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penvisions · 25 days

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the melting point {chapter 18}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (exEMT! Reader)

Summary: Time moves and so does your world.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: references to canon typical violence, gun violence, reference to previous injuries, recovery, physical therapy, therapy, anxiety, medical jargon, description of injuries (not detailed), mention of surgical scarring, reader has limited mobility, reader uses a walker, reader uses a wheelchair, reader uses a cane, panic, depression, anxiety, reader is self-conscious in her body, a lot of emotions, body modification, reader gets some, pet names, a lot of emotions! reader has described as having specific color hair and tattoos

A/N: it's not the best, but it's a good step toward the end of this lovely little series. happy frankie friday, y'all!

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Frankie was pacing, the envelope opened, and the contents laid out.

Aggravated assault.

Child Services have been contacted.

Will was the first to be called, in order to get an attorney through the VA.

Pope was the second, because he had been witness to the incident in question.

A call interrupted the list of immediate people who needed to be reached out to. Child Services calling to confirm Frankie’s residence and let him know an officer would be conducting a home visit in the following days. Frankie’s mother, Isabella, had said she would stay the night beforehand, to ensure the house was in order and to talk to the officer on her son’s behalf before whatever appointment was set. And that she would be staying that night to help work through anything needing her help.

Benny was called third, because he had been there when Frankie had begun to deal with his anger issues and attended meetings with him where he spoke about it early in his recovery. To vouch that the man had never been violent outside of small outbursts and never in front of his child or in public.

Morgan was fourth, to question of she knew the man Pope had claimed frequented the bar across from Brass Knuckles.

It…it was a lot on top of an already overwhelming situation.

“Frankie?” You called as you tried to inch the feet of your walker as close to the threshold of the back door. The panel of the sliding door had been closed but the man wasn’t in any of the other places you had looked after waking from your slumber. It was the next day, a hectic one to be sure as more paperwork and things needed to be in order. His mother and daughter were upstairs, busy with the child’s few hours’ worth of homework to ensure she stayed on point for school when she returned after the winter break. The first half of the school year being done in the comfort of her own home, to help her handle the aftermath of what had happened.

That had been a conversation you hadn’t been a part of, something Frankie had admitted to you. The decision needing to be made while you had still been unconscious and in the hospital. Between his parents and his friends, trying their best to gauge the outcome of each option and what was best for Lex.

The clatter of glass falling and cracking was loud, spiking your heart in your chest. You called out for him again, worry dripping from you.

“I’m okay, querida! Just trying to fix this sun catcher and I accidently dropped it.”

“Is it okay?”

“…no.” His sheepish admission came from around the corner of the house.

“Fransisco!”

“It was an accident!” He appeared from where he had to have been messing with the charm hanging from a tree in the yard, bare feet hushing across the grass before they met the wooden stairs of the deck. He couldn’t hide the wide smile taking over his lips, delighting in the sight of you trying to hide your laughter.

“So…”

“Alright, alright, lemme get changed.”

“You didn’t even give me the chance to say anything yet.”

“That’s your ‘I have errands’ voice, sweet girl. Heard it enough times when we were trying to plan our first date.”

“Hey, I don’t wanna hear that. You essentially got me with that one date, so-“

“That’s not-“ His mind tried to supply him with other instances but it was the only one that was official.

“We hung out enough for you to fall hopelessly in love with me!”

“But not on official dates!” You giggled, feeling heat creep up your neck from your chest at the words.

“Then lemme take you out to one tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, hand splaying across your lower back.

“But…child services is coming tomorrow, we’ve got to focus on that…”

“We’ll both need to relax after that, I promise it’s okay.”

“Frankie…did,” You pulled back a little to gaze into the amber of his eyes lit up by the morning sun. “Did you really attack him?”

His forehead rested against yours, his eyes clenching shut and hiding them from your searching gaze.

“Yes. I did. Pope and I went down to the station to hear his statement and he was…he was saying all kinds of awful things about you and Lex and I just snapped.”

A hand to the back of his neck and your face pressed to his chest helped to calm him down. Shifting together, he helped you back into the house and into a new set of clothes to leave the house.

The shop was bustling, a line out the door and your dedicated employees working hard to fulfill each customer’s needs. Pride swelled up, a large smile pulling at your lips as you moved past everyone and toward the back. It had been easier to come in through the front door than deal with the two steps up into the back of the building. You could hear footsteps up above, signaling that Taylor was moving about.

He must be on break, running the shop for you while you recovered no doubt taking a lot out of him. It wasn’t his profession of choice but he knew enough to help out where it was needed. You really hadn’t wanted to shut down the shop for months on end, especially after the nearly two it had taken you to wake up and get clearance from the hospital to leave.

Business was booming, the city showing an outpouring of love and support for you in the wake of what had happened. You were grateful, even if it felt like you were doing something bad sneaking in to steal some supplies for tonight’s family dinner.

Alexia had wanted to decorate cupcakes, something she mentioned a few days ago as you both fell asleep in the middle of the day with a cartoon movie on the tv, her anti-anxiety medication and your pain management ones getting the better of you two as Frankie was out in the garage tuning up the truck.

Will and Benny had stopped by for lunch, the gym being run by the staff allowed for the two of them to run around town and organize the fight night events that had been delayed a bit because of the shooting. They were debating the pros and cons of hiring a food truck for the event or getting a caterer to set up a spread in the front of the gym.

“I can always just cook for you?” You suggested as you carefully shuffled up from your seat on the couch, wanting a cup of tea to take the next dose of medication. “That was you don’t lose those earning or have to budget for it in the first place.”

The brothers shared a look behind your back, unsure of how to react. You were never one to offer something if you didn’t feel like you could handle it. But cooking for an anticipated crowd of over a hundred people would have you on your feet for quite a while. And while you were moving around with a little more ease, you were still keeping your walker close by. Frankie insisting on a wheelchair for the store and longer trips from the house.

A clatter had them both on their feet in a heartbeat, moving toward the kitchen to see you straining to reach the kettle on the second shelf of a cabinet. You had one hand on the counter and the other was stretched up, causing the fabric of your shirt to ride up. The shining skin of the scars from your surgery caught their eyes and they quickly jumped in to help. Will’s front was warm against your back as he gently swatted your hand away to get the kettle for you. His arms came around as he lowered it to the counter. Gasping at the flare of desire from the feel of a strong body against you, you froze.

“You okay, mante? You didn’t hurt yourself did you?”

“N-no, everything’s fine.”

“Honey, you’re burning up,” Will placed a hand on the back of your neck, gauging your temperature as best he could. Your head hung between your shoulders, both palms flat on the counter’s surface. When he shifted to reach for the med kit, he brushed impossibly closer, and you let out a charged sound that tapered off into breathy sigh.

Everyone froze.

“Mante?”

“Just, drop it.” You were shuffling away, prying yourself from the small space between Will’s body and the counter.

“Honey, you know you can talk to us.”

“No, it’s embarrassing. Frankie would be…mortified if I talked to you.” You tried to fight the heat rising to your face, clothing too tight all of a sudden, the air in the kitchen stifling.

“He’s not touching you, is he?” Will asked softy, voice holding sincerity. He’s seen this type of rift open up between people and couples in recovery. He had multiple pamphlets and brochures for those who approached him asking for help. He was the sole source of information, of course he knew what was going on. But he mentally berated himself for not seeing the signs of it sooner.

“He wouldn’t like me talking about it…with you.”

“That doesn’t matter, do you need to talk about it?”

“I have- a little, with Morgan but…I don’t even know what’s going on.”

“He’s probably just worried about hurting you, Mante.”

“But he is, hurting me. I-I don’t even really care all that stuff right now, I’m too tired and sore all the time but…it would be nice to know he still wanted me like that.”

“Does he help you change?”

“Y-yeah, yes.”

“Does he help you bathe?”

“He asked me not to unless he’s in the house.”

“Sweetheart, he’s probably worried about pushing you. I mean, not to be too crass, but your hips are kinda important for sex.”

You huffed a laugh, panic and anxiety waning at the guy’s well-meaning intentions.

“Isabella and I haven’t either…since it happened.” Will confessed with an open demeaner, not wanting you to think it was just you or just Frankie. That it was a normal response to traumatic events, to reassure you. And of course, you would know but being so weighted down with everything he also knew how hard it was to think rationally about it all. “It’s normal, nothing it wrong with you, okay?”

The officer regarded you curiously. Eyes downturned to the ring on your left hand.

“Now, we have no mention of you on any legal paperwork regarding Mr. Morales. And your official address is listed as the place of your business, is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s correct.”

“You were the recent victim in the shooting that occurred on….” The date of the last summer farmer’s market was rattled off. “Where you were the one to run to the aid of the child in question, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Now, can either of you tell me why Mr. Morales wasn’t within range to do so himself?”

“Excuse me?”

“Mr. Morales, please, let’s all keep calm here. It’s a simple question.”

“Does allowing his daughter to go off with one of his friends during an open market make him a bad father? Because that’s what your question seems to be getting at.”

“Ma’am, please. It’s a routine question.”

“I was yards away from her when the shooter decided to open fire in a public space.”

“And yet, you didn’t run to her aid.”

“I did, the second the first shot went off and the crowd began to panic, I was looking for her.”

“So you didn’t have eyes on her.” The officer made a note on the file open in her lap. You bristled at the uncaring demeanor, unable to hold your tongue as she talked at you and Frankie instead of with you.

“I would like to speak to the child in question.”

“That can wait a minute, excuse me.” You leveled her with a focused look, not willing to roll over and show your stomach to this woman who was supposed to be conducting an interview. But instead she was taking everything and twisting it to the narrative she was trying to depict in her notes. “Frankie had eyes on her. He always knows who she’s with, where they’re going, for how long and ensures he’s the one dropping off and picking up or it’s someone he trusts with his daughter. He is a good father. I don’t think the focus here should be whether or not he reacted fast enough to a shooter scenario but the fact that there was a shooter scenario that you are trying to twist in your favor.”

“I am merely asking routine questions, the shooting response is only one of the areas in which I am concerned. The other would be your sudden presence in this house. How it affects the child in question.”

“You’re not even using her name. Her name is Alexia. She is a very real, very traumatized child who doesn’t need anything else upsetting her. I get that you may not understand the dynamic Frankie has with his friends and how they care for his daughter as if she was their own. Or how I’m “affecting” her presence by being in her home that previously only contained her and her father. But you’re going to sit there and ask us questions and listen to what we have to say.”

“What is your relationship with the child?”

“I’m her-“

“She’s my fiancé, she intends to sign the guardianship papers to share legal responsibility with me.”

“And…is it because you think it’s too much to handle on your own?” The officer looked less tense, at least. Nodding her head along as she looked something over in her file. “It states here you never reached out for resources that are available to you. Can I ask why that is?”

“No, ma’am. It’s because she asked me to. We have a beautiful bond and she wanted to make it a little more tangible and it was a way for Alexia to feel included once the wedding rolls around.”

“And as for the resources, I served and did my time. I make enough money for us to live comfortably, and I have a good support system. I didn’t want to take away from those resources should there be a child in a worse off situation.”

“Okay, thank you.” She closed her file, looking up at the united front you and Frankie made on the couch across from her armchair. “The rest of my questions are for Alexia.”

“She’s upstairs with my mother at the moment, let me go fetch her.”

“That won’t be necessary, I’ll see myself up the stairs if that’s alright with you?”

A curt nod from Frankie was all he could manage, knowing that this wasn’t going well. It wasn’t going well at all.

Nearly an hour later, everyone was gathered around the kitchen table as the officer went over her notes for the visit.

“Based on the conclusion of this interview, I do not deem Mr. Morales a bad guardian nor someone who appears to have present day anger management issues. He had no prior history of assault and if everyone else we reach out to that is a part of this family’s circle corroborates the same narrative, then there will be no further investigation. Thank you for your time, have a lovely rest of your day.”

The snap of the thick folder in the officer’s hand startled you, head ducking and hands coming up to cover it. She at least had the decency to look apologetic for the action, not thinking of what the sound would do to you.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” A nod paired with her words, and she was gone.

The rest of the day was spent talking to the attorney Will had found that was more than willing to take on the case. A court date had been established for the end of the following month.

No sooner than the door closed behind her and you all took a collective breath, was there another knock at the door. Three long strides led Frankie back to it, opening it up with a pinched expression. He was trying to remain calm, but he was shaken beyond belief. One small moment of instinctual protective anger and he had created this whole mess not sitting well with the man. But it wasn’t the officer returning, it was your nurse, picking you up for a scheduled physical therapy appointment.

“Hi, yes, of course. Lemme get her bag and she’s all set here in the living room.”

“Pastel! Can I go with you?”

“Oh, um, Lex, I’m not sure.” You looked to Frankie as she descended down the stairs, Isabella moving to slow her speedy approach as you pulled yourself up from your position on the couch with the walker. “You have to ask your father.”

“But you’re gonna be my Mama Pastel, you can say yes now!”

“…That’s technically true, but your father has final say, mija.”

“Yes, mi amor, you can. Papa needs to take care of some things, but it’ll be good for you to get out of the house.” It was the first time she had asked to leave since the shooting, surely a good step that she wanted to go somewhere, even if it was to the rehabilitation center with you for something so routine.

Three months.

Three months since your entire life was upended for the second time.

Frankie’s court date had last month, postponed to today. Not an official trial, due to the plaintiff being sentenced to a maximum facility. His case had been open and shut, no way of getting out of serving time. He had deliberately carried an automatic weapon into a public space and opened fire. Even if he hadn’t pleaded guilty in the hopes of garnering a deal, no one was siding with him or cutting him any slack. No lawyers had been willing to take him on as a client and he had denied a state-appointed one, knowing full well the consequences of his actions.

He had entered the courthouse a walking mess of anxiety and worry. A man concerned about the future he could provide for his daughter, for you, for his family. If he had been deemed an unsatisfactory guardian with notations of anger management issues, his job would be on the line. Tourism bringing so much to the city and the company wanted to aid Vets in any way they could. But would surely draw the line as such an accusation and paper trail.

He had emerged from the courthouse light on his feet with a grin on his face. Stopping at the shop to check on things for you, purchasing a bouquet for you and Lex on his way home.

Then had been Lex’s birthday, where she wished out loud as she blew her candles out that she wanted to go back to school. Frankie had a long conversation with her therapist, and they agreed she would return to school after the winter break. The first half of the school year done at her own pace but well enough at home to allow for her to seamlessly integrate back in.

Taylor had returned home with a promise to come out three times a year. The guys had one last night out with him along, having bonded with him over the course of his time here. Morgan helping to make sure they didn’t over indulge and that they all got home okay. And another night with everyone involved when Morgan had a night off of her own. Though Taylor wasn’t her focus, having gotten together with Santiago, she was sad to see him go along with everyone else. You missed him, his presence and calming demeanor. The way he had brought home to you in such small ways you hadn’t known you had missed until they were right in front of you. But you had left for a reason and he had a life and a kid to get back to.

Will and Isabella were official and he has asked her to move in with him, prompting Benny to search for a place of his own. He was working on convincing the new assistant he hired to let him take her out, but she admitted to you one day when she came into the shop that she liked how hard he was trying to get her attention. You both laughed, lamenting over the eager attitude he possessed. But ultimately you had turned serious and said he was a good man who would do right by her. That she should give him the chance to show her how much he cared.

You had gone back to working in the shop, though you needed a cane to help you get around. It was a part of who you were now, spells of numbness and healed injuries aching long after recovery. But you were stronger than you had been, able to stand on your feet and do what you loved best. The shop was to be featured in a second article, praising your bravery and return to work, the same writer from before presenting you with a ‘best local bakery’ award from the open poll the magazine holds each year.

But now….now you were running late.

Cursing under your breath, you carefully moved down the stairs of the apartment and down to the ground floor. The cats had been moved to the house forever ago, but there was a stray that came around the back door and you wanted to put a better dish out for them to have food and water. It had run from you, but you hoped it would come back for the fresh food and new bowl.

Locking up, you loaded up into the truck and carefully took off across downtown.

The twinkling lights strewn up were beautiful, reflecting off the large windows and glass bottles of the bar and you leaned over to press your lips to his neck over his collar. Though he didn’t turn to face you, in deep conversation with the people across from you, his arm moved around you and pulled you close, hand caressing your hip over the fabric of your dress.

An engagement party, curtesy of Pope’s determined mind and the help of the magazine editor. She had been delighted and more than happy to help cover the costs for the celebration, she had pulled you into a hug when you arrived arm in arm with Frankie. Everyone posted around the bar, the one where you and Frankie had your first official date, and cheered as you entered. You had been sure it was closed, worried that Frankie had mixed up his days for the reservation, but he had said Santigo had made it for him.

It had been an amazing surprise, tears of affection threatening to spill over your lash line at all of your friends and favorite people in one place. To celebrate your and Frankie’s love.

The food was amazing, the full menu available to order and you made sure to get a serving of crispy brussel sprouts that were too spicy for Frankie. He had smiled fondly at you as you inhaled them, taking delight in how the simplest of things could bring a smile to your face. Just as you popped the last one in your mouth, he was pulling you out of the booth and up on your feet. When you reached for your cane, he gently took both your hands in his and guided you to the middle of the floor, where people were dancing.

“Fransisco, if I recall correctly you said you don’t dance.” You teased, hands going around his neck as his went around your waist to settle on the small of your back.

“I don’t, sweet girl. But for you, I’m willing to try.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, eyes taking in the way your long curls framed your face. How the auburn of them was complimented by the dark green almost black of your dress, the ink on your skin crystalline from your glittery lotion Lex had coerced you into buying for the guest bathroom.

“You’re perfect just the way you are, mi amor.” You allowed him to gently sway your bodies back and forth, small words of affection flowing between you as the music lulled into a soft medley of strings and horns.

“I’m so glad Pope pestered you everyday, what I wouldn’t give to have seen him get shot down the first time.” Frankie chuckled, chest vibrating close and warming you up from the inside out.

“He took it in stride, I think. He likes a challenge.”

Off to the side the man in question was seated at a booth, his tie loosening and his attention on his best friend and love. His heart full and his mind working in overtime to try and figure out how to top this for Frankie’s bachelor party. His attention called back to the present as a small figure bounded up to him with a fresh new fizzy drink.

“Tio Santi! They had strawberry syrup!”

“That’s amazing, mi corazon. Muy delicioso!” He reached out to lift her up, settling her in his lap as she caught sight of her dad and soon to be mom dancing together. Completely caught up in each other in the best way. She smiled, happy.

“Are you excited to go back to school, mi corazon?” Santiago bounced her on his leg, the layers of her dress floating in the air with his motions.

“Yes, but I’m also nervous.”

“It’s okay to be nervous.”

“My friends will all have new friends, I’m afraid they won’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“Nonsense, everyone is gonna crowd around you and be so excited to see you again.”

“I hope so.”

“I promise you, it’ll all be okay. You’ve come so far, mi amor.”

“Pastel too! And Papa!”

“Them too.” Santi looked toward where you were still softly swaying with Frankie, slow music playing over the speakers. The backdrop of the flowers and warm string lights strewn over the ceiling lighting up your features enough to see the soft smiles you shared with each other. Frankie’s hands were around your waist, helping to support you while you own were wrapped around his neck. Whispering sweet nothings to each other as the night continued on.

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dividers: by the lovely @/saradika-graphics

taglist: @tanzthompson @clevergirl74 @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @anoverwhelmingdin @jessthebaker @peppermintfury @for-a-longlongtime @peppermintfury @tuquoquebrute @readingiskeepingmegoing @christinamadsen @heareball @soft-persephone @vivian-pascal

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oncasette · 2 years

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𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛 𝗗𝗥𝗢𝗣𝗦 & 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗘

frankie morales x fem!reader (aka ‘fox’)

summary: 2.1k.

You almost didn’t believe your eyes at first. Of course he was here. Of course he was here, on the first vacation you’d managed to drag yourself into after he left. Of-fucking-course. In that stupid hat, nonetheless. You tipped the last two sips back in a huff.

or the one where frankie finds himself on a two-week cruise with his ex-fiancé barely a year after their breakup.

warnings: not beta’d, implied smut

notes: hi, my loves. this was initially written as part of a series i planned out but i have no inspo or motivation to really continue it. please enjoy this fic as a one-off. <3

masterlist | taglist

The first time you saw Frankie Morales was not the first time he saw you.

