind because he gets obsessed with helping.

“I know.” Frankie nods. “I don’t have an appointment tomorrow. And the lawyers said that it looks promising.” He tells you.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Your own glass of milk is cold and soothing, and you pour a second for good measure. “I was planning on working from home again tomorrow. I hope that won’t bother you too much.”

“Gatita, this is your house.” Frankie reminds you. “You are free to do whatever you want.” He snorts. “If you wanted to walk around naked, I would just have to try to not stare.” He’s tired and he’s been dreaming about you after spending so much time with you. He didn’t mean to say that, but it popped out.

The burning in your cheeks is immediate, that combination of embarrassment and rekindled desire making you quickly look away so he won’t see how much you love hearing him call you Gatita again, or how much you actually want him to mean it when he says things like that to you. It had been deep in your head that the love you still have for Frankie would bubble to the surface with him in your house, but you didn’t know quite how bad it was going to be. “Well…I would say you’ve always been a gentleman, but we were teenagers together. The parts of us that are good at restraint now didn’t really exist back then.”

“No need to be a gentleman when I had you.” Frankie murmurs softly, twisting the cap back on the bottle and shaking it up as Luna grunts against his shoulder. She’s not crying right now, but she will be if she doesn’t get her bottle. “Only had to restrain myself around our parents.”

“Something neither of us was terribly good at,” you admit with a snort. “At least they never actually caught us having sex. That would have been mortifying.”

“Dad did.” Frankie admits, sending you a sheepish grin. “Senior year. He opened the door slightly and immediately closed it. I saw him in the mirror.”

“Oh my god.” You almost drop your glass, fumbling to get it on the counter with little enough noise to not agitate the baby and stifle your laughter at the same time. “Seriously? I am so glad you never told me that.”

He laughs quietly and nods. “We had sworn to never speak of it. And I hadn’t, until now.”

“I never would have been able to look him in the eye again.” Unfortunately, Frankie’s father had passed years ago — your own parents had sent you the obituary. “I sent flowers to the funeral home when he passed,” you admit quietly. “No card or anything, but…it was too little too late. I know that.”

Frankie closes his eyes and sighs softly. “Thank you.” He murmurs softly. “He loved you and he told me that I was the biggest goddamn fool for breaking up with you.”

“We were kids.” It’s not a good reason but it’s still a reason, and you’re not willing to rehash your breakup at 3am over milk with his infant.

“Yeah.” He can see that you are building walls against the conversation. He turns Luna over and pops the bottle into her mouth. “Well…I better let you get back to bed.” He murmurs. “Goodnight.”

“I—” The feeling of being dismissed from your own kitchen is uncomfortable at best, and you frown before setting your glass in the dishwasher and simply stepping away. “Sorry to have disturbed you. Goodnight.”

Frankie frowns as he watches you leave and he hates how it seems like you’ve taken three steps back. Sighing softly, he looks down at Luna staring up at him. “What?” He asks her softly. “I didn’t do anything.”

******

By the next morning, you’ve resolved to apologize. Being short with him was unnecessary and doesn’t exactly make things easier for anyone. Not to mention, Frankie is having a hard enough time as it is without you getting mopey that he hasn’t just sat down beside you on the couch and snuggled you into his side like you want him to.

Getting up early, you head back downstairs and start making up a big pan of French toast and another whole tray of bacon. Sure there’s only three of you, but baking breakfast will give you time to make some fresh baby food for Luna, something you had loved doing for Rachel as well.

Frankie wakes up to the sounds of stirring in the kitchen. Groaning quietly at the aches and pains of his older self. Getting older sucks and it’s compounded by the abuse he put his body through when he was in the Army. Glancing at the clock, he sighs and sits up, grabbing his shirt. He will need to get started on the lawn before Luna wakes up.

The coffee pot has just finished bubbling when he gets downstairs, the rich, black brew piping hot and mixing with the other smells in the kitchen to be nothing short of enticing. Coffee, cinnamon, vanilla, bacon, and apples all mix together in the early morning like a welcoming curtain of comfort.

“Smells good.” Frankie shoves his hat on his head. “Baby’s still asleep. Thought I would get started on the grass.”

"Okay." Even though you nod, you gesture slightly at the baby monitor in his hand. "Do you want to leave that with me? I can get her changed and fed while breakfast cooks. She's got fresh apple and sweet potato puree for this morning."

“You’re too good to us—her.” Frankie huffs, shooting you a small smile. “After I get done, I’ll take her right back. I promise.”

"Frankie..." Your palms sweat and you hate yourself for being so affected by him still, but here you are. So deeply affected that you feel like you're fifteen all over again. "I wanted to apologize. For last night."

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Frankie shakes his head. “I was…out of line.”

"I shouldn't have been dismissive, or snapped at you. It's not out of line to want to talk about our past." Exhaling softly, you lean back against the counter and bite your bottom lip as you debate how much is really wise to say. "It's just bringing up a lot of old emotions and I wasn't prepared to work through them thoroughly at three in the morning."

“Yeah,” Frankie shuffles slightly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He hums quietly. “I know that it’s hard. I should have just kept quiet.”

"No." You shake your head and take a step back toward him instead of shrinking away again. "No, that's...keeping quiet and hiding things from each other is how I got us into this mess. I don't want to perpetuate that anymore."

Frankie sighs. “No, me being a fucking asshole is what got us into the mess of you raising a kid by yourself.” He tells you.

"I should have just told you." Twenty-four years of hindsight is twenty-twenty. "If I hadn't been so scared, it would have worked out eventually."

“And I should have come back.” Frankie snorts. “I should have found you. Begged you to take me back.” He puts his hands on his hips. “There’s a million things I shouldn’t have done, or should have.”

"I should have figured out how to write to you at boot camp. Or found your parents after they moved. Anything." Your arms cross over your chest in some kind of unconscious half-mirroring of him, but you end up swallowing a sigh. "Rachel does that, you know. Her hands on her hips, like you do. There's so much of you in her and I'm so sorry that you missed some of it."

Those words make him close his eyes. Absorbing them and trying not to let them hurt as bad as they do. “I just don’t want to miss any more.”

"I don't want you to, either." It's a small admission. Also too little, too late. But at least it's honest. "And neither does she."

“I know you don’t – this isn’t ideal.” Frankie admits. “You don’t really want me here. And I just don’t want to overstep.”

"Why do you think I don't want you here?" Can you guess at plenty of reasons? Of course. But you're curious to know why he assumes you would have invited him into your home if you didn't want him here at all.

“Who wants their ex in their house?” Frankie snorts. “I’ve cost you your relationship, made you a babysitter and make you uncomfortable by bringing up a past I can’t forget.” He practically whispers the last part, almost ashamed of it.

Something about the whole scenario just makes you crack in your chest and you almost cave in on yourself, letting the words out before you can stop yourself. Six simple words, but with so much meaning. "I don't care. I miss you."

Frankie bites his lip, curling his hands into his hips to keep from reaching for you. “You miss who I was.” He reminds you. “I’ve become a very different one.”

"So have I." You weren't expecting rejection to sting as much as it does, even though you don't even know that you actually offered enough for him to reject. It still makes you want to cry, though, in a very vulnerable and surprised sort of way. "That doesn't mean we aren't still who we are at the core."

“I’ve…done things.” Frankie admits. “Bad things. Things that would make you curl away from me in disgust.”

"Nobody's pure." But you shuffle a little where you're standing and look up again, actually looking him in the eyes. "Santiago told me about South America. Everything. So I'm not as much of a wilting flower as you might think."

“Never said you were.” He knows you are strong, capable. You raised Rachel by yourself and all the struggles that it entailed.

"I'm not trying to force anything." Though if it happened, you would absolutely not be opposed to it. You've realized that in the three days since Frankie and Luna moved into your house. "I'm just saying, if I didn't want you here, or I didn't want to know who you are now...then you wouldn't be here at all. I just wouldn't have offered, regardless of anything Rachel said."

“Maybe you shouldn’t have offered.” Frankie snorts. “Fuck knows you wouldn’t have if you know what I think about around you.” He’s just determined to beat himself up, still depressed and trying to self-sabotage without the use of coke.

That just makes you scoff, shoving your hands in your pockets weakly because what you really want to do is cross the kitchen tiles and just throw your arms around him like you always used to. "I fully expect you to hate me. I'm not going to make you leave my house just because you rightfully dislike your ex for keeping your daughter from you."

He stares at you for a moment before he laughs. “You think I hate you?” He demands roughly. “Hate doesn’t have me dreaming about seeing if I could beat the goddamn record I set when we were seventeen.” He hisses. “Hate doesn’t have me waking up in the middle of the night with my hand around my cock because you still smell the same and those sheets smell like you. Hate isn’t something I want to do to you, gatita.”

For about three full seconds, all you can do is stand there and stare at him. It's like your mind had shut down trying to comprehend what he is saying to you and is only slowly booting back up like an ancient computer. A small squeak escapes you and all the air goes out of your chest just before water pricks at your eyes, and all of a sudden you're moving straight across the kitchen to kiss him before you can even process what you're doing.

