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absurdthirst · 11 days

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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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spaceagerabbit · 2 years

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listen, the pedro characters and the oscar isaac characters would find you so pretty even when you’re just doing mundane things

like you’ll be laying in bed in a big t-shirt and pajama pants eating a bedtime snack (like a leftover cupcake or something), and he’ll just look at you with stars in his eyes and a small, soft smile.

you’ll look up from your snack and into his eyes, asking him why he was looking at you like that.

“you look so hot baby”, he would say, letting out a big loving sigh as he places his cheek to his palm.

your face is full of surprise for a brief moment before a soft smile is brought to your face as well, and you move your face down to the snack in your hand. you continue smiling as you eat and he lets out another dreamy sigh.

at one point he turns your head towards him, gently brushing a few crumbs off of your lips and then licking those crumbs off his fingers cheekily.

you can decide where this goes ;)

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redfields-hotbabeineurope · 2 years

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Pedro Pascal Characters

Main Rec Masterlist

The Mandalorian

Narcos

Triple Frontier

WW84

Kingsman 2

Game of Thrones

The Mentalist

Prospect

The Great Wall

#frankie morales x reader #din dijarin x reader #jack daniels x reader #javier peña x reader #catfish x reader #the mandalorian x reader #ezra x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack whiskey daniels x reader #marcus pike x reader #prince oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #pero tovar x reader

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hardlyinteresting · 2 years

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For the celebration prompts from the yearning prompt list how about -- just let me look at you for a little bit-- with sweet sweet man Frankie morales

Frankie Morales x GN!reader

"Frankie?" you call out realizing that he's not in bed next to you. Padding your way down the stairs you do your best to push down the anxiety that grows within you the longer you're without him. You find him in the kitchen, sitting at the table, a mug of tea steaming in front of him, a novel in his hand, his reading glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose. "Frankie baby, what are you doing up?" He dog-ears the page he's reading, putting the book down with a sigh, "couldn't sleep. Nightmares". You nod understanding, "Can I do anything?" He smiles, shaking his head. He leans back opening his arms an invitation you'll never decline. "Just let me look at you for a little bit," he asks as you settle sideways on his lap, arms thrown over his shoulders you rub gentle circles on the back of his neck. His hands creep under your top warming your skin. He breathes deeply finally feeling more relaxed.

777 follower celebration requests

Pedro Pascal character masterlist

#frankie morales x reader #catfish x reader #catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character x reader #hardly interesting's follower celebration #hi's 777

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javierpena-inatacvest · 3 months

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Cramps

Summary: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.

Paring: Husband Frankie Morales x Wife f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K on the dot (idk how we got here)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) PERIOD SEX, unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also they want a baby so), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, again, you're on your period but our pussy eating king Fransisco Morales is an unstoppable force of nature), creampie, praise kink, big fat nasty breeding kink (it's who I am now, I won't apologize for it), Frankie's got a NASTY mouth, Frankie is the best husband, reader is on her period/has period symptoms, talks about family planning/not being on birth control, use of nicknames (hermosa, quierda, cariño), reader has no physical descriptions besides that she can wear Frankie's clothes

A/N: Well... This was gonna be a drabble... and then it was just gonna be fluff.... and then it was gonna be just some implied smut... and now, we're here??? Idk, don't ask me 🥴 self indulgent bc I just finished my period (and my periods have been whack since stopping bc) and what better way to heal myself than imagining what Frankie would be like taking care of you 🥺 also pls be nice to me this is my first time writing Frankie and I'm v nervous EEK I hope you enjoy!!! sorry Javi bby, I still love u

Bitchy.

You wished you had a better word to describe your mood for today, but truth be told, bitchy was by far the most accurate.

You and Frankie were hoping to start trying for your first baby soon, and had recently gone off your birth control after your doctor had told you it may take a few months for your body to regulate itself before you had a better chance at getting pregnant. Your doctor had also warned you about many of the symptoms and side effects that stopping the pill could have, one of those being becoming more aware of your emotions and mood swings throughout your cycle. That, you were prepared for.

What you were not prepared for, was to feel like an absolute psychopath in the days leading up to your period.

Your cycle had been wonky the past few months as your body began to sort itself out- you had a feeling your period was probably about to start soon, but hadn’t thought much about it, considering your terrible and grouchy mood had overshadowed it. You had tried your best to pull yourself together the past few days, chalking up your grumpiness to long hours at work, or just being in a weird funk, but today, you woke up with a fire in your gut, ready to fight, and poor Frankie was about to be your punching bag.

Sweet Frankie had been nothing short of a saint when it came to just about anything, but dealing with your newly heightened emotions right before your period really should have earned him some sort of Presidential Medal of Bravery, considering that your newly discovered highs and lows while PMS-ing were just as frightening as any time he had spent during his time in the military.

Unfortunately for your husband, despite his best efforts, he had been on your nerves all morning. Not because he was really doing anything wrong, but because the little things that you were normally so good about letting go, or the patience you frequently had seemed to have flown out the window, and you were convinced that if Frankie even breathed the wrong way, you were going to absolutely lose it.

So when unsuspecting Frankie decided to ask you a simple request about after work plans, there was very little he could have done to prepare for your response.

“Morning, Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, emerging into the kitchen, his hand rustling through his untamed, sleepy brown curls as he let out a yawn and a stretch, the slight softness of his stomach peeking out between his t-shirt and pajama pants as he raised his arms above his head before settling behind you. He wrapped himself around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder as you finished putting the last of your lunch in your bag for work, trying to force yourself to focus on his sweet good morning, rather than the empty bowl of cereal in the sink that had greeted you first thing when you woke up, already starting you off on the wrong foot in your already irritable mood.

“Morning, babe.” You grinned, forcing yourself to forgo the annoyance hidden behind your smile as you pecked a quick kiss on Frankie’s lips before gathering the rest of your things for the day scattered across the kitchen table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make you breakfast this morning because I was running late, but there’s extra scrambled eggs on the stove if you want them. I’m really sorry, Frankie, I gotta head out, have a good day, I’ll see you later okay?” You sighed, slinging your work bag over your shoulder, your hands full of your coffee mug, water bottle and keys, your cluttered grip and running behind schedule only adding to your frustration.

“All good, Querida, no worries. Hey, actually baby, before you leave,” He paused, setting down the coffee mug he was just about ready to take a sip of, as if a little lightbulb had just gone off in his brain, “do you mind picking up stuff to make that really good buffalo chicken dip for Benny’s tonight? I told ‘em we’d bring like, an appetizer or something, if that’s okay.”

For Frankie’s sake, you couldn’t have been more thankful that you had your back turned to him, because if looks could kill, Frankie Morales would have been a dead man.

Every rational part of your brain knew that even though his request perhaps wasn’t the best timing, stopping by the store and making dip to bring to Benny’s for game night really wasn’t that much time or effort out of your day. But today, it seemed like every part of your brain but the rational one seemed to be functioning properly, and the raging, irrational part might as well have heard that Frankie wanted you to prepare and cook a Thanksgiving meal for 74 after you got home from work.

You took a deep breath, your grip tightening around the items in your hand, praying with every bone in your body that someway or another, you had misheard your husband.

“Tonight? As in, like, today, after I get home from work?” You questioned, trying to do your best to keep your tone from sounding too condescending.

“Yeah, we don’t have to be there until 7, I just don’t think I’m gonna have time to since I probably won’t be outta work until 6:30.” He shrugged nonchalantly, taking another swig of his coffee

Oh yeah, you’d heard him right.

You let out a deep sigh, even more over dramatic than you had intended it to be, arms crossed over your chest and stark frown spread across your face as you turned towards Frankie.

“Oh, perfect! That’s a great thing for me to find out about at 7:45 A.M. the day of, Frank!” Your voice oozed with ferocious sarcasm, now slamming your things back down onto the table to run your hands over your face. “No, that’s great, because there’s nothing I wanted to do more than to come home and make buffalo chicken dip instead of all the other shit I needed to do today before we left! Amazing! Thank you!”

At this point, you were almost positive that if your eyes rolled any further, they’d be in the back of your skull, letting out another angry huff as you shook your head at Frankie, who was looking absolutely petrified as he leaned back against the counter, eyes darting to the floor to avoid yours, running his hand over the wispy curls at the nape of his neck. Frankie began to stammer, trying to defend himself from your wrath.

“Hermosa, I’m- I’m sorry? I know it’s last minute, but you normally make it every time we go over there, I just- I figured it’d be easy for you to do? You can get something else, or I can try to stop by the store really quick on the way home, I just might-”

“Nope, you want buffalo chicken dip, apparently I’m making buffalo chicken dip!” You groaned, collecting everything back into your hands, swearing under your breath as you tried to balance everything in your grip. “Jesus, okay, I need to go to work, just- I don’t even know. I gotta go, Frankie.”

“Querida, I-” Frankie pleaded, beginning to trail behind you as you made your way to the front door.

“Frankie, whatever, it’s fine! I’ll make the stupid dip! I have to go to work, I’ll see you later.” You could feel the muscles in your jaw beginning to clench as you gritted your teeth, trying with everything in you to keep from exploding as you headed out of the house. Without even a kiss goodbye, you left Frankie in the doorway, watching you throw your things in the car and slam the door behind you as you drove down the driveway.

But as soon as you were on the road and your house was out of view, you could instantly feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, slowly streaming down your cheeks as you began to sob, wondering why you had ruined the morning over as stupid as an appetizer, and even worse, that you had been a complete asshole to your husband about it.

You couldn’t have been more thankful that work had been quiet today- no meetings on the schedule, and no one coming to bother you, leaving you plenty of peace and quiet to continue sulking and brooding in your unpleasant mood.

Right around lunch time, you found yourself eating alone in your office, wishing your lunch was about ten times saltier and chocolatier than it was, crying to yourself as you watched a video of a dog meeting its new human sibling for the first time.

Just as you were beginning to pack up the rest of your lunch and start back up with your work, you felt a terrible twinge in your lower stomach that had you just about keeled over in pain, followed by that all too familiar feeling in your underwear.

Frantically scrambling, you reached into your bag to pull out a tampon, hurriedly shuffling to the nearest bathroom, only to reveal the murder scene equivalent as you pulled down your pants.

Your period had come.

In that moment, as much as you were dreading the pain and misery that was the next few days to come, you couldn’t also help but feel a slight sense of relief, realizing that you were in fact, not actually a crazy person for the way you were feeling, you were just PMS-ing out of your mind. You couldn’t also help but feel absolutely awful for your unjustified freak out at your husband this morning, your heart sinking with guilt as you made your way back to your desk, immediately grabbing your phone to text Frankie.

“Hey… I’m so sorry about this morning. What you were asking me to do wasn’t a big deal at all and I totally freaked out on you. My period just started, I think that’s why I’ve been such a bitch this morning. I’m sorry, Frankie, I love you.💕 ”

It was almost instantly after you hit send that the reply bubble popped up in your message, your heart pounding anxiously waiting for your husband’s reply.

“It’s okay, I kind of had a feeling 😉 babe, you weren’t being a bitch- I should have talked to you about it sooner. Shitty timing on my part. I’m sorry. I love you too, Querida.”

Before you could even respond, another message popped up below his first.

“Don’t worry about going to the store or making anything tonight. I already texted Benny and told him we couldn’t come. We can spend the night in, just the two of us. I can pick up takeout on the way home if you want and we can pick a movie to watch.”

You could feel your frustrated facade beginning to melt away as your lips shifted from a pursed frown to a small smirk reading Frankie’s text, your thumbs quickly tapping across the screen of your phone to reply.

“Thank you. You’re the best.”

“Of course. Hopefully none of your co-workers ask you to make buffalo chicken dip before you leave 😘”

“Oh shut up, meanie.”

“Just kidding. Have a good rest of your day, love you. 💙

“Love you too. 🤍”

Although the rest of your day was nowhere near enjoyable, given the fact you felt like you were getting punched repeatedly in the uterus and your personality resembled that of Oscar the Grouch, you knew that your night in with Frankie was your light at the end of the tunnel, and only needed to make it a few more hours before there was at least some sweet relief finally headed your way.

Despite the constant stabbing pain in your lower stomach and back, your drive home from work had you in much better spirits than your drive there, now not only having an explanation as to why you had felt like such a mess, but also knowing the rest of your night was going to be dedicated to nothing but cuddling up in your comfiest clothes and snuggling up next to Frankie on the couch.

As you pulled down your street, you were surprised to see Frankie’s truck already parked in the driveway, wondering what he was doing at home almost an hour earlier than he had mentioned he would be this morning. Gathering all of your things out of the back of your car, you quietly entered your home, confusion scrunching in your brow as you called out for your husband.

“Frankie? Babe, are you home?”

Before you could even kick off your shoes or hang up your coat, Frankie had already appeared at the front door to greet you, boyish grin spread across his face as he grabbed your things out of your hand, carefully placing them on your entryway table before engulfing you in a bear hug, his broad arms wrapping around your body and pulling you closer into his chest.

You could feel all the muscles in your body instantly relax as your face rested against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, soaking in the familiar woody and savory scent of him, letting yourself be consumed by every ounce of his embrace.

“Hi Hermosa.” Frankie cooed, pressing a soft kiss against your temple, running his hands up and down your back as you looked up at his sweet brown eyes shining down at you.

“What are you doing home so early? I mean, not that I’m mad about it at all, I just thought you said that you had to work until 6:30 and-”

“Told my boss I had to head out early for a family emergency.” Frankie smirked, laughing at you playfully rolling your eyes from his so-called excuse.

“Last time I checked, your wife being a grump because she’s bleeding out of her cooch doesn’t classify as a family emergency, Fransisco.” You teased, giving him a little shove, making the two of you giggle in tandem.

“Eh, close enough. I’m really sorry about this morning, querida. I was a dick for not talking to you about plans beforehand and just assuming you could go do it. It wasn’t fair of me.”

“It’s okay, Frankie. What you were asking for wasn’t a big deal and I made it one because I’ve been a psycho all day. I’m sorry, too.”

“Well,” Frankie paused, pressing another kiss onto your cheek, the width of his palm gently cradling your jaw as you stared up at him and his sympathetic smile, “number one, you are not a psycho. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you must feel right now, so even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Number two,” he paused again, shifting his kiss from your cheek to your lips, his thumb delicately swiping across your skin, “you’re my wife and I love you more than anything, and if I can take a little time off to help make you feel better, it’s the least I can do. So, why don’t you go change into something comfortable, and when you get back down here, I will have pizza and ice cream, whatever movie you wanna watch, and a back rub ready for you, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Frankie. God, you’re the best.” You grinned, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your mouth meet Frankie’s, the plush pout of his bottom lip swiping across yours, lingering just long enough to let the butterflies in your stomach begin to swirl, heat creeping through your cheeks in the tenderness of the moment.

“Of course, cariño. Te amo. Now go get changed.” With one last peck on his lips, you wiggled out of Frankie’s grasp to make your way up the stairs, grinning to see that your husband had already set out your favorite of his oversized sweatshirts and sweatpants, neatly folded on the bed for you to grab, quickly shuffling out of your uncomfortable work attire and exchanging it for Frankie’s clothes, your smile growing even wider at the feeling of perpetually being wrapped up in the essence of him.

As you made your way back downstairs to meet Frankie, you found your heart skipping a beat again to see that the better part of the living room had been turned into a cozy sanctuary- lights dim and candles lit, both parts of your couch squished together, filled with every pillow and blanket you owned, and Frankie sitting in the middle, giant box of pizza, tub of ice cream and your handsome husband waiting for you.

As if your emotions hadn’t already taken you on a wild roller coaster of a ride today, the adorable sight in front of you had you on the verge of tears again, wiping the wetness pooling in your eyes with the back of Frankie’s sweatshirt sleeve drooping off your arm before crawling into the blanket fort he had constructed for the two of you.

“Frankie… You didn’t have to do this.” You sniffled, curling up next to Frankie as he draped a blanket over your lap and his arm over your shoulder, passing you a plate with 2 large pieces of pizza.

“It’s the least I could do. I put on Hercules for us to watch, but if you wanna-”

Before you could let him finish the rest of his sentence, you were running your hand across the scratchy stubble of his cheek, pulling his face closer to yours as you planted a kiss on his lips, feeling your smiles melt into one another's as your mouths met. “That sounds perfect. God, how’d I get so lucky?”

“I could say the same thing, mi amor. You ready to start the movie?”

“Only if you also pass me that tub of Ben and Jerry’s to go with my pizza.”

“I think I can make that happen.”

About half way through the movie, pizza and tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, your and Frankie’s bodies were tangled together in a sea of limbs and blankets, contently snuggled up with one another as Frankie’s fingers traced lazy circles on your back and shoulder as you laid against his chest.

“You doin’ okay, querida? Need anything?” He cooed, his soft voice dancing in your ear. As if it weren’t enough that you had already been through the extreme highs and lows of almost every feeling under the sun today, the one you hadn’t been until this very moment was insatiably horny. While the mood swings you had mentally prepared yourself for with your new period symptoms, the constant other kind of ache between your legs you had not, and feeling the low rasp of Frankie’s words tickling your neck had been just enough to flip the switch to make you desperately needy.

Letting your leg slide over Frankie’s lap, you pushed yourself up to straddle his hips, running your hands through the dark curls of his thick, brown hair, and down his broad chest, your fists bunching the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands as your mouths became a mess of tangled tongues and teeth.

“I need- fuck- I need you, Frankie, please.” You pleaded between muffled moans, his tongue swiping in the parted space where your lips melted together as one, instinctively beginning to grind your hips into his, feeling the bulge in his sweatpants starting to grow beneath you.

“Fuck- You sure, baby?” Frankie rasped, reactively bucking up into you, making you whine as his hands dug into your hips, guiding you as you swirled over the tented fabric of his bottom half rubbing against your covered core.

“Please. Please, Frankie.” You were all but whimpering at this point, nodding frantically in approval as Frankie used the grasp on your hips to guide you onto your back, making you cock your head in confusion as Frankie scampered to the other side of the couch, back turned to you as he reached over the ledge, pulling out a thick, black towel with a smug grin on his face. “Did you seriously have a towel ready incase I wanted to have sex?” You snorted, shaking your head at Frankie, now crawling back to you, caging your body under his with an electric kiss as he shimmied the towel underneath you.

“Maybe.” Frankie smirked, breaking from your kiss to let his lips trail down your body, his hands toying with the edge of his sweatshirt covering your body as he pushed it up your stomach and chest, helping you to shimmy it over your head, leaving your top half exposed. He gently palmed at your breasts, taking each pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking at the buds with his tongue before letting his kisses travel down the soft skin of your stomach and waistband of your sweatpants. The clothes on your bottom half soon joined your sweatshirt in a crumpled pile as Frankie nestled himself between your legs, gently nudging your hips to let your thighs part, revealing your pussy, slick and shiny for him with your juices.

Even though Frankie would eat you out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a late night snack, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still found himself between your legs during your time of the month, considering any other man probably would have scoffed at just the thought of going down on you on your period.

But, then again, Frankie Morales wasn’t just any other man.

“Frankie, baby, you know you don’t- Oh fuck!” You gasped, cut off in surprise as Frankie’s tongue licked a long, broad strip across your cunt, making you shudder in pleasure as his head perked up, revealing the devilish grin spread between his cheeks watching your chest already heave in heavy, shaky breaths.

“Oh I know I don’t have to, sweet girl. But I want to. Relax, baby, lemme take care of you.”

Before you could agree, protest, or anything in between, Frankie was back between your legs, arms wrapped around your thighs as they draped over his broad shoulders, digging his fingertips into the plush softness of your skin, dragging his tongue through your folds with the exact grace and precision that he knew made you fall apart in seconds.

With flat, firm presses of his mouth latched against your clit, you could already feel your bottom half writhing under him, the perfect pressure of his tongue dancing around your sensitive bundle of nerves making you moan in pleasure. As your head dipped back, falling into the couch pillow behind you, your hand shot down, fingers burying themselves in the wild curls of Frankie’s hair, tugging at the thick ends for any sort of release as he worked relentlessly at your aching cunt.

“Fuck, Frankie, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your praise only intensifying the way your husband drank every ounce of you up, two thick fingers now gently pressing inside your heat, curled deliciously as they rocked in and out of your entrance, nudging against your g-spot.

Frankie had spent enough time worshiping the altar that was your pussy to know exactly how to make you crumble beneath him, leaving you chanting his name like a prayer as his lips latched around your clit, ferociously sucking as his fingers prodded at the soft, spongy spot that made your cunt begin to clench and heat in your belly pool.

“That’s it, Hermosa. I know you’re close, baby girl. Let me feel you, mi amor. I’ve got you.” Frankie groaned, his words humming deep in his chest, placing chaste kisses on the inside of your thighs before drinking you up like a man starved, adding a third finger into your heat, the added fullness and stretch, combined with Frankie’s relentless pace, enough to have the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine now washing through every inch of your body. Your orgasm began to crash through you, your pussy fluttering as pleasure radiated in your veins, making you cry out Frankie’s name over and over.

Frankie worked persistently through your high, only pulling back after making sure that you had cum again, sitting back on his haunches as he admired the blissed out and ragged mess you had become, your pussy slick and swollen as your chest rose and fell in wrecked inhales and exhales, trying to compose yourself from the Frankie and fucked you senseless with just his tongue.

Wiping the slick and juices glistening in his mustache with the back of his hand, Frankie tugged the sweatshirt covering his own body over his head, followed by his pants and boxers, freeing his painfully hard cock as it slapped against his stomach, his tip red and leaking with precum as his broad body loomed over yours, sucking and nipping at your pulse point as you whimpered his name.

“Frankie, holy fuck.”

“Such a good girl for me, querida. You still want me to fuck you, baby?” He mewled, the metallic and tangy taste of you still lingering on his tongue as he kissed you, laughing to himself at the way you found yourself frantically nodding your head to tell him yes before your words could.

“Jesus Christ, yes. Fuck, please Frankie, I need to feel you.”

Reaching down to stroke himself, he lined his cock up with your entrance, easily sliding into your heat and brushing his tip against your cervix, taking a moment to let you adjust to his fullness. The whine you let out as Frankie filled every inch of you was nothing short of ragged, digging your nails into the skin of his broad back as he ever so slowly began to thrust in and out of you, dragging his length against the slick of your cunt.

“Oh fuck me- Fuck, you hear how wet you are for me, sweet girl? This what you needed, baby? To fill up that pretty little pussy of yours?” Frankie groaned, letting his forehead rest against yours, his sweaty curls now starting to stick to his skin as he pounded into you, rutting his hips at a faster and faster pace.

“It’s all for you, Frankie- Oh shit- only for you.” You moaned, your fingers wrapping around the width of his biceps, flexing deliciously as he hovered over you, sucking you in to a long, deep kiss, fucking into you over and over.

Even with the years between you and the ring on your finger, the possessive part of Frankie’s brain would never get over how the primal and all consuming feeling of knowing you were his, forever, your words shooting straight to his dick as a low groan rumbled in his chest, silently cursing to himself through gritted teeth, watching you fall apart below him.

Readjusting himself, Frankie sat back on his heels, hooking his arm under one of your legs to drape it over his shoulder, the new angle stretching you out in a way that had you seeing stars as Frankie rammed into your g-spot and began thumbing at your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your first orgasm. You could already feel the heat beginning to bloom in your belly once again, your leg beginning to tremble hoisted over Frankie’s shoulder as he dug into the meat of your thigh with a bruising intensity.

Just like he would never get over the fact of knowing you were his, Frankie would never get over watching you begin to crumble under his touch, taking the time to memorize every twitch and twinge your body made as you came closer and closer to your end, always savoring in the moaning mess you’d become as you fell apart around him.

“Fuck, Frankie, Fuck, oh my god- I’m close, baby.” You were all but rambling at this point, your brain barley stringing together coherent sentences as you felt your cunt beginning to clench around his cock, the lewd noises of your moans, wetness and skin slapping together as your hips met filling the room at a borderline pornagraphic rate.

“Meirda, I’m not gonna last much longer, hermosa. Fuck, where do you want me, baby?” Frankie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes locking on yours and telling him everything he needed to know without you saying a word.

“Inside. Fuck, please Frankie, I want you to cum inside me.”

Your confirmation was all it took to flip the switch in Frankie that sent him absolutely feral, the thought of being able to actually knock you up now that you weren’t on birth control anymore, giving you a baby, proving another way to the world to mark you as his? The thought alone was enough to have him bracing every bone in his body to keep him from cuming right then and there.

“Fuck me. You want me to fill you up, querida? Fuck me full of you? Fuck a baby into you? That's what you want, huh?” Frankie moaned, grunting with each thrust of his hips, his rhythm becoming more frantic and shaky as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit, swirling them in frantic circles to make sure you came before he did.

“Fuck, yes. I need you too, holy fuck- wanna make you a daddy, Fransisco.”

You could feel the tightly wound knot in your core starting to snap, your legs trembling and breath shaking as Frankie fucked into you, finding yourself on the verge of collapse- but not before Frankie’s filthy mouth got the last word in.

“Jesus, fuck- Fuck, hermosa. That’s what you want, pretty girl? I swear, I’m gonna fuck myself so deep into you it’ll fucking take. Get you fucking pregnant tonight.”

That was all it took to have you orgasm come crashing through you, every inch of your body radiating with pleasure as you came, crying out Frankie’s name as you gushed around him, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head, your mind going blank and numb, the only thing grounding you were the incoherent ramblings of your husband as he followed suit behind you.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, fuck, fuck-ahhhhhh.” With one final thrust, Frankie could feel himself spilling against your walls, coating you with his spend as his cock pulsed, making sure he milked himself of every last drop deep inside your cunt before even thinking about pulling out. Moving your leg, Frankie slumped into you, splaying himself across your body as your chests rose and fell in sync, laying in silence as you let your breathing steady, coming back down to Earth from your high.

With a shallow grunt, Frankie carefully pulled his softening cock out of your heat, leaning back to admire the mess he had made between your legs, his cum dripping down the inside of your thighs and pussy glistening with the mixture of your arousal. You let out a soft hiss at the loss of Frankie’s fullness inside you, only to quickly be replaced by a gasp as he buried his two fingers back into your cunt.

“Gotta make sure every last drop stays in there, hermosa. Gonna keep you full of me all night, baby.” He mewled, carefully gathering his spend and pushing it deep inside you, making you whimper as he slowly pulsed his fingers back and forth, pulling away his hand to lean back into your body, engulfing you with an electric kiss.

“Holy fuck, fuck me. Jesus, Frankie.” You laughed to yourself, your head dipping back on the pillow as you buried your face in your hands, at a loss for words at how euphoric you now felt in your post colital bliss.

“Wow, again, already? Gotta give me a few after that querida.” He smirked, making you roll your eyes at his joke as you playfully swatted at him, making him lean in to pepper your body with kisses, leaving you squealing and squirming in delight.

“You are absolutely ridiculous, Fransisco Morales. If you keep fucking me like that, then yeah, absolutley.”

“If I keep fucking you like this, I have a very hopeful feeling that next month, we’ll have something else to care about besides period cramps.”

“I swear to god, if one of my cravings ends up being buffalo chicken dip once I’m pregnant, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Taglist:

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @jaciejay13 @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @lola8888673 @persephone-girl @copperhalfcent @innerpersonunknown @messinadresss @devineconjuring @endlessthxxghts @cool-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @messinadress @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @ilovepedro @pascalscoffin @missladym1981 @munson-hargrove-barnes86 @angel98624 @anoverwhelmingdin @pimosworld @nandan11 @iloveenya @survivingandenduring

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pedge-page · 5 months

Text

Cravings

Frankie 'Catfish' Morales x F!reader

Summary: Pussy eating king frankie, who gets his aforementioned nickname when you tried to come up with ways to prevent him from relapsing back to coke.

Warnings: soooo much oral —pussy eating, cum eating, grinding, dry humping, cumming in pants, kissing, Frankie's mouth is everywhere, alcohol, drunk sex, unprotected sex, little dub con since Frankie doesn't ask if he can cum inside, overstimulation, free use esc situations

Notes: This is NOT the Frankie free-use series I mentioned before; I'm a bit delayed with writing it, so here's something else i had started as a drabble but then... did not stay a drabble. Please like and reblog if you enjoy this fic!

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Rather than drowning himself in coke, Santi slyly suggest he drowns himself in pussy instead. The guys around the table laughed, but you kind of agreed and told him you'd help set him up on hookups. Frankie didn't want to go through the trouble of having to find a potentially different girl each night. Plus, his cravings were sporadic. He would need his fix in that moment whenever it came.

He remembered back when you had drunkenly admitted guys could hardly satisfy you because you had a high drive, usually cumming on your fingers at least 6 times a day before bed, often times more on lonely weekends. He was left speechless at the time, but now he couldn't get Santi's proposition mixed with that knowledge of you out of his head.

You tried to cook him meals instead or buy him hoards of candy, but the idea was stuck in his mind. You knew you'd be a convenient alternative, given you only lived less than 10 minutes away and was always around when he needed help. But you were afraid of crossing that line with one of your all time best friends.

Eventually, being around him so much—"on call" as the boys put it—left you susceptible to his sweet touches, ghosting lips against your ears, sporadic twitches and jittery hands, antsy fingers dancing along your hips. You considered the option heavily before finally caving: you were doing this to HELP him, as his friend. Just a little relief every so often when he absolutely needed it.

You came 9 times on his tongue the first time. It wasn't even that he was trying to make you cum, but the eagerness in the way he moved so fast, growling and moaning at the taste, his lips attached and never left your heat. His big nose just perfectly bumping your clit each time he pointed his tongue dove deep into your craving hole, curling up and hitting that soft spot inside you left you shaking and crying out his name, back arched and fingers clawing at his shoulders.

He was sated for almost 6 days (and you needed the ample recovery time because not even your fingers could make you cum so hard) before the craving hit again. Incessant knuckles pounded your doorstep. You had barely unlocked the door before he was shoving himself in and devouring your mouth with his. "I need another hit, carniño."

He didn't wait for a response, knocking you on your ass on the sofa and stripping your sweats and panties off before throwing one leg over his shoulder. Flattening his tongue, he licks a long strip along from your hole to your clit, obscenely guttural moans from the back of his throat filled your ears. He looked wild-eyed and crazy, as if starved for weeks and was finally given the sugar rush of the century.

You inevitably move in with him, claiming his spare bedroom, worried about how bad he gets when he goes anything longer than a few hours without you.

He makes you ride his face until you're suffocating him, and he still can't get enough. Your juices flood his mouth and nose and his eyes roll back as he loses air. You try to get off and apologies, but he's caged your thighs with his muscular arms, holding your pussy flat against his face as he devoured you more, ignoring your squirming pleas. He hums against your nub, the vibrations sending you into your own addictive high. You cum again, and again, and again, and soon you're tugging his hair, crying his name with fat tears down your cheek, leaning back and scratching at his chest to let off, but its useless. He's so lost in your cunt that you become light headed, barely holding on to the headboard as your lower body continues to spasm.

He only pulls off for a minute, squeezing his nostrils to force out your juices. He's so dazed, pupils blown wide, beard and mustache drenched in your slick, so pussy-drunk and in love that he wants to do it again. "Sweetest fucking cunt, I swear. Just wanna curl up and live inside here, querida."

You offer to suck him off but he gestures embarrassingly down, where you turn to see a dark splotch on the belt-line of his pants where the tip of his spent cock peaks out, dribbling little white drops onto his lower belly, having cum untouched just from eating you out.

It gets to the point where you lock yourself in the bathroom when you take a shower just to have 10 minutes of peace. Your pussy is so puffy, clit so swollen from his constant assault day and night that you have to calm down and remind yourself what good its doing for him. He hasn't touched the white powder in weeks.

He's wondered where you've gone when he sees the bathroom light illuminate under the door. He knocks a few times, then raps harsher with his fists, calling out your name. You tell him you just need a minute. The makeshift locks on the bathroom door of Frankie's apartment isn't designed to keep an ex militant out, and he just pushes it forward with enough force that it gives way and he let's himself in. You go to cover yourself when he pulls the shower curtains away, but the same needy expression on his face as he narrows in to the slit between your legs has you aching once again. It's Pavlovian, the way he stares, practically drooling, hands twitching by his side, sending signals to your cunt to start dripping for his appetite. He spins you around so your cheek is smothered against tile, ass out towards him, not caring about the water drenching his baseball cap, grey shirt and pants as he kneels on the shower floor and puts his face between your legs. He moans when his lips start sucking on your nub, tongue thrusting in and out of your hole. He keeps you in your spread position with his arms holding your waist, making their way to spread your ass for him to dive further in, knees between your heels. You reach one arm back, knocking his cap off as you card your fingers through his damp hair, gripping it when you cum and grind yourself back on his scruffy face.

He's otherwise so gentle, so soft spoken, but when he gets between your legs, something primal takes over and you can hardly recognize him.

Sometime in the evening while you were watching a movie, you see his knee bouncing next to you. You has snapped at him earlier and refused his hunger when he peppered kisses all over your neck, down your back, then tried to yank your pants down while you were cooking dinner for the two of you, nearly burning your arm on the stove from such force.

You hated that you had outright refused him for the first time, but the truthfully the swollenness between your legs needed rest before he wrecked you again. He's biting his lip so hard, stealing glances at you before rubbing his hair and shifting his cap back on.

You instead take your top off, having gotten comfortable enough to go without a bra when it was just the two of you. Frankie is a bit shocked, only used to seeing you strip your pants first before anything else.

You crawl over to him before sitting in his lap, thighs spread over his. He swallows the lump in his throat, unable to take his eyes off of your tits right in front of him. His legs are still bouncing in agitation, the movement making your breasts jiggle right in front of him. He groans, licking his lips, breathing heavily.

"She needs a break, Fish," you said quietly, your soft and small hands seeking his big and callous ones, pulling them up over your waist before letting them settle on your cups.

He doesn't hesitate or ask further, head leaning forward and lips immediately latching on to your nipple. He moans, eyes closed as he sucks around the areola, tongue swirling your pebble as he kneads them in his hands.

You're trying so hard not to grind down on his cock, instead sitting upright on your knees so you're not fully resting your damp panty-covered crotch against the tent in his pants. The position is more head level with your tits, but he doesn't like that. He grips your hips to bring you flush against him, gasping out when you instinctually start rocking your hips steadily against his clothed length.

He noticed how heavily your chest is flexing, glaring up at you to see your brows furrowed, face tilted towards the ceiling trying not to cum on him. He cups his hands against your cheeks and brings you in for a sweet kiss, his lips slotting perfectly against yours as his hands return to palming your breasts. He presses his forehead against yours so your eyes meet, goosebumps wracking your whole body at the lust behind his eyes, and something more you couldn't place. "So good to me, querida. Perfect lips"—he gently pecks your lips—"perfect tits"—then a generous kiss to each of your breasts—"my perfect girl." You could smell the scent of your pussy on his lips, as if they'd be stained there now. Kissing your lips, your throat, collarbone, down the valley of your breasts, and erect nipples, and all the way back up again, was enough to keep his mouth busy and his craving subsided. And it worked almost as well, the two of you cumming sticky and wet against one another in your underwear with heavy sighs and sated eyes; you had calmed him down enough to get him to remove his clothes and put on a fresh pair of boxers before tucking him to his own bed with your favorite blanket.

As you tip toed into the bathroom to prep for a bath, you stared at your naked reflection: how swollen, and red your breasts were, covered in raised bite marks the shape of Frankie's jaws. Among your new scars are the faded scratches and bruises of Frankie's fingertips on your waist, stomach and lower back from how incessantly he devours you while his face is buried in your sopping pussy, like he had to sink his claws into you so you wouldn't slip away as he feasted. You look like you were attacked by a passionate lion.

His sweet nothings every time he stared into your eyes was what really turned you on. You tell yourself that it was just the withdrawal symptoms talking. That he was basically just high on a new drug.

To you, it must have looked like Frankie's craving were only getting worse with how increasingly frequent his lips found themselves attached to your body. In truth, his desire for coke steadily grew less, and it wasn't the replacement of the powder that he was seeking from you but rather the insaitability of finally having you that grew stronger.

The rest of boys noticed the effects you're having on Frankie too. They see it when he meets them for a drink every other Saturday, the way he anxiously taps his foot under the table, glancing around like he's unsure what to do, where to go, because he can't sit still. It's the signs of his cravings kicking back in, and they're all worried at first. But it's not until you up show later and slide into the booth next to him that they notice: Frankie casually drapes his arm around your shoulders like he always did—that part was normal. But what was new is how they could visibly see Frankie's heart rate slow, the way he slumped against the bench and completely calmed down from just your presence.

They also couldn't help but notice the way his eyes raked you with a mix of lust, love, and obsession, his dark gaze never once leaving the sight of you the entire night. All the while you laughed and chatted with them about your week, oblivious to the change in demeanor of your friend from just a few months ago.

You assured the boys that you two weren't fucking—and it was true, you hadn't slept with him once. albeit a few blow jobs, it was exclusively just Frankie eating you out or kissing. You were very hopeful that his cravings were going to go away soon since its the longest he's been off coke. You were even talking to your old landlord to see if your old apartment a few blocks away still had openings since you'd be moving out of Frankie's place soon. Santi couldn't help but see Frankie's dejection, his arm sliding away from you as he excused himself to get more beer.

By the end of the night, Frankie was drunk out of his mind. Will suggested he slow down so he wouldn't pass out before he could walk home. It sounded like a good plan, until Francisco glanced over to the bar and saw you sitting there and smiling at a guy who was flirting with you. Fish took a giant gulp of his beer, downing the entire jug before slamming it on the table and striding out of the booth towards you. He overheard the guy asking if you had a ride home tonight.

"She comes home with me. Every. Night," he slurred, his sweaty palm skimming possessively over your jean-clad thigh and snaking between your legs, face coming so close to you that your noses slide against each other. Frankie's eyes bore into yours with so much desire, it bordered on range. You knew those were his craving eyes. The pungent smell of alcohol on his breath made you flinch as he tried to pull you in for a kiss. You quickly tell the confused guy that he's your roommate and you need to get him home immediately. You could barely finish excusing yourself from the stranger before Frankie was dragging you out of the bar. You managed to wave to the others, making a drinking gesture and pointing to Frankie before being yanked into the street.

He was stumbling all over the place, breath uneven as you hoisted him up to lean against you, eventually making it through his apartment entrance and turning the key to unlock his unit.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Frankie slammed the door close behind him and pinned you up against it, his hands roaming your body as his mouth desperately sought yours. "Craving," he mumbled against your open lips. "Need"—tongue forcing its way into your mouth, he nipped at your lower lip, sucking on it before releasing with a pop— "need you," he panted.

"I know, I know—Jesus Fish. I'm—gonna help—gonna take care of you—" you breathed, ashamed of how quickly you could feel your panties dampen. It never bothered him though, and only encouraged his sweet tooth more. You weren't nearly as drunk as him, but your few margaritas made you extremely susceptible, even welcoming, to his touch.

You hummed into his shoulder when his hard bulge rubbed purposefully against your covered core. He bit your earlobe as he fisted your low-neck shirt before pulling it down roughly, the fabric tearing away. You gasped, ready to scold him but he pressed his mouth on you again, teeth clashing, his hands slotting down your body to pinch, grope, scratch at any bit of skin he could get.

"So—so good t'me. Always taking—such good care of me, cariño."

His fingers dip into your ass and hoist you up so he's carrying you, your arms and legs wrapped securely around him as he boldered through his apartment, kicking his door open before tossing you on the bed, watching you bounce. You never break eye contact as you unbutton your jeans at the same time Frankie pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside to unfasten his belt and zipper.

