#triple frontier moodboard

[pimosworld]

Unrequited

adjective; (of a feeling, especially love) not returned or rewarded.

Pairing -Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Francisco Morales

Series Summary- Francisco was always afraid of settling down. He left Santiago to pick up the pieces after Colombia and now someone else is taking his place. Now he must cope with repairing the past without disrupting his future.

CW-18+,NSFW,MDNI, Angst, hurt/comfort, lovers to enemies to friends, friends to lovers, PTSD, mentions of addiction, therapy,canon typical violence,depression, anxiety, smut, m/m, m/m/f, eventual poly relationship, alcohol consumption,infidelity,unprotected piv,oral f receiving, oral m receiving, marriage proposal(s)

A/N- Based on this drabble, I can’t get enough of Santi and Frankie but I’ve always wanted to explore how Frankie would be the one who couldn’t commit or settle down after the events in Colombia.

Series Masterlist

Chapter I-Lovesick

Chapter II-Pining

Chapter III-Yearning

[sayxit]

Falling Angels

[maroonpascal]

And now I see daylight

I only see daylight

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Series summary: after a panic attack you called the only person who could calm you, who also happens to be your ex-boyfriend. And after a stormy night, the next morning only brings daylight.

Warnings: 18+ smut, MDNI, soft!frankie, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), riding, creampie, talks of birth control, unprotected sex, pregnancy, use of pet names (honey, babe, babygirl, mi amor, mi ángel, princess, sweetheart, angel)

Word count: 5.1k

Notes: second part of “But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain” - lyrics in the title for this one are from Daylight by Taylor Swift

My other fics

Dividers' creds: @anitalenia

“Let’s take it to the bedroom.”

And a moment after you’re crossing that door, up in his arms. That same bedroom that last night was so dark and somber, and now instead it is warm and bathed in the sunlight filtering through the curtains. But you know that the sun is not the only form of light, you have your own just in front of you, as you cup his cheeks and kiss him, hands tangling in his curls. Your one and only light, making you feel safe now in his arms, breathing him in, breathing in his golden light that is mending you.

Frankie lays you gently on the bed, bedsheets undone as he hovers you, kissing you on your cheeks and then on your lips; soon he reaches your neck and you hope that he knows he’s the cause of your pulse pumping that fast, heart racing as he descends and kisses you over your chest, leaving it only to take off your t-shirt. And you’re not wearing anything underneath that, his lips closing on your bare skin, a hand going to cup you and holding you gently. Lips go over your breast, soft and wet, as he circles your nipple with his tongue before closing his lips around it, sucking it briefly. He proceeds to do the same with the other one, as you exhale a moan already, a hand in his hair as you urge him to go lower.

“We can take things slowly, you know, we have all the time of this world,” he utters, kissing you on your abdomen, making you hold your breath, as you would always have the same reaction to that, “And even if we hadn’t it, I would make sure to bend time just to spend it more with you.”

You melt at those words, as if you weren’t already melting at his soft touch, his beard scratching lightly your skin, and you surely haven’t forgotten how romantic he can get, how he forgets the entire world outside when he is in a room with you.

Frankie really takes his time, making sure to kiss every inch of your skin on your upper body, and having him all over you is what is breathing life in you again.

He descends, hands hovering the waistband of your sweatpants, looking up at you only waiting for your nod to pull them off and letting them end up on the floor, together with the t-shirt.

Eyes catch the sunlight as he lets the back of his hands go up and down over your thighs, touch so soft, “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” eyes full of adoration as if he is staying beneath one of the seven wonders of the world. But to him, you’re the eight one, a wonder that is all for him, and that he has the honour to cherish.

You smile up at him, “You should look at yourself right now, Frankie.” You say, and a smile lights up his face; he’s effortlessly beautiful, those luscious curls falling over his eyes, that half opened denim shirt revealing his skin underneath, and that smile that is for you and you only. He takes that compliment by ducking his head and beginning to kiss you again now on your tummy, then avoiding your panties and going over your thigh, his hand holding the opposite one to have more space to kiss you on the inside of the thigh. You widen your legs for him, and you just take in that touch, that love being delivered to your skin, that gentleness that you could never forget. You would be lying if you said that you hadn’t yearned for that, because Frankie has his way of treasuring you, treating you like he’s handling the most precious diamond. And you have missed that, not even the anger towards him could have erased the way you feel about him and the way he makes you feel.

He digs a little more his thumb into your soft thigh, now going on the other one, nose brushing on your skin and tracing a path until your inner knee and then going up again. When he kisses you on the inside of the upper thigh his nose bumps on your panties and you instinctively move against him, your body responding to him even before your mind can stop it, actually giggling behind your hand as he looks up at you with a knowing smirk.

“We are a little impatient, aren’t we?” He teases, leaning his cheek on your thigh, your hand lost in his curls, “Can you blame me?” You tease back, biting a bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back your giggles.

He smiles over your skin as he kisses your hip, hands smoothing over your thighs, claiming them as his, “I’m gonna give you everything you want, my princess.” His voice deep and soothing, like honey dripping directly on your skin.

Frankie toys with the hems of the panties, then actually taking them with his teeth and lowering them down, helping himself with his hands, fingers hooked under the tissue as he lets it slip from your hips and then down your thighs, until he lets them fall on the floor.

He felt your panties being already wet in anticipation and now he can’t take his eyes off you, “Mira la maravilla que eres.” His hands smoothing on your thighs, parting your legs a little more.

He parts your folds with his thumbs, cold air hitting you and making you pulse even more, and you move a little against him, wanting more, him sighing at the sight of how wet you are, his thumb now going over your centre, “God, you’re so wet, babygirl.” He breathes, eyes wandering over you and he definitely doesn’t lose the chance to spread your wetness over your folds, until reaching your clit. He indulges there, thumb passing over it and starting circling, but soon his finger is substituted by his lips. You moan as he laps his tongue over you, toying with your folds before lustfully closing his lips around your clit, fingers starting to press against you. You move towards those fingers, easing them in as you want, him not moving them but just letting you adjust to them as you prefer, and the easiness with which they slide in is just perfect. Frankie starts working them inside you only when you’ve stopped moving, looking up at you for confirmation, nodding back at him and throwing your head back in pleasure when he curls them inside you, still stimulating your clit. They massage you from the inside, your hand gripping the bedsheets, the other one brushing over his curls and you have such a heavenly view beneath you when you look down: he’s diving in you, completely lost and eagerly wanting always more, his fingers hitting exactly where you need them just like his tongue moving over you in that way that drives you crazy, and it is all there, in the way that he knows every single part of your body and knows how to please you.