Frankie had fully expected a hand across his cheek, so when you launch yourself at him, he’s shocked. Groaning against your lips for a split second before he’s wrapping his arms around you, one hand cradling your head to keep you close. To keep you kissing him.

He's thicker than he was as a gangly teenager. Age has given him muscles and then softened them again, making him pliant under your touch just as much as you are under his. The powerful magnet of attraction between you leaves no room for questioning in the moment. You're just two people clinging desperately to each other and to hope, and the first slide of your tongue against his when your lips part to deepen the kiss is like coming home. A very specific, very teenage home – but this is still where your heart lives.

Frankie groans, finding it to be his turn to move. Turning and pressing you against the counter as he drowns in this kiss. It feels so right, despite the mistakes that he has made, the sins he has committed, he tastes nothing but the overwhelming sense of rightness in your lips.

He had dipped down to find the perfect angle to capture your soft moan when it crossed your lips, but now Frankie straightens again. Breaking your head so it won’t hit the cabinets, his other hand pulls you close at the waist — expanded, soft from carrying and birthing a baby and simply being alive for more than forty years — as your hands wander his body to recommit every plane of him to memory. There’s a beautiful rosy nostalgia over the kiss even with the nearly feral need each of you feels, and something drastic might have happened if not for the soft cry of surprise that emanates from the half-light of the living room.

Pulling back in surprise, Frankie’s eyes widen when he sees Rachel standing there. “Uh, I—” he glances at you, unsure of what to say at this point.

“Rach, why don’t you go check on your sister?” You suggest, feeling the reason that Frankie might need a couple of minutes to calm down throb and jump against your hip. Not that your restraint is much better. You’re going to need to change your panties just from being kissed.

“Uh, sure, I can do that.” She nods dramatically, whirling around. “Then I—I’m going to go over to Ben’s. All day. I’ll text when I come back.”

“Breakfast in five minutes!” You call after her, not sure if she’s actually heard you or not as her footsteps ascend the stairs all over again. She’s gone again in a flash and you bite your lip when your eyes track back to Frankie, no guilt or embarrassment in your expression, only a little bit of sheepishness at being caught.

“Well, I think that embarrassed her.” Frankie comments as he looks over to you. He doesn’t know exactly what you are thinking, but it’s not regret on your face. That makes a ghost of a smile curl up the edges of his mouth.

“Don’t let her fool you.” The warmth in your cheeks is only matched by the warmth in the rest of you, waves of it crawling under your skin with how close he is. “She thinks I don’t know that she’s wanted her parents back together since she was five years old.”

“She didn’t know me.” Frankie frowns slightly and hopes this isn’t just some kind of wish fulfillment.

“I used to tell her more.” You admit, though you’re not sure if that’s good or bad. It’s selfish, but it was also survival. “I stopped when she got old enough to realize that…” Blowing out a breath, your eyes drop down from his. He probably does not want to hear this, despite kissing you back just now. “That I’ve still always had feelings for you.”

“You— you still wanted to be with me?” He’s surprised that you would, given how he had left. “Baby….its— I’ve always regretted leaving you. I called you.” He reveals. “Several times….but I never could say anything.”

“You called?” Your eyebrows raise back all the way up your forehead, eyes watery with hopeful tears that you refuse to shed and ruin the moment. “Oh no…” A gasp leaves you, almost washing out the sounds of Rachel and Luna cooing and giggling at each other over the baby monitor. “You called…in the two years after you left for the Army?”

“Yeah.” Frankie chokes out, looking away and feeling ashamed that he hadn’t been able to fucking say a word when he had called your house. “After I got out of bootcamp. I would fucking dial your number at least twice a week. Every time, someone would pick up and I couldn’t say a word. Didn’t have the words I wanted to say.”

“And then…after a while…the number stopped working?” You guess, biting back a sigh of regret.

“Yeah.” He frowns and tilts his head. “How did you—”

“Because my parents got their phone number changed after we had so many hangups in such a short amount of time,” you explain, now feeling guilty for what had happened. “They thought it was some criminal or stalker or something. We moved about a year later anyway.”

“Fuck.” Frankie hisses, closing his eyes and berating himself for his fucking stupidity. “I just— I choked every time I tried to ask for you. In fucking Delta training and I couldn’t fucking apologize.”

“No use in being upset about it now…” Those days are twenty years past. A lifetime ago and then some. And you’re stuck in the here and now with your hand still flexing at his hip. “We should…talk, though. Rach is going to have a million questions.”

“Of course.” He nods and slides his hands over his lounging pants. “What— you start.”

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it… You tell yourself sternly, eyes flickering down to where his large hands stretch dangerously to other, equally interesting parts of him. “We both just…we were seeing other people. Until literally a few days ago.” If you don’t remind yourselves of that you feel like you’ll burst. “But…I miss you. And I do still have feelings for you. And…and if you’re open to it, when you’re ready, I think finding out how we could be together as adults is— well, it’s a long time coming, would you say?”

That….is not what he expected you to say. He had expected to hear something about taking it slow or perhaps it should be kept quiet, but not that. “I’ve never stopped having feelings for you.” Frankie promises you softly. “And I— I’ve missed you every goddamn day.”

“I’m not going to push you for anything. Not quickly, not ever.” Whatever he wants to have with you, you want it to be freely given just like you intend to give freely. “I kind of…really love seeing you in my house like this…”

He looks down at his clothes, like that might explain what you are talking about. “Rumpled?” He jokes quietly.

“That’s one word for it,” You admit, grinning softly. “I was thinking sexy, though.”

“If tired, ex-military dad is sexy, I guess I’m it.” Frankie smirks.

“It is.” You can’t help but laugh a little. “Definitely.”

He steps closer to you again. “Well, do you want to drool over this tired dad mowing the grass?” He teases. “I’ll even do it shirtless.”

“Eat breakfast with us first.” That is something you’ll insist on, especially since the timer is about to go off on the oven in about twenty seconds. “And then I’ll sit and gawk at the dining room table afterward.”

Frankie snorts but agrees with a nod. “It smells amazing. You are a great cook.”

“You always liked breakfast, so I took a shot that you would like Rachel’s favorite baked French toast.” You’re going to need to open the oven in just a few seconds, but the last thing you want to do is pull away from the heat of him. “I swear I can do more than just casseroles now.”

He chuckles quietly. “Better than me. Although I need to learn. Luna deserves to have a parent who can feed her more than frozen dinners.” You also deserve to have some of the burden lifted off of you, but that’s another conversation.

“I’ll teach you if you want?” There were a couple of family recipes his mother taught you when you were teenagers that Rachel loves, and plenty of other things of course. But when the timer goes off and you’re forced to step away reluctantly, you add: “And I bet Rachel would, too. She’s pretty damn good in her own right. It might be something you can do together.”

“Maybe we can all do it?” Frankie asks hopefully. Wanting to spend time with both of you. “Between the two of you, I might have a fighting chance.”

“Absolutely.” You’re about willing to promise him anything he wants right now, but first it’s just about taking the pans out of the oven and stifling the need to steal one more kiss when you hear Rachel descend the stairs with a happily babbling Luna in her arms.

“Good.” Frankie makes sure you aren’t holding a pan when he swoops in again. Planting a quick, hard kiss on your lips. “Later.” He whispers, much like he had promised so many years ago when you were about to be interrupted.

It’s good that the girls make plenty of noise coming downstairs so no one else can hear the more-than-slightly-pitiful whimper that Frankie pulls out of you, but you snap back into reality well enough to clamp your mouth shut and motion for him to grab plates from the cupboard without imploding.

“Everyone decent?” Rachel calls out before her head pokes around the door. “There’s a small child present!”

“We were never not decent,” you point out, waving your daughter into the room. “Do you want to get your sister’s cup of food or help your dad set the table?” It’s possibly the most domestic sentence you’ve said…maybe ever, and it rolls through you like summer sunrise.

“Whatever you need me to do.” Her grin is wide and proudly embarrassed as she eyes both of you. “Soooooooooooo. Mom.” She tilts her head towards you with a glint in her eyes. “Do we need to have the safe sex talk, young lady?”

“Your very existence is proof that it’s too late for that,” you remind her, but a smirk forms in the corner of your mouth either way. “Let’s all sit down to eat and we can talk a little. Okay?”

“Seriously though.” Rachel turns towards her dad. “You hurt my mom, and I’ll sic Ben on you.” She warns playfully.

“Sweet pea, get your sister settled and we’ll all talk,” you insist, biting your lip a little at the idea of anything going wrong again. You don’t like it and you don’t even want to process it right now.

“Okay.” It’s more you using ‘sweet pea’ instead of anything else that makes her nod and move to get Luna settled in her high chair. You are upset about something, or avoiding it and she wonders what it is.

It takes a few minutes to get everyone settled and served, but you manage it pretty well and Frankie gets Luna fed before digging in for himself.

