#ACH... THINKS BACK TO THAT ONE CATFISH SITUATION

[leatherbookmark]

also i'm team rinharu for the record. obviously

[tropes-and-tales]

For Good News, Read Front

(Frankie "Catfish" Morales x F!Reader)

CW:  Mostly fluff; some crude language.

Word Count:  3313

AN:  This was requested by the lovely @justreblogginfics for the April Showers event!

Civilian life hasn’t been kind to Frankie Morales.

Addiction, divorce.  Nearly bankrupted dealing with both.  He only sees his little girl half of the time, and each time he drops her off at her mom’s house, he feels like he’s been lanced through the heart.  He lives alone in a shitty apartment, and if it wasn’t for his job, he might go entire days without seeing or speaking to other people. 

More immediately, though, he hasn’t been taking care of himself.  He’s lost the rigor of military life.  He’s put on some weight and barely exercises.  According to his annual physical, he’s got high blood pressure, high cholesterol.

He wouldn’t care so much except for his daughter.  He wouldn’t bother if it was just for himself.  The thought of checking out early and not being there for her big moments—graduations, marriage, whatever—is enough to spur him to action.

He eats better, or tries to.  He cuts most of the red meat.  He cuts much of the mindless beer drinking he does at night in front of the TV.  He takes a multivitamin each morning.

He starts running for the exercise.

At first, it’s pathetic.  He’s winded almost immediately, his knees ache, and his muscles burn.  What happened to the Frankie who breezed through Basic Training?  What happened to the young buck who could hoover down four cheeseburgers and run with a loaded rucksack like it was nothing?

He got old, Frankie thought.  He got old and used up and left behind.

But it gets easier.  The running gets easier.  He starts to chew up miles on his long runs.  He wears out a pair of shoes and needs another.  He buys a stupid reflective vest so he can go out early mornings and run to race the sunrise.  As the running gets easier, so do other things:  he sleeps better, breathes better.  His mood improves marginally.

Maybe civilian life can work after all.

-----

He still makes stupid choices all the time. 

Like this evening:  the weather forecast showed rainstorms.  He checked it three times, but he still laced up his running shoes, queued up a playlist, and left his apartment.  In a surge of unfounded confidence, he figured he could outrun the weather.

Frankie figured wrong.

He’s almost exactly as far from home as he can be when the skies open up.  His favorite running route takes him into a quiet neighborhood full of old Florida-style homes with rambling lawns and big trees.  It’s usually charming, but now?  In the middle of a rainstorm that is increasingly dangerous—thunder rolls overhead, lightning cracks in the distance—it’s foreboding.  The light in the sky takes on a pearl grey cast, washing everything in a funereal pall.

Sheets of rain soak him in seconds.  He turns around, pounds back down the street, his waterlogged sneakers squelching with each stride.  His clothes cling to him uncomfortably, and a moment later, his phone dies, his playlist cutting off mid-song.

Then a bolt of lightning splits the sky in front of him—way too close for comfort—and Frankie knows he has to find cover.

He thinks of who he knows nearby.  He comes up short when he goes through the obvious:  Pope is somewhere in South America, both Benny and Will are on the other side of town in the opposite direction.  Frankie has a cousin nearby, he thinks, but then he remembers that she moved to Virginia last year, according to his mother.  He doesn’t know where any of his coworkers live, or anyone from his NA meetings—

The only person he can think of is you.  He’s only met you a handful of times, one of those flimsy acquaintances situations.  You were friends with a girl that Benny was dating a while back, and you had come to some of the group hangouts with her.  You had been quiet, hung at the margins like Frankie, and the two of you had shared some pleasantries.  Not enough to be friends, but you had also hosted a cookout a few summers back and invited the guys, so Frankie remembers where you live.  Nearby, thankfully.

It'll have to be enough, those handful of paltry conversations he shared with you.  Hopefully you’re home.  Hopefully you’ll answer the door to the near-stranger soaking wet on your porch.

It’s Frankie’s lucky day, it turns out.  You are home, and you do open your door to him, first with a look of puzzlement, then with a bemused smile as you usher him inside.

-----

“I’d offer you a shower, but you probably shouldn’t since there’s lightning,” you tell him. 

He’s standing in your kitchen, dripping all over your tiled floor.  You hand him a towel and watch him, that smile curving your lips as you watch him dry off as best as he can.

He’s also interrupted your cozy evening in.  You’re already in pajamas, contacts out and glasses perched on your nose.  The TV in the other room is paused, and the screen shows what looks to be a period drama of some sort.  The entire house has the warm scent of something delicious recently baked, and when Frankie glances over at the counter, he sees a pan of brownies cooling.

“I appreciate this,” he replies.  “Sorry to bust up your evening.”

 “No worries.  It’s just solo movie night.”

“Good weather for it.”

You chuckle.  “Certainly better than going for a jog.”

Frankie smiles.  “I thought I could outrun it.”

You smile back at him, then shift your gaze over his shoulder and to the window.  The storm is only picking up in intensity; the smaller trees bend in the wind, and rain comes in sideways with each gust.

“I’d also offer to drive you home, but I’m not good at driving in bad weather,” you say, the smile ceding to a grimace.  “I’m kind of a baby about it.”

“Or you’re just sensible,” he counters.

He runs the towel over his head.  Instead of being soaked, now he’s uncomfortably wet—his clothes stick to him, and he feels clammy and gross.

“I could call Will, maybe.”

Frankie shakes his head.  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, which was already outdated and nearing its end of life.  “I don’t have his number memorized.”

“Maybe Benny?”  You pause.  “Though since he dumped Emma, I’ve been sworn as his enemy.  You’d have to keep it on the down low.”

“I don’t have his number memorized either.”

There’s an uncomfortable beat of silence, then Frankie says, “if I could just wait out the worst of the storm…if I could just even sit on your porch and not bother—”

You cut him off.  “Of course you can hunker down here.  Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I don’t wait to ruin your evening—”

You cut him off again.  “You aren’t.  Solo movie night is flexible on the ‘solo’ bit.”  You gesture to the pan of brownies behind him.  “There’s plenty of snacks to go around.”

Frankie should feel bad, but now that you’re in motion, he doesn’t quite have the time to sink into any bad feelings:  you snatch the soaked towel from his hands, and you take his elbow lightly and lead him down the hallway to your bathroom.  You push him gently inside, then pivot to snag some fresh towels from the linen closet.  You toss those at him, and the entire sequence happens so fast that he blinks in surprise.

“Go ahead and dry off,” you tell him.  “I think I have some clothes that will fit you.  I can run your wet stuff through the dryer.”

“You’re sure you—” he starts to say, but you’re already closing the door on him, giving him privacy, and he hears you padding down the hallway away from him.

It’s only a few minutes later that you knock on the door again.  He opens it—still fully clothed—and you’re standing there with spare clothes for him.

“Okay, so you won’t get style points,” you say.  “But these should fit you.”

Frankie makes sure to look you in the eyes when he thanks you.  He wants you to know he’s appreciative.  You didn’t have to let him into your house at all, yet here you are, clothing him, offering to feed him, and you don’t really even know him beyond the handful of conversations you had at group events.

“I appreciate it,” he says.  “I owe you one.”

You wave that off.  “No worries.  Dry off, get changed.  The washer and dryer are off the kitchen.  You can throw your wet stuff in, then we can relax and wait out the storm.”

-----

Frankie has questions.

Firstly, there’s the grey sweatpants.  Obviously men’s sweatpants.  Obviously they belonged to some guy, though Frankie has only ever known you to be single.  He knows that sometimes women keep their guy’s shirts after a breakup because they are typically bigger and cozier, but he can’t picture you wearing these sweatpants yourself.  You’d be swimming in them—yet they seem to be lovingly preserved, scented faintly of fabric softener, and folded neatly when you hand them over.

Secondly, there’s the t-shirt.

It’s big, and while it’s clearly been worn, it’s not worn.  It’s a joke t-shirt, obviously, but Frankie is dying to know the context behind it.

The back of the shirt reads “For good news, read front.”

When Frankie flips it over, he is startled by the laugh that it draws from him.  It reads, “Big dick is back in town,” and an unsubtle red arrow underneath the text points downward.

So Frankie has questions.

-----

“Okay, so the t-shirt is from a bachelorette party,” you tell him around bites of brownie.  The two of you are on the couch, and the tray of brownies is between you.  There’s also a bottle of Merlot, which Frankie would have never thought of, but it pairs really well with the brownies.

The movie plays on the TV, but it’s long forgotten:  first, from laughing at him when he emerges from the bathroom, then from his barrage of questions that you answer diligently.

“The maid of honor got us all joke t-shirts, and we had to do a blind pull from a bag.  That’s the one I got,” you continue.

“And you had to wear it out in public?” he asks, incredulous.

You nod.  “In Vegas too.”

“Brutal.”

“Could’ve been worse.  One girl pulled a t-shirt that looked like a concert shirt with dates and locations on the back, right?  But the front read ‘Chlamydia World Tour 2008.’”

It’s strange how easily the formality between the two of you melted away.  It’s probably just the perfect blend of elements:  the raging storm outside, the coziness inside, the wine and sugar, the ridiculousness of Frankie’s outfit.  You each sit turned towards each other on the couch, far closer than Frankie’s been to you before, but it feels natural.  It feels nice, in fact, to be with someone like this—comfortable, joking.

And maybe a hint of flirting.

Frankie takes another sip of wine.  “So was it?” he asks.

“Was what?”

“Was it back in town?”

It takes you a beat, but then you get it.  Your laugh—Frankie’s never really heard it, he guesses, but it’s delightful and contagious, makes him chuckle along with you. 

“Obviously,” you reply.  “When big dick comes back to town, you even go to the effort of printing up a shirt about it.”

Frankie could get used to this, he thinks.  He likes how easy it feels to talk to you, and he really likes the glint you get in your eye when he makes the joke.  He never really noted you before, when you turned up to group events, but Frankie never really noted anyone back then.  He was too busy trying to stay afloat in his life.

“Makes me wonder where big dick goes when it’s not in town,” he muses.

“I have to imagine it’s like a carnival.  Goes town to town.”

“Winters in Florida when it’s cold.”

“And like a real carnival, when you know it’s in town, you’re excited to go see it, but also a little scared because you just know everything about it is under the table and off the books.”

Frankie laughs.  “Big dick can’t be regulated.”

You laugh too, and you swallow down the rest of the wine in your glass.  “Nor should it be.  Big dick deserves to run free.”

There’s a hundred different, filthy things Frankie could say to that.  Maybe you have the same thought because you glance at him, catch his eye, then look away.  And maybe he’d drop one of those filthy lines on you if he knew you better, but suddenly he feels like he’s behind with you—that he should have taken advantage of all those group hangouts to get to know you better. 

“What about these?” he asks instead, gesturing broadly to the sweatpants he’s wearing.  “Another bachelorette thing?’

The story of the sweatpants is sadder, but more revealing to your history.  The atmosphere turns a shade more somber:  the sweatpants belonged to your ex-husband.

“I didn’t know you were married,” Frankie says.

You shake your head.  “I haven’t been, for a long time now.  We married young and divorced young.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It happened.  It’s old news.”  You shrug, but Frankie can see you turning a bit sad, maybe introspective. 

It’s a chance to build a connection.  Frankie nods knowingly; he knows this sort of pain.

“Still hurts though,” he tells you.

Another shrug, but you look at him like you’re considering him in another light.  You make the connection.  “Yeah, that’s right,” you reply.  “You’ve been through it too, huh?”

“Two years since it was finalized.”

You settle deeper against the back of the couch.  “How are you doing?”

The question warms him.  No one ever asks him how he is.  Pope, the Millers…they have a unique closeness that comes with being brothers-in-arms, but they don’t ever probe each other’s lives or feelings.  They check in with each other, but they suffer in silence.

“I’m okay,” he replies.

You narrow your eyes.  “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”  He smiles, and he reaches for the bottle of wine on the coffee table.  He pours you another glass, and he tops his own off too.  “It’s only tough with my daughter.  Not seeing her every day, you know?”

It warms him even more, how you nod sympathetically but then encourage him to talk about his little girl—you ask a ton of questions about her, and Frankie finds himself suddenly chatty, talkative, his free hand not wrapped around the stem of his wine glass gesturing as he relates stories about his daughter, and you laugh at the funny stories, coo at the cute ones.

The evening cedes into night.  The hours melt away like nothing.  The movie on the TV ends, and the streaming app switches automatically to some reality show about rich people on boats, but you and Frankie talk.  You break away to pull together a dinner cobbled from what you have on hand:  grilled cheese, a salad of mixed greens.  Then you both settle back on the couch with another bottle of wine, and the hours unspool into the early morning.  Frankie doesn’t even notice because he’s too busy marveling at how easy, how unexpected this all is. 

He only wanted a moment of shelter from the storm—which has gentled down into a light, steady rain.  What he got was dry clothes, good food and drink, and better conversation.  He considers it a gift, this moment:  he’s gotten this chance to know you better, and he finds that you’re someone he wants to know.  Someone he wants to count as a friend, and he can see a future where he might want to count you as someone more.

You’re the one who cracks first.  You yawn, and it makes you check your phone.

“Shit, it’s late.”  You run your hands over your face and look at him.  “You wanna just crash here for the night?”

“I don’t want to put you out.”

You smile and glance at his chest, say “Big dick never puts me out,” and it takes Frankie a too-long beat to remember what he’s wearing.  It’s embarrassing that for a too-long moment, he thinks you’re blatantly coming onto him.  He gapes at you before he catches on, but then he flushes because you are flirting.

He flushes too because you realize exactly what he’s thinking.  “You forgot about the shirt for a moment, huh?” you ask.

“I did!”

You laugh, and you stand up.  You stretch a little, twist at the waist to unkink some tightness in your back, and then you look down at him.

“The couch is pretty comfortable.  You okay with that?”

He nods.  “You sure I’m not putting you out?”

Another laugh.  “I think you probably worry too much, Frankie.”  You disappear for a moment, then come back with pillows and blankets. 

“I can drive you home in the morning,” you offer.  “Whenever you need to be back.”

Frankie takes the bedding from you, and the moment has a charge of intimacy:  you’re standing close together, separated only by an armful of blankets and pillows.  The rain drums steady outside, it’s dark and late, and it feels like you’re the only two people awake in the world at the moment. 

