#francisco frankie morales

[pimosworld]

Only if you catch me

Pairing-Frankie Morales x f!reader

Series Summary-You meet Frankie when you least expect it. Both of you hiding from your past and trying to find each other won’t be easy, but it’s worth it if forever is with him. 

Series Warnings- 18+,MDNI, NSFW, Angst, hurt/comfort, Slow-ish burn, Explicit Smut, D/S dynamics, canon typical violence, Tom is mentioned (but dead), The boys got the money, Frankie helping reader open up in the bedroom, mentions of past abusive relationships, recovering addict, PTSD, tough family relationships, healing through therapy, protective Frankie, protective TF boys, found family, reader is a photographer , no description of reader other than the nickname Flash. 

WC-7k (who am I?)

A/N- This introductory chapter got me so excited for this. I hope you love these two as much as I do.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter 1. Aperture

This should be a simple shoot.

  In and out. 

  Easy enough to dust off the cobwebs and get your name out there in a new city. An amateur boxer about to go pro. He needs a promo bill for some huge fight he has coming up. The details don’t really concern you about why. It’s the who. 

  Capturing a good shot isn’t about the camera or the angle, it’s not even about the time of day or lighting. That’s all secondary to who and what is in front of the lense. The emotion makes the image feel one hundred times better than the camera could ever try to capture. 

  You figured this would be a good way to dip your toes back into working. 

  You're early. An odd habit you picked up from knowing that the most meaningful shots are captured when everyone’s guard is down. When the family is setting up or when the bride is hanging out with her friends. When everyone is too preoccupied to pose…that’s when the magic happens. 

  It’s a modest gym, warehouse style on the edge of town. Thankfully not far from your new apartment so you didn’t have to stress about still not knowing your way around. Judging by the minimal trucks in the parking lot it’s a private shoot. That helps your nerves settle a little more not having to be in too large of a crowd. 

  You can tell you’re stalling so you brace your hand on your tote bag and the other on the door handle and haul yourself out of the old green Jeep. The most tried and true possession you own besides the Nikon Z nestled neatly in its case. 

  ****

  Low rumbles of men’s voices hit you when you enter the gym. The scent of sweat soaked leather and old wooden floors. The faint hint of liniment and gym mats. 

  The front desk is empty but you wait there for a brief moment. Taking in the clean front entry way  with various pictures on the wall. Some posed and some candids of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen. Just beyond the desk is a large framed photo of some of the men and one brunette clad in military gear. 

  A huge roar of laughter sounds from the other room, a welcoming sound that you feel yourself being pulled towards. So you take a deep breath, shrugging your strap higher on your shoulder and venture towards it. 

  You wanted to look nice,professional on your first job. Now the heels clicking against the wood, signaling to the men that a woman is approaching seems like the worst idea you’ve ever had. All eyes land on you as you enter the main area of the gym. There’s two men in the ring. One man is hunched over, dripping sweat as he looks like he ran several miles. A tall blonde leans on the ropes, looking the opposite of exhausted as he does nothing to disguise the way he rakes up and down your form. A huskier version of him is making his way towards you, a look in his eyes almost like he’s stalking prey, yet there’s something familiar there and it dawns on you that they were in the photo. 

  Another man across the room leans against the wall, his broad back turned away from everyone while he talks on his phone. His hand flits nervously to the back of his neck as he continues his conversation in hushed words. 

  “You’re early. I like that.” The man extends his hand and you compose yourself briefly to offer a former handshake than he expected. You can see it in his eyes as he releases it. “I’m Will, that’s my brother Ben in the ring that you’ll be taking photos of.” 

  “Hi sweetheart.” Ben blows you a kiss with his gloved hand and you raise your eyebrows at the forward gesture. Handsome, cocky, definitely not your type. 

  “Ignore him.” 

  “It’s kind of my job to do the opposite.” You offer up as you make your way to an open bench and he laughs genuinely. 

  You can feel the nerves rolling off you in waves as you open your bag to set up your camera. You know they’re watching, waiting for instruction and something about having the cool heavy metal in your hand always turns you into a bit of a bossy bitch. You don’t mean it but you can tell around these men you’ll have to hold your own or run the risk of being treated like a joke. 

  Will had already gone over in great detail via email what his vision was for Ben’s promo. The man was meticulous in his description of how he wanted his brother to look. You could tell how much he cared about his image in the way he wanted you to capture his youthfulness and passion for the sport. You didn’t need any further direction when you squared up alongside the ring. 

  “You here to capture my boyish good looks?” Ben flexes his muscles as you take a photo catching him slightly off guard. 

  “Just pretend I’m not here.” You gesture towards the other man in the ring who’s finally gained some composure. 

  “That’s James, don’t worry about him. He likes getting his ass kicked.” 

  “Oh…I guess you would know.” Ben scoffs and Will has to hide his smile behind his hands at your banter. Not one to back down from a little teasing and unbeknownst to Ben capturing candid photos while he tries to flirt. 

  You flit your eyes to Will in a silent communication. 

  “Ben! Focus please.” 

  It’s almost immediate the way he switches to fight mode. Dancing around his opponent, toying with him like he’s a child. He doesn’t seem phased by the snap of your camera as you take a few test shots. 

  The way he bites his lip when he’s squaring up his opponent. How he bounces left to right when he doesn’t have a good shot. Maybe only you notice because you’re watching him so intently when he realizes he’s found his opening. His vision zeroes in and his movements cease. 

  That’s when you take the shot. 

  “He’s too photogenic.” The low sultry voice registers behind you but it doesn’t cause you to startle. 

  “Disgustingly so.” 

  He laughs, and there it is again. The boldened, unadulterated laugh that these men have a lock on. 

  You don’t have to turn around to know the mysterious voice is accompanied by the man that you’ve been eyeing since you got here. He’s confident enough to penetrate your bubble of safety to occasionally peek over your shoulder as you check the shots you're getting. 

  If he notices you flinch at the sound of leather meeting skin he doesn’t say anything. 

  “It’s a shame such a handsome face chooses to subject itself to such torture.” You say as you continue to adjust the angle. He glances over to you, watching you work. Trying to keep his eyes off your legs exposed in your knee high sundress. 

  His body is closer to you now, this stranger. 

  “He doesn’t make a habit of getting hit.” He smirks when you look at him and there’s no cover for you as your lips curl into a smile. “It’s easy to not pretend that he’s so good looking.” 

  “Don’t sell yourself short.” 

  He looks at you then as he brushes his fingers along his lips. Chocolate brown eyes piercing into you and you can’t help but snap a picture. 

  It’s brief. The moment of apprehension from him as you study the photo on your lense camera. This stranger is awaiting your approval. Likely not having his photo taken in such an intimate setting in quite some time. Another one of the handsome men from the front desk picture. 

  It takes you by surprise when you see it. 

  If he notices he doesn’t say a word. 

  He’s beautiful. An old world beauty with all hard lines and soft eyes. He sidles up next to you and the warmth emanating from him is enough to have you delirious. 

  “So…what’s the verdict?” 

  You bite your lip and hold on as you glance up at him. His mouth slightly parted in an o shape as he watches you release it. 

  “You’re a natural.” 

  “Francisco.” 

  You give him your name and he says it like a command. 

  “Hey, I’m not paying you to take pictures of his ugly mug.” Ben’s voice cuts through the little moment you were having with him as he flips his friend off, looking a little sheepish at having displayed it in front of you. 

  You send him an apologetic look as you get back to work. You occasionally check the images to make sure the lighting isn’t off. It’s glaringly obvious that Ben is posing and it’s throwing you off. You want him to look more natural but instead it’s coming off like a cheesy catalog. 

  “So…you borrowing that camera from Andy?” There’s that voice again, so close to you and you can’t deny it does something that you wish it wouldn’t. 

  You smirk glancing down at the black and white label just above your lense. 

  ANDY

  “No, that’s her name…Andromeda.” Offering up no further explanation you continue shooting, walking around the ring because you have to find a way to work around Ben's chaos. 

  He’s following closely behind as his heavy footsteps creak on the old wood floors. His arms crossed against his chest as you look over your shoulder. His face reads exactly what you would expect from purposefully leaving someone in the dark for your own amusement. 

  “Andy because Andromeda wouldn’t fit…Andromeda was rumored to be the most beautiful and…” You trail off as you admire it in your hand. “She’s the most beautiful in my collection and the most important to me.” 

  Running his tongue over the front of his teeth you think he wants to make fun but it’s quite the opposite. You’re distractingly beautiful and cute and if he was feeling adventurous he’d call you Andromeda but he’s not confident enough to dish that one out. So he stays quiet. 

  Too quiet. 

  You’re panicking thinking how you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of this handsome man and you should back pedal. Explain away your ramblings because you’re so used to not being understood. Yet he surprises you. 

  “I have a heli named Lucy.” 

  He mentions all casually and you have to register that he means helicopter. Subtle 

  “Francisco.” 

  “Frankie, my friends call me.” 

  “Frankie…you own a helicopter?” 

  Will stepped into the ring to let Ben know he can stop torturing James. Frankie has to thank his friend as he sees him grab Ben to keep him from intruding on one of the best conversations he’s had in awhile. 

  “It’s not meant to be a brag, but yes.” 

  You hum in approval as you turn to look at him. Your eyes pin him to the spot and he feels his face grow hot. 

  “Lucy is a lucky lady.” 

  It’s the gleam in your eyes. The way his stomach does a flip when he gets a whiff of your perfume. He’d throw away all notions of the cliche love at first sight because maybe he finally sees how it’s possible. It also welcomes another uneasy feeling. The feeling that people are so quick to settle for less, something he’s done most of his life because that’s what he thought he deserved. His last few relationships he settled just to feel comfortable and one of those almost took him under. 

  “So did you turn me into a model or what?” Ben slaps Frankie on the back and he’s never wanted to strangle him more. “Or what.” Mumbled under his breath and he catches your smile ear to ear. 

  You don’t answer as you see Will approaching already knowing who has the final say. 

  Ben’s ribbing him, sending all sorts of suggestive eyes at Frankie as he wraps his sweaty body on his shoulders and you slink away to handle business. 

  ****

  “These look great.” You know Will is being nice when it comes to your work…you don’t want nice. You want honest. 

  “They could look better.” He snorts as he looks over at his brother shadow boxing Frankie.

  “Tell me more.” 

  ****

  You’d said your goodbyes and made your way out of the gym with your dignity intact. Stepping out into the parking lot to take the first deep breath in over an hour. 

  Will was thoroughly impressed with the photos. So impressed that he asked you…practically begged you to photograph Ben's upcoming fight. You think this may have just been an audition for that but you can’t be mad since he paid you for today and you got to meet Frankie. 

  He could sense your apprehension and assured you that the fights are nothing but professional and he would be there if you had any concerns. Of course you were secretly hoping Frankie would be there as well. 

  Since moving to Tampa Florida a year ago you knew dating was out of the question. The dramatic fashion in which you ended up here was enough to have you swearing off all forms of a relationship. As the months passed and you watched your savings dwindle you knew it was only a matter of time before you picked up your camera again and tried to find that sliver of hope that you hadn’t lost the passion for something you once loved. 

  Meeting Frankie was unexpected and it makes you wonder if you’re even ready for this. It seems you’re getting a little ahead of yourself because all you received when you left him was a polite nice to meet you. You didn’t miss the way his friends looked at him as though he had more to say. 

  You put the keys in the ignition of your old Jeep praying to anyone listening that it will still turn over. You know it’s on its last leg but you definitely can’t afford a new car right now. The weak ac blows in your face as it roars to life and you curse yourself for having chosen a place so humid that everything clings to you to the point of suffocation. 

  Your phone is buzzing in your tote and you already know who it is before checking. 

  “Hi Dom.” 

  “How’d you know it was me?” You take a long pause and hear her chuckle on the other end. 

  “Dominique, you’re the only person I talk to.” 

  Your sister, the only family member you can still stomach talking to. The only sane one who understood your struggles and didn’t dismiss your need to separate from your toxic mom and stepdad. 

  You felt bad leaving her behind but she had a family of her own that kept her afloat. Her wife Elise and your adorable nephew Casey were the only family you acknowledged at this point. 

  “So how was the shoot?” You can hear it in her voice. You know what she’s really asking. Are you okay?

  “It was great honestly.” You pause long enough for her to seem worried. She always worried, being your older sister. 

  “Hmmm.”

  “I’m being honest. It went a lot better than I thought. I was having second thoughts at first with this being my first one, but the second I started it was like riding a bike.” 

  “And you were fine with the fighting?” A beat of silence. 

  “Yes…it wasn’t really fighting, more so just throwing a few punches and dancing around.” You clear your throat. “The boxer is actually a sweetheart. His friend and brother were there too and they were really nice.” 

  “Ohhh tell me more about this boxer.” 

  “Oh no he’s not the one.-“ You hadn’t stopped yourself in enough time to catch the way you specified that there was one. 

  “The brother…wait no let me guess.” You groan at your sister’s incessant detective skills. “It’s the friend isn’t it?” 

  “It’s no one actually.” Which isn’t quite a lie. “Oh shit.” 

  You hear your sister frantically asking what’s wrong when you see Frankie exiting the gym. It looks like he’s coming right towards you but maybe he’s just parked near you. You don’t seem to be that lucky when he rounds the side of your car and taps on the window. 

  “Give me a sec Dom.” 

  You roll down the window as you try to calm your beating heart. He leans against the side slightly ducking to shield himself from the sun and you notice how snugly his shirt fits around his bicep. 

  “This Jeep has to be almost twenty years old.” He glances in at the pristine interior admiring your mini camera charm hanging from the rearview mirror. 

  “Wow, we’re starting off with insults.” You smile and he can’t help the way it’s already so easy with you. 

  “It was meant as a compliment.” The way he drops his voice and his close proximity has you sweating, or maybe the humidity is taking over. “Anyway…I just wanted to let you know I’ll be there on Friday. Will said you seemed a little nervous.” 

  You groan as you hide your face in your hands “Was it that obvious?” 

  He hesitates as he looks at the worry lines between your brows, wanting to smooth them out with his thumb and he thinks me might actually be losing his mind over you. “No…I’m sure it was fine.”

  Fine

  He removes his cap as he runs his fingers through his hair and it’s not evident if he’s doing it on purpose or if it’s a nervous habit but you wish he would stop looking so handsome. 

  “I look forward to seeing you and Andy on Friday.” His eyebrow arched and his lips curled up into a smile. 

  You plop your hands dramatically on the steering wheel. “I’ll be the awkward one with a camera if you can’t find me.” You both laugh and a moment passes as you wait for something, you’re not sure what. “Bye Frankie.”

  You roll up your window and sigh at the cool air hitting your damp skin as he takes one last look at you over his shoulder. You think he’s heading to leave but he retreats back into the gym and you realize he came out here looking for you. You are so fucked. 

  You shakily hold the phone up to your ear. “Dom, you still there?”

  A shriek echoes in your ear as you hold the phone away. 

  “I’m deaf now…are you happy?” You can practically see her face on the other end. All teeth and tongue as she tries to contain her sarcasm. 

  “Who’s Frankie, how does he know about Andy? What’s happening on Friday?” She’s spiraling now and you don’t have the patience to sit in this parking lot any longer. 

  “I gotta go Dom, I’ll explain later.” 

  “Don’t you dare hang up-“

  ****

  Friday

  You’d been nervously counting down the days leading up to the fight for several reasons. The thought of seeing Frankie again and the fact that Will had a lot of confidence that you were going to be perfect for the job. Despite never having watched a professional fight let alone photographed one terrified you. 

  Blood made you squeamish and the thought of possibly witnessing any broken bones had you sweating through your shirt. 

  You’re early again but Will was impressed by that. The fight is being hosted at a much larger gym so you wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost on the way. Giving yourself a once over before hopping out of your car with your tote and Andy in tow. 

  Heels didn’t seem appropriate for a fight so you went for a casual look of jeans and some thrifted tee shirt from ages ago that had Mike Tyson on the front. 

  Going anywhere alone always gives you anxiety but you muster up the courage to head inside. The moment you step through the door it’s an assault on your senses. The unmistakable scent of stale sweat and cheap cologne greets you. There’s a lot of people already here crowding around the ring and taking their seats. The air vibrates with a hum of conversations, discussions of strategy and predictions. 

  There’s a clear divide of supportive colors, some people clad in red and other patrons in all black with Miller boxing on the back of their shirts. 

  You’re thankful no one seems to notice you as you mill about searching for that one familiar face you’re hoping is here like he said he would be. 

  You’re taken aback by a promo poster of Ben along the wall. The image of the tall blonde flexing with his arms raised, looking proud as a peacock was definitely a photo you took the other day. Whoever designed the poster did an amazing job at not taking away the raw charm of the original photo. 

  “Admiring your work.” Will steps up next to you, arms crossed as he stares proudly at the photo. 

  “This poster looks pretty good for such a quick turn around.” You told him with a genuine smile. 

  He shrugs his shoulders. “I dabble here and there with photoshop.” 

  He notices you glancing around him, a small smirk gracing his features. “Looking for someone?”

  This isn’t the first time you notice how obnoxiously intuitive he is. “No, just taking in the scenery.” It’s a lie he'll let you get away with for now. 

  “I’m actually glad you’re early, if you don’t mind snapping some shots of Ben in the locker room.” He gestures towards the large double doors across the room. 

  You have to laugh at him. “I don’t mind doing my job, Will. It’s what you hired me for right?” 

  He starts walking and you follow close behind. “Sorry, I’m used to giving orders to men and asking for permission from women.” 

  “Will, please don’t ever apologize for that.” You add before he opens the door stepping aside to usher you in. His presence is so reassuring, it’s dizzying being around men that actually make you feel safe for the first time since you left home. 

  Will whistles and it echoes off the walls in the locker room. Ben glances up from his hands being taped and shoots you a nervous smile. You can tell his attitude is in fight mode, his adrenaline no doubt focused on his opponent. The bouncing, jovial man from the other day is subdued, concentrating on the task in front of him. 

  Your hands instinctively reach for your camera  to capture the pre-fight moments. There’s a woman taping his hands with red hair and strikingly beautiful green eyes. She doesn’t seem to mind as you close in on their space to get a shot of her intricate tape. Ben’s hands shake slightly but he does his best to hold them still. 

  He’s clad in all black shorts and shrugs off the Miller boxing shirt when she’s done taping. He can’t help himself as he turns to you and flexes. 

  “I think this is your signature pose.” You say as he turns to his brother, sending him a look of  ‘I told you so’. 

  “Don’t encourage him.” The woman adds as Will slides up next to her planting a kiss on her cheek. 

  “I think you both forgot why she’s here.” Ben gestures to you. “Yours truly is the main event.” 

  “I don’t know how the other guys gonna fit in the ring with Ben and his ego.” Will and the woman laugh as Ben looks less than amused and you snap a photo, candids being your favorite. 

  “I’m sorry, excuse my manners.” His hand placed gently along her lower back as he ushered her towards you. “This is my wife Amber.” 

  She raises her eyebrows at him as you offer your name and you look slightly confused as Ben scoffs. “I’m his fiancé, but I should be flattered at how eager he is to be my husband.” 

  “Wife has a better ring to it.” He leans in kissing her again and Ben just groans. 

  “They’re like this all the time. It’s obnoxious.” He says with mock disgust. 

  You snap another photo of the intimate moment, since they didn’t protest the first. I think it’s beautiful. 

  ****

  Still no sign of him

  But you can’t think about that right now as Benny prepares to enter the ring. The bright lights surrounding the room and the raucous noise is starting to get to you but you take a few deep breaths and hope you can hold out. 

  Amber and Will are preoccupied on the sideline, hyping Benny up as he sized up his opponent. Who somehow seems two times the size of the young blonde. Something tells you not to underestimate him as the stone cold look washes over his features, making anyone who stands in his path sorely regret it. 

  The crowd roars as the bell signals the start of the fight. Your camera poised and ready with your nerves and excitement swirling in equal measure. If you thought Ben sparring the other day was bad, you were wildly unprepared for the sound of the first blow to his opponent’s face. You wince behind your camera flash as the distinct grunt of a possible broken nose is evident. Ben takes a wide shot to the ribs but he doesn’t falter. Blow after blow and it seems you’re getting more comfortable with the onslaught of violence for some odd reason. 

  Perhaps it’s the way Benny has handled each one or the fact that you’re finally getting the shots you so desperately wanted the other day. He’s actually focused on what’s in front of him and not on you. You can drown out the rest of the noise besides Will's coaching and Ambers cheers of encouragement. The shutter of Andy is all you need. 

  “Sweetheart, you should take my picture.” 

  You recoil at the sweaty palm on your lower back and the pungent smell of cheap liquor invading your senses. It’s no surprise when you turn to see a random man, bloodshot eyes from too many long nights and too much booze. You already knew by the sound of his voice that it wasn’t who you’ve been expecting. 

  “No thanks.” You gesture to your camera. “I’m sort of working here.” 

  You continue to try and focus back on the fight as it seems Benny has him on the ropes and it’s not too long before the other man is going down. 

  He’s closer now, caging you against the ring as his hand threatens to move lower and everyone is too preoccupied to notice that you want to crawl out of your skin. 

  “Come on hun, you don’t have to be bitch.” The last part he practically spits at you and with his opponent keeled over momentarily Benny’s eyes flash to you like a caged animal. 

  You think for a brief moment he might jump over the ropes but he flashes you a wide grin and continues to back up as the ref gestures his hands for the countdown. 

  The pressure is suddenly off you and you feel like you can breathe again, as you whip around to see where he went. “You know you shouldn’t touch women without their permission.” Frankie’s large palm is gripping the man’s shirt as he struggles to get out of his grasp. 

  “Get the fuck off me Morales, I know you’re not gonna hit me.” Frankie's eyes flash to you briefly in worry, a signal that he knows this creep and doesn’t want to be associated with him. 

  Frankie drags him by the collar just out of earshot as he sees you turn back to the fight so as not to miss any important shots. 

  “Listen up Jones.” He grits out through clenched teeth. “You’re gonna get yourself in some real trouble one of these days.”

  “Hey, Morales I didn’t know she was your lady okay.” 

  “She’s not…” He lets out a sigh of frustration. “Just quit fucking around, I can tell you’ve been drinking again. If I don’t see you at a meeting this week I’m gonna throw you into the ring with Ben and see if he can knock some sense into you. Comprende?” 

  He releases him with force as he shrugs his shoulders, trying to smooth out his shirt. “Ya ya, you’ll see me.” 

  Frankie watches the man disappear into the crowd toward the direction of the bar and just shakes his head. You’re still there as the ref signals that Benny won the fight and he shoves his way back through to you on the sideline. 

  There’s a look of relief and something else on your face when you turn to him. 

  “Benny won!” You flash him a bright smile as he laughs to himself. 

  “He always does.” It’s said assuredly and proud as you turn back to the ring. His arms lean protectively on the ropes beside you, careful not to touch you but close enough where no one would try to push you out of the way. 

  You glance down at the monitor to take a deep breath as you feel him behind you. His woodsy cologne mixed with the fresh body wash wafts towards you. That mixed with the fact that he was so instantly protective of you has your head spinning. 

  Trying desperately to focus back on your job you realize the last shot Benny’s slightly blocked by the ropes. You let out a huff of frustration as Frankie leans down close to your ear. 

  “Everything okay hermosa? Is it Andy?” No it’s you

  You close your eyes as you let the deep lull of his voice calm you. The voice you’d waited hours to hear. The one you couldn’t stop thinking about since that first day. 

  “Ya everything is fine.” You laugh to yourself at his genuine concern for your most prized possession. “I just can’t see very well.” 

  He worries his lip hoping he’s not overstepping after your encounter earlier. “I have an idea.” 

  Intrigued, you turn to him as he gestures to the side of the ring. “Step up.” You tilt your head at him and he raises his eyebrows and points to the ledge. 

  “Frankie.” 