The first time you saw Frankie Morales was in the dingy, probably mold-infested stands of Benny’s first fight, courtesy of one aforementioned Benjamin Miller. You hadn’t known Benny for long, probably a month if you were pushing it, but you’d become fast friends thanks to your moonlighting as a bartender and his affinity for being The Beer Garden’s resident pickup artist.

Somehow the oversized child you’d quickly warmed up to had managed to convince you to come to his fight. He made sure to promise he was a real good fighter and that he wouldn’t be back at your place later that night, bleeding on your couch cushions. Well, that and free beer.

He’d even gone as far as driving you to the run-down arena. He’d parked his jeep in the closest spot possible and had led you into the building with his gym bag thrown over one of his shoulders and his free hand hovering on your lower back.

“It’ll be fine. And if it’s not, I’ll owe you one,” he’d said once you’d reached the glass door and the point of not being able to leave.

“Woah, Benny-“

Benny’s groupies had spotted you before you’d spotted them. A blonde guy that you knew was a Miller boy, both from familial resemblance and the picture you’d been shown by a drunk Benny two weeks ago at the bar, and another guy with his back to you.

“Hey, there he is!” Will had said, clapping a hand over his brother’s shoulder. It hadn’t been more than a few seconds of hellos and pleasantries before the brothers were venturing off the locker room and leaving you with the man you’d just met.

Frankie was taller than you’d pictured. From everything Benny had told you, at least. Softer, warmer maybe. He looked like he could probably heat your whole apartment from just standing in the doorway. He had a patchy beard that barely matched the ‘macho-man’ run-down Benny had given you on the drive over and his ball cap seemed entirely too worn–but cute, you’d thought.

He’d been entirely too charming that night, with that smile and those big brown eyes. The way his hair was just barely long enough to curl around the edges of that hat and the fact that he smelled like cinnamon and sex on legs. And the fact that he’d managed to make you blush in under ten minutes with the spanish rolling off his tongue.

“So what did that pendejo tell you about me, huh?” he’d asked about a half-hour into the event.

“You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

You found out Benny won the fight that night through Benny, if that says anything.

The first time Frankie saw you, though, was… also through Benny. He’d kept a photo of you in his wallet totally, completely on accident and not totally, un-completely not to show Frankie his new hot bartender best friend. Because Benny would never do something like that, don’t be silly.

But, nevertheless, the photo booth strand had fallen out of his wallet a solid second-and-a-half after Frankie had flipped the leather open to grab enough money out to tip the pizza man, and he probably would’ve thought nothing of it had your phone number not been scrawled across the back of it.

“New friend?” He’d asked on his trip back to the living room, picture pinched between his thumb and the two large boxes in his hands.

“She works at that bar I’ve been hanging at recently. The one I’ve been telling you about?” Benny said, eyeing the planted picture. His wallet was handed back to him picture-less as Frankie studied the four images. You seemed comfortable with the blond, friendly enough, but there had been nothing particularly romantic about the poses.

“Seems like she likes you,” Frankie chuffed, thumbing the sharpie digits. Benny hummed in response and he didn’t know whether to take that as an agreement or not as he flipped open one of the pizza boxes.

“I’m thinking about inviting her to the match on Friday,” Benny had said. He hadn’t been thinking about it. He’d already asked you three days prior.

“Oh, yeah?” Frankie had exhaled as he reclined in the Miller’s Lazy Boy. The pictures never made it back into Benny’s wallet, though. They’d served their purpose.

…

It had always been easy with Frankie. Like you knew exactly what your next step was going to be. Like he was leading you in this incredibly complex waltz that only he knew the steps to and somehow you’d managed to follow along perfectly without stepping on a single one of his toes.

Nevertheless, it took Frankie about six months after meeting you to ask you out. On a date, a real one. Not another Friday night sprawled out on opposite ends of your couch watching whatever movie you’d picked out that week. No, a real date this time. With flowers and that cute sundress you’ve been dying for an excuse to wear and, still, his ball cap. It was tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, but it was still there.

He’d showed up your front door right on time, partially because he’d been circling the block for the last twenty minutes, with a bouquet of chamomiles and baby’s breath because he thought he’d remembered you saying something that one time about liking chamomile tea and he knew it wasn’t the same thing but. You kissed him before his thoughts could wander too far away from him.

He’d taken you somewhere small, nowhere fancy. A diner just off the nearest highway that served everything in 50s costumes and roller skates, but somewhere perfect nonetheless. Perfect, not because the “restaurant” was anything to call home about, but because he’d actually managed to ask you out without screwing it all up, for once.

Though, he’d asked you more on accident than on purpose. It’d been at Pope’s place, on a Saturday because Friday’s were specifically carved out of his schedules for you now. There’d been a fire in the pit out back, but the two of you were sitting probably closer than you’d ever sat on Pope’s front porch swing, watching as the sky melted into a lavender color. If he had a say in anything, Frankie would’ve slipped his arm over your shoulder from where they were itching beside his leg.

He hadn’t noticed your fingers prodding at his lap until he felt the pounding in his chest. Like his heart knew your touch before he did.

And he was about to ask what you were doing, or lean in to kiss you if that’s where this was headed, or really both, when he saw you unwrapping the cough drop that had previously been in his pocket.

“You bitch, I thought this was candy,” you’d sputtered after allowing the disc to swirl over your tongue for a moment.

It hadn’t taken him long to kiss you after that, cough drop in mouth and all. He’d pressed forward without a second thought, before his brain could tell him to stop, and he’d allowed himself to kiss you with all the love-sick infatuation he’d accumulated over the course of the time he’d spent with you. And somehow, miraculously, he’d been met with you kissing him back with just as much fervor.

“Would you let me take you out sometime?” he’d asked as he pulled away, far enough to breathe but close enough to still be breathing in you.

It hadn’t taken him long to kiss you and it hadn’t taken him long to ask you to move in, either.

“Are you serious?” you’d asked, fully pulled back from Frankie’s chest and sat upright. A stark contrast to where you’d been when the words ‘Why don’t you move in?’ had quite literally fallen out of his mouth.

“Cariño, of course I’m serious,” he’d said, pushing the sleep out of his limbs as he sat up to lean against the headboard.

“You want me to live here? Like, with you? Sleep in this bed every night?” your fingers smoothed over the sheets. His laughter vibrated through his chest as he watched your hands twitch at your sides, close enough to feel but not touch you.

“Yeah, sweetheart, with me.” He’d leaned forward. “In this bed.” You could feel his breath fanning across your jaw. “Every night.”

His lips were always softer in the morning. They said softer things, pulled softer noises from you.

His fingers had found your hips, thumbing the hemline of the Fleetwood Mac t-shirt you’d stolen from him. Large palms had pulled you closer, resting you on his thighs while his mouth slanted over yours.

“Do I get half the closet?” You’d pulled away and you swear Francisco actually whined as he chased your lips.

“Whatever you want,” he’d said.

“And a key?” His hands had trailed up your torso, pushing the fabric further as he went.

“And a key, and the bed, and the whole damn house, if you want it, hermosa,” he’d whispered, gesturing for you to lift your arms so that he could pull the shirt off your shoulders entirely.

You’d had your first fight the night you officially moved in. Over something stupid and entirely too mundane to remember what started it, but you remembered how it’d ended. Not the fight, but the night. With Frankie wrapped around you in your now shared bed. With his nose tucked against your hairline as his thumb stroked the base of your spine.

“It’s all for you. Everything’s for you, cariño,” he’d said.

He’d proposed on your living room floor seven months later. With your legs wrapped around his waist and some cheesy rom-com he’d put on barely ten minutes ago playing on the television and a fireplace warming your skin from where you were sprawled on the shag rug. He’d pulled the ring out of his pants that were thrown to the side of him and he’d asked you to marry him with probably the biggest smile he’d ever graced you with.

And you’d stayed engaged for about a year when he’d left. Or had asked you to leave. Dreaming of a white wedding, only to end up shredding your wedding magazines at your mother’s house a week later.

…

The wait to get on the actual ship was long and boring and entirely too drawn out for your taste. By the time you’d finally stepped off dry land, your feet hurt, your bag was about ten pounds too heavy, and you were probably sporting a mild case of heat exhaustion–if the family of seven that had been waiting in line behind you had anything else to say about it. At the very least, you hadn’t been forced to carry your two duffel bags much further than the edge of the boat, at which point about three different crew members relieved you of your belongings and shoved a drink in your hand. A bay breeze with a purple umbrella, you hum.

It hadn’t taken you long to begin sipping on the drink and it’d taken you even less time to find yourself pressed against one of the handrails of the ship. It hadn’t left the port, yet, but the view facing the water was still nice.

You were excited, not that you would admit that to anyone but your notes app, but you were excited. To get some decent sun, at the least. It was almost like a fresh start, your first vacation in over a year, your first cruise really ever. Just you, the ocean, and about a thousand other strangers for two weeks.

Benny caught your eye before Frankie did. He still had that insanely boisterous disposition you never thought you’d learn to miss as the four of them huddled around one of the welcome brochures.

You thought you’d averted your gaze in time to avoid him—you could even hear yourself saying “surely this commercial cruise line is big enough for the two of us!” in the back of your head—but you had no idea exactly how wrong you were. You needed a drink.

He’d straightened up from where you’d spotted him leaned over the railing. God, you were beautiful. Taller—no, harder maybe. You held yourself a little tighter than he remembered. Even in that sundress, you’d lost that soft edge he’d always loved. He almost allowed himself to hope he hadn’t caused that, but he knew better.

“Fox?” he calls after you, after your silhouette. You pretended not to hear him, or maybe you really hadn’t heard him, back fully turned as you began your walk towards the residential half of the boat before the boys you used to call family could even look up at you.

#frankie morales series #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #triple frontier series #triple frontier x reader #sun bummin

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aquanatalie · 1 month

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#frankie morales series #javier peña

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jedimaster3000 · 2 years

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Shelter

Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+ (NO MINORS)

Fluff, some angst, smut.

Warnings: Infidelity, language, explicit smut (handjob, piv sex). Please let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 2.6k+

A/N: I’m so sorry this took me so long! I’ve been really busy with college and work but I’ve been thinking about this two non-stop. This chapter is filled with Gabriel Garcia Marquez quotes and references, pardon me, I just thought it was beautiful. I hope you enjoy, thank you for interacting and thank you for reading!

Masterlist | Tag List Form | Part 3

“My dad said the date is set.”

The words dropped from your mouth with practiced lightness but for Frankie, no mattress could have made the fall feel softer. Instead snapping back into reality with something similar to a hit to the face or a punch to his chest.

He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t. Did you even expect him to say anything? You always sat on the facts and ignored them, you took your engagement ring out and forgot about its shine on Frankie’s bedside table.

But this time it was shining brighter, not in a beautiful, star-like way. But in a house-consuming fire type of way. Trying to swallow you whole and never let you go, trying to remain in your finger forever.

Every passing day was a reminder. Your mom sending you more pictures of floral arrangements or wedding dresses, your friends talking about your bachelorette party, and your dad… your dad.

He mentioned it —bragged, actually— about it to every single one of his friends, who couldn’t care less because they had seen you five times tops in their entire lifetime. He called Ethan and offered his help in anything. He reassured you that he would be a great dancer by the time the reception took place.

And you dreaded all of it, had your heart in the back of your throat every time someone brought the topic up. The ring started to feel heavier, sometimes itching or maybe burning your skin, you would never know. You only knew you craved to take it off more and more often.

Frankie was the relief you felt every time you took it off. As if you had gotten away from prison and you had 12 hours to run around. The moments after removing it were filled with passion, adrenaline, and real love, unlike the other times.

You never brought the actual topic up, the wedding. You tried so hard to forget it. But after seeing your dad that morning you couldn’t hold it inside for too long, the burning had started early and by the afternoon it felt a bit too suffocating.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I’m sorry but you know…”

He knew. He didn’t want to, but he knew. The wedding was a real thing, and it was going to happen.

Frankie wasn’t afraid of dying, soldiers like him weren’t supposed to be. He was afraid of snakes, and tornadoes, and most of all he was afraid of losing you. So he preferred death to be parted from you. Even in any complicated way that he could have you, he accepted, and here were the consequences, looming from the shadows a little more every day.

He did what he had become great at, he brushed it all off. Quickly tried to find a way to make you forget about it so it wouldn’t bother you or him, at least for the time being. It was a game that the two of you had created and then become masters at.

How long would you be able to keep it up? The date was set, and the countdown had begun.

The words you had said were left hanging around the two of you, making you uncomfortable and purposely keeping your feet on the earth. A beating reminder that this moment you had was just that, an hour —or two sometimes— at a time, pure gold and more than Frankie thought he deserved.

Frankie closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again.

Not today. I choose. Not today.

He shook it off and deposited a soft kiss on your forehead as you got comfortable leaning on him, your legs extended on his couch as you opened your book again.

“What’s this word?” You asked and pointed at one, “Iu…iunic?” You tried to pronounce it.

“Única,” Frankie answered in his fluent Spanish, “Means unique.”

“Uh, you’re right,” you mentioned taking a look at the English page of the bilingual version of Love in the Time of Cholera that you were currently reading.

Única.

Frankie Morales knew from a very young age that you were the only woman he could ever love. With all the intensity that word implied, he knew that no one else could ever take your place in that definition. He was convinced love looked like you.

He saw it in the way you smiled, he found it hidden behind your eyes, and he heard it in the melody of your laugh. Frankie had not fallen in love, love had fallen on top of him, suddenly and violently. He was filled by it and completely blinded, he thought the worst parts of you were the brightest ones, the way you yelled at someone when you were truly mad, the desperate cries when things didn’t turn out your anxieties consumed you to the point of exasperation, the occasional fight about a whim. It was all wonderful, all human, and all goddess at the same time.

But he did not embrace the feeling until the moment he came back, when he finally knew that he should have never left, when he admitted nothing could be done about it and he was just immersed in you so deeply he felt his soul was no longer just his.

He could not understand how every man wasn’t in love with you, he didn’t understand why every person in a room didn’t turn to look when you entered, but he was happy he was the one that did, he had always loved observing you.

Just like now you frowned as you silently tried to pronounce the Spanish words, he couldn’t look away, fascinated by the mundanity of you. He was under some spell he didn’t know and didn’t want to break free of.

Frankie also knew he was not a perfect man, he was far from it. No one but his own self reminded him of that constantly, he felt unworthy of your trust, of your time, so he valued it like no man could ever before or after him.

His eyes redirected when you paid him a compliment, he blushed when you said you liked his hair or his patchy beard. The most beautiful thing about him was how clueless he was about how adorable he actually was, it was definitely your favorite thing about him.

García Márquez had himself written about that in the book you were currently re-reading: “He is sad but he is all love”.

He had a way of loving where he gave even what he didn’t have. It was lovely, it was hopeless, it was real.

“I’m gonna need you there.”

Your words were once again suspended midair.

“I will be there,” he responded.

And you turned to see him.

“But you know you don’t have to…”

You pressed your hand to his chest and connected with his eyes. The same Frankie you had gotten used to in the last months was there, breath-taking, kind, broken, but nevertheless unconditional.

“I will be there.”

He promised it, and it hurt like hell. To promise the love of your life that you’d be there as they were promised to someone else. But he couldn’t fail you, he had never failed you before.

Frankie giggled, “Do you think the priest will know?”

And you followed with a giggled yourself, “Is that what’s making you nervous?”

“To be chased out of the church while a man in a gown throws water at me would certainly be memorable,” he continued laughing as you did.

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone chases after you with water, remember Jessica Johnson’s party in junior year?”

Frankie shook his head in embarrassment as he remembered the time his shirt had caught on fire when he was drunk and then ran around the whole house with the owner trying to throw a bucket full of water at him. All while you couldn’t stop laughing at his terrified face.

“I looked amazing in that crop top,” he said with fake modesty and you nodded as you went back to asking him how to pronounce certain words from your book.

All the different types of love authors write about were never enough, all different languages and pens were needed to describe the love that had grown between the two of you. Bring Emily Brontë, Gabriel García Márquez, Jane Austen, Pablo Neruda, hell, maybe even Shakespeare. Put them on a round table and have them all put into words what you two meant for each other, and ask them to find a way, a storyline where you can find your happy ending.

Emily and Neruda would probably come up with some poetic lines about how you were so bad at talking about it but felt so strongly attached to him, Jane and García Márquez would write some eventful love confessions from Frankie, and Shakespeare would write the most outrageous world where through misfortunes and mishaps, he’d finally give you a beautiful wedding where the priest doesn’t chase Frankie or give you a plan to fake your death, and instead just bonds you together for eternity.

Have the writers discuss your stares, your eyes that were so different and so deep. Yours, filled with tears and lacking any happiness, and Frankie’s that hid pain and were inundated with some hope. And the moment they found each other, the sunlight that beams and seems to come out of the two pairs looking at each other.

The electricity whenever any part of you touched and the storm of passion that followed and only finished when you shared one last kiss before you ran to your car while putting your ring back on.

Maybe write the tragedy that the two of you were going through, that even though there were so many things tying you to each other, there were also a lot of things keeping you apart. Heavy pieces and big spaces that neither of you knew how to destroy.

Have them write about the love, the pain, the kisses, and the feelings of longing. If it could never materialize you sure would read the book over and over again, keeping it alive in your memory and replaying it as you did with all your favorite books.

Would that be enough?

You were kissing him as you put a bookmark on the page you had stopped reading and then you let it fall on the side of the couch.

His lips pressed into yours almost furiously, claiming you with all eagerness and strength that only characterized him. His hands kept you flushed against him on your lower back as your tongues danced.

The world faded again.

Your hands were soon on his hair, running desperately as he bit your lower lip.

“You think…” you whispered in between kisses, “You think somebody will ever know?”

Frankie turned you over, laying you on your back without separating from you.

“I should tell them,” he said.

His hands went under your blouse and slowly began lifting it as his face remained an inch away from you. His touch was soft yet invasive in the best way possible. He was completely drunk on you.

“I should tell everyone,” he kissed your naked chest, “That you’re the best thing in my life.”

Your own hands took his shirt away while you two continued kissing. You kissed him as if you had all the time in the world, and he kissed you as if you could slip away any second now. There still was a rhythm to it, your rhythm. You just followed until it took you to the most glorious moment.

After your first orgasm, you begged Frankie to let you ride him as if he needed any convincing. You pushed him back slowly until he completely laid down.

With one thigh on each side of his, you sat straight, looking down on him as you grabbed his cock with your right hand. You stroke him up and down and his head sank on a cushion as he grunted your name.

“This okay?” You asked.

“Fuck baby…” he said with his eyes tight shut.

“Look at me Frankie,” you asked.

You always wanted every bit of intimacy with him and it drove him absolutely crazy.

When he opened his eyes he found you licking your other hand so you could now use both to stroke him at a perfect pace.

His own hips dragged slowly as he watched you give him pleasure, he noticed every motion of your body and it turned him on even more. Your small hands in comparison to his length, the sheen over your tits, and the subtle rocking motion you did trying to soothe yourself. Your eyes were lost with lust and a whine came out of you, you needed to have him inside you.

“Ride me beautiful,” he asked in a low voice, “ride me and make yourself come.”

You slowly lowered yourself on his cock, feeling him part you and hissing at the initial sensation.

“You okay?” Frankie asked.

“Yeah,” you sat down and stilled, “It’s just… Uhm we haven’t— we haven’t done this in like a week and you…” you tilted your head to the side as you tried to experimentally roll your hips.

“You’re so big, fuck…” you moaned.

He groaned at the tight feel of you around his cock and intertwined both of your hands together before giving you a reassuring nod, to let you know you could do this on your terms.

When you felt open enough, you rolled your hips again, the feeling becoming more and more comfortable. You used his hands as support and began a slow and steady pace that made you feel every vein, he was reaching the point of you that made you lose your mind, pressing into it over and over again, making you writhe with pleasure and repeat his name begging for this to never stop.

Your head fell backward and your jaw slacked open with a moan. He began to slowly move just in time with you, your whines, and the sight of your bouncing breasts and beautiful body bringing him closer every second.

“Frankie…” you cried out.

“It’s okay baby, I know…” he grunted your name again, “You’re doing so good.”

Your pace went up in speed and quickly you were screaming Frankie’s name as you came undone, you released his hands so you could hold your own shoulders trying not to fall backward. He held on to your hips as he fucked you through your orgasm. The feel of him through the aftershocks making you jolt with waves of pleasure.

He whispered to you how good you were doing, how beautiful you looked, how much he loved taking you.