“So….” Frankie takes a bite, groaning and rolling his eyes happily at the taste of the casserole. “This is good.” He moans. “Like the best damn thing I’ve ever eaten.” He might have been about to start this talk, but now he’s distracted by the breakfast.

"Iknowright?" Rachel mumbles all at once, thrilled to see her favorite breakfast materialize on the table without asking for it.

“So good.” He forks up another bite before reaching for the syrup again to add more to the French toast bake.

"At least I know I can subdue you both with French toast if you get out of hand," you tease, looking between father and daughter at the table and snorting a laugh.

Both of them look up at you at the same time, forks halfway to their mouths, with the exact same disgruntled expression on their faces.

"Goddamn I wish you could see yourselves right now." It isn't that you didn't know Rachel was like her father. You had known that for her whole life. But seeing them side by side throws it into sharp relief. "Look at these two," you coo to Luna, reaching over to tickle the baby's soft and chubby belly in that way that makes her giggle. "They're exactly the same, aren't they sweetheart?"

It’s fucking amazing, how you are with Luna. Frankie had always felt like Marie wasn’t as maternal or soft as he thought she should be, but then immediately felt guilty for thinking that way. He’s just happy that you are obviously thrilled to have a baby in the house. “We have some similar traits?” He asks, looking over at Rachel.

"Apparently a lot." Rachel shrugs, not knowing she does it in the same way as her father and always has. "According to Mom, Ben should have picked up a vibe really fast."

"I think it just made him subconsciously more comfortable with you," you clarify, forking up another bite of your own breakfast. "Which is a good thing. I'm not saying he should have been confused by it or anything."

Frankie chuckles lightly and reaches over to pick up another spoonful of the puréed apples and sweet potato to feed to Luna. “He would have just thought you were weird.” He jokes.

"To be fair, he does think I'm weird," Rachel clarifies. Her coffee is getting low and she stretches to grab the pot for a refill. "But he likes that about me."

He snorts and nods, holding up his cup when she offers to refresh his. “Ben’s weird himself, so that checks out.”

"Weird is better." You've always thought so. Even used to say so when you were younger. "It's more interesting."

“You used to say I was your perfect kind of weird.” Frankie blurts out, remembering when you would lovingly coo it to him. He would always roll his eyes, but he enjoyed it.

"You were." The reminder – the fact that he even remembers you saying that – warms through you and your face burns bashfully. "Probably still are, if we're honest."

“I think that makes you even weirder.” Frankie snorts, shooting you a playful look. “Because….look at me.”

"I'm not exactly the world's most exciting person, Frankie." You aim a shrug in his direction, doctoring your refilled mug of coffee. "It took me a long time, but for the most part I'm happy with where I am in life. That doesn't make me too interesting, though."

“No, nothing is interesting about a strong, beautiful, capable woman who has raised an equally beautiful daughter by herself, made a comfortable life for her and still maintained the sweetness of youth.” Frankie narrows his eyes slightly, hating how you put yourself down.

"And she has a super fucking cool job, too." Rachel pipes up, obviously ready to back her father up on this one. "Working for the Mouse means we get to go to the parks for free. Luna's going to love it just like I did."

“Just because you went, doesn’t mean Luna will get tickets too, sweetheart.” Frankie reminds her.

“Of course we’ll go.” The idea that Frankie doesn’t think you’d treat his baby daughter well hits you somewhere deep in your chest and you work not to frown. “Unless you don’t want to go? Then we’ll just have a girl’s day.”

“It’s not—” he’s offended you, something that he wasn’t trying to do and he shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way you took it. I just— I never assume anything.” He tells you. “Just because you have tickets doesn’t mean you owe them us, that’s all.”

“It isn’t that I owe it to you.” Reaching across the space at the table in front of Luna’s highchair, you squeeze his hand gently. “But Rach is right, even if she didn’t exactly mean to point it out. We’re a family.”

Frankie looks over at Luna and smiles softly, the baby is shoving her fingers in her mouth and cooing happily. “You ever want more kids?” He asks.

"All the time." You don't mind answering that honestly, but you shrug your shoulders and pick up a piece of bacon from your plate. "I don't relish being referred to as a geriatric pregnancy, though."

“You aren’t geriatric.” Frankie frowns and shakes his head. “Hell— I mean…I thought this was my first go round, but I missed the first.” He hates it, but he reaches over and takes Rachel’s hand with his other. Holding both of your hands.

"Geriatric pregnancies are anyone giving birth over the age of thirty-five." Rachel clarifies for her father, fully putting aside her fork to hold his hand with both of hers. "Mom just doesn't want to feel old. Even though she says I'm the thing that made her old." The last thought comes with a teasing grin thrown your way.

“Hell, I feel ancient knowing I have a grown ass daughter.” Frankie snorts, shaking his head. “I know she feels the same way, considering she had to carry you.”

Your own half-laugh sounds when you swing your head over to look at him. "You make big babies, Morales."

He chuckles and shrugs slightly. “That might be why Marie was never happy after Luna.” He jokes. “She was nearly eleven pounds, believe it or not.”

Rachel snorts, forkful of food halfway to her mouth, and grins. "Twins. I was eleven pounds, too. Eleven pounds and...twenty inches?" She looks to you when she can't remember.

"Twenty-one." It probably shouldn't, but it makes you laugh at this point. The horror over how big she was at birth is long over with. "The nurse asked me if the father was a giant."

“Definitely not a giant.” Frankie huffs, knowing that he’s shorter and weighs less than Rachel’s boyfriend. But he can still kick his ass.

"To answer your question..." The three of you go back to eating, finishing up your plates with satisfaction. "I absolutely think about having more kids all the time. That's why I love babysitting so much."

“Yeah….” It’s definitely helped him. He had spent so much time worrying about his home life that he couldn’t properly square things away. He owes you a lot. “You’re great with her.”

"If I ever overstep, you just need to tell me." It's been a lot of years since you took care of your own infant. Parenting advice has definitely changed. And as much as you might dream about having another kid, Luna is not your baby. She's Frankie's and that means he has the last word on decisions for her.

“I doubt you could overstep.” He argues but he nods when you just stare at him. “But I will let you know.”

"So..." When the last bite is off her plate, Rachel sits back in her chair with her coffee mug in both hands. "I'm going to go to Ben's..." she repeats her thought from earlier with both eyebrows raised. "All day. Probably for two days...you guys...gonna do anything special?"

Frankie cuts his eyes over to Rachel, knowing exactly what she’s going to be doing thanks to Ben’s fat fucking mouth before he knew she was his daughter. “Talking.” He grunts. “Cutting the grass. Cleaning my guns.”

"Dad..." Since she broke the ice on using that title, Rachel has embraced it. "No guns on Ben."

“No promises.” Frankie huffs. “Fucker deserves it.” He shrugs his shoulders when she squawks at him. “What? I won’t hit anything vital!”

"Sorry, Rach." You snicker softly, under your breath. "This is part of having a Dad."

“I don’t think I like this part.” Rachel rolls her eyes playfully and Frankie rolls his right back.

“Yeah, will I don’t like knowing how my daughter gives a blowjob. So we’re even.”

"Okey dokey." Instantly shooting up from the table, you focus entirely on picking up Luna without looking at Rachel or Frankie. "Gonna take the baby into the living room. I'll clean up later."

“Sorry.” Frankie apologizes as you whisk out of the room like your pants are on fire. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

"She'll get over it." Rachel does smile though, a small and embarrassed expression on her face. "Ben feels like an asshole for talking the way he did, for the record. He apologized to me, too. Even though I don't really care."

“We’ve all talked that way before.” Frankie can admit that. The only reason it became a problem is because of who she is to him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t care. “But it’s good he apologized. He really loves you.”

"And I really love him." She promises, absolutely serious. "As his friend, I hope you know that."

“Even as your dad.” It’s a title that always makes him smile when either one of them uses it. “I want you to be with someone who loves you. That’s all I want. He’s a good man.”

"I know it's new..." she sips her coffee as they sit together. "But do you mind that I've started using that name?"

“No.” That’s something he would never mind. “Not at all, I’m….glad you feel comfortable calling me ‘Dad’.” He admits with a small smile. “Just hope that one day that you’re proud that I am your dad.”

"I am proud." Even when he was just her boyfriend's friend, she had always liked Frankie a lot. He's a good guy who doesn't give himself nearly enough credit. "I'm proud of Mom and I'm proud of you, too."

“That…that’s great.” He nods, enjoying the conversation and feeling proud of the fact that she is happy to know him.

"I'm going to clean up and go to Ben's." Pushing back from the table and standing, Rachel puts one hand out to squeeze his shoulder and starts to pick up dishes and stack them in her arms. "Whatever you and Mom end up talking about...just know how much she loves you. My whole life she's never looked at another guy the way she looks at you. I know you mean the world to her."

“You have no reason to really believe me, because of me being gone from your life the entire time you were growing up, but I don’t want to hurt her. Ever again.” Frankie promises. “I think we deserve to be happy.”

