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.
A/N: God, I just love these two. And Meana-beana. I dunno where the strength to finish this came from - I was just minding my business eating a mandarin so… yeah. Apologies for any mistakes, it’s late lmao.
Taglist note: I’ve used my MTW taglist but if you are no longer interested, just let me know and I’ll remove you from any future fics as this is an old list, some names have changed/don’t work, and new tag requests are not added so I’m sorry for that!
Summary: Mena and Frankie have an important question for you.
Word count: just over 1.8k
Warnings: swearing, MY FAVE BESTIES BENNY + ANGEL, fluff & domesticity galore, Frankie DILF™️ Morales. It’s just fluff. Fluff everywhere. I’m soft as fuck.
Something in the back of your mind flagged certain interactions, focusing on some things said in passing or the way people just simply acted around you. It was bugging you like crazy.
It started when Frankie started acting differently.
Drabble based off a prompt from a list below. I apologize for the lack of ‘keep reading’ link. It wasn’t working out.
He hated when you walked away, but you weren’t sure you would stay composed if you stood in front of him anywhere with your eyes wide and mouth open in evident surprise. Wasn’t he just saying a couple weeks ago that he was finally feeling settled? You left Will silent in the kitchen, right hand thrusted out of frustration into the pocket of his jeans while you pretended to try and collect yourself in the bedroom.
You weren’t actually making an effort to be composed though. Instead, you were mumbling small groans of confusion on your side of the bed while taking out your earrings. They were small gold studs, the first gift Will ever gave you. Almost 4 years ago, silently leaving the box on the bathroom sink of the apartment you’d been renting on your own at the time. He was so nonchalant about it that you didn’t notice the little black box by your toothpaste all day until he had to prompt you to go look. You wore them almost every day, but you needed something to do or else your hands would be left right now to furiously remove the pillows from the bed and toss them across the room.
Will sighed as he settled his side against the door frame. He had given you a minute to yourself, but it had felt like eons as he paced through the kitchen and pantomimed cleaning the counter. He wrinkled his brows together as he saw you taking out your earrings. What did that mean?
“It could lead to a lot of money, babe.” Slow and confident, as if he was wrapping up one of his professional speeches, he told you.
While you weren’t looking over at him yet, he had your attention.
“How much is a lot?” Money was a pink elephant in the room. You two rarely outright spoke about it, but the stress of combined bills at the end of every month was silently felt between you both.
“It would cover your student loans.” Will checked the space between his socked feet and then back to you. He hoped that nugget would bring your eyes to him again. “And then some”
It took you long to pipe up and you felt that, but the idea of never feeling the hot force of student loans pushing into your shoulders every month was momentarily enticing. He knew that. A man of few words, Will Miller wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.
“If the choice is between having huge debt for years or you going off and potentially being shot at again? I am always going to choose debt. Always.” Conviction cracking your voice, you finally looked at him in disbelief that you would have to say that. The obvious sadness pouring through you coaxed him over the threshold and into the room with you. “I just thought that was finally behind us.” He had a new routine now. He was on a sleep medication that worked. He wasn’t feeling isolated in a crowd anymore. The idea of him going back, even for one last job, felt like pissing all over that progress. You didn’t doubt that you two could do it again, but the idea didn’t set off fireworks. Hands between your knees, you sighed as he cautiously sat by you on the bed’s edge.
“It’s for Pope. It’s an easy job.” He said as if either fact was reassuring. His right hand came to the back of your head, fondly strumming through locks of hair. “I don’t want to go with my girl pissed at me.” Will admitted what you already knew, his thumb moving hair away to graze over the empty spot on your ear where the gold stud had been.
Part of you wanted to tell him again not to go, just as you had when you were both still in the kitchen, but you felt his eyes on your profile, fingers soft in your hair and on your skin, and you inhaled to reset - finally feeling closer to composed.
“I’m not pissed.” Your shoulder met his chest as you leaned in with trust, deflating against him. He wasn’t asking for your permission nor did he require it. It was your support that Will wanted as per usual. “I’m always going to worry about you, but I’m also always going to be in your corner.” It was a promise, one that you both were always reminding the other of. Will bowed his head over yours, breathing in the soft scent of sea salt shampoo before protectively closing his hand over the side of your face that wasn’t up to his chest. Finally, he could breathe a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was for you to go to sleep angry at him.