“Fuck,” you whispered with your eyes closed, “There’s no one like you…”

He came inside you, filling you with his cum and you sighed at the warm feeling. Then he met you halfway to hug and kiss you deeply, with his cock still inside you.

Your arms snaked behind his shoulders and he held you so close to him that there was no air in between the two of you.

The kiss was one of those that read as a thank you. Thank you for being here, and thank you for making me feel good.

You pressed more kisses to his face when you separated which caused him to lightly giggle at the soft sensation.

“That priest is definitely gonna run after me,” he joked, “You should confess now before it’s too late. He could get really mad.”

Just in time, the book you had been reading came into your field of view and a particular line made its way into your brain.

“There’s no God worth worrying about. It’s all you,” you said looking into his eyes.

Funny enough, Frankie had never read a single word of any of Gabriel García Márquez’ books. But at that moment, when no specific date mattered, when no one else but you existed, when you said those words and his heart filled with adoration, he understood why people were afraid of dying.

Only God knows how much I love you.

- - -

Taglist: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @gracie7209 @greeneyedblondie44 @fiscinthirst

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales series #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales one shot #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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morallyinept · 4 months

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Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Frankie is in his early 40's, around 42/43, Jude is in her late 30's, around 37/38. Jude has mid-length hair - other than that, I've tried to keep Jude as a blank canvas in terms of ethnicity/eye & hair colour. This is so you can imagine yourself as Jude, if you'd like to. If I miss anything, please kindly let me know. Images are for aesthetic purposes only, no direct reference to Jude.

Word Count: 120K - give or take... it's novel length. 👀

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

WARNINGS/TRIGGERS: Survival/mentions & descriptions of a plane crash/death/drowning/starvation/dehydration/malnourishment/injury/sickness & illness/depression/PTSD/drug use/drug addiction/mentions of loss/sorrow/angst/brief mention of miscarriage/bleeding/blood loss/cheating spouse - I promise it's not all doom & gloom.

EXPLICIT: Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/oral both M & F receiving/hand job/masturbation - all the good stuff.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: This is a story I wrote a long time ago, and have re-edited for Frankie. It's a story I have poured a lot of love into, and probably one of my favourite things I've ever written. I really hope you enjoy Frankie & Jude's story. 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapters including smut - 🌶️ Trigger Warnings will be highlighted red, if any.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11 🌶️

CHAPTER 12 (Trigger Warning) 🌶️

CHAPTER 13 🌶️

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15 🌶️

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

EXTRAS:

Playlist

The Island

Moodboard by the amazing @sawymredfox 🖤

Frankie & Jude as SIM's characters by the wonderful @fckyeapedrothots99 🖤

Adrift Clip by the awesome @survivingandenduring 🖤

TAGGING ISSUE <- Read if you want to be tagged.

This will probably be around 30-40 chapters or so, maybe less depending how much I bulk them out. I'll add chapters as I upload. New chapters will be added on a Sunday starting mid January 2024 - Please ensure you're following me and switch on notifications so you don't miss out on this story.

MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales triple frontier #frankie morales smut #frankie morales angst #frankie morales fluff #triple frontier fic #triple frontier #adrift with you series #jett's writing

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kedsandtubesocks · 1 month

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SEASONS OF YOU : a stardew valley AU

After moving into your grandfather’s farm, you discover what awaits in the valley is more than you expected…

I can’t thank everyone enough for cheering me on & showing so much love for this strange AU of mine & feeding my Stardew obsession lol you don’t necessarily have to know/even play to read, there will be references to the game but all will be explained!

So this series will work as two different worlds / universes - one where you romance Joel & the other where you romance Frankie

You get to pick which boy & their fic you want to explore!

✧ These two will stay separate and operate independently in their own fics (think of them as two different game files) - so sorry to my babes hoping for a crossover/poly fic… maybe someday!

✧ Also, mirroring the eased & relaxed spirit of the gameplay itself, this series will be updated without a firmly set schedule and I appreciate your understanding!

I am hope we can all enjoy romancing some cute farm boys ♡

1st Year:

Joel - Spring 🌱

1st Year:

Frankie - Winter ❄️

special thanks to these special farmers for the most beautiful guidance & support: @lowlights @swiftispunk @burntheedges @ahauntedcowboy @tightjeansjavi @perotovar @chronically-ghosted @nothoughtsjustmeds

#idk what to tag this ass but yeah…stardew #farmer!joel #Joel 🤎#Joel miller fic #blacksmith!frankie #Frankie 🤎#Frankie morales fic #seasons of you fic series #pedrostories

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endlessthxxghts · 1 month

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New Beginnings [Masterlist]

Frankie’s daughter, Elena, gets enrolled into a new school for prodigal children. It’s going to be a new adjustment for Elena, but Frankie underestimates just how much life will change for him, too — especially after meeting you. | story status: in progress |

teacher!reader x student's dad!Frankie Morales

General Content/Warnings: AFAB&fem reader (she/her pronouns). Reader is able-bodied. No other physical descriptions used. Implied that reader knows some Spanish. Implied that reader is bisexual (references in passing, blink and you’ll miss it). No use of "y/n." POV switching. Lust (love..?) at first sight. Sexual tension GALORE! Semi-forbidden love trope. Single dad trope. PTA Drama, jealous moms and dads! Inherent angst (with a happy ending). Canon divergent to TF storyline. 18+ MDNI (See specific chapter for specific content).

AUTHOR’S NOTES:

SIMILAR TO AO3'S "AUTHOR CHOSE NOT TO APPLY ARCHIVE WARNINGS" - SOME CHAPTERS WILL OMIT CERTAIN WARNINGS TO SAVE ANY SPOILERS (* INDICATES WHICH CHAPTERS APPLY TO THIS).

* indicates explicit material is present

All places/school programs/locations/weather/etc. mentioned are fictional; however, they are inspired by real places that exist where I am from (Las Vegas)!

Photos do not represent reader in any way shape or form; used to give imagery/set the vibe for situations/scenarios.

MAIN MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG || (LIST BELOW CUT)

Storyline

ONE: new beginnings, 8.8k ** TWO (coming ≈May 12-18) THREE FOUR FIVE

(Total chapter count undetermined)

Extras

Want to read more like this? Check out @frenchiereading's Shared Breaths series! It contains a similar trope with you being a teacher and Frankie being your student's father. It is a must read!🫶🏼 Another very noteworthy and honorable mention where you’re a teacher (no children of Javi, at least not in the beginning😏) — @javierpena-inatacvest’s It’s Never Too Late series!! It’s for Javier Peña, but nevertheless, the SWEETEST and SEXIEST story to ever exist, and it’s written by my sweet sweet best friend. I love u to the moon and back, babe. 🌚🌝

Floral dividers courtesy of @saradika-graphics 💚

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 3 months

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Summer House

Coming sometime in 2024

Explicit 🔞 NO minors allowed

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

I tried to fight it, I really did. I was convinced that I didn't have the time or the headspace to start a fic, and I still am not entirely convinced otherwise, but this idea just won't leave me alone.

It's literally been a year since I teased this fic (I've already written a soulmates AU of it before the fic was even written lmao), and it has pivoted, so it's not exactly the same idea as it was when I first conceived it. It's 'edgier' than my other fics, we're going full in messy with this one besties (inspired by none other than my love @imaswellkid).

I can't promise when this will be written, and I don't know what form it will take or how long it will be, but I've scribbled down dialogue and scenes and they're just playing and replaying behind my eyelids when I try to go to sleep. I'm itching to get it down on metaphorical paper.

For now, a roughly edited sneak peek:

You should know better. You know you shouldn’t. Not when it’s your first time, not when his girlfriend is asleep in his bed two floors above, not to mention the rest of the guys - what they would say, what they would do if they ever find out -

But it’s Frankie. Your Frankie. Not that it matters he’s not actually yours. Not when he’s staring down at you the way he is right now, teeth catching his full bottom lip, sleep-tousled curls brushing those eyes you’d know anywhere.

#summer house series #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales imagine #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales

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pimosworld · 24 days

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Read it again- part I

I wanted to start a list of recs that I find myself going back to when I’m happy or sad or just in need of something to distract me from the crazy world we live in. This will be multiple parts so consider this the first installment. These will be old/new/current wips and fics.

Please head the warnings in each fic or series.

Triple Frontier

The devils backbone- @ezrasbirdie

Feed your ego- @whatthefishh

War makes thieves and peace hangs them- @brandyllyn

Messy Pile of Affection Series- @flightlessangelwings

The homecoming series- @astroboots

Awakening Series- @romanarose

Switch to channel 2- @autumnleaves1991-blog

My best friends girl- @tropes-and-tales

Moon Knight

Prized possession- @melodygatesauthor

Third ones the charm-(part I, part II) @missdictatorme

Egg Fried Rice- @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

The Jake problem- (part I, part II) @bensolosbluesaber

For science- @projectionistwrites

Joel Miller

Pink- @netherfeildren

The checklist- @thetriumphantpanda

Trick or Treat- @morallyinept

Meet me in the back- @atticrissfinch

Honey do- @kiwisbell

Take care of you- @theidiotwhowritesthings

Javier Peña

It’s never too late- @javierpena-inatacvest

Paranoid heart- @goodwithcheese

Late night texts- @undercoverpena

D.I.Y.- @swiftispunk

Please comment and reblog the authors works that they pour their time, heart and soul into.

Feel free to leave a comment with your favorite re-read or message me directly to include in future installments.

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missgurrl · 1 year

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Fic Recommendations

These are some of the fics that I've read that I have been left thinking about months after!

Please check these fics for trigger warnings and 18+ content at your discretion!

Joel Miller Wasteland, Baby! by "LittleR13" Plum by @thyme-in-a-bubble Letters and Sketches by "kay_erin" Never Let Me Down by "elmapache" The Wolf and the Moon by @misspearly1 Finders Keepers by @xokiwistarship Blue Jeans n Texas Dreams by @tightjeansjavi Cruel Summer by @proxima-writes

Din Djarin A Fresh Start by @theidiotwhowritesthings Ours by "tangerinefilm" Of Love and Time by @pentechics *Naboo Nuptial which is my own work

Frankie "Catfish" Morales No More by @albertasunrise Infernal Hearts by "honeymandos" In a Week by "notanotherquarantinefanfic" Near the Waters by "paisley_print" Green Mountain State by "pedro_djarin"

Javier Pena The Crush by @the-ginger-hedge-witch Not a Piece of Art by "notanotherquarantinefanfic" Maybe Today, Maybe Forever by @freedomatsea Learning to Live by @wheresarizona The Meeting Place by @absurdthirst, @wardenparker Just Dumb Enough to Try by "glitter_diety" You're my Best Friend by @autumnleaves1991-blog *Hoofprints which is my own work

*I couldn't find everyone's blogs, please let me know if I didn't tag you! And feel free to send your recs my way to add to the list.*

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penvisions · 2 months

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the melting point {chapter 17}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (exEMT! reader)

Summary: You and Frankie have some conversations about the future, but not all of them are so serious. Meanwhile, the gang are up to something....

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: medical jargon, description of injuries (not detailed), mention of surgical scarring, reader has limited mobility, reader uses a walker, reader uses a wheelchair, panic, depression, anxiety, reader is self-conscious in her body, a lot of emotions, description of female body, body modification, reader gets some new ink, and someone else too, pet names, canon typical violence, frankie loses his temper (inspired by the one gif of him yelling about killing ppl), frankie gets overwhelmed, smoking, cigarettes, consumption of nicotine, a lot of emotions!

A/N: okay, okay, i know i said i'd post this on friday but my brain decided to be not so nice to me and make me stare at the document for this chapter for hours. but, it's here and i'm happy with it. there are so many grammar errors but uploading this is the last task of the day before bed, so they’ll be fixed tomorrow

if you have the time, please take a peek at the poll for this fic

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

You feel shy.

You feel self-conscious.

You feel like it’s the first time meeting him all over again the next morning when he descends from getting dressed upstairs and greets you in the kitchen.

You had woken up early, bones aching and enough feeling to shuffle with your walker toward the miracle invention that was the coffee maker. Spacing out as you held you left hand out in front of you and took in the way the diamond he must’ve spent countless hours working to afford was nestled in the delicate gold band that fit so perfectly.

All of his working despite you being in the hospital, being comatose and then being awake but a faucet of never-ending emotions that ticked from hot to cold at a moment’s notice. It had been to provide for you, to offer you a future with him, to spend two weeks of unbothered time with you to help you navigate the new routine of your life.

You startled when his arms wrapped around your waist, his forehead resting against the back of your head, rustling the untamed strands. You felt heat bloom atop your chest and stretch over the expanse of your neck to fill your cheeks. Ducking your head, you squeaked out a small greeting, bringing your hand back to yourself and settling it over the mug of long chilled coffee.

“Everythin’ okay?”

You could only hum in response, voice lost amidst the bashful way in which you were almost afraid to turn around and face him head on. His beautiful face, crowned by chocolate curls that you could spend hours running your hands through, the endearing scruff that tried to grow in fully but never managed to tinged with sparkling silver, those wide eyes that sparked warmth the second they turned to you.

No, everything was not okay.

He was beautiful, he was handsome, he was everything you ever wanted all rolled into one package. He was yours, now, and you felt completely unworthy.

The repeat of his question was interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

Panic rose up suddenly, spurred on by the self-doubting thoughts that had been consuming you from the moment you woke up in a cold sweat. Your body tensed in his hold, his arms twitching as he felt it happen in real time. Your breathing became labored, legs twitching with the need to move, to run.

“I dunno who would be here this early…” He began to turn toward the door, hold loosening around you and allowing you to take in an attempt at a calming breath. He assured you he would be right back before your eyes followed his movement over the threshold and toward the front of the house. Without a thought for even the walking aid you had, leant up against the cabinets beside you, you pushed into motion and fled the room. Thankful for the layout of his house, you rushed on shaking legs to the safety of the guest room, hands heavy on anything that could help to stabilize you, closing the door and locking it with frantic movements. Tears of embarrassment welled up and you felt like a fool.

Anyone who would be coming to Frankie’s house was a friend or family. There was no need to feel the pricks of anxiety or panic that were spiking all over your body, beads of sweat budding on your temple and the small of your back.

Faint sounds of an easy-going conversation floated down the hall and underneath the cracks of the door.

The anticipation of them moving further into the house has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, skin prickling. You have no idea why you’re suddenly so afraid, but you are and it’s stolen the very breath from your lungs, the voice from your throat.

“Querida?” Frankie’s voice called out, confusion coloring his words as he no doubt returned to the kitchen to find you gone and your walker abandoned. The cup of coffee you had indulged in alone on the counter. His muffled steps down the hall on the plush carpet had you gripping the handle of the door despite the lock still being engaged. Emotions overwhelming as the tears began to slide down your heated cheeks. His voice called out again, closer, and your heart thudded in your chest. “Sweet girl, you back here? Pope brought us breakfast, said he was headed into the office but wanted to drop by and say hi."

Silence. Save for the halting steps right outside the door. You could swear he was able to hear the way your heart was beating hard in your chest, knocking on the inside of your ribcage in a heavy, hectic pattern.

“Mante?” Santi’s voice called from down the hall, hesitant but laced with concern. His steps were louder than Frankie’s, presence appearing on the other side of the door alongside him. “How did she even manage to get far without the walker?”

The doorknob jostled as one of them tried to open the door, shaking your already trembling arms as they realized it was locked.

Your name was spoken with caution, worry saturating the sound.

“The door’s locked, Fish.” Santi’s voice was hushed, like it was a secret you were all trying to keep each other from knowing. But it was blatant, obvious in the way that your fingers had deliberately engaged it and the hands of theirs that had tried to turn it. The handle wasn’t budging and neither was the door.

“Sweet girl…are you okay?”

“Did you get scared, carino? It’s just me, I know I stopped by unannounced, but I just wanted to see you is all.”

The answer you want to give them is a ghost on your tongue. Existing only in your mind, never given voice. The door handle jostled one more time, a heavy sigh sounding as it didn’t turn and allow them entrance into the sanctuary you had sought out. Retreating footsteps weren’t enough for you to unlock the door, but you did retreat from it and slowly move toward the bed. Pain licked at you through the aid of the pain killers you had left in the kitchen, the intention of the coffee that had been forgotten as you got lost in thought and now hidden yourself away.

A muffled conversation, the sound of the front door opening and closing, an engine turning over. Then silence.

Frankie called your name as he padded down the hall once again, an edge to his voice that hinted at his growing concern. A sniffle and a lilt of desperation punctuating in his words.

Surging up at the sound of his watered voice, you pressed your forehead to the door. You wanted to open the door and fall into his embrace, to soothe his tears and worries but you couldn’t. You felt so frozen, body unwilling to do what you bid.

“Sweet girl, just let me know you’re okay? You don’t – you don’t have to open the door, I promise. Just, I’m setting the walker next to it if you need it, okay?” Frankie’s words were soft, comforting despite the unease you were sensing through the door.

Before he could even think, his fist was slamming against the interrogation room’s mirror. The glass shook violently, giving away the audience hidden on the other side of the two-way device. The figures on the other side startled, the shooter breaking out into a wicked grin after looking toward the mirror.

“To answer your question, officer. There was no motive, she was just there, alone, an easy target to pick off until that bitch got in the way.” His words were snide, unflinching in honesty.

Another hit landed on the panel of glass.

The officer leading the interrogation leaned over to speak to the one standing guard at the inside of the door. A quick word into his walkie and the two men in the observation room were announcing that Frankie needed to step out and collect himself. Santi agreed on the angered man’s behalf, a guiding hand on Frankie’s shoulder as they moved toward and then through the door out into the hall.

“Hey, look, it’s not okay. But you gotta reign your emotions in check. We’re here to corroborate what happened, as witnesses.”

“Pope. C’mon, man, you know that hijo de puta needs to be locked up, with the heaviest sentence possible. My six-year-old daughter is having panic attacks and had to delay her entire school year. Mante wakes up every other hour, whimpering in her sleep and crying out like she’s being shot all over again It’s hard to see her that way and she can’t- she can’t even-“

A large hand scrubbed roughly at the tears of anger and frustration that began to cloud his vision.

The sound of the door to the interrogation room opening halted Santiago��s move to embrace the crumbling man. Frankie lunged, mind focused on the man being lead through the door in cuffs. Before anyone could blink, Frankie’s large frame was across the hall and pushing the smaller man up against the wall. The back of his head meeting the wall with a harsh thud. He let out a grunt at the contact, unable to shield himself or block the rage aimed at him as Frankie’s fist came down hard on his cheek.

“Frankie, primo, you gotta calm down!” Santi’s voice was harsh, tone biting to try and break through the chaos, the officers also stepping in to separate the two men before Frankie could land another hit.

“I’ve got a terrified fiancé back home who’s barricaded herself in a room and won’t even speak because of this piece of shit!” Frankie growled, rage taking over him in a way he couldn’t recall since his days running around jungles and guns an extension of his hands. An extension of himself and who he used to be. His shoulders were taut under his friend’s hands, pulling him back and holding his hands behind his back. One of the officers wrangled a pair of cuffs over Frankie’s wrists, the clink of the metal loud amid the sudden silence of the hallway. All Frankie could do was watch at the shooter was lead away, his heaving chest lightening slightly in pride at the sight of blood dripping from a cut that was in the middle of an already blooming bruise.

“Alright, now that that’s out of your system, we’re gonna have to keep you until you calm down.” When Santiago began to open his mouth to say something the officer closed his eyes and nodded his head slightly, beginning to lead a cuffed Frankie away. “We won’t press charges, but there’s no guarantee he won’t try to. We’ll vouch that it was provoked. Try to sweep it under the rug.”

“Of course, thank you.” The man moved away from Frankie to allow the officer room to undo the cuffs around his wrists. “We really appreciate you allowing us to sit in on the reading of the official charges.”

“I should be thanking you, you were the run who took him down, right?”

“Yes,” Santiago shook the man’s hand, keeping Frankie in the corner of his vision, unnerved by the violent display of his normally calm and cooperative friend. “Had my service gun on me that day, years of experience allowed me to keep an even head despite having seen my friend gunned down. And he- he’s normally so levelheaded with this type of stuff but it’s his family that was targeted. He’s allowed an outburst or two, huh, primo?”

“Well, again, thank you. Please feel free to reach out with any questions regarding the case but it’ll be fairly open and shut from here on out with his taped confession.”

“We need a weekend away.” Santiago spoke into the silence of the cab. He was in the driver’s seat, Frankie silent and stewing in the passenger side. The cloying scent of nicotine wafting from their twin cigarettes, the snick of their nails as they asked the only sound aside from the ticking of the cooling motor.

