Warnings: Pretty graphic descriptions of what it’s like when I have an asthma attack. They’ve been happening a lot and I wish Frankie was there, ok? This is my indulgent lunch break drabble. (Asthma attacks are so different for everyone. This is a lot of what mine are like, not what it is like for everyone.) Don’t read if you feel uncomfortable. I just need some Frankie TLC.
this is frighteningly detailed—I don’t have asthma, so I’ve never experienced what you described, but I can feel the panic in your writing and it’s so visceral, which just makes Frankie’s intervention all the more powerful. I love how you allude to Frankie’s deep worry hidden under that calm, collected surface. this is wonderful. what a wonderful partner Frankie would be in a time of crisis
ClickKeep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says ’creator chooses not to use warnings’. You also agree that you’re the right age to be consuming anything here.
You are not happy and Frankie knows it. Feeling his gaze on you repeatedly as he takes the exit for the gate that he is leaving from. Not that you could really get into it again, not with Elise and Tomas in the back seat. The baby, Tomas, deciding that he would start screaming halfway between home and the airport, not happy that he was the slightest bit hungry and he was not immediately fed.
Trying to shush him and get your four-year-old to prop the baby bottle up for her brother was a task in and of itself. Blowing out an exasperated breath as you have to reach back and hold the bottle steady while twisting your body in a way that makes a stitch in your side.
For@writer-wednesday even though it’s now Thursday. (shhh, I won’t tell if you don’t!) Frankie’s weekly hike leads to finding an unexpected friend Warnings: I don’t think there are any, but let me know if you want me to add something. Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist
It had started as a fun thing to do with his daughter on visitation weekends. Little grabby hands in his hair while she sat on his shoulders rambling about her kindergarten classmates, and almost every leaf, bug, and the woodland creature she could see. Hiking was simply a good way to get outside, to teach her some of the things his dad had taught him, poison ivy– leaves of three let it be, and all that good stuff. It was well worth the bruises from her tiny kicking feet on his chest, to see his kid learning to see and love the world around her.
Summary: After joining the boys as a much needed team medic, the tension between you and Frankie becomes to much to ignore.
Word count: 4.4k.
Warnings: Masturbation (male & female), P in V sex (unprotected), Oral (Fem receiving), Fingering, Yearning, Pining, Two idiots in love and trying to ignore it, Use of restraints (consensual) swearing, and Benny Miller being Benny Miller.
I have not beta read this! I wrote it in a few hours, I’ll check for mistakes tomorrow.
Thank you @frannyzooey for being so helpful, and helping me with a few things my ass struggled with when writing this.
You shouldn’t be staring. You should NOT be staring. He is your teammate, and he is your friend. But fuck. The way the droplets of rain drip down off of his curls and down on to his face is mesmerizing. The way the raspy texture of his voice seems to go straight to your core and make you drip with arousal every single time he speaks is mesmerizing. You’ve gotten to the point where you fear that he can smell your arousal every time he’s close to you, and you’ve actively started to avoid laying your sleeping bag to close to his through worry he’ll be somehow able to see that you dream of him every night.
He’s caught you looking a few times and he downplays it with a simple smile or a wink, the obvious embarrassment rushes to your face with an immediate blood rush. You’ve felt something for him since meeting him that very first day, but it has continued to intensify, and that tiny flame has formed into a full wildfire.
The sound of Santi barking an order at you pulls you out of your daydream. You gulp loudly and the vacant expression on your voice is enough for him to repeat himself, “What has gotten into lately?” nothing unfortunately you think to yourself, “We are making shelter. Get some water boiling and some food. We’re camping here.” You nod in agreement and swing your head around just enough to see Frankie, it’s his time to stare at you and he’s doing it intently. Head slightly tilted and mouth open as he takes in the flushed look on your distracted face. You quickly turn to your day pack, pulling out the set of small fuel cannisters and pots – lighting all four – and filling them all with water and adding ramen noodles to two of them.
You’d joined the group a year or so ago, their previous mission being a complete disaster which resulted in the death of one of their friends, Tom. You’d reluctantly allowed Santi to bring you along to a meeting in which the guys had seemingly only come along to because he was in another one of his ruts after the hell-mission. But they’d noted how he’d become a lot more responsible with planning and kept his word to be one hundred open with them from the off-set and you were a huge part of his newly found responsible turnaround as an ex-army medic that was on a much-needed sabbatical from your trauma residency he’d decided that you’d be a welcomed addition to the team.
Having seen combat and being able to deal with gunshot wounds, stab wounds and so on in not so ideal places you were exactly what was needed. The hell-mission had three gunshot wounds, one of which was fatal, and he’d decided then and there that someone clinical was a necessity for their group. So, there you were. Tucked away in the corner of the booth, wedged between a very interested and flirty Benny and Santi – trying to avoid gazing into the most gorgeous deep brown eyes you’d ever seen unaware that one year on, you’d be in the exact same situation.
The sound of Frankie, Benny, Will and Santi laying out your bed for the night kept you from falling back into another daydream, listening as they slightly argued and groaned at each other – all frustrated, hungry and tired from the insane amount of walking you had done for the past twelve hours after successfully completing your mission, all eager to get home.
You fill cups with tea and evenly dish out the noodles before calling them over to eat with you.
They form a circle around and murmur their thanks as they begin to dig in, and you stare idly into the bowl in front of you, not hungry enough to eat. “Did she look at your leg yet, Fish?” Will asks before shoving a large forkful into his mouth and you look across to Frankie who’s shaking his head at Will.
“You’re hurt?” you ask with a confused expression etched across your face, unsure why he’d hide this from you seeing as that is the reason you’ve been bought along.
“It’s fine. It’s nothing.” He says with a shrug avoiding eye contract.
“You got stabbed in the thigh, dude, that’s hardly ‘nothing’.” Benny counters back and your face flushes red with fury.
“You got stabbed, and didn’t tell me? What the hell am I here for? Because I sure as hell, didn’t agree to this just to make you guys’ dinner!” You yell across at him – shocking yourself and everyone else at your outburst, “I don’t know if you don’t trust my skills as a doctor, Frankie, but I’m more than capable.” You all but throw down your bowl of noodles before getting up and skulking away, ignoring the voices behind you as you strut away from your teammates and out of the little shelter and into the rain.
You stand outside being drenched by the rainfall, stood far enough from the guys to let the frustrations of the past week leave you. The mission was to retrieve information in regard to a huge incoming weapon shipment from a cartel that had singlehandedly been flooding the streets of Bogota with illegal arms for months. You’d kept guard with Benny earlier that morning as Frankie, Will and Santi stormed the building, only a few of their guards had remained and they’d successfully retrieved the information before destroying every computer, phone and electrical device that had been serving as the tools to communicate with the citizens they’d been bribing in the city.
You’d thought that it had been a total success but clearly, you’d been kept in the dark about everything that had transpired.
The rainfall had left you shivering and soaked, completely wet through and you sighed at your own stupidly; aware that you’d probably not be fully dry again until back at the hotel. The feeling of a large palm gently resting on your back makes you audibly gasp out-loud.
“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you; I called your name, but you didn’t respond.” Frankie says almost sheepishly, “Fuck, you’re drenched, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, I-uh- I needed to step away.” you say whilst staring at your shoes.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. And, I have complete faith in your skills. I think you’re amazing. I just didn’t want to burden you; you’ve been a little… stressed the past few days.”
“We’re all stressed, Frankie, you’d still done your duties. Mine is to make sure you’re all safe, you should have told me immediately. A stab wound isn’t nothing.” Your voice comes out a lot harsher than you had intended it to and you immediately regret the way you come across, “Look, I don’t want to argue or yell at anyone, I just want to be doing my job.”
You feel a wave of guilt as you look over at him and noticed that he himself is now completely drenched through and before you get a chance to apologise, he reaches out a hand for you to take and leads you back to your shelter.
“Fuck,” Benny mumbles at the sight of you both shivering and soaked, “Better get changed before you both catch your death. And let her look at your leg, dumbass.”
You pull open your backpack and start desperately pulling everything out in search of dry clothing, finding fresh underwear and dry pants but falling short at a fresh shirt. You groan in annoyance at your own stupidity. Frankie having watched you manage to find everything, but a dry shirt reaches back into his and pulls you out a spare one of his and tentatively hands it to you along with a reassuring smile. And you offer him a heartfelt thanks before returning the smile.
You look over at Benny, Will and Santi who are all caught up in conversation by the fire and watching the rainfall outside the shelter.
You retreat behind one of the two privacy partitions and hastily get out of your drenched clothing, making sure to squeeze the water out of your hair before getting dressed in your dry clothes.
The boys are still in deep conversation as you come back out and grab your medical bag before walking over to the other partition and asking Frankie if it’s ok to come check his wound.
Dressed in just his boxers, a shirt and a sweater you try not to let him see how affected by him you are and instead concentrate on his injury. He’s perched down on a rock and you sit in between his legs having perfect access to his cut.
He’d hastily packed the wound with gauze and wrapped a tight bandage around it and you sigh at the image, fresh red blood still staining the skin around it. “The moment I cut this off, it’s going to gush, Francisco,” you say with another sigh, “you must be in agony.”
“It’s fine,” he grunts back as you take your safety scissors and start to remove the bandage, “A little sore.”
You instruct him to hold a bunch of fresh gauze against the wound as you get out your antiseptic wipes to clean the cut, “It’s going to sting a little” you warn as you signal for him to remove the gauze. He hisses as you gently wipe across the jagged cut, it’s not as deep as you were anticipating but it’s deep enough to require tissue adhesive. He winces in pain a few times and your free hand reaches up to his hip to give it a reassuring squeeze before dropping down so you can treat him the best you can. After you glue the wound the best you can, you gently access the area – running your fingertips slowly across his smooth skin.
He lets out a ragged breath and your eyes shoot up to his, he stares back into yours with an intensity that makes your core throb. You swallow hard as you look away, your line of sight automatically looking down and you see it. The affect your touch had on him, his cock hardening at the feeling of your fingertips gently grazing his skin, the feeling of your hot breath of his skin as you focused on his injury.
Your eyes flash back up to his and he’s still staring at you, the look in his eyes desperate and hungry, “I want you too,” he says barely above a whisper, confirming he’s been well aware of why you’ve been on edge the past few days, “Have been wanting you for a very long time.”
The sight of you on your knees in between his legs, biting down on your lower lip becomes almost too much to bare, he lets out a small grunt in frustration before reaching across to roughly palm himself over his boxers. A gentle moan escapes through your lips as you watch in desperation, desperate to reach out and take him in your hands, in your mouth… anyway you can.
His other hand grips the bottom of your chin and tilts your face upwards; he continues to palm his hardened length as he moves his face down towards yours. His nose bumps yours and he stills, eyes locked into one another’s, he awaits your confirmation and the moment you give it, his lips crash on top of yours. You cup his cheeks as his tongue dips into between your lips, tasting the inside of your mouth with fervour. You moan into him, embracing the way his tongue works tirelessly to explore your mouth. “Frankie,” you murmur up against his plush lips, “I need you.”
“Me too, baby. The minute we get back to the hotel, I’m going to make you feel so fucking good.” His forehead rests gently on top of yours as you fight the urge to reach down and take him into your hands, “Soon.” He whispers as you look back down at his throbbing erection.
The sound of footsteps make you both hastily break your embrace, you quickly covering his now closed wound with an adhesive bandage before he pulls on his dry pants.
“Will he survive? What’s the verdict, doc?” Santi asks as he pokes his head around the partition.
“He’ll be fine… As long as he doesn’t hide anymore injuries from me in the future,” you say shooting him a little wink and he holds his hands up in mock defeat, “Cuts closed, and I’ll put a fresh dressing on it before we leave tomorrow morning.”
