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absurdthirst · 5 months

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One Night in St. John's {Frankie Morales x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 15.3k

Warnings: Alcohol/drug use, infidelity, oral sex (female receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, regret, abusive relationships, emotional/physical abuse, isolation, baby trapping, domestic violence, threats of death, weapons, drugging, hostage situation, death by gun violence, PTS, shock, therapy, confessions, oral sex (male receiving)

Comments: Drunk and high, you and Frankie give into the desires you've kept hidden from one another. One night in St. John's, one brief moment in time in each other's arms. You go back to your lives, sure that it's causing Frankie to pull away from your team even more, but there's a more sinister and heartbreaking reason.

A/N: Domestic violence/abuse comes in all shapes, sizes and genders. If reading about an abusive relationship would be triggering, please do not read.

Co-written by @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Frankie Morales MasterList ||

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

Your nerves are shot, hands shaking, your entire body shaking as you sit under the hot water as the dirt and blood swirls down the drain. You’re alive, although you could have been like Tom, wrapped up in a blanket and carried out from the mountains where he had been killed. You had carried his body, cried and grieved, now alone with your thoughts and they aren’t exactly the happiest. Lonely and hurt, you try to ignore the baggie you had in your bag, now sitting on the table out in your room. Trying to resist snorting the fine white powder to manage the pain, to forget. Salty tears mix with the water as you cry in your first shower since you had tried to steal from Lorea and had ended up running for your lives.

Frankie sighs as he puts the phone down on the nightstand. He’d just spoken to Darcy who let him speak to Ava. The ten month old has no idea what he’s saying but he had to speak to his daughter. He had to speak to her after nearly fucking dying, after Tom died. He rubs his eyes and runs his fingers through his damp hair, feeling antsy and like a caged lion. He needs to get out of this damn room. He gets dressed and makes his way down to the hotel bar, ordering a whiskey as soon as he’s sitting down and he groans at the first sip he takes.

“This seat taken?” You ask him and he looks at you, “you want a drink?” He asks and you nod so he gestures for the bartender to come over. You order your drink and turn to look at Frankie. He’s so handsome, even with exhaustion seeping deep into his bones, he makes your heart flutter but he has a girlfriend, he has a daughter. When you get your drink, you hold it up towards Frankie, “to Redfly.” He nods, clinking his glass with yours. Tears sting in your eyes when you look in the mirror behind the bar to you and Frankie, the realization that you came so close to death still weighing heavy. “That was a shit show, huh?” You joke softly, trying to conceal your watery eyes.

“Yeah.” Frankie blows out a breath and sighs, shaking his head. He wants to cry but he doesn’t feel like it will come out of him. Too used to repressing his feelings until he explodes. He feels it, itching under his skin, clawing to get out. “You doing okay?” He asks gruffly, clearing his throat and motioning towards the bartender for another round.

You swallow down the lump in your throat and you shake your head. “I keep- all i can see when I close my eyes is Tom. Dead on that mountain. How it could’ve been all of us. Any of us. And Molly and the girls…they are going to be devastated. I feel so guilty. Like there was - we could’ve saved him.” You know that’s not possible, Tom got himself killed but you feel guilty for your captain getting killed on your watch. The bartender sets another whiskey down for Frankie and you turn to look at him, “I can’t - we nearly died.”

“We didn’t though.” Frankie insists, picking up his drink and nudging yours over in front of you. “Fuck I wish this was something stronger.” He grunts as he tilts his head back and throws back the shot. Feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slides down his throat. His life is in shambles, no one knows how bad it is, not even Benny and for a moment, he wishes it had been him on that mountain.

You pick up your drink and down it, needing to feel numb like he wants to. “I have…I have something stronger. In my room.” You confess, “it’s, uh, I picked it up when we were in the coke fields.” You confess, knowing you shouldn’t have grabbed the packet but it was right there and you didn’t know if you were going to live or die.

He had been tempted. Surrounded by all that cocaine, he had been sorely tempted to take some. To know you have some in your room makes his stomach twist and his craving get even stronger. “Fuck.” He stands up and reaches into his pocket for some cash. “What the fuck are we waiting for?” He asks you. “I want to fucking forget the last week and a half.”

You nod, standing up and you grab your room key, quickly making your way up to the third floor and you open your door, hearing him close it behind him and you grab the baggie, working fast to cut lines on the desk in the corner. Frankie rolls up one of the hundred dollar bills from the bag you grabbed from Lorea’s and you use your hotel room key. “Ladies first.” Frankie says, handing you the bill and you bend over, snorting the line and you shake your head at the rush you get immediately before you hand the bill to Frankie.

Anticipation curls in his stomach as he bends down. Blowing out a breath, he closes his mouth and snorts up the entire line quickly. Groaning and tossing his head back as the jolt to his system immediately slams into him and the euphoria washes over him. “Shit, shit.” He huffs, leaning down and doing another line in his other nostril before gasping and handing the bill back to you. “It’s fuckin’ pure.”

“Purest shit I’ve ever done. I, uh, I haven’t done this for years. Not since college.” You confess and bend over to do another line. The second hits you hard and you set the bill down as you wipe your nose, shifting to sit on the bed. “Shit. I feel…peaceful.” You sigh, your racing thoughts finally silent as you close your eyes, feeling the bed dip as Frankie sits down next to you.

“Only goddamn time I have peace.” Frankie hums, feeling the lovely floating sensation start to drift over him as his mind goes fuzzy and the smell of your shower gel seeps into his nostrils. His cock twitches and he thinks about how fucking beautiful you are. “Only time I get hard now too.” He blurts out, the intimacy in his relationship dead and buried, he had used to hide the fact that he couldn’t get it up for her anymore, able to fuck while high had been a good thing for him.

You open your eyes and frown when you look at him, “Darcy…she doesn’t - wow.” You finish lamely and clear your throat. “Sorry. That was-” He murmurs and you shake your head, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “It’s okay. Nothing leaves this room. It’s just the two of us. Whatever we say or do doesn’t leave here, okay?” You reassure him, wanting him to know he can trust you.

It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell you. To lay out everything that’s been happening and how miserable he is. Turning and looking into your concerned, beautiful eyes, he’s hypnotized by their color and depths. Not thinking about anything but you, he lunges forward and presses his lips to yours with a moan.

You respond, much to your shame, you respond and reach up to cup his cheeks. Your lips move against his and you pull back after a second. “Frank-” You murmur but he silences you with another kiss, not wanting to think about anything but you. You allow him to drag you down and you tangle your fingers in his hair as his tongue slides along your lips and your tongue meets his with a low groan.

He wants you, he’s always wanted you, but right now he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t touch you. His cock is already hard, throbbing as your tongue slides against his and he flips you onto your back and straddles you, pushing against your belly with his straining bulge. “Want you.” He manages as he pulls away to start biting and kissing along your jaw. “So fucking long. So beautiful.”

You can’t resist, fuelled by booze and coke, you can’t say no to the man you’ve been in love with for years. You couldn’t say anything when you served together and when you found out about Darcy and her being pregnant in the same sentence, you resigned yourself to being his friend. “Me too. Always wanted you. Fuck, Cat. I need you to - please. Fuck me.” You beg, reaching up to grab the back of his shirt, tugging on it and needing to feel his skin.

“Fuck, you’re so soft.” He marvels, stroking your sides and kissing your neck. “How are you so soft?” He’s imagined this thousands of times, sometimes when his hand is wrapped around his cock and sometimes when he was fucking Darcy. Luckily he had never moaned your name. Frankie kisses down your chest and circles your nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth like a hungry baby.

You gasp and tangle your fingers in his hair, “Frankie.” You whimper when he bites down and he sucks where he bites. You wrap your leg around him and grind into him, pushing his bulge into your covered pussy and you moan in response.

He rocks his hips, shamelessly rutting into the hot core between your thighs. It feels better than he could have imagined and he’s not even inside you yet. He suckles until your nipple is swollen, moving over to the other breast and he knows he wants to bury his face in your cunt. “Take- take your fucking shorts off.” He growls, tongue dipping into your belly button as he moves lower.

Your heart beats out of your chest, already dripping with anticipation and you follow his growled demand without hesitation. You lift your hips as much as you can so you can take your shorts off after unbuttoning them and Frankie is impatient, reaching down to drag them off of your legs along with your panties, pushing your thighs apart when you are bare beneath him.

“Fuck.” He groans, seeing your wet folds and reaching out to spread them wide to expose your clit. “I’m so fucking hungry.” He lunges forward to slide his tongue through your folds and around your clit, pressing his nose to your mound with the enthusiasm of a starving man.

"Fuck!" You yelp, surprised at the ferocious way he buries his face into your cunt and you swear you nearly cum then and there when you look down and see his eyes are already black, pupils blown wide from the coke, and hungry. You moan and tug on his hair, "fuck, Frank - shit." You pant, lifting your leg up onto his shoulder.

It just makes him push deeper, sliding his tongue down to push up inside you. Loving the way your soaked walls clench around his tongue. He wraps his arms around your other thigh and pushes it out, opening you up more to his mouth. He would swallow you whole if he could. Cock throbbing in his jeans, grinding into the bed beneath him and swearing he could stay right here all night feasting on you.

"Oh God!" You cry, your head pressing into the mattress and you can't believe how good he feels, how good his tongue feels. Better than you've ever imagined and you've imagined it a lot. For years, you've wanted Frankie and now that you finally got him, you are breathless. "Shit. So good, baby. God, you're so good." You pant, getting closer as his nose presses against your clit.

He loves praise, soaks it up and is desperate for more. He moans into your folds and curls his tongue up inside you. Your fingers in his hair are magical and he hates pulling away for a second but he wants to suck on your clit.

Your stomach twists as you get closer to cumming and his lips suck harder on your clit. "Fi-fingers. Need your fingers, baby." You plead and moan when his thick digits push inside of you. "Yesss." You hiss, squeezing your eyes shut and it doesn't take long for you to fall over the edge with a moan of his name.

As hard as he is, he wants to see you cum again. Needs to see it, to feel it. Your cum floods his mouth and it's like ambrosia. Making him moan as he laps it up and pumps his fingers into your grasping walls. Enjoying the squelch of your wetness around his fingers.

"Shit." You hiss as you are pushed into overstimulation but he doesn't stop. You moan his name again, a desperate plea for what, you aren't sure. You don't want him to stop but it's so intense. "Oh fuck." You moan, thighs starting to shake as he curls his fingers inside of you.

“Give me another.” Frankie demands, pulling away so he can swallow and then sucking your clit back into his mouth. It’s been so long since he’s wanted to pleasure someone he’s drunk on the sensation, greedy for more.

You gasp for air, every breath taken from you by his mouth and his fingers. "It's too much." You pant and Frankie growls, "another."

You can't deny him, pushing through the overstimulation and falling over the edge to another orgasm. "F-Fr-" You try to get his name out but all you can do is squeak.

Frankie groans, working his mouth even harder as he watches you. Your entire body arches up and he feels the spurt of precum soak his boxers. Finding it to be a gorgeous sight as you gasp and writhe for him.

You collapse against the bed, eyes still closed as you try to calm down after the best orgasms you've ever had. "I wanna see you." You tell him, shifting out from under him and kneeling on the bed. He follows your orders and lays down, working on unbuttoning his pants and you shove them down his legs after he kicks off his shoes. Throwing them to the floor, you focus back on Frankie and see the bulge in his boxers, the dark look in his eyes, and the way his chest heaves. You reach up to hook your fingers in his boxers, pulling them down, and you moan at the sight of his hard cock. "Fuck, you're thick." You murmur, spitting into your hand then you wrap your fingers around him, marveling at the feel of the silky hot skin.

“Shit.” He hisses, rocking his hips up into your grip and groaning your name. He’s imagined you touching him, never quite able to imagine it as good as this. “Fuck, are you- what do you want?” He demands breathlessly. “I need you baby.”

“I want to - I want to ride you. I- I have an IUD. Please Frank. I need you inside of me.” You beg and he nods, leaning down to grab your arms so he can drag you up his body. You shuffle to straddle him, his cock between your folds as you grind down on him and the drugs combined with the high you get from Frankie has you feeling on top of the world.

“So goddamn beautiful.” Frankie groans, tearing up to press his lips to your shoulder. He should be desperate to get inside you, but he loves how you are rolling your hips over his cock. Holding tight to your back as he pulls you down and kisses along your shoulder.

You moan, turning your head so you can press your lips to his, not wanting to waste a second of this night together. He isn’t yours. Can never be yours. This is all you’ll have. You reach between you, gripping his cock and you lift up to position him at your entrance, slowly sinking down onto him and you whimper against his chin at the stretch.

“Holy fuck.” He pants, cock twitching and it’s all he can do to keep from rocking up into you. Trying to give you time to adjust. The Coke and the feeling of you are nearly making him black out from pleasure. “So good baby, fuck you are so tight and sweet.”

You exhale shakily, shifting to brace your hands on his chest as you take all of him. Your heart is pounding in your chest from the coke and the fact that it’s Frankie beneath you. “Feel so good, Frankie.” You whimper, caressing his chest as you give yourself a second before you start to move on top of him.

“So good, baby.” He groans. “I can’t believe that it feels so good. Move baby.” He begs you, fingers digging into your hips as he braces his feet in the bed.

You moan, nodding as you start to rock on top of him, lifting up until you can sink back down onto his cock. His thighs lift you so you can move forward and you grind onto his cock. “Fuck.” You pant, jaw dropping at the angle.

“That good, baby?” Frankie grunts. “Your little cunt is squeezing me.” His hands squeeze your hips, not slapping, he would never slap you. He groans when his words affect you and he squeezes your hips again. “You like that, baby girl? You like me telling you how tight your pussy is on my cock?”

You nod, speechless from the dirty talk. His rough voice sends shivers down your spine, and you move a little faster on top of him. "Shit. Yes. I do. I love it. I wanna - wanna hear more, Francisco." You demand softly, leaning down to kiss along his jaw.

“Fuck.” When Frankie is high, he’s more talkative, the thoughts inside his head just come pouring out of him easier than he would sober. “Always wanted to fuck you. Imagined it, dreamed of it, jerked off to the thought of it.” He admits with a dirty grin. His hand slides up to your breast and he squeezes it, rolling your nipple between his fingers. “So many nights. The entire time we served together, I wanted you.”

“Oh God.” Your stomach clenches at his dirty confession and you pant against his collarbone, clenching around him. “Me too. Shit, so many nights spent wishing you were in my bed. You were inside of me. Always knew it would be amazing. And it is.” You reveal, rocking back onto him, “it’s so good.”

“So good.” He groans in agreement. “You- I -“ he shakes his head. “Fuck me.” He begs, knowing that he can’t tell you that. Not with the way his life is. He can’t drag you into his mess, not when he doesn’t know how he’s getting out of it himself. Or if he’s getting out of it.

You reach for his hands, gripping them as you start to move faster on his cock. “Fuck baby. Oh God.” You pant, tits bouncing as you work yourself towards your orgasm as your knees dig into the mattress.

“That’s it baby, ride my cock.” Frankie groans. “Always- fuck, you’re better than my fantasy.” He praises, watching you and completely enthralled with the sight.

The awed look he gives you sends you over the edge, his eyes glassy and mouth open as he looks at you like you’re a goddess. It makes you cum and you clamp down on his cock with a strangled choke of his name, falling forward until your forehead is pressed against his. Body shaking above him and he thrusts up into you to help you prolong your high.

It’s the best sex he’s ever had, groaning your name as he watches you cum. It’s a vision that he would love to have burned in his brain. Rocking his hips up frantically as he chases his own end.

You try to grind back onto him, wanting him to cum inside of you. “Cum for me, Francisco. I want to feel you.” You beg, kissing along his neck, wanting to leave your mark but knowing you can’t.

“Fuck, fuck.” Frankie groans, unable to resist giving you what you want. Especially since it’s what he wants too. He thrusts up into you wildly, only making it another half dozen thrusts before he’s filling you, painting your walls with hot spurts of his cum.

You hum with satisfaction, shifting to press your lips to his. His tongue is harsh against yours as his hips slowly thrust into you as he rides his orgasm and you run your fingers through his hair as he fills you. After he stops, he rolls you onto your side and curls around you. You smile into his chest, closing your eyes as the high of the drugs and the sex courses through you. There’s so much you want to say but you can’t. You just have tonight. Tomorrow, you deposit the money and Frankie goes home to his family.

Frankie hums, grateful when you don’t want to talk. All he wants to do is hold you. Wrapping his arms around you and pulling you down on his chest as he closes his eyes. “Wanna sleep here.” He mumbles quietly.

You hum back, placing your palm on his chest to feel his heartbeat, reassured that he’s safe and alive. You kiss his Adam’s apple, “sleep, sweetheart. Tomorrow is gonna be messy.” You murmur, closing your eyes as exhaustion overwhelms you along with the crash from your high.

****

When Frankie wakes up, the light is starting to filter through the curtains and he’s sober. Realizing that he hadn’t been dreaming is both the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him. He can’t believe that he got to touch you, although he feels bad because he cheated. He made you a cheater and that was worse. He shifts slowly, not wanting to wake you up until he is out of the bed. Grabbing his clothes and fleeing quietly.

When you wake up, the sheets beside you are cold and you squint, feeling that headache you get after drinking too much but now it’s a combination of booze and coke. You sit up and bite your lip after you shake off the haze of waking up. He left. You shouldn’t be upset about that. He has a family. Shit, you - he cheated and you cheated with him. Shame burns inside of you. He has a baby with Darcy, he - he has a partner and you cheated with him. You feel dirty, shifting out of bed and you get into the shower, desperate to wash off his touch, hating that you can still feel his lips on your skin. The thing you wanted forever makes you sick with disgust at yourself. You stay under the water until it goes cold and reluctantly dress to meet the boys to deposit the money that will make you all for the rest of your life’s.

****

You watch Benny walk out of the room after giving his share to Redfly’s family and you know you have to do the same. Signing your name before you get up to follow the boys, your eyes meeting Frankie’s for a moment and he looks away. Your heart shatters but you’re reminded that you can’t tell anyone about last night.

Frankie frowns as he stares at the contract in front of him. It’s a lot of money. Money that he could use to leave Darcy. Get his pilot’s license back and leave the horrible relationship he’s in. Get custody of the baby, hopefully. Or at least not get fucked with visitation. It’s hard to not think about this, even though he knows that he should give the money to Redfly’s family. The man died. His kids deserve that money. Still he stares at the contract for far longer than he should before he crumples up the paper and signs the document to give the money away. Sadness and despair overwhelming him, even as he slaps Pope on the shoulder and ambles out of the room like the weight of the world isn’t on his shoulders.

You watch Frankie as you stand in the middle of the street, passers-by pushing past but you stare at Frankie, knowing this is it. He will go back to Darcy and who knows when you’ll talk to him next. He keeps to himself nowadays and even Santi has trouble trying to get hold of him. “You’ll need these.” Santi says as he hands everyone back their passports. “I guess I’ll see you all next at the funeral?” Will says and you nod, knowing Frankie can’t avoid that. “See you soon.” Will steps forward to hug you, kissing your cheek and Benny then Santi does the same. Next is Frankie and you struggle to maintain your composure as you hug him tight.

Frankie tries to hug you as quickly as possible but he can’t help but linger for just a moment. Clinging to you for a second as the dreams of the future, a future with you, slip away. “Well, I gotta get home.” He tells the group, not looking any of you in the eye. He nods and turns around to disappear into the crowd.

****

It’s hard seeing Frankie again, all of you in dress uniform and you see Darcy holding Ava as she sits in a pew behind Molly and the girls. It’s hard to be around Frankie because he’s not even texted you since you’ve been back. Not that you expected anything of him when you got home but a check in would’ve been nice. You’ve texted him, asking him how he’s doing and you’ve been left on read. Your heart aches for Frankie but today, it grieves for Tom, your leader, and you focus on him instead of the man you yearn for.

Frankie doesn’t even dare look at all of you, knowing how pissed Darcy is that he didn’t come home with the money he had promised her when he had left. He knows she blames all of you for the fuck up in South America and why she cannot have a life of luxury. Instead, he focuses on the funeral, his part in the honor guard so he can finish up and leave. Darcy doesn’t want to stay past the burial.

When the service is over, everyone is heading to Molly’s house for the wake and you are confused when you arrive there after stopping for gas and don’t see Frankie or Darcy. “Where did Frankie go?” You ask Santi who sighs.

“Darcy wanted to take Ava home and Frankie had to go too.” He explains and you frown, knowing it’s not like Frankie to leave early, especially when today is about Tom.

****

“I still can’t believe you gave the money away.” Darcy shakes her head after putting Ava down for her nap. “You’re a fucking spineless bastard.” Darcy hisses at Frankie who stands there with his arms crossed, shoulders hunched. “You should’ve been selfish. For Ava. For me. I already bought a Louis Vuitton purse for my birthday because you promised you’d get me something to make up for being such a failure and getting suspended at work. I gotta take it back. You know how embarrassing that’s gonna be for me, baby?”

“I’m sorry, baby.” The apology is automatic, his heart starting to race as his pulse jumps up. “I’ll- I’ll pick up more hours.” He’s got part time work that’s been able to sustain them with his retirement and disability. “You don’t have to take it back, baby. You keep it.”

Darcy shakes her head, “no. I’ll take it back. I don’t need you telling me that we need to be budgeting the groceries. Honestly, you’re pathetic. Leaving your family for two weeks and you didn’t bring back anything to show for it.” Darcy scoffs and Frankie frowns, “I got seventeen grand.” Darcy snorts, “yeah? And where’s that gone? On trying to fight your suspension. When we met, I thought you were capable of looking after me. I thought you were gonna take care of me and our daughter but you’re a failure. How are you gonna make this up to me?”

Frankie swallows, hating how she continuously pokes and pushes him, grinding him into the dirt with her venom. “However you want me too, baby.” He placates, moving towards her automatically to wrap his arms around her. If she pushes him away, he knows he needs to just be quiet and let her vent her disappointment. But she would also accuse him of not caring if he didn’t make a move to comfort her, so he was picking one and seeing if it was the right move today.

Darcy lets him wrap his arms around her and she slides her hands down his back and under his uniform to pinch his side, making Frankie wince. “I don’t need your fucking comfort, Frank. I need you to do your job to provide for this family.” She hisses and pushes him away, “my parents told me to not have the baby. Didn’t think you were good enough for me and you know what? They were right.” She shakes her head and turns towards the counter to make herself a cup of coffee.

Frankie sighs, although he makes sure that she doesn’t hear it. That would cause another fight. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs. “I’ll make it up to you.” He promises. “I’ll get my license back and then we won’t have to worry about anything.”

Darcy snorts again, “you better otherwise me and Ava will be gone. I’ll move in with my parents.” She threatens and pours her coffee. After a few moments, she says your name, “did you see her? She looks like she’s put on weight. I don’t think anyone was fooled that her uniform still fits properly. It looked like she was about to burst out of it. No wonder she doesn’t have a boyfriend. No one's gonna wanna date the Pillsbury dough boy.”

Frankie frowns, looking at her back and wondering if she’s serious. His friend and teammate died and she’s commenting about your looks? You don’t look any different than the day you left the Army. “Her uniform was fine.” He tells her. “Nothing was ill fitting, she could pass inspection today.” He knows you haven’t gained any weight, but he can’t say that. The image of you riding him is a secret memory, one that he will think of often.

Darcy turns, staring at her partner, “really? She could pass inspection?” She mocks his words, “all the others were thinking it. She’s a fatso, Frank. And she shouldn’t have gone with you all to South America. Trying to run with the boys. I bet that’s why Tom got killed, because you were all running around trying to protect her. She’s useless. She is a military groupie gone too far and she thinks she’s capable but she put you all in danger.” Darcy gives her opinion without any remorse, speaking her mind as she always does and she turns back to pour creamer in her coffee.

“She didn’t do that.” Frankie snorts, shaking his head. “You need to stop fucking talking about her like that. She’s got just as many medals for courage and valor as Ben, she’s not a military groupie, she’s a veteran and deserves respect.” He snaps, pissed off that she constantly belittles your accomplishments.

Darcy moves so fast he doesn’t even register that she’s slapped him until he sees her hand lowering from his face. The sting comes a few seconds later and he realizes he went too far in his defense of you. “Don’t you ever - ever - defend that fucking bitch in my house, okay? She has always pined after you and you disrespect me by giving her compliments? No, Frank. No. You fucking apologize right now to me.” She demands, crossing her arms.

His eyes are wide, unable to believe that she just hit him. She’s shoved him, slapped at his chest but she’s never hit him in the face. “No.” He shakes his head. “I’m not apologizing for her being a veteran.” He tells her, his stomach churning and twisting in anxious nausea. Fearful of what she might do again, but still not ready to talk bad about you. You’ve never done anything wrong to her, until this trip, but Darcy doesn’t know that.

Darcy doesn’t hesitate, turning back to her coffee and she grabs the spoon she has in the mug, turning back to Frankie and pressing the spoon to his neck. He winces but she grabs the back of his neck to keep it pressed to his skin. “Apologize. To. Me.” She demands, pressing the spoon harder into his neck.

Frankie hisses, the hot spoon burning his skin but he almost doesn’t apologize. Deciding that he’s had enough of her shit until he hears Ava start to cry, obviously not wanting to go down for her nap. With the mood she’s in, Darcy would take it out on his daughter and he can’t have that. “I’m sorry.” He chokes out. “I’m sorry, baby, I- I don’t know what I was thinking.” He tells her breathlessly. “The funeral, losing Tom, it’s fucking with me. I’m not thinking straight.”

Darcy pulls the spoon away from his neck, setting it down and reaching up to cup his cheek. "It's okay, baby. I know it's been stressful. For me, too. I love you. You know that, right?" She coos, leaning in to kiss the burn she left on his skin.

Frankie shudders but he makes himself wrap his arms around her again and snuggle into her. “I know. You’re the only one who could put up with me.” It’s a statement that she’s said over and over again and he is starting to believe it.

“That’s damn right.” She chuckles, “I better go check on Ava.” Darcy says, leaning back with a smile at her partner and she walks out of the kitchen to check on the crying baby. Frankie exhales shakily, leaning against the kitchen counter. He has faced combat in the most dangerous areas in the world, nearly died from bullets flying past him, and flown a helicopter under high stress but Darcy seems to crumble his strength. Her power over him stems from keeping Ava safe and his morality. He would never hit a woman so he takes what she does to him. He doesn’t want to fight. He’s so tired of fighting.

****

It’s been weeks since you heard from Frankie and the guilt is eroding your insides. It’s haunting you and you don’t know how to handle it. You’ve never been a cheater and not hearing from Frankie has you worried that you’ve ruined your friendship. You decide to send him a text, saying hi and asking how he is.

Frankie’s phone is constantly being checked by Darcy since his outburst. Nearly every night and he has even stopped talking to Ben as much as he used to. Not wanting to rehash every comment he made to his buddy or what his mentality was. When he gets the text from you, he panics and nearly deletes it, but then it would cause a complete shitstorm. Instead he doesn’t even open his messages and waits for Darcy to look through it.

“Why is she texting you?” Darcy asks, pausing the tv and grabbing Frankie’s phone. “She is asking how you are. Why would she ask that? Have you been talking to her behind my back? Have you - explain this, Frank. Now.” She says, shoving the phone towards him.

“What? No! No, I haven’t been talking to her!” Frankie defends. “I- she’s probably checking in with everyone. Tom died, Darc. It - it’s heavy shit. We all blame ourselves.” He quickly rationalizes. “I’m not talking to her, you told me not to and I’m - baby, I’m not going to jeopardize my relationship with you.” He tells her, reaching out to rub her arm.

Darcy shrugs off his touch, “don’t fucking lie to me!” She shouts, despite Ava being asleep. “She’s a whore. Trying to take you away from me. I see the way she looks at you. She wants to tear our family apart and you are letting her do it. You never touch me. We don’t have sex. It’s her, isn’t it?” Darcy cries, starting to sob.

“No, no baby.” Frankie shakes his head and wonders if she suspects something. Guilt and worry curling in his stomach. “No, you told me that I was treating you like my sex toy, I - I didn’t want you to think that’s all I wanted from you.” It was ironic when he used to want sex that she would complain, now he doesn’t even ask and she complains. “Only you, baby.”

Darcy sniffs, wiping her eyes, “yeah?” She asks and Frankie nods. “Good. I Don’t want you talking to her.” She narrows her watery eyes and shifts to sit beside him once more. She grips his chin and leans in to press her lips to his. “You’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.” He can’t. She reminds him everyday and for the hundredth time since he came back, he wishes he had been the one killed. If it weren’t for Ava, he would have left her, long ago. But he knows she will never let him see his daughter again. “I won’t talk to her.” He promises quietly, mourning the loss of all of his friends since he has been with her. He will end up completely alone.

“Good.” She kisses him again, letting go of his chin and she settles in to watch the tv again. “You’re so good to me, baby.” She coos, sliding her hand down his chest to play with the buttons of his shirt, “makes me wet when you do what I want.”

Shit. He knows she wants sex now, especially since she’s brought it up.

“Yeah?” Frankie grunts, capturing her hand and sliding it down and onto his thigh. “Let me go pee, baby.” He asks her. “That way we don’t have to worry about anything when I take you to bed.”