“Can’t even get her to come out of the guest room, I’ve been sleeping on the couch, hoping she at least makes her way into the kitchen, but that door’s been shut since you came over two days ago.”

“Is it still locked?” A long inhale, held on his tongue and them blown out the window between a frown, Santiago turned to his friend, emotions a hum lit up and amplified by the events of the day.

“I’ve been too worried to check. I don’t want her to feel cornered if I do and it is open.”

“She’s talked to Will a little more in depth about her past, maybe it would be good to call him over?”

“I asked her to marry me.”

The cigarette dropped from Santiago’s fingers, his curls bouncing as he tried to catch the smoldering thing before it could burn his leg. The breakdown you had on your last day in the hospital rang in his ears, the worry and anxiety you had been carrying around at the lack of physical attention from the man beside him now.

“Fish, that’s…that’s a lot. Are you sure-“

“She said yes.”

“That’s…that’s good, Fish.”

“But now she’s hidden away in that room, she’s…she’s going through so much and I just want to be there for her.”

“When you first started getting clean, you didn’t want to see any of us, remember that?”

“Because I was ashamed that it got so bad.”

“I think…even if you want to be there for her because you feel like it’s the right thing, you have to be there for her in the way that she needs right now.”

“I should call Will, he’s the one with the degree in this type of stuff.”

“Taylor too, he’s still in town, helping run the shop, right?”

“Yeah…”

“You know there’s nothing to worry about with him….right?” The question lilting from Pope was hesitant, the man unsure if he should broach the subject. He knew how these things went between people, half of a couple dealing with trauma by backpedaling into the comforts they know. He didn’t want to worry about you that way, acting on past emotions in the wake of such an event, but he did. For Frankie should that happen, for all of them should that happen. You moving out of the state and back to what you knew would cause a hole to open up in their group, a missing piece that became a part of the set.

You had brought so much with you as they folded you into their lives, a bright spot as they tried to move past the things they carried with them, that plagued them when it was too quiet.

“I’m not worried about him.” Frankie took a drag from his own cigarette, the last from the dwindled down filter between his fingers. He snubbed it out on the side of the truck before flicking it toward the asphalt of his driveway. “Talked to him a lot at the hospital, he’s…he’s just a part of her and I accept that. He helped me pick out the ring and said it would be a good time to do this, if the thought was already there and I know it’s only been six months, Pope, but…she’s – she makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.”

“She’s a good one, knew it from the moment she didn’t punch my lights out when I approached her in the gym one day. Just wanted to help correct a stance and she…she smiled so brightly at me and listened instead of waving me off.”

“She didn’t deserve this,” A hiccup forced its way through Frankie’s throat as he tried to tamp down swell of tears. He coughed, trying to rid himself of the lump in stuck in the base of it, but he couldn’t. The surge of heat that accompanied tears was all too familiar.

“No, but she’s strong. She’s got all of us to help her, she’s got a place with all of us to take her time healing and she’ll be okay. I promise you that, mi amor.” Santi reached over and pulled the shaking man into an embrace, hand curling into his hair and knocking the cap from atop his head. All Frankie could do was bury his face in his friend’s neck, tears falling as he failed to keep them at bay.

Neither man noticed the flutter of curtains in the living room window.

It was late, the only sound in the dark house was the ticking of the clock in the kitchen. Frankie had tried to sleep on the couch again, but when he woke up with a jolt of pain in his back he had retreated to his room. The third night of doing so finally getting to his ragged body. Frankie sighed as he reclined in his bed, heating pad on the highest setting below him and right on the small of his back. Sleep pulled him under, the day’s events having wiped him out.

Between Lex’s afternoon therapy, his trip to the precinct downtown, a visit to your bakery to gather the mail and a few more items with the help of Taylor. Dinner was hard, with Lex asking quietly after you, worried for you even as she struggled with her own emotions and what had happened. She wasn’t as chatty as normal, which was okay with Frankie, though he did wonder if she would be able to overcome what had happened. She was so young, it would follow her throughout her entire life in ways they didn’t know until they showed. She was already nervous in crowds, an obvious one.

It was something Frankie had tried to prevent his entire life, the exposure to violence in his personal life, but of course it found a way.

Repentance for the things he once did and the violence he inflicted himself. Guilt and the urge to do something about it weighed him down as he tried to be the best version of himself for his daughter.

He didn’t stir at the sound of the guest room below creaking open or your soft steps as you hesitantly peeked out into the short hallway.

He didn’t stir at the at the clank of your walker moving around the hardwood of the living room, nor the soft pants of your exertion.

He didn’t stir at the sound of it clattering suddenly when you lost your balance.

But at the whimpered call of his name, almost scared from your lips, he was surging up. His feet carried him swiftly through the room and down the hall, to the landing of the stairs where he could see the shadow you made as you gazed up from the bottom of them. You had tripped on the first step and he hoped you hadn’t tried to scale them.

“I-I didn’t know where you were, I thought- I’m sorry. Just go- just go back to sleep.” Your voice was shaky, a touch higher than your normal timbre.

You moved your hand from the railing where you had reached out, looking for all the world like you had been about to attempt to ascend them. He was thudding down them before the words even left you, so quiet and hesitant.

“No, no, sweet girl, please don’t apologize.”

“You weren’t on the couch…” A sniffle, followed by a scrub of your hand underneath one of your eyes.

“I was,” Frankie rushed out as he sat down on the second to last one and reached out for you. You only looked at him through the dim moonlight filtering in from the windows, blinds closed but curtains still pulled back like they were during the day.

“You went back to your room, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ You turned away, hands settling back on the bars of your walker, prepared to leave him there, just out of reach. His heart panged in tune with your own as you wouldn’t look at him directly. The shine of unshed tears in your eyes hurting him so much more because he was the cause of them.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m here.” He wrapped his fingers around your wrists, urging you to stay with him. You let him gently pull you toward him, his arms wrapping around you in a loose hug. Your hair tickled his face as he rested his forehead against your own. His own curls, wild from tossing and turning and then finally face planting crushed softly against you.

“…can you help me with a bath, please, I know it’s late….” You looked so scared, so worried about disturbing him and he mentally cursed himself for anything he may have done to make you feel such a way.

Moments later, you found yourself submerged in a steaming bath. Bubbles and Epsom salts comforting in a way you had needed. A warm washcloth was gentle on your back and shoulders as Frankie leaned down from his spot on the lip of the tub to run it over your skin. He was admiring the delicate work of the ink that decorated your shoulders and upper back. Thinking, not for the first time, that he wanted to get his daughter’s name.

“Can you…can you do me a favor?”

“Anything, sweet girl.”

“Can….can we just go back to being friends again?”

The sudden splash of the washcloth startled you, body jolting at the unexpected sound.

“Like…you want to give the ring back?” Frankie’s words were low, gruff in surprise.

“No!” You turned to face him, not liking that your poor phrasing and lack of articulation caused the man to think you didn’t want him anymore. He looked completely defeated, curls flopping over his forehead from the steam of the bath, eyes rimmed with dark circles, his facial hair a little longer and less tamed, deep crease in his forehead. You reached for his hands, just hanging from his wrists flat over the edge of the tub. Intertwining your fingers with his, you tried to explain better. “No, I very much still want to be your wife!”

A moment goes by, where he waits for the words he can see flitting across your face come to life.

“Just, everything is about the hospital, or therapy, or medication, doctor appointments. I feel more like a burden than anything right now and I just want, I just want to be with you like that again. Dumb jokes, the teasing at jumbled words, your casual touches. I want to be normal again, Frankie.”

“I-I didn’t mean to let that all fall away, I’m so sorry, mi amor.”

“You don’t touch me unless it’s to help me move around and it…that hurts Frankie.”

“I’m so worried I’m going to hurt you, that I’m going to do something wrong.” He kept his gaze locked on yours, brown eyes wide and earnest. You could feel the honesty and concern laced in his voice, he had been keeping his distance because he was scared. Seeing anyone laid up in a hospital bed was a lot, to see someone close to you? That was even worse.

You couldn’t imagine the thoughts and feelings he had been overwhelmed with for all those weeks. The thing that caused you to be there already so much. Doctors and nurses rushing you off to emergency surgeries, internal bleeding spiking, the postings of your x-rays displaying the slow progress of your broken bones. It had to have been so much for him, someone who is so caring and so willing to do anything for those in his circle. And he wasn’t able to do anything except sit beside you, hold your unmoving hand…

“I’m already broken, what could you possibly do, you think you’re really that strong?” You tried to smile, but he could see how worried you were, afraid to banter with him.

“I’m stronger ‘n you,” He brought your joined hands up to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “I’ve seen you struggle with a bag of flour how many times now?”

“That’s not fair! They’re bulky and awkward.” The smile that broke out across your lips was so bright, Frankie could feel his heart skip a beat in his chest. How could he have ever been the reason it dulled, intentional or otherwise. He mentally scolded himself for being so caught up in helping you the way he thought you needed and not the way you wanted. His friend’s words coming to the front of his mind.

“Point taken, hermosa.” He watched the way you perked up, complexion lightning and the giggle that bubbled from you made warmth bloom in his chest.

As you searched for the fallen washcloth, the movement jostled you, chest jiggling where it was exposed above the water and bubbles. Nipples perked in the shadows of the candles he had lit for the space after a mumbled comment about the overhead being too much for your eyes. He felt a different type of heat wash over him, his cock stirring half-heartedly in his boxer briefs.

“Okay, we can go back to you washing me now.” You held it out to him, but he ignored it in favor of swooping down and placing a kiss to your forehead, to your cheeks that were pulled up with more endearing giggles.

“Hey,” He pulled you closer to him, chest pressed to your warm back. No shirt had been put on, a whispered complaint about the fabric being itchy on your sensitive skin.

Your sleepy hum was the only response he got, not stirring at his quiet voice. Frankie buried his face in your hair, breathing in the scent of you deep into his lungs.

“Was thinkin”…” He pressed his lips behind your ear.

“Hmm?”

“I wanted to get Lex’s name.”

“What?” You stirred, confusion furrowing your brow. Taking a deep breath, sleep fogging your thoughts and making it hard to engage fully. The pull of your medication making it even more so. “Frankie, you’re not making any sense. Go to sleep.”

“As you wish, hermosa.” He pressed another kiss to the back of your neck, carefully tangling his legs with your own, hoping he wasn’t jostling you too much. But you didn’t huff or shift away, content in your sleeping state to let him get as close to you as he needed.

After what felt like far too long, the ebb and flow of your easy breath finally lulled him back to sleep, murmuring his love for you into your skin.

“Frankie!” Twirling in your spot in front of the coffee maker, you enthusiastically greeted the half-awake man as he entered the kitchen. It was mid-morning, the two of you having slept in a bit, stirring when Lex came into the downstairs room to ask after breakfast. You had both tried to rouse the snoring man to no avail.

You had tried to talk to her over pancakes, but she had shirked the more serious topics. You had let her talk on and on about the book she was reading, just having upped her level despite how much school she was missing. It was about jellyfish and she beamed when you showed her the blackwork piece you had on your calf.

She was far from her usual bubbly and energetic self, but she wasn’t completely shut down like Frankie had described directly following the shooting. You worried for her, truly. She was important to her and you promised her to make cupcakes later on if you could convince Frankie to run to the shop. She was in the backyard now, painting on the patio table, a sheet of protective canvas over the top of it.

“Uh…yes?” He was rubbing at his lower back, waiting for the icy hot patch he had just applied begin to work. He might need to ask for one of your pain pills but he didn’t want to take from your bottle.

“You wanna get a tattoo? Like for really real?”

He chuckled, sound deep in his chest, his voice huskier than usual as he tried to wake up. He had knocked out shortly after you, heated blanket covering you both in a makeshift nest of the blankets and pillows you needed to sleep comfortably while still healing.

“Yes, hersmosa, for really real.” The dimple in his right cheek caught the warm sunlight coming in through the window. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you felt shy again, like the man before you was too good to be true. You looked away, the sight of his tousled curls and his sweet brown eyes making you self-conscious.

“I was tryin’ to tell you last night, but someone fell asleep in their bath.”

Wide smile dimming sheepishly, you beckoned the man closer. His strong arms wrapped encased you, but he reached behind you and stole your mug from where you had just poured creamer into it. But when you didn’t move to wrap your arms around his waist, he paused.

“Pastel?”

“I-I’m fine.” You pressed your forehead to his chest, hiding away from him. His arms wrapped around you, hands cupping your hips and drawing soothing circles into the healed spots the hospital had inserted metallic pins. The only sound for a few beats was the chirping of birds out in the yard.

“You’re just….really, unbelievably handsome and I just…feel like,” You mumbled the rest of your sentence into his chest, pressing your face further into his shirt.

“You are everything,” Frankie’s chest heaved as he took a deep breath, letting it out to ruffle your hair where he places a kiss. “You are the most gorgeous woman, hermosa. I love you, I am so incredibly and absolutely in love with you. I’m lucky to have you in my life, you’ve helped me to feel more like myself than I ever have.”

You couldn’t help the small hiccup that bubbled up, his arms holding you tight.

A quick call to his mother to watch over Lex and Frankie was opening up the door to greet his mother. He helped to relieve her of the bags in her arms, saying she would make a few easy dinners to toss into the oven over the remainder of the week, to ease some of the day-to-day troubles. You moved to get up from the couch, laid up with Lex, an animated movie on the screen and two indulgent soda’s empty on the coffee table. But when you went to grip the handles of your walker, the woman clicked her tongue at you and waved you back down.

You settled back into the cushions, feeling reprimanded by the woman you had yet to officially meet.

“Sit, sit, I’ll come to you.”

Lex groaned out as you hit pause, wanting to be respectful. But at the look aimed at her from the woman, she sat up at attention much like you just had, an apologetic look overtaking her features.

“Mrs. Morales, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

She ignored you both as she moved in a flurry around a nervous Frankie, ducking into the kitchen to get a water, a damp paper towel, and the small collection of your medications and basic medical supplies contained in a small storage box with a handle. She set herself on the coffee table in front of you, handing you the water, a silent command to drink. As you did, she pulled out the thermometer, trading you the empty glass for it. Popping it into your mouth, she looked you over as she wiped at your face with the damp cloth, brushing your loose hair back.

“Such beautiful color, natural?”

You hummed an affirmative, pulling the large cardigan you had thrown on closer, hesitant to let her see even a peek of the ink decorating your body. You weren’t sure how traditional she was, Frankie answering your questions honestly. He wasn’t sure how she would feel about them and it made you self-conscious.

When the thermometer beeped, she pulled it from your mouth to inspect.

“A bit high, why don’t we take this off and get some air on you, hmm?”

“Oh, um-“ She reached out to begin pulling the cardigan from you, but you jerked, seeking out Frankie at the front of the room.

“Mijo, don’t let those groceries go bad!” She waved her hand at him, spurring him into motion. While you watched him go, she carefully helped you remove the cardigan, not even batting an eye as the tank top underneath revealed the plants mirrored on your collarbones. She smiled at you, a gentle, comforting one. As if she could sense how nervous you were. “Oh-okay, whatever you think is best, Mrs. Mor-“

“Call me Isabella, we’ll be related soon enough, but you’re sweet to be so polite to an old lady like me.”

Turning in search of Frankie, your frantic eyes met his as he came back in from the kitchen. You thought he had talked it over with his parents beforehand. She gripped your hand in her two and gazed at the culprit of the secret you hadn’t known you’d been complacent in.

“This ring on your finger told me, mi amor, because you certainly haven’t yet.” Isabella pinned her son with a stern look.

“Mama, it just happened.” Frankie sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck, knowing he had been found out in an omission of information. Having wanted to get things back on track with you a little before you told anyone.

“Just happened? You proposed the day she came home from the hospital. I know you, bebita.” Her gaze softened, only a teasing edge to it with the raise of an eyebrow.

“You’re gonna be my mom?!” Lex squealed; her small body suddenly pressed to you as she wrapped her arms around you.

“Alexia, calme, be careful with her. She’s still recovering.” Isabella wrangled the little girl off of you and settled her on the other side of the couch, with soft words and the offering of a few candies from her pocket. The movie was turned back on.

“Now, let me help you get dressed, what are you two getting up to today?” She held the walker steady with both her hands and ushered Frankie into motion. He came to stand beside you, hands helping to dig you out from the blanket that had fallen around your waist. His palms were warm around your upper arms as he grazed them close, allowing you to wrap your own around his shoulder to pull yourself up.

“We’re uh, actually going to get some errands done. Maybe some lunch, if you’re hungry, hermosa.”

His mother nodded at him, keeping close to you as she helped you down the hall.

The shop was beautiful. Flash sheets decorating the walls encased in simple frames, funky art mixed in, photos of the people who worked there. A comfortable looking curved couch and a few chairs filling the waiting space, a coffee table with art books and references, photos of pieces done on the premises.

“Hi, I was wondering if you had any time for a couple of walk ins?”

The man at the counter looked you up and down, gauging the seriousness of your question. His eyes moved to Frankie, slightly behind you as you were seated in a wheelchair. The image you created was attractive, complimentary. From Frankie’s worn in black denim, to his simple caramel sweater, aviators hung on his collar. To your simple sundress and hair up in a messy bun, majority of your tattoos on display. Skin kissed by the sun and the casual comfortability between you despite the slight nerves that could be sensed from the tall man guiding you forward.

“Depends on the ideas, but we can surely figure something out.”

You turned to look up at Frankie, gently encouraging him to tell the man about his idea. But he was nervous, unsure of sounding like an imposter when next to you. Smiling, you shifted back to face the counter.

“It’s his first time,” You carefully surged up, and Frankie rounded the chair to hover as you took slow steps up to it. “He’s just a little nervous, but weren’t we all?”

You could see the pink bloom on the tips of his ears when you teasingly winked at him.

“He would like some script, his daughter’s name. Where were you thinking of again, carino?”

“Uh,” He cleared his throat, hands ready to help support you at the slight sway of your body. “On my chest, left side.”

“How big?”

Frankie turned to you at the question, unsure of how to answer.

“No bigger than palm sized, but at least half an inch in height.”

“Gotcha, well…”

“Frankie.” He reached over the counter to shake the man’s hand in greeting.

“Well, Frankie. Any particular font?”

“I was thinking cursive, but nothing too fancy. Easy to read.”

“Okay, give me a few moments and I’ll talk to the artists. See who has the time.”

“Thank you so much.” Frankie looked around the space, taking everything in, his fingers nervously twitching at his side.

“It…doesn’t hurt right?”

“You ever get scratched by a cat?”

“Oh yeah, Rig didn’t like that I was late with his treats one afternoon. Stung like a bitch, but it didn’t really hurt.”

“It feels like that.”

Half an hour later, Frankie was shirtless and standing for the placement of his stencil. The words Alexia Sueno in blue on his left pectoral, right over his heart. The spot had been shaved bare, his bronze skin on display and glistening with the shine of the lotion to ensure it was moisturized enough.

“Placement okay for you?” The woman doing his piece asked, gloved hands holding the paper that helped apply it. He pivoted in his spot, eyes tracking the way it looked as he turned this way and that. “I can move it if you want, just want you to be happy with it.”

“No, no, it looks good!” He reassured, moving to sit in the chair she had set up while getting ready at her nod.

“Alright, now I’m sure you asked your girl how it feels and while it is different for everyone, just let me know if it’s uncomfortable or super unbearable, okay?” She scooted her own stool close, picking up her wrapped machine and clicked it on. She dipped the needles into the ink cap, rubbing more lotion into his skin. “Just keep your breath steady. Ready?”

“Ready.” Frankie nodded as he tightened his hold on your hand, wheelchair pulled up as close as the artist allowed on his right side. The needle kissed his skin, the hum deepening in pitch.

Fresh ink shining, Frankie winced when a dry paper towel was rubbed over it to clean off the excess. The man from the counter walked into the room, brandishing his personal device at you.

“Did a few small doodles, any of ‘em look good to you?”

He turned the device around, displaying simple, clean lines. There were four different depictions of a helicopter. Frankie’s hand tightened around yours, having looked up curiously from watching his own artist busy going over the script once more.

With Frankie’s piece done, second skin applied over it and his sweater back on, it was now your turn.

You were seated in your wheelchair still, but your left arm was stretched out over a cushioned and saran wrapped stand. The small empty spot just above your elbow had a stencil ready and waiting.

The hum of the gun was loud but comforting. At the first touch of the artist applying the lubricant over the stencil was like a welcome home, the needle positioned just over it.