Clambering over you to reseal your lips, you breath in his scent, hands exploring his tone arms, down his chest and muscle middle all the way to the little pooch of tummy hanging. His hands gripped your jeans and pulled them along with you down the length of the bed, bringing you to the edge, his grip pushing up on the back of your thighs so your knees are digging against your rib cage, pulsing pussy exposed at his mercy. "I fuckin' love this pussy, querida," he growled before burying his face between you folds for the thounsandth time. "So fuckin' wet for me," he mumbled against your thigh, nipping at the skin.

He ate you out with precision, eyes hungry watching you, determined to make you fall apart quickly. He wasn't doing it for his own taste, but the sheer satisfaction of watching you writhe for him, knowing your body inside out as the only one who could get you like this. He's languidly thrusting two fingers in and out. You didn't even need to be stretched: he'd practically been prepping you for months now. You're crying out into the air as you cum, hips bucking against his nose with your heels digging into his shoulder blades. Frankie pulls away, kissing your stomach and up your tits before making you taste yourself on his lips.

The feeling of his cock nudging your entrance make your once dazed eyes go wide and alert. He pauses, suddenly worried. He can't read your expression, time dragging out too long and it scares the fuck out of him that he's taking it too far, that you didn't agree to this.

He had wanted to tell you everything right then: how he dreams of you riding him, or when he fists his cock in the shower when you're at work to the thought of what your tight walls would feel like wrapped around him when first violates you, how he automatically gets aroused now when he just sees you or smells your laundry, or admitting how many times he's actually cum in his pants without you noticing when he is buried between your legs, dying to have you cum around his cock instead of his tongue.

It's not until you sense his hesitation that you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close, sharing the same breath of air, nodding as your calves hook over his ass and squeeze his hips, the tip of his flush cock slipping in to your wet heat.

You both sigh heavily into each other's mouth when he takes charge again and thrusts fully inside you. He scrunches his eyes closed, forehead dipping down to your breast bone to revel in the overwhelming feeling of the tight space inside you.

You warmly caress his hair to bring him back up to you, kissing him and whispering, lips trembling, "Don't—don't think about it. Just... just use me."

His heart sank: You probably just thought this was another hit for him.

He didn't want to think about the fact that you were everything he'd needed in that moment, the image of perfection beneath him beautifully laid out for his eyes, his touch, but not for his soul. He gritted his teeth, pulling out then slamming back in, jolting your whole body up the mattress. It was fast, rough, and not at all how he wanted your first time to be with him, but he couldn't control his urges. He was gasping loudly as he fucked you, your cunt gushing around his member, the obscene sound of slick and skin slapping skin echoing in his otherwise empty apartment.

He brought his thumb to rub messy circles on your clit, sending you into a spasm of praises and expletives, but the most satisfying sound was his name repeated over and over again.

He barely manages to pull out before jerking his cock only twice and creaming all over your folds and clit. Groaning in post orgasmic bliss, he watches you heaving and shaking, filthy pussy covered in his seed. Half of his mind is only working now as he slides back down to lap you clean with his mouth, his own saltiness filling his throat, fingers scissoring inside to get your juices flowing, obsessed with the sight in front of him: your back arched off the bed, heels digging into his lower back as his hands pinning your hips down flat so he can work his mouth over you. And then you're cumming again, so angelic on his tongue, your sweet moans going right to his dick, hardening once again as he ruts into the mattress. He nips your clit and sucks, reluctant to pull away as he lines up and splits you open. You scream out, and if it weren't for the way your barely-recovered battered walls kept sucking him back in, he'd be worried you're in pain. His hands hook under your lower back, lifting you off the bed as he plows into your squelching cunt over and over again.

Youre both covered in a thin layer of sweat, the pillows and comforter of his bed strewn haphazardly around the floor as he dominates you. The headboard slammed recklessly agains the wall, and neither of you cared about your neighbors trying to sleep at 1 in the morning. He ignores the oversensitivity of his cock and your clit, forcing you both into an unexpected climb of another orgasm like it was a primal need.

It was happening without warning; he should be asking for permission, but he knew you took the pill, and he's been dying to release inside you from the moment you first let him put his lips on you. You're cumming on his cock again, hips bucking and grinding against him without your clit being touched, and he was done for.

With a harsh cry, he climaxes again, his length flooding your womb with ribbons of white. His arm shoots in front of him, flat on the bed next to your ear to hold himself up so he didn't crash down on you as his hips jerked, pushing his seed deeper in to you.

He rested most of his weight on top of you, labored breaths combined into one. He kisses the top of your nose, whispering "thank you," unsticking your sweaty bodies as he rolls you two over to have you lying on top, your head next to his. He pats your hair over your ear, pebbling your forehead and eyelids in kisses. His cock twitched in your spent heat, cum leaking out and dripping down to his balls and on the bed.

"Glad I—could...help..." you mumbled, eyes already closed as you drifted into sleep.

His softening dick slipped from your pussy, warm hands wiping you with his shirt before settling you gently on a pillow. He watched the gentle rise and fall of your breaths, naked and fast alseep on his bed. He pulled his sheets higher to your shoulder, his heart beating faster at the way you snuggled further into his pillow.

Frankie stared at the ceiling for hours, hand on his forehead in anguish, wondering how the fuck he was supposed to tell you it wasn't cocaine he was craving last night.

- - - -

Part 2: Crash

Series masterlist

#pedro pascal smut #francisco morales #frankie morales smut #triple frontier smut #triple frontier #frankie morales #catfish morales #catfish morales smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish morlaes smut #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #catfish morales x reader

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beskarandblasters · 5 months

Text

Bluffing Season

Enemies to Lovers!Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Author’s note: Ya know like “cuffing season” lmao!! Thank you to @pascalispretty, @fhatbhabie, and @hyzer34 for beta reading! 🤍

Summary: Frankie Morales is your next door neighbor of the worst kind. To put it simply, you two can’t stand each other. But when his girlfriend breaks up with him right before the holidays he asks you to be his fake date for Christmas, not wanting to go home to his family single yet again. You reluctantly say yes and as you spend time with him you realize he’s not as terrible as you once thought.

Word count: 14.6k (what the fuck lol)

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, reader is a baker, two years post Triple Frontier, slow burn, enemies to lovers, fake dating, jealousy, made up lore for Frankie/his family tree, reader lowkey got mommy issues (just a shitty family in general), drinking, mentions of drugs, food/eating, Frankie describing his trauma, some Spanish used, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, pet names (cariño), sort of ambiguous time skips, Frankie is either a Libra or a Scorpio!!, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Late October

Beep Beep Beep

Ugh. Another shit start to your day with shit sleep as per usual. Running your own bakery means a lot of early mornings. Normally you don’t mind waking up early since you love what you do. You bought a new house on Magnolia Drive eight months ago which made your commute to the bakery much shorter. However… Your realtor neglected to tell you that it came with the worst neighbor on the face of the Earth. His name is Frankie and you can’t stand him. When you first moved in, he seemed normal, an ex-military, single guy living on his own. The deception didn’t last long, though. Because after about two weeks of living next to him, the shitstorm commenced. And now you wished you picked literally any other house in this city. His friends are at his house all the time, one of them always blocking your driveway with their pickup truck. They stay until at least four in the morning, blasting music when Frankie knows you have to work early the next day. He’s probably the worst neighbor in the entire state of Florida.

You’re getting in your car to start your morning commute for work when Frankie is grabbing the morning paper from his mailbox. You physically recoil when you see him. There’s a harsh line of demarcation separating your lawn from his because he cuts his grass once in a blue moon. It’s such an eyesore.

“Have you thought about, I don’t know, cutting your lawn?” you ask before shutting your car door.

He shoots you the middle finger and mouths something you can’t hear. You roll down the window for him to take a few steps closer to your car and repeat, “Stop feeding the fucking stray cats.”

Okay, maybe you aren’t the perfect neighbor either. But doesn’t he deserve it anyway?

“Bite me,” you respond, rolling your eyes and backing out of your driveway.

He rolls his eyes, too, and storms off. You giggle to yourself, feeling proud that you got a rise out of him. If he’s going to piss you off the least you could do is return the favor.

Work is fine, a little busier than normal. But the afternoon exhaustion is hitting. You can’t wait to go home, take a shower, and maybe get some sleep before Frankie’s friends come over. It’s Friday and they’ll be even more unruly than they normally are during the week. Don’t they have lives? Or like… a fucking family to go home to?? Probably not if they’re hanging out with the likes of him.

But alas, it’s finally time to go home. You close up the bakery and get in your car to drive back, excited to just melt into the couch for a few hours. As you turn onto your street you see that Frankie’s driveway is empty, for now, that is. He’s not outside, either. So that means you get to just slip inside your house without a hostile interaction for once. Score!

You pull into your driveway, get out of your car, and start walking towards your front door when a disgruntled voice stops you dead in your tracks.

“Hey!”

Not again.

“What do you want now?” you say, whipping around and using the bitchiest voice you can muster.

“Cut your fucking tree,” Frankie says, holding up a lemon.

…Is he fucking for real?

You have a lemon tree at the edge of your backyard and a few branches hang over the fence and into Frankie’s yard. You never thought to trim it because you assumed you were doing something nice for him, letting him have some of the lemons. But no, apparently he wants to complain about free fruit.

“You’re complaining about… free fruit?”

He stutters a bit, tripping on his words as if he just realized how stupid he sounds.

“I guess not.”

“That’s what I thought,” you say, turning and heading into your house.

The fucking nerve of that man.

The rest of the night is pretty uneventful aside from a bitter man complaining about free fruit. You hear Frankie’s friends next door and grumble to yourself. How do they have the energy to party every single day of the week? You turn in early and do your best to ignore how loud they are, getting ready for another busy day at the bakery. Tomorrow’s Saturday, the busiest day of the week, and you need to be well rested. Well rested as you can be with all the noise from next door.

The morning’s been typical so far; wake up feeling exhausted, argue with Frankie in the driveway, drive to work, open the bakery; and the usual stuff. It isn’t until halfway through your business hours that something… interesting happens. A woman enters the shop and browses the cakes in your display case.

“I’d like to get some writing on a cake.”

“Sure! Which one would you like?”

“That one,” she says, pointing to one on the bottom, a vanilla cake with vanilla buttercream and strawberries in the middle.

“Okay,” you say, grabbing it out of the case and taking it to your decorating table, “What would you like it to say?”

“Well, it’s for my boyfriend, Frankie so I’d like it to say “Happy birthday, Franklin” with a fish. I guess his nickname was catfish in the military.”

You know for a fact this is for Frankie because of the nickname. You’ve heard his friends screaming it next door when they’re drunk. But you also know for a fact his name is not Franklin, it’s Francisco. You didn’t have to ask him or anything, Amazon has delivered some of his packages to your house in the past by mistake. So this is fucking hilarious.

“Any specific color for the writing?” you ask, stifling a chuckle.

“Black is fine.”

You get to work on the writing and have mixed feelings. It’s kinda shitty that his own girlfriend doesn’t know his full name. And it’s also shitty that he’s going to have a birthday cake at his party with the wrong name on it. You should feel bad but… Nah, this guy sucks.

You glance over at his girlfriend before moving on to the fish. Although she clearly doesn’t know her boyfriend that well at all, you can’t deny that she’s beautiful. And all of a sudden you’re feeling… jealous? Wait, why are you getting jealous of her? For a guy you can’t even stand?

You gotta finish decorating this cake and get her out of here so you can try to deal with your conflicting feelings. You package the cake back up and walk it to the counter to cash her out.

“Okay, your total is fifty-three forty-nine. Cash or card?”

“Card,” she says, tapping it on the counter.

The receipt prints out of the machine for her to sign but before you hand it to her you look at the name printed on the bottom; Heather Ryan.

“Okay, just need your signature and then you’re all set!”

She signs her name on the receipt and slides it back to you.

“It looks great! Thank you so much!” she says before grabbing the cake and leaving.

Now that she’s gone you can process your weird and sudden emotions. You didn’t know he had a girlfriend and to be honest, it kind of surprises you that he has one in the first place considering his… lifestyle. But why are you jealous? He’s the worst.

Although… When you first moved in, you did think he was kinda cute before he showed his true colors. He got you with his curly brown hair peeking out underneath his hat but the attraction didn’t last long. Once his antic began, the attraction dissipated.

…Or so you thought.

Stop it, you tell yourself. He has made your life hell for the better part of a year.

You bury down your weird and confusing feelings for now, trying to continue the rest of the day as normal. The rest of the day is pretty uneventful and soon enough five o’clock rolls around. Just as you’re locking up the bakery, you get a text from your friend, Ally.

Hey, bestieee!! Drinks tonight?

You know what, why not?

You respond with:

Oooh, what time and where?

You get in your car and drive home, excited to have something to look forward to tonight. And at least you’ll be gone for some of Frankie’s antics. As you pull into your driveway you notice his friends aren’t there yet, all the better for you. You check your phone and Ally says;

7:30. Let’s go to the Harp tonight!! I’ll meet you there.

She’s referring to a bar downtown but to you, it honestly doesn’t matter where you go. You need to blow off some steam and work through your weird feelings with your friend, get her opinion on this random burst of jealousy you’re feeling.

You take a shower, change into a skirt and fitted tee, and do your makeup before getting ready to leave. Just to find one of Frankie’s friends blocking your driveway, of course. Why wouldn’t they do this shit on the one night you have plans?

Nah, this isn’t going to fly. You gotta say something. You march right over to his door and judging by the noise coming from inside, his birthday party is tonight. Alright, maybe you won’t be a huge bitch about this right now. Especially when you know how his birthday cake turned out…

You knock and someone other than Frankie answers the door. You recognize him as one of Frankie’s friends but you can put a name to his face.

“Oh, shit! Neighbor girl is here!” he says, calling out to Frankie over his shoulder.

Before you can ask him about the truck blocking your driveway he says, “I’m Benny. Come on in!”

Yeah, he’s clearly drunk. Whatever this will be quick. You reluctantly step inside and look around. You’ve never actually been inside Frankie’s house before. It’s honestly nicer than you expected considering his lifestyle and the way he keeps his lawn. You’re standing in his living room with Frankie and three other men. You’re feeling anxious all of a sudden but you don’t show it. Who knows what Frankie said about you to these guys?

“Look who it is, Fish!” Benny says, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Guys, this is my neighbor,” Frankie says. He looks a little… nervous? You’ve never seen him like this before.

“I’m Santiago,” a man with dark hair says, shaking your hand.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, forcing a fake smile.

“And this is Will,” Santiago continues, gesturing to a man with short blond hair.

“You got anyone else coming, Fish?” Santiago asks, turning towards Frankie, “What about Heather?”

“Uh, she’s not coming.”

“Shit, man. Is everything alright?”

“We’re fine. But actually, can you help me with something in the kitchen?” Frankie asks, making eye contact with you. He looks bothered, like there’s something he wants to say but isn’t letting it come out.

“Sure,” you reply, following him to the kitchen where he opens the refrigerator. The cake is sitting on the shelf in its box and your stomach drops. Poor guy.

He grabs the cake from the refrigerator and sets it on the kitchen counter.

“Can you help fix this? She put the wrong name,” he says, opening the lid to reveal the cake you decorated earlier today.

“I can try. Can you get me a butter knife?”

He opens his silverware drawer and hands you a knife.

“Well, I think I can smear out the name and make a swirly pattern around the happy birthday?”

“Whatever you have to do,” he says softly.

You take the knife and swipe away the “Franklin”, making a tie-dye design on the cake but stopping at the fish.

“You want me to leave the fish?”

“Nah, scrap it. Catfish is pretty much the only thing she knew about me anyway,” he says dejectedly.

“Right…” you respond awkwardly, swiping away your hard work from earlier. You can only assume he doesn’t know this birthday cake is from your bakery. But you fix the cake the best you can so it just says “Happy Birthday” with a swirly design.

“That better?”

“Yes. Thank you,” he says, letting out a sigh, “I just didn’t want them to see it.”

“I get that-”

“Let’s get this fucking party started!” Benny says, entering the kitchen and slamming a six-pack of beer on the counter.

“Oh, actually I have to go-” you start.

“What?? No way, you gotta stay,” Benny says, putting an arm around your shoulders.

You could stay and just cancel your plans with Ally. But this is Frankie’s birthday party and you weren’t exactly invited. And you’re both aware of how much you painfully dislike each other. You look at Frankie, searching his eyes for an indication of how he’s feeling.

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” he says softly.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna impose.”

“Nooo, stay,” Benny says, looking at you with a wide grin on his face.

“By all means,” Frankie says.

“Fuck yeah,” Benny says, “Can I get you a drink? We have all sorts of shit.”

“Hard cider?”

“A woman with taste. I like it,” he says, removing the arm around your shoulders and opening the refrigerator.

You pull out your phone to text Ally. It has to be something inconspicuous. She knows you hate Frankie with a passion so you can’t exactly say you’re partying with him and his friends right now. Maybe just lie and say you’re sick?

You do exactly that, saying your stomach is bothering you. Just as you press send, Benny’s hanging you your hard cider. And now it’s just the three of you in Frankie’s kitchen, standing around awkwardly.

“I have some of the MMA guys coming, too. That alright?” Benny says.

“Fine with me. The more the merrier,” Frankie smiles. But the smile seems forced.

Just Frankie says that there’s a knock on the door and it’s the guys Benny was referring to. A handful of men pile into Frankie’s living room with Will and Santiago, and now you’re the only girl here. And also sort of regretting your decision to cancel on Ally.

“Let me introduce to you some of my friends!” Benny says cheerfully, grabbing your hand and leading you back to the living room. You exchange hello’s with Benny’s friends, a group of four guys whose names you can’t really be bothered to remember.

Soon enough the folding table is pulled out and all of the guys are playing beer pong. You decide to just stand and watch, sipping your drink and keeping to yourself… except for Benny, who has been by your side all night. At first, it was kind of annoying but now that you’re talking to him he’s actually pretty cute. Or it’s just the alcohol talking.

“Can I get you another drink?” he asks when yours is empty.

“Sure,” you smile, handing the empty bottle to him.

Now that you’re alone for a moment your eyes are scanning the room again, and they lock eyes with Frankie, who’s playing beer pong but not really paying attention. Benny comes back with your drink, handing it to you and leaning against the wall with his arm raised over his head.

“Frankie never mentioned just how gorgeous you are.”

“Oh! Thank you,” you respond, caught you off guard. You’re feeling awkward, not knowing what to say back so your eyes are searching the room again. And once again, they lock with Frankie’s, whose eyes are… angry? But why is he angry? Is he… jealous? Nah, no way. He has a girlfriend. But she’s also proved herself to be shitty. And besides that, you two hate each other. Unless… you really don’t?

You decide to do a little experiment. Benny is super hot, but maybe you could turn up the flirting a bit and see just how jealous Frankie gets.

And that’s exactly what you do. You’re laughing at all Benny’s jokes, falling for every cheesy pickup line, doing the thing where you look from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up to his eyes, literally anything to flirt. And even though it’s for an experiment, you’re having fun and you could actually see yourself maybe liking Benny.

You look over at Frankie, and to your surprise (and also delight?), he’s looking directly at you. His eyes are almost pleading with you. But at the end of the day, you don’t owe him anything. And he’s taken. So why stop all the fun?

“I just can’t believe this is the first time we’re meeting,” Benny says, shaking his head.

“I didn’t know Frankie had such nice friends!” you respond.

Benny leans a little closer to you, his eyes fixed on your lips. Oh shit, is he really gonna kiss you? Right here? Right now? In front of everyone?

But also… why not?

You lean forward more too, inching closer and closing the gap between you two. Just as your lips are about to meet, Santiago shouts, “Jesus, Fish! What are you doing?!”

You pull away from each other and look at what’s going on. It seems that Frankie royally screwed up the round of beer pong because he and Santiago just lost.

“Alright, alright. Don’t yell at the birthday boy,” Will laughs.

Santiago sighs and says, “Best two out of three?”

The other men shrug but Frankie excuses himself, saying, “I need another drink.”

You can’t help but feel like that was your fault. Shit, maybe Frankie does have some sort of crush on you? Because why else would he get jealous over his friend flirting with you? Wouldn’t he want that to happen, as a means of burying the hatchet between you two?

“I have to use the bathroom,” you say to Benny.

“Down the hall on your right,” he says.

You set your drink down on the coffee table and walk through the kitchen, but before you head to the bathroom you take a look at Frankie, who’s sipping a beer and looking at his birthday cake. A look of confusion and uncertainty on his face. You just can’t help but feel bad for him in some sort of weird way. But there’s also a nagging feeling deep down inside you that’s telling you that you shouldn’t feel bad for him. This guy has been nothing but a complete asshole to you. Why do you care so much about his feelings?

You head down to the bathroom and pull out your phone. There’s a text from Ally and thankfully she wasn’t upset about the plans getting canceled. But you look at the time and decide, you should just go home. Besides, it’s getting a little boring watching the men play beer pong and you’re running out of things to talk about with Benny.

You head back into the living room and say to Benny, “I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Aw, okay. I’ll catch you later. But maybe you can come to one of my matches sometime?”

“I’d like that,” you smile.

You poke your head into the kitchen and tell Frankie you’re leaving.

“Happy birthday by the way,” you say.

He nods and waves his hand a little before you bid your goodbyes to everyone else and walk next door. And the only thought on your mind is… What the hell just happened?

You flop down on your couch and the room feels like it’s spinning, your mind swirling with all sorts of thoughts and emotions. You’re feeling a weird mix of confusion, pity, and also… apathy? You run through the basics:

1. Frankie’s girlfriend sucks.

2. It’s shitty that his birthday cake was messed up.

3. You really don’t mind Benny at all and can see yourself liking him.

4. At the end of the day, Frankie is still an asshole.

And that trumps everything else, no matter how bad you feel for him.

Mid-December

Several weeks have gone by and you haven’t seen much of Frankie, or his friends for that matter. Lately, it feels like you've been living at the bakery twenty-four-seven. Especially since Thanksgiving just ended. But that also means you’re heading into another busy season; Christmas time.

The holidays are your least favorite time of year. But running your own bakery means that you get to keep busy during the holidays. It’s always the perfect excuse for when your mother calls and asks why you’re not coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. You can usually get out of one and not the other. This year you skipped Thanksgiving so you’ll be due home for Christmas… unless you can think of another excuse to stay home again. But then you’ll get another phone call from your father claiming that “you’re breaking your mother’s heart” or whatever.

From what you can tell, Frankie stayed home for Thanksgiving, too. Though you don’t know if his family is around here or not. His friends didn’t come over for Thanksgiving so you assume they were with their own families respectively. And you’re not really sure what happened with his girlfriend. So the two of you were just… alone that day. For some reason, the thought makes you kind of… sad? But like you told yourself weeks ago, don’t feel bad for Frankie, like at all.

But now that you’re thinking of Frankie… he’s been his typical self, but maybe scaled back a bit? His lawn hasn’t been cut in God knows how long and his friends still come over to party here and there. But it’s definitely been a lot less than usual. Maybe the holidays are tough for him, too.

Just as you’re leaving to go open the bakery the week before Christmas, you get a phone call from your mom. You sigh and roll your eyes because you already know what this is about. And you’ve been dreading this phone call since Thanksgiving.

“Yes, mom?” you say as you answer the phone.

“Is that any way to answer a phone call from your mother?” she says. God, you can already feel the judgment and disappointment seeping from her voice, even over the phone.

“Ah, sorry Mom. How are you?”

“I’m just calling to see if we can expect you home for Christmas this year.”

“Uhh-”

“You know, since you broke your mother’s heart and didn’t come home for Thanksgiving.”

“I think.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy, uh, with the bakery and all.”

“That’s always the excuse. I’m getting sick of your shit. I need a straight answer as to whether or not you’ll be home for Christmas now.”

As you open your mouth to respond, probably with some poorly thought-out rebuttal since you’re so heated, you spot Frankie walking across his lawn toward you. Perfect escape from this phone call maybe?

“Shit sorry Mom. Gotta go. My neighbor’s coming up to me.”

As you pull the phone away from your ear and hang up, you hear your mom’s angry protests. But you’re too focused on Frankie to care. Because what could he want with you now? You haven’t done anything to piss him off lately. That you can remember anyway…

“Hey,” he says with a shaky breath.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly.

“I need to ask you for a favor.”

“Okay…”

“Feel free to say no because it’s weird but I don’t know what else to do. And I’m sorry to drop this on you but-”

“Spit it out.”

“Will you come home with me for Christmas as my date? It would be fake, of course.”

Oh. You definitely weren’t expecting that to be the favor he needed. And for some reason him adding in “it would be fake, of course” is so funny. It’s so funny that you actually burst out into a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re not being serious.”

“I am.”

“But… why?”

“My girlfriend broke up with me right before Thanksgiving.”

“Let me get this straight. She put the wrong name on your birthday cake and you let her break up with you first?”

“It’s not funny.”

“I know it’s not.”

“So, you’ll help me?”

“Why can’t you just go home alone?”

“Because I can’t go home for another holiday alone. I already skipped Thanksgiving. My family’s always pestering me about settling down and I can’t take it anymore.”

“What’s in it for me?” you sigh.

“Uh, you don’t have to go home to your shitty family? I mean I’m just assuming from that phone call you just had.”

“Yeah and instead I get to go home to yours?”

“My family’s not shitty. They’re nothing like me.”

You can’t lie to yourself and say that the offer isn’t tempting. Because as soon as you mention the word “boyfriend” to your mother she’ll be all over it. Like Frankie’s family, your mom’s been pestering you to settle down, too. If you offer her some sort of crumb to give her the indication that you’re finally “settling down” maybe she’ll leave you alone for once.

“Just think about it,” Frankie says while you’re contemplating his offer to himself.

He turns to walk back to his house but you stop him before he goes anywhere.

“Wait!”

He turns around to face you again with a hopeful look in his eye. You can’t believe you’re actually agreeing to this.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess it beats going home to my family.”

“Thank you,” he says, pulling you in for a hug.

“Alright, the fake relationship hasn’t started yet,” you say, wincing at his embrace.

“Shit, you’re right,” he says, pulling away.

“How long are we there?”

“From the twenty-third until New Year’s. That okay with you? I know you have the bakery and all…”

It’s a little earlier than you prefer to close and it’s quite a long time to be gone but you suppose you can make do. Maybe you can catch a short flight home if you need to be back to the bakery by then?

“Yeah, fine with me. Where does your family live?”

“Savannah, Georgia.”

Oof, five hours in Frankie’s truck, just the two of you… But it’s worth it.

“Okay,” you sigh.

“Great. Thank you so much. We’ll leave around ten, okay?”

“Alright. Sounds like a plan.”

“Oh, one more thing. Can you bake something?”

You let out a sigh. “Yeah, sure. I’ll think of what to make.”

“Thanks again,” he says, putting his hands together like he’s praying before turning and walking back to his house. You’re left in your driveway questioning all your life choices that led up to this moment. But now you get to call your mom and tell her about this mysterious boyfriend you just happened upon.

You get in the car to leave for work and call your mom again, making sure to act a bit more pleasant this time.

“Hello?”

“Hey, mom,” you say, putting on your cheeriest voice.

“What happened with your neighbor?”

“Oh, nothing. He just had a package for me. Got delivered to his house by accident.”

“Oh, okay. So are you coming home for Christmas or what?”

“Actually, I’m not. I’m sorry. But I have a good reason?”

“And that is?”

“I’m going to my boyfriend’s family’s Christmas.”

“Boyfriend? You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

“Uhh, it’s sort of new.”

“What’s his name?”

“Frankie.”

“Well, don’t fuck this one up. I want to meet him after Christmas, okay?”

Classic mom. She always has to make this about how much you suck.

“Of course. I’ll talk to you later, though. I gotta go open up the bakery.”

“Alright. Love you, bye.”

“Love you, too. Bye.”

That’s the best phone call you’ve had with your mom in a while. Maybe pretending to date Frankie will be a good thing?

It’s time to go. You're dressed in a comfy outfit for the drive. Everything’s packed and ready to go. You decided to make lemon bars from the lemon tree in your backyard. They’re packed away neatly in your to-go container. You head outside with all of your bags and Frankie meets you in your hard to help you.

“Jesus, did you pack the kitchen sink, too?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” you say, rolling your eyes.

You’re already questioning why you said yes to this. But then your mother’s nagging voice is deep in the back of your mind.

It’s better than going home, you tell yourself.

You get into the passenger seat and Frankie backs out of the driveway. You look at his lawn out the window as you leave. Still not cut, of course.

For the first thirty minutes of the drive, it’s painfully silent. Until Frankie says, “You let me know if you need to stop to pee or something.”

“Okay…” you say awkwardly.

Another fifteen minutes goes by and he breaks the silence again.

“You know, if we want to sell this we have to act like a real couple.”

You were dreading this conversation.

“Yeah…”

“For one, we’ll probably gonna be sharing a bed.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And we have to act like we somewhat like each other when we’re not alone.”

“I know,” you sigh.

“Think you can do that?”

“I said yes to this, didn’t I?”

“Right…”

You can’t sit through another uncomfortable silence again. You’ve still got like four more hours of this drive to go.

“I guess we have to get to know each other.”

“Right. So what do you do? Oh fuck, I know you have the bakery but I meant tell me about it.”

“Uhh, right. I opened it four years ago. I just make desserts, like pastries and shit.”

“Gotcha.”

“What about you?”

“I used to be in the Army, specifically the Delta Force.”

“Oh, wow. How long were you in the Army?”

“I joined right after I got out of high school.”

“Long time,” you comment, “When did you leave?”

“About three years ago. I was just a pilot for a while.”

“Gotcha. What do you do now?”

“Not much. I’ve been living off my pension for the past two years after some shit happened.”

“We don’t have to talk about-”

“Our friend passed.”

“Oh, Frankie. I’m sorry.”

He says nothing more and you’re so curious for more information but you don’t want to pry either. It falls silent again and then you decide to pry for more information about a less heavy topic.

“So… if you don’t mind me asking, what happened with your girlfriend?”

“She broke up with me two days before Thanksgiving.”

“That’s rough. What did you tell your family?”

“I pretended I was sick.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Don’t be. I probably should’ve ended things a while ago. I don’t think she had any idea about who I really am.”

“Right.”

“She didn’t even know my full name.”

The cake that you made.

“Yeah…”

“She put the wrong name and didn’t even get a cake I like.”

“About that.”

“Hm?”

“Do you know where she got that cake from?”

“No.”

“She came to my store.”

“…Did you know it was the wrong name?”

“Well yes, but what was I supposed to say? She’s the customer. I can't correct her. I just have to write what she ordered.”

“I know…” he sighs.

“Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that she was the wrong person for you, okay?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I felt bad making it.”

“You did?”

“I mean, it’s kinda shitty if your girlfriend doesn’t know your name, right?” You chuckle.

“Right again,” he nods, looking over at you from the driver's seat.

“So what kind of cake do you like then?” you ask.

“Chocolate. I’m a simple guy.”

“Noted. So now I know Frankie Morales used to be in the Army, used to be a pilot, and likes chocolate cake. Anything else I need to know?”

“That about sums me up I guess.”

“Oh, come on! There’s more to you than that. What do you like to do for fun? Besides partying.”

“Oh, uh, I like to play poker with my friends. I’m into cars. And we’ll go support Benny at some of his matches. That’s pretty much all I do these days.”

“And also not cutting your lawn.”

“Listen-”

“And complaining about free fruit,” you tease.

“Alright, alright. I know I haven’t been the best neighbor in the past.”

“Uh-huh,” you say sarcastically.

“I guess after what happened I went down a spiral. And I was just… selfish for a while. Only caring about what I wanted to do and not thinking how it affects others.”

“That’s fair. You went through something traumatic.”

He opens his mouth to say something else but no words come out. It feels like he’s hiding something or not telling the full truth. And he wants to tell you, but he feels just can’t, that you’re not ready for that just yet.

It’s silent again and this time you find yourself dozing off with your cheek pressed up against the cool glass window. Somehow you’re able to fall asleep to Frankie’s music that he put on to fill the silence. You recognize it’s a Tom Petty song, but as you’re trying to put your finger on just what song it is, sleep fully overtakes you.

You were only out for about an hour and a half. It’s hard to sleep for long periods in a truck. As you open your eyes and stretch a little, Frankie says, “Wake up, sleepyhead. You’re officially the worst co-pilot in the world.”

“Whatever,” you say sarcastically, also while stifling back a yawn.

“I’m just teasing. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“It’s fine. I probably shouldn’t sleep for too long anyway. It’ll mess up my sleep schedule.”

“Oof, my sleep schedule is pretty fucked up.”

You glare at him from the passenger seat. But he doesn’t get why, looking at you and going “What?” with a shrug.

“I noticed,” you say coldly.

Everyone knows the best time to air your grievances with each other is when you’re trapped in a moving vehicle together!

“Okay… Why do you seem mad?”

“You and your friends are just… loud.”

“Oh.”

“And I have to be up early in the mornings to open the store.”

“Oh,” he says again like the realization is hitting him.

“It’s alright…” you say awkwardly, even though it’s not.

“It’s not alright. I wasn’t being considerate.”

“I know, but I didn’t say anything either.”

“You sure said something about my lawn,” he teases.

“Because it’s a fucking eyesore, Francisco!”

“Be honest. You just wanted to see me mowing the lawn with my shirt off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t lie! I saw the way you looked at me when you first moved in.”

“Oh, shut up!” you say, playfully slapping him on the arm.

“You’re not denying it,” he says with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Maybe I thought you were cute when I first moved in. Didn’t last long, though.”

“I know,” he sighs, “I’m trying to be better. Ironically enough I think Heather dumping me was what I needed.”

“I think so, too.”

Before either of you can say anything else, Frankie’s passing a sign indicating there’s a rest stop ahead.

“Can we stop? I have to pee,” you say.

“Sure thing,” he says, pulling off the highway and into the rest stop parking lot.

“Meet you back here?” you say, opening the door.

“I’ll go with you. All sorts of seedy characters hang out at rest stops,” he says, getting out of the car and walking around to your side.

He helps you get out of the truck and walks inside with you, placing a hand on the small on your back as you cross the parking lot. His head’s in a constant swivel, eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble.

“I think I’ll take it from here,” you say, stopping in front of the women’s restroom.

“I’ll be waiting here,” he nods.

You nod back and look at what he’s wearing; a burgundy t-shirt with a black zip-up sweatshirt, gray sweatpants, and of course the Standard Oil cap. Now that you’re starting to see Frankie for who he really is… you don’t mind him at all? Seven months ago you never thought this would’ve happened, that you’d actually be civil with him. Maybe you just had to give him a chance.

You do your business and walk back out to the lobby to meet Frankie. He’s on high alert, standing stiff as a board and taking in all of his surroundings. Until he sees you and his face lights up.

“I got us some stuff for the road!” he says cheerfully, holding up a plastic bag.

You look inside the bag and “some stuff” was an understatement. It looks like Frankie bought out the entire store. There are bottles of water, soda, different kinds of chips, candy, and gum- you name it, he bought it.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked. So I just got a few different things,” he says, most likely noticing how wide your eyes got.

“Thanks, Frankie. That was sweet of you.”

“Do you need anything else before we get back on the road?”

“I think I’m all set,” you nod.

You walk back to the truck with him and he does the same thing he did before, placing a hand on your back as you cross the parking lot. He opens your door for you and you take the bag from him once you’re settled in your seat. He gets back into the driver seat and soon enough, you’re back on the road.

“So I should probably prepare you for meeting my family,” he says, reaching for a Slim Jim in the bag.

“Oh god, why?”

“They’re not bad. They’re just… a lot? But they mean well.”

“Okay.”

“So you have my mother, Rosa, and my father Francisco Sr. But he passed away when I was twenty.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I have three older sisters.”

“You’re the baby of the family?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing. It just tracks.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks. My sisters are Ria, Isabel, and Laura. Ria is married to Emmanuel and they have two kids, Luna and Camila. They’re college-aged. And then Isabel is with her wife, Aurora.”

“Okay,” you respond, mentally trying to keep track of all this.

“And then Laura is married to Rafael and they have three kids, Sofia, Anthony, and Marcelo. Sofia is twelve. I think Anthony’s nine or ten. And Marcelo is four. He’s my favorite.”

“Frankie! You’re not supposed to have favorites.”

“It’s not like I tell them that. I also have two aunts, Aunt Linda and Aunt Maggie. They’re my mother’s sisters. And then my Uncle Tommy, he’s my dad’s brother. And then there’s Cousin Ben, he’s Tommy’s son, around my age.”

You’re doing mental gymnastics, trying to memorize everyone’s names, ages, and who they’re married to.

“Got all that?” Frankie says with a smirk, noticing the puzzled expression on your face.

“I think so?”

“Don’t worry. Everyone will introduce themselves when we get there. They’re not gonna leave you alone so sorry about that in advance.”

“It’s alright. It beats going home to my family.”

“What are they like? I’m assuming they’re… not good if you don’t want to go home for the holidays.”

“Yeah, you’ve got it pretty much. My mom is super overbearing and nitpicking. I can’t do anything, or wear anything, or even say anything without her giving her two cents. My dad just sits there and lets her spew her bullshit without a filter. And then my younger sister, Erica, is just… perfect. She can’t do anything wrong in their eyes.”

“That sounds tough.”

“It is. I stopped going home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. I try to just do one each year but I can’t take it anymore.”

“I understand,” Frankie says softly.

“My sister’s in medical school to be a cardiologist. So to my parents, running a bakery just doesn’t compare.”

“That’s stupid. Don’t they know how hard it is to run your own business?”

“No, and they probably don’t care to be honest.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright. Thanks for getting me a way out of Christmas this year, though.”

“Of course. You’re doing me a big favor.”

The rest of the drive goes smoothly and eventually, you’re pulling into Frankie’s parents' house in Savannah. The second Frankie’s truck is in the driveway, an older woman, probably his mother, is running out of the front door and into the driveway. He parks the truck and you get out to meet her. She immediately pulls Frankie into a big hug.

“My baby’s home!!,” she says, embracing him and placing her hands on the back of his head.

“You and that damn hat,” she says, “You have such beautiful hair, mijo. Why do you hide it?”

“You know I like the hat, Ma.”

She pulls away and her eyes are immediately on you. You’re nervous about her first impression of you, even though you’re not even Frankie’s girlfriend. But she thinks you are and you need to play the part.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” she says, pulling into a hug, too. She gives the best hugs, rubbing your back and swaying just a little, even though you just met.

“I want you to be comfortable here, okay? My house is your house,” she says, pulling back and grabbing your hands.

“Thank you so much for having me in your home, Mrs. Morales,” you smile.

“Please! Call me Rosa. Let Francisco get the bags and we’ll go inside, yeah?”

“Okay,” you nod, following her inside the house.

It’s a beautiful home, decorated to the nines with the Christmas spirit. She leads you to her living film where there are pictures of everyone Frankie mentioned on the way here. On the coffee table, there’s one of Frankie’s parents with him and his sisters. You can really see the resemblance there between him and his mom. They have the same warm brown eyes and dimples.

“You have a beautiful home, Rosa,” you tell her, sitting on the couch next to her.

“Thank you, honey,” she says, “Tell me about yourself. It’s so hard to get Francisco on the phone these days. I feel like I know nothing about you.”

“I live in Tampa like Frankie. We don’t live too far from each other And I run a bakery.”

“Wow, good for you. It’s hard running your own business. Your parents must be very proud.”

“They are,” you say, lying through your teeth.

“How has my son been? He’s been a little off since he lost Tom in Colombia two years ago. He’s not doing drugs again, is he?”

“Oh! No, to my knowledge, he isn’t?” you respond, stumbling over your words. That was a lot of information to take in, most of it Frankie hasn’t told you about yet.

“That’s good,” she sighs, “I worry about him.”

“I get it. But I think he’s on an upward trajectory.”