You moan his name more than once, accidentally moving against him, Frankie just humming at that, hand grabbing your thigh to have even more space, just to give you more. And you know he could do that for hours, it’s already happened, when he made you come three times in a row, just eating you out and occasionally slipping his fingers in, edging you only to make you then explode in pleasure. And maybe it’s because the last time he did this was a month ago or so, and you’re so touch starved that the orgasm is building up already, the brushing of his beard over you stimulating you even more. He senses that, and he speeds up his fingers, going deeper and keeping his mouth there, his only desire to have your come over his lips.

His name falls from your lips, “Frankie, Frankie, Frankie,” and he hums satisfied at that, as you grab his curls, moving your hips against him, him taking all of that, not wanting to lose a single drop of you.

And coming over his lips might be what heaven feels like, releasing your orgasm as you moan loudly, Frankie still lapping his tongue over you; you reach his wrist as he’s starting to pull his fingers out, and you feel his lips curving in a smile as you do that, even though eventually he pulls them out, smoothing his hand over your thigh.

When he raises up his head he has come over his lips, his moustache and a bit over his nose too, making you smile, his eyes crinkling at you.

“What?” He asks, raspy voice as he’s taking back his breath, “Nothing, you just have…” You brush your finger over the tip of his nose, collecting that, and he slightly parts his lips, ready to clean it as he sucks on it.

“Come here.” You breathe, cupping his face, the soft beard under your palms as he hovers you and you bring him for a kiss, his lips wet in you. His thumb goes over your cheek and as he keeps kissing you, you feel his bulge against you.

Your hands reach his sweatpants, going under the waistband and starting to pull them down, him getting the memo and in a second they meet the same fate of the other clothes, together with his denim shirt too.

He’s kneeling between your legs, eyes laying on every inch of your skin, fingers tracing imaginary lines and hearts over your waist, then your hips and your thighs.

And you’ve never wanted him to make love to you as you want it now, waiting to be complete, waiting to have him inside you.

You take his hand, pulling him again, Frankie kissing your palm as you do so, feeling again his lips over yours, and it is all there in that passionate kiss, both your desire and his.

But you remember one thing, “Frankie,” parting from his lips, “I’m not on birth control and I- I don’t have any condoms.”

He nods at you because well, he definitely doesn’t have any condoms with him either, since he surely didn’t think that a single call would have led you two to this, to wanting each other so much again.

“It’s okay, babe, we don’t have to do anything that requires all of that.” He reassures you, pressing a kiss on your forehead, but he sees your hesitation, tilting his head to one side.

“It’s just that-”, you start, hand brushing over his beard, “That would be fine with me.”

There had been lots of talking about this, about trying to have a baby, but then he decided to go on that trip and you had abandoned this thought, definitely letting it disappear from your mind when he started talking again about the other trip. You couldn’t imagine to risk to have a kid and not even knowing when or if Frankie would have come back, so it all ended. But the talking had been there, and a lot of times you two had wondered how it would have been to bring a kid into this world, and you could never forget his dreamy eyes as he would talk about all the things he would do and how he would teach them this and that, and bring them to see the Ocean for the first time, and the list would go on and on, just like it would go too for you. That gave you heartache and you knew it did the same to him, but there was nothing you could do if he didn’t change his idea about those infamous trips.

A sparkle lights up Frankie’s eyes, “Are you sure?” He asks though, you biting your lip, “I am, I have never been so sure about it.” Tracing your fingers over his beard and then smoothing over his eyebrows, “But Frankie you have to promise that no more trips, alright?” You say over his lips, Frankie nodding firmly, “No more of that.” And he kisses you deeply, as if with that kiss he’s sealing his promise, sealing his commitment to never give in to those trips, he’s sure he wants to put a neat full stop to that life.

And when he’s lining up to you, his tip brushing against you, he still checks for that consent to really do it.

You urge him on his arm, nails almost digging in his skin, the other cupping his face, “Frankie, I need you to make love to me like your life depended on it, alright? I need you to fuck me and showing me how much you’ve missed me, can you do that for me, mi amor?”

He sighs, mouth agape at your words, kissing your palm, and he doesn’t answer. He just pushes himself inside you, a controlled but deep thrust, making you hold your breath. And it feels exactly how you remembered it, if not even better, stretching you and filling you in way that is so perfect, as you bring him for a kiss, hands lost in his hair. It shouldn’t surprise you the way you welcome in so well, how the way he feels inside you is so comfortable, the slight pain being barely there. That is how it has always been, like your bodies were made to be together, to be put together like two pieces of a puzzle.

You kiss him deeply, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him a little more, Frankie smiling over you lips and adjusting himself by deepening his thrusts.

As he leaves your lips you can feel his throat reverberating with a low moan, his eyebrows furrowed for the pleasure, his muscles contracting as he keeps thrusting. And for a split second he thinks of how he had never imagined to end up in bed with you again, making love to you. That is why he kisses every inch of skin he can reach, cherishing you, tracing paths on your neck; he feels your pulse beating so fast and he smiles knowing that it is his making, then going for your collarbones and shoulders, a hand cupping your breast and holding it, toying with your nipple.

You throw your head back in pleasure, letting him have everything he can take from you, his hands going over your waist and holding it, giving it a new shape.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t missed this, the way he has of making love to you, of whispering dirty things in your ear as he claims you as his, that voice guiding you, leading you through the pleasure and making you feel on another dimension.

You move against him and actually there is a thing that you’ve missed like hell, “Frankie,” you exhale, out of breath, “Dime, mi amor.” He utters, lips over your neck, nose brushing behind your ear and kissing you there too.

“I want to ride you for a bit.” You kiss him on his cheek, a dimple appearing under your lips.

And he could never say no to that, smirking as he pulls out, making you moan at that and laying half seated next to you, as your look wander over his body, bathed in that golden daylight.

He wraps a hand around himself, “Don’t make me wait too long, babygirl.” A smile breaking on your lips as you straddle him quickly, balancing yourself on his chest and pushing down on his length. And fuck, he’s big and in this way it could hurt, but instead it goes in easily, lips parted as you moan.

Frankie’s hands are soft around your hips, thumbs grabbing your thighs, as you begin to thrust on him, and you feel like a goddess over him, as his look marvels on you, adoring eyes laying on every inch of your skin; he arches a bit his back to let you go deeper, moaning when you do so, that warm light all over your body and he thinks he might be seeing the light for the first time in weeks. He moves you both when he sits up, his face reaching your collarbones and his teeth gracing your skin.

Your hands are lost in his curls, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and keeping him close, feeling him all around you, he’s everywhere; riding him feels like heaven and hell at the same time, hurting the right amount and giving you that shoot of pleasure, the one that ignites your muscles and makes your heart beat so fast.