“Ready?”

“Ready.” You chirped.

The needle kissed your skin and all your worries melted away.

You thought you spied a familiar head of steel curls over a broad back in the crowd meandering past the restaurant’s outdoor patio and you called out. Frankie startled slightly, attention on the menu in his hands. He looked up to see you frowning, eyes narrowed as you tried to focus on someone in the crowd, a hand over your eyes to block some of the sun.

Sighing, you plopped back down into your seat fully, having stood halfway to call out.

“I’m pretty sure Pope just ignored me.” You huffed, grumpily twirling the straw in your water to face you and took a sip.

“He probably didn’t hear you, you know we all have pretty damaged hearing.”

“But he can hear the sound of Will’s silent phone on group nights to tease him over Luciana?”

Frankie just chuckled at your annoyance, loving the expression in wake of everything. It was adorable, the was your brows furrowed and your glasses slid down your face as you grumbled to yourself, looking over the menu.

Across town, Pope sighed in relief, knowing that if the bags in his hands had been spotted, it would’ve been a dead giveaway. He rushed across the packed lot he had left his truck in, the downtown area too unpredictable at the most random of times. But he had wanted to talk to the owner of the space specifically, knowing it would be a better sell in person. For them to allow him to rent the space for a night…

Frankie had just closed the door behind you both, bags in one hand and leftovers from the restaurant in the other when a knock sounded. He carefully set everything down on the coffee table, making sure you were comfortable on the couch before turning his attention to the door. A man in a sharp suit was on the other side, a large envelope in his grip.

“Mr. Morales?” He had a thick drawl, his words curling as he spoke. But it was anything but warm, his tone was

“Yes, how can I help you?” Your attention was pulled to the appearance of Frankie’s mother coming down the stairs, a full laundry basket in her hands. But your head swung back to the door at the man’s next words.

“You’ve been served.”

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dividers: lovely @saradika-graphics

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ilovepedro · 3 months

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let’s get outta here, baby | frankies morales x f!reader

Valentine’s masterlist | Main masterlist | Palestine

Please take some time to go through the Palestine links. If you enjoy my writing, I ask you to help Palestine in any way you can.

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2.5k

Summary: Frankie whisks you away on Valentine’s Day for a romantic evening secluded by the water.

Warnings: established relationship, exhibitionism, oral (f!receiving), face riding, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), creampie, fluff, pet names (baby, hermosa, querida, amor) after care, reader has no description, no mention of hair type/body type/skin color, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: let’s try this again. happy frankie friday! oh how i missed my Frankie so much omg 😭 he and Javi are tied for my favorite Pedro boys tbh. i love love love him sm. anyway, i hope y’all enjoy!! as always, not beta’d - all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Translations: Te amo = I love you

Divider by @saradika-graphics

“Come on, baby. Get dressed, we have plans,” he said.

“Where are we going, Frankie? I just got comfy, plus I thought we were gonna stay in and watch a movie or a few episodes of our show?” You pout, already snuggled in on the couch, lounging in your leggings and one of Frankie’s hoodies.

“I know, but I thought we could do something else tonight. And what you’re wearing is actually perfect, just throw on some comfy shoes. I promise it’s nothing crazy. Now come on. Let’s get outta here, baby,” he says, car keys in hand as he extends a hand to you.

That was 2 hours ago, his left hand drumming on the steering wheel to the music that plays throughout the speaker, his right hand resting on your thigh, giving it an occasional squeeze.

After the two of you worked crazy hours the past week, work had finally given you a deserved day off, and it just so happened to be Valentine’s Day. Frankie opted to use his sick hours, giving you two the whole day to yourselves. You’d craved to sit at home and wait for your boyfriend to get home to enjoy a romantic evening at home with him.

Frankie had other plans it seems.

Your hand rests atop his, fiddling with his fingers as you hum along to the music. The road winds along the coast, the rind of clouds floating in the tangerine sky. reflecting off the water. Traffic was a bit heavy, but Frankie said it didn’t matter what time you two made it to the location, that it’d be open.

Pulling up to a hill, Frankie drives upwards. Your brows furrow in confusion, head snapping to gaze at your boyfriend. He pulls his hand from your thigh as he maneuvers the car up the hill, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Where are you taking me, Francisco?” You playfully question him.

“I told you, it’s a surprise, baby. You’ll see,” he says smugly. Jokingly scrutinizing him, you cross your arms and hum.

Soon enough, he pulls the car to a stop and cuts the engine. He’s parked on a cliff overlooking the coast, the waves crashing in the background. Crickets chirping and a brisk breeze blows through the air. Frankie rushes out of the car and to the trunk.

“Don’t look back here yet, querida!” He shouts. He’d told you the same thing before you’d left, covering your eyes as he helped you in the truck and blocking off the backseat with some blankets. You hear Frankie grunting and shuffling around the trunk, smiling softly to yourself at the thought of him all flustered.

“Need any help, baby?” You yell over the commotion. You’re met with a few more grunts and can feel Frankie crawling in the trunk.

What the hell is he doing?

Popping up in your peripheral, you jump slightly as he stands there - his cheeks flushed as he takes off his cap and runs a hand through his hair before putting it back on.

“Come on, querida,” he says, his hand extended awaiting your grasp. A suspicious smirk tugs at your lips, brows scrunched in question. He leads you to the rear of the truck, the trunk door open. Pillows and blankets strewn about the truck bed, a cooler and his laptop lay on the floor.

Gasping at the sight in front of you, tears spring in your eyes. You whirl around, hands still entwined as a cheek-splitting smile crinkles your face.

“Frankie. You did all this for me?” You ask quietly, Frankie mirroring your smile.

“Of course, querida. I know we said no gifts this year and we wanted to stay in with work being hectic for both of us, but you still deserve something.” His voice growing hushed and timid, his free hand fidgeting as his neck flushes red. Smiling even bigger, you throw your arms around his broad shoulders, looping them around his neck and crash your lips onto his. Frankie cups your cheeks as you two smile into each other, soft laughter bubbling from both of you.

“You are the sweetest man alive, Francisco Morales,” you whisper, disconnecting from him. His cheeks flush with heat. “I don’t know about all that, querida,” he rasps against your lips, grinning bashfully.

“You are, Frankie. This is perfect. Thank you for this, amor - for loving me. I love you,” you utter sweetly, threading your fingers through his curls and giving his head an affectionate, gentle scratch.

“No need to thank me, baby. Loving you is the best decision I’ve ever made. I love you - so much, hermosa,” he affirms, his voice growing huskier. He stealthily sneaks his hands down your back, resting them on the globes of your ass. He leans in, capturing your lips in another tender kiss.

The tenderness doesn’t last long though as the kiss blossoms into something hungrier, thick with lust. Frankie walks you backwards towards the truck bed, carefully helping you inside.

Only breaking for air to scoot back and settle into the makeshift mattress. He slowly settles you on your back against the plush padding of the blankets and pillows. Yanking him down for another hungry kiss, moans and sighs grow louder. The area is so secluded, no one is around to hear.

He slides his tongue into your mouth, tongues entangled and teeth clashing together. Moaning into him, he brings his rough, warm hands to cup your cheeks, sucking your bottom lip in between his teeth.

“Frankie,” you moan softly, parting from his lips, panting. Frankie suckles on your neck, moving his way to nip at your jaw. Kissing his way down your body, you moan quietly when he presses a kiss above your clothed mound.

“Can I take these off, hermosa?” He asks softly, toying with the hem of your leggings. You nod, whimpering as he slides them off, not wasting a second. Peppering kisses along your bare thighs, you squirm beneath him - desperate for his mouth.

“Need to taste you, baby,” he rasps, kissing your mound before slipping off your panties, tossing them to the side to join your leggings. You lift your hips, aiding him in the process and lay back down as he licks his lips. Eyes blown black and wild, eager and hungry for you. The feel of his lips against your bare sex earns him a whine, a desperate plea for more.

“I got you, querida,” he grits, diving in and licking a long, languid stripe between your folds, moaning into you as he savors the sweet, salty tang of your slick. Moaning at the feeling of his hot mouth on your aching core, you tug on his soft curls. Frankie grunts into you, always loving the way you grip his hair, holding onto him for purchase as he unravels you.

A wanton moan tumbles from your lips, slick endlessly streaming from your weeping cunt as Frankie slurps up every droplet. Your back arching further into the air as your head sinks deeper into the plush mountain of pillows and blankets on the truck bed.

“So fucking good, Frankie, fuck, yes, baby." Your moans bloom into a cry as Frankie abruptly stops, pulling away and sitting up. His cheeks sticky with your nectar, and his eyes black and wild - vehement. He sits up against the pillows, bringing you to sit up with him.

“Wh-what? No, Frankie, please why’d you st-,” you whine, until Frankie cuts you off with his rough grasp. He drags you up his chest, leaving a trail of slick on his belly and broad chest, before coming face-to-face with your dripping cunt - groaning at the sight of your swollen clit. Without a word, he forces you to sit on his face, his strong nose nudging at your clit as his tongue prods in and out of your entrance.

Sucking in a sharp gasp, you clutch his curls, the new position throwing you off-kilter. Gasps morph into uncontrollable moans as he grips your thighs tightly, your hips rocking into his face. His tongue flicks your precious pearl swirling frantic circles around your clit before wrapping his lips around your swollen bud.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god, Frankie,” you keen, your orgasm rapidly approaching - taunting you on a precipice that’s just within reach. Frankie moaning below you, the vibrations sending jolts of electricity throughout your entire body.

You glance down with glazed eyes, catching a glimpse of him drunk off your pussy. Eyes shut in bliss, cheeks flushed and shiny, his scruff burning your thighs, curls disheveled as he moans while working his skillful tongue. It pushes you further to the edge, wailing above him as you cant your hips harder into his face.

“Yes, yes, yes, Frankie! Oh fuck, Frankie! I’m gonna come, I’m gonna - oh fuck!”

Twitching and writhing above him, he releases your clit from his lips and licks another long stripe through your folds before relentlessly flicking at your precious swollen bud again.

“Frankie, oh fuck! Frankie, Frankie, Frankie!”

You crumble, your body nearly folding in on itself as your orgasm sets your body aflame, rutting your hips into your boyfriend’s face. Screaming his name as you ride out your orgasm. Your heartbeat thrumming in your ears like the waves crashing in the ocean nearby.

As the rush of your orgasm slows, Frankie wastes no time to slide you off his face, licking his lips and eyes wide and feral. Your legs tremble as he settles you atop his stomach. The trail of hair brushing against your sensitive clit, hissing at the sensation.

Frankie grunts with his bottom lip sucked in between his teeth as he hastily fiddles with his belt, unbuttoning his jeans and yanking his briefs and pants down in one go.

“Need to be inside you, querida,” he grits. You love seeing him so needy, desperate - so wild. He drags you down his stomach, his weeping cock brushes against your folds - guttural moans bouncing off the confines of the truck. He lifts your hips slightly, just enough to slide you down on his cock. Your mouth agape in a perfect O as you slowly sink onto his heavy, hard length. Filling you to the brim, fluttering around him as he twitches inside of you.

“Frankie, s-so full,” you whisper, voice pitchy and desperate. He groans as you clench around him.

“Fuck, don’t do that, hermosa. Or else this’ll end before it starts.”

He slowly grinds his hips, pushing his cock deeper into you. Shuddering as he feels impossibly deep, taking him is never an easy feat, but the reward is priceless. The stretch aches deliciously as he splits you open.

You slowly grind your hips into his, meeting him with his thrusts. Moans stream from your lips, an endless river of Frankie Frankie Frankie. Your orgasm cresting, the sensitivity still prevalent from the one he gave you just minutes ago. Lifting off him with what little strength you have, you slam your hips back down onto him.

The stretch of his cock makes your eyes roll to the back of your head as you sink back down onto him. He hits that spot just right as he fucks up into you.

“Sweetest fucking pussy ever. Mine, it's all mine, huh, querida? Who does this pussy belong to?” He grits, his hips canting upwards, thrusts growing sloppier every time.

“Y-yours, Frankie! 'S all yours, I'm all yours,” you slur, vision growing spotty.

“‘S right, baby. You're mine. All fucking mine," he moans, his cock punching your g-spot hard, wailing at the feel of him.

“Frankie! Oh god, Frankie,” you keen, bracing yourself on his clothed chest as he fucks you as if his life depends on it.

“Come on, querida. Come for me, you’re so close. Squeezing me so goddamn tight. Let go, baby. Soak my cock, baby, need you to soak my cock, querida,” he babbles, fighting off his own orgasm as you reach the top of yours.

His words send you crashing into your second orgasm, screaming as he fucks you through it. His own resolve crumbles as he watches you squirm and feels you squeeze around him.

Your hearing muffled as your orgasm drags you under the waves, you hear Frankie shout strings of profanities as you feel his cum coat your fluttering walls. The two of you ride out your highs together.

Your vision hazy, covered in a thick fog of bliss as you float back to the surface of reality from the waves of your orgasm. You collapse on his chest, the two of you full clothed, save for your bottoms. Laying on him for a moment, silence hangs in the cool air as you two catch your breath.

He traces patterns on your lower back, huffing as he regains control of himself. His rapid heartbeat returns to a steady thrum, calming your senses. Sex and sweat coats your bodies and the air in the trunk.

Carefully flipping you onto your back, he slips out of you slowly, hissing in tandem at the loss. He grabs one of the extra blankets he packed from the floor and wipes off the combination of his cum and your slick between your thighs. He cleans himself up before tossing the blanket on the floor behind the passenger seat.

Sitting up, you slide your leggings back on, forgoing your panties. Frankie tosses his belt off to the side and pulls his jeans up, leaving the button undone.

“You okay, baby?” He asks, sitting beside you.

Always a gentleman, always checking in with you.

Bringing a hand to his cheek, you smile at him with heavy eyes.

“I’m good, baby. Thank you,” you whisper. He smiles, placing a tender kiss on your palm before he lays beside you.

“I am a little hungry now though. You didn’t tell me we’d be on the road for so long and doing strenuous activities,” you joke. His chest rumbles while he chuckles heartily.

“I didn’t expect to be doing any strenuous activities either… well, at least not so soon into our date.”

“At least wine and dine me first, Morales,” you giggle. He nips at your neck, your giggles blossoming into a belly laugh.

“Come on, amor. Let’s eat. Gotta make sure my girl is ready for round two when we get home,” he says with a wink. He sits up, pulling you up with him. You rearrange the padding and pull up a movie on his laptop as he digs for something in the cooler.

He pulls out two beers, his toothy grin making you smile. Cracking open two beers, he hands you one and settles back on the fort. He throws a blanket over you two as you snuggle into his side, clinking your bottles together in a silent toast, grinning from ear to ear.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, hermosa. Te amo, baby,” Frankie rasps against your head, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline. Gazing up at him, eyelids droopy with love and admiration. You capture his lips in a sweet, chaste kiss as he pulls you in closer, squeezing you tight.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, mi amor. Te amo también.”

tag list: @honeyedmiller @gracieheartspedro @nostalxgic @harriedandharassed @loliwrites @pedrostories

#happy frankie friday #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankies morales x female reader #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #frankie triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales smut #ilovepedro valentine’s day series

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josephquinnswhore · 1 year

Text

PEDRO PASCAL Masterlist

Fluff: ☁︎ Hurt/comfort: ❀ Angst: 𖤐 Requested: 𐦍 Smut: ☾

Pedro Pascal:

• cancel culture - people have a lot of nasty things to say regarding the age gap in your relationship. ❀

• relapse - you’re a recovering alcoholic, Pedro sends you spiralling and to your demise. 𖤐︎

• baby, baby! - you’re pregnant with twins and find out halfway through your pregnancy. ☁︎

• don’t listen - Twitter is a brutal place when you post about the lgbtqi community. ☁︎ ❀

• cause for celebration - Pedro’s first Oscar Award show was a success. 𐦍 ☁︎

• settling in - buying your dream home for your family before you give birth to your baby. ☁︎ 𐦍

• finding our way back - after being broken up for two years; you and Pedro rekindle your relationship. ☁︎ 𐦍

• breaking point - in the paparazzi’s frenzy, you’re hurt and Pedro looses his shit. ☁︎ 𐦍

• polaroid - Oscar and Charlie are checking out an intimate photo of you and Pedro gets jealous. ☁︎ ☾ 𐦍

• his girl - unknown feelings between you and Pedro is admitted after some sexual tension. 𐦍

• accidents happen - you’re badly hurt during a stunt in a scene with Pedro. ❀ ☁︎ 𐦍

• family funtime- you’re Pedro’s girlfriend and meet the cast of the last of us. ☁︎ 𐦍

• content - after a hard week you and Pedro have a lazy day. ☁︎ 𐦍

• i’ve got you - pedro takes care of you on your period. ☁︎ 𐦍

• his voice - Pedro is hurt on the set of tlou. ☁︎

• the actor and the artist - the paparazzi make you wonder if you’re good enough for Pedro as a young upcoming artist. ☁︎

• i’ll wait for love - you’re in a bad relationship when you meet Pedro properly. What happens when you’ve healed and are available? ❀ ☁︎ 𐦍 ☠︎︎

Joel Miller: (the last of us)

• all for love - you and Joel aren’t seeing eye to eye, when he opens up he shows you how much he loves you. ☾ ☁︎ ❀

• I’ll be there for you - you’ve become Joel’s soft spot, reminding him of Sarah. ☁︎ ❀

• girl dad - Joel comes to terms with his new reality, finding it hard to accept Ellie isn’t his only daughter. 𖤐

• vanilla - you use your safe word but Joel doesn’t hear. ☾ ☁︎ ❀ ☠︎︎

• bittersweet - part 2 to “vanilla.” ☁︎ ❀ 𐦍

• a mothers strength - you and Joel’s daughter aren’t where he left you, when he finds your house empty, he begins to panic. ☁︎ ❀ 𐦍

• all it takes - you’re attacked by a clicker and it forces Joel to admit his feelings for you. ❀

• her sanctuary - Joel notices you pulling away from him and works hard to fix it. ❀

• little mouse - a mysterious biker saves you when you’re in peril. (a collab with @katiexpunk) ☾

• red wine & reparation - you and Joel are coparenting, but still secretly love each other. ☾

Ellie Williams: (the last of us)

• can(t) do casual - you break the one rule of yours and Ellie’s arrangement; don’t get attached. ☁︎ ❀

Javier Peña: (narcos)

• saviour - you’re captured by Pablo Escobars men as a wager against Javier. ❀

• confessions - you’ve fallen for notorious womaniser Javier Peña, a bad date leads him to confess his true intentions. ☁︎ ❀

Frankie Morales: (triple frontier)

• baby blues - frankie realises just how much you’re struggling with your newborn baby and vows to be better. ❀

MULTI-PART SERIES FICS:

Din Djarin: (the mandalorian)

• walls come tumbling down - you and the infamous Mandalorian go through a series of events that either bring you closer or seperate you. (completed series) ☾ ☁︎ ❀

Oberyn Martell: (game of thrones)

• eternal destiny - reader meets a handsome man at the markets, her destiny set for her once she receives her mark. Join her as she finds her soulmate and they embark on their journey. (ongoing series) ☾ ☁︎ ❀

Dave York: (equaliser 2)

• thirteen days - everyday, you live a life of normalcy; children, a loving fiancé, and an incredible home. Nothing exciting ever happened; until you’re dragged into Dave’s personal business. You’re being held for ransom until Dave is held accountable for his actions; he has 13 days to save you. (Ongoing series.) ❀ 𖤐☁︎

CHARACTERS COMING SOON:

• Jack Daniels “Agent Whiskey” (Kingsmen: the golden circle)

• Javi Gutierrez (the unbearable weight of massive talent)

• Ezra (prospect)

divider was made by @saradika

header & warning made by @cool-iguana

#Pedro pascal #Masterlist #josephquinnswhore #din djarin #Javier Peña #joel miller #Oberyn Martell #Frankie morales #fic x reader #series x reader #din djarin series #Oberyn Martell series

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morallyinept · 4 days

Text

Veneration - A Frankie Morales x Deaf F!Reader One Shot

Written as part of my B O D I E S Series 🤎

BODIES MASTERLIST

Summary: Living in a world with no sound, you meet an incredible man who is able to communicate with you on a deeper level, transcending spoken words.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Deaf F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader in terms of ethnicity, Reader does have hair. Reader is deaf and only has one functional ear.)