  “I promise I won’t let you fall.” You falter for a brief moment, but the crowd cheers as Benny runs around the ring and you can’t waste another shot. 

  He steps up behind you, careful not to touch until you’re ready as you take one hand and hoist yourself up with the rope. Your other hand is securely on your camera. You think you’re fine but the rope gives a little and you start to fall back but the breadth of his shoulders is right behind you as he instructs you to lean on him. 

  Your heart is going to pound out of your chest as you realize how intimately he has you wrapped up. His arms around your thighs hold you steady and yet you can tell he’s doing it with the utmost composure to make you feel comfortable. 

  Benny runs over to you, flexing his arms with his signature pose, coined by you. Your hands still aren’t moving and Frankie nudges you slightly. 

  “I’ve got you.” You sure hope he does for your sake. The way he’s looking at you and holding you right now, you don’t think you’d be able to stand up on your own. 

  You turn back to Benny and snap a few shots of his winning smile. 

  “Fuck me, the flash is on.” You make a few adjustments and disable the automatic flash. The bright lights surrounding the ring provide plenty of light amongst the room. 

  Frankie has to take a few deep breaths, especially when your choice of words has him thinking things he shouldn’t with your body as close to his as it could get. He’s trying to be professional, he did suggest this after all and it would be rude to take advantage of the situation. 

  He can tell you’re relaxing as you go back and forth between glancing at the screen and Benny. Your ass is perched  perfectly along his shoulder as his arms protectively bracket your legs to keep you upright against the ropes. He can smell vanilla and something familiar, even through your jeans which he’s grateful for, if not for them his cheek would be touching the smooth skin on your thigh. 

  The crowd starts to disperse as Will and Amber join Benny in the ring. Benny playfully jumps on his older brother as he shrugs his sweaty body off of him. Despite you not taking any more pictures Frankie still has you wrapped as they come over to join you. Amber sends you a knowing look and your face grows hot as you halfway pretend to look over photos. 

  “So…how did it turn out?” Ben bounds over with a gleam in his eye. Adorned with a few scrapes and bruises but otherwise untouched. 

  He leans on the ropes as you hold out the camera flicking through a few of your favorite shots. His arm draped over you and the sweat and adrenaline is rolling off him. You can’t be too upset, the man just single handedly pummeled his opponent like it was just another day. Frankie swats him playfully to save you from the post fight stench about to seep through your tee shirt. 

  “Sorry, he doesn’t really know what personal space is.” You glance down to Frankie and realize how ironic that statement is coming from the man who's been the closest to you physically in over a year. 

  “Oh shit, she got a perfect shot of me crushing his nose.” Ben jumps up and down as Will sends you a half apologetic look. 

  You’re slightly knocked off kilter as Frankie tightens his grip on you. 

  You look over to see another handsome dark haired man pulling himself up to the ropes next to you. 

  “Who might you be?” His aquiline smile and toned muscles rippled through his shirt as he grips the rope. You recognize him from the photo on the desk but opt to stay silent. Assessment was your strong suit and he seems like the type that likes a challenge. 

  Amber looks like she’s going to say something but doesn’t get the chance as you’re quite literally swept off your feet. Your grip on Frankie’s arm tightens as he pulls you away from the ropes and the sickeningly sweet man beside you. 

  “Relax hermosa, I’ve got you.” He gently sets you down and grabs your hand, pulling you even further from the prying eyes as you try to catch your breath. 

  ****

  Santiago points at you and Frankie as he shrugs his shoulders. Indignation dripping off his features. 

  “Oh, I know he’s frustrated when he’s gone non verbal” Ben teases as he ruffles Santi’s hair. 

  Will sidles up next to his fiancé, wrapping his arms around her as he leans in. 

  “You’re staring at her like a piece of meat babe.” 

  “Sorry.” She hisses under her breath. “It’s just…she would be perfect for the wedding.” 

  “I know, but why don’t we give her some space. Let her get settled in.” He nods his head toward the two of you. “Also maybe give Frankie a chance to ask her out before you ask her to photograph the wedding. It would be awkward if she said no to him.” 

  “How do you know he’s asking her out?” 

  Will lowers his voice as Santiago raises an eyebrow at him, doing his best to pay attention to Ben and eavesdrop. 

  “Look at his stance, he can’t stop moving from one foot to another.”

  “He’s taken his hat off twice.” 

  “Now his hands are in his pockets, and I can almost guarantee he’s sweating.” 

  ****

  You’re not sure what to do as he stares at you. His scent envelopes you even now that you’re apart. 

  Frankie clears his throat awkwardly as he bounces from one foot to another. He’s nervous and you’re not entirely sure why, seeing as though you’d spent the better part of the fight attached to his shoulder. 

  “I ugh…hope this wasn’t too traumatizing for you.” 

  You laugh as you dip your head. “It was definitely eventful. But you made it a lot easier to handle.” 

  He tries to hide his smile as the red creeps up his neck. His obvious nervous tick as he takes off his hat for the second time, running his fingers through his hair. You have the sudden wild urge to do it yourself as you busy your hands with the hem of your shirt. 

  “We usually go out for drinks after his fights to celebrate.” He leaves it open ended as he watches you visibly tense. 

  Shit 

  Shit

  “It’s been a really long day.” Not entirely a lie. 

  You can see his demeanor go from nervous wreck to utter panic and you can’t leave him out on a limb. 

  “Listen Frankie, I have to be honest with you. I don’t drink. I’m not a buzzkill or anything but…”

  “I’m sober.” He doesn’t mean to shout it at you but it comes out all rushed and now he can feel the sweat dripping down his back. “If that changes anything, if not I understand.” Frankie feels like he’s scrambling and realizing how much easier this was when he wasn’t sober. 

  You let out a sigh of relief as you glance to your right at the small audience huddled around the ring. Santiago quickly turns around while Amber and Will do an awful job of seeming interested in the ceiling. Benny flashing you a thumbs up as you chuckle to yourself. 

  “I would love to join you guys, another night maybe. I think I’ve had enough action for one day.” You hope the open ended invitation isn’t completely shutting you off from any chance with Frankie. 

  Every nerve ending in his body is screaming at him to stop but you do something to him that he hasn’t felt in a long time. That small subconscious part of his brain knows if he leaves it like this he may never work up the nerve to say something. 

  “Would you be up for dinner? Maybe sometime next week?” His voice cracks a little at the end like he’s some kind of pubescent boy. If the floor could swallow him whole or Benny could come over and just put him completely out of his misery that might suffice for the next few weeks. 

  You bite your lip, consciously or unconsciously. He doesn’t care either way. Some wild part of his brain wants to reach out and pull it down with the pad of his thumb. 

  “I would love to go to dinner.” 

  Relief floods his features and you have to fight the grin that crosses over your face. 

  “So it’s a date.” 

  Fuck a date. 

  You haven’t been on one of those in ages. 

  “Ya Frankie, it’s a date.” 

  He’s finally stopped fidgeting and he seems so much more confident now that you can really appreciate him. 

  You're both in your own little bubble of flirtation and you could care less who or what’s going on around you. 

  “Would it be okay if I hugged you?” 

  You smile. “I think after how close we were for the last hour it would be weird if you didn’t.” 

  His arms wrap around you instantly and that familiar scent is becoming so comforting for you. You have to fight the urge to deeply inhale as your nose is pressed against his chest. His touch is so delicate and grounding all at once and you fear you’ll grow to associate him with someone safe. 

  Why would that be a bad thing?

  The last time Frankie was this impulsive he got himself into a lot of trouble. This doesn’t quite feel the same as he tries not to inhale the scent of your shampoo as his cheek rests on the crown of your head. The way your body molds perfectly into his. The way he has to gain some level of composure when it comes to you and yet all reason has gone out the window. 

  It’s dizzying when you finally break apart. Your shoulder bag slipped slightly down and he reached over to secure it for you. 

  “Well, I should say bye to everyone.” 

  “I’ll do it on your behalf if you want to make a break for it.” He winks at you and your knees might give out right then and there. 

  Letting out an exasperated sigh. “You’re a lifesaver Francisco.” 

  You wave goodbye to more than a few confused faces and exit the gym to a mostly empty parking lot, inhaling the fresh night air. 

  ****

  “Did she let you down easy?” Benny teases as his brother smacks him on the back. 

  “Yee of little faith gentleman.” Amber says as she directs her attention to Frankie. 

  “As a matter of fact, we’re going on a date next weekend.” 

  Amber squeals and Benny pats his friend in the back as Santiago looks thoroughly annoyed at still being left in the dark. 

  Will's phone pings in his pocket and he pulls it out, the widest shit eating grin plastered on his face. 

  “Our boy is a little rusty.” 

  All heads turn to Will confusion written among their faces. 

  “You’re gonna need her number if you’re gonna take her on a date, Fish.” 

  Okay, so maybe he was a little rusty but he had a date. With you. 

  “Alright boys…and Amber. Let’s get some drinks to celebrate.” Benny jumps over the ropes like it’s nothing and heads toward the locker rooms as the rest of the men follow. 

  “Is someone gonna tell me who she is!?” Santiago yells out to them as they all leave him seemingly in the dark. 

  At least for now, Frankie’s gonna keep you to himself. 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Taglist- @sawymredfox @morallyinept

Next

[l0ngschl0ngking]

return to main masterlist

Welcome to my Pedro Pascal masterlist!

pairings and light summaries are under each fic

fics rated 18+ contain NSFW content -  that means STRICTLY NO MINORS

Happy reading!

I want you to give in 18+

- f!reader. What happens after you find Javier at your doorstep?

Not his type 18+

-f!reader. You are helping at Chucho's ranch and Javier thinks you are still definitely not his type

Work for it 18+

-f!reader. Javier wants you. Plain and simple. You don’t fall for his charm so easily

Hold on tight, sugar 18+

- f!reader. Jack releases the pent up adrenaline he has...on you

Apology won't cut it 18+ 

- f!reader. Tim forgot about your anniversary...how can he makes things right?

Not the person I once knew 18+ 

- f!reader. Past lovers reunite after many years...and then what?

These hands were made for worshipping you 18+

- f!reader.  Frankie wants to show you exactly how much he adores you

Stupid mistakes that need to be fixed 18+ (on hold)

- f!reader. You are finally ready to tell Marcus how you feel…but life takes unexpected turn

I know your body as if it was my own 18+ (on hold)

- f!reader. Max is absolutely obsessed with your tits 

(Met) In the restroom 18+

-f!reader. Dieter looks too good. Good enough that you let him fuck you in the public restroom at Met Gala

[randomagnes0210]

Part one.

Don’t know if anyone needs this,but I had a need to do this.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Not A Day Too Soon [a Frankie x reader fic]

Read on Ao3

My Frankie Morales masterlist

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x you (cishet f!reader)

Warnings: friends to lovers, listening to neighbors having sex, fumbling and awkward cuteness, safe sex, cunnilingus, dick riding, no instant orgasms but frankie blows in secret

Summary: You and Frankie have been friends since you were kids. One night when you're watching a movie, your neighbor has loud, obnoxious sex, and one thing leads to another.

Words: 5,043

Halfway through the movie, the first moan reaches through the wall. You can hear it despite the explosions on the TV screen. At first, you try to ignore it, a little embarrassed before Frankie, who’s next to you on the couch. His warm proximity makes you feel flushed, especially when the moans become shriller.

Eventually, Frankie turns his face from the screen to you.

"Every weekend?"

"Sometimes twice in one night," you sigh. "And I think that's only because he blows super fast."

"Must be good pussy," Frankie jokes, but you catch a tinge of red on his cheekbones. A rhythmical knocking begins, a theatrical "Oh my God!" making you roll your eyes.

"She's faking it."

"How do you know?" Frankie elbows you, and you just shoot him a grimace before turning your attention back to the action movie that you've lost the plot of. Usually, you and Frankie like to watch these disasters, comment and laugh at them, but something's different tonight. It's been different for a while, ever since that time you were out with the guys, and you two were the only ones left at your table in that bar, and then an old rock ballad started to play, and Frankie asked you to dance. It had been fun at first, kind of ironically romantic dancing, but then something happened, and Frankie's hands on you felt different. You choked on your laughter and your heart started to hack its way through your ribcage. Frankie's body smelled so good, looked so good, felt so good against yours, he was familiar and safe because he was Frankie Morales whom you had known all your life, yet he was Frankie Morales, someone completely new, exciting, terrifying. He hummed low as he rocked you slowly around in a circle on the small dancefloor, his hands splayed out on your lower back.

You had loved him since you were kids, but that was when you realized that you were in love with him.

Things had been a little awkward since then, and you hadn't met, just the two of you, in the two or three weeks that had passed. Finally, you wrote in the group chat you had with the guys, asking them to come over for a movie night. Everyone except Frankie had plans, and you were screwed.

And now you're sitting here, referencing to him without words about that one ex of yours who couldn't satisfy you but whose feelings you were so scared of hurting that you faked your orgasm every time. Frankie (and the guys) only knew about it after a drunken night when you had just broken up and was lamenting the fact that you had wasted a year on a guy who couldn't make you cum. Benny, Will, and Santi immediately started to advocate for a rebound fuck, but Frankie had been unusually quiet. You didn't end up in bed with anyone but yourself, and only after hurling your guts out in the bathroom, with Frankie holding your hair.

He has always been there for you.

Another wail from the other side of the wall drowns out the action that you're desperately trying to focus on, and Frankie shakes his head. He turns around on the couch and starts to bang at the wall.

"It's no use," you tell him, ”They only get off on it."

"Pervs."

"I know. Just try to ignore it, they'll be done soon."

Frankie looks at you, a boyish smirk on his face.

"You know what we should do?"

"Yes, daddy, fuck me harder!" your neighbor is spurring her partner, and you groan.

"I shudder to think."

"Get back at them."

"How?" you ask suspiciously. Frankie's face scrunches up in the perfect mockery of an orgasm grimace.

"Oh, baby, oh yeah baby, that's it, take it, take it, good girl...!" His voice is exceptionally deep, and it sounds so ridiculous that you start to laugh.

"Frankie, stop it, that's so off-putting!"

"That's the point," he winks before continuing: "Such a good girl, taking my cock like that, oh, yes, yes...!"

He gestures at you to join in, but you're shaking your head vigorously, holding back your laughter.

"No!"

"Come on, you already know how to fake it!"

"Oh yeeees, fuck, YES!!!"

"Asshole!" You shove him roughly, yet with laughter bubbling out of you. Frankie is laughing too, just as the couple on the other side of the wall knock their symphony of creaking and screaming up a notch.

"You're right," Frankie tuts disapprovingly, "she's totally faking it."

"Told you."

You turn back towards the TV with no idea what's going on in the movie. Something about 12 hours to stop a nuclear apocalypse. Or racing cars for money? You don't know anymore. Jason Statham is in it, at least, you recognize him. And that woman... that's... um...

Frankie's hand is on your thigh, and it's making it very hard for you to concentrate.

"Abejita?" That's his nickname for you since you were teenagers. Little bee. Because you were always shorter than him, loved a pair of yellow-and-black-striped pants for years, and wasn't afraid to throw fists when provoked.

You hum to show him you're listening, but keep your eyes fixed on the TV.

"You think we can do better?"

You swallow as you blush, your skin tingling. The woman next door wails.

"What do you mean?" you murmur throatily, your tongue suddenly too thick for your mouth. Frankie clears his throat, suddenly just as bashful as you are.

"I mean... um... fuck, that was a bad way to put it..."

"What?"

"That I love you."

For some reason, you can't look at him, so you keep staring at Jason Statham shooting people left and right. The sex on the other side of the wall goes on, and hearing that in this situation is, frankly, absurd.

Frankie's hand is still burning on your thigh.

"Did I ruin it now?" he asks in a whisper that you can barely hear. You finally tear yourself away from the screen, and meet his hesitating, warm brown eyes. God, his eyes are so amazing. How have you never seen them before?

You wet your lips.

"I... I don't know, I... Frankie..."

"Should I go?" His hand finally comes away from your thigh, and you feel bereft of something vital to your existence.

"No..."

"We've been friends forever, but I..." he stumbles over his words, pauses, tries to make a point. "I've always loved you, you know that, but I... think of you all the time, I miss you when I'm shipped out, I keep comparing other women to you but none of them are you... and when we danced that time..."

Your brain starts to scream at you to kiss him, to tell him that you love him too, but suddenly you're thinking of all the things that could go wrong, so you stay in a terrible limbo where you can only listen to him rambling.

"And I know this isn't how I should've told you, I should've asked you out, or at least asked if I could finally kiss you, I've wanted to kiss you for so long, but instead I made it sound like all I wanted was sex, and..."

"You want to kiss me?" you blurt out, and Frankie finally shuts up. He stares at you, mouth open, still for a moment before nodding slowly. Your stomach twists, and a warmth spreads in you while you also shiver.

"I want to kiss you," he confirms hoarsely but surely. You swallow.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"What... what does that mean? Can I... or do you want to... Okay?"

You bark a nervous laugh. "Kiss me."

He immediately scoots closer, his warmth and scent overpowering you as he gently places his hand on your cheek. He may take that step, but you're the one to press you lips to his for the kiss that you yourself have thought about for longer than you care to admit.

You've kissed him countless times, always on the cheek, sometimes your lips barely touching, sometimes it's been a loud smack. He's done the same to you, but you've never kissed him like this: slow, tentative, sweet, and arousing in its gentle exploration. Your hand lands softly on his broad shoulder as you lean in, your chest brushes against his and Frankie slides his hand to the back of your neck where he cups you carefully, not forcing you into him but keeping you where you are, like if he's afraid that you'll run away. He tastes good, a little buttery from the popcorn both of you ate, a hint of beer from the glass he hasn't touched much. His lips are surprisingly soft, the lower one plump and lovely as it puckers against your lips, the little patch of facial hair just underneath it scratchy in a titillating way.

The couple next door come to an impressive finish, after which it turns eerily quiet despite Jason Statham running away from another explosion on screen. And you think that this is ridiculous. What the hell are you doing here kissing Frankie?

You sit back, biting into your lower lip, eyes cast down as you try to slow down your wildly beating heart, and make sense of your thoughts.

"You okay?" Frankie asks. You hear the worry in his voice, and you clear your throat.

"I think... it would be best if you left, Frankie."

You force yourself to sound practical and unperturbed, but you're really not so sure about this as you seem. Frankie looks confused but gentleman as he is, he rises from the couch.

"Okay?"

"I'm sorry," you say, putting on a brave smile. "I just don't think it's a good idea."

He nods but doesn't hide his devastation.

"I'm sorry, too," he offers before quickly setting off for the front door and leaving without another word.

You are left sitting alone on your couch, the stupid movie still playing before you. Annoyed, you grab the remote and turn the TV off. The silence is almost deafening, but then you hear Frankie's truck start outside, and drive away.

Even when upset, Frankie drives evenly, economically. He always impresses you with his level-headedness.

You get up, take the popcorn bowl and your half empty beers to the kitchen, and dispose of them. You then start to wash the dishes, but that feels like a stupid thing to do after having broken someone's heart.

Why would you let someone like Frankie go? What the hell are you afraid of?

You walk up to the living-room window and look out, as if expecting to see Frankie's truck still outside on the parking lot, which it of course isn't. Before you know it, you're holding your phone, having tapped open Frankie's number.

He picks up after one signal.

"Frankie," you immediately say, "please come back."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, I'm a dumb bitch, you have to come back."

"Making a U-turn as we speak."

"And Frankie..."

"Yeah?"

You blush a little, thinking of the contents - or lack - of your bedside table drawer.

"Could you... pick up condoms?"

You're pretty sure you can hear him gulp.

"7-11 coming up. I'll be back in ten."

You hang up, and nine minutes later, you hear Frankie's truck again. This time he's in a hurry: moments later, when you open the door and find him waiting outside, he's panting. You step back and let him in, and he cups your face, searching your eyes.

"Are you sure this time?" he asks breathlessly. Your smile is slightly trembling, not from uncertainty, but from hurry and nerves.

"I am."

He kisses you with dry, tender lips, tasting and testing, like you never kissed less than half an hour ago. As you start to melt into him, you can't help but smile. Eventually, Frankie pulls back and looks at you, a smile playing on his own lips.

"What?"

"I'm just... happy," you tell him, your smile growing wide as your stomach fills with butterflies. "It's silly, I know, but..."

"It's not silly," he shakes his head. "I'm really happy too. I've wanted this for a long time, sweetheart."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You kiss him again before taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom. His smile dies down a little when he looks from you to the bed, but you see that he's only revering the situation.

"You sure?" he asks in a low voice. You blush a little.

"Did you bring rubbers?"

"I did." He pats his pocket. You kiss him again and start to unbutton his denim shirt.

"I'm sure."

You help each other get undressed, stumbling over pants legs and giggling breathlessly between kisses as you catch each other from falling. Frankie was always a safe space for you but now his warm, broad embrace feels even more like home, but in a new, exciting way. For each kiss and garment that gets discarded on the floor, you grow more secure and less nervous, and by the time you're in your underwear, you're straddling him on the bed, more confident than ever. Frankie wets his lips, his eyes fixed on your chest as you reach behind your back to unhook your bra. He's already hard underneath you but when he sees your tits released from the bra cups, it's like he swells up another size.

"Abejita..."

"Isn't it a little weird for you to use that name in bed?" you tease him. "You've called me that since we were fourteen."

"And what makes you think I haven't hoped for this since then?" he replies, reaching up to cup your tits. You let out a little moan when his thumbs brush over your hardening nipples.

"Have you?"

Frankie searches your face, hesitating a little. You close your fingers loosely around his wrists, suddenly wary.

"You haven't waited for this for years, have you?" you whisper. "While we both were dating other people? You didn't wait for me while you were planning to spend the rest of your life with Gloria? Because that's just sad."

He shakes his head. "No, not then... but for a couple of years, maybe. I don't know, sweetheart, but you've always been there for me when those relationships crashed, especially after Gloria, and maybe I just hoped, for a second..."

"Yeah," you nod, "I know."

You move your hands over his, guiding his fingers to sink into the flesh of your breasts, and Frankie exhales in a sigh at your softness. The next sound to come out of him is a hissed moan when you rub yourself against his hard length.

"Baby," you pleads, thumbs brushing over your nipples. "Christ, you're beautiful. I want you so much."

"I can tell," you grin, leaning into his hands as yours come down to his chest to support you in slowly dragging your still clad but drenched apex along the hard outline of his cock in his boxers. You've caught glimpses of that bulge through the years, but never really thought about it in that way before. It was Frankie, your best friend, and he was a man, so he had a dick, there was nothing weird about that. Now you wonder how you managed to stay so cool about it: the mere size of it is enough to make you clench in anticipation.

"I want you too," you tell him before getting up on your knees, and pulling down his boxers. His cock springs free, thick and veiny, the head glistening with precum as it strains upwards towards his stomach.

"Oh," you hear yourself say, in a weird tone. Frankie laughs nervously.

"Not big enough?"

"Oh shut up..." You slap him gently on the thigh, enjoying how his whole body trembles at the impact, and then help him kick off the boxers before you settle over his thighs again. Frankie bites into his lower lip as you regard his cock like you're unsure how to attack it.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to take this," you eventually confess with a wry smile that makes Frankie relax.

"I'll help you, I promise. And if you can't... well, that's fine too."

"I want to."

"Me too, but let's take on thing at a ti- mmmohmygod..."

The sounds you conjure out of the man underneath just by taking a hold of his cock and pumping it a couple of times are intoxicating. He stares at you, mesmerized, as you use both hands to stroke him.

"Sweetheart... abejita... Christ, don't embarrass me by making me blow too soon..."

"I have faith that you'll last longer than the guy next door," you tease him, and Frankie groans, covering his face with his hands.

"Thanks for reminding me, that's so off-putting."

You chuckle huskily but you're really quite nervous about how to fit this monster inside you. You don't know how, but Frankie seems to pick up on it. Sitting up, he brings you against his chest, making you let go of him.