He dives on your chest, kissing your breast lightly, going to cup the opposite one with his hand and holding it, thumb brushing over your nipple. It only makes you go faster, searching for more and more friction, him wrapping his lips around it, sucking it and for a moment holding it with his teeth, making you hiss; he goes onto the other breast, same treatment, your head thrown back in pleasure, regaining your breath only when he leaves it and starts kissing your neck.

He reaches up and you trap his moans in your lips, hands behind his neck and fingers tangled in his curls, and he thinks that he could never give up any of this for anything else in this world, that he will never put something else at stake when he can have his whole world in his arms.

And through the kisses his hand slips over your clit, fingertip circling and pressing there, your legs trembling already at that, “Fuck,” you exhale over his lips, riding him even more, getting all the friction and touch that you need, feeling worshipped by him.

You delay your orgasm on purpose, even though you feel like you could explode right now, holding his wrist and him withdrawing from touching you any more, your body shaking though.

“Wanna lay down, babe?” He understands, sensing that the poor sleep of last night might be having the best of you, making you feel tired.

You nod at his words, him kissing your forehead and flipping you gently on the mattress, pushing in with one precise thrust right after, “Better, angel?” He coos, sweetly building up again his own rhythm, you relaxing for a moment, your heartbeat giving you a break, “Yeah, thank you.”

“Good, baby.” He says, pressing a kiss on your forehead as you keep welcoming him between your legs.

And quickly your orgasm starts to build up again, panting over his shoulder and moaning his name as he covers you in kisses, hand brushing over your hair.

“There you go, there you go.” He utters, when you’re starting to tighten around him and keeping him close, digging your nails into his skin, exploding around him moaning his name, only for him to keep thrusting and releasing into you right after. And it’s warm, the sensation of having all of him inside you, and to have his heating body still pressed to yours, as he breathes deeply before kissing you so passionately, a hand through your hair.

And how many more kisses he leaves you, your muscles relaxing at his touch, even though he’s still inside you. And well, that is where exactly you want him to be for now, not wanting him to leave you anytime soon.

That is why you grab his shoulder when he’s starting to move to pull out, “Don’t…” you exhale, because you could never want that to end, never want him to leave your body.

Frankie knowingly smirks, remaining buried inside of you, even thrusting a little more, “You want a second round already?” He jokingly asks, making you giggle alongside him, covering a little your face.

He gently removes the hand to see your eyes, “It’s okay, but you gotta give me a little break, I’m a bit old you know.”, which makes you burst out laughing, him laughing with you, nudging his face in the crook between your neck and shoulder, landing a series of kisses there, sensing your perfume now mixed with his.

“I just missed you so much.” You confess, keeping him close with your legs wrapped around him, giving him a kiss on his cheek, that soft beard under your lips, brushing his eyebrows with your fingertips and his expression is relaxed and at ease.

“Yo también te extrañé muchísimo, mi ángel.”

You smile softly, brushing your face against his, him leaving a kiss on your shoulder, as shivers cross your skin.

“Babe you’re starting to feel cold.” He says, raising up from your shoulder, kissing your forehead, “If you started to fuck me again I would get warmer really quick.” You lavishly whisper, fingertips going over the freckles on his shoulders and chest, “I know you want it, Frankie.”

He really has no secrets when he’s with you, you can read his face and you’re pretty convinced that you can read his mind too, knowing what is going on behind those brown eyes, a hint of golden in them.

“I know that you’re dying to fuck me again, once is not enough for you, you need to release again inside me, making me scream your name again…”

And as you keep inciting him, Frankie starts to move slowly, thrusting sweetly into you.

“Eso, mi amor, eso.” You encourage him, moving against him to meet his thrusts, his own cum inside you serving as lube, and the sound of all of that is surely obscene, but it exactly what you need. And what he also needs.

“Go on, baby, fuck me like you can only do.” You say again, and he starts thrusting harder and deeper.

You know you’re surely about to become overstimulated, and that seems like such a delight.

“¿Es eso lo que quieres?” He asks a rhetoric question, to which you can only exhale a moan, Frankie thrusting so strongly that he moves you up on the bedsheets; you grab his arms, and he’s so fucking hard inside of you, hitting exactly where you need it, as he kisses your neck, tracing a wet path on your skin.

You reach one hand between you two, wanting to rub your clit, but he stops you, pressing your hand on the bedsheets, “Gonna do it for you, princess.” He says, as he reaches your clit, his fingers rubbing on your bud, and that is enough to make you moan loudly, legs already shaking. “Yeah, tell me about it, angel, tell me.” He kisses your chest, still pressing your intertwined fingers on the mattress. “You’re takin’ me so well again, sweetheart.” And he starts to leave your chest, getting up and being kneeled between you, having beneath him the heavenly vision of himself thrusting inside you and your folds welcoming him so well, all the wetness around it, “Fuck,” he exhales at that, you searching for his hand to hold, him intertwining his fingers with yours again over your hip, as he keeps rubbing his thumb over your clit.

You feel a heat building up in you again, strong, intense, even more than the previous one, making you clench around him, him moaning at that.

“Frankie, Frankie,” you repeat his name, panting, “Yes, babygirl, give it all to me, come again.” His thrusts deeper and stronger.

Everything is so overwhelming as you explode again, the orgasm making your legs shake, not even holding them around him anymore, holding his hand for dear life. Series of unholy things leave your lips, as he keeps pushing inside you, only to moan just as loud as you when he releases again inside you; the feeling is pure warmth, filling you up again so much that you wish he would never finish.

He reaches your face, kissing you as you’re both out of breath, hand brushing through your hair, your chest rising and falling so fast, sweat between both your bodies.

“Te amo, te amo más que mi vida.” His husky voice now close to your ear, before he presses a kiss on your forehead, sweet and gentle in that way that he only has.

“I love you too, Frankie, so much.”

You don’t know how much time you both spend still embraced, but he eventually starts to pull out, you exhaling at that, feeling empty after such a long time.

He kneels between you once he’s pulled out, a finger going over your folds, the sticky cum on his fingertip. You shiver at that, overstimulated by it all, “There’s so much of me in you, babe, look at that.” He says, brushing his finger there once again, his eyes marvelling at that vision.

You feel exhausted but also on cloud nine, looking at him with dreamy eyes, as he reaches you up on the bed, kissing your forehead before leaving you for a moment. He drapes his denim shirt around you, closing some of the buttons, “So you won’t feel cold immediately, or you’re gonna ask for a third one.” Which makes you giggle, the crinkle by his eyes warming your heart.

Frankie pulls up a pillow, seating there next to you and pulling you in a hug, letting you cocoon against his chest.