Darcy nods, biting her lip as she smirks and watches him go into the bathroom. Frankie locks the door behind him and braces his hands on the sink, looking into the mirror. He doesn’t want to have sex with her but he has no choice. If he doesn’t, she will hurt him again, either emotionally or physically and his biggest fear is her hurting Ava. He will take every slap and pinch she gives him if his daughter is safe.

He finds the baggie he has hidden under the towels and in the linen closet. Working fast, he puts some onto the back of his hand and snorts it, wiping his nose. It’s enough to numb him to do what he needs to do, his thoughts drifting to you and how you looked riding him. He sniffs and hides the baggie again, splashing water on his face before he heads into the bedroom to do what he needs to do.

****

“Is Frankie coming?” You ask Santi who glances at his watch.

“He didn’t respond.” He says and you frown. No one has heard from or seen Frankie for weeks since you returned from South America and you don’t want to see him. He’s ignored you since you parted ways and you’re hurt. You thought your friendship would survive but he refuses to even text you back.

Frankie had barely been able to convince Darcy that if he didn’t show up to Benny’s fight that it would look strange. He had promised her he would just go to the fight, immediately coming home and he would have one beer. Nothing more. And he wouldn’t talk to you. Frankie shakes his arms and then wipes his hands on his jeans as he walks in, nervous about seeing everyone. The bruises on his sides twinge, reminding him of the promise he had made to behave.

Your eyes widen when you see Frankie sit down, shocked that he made it when Pope didn't think he would. His eyes meet yours after he greets everyone with a nod and you offer him a small smile that he returns until it drops, his eyes widening slightly before he turns his head away from you. Your heart twists with that and you wonder why he's actively avoiding you. He clearly regrets that night and now, so do you. Frankie's phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket to see a text from Darcy. ‘Remember, one drink baby. Don't talk to her. Don't linger. I want you home as soon as it ends otherwise I won't be happy. Love you.’

Frankie swallows harshly and stows his phone, leaning over to Pope. “Gotta leave after the fight.” He yells over the crowd. “Baby’s not feeling good.” He lies, knowing no one would blame him for that. The fact that you lean in and he’s close to touching you makes him jerk back and sit straight, sure that Darcy would catch your perfume if he touched you, even innocently.

Darcy texts Frankie several more times throughout the fight, even asking him to take a photo of it to prove where he is. It's strange because she never accused him of cheating until he came back from South America. Maybe something changed, maybe he changed. He doesn't know but he concentrates on Benny and cheers him when he wins. "I gotta go. Tell Benny congrats." Frankie says as he slaps Santi on the shoulder and he looks at you with those beautiful brown eyes. "See you later." He offers you a small smile then rushes off before the crowds try to leave and you frown, turning back to Pope.

"Something isn't right with him." You assess and Santi nods, squeezing your shoulder until you focus on Benny as he approaches with blood smeared on his face from a broken nose but a wide grin from his win.

“Where’s Fish going?” He had seen his friend in the crowd as he was in the ring. He frowns slightly when he realizes that Frankie isn’t just going to the beer stand for another brew.

“He had to go, the baby isn’t feeling good.” Pope tells him with a frown. “He told me to tell you congrats on your win.”

Benny huffs and takes the towel that Will tosses him to wipe his face. “Something’s wrong with him. He’s not answering my texts, like- at all.”

“Have you spoken to him?” Will asks you, knowing you and Frankie have always been especially close.

You shake your head, “I’ve texted him but I get left on read. I don’t know what’s going on. I- I am worried about him.” You confess and the boys nod.

****

“What took you so long?” Darcy asks as she stands in the hallway.

Frankie barely gets a chance to shrug off his jacket before she’s on him. “I hit all red lights, baby.” He explains and Darcy shakes her head.

“It was her. Wasn’t it?” She accuses, “you fuck her in the bathroom? Mind you, you wouldn’t be that late coming home. You’ve never had the stamina, have you?” She laughs cruelly.

Frankie’s shoulders slump but he doesn’t rise to the bait, knowing it would just start a vicious fight. “No babe, I left as soon as the fight was over. I just got caught up at the lights.” He knows that he’s going to get slapped again. Since the other day, she’s slapped him on the cheek whenever she gets mad. Making him feel even more ashamed every time he thinks of hitting her back. Becoming the monster he’s always been afraid that he is.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” She surges forward to slap him and grips his chin, leaning in. “You even smell like cheap perfume. I can’t believe you.” She lowers her hand, “I give you everything. Sacrifice my body to give you a child. Give you a home to return to and you want to throw it all away for some whore who could never love you like I can.”

“I swear to you, Darcy.” Frankie whines, nearly flinching when she moves again. “I didn’t do anything, I sat by Pope. Maybe he’s seeing a new girl, I don’t know. I came straight home.”

Darcy stares at him, her eyes narrowed. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” She says and spins on her heels, making her way back into the bedroom and she shuts the door, effectively locking him out of his room. Frankie looks down at his hands, shaking from both anxiety and anger. He hates Darcy but he can’t leave, his daughter isn’t safe around her. The other day Frankie found Ava gripping a knife and Darcy laughed and said it was nothing, she wants her to learn how to use utensils to be a proper lady. He strips down to his boxers and lays on the sofa, wishing he could escape this situation and keep his daughter safe but no one would believe him.

****

It’s been a few days since Benny’s fight and the guilt of sleeping with Frankie is becoming too much. Darcy posted some photos of Ava and Frankie on her Facebook page with them out for brunch - her new designer bag on display - and you felt the heavy pit of guilt in your belly. You have to tell her and you’ll tell her it’s all your fault. Frankie will be at work so you make your way over to his house, ringing the doorbell and shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other as you wait for Darcy to answer the door.

Darcy huffs, pushing herself off the couch with an annoyed grunt. “Hold on!” She grumbles as she walks over to the front door and opens it. Annoyed and immediately glaring when she sees you at the door. “What the fuck do you want?” She hisses. “Frankie doesn’t want to talk to your pathetic ass, so do us both a favor and fucking leave him alone, okay?”

Your eyes widen and you know she has never liked you but her attitude takes you back. “I, uh, I know you don’t want to talk to me but I need to tell you something. Please. I, uh, I need to get it off of my chest.” You tell her and she crosses her arms, scoffing but allowing you to continue. “I slept with Frankie. In St Johns. We, uh, we were high and had a few drinks so we weren’t thinking straight and I’m so sorry Darcy. I wanted to tell you because you deserve to know and I can’t keep this secret any longer. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat.” You admit and she chuckles, “every cloud.” Her comment makes you frown and you are confused, “you aren’t mad?”

Darcy snorts and shakes her head, “I knew that Frankie fucked you.” She lies with a nasty smirk on her face. “A pity fuck, that’s what he called it when he told me about it.” She shrugs slightly. “You know men, if a whore is gonna throw it at them, they’ll take it. Thank God you didn’t give him something, but he much prefers my pussy over yours. Said he can’t even look at you now, so disgusted with the thought of you naked.” She chuckles evilly again. “Might want to lose a few pounds.”

You feel your eyes sting and your stomach twist. Hearing what Frankie said about you makes you feel sick. Darcy could be making it up but why would she lie? She knows about what happened.

“He said you were the worst sex he’s ever had. It was the adrenaline from surviving, he told me. He hasn’t talked to you because he didn’t want to embarrass you. You need to go. He’s my boyfriend. The father of my child. He’s mine. He belongs to me.” She says and you swallow down the lump in your throat, uneasy with her words but she’s not wrong.

“Yeah. Uh, I- I’ll go. I wanted to tell you because I thought you deserved to know and, um, yeah. Bye.” You choke and she waves at you as you make your way down the driveway to your car. Pulling away from the curb, tears streaming down your cheeks and you curse that night, you curse Frankie Morales. Your heart breaks and you need to take some time to get over that asshole. He’s with Darcy and he loves her.

****

“Baby, I’m home.” Frankie calls out and comes in to find Darcy sitting on the sofa, “come here baby.” She coos and he sets his stuff down before sitting on the sofa next to her. She leans in to kiss him and Frankie nearly flinches. “I missed you today.” She coos, caressing his cheek.

“I missed you too.” He lies, “where’s Ava?” He asks and Darcy explains that she is at her parents’ house.

“I wanted a romantic night in with you.” She says and Frankie feels repulsed but what can he do? “So…” Darcy trails off and grips his chin, “when were you gonna tell me you fucked the whore in St John’s?” She asks him, her eyes hardening.

“What?” Frankie shakes his head, immediately denying it. She’s been accusing him of cheating since he got back from South America. “Baby, why do you keep saying that?” He demands, making her squeeze his cheeks even harder. “The whore told me herself, Frank.” She spits, the spittle flying into his face and making him cringe. His heart sinks but Darcy keeps talking. “Bitch came to my house, wanted to ‘confess’ because she felt so guilty. She should, spreading her legs for you when she knows you have me, have Ava.” Frankie starts to shake, knowing that Darcy will punish him, badly, for you showing up and telling her what happened.

“You lied to me, Frank. Over and over. I’ve done so much for you. Sacrificed so much for you and this is how you repay me? By fucking the woman you’ve been in love with for years?” She hisses and Frankie shakes his head. “No use denying it. I know you love her. I’ve seen the way you look at her. You’ve never looked at me like that. I knew you would leave me for her so I decided to take action. Poked holes in the condoms we used until I got pregnant. Wanted to make sure you were mine.”

Frankie gasps, nearly choking on his own breath at the knowledge that she had baby trapped him. “You-“ He growls, his head snapping to the side when she slaps him.

“Don’t you fucking say a word, you cheating bastard!” She screams, her voice breaking because of how high it gets. “You humiliated me! All your bastard friends know, laughing at how you banged your whore.” This time, her fist is closed when she hits him, punching him in the jaw and Frankie grabs her hand.

“Stop fucking hitting me!” He shouts.

She screams, wrenching her hand away and she stands up. “That’s it. I don’t know if this shit will happen again. It can’t happen again. I’m gonna invite her over here. Gimme your phone.” She orders and he shakes his head. She sees his phone on the kitchen counter, rushing over to pick it up and Frankie tries to follow her but she’s quick to grab a knife from the counter, aiming it at him and he knows he could take her down but not without hurting her.

“Darcy!” He barks, jumping out of the way of the knife and back several steps. “Are you fucking crazy?” He asks, watching the knife carefully as she spins around again and looks like she wants to murder him. “Put the knife down.”

She shakes her head and grabs his phone, texting with one hand to bring up your name and text an invite over to the house, she hits send and tosses the phone across the counter. "She'll come. I know she will. Fucking pathetic bitch can't leave you alone." She scoffs, waving the knife again. "And you're gonna let me talk to her." She laughs manically, setting the knife down and opening the drawer. Before she had Ava, Darcy was a nurse so it wasn't hard for her to procure what she needed. She grabs the syringe as Frankie approaches to try and get the knife away from her and she is quick to stick the needle in him, pressing down on the needle to push the sedative into Frankie's bloodstream. She wants him to watch you suffer but she knows he won't allow it so she needs him to be restrained.

****

Being drugged is nothing like getting high. Frankie groans, head pounding and his mouth feels dry. Trying to move his arms, he can’t and he tries harder, feeling the resistance that forces his eyes open.

“You’re awake. Good. She’s on her way.” Darcy reveals and Frankie shakes his head, trying to speak but he’s still lethargic. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna take care of this. You’ll never truly love me until she’s out of the way. I’m gonna do what needs to be done.” She promises and picks up the gun she had taken from Frankie’s gun safe. She knows the password is Ava’s birthday so she was able to get into it.

“D-Dar-“ Frankie’s tongue is heavy and his mind is so jumbled from the drugs she had pumped into his system. He doesn’t want this, horrified that you might be killed because of his mistakes. He shakes his head again, trying desperately to think of a way out of this. His hands are bound, he’s zip tied to a kitchen chair. “D-don’t.” He croaks out.

You frown when you receive the text. Confused about Frankie’s invite to his house and the wording isn’t like the man you’ve known for years. You know something is wrong and you want to find out. Especially since Darcy had told you what Frankie had said. You get into your car and make your way over to Frankie’s house. Parking down the street, you sneak around the house and your eyes widen when you look into the house and see Frankie tied to a chair, and Darcy walking around with a gun in her hand. “Shit.” You curse, knowing you have to protect him and yourself and especially Ava. You step back from the house and call the police, explaining the situation, and after you hang up, you exhale shakily, anxious to keep Frankie safe.

“Darcy, think of Ava.” Frankie begs, the drugs wearing off and he is panicked. “You won’t get away with it. You’ll be in jail.” While he would love to be away from her, he is trying to keep her from killing you. “We’ll move.” He promises. “Sell the house and move across the country. Away from everything and start fresh.”

Darcy scoffs, "I will get away with it because you're going to help me deal with her after. Even if we moved across the world, she'd still be in your fucking mind. You won't forget about her. You'll still be tempted and I won't allow it. I can't. You're mine. You belong to me." She growls, fingers adjusting around the gun.

Outside, the police arrive quietly, pulling up in their SUVs and you meet them to explain what's going on. "I think she's going to kill him. I think she's gonna try to kill me." You explain and the police officers nod, speaking into their radios.

Inside, Frankie is still trying to convince Darcy. “Baby, no. It was a mistake.” He lies, knowing that his time with you was the best he’s ever had. “I had done some Coke, just to- just to forget the image of Tom’s brains splattered on the fucking rocks.” He tells her. “I didn’t realize what I was doing and then I left, I didn’t talk to her. I haven’t had anything to do with her.”

Darcy shakes her head and aims the gun at him, her anger getting the best of her, “you’re a fucking liar. I know you love her. I know you love her more than me and if she was gone, you could love me like that. I want you to love me like that. Don’t lie to me. I know you want her. Have always wanted her.” Darcy shouts, just as the front door flings off of its hinges and the officers yell at Darcy to drop the weapon and get down on the ground.

Frankie shouts, begging her to put the gun down. Knowing they will kill her if she so much as twitches wrong. Not wanting Ava to deal with the fact that her mother was killed when she’s older. Darcy screams, incoherently and spins around on Frankie. “You bastard! You called them!” Despite the fact that there was no way he could have called the police. He had been tied up.

“Darcy, no!” The shots echo in the house, deafening him and he squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the pain to start where she shot him.

The bullet flew into the kitchen cabinet behind him and the other shots were the police taking down Darcy. Yelling fills the house as the officers rush forward, kicking the gun out of Darcy’s hand and checking her pulse. “We need an EMT. Now.” He says and speaks into his walkie.

“Is she dead?” Frankie gasps as the officer comes towards him, pats him down before he lets him go.

“Yes sir. She was a threat and she had a weapon.” He says and Frankie exhales shakily.

“Frankie! Frankie!” You shout, pushing into the house despite the officers telling you to stay put. You run over to Frankie, cupping his cheeks, “are you okay?”

“I- no,” Frankie pants, staring at Darcy’s crumpled body and closes his eyes. “She was gonna- she was gonna kill you.” He manages before he lowers his head and tries to keep from sobbing, relieved that you are here and safe.

Your eyes widen, “kill me? Because we - oh God.” You choke, putting it all together when she had Frankie tied up and the gun in her hand. “Shit. She wanted to kill me.” You whisper and the police officers come over to escort you and Frankie outside and they take Frankie aside to take his statement but he wants you to stay with him. Reluctant to have you out of his sight, you stand beside him as he starts to give his statement.

Frankie starts to tell them everything. The abuse, the escalating violence. He pulls up his shirt to expose the bruises. How erratic Darcy had been acting, although he doesn’t mention the trip to South America, just that things had gotten worse since he had come back from out of town. He hates it, feeling humiliated as the police look at him first with disbelief and then pity as he continues to tell them about being abused by his girlfriend. He can’t look at you right now, afraid you would be disgusted with him for not manning up like Darcy always told him to do.

You feel sick. Hearing what Darcy did to Frankie has you wanting to scream and cry and make the world burn. You want to go and get a gun and kill Darcy again, just for the satisfaction of seeing her suffer. Tears sting in your eyes and the officer takes his statement and tells Frankie he can’t stay in the house so you wipe your cheeks and say that Frankie can stay with you. You turn to look at him, hands reaching out but pulling back in case he doesn’t want to be touched. “Frankie. I- I’m so sorry. I- I should’ve known. I should’ve helped you. I - shit. You - the ways she’s hurt you.” You choke, wishing you could go back in time and keep him safe from Darcy.

“No.” Frankie shakes his head. “She- she would have hurt Ava.” He tells you breathlessly, trying to keep his emotions bottled up. “They- they never would have given me custody. I would- I had to protect her. If she was hitting me, she wasn’t hitting our little girl.”

You can tell Frankie is on the edge and you want him to be safe before the emotions hit him finally. “Come on, let’s go back to my place. Where’s Ava?” You ask with wide eyes, worried that the little girl is in the house still.

“She’s at Darcy’s parents house. They - oh God. I gotta tell them - Darcy is dead.” He says with a whisper and he hates the fact that he’s happy about that for himself but not for Ava. “She’s safe for tonight. You’re in no state to be around her. Come to mine and you need to sleep.” You say, grabbing your keys from your pocket and guiding him up the street while the police handle his house.

“I don’t- I tried.” Frankie rambles as you steer him towards your car and open the door for him. “I stopped talking to everyone, stopped doing anything that would set her off.” He doesn’t understand why she hated him so much. Was he just that horrible? “Nothing- I failed at everything. I was- wasn’t good enough.”

“Frankie.” You shake your head as he gets into the car, “this isn’t your fault. Darcy was an abuser. You aren’t to blame for how she treated you. You are a good man. She - she was wrong. She abused you.” You whisper, a tear escaping your eye as you look at his distraught face.

“Poor Ava.” He bites his lip and closes his eyes tight, trying not to cry. “She- she’s gonna grow up with me and I’m gonna fuck her up. I - she always told me I was useless.”

You kneel down beside the car, “can I touch you?” You ask, wanting to hold his hand and he nods. “Francisco. You are the best father. You’re a good man. You’re not going to fuck Ava up. Darcy would have. She would’ve manipulated her like she did you. You are going to get through this. It’s gonna take a while but you’ll be strong for Ava. You can do this. I promise you.” You squeeze his hand, hating how broken he looks.

“Are you sure?” Frankie asks quietly, clinging to your hand. “I- I have to admit something.” He tells you. “I had been thinking that I should have been the one to die on that mountain. That way it would be over for me.” He sees the horror on your face. “But you- that night- it’s how I’ve been keeping sane lately. Remembering you, that night.”

You want to sob then and there, hearing that Frankie wanted to die because of Darcy. It makes you even angrier but you control yourself and place your hand over his holding yours. “Darcy has hurt you and you need to heal from that. Ava loves you. The boys love you. I love you. You’re so loved and we need you, Frankie. She’s gone and you’re still here. It will take time but you’ll be what Ava needs.” You assure him.

“How could I let it happen?” He asks seriously. “I’ve fucking killed people, and my girlfriend was abusing me?” He sounds bewildered because he is unable to rationalize that in his mind. “I don’t- I didn’t stop it, I just- I guess I am less of a man.”

You shake your head, “you didn’t stop it because of Ava. Because you are a good man and you didn’t want to hurt Darcy even though she was hurting you. You’re not less of a man. You were manipulated and abused. Mentally controlled. Verbally and physically abused. Sweetheart, this isn’t your fault.” You promise him, “this isn’t your fault.”

Frankie sighs, feeling exhausted. “I couldn’t let her kill you.” He admits quietly. “I- I almost hit her, but she knocked me out with something.” He looks into your eyes. “Can you-? I just want to get out of here. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

You nod, letting go of his hand and you make your way around the car to get in the driver's seat. You start the engine and make your way down the street past the police cars and the black van so you can get Frankie somewhere safe. He’s quiet for the drive and when you pull up on your driveway, you cut the engine and look at him, “do you want something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.” He murmurs quietly, looking at the front of your place. He honestly wants to shower until his skin is red and then sleep for the next year. “Can- can I shower?” He asks, turning his head quickly and looking at you with wide eyes. “I- I need to feel clean.”

“Of course you can.” You hate that he asks you like that. Like you’re going to slap him for inconveniencing you. “Come on.” You say and open the car door, moving fast to unlock your home so he can get comfortable. “You know where the guest room is. You can stay as long as you like. There’s fresh towels and I think I have a pair of your sweats from when you stayed over a few years ago when you were having your house painted.” You say and he nods, making his way to the bathroom. When he shuts the door, you allow the tears to fall. How did you not see this? How did you let him be abused by Darcy? Why didn’t you check on him more? You feel incredibly guilty.

Inside the bathroom, Frankie turns on the shower and sits on the toilet seat. Shell-shocked and unable to believe what happened. Having a small breakdown when he imagines what could have happened if the police hadn’t come and you had walked into his house. If Darcy had killed you. He slaps his hand over his mouth, starting to sob and trying to keep it quiet.

You wipe your eyes and splash your face with water. You know you didn’t have a clue about the abuse Frankie was facing and you wonder if your presence triggered her or if you made it worse in some way. Her words when you went to tell her about you and Frankie ring in your ears when you remember how vehemently she declared Frankie to belong to her. You wish you had seen the signs. You have to be strong for Frankie though.

Eventually, Frankie climbs into the shower and nearly burns his skin off, scrubbing harshly with the soap and rag to feel clean again. If the tears mix with water and slide down the drain undetected, he doesn’t acknowledge them. Waiting until the water runs icy cold before he turns it off and steps out to wrap a towel around his waist. The bruises are visible. Some fresh and dark purple, others a sickly green and yellowish, making him grimace in the mirror as he traces them before turning away and opening the door. Grateful that you have given him a place to stay tonight.

You look up when Frankie exits the bathroom and comes into the living room with the towel wrapped around his waist and you see the bruises. You choke on your breath, tears in your eyes and you stand up to walk over to him. “Can I- oh God. Frankie.” You sob, reaching up to gently wrap your arms around him and you feel the guilt almost suffocate you.

“I’m okay.” He’s not, but he will be. Overwhelmed by the fact that he is free, he wraps his arms around you and crushes you against him, burying his face into your neck. “Thank you.” He whispers. “For being here.”

“Always, sweetheart. I’m always here for you.” You promise, sniffing as you run your fingers through his hair. “You’re okay.” You echo, “You’re safe.” You promise and you caress his neck. “Why don’t you get some sleep?” You murmur, knowing he must be exhausted.

“I don’t want to be alone.” He whispers and you hum, “you can stay with me. If that’s okay?”

“Please?” It’s pathetic and he can hear Darcy’s voice in his head, reaming him for needing you to sleep beside him, but he tries to ignore that. Sighing softly in relief when you take his hand and guide him towards your bedroom. He needs to be near you, to know that you are okay and that he is safe. It was another reason he had gone with you that night you were together. He had been terrified it had been you on that mountain and then relieved that you were still with him.

“I have your sweats. I’m gonna get ready for bed. I’ll be five minutes, okay?” You ask and he nods. You caress his back and make your way into your bathroom, getting ready for bed. Once you’re in your tank top and shorts, you shut the door behind you and see that Frankie is already in bed. You turn off the lamp and slide under the covers, wrapping your arms around him. “Goodnight Frankie.”

Frankie sighs, relaxing when he wraps his arms around you. Closing his eyes and pressing his nose into your hair. “Goodnight, and thank you again.” He squeezes you tight and settles into the bed, holding you close.

****

It’s been six months since the night Darcy tried to kill you and Frankie has been going to therapy. He is in a much better place and is a loving father to Ava. During his therapy sessions or other appointments, you look after Ava. Darcy’s parents were ashamed of their daughter and her abuse, they have been giving Frankie some space until he is ready to have them back in Ava’s life.

You look up as Frankie comes into the house and Ava rushes over to him, “dada! Dada!” She cries and he bends down to pick her up, kissing her cheek.

“She’s been a good girl?” He asks you and you stand up from the rug scattered with toys.

“She always is.” You coo at Ava. “You want some coffee?” You ask and he nods, holding Ava on his hip. He moved a few weeks after that night, unable to live in that house full of horrid memories and his new place is cozy enough for him and Ava. He got his license reinstated and the boys have been supporting him through everything. Things are finally starting to look up as Frankie is able to process what happened to him at the hands of Darcy. You quickly prepare the coffees and get some milk for Ava along with one of the cookies she loves and she rushes over to eat the cookie on the rug, making you chuckle. “She can never sit still. Just like her father.”

“That’s because if I’m still, I’m gonna fall asleep.” Frankie jokes, smiling at the sight of Ava happily eating a cookie and watching TV. She hadn’t asked about Darcy much, and seemed to accept that momma had gone to Heaven and she wouldn’t see her anymore. In fact, he had often wondered if she had started being mean to Ava because the young girl seems so happy. “You are so good with her.” He tells you, taking the cup of coffee with an appreciative smile. “I don’t think you know how much I owe you.”

“Nothing. You owe me nothing. There’s nowhere else I’d be. I - I love Ava and you needed help. I couldn’t let you do this all on your own after dealing with Darcy. I wanted to help you because I love you both. So much.” You smile and pick up your own cup of coffee. Telling Frankie you love him has become second nature but the true depth of your feelings has never become a subject you’ve been brave enough to broach, especially since he’s been healing physically and mentally from Darcy’s abuse.

Frankie’s stomach flips and he takes another sip of his coffee. You’ve said you love him almost every day and you don’t even know how much it means to him. He’s talked about you in therapy, about his feelings for you and the therapist has encouraged him to start talking to you about them. About how he’s always been in love with you, how he’s still in love with you. That despite what Darcy put him through, he would like to see what could happen with you in a relationship. “I love you too.” He tells you honestly.

His words make your heart thump and your eyes meet his over your cups of coffee, but you don’t get your hopes up that he means he’s in love with you. He’s been through so much. The last thing he probably wants is to get into a relationship. He needs time to heal and to ensure Ava is happy and safe. “I know you do.” You tease softly, “it’s the pasta dish I make, isn’t it?”

“It’s the fact that I’ve always been in love with you.” He admits, setting his coffee mug down and shoving his hands in his pockets. His eyes are searching yours and he’s reminding himself that you wouldn’t react harshly, even if you didn’t feel the same way. “I don’t know what you want. Or how you feel, but Dr. Thomas said that I should talk to you.”

Your eyes widen as you realize he’s serious and you set your coffee cup down so your shaking hand doesn’t spill it everywhere. You stare at him for a moment from the other side of the kitchen and you bite your lip. “You want to know how I feel? I’ve been in love with you since we first met. That night we all went out to the bar to get to know each other and you bought that hat off of some guy in the parking lot. I have been in love with you every day since then and I’ll be in love with you every day from now on. I love you, Frankie. With everything I am.”

He closes his eyes, nodding. As he absorbs the idea that you feel the same way that he does. Feeling the warmth settle in his chest and he bites his lip as he opens his eyes. “I-“ he steps closer to you and reaches for your waist. “I would think about you.” He admits softly. “When Darcy was being really bad, I would remember that one time we were together. It - it saved me.”

Your heart pounds in your chest and simultaneously breaks when you hear that Frankie had to escape like that. You swallow harshly and reach up to cup his cheek, “I wish I could take away everything she did to you.” You whisper, caressing his cheek.

“I -“ he leans into your touch and sighs. “It doesn’t matter now. I just want to move on.” He admits quietly.

“You can move on. You need to confront what happened, be stronger from the experience and move on.” You murmur, leaning in to gently kiss his chin, his stubble scratching your lips. “I love you, Francisco.”

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly. “I want to kiss you sober.”

You nod, moving slowly so he can pull back if he wants and you lean in to softly press your lips to his. It’s gentle and sweet and everything you’ve wanted with Frankie, your body lighting up at the connection. You don’t move to deepen the kiss, wanting him to control this.

He sighs again, sliding his arms up and around you. Softly pulling you closer. He doesn’t think that you will push him away but he wants to give you the time to. If you want to keep it simple.

His hands squeeze your waist and you lean into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. You whimper when his tongue slides against yours and it’s like coming home, like you belong here with him at this moment.

Frankie wants to live in this moment. Feeling your hands on his body, worshiping him with your fingers as they caress his neck. His daughter laughing at her cartoon, safe and sound. He kisses you until he feels like he can’t breathe. Pulling back and smiling at you. “Stay tonight?” He asks softly.

You nod, breathless and lips swollen from his kisses and you whimper when he kisses you again. ****

“She’s asleep.” You tell Frankie as you walk into the living room after putting Ava to bed. She had clung to you for a while until she finally passed out on your shoulder and you put her to bed. Frankie looks up from his phone and sets it down. “You don’t have to put the phone down.” You assure him softly, “I’m not gonna check it.” You promise, knowing that’s part of his learned behavior with Darcy.

“I was texting Benny.” He tells you with a self depreciating grin. “He’s checking on me. Again.” He had been embarrassed, but he told them all what had been happening. Since then, all of them checked in with him at least once a day. He knows they are worried, wanting to make sure he doesn’t start using again.

You come and sit down beside him on the sofa, reaching for his free hand. “They love you. They all wanna make sure you’re okay.” You say and squeeze his hand. “Baby, you’re doing so well.” You praise him.

“I’ll take your word for it.” He chuckles quietly and he squeezes your hand. “I don’t want you to feel like we have to do anything.” He tells you. “But, I - I want to.” He admits. “I’ve been- I jerked off in the shower before you came over.” The therapist had urged him to not hide his needs and to be honest with you. So he is.

You inhale sharply, your stomach twisting with arousal, and you’ve been trying to hide your attraction to him, uncertain if he wants to touch or be touched after suffering such a traumatic event. You shift a little closer to him, “I want to- I want you. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I just want you, Frankie.” You murmur, leaning closer to softly kiss him.