"We'll do fine," he tells you in a low voice. "I'll make sure you're wet enough."

Your cunt bottoms out at how low his voice drops, and you lick your lips.

"I'm pretty wet already."

"I'll get you wetter."

There's a quiet confidence in his voice that you recognize as something so quintessentially, faithfully, wonderfully Frankie. Gently, he lays you down and kisses you, moaning low into your mouth when you comb your fingers through his hair. Jesus, how have you never heard him moan before? What took you so goddamn long?

"Can I go down on you?" he whispers, and you clench again. "I really wanna go down on you, baby, I wanna make you feel good."

"Yes, please, Frankie!" You pull him to you for a desperate kiss before you push him down your body, catching his grin as he trails little kisses over your tits and stomach.

"Let me know how I'm doing, okay, sweetheart?"

"So far, so good..."

You had gathered from the banter between the guys, and from some of Frankie's more outspoken exes, that he knew his way around giving oral, but you're still nervous. Or maybe you're nervous because you know he's supposed to be good, or maybe you're just nervous.

Frankie must sense the tension in your thigh, because he looks up at you.

"Is this okay?"

You nod quickly, but he props himself up on his elbows.

"If you're not into this..."

"I am," you blurt out, "it's just... a little weird, okay? An hour ago you were my best friend, and now you're about to lick my pussy?"

He laughs at that, and you catch a twinge of nerves from him as well. That makes you feel more at ease.

"The two are not mutually exclusive," he points out, and you smile sheepishly.

"I really want it, Frankie."

"And you'll have it."

You knew, you had your suspicions, but holy fucking shit, you were not prepared for the onslaught of his tongue and lips. It doesn't take you long to reach the same volumes your neighbor was performing at earlier, but you're definitely not faking it, Frankie's making sure of that.

And maybe that's the problem: that you sound just like your neighbor's date, and that Frankie is trying so hard to conjure the most depraved sounds from you. No matter how good it feels, how devoted he is between your legs, how long he keeps at it, you don't feel any closer to orgasm than you did when he first started. After an embarrassingly long time, you draw a deep breath.

"Frankie...?" Your voice is trembling from pleasure, and Frankie replies with only a hum against your wet folds. You stroke your hand over his hair and give him a little nudge.

"Frankie... please, you need to stop."

His head pops up immediately, chin glistening obscenely.

"You okay?" he wants to know, crawling up to gently cup your cheek. You immediately put your hand over his to take it away before he has a chance to notice how hot your cheek is.

"Yeah, I just... I don't think I can climax," you mumble. His brows knit in concern.

"Was I doing something wrong? Was I too rough?"

"Jesus Christ, Frankie, no!" you hurry to reassure him, terrified to make him feel bad. He so easily puts all the world's worries on his own shoulders.

"You did perfectly, I just, it's a weird situation, I mean, I want this, but it's just..." You try desperately to find the right word. "It's sudden. It happened so quickly."

"Too quickly?" he asks quietly. Now it's your turn to cup his cheek.

"No," you tell him with conviction, your thumb caressing his scratchy cheek. "It wasn't quick enough, we waited for way too long."

The dimple in his cheek appears when he smiles. "I'd want for you to cum."

"It's okay, you can make it up to me later."

"I like that..." He dips down to kiss you, and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. His hard cock is wedged between the two of you and there is nothing you want more than for him to fuck you, orgasm or not.

"I want you, you tell him breathlessly between the kisses. "Stop asking if it's okay, it's more than okay."

He chuckles, and props himself up to look around for his pants, finding them on the floor. He smacks a kiss onto your lips before crawling to the edge of the bed for them.

"Don't move."

You giggle and slap his ass, grinning cheekily when he turns to glare at you.

"I always thought you have a cute ass," you defend yourself, and Frankie shakes his head as he looks for the condoms in his pants pocket.

"My pancake ass."

He returns to you with the pack of rubbers, a slight tinge on his cheekbones.

"I'll put in implants if you want me to," he jokes, but you shake your head vigorously.

"Are you crazy? I love your pancake butt. Don't you dare do anything to that perfection."

"Much obliged."

You sit up and help him roll on the condom, using that as an excuse to get to touch his thick dick again. Frankie sits back and exhales in a low moan.

"God, baby... your hands feel so good on me... can't wait to be inside you."

"If I can take it." You're only half joking. He kisses you sweetly.

"I know you can."

It's a tight fit, that's for sure. He inches into you so very slowly, but it's still almost too much.

"It's too big," you whimper, delirious from the stretch. Frankie groans.

"Sweetheart, that's just the head."

"Fuck."

"Just relax, you can take it, I know you can."

Frankie's right, of course. When he's finally sheathed in you, both of you are breathing in shallow gulps, and Frankie's forehead is covered by a thin sheet of sweat.

"You okay?" he asks hoarsely. You run your hands up his sides.

"Yeah, I'm good, but Jesus that's big."

He preens a little, but you can tell he's concerned for you.

"It's okay, Frankie," you assure him, wrapping your legs around his thighs. "It's okay, I'm good, you're good."

He swears in another moan and it's the sexiest sound you've ever heard. Your hands come to his buttocks and push down.

"Fuck me," you ask him, and he starts to move almost immediately. You moan loudly as his veiny cock drags through your slick walls. Frankie kisses your breath away while he himself struggles for air, staying up on his elbows as he ruts into you, meticulously and steadily, like he does everything else. God, you could just melt underneath him, but instead you hold onto him, surrender your kisses to him, and listen to him rambling on about how good you feel and how crazy you make him. It takes you a little while to realize that he's speaking Spanish. You kiss his sweaty forehead and whimper when he slips out.

"Frankie...!"

"I know, abejita, I know, but I'm just trying to make it last," he pants, scattering little kisses all over your face. "I want it to last forever."

Your heart swells, and you swallow hard. "We got time, Frankie."

"I know, I just want it to be special."

"It is special."

He covers your mouth with his but the kiss is brief: he's too out of breath. You reach down between the two of you to find him and nock him at your entrance again before rubbing your clit with two fingers. As Frankie resumes his sweet pace, you clench hard and throw your head back.

"Goddddd, Frankie...!"

"Fuck, you're tight like this..."

"I need you to go harder!"

He complies immediately with a growl, and it sets off a pull in you as you rub your clit furiously. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath is hot on your skin as he does his best to keep thrusting, but when you whimper More, harder, faster he grabs hold of you and rolls around, settling you on top. You sink down on him, gasping as his impressive inches invade you, but then Frankie pulls you down over him, making you hover just an inch or two above him, and starts to thrust up into you desperately. You shout in pleasure and surprise at the desperate bucking, the way his cock assaults you, so demanding in its hardness and size, yet not enough, you need more, you need him inside you for the rest of the night.

He’s huffing out your name with every breath, blending it with curses and blessings alike in moaned cries as he holds onto you like he’s never going to let go. His chest is slippery with sweat but you still press your tits against it, desperate to keep all of you connected to all of him, and when you cover his mouth with yours for a sloppy kiss, he doesn’t stop rambling but lets you swallow every word of praise along with the kiss.

For a moment it’s so fantastic that you feel like you’re in a movie, like this isn’t happening for real, it can’t, this can’t be you friend Frankie underneath you fucking you like it’s his only mission in life, this isn’t you riding his big dick until you’re howling. Your pussy tightens and heats up in the first sweet signs of an orgasm, and you sit up, slamming Frankie’s pelvis to the mattress as you ride him frantically, hands slipping on his chest until you sit up straight and try to manage without support. Frankie immediately grabs your hands, fingers interlocking with yours, and provides the brace you need to ride yourself home.

When the orgasm finally comes to steal you away, Frankie’s there to keep you anchored to him. It’s not the best one you’ve had in your life; it’s rather short and explosive, but it feels complete in a very satisfying way. Your chest meets Frankie’s, two frenzied hearts beating in unison, as you try to catch your breath, sweat plastering your hair over your face. When you’ve come down enough to move, your hips are sore and your pussy even sorer, and you inelegantly slide down from Frankie  onto your side and try to comb the hair away from your face. Frankie helps you, a dreamy smile curving his lips up.

“That was wild,” he mumbles, and you giggle a little awkwardly.

“I don’t know what came over me.”

“Whatever it was, it certainly came.”

“Oh, haw-haw…”

He presses his dry lips to yours, effectively silencing any further protests, before sitting up with a groan and taking off the condom. You don’t know why it is so embarrassing, but you blush a little when you look at the now sad-looking rubber with white goo at the tip.

“When did you cum?” you blurt out, and Frankie chuckles as he ties the condom and gets up to dispose of it.

“Almost the minute you got on top, sweetheart.”

You give up a small laugh, the tension eases a little, and you ogle his ass when he walks out of the bedroom. When he returns, you’ve kicked the covers to side and have made room for him next to you.

“No regrets?” he asks you as he pulls you to his sweaty body. You kiss the tip of his sharp nose.

“None at all. I love you, Frankie. I’m in love with you.”

The lamp light reflects in his eyes as his swallows. “I love you, too, abejita. I can’t believe this really happened.”

“We can make it happen again,” you tease, pinching his nipple to make him groan. “Just need to recover a little.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he murmurs, threading his fingers through your hair and finding your lips for a long, sweet kiss.

A creak travels from the other side of the wall to your bedroom, and after that, a rhythmic thumping. Then, a loud moan. Frankie lifts his head from the pillow and stares at the wall, a frown knitting his brows together. He then looks quizzically at you.

"I told you," you giggle, "Sometimes twice in one night."

"Can't have that,” he shakes his head. “We need to top that. Get ready for two more times, gorgeous.”

“I don’t think I can take that cock three times in one night,” you grin, but you’re already feeling a surge between your legs.

“We’ll train hard,” Frankie promises with a leer that makes you want to start already.

“Other neighbors are gonna start to complain. We’re all gonna get evicted.”

“You can move to my place,” he volunteers readily. “You can move in tomorrow if you want to, baby, I love you and I want to be with you all the time.”

The woman next door wails, and you blush a little because you know you must have sounded like her only a while ago.

"If my neighbor doesn't dump her soon, I just might come and live with you.”

“The sooner the better,” Frankie tells you, and pulls the covers over both of you to make a cocoon for only the two of you.

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 17 **

Not much to say about this chapter, we're going deeper into the QZ with our sweet Frankie and his girl, some complications arise and they get some news about their friends. I hope you enjoy! Please reblog and comment if you like it, I love hearing your thoughts!

Series master list

Warnings contains spoiler, but please read if you need to because this series will contain some difficult subjects.

Word count: 9.1k

Chapter 18

Time in the quarantine area moves slowly. Once you’ve figured out the routine of showering early in the morning, before the water runs out, and when the best time is to collect your rations for the day, there’s not much else going on. Frankie gets extra rations, as promised by the captain who vetted him, and he shares them with you, even trading some of his rations to get you a chocolate bar which he hands over with a happy grin. The food rations are small and you don’t know if it’s because there’s not enough food, or because they’re just not prepared to feed you much.

You sometimes talk to the woman who has the bunk bed across from you in tent five, her name is Annie, and she’s come from the QZ in Austin, she’s been transferred over to Franklin because she’s a nurse. She tells you the military in the Austin QZ always had enough food but made sure the population only had just enough to not starve.

“They said it’s because they don’t know when food production will be up and running again, it all depends on when they find a cure for this infection.” 

“Are they getting close?” you ask as you light the small portable gas stove in the tent and heat up yours and Frankie’s rations, two bags of freeze dried chicken alfredo from a hiking food supplier.  

“I don’t know,” she sighs, “there are so many rumors going around, no one seems to know for sure what they’re doing.” She kneels next to you, putting her own rations on the stove. “And of course, so many people were lost in the first few weeks, before we really understood what was going on. A nurse came to Austin from Seattle, she’d been transferred to us because she specialized in anesthesiology and we still had supplies and equipment for that. She thinks the first outbreak was at the Lakehill Seattle Hospital where she worked. She was called into work on Thursday morning but when she got there she was told to go home, the hospital had already put itself in quarantine.” Annie stirred the plastic spoon through her soup as you pull your chicken alfredo off the stove. “That was twenty four hours before the rest of the country started noticing anything and the hospital lost almost all of their staff in that time.” 

“When you were in Austin, did you ever run into a couple of brothers called Joel and Tommy Miller?” you ask. “Joel has a daughter called Sarah. All three of them are from Austin.” 

“I think I met a guy called Tommy Miller just before I left, a blonde guy in his thirties?” Annie asks. 

“Yeah, that’s right.” you nod, smiling at Frankie as he walks into the tent and over to the stove. 

“Hey, cariño,” he says as he sinks down on a crate next to you, dropping a quick kiss on the top of your head. 

“I think Tommy had a brother in the QZ, but I never met him, and I don’t know about a girl.” Annie shakes her head as you pass the bowl of pasta to Frankie. 

“That reminds me, Annie, do you know if there’s any way of looking for people inside the QZ, once we’re out of quarantine?” 

“In Austin there was a notice board in the administration center, people put signs up, they might have something similar here.” 

“I hope so,” you sigh and Frankie reaches over and squeezes your hand, “we have friends and family we haven’t heard anything from since the outbreak.” 

Annie looks over at you both before she drops her gaze back to the stove and her rations, “Don’t get your hopes up, most of us never find anyone again.” Her voice is laced with grief and you don’t ask her anything more. 

Frankie and you eat your rations in silence as you lean closer to his solid shoulder, resting your head against it. When you’re both done he pulls you down onto the narrow bunk bed, his back against the rest of the tent and you tucked in under his arm under the blanket. It’s the only way you can have some privacy in the tent and you relish the time you have with him like this before you both drift off to sleep. Frankie lets his fingers trace small circles on your skin, soothing you as much as it calms him too. Sometimes you talk in whispers, mostly about how you’re going to navigate this new world, but sometimes about your life before the outbreak. Frankie makes you giggle in hushed tones when he re-tells the story of how he first spotted you across the bar, how Pope had pretended he was going to go up to you if Frankie didn’t have the balls to do it, the guys comments when they first spotted you. It makes your heart ache, remembering the four of them huddled at the corner of the bar, all except Frankie, grinning at you. Frankie with his embarrassed smile trying to hide under the bill of his cap as he fiddled with his drink. 

“I know I turned you down when you asked for my number, but I regretted it almost straight away,” you admit, “you looked so shy and sweet when you went back to the guys.” 

“You broke my heart in two seconds, cariño,” You can hear the smile in his voice even though he’s whispering. “Not even Pope wanted to rib me about it when I got back to them, I still don’t know how I could fall so fast for you,” his arm tightens around you, “your smile got me straight away.” 

You giggle softly, turning your head so that you can reach his mouth with your lips. “For me it was the way you rubbed the back of your neck when you got shy, those big, puppy eyes looking all lost and sad, I couldn’t resist.” 

“If I’d known I would've used them more,” Frankie chuckles as his lips brush over yours. “Go to sleep now, hermosa, only two more days in here.” 

The next morning you wake up before Frankie for once, he’s tucked in against you, snoring lightly in such a deep sleep you don’t have the heart to wake him. He’d woken you up a couple of times in the night when his nightmares got the better of him, and you know it took him a while to get back to sleep. Gently you slip from under his arm and climb out of the bunk, pulling on your boots and a hoodie. Since you’d arrived with only one change of clothes you’d been given some spare clothes, including a bright orange hoodie that made you feel like a traffic cone. You make your way over to the communal bathrooms and then the cantina to grab coffee for both of you. There’s already a line forming and you listen to two women your own age talk about the possibility of staying in Franklin or if it’s better to chance it, and go to another QZ. Transferring between QZ’s seems to be easy, the hard part is getting yourself to the new QZ without dying. Their conversation turns to all the gruesome ways they’ve heard of people dying on the outside and you’re grateful when they finally get their coffees and leave. You get two coffees for you and Frankie, smiling a thank you to the lady handing them out and head back to the tent.

You’re just a couple of tents away from tent five when the screaming starts.It's coming from the tent next to you and suddenly a man comes crashing out from under the tent flap. You let out a yelp as you’re knocked over, the coffee mugs tumble to the ground as you lose your footing and fall flat on your back, the hard smack to the ground knocking the wind out of you. You’re gasping for air as more screams come from inside the tent and people are suddenly running, scrambling to get away. With a chill you recognise the inhuman screech that’s tearing through the air and you force your legs to work, your lungs to pull in air again. 

“Get up! Get up, cariño! Run!!” You hear Frankie roaring and out of the corner of your eye you see him sprinting towards you. The tent flap flies open and a man you recognise from the early morning shower queue barrels out, tendrils creeping under his skin, his lifeless eyes fixed on you. He’s fast, faster than you’re prepared for and before you can get upright, he’s on you, his teeth bared and snapping. You get your arms up just in time, his teeth missing your wrist by half an inch as you push against his throat. Deafening gunshots ring out, making you scream, and the man slumps down on you, twitching as you try to hold his weight off you, you’re gasping, crying in panicked gulps. Suddenly Frankie is above you, yanking the man away from you, tossing him to the side as if he weighs nothing and turning to you, kneeling down. 

“Are you hurt, did he bite you? Cariño, answer me!” Frankie is frantically running his hands over your exposed skin, pulling down the neckline of your hoodie as you try to calm yourself enough to check if you’re ok. 

“Step away from her immediately!” a soldier barks from behind the fence, “Sir, step away from her!” 

Frankie’s eyes snap up at the soldier's tone, his rifle is aimed at you and Frankie scrambles to his feet, putting himself between you and the soldier. 

“She has no bite marks, she’s clean,” he calls back, his hands held up to placate the soldier, who’s now joined by three more, all of them with their rifles aimed at you both. 

“She’s been exposed, step away from her.” 

You’re still sitting on the ground and now you turn slowly to look over at the soldiers, all four are lined up behind the fence, rifles trained at you with Frankie trying to cover you with his body. 

“You can’t shoot her!” he yells, taking a step back so that he’s almost standing over you, “she hasn’t been bitten, he didn’t get her!” 

“She needs to go into solitary quarantine and be examined, step away from her, sir. Now!” 

Frankie looks over his shoulder at you, you can feel tears streaming down your face, your hands are shaking from shock and he moves as if to crouch down and touch your cheek and the soldier barks again. 

“Sir! You need to step away from her now! She will be taken to solitary quarantine for two weeks. We need to make sure she is clean and contained.” 

“It’s...it’s ok, F-Frankie,” you stutter, “I’ll be ok.” 

Frankie’s eyes squeeze shut as he knots his eyebrows together like he’s in pain. 

“Can I go with her?” he asks, turning back to the soldier. “Please, she’s my fiancée.” 

“No, for your safety, and everyone else's, she has to go into solitary quarantine for two weeks.”

You get to your feet, still shaking from the adrenaline and shock, “I have to go, Frankie, it’s just two weeks, I’ll be fine.” He knows from your voice that you’re scared, terrified, but you’re swallowing back your panic, trying to stand straight and be confident, tell yourself as much as him, that you’re fine. With pained eyes he looks back at you, reaching out to touch your face before you have to go but the soldier barks; 

“Don’t touch her, back away! Don’t make me tell you again!” and Frankie drops his hand and you take a couple of steps away from him, your eyes still on him with tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“Come with us,” the first soldier calls to you and motion with his rifle for you to follow them along the fence. 

You give Frankie a final look, “I love you, Frankie, stay safe.” 

“Te amo, cariño, I’ll come see you if they let me. I’ll figure it out, I promise, I’ll be waiting when you come back.” His dark eyes are fraught with anxiety as he looks at you, he can see your hands shaking. 

You nod and turn to follow the soldiers, glancing back at him over your shoulder. Everyone in the quarantine area backs away from you as you walk with the soldiers back to where you first came in. They take you through a gate to a smaller area you’ve never seen before, a few enclosures with a small tent set up inside each one. All the other enclosures are empty and you’re guided to the first one. One of the soldiers locks the gate behind you and leaves. You pull off your hoodie as they turn their backs, shivering in the cold air with only your t-shirt on, but you scan every inch of your skin that you can see.There are no marks on you, as far as you can tell, no blood, and nothing hurts as you run your fingers over your neck where the man’s teeth snapped so close. Your wrists and arms are clean too and  you allow yourself to breathe a small sigh of relief while you wait. The adrenaline is wearing off and you sink to the ground with your back against the fence, your legs suddenly weak. The cold winter air raises goose bumps on your bare arms but you don’t have the energy to move.

It takes over two hours, but the doctor finally turns up, a different one this time, together with two soldiers. He tells you to take all clothes off except your underwear and then, turning slowly in front of him, he carefully looks you over, asking you to pull down your bra and expose your breasts too. You shudder as you do it, the leering look in his eyes too indicative of why he’s taking extra time looking at your bare chest. Finally he lets you cover up and beckons you over to the hole in the fence, pressing the scanner to your skin, it blinks green.  “Why do you have to do the ocular examination if you can just scan me?” you ask, angry at being forced to stand in the cold air with his greedy eyes on you. 

“The scanners are experimental, still in the testing phase and we don’t trust them completely yet. As you saw yourself just now, the infection is sneaky and can get past us even if we check every one that we let in.” He motions over to your clothes inside the tent, “You can get dressed, it seems you were lucky but we’re quarantining you for two extra weeks just to be safe.” 

You get dressed and go sit on the single bunk inside the tent. There are no supplies, only a small oil lamp and a gas stove, like the one in tent five. After a couple of hours a soldier comes over with your box of supplies and slides them through the small opening in the fence. 

“Can my fiancé come and see me while I’m here if he’s outside the fence?” you ask and the soldier shakes her head.

“No visitors, we can’t risk anything.” she says and leaves, giving you a short nod. 

Sighing you take the box into the small tent, unpacking it slowly. As you do, you realize Frankie’s must’ve been the one who’s packed it. He’s added extra rations, his own rations, to the box, the thickest blanket, one of his flannel shirts and a hastily scribbled note tucked into it. The shirt smells like him and you fold it up, putting it down as a pillow on your new bunk before you lie down to read his note.

Hermosa, fuck, you scared me! My heart stopped when I saw that man charge at you, but I think you’re ok. I couldn’t see any marks on you and you fought him off like a champion! Benny will be proud when we finally get a chance to tell him, whenever that will be. But when we’re together again I’m going to start training you so that you know how to defend yourself, throw a punch properly at least. I should’ve done it months ago but I was too wrapped up in myself to think of it. 

“And with good reason, Frankie” you say to yourself as you smile, you can hear his voice in your head as you read. 

I asked and I can’t come see you, but I’ll get everything sorted for us when I leave quarantine tomorrow so that you don’t have to worry about anything when you get out. I’ll be at the gate waiting for you, I’ll be the one with a goofy grin yelling “cariño.” Stay safe, mi amor, te amo para siempre, mi prometida. 

Frankie 

You fold the letter and put it in your back pocket, and lie back down, wishing you could write a letter back to him. The prospect of two weeks in quarantine didn’t seem so bad when you first came here, you’d be with Frankie at least. Now, the idea of spending two weeks alone, not being able to even talk to him, scares you. And there’s nothing here to distract you. You stare up at the canvas above the bunk, trying to calm your nerves, breathing in and out. 

You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re not infected, you’ll see Frankie in two weeks, he’ll be there waiting for you. Just think of this as a silent retreat, a really shitty, low budget retreat. 

Frankie tucks the note in at the bottom of the box before the soldier comes to pick it up. Outwardly he’s calm, but his hand flies up every minute to rub the back of his neck, and he can’t stop moving. He’s pacing back and forth through the quarantine area, drawing odd looks from the other inhabitants. There aren’t that many people in quarantine anymore, over the past two weeks most people have left and not that many have arrived. And almost everyone had seen him sprinting at her, yelling for her to run and then seen how he’d frantically searched her skin for any mark. The soldiers had deemed that he hadn’t been anywhere near the infected man before he was shot, but it seems the inhabitants would rather be safe than sorry. They all give him a wide berth.