Shoving your medical pack back into your backpack, you feel him gently press a fleeting hand against the small of your back and he flashes you a smile before joining the guys around the fire. After a few moments you decide against joining them as lack of sleep is gaining on you.
After brushing your teeth, you pick up your sleeping bag and announce to the team you’re going to sleep. They all wish you a goodnight and you lay your sleeping bag on the mat nearest to your partition, facing away from the boys. You trace your fingers gently over kiss swollen lips, as your thighs clamp together at the vivid imagery of him palming his cock for you replays over and over in your head.
Sleep doesn’t come as quick as you’re hoping, instead you lay there listening to the boys tease each other and reminisce over past missions… they all agree at the same time to get some sleep.
Not looking over your shoulder you hear him, laying his sleeping bag down next to yours and you smile at your shared need for closeness. Barely above a whisper you hear a small, “goodnight, sweetheart” murmured in your direction.
Morning arrives and the sounds of the rainforest fill your ears, the lack of rain a welcomed surprise. Frankie, Santi and Benny are still sound asleep, Will sitting up in his sleeping bag and looking out at the jungle. “Morning,” you murmur voice still thick with sleep, “Should be back at the hotel in a few hours.”
“Good morning,” he returns with a nod, “Yep, back to reality.”
Boiling water and cooking oatmeal had become your morning routine and you eagerly begin – desperate for a caffeine fix. “If I never have to eat oatmeal ever again after today, it’ll still be too soon,” you groan as you stir the pots it’s cooking in.
Frankie wakes up next and his loud stretch makes you giggle, his face swinging around in search of yours as he greets you with a knowing smile.
“Morning, Fish,” Will grumbles from across the room, “Better wake the sleeping beauties if we want to get out of here this morning.”
Stomachs filled, and flasks filled with coffee – you all pack up your supplies and put on your backpacks and start to make your way out of the rainforest. Santiago had arranged with a contact for a car to be dropped off about two hours away from where you’d set up camp, and as you dredged further through the muddy forest you began to see the coastline in the distance signalling you were close.
It took more restraint that you’d care to admit as you saw the truck waiting for you, the keys had been hidden above one of the tires and your heart sank as Will went to retrieve it under the one that had been agreed upon and it wasn’t there. The mad rush as you all stepped forward to try and find the missing keys almost comical and the shared simultaneous sigh of relief when it was found under another tire made you audible giggle. Wasting no time all bags are thrown into the back of the truck without any care whatsoever, Benny volunteers to drive and Will calls shotgun.
Santi climbs in first followed by Frankie and yourself. The feeling of Frankie’s hand brushing up against the side of your leg makes you breathe out a ragged breath. Unable to ignore the ache that had started that very first night after he’d helped you over a risky looking bridge had gotten stronger and stronger, magnified by one hundred as you’d shared your first kiss the night before.
The drive back to the hotel was hell-ish. Benny wasn’t the most careful driver at the best of times, and after a week in the jungle surviving on little sleep, he unsurprisingly didn’t get any better. With every sharp turn he made you found yourself pressing up against Frankie and vice versa, at one point he’d driven so recklessly your hand gripped Frankie’s thigh so tightly that he groaned out loud – not in pleasure, but in pain as you fisted his knife wound without intent. “Shit” you hissed as guilt flooded your whole body. His flattened palm shifted beneath the bottom of your thigh to give you a reassuring squeeze as you apologised profusely.
The moment you saw the hotel you breathed out the loudest ‘thank goodness’ you’ve ever uttered and practically swung the door open… both in anticipation and relief.
As the other guys stood around discussing the plans for the afternoon, you reached into the back of the truck to pull out your backpack. Biting your lip, the moment he purposely pressed up behind you to grab his own stuff, “My room, shower, five minutes,” he ordered in your ear before quickly removing himself for your space.
You all but ran up to your hotel room, discarding your bags as quickly as you could and rummaging through the suitcase that you’d left there before venturing out on your mission – pulling out clean underwear, a sundress and toiletries.
Your room was on the same floor as the rest of the guys, five doors up from Frankie’s – you took the time to check it was clear before padding down the hallway to his room – you pressed the door gently and it swung open, steam from the shower already coming out from under the bathroom door.
You locked the door behind you, stripping yourself down completely before entering the bathroom.
He was facing the tiles in the shower, already dripping wet – the broadness of his shoulders, his strong arms and the firmness of his cute little butt made you lick your lips. You watched for a few seconds as he washed the shampoo out of his gorgeous brown curls and then you slipped in behind him; wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing gentle kisses to his shoulders.
“Was wondering when you were going to get here,” he mumbles, before spinning around to face you, “You kept me waiting.”
“Hardly” you say with a large grin.
“You’ve been teasing me for over a year,” he says with a wink before stepping back to take a look at you, he looks up and down at your bare form – eyes tracing back and forth over your breasts, “Fuck, you’re perfect” he grits out before reaching out and taking one of your breasts in his hand to test the weight of it.
You squeeze up next to him and press yourself against him as tightly as you can, relishing in the little groan he lets out as you do so. Stepping under the steaming spray of water you wet your hair and he watches every movement you make, silently admiring as you shampoo and condition your hair, and as you begin to wash the grime off of your body. Only moving as your eyes lock onto him and your fingers brush down through the small curls on your mound and dip into your slit.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he warns before ripping your hand away, “I said I am going to make you feel good when we got here… don’t make me restrain these pretty little wrists now.”
His words cut through you like butter, and you mewl at the thought he’d planted in your head.
“Out of the shower and get on the bed, now” he orders, and you obediently comply to his demands, making sure to press yourself up against him one more time on the way out.
Your still dripping wet as you lay yourself down on the edge of his bed, watching as he slowly emerges from the bathroom – his cock rock hard and heavy swinging between his legs as he makes his way over to you.
“Look at you,” he says quietly, “Fuck, baby, you’re absolutely perfect” he moans out whilst beginning to stroke his cock.
You salivate at the sight, the way he’s staring down at you with an untamed hunger and providing himself with a little relief as he does so. “Open those legs, baby, I want to see.”
Moving back a little more on the bed, you lean back onto your elbows and open your legs slowly, giving him a full view of your glistening cunt. Already soaked with arousal, and clenching around nothing with need.
“Frankie,” you whisper as he continues to jerk himself off whilst taking you all in. “Please, Frankie” you repeat as you hand unconsciously falls downwards towards your slit and you start to rub small circles into your clit to provide yourself some much needed relief.
“Uh-oh, baby girl,” he grits out, “I warned you.”
You immediately retreat your hand and start to apologise, “I couldn’t wait” you stutter.
“Poor baby” he says with an exaggerated pout, “Always got be such a fucking tease.”
“I need you, Frankie,” you whimper as he walks away from the bed and towards his backpack. Bending over to grab something from the side pocket, “Please, babe.”
“Sssh, baby” he soothes as he walks back over to you, you can’t quite make out what he has one in of his fists, “I intend on giving you all your pleasure today, baby, and if you can’t keep your hands to yourself then I’m going to have to restrain them” he drops a quick kiss to your forehead and then presents the long black cable wire to you, “Safe word – jungle, say it once and I’ll rip it off immediately” he says before making you say out loud you understand and consent. His hands are gentle as they bring yours together, and he ensures that the restraint is not too tight or causing you discomfort before playing your hands above your head.
“Keep them there” he orders before bending down on to his knees and slowly running a finger through your slit, “Been dying to know how you taste” he murmurs before licking a wide strip through your folds making you mewl in pleasure, and without thinking your hands whip down to find their way into his hair, “What did I say?” he grits up at you as you realise your mistake.
“Sorry,” you whisper before moving them back to their original position, “Didn’t think.”
He shakes his head at you, “Naughty girl” he says before burying his face back between your legs, he licks a few more wide strips down from your entrance to your clit, before focusing on that bundle of nerves. Groaning in approval at your desperate pleas and pleasured moans. Just as he feels your thighs begin to shake, he thrusts two thick fingers inside of you, pumping in and out as his tongue continues its delicious assault over your clit. The moment he feels your walls begin to flutter and clamp down around his fingers he curls them inside of you and continues to lick furiously as your orgasm rips through you. Cumming hard with a loud gasp of his name, “Francisco.”
“Good girl,” he soothes as you writhe underneath him, still high from your orgasm, “Love it when you call me that, baby.”
“N-need you,” you gasp out still unable to form a coherent sentence as your chest heaves up and down, “Please.”
“Fuck, so needy, baby” he teases as he slides his cock through your puffy folds, “Going to fill you up with my cum now, sweet girl.”
The thickness of his cock makes you gasp as he slowly breaches your entrance, he’s slow, making sure to study your face the entire time and make sure it’s not too much for you, and when he’s sure he’ll inch himself in further and further whilst murmuring sweet nothings about how beautiful you look and how well you’re taking his cock.
The stretch of him makes you bite down on your bottom lip, the slight stinging remaining present but being burned out by the pleasure, when he’s almost fully inside of you – he brings his thumb down to your clit and slowly rubs little circles into it.
He groans loudly the moment you’re filled by him, the feeling of you clenching around him making him worry he’ll blow his load immediately.
“Relax, baby,” he soothes quietly, “You’re gripping me so fucking tight, baby.”
“Please, move” you whimper in reply.
He rocks his hips in and out, just a little, barely moving an inch in and out at a time, and then he picks up the pace. Biting down on his lip as he searches for that sweet spongey spot inside of you and groaning in pleasure the second, he realises he’s found it, his pace quickens - rubbing against that spot perfectly, hitting it every single time and revelling in the way your eyes begin to roll back as you start to cum around his cock.
“You look so fucking good like that, baby. Going to tie those pretty little wrists up every time that you backtalk me, princesa.”
“Is tha-that a promise?” you choke out as blinding pleasure rips through you, “Fuck, I fucking love your cock, Francisco” you can’t help but choke out everything going through your brain, “I need it… need in my mouth after, baby, please can I suck your cock?” your words become more and more incoherent as you clamp down hard around his cock, flooding around it as you cum hard with another scream of his name.
He thrusts as much as he can grunting loudly as his spend paints your walls, “Fuck, baby, fuck.”
The pulls out of your still fluttering hole and watches as his spend spills out with your arousal.
“Fuck.”
You giggle at the look on his face as he continues to watch your pussy, “So fucking pretty,” he murmurs.
He climbs over you and pulls you into a passionate kiss, his hands working quickly to break yours free of the cable ties and the moment they’re free you tangle them in his still wet locks.
“This is the start of something spectacular, I think” he says before kissing you again, “Rest up, baby, we’re not leaving this bed for at least the next few days.”
He pulls you into his strong chest and you nuzzle into him, “I hope you’ve got more of those cable ties, Francisco.”
Summary: You hit the online dating lottery when you meet divorced Frankie Morales.
Word count:1.2k
Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)
Content Warnings: Vasectomy kink (aka the opposite of breeding kink), unprotected PIV
A/N: I was inspired to write this after the enthusiastic response to this little drabble. In real life, I wouldn’t recommend being quite this trusting lol. It is not stated whether reader or Frankie have children from their previous relationships, so read it however you prefer!
You fumble with your keys. Frankie’s hands on your hips and his lips on the back of your neck are a serious distraction.
You won the online dating lottery with him. You’ve been divorced for five years now and back in the dating pool for three. You’ve have had some good dates and some truly terrible ones.
When you saw Frankie’s app profile you were immediately taken in by his soulful brown eyes and easy smile. You talked for an entire month before your first date – first on the app, then texting, and then on the phone.
The sound of his voice did things to you.
You had wanted to take things slow to make sure you had a real connection. After a month, you were sure you did.
Your first date was perfect. A relaxed dinner at a comfortable restaurant – neither of you were particularly fancy people. You talked and laughed late into the night. After, Frankie pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek after walking you to your car. Your hands shook all the way home.
