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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

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Addicted to You

Part 1: The Chain

Summary/Author's Note: As the sister of veteran turned freelance for hire Santiago "Pope" Garcia, you grew up close to his friends and ex-military squad. Frankie Morales always had your heart, in the same way you always had his--the two of you just never seemed to get the timing right. Trying to escape the violence of a military career based family, you turned to journalism and humanitarian work in war torn countries. But three days ago your crew was ambushed and after three days without any contact, Pope is getting the guys back together for a rescue mission. (Follows Canon events very closely with added character and liberties) Thank you to @winters-buck for headcanoning with me about Frankie and getting me pumped up enough to write this.

Pairing: Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Pope's sister!Reader Word Count: 4.6k (idk what happened...) Warnings/rating: (NC-17)/18+ Language, smoking, implied drug use, PTSD, sex/smut, kidnapping, blood, violence, threats, fluff and feelings

MASTERLIST

Present Day Somewhere in Texas, USA

Santiago "Pope" Garcia had always had a talent when it came to lying, but never had that talent been used so willingly on his closest friends. He was a good bluffer. It had helped his career in the military with his superiors, it had helped him on their weekly poker nights, but he had never planned on getting the five of them back together to boldly lie directly to their faces. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the locker room as Will looked him over skeptically.

"What did he say?" Will asked, straddling the wooden bench and crossing his arms to mirror his friend.

"He's taking a look at it," Pope sighed, taking off his hat and running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. "He may not be up for this."

Of course he was talking about their friend Tom. Tom, code name 'Redfly' had been their captain back in the day, their leader, and his brutality and no bull shit attitude made him a good one. Pope knew if he wasn't on board with this, then Will would be out, and the rest of them would drop like flies before this even began.

"You know he's the best with something this complex, and he needs this right now," Will said and Pope agreed with a silent nod.

Beyond the concrete walls of the locker room a cheering crowd could be heard albeit muffled. Both men turned and looked in the direction of the noise before Will shook his head and leaned forward on the bench.

"This shit is fuckin depressing," he said.

"Come on let your brother have some fun. Support him." Pope offered with a wave of his hand like Will's brother getting the shit kicked out of him for a couple hundred bucks wasn't a big deal.

"I've been supporting him since the day he was born." Will pointed to the wall that stood between them and the mixed martial arts arena. "That kid's a one in a million talent, going out there playing the fucking clown to a bunch of hillbillies."

Pope started to respond but the door opened and a man dressed in nothing but loose fitting shorts and the med tape wrapped around his hands entered.

"Where are my boys at?!" He yelled in a deep voice like an announcer and threw his hands in the air.

"Benny! There he is!" Pope embraced him before patting him on the back and passing him off to his brother who stood up from the bench.

"Hey, shithead," a familiar voice said in Spanish and Pope turned around to see Frankie, a wide grin on his face.

Frankie "Catfish" Morales, known mostly by 'cat' or 'fish' to his friends, was probably the closest thing Pope had to a best friend. Even though it had been two years since they had last seen one another, Frankie looked exactly like he always did. His dark curly hair stuck out under his trademark, ratted, ball cap. His lips held a full mustache while the rest of his face had what was probably week old scruff and the brightest smile of the group. It didn't hit him until they were embraced in a tight hug just how much he had missed the man.

"How' you doing?" Pope asked, patting him on the shoulder.

"Hanging in there, I guess." Frankie nodded, finally letting go and moving to sit on the bench opposite of Will. "Is Tom coming?"

"Yeah, he said he would be here," Pope nodded looking at all of them in front of him. "You assholes get my texts?"

All of them looked in various stages of guilt, rubbing the back of their neck, adjusting their ball cap, not meeting Pope's eyes. Of course they had gotten his texts and by the tension in the room none of them had responded.

"Yeah," Frankie finally broke the silence. "Yeah I got your texts."

"And? I need a pilot." Pope looked at his best friend.

"I don't do that anymore, man." Frankie shook his head and sighed. "Besides, I lost my license."

"I don't need a pilot with a license, I need a pilot I can trust. And that's you." Pope pointed at his chest and held his gaze.