In his head, his mind swirls while he paces back and forth. The scene plays inside him over and over; He heard the screams and ran out of the tent, he’d just gotten his boots on, and the first thing he saw was her on the ground, right by the source of the screams. His only instinct had been to get her away from there but the infected man came hurling out of the tent and went right for her and Frankie couldn’t run fast enough. In his mind he sees the man jerk as the bullets from the soldiers rip into him and the fear that nearly stopped his heart when he didn’t know if they’d hit her too or not. 

His mind starts to spiral and he clenches his fists to stop his hands from trembling. 

I can’t even keep her safe in here. 

He’s stopped at the end of the quarantine area, at the end of the row of tents, holding on to the chain link fence with both hands, nausea is creeping up his throat as he sees the man attack her again and again and again in his head. He squeezes his eyes shut to stop the dizziness that suddenly has him in its grip. 

C’mon, Morales, you know what this is, just a panic attack, just breathe. Just breathe, man. In and out, in a square. She’s safe, you know she is. You saw nothing on her. She’s safe and in two weeks you’ll see her. Just fucking breathe like the therapist taught you.

He forces himself to breathe in and out, following the square shape in his head. Finally he feels the nausea recede, the overwhelming urge to throw up passes and he can stand up straight again, looking up at the pale blue winter sky over the quarantine area. He’s still breathing deeply, forcing his pulse to drop. Eventually he lets go of the chain link fence and slowly walks back to the tent. It’s going to be two long weeks. 

The days are unbearably long in your solitary quarantine. You have no books or games to entertain yourself with so you fall into a stupor and sleep most of the time. Or try to sleep, you haven’t slept without Frankie curled around you for months, over a year. His warm body has been present in your bed, or bunk, since you moved in with him. And especially in the past few months, it’s been more important than ever to have him close at night, for you as much as for him. You lay on your uncomfortable bunk, flat on your back and stare at the canvas, thinking about him, willing him to sleep calmly even if you’re not there. The thought of him waking up with his nightmares, worse than ever, makes you chew on your bottom lip, you wish you could at least talk to him. Pain shoots through your lip as you bite down too hard and the taste of iron fills your mouth. 

You’ll draw blood, hermosa. 

Frankie’s voice is clear in your mind, you can feel the way his thumb would tug your lip from between your teeth as he looked at you with a small smile. With a sigh you close your eyes and roll over on your side, trying to feel Frankie’s arms around you as you drift off to sleep again. 

When you have the energy, you walk endless circles around the enclosure. Your one break in the monotony is when a soldier brings you your rations once a day. It’s almost always the same woman, the one who brought you the box on your first day. After a few days, when she seems certain you’re not going to change into a monster, she stops and chats with you for a while. She tells you more about the life inside the actual QZ, after the quarantine area. Apparently soldiers sleep in shared accommodation if they’re single, they share apartments with other soldiers and sleep two in a room. If you’re in a relationship when you come in you get assigned an apartment with your partner, if you’re lucky you don’t have to share it with another couple.. 

“It depends on the apartments available, but it’s not too bad here. We’re expanding the QZ and clearing out more apartments so you’ll probably get one on your own with your fiancé,” she says when you ask. 

She tells you there’s a notice board for posting messages about missing people, just like you’d hoped for. But she’s not hopeful about finding anyone. 

“There are so many missing people, FEDRA, the Federal Disaster Response Agency, are trying to organize stuff like that but communication between QZ’s is used mainly for military stuff so there’s not much opportunity to ask about who’s where.”

“Have you found any of your people?” you ask while the soldier, her name is Ingrid, leans on the fence and smokes a cigarette. 

“Yeah, I found my brother in the Miami QZ, he used to live in Tampa before the outbreak and he made it there. Last thing I heard he’s still there and working for FEDRA. But that’s the only one I’ve found.” She takes another drag of her cigarette and glances up at the nearest guard tower. “What about you?” she asks, “Who are you looking for?” 

“Everyone, except Frankie,” you sigh, rubbing your hand over your face. “I don’t know what’s happened to my parents or my sister. They were all down in San Antonio. And then our friends, they were gonna try to meet us at a cabin outside of the city, but nobody made it. I think if they made it they’d be here, or in the Arlington QZ.” 

Ingrid stands up and stubs out her cigarette, “I came here from Arlington two months ago, what are their names?” 

“Santiago Garcia, Benjamin Miller, Will and Hannah Miller, Denny Jones.” 

“Oh yeah, Benny I know! He’s with the military in Arlington, I served under him. Big, blonde, ex special ops guy right?” 

Your eyes widen and you feel excitement bubbling up inside you, “Yes! Yes! That’s him! He’s ok? What about his brother, Will’s his brother and he’s married to Hannah.” 

“Yeah, Benny lives with Hannah but he never mentioned a brother.” She sees the fear creep into your eyes as you realize the reason why Ben might not have mentioned Will. “I wasn’t close with Benny or anything, maybe he just never mentioned him.” 

“But if Will was there, then Hannah would be living with him and not Benny,” you say in a low voice. Ingrid looks at you with pity before she sighs, getting ready to leave again. 

“Yeah, if he was there they’d probably be sharing an apartment and Benny would’ve been the barracks. Listen,” she says, putting her hand on the fence separating you, “I’ll try to get a message to Arlington, let Benny know you’re here, see if he can send you a message back. He’s a commanding officer, comes with some privileges.” 

“Thanks Ingrid, tell him Frankie Morales is here too, I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem, I’ll see you tomorrow, ok, only four days left now.” 

“See you tomorrow.” 

You go back to the tent and sit down on the bunk, Benny and Hannah are alive, that’s something. But Will…your stomach knots when you think about him, calm, reliable Will, always has his friend’s back, always looked out for Frankie when you first started dating, you don’t want to think about the possibility of him not making it. But if Will was in the Arlington QZ, he and Ben would be serving together, you’re sure of it. So where is he, if he’s not there? 

Two days later Ingrid comes back, handing over your rations for the day and she has good news. 

“I got hold of Benny on the radio, it was pure luck,” she says, grinning at you as you feel tears well up in your eyes. “I was on radio duty yesterday and he had information to pass on to Franklin QZ so I got to talk to him. I told him you and Frankie are here and he was ecstatic, he asked me to tell you ‘I’m going to hug her and hug Frankie and then smack Frankie for scaring the shit out of him and then hug him again’. “ 

You laugh despite the tears dripping down your cheeks, “That sounds like Benny alright,” you say as you drag your palms over your cheeks to dry them. 

“He’s gonna send a message to Frankie and if you guys want, he’ll try to get you transferred to Arlington.” She pushes your rations over to you through the fence and leans back to light a cigarette. “We didn’t have time to talk more, but I’d say you can expect a very big hug if you transfer to Arlington.” 

You smile and lean back against the fence on your side too, “Benny is one of Frankie’s best friends. They served together for years together with Will and Santiago, it’s gonna do Frankie good to hear that at least Ben is ok.” 

“Well, you can tell him the day after tomorrow,” Ingrid smiles, “But I’ll miss our chats. Come see me when you’re all settled in, promise?” 

“I will for sure, it’ll be nice to talk to you without a fence in between us;” you laugh, relief making you feel light. Ben is ok, and he knows you’re ok and where you are. That’s a start, you’re gonna find the Will and Pope too, somehow, somehow you’re gonna track them down and get word to them.  

Two days later you’re given a final scan by the doctor, the female one now thank god, and given the all clear to gather your things and exit the quarantine area. You’re longing for Frankie, you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet as you wait in line for the processing to be done for you and four more people who are being released into the QZ. You get some sort of QZ passport and a stamp in it before you’re finally allowed to step through the gate that leads into Franklin QZ. 

“Cariño!” Frankie’s waving at you from behind a low barricade, keeping the area in front of the wall clear. Even at a distance you can see his eyebrows drawn together in an anxious look as raises his hand to you again. “Cariño!”

You try not to run over to him, to not look too pathetic in front of the guards and the other newcomers, but tears well up in your eyes and you break into a run. Through the mist you see him open his arms wide for you and you slam into him, hard enough to make him stumble back before he finds his footing. His arms close around you as you grab his face, his scruffy beard under your palms, and then his mouth is on yours again, finally. His hand slips up and cups your cheek, you feel his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer as he fists your shirt, bunching it up and grabbing hold of you. Your tears are dripping down over your lips and his, he’s wiping at them with his thumb, but when his tongue slips across yours, you can taste them on you both. He’s pressed hard against you and you slip your arms around his neck to hold steady as he picks you up, your feet leave the ground as he hugs you tight enough to squeeze the air out your lungs but you still can't get close enough to him.

“I love you Frankie, I missed you so much,” you choke out when you have to gasp for air and Frankie draws a shuddering breath, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“I love you too, I missed you too,” he mumbles, looking at you with his warm, brown eyes so close it’s all you can see, “hermosa, mi amor, I missed you so fucking much.” His lips are on yours again, gentler this time as he carefully lowers you to the ground, his hand still on your cheek while the other runs up and down your back, holding you close. 

You stay wrapped up around each other for a long time, only the guards are left when you finally break apart far enough to notice the world around you. Frankie’s got a tight grip on your hand, your small box of belongings in the other and he gives you a slight tug, showing you where you’re going.

“C’mon, we’ve got an apartment down this way,” he says and leads you down what looks like it used to be a major street in Franklin. “I got everything sorted for us, like I promised,” he gives your hand a small squeeze. “I joined FEDRA, that’s the military agency that runs the QZ, and I got us an apartment through them and some rations to start us off. The apartment isn't much but it’s furnished and there’s a donation center where we can apply for stuff we need.” 

He turns down a side street as you get further from the wall, a regular city street lined with apartment buildings and offices except it looks almost like a war zone, or at least what you’d imagine a war zone to look like. A couple of the buildings are burnt out and there are burnt out cars along the streets too. Some of the cars are toppled over and down one alley you see a crashed truck with its back doors ripped off its hinges. 

“They haven’t prioritized clearing the streets yet,” Frankie says. “They had to get the walls and quarantine areas up as fast as possible. And they’re still reinforcing the wall in some places, getting it more stable.” You turn another corner and arrive at a non-descript apartment block in sand coloured brick. 

“This is us,” Frankie says and opens the gate into the complex, holding it up for you. “There was no electricity in the daytime the first week I was here. They only just got the power plant up and running again. Apparently it took a bit of damage during the outbreak.” He starts leading you up the stairs, “but now we have actual hot water and lights.” 

“Hot water…” you sigh, “I can’t wait to take a long shower, I’m all grimy and gross, there was no shower in solitary quarantine:” 

“You’re still the most beautiful woman I know, hermosa,” Frankie says, slipping his arm around your waist as you get to the third floor. You lean into him and through the layers of his jacket, the very well worn flannel and soft t-shirt underneath, you can still catch that warm scent  that always seems to hang around him, warm cotton, something woody and very much Frankie. Despite it all, the mess of the entire world, losing Lucía, losing your friends, the looters attacking you, the infected man attacking you and the two extra weeks in quarantine, despite it all, being back with Frankie makes it all seem less scary, less intimidating. You wrap your arm around his waist, tucking it in under his jacket so that you can put your hand between his t-shirt and jeans, running your fingers along the soft skin of the small of his back. He hums gently and stops you both in front of a door at the end of the hallway. 

Unlocking the door he steps in first, flicking the light switch and kicking off his shoes after putting your box on a small table just inside the door. You untie your boots and pull them off as Frankie locks the door behind you. When you stand up he pulls you into his chest, smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks as his lips find yours. His tongue laps at your mouth and you part your lips, relishing the feel of his eager press after so long apart. He feels more needy than he has in months, there’s something urgent in the way he pushes you against the wall in the hallway and when he deepens the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, you feel heat rush through your body and you moan into him. You wrap your arms around his waist, dipping your hands inside his jeans, his skin soft and warm under your fingertips. You urge him closer, your hips pressing against his and with a low groan his lips leave yours and nips at your jaw, traveling a familiar path to that spot just under your ear that he knows will have you moaning louder for him. 

“Hermosa,” he mumbles, his lips close to your ear, his hands leaving your cheek and caressing down your chest, palming your breast, his thumb seeking out your hardening nipple, “I need you, I need you so much now.” 

You almost sob with happiness, you’ve missed this part of Frankie so much, feeling his hands on your body, feeling him press his hard length against your soft belly, making you moan as arousal floods your body. 

“I need you too, Frankie,” you whimper, gasping as his teeth nip at your sensitive skin, his soft tongue soothing the bite. “Let me shower first, then I’m all yours.” You push him gently away from you, his dark eyes coming up from your neck to stare into yours. He nods and takes your hand, pulling you further into the apartment. It’s almost bare, just a few pieces of furniture in the living room and a small kitchen table at the end of the galley kitchen. The bathroom is next to the one bedroom and Frankie leads you inside and shows you how to get the shower running. It sputters a bit but then a steady flow of hot water comes rushing out and you quickly scramble out of your clothes. You’ve only had one change of clothes in quarantine and everything is dirty and smelly and to drop it all on the bathroom floor feels like peeling off the past two weeks. Frankie can’t keep from running his hands over your body as your bare skin is in front of him, bending his head to kiss your shoulder while he cups your breasts from behind. 

“Take as long as you need, cariño,” he says, still trailing kisses along your shoulder, “I’ll get some clean clothes out for you, your towel is the green one on the hook.” 

“Thank you, Frankie,” you say as he lets go of you and you step into the shower. 

The shower is the best you’ve ever had, the feeling of finally being clean is something you didn’t realize you’d missed so much. You let the water run hot, almost scorching, and soap yourself up three times, washing your hair twice, before you rinse every inch of your body, finally feeling clean, and turn off the water. The mirror is steamed up when you step out of the cubicle and dry off. There’s a comb on the counter that you assume belongs to Frankie and you have to spend some time detangling your hair, coaxing out the knots after two weeks without a hair brush.. When you’re done, you wrap the towel around yourself and make your way to the bedroom. 

It’s as non-descrip as the rest of the apartment, a double bed, a wardrobe, chest of drawers and a chair in the corner. Frankie’s in front of the wardrobe, clothes in his hands, but as you walk in he drops them on the chair and comes over, his hands landing on your waist, sliding down and grabbing hold of your hips, fingers digging into the flesh under the towel. You smooth your hands over his shoulders, he’s shed the jacket and shirt, leaving him in a green t-shirt that stretches across his body, it even looks a size too small for his wide frame. And as you relish the feel of his warm body he pulls you around and walks you backwards to the bed, tugging at your towel and leaving it pooled on the floor. “Take your shirt off, Frankie,” you say, pushing up the hem of it, and he quickly pulls it over his head, his hands barely leaving your body.

He pushes you down on the bed, making you crawl backwards up over it while he crowds you, his mouth finding yours. His kisses are frantic, forceful and needy, his tongue plunges into your mouth, making you moan as you taste him. He’s going to leave bruises on your lips but you let him, he’s pressing hard against you, his low groans vibrating into your mouth. You can feel his knees bump against your thighs as he makes you spread your legs wide, pushing them apart when he rolls his still  jeans clad crotch against your core, a louder groan forcing itself from his chest. He’s pushing you into the mattress, his body heavy over yours, scrambling to undo his belt and pants, shoving them down only enough to free his hard cock, you can feel it push up against your wet folds as he drops his hips against yours, the belt buckle pressed against the flesh of your thigh.

“I need you, cariño,” he pants, he’s grabbing himself, settling the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, “I need you, I need you, fuck, let me…,” he’s pushing himself in, the sharp stretch of his thick cock making you wince, screwing your eyes up, the intense pleasure of feeling him fill you up, mixing with pain at taking all of him so fast and unprepared.

“Frankie,” you whimper, grabbing hold of his shoulders as he pulls out and thrusts back in, a half concealed cry slipping from you as he pushes even deeper too fast. He’s fucking you hard and firm, dropping his head to your neck. You can feel his heavy panting against your skin as he pushes one arm around your shoulders, holding you steady, while his other grabs your hip hard enough to bruise, his own slamming into you at a punishing pace. His climax is approaching fast, he groans into your neck, the rhythm of his thrust stuttering and then he grinds into you, forcing you deeper into the mattress under his heavy weight. With a strangled sob he comes inside you, freezing above you for a few seconds, his hips moving slower until they still, and he slumps down over your. 

You let your hands run through his hair, your own arousal slipping away as you try to wrap your head around how he just fucked you, so unlike him in any way. You feel dazed and  you can feel the sting between your legs, a dull ache from his frantic movements.

“Frankie..:'' you say in a whisper, moving to look at his face but with a hiss he pulls out  and pushes himself off you, shuffling back without looking at you and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He makes a motion as if to stand up but sinks down again, his jeans still just pushed down over his hips, and he slumps forwards, burying his head in his hands as a sob escapes him, shaking his hunched shoulders. 

You push yourself off the bed, moving around so that you can kneel behind him, your hands on his shoulders. 

“Frankie…” you whisper softly, “Frankie, talk to me.”

He grasps at your hands, pulling them around his shoulders and you bury your face against the side of his head as you hug him from behind.  “It’s ok, baby, it’s ok,” you soothe him as he sobs, struggling to catch his breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, his voice low and shaky, “I’m sorry, cariño.” 

“It’s ok, come back to bed, Frankie,” you take his hand and gently pull him around when he lets you. “Take your jeans off and come lie down with me.” 

He does as you say and you pull the covers back, tucking you both in as he crawls next to you. Wrapping your arms around him, his head comes to rest against the crook of your neck and you feel his wet cheeks against your skin. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again, “I’m so fucking broken.” 

“Frankie, my love, you’re not broken,” you whisper, caressing his soft curls, “you’re grieving, it’s normal, I’d be more worried if you were behaving like nothing happened.” 

Under you Frankie draws a deep shuddering breath, you can feel him blow warm air over your neck, and he burrows closer to you. 

“I needed you here, I couldn’t even sleep when you weren’t with me,” he mumbles so low you almost can’t hear him, his lips against your skin. “I just needed to make you real again, I just needed to feel you here.” 

“I needed you too,” you whisper, pressing your lips to the top of his head, “I dreamt about you every night, I’d fall asleep pretending you had your arms around me, holding me so that I could feel safe next to you.” Your fingers run through his curls, his quiet whimpers slowly dying down.

“What did you dream?” he asks eventually, his voice a bit steadier but low, shifting so that he can look up at you, his arm under your head like a pillow. 

“Everyday things, things I miss from before,” you lean forward and give him a soft kiss on his pink lips, still damp from his tears. “Movie nights on the couch, going grocery shopping, driving in your truck, taking Lucía to the park.” 

Frankie nods as he curls his hand around the back of your head and pulls your lips to his again, this time his kiss is gentle and delicate.

“I dream about driving with you in my truck almost every night,” he murmurs against your lips when he pulls back, “I don’t know where we’re going, just away I think. I’ve got my arm around you, your hand on my leg and…” he falters, something catching in his throat, “she…Lucía, is sleeping in her booster seat in the back.” He smoothes the back of his hand across your cheek and kisses you again. “On the good nights we just keep on driving until I wake up.” 

You don’t ask him about the bad nights, you know what happens then. Instead you let him deepen his kiss, his warm hand cupping your cheek as his tongue slips between your lips. He tastes of salt and himself and as he carefully rolls you over, you pull him closer, tangling your tongue with his. He’s holding himself up over you on his forearms, straddling you with his legs and when he leaves your lips, trailing soft, gentle kisses along your jawline you feel heat bubbling up inside you again. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again, his lips against the soft skin just under your ear, “I can give you much better.” 

“I know, Frankie,” you whisper but the last syllable comes out as a gasp when he sinks his teeth into your neck, not hard enough to hurt, just a nip to make your back arch against him as electricity shoots through your body, gathering in your core. 

“Like that,” he murmurs and you can hear the smile in his voice, his tongue licking across the spot before he moves himself down, trailing his hand down over your breast, brushing the thumb over your hard nipple, before he lets it slip further down. 

“You don’t have to though,” you mumble, slipping your fingers through his curls, you know his grief is still just under the surface, but he shakes his head as his mouth finds your other breast, lapping at the sensitive nub, nudging the soft flesh with the cool tip of his nose as you writhe under him, spreading your legs to make room for his hand. 

“I want to, I want to make you feel good, cariño,” he ghosts against your skin, looking up at you from under his thick eyelashes. He’s cupping your pussy, slipping a finger through your wet folds, teasing at the entrance and you whine, his fingers moving up to slip across your clit.

“Frankie…” you whisper, his touch is electric, lighting up every nerve in your body. His tongue slipping around your nipple as he lets his fingers follow the same pace, circling around your aching bundle of nerves. 

“I know, I know,” he mumbles, smiling at your skin and lapping at your nipple again before he pushes himself further down your body, leaving a trail of wet kisses as his hands come up and caress your breast, your waist, the soft swell of your belly and finally land on the inside of your thighs, gently pushing them apart as he situates himself between them. 

“I remember how sweet you taste,” he breathes, parting your folds with his fingers before he looks up at you, his dark eyes still puffy from his tears but a needy look in them now, one you recognise from many nights spent in his bed. He dips his head and when his tongue drags across your folds, ending at your clit with an extra lick, you arch your back and inhale, holding your breath until he does it again. You’re not going to last long and he can sense it, going easy on you, to drag it out at least a bit.

He hums against your pussy as he laps into your entrance, the tip of his nose rubbing over your clit. When your hands tangle in his curls, pulling him closer he chuckles and you can feel the vibrations, sending more heat to your core. 

“You taste so good, cariño,” he says, shifting his arm so that he can tease a finger into your opening, his tongue licking a wide path up through your fold before he sucks the clit into his  mouth, pulling gently on it. He curls his finger, dragging it out slowly before letting a second one join it. Pushing deeper he finds that spot that makes you buck your hips against his hand, a strangled gasp coming from you as your fingers tighten in his hair. 

“Frankie...” your voice catches in your throat but he knows what you mean, curling his fingers back as he drags his tongue over your clit. The sensation of his fingers plunging in and out of you makes your body convulse under his arm and he lifts his mouth from your clit, looking up at you under hooded eyes. 

“Look at me, hermosa, please,” he pleads, “I want to see you come in my mouth, it’s been so long.” 

Peeling open your eyes, they’ve been squeezed shut under the onslaught of his skilled tongue, you lift yourself up, gazing down your body at his flushed face between your thighs. His eyes are dark, his sweat damp curls an unruly halo around his head. As you meet his eyes he unfurls his tongue onto your clit, lowering his mouth so that you can see the pink tip brush over your swollen bundle, making you whimper at the touch. His fingers are still moving in and out of you at a steady pace but as his mouth closes around your clit again, he speeds up. The familiar coil starts tightening in your core, seeing Frankie’s dark eyes on you as he buries his face, ramps the heat even more and your mouth drops open, panting out whimpers, his name the only coherent word. He curls his fingers back and presses his lips against your clit, flicking his tongue over, his eyes willing you to come undone under his ministrations, and with a strangled cry, you feel heat flood your body. It makes every muscle tense up, your hips press up against Frankie’s mouth as he laps over your clit, working you through your climax, prolonging it until you fall back with a deep exhale, pushing him away with weak hands. 

Black dots are dancing over your eyes and you squeeze your eyelids together, your breath rushing in and out. Frankie’s fingers slip out of your pussy, gently grabbing your hips and caressing over your flushed skin. His tongue is lapping through your folds, tasting your release and humming low as he feels your body relax under him. When he rests his head on your thigh you can feel the soft scratch of his beard, damp against your skin. 

“Had to make it up to you,” his voice smiling as he caresses your other leg with his hand, grounding you with his touch. 