On your second date, you went to a movie. Frankie twined his fingers with yours on the shared armrest between you. You barely remember the plot as your attention was zeroed in on the feel of his fingers, the warmth of his palm, the way his hand fully enveloped yours. He walked you to your car and asked if he could kiss you. You readily agreed. It started innocently enough, but soon you were chasing his tongue with your own and fisting your hands in his hair.
Tonight is your third date and, even though it’s cliché, tonight is the night you plan to “go all the way” or whatever the kids call it these days. You wouldn’t say you rushed through dinner, but you certainly didn’t linger.
Summary: Signs!AU. It started off in the most bizarre of ways. Crop circles. You mean the bother of cleaning up someone’s stupid prank? But then the lights come—hundreds, thousands—floating menacingly above the cities. The panic starts to settle in. Full summary here…
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader
Warnings: angst GALORE - like i’m not even kidding i cried sm, swearing, supernatural themes, thriller/horror, violence, guns, talk of death & suicide, a death i cried over, violence/injury towards an animal i also cried over, blood
Word count: just over 5.5k
A/N: Hi howdy hey. ok i was delayed and i have no excuse - i just got distracted watching suits baha. ANYWAY, here we go. Sadness everywhere. Enjoy. Also, the song playing (you’ll know when you get to the part) is Billie Holiday’s “I’ll Be Seeing You” because that’s a damn beautiful song.
It’s another fucking splinter in your fingers keeping your mind from spiralling, the pain of it just enough to help contain the budding hysteria building in your chest.
You ignore addressing the persistent sting of it, instead holding firm against the thick plank of wood as Frankie hammers harshly against it, nailing it into the window frame. The length of timber stretches across the glass window and stops the sun shining through the pane, blocking your view of the outside.
Only when he steps away with a carved frown of vigilance, gaze critically observing the other windows that you finally move to pinch at the small splinter, a brief wince flickering across your features before your thumb rubs along your skin. The hammer picks up again, and your attention is pulled to him, eyes following the sweat that beads along the back of his neck and soaks into the collar of his shirt.
The drill had died a few windows ago, and Frankie hadn’t bothered to waste time charging the battery. He’d moved so quickly, so ruthlessly. You’d never seen this kind of expression before.
He’d torn his shed to pieces—your half restored dining table now rested legless and nailed over the back door. Chip’s kennel had been ripped apart, the various shades of red that used to be his vibrant roof now secured across the kitchen windows.
Nothing survived his mission: the coffee table Chip had chewed when he was a puppy, the old fence panelling, the scraps of tin from a long torn down workshop—it all came into the house, each memory filled item relentlessly nailed and screwed over any flicker of the outside world. Your home quickly lost its warmth with each boarded shut window, stripped of its feel of familiarity and comfort—security. Now it was the only thing in the way, one last layer of protection, of whatever was to come.
The echoes of Benny and Will moving about upstairs fill the silence beyond Frankie’s hammer, along with the light jingle of Chip’s contact tag rattling against his collar as he moves about the house in vague interest, his ears rising and dropping with each new scuffle of movement.
He soon retires from his curiosity, and instead comes to flop beside you with a long sigh, tail lightly slapping the hardwood when you bend to run a soothing hand through his fur.
“Upstairs is set. Although we ran out of wood in your bedroom, so that’s the weakest point. We’ve moved your bed in front of it.” Will says as he comes down the stairs with Benny following closely behind.
Frankie shoots them an appreciative smile. “Thank you… for helping us. You didn’t have to stay—”
The brothers reply in unison.
“Shut your stupid mouth—”
“Of course we did—”
It’s a small moment of normality, with smiles being shared so easily, and you cling to it even as they grab their bags and walk to their truck. Frankie appears from the remnants of his shed, carefully dumping a duffle bag in Will’s backseat and flipping it open to show the older Miller brother the few rifles Frankie had kept locked away.
Will immediately frowns at him. “The hell are you doing? We’re not taking those, you—”
“We’ll be locked up—you still need to get a four hour drive in. Chances are you’ll run into trouble before me, and I’d feel better knowing you’ve got the shit you need to make it safely.”
Will goes to argue, but sighs deeply knowing Frankie’s distinct stubbornness, and merely nods in thanks, stepping forward to embrace his friend tightly.
The sun starts to burn the back of your neck as you stand in the driveway and watch them, the gravel stabbing through the thin bottoms of your slippers as a distinct dryness claws at your throat, a bubble of a cry threatening to break free as the final few items are tossed in the bed of the truck.
Benny’s all smiles when he turns to you, but you see the stirrings of worry crease the edges of his expression. He swallows, bright eyes falling to the ground before his strong arms wind around you and tighten to the point you struggle to breathe. The thought hits you as soon as his face presses into your shoulder—
Is this the last time you’ll see them?
It has you returning the strength of his hug as much as you could, pressing as much love and gratitude for everything he’s done for both you and Frankie into the embrace.
Will soon takes his place as they swap over, his large hand cupping the back of your head affectionately and you can’t help the quiet sniff when he finally steps away a few moments later.
Benny’s eyes shine with the threat of tears but he stays firm, his jaw rolling to hold them in as he gazes at you both.
“I’m not sayin’ goodbye,” he mutters firmly after a moment of silence.
Will shares his sentiment with a quiet nod, cheeks straining with the effort of keeping the small smile curled on his lips.
“So…yeah.” Benny turns and gets into the truck, keeping his gaze stubbornly locked on the dashboard.
“Take care.” Will says, delivering one final affectionate slap to Frankie’s shoulder before walking around the truck and sliding into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life and soon they’re pulling away.
“Are they going to make it to her in time?” You ask quietly, watching the dust swirl as the brothers disappear down the driveway, the squeal of their tyres hitting the asphalt of the highway only just reaching your ears as they speed away.
Frankie’s arm curls around your shoulders and you cuddle into him, pressing a warm kiss to his throat. His voice is strained when he answers, thick with emotion and your hold tightens.
“I hope so. Come on, let’s go and get the old man.”
——
You flutter through the door, barely taking a second to acknowledge Harry before you’re up the stairs, calling out questions about his prescriptions and where he keeps his overnight bag. Chip bounds up the stairs after you, Harry watching on with a fond, barely there little smile. Frankie crosses the threshold, stopping in his tracks when his eyes roll over the man.
Harry looks… polished.
There hadn’t been a single day Frankie had seen him out of dirty stained overalls, smeared with earth and sweat and paint and whatever else the man had busied himself with that day. His skin is clean of oil and dirt, his clothes are pressed and neat, he’s even wearing cologne.
“Nice suit, old man.” Frankie mutters finally, voice catching in his throat as Harry shuffles over to his recliner.
He smiles, his aged face wrinkling with the stretch of it, and something about the way it sits so naturally in his expression has a budding unease building in the pit of Frankie’s stomach. Something’s off. He pushes the feeling away, instead moving for the old jacket hanging on the coat hook and stepping towards him.
“They’re saying we’ve still got a bit of time, so I think we should get comfortable at our place now. We’ve barricaded the windows and the back door, I’ll nail up the front once we’re in.”
“You think it’ll hold?”
Frankie feels the twitch of a muscle by his mouth and Harry nods, sensing the wave of dread from across the room.
No he doesn’t think it’ll hold, but it was worth a try. Maybe if they saw the house all boarded up, they wouldn’t bother. It’s wishful thinking—if they’re as hell bent on invading as the so-called ‘experts’ said, a bit of wood wouldn’t stop them, but he didn’t dare say a word when you quietly suggested it.
“I’m not leaving, Frank.”
Frankie exhales sharply, fingers tightening around the coat. “Harry, don’t do this right now, alright? Just get up.”
He wasn’t hearing it—not today, not right now.
Harry had always been stubborn, and ninety nine point nine percent of the time Frankie found it endearing—often playing along with Harry’s sharp attitude with an easy smile and humour which seemingly melted the ice king into somewhat of a paternal figure over the years… but not today, with tensions running high and his nerves shot to the fucking roof. He just needed his family safe.
“No.” Harry says simply, resting his elbows on the arms of the recliner and overlapping his hands over his stomach. “I’ve made my decision, and I’d like you to respect it.”
Frankie snorts, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “And what decision is that, huh? You gonna stay here all by yourself and let whatever’s coming get to you? You gonna go down that easy, old man?”
“No. I’ll do it myself.”
“Dowhat?”
Harry’s gaze moves to the stairs, where echoes of you sound from where you move about, no doubt rifling through his medicine cabinet and packing away his usual medications. He didn’t want you around to hear this. Frankie watches him silently, teeth picking at the soft inner skin of his lower lip.
“I have no interest in living through this, Frank.”
Frankie frowns, a wave of shock rolling through his body. What does that even mean? He wantsto die? Where the hell is this coming from?
“Harry—”
“I’ve lived a damn good life, Frank.”
God no… no, please—
“Harry—”
“It’s alright, son.”
“No. She won’t leave you here. I won’t leave you here. Come on, this is stupid. We won’t let you do this.”
Harry heaves a soft sigh, lips curling softly. “This is what I want, Frank.”
“No. No, it’s not. You’re coming with us, and we’re gonna stay together, alright? You can give up—it’s fine. You can give up, but we’re not letting you die alone, okay? We’re not. Damn it, Harry, you can’t do this to me, to her—”
His knees hit the floor, and he pushes through the sudden feeling choking his throat. His fingers curl into the rough fabric of the chair, and he’s no longer fighting for himself, or Harry. It’s you. You’d spent more time with your neighbour, helping with appointments and medication and laundry and anything he ever needed—Harry was the world to you. You’d be devastatedleaving him behind.
He can’t let you go through this. He won’t. Not when everything already seems so bleak.
“Harry, please—please just…”
“Thisiswhat I want, Frank. I want to die on my own terms. Let me have my dignity. Please.”
“You shouldn’t be alone for this—”
Harry chuckles quietly, face so open and warm it creates such a sudden sense of home. A hand, rough and calloused and comforting, rests on Frankie’s hand and gives it a light, affectionate tap.
“I’m not alone, son.”
Frankie’s eyes fall to the vintage gold frame next to the recliner, taking in the aged black and white photograph and the young faces of Harry and Gloria huddled together under a shower of confetti. She had passed before you and Frankie had moved in, but there was no shortage of the stories Harry would tell you on the warm evenings on his porch.
“So this is it, huh?” Frankie swallows the thickness building in his throat, heaving a long, low sigh before moving his gaze back to meet Harry’s. “This is what you want?”
The man nods, and Frankie feels defeat creep along his shoulders.
“You’re gonna break her fucking heart, Harry.”
“I know.”
You appear then, Harry’s small overnight bag in hand. Frankie stands, and he can’t bear to look at you just yet. He keeps his eyes fixed on the old rug, taking a few deep breaths to calm the flood of anguish filling his system. Would you hate him after this?
“Are you ready?” You ask, a smile tugging at the edges of your lips. Harry stands, taking your outstretched hand and returning your small smile.
“I am, love.”
You smile at his words, but only Frankie understands what they truly mean. He tries to prepare; tries to get his thoughts and emotions in order before it happens and you’re left heartbroken and reeling. Would you even understand?
Harry pauses on the porch and you gently come to a stop when you feel the tug at your hand. You watch his eyes roll over the fields, thinking he just needed a few minutes to take it in before hiding away in your home.
“She would’ve loved you.” Harry says quietly after a few moments, and your eyes roll to meet his.
Gloria?Your brows twitch a little in confusion at his words, but you shoot him a little smile. “I’m sure I would’ve loved her, too.”
Harry hums, taking another moment of silence before speaking again. “Take care of my girl, Frank.”
Frankie appears at your side, jaw tight and dark eyes shining. “Yes, sir.”
Harry turns his attention to you, squeezing your hand softly. “And you take care of my boy.”