He hums into the kiss, his memory of your only night so far is burned into his brain but he wants something different. That was lust fueled, frantic. “I want to make love to you.” He whispers, moving to kiss along your jaw. “We fucked the last time, I want to make love to you.”

You lean into him, moaning softly at the thought, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, “I would love that, sweetheart.” You murmur, leaning back so you can kiss him properly. His tongue slides against yours for a moment until you pull back, “take me to your bed.” You order softly but you want him to be in control tonight. He has to be comfortable.

He’s nervous now that he’s not high. That he’s doing this with a clear mind. Old anxieties spring to the surface but he pushes them down. You aren’t Darcy and you wouldn’t criticize everything he did in bed. He’s already half hard, proving that he didn’t have any issue getting it up for you.

You stand up and hold your hand out to him. He takes it and escorts you to his bedroom. The bed is messily made but you don’t care about that when Frankie is pulling you close again. “I love you.” You murmur, cupping his cheeks before you lean in to kiss him. His fingers play with the hem of your shirt and you pull back so he can drag it over your head. “Can I take your shirt off?” You ask him and he nods. You move fast to take his shirt off, caressing his skin - free of bruises and no physical scars, except the ones he got in battle, displaying the abuse he endured. “So handsome.” You murmur, admiring him.

Frankie twitches slightly, not that he doesn’t believe you think that, it’s just he’s always been a bit reserved. The other guys were hit on more than he was, though he did alright. He reaches for you, wanting to see your body again. Compare it to the memory he has. “I love you. You are gorgeous.” He hated all the hateful things Darcy had said about you, none of them true. His hands slide under your shirt and he groans as he reveals your plain bra.

You feel gorgeous under his touch, despite the comments from Darcy. You reach down to squeeze him through his pants but he drags your bra down your arms and he’s ducking his head to wrap his lips around your nipple. You gasp, gripping his shoulders, “Frankie. Shit.” You hiss when he bites down, making your cunt clench around nothing.

Frankie moans, his cock fully hard and pressing against his fly. He loves the way that you respond to him and the way your nipple tightens in his mouth. Fingers trance up your spine before he works on undoing your jeans. Wanting to see all of you, touch you. Your taste is still a flavor on his tongue, but he wants to drown in it.

You whimper when he switches to your other breast and whine when he pulls back so he can push your jeans down your legs. “Fuck baby.” You gasp when his hand slides between your legs to rub your clit through your panties.

“Let me make you feel good.” He begs softly. He’s not doing this because he has to. He’s doing it because he wants to, he needs to. His fingers rub the material, groaning around your nipple with the wetness that starts to soak through.

You whimper, rocking your hips down to meet his fingers, and you grip his shoulder while your other hand reaches down to squeeze him through his jeans. “I’m yours. You can do what you want.” You promise him.

“I’m yours too.” He promises, twitching under your touch and loving how eagerly you want him. He pushes under your panties and starts to slowly stroke your clit as he kisses back up your chest and then to your lips.

You moan into his mouth, snaking your hand into his boxers, squeezing him as his fingers rub your clit. “Fuck baby. Never forgot how thick you are.”

“Yeah?” He’s proud of the fact that you think he’s thick. “Do you like it? Thick, I mean? Did it feel good?”

“I loved it.” You promise him, jerking him slowly as his fingers rub your clit and you close your eyes as his lips kiss along your neck. “I love you. Everything about you. Even your demons. I love every part of you. Accept every part.” You promise breathlessly as you squeeze him. “God, I need you inside of me.”

“You don’t want me to eat you out?” He asks in surprise. He had thought you had enjoyed it that night but maybe you just didn’t want it right now. “You’d rather I fuck you?”

You can tell he’s anxious and you pull back to look at him. “Baby, your tongue is literally magic. I never came from oral before your tongue came along. I loved it.” You reassure him, “I just - I want to feel connected to you.” You explain, hoping he understands that this is more than just sex. You want to feel him in your bones, in your soul.

Frankie smiles, relieved that you had cum. He had sworn you had, but he had also been high. “I get it.” He promises you, reluctantly pulling his hand out of your panties and starting to drag them down. “I want to be connected to you too.” He smirks slightly, feeling confident that it will be amazing. Everything with you is amazing.

You smile and caress his cheek with your free hand and you reach down to shove his boxers down his legs. He is throbbing and you want him to feel loved, to feel cherished. You sink down onto your knees, looking up at him. “I love you.” You declare and lean in to wrap your lips around his cock after gripping him. You want to make him feel good, feel cherished.

“Oh fuck.” Frankie chokes out the sound and tries not to buck his hips forward. Chasing the sweet heat of your mouth and the way you softly suckle him. “So good baby. Fuck, baby.” He coos softly, reaching down and stroking your cheek. You look so fucking pretty with his cock in your mouth. “I love you so goddamn much.” He promises, knowing that you don’t pity him for what happened.

You moan around his cock, loving how he is caressing your cheek and praising you. You love how comfortable he is, no longer ashamed of himself after months of therapy. You pull off of his cock, jerking him with your hand, "I love you. You want to cum down my throat or inside of me?" You ask, wanting him to choose.

“Inside.” He croaks out, pulsing in your hand at the thought. “I want to be inside you, so deep I don’t know where I stop and you start.”

You let go of him and shift to stand up, leaning in to kiss him. "How do you want me?" You ask and he murmurs against your lips, "on your back." You nod, shifting to lay down on his bed, naked and aching for him.

Frankie takes his time, standing up and slowly stripping. Watching as you lay down on the bed and spreading your legs to show him your dripping cunt. “So fucking gorgeous and all mine.” He groans, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down to expose his pre-cum stained boxer briefs.

You moan, “all yours baby.” You shift onto your elbows so you can watch him strip off, his pants kicked aside and his fingers wrap around his cock to slowly pump himself. “I’m yours. Always have been. Since we met.” You promise, chest heaving as he kneels on the bed.

“I wish I had Ava with you.” He admits as he shuffles closer. “You are perfect, great with her too, not just me.” He slides a hand along your thigh. “I used to dream of us being a family.”

You look up at him, “we can have a baby together if you want. Give her a sibling. Not now. But when we are ready.” You tell him.

“Yeah?” He groans quietly, imagining how good you would look round with his baby. “I want that. One day when we’re ready.” He slowly strokes his cock again before moving into position between your thighs.

You inhale deeply, eyes focused on him, and when he notches himself at your entrance, shifting onto his elbows, and you reach up to caress his chest as he starts to push inside of you. “I love you, Francisco.” You murmur softly, looking at him with adoration as he pushes inside of you.

It’s slow. Healing almost, as he closes his eyes. Head pressing against your forehead as he lowers himself on top of you and slides his arms under your back. “I love you, baby.” He promises breathlessly. “So much. You’re my everything.”

You whimper as he pushes into you. “Everything.” You echo, knowing it’s always been true. You caress his back as he pushes deep inside of you and you feel full and complete. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you look at him to take in the moment.

Frankie groans your name when he bottoms out, feeling like he’s home deep inside you. The look of adoration in your eyes makes him want to cry and he knows that Darcy never looked at him that way, not even in the beginning. He leans in and presses his lips to yours, twitching when he does.

You caress every inch of skin you can reach, loving how he feels inside of you, and you kiss him tenderly, unrushed. You want this to last forever. You murmur his name against his lips and he starts to move inside of you, making you gasp.

It’s overwhelming. Every time he rocks his hips he feels like he’s in Heaven. Holding you tight and groaning your name as he kisses you over and over again.

You pant into his mouth, heart pounding and skin on fire as rocks into you. It’s sweet and unhurried and takes your breath away. “Fuck, Frankie. This is better than last time.” You confess as he kisses down your neck.

It is better than the last time. Both of you are sober and there’s no lingering guilt because of Darcy. Nothing but the two of you and the pleasure that your love can bring to each other. “I know.” He rasps out. “Never want it to end.”

“Me neither.” You gasp as he rocks into you and you lift your hip, changing the angle, and it makes your breath hitch as he hits something incredible inside of you. “Shit. There, Frankie.” You pant and he nods, brow furrowing as he rocks into you, focusing on that spot. “Oh God.” You cry softly, “oh shit. That’s - oh I’m gonna-” You whine, clamping down on his cock seconds later.

Stealing his breath, Frankie watches as you come apart under him. Barely able to move as you hold his cock in your spasming walls, he grits his teeth as he tries not to cum. Wanting to make it last a little longer. Although he knows he’s going to wrap himself around you all night rather than slink off in shame.

Your eyes are clenched shut as the pleasure surges through you, making your toes curl, and you know you could never live a day without Frankie. You need him now like you need oxygen. “Fuck baby. I- oh God.” You pant, walls relaxing after you soaked his cock with your cum.

“That’s it, fuck you’re so pretty when you cum.” He praises breathlessly, kissing down your jaw. “Love you so much, need you. Want you forever.” He can’t imagine anything else but you.

His words make your heart pound in your chest and your entire body is responding to him. “I need you. Forever, Francisco. I’ve always been yours. I belong to you.” You promise him with a sigh.

He groans quietly as he starts to move again. Knowing that he will cum soon, he slides a hand between you to rub your clit. “Yours baby, I’m yours.” With Darcy, it had been forced, but with you it’s completely honest. “Want you to cum again, baby.”

You whine softly, overstimulated but he pushes you over into pleasure again and you tangle your fingers in his hair to drag his lips back to yours. You wrap your legs around his hips, pushing him deeper and trapping his hand between you. You whimper into his mouth, getting closer until you fall over the edge again, clamping down on his cock.

This time, Frankie is right there with you. Choking out your name as he pushes deep, wanting to be just as buried as he can manage to be when he starts flooding your womb with his hot seed. Panting with every spurt until he’s collapsing on top of you and pressing his lips to your neck.

You caress his back, eyes closed as you realize he’s safe and you’re together. Everything you ever dreamed to come true is now true and you’ll spend the rest of your life protecting him, loving him. He’s still healing but soon, you want to be his wife, the mother of his children, and spend the rest of your days by his side. It’s a bright future with Frankie, something he never imagined possible: a future with you, him, and your children.

#pedro pascal #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales x f!reader #catfish x reader #catfish x you #catfish x f!reader #triple frontier #tw abuse #tw domestic abuse

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musings-of-a-rose · 1 year

Note

Hey! I don’t know if you’re taking requests but I just had a really angsty, sad Frankie idea. Reader used to be in Delta force with the guys but something bad happened, reader dies or is really badly injured. Frankie takes her hat, Standard Heating Oil, and from then on, he wears it every single day as a tribute to his fallen team member (who he was secretly in love with. Maybe he told reader, maybe he didn’t…) Anyway, that’s my idea. Thanks!

Catfish and Shadow

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f! Reader

Word Count: 5400+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: This was such a good ask! It hurts in all the right ways. I’m actually going to pull a little from a real life experience that happened to my husband. If I remember, I’ll put an author’s note at the end with what happened! Huge thanks to @rhoorl for beta reading - if you haven't checked our her fics, go now!

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

“Hold on, Shadow. There’s still some hair sticking out from under your hat.” Frankie turns slightly to me from his place next to me in the dark hallway, reaching up to tuck a random strand of my loose hair under my hat. His fingers linger slightly as his eyes glance down at mine, a quick, soft smile on his face, seeming like he wants to say something but changes his mind at the last minute.

“One of these days you’ll have to tell me what the Standard Heating Oil is from,” Frankie says to me, nodding up to the patch label on my hat.

“If we get out of this alive, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“It’s a deal. Please be safe, Shadow.”

“I always am. Plus, I have you watching my ass so I know I’ll be good.” His ears turn pink as he stammers. But before he can retort, Redfly, our leader, clears his throat. “Everyone ready? Shadow, your hat secure? We don’t want them knowing you’re a woman if we can help it.”

I nod, swallowing down the nerves in my stomach. “Yes, sir.”

Redfly nods at me before looking at Frankie. “Make sure to watch her six. She’s smaller than you, less noticeable, so she’ll be on the ground.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ironhead, Pope, Benny. Ready?” They all grunt their affirmatives, shifting their stance and double checking their concealed weapons were still concealed. “Alright. Let’s move.”

Quietly, we all file out from the darkened hallway, making our way to the front of the clay hut where we had changed into our undercover civilian clothes. The mission was to make it to a building several blocks away and gain access, taking out the mercenaries inside. So far, they have no idea we’re here. Waiting a minute or 2 between people, I leave the hut, taking a left turn towards the center of the town, feeling Frankie’s eyes on me from the rooftops, where he had assumed his position several minutes earlier.

“Duck your head to the right when you round this corner. There’s a group of men,” His voice rasps in my ear over the speaker. I’ll never get over how sexy his voice sounds in this thing, and maybe one day I’ll have the guts to actually tell him. I do as he says, shifting my head more right as I round the corner, pretending to look at some wares a shopkeeper had set up. Luckily the men took zero notice of me, laughing loudly at some joke, their guns slung over their shoulders swaying with their laughter.

“Lookin’ good, Shadow. Just normal civiies all the way to the rendezvous.” I nod slightly, following my orders to say nothing as my voice would give me away not only as a female, but an American as well. I make it to the rendezvous and lean against a wall, looking like I was bored waiting for someone but really I was watching the building front several feet away. A few men file out, but the door closes behind them solidly. I watch the building for several more minutes, hearing the rest of my squad all make it to their positions.

“Advance.” Redfly’s voice speaks in my ear and I push off from the wall, nonchalantly heading towards the front door. No one even looks at me aside from Frankie, who’s eyes I feel boring into me. Taking a deep breath, I make it to the front door, raise my fist, and knock twice, then once, then 3 more times in rapid succession, repeating the pattern the other men had used before entering. The door opens and a man stands there, his eyes meeting mine and briefly showing his non-recognition before the smoke bomb I had concealed in my hand clanks to the floor behind him.

Smoke billows out quickly from the bomb and I duck to the side of the building, hearing Benny, Ironhead, and Pope advance, their gunfire quietly echoing inside the thick clay building. I meet Redfly around the back and he slides me a gun, both of us covering the back exit, taking out a few men who tried to escape instead of holding down the building. One man we miss, but Frankie’s silent but deadly shot rings out from above, the man crumpling to ground, his body silent and unmoving, eyes open but the person gone.

We hear the team move through the rest of the small, 3-storied house, clearing out the floors, Redfly taking out another 2 that tried to escape through the front door where he had moved to a few minutes earlier. No one else tries to come out the back door and then we hear Benny call through the mic. “Clear.” Redfly and I move inside, me following behind him in through the front, meeting the rest of the ground team inside. I stand near the front door, watching the boys as I wait for Redfly to tell Frankie to meet up with us. I’ll feel better once he’s here.

“Frankie, make your way here,” Redfly commands in his mic, Frankie confirming before going quiet again.

“Did you locate the stash?” Redfly addresses the ground team. Benny shakes his head.

“There’s a large trunk upstairs that we need to inspect.”

Redlfy nods. “Anything else?”

Suddenly, a large, unfamiliar arm wraps around me, pulling me tight to someone’s chest, a gun barrel shoved into my temple, rapid words in a language I barely understand being spewed out over my head. My hands wrap around his arm but I can’t force it, the gun barrel pushing in further to my head. I don’t need to understand the language to know he’s telling me to not move. I freeze, the men in front of me desperately trying to negotiate my release, Ironhead rapidly spitting back words in the language I’m kicking myself for not picking up quicker. But then I hear a voice that instantly warms me, tells me everything will be ok and I swear if I make it out of here, I’m telling him exactly how I feel.

“Let her go and put down the gun.” Frankie’s voice is low and demanding, sending a shudder up my spine but not for the same reason as the man behind me, desperately clutching me to his chest. Ironhead repeats Frankie’s words back to him in his language, a quick conversation happening between them. I feel the man’s grip start to loosen, but then a quiet pop sounds, Frankie’s yell ripping through the room as another shot follows, the man that had been holding me falling to the side, a bullet ripping through his neck as he clutches at it, the last few moments of his life spewing from him before he slumps and doesn’t move. It’s not until he hits the ground that I start to feel lightheaded.

“Shadow? Shadow, talk to me!” Frankie is there, dropping himself to the floor as he holds me in his lap, his hand moving to lift up my shirt. Pain rips through me and I grunt, his quiet shushing holding me here as he lifts the edge of my shirt up. He schools his face and that’s when I know it’s bad.

“You didn’t have to wait for me to get shot to take off my shirt, you know.” I can feel the pain sinking in now, the bullet lodged somewhere in my abdomen, slowly signing my death warrant.

Frankie chuckles, swallowing hard to fight back tears. “Is that so?” I can hear Redfly yelling into his mic demanding a medic chopper to our location, the rest of the boys close but giving Frankie and I a little space.

I nod, coughing a little and whimpering at the pain that is caused by the soft movement. “You only had to ask.”

He smiles, tears he can’t stop welling up in the corners of his eyes. “Well that’s good to know. When you get patched up, I’ll take you up on that.”

I smile as best I can, my head feeling like it’s harder and harder to stay here. I blink and Frankie squeezes me lightly. “Hey, stay with me querida. Medic is almost here.”

I swallow hard, now feeling the pool of blood that’s collecting on the floor as it sinks into my pant leg. “Frankie, I don’t-”

“Sshh. Don’t say anything. You’re going to make it. You just have to hold on.”

But already there’s black at the edge of my vision, quickly beckoning me to unconsciousness, my head feeling more and more heavy as I lose more blood. I feel my eyes start to flutter closed as Frankie calls my name, the sound of a chopper getting louder and I’m trying to focus on his voice, his beautiful voice, but then I can’t, sleep taking me over as Frankie yells my real name…

“No! No, you have to stay with me!” Frankie yells, slightly shaking her body which had become more limp as her eyes flutter closed. Medics push in and at first Frankie tries to hold on to her tight, but then Pope and Benny are pulling him from her, letting the medics move in and try to stabilize her.

His Shadow. The love of his life. Why had he never told her?

Quick, rushed movements over her body, rapid words exchanged between the few medics before they place her on a stretcher, quickly moving her to the chopper waiting just beyond the buildings outside. Frankie moves to follow her, but Redfly grabs his arm.

“We need to finish the mission, Cat.”

Frankie’s eyes flash with anger. “What the fuck, Redlfy? Shadow is dying on that chopper. I’m going with her!”

“No you aren’t. That’s an order.”

“Then court marshal me.” But it’s already too late. Frankie hears the chopper ascend, carrying the person he loves most in this world away from him as she bleeds out, alone. Well not alone, but not with him.

Frankie screams, dropping to his knees as pushes his face into his hands, tugging on his hair. They let him have this moment, all of them feeling the loss of her, like a gaping hole that they have to patch up quickly that won’t feel the same. A minute goes by before Benny moves forward, dropping to a knee next to Frankie and putting his hand on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze.

“Hey man. I’m sure she’ll be ok.”

Frankie’s tear stained face looks up at him. “You don’t know that.”

“You’re right. I don’t. But I do know we have to finish this mission so we can all get back safe and find her. She wouldn’t want to lose all of us because we didn’t move in time.”

The anger in Frankie’s eyes simmers at Benny’s words. He’s right. He may hate it but he’s right. Frankie nods, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve. He moves to stand up but then he sees it on the floor, Shadow’s hat, the Standard Heating Oil logo dusty from being on the dirt floor. Frankie picks it up and dusts it off, quickly adjusting it to his size before snugly placing it on his head. Everyone nods at him, accepting this way to honor their injured teammate.

The mission is a success and they all get lifted back to base. It had been a few days since Shadow was airlifted back to medics and Frankie was itching to see if she was ok. He was determined to tell her how he feels the moment his eyes find hers. He makes his way to the medical building as soon as his boots hit the floor, Benny following behind him as the rest of the team goes to debrief. Frankie pushes open the front door and stops at the little receptionist desk, the woman behind it squinting at the screen as she slaps the side of the monitor.

“I swear they need to get us a flat panel or something. This thing is ancient.” She looks up at Frankie, a smile on her face. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a soldier who would’ve come in 3 days ago, gunshot wound to the abdomen.” She nods as he gives her her name, the receptionist’s fingers clinking away at the keyboard. She squints at the screen again, another slap to the side of the monitor.

“Yes I see her here…gunshot wound…and you are her...?”

“Teammate. We both are,” Frankie says as Benny nods over his shoulder.

Her eyes move back to the screen as she reads some more, her lips moving with the words as she reads them. Then she stops, taking off her glasses and setting them to the side. She takes a breath and Frankie’s stomach falls out.

“I’m sorry to tell you, but she passed.”

“Passed? What do you mean passed?” Frankie asks, the lady looking from him to Benny behind him, who had silent tears streaming down his cheeks already.

“Fish-” Benny puts his hand on his shoulder but Frankie shrugs it off.

“No, don’t! What does she mean? Tell me!” He’s yelling now, Benny trying to pull him away from the receptionist, apologizing to her. She smiles sadly, a knowing look on her face.

Frankie turns to Benny, gripping his sleeves as Benny tries to pull him into his chest. “No Ben, what..she..she can’t, I never told her-” and then he crumbles into Benny’s chest, face buried in his shoulder as he wails, a hole in his gut getting larger and larger as his grief consumes him. Benny holds him tight, his own tears at the loss of his friend that was like a sister to him, trickling down his cheeks as he listens to his best friend wail into the quiet hall.

24 hours later they’re called out for another mission, Frankie pulling her hat on tight, the way he can carry her with him as he swallows down the grief that consumes him whenever he isn’t on a mission. He pours himself into his work, protecting his friends and doing what his country asks of him.

I blink awake, the lights in whatever room I’m in are dimmed, giving the room a slight yellow-white glow. I shift and wince, the bullet would in my abdomen screaming at me to be still. I place my hand over it and feel a large bandage. It’s then I realize that I’m in a hospital gown and in a hospital bed, definitely not the med bay back at base. A nurse walks into the room and smiles at me.

“Oh you’re awake! How do you feel?”

“Like I was shot in the stomach,” I croak out as she hands me a cup of water, a straw sticking out of the top.

“Small sips. Yeah I would imagine it doesn’t feel great. Would you like something more for the pain?”

I take a small sip and cough, managing to swallow a little of it. “I don’t know, honestly. How long have I been out?”

She glances at my chart. “Several days.”

“Where am I?”

She names off a hospital and seems to see that I have no idea what she’s talking about. “It’s an American run hospital here.”

“So, I’m not on base then?”

She shakes her head. “No. They moved you here because of the severity of your wounds. Let me grab the doctor.” She leaves the room and returns 20 minutes later with a man in a white coat. He takes my chart from her and scans it, nodding.

“How are we feeling?”

“Like we were shot in the stomach.”

He chuckles at my recycled joke. “Yeah I imagine so. If you need anything stronger let us know.”

I nod. “The nurse mentioned I’m not on base?”

He shakes his head. “Your injuries were too extensive to be treated on base so they brought you here immediately. We had to do surgery to remove the bullet and repair the damage it caused. You’ll feel it for a while but there shouldn’t be any long term damage, aside from a scar.”

I nod. “Thank you, doctor.” He nods and leaves the room, the nurse coming back over to me.

“Do you need anything else?”

“Uh yeah, actually. Do you have clearance? To ask about another soldier?”

She nods. “I do.” She takes a paper and pen from her scrub pocket. “Write down their names and I’ll see what I can find out.”

I write down the names of my team mates, my heart tightening when I write Frankie’s name, him screaming my name with wide eyes the last thing I remember before blacking out. I hate that I put him through the ringer. It’s not my fault I know, but at least I made it and now I can tell him how I feel. I think he may feel the same for me?

The nurse leaves with my thanks and I’m left to flip through channels on the older tv that’s sitting on a hanging shelf in the upper corner of the room. There’s nothing on but I mindlessly flip through them, nervously waiting for the nurse to return. She comes back a few hours later, bringing with her my medication.

“I’m sorry it took me a minute. There’s a lot of Miller’s to sift through.”

I smile. “Yeah. Common name.” She hands me a cup with pills in it, telling me it’s my pain meds and other post surgery ones. But it’s the way she’s not quite meeting my eyes that puts me on alert. I take the meds as requested, handing her back the small paper cup.

“Just me tell me. Please.”

The nurse sighs and hesitates a brief moment before taking my hand, gently swiping her tumb across the back of my hand.

“I’m sorry dear. But none of them made it. Looks like a classified mission. ”

I pause. “What?”

“N-none of them made it.”

“Did you tell them Delta Force? Sometimes we’re in a different section.”

She nods. “Yes, ma’am. It’s…confirmed.” She squeezes my hand but I can’t register anything else she says over the high pitched ringing in my ears. Gone? That can’t be right. They were all very much alive when I…no no no! They can’t be…Frankie can’t be….The wail that rips from my throat sounds inhuman, grief spewing from my body as I scream, the nurse trying to calm me, the stitches on my stomach bursting with pain as my stomach contracts and I throw up, continuing to scream as other nurses come into the room, one of them pushing a needle into my arm and I slowly pass out, the last thought I have is of Frankie and his big, brown eyes and how I’ll never see them again.

There was no funeral. Or rather it had been finished before I could leave the hospital. I couldn’t bring myself to fly out to their graves, to see their names etched in stone. Instead, I stayed at my parent’s house, grief and depression consuming me for years. Eventually I crawled out, poking my head above the surface and taking a small breath in the form of painting. I was pretty good at it too. I sold several pieces and some rich guy commissioned me to do paintings for every room in his house. Once that was completed, several of his friends reached out and before I knew it, I had quite a little business going.

It felt good, to do something with my hands besides peeling back the skin at the corners of my nails. The hole the boys left was still very much there and I suspect it will never quite go away. But the wound Frankie’s death left behind still hurts almost as much as it did when I first found out he died about 7 years ago. Once I started painting, my parents tried to set me up on dates, but nothing ever took. I don’t want any of them. The other half of me is buried in the earth and I’ve been coming to terms with that. Which will probably take the rest of my life and the next.

My phone bings and I set down my brush, swallowing hard as I look at the shade of brown paint, nearly an exact match for Frankie’s eyes. A quick glance and it’s a text from my mom.

Mom: You’re still coming this weekend?

Yes mom. I promised I’d house sit for you after the party.

Mom: Are you sure? It’s such a long way

Mom, it’s your 30th anniversary. I’m not missing that.

Mom: Well, if you’re sure. Don’t forget to pack that lovely dress I bought you.

Of course. Just promise not to set me up with anyone

Mom: See you Friday!

I don’t like the way she avoided that last one, but I can easily get rid of them. Once they get a glimpse of my PTSD, they run.

Friday rolls around and I step off the plane, pulling my backpack up higher on my shoulder, spotting my dad through the crowd of people waiting just beyond TSA. He smiles wide and pulls me to him in a tight hug.

“Your mom wanted to come but there was some last minute emergency with the cake.”

“Sounds serious.”

He chuckles and I smile. I had missed my parents.

“Wanna grab a drink before we head home?”

“Shit, she set me up didn’t she?”

He laughs loudly this time. “She’s pretty obvious, huh? She’s just worried about you, kid. But-” he puts his hands in the air as I open my mouth to protest “-I told her you wouldn’t be interested and to leave you alone. As far as I know, she understands. Or at least she pretends to.”

A quick drink at an unfamiliar bar and then I’m walking back into my childhood home, nearly the same as it was from my childhood, just newer electronics. My mom comes into the room, her phone clutched to her ear as she listens to someone rattle off on the other end.

“Well I don’t care how it’s done but do it! The party is tomorrow!” She hangs up and sighs before giving me a tight hug.

“Everything ok, mom?”

“Oh yeah. Just people not wanting to do their jobs. But it’s fine! You’re here!”

The party passes in a blur, one guy coming to talk to me briefly before my dad whisks him away, giving me a wink as he does so. The party was beautiful and romantic, my parent’s love on full display. They leave right after the party, jetting off to Europe for 2 weeks, the honeymoon they never got to have. And as the only child without my own children, I get the honor of house-sitting, which isn’t too bad. It’s nice to get away from the city and all the bustle it brings.

Sunday morning I wake when I want, stretching before I head downstairs for some coffee, scratching absentmindedly at the scar on my stomach as I slide my hand under my Fleetwood Mac shirt. No, not mine. His. I had swiped it from him before our mission, a practical joke for when we returned from our mission and he saw it was missing. I slept with it for months after his death, eventually putting it in a ziploc bag when I noticed the smell fading and only brought it out on his birthday and when life got a little too hard. With all the love celebrating last night, my heart hurt and hung heavy, old tears falling new on my cheeks as I excused myself to cry in the bathroom for a bit, missing my what could have been. So I figured I needed the shirt. Sighing, I take a sip of my coffee, staring out of the back window at my mother’s garden, trying to take in it’s beauty and not fall too far into my own grief.

“You’re really going out there?” Benny asks Frankie, watching him toss clothes into a backpack.

“Yeah. We never went out there when we got back and I think it’s time. I just feel it.”

Benny nods. “I get it man, but what are you gonna say to her parents? ‘Sorry I never came to the funeral?’”

Frankie gives his friend a look as he zips up his backpack. “I don’t know, Ben. I just…after all these years, and the shit I’ve been through, I…I need to see her.”

Benny gives his friend a small smile. “Tell Shadow we’ll make it an annual thing and all come out to see her next year. Put an extra flower down for me?”

“I’ll make sure she knows one of them is from you.”