His hand goes over your arm, as he presses a kiss on your hair, “When you’re supposed to get your period?” He softly asks, you squinting your eyes as you reckon it.

“Should get it in around two weeks.” You answer, him brushing a thumb over your cheek, “But I hope I won’t get it.”

He smiles down at you, kissing you on your lips, your fingers brushing on his beard, and you really wish that this warm morning will bring a new warm beginning.

Those two weeks pass in a heartbeat, bringing already a new beginning, which is him moving to your house, where you would already spend much of your time during your relationship, as Frankie always said that there was a different light here, a light that tastes like love and hope.

And that is what drives him to move back with you, you having invited to do so, as you also agreed that your house is definitely bigger and it has already an extra room for the eventual baby.

The baby, you have been pacing around the house, pacing in front of that empty room for so long some days, Frankie knowing exactly where you were when he wasn’t finding you in none of the other rooms.

You felt his arms around you, hands cupping on your tummy even though you dint even know it yet, it was too early.

He pressed a kiss on your neck, hugging you from behind, “I knew I would have found you here.” He exhaled, rocking you in his arms, the warm light filtering through the pale curtains, the room being actually empty if not for a series of unboxed stuff that Frankie had brought from his house. It is a blank page, a place where you can write your future, where a new dream could take life.

“A couple more days.” You say, your look wandering, a bit of fear in you as you think that maybe you won’t be pregnant, that maybe you’re both dreaming too much, and that is gonna take longer to fill this room.

His hand rubbed on your arm, “I know what you’re thinking, honey,” he uttered, “Everything is gonna be okay, and if it doesn’t… we’ll be alright anyway, because we’ll be together and we will still have each other.”

You turned in his arms, eyes a bit glimmering with tears and he had embraced you in a warm hug, his hand behind your head, comforting you. He pressed a kiss on your hair, “It’s gonna be okay, babe.” He reassured you, your silence speaking more than a million words.

“I love you and nothing is gonna change that, alright?” He soothed, searching for your gaze, you nodding at his words and really wanting to be more like him, be more hopeful when instead there was a storm inside you, something that was not letting you sleep.

And maybe that was a sign.

The test is sitting on the sink, waiting for the timer on your phone to go off and read the result. Minutes that are feeling like an infinity, like time really is stopping right in this moment.

It almost makes you jump when it finally goes off and you hesitate to look at it, that kind of fear still gnawing at your brain.

That is why you actually turn the other way, a hand over your eyes, “Frankie, come here please!” You call him and almost immediately you can hear the steps approaching the bathroom, the half closed door being pushed open.

And Frankie is surely puzzled when he sees you with your back turned at him, “I need you to look at the result, I can’t, I just can’t.” You sincerely say, “Of course, of course.” He says, hearing the footsteps getting closer.

“Oh my God.”

You turn only to find him with a hand over his lips, that doesn’t cover his smile though, and his eyes glimmering in tears, that smile lighting up his face and your heart makes a jump.

“It’s positive,” Frankie says, ecstatic voice broken by the tears, “You’re pregnant.” He beams, showing the test to you, the little screen clearly saying pregnant.

And a tornado of emotions washes over you, taking your breath away for a moment and it all breaks down in tears, happy tears, as you jump on him, Frankie taking you in his arms and lifting you up.

You kiss him and you can taste also the tears, a big smile on his lips, “We’re expecting.” You say breathless, him nodding and you’ve never seen so happy, he’s literally beaming.

“We’re expecting.” He repeats, and you’re sure that you can feel his heart beating so fast against his ribcage.

And maybe, that is how things were supposed to go from the beginning, because when two people belong to each other, the daylight will always shine on them.

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

you and me - always forever

Frankie Morales x reader | wc: 710 | mdni | ao3

a/n: my moodboard submission for @chaotic-mystery's lovely wired 4 you challenge. this is my song (always forever - cults) and Frankie is my man for this fluffity fluff. and since I cannot not write, here's a little something to accompany the board. oops, it's basically a tiny fic, yes, you were right @guiltyasdave thank you for being smarter than me and the beta <3

summary: how Frankie and you came to be a night drive couple

warnings: no y/n, reader is called gata (Spanish for cat), mentions of addiction, mentions of ptsd, allusions to smut, a sprinkle of angst, a generous helping of fluff, Frankie is in his 50s here and is turning into a silver fox because I think that's fucking hot, you're welcome

They all have it, this message engraved on the inside of their skulls.

You are not safe. No one is safe. Defend yourself, now.

Sometimes they get along for weeks without any issues. And then, one night, they wake up and mistake their loved one with a life threatening danger. They all have been there, they all have done that. It turns them into lonely men, because they keep their distance. 

Who would want to love an old war vet anyway?

You want to. And you do, basically from day one that you met Frankie. Enamored by his hesitant smile and the thick silver streaks in his hair. By the way his eyes crinkled when you made him laugh against his will. By the way how soft his beard felt against your neck later that week. Wrapped up in his tenderness that lurks beneath his crossed arms. Deafened by his silent let me love you, please love me behind his huffs and puffs and scoffs.

“You’re a damn stray kitten,” he likes to say when he is the one who curls up in your lap and lets you stroke this one more-salt-than-pepper curl behind his ear. “You’re lucky I let you climb up my leg that day, mi gata,” he purrs when he is the one leaving traces of his nails on your thighs. 

But he fools no one. “Catfish found his forever home,” his friends laugh and it sounds like they are happy for him. They were afraid he might end up alone, after all. But you took him in, the grouchy old vet, who was barely keeping his addictions at bay but with you it’s a little easier. Because if someone thinks of him as worthy for their love, maybe he is worthy of a life. And a good one at that. 

Even with a 5 adorning the beginning of his double-digit age. Even with his child he co-parents with his ex. Even with not falling asleep next to you. Because of how afraid he is that he might hurt you this time. That he might lash out and fight you. Just because something in his broken brain tells him that you're the enemy. And not his gata, his love, the one he adores and wants to protect from every kind of harm, even if he is the harm.

So he waits until you fall asleep and steals away from the frail peace of the bedroom. He exchanges it with the borrowed peace of a night drive. It's something that occupies his mind and his hands and it is so much better than drugs.

You're worried sick the first times. When Frankie disappears from your side and you wake up in the dark to nothing but his scent on the pillows and your skin. You understand why he does it, but you want to be there with him.

“We're partners, Morales,” you whisper one morning, when he comes crawling back to bed with you, smothering you with kisses and his head tucked under your chin. “As in: you and me.”

“I know, mi gata,” he croons softly and curls into your side. A stray cat coming home after a night in the cold.