“Thank you, honey. I know he’s a lot to put up with.”

Frankie meets you in the living room and plops down on an armchair across from the couch, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Tired?” you chuckle.

“Yeah,” he pants, “Someone had to pack everything they own and the kitchen sink, too.”

“Francisco! You grew up with all women. Don’t you know this is how we are?” his mother says.

“Yeah, Frankie,” you add sarcastically.

“You two are gonna be the death of me,” he says, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes.

“Where did you put the lemon bars?”

“In the refrigerator.”

“You made lemon bars? Francisco told me you liked to bake.”

“Yeah!” you say, turning towards her again, “I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

“Why don’t you both help me prepare dinner for tomorrow night? After you rest, of course. You had a long drive.”

“Oh, yeah. I need a nap,” Frankie says, getting up from the chair and heading up the stairs.

“Get some rest, honey,” she says, gesturing towards the stairs.

“Okay,” you say, feeling a little awkward that you’re supposed to just go lay in a bed with Frankie.

Frankie’s waiting for you at the top of the stairs, smiling down at you. For some reason the sight makes your heart skip a beat. You meet him upstairs and he leads you to his childhood bedroom. His walls are blue and his bookshelves are filled with baseball trophies from when he was a kid up until high school. There are a few car posters scattered on his ealls. The bags are at the foot of his bed that’s tucked away in the corner of his room and thankfully, it’s not a twin-sized bed. Across the room is his desk, a few comic books stacked in a messy pile like he never left.

“This is my room,” he says, gesturing vaguely to the space around him.

“Cute,” you say, walking around and eyeing some of the stuff he has on his shelves. There’s a picture in a frame of Frankie as a kid with presumably his father right after one of his baseball games. He was a cute kid, wearing a toothy grin with some holes for the baby teeth he lost.

“That’s my dad,” he says, noticing you looking at the picture.

“Now that I’m looking at him, I can’t tell who you look like more,” you comment.

“Definitely my dad,” he says.

You turn to look at him and realize he’s right. A lot of his facial features match his father’s, but his eyes- those are his mother’s.

“Are you tired?” he asks.

“A little,” you yawn.

“I don’t have to sleep in bed with you,” he says quickly.

“I thought you said we were going to? You know, to keep up appearances or something,” you say, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“Oh, right. Just making sure.”

He takes off his sweatshirt and his hat, his curls matted down from wearing it on his head all day. He sets them down on the desk and walks over to the bed, pulling back the comforter and slipping in between the sheets. He moves to the side closest to the wall, letting you have the outside and the wall with the outlet to charge your phone like a true gentleman. You crawl in beside him, lying down side by side, mere inches from each other.

“You don’t sleep naked, do you?”

He doesn’t say anything at first and you take that as a yes.

“…I won’t while we’re home.”

“Cool,” you say awkwardly, rolling on your side and closing your eyes.

“Goodnight?” he says.

“It’s just a nap, but sure. Goodnight, Frankie,” you chuckle.

…You do your best to fall asleep but to be honest, you’re freezing. You don’t really get why. You’re only a few hours north and Georgia doesn’t typically get too cold. Unless his mom has the air on or a window open; something. That doesn’t make sense, though. Don’t elderly people keep their houses entirely too hot?

“You’re shivering,” Frankie says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“What? No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I can see you shaking.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have to be cold.”

“What’s your solution then?”

“I could tell my mom to adjust the-”

“No, do not do that.”

“Or there’s the other option.”

“Uh huh…”

“I could hold you.”

“…You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind.”

“…Fine.”

You feel him scooch closer to you and all of a sudden his warm chest is pressed up against your back. The comforter lifts for a second before his muscular arm wraps around you, pulling you even closer towards him. You’re immediately feeling warmer. He’s like a human space heater or something.

“Better?”

“Y-Yeah. Thank you.”

As much as you hate to admit it, you’re much more comfortable now. However, there is one thing that’s keeping you from falling asleep. And that’s Frankie’s bulge presses right up against your ass.

…You don’t hate it, though. If anything it makes you feel… good? Knowing that you have that effect on him. Maybe he really was jealous weeks ago at his birthday party. All of this begs the question; when did his feelings for you begin?

Lost in thought and enveloped in Frankie’s body heat, you drift off to sleep.

You wake up an hour or so later to the doorbell ringing. Frankie wakes up, too, stretching and removing the arm that was slung over your waist. You already miss its absence.

Frankie’s mom is talking to someone at the door. And it sounds like she’s talking to… a pizza delivery guy?

Frankie rolls onto his back, stretching again and yawning. You fall onto your back, too, lying side by side.

“I think she ordered pizza,” Frankie says sleepily.

“That was nice of her.”

“Just so we don’t have to worry about making dinner tonight while we prepare tomorrow’s.”

“Make sense,” you reply, rolling out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor.

“Did you sleep well?” Frankie asks, sitting at the edge.

“I did. Thanks for keeping me warm.”

“You’re welcome but it wasn’t all for you, though.”

“Oh?” you ask, wondering if he could be referring to the hard-on he had while holding you…

“Yeah, I can’t sleep next to you if you’re shaking like a leaf.”

You roll your eyes and he chuckles, leading you down the hallway and down the stairs, straight into the kitchen where the pizza awaits.

“Dinner’s here!” Rosa says cheerfully, gesturing to the pizza boxes on the counter, “There’s a salad and garlic bread, too.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Frankie says, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and handing it to you.

“Thank you,” you say, “Are you sure you don’t want anything towards it?”

“Nonsense! When you’re in my house, I take care of you,” she says, waving you off.

A saint of a woman she is. Frankie’s lucky to have a mother like her. The three of you sit at the kitchen counter eating while Rosa talks about what Christmas Eve dinner will be.

“So tonight we’ll prepare the pasteles. And tomorrow we’ll do the rice and beans. Ria is bringing rolls. Laura’s bringing salad. And Isabel’s bringing flan.”

“Ooh, I love flan. I can make gingerbread cookies for Christmas Day, too,” you say, finishing your slice of pizza.

“Thank you, honey. We’ll have a great time tomorrow. And you’ll get to meet all of Frankie’s sisters.”

“How exciting,” you say looking over at Frankie.

“Frankie’s the baby of the family,” his mother says.

“I could tell,” you snicker.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“You just have little brother energy,” you shrug.

“What about you, dear?” his mom asks.

“It’s just me and my sister. I’m the oldest.”

“Well you have older sister energy, so how about that?”

“So I’m wiser and more responsible?”

“Whatever,” Frankie sighs.

“It’s true, Francisco. You can ask Ria.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll get right on that,” he says sarcastically, taking all your plates to the sink.

You clean up from dinner with Frankie before preparing the pasteles. You’re standing at the kitchen island, stuffing the pasteles and listening to Rosa tell stories about Frankie when he was a kid.

“He was my toughest kid to potty train,” she says, shaking her head.

“Mom!” Frankie says, shooting daggers at her with his glare.

“What? You were. And I have the pictures to prove it. For the first two years, you would only use the training potty. I’ll bring out the photo albums tomorrow.”

“No,” Frankie says quickly.

“Oh yes,” you laugh.

“Ughhh,” Frankie sighs while you and Rosa share a laugh.

Soon enough all of the pasteles are prepped for tomorrow and the kitchen is clean again.

“Thank you both for helping me. Now get some sleep! You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with this family.”

“Goodnight, Ma,” Frankie says, heading towards the stairs.

“Goodnight. Thank you again for everything,” you say to her.

“Of course, honey. See you in the morning!” she says.

As you’re heading up the stairs, she calls out to Frankie, “Francisco! Make sure you show her where the fresh towels are!”

“I will, Ma,” Frankie says, calling down the stairwell.

“You want to shower?”

Before you can respond he quickly adds, “Not with me of course.”

“I know,” you snort, “But sure. Where’s the bathroom?”

He leads you down the hallway and stops at a door on the right, opening to reveal a linen closet.

“Towels are here. Bathroom’s over here,” he says, pointing to a door directly across from the linen closet.

“Thanks,” you tell him, grabbing a towel and heading to the shower. You shut the door behind you and now that you’re alone for once, you let your mind wander…

What happened in Colombia? And what sort of drugs was Frankie on?

You turn on the shower and strip, letting the hot water run down your body as you think about all the possibilities. He did say he lost a friend. Maybe that’s what happened in Colombia. But that doesn’t explain the drugs.

A knock on the door brings you back to reality.

“Can I come in?” Frankie asks.

“Uhh-”

“I just have to brush my teeth. I won’t look.”

“I guess.”

He opens the door and enters the bathroom, keeping his word and looking away from the shower curtain. In fact, he looks at anything else in the bathroom but the shower curtain, picking up a bottle of Tylenol from the medicine cabinet and reading the warnings. You poke your head out of the shower, watching as he brushes his teeth and reads the label on the bottle. And there’s something so… cute about it, so endearing. And now that you think about it, you wouldn’t particularly mind if he saw you in the shower. You can’t believe you’re actually admitting this to yourself.

But before you know it he spits the sink and rinses his mouth, exiting the bathroom and leaving you with your confusing feelings yet again. You finish your shower and dry off, thinking about his mysterious past again. All of this strange information begs the question… What was he doing in Colombia in the first place? Does he have some dark secrets he’s hiding? And if so, how could he be so cute?

You look at the toilet and see that Frankie also brought you your pajamas, flannel Christmas pants, a short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of lacy underwear…

That means he went through your bag, which should make you mad but the fact he decided to bring you your pajamas so you didn’t have to walk down the cold hallway sopping wet is adorable.

You’ll ask him about his past later you decide. For now, he’s your cute pretend boyfriend and you’re going to live in that fantasy for a while.

Once you’re dry and dressed, you hang your towel up on a hook and walk back to Frankie’s room, where he’s tucked into bed waiting for you. You crawl into bed beside him, lying down on your side and feeling his warm embrace again. His arm returns around your waist and soon enough you’re falling asleep, comforted by his warmth and his scent.

The smell of food cooking downstairs wafts up to Frankie’s room, pleasantly waking you up. Frankie’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded neatly on his tummy.

You roll over and ask, “You okay?”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m fine. I think I’m just nervous.”

“Nervous for what? Your family sounds awesome.”

“They are. They can just be overwhelming, I guess.”

“I get it. It’ll be fine, though. Like you said, I don’t think they’ll leave me alone.”

“Right,” he says, shaking his head, “It’s stupid. Today’s gonna be fun.”

“Wanna help me with the gingerbread cookies?” you say, getting out of bed and stretching once your feet hit the floor.

“Sure,” he says, sitting at the edge and yawning, “Do you need to get anything for them?”

“I could just DoorDash some stuff. I don’t want to raid your mom’s kitchen.”

“Ah, she won’t mind. Let’s go downstairs.”

He stands up and stretches, the short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing lifting a little and exposing some of his tummy. His flannel pajama pants are hanging low on his hips and he’s got a little bed-head going on, his curls slightly matted in the back. God, he’s just so… cute. You can’t deny it any longer. As much as you don’t want it to be true, Frankie Morales is a cute man.

You follow him downstairs to the kitchen where his mother is cooking away, stirring different pots and pans on the stove.

“Good morning you two,” she smiles.

“Good morning,” you respond, “It smells amazing down here.”

“Thank you, honey.”

“Ma, I think we’re going to make the gingerbread cookies if we won’t be in your way.”

“Go ahead! By all means. Maybe you can decorate them with the kids tonight?”

“Good idea! Do you need me to get anything from the store?”

“Nonsense! I should have everything you need.”

“Told you,” Frankie says, opening a cabinet and looking through the shelves with you.

To your surprise, she has everything you need for the cookies. And as you sit down at the dining room table Frankie says, “This kitchen is always fully stocked.”

As you roll the dough you think about tonight, meeting the rest of Frankie’s family. You’re excited to meet them but you’re also wondering what you should wear. You packed a few different options for outfits because every family’s vibe is different. Your family tends to lean more formal when it comes to holidays but Frankie’s family could be the complete opposite.

“Frankie?” you ask, cutting the gingerbread men out with a cookie cutter.

“Yeah?”

“What does your family wear on Christmas? Like do they dress up?”

“Oh, we abandoned trying to look nice a long time ago. Especially once my sisters started having kids.”

“Oh, okay. So don’t dress up?”

“Nah.”

That makes you feel at least a little relieved. For some reason, you’re dying for them to like you. And you don’t even get why. You’re not Frankie’s girlfriend. There’s a large chance you’ll never see them again after you leave and go back to Florida.

Once the cookies are on the trays, you pop them in the oven and set a timer on your phone. Rosa’s just about finished with dinner for tonight and Frankie’s cleaning up the mess from the cookies. You look at the clock on the stove and ask, “What time is everyone coming?”

“Around five or so.”

It’s already two-thirty now. You should probably get ready soon, in case Rosa and Frankie need the shower.

“I’ll pull the cookies out if you want to go get ready,” Frankie says as if he read your mind.

“Oh okay, thanks. Fifteen more minutes.”

“Gotcha,” he says, leaning against the counter beside the stove.

You go upstairs and into Frankie’s room, going over all of your outfit choices in your head. You decide to wear option 3, light wash jeans and an emerald green sweater, nothing too fancy. You grab your clothes and your makeup and head to the bathroom, taking extra time to get ready. The timer on your phone for the cookies goes off and you hope Frankie remembers to take them out. You continue your shower, anxiously thinking about meeting the rest of his family.

Eventually, as you’re dressed and putting on your makeup, Frankie knocks on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Go ahead,” you say, leaning forward toward the mirror and putting on your mascara.

He opens the door and looks at you, practically bent over the sink.

“You look…”

“Huh?” you, turning your head towards him.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes wide.

“Thanks. I’m almost done and then the bathroom’s all yours.”

“No rush. Take your time.”

You finish your makeup and gather all your stuff, leaving him in the bathroom and heading back to his room. You plop your stuff down on his bed and think of what to do next. Might as well make yourself useful while he’s showering and get the icing bags ready for the gingerbread cookies. You head back down to the kitchen, where Rosa’s sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.

“You look beautiful, honey,” she says.

“Thank you,” you say, sitting down across from her.

“Francisco’s in the shower?”

“Yes, he is. I think I’m going to get the icing bags ready for the cookies if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” she says, springing up from her chair and rifling through the kitchen cabinets.

She pulls out an electric mixer, confectioners sugar, and food coloring, setting them down on the table.

“Milk’s in the refrigerator and let me get you some Ziploc bags…” she says, reaching into the cabinet again.

“Thanks,” you say, getting to work on the icing while she sits across the counter and watches.

“I know I’ve just met you but I want to say thank you, for taking care of my son,” she says.

“Of course,” you smile, scooping icing into the ziploc bag for makeshift piping bags.

“He hasn’t been the same since Tom died. But now that he’s here, it’s like he’s his old self again.”

Tom. There’s that name again. You have to know what happened if you’re going to keep up this charade. This is the second time she’s mentioned it and you’re playing along like you know what happened. It’s bound to come up again.

“I’m glad he’s doing much better,” you say, adding food coloring to the bags.

Eventually, you hear the water turn off which means Frankie must be getting out of the shower. Rosa gets up from her stool and says, “Well now that Francisco’s finally done, I guess I’ll go shower. I’m sure he left me no hot water.”

You two share a laugh and she heads up the stairs. You’re left alone with your thoughts until Frankie comes back downstairs again. So for now, in the fleeting moments of solitude, you think of ways to ask Frankie about his past that don’t sound completely insensitive. You could ask him under the guise of just trying to keep the charade going. This whole thing was his idea. He’d have to understand, right?

“Hey,” he says, snapping you from your thoughts. You didn’t even notice him coming downstairs.

“Hi.”

“These look good. The kids will have fun decorating them.”

“I hope so,” you say.

You’re both just standing awkwardly in the kitchen, not saying a word. You think to yourself that maybe now would be the best time to ask, in case you need this information for tonight to go smoothly.

You open your mouth to ask, “What happened in Colombia?” but you’re interrupted by the front door opening.

“Feliz Navidad!” a woman’s voice shouts. You’re assuming it’s one of Frankie’s sisters or aunts.

He pokes his head down the hallway and shouts, “Ria!”

You glance over at the clock and she’s early. Frankie looks over at you and says, “She’s always early.”

“She’s the oldest?”

He nods. It makes sense.

She comes into the kitchen and pulls Frankie into a big hug. She looks like a younger version of Rosa, a little bit shorter than Frankie. Her husband and kids pile in behind her, her girls hugging Frankie and her husband shaking his hand.

“So nice of you to show up for Christmas. Not battling some mysterious illness this time, huh?” she teases.

“I’m not lying! I was really sick.”

You’re standing there awkwardly in the kitchen, not trying to interrupt the family reunion. It isn’t until one of Ria’s daughters looks over at you and asks, “Who’s this?” that your presence is acknowledged.

Frankie walks over to you and snakes an arm around your waist, proudly saying, “This is my girlfriend!” followed by your name.

“Nice to meet you!” Ria says, “It’s been such a long time since Francisco’s brought a girl home!”

This is the second family member to refer to him as Francisco and now you’re wondering if you should be doing the same. Before you can continue she motions her daughters over and says, “This is Luna and Camila. Luna’s in her junior year of college and my Camila’s a senior in high school!”

“Exciting times for both of you,” you comment, not really knowing what to say.

But Ria continues anyway. “And this is my husband, Emmanuel,” she says, gesturing to her husband in the corner. He seems like the quiet type, letting his wife do all the talking in social situations.

“Where’s Ma?” Ria asks Frankie.

“In the shower. Are the others on their way?”

“Laura’s almost here. Isabel and Roro will probably be late as per usual. Will you grab the rolls out of the car?”

Emmanuel nods, again not saying much of a word at all before heading out to the car in the driveway. Ria and the girls take off their coats, hanging them on a coat rack by the front door. While Luna and Camila retreat to the living room, Ria takes the rolls from Emmanuel and puts them in the drawer underneath the oven, putting them on a low setting to keep the rolls warm until dinner starts. Soon enough, you’re all sitting in the living room together, awkwardly exchanging glances and waiting for either Rosa to come downstairs or for someone else to arrive.

And for a while, it feels like the front door doesn’t close, a slew of family members coming in left and right. First, it was Aunt Maggie. Then it was Laura with her husband, Rafael, and their kids, Sofia, Anthony (who insists you call him Tony), and Marcelo, Frankie’s favorite. And Frankie wasn’t lying about Marcelo being his favorite, his eyes practically lit up the moment Laura walked in the door, carrying him on her hip. After Laura’s family, Uncle Tommy and Cousin Ben came. Frankie’s arm around your waist tightened when Ben looked you up and down which made your heart do somersaults. Aunt Linda followed soon after. And finally, last but not least, Isabel and Aurora (who goes by Roro) arrived.

Somewhere in between all of the commotion Rosa returned downstairs. And you’re left with your head spinning, trying to keep track of everyone’s names and trying to make a good first impression. And you think you succeeded? Laura and her kids are really nice. Marcelo’s been hanging off you and Frankie since he set foot in the door. Isabel is definitely the coolest Morales sister out of the three of them. You don’t really have any complaints about Frankie’s aunts. And Uncle Tommy’s been dozing off on the couch, reminding everyone to wake him up when it’s time for dinner. You don’t mind Ben at all but he definitely has a little crush on you. You don’t spend too much time talking to him, just enough to learn he teaches high school English.

You also noticed that Isabel, Roro, Uncle Tommy, Ben, and his brother-in-law all call him Frankie and not Francisco. But his mom, Ria, Aunt Maggie, and Aunt Linda call him Francisco. And to the nieces and nephews, he’s Uncle Frankie of course.

Eventually, Rosa announces that it’s time for dinner. Frankie and Ben set up a small folding table for the kids, except for Marcelo who sits on Laura’s lap. You sit in between Frankie and Isabel. Rosa sits at the head of the table and before everyone digs in she says, “Now who would like to say grace?”

“I will,” Tony says, raising his hand from the kids' table.

“Go ahead,” Rosa says.

“Grace. Okay, we’re done. Let’s eat, everybody!”

Everyone shares a laugh and Rosa decides, “You know what? It’s good enough for me!”

The rest of Christmas Eve goes smoothly. After dinner, you help the adults clean up before bringing out the gingerbread cookies to decorate. All of the kids, even Luna and Camila, sit around the table with you, decorating the cookies with your makeshift piping bags. Ria takes a picture of you guys, brows furrowed in concentration as you all try to make the cookies absolutely perfect.

“Aren’t you gonna do one?” you ask Frankie, who’s standing beside you and watching.

“Sure,” he says, pulling up a chair.

He grabs a gingerbread woman and begins to draw a face on her. But before he’s done he gives her a frown and angry eyebrows, holding it up and saying, “Look! It’s you when I don’t mow the lawn!”

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, grabbing your own gingerbread man and giving him not only angry eyebrows but a yellow blob in his hand.

“Look! It’s you when you complain about free lemons.”

The kids laugh even though they don’t know the full context of the joke. But once the last cookie is decorated, people begin to head out, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and saying goodnight. Once the main level is cleaned up you and Frankie say goodnight to his mom. She tells you that Christmas dinner is at Ria’s and that it starts at two.

With that, you’re off to bed, returning to your rightful place of being spooned by Frankie. And for once, the two of you are alone again. Your mind goes back to Tom, what happened in Colombia, and Frankie’s drug addiction. You’re just gonna do it, rip the bandaid off

“Frankie?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Well, earlier your mom was talking about your friend Tom and what happened in Colombia… I know it’s not really my business but should I know what happened? You know to keep up the act-”

He sighs and you fear you’ve overstepped.

“I figured it was going to come up sooner or later.”

He pulls away to rest on his back, staring at the ceiling and recounting what happened. You lie on your back, too, looking over at him as he begins his story.

“A few years ago, I developed a really bad addiction to coke. And it cost me almost everything. I lost my pilot's license. Santiago approached me, Tom, Will, and Benny about going to Colombia to steal money from this drug lord, Lorea.”

“I see,” you comment, letting him continue.

“It seemed appealing at the time. I needed the money, you know?”

“I get it,” you say softly.

“The mission was a fucking shitshow. We took fucking two hundred and fifty million dollars and lost all of it. It was too heavy for the helicopter so we crash-landed in a cocaine farm. They thought we were DEA and Tom killed some of them. So then we had to pay them as some kind of reparation. We went through the Andes on mules and two of the villagers followed us. One of them shot Tom and we had to carry him, the rest of the money through the mountains. When we finally reached the coast, the getaway boat was there waiting for us but the town was filled whatever was left of Lorea’s crew. There was no way we could carry all that cash with Tom’s body and make it to the boat without being killed. So we had to dump most of it down a fucking ravine.”

He’s getting more and more upset as he tells his story. And you feel guilty you even asked in the first place. He didn’t need to tell you all the details. He could’ve said his friend Tom died on a military mission in Colombia and that would’ve been enough to quell your curiosity.

“Somehow we made it to the boat, but not without a fucking car chase and shootouts. By the end, we were left with a little over one million dollars each, but we decided to give it all to Tom’s family,” he says, finishing with a deep breath.

You roll onto your side and look over at him. He’s not crying but you can tell he’s visibly upset, his eyes misty.

“Thanks for sharing that with me. I know it’s hard to recount a traumatic experience like that.”

“It’s okay. Figured you should probably know. My family thinks it was some sort of mission for the Army, not that we went rogue. I don’t want them to know the true nature of what it was… greed.”

“Understandable.”

“So after all that I came home with a dead friend and no money.”

“I guess the overgrown lawn and the constant partying make sense now.”

That actually gets him to laugh.

“I guess it does,” he chuckles, “But thanks for putting up with me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“And thanks for coming here and doing this for me. That happened two years ago and my family has been worried sick about me since. Whenever my mom calls me I just… I just lie. I think if she saw how I was doing now it would break her heart. But here with you, she thinks you’re like my saving grace.”

You don’t say anything because you really don’t know what to say. It’s nice his mother feels that way, but it’s all a lie.

“I know that was a lot…” he says.

“You’re okay. I’m here to listen,” you reassure him.

“You should probably get some sleep. You’ll need all the energy you can get to deal with my family for another day.”

“Okay,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side. Frankie spoons you again like he always does. This time you don’t feel something hard against your lower back, instead you feel Frankie’s breath by your ear.

“Thank you,” he whispers, holding you a little tighter as he falls asleep.

You wake up to Frankie still holding you just as tight. You’ve never had a Christmas like this, one so peaceful.

And then it hits you… it’s Christmas. Which means you need presents, something you completely forgot all about. You were too wrapped up in pretending to be Frankie’s girlfriend.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

Has he been awake this whole time? And still holding you just as tight…

Whatever, worry about that later.

“I forget to get everyone fucking presents.”

“Already took care of it.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he says, propping his elbow on the pillow and looking down at you, “You’ve never met them before. How could you get presents for people you don’t even know?”

“Right,” you say, lying on your back.

“Merry Christmas,” he smiles.

“Merry Christmas,” you respond.

“Let’s go exchange with my mom.”

You roll out of bed first and let him grab the presents from his suitcase.

“What did I get her?”

“A sweater. It’s her favorite color.”

“Ooh, good idea.”

He hands you the present and it’s wrapped like a typical guy would wrap it.

“I’m telling her you wrapped it.”

“Oh, she’ll be able to tell,” he laughs.

You follow him down the stairs where his mother is sitting on the couch watching a Hallmark movie. She smiles and wishes you a Merry Christmas when she sees you, grabbing presents from under the tree.

You give her the present “you” got her and she clocks Frankie’s wrapping job right away.

“I can tell Francisco wrapped this,” she chuckles, unwrapping the gift and opening the box. She tells you she loves it and pulls you in for a big hug. Even though you didn’t actually buy the gift, you can’t help but appreciate the sense of approval. Your mom would’ve criticized whatever you got her, no matter how great the gift was.

Rosa got Frankie a wallet with his initials engraved in the leather. She got you an apron with your name embroidered on it. Both presents were very thoughtful and as she’s pulling out the photo albums like she promised the other day, Frankie whispers in your ear, “She’s big on getting things personalized.”

The three of you spend the rest of the morning looking at photo albums until it’s time to get ready to go to Ria’s. For once, Frankie can’t wait to jump in the shower, anything to get away from the “embarrassing” pictures his mom is showing you.

Once the three of you are ready you drive to Ria’s in Frankie’s truck, with the gifts piled in the back seat. He parks on the street and you head inside to the already bustling house. Everyone shouts “Feliz Navidad” as you’re taking off your shoes before joining them at the table.

The menu for Christmas dinner is empanadillas, tostones, pernil, and arroz con gandules. And for dessert, there’s tembleque, the gingerbread cookies you and the kids decorated, and of course, the lemon bars.

Christmas Day goes even better than Christmas Eve. All of the presents got for you to give to his family were a hit, but not without a sly comment from Frankie.

“You know… She did have some help,” he says with a smirk and a wink.

That earned him a smack on the arm.

Eventually, the evening is winding down. The kids are sitting under the tree playing with their toys and the adults are scattered around the house. For once, there’s no one paying attention to you two.

“Come with me,” Frankie says, getting off the couch and grabbing his coat.

“Where are we going?”

“For a walk,” he says.

You follow him to the front door, slipping on your shoes and coat. The two of you walk side by side on the sidewalk. It’s silent between you two but it’s a comfortable silence. But as you stop underneath a streetlamp, Frankie says, “I have something for you.”

“Frankie! You didn’t have to.”

“No, I really did. And I wanted to. It’s not just a Christmas present but it’s also a thank you for doing this for me… And also an apology for being a shitty neighbor,” he chuckles.

He pulls out a box from his coat pocket and hands it to you. You lift the lid to reveal a gold chain with a pendant, and a lemon stamped into the metal.

“Aw, Frankie… This is so sweet.”

“Look at the back,” he says softly.

You flip over the pendant and engraved on the back is your street name, Magnolia Drive. You look back at Frankie and his face is nervous, as if he’s waiting for your approval. His brow furrowed, his face dimly lit under the streetlamp, and his curls peeking out under his stupid fucking hat. All you can do at that moment is kiss him. He’s shocked for a second but it doesn’t take long for him to melt into your touch and wrap his arms around you.

He pulls away for a second to ask, “I take it you like it?”

“I love it, Frankie,” you nod, leaning in for a kiss again.

And for a moment you two stay there, holding each other under the streetlamp on Christmas night.

“I didn’t get you a present,” you admit, resting your head against his chest.

“You already did. You did me a huge favor. It’s a lot to deal with my family.”

“I didn't just deal with them. I liked being with them.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, like you said before, they’re nothing like you.”

“Shut up,” he says, pulling you in for another kiss.

After a while he says, “We should probably get back.”

You nod and follow him back to Ria’s house where you bid your goodbyes to everyone and head back to Rosa’s for the night. She turns in early and now it’s just you and Frankie alone again. But being alone with him feels different this time. Not only because you just kissed but also because you think… you have feelings for him. Maybe it’s the holiday spirit talking or how vulnerable he was last night, but you have to admit to yourself that Frankie Morales is not only a cute man but a man you misjudged this whole time.

Once you’re back upstairs to Frankie’s room, you’re sitting side by side on his bed. The silence is back and you’re wondering if you shouldn’t have kissed him earlier. Maybe all you are to him is someone who did him a favor, someone who’s just his neighbor and nothing more.

“I’m sorry about the kiss. I-”

“You’re sorry?”

“Well yeah, I-”

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long, cariño.”

“How long?”

“Soon after you moved in next door.”

“Really? I thought you hated me.”

“No, I never did. I just liked pushing your buttons. You’re cute when you’re irritated.”

Your brain is short-circuiting, in disbelief at what he’s saying.

“Even when you were with Heather?”

“Mhm.”

“Is that why you were so jealous of Benny at your birthday party?”

“...Maybe,”

“Mmm, you’re cute when you’re jealous,” you say, leaning in for another kiss.

This time the kiss is needier, and more passionate, like you can’t get enough of each other’s touch, scent, and taste. His hands caress either side of your face as his body leans into you more, coaxing you to lie down on his bed. His mouth leaves yours, trailing along your jawline and down your neck. Your breath hitches as he nips at your skin, immediately licking the bruised skin afterward. He moves down lower, lips moving along your collarbone, until he’s completely kneeling on the floor in front of his bed. His hands hook around the waistband of your pants, sliding them off in one clean motion before going to remove your panties.

“Frankie?” you ask, resting on your elbows and looking down at him.

“Yeah?”

“What about like… your mom?”

“She sleeps like a rock,” he says bluntly, returning to what he was doing before.

He pulls off your panties and spreads your legs, looking at how wet your cunt is already.

“Mm, so wet for me, cariño,” he muses, his warm breath tickling your core.

Before you can respond, he licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you breathe out, eliciting a chuckle from him.

He goes back in for another, licking up and down your entrance slow, enough to drive you crazy. And then, he moves to your clit, tongue swirling around it as your back arches up off the bed. He hooks his arms around your thighs, keeping you in place as he gets to work, nose grinding against your clit while his tongue licks your cunt. It doesn’t take long for you to cum, his face taught against your cunt as you do so.

Once you’re done, he rests his head against your inner thigh, admitting the mess he just made. The lower half of his face is soaked, his patchy facial hair glistening. He returns back to your cunt for one more lap of his tongue, just to taste you one more time before rising from the floor and taking off his clothes. You sit up and take off your sweater and your bra, tossing them on the floor and lying back down. You inch up a little higher on the bed to make room for him as he hovers over you.

“I have a confession to make,” he says, looking down at you with a sly grin.

“Oh??”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you naked.”

“Uhh-”

“Your bathroom window faces mine.”

“...It does?”

“Mhm. Saw you drying off one day.”

“Oh yeah? And then what?”

He bends down and whispers in your ear, “Jerked off in the shower to the thought of you.”

Your whole body shudders.

“Touch me, Frankie, please,” you whine.

“Are you begging, cariño?”

“Fuck. Yes, I am,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” he whispers in your ear, his hand caressing the outline of your breast before moving to your nipple. His other hand gathers some of your releases and strokes his cock, getting extra hard before sliding inside you, all while he plays with your nipple. You gasp at the sensation, feeling his length stretch your walls; feeling like you’re being split apart.

“You can take it,” he softly commands, bringing his face away from your ear and looking into your eyes again. He studies the expression on your face; the open mouth and the tears in the corners of your eyes, and his lips curve into a smirk. He draws his hips back and thrusts into you again, your cunt feeling completely full. Your soft moans are like music to his ears but he needs to hear more, not necessarily more sounds but a confession from you, too.

“Be honest, cariño. You’ve thought about fucking me too, haven’t you?”

It’s actually insane that this is the same sweet man who gave you the most thoughtful Christmas present earlier tonight. The same man who confessed to jerking off in the shower after seeing you naked.

“Y-yes…” you confess.

“What was that? Didn’t hear you,” he says as his hand to your other breast, taking your nipple in between his fingertips.

“Fuck, Frankie yes, I’ve thought about it.”

“When?” he presses further, keeping the same pace with his thrusts.

“All the time. Even when you piss me off.”

“Knew it,” he teases, slamming his hips back into you. He rests his elbows on the other side of your head, face to face with you as he fucks you relentlessly.

“Frankie, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Let me feel it, cariño,” he says, studying your face again.

You close your eyes as you cum but that just won’t do for him. He wants you to look directly into the eyes of the man who made a mess of you.

“Look at me,” he softly commands.

You open your eyes, locking with his as you cum around his cock, feeling your walls flutter and pulsate in rhythmic patterns.

“Good girl,” he praises, thrusting into you one final time before coming, too. He paints your insides with his cum before pulling out of you and lying down on the bed. You roll over and situate yourself in the crook of his neck, resting your hand on his chest.

“You’re amazing,” he says, taking the his hat off his head and propping it on the bed post before wrapping his arm around you. There’s his sweet side again.

“I can’t believe you saw me naked,” you tease, still sort of in disbelief.

“Two times now. It’s a Christmas miracle,” he jokes.

You have to agree with him. He feels you twitch against him and he whispers, “Goodnight. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper back, letting sleep consume you.

New Year’s Eve

You’re spending New Year’s Eve at a bar with some of Frankie’s friends from high school. Ever since the night you got together, you’ve been leaning into the girlfriend role more, feeling like it’s not a charade anymore. Frankie doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he welcomes it. This is what the two of you wanted all along, even if both of you didn’t know it.

You’re watching the ball drop in New York City on the TV at the bar with Frankie’s arm snaked around your waist. As the clock strikes midnight, you kiss, feeling like you’re starting the year off right for once.

“Look at you,” you whisper against his lips, “Ending the year in a fake relationship and starting the new year in a real one.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he whispers back.