Your confusion grows. “Harry, I don’t understand—”
“It’s gonna be alright, love. You’ve got each other. Now off you go.”
“What? No, y—you’re coming with us.”
It’s obvious. Isn’t it obvious? Your frown deepens, your eyes darting to Frankie but he refuses to meet your gaze. What did he know that you didn’t? Your gaze flies back to Harry, anxiety starting to creep along your nerves.
“Youarecoming with us… right?”
“Not today, love. I’m staying here.”
“The hell you are—”
You don’t mean to raise your voice at him, but it’s just all so stupid. It’s fucking stupid. He should want to be safe. He should want to be with his loved ones. What was left? The invasion… it was happening, whether he wanted to address it or not. He couldn’t stay here, it was certain death—
Harry’s unwavering gaze hits you square in the chest. You feel like you’ve just taken a fist to the stomach. Your mouth opens, but you can’t seem to form a coherent sentence. You couldn’t just leave him here. Not to endure whatever was coming alone.
“Well… we’ll stay here then—”
He’s shaking his head before you even finish your sentence. “It’s my time, love. I’ve decided what I want to do. It’s alright.”
What he wants to do? What does that even mean?
“It’s not—”
“I’ve made my choice. I’m going to be with my sweetheart, you need to be with yours.”
“But I—”
You stop, finding yourself with nothing to say to change his mind. You look to Frankie for some help, silently begging him to say something, but deep down you know it wouldn’t matter. You couldn’t, and wouldn’t, force him. You didn’t want the last moments between you to be full of anger and resentment because you made him do something he didn’t want to do, because you ignored his wishes and made him die the way he didn’t want to.
A tremble overtakes your bottom lip, and you inhale to calm the threat of sobs building in your chest, carefully putting his bag down by his feet.
“Okay,” you whisper weakly, “okay. If this is really what you want.”
Harry nods, his rough hand squeezing yours one final time before he releases his grip. You let Frankie help you down the steps, your eyes unable to move from Harry where he stands watching you go with a small comforting smile.
You’re almost to the truck when you can’t help but break free from Frankie’s hold and run towards the house, quickly advancing up the steps and wrapping your arms tightly around your neighbour.
He returns it just as strongly, murmuring a quiet reassurance before he sends you on your way, waving one last time to Frankie. You don’t dare to look away from him as Frankie drives away, turning you head and watching him fade from view through the back window, and when you get home, you strain your eyes to look in the distance and find he’s no longer standing on his porch.
——
You refuse to call it a last meal.
Even while cooking, you refused to acknowledge the strange finality hanging in the air as you moved about the kitchen, preparing whatever dishes you could from ingredients found in the cupboards. Maybe it was just something your mind tried to distract you with, to keep your thoughts from running and focusing on the losses you had already suffered today.
Frankie sits opposite you, soft eyes rolling over each dish before speaking quietly, “I want to pray.”
Your eyes fly to his face in surprise. He’d never been into religion, apart from the Sundays his mother would take him to church when he was younger, so his quiet declaration was unexpected, but you quickly school your features before his gaze moves to yours, and you smile softly.
“Whatever you want, baby.”
He swallows, almost nervously, his tongue running along his lips before he reaches forward to take your hands. He feels so out of depth. He hadn’t prayed in years. Did this make him a hypocrite? To only turn to God when it’s too late?
He stays silent, lips pursing in thought.
“I’ve forgotten how these fucking things go.” He mutters, cheeks finally creasing with a grin when you giggle tiredly at his words.
“Well I don’t think that’sright.”
He’s quiet for another moment longer before his voice starts a quiet prayer, and you take a quick second to admire his face in the low candlelight while his eyes are closed. You follow the curve of his nose, trace the patches of dark facial hair running along his jaw, watch the way his soft lips move with each word and your heart grows heavy in your chest.
So beautiful.
You feel emotion bubble up in your throat as his words melt in your ears, asking whoever could possibly be looking down on humanity—if any—to ensure you were kept safe and unharmed, to spare you from any pain and suffering and to find peace no matter what happens.
Your fingers tighten around his. “What about you?”
One eye snaps open and focuses on you, “What about me?”
“I don’t want Heaven if you’re not there. Make sure He knows we’re a package deal. Chip, too.”
He snorts, eye closing and grin widening. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”
Your eyes finally close, and you sigh lightly. “Well it does with us.”
The food’s cold by the time you get around to eating it, but neither of you mind. Frankie keeps up most of the conversation as you pick at the food, keeping you present and focused on the now and not what’s coming. It feels almost normal. It feels like the world isn’t ending, even if only for a little while. You both ignore the dishes and the mess leftover, instead moving to the lounge room where the radio plays soft melodies.
The radio stations had long been abandoned, with everyone running to be with their loved ones, but they had set up playlists until it could no longer play. Loss of service would be the beginning, they had said. A part of you hopes the music will never stop.
“Can we… can we dance?”
It’s your watery eyes that have him nodding, his hand immediately reaching out to curl around yours. He tugs until you’re pressed against him, your face buried in his shirt and he breathes you in, eyes scrunching shut and devoting every sense to remembering the smell of you, the feelof you.
His lips trace whatever skin he can reach, his hands cradle and cup and roam. Long moments pass before he even remembers your request, and so he starts to sway, the muscles in his jaw straining as he fights the building lump in his throat.
“I should’ve danced with you more.” He whispers regretfully, cheek resting against the side of your head.
You shake your head, pulling gently away to gaze at him. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“I would.”
“No,” you shake your head again, smiling despite the tears that build along your lash line. “Everything was so perfect. I’m so—I’m so happy to have found you, Frankie. What we have… I’m so thankful.”
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He murmurs, sincerity ringing through his statement as a warm hand cradles your cheek softly.
A gentle heat washes along under your skin, and you turn into his touch with a soft chuckle, eyes fluttering closed as his rough thumb brushes softly over the skin under your eye, swiping away the lone tear you didn’t even know had fallen. Lips press against yours and you melt into his kiss, smiling against his lips.
“Ditto, Mr Morales.”
Static cuts through the air.
It’s an abrupt end to the soothing music that had just been filling the room, and he feels the way you shift, the way your breathing starts to accelerate and how you start to tremble in his hold. He hates that there’s nothing he can do.
“I’m here,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
“God, I love you so fucking muchFrankie—”
“I know, baby. I know. I love you.”
A creak sounds from the front of the house, the usual quiet groan of the timber porch adjusting under body weight filling your ears like the thunder of a jet plane engine. Frankie’s head turns to the boarded up front door, his crushing hold keeping you tight up against him.
Your voice is shaky, and muffled against his shirt as your fingers dig into his chest. “They’re here.”
Chip confirms your words, the heckles along his back rising as takes a protective stance in front of you both, a series of sharp fierce barks tearing from his throat as a shadow passes by the slither of daylight peaking through the cracks in the barricaded window.
You jolt with a cry at the sudden gunfire.
Harry.
Bile builds in your throat but you swallow it down, chest heaving with the effort of fighting the sobs threatening to break free. Was that it? Was that him taking his decision into his own hands? You hate to think of your elderly neighbour ending his life, but maybe that’s better than waiting for whatever will happen…
It’s okay.
He’s gone. He won’t suffer anything now. He won’t suffer, he won’t—
Another shot.
Only this time, you can hearhim after it. He’s yelling, his hoarse aged voice filled with fury and melting through the walls and then you’re fighting for Frankie to release you, rushing to the door and resting your hands against the wood in desperation.
He’s out there.
Did he change his mind? Did he want to be with you both?
“Harry?!”
You know he can’t hear you, and yet you can’t help but call for him. Your hands bang against the wood, your fingers curl around the edge of the timber and pull, but the nails beaten into the edges hold firm. You’re incoherent, words falling in a mixture of confusing pleas as your head spins, your gaze anxiously flittering over anything you could use to pry the panel away.
“Frankie, we have to open the door!”
Another shot, and you can’t help the pained cry that joins it.
“Harry!”
You listen to him shout, tears slipping free from your eyes and sliding down your cheeks as his demands of whatever’s lurking around your house to leave you alone sound through the door.
“Frankie,come on—!”
He’s staring at the door when you quickly turn to him, to beg him to find the hammer and rip this stupid fucking barricade away so you could get to Harry and pull him in to safety, but he stays motionless. A single tear falls, followed by another, and then another, and yet he still doesn’t fucking move.
His gaze flickers to meet yours, and you see the swirling quiet apology filling his eyes behind the hard determined edge to his expression.
No he won’t open the door.
As much as something in him screams at him to run to Harry’s aid, he refuses to gamble with your life; refuses to have you potentially torn away from him with no hope of return. He didn’t know how many… thingswere waiting outside the walls.
He runs it all through his mind, calculating every hypothetical situation with trained efficiency.
He knows where Harry is from where he had heard his voice, he knows how quickly he could get to him without anything in his way… but then what would happen to you? To Chip? Chip would undoubtedly follow him right into the thick of it. You would too, even if he begged you to stay behind… and then where would that leave you all? Out there, in the open with no cover or safety, for them to pick off as they pleased.
No.
It’s not happening.
You barely even realise how deathly silent it’s gotten. You still pound at the timber, still scream for Harry and beg for Frankie to open the door. Why won’t he open the door? Harry’s out there. Harry’s out there, and he’s alone, probably terrified—
A warm body presses into your back, Frankie’s rough hands winding around your wrists to gently bring your hands to a stop. Lips press softly against your temple, his voice quiet against your skin.
“He’s gone.”
“No—”
“He’s gone.” He repeats firmly, softly moving your hands away from the door until they’re cradled against your chest.
You don’t get a chance to mourn, to grieve. They come back. They scratch against the door and it’s almost taunting. They circle the house, they bang against the windows, and Chip doesn’t know which way to face, where to direct his attention. Frankie moves you back away from the door, his eyes hard and jaw set as the banging gets louder.
“They’re… they’re just making noise.” You whisper shakily. Why aren’t they trying to break in? Where’s the force?
He doesn’t reply, but he knows what they’re doing. He’s played these games before, worked these strategies. One team to distract, one team to infiltrate. He turns his attention to any noises behind the random banging, catching the faint hint of scratching of something above.
“They’re on the roof.”
You nod, seemingly in a daze, and turn in his arms. “Okay. It’s okay. I love you. Frankie, please look at me.”
He does immediately.
“I love you.”
He swallows, staring into your watery eyes and tracing your cheek tenderly with the back of his hand. “I love you.”
“At least we’re together.” You murmur, tears finally falling. He doesn’t have the strength to talk, but he nods in agreement. He’s happy you’re here, happy that you both came back together in time and that you weren’t somewhere alone for this.
Glass smashes on the upper floor, followed by the sudden weight of something hitting the floor and Frankie whips around to face the stairs, keeping you shielded behind him. They’re in the house. They’re in the fucking house—
Chip loses his nerve and starts to whine, backing up uneasily from the stairs. He hears your quiet whimper, feels the way your fingers grasp and tighten at the back of his shirt. He works his jaw as he strains his ears to listen to the muted thuds above you, eyes watching the stairwell and waiting, waiting for whoever—or whatever—will come down.
Was this really how he goes?
Was this really how he lets yougo?
No.
He whirls away from the stairs and grabs your hand, whistling sharply for Chip to follow, pulling and shoving you through the kitchen until you’re in the pitch-black stairwell of the basement. He urges you down the steps, waiting until Chip slips through behind him before slamming the door shut and bracing himself against it.
“Baby, what—”
“I’m not dying. Not today. We’re not—” he’s muttering and you can barely hear him over the sound of your heart thundering away in your chest, “no. I’m not ready. I’m not—I’m not ready. I don’t want to go.”
He’s trembling as he holds onto the door handle, and you move forward until your face presses into his back. You wind your arms around him and shush him gently, “It’s okay. It’s okay,baby.”