I haven’t done any writing ages. Got married, had a baby, fell off the face of the Earth. This blog used to be essentially Billy Hargrove fics and head canons and maybe I’ll get back to that, but I have been pretty interested in writing Triple Frontier stuff lately. If that’s something people would be into, I will throw up an old prompt list and see what is requested? Sound good?
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: 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
Rating: PG-13 (language, mentions of a “sleepover”)
Summary:Dating your best friend’s brother always comes with challenges. Benny doesn’t want to know any of the details about your relationship until he begins to wonder where he fits. | Ft. “Are you a thing now?” Requested by anon.
Pairing:Best Friend!Benny x Reader | Boyfriend!Will x Reader
Warnings: Some fluff, Benny being an annoying best friend, a little insecurity, some swears. That’s about it.
Word Count:2.3k
The moving playing in the background was one you’d seen at least a thousand times. Somewhere along the way, it became something of a comfort film - watched at least once any time Benny joined you for a movie night - and you were waiting for him to start quoting the villain’s lines aloud as he tilted his head to glance up at you.
Knowing him, the words on the tip of his tongue were either that or a train of thought only you would be privy to.
Benny’s position on your lap, head resting on your thigh and popcorn bowl resting on his stomach, was one that he’d adopted not long after you became friends. It was natural, easy, but you often joked that it made you feel like his therapist when he abandoned the movie to ask you questions that often lead to rethinking the ways of the universe.
“So, are you, like, a thing now?”
Unlike his previous questions - your thoughts on aliens, whether mankind is inherently good, how many marshmallows you imagined he could fit into his mouth and whether he would choke on them - there was no need to ask where this one came from or who he was referring to.
For nearly three months, you’d been seeing Will. It started slowly - neither of you were interested in rushing into something, let alone something with one another lest it leave you both in an awkward spot - but things were starting to get serious.
To friends that didn’t know him and strangers, you now referred to Will as your boyfriend. Benny knew - was the first to know, told by both you and Will the moment you decided to give one another a chance - but rarely asked for specifics. He knew enough to be kept in the loop - knew that you’d been spending more time together and that you’d moved beyond just getting to know one another romantically - but this was the first time he’d asked for clarity.
Still, you weren’t exactly surprised that he was asking now. When his early morning call - asking if you wanted to meet for breakfast as he’d been busy with training and you’d been busy with work, leaving you both unable to spend any time together - was answered by Will, it was bound to happen.
Despite the question - and your expectation that it was to come - Benny’s curiosity about your love life was rarely serious. He’d joked time and again that he didn’t want to know anything about your relationship with Will - he grimaced exaggeratedly and downed his beer the first time he saw Will wrap his arm around your shoulders - so you rolled your eyes and laughed at his question.
“Why?” As you reached for the popcorn, you fixed him with a raised brow and a playful grin. “You jealous, Miller?”
Though the question was lobbed at him in jest, a teasing jab meant to make him laugh, Benny seemed to take it a touch too literally. Something unfamiliar - something sad, anxious - flashed in his eyes as his cheeks flushed a warm pink. With a scoff, he sat up and shook his head as he averted his gaze.
“Fuck no,” he declared, not bothering to spare a glance in your direction. “I love you but not like that.”
The refutation was strong, one that carried more weight than a simple rebuttal should have, and was followed by another shake of his head. In the moment of silence that followed, Benny raked a hand through his hair - unweighted by the ratty cap he wore so often - and tapped his foot as he reached out for his beer as he attempted to gather his thoughts.
It struck you then, as you watched him furrow his brows and reach for the abandoned beer bottle on the coffee table, just how similar he and Will could be. Though Will seemed like the picture of stoicism upon first meeting him, he truly cared for the people in his life. His care was quieter than Benny’s - fewer words, more actions - but both Miller brothers wore their hearts on their sleeves around those lucky enough to be part of their lives. Benny could be rash, impulsive, but in the moments that mattered - moments like this - he took a page from his older brother’s book and fell silent as he tried to decide how to continue.