Tag list: @wannab-urs @noxturnalpascal @hiddenbabynyc @littlegrungegirlaf @hyzer34 @catchallfangirl @pamasaur @paleidiot @runningmom94 @butiknewyoudlinger @sydneyinacoma @yorksgirl @wilderwizard @hnt-escape @axshadows @fanficlover1414 @lavema @yazsos @tarot-freader @dundienominee @pedropascalfan221 @khindahra @janaispunk @tuquoquebrute @perotovar @clawdee @immarocketman @whoreofabuckethead @grogusmum @idungoofed @fluffygoffpanda @meveispunk @beefrobeefcal @magpiepillsjunior @pr0ximamidnight @elvinaa @survivingandenduring @lincolndjarin @missladym1981 @heavennumber2 @covetyou @anoverwhelmingdin @hellfire-state-of-mind @joels-shitty-puns @stevie75

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction

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scrambledslut · 11 months

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makes me so eepy

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fettuccin-e · 4 months

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I am high as fuck rn and I started getting all mushy and emotional abt my catholic upbringing and like losing faith and THEN I started getting emotional abt sweet Frankie and then I just started writing and this is horribly unedited and written in prob like 5 minutes pls be nice to me i am fragile lol (there is like a lot blasphemy in this and also cunnilingus just be warned hehe)

~~~

Frankie doesn’t pray much these days. His mamá raised him in the eye of the Lord, church every Sunday in his very best, hands folded in front of him. Christmas masses, Easter Sundays.

After he went into Delta, he lost sight of God, of everything he’d ever gleaned from the old dusty bibles laying around his childhood home. Any semblance of faith wiped away and replaced with blood on his hands, a gun braced against his shoulder. Faith was beaten out of him and replaced with blind patriotism before he too was left behind. Forced to return to society broken and used and hopeless.

But you. You showed him different, showed him how to live again. You found him, a broken man working to leave behind a drug-addled past, with a daughter visiting every other weekend and an ex-wife wanting nothing to do with him.

He finds it funny that you met him just outside of a church, at the Salvation Army store the next building over. Trash bags full of old clothes weighing down your shoulders, a grateful smile when he offered to help. And he swears, in that moment, he saw a glimpse of God in your smile.

And in the months since that day, between countless dates and fights and sex and sweet kisses in the morning light, Frankie thinks he finds faith again.

Frankie doesn’t pray much anymore, except between your thighs.

In the evening quiet, crickets chirping outside and soft sounds coming from the old television in your living room, Frankie finds salvation on his knees.

He whispers his prayers in sweet nothings against your skin, begging you for love, for your patience, for your saving grace. You’re happy to provide, a far more loving god than the one he grew up believing in.

He drinks up the wetness of your cunt like the blood of Christ, relishing in the taste of you on his tongue. You’re soft and sweet and forgiving.

You absolve his sins with your fingers curling through his hair, your praise filtering in his ears. He devotes his mind, his body, his soul to you as you suck in air through your teeth, letting him bring you to orgasm over and over and over again.

This is his penance, his confession. No priest or military general can hurt him here. He is safe, he is not alone.

So when you tug him up from between your legs to meet him in a soft, slow kiss, Frankie finally feels free. Free of pain and suffering, of responsibility and guilt.

He doesn’t mind if heaven waits for him after death, as long as he gets this one life with you.

#frankieeee #he makes me weep #I am quite inebriated I have watched trolls twice #Frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie x reader #frankie catfish morales #catfish x reader #frankie morales smut #triple frontier x you #triple frontier fic #triple frontier smut #triple frontier x reader

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absurdthirst · 2 years

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Meant To Be {Frankie Morales x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 25.5k

Warnings: Unrequited love, significant age difference (everyone is of age), angst, pregnancy, heartbreak, drinking, vaginal sex, labor, childbirth, divorce, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, cream pie, hand jobs, breast feeding.

Comments: As the adoptive little sister of Will and Ben Miller, you fell for Francisco Morales the moment you met him when you were seventeen. Through the years is seems as if he would never see you a woman, and you have to witness him seemingly falling in love with another woman and creating a family with her.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

The first time you met Frankie was when you were seventeen. Twelve years younger than him and your brother, Will. Well, adopted. You’re the adopted one. Raised by Wayne and Patricia Miller after your parents tragically died in a car accident. The Millers were your next door neighbors and your godparents so you’ve always known them and their sons. After your parents died when you were three, they took you in as their own so they are your family in all ways but blood.

When Will decided to join the army, Patricia was concerned, but knew her eldest was an old soul, so she let him go. When he came back from basic training, Benny knew what he wanted to do, he wanted to be like his big brother, and signed up as soon as he was old enough. You remember missing them during your teenage years, especially Benny since he was closer in age to you. When they came home from base one day with Frankie, it was love at first sight. You were immediately enthralled with his dark brown eyes and shy demeanor. He stole your heart that day and he never gave it back.

****

“Captain Morales, I’m sorry, you are going to have to go home.” Frankie groans, throwing his head back to hit against the pillow of the cot he was laying on. He had been praying that it was going to be a clean injury for once in his life. The fact that he took a round in the shoulder and still managed to get the helicopter back to base before he passed out was a minor miracle, but he had done it. He tunes out the details, looking up at the roof of the field surgery building and sighs. At least he’ll be able to see you…and Monica.

****

It's been months since you last saw any of the boys. You've settled into your new job and your new apartment after returning from the city. You just broke up with Jared - yet another failed relationship. He said he couldn't be with you when you clearly won't give your heart to him. It's been an issue, trying to give a relationship a chance when you are still in love with Frankie.

You've tried to tell Frankie how you feel, several times, but you've always been too late. He's been in a relationship and when he's single, you have a boyfriend. It's like fate doesn't want you to be together. You sigh, deciding to get a drink after work, so you shut off your computer and leave the office, making your way to your favorite bar in town - the one you frequented with the boys and your friends. "Hey. Usual?" Shelly asks from behind the bar, quickly getting you an old fashioned.

You hum, taking a sip after thanking Shelly. That's when you hear him, ordering his usual beer. You turn your head, eyes wide, "Frankie?"

Frankie turns, surprised to find you here, even though he had been hoping for it. You weren’t the seventeen year old who pouted when your parents wouldn’t allow you to have a beer at the cook out when he was over. “Hey.” His shoulder is in a sling, bandaged from the surgery still, but he was tired of sitting in his BOQ, bored out of his mind. He didn’t want to go to the officer’s club on base, preferring the small bar where he and his team always came to. “Small world, huh?” He grins, moving over to give you an awkward, one-armed hug.

"What happened?" You ask, frowning when he pulls back so you can see the sling.

"Got shot. Again." He rolls his eyes before reaching for his beer. You shake your head, heart pounding when you silently acknowledge that he could die at any moment and you would have never got to tell him how you feel.

"What about my brothers? And Pope?" You ask, worried something has happened and you haven't heard yet.

"All good. Just having fun without me." He teases, "no concern for Tom?" You roll your eyes, never hiding your dislike for Tom, especially after he called you a military groupie. Frankie chuckles and settles on the bar stool next to you.

"So...how long are you back for? How long is your leave?" You ask, lifting your drink to take a sip of it. You're no longer that shy seventeen year old girl, you're a woman now and it's time he knew that.

Blowing out a breath, he rolls his eyes. “At least a month.” He tells you, unhappy with the prognosis that the doctor had given him for recovery. “The bullet tore through some muscles so they had to fix that. They don’t want me overdoing PT to get back over there.” He huffs, having every intention of doing just that. He didn’t like not being there for the guys. The bartender sets down both of your drinks and he smirks before he slides your old fashioned over to you. “A lot different from when you were pouting for a beer, huh?“ he asks, picking up his beer bottle and taking a sip.

You frown for a moment, wishing he would see you as more than Benny and Will's younger sister. After a flash, you chuckle awkwardly, nodding as you pick up your drink. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm all grown up now." You say a little harsher than you should. You know you need to move on from him, he clearly doesn't like you as anything more than a friend. You will remind yourself to call Jared later, see if he will give you a second chance.

He watches you take a long sip, feeling guilty for staring but you are beautiful. He’s thought so since the day he met you, although you were too young. Way too young. Although you aren’t now. Feeling guilty again because he is dating Monica, has been for awhile, and she’s been hinting that she wants to get married. He clears his throat, reminding himself that even if he wasn’t with Monica that you wouldn’t be interested in him. You’d want someone your own age. “So what’s been going on? Work? New boyfriend?” He asks as casually as he can possibly muster.

You sigh, looking down at your drink for a moment. "Yeah. It's going well. I have a new job in town. I was living in the city but Mom is struggling since Dad...you know. So I moved back to be closer since the boys are away." You had been devastated to lose your adoptive father, reminded of the loss of your parents even though you never really knew them. "And I just broke up with my boyfriend. It was...complicated." You confess, picking up the cocktail stick to suck the cherry off, chewing it to stop yourself from saying something stupid.

“Not complicated at all, he’s an idiot.” Frankie makes a face, trying to remember if it’s the last douchebag you had brought around before they had deployed. “Anyone who breaks up with you is an idiot. Or if he did something to make you break up with you, he’s an idiot. Unless….” He scowls slightly. “I need to beat his ass on behalf of your brothers?”

You snort, shaking your head. "Even if I did need it, you aren't in fighting shape."

Frankie huffs, "I can still kill a man with one arm." He is half joking and you know it. You know what they are all capable of. It's wrong but a deep part of you finds it unbelievably hot to know Frankie could kill a man with one arm.

"We just...he wanted more from me than I could give." You tell Frankie with honesty.

His frown immediately returns. “That just makes me want to beat his ass more.” He admits, but you shake your head again.

“Not like that, emotionally.” You explain and Frankie feels his heart flip for joy. You hadn’t wanted to be serious with that Jared prick. He relaxes and picks up his beer bottle again before he realizes that he probably needs to eat. His meds are going to kick in soon and while he shouldn’t mix pain meds with beer, it was even worse on an empty stomach.

“You wanna get something to eat?” He asks, knowing Monica is still out of town on some trip so she won’t be calling. Or shouldn’t be.

You couldn't say no even if you wanted to. "Sure. I'm starving. Want to go to the Chinese place down the street?" You ask, knowing you've enjoyed take out from there. He nods and you reach for your purse to pay for your drink but he's already throwing some bills down on the counter. "Frankie." You admonish him, and he tuts, "my round." You fluster, forgetting that last time he was in town, you bought the drinks. "Fine." You huff, shifting off of the bar stool.

Frankie grins and when you both are in the parking lot, he looks around, spotting your car. “Why don’t you leave it here and ride with me?” He asks, knowing that it makes no sense to drive separately when you will most likely end up back here after too many egg rolls.

You nod, making your way over to his truck and he opens the door for you. "I should be doing that for you, you're the one with the injury." You shake your head at him. He shuts the door and rounds the truck to get into the driver's seat.

"I'm fine. I'd be back out there if I could." He confesses, starting the engine. You buckle your seatbelt and lean back to watch him. His profile is completed by the Standard Oil cap that's worn and tatty. You don't know how you've gone so long without seeing him.

"You ever wonder what life would be like if you didn't go back?" You ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

Frowning slightly, he shakes his head. Unable to think about leaving his team over there. “Not now.” He admits. “My brothers, your brothers, are over there and I hate that I’m not able to protect them now.” He looks over at you. “But eventually? When shit dies down? Get married, have a couple of kids. Hopefully not have gotten my dick blown off.” He jokes.

You giggle softly, “I get it. I just - it keeps me awake at night. Wondering if you’re all okay.” You admit, looking out of the window as he drives to the restaurant.

“Even Tom?” He teases. You roll your eyes as you turn your head to look at him. You bite your lip, knowing it’s not the right time to tell him how you feel. It never is.

“Guess time will tell, huh?” You say as nonchalantly as possible.

“Time will tell.” Frankie answers back, wishing for a moment that you were worried about him because you liked him rather than being your brother’s friend. “What about you? Want to get married? Have kids?” He asks, ignoring the heartburn of imagining you having you get married and start a family.

“Eventually. Just gotta find the right guy.” You sigh, knowing you’ve found him but he doesn’t feel the same way. Frankie just hums, making your heart sink even more. “One day though. We will see what happens in the future.” You add, not wanting to shut yourself off from the prospect of loving anyone the way you love Frankie.

Pulling into the parking lot, Frankie shuts off the engine and looks over at you. “Your brothers want you to be happy, as long as they approve.” He jokes. “You know they will hate anyone you are with, right? They hated that twerp Jared.”

You sigh, nodding and you know it’s true. They hate Jared and haven’t made a secret of it. “I’m sure he could be just like them and they’d hate him.” You snort, grabbing the handle to get out of his truck. You head into the Chinese restaurant, getting your usual table, and you both order a beer. “So…anyone special in your life?” You ask, half dread-filled, half curious.

He feels guilty, so fucking guilty, even though he knows he shouldn’t. Instead of telling you the truth, telling you that he’s been seeing Monica for about four months before his latest deployment, he shrugs. “Who has time?” He asks, deflecting. “Always gone.” Doesn’t matter that he slept with her immediately when he got home before his surgery. He doesn’t want to tell you that. ‘Yeah I’ve got this chick that I’m seeing, mostly just fucking, but she wants to get hitched.’ He doesn’t think thats exactly what you want to hear.

Your heart flutters at the news that he doesn't have anyone. That annoying surge of hope. You smother your smile in your chicken and rice soup, "that's-I know it's not easy to maintain any kind of relationship. Will knows that more than any of us" Your brother had a fiancé but she couldn't handle the lack of communication and dumped your brother in a “Dear John" letter that broke his heart.

“Yeah.” Frankie nods and grabs a dumpling off his plate. “It takes a special kind of woman to put up with us when we are gone for so long.” He takes a bite and frowns slightly, not sure if Monica could do that. “But the guys who do have wives look forward to getting home.”

You can't help but wonder how it would be like to be the woman waiting for Frankie to come home. "One day. You’ll find the right woman. You deserve to find the best woman for you." You want to tell him that woman is you. You know everything about him - the good and the bad. Before you can say anything else, the food arrives.

“And you’ll find an asshole that Will and Ben are willing to put up with.” Frankie snickers, grinning at you. “Or they’ll hide him where no one will ever find him.”

You eat, laughing about Will and Benny’s antics on base. Frankie pays despite your protests, and you end up going back to the bar for another drink. Sticking to beer, you buy the round, telling Frankie to go sit down as you grab the drinks. Carrying them over to the table,

You sit down beside him, handing him the bottle. “To old friends.” He smiles, clinking his bottle against yours. “Old friends.” You murmur, taking a long sip.

Frankie sighs, relaxing and smiling at you. You look gorgeous and for a moment he wonders what it would be like to be on a date with you. Would you smile softly at him, and let him kiss you? He’s busy pondering that question and misses the fact that Monica is walking in the door and looking around for him.

You look up when you see the woman approach your table. “This is where you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. Who’s this?” Her eyes narrow as she looks at you, making you frown in confusion.

“Oh. This is Will and Benny’s little sister. We were just catching up.” He tells her your name but your heart sinks at hearing him refer to you as his friends’ sister, not even as his friend.

Frankie doesn’t like the look on Monica’s face, instantly jealous and suspicious but it softens when he explains who you are. It’ll keep him from having problems later on.

“Oh how sweet, making sure she knows they’re safe.” She coos, sliding in beside him and taking his beer to steal a sip. “I know I just worry about Cat all the time.”

You are still so confused, watching this woman wrap her arm around him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. Deep down, you think you know what she is to him, but you need to hear it out loud. “I’m sorry. Frankie’s never mentioned you.” You offer her what you hope is a sweet smile despite the fact that you are jealous of her. You hate to admit it to yourself but it’s true.

“Oh. I’m Frankie’s girlfriend, Monica.” She giggles, kissing his cheek and you swear you die in that dingy bar.

“Oh.” You murmur, unsure of how to react while you progress it, your eyes flicking over to Frankie who seems to be avoiding your gaze. “That’s - it’s nice to meet you.” You lie, blinking rapidly to stop the possibility of tears.

“Thought you didn’t like that term?” He asks, looking over at Monica with a little bit of frustration. “When did you get back into town? You were supposed to be gone until Monday.” He’s not exactly upset, knowing that he’ll get laid, but he doesn’t like the look on your face. Something’s upsetting you and he hopes it’s not him.

You pick up your beer, swallowing down the remainder while Monica leans in to nudge her nose against Frankie's. "I missed you baby. I managed to get out of my meetings early. Wanted to spend as much time as possible with you." She coos, reaching down to squeeze his upper thigh.

"I, um, I better go. I have work in the morning." You announce, setting the beer bottle down. "I'll see you around Frankie. It was nice to meet you Monica." You offer them a tight smile before you grab your purse and stand up, rushing out of the bar with tears streaming down your cheeks.

Frankie watches you go, sighing quietly and he turns to look at Monica. It’s not fair for him to be dating her when he’s not sure if he actually wants her, but she is pretty, she likes him and she’s not the Miller’s little sister. “Why don’t we go back to your place, babe?” He asks, leaning in and kissing her firmly, trying to banish the idea of kissing you out of his mind. “We can see how long I can lean on this shoulder while I make you scream.” He murmurs with a smirk.

Monica giggles, nipping his jaw before she shuffles away from him and stands up. "Come on baby. I promise to ride you too. Give you a break. I need as many orgasms from you as possible before you have to leave." She reaches down to squeeze his ass after he stands up. Frankie sees your car as you pull out of the parking lot, wondering why it took you so long to leave until Monica grabs his attention again, telling him she will meet him at her place.

****

Frankie sighs, looking down at his phone and thinks about calling you. He’s just gotten back to his room from Monica’s and is hoping that you are okay. Opening his phone, he clicks on your contact information and listens to the phone ring. He had wondered if you were upset that he hadn’t told you about Monica, but he couldn’t define what they were right then.

You sniff, wiping your eyes as you finally calm down. Maybe you’re being childish. Frankie isn’t obligated to return your feelings. Just because you want him doesn’t mean he wants you. You need to grow up and realize that. You hear your phone ring and pick it up, seeing Frankie’s contact. “Hey Frank.” You answer softly, hoping he can’t hear you’ve been crying.

“Hey.” Frankie relaxes slightly at the sound of your voice. Moving over to the chair in the small sitting area is his quarters and sitting down. “You left early yesterday. I just- I hoped to spend some more time with you.” He confesses, looking over the picture he has up on the mirror from the last get together they had before this deployment. You were smiling and hanging between him and Benny while Pope stuck rabbit ears over your head and Will just grinned. “You’re not busy at work, are you?” He asks, realizing that he called when you should be at work.

“No. No. I have the day off today.” You lie, you called in sick. You’re confused about why he wants to spend more time with you when he is with Monica. Why would he want to hang around with his friends’ little sister? “What…what do you want to do?” You ask softly.

He scrunches his brow, having specifically heard you say that you had to be at work early today but he shakes his head and grapples for something. “How about we go to a movie? Or we can go to the zoo?” He likes the idea of the zoo, better able to joke with you if he doesn’t have to be quiet.

You frown, realizing those sound like things you’d take a kid to. Still, it’s a chance to spend an afternoon with Frankie. “The zoo sounds good but- are you sure you want to go out with me? I’m sure your girlfriend will want to see you.” You manage to keep the slight tone of sarcasm from your voice.

“Of course I want to spend time with you.” He tells you, shifting to put his phone on speaker so he can start unbuttoning his shirt. He needs to shower, not thinking you will appreciate him showing up in day old clothes even if he showered with Monica last night. “She’s fine, she- it’s not, it’s complicated. Casual.” He mutters lamely.

That stupid feeling of hope flickers in your chest and you hope it really is just casual. You want him to think of you as a woman, not that seventeen year old he met years ago. “Complicated.” You repeat. He hums, suddenly feeling awkward. You dissipate that by agreeing to go to the zoo.

“I’ll pick you up.” He tells you, “does noon work? We can get dinner after.” He adds, wanting to spend as much time with you as possible.

Frankie grins when you agree. “Okay. You shower and get ready and I’ll be there at noon.” He tells you, hanging up the phone before he calls Monica to tell her that he’s going to be busy tonight. Which works out surprisingly well since she just made plans to go visit a girlfriend who was depressed. Grinning, he sits down and types up and email to send to Benny, telling him about the running into you and how he was going to keep an eye on his little sister for him while he was home.

****

You walk along the pathway, giggling at the giraffes as they nudge each other to get at the tree branches. “So Benny emailed me, telling me you emailed him about me.” You look at Frankie after you stop walking. “Said he’s pleased I dumped Jared. I didn’t know you were a gossiper, Francisco.” You tease, a smirk on your face.

“Hey.” He gives you an offended look and reaches out to tug on your earlobe. You are wearing the earrings that your brother had given you last Christmas, from a merchant in the country they had been deployed. Frankie had been with him when he picked them out. “Men gossip, we gossip.” He tells you. “We just call it ‘passing information’.”

You snort, batting his hand away playfully. “Oh sure. I know you all gossip like old women. Sitting around the campfire exchanging the juicy details. Probably exchanging sex stories and talking about the latest camo fashion accessories.” You tease before shrieking when he grabs your waist, pulling you into his chest.

He chuckles, aware that a few people have turned their heads to see what the commotion is. For a second he thinks about kissing you, making it a joke about telling your brother, but he doesn’t want to do that. Not when he’s seeing Monica - that wouldn’t be fair. And also because he would want to kiss you for real. Instead he just lifts a brow and smirks at you. “Sex stories are okay. Especially when you know you’re good.”

You scoff, pushing away from him. You know he is just being friendly and you can’t let yourself give in to the fantasy that this is a date. “Which I doubt any of you are, so that topic of gossip must be short lived.” You tease, despite knowing he’s good. You’ve heard the stories from your brothers when they complained about him keeping them up at night when Frankie had a girl in his room.

“You must be talking about your brothers.” He huffs, even if he’s grinning. “Mostly they sit at my feet and try to learn from my stories.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I don’t want to know about them.” You wrinkle your nose, “as for you…I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

He grins, “I’ll have to prove it to you one day.” It slips out before he can stop it and you freeze, knowing he’s just joking around but your stomach twists at the idea of experiencing his prowess first hand.

You clear your throat and glance back towards the giraffes. “So when do you think you’ll be going back?” You ask, changing the subject.

He’s not wearing the sling today. Working on his range of motion, the bandage has been changed from a huge one to just one that protects the surgical incisions that will be healed soon. “Just as soon as they let me.” He confides. “I don’t like your brothers over there without me flying them.” Call it cockiness, call it ego, whatever, but Frankie knows his skills and he needs to be there with them. “Probably another month.” He tosses you a grin and decides to tease you. “Why? Ready to get rid of my ass already? Here I was planning to spend the month keeping you from complaining to Benny that you’re bored all the time.”

You shake your head, “I don’t want you to go back. I worry about you too much. About - about you all.” You add hastily, not wanting to make him think you are interested in him and only him. “Guess I’ll have to put up with you for the month. Though I’m sure Monica will be pleased to have you.” You mention his…whatever she is. Wondering what he will say.

“Yeah, I guess.” He honestly hadn’t given much thought to that aspect of it, beyond seeing her. He likes her, but he also doesn’t look forward to seeing her like he looks forward to seeing you. Instead of thinking about it, he shoots you a grin. “So give me a list of all the things you want to do. Skydiving, rock climbing, going for a helicopter ride.”

You shake your head at all of those suggestions as you continue walking through the zoo. “Skydiving? Hell no. Rock climbing? Sure I’ll give it a try. As for the helicopter…you know how I feel about flying.” You wrinkle your nose, always scared of flying. “What about going to that new bar in town? I hear they have good music. Dancing. Maybe…maybe I can meet someone.” You ponder softly, knowing you need to move on from him. You have to.

His brow shoots up and he tries to suppress the flash of irrational anger at you wanting to meet someone. It wasn’t fair to you to hold the fact that he had a stupid crush on you over your head. “You want me to be your wingman?” He asks, giving you an evil grin. “Like help you or break their hands?”

His reaction tells you all you need to know. He’s with Monica and he doesn’t want you. You shake your head, “you know I’m capable of breaking their hands myself. Will and Benny made sure I knew how to defend myself.” You chuckle, reminded of those afternoons in the garden while they taught you some moves. “But you can help.” You add lamely before you spot the elephants. “Oh. My favorite animal. Come on.” You grab his hand - not the bandaged one - and drag him over to the elephants, a smile on your face as you watch them.

He smiles, loving your enthusiasm for the gentle giants, causally keeping his hand in yours. Friends hold hands, that’s perfectly acceptable. Although it’s not friendship that has his heart pounding in his chest.

****

Frankie’s eyes widen when you open the door and he sees you dressed up. “Holy- your brother is going to kill me for letting you go out like that.” He whistles through his teeth and shuffles slightly to cover up the fact that his dick likes what you are wearing.

You roll your eyes at Frankie, "what they don't know won't hurt them. You gonna tell them and risk your balls?" You grab your purse, not noticing the way he's stiffened slightly, and he shakes his head when you look back at him. Both in response to your question and to clear his head. "Come on then, Fish. Let's go check this place out. See if it's as good as our usual." You step towards your front door, setting the alarm Will and Benny had insisted upon before you lock up after Frankie steps out.

Frankie walks you over to his truck and insists on holding the door for you. The step up is a big one, so he stands in front of you and helps you get in without flashing anyone you don’t want to. “I guess you really are looking for someone to take home.” He grumbles when he sees how high the hem rides up when you sit down.

You don't hear him, shifting to adjust your dress, and you wonder if he even feels slightly attracted to you or will he always see you as that awkward seventeen year old. He gets in, turning on the engine - his arm is now nearly healed - and you look out the window as he pulls out of your parking lot. "You'll be going back soon, huh?" You ask. Unable to deny that you're gonna miss him. You've spent a lot of time with him, having lunches, dinners, drinks. You'd almost say you were dating except the constant calls from Monica along with him always leaving in a rush soon after the call that no doubt assures him he is getting laid.

“Next week, hopefully.” Frankie nods, backing out of the spot before throwing the truck in drive. “The doctor says it’s almost a hundred percent and I’ve hit all my goals in PT.” He taps his fingers on the steering wheel to the music playing softly over the radio and wonders if you will miss him. “Probably be happy to have a break from me.” He teases, smirking as he glances over at you. “No more annoying you to spend time with me.”

You smile, shaking your head. "I think I am going to miss you a little too much." You realize what you said and try to amend it, "who else am I going to get ice cream with on a Thursday afternoon?" You wink at him, "but I will feel better with you over there, having Benny and Will's back. Along with Pope."

Frankie turns to look at you, "what about Tom?" He teases.

You snort, "please baby, you know how I feel about him." The nickname slips through your lips before you can think about it.

Frankie coughs, shifting in his seat and quickly looks back onto the road. He can’t do this anymore. He needs to stop wishing that he was with you. Your brothers will kill him and he’s too old for you. “So this bar.” He starts. “What kind of guy are you looking to pick up?”

You bite your lip, "someone - someone cute. Dark eyes, curly dark hair, broad shoulders, maybe a military man. God knows there are enough of them around here. I just want someone who can handle me and accept me as I am." Jared had tried to change you. He wanted you to lose weight, wanted you to wear more makeup and get waxed how he preferred. He didn't accept you as you are.

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say him. That he fit that criteria and would gladly turn the truck around and take you home. Instead he focuses on the last part of your comments. “Change you?” He growls, shaking his head and frowning. “Is that what that bastard tried to do? I’m going to kill him.”

You reach out to touch Frankie's arm, "hence why it didn't work out. Please, don't tell Benny and Will. I can't hear another 'told you so' about one of my boyfriends. Jared. He - he wanted me to lose weight, wear more makeup. Said he wanted a girlfriend that turned heads when he walked into a room with her." You leave out the part where he said "a girlfriend who isn't in love with another man."

Frankie snorts, shaking his head. “I knew he was a fucking idiot, but I didn’t think he was blind.” He huffs. “I won’t tell them.” He promises you as he turns into the bar’s busy parking lot. “But the second some limp-dicked pussy tries that shit on you again, you kick him in the balls. There’s nothing wrong with you.” He doesn’t add that you would make a dead man hard like he wants to, feeling like you wouldn’t appreciate it. Plus he’s with Monica.

You fluster, knowing he’s being a good friend, but you wonder if he’s ever thought of you like that. You don’t have time to dwell on that as you take Frankie’s hand after he parks, kills the engine, and rounds the truck to help you out. “What do you want to drink? Beer and a shot? First round is on me.” You tell him as you walk inside the bustling bar.

“You gotta stop paying for me.” He grumbles, letting his hand rest on your lower back as he follows you in. “I’m supposed to be buying you drinks.” He huffs, looking around and scouting the exits in case something goes down. It’s something he does in every new building he walks into.

You feel eyes on you, no doubt the skimpy dress has helped you gain attention, but you feel like Frankie's hand on your back is a deterrent. Even if you love how possessive it feels. Ordering the drinks, you lean against the bar and look across the crowd. "So, anyone you think would work for me?" You ask, half wondering if he is as totally fine with this as he makes out.

“No.” The word is out of his mouth before he even thinks about it, hovering behind you and halfway wishing he could push against your ass. He huffs to himself and tries to deflect. “None of these assholes are good enough for you.”

You roll your eyes, sipping on your beer. “Now you sound just like my brothers. What about him?” You ask, pointing subtly at the guy across the bar who looks the complete opposite of Frankie. Blonde, blue eyes, and a lot taller.

Frankie scowls, curling his lip up at how beefy the guy looks. “Fuck no.” He huffed. “Dude’s in love with the gym. He won’t want to cuddle and eat pizza. Plus, he looks like your brothers.” He adds for extra effect.

You wrinkle your nose at that, imagining being with someone like Benny or Will. Frankie smirks that his comment clearly worked. You turn your head, “what about him?” You point to the guy across the room wearing a leather jacket, his dark hair making him look mysterious. Like Frankie if he was a biker.

“Who the fuck wears a leather jacket in a bar when it’s a hundred degrees?” He scoffs, eyeing the guy and sizing him up. He could see that it was all for effect, the guy didn’t hold himself like a man who actually was dangerous. He’s puffed up and full of himself. “He looks like he’s a fucking problem.” He tells you. “If he grabs your ass, I’m breaking his hand.”

You hate the way your cunt clenches at the thought, imagining him defending you like that. You take another sip of your beer before your latest favorite song comes on, people dancing in the makeshift dance floor in the middle. “Well if there’s no one here that’s suitable, you’re just gonna have to dance with me so we have fun.” You tell him, grabbing his hand with your free one, dragging him to the dance floor.

He doesn’t hate dancing with you. Far from it. He fucking loves it. Getting to pull you close and hold you against him while both of you move to the music? It’s fantastic. Frankie laughs, pushing you away so he can twirl you in his arms and drag you back against him. No pain in his shoulder. Smirking when you giggle and he thinks it’s gorgeous, just like you. “Having fun yet?”

You nod, a wide smile on your face. “Yes. I am now. This place is cool, huh?” You ask him, spinning around again before he replies and says yes. You wrap your arms around his neck, rocking your hips to the beat, and you swallow harshly when your eyes meet his, the song ending and transitioning into something slower.

He feels it. A spark between you and it fucking terrifies him. Hating the idea that he’s misreading and you don’t actually look like you want to kiss him. He turns his head slightly, looking back at the bar. “Do you want another drink?” He asks, relaxing his grip on your hips before he does something dumb like try to kiss you.

You nod, swallowing harshly as you follow him to the bar. It’s awkward as you realize how close you came to kissing him. You lean against the bar as he orders another round and he pulls back when his phone rings, and you sigh, knowing who it is.

Frankie pulls out his phone and sees that it’s not Monica. It’s an international number. Benny. “Hey man.” He answers, talking over the crowd. “When did you learn how to use a phone?” He jokes, knowing how much Benny hates dialing international calling codes.

“Fuck you. I know how to call a fucking cell phone, Fish.” Benny scoffs, “where are you? It’s so fucking loud.” He never holds back on cursing unless he’s round his mama or you.

“A bar. With your sister.” He adds hesitantly.

Benny clenches his jaw, “with my sister?” He asks roughly, “what the fuck is she doing at a bar.”

“She’s over twenty-one.” Frankie reminds Benny, knowing that the overprotective older brother sometimes forgot that. “We are here for some drinks, she wanted to dance.”

Benny huffs and Frankie wonders what the other man is thinking, although he tells him soon enough. “You keep those motherfuckers off my sister, man. She’s not some skank they can bang and drop. I’d hate to have to fucking kill one of them.”

Frankie chuckles, “don’t worry man. No one will be touching her tonight. None of the assholes in here are good enough.” He says that with surety.

“Or you. I don’t want to hear about you fucking her either otherwise I’ll kick your ass across the damn desert. Then Will will finish the job.” Benny warns his friend, knowing he’s home and shit happens with booze is involved.

Frankie grunts, knowing that whatever he wanted to happen with you just died a painful death. Your brothers wouldn’t approve. He looks over at you and nods even though his friend can’t see him. “Roger.” He tells him before he hangs up.

You watch Frankie on the phone, frowning at the dark look on his face, when you’re interrupted by the blonde man you spotted earlier. “Hey beautiful. What’s got you frowning?” He asks, leaning in closer.

You sigh, looking up at him. “Just - why can’t men see something when it’s right in front of their face?” You ask with exasperation. You thought you and Frankie were all but dating. Going out together, dinners, ice cream, zoo days out and trips to the movies. It’s dating without the intimacy.

“Well whoever he is, he must be blind because I’m looking at the most beautiful woman in here tonight. Hell, in town.” He flirts, winking at you.

Frankie turns and watches the man flirt with you as he finishes up the conversation. Hating that you are giggling at whatever he says when he’s pulling the phone down to hang up. You are turned towards him so Frankie waves the bartender down to ask for the tab after ordering you another drink. He needs to get away from you. Your brother’s call made him realize he would never be able to be with you, so he needs to make a choice.

You chuckle at Brad’s charming jokes, rolling your eyes playfully and when you turn around to look for Frankie, he’s gone. “Everything okay, sugar?” Brad asks. You continue looking until you give up after asking the bartender who said Frankie paid the tab. You deflate, knowing that it was Monica on the phone and he’s ditched you for her.

Looking up at Brad, you nod shakily. “Yeah. Yeah. Everything is fine. Now, are you gonna offer to take me on the dance floor?” You ask him, trying to shove away the rejection and focus on having a good time. Frankie clearly doesn’t feel the same and you need to accept that.

In the parking lot, Frankie pulls out his phone again, calling Monica and listening to the phone ring. “Pick up, pick up.” He mutters, needing to see her before he goes back in there and drags you away from that guy.

“Hey baby!” Her voice is bright, happy to hear from him. Guilt that he’s not always happy to hear from her floods him but he shakes his head, knowing he’s doing the right thing for once.

“Hey, can I come over? I want to ask you something.”

****

Brad had just left when Frankie arrives. The tall blonde man had been a good distraction from Frankie for the past few days. Stopping you from picking up the phone to call him, or text him. You let yourself be distracted by Brad. He’s a good man, funny, handsome, sort of good in bed. He’s made you cum once which is more than you can say for most. Perhaps, if you’re truly honest, he made you cum because you were thinking about Frankie. God, you feel like shit for admitting that to yourself. When the man himself appears on your doorstep, you’re frosty. “Hey.” You say coolly, unable to believe he ditched you at the bar.

“Hey.” Frankie shuffles slightly, rubbing his hands on his pants. You’re mad at him, that’s obvious. “I- sorry about the other night.” He apologizes lamely, knowing it’s not an excuse. He can’t tell you that your brother warned him off of you so he needed to leave before he did something stupid. “It looked like you and blondie were having fun so I figured my role of wingman was complete.” He jokes, giving a flat chuckle that is absolutely forced.

You shake your head, stepping aside to let him inside. “You didn’t have to leave. He was just being nice. Introduced himself. I just- I don’t understand. We were having fun and then…radio silence since too. I know it was Monica who called and she doesn’t exactly like me.” You cross your arms, reminded of the times she’s invaded on your hang outs to put her arm around Frankie and mark her territory. “But I thought - with you going back soon…” You trail off, feeling stupid.

“Monica likes you.” Frankie’s protest is weak and he knows it. He sighs and reaches out, unable to resist pulling you close to hug you. “I’ve loved hanging out with you.” He tells you honestly, rubbing your back. “I- there was something that I needed to do, and that’s why I was out of comms for a couple of days.”

You let him pull you close, resisting the urge to snuggle into his arms, and you wrap your arms around his waist, just breathing him in. “What was important enough to keep you away?” You murmur into his chest.

He’s silent for several moments until he finally speaks. “I asked Monica to marry me.” You almost don’t hear him but you do, reeling back and staring at him in shock. Too shocked to cry or scream or do anything other than stare at him.

“What- you- you asked her to marry you?” He nods and you swallow down the lump in your throat, reminding yourself that first and foremost he’s your friend. You feel betrayed, heartbroken, and destroyed, but you nod, offering him a watery smile. “That’s - wow. Congratulations.” You say weakly.

He doesn’t get the reaction he had been almost hoping for. He had hope, just a tiny bit, that you would tell him no. That it was a horrible idea and that you loved him. Far fetched and the things of delusional fantasies. He gives a small sigh and swipes his hat off his head to rub underneath it before jamming it back on. “Thanks.” He takes another breath. “So we were thinking about doing it before I go back. So it’s official and she can get housing and everything. Medical.”

You somehow manage to maintain your composure. Wondering how the hell Frankie went from dancing with you to getting married to another woman within a matter of days. Yet he’s your friend so you have to at least pretend to be happy for him. “Oh. Yeah. Uh, that will be nice.” You offer him a smile, willing yourself to just maintain your composure until he leaves, then you can break down. “Don’t you want to wait until the boys can be here?” You frown, knowing how much they all mean to him.

Shaking his head, he props his hands on his hips. “Going to do a courthouse wedding and then when we come back, we figured we could do a proper wedding.” He tilts his head and turns his eyes to pleading orbs of soft brown fuzz. “Will you be a witness? For me?” He asks softly. “I want you to be there.”

It kills you, the look in his eyes. You want to scream at him not to do it. You want to beg him to call it off, you want to yell that you love him, he should be with you, but you don’t. You nod, “sure. I can do that.” You answer with the response of a good friend. “When’s the wedding?” You ask, knowing you’ll need time to figure out how you’re going to survive it.

“You will?” He straightens up, surprised that you will.

“Of course. You’re my friend.” You smile brightly and Frankie grits his teeth. Friend. Yep. That’s all you were to each other. Friends.

“So, we are thinking that we’ll get married on Wednesday.” He explains. “I have my flight out on Sunday. Gives us plenty of time to get her ID and get her in the system before I leave.”

It sounds like a transaction, not a romantic gesture, but who are you to question it. As long as he’s happy. You nod, “just let me know when and where. I’ll be there for you.” You reach for his hand, allowing yourself one more moment of contact, “I just want you to be happy.”

Except he’s not sure that he’s going to be happy. Frankie squeezes your hand regardless and nods. “Thank you.” He mutters and hates when you pull away. “It’s going to be just us and her best friend.” He tells you, licking his lips and running through everything he has to do now. “I’ll text you the time but I’ve got to meet her at the courthouse now for the license.” He admits, leaning in and hugging you once more quickly.

“Go. I’ll wait for your text.” You tell him, somehow managing to keep yourself together. He steps towards the door, glancing back at you once before he leaves, shutting the door behind him. You wait a few moments before you collapse, sobbing and wrapping your arms around yourself. It’s over. Any chance you foolishly thought you had with Frankie is gone.

****

Frankie isn’t nervous, he’s not much of anything beyond jittery. Not because he’s looking forward to this, but because it’s the end of his bachelorhood. Stepping forward into being married and hopefully closing the door on these stupid feelings he has for you. He likes Monica and he knows he could love her. Once he gets the idea of you and him out of his head. It might not be the right thing to do, but he has to get over you.

Getting ready for Frankie’s wedding is painful. You knew you’d have to face it one day, but you secretly hoped you’d be the bride. You slide into your heels, grabbing your purse, and gulp down the remainder of the booze you’d allowed yourself for getting through this event. Driving to the courthouse, you park and see Frankie pacing in the lobby when you enter. “You doing okay? Nervous?” You tease to try and stop yourself from crying. You’ve cried enough in the past few days.