And he hasn’t felt this good in a while.  Usually, an evening of nonstop talking would leave him drained, his social battery low, but this is different somehow.  He feels like he’s peeled back a layer of himself, exposed an inner bit of himself to you, and it doesn’t horrify him at all.  It makes him feel seen.  Conversely, he feels like he knows you far better now, and he doesn’t want any of these good feelings to evaporate when the sun rises.

“Can I take you out for breakfast?” he asks.  He drops his voice in volume, reluctant to break the spell of friendly intimacy that’s been woven.  “There’s a really good cafe if we take the scenic route to my place.”

You seem to misunderstand him.  “Oh, you don’t owe me anything,” you say.

In his civilian life, Frankie has often played it too close to the vest.  He’s let life carry him along, too passive with things both big and small.  He’s let thing happen to him rather than trying to drive the direction of his life.

He knows this moment can tip either way.  He can let the chance pass, and you can go back to being just someone he knows, someone he passed a pleasant evening with while a storm raged outside. 

Or he could lean into his Delta Force days, maybe just a little.  He can be decisive.  He can be clear in his objective.

“No,” he replies, shaking his head.  “I’d like to take you out.”

Your reaction is enough to bolster him.  First you say, “oh” and blink at him, but then you smile and add, “I’d like that.”

-----

Frankie never seems to sleep very well, but you are right:  your couch is comfortable, and the sound of the rain soothes him too.  He finds himself dropping right off, his sleep deep and restful.

His last thought before he does, though, is I can’t wait for morning.

And then it is morning, dawn about to break and the sky a pearly grey.  Frankie stands up and stretches, and he stands by the big picture window by the couch and watches as the sun breaks the line of the horizon and brings the new day with it.

It brings something else too:  for the first time in his civilian life, Frankie feels something like anticipation.  Something like hope.

[pedropascalsx]

Build Me Up Buttercup - Chapter three.

Ongoing: Yes.

Summary:  Reader has a tough interaction at work, and Frankie promises to help her forget.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: P in V sex (unprotected - wrap it up folks!), Thigh riding, tongue fucking, oral sex (fem receiving), pussy worship, overstimulation, mention of safe words (not used), choking, slight dom!frankie vibes, and some fluff!!

Read Chapter one & two - combined post - here!

It had been four days since your date with Frankie and three days since you saw him last. The date went absolutely perfectly and the rest of the evening just as well.

Sitting in the break room at work alone, you blush at the memory of him taking you against the side of his truck as you both attempted to say goodbye the following day. You not wanting to leave and him not wanting you to either, his lips crashed on to yours in the neediest way and the feeling of his half hard cock pressed against your thigh didn’t help the situation. Before you knew it, you were tugging down his jeans whilst he was lifting your dress and whispering filth into your ears.

You didn’t care about the fact it was still light outside and if anyone had glanced over or a simple look had lingered for more than a second, they would have definitely seen what you we’re doing. Instead, you just pulled him closer to you and moaned breathlessly in his ear, purring his name as he hit that blinding spot of pleasure inside of you. Relishing in the filthy feeling of his cum slowly dripping out of you as you drove home.

Thinking about you, Francisco. Always thinking about you… See you tonight. You typed out quickly to him, before finishing your lunch and returning to work. The aching you’d built up in your core thinking about him would prove to be difficult to ignore, the slick dripping from your folds and creating a wet patch in your panties making you groan. This is the effect this man has on you.

Most of the day passes quite quickly, seeing patients and working through some admin – it isn’t until the very last hour of your shift that your seemingly happy day takes a turn for the worst. A man who missed his 1.55pm appointment turns up and begins screaming at the receptionist on duty, claiming it’s her fault she missed the appointment as she should have phoned him to remind him. You step out of the clinical room you we’re working from to see what the commotion was about, and he turned his anger on to you.

You attempted to resolve the situation by offering him an early morning slot the next day, but that angered him further. He screamed profanities and insults a few inches from your face for what seemed like forever until the security guard finally made his way inside and forced him out of the building. Apologising profusely to the patient in your room, you finished up with them and then the tears began to fall. You choked back hard sobs as the cruel words and disgusting way he spoke to you lingered in your brain.

INCOMING CALL: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales.

The vibrations from your desk made you jump slightly, and a warm feeling begins to spread in the pit of your stomach when you see his picture flashing up across your screen. You took the picture the morning after your date, a wide smile across his cheeks as he cooked you pancakes – the smile deep enough to reveal the adorable dimple on one of his cheeks.

“Hey, baby, do you need me to bring anything tonight?” he says quickly, and you smile at his usage of your favourite endearment.

“Just yourself, and the usual case of beer,” you reply, trying to hide the shakiness in your voice. It doesn’t work.

“Baby? What happened? Are you okay?” the tone of his voice changing as the worry seeps in between every word.

“Stupid patient. Missed his appointment and yelled in my face,” you say with a shrug, “Shouldn’t have let it get to me.”

“No, that fucking asshole shouldn’t have fucking yelled at you, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’ll be fine. Just feeling a little sensitive.”

“Promise to make you forget all about it, when we’re alone tonight.” He soothes through the phone and your body involuntarily clenches around nothing at the deep baritone of his voice lulling through your ears.

“Spent the whole day thinking about you, Frankie. I have one more person to see. Can’t be distracted by thinking about you speaking to me like that, baby.”

“Like what?” he says teasingly in that same rich tone.

“You have absolutely no idea what you’ve done to me already today without even knowing.” You admit with a slight smile.

“Care to elaborate, pretty baby?” and it’s like you can hear his smile.

“Later. See you in just over an hour. Don’t forget your overnight bag, I don’t intend on waking up tomorrow without you.”

“Already in my truck, see you soon, baby.”

You hang up the phone and you instantly feel better, you call in your next patient and the rest of your shift passes by without a hitch.

The boys are all coming around tonight. It’s not the typical game night, but a baseball team are one game off cinching their division and they’re thinking tonight is the night.

Benny is already in the kitchen and on the phone to a local pizza joint confirming the ridiculously large order that was placed and paid for a few days previously. He nods at you as you enter still speaking to the owner and you pour yourself a much-needed glass of red.

You shower as quickly as you can, feeling a little ashamed that you bought your glass of wine into the bathroom with you. Taking large gulps in between washing your hair and shaving your legs. You slip on a yellow sundress, blow-dry your hair and reapply your usual minimal make up before going to help Benny set up.

“So, first time everyone is seeing you and Frankie since you started… what? Dating?” Benny says with a slight grin as you enter the room, and butterflies appear in your stomach. You can’t deny being a little nervous, obviously Benny had seen him pick you up for your date but tonight was going to be the first time, you’d hung out with everyone as his girl.

You nod at him, and he laughs at your display of shyness, “Don’t worry, Buttercup. We know you won’t take advantage of our friend.”

Santi arrives first, arms laden with beer and snacks. Marlins cap placed firmly on his head, he greets you with a signature wink and begins yelling at Benny about setting up the TV not wanting to miss a single second of a game not due to start for another hour.

Tom and Will arrive next – Will popping into the kitchen to pull you into a brief hug before joining the guys in the living room to discuss the upcoming game.

“Did Benny order the pizza?” Will asks you as you enter the room.

“He ordered an absurd amount of pizza.” You confirm with a smile.

You chat quietly to Tom for a few minutes about an upcoming shopping date you have planned with his wife, and he rolls his eyes recalling the list of items she’s planning on picking up for their teenage daughter. “How can someone who spends 95% of her spare time in her room, still cost me so much money?”

The sound of Frankie’s truck pulling up sends a shiver down your spine, Benny running over to whip the door open so he can waltz right in, and when he does the urge to wrap your arms around him and pull him into a kiss is unbearably tempting but you also don’t want to embarrass him. So, you figure you’ll stand back and wait until he makes his way to you. You’ve been clutching a beer for him in your hand for the past few minutes and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by the guys.

He looks good. Really good. Like really, really, really good. Wearing a fitted blue shirt with the top 3 buttons undone that shows off his perfectly broad shoulders in a way that makes you want to dig your nails into them, and a pair of dark blue jeans. You smile at the lack of his trusty hat, and the sight of his light brown curls falling effortlessly down his head. He greets the guys with a nod and Santi pulls him in for a hug, and then his eyes finally meet yours.

You don’t miss how his eyes dip up and down over the length of you a few times, clearly enjoying the yellow sundress you bought to impress him. You reach out your hand to pass him the bottle of beer you’ve been holding for him, and you smile at the way he briefly traps your fingers under his. “You look beautiful, baby” he whispers in your ear before you pull the overnight bag off his shoulders and quietly take it in your room, leaving him to converse with the guys.

You pretty much hang back for the majority of the evening feeling a little in the way, you’re a bit disappointed the guys didn’t bring the girls along to keep you company – so you hang back and start preparing napkins and paper plates for the incoming pizza delivery.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t hear or see Frankie come in until he rests a large palm of the small of your back, you go to speak but he pulls you in for a deep kiss. “Wanted to do that the moment I saw you,” he breathes into your lips peppering a few kisses between each word.

“I wanted you to.” You quietly admit whilst resting your forehead against his, “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby. It was the greatest feeling waking up with you still curled up in my arms on Sunday,” he gently begins kissing your face and down across to your earlobe before nibbling it playfully before whispering in your ear, “Missed fucking you into my mattress moments after you woke up, mhmm and hearing you moan my name as you came all over my cock.”

“Frankie,” you gasp, and he flips you around to face him and he presses himself up against you, the thickness of his semi-hard cock against your thigh making you bite down hard on your lower lip, “Fuck, I need you.”

A low throaty chuckle escapes his mouth as he gently pulls apart your legs and carefully slides one of his legs between yours. Pressing you against the kitchen counter as he encourages you to roll down on his thigh, his hands finding your hips as you take your first experimental roll. The friction of his jeans and the hard plain of his thick thigh makes you moan into the crook of his neck. “Shush, baby,” he whispers in your ear, as you find your rhythm. The way you’re stood isn’t the most comfortable position but the way he’s encouraging you to find relief from the ache you’ve had built inside you all day is exhilarating, “Keep going, good girl” he encourages as he hikes your dress up high enough to reveal the lace panties you’re currently soaking through, “Fuck,” he murmurs as he runs his fingertips across the material before pulling them to the side, “Want you dripping wet. Want plenty to taste, when I get you into bed later,” his filth flooding your ears as he brings one hand up off of your hip to cup your cheek bringing you into a kiss. Your soft whimpers being breathed into his mouth as the fiction on your bundle of nerves becomes too much and you cum on his thigh leaving a small patch of wetness.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you mumble into the crook of his neck, as he wraps his arms around your waist, “They could have walked in, fuck. What are you doing to me?”

“Keeping my promise,” he says with a wink as he pulls you in for another kiss, “Come watch the game with us, baby.” He grabs the stack of paper plates and napkins you piled up in one hand and entangled your fingers with his in the other.

Many slices of pizza, and half a bottle of wine later you’re snuggled up to Frankie on the sofa – half watching the game, half going back and forth with Santi who’s made it his mission to tease you and Frankie all night. One arm wrapped around your shoulder, and the other moving his knuckles up and down your side. Occasionally whispering the sweetest words in your ear and then moving back to whisper pure filth.

You notice the way his mouth curls up at the sight of you squeezing your thighs together as he promises to make you cum in his mouth over and over.

“So, what are the plans for next Friday?” Tom asks pulling you out of the little spell Frankie had put you under.

“Birthday boy mans the BBQ and buys the beer,” Benny says with a smirk glancing over at Frankie, “Ain’t that right, Cisco?”

“Fine by me. As long as none of you fuckers turn up,” he counters back with a bigger smirk, “Except this one.” His says whilst giving you an obvious squeeze and you blush.

The conversation resumes and plans are made official, everyone including wives/girlfriends at Frankies by 6:30pm and everyone brings a case of beer and a bottle of wine.

“You never told me it’s your birthday next week.” you mumble into his neck.

“You never asked.” He says with a cheeky wink.

“I never asked if it was your birthday next week? Mhmm. Good point.” you say slightly shoving his shoulder.

After the game went into extras and the team managed to clinch their division, Santi suggests a short walk down to a local bar for a few more drinks. Benny, Will and Tom practically jump off their feet at the suggestion before turning their attentions to you and Frankie, “I’m wiped,” you say with a slight shrug, “Yeah, I’m pretty beat too,” Frankie agrees with a smirk.

“Picking sex over hanging out with your friends? Disgraceful.” Santi shouts whilst disappearing out of the door and you hear Will and Benny groan in reply.

And the moment they’re gone, you’re on him. It’s like something snaps within you and you’re flipping over to straddle him, lips hungrily chasing his, licking your way into his mouth and running your fingers through his messy hair. “Fucking missed you,” he grits out into your mouth as you tighten your grip on his hair, “Fucked my hand so many times thinking about you.”

“Funny, because I’ve been thinking about those hands non-stop, baby,” you whimper into his lips.

“My hands?”

“Mhmm. I fucking love your hands, Francisco.”

“Tell me,” He orders moving his lips down to your neck and sucking gentle bruises into your soft skin, “What was I doing with my hands?”

“Touching me, squeezing my tits, stretching me out with your -ah, frankie- thick fingers and mhmm wrapping your hands around my neck as you fuck your big hard cock into me.”

“Fuck,” he grits out, removing his mouth from your neck “You want to feel my hands around that pretty little throat, baby?”

“Yes. Need it,” you groan as your hips seek friction beneath you, “Need you. Now.”

Without a single beat he’s pushing you up onto your feet and guiding you into your room, your dress being peeled off the second your door slams shut – falling to your ankles as he hungrily grabs at your ass. “Want to do terrible things to you on that bed, sweet baby.”

“I want you to, need you to make me yours.”

“You already are,” he replies with a growl, unhooking your bra as quickly as he can and discarding just as fast. You moan when his large calloused palms reach up to squeeze them whilst his tongue dances against yours, “Fucking love these titties.”

He lowers you down on the edge of your bed and lowers down onto his knees, “Gonna worship this pretty little pussy tonight, baby girl.”

He spreads your legs as wide as he can before closing him self into the space, peppering kisses on your still clothed mound, parting his mouth to let the lacy fabric of your panties to tickle his plush lips. He licks a wide stripe up and down before tearing off your panties. His tongue delving into your already soaked folds, lapping up your arousal with delight. “So, fucking wet for me, pretty girl.” He snarls before continuing his delicious assault on your sensitive nub, licking up and down and gently sucking on it as your fingers lock up in his hair. Moaning his name over and over until your thighs tremble, and you can no longer speak – breathlessly moaning as your pleasure centre explodes and you’re reduced to a sobbing mess as he keeps his tongue moving throughout your high. Only stopping when you jerk away from overstimulation.