The next time he leaves your bed, restless and nervous, you follow him, bare feet tapping on the concrete of the driveway, a blanket around your shoulders. He doesn't know if he should laugh or cry when he notices you, your accusatory pout more intense because you're still in your pajamas.

“You and me!”

It's a lost battle, he's been in the army long enough to know this. Frankie opens the passenger door for you and pats the seat. “Hop in.”

It's the first night of many. Sometimes you fall asleep next to him while he drives through the night. Sometimes he takes you to his favorite 24hrs diner and you eat waffles at 2 am. Sometimes he tells you about the things he's seen and done. Sometimes you stay out long enough to watch the clouds turn lilac again when the sun starts rising. 

“You and me,” you murmur and stifle a yawn. Your fingers are intertwined, a fabric woven to withstand the greatest strain.

“Always.” He squeezes your hand and smiles at you. 

“Forever,” you add and kiss his knuckles.

as always, get kinky and praise the fuck out of me, every comment and reblog let's me giggle and blush. <3

general masterlist here

dividers: @saradika-graphics

[ohhoneypascal]

In Honour of Frankie Friday~ (Heavily Inspired by listening to, ‘Everything Is Peaceful Love’ by Bon Iver)

Prompt; Beach Date with Frankie Morales 🌊

[gnpwdrandsnshine]

Tom had said it, there at the beginning, right before it was too late to back out, he'd told them they couldn't go back to their normal lives after this.

Frankie hadn't believed him. Not really. Not until after Tom was gone and most of the money was gone and everything had gone to absolute shit.

He's standing there in that ridiculous shirt, clean shaven for the first time in he can't remember when, brand new fake passport burning a hole in his back pocket and he knows without a doubt he can go absolutely anywhere he wants.

Except home.

[berryispunk]

I had this idea spooking around in my head about a lighthouse keeper Frankie fanfic

I won’t spoil too much but here’s the moodboard for it 🌊⚓️

(also highly inspired by the moodboard of trawlerman Frankie made by @morallyinept)

[wildemaven]

Pizza & Cards with the Delta Force Boys

[joelsflannel]

merry christmas, cariño

or joelsflannel presents: a frankie morales christmas

masterlist

pairing: frankie morales x wife!reader rating: absolute tooth-rotting fluff warnings/tags: husband!frankie, dad!frankie, frankie is a girl dad and I stand by that, very fluffy, morales family christmas, kaleigh uses lots of words to say not that many things, blink and you'll miss it barely a reference to TF canon events, not one but TWO sets of big, brown, baby cow eyes, no mentions of religion or anything outside of presents and santa. reader has no specified appearance, pictures are included for aesthetic purposes only. word count: 351 (she's just a baby, your honor) summary: mom and dad get woken up for presents ofc.

A/N: merry pedromas @frenchiereading!! surprise, I'm your pedrostories secret santa and I hope you enjoy your moodboard as much as I enjoyed making it. I couldn't help myself at the thought of christmas girl dad!frankie so I had to write a little blurb. It's a little cheesy but hey, 'tis the season ❤️🎄

dividers by the amazing @saradika

Peaceful. The morning starts out peaceful, the comforting weight of Frankie’s arm holding you impossibly close as the light begins to shine through the curtains. The soft sounds of snores and a smell so warm, inviting, and uniquely Frankie fills your senses and provide a soothing soundtrack for the start of the day. Turning in his grip, you can’t help but admire the sleeping face of your husband. Tracing a gentle finger over the scruff of his jaw with an almost reverent gaze. The way his mouth parts slightly and the ever-present worry lines between his eyebrows fade with the warm embrace of sleep. The peace doesn’t last long, replaced by the sound of small feet pattering down the hall and sweet giggles growing closer before the door swings open. 

“Mama! Daddy! He came, he came!” The excitement in your daughter’s voice is enough to stir Frankie’s sleeping form, his arms tightening around you one last time before sitting up. His sleepy eyes sparkle in a way that melts your heart into a puddle. The perfect father, the way he grabs hold of his little girl and litters her small face with kisses, matching brown eyes caught in a battle of who can out puppy dog eye who. After a few minutes of laughter and your daughter deciding that you make a great tickle target (read: your daughter begging to go downstairs to unwrap her presents from Santa), you finally make your way downstairs. Spoiler alert: her puppy dog eyes win every time. 

It’s been a long year, one made exponentially better by the warmth brought by your little family. The little giggles, the sound of wrapping paper being torn open to reveal months of hard work met with bright eyes, the feeling of Frankie’s arms wrapping around you as the two of you curl up on the couch and watch your daughter play with her new toys. She’s completely entranced by them, only tearing her attention away to look up every now and then with a “Mama, Daddy, look!!” that warms your heart in a way that no fire could hold a candle to. 

“Merry Christmas, Santa.” you turn your head to look up at Frankie, those strong arms tightening as your eyes meet his. He shakes his head with a laugh before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “Merry Christmas, cariño.”

[lotusbxtch]

@evolnoomym's First Birthday Celebration Moodboard - Frankie Morales x horseback riding

Hi darling @evolnoomym! I'm sorry I'm so late, but here is the moodboard you assigned me! I really like how it turned out - it feels like a golden dream.

Prompt: Frankie Morales x horseback riding

You and Frankie take the horses on a beach day ride, have a cute picnic in the sand, and then tie up the horses before jumping into the ocean for some swimming and kisses as the sun sets.

Hope you enjoyed! Happy first Tumblr birthday!

[pedroscurls]

Third Time’s A Charm | series masterlist

COMPLETE | ao3

Summary: There is history between you and Frankie. In fact, you have both broken up twice and yet, you still seem to find your way back to each other. Could this third chance be the last and final one? Character pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Rating: 18+, explicit (minors dni), each chapter will have warnings -- if applicable.

Part 1.

Part 2. 

Part 3. 

Part 4. 

Part 5.

Part 6.

Part 7.

Part 8.

Part 9.

Part 10.

Part 11.

Part 12.

Part 13.

Part 14.

Part 15.

Part 16.

Part 17.

Epilogue.

[pimosworld]

Frankie and Santi take a little holiday together during the Christmas season.

[maroonpascal]

But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: you and Frankie have broken up but one night a panic attack makes you resort to the only person who can calm you

Warnings: panic attacks, breakup, a bit of angst, fighting verbally, pet names (darling, honey, babe, mi amor)

Words count: 3.8k

Notes: does the ending deserve a second part? Let me know ❤️ // lyrics in the title: The way I loved you - Taylor Swift

Update: second part is here

You’re grasping for air, everything feeling like it is collapsing on you, chest tightening as you hold a hand over your chest, trying to ease the pain but failing as it is not a pain that comes from the surface: it comes from within, it’s inside your chest and nothing could ease it right now, nothing could make your heart go slower and make it stop pounding in your chest, your rib cage hurting for the fast breathing.