“I guess.” He gives you a one shoulder shrug and reaches out to pull you against him for a hug. Needing this one last moment where he can pretend that you are the one that he’s marrying. But he’s made his bed and he has to lay in it. “You look good.” He murmurs in your ear. “Thank you for being here.”

You close your eyes, trying to stop the damn tears, and you breathe him in, inhaling his cologne and the scent that is just Frankie. “Of course.” You say awkwardly, clearing your throat as you pull away from him. The words you desperately want to say are on the tip of your tongue. You want to beg him to not marry her, tell him you love him. You open your mouth, heart thumping as you attempt it, just one last chance, but the door opens and they announce they are ready for him. You stare at him for another moment, knowing that as soon as steps into that room, it’s all over.

Frankie stares at you for another moment and decides that he’s going to do it. Leaning in, he kisses your cheek softly and pulls back to give you a quick wink, settling into a confident facade. “Let’s go get me married.” He tells you, more enthusiastic than he feels.

You follow him, sitting down on his side of the small room when the music begins to play and you stand up, Monica’s friend is a makeshift bridesmaid as she walks down the aisle dressed in her Sunday best. Then Monica appears, wearing a white dress - it’s not a wedding dress- but she still looks beautiful. It’s hard to not cry, your nails dig into your palms as you force yourself to keep calm. Even when they exchange vows and he slides the ring onto her finger, you maintain your composure. Even through the announcement of them being husband and wife and their kiss, you keep it together. “Congratulations.” You tell Monica after standing up and walking over to her and Frankie.

“Thank you.” She beams up at Frankie and leans in to kiss his smooth jaw. “I’m just thrilled we were able to do this before he went back.” She gushes, her ringed hand sliding down and resting on her stomach. “Make sure that everything is done for the baby.”

Frankie looks away, not able to look at you just yet. He hadn’t told you that Monica announced she was pregnant a few days ago. Making his decision easy. He took responsibility for his actions and mistakes and he hadn’t hated the idea of having a family waiting on him. Even if it wasn’t you.

If you thought your heart was broken watching Frankie get married, hearing that Monica is pregnant shatters it into pieces. You feel sick, unable to believe that this is happening. You freeze for a moment, processing, until you remind yourself that you need to act like you’re happy for him, you can break down later. “Oh. Wow, um, that’s…that’s…congratulations. On the wedding and the - the baby.” Your eyes flick over to Frankie as he turns away and he looks guilty.

“It’s a shock.” Monica giggles, curling against Frankie’s side. “I told him that he must have knocked me up the day he got home, wounded shoulder and all.”

Frankie dutifully chuckles and finally looks back over at you. You look stunned, but he’s sure that it’s because of the pregnancy announcement. “Yeah. We wanted to make sure that things were set up in case….” He trails off, not saying that it’s in case he doesn’t come back from this deployment.

“Yeah. That’s, uh, that’s smart.” You offer her a forced smile. “Well I’m sure you’ll want to celebrate. I’m, I’ll go, leave you. I’m gonna - I’m gonna go home. Congratulations.” You tell them, quickly spinning on your heel and making your way out of the room. You’d already signed as a witness so your job is done. Not even making it out of the courthouse before tears begin to stream down your cheeks. It’s truly over. It’s time to move on from Frankie.

****

Frankie looks around the airport, looking for you. He had texted you when he was leaving, halfway hoping that you would show up to see him off. Instead Monica pulls him close for another kiss. “I’m going to miss you.” She pouts and Frankie chuckles, focusing on his wife. Weird to say that or even think that, but she deserves his attention.

“I’ll be home soon.” He promises. “Just four more months. And we’ll be home for at least eight months so I won’t miss the baby’s birth.”

You haven’t been able to leave your house since the day of the wedding, wallowing in your own pity because the man you love is married and has a baby on the way with another woman. You’ve ignored his texts, knowing you need to just shut yourself off from him, you can’t see him again, not yet. Brad even calls to check on you but you tell him you are just going through something and you’re sorry but you’ll call him soon. He’s nice and maybe he will understand you if you explain what happened. For now though, you will wallow and try not to feel guilty for not saying goodbye to Frankie when he’s heading back to an active war zone.

Frankie lands back onto his base, thirty-six hours after leaving and sighs as he shoulders his bag and starts moving towards the area where his team is set up. He’s checked in with Monica, who was in the process of moving into the house on base he had set up before he left. Wishing that you had texted him, but he pushes it aside, knowing that he will have to just view you as his friend’s sister from now on.

“Hey man!” Benny runs towards him and stops short, throwing him a salute since the base commanders get fussy over fraternization in public. They know the teams are all friends but just ask they keep it professional around the regular soldiers. “You’re back!”

Frankie grins, the worries from home sliding away and he nods. “Somebody’s gotta save your ass in a pinch.”

Benny playfully rolls his eyes, “I’m sure I could figure out how to fly a chopper in a pinch.” Frankie guffaws at that, shaking his head at the cockiness of his friend. “So you really did it, huh?” Benny asks, pointing to Frankie’s left hand.

Frankie lifts his hand and looks at him, smirking proudly. “I did.” He tells him. “Got something else to show you too.” He reaches in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet to show Benny the picture of the positive pregnancy test. Monica hadn’t been able to get an ultrasound yet, but he couldn’t wait to see the baby. “Did something else too.”

“Holy shit.” Benny’s eyes widen, “you move quickly. Shit. Just got married and already got her pregnant.”

Frankie rolls his eyes, “she was pregnant when I married her.”

Benny bites his lip, pausing for a second, “so that’s why you married her?” He knows his friend, certain that he wouldn’t have married Monica without the team being there unless there was a reason. When he emailed to tell them he was getting married, they all suspected something else.

“Not entirely.” Frankie shifts slightly and tucks the photo away. “I had been thinking about it. Was going to ask her.” He doesn’t tell your brother that the only reason he was thinking about it was to try to get over you.

“But when she told me she was pregnant?”

He shrugs and looks around. “You know the odds, man.” He tells Benny quietly. “My widow would have more benefits than my pregnant baby momma. So we just moved up the date rapidly.”

Benny nods, understanding how the system works. He knows why Frankie did it but it’s still not what he expected his usually methodical friend to fuck up on. “Let’s get you back. Pope wants to give you shit for missing out on being your best man. I told him to fuck off, that’s my position so you gotta pick one for when we are all back and you’re getting married in a big ole ceremony where we can all get drunk.” Benny grins as he guides Frankie out of the hangar.

“Shiiiit.” Frankie huffs, even as he grins at the other delta team member. “Neither one of you will my best man.” He jokes, just to see Benny pout. “We’ve got to just get through this deployment.”

Benny nods, knowing he needs to get back to his sister and mom along with Will. Plus Tom wants to get back for his family, and Frankie has something to fight for now. “How’s my sister?” Benny asks as they walk towards the barracks.

“She’s, uh, she’s good.” Frankie tells him, nodding to the soldiers that are passing by. Outside buildings, enlisted are not supposed to salute officers for safety. “I spent a lot of time with her while I was home. Keeping her entertained.”

“Hopefully not too entertained.” Benny raises his eyebrows.

Frankie shakes his head. “No more entertained than going to the zoo and the movies.”

Benny hums, “has she got a new boyfriend yet? I don’t want to kill someone as soon as I get home.” He chuckles darkly.

Frankie shakes his head, heart clenching. “At some point she’s gonna want to grow up, hermano.” He reminds Benny. “Just make sure she knows you have her back.” He sighs. “She met someone at the bar, but I don’t think that they are dating yet. She didn’t say.”

Benny frowns at that, “well, I guess we will see what happens. I just- I don’t want to see her get hurt. I saw how broken up Will was and I don’t want that to happen to her. She doesn’t deserve that kind of heartbreak.”

****

The months go by and you’re happy with Brad. You told him about Frankie, warned him that you aren’t ready for anything emotional and he understands. You told him everything and he’s essentially a friend with benefits but both of you are okay with that. Perhaps he wants something more but he’s never made it obvious.

You arrive at the base, eager to see Will and Benny again after so many months. You're there early, practically bouncing on your heels, and you ignore the voice deep down that tells you you are excited to see Frankie. He's married. Just as you think that, Monica appears beside you, looking more than five or six months pregnant, she looks ready to burst. You frown but are distracted when the crowd begins to get louder as the arrivals pour into the hangar.

Shuffling off the bus, Frankie spots Monica and his eyes go wide. “Holy shit man, your wife having twins?” Will asks, making Frankie shake his head.

“God, I don’t know.” He huffs. “She’s said everything is perfect. Maybe I just make big babies?” He glances around and spots you, unable to stop the pounding in his heart at the sight of you. “There’s your sister.”

Your eyes scan the crowd of men and women in uniform until you see Frankie. His gaze is firmly set on Monica, making your stomach sink, until you remind yourself that he isn't yours, he never was. Benny distracts you, scooping you up into a hug and Will isn't too far behind him. "Hey trouble." Benny kisses your cheek sloppily, making you give a false cry of disgust. You've missed them so much. Turning to hug Will, you pull him close, thankful they are both safe and unharmed.

Frankie walks up to Monica, smiling at the sign she’s holding up. “Hey, baby.” He leans in and kisses her, trying not to disturb the baby bump too badly. “How’s everything?”

Monica grins, excited to see Frankie after so long apart. “Hey sweetheart. It’s going well. The bean is healthy.” She chuckles, bringing his hand down to her bump. “I bet you’re exhausted. Come on, let’s go. I have dinner ready for you.” She doesn’t want him hanging around to see you.

You, meanwhile, are hugging Santi who comes up to greet you. The boys look over to see Frankie guiding Monica away from the crowd. “Huh, guess she’s given him her orders.” Tom snorts, reminded of the demanding emails and letters Frankie got from Monica during his deployment.

Benny snorts, shaking his head. “Probably taking him home to fuck him stupid.” He crows, happy that his friend is getting some. “Aren’t pregnant women like super horny? And she’s really pregnant and Fish’s been gone.”

You frown, knowing you shouldn’t care but it still kills you inside. Pope wraps his arm around your shoulders, “come on hermaña, let’s go get a drink. I’m fucking thirsty.” He says, guiding you out and away from Frankie and Monica while your brothers follow.

****

Frankie has been to the house that he is going to share with Monica, to build their family in, one time. The day they got the keys for base housing. She drives, making him shift in his seat slightly as he looks out at the neatly trimmed lawns and sighs when he sees the sign for Capt. Morales. “Home sweet home.” She chirps, pulling into the driveway beside his truck and parking before she sneaks her hand between his legs. “I’ve missed you, baby.” She purrs, horny and wanting him.

Frankie groans, it’s been so long with just him and his hand. He hisses and bucks up into her touch. “Shit baby. Let’s- let’s get inside.” He orders, needing to see the house before he fucks his wife. He’s not gonna last long, it’s been too long without a warm pussy around his cock. He grabs his bag and follows her as she waddles to the front door. “Are you- are you sure you’re okay for sex?” He asks softly, realizing how big she is. He doesn’t want to hurt her.

“Oh yes.” She giggles, climbing out of the car and waddling around it towards the front door. “The doctor said and we are all clear to have as much sex as we want.” She unlocks the door and pushes it open. “So I want you to fuck me from behind, I don’t even care if you last two seconds.”

Frankie nods, knowing that she wouldn’t harm the baby in favor of sex. He tosses his duffel bag down, reaching for Monica to press his lips to hers. “Show me our bedroom, baby.” He orders, reaching for her hand.

Monica guides him through the house, she’s brought over everything from her apartment since he didn’t have any furniture, and has been getting the nursery ready. “God I’ve missed you baby.” She coos. “I know I’m larger than I was when you left, but my pussy is still tight.”

Frankie chuckles, “always was. God I missed you. I wish you had sent me photos of you. Some titty pics would’ve been nice for my mornings in the john.” He teases, reaching for the hem of her shirt, he wants to see the baby bump. He pulls the shirt off of her, kneeling down in front of her to see the bump. “God, they’re a big baby. Hope they haven’t been causing mama too much trouble.” He kisses her bump, unable to believe he’s going to be a father. It feels so real now.

Monica sighs happily, thoroughly pleased with how eager Francisco is to be a father. “Not too much.” She murmurs, running her fingers through his short hair and feeling the stubbly razored edges. “Just a foot in my ribs sometimes.” She bites her lip and reaches for his hands, wanting him to touch her. “Frankie, I need you to fuck me.” She begs, wanting to keep him happy. “Fuck your wife.”

He stumbles to his feet, uninterested in foreplay. He just needs to fuck. He strips his clothes, kicking his boots aside within seconds and he shoves her leggings down. “Kneel on the bed baby.” He orders, reaching down to wrap his fingers around his hard cock. Her tits are bigger and he feels sad for a moment that it isn’t you. You’re not the mother of his child. Monica kneels, giggling as she shakes her ass, and Frankie kneels behind her, spitting into his palm before he notches his cock at her entrance, slowly pushing into her.

“Oh fuck, Fraaaaaankieeee.” Monica moans, arching her back and she clenches down around him. “Fuck baby, I’ve missed that big cock.” She whimpers, knowing how much Frankie loved dirty talk in bed. “Needed you inside me. My toys weren’t enough.” She rocks her hips back and looks over her shoulder. “You won’t hurt me, trust me.”

“Yeah? You want me to fuck that tight little cunt, baby?” He groans, gripping her hips. “Look at you. Full of my baby and desperate for my cock. So fucking beautiful and all mine. God, I- I love you.” He imagines it’s you beneath him. Married to him, pregnant with his child. It’s wrong but his mind just envisions you instead of Monica. What he wanted instead of what he got. He hisses, his cock twitching and within a few thrusts, he buries himself deep and moans your name.

Monica gasps, moving faster than Frankie was expecting for a woman as largely pregnant as she is. Turning around and smacking him in the face. “What the fuck, Francisco?” She screams, face full of fury. “Why the fuck are you moaning her name while your fucking me?” She demands. “Are you fucking her? Have you been cheating on me?!” Her voice pitches up and she starts to have tears roll down her face.

Frankie is still in a haze of lust when she slaps him and his eyes widen. “No. No! Baby. I- shit - I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean - it just slipped out and I- I’m not cheating on you. I’m not fucking her. How could I? I’ve been away for four fucking months?” He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. Please.” He begs, reaching for her. He feels incredibly guilty. He just moaned your name while inside of the mother of his child.

“You fucking asshole!” She jerks away from him and grunts, shuffling awkwardly to the edge of the bed and hefting herself off of it. “I knew it! I knew you were more than friends with that little slut.” She shrieks, ignoring the pain in her back and the way she has ached all day. She was just excited to see Frankie and now that’s ruined. “How many times did you fuck her? She was always around. Mooning at you with hearts in her eyes.”

Frankie shakes his head, “no. No. We are just friends. Jesus, Monica. She’s my best friends’ little sister. They’d have my balls if I even thought about her like that. Please baby. You gotta calm down for the baby.” He pleads, watching her shuffle across the room.

“No. No. You wanted to though. That’s why you went out on so many fucking ‘dates’ with her. Taking her to the fucking zoo. You have never taken me to the goddamn zoo. I - shit.” Monica hisses and Frankie rushes over to her. “Don’t touch me!” She growls before there’s a trickling noise. Both of them look down to see water on the carpet.

“Did you - did you pee?” Frankie frowns.

Monica’s eyes go wide, “my water just broke.”

Frankie’s eyes widen and he panics. “Jesus Christ. It’s not- it’s not time. It’s not time. We gotta get you to the hospital.” Frankie says, reaching for his pants. She’s only six months pregnant, it’s too soon. He will never forgive himself if something happens to the baby because of his slip of the tongue. “Come on. Come on.” He ushers Monica towards the door after shoving on his boots and a shirt before he puts another shirt of his on Monica.

“What the fuck?“ Monica hisses, batting his hands away from her. “Don’t touch me. You said another woman’s fucking naaaaaaaaaame-“ she yells the last word, hunching over one the driveway when another pain hits her, this one stronger than the others now that her water has broken. Panting and and cursing through it with her hands on her knees. “Oh fuck.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry but you need to get to the hospital. Please, we gotta-” He grabs her keys, guiding her towards the car. He helps her into the car despite her screaming at him. He gets into the driver’s seat, backing out of the driving and speeding towards the hospital. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” He promises as she pants.

“Fuck you, Frankie. Fuckkkkk.” She squeals, clutching her stomach.

He’s terrified, the one and only time that he’s had sex with with his wife and not only did he fuck up and say your name, but he did something wrong and made her water break. She was going to hate him. He reaches over and takes her hand, holding firm when she tries to pull away. “Squeeze, baby. Just crush my hand.” He orders her despite everything wrong right now he needs to be there for her. His wife is giving birth to his child, his premie baby.

Monica doesn’t argue, squeezing his hand as she grits her teeth. Upon pulling up outside of the military hospital, Frankie abandons the car outside after Monica is being wheeled into the maternity ward. “It’s gonna be okay.” He promises Monica despite being terrified. He’s not ready. He thought he had more time and he’s already fucked up by causing his baby to be born three months early.

“It’s too soon.” Frankie blurts out when they wheel her into a private room, giving the nurse a frantically pleading expression. “I-I fucked up, we had sex and her water broke.”

The nurse gives him a patient smile, “babies are born when they want to be and not a moment before.” She promises. “We will take good care of your wife and baby.” She’s seen it all before, but she doesn’t voice her opinion. This is not a premature baby, and it’s not too soon. “Let’s get you changed mama.”

Frankie isn’t sure what to do, he’s freaking out but he stays strong for Monica. Helping her onto the bed after she gets changed into a gown. The nurse examines Monica, Frankie holding onto her hand as he almost shakes. He’s faced death head on but he’s never been so scared. “It definitely looks like you’re in labor. Four centimeters dilated so definitely on your way. How far along are you?” The nurse asks, needing to hear it confirmed.

Monica's eyes widen and she throws Frankie a look. “I need my bag.” She insists, pushing at Frankie’s shoulder, frantically. “The bag is in the trunk. Go get it!”

Frankie knows he’s fucked up so he doesn’t argue, nodding and kissing Monica’s hair. “I’ll be right back baby. I gotta park the car too.” He says before making his way out of the room. The nurse waits for Monica to answer her question.

“I’m due next week.” Monica confesses, “don’t tell him. Please. I just- I need to figure out how to tell him myself.” She bites her lip, wondering if the nurse is judging her. She didn’t mean for all this to happen, but when Frankie had wanted to get married, she had kept her mouth shut.

“It’s not my business to tell your husband. Just to make sure that you and baby are okay.” The nurse declares, “so let’s get you comfortable and we will keep checking on you. Do you have a birth plan?” The nurse asks.

“Yes. I wanted to do it naturally.” Monica says, knowing that she had planned that from the moment she found out. The nurse nods.

A few moments later, Frankie returns with Monica’s bag, setting it down on the table. He is sweating, nervous and scared for what is going to happen. “Is everything okay?” He asks the nurse, his heart pounding.

She nods, patting Monica’s thigh gently and draping the sheet over her legs. “Everything is looking good, I’m just going to insert an IV in mom’s arm.” She explains before she moves around to the medical cart. “Although, if you change your mind and want an epidural, you will be able to have one soon. But you can’t wait until your crowning and change your mind. It’ll be too late.”

Monica nods, “I want to do it naturally.” She is adamant, wincing when the nurse inserts the IV.

Frankie is unsure of what to do, no one seems to be worried that this baby is going to be nearly three months early. “Are you not worried?” He asks Monica after the nurse leaves.

“No.” She pants out honestly. “I was early.” It’s true, she had been early, even though that isn’t the case now. “I- if we have a boy, do you-“ She cries out, gripping the edge of the bed and grunts her way through another contraction. Sighing and relaxing against the bed once the pain has passed. “Do you want to name him Francisco Jr. if it’s a boy?” She asks, hoping that it will distract him from worrying about the time. She had been hoping she would be late to deliver the baby.

Frankie knows he should continue the tradition from his father and grandfather but he just prays that the baby is healthy. “Yes. I’d love that.” He leans closer to kiss her forehead. She didn’t find out the gender, deciding they’d have a gender reveal party once he got back but clearly that idea is dead. “Do you need anything sweetheart? Ice chips? Your phone?” He asks her.

“I- I would love some ice chips.” She confesses. “Would you bring me my phone and get some?” Now that she’s in labor, she doesn’t need to stay angry at Frankie, he feels guilty and that’s good enough for right now. Once the baby is born and he signs the birth certificate, she can go back to being angry at him. Including telling him that you will never be allowed near him again.

Frankie nods, grabbing her phone and handing it to her before he leaves the room to hunt down some ice chips. He needs to call Pope too. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he dials his best friend.

****

You laugh at the story Benny is telling about Pope getting slapped by one of the nurses after he told her a dirty joke when the phone rings. Pope frowns, picking up his cell phone. “Hey Fish. What’s up? She’s what? Now? But I thought - she’s early. Shit. Do you want us there?

I - okay. Okay man. Keep me posted. Yeah. Yeah. Tell Monica we said good luck.” He hangs up the phone and looks at the group, all sitting around the table as the crowd at the bar dissipates. “Monica. She’s gone into labor. They’re at the hospital now.” Pope declares and Benny frowns.

“I thought she wasn’t due for another two months or so?” Will tilts his head.

“Apparently she’s early.” Pope says, biting his lower lip as he looks at you. You are staring at the worn coaster on the table, trying to stop the tears from forming. Frankie is going to be a father tonight.

****

Frankie comes back into the room, a large cup full of ice chips from the nurse’s station. Monica is panting, scrolling through her phone and letting family know that she’s in labor. No one lives nearby, so she doesn’t expect anyone to show up. “Here, baby.” Frankie comes over and kisses her forehead before setting the cup down on the rolling tray. “I know it’s shitty, but they want you to have ice instead of water.”

The time passes slowly, Frankie is exhausted. He hasn’t slept since his layover in Germany but he can’t sleep. Thinking about how much his life is gonna change. Monica’s contractions are getting closer together and finally the doctor comes in after it’s announced that it’s time to push. Frankie holds Monica’s hand as she screams, hissing at how tight she grips his hand as she pushes, her nails digging into his flesh.

Monica slumps back against the raised back of the delivery bed. “I can’t do this.” She cries. “I can’t.” Frankie leans over, kissing her forehead again and only wishes once that it was you laying there about to deliver his baby. He pushes the thought away and focuses on his wife.

“You can do it. I know you can.” He promises.

“Almost mama, the baby is crowning beautifully, once more push and the head will be out.” The doctor announces, watching the monitor start to go crazy when another large contraction starts. “Need you to push!”

“You can do it, baby. You can do it. Come on, push.” Frankie orders, brushing Monica’s hair back out of her face. She screams through clenched teeth, sweat beading on her brow.

“The head is out. Okay mama so on the next contraction, I need you to push.” The doctor orders and Frankie is certain Monica’s scream echoes down the hallway so the entire maternity unit can hear her. A few moments later, a baby’s cry fills the room and Frankie chokes on his breath.

The doctor quickly clears the airways and puts the baby on Monica’s chest. “You have a beautifully healthy baby boy.” The doctor comments as the umbilical cord is clamped off. “At least ten pounds, but we’ll find out for sure as soon as we weigh him.”

Frankie frowns, looking at the baby placed on his wife’s chest. He was planning to read baby books upon his arrival home but even he knows that a premature baby is not ten pounds. Also, he looks down at the crying baby and sees he has a different nose. It’s not his signature nose, or Monica’s nose. “Monica…” He trails off, beyond confused.

Monica doesn’t even pay attention to Frankie, too busy staring at her son, tears in her eyes from both the pain of childbirth and the awe inspiring feeling of holding the baby that had been growing inside her for nine months. “Oh my god, look at you.” She coos, touching fingers and toes. “You are gorgeous, are you?“ The baby stops crying when she kisses his wrinkled forehead and the nurse comes over to take him to weigh and measure.

Frankie watches the nurse take the baby away and he turns to look at his wife. “Monica. Look at me.” He orders, needing his answers now. “Premature babies aren’t ten pounds. You need to explain. Now.” He demands, his hands shaking. “Please. I need you to explain.”

Monica bites her lip, tempted to try to convince him that it was just a big baby. But his eyes are wary and she knows he won’t believe it. “I was due next week.” She confesses softly, aware that he will be able to do the math and figure out that she got pregnant while he was still deployed the first time. “Baby- I-“

Frankie shakes his head, immediately doing the math and it doesn’t add up. “Who’s baby is this?” He asks, his voice low and dark. He barely restrains himself. He married her because she got pregnant and now he’s finding out she wasn’t pregnant with his baby.

“You don’t know him.” She assures Frankie, feeling her eyes start to water when she realizes how angry he looks. “He doesn’t matter, he wasn’t what I wanted and it was a mistake. I love you, Frankie. I wanted you, us, our baby.” She whimpers, not admitting that the jerk who had gotten her pregnant had ghosted her after she told him. Which was the week before Frankie got home for his surgery.

Frankie feels like screaming. He married a woman he doesn’t love because she told him she was pregnant with his baby. He let you slip through his fingers because of Monica and he wants to scream and cry. “It’s not our baby. It’s your baby. I- I can’t - how could you do this? I married you because you told me you were pregnant. You knew it wasn’t mine and you- you stopped me from - fuck. You just wanted me to marry you for the benefits. You fucking conned me.” He growls, unable to stop himself.

“No!” Monica shakes her head, tears sliding down her face. “No, I love you.” She promises. “I was going to tell you.I was. I had planned to tell you after I told you I was pregnant and then you were insisting that you propose and we get married.” She sobs. “I just - I was scared and didn’t want you to leave me too.”

Frankie clenches his jaw, tears in his eyes as he looks at Monica. “Tell me one thing.” He orders, “was it a one night stand or did you love him?” It doesn’t make a difference but he needs to know.

Her lower lip trembles and she knows she can’t lie to him about this. Knows that she’s already screwed everything up and he’s going to leave her. “I- I had been seeing him for a year.” She admits. “I loved him too. But I love you, Frankie.” She promises. “I really do.”

Frankie shakes his head, “no. No. You don’t lie to the people you love. Not like that. You should’ve told me. I- I lost out on an opportunity with-” He cuts himself off.

“That stupid little girl?” Monica scoffs, making Frankie narrow his eyes.

“She’s not a stupid little girl and she has more integrity than you. I can’t do this, Monica. I can’t be with you and raise another man’s child. You lied to me. I can’t forgive that. I’m sorry. I can’t - it’s over.” He chokes, wiping his eyes to stop himself from crying. He’s not going to break down yet.

Monica narrows her eyes at Frankie. “Fine.” She spits. “You didn’t love me anyway, and I-“ she chokes up, her own tears spilling down her cheeks and her anger drains away. “It was always her, wasn’t it?” She asks sadly, looking up at the man who was technically her husband but they had never really lived together as such. Frankie thanks God he didn’t give her a general power of attorney while he was gone those months.

“Yes.” He whispers, finally admitting it. Frankie swallows the lump in his throat, “I, uh, you can stay in the house until we get the divorce finalized. I don’t - I’m not a monster to make you leave after you’ve just had a baby. I’ll go get my things and I’m gonna stay with Pope.” He reasons, unsure of what to do right now. He’s just confused and in shock. “Good luck Monica. You’ll need it.” He says, stepping away from her and grabbing his things before he goes outside and orders a taxi to take him to his usual bar. He needs a fucking drink.

****

You are worried about Frankie, he hasn’t called and you are sad that tonight, his family will be complete and you’ll still be pining for him. As you pick up your beer, you mourn the death of your dreams, and take a gulp while Benny rattles on about some op they were involved in. That’s when you see him. Frankie stumbles into the bar, duffel bag over his shoulder and he drops it onto the floor by your table while the group stare at him. “Hey man. Uh, aren’t - aren’t you supposed to be at the hospital?” Pope asks, a frown on his face.

Frankie reaches out, grabbing Benny’s beer and tilts it back, gulping it down like a man dying of thirst. When he slams it back down on the table, he sighs, glancing up and then back down at the table. The wound is still incredibly raw and he’s almost afraid he’s going to cry again. “I- uh, the baby-“ he chokes out, making Benny reach over and clasp his shoulder and the other men get a grim look on their faces, expecting the worst. “The baby is full term. He-he’s not mine.”

To say your jaw drops is an understatement. You had your suspicions when you saw her earlier, no way she was nearly seven months pregnant with that big bump. You can see the pain in Frankie’s eyes and you just want to pull him close and hug him. “Wow. I- shit. Im so sorry, Fish.” Benny says while everyone else processes the news.

“You want a drink? I’ll get you a drink.” Pope says, calling the waitress over for another round plus shots.

“I need a place to stay.” Frankie scrubs his face with his hand. “I’m letting her stay in housing until the divorce, but I can’t stay there.” He’s gone from being married and having a baby to single in a matter of hours. “I can’t believe she tried to pass another man’s kid off as mine. It’s the reason I married her.”

Pope sighs, knowing how insanely hard this must be on Frankie, to be deceived like this. “I would love to have you man but be warned, I haven’t been laid in a while. I’m gonna be catching up.” He confesses, not wanting Frankie to be subjected to the sounds of sex every night.

Frankie sighs, knowing he has no other choice. Benny looks at Will who nods, “you can stay with us. Save you from the sex noises. You know Will won’t be getting laid.” Benny teases, making Will roll his eyes.

Frankie gives a small chuckle. “Not like you’re going to be getting your dick wet.” He scoffs playfully. He isn’t even going to tell them about his other fuck up. That’s too raw and they would beat the shit out of him for thinking about their sister that way.

Benny huffs, pointing at the waitress that had been flirting with him all night. “I’m going home with that one tonight.” He boasts.

You wrinkle your nose, “thank God I have my own place now.” You want to talk to Frankie, give him a shoulder to cry on, but you know that will only hurt you in the long run. Your phone dings with a text and you pick it up. Sighing when you see it’s Brad asking if you want to “hang out” tonight. He hasn’t pushed you for more but you can tell he wants to date you. You aren’t sure what you want, especially with this new revelation that Frankie isn’t the father and he’s divorcing Monica. Still, that doesn’t mean he loves you too. He loved Monica.

“Boyfriend chasing you up?” Pope teases. You set your phone down, clearing your throat.

“When are we going to meet this Brad guy?” Will grumbles and you avoid looking at Frankie when you say, “Frankie has seen him.”

Frankie frowns, looking over to you to confirm and you nod. “The bar?” You prompt, making his eyes widen. “Blondie?” He huffs, heart falling when he realizes that because of Monica he has once again missed out on being with you. “You’re really with him?” The waitress brings back the drinks and Frankie immediately grabs his shot and tosses it back, wincing at the burn.

“Well…not technically. I’m not dating him. It’s just…casual.” You shrug, making your brothers frown at that.

“We need to meet him.” They tell you, speaking at the same time and you shake your head, “no you don’t. It’s not serious.” You look back at Frankie who seems even more deflated than before, no doubt the reality of what happened tonight hitting him.

“But you want it to be?” Pope asks, confused since he knows the truth.

“No. No. He wants - he wants more than I can give him. Emotionally.” You say, your eyes drifting back to Frankie. “Besides, you’re focusing on me when we should be focusing on Frankie.”

“No, please, focus on your sister instead of the dumbass who married a woman he didn’t love because he thought she was pregnant with his baby.” Frankie mutters, shaking his head and gulping down half his beer. “I felt guilty too.” He confesses, glancing at you before he looks away. “That I didn’t love her like I should have.”

You swallow your beer, wondering what he means by that. “It will be okay. At least you found out now instead of further down the line when you were a father to the baby. That would’ve been cruel. It will be okay.” Pope promises Frankie, reaching out to rub his back. You know that tonight, you’ll be finishing with Brad. You still love Frankie and you don’t think that is ever going to change.

The conversation turns around him, drifting away while Frankie finishes his beer and orders another. It was good to know now, Pope was right. Better to know before he got attached to the kid. He sighs and rubs his eyes, exhausted from the entire day. Coming home, Monica going into labor, finding out that he wasn’t the father, all crashing down on him. He stumbles to his feet, unsteady from the day. “Gotta piss.” He mumbles, wandering off to the bathroom.

You watch Frankie go, all of you frowning as you wonder what will happen to him as he processes what has happened to him. You feel so fucking guilty but you are secretly glad this happened. God, you are a terrible person, but you didn’t think Monica was the right woman for him. Even if that woman isn’t you, he deserves better.

Frankie comes back, looking at the beer that he had ordered and doesn’t even want now. Digging in his pockets, he pulls out cash to pay. “Can I get a key?” He asks Will. “I’m just going to bring the mood down and I’m exhausted.” He sighs and glances over at you, wishing he could get a hug or something from you. It sucks that there’s been this wall between the two of you since he got married. You didn’t seem to want to be around him anymore.

Will nods, handing Frankie his keys so he can get into the house. “Alarm is Benny’s birthday since he forgets it.” Will murmurs, making Benny roll his eyes.

Frankie sets the cash down and takes the keys, thanking Will. “I’ll see you soon.” He promises the guys, knowing he needs some space to progress everything. The guys bid him goodbye and you watch him leave the bar.

“I’ll be back.” You tell him, rushing after him. “Frankie,” You call out. He turns around to look at you and you rush up to wrap your arms around him. “I’m so sorry.” You whisper, knowing how hard this must be.

He clings to you, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tight. Sighing softly and leaning his cheek against the side of your head. “I just- I tried to do the right thing.” He chokes out. “She wanted to name him Francisco Jr.” He still can’t believe that she would go so far to try to convince him that it wasn’t his child. That was probably what hurt the most, she knew. She knew that child wasn’t his and she used him to make sure that she wasn’t alone.

You want to go to the hospital and slap Monica for trying to deceive Frankie like this. “I’m so sorry Frankie. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve this.” You pull back and cup his cheeks, “you deserve the best. You deserve to be happy.” You tell him, offering him a watery smile when you know that isn’t with you.

“I think it might be too late for that.” Frankie’s overwrought and emotional but he still thinks you are gorgeous. He burrows into your hand slightly, enjoying the feeling of your touch before he turns his head and ghosts a kiss on your palm. “Thank you.” He murmurs, pulling away before he does something stupid. “I-I should go. You probably have plans to meet your boyfriend.”

You sigh, stepping away from Frankie. Your entire body feels on fire just from being so close and the ghost of a kiss on your palm nearly made your heart burst out of your chest. You nod, stepping away from him, and you know you need to see Brad and tell him it’s over. You can’t continue leading him on when Frankie still has your heart, and will likely always have it.

Frankie smiles, just a half of one, pulling his dimple out but his eyes are dark and sad. “Have a good night.” He murmurs softly, turning to where a line of taxis are waiting since he had Ubered here. He’ll get his truck from the house tomorrow. For now, he just needs to get some sleep.

****

It’s been months since you saw Frankie. That night at the bar being the last time. Before you could finish things with Brad, he had signed up for another deployment, pulled some strings, and left. The boys followed soon after, unable to let him go alone, and you have been worried sick. Worried that they would make a mistake or fuck up because they didn’t have enough time at home. You email your brothers daily, wanting to check in, and you also email Frankie.

You hear the ding and your eyes widen, opening the email from Frankie. He tells you that he’s trying to finalize the divorce and you bite your lip, unsure if you should tell him about your news. You haven’t told Benny or Will yet but Frankie has always been a dear friend and he might be able to help you navigate your protective brothers. “Can you video chat?” You email Frankie, wondering if he can Skype.

Frankie grins, looking around at the other guys in the comm tent before he opens Skype and hits your number. It’s not like you had video chatted with him, but he had your info from your brothers.

“Hey.” You smile when he appears on screen after you accept the video call. You definitely didn’t check your hair before you answered. Definitely not.

“So…what’s the big news?” Frankie asks hesitantly, not a fan of big news nowadays.

You bite your lip, raising your hand to show him the ring on your left finger. “Brad proposed!” You say, trying to sound excited.

Frankie stares at the ring for a second in shock. Seconds ticking by and his heart falling out of his chest and landing at his feet. He blows out a breath and tries to compose himself. “That-that’s great.” He offers hoarsely, wanting to scream about how fucking unfair it is. “Congratulations. Are you going to let your brothers meet him before the wedding?” He teases, chuckling slightly to cover how shaky his voice is.

You bite your lip, “God, they are gonna kill him.” You are nervous, unsure of your decision to say yes but if Frankie hasn’t made any kind of indication that he wants you in the past years, then what can you do? You’re getting older and you don’t want to be alone forever so you decided to accept Brad’s proposal. You hope Frankie will be happy for you, maybe he can help you feel happier about the decision. You’d planned to dump Brad the night Frankie came back but you didn’t, too selfish you suppose. You didn’t want to be alone.

“If he’s what you want, I won’t let them hurt him too badly.” Frankie has to swallow down his pride, his own feelings and put you first. It doesn’t matter that he had planned on asking you out when he got back. He was too late again. “All I want is for you to be happy, baby.” He murmurs, not even realizing he voiced a nickname he’s never said aloud to you before.

The nickname makes your heart thumping and your chest hurts, you want him to be angry, tell you to give the ring back. “Yeah…” You nod, unsure yourself if you’re really that happy. “He’s…he’s good for me. I- I need to grow up.” You tell him, feeling your eyes sting.

Frankie frowns, not likening the way you talk about yourself. He shuffles and leans forward in his seat, getting closer to the camera. “You listen to me.” He tells you firmly. “You don’t need to do anything but be exactly who you are. You’re perfect and if that asshole can’t see that, I don’t think you should marry him.” Is it wrong of him to try to make you doubt it? Absolutely. But he also is human and wants to make sure you don’t make the same mistake he did.

Your heart pounds, looking into his dark eyes as he stares at you through the camera. “I- I have to. He asked and I accepted and he - he makes me happy.” You tell him, not lying. Brad does make you happy, he distracts you from thinking about Frankie. “I’m happy.” You try to convince Frankie, part of you hoping he will protest and tell you not to marry him. “We won’t get married until you are all back.”

He knows you think the small sigh he makes is relief, but it’s disappointment. “You better.” He teases. “Benny would have a stroke and Will would start counting the number of ways he can hide Brad’s body.”

You chuckle, “hopefully it doesn’t come to that when I tell them.” You wonder if Benny and Will would react the same way if it was Frankie you were engaged. “How’s things over there?” You ask him. He catches you up before the timer for his allotted time goes off. “I’ll talk to you soon Frankie.” You smile sadly, missing him and knowing you shouldn’t miss him all at the same time.

****

Frankie sighs as the plane's wheels touch down. This time there’s nothing to look forward to. You will be there, of course, but he doesn’t know if he wants to see the ring on your finger again. It’s selfish but he wants to pretend for just a little longer that you are still capable of being his. “I can’t wait to get home.” Benny moans, looking back from his seat at Frankie. “Don’t goddamn leave again.” He glowers at his friend playfully.

Frankie rolls his eyes. “Didn’t they tell us we are mandatory stateside for at least eight months?” He snarks back “Maybe you can get laid in that amount of time.”

Benny chuckles, “at least one of us will be getting some.”

Frankie snorts, knowing he’s not ready to get involved in anything right now. Not when he’s got to watch you get married to Brad. Ugh, even his name is terrible. He knows this is karma for him making you watch him marry Monica but he wanted you there that day, it allowed him to think he was marrying you instead. Stupid fantasy.

“Finally we get to meet this Brad douchebag.” Benny says, cracking his knuckles as the plane comes to a stop and everyone grabs their bags.

“Don’t run him off, Ben.” Frankie murmurs seriously. “Your sister deserves to be happy.”

Benny huffs, offended that he would say that and shakes his head. “If I can run him off, then he wasn’t good enough for her to begin with.” He says as they shuffle through the door. Frankie winces in the bright sunlight and starts looking around for you as he follows behind the Miller brothers, bringing up the rear and honestly trying to avoid this bleak homecoming.

You stand there, rocking on your heels as you search for your brothers…and Frankie. Brad insisted on coming, wanting to greet your brothers and introduce himself. You aren’t sure if it’s the best idea but you didn’t deny him, knowing he’s gonna have to meet them eventually. “Hey trouble.” Benny greets you, rushing up to hug you and you are so glad they are both okay and alive. Brad stands awkwardly to the side of you as Frankie approaches.

“Don’t smother her.” Will huffs, deciding to turn to Brad and extend his hand. “Will.” He offers, making sure that his grip is slightly firmer than it needs to be. You are his baby sister even if you aren’t blood related.

Frankie waits until Benny lets go of you and sends you a smile. “Hey.” He wants to hug you but it’s a little awkward, leaning instead of dragging you against him like he wants to. “It’s good to see you.” He murmurs in your ear. “Missed you.”

You hate how your heart lurches and you realize you still love him. You smile, “I missed you too.” You rub his arm and step back towards Brad. “So, uh, this is Brad.”

Your fiancé is like an eager puppy, desperate to please and impress. “Hey. It’s so great to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” Brad reaches out to shake Frankie’s hand.

God, he wants to hate him. He really does, his own hand reluctant as he grips the hand of the man who has you. He nods. “Francisco.” He tells him, sure that his nicknames will come out eventually. He doesn’t squeeze his hand, instead he just keeps his eyes on Brad’s steadily. Making sure the man knows that he’s not overlooking a thing.

Your eyes flick between Brad and Frankie, unsure if you want them to get along or not. “We will have to get a beer sometime, you can tell me some stories about this one. She’s so closed off sometimes.” Brad says as he steps back to wrap his arm around your waist.

“Anyway. I’m sure the fellas will want to get settled.” You say, glad the awkward moment is over. “Where’s Pope?” You ask, looking behind them to see Tom already greeting Molly and the girls.