Frankie rubbed his hand over his face and stood up, leaning back against the lockers and looking up at the ceiling. "Will, you in?"

"I told Pope, if Redfly was in, then so was I." Will turned his sights to his friend and shrugged.

"And what about you, Benny?" Pope said, asking the man who had been quiet the longest.

"Of course I'm in."

Pope ruffled his short, dirty blond hair roughly with a smile and a word of praise and Benny shoved him away with a grin.

"Fuck," Frankie sighed and shook his head. "So, what's the job?"

"Can we talk details later? It's fight night--I got other shit to think about." Benny pleaded, looking around to the other three as the crowd cheered again through the concrete walls.

"Sure, wouldn't want you to be late," Will scoffed and stood, offering a hand to his brother and helping him up off the bench. The three men left the locker room and started down the concrete tunnel that led out to the arena. Benny was in front, holding his fists out in front of him like a true heavyweight and mumbling what sounded like a well rehearsed pep-talk to hype himself up.

Frankie and Pope hung back a few steps beside the other two, falling into step with one another like they shared the same brain. The other boys often joked that they did. Frankie put his hand on Pope's shoulder and rubbed his own beard in thought before he broke the silence.

"So, I got busted. That's why my license lapsed. It's not a big deal." He let the sentence hang in the air before he shook his head and sighed. "Okay, so it is a big deal."

Pope turned and looked at him. "Coke?" When Frankie nodded in agreement Pope rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Cat."

"It's still pending. But I'm clean now--I swear."

Pope nodded as they kept walking. He believed him. Frankie was a man of his word, and he knew he didn't have to prove anything to him. If he said he was clean, then he was clean. And cocaine or not, Frankie was the best damn pilot he had seen in his entire career, he wanted him for this job. No one else was going to cut it. Not when the objective was this important.

"Hey," Frankie said, trying to act casual but sounding anything but. "Have you talked to (y/n) lately? How--uh, how's she doing?"

There it was. He had to hand it to him, it took him longer to ask than he would have thought, but where it was normally endearing how much Fankie was still in love with you, this time it made Pope sick to his stomach. Did he tell him? He should tell him--even if it was just him. It was the right thing to do. Instead, as they approached the arena, the lie fell from his mouth.

"She's uh--she's good. Took a job down south, but I haven't heard from her this week." It wasn't a total lie. Pope didn't look at him and he could feel his friend staring intently at him.

Frankie let it go, even though his expression said he didn't want to. "So, what is this job really? What aren't you telling me?"

Pope looked over his shoulder, "It is what I said. Simple recon. We can talk details after the fight."

"Sure, whatever you say, man," he shook his head as they walked into the crowd and Benny greeted Tom with a cheer and a hug as the taller man started passing out beers he had just gotten from the concession stand. "I'm in." Frankie said flatly and walked passed Pope, taking a beer from Tom and giving him a clap on the shoulder.

Pope stopped short and watched the other man smile and interact with the rest of his friends. Frankie was his oldest friend, and lying to him hurt worse than that time he was shot down in Peru. Frankie had been in love with you for as long as he could remember, and if Pope was being honest with himself, he was the only man that deserved you and that he trusted to take care of you. He thought you guys would really make it work, and the day you called it quits hurt him too. Why wouldn't he want his best friend to take care of his sister? Protect you when he couldn't? Make sure you spend the rest of your life happy.

The four of them sat in the front row as Benny walked up the steps to the raised fighting platform, ducking under one of the ropes and bouncing around like there were springs on his feet. Pope looked back at Frankie and when the other man smiled, Pope returned it but it was a lie. He knew he was going to be crushed when he found out why the gang was really back together. When Frankie found out you were missing, nothing was going to stop him from getting you back--that's the real reason Frankie was the most important part of this crew. Because just like Pope, Frankie would get you back...or burn the whole country down trying.

Two years earlier

It was just supposed to be drinks and pool, maybe some darts if he talked you into it--you were a terrible shot and it made him laugh until his eyes watered. Frankie had asked you to go to the bar while he was in town and you had happily said yes. You missed him. And by the look on his face you knew he missed you too.