“I’m not jealous.” The repetition was unnecessary as you both knew that wasn’t the case - as much shit as everyone gave you, your relationship with Benny was strictly platonic and always had been - but his reaction gave you pause. There was, obviously, something simmering beneath the surface and it brought a frown to your lips as Benny took a pull from his now warm beer.
As he seemed to lose himself in his train of thought, you hesitantly attempted to answer the question that prompted the conversation. “I mean…” You paused for a moment to really consider where you and Will stood.
The relationship was exclusive - it had been all along, even if neither of you explicitly said anything in the beginning - and you could see yourself falling in love with him but that was not something you felt necessary to share with Benny in that moment. The relationship was one of the most stable you’d had in years, something you attributed to starting off so slowly, and you saw a future with Will in a way that you hadn’t with anyone else.
“Yeah,” you finally confirmed. “We’re a thing.” There was a moment of hesitation before you asked, “Is that… are you okay with that?”
Benny nodded quickly and nearly dropped the bottle onto the table as he returned it. “Yeah,” he confirmed, pausing momentarily to clear his throat. “It’s… yeah. Of course I’m good with it. I just…”
A beat of silence passed as Benny frowned. He shook his head once more before turning to glance at you. “Look,” he began, voice as serious as you’d ever heard him. “I’m happy for you. You and Will are perfect for each other. Just… say you get serious. That’s great,” he acknowledged, certain and firm in his declaration. “But what happens when Friday nights are date nights, not movie nights. And when dinner after a fight is just you and Will, not the three of us. And what happens if you break up? I know you’re both all tough and emotionally constipated and shit but it’d be weird. I’d lose my best friend and be pissed off at my brother.“
Though Benny no longer had any problem being vulnerable with you, this was the most honest - and serious - he’d been about his feelings in a long while. It made your chest ache as you studied the frown that looked so out of place on his face. Without a second thought, your expression mirrored his.
“Benny.” A soft sigh escaped your mouth as you reached out for him. When he frowned, eager to swat you away before you could pull him into an embrace, you tapped his hand away before tugging him closer. “You’re my best friend. I don’t say this often because your ego would be too big for my fucking house but I look forward to the time I get to spend with you. Movie nights are the highlight of my week when we can make them happen. And post dinner fights give me the perfect opportunity to make fun of you for getting your ass kicked. I’m not gonna give that up.”
Narrowed blue eyes met yours as you glanced at the man you’d grown so close to. You could see that there was an argument on the tip of his tongue - likely about his fighting, eager to deflect the conversation from something so serious - but you pressed on.
“Will knows that nothing between us is going to change. Before we decided to give us a shot, we sat down and talked through all the tough shit. One of the beauties of knowing Will before trying to really get to know him, I think. Just know that this,” you gestured between the pair of you and tilted your head to glance at Benny, “is good. We’re good. Right?”
A soft laugh escaped Benny as he tossed one arm over your shoulders before reaching for his beer. “Yeah,” he agreed with a nod, “we’re good. I really am happy for you both. It’s just… weird.” He paused for a moment to scrutinize you, blue eyes narrowed as he studied you, before he shook his head. “You know, I try but I just can’t figure out what he sees in you.”
A surprised gasp escaped before you shoved Benny away and reached for an abandoned pillow. “Oh, fuck you,” you laughed as you tossed the pillow in his direction. “I’m a complete catch and your brother is smart enough to understand that.”
“Mm.” Benny shrugged as he drained the remainder of his beer. He turned to glance at you with a badly hidden grin and glimmering eyes. “Poor guy.”
Benny stood, easily dodging the next pillow you tossed his way, and laughed as he wandered through the living room to the kitchen. “You’re a pain in my ass, Miller, you know that?”
He shrugged as he returned with two bottles in hand and a bright grin on his lips. “You would’t have it any other way.” The declaration was confident, easy - a return to the man you called your best friend - and made you roll your eyes as he settled back onto the couch at your side.
After a few moments of comfortable silence - during which Benny actually seemed to pay attention to the movie - you turned to glance at him. He raised a brow and glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “What’re you starin’ at, creep?”
“You’d really be pissed at Will if we broke up, even if it was my fault?”