“Good fucking girl, but I’m not finished down here yet,” he grits before licking down to your entrance, lapping up the still leaking stream of arousal from your orgasm, before pushing his tongue deep inside of you and out again, repeating this over and over until you’re writhing around in pleasure and then drawing large circles of your still sensitive clit with his thumb. Only satisfied when you begin to tremble again, when your chanting of his name dies down to broken gasps and you’re pushing his face deeper into your core as a second orgasm rips through your body.

“Frankie,” you whisper you feel your pussy clenching around his tongue, “Frankie.”

He slowly removes himself from your drenched core, moving up and over your body to drop a fleeting peck to your lips, “I’m here, baby, I’ve got you,” he soothes as he moves the hair stuck to your damp forehead, “Are you coming back to me, querida?”

You open your eyes and release your teeth from your bottom lip before nodding slowly, watching a bright smile break out across his gorgeous face, “You are incredible, Francisco,” You mumble before cupping his cheek and bringing him down for a kiss, “But you’re also painfully dressed.”

The low chuckle he breathes out makes you clench again; the deep raspy baritone of his voice makes you feel like you could cum just from listening to the noises he makes alone.

Without any real care he starts ripping open the buttons of his shirt and throwing it to the ground. He keeps his eyes on you as he undoes the buttons of his jeans and pulls them down, his hardened cock instantly springing free due to his lack of underwear and your mouth salivates at the sight. Tip bright red and steadily leaking pearly drops of pre-cum, hanging heavily between his legs. Fuck. Your legs automatically widening further as your walls flutter in anticipation for that glorious stretch.

He swipes his thumb across the top, collecting a bead of his arousal and he brings it up to your mouth. Rubbing his cum across your bottom lip and watching as you slowly poke your tongue out to taste him on your lip. “So good.” You croak out, wanting more, “So fucking good.”

He growls out and you can’t help but moan at the filthy sound, “That’s my girl,” he groans, “So fucking filthy. So, fucking perfect.”

He grips the base of his cock and slowly swipes it through your folds, the underside of his throbbing length being coated in your slick. “You feel so good, baby,” he praises as you begin to rock your hips up into his movements.

His free hand finds your hip and he stops moving, slightly moving his cock up and away from your folds, his eyes lock into yours as he begins to slap your clit with the head of cock. Filthy moans escaping your lips, “Fuck, Frankie, please.” you beg as he grunts in pleasure.

“Please, what, baby? Use your fucking words.” The rasp of his voice making you quiver beneath him.

“Fuck me, please, n-need you to fuck me,” you beg, as he continues slapping your bundle of nerves with his cock, “Please.”

“Mhmm, I think I need to make you cum like this first. Use the tip of my cock on that pretty little clit,” he soothes before he stops the slapping and gently moves it up and down against your nub, “Don’t you want me to make you cum like this, pretty girl?”

You groan underneath him, “Yes.”

He continues rubbing the tip against you, occasionally slapping it against you again until your third orgasm arrives. His fingers replacing his cock as you ride it out by screaming his name. “You’re doing so fucking well, carino.”

You pull him in for another quick kiss, before he presses himself up against your entrance. “Ready for me, baby?” he asks with a wink.

“Always.”

You take a deep inhale as you prepare for his delicious stretch, he guides himself into you and sweet praises drop from his lips throughout. Inch by inch, you gasp in delight until he’s filled you to the hilt. Every part of him buried deep inside your warm soft cunt, ready for him to start moving and ready to feel him come apart inside of you.

His thrusts start off harder than usual, still not too rough, but hard enough to make you gulp at his pace. His hands grip on both of your hips whilst you squeeze your tits for him, watching his jaw drop open at the display you’re putting on for him, “Good girl,” he mumbles, as you take your left nipple in between your fingers and roll it around. It doesn’t take long under he’s bending over to take it into his mouth, continuing to pound in and out of you, pace increasing as you start to dig your fingernails into his shoulder blades, creating the half-moon crescents that brand him as yours.

“You remember your safe word?” he whispers into your sensitive nipple before taking it back into his mouth.

“Yes.” You say as a delicious feeling of anticipation spreads through you.

He releases your nipple you a loud pop, and moves up to kiss your lips, the pressure of his lips on yours hard and needy. “If you can’t say it, you tap my hand twice, okay? And I’ll stop immediately.”

“Yes, tap your hand twice.”

“Good girl.”

He moves back up and his pace becomes unrelenting, finding that spot that only he’s been able to find so effortlessly and then his large palm spreads around your throat. Applying the lightest amount of pressure as he gloriously fucks himself into you, “Fucking love this pussy,” he grunts out, as your hips roll up and down in time with his. The sound of slapping skin and filthy moans filling the air around you, as his grip on your throat tightens.

His other hand leaves your hip and moves down in between your bodies, his thumb once again finding your clit, “You’re going to cum aren’t you, baby? Can feel how tight you’re gripping me, dirty girl,” he rasps out, “Cum for me, cum on my cock, pretty girl.” He pressure of his thumb increasing on your bundle of nerves at the same time the grip on your neck gets harder, “F-fra-Frankie” you stutter out, as white blinding pleasure overwhelms your body, your back arching and your walls tightening around him harder than ever, as his thumb shows no signs of slowing down, intent on rubbing your clit as you ride out your orgasm. You don’t know how long it lasts, but your body convulses desperately beneath him, like electric shocks tearing through you as you cum. Harder and stronger than you ever have before.

“Fuck,” you choke out as you fall back down into the bed, feeling his thrusts get sloppier and sloppier.

“Going to fill this pussy right up, baby, make it mine,” he stutters out, a longer pause between each word as he begins to paint your walls. The warmth of his cum making you moan as you feel each rope coat your insides. The moment his cock finally stops pulsing, he pulls out and falls back down on to his knees. Watching your fluttering hole and making sure to push every glob of his cum back inside of you.

You lay there motionless, feeling thoroughly fucked and exhausted in the best possible way.

He says nothing as he goes into your bathroom to dampen a cloth to clean you up with, before discarding it to one side and pulling you up into the bed and under the covers with him.

He pulls you onto his chest and lazily drops kisses on to you scalp as he wraps his arms around you, holding you as tightly as he can as you start to drift off. Exhaustion taking over both of you sated bodies, “The past few weeks with you have been incredible, querida, I can’t wait to spend more time with you.” He whispers into the top of your head as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, you pepper a loving kiss into his warm skin before replying, “Me too, baby.”

[foli-vora]

more than words, pt.4

A/N: Hello, angels! I hope you’re all safe and healthy! Next instalment is here, and I’m very excited for what’s coming. I really enjoyed writing this chapter so I hope you enjoy, too! Love to you all! (I hope I haven’t forgotten to tag anyone but if I did, I’m really sorry!)

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader, best friend!Benny Miller x f!reader

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF, swearing, brief alcohol mention, bit of spice (reminder: this fic is 18+), Frankie being the tease he is

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.5 / pt.6

+

Your lips were still tingling when you woke the next morning, eyes fluttering open and a smile creeping onto your face as the events from last night replay through your mind for the millionth time. Frankie had been on your mind the entire drive home, the tenderness of his first kiss kicking your heart into double time, and the pure unrestrained passion of the kiss that followed hitting a far lot lower.

Was it possible for a first date to go as well as it did? There wasn’t a single moment in your time spent with Frankie that had you unsure about his character or intentions.

Benny had actually done it. He had found you a guy you really liked. Is Hell freezing over?

You reach for your phone as you slip from bed, stretching leisurely as you make your way to the kitchen, and finding Benny’s contact before pressing ‘call’. It takes a few rings, until his drawl finally greets you through the phone.

“Did you puke?” is his immediate answer and you roll your eyes, tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder as you putter around your kitchen putting some breakfast together.

“No, you asshole.”

He laughs. “He’s that whipped, he’d probably thank you.”

What? What does that mean? Has Frankie spoken to Benny? Did he talk about last night? What did he say? Did he think it went as well as you did? Shit. Calm down. You try to steady your suddenly quickening pulse, a pleasant flutter consuming your stomach as you attempt to sound casual.

“Oh? Has he said something?”

Benny’s voice is sly, teasing – he knows you far too well. “Maybe.”

“What do you mean ‘maybe’?”

“Maybe I’m sitting next to him right now. And maybe he’s sitting here blushin’ like a little –” Benny grunts suddenly, seemingly in pain, and the phone crackles as he shifts on the other end, “don’t fuckin’ kick me. Anyway, Fish wants to know what you’re wearing.”

You hear him then, raspy voice piping up in the background with an aghast ‘What?! No–’ and then there’s more scuffling, more grunts of pain, and Benny’s snort of laughter.

“What are you even doing up?” Benny redirects his attention to you after a few minutes of bickering with Frankie, words muffled as he talks around whatever food he has rolling around his mouth. He had noted the early time when your face had flashed over his screen, wondering what could’ve possibly gotten you up and out of bed so early on a day off.

You shrug lightly, even though he couldn’t see it, and prepare your pancake batter. “Just couldn’t sleep in.”

He’s quiet, chewing thoughtfully and then asking softly, “You okay?”

“Yeah – I’m fine, just bored sitting at home. For some reason, I wanted to see what you were up to and if you wanted to hang out, but you’re busy so never mind.”

Benny laughs, “Aw, you missin’ me, angel?” he teases.

“Ugh, I take it back. I’d rather sit here in silence and stare at my wall.”

You can hear him laughing even as you pull your phone away and press the red button, shaking your head and smiling to yourself.

-

A week passes by before you even know it, work taking over much of your week, and much to your delight, Frankie had eagerly organised another night to meet up. You had talked all week of course – a phone call every evening once Mena had been put down for the night, texts here and there throughout the day, and when he had asked if you were free at all over the weekend, you had agreed without a second thought.

Eagerness buzzes through your system the entire day of the date and the drive to the restaurant, a much welcome change from the anxiety riddled one before. It was a breath of fresh air.

Frankie was waiting for you, as he said he would, leaning against the wall of the restaurant and a smile immediately widening his features when his eyes find you.

This time there was no hesitation, no voice in the back of your mind wondering how to tackle the situation. As soon as you saw him – you couldn’t help yourself – you were in his arms and giving him a soft kiss in greeting. Pleasantly surprised, he smiles against your lips, arms winding around your waist, and the electric tingles that rocket up from your palm when his rough hand gently takes yours has your heart going wild in your chest.

It’s dinner instead of drinks this time, and the two of you squeeze yourselves into one side of the leather booths, instead of sitting opposite each other. You order quickly, and sip at your beer while you listen to Frankie talk about his week, the conversation soon moving in all sorts of directions as you wait for your food.

“How could you not?” You cry at one point, slapping a hand on the table and watching his shoulders shake as he laughs, stomach twisting at the pleasant sound of it.  “The universe is huge – like, huge. We are not alone.” You say ominously, and he laughs harder, head hitting the back of the booth.

“Where’s the proof?”

“What?”

“The proof! If it’s so big and we’re not the only ones here, where is everyone?”

“It’s a cover up.” You sniff indifferently, sipping your drink and fighting the twitches threatening to turn your pursed lips into a smile. “Oh my god, you were in the military – are you in on it?”

He’s struggling to breathe, cheeks aching under the grin stretching his features and stomach starting to cramp. “In on what?”

“That’s it! You’re part of the cover up!”

“Yeah, you’ve got me. I was actually a part of a crew chasing away UFO’s.”

No longer able to keep it in, you erupt into a fit of violent giggles, melting over the table top and letting the laughter shake your frame. Frankie watches you fondly, affection flooding his system and causing his insides to warm pleasantly.

He was still trying to work out how he was here, with a beautiful woman, having great conversations, fun conversations, and laughing more than he had in… shit… a long time. It was refreshing and, if he were completely honest with himself, slightly nerve-wracking. Nothing ever stays so perfect, and that thought had him ensuring he was enjoying every second he could with you before you inevitably realised you were incredibly out of his league and went looking elsewhere.

But… how could you ever? When you peak up at him, you can’t help but study the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way his dimples deepen in his cheek, and you honestly couldn’t imagine anywhere else in the world you’d rather be. It was… scary. You’d only known him a couple of weeks, and you were feeling like this?

The night melts away before you both even know it happens and soon, you’re snatching up the bill before he can move, and walking out onto the street, Frankie’s arm slung around your shoulders and keeping you pressed close up to his side as a sharp late evening breeze sweeps through you both.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“Chickens?”

“I’m sorry, but have you ever been chased by a rooster? Those things are fucking vicious, Frankie.”

He grins, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Okay, well what about you?”

“Heights.”

What?

You frown, “But you’re a pilot?”

“I can handle heights if I can control the situation. Flying is easy – I know what to do when I need to do it. It’s when something’s out of my control – falling off a cliff and shit. It’s just… a long way down.” He’s quiet, obviously dwelling on something before he’s shaking his head and smiling, “Do you have a favourite book?”

The short walk to your car takes longer with the leisurely pace you both had unconsciously set, wanting to milk the remaining minutes of the date as much as you could before having to part ways.

“Thank you for dinner.” He spins you into his arms and you laugh quietly, smiling.

“You’re welcome.”

Silence falls over you both as you regard the other.

Frankie… your voice is so quiet, the soft whisper of it dances in his ears, igniting a fire through his veins. He unconsciously presses himself closer, lost in the way your lashes flutter when you look at him. You raise a hand, fingers trailing softly against his jaw and he turns his face into your touch, chasing the feeling of your warm fingertips as they glide up and around his neck.

“Kiss me?”

He smiles, enjoying the way your face scrunches slightly as he nuzzles his nose against yours, “Say please,” he mutters playfully, grin widening when you breathe a quiet giggle.

“Please kiss me, Francisco.”

Oh shit.

You don’t miss the way his face slackens for a brief moment, eyes widening and breath seemingly getting caught in his throat. He swallows, the flicker of a flame that had been burning lowly in his stomach suddenly blazes red hot and then he’s moving, hands cupping your cheeks and claiming your mouth with an intensity that had your knees buckling the second his lips touched yours.