“No, no it’s not. I’m not ready. I haven’t asked you to marry me. I haven’t… god, there’s still so much I want to—fuck!”
And then the door’s shaking and Frankie’s bearing down on the ground, holding tightly onto the door handle and pushing against it to keep it closed with everything he has. The abnormal clicking sounds through the only thing keeping you separated from them and you run your hands desperately over the dusty shelving trying to find something to help as Frankie grunts behind you.
Chair. There’s a busted chair down here somewhere—
Your ankles hit something laying on the ground and you quickly grab it, dragging it over to the door and letting Frankie jam the back of it hard up under the door handle. The door rattles, the force behind it increasing with their urge to get through, but it stays firmly shut and you both exhale in relief. You find the torch that you had just passed over, flicking it on and giving it a little shake when the old battery struggles to light the bulb.
“Are you okay?” Frankie asks after a moment, dark eyes locked on the door as the banging lessons until it’s just a random thud every now and then. They’re doing it again.
“Yeah. Are you?”
He ignores your question. “When we moved in, did the realtor say anything about external access to the basement?”
“Uh, I think—”
“Where?”
You swallow as his hard eyes fix on you. “There’s a coal chute. The previous owners blocked it up, though.”
“Where?”
You lead him around the shelving and shine the torch towards the far wall, the bright beam running along the aged brick until it suddenly bathes Chip in light. His tongue lolls out of his mouth when he sees he’s got both Frankie and yours attention, his tail picking up an excited little wag. The chute was right behind him, a soft breeze playing through the grate and gently rustling his fur.
“Frankie—”
Chip‘s startled yelp fills the basement as a hand materialises out of nowhere and wraps around him tightly.
You scream for him, dropping the torch to the floor as both you and Frankie rush forward. You wrap your hands around Chip’s body, pulling against the hold around his neck with a sob. You dig your nails into the unnatural leathery feel of it, the pained hiss from behind the grate your only warning before it moves wildly for you.
You fall back just out of reach and quickly drag the solid weight of Chip with you, the soles of your shoes slipping with your hasty shuffles backwards in an effort to move away from the chute.
Frankie appears from the side and aims a harsh foot at the flailing arm, his grunt and the distinct sound of breaking bones filling the barely lit basement before the heavy slide of metal grating along the ground claws at your ears.
You don’t stop moving until you’re bathed in torchlight, not quite ready to stand and retrieve it as your heart beats wildly in your chest. You inhale and exhale deeply, burying your face in Chip’s fur and cradling him tightly as Frankie works away in the darkness, ensuring whatever he had slid in front of the chute held up.
It’s when you smooth a tender hand down the underside of Chip’s jaw, running along the softness of his throat do you notice it. Your hand feels wet, warm, and you shakily bring it into view, face falling at the bright red that coats your skin.
“Oh god, Frankie—h-he’s bleeding.”
Your words bring him to you immediately.
“Hey bud, you did so good.” Frankie coos hoarsely, dropping to his knees in front of you with a sharp exhale and moving to kiss the space between Chip’s eyes. “Good boy, it’s alright, let me see—”
His fingers pry between his fur, sweat beading and sliding down his temples while his chest heaves from the sudden burst of exertion. His blood rushes through his system, adrenaline firing along his nerves and he takes another deep breath to steady the slight shake in his hands. He finds the injury, his fingertips quickly soaking from the blood as it flows freely from the wound. It’s deep.
“Fuck. It’s—it’s okay. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.”
He tugs at the hem of his shirt, tearing a strip of cotton from it and pushing it to the wound, quietly encouraging you to put pressure against it. Chip whines softly, shifting in your arms but settling when you press kisses above his ears.
“I’ve got you, baby boy. It’s gonna be okay—we’re here.”
Frankie cups your jaw, Chip’s blood smearing along your skin, and he tilts your face until his forehead presses lightly against yours. “I love you.”
You breathe a gentle sigh of relief, eyes falling closed as his warm breath blows across your face. “I love you.”
——
I know I said June 1st I’ll stop using old lists but I prematurely deleted them so yoloo. New lists now in use lmao. Fill out this form if you want to join new lists xo
Pairing:TF Boys x F!Reader Wordcount:15.4K Warnings: trauma. self-hatred. alcohol/drug abuse (this is srs this chapter). reverse harem. fluids. insecurities. angst. smut. injuries from choking. mentions of hair. rough sex. barf. Summary:She spirals. Things get complicated. A/N:wow this chapter took A MONTH. a struggle indeed because it dealt with some serious triggering things that i wanted to get right. you may find it hard to like our girl here, but she’s been through a lot. My utter thanks to@frannyzooey who sent me constant encouragement and help me with transitions and clearing up so many confusing parts. my gal @krissology who sends the most horny thots and ideas for the smut and dialogue. she literally worked her ass off writing the most romantically delicious book so order it or perish. i hope you all like because your comments make my life
The thing about living with men running a criminal enterprise was that they could get their hands on anything: alcohol, speed, benzos, automatic weapons, Bengal tigers, vintage Quaaludes (which she doubted still worked). It wasn’t terribly surprising that their “doctor” would also give her whatever she asked for.
Of course, of course, Ms. Faire. Sounds great. I’ll have it delivered.
It had started with the birth control. Pope had readily agreed when she had asked him about needing a script. No further comment. He’d ducked his head, his cheeks glinting pink as he wordlessly handed her a business card.
“Just call him,” he muttered. “He’ll give you anything you want.”
Pairing: Francisco “Frankie” Catfish Morales x F!Reader
Word Count: 500
Warnings:M, 18+ MINORS DNI, Sex Worker!Frankie, implied other Triple Frontier Boys!Sex Workers, watch me make up shit about sex work, allusions to sexual acts, Frankie being a sweetie is its own warning, and feelings sprinkled in there for flavor.
Pairing: Francisco “Frankie” Catfish Morales x F!Reader
Word Count: 1900
Warnings:M, 18+ MINORS DNI, Sex Worker!Frankie, implied other Triple Frontier Boys!Sex Workers, watch me make up shit about sex work, descriptions of male and female bodies
Pairing: Francisco “Frankie” Catfish Morales x F!Reader
Word Count: 1100
Warnings:E, 18+ MINORS DNI, Sex Worker!Frankie, implied other Triple Frontier Boys!Sex Workers, watch me make up shit about sex work, descriptions of male and female bodies, allusions to sexual acts, Frankie being a sweetie is its own warning, some angst and feelings sprinkled in there for flavor.
Pairing: Francisco “Frankie” Catfish Morales x F!Reader
Word Count: 4900
Warnings: E, 18+ MINORS DNI, Sex Worker!Frankie, implied other Triple Frontier Boys!Sex Workers, watch me make up shit about sex work, descriptions of male and female bodies, oral sex (F receiving), female masturbation, fingering (f receiving), safe PiV sex, a touch of Feral Frankie, one ass slap, fingers in mouths, cum eating, some angst and feelings sprinkled in there for flavor.
Pairing: Francisco “Frankie” Catfish Morales x F!Reader
Word Count: 3500
Warnings:M, 18+ MINORS DNI, Sex Worker!Frankie, implied other Triple Frontier Boys!Sex Workers, watch me make up shit about sex work, descriptions of male and female bodies, allusions to sexual acts.
Oh he’s so dangerous, he knows exactly what to do to make her feel completely at home and cared for. And then offer her exactly what she needs! I wouldn’t struggle to say yes either.
Pairing: Francisco “Frankie” Catfish Morales x F!Reader
Word Count: 1900
Warnings:M, 18+ MINORS DNI, Sex Worker!Frankie, implied other Triple Frontier Boys!Sex Workers, watch me make up shit about sex work, descriptions of male and female bodies
It had been a rough day. The girls were uncharacteristically hard to handle which challenged the patience of both you and Frankie.
While Frankie bathed them, you were cleaning up the macaroni and cheese from the kitchen wall from where Rosie punched her bowl off her high chair. Then when he was getting them into their pajamas, you were picking their toys up from the living room floor and vacuuming all the day’s crumbs and dirt. And then when he was reading them bedtime stories, you were finally washing the dishes from dinner.
It had happened after breakfast. Frankie was out with Violeta, having some bonding time with his daughter as they went for a small walk around the neighborhood. With Rosie on your hip, you were straightening up your bedroom in between dancing with her and making her laugh. During a small break, you were standing in front of the full-length mirror and pointing to Rosie’s reflection, speaking excitedly to her making her giggle.
The smell of coffee and the absence of your husband’s body next to yours is enough to make you decide to leave the comfort of your bed. You still have a couple hours before the girls wake up for the day. Frankie’s cardigan is hanging on the closet door knob and you wonder if he left it out specifically for you. It’s your absolute favorite both on him and for you to wear for comfort. You slip your feet into your slippers and grab the sweater, pulling it on over your sleepwear of an oversized tank top that exposes your breasts through the armholes and a pair of panties.
As you quietly walk down the hallway towards the kitchen, the silence makes you curious. It’s obviously Frankie making the coffee but you don’t hear him moving around the kitchen at all. When you turn the corner into the room, you see why.
Summary: You hit the online dating lottery when you meet divorced Frankie Morales.
Word count:1.2k
Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)
Content Warnings: Vasectomy kink (aka the opposite of breeding kink), unprotected PIV
A/N: I was inspired to write this after the enthusiastic response to this little drabble. In real life, I wouldn’t recommend being quite this trusting lol. It is not stated whether reader or Frankie have children from their previous relationships, so read it however you prefer!
You fumble with your keys. Frankie’s hands on your hips and his lips on the back of your neck are a serious distraction.
You won the online dating lottery with him. You’ve been divorced for five years now and back in the dating pool for three. You’ve have had some good dates and some truly terrible ones.
When you saw Frankie’s app profile you were immediately taken in by his soulful brown eyes and easy smile. You talked for an entire month before your first date – first on the app, then texting, and then on the phone.
The sound of his voice did things to you.
You had wanted to take things slow to make sure you had a real connection. After a month, you were sure you did.
Your first date was perfect. A relaxed dinner at a comfortable restaurant – neither of you were particularly fancy people. You talked and laughed late into the night. After, Frankie pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek after walking you to your car. Your hands shook all the way home.
On your second date, you went to a movie. Frankie twined his fingers with yours on the shared armrest between you. You barely remember the plot as your attention was zeroed in on the feel of his fingers, the warmth of his palm, the way his hand fully enveloped yours. He walked you to your car and asked if he could kiss you. You readily agreed. It started innocently enough, but soon you were chasing his tongue with your own and fisting your hands in his hair.
Tonight is your third date and, even though it’s cliché, tonight is the night you plan to “go all the way” or whatever the kids call it these days. You wouldn’t say you rushed through dinner, but you certainly didn’t linger.
You finally get the key in the lock and tumble in through the open door. You throw your purse on the entryway bench while Frankie shuts the door and locks the deadbolt with a click.
You barely have a moment to register the heat in his brown eyes before he’s pressed you up against the wall, devouring you. He cups your cheek with his large hand and tips your face up to meet his. His other hand grasps at your waist.
You whimper into his mouth as your hands skate up his soft flannel shirt and into his softer curls. He rewards you with a moan and a grind of his hips against yours.
He kisses down the column of your throat and you tremble. His scruff scrapes against your skin and you know you’ll feel the burn for days.
“You should know,” he rumbles low against your neck in between kisses, “I haven’t been with anyone in a while, and I’ve been checked since. All clean.”
“Me too,” you gasp as he finds a particularly sensitive spot below your ear.
“Also,” he breathes, dragging his nose around the shell of your ear, “I had a vasectomy 10 years ago, when I was with my ex. I’m shooting blanks.”
Your knees give out and you slump against the wall with a gasp. Frankie pulls back, concerned. “Are you ok?” he asks, forehead creased with worry.