It was never awkward when you were with Frankie. No matter how much time had passed, as soon as the two of you were back together it was like picking up right where you left off. Gentle touches, knowing each other's drink order, holding hands, it was all so natural. He opened every door for you, bought every seven and seven you ordered, and paid for every round of pool, shoving more quarters into the metal slot and racking up the balls the second the previous game ended.

The first part of the date ended when Frankie tried to teach you how to do a trick shot in the corner pocket. He leaned his pool cue against the table and stood behind you, wrapping his arms around yours and putting his large hands over yours on your own pool stick. He smelled like fresh air, like the woodsy smell of recently cut grass, clean earth, and just a hint of campfire smoke--musky and comfortable and safe. He spoke in your ear telling you where to aim, and even though he had to speak over the other patrons and the juke box it felt like he was whispering just for you. When he pressed himself against your ass, your body erupted in goosebumps. He must have felt it too because he asked, "Wanna get out of here?" And all you could do was nod.

The both of you fumbled into your apartment, he barely got the door closed by kicking it, as you dropped your purse and keys on the floor and started unbuttoning his shirt. Of course all of this would have been easier if either of you could pull away from each other's lips, but that wasn't happening.

"Bedroom or couch?" You said as you shoved his shirt off of his shoulders.

He grabbed the hem of your own shirt and pulled it over your head in one smooth motion. "Both." The two of you laughed and kept kissing as he walked you backwards towards the hallway. "Kitchen. Floor. Shower." He kissed you after each word and you blushed, laughing again at his suggestion. This was the Frankie you remembered. This was the Frankie you fell in love with.

"Got big plans for this weekend, do ya?"

"Yup," he bent slightly and gripped the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. "And they all involve you."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him hard on the lips. His tongue slid into your mouth like it had so many times before, exploring, tasting, moaning softly into you. He knew where your bedroom was, walking down the hall like he lived there and nudging the door open with his hip. Some summers, back when both of your lives were simpler, it was almost like he did live there. He had his own drawers, his own side of the bed, and you made sure his favorite coffee was always in the cabinet.

"Frankie," you breathed against his mouth and his grip tightened on you. You slid your fingers into his hair, removing his ball cap and tossing it behind you.

"Tell me, baby," he mumbled back, putting you down on the bed and crawling over your body.

"I missed you," you said and he froze, looking down at you with those enchanting brown eyes.

He swallowed hard and tried to slow his breathing. "I missed you, too."

The both of you took a moment just staring at one another. He leaned down and gave you another soft kiss before moving to trail his lips down your jaw, moving to your breasts and unclipping the snap in the front. He took each of your breasts in his hands, squeezing and kneading them as you closed your eyes and carded your fingers through his hair again. When he took one of your nipples between his teeth you gasped, arching your back off of the bed and holding him against you.

"You still like that?" He mumbled, moving to the other nipple and repeating the motion, sucking it into his mouth along with as much of your breast as he could. The feel of his teeth against your skin was exquisite and you could have let him do what he was doing all night.

"What do you think?" You laughed as he moved from your breasts down your stomach, biting and kissing his way to the edge of your jeans. "You always were a boob man."

"For your perfect tits? Absolutely." He undid the button and zipper, grabbing opposite sides of your pants and underwear, shimmying them off of your hips.

"Charming." You scoffed, raising your hips to help him as he stood and did the same to his own.

"You always thought so."

He knelt on the bed, stroking his half hard cock before he fell on top of you, making the mattress bounce gently. You gripped his shoulder and rolled him over onto his back, enjoying the surprise on his face and the absolute adoration as your breasts hung directly in front of his face. He started to raise up to put them in his mouth again but you pressed his shoulders back into the bed.

"My turn," you grinned and he nodded, letting you move down his body, kneeling off to the side.

As soon as you wrapped your hand around his dick, his eyes fluttered closed. You worked him slowly before bowing your head and letting some saliva pool in the front of your mouth and letting it drop slowly onto the head and down the shaft. Your hand worked the liquid down, making it slide easier as you pumped him.

"Fuck, (y/n)," he sighed as he watched you. "You're killing me."

"You still like that?" You asked, playfully, mocking his earlier question and he chuckled.