“You did,” you mumble, still coming down from your high, not sure if you’re conscious or not, “more than enough.” You hear Frankie chuckle softly and shift around your legs, his body moving up to lie down next to you. He pulls you into his side, letting your head fall on his shoulder as he pulls the covers back up. You can feel his fingers brush through your still damp hair, his arm tight around your body and you bury your nose against his neck, breathing in his warm, familiar scent.

“You still smell like yourself, Frankie,” you murmur.  “So do you,” he says, shifting his head so that he can press his nose to your hair, inhaling deeply. “Smells like early morning rain and fresh coffee, with a hint of aviation fuel, all the things I love.” 

You giggle and swat his chest where your hand rests, “Pendejo, I do not smell like aviation fuel.”

He chuckles lightly,“ Hermosa, you’re not allowed to learn the bad words. And no, you don’t smell like aviation fuel.” His lips press against your hair and you close your eyes, listening to his slow heartbeat under your ear. Together you stay quiet for a while, the only sound is your breathing and the distant noises from other apartments. 

“I forgot to ask how quarantine was?” he asks softly just as you’re about to drift off to sleep, his question pulling you back up.

“Very boring, mostly,” you say before you suddenly remember, “Frankie, I’ve got news!” You shuffle around, pushing yourself up on your elbow so that you can look at him.“The soldier who brought my rations, she got transferred here from Arlington QZ and she served under Benny there!” 

Frankie’s eyes widen and he stares at you, “Our Benny? Benjamin Miller?” 

“Yes, our Benny! After she found out I knew him she managed to get him on the radio and tell him we’re here!” You grin at the message Benny had passed along. “Benny said he’d hug me, hug you, then smack you for scaring the shit out of him and then hug you again.” 

Frankie chuckles and shakes his head before he’s suddenly serious again, “What about Will, Hannah and Pope? Anything about them?”

You sigh and bite your lip, Frankie’s eyebrows knit together when he sees your face. “That’s the thing, Benny is living with Hannah in the QZ and Ingrid, the soldier, she didn’t know anything about Benny having a brother. And she didn’t know Pope either.” 

“So Will’s not there,” Frankie says immediately, “If he was he’d be serving with Benny for sure.” “That’s what I was thinking too,” you say and Frankie drops his gaze from your face, narrowing his eyes as he thinks. “It doesn’t mean the worst though, it just means Will isn’t in Arlington,” you say, worrying at your lips with your teeth.

“Yeah, but where else would he be?” Frankie looks up at you and gently tugs your bottom lip from between your teeth. “You’ll draw blood, hermosa.” 

“I don’t know,” you admit, “Maybe he got transferred somewhere else? You guys, with your experience, must be pretty sought after now.” 

“But Will would never leave Benny. She, the soldier, didn't ask about Will?” 

“No, she said there wasn’t much time but he said he’d send a message to you as soon as possible. Although, that was four days ago.” 

“I’ll see if I can get a message to him too, my C.O. mentioned something about officers applying for special privileges on the radio for private conversations. I’ll see if I can do that.” 

Frankie pulls you down to him again, kissing your cheek as you tuck yourself into the crook of his neck.

 “Benny and Hannah are alive,” he says, mostly to himself, “thank god.” 

Chapter 18

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko  @javicstories @welcometothepedroverse

[jake-g-lockley]

Hello! Could I possibly get #11 with Frankie please? Thank you so much!

Silent Wishes (Frankie Morales x reader) 

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be tagged?

Prompt: one touching the other’s hand and comparing pinky fingers, playing with their hair and patting their head randomly, hoping they’ll get it. 

Warnings: single mom troubles, two yearning idiots who are oblivious, sad undertones with loads of fluff

A/N: Thanks for the ask lovely!! Look I love the yearning idiot trope with Frankie, he’s everything to me :”)

Word count: 1.8 k words

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

He turned up at your doorstep one summer afternoon while you were trying to get your newborn to sleep. His eyes widened at the sight before him. You hadn’t seen him in 2 years and hadn’t written to him in a year and a half when he stopped writing back.

You noted the freckles that dotted his face like constellations, indicating that he went somewhere hot, his tanned skin a further confirmation to your suspicions. He wordlessly stretched his arms out for the crying newborn and you mechanically transferred her to him, watching as he gently cradled her against his broad chest, making soft shushing noises. You were shocked with yourself, you hadn’t seen him in months and you just handed your newborn to him like he had been beside you all this while. 

When you had woken up that morning you never thought that your best friend would finally turn up after months of complete silence. A lot had happened since he left and you drowned in your sorrows, one thing led to another and you were now left alone with a three month old and sleepless nights. You straightened your shirt and rubbed at the awkward stain on your shoulder, covering it up with your matted hair as you bit your lip

“You wanna come in?” you whispered, your throat hoarse from all of the singing you tried administering to your restless daughter.

Frankie nodded and continued to gently rock your baby as she began to quiet down in his arms. You ushered Frankie onto the couch, not before pushing away the assorted plushies and rattles. The both of you sat awkwardly, a veil of weird energy clouding over you as you watched your daughter finally succumb to sleep.

“What's her name?” Frankie whispered and you almost sighed in relief when you heard his voice, letting it sew the cracks of your heart.

“Aruna.” you said back and watched on as Frankie whispered her name and smiled down at her.

“She’s beautiful.” 

“Just like her mother.” He tried to say but his voice kept catching in his throat and he swallowed the urge to hug you right now.

“Thank you…” you smiled and Frankie almost sobbed at how beautiful you looked, despite looking like you hadn’t had a wink of sleep in months.

“So, where’s Aruna’s dad.” he found himself cutting right to it but he wished he didn’t when he caught a change in your expression.

“Dunno. I kinda don’t even know his name.” you whispered, embarrassment creeping up your face.

Frankie was screaming with joy inside, but he internally chastised himself. He shouldn’t feel this indulgent, after all, he left his best friend without a word for many months. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it was my decision to keep Aruna. How’ve you been?” you switched topics fast, pulling the attention away from you and back onto the pretty man that was cradling your child.

“Been okay.” he said, his eyes filled with worry that he tried his best to hide.

The both of you sat in silence when suddenly you realised that you hadn’t offered Frankie anything and you internally face palmed.

“Want something to drink?” you forced a smile and got up.

“It's alright.” he looked like he wanted to continue his sentence but he cut himself off with a deep breath and looked down at the sleeping Aruna again.

“I can tell that you have something to say, Frankie.” his head snapped up when you said his name and he blinked up at you, not wanting to intrude. 

“I-i don’t mind taking care of Aruna for a while, if you want some alone time.” he whispered.

You were caught off guard but somehow, you weren’t surprised. There was your old Frankie, the Frankie who protected you and cared for you with all of his very being. Your eyes welled up with tears and Frankie stood up, alarmed. He crossed the gap and pulled you into his arms, careful not to squish your daughter. 

“Thank you, Frankie.” you whispered and you felt his lips on your forehead, his kiss spreading a warmth from the top of your head till the tip of your toes. 

You pulled back first, leaning down to kiss your daughter’s cheek and giving Frankie one last sad smile before retreating to the bathroom. Frankie closed his eyes the second the bathroom door closed, tears that were pooling at his waterline rushing out, cascading down his cheeks, his heart pounding uncontrollably where Aruna’s ear was pressed against his chest. 

His years of yearning crashed against him as his heart hurt from the way you were living. Toys and books were strewn everywhere and he let out a shaky breath trying his best to stay silent for the tiny baby in his arms. He can’t help but feel like this was all of his fault as he scanned the situation around him. He hastily wiped his eyes and spotted your baby-wearing scarf not far from the couch. He gently walked towards it and decided to get to work

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You didn’t know how long you were in the shower, letting the hot water soothe all the knots in your lower back and neck. You let your mind go blank as you rinse the shampoo into your hair, losing yourself to the sound of the water hitting the floor. You left the bathroom almost reluctantly and you were surprised to see a pile of clothes on your bed waiting for you. 

You slipped them on and smiled to yourself, your reflection looking fresher than it had been for months. You slowly walked downstairs, your ears picking up a soft lullaby and the sound of tap water hitting dishes. You tiptoed to the kitchen and peaked around the corner, watching as Frankie bounced around to the rhythm of the lullaby he was singing, your baby-wearing scarf wrapped around him. 

He continued to wash and stack dishes as your eyes wandered to the living room and you realised that Frankie had placed everything back in its place. Your place was relatively clean, it's just that the past few days had been a little too chaotic with the little one not cooperating. 

You smiled softly at Frankie’s kindness and you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realise Frankie had just moon walked past you and stopped when his eyes met yours. You raised your eyebrows and chuckled at his shenanigans.

“Benny taught me, nevermind…” he mumbled and rubbed the back of his neck and you grinned at him. 

He reached out and tucked a strand of your wet hair behind your ear and you searched his eyes. Frankie didn’t know what to do, so he awkwardly patted your head and you internally cackled at his nervousness but turned around and blushed, pretending to look for your daughter’s bottle. You glanced at the clock and realised that it was in fact time to feed her, so you rushed around the kitchen, preparing her a bottle. 

You turned to find Frankie staring at you, his position the same as when you left him a second ago. He had been unabashedly gazing at you, his heart playing out another unfamiliar melody. 

“You wanna feed her?” you asked and he nodded quickly, and you gestured towards the couch.

You pulled Aruna out of the wrap and Frankie sat cross legged on the sofa. You laid your daughter in the crook of his waiting arm and handed him the bottle. She took the bottle immediately without a fuss and you slumped against the chair, absolutely defeated as Frankie grinned at you, his pretty dimple on full display that made your heart melt at how gorgeous he looked. 

But you looked away instantly, your heart clenching at the fact that Frankie would never want to be with a sad single mom. You sighed to yourself and Frankie caught your shift in behaviour

“You okay?”

“Mhm.” you hummed, straightening your face. 

Frankie wasn’t convinced. Yet he diligently focused on Aruna, and burped her once the last drop of milk disappeared from the bottle. You watched with a longing smile as Frankie soothingly rocked her back to sleep before putting her into her bassinet. He quietly sat beside you and you scoffed approvingly.

“What?” he whispered

“You’d make a great dad, you know.” you whispered gently

Frankie blushed, his face flaming like a tomato.

“Well, just practice from babysitting the nephews.” he muttered.

You both sat in silence staring at the blank TV before you, your reflections something of a dream to you.

“Dude, I didn’t realize how small your fingers were!” he exclaimed softly.

You raised your eyebrows questioningly and Frankie pulled at your wrist without a warning, sending a shock throughout your body. He held your arm in front of him and examined it, comparing his pinky with yours. He was right, except his hand looked gargantuan beside yours. He stared intently at your hand, holding it gently. 

“Why’d you come back, Frankie?” you whispered. 

Frankie most certainly did not expect that question from you. He didn’t know what to expect to be honest. He thought you were about to slam the door in his face when he turned up a few hours ago. He had spent the whole night hyping himself up to go and see you, to at least say hi and see how you were doing. He missed you, and his poor heart yearned for you no matter how much he pushed it away. A picture of your smiling face was still tucked in his wallet and not a day has passed since he pulled it out to see whether you were still there with him.

He broke when you stopped sending him your letters, he had kept them stowed in a little box that he’d carry with him and he read them every night without fail. He knew what to tell you, what answer would exit his mouth if he had the courage to open it. He looked up at you, his big brown eyes melting with guilt and your heart softened. You somehow knew why he was back, you can now see by the way he looks at you, his mask shattered along with the swagger he had when you swung that door open this morning.

You scooched closer to him and leaned on his shoulder, your hearts beating to the same rhythm. Frankie sighs and pulls your legs over his, now cradling you the same way he had cradled your daughter. You and him would talk, when the time was right. Now, you breathed in his heavenly scent as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, his arms creating a protective barrier like no other.

Your Frankie was back and nothing else mattered. 

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~

Tagging: @joygirlmelii @wolfbook87 @minigirl87 @alexxavicry @lia275 @euphoricosmo @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @swiggy-needs-mental-help @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @lil-stark @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm @bubblezuku

[creedslove]

I was wondering if you’d agree to write doing a living room picnic with Pedro and just ordering a lot of sushi, drinking wine and spending time together

Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x f!reader

A/N: I changed it for Frankie because idk I got so thirsty and hungry for our killing mule man 🥺 I'm sorry anon 🥺

When you walked home after work, the last person you expected to see was your boyfriend Frankie 

He had been out on a mission for the last few weeks and though you missed him dearly, you knew he wasn't expected to be back for at least another week, so when you saw him you squealed happily and ran to him, jumping into his arms and kissing him as deeply as you could 

Frankie groaned in pain, his body was sore from the mission, the helicopter crash, all the weight he carried and the physical efforts he took, he felt like he was falling apart but his arms still wrapped tight around your body, holding you as close as possible, he needed your touch, your presence and your smell all over him 

You held each other for white some time, you didn't want to let go of him and though there were a few bruises here and there, your sweet Frankie was back alive and in one piece

You smiled big once you saw he'd shaved, of course you loved his scruffy beard and how it felt against your skin, but something about his smooth cheeks sent a warmth down your core 

But you also noticed the sad eyes he carried and you knew it had been a tough mission, maybe he would like to talk about it or maybe he wouldn't, you would let him decide it by himself 

"I missed you, baby girl" he whispered against his lips, kissing you hungrily, like he'd been thinking of doing ever since he left home to go to that goddamn mission. He regretted every single minute of it, he should've never left you but he did and now he had to make up for the time he lost

He'd brought a bag of cash back home, and now he saw how stupid and greedy that was when his true richness was having you by his side 

But things had been already done and he couldn't change what happened, so now he brought in all that money, he would use it to make your life much more comfortable, and with that, he decided to surprise you with your favorite: japanese and wine

You couldn't help but giggle as you saw he had pulled together "that's for you baby" he pulled you closer as you both sat on the carpet, using the coffee table to eat. Frankie's arms wrapped around your frame, his chin resting on your shoulder, hand on your stomach, stroking it gently

As you ate and drank, Frankie could only close his eyes and relax being so thankful he was home, safe and sound with the woman he loved in his arms 

_____

[juletheghoul]

Unnamed

Authors note: this idea has been floating around in my head for a few weeks, the idea of being a siren and unable—unwilling to subject someone to the power of your voice. Even if there are established feelings would it be ethical to use it? How can a person who is compelled consent? Better to keep silent, no matter how much it hurts. This is tiny, not beta’d and random but here it is.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (modern day siren)

Word count: 500

Warnings: a sprinkle of angst, allusions to sex / slight description - (18+ no minors), supernatural elements

Masterlist

———

It’s easiest when he’s excited.

The smile blooms naturally as he explains the intricacies of flying, of all of the schooling it takes to be a pilot, the pride beaming out through his eyes. It’s so simple to bask in his voice, the warm honey tone of it eclipses the lack of yours.

It’s easy when he’s tired. When he tumbles into your bed or his after a particularly busy day. His heartbeat under your ear is the perfect soundtrack before the darkness of sleep swallows you both. It almost feels like he’s forgotten the question, forgotten to wonder why exactly you deny him the sound of your voice. It is a folly though, he never forgets. Never stops wondering, never lets it go no matter how calm and relaxed he may seem.

It's hard when he’s inside you.

When his hips are slotted between yours and his cock is hard and heavy inside, the muscles of his back bunched tight under the soothing sweep of your hands. The song of your pleasure bitten between clenched teeth, fighting to stay hidden and you think that maybe this makes it worse for him. Makes his hips move faster, makes him work harder to pull you apart.

It’s hardest when he asks.

The honey in his eyes and in his voice somehow extra syrupy when he voices the question you fear most from someone you love. The longing in his expression, the soft clutching of his hands at your shoulders, your wrists, your fingers.

“Why won’t you just speak to me? I don’t understand—I love you. I don’t care what you sound like.” He always reassures, always expresses his assurances that his love doesn’t, and has never come with conditions.

But you will, they always do and I could not bear to see that look in your eyes

The truth is they’ve all said the same thing. All of the lovers that have come before him. Every single one. They all hear your voice and change, become possessive and mesmerized all at once. The thought of how those lovely, crinkled eyes glazing over under the spell of your song, the curse that lived in somewhere in the back of your throat is enough to harden your resolve so a sad shake of the head is all you can offer.

He sighs at this, and for now his hands still hold onto you. A resigned nod of his head and your heart breaks for him. Would have been easier if he thought you couldn’t speak, but the possibility of that had been ruined on your first meeting. The young daughter he shared with a former partner had been the catalyst for your meeting. He’d found her sitting on the bench beside you, discussing her love of dogs the way only little girls can.

His relief at finding her safe and sound was palpable, the cloud of terror gone and replaced with euphoria. He’d thanked you profusely, offering his gratitude and the gift of his smile freely. He was too beautiful to ignore, to walk away from.

Later on, once everything had passed he remembered that when he first saw you, you’d been speaking to his daughter.

My voice doesn’t work on children.

He could never know that though, could never truly know what you were or why he would never hear you. Would never fully understand, that you keep quiet because you love him.

————

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[peterhollandkait]

I’m unbelievably bored right now 😫

Your post about asks brought me back to life (I’m eating skittles in my bed , dissociating from the world)

I feel like I could use a little fluffy Drabble. I miss summer so bad (we are having another snowstorm here tomorrow) , maybe you could write something around swimming and sunbathing with any of Pedro’s boys … hahaha

Sorry that’s the most unclear ask ever

I hope it’s okay that I wrote this for my children, Frankie and Sunny!! Sunny is the MC of my incoming Frankie fic “Everything I Know Leads Me Back To You” and I think you’re going to love her.

The Sun and Her Fish: A Frankie and Sunny Drabble

Frankie Morales x fem!reader/oc

Once in a blue moon, your apartment complex's pool would be free of swimmers and chatty neighbors. Today was one of those days. When you noticed the bare pool deck outside your window, you woke Frankie immediately, tossing his swim trunks at his face while you pulled on a bathing suit in your bathroom.

Frankie watched from his spot on the bed as you roamed about the room and apartment, putting together a tote with towels, sunscreen, your sunglasses, and various snacks. You had taken care of him the night previous, lulling him back to sleep from a particularly nasty nightmare with your cuddles and loving embrace (as well as his favorite lavender lotion). He felt terrible about waking you up, even though you always insisted it was no big deal, so he was thankful that you would be able to have some quiet time at the pool to lounge around after everything you've done for him.

"C'mon Morales," you teased. "Trunks on, let's go!" You gave him one last look before you grabbed your bag and made your way to the other side of the apartment.

When you reached the kitchen, you snuck a couple beer bottles into the bag even though the complex had a strict no-alcohol rule at the pool deck. You were willing to break the rules for Frankie though, and you knew he would appreciate it when he found them in your bag later.

Frankie appeared in the hallway as you pulled on your sandals, smiling at you. "Ready for the sunshine, mi girasol?"

You grinned back at him, tugging the bag over your shoulder. "You bet I am, mi amor."

Frankie chuckled and slipped on his beat up sandals before he followed you out the door and down to the poolside.

"How long do you think it'll take for the pool to fill up once everyone realizes it's empty?" You inquired, turning to look at your best friend as you walked.

"Hopefully we'll get a couple hours," he replied, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"You're going to get in the pool, right? It'll be good for you." You pulled away briefly to unlock the gate, stepping inside to let him through.

"I dunno..." Frankie hesitated. "I don't think so. I'd rather sit and relax, mi amor."

-

"Frankie, c'mon," you whined, leaning against the concrete from inside the pool.

"Hermosa," he shook his head, chuckling at you. "I don't want to get in the pool. It's nice up here in the shade."

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself up and out of the pool. "Francisco, I swear to god. Get your ass in the pool, soldier!” You huffed, hands falling to your hips as you scowled at him.

When he didn’t move, you stomped over to him like a child, grabbing for his hands to pull him up and out of the lounge chair. But Frankie had other ideas. He tugged you toward him, causing you to lose your footing and fall into his lap with an “oof.” He wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you closer as he chuckled.

“You play dirty,” you mumbled into his skin, head rested in the crook between his shoulder and neck. You took in the scent of him, banana boat sunscreen with a hint of his woodsy cologne underneath.

“Sit with me a little, then I promise I’ll get in, girasol.” His right hand rubbed circles into the skin above your swimsuit bottoms, making you hum softly.

“Okay,” you agreed, reaching for your phone on the table next to the lounge chair. “What should we do for dinner tonight?”

“We could go over to my mom’s and grill out. She keeps asking to see you.”

“That is a great idea. Make sure abuelita is there too, of course.”

Frankie chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I swear, you’re only friends with me for my abuela.”

You giggled, your lips dangerously close to the most sensitive spot on his neck. “Damn, you figured me out. I’m playing the long game here.”

He laughed then, shaking his head. God, he didn’t deserve you.

Frankie didn’t say anything for awhile, but his hands never stopped moving on your back. You enjoyed the quiet, settled in the arms of your love. You laid there contently, listening to his heartbeat, thoughts silenced in your relaxed state.

After almost a half an hour, you decided it had been long enough in the shade and itched to get back into the water. You sat up in his lap, reaching for the open beer bottle on the side table and taking a swig. “Time to go, mi amor.”

“More sunscreen first, I don’t want to hear you complaining later about a sunburn and how the bed is too hot.”

You scoffed, watching as he grabbed the sunscreen tube to reapply the lotion to your back. “It was one time!”

“Mhm, and I’m the king of England.” You rolled your eyes at him, a smile forming on your lips. He was right of course, you did tend to be a little irresponsible with the sunscreen.

He placed his hands on your back, the cold lotion making you jump slightly the feeling. “Sorry,” he whispered, spreading the white liquid across your skin as quickly as he could.

“‘S okay,” you replied, resisting the urge to moan at his touch. Frankie had a way with his hands, caressing your skin gently as he worked. He rubbed into your muscles as if he was giving you a massage. It was almost, sensual.

Frankie, on the other hand, was trying so desperately not to get a hard-on as he touched you. He heard your little whimpers, felt the way your body was responding to his touch. It was almost too much.

When he finished, his hands retreated almost too quickly, disappointing you. You turned back to face him, your hands settled on your hips. “Ready?”

He nodded, taking a final swig of his beer before helping you up and following you over to the edge of the pool. You grabbed the hat on his head, tossing it back to the lounge chair. “Wouldn’t want to get that wet, would we?”

“Honestly, I forget I’m wearing it sometimes. Thank you.”

You smiled, pulling on his arm as you led him down the stairs and into the water. “Should we do laps like when we were kids?” You sank lower into the water as you spoke, tugging him towards you.

“Honey, that sounds exhausting.” You laughed as he wrapped his arms around your middle. “I’m serious! There is nothing I would rather do less than fucking laps.”

“I suppose you’re right.” You leaned into his touch, humming softly. “What shall we do?”

“Do adults have to do anything in the pool? Can’t we stand here and savor the cool water and quiet atmosphere?” He looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“Nope. We did that on the lounge chair mister. What about Marco/Polo?” You rested your chin on his chest, looking up at him with your soft eyes.

You were so close, he could just lean down a few inches and kiss you. It would be so easy. He glanced at your lips, the decision weighing on him.

“Frankie?” You said, pulling him back into reality.

“Yeah, uh. Yes, that’s fine. Do…do you want to go first?”

The two of you played for what felt like hours, chasing each other around the pool from one end to the other. Every time he caught you, you squealed loudly, squirming in his arms.

It reminded you of your childhood, when the two of you, along with Santiago, would hang out in your grandma’s pool all summer, seeing who could do the most laps, win the most rounds of Marco/Polo, or who could hold their breath the longest.

Times were simpler then.

Deep in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Frankie come up behind you in the water, making you scream as he grabbed you. “Oh fuck!”

Frankie laughed and pulled you into his chest, arms wrapped around your middle. You hummed in his embrace but shook your head at his antics. “God, you’re really the worst,” you laughed.

“You love me though,” Frankie grinned, spinning you around in the water. His hair was soaked, sticking to his forehead. It was getting longer now, the ends curling around his ears. He looked beautiful like this, so relaxed and worry-free. You loved it. You loved him.