You melt instantly, unable to stop the small whimper that bubbles from your mouth as his tongue traces teasingly along your lip. You open your mouth automatically, tongue immediately sliding greedily along his. His mouth was hot, rough against yours, and the grunt he lets out when your fingers dig into the dark curls at the nape of his neck has a delicious heat shooting to your core, your hips rolling against his.

Fuck. Did you just grind on him?

The sudden stab of panic at potentially going too far is quickly extinguished when his hands fly to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer and keeping you tight up against him while his fingers dig hungrily into your flesh.

The sudden blaring of a car alarm has you both jumping apart and a mile high, Frankie’s hands tightening on you instinctively, and it’s not until you look around that you discover it’s your car making that God awful noise that is ripping your ear drums apart.

“Shit,” you fumble for your keys, quickly pressing the button while Frankie chuckles into the skin of your throat, hands softly rubbing up and down along your waist to calm you. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s my fault.” He grins, not at all remorseful for causing such a big disturbance. “It was probably for the best – any longer and we might’ve been arrested for indecent exposure.” The words are growled playfully against your skin, but you can’t help thinking he wasn’t far from the truth. You laugh, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso and placing a final kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Drive safe,” you say as he begins to pull back, and he smiles warmly at you.

“You too.”

You slip into your car, watch him disappear down the street and sigh dreamily, body working on auto-pilot for the drive home while your head remains firmly in the clouds. You could only hope you had actually somewhat paid attention to the road and didn’t miss any stop signs or red lights.

Your phone goes off in your hand when you eventually walk through the door to your apartment, and you read the text as you shrug off your jacket. Your eyes have to read it back and forth a few times before the words actually sink in, and then you’re holding it to your chest, delicately cradling the device while you rest heavily on your door, heat flushing along your cheeks.

I’ve thought about whether or not I should say this the entire drive home, but fuck it... miss you already.

Well, fuck.

-

Delivering a sharp little karate chop to the remaining flat cushion on your couch to fluff it, you place it with the others and then neaten the edges of the blanket hanging over the back, casting one final glance around your apartment and trying to imagine seeing it through a visitor’s eyes.

Clean.

Really clean.

Frankie was picking you up for a ‘mystery date’, which meant – naturally – you had spent the entire day scrubbing every surface in your apartment until it looked like you semi-had your life together. Did you inhale more bleach than what is probably considered healthy? Most definitely. Do you regret it? No. Will your apartment ever be this clean again? Also probably a no.

Checking the time, you’re startled to see how long you had spent fluffing fucking pillows and chant curses as you run to your room, kicking the clothes you rip off under your bed to deal with later and quickly pulling on the outfit it had definitely not taken you two hours to decide on. Your eyes dart to the alarm clock next to your bed when a knock on the door echoes throughout your small home.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, he’s on time –

God, why can’t he just show up half an hour late like the others? You immediately regret giving him the code to your building… that could’ve bought you an extra few minutes.

Stupid perfect face with his stupid perfect punctuality –

You open the door with a grin, hoping your forehead doesn’t look as sweaty as it feels, face softening when you find Frankie standing on the other side with a little potted houseplant cradled in his palms. He sees your eyes fall to it curiously and holds it out to you, your fingers brushing his when you carefully take it from his hands.

“You said flowers make you sad when they die, so…” he shrugs lightly, a gentle smile curling his lips.

Oh.

Emotion claws at your throat as your fingers trace the patterned leaves softly. Not only had he paid attention and actually listened to you during your many conversations, he had gone out of his way to find you a gift you could nurture, one that wouldn’t inevitably end up in the trash after a week or two of blossoming.

You swallow the sudden lump in your throat, clearing your throat quietly before glancing up at him, shy and overwhelmed by the wave of adoration that inundates you.

“Thank you, Frankie. I love it.”

And he knows you really do. He can hear it in your voice, sees the gratitude shining in your eyes. He follows you as you turn back into your apartment, eyes following you fondly as you walk around, eyeing potential places to situate your new addition.

“I think he looks good there.” You say, turning to confirm his approval over your shoulder after you situate it in the middle of your small dining table. He smiles, nodding his support and watching you turn back to look at the plant, taking his own little minute to admire you and the way you look bathed in the bright afternoon sun shining through your windows.

Fuck. He was captivated, completely infatuated by someone he had only known, what – three weeks? He should be nervous, should be alarmed that such strong feelings had developed so quickly, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything other than joy – hope. Maybe this could be it, you and him. Endgame.

Fuck. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

His arms open automatically when you saunter up to him, enveloping you into a warm embrace while you press an appreciative kiss to his cheek.

“So, this mystery date,” you say, pulling back to gaze up at him while your hands wrap loosely around his neck, “will I need a jacket?”

“Yes,” he nods, grinning when your brows pinch in contemplation. “You’ll never guess so don’t hurt you head trying.” Lips press against your forehead and you press back into the soft touch, heart jumping at the tender gesture.

-

“Minigolf?” You question, looking up at the colourful entrance.

“Is that okay? If not, we can go somewhere else –”

He’s nervous – you can hear it in his voice.

Easing his anxiety, you shake your head and grin, “It’s perfect.”

You watch him relax, a pleased smile curling his lips, and then your hand is in his as he leads you through the gate and to the reception area to pay. The both of you meander outside once collecting your clubs and balls, and you feel childishly giddy at all the bright colours and fun obstacles set throughout, bouncing slightly in excitement as you walk to the first hole.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” He asks around a grin, head tilting as he watches you set up and take your position.

“This isn’t my first time,” you hum, shifting on your feet and lining up your shot. Swinging the golf club gently, you watch the neon orange ball bounce along the walls and finish up teeteringly on the edge of the cup before falling in with a satisfying clunk.

“Oh, by the way,” you spin, smirking, “I kick ass at minigolf.”

“Good,” he returns your smirk, gently nudging you out the way, “I don’t have to take it easy on you, then.”

What had started out as fun, quickly becomes competitive, and with competition comes foul play. Frankie had pinched your sides when you went to hit your ball, your body jolting with a yelp of surprise as he exploited your ticklish spots. In return, you knocked his golf club when he swung, and giggled wildly when he immediately turned on you, wrapping you in a tight hold and raining scratchy kisses along your throat in punishment.

The afternoon melts into evening with mix of steady conversation, laughter and hidden kisses behind obstacles – Frankie stealing the breath right from your lungs when he crowds you against the side of the colourfully decorated windmill and claims your mouth, the crowds of other couples and families wandering around the course oblivious to the two of you hidden in the shadows.

If he was trying to work you up, it was working. He had to know what he was doing to you, had to know how all-consuming his presence was when he swept you up into kiss after kiss. You were so wrapped up in the touches he would caress you with, so focused on the feel of his moustache as it tickled the skin above your lip, that you were completely unaware you were losing… until you peaked at the card Frankie kept sticking out of his back pocket (totally not because you were checking out his ass) and the wave of vicious competitiveness shadows the overwhelming desire to jump him right in the middle of the course on the artificial turf.

Payback.

The next course, you took your short as normal, squirming as you feel Frankie come to stand right behind you. Focus –

Breathe, he’s not there. Breathe, he’s not there. Breathe –

Goosebumps rise along your arms in waves, the skin on the back of your neck prickling as he ghosts his curved nose down the column of your throat, your head tilting ever so slightly to allow him more access.

Fuck. No, breathe –

You swing the club, satisfaction rolling through you when the ball ends up in the cup perfectly in one shot. He’s slightly shocked, incredibly impressed, and presses a soft kiss of praise just below your ear. You watch as he takes your place, dropping his ball on the ground and readying his posture.

God, you need to stop looking at him like that.

The golf club feels loose in his grip, palms clammy from the fiery gaze locked onto the back of his neck as he hunches over for his turn. He feels a presence behind him but doesn’t pay any mind to it, and instead pays all of his attention to lining up the ball, mentally calculating what sort of angle he’d need to get it through the tunnel and around the winding corners to the cup a short dip below.

The cool puff of air suddenly blowing past and tickling his ear makes him fumble, the ball missing the tunnel and bouncing off of the sides and rolling back to his feet. He sighs, eyeing you over his shoulder with a playful frown as you blink innocently back at him.

He lines up again, tensing when warm hands work their way under his jacket, resting softly on his hips. He could feel the heat of your palms through his t-shirt and clears his throat, shifting on his feet and trying to focus back on the ball. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, teeth nipping lightly at his skin when he swings the golf club softly. Another miss. Frankie watches the ball return again, stopping at his feet with a light knock to his shoe.

“Yeah, that’s right, Morales – I’m onto you.” Your soft voice rings in his ear and he grins, knocking the ball into position with his club. “You may play dirty… but I do, too – try again.”

The words settle hotly in his stomach.

“You think you can win?”

“I know I can.” You all but purr into his ear.

He blocks you out then, focusing everything he has on getting that stupid fucking pink ball through the tunnel. He’s got it this time. This time –

Fingers dive under his shirt and his stomach jumps as they trace along his hot skin, slowly following along the waistband of his jeans teasingly. Fire shoots through his veins, muscles clenching under the feather light touches, your nails softly dragging along his skin.

Fucking Christ –

“Are you just going to stand here all day, Francisco?” You question slyly, voice soft and mocking. At your teasing, both verbal and physical, he hits the ball a little harder than intended and it bounces off the turf entirely and into the bushes lining the course.

You’re smug as you watch it disappear into the shrubs, “I’d say that’s forfeit.”

You go to step away when he starts to turn, but a hand grabs your wrist and keeps you flush against him, your insides somersaulting as his dark eyes burn through you.

“You’re trouble.” He accuses gruffly, heart still hammering in his chest while his skin burns from the ghost of your touches.

“You love it.”

He does.

Fuck, he does. Too much.

“Come on, loser,” you murmur, lips leaving a whisper of a kiss against his. “I’m hungry.” And with that, you turn, winking cheekily at him from over your shoulder, and he watches you walk away with a dumbfounded expression before he follows along behind you, jeans feeling a little tighter than what they did before.

-

The tension is stifling in the truck on the drive home. You feel your heart beating in your ears, the anticipation bubbling in your chest growing with every mile Frankie travels closer to your apartment. You were aching. Physically in fucking pain, and rubbing your thighs together was doing nothing to soothe the insistent throbbing from your core.

All that playful teasing, the touches and the rough kisses during the day, had caught up, and it was destroying you.

Frankie had briefly mentioned Mena staying with his parents for the night, and it had kickstarted your thoughts into overdrive. Was that a hint? Was he giving you a green light to potentially take this further? Was he saying he would be open to staying over? Was he asking to?

You were worried you were thinking on it too much, maybe getting the wrong idea and he was just expressing how nice it would be to have a night all to himself, but then his hand landed on your thigh and squeezed, and any inklings of doubt all but vanished.

He watches you from the corner of his eye, trying to focus on the road and not the way you keep shifting in your seat. He feels every time you squeeze your thighs together, feels the muscles move under his hand, and he physically has to stop himself from making a noise every time you do. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him?

Your building comes into view and then he’s pulling up outside, removing his hand from your thigh and throwing the truck into park, letting it idle while you study the structure and get your thoughts together. Swallowing the sudden spike of nerves that settle in your stomach, you look to Frankie and find him already watching you quietly.

For a moment, you say nothing, and he doesn’t bother filling the silence. He lets you have all the time you need while you decide on your next move. Not that you need much time – you know exactly what you want.

“Do you want to come up?” You ask quietly, watching his eyes darken as they flicker to your building before returning to you. You watch his Adams apple bob as he swallows, and then he’s nodding, turning the keys in the ignition and the truck cuts out beneath you.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh @peterhollandkait @sara-alonso @starlightsearches @bookishofalder @empress-palpat1ne @shadowolf993 @rosiefridayrogersunday @canyonmirrors @eoz-stuff @blackonemasie​ @layniapetrovnaaa​ @alberta-sunrise​ @betterthanbucky​ @linkpk88​ @afootnoteinyourhappiness​ @livilottie​ @hailmaryyramliah​ @kesskirata​ @blueeyesatnight​ @a-perfct-stranger​

[ohheyitsokay]

Okay so I finally came up with a Soulmate AU request to celebrate your (very well-deserved) milestone! How about a soulmark au with poly frontier? I’m really curious to hear your thoughts on how everyone would handle having the same mark as four other people! (Aside from Will and Benny of course - so maybe everyone else has two marks while they each have one??) - Ghost

ghost, my first fandom friend, by biggest encourager of self-indulgent chaos... I sincerely hope you enjoy

warnings: this takes place "in" my poly frontier au, which means it's 18+.

and by in, I mean this is an au to my au, so just... yeah. you know what's happening.

<<

soulmate requests / follower celebration

>>

They knew, deep down that they were soulmates before the marks came in solid.

Even when there was just the faintest echo of shading, almost a bruise of a moment, they already knew.

Because the four of them, and Tom, had willing gone to hell and back with each other. They had felt the lifeblood bleed out of each other, and given their very breath to try to make up for it, sacrificed... everything, for each other. Not for their country, like the thought, and it wasn't even for the greater good that they survived - it was the men who's eyes found each other's across the fire that fortified their souls. And they'd been pushed and pulled and stretched together, and when only four remained, thoroughly broken and then healing together, they knew.

Months into therapy, each on their own, and a lifetime into tired phonecalls with quiet apologies, the tattoos solidified.

It was Santi who organized the dinner

"Can... can I ask you guys something?"

"A little late for that, don't you think?" Will’s words were without bite, and he sipped his drink carefully.

"Fuck off," he said begrudgingly, endearingly. "Your guy's... came in, too?" That part was false confidance, a thin veil over wild fear.

"Yep," Frankie's tone was matter-of-fact, satisfied. Glances and nods, they all... processed it. Benny swallowed the last of his drink and Frankie's knuckles ran over his thighs. Santi inhaled deeply before letting the breathe out slowly, trying to ignore the slight tremble of his hands.

It was messy, the soulmate talk. They'd been having it all their lives - the intricacies that even the world's most powerful governments still couldn't untangle. And Frankie and Santi each had two.

Will dragged his thumb through the condensation on his glass, looking involuntarily at his brother.

"I need to tell you guys something." Their heads shot up to look at him, and Benny almost laughed.

"There's someone else."

They were looking at him in blank shock, an appropriate reaction.

"Fuck."

"You know this... how, exactly?"

"Childhood friend. She got two, in college. Matches Will and me, the same as you guys. " Ben sounded almost giddy, his words making the chaos real.