Benny, who likely forgot he’d even said it, shrugged as he considered your question. “Depends on what you did,” he answered after a moment. “If he deserved it, probably.”
A surprised laugh escaped as you shook your head and reached for the bowl of popcorn. “I kinda love you. You know that, right?”
Another shrug from Benny as he nudged your beer closer to you and tilted his head to meet your eyes. “Mm. If you really loved me, though, you’d share the fucking popcorn.”
Instead of waiting, Benny reached out and snatched the bowl from your hand with a triumphant grin. You allowed him to keep it, not bothering to put up a fight, and shook your head as you sank back into the cushions to finish the film.
Once more, the silence only lasted a moment as the sound of a car door closing caught Benny’s attention. When the door closing was followed by footsteps on your porch and the jingle of keys, he frowned. He turned his attention to the door as the lock turned, momentarily on edge, before he turned to you. Benny raised an eyebrow as he sat up straight and glanced between you and the door. “He has a key? Come on, that’s more than a thing,” he declared, though you could hear the hint of laughter that tinged his voice.
As the door swung open and the thud of Will’s boots hitting the floor echoed through the house, you shrugged. “Well, ‘thing’ was fucking vague. That’s your fault.” You pointed your bottle at him and raised a brow as he shook his head. “He’s my boyfriend, Benny, he has a key. I’ve got a key to his place, too,” you admitted with a laugh as Will stepped into the living room and offered you a smile. “You really think I’m getting up at the crack of dawn to lock up after he leaves to go to the gym with you? Please.”
Benny made a face at the idea of Will sleeping over - just as he’d pretended to retch the moment Will answered your phone - and blinked as he glanced between you both. “Gross. Your love is disgusting, I hope you know that.”
Will shook his head as he dropped his backpack beside the couch and settled onto the arm at your side. As he did so, Benny moved to stand from the couch. “You can just say that you hit a dry spell. We won’t make fun of you,” Will offered, grin badly hidden as Benny glared at him.
“Speak for yourself, babe.” Benny grimaced at the pet name and rolled his eyes as you shot him a bright grin. “I will absolutely make fun of you.”
“Alright, fuck both of you.” It was said with a laugh as he reached for his cellphone and the hat he’d discarded on the table but before he could move any further, you shook your head.
“Sit back down, Benny,” you huffed, not bothering to glance at Will as he gave your hand a quick squeeze. “The movie’s not over yet.”
Benny glanced between you and Will - though he seemed uncertain as to what he was searching for - before he nodded and crossed the small distance to the loveseat. He dropped onto it and stretched out - head and legs hanging over the sides - before turning to look at Will. “You ever seen this one?”
Will moved from the arm of the couch to the spot Benny had just occupied and tossed an arm over your shoulders as he pretended to think for a moment. “Don’t think so,” he finally answered, barely bothering to look at the screen. He squeezed your thigh to keep you from blurting out that that was a lie - you’d made him watch it less than a week ago - and shrugged as he offered, “We could start it over, if you two don’t mind. Wanna see what the excitement’s about.”
As Benny launched into a passionate defense of the movie, eager to halt any potential argument Will could make before he could make it, Will tilted his head to give you a smile. Though Benny had valid reasons to worry, and though the future is never guaranteed, you couldn’t help but think that there would be no future without the Miller brothers in your life.
Author’s Note: I know Will is barely in this but, like. I’m a Benny girl, what can I say. I’m making a little progress on my next fic (Rick Flag) and then I’m going to try to get a Pedro character fic up (Din or Frankie, most likely; possibly Javi G). Anyway! I’ve written something! Now I’m gonna go continue my Enterprise binge.
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.
Pairing: Benny Miller x Will Miller x Santiago Garcia x Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader
gif is not my own. credit to the creator [ if you know who made this, please tell me so i can credit them, thanks! ]
Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY!) Warnings: Sex Pollen, Group sex, Double Penetration, Unprotected PIV (please be safe irl), cum eating, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), Anal, Shower sex, let me know if i missed anything! Word Count: 5,818 Notes: This has been in the works for MONTHS at this point and I finally feel okay releasing it to the hellsite. It’s filthy, it’s probably not perfectly canon but I love these boys and this was such an adventure to write. Please let me know what you think!