"I think so, too." Rachel agrees, but instead of letting the moment get too serious, she throws her father a grin and nods toward the backyard. "So go mow the lawn so she can have a good ogle. I'll clean up from breakfast before I go."

Frankie snorts, aware that her knowledge of that meant she had been eavesdropping, but he doesn’t mind it. “Thanks,” he tosses her his own grin and pushes back from the table to at least clear his plate. “Plus, it’ll be good for her not to have to do the grass.”

******

“I don’t think you will be less than a mama to her.” He hums as he transfers the baby into your arms. “She will only know you as her mother, especially the way you already love her.”

“Sounds like you’re planning on staying.” And while it’s just an observation, your heart leaps up into your throat so you have to swallow it back done just to breathe.

“If that’s what we decide.” He won’t push his way in. Luna yawns and leans her head against your shoulder in a move that makes him smile. “We can talk about it later. She’s sleepy and I need a shower.”

“I’ll put her down for her nap. You go clean up, love.” Honestly? You dread the thought of Frankie leaving again. Even having him leave to go to work will have you in a state of anxiety for a while, even if you’re doing your best to hold it together for the girls’ sakes. Luna needs a steady caregiver and Rachel absolutely does not need to see you anxious or worrying over her father.

“Come talk to me after you get her down?” He asks, knowing it won’t take him long to shower. He would probably be dressed by the time you get her down.

“Absolutely.” Not having to talk over the baby’s head is a good place to start, if nothing else. You lean in when he moves to kiss your cheek again and then part, with Frankie heading to the bathroom and you heading into what is now Luna’s nursery.

Frankie has been trained by the military. He was never an untidy person to start, but an entire career in the Army had taught him how to clean and be efficient in showering. He does take a little more time today, trimming his beard and shaving, wanting to clean up a little more for you.

As predicted, by the time you get Luna settled down for her nap, you hear the shower shut off down the hall. A small stop off in your own room might just be to check your hair and that you haven’t had a bit of bacon stuck in your teeth all morning. Once you’ve decided he’s had enough time to dress and you can’t stall anymore, you grab the baby monitor and go down the hall to knock on his door.

Because of the shaving, Frankie is still wrapped in a towel, secured at his waist. Still, he doesn’t hesitate. “Come in.”

"Luna's down for her uh— her, her nap," you report, only barely stammering when you see Frankie standing by the bed and sighing inwardly at the way your mouth runs dry.

“Good.” He doesn’t smirk, although he wants to. You alternate between staring and looking away in embarrassment.

"It's gonna be hard to talk if I can't look you in the eye." Which is stupid, because it's not like he wasn't the first person in the world you were naked with – but here you are flustered like a teenager all over again.

“Does it bother you?” Frankie asks, looking down. “That I’m not dressed? You knocked on my door.”

"It doesn't bother me." But you do feel the need to clarify, for the sake of the situation. "It's just very distracting."

“Distracting, huh?” Frankie was never more confident than he was with you and since being here, that has started to come back. “Wonder why that is.”

"Because you're handsome, Francisco," you huff, fully amused, and roll your eyes at him for effect.

“And you’re gorgeous, gatita.” He murmurs.

"We should probably have that talk." Instinctively, shutting the door comes with stepping inside, even though it isn't necessary. Maybe it's a leftover reflex from seeking privacy in the apartments where you grew up.

“Okay.” Frankie moves over to the dresser to grab a pair of sweats to slide on under the towel so you won’t be uncomfortable.

"You want to go first?" The only place in the room to sit is on the guest bed, and you perch on the end with your hands under your thighs and nerves jittering out of control.

“You look like you need get things off your chest.” Frankie hums. “You can go first.”

"I'm just...trying to think about what comes next." Your fingers twist in the blanket, making you look even more nervous than you feel. "I make plenty enough to support this family while you get things cleared up with your license. This is a stable home for Luna with actual family to help look after her. "If what you want is to be back together, we're in a very good position to make it work."

“I have my retirement.” Frankie reminds you. “I don’t expect you to support us. I want to take care of you too.” He never wants to take advantage of you. He wants to give you more than he ever takes.

"Do you actually still enjoy flying? Is it something you want to get back to? Or is it what you were doing because you were made to?" It's a fair question, and one you don't ask easily. But you get the feeling that before this, Frankie didn't get a lot of options.

“I love it.” Frankie admits. “I’m fucking good at it, completely in love with it. Why?”

"I wasn't sure if Marie had given you a chance to actually choose what you love to do, instead of just what would make money," you admit. "I was going to offer that you could take your time. Pursue whatever you wanted to, or even be a stay at home Dad for a while if that's something that interests you. I just..." One hand sneaks out from under your thigh and reaches for him as you sit on the bed. "I want you to be happy, baby. Truly happy."

“I—” Frankie’s never thought about being a stay at home dad. “I volunteered for flight school. Being in the air, flying, it’s like second nature to me now.” He tells you, kneeling down in front of you. “But…I wouldn’t mind staying home with Luna.” He admits. “I would be happy with that for a bit. I could fly part time. Spend most of it with her, still get my thrills from flying.”

"I don't want you to do what you feel you have to." That point can't have enough emphasis for you. It really is the backbone of everything you want for his future – that it is a future he chooses for himself out of passion and excitement. "If flying is what you want to do, then find the job that makes you the most excited. That lets you balance and be happy and not run yourself into the ground like I know you've been doing because you're still the same Frankie that I fell in love with when we were just kids."

“What I have to do is to be a good example to Luna, to Rachel.” He tells you. “To give them everything I can and make you happy too.”

"And I have every faith that you'll do that." Just once, you lost your faith in Frankie Morales because of fear. You're not going to let it happen again, when you're finally in a position for both of you to really have everything you've ever wanted.

“Can I kiss you again?” Frankie asks, looking into your eyes.

It's like feeling a light switch flip somewhere in your body, and you light up all over. Including your brightest smile. "I really want you to."

Frankie smiles, huffing out a small laugh as he lunges forward and presses his lips to yours again.

The momentum tips you backward on the bed, laying you out on the bed underneath him and making you reach up to grab his shoulders to steady yourself. It's not a small kiss or a tentative one, but one that blots out the rest of the world, making sure the only thing you can possibly think of is him.

It’s been a long time since he has been so enthusiastic about kissing someone, but this is just like your first time all over again. He’s nervous, excited. Age and experience are the only things keeping his hips from rocking an already hard erection against your stomach as he covers your body with his own.

If anyone was trying to tell the difference between you and Frankie as teenagers and you and Frankie now, they would find the task almost impossible. An all-consuming kiss, wandering grasping hands, and only the barest thread of restraint are all hallmarks of the two of you together. If he had still been wearing that towel it would be gone in an instant, but as it is one of your hands slides all the way down to the waistband of his sweatpants and grips in earnest.

“Fuck.” Drowning in you is where he wants to stay. Barely breathing and pulling himself away to kiss down your neck. Wanting to kiss every inch of you. “I— I got checked out.” He groans against your neck. “Physical. I’m clean.”

The pause that gives you is immediate, freezing under him in embarrassment. “I—I haven’t yet. Since…it’s only been a few days. I have condoms though.” With all the upheaval since ending things with Santiago, getting tested had slipped your mind.

“It’s – Pope’s clean.” He knows his brother in arms. He knows how the man is. He might have been a man whore before, but he doesn’t sleep with multiple women. If he was with you, he was tested and only slept with you. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“I—” Maybe its impulsive. Or overly emotional. But when Frankie meets your eyes all you can do is tell him the truth. “I just want to feel you again.”

Frankie groans and nods, nudging his nose against yours and kissing you again. “I want that too.” He insists, pulling away to start peeling your clothes off of you as efficiently as possible.

The pair of leggings and light dress you had reached for this morning in an effort for minimal fuss might as well be nothing at all in the face of Frankie’s determination. The thin cotton dress is up over your head in no time and the leggings peel off of you with all the difficulty of a two-piece puzzle. “I didn’t expect this…” you admit quietly, telling him I’m not so many words that you would have at least picked a matching bra and panties set this morning if you thought there was a possibility he would see them.

“Neither did I,” his smooth cheek would suggest otherwise, but he grins and leans down to kiss down your chest. “But I don’t care about panties, hair, or anything else. I just want you.”

It’s useless that he felt the need to put on pants, because now you’re pushing them off his hips with both hands and biting back a groan at the softness of him. He’s filled out, because of course he has, and the scars from his missions echo your stretch marks in all the years that have been lost between you.

“Gatita…” Your nickname comes out like a prayer, his lips worshipping every inch of your skin.

“Bet it’s been a while since you’ve groaned that name.” It’s certainly been long enough since you heard it like that, a fact that shivers through you with increasing excitement.

“Not true.” He admits with a small smirk as he looks up at you. “You were still my favorite jerk off memory.”

“Still moaning my name while you get yourself off?” Someone that’s simultaneously the sweetest and filthiest thing you’ve heard in ages and you open your legs wider to let him rest in that valley between your thighs. “Let’s see if we can give you something new to think about.”