"Mom hated it - was sure one of us was going to die or get our heart broken. But then we saw your guy's and -"

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you say anything before now?" Frankie was mad. It was too much - it felt unreal.

"She said she didn't want to choose either brother, said it didn't feel right."

"Now we know why, I guess." Benny's hand ran across Frankie's shoulder, his attempt to make light of it all had been put aside.

"She?"

"Yeah."

Pope dragged his hand along his jaw, drink forgotten. There was a familiar glint in his eye, and Will knew he felt it too - like it or not, it felt right. Frankie would take longer to convince - he looked like he wanted to crack his head open and cook whatever was inside.

"You guys should meet her."

Catfish made a strangled noise, and Will couldn't help but kiss his temple.

"Whenever you're ready."

-

It took weeks.

Frankie went silent for ten days, ignoring calls and texts, before Will came home and found him on his couch.

They talked for awhile and it was nice, different than therapy. Not about being Delta, not about Columbia or cocaine, they talked about... you. About how you'd been Will's first love, since he was a pretend knight in shining armor, and you'd asked to be the dragon. About how he'd seen that same look in Benny's eyes when you'd been the only one to turn up at one of his high school shows. Their long talks, trying to figure out how to move on from their soulmate, how impossible it felt until they all met on the force. About how scary it was, for all these friendships to become something so... unknown.

And over chili, Frankie sighed, and agreed to meet you. Because of Will, he was already in love with you more than he'd admit even to himself.

-

They invited you over to Santi's for dinner, not wanting to cause a scene at a restaurant.

Benny hugged you the moment you walked in, crushing your nerves and your ribcage at the same time. Your hand cradled his cheek, a reassuring touch.

Then Will gently pulled you into his arms, harboring you against his chest. He asked questions into your hair, and you grabbed fistfulls of his shirt before you nodded.

The one they introduced as Frankie - Catfish - didn't touch you but he might as well have. He stepping into your space, looking right into your eyes, standing over you like he was as tall as Ben. His words were kind, and careful. His tattoos matched yours.

The other - Santi, Pope - dropped the package of farmer's market veggies he'd been holding onto the ground. Then he shook your hand, while the others shot him looks like he'd grown an extra head. You wondered if Will had texted you the wrong names - he didn't seem excited to meet you like they'd said. If anything, he seemed caught off-guard, like there was a confidance you had taken away. But his tattoos matched yours.

Your nerves returned.

Food helped, polite conversations melting into teasing stories and giddy laughter. They ate a lot, and you smiled when they shared bites with each other. Under the table Benny’s hand found yours, and squeezed before he got distracted. Above, Will touched your cheek and for the first time, you let yourself lean into his warmth.

And when you began to clean the dishes, something shifted. Frankie's hands ran over yours in the soapy water, and he seemed startled, but he shifter closer to you, both of you flushing as you sought the touch again.

Moments later you stumbled upon Santi looking at the stars when you took out the trash. It was flattering, that such a man would be nervous because of you. Standing on your toes, you kissed his cheek, and he pulled you into his arms, grab so tight you though you understood his fears. His palm held your head against his neck,, and you wrapped your arms around his broad ribcage. Will found you like that, and leaned against the doorframe, watching.

You felt like you were free falling, and you could tell they felt it too. It was a lot to take in, but no one seemed like they wanted the night to end. Trading stories and sharing glances, it dragged on and on, until Francisco caught you yawning, and coaxed the evening to a close.

By the time he succeeded, you knew, and so did they. Marks be damned - this was it.

-

Your first individual date was with Benny. It wasn't as easy as either of you expected - his own anxiety about the situation finally catching up to his excitement. He was a good friend, always had been, always would be, and you knew him like the back of your hand. Dating had been off-limits for so long.... it was going to take time to rewrite.

"I just... I love you. I love you all so much." Your Ben was always honest. It would've felt like a crazy thing to say, on a first date, but everything about this wasn't traditional.

"I love you too, Ben, you know I do." Your voice was quiet, trying to convey how strange this was for you, too, and he let out a long, slow breath. After awhile, air full of thoughtful silence, his shoulders relaxed and he smiled, soft and happy.

His rough hands found yours again, and this time, he didn't let go until he had to.

-

When you met Frankie for lunch, you felt suddenly shy. His dark eyes felt like they could see right into your heart, and you fidgeted, hoping he liked whatever he saw.

He talked like he knew you, and you felt like he did, a strange comfort in the chaos of your worlds. When your wrist bumped your glass he caught both, hand lingering on your skin as he ducked his head and pulled his eyes away.

Words came easier, then, and more and more, until suddenly you felt like maybe fate know what it was doing.

Frankie was thoughtful - so thoughtful and careful and kind, you watched him in awe, tempted to hug him without abandon. And he talked with passion, about your boys, how they saved him time and time again, and how he took care of them, when you couldn't.

You realized, as you kissed his cheek goodbye, that he was the one who helped change Benny's tire, so he could make it to your birthday party a few years ago. Footsteps already on the way down the street, your heart tugged, begging you to take one last look at his fluffy curls and steady eyes. When you turned back, he was watching you, hands in his pockets, and you wondered as you waved if it was too soon to say you were head over heels for Francisco Morales.

-

Dinner with Santi felt the most like a first date, of all of them. He was quick to flirt, but his eyes held yours, and his smile was perfectly crooked, and you knew he meant every word.

He told you information, rather than stories, rambling excitedly, one train of thought stringing into the next. When he realized his tangents, he flushed, wringing his napkin as he apologized.

"Don't," you shushed him, "Tell me more, please."

He was silent for a moment, pausing to drink you in, heart racing in spite of himself. And then he resumed, and you thought maybe you got it.

For years, he'd had loves all around him, but... you were his first opportunity to be romantic in a dramatic way, as intense as his heart had ached for, silently. It was lovely, watching him settle into his skin, and when he kissed your temple that night, it was a thank you, and a promise.

Despite all logic, the free falling and stumbling steps towards whatever came next, he made you feel safe.

-

It was a familiar grassy hill, you met Will on, one you'd climb to when you were teens who needed to talk.

He sat close - closer than he ever had - but enough away that you could move, if you wanted to. It was strange, talking about the others with him, seeing the relief in his eyes as your honesty poured out. Moments later, he matched it, and you saw that golden glow as he smiled.

"I'm glad, really I am."

You waited.

"But..." gently, you bumped into him and he looked at you, blue eyes questioning. "I know you, Will."

His smile grew.

"Could I... I want to kiss you." It wasn't really a question - and he held himself back, watching for your response. There was no need to add I want to kiss you because I've been waiting to, aching to. Since we were kids - let me kiss you first. Please. Both lf you knew what he meant.

You weren't sure who leaned in first, but his hands, grabbed at your cheeks, fingertips in your hair, and his lips were warm and soft.

It, all of it, felt like home.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk

[mellowswriting]

Cuddling

**This was the most requested headcanon and I had so much fun writing it! Enjoy!!

Mando: 

There were many things Mando didn’t realize he was missing out on until he met you. Basic things, like a healthy eating and sleeping schedule or having someone to just exist with in his ship. But the first time you curled up against him with your head tucked into his neck and one arm tossed over his chest… well, he was damn glad it was pitch black in the bunk so you couldn’t see how red his face had become.

How had he missed out on this for so long? The skin on skin, the feeling of your heartbeat and slow, peaceful breathing… having you in his arms is absolute heaven.

Once he realizes just how much he loves cuddling you, Mando will pull you against him literally whenever he wants. He loves pulling you into his lap when he’s piloting, especially when you straddle his thighs and just snuggle right into him, chest to chest. The amount of times he’s slung his arm over your shoulder and tucked you into his side while you sat in some cantina makes you automatically slide closer to him without a second thought.

He doesn’t really have a favorite way to cuddle you - anytime he has his hands on you is a good time - but he does particularly enjoy the post-sex, hazy cuddling. Your hands wander in the darkness, your fingers trail down his sternum and over his belly, along his ribs. It almost tickles, but your touch feels so damn good. The warmth of his skin against yours, still sweat slick and sensitive, soothes a need deep inside him to have you close and safe.

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales:

Frankie is a very hands on lover. If it isn’t the all-encompassing press of his entire body against yours, he’s at the very least got one hand on you somewhere. He’ll pull your legs into his lap while the two of you are sitting on the couch together, curl one hand over your inner thigh while he’s driving and singing along to the radio in his truck, tuck his hand into your back pocket while you’re out in public together.  

But if he had his way, Frankie would just crush you into his bed every second of every day. He’s the type to wrap his arms around you and tuck one leg between your thighs and just… hold you close. It’s one of the few times where his mind can go peacefully blank, all his worries and stress falls away and the only thing that he can focus on is the warmth of your skin.

Frankie loves either almost or completely naked cuddling. As much skin on skin as he can manage, and this man is in heaven.

He prefers to spoon you, to wrap you up in his arms and bury his face in your hair. He can feel your breathing, every shift of your body in your sleep, and on the nights where he can’t sleep, it’s easy to ground himself with the line of your entire body against his.

Another thing about Frankie? He’s possessive. Not in a demeaning way, but it’s just that… you’re his, just like he’s yours. The boys rib him about it hard, too, but it doesn’t deter him. Frankie will still pull you into his lap and latch those greedy hands onto your thighs or ass with a shrug. No shame with this one.

Javier Peña:

Ugh. This man.

For someone who claims not to love it, he’s an amazing cuddler. He presses kisses all over your shoulder, face, and neck, rubs his hands over your arms and thighs in soothing circles, and just… holds you. Tight and firm against his chest, which rumbles so nicely as he mumbles about anything that pops into his head as he tries to fall asleep.

He grumbled the first few times but once you get situated against him, good luck getting away. The few times you’ve tried to get up to pee or get water always results in him pulling you closer the second you start to wiggle away and almost whining when you finally break free. If you give him a few kisses and promise to come back to him immediately, he’ll let you go. But if you’re gone longer than a couple minutes, he’s coming to find you and drag you back into his bed so he can snuggle you and fall back asleep.

Javier would never admit it aloud let alone ask for it, but he wants you to lay on him. Like, full on, chest to chest, your face tucked into his shoulder and your legs tangled with his. The full-body press of your weight against him is beyond calming and every time you do crawl on top of him, he could just tear you apart. It’s such an intense feeling, it explodes in his chest and all he can do is wrap his arms around you and dig his fingertips into your soft flesh.  

Ezra:

After a long and exhausting day of harvesting, Ezra loves curling up with you. His body is aching, his mind exhausted, and you provide a solace that can’t be found anywhere else. He loves to lay his head on those soft thighs of yours and doze while you read or tinker with whatever metal you’re trying to fix. 

It’s impossible for him not to hold you or be held by you in some way. If you sit down next to him, he’s pulling you as close as possible, as if he’s trying to meld the two of you together, consume you, make you his entirely. 

These are the times that Ezra really feels like he doesn’t deserve you. You’re so...soft. So giving. So gentle. Ezra doesn’t see himself as a good man. The exact opposite, actually. How could he ever deserve so much good? He only whispers those fears to you in the dead of night, when all has settled and the only sounds are the steady whirring of pod’s the air filters and you’re practically on top of each other on the cot only meant for one. You just hold him as he speaks, running your fingers through his curls and resisting the urge to interrupt him. He deserves to get it all out. 

But once he’s done. You whisper your praises right back to him, pausing every few words to kiss him anywhere you can reach; his cheeks, his lips, his neck, his chest. You tell him how much you love him, how admirable his hard work is, how funny he is, how his voice drips like honey with that drawl that gives you shivers. He’ll hold you even tighter, something you didn’t think possible.

Marcus Pike:

PERFECT BOYFRIEND ALERT

However you’re willing to cuddle him, Marcus is there and ready to goooo!!! He lives for those early morning, groggy moments where he’s just woken up and the very first thing he sees is you, your face slack and peaceful with sleep, a bit of drool collecting at the corner of your mouth. If he’s sure you’ve gotten a good amount of rest, Marcus happily kisses you awake and keeps you in bed for as long as possible. It feels so natural, it has from the very beginning.

Marcus is the type who knows what he wants, but his previous heartbreaks have him hesitant in that sureness. The first time he woke up with you on his chest like that had been entirely unintentional. Neither of you had meant to fall asleep, obvious by the fact that he was still in his slacks and you in your jeans, and Marcus didn’t want to intrude or be presumptuous, so he tried to slip away. You woke, of course, and he tried to apologize, but you just smiled at him and said, “You’re so warm. Get back over here.” Marcus was in awe as you began unbuttoning his dress shirt, muttering about wanting him to be comfortable. Once he was down to his boxers and you were down to your tank top and underwear, you just snuggled right back up to him. You rubbed your cheek on his bare chest as you settled in and it took Marcus’s breath away. That was when he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life like this with you.

And he makes good on that every single day.

His favorite place to cuddle is in his bed. The plush mattress and soft blankets make it even more comfortable to lay with you for hours like he wants to. Marcus loves spooning because he can touch you all over; he can hold your hand, rub your thighs, grab onto your ass. Plus it’s the perfect way to wake up when you playfully grind against his morning wood.

But the ultimate position? Your legs over his shoulders, his head leaned back towards your belly. It’s his favorite way to prop his head up to see the television as you lean against the headboard and read a book, the two of you simply enjoying each other's presence and warmth.

Max Phillips:

Fuck, you’re just so fucking warm and soft and Max cannot get enough. His body temperature isn’t frigid, just a few ticks below normal thanks to his undead status, but it’s enough to be able to notice a difference. You warm him up better than any steaming cup of coffee or heavy blanket ever could.

That’s why he straight up lays on top of you. Max ignores your grunts and annoyed sounds as he clambers on top of you and buries his face in your neck. He can hear your pulse, smell the sweet, delicious smell of your blood, and feel your warmth like this. You’ve practically got a purring vampire on your hands like this.

Max loves to feed off of you while he snuggles and I refuse to believe otherwise. He gives you the puppy dog eyes even though he really doesn’t need to beg. The sight of you sweeping your hair off to one shoulder is enough to have him squishing you into the mattress and burying his teeth in your neck.

He’s even more handsy when he’s practically drunk on your blood. Max is 100% gonna try to fuck you while he feeds off of you.

Pero Tovar:

Pero didn’t really know the simple pleasure of curling up with someone he loved. He knew fucking, usually a utilitarian visit to a brothel to ease some of the tension that plagued him. That wasn’t the kind of situation he stuck around to cuddle afterwards. You show him, though.