Benny takes his friend to the airport, pulling him into a bear hug before he boarded. The flight was uneventful, Frankie constantly checking the note in his phone with her parent’s address on it. He’d had it all these years, but never could bring himself to visit, to tell them her death was his fault, that he should’ve shot sooner or just taken the guy out. But he couldn’t tell them that, classified, and then he poured himself into his work, earning himself a sleeping disorder, a drug addiction, and a strong case of PTSD. He’d come out the other side of the addiction with the help of his friends, but the sleeping issues and PTSD remained. He supposed they always would, watching her face as the life drains from her, the love of his life.

He gets out of the rental car, taking a deep breath as he walks up the drive to the front door. It’s a nice house on a quiet street and for a moment, he listens to the sounds of the neighborhood, picturing what it must have been like for her to have grown up here, run up and down these same front steps. Tears well in his eyes and he tries to swallow them back as he knocks, afraid that if he doesn’t do it now, he’ll back out and run away, not able to at least look her parents in the eye.

But when the door opens, it’s not her mom or dad or any of her siblings. Frankie’s breath catches in his throat, his heart beating so rapidly he’d swear it was beating out of his chest, his brain trying to process what he’s seeing.

“Frankie?”

I’m halfway through my cup of coffee when someone knocks at the door. I think my mom said some packages were being delivered but I don’t want them to sit on the porch. I set my mug down and walk to the front door, unlocking it and opening it to look into deep brown eyes. Eyes I thought I would never see again. My heart leaps from my chest, my stomach twisting, my brain rapidly trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Have I finally lost it? Gone mad with grief? But then a slight breeze picks up and his hair moves and I snap out of it just enough.

“Frankie?” I think I say it, my brain still not sure if I’m hallucinating.

“Sh-Shadow?” His fingers reach towards me, barely ghosting across my cheek, but..they’re real. I can feel him touching me. He’s real and alive and I’m so confused but it can’t be my brain tricking me, right?

Suddenly he reaches out, yanking me to his chest and burying his nose in my hair, my arms winding around him and gripping him tight, inhaling him as my face presses to his chest. Tears flow freely as I grab at him, feeling him solidly under my grasp.

“I thought you were dead,” he cries into me, his tears making my hair damp.

“I thought you were dead!”

He pulls away a small bit and takes my face in his hands, his eyes looking between mine. “This is real, right? You’re really…real?”

I nod. “I am. Are you?”

“I am. I…I love you!” And then his lips are pressed to mine, soft and slightly chapped, one of his hands sliding around to the back of my head, the other settling on my hip. I kiss him back, pouring a decades worth of love and grief into that kiss for several moments before a sob erupts from my throat and I break the kiss, heaving as I cling to his shirt.

“I-I-I’m s-s-s-sorry! I-I-I l-l-love y-you t-t-too!” My sobs break up my speech and I feel ridiculous, but Frankie laughs and I start to cry all over again. I’d forgotten his laugh and how warm it makes me feel and I would do anything to hear that sound for the rest of my life.

“I am barely holding it together, querida. I-wait. Is that my Fleetwood Mac shirt?”

My sobs turn into a seal bark of a laugh, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, feeling his fingers on my hip still.

“Yeah. Ha-ha I got you!”

He chuckles as he kisses me again, fingers digging deeper into my hip as he walks me back into the house, kicking the door closed behind him.

Instead of talking, we spend the next several hours in bed, Frankie pressing himself between my legs, sliding into me as if we were made for each other, years of longing and grief poured into every meet of our hips. Once we get out of a lengthy shower, Frankie lays on my childhood bed and beckons me to him, pulling me down to him as I cuddle into his side, my hand on his chest and leg over his, his fingers tracing the end of the scar that derailed my life. Our lives.

“You’ve been alive all this time?” I ask, turning my head up to look at him.

He nods sadly. “Yeah.”

“All of you?”

“Yeah, why?”

I cry again, guilty that I didn’t confirm this before he pressed me into my bed but I was so overwhelmed I didn’t even think about it. He holds me and gives me time to cry, speaking words of comfort in my ear.

“I asked the nurse to look you all up and she said you had died. That…that all of you had…had…”

“What? No, we came back from the mission a few days…after. Then we had to ship out a day later on a new one. I asked the receptionist at the med building and she said you had died.”

Anger surges through me at the years we lost over incorrect records. “Ok, who do I have to fuck up for this? Because this was bullshit. I…I don’t have words, Frankie, I-”

“I know, querida. It was either wrong records or they looked at the wrong name. And I may seem calm, but inside I’m seething. I just…I’ll deal with that later. For now, I just want to hold you and celebrate the fact that you’re alive and…wait. Did you say you love me too?”

“Francisco Morales, you have touched my body in nearly every way possible and you’re questioning my love?”

“Well I’m still not entirely sure you’re real.”

I shift, leaning up to press my lips to his. “I guess we have all the time in the world to find out.”

2 months later, we get married in my parent’s backyard, all of the Delta Force boys there to cheer us on.

Author’s Note: My husband is a veteran who served around the time of 9/11. He was injured overseas and left the army. His friends/team mates all signed back up. When he was able, he asked about his friends in order to stay in contact and was told they had all died, killed in action overseas.

Flash forward nearly 2 decades later, he makes a comment in a Facebook page for memes and gets a comment back with his nickname from back in the day. One of his friends had actually been alive this entire time and that friend had been told that my husband had died.

Facebook may be a lot of shit, but will always have a spot in my heart for it for bringing back my husband’s friend from the dead. I will never forget the look on his face when he came out to tell me!

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @marrianena @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character ff #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco catfish morales

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campingwiththecharmings · 6 months

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okay so, i'm hella behind on reading, and for some reason it's so fucking hard for me to find time/energy to read much these days, but i still want to highlight at least some of the fics i've been able to read so, i'll be doing fic recs quarterly this year instead of monthly. hope y'all enjoy 🪷💜

**please be sure to read any/all warnings attached to recommended fics prior to reading**

🔥 - explicit/mature content

PART ONE (bc tumblr is being a bitch and won't let me post all of them in one post)

Star Wars

Seeds of Love (Poe Dameron x Reader) - @moonlight-prose

🔥Best Ride in the Galaxy (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @lotusbxtch

size doesn't matter (Poe Dameron x Reader) - @hoedamn-eron

🔥Come Back to Me (Poe Dameron x F!Reader) - @reallyrallyauthor

Ex Machina

🔥In Plain Sight (Nathan Bateman x F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch

Assembly Required (Nathan Bateman x Reader) - @reallyrallyauthor

Skittish (Nathan Bateman x Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch

🔥Again (Nathan Bateman x F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch

Triple Frontier

🔥Room's on Fire (Dark!TF Boys x F!Reader) - @romana-after-dark

I'll be the silence ringing through and through and through (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @eyelessfaces

Personal Issue (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch

🔥The Worst (Tom "Redfly" Davis x Dark!Reader) - @toxicanonymity

The Dead Horse (Santiago Garcia x Black!F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch

🔥Tag-Teaming (Santiago Garcia x F!Reader x Frankie Morales) - @fettuccin-e

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse

🔥The Sweetest Fruit in the Garden (Miguel O'Hara x Older!F!Reader) - @missdictatorme

🔥Through the Window (Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader) - @spacecowboyhotch

Sucker Punch

🔥Good Boy Blue (Club!Blue Jones x F!Reader) - @reallyrallyauthor

🔥Just Be Good (Orderly!Blue Jones x F!Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

🔥Private Dances (Club!Blue Jones x F!Reader) - @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

Inside Llewyn Davis

again (llewyn davis x reader) - @eyelessfaces

don't let go (llewyn davis x reader) - @runa-falls

keys (llewyn davis x reader) - @eyelessfaces

Misc

🔥my ex's tapes (Ex!Basil Stit x F!Reader x FWB!Jake Lockley) - @runa-falls

🔥Sweet Like (Modern!Leto Atreides x F!Reader) - @reallyrallyauthor

Thank you to all the wonderful writers for sharing their stories with us 🥰❤️

*For more recs, please feel free to check out my fic rec tag.

**If you’d like to have your fic removed, please just let me know.

[FIC RECS PART TWO]

#poe dameron x reader #nathan bateman x reader #santiago garcia x reader #frankie morales x reader #will miller x reader #benny miller x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #blue jones x reader #llewyn davis x reader #basil stitt x reader #leto atreides x reader #fic rec

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jeewrites · 7 months

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Hold Fast - Series Master List [Ongoing]

Series Summary: Frankie gets picked up at Redfly's Bar by a powerlifting girlie.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader/powerlifting!reader Rating: Eventually Explicit (18+ ONLY, MDNI)

Hold Fast Chapter List Ch. 1 - Will Squat for Dinner Ch. 2 - SBD & Cinnamon Rolls Ch. 3 - Curdles Ch. 4 - Chicken Soup Ch. 5 - 5 Courses Ch. 6 - Knuckle Sandwich (Updated 5/24!) Ch. 7 - Coffee & Donuts (Forthcoming) Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 - Ch. 10 - Epilogue

Series Tags/Warnings (will update as fic progresses!): no y/n, reader has a nickname, rom com-y, fluff, some angst, gymbff!Benny, Dad!Frankie, Sweet!Frankie, alcohol, swearing, reader is a powerlifting girlie described as short and has hair long enough to put into a ponytail, Tom is alive unfortunately (we hate Tom), Tom owns a bar called Redfly's, Pope owns a gym, alcohol, OC!Chloé, OC!Mike, body insecurity, smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it up folks), implied oral (m and f receiving), cock warming if you blink?, descriptions of a physical fight (not between Frankie and reader), prev abusive relationship mentioned (lightly described), panic attack, fictional description of custody arrangements, adulation of thighs, Triple Frontier AU where all the guys return from Colombia alive with a day pack of $ each, alternating POV, gratuitous descriptions of food, thoughts on having kids, medical terms related to pregnancy (no pregnancy), use of Daddy but not like that

Taglist: @katareyoudrilling @christinamadsen @rebel-held @littlemisspascal

@burntheedges @darkheartgatita @enretrogue @titabel @copperhalfcent

@triplefrontier-anniversary @iamskyereads

Tag list is open!

#hold fast a frankie x powerlifting!reader fanfic #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal cinematic universe #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction

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pedrostylez · 7 months

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How The Crow Flies - pt. 9

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 5.4k

Chapter Summary: You and Javier complete the raid on Lorea's house while Frankie is escaping with what is remaining of his crew

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. Hurt feelings, violence, and blood mentioned heavily in parts, including description of bodies piled up, admitting of feelings (to the best of his ability) by Javier, SMUT including riding, but honestly it's brief.

A/N: Omg the final part! Once again, thank you guys for being patient. I hope you all enjoy and don't hate me for how I left it at the end...open to interpretation? Anyways....love you all! If I have missed any tags for trigger warnings, please let me know and I will fix it. Thank you for reading!!!

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981 @mellymbee

Frankie is tired. Arms aching, legs screaming, ready to collapse, tired.

His mind is clouded, exhaustion taking hold as Benny hands him another backpack full of money. The wind whips across his face, the thin air making him gasp a bit louder than he intended. Benny looks at him with a worried expression, shaking his head when Frankie shrugs off the look he gives him. “Almost done, man.”

“Yeah.” Frankie calls, tossing the bag up with a grunt. He glances over to Santiago, his face caved in with dark outlines and circles around his eyes.

He knows they are all pissed at him.

Crashing the helicopter was all he had left to do, and even though Redfly said it was fine, said he picked the best option there was, there’s this sinking feeling in Frankie’s stomach. More is about to go wrong, and it’s all Frankie’s fault for not putting his foot down when they overloaded the helicopter.

How could he deny Tom’s instruction? It was a losing battle, and even though they needed him to fly, he’s sure that he would have been cast aside if he had refused another time. And the looks exchanged between them when Refly shot at the group that surrounded them once they were all out of the crash…

All Frankie could think about was your face as he crashed the helicopter into the ground, and now your face as he throws another bag to Benny. You would have been disappointed too, he thinks.

This is going to be long and torturous.

Javier watches your legs jump in the passenger seat, the tac-vest feeling tight across his chest. He reaches out, only having a little while longer of being alone with you before he has to pretend you’re just another agent-his employee. “It will be okay, hermosa.”

You nod, giving a brief, closed lip smile, wrapping your fingers around his. “I know.”

He squeezes your thigh once more, letting it rest there until they turn on to a dirt road. You tense, retracting your hand and breathing heavily through your nose. Closer and closer, you become rigid in your seat, watching the mirror to make sure the caravan of agents is still following.

“How far we going? Over.” Jason speaks through the radio, you jumping in your seat at the sound. Javier chooses to not answer, knowing that they are close and not wanting to call any further attention to themselves for those that may be listening in. He refuses to let this be another fuck up.

As his car continues down the road the trees become dense, the dirt turning to mud, and the radio picks up chatter that is new to him. Tilting his head to listen, his fingers subconsciously squeeze tighter around your leg. You grunt, grabbing at his wrist to indicate as such, but he holds on as the words through the radio become clearer.

“Someone is coming.”

“Get the boy somewhere safe.”

You frown, biting at your bottom lip and looking over to him. “The boy must be his son.”

Javier grunts, pulling his gun from his holster with one hand while keeping the steering wheel steady. You do the same with your own, holding on to the dash as Javier speeds up. If they already know that they are on their way, this likely will be a gunfight. “How old is he?”

“Less than 10. But his mother and his sister…” You trail off in confusion, looking ahead and contemplating internally. You come to a realization, shaking your head profusely before speaking. “I don’t know what those guys did, but if they are protecting the son exclusively–”

“Then Lorea may be dead.” Javier finishes your sentence, pulling the car off to the side of the road roughly. The other vehicles follow suit, everyone stepping out with weapons drawn and ready. “On foot, be ready. Supposed to be 20 guards.” He calls to the others, crouching low and leading you toward the house.

He’s relying on you, on your information that you’ve gathered so far. It should be good intel, and you don’t show signs that you think otherwise. Your hand is resting on his shoulder as you both team up, stepping through the greenery and mud methodically on the way to each building ahead.

You tap his shoulder and point, sliding your arm up so that he doesn’t have to look behind him. “Back security house, there should be 5 in there.”

He nods, glancing around quickly before bringing you toward the security building. You’re both crouched under each window, guarded and ready to take action. It’s silent, no movement to be heard beyond the wooden walls and he watches as you frown, trying to listen. You both step to the door, a silent countdown until he lifts his leg and kicks just below the handle, breaking down the door in one swift motion. He holds his gun ready, searching with it, leading and finding nothing.

No one.

You gasp behind him, his attention drawn to where you’re looking to find a poorly stacked amount of bodies and blood in the corner. It stinks, the smell permeating around him as he looks around and goes for the bathroom door. It’s unlocked, no one behind it.

You both stand there in awe, listening for anyone else to say something into your separate ear pieces, or for gunshots to be heard. Nothing comes and you’re back to shaking your head. He can see your inhale sharply, wincing as the smell circles around you. “This is…weird.” You admit, holstering your gun and looking to the pile of men again.

“I thought you said they were just here for the money.” Javi grunts, stepping out of the security house and poking his head around the corner. No one else is in sight, and no noise of their agents are around either.

“Maybe they…got caught?” You guess about Santiago and his crew, shaking your head. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s go to the main house.” Javi decides, stepping in front of you and holstering his own gun. If this is how one security house is, then so will the others, and he is less worried about being swarmed. He takes less careful steps toward the main house where the rest of his team went.

Redfly is dead, Frankie is freezing his ass off, and all he can think about is your god damned face. He knows Will and Benny are looking at him, wondering why Frankie isn’t as quick to answer them, why he’s being closed off, but he just can’t help it.

Santiago is too stuck in his own head to notice.

Redfly’s body is sitting just a few yards away, wrapped with a tarp and covered, but Frankie swears he can still see his open eyes after he was shot. The boy that shot him is long forgotten, down the mountain a ways and he feels guilty that he doesn’t care as much as he thought he would. Frankie is too focused on the fact that when he closes his eyes, it’s either you, or Tom’s dead eyes. There’s only a few more bags of money, and he’s having a hard time believing this was worth it.

“Tell me about your girl, Fish.” Benny calls, shoving his hands into his armpits to generate some heat. His hood ruffles in the wind, the fire from the money they were willing to burn flickering between them.

Frankie shakes his head, sniffling and looking down at his knees. They’re covered in dirt, cold and aching. “Don’t have a girl.” He knows it’s pointless, to even deny. But there’s a part of him that wants to keep you to himself, still. Maybe if he blows Benny off, then he won’t ask again.

He’s wrong, of course. Benny scoffs, shaking his head and looking at Will. “He had that girl Yovanna set up for the jungle in his motel room a few times.” The smile grows on Ben’s face, white teeth stark against the dark surrounding him.

“Not supposed to be mixing like that, Fish.” Will chastises, smiling anyway. The brothers and their matching smiles staring back at Frankie, taunting him.

Frankie keeps his mouth shut, cracking his neck and adjusting his feet. He takes a look over to Santiago and sees his eyes are on him too, curious as the others, and he sighs. They aren’t going to let it go, it seems. “Probably won’t see her again.” Frankie mumbles, his chin jutting closer to his chest to let some of his breath warm the inside of his jacket.

Benny laughs at him, pointing a finger in his direction. “Sure you will, Fish. Keep your head on straight and you can come back down here, free as a bird, and see her again if you wanted.”

It’s silent while Frankie thinks, finally coming to the conclusion to tell them what he found out about you. “She…she was more than just what Yovanna hired.”

Yovanna was long gone, already on her way to Australia as far as they were all concerned. Benny quirks his eyebrow up at Frankie, glancing at Will and then giving a small shove with his shoulder against his, silently asking him to continue.

A sigh falls from Frankie’s lips, shaking his head before letting it fall out of his mouth. “She’s the Siren, from Miami.”

When he looks up at them their eyes are wide and stupefied. All watching him closely, confusion clear before a laugh bubbles out of Will. “No fucking way.”

Frankie nods, a small chuckle escaping. “Yovanna hired the DEA as her whore.”

Everyone is quiet for another moment, all eyes going to Santiago. Pope’s eyes widened, looking between them all and then a burst of laughter fell from his mouth.

Benny and Will join, all of them beginning to laugh around the blazing fire until one begins to wheeze. As it quiets down, Frankie realizes that all eyes are still on him waiting for further explanation. He looks at the three of them and sighs. “The only reason I found out was because her boss called her cellphone while she was in the bathroom.”

“What a shame.” Will said, shaking his head. “Could have gotten her killed if it wasn’t you.”

Frankie winces, remembering the knife pressed to your chest that he clutched in his hands. The fear in your eyes as blood pooled and dripped down doesn’t quite leave him as he says, “I mean, I almost did.”

“Well, it’s good that you didn’t.” Benny exclaims, slapping a hand over his back. “Would have to be running from the DEA rather than a bunch of drug lords.”

Frankie gives a half hearted laugh, looking out beyond the mountain and frowning. He wonders where you are, and if Javier Pena is keeping you safe. He glances over to Redfly, his body covered and supporting the weight of a single bag of money. He doesn’t think this was worth it after all.

Panic is coursing through you at the sight; men dead both DEA and Lorea’s, mop buckets dumped and water stained with blood. Drywall is ripped from most of the walls with stacks of money hanging haphazardly from the crumbling panels.

Javier’s mouth is open in shock, and the way you reach for him to hold yourself upright shocks you, the dizziness overwhelming. “What is….what?”

He’s shaken out of his thoughts with your touch, closing his mouth and holding your arm just above your elbow to keep you upright. He turns just as Jason steps past him. “What the fuck happened?”

Jason winces at his tone, cracking his neck. “Remaining security guards were ready for us, but most of these guys were already dead. Looks like they were cleaning up.”

“Lorea?” Javier presses, stepping toward Jason as if to pounce.

Jason doesn’t react, giving a half-hearted shrug. “Dead.” He points, moving toward the staircase. “Upstairs, if you want to see for yourself.” His eyes flash to yours sympathetically, then turning to go up the stairs.

Javier looks to you, squeezing your arm gently before letting go and leading the way to the master bedroom. You attempt to follow him, slowly climbing the stairs until Javier is out of sight ahead of you.

You’re sweating, clutching onto the stair rail and to the walls that are still standing as images of being in here only a few days ago go through your mind. It feels hard to breathe, seeing the blood smeared on the walls and the bodies piled in a corner or being moved by DEA men.

You weren’t used to this-only ever dealing with people that were alive and putting them behind bars. Never a raid like this-you weren’t ready for it.

You gasp, shocked as you step into the master bedroom where the dresser has been pushed to the side, the wall covered in holes and Lorea on the ground.

Behind his dead body is a dark room with still working security cameras, and a pile of money that has been combed through. The walls in the main bedroom have been torn from the studs, drywall and wood scattered around with torn and crumpled bills. It’s almost unbelievable, how things have been left. Did Frankie do this?

You begin shaking your head, whispering mostly to yourself, “I don’t understand.”

Javier comes up behind you, the stress and anger roiling off of his body before he gently grasps your arm. “Your friends got what they wanted out of this it looks like.” He gruffs out, pouting in a way that typically annoys you. Currently, you’re unsure if he’s angry and that alone stresses you out.

You turn to him, frowning. “This isn’t what I thought it would be Javi–”

“Don’t.” He stops you, turning to look at Jason and the others in the room who are still occupied. He closes his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose. When he turns back to you, you are now sure that he is angry, no question. “You need to go downstairs, go sit in the car. I have to do damage control with Stechner.”

You go to protest him, shaking your head defiantly. “Well, let me help–”

“No.” He huffs, adjusting his stance to stand farther away from you. “You’ve done enough.”

You step back blindly, looking over to Jason who is eyeing you curiously, David who is pretending to not notice and taking photos of Lorea. Tears begin to well in your eyes as you walk down the steps to the front corridor, stopping in your tracks at the opening.

You breath starts to come heavily, difficult to push past your mouth. You lean forward, hands on your knees and let some tears fall. This is not how this was supposed to go. Frankie was supposed to get in and out. They weren’t supposed to kill this many people.

You feel guilt roiling in your stomach, looking around briefly to see if anyone is watching you while uncontrollable tears are rolling down your face. You aren’t able to comprehend how this happened-you thought you did everything right. You did what you were told, as much as you were told with only a few hiccups along the way.

Frankie was a hiccup.

The idea that Javi had been right flashes through your mind, shaking your head at yourself almost immediately. No, that can’t be right. But how did you seriously believe that Frankie and all of them would just sneak in for money and leave without hurting someone?

Your heartbeat slows down as you lean against the door frame and look out into the jungle, watching the leaves sway in what little wind there was. You glanced toward the direction of Javier’s vehicle, not seeing a soul in the yard. Turning to look into the room you’re at the threshold of, you also didn’t see anyone.

Frankie had said they were here for a payday.

Your eyes lock on a hole in the wall, the plaster thrown about and piles of money stacked haphazardly in between the studs. You wonder why they didn’t take all the money, looking to a duffle bag that is currently empty, labeled “DEA” on the outside.

Your mind sparks with interest, looking over the duffle and finding yourself suddenly in front of the hole in the wall, duffle in hand. You give a final glance around, still alone, and begin blindly reaching into the wall and shoving the duffle full of money.

To be honest, you don’t really know what you’re doing. You keep hearing voices from above you, the movement of Javier, Jason and David, but it doesn’t stop you from almost filling the bag full.

You step out into the yard, trudging in the direction of Javier’s car and throwing the duffle into the floorboard of the passenger seat. Maybe this did go all to shit, and maybe you were going to lose your job, but you weren’t going to go empty handed.

Javier is trying desperately to keep his cool. He couldn’t help the coldness toward you when he asked you to go down to the car. He needed to start planning how he was going to handle Stechner.

That son of a bitch was going to fire him.

You were silent as you left, too dumb founded and concerned to really have anything else to say. He knew you weren’t prepared to see this; you had trusted what you were told more than you let on, it seems.

“Boss.” Jason tilts his head for him to come closer, looking back to the security cameras. “Looks like they haven’t deleted any files for the past week. We can likely see who did this–”

“I know who did this.” Javier huffs, crossing his arms and looking over his shoulder to see who is listening. “Get rid of them.”

Jason’s eyes widen, shaking his head briefly. “What? But we could–”

“If it is a week’s worth then she’ll be on it.” He bites out as quietly as he can manage. “And if we only get rid of her, it will look too suspicious to only have some of it. We have to get rid of it.”

“We could say it got damaged with gunfire, or that he was in the middle of reviewing and deleting–”

“No.” Javier finishes, feeling a throbbing in his head suddenly. Clean up was always the worst part with these raids, and now there were children involved. “All of it, gone. You have at max 30 minutes before Stechner starts rubbing our noses in it, so get it out of sight.”

Jason nods, agreeing that the wrath of Stechner’s connections was not worth throwing a rogue military special unit under the bus.

No matter how badly Javier wanted Frankie to suffer.

The pricklings of jealousy are roiling through him as he takes the stairs down, half expecting you to be standing there waiting for him in defiance. When he doesn’t find you, he takes a deep breath and leans against an open hole in the wall.

His eyes catch on the stacks of money, biting at the inside of his cheek at the temptation. Who would miss this, exactly?

There’s no opportunity, David coming down the stairs with paperwork and Jason following shortly behind him, confirming that everything had been deleted. Javier can feel his phone ringing in his pocket as he starts his trek to his car, the top of your head coming into view.

He looks down, seeing Stechner’s caller-id and silencing his phone automatically. His stride speeds up, launching his door open to see you leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, crying into your hands.

An ache in his chest takes over the frustration as he climbs into the driver’s seat placing a gentle hand on the back of your neck. You jump at the contact, lifting your head to look at him briefly before you try to suppress your tears.

“It’s okay, hermosa.” He coos, pulling your face toward his and pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

You try to suck in air harshly, wiping at your face and shrinking away from him. “This is all my fault.”

Javier isn’t as quick as he would like to say no, debating internally of whether or not to point out things he finds to be true. If you hadn’t stayed an extra day, not answering his phone call and spending it with Frankie, then maybe they would have captured Lorea, maybe they all would be keeping their jobs.

Instead he is silent, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the curve of the back of your neck, sighing. “Let’s go back to the office before we get in any more trouble.”

You’re sitting on Javier’s couch again, dumbstruck and numb.

You were fired, of course.

Being shipped back to Miami by the end of the week is what the ambassador had said. “You’re still welcome to work for the DEA there, but we have no further assignments for you here.”

Javier was the last to enter Noonan’s office, watching each of you get canned in different ways. David was being moved to another division, Jason was being shipped off to California, you were being sent home, and Javier…

You dreaded to think about what would be happening with his position.

He asked you to go to his place, slipping his key to you and brushing past your shoulder without another glance before he was called into Noonan’s office. You weren’t completely sure what Javier would want to say to you in the privacy of your home, and you hoped he understood.

You felt like a fuck up.

His door was pushed open before you had much more time to spiral, his suit jacket off and over his shoulder, his eyes finding yours. “Sorry, it took longer than I thought.”

“What did he say?” You ask quietly, beginning to pick at the skin around your thumbnail.

Javier clocks it, throwing his jacket on the back of a chair and slipping off his shoes at the table. He strides over, giving a soft smile before settling next to you and grabbing for your hands. “He asked what I was thinking, asked if I thought stepping away from the cartels was worth what Lorea potentially had.”

“And?” You were impatient, clasping your hands tighter and worrying your bottom lip.

He shrugs. “I told him I had good intel, said it was worth the risk.” Your eyes can’t help but look over to the duffle bag you dropped by your other bag of belongings. He brings your attention back to him by saying, “Let me come home with you.”

You’re shocked, furrowing your brow and pulling your hands away from his. “What?”

“I quit, and I don’t want to go back to Texas just yet.” He shrugs, almost nonchalantly except you know better-his eyes are telling a different story. The apprehension behind them, the way they watch your facial expressions.

“I-I don’t know if I’m going to go back to Miami or not yet, Javi.” You sigh, looking to the floor. Part of you thinks you need to return to Utica, to hide away for as long as possible and forget about all of this. About the jungle, about Javier, about Frankie.

Javi’s hand brushes against your cheek, subconsciously leaning toward him. “I wouldn’t mind seeing the snow.” He says quietly, smirking before correcting himself. “If you’ll have me.”

Your heart beats faster, tilting into him and smiling. “You wouldn’t even stop in Texas first?”

He shrugs. “Maybe for a week, to let my dad know what is going on but…I would meet you wherever you wanted me to.”

“Why?” The question falls out of your mouth, unable to be stopped. You and Javier had been back and forth, and you weren’t necessarily opposed to this–whatever this was.

It was mostly just complicated.

Javier smiles almost shyly at you, scratching his fingers at the base of your skull. “I care about you.” He says simply, leaning forward and brushing his lips against yours but pulling back before fully committing to the act. His eyes searched yours, asking for permission.

You met him the rest of the way, leaning in to press your lips to his and shutting your eyes tightly. Javier groaned into your mouth, bringing his other hand up to the other side of your face and holding you to him.

He pulls away for a moment, face flushed and his eyes closed. “I don’t just care about you. I just…do you need me like I need you?” He questions, opening his eyes to look into yours.

They’re wide, a dark chocolate brown that you wish you could swim in to forget all your worries, but his question has you unsure. “I don’t know what you mean, Javi.”