He gives another filthy groan, aware that things have changed, but he doesn’t care. Your stretch marks are gorgeous to him, you gave birth to his child. Every mark is special. You are just as sexy to him as you were when you both were teenagers. He pulls your bra down and wraps his lips around one nipple as he slides his fingers between your folds to find your clit.

“Fuck, Frankie!” Careful not to be too loud since Luna is napping down the hall, you bite back letting a real shout out and it turns into more of a growl. Your hands are on him instantly, grasping at his shoulders, curling in his hair, and holding him in tight against you as your hips snap up to seek out his thick fingers.

He chuckles darkly, very pleased to find that you are reactive and vocal in your older years. Keeping you quiet had been a favorite game of his.

It isn’t really that different from when you were young. The desire is there as clear as day, coursing through you and sparking with every touch. Every kiss is endlessly deep, like you hold the key to each other’s lives somewhere inside yourselves and the hunt for that missing piece is as deliberate as it is lazy.

Fingers circle your throbbing sex, slicking themselves up with the arousal that is pouring out of you before he dips them inside. Remembering how you loved to be fingered when you were younger, even letting him do it on the subway under a jacket.

If it were anyone else, you might be embarrassed at how thoroughly dripping you are for him already. But Frankie was the first to feel how wet you get from something as simple as being kissed just right, and the hope that is making your pulse beat wildly out of time right now is that he will also be the last. The bookends of your lives might always have been meant to be each other.

The key to making your legs shake and your pussy clench around him is to start slowly. Pushing two fingers deep and curling them up as your walls stretch around him. Groaning at your nipple and flicking his tongue over the stiff peak.

For as well as he remembers your body, it might as well be yesterday that he last touched you and not twenty-five years ago. Your back bows and you moan again, fingernails scraping against his scalp in the way that always makes him growl gorgeously.

“Shit.” Frankie hisses in pleasure, pulling his fingers back and enjoying the sucking sound that they make in your sopping wet pussy. Only to press his thumb to your clit and plunge them back deep again.

The whines and whimpers he pulls from you are as deliberate as any musician playing their instrument in an orchestra. He still plays you expertly. Like muscle memory. He is the one who taught you so much of what brings you pleasure, and you did the same for him. It's all you can do in this moment to get your mind into high gear like the rest of your body, and reach down with one hand and wrap your fingers around his cock.

"Fuck." He groans, rocking his hips up towards the long-wanted touch of your hands. "You always touch me— fuck," he moans your name. "You touch me like no one else ever has."

"Always make me feel so good, baby," you pant out, body twisting every second to be able to be as close to him as possible. "Always want to return the favor."

"You will." He promises. "Let me make you feel good."

"You always do." The promise is absolute, because he really always knows how to make you feel better than anything else ever could.

His fingers continue to pump into you, working you higher and higher as every sensitive nerve ending in your pussy is set on fire by his touch. The tell-tale sign is when your legs begin to shake, thighs tightening and pussy clenching around his fingers. The long strokes of your hand over his cock stutter as pleasure starts to short-circuit your mind, making you forget everything except how good you feel. Frankie has always been good with his hands, but he's definitely learned a few tricks over the years.

Your pussy clenches around his fingers like a vice and he keeps pumping them into you. Wanting to wring you of every second of pleasure you will give him. The quiet cry of his name is like a shot of lightning through his system. "Good girl, fuck gatita. You're so good for me."

It's not you who is being good right now, but Frankie who is treating you so well that when you cry out in pleasure there are actual tears in your eyes. The peak of that pleasure that he's been building you up to is so high that you almost get the sensation of falling when your body finally tenses, shaking you apart at the seams so that the only part of you that hangs on as you start to cum are the parts of you that he has claimed as his own.

His lips still skim over your body as he works you through it. Whispering praises into your skin in Spanish as he watches your face in awe. Struck by how beautiful you are, crushed that he has been so stupid as to walk away so long ago. Determine to make up for lost time.

Whimpering when the aftershocks leave you limp underneath him, both of your hands urge Frankie back up your body, needing to kiss him more than you need air in this moment.

He hums proudly as he shuffles up, kissing you lazily with a grin curving his lips. “Sounds like you just came, gatita.” He teases quietly.

“You’re a menace, Frankie Morales.” The observation is as true now was it was twenty-five years ago.

"Your menace." He adds, smirking slightly as he kisses you again. It sounds amazing, being yours again. He's always been yours in his heart, but now...it's a second chance for both of you.

“I love you, baby.” Another kiss for him is gentler this time. His face is full of promises and his eyes shine bright in the early afternoon light that streams in through his windows.

"I love you." He vows softly, reaching up and caressing your cheek. "I want to make love to you."

“Please.” It might sound like begging, and maybe it is, but it’s been far too long since the last time you laid in this man’s arms and right now you don’t want to be anywhere else.

Every touch is calculated, timed. Meant to show you how much he is cherishing you and this moment means the world to him. He kisses your lips and whispers his love for you once again as he shifts and lines up with your welcoming entrance.

Every stitch of clothing between you is gone along with your inhibitions. Nothing to interrupt you as long as Luna stays asleep and you are definitely not going to do anything to wake up that angel. You'll swallow down every cry or pour it into kissing Frankie and just basking in the beauty of having him back in this moment.

"I love you, gatita." They were the same words that he had whispered to you when he had pushed inside you the first time, repeated now as he slowly starts to sink into you. Watching every micro expression you make as he feels like he is coming home.

“I love you s—so much.” You’ve never been overtly emotional about sex. Not really. You weren’t the kind of girl who cried at the emotional moment of losing your virginity or got choked up over a loving vow made in the heat of the moment. But being so connected with Frankie again almost has you in tears at the sheer rightness of this moment.

Frankie’s arms slide under you, pulling you close as he starts to pull his hips back. Not wanting there to be an inch of space between you when there doesn’t have to be. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He whispers. “Not letting you go again.”

The promise rolls through you with such seriousness that you cling to him a little more tightly. “Never going to let you go.” When his hips tilt forward again, filling you and pressing your bodies together just that much tighter, you could swear you feel one of the cracks in your heart knit back together.

His own heart doesn’t ache anymore, the missing piece that has been gaping in his chest is returned to him. Slotted right back into place perfectly and making him whole. Kissing you again as age and emotions make this time last much longer than your first together.

Moans and praises stay stifled not because of a small apartment with family nearby, not because of friends or because the moment is stolen or illicit, but because you’re drowning in kissing each other the entire time. Every movement is fluid, moving one into the other so it is impossible to tell where you end and he begins, all that matters is that you’re not letting go. Nothing else matters if it isn’t something you can do together — because you’ll never be apart again.

Nothing has ever been as magical as this moment, beyond the first moment he held Luna after she was just born. Nothing can compare to the utter tranquility in his soul, the quiet in his mind as he gives and takes from you in equal parts.

Who knows how long you stay in that bed, turning over each other, clinging and moaning low into drawn out kisses. Who knows how long you stay there or how many times you change positions, keeping each other as close as possible while you work through the bliss of reunion up to the precipice of pleasure. By the time his hips start to stutter and the coil of orgasm starts to tug at the pit of your stomach, you’re on top of him — riding him even as you pour your heart into sobbing praise.

Looking up at you in wonder, all he can do is watch as you splinter yourself into pieces on top of him. Mixing and mingling with him until he is tugging you back close and devouring your mouth in another kiss. Breathing his amazement into you.

You shatter together, finding that remarkable peak of pleasure all at once, and holding tight to each other as you ride out the aftershocks as one.

It goes on forever. Or at least it seems too. Both of you drifting down together until you are collapsed against his chest and breathless. Frankie aching with the first good pain he’s felt in such a long time.

“I love you, baby.” This is it. This is home. The closest to paradise you have ever been or will ever be is in this man’s arms and you’re not going to let another second of your life pass without him being a part of it.

“I love you too, gatita.” He wraps an arm around you and strokes your bare back softly. “I had a thought today, one that’s horrible, but it’s true.” You hum, lifting up to your elbow to look at him curiously. “I wished that you were Luna’s mother. That she was our second baby together.” He chuckles. “Or that late in life ‘whoops’.”

“You never know,” you hum softly, cradled on his chest with your knees still bracketing his hips. If you never move again, you’ll be only too happy to be this close to him. “I still have a couple of years in me as far as baby making goes. Only a few, but they’re still there. And Luna…Frankie, I already love her. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t give birth to her myself.”

His brow lifts in surprise. “Would you really want that?” He asks seriously. “Another baby? With me?”

“I don’t know if it’s possible or safe,” you remind him gently, lifting your head to kiss him again. “But what if I made an appointment with my doctor to get checked out? Let her tell us if it’s a bad idea before we get our hearts set on it?”

“Whatever you want.” Frankie agrees. “I’m clean.” He promises you softly. “I’m never touching any of that shit ever again.” He told you about the coke and you had taken it surprisingly well, but he wants to remind you that he’s serious.