The first time you turned over to lay your head on his chest, Pero didn’t know what the fuck to do with himself. He kept his hands raised with his elbows propped up on the mattress and stared down at you with his eyebrows furrowed. Eventually he lets his arm settle over your shoulders but that’s as far as he goes, not yet realizing that he can find comfort here.

Slowly but surely, Pero begins to find solace in your embrace and once he learns that it makes you feel safe and loved, he can’t get enough. He craves it, the feeling of your body pressed against his under the blankets of your shared bed, the way you rub his calves with your feet, the contrast of your soft, supple skin against his scarred body.

He’s a nuzzler, especially when he first wakes up. He loves to rub his face against your neck and shoulder, especially since his facial hair makes you giggle and squirm against him. It’s a delightful, bright sound and the perfect way to start his day. It can be difficult to convince either of you to get out of bed to tend to your daily chores. Yes, the firewood needs to be cut and there are clothes that need mending, but a few more minutes spent in each other’s arms won’t hurt, right?

Maxwell Lord: 

Not gonna lie, the first few times you were in Maxwell’s bed was not for soft and sweet purposes and there wasn’t any cuddling happening afterwards, either. No, it was always hot and heavy sex followed by snatching up clothes and leaving with a wink and the promise of ‘see you next time’. It was therapeutic, the mutual stress relief of meaningless sex.

Until it suddenly wasn’t so meaningless.

That first time Maxwell woke up in your bed had been entirely accidental. Both of you were absolutely exhausted before he fucked you into your mattress, so afterwards you were dead to the world. He was only going to close his eyes for a few minutes, but then he woke up with his chest pressed against your back and your hair in his face and why the fuck wasn’t he panicking. He feels like he should be panicking. But instead, the soft rise and fall of your chest was mesmerizing. Maxwell blamed the fact that your breasts were still bared for his greedy eyes and shook it off.

The second time, though? Maxwell found himself needing you there. The last time the two of you had sex, you had left his penthouse with a lingering kiss and a satisfied smile that had pride burning a hole through his chest, but he couldn’t fucking sleep. So when you sighed and swung your legs over the side of his bed, Maxwell’s arms wrapped around your waist and dragged you back to the middle of his huge bed.

“It isn’t safe for you to be walking around at night, you can wait until morning.” But you could see through his convenient excuse right to the vulnerability in those pretty brown eyes. So you laid right back down and couldn’t help but smile when Maxwell’s arm hesitantly fell over your waist. The way you melted into his embrace made Maxwell pull you flush against him and bury his face in your hair.

That morning you woke up to Maxwell getting dressed and what a sight that was. The moment he realized, he left the room and returned a moment later with a coffee from your favorite cafe. He was almost bashful when he shrugged and said he had it delivered so you wouldn’t have to rush out. You weren’t bashful about dragging him back into the bed, though. Ever since then, it was an unspoken and expected comfort.

Maxwell likes spooning. He feels like he’s keeping you safe with his body curled around yours. And if you’re entirely naked against him, he’s even happier. All of that bare skin for his greedy hands…

He also loves laying his head on your chest. You always play with his hair (you’re the only person he lets do that, too) and it makes shivers dance along his skin. Again, bonus if you’re naked but there’s no guarantee that he won’t tease your nipples until they’re pebbled and sensitive.

[lightsinthedistancee]

Congrats!!! Angst 11 with Frankie? I can totally picture one of the boys asking him that and calling him out when he’s in denial of his feelings for f!reader

Thanks! Hope you enjoy!

“Is she really just a friend?” - Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x Reader

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Secrecy

Words: 1.6k

Excerpt: “You’re the one who always knows how to keep him up when he begins to spiral, begins to drink a little too much, begins to think of certain substances he’d once abused in order to forget.

“You’re the one who always knows what to say when he feels his exterior cracking, feels events of the past begin to seep through in anger, grief, or pure instability.

“In uncomplicated terms, perhaps you’re simply the only one who always seems to know him.”

Warnings: Very Mild Smut, Language

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.

Present

You’re simply staring.

Out the window of the living room, into unremarkable space. Onto the street where car after car passes by, each one seemingly blending into the last. Upon overcast skies that drain the colors outside of their saturation.

“You gonna say something or not?” says Frankie, breaking the silence. An air of hostility lies between the two of you. He sits on the couch, back hunched, forehead propped against his fist.

The main event of the past few hours lays heavy in the background, fogging both your minds—storm clouds that threaten to bring carnage upon everything.

It’d been a statement by Frankie in the company of the guys—just the mere beginnings of one, one with enough information behind it for you to intervene, to cut him off and shut it down before anything was heard.

The statement…it was one that would’ve told a lot. One that would’ve told of the many times Frankie’s hands had woven into your hair before his lips found yours, one that would’ve revealed numerous long nights together.

Not officially a secret, but never a relationship mentioned nor told.

“Why don’t you want to tell them? Why don’t you want to tell anyone?” His voice is profound in the quiet, loaded with hurt and confusion and a desperate need to know. “What’s the harm in it?”

And still without a single word, without a single glance towards him, you walk from the room.

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Past

“F-Frankie….”

His name is a stutter from your lips as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, practically panting into his skin as his hips work against yours.

The wall you’re pressed up against painfully digs into your spine, yet the ache is an afterthought, buried in the shadow of the pure pleasure coursing through your veins.

The sounds of the guys in the kitchen below faintly travels through the floor. It makes a thrill as well as a menacing nervousness spike hot in your mind.

It was a simple weekend get-together among friends that had brought you here, you and Frankie being sent up the stairs of the house to get something, somehow ending up in this situation.

You groan at a particular movement, knotting your hands tighter into his locks, pulling hard enough to make him groan. He’s muttering filth in your ear, your legs gripping his waist tighter and tighter.

“Did you find it?” Benny’s voice echoes up the stairs all of a sudden, piercing the haze you and Frankie had been lost in together. Your mind is in an incoherent state, entirely forgetting what you’d been sent up here to find. “What’s taking so long?”

You stare at Frankie, whose eyes are wide open now, his movements frozen. The corners of your lips beg to turn upwards, and you nearly giggle at the absurdity of it all, and you slowly raise your index finger to your lips, signaling for him to stay quiet.

“Still looking!” you call out. “Should find it soon.”

An affirmative response sounds back, and despite everything going on, Frankie feels all his emotions diminishing to one thing, one sensation that sets every inch of him alight.

The feeling of you clenching around him, your index finger to your lips, a hint of a smirk on those beautiful lips of yours—the secrecy of it all…it’s exciting.

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Present

“Sweetheart….” His voice is a whisper as he approaches you from behind.

You’re in the kitchen now, hands shaking as you pour yourself a glass of water. Exhaustion is seemingly the main product of the tension that had hung between the two of you.

His hand rests gently on the side of your waist, the rest of his body refraining from even grazing yours. An acute worry runs through his head in circles. “I know you’re not leading me on with whatever this whole thing between us is—“

“I’m not,” you whisper, saying your first words in a while.

“—so talk to me. Why don’t you want to tell?”

The ever-pervasive question. Again.

You sigh, turning around to face him. Your hips gently settle on the edge of the counter, your eyes tiredly shutting. “I…I just…I really like you, Frankie.”

He raises an eyebrow, the confusion written across his face nearly comical. “I-I should hope so? I mean, you’re not really explaining anything, cariño.”

You laugh weakly, the sound pathetically dying out near the end, lacking the conviction to even resolutely finish. “What I mean is….” You draw in a deep breath, your eyes finally flicking to his. “…I don’t want what I have with you to fail, and I’m terrified of that happening, and…isn’t that only possible when something is officially real?”

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Past

“C’mon, ‘Fish. Is she really just a friend?”

Frankie laughs, shaking his head in a perfect lie of denial. “You’re an idiot. Of course she’s just a friend.”

The small bar the four of them are in—him, Santi, Will, and Benny—possesses a unique calmness and comfort to it, a place they’d been going to for ages.

“Friends who fuck, then?” Santi continues his barrage of questions, the beginnings of an infuriating smirk on his face.

Friends who fuck really fucking well. “No,” Frankie insists, even as the other clumsily-formed thought sounds in his mind.

The other three guys practically shake their heads, returning to their previous conversation. The questioning is nearly a ritual at this point, said repeatedly, as if they’re determined to wrench what they want to be said out of him.

Frankie can vividly recall the things all of them had been saying over and over for months, in one way or another.

She knows you entirely too well.

What is it with the two of you?

You cannot possibly fucking tell me there is nothing going on.

And perhaps they’re right.

Frankie had risked his life with these guys, almost died with them, made last confessions and regrets in the near certain face of death. He’s inexorably bound to them till the day he dies. But despite that, when it comes to Frankie, even in competition with his closest friends, you always seem to be just one step ahead when it comes to knowing him.

You’re the one who always brings up the subject of leaving when places grow too crowded for his liking, striking a subtle discomfort across his face that no one else notices.

You’re the one who always knows how to keep him up when he begins to spiral, begins to drink a little too much, begins to think of certain substances he’d once abused in order to forget.

You’re the one who always knows what to say when he feels his exterior cracking, feels events of the past begin to seep through in anger, grief, or pure instability.

In uncomplicated terms, perhaps you’re simply the only one who always seems to know him.

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Present

Your words shock him.

Isn’t that only possible when something is officially real?

He doesn’t know what you’ve been through to develop this level of paranoia, this level of reservation, but god, does he want to know. He wants you to let him in all the way, wants to be able to kiss you whenever he likes, wants to say three words that’ll  officially cement things as serious.

But, even then…looming over all of that is a more menacing question that demands to be answered, one that makes him want to shrink into nothing.

“You don’t think this is real?” he whispers, his voice cracking at the implication—that what the two of you feel even in secrecy is not enough to make it so.

“What?” Your eyes snap up to his with the urgency of distress. “No, of course I think it’s real.” The statement is a near desperate exclamation as you watch him, looking for any sign that he believes you, that you haven’t destroyed even more of this with a single sentence.

His features relax, back to a quiet concern.

A long, drawn-out stretch of silence passes, filled with relief and more questions to be asked.

“Then why does telling make it more real?” he finally asks.

You falter, searching for an explanation beyond a simple feeling of fear. “I…I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe it’s just conceptual, maybe something I’ve just made up in my head and refused to go back on, but…but it just scares me, the thought of this being real and then failing. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but—“

“—I think it makes sense,” he interjects. More tentatively this time, he leans into you, wrapping his arms around your waist, rubbing soothing circles over the small of your back. “And why are you terrified this’ll fail? Do you think it will?”

“I…I don’t know,” you respond softly, brow crunched in apprehension. “Things just happen…I suppose.”

He hums in contemplation, fingers pulling your chin up to look at him. “Well, that’s not a very good reason,” he muses, a signature humor to him that you’re all too familiar with. When you laugh quietly, it’s a real laugh, one that delights his ears. “Things just don’t happen, too, y’know.”

You press your face into his shoulder, the slightest act of affection, an unsaid agreement. It feels different now that he’s in it with you, now that he knows and can challenge every absurd thought you’ve entertained.

“We can start just by telling the guys,” he proposes quietly. “If you want to…. It’s just them.”

His hand squeezes yours assuredly, a promise that everything is going to be fine. Your response is soft, a little hesitant-sounding at first, but ultimately decided. “Alright.”

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

A/N: I’ll admit I’m not super sure about this one since this is a little different from what I usually write but it was so much fun to write and such a fun challenge to create. And @hnt-escape, so I…umm….obviously changed the “Frankie in denial of feelings” part of the ask, so I hope you didn’t mind that?

Taglist: @dark-academics-and-florals @theultimateslashgirl @princessxkenobi @djjarins @jitterbugs927 @whovianayesha

If you’d like to be added to my taglist, let me know or do the form on my masterlist. If you’d like to be removed, don’t be afraid to ask!

100 Follower Celebration Masterlist

Thanks for reading!

[honey-dewey]

The Domestic Dream

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1,802

Warnings: Female reader, reader is pregnant with twins, mostly fluff, mild/moderate descriptions of childbirth, I think that’s it.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog.

You sighed, bending down as best you could before groaning and straightening. You could hear your husband in the other room, putting together the crib. Barely two weeks away from your due date, and you and Frankie had yet to fully put together your nursery. 

Rubbing a hand over your swollen belly, you breathed deep, squatting down and finally sitting on the floor in front of the laundry basket. It was overfilled due to your negligence and your pregnancy, but you could ignore it no longer. Picking up a shirt on the top of the pile, you began the slow process of folding the laundry. 

“Babe?” 

You looked up, smiling. Frankie had emerged from the nursery, sweaty and tired. He sat on the floor beside you, leaning slightly against your shoulder. “You’re so warm,” he said, face mushed against your skin. You laughed, kissing his curls. 

“I’m pregnant,” you reminded him. “How’s the cursed room?” 

Frankie chuckled, sitting upright and grabbing a pair of his jeans to fold. “Fine,” he said. “The Miller boys are coming around in a few hours to help me put everything else together. Santi’s gonna be here for dinner, and I think he’s staying the night.” 

You shrugged. “I’m always happy to see the boys,” you reminded, wrinkling your nose at one of your permanently stained maternity shirts. “This is bull.” 

“Agreed,” Frankie said, taking the shirt from you and folding it anyway. “Is now the appropriate time to ask about more kids?” 

Groaning, you flailed at the far away basket Frankie had pulled towards him. He kicked it back to you, and you gave him a pointed look before grabbing a pair of shorts. “No.” 

Frankie laughed. “Worth a shot,” he said with a grin. “Need any more help? I’ve still got to finish that crib.” 

“You said you were done already,” you reminded him, tossing a pair of socks into the sock pile. 

“With one of them,” Frankie said, scooting close so he was behind you, leaning against your back with his head resting on your shoulder. “We have two babies coming, remember?” 

You sighed, feeling Frankie snake his hands around your belly, his thumbs rubbing the sore spots. “Don’t remind me.” 

Frankie chuckled, going still when one of the babies kicked his hand. “Feisty,” he said. “Just like her mama.” 

“That might not be Amara,” you said, putting your hands over Frankie’s. “Marco is in there too, you know.” 

“But consider,” Frankie murmured, kissing the soft skin behind your ear. “It probably is Amara. The doc said she had spirit.” 