He pulls away, clasping your hands in his again and running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “I mean that…if you and I aren’t in the same room, then I’m thinking about you.” You pauses, pressing his lips to one hand and then the other. “If you’re in trouble, then I want to get to you.”

Javier leans back forward, pressing his mouth to yours and letting his tongue swipe briefly around before mumbling against your lips. “And if you’re not the one on top of me then–”

“I get it.” You mumble back, pressing your lips back to his and bringing your fingers up to mess up his curls.

He groans again, his question forgotten as you straddle his thighs and slide a hand under his shirt and up to his chest.

You laugh as he pushes your shirt up, helping you undo your bra and remove everything from the waist up. His lips sear into the skin of your chest, burning into you like a brand.

It’s quick, faster than normal how you both become completely naked and his hands are squeezing at your hips to get you sinking on to his cock. His eyes are rolling back into his head as your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders, riding him slowly and carefully.

He squeezes your hips harder until you yelp, almost in pain, just so that he can hold you up and thrust himself into you instead of having you do the work.

The sweat covering you starts to cool with his breath fanning over you, both of you silent beyond grunts and moans. He’s focused on your center, his thumb snaking to your front to press gently into your clit, his eyes snapping up to watch you orgasm around him.

He follows you over that cliff, letting you collapse into him and his arms wrapping around your back, stroking up and down your spine.

It’s a moment or two before you lean upright, smiling down at him and brushing the fringe off of his forehead. “I think that I need you too.” You whisper, watching the smile spread across his face.

“Yeah?” He asks lightly, pressing a kiss in between your breasts before playfully biting at one nipple.

You laugh again, nodding along with him. “I think I’ll go to Miami to start, though. And you should go to Texas.”

He grumbles, half-heartedly agreeing before mumbling. “Yeah, okay.”

Two weeks later

You’re sitting cross legged in an almost empty apartment in Bogatá, packing up the final bag of your belongings. Another stack of money is being wrapped in a shirt, folded neatly with a pair of jeans as if nothing is wrong with it before being placed carefully into the suitcase.

You had put as much as you could into your bank account without raising suspicions, but the whole thing was nerve wracking to begin with. You phone is ringing incessantly somewhere, and you blindly reach for the last place you left it.

Pressing it to your ear, you answer. “Hello?”

“Hermosa.” Javier says through the speaker, a clear smile in his voice. “You lose your phone again? You need a new one?”

“No, no…” You trail off, looking to the turned off burner phone you had left on your kitchen table. You pick it up, fiddling with it as you pace. “How’s Texas?”

“Oh fine.” He grumbles, shuffling around something before the click of a door reaches your ears. “Wanted to make sure you were on your way to the airport.”

“Just about, the car is on it’s way.” The burner phone comes to life in your hands, the screen a bright blue before it settles and tells an incorrect time. “Everything is basically packed though.”

“Good.” Javier pauses and you can sense his nervousness.

“What is it Javi?” You ask with a small chuckle, crossing your arms.

“Just wanted to make sure it was still okay to fly to Miami in a week?” He asks. You can picture that he is running his hand through his hair right now. “You’ll only have been back a week, and I don’t want to impose–”

“You’re not!” You exclaim. “I’m looking forward to seeing you. Don’t back out on me.”

“Alright, alright.” He laughs, then launching into something his father did the night before and complaining that he is getting called by the Sheriff’s office to become a deputy. “They want me? A retired DEA agent?”

“Well your ass would look great in their uniforms.” You coo, zipping up the suitcase and setting it by the door.

He grumbles, complaining a bit more before finally asking for you to have a good flight, and to let him know when you have landed, even with the time difference.

You make the promise, hearing someone honk at the front door and hanging up quickly before exiting the apartment and tossing the key under the mat.

After loading up your bag and getting comfortable in the back seat, your phone begins to ring again. You groan out loud, looking down to your hand where you are still holding the burner phone and your daily phone, and see that it is not the one you had expected. The number is not one you know, and obviously not saved in the contacts, but your heart begins to beat faster.

The burner rings for a third time before you snap out of wondering who it could be, flipping it open and bringing it to your ear. You listen for a moment, frowning when there is no clear indication of who it could be. “Hello?”

A sigh you’ve heard. “‘You alright?” Frankie gruffs through the speaker, quiet but calm.

“How the hell did you get this number?” You ask just as quietly.

“Remembered a few digits. Sue me.” He bites back, and you feel yourself heating at the thought. Frankie as he looked through your phone to see Javi calling you over and over, also going to the settings to find what the number to the phone was. You’re not sure if the heat is anger or want.

“What the fuck happened?” You launch into questioning him, asking why they had done what they did, trying to not frighten the driver that was pretending to not listen.

“It got all screwed up, and I ended up more broke than before.” He sighs after listening to your rant, your questions drilling into him. You think that maybe he is actually relaxed somewhere, resigned.

You glance down to your purse between your feet, some of the money you had taken in your own wallet. “You didn’t even get any of it?”

“Oh, we got some. Lots, even.” He laughs ruefully. “But it was too much for the helicopter, and Redfly died and–we got enough to get us out of there.”

You hum, slightly disappointed for him. You think briefly that you should tell him you were able to get some of the cash, but then quickly decide against it.

The driver pulls up into the airport temporary parking, popping the trunk and pulling out your bags for you.

“Frankie, I have to go.” You sigh.

“Where?” He scoffs, not believing you.

You roll your eyes, looking around and seeing that driver has already left, and you’re about to be late for security. “I have to get on this flight. Go home.”

“Miami?” He asks, suddenly excited.

“Well, yeah I–”

“Let me pick you up.” He interrupts.

You pause, standing on the sidewalk with the burner pressed to your ear, your other phone in your hand. Finally, after a long moment of silence with Frankie patiently waiting on the other end, you’ve decided.

“My flight lands at 4.” You confirm.

You almost hear him smiling. “I’ll be there.” He says quietly, a silent promise following his words.

You click the phone shut, looking around you briefly before tossing the burner into the nearby trash, stepping toward the entrance to get your bags checked. Frankie could memorize your new number later.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #crossover #frankie morales x reader #htcf

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jamneuromain · 5 days

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Addictive

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x PhD Candidate!Reader (You)

Warning: Sugar Daddy!Santiago Garcia, Implied age gap (Santiago is in his late 30s, reader in her mid-20s), Mention of a near-death experience ... fluff, eventual smut but we'll see about that (and more tags to come)

Summary: The start of an unconventional sugar relationship.

A/N: I solemnly blame @innorogers for indulging me with sugar daddy!Santiago Gargia thoughts. Thank you 太太 you're the best. Mwah😘

Prologue

"What are you going to do with your share?"

"So, what are you going to do with your share?"

It is a question that has come up way too many times in their time spent together. They discussed the possibility of being rich in that shabby pub during the humid and sticky night before the heist. They talked about it again, after the heist, when they nearly lost Redfly on the mountain ridge, nerves on edge with two hundred million on their backs. They ended up splitting the stolen money five ways. Each gets a share, which is forty million US dollars: Tom "Redfly" Davis, William "Ironhead" Miller, Ben Miller, Francisco "Catfish" Morales, and of course, last but not least, himself, Santiago "Pope" Garcia.

Ben got the Ferrari he always wanted. Tom deposited a quarter of his money into the college fund for his girls. William was finally rid of the horrific job of giving the same speech to uniformed men and women, now investing in a gun range. Francisco spends a couple of hours a day in some aviation club, working as a coach. He owns the entire hanger and all the iron birds inside.

Santiago ... Santiago hasn't done anything with his money apart from getting a flat and buying a new car.

So, the question now is specifically targeting him. Now that the five men are watching football from the latest model of a flat-screen TV in Tom's living room.

"What are you going to do with your share, huh Santi?" Frankie repeats with a shit-eating grin.

"Dunno." Santiago takes a sip of his beer, avoiding the scrutinizing gaze of his four closest friends, smoothing his gray strands with his other hand, "I'll figure something out. But enough of me, I heard your Tess wanted to be a doctor?"

There's only one of them who has a family: Tom.

Tom was two inches away from getting shot in the forehead up on the Andes.

Tom chuckles, "That's my bright girl, alright. Takes up after her mom, thank the Lord. Still, the tuition for Pre-med is a bitch. Speaking of, could you pick her up from her AP tutoring at five thirty? It's in a studio near the real estate agency I used to work for. I had other plans for Molly at six."

Ben whistles after one too many beers, "Getting your wife back, nice."

William punches his younger brother Ben in the shoulder.

Tom shakes his head with a small smile, "Can't keep my hopes up though. But Tess - you can pick her up for me, right?" He turns to Santiago for confirmation.

"Sure, bud." Santiago clicks his beer bottle with his former team captain.

Approximately two hours later, you catches his eye when Santiago drives to the tutoring studio to pick up Tess. A pencil in your ear, a load of books in your arms. Your cuffs faded into a lighter shade than the outfit, one of your sleeves resewn, tighter and shorter compared to the other one, the side of your hand smudged in pencil dust, waving Tess goodbye.

"Hey, Uncle Santiago!" Tess pipes up, sliding into the front seat of his sleek black sedan.

"Hey, Tess. Who's that?" Santiago lifts his chin at the girl - you - at the bus stop.

"Oh! That's my tutor for AP Chemistry. She works for this tutoring studio but she's actually a brilliant grad student in the Med School. It's her second year in the PhD program. She works on this really cool project called ..."

As the young teen's voice fades into the background, Santiago pulls his car out from the parking lot. The question that has been haunting him ever since the planning of the heist pops into his mind.

Yeah. He thinks to himself. I'll figure something out.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | ...

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x you #sugar daddy!santiago garcia #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia fluff #oscar issac characters #fem!reader #oscar issac image #triple frontier

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romanarose · 2 years

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Triple Frontier Masterlist

A masterlist for all Triple Frontier fics

Tumblr messed up u links so im slowly trying to fix them! anything in bold SHOULD be goo to go. if i miss anything, let me know! If you really wanna read something and cant find it searching, send and ask and ill try to find it for you

Santiago "Pope" Garcia

Leather and Lace (Completed): While on a mission, Pope, Fish, Benny and Will find a girl tied up in the basement of a drug lord, a victim of trafficking. She won't hardly talk or look at them. Will she learn to trust Santi? Will he be able to help her? ♥️🖤🌶

Match Made in Heaven: Benny and Will play matchmaker with you and Santi. It works.

Full: At a fundraiser, you are all dressed up and Santi can't help himself.

Santi with a Reader on her Period: You wake up with your period unexpectedly. So unexpected, that you have bled all over your boyfriend and his bed, and freak out. Santi tries to make it better.

Gross Reality: A sorta sequel to the last period fic with Santi but this time with the gross gory details of the reality of periods.

Hello Sunshine, Won’t You Stay?: A song fic to a Bruce Springsteen song for @astroboots fantastic series, Homecoming

Honest Mistake (Co written with the wonderful @missdictatorme) : Santi accidentally forgets your birthday, bringing the delta force on one last mission to not let you find out.

If You Wanna Be Wild ft. Javier Peña: Javi and his new partner, a young Santiago Garcia straight out the military, begin to take down Lorea with the help of Candy, a charming and beautiful prostitute.

Please Don't Go?: You are going through an extreme depressive episode, and Santiago is afraid of leaving you alone.

Big Boys Don't Cry: Trans!Santi fucks you with a dildo, has a lot of feelings.

Benjamin "Benny" Miller

Just to be Your Man: You go to a bar with the express intent of hooking up with someone; something you never do. Will Benny Miller be that man?

Puzzle Pieces: You’re Toms girlfriend and honestly, he’s a dick. All the guys know it, all the guys tell him to be better, but Benny always finds a way to make it better himself.

Part one; You try to show off your finished puzzle

Part Two: Tom won’t look at your tomato’s

William "Ironhead" Miller

Temptation: Redfly’s estranged daughter comes back into his life, and this makes things difficult on Will Miller

Lucky: You are having a tough time, but Will is there for you.

He Didn't Have to Be: You and Will hit it off immediately, but being a single mom but a past, you didn't think that he'd be interested in you. You were wrong, and Will asks you on the sweetest date you could imagine.

For the Longest Time (series): Lorelei is suspicious of everyone around her, especially men. She’s jaded, but keeps running into this man and excepts something to be wrong about him… but he only ever treats her with kindness. When she really needs him, he’s there… but that leads to an unexpected turn in her life. Can she learn to trust him and the kind, loving found family he has?

Francisco "Catfish" Morales

Take Your Time (series): Taking place after Leather and Lace (but not necessary to read Leather and Lace before this), Frankie is struggling with his sobriety, and needs his friends and family to rally around him.

Partner in Crime: you have trouble orgasming, but Frankie is there to help you

Cola: Frankie is thirsty, and you’re the perfect drink

Two or More

Awakening Series Masterlist: You find you and Santiago share a mutual fantasy; being shared with his friends

End of the Innocence: Not really a Triple Fontier fic but a fic based off a Triple Frontier fic, do what you must with that. A song Fic for Watch Your Step🖤

Hungry Hearts: You, Will and Santi have some fun, Will and Santi finding a new side of themselves

Benny Miller X Frankie Morales

Boys of Summer: Told over the series of summers, we follow Benny and Frankie as they meet, fall in love, fall apart, and come back together again.

I Won’t Be Afraid Anymore: A sequel to Boys Of Summer. Benny and Frankie figure things out as promised.

Take Care of You: Frankie wraps Ben’s hands before his fight.

Meletonine: FishBen chapter of awakening but can be read seperate. Catfish and Ben finally fall into each other.

Headcanons

TF Boys with a Reader with an ED

Love Langauges: Acts of Service

Love Languages: Physical Touch

Love Languages: Words of Affirmation

Love Languages: Quality Time

Love Languages: Gift Giving

Biggest problems in relationship

Santi with Curly Haired Reader

#Triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago Garcia #Santiago Garcia reader #frankie morales #frankie morales reader #will miller #will miller reader #benjamin miller #benjamin miller reader #ben miller x reader #santiago garcia x reader #franie morales x reader

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ktwritesstuff · 11 months

Text

Nothing Else Matters (a Triple Frontier shifters AU) Chapter 5

Title: Nothing Else Matters Fandom: Triple Frontier Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Reader x Triple Frontier Boys reverse harem style Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: Things with Santiago reach their boiling point.

Content Notes: rough sex, a little d/s with shifter dynamics, etc.

Chapter Five

After three days, Will’s fever finally broke. Arrangements were made to have Tom’s remains cremated and returned to the states. And then there was the matter of the money: five million and change. Split five ways it wasn’t enough to live on even if you spent the rest of your days as misers. To hear that Santiago’s woman got two million of her own left you seething, but still you put on your best dress and got Luna ready to go to the bank with the others to finish the paperwork.

You sat at the back of the room as the accountant explained the processes and fees. Luna cooed and babbled, excited by the novelty of being out of the house for the first time in weeks. At just over seven months of age, she had a few word-like sounds in her lexicon, like ba-ba and da-da, but you were still waiting in eager anticipation for those bona fide first words.

When the time came to sign the contracts, Will asked for his share of the money to be included in the trust for Redfly’s family. You don’t know what you were expecting. Will saw himself as the noble warrior, doing right by his fallen comrade, but still your eyes went dark. Of course, Benny followed his brother’s lead, signing away his share of the money as well.

You rose from your seat, approaching the table to stand beside Frankie, balancing his child on your hip as you leered down at him. He pointedly refused to meet your gaze as he crumpled up his set of paperwork before scrawling his name on the family trust documents. Luna could tell you were upset, pulling at the neck of your dress to try to get to your breasts. You pried her hands away and she whined loudly in protest.

“Are you serious right now?” you moved in front of Frankie as he made his way to the door.

“Don’t,” Frankie warned, stepping around you.

You let him go, returning your attention to Santiago.

“I hope you’re happy,” you said, looking down at him. “You destroyed our lives.”

At the end of the table the accountant cleared her throat, as if reminding you of her presence would persuade you to reconsider the awkward exchange.

If Ironhead were there, he would have torn you a new asshole for challenging Pope in front of an outsider. Whatever disagreement you had with Santiago was pack business.

“Shame on you,” you snapped.

You stormed out of the bank, buckling Luna into her carseat in enraged silence. Frankie started the car and you rode back to the safehouse in the same heavy quiet. You regretted that Frankie was hurting, but you didn’t worry about him. He would come around, he always did. It was Catfish’s nature to blow up then calm down. Things would return to normal until the next cataclysmic event.

More pressing was your realization that Santiago was intent on leaving. Soon. That was the only reason he would insist on imploding your relationship with Frankie before Redfly was even in the ground. He wanted it out in the open before he rendezvoused with his human and her millions.

Parking the car, Frankie tried to come around to take Luna out of the back seat, but you snarled at him, forcing yourself between him and the car door. He backed down, trudging up to the house after the others without another word.

“Come here, baby,” you said, unbuckling Luna and lifting her out of her carseat. “It’s just you and me against the world, isn’t it.”

You felt like your family was falling apart before your eyes. Santiago would leave again, and then what? Will and Benny would be useless without someone to give the orders. Frankie would backslide, God forbid relapse. If Santiago thought he could just implode your family over out of stubborn self-righteousness and disappear back into the desert, he had another thing coming.

You put one hand on Luna’s head and pressed your nose into her baby-fine hair, soothing yourself with her sweet milk and powder smell.

In the house, the boys lingered quietly in the front kitchen, as though the gravity of the past weeks had finally set in. Tom was gone and so was the money. Sooner or later, in all likelihood, some very bad men were going to come looking for it. The person you usually counted on to figure these things out was dead and now there was nothing left but to forge ahead without him.

“Congratulations, boys,” you announced bitterly. “You should all be very proud of yourselves.”

“We got Lorea,” Santiago said, leaning heavily on one of the kitchen chairs.

“Of course,” you mocked. “After years of training, the best shifters in the world managed to achieve their ultimate goal: killing one guy. And let’s not forget the consolation prize, a measly five million dollars.”

“It’s enough to take care of Tom’s girls,” Benny said.

“I am so sick of hearing about Tom’s daughters,” you said. “Hell, even Santiago’s whore got her cut!”

You paced the room in agitation.

“What about my daughter? Who’s looking after her future? Certainly not her deadbeat father—can’t even be trusted to do the one thing he’s good at.”

It was a cruel thing to say, too cruel, and you knew it. Frankie shook his head, but said nothing. It wasn’t him you were trying to provoke anyway.

“You need to remember your place,” Santiago warned you.

“So do you!”

If it were possible, Santiago’s eyes grew darker.

“Frankie, take the baby,” he said coldly.

Frankie looked between you nervously.

“Pope, don’t hurt her,” he said.

You were almost touched; after everything you had said and done, he was worried about you.

“Take the baby,” Santiago ordered, already stripping off his clothes.

You scoffed, handing Luna over to her father.

“Oh please,” you said, turning to face Santiago, you could feel the pressure building in your head as your eyes flashed amber. “I’m not afraid of him–two bad knees and a spinal fusion. Go ahead, if you still have it in you–”

Pope hit you like a freight train, but with Ginger roiling so close to the surface, you had shifted before you hit the ground. In truth, it wasn’t much of a fight. Just enough to keep up appearances. Everyone already knew how it would end. You hadn’t given Santiago much choice. You had openly defied him in front of the pack. It was either mark you or kill you and Pope wasn’t so cruel as to do that to Frankie and Luna.

Ginger submitted as Pope’s jaws clamped down on your shoulder, a careful strike, missing the tender vein in your neck by centimeters. You cried out, shifting back, Pope naked on top of you. He grabbed you by the hair, dragging you toward the bedroom, the others watching in anxious silence as he slammed the door behind you.

Santiago threw you onto the bed, climbing over you. You panted hard, struggling to push yourself up.

“Turn over,” he growled, grabbing you by the waist to flip you onto your back. “You’re going to look at me.”

He pinned both your hands over your head with one of his, taking no time at all to stroke himself to hardness with the other. You shivered in anticipation.

“If you’re going to act like a bitch, I’ll treat you like a bitch.”

Santiago pressed into you all at once without hesitation or preamble. Big enough that you felt yourself tear and whimpered at the stab of pain.

“Is this what you want?” Santiago growled. “You want me to take you like a fucking whore?”

Santiago placed one hand over your throat, fingertips squeezing with expert precision. He barely withdrew from you, just stabbed deeper in. The pain didn’t last, hormones raging, the need to submit to your alpha overriding every other instinct. You moaned, back arching, womb clenching with need.

Santiago’s hands began to roam, groping the soft give of your belly, squeezing your thigh hard enough to bruise. You moved to hold his face–his dark curls plastered to his forehead with exertion–but he caught your hands and pinned them back on the mattress.

“No.”

He lowered his face to yours, snarling with fangs bared, but all the hostility was out of him now, replaced by hunger, desire, yearning. He nuzzled against your face, interlacing his fingers with yours as he rutted into you. The sick squelching of your eager, creaming pussy barely audible over the blood rushing in your ears.

“Take it,” Santiago growled, head bowed toward your breasts. “Take it all. Or I’ll eat you up.”

A lewd sound escaped your lips as he pinched and pulled your nipples to swollen points. The animalic scent of your combined arousal pierced by creamy sweetness as your breasts began to leak.

Santiago took your breasts in his hands, squeezing hard, milk spilling between his fingers.

“Mine,” he proclaimed, the word a barely intelligible snarl. “These are mine. You’re mine.”

You whimpered, squeezing your eyes closed as he sank his teeth into the flesh of your left breast, sealing his mouth over the sensitive nipple, drinking from you as his pelvis ground into the soft pad of your mound, his back arching.

Santiago was too lost in his own desire to protest as you moved again. Sliding one hand down his back, drawing him toward you as the snug muscles of your inner walls tightened around him with your climax. As you moaned, he caught your mouth in a harsh, possessive kiss, his lips still tasting of milk and blood.

Santiago shuddered with his release, the hard pulse of semen filling you up as the head of his cock swelled inside your already impossibly stretched pussy. You cried out, quivering with relief as spurt after spurt of hot cum surged against the mouth of your womb.

Santiago relaxed into you as he finally emptied himself inside you. He had never been like this with you before: forceful, demanding. But somehow you knew, he had always had it in him. You felt a sudden pang of gratitude that he had finally let down his guard for you.

“Thank you, Alpha,” you murmured, combing your fingers through his hair as he rested his head between your breasts. “Thank you.”

Pope slept for close to an hour as you rested beneath him, enjoying the pleasant surge endorphins. He stirred slowly, his weight shifting over you as he eased himself out from under the covers. His eyes fell on the dried bloodstains on the sheets twisted between your legs.

“I hurt you,” he said quietly.

You hummed softly, sitting up in bed.

“I earned it.”

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper,” Santiago said.

He went to your medkit on the dresser, cracking open an instant ice pack to tuck between your legs. The cold felt nice against your swollen heat.

He doused a clean gauze pad in antiseptic wash and brushed the hair away from your neck to blot at the bite mark on your shoulder, although it had long-since stopped bleeding.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you assured him, your eyes cast down in submission.

“What do you need?” Santiago fretted, the gravity of what he had done sinking in.

Not even Redfly had dared to give you a claim mark–a scar that could been a death blow–a sign for all to see that you were alive by his grace alone. To abandon you after that would be considered a cardinal sin among wolves, and above all else, Santiago needed to see himself as the hero.

“Water would be lovely,” you cleared your throat. “Please, Alpha.”

Santiago poured you a glass from the pitcher on the dresser and waited patiently at the bedside while you drank to take the glass from you when you were finished.

“What else?” he asked.

“Luna needs to be fed soon,” you said.

“Of course. I'll bring her to you,” Santiago agreed, sticking his head out the bedroom door where the others were still gathered in your laughably small living area, pretending they hadn’t heard what had just gone on behind closed doors.

“Fish, Ginger needs to nurse the baby. I can take her.”

“No, I got it,” Frankie insisted, pushing past Santiago in the doorway with Luna in his arms.

Santiago arranged the pillows comfortably around you, placing the densest one in your lap to support the baby. You brought Luna to your breast and she latch eagerly.

“She’s got a good appetite,” Santiago remarked, stroking her little foot.

“We haven’t had any problems,” you agreed. “It’s been a blessing.”

It had been a hard birth–complicated somewhat by your insistence on laboring at home–everything after had seemed like smooth sailing in comparison.

“Are you hungry?” Santiago asked. “I can bring you something.”

“There’s leftover soup in the fridge,” you said. “It just needs to be heated up.”

“I’ll get it ready,” Santiago agreed.

As Santiago rushed off, Frankie paced the room anxiously.

“Please try to relax,” you said, supporting Luna with one arm as you beckoned him to you with the other. “You’re making me nervous. Just sit down.”

“Sit down,” he repeated, lifting his cap to tousle his hair before replacing it, slightly off-kilter. “Where my best friend just fucked the mother of my child?”

“Don’t say it like that,” you said. “You make it sound obscene.”

“How do you want me to say it?” Frankie asked.

“Come here,” you pleaded. “Just come here.”

Frankie took a careful seat on the bed beside you, placing a hand on Luna’s head as you took his chin in your hand.

“I love you, Francisco,” you said. “I chose you. And I chose Pope. You knew that it was never going to be just one. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“I know,” Frankie sighed, his large dark eyes wet and shining. “I just wish you hadn’t done that.”

As much as you assured him that you didn’t care if he took other partners, that you wanted him to explore those parts of himself, Frankie insisted he only wanted you. You suspected he was still holding out hope that you would marry him one day, but now that hope was marred by knowing he could only have you if Pope allowed it.

“I did what I had to do,” you said. “He was going to leave us. I wasn’t going to stand back and let it happen. I’m sorry you’re upset, but I won’t be held hostage by shitty ultimatums. I love you.”

“I know,” Frankie nodded, placing one hand on the back of your neck, bowing his head toward yours. “I love you, too.”

Santiago returned, a warm bowl in hand, and took a seat on the other side of you to offer you spoonfuls of barley and broth.

“You’ll have to tell me if it’s warm enough,” he said.

“It’s good,” you nodded wrapping your lips around the spoon to mask your smile. “Is there enough for the others?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Santiago assured you. “You just rest. I can take the baby for a bit, if you need a break.”

“I’m fine,” Frankie said, leaning into you possessively.

“Fish,” you warned, touching his face lightly. “Let Santi help. You could use a few solid hours of shuteye. These bags are out of control.”

“Then it’s settled,” Santiago agreed, setting your dishes aside. “I will spend some quality time with my beautiful goddaughter and you two will get some sleep.”

Santiago lifted Luna from your arms, her body pliant and relaxed in her milk-drunk state, as he lifted her to his shoulder to rub her back soothingly.

“Sleep,” Santiago repeated, uncharacteristically light-hearted as he carried Luna from the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

“You need to undress,” you instructed, reaching for the buttons on Frankie’s shirt.

“It smells like blood,” he protested, reaching to stop your hands.

You pulled him closer, stroking his face and combing your fingers through his hair. Frankie whimpered like a frightened pup, fists balled and muscles taught.

“It’s fine, Frankie, you’re exhausted. Just lay down.”

None of the boys had truly recovered from their misadventure, and while Will was still healing from physical wounds, Frankie hadn’t had much opportunity to recover from the psychological trauma between waking up for late-night feedings and diaper changes.

“Luna is safe. I am safe. Relax.”

It took some cajoling, but you finally convinced Frankie to take off his clothes and settle down beside you in bed. He climbed under the covers and turned onto his side. Certainly the sheets could use a good wash, but that could wait until after some much-needed sleep. You rolled over to press your front against his back, hitching your top leg over his hip and drawing him close.

“This is nice,” you reminded him, slinking an arm around him, resting your hand on his chest. He entwined his fingers with yours and nodded.

You breathed slowly, consciously, your breasts pressing into his back and soon you felt his breath grow deeper and more even, the wings of his heart pressing back into you with each rise and fall.

Baby's First Taglist: @hiroikegawa

#triple frontier fic #shifters au #reverse harem #reader x frankie 'catfish' morales #reader x santiago 'pope' garcia #reader x will 'ironhead' miller #reader x benny miller #pedro pascal #oscar isaac #charlie hunnam #garrett hedlund

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intheorangebedroom · 2 years

Text

Run Through The Jungle

Summary: You didn't want to take this mission, but your best friend and closest teammate talked you into it. Just how far are you prepared to go to prove him this was a bad idea… and what could you possibly gain from doing so?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader. Reader has a code name, "Echo".

Rating: Mature 🔞

TW: mention of blood, gun violence.

A/N: Hey @flightlessangelwings, your @pedrostories Secret Santa, here! I worked with your hurt/comfort prompt followed by a ✨confession✨, with our darling Frankie. I hope you like it, I did my very best 💝 I wish you a happy reading!

Word Count: 3.4k

He knows something’s wrong when the shot echoes through the canopy, followed by silence. He stops short in his tracks, a feeling of dread sinking in his gut, cold sweat breaking on his back, on his forehead. It goes against the direct order he just received, but he can’t help himself, his hand flying to the radio button before he even has time to think about it.

“Echo? Echo come in.”

He doesn’t recognise his own voice. Parched, hoarse, like sandpaper.

“Echo?” he tries louder, which only brings out the desperation in his tone and sends a flock of exotic birds upward.

“I don’t think it was her, Fish,” Ironhead’s voice comes in, much firmer than his own, but the concern in it is still tangible.

“Relax, men, I’m sure she’s fine,” Benny quips, but his apparent levity only thrums harder on Frankie’s nerves.