Word Count: 6.6k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️ “It's the emergence, of."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

Triggers & Warnings: Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M & F receiving/fingering/Reader is deaf and only has one functional ear/mentions of scars/alcohol consumption/burly men fighting in a ring for sport.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: It's important to me that all types of readers are represented in my work, therefore this collection of stories is written for readers with REAL bodies. However, anyone can enjoy them. Whilst this story may not specifically represent your own personal journey, it is my hope that it resonates and offers comfort and enjoyment. The condition/disability mentioned in this story is not 'one size fits all' - everyone's journey is personal and unique, and I have undertaken as much research as I can to write accurately and respectfully. 🤎

MAIN MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

The sultry night air of the Floridian dusk hangs swampy over the bustling streets, thick with the scent of saltwater and sunscreen as you and your rag-tag bunch of friends amble your way towards the local arena.

The palm-fringed boulevards are slowly dyed in pastel pinks and golden hues from the setting sun as you navigate through the gritty streets and wayward bodies, their conversations echoing off the walls around you like shards of shattered glass.

Each fragment carries a piece of the shrapnel cacophony that threatens to pierce through the fragile barrier of your senses. The discordant strains of country music from a nearby honky-tonk drifts through the crackled air as you pass, their twangy melodies a familiar backdrop to the rhythm of everyday life in Fort Walton Beach.

You catch jarred snippets of conversation as you struggle to keep pace, the incessant buzzing in your ear like a droning hornet where your aid is kicking up a stink; the constant hum of static and feedback grates on your nerves like sandpaper rubbed furiously against your ear canal.

It’s been doing this for a while and you really should get a new one, chastising yourself for your put off till tomorrow mantra. The aid emits a disconcerting array of noises as it’s been slowly malfunctioning, enduring weeks of pitchy screeches and low humming din.

It started with a subtle crackling, like the static of a radio searching for a signal between undecided stations. Then accompanied by intermittent bursts of high-pitched metallic screams, akin to feedback from a microphone placed too close to a speaker.

Occasionally, you’ll hear distorted fuzzes of conversation or ambient sounds either unbearably loud, or warped and muffled as if heard underwater. These fragmented noises only add to your frustration, teasing you with glimpses of the auditory world that lies just beyond your reach without your trusty hearing aid.

As the malfunction worsens, the noises grow more erratic and pronounced, escalating into a chaotic riot of glitches and distortions. It’s as if your hearing aid is rebelling like a stroppy teenager and plunging you into a whirlwind of loud and jarring sounds that make you physically jump.

You wince as the noise grows louder, accompanied by unpredictable bursts of high-pitched squeals that bore into your skull down to the frayed nerves of your teeth.

"Is everything okay?" One of your friends asks, concern evident in their hazy voice as they throw you a glance over their shoulder.

Or at least you assume that’s what they say, on the account of the incessant squealing going on inside your only ear canal.

You force a smile, trying to push aside the discomfort. "Just a little pitchy," you reply, using your hands to convey the words as you sound them out, barely able to hear your voice and hoping to downplay the severity of the situation.

But if anything you’re expecting it to get worse, especially in the arena. The prospect of navigating the crowds in there with your errant device fills you with frenetic dread.

You would’ve preferred to have been sequestered away this evening, curled around a book and a nice glass of wine, slobbing it out in comfy sweats. Instead your friends have rail-roaded you into an impromptu night out, snatching up tickets to an MMA fight. Something you have no interest in whatsoever.

However the constant peer pressure in the group chat had forced you - seemingly at gunpoint - to embark on this manic adventure into uncharted territory of brawny muscle and sweat.

It's going to be so much fun! They’d exclaimed, their eyes shining with anticipation, and you feigned an enthused nod back when they’d picked you up.

They’re not bad people, you love that they want to include you so much, even if it can be mildly suffocating at times. But occasionally, your friends can make assumptions about your abilities that leave you feeling frustrated and misunderstood.

Born with only one functional ear, you’ve never known the stereo sound that most people take for granted. Instead, you navigate the world with one - the other not formed in the womb and blessing you with a little fleshy nubbin in place of a full ear, that your mom still to this day calls cute, even though you’re a fully grown ass woman - and relying on your other senses to fill the void left by your deafness.

Why don't you just turn up your hearing aid? They’ll ask, not realising that your device can't "fix" your deafness entirely, or that it often struggles to filter out loud background noise. There’s no happy medium - you either hear far too much or not enough with it.

You strain to follow their conversations amidst the cacophony of voices and background sounds bleeding in at the best of times. But despite your efforts, you’re often struggling to keep up, and it creates a sense of frustration building inside you.

Your friends can often forget to speak clearly, or to face you directly when speaking, making it difficult for you to follow along if you can't lip read. And though you know that your scatterbrain chums love you dearly, there are moments when their lack of awareness about accessibility leaves you feeling isolated and unseen.

Despite these challenges, you cherish your friendships deeply. You know that their intentions are always rooted in love and kindness, even if they sometimes fall short of understanding the unique experiences and needs associated with your deafness.

And venues with loud noises are probably the worst places they drag you to.

You know all too well the challenges that await you in environments like nightclubs - throbbing music, flashing lights, and crowded dance floors - all of which threaten to overload your already strained senses. More often than not, you go along anyway despite your reservations, not wanting to dampen their spirits or, more importantly, feel left out.

But moments like those are a stark reminder of the invisible barriers you face as someone living with hearing loss. Trying to steer the world around you, there are times when the overwhelming sensory input threatens to engulf you entirely, leaving you feeling alone in a crowd of well-meaning friends.

Your journey with hearing loss hasn't just impacted your friendships - it’s also left its mark on your romantic encounters. Over the years, you’ve experienced your fair share of heartaches as you've traversed the complexities of love and intimacy. Encountered many partners who struggled to understand the daily realities of living with hearing loss. Some were well-meaning but clueless, their attempts at communication often falling flat as they failed to grasp the nuances of your unique experiences.

Others were less understanding, their impatience and frustration bubbling to the surface whenever you struggled to hear or communicate effectively. And you’d endured countless arguments and misunderstandings, your self-esteem taking a hit with each passing day as you wondered if you’d ever find someone who truly accepted you for who you are.

But despite the setbacks and disappointments, you refuse to give up hope. The right person will come along. At some point.

As you reach the entrance to the moderately local and small arena, your patience reaches its breaking point as a loud, shrill screech rips through your ear making you audibly grumble.

Crowds of enthusiastic spectators, dressed in an array of attire, ranging from casual jeans to flashy sequined dresses, stream towards the entrance, their excitement palpable in the air. Inside, the atmosphere crackles with anticipation and mingles with the faint scent of sweat and spilled beer.

The walls are adorned with posters advertising past events, their colours faded with age, but their messages still bold and enticing. The floor is scuffed and worn from years of use and mildly sticky under the soles of your sneakers.

At the centre of it all stands the ring, bathed in a chalky spotlight that illuminates the weathered canvas like a stage awaiting its performers. Despite its moderate size, the arena is filled to the brim with eager fight fans, their voices rising in anticipation as they await the evening's main grapple event.

Your friends scatter, some heading for the bar, others pulling you with them further into the crowd as it grows. As the arena lights dim, casting shadows across the sea of faces around you, two fighters emerge from opposite corners of the ring, their presence commanding attention.

And it’s at this moment your aid decides to completely flip out as you clutch your head in searing pain.

With little choice and a swift motion, you reach in and pluck the offending device from your ear, relief flooding through you as the noise abruptly ceases. In the absence of the chaotic glitches and distortions, your ear strains to detect even the faintest whisper of sound.

The world around you seems to lose its shape and form, dissolving into a hazy blur of muted colours and indistinct shapes. The perpetual silence that now greets you is jarring and disorienting, encountering a profound emptiness, a void where once there had been a relentless assault on your senses, now reduced to a fuzzed quiet.

Despite the presence of people milling about around you, you suddenly feel utterly alone, trapped in a silent prison of your own making.

With each passing moment, your perception of the world shifts, shrinking away from you almost, your other senses recalibrating to the newfound peace that envelops you.

Your friend nudges you and points to the ring, mouthing words at you that you can’t read from their lips in the dark shadows, or hear. So you shrug and point to your broken aid in your fingers, and they pout sympathetically at you, turning their gaze back to the ring, leaving you somewhat bereft.

With little else to do, you watch the fight full of disdain. The first fighter, a towering figure with muscles rippling beneath his skin, exudes confidence with every step.

His jaw is set in determination, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on his opponent and honey hair slicked back. Your friend nudges you again, silently giggling and you assume it’s because she thinks he’s attractive and you roll your eyes with a lazy smirk.

With lightning-fast reflexes, the fighter launches himself forward, unleashing a flurry of punches aimed at his opponent's defences. His fists move like pistons, each strike packed with raw power and precision and it makes you wince.

The atmosphere reaches a fever pitch, the crowd erupting into silent cheers and applause around you with each punch exchanged between the combatants.

You find yourself swept up in the spectacle, eyes fixed on the action unfolding before you and imagining how bad those punches must sound. You can feel the energy of the crowd pulsating through you, a primal rhythm that resonates on a visceral level as you glance about at focused faces pulled back into enthusiastic snarls and fists pumping the air.

You reach for your purse slung across your shoulder, intending to stow the broken hearing aid away until you can have it replaced.

But just as you’re about to tuck it safely inside, a sudden jolt sends you stumbling forward, your fingers losing their grip on the fragile device.

Time seems to slow as you watch in horror as the hearing aid slips from your grasp, tumbling down into a dark sea of denim clad legs.

No!

Desperately, you reach out to grab the falling device, but it’s too late. Your hearing aid lands on the hard floor, disappearing amidst the crowd of stamping spectators.

Heart pounding, you push your way through, frantically searching for any sign of it. But amidst the chaos and darkness of the arena, it’s impossible to spot.

You turn to get your friends' attention but they're not there, realising you’ve been swept further into the crowd and closer to the ring as it surges. You can’t spot their faces so obviously and it starts to panic you.

Fighting your way through towards a gap, you feel a soft tap on your shoulder and turn abruptly to see a man standing before you.

He’s holding out the broken aid in what seems to be a gigantic palm, with a sympathetic expression.

The silence suddenly becomes deafening, save for the gentle thudding felt in your chest.

With rugged tan features softened by a warm smile, his face is lined with bronzed skin and a dusting of stubble across his jawline that’s greying in patches.

A well-groomed moustache adorns his upper lip. Beneath a worn, navy baseball cap, tufts of brown curls peek out, framing his face in a halo of unruly waves.

His eyes, a piercing dark brown, sparkle with a hint of mischief behind the steely gaze.

With a mixture of relief and trepidation, you accept the aid, your fingers trembling as you inspect the damage. The casing is cracked, the delicate components exposed to the harsh arena lights as they strobe.

Before you can try to communicate your thanks, the man’s hands move with a fluid grace as he offers his assistance.

“Are you okay?” He signs to you, his eyes full of concern.

You raise your eyebrows back with a stunned look. With a shaky smile and nodding, you sign back, “thank you.”

The man's eyes remain fixed on you as you finally tuck the aid into your purse for safekeeping and then sigh in defeat, noting his expression is one of genuine concern.

He signs again, his hands moving with confidence through the air. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

You keep his gaze with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "I don't think so." You sign back, your hands moving hesitantly as you try to convey your frustration. "It's broken."

"I'm sorry it got damaged." He signs.

Despite your immense disappointment, you can't help but feel a sense of warmth towards the stranger who’s come to your assistance.

"Thank you for finding it, I really appreciate it," you sign, your hands moving with more confidence.

A smile tugs at the corners of the man's lips as he signs back. "Of course. I'm glad I could." His eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief as he adds, "can I buy you a drink to make up for the disappointment at least?"

Your heart skips a beat at the unexpected offer. You hesitate for a moment, throwing a glance over your shoulder for one last look for your friends, before nodding, a shy smile playing at your lips.

"Sure. I'd like that," your hands betray your nervousness as they dance through the air.

He leads you through the crowd, throwing a smile back over his shoulder as you follow him to the bar.

“Do you drink beer?” He asks with his fingers shaping into words.

“A beer would be great.” You nod.

You watch as he leans in over the bar to the tender and fishes his wallet out from his back pocket. Your eyes take to wandering over his broad frame swathed in a mustard corded jacket and long legs in scuffed denim. He offers you a red plastic cup and you thank him.

“Are you deaf, too?” You tentatively ask him.

He shakes his head and his expression softens as he responds, “I learned ASL in the military.”

“Oh, the army?”

“Yeah. Or I was. Retired now.”

You smile. “Were you based at Eglin?”

“Yeah, sometimes. More away than at home though.” He nods over to the ring as the two guys are still going at it and signs some more. "Are you enjoying the fight?"

“My friends dragged me out. It’s not really my thing.” You sign with a crooked chuckle.

He nods, smiling. “Yeah, me either. My friend is in the fight. The one in blue. His brother coaches him, we were all in the army together. Show of camaraderie, I guess. I dunno, I’ve seen enough violence.” He shrugs and then sips his beer.

His eyes dart towards the ring and then back at you where he smiles again. You can feel yourself warming all over, captivated by the man before you, drawn to the quiet strength and undeniable charisma that seems to emanate from every fibre of his being.

He exudes an effortless coolness that belies his military background, while his easy demeanour suggests a man comfortable in his own skin.

But it’s his smile that truly sets him apart, a crooked grin that lights up his face as you both peep and gaze curiously at one another. There's a sincerity to his expression that draws you in, a sense of kindness around a prominent hooked nose, and compassion that transcends the rugged exterior.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, my name’s Francisco.” He signs.

“Nice to meet you.” You introduce yourself back and he smiles at your name.

“My friends call me Frankie. Or Catfish.” He spells out with thick fingers.

“Catfish? Do I even want to know?” You query.

“Callsign, mostly.” He smirks with glittery eyes. “Do you have anyone that can fix your aid?”

You shrug. “I’ve been meaning to get a new one. Might finally force me to now.”

He nods as he sups at his beer, wet pink lips shining at you as he licks foam from them.

Your breath catches in your throat, coming in shallow gasps as you struggle to compose yourself in the presence of this captivating man who won’t stop looking at you.

“Will your friends be missing you?” You enquire, swallowing through a dry throat no matter how much cool beer you gulp down.

He shakes his head, reaching an arm up to scratch idly at the back of it as he repositions his cap.

“No. Too busy with Benny.” He nods over to the ring. “Will yours be missing you?”

“Probably not.” you sign dismally, aware that you can see them now in the crowd and they're all enthralled in the fight, completely unaware you’re missing.

“Good. Then we can have another drink together.” Frankie signs smiling, and you nod eagerly, feeling dizzy with tingly anticipation.

As the fights unfold in the ring, you and Frankie find yourselves drawn together for most of the night at the bar, engaged in silent conversation and signing with an ease that colours your recent acquaintance vividly.

With each swift and confident exchange, you delve deeper into your experience of navigating a world you can’t hear most of the time.

You learn that Frankie is completely fluent in American Sign Language, due to his time in a division in the army he calls Delta Force, explaining it was crucial for missions where he had to be completely silent, while Frankie discovers that you’ve been deaf since birth.

You talk about music and favourite bands, leaning into the commonality of being Fleetwood Mac aficionados. You both love dogs and loathe cats, and he doesn’t have children, but has a nephew he adores like his own, and shows you a goofy picture of the two of them pulling faces as his phone lock screen.

Despite the intensity of the fight unfolding before you, you’re both immersed in your own shared bubble, the fluid movements of your hands and smiles a stark contrast to the roar of the crowd around you both.

And you find that neither of you can stop smiling at one another. When Frankie smiles at you, it's like a burst of warmth illuminating the dimly lit arena like a solar flare. His eyes, alight with genuine kindness, crinkle at the corners into layered crow’s feet as his lips curve into a gentle, yet enticing arc.

And you feel a connection blooming between you as you discover common ground, unlike any you’ve experienced before. He makes you laugh, you feel it from the depths of your belly as it vibrates at the back of your throat.

He winks as he smirks at you, his dark chocolaty eyes linger on yours over the rim of his red plastic cup, that seems so tiny in his giant hands. He’s felt gently on your lower back, palm guiding you in closer to him to avoid getting knocked into by over-zealous patrons, and he smells so amazing up close.

The enticing scent of cloves and leather, like stepping into a well worn, yet loved jacket. Something spicy lingers under it, tickling your nose with its warm sweetness.

Your friends eventually find you at the bar as the lights come up a little later, and one realises you haven't got your aid in when you sign to greet them.

“Are you ready to leave?” They sign back to you and you turn towards Frankie hesitantly to say your farewell.

“Actually, if you want, we could go get a bite to eat? I could drop you home later?” He suggests to you with adept hands, much to your friends’ surprise as they observe the both of you communicating in ASL quickly and confidently.

Smiling, and wanting nothing more than to spend more time with him too, you nod at him before turning to your friends.

“I’m gonna stay with Frankie for a bit. You guys go on ahead. Talk to you later.” You sign to them.

“Get it, girl.” One of them mouths and you smirk, hoping he doesn’t lip read too.

Together, you both decide to head to a nearby burger joint, drawn in by the promise of hearty comfort food and casual ambiance.

And Frankie reaches for your hand, entwining your fingers in his through the crowds as the arena empties, and doesn’t actually let go until you’re sliding into the booth opposite him in the diner.

Your pulse quickens beneath your skin, thrumming in time with the rapid beat of your heart as you find yourself drawn inexorably closer to the explicitly gorgeous man before you.

Finding a cosy setting near the window, you both settle in, your silent conversation flowing effortlessly as you peruse the menu; the scent of sizzling beef and toasted buns wafting through the air.

Your mouth waters at the thought of sinking your teeth into a juicy burger piled high with all the fixings, while Frankie's eyes light up at the prospect of indulging in some chilli cheese fries on the side to share.

As Frankie places the order with the waitress, you find yourself feeling more relaxed and at ease than you have in a long time. There's something comforting about the simple pleasure of sharing a meal with a new friend, the warmth of your connection filling the air alongside the aroma of freshly cooked cow.

His easy laughter and genuine warmth, coupled with the ability to engage with you confidently in ASL, makes him seem like the perfect companion, someone who understands you in a way that few others do.

He’s insanely attractive too, older and wiser, the grey in his beard indicating he might be in his mid-forties, a small swell of his tummy overhangs his jeans straining against the grey t-shirt underneath, as he sits back in the booth regarding you with a smile as you sign and share jokes. And he's so broad that it makes your insides clench each time your eyes skim over his shoulders.

But then you can't help but feel a flicker of self-consciousness creep in when he gently asks about your ear. A little nubbin of stumped skin revealed as you brush your hair past it, realising that you’ve forgotten all about it - so caught up in the connection you share that it no longer seems to matter.

But it's a part of yourself that you’ve spent years trying to hide, tucking it away beneath the layers of your hair like a secret you’re ashamed to reveal.

You brace yourself for his reaction, half-expecting a look of pity or discomfort to cross his face. But instead, you’re met with a warm smile and a gentle touch as he reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair away.

Frankie signs with a tender reassurance. "You don't have to hide it from me. I think you’re beautiful."

You smile, feeling incredibly heated as you reach for your drink.

"You know," he signs, "I used to be a little self-conscious about something too."

Curiosity flickers in your eyes as you watch him sign. "Really?" You respond.

"Yeah. I was serving in the army," he begins, his gaze somewhat distant as he recalls the memories. "There was an explosion. I was lucky to survive, but I was pretty messed up. Ended up with horrific scarring from the burns. Had to have a skin graft.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the gravity of his words. You can't imagine the horrors he must have endured, the pain and suffering etched into every line of his tired, yet striking, face.

And yet, there's a strength and resilience in Frankie that you find utterly captivating - a bravery that shines through in the way he holds himself, despite the scars he carries, even if they’re not outwardly obvious.

"You're a hero," you sign, your hands trembling slightly with emotion. "Thank you for your service, soldier."

“Actually, it’s captain.” He simply salutes at you, fingers brushing the rim of his cap with a buoyant smirk and then a little wink as the waitress puts down your plates in front of you both.

“Captain Catfish.” You salute back, chuckling.

You watch Frankie take a big bite of his burger, and your laughter suddenly bubbles up from deep within your chest. It's not his charming smile or his witty banter that elicits this sudden burst of amusement - it's the way he eats his pickle.

With a playful twinkle in his eye, Frankie takes a dramatic bite of the pickle, exaggerating the crunch with an over-the-top flourish. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he chews, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

You can't help but laugh at the sight, your heart swelling with affection for this man who seems to delight in the simple pleasures of life. In that moment, watching him enjoy his pickle with such gusto, you feel yourself falling hard for him already.