"Smart ass."

You smiled again before taking him in your mouth and you revelled in the way he moaned softly and slid his hand into your hair at the back of your head. You bobbed in tandem with your hand, working the entire shaft as you sucked the head of his cock and his grip on your hair tightened. You took as much of him into your mouth as you could, your lips meeting your fist and a small sound escaped you as he hit the back of your throat. He thrusted up involuntarily and when you gagged slightly, he opened his eyes and looked at you worriedly.

"I'm sorry," he breathed and you shook your head, continuing to suck him off, running your tongue along the large vein that ran the length of him. There was no apology needed, you were just as desperate to remember his body as he was yours. He held out for a few more pumps, rock hard in your hands before he sat up and grabbed you by the arm. "Come here. Come here, baby."

You let him pull you to him as he leaned his back against the headboard and pulled you into his lap. He reached his hand between the two of you and ran two thick fingers along the slit of your pussy.

"Shit," he cursed quietly as he felt how wet you already were. He loved how quickly you were ready for him, it had always been like that. He could have you dripping for him before he even got you undressed and he loved reaching up your skirt or your dress and feeling you against the lace of your thong. "You're so wet."

"You love it," you said as he continued to stroke you and you straddled his hips, putting his arms around his shoulders.

"Always have," he said and it was in a voice tender enough that you weren't sure if you were talking about the same thing any more.

You leaned up on your knees as he took his cock in his hand and lined it up between your thighs. You lowered yourself on to him, sinking down slowly and letting your body adjust to his length. He throbbed inside of you as you paused, letting yourself adjust to his girth. The stretch was intense and you wanted it to last forever, feeling every inch of him as the bottom of your thighs touched the top of his and you settled in his lap. Your fingers found their way into his dark, soft hair. It was a little longer at the ends and you liked the way it curled around his hat, but that hat was currently on the floor with the rest of your clothes so you could touch the soft locks as much as you wanted.

"You ready, baby?"

You nod and hold him close, your breasts pressing against his chest, your foreheads coming together as he wrapped his arms around your waist. "Fuck me, Frankie. Please, please." You whisper the last few words over his lips as he started to thrust up inside of you.

You both released a contented sigh at the same time and it made you smile. Even in your worst days, it always felt like you and Frankie were in sync, two halves of a whole. How your body had missed him, missed the soft way he said your name and the way he held you close to him like he wouldn't be satisfied no matter how close you were.

"I missed you," he said, closing his eyes as he guided your hips up and down, rocking against him as your stomachs brushed together.

"You said that already," you smiled, moaning softly as he hit a particularly sweet spot deep inside of you.

"And I'll say it again," he grinned, pressing his nose against your cheek and kissing your lips.

"Charmer," you kissed him back, soft and slowly.

He dipped his head and kissed your neck, sucking along the soft skin of your throat. You wanted him to leave marks like you both were in grade school, making out in the back of the movie theater, kissing in the bed of his truck, back when things were simpler. His arms tightened around your back as you nosed his hair, breathing him in and kissing the top of his head.

"Fuck," he cursed quietly as you ground your hips down on his lap. "You feel so good, baby."

"Don't stop," you moaned softly in his ear as he picked up the pace. "Harder, Cat, harder, please."

He held you tightly as he looked up and put his hand on the back of your neck. "Look at me." You opened your eyes and leaned back slightly to look down at him with heavy eyes. "God damn, you're so beautiful," he whispered and it made you blush. You kissed him hard and slid a hand between the two of you, frantically searching out your clit as his thrusts started to get sporadic and uneven.

"I'm gonna cum, Cat-" you watched as he looked at you and nodded encouragingly.

"Come on, baby. Give it to me. I got you," he panted close to your face as his cock hit the end of you, pumping up inside of you.

Your orgasm took you suddenly and completely. Your mouth opened but no sound came out as you clenched around his cock and squeezed your thighs around his lap. You felt the heat rise up from your core to the rest of your body in a way that made you curl your toes against the bedspread. You threw your head back and groaned out your pleasure to the ceiling, his name falling from your lips with sweet ecstasy as you clung to his shoulders.