“Yeah, I uh… I’m fine. That’s just… really sexy,” you stammer, breathlessly.
“That I got a vasectomy?” he asks, confused.
“Umm yeah. My ex… he wouldn’t.” Even though he knew you didn’t feel well on hormonal birth control, he found every excuse not to have it done. It’s no wonder your sex life dried up shortly thereafter. It wasn’t the reason for your divorce, but it certainly didn’t help.
“That’s stupid,” Frankie says, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “I volunteered.”
You moan as your legs go out again and Frankie steadies you.
“Hang on, does this turn you on?” Frankie’s eyes light up with amusement. Soft crinkles appear at the corners.
“Maaaybe,” you admit sheepishly.
He chuckles and considers you with twinkling eyes. “So I should tell you that I made the appointment myself?”
“That’s so hot,” you whine, head falling back against the wall with a soft thud.
Frankie resumes dragging his lips down your neck. “I had it checked twice… 3 months after and 6.”
“Fuck, yes,” you breathe.
He nibbles across your jawline. “There was no trace of sperm either time.”
“Don’t stop.” You squirm trying the relieve the growing pressure between your legs.
“I can’t get you pregnant,” he whispers in your ear.
“Take me upstairs, Frankie. Now.”
“Lead the way, baby,” he chuckles.
You grab his hand and drag him up the stairs to your bedroom.
Once inside, you’re a tangled blur of buttons and zippers, clothes dropping to the floor as you hurriedly undress each other. Frankie is beautiful. You take a moment to admire his golden skin and soft tummy. His erection bobs eagerly between his legs and your pussy clenches around nothing.
You pull him down on the bed after you. His smooth warm skin slides deliciously against yours. He kisses down your throat to your chest, taking one nipple into his mouth while teasing the other with his thick fingers.
“Tell me more, Frankie,” you gasp as his attentions send jolts of desire through your body.
“It’s going to feel so good, baby. You’re going to feel all of me,” he mumbles into your breast. One hand trails down your stomach to between your legs.
“Don’t worry about anything.” He runs his fingers through your folds and lets out an appreciative moan when he feels how wet you are.
“Now Frankie. I need you now.”
He moves back up your body, claiming your mouth again with a wet, searching kiss. He lines himself up at your entrance and slowly presses inside.
Your eyes roll back in your head as he splits you open.
“You feel so good, baby,” he groans as he fully sheathes himself in you.
You roll your hips and squeeze around him experimentally. He lets out a low curse. “So do you,” you smile.
You drag his mouth down to yours as he starts to move. You feel every ridge and vein of his cock dragging against your walls with each achingly slow thrust.
His chest drags against your breasts and the muscles of his shoulders ripple and shift beneath your hands. You want to feel him everywhere.
He slides a hand between your bodies and circles your clit with his thumb.
“Yes… please… like that,” you urge him on in broken gasps. Soon you feel your walls fluttering around him and tightness coiling low in your belly.
“Come with me, Frankie,” you cry out as you tip over the edge. Frankie’s rhythm stutters and his head drops to your chest with a strangled moan.
You lay tangled up in each other as you come down from your orgasm, Frankie stretched long between your legs with his head on your chest. You scrape your fingernails lazily against his scalp and he hums in appreciation.
“You know, you said not to worry about anything, but there is something we might need to worry about,” you say softly.
Frankie looks up at you, brown eyes sleepy and confused. “What?” the deep timbre of his voice rumbles through your body.
“We may need to worry that we’ll never leave this bed.”
Summary: After joining the boys as a much needed team medic, the tension between you and Frankie becomes to much to ignore.
Word count: 4.4k.
Warnings: Masturbation (male & female), P in V sex (unprotected), Oral (Fem receiving), Fingering, Yearning, Pining, Two idiots in love and trying to ignore it, Use of restraints (consensual) swearing, and Benny Miller being Benny Miller.
I have not beta read this! I wrote it in a few hours, I’ll check for mistakes tomorrow.
Thank you @frannyzooey for being so helpful, and helping me with a few things my ass struggled with when writing this.
OH. MY. GOD. How am I supposed to sleep after reading this?! Those warnings caught my attention and the fic certainly did NOT disappoint. I’m going to be thinking about it for a long, long, LONG time. Dom Frankie with restraints? YES PLEASE. Love it ♥️
I’ll work my way through your masterlist as I find time ♥️
summary : There’s a new maid cafe in town, and Frankie and his friends had to check it out!
word count :1.2k
warnings : the reader wears a maid outfit, reader is thick :3 , implied age gap (not specified), no use of y/n, reader uses they/them, slight fluff!
comments : i actually wrote this for someone else, but since i don’t write for them anymore, i revamped it to fit Frankie! theres another old one that i would like to fit into one of Pedro’s characters but i’m still debating on who hehe lil sneek peek of it, picnic date! (also ill fix the divider thing at the end later sorry!)
Ben learned of a maid cafe that had recently opened, and that it had already received positive feedback the first week it was open, with customers stating that the cafe is pleasant, has great food, and the maids themselves are all pretty. So it was only natural for Benny to invite the guys to the intriguing cafe.
The moment they enter, two maids welcomed them, adressing them as ‘masters’. One of the two approached them with a welcoming smile, escorting them to their seats, dismissing themself after giving them the menu.
They paused to take in their surroundings. The walls are painted light pink, while the floor and ceiling are white. Surprisingly, despite the bright colors, the room feels welcoming and pleasant. The cream chairs and tables also help to pull the space together. There’s also a showcase of delectable desserts, including a variety of cakes and ice cream flavors. The waitresses themselves are dressed in different pastel colored maid outfits.
After a few moments, you approached them and introduced yourself as their maid. You go on to describe the cafe’s set norms as well as the various amusements guests can order, such as a photograph with a maid of their choice. After you’d finished talking, you asked the guys whether they were ready to order, and you took it when they said yes.
“This place is pretty legit, huh. I feel out of place here.” Will states, the others nodding in agreement. As the guys conversed, Frankie eyed you from across the room. The light blue outfit you wore fitting your form to a T. You were chubbier than the rest of the maids, but to Frankie, that just made it better.
“Quit it, you know you’re not allowed to make moves on the maids,” the others said, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“What? “All I’m doing is staring.”
“We all know you’re going to flirt with them as soon as they come back.”
“I’m not going to, but it wouldn’t hurt to look.”
“Suure, suure, oh wait! Isn’t there a way to request a photo with them? Why don’t you get one?”
“That’s a little excessive.”
“Oh, come on, it’s just a photo, what could possibly go wrong?”
The conversation came to a halt as they notice your figure approaching their table, laying their orders on the table. Every meal was cutely adorned, with sauces drawn in the shape of animals while the drinks sprinkled with edible glitter. “Wait, before you go, we’d like to request a pic with you.”
Frankie glares at Will, perplexed. “Of course, you can! One of each, yes?”
“Nope, only one, with him.” He triumphantly declares, pointing to a flustered Frankie. You smile lightly, informing them that the picture will be taken after payment is made.
“You. Are. Welcome.” Frankie looks at him, puzzled and slightly enraged. “For what? Embarrasing me?”
“Oh please! It’s a good chance to woo them.”
“Did you forget the fact that i’m not allowed to?”
“Forget the rules! They could be the one or something.”
“When did you get all sappy.”
“Relax, Fish. Just take the damn pic, Will’s paying anyway.” Santi suggests. “Wait, what do you mean im paying?!”
“It’s only fair; it was your idea, and you’re forcing him to carry it out.”
Will sighs, “Fine.”
As they ultimately delved into their meal, the topic faded from their minds. Frankie can’t help but be nervous. He hasn’t dated anyone in a long time, let alone someone like you. Innocent, young and cute, a mere opposite of him.
You visit the four men’s table after they’ve finished their meals, asking how their food tastes and offering them the check while you lay the empty dishes on the tray. You nod gratefully as you accept their pleasant responses and the check, remembering to smile as you depart from their table.
While waiting for their payment to be processed, your gaze is drawn to the man with whom you are about to take a picture. You take note of his features; his cap, which had been off while he ate, had already been reapplied, concealing his dark brown curls. His mustache was neat, yet his scruff was uneven but rather appealing. But there’s something about his dark brown eyes that draws you in. His looks appears rugged at first, but if you look into those eyes, you’ll notice a gentleness radiating from him.
The ding of the register jolts you out of your reverie, and you compose yourself before returning to their table. “I apologize for the delay; we can take the picture now!”
You motion them to follow you to another room, where they will find a small studio. You explain how this will work to Frankie, “Before we shoot the picture, I’ll let you pick out any props or accessories you’d like me or yourself to use. After the photo is taken, I’ll personalize the photo for you using stickers and markers. If you let me of course!”
Frankie gives you a quiet nod and a little grin to put you at ease. He walks up to the table, which is laden with props and accessories, and the others follow. “Put these ears on!” Ben made a suggestion.
Ben removed his cap and clipped the dog ears into his hair before Frankie could even refuse, while Santi handed you the cat ears. “Do you want me to put the collar on as well?” “No!” Frankie screamed, eyes wide. “ It’s all right!” He averted his gaze to hide his blush.
“Is that all for the accessories?” you inquire, slightly adjusting your dress. Frankie nods once again, afraid that if he speaks, his words would betray him.
Nodding, you gesture him to the set, encouraging him to strike a pose. He hesitantly raises one hand to form a paw, smiling as the photographer takes the image, ignoring the guys’ laughs. You dash to the photographer to get the photograph and present it to Frankie. “Is it all you’d like it to be?” “It looks all right.” “Great! I’ll go ahead and decorate it right now; don’t worry, I’ll be quick!“ Before approaching the desk with the decorating supplies, give him a friendly grin.
You attach the light blue and light brown stickers to match both your clothing, as well as draw a few mini cats and dogs to fit the motif, returning your gaze at the men before you place something else on the back of the picture. You quickly dry the photo by fanning it, wrapping it in a protective film then placing it in a small envelope. Last but not least, you sign your name and a ‘come back soon!’ on the front of the letter.
“Here it is! I’ll take you all to the entrance now!” You hand Frankie the envelope and head for the door as he takes it. “Thank you very much for taking the time to come by! We look forward to seeing you again soon!” You smile as you wave at them and watch them fade away.
He finally arrives at his own house after dropping off his pals at their homes. He took out the letter and opened it, sighing as he sat on his couch, appreciating your gorgeous self as well as your pretty writing and decoration. He was about to put it back in the envelope when he finally noticed the back.
summary: You wake up to find your long time crush, next to you!
word count:2.2k
warnings: reader has memory problems :( lil bit of angst, fluffly too tho always <3 oh and pancakes ! (no use of y/n and they use they/them!)
comments: hi! i’ve been having the most massive writer’s block lately so sorry for the lack of writings. i do have 3 other wips that i’ll hopefully finish soon! but for now hope yall enjoy this one!! (also yes this is a reupload)
As you awaken from your slumber, sunlight enters your eyes through your unusually open window. Your eyes blinking quickly as they adjust to the bright light. Migraine consumes you as you slowly sit up, attempting but failing to recall the events of the previous night.
“Good morning, baby.” A voice suddenly appearing next to you, making you jump. It’s a familiar voice you heard, but your drowsiness makes it difficult to tell who it is. Surprisingly, you slowly turn to face them, only to see your long-time crush, Frankie. It took a few moments for you to realize what he had called you. Baby? Why would he call me that?
Confounded by your staring and lack of response, he placed a hand on your cheek, gently caressing it before slithering his hand to the back of your neck and pulling you in for a quick peck. “Sorry, I have to leave, but I’ll be back later in the evening, okay?”
You nodded quickly, still taken aback by the nickname and now by his kiss. You watch as Frankie gets out of bed, gathers his belongings, and remembers to smile softly at you before leaving the room.