"I know, love." It was a long and twisted road that led him to that, and Marie was the one driving the proverbial car, so you know it's behind him for sure. But you also know Rachel would never forgive him if he relapsed and something happened to little Luna, and he has the love of two daughters hanging in the balance now. "I also know, whatever happens, I love you and I'm going to be right here at your side."

“My license is going to be reinstated.” He whispers quietly. “One of the board members told me. It’s not official yet, but he….wanted to let me know.”

"Honey that's— that's fantastic." You dive in to kiss him again before reluctantly sliding off of him, letting yourself be tucked into his side instead. "We're gonna make it work this time, Frankie. Every bit of it."

“Even if I don’t fly right away, I have my retirement. My disability.” He promises. “I can help you. I need to help you.”

"We'll make up a budget, and we'll make sure everyone is contributing to the house somehow." The grin playing at your lips is soft, and you brush some hair out of his eyes. "Luna can contribute with giggles. The adults will take care of the rest."

“She also blows great raspberries.” He jokes, still slowly caressing your back and hoping this moment never ends.

As if the mention of her name was enough, the sounds of movement from over the baby monitor are nondescript for a minute or so before the soft cooing of a wakening baby turns to the blustering that comes before cries. "Well..." you huff a small laugh and lift yourself up on your elbow. "At least she let us finish."

Frankie laughs and taps your hip. “I’ll get her.” He promises.

"I'm gonna clean up and then I'll meet you downstairs?" The domesticity of the whole thing makes you smile, and you lay back on the pillow again to admire him as he hauls himself out of bed to pull on his boxers and grabs the baby monitor.

Frankie coos when he opens the door, instantly moving over to the crib to get Luna out. “It’s okay, baby girl. Daddy’s gotcha.”

It is okay. Life may not be perfect yet but the promise of it is there. He has you back, he has both of his daughters, and he’s going to make it work this time. You all are. As a family.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer @shakespeareanwannabe

TSR: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @darkheartgatita @anoverwhelmingdin @thisishwrworld

My Masterlist!

[ghostofaboy]

Rock Bottom - Benny

Summary: Frankie is spiraling after Tom’s death. Drugs lead to some unhealthy friendships, and too ashamed to reach out to his former teammates for help, Frankie is drawn into a world he’s afraid he can’t get out of.

After settling into his new life Frankie gets a chance to catch up with Benny.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morale/Original Male Characters Rating: Explicit. Serious over 18s only Word count: 1927 Chapter: 21/?

Warnings: Talk of sex and prostitution, mentions of PTSD, mentions of drug use

Note: This is a fic with gay and bi characters. Please make sure you read the tags/warnings. Header by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Part 20 / Part 1 / Masterpost

After a few weeks, Frankie had started to settle into his strange new routine. While working two jobs was tiring, it was certainly filling up his savings account, which he knew he’d need later down the road if he wanted to get joint custody of Sofia. And finally, he’d spoken to Will about the Vets Rehab program and was now officially on the waiting list. At the assessment appointment, he’d been told the waiting time was two months. Will, who had come with him, had cursed under his breath at Frankie’s side at that, but honestly, Frankie was grateful to have been accepted. Two months wasn’t too long, and considering the waiting lists for other programs, Frankie knew it could have been a hell of a lot longer.

After the initial flurry of sex during the first weekend, Tilly had only used his services once more since. He’d wanted a quick blow job before he left for a business meeting the following Saturday, and after covering Frankie’s face in come, that had been that. After that day, Frankie had spent the rest of the weekend and the one after taking stock of the garage and working on the cars. The only downside of the past few weeks was that things with Tyler had slowed somewhat after he had started his job with Tilly, but thankfully, they had not completely stalled. 

This week had been going by slowly. The repair shop was practically empty, with only a few regular clients to keep them all busy. The unfortunate reality was that there wasn’t enough work for them all. So that morning, Malcolm had called a team meeting to ask for volunteers to go home for the rest of the week. Frankie had immediately put his hand up. 

The way he figured it, he was going to be leaving the shop at the end of next week anyway and had no right to take money out of the pockets of any of the other guys. Plus, with his job at Tilly’s, he had more money than he’d had in years. As he gathered his things, he could hear the others still grumbling as Malcolm asked for one more volunteer before heading back to his truck.

It was only Wednesday, and Tilly wouldn’t be expecting him again until Saturday, which left Frankie with more free time than he’d had in almost a year. Sitting in his truck, he knew exactly who he wanted to see and, pulling out his phone, immediately started to text Tyler. After some thought, he composed what he thought sounded like a good enough message. To the point, sincere, and hopefully not too needy.

[Hey, I know things have been a little weird with us since I took the job with Tilly. I’m off for the rest of the week and was hoping to see you. Frankie x]

Pressing send, Frankie dropped the phone down onto the passenger seat next to him. Now what? Tyler might not even reply, might not want to see him, might not… Gripping the steering wheel, Frankie took a long, deep breath in. The last thing he needed to do right now was spiral. 

His head was getting clearer, but he still wasn’t sleeping too well. His body was exhausted, and he often felt like he could sleep for days. But no matter how tired he was, Frankie found himself sleeping in bursts, interrupted by bouts of nausea and the increasingly frequent nightmare. Vivid, awful dreams of Tom covered in blood. In the dreams, sometimes Tom was alive, following them through the mountains with his head half gone. He was angry at them, screaming at Pope or Frankie about their failures. Other times, Tom was just the first to die, and Frankie would watch as each of his friends was taken from him by unseen enemies. 

But the worst dreams were about something terrible happening to Sofia because of him. Frankie’s mind had managed to conjure up horrific scenario after horrific scenario, covering every possible way his tiny little girl could come to harm.

After a few minutes of focusing on his breathing, Frankie felt a little better. His phone sat silently on the seat next to him, with no reply yet from Tyler. Resisting the urge to pick it up, Frankie started his truck and set off. He didn’t really want to sit at home and stew, the thought of being alone right now didn’t seem like a good idea. Then again, just heading over to Tyler’s trailer also might not be well received. And as much as Frankie wanted to see him, he also knew he needed to give Tyler space.

After that initial weekend at Tilly’s, Tyler had come around to his place just as they had arranged, but the atmosphere was tense. Tyler had admitted his jealousy and discomfort, while acknowledging that he felt like a hypocrite because of it. In the end, they’d watched a movie before Tyler left for the night. Since then, they’d seen each other a handful of times. Each time was getting easier, edging closer to the normalcy they’d once had.

Stopping at a red light, Frankie ran over the options in his mind. Home would drive him stir-crazy and let him dwell on bad shit. Tyler’s wasn’t an option just yet. Then it hit him. Benny. He knew the gym Benny was training at and that he’d be there every day. With a destination in mind, Frankie felt his shoulders relax a little as he set off toward the gym.

Benny was based in a new gym converted from an old factory. From the outside, it didn’t look like much, a little shabby even. But as Frankie made his way through the front door, he was met with a clean and modern gym set-up. The young guy at the front desk looked up when Frankie approached.

“Hi.” He smiled, setting down his notepad. “You lookin’ to join?”

“I’m just looking for Ben Miller.” Frankie shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m an old friend and-”

“Wait.” The young guy’s smile grew. “Are you Catfish?”

“Yeah?” Frankie cocked his head, a little confused. 

“Oh man!” The guy stood up and made his way around the desk. “Ben talks about you all the time! It’s so cool to meet you! Come on, I’ll take you through.”

Frankie couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he was led through to the main gym and to the back of the large workout area. Men glanced up as he passed, some frowning at his jeans and obvious lack of gym clothes. Frankie blushed as a fit, younger man shimmering with sweat winked at him. Finally, at the very back, Frankie could see a group of men standing and chatting next to a couple of punchbags. And there, in the middle, throwing his head back as he laughed, was Benny.

Frankie’s heart skipped a beat. Even after all this time, even knowing that Benny would never be interested in him, Frankie couldn’t help admiring his friend. Benny was laughing and talking with his friends or trainers, topless in just a set of baggy shorts. Sweat clung to his toned body, making him glisten in the artificial light. Benny turned as head as Frankie approached and his smile grew.

“Fish!” 

In a flash, Benny’s sweaty arms were wrapped around Frankie, his face buried in Frankie’s neck, and suddenly everything seemed right in the world. For a few moments, Frankie let Benny just hold him, before Benny eventually stepped away. 

“What are you doing here, man!” Benny slapped his shoulder playfully. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Work’s slow, so I’ve got the day off.” Frankie smiled. “Thought I’d come and check up on you.”

“I’m almost done here.” Benny gestured to his trainer behind him. “You ok to wait, then we can go get some lunch?”

“Perfect.”

A couple of hours later, Frankie’s cheeks ached from smiling. It felt so good to spend time with Benny. It felt like old times. Benny told the same crappy jokes, and Frankie laughed at Benny’s terrible Spanish. It was like South America had never happened. 

They ate lunch before heading back to Benny’s apartment and sat talking about Benny’s fighting. As the hours passed, Frankie could feel the tension leaving him. He needed this. He needed his old squad. He’d spent far too long in this new world created of his own mistakes, and this afternoon felt like a return to normalcy. 