Nothing but his touch, that familiar touch that would bring you calm and would bring you back to reality. But you don’t have him next to you, not after the breakup. Fights were never a thing between you two, there was never the need to raise your voice, until when three weeks ago you both did that. And right now you’re so caught up in the panic attack that you’re hating even more the reason why you fought, because it is denying you from having him next to you.

Hands tremble as you take the phone from the nightstand, and among the blur of the tears you scroll your contacts, and there is no one else that you would want to call, if not him.

You shouldn’t, after everything that’s happened and especially at such hour of the night, but eventually you press on his name, that name followed by heart emojis that you refuse to change, no matter how cheesy it can look.

The phone rings once, twice, three times and with your chest tightening even more you’re about to put it down, when the line gets picked up on the other side.

“Darlin’?” His husky voice lets you take a big breath.

But it is not enough, still unable to even pronounce a single word, let alone formulate a phrase.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he picks up immediately what is going on, having known and seen you having these attack more than once.

“Breathe with me, alright?”

You follow his instructions, letting that voice guide you and still, it is not enough, you would need him right by your side, holding the bedsheets close to your chest, trying to search for some comfort.

“Everything is alright, one more.” He says, you following his breathing. And you haven’t uttered a word since you picked up the phone, struggling to breathe and not being able to say anything.

“There you go, honey, there you go.” He coos when your breathing is starting to slow down, your eyes watering with tears, and a sob escaping your lips, covering your mouth with your hand but not in time, hot tears marking your cheeks and your fingers.

You hear him sighing on the other side, “Let it all out, it’s okay.” He keeps reassuring you, as you hold yourself with your arms, shaking your head as if he could see you, because nothing is okay. You miss him like hell, that lacking lacerating your chest and carving your heart, making it hurt even more than the panic attack. Your throat is hoarse, burning for the breathing and the tears that you had tried to hold back, failing.

“I’m coming over, darling, I’m coming over. Just keep breathing, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Frankie you don’t have to-” Your voice croaky, but he is having none of that, clicking his tongue on the other side of the line, “I do, instead. Wait for me.”

The room is silent again after you close the call, holding your knees to your chest, silence so hollow that it feels like it’s gonna swallow you, and that just reminds you how it would have been different if he was already here, if he had been sleeping by your side, holding you. And well, sometimes you wanted to hold him too, him bantering about the fact that he couldn’t be the little spoon, but he would shut up really quick when he would feel your arms around his torso, nuzzling behind his neck and delivering kisses all over his skin. He wouldn’t admit that, but he secretly enjoyed it even more than holding you, melting in your arms while being lulled to sleep and letting go of all his fears and nightmares. Because if you have yours, well he definitely has his, after whatever happened on the Andes.

So Frankie knows what it feels like to have one of these, to be trapped in your thoughts and your fears, in a cruel realm.

Those damn expeditions were the reason why that day you were arguing so much, you exasperated by another “trip” he was organising, as you shook your head at him, tears running on your face at the thought of what had happened last time, how you thought you had lost him forever. You would never tell him what he has to do, never prohibiting him anything, but this is the only thing that you’re gonna prevent him from doing. Frankie putting himself in danger for whatever reason and you having to wait for him to come back, hoping that he will come back in one piece? Not on your watch, not another time.

“Frankie I don’t want you to go, and you know why.” You had argued, your throat tight because of the tears.

“I came back last time, what are you so afraid of?”

Those words made you not only sadder, but even angrier at him, “You came back, you say? And tell me, how did you come back, uh? With nightmares so bad that you would sleep one hour per night,” you start counting the things on your fingers, your chest rising and falling quickly, “You would flinch at every single noise and your hands would tremble every time that the memories got the best of you, taking you somewhere else; you couldn’t even stand the rain because somehow even that reminded you of that trip.”

“Have you forgotten all of that?” You had pledged when he was giving you no response, “I haven’t,” he raised his shoulders, “But this time it will be different.”

You clicked your tongue, “Different? As in you will not come back at all? What is gonna be the difference, catfish?” Your blood pumping faster, feeling it in your jugular, so loud.

Frankie went on the things he would have gotten out of this trip, but you already lost him, you lost him the moment he had decided to go.

“You know what, Frankie?” You thundered, rising your hands in defeat, “Go on that trip, if that is what you want.” You took the keys from the kitchen isle, pointing then one at him, “But do not expect to find me here, waiting for you.”

You slammed the door of his house behind you, eyes burning with tears as you made your way to your car, parked along the sidewalk. Once in, you had placed your head on the steering wheel, crying silent tears that soon had become sobs, and God only knows how you managed to arrive back home safely that day.

A few water drops start hitting the window, that sound almost making you company, rhythmic like the thud of your heartbeat still ringing in your ears, still feeling it in your throat. He didn’t go on that trip though, you think right now, as you had accidentally met his friend a couple of days ago, telling you that it had been cancelled for good, and you wonder if he had done it for you, if some of your words had had an effect on him.

You’re still holding your phone when the noise of the door being unlocked reaches you, steps approaching the bedroom.

“Darlin’?” He calls from the hallway, and you let out a “I’m here.” Weak, but loud enough for him to hear it.

Your heartbeat for some kind of reason slows down the moment he crosses the bedroom door, his hair a little damp, like his denim shirt with raindrops staining it temporarily.

There’s in you the urge to stretch your hand towards him, to pull him close to you, but there is also the distance between you two blocking you, a metaphorical distance, a distance that is letting its eerie presence between you two, like the fog rising outside.

“You came.”

“You called.”

Frankie looks at you from the doorframe before taking few steps towards the bed, his look studying you, apprehension lingering on him; he’s close enough to sit on it, but he still hesitates, unsure about what to do in a room where none of you two have ever been unsure about something. Your bottom lip quivers at the sight of him so close to you, but still so unreachable.

“How are you feeling?” He croaks, holding himself in his arms, fighting the urge to hug you, thinking that it would be too much all of a sudden.

You clear your hoarse throat, “Better, I think, I’m- I’m breathing at least.”

He nods, now finally sitting on the edge of the bed, just on your side, “Was it a bad dream? Or a plain attack?” He asks, smoothing his hand a bit on the bedsheets, your eyes following his movement, that hand that you would love to hold and that you have pressed so many times on this very bed, intertwined with yours.

You clear your mind from that thought, “Just an attack, no nightmares.” You utter, costing you so much to pronounce some words.

But your eyes betray your emotionless words, being glimmering for the tears that still are coming up.