You were nervous as hell to walk into the conference room. The first day on any job is nerve wracking but even after a few weeks, you found yourself feeling like the outsider still. It wasn’t anyone’s direct fault, per say. Just a feeling you had from being the new one on the team.
The team you had been assigned to was a tight knit one. The four of them having been through all kinds of combat and missions together. Their previous team leader had gone off the rails and was forced to retire early.
Your debriefing hadn’t gone into a lot of details but the remaining men on the team seemed friendly enough. Benny and Will Miller, the brothers were such polar opposites that their interactions were always entertaining. And Frankie Morales seemed like a pretty sensible one, a lovable man with a mean streak when needed.
And then there was Santiago Garcia. The man was generally more observant but when he spoke, he attracted the attention of an entire room. His personality was electric in a way. The way his scruff would sound as his hand ran over his jaw, deep in thought at whatever mission was being described as one that the team would be taking.
A new drug lord was suspected in Miami, carting drugs from Colombia and Bolivia. The trail had led to many dead ends but there was one loose end that your new team would be able to solve. A nightclub had been staked out and found to be smuggling drugs through some warehouse-like door in the basement. There wasn’t enough to get full intel and they needed a team to infiltrate and go undercover to gain more information.
A/N: This is part 4 of the Did We F**K Last Night? Series. I am so overwhelmed with the love and support this story has gotten. Thank you to everyone that reads, reblogs, comments, and likes. It means the world to me.
Moodboard made my @the-purity-pen for this series. I am so obsessed with this LeeAnn. She is an incredible writer and creator and you should follow her!
Previously…
“I think I’m going to stay out here and get some air; I can hear you okay from out here.” He nods and kisses you softly before going inside. You catch your breath and rub your hands over your shoulder, allowing the mortification to seep in.
Footsteps pounded on the ground, and you turn around as Santi comes running out and cups your cheeks, giving you a hard and sweet kiss. “Don’t run away, okay?” he asks quietly, and you nod, smiling. His face breaks out into a boyish grin, and he runs back inside and up to the mic, keeping his eyes on you and giving you a wink.
Chapter Four- The Speech
“Excuse me?” you turned and looked at the three women in matching pale purple dresses.
“Can I help you?” you ask, turning from Santiago and the rest of the room to face them. The one on the right reaches forward and grabs a strand of your hair, and twirling it around her finger.
“Well, you are a pretty one, aren’t you? Where did he find you?” her voice has a twinge of malice, and you step back and raise your eyebrow.
“Excuse me?” you try to keep polite, but you can feel the defenses rising. “What are you talking about?”
“The new flavor of the month, I was June of last year,” the one on the left says, taking a step closer. “You don’t actually believe he cares about you, do you?”
Moodboard (below) made by @the-purity-pen. Holy sh*t how can I describe LeeAnn without using the words talented and incredible. Follow her for incredible writing and moodboards!
Moodboard (below) made by @ghostwiththemostbitch. I’m speechless by the talent of this woman. Follow her, she writes fantastic stories!
A/N: God, I just love these two. And Meana-beana. I dunno where the strength to finish this came from - I was just minding my business eating a mandarin so… yeah. Apologies for any mistakes, it’s late lmao.
Taglist note: I’ve used my MTW taglist but if you are no longer interested, just let me know and I’ll remove you from any future fics as this is an old list, some names have changed/don’t work, and new tag requests are not added so I’m sorry for that!
Summary: Mena and Frankie have an important question for you.
Word count: just over 1.8k
Warnings: swearing, MY FAVE BESTIES BENNY + ANGEL, fluff & domesticity galore, Frankie DILF™️ Morales. It’s just fluff. Fluff everywhere. I’m soft as fuck.
Something in the back of your mind flagged certain interactions, focusing on some things said in passing or the way people just simply acted around you. It was bugging you like crazy.
It started when Frankie started acting differently.
The house is quiet when you get home. Quiet, not silent; there’s the hum of television, the soft glow pouring through the living room doorway. You try to keep the noise to a minimum as you toe your shoes off and put your keys on the hook. It’s late, later than you expected to be, and knowing Frankie, he’s probably passed out on the couch, having tried his hardest to wait up for you to get home.