“So…” Benny licked his lips before taking a sip of his tea. “Work is slow?”

“Yeah.” Frankie nodded, blowing on his own drink to cool it. “Only a few regular jobs, not enough for all of us, so Malc asked for volunteers to take the week off.”

“And you volunteered?”

“Yeah.” Frankie cocked his head at Benny. “Why?”

“And you can afford to do that?” Benny was looking at him strangely over his steaming drink. 

“Yeah, I can afford it.” Frankie frowned. This conversation had taken a strange turn and he wasn’t sure he liked the way Benny was looking at him. “What’s this about Ben?”

“Have you been working with that new friend? What was his name? Tyler? The streamer?” Benny took another sip. He was keeping his tone light, but Frankie knew this was an interrogation. Benny was digging.

“No.” Frankie answered honestly. He hadn’t decided yet if he was going to do any video with Tyler. Pausing for a moment he weighed his options, before answered making sure to keep his tone equally as light. “I took a private mechanic job. I’m working it on the weekends until I finish my notice at Malc’s place. Ben…” Frankie set his drink down, leaning forward in his seat. “Ben, what is this about? Why does this feel like an interrogation?” 

“I’m just worried that’s all.” Benny let out a long sigh. “You’ve only just got clean again and…”

“And?”

“And, a buddy of mine said he saw you a few weeks back.” Benny looked uncomfortable, his cheeks growing redder as he searched for the right words. “You were, um, it was at Cutler’s and… he said he saw…”

As Benny trailed off and Frankie could feel his face beginning to burn with shame. Cutler’s was a dive bar Gavin had taken him to a few times. He’d blow guys in the dimly lit parking lot and sometime get fucked around the back of the place. The last time was around five weeks ago and Frankie had sucked three cocks in the parking lot while Gavin chatted and sold coke.

“And your friend saw me blowing some guys?” Frankie let his head drop, peeking up at Benny from under the brim of his cap. “Is that what you were gonna say?”

“Yeah.” Benny slumped down in his chair, looking at Frankie with those goddam big sad eyes. “He said, fuck, he said that you had a pimp.”

“Fuck.” Frankie could feel his hands shaking as he reached up to take his cap off. Throwing the Standard Oil cap down onto his knee, Frankie heard himself speaking before his brain had a chance to catch up. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. But… that’s over now. I’m clean now, I swear. It’s… all that… I… I don’t have a pimp now.”

“Fuck Fish.” Benny looked heartbroken, and Frankie had to force himself not to bolt out the door. “Fuck. How did you… how did that start?”

“You really wanna know?” Frankie could feel the tears starting to roll down his cheeks. 

“Tell me everything.”

[pedropascalito]

Is Frankie Morales having a huge dick is canon?

Seriously. Did I miss this very important information when I watched Triple Frontier ?

Every fic about him is like :

Okay baby, let me get you ready for my gigantic fucking cock. Poor reader’s pussy needs to adjust for 48 hrs before any movements can be made.

Every fic: Will likes (is obsessed with) eatinf pussy and Frankie The LEGEND Morales could kill you with one single thrust.

So. Is it Canon?

Sure

[little-mrs-morales]

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Was this a date?

junes.pegasus

This is oneshot that warms my heart. Such a sweet little thing to cheer you up when you feel down. Frankie Morales as a sweet best friends brother, who is also caring. “You really gave me no choice, being that sweet, kind, sexy as hell son of a bitch that you are.” and thats what perfectly describe who Frankie is. Such a comforting character.

A Second Chance at Love

@absurdthirst @wardenparker

I feels like they are going to be here every week. Every single piece written by these two is good read! I love a lot of authors from Tumblr but i need to say that they have such a unique style and are definitely one of the best authors in the fandom. Quality of their work is incredible and im in owe they share it with us for free!!

People lately starts to thirst over Wiskey again and this piece is so sweet and beautiful.

Casa Werewolf

@princessbatears

This story makes me think more about Javi G, especially about how he fit for a story with single mother. The whole story is very comfotring but brings a new element portrayed by warewolf triplets. Javi G can be a great step-father but how he deals with little warewolfs? he is so lovable and caring, that everybody falls for him. I remember reading it throught and always waiting for notification for new chapter. Its easy reading you can rest with!

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Cramps

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

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

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

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

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

Bitchy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your period had come.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you. You’re the best.” 

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

“Oh shut up, meanie.” 

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

“Love you too. 🤍” 

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

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

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

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I can make that happen.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Frankie, holy fuck.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[something-tofightfor]

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #2: Frankie Morales - Kiss in the Hammock

Number two for this event goes to @the-blind-assassin-12 for our favorite helicopter pilot. This follows along with the Life is Good storyline and takes place after Red, White and True.

Word count: 1,244

Rating: M? IDK. This one is tame but there's some suggestion.

“Damn.” 

You woke to the sound of his voice, sucking in a breath as your entire body jerked. The hammock beneath you swung from side to side, its motion much more fluid than it had been previously. Oh, shit.

Rocking back and forth while you tried to catch yourself using both hands, you heard the sound of quiet laughter - and then you stilled, head turning to the side. “Frankie? I’m sorry, I fell asleep.” 

“You did.” Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you stared up at him. He had the hat on his head tipped backwards, the ends of his hair curling wildly around his ears like they always did after he’d run his hands through it. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“It’s fine.” Stretching, you closed your eyes and yawned, humming as you curled your toes inward. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon, it -” Frankie laughed again, interrupting your explanation.

“I’m back at the regular time.” What? How long was I sleeping? “We’ve got to think about getting ready to head out soon. Dinner at Ironhead’s is in an hour and a half.” 

You attempted to sit up, beginning to swing your legs toward where he stood. But when Frankie murmured your name, shaking his head slowly, you stopped. “What? You just said I need to get out of here and go inside to change.”

“Wait a minute.” He let go of the edge of the hammock, bending down to untie his shoes. “We’ve got a couple, at least.” 

You figured out what he was doing moments later when Frankie stood again, pulling his hat off and letting it fall to the ground next to his shoes and your phone, which was face down in the neatly trimmed grass. “Franke, how much weight can these things …” Trailing off when he sat at the edge and then swung his feet up, you closed your eyes as you scooted over, making space. “...hold?” 

“Plenty. I bought the heavy duty frame and the most durable material so that it wouldn’t blow away if I couldn’t get to it in time during a storm. We’re fine.” He pressed himself against your side and then turned his head to look at you. “Hi.” 

The way he stared at you still took you by surprise sometimes. 

After the initial week together in Virginia and the first couple visits between you in your hometowns, you’d known things were real. When he’d admitted that he loved you on the boat only a few months prior, everything had slammed firmly into place, your feelings for him just as overwhelming and consuming as you’d ever hoped falling in love with someone would be. 

But no matter how much you believed the words he said or how strongly you felt the same in return, it would never compare to the intensity in his eyes when they met yours. Frankie always looked at you with interest, but when he was really emotional, there was a quiet desperation there, too - the fear of losing you or ruining things hidden just behind the desire. 

“Hey, ‘Fish.” You only used the nickname sparingly, preferring to call him by his full name if you didn’t use Frankie, but when he grinned at the sound, the corners of his eyes crinkling and the dimple in his bearded cheek appearing, you knew it had been the right call that day. “How were your flights?”

“Good. Only had three today. Two short tours and a longer one. Lots of people visiting for Thanksgiving so the longer tour was parents with a kid. He loved it up there. Reminded me of Elijah.” Of course it does. The weight of the two of you made the hammock rock gently, the side to side motion slower than it had been at your sudden, surprised movement. It felt good to lay there with him, and when Frankie finally closed his eyes and took a long breath, settling one palm against his stomach, you spoke again. 

“I like this. With you.” He hummed out an agreement, shifting even closer and pressing a kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering there. It was the first time you’d been in the hammock together, though you’d both used it separately multiple times in the days you’d spent in Florida. Maybe I should get one of these for home. “I’m glad you had a good day.” 

“It’s even better now.” He spoke while moving again, the man rolling onto one hip and elbow and then hooking a leg over both of yours, getting as close as possible. “I like coming home to you.” You were certain that he heard the sharp intake of breath and saw the widening of your eyes, but Frankie gave you no time to reply, his arm sliding under your neck and shoulders as he lowered his head. “A hell of a lot.” 

You liked him coming home to you, too, but didn’t get a chance to say so before he kissed you, the man’s lips already parted by the time they met yours. Raising the arm that wasn’t trapped beneath his body, you ran your fingers through Frankie’s hair, lifting your hips a few inches to reposition yourself.

That changed the way his body rested against you, but it also changed the angle of the kiss just enough for you to suck his lower lip between both of yours, increasing the pressure enough to elicit a quiet groan from him. 

“Stop that.” He mumbled the words, but you could feel the smile on his lips while he spoke. “We don’t have time.” Frankie didn’t pull away though, the man kissing you again, his lips pressed against your mouth with purpose. “Unless…” 

He backed away, blinking down at you. “Unless what?” You watched as he arched a brow, the hand not on your shoulder sliding up your side and pushing the thin hoodie you wore with it. 