“What?” He mouths with a curious grin.

“I can’t stand pickles.” You wrinkle your nose after sticking your tongue out in mock disgust, as he wipes his furry lips with a napkin.

“Oh, shit…” he signs. You watch his smile dip and you query as to what’s wrong with that statement.

“Well,” Frankie signs with deeply intense eyes, “if I taste of pickles, it means you won’t enjoy it when I kiss you.”

You baulk. “You… want to kiss me?”

He nods with a gleam. “I mean, I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you.”

You put your half-eaten burger down on your plate, completely stunned and feeling even more hot. Suddenly stifling inside the diner.

His casual declaration sends a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins, mingled with a hint of nervousness that quickens your breath and sets your pulse racing again.

There's a magnetic pull between you, a chemistry that you can't ignore. You can't shun the way your skin prickles, all the way down your spine, how you’re squeezing your thighs together under the table so much that it throbs and feels delicious at the thought of him in between them.

You can’t deny that you haven't thought about kissing him yourself all night as your eyes drop to his lips as he licks them free of salt and ketchup.

You want to know what he’ll taste like, how that moustache will feel against your lips, how his scruff will feel between your thighs.

How gentle he’ll kiss you, how hard he’ll fuck you…

You sense he’s thinking the same thing because Frankie plops his burger down on his plate too and suggests getting out of here, to which you’re only too eager to agree.

And outside, Frankie makes good on his word about kissing you as he pulls you back gently by the elbow, cups your face in his giant hands and presses his lips to yours.

The taste of each other is a sweet and heady blend of anticipation and desire. You taste the faint remnants of the burgers, mixed with the tang of Frankie's salty breath from the pickle, and the subtle hint of his cologne.

It's a delicious concoction that fills your senses, leaving you craving more and melding yourself to him with every passing moment.

Frankie's gentle touch traces patterns along your spine, the warmth of his skin pressing against you as he envelops you closer to him; his wet and explorative tongue circling around your own and your toes buzzing as you stand on tiptoes to reach him.

Pulling away, and smirking, he signs if you want to go back to his place or to yours. You suggest yours, more for your own comfort and he agrees, taking your hand and leading you back to his Pickup.

Once inside your home, it’s a frantic tug of removing clothes in between hot, wet kisses and tangles of trembling limbs. Your hands trail over his smooth, bronzed skin, card through his curls after knocking his cap off, and his own hands squeeze your hips and ass greedily.

“You okay? Is this too fast?” Frankie signs, eyes dilated and lips plushly swollen from bruising kisses.

You shake your head and signal that you want to continue. That you want him here. That you just want him inside of you.

You barely make it up the stairs, stopping as you both fumble and tug at clothes and grope hot flesh. Crashing on the bed, you watch breathlessly as he pulls your jeans and panties off, kissing up the insides of your thighs.

Propped up in the pillows, you watch him keenly between your legs as he slowly makes out with your skin.

Kissing and mouthing over your thighs as he pushes them up and apart, opening you up for him. Running his nose around and inhaling over your mound as his eyes flick up to you, dark and chasm-like as he smirks insidiously.

Frankie looks up at you as his tongue glides slowly through your folds, big brown eyes glazed darkly as your fingers twist inside his messy curls. Adept wet tongue rolling softly, but purposefully, over the throbbing nub of your clit, and you gasp as your legs shake on his broad shoulders, a jolt of electricity speeding through them.

“You taste so good,” he signs with his fingers quickly before nuzzling his nose against your pussy again.

His grip around your thighs tighten as he delves deeper, tongue dipping into your hole and sliding all the way up to your clit.

You sigh out, head lolling back as your body shudders. He sucks intensely, lips vacuumed around it as you can feel his tongue gliding back and forth over it in his mouth.

You pull tighter on his hair, panting and feeling the coil tighten and pull inside your core.

He looks up at you again as his middle finger slides into you with ease, you’re soaked. He nods at you with a raised brow and mouths “good?” around shiny lips.

You nod with a breathy smile and gasp as he slides in another, using his fingers to pry you open so he can stroke and fuck whilst he licks and sucks.

You moan out as he pumps and licks at your pussy, bringing you to a giddy and twinkly orgasm as you shake and buck, pulling tighter on his curls. Your thighs thrum around his head, and he watches you whilst latched to your cunt, spilling warm slick into his mouth.

You tug his chin towards you, soft scruff soaked, devouring his mouth with yours as you whine and taste yourself around his lips.

You reach for his belt before he pulls away, leaving you chasing the ghost of his kiss as he stands.

Shucking his jeans off your eyes fall onto the large cluster of scars that adorn the left side of his hip, thigh and lower leg. Puckered white slashes that mar his tanned flesh, and he smiles softly at you as you reach out to stroke over them.

Faded, craggy lines in his skin as he strokes through your hair and his thumb brushes back and forth against your little nubbin for an ear.

"Beautiful," he mouths at you with soft eyes as the feel of it makes your skin tingle.

Glancing up at him, he’s biting his lip; eyes dark like oil as he guides your hand across his hip to the thick cock tenting in his boxers.

He’s so hard as you stroke and squeeze gently, a dark patch soiling his boxers where he’s leaking arousal into them.

Frankie submits as you pull him down onto the bed and crawl over him, kissing over his chest into the soft swell of his stomach. Mouthing and stroking explorative digits over his golden skin.

Flat and spread with his neck craning up to watch you reveal him - a swollen, tanned cock with a pink, dripping head. Lips curling back over incisors as he watches you lick over the swollen tip of him and you groan in delight at his taste.

You can see him gasping, lips parted in a small ‘o’ as he breathes, watching you suck him down.

You wish so much that you could have your aid in right now to hear the noises he’s making. You can see him, head back on the pillow, mouth open and eyes closed in bliss as his cock fills your mouth whilst you suck and lick all around it.

You feel his fingers snake in your hair until he pulls you upright and kisses you, tongues knotted together again.

“Fuck me, Frankie.” You sign quickly with abject need.

Rolling with you, he lines up, guiding himself into you with a gentle shunt forward of his hips and you gasp.

“Too much?” He mouths at you and you instantly shake your head and grip his ass, pulling him into you.

“So good,” you mouth back to him and he smiles.

Your hands frame his hips, feeling the change in skin texture from his scars. Feeling them work as he drives in deep, curls tickling your nose as his forehead rests on yours, breath pelting your face.

You look down between you to see his cock continually disappearing inside you and he feels so good as he bottoms out inside you, not quite believing this is actually happening.

Until it happens.

A wave crashing into you, warm and tingling as your body arches into him, your grip becoming tighter and your back sweating as you shake and tense before uncoiling. Letting go as your orgasm takes you and flings you up into the ether.

You feel him press a kiss to your temple, his scruff silken against your cheek. You wrap your legs around his waist and grip harder on his ass as you pant and see stars behind your eyes.

He flattens his palms on the bed and works faster, hitting that spot inside you that makes you cry out louder.

Frankie slows down to kiss you, grinding his hips so your clit brushes against that soft thatch of hairs at the base of him. He can’t stop kissing you as he gently thrusts, lips gliding over your mouth, your cheeks, your throat. His patchy beard brushing against your ear, your eyelashes… he’s everywhere.

You cling onto him, hands splayed and fingers digging into broad, toned flesh as you build. He smiles as you squirm, blissed brown peepers and a crooked grin flashing at you as your breathing and gasping intensifies.

Cock bringing you to the edge once more and he watches the moment you leap off and fly. He mouths the word “beautiful” again at you before you clutch his face, shaking and kissing him desperately.

You nod at him as you watch him strain, and the tension in his neck and shoulders tightens. You mouth the word “come” and his mouth opens, baring teeth as his lips curl back.

Frankie looks incredible when he comes, biting down on those flush lips, veins in his neck bulging. His grip on you becomes tighter, his hips fucking you more frantic as his mouth slacks and his eyes roll back.

You see him utter the word “fuck” and it sends shockwaves to your core. "Inside?"

You nod frantically wanting him to fill you up.

He pulls out slightly and grabs a hold of his cock as it pumps inside you, pulling out so just the tip stays inside, flooding you. Watching in awe as it drips around your hole and uses his fingers to scoop it up and push it back inside as he leans over you for a kiss.

Flopping down beside you, you ask him if he wants to stay, and he nods with flushed cheeks and pulls you into his broad arms as he crushes you to him.

“You better not hog the duvet,” you sign to him, and you feel his chest rumble under you as he laughs.

Splayed, untamed curls stick out in all directions and he’s never looked so good, and you wonder how these events have transpired over the course of the last few hours where you’re tucked up in his arms, still twitching from an intense slew of orgasms.

"I really like you," he signs with a sleepy smile.

"I really like you too." You sign back.

You lay there, noses nuzzling as Frankie’s fingers stroke across your navel until you finally succumb to sleep.

As the soft morning light filters through the curtains, you slowly begin to stir from a satiated slumber; your other senses gradually awakening to the world around you.

As you stretch and yawn, you feel a sense of contentment wash over you - a snug warmth that lingers from the heady events of the night before, and emanates from the broad body beside you.

You stir to see Frankie propped up on an elbow and gazing down at you, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips. His fingers are in your hair, stoking gently over the nub of your ear delicately.

You allow yourself to bask in it for a few moments, not shying away or worried about covering it up. Just revelling in the feel of his gentle, unabashed touch.

“Morning,” you sign to him with sleepy eyes.

“I have something for you,” he signs back, reaching behind him and presenting you with an open palm.

Resting on it now is your hearing aid. The casing is still cracked, but all the components and wires are tucked safely back inside.

"I hope you don't mind," Frankie signs, "I fixed it for you this morning while you were sleeping. I have a few tools kicking about in my truck. It’s not a permanent fix, was fiddly as hell, but it should help you out until you get your new one at least..."

A surge of gratitude floods your heart as you take the hearing aid from him with awe, your fingers tracing the familiar contours of the device with a sense of wonder.

“You fixed it?” You sign, completely floored.

“Well, I hope I did.” He signs back, sheepishly. You watch as he scratches under his jaw lazily and smiles at you. “Put it in, let’s see.”

With trembling fingers, you place the hearing aid in your ear, your breath catching in your throat as you wait for the moment of truth.

And then, as if by magic, the world around you slowly fuzzes alive with familiar sounds - the soft rustle of the sheets, the distant chirping of birds through the open window, the gentle rhythm of Frankie’s breathing beside you.

“Hey, can you hear me?” Frankie smiles eagerly at you.

As you hear his voice for the first time, you’re struck by its exquisite tone and timbre, like the gentle strumming of a finely tuned guitar. There's a deep richness to it, a depth that resonates within you, rain on gravel, velvet against skin.

“Hey,” you reply with a widening smile. “So good to finally hear you.”

“You too. But I’m just grateful you didn’t hear me snore.” Frankie chuckles, and you giggle with him as he nuzzles into you.

“Thank you,” you say before he kisses you, igniting sparks inside your chest again as he rolls on top of you, body warm and blanketing you.

"It was nothing, really."

“No, it's everything." You smile as he brushes his nose against yours. "Can I make you some breakfast, as a way of thanks?” You ask him as you feel his lips run over your neck, teeth gently nipping at the flesh there and hearing him hum out is exquisite.

“I’d love that.” His breath is all hot and muffled against your throat.

You can feel the thickness of him slipping between your soaked folds, grunting deeply as he slides back in, filling you up once more - a delicious, deep sound that reverberates and floods every nerve of your being.

Your world is alight with colour once more with the way he whines as you scratch inside his roots. The way he snuffles against your skin as he sucks in mouthfuls of it.

The sounds of him cursing through his pleasure, "fuck, baby," and "you feel so fuckin' good around my cock." His filth is exquisite.

You cry out as he fills you full, fingers grappling against his skin and mewling his name in hypnotic chants as he drives deep and hard. You can't get enough and never want to let him go.

“Mmm, I think this is a good way you can thank me right now, hermosa...”

I really hope you enjoyed reading this story with Frankie, and welcome your comments/thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog if you liked it so others can find it on their dash to read and enjoy too - thank you very much! 🖤

BODIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fluff #triple frontier fic #bodies series #diversity #inclusion #every body is beautiful #jett's writing

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kedsandtubesocks · 29 days

Text

seasons of you (year 1 - winter)

Blacksmith!Frankie Morales x F!Reader

summary: your first winter in the valley brings in a frosty breeze & a push towards a certain blacksmith

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, stardew valley AU, reader is a farmer & has a family but no physical description, shy & sweet!Frankie, major pining & yearning, friends to something more, Frankie being previously married/a bit secretive about his life, gift exchange as love language, use of nickname (Frankie calls reader “little farmer” affectionately but it’s no reflection on reader’s size), blooming romance

word count: 5.6k

a/n: we’ve arrived to Frankie’s first piece in our Stardew AU series! We’re starting ‘in the middle of things’ & it’s meant to show how slow/shy our relationship with Frankie unfolds that romance just starts rolling now, plus I needed Frankie’s story to begin this way so something else can maybe unfold in year two but that’s all I’m gonna saying lol, again couldn’t have done this without @lowlights @swiftispunk @perotovar & @burntheedges you babes are my guiding stars always and I’m eternally grateful. And to you, if you’re reading this, thank you too lovely

Snow crunches under your boots and the chilly air seeping through your coat feels different. This would be your first serious winter storm and you already sense it approaching.

Yanking open the blacksmith’s door, a wave of heat washes over and you sigh.

Thankfully Frankie’s shop is still open and you almost cry relieved.

“Sorry!” You apologize walking further towards the counter. “I know there’s five minutes left before closing, but I just wanted to swing by!”

You wanted to pick up your newly forged ax before the storm hit and of course…

You wanted to see him.

Autumn kept you so busy with the farm and the fall festival. Now you hope to see more of your favorite blacksmith.

Waiting for him, your eyes wander.

The shop, with its eternal flame flickering, holds so much personality in its walls. A military pilot flag hangs by the front. The low radio plays a soft rock ballad. A bulletin board by the side of the counter is covered in various flyers and photos. Your favorite snapshots are one of a smiling little baby girl with sweet chubby cheeks you still haven’t gotten to ask Frankie who she is. There’s another photo of a group of men in military uniform.

It’s all so familiar and welcoming now.

With all the time in the mines, you wonder if maybe your pickaxe needs work too. Sliding your backpack off, you examine your trusty tool. Worn, but not weathered, the steel speaks of the craftsmanship and skill of the blacksmith who first forged it for you.

“You waiting for that tool to do something or should I leave you two alone?”

Frankie.

You fight back a smile when his warm deep teasing voice floats in.

Frankie wasn’t this easy going with you at first. He kept his distance, was polite but rather reserved.

“He’s just shy. He was like that when I first moved in too,” Leah, your closest friend here in the valley, reassured you one night at the saloon.

Now those beautiful gem eyes of Francisco Morales blaze straight at you as he walks towards the counter. Wearing his trademark baseball cap you playfully glare at him.

“I’m just checking to see if I need to complain to my blacksmith about my pickaxe needing work.” You quip back to him.

“Oh well shit, thank god that isn’t me.” Frankie smirks and you snort at his comment.

Frankie reminds you of the flames and steel he works with. Hard working and gently intense, yet a warmth gleams beneath him and fills an entire room just like the heat from his kilns.

“You just had to come in five minutes before I closed huh?” Frankie sighs dramatically.

You think he’s teasing but guilt still strikes you quick. Rambling out apologies, you scramble to explain how it’s mainly for precaution with the storm coming.

“I can always come back later!” You urge panicking.

He chuckles, cozily deep, and you sputter to a stop.

“I kid little farmer, I kid.”

That nickname he so casually gave to you just this month sparks an electric warmth through your entire body. You weakly laugh back, not able to fully process a reply.

Frankie’s gorgeous features, his striking nose, and his warm eyes disarm you in a way that makes your knees want to fold.

He moves around the tables and workbenches to pull out your ax.

“There it is!” You happily cheer.

Frankie even playfully shows off the sleek new tool like he’s a hostess in a daytime game show and you clap appreciatively while you laugh. It surprises you how silly sometimes Frankie can be.

Moving back to the counter he places your ax onto it. Then he leans towards you and begins explaining what upgrades he did.

You should be listening, but you can’t. Not with him leaning so close to you.

You’ve had an embarrassing crush on Frankie since the first moment Mayor Lewis introduced you to him. But with how busy you’ve been settling into the valley, along with how shy and reserved Frankie is, your feelings simply have stayed crystallizing inside you.

Frankie’s diligent eyes are so focused on his work and it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. How dedicated he is to his craft, how quietly passionate he is, you yearn to fall into him more.

Suddenly Frankie’s eyes flicker up and catch you staring at him. In a panic your gaze snaps down to your tool.

“Yup! Looks like it can still cut a tree! Good job, Morales.” You lamely reply and Frankie snorts.

You do sincerely thank him and even offer to get him coffee for making him stay this late.

Frankie waves you off casually. “Maybe next time, besides you gotta get home before the storm hits.”

He’s right. There's still so much you need to do before the night comes. The clatter of Frankie slowly shutting everything down for the night draws you out of your thoughts.

“Do you need any help?” You offer.

“Nah, I’m good. Plus I don’t need your pretty hands getting burned.” Frankie replies back.

Although he’s not looking at you, his sly compliment sends a spark through your body.

Scrambling to put your ax in its guard and then shoving it into your backpack, you thank Frankie again and plan to quietly leave.

“Wait!” Frankie suddenly calls out and you freeze.

“Wait, don’t head out yet. Let me walk you home.”

The chill from outside settles into the shop now that the fires are extinguished. Yet, Frankie’s words ignite a dizzying heat.

“Oh no it’s okay!” You quickly stammer out as a nervous energy spikes in you.

You know he lives besides the forge. It wouldn’t make sense for him to walk you home then have to head the way back here.

The lights from the back area turn off and Frankie already walks out towards you with his coat on.

Your eyes go wide.

“Come on.” He gently nudges you with his kind eyes and your body moves on autopilot.

Once outside the cold galvanizes you. The sky above stretches out a misty blue while the edges of evening’s midnight coloring slowly creeps in.

The entire walk back to your farm Frankie stays in step with you. The conversation is light, easy, simple talk of how his and your day went. Your heart hammers in your chest. Yet, it’s comforting to have someone beside you. He’s warm and stays close.

Now your farm stretches before you a soft welcome home. Frankie, like the gentleman he is, walks you to the door.

Appreciative, you warmly thank him and wish him a safe trip back home.

“Thanks and stay warm, little farmer.” He grins softly, kind.

After a sweet wave goodbye to him, you walk off the porch to do all the final errands before you call it a night.

“Wait, what’re you doing?” Frankie suddenly calls out and curiosity colors his voice.

You glance back and see he hasn’t moved an inch.

With an eased sleepy smile you tell him you have a few last minute things you need to do. Like check on your winter seeds, double check the coop and then make sure the pipes are covered.

“You need help?” He warmly asks concerned and sincere.

“Oh no, I’m good I promise!” You reply. If you were braver you’d joke about not wanting to hurt his pretty hands.

“Besides, you need to get home.” You firmly tell him.

It’s getting darker, not completely night out, but you feel guilty for Frankie walking out here.

So with one final sigh you give him a warm goodbye.

“Stay warm tonight, Morales.”

Frankie quietly grins back and you hope he makes it home safe. Now your focus turns to the small field and you kneel before it.

Your winter seeds aren’t ready just yet. A dread fills you wondering if they will last against the storm.

“What are you growing?”

Frankie.

You didn’t even hear his footsteps in the snow. Whipping your head up you watch Frankie lean down to squat beside you.

“You should be walking home!” You cry out surprised.

Frankie shrugs sleepily. “It’s still early, I’ll be fine.”

You make an indignant squeak that makes him chuckle. Frankie’s eyes return to the little saplings still making their way through the snow, stubbornly growing against the harsh winter.

“They’re just winter seeds.” You sigh explaining how you’ve been growing them mainly for the experience and money.

“You think they’re gonna make it?” He asks gently.

You hope so.

You’re about to get up when Frankie quickly stands above with his hand outstretched to you. Even though your hands are gloved and so are his, a flutter runs through your chest when you place your hand in his. Frankie lifts you up effortlessly and you thank him, trying to steady yourself.

“Alright, what’s next?” Frankie asks light.

“For you to go home, Morales!” You laugh.