“Keep the radio clear, guys, she’ll call in when she can,” Redfly silences them all.

Frankie starts walking again, progressing deeper into the jungle, the vegetation so dense that he can’t see the sky, and all he can breathe is humidity, clamping his lungs. It’s dusk, and the world around him is dark blue and murky green. The press of his cheek against the cold metal of his riffle grounds him, he’s thankful for it, it offers a welcome balance to the shakiness of his trigger finger, ready to flex.

On his left, he feels Benny more than he can see him. Ironhead on his far right, a barely there rustle through the palms and long, invasive leaves. It’s uncanny the way Will can move his mass without any noise, like a ghost. He’s lost Pope a while ago, when he tried to keep up with you as you marched headstrong into the wall of foliage, but he assumes he’s somewhere behind, Redfly next to him, the two men strictly sticking to the plan.

They’ve been advancing for more than fifteen minutes, now, the target still not in sight, when it should have been hit on the ten-minute mark. At least that’s what Redfly had said. Ten minutes in from the trail, a small, square wooden house filled to the brim with gun trafficking kingpins conveniently gathered there to strike a peace deal. Rounded up by a shady and nameless intel cell, for your unit to harvest and sprinkle with lead. And fade back into the green, invisible, unnamed, unheard, like you were never there. It’s not an official job. It’s mercenary work. It pays as well as the stakes are high. Frankie knows you hate those.

You didn’t want to come. You didn’t want to take this mission. You clearly stated your view on the matter, blunt and loud and from the beginning. Said it was one of Pope’s rotten plans, that he’d made a deal with god knows who, and you did not like that, you needed more intel, that it wouldn’t end well, but then Redfly had spoken, and everyone else had fallen in line, so he’d convinced you.

Him. Frankie.

And he hadn’t been very subtle or gentle about it. “Don’t overthink it, Echo. It’s just an in and out. You fuck up the whole team if you turn it down. Redfly said it’s a six men job.” You’d scoff. “Yeah well, I’m not a fucking man, Fish”, and you’d left. You barely talked to him after that. Your last words to him before stepping on the humid, soft ground of the forest were curt and cold, “I have a bad feeling about this.” Your frowned brow imprinted with a reproach.

He could have told you the team wasn’t operational without you, incomplete, flawed. He could have said they needed you, that you were essential, like water and air. But that would have been a little too transparent for comfort. You’re so perceptive. Razor sharp. You would have seen right through him.

Beside, he’s made a point so far of never treating you differently from the rest of the team. He knows what you had to overcome to get here. He respects you and your skills far too much. But then, perhaps he’d been wrong. Perhaps he should have acknowledged your differences. Openly praise you for it.

I’m not a fucking man, Fish.

Of that he’s well aware.

And so you walked in first. Probably just to prove a point, if he had to guess. Rapidly swallowed by shadows, green and dirt. You didn’t give him a chance to cover you, like he usually does. You work in tandem, you know each other’s every move, every sigh, every frown. But not today, today you ran from him, and he lost sight of you. Something he hates above all.

He doesn’t know fear. He’s got proven ways to keep it in check, it’s part of the job, part of him at this point. He saw you take a bullet, held you down while Will extracted it from you, bandaged your bruises and cuts, just like you did his. But this time’s different. This time, he can’t see you. And the last reproachful look you sent his way before you disappeared is blurring his logic, crowding his brain.

The tac vest feels too tight, all of a sudden, like his chest has expanded, and the straps of his kit are biting through the flesh of his shoulders, the sweat dripping from his sideburns an unbearable tingle.

He quickly glances at his watch. The timer tells him they’ve been in for twenty minutes. He estimates ten have passed since the shot rang. You could have found the house. On the ten minutes mark, like Redfly said. But you would have called your shot and anyway, that would have unleashed hell. Pope estimated the number of men patrolling the close perimeter at thirty. You might be mad at him, but you wouldn’t voluntarily endanger any of them. The only possible explanation is—

“Anybody got a visual on her?” Pope asks.

Frankie listens as his teammates’ voices come in in turn, with the same grim, negative answer. There’s a beat before Pope asks again, “Fish, you got a visual, man?”

“Fuck it, I’m going to get her,” Frankie replies through gritted teeth, lengthening his strides.

“Fish, you stay in line, stick to the plan,” Redfly’s order resounds through the radio, but Frankie’s already reaching a clearing, sensing Benny speeding up on his left, trying to catch up with him.

If anything happened to you… If anything happened to you he’s gonna set that fucking jungle ablaze.

—

The left side of your face hurts. Hurts worse than your worst hangover. As your brain slowly resurfaces, you take in your surroundings. Your right cheek on the rough wooden floor on which you’re lying, legs folded behind you. The rancid taste of the piece of clothe gagging your mouth. Dim light, dirty walls. Hushed conversations you can’t make out in a foreign language you know nothing of. Your hands tied up in front of you, the plastic binder cutting your wrist.

Something warm and thick is trickling down your brow and into your eye, a sharp and blinding sting that you vainly try to blink away. Blood. Ok. So that explains the pain.

Your kit’s gone, and so is your tac vest, your riffle, guns and other weapons. Panic flares in your veins. You’ve been shot, cut, wounded– but never taken. You have no idea how long you’ve been out. And what happened in the meantime. You walked into the clearing, your rifle raised and at the ready, you felt the metal brush of a blade near your neck, slicing the radio cord in one furtive motion, a shot rang out… and then everything went black.

Where’s the rest of the team? Fish and Ironhead were right behind you, you know they probably couldn’t see you but you could feel them, feel him, you always do, at a skin level. What the fuck were you thinking, stepping out of line, not following the plan? You were going to make a point and prove Fish wrong, but what point, exactly? What did you get so angry about?

You disagreed on the job, big deal. You know, deep down, it’s not about that.

It’s a six men job.

Why did it sting so hard? Fish is your closest friend in a team of men you all trust with your life, his conduct toward you permanently above reproach. How many times have you fell asleep curled up against him on a cold hard floor, only to wake up shielded by his heat, but, consistently, from a respectable distance?

Precisely. Way down in your soul, in your bones, you wanted to believe your instinctual synchronicity on the field spoke of a deeper connection. Have you waited all these years for it to become more? For him to act on it? Will he ever? Does he even think of you like this?

It’s a six men job.

I’m not a man, Fish.

Fuck. You got mad over the shadow of a feeling, over swirling smoke. And now your foolishness might have gotten them all killed.

Your mind spirals at the thought and you clench your eyes shut to push it away. This can’t be, they’re probably coming to get you, Frankie is coming to get you, he’ll find a way, he always comes through.

Frankie. Fast building tears gather behind your eyelids at the memory of the cold, angry stare he sent your way when you started advancing. You’d give everything to see his stupid pretty face right now.

Your shoulder hurts, crushed against the hard floor, sweat dripping down your back as you try to push back invasive thoughts. It was supposed to be a stealthy attack, this was the cornerstone of Pope’s plan, but now the targets are well aware of your presence, and likely getting ready to welcome your teammates. If they’re still alive, that is.

You don’t know how much time has passed. They might all be lying dead, blood flowing out of their bodies into the mud of this godforsaken jungle, as you’re trapped here, awaiting the same fate. Or worse.

Ok, focus, you’ve been trained for these kinds of situations, you’re a warrior. The light coming in from the small window on your right looks about the same as it did before you were knocked out, so you can’t have been out for too long. The surrounding room is small, square, and bare. You have to assume this is the target house. To which you don’t even know the floor plan, because Pope failed to provide the team with that piece of intel.

You make an attempt at wiggling your legs, testing how much leeway you’ve got. Not much. Your ankles, like your wrists, are bound, and you’re not sure if you can even sit up straight.

You feel the floor vibrating under your face as heavy steps approach, two men, maybe three, you estimate. Their voices louder when they speak, as they probably stand on the other side of the door, and you shut your eyes again, stalling for an issue, an idea, a miracle, when you hear the first shots fired outside in the near distance.

They come in rapid sequence, three by three, almost like a waltz, each salve getting closer to you, and if it wasn’t for the sudden commotion inside the house, you’re pretty sure you’d hear the thud of the bodies hitting the mucky ground.

They’re coming to get you, death in their stride.

You try harder to lift yourself up, ignoring the throbbing ache pounding your forehead, when someone kicks the door open. A stubby man in a loud shirt, a golden gun in his hand, covering the distance between you in a few hurried steps. He grabs you by the elbow and violently shoves you upward and against the wall, sputtering more than screaming in your face. You don’t understand the language, but you don’t need to, you know you’re about to become one of the human shields you’ve so often aimed at with your weapon.

And then it’s here. Before you have time to consider your options, or initiate your next move. Frankie’s voice, rambling and furious, instructing you to “Dive!”

You buck your knees without thinking and slide onto the floor as the content of you captor’s head is splattered on the wall above you. His limp body doesn’t have the time to hit you, Frankie catching it mid-fall and tossing it to the side as if he weighted no more than a paper doll.

Outside the room, it’s pandemonium, gunfire, men yelling, broken glass, but you don’t hear any of it, you only hear him, his heavy, short breathing, the rustling of his dirty clothes as he’s kneeling in front of you, freeing your mouth, cutting the plastic straps that bind your ankles and your wrists, cupping your face with both hands, lifting your chin up, scanning you for injuries, and his eyes, his eyes they’re not cold anymore.

“Are you hurt?” his voice sounds broken now, gone, as if all of it had been projected out of his body when he yelled for you to get down, as if he doesn’t have any left.

“Echo, baby, talk to me, you hurt? What’s that blood, is it yours?”

You’re lost in the sight of his anguished face, you don’t understand what’s happening, only his hands on your skin, brushing away tears you didn’t know were spilling, only his eyes alight with that particular glimmer, the one they shine with when he thinks you’re not looking, only the strength and tension and heat rolling off of him and pouring straight into you, through every fiber of your skin, of your being, and you stutter his name, like the little girl you had forgotten you ever were.

“I’m here, you’re ok, we’re here. You hurt? I need you to tell me if you’re hurt.”

Ironhead’s slow drawl rings out from behind the wall, a loud and forceful “Clear!” that echoes in Frankie’s earpiece, and his brother’s answer, “All clear over here.”

Pope bursts in, his tone tenser than you’ve ever heard it, “Is she here? Is she ok?”

They came through. They came to get you. Frankie’s heat is bringing the life back to your limbs, and you sit up straighter, raising your chin, gathering your wits, before you answer, “I’m fine, I’m ok, just the cut, here.”

Frankie tilts your head down to get a better look at your hairline. His hands leave your face and you whimper imperceptibly at the loss. He rips a piece of his shirt and uses it to wipe the blood from your brow so he can get a better look at your wound.

“It bleeds a lot but it looks superficial, did you lose conscious?”

Both Millers step into the room and you suddenly feel too self-conscious, discomfort crawling up your skin like raging ants, you don’t want them to see you in this position, they’ve never heard you complain once, but you sure gave them hell every time they did, especially Benny, so you push Frankie’s hand away and try to stand up on wobbly legs, with a grunt of, “I’m fine, I’m not a fucking porcelain doll, get off me.”

“Alright, she’s fine,” Benny says in a laugh, “let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Tom is the last one to step into the room, asking Pope if all the targets are down. He barely acknowledges you, or your potential injuries, you note, and you’re not sure what to make of it, you did disobey his orders and ignore his plan, after all. He most likely will never let you forget that.

So you stand taller and take a step, but your balance fails you, you vacillate a little, enough for Frankie’s firm hand to fly to your waist to steady you. A different kind of heat blooms into your lower belly at the commanding hold he’s got on you, and you will yourself to regain some semblance of composure. You’re a fucking soldier, for fuck’s sake.

“Need my rifle. And my gun,” you say, “they took them from me, I need something. I’m not getting out into that fucking jungle naked.”

Frankie’s eyes shine bright with a mischievous glimmer when he looks straight at you, a snarl tugging at the corner of his lips. Bending down, he unclenches the dead man’s grip on the golden gun and hands it to you.

“You can have this one,” he husks.

“Alright guys, let’s go,” Tom orders, and they all leave the room in a row.

You’re about to follow when Frankie turns around to face you again, crowding you into the wall until you hit the wooden panel with a surprised gasp. He's pressing his body against yours, his tac gear biting into your breast, a large hand at the base of your neck, thumbing the dip between your collarbone, the other one bruising your hip, his forehead against yours.

Your brain fills up with white noise, but your body, your body has always known. You arch up into him, your hands gripping his forearms to anchor you when he starts talking, rumbling into your mouth like a man with a fever, his low voice dripping down your sweaty skin and reverberating into your core.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again, you hear me? I thought I lost you, you stubborn– you– I can’t fucking do this without you, you hear me? I need you.”

“Guys, we’re out!” Tom shouts from the front of the house.

—

The hike back to the location where the two trucks are hidden is nothing like you’ve ever experienced. Four pairs of eyes darted on you, and on a normal day you’d smacked them all, but not today, today everything feels different.

Fear, is what you experienced. Disorientation. Years of training and practice that couldn’t help you.

Your gaze strained on Tom’s back, you walk in his literal steps, avoiding deep muddy puddles and rocks, anything that could unbalance you further. On your right, Ben and Will advance together as one man, Santi on your left, and directly behind you, Frankie, so close you can almost feel his warm breath graze your skin.

His words are swirling in your head. He tipped you off your axis. Breathed his confession inside you, one you’re not ready to acknowledge. But one you’re not willing to ignore or forget.

Benny’s the first to reach the vehicles and clear the giant palm leaves you used to hide them from sight. He gets behind the wheel, Tom sitting next to him, and Will in the back.

You walk over to the second truck, the one you came in, but you don’t think you can face the road, so you climb in the back. Frankie mutters something to Santi, you can’t make out the words, but you understand when he goes around and to the driver’s seat, while Frankie gets in next to you.

“What do you think you’re doing, Morales?” you try, but your body says different, and you slide on the bench to accommodate his large frame, to welcome his heat. He looks at you, a grin etched on his lips. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, his arm circling your shoulder as he pulls you in a tight embrace.

The drive is bumpy on the uneven trail and he presses his lips against your temple, covered in sweat and dirt and blood. His grip on you is nearly primal, it steadies you, and this, this is your axis.

“I fucked up, Frankie,” you whisper, “I'm sorry, I thought I got you killed and–” the words die in your throat.

“That would hardly stop me, you know,” he chuckles with a hint of sadness. “Don't be sorry, you were right all along. But I’m not wasting any more time, I’m gonna make sure you never want to run off on me again.”

Santi darts a look in the rearview mirror, but you can’t see his knowing smirk, you're drowning in Frankie’s low voice, like a bee trapped in thick syrup, your hand tugging at his vest, pulling him closer with a needy moan, seeking his plush lips with yours.

“You guys know I can hear you, right?” Santi grins.

“You’re gonna hear much worse when we get to the safe house,” Frankie answers before he locks his lips on yours.

****

#FlightlessAngelWings #Pedrostoriesgift22 #Pedrostories #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fic

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toxicanonymity · 2 years

Text

masterlist

She/her. FAQ

WARNINGS: NSFW I8+ only 🔞. f!Reader unless otherwise noted. Writing may contain dubious consent (dubcon), non-consensual (noncon), unsafe sex, violence, and more. Read fic warnings.

TAG: Toxicanonymity ☠️.

Pedro Pascal characters masterlist

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Masked ghostface unless otherwise specified.

⭐ Every inch (series)

fight flight or fuck blurb

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Road house - scream AU (Dalton x reader)

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harryleatherfit · 1 year

Text

Entergalatic🍸

Frankie Morales Oneshot x F!Reader || 5.1 k

you’re a law school student and you just recently moved to a new neighborhood, you happen to be neighbors with frankie morales. he comes around sometimes to help fix things, but tonight you’re at the same bar, under a beautiful night in miami.

warnings: any themes in triple frontier, mention of NA, mentions of using coke, mentions of substance abuse, choking, overstimulation, squirting, cum play, unprotected p in v, oral f! receiving, pearl necklace, alcohol consumption, mentions of masturbation, mentions of creampie (WEAR A CONDOM PLS)

lmk if i’ve missed anymore thx

ONE-SHOT PLAYLIST

Disco Tits- Tove Lo

Entergalatic- Kid Cudi

Replay- Dorian Electra Remix Lady Gaga

🪩Main Master List🪩

Frankie had suggested that he and the guys should go to the bar for a night of distress. They were all on edge for their trip to Columbia, after a long night of elongating their plan, they would all start to bicker. Never getting a second to spare for themselves, never getting a moment to slip away and forget their responsibilities, plus their past lives.

Redfly, Benny, Ironhead and Fish himself were putting everything on the line for Pope. He was fucking his informant, and he was letting his feelings get in the way for his line of work. Per usual of Santi.

Fish was bored, he had nothing to lose anymore. He was tired of chasing after the military and wasting his life away trying to get his flying license back. He was done with the fucking coke, done using and wasting his life away.

But he was hungry for more. Feral like a bear to have his life back. He wanted to settle down, start a life of his own. Run away and become somebody that he didn’t recognize. He wanted love. He wanted to be loved, but could he reciprocate that love? He’s broken and always has been.

Out of the whole group, he felt like he was the least to find love, his life was fucked the most, and after finishing his NA meetings, he felt whole as a person. For so long he was trying to push help away but it worked on him somehow. He wanted himself back.

They were walking in the Miami heat, turning down a busy street downtown, it was fucking crazy full at this hour, people from all walks of life filling every crevice of the road. Was it some holiday?

They peered into a club that was full to the brim. A dance floor, live music, a bar to drink at. Frankie couldn’t have asked for more.

They get past the bouncer, finding a corner near the back of the bar, hunkering down their space in the midst of all the chaos. It reeked of sex and alcohol. Gotta fucking love Miami, he thought.

He appreciated the small things, this crowd was beautiful and dressed so vibrantly, the dark sky with the full moon was gorgeous, and the music was floating inside his ears. Every second that passes his heart jumps for more.

He flags down the bartender, “I’ll get uh Whiskey Sour, you guys know what you want?”

They order their drinks and settle in their chairs.

An idea sparks in Frankies head, “Benny, how much money to go up to a random pretty girl and start dancin with her?”

“You’re fuckin crazy, you tryin to start some game topshot?” He barks back.

“Nah, tryin to see how far you’ll go for pussy.” He huffs under his breath, chasing it with another whiskey.

“Very fucking funny Fish, if thats what you want.”

Benny gets up, setting his jacket down, and he dove into the crowd of dancing people.

It’ll be a fun night for the pretty boy, Fish laughed.

“Hey, you guys know it’s a college night here. I think for Miami college that’s why it's so full. I don’t know if you’ll find much to do here.” The Bartender shouts over the music.

College night. Would you be here?

He glances over at the crowd, looking between every body. Searching.

“You’ve got plan s’to Fish?” Pope slurs.

“Maybe.” He can feel the pump of his heart quicken.

And finally he sees you, the sun in the room.

You were wearing this gorgeous orange sundress with golden flakes spread across the bottom, complimenting your skin tone. The top half caressing you, not only hugging you in every crevice but revealing your tattoos. He had only ever seen your tattoos when you ran in the neighborhood.

You had recently moved in next to him for the school year. You were living alone, after a long partying phase for your earlier years of college. You were in law school right now, and you had to focus.

You had met your neighbor. Ran into him a couple times around town, seeing each outside your houses, he would see you wash your car, you would drool over him through your window when you saw him cleaning his motorcycle.

There were a few times you were having house troubles, and you would saunter over, hoping he was able to help you. You didn’t exactly have thousands of dollars to pay someone to fix tiny things about your house.

When he would come over, he was always so polite, so gentle and kind to you. As you would immediately open the door, the brightest smile would wave across his face, the dimples in his cheeks deeplining into his face. The lines next to eyes, the deep furrow of his eyebrows, the strong curve of his nose. His strong, bulky arms. His fucking arms. The curve of his stomach, never failing to peek through his shirt. You screamed yourself to sleep, rubbing the ache away in your heated core, your clit craved his fingers.

He would always pick up his hat, and run his hands through his thick, dark hair. But when he would walk through the entrance of your house, you would have butterflies. You couldn’t calm yourself, and you would always be so hyper aware around him. He could never be attracted to you, you couldn’t have been his type, and you were so self conscious all the time. Being a young girl in college can really mess with your head.

You couldn’t guess how much older he was than you, you weren’t sure if he was in a relationship, so you decided to keep your distance. You didn’t want to get in the way of his peaceful life.

But from afar, you looked so happy on the dance floor. Frankie was studying your every single move. Your hair swishes, you pull strands back to relieve your face. Sweat collects all over your neck from dancing, watching the rise and fall of your chest. He watched the fast motion of your head falling back with the music, your friends crowding around you, giggling in the air.

You were so radiant, desirable, and happy.

You spotted him immediately when he walked in with his friends. Your friends immediately called dibs on all of them except for Frankie, so ironic, how could no one want a man as fucking hot as him?

You were hoping he would see you, pull you away, and wish your woes away just for one night.

But you didn’t have the courage to go up to him, you felt so small compared to him. How could you mean anything to him?

And finally you trust yourself enough to make eye contact with him. He’s already looking you up and down, sliding the last of his drink down. He looked like a lion, ready to lunge across a meadow to claim what's his.

He was wearing his usual trucker hat, his locks peeking beneath the sides. A black leather jacket, stretching across his body, unzipped. He was wearing a low cut white undershirt with a v line, for you could see his exposed happy trail. And his last addition, gold chains on his neck and wrists.

Usually guys your age tried to wear chains to make them more appealing, to lure girls into bed and get their cock sucked and go, but Frankie wearing this chain wasn’t just that. This was his flaunt, his teasing. You knew he had money, but not sure how much he had.

“Hey, what’s all this eye fucking with they guy over there, he’s looking at you like he’s gonna eat you for a meal.” Your friend Lexie yells into your ear.

“The night is still young Lexie,” You brace your hands on her shoulders, “Let him look at me.” You purr into her ear.

Immediately something ticked in Frankies brain, he needed your hands around him. He needed to be with you, alone.

“Fish, what's gotten you so quiet?” Ironhead pats him on the shoulder, “You’re practically drooling over the damn floor on the edge of your seat.”

“My neighbor, she’s here.” He chokes.

“That college girl you were tellin us about, yeah? The one with the house troubles.” Pope asks. “You thinkin anything could come out of it?”

“I don’t know, possibly. She’s a fuckin sweetheart. She gets all shaky when I come over.”

“That’s a sign man, go gettem.” Redfly claps his shoulder.

“Not after another fuckin drink.” He needed to be intoxicated enough to not be different around you, he wanted to be himself around you.

He shoots it down, getting up and receiving cheers from the boys. He couldn’t handle them anymore, he needed you.

When he gets up, the pain in your lower abdomen soothes, you could feel the gravitational pull enclosing.

He makes his way through the crowd, weaving through the bodies, making the most blood curdling eye contact with you, you break free from your friends.

“I didn’t think I would ever find you at a bar, Mr. Morales.” You smirk.

That name you always used, insisted, made his cock twitch in the tight cloth of his jeans.

“Please, call me Frankie.” You laugh and roll your eyes, with all the people on the dance floor, you two are enclosed. In your little bubble away from the loud world.

You had a tumbler full of Vodka in your hand, you took a swig of it and offered it to him.

“No I’m okay darlin, don’t want too much tonight.” He stares at you while you take another drink.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Morales.” Winking at him, edging him on. The intoxication from the alcohol makes you feel so free you can say anything around him. He moves closer to you, finding your ear to whisper in, “I know what you’re doing pretty girl, usin that name.” He whispers.

A song change, some Kid Cudi song and the crowd raised havoc, but nothing changed between you two. You were closer than ever, practically hugging each other so when you spoke you could hear each other.

“Look at you, wearing this perfect dress, your hair tied up, your tattoos peakin out.”

“You like what you see?” You ask. This is it.

“Do I like what I see? I always have darlin,” He finds your hand and kisses your wrist, “Don’t be shy on me now.”

You put your hands around his neck and dance to the beat of the song. Entergalactic.

His hands were roaming around on your back, and you could feel the tight cold leather against your chest, making your nipples harden.

You flipped around so his chest could be against your back, and his hands were touching your torso. Up and down.

You decided to swirl your ass against his lower half, falling down to the ground and getting back up, letting loose with the music. He twirled you around a few times, getting in rhythm with your body.

You feel the metal of his belt, only a thin layer of fabric on your body separating you from him.

You could feel growth expanding on your ass, you wanted more.

“You little minx, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” His eyes peering into your soul.

“I know exactly what I’m getting myself into Francisco.” You purr.

Not only did Frankie snarl, but the animal inside him snapped. He needed you now.

“Hm, need another drink?” He grabs your hand, pulling you off the dance floor.

Immediately you feel the slick pooling down your leg.

You didn’t care about your friends calling after you, and you didn’t care about anything that's happening right now. You needed Frankie immediately.

Frankie walks back with a water bottle in hand, smart man.

“Walk with me gorgeous.”

You follow him, he found a secluded hallway across the bathroom, behind the ruckus of the club, no one to be seen in sight.

“What could someone like you, be here at a club at this hour?” He asks, in a pitch you couldn’t even register.

“I tagged along with my friends, I was bored at home. Nothing to study, no one to screw.”

He chuckles, “No one to fuck, huh?” The heat between you both ticks up a thousand degrees, “And how do you like to be fucked angel?”

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” You repeat.

The world comes crashing down when he shoves his lips onto yours. Moving so quickly you don’t know where you are in space and time. All you can smell is him, all you can feel is him.

In between breaths, “I like to be fucked rough and hard.” You reach your hand down to his cock, “I want to be fucked so hard I can’t think.”

With those words, he can’t hold back anymore, he picks you up. Pulling your legs around his waist, carrying you into the bathroom. Messily locking the door behind him. He slams you down onto the counter and grabs your face, pulling your lips in. His tongue invades your mouth. Never leaving and exploring you as a whole.

Your legs wrap around him again, the sting in your pussy hurting so bad. You needed relief. He withdrew from your lips and started to lap at your throat. You were half-lidded, barely being able to see what was going on. The ecstasy of oxytocin firing off in your brain. You couldn’t comprehend words, let alone understand that Frankie Morales was anchored to you right now.

Your skin was so soft, you melted under Frankies touch. He was sucking so hard on your neck you knew it would bruise so heavily but you didn’t care. You were his for the night. The whole world could know that. His fucking slut.

He trailed down your throat, shoving his hands under your dress finding your bare hard nipples.

“You poor thing, pretty slut not getting her fucking in for the night.” He mutters under his breath.

The pleasure you felt from his thick heavy fingers under your dress added to your fire.

He pushed the straps of your dress past your shoulders exposing your tits. He attacks each nipple, swirling one in his mouth and pinching the other. He popped off, blowing air on it. This makes you squirm, throwing your head back to the turbulent feeling.

He pushes your dress past your legs, all the fabric meeting at your stomach.

He stances wider, opening your legs wider. He grazed his hands over your covered mound, teasing you. You were laying on your elbows, looking down at his bulge, the swell of his belly meeting your core. His body fit yours so earth shatteringly.

“All wrapped up for me, sweet thing. So pretty and perfect. You wear lace every night?”

“On nights, I know I’m gonna get fucked.” You cry.

“Fucking slut, knew she was gonna get fucked from the start, didn’t think it was gonna be me, yeah?”

“If nothing happened here,” You heave, “I was gonna go home, walk my ass to your house, and get fucking pounded.”

Each word you say coaxes him more, sliding your underwear off, relieving your pussy from its tremor. He bites his lower lip, “Look at you pretty girl, pussy leakin everywhere.” He skims your entrance collecting your juices on his fingertips. “Only a slut can be this wet, my fuckin slut.” He shoves three fingers inside your sopping cunt, stretching you so wide. He starts off slow, but then he sets an unbearable pace.

“Frankie, that’s too fast, if you keep going I’m gonna come.” You wine.

“You ain’t gonna come just fuckin yet, not before my hand gets tired.” You’re practically dripping all over his wrist. The squelching of your pussy filling the room, along with the guttural mewls coming from your throat.

Frankies arm was working you so electrically, the veins in his arms were glistening. The muscles in his shoulders are so thick, his jacket was barely even on now, his shirt leaving none to the imagination.

Black ink, scaling all over his body. The thought of your pussy grazing his soft stomach, made you want to do unspeakable things. That alone made you want to be his whore. Only his fucking whore.

He spit on your cunt, lubing you up for more. The contact of the liquid makes you flinch. He wasn’t holding you anymore, he was burying his fingers inside you, bringing his other hand to work your clit.

‘Its- its- too much. Too much Frankie- I can’t last.” You gasp.

“No, you’re not allowed to cum, sluts don’t come.” He grunts in your ear, shoving his whole hand inside your tight pussy, “You think you get to come? You think just because you’re so close you get to come?”

“Please Frankie- I’ll be so good- ngh- fuck- fuck, I’ll be the best girl in the world.” You howl.

The whole club could practically hear Frankie finger fucking you.

“I can hear ya y’know? At night. I can hear callin out my name when you play with this pretty pussy. I bet you have a pretty pink dildo so deep inside ya thinking it’s my cock fillin you up.”

You can’t take anymore, the more he speaks, the tighter your walls become, “I bet you bring a little vibrator to this bud, torturing it, wishing it was my tongue.”

“I didn’t-ah- fuck-shi- I didn’t think I was that- loud. My window’s always-closed.”