“Unless you can be quick.” His eyes darkened, Frankie glancing down and then back up. “And I mean really quick, because -” 

You pushed him away eagerly, hand firmly on his shoulder, but thanks to your position, you pushed a little too hard, Frankie’s weight - and the momentum from your shove - carrying him backwards and out of the hammock, the man tumbling to the grass with his mouth open in surprise. “Oh, shit, I’m -” You rolled, too, peeking down at him over the edge of the fabric as he blinked up at you, mouth hanging open in shock. “Are you alright?” 

But you were trying not to laugh, because the sight of Frankie sprawled out on the grass beneath you was downright amusing. “I’m fine. My pride’s taken a hell of a hit, but…” He groaned, swiping a hand over his face. “I’ll live. Probably.” I’m sure you will. 

Carefully, you moved so that you could stand from the hammock, one foot planted on each side of his hips. “We should go inside and make sure.” Bending down and resting your hands on your knees, you locked eyes with him. “I can be very quick, Francisco. Can you?” His eyes darkened again before he used both elbows to push himself upright, lips crashing into yours a second time. Perfect. This is perfect. 

“Fuck being quick.” It was little more than a whisper, but you heard him nonetheless, Frankie trailing off before he tugged on your lip with his teeth, his nose wrinkling. “Ironhead can wait for us.” 

— 

[albertasunrise]

Baby journey update

So after a year of trying, I have now been referred for a scan and further bloods.

I honestly never thought it’d get to this point but here we are! Obviously praying that there isn’t anything seriously wrong and that if there is anything, it’s treatable. But this has honestly been the shittiest year!

This journey has obviously made certain fics difficult for me to update but I promise you all that I will! Thanks to everyone that’s supported me through this shit show of a journey! I hope we get some answers soon!

Updates for ‘Only You’ and ‘Oops Baby’ are in the works!

Thanks for being so patient my darlings ♥️ it means the working!

[endlessthxxghts]

Full

Frankie Morales x afab!Reader

Summary: You want Frankie to knock you up, and fuck, does he wants that, too. W/C: 1k. (I actually stuck to the word count this time… but at what insanely hot cost?😵‍💫) 18+ MDNI: Implied established relationship. Literally 0% plot and 100% PORN. Unprotected P in V sex. MAJOR BREEDING KINK. Cumming inside. Slight daddy kink (in the sense that you wanna make Frankie a daddy🫶🏼). One (1) pussy slap. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation kink. Finger fucking. Pics for aesthetic purposes only.

A/N: This lil drabble is a part of my 1k follower celebration in response to this yummy request made by @javierpena-inatacvest😵‍💫 Please take a deep breath and get comfortable while you read this… ANYWAY, happy Valentine’s Day everyone!!! What better way to celebrate than with Frankie and his breeding kink?😋 Hope you guys enjoy, and please do let me know what you guys think!!!! I love love love your feedback (or- in other words) !!!🤭

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

“Fuck, Frankie…”

“Taking it so good, querida, fuck-”

“Please- shit- please, Frankie, don’t stop.”

“I’m not, baby,” he moans, eyes threatening to succumb to the back of his skull, “Not gonna fucking stop until you’re full of me, baby, yo prometo.” I promise. 

“Sh-shit, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, ohmygod-” your eyes clamp shut, your jaw hangs open, ass up in the air as your tears and drool soak the pillow beneath your face. 

Frankie speeds up, pummeling into you hard and fast, his large hands coasting the surface of your ass and your back, groaning at the way you twitch and writhe underneath him. His hands settle at your waist, gripping you tightly, accentuating the arch of you. He’s so fucking deep at this angle, you can feel him hitting your cervix with each thrust forward. It’s an addicting sensation right now—and it will be even later, when the dull ache overtakes you. “Give it to me,” he breathes, “cum all over my cock, querida, needa feel you.”

His hand snakes around to your front, the pad of his fingers meeting your clit, rubbing it in the perfect motion that sends you reeling. Fireworks—no, dynamite, explodes behind the dark of your eyelids, your head adopting that fuzzy feeling, your body following suit not long after. “So fucking good, you feel so fucking good, Frankie, oh my God- oh fuck-” you ramble partially incoherently. 

Your thighs are jello, unable to keep yourself up as Frankie continues fucking into you; his arm wraps around your middle, his other pawing at your breast. He pulls you up to be flush against his chest as he begs your alter for his own release. “I’m c- mierda- I’m close,” he whimpers right at your ear. 

Mustering up as much strength as you can, you twist your head to face him, your hand reaching up and rooting yourself at the back of his messy curls. You yank his head towards you, crashing his mouth against yours. It’s sloppy and wet, swallowing each other’s tongues whole as the thickness of your shared breaths melt into one. Breaking away with a bite to his kiss-swollen lower lip, you whisper into his mouth, “cum inside me, Frankie, please.”

“Baby-” he chokes, his hips speed up, arousing him beyond what he thought was possible. “Want you in me for days, Francisco,” you whimper, licking a stripe on his neck, collecting the salty liquid running down. His hand makes its way back to your throbbing bud. 

Your body goes lax in his hold, you secure your grip at the base of his neck, keeping your faces close to each other. He watches with heavy eyes as you struggle to keep your gaze on his, your brows furrowing slightly as your eyelids begin to flutter. “Need you-” you start, a throaty moan cutting you off. “Need you inside me- need you to fuck it so deep, baby,” you sob, “that it has no choice but to fucking take- fuck-”

Frankie’s heart stutters and his cock twitches. “Yeah?” he grits between his teeth. “Want me to fuck you full?” A particularly hard thrust sends you cross-eyed, your nails digging into his neck. “Want me to fucking get you pregnant right now, baby?” 

An appreciative little slap to your slippery clit jolts your eyes open, his lustful gaze with a hint of something more—like adoration, like pure devotion—stares you down. You pull him into you once more, a clash of spit and teeth and tongue—you can even taste a hint of your own arousal from when he ate you out before you were begging him to knock you up. “Please- fuck- yes, baby, yes- fucking- let me make you a daddy, baby, please- want you- need it- need you so fucking bad-”

Fuck. Frankie’s pace falters, his hips stammer as his orgasm consumes him—his cum painting your warm walls, filling you up to the brim. You moan at the sensation, your hips thrusting backwards into him, and before you realize it, you’re cumming again, both your bottom halves an utter mess of each other’s arousal. 

Frankie softly slips from your heat, and you both hiss at the loss. He releases his hold on you, guiding you onto your back, his hands settling on the insides of your thighs to keep you open for him. His eyes can’t leave the way your pussy looks right now—completely fucked out, shiny with your slick, and filled with his cum. You feel it start to leak out of your hole, and you whine, the feeling so sensitive but dizzying, knowing you’re overflowing with Frankie. 

Before you know it, his fingers are collecting the dripping spend, bringing it back to your entrance, and slowly, his fingers enter you, the initial push inward causing more of his cum to seep out of you, but he’s quick to catch the leakage, pushing it back inside of you, where it needs to be. 

With one hand holding one thigh down and the other inside of your sex, Frankie’s entranced, starting up a delicious pace fucking into you with his fingers. You’re a moaning mess of curses mixed with his name, overstimulation taking over your body, but you don’t want him to stop. 

He couldn’t even if he tried. He’s too caught up in the notion that after this, his sperm could latch, and in nine months from now, you’d be big and round and glowing carrying the product of your love. Fuck, he needs this to work. He’ll fill you up every fucking day if that’s what it takes. 

He’s pulled from his trance when a heady moan roars from your throat, “F-fuck, fuck, Frankie, I’m gonna fucking cum again! Oh my god, baby- fuck-” 

His eyes are on your face: pure ecstasy, he’s seeing, in the way your head throws back into your pillow, only the white of your eyes showing, as the veins pop out your neck as you scream out in pleasure. 

He slides his fingers out, slick with a mixture of both of your arousal, and brings it up to your mouth. He knows how much you love to taste. 

Immediately you open up, lapping up your combined flavors greedily, a content, blissful smile plastered lazily on your face. 

“Am I full, baby?” You mumble. 

“So full, querida,” he whispers, laying his body over yours, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. 

“Do you think…” you trail off softly, nervous. 

“I don’t know, mi amor,” he breathes, kissing your chest. “Guess we’ll just have to keep you full everyday until we can check, huh?” 

Your cheeks heat up, your exhausted pussy already fluttering in anticipation. “Y-yeah. I guess so.” 

End note: LOLOL GUYS I, UH.. I REALLY WENT HARD ON THIS ONE, I'M SORRY BUT ALSO I'M NOT SORRY ASDFGFDFH PLS LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK <3 YOUR GUYS' WORDS MEAN THE WORLD TO ME, I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH Also how you doing, babe @javierpena-inatacvest?? You alive? Still with me?? I LOVE YOU AHAHAHAH