Your body is still frozen as a result of what just happened. You touched your lips as you lay back down on your pillow. You try again and again to recall the events of the previous night, but you’re unsuccessful. Although, this isn’t the first time you’ve forgotten something important. Your mind works in a complex manner, possibly much more so than that of some or more people. Having a tendency to forget minor or major details, events, or even something that has just occurred. But it appears that this is the worst possible time for you to forget.
Frankie had been your friend for a long time, having met you in a bar when you were down and him completely cheering you up. Surprisingly, despite your terrible memory, you can recall every detail of that day. Your friend had nagged you to go out with her, promising you a good time if you came with her. Only for her to abandon you for some girl she met. Frankie had come to that bar for a quick drink, which turned into a long one when he encountered your sulking self.
You aren’t a trusting person, and you initially turned him down when he approached you. What else could he want besides to get into your pants, you reasoned. But a quick glance at his face reveals a gentleness beneath his rugged exterior. So you gave him the benefit of the doubt. What a good descision that was. He listened to you and comforted you until he saw a smile on your face that lasted until the end of the night and more.
From then on, he turned into one of your closest friends. He was nothing more than a great friend at first, always willing to be there when you needed him. But as you spent more time with him and got to know him, feelings began to emerge. So it’s a little heartbreaking for him to suddenly be in your bed, kissing you, and you have no idea why or how he got there with you. Did he kiss me last night too?
From then on, he turned into one of your closest friends. He was nothing more than a great friend at first, always willing to be there when you needed him. But as you spent more time with him and got to know him, feelings began to emerge. So it’s a little heartbreaking for him to suddenly be in your bed, kissing you, and you have no idea why or how he got there with you. What happened last night?
It feels like an eternity waiting for Frankie to arrive. You couldn’t wait to ask him about what happened the night before. But hold on. What if he gets hurt because I forgot about it? Clearly, he had a good night last night. But, on the other hand, I can’t just accept the fact that I’ve forgotten what might have been my first time with him. You spent the entire day trying to remember, retracing your steps around the house, but nothing came to mind.
You eventually stopped trying to remember those events, choosing instead to clean the house and make yourself more presentable for Frankie. And then, before you knew it, the bell rang.
“Hey, bought us food.” He gave you a kiss before letting himself in, putting the bag of food down before sitting down himself. “I was thinking we could watch-”
"I have something to say to you, Frankie.” You sat down next to him, hesitantly taking his hand in yours.
“Are you all right?” He notices your worried expression and frown. His hands caressing yours helps to calm you down a little. “Yeah, I just have something I need to tell you.”
“Of course, anything.”
Taking deep breaths, you muster the courage to tell him, “Frankie, I have terrible memory problems. I forget things very easily, to the point where I sometimes forget what just happened or even an entire day. I can’t keep it under control, no matter how hard I try.”
"That’s fine, honey. If you forget something, I’ll always remind you.” He carressed your cheek, leaning in for a kiss.
“No, wait a minute. I’m not finished yet.” You hold his face a little longer before proceeding. “I- I don’t remember what happened last night.”
“What?”
You let go of his hand, averting your gaze from his perplexed expression. He waits patiently for you to continue. “I have no memory of what happened last night. I tried all day to recall something, anything, but nothing came to mind. I don’t know why you kissed me this morning and why you were in bed with me. I figured something happened last night for you to do that, but no matter how hard I try, I just can’t recall it.” Before proceeding, you take a deep breath “Did i say something to you? Did you say something to me? I just need to know what happened, and i’m really sorry that i forgot.”
Frankie paused for a moment, slightly saddened that you forgot, but as you said, you didn’t forget on purpose, and he knows it. "Hey, It’s all right, I’ll tell you what happened.”
The ring of the doorbell drew your attention, and you dashed to it, opening it to reveal Frankie. "Hey! What brings you here? Come on in.” You lead him into the house and then sit down on the couch, where he joins you.
“I have the day off today, and what better way to spend it than with you?” He envelops you with his arm, snuggling you close. You laugh, feeling your cheeks warm up. “You came at a good time, you know! I was about to start making pancakes!”
“Great! Let’s get cooking!” He stands up and takes your hand in his, leading you to the kitchen. The two of you prepared the ingredients and utensils. You also grabbed two aprons, one for each of you, and gave one to him.
Frankie notices the words ’kiss the cook’ on your apron. “Nice apron,” he says as he bumps his hips against yours. You frown, checking your apron, “Hey! A friend of mine got this for me.”
“It’s cute.” He mumbles as he stirs the ingredients in the bowl. “You’re also cute.” He looks down, confused, and discovers that he, too, was wearing the same type of apron. Then, above his head, a lightbulb went off. He smirks as he dips his finger into the batter and smothers it on your cheek.
Slowly turning your head in shock, you dipped your fingers in the mix and lathered them on his face. “Oh, it’s on.” He dipped his hand into the mixture and grinned at you. You stood on the other side of the counter, anticipating his next move. Frankie walks slowly around the counter, with you mirroring his movements. When he suddenly quickens his pace and sprints to you.
The both of you reached the sofa, one by each end. You swiftly make your way to your bedroom and hid behind the door. Minutes past and Frankie haven’t come in the room. You peak out the door, nothing. Sneaking through the hallway, no sign of Frankie yet.
When you get to the kitchen, there’s still no sign of Frankie. All of a sudden, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place. “Ha! I’ve got you!“ He says this while smothering both of your cheeks with batter, one arm still holding you in place.
As Frankie gently pokes and pinches your battered cheeks, laughter fills the room. You slither your way around his arms and turn to face him. You froze, your face only a few inches away from his. His gaze fell to your lips, parting slightly. Slowly, the distance between you two narrowed, and your lips finally intertwined.
For a brief moment, your lips molded together, until you drew away from him. "We should clean up.” Frankie nodded as he watched you slither away from his arms and disappear into the hallway.
You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, noticing your sloppy figure and pancake mix-smothered face. “Oh god, it had to happen with me looking like this?” You sighed as you washed your face and tidied your hair, then went to your closet. You rummaged through it and found an oversized shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants for Frankie.
When you get to the living room where you found him, you hand him the clothes and tell him, “You’ve got some batter on your clothes, so—you can use my bathroom.” He took the clothes and nodded, then proceeded to the bathroom.
You decide to wait for him in your bedroom. You had to talk about that kiss; it had to mean something, you reasoned. Maybe it’s time to let it all out.
Frankie emerged from the bathroom, freshly dressed and clean. He notices you sitting on the bed and decides to join you. “So, about that kiss.”
“Y'know, I’ve been thinking about doing that since I walked in the door.”
“Really?” you blush, averting your gaze a little.
“To be honest, I came here to tell you how much I like you. I just can’t stand seeing you with other people. I want to be with you and treat you better than those idiots.”
“They weren’t that bad,” you chuckle.
“Oh, please! They were a fool to let you go. I’ve always thought that if anyone were to be with you, they would be the luckiest person in the world; god, you’re always taking care of people to the point where you don’t take care of yourself. You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Every touch you send relaxes me in so many ways. It’s upsetting to see them mistreat you and leave you.”
"Maybe you’re right about some of them, but sometimes it’s me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you while I was dating them, and I couldn’t bear the thought of them wasting their time on me, so I broke up with them. I’m not as great as you think I am, Frankie.” you take a pause “I dated them because I didn’t believe I stood a chance with you. I thought you were a great guy from the first time we met, comforting me—a complete stranger at the time—for no reason. And as I got to know you better, my feelings grew stronger. But there was never a good time for me to say it or act on it.”
"I get that. In fact, I did the same thing. Dated other people to distract myself from my feelings for you, but it never worked. It’s stupid of me to realize this now, but I’m not going to waste any more time.” He envelops your hands in his, “I’m not afraid to say that I adore you in every way. I want to be the reason to your gorgeous smile. I know I’m not the best person, but I promise I’ll treat you well.”
Your cheeks warmed up at his words, tears threatening to spill over the euphoric emotions you’re experiencing. Instead of saying anything, you let go of his hands and placed them on his face. "Can I kiss you?”
“I’d be a fool to say no.”
Your lips molded with his once more, and your hands moved to tangle themselves in his hair. His arms are wrapped around your waist, gently pushing you onto the bed.
Frankie pulls back, hovering above you. “I love you so much,” he says as he gives you a short kiss.
“I absolutely love you, too, Frankie Morales.”
“We talked and cuddled the rest of the night. Eventually we fell asleep, and the rest is history.”
Your memories began to flood back to you. Your feelings and actions have finally returned to your mind. When you look down at your hands, emotions take over and tears flow from your eyes. “I mean everything I said, Frankie. I know I forgot it before, but I now remember saying and doing everything, I promise, I truly do love you.”
“I know, baby.” He pulls you into his lap, hugging you close. “I’m neither angry nor sad that you forgot. I know you were speaking from the heart last night, and I don’t doubt you for a second; I love you.”
The two of you relaxed in each other’s warmth, wrapped together till the end of the night.
A Triple Frontier Soulmate AU! Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x female reader
In a world where every soul has a perfect mate, Frankie Morales has seen no evidence that his even exists. Soulmates gain each other’s permanent body markings - scar and tattoos - and while all of Frankie’s ink and battle wounds have transferred over to his soulmate’s skin, he’s never found a single mark on his body that he didn’t make himself. Until now.
I love a good soulmate au story and this is certainly 1 of them! just had another read, it is so good and i love the reader, she is such a good character, which is fabulous as we know all the boys will be great as usual….
AN: No thoughts, only thots about meeting Frankie at a party you were reluctant to go to in the first place. There’s infidelity here - so if that’s not your jam no worries! Enjoy!
Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader
Warnings; Infidelity, (18+ no minors) piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, unhappy marriage - mentions of divorce.
Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes dilated and her pulse was almost visible on the delicate skin of her neck and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.
AN: No thoughts, only thots about meeting Frankie at a party you were reluctant to go to in the first place. There’s infidelity here - so if that’s not your jam no worries! Enjoy!
Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader
Warnings; Infidelity, (18+ no minors) piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, unhappy marriage - mentions of divorce.
Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes dilated and her pulse was almost visible on the delicate skin of her neck and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.
Idk how you do it, but you really just have this way of pulling me into a scene. Like I can smell the beer and hear the music and see Frankie’s sweet pleading face. I loved this and man I hope he calls her soon. He deserves something nice.
Thanks bb - I’m happy it came across well, thank you for reading!♥️
AN: No thoughts, only thots about meeting Frankie at a party you were reluctant to go to in the first place. There’s infidelity here - so if that’s not your jam no worries! Enjoy!
Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader
Warnings; Infidelity, (18+ no minors) piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, unhappy marriage - mentions of divorce.
Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes dilated and her pulse was almost visible on the delicate skin of her neck and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.
AN: No thoughts, only thots about meeting Frankie at a party you were reluctant to go to in the first place. There’s infidelity here - so if that’s not your jam no worries! Enjoy!
Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader
Warnings; Infidelity, (18+ no minors) piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, unhappy marriage - mentions of divorce.
Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes dilated and her pulse was almost visible on the delicate skin of her neck and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.
My wife hasn’t looked at me like that in years.
“Sorry? I didn’t quite catch your name.” He instantly likes her voice and tries to imagine what she’d sound like in bed and for the first time in god knows how long he isn’t ashamed of himself.
“It’s Francisco - you can call me Frankie.” He shakes her hand, holds onto it probably longer than he should and he knows his dimple is staring her in the face with the way he’s smiling. “How do you know James?” He gives her a once over, almost subtly and he’s happy to see her fluster a tiny bit.
“Oh um - ha I actually don’t - I came with a friend. Maureen - do you know her?” She fiddles with her dress, smoothing it down with her plump lower lip between her teeth. It’s endearing and he wants nothing more than to pull her close - to nuzzle at the hollow of her throat but she looks at his hand when he takes a sip of his beer and the spell is broken. She sees it, he knows she does and there’s nothing he can say.