You leaned back into Frankie, both of you supporting each other. Softly kissing his cheek, you smiled, enjoying the stretch in your aching back. Frankie hummed, tracing nonsense shapes over your belly. 

“What did I ever do to deserve this?” He asked, breaking the silence. “A beautiful wife, two babies on the way, the house of my dreams. I must’ve been a saint in my last life.” 

Smiling, you kissing Frankie again, targeting the hairless patch in his facial hair. “You’ll never believe me, will you?” You said. “You’re a good man, Frankie. You’ve earned this.” 

Frankie pressed a kiss to the back of your neck. “I know,” he promised. “I know.” 

You two remained on the floor for a while, the laundry completely abandoned. Sunshine crept across the hardwood, and you made a quiet remark about how cute a dog would look curled up in the sun. Frankie hummed, nodding, but didn’t say a word. Time continued to pass, the sun coming in from the window moving slowly as an hour elapsed, and you only managed to haul yourself upright when the doorbell rang. 

“I can get it, Frankie said, still sprawled out on the floor. 

“I’m already up,” you replied, putting a hand on your back and groaning. “Plus, I can’t sit for too long. I’ll never get back up.” 

Frankie laughed as you shuffled through the house and opened the front door. 

“Boys!” You said cheerfully, hugging Benny and Will in turn. “Frankie’s on the floor in the living room, go nudge him until he gets up.” 

Benny smiled, running through the house to go bother Frankie. Will stayed with you, watching as you winced. “Kicking?” 

“Moving,” you said, smoothing a hand over your stomach. “They’ve been doing that a lot lately. Feels like they might be a bit premature, although that one really hurt.” 

Will shrugged, following you into the living room, where Benny was laying on top of Frankie like the world’s weirdest weighted blanket. “I’ll go start on that crib.” 

You smiled, chuckling a bit. “Thank you,” you said, watching Will head into the nursery. Meanwhile, you stood above your husband and his best friend, crossing your arms. “Boys.” 

Benny looked up at you, grinning. “Yes?” 

“Don’t you have a crib to be putting together?” 

Frankie nodded, trying to shove Benny off. “We do,” he said, smiling despite his trapped situation. “Babe, why are we having babies when we could just take care of Benny?” 

Benny gasped, and you laughed. “I agree,” you said. “I’m sure it can’t be that much different.” 

“You people are mean!” Benny insisted, sitting up and firmly planting his knees into Frankie’s stomach. “I’m leaving.” 

Frankie followed him into the nursery, and you took a minute before bending down to grab the laundry basket. Putting it on your hip, you headed into the nursery as well. It took some shuffling, but you eventually sat in the rocking chair, out of breath and exhausted, but happy to be in the same room as everyone else. Setting the basket at your feet, it took you minimal effort to fold and sort everything while the boys did what most people did while attempting to put furniture together. They argued. 

“You have the wrong piece!” Benny insisted, holding out a different bag of screws. “This goes in that hole.” 

“No it doesn’t!” Will said, grabbing the drill. “I know what I’m doing.” 

“Do you though?” Frankie asked, taking the drill back and pulling a bag from his pocket. “I’ve got the right screws.” 

“Knock knock!” Santiago poked his head into the room, smiling. “I heard the joyous sounds of arguing, and I’m here to take a side!” 

You smiled, standing as best you could. “Santi,” you said, gesturing him close for a hug. 

“Hey Sparky,” he said, hugging you. “Dios mío, you’re massive!” 

“Aww thanks,” you said with an exaggerated pout. “Can you start on the changing table please? Grab Will to help you. We only need two people on the crib.” 

Santiago nodded, pulling Will away from the crib debacle and towards the guest bedroom, where the unassembled changing table pieces sat. You sat back down, half supervising and half finishing the last of the laundry. Finally, when it was done, you sighed, standing and bending down to pick up the basket. As you straightened, you felt your entire middle shift, as if someone had just twisted you around. A warm and wet something slid down your legs, and you prayed you were imagining it. 

“Hey babe?” You said, turning slowly to put the laundry basket down on the rocking chair. “Go start the truck.” 

“Hm?” Frankie looked up, confused. “Why?” 

You took a breath and looked down at the puddle on the carpet. “My water just broke.” 

The silence that filled the house was immediate. Even in the guest room, Will and Santiago heard you and stopped what they were doing. Frankie was frozen to the spot, his eyes wide with shock.

Benny was the one to break the silence, standing and taking a breath. “Well fuck.” 

“Well fuck,” you repeated quietly. “Well fuck indeed.”

The silence settled back over the house for a fraction of a second before it exploded into chaos. Frankie ran to start the car, pushing past Will, who had come into the nursery to put an arm around you and ease you back into sitting. You took a breath, breathing against the pain that had erupted in your body. Benny grabbed a few towels and your hospital bag, taking them out to the car while Santiago frantically went from room to room, talking quickly to himself in Spanish. 

“Ready!” Frankie called from the house’s entryway, and Will helped you up, supporting you as you walked to the truck. He passed you to Frankie, and your husband wasted no time scooping you off your feet and carrying you to the truck. 

Benny gave you a thumbs up as Frankie drove away, his grip on the wheel turning his knuckles white. You gritted your teeth as another contraction hit, and set your hand on Frankie’s hand. “Relax,” you said softly. “Relax. It’ll be fine.” 

Frankie shook his head, eyes wide. “What if it isn’t?” He asked. 

You sighed. “Francisco,” you said firmly. “Everything will be alright.” 

Everything was not alright. The hospital was too far away, and Frankie ended up having to pull over in the middle of nowhere because the babies weren’t going to wait another second. He frantically called the house while you screamed from the truck, laying on a towel that had been spread across the backseat. 

“The boys are coming, and they called an ambulance,” Frankie promised, getting back into the truck and taking your hands. “Just hold on, please.” 

“I can’t,” you panted, eyes screwing shut as another contraction tore you in half. “Frankie, I have to push.” 

Frankie went white as a ghost, but he nodded, helping you scoot back. He rolled up a second towel and gave you a kiss before you positioned the towel between your teeth, letting your head fall back. 

“You know what to do?” Frankie asked, moving back down and putting his hands on your knees, suddenly glad you had decided to wear a loose dress instead of pants.

You nodded, waiting until the right moment to push, every part of you lighting on fire. It was pain beyond description, and everything faded away, leaving nothing but you and the unbearable agony behind. 

“I can see the head!” Frankie’s voice burst through your cloud, and you nodded, pushing again. And again, and again, and again until it was over. Marco and Amara were carefully swaddled up after Frankie cut their umbilical cords, and you were each holding a baby when the boys and the ambulance showed up at the same time. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Frankie murmured as the paramedics checked your babies over. “Next time, let’s aim to have the kid at the hospital, okay?” 

You chuckled weakly, leaning against Frankie’s shoulder. “If there is a next time.” 

“That’s a conversation for later,” Frankie murmured, kissing the top of your head. “Get some rest now, you deserve it.” 

Nodding, you slipped into sleep, surrounded by your husband and children.

[flowesona]

The Hermit - Yandere! Seokjin x reader

The Tarot Series

Warning: Mentions of Suicide, Explicit Content

Seokjin could not find real love for the life of him. Everyone around him was too vain, too obsessed with themselves to care about him. Everyone was hungry for money, or attention, and it made him sick. In his desperation for romance he turned to the previously taboo area for relationships - the internet.

He could find someone that shared his passions. He was even prepared to pretend to like something, just to find that special someone. But luckily he didn’t have to seek out anyone as desperate as he was. She just stumbled into his lap incidentally.

He’d found that Discord was the easiest way to find friendly, chatty people to satiate his hunger for love. That was how he’d found her, on some server about a video game he’d played casually a few times. He’d been pleasantly surprised when she sent him a message individually, asking if he was down to play a few rounds with her.

He’d instantly asked his friend to borrow his console, since this girl didn’t use PC. Jungkook had been persuaded to hand over his console with enough bribery and guilt tripping, and Jin was set to win the game and her heart.

“What do you do for a living then?” (Y/N) was relaxed enough, sat back in her chair with her knees to her chest and eyes on the screen.

“I’m a model. You?” Her teammate answered simply. Sure, he was only beginning his career, but what harm could a little white lie do?

“A model? That’s really cool. Guess I’m going to be the ugly friend, huh?” She laughed, before going silent to focus on the game.

“You didn’t answer me. What do you do?” Jin didn’t seem content to let silence take over.

“I’m stuck in a permanent limbo buddy. I don’t really know what I want to do once I’ve graduated. If I graduate that is.” 

(Y/N) sighed, shifting in her seat slightly.

“I can help you. I’m successful enough to-” She laughed, cutting off his wheedling statement.

“Not happening. You can kill me before I let you become my sugar daddy, buddy.”

“Seokjin.” He responded quietly. “My name’s Seokjin, but you can just call me Jin.”

“Well, Jin if you want to help me out maybe take care of these people behind me?”

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

He’d finally convinced her to skype him, to allow him to see her face after weeks of asking. Jin’s fingers trembled as he typed in the username and sent the request, an odd feeling in his stomach. Anticipation but also a slight fear - what if she didn’t look how he imagined his ideal woman to be? What if he’d wasted all his energy on a catfish?

But the face that appeared on his screen was nothing less than that of a goddess. It was as if his fantasy had been projected before him, as if his Galatea had been breathed into life.

“Hey Jin? You okay?” Her words shook him out of his trance and he nodded eagerly.

“It’s nice to put a face to the voice.” He said light-heartedly, flashing her a charming grin.

“You catch the lea- oh hold on a second.” (Y/N) left briefly, leaving Jin to stare at his own reflection in pity, to see the sad man he had become doting endlessly after a girl who couldn’t talk to him for a full minute without being interrupted.

Luckily, he only had to suffer for a few minutes as she re-entered the view of the webcam with a decently sized package in her hands.

“Sorry about that buddy. I forgot that my shoes were being delivered today.” It was that repeated use of the casual nickname that was starting to make his heart ache. As if she saw him as a friend and nothing more.

“Hey, (Y/N)?” He called her attention away from her parcel, revelling in her ethereal face. “Do you have a boyfriend you’ve never told me about?”

“Nope.” She responded. “And don’t you even think about trying to weasel your way into that role.”

“Why? Would I not be the perfect boyfriend?” His tone was teasing but his heart was thumping in his chest at the conversation.

“You are the perfect friend, Jin. I would happily hook you up with one of my close friends some time if you’re looking for love.”

“Yeah….” Throughout the rest of their conversation there was a notable absence of Jin’s normal self. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t convince himself to be happy when she could never be his.

Yet he couldn’t stop himself. No matter how much she talked about him being a friend he was constantly pulled further into his obsession with her.

He hadn’t even realised that he’d gone too far when he contacted the leader of their discord (a personal friend of hers) to ask her last name. He wasn’t even aware of how fucked up it was when he solicited a professional to dig up as much personal information as possible on her. There wasn’t a sliver of sanity left when he ‘casually’ took a stroll through her neighbourhood, waiting for her to bump into him and invite him back to her place.

Jin had gone crazy for her, and she didn’t even know.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“(Y/N), you could do a lot better.” The older man said sternly, taking off his glasses. She stayed silent, hands on her knees to keep them from bouncing.

“I know, I might have rushed it since I was so busy with-” As the pair spoke, they were unaware of the third party spying on them. Jin had found a peephole in the storage room next to the professor’s office, and was watching the whole interaction with a second hand anxiety for her situation. 

“Well, there’s a few ways that you could make it better. I haven’t logged the grade in the system yet, so you could try again. Or, you can do me a little favour and I’ll log it as a B plus.” Jin watched in horror as (Y/N) cautiously nodded and got down on her knees, her hands unbuckling the older man’s belt.

He felt like he was going to be sick seeing (Y/N) being so intimate with another man, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to look away. He started to imagine himself in her professor’s position, thinking about how it would feel to have her mouth on him, her mischievous eyes looking up at him, and before he knew it he had one hand in his pants and another covering his mouth, hoping the walls weren’t too thin and they wouldn’t be able to hear their voyeuristic partner. But it was over too soon, (Y/N) standing up to wipe at her lips and muttering some kind of thank you as she left, trying to fix her appearance.

Jin started to make himself presentable as well, wiping his hand on his jeans. He checked back on the professor, seeing that he was packing away his laptop, ready to go home for the night.

‘Shit’.

Jin had to do something to stop this monster plaguing his (Y/N)’s life, and fast. 

He slunk out of the janitor’s closet, hoping to fit in as he walked to the parking lot. There, after checking that there weren’t any security cameras watching, he waited. Only half paying attention to his phone, some music blaring through his headphones so that he was camouflaged into the university setting, no one was even aware that he could possibly have the means to kill tucked away the back of his jeans.

Finally, the professor walked out, a tower of books in his hands. Jin approached him with a charming smile.

“Need any help there, professor? You seem to be struggling with that!” He offered, his hand outstretched to take some of the weight off his shoulders.

“Oh, thank you young man. My car is just over here.” The man smiled gratefully, bending to let Jin take the highest books on the stack before leading him to his vehicle.

“Just put them in the trunk for me. Thanks so much for your help.” Once all the books were loaded, the professor went to enter his car only to be stopped by the feeling of a gun being pressed to his back.

“Unless you want to die, get in the car. Act natural.” Jin muttered in his ear, easing the pressure off his hostage’s back for a second. “Don’t even fucking think about running or you’ll be dead before you know it.”

The professor gave a shaky nod, climbing into the driver’s seat as Jin sat in the passenger’s seat directly behind him.

“I want you to go to your home. Don’t think about acting up to get pulled over, got it?” He hissed. 

“Why are you doing this? I swear, if it’s money you want I’ll give you whatever you need, no questions ask-”

“I thought you were smarter than to question the man holding a gun to your back. Drive.” Jin snarled, his victim jumping into action once he felt a jab through his seat.

Jin didn’t even feel bad. In his mind, it was all just, punishing the man who was coercing his perfect (Y/N) into such gross, indecent acts.

Pulling up at his residence, the professor felt slightly more at ease, thinking he could just give this maniac money or his valuables and just be free. But Jin had other plans.

“Your laptop. Bring it with you into the house. You’ll need it.” He snapped, keeping the gun low enough that it wasn’t obvious to passersby but high enough that it was still a threat. His hostage nodded sullenly, pulling out his briefcase and laptop bag.

“Now, we’re going inside your house. I don’t want any funny business, got it?” Jin said quietly, following the professor as he unlocked his front door and entered, disabling the security alarm.