“No, gorgeous. You scream so good, I can feel your body convulsing when you come because of me.” He licks a long stripe on your tit, “Look, fluttering on my fingers, fuckin pussy can’t take it can she. It’sokay ‘cause I’m gonna fuck you til you can’t see.” Fastening his pace again, “You can fuckin come now, come on these fingers like the slut I know you are,” Tears forming at the edge of your eyes, you can’t take the burn in your pussy, too powerful. Slamming your hands to his wrists, trying to make him stop but he just kept going.

“My fucking pussy.” He gives his last pump inside you, lifting his fingers to his mouth. Groaning around his digits. “You taste so sweet angel, pussy so sweet I’d get fuckin fat on eatin you out every night.”

Breaching your climax, chest heaving at a million miles per hour, “No matter what you look like,” You rub your hands along his torso, you wish you could worship his stomach, his powerful body, “I’ll always be fuckin yours Frankie.”

He sloppily finds your lips again, kissing you until you can’t feel the throb in your sopping cunt.

“Said you were gonna be a good girl?” He questions, easing the fuse on your clit. Shaking your head yes, “Give me your hands.” No questions asked, you put your hands in front of your bodies, waiting for your next instruction, just like his obedient little slut.

You watch him step back, loosening his belt and slipping it out of the loops to his jeans.

“Gonna fuckin tie me up? Tie me up like a fuckin whore, takin your cock and not able to do a thing about it?” You taunt. Rubbing your pussy on the fabric of his jeans, soaking his crotch area.

He takes the belt and slaps your pussy with it, you jump at the sensation, hitting your clit just right, groaning just thinking about being tied up like a fucking bunny, not able to move and his cock relentlessly slipping out of you.

“You fuckin dirty girl, likin her pussy to be slapped. Dirty dirty fuckin whore.” Tugging at your wrists to go above your head, weaving the belt to keep your hands snug together.

He gets on his knees, eyes level with eachother, “Give me one more beautiful, give me one more and then I’ll give you my fuckin cock.”

His tongue melding into your cunt, delving so far to a point you couldn’t reach yourself. He wrapped his hands around your waist, bringing you closer to the edge of the sink. Sitting you up as your legs dangle off his back. Heels clicking against each other.

His tongue drives inside you so fast, screaming the fire away in your lungs.

You roll your hips over his face, feeling the hook of his nose brush your clit, sinking further onto his face. He hums, moving his face side to side, pulsating his tongue. Not being able to move your hands made you squirm, trying to relieve the ache in your blazing core so quickly.

Once his tongue reaches a hole you’d never think to touch yourself, you tighten.

“Never had your ass full before?” He asks.

“No, never.” You whimper.

“It’s s’okay, one day princess.” He coos, “I heard when you fuck a girl so fast in the ass, she squirts instantaneously because the pleasur is so intoxicating the pussy doens’t know which is which.” He chuckles.

Thinking about squirting on Frankies dick, makes you spasm, the orgasm bursting out of you from nowhere.

“Hmmm, that’s it baby, come all over my fuckin face, give it all to me.”

Once he’s done devouring the last of your sensitive nub, he gets up, undoing his belt to your hands, letting it drop to the floor. Never being so relieved to touch him again.

“That was really fucking good Frankie, jesus.” You shiver.

“Don’t thank me yet, darlin. Haven’t even fucked you yet.”

The thought of seeing his cock now made your eyes roll to the back of your head, finally getting to feel his length break you open.

“Go on, get the fucker out. See it for yourself.”

You gulp, bracing yourself. You fiddle with the button to his pants, ultimately undoing it and sliding his pants down partially. You could feel your entrance fluttering, finally just one more layer.

You reach the band of his boxers, slowly bringing them down rescinding a seethe from Frankie through his teeth. And fucking finally all you were waiting for the whole night.

His cock was fucking thick and long. You’ve never seen a dick this long before. The head of his cock so red and needy, ready to fill you. Ready to fill his dumb cock whore.

“Jesus Frankie, it is gonna fit?” You whimper, you just want to feel him sinking inside you already.

“Princess, I’ll fucking make it fit, don’t worry.” He kisses your cheek.

He gives his cock a few pumps in his hand. Wait, you need a condom.

“Frankie, we need a condom, quick.” You weep.

“I’ll put out. I promise.” You side eye him, every fucking guy says that.

“I promise, no babies tonight.” He winks at you.

God your babies would be fucking adorable. His babies mixed with you. Horny motherfucker.

“No more pussy if you don’t pull out, that’s it.”

“Can’t say that now, can ya? This pussy’s been mine and always will be mine.” He snaps.

He takes his cock, rubbing his cock with the swollen lips of your cunt. Mixing your slick with his pre-cum.

“Look at ya, already got cock brain, pussy’s quiverin for me.”

“Just fuck me already, cock can’t do anything but be soft” You purr.

“I’m gonna fuck that mouth away, just you watch.” And he slams into you, “This pussy ain't gonna be the same when we go home.”

And at the hilt, he thrusts into your pussy, splitting you open. Your jaw dropping, as his dick breaches you.

“Oh my- fucking god. Frankie, you’re so big- so so big.” You mewl. He keeps pushing inside you, cock sliding in and out of you, your liquids sliding out of your hole, slipping to the ground. His shirt riding up over his love handles, pants laying on his upper thighs. The happy trail on his pillowed stomach colliding with your mound. Fucking into you so right, his balls were hitting the back of your legs. Girthy cock never failing to make you flail like a fucking thumper bunny, making your body go into shock.

“Gonna fuckin come when I say you can come. Hear me? Gonna fuck this pussy so deep your can feel it in your throat.” He yells.

You can barely acknowledge what he's saying so lost in the midst of it all, your throat bare from screaming.

“So- deep Frankie- so fuckin deep-.” You scream.

You sit up on the counter to hold onto him, to pull him closer as he fucks up into you, the angle making you go dizzy. You both were so sweaty, the slap of your bodies together making your skin flush red.

“Fuckin whore,” He grunts, “Pussy lips fittin like a glove, cock so good, it’s practically slipping out. Fuck baby.” He’s pounding into you so fast you can’t breathe, the whimpers from your body disappearing. His hands grab your waist, pulling you in and out on his dick, holding you steady.

“I’m your fucking whore,” You cry, “Always you’re fuckin whore. Been waiting- so fuckin- long to be fucked by you. Been such a good girl for this cock.” You shiver, “Want to be fuckin bruised tonight, want be used.”

“Oh baby, just my fuckin needy whole, just a fuckin cum dump. My pretty little cum dump just waitin for what's hers.”

He pumps into you, tantalizing the spongy spot inside your willowing cunt. As he pulls out, the pain is so sharp from being empty you could fall over and shrivel up.

He keeps kissing you, fucking into you and bouncing with you up an down. Saying his name over and over again as a prayer. Only Frankie can do this to you. Finally getting fucked by your next door neighbor.

“You’re right- fuck- ngh- keep going. You caught me- I’ve dreamt about this- since- shit- I moved in. The moment- ah fuck- I saw you, I wanted to suck you off. I imagined your- fingers inside me every night.” You were trembling, sweating beading over your face, you wanted to come so bad but he fucking said no.

“Strugglin their sweetheart? Pussy want something?”

“I want to fuckin cum Frankie, I want to come over your dick and feel you dripping out of me. Please, fill me up, dump into me. Fill me so full I’m dripping of you all night and everyone can see.”

“Dick brain taking over too much baby, not tonight but another night.” He soothes.

Another night, more nights with him. More nights being drunk on Frankie.

“Come on, let’s make this pussy cum again, yeah?”

You nod your head, and you aren’t prepared for what happens next.

He picks you up from the counter, walking towards a wall of the bathroom and propping you there, using the support of his thighs to keep you up. This could make you cum alone.

You were hovering over his dick against the wall, him pulling you up and down again, clamping down on his glistening cock, covered of you.

Bouncing on his cock, the angle unleashed something in you. Not only was the head of dick flittering with the spongy area of your pussy, but his length kept kissing your cervix, tearing you open.

“My dirty fucking slut, loving that my cocks breaking her tight little pussy open, “ You wail, the intermissable things he’s said to you tonight never fails to make your pussy clamp around his cock. His dirty fucking mouth making you cum to see the stars. He wraps his hand around your throat, closing your airway enough to make your eyes roll to the back of your head. His fingers over the correct veins, cutting off circulation to your brain.

“Like being choked? Like my big fuckin hand wrapped around your throat?” He snarls, “Those pretty eyes can’t focus when a dicks controlling her brain.”

You feel your stomach swell, a feeling you haven’t felt in a while, this balloon close to popping in your lower belly, never able to hide itself.

“I can feel it too, pretty girl, let go for me, douse my cock. Cum for me.” He purrs into your ear.

“Frankie- it’s strong- it’s too much- i’m gonna- im’ gonna fuckk.” Your mind blanks.

And hesitantly but surely, you hear a stream leaving your pussy, leaking all over his cock and onto the bathroom floor, soaking the hairs of his happy trail. Making the light denim of his jeans turn into a deep indigo from the leakage of your pussy.

“Yes- squirt all over my fuckin cock, yesss, pussy so perfect.” He places a hand on your stomach, feeling for his dick in the depths of your body, “See what my dick can do to your body? See when you’re a good girl you get to squirt all over me, and feel my cock all the way in this tight little pussy?”

You shudder, you almost shut down from all the pleasure, but he doesn’t stop just yet after your cunt stopped spurting out water. He forces you back on his cock a few more times, this is for himself you figure.

“God so fucking- good for me- pussy shovin me out, so tight and slick,” He shudders, “Such a pretty girl, so happy you live next to me gorgeous.” He pulls out, setting you briskly down on the floor, falling to your knees from being so numb.

Giving his beading cock a few more pumps, “Fuck where can I cum? Fuck- baby I’m not gonna last much longer, it’s-”

“Cum on my fucking neck, give me a pearl necklace Francisco.” You look into his eyes. Hot white spurts of Frankies cum falling all over your neck, your tongue managing to catch some. So salty and sweet, the perfect treat. He’s holding onto the wall, chest heaving so heavy, cock dangling in the air, your hand at the tip of his dick, collecting more cum to swirl into your mouth.

“Fuckin dirty girl, wearin me like I’m jewelry.” He laughs, “Gonna go out in public and show me off or what?”

“Couldn’t have you sleeping out my pussy, so I can have you slipping down my tits.”

He couldn’t believe the nasty head you had, but he fucking loved it, he loved everything about you. He wet a cloth to clean you up, to sooth the dull ache in your lower abdomen. You were so blissed out you would have fallen asleep.

“Come home with me.” He asks.

You did.

————

heyy everyone🙋🏻‍♀️ so how’d i do. tad scared this isn’t good bc it’s my first one shot BUT DAMNNNNNN

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal fanfics #oneshot #smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #catfish morales

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jedifarmerr · 1 year

Text

Chapter 9

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader/OFC (no y/n or physical descriptions)

Rating: E (18+ blog)

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Warnings: language?

Series Masterlist

You watched as Santi tacked five pieces of paper on the wall, one for each member of Council. You would need their stamp of approval like some rite of passage to prove yourself. Without it - well, you didn’t like to think about that.

You watched Santi tack five pieces of water-crinkled paper on the wall, one for each member of Council.

Like some rite of passage, you would need their stamp of approval to get in. Without it - well, you didn’t like to think about that.

Whack.

Santi hit the wall, the middle piece of a paper with a plastic ruler. “Preston Garvey. Mayor of Sanctuary. He’s the one who’ll run the session.”

Benny leaned in and whispered, “Nice guy. Don’t worry about him.”

“Like that’s possible. I’ll be worried even if he’s wasteland Mother Teresa.”

“Who’s Mother Teresa?”

Whack.

“Kasumi, Preston’s right hand and Head of District Planning. Deacon - Trade Relations. Then, Curie, Technological Advancement.” Santi turned to Will with a mischievous smirk. “Got anything you’d like to add about her, Ironhead?”

Santi wiggled his brows, and Will swatted the ruler out of his face. It boinged, but somehow didn’t break. Even though Will was trying to act annoyed, the tiny smile on his face gave him away.

Will crossed his arms. “Curie’s easily the smartest person on that Council. Hell, she’s probably the smartest person in all of Sanctuary.”

“No joke. She’s got it all,” Benny tagged in. “Brains, looks, and funny as shit. I think the two of you will get along just fine.”

Fingers crossed. Hopefully their confidence wasn’t misplaced.

Santi took a deep breath before looking at the last paper on the wall and tapping the crusty edge. “Tom - Military Operations.” His voice dimmed out like a dying light as his gaze swept across the room.

You wondered if this could be the same Tom from their stories. Redfly. If so, why were they acting so weird?

Your fingers drummed against the throw pillow in your lap. “So, what’s the deal with him?”

Will peered up at you. Furrowed brows - ice-blue eyes.

“There’s something you should know about Tom,” he said in that steady, even tone of his. “Tom grew up in the vaults, and it wasn’t good. We’ve been friends with him for a long time, and so we know he’s not gonna be too happy about this.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say. This was the same Tom who took down a monster bear, so he could easily squish you like a bug. You cocooned into the musty, dusty and mildewy armchair. The carpet was stained in swirls of brown and green.

“Hey, we’re gonna talk to him, alright?” Frankie’s eyes bore into you. Burnt-umber. Determined. “We’ll deal with him.”

You tugged at a loose thread on the pillow, twisted it around your finger. “Do you think that will help?”

Santi wobbled his head from side to side. “Probably not, but technically - you don’t need his vote. Just the majority.”

You almost chucked this pillow at his head. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why wouldn’t you start with that?”

Santi gave a guilty smile - conceded. “My bad,” he muttered with a small chuckle.

“Anything else I should know?”

“Deacon also came from the vaults,” Will added, “But he’ll come in with an open mind. He’s not - he was too young to remember it.”

“Kinda like how Piper is,” Benny threw out casually, as if you somehow would know that.

You blinked, and suddenly your conversation at Fallon’s made a lot more sense. I’m not one of those, you can talk to me.

It was a relief to think not everyone would hate you. At this point, you kinda thought they might, and if they did, you couldn’t really blame them.

After all, your family had done something incredibly fucked up.

—-

After a few days of planning and prepping her, Frankie stuffed his sleeping bag into his pack and swung it over his shoulder. He’d finally get to sleep in his own bed tonight.

Frankie adjusted his cap before walking over to her. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’m ready to get this over with,” she said, following him onto the front porch.

They were back on the road and headed towards Sanctuary. It was just north of Salem, south of Lynn - a coastal town crowded into a peninsula.

“Does anyone ever go in there?” She pointed at the riled up ocean, murky and brown as boa skin.

“Not unless you got a death wish.” Benny snorted. “Whole things swarming with irradiated sharks and these giant crabs.”

“Well that’s fucking terrifying.”

“Exactly.” Frankie huffed out a laugh. “That’s one of the main reasons they chose this place.”

“And here I thought they picked it based on its charm.” She grinned at him. “I always loved Marblehead. Nora had gone to college at Salem State, so on weekends when I’d stay with her, we’d always come over here and shop and eat by the water.”

“Nora? Is that a friend of yours or something?” Benny asked and her head tilted.

Surprised, she turned to Frankie. “I thought - did you not-”

Frankie shook his head. Even though he told them about her agreement and conditions, he’d left out the part about Nora. It didn’t feel like his story to tell.

Benny eyed him with rapt suspicion before slowly turning away as if he was intruding. Frankie was willing to bet that Benny was gonna hassle him about that later.

She didn’t get a chance to say anything else before they arrived at their destination. A rundown Baptist church.

Santi checked his watch as he stepped through the large double doors. “Patrol should be here soon, so don’t get too comfortable.”

“That won’t be a problem,” she mumbled under her breath as she plopped down on a wooden pew without any cushions and threw her bag on the hard ground.

He dropped down beside her, dug two granola bars from his bags, and offered her one that she eagerly accepted. Before she could grab it, he switched the flavors.

Cautiously, she plucked it out of his hand.

“I’m not trying to poison you,” he said. “Those are your favorite, aren’t they?”

A teensy smile toyed with the edge of her lips as she nodded. “I didn’t think you would know that.”

He shrugged, and maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Silently, he ate his own granola bar.

The sun burnt through the stained glass windows, igniting the room in a burst of jewel tones. He could remember coming to this church in his early days as a lowly private when there wasn’t a lick of stubble on his chin. It was usually Santi and him on this route, their name scribbled over and over in the log book under the gangrene cross at the altar.

“Do you really think this is gonna work?” Her voice was small and timid, her big eyes peered up at him.

“I wouldn’t put you up for this, if I didn’t think so.”

She bit at the inside of her cheek - chewing on it thoughtfully. She glanced at where Benny and Will and Santi were talking, a few rows away. They seemed engrossed in their own conversation. He assumed it was about Tom.

“Is there a reason you didn’t tell them about Nora?”

Frankie shrugged. “Just didn’t feel like my place, I guess.”

She smiled at that. She opened her mouth to say something, but Benny interrupted.

“Guys, they’re here.” He pointed at the shadows passing the windows.

Frankie felt his stomach twist. There was no going back, now.

—

Tom’s relief quickly morphed into confusion as the two guards shared the news.

They were back, but nobody could know.

Immediately, Tom stormed out of the Council building and towards the wall with the two guards trailing behind him.

There were no bells - no family - nobody running from town to welcome them home. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on or why they wanted discretion, but he knew it involved that girl.

The Diamond City caravan had come through town recently and told him about her. They didn’t know who she was or where she came from, and neither did these guards.

As he approached the gates, Sergeant Kessler saluted him. Most of the time, she was surrounded by a small army, but the majority of their soldiers were out doing rounds. Smart move. Less people, less witnesses. It had Santi written all over it.

At his command, the gates opened and they were home. Tom couldn’t help but smile when he saw them intact, every arm and leg accounted for and barely a scratch.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up.” He gave each one a hug. It’d been too long.

When he finally spotted her, he stepped back and puffed out his chest. His lips formed into a flat line as he crossed his arms. He was fully aware of his size, used it to his advantage as he scrutinized her.

She didn’t squirm like he’d expect. Her expression remained unreadable, but she appeared to study him.

Blue. What a stupid fucking name.

He didn’t extend his hand, neither did she. He checked her finger for a ring - nothing. Thank God, though her nails were surprisingly clean. Enough for him to notice.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to the name,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Tom curled his lips into what could translate as a smile or sneer. “Likewise.”

Frankie blinked - she glanced over at him, uneasy.

“The Diamond City caravan said there was a girl traveling with you,” he explained. “And they sure had a lot to say.”

“How much did you have to pay for that?” Santi scoffed at him.

“Couple bucks,” he lied. In fact, Molly had forced him to sleep on the couch for how much he spent.

The stupid caravan had baited and taunted him like bratty kids: I know something you don’t know.

“Well, I can only hope it was all good things.” She smirked. “Or, at least that you got your money’s worth.”

Tom’s nose twitched - what the fuck did that mean? He squinted at Frankie, who gave a puny smile.

“Why don’t we talk in your office?” Will patted him on the shoulder as if to placate him.

Tom went over to Kessler and stared down each and every guard individually. “Make sure they know one word about any of this, and there’ll be consequences.”

The Council building was a lone wolf aside from the wall. Town was over a half-mile down that dirt road, so they didn’t have to worry about anyone catching them.

Benny dragged a chair from the lobby to outside of his office for her to wait. Then, he closed the door.

“Everyone was beginning to think you guys were dead after nobody spotted you for what? A month.”

Santi sat down in the chair across from Tom’s desk, “Yeah, we got a little held up.”

“A little? I’d say that’s more than a little. I hope it was worth it.”

“I would say so,” Santi said before telling him about the vault, the hall of frozen bodies and Tom could not believe that those rumors were true.

He’d nearly forgotten about the woman outside the room until they mentioned a girl, alone in a vault suit.

Tom’s hands began to shake - his skin felt hot and stiff and too tight over his bones. They had brought the enemy into their home - into Sanctuary.

“You can’t be serious.” Tom spotted Frankie in the corner. The gray t-shirt nearly blended into the wall. He wondered if Frankie wore it on purpose, like camouflage.

“She’s agreed to help up,” Santi stated, too calmly. “But she does have a few conditions-”

Tom could not bear to hear anymore. He smacked his desk with a flat palm, rattling the jars of pens and pencils rattled, the picture of Molly and the girls face-planted. This was not happening.

Santi sighed, “Look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but we need her help-”

“Fuck her help. We’ll be fine without it.”

Santi’s gaze flickered to the thin stack of files on his desk. Tom almost flung it across the room.

“How long’s it been since we actually found a Vault? 6 years? 7? Come on. We don’t stand a chance without her. Think about it - she’s the answer.”

“Goddamit Santi. Don’t you feed me that bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, man,” Will interjected. “She’s our best bet. We’re fucking dead in the water without her.”

Tom stared dumbly at Ironhead.

“She’s willing to go against her own family-”

“What’s that say about her?”

“Fuck you,” Benny shot from his seat. His nostrils flared as if he was personally offended. “You don’t even know her-”

“Oh, and you do?” A chuckle twisted Tom’s lips into an ugly sneer. This was insane. None of them knew this woman. She could be a spy or a liar of a fucking lunatic. “Fish, come on. You’re not really going along with this, are you?”

Frankie’s gaze was slightly pained, but sure and steady as he looked at him. It plunged through his stomach - carved out his insides. He felt betrayed. He felt wronged and raw and he could barely stand the sight of him - any of them, in fact.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but -”

“Fucking save it.”

“Just give her a chance.” Frankie’s voice was soft, pleading and suddenly, Tom realized this wasn’t just about the vaults.

No - this was about her. They actually fucking cared about her.

Tom stared at the plaque on the wall - ten years of service. He knew this never would’ve happened if he was still out there with them. She’d be dead or, at the very least, in cuffs.

Tom picked up the knocked over picture frame of his family, and set it back into place. “If you’re looking for my approval on this - it’s not gonna happen.”

“We didn’t expect you to,” Santi answered. “We just thought you deserved a heads-up.”

Curtly, he nodded. There was nothing else to say.

The first person to stand up was Will. He came over and squeezed Tom’s shoulder, followed by Benny and Santi. As they left, Frankie stepped in front of his desk.

“Tom-”

“Do you actually trust her?” Tom interrupted. “Even after everything you know - all we’ve seen - what we’ve been through - you trust her?”

Frankie’s boots scraped over the course carpet when he shuffled from one knee to the next. His hands were firmly latched on his hips, and Tom thought he was about to shake his head. He expected Frankie to say he was overruled - outnumbered - of course he didn’t trust a girl like her.

He waited for Frankie to say no, but he nodded instead. Under the brim of his cap, his eyes were clear as he looked at Tom. It felt like a knife in his sternum.

Tom sniffed, half of his face twitched. His anger bubbled into an uncontrollable rage. “I wonder what your dad would think of that - about all of this.”

Frankie’s lips parted; his face blanched. The corded muscles in his neck tensed as if he was about to be sick. It was a low blow, but Tom didn’t fucking care. They had carelessly decided to bring her here, putting everyone, Molly - his girls - in danger.

Right now, he couldn’t find it in him to regret what he said. Not even as he watched Frankie silently leave without looking back.

—

The Council building was nothing special, despite the name. It used to be a convalescent home - Chambers was the cafeteria.

The founders of Sanctuary had created this bench by shoving two banquet tables together, casing it with red cloth, then setting it atop a small stage on the eastern wall.

Tom took his seat at the far, right end. The guys went first, Santi as the mouthpiece, and while he went into slightly more detail, it still didn’t sway him. Tom was rooted firmly in the opposition.

The double doors opened and Tom frowned as she stepped in, everyone in the room stared at her.

“Damn, she’s kinda hot,” Deacon gaped and Tom rolled his eyes.

He scrutinized her again. Just like Frankie and them, she had not bathed in days. She’d probably look much better clean because she was not ugly, he supposed. Different - but not someone who would catch his attention.

During her introduction, she added two hundred years to her age and he gagged at her attempt to be cute. Everyone else laughed, of course, but he swore Tess could’ve come up with something better and she was eight.

He tried - really, he did - to give her a chance, but every detail he learned about her only soured his opinion.

Her sister worked for the company, as well. Alice had been involved with figuring how to keep the vaults sustainable in the long-term. Hello - red flag?

Her mom was the fucking lead architect - her dad was Chief Director. One of the top dogs.

“You said earlier, you weren’t very close with your mom and sister, but what about your dad?” Kasumi twirled a pen in her hand. Out of everyone, she seemed to be the only one on the fence, though barely. These people were eating out of the palm of her hand.

Blue frowned. For a moment, he thought she was gonna turn on the water works, but she didn’t. She seemed to swallow it down with as much grace as a shot of bathtub bourbon.

“My dad and I were close. We have - had a good relationship.”

“And he never said anything to you?” Tom had to interject and she shook her head. “And you never overheard anything? Nothing?”

“Trust me, I’ve spent the last few days thinking about the same thing, trying to figure out if I missed something, but nothing has come to mind yet,” she said. “My family was pretty tight lipped about Vault-Tec. I used to think it was because they wanted me to work there - and what they could tell me was pretty limited with their NDA-”

“An ND-what?”

“A non-disclosure agreement.”

Preston cleared his throat.

“From what I’ve read, it basically prevented the person from sharing information with anyone outside the company. If you did, there could be severe repercussions,” Preston clarified for him, and Tom huffed.

Preston spent his free time reading any and every pre-war book that he could get his hands on about law and government and espionage. In another life, Preston would’ve been an attorney - or the fucking president. He was a distant relative of Barack Obama. At least, according to him.

Again - Preston regained control and asked a few bogus questions before one perked Tom’s interest.

“So, why you? Why did you get out?”

She shrugged, seemingly at a loss.

“I wish I could tell you. It had to be some mistake. There’s no other explanation.”

Shit answer. Too bad no one else seemed to think so since Preston moved on to her version of events with the guys.

“-so, once I had a few days to think about it, I decided to help-”

“Why?” Tom interfered - Preston’s eyes seared into his profile.

She raised her chin - her gaze level with his. “It’s the right thing to do-”

“And what makes you say that?” He, again, cut her off. Her head tilted in what seemed to be confusion. He scoffed. “What changed? What happened? You said it took a few days to decide, so what made you-”

“Guilt.” Her voice didn’t waver. “It became pretty clear I couldn’t live with myself if I just sat by and did nothing. It’d make me no better than them-”

“So, you think you’re better than them?”

“Tom.” Preston hissed, but Tom’s eyes remained glued to her face.

She swallowed - her fingers curled at her side. “I’m not perfect, but I’m not a bad person-”

“But you’re not helping us for free, right? Don’t you have conditions?”

As she let out a huff, Preston pounded on the table, a single strike of his gavel.

He pointed the gavel at Tom’s chest and warned him, “Don’t push it.”

Tom’s nostrils flared. There was a bitter taste in his mouth and he grimaced.

Preston nodded at her.

“I do have some conditions, but they’re not what you think.”

“Go on,” Preston encouraged her, then shot Tom a pointed look.

“I’m not just gonna hand over all the information at once. As much as you may not trust me, I don’t trust you,” she said, looking directly at him. “We don’t know each other. So, we’ll start with one vault and go from there.”

“Would you be willing to tell us how many locations you know?” Curie thoughtfully pursed her lips as she twirled one of her box braids around her finger.

She agreed, “Let's say around 20.”

“The exact location?”

“Yeah and I could get you within a mile or so of a couple others. I believe there are two, possibly three more vaults like mine, as well.”

That was a lot of intel, but it still didn’t change his mind.

“Okay, what’s your second condition?”

Her feet shuffled along the gritty cafeteria tile - black and white checkerboard. “Everyone in those vaults will receive a fair trial-”

Tom jolted, nearly shooting from his seat. “No fucking way-”

“It’s not just Vault-Tec employees down there. It’s families - kids - people who might be innocent.” Her jaw started to tremble. She rubbed at the center of her chest as if it burned with acid. Then, she took a deep breath. “There has to be others like me. I can’t be the only one who didn’t know. I can’t.”

“So, you’re leaving it up to us to decide whether they’re guilty or not?” Kasumi asked, her brow arched, pen stalled above her notepad.

“Just as you’re doing for me, today,” she pointed out. He hated that she was actually kinda smart.

“Anything else?”

“I want immunity for me and anyone else found innocent. They’ll get a chance at a new life.”

“Is that it?”

She hummed - nodded.

Preston looked down both sides of the table, and with no further questions, he dismissed her.

“The Council will now convene and we’ll call you back once a decision has been reached.”

—

You were in the lobby, waiting - pacing. Everyone, but Frankie, was knocked out. There was a soft snore coming from either Santi or Will.

For a moment, you lingered around the double doors leading to the Council Chambers. Perhaps, if you got close enough -

“Don’t even try - soundproof.” Frankie leaned forward in the chair that must’ve been taken from a waiting room at a doctors office. It was shocking that he could fit in the space between the armrests. His legs were stretched, open wide - arms draped across the two empty chairs beside him. It was like he was purposefully taking up as much space as humanly possible.

Groaning, you flopped onto the worn loveseat that stank of dust motes and elderly, forgotten ghosts. The ceiling tiles above you were bruised with water stains. After a moment, you rolled over onto your side and traced along the coarse, tufted buttons on the cushion, examined the pattern - maroon and amber florals, olive leaves.

You let out a long sigh. “How much longer?”

Frankie snorted, likely finding you dramatic. It felt like you’d been out here for hours, but it’d probably been somewhere closer to 45 minutes. If even that.