“He’s meeting Martha. The girl who has been sending him Polaroids.” Will chuckles, looking over his shoulder to see Pope kissing a woman.

“On that note, let’s get you guys home.” You chuckle, rubbing Brad’s chest. Your brothers nod and Frankie trails behind you as you walk towards the parking lot. He doesn’t know how he’s going to handle this when he sees Brad’s hand shift lower to the top of your ass.

Frankie sighs, reaching up and rubbing his cheek. This week Monica is moving out of the house on base and he has to make sure that everything is clean so he doesn’t get charged for everything. He reaches out and touches your shoulder, making you turn and Brad’s hand falls away from your ass. Something that makes Frankie very happy. “I hate to ask you a favor.” He huffs, tilting his head. “Would you help me do a walk through of the house later this week, make sure I don’t miss anything?” He asks you. “I have to turn the keys over as soon as possible so I can get a room in the Bachelor’s quarters.”

You nod, offering him a soft smile, and you wish you could pull him close and thank God that he’s still alive and unharmed. “Come on baby, let’s go. I’m sure the fellas want some drinks and some sleep.” Brad says, distracting you from Frankie’s dark eyes that burn into yours. You offer Brad a smile, once again reminded of your lack of intense love for him but you promised to marry him, and you can’t break that promise on a maybe with Frankie.

He wishes you would smile at him like that, and be going home with him. He knows that you would already be halfway there if he was with you, eager to get you alone and kiss you, touch you. His cock twitches at the thought and he sighs. “Yeah.” He agrees, turning towards Will’s truck you had brought for them to drive back. “Sleep.” He looks at you again. “See you later.”

****

You have been avoiding Frankie since he got back, terrified of changing your mind about marrying Brad. You feel awful but you are scared to end up alone, missing out on a family of your own because you are still pining after Frankie. You love Brad, in your own way, and you know he’s going to be a good husband. You have picked everything out for the wedding and now it’s time. You didn’t want anyone around you the night before the wedding, especially after talking to Brad earlier. You hadn’t want to live with Brad until after you were married, despite his insistence, and you pretended it’s because you wanted to be traditional. He accepted that but really, you needed the space to come to terms with your decision.

Frankie shuffles, having stood outside your apartment door for nearly twenty minutes. He’s honestly surprised no one has called the cops on him. He can’t do this. He can’t watch you marry this asshole. Even if Brad isn’t an asshole. He’s been out with him and your brothers a few times. ‘Bonding time’ as you insisted on calling it, even if you weren’t there. He’s barely seen you and he’s going crazy. Huffing, he reaches out and knocks on the door before he can stop himself again, telling himself he’s just checking up on you and he’s not trying to stop your wedding.

You set your glass of wine down, pausing the tv from whatever horror movie was playing to try and distract yourself, and you swallow harshly when you look through the peephole and see Frankie. Unlocking the door and opening it, your heart flutters in your chest when you see him. “Hey.” You greet him softly, wondering what he wants at this hour.

“Hey.” He exhales when he sees you, heart pounding and his hands are suddenly fucking damp. Him. The man who can fly a chopper under hostile fire without breaking a sweat is about to pass out from nerves. “Can I come in?” He asks, not wanting to have this conversation out on your step. If he’s wrong, if you don’t think of him as anything more than a friend, he can loose you and it terrifies him.

You nod, stomach twisting as he steps into your apartment and you guide him towards the sofa. “You want something to drink? Coffee? Beer? Wine?” You ask, watching him rub his hands on his jeans as he sits down on your sofa. “Beer would be good.” He says, knowing he likely won’t drink it but he might need a sip. You grab him a beer and set it down on the coffee table in front of him. “Are you okay?” You ask, noticing how tense he seems.

“Yeah.” He breathes out before he wipes his hands on his pants and looks at you, swallowing harshly. “No.” He admits, lunging for the beer and taking that sip before he sets it back down. “I’m not coming tomorrow.” He announces, blurting out that instead of casually asking if you are sure this is what you want. “I can’t.”

You frown, “why not?” You are confused, unable to stop yourself from reaching for his hand. “Frankie. I- I don’t understand. Do you- is there - why?” You ask breathlessly, feeling your chest tighten at the thought of not having him there to support you.

Now that he’s said it, there’s no way he can’t tell you. He lurches to his feet and starts to pace in front of the coffee table, feeling like his heart is about to rip out of his chest. “I can’t. I just- it’s wrong I know it.” He rambles, not even looking at you. He can’t right now. “I know you were there for me when I married Monica but it’s different.” He blows out.

“How?” You demand but he just keeps going.

“They’ll kill me, but it’s not like I could help it. You’re- you’re you. How could I not?” He asks, stopping and staring at you for a second before he starts pacing again. “I know you don’t love me and that’s fine. I get it, I’m too old for you. But you can’t expect me to watch you marry some other guy when all I want is for it to be me up there with you.” He finishes breathlessly, turning to look you in the eyes when you tell him you don’t feel the same way. “I can’t. I can’t watch the woman I love marry another man.”

You stare at him, shock surging through your body and you can’t move for a few moments. Then you get angry. “Are you serious? You- you made me watch you marry Monica, made me watch her - I thought she was pregnant with your baby. I had to watch her - her make a home for you both. For your family.” Your chest heaves as you stand up. “I- I was there for you despite my heart fucking breaking because the man I’ve been in love with since I was seventeen was marrying another woman. I - you drive me crazy. I can’t keep away from you despite it killing me every time I see you because I can’t - I can’t be with you. All you’ll ever see is that awkward seventeen year old. You- I love you. I love you. I just- how dare you say that now when I- when I am just trying to move on from you.” You choke, stepping closer and slapping his chest.

Frankie captures your hand, holding it against his chest, letting you feel how hard his heart is hammering underneath it. “Not see you as anything but an awkward seventeen year old?” He shakes his head. “I’ve wanted you since you were - fuck, you were nineteen went I realized that you were a full fucking grown woman that I seriously wanted to take to bed. Twenty when I realized I was in love with you” He admits. “I just- you’re my friends - my brother’s sister.” He murmurs. “I never wanted you to be - I didn’t think…”

He takes another deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have done this to you.” He shakes his head again and lets go of your hand. “I’m always too fucking late.” He chuckles. “You are dating someone, or I am, or the bullshit with Monica.” He closes his eyes and nods before he opens them, devastation in them but he opens his mouth. “I- I’ll be there.” He promises you, knowing that he owes you that. “If you really want to marry this man, I’ll be there and I won’t say a word. But, if he’s not what you want….”

You shake your head. “The wedding is off. I- I spoke to him about an hour ago. I - I met him at the bar and explained that I couldn’t marry him because I’m in love with you. He knew - he knew that he could never have my whole heart, that it belonged to you. He obviously wasn’t happy but I- I couldn’t stand there and marry him and pretended - pretend like my heart, my body, my soul belongs to you. I love you Frankie. It’s always been you.” You confess.

Relief floods his entire body, making him feel almost lightheaded. He doesn’t even think, doesn’t try to stop himself. Surging forward to grab your waist and cup the back of your head, his lips slot desperately over yours. Needing to taste you and kiss you. He’s needed to for so long but right now he has to. Make sure that he’s not dreaming this. He moans when you respond, your hands racing up to grip his back and he shudders when your mouth eagerly opens so he can deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue inside your mouth to touch yours possessively.

Your body both relaxes and lights up, your tongue tangling with his as you press yourself up against him with a moan. It’s intense and it feels so damn right. You tangle your fingers in his hair, unable to get close enough to him now that you know he loves you.

Frankie groans, loving how quickly you are melting in his arms, turning and starting to shuffle you back towards the couch. Kissing you for another moment before he breaks away to kiss along your jaw. “I- baby- we need to-” He tries to talk while kissing you, sliding a hand around to squeeze your ass and moaning again at the feel of your body in his hands. “Hang on.” He pulls away, panting and trying to calm himself down. “It’s done? You’re done with Brad?” He asks, needing to make sure.

You nod, your chest heaving. “It’s over. I gave him back the ring. We are done.” You promise, looking into his eyes. You wouldn’t lie to him and you couldn’t lie to yourself. It wasn’t what you wanted, Brad wasn’t what you wanted and you came to the decision that you’d rather be alone than be with a man you only sort of love. It was wrong of you to accept the proposal but you never lied to Brad about your feelings. You grab onto Frankie’s shoulder, desperate for him as you push him down onto the sofa and straddle him. “It’s over.” You vow, leaning forward to kiss Frankie’s jaw.

“Fuck.” He shudders, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you down against his hard cock. Grinding up against your soft, hot core through your sleep shorts and his jeans. He can feel the heat and he thinks he might die if you don’t let him touch you. “Baby, let me take you to bed.” He begs, wanting nothing more than to sink into you, make you his. He slides his hands under your shirt and caresses your back. “Let me make love to you.”

You whine, unable to believe this is happening after thinking about it for so many years. “Yes. Yes. Please Frankie. I- I need you.” You beg, reluctantly getting out of his grip so you can stand. You reach for Frankie’s hand and he stands up so you can guide him down the hall to your bedroom. You exhale shakily, heart fluttering as you stand in front of Frankie in the dim light of your bedroom. Your eyes meet his and you reach for the hem of his shirt, needing it off of his body.

LIfting his arms, he helps you take off his shirt, unable to believe that this is finally happening. “I- uh, I haven’t had sex with anyone since…” He blows out a breath. “Since Monica.” He tells you, lifting his brows earnestly. “I’m clean. Tested after I found out.” He had been a little fucking annoyed about having to go get tested, having lectured several younger soldiers about STDs when they had come to him about their shit burning when they pee. He flicks the button of his jeans open and takes out his wallet. “But I have a condom if you want.”

You shake your head, “it’s up to you baby. I - I haven’t had sex with Brad for a while and I- we always used condoms. Told him I didn’t want to get pregnant even if I’m on birth control. I am clean and I want to feel you. Every inch of you.” You tell him, pulling your shirt over your head to expose your tits.

“Fuck.” He tosses his wallet down and reaches up to cup both of your tits in his hands. “You know how many times I’ve wanted to see these?” He moans, brushing his thumbs over your stiff nipples and squeezing them. “Suck on them and see if you liked that?” He watches you as he ducks his head and wraps his lips around a nipple.

You gasp, a moan escaping your lips as he eagerly sucks on your nipple before he switches over to the other one. “Fuck baby. I- I’ve imagined this way too many times. Especially seeing you in uniform. God, wanted you to fuck me wearing your uniform.” Your deepest fantasies are spilling out of you now as you caress his back.

He groans, kissing the top of your breast and up your chest as he stands back up, sliding his hands around your body to push your shorts down. “I will.” He promises, finding your lips again and pecking them again hungrily. “Gonna fuck you every way you want.” He huffs out, hating to let go of you so he can start pushing his own jeans down his hips.

You watch him as he pushes his jeans down along with his boxers, and you kick your shorts aside as you inhale sharply at the girth and size of his cock. “Fuck me. How - God, you - wow.” You exhale, unable to stop yourself from reaching out to wrap your fingers around his cock to feel how thick he is.

“Shit.” He hisses at the feeling of you touching him. Closing his eyes and rocking his hips forward into your grip. It’s been so fucking long since he’s been with someone. The day his marriage fell apart, and you are the woman he’s always dreamed of. “Fuck, fuck…” He bats your hand away and shakes his head. “I’m not going to last if you touch me, baby.” He confesses. “I want you too much.”

“It’s okay. I don’t care. I just want to feel you.” You tell him, letting go of his cock and you step closer to wrap your arms around his neck, dragging him down for a kiss as you press yourself against him and trap his cock between you so it’s pressed against your stomach. You walk backwards towards your bed, needing to feel more of him.

He feels when your body falls back, dragging him with you. His arms come out from around you, bracing on the bed so he doesn’t hurt you. Staying as close as possible while cushioning his weight off you. It’s intoxicating how quickly your legs open for him, wrapping around his waist and he thanks God you haven't been wearing underwear. HIs cock sliding down to press against your cunt and he rolls his hips forward, groaning against your lips while he reaches between you and lines up, quickly pushing inside of you a few inches.

You hiss at the stretch, wet but not wet enough to take Frankie’s impressive girth. “Shit. Frankie. I- give me a second. You’re - you’re so thick. It - it stings. Hang on.” You rasp, wishing you could just take him fully inside of you but his impressive cock is stretching you.

Frankie freezes, pulling out of you quickly and shuffling down your body. “Wait-” He shakes his head and spreads your legs wider, settling between them. “Should have done this first.” He tells you, leaning in and sliding his tongue through your folds. He doesn’t care that he’s having to wait to be inside you, he wants you to enjoy every second of him inside you. Slightly cocky because of you needing a moment. “Cum on my tongue first, baby.”

You cry out when his tongue flicks over your clit, intense and honestly the best feeling you’ve ever felt. No one has made you feel like this. You reach down to tangle your fingers through his hair as he laps at your clit. “God baby. It’s - it’s good. Just need - suck on my clit. I need more.” You order, wanting him to know what you like.

He shifts, obeying your order quickly and huffing into your cunt when you give him a loud moan. He loves that sound, pretty and pleading as it comes out of your throat. Making his cock leak into your sheets and he knows that you are just going to be perfect when you cum. He sucks, lets go to nibble and lick before he sucks again, groaning when you pull on his hair, dark eyes watching your face.

Your hips rock up into his face, unable to stop yourself as he makes you feel better than you have in years. “Fuckkkk Frankie. Feels so - so fucking good baby.” Your chin comes down to rest on your chest, watching him as he watches you, his jaw stretched wide so he can access every inch of your cunt. “Fingers. Need your fingers to stretch me out.” You plead, reaching for his hand to grab onto.

He grunts, lacing the fingers of his one hand with yours while he moves to wet his others with your slick. Slowly pushing them inside you gently and groaning at how tight you are. No wonder you had stopped him. His cock twitches but he ignores it, concentrates on making you feel good and get you ready to take him.

Your walls flutter around his fingers when he resumes sucking on your clit and you are poised to cum. “Shit, Frankie. Yes. Yes. Gonna - gonna cum.” You cry, feeling that tension in your stomach as your thighs begin to shake.

He watches you carefully, needing you to cum for him. Needing to see and hear you, feel you come apart for him, because of him. He curls his fingers up and groans when your entire body tenses up, cock nearly exploding when he hears you cry out his name loud enough that your neighbors will hear. He wants them to hear.

Collapsing back against the bed, you pant as he works you through your orgasm and you swear it’s the best you’ve ever had. “Shit. Frankie. I- I need you.” You plead, reaching down to grab onto his shoulder, wanting him to come up to you.

He huffs, kissing up your body as he works his way up to press his lips to yours. “I love you.” He promises, settling over you again. He’s desperate to be inside you, but he doesn’t want to hurt you again. This time starting to press into you slowly.

Your mouth falls open as he pushes into you, making you sigh his name as the sting is gone, leaving only pleasure. Your hands grip his upper arms, your eyelashes flutter as you watch him while he pushes into you. When he is pressed against your cervix, you kiss his chin. "I love you, Francisco." You whisper, your heart feeling like it's gonna pound out of your chest.

“I love you, baby.” He pants out, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours while he just absorbs the feeling of you around him. It’s probably the best fucking thing he’s ever felt in his entire life. “God I love you, always loved you.” He promises, rocking his hips slowly to pull back. “You are amazing. Fuck you feel perfect.”

You cup his cheeks, keeping your eyes fixed on his as he rocks into you. Your legs wrap around his waist to lock your ankles together, keeping him as close as possible. “It’s always been you. Always you. Fuck, Frank. You feel so good.” You whimper.

It’s perfect. He can’t take his eyes off of you as he slowly works himself in and out of your body. Lasting longer than he thought it would, groaning everytime you clench around his length and makes his eyes flutter at how tight you are gripping him. “You - baby, fuck, you’re so good.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to yours again.

“Cum if you want. We have the rest of our lives to do this.” You smile, wanting to see him when he orgasms. “Cum for me baby. I want - I want to feel it.” You rock up to meet his thrusts, grinding up against him, your tits pressed against his chest.

“God.” He groans, his pace picking up to quick, hard thrusts. He can’t help it. You are his dream girl and he’s waited forever to have you. “Fuck- love you.” He pants out, hips faltering as he thrusts once more before burying his cock deep and groaning your name while he fills you up.

You caress his neck and shoulders as he stiffens above you. Making you moan his name as he paints your walls with his cum. The look on his face has you close to cumming but you just kiss his jaw, loving the way he groans your name as he rocks himself through his orgasm.

“Oh fuck.” He pants, his body relaxing and he leans down to kiss you again and again before he rolls off of you. “Fuck, you didn’t cum.” He pouts, looking over at you and turning to curl up against your side, sliding his hand down to your still spread legs. “You want to cum baby? Cum on my fingers? Or do you want to get a toy to help you cum?”

You turn to look at him, “I want you to fuck me with your fingers. I’m close, baby. Won’t take long.” You promise, moaning when his fingers push into you, his cum squelching as it drips onto your sheets. “Yessss.” You sigh, closing your eyes at how his thick fingers feel inside of you.

“Fuck, I’m going to live right here.” He coos, pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt and leaning in to kiss along your jaw. “I’m gonna just fuck you, make you cum as many times as I can. I want you to cum for me, baby.” He orders, wanting to see you cum again. To hear his name on your lips again.

You love hearing his words, unable to believe you are finally experiencing him like this. Your walls flutter around his fingers, close to an orgasm. “Frankie. Oh God. I’m gonna - I’m gonna-” You cry out, clamping down on his digits.

Brushing his nose against your cheek, he moans while you cum apart for him. He works you through it, keeping his fingers deep inside you, making sure that you are riding it out while he pushes against that spongy spot. “I love you.” He whispers, sighing softly and kissing your cheek.

You push his hand away, shifting to press your lips against his. "I love you. I can't stop saying it. I never - I never thought you felt the same way. Frankie...I want to spend the rest of my life with you. This isn't - I don't want to be your girlfriend for the next year. I want more. Not right now. But eventually, I want you to be my husband, the father of my children." You lay your cards out on the table, wanting him to know exactly how you feel.

Frankie sighs happily, smiling before he kisses you again. “I want that too.” He promises. “I - when I married Monica, I - I was wishing it was you.” He confesses. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know you thought of me as anything but your brother’s friend, as your friend.” He nudges his nose against yours. “I want to marry you too, when you’re ready. And have kids.”

You caress his cheek as you swing your leg over his hip, trying to get as close as possible. "I want to keep this between us for now. I know my brothers...they will think that I am rebounding after Brad and I want them to freak out as little as possible about us." You murmur, tracing his lips as his mustache tickles your fingertips.

Frankie frowns but he nods. He knows that your brothers would think that he was taking advantage of you when you were vulnerable no matter what he said. He sighs and reaches up to capture your hand and kisses your fingertips. “We announce it at your pace.” He promises you.

****

You carry the bowl of potato salad into the kitchen, wondering when Frankie is going to "arrive." You arrived at Benny and Will's cookout separately to not rouse suspicion. You set the potato salad down, glancing around as Martha - Pope's current girlfriend - fusses over the guacamole she bought over. "Hey trouble." Will greets you, kissing your cheek as he leans over your shoulder. You hear the doorbell ring and smirk as you realize that must be Frankie.

Benny opens the door, grinning happily. “There he is!” Your brother crows happily. “Did you finally drag yourself out of your mystery lady’s bed in order to join us?” He asks slyly, making Frankie grunt and roll his eyes. He has been asking, hinting about who Frankie has been spending time with. “You don’t live in the BOQ and you don’t live with any of us, so you must be shacked up with your hunny.” He throws his arm around Frankie as he teases him. “When are we going to meet this girl that has you smiling that silly ‘I just got laid’ grin?”

Frankie huffs and pushes Benny’s arm off of him. “Told you I’m just laying low.”

You bite your lip, trying to smother your own grin. You and Frankie have been so fucking happy. You don't think you've ever been happier, spending Sundays wrapped up in bed with him, cooking meals together, and the most intense sex you've ever had. No wonder he is grinning, you can't seem to stop your own smiles. "Leave Frankie alone. He's enjoying himself." You wink at Frankie as you stand beside Benny. "Hey Frankie." You say, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I am so wet for you baby." You quickly whisper in his ear, unable to help yourself when he looks so damn good in those jeans and that Standard Oil hat.

Frankie grunts, narrowing his eyes slightly at you when you pull away. “Hey squirt.” He’s taken to calling you annoying nicknames since the two of you had gotten together. “How are you?” He asks like he hadn’t just kissed you twenty minutes before when you left to go to your brother’s house. So far Benny and Will aren’t suspicious and you hadn’t wanted to rock the boat just yet, enjoying the honeymoon phase of the secret relationship.

"I'm good." You nod, trying not to act too giddy.

Benny huffs, "she's been in a good mood too. Ever since she dumped Brad and wasted a shit ton on a wedding that never happened, she's been practically intolerable. Well...more than normal." Benny teases, making you nudge him in the side.

"Come on man, I'll get you a beer. Tom and Pope are outside arguing over the best way to cook a goddamn steak." Will says, throwing his arm around Frankie's shoulders to guide him outside. “Even though we’re having burgers.”

"You do look happy." Molly comments, making you shrug.

"Just happy being by myself. I feel like I am finally where I belong." You half lie, making her hum before she walks over to Martha to help her carry the sides to the table set up outside.

Frankie takes the beer, watching with amusement as Tom and Pope bicker over the way to tell a steak is perfectly done. Pope insisted medium rare was correct, which it was. While Tom insisted that a well done steak was the only way to eat one. He shakes his head and takes a sip of his beer after Will hands it to him, laughing at the two men and glancing over as you step outside to grab your own beer out of the cooler. He can’t believe that he’s finally with the woman that he loves. All he needs is for you to tell your brothers and for them to not kill him and everything would be right in the world.

"So Fish...are you gonna spill the beans? Who's pussy has you grinning like you won the fucking lottery?" Tom asks as he flips one of the burgers. You are sitting down at the table with Molly and Martha, engaged in your own conversation.

Pope nods, "I haven't seen you since we got back, seems like you've been busy."

“Just taking some time for myself.” Frankie shrugs, taking another sip of his beer. “Happy I dodged a bullet with Monica and happy to be stateside for awhile.” He shuffles and looks around. “How are things with Martha?” He asks Pope, trying to change the subject

Pope grins, looking over at his girlfriend. “Really good. I- I know I’m usually a fuck and duck kind of guy but I like her. Not sure it’s love yet but she’s good for me.” You look over your shoulder as the men all glance over after Pope responded to the question and your eyes meet Frankie’s, deciding to stand up while everyone is outside and busy. You know he will know the look as you make your way inside the house.

He sets a timer in his head. Ninety seconds before he joins you. “You seem happy, man.” He acknowledges, ripping his head back to drain the rest of his beer. “You deserve it, she’s great.” That he’s being honest about. He does like Pope’s girlfriend and he wants his friend to be happy.

“Yes she is.” Pope agrees with a sappy grin.

Frankie tosses the bottle in the can set up and looks around. “I’m going to take a piss and grab another beer.” He offers before he turns and heads towards the house, eager to be alone with you again.

You are washing up some of the dishes for your brothers when Frankie wraps his arms around you. You set the clean bowl down, turn off the faucet and dry your hands as he kisses along your neck. You hum, tilting it before you spin in his arms, pressing your lips to his. “So dumb. Already miss you.” You murmur against his mouth, gripping his shirt in your fingers to keep him close as he presses you into the kitchen counter.

“You’re a fucking tease.” He complains, sliding his hands down and moving them up underneath the dress you are wearing. “Wearing this fucking dress. Telling me you're wet.” He growls and slides his fingers along the slick seam of your panties. “God, I love you.” He murmurs, rubbing your clit while he hisses along your jaw.

You gasp, moaning softly when his fingers dip under the elastic of your panties to discover how wet you are. “I- I can’t help it. You turn me on with just a look. When I - shit.” You hiss when he slowly rubs your clit, “when I saw you walk in with those jeans and that hat, I was soaking. You’re too fucking sexy Francisco Morales.” You giggle breathlessly, kissing his ear as he kisses along your jaw.

“You’re too sexy.” He groans, cock throbbing in his jeans as he slides his fingers inside you. Unable to resist fingering you in your brother’s kitchen because of how damn irresistible you are. “You want to cum on my fingers?” He coos in your ear. “Have me finger you while your brothers are outside?”

You bite your lip to smother your moan. “God, yes. Please Frankie. Baby, want you to make me cum on your fingers and then - then we are gonna go out there and act like nothing happened. Our sexy secret. You eating - eating a burger and tasting me on your fingers.” You tilt your head back as his thumb presses against your clit. “I’ll make it up to you later. Give you a - a blow job.” You promise breathlessly.

“Hmmmm.” Frankie’s cock twitches, dribbling a small spurt of precum into the fabric of his boxers. “I love seeing your pretty little mouth around my cock.” He twists his wrist to start curling his fingers up into you. “On your knees with your eyes watering, begging me to fill that mouth with my cum.”

You cling to him, so close to your orgasm when his fingers curl just right. “Love- love sucking your cock. Love it when you cum down my throat. God Frankie. I- oh God. Oh fu-” You don’t get to finish your moan when Benny walks into the kitchen.

“Fuck! What the fuck is going on here?” He yells, rushing over to drag Frankie off of you and your eyes are wide, blood now cold as Benny pushes Frankie whose fingers are wet with your arousal and his jeans still tented with his hard cock.

“Shit! I can-“ Frankie holds his hands up, ready to talk to your brother when he swings, belting Frankie in the face. “Fuck!” Frankie doubles over and squeezes his eyes shut, not doubting for a second that the younger Miller brother just broke his goddamn nose. “Fuck!”

“Benny!” You scream, reaching out to grab your brother's arm. “Stop! Stop! Don’t - don’t hurt him anymore. Please don’t.” You plead but Benny goes to hit Frankie again. “Stop! You need to fucking stop! I love him!” You yell, chest heaving as the rest of the boys come into the kitchen to see what has happened.

Frankie clutches his nose, blood pouring out and Will steps between them. “Oh fuck.” Tom groans. “You’ve been fucking the sister, Cat?”

Benny huffs and Will turns around, glaring at his younger brother and grabbing his neck. “Stand down.” He growls, before he turns back to you. “What the fuck is going on?” Will demands.

You stride over to Frankie after grabbing a clean tea towel, “I- I love him Will. I have loved him since I was seventeen and I- he’s the reason I couldn’t marry Brad. He’s always had my heart and I- I am in love with him. I love you and Benny but you won’t stop me from being with Frankie. I wanted to tell you guys properly but - shit. Are you okay baby?” You ask Frankie, brushing his hair back since Benny knocked it off of his head.

Frankie glowers at Benny, pissed off that he had broken his nose, but he nods, pulling his hand away so you can look. “Fuck Ben, why do you hit first and ask later?” He hisses, wincing when you touch the rag to his nose. “I love your sister. I’m not going to fucking hurt her.”

You turn to look at Benny, “I have never been happier. I love Frankie. He’s the love of my life, always has been. Please Benny, he was just - it was me who started it. He’s - I’ve never been happier. He makes me happy.” You tell your brothers, hoping they accept this.

“Fuck.” Benny huffs, turning around and rubbing his hand over his face. “I’ll get some ice.” He mutters and Will pins you with a disappointed look.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” He asks, making Frankie almost snort and then give a small groan from the pain. Black eyes are already blooming and making him look like a raccoon although the bleeding is slowing down.

“Would you have listened to her?” Frankie demands. “If she told you that I hadn’t taken advantage of her after she broke off her wedding? She gets babied by you two. Too much.”

You dab under Frankie’s nose before turning back to look at Will. “It’s true. I love you both so much but you would’ve freaked out no matter how you found out about me and Frankie. Please, just - just let me be happy. For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong.” You confess, knowing the Miller family has been good to you and you love them dearly but you always felt a little out of place since you’re adopted. With Frankie, you feel like you’re home.

That makes Will deflate, his shoulder dropping and Benny comes back with an ice pack, a wounded look on his face. “We- we made you feel like you didn’t belong?” He asks quietly, heartbroken at the thought, and hands you the ice pack, one he uses when he fights on the weekends.

You shake your head, taking the ice pack and Frankie hisses when it’s pressed to his nose. “You did nothing wrong. I love you both so much and your parents, they took me in and treated me like their own, but I was adopted. I don’t even remember my birth parents. I know it’s hard to understand but it felt like a part of me was missing. It still does, but with Frankie, I feel like I’m home. He’s my home. You will always be my family, always, but Frankie is the - the man I love for the rest of my life. Please, can you accept that? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you both earlier but I love him and I- I plan to marry him and have a family with him.”

“Shit.” Benny groans, closing his eyes and sighing. Will nods, feeling the exact same way as his younger brother. You aren’t joking. You are in love with Frankie. You never sounded this sure about Brad.

“And you?” Will asks, needing reassurances from his teammate and friend. The man he thought of as another brother.

Frankie lowers the ice pack from his face and gives both of them a solemn look. “I’m going to marry your sister.” He tells them. “And I’m going to have kids with her, build a life and love her until the day I die.”

You can’t stop the silly smile on your face as you look at the man you love, his nose stained with blood and eyes bruised. You’d kiss him if you could. Everyone notices the way you smile at each other when Frankie’s eyes meet yours until he hisses his pain. “You hurt her, no one will find your body.” Will warns before he looks at Benny, silently telling him to accept this.

Frankie nods, relieved that the older, more levelheaded brother is accepting the two of you this easily. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.” He tells Will truthfully, although he would never hurt you. Turning to Benny, he waits for his friend's reaction. Benny sighs again, shaking his head and reaching out to slap Frankie on the shoulder. “Sorry about the nose man.” He apologizes with a huff. “It’s not everyday you walk in on your best friend fingering your sister.”

You can’t help but fluster at that. “Sorry about that man. She’s just-” Frankie shakes his head, cutting himself off before he gets into any more trouble.

Tom and Pope snort, “yeah best not say anything else unless you don’t want your balls.” Pope chuckles, ignoring the glare from Benny.

You focus on Frankie and his nose. “You okay baby?” You ask and he nods.

“I’ve had worse.” He assures you and you cup his cheeks.

“It could’ve been worse.” You whisper and Frankie snorts, “yeah they could’ve killed me.”

****

Frankie groans, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. Keeping his hips pushing down, pinning you to the bed as he rocks into you. “Love you baby.” The sentiment is just as true today as when he murmurs it the first time telling you that he couldn’t watch you marry Brad. “I love you.” It’s been years since then. Things have changed. A lot. But his love and commitment to you has never wavered.

You grip his back, moaning his name as he rocks into you. He still feels so good, so intense, even after all these years. “I love you too. God Frankie, I- I don’t think I could live without you.” You confess, feeling sentimental tonight as he slowly makes love to you. “Gonna make me cum.” You whine, tilting your head back against the pillows as he grinds against that spot deep inside of you.

His lips slide over your skin, kissing under your jaw and along your throat as you tip your head back. Feeling your walls pulsing around him and he knows that you are going to cum. “Do it.” He rasps, your fingers intertwined with his and the rings he had placed on your hand flashing under the soft light of the room. “Cum for me baby.” He groans when you do, whimpering out his name softly while your entire body shudders under him, clenching down around him. “Fuck- fuck baby, that’s it. That’s-” The monitor by the bedside crackles to life. The cry of your son ringing out loudly and making Frankie freeze on top of you.

Your instincts kick in and you sigh as Frankie groans, pulling out of you to flop beside you on the bed, his cock throbbing and covered in your slick. “Stay hard. I’ll be right back, baby. Gotta see what the little monster wants.” You smirk, reaching for your dressing gown and you pull it on as you make your way to the nursery.

Looking up at the ceiling, he listens to you murmur as you change the baby’s diaper and croon to him softly. The oldest, his little girl, is already in Kindergarten and he can’t believe that the baby is already three months old. You’ve done exactly what the two of you said you would, building a life together. Sure there have been bumps in the road along the way, but he still loves waking up next to you and calling you his wife. Smirking when Benny scowls if he gets a little too handsy with you around your older brother.

You carry the baby back into the bedroom, closing the door to not disturb Ella from her sleep, and you turn to see Frankie stroking his cock. “You have no idea how much I want to just kneel down and take you into my mouth right now.” You moan softly, opening your robe after you settle down on the bed beside your husband. You undo it, cradling the baby in one arm as he latches on, immediately sucking on your nipple to gulp down the milk.

Frankie smirks and looks over to watch his son eat. It’s always been something that takes his breath away. “I think you’re a little busy, baby.” He teases, not stopping the slow strokes of his cock. Hand wrapped around himself while he slowly rocks his hips up. “Our little monster is our first priority. I’ll just sit here, neglected, with my balls about to burst.”

“You know he will fall asleep in a few minutes. Let me take care of you.” You shift the baby slightly before you reach over with your free arm to bat Frankie’s hand away, taking him into your grip and pumping him just how he likes. You watch him as his mouth falls open when you twist your wrist just right.

He lets out a ragged breath, careful not to be too loud to disturb the baby. It wasn’t like he would know what was going on or ever remember. Reaching over and caressing your thigh, needing to touch you. “Oh fuck.” He whispers, eyes dark and fixed on yours. “Fuck I love you.”

You keep a steady pace with your hand, twisting your wrist and swiping your thumb over the leaking head to gather up the pre-cum as you pump him. “I love you too baby. You gonna cum for me? Gonna cum for me now?” You coo, wishing you could kiss him but the baby has already fallen asleep against your chest, your nipple in his mouth.

“Yes.” Frankie whines, panting out soft breaths as his hips rock up frantically. He always loves how you look at him when you want him to cum. Pleading, like you need to see it. Keeping his eyes on yours, he feels his body tighten. Mouth dropping open and a strangled groan coming out while he paints his stomach and chest with his seed.

You work him through it, loving the soft groans that escape his lips as he cums. When he slumps back against the bed, you take your hand away and bring it to your lips to lick off the errant drops of cum that dripped onto your hand. “In the morning, I’ll suck you off.” You promise, “if this one doesn’t get me up first.” You coo, looking down at your sleeping son. Blissfully unaware of what just happened between his parents. “Is it wrong to already say I want another one?” You smile, looking over at your husband.

Frankie chuckles, shaking his head at your eagerness to have another baby. “Let’s get this one out of diapers and figure out what’s going on with the suspension.” He sighs heavily, knowing he fucked up but he was grateful that you had stood by him. He had been told by the lawyers that it was probable that it could be thrown out, considering his other drug tests had come back clean. Chalking it up to a false positive. He reaches out and strokes the baby’s head before he groans. “I’ve got to get cleaned up and meet the guys.” He tells you as he sits up, his cum cooling on his chest.

You sigh, knowing that Frankie misses his work. You’d had a difficult birth with your son and nearly died. In fact, they pronounced you dead at one point before you came back and it took you a few weeks to recover and get out of hospital, leaving Frankie to look after the baby. One night, after dropping the kids at his mom’s for a break, it got too stressful and he turned to something he’s never done before and never would again. Then the surprise drug test the next day came back positive. You understood why he tried coke, the stress must’ve been insane, and you don’t blame him for the suspension. He vowed he’d never do it again and you know he’s telling the truth. “Okay baby. Tell Benny I said good luck for tonight and tell Pope to come and see his godson. Will and Benny are Ella’s godfathers so it’s only fair Pope has a turn.” You kiss Frankie’s lips after he rounds the bed to head towards the bathroom but not before kissing you.

“I will, baby.” He promises, knowing that Pope will have to come over if what he had said in his text was real. He supposedly had a job for Frankie, something that would be an easy seventeen thousand and he can’t deny that he needs the money right now. He needs to make sure that you and the kids are provided for and right now being grounded meant he was making less. “You need anything when I come home?” He asks from the bathroom, wetting a rag to wash his cum off his body. “Diapers, tampons, chocolate?”

“Can you get me a milkshake from that place on your way home?” You ask, biting your lip. You craved them during your pregnancy and now, you still love them. Thankful you didn’t hate any of your cravings after giving birth. You carefully shuffle off of the bed, careful to not wake the baby as you walk into the bathroom, kissing Frankie’s shoulder as you look at him in the mirror. “I love you.” You say, resting your head on his shoulder as you cradle the baby.

He turns his head to kiss the top of yours, looking at you in the mirror. “I love you too.”

You smile, turning your head to kiss his lips. You have the family you always dreamed of having with Frankie. If only you could go back and tell your seventeen year old self that it’s all gonna work out and you’ll be happy. It would have saved you and Frankie a lot of heartache but ultimately, it made you both stronger and it was all meant to be. Francisco Morales was destined to be yours.

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ilovepedro · 6 months

Text

just married | frankie morales x f!reader

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Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2k

Summary: You and Frankie just tied the knot. Half way through the reception, your insatiable husband whisks you away for some much needed privacy.

Warnings: fluff, oral (f receiving), fingering, exhibitionism (sex in a private bathroom), unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), creampie, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: happy frankie friday! this is based off this post, i could not for the life of me shake this from my head. literally wrote this in an hour, i’m telling y’all i’m actually going insane. the brain rot is actually concerning. FRANKIE NATION RISE! 🫡 anyway, i hope y’all enjoy! 🫶🏼 i loveeee me some frankie 🫠 not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @saradika

“Come on, hermosa,” Frankie rasps in your ear, moving his hands from your hips and grabbing your hand, a small smirk playing on his lips. Music booms from the DJ’s speakers, the dance floor lively and vibrant.

“Where are we going, baby?” You ask, your gown flowing freely as your new husband swiftly maneuvers you through the crowd. “You’ll see,” he shouts over the thrumming music. Your body buzzing with excitement and a smile, so big it hurts, adorns your face.

Leading you out into the hall and racing up the stairs, giggling like a couple of school children. Frankie drags you to the bathroom at the end of the hall, flinging the door open and guiding you inside.

He grips your hips and crashes his lips onto yours, swallowing your dissipating giggles as he presses you up against the door and locks it. You whimper softly as his hands begin to roam your body.

His hands roam your backside, making his way down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “Frankie!” You squeal, breathlessly, laughter bubbling over your lips as you pull back for a bit of air.

A toothy grin breaks out into his face. “I’ve missed you, hermosa,” he pants, the both of you breathless from running and desperately kissing each other.

“I’ve missed you too, baby.” Not having had a moment to yourselves this whole day, you two bask in this brief moment of privacy.

He brings you in for another insatiable kiss. Your hands tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, making him groan into you. Snaking his hands down your waist, he cups your mound in one hand. You moan into him as your brows scrunch in pleasure, grinding against his hand.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day, baby,” he groans, guiding you to the sink, pressing your backside up against it as he peppers kisses to the column of your throat. “You look so fucking gorgeous, baby, this goddamn dress is driving me crazy,” he whispers, nipping your neck.

“You’re driving me crazy, Frankie,” you gasp. “Look so fucking sexy in that tux, baby.” He smiles into your skin, working his way back up to draw you in for another kiss. You moan into his mouth as he slips his tongue inside, arousal pooling in your panties and sticking to your sex. Swallowing every moan that pours into his mouth, he pulls back, your lipgloss staining his lips.

Crouching to his knees, he bunches your gown up over his head and moans at the sight of your lacy panties paired with your garter.

“Fuck, baby. So fucking wet for me all fucking the time,” he whispers huskily as his large, warm hands run along your thighs. He slides your garter down your leg, tucking it into his back pocket.

Propping you up onto the sink, he spreads your legs and presses a kiss to your sex. You moan at the feeling, aching for more. One of his thick fingers prods at your entrance, parting your lips and allowing your husband a view of your glistening pussy.

“Please, Frankie,” you plead breathlessly, tossing your head back.

“Yeah? My pretty little wife wants me to eat her pussy? Huh, mi esposa?” You moan, eagerly nodding as you clench around nothing. Frankie doesn’t miss the way your thighs squeeze together.

“What my wife wants, my wife gets.”

Without warning, Frankie dives in and licks broad stripes up your folds, gasping as you bite back a moan with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, attempting to be quiet.

“No no, baby. I wanna hear you. They can’t even hear us with the music, it’s just us, baby - just me and you,” he says before diving back in and licking through your folds, his strong nose nudging your clit and your eyes flying open.

“Oh fuck, Frankie!” You moan loudly, eyes squeezed shut as you toss your head back, caution blown to the wind. You snake a hand into Frankie’s curls, tugging at them and eliciting a groan from your husband. The vibrations against your cunt send a new wave of arousal seeping from you, Frankie lapping up every drop as he drowns in your slick.

His tongue prods your entrance, fucking into you. He groans at the way you clench around him, chest rumbling in satisfaction.