You kissed his cheek, lips lingering on his skin. “I do, mi amor. I love you very much.”

[kirsteng42]

A favourite of @littlemisspascal edits. This 1 is a mixture of the PP boys!!!!

[doodles-bi-tea]

TF Masterlist

[My masterlist for oneshots and series I’ve written for the Triple Frontier fandom.]

Benjamin “Benny” Miller [Romantic]

How you met the love of your life, Benny Miller

[pimosworld]

Wip Wednesday

[l0ngschl0ngking]

These hands were made for worshipping you

Francisco “Catfish” Morales x f!reader

summary: Frankie wants to show you exactly how much he adores you

warnings: SMUT (oral - f!receiving, pussy drunk Frankie, vaginal fingering, mirror sex, unprotected p in v, like 1 spit on the pussy, squirting -3:)- , body worship, size kink -kind of?-, dirty talk - Frankie has a foul mouth), mentions of reader being insecure about her body, mentions of postpartum depression, mentions of food, cursing, dad!frankie and it’s me so…fluff of course

word count: 7k (of filth)

A/N: Frankie is my fav Pedro character so I hope I did a good job writing him :)).

Francisco Morales is an observant man – punctilious dared you to say – he notices even the smallest of details. Whether it's about you, his friends, or the people he meets on the street. He notices the small crinkle of your nose when you smell something good or the way you squint your eyes when you are deep in thought. You guess it's from his times in the army – if you weren't attentive on the mission you were as good as dead.  

So Frankie notices the way you quickly walk past mirrors now – or when you do look at yourself in one – your sad look as your eyes dance across your face, your body which changed after the birth of your baby girl. He sees the small frown adorning your face and the way you huff. When you catch him looking at you, you quickly smile and try to hide this look he cannot quite place – but Frankie notices. He wants to make you feel good. He always does. It's Frankie – your Frankie – who wants nothing more than to please you. 

So an idea pops in his head. He has planned a nice romantic dinner at your favorite Italian restaurant  – god knows he hasn’t taken you out on a date since birth and it's been almost 2 months now. His parents said that they would come and pick up little Gracie – you were adamant and not sure if that was such a good idea at first, you weren't apart from her before. But Frankie has a way with persuasion – all it takes for you to give in are his brown eyes paired with his fluffy hair and patchy beard and you are done for. So it's no surprise when you say yes to his plan to try and make you feel better – normal.  

 He read it once in this shitty magazine when you two were waiting for your doctor's appointment – that women are prone to postpartum depression, mood swings after birth…And he hated even thinking that you might feel that way. He tried to help as much as possible when he came home from work – exhausted most of the time than not. His soothing voice telling you to relax, his big hands paired with his calloused fingers massaging your shoulders, his hot breath on your skin when he kisses you so softly onto that spot on your neck – the smooth tone of his voice hushing your worries and the sweet nothings released from his mouth whispered in your ear.    

 So you feel even worse when none of his soothing words help and his gentle touch makes you feel even more anxious. When his hands make contact with your skin you want to pull away. Because he deserves better and you know that – you are disgusting. Your clothes don’t fit you anymore even when you try – emphasizing the word try as most of the time you are too tired - to work out. Your body has changed now and you feel repulsed by the way you look, by the way you walk and talk. You feel like you are not good enough of a wife, let alone a mother. You keep telling yourself that he touches you just because he feels obligated to – as your husband. Because how could he love this horrid-looking person staring back at you anytime you look in the mirror?   

And what makes you feel even worse is the way he makes it all look so damn easy – the parenting. When he comes home from work he tries to take care of both of you and he never complains. He never has mental breakdowns – like you do - when Gracie cries to the point you just want to lock yourself in the bathroom. When she doesn’t want to latch on although you know she is hungry. But you think he knows – because it's Frankie – and he just doesn’t want you to feel bad, he never calls you out on it. And she seems like such a ray of sunshine with him – he makes her calm down immediately with his sheer presence. And you feel bad for Frankie because he really –really – does deserve better than this – than you. So you want to make it up to him – your behavior, your incompetence – and you dubiously agree to his proposal for a date.  

 You pack up everything for your daughter – and you also triple-check everything too, before you are satisfied. You packed her two bags and Frankie thinks it's too much for not even one day – he doesn’t say anything, however. He knows his parents are capable of taking care of his chiquita – after all, they took care of him and raised him. And he knows you don’t doubt them – you are just worried – and he understands. When the evening quickly rolls and you hear the bell , you want to go and get it but Frankie just shushes you and tells you to get ready – his patchy beard scratching you when he presses a brisk kiss on your cheek when you try telling him for the hundredth time where everything is and that they have to reheat the milk in the warm water. He takes Gracie from your arms and blows raspberries on her tummy – she laughs and he laughs along with her as he opens the door. You only hear the hushed voices of his parents as they greet their only granddaughter when you go upstairs to your shared bedroom.   

Frankie is still dressed in his sweatpants and a soft cotton shirt which you got him as a joke before Gracie was born -Girl Dad written on it in a pretty cursive font, his signature well-worn-off cap sitting on top of his head when he runs up the stairs after he tells his mother the instructions you gave her and she just brushes him off and scoffs – as if offended - but he knows she meant it in a heartwarming  “I know what to do, mijo” kind of way. He passes his chiquita to his dad and presses wet kisses onto her whole face - saying goodbye to her. She doesn't even seem to care though as she laughs at something Frankie's dad does and Frankie smiles as he softly closes the doors.  

You and your mother-in-law get along well and she respects you – and you respect her in return. After all, she raised Frankie and he grew up into a pretty great man - in your opinion.  She is also more like a second mother to you as yours lives in another state and you can't see her as often as you'd like. Opposed to Frankie's parents who live close by and help you with Gracie as often as they can. And you are grateful for that as you still don’t know how to navigate in this new role of a mother. Gracie loves them too – especially her grandad who calls her “mi little princesa”– and doesn’t she know it? Last time he bought her this pink princess-looking dress and even though she fussed when you try to put it on her she calmed down when her grandad almost cried and took thousands of pictures  - while making the silliest faces at her - of her which he shows to all of his friends anytime he has the chance now.    

When Frankie faintly opens the bedroom door, he stands in the doorway – leaning against the doorframe as he watches you stand in front of the full-length mirror you two bought when you just moved in. It's an old thing but you fell in love with it when you found it in one of these old antique shops you were passing by one day. Pretty hefty with the wooden frame adorning it and Frankie complained at least another week after he carried it up the stairs that his lower back was now killing him because of it.

So he watches when you smooth your hands down the material of the pretty floral dress you are now wearing – funnily enough Frankie’s favorite and the only one which you could actually zip up all the way. He sees the way your shoulders sag down and the way you shake your head at yourself. He sighs quietly and steps into the room – for a man his size he can be quiet as a mouse and he sneaks behind you – his hands making their way to your waist. He lowers his chin onto your shoulder. You meet his gaze in the mirror and he offers you a small smile – the compliment he wants to say sits on top of his tongue – but you beat him to it, the tears threatening to escape you, now stinging your eyes. 

“I look like shit, Frankie.” It surprises him really – he knew you were feeling down, he could see it – but this is the first time you actually say something about it to him. He tried to talk to you but you always just closed off and he never wanted to push on the subject – not wanting to make you even more uncomofrtable. He grips your waist tighter and one of his hands brushes the unshed tears from your eyes. His thumb smoothing over the soft fabric of your dress. You feel the vibrations of his voice on your shoulder when he speaks. 

“Baby, you are absoutely breathtakingly gorgeous.” He whispers and the way he says it – full of endearment and love, with the soft tone he only reserves for you makes it easy for you to believe him – or to at least try to believe him. You shake your head in disagreement and he grabs your chin – his thick fingers squeezing – making you look at him in the mirror. Really look at him. "And I don't know why you feel the way you feel but I do want to help you because I love you so fucking much it hurts me sometimes." The ghost of his whispered confession lingers in the air and you swallow thickly as he holds your stare. You can feel the way his chest heaves with every pass of his breath because he is so close to you - so fucking close. You feel his hard chest pressed up against your back and his soft stomach on your lower back, his bulge pressing against you. In the mirror, you can see how broad he is opposite to you - his shirt straining against his shoulders that you love to rest your legs on while he eats you out. 

 And for someone as attentive as Frankie he is also pretty unassuming when it comes to himself. He praises you every chance he has, he touches you anytime you pass by him. He's tall and lumbering and he doesn't even know the effect he has on you. You try to tell him constantly how much you love him - god and do you ever - and try to make him at least half as loved and appreciated as you feel. He always just shrugs you off with a shy chuckle under his breath and blush on his scruffy cheeks. You love him for him and it doesn't hurt that he is also the most gorgeous man you've ever encountered. With his brown eyes and curly hair, his patchy beard and aquiline nose and that stupid hat that seems to be glued to his head. And somehow he is yours.

You love the way he towers over you and how his solid chest now presses against your back when he hugs you from behind. Or fucks you from behind. And you miss it - god how much you miss it - the way his big fat cock feels against your walls and how it seems to split you almost in half - even after all these years together. But even though Frankie doesn't seem to be repulsed by you – he hasn’t tried any moves on you since the birth of your baby girl and the thought of him not finding you attractive anymore bruises your beating heart. 

 He can sense the change in your body language – the press of your ass against his crotch, your head bumping onto his shoulder and he digs his blunt nails into your hip, the hand that was holding your chin smoothing over the soft skin of your now exposed throat, down between the valley of your breasts and stopping on your stomach. He feels you tense and he places a delicate kiss on your neck – the feel of his beard sending shudder down your spine. A silent moan falls out of your lips when his tongue pokes out to suck on your skin and you feel him smirk against you – the scrape of his teeth making you writhe under his touch. You don’t want to feel this way anymore – unattractive and worthless – and it seems Frankie can read your mind as he meets your eyes when you open them and look at him in the mirror. A hushed: “Tell me what do you need” is said between the soft nips left on your nape and it's hard to concentrate with the way his deft fingers toy with the hem of your dress.  

 Francisco Morales is a patient man – he can wait hours for a target to show up or wait while you shop for new clothes -he especially enjoys when you buy new langerie. And he is equally as patient now as he waits for your answer. Basking in the way you just let him hold you after so long without tensing up immediately. You are now putty in his hands which explore your new body he hasn’t had a chance to really touch. And he absolutely fucking loves it. He loves all of the new curves and how his calloused fingers dip into your soft flesh. He traces it with a newfound adoration and appreciation for you. You birthed his daughter and he cannot believe you are so strong and perfect – his exquisite little wife. He wants to show you how fucking much he adores you – all of you. And so he waits for your answer – he roughly exhales when he hears the low “Just need you, Francisco” as you squeeze one of his hands holding your upper thigh. 

He nods – once, twice – before he carefully unzips your floral dress which falls from your shoulders. He presses light kisses into the crook of them and he moves to kiss your shoulder blades, his fingers tracing the beauty marks adorning your back. His touch is electrifying and you whine his name pathetically when he squeezes one of your tits tenderly. The shiver that runs down your spine slowly makes its way into your limbs when he sinks onto his knees and drags your dress down along with him – you want to say that he shouldn’t – his knees will hurt tomorrow if he keeps kneeling on the floor but he muffles your protest when his teeth sink into the meat of your ass – his tongue smoothing the sting he leaves there. The words he says are slurred when he inhales your scent – his nose pressing into your cunt shamelessly, his fingers spreading your ass cheeks open.  

 “Missed this pretty pussy, querida.” You want to tell him you missed this too – his fingers digging into your flesh and his tongue on you. Frankie is not much of a talker – everyone who knows him knows that. He just sits and listens - sometimes he quipps something or joins the conversation after a while and he is content with that. But in the bedroom? That’s a different kind of Frankie – you call him “pussy drunk Morales” and it's pretty accurate. He can spend hours between your thighs and he is just as happy and content with it as you are – if not more. He is a talker in bed and when you first slept together it surprised you – and it was a welcome surprise for sure. “Gosh, I am gonna make you feel so good, hermosa. Want you to watch how I finger you in the mirror.” And he also isn't shy to tell you what he wants in bed.

You swallow thickly – your Adam's apple bobbing – when you can see his hands dip lower, smoothing them along your ankles and then back up – his thick fingers moving with preciseness. He knows your body like his own and he can map out every single sensitive spot on it with his eyes closed. Frankie wants to please and his mission is to do so - the inner pilot in him sitting in the front seat whenever you two have sex together. He knows which buttons to push at the right time and which not - to wait out. You whimper and try to push your hips against him – too impatient, to wound up. The small chuckle that cuts through the – other than that - quiet room makes you want to jump his bones right then and there. He enjoys it when you squirm in his grasp but tonight he is just as needy as you. It's been so long – too long – since he last touched you like this.

“I am gonna give you exactly what you need, baby.” You believe him – he always gives you exactly what you need – and more. His hands spread your ass cheks open once more and he fucking spits on your gaping hole. You jolt at the sudden action but he holds you close. He coats his finger in the spit, putting pressure on the tight ring of muscle whispering “another time”. And you are so so desperate – you'd let him do anything to you right now. Not that other times you wouldn’t - he proved to you over and over again that he will make anything incredible for you.

He is slow with it – as he enters you with one of his fingers, adding the second one right after and he hisses when your walls squeeze them. The thickness of them makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, closing your eyes you focus only on the feeling of being so fucking full and when he moves, your hand shoots back – tossing his hat off and gripping his hair. He fucking loves it -your fingers curling into his locks and he feels your nails scrape against his scalp. He wants more, needs more – and so do you. So he starts moving the fingers inside of you and the moans that fall out of your mouth are worth every fucking minute that was building up to this moment.

“Look at yourself, querida. Look at how fucking wrecked you look for me.” His voice is strained and you as he says – you always do. And the sight that you see makes your heart bit a little faster, and the muscles in your cunt pull tighter. You see Frankie's head poking out to watch too – his lips ghosting across your outer thigh while his fingers keep working inside of you. His hair is wild – and you grip him tighter by it– his face twists in pleasure and it makes him speed up, makes his finger hook and pat your walls with a newfound want. Your mouth hangs wide open, your brows furrowed, the bead of sweat running down your neck disappearing between the valley of your breasts. You see every reaction to his onslaught – every twitch in your muscles, every inch your mouth opens wider in pure bliss, even the way your breath picks up when Frankie presses against something incredible inside of you and you tell him to keep going.

You see the way the muscles in his neck strain – the vein on it clearly visible to your hungry eyes now. You spot the way one of his hands fists his cock that strains against the flimsy sweatpants. Every time he groans against your flesh quick “Fuck, so fucking pretty,” every time he whispers “Make me feel so good, want you to feel so good too, querida,” only brings you closer and closer to the edge. It's written all over your face – the hunger – carnal and selfish. And you want to cum, you feel the coil in your belly pulling tight but it's not enough and you sob in frustration. Your fingers flex in Frankie's curls and you plead for something – anything. You almost cry when he pulls away – his fingers leaving your fluttering cunt.

His fingers are coated with you and he doesn’t want to waste even a single drop – bringing them to his mouth he moans at your tangy taste, closing his eyes. He swats your thigh when you plead him “Frankie, Frankie, please, please. I was so close” and he just shushes you with “I know, baby, I know” after he pulls his fingers out of his mouth and stands up – groaning at the flash of pain that shoots through him. He turns you quickly and his hungry mouth is on yours not even a second later – the first time he kisses you tonight and you moan into his mouth as he “shares” your taste with you that sits heavy on his tongue. It's slow and soft and his grip on your hip doesn’t falter, his other hand bringing you closer – pressing against your lower back. Your fingers curl into the soft cotton of his shirt – holding him in place. Kissing his bottom lip first – your teeth scrape it and you give the same attention to the lower lip. The kiss makes you warm and fuzzy, it makes something in your chest bubble with an infinite love for this man - your man -in front of you.

He's warm and solid under your palms and his hand snakes onto the hinge of your jaw – opening your mouth wider, craving more. You hold onto him tighter, sighing deeply as his tongue explores your mouth. It makes your toes curl and when he pulls away you are breathless – your breath coming in short huffs. He doesn’t look much better – his hair is tousled, hair sticking in every direction and your hands try to slick it back but it's no help. You want to bury yourself in him, in the way he makes you feel so damn protected and loved. You chase his mouth again but he just gives you a quick peck and gifts you a broad grin that you want to kiss away.

“Go and sit on edge of the bed, hermosa.” You quirk an eyebrow at him but eventually turn – with a shake of your hips you comply with his request – sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing your arms over your stomach as you watch Frankie slowly undress. His shirt comes off first and you lick your lips when you see the expanse of his back, the muscles flexing deliciously when he grabs the mirror and brings it to you – and wait, why the fuck is he bringing the mirror to the edge of the bed? He places it in front of you and stands next to it looking at your bare skin – licking his lips and you try and shield away from his gaze – the nasty thoughts still screaming at you at the back of your mind – and maybe Frankie really is pretending. Maybe – maybe-

“You still with me, baby?” The term of endearment falling from his lips makes you fucking emotional and you nod when he kisses one of your hands – pressing butterfly kisses to each and every one of your knuckles– kneeling in front of you. He grabs your hands – pulling them away from your stomach – soft and flabby now with stretch marks adorning it and you look away because he is so close you feel the ghost of breath against it and he must feel so disgusted by you – you don’t wanna see it in his eyes. He grasps your chin and orders you to look at him – when you do you see no disgustment in his eyes – nor is he pulling away from you like you expected him to. “Don’t want you to hide from me, querida.” He mumbles against the skin on your wrists and he shifts on his knees – getting closer to you. He touches your inner thighs softly and then his hands move higher – sliding over your hips and onto your tummy. He moves you even closer to him. His lips dance across your belly now – the pads of his fingers dipping into the curves on it and he hums when he feels you slowly relax.

After he is happy with his efforts on you – pecking every fucking inch of your “So undeniably gorgeous” body as he whispers filth onto your skin – your brain stops working after a while and all you can think of is Frankie when hovers above you. Tucking your hair behind your ear he kisses your collar bone and his hand moves behind your head – his forehead bumps with yours and the other hand strokes your sensitive nipple – you whimper and your hot breath tickles his face. “Baby, you gonna sit on my face and you will watch yourself in the mirror while I eat you out, yeah?” It seems like a question but it isn't – at least not really. Frankie wants you to sit on his face and there's no room to argur about it. He is good at giving orders – and you are glad to follow them. Your inside twists in anticipation when you nod.

It's certainly not the first time Frankie asked you to sit on his face - because this man loves to eat pussy – for breakfast, lunch and dinner. From the back, front - on a counter, floor, couch. Pretty much everywhere and anytime. When you first started seeing each other and he told you he “wanted to eat your pussy” you just laughed – thinking he must be kidding. But when you looked at him you learned that he was completely and utterly serious and didn’t understand what was so funny about it. And god, he was incredible in it. He would spend days between your thighs if you'd let him.

He flips you both over – you are now on top of him and him under you. Your thighs lay on the side of his narrow waist. You feel him through the material of his sweats - feeling the wet spot on them - and you make an experimental roll of your hips – his hands flying out to stop your efforts as he groans. “Up, baby. Gosh, missed your pussy on my tongue. Come on, up, up. Please, querida, please -” His nails dig into the flesh of your ass when you start moving up his body – your nails scratching his nipples as you do – and his hips buck up, pleading with you “Please, please, baby, need that wet pussy on my mouth.” He is lewd with his words and you grip him by the hair when you hover above his head, his neck strains when he tries to reach your dripping core - just a little taste- but you push his head back down and look at yourself in the mirror – your hair is wild and so are your lust blown eyes. You look sexy - powerful- when you see how this man writhes under you and wants “Just a little taste, hermosa. Give me a taste. God, this pussy was made for my mouth.” Your chest swells with incredible need for the feel of his tongue, his touch, him.

He pulls you down on him and your hands fly from his hair onto the mattress as your fingers grip the cool sheets. The first swipe of his tongue against your folds makes your head fall back and Frankie watches with hungry eyes your reactions – his hands coming to hold yours in his. His palms are a little sweaty under you and he feels like he is on fucking fire while he licks into your cunt as you clench around his tongue. He muffles something against you and you look down at him – he looks so fucking blissed out that it makes you whine as you buck against his mouth. He squeezes your fingers between his and pulls away from your sopping folds, pressing wet kisses onto your inner thighs. “Look at yourself, baby. Fuck, this cunt was so fucking needy to feel my mouth on it. Wasn’t it?” You nod frantically and you look back into the mirror when his tongue swirls against your clit, your back arching.

The swell of your breasts calls for his attention and he pulls one of his hands away from yours – your free hand grips his hair when he toys with the nipple between his fingers –a trickle of milk beading from it and that makes him hungry for more as he mutters a quick “Fuck yes.” His tongue plunging into you and he fucking loves the sounds you make for him. The sweat on your skin builds up with your upcoming orgasm. You start grinding onto his face and he moans in agreement, his eyes closing in concentration because – fuck – he needs you to soak his face. “Yeah, use me, baby. Just like that, c'mon. Fuck my face. I want it,” He growls - you do as you are told and Frankie is unable to form any other words, his jaw locking as he tries to not let a single drop go to waste, brows furrowing. His hand slaps you across your ass and soothes the sting with his palm, it burns your skin and you plead him to do it again, again, and again-

If anyone tried to tell you Frankie doesn’t enjoy eating pussy you'd tell them they are fucking crazy. Because you feel it from the way vibrations come out of his chest, his fingers tighten against you and he is so fucking deprived to feel more of you, always wants more of you. And he is also the fucking best at this – all calculated swirls and licks of his tongue, efficient swipes of the pink muscle against your walls, on your clit. “Fuck, baby. Gonna cum, Francisco. You are gonna make me cum!” You squeal and he doubles his efforts – his mouth sucking on your clit, and you look away from the mirror as you gaze down at him and he wants you to cum but also doesn’t want to this to stop, never wants to stop. It makes you keen under his touch. He doesn’t pull his mouth away from you to tell you to “Yeah, fucking soak this face. Want this needy little pussy to squeeze me tight.” he just keeps going and it only takes two or three swipes of his tongue against your bundle of nerves before you are cumming – soaking his face as he wanted.

You aren't sure which one of you is louder – your ears ring and you are pretty sure you passed out as white-hot pleasure shoots through your entire body – making your nerves feel like they are on a fucking fire. When you come back from your senses and feel he isn't stopping – wants to clean you up but it feels like too much and you try to push his head away and scramble from him but his hands lock on your hips as he holds you close. And then he kisses you on your pussy – butterfly kisses pressed against your clit, your folds as he breathes you in – your curls tickling him on a nose. You slowly move down his torso and he can feel how wet you still are on his skin. He slowly sits up and grins at you – it's a sight to behold. His beard is all shiny with your slick and he licks his lips as he holds you close – pulling you by the head to kiss your already awaiting lips. His hard-on presses against your bare core and you sigh into his mouth when you feel him twitch against you – grabbing him and he quickly pushes your hand away – breaking from the kisses. “Querida, I am gonna cum in my pants if you keep doing that. I almost did. You make me hard as a fucking rock.”

“Would that be so bad?” You grin against his mouth and he whispers “cheeky” before his tongue enters your mouth once again – the taste of you makes your head spin. His fingers dance against your searing skin and you lounge in this moment of post-sex intimacy. His nose traces your jaw as he kisses you on it and he nuzzles against your neck when you kiss him on the top of his head.

“Hm, not really. It would just mean I'd have to eat you out again before I could sink my cock into this sweet cunt.” He says the dirty words as easily as he asks how was your day. It makes the tip of your ears turn a deep red color and you giggle breathily.

“You have a foul mouth. Has anyone told you that before?” He hums when you massage the back of his scalp – your nails scratching the spot behind his ear and he almost but purrs.

“I believe you did. Once or twice, or anytime we fuck.” He throws you a toothy grin.