“You’re so impatient.”

“And you wouldn’t be?”

His head ticked to one side - fair.

Behind those doors, there were five strangers who were determining your future; a fact you were trying very hard not to dwell too much on. Easier said than done.

“Would it help if I told you how great you did, again?”

You hummed, slowly tapping your chin. “I mean, it couldn’t hurt.”

The corner of his lips twitched with a smirk. “You were perfect.” His voice dipped low - you couldn’t tell if he was taunting you or not. Either way, it made your stomach feel warm.

Immediately, you sat up and petted your shirt. “I was, wasn’t I?”

He huffed out a laugh, then looked away. For a long moment, he stared at an oil painting on the wall - a lighthouse under a dark, stormy sky. He bit down on his cheek, nibbling it pensively.

You figured he was likely thinking about Tom. Their early conversation in his office didn’t seem to go well.

“What about you, Frankie?”

“What about me?” His head rolled back in your direction.

“How’re you doing?”

He brushed you off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Too late.”

The words had slipped out so easily, it seemed to surprise both of you. His eyes met yours and the double doors opened. It jolted the guys awake.

“We’re ready.”

Again - you entered the room with a pit in your stomach. The Council’s expressions were as blank as the King’s Guard, except for Tom, who appeared annoyed and slightly disgusted. Same as earlier.

Despite the pounding of your heart, you managed to smile. Under the can lights, you wondered if they could see the sweat on your temples. Your hands were equally as damp as they twitched at your side.

Preston rose from his seat.

“After much deliberation and based on majority vote, the Council has reached a decision.” He paused and a smile spread across his face. “Blue - welcome to Sanctuary.”

#frankie morales #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco morales #frankie x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier au

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gracie7209 · 1 year

Text

Amaryllis - Chapter One

Pairing: frankie x f!reader

WC: 1k+

Warnings: alcohol mention, drunk Tom comes with his own warning, unwanted advances, but nothing crazy, implied unwanted/forced(but-not-really) sexual activity. Please met me know if there was anything I missed.

Summary: You learn that life is about to drastically change for you. Thinking back, you reflect on a moment that you never could have guessed would put you in your current situation, or how it will affect you moving forward.

A/N: I suck at summaries Just going to throw this out there and move on lol As always, I appreciate any and all feedback, reblogs etc, just be kind ❤️

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Fall is always an interesting time of year….. The leaves are changing, the air is getting cooler, Pumpkin Spice is the essential flavor of choice basically from September 1st through Black Friday and beyond…

Each season brings with it its own changes. Some good, some not so good, but predictable for the most part. Changes in temperature, the weather, summer activities and different holidays. Expected.

What you hadn’t expected in this particular season of your life, was to be looking down at a little pink + sign on a little white stick you had purchased at the grocery store. The emalgome of emotions that you feel can’t be described by just any one word. Your thoughts are racing—

How did this happen? He’s usually so careful…. Tom has never wanted kids—

—running over and over again, until you stop. Instead, images start flooding your mind. Still holding the little stick in your hand, you think back to one night, of which you’re sure resulted in your current situation.

It happened to be fight night, which meant that Tom would be out late with the guys.

Tom.

Tom was your husband of almost seven years. On certain fridays, Tom would go with Pope and Will to watch Will’s little brother Benny get knocked around as he tried to build a name for himself as an MMA fighter. He was actually pretty good from what little you’ve been told about him, though you’ve never gone to one of the fights yourself. Tom would overindulge, getting so shitfaced that he usually needed one of the guys to drive him home.

That Friday was no different.

—

You had been going about your normal routine and were just getting ready to head to bed, when you saw headlights pull into the driveway.

You hadn’t expected Tom to be back for at least another hour or two since the guys usually took to the bar shortly after the fights ended. You went to open the door and were met with a truck you didn’t recognize.

The driver also wasn’t Will or Pope, but you saw Tom in the passenger seat so whoever it was, had just been bringing him home. Stepping out of the truck, Tom was wobbly and immediately made his way over to you.

“There she is! Hey Fish, I wanna introduce you to somebody!” Tom was to you now and had his hands on your upper arms, pulling you in for a hug. The other man stepped out of the truck and made his way over.

“You haven’t met my wife yet, have ya Fish? Just look at her man!”

Tom was a very jealous, very possessive man in general, and rarely introduced you to new people. But on occasion, especially if he was drinking, he would gush about how beautiful you were. The problem was that he always did it in a this is mine sort of way that wasn’t flattering or even sweet.

Fish, as Tom called him, walked over and seemed almost shy at first, introducing himself as Frankie.

Eventually, you would learn that they were in the military together and that ‘Fish’ was his call sign just like Tom’s was ‘Redfly.’

Frankie was tall, but not quite as tall as Tom. Dark hair from what you could see under his hat that was just long enough that it curled around the edges. Broad shoulders and hands that felt rough, but were warm when he shook your hand. His beard was patchy, but it suited him, you thought. Just a hint of gray showing he was similar in age to Tom.

You were just about to ask how he and Tom knew each other, when Tom tried to take a peek down the top of your shirt… making a very blatant show of his intentions, going so far as to say “isn’t she sexy, Fish?” The discomfort showing on Frankie’s face matched your own, so when he suggested getting Tom inside, you silently thanked him with a nod.

The walk to your bedroom was silent, aside from Tom’s babbling. You and Frankie were on either side of him and you plopped him on the bed where he fell flat on his back. You nodded toward the door and Frankie made his way out, saying “G’night man —sleep it off and I’ll see you tomorrow,” after patting Tom’s leg in a friendly gesture.. almost pitying his friend, he shook his head as he walked out the door. You followed him outside and walked him to his truck.

“Thank you for bringing him home. And for helping me get him in the house.”

“Not a problem. He’s always been a lightweight and he had already started by the time I got there.”

Again, he shook his head and chuckled slightly before asking, “are you gonna be ok? I mean, do you need any extra help with him?”

“Oh. No, no, I’ll be fine” you look behind you toward the house. “He usually falls asleep pretty quickly once he’s in bed,” only a half lie.

“Ok then, well it was nice to meet you. I didn’t catch your name before.”

You tell him your name and he repeats it back and smiles slightly. “Have a good night.”

“You too..”

You watch the truck drive away until you no longer see the taillights. You know what’s waiting for you when you get back, so you don’t want to rush your walk back into the house.

There’s a reason Tom is a lightweight— He rarely drinks, normally only indulging when it’s fight night, so on occasion, he goes all out. These are the nights that weren’t a part of your arrangement. These nights, you adhere to your expectations as a wife… these nights you knew not to fight him. But something about tonight seemed different, and you’re not sure what brought on the change. Your only thought was maybe it had something to do with Frankie being in town…. You had never met him before tonight, so it seemed as though he didn’t live in the area or that he lived in the City. Whatever the reason, you wouldn’t find out tonight.

When you go back inside, Tom is ready and waiting for you.

—

The thought of having to tell Tom was making you physically ill, although it could be attributed to what led you to buying the test in the first place. Your thoughts continue unabashedly. You wish you could turn them off sometimes, but you try to stay positive—

This is a GOOD thing. A baby! You’re going to be a mother! —But the intrusive thoughts begin to take over—

Tom has never wanted kids. He’ll have even more to hold over me now. How will I ever get away from him with a child? A CHILD…

You slide to the floor with your head held in your hands—

This is a good thing.

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie 'catfish' morales x reader #frankie x f!reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal character fanfic

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pedrostylez · 1 year

Text

Something Else- pt. 6

pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

chapter summary: Benny's fight and the aftermath

rating: 18+ (no minors please) Explicit

word count: 4.7k

warnings etc: Frankie w/o a daughter, triple frontier movie plot has happened, ptsd hinted at, protected p in v sex, drinking and eating, fighting eludes to violence but nothing graphic, oral f receiving, mention of drugs

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday! Tuesday will bring another drabble about Anna and Santiago, so be on the lookout for that as well. Thank you for you continued interest, and I hope you enjoy! Please support by commenting, sending me thoughts, and reblogging. I appreciate every single one of you who reads this!

Taglist: @meveispunk, @jitterbugs927, @sullyosully @3sriracha @alltheseperfectimperfections @nandan11 @jake-g-lockley, @theanothersherlockian, @anoverwhelmingdin, @guelyury, @harriedandharassed, @wintersquirrel @scarletthefierce @paleidiot @brittmb115 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @bluetattoos

The car ride to the gym is awkward, to say the least. Instead of the original plan, you and Anna sitting in the back and Santiago and Frankie in the front, Anna is quick to sit in the passenger seat and says she’s feeling sick, not wanting to make it worse by sitting in the back.

Frankie is quick to agree, sliding in next to you and grabbing your hand and squeezing. The dark backseat of the truck pulls you closer to him, tilting toward him and his warm shoulder. “All good?” He whispers in your ear once Santiago has pulled away from the curb, trying to have his own whispered conversation with Anna.

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah.” You squeeze his hand back, bumping his shoulder. “You?”

He sighs, giving you a nod with a smile before turning his attention to the front to observe Anna and Santiago. Frankie is tense, his shoulders tight and arms rigid. He keeps holding your hand, smoothing his thumb over your palm, but there is an unspoken annoyance that he is keeping under the surface, choosing instead to focus on what is directly in front of him.

You move your hand to his knee, giving him a small shake. He’s delayed in bringing it eyes back to you, but softening upon seeing you looking at him with a questioning gaze. He leans in to kiss your cheek, moving to your ear. “I’ll tell you later?”

You give him a small smile, accepting his answer and leaning against his shoulder for the rest of the drive.

Frankie does not want to tell you anything. It’s too soon.

He’s convinced he’s going to sabotage his relationship with you before it has even really begun, all because Santiago wants to do this shit again.

“We can get that remaining money, Fish.” Pope explained, driving over to your place with the music low. “Will took note of the coordinates, and with you having your license back, we can–”

“No, Pope.” Frankie states, shaking his head. “I can’t be doing that shit again. I can’t kill people again–”

“It won’t be like that!” Pope exclaims, hitting the steering wheel with his right hand. “Shit, Frankie. We don’t have to do any of that stuff like before. It’s simple- fly the helicopter, load up, and leave. We can even leave some of it behind, wait another year and get the rest.”

The conversation had ended after that, Frankie shaking his head in anger at the thought of it. What the hell was Pope thinking? They had all risked their lives, lost Redfly, and they had barely made it back to where they were now. The more he thought about it, the more that Frankie itched for a line of coke on the dashboard right now.

Pope tried to continue to convince Frankie, all the way up to your door. Frankie wouldn’t knock until Pope stopped, but then he started right back up again. In a hushed tone, Frankie turned to him, “You don’t fucking say a word of this to her. Got it?”

Pope’s eyes widened, confused. “What?”

“I haven’t told her. And I don’t even want to go. Keep your fucking mouth shut.” Frankie muttered, listening to you and Anna speaking through the door, swinging open to reveal you both. Frankie turned to look at you, and noticed Anna’s discomfort. He could sense the tension, but wasn’t sure if it was from you and Anna, or from him and Pope.

And now, stepping into the gym with you under his arm, he still doesn’t think he can relax. To be honest with himself, Pope suggesting that shit again is having him reeling. It was fine before–he was single most times, he didn’t care what happened to him, and money was money. He was there for his friends who needed it. Money could fuel his habits, and he could go about his life.

But looking down at you when you notice Will and give him a wave, seeing the smile on your face, he’s not convinced he needs to be doing that shit anymore. “Hey Fish!” Will calls, wrapping one of his arms around you in a side hug after Frankie released you. “You brought our girl!”

Frankie gives a quiet nod, smirking at how you push Will’s shoulder and turn to Frankie. You always turn to him. “Why do they call you Fish?”

“He can down a pitcher of water like it isn’t anyone’s business, and swim between islands like he’s lived in the water his whole life. Catfish it is.” Will answered for him, patting his back before moving beyond you to greet Pope.

Frankie appreciates that Will didn’t divulge that a pitcher of water was really a pitcher of beer when they were off base the first time– “You sure you’re okay?” You ask quietly, a crease between your brows forming. “I know you said to talk later but if you’re not feeling it anymore we could just leave?”

He sighs, bringing his thumb up to the crease between your eyes and smoothing it out. “I’m alright, just…observing. Are you alright? Anna seemed…concerned when we got to your place.”

Your eyes dart over his shoulder to where Anna is standing and back to him. “She asked me how we were and I said we were good…and then…” You trail off, thinking. “I maybe broke the bubble that she lives in.”

Frankie hums, looking over to Pope and Anna and seeing that Pope is already staring at him, nodding in his direction for Frankie to come talk. Anna has her eyes down, looking at her phone and blindly sitting in one of the reserved chairs on the other end from where you’re standing. He turns to you and takes a deep breath. “I’ll be right back. Do you want a drink?”

You shake your head, taking a seat in one of the chairs in the middle and waving him off.

You cross your legs as you watch Frankie walk toward Pope, following him over to the food and drink stand. When your eyes flick over to Anna, her nose is in her phone, ignoring the rest of the world around her. “Hey,” You say, clearing your throat in the hopes to get her attention.

She lifts her head, eyes darting between yours. “Yeah?”

“I shouldn’t have…we should talk about Brad.” You wince, sliding over to the seat next to her. She seems to shrink away, but you’re convinced you’re imagining things.

She stares at you for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Brad? What about him?” She says quietly, putting on this smile that feels fake.

You glance over at the food stand where Frankie and Pope are heading back, each with a cup in both hands. “Well…I didn’t mean to catch you off guard-”

“You didn’t.” Anna jumps in, shaking her head and looking over to Santiago. “We can talk about it tomorrow, okay?” She asks, turning back to her phone and shutting you out.

You briefly nod, sliding back into the seat you started in and looking over to Frankie. You offer a smile as he hands you a cup. “I told you not to get me anything.”

“It’s rum and coke, couldn’t resist.” He winks, taking a sip of his own cup. “I got Sprite if you want to cleanse your palette in between.”

You hum, taking a sip and leaning into him for a moment before the fight starts. He wraps his arm around you, planting a kiss on your temple before leaning back. “I should have picked you up solo.” He mumbles, squeezing you tighter as you begin to laugh.

“Yeah, you should’ve.”

The fight felt surreal. Benny was the last fighter, nervously pacing in the locker room enough times that Will did not sit with you guys until he got in the ring. Will looked nervous for his brother, but happily cheered him on once the fight started.

Benny was a natural; quick, powerful, and knew how to take a punch. The first time that his opponent punched him in the face, you gasped, grabbing Frankie’s arm in worry. But Frankie told you he was okay, and Benny whipped around and rocked his opponents head back with two quick punches.

When his opponent was defeated, Benny looked over to where you all were sitting and raised his arms in excitement. You couldn’t help but also lift your arms, cheering him on with the rest of the crowd. When you turn to Frankie, smile still on your face in excitement, he’s smiling and reaching for you.

You jump up and down in front of him, his smile growing wider. “That was awesome!”

“You liked that?” Frankie asked, hands resting on your arms. You nod your head enthusiastically, wrapping one arm around his waist.

“Benny was crazy up there.” You breathe out, glancing over his shoulder to see Anna and Pope in a similar position you’re in. Benny steps out of the ring and down the half flight of stairs, being congratulated by the surrounding people before making his way to your group. The gym is quickly clearing out, people filtering through the chairs to get a last drink and head out for the night.

“Congrats man!” Pope exclaims, patting him on the back with one hand wrapped up in Anna’s. Her eyes are flicking between you and Frankie, looking up at Pope and frowning.

“Thank you, thanks.” Benny says, breathing a sigh of relief. “Another quick check for the bank.”

“Won’t be the only one, man. Soon there’ll be more.” Pope nods, smiling at him briefly. Benny’s eyebrows furrow and Frankie tenses up beside you, stiff and uncomfortable against you. You look up at him, squeezing your arm around his torso to try and get his attention but he stays focused ahead, jaw clenched.

Will glances your way briefly with a small smile on his face as if he is in the know, taking a double take at Frankie’s demeanor. He frowns, looking to you again with an apologetic nod before asking “All good, Fish?”

Frankie takes a deep breath, nodding. He tries to clear his throat, struggling to find the words. “Yeah…yeah, uh. We’re gonna–”

“We’re going to walk back. I’m kinda hungry so Frankie is going to get me some food and then we will just keep going.” You butt in, giving Will a look with widened eyes. He watches you for a moment, nodding before you turn your attention to Pope and Anna.

Anna looks like she wants to argue, but Pope gives a small smile. “Be careful, walking home.”

You pull on Frankie, letting him take the first step toward the door with his arm still slung around your shoulder. He’s less tense as you step out with him, the fresh air giving you both a breath of life, his eyes finding yours as he slides his hand down your shoulder to your fingers. “Are you sure you want to walk?”

You nod, putting on a smile for him as you squeeze his hand. “Yeah, I think it will be better to walk, don’t you?”

He agrees, taking slow steps next to you in the direction of your apartment. His fingers drift from yours, reaching up to the back of his head to scratch under his hat. “I don’t want to keep you waiting, sweetheart.” He sighs, shaking his head. “I just…I’m not really proud of who I used to be, and what we all did the last time we were in South America and…Pope wants to do a new round of it.”

You listen intently, shoving your hands in your pockets and looking over at him. He’s fidgeting, anxious and clearly upset. “Why does he want to ‘do a new round’?” You question quietly. The silence is loud in your ears, aware of every other thing happening around you. The bang of club doors, cars driving by, lightings flickering-it all is horribly obnoxious with Frankie staring at the sidewalk.

As you take more steps further with Frankie beside you, you wonder if he will ever respond. It isn’t a far walk, but with you both taking your time, you’re pretty sure he has been silent for more than five minutes, thinking to himself and figuring out what he wants to say.

You look forward and see your front door just ahead, wanting to rush inside. Maybe Frankie needs to be behind the door, quiet and safe–

“Because we left a lot of money behind.” Frankie finally spits out, looking over at you and back to the sidewalk. “And he wants to load up on as much of it as he can before bringing it back, putting it into safe accounts and doing it again in a year.”

You��ve reached your door, standing outside it together with your key clenched in your hand. The idea of so much money that it is worth going back to South America doesn’t make sense to you. “Is that what Anna was talking about?” You voice your inner thoughts out loud, watching Frankie’s eyes widen. “She said Santiago was going to be in South America for a month. Is that what he told her?”

As you unlock the door, Frankie stands at the threshold, not taking a step in. “I’m sure he didn’t tell her the whole truth.” He mumbles, shuffling from foot to foot.

You look back at him from setting down your bag, wondering why he hasn’t stepped inside. “Frankie, come in and shut the door?” You ask quietly, watching his shoulders sag as he strides in, carefully turning the knob as he shuts the door behind him. “Now just, sit down okay? Do you want water or something?”

He nods, taking off his hat and leaning forward into his hands. He’s still so jittery, and what’s worse is you don’t know how to help. You set a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him, sitting down with your leg pressed against his and resting your hand on his back. “Tell me what you’re comfortable with, Frankie.”

“God I don’t deserve you.” He breathes out, shaking his head and leaning toward you to grab your hand. “I know it’s only been a couple weeks–”

“Frankie,” You stop him, rubbing his back and giving him a smile. “Just tell me.”

Frankie did tell you. He couldn’t remember much from the mission because he had blacked out most of it, pushed into this headspace that he gets into when flying, mixed with the anxiety of the safety of his squad that made his mind fall blank until he was trying to control the crash of the helicopter.

He tells you this, and goes on about how they had to travel through the Andes Mountains, how his donkey was killed by a fall and how everyone reacted poorly-unfazed. How they had to burn money to stay warm, and how the kid from the village shot and killed one of their own. How no one dares talk about him now, even though all the money they brought back with them is in a trust for his kids.

You sit quietly throughout, stroking your thumb over his and squeezing his hand to let him know that you’re listening when he pauses. He tells you about his drug problem before going to South America, and how coming home after the disaster of a trip only made his itch for it worse. How he pretends to drink a beer when he is in public with his friends, because he wants to keep them safe without drawing attention to himself.

“I’ve been clean for two years.” He says quietly, looking up into your eyes again and shaking his head. “I think Pope was trying to wait and make sure I was sober before suggesting we try again.”

“Why ‘Pope’?” You ask just as quietly back, eyes wide and expectant. “You’re Catfish, and he’s Pope?”

“He’s always been…the savior. He always has a plan, brings us together.” Frankie mumbles, shaking his head. “But I don’t think he’s thought this through. I…I want to leave it behind, that whole ordeal.”

You shake your head in confusion. “Why not? Why can’t you? Can’t you just…tell him no?”

Frankie sighs, feeling tears burn at the back of his eyes, threatening to spill over. He’s trying to convince himself that he shouldn’t cry in front of you yet, no matter how comforting you can be. “If…If I don’t go then, they all will go through with it anyways. And they won’t have a pilot and…god they might hold it against me.”

“No.” You affirm, scooting closer to him. “No, Frankie, they wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“Not outwardly.” He mumbles, tilting his head down and looking at your coffee table. Anything to not look you in the eye right now. “But…it’s a lot of money to leave there.”

Your silence is enough to tell him that you are thinking that it is a lot of money. Your fingers squeeze around his, asking him silently to look up at you. When he gets the courage and does so, your eyes are shining with your own tears ready to flow over your lashes. He thinks you look pretty, sad and upset for him, and he feels his heart break. “It’s not worth that type of money to lose yourself.”

He stares at you, trying to process your words as you tilt your head, moving your hands to stroke the back of his head and the hair there. He closes his eyes, pulling his lips into his mouth and breathing as slowly as he can through his nose. It’s not worth that type of money to lose yourself. You were right. He could feel it, pooling in his stomach and soothing his nerves at the thought that he might not have to go through with this.

When he opened his eyes again, seeing your own cheeks flushed and eyes sad, the anxiety came back. The feeling of your fingers in the back of his hair, twisting and untwisting his curls was the only thing keeping him from fully spiraling, leaving your apartment and finding his dealer he knew would be in some dark alley across town. He reached up to your wrist, pressing himself closer to you and making sure to keep your hand on him, sighing out when you opened up to him and presented your lips sweetly.

He could get lost in you right now. He wants to get lost in you right now. Your mouth against his is the only comfort he thinks he needs. Your tongue slipping against his, sighing out as your other hand comes up to his cheek, stroking that bald spot on his jaw that he’s always hated, and your knees that you somehow got onto pressing against his thigh. He pulls away from you, chest heaving and swallowing thickly. “I don’t think I can leave them to do it themselves. I wouldn’t forgive myself.” He says gruffly, opening his eyes to yours.

You’re searching-for something he doesn’t think he can give you. You finally whisper out, “I understand.”

He feels his chest collapse in on itself, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes as he leans forward to press his forehead against your shoulder. You tighten your grip around the nape of his neck, shuffling around until you are in his lap, holding him steady as he tries to push down the overwhelming feeling to give up. You’re shushing him, stroking his hair and saying things that he can’t hear as his ears ring.

He grips around your hips, pulling you closer to him and gasping at the feeling of your warm center against his. He can get lost in this. He doesn’t have to think, if he gets lost in you. “Please.” His own voice sounds different to his ears, the sound of desperate want leaking from his mouth is not something he’s ever heard.

Your eyes darken, mouth parting as you dart your look from his eyes to his mouth, down to his hands that are squeezing you tighter. “Frankie, I don’t know that you’re-”

“Querida,” He interrupts, pushing his chest against yours. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” You whisper, massaging your fingers into his scalp again.

His eyes flutter closed, taking a deep breath. “I want you, if you want me.”

From then on it’s silent. No words spoken between you, only the sound of you breathing and moaning, Frankie groaning and flicks of eyes to each other to check in on the other person. You’re quick to pull his shirt off, his lips attaching to your exposed collarbone and adjusting to lay you flat on the couch. Your head propped on the arm rest and tilted back at the feeling of his lips trailing down your sternum, tongue peeking out to swirl against the button of your jeans. He watches you intently as his fingers fumble with the zipper, pulling them down with a grunt.

He’s quick to bring his mouth to your center, relaxing at the sound of your sigh and your fingers in his hair. He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking lightly as he trails his fingers down and fills your center. Two fingers push in, your hips jutting down to meet him at the feeling. He curls his fingers to feel you pull on his hair, drooling over your hole with a groan. He needs to feel you, needs to get lost in you. He swears that this will distract him, unaware of your orgasm until his fingers slide more easily through your folds. He pulls off of you enough to look down at his fingers again, continuing his movements as you try to squirm away from him.

He knows the feeling is overwhelming, slowing his fingers until he can pull them away from you and up to your clit for a soft circling. You whine, pulling at his hair again how he craves and dragging him up your body to seal your lips with his.

When your hands leave his hair he almost stops you to put them back, but then feels your shaking fingers at his pants. He helps, pulling them down as you lower the zipper while sealing a mark into your neck. You groan, shoving him away with a small smile and blown wide pupils and slapping a hand to your neck. “Frankie–”

He gives you a smirk, biting his lip at the look of deep red blooming through your fingers. “Spread your legs.” He says gruffly, pulling your thighs apart and sliding his eyes to yours again.

You comply easily, one leg resting on the cushion on your couch and the other landing down on the rug. He watches how your hand slowly slides down from your neck, exposing the hickey he just gave you, and down your shirt that you still have on to reach for his cock that is now actively dripping onto your stomach.

His breath stutters as your fingers wrap around him gently, giving him a few tugs before he starts to meet your hand eagerly. Half lidded, he reaches into his back pocket that is low on his thighs, still tangled around his legs, to his wallet where he is almost positive he is keeping a condom. “How old is that?” You breathe, giving a small smile at how he shakes trying to concentrate on the wrapper.

He gives a small laugh. “It’s not old.” He swallows, feeling the pause before you continue moving your hand over him. “I–fuck, I put in there recently.”

You furrow your brow, tilting your head in question. “Why?”

Frankie feels a blush creep up his chest as he grabs your wrist. “Wanted to be prepared around you.”

Your laughter isn’t something he expected-maybe a slap to his shoulder and a scoff, but you’re in a full fit of giggles. He joins you in laughing, watching as your eyes light up, trying to suppress your smile and failing miserably.

“Why would you need to be prepared for me?” You giggle, trying to control yourself but a smile is still apparent on your face. Your hands come up to his stomach, skating your fingers down his belly button.

It tickles slightly, making him tighten his abdomen a little as he rolls on the condom. He shakes his head at you, smiling again. “Well, look where we are right now?” He leans down to press his lips to your jaw, your chest rising and falling with laughter.

It’s silent again as he notches the head of his cock at your entrance, the pause in breathing you both take as he slides in slowly. He sighs, humid against your cheek as he pushes until he is seated flush against you. It’s overwhelming, the feeling of you wrapped around him, and he glances down your body to see how you’ve stuck to him. Your chest, rising and falling and brushing against the hair smatter across his, his stomach, softer than he wished rubbing against yours. He tensed his stomach enough to see between you, his hips pressed to yours, dark hair leading to his center shining with precome and your arousal.

He pulls back just as slow, watching his own retreat before pressing back in and looking up to your face. This is exactly how he wanted to be distracted.

You pull him back forward, shoving your fingers in his hair and tugging. He grunts at the feeling, beginning a rhythm that has you whining for him. “More, Frankie-fuck, you feel so good.” You throw your head back against the arm rest, a dull thud that would typically go unnoticed catching Frankie’s attention when you wince.

He stops, pulling away from you even though you paw at him to come back, flipping you over with your top half hanging over the armrest. His hands sink into your hips, propping your ass up for him as he groans again. “So fucking perfect like this.”

He slides into you again, adjusting his hands for one to hold your hip from pressing into the couch, the other landing on your ass cheek and holding you steady. You sigh happily, flicking your gaze over your shoulder at him briefly before closing your eyes.

Frankie’s pace speeds up, driving into you with an inability to think about anything other than you that he’s sure he is going to finish too soon. Somehow you know, a hand blindly reaching behind you to rest on his chest, enticing him to lean forward. When he does, you’re quick to wrap your hand behind his neck, “I w-want you to-holy shit-t-to make a mess. Frankie, on me.” You whisper hoarsely, opening your eyes enough for him to catch the glint of satisfaction.

He moans, shaking his head and breathlessly laughing. “You’re–fuck–you’re something else, baby.” He pulls you off him, suddenly frantic and ears ringing. He flips you back over, your legs falling slightly off the couch as he tugs the condom off to feel his hand.

You’re quick to replace it with your own.

You’re smirking at him, hair a mess and cheeks flushed. He can’t help it when he starts to come, white ropes painting your stomach and almost catching your shirt. He reaches to the back cushions of your couch, holding on for dear life as you continue to move your hand over him, eventually reaching for your wrist to stop you with how dizzy he feels. He feels delirious, watching you slide a finger through his come and bring it up to your mouth, peeking your tongue out with big round eyes up at him.

You hum around your finger, popping it out of your mouth and sighing. “Come shower with me?” You ask quietly, tilting your head toward the hallway.

He nods, standing up and holding his hand out to help you. Frankie trails behind, keeping his eyes on you and helping you into the shower, touching you gently as hot water cascades down his back, his fingers working you to another orgasm that has you floating and sleepy. He willingly slides into your sheets, wrapping you up in his arms and listening to your breathing slow until you’ve completely slumped against him.

Frankie doesn’t think he will be able to fall asleep, but will happily lay in your bed with you wrapped around him, hoping that you can distract him again.

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