It’s sloppy, and hungry the way he laves at your weeping cunt. His tongue circles your clit relentlessly, your cries filling the air. His lips wrap around your swollen bud as his grip on your thighs tightens. Your hips involuntarily buck up into his face. He snakes his left hand up to your stomach, ring-adorned hand pushing you down and holding you in place.

“So f-fucking good, F-Frankie, oh my god,” you keen above him, legs wrapping around his back as you try to brace yourself for your impending orgasm. His relentless pace creates a cloud of stars in your eyes.

“I’m close, Frankie! So close, don’t stop! Please don’t stop, baby,” you yelp, tears of pleasure stinging the corners of your eyes as the coil in your belly tightens.

A sudden intrusion pulls a sharp gasp from you. Two of his thick, long fingers crook into that spongy spot with every stroke as he sucks on your clit.

His fingers, his mouth, the ring on the hand which pins you down overwhelms you - he’s all-consuming.

Your vision flashes hot white as the coil in your belly snaps, cumming all over your husband’s face and his fingers. Frankie laps at your juices as you grind your cunt into his face, thighs trembling while riding out your high. He groans as he slurps you up like the sweetest nectar, not wasting a single drop. Your whines fill the air along with a squelching sound as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you.

He pulls back and rises to his feet, his patchy beard glistening with your slick. Slamming his lips onto yours, the two of you moan into each other. The taste of yourself on his tongue makes your head spin.

Frankie ruts his hips into yours, his clothed cock brushing against your exposed cunt and a loud cry pouring from your lips at the sensitivity. Wrapping your arms around his neck to draw him closer, you buck your hips against his, seeking more stimulation.

“Lean back for me, baby.” he rasps as he pulls back, gently pushing you back against the mirror. He makes quick work unbuckling his belt and shoving his pants to his ankles. You suck your bottom lip in between your teeth, mouth watering at the sight of your husband’s angry, leaking cock. Unable to resist, you palm him in your hands, smearing the dribbles of precum along his throbbing length. Frankie stifles a moan, moving your hand away and lines up his cock at your dripping hole.

Swirling small circles around your entrance, gathering the new wave slick that pours from your cunt on his length.

“Frankieeee,” you keen. “No teasing, please, amor,” you huff, on the verge of tears as your desperation grows.

“I got you, amor, don’t worry,” he whispers in your ear. He slides in slowly, but smoothly in one go, your slippery folds allowing him easy access. Both of you moan in tandem, Frankie’s brows pinched together and your lips parted.

You’re so full, relishing in the dull sting as he stuffs your wet heat to the brim. “Move, baby. Please move, mi amor,” you plead, breathless and desperate, seeking some relief.

“Shh shh, it’s okay, baby. I’m gonna take care of you, I always will,” He says, voice hushed and husky, placing a kiss to your forehead.

You know his words run deeper than just the matter at hand, having promised to love you eternally just hours ago.

He slowly drags out of you ever so slightly before snapping his hips into yours, his tip punching your g-spot. His hands rest on your waist as he picks up his pace. The room sounds pornographic - filled with the sounds of your squelching pussy, skin-on-skin, moans, and pants.

“I’m the lu-luckiest man ever. Got the prettiest girl ever to m-marry me. Knew you’d make a beautiful bride, hermosa. Most beautiful f-fuckin’ bride in the world, my pretty little wife. Get to, shit, get to love you and fuck this tight little pussy every goddamn day for the rest of our lives. Fuck,” he rambles, hips canting into yours.

Clenching around him at his words, more slick drips from your weeping cunt and onto the counter. An endless string of moans tumble from you and into the air.

“S-so fucking good to m-me, baby. So l-lucky to be your wife,” you keen, pressing your forehead against his. He hungrily captures your lips in a ferocious kiss, teeth clashing together as neither of you care how messy you two will look after.

“My wife. You’re mine, baby, you’re mine forever,” he moans as his tip kisses your cervix. Your walls flutter around him, your second orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Come on, baby, come on, baby. Let go, hermosa. I know you’re close. Let me feel you, I got you, baby,” he babbles almost incoherently. You wail as your orgasm washes over you, convulsing under his grasp, twitching uncontrollably as slick endlessly streams from your cunt. “There we go, baby. Good girl. So fucking good, hermosa. Always feel so fucking good,” Frankie groans against your lips, his thrust growing sloppy as your slippery cunt sucks him in.

“Love you so much, Frankie,” you gasp. “Love you too, hermosa,” he grunts. You can feel him throb inside of you.

“Cum, Frankie. Fill me up, please, baby,” you beg, still riding out the high of your climax.

“Yeah baby? Want my cum? Want me to stuff you full and walk around our wedding with my cum dripping out of your tight little pussy?"

A high-pitched moan escaping your lips, you squeeze tightly around him. “Yes, Frankie! Wanna feel it dripping down my legs under my dress,” you squeal, overstimulation starting to sink in.

"My dirty fucking girl,” he rasps, punctuating his words with every thrust as he shoots warm ropes of cum into your cunt, coating your walls with his seed. A guttural groan rumbles from deep within his chest. Slowing his pace, you whimper as he fucks his cum into your used hole.

He rests his clammy forehead against yours, breath fanning each other's faces. Post-coital bliss settling amongst you two, the faint humming of the music from the reception rings in the air.

“Do you think they’ve noticed we’re gone?” You ask, panting. A deep chuckle rattles his chest, making you laugh. “I’m pretty sure they have, hermosa.” You pull him in by his tie, kissing him languidly. He pulls back and presses a playful tap to your thigh.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go before the guys start talking shit,” he says, helping you to your feet, and wiping his spend from your mound and in between your legs. He settles your gown into place as you fix your makeup in the mirror. He fixes his hair while you adjust his suit and tie back into place. You beam as you lock eyes with his, love shimmering in the corners of them. He entwines his fingers with yours as he leads you out the door and back downstairs to the reception.

It seems nobody has noticed you two were gone, or just don’t question your absence, as you two mingle your way back into the crowd.

“Hey! Where the hell were you two?! It’s time for the bouquet toss!" You best friend, and maid-of-honor, screeches.

"And the garter toss!” Santiago, the best man, chimes in. They drag you both to the dance floor. Women crowd the dance floor as you toss your bouquet over your shoulder, your best friend catching it and eyeing her partner.

Music blares as Frankie leads you to a chair in the middle of the dance floor. He teasingly lifts your dress to remove your garter, to be met with nothing. Your eyes bug out of your head, heat coursing through your veins.

“Where’s my garter?” You ask him. Santiago appears behind Frankie, taking something out of his back pocket and holding it out to Frankie. “Here it is!”

Laughter erupts amongst your guests as you hide your face in your hands, an embarrassed smile plastered on Frankie’s lips, meekly waving to the crowd. He pries your hands from your face, playfully rolling his eyes as he brushes off the embarrassment while helping you to your feet. Cheering and whooping fills the hall as you smile apologetically to the crowd as they roar, Frankie cupping your face and pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

Frankie is rotting my brain today obvi. this one's for all my Frankie girlies out there, shout out to y’all 🩷

thank you for reading! 🫶🏼

tag list: @undrthelights @gracieheartspedro @jenispunk @amanitacowboy @bastardmandennis @nostalxgic @tinygarbage @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @harriedandharassed

#happy frankie friday #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales

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undercoverpena · 3 months

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1. butterscotch orange

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter one of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.3k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over <redacted>. frankie being a single!dad to a son. coffee date. an: it is finally here! this little thing has rotted me from the inside out and nothing brings me more joy than a romcom. so here we go. buckle in. all hail @secretelephanttattoo for the wondrous idea and support (seriously thank you, i know you know ily, but i don't think I've been this happy writing something in so long). a thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who i forced to read this when we had our sleepover, ily.

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics [winks]

IF I CAN DO IT, ANYONE CAN DO IT. ALL YOU NEED—

It rings, echoes through your skull.

Has been doing so the whole ride over—your groan doing nothing to dilute it, even as you kill the engine of your car and are welcomed with silence.

There’s an element of regret you feel thrumming in you since discovering that perky voice, her high-pitched excitement becoming the bane of your existence. Forever replaying in your head. Regardless of whether it is actually playing. It remains on a loop in your mind—all light and sweet—grating on you from the amount you’ve had to watch it, just to get to this stage.

Realistically, you know you shouldn’t hate the voice, because it has been helpful—in that effortlessly playful way that’s kind of begun to fuck you off.

But then, you’re not even sure if any voice would fare much better. Because you just don’t feel like it’s just that easy—so possible, all simple and quick to do.

Because DIY apparently isn't that trouble-free for you. The bandaids on your palm, fingers, and forearm are proof of it.

Yet, somehow you’re outside of a hardware store.

One that Google promises will have all you need and more. Not that you know what that is.

The only thing you do know is that it at least gives you another reason to focus on something other than the mountain of boxes that never end. The ones not unpacked. In the home that’s now only slowly beginning to feel more like yours, and not the people you purchased it from.

Eyes flicking over the front of the store, the clutter of things all left outside—in judging various shades of buckets and plastic garden chairs—before your eyes land on the door to Harold’s Hardware.

There’s no breeze, but the door moves ever so slightly. Sitting, slightly ajar, as though once—a long time ago—it fit in the frame perfectly, but now remained warped and unwilling to even try. Then there’s the glass, all smeared and sitting inside (what you assume) would have been a bright-white frame that’s slightly yellowed and has been adorned in scuffs, swinging in its layered overuse.

But, at least it’s visited, you think. Shoving open the door, a bell sounds in some distant corner, ringing, it almost muffled by the voice from the video continuing to play in the space between your ears—a to-do list, a handful of items required, listing themselves on a never-ending loop, the billionth play through since you’d woken up.

It’s so much bigger inside than you banked on. Jaw-ticking to the side, eyes marvelling at the floor-to-ceiling display and the array of things all living and existing under hanging signs that appear worn and peeling.

With each second, more and more of the charm comes to you.

That there’s a radio, crackling away, a song from decades gone by playing with difficulty, as an array of scents swirl, fighting themselves for your attention. But, two stand out, fresh-cut wood and lemon disinfectant. The latter you assume kills dirt but doesn’t make the floor tiles gleam in the way they once did. Scuff marks adorning well-walked paths. But the former, you gravitate more to, wish for it to fill your nose and remain with you long after your visit.

Adjusting the strap of your bag, you glance about again, almost fidgeting your feet in your shoes, before it dawns on you. Slams into you as you flick your gaze from sign to sign—

You haven’t got a clue about where to start.

Listing the things from memory—suddenly distant and difficult to find amongst the dooming overwhelm—as your feet begin moving of their own accord. Choosing an aisle, selecting it—all eeny-meeny-miny-mo.

Because better that, than standing aimless, lost. Watched on some flickering CCTV in the back where you assume the person who works here is.

Dragging your eyes, scanning them up and down, taking in the varying types of paint brushes, different thicknesses, different intentions. Moving from single purchase to grouped, to multi-packs, and landing finally on rollers before you’re turning, heading down an entirely different aisle.

The next isn’t any less overwhelming.

If anything, it’s more, because it’s at least more of what you needed.

Screws, bolts, fixings.

Your brain assessing, attempting to assemble whether a bolt is what you need, a screw or—

“You need a hand?”

It throws you off, the voice.

Cuts through your processing, through the low replays of the video (the ones only in your head) and the cracking radio which has moved into an advert for migraines.

It’s low, a slight gravel that he rids with a clear of his throat as you look over your shoulder, eyes sweeping over the owner of the voice, eventually turning to face him.

And fuck.

He’s broad, dressed in a deep green t-shirt under a tan apron—name badge scratched over, only leaving the lingering marks of a “here to help” and the fading logo you’d seen outside.

You don’t mean to gawk, but yet you do all the same.

Practically swallowing, attempting to whir your brain into gear as you take in the rest of him. The thick loose curls atop his head, the strong nose and the round-brown eyes. His moustache, the wiry facial hair across his chin he slowly begins to scrape at, as he remains waiting for a response.

“Screws.”

“You… you need screws?”

Nodding, you will your brain to work, to function. But, he’s just so—

Lifting his chin, he runs his thumb up and down the underside of his chin, waiting, waiting, until he smiles. “Do you know the kind?”

Think. Think. Fucking think.

And then you do. Somehow able to unspool some thoughts, find sentences. Beginning to explain, in barely-there pauses and animated hand gestures about your move, and your new lease of life, and this video you found and how you felt inspired by it to the point it had led you to order wood cut to size and tools from the internet, but screws, screws and this and that are all that you’d forgotten.

And, he listens. Sliding a hand over the sleeve of his sun-scorched tee as he does. Just nodding on occasion. Thin lines appear along his forehead at certain parts of the story, but nonetheless listening.

“Show me.”

“Show… you?”

Then he smiles. Soft, it slides up in a slow, almost cautious way, but then it’s at his eyes, touching, brushing itself there and sending sparks up into the darker brown flecks.

Licking his lips, he gestures, “The video.”

You do.

A quick shuffle in your pocket, a slide to unlock your phone and then your fingers are brushing his. They’re warm, his. That you can tell.

Heat radiating from them, slowly blanketing yours as his hand and yours cradle the phone like a newborn in an announcement photo.

From there, your chest tightens, more so when you meet his eyes, finding them watching you as intently as you wish to look at him, and it makes your heart stammer, skip—a full chaos of beats following before he’s holding your phone independently.

That’s when a new crisis calls. A new thought is all set to erode your mind.

Because your phone looks tiny in his hand.

The plastic case is almost dwarfed by him as he tips his chin, watching the video, occasionally tapping at the screen to skip ahead before he nods to himself, you all but busy trying not to choke on your own drool.

“I know what you need.”

“You do?”

A foolish question, all escaping without thought or rationale.

He just smiles, in a way that seems to settle your incoming anxiousness.

“I do.”

And he does.

A tilt of his head, his back turned to you, a brief thought crossing your brain at the sight but you quickly rid, and you’re following. Listening as he explains, as he points out things with his long, thick finger, as you nod, as though nothing lives in the space between both of your ears.

It isn’t until you’re back in your car that it hits you. Do you suddenly wish as your engine ignites and your car roars to life, that you had asked for his number—or better yet, his name.

It’s been days, and you’re still wondering if some part of you’d concocted him, made him up—thrown up an illusion of a man and exaggerated how good he looked.

The more you thought about him, the more insane it got. Even hearing yourself explain it to a friend made you question if you'd been dreaming. That maybe you’d let days mould him, shaping perfection in your consciousness.

It has more weight when you walk past the older man at the till, all white hair in a slick-back style and who tips his head and looks more what you’d expect from the decor of the place.

But a part, one fighting, scrapping for a moment to exist, still believes. Hopes.

Forcing your legs to wander down aisles you don’t need, pausing at each corner, desiring to be proven wrong. Hovering, hoping—half-wondering if it was essential that to make him appear, you had to look lost and hopeless—or whether that had just been a coincidence that first time.

With each up and down, you almost give up. Hope almost gone, erasing itself with each step, all but fading.

But there, in the centre of the paint aisle, speckled in dried flecks, it clinging in varying shades—a kaleidoscope dream on his jeans and worn t-shirt—is him. The man you haven't stopped thinking about.

"It's you."

"It's me," you grin, heat flooding your cheeks, growing up into your neck.

Arm lifting, hand brushing the back of his curls not housed in a cap, as he matches your grin. "New project?"

"Something like that."

His gaze doesn't waver, doesn't lessen, not as his grin slopes into a shy smile, before he wipes his hand on his jeans, offering it out. "Realised... I never... I'm Frankie, by the way."

You hand him your name, dropping an octave as you do—all unmeaning, entirely accidental—fingers sliding past his as you shake his hand.

“I don’t… you’ve not got your apron on.”

Glancing down, you find him grinning when he looks up, “Not my day today. Here on personal business.”

“Oh is…” squinting at the paint can in his hand, “Butterscotch Orange on a hit list or something?”

His lips slide into his cheek, a tooth-filled smirk. “Should be, it’s a right bitc—pain in the ass to sell.”

Rolling your lips, you trace your tongue across your teeth as you grin. “It’s no…” eyes squinting. “Mt Rainier Grey.”

His brow arches. “That your shade of choice?”

“I like it—don’t hate the orange though. So, maybe it’s not the paint, but the seller.”

Something twinkles in his eye, lips still cocked to one side, smirk still ever-present.

And it’s a challenge to drag your eyes to look at the floor, you shift your weight. Trying, and failing, to think of an excuse, to leave before it gets weird—before you become too much and ruin this nondescript thing. But, his throat clearing stops you. It forces your chin up. Barely just able to catch it, the whisper, how it’s almost said to the can in his hand than to you.

“You… doing anything right now?”

Shaking your head slowly, you bite your cheek as you grin. “Just talking to a man holding a paint can.”

Tapping his fingers along the top, lips rolling, “You fancy getting a coffee? With me?”

You have to bite your smile, out of fear you’ll show how practically beaming you are. Mouth opening, but he adds an addition of I don’t usually do this that makes your lips curl into a smirk.

“What? Invite random customers for coffee or accost them with paint you can’t sell?”

Biting his upper lip, he shakes his head, tucking a curl behind his ear as your eyes glance over at them. How they glisten under the yellow-fluorescent light.

Letting your heart dance like leaves in the wind. “I’d love to get coffee with you, Frankie.”

It’s nice, the coffee place.

Not a far walk, a few doors down. The charm of it coaxes you in with sounds of crunching beans and strong scents of varying levels of caffeine sliding over and relaxing your shoulders from your ears.

Because suddenly you’re nervous.

A slight shake to your bones, a twitch of your fingers.

“Let me get this.”

Smiling, you find him watching you, not caring to drag his eyes away when you catch him.

“Because you never do this or because you’re hoping to persuade me to buy your unsellable paint?”

Smirking, he traces his eyes over you, “Both.”

The corner of his mouth slides back into his cheek, a dimple appearing, deepening—one you want to brush over with your thumb the longer he keeps looking at you the way he does.

All dark eyes, beedy, but sparkling.

'Who's next?' breaks the spell. Shatters the magic. It forces you both to blink, to focus on the task at hand. Both orders said, whirring and crunching sounding as you admire the place, glaze over the menu until he’s nudging you.

With your order in hand and tucked away in the corner—the large window letting in light and warmth from the sun on your back—you try not to moan at the taste of your drink once it hits your tongue.

Because it’s good. Brilliant, practically everything.

To the point you have to bite back a thank you, one that you feel would be never-ending, a constant swirl of words landing on the circular table between the two of you. Nothing napkins and good conversation could soak up.

Because good coffee is always great, but knowing where to find it in an unknown place is something else.

Distantly, you hear him say your name, chin dipped, eyes focused, realising—in a flood of embarrassment—he’s been talking to you.

“Sorry?”

“I said, I’ve not seen you in the store before…”

Swallowing, you take a steadying breath.

“You don’t have to…”

But, you do all the same. You pour open small bits of truth, words falling, tumbling half-strung together as your history rolls out in a timeline in front of you both. How you’d bought a new place, that it’s a bit run down, seen better days—a determination to prove friends wrong by doing it yourself.

Foolish, you comment with a shake of your head, I know fuck all about decorating.

And he listens—to the fact you’re alone, not even a pet; he listens even as you talk about your work, all boring, not entirely interesting. The two of you simply lost in one another, surrounded by coffee mug swirls and the sounds of sizzling food, coffee shop noises and mumbling daytime talk as you ask him about work, about his love for orange shades.

And your eyes glance down at his phone, how it’s turned over—his all undivided attention given to you—yet your eyes linger on the phone case. The one with a drawing, likely in pencil, a man in a hat on a hill, a child next to him and a sun with a smile on its face.

“I… I have a kid. Luca—shared custody,” he says, nodding, tongue peeking out between his teeth, hands leaving the table and wiping back on his jeans in slow slides up and down. “He… he made it me.”

It’s the grin that makes your heart swell.

Makes your hand cup your mug a little tighter so you don’t offer it out to him to hold, a thing which feels so natural, no thought required. Except you don’t know his last name—barely know a thing about him.

Yet, your body practically leans forward as you mirror the smile—all soft, as another piece of a missing puzzle sliding into place.

“Does he like drawing?”

Laughing, his palm slides along his jaw. “Loves it.”

“How old?”

“Five—does that… does that bother you?”

“That you’re a dad?” He nods, and you lick your lips, you make sure to hold his gaze. “Not in the slightest.”

You smile, watching him mirror you this time. It rushes out, kissing across every bit of his face—a shyness soon fluttering over him before he clears his throat.

“So, you freelance? You like being your own boss?”

“Not especially, but it does mean I can work at night.”

Nodding, he slides his hand around the white porcelain, hand practically dwarfing the mug. It makes you want to ask him to hold things, to see if IKEA pencils or children’s eating utensils look more ridiculous than your iPhone and a regular coffee mug.

“Prefer the night?”

“I prefer the quiet of it... to think. It’s why… why I began trying to do something in the day, needed to still be busy.”

“Sitting still not an option, Rainier Gray?”

Shrugging, you smile. “Says you Butterscotch and your three tins of unsellable paint in the bed of your truck.”

“You got me there.”

“I just… like to be busy, and with the new house, no partner—commitments, I thought why not try a bit of DIY.”

Nodding, he lifts his mug, and takes a sip—eyes remaining fixed on you as he does, as though it buys him time, lets him think up an opinion, an assessment. It makes your skin warm, but for all the uncomfortable reasons, the panicking ones—parts of you beginning to catastrophise that you’ve said the wrong thing.

“Open up your Instagram.”

You stare, blinking.

“Trust me.”

And you do. With another fumble, another slide of your phone screen open, and you follow his instructions as you type in the spelling he gives you. When you click the page, it’s hard not to grin, to not have your face explode into a smile so large it cuts into your cheeks.

“I don’t like to sit still either,” Frankie adds, as though the thousand photos and videos, the tutorials and follower count don’t say that on their own.

You’ve fallen down a hole—willingly.

It cracked open the moment you’d sat on your couch, drink in hand, blanket half over your body.

The moment you’d begun your scroll, you discovered you couldn’t stop. Starting with the latest and moving back, until you realise you’d rather see the story in the way it happened.

Choosing a moment, almost nine months ago, before you work your way forward to the present.

You were cautious, more careful than needed, to not like anything too late—to not give away how deep into his page you’d gone. Even if you were in awe, a little proud—your cheeks a little warm and lips turned up into your cheek—as you saw in real-time his confidence grow. The way he’d look at the camera, began experimenting with angles, all in all being smoother, more happy.

You suppose that’s why you type a comment under one picture:

Is that butterscotch orange in the flesh? 🟠

Stalking me are you?

Getting some tips from Mr DIY himself.

I know you went back some months, Rainy.

How do you know that?

Because as soon as you commented that’s what I did. You looked nice at the beach.

Now who’s the stalker, Butterscotch.

Me. Clearly. I’m being very upfront about it.

Out of interest, do you tutor at all? Gives hands on help to beginner DIYers?

You genuinely asking or flirting?

Big-headed much?

I can help you with something if you need it.

I think I do.

Then I’m yours. Don’t worry, I promise to only snoop in your drawers when left alone.

Think we should get food first, show you what I’m thinking—make sure you’re up to the task.

You asking me on a date?

No. But if you keep showing off tools topless I’ll be tempted to ask you.

Knew you’d gone back further than a month.

FRANKIE’S INSTAGRAM 🌝

NEXT CHAPTER

an: you do not understand how giddy i am about this series. the chapters have flown out of me. i hope you enjoy it half as much as i'm enjoying writing it. see you soon xx

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

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endlessthxxghts · 2 months

Text

Full

Frankie Morales x afab!Reader

Summary: You want Frankie to knock you up, and fuck, does he wants that, too. W/C: 1k. (I actually stuck to the word count this time… but at what insanely hot cost?😵‍💫) 18+ MDNI: Implied established relationship. Literally 0% plot and 100% PORN. Unprotected P in V sex. MAJOR BREEDING KINK. Cumming inside. Slight daddy kink (in the sense that you wanna make Frankie a daddy🫶🏼). One (1) pussy slap. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation kink. Finger fucking. Pics for aesthetic purposes only.

A/N: This lil drabble is a part of my 1k follower celebration in response to this yummy request made by @javierpena-inatacvest😵‍💫 Please take a deep breath and get comfortable while you read this… ANYWAY, happy Valentine’s Day everyone!!! What better way to celebrate than with Frankie and his breeding kink?😋 Hope you guys enjoy, and please do let me know what you guys think!!!! I love love love your feedback (or- in other words) !!!🤭

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG || 1K CELEBRATION

“Fuck, Frankie…”

“Taking it so good, querida, fuck-”

“Please- shit- please, Frankie, don’t stop.”

“I’m not, baby,” he moans, eyes threatening to succumb to the back of his skull, “Not gonna fucking stop until you’re full of me, baby, yo prometo.” I promise.

“Sh-shit, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, ohmygod-” your eyes clamp shut, your jaw hangs open, ass up in the air as your tears and drool soak the pillow beneath your face.

Frankie speeds up, pummeling into you hard and fast, his large hands coasting the surface of your ass and your back, groaning at the way you twitch and writhe underneath him. His hands settle at your waist, gripping you tightly, accentuating the arch of you. He’s so fucking deep at this angle, you can feel him hitting your cervix with each thrust forward. It’s an addicting sensation right now—and it will be even later, when the dull ache overtakes you. “Give it to me,” he breathes, “cum all over my cock, querida, needa feel you.”

His hand snakes around to your front, the pad of his fingers meeting your clit, rubbing it in the perfect motion that sends you reeling. Fireworks—no, dynamite, explodes behind the dark of your eyelids, your head adopting that fuzzy feeling, your body following suit not long after. “So fucking good, you feel so fucking good, Frankie, oh my God- oh fuck-” you ramble partially incoherently.

Your thighs are jello, unable to keep yourself up as Frankie continues fucking into you; his arm wraps around your middle, his other pawing at your breast. He pulls you up to be flush against his chest as he begs your alter for his own release. “I’m c- mierda- I’m close,” he whimpers right at your ear.

Mustering up as much strength as you can, you twist your head to face him, your hand reaching up and rooting yourself at the back of his messy curls. You yank his head towards you, crashing his mouth against yours. It’s sloppy and wet, swallowing each other’s tongues whole as the thickness of your shared breaths melt into one. Breaking away with a bite to his kiss-swollen lower lip, you whisper into his mouth, “cum inside me, Frankie, please.”

“Baby-” he chokes, his hips speed up, arousing him beyond what he thought was possible. “Want you in me for days, Francisco,” you whimper, licking a stripe on his neck, collecting the salty liquid running down. His hand makes its way back to your throbbing bud.

Your body goes lax in his hold, you secure your grip at the base of his neck, keeping your faces close to each other. He watches with heavy eyes as you struggle to keep your gaze on his, your brows furrowing slightly as your eyelids begin to flutter. “Need you-” you start, a throaty moan cutting you off. “Need you inside me- need you to fuck it so deep, baby,” you sob, “that it has no choice but to fucking take- fuck-”

Frankie’s heart stutters and his cock twitches. “Yeah?” he grits between his teeth. “Want me to fuck you full?” A particularly hard thrust sends you cross-eyed, your nails digging into his neck. “Want me to fucking get you pregnant right now, baby?”

An appreciative little slap to your slippery clit jolts your eyes open, his lustful gaze with a hint of something more—like adoration, like pure devotion—stares you down. You pull him into you once more, a clash of spit and teeth and tongue—you can even taste a hint of your own arousal from when he ate you out before you were begging him to knock you up. “Please- fuck- yes, baby, yes- fucking- let me make you a daddy, baby, please- want you- need it- need you so fucking bad-”

Fuck. Frankie’s pace falters, his hips stammer as his orgasm consumes him—his cum painting your warm walls, filling you up to the brim. You moan at the sensation, your hips thrusting backwards into him, and before you realize it, you’re cumming again, both your bottom halves an utter mess of each other’s arousal.

Frankie softly slips from your heat, and you both hiss at the loss. He releases his hold on you, guiding you onto your back, his hands settling on the insides of your thighs to keep you open for him. His eyes can’t leave the way your pussy looks right now—completely fucked out, shiny with your slick, and filled with his cum. You feel it start to leak out of your hole, and you whine, the feeling so sensitive but dizzying, knowing you’re overflowing with Frankie.

Before you know it, his fingers are collecting the dripping spend, bringing it back to your entrance, and slowly, his fingers enter you, the initial push inward causing more of his cum to seep out of you, but he’s quick to catch the leakage, pushing it back inside of you, where it needs to be.

With one hand holding one thigh down and the other inside of your sex, Frankie’s entranced, starting up a delicious pace fucking into you with his fingers. You’re a moaning mess of curses mixed with his name, overstimulation taking over your body, but you don’t want him to stop.

He couldn’t even if he tried. He’s too caught up in the notion that after this, his sperm could latch, and in nine months from now, you’d be big and round and glowing carrying the product of your love. Fuck, he needs this to work. He’ll fill you up every fucking day if that’s what it takes.

He’s pulled from his trance when a heady moan roars from your throat, “F-fuck, fuck, Frankie, I’m gonna fucking cum again! Oh my god, baby- fuck-”

His eyes are on your face: pure ecstasy, he’s seeing, in the way your head throws back into your pillow, only the white of your eyes showing, as the veins pop out your neck as you scream out in pleasure.

He slides his fingers out, slick with a mixture of both of your arousal, and brings it up to your mouth. He knows how much you love to taste.

Immediately you open up, lapping up your combined flavors greedily, a content, blissful smile plastered lazily on your face.

“Am I full, baby?” You mumble.

“So full, querida,” he whispers, laying his body over yours, pulling you in for a sweet kiss.

“Do you think…” you trail off softly, nervous.

“I don’t know, mi amor,” he breathes, kissing your chest. “Guess we’ll just have to keep you full everyday until we can check, huh?”

Your cheeks heat up, your exhausted pussy already fluttering in anticipation. “Y-yeah. I guess so.”

End note: LOLOL GUYS I, UH.. I REALLY WENT HARD ON THIS ONE, I'M SORRY BUT ALSO I'M NOT SORRY ASDFGFDFH PLS LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK <3 YOUR GUYS' WORDS MEAN THE WORLD TO ME, I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH Also how you doing, babe @javierpena-inatacvest?? You alive? Still with me?? I LOVE YOU AHAHAHAH

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javierpena-inatacvest · 1 month

Text

Maybe, Baby?

Summary: You and Frankie aren't trying for a baby just yet, but when your weird symptoms start to throw your body for a loop, you start to wonder if you actually might be pregnant

Pairing: Husband!Frankie Morales x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), Unprotected p in v sex (wrap before u tap, silly gooses), creampie, praise kink, size kink (if u squint), unintentional breeding kink (lmaoooo, it's me, sorry not sorry), birth control/family planning, pregnancy (or maybe not? part 2 maybe? hehe) symptoms, Frankie and reader mention being closer to 30 than 16 (turns out when you're an adult, it's not a teen pregnancy anymore), reader has hair that can be played with, Frankie being the sweetest husband alive (all the gold stars for him), Frankie is so excited to be a dad that I just may pass away

A/N: I know y'all voted for me to finish chapter 20 but i lied (I'm so sorry), but I wrote this in a day and husband Frankie was really speaking to me on this one 😭 This one is brought to you by my raging baby fever and perhaps some real life inspiration WHOOPS, art imitating life on this one ig 💀 Poorly beta'd bc that's how I roll!!!

Ever since getting off birth control a few months ago, your body had felt… different.

While you were glad you had made the change for yourself, you still found yourself shocked every month when a new sort of symptom decided to appear at some point in your cycle that you had never dealt with before- acne in new places, weird cramps, and crazy mood swings that showed up out of nowhere before your period were just a few of the things you were learning to manage as you figured out your body post birth control.

Another symptom you hadn’t expected was that now, you were insatiably horny.

All the time.

While Frankie had been more supportive and caring in helping you deal with all of your not so pleasant symptoms than you could have hoped for, he was also more than happy to help you with your newly found positive one, too.

The only problem was, after so many years of not having to worry about the consequences of your sex life on birth control, you and Frankie were finding it very hard to adjust to be more… careful.

As you got hornier and hornier, the box of condoms that Frankie had bought after you stopped taking the pill had been seeing less and less use, and to be honest, hadn’t really seen the light of day from the back of his nightstand drawer in about a month an a half- and if you were being even more honest, on top of that, Frankie’s pull out game was almost nowhere to be found.

You both knew that you wanted a family in the future- That was a part of your reason for getting off birth control to begin with. The two of you had agreed to hold off at least for a little longer to try and get your life more in order before bringing a baby into it, but with with your new lack of protection when it came to sex, and constant horniness around the clock, you both were beginning to have a feeling that that your agreed upon timeline for having a baby might be harder for you to maintain that you thought.

Especially when you found yourself morphing into an unspeakably horny monster when you were ovulating.

So little did you realize, that as you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom as the two of you were getting ready for bed and you caught a glimpse in the mirror of Frankie, stripping out of his shirt and jeans, leaving him only in his boxers as he searched around in your dresser for pajamas, that was the reason you nearly spit out your entire mouthful of toothpaste to try and get a mouthful of something else.

You couldn’t help but ogle at your husband's broad body and freckled tan skin, muscles flexing as he shuffled through your drawers, pulling out an old, worn gray t-shirt and tugging it over his head, running his hand through his messy, curly hair before searching for his pajama bottoms.

At this point, you had honestly braced yourself on the edge of the bathroom counter to keep yourself from falling over at how mouth-watering he looked, already feeling the wetness beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear at the thought of wanting to rip his clothes off just as fast as he had put them on.

Letting out a yawn, Frankie raised his hands above his head so a sliver of his soft belly peaked out between his waistband and shirt hem before making his way into the bathroom, sleepily padding along the tile floor until his body was behind yours, chest flushed against your back and arms wrapped around your waist. Even more prevalent, his bulge pressed against your ass, making the wet spot in your underwear grow damper by the second.

“You ready for bed, querida?” Frankie cooed, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder and smiling at your reflections in the mirror.

While you were absolutely ready to get into bed, sleeping was not going to be your activity of choice.

“I think that maybe…” You paused, turning around to face Frankie, his body caging yours against the counter, palms splayed flat on either side of your hips, looking down at you with his sweet, brown eyes, “I think that maybe we should do something else before we go to sleep.”

“Something else, huh?” Frankie smirked, raising his eyebrows at you as your hands began to run up and down his arms, slightly squeezing the muscles of his biceps as your fingers crept under the fabric of his shirt sleeves. “And what might that something else be, Hermosa?”

“You know exactly what it is, Fransisco. You expect me to watch you just roam around shirtless in our bedroom and not get all hot and bothered? God, you’re so fucking hot.” You moaned, letting your hands run up his shoulders and around his neck, pulling him in for a long, electric kiss.

“Damn, what’s gotten into you, babe?” Frankie chuckled, trying his best not to blush at your comment, sliding his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“I don’t- Fuck, I don’t know, I just know that if you don’t fuck me right this second, I think I’m gonna explode.”

While your statement may have had a flair for the dramatic, it was just about as close to the God’s honest truth as you could get- You were so worked up, you felt practically feral, the ache in your core so strong that you really did feel like you were on the verge of implosion.

Before you even gave Frankie time to respond, your lips were crashing into his with a ferocious intensity, your hands grabbing fistfulls of his t-shirt as you stumbled back towards your bedroom, bodies bumping and bouncing against the walls and door frames, mouths never parting as the back of Frankie’s knees finally hit the mattress, forcing him to fall backwards onto the bed.

Crawling overtop of him, you were already straddled over his hips, grinding your bottom half on the bulge growing in his pajamas as your hands crept under the hem of his t-shirt, running along the tanned, soft skin of his chest, making him let out a low groan that rumbled in his throat.

Frantically shuffling himself further onto the bed, Frankie’s hands dug into your hips and over your ass as your hands slid down from his chest to his waistband, fingers tugging at the elastic to shuffle his bottoms and boxers down his legs, quickly followed by your own, dropping to a crumpled pile on the floor.

Feeling your fingers wrap around his cock, already painfully hard, you swirled the precum leaking from his tip with your thumb before dragging your hand up and down his length, leaving Frankie sitting up in surprise while he watched you begin to hover over him, dragging his dick through your folds.

“Hermosa, are you sure you don’t need me to-” But before Frankie could finish the rest of his protest to make sure you were ready to take him, you were already sinking down onto him, whimpering at the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness, followed by the ragged moan escaping Frankie’s lips.

“Oh fuck… Nuh uh, Frankie. I need to feel you, baby. Needed to feel you inside me.” You whined, taking Frankie cock inch by inch until he had bottomed out inside you, his tip kissing your cervix, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure.

Normally with Frankie’s size, you would have needed to warm you up first, but with how wet and worked up you already were, you were able to take him with ease, desperate to feel him buried deep inside you.

“Jesus fucking christ, queirda, you’re so fucking wet. Fuck, baby.” Frankie moaned, feeling you begin to slide up and down his length, coating him with your arousal with each swirl of your hips.

Arching your back, you jutted your hips forward, bracing your hands on Frankie’s strong thighs, circling your bottom half against his, whimpering at his fullness and the hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your clit, selfishly already longing to chase your own high to ease the ache that had been burning in your core.

“Fuck, Frankie, you feel so good. Feel so fucking full with you in me.” You whimpered, bouncing even harder and faster on Frankie’s cock, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping his and wetness dripping from your heat coating the walls of your bedroom.

“Yeah? This what you wanted, pretty girl? Wanted me to stretch this pretty little pussy out and fill you up?” Frankie groaned, gritting his teeth as he began to jut his hips up into yours as you rode him, the added depth of his thrusts making you cry out in pleasure.

And for as fucking good as it felt, the horny monster you had morphed into had you greedily craving more- to have Frankie stretch you open in a way that had you seeing stars, so much that you could still feel the next day, long after the two of you were finished.

“I-I want more, p-please, baby. Fuck- Fuck me harder, Fransisco.” You cried, your sweet voice whimpering his full name turning him almost as feral as you were, letting out a low growl as he grabbed you by your hips, flipping you so that your back hit the mattress and he was caging his broad body over yours.

Practically ripping the t-shirt still covering your upper half off your body, Frankie dove face first between your breasts, groping one while hungrily sucking at the other, flicking your pebbled nipple with his tongue, his free hand reaching down to line his cock back up with your entrance, sliding back in to your aching core with ease.

Frankie let himself sink all the way back in, filling you to the brim before hooking his arms around your knees, pressing your legs against your stomach, smirking to himself at the ragged moan you let out as the new angle opened you up even further.

“You want me to fuck you harder, Hermosa?” Frankie mewled, slowly dragging his length out of your heat, looking down to see your shiny slick soaking his cock before looking back at you and the wrecked expression plastered across your face, frantically nodding in desperation. “Tell me how badly you want it, sweet girl.”

“Fuck, I need you so bad, Fransisco, please.” You begged, damn near close to tears with how deeply you needed to feel Frankie ease the emptiness inside you. “Please, baby, I- oh fuck-”

Before you could even finish the rest of your plea, your breath was already hitched in the back of your throat as Frankie began to pound into you at a relentless pace, tightening his grip around your thighs while he pressed them closer to your chest, grunting with each rut of his hips into yours.

“This what you want, querida? Meirda- so fucking wet and tight, baby girl. You feel so fucking good, holy fuck.”

It didn’t take long for the all too familiar tingle at the base of your spine to start spreading through your body like a wildfire as Frankie continued to slam into your g-spot, making you chant his name like a prayer, your brain at a loss for any other words than “Fuck, Fransisco.”

And as if you already weren’t close enough, when Frankie reached down to thumb at your clit, rubbing in relentless circles against your sensitive nub, you knew you were a fucking goner.

“That’s it, Hermosa. Cum for me, baby. Want that- oh fuck- want that prefect pussy to fucking soak me.” Frankie groaned, feverishly pounding into you, desperate to feel you come undone for him giving him long enough to fight off his own high that was rapidly building in the pit of his stomach.

A few more thrusts were all it took to have the coil snapping in your belly, crying out Frankie’s name as you came, orgasm ripping through your body with a blinding intensity, eyes scrunching shut and jaw hanging open while pleasure and euphoria flowed through every ounce of you.

Still blissed out and wrecked out of your mind, your eyes shot open as Frankie’s mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your whimpers and moans in a messy dance of tongues and teeth.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum. Jesus fuck- fuck, I’m close too, baby. W-where do you want me, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, barley holding on long enough for you to answer, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as his hips began to stutter, gritting his teeth and furrowing his brow with every ounce of self control he had left.