He nips at the skin on the crook of your shoulder and suddenly the atmosphere changes once more – his hips buck up when you swirl your bare cunt on him. The press of his lips against you is now more urgent, dire and he whimpers when your hand takes him from his boxers – your thumb circling the red head as a bead of precum spurts out. He spits out a quick “fuck” before he is throwing you onto the mattress – shucking his sweatpants off of him and he is scrawling back to you seconds later. He handles you like a ragdoll – you face the mirror as he kneels behind you, your face smushed against the sheets as you watch his ministrations, his hands hooking under your hips to hold you as he pleases. His cock throbs against the back of your thigh and one of his hand tugs lazily on his cock – notching it at your entrance and coating the head in your wetness.

“I am gonna fuck you so so good, baby. And you will watch.” He reaches forwards and grips your chin making you look directly into the mirror – the soft belly of his pressing against your lower back as he does so and it makes you moan in concurrence. You see the flash of white teeth in the mirror before he is pushing into your already awaiting and fluttering cunt. The moans you both let out as he pushes all the way in are downright lewd. Your walls are sensitive and you can feel every vein and ridge of his cock. The thickness of him makes it feel like he is in your guts and you choke when shifts – the head of him brushing against something glorious inside of you. He notices when the muscles in your pussy squeeze him tighter and he focuses on the spot – not really moving, trying to find the right angle.

You cry out when he makes an experimental thrust of his hips and it never felt this way before. He chuckles in pure happiness because he knows he found it and he bends closer to you – his dick pushing deeper, deeper – so he can whisper into your ear. “Oh, baby. This will feel so fucking good for you. Fuck, let me hear you.” You don’t hear him as clearly because you feel like you are falling in and out of consciousness every time his cock passes through your walls. He pulls back away – his fingers tangling into your hair and pulling you back by it – the quick nip of his teeth on your ear making you look at him in the mirror. “Told you to watch, so you will watch, yeah?” You nod – not trusting your voice as your throat closes down on you. He grips you tighter, and the pads of his other fingers pet your clit. “I need to hear you say it, baby. Tell me what a girl you are and that you will watch as I fuck you on my big fat fucking cock.” You hear the snarl in his voice and he stops moving, his teeth sinking into the flesh on your shoulder. “C'mon, tell me. Tell me, baby.” He orders and you sob – you look and sound pathetic and Frankie loves everything about it.

“Yes, baby – Frankie, I will watch how you fuck me on your big fat cock. Please, just move. Please, please, please -” The breath is knocked out from your lungs when he does, his hands falling from your hair as he traces his fingers down your spine and you try to watch as he told you. You watch his face as he watches how he disappears in and out of your fluttering cunt, how his hair bounces with his every movement, how his hand now grips your hip moving you closer to him. You see the way you are completely fucked out, how your mouth opens wider with every pass of his cock – you see the way he bends down and slows his movement just so he can lick the salty sweat rolling down the base of your spine. All you can do is whimper when he pulls back and seems to only concentrate on his cock inside of you.

He angles his hips and when he pushes deeper inside of you – his balls smacking against the meat of your ass – you want to crawl away from him because it feels like you are going to pee. The calloused pads of his fingers circle your clit and he plunges his dick onto that spot over and over again – you plead with him to stop, it feels too fucking good and you don’t know if you can handle it. He smacks you once, twice, three times – his fingers digging on that spot where it stings and it's too much – all too much. You feel the coil inside of you snap and your chest falls onto the mattress, the intense pleasure crashes into you in waves and you faintly hear Frankie hiss as he pulls out of you as you soak him - his pubic hair drips in with your slick and the sheets are wet but he wants you to do it again.

“Yes, yes. Fuck, baby. You soaked me. Want you to do it again. Can you do it again?” He doesn’t wait for your answer before he plunges into you again and you keep repeating his name like a prayer when you feel another wave crashing through your body – you press your ass into him more and he hisses. You vaguely feel the wet press of his tummy against your lower back and he pulls away from you completely as you plop onto the mattress. You hear the slick of his fists on his cock and you muster the energy to raise your head to look into the mirror. He jerks of, the movements of his fists frantic and the muscles in his biceps flex with every pass of his arm. His neck is strained as he throws his head back and cums – the ropes of pearly white liquid falling onto your back. He falls right on top of you – careful not to crush you. It's quiet for a long while and then he slowly moves away from you – you whine in protest as you hear the sound of his feet against the tiled floor.

When he comes back you feel a warm towel on your back as he cleans you up – carefully swiping it between your thighs as well. You feel the bed dip under the weight of him – pulling you on top of him. You listen to the rapid beating of his heart slowing down as he draws patterns onto your spine, kissing you on the forehead. A hushed conversattion between you two as you open up to him - about the way you felt since birth - and he swears to you that tommorow both of you will look for help - so you can talk to a professional about it. And if it is possible - you swear your love for him grows after his quiet promise.

He grins then and you raise your head to throw him a questioning look.

“I made you squirt, baby.” He says it with smugness in his voice and you swat him on the shoulder, grinning too.

“Don't be so smug about it. We both know you are too freaking good in bed, Francisco. So really, it was only a matter of time.” After the sex fog in his brain fades away he is back to his sheepish self as one of his hands rubs his neck at your compliment.

“Was it good, though?” Only Francisco Morales could ask such a stupid question after he made you see stars.

“Yeah, baby. I thought I passed the fuck out at least three times. That’s how good it was.” You kiss his peck and he hums, stroking your hair and you start to feel hungry – your stomach rumbling and he laughs, and reaches for his phone on the bedside table.

“So, because we didn’t make it to dinner what do you want me to order? Pizza, sushi, chinese?” He lists and you think about it before you blurt out “chinese” and he nods, pecking your lips quickly. Before he calls to order though you say: “Love you, Frankie.”

A boyish smirk makes its way onto his face and he looks younger like this – like he has no worries in his life. The dim light in the bedroom makes his golden skin shine and you think about how the heck did you get so lucky. “Love you too, querida.” He says as he presses another kiss onto your forehead.

[kirsteng42]

I always reblog this as I love it so much and these are my favourite PP boys….

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Blind Dates and One Night Stands [Frankie x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

My Frankie Morales masterlist

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x you (cishet f!reader)

Warnings: reader wears a thong, cunnilingus (duh, it's frankie!), piv sex, multiple orgasms, frankie is flustered and cute!, but also smoldering and hot! safe sex, also frankie is a big boy but we already knew that, some drinking but not too much.

Summary: Frankie has a blind date that doesn't work out, but maybe the night goes well anyway?

Words: 3,639

A/N: I feel like I haven't written in months, but that's not entirely true. I feel rusty, however. I hope you like this.

Update: There is a sequel! One Night Stands and Phone Numbers.

Frankie's leg is vibrating restlessly, feet perched on the metal footrest of the bar stool. He takes his cap off, swipes his hair to the side, and puts it back on, then takes it off again. Maybe he shouldn't be wearing a hat, it's impolite. But without a cap, he feels formal, and he doesn't want that. He puts it back on, then glances at his wristwatch.

She's late.

Cursing out Benny again for this idea, Frankie shakes his head at the bartender who looks at him with a raised eyebrow. No, he's not ordering yet. He has to wait for his date, the woman Benny set him up with. "She's cute, blonde, and friendly," his younger comrade in arms had reassured Frankie. "You need someone to take care of you, or at least get laid."

Frankie had finally agreed to meeting the woman, if only to get Benny off his case. But he was starting to regret it.

He regrets it even more when the woman finally shows up. She's nice enough, and definitely cute, but Frankie can tell almost immediately that this is not going to work. She seems to want to make an effort, though, and he chides himself for not just excusing himself and putting a stop to this.

Because he doesn't put a stop to it, he ends up sitting with her through two orange umbrella drinks, while he himself nurses a beer. At some point his date seems to understand that there's no future for the two of them, downs the rest of her drink, and calls her friend who's been on stand-by to drive her home if the need arose.

Frankie very dutifully gives her a quick hug and watches her leave the bar before he sighs deeply.

Another one bites the dust.

He takes his hat off, runs his fingers through his hair, scratches the back of his head. This is getting exhausting. Sure, not everybody gets to experience the love story of the century, but how is even just a night of good sex with a nice person so hard to reach?

Leaning against the counter, he gets the attention of the bartender, and orders a Scotch. Might as well get fucked up.

"Comin' right up."

You pour the man whose broad shoulders are hunched in defeat a whisky. He wanted it neat, and you make it a double because you feel so sorry for him.

"On me," you say as you place the glass in front of him. His eyebrows shoot up and you give him a lopsided smile.

"That was a terrible first date."

"First and only," he confirms.

"Good," you nod. "Never waste any more time on bad dates."

"I'll drink to that." He lifts the glass and nods at you. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Over the next couple of hours, you return to the guy with the Standard Oil baseball cap to chat between customers. He's easy to talk to, drinks slowly, is interesting and funny - and really handsome. You feel his gaze on you when you pull beers for the increasingly inebriated crowd, and you find yourself wishing that his eyes could be on your ass (which looks really good in these jeans) and not on the back of your head. It's speaks for him that he clearly finds your intelligence attractive as well, but there's something about him that makes you want him to look at your body and go, "damn".

A quick glance at the clock on the wall tells you that you'll be closing in two hours, and the customers are already thinning you. You sway your hips as you do a lap around the room to pick up empty glasses and wipe down a couple of tables, and when you return to the bar, you find the man staring at you, just like you wanted him to.

And it turns you on more than you could have imagined.

You decide to employ a cheap trick, so when you come back around the bar for a chat, you bend over it for a lazy lean that displays your rack. You even fold one arm underneath your tits and frame them with the other, coquettishly propping your chin on your hand. And bless him, he looks you straight in the eye even with the soft swell of your tits right in front of him. You detect a hint of color on his cheekbones, though, and it makes you like him even more. He's a gentleman, perhaps even shy.

When it's time to close, he stays behind to help you stack chairs on the tables. He easily keeps up the conversation - the topic is baseball, turns out both of you played in high school - and eventually accepts your offer of a nightcap. You hop up on one of the barstools, a whisky in hand, and he slides onto the seat of the one next to yours.

"How did you find her?" you ask, sipping your drink. He raises an eyebrow, not understanding, so you make a gesture in the general direction of the stool where his date from earlier tonight sat.

"Oh. Right. Um, buddy of mine set it up. He thought it was a good idea."

"Your buddy is a terrible matchmaker," you judge. He laughs.

"That he is, but he means well."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, isn't that the saying?"

"I guess it is."

You take another small sip of your whisky, feeling it burn all the way down to your belly. It might be the sleep deprivation in combination with the alcohol, but you blurt out:

"You might still get lucky too, if you play your cards right."

He raises his chin a little as he stares you down. "I've never been good at playing cards."

"That's a shame," you shrug, feeling your cheeks heat.

"So, for the sake of just speeding this up... what do I have to do to get permission to kiss you?"

Your heart is beating so hard and fast that you almost feel light-headed.

"You just need to ask," you manage, your voice a little shaky. He smiles, and it doesn't look like the confident grin of a player, no, he looks like a little boy who just found out he could have another cookie.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks quietly, and he barely has time to make his request before you're nodding:

"Yes!"

The relief is plain to see, and he slides down from the barstool so that he can get closer to you. When he leans in, you can smell his cologne, and when he very gently puts his hand on your arm, you can feel him tremble a little.

There is something about the tentative teasing of his lips,  the bristles on his upper lip, the fullness of the lower one that drives you wild. You're usually not this forward with a complete stranger - you realize that you haven't even asked his name yet - but it's like he makes something just snap in you.

"What's your name?" you ask, and he blushes slightly. Shit, that's hot.

"Frankie," he introduces himself, and you taste his name, let the syllables roll off your tongue, before telling him yours.

And then you kiss him, devour his mouth, take his hands, and place them on your ass, thread your fingers through his hair. His hat falls to the floor somewhere behind him, and he's kissing you back, like he wasn't all blushing and timid only moments earlier. He grabs handfuls of ass and squeezes, pulls you snugly against himself. He's getting stiff, and there's something so primal and pure in that. You're just two people meeting each other by chance and being turned on by each other, and it spurs you into making him harder, so you eagerly rub yourself against him. He moans into the kiss, and it's the sexiest sound you've ever heard. You tear your mouth from his and meet his gaze that is somehow both hazy and intense. Your hands land on his belt buckle.

"Can I?"

"Please."

So polite. You tear open the belt buckle and his fly, and Frankie wants to reciprocate.

"May I?" he asks, as if you aren't ripping his jeans to shreds. You grin.

"Absolutely."

His gaze drops down to your fly as he deftly undoes the button and pulls down the zipper. His breathing is audible, just like yours, and then his hand is down the front of your ass-hugging jeans. One long finger is pressed along your slit, the tip teasing in between your warm, damp folds.

You catch your lower lip between your teeth and exhale in a small moan. So eager that you're almost too rough, you shove your hand down his underwear to find a thick, stiff shaft.

Oh. Working his jeans and underwear down his ass cheeks, you release his cock, eyes widening when you see it.

Frankie notices your reaction.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you assure him, "it's just... you're really big."

He slides one finger inside you as he leans in and nuzzles your neck, before touching his lips to your ear: "Don't worry, I'll make sure you're wet enough to take me."

You are shaken to the core by the smooth rasp of his voice, the words, the way he now inches his finger into you.

"Please do," you manage, and Frankie pulls his hand out of your pants. He grabs you by the waist and hoists you up on the barstool. You hold onto his shoulders, so wide they take up almost all in your vision field, so very secure and you imagine that they're perfect to hold on when life is stormy, and you need something stable in your life. He devours your mouth again, kisses you full of his whiskey breath before he asks you, in that same raspy, low voice that makes the hairs stand on the back of your neck:

"Can I go down on you?"

Mutely, you nod, and he helps you to get rid of your jeans. You're wearing a thong, not your usual underwear but there's just something about the way your ass looks in those jeans without any extra layer underneath, and you hook your thumbs under the thin straps, but Frankie shakes his head.

"Keep it on. Hold onto the counter. Careful, don't want you to fall."

Touched by his concern and turned on by his request to keep the flimsy garment on, you carefully lean back, supported by your elbows, on the bar. Frankie moves in between your legs, spreading them, and kisses you breathless again, before starting to trail kisses down your neck, over your cleavage, his hands pushing up your tits towards his eager lips and tongue. He then skips the part of you that's still covered by your shirt, and comes to his knees, putting him right in front of your displayed pussy. You wait with bated breath, sliding down a little on the stool to give him better access, your cheeks burning at the way he keeps intense eye contact with you. He has gorgeous eyes, beautifully brown, soulful, and absolutely filthy right now, with the way he stares right into your soul, like he's already fucking you. Gone is the bashfulness from before, and the change is thrilling.

"Is this okay?" he asks, still all polite as if he wasn't smirking like a little devil. You let out a breathless chuckle and try to sound sassy.

"You sure talk a lot."

"Hey, consent is sexy."

A retort is forming in your brain, but Frankie doesn't give you time to finish it: without breaking eye contact, he leans in and presses his mouth and chin to your dripping pussy, his tongue probing in between your slick lips. All you can produce is a choked gasp at the sudden intensity, and you grab hold of Frankie's thick hair as he lifts both your legs over his shoulders.

"You steady?" he wants to know, and you nod frenetically.

"Don't stop now."

He grins at you, and then he utterly rocks your world. The way he uses his tongue, his mouth, his prickly chin on you is goddamn magic, you've never had anyone eat you out like this before. He's everywhere at once but not in a disarrayed way, like he doesn't know what he's doing, oh no, he seems to know exactly what he's doing as he alternates with long, stiff licks along your slit, tongue dipping inside you before drawing out your juices and his saliva in a swirl around your clit, ending in a soft suckle, his mustache scratching you just right. His arms are around your thighs, holding you securely to him, and that's good because your arms aren't really doing their part anymore as you writhe on the stool, overcome by the fervor with which Frankie is pushing you towards a release that almost feels intimidating. Holy shit, he's going to kill you with this orgasm, oh God, oh shit, shit, shit, shit...

You don't realize that you've been going Oh God, oh shit, oh shit, oh fuck at a steady pace for a few minutes until the volume of your own voice becomes so loud that you yourself are startled by it. Frankie's now focused on your clit, tongue working faster than you thought was possible, and your hips have started to move, seeking more friction, more and more and more.

"I'm cumming," you announce in a shrill gasp, never once thinking about how stupid it sounds in porn when anyone with eyes can clearly see what's happening, no, you must let him know, Frankie has to know that you're about to come apart under his tongue, that he's making you cum now, right now -

The orgasm is just as intense as you feared, and so much better than you ever imagined. You're actually screaming, which has only happened once before and that was that time you got drunk on a Saturday night and edged yourself with your Magic Wand for hours before you finally let yourself orgasm.

When you come back to some form of rational thought, your eyes blinking open against the faint lights of the bar, your ass is cramping, and your neck is sore. Thighs shaking, you nudge Frankie away from you, and let your legs down, a whine finding its way over your lips when he gives your throbbing clit one last lick.

He grunts when he gets up from his knees, and you realize dimly that both of you are perhaps a little too old for acrobatics like these, but there is no mistaking his proud smile when he comes up to kiss you. His lips are unbelievably slick from you, and you hum into his mouth.

"Am I wet enough for you now?"

"So fucking wet, baby," he assures you in a voice that makes you clench. His cock is rock hard against your thigh, and you mumble something about condoms.

"I've got rubbers," Frankie immediately assures you, and reaches into his pocket for his wallet. You take the condom from him and take a firm yet gentle hold of his thick cock. Christ, but it's thick, this is going to be intense. Frankie's eyelids flutter and he lets out a groan when you slowly stroke him a couple of times before putting the rubber on. This is fun, you think with an evil grin, you could do a lot more damage to him if you weren't dying to have him inside you.

"There," you whisper, taking his cock and pushing your soaked thong to the side so that you can slide him through your lips to lube him up. "I want you to fuck me now, Frankie."

He captures your lips in a searing kiss as you nock him at your entrance and let him start inching into you. Even with how wet you are, and how slow he's going, he still takes your breath away.

"You can take it," he growls, his low tone vibrating through him and into you. "You're doing great, baby..."

Holding onto him, you lift your legs and wrap them around him, hooking your feet by his ass, to lessen the angle of entry, but it's still a tight fit, God, he's big but feels so good, you want him to fucking ruin you.

He pulls back a little before pushing back in, and your moan gives him pause.

"Am I hurting you?"

"You're just really big," you blurt out inelegantly, smiling a little at his expression of alarm mixed with pride. "Maybe if we try it from behind?"

He pulls out and turns the stool around. You lean forward and brace yourself against the counter as you slide yourself to the back edge of the stool, angling yourself right. Frankie finds you, pulls your underwear to the side, and pushes in. He can't get as deep this way, but he still takes your breath away.

"Fuck, that's better," you moan, "take me hard, this is perfect!"

He takes orders well. With his large hands on your hips, he quickly finds a devastating rhythm that creates a filthy song of his thunderous panting in your ear, your loud moans, the slapping of skin against skin with each impact of his hips against your ass. Possessed by a new urgency, he paws at your tits, shoves one hand inside your bra to free one breast from the cup, the other hand still holding on to your hip, fingers digging into the flesh. His breaths are burning your neck, his cock is working you mercilessly, thrust after thrust after rough thrust, as his groans rise to a growl. You release one hand from the counter and put it over his to make him squeeze your breast. You want him to bruise you, want to feel him on your flesh, in the grip of your hungry pussy when you wake up tomorrow - later today. You don't know him, but you want to, you've never felt this way before with anyone, it's never been this easy with anyone, this easy and overwhelming. Fuck, you might even be able to cum again.

You slide your hand down to your sensitive clit, bracing yourself with one arm on the counter, Frankie draping himself over you from behind, fingers roughly pinching your nipple.

"One more for me," he huffs, "that's a good girl."

You cum almost immediately, his praise working wonders for you. As your squelching pussy flutters around him, Frankie's loud moan joins your wail. His hips stutter, then still, and his forehead falls to your shoulder as he catches his breath. You're shivering, parts of you stiff from strange positions and holding on, other parts like jelly. As you draw a trembling breath, you realize that you've dribbled saliva from one corner of your mouth, and you quickly wipe at your chin and slip down from the stool. Your legs almost buckle under you, but Frankie quickly catches hold of you.

"Easy."

"Thanks," you mumble, suddenly a little embarrassed. You've never been good at good-byes after the few one night stands you've had. Your thong chafes, your crotch is soaked, and you're feeling a little uncomfortable as the passion wanes and you're starting to feel the late hour.

Frankie's hand rests on your waist. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you hurry to reassure him, "I'm just... tired. It's late."

"It is." He takes off the condom, ties it up, then looks around for a trash can, finding one a few steps away. Having disposed of the rubber, he tucks himself in, and pulls up his pants.

"I had fun, though," he offers, his voice soft. You're just stepping into your jeans, and as you pull them up, you return his shy smile. Look at that, all raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens again.

"So did I," you reply, meaning it. "I had real fun, I mean... it was really good."

Both of you finish getting dressed in silence, then you do your final checks for the night, cash up, and turn off the lights. Frankie's with you as you lock up, and then you turn to him.

"Well... my car's over there." You point in the general direction of your parked car. Frankie gestures towards it, inviting you to start walking.

"I'll follow you to it. Make sure you're safe and sound."

Such a gentleman. It's half a block on a silent, empty street that you've walked down countless times before, but you don't mind the company, not to mention the gesture.

You yawn widely when you reach your car, and Frankie immediately asks if you're okay to drive.

"Sure," you promise him with a tired smile, "this isn't my first night shift. I don't have a long drive home, anyway."

"I could drive you," he offers, but you just shake your head and shoot him a flirty look.

"Then you'll just want to come up for coffee, and we both know how that story ends."

He chuckles, looking down at the ground. When you reach your car, he looks at you shyly.

"I got two questions before I can let you leave."

"Shoot."

"One: can I kiss you? And two: can I have your number?"

You pout and tilt your head, as if deep in thought.

"Yes to the kiss."

He immediately leans in for a surprisingly sweet kiss that ends way too soon.

"And the number?"

You grin mischievously.

"Come back tomorrow night so I'll know you're for real. Then you'll get my number."

He laughs at that, then stands watch as you get into your car, and drive away.

The next afternoon when you return to work, you find his baseball cap on the counter where the cleaner left it.

Now he definitely has to come back.

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his girl - ch. 16

Frankie and his girl make their way towards the nearest QZ in attempt to get to safety after being attacked. Less angst, more fluff now but you're not off the hook yet 😋

As always, all comments and reblogs are very welcome! I love hearing your thoughts on what I write! (and my asks are open if you wanna be anonymous)

Series master list if you want to start from the beginning

Chapter 17

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings have their own post and contain spoilers

Taglist:  @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko  @javicstories @welcometothepedroverse

Franklin isn’t far and when you start to see the suburbs of the town it’s still dark, Frankie slows down the car and pulls over to the side of the road. When it stops he cracks the windows and you both listen intently for any noise. In the distance you can hear wailing, inhuman sounding screams that can’t come from any other creature than the infected that are still in the city.

You hold your breath as Frankie’s hand hovers over the ignition, prepared to start up and drive, but the screams fade away, moving away from you.

“We’ll wait for morning, I don’t want to drive blind through the city in the dark,” Frankie says eventually, “You should get some sleep, I’ll keep watch.” 

“I don’t think I can sleep.” you say, keeping your voice low as you look out over the buildings spreading out in front of the car. Frankie looks over at you and in the corner of your eye you see him reach out for you, his warm, large hand enveloping yours. 