Fuck.
“Oh, I’m sorry - I didn’t realize.” She frowns a little staring at his wedding ring, more flustered than before but now it’s out of embarrassment and he feels cruel, like he’d led her on in some way.
“Yeah, that’s - sorry that’s-” He doesn’t know what to say to this lovely thing in front of him.
Technically, yes I’m married but my wife has been cheating on me for years, I just got the proof I needed a couple of days ago and I’m going to divorce her ass. Wanna fuck?
“There you are, have you seen my purse?” His wife came in right on cue and then he was alone with her, a swirl of a skirt left in the pretty woman’s wake - he sighed loudly, not that his wife commented on it - or even noticed for that matter. “There it is - oh look - your buddies are here! Why don’t you catch up with them?” She didn’t look at him as she said it - too busy fixing her lipstick and he knew then that her side piece was here.
He felt nothing.
“Sure honey.” He spoke the words to her back as she walked away from him - he couldn’t even remember when he stopped watching her go.
-
The heat was crawling up your body, warming the apples of your cheeks with embarrassment and your legs couldn’t carry you away fast enough. You moved through the crowd of people you didn’t know, winding through the little groups of them while scanning for Maureen, hoping to catch a glimpse of the red shirt she’d been wearing - relief washing over you when you finally saw her.
“Hey- where’d you get to?” She smiled big, looking for the drinks you were supposed to grab. “No drinks?”
“Sorry- There were a bunch of people waiting so I came back.” You did your best to smile through the lie. “I’ll try again in a few.”
If he’s not still standing there.
Your stomach dropped at the thought of running into him again, a groan threatening to claw its way out of your throat. Why did he have to be so handsome? Why did he have to be exactlyyour type? Tall and broad, with that cute dimple and those soft waves- marriedwaves.
Why did you flirt back?
This question annoyed you a bit, it burned brightly in the back of your mind while you tried - genuinely tried to listen to Maureen chatting about - well whatever the hell she was chatting about.
You saw his wife walk past the two of you then, a very pretty woman with gorgeously thick hair and Ruby red lips lost in conversation with a burly blond man, if he’d told her that you’d flirted then it would only make sense that she’d glance at you but mercifully she didn’t. Thank christ.
Maureen laughed and pulled you away from your thoughts, introducing you to a few of her friends from college and you busied yourself trying to remember their names, muddling through polite conversation while also counting the hours until she’d be ready to go. It wasn’t so bad though- they weren’t so bad. Her friends, while maybe a bit pretentious, were all in all nice enough and it wasn’t hard to find common interests with a few while she made her rounds until your bladder pulled you towards the bathroom.
The door to the powder room on the bottom floor was locked, in use. Goddamn it-
“There’s a bathroom just up the stairs and to the left-” One of the hosts saw you standing there and came to the rescue “-please feel free.” With a polite thank you, you climbed up further and further until the door was opening before you. The scene inside froze you in your tracks, it was the blond burly man and Francisco’s wife in the middle of a hook-up.
Your mouth gaped open for half a second before you shut the door - unsure if they’d heard you, unsure if they even cared.
Couldn’t even be bothered to lock the door???
You ran down the stairs as quickly as you could, almost crashing into the person just coming out of the powder room and after a nervous shuffle from both of you, you were safely tucked away in the enclosed space. After relieving yourself, and splashing your face with cool water came the time to rejoin the fray - maybe if you could make eye contact with Maureen, she would see the discomfort on your face but that was a dead end - she was nowhere to be found.
I need a cigarette.
-
He was standing alone on the porch of the house, taking in the cool night air and it seemed as though the Gods or the fates or whoever was responsible for the day was thoroughly enjoying your discomfort.
“Oh - hi.” He smiled his dimpled smile and it was almost too much - you didn’t know this man, you had no idea what was happening in their marriage but what you did know for sure was how fucking disrespectful it was of this woman to fuck another man while her husband was here. “You okay?” His head tilted, concerned, beautiful.
“Yeah. Sorry um - you wouldn’t happen to have a smoke would you?” Fingers crossed he’d say yes.
“No sorry - I quit a long time ago.”
Fuck me sideways, seriously.
“No worries.” You stood there, gawping at him as he leaned his hip against one side of the railings. His smile faded and a neutral realization took its place.
“Was it with a blond man?” His words were stones in your stomach, boulders being dropped from a great height.
“What?” You hoped against hope that he wouldn’t make you do this.
I shouldn’t have fucking come out here.
“It’s okay - it wouldn’t be the first time. It’s funny - I didn’t want to divorce her until I had the proof and I got it a couple of days ago.” He sighed big but it didn’t seem sad or heartbroken. “I’m not naive, it’s nothing new.”
“I’m sorry - I don’t know what to say. Are you going to confront them?” The idea of him storming upstairs and pulling them out of the bathroom for everyone to see made your skin crawl with anxiety.
“Oh no, nothing so dramatic as that, I don’t care to - haven’t cared in a long time.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just please don’t look at me like that.” You frowned.
“Like what?” It was your head that tilted now.
“Like you pity me - I’m okay, in a couple of days I’ll serve her with the papers and it’ll be done. For now I’d much rather you looked at me the way you did before you knew I was married.” He straightened as he spoke - taking a few slow steps towards you.
“And how did I look at you before?” He was so tall, so broad and handsome.
“You looked at me, like you wanted me.” He watched your mouth, licking his bottom lip as he spoke and suddenly it was too hot - your skin was too warm and your tongue followed the example set by him and swiping along your bottom lip.
-
His grip is almost bruising, but his hands are so much softer than you would have thought and after a harder thrust one of them is sliding under your bra to hold the weight of your breast.
“You feel so fucking good.” His voice is hoarse, the words clipped as he groans them into your ear. The plush swell of your ass is pressed up tight against his groin, his cock punching up into you in the back of his truck.
I am letting a married man fuck me in the back of his truck, in a suburban neighbourhood.
The thought bleeds out of your brain with every snap of his hips, with every swirl of his fingers on your swollen clit. Your slick is dripping out around him, soaking the panties he roughly pulled down to fill your aching cunt. His cock sliding in so easily with how aroused you are and it takes everything not to scream out from how good it feels.
“Feel how fucking hard you made me baby.” He picks up speed, pushing the air out of your lungs with the force of it - your eyes roll back - mouth a wordless ‘O’ as he steals the thoughts out of your head with the slip of his cock and the swirl of his fingers. “Talk to me baby- tell me it feels good.” He pulls you up, his hand moving up to cradle your jaw and bring you towards him in a misaligned kiss. All tongues and pants as he doubles down on his efforts to pull you apart.
“It’s good - god it’s so fucking good.” Your words are almost slurred and he lets out a breathless laugh before he bites at your ear.
You’re racing towards your orgasm, the tingle of it spreading from your center out through your limbs and when he pinches your clit between his two wet fingers you fall off the cliff. Euphoria burns through your veins, cunt clenching around him hard enough to make him groan from deep in his throat.
“Where do you want it?” He grits it out through mashed teeth and you pull away, bending forward as best you can.
“On my ass.” You pull your dress up past your hips, displaying yourself for him shamelessly.
“Fuck-”He sounds pained and you can’t help but look back as best you can, the pain in your neck is worth the vision of him, his eyes down watching as he pumps his cock against your ass. One of his hands gripping you and with a shuddering moan he paints you in himself. “Jesus baby- fuck that’s pretty.” He rubs the sensitive tip through the mess on your skin before finally finding a tissue and wiping most of it away.
The cab is steamy when you exit, your hair a mess, his shirt untucked but both of you giddy with post orgasmic bliss - wordlessly parting to join the party but not before saving your number in his phone.
After the blood has cooled and it’s time to go, he catches your eye at the door with a wink and a promise and as you walk out with Maureen you hope he’ll call soon.
Warnings:Voyeurism, masturbations, sex toys, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, angst, talks of domestic abuse, talks of being held captive, protectiveness, Frankie throwing his rank around a little and it’s sexy, domestic violence, threats of murder.
Comments: Frankie finds that his new neighbor doesn’t close her windows when she’s masturbating. You have moved trying to escape your past and catch the handsome man next door watching you one day, inviting him over in the heat of the moment, a decision that will change your lives.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says ’creator chooses not to use warnings’. You also agree that you’re the right age to be consuming anything here.
Frankie had noticed that the ‘FOR RENT’ sign had been taken down next door. Noticed it when he had pulled into the driveway after a long day, noticing that the lights had been turned on, but he hadn’t given it much more thought than that. The need for a beer and a shower urgent. Perhaps a beer in the shower after the day he had. Not noticing that someone was moving around, setting up a home while he opens the door to the house and sighing as he takes his hat off and starts toeing off his boots to let his aching feet breathe.
“Fuck I’m getting old.” He grunts to himself and closes the door, emptying his pockets of keys, wallets, mints and his phone, dumping it all on the entryway table Julia had left when she had moved out two years ago. Hanging up his jacket and pulling his sweaty t-shirt over his head as he walks down the hall towards his bedroom.
Word Count:444 Warnings: It’s pegging Frankie hours but it’s not explicit, I don’t think. Author’s Note: This is not Frankie and Lizzy. I mean, you can read it that way if you want because Elizabeth Miller Morales one hundred percent pegs her husband but this is not a named reader/ofc and there are no descriptions or gender put on the reader insert at all. It’s who and what you want it to be. Personally, I want it to be me.
It’s the thick cords of his neck as he strains to look back towards you, hair pulled taut between your fingers.
It’s the way your lips trail fire across any bit of skin that you can reach and the black abyss of his blown out pupils.
It’s the whimpers he makes beneath you, body succumbing to a level of pleasure he doesn’t often see.
Notes: I don’t know what happened. I was standing in the shower, listening to a Top Gun playlist and suddenly thought about my other favorite pilot. I saw similarities and made this in 30 minutes. This is mix of Top Gun Maverick love and Triple Frontier love. It’s probably filled with errors, but I love it. Unbeta'ed. Bon Appétit ❤️
Words:1.2K
Walking into the bar with a huge smile, you find your favorite group of guys waiting in a corner, already a pitcher of beer on the table. When you slump down beside Frankie, he puts his arm around you and pull you into a sideways hug. He gives you a soft kiss on the cheek and you blush a little. No matter how much time you spend around him, you always seem to get flustered.
“So… I take it the movie was good?”
Almost wiggling in your seat with joy, you look at Benny with a huge grin, unable to hide your excitement.
“Good doesn’t even begin to cover it. Best movie I’ve seen in a long time!”
Summary: Frankie’s work as co-owner of Wild Things involves making sure the books run smoothly. He’s content to have Max help with them, but only if they’re audited, just to be on the safe side. He’s hired the best in town - you - based on reputation alone. When he meets you to go over the final report, sparks fly - and Frankie decides to give you a little show off the books as a thank you for all your hard work. That escalates quickly.
Warnings: SMUT, PIV sex, oral and fingering (m and f receiving), facesitting, I’m in a lil bit of a trance so sry if I forgot anything
A/N: More from the Magic Markie ‘verse! Will still basically work as a standalone, if you like. This one goes out to my dear @wordsnwhiskeywho will hopefully enjoy a very special insert, with thanks as always to @ezrasbirdie for looking it over!
Frankie adjusts his tie in the elevator as it rises higher and higher, opening to the 30th floor of a gleaming office building downtown. He feels so out of place, so uncomfortable in the business attire.
He’s traded in a military uniform for a more casual look (and sometimes, nothing at all when he was on stage), and he can’t wait to get out of the suit when he gets home.
Oh my god the idea of Frankie in a tie somehow feels very wrong I’m glad he thought so too. Better get it off asap. Along with everything else. I’m also glad it was interactive, it would be torture if it wasn’t! Can you imagine