His hand keeps smoothing on the tissue, now closer to your knee, and it goes just above it, rubbing it gently, and even a gesture like that brings you comfort right now.

“Frankie, I- it felt so horrible, I thought I wouldn’t have ever breathed again.” You blurt out, chest burning.

He furrows his eyebrows, fighting his brain telling him to not come closer to you, and his heart instead telling him to embrace you in a hug, beating fast just at the thought.

And with Frankie, the heart always wins.

He can’t bear hearing that soft crying without doing anything, so he gets up and then sits next to you, embracing you in a hug that takes your breath away and then gives you oxygen at the same time.

He brings a hand behind your neck, circling his thumb there, “It’s okay, I’m here now, it’s okay.” Voice warm like the hug you’re in now, his heartbeat close to your ear making you forget about everything else for a moment, stilling in you that calmness that you need so much.

You instinctively grip on his shirt, hiding on his chest, the smell of rain on him mixed with his perfume as you nuzzle your face on it.

Frankie lets the back of his hand going over your shoulder, in a soothing movement up and down over your arm, “You’re alright, babe, I’m here.”

The thought of him leaving sooner or later makes you grip the shirt harder in your fist, “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promptly says, and he breaks the unspoken rule of not kissing you, as he lands a kiss on your forehead, thumb passing there right after.

You sink in that hug, even though you’re not sure about his words, he’s gonna go once you’re gonna be calmed down, and the fear that this might happen again plants itself into you.

“But you will go later?” You echoes, your breathing much better now, but keeping yourself in that hug for as long as possible, until your tears will dry up.

“Honey, you know that-” He doesn’t even know how to finish the phrase, because he knows that he will have to go, to leave you.

Your brain works through all the things that could happen if he stayed, and none of them is as worrying as him leaving you.

He’s your ex, you have broken up and him staying doesn’t mean getting back together… or does it?

You raise your head, your chin on his chest, “Just for tonight?” Bottom lip quivering, and his big sigh makes his chest rise and then fall down.

He doesn’t answer though, pressing his lips against your forehead again, your hand instinctively reaching for his cheek, how you have missed the feeling of his beard under your palm.

His warm hand wraps around your wrist, moving your hand gently way, and he can’t even bear to look at you as he does that, his inner moral telling him that if you broke up there’s a reason, or make it plural, and there is no need to fall back into that.

You smile bitterly as he unwraps you from the hug, pulling up the bedsheets over your lap, “Feeling better?” Not an answer, just another question.

You silently nod, seeing him getting up and adjusting the pillows behind you; his hand goes over your shoulder, gently pushing you down, closer to the mattress, “Then you should try to get some sleep.” He utters, and his lucid eyes betray him, betray his reluctance to admit that nothing has completely ended between you two, that all that you’re doing right now is a construction, thinking this is how you’re supposed to act as a broken up couple. But everything feels forced, the denied proper kisses, the hands reaching for each other but never holding and the eyes saying so many words even with just a sparkle.

“I’ll be here until you fall asleep.” He reassures you as you’re on the soft pillows, passing a hand over your face and cocooning in the bedsheets.

Frankie sees you closing your eyes and he absently reaches out his hand, retracting it immediately from brushing it on your hair. And he thinks that this is so stupid, at the same time cannot helping thinking there is no other way.

The darkness swallows him as he turns off the light on the nightstand, having seen you breathing slowly and not moving; the rain is still pouring outside, rhythmically hitting the window and he closes a bit the curtains of the bedroom, since a few lightnings have started to break the sky now.

He gets away from the window, pacing a little in the bedroom, not even sure on what he’s supposed to do right now; well, his head tells him that he should leave, he came here to check on you and calm you down, mission accomplished, and now it would be time to go back to his home, but his heart tells another story as always.

He sits on the edge of the bed, sighing and taking in the perfume in this room, your perfume, and passing a hand through his hair.

But eventually as he fights an inner battle, he gets up, feet feeling heavy and every step towards the living room and then the door requiring so much effort, the house pulling him in with some kind of force.

Hand around the handle, he only has to push the door open and everything would be fine, he can do it.

—

Frankie is many things, he’s messy, he’s stubborn and passionate, but there is one thing that he is not.

He is not a hypocrite. That is why he never pushed open that door, thinking how hypocrite it would be to come all the way here, and leaving like nothing happened when instead his heart is heavy and at the same time warm. He never got to his car under the pouring rain, driving while fighting back the tears.

He is not a hypocrite, he turned from the door and headed back to your bedroom, checking on you, and then sitting on the armchair in the corner. Sure, he had to move some of your clothes left there, eyes crinkling when he found a t-shirt of his, a bit wrinkled, but with your perfume on it. It’s not the most comfortable solution, but he doesn’t think that it would be right to lay in bed, especially when you’re already asleep, so he will bear it for one night. He wouldn’t be able to sleep at his home either, so why bothering much.

—

Humidity is sticking his clothes on him, making him feel colder, and that is what wakes him up, squinting his eyes a bit at the light coming from outside; the sun is rising, and there is no trace of any storm right now, the dark clouds having left place for the warm light.

He stretches, and obviously he’s welcomed by back pain, a gift from spending the night on the armchair; it’s all worth it though when he lays his eyes on you, seeing the peaceful expression on your face as you’re still sleeping, chest rising and falling at a slower pace and he takes in that image, knowing that could be the last time he sees you like that.

And still, Frankie doesn’t have it in his heart to leave, he thinks as he paces until the kitchen, taking the necessary to prepare some coffee, muscle memory as he takes all the tools and the coffee from the shelves. He’s sipping on it when he hears some footsteps in the hallway, “Darling, it’s me.” He says loudly, not wanting to scare you or making you think somebody else is in the house.

You stop in your tracks for a moment, your heart skipping a beat only to beat faster again when you find him in the kitchen, leaning back on the kitchen counter, sleepy look on his face. And he has never looked this gorgeous.

Only few feet separate you from him, and you would love to just run to him, jump in his arms because such is the happiness of finding him still here. But you won’t do any of that, not right now.

Your common sense stops you, but your face lights up, “You stayed!” You beam from the doorframe, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“I did,” he says, “I know you want to, so… come here.” He gives in, widening his arms, and one second after you’re engulfed by his arms, hugging him tight, that warmth against your cheek and his lips just landing a brief kiss over your hair.

He rubs his hand a bit on your back, “How are you feeling this morning?” He checks in, and you leave his arms to have a better look at him, “I’m good.” You sincerely utter, “And you’re here so…”

He smiles softly, “Took the liberty to make coffee, you want some?” He asks, diverting the talking.

So you’re now sipping the coffee that your ex boyfriend made in your kitchen, while he’s looking at you with that longing glance in his eyes, like he’s looking at something now forbidden.