He followed right behind you, spilling himself inside your cunt, the feeling of him hot and wet around his cock and starting down your thighs. He thrust hard, and spaced out, a few more times, grunting a mixture of his pleasure and your name with each movement.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed, leaning back against the headboard and pulling you against him.

You pressed your cheek against his chest, breathing hard as you ran your hand up his neck and played your fingers against the scruff along his jaw. He was still inside you and you clenched your thighs again, an afterthought of a muscle twitch left over from your orgasm. It made him groan again and tighten his grip on your hips.

"Sorry," you laughed softly and he chuckled.

"We still got it, don't we?" He asked, looking down at you with a boyish grin.

"I never had any doubts." You crossed your arms on his chest and laid your head on top of them, looking up into his eyes. You shivered as he lifted your hips slightly and his softening cock slid out of you and you both got more comfortable. It was definitely quicker than the two of your normally liked it to be, but after being apart for so long, you had a feeling anything that happened tonight would be desperate and fast.

He dipped his head and kissed you softly, each kiss punctuated but a soft pop in the silence of your bedroom. He brushed your hair away from your face and smiled.

"You want me to head out soon?" He asked, trying to hide the fear in his face of the possibility that you would make him leave.

"No," you said quickly, shaking your head and staying firmly planted on top of his lap. "No, stay the night. Please." You added the last word sweetly and his face relaxed.

"Sure thing, sweetheart." He nosed your hairline and kissed your forehead.

You knew this couldn't last. You knew he was leaving tomorrow for another mission, another pilot seminar, and you were headed upstate for your job as well. You loved Frankie Morales with all of your heart and he felt the same way--life just always seemed to have other plans. And yet, life was just as cruel as it was sweet because somehow, someway, it always brought you two back together.

---

Present Day Some where in the jungles of Columbia

You weren't sure how long you had been traveling. In fact, when you thought about it, you didn't know much of anything. You twisted your wrists in a desperate attempt to relieve the pressure the zip ties were leaving on your skin.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you whispered, leaning your head back against the side of the van. The bumps and potholes in whatever shitty road you were on caused the back of your skull to bump against the metal. How had this happened?

The last few days had been a blur. You and a group of journalists were having dinner in a local village. You had teamed up with a group of doctors and, in between travel, were lending a hand providing basic medical care to anyone who needed it in the surrounding towns. You cut bandages, gathered clean water, played soccer with the children, and took photos to add to your collection and publish when you got back to the States. It had been a pretty uneventful trip, enjoyable actually, until Lorea's men had shown up. No one seemed to know what the dangers narcos drug lord would be doing in a place like this.

Before you knew what was even happening, there were guns pointed at your crew, men yelling in Spanish that you only vaguely understood, and you raised your hands above your head shouting back, pleading them to calm down. Did they want money? No, that would have been too easy, and as a traveling journalist that dabbled in humanitarian efforts, money was not something you had a lot of anyway.

A rather large man grabbed you by the wrists and even though you struggled, even though you screamed, it didn't make any difference. A hand on your head made you duck as you were shoved into a van along with a few of the others on your crew and the door slammed shut behind you.

"Stop, stop," you tried as the van revved and pulled away down the street. "You don't have to do this--" The man who grabbed you ignored your words, if it was because he didn't understand English or because he didn't care, you weren't sure.

He jerked your wrists in front of your body and wrapped the zip tie around them, pulling it tight. Your heart was beating way too fast and you could feel the blood rushing in your ears and on instinct you pulled your hands away from him and screamed again, turning towards the door. He yelled something in Spanish and pulled his arm back before punching you in the side of the face. Your world exploded into flashes of white as you hit the floor of the van. With the wind knocked from your lungs, you gasped for air and coughed, your eyes burning with hot tears.

The man driving turned and yelled something over his shoulder, obviously upset at his partner for roughing up the merchandise. Your stomach felt nauseous and the last thing you remember was some kind of scratchy material being put over your eyes and the rest of the world went black.

Tag List: @stevieharrrr @zeldasayer @winters-buck @seawhisperer If you wanna be tagged, lemmie know!

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal #pedro character fic #santiago garcia #frankie catfish morales

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