“You should try, cariño, you need to sleep,” his thumb is rubbing small circles into your skin and it feels so good. It’s the first time in months he’s done more than just cling to you in desperation and the small, gentle touch makes you want to cry again, but with relief this time. You blink back your tears, and give Frankie a small smile, tilting your head to look over at him. He smiles back at you, it’s small, and a far cry from his usual bright, warm smiles, but it’s a proper smile. It’s calming in some way, despite sitting in a car on a dark highway with the black city around you, filled with dangers, his smile is calm and more Frankie than you’ve seen in months. His hand leaves yours and caresses your cheek, his thumb leaving a warm pattern where it slides across the soft skin and you lean into it, closing your eyes. You hear him shift in his seat and then his warm lips are pressed against yours in a delicate kiss. You dare hardly kiss him back, afraid he’ll pull back and close down again, but he moves his lips against yours, the delicate tip of his pink tongue coming out to touch your bottom lip with a small lick. You feel a breath leave your mouth as you part your lips to him, an exhale you didn’t realize you’d been holding, and his tongue slips against yours. His hand is still on your cheek, his fingers tangling into the hairs at the back of your neck, holding you close to him. It doesn’t last long, a noise from the outside making you both jump and Frankie turns to scan your surroundings. But it was there, a small piece of softness from him that’s been missing for months. You thought it might’ve been lost but something shifted in Frankie tonight. 

Everything is still as bleak in his mind as it has been since he lost Lucìa, but instead of feeling numb, he feels needed. You need him and it’s as if he'd forgotten that in the past months. You don’t just need him to keep you safe, you need him, Frankie. And as that realization slips back into his mind he remembers that he needs you just as much. So he kisses you gently, feeling a small part of himself come back to life as he tastes your mouth again. 

Frankie’s parked the car on a small rise on the highway and you can see buildings around you, on a lower level. Clouds are drifting over the sky and a pale moon appears between them, casting a dim light over the city. Around you the buildings look normal, you can see glinting dark windows, neon signs that would’ve illuminated the streets before the outbreak, now they just look black and white under the eerie moonlight. Further up ahead the city’s small center of high rises look broken and shattered and you wonder if it’s an illusion or if something happened to make them look crumbled. 

“The buildings look strange,” Frankie says, apparently having the same thought as you, “it looks like a warzone.” He points at the tallest building, “it looks as if it’s been bombed, I’ve seen it before.” He squints through the windscreen at the dim landscape, picking out more tell tale signs of the destruction left behind by heavy bombs. “There’s a crater over there,” he points off to the left, the water filled hole glinting as the clouds part and let the moon shine through. 

“But why would they bomb Franklin?” you quiz, confusion on your face as you spot more water filled craters. “To stop the infection?” 

“Maybe,” Frankie says, his voice suddenly low and dark, “or to stop the infected.”

You look over at him with horror, “To kill the infected people? That’s crazy, Frankie, they couldn’t do that, they have to treat them, find a cure.” 

“I don’t know, cariño, maybe things got a lot worse than we thought? It was pretty bad when we left the apartment.” He takes hold of your hand again, rubbing his thumb over the back of it, “We’ll know more when we get to the quarantine zone, it’ll be good to have some more information.” 

You nod, gratefully holding on to his hand, as you look over the broken city scape. You think about the hopes you had that things would’ve calmed down, gone back to normal a bit, when you left the cabin. Now it seems worse than ever and you suddenly think about all your friends, and Frankie’s friends, Pope, Will and Hannah, Benny and his girlfriend, Denny, Lizzie, Sophia and Carys. 

“I wonder if we can find out what happened to everyone else when we get to Franklin,” you say, “maybe the Red Cross has some sort of information center set up. They usually do that in disaster areas, where you can leave your information and your family and friends can come and look for you.” 

You hear Frankie sigh from his spot behind the wheel, “Yeah, I really hope so. I wanna know what happened to the guys. Maybe…” his voice drifts off into silence and then a deep sigh, “I just hope they made it out, got to safety,” his voice is quiet and tense and you squeeze his hand, sending a quiet prayer to something you don’t even believe in anymore, that your friends are safe. 

Silence falls between you as the moon slowly moves over the sky, dipping low behind the broken high rises and the sky behind you begins to lighten. You’ve drifted off into an uneasy sleep and eventually Frankie gives you a gentle shake. 

“I’m gonna start driving again, cariño,” he says as you blink the sleep from your eyes and sit up straighter in your seat. The destruction of the city is clearly visible in the emerging daylight, the bombed out buildings stark against the pale blue sky. The car hums to life and picks up speed along the highway. It’s been cleared of cars and rubble, making the drive fairly straightforward, but anxious, as the buildings draw in closer. At one point a handful of infected come rushing out of a building towards the car and Frankie speeds up, losing them a few miles down the road. In the distance you can see a large sign that reads Franklin Quarantine Zone and Frankie takes the car off the highway and follows the only cleared road towards the wall that’s slowly coming into view. Ahead you can see that a large zone in front of the wall has been cleared of any buildings, a sort of no man's land between the bombed out city and the quarantine zone. Guard towers are set up along the top of the wall at regular intervals and even at this distance you can see the soldiers with rifles trained at the car. Frankie slows down as he drives the last block and as he passes a burnt out laundromat that inhuman screech goes up and five infected in ragged clothes come running out of the building at the driver’s side. One of them is fast enough to throw herself, you can still see that she is, or was, a woman, at Frankie's door as he floors the accelerator and speeds off towards the wall. The infected are running flat out behind the car and you feel panic rising. The wall has a large gate but it’s closed tight, when you reach it, there will be nowhere to go. 

“Frankie, what do we do?!” you call out, twisting in your seat to look at the infected that are still barreling after the car. “They’re not opening the gate!”

“Let’s hope they’ve got good aim,” he grits out between his teeth as he swerves to avoid a big pothole in the road. 

The wall draws closer and just as Frankie is forced to hammer the brakes, throwing the car into a fast three point turn to face the infected, the soldiers open fire. You watch as they flounder and fall as they are hit by a hailstorm of bullets just out of the car’s reach. The shooting stops and you wait, nothing else moves and the gate behind you remains closed. Frankie cautiously opens the car door and gets out, looking up at the closest guard tower. Shielding his eyes with his hand he looks up at the tower, he can’t see the soldiers any longer, they’ve stepped back from the edge, but he calls up anyway. 

“We were attacked by looters last night, we lost all our supplies. We’re not infected and we need shelter.” He’s met by silence and he calls up at the tower again. “Hey, anyone? We need shelter, my fiance and me.” Again there’s no response and Frankie looks back at you. You’ve scooted over to the driver’s seat and you’re looking between Frankie and the road you just came down, fearing more infected are going to turn up. Your forehead is furrowed, a worried look on your face as you turn to Frankie again. He glances up at the tower and shouts, “Hey! Anyone?”

Finally someone leans over the tower wall and looks down at the two of you. You can’t make out the details but they’re wearing army fatigues and a ball cap pulled down low. 

“How many?” they ask, it’s a woman’s voice, calling down to Frankie, “How many of you?” 

“Two, my fiance and myself,” Frankie calls back up. 

“You have two choices,” the woman says, “spend two weeks in our quarantine enclosure inside the wall or stay out there. We can’t guarantee that you can stay in Franklin after your quarantine is up, we have limited space. You may be transferred to another quarantine zone.” Frankie looks back at you and you nod at him, you have no choice, without supplies or ammo for the guns your survival is very uncertain, even if you could make it back to the cabin for the few supplies you left there. 

“We’ll quarantine,” he calls back up. 

“Drive the car through the gate,” the woman calls back down at Frankie and he steps back, getting into the car as you scoot back to the passenger seat. 

Behind the gate is another no man’s land boxed off with tall chain link fences, barbed wire on top, and guard stations set up to oversee the quarantine procedure. The chain link fences form enclosed corridors that wind their way across no man’s land up to a second smaller wall. From the guard tower you’re directed to park the car and when you get out of it, you stop and look at the scene in front of you. Up ahead, by the second wall, you can see people, civilians, enclosed in holding areas with soldiers in guard towers watching them, rifles aimed at the people. There are about a hundred people, all lining up, while waiting to reach what looks like a checkpoint. You can’t see what’s happening at the checkpoint but the tension in the line of people is palpable even at this distance. Frankie comes round the car and steps in front of you, blocking your view of the line. 

“We’ll be fine, cariño,” he whispers, reassuring, “We’re not infected, we’ll just get through the quarantine and then we’re ok. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

He cups your cheek and then takes your hand, leading you over to the gate that opens up to the first part of the chain link fence corridor. Walking through it you soon realize it’s made up of several sections, designed to hold groups of people, locked gates separating each section from the next. The soldiers overseeing your walk through the winding corridor open up each gate as you reach it. Soon you’re at the section next to the end of the long line of people waiting. The gate in front of you remains closed as the people in the next section trickle through to the one in front of them. Eventually the gate opens for you and you can move into the next section. This continues for hours as the day drags on, interrupted only by the pleading cries when someone is deemed infected and put in restraints to be dragged away out of sight. At one point someone in the enclosure in front of you turns, the other people screaming in terror as the infected man tears into a young woman who’s been standing by his side all day. The soldiers in the guard tower let a volley of bullets rain down over the two and both crumple to the ground. The bodies stay on the ground until the rest of the people can move into the next enclosure, then four soldiers in protective gear appear and drag away the bodies. When the gate opens for you to walk into the next section of the corridor, you’re mindful to not step in the blood that stained the gravel dark, trying not to look at it. Frankie’s hold on your hand is tight and you lean into him as you wait by the next gate, your backs turned against the spot where the man and woman had just died. 

Water bottles are tossed into the enclosures as the day passes, but no food, and your stomach is grumbling loudly. The last food you had was breakfast the day before and as the adrenaline and shock of the past twenty fours fade, you’re left with hunger pains. Frankie tries asking the soldiers for food but they just ignore him, pretending to not hear, until one of them tosses another water bottle into the enclosure you’re currently waiting in and tells you they don’t waste food on potentially infected. 

There are more people behind you now, there seems to be a small but steady stream of survivors throughout the day. Several times you hear the infected shriek and scream behind the wall, out in the city, and the rifle fire from the guard towers as they take them out and assess if the survivors can come in. At one point a group of survivors are deemed already infected and they are told to wait outside the gate with the soldiers watching them from above. After a couple of hours you hear screams from outside the gate and gunshots. When a soldier comes to pass out more water Frankie asks what happened and the soldier just holds up his arms as if he was holding a rifle, pulling the imaginary trigger. 

Finally you get to the checkpoint, and the last door in the fence opens to let you into a small enclosure. What happens in the next enclosure is hidden from view by movable screens. Only one person is let in at a time and Frankie motions for you to wait while he goes first, giving you a quick kiss before he pulls his hand out of yours. Your pulse races as you strain your ears to hear what’s going on behind the walls but you can’t make anything out. As with almost everyone else, about five minutes pass and then you’re called forward. You step through the gate and into the enclosure, it’s small and empty, only a small bench on one side. At the far end, behind the sturdy chain link fence are two soldiers with their guns trained at you, and a woman in military uniform with a red cross on her arm. 

“We will be doing an ocular exam of your body for any bite marks and then a scan,” she says, pointing to the bench. “Take off all your clothes except your underwear.” 

You quickly do as she says, eager to get through to whatever area Frankie is being held in, putting your clothes on the bench and stepping up to the fence when she waves you forward. You stand with your arms spread wide as she examines both your front and back, finishing by asking you to put your neck close to a small opening in the fence. A handheld scanner is held up to your skin and after a few seconds it beeps. 

“You’re clear,” the woman says, “put your arm through the hole.” You do as she says and a green cable tie is loosely put around your wrist, tight enough so that you can’t take it off without breaking it. “Put your clothes back on and proceed through the next gate.” 

You get dressed and go through the gate as it’s beeped open by someone you can’t see. On the other side is another, larger enclosure, with more survivors. Frankie is waiting on the edge of the group, stepping forward the second you come through the gate, you can see the green cable tie on his wrist too. He envelopes you in a big hug as soon as you reach him and you bury your face in his soft flannel shirt, feeling his fingers tangle into your hair as he kisses the top of your head. 

“First step done, cariño,” he mumbles softly, before pulling you with him, away from the gate and towards the line that’s formed in the enclosure. Again you’re made to wait at a checkpoint and this time the line moves slower and when you finally get to the front, the sky above is dark. This time you’re both let into the army barrack that’s been set up. On the inside a row of what looks like prison bars have been installed, closing off two thirds of the barrack. Frankie and you step through the door into the smallest third, closed off from two soldiers and what looks like a commanding officer. Frankie spots the two silver bars on the man’s uniform, signaling that he’s a captain in the army. 

“Please state your name and occupation before the outbreak,” the captain says with a bored voice, a pen poised to take down your details. You go first, wincing at the way the man puts an X on your form instead of writing down your profession. Not even important enough to record you think. 

Frankie gives his full name and his civilian occupation as helicopter pilot and then hesitates, you feel it in the way he shifts his stance beside you, your hand still in his as you stand in front of the iron bars. Drawing a deep breath and exhaling he speaks up again. 

“But I served in the air force for thirteen years, Delta Force, as senior pilot, sir.” The captain, busy writing down Frankie's civilian occupation, stops and looks up at him with interest.

“That so, special ops?” he queries, tilting his head to the left, “can you prove it?” 

Frankie gives the man a level look and draws a breath, letting go of your hand, then he rattles off his rank and training, his commanding officer, his battalion and missions he’s participated in, all while the captain’s eyes grow wider. You look on in stunned silence. Frankie told you parts of his military background, some when you first met, some when he needed to unload, when the flashbacks and memories became too hard to hold on to by himself. But you’ve never seen him like this, he’s standing straight, hands clasped behind his back, eyes forward, full attention, sounding and looking more like a soldier than you’ve ever seen him. Even in his jeans, t-shirt and dirty flannel shirt, his hair in disarray, dark bruises from the beating he took yesterday, he looks every bit like a soldier, and you can tell the captain behind the bars sees it too, because he looks very pleased. 

“This is good news for both you and me, soldier,” he grins. “We need every able bodied man and woman we can find to keep this quarantine zone safe. We’ll put you through the two week quarantine, make sure you get extra rations to get your strength back, and then you’ll have a posting when you’re cleared for duty.” 

“And my fiancée?” Frankie asks, “We were told you send the people you don’t have room for to other quarantine zones, but she has to stay here with me.” 

The captain looks down at the X he’s just put in your occupation box and sighs, “I’m afraid she doesn’t have a skill useful for us in this QZ, we have all the menial workers we need. She’ll have to transfer to another QZ for now and when we have a need for extra workers, she can apply for a transfer back here.” 

Frankie shakes his head immediately, before the captain has stopped speaking and interjects, “If she can’t stay here, then I’m not staying either, I’ll go with her to another quarantine zone. If you want my skills then you have to make room for her too, I’m not leaving her.” 

The captain looks annoyed as he glances over at you and then back at Frankie before finally settling his eyes on the list of skills he’s jotted down next to Frankie’s name. He taps his pen a few times on the table, seemingly considering his options, before he finally looks up at you both again. 

“Ok, I’ll make an exception seeing as we really could use someone with your skills, Morales. She can stay and I’ll make room for her on the menial workforce.” You see him putting a check mark next to your name and Frankie’s before he looks up at you again. “Two weeks' quarantine, then you’ll be assigned lodgings, ration cards and a workforce position.” He points to a door opposite the one you came in through and only waves his hand in the air as you both thank him before walking out. 

As the door closes behind you, you draw a deep breath and Frankie puts an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close, “I said I’m not leaving you and I’m keeping that promise, cariño,” he says in a low voice as you move to another gate in a chain link fence. This gate leads to the quarantine area and you see multiple army tents set up along the perimeter of the second wall. This wall is not as big and looks less permanent, heavy concrete slabs put together with rounded concrete pipes set on top to make it harder to grip onto. The wall looks about thirteen feet tall but with a ladder you could scale it easily, but as you turn your head you realize the soldiers in the guard towers have their rifles trained on the quarantine zone too.

A woman on the other side of the fence assigns you to tent number five and slides two boxes of supplies, including food, through a small latch in the fence, explaining where the communal bathrooms are. Frankie grabs both of the boxes and leads you over to the tent marked with a large number five on the canvas ceiling. The light in the tent is dim, only a small oil lantern is lit next to one of the eight bunk beds where a man is reading by the faint light. He gives you both a small nod as you walk in and Frankie puts down the boxes next to the only unoccupied bunk bed in the tent, up against one of the back corners. Sitting down on the lower bed Frankie pulls you down beside him, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he rubs his warm hand up and down your side. 

“Two weeks, cariño, we’ll be fine. Then we can start figuring out what we’re gonna do next, ok?” You hear the nerves in his voice, it sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as you and you look over at him. He’s scanning the military tent, the bunk beds pushed up against the canvas walls, and his eyebrows are knotted tight, his fingers starting to dig into your shoulder. 

“Frankie,” you whisper, putting your hand on his cheek and pulling him to face you, “stay with me.” You lean your forehead against his and his eyes close as he exhales quietly, his warm breath ghosts against your skin.

“Too many memories,” he mumbles. 

“I understand my love, but just stay with me, I’m here too.” You caress his scruffy beard, running your thumb over his plush lip as his breathing slows down. 

Putting your hand over your mouth to hide a big yawn as your stomach grumbles, Frankie opens his eyes, looking a bit calmer. You’re hungry enough to eat anything but also tired enough to fall asleep leaning against Frankie’s shoulder right here. He bends down and digs through the first box, finding a can of ravioli that he cracks open and gives to you, along with a spoon.

“Eat this while I make our beds,” he says, nudging the can into your tired grip and you’re too exhausted to protest. Sitting on the wooden slats that make up the floor, you eat the ravioli cold as Frankie pulls out a few blankets from your boxes and make up the two bunk beds. There are no pillows but at least the blankets look warm and clean. You hand Frankie the second half of the ravioli and he scarfs it down as you rinse your mouth with water, there’s no toothbrush or toothpaste in the boxes. Kicking off your boots you start climbing to the top bunk but Frankie stops you. 

“Sleep next to me, cariño,” he whispers, pulling you close, “I need you close,” his eyebrows are drawn tight and you see anxiety in his dark eyes again even in the dim light and you nod. You wait until he’s removed his boots and slipped under the blanket of the narrow bunk bed. Then you lie down next to him, your back against his chest as he holds up the blanket. He tucks it in around you both and his nose is pressed against the back of your neck, his arm circling your waist. You seek out his hand and lace your fingers through his, holding it pressed against your chest and close your eyes. Frankie’s steady breaths at your neck helps sooth you to sleep even in the narrow bunk bed. 

You have your own nightmares now, startling you awake, but as Frankie’s nightmares make him cry out in his sleep, you wriggle around and rouse him from them, cupping his face in your hands. Gently stroking his cheeks you whisper sweet words to him in the dark tent, your voice barely a whisper, and he calms down. Circling you with his arms he buries his face against the crook of your neck and you lean your check against the soft flannel of his shirt and you drift off to sleep again. 

Frankie wakes up early the next day, you’re still pressed against his chest when another nightmare pulls him out of his sleep. Hazy images of a damp jungle through the window of a chopper, heavy machine gun fire and shouting rattles him enough to force his eyes open as something slams outside the tent. For a few seconds his heart races as he sees the dark green canvas wall and the bunk beds opposite, he can’t decide if he’s still dreaming or if he’s actually back in one of the endless military tents he’s slept in over the years. Then you move, pressing your face closer to his chest and he tightens his arms around you, the memories flooding back, both the good and the bad. Daylight is filtering through the open tent flap but he can see that several of the bunks are still occupied in the tent, a few of the inhabitants still sleeping. 

The arm he’s got under your head is uncomfortable and numb, gently he pulls it out from under you and watches as you wrinkle your nose and settle back to sleep. He lets his fingertips trail across your temple, pushing back a loose strand of hair and caressing your head, running his fingers through the soft locks. You don’t stir, only a soft mumble in your sleep, and he carefully climbs over you and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling his boots on. Tucking you in he goes in search of the toilets and some information, coming back just as you’re sitting up in the bunk. 

“Morning, cariño lindo,” he says in a low voice, sitting down on the edge and passing you a mug of coffee, “I found the cantina,” he smiles, “thought you might appreciate this.” 

“Thanks, Frankie,” you hum, taking the warm mug and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “How did you sleep in the end?” 

“Not great,” he sighs, “I kept waking up, losing my bearings when I opened my eyes, I’d dream about the army stuff and then I’d wake up and see army stuff and I’d panic until I saw you.” You move yourself in the bed so that you can wrap your free arm around his waist and pull him closer, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I’ll squeeze in with you in the bottom bunk for as long as you want me too,” you say, giving him a small smile, “as long as it helps with the nightmares.” 

“It does,” he smiles back, “I know it’s a bit cramped though.” 

“They’re gonna put you on military duty when we get out of here,” you say, looking up at him, “do you think you’ll be ok? I’m worried it’ll make your nightmares worse.” 

“I don’t think anything can make my nightmares worse now, cariño,” Frankie sighs, rubbing his hand over his face before his hand goes up to tug at his cap in his usual manner but grasping at thin air before he lowers his hand, remembering he no longer has it and you suddenly realize it’s been missing for a while. 

“When did you lose the cap, Frankie?” you ask, running your hand over his uncovered curls. “I forgot to ask.” 

“When those assholes attacked us, I woke up without it in the barn.” He shoves his hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp, “I feel weird without it, and the sun kept getting in my eyes yesterday.” 

“We’ll find you a new one, maybe we can trade for one somehow,” you say, looping your fingers through the soft curls at the nape of his neck and Frankie hums, leaning towards your hand as his eyes close. “They’ll have me in army fatigues soon enough,” he says, his eyes still closed, “won’t be able to wear one then anyway.” He scoffs, “Haven’t been in actual uniform in so long, in Delta Force we wore civilian clothes to blend with the locals. I’m gonna feel like a cadet again.” 

“Promise me something, Frankie,” you say, still running your fingers through his curls. 

“Anything,” he mumbles, half gone back to sleep with your ministrations along his scalp.

“I’m serious,” you stop moving your fingers and he opens his eyes, meeting your worried look. “If your PTSD gets worse, if you start spiraling because you’re back in the army, you’ve got to tell me, and you’ve got to leave, do something else in here. Or we leave this QZ.” You’ve got your hand around his neck, looking at him with your eyebrows knitted together and he leans forward, his forehead against yours. 

“It’s already bad, cariño,” he sighs, “ever since this whole shitshow started, getting back to you in the apartment, leaving the city, getting to…” he hesitates and you see his throat bob as he swallows, “ever since Lucía, I’ve already spiraled, the nightmares,” his hand finds your hand and he’s rubbing tight little circles into your skin, “I’m hardly sleeping, I get panic attacks when I wake up, and I know I’ve been distant with you, not talking to you, not touching you, not…” he hesitates again, his anxious brown eyes finding yours only inches away, looking at him without flinching, not pulling back. “Not having sex with you, not even trying,” he sighs, “and that shit I pulled when we left the assholes at the ranch…” He brings up his hand to cup your cheek, letting a deep sigh escape, “I’m such a fucking idiot, I know I need to be with you and I know you don’t want me to leave, but sometimes…” he lets the sentence hang between you, his thumb stroking your cheek, catching a tear that’s escaped from your lashes. 

“I know, Frankie,” you whisper as you feel his warm palm skate across your jawline. “I know you’re not yourself after all that’s happened. And I wanna help you but I don’t know, I don’t-” 

“You’re helping just by being here,” he interrupts, “you’re helping just by not giving up on me.” He closes the small gap between you and presses his lips softly against yours, gently taking your bottom lip in between his before he pulls away a fraction. “Please don’t give up on me, mi vida,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against yours again. 

“You know I won’t, Frankie,” you mumble against his lips, “I’m gonna marry you, and then you’ll be stuck with me forever.” You can feel his small smile against your mouth as the corners of his lips pull up.  “Is that a promise, prometida?” he whispers, and you nod, “You know it is, Frankie.”

Chapter 17