Still barley coherent enough to form a sentence, your brain blurted out the only thing you could think of, and the only thing that you really wanted in the moment.

“Inside, Fransisco. Fuck, cum inside me, baby.”

That alone was almost enough to send Frankie over the edge, letting out a long, low groan, sloppily rutting into you as his brain went blank alongside yours, starting to babble incoherently.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- you want me to fill you up, queirda? Fuck, I’ll fucking fill you up so good you’ll be dripping out of me for days. Oh fuck, shit baby, fuck, oh I’m gonnaahhhhhh-“

Just like that, Frankie took one last thrust, spilling deep inside you, coating your walls with his spend as his body slumped into yours, the pair of your chests rising and falling in sync as you both came back down to earth.

“Jesus Christ… Holy fuck, Frankie.” You giggled quietly to yourself, blissfully filled with post orgasm ecstasy as your husband carefully pulled himself out before rolling over next to you on the bed, pulling you close against his chest.

“Fuck me, Hermosa, holy shit.” Frankie chuckled, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead, tracing small circles on your back as he held you, heat radiating off of each other's sweat-ridden bodies. “God, I love you. We should probably get you cleaned up. You wanna shower?” He asked, smirking as your face lit up at his nearly rhetorical question.

“Only if you’re up for round 2, Morales.”

“My eyes are up here, Fransisco.”

“Hmmm? What did you say?”

“Exactly my point. Can you stop looking with your man eyes and look with your normal, helpful people eyes to help me decide on a dress for Benny and Victoria’s wedding?” You sighed, laughing to yourself as you raised an eyebrow at Frankie, his gaze still fixed on your chest.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be helpful.” Frankie huffed, overdramatically rolling his eyes at you, playfully throwing his hands up in defense as he leaned back against the dressing room door, looking you up and down in one of the cute floral dresses you had picked to try on for your friends’ upcoming wedding. “It’s just that… Nevermind.”

“It’s just that what, Frank?” You asked tilting your head in confusion at your husband as his eyes traveled back to your breasts, furled look in his brow like he was really staring there to prove a point.

“It’s just that- Baby, I don’t know if it’s just the dress or what, but your boobs look huge. Like, they always look good, believe me, but like… Whew.” Frankie whistled, practically shaking his head in disbelief at how good you looked.

“Really?” You asked, turning around to face the mirror in the dressing room, gently cupping your breasts, grimacing as you held them in your hands. “Yeah, I guess they do… Honestly, I was gonna complain about how sore they’ve been all day. I wonder if maybe my period is just coming early?”

“Maybe? You did ride me pretty hard the last couple nights and put on a good show, so maybe they hurt from all that bouncing and-”

“Frankie! We are in public!” You playfully scolded, giving him a flimsy slap to the chest to cut off the rest of his thought, the two of you quietly giggling to yourselves and trying to “Shhhh” each other from drawing too much attention to your dressing room stall. “The dress, you goofball, yes or no? Sooner we pick, the sooner we can go get food, because your wife is starving.”

“I vote yes on the dress. You look beautiful in it, querida.” Frankie smiled, stepping behind you to press a kiss on the side of your head.

“You just like it because it makes my boobs look huge.”

“What? Can you blame me for wanting to stare at my gorgeous wife’s boobs all night?”

“God, you are ridiculous, Fransisco. Fine, boob dress wins. Now let’s get out of here and go get some food before you get stuck in a titty trance and I die of hunger.”

While the rest of your Saturday was spent enjoying the delicious Mexican food that you had picked up on the way home and a much needed night in on the couch with Frankie, there was a tiny part of your brain that couldn’t seem to shake his comment from earlier about how big your boobs looked.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t agree with him, because truth be told, they felt huge, too. They had been sore since you had woken up this morning, and while you had chalked it up to what you and Frankie had been up to the past few nights, or bad PMS symptoms, there was still just something about you that felt off.

Later that night, during your movie marathon, you had paused whatever new action movie Frankie had been begging to watch since it had popped up on Netflix a few days ago for a popcorn refill.

While Frankie meandered around the kitchen waiting for the next bag of popcorn to finish popping, you stayed curled up with your blanket in your corner of the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, until a sharp twinge began to cramp in your lower stomach. The feeling took you by surprise, digging your fingers into your side to try and ease the dull and achy sensation as your face scrunched in confusion, wondering why in the world you had what felt like period cramps in your belly.

“Hey, you okay, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, returning with popcorn in hand, his face painted with concern to see the pained look scrunched between your brow as you curled deeper into the couch.

“Oh, y-yeah, I’m fine. I just um, I just had a weird cramp I guess. Probably just ate all that popcorn too fast.” You replied, trying to convince yourself just as much as you were trying to convince Frankie that you were overthinking whatever mystery symptoms had just flashed through your lower half.

“Here, lemme just set this popcorn down and then I can rub your back while we finish the movie, okay?” Frankie smiled softly, setting down the bowl on the coffee table before crawling back under the sea of blankets on the couch with you, laying your head against his thigh like a pillow while his hand traced up and down along the small of your back.

“Thanks, Frankie.” You whispered quietly, taking a few deep breaths as the familiar warmth of your husband’s palm worked up and down the worn fabric of his shirt that you had put on earlier.

“Of course, baby. If you need anything else, just let me know, okay? Just promise me you’ll take it easy on the popcorn if you have any more there, Killer.”

The two of you laughed quietly as Frankie leaned down to press a soft kiss into your messy hair laid across his lap before picking up the remote to let the rest of the movie play as your eyelids began to get heavier and heavier as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

“What’s inside this box?”

“Open it up and find out! It’s a surprise for you!”

“Okay? Huh, why is it just a pregnancy test in there?”

“It’s yours! Congratulations! You’re having a baby!”

“Ahhhhh!” You shrieked, panting as you woke from a cold sweat, shooting up from the couch. “What the fuck…” You whispered to yourself, coming to and realizing that you were now awake and had only been dreaming moments before this. Running your hands over your face, you blinked a few times to be greeted by the dim light of the TV still flickering in the background, Frankie sprawled out and snoring by your side where the two of you must have fallen asleep on the couch during the movie.

“What a weird fucking dream…” You sighed to yourself, shaking your head as you quietly pushed yourself off the couch to stumble to the bathroom, pulling your phone out of your sweatpants pocket to check what ungodly hour of the night it had to be since the two of you had crashed on the couch.

2:07 A.M.

You let out a low grumble, pushing your sweatpants down to your ankles as you sat down to pee, blinking your eyes open wider to look through the notifications piled on top of each other on your lockscreen. Mindlessly swiping through a few junk emails and text messages from group chats, one notification in particular caught your eye, rousing you from your half awake state.

“Feeling down? As you begin your Luteal Phase of your cycle, it’s normal to be less cheerful compared to last week when you were Ovulating! Click to track your cycle symptoms for today!”

Oh shit.

You could feel your heart beginning to race as you opened up the app, scrolling to the calendar tracker for the month. Swiping through the days, it didn’t take you long to realize that despite all of your weird symptoms you had been chalking up to PMS, you were almost two weeks away from starting your period. Frantically scrolling backwards, you began to try and rack your brain of all of the times in the past week that you had sex with Frankie while you would have been ovulating, and out of that number, how many times he hadn’t finished inside you, let alone even attempt to pull out.

And that number was a big, fat zero.

That’s when it hit you like a fucking freight train- You weren’t PMS-ing.

More than likely, you were pregnant.

“Holy fuck…” You whispered to yourself, your voice trembling and heart pounding as you buried your face in your trembling hands, your mind flooding with a million different thoughts all at once.

How could you not remember that you were ovulating? Would Frankie be upset? The two of you weren’t even trying for kids right now. Would you be a good Mom? What were you even going to need to do to prepare? Your house was starting to get small for just you and Frankie, let alone a baby. How were you going to find a new place to live in 9 months? And get a new car? How were you-

“Baby, you good in there?” Frankie groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he stumbled into the bathroom, letting out a yawn as he opened the door, bright light flooding into the hallway and revealing the sobbing mess you had become, still pants down, hunched over the toilet.

“Woah, hey, hey, hey. Baby, baby, what’s going on? Talk to me, Hermosa. Are you okay? What happened?” You could feel Frankie’s demeanor immediately switch as soon as he saw you in the bathroom, instantly dropping to his knees by your side, his hands gently grabbing your face to shift your gaze towards him, carefully swiping his thumb to dry the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks.

“Frankie, I- I- Fuck.” You stuttered, gulping hard as you tried to catch your breath, fighting back your nervous sobs as you locked eyes with Frankie, wondering how in the world you were ever about to brace him for the news you were about to tell him.

“Hermosa, what is it? Please, tell me baby, what’s wrong?” Frankie pleaded, softly squeezing your face in reassurance as he waited for your response.

You took a few more deep breaths, composing yourself enough to at least try to get a coherent thought out, swallowing hard as the words left your mouth.

“Frankie, I-, Frankie, I think- I think I’m pregnant.”

Frankie’s eyes went wide, his jaw practically hanging open as he tried to process what you had just told him, wondering if he hadn’t heard you right in his groggy state.

“W-what?”

“I think I might be pregnant, Frankie.”

Before you could even bear the thought of looking at his face again, filled with fear that it would be a look of shock and disappointment, you buried your face in your hands again, fighting with everything in you not to cry and keep your composure.

Frankie sat quietly for a moment, his hand covering up the gaping hole his jaw had made as it nearly hit the floor, shaking his head in disbelief before wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulling your hands to look at him.

“R-really? You- fuck- You really think you’re pregnant?”

As your eyes met his, you couldn’t believe the look on your husbands face- Not only was Frankie practically grinning from ear to ear, the sweet brown of his puppy dog eyes were welling with happy tears of their own, waiting on your every word as if he still didn’t believe what he was hearing. Silently, you began to slowly nod your head, biting down on your tongue, your heart feeling like it was about to shoot out of your chest.

“You’re...y-you’re not upset?” You stammered, sitting up a little taller at Frankie’s reaction.

“Upset? Hermosa, why in the world would I ever be upset?” Frankie laughed quietly, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as his other hand cupped your jaw. “Querida… There’s nothing more I want on this earth than to have a family. And-fuck- The fact that it gets to be with you? That you might give me a family? How could I ever be upset about that?

“Well it’s not like we were really trying for a baby, Frank. We said another year or two. With the house and money -”

“Hey. We’ll figure it all out, okay? I promise, we’ll be more than okay.” Frankie smiled, his goofy grin still stretched wide between his cheeks, finally easing some of your worry.

“I don’t even feel like I’m old enough to have a kid. I feel like I need to call up MTV to tell them I’ll be on the next season of 16 and Pregnant.” The two of you snorted, shaking your heads in awestruck disbelief that a stupid joke about a reality TV show could soon become your reality.

“Well considering we’re married, have a house, and most importantly, are much closer to 30 than we are 16, I think they may have a hard time pitching the show “Married Couple Has a Baby”.” Frankie teased, giving you a playful nudge as the two of you laughed, giving you a few seconds to catch your breath before trying to dig into details. “Did- Did you take a test? How long have you known?”

“No, I don’t know for sure yet, Frank. It’s… It’s just a feeling, I guess. But the huge, sore boobs, weird, period-like cramps and the fact that we really haven’t been the most careful are all pretty good clues.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know, we’ve tried to be care-”

Before Frankie could even finish the rest of his thought, you were already giving him the sassiest look you could muster in your overwhelmed and sleepy state, making the two of you laugh again he let out a sigh of defeat.

“Okay, yeah, we really haven’t been that careful at all. Sweetie, listen, I- I know it’s not what we had planned, but… I mean, if you are pregnant…” Frankie paused, smiling at your stomach as he gently place a hand over your belly, tears welling in his chocolate brown eyes, “Baby, I would be so excited. Nervous as hell, but so fucking excited.”

“Me too.” You sniffed, looking down at Frankie’s palm splayed across your stomach, heart swelling at the thought of Frankie being dad, thinking of how sweet and caring and perfect he’d be as you grew your little family together. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled Frankie in close, letting out a shaky sigh, whispering your words through happy tears.

“I love you so much, Frankie.”

“I love you so much too, Hermosa. More than anything.”

For the sake of Frankie’s shoulder, you pulled away to wipe your tears to keep from soaking your husband’s shirt, quietly laughing to yourself at the fact that this whole time you had been talking to Frankie, you had still been pantsless, hunched over the toilet.

“It probably would have been way more romantic to tell you all of this not at 2:30 in the morning, pantsless and hunched over the toilet like a little gremlin.” You snorted, Frankie following suit as he shook his head, running his hand through the sleepy curls of your hair.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way, mi amor. C’mon, let’s get you up to bed.”

As the two of you sleepily trotted your way upstairs, curling together under the warmth of your comforter with Frankie’s chest pressed against your back, you couldn’t help but smile as his arm draped over your stomach, hand resting on your belly while his thumb traced soft circles on your skin, imagining what it would be like if a few months from now if you really were getting ready to add another member to your family.

The next morning, as the sunrise began to spill through your curtains, casting bright orange and pink shadows on your bedroom walls, you couldn’t help but stir as the familiar scent and warmth of Frankie’s body was missing from his side of the bed.

As you sat up in the sea of blankets and comforters, softly rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you saw Frankie’s frame quietly sneaking through the bedroom door, fresh mug of coffee and bag of breakfast in hand with a stupid smile plastered across his face as he was greeted with your barely awake grin.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Frankie cooed, setting down the coffee and breakfast down on your nightstand as he sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, pressing a tender kiss into the sleep-ridden ends of your hair before wrapping his arms around you in a long embrace.

“Good morning, handsome.” You yawned, stretching your arms over your head, letting out a little grunt and laying your head on Frankie’s shoulder. “What’s all this for?” You asked, gesturing towards the coffee and oversized McDonald’s bag, assuming it was the reason for Frankie’s absence when you woke up.

“I- I don’t know, I uh- I was just really excited when I got up this morning. It was early, and I didn’t wanna wake you up, so I made a trip to CVS to buy some pregnancy tests for you and figured I’d pick up breakfast on the way home.” Frankie smiled sheepishly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, brushing past his untamed morning curls. “I know- I know you can’t really take the tests yet- I spent a lot of time reading the boxes in the store and wasn’t really sure what the best one was to take, so I got like, 4 different ones for when it's time.”

“God, you’re so sweet. You’re the best, you know that? It’s about to be a long week of waiting before I can take one of those. Do you- fuck, Frankie, do you think it could really be positive?” You asked, tears beginning to well in your eyes again as you smiled up at your husband, already beaming back at you, picturing the two pink lines showing up on all of the tests he had bought for you.

“Maybe, if we’re lucky.” He smirked, gently cupping your face, swiping his thumb across your face. “But if it’s not, then maybe… Maybe we start trying for a positive one on purpose.”

“R-really?” You grinned, biting down on your lip in excitement.

“Really, really.” Frankie replied, bringing his lips to yours in a long, slow kiss, soaking in the sweet taste of you on his tongue. “And maybe…”

“Maybe, what, Fransisco?” You giggled, bringing your mouth back to his in a sweet and sloppy kiss.

“Maybe…. We start trying right now, ya know, just to be sure. Wouldn’t want all those pregnancy tests to go to waste.”

Taglist:

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chronically-ghosted · 2 months

Text

i wonder if you stopped his world like you did mine

rating: teen

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 5K

summary: watching the woman he loves be with someone else is killing him, but for your sake, he manages. But when Benny's birthday loosens him up, he can't help but bear his soul over a phone call. Too bad you don't pick up and he's forced to leave the evidence in a voicemail.

tags/warnings: pining, light angst, idiots in love, country music as a catalyst, romance, tw alcohol, tw drinking, hangovers, ultimately very fluffy

a/n: Happy Valentine's Day @toomanystoriessolittletime! I hope you receive and give all the love you need and want! I've had this idea for a while, but once I saw that Frankie was your fave, I knew I had to do it!

one day i’m gonna do the series of all of my favorite country songs with a Pedro boy. This is one of them: Singles You Up by Jordan Davis. Had thoughts of Me and My Kind by Cody Johnson for our ever-fantastic Jack Daniels and Hurricane by Luke Combs for Joel. One day, my loves, one day.

🤍Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Frankie Morales has a problem.

Given the life expectancy in his line of work – all things considered – it really wasn’t that bad of a problem. Sure, his knees were busted, his shoulder aches when it was cold out, and his ex keeps hounding him for money he doesn’t have. But on the flipside, his little family unit of friends and brothers united by combat are (mostly) all alive and healthy. He has a steady job and his little girl, whom he loves and adores, thinks the sun shines out of his ass. All things considered, there’s not much else he can ask for. He’s far better off than some of the men and women at Will’s talks, or in Santiago’s field teams.

So – really, truly, seriously – all things considered . . . he can’t classify this as a bad problem.

In fact, this is a problem he would willingly have. Gladly even. Not quite joyously, but if it’s a choice between this problem and not having the problem at all, he will choose having this consistent, thorny, kind-of-hurts-to-breathe-sometimes problem every single time.

And right now, it’s wearing a dress.

Uh, well, you’re wearing a dress. An off-white, hinging-on-cream, dress that sits above your knees, cuts flat and wide across your chest, and puffs out into cotton sleeves that remind him of those conchas his abuela used to make. Sweet, fluffy, and absolutely forbidden.

Until the time is right, at least. His abuela always made him wait to eat until the time was right.

He calls it – you – a problem, when in fact, it’s the opposite of a problem. There is nothing he would ever want to change about the warm, engulfing feeling that starts somewhere in his stomach and rises like conchas up his spine until it’s somewhere in his ribs, then under his breastbone, right by his –

He would kill anyone who tried to take that feeling away from him. It’s when he feels most alive, most present, most out of his head – like these things in the dark and sleeping corners of his mind that nip and bite at him can’t find him. He’s thrown them off his scent in his search for you and, even for a brief moment, he can step into the light.

There is no problem, in how you look tonight, how you look every night, with your bright shining smile, sweet-smelling hair, cowboy boots, glass of whiskey – you had such a fantastic taste in –

Wait.

That’s not whiskey. Not even a whiskey glass.

That’s –

“White wine?” Benny yelps as he leans forward and his chair legs clatter against the concrete floor. “If that’s Moscato, I’m calling the cops because you’ve been replaced by an equally hot body double.”

You roll your eyes as you sit down and take a long drink from your glass, as if to make a point. Frankie’s eyes are drawn to where your dress hangs over your crossed legs, exposing the curve of your thigh.

“It’s not fucking Moscato, Benjamin,” you say, eyes narrowed, completely side-stepping his compliment, like you always do. “It’s Chardonnay. Nick recognized the vineyard on the menu so he recommended it. Thought I’d give it a try, because I like trying something new, Benjamin.”

He rolls those beautiful blue eyes and leans forward towards you at the table, that grin that brings grown women to their knees plastered across his face. He knocks back his cowboy hat with a tap of his knuckle.

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me.”

“The fuck outta you is excused.”

You tug his hat back down over his face, smirking back at him, just as Nick saunters over – with what looks to be a wine glass of his own.

Okay, in hindsight, you’re not the problem.

His real fucking problem is Nick.

Your boyfriend.

Frankie, who has decided to only drink beer around you since The Almost Incident, takes three long pulls so he doesn’t have to watch Nick and his stupid hands slide across your exposed back and sit down in Santi’s empty chair.

“Happy Birthday, man, thanks for inviting me out.” Nick says briefly, raising his glass to Benny. “But I gotta say, I was a little worried when my girl here said your party was gonna be at a country dance hall. I’ve never been to one of these. I had to buy cowboy boots just for the occasion.”

He sticks his leg out, and rotates his gator-skin boot back and forth as if to illustrate how important to him this whole thing is.

But Benny doesn’t look down, doesn’t approve the boots, or Nick’s attempt at fitting in. Instead, he just smirks, his smile growing fat and lazy, a bit of the warmth fading from his blue eyes.

“Your first time at a cowboy hoe-down? I had no idea.”

Nick grins, because he doesn’t know Benny well enough to see the dig for what it is. But you do. You know him and you know he’s ragging on your boyfriend. You narrow your eyes and shame coats Frankie’s chest. Because he knows also Benny and he knows why he’s giving Nick such a hard time.

See, the problem isn’t you, or even your boyfriend – not really.

Nick is actually a decent guy. He treats you right, if a little delicately, but he buys you drinks, takes you places Frankie could never afford, in a car Frankie could never ever afford. Sometimes, you’ll say something, or tell a story and it’s obvious Nick doesn’t really understand you or your jokes, but he smiles along anyway. He makes good money and supposedly he keeps in touch with his mom. Nick is the kind of guy any brother would want his sister to date.

So the problem isn’t that Nick is a bad boyfriend, but that he’s your boyfriend.

The problem that Frankie Morales has is that he is painfully, achingly, in love with you.

And he’s your friend.

Maybe that would change, if he ever could work up the guts to say something. For fuck’s sake, he’s killed people – asking you out can’t be that much worse (as Santi often reminds him). But if the guys you’re into are like Nick, or even Nick-adjacent, then what fucking chance does he have? He never thought money was important to you, but apparently it is and that’s something he definitely can’t give you.

Or maybe you like the stability of a high-paying job with fucking miraculous health-care. And that’s two things more he can’t offer: stability and health-care.

So, maybe, maybe his problem isn’t with you or Nick or the fact that Nick is your boyfriend. It’s that he never could be. He, with one failed marriage already behind him and a coke rap sheet, has nothing to give you . . .

And you deserve the world.

You deserve more than he can offer you. You deserve better than him.

That’s his real fucking problem. And one he can't ever fix.

Will couldn’t get off work to come to this, so he owed Benny a beer and a nice steak dinner – according to Benny. Santi, despite absolutely swearing up and down for a week he wouldn’t be caught dead in cowboy boots and a hat, showed up tonight in full gear, belt-buckle included because he lost a bet with Benny over the Thursday night game. Santi, like everything else in his life, researched the hell out of the two teams, their past history, older statistics of both the players and the coach. He was confident, so confident, that he put his pride on the line.

Never a good idea with Benny Miller.

I don’t know, Benny said at the sports bar when his team was whooping Santi’s team’s ass, I just had a good feeling. Presumably, Santi did three shots before leaving and with another two in his system at the bar, all anger and frustration and embarrassment and inhibition had melted away and now Santi was doing what Santi did best, especially when drunk: dancing with beautiful women.

“The son of a bitch can dance, I’ll give him that. ” Benny muses as the three of you watch Santi, who despite having been taught the moves three minutes ago by two gorgeous blondes, complete a perfect line dance of Copperhead Road.

“Oh, shit, I could never do that.” Nick shakes his head. “Not even after a hundred classes.”

“Ah, I find that hard to believe, Nicky Boy. You seem like a natural,” Benny smirks over the lip of his beer bottle. He finds Frankie’s eyes and winks.

You are not amused. You glare at him over Nick’s shoulder for the second time tonight.

“It’s really not that hard,” you smile tightly and squeeze Nick’s shoulder. “I can teach you.”

“Oh, yeah, don’t you know your girl here?” Benny leans back in his chair, balancing against the rung of Nick’s chair by the ball of his foot. “She used to put all of us to shame. Dancing the night away, leading the crowd in line dancing. In fact, if I remember correctly, she and Frankie used to get into all sorts a-trouble on the dance floor. Isn’t that right, Frankie?”

Now he drew a glare from you and Frankie.

Don’t, man, just don’t.

Benny shrugs, swallowing his smirk with another sip of beer, hands raised. Just trying to help out.

Over the speakers, the song winds to a close and the crowd does their final spin. Across the dance floor, Santi bows, his hat sweeping the floor, to both of the girls who giggle like high schoolers.

“I’m gonna go get Boot Scootin’ Boogie over there some water before he up-chucks all over those nice ladies.” Benny stands and fixes his hat. “You guys want anything?”

Frankie shakes his head, his own hat that Benny insisted he wear, making the line of sweat across his forehead itch. You and Nick decline as well. You’ve barely even touched your drink, Frankie notes with a certain level of satisfaction.

As Benny walks towards the bar, the next song starts up and you let out a squeal. Bring on The Good Times has been one of your favorite songs since college. And Frankie should know – he introduced it to you.

“This one is the best! A classic!” You grab Nick’s forearm, but he almost immediately pulls it back.

“Ah, babe, my first line dance is not gonna be in front of strangers! I’ll embarrass you and me. Why don’t you ask Frankie?”

Fuck, why could Nick just be a raging, flaming asshole? This would be so much fucking easier.

Frankie swallows his beer empty, an excuse for a refill prepped. He hates cowboy hats, but he’d fucking set fire to the sky for Benny – he just hopes he immolates himself in the process. The giant brim makes him feel like he’s got a neon sign over his head that blinks, I Am A Giant Dork. Only further proven if he gets anywhere near that dance floor with his two left feet.

Your eyes are unreadable as he tries to coax your boyfriend into taking you dancing.

“Nah, man, you got this. Your girl’s a great teacher.” By some cowboy miracle, his voice is steady as he says those two words. On the table, your fingers curl in, your wine glass still untouched.

Nick makes a face, eyes flitting back and forth to the dancers as they start the dance.

“My feet are already killing me in these new boots. Besides, this isn’t really my song.”

Over his shoulder, you find Frankie’s eyes. He knows that look on you – he knows everything about you – and you’re trying to hide how hurt you are.

He’s on his feet before he knows what he’s doing.

You and Nick stare up at him, surprised by how he practically bounded to his feet.

The sweat at the ring of his hat runs down the back of his neck. Frankie does the only thing halfway-normal and extends his hand.

“Alright, princesa, I’ll fill out your dance card.”

He doesn’t care, or even really register, the darkly confused frown Nick sends him when you stand up, take his hand, and smile at him. He feels warm all the way up to his chest.

“Thanks, Frankie. Let’s boogie.”

That was a mistake.

This whole fucking night is a mistake. God help him, he loves Benny like a brother but he should have just said no and promised to take him out later like Will. He would have bought Benny any drink, any ridiculous chicken wing plate he wanted if Frankie didn’t have to be here, right now.

Because right now, right now, that wall of self-control that he uses to stem the reservoir, to stem the flow of whatever you cause to pour out of him, it’s leaking. It’s busted holes and now he’s drenched with it – with the scent of you, with the memory of hair down the length of your neck, the heat of your skin overworked and flushed, the sweet taste of your breath in his mouth when you leaned forward, into his space, his senses, and whispered,

“C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this.”

But in his defense, he couldn’t feel his feet, much less make them move when he watched you with your skirt rucked up high in your fists, your cowboy boots kicking like fish in a stream, and that smile – that fucking smile – brighter and sweeter than all the whiskey in the world.

C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this

C’mon, Frankie, you’re better than this.

C’mon, Frankie, tell me you love me.

Kiss me, Frankie. Kiss me now.

His restraint, his resolve that he will never, ever have you – he can feel it throb beneath his palms. Shudder and wobble under the thundering of his heart. It’s so close to breaking. Too close. This is why he doesn’t drink anything harder than beer around you. This is why he rarely drinks around you at all.

When Nick finally calls it a night because he’s already got a blister from the new boots, you don’t put up much of a fight. You’ve danced with Benny, you’ve danced with Santi and his gaggle of girls, Nick himself went up for a slow dance or two.

Frankie only ever asked for one.

He knows he disappointed you, has been disappointing you because you can feel him layering you away, brick by brick by brick. One of his oldest and longest friends, barely visible now, and he’s going over it with caulk to make sure you can’t touch this fragile, weak, emaciated thing he calls a heart.

The instant you walk out of the bar, Nick’s arm across your tense shoulders, he all but rushes for the bar.

“Six tequila shots, please.”

You wake up where you went to sleep: curled up on your couch, your giant Florida Gators blanket wrapped around you like a mentally-supportive straight-jacket, with Golden Girls reruns on the TV. The empty bottle of 19 Crimes explains the sticky, dry feeling in your mouth and the thundering headache accompanying swollen eyes and cheeks. You’d rather get hit by a train than have to move out of this position, but Nick has always been punctual.

Which, you assume, extends to picking up his stuff from your apartment first thing in the morning, his final threat that ended your conversation last night.

The sooner, the better, you mother fucker.

You blindly grab around for your phone, knowing that it’s most likely shoved into the deepest cracks of your couch, hoping against hope Panera delivers on a Saturday morning. There’s a distinct possibility you might start swinging if Nick shows up before you get a baguette and a coffee into your system.

The things he said about Benny and Santi last night on the drive home. This break up was a long time coming, but fuck, if this is what he’d been sitting on about your friends, what the fuck did he actually think of you?

And the things he implied about Frankie – how Frankie was in love with you and you were willingly not seeing it – ridiculous.

You fight the rancid taste of hope that anything Nick implied about Frankie might even remotely be true when you close your fingers around the shape of your phone at the far end of the couch.

22%

Just enough to order then yeet this fucking thing into another room because there is no way in hell you are answering Nick’s calls.

But, as you scroll through your notifications, maybe you should have answered Frankie’s.

He had called sporadically, starting about two hours after you and Nick had left the dance hall, all the way until four in the morning.

One text at 1AM: com e hang out wit us.i mis s you u

You smile, despite the obviously drunken text. Frankie rarely texted, only if it was dire need – and apparently, you continuing to party with the boys at 1AM was very, very dire. Judging by the eight missed calls.

Eight missed calls, but only one voicemail.

Like you’re about to settle down for some good TikTok scrolling, you lean back into the pillows, rubbing your eyes to clear the hazy fog, and press play.

First, there’s noise. Lots of it. Country music and people laughing and singing. Clearly still at the dance hall. You wish for a minute it is a video instead because you’d pay hand over fist to see those guys falling all over each other.

But then comes Santi. Over the years, you’d picked up some Spanish here and there, mostly enough not to embarrass yourself if you ever went to Miami.

But whatever Santi is saying, you’re not entirely sure it is Spanish, or any human language.

“Comotuamiga, teruegoqueselodigas porfavornopuedo hacerestopormucho mástiempo. Estaríasmásfeliz y ellaestaríamásfeliz. Nomemiresasí, sabesqueloúnico quequiereesqu labeses y la beses y luegohagasotrascosas – ¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste?”

There’s a shuffling, hushed voices, the music still far too loud to make anything out.

“Déjame en paz, dude.” Frankie. Frankie, very very very drunk. “I’m gonna – I’m gonna say – voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. She’ll get it. I know–,”

“Then say something now because you’re leaving a voicemail!”

“Ah, mierda – um, baby?”

In two words and two filler words, Frankie’s whole demeanor changes. You can almost picture him curled around the phone, his hand cradling the phone to his ear as he rests his head against a wall.

“Baby, listen – fuck, sorry, I’m starting all wrong. I shouldn’t even call you that – I shouldn’t call you ‘baby’ because you’re not mine. You’re not my baby or anyone else’s because you’re so fucking independent and I love that about you but I wish you were. Mine, I mean. Not a baby.”

You don’t even remember sitting up, but your feet are on the ground. You’ve dropped the phone onto the table in front of you, staring at it as if it’s been dripping poison into your ear. Your heart is pounding.

There’s silence from Frankie for a second, the music still loud, but it’s dampened. You can hear Frankie breathing, swallow, and start again.

“You looked so fuckin’ good tonight. You look good every night but fuck, baby, that dress. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Even for a second . . . he doesn’t tell you that you look so fucking good enough, you know? You should hear it all the time. I wanna tell you – tell you all the time – he didn’t say it once. Not once and that’s a fucking crime. He makes you drink white wine when I know you fucking hate it – I know you, baby. I know you more than I know myself because you’re all I fucking think about. You’re in here, all the time, all up in my chest, my throat, my gut – and you can have it. You can have it. You can have all of me, if you just . . .”

His voice breaks and your fingers clench around the edge of the cushion.

“If you just . . . look, I know this is so fucking outta line and I wanna say it to your face and I’m gonna but . . . when that fuckin’ moron forgets how good he has it, I’m gonna be there. Gonna be right there. Because –,”

And then like someone shoved a speaker right up against Frankie’s phone, as clear as day, you hear Benny yell:

“IF HE AIN’T HOLDING YOU TIGHT, IF HE AIN’T TREATIN’ YOU RIGHT, I’MA BE THE FIRST ONE CALLIN’ HIM CRAAAZY–,”

“Benny, fuck off!”

And then the call drops, along with it your stomach. In fact, it slides out of your body, slouches off the couch and melts into the floor.

Oh, Frankie, do you even mean a word of it?

The hangover rubbing your nerves raw, tears spring into your eyes, the silence and fear and terrible hope tightening like a band around your head and infinitely increasing the pressure in your temples. You want to cry but your eyes already feel too puffy.

You’re stuck, frozen by every single possible outcome or single next step spinning out like chaotic webbing you can easily catch yourself on.

This was a mistake, it had to be. He didn’t mean to call your phone. He had accidentally called you when he meant to call another girl . . . also with a boyfriend named Nick. Frankie, sweet Frankie, who you’ve all but outright begged to take an interest in you – said it with your eyes hundreds of times – Frankie couldn’t actually have feelings for you.

Not like you had for him. Not like the ones you’ve slowly plucked out of your ribs over the years because god, even just looking at him seared a scar across your heart.

Fuck. Fuck!

You snatch up your phone, wiping your teary eyes and frantically hoping he might have said a name or anything – he couldn’t possibly have meant you – when three loud bangs on your front door sends your phone into the air and your heart into your throat.

The way he calls your name is frantic, verging on hysterical. In a daze, you glance at the clock. 9:04. Frankie’s had about four hours of sleep, if any at all.

“Please, open the door! We gotta talk – there’s something – there’s something on your phone you shouldn’t hear – please, baby, open up –,”

You stare at the phone on your floor.

Don’t they always say you can’t tell the moments that irrevocably change your life until after they’re gone?

Not this time.

You open the door and either way, everything changes.

“C’mon, please, let me explain.” His voice has quieted, no longer shaking, softer as though wounded. “Just five minutes and I’m gone. I swear. We can forget the whole thing –,”

You open the door to a hungover Frankie Morales, still in the same outfit you saw him last in, but his eyes are rimmed with black circles, his patchy beard even more patchy as if he had rubbed the bristle clean off. He reeks of beer, peanuts, and cigarette smoke. His shirt is loose, wrinkled, his belt isn’t even on all the way, and he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“What if I don’t want to forget it, Frankie?”

You see the realization strike him through the eyes, the throat, the chest, his gut, his brown eyes swimming with shame and horror. He leans over as if kicked and presses a hand against your doorway. His thumb rubs the corner and he swallows.

“So you listened to it already?”

“Yeah, I did.” He closes his eyes briefly, hanging his head, every apology in every language he knows sitting right behind his teeth. “But did you hear what I said?”

He frowns at you through those thick eyebrows. “What?”

“When I opened the door, did you hear what I said?”

“You said –,” that beautiful bottom lip parts from its sensual top and Frankie blinks at you. The oily blackness of shame has evaporated from his eyes, but that stormy fear rages on.

You inhale, breath getting caught on every knot in your spine, and step back.

“We need to talk.”

He glances once over his shoulder, as if taking in the hallway to your apartment for the last time, and he steps inside. Immediately his height and broadness fill out every empty space in your tiny living room and you’re launched back into the memory of when the boys came over for Christmas and there was hardly enough room for anyone, but somehow you all made it work and after four rounds of DDR, everyone was so tired and drunk, you passed out pillows and blankets and you spent your first adult Christmas at what could have been mistaken for a thirteen year old’s slumber party. It was one of the happiest times of your life.

His thick fingers clench and unclench when Frankie spies your phone on the floor, like a bomb waiting to go off.

Your brain struggles to default to hostess mode because you can’t think of anything to say.

Do you want coffee?

Do you want some cereal?

Do you want to–

“Tell me what happened last night.” You surprise yourself, Frankie, and your whirring brain by cutting right to it. As with the first question when you opened the door to him, there’s something inside of you that has taken on wings, spread them wide, and threatens to soar out of your body. Frankie’s here, he’s here, and he said he wants you –

He called you baby.

You breathe in, trying to scrape up some courage from the bottom of your lungs, wishing in the back of your mind under everything else that you’d chosen literally anything else to go to bed in than your Tweedie Bird shirt from Six Flags.

“I don’t understand, Frankie. Please help me understand.”

With a monumental sigh, he rubs his wide hand across his face and up into his hair, his other hand lifting his cap up off his head so his fingers can dig into his curls. It’s only then that you realize Benny’s cowboy hat he wore last night is gone and his tried and true Standard Oil ball cap is back. Meaning he must have gone home at some point. When did he realize (or remember) that he’d left you that voicemail?

“I’m gonna get my ass kicked,” he murmurs, eyes darting like a fox to your bedroom door. “Maybe that’s exactly what I deserve.”

“He’s not here.” This great thing arcs between you, the emptiness a presence and clarity all at the same time.

“What do you mean? Where is he?”

“We broke up.”

“When? Why?”

“Last night, after we left the bar. We got into an argument. He doesn’t like the way . . .”

Frankie – physically, mentally, emotionally, fundamentally – overwhelms you. He’s across the room in an instant, closer than you think he’s ever been before. But maybe this is the first and only time you’ve ever allowed yourself to enjoy it. Revel in his closeness and let this caged feeling in your chest break free. You touch his chest with the flat of your palm, the size of it, the breadth of him, staggering. You literally feel weak at the knees.

“He doesn’t like the way what?” His voice luxuriates in his throat – warm, deep. He sounds like what you imagine a hot spring feels like against your skin.

“He didn’t like the way I looked at you.” Your fingers make circles where they did into his shirt. His hands have found their way, after all this time, to your waist. “The way I always look at you, Frankie.”

His breath, subsequent to the ghost of his lips, across your forehead is so gentle it makes you close your eyes, to block out one sense to encourage another.

You feel him swallow even though he’s a foot away from you.

“Why –,” he stops, and starts again, just like on the phone call, “why do you look at me . . . when you have him?”

“Oh, Frankie.” His grip on your waist tightens as if you’re about to disappear forever. “I took him because I can’t have you.”

You blame the tears on the hangover, the headache, and the way he takes your chin between his thumb and knuckle.

Grateful.

He’s looking at you, eyes soft, mouth curved into a disbelieving smile, with gratitude.

“He’s the furthest thing from you because I tried to get you out of my system – I did – I promise. I can’t lose our friendship, Frankie, but it’s killing me . . . not having you. Nick said it was obvious the way I felt about you and that was a problem for our relationship, so he tried to make me choose between you and him and every time, without a doubt, I’ll always choose–,”

This is the right time, he supposes.

Hand over your cheek, he holds you still in silence to press his mouth to yours. The final word of your sentence dies on his tongue, muffled by a soft groan of surprise. Your breath is terrible, your skin is oily and damp, he knows he stinks like the bottom of a wet bar, but he can’t find himself to care. Your mouth opens to take him and the hand on your cheek sinks to your neck as you both move past the initial shock of I’m finally getting to do this and you’re not pulling away and into an actual, proper, deep kiss that sends sparks into his toes. Your tongue marks the bottom of his mouth, your arms going around his neck like you want more – you need more – and Frankie pulls back.

Not only because he’s slightly dizzy but because he a) won’t fuck you for the first time on your living room floor and b) absolutely will not do it hungover.

“Breakfast. Do you like . . . uhm, breakfast?” He can’t quite focus on a single spot on your face, eyes half-lidded and gaze blurred.

You giggle, letting his beard tickle your nose as you sneak your face into his neck. He sways a bit with you, his arms around your back, and you don’t think he’s even realizing what he’s doing.

“Yes, Frankie. I like breakfast. I eat it almost every day, in fact.”

He grunts, neck suddenly flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry, I mean –,”

“I know what you mean, baby.” You lean back and run your fingers through the thatch of curls at the back of his neck. Both of you are so grimy but you can’t care. “I’d love breakfast.”

Frankie smiles his Frankie smile and the thing in your chest is illuminated in gold.

“How do you feel about conchas?”

Translations:

Como tu amiga, te ruego que se lo digas. Por favor, no puedo hacer esto por mucho más tiempo. Estarías más feliz y ella estaría más feliz. No me mires así, sabes que lo único que quiere es que la beses y la beses y luego hagas otras cosas. = As your friend, I beg you to tell her. Please, I can't do this for much longer. You would be happier and she would be happier. Don't look at me like that, you know all she wants is for you to kiss her and kiss her and then do other things.

¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste? = Idiot! Did you call her?

Déjame en paz. Voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. = Leave me alone. I am going to tell her. She will know.

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