“Well you’re walking towards the barn so…kinda doesn’t seem like you’re finished yet.” Frankie comments almost shyly as he stays walking beside you.

“I’m not, but I don’t need your help. Go home!” You urge with a weak laugh. Frankie simply shrugs.

Sliding open the coop door, warmth begs you to come inside. You’re thankful for investing in those barn heaters.

“Your chickens are so big.” Frankie admires quietly in awe at the sleeping birds.

You smile while double checking the coop. Everything seems secure and safe for whatever might come this way tonight.

Stepping back outside the cold air seems still, quiet.

“You need to head home.” You tell him sternly, more worried than ever about his walk back to town.

“What’s next?” He asks with steeled resolve in his voice with no sign of leaving.

“Go home Francisco.” You firmly urge saying his full name.

But then you catch the sight of your pipes and sigh. So you almost did forget to wrap them.

“You didn't wrap your pipes?” He sounds a bit worried.

“I thought I did earlier…” Now you’re extra grateful for double checking.

When the first snow came at the start of winter, everyone reassured you the pipes would be fine. It was during harder snow storms, blizzards, that you needed to be careful. And now one approaches fast.

Frankie follows you inside the house to grab the necessary materials.

You can’t even process him being in your home for the first time. Simply on a mission you and him work together swiftly grabbing duck tape, a ratty old towel and head to the pipes.

It’s a swift team effort. In minutes, the pipes are securely wrapped safely and snug. You and him even share a triumphant high five.

“I wish I could invite you in for a thank you hot chocolate but you need to head home now.” You press.

Frankie, with his hands in his coat pockets, shrugs easily.

“I can stay for some thank you hot coco.” He offers.

“You gotta get home before the storm hits!” You shriek.

He waves you off casually. “It’s not coming till later tonight I’ll be fine. Now come on, don’t you wanna impress me with your hot chocolate skills?”

The smirk he gives you is so boyishly charming, almost like he’s daring you to invite him in.

This side of him is rare. You’ve only seen him get this smug and cocky at the saloon during a game of darts. Now your heart flutters fast in your chest.

“Come on,” He pouts. “Think of this as a way to help keep me warm on the walk back.”

He makes a point. The panic of wanting him to make it home safe before the storm, becomes smaller against the thought of spending more time with this man.

To have this man in your home.

So with a sigh of defeat you crack. Nudging your chin towards the door, you let Frankie in.

He’s in your home now. You need to stay composed.

You do have budding feelings for him, something that’s evolved out of the simple crush you had. And having him here in your home feels like dipping your toe into the deep end of a pool before jumping in. But you shake those thoughts away.

“Your place is nice.” Frankie admires and you thank him.

It’s still small, cozy now that you’re slowly allowing yourself to fully settle into the old bones of your grandpa’s home.

You want to say more until Frankie’s stomach suddenly growls.

Looking at him with surprised eyes, he stares back with beautiful eyes the size of the full moons.

“Shit.”

You laugh at his panicked response.

“You okay with maybe staying and having a quick dinner or should I really kick you out so you can head home?” You leave the option up to him, place the ball in his court.

Frankie with the most bashful smile slides off his coat.

“Dinner sounds great, little farmer.”

Your heart floats up and gets tangled in your throat, but it’s incredible.

You have the leftover lasagna Evelyn gave you as a thank you. But you also think of the soup recipe you've been dying to make for this weather.

So you leave it up to your guest for the night.

“Soup or leftover lasagna?” You offer light.

Frankie’s eyebrows scrunched together adorable, thinking hard at the two options, and you keep back a giggle.

“Will the soup take you a while to make?” He sounds sweetly concerned.

You swear it will take less than twenty minutes.

“Soup it is.” Frankie grins and it touches his eyes.

You begin grabbing the various ingredients and hate how hyper aware you feel even in your own house.

“So what can I help with?” Frankie now slides beside you and you almost squeak in surprise.

For someone who makes so much noise when he works, you find he’s rather quiet, swift.

“You’re my guest, so don’t worry. Plus you’ve helped enough!” You shoo him away and don’t miss the way he playfully glares at you.

Conversation again unfolds effortlessly with him. Frankie talks about how Mayor Lewis was in the shop earlier bragging about you hitting a full year in the valley.

“And here I thought everyone had stopped gossiping about me.” You snort lightly and start grabbing the bowls.

It will be a full year since you moved to your grandpa’s family farm. However, you wonder when the newness of you living here will subside.

“There’s… still some gossip of course. Small town after all.” Frankie admits shyly, like a school boy admitting a secret.

“But don’t worry, I don’t let any of ‘em talk bad about you in my shop.” Frankie, endearingly sweet, adds. His words knock you breathless and you almost drop the bowls.

“I knew I could count on you, Morales.” You manage to say with a grin.

Thankfully quick, the soup turns out comforting and delicious. Frankie even gushes about how incredible it is and your ego inflates wild.

“Thanks so much for dinner.” Frankie beams with the brightness of a sun.

“Please, I’m the one who’s thankful for all your help.” You earnestly tell him.

“Plus, it’s nice to have good company for dinner.” You add.

“I understand,” Frankie nods. “Gets a bit quiet around my place too. S’nice to change it up.”

A dual sided emotion settles in you. You ache understanding but also yearn to uncover more about this beautiful and sturdy man.

Before you can dive more into this discussion, Frankie’s phone rings wild and loud. Hastily scrambling to grab it, once he discovers who’s calling his face drops for a flicker of a moment.

“Sorry little farmer, but gotta excuse myself real quick is that alright?” His voice wavers.

Of course you earnestly reassure him and even direct him to the bathroom so he can talk in private. Frankie thanks you graciously then rushes out.

The house is quiet and he didn’t fully close the bathroom door fully. So his conversation leaks out enough for you to catch it.

“Wait, so you wannna just spring this on me now?” His voice slices out sharp. You’ve never heard Frankie sound this upset.

“Yes of course I’m gonna take her. But do you know how fucking shitty this is, Diana? Did you even think about my schedule before you fucking planned this trip?” He snaps.

You’ve also never heard him curse and it snaps your snipe straight. He sighs incredibly frustrated and angered, allowing whoever is on the phone to talk.

“Oh yeah, yeah, real fucking nice. Always make me the bad guy, right?”

Then Frankie starts speaking fast and low in Spanish you can’t catch what he’s saying. His tone however feels barbed and venomous.

So many questions bubble up. You believe you heard the name ‘Diana’ but this could be a conversation about anything.

Now thinking about it, even though you’ve been here almost a full year… you don’t know much about Frankie personally and that truth sinks your heart.

Silence now settles into your home until Frankie’s footsteps echo returning down the hall.

“I’m so sorry.” Frankie’s voice jolts the air but with a deep sadness. “I think I’m gonna have to save that cup of hot chocolate for another day.”

You kind of figured. Besides, you didn’t want him to get caught in the storm.

Outside the air has chilled, but thankfully the snow hasn’t begun.

“Had a great time tonight, thanks again for having me for.” An earnest grace radiates from his words.

You’re the one who’s truly thankful for him and you repeatedly tell him that.

Unfortunately a dread hits you. You want to make sure he makes it home. Your worry must be evident on your face because Frankie’s eyes cloud with caution.

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

When you tell him, a beautiful relief melts on Frankie’s face that you almost wish you could capture.

“Oh come on, that’s easy to fix, little farmer.”

He pulls out his phone and hands it to you.

He’s asking for your number.

Your heart beats so rapidly in your ears when you type your digits in.

“I’ll message you when I get home. Promise.” His warm voice is gilded with truth.

“Stay safe okay Frankie?” You tell him and his gorgeous eyes soften.

“Yeah, will do. And you stay safe too okay, little farmer? Stay warm and if you need anything.”

He holds his phone up and playfully wiggles it, a signal to say you should call him. You smile unbearably big and stay on the porch watching him leave until he vanishes from your sight.

You keep busy so you’re not simply staring at your phone waiting for his message. You clean up the remnants of dinner and feel comforted seeing two bowls in your sink.

Then your phone chimes and you scramble.

An message from an unknown number:

[Made it home safe!]

Another message flickers in.

[Also this is Frankie btw :)]

[Hi! 🪓]

The little ax emoji he adds makes you giggle giddy over how adorable this man can be.

You add his name and contact info into your phone. It warms you better than any sip of hot chocolate could.

- ❆ -

“Why do we even gotta celebrate ice?” One of the kids, you think Vincent, shouts that as you reach the edge of the forest and you snicker.

When you heard about the festival of ice, it simply sounded like a way for the town to break up the winter days. But it also reminded you how earnest and endearing the town can be.

Your heart jumps fast spotting Frankie bundled in his cozy jacket. He stands close to Willy and the two of them talk low, completely engaged with each other.

Whatever they’re discussing seems serious, evident in Frankie’s hard frown and Willy’s unusual somber expression. You decide not to interrupt them.

The fishing game is the highlight of the festival and to no shock the town’s head fisherman wins.

“It’s rigged.” You tease Willy and his hearty laugh is contagious.

“Don’t worry, next year you’ll be puttin’ me to shame.” Willy proudly declares.

When the event concludes for the day, Frankie already walks off without saying a word to you.

You try not to think about it too much.

When you’re about to head to bed, you find a message alert on your phone.

Frankie:

[Good try with the fishing tournament today! Sorry I didn’t get to talk to you today… have a lot of stuff going on. Also Willy wins every year. Think Lewis even adds fish into his crate to make sure it happens lol you’re the real winner in my book ]

You laugh as warmth balloons rapidly in your chest.

This message feels like a true victory for the day and it carries you for the rest of the week. Especially with how hard and brisk this final season of the year is.

Everyone warned you winter would be tough, and with your greenhouse still unfixed you’re realizing how true the warning is.

The days drag and bleed together. You throw yourself into the mines trying to gather more resources but that drains you fast. So you start doing a few errands around town to break up the days.

When Frankie requests a certain amount of wood you scramble quickly to complete the errand.

Inside the blacksmith shop, the familiar warmth greets you. However when Frankie walks out, a weariness looms over him. Heavy bangs hang around his eyes even as he smiles thin.

“Hey.” His voice is weary.

“Hey.” You reply back hesitantly. “I uh…have the wood you asked for.”

“Oh shit really?” He perks up. “Thanks, little farmer.”

You beam proud knowing you managed to at least brighten his day a little.

“Wait here, let me get your payment.”

You almost want to tell him that wasn’t necessary, but Frankie scrambles for his wallet.

“So, how ya been?” He asks.

“Good.” You partially lie. “How have you been?”

“Good.” He answers quickly, however you sense a lie buried.

You weakly smile. Exhausted, Frankie barely grins back and a pang pierces through you.

“Hey… Frankie.” You begin weakly. Frankie, midway pulling out your payment, freezes and blinks towards you.

“Yeah, little farmer what’s up?”

You know this might not mean much but you want to at least tell him.

“I just…” the words get stuck in your throat but with a deep inhale you unclog them.

“You just seem tired. I appreciate how hard you work but I just hope you get some rest when you can.” You tell him earnestly. “And… if there’s anything bothering you, I just wanted you to know you can always talk to me.”

You finish and hope you didn’t overstep.

Frankie’s gemstone eyes flicker stunned and then he sighs.

For the first time, Frankie slips his very notable baseball cap off and runs a hand over his hair.

His soft hat hair, the way you get this new glimpse of Frankie, lights something within your chest. You’ve never seen him without his cap. When he slips the baseball hat back on, his eyes seem cloudy and downcast.

“Thanks little farmer, appreciate it.” He mutters with another sigh. “It’s just stupid shit with my ex wife that’s taking longer than I expected to work out.”

Frankie’s words catapult you straight out of the atmosphere and your blood runs cold.

Ex wife.

Frankie was married before.

“I shouldn’t let it bother me and I don’t wanna be that type of ex husband, but holy shit she can be so damn difficult.” He shakes his head.

This feels like you’re meeting him again for the first time. But you’re grateful he’s sharing this with you.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with this and with her being difficult.” You reply with a soft comfort.

“You’re a good guy Frankie. I hope she doesn’t make you forget that.” You add, meaning those words.

You and him might have just recently become closer, but this entire year you’ve been living in Pelican Town Frankie’s been so sincerely kind. Always being patient with you and how awful you sometimes are to your poor tools. Even just seeing his soft shy smile when you run into him has brightened your day many times.

Frankie’s eyes finally flicker to you. They search your face like he’s waiting for you to react.

His mouth opens slightly.

Then he says your name, breathes it out, and it kickstarts a wild flutter in your heart.

But the door suddenly yanks open wildly behind you, cutting him off rapidly.

Robin, the town’s ever handy carpenter, arrives with a warm welcome drawing all the attention to her. The moment flutters away with her entrance. With a fast goodbye to Frankie and a swift warm greeting to Robin, you scramble fast to leave.

“Wait I didn’t-”

You don’t even wait to hear what Frankie has to say before you’re out of the door and back into the cold winter air. With so many thoughts buzzing in your head like angry hornets you simply head to the mines.

You stay there until the dead of night and drag your body back to farm. Even with how tired you are, your mind still thinks of a certain blacksmith.

The next morning there are two letters waiting for you. One is from Lewis reminding you of the upcoming Winter Star festival. The other is from Frankie.

Your heart jumps fast.

Little farmer,

Thanks for thinking of me and wanting to look out for me. Appreciate it a lot. Also you forgot your payment yesterday, silly! Don’t work yourself too hard either. So you get some rest too, alright?

Hope you swing by again and maybe soon we’ll have time for that hot chocolate :)

He not only sent you the payment for the errand but also a sweet pack of maple bars.

An overwhelming sweetness consumes you and you wish it never leaves.

The next day you plan to make Frankie a hot chocolate to bring him in the morning. But you realize you used the last remaining bits a few nights ago when you snuggled in for a cozy reading night. You mentally kick yourself but decide a green tea will hopefully be the best second option.

The minute Frankie’s shop opens you’re there the first one inside.

“You’re here early.” Frankie greets you with crinkled smiling eyes.

“Thought I’d stop by before I head to the mines.” You reply back brightly.

“It’s not hot cocoa, but I hope it’s a nice treat.” You offer lightly while you hand him the cozy to go drink.

“You got this for me? Thanks so much.” Your heart flutters hearing how warm his voice gets.

He takes a sip and his eye brows shoot up under the cover of his hat. Oh no. Does he not like it?

“Is this green tea?” His voice jumps so excited. “I love green tea!”

His brilliant smile creates a sun bursting light in your chest and you’re a bit grateful now you ran out of hot chocolate.

- ❆ -

Gus is a full five minutes into his handmade candy cane discussion and while you adore the endearing saloon owner, you can only take so much.

The feast of the evening star still warms and eases you though. The twinkling decorations, the absolute grand festive tree, the delicious food - it’s all a cozy blanket to soak into.

So you allow dear Gus to ramble about his candy canes while you sip on your warm drink.

“So who’s your secret gift recipient?”

Frankie’s soft but playful voice catches you off guard and you almost sputter out your drink.

You caught sight of him earlier but he was busy laughing with Pierre and Caroline. Then you got caught up in greeting everyone. Now you’re thankful to finally talk to him.

“You know that’s a secret.” You playfully glare at him.

The blacksmith simply shrugs but the amusement tugging his lips makes you smile.

A beautiful flush crawls over Frankie’s face. A kaleidoscopic joy sparkles in his deep eyes. He seems better and joy fills you.

“So does that mean you’re not gonna tell me what your winter star wish is?” He asks light.

You roll your eyes, but giddiness consumes you fast.

“You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.” You surprisingly coyly reply.

Frankie snorts and his face crinkles up adorable.

“If I told ya, you probably wouldn’t even believe me.” He says casually then takes a sip of his drink.

“Wait,” you reply back. “Now you gotta tell me.”

Frankie doesn’t reply for a moment.

In the stillness of this moment, you notice how close he is. He’s leaning right beside you that you can smell the faint smoke of his work, and a crisp cologne you’ve never noticed before.

Then, you see it. His stunning amber gemstone eyes flicker to your lips.

It’s fast, happens in a breath of a moment. Your throat dries. You blame the warm food and festive atmosphere, but you ache to lean closer.

Before you can react or even wait for Frankie’s next move, Mayor Lewis claps loudly, breaking the spell.

“Time to exchange gifts everybody!” He declares.

Your body feels electric and immediately you try settling yourself down. You needed to give your gift.

Jodi, the sweet mother she is, deserves a nice sweet treat and you surprise her with a fully cooked chocolate cake. Her warm excited reaction is a treat itself.

Evelyn, ever the kind grandmother, gives you a pack of her delicious and warm cookies. You hug her tight thanking her.

The festival concludes with a gentle end and fizzles out softly. The clean up is eased, relaxed, and by the time it’s finished an unfortunately long yawn takes over you.

“Can I walk ya home, little farmer? You seem tired.”

Frankie again, so stealthy, suddenly appears out of thin air.

You squeak out a quick yes and his face melts soft.

“So a full year down huh? Hope we haven’t scared you off too badly.” Frankie offers hopeful.

It has been a year, feels like so much yet so little has been composed into your new life here in Pelican Town. You think of the dilapidated community center you’ve been keeping an eye on and working on.

You’ve taken this new journey slowly, at your own pace. You can almost hear your grandpa’s voice cheering you on saying just take it one step at a time.

“No way.” You laugh answering Frankie’s question. If anything, you’ve grown more attached to the valley than you ever imagined. You even tell Frankie this and his face lights up so beautifully it rivals the festival tree standing in the town plaza.

“Everything work out with your ex?” You ask gently and then sputter out an apology if you’ve overstepped.

Frankie chuckles. “Nah, I’m glad we can talk about it.”

That comforts you.

“And yeah, thankfully everything worked out.” Frankie grins sleepily. “I’m still really sorry you had to hear that.”

“No worries! And like what you just said, I’m glad I can be here for you. That’s what friends are for, remember?” You reassure him.

“Yeah, friends.” The way his voice hangs on the word friends gets tangled in your chest.

A quietness clouds the walk.

“So Gus tell you about homemade candy canes?” Until Frankie’s light voice breaks the silence and you laugh.

It might have been a slow start becoming friends with Frankie. But you’re glad, grateful, to finally arrive here.

Arriving at your farm you thank Frankie again.

“If it wasn’t so late I really would invite you in for that hot chocolate I’ve been promising you.” You sigh. You even begged Gus for a new pack just to be stocked up.

“Don’t worry about it. There will be another night, promise.” His words are gilded in a promise you want to treasure.

He suddenly says your name and now under the light of your porch, Frankie seems bashful as his eyes flicker around.

“I, uh, kind of have something for you.”

That takes you by surprise.

“Couldn’t give it to you earlier cause I know Mayor Lewis would’ve had my ass.” Frankie dryly snorts and then pulls out something concealed in the classic brown paper wrapping he uses at his shop.

“Happy feast of the winter star, little farmer.” He delicately hands it to you and your eyes feel as if they’re going to pop out any moment.

You cry in protest that he didn’t need to get you anything and guilt rushes in. You didn’t get him anything.

“Eh,” he shrugs. “No pasa nada.”

You’ve only caught small bits of him speaking Spanish before and now hearing him speak so casual sounds beautiful.

Unwrapping the surprise gift, you discover he got you an iridium bar and you inhale sharply.

You haven’t even been able to forge one yet. The most precious, coveted, type of metal bar and he just casually gave one to you right now.

“Francisco Morales, this is too much!” You shriek.

He laughs buoyantly and loud at your reaction.

“Trust me, it’s not. Besides, seen how hard you work. How much you do for me and the town. You deserve it.”

You don’t want to get emotional, but the tears clogging your throat say otherwise. Those tears and the bubbling emotions, gratitude and all other shades of thankfulness, overtake you. Before you can stop yourself you rush to Frankie and collide into him.

You hug him best as you can but realize what you’ve just done. You don’t even know if he’s okay with close contact like this.

Immediately Frankie wraps you in his arms and squeezes you back. He’s all encompassing, beautifully so.

Your mind, your thoughts, everything melt as you embrace him back.

“Thank you.” You earnestly tell him.

“Anytime.” Frankie whispers back.

You would never tell Frankie this… but your winter star wish came true because you couldn’t have wished for a better way to bid such a sweet farewell to this season here in the valley.

#oh I needed this today #here’s to more Stardew sweetness and magic!! if you read thank you so much blacksmith Frankie and I are giving you a stardrop #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #blacksmith!frankie morales #frankie morales x f!reader #seasons of you fic series #Frankie 🤎#pedrostories

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