“Thank you for staying, by the way.” Your hands now warmed up by the mug.

Frankie waves his hand, letting his mug in the sink, “I did what my heart told me to.” His arms now wrapped around himself, hugging himself. That is something you’ve seen him doing many times when he’s in need of comfort.

“Your heart told you to make coffee too and to wait for me to wake up?” You jokingly ask, him shaking his head, mirroring your smile.

“Maybe it did, yeah.”

Fighting the urge to kiss him right now might be the hardest thing you’ve ever done, seeing him in this warm light.

“And you’re not leaving.” You absently say, it’s more something that you just thought but somehow it left your lips too.

“I mean, I’m up, you saw that I’m alright and everything and still-”

“Do you want me to leave, because of course I can-” He anxiously says, but you gesture your hand at him.

“No, mi amor, no.”

And you realise too late that those words have left your mouth, that you called him my love.

He raises his head in a heartbeat, look softening but a bitter smile now on his lips, “I loved when you called me like that.” He murmurs, still his arms wrapped around himself.

Your hand now covers your lips, almost as you got burned by those words.

“So you don’t want me to leave… where is this gonna lead, darling?” He asks, and you notice a glimpse of tears in his eyes, shutting your eyes for a moment at that sight.

“I- I don’t know.” But your answer hides the truth, you both know that. “I just want you here with me because I miss you, and I don’t want to imagine my life without you again.”

Frankie pinches the bridge of his nose, and he wishes that things were easier. “Should we act like the breakup never happened then? Should we go back to normal ignoring why we broke up?”

And the feeling of losing him another time hurts even more.

“No, but we could learn from the mistakes, because that was a mistake, Frankie. Like, look at us. You ran here for me, spending the night sleeping on the armchair and you would have taken the pavement if there wasn’t one, and now you’re still here and-”

And you want to kiss him so bad. You’re dangerously closer to him, your fingers reaching his hair and brushing it from his eyes, getting even closer and standing on your tiptoes.

“Aren’t you gonna stop me?” You whisper, landing a kiss on his cheek, and Frankie shakes his head.

All it took was one look at you, and he had gotten rid of any reasoning telling him to not get closer to you again. He had pushed it aside, and maybe, just maybe, this will mean nothing.

But he highly doubts it when finally he has your lips over his, hand cupping your cheek and the other on your waist, pulling you even closer. It’s like breathing for the first time after ages, the kiss getting deeper real quick and that is an euphemism for two people who swore to have broken up and not wanting to be back together.

You breathe him in, his hand digging on your tshirt, and soon you’re all attached to him, bumping on his crotch.

“Fuck.” You exhale, feeling him, “So much for wanting to leave, uh?” You briefly tease, before kissing him again, hand in his hair.

His hands go lower, reaching behind your thighs, and that is when he lifts you up, landing you over the kitchen isle, still kissing you.

He’s now between your legs and well, you definitely didn’t expect to end up in this situation so soon.

“You asked where this was going to lead…” You utter, leaving his lips and starting to give pecks over his neck, Frankie gripping the kitchen isle. “I have quite a few ideas.”

“You do?” He teases back, and in response you start unbuttoning his jeans shirt, going on with the kisses, now tracing his collarbones and chest.

“Yeah,” you kiss him again on his neck, then whispering over his skin, “But let’s take it to the bedroom.”

[veryinactiveartist]

MY SILVER MOON

Triple Frontier | Frankie Morales Moodboard ft. Santiago

A Musical Moodboard for @jolapeno & @goodwithcheese Fall Challenge!

⏯️ Now playing: Luna de Xelajú (entre cuerdas) ⏭️

Concept Synopsis

Coffee & Espresso: Morales Mocha

Specialty Drink: Stargazing

It's hard explain a longing that cannot be. It's so easy for life to get in the way. To get in between what they really want. They were so young when they met; eager boys who drafted and quickly grew a bond thanks to similar up bringing, interest, language and all the other little things. They didn't have anyone else to connect with, always in close quarters and the circumstances were just right when they start right when they started to feel it.

Frankie and Santiago both knew but it didn't feel safe at the time. Time only passed and neither could ever feel ready. Thanks to their uncertainty the months turned into years yet they said nothing. At that point Frankie gave up, moving on to leave Santiago behind just as he was ready to confess. Only it was to late now. At least they could be friends right?

Well... they could be; working together could be ok enough and maybe they both grew out of that need for each other. That was the case for years but after losing Ben, something shifted. How the weapons they held seemed weak compared to the longing that was killing them in the inside.

Frankie was married, but sometimes he wished he wasn't. He didn't stop loving his wife, child and even felt happy, but maybe it wasn't enough. She had left him, and frankly, he felt blindsided. It hurt Frankie to be alone again but it didn't take long for Santiago to find out, come back and pick up any pieces. Neither of them knew where to start, what to even say. What do you tell someone you couldn't love after all this time? They didn't know but Frankie didn't want Santiago to be far away from him again. Not anymore.

After weeks of hangouts and unofficial dates, Frankie figured they'd be honest with each other and he wanted them to be alone and at ease when it happened. Away from any prying eyes, and the walls of their home weren't enough. He thought they could take a trip, just like the ones they used to. They would camp out by the nearest mountain range, light a fire, and if the weather was cool enough. They'd just sit out and look at the stars above.

A/N: So, this on is a bit long- my shipping powers kinda activated as I might make this into a possible fic in the future. Anyway it wasn't stated if we could do ships or not hope that's ok so I just went with it! Also it was really fun using Gaby's and Oscars cover for this as the song has been inspiring me for a Frankie & Santi fic for a hot minute. It's like Santiago is singing about Franky. maybe he'd even sing it to Frankie while playing the guitar👀

Ok secondly I had this idea of placing the mood board in a video so music can play vinyl style! If I could change anything I wish you could export videos with a PNG background but oh well.

So I'm currently ending my work season so I wanted to knock this out before I take the long trip back home and hope get my life in order jskksjs. My favorite part was the music board-(?) juke Moodboard? Idk what to call it lol but I would really like to make more of these boards in the future and will probably be my go to ones from now on. 🤗

[totallytatum]

“ but he feels like home “

moodboard;

frankie morales x f!reader

author’s note; these are for inspiration and fun. my moodboards are hope to spark a quick inspiration for a fic, one shot, whatever your heart desire. The inspiration for this meeting frankie on a night out where frankie and reader are volunteered to sing karaoke together.

[cherubnthechaoschoir]

BARK! BITE! BLEED! MOODBOARD + HEADER.🪽

Is it your smile I enjoy? Or the parts of me still stuck in your teeth?