“What do you want no-”

“Where do you normally sit when you’re thinking?” Jin interrupted.

“My study, why? Please, whatever you want just tell me-”

“Go there. Sit in your chair or whatever.” Jin held the gun up higher. “I’m getting impatient.”

Once he was seated, Jin finally said what he wanted.

“Get out your laptop. You’re going to write a confession about everything you’ve done wrong, the young girls you’ve abused and apologise for it all.” His victim turned as pale as a ghost.

“I-I didn’t do anything, what are you on about-”

“I’ve seen it.” Jin snarled. “Getting those girls to do you 'favours’ for passing grades? You’re sick.”

He pointed the gun right at the professor’s forehead, pressing the cool metal into his skull.

“Get writing already. If you miss anything out then I’ll know.”

It was silent for a while, the professor’s pages slowly creeping on and on, detailing every incident from the start of his career onwards until that very day, all of which had been pushed aside for so long by loyal colleagues. But his crimes were not to be ignored for much longer.

He finished typing, having left his name at the bottom of the account.

“Send it to the university board, your colleagues, your family and the Gazette. Everyone. They deserve to know who you truly are.” Jin commanded lowly. 

“Why are you involved in this? Who told you?” The scholar questioned as he started to type out the names of his colleagues, giving occasional glances up.

“You fucked my girl, (Y/N), this afternoon. I saw the whole thing, and I’m not happy about it.” Jin answered, his hands shaking slightly. “What gave you the right to ask that of her, to make her some common whore for you when she’s so much more? You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Okay, I sent it. Now what?” 

“Thank you. Now, you die.” The bullet was lodged in his victim’s brain before the man even had the chance to react, slumping forward onto his desk. Jin smirked, wiping the gun down before easing it into the corpse’s hand.

“I told you would get what was coming to you.” He taunted the corpse before leaving, praying that he hadn’t left a trace.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“(Y/N), you seem different.” Jin commented, only half concentrating on his gameplay. Most of his attention had been drawn by how stunning (Y/N) looked through her webcam. She was practically glowing, and Jin was honoured to have a front row seat to her euphoria.

“Oh. It’s kind of fucked up that I’m happy about this, but my professor shot himself yesterday apparently. He was a real creep and it’s weirdly liberating to be able to talk about what he did.” She sighed.

“Really?” Jin answered, heart thumping.

“He made me… well, at least he’s gone. He confessed to everything, so at least his victims are at peace knowing his crimes have been exposed.” (Y/N) said uneasily.

“Well, at least he can’t hurt you anymore.” She gave him a warm smile, only for it to fade in a few seconds.

“Jin! Concentrate! If we lose this round I’ll gut you like a fish.”

He laughed, finally satisfied to see how (Y/N) was happy once again with her troubles gone no sooner than they’d arrived.

He’d found his true happiness was making (Y/N)’s life better from the shadows, being her ‘buddy’ to her face but her knight in shining armour behind her back. He didn’t care who it was, he’d cut anyone who was being toxic out of her life. All for his idea of love.

[justimagineitblog]

REQUEST: “You’re Stuck With Me” - William Miller x Reader

Request by Anonymous:

Hey there! I would love to read about an insecure Will, because he thinks he is too boring to be with u or maybe him be worriend about not being enough for u, not having a "good job" or enough money to start a life

or family together, or maybe he is afraid about his past. I imagine his SO trying to convince him or trying to explain that being with him is like living in a dream 😍😍 love your writing, this quarentine makes me a little bit soft

AN: I also drew inspiration for this one from Maren Morris’ song ‘ Good Woman’ - I was listening while writing it and it fit so perfectly! If you can I recommend listening while reading for maximum effect (and maximum tears welp) 

- enjoy my loves! xx

“When you were young, there were some things

You had planned out, a map of your dreams

If some pull through, and if some fall away

I promise to you, this one's gonna stay”

You’ve been dating Will for sometime now. About 4 months. Last night, however, was the first time you met his friends Pope and Catfish and his brother, Benny. This meant the world to you. See you knew where things were headed with Will, you knew you two were meant to be, but you also knew it would take him longer to get there. To make things official. Hell it took him months of coming into your coffee shop and giving you awkward little smiles and eye contact before he finally asked you to hang out.

You stayed at his place last night after the dinner, but it was a public holiday and instead of leaving early for work, you decided to soak up the time you’ve got with Will. He usually comes over at night after working all day, and you always have to leave early in the morning for work. A day like this is rare.

You leave him in the bed, your bare feet pattering through the house until you reach the kitchen. You two never get to properly share a breakfast together, wake up slow together and soak up the time. And there’s no way you’re letting this moment pass without making him a proper breakfast. You sift through his cupboards and fridge. He doesn’t have much. Just the basics. He’s a simple guy. Logical. Rational. Everything has a set way and order. And his cupboards reflect that. But you can make that work. Omelettes it is. Luckily that’s one thing you can make without burning his kitchen down.

I flick on the coffee pot to let it brew while I work at the omelette. Being careful not to wake him up, I try and keep the noise to a minimum. And clean up as I go… Will hates mess. The perk of working at a coffee shop is that I’m used to keeping the kitchen clean.

From down the hall I hear his bed sheets pull back, and not long after I hear footsteps getting closer and closer.

I grab a mug, pouring his cup of fresh coffee to be ready for him.

“Good morning” I smile as I hear enter the kitchen from behind me.

“Good morning” his raspy morning voice greets me in return.

I turn to face him, coffee in hand. He’s shirtless, leaning against the kitchen bench, hands buried in his sweat pant pockets.

“Coffee” I coo, handing it to him.

“Thank you” He nods gratefully as he takes the cup from my hands before placing a quick kiss on my lips.

I smile proudly to myself as I turned my attention back to our breakfast. I know it’s only a little thing. But this small, seemingly meaningless domestic task of giving him his morning coffee fills me with warmth.

“You’re still here”  he states, and I furrow my brows. He sounds… off. Maybe he’s just tired, still half asleep and didn’t expect me to still be here cooking up a storm in his kitchen.

“Yep, in the flesh” I smirk, adding more ingredients to the pan “I completely forgot it was a public holiday today, so I thought we could have breakfast, since I don’t have to run off for once”

“What are you doing?”

“I think it’s called making omelettes…” I chuckle, replying sarcastically to such a weird question.

“No, Y/N, I mean what are you doing here?”

I pause momentarily, baffled by his question, before turning to face him.

“What?” I shake my head in confusion “I just didn’t have to rush so I thought-“

He shakes his head, which is hanging towards the floor.

“Will, what is going on?”

He doesn’t reply, he doesn’t even look up at me.

Wait… have I completely misread this whole situation?

Our relationship?

We’ve been dating for months, I met his friends and brother last night.

I know it takes Will longer with things, but we’ve only been going from strength to strength…

Why is a breakfast a big deal at all?

“Will if you don’t want me here-“

“No, no I do-“ he stutters, but stops momentarily looking frustrated with himself before continuing “I just don’t understand why you want to be here”

“Because we’re dating, Will. This is what you do. You have breakfast-“

“You just… you don’t have to do all this” he sigh’s as if me sticking around making us breakfast is a burden… or I’m just doing it out of guilt. Why would he think that?

“I want to” I stress to him firmly.

He looks up at me, biting down on his lip nervously. His eyes are sad and… scared. He looks small. Vulnerable.

In that moment, I know what’s going on here.

“Will,” I coo softly as I meet him where he stands at the other side of the kitchen “I want to be here”

He looks down into my eyes, searching them. Searching them for a sign of me lying. But I’m not.

“Are you sure?” He breathes. His voice is weak. Shaky. I have never seen him like this before.

“There isn’t anywhere else in the world I would rather be than here, on a Sunday morning, drinking coffee with you”

He looks up at the ceiling, and I can see that his eyes have turn glassy. My heart aches as I watch the strong, protective, steadfast man that I know breaking down in front of me.

“Talk to me” I say so quietly, it’s almost a whisper as he looks back down at me.

I reach up slowly and run a gentle hand through his hair “What’s going on in there?”

“I just… I don’t do this” he begins, eluding to our relationship “But I want this… I want us”

When he pauses, I don’t interrupt him, giving him the space and time to find his words. But hearing him say those words make my insides do flips.

He wants us.

“God I wan’t this” he repeats, shaking his head “But I’m scared of this. Of myself. I don’t want to mess this up Y/N… I don’t know how someone like me could ever be enough for you. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But I’m… me. I don’t know if I can ever be that for you”

“But you already are”

He only shakes his head again in response, avoiding my eyes. It feels like I’m watching the internal battle going on inside of him right in front of me.

“Will look at me,” I take his hand firmly, squeezing it to try and ground him, to bring him out of his head and back into this moment “I’m here. Right now. Right here. We are right here. I’m not going anywhere. I will take this as slow as you like, wherever you are at, I will meet you there”

“I can’t ask you to do that-“ he breathes, his voice faltering.

“You’re not asking me. I want to. Will whatever you have done. Whoever you’ve been. Whatever you see when you look in the mirror… that’s not what I see. What I see is the man who makes me feel so loved. Who makes me feel like we’re the only two people in the room when we’re together. Who holds my hand even when we’re just shopping for groceries. Who beats me at every board game we play. Who treats me like I’m worth more than I ever thought I was. Who makes me feel safe. And there is no way I’m letting that go. Not for anything. So until you call it quits, I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got me through it all. No matter what”

By now he’s staring me straight in the eyes, and he nods as I feel his hands pull me closer to him. Shutting his eyes, his blonde eyelashes fluttering, he rests his forehead against mine.

I’ve never seen him like this before. This raw. This open.

“You’re stuck with me me” I whisper with a soft chuckle in an attempt to make him smile.

“Good” he whispers back and I watch the corner of his mouth curl up slightly in a small smile.

TAGLIST

@marvelismylifffe​

[btshodown]

Could there possibly be a second part to “dancing with a stranger” like y/n meeting namjoon again?? Obviously you don’t have to cuz you’re the author and it probably wouldn’t make sense to add another part but idk I think i just want to hurt myself more since a happy ending wouldn’t make much sense if you make it realistic

Hey there boo! I’m sorry I took so long to answer, I decided to write a small little something for you! I'm so touched that you would want a second part to this emotional mess of a drabble 🥺 I wasn't in a good head space when I dumped this out, so I never thought someone would want more. I really appreciate you sending this 💕💕 But you are right that this wouldn't end happily, considering it was written about my situation, but with some twists. Just as a treat for you reaching out, I hope you enjoy this little drabble of them meeting/talking after this!💙

Warnings: Good ol' angst

Genre: Unrequited love, pining

Word Count: 2k+

Two years.

It had been two years since the last time you spoke with Namjoon and despite the initial thought of never being able to move on, you found a way. It wasn't perfect, and there were days when you still felt the wound as fresh as when it happened. But...it was easier to brush it off and continue with your day. No longer was it such a debilitating feeling that left you unable to move or interact with friends when it visited. It was more accurately compared to when you'd stub your pinky toe or walked into the corner of a table; something that only hurt for a short time.

You never did find someone else though. After nearly a year of failed dates, being ghosted (or you doing the ghosting), and sometimes even catfishes, you decided to just enjoy your own company. It hadn't been easy the first half year, especially when you had found out that Namjoon had officially gotten with the girl that started the distance. It hurt. It hurt so badly the first month of finding it out and it had led to a desperation to forget him. To forget about the void he had left behind.

Soon enough, however, after getting the usual sighs and tired tones of your friends whenever you'd bring up Namjoon, you learned to stay quiet. You know they meant well and you know they didn't mean to dismiss your pain, but understandably so, they were tired of hearing your bouts of emotional rants concerning him. It didn't take you long at all to realize no one wanted to continue to hear you speak about it; they'd listen only to not hurt you. It had been a harsh slap of reality that you needed to move on. You couldn't continue to torture yourself with how things turned out.

So you unfollowed him on all social media platforms and even blocked him in a flare of pettiness; anything to help heal the wound. You stopped asking about him and his girlfriend, despite the burning curiosity to know how they were doing. You even picked up hiking and began to visit bookstores once more after the initial sting of memories when you two would do the same began to fade away. The things you two used to share in common didn't bring unwanted twists to your stomach anymore and the possibility of running into him was no longer a pressing worry.

It began to feel as if he would no longer haunt you. No longer linger in your heart like an unwanted spirit who only seeked to torment you.

So then why did seeing him on one of the trails you frequently hiked send an electric shock through your nerves and reignite that love you foolishly believed was gone?

And why the fuck couldn't you have bumped into him when you weren't slightly sweaty with no make-up on and wearing plain workout clothes. You weren't even wearing your favorite workout pants that made your ass look good for fucks sake! The universe truly loved to make sure you never got a single nice thing.

Your breath suddenly feels like needles as you immediately stop and pray that he didn't hear the crunching of your shoes on the trail. His back is to you as he stands on the edge of one of the small cliffs, a sort of melancholy disposition surrounding him as he gazed out to the open valley. For a small second though, you let your eyes greedily take him in after two years of actively avoiding him and savor how handsome he still is despite the time passed. You do notice how his biceps are thicker and he dyed his hair a new color since you saw him last; the fading pink suited him better than you'd like to admit. And you? Well...you suppose your hair got a little longer.

Before you could sneak away and pretend as if this surprise encounter didn't happen, his deep voice calls out your name in disbelief. The low murmur simultaneously sent shivers down your spine and made your heart clench in agony. It had been too long since you heard him call out to you.

"Is that really you, ___?"

With your body half turned, it was no secret to him that you were fully planning on ignoring him. Your refusal to look him in the eye made it all the more obvious.

"Uh yeah, long time no see." The casual tone sounds disgustingly forced even to your own ears.

There's a pause of hesitancy from him before the sound of his steps getting closer sends your nerves into a panic. Even if you claimed you moved on and he clearly also did, you realized you weren't ready for this. Weren't ready to put yourself through forced casualness when the wound in your heart hadn't fully closed.

"How are you? It's been…," Namjoon pauses and in that small moment of silence, you could feel his eyes bore into you - a lot gentler from the last time you felt it, "It's been a while since we've talked."

You harshly swallow the scoff that threatened to claw out your throat. The bitterness you tried so hard to get rid of resurfaces at his words. The urge to raise your voice and laugh bitterly in his face was a strong one, but you resist and opt to scuff your shoe against the ground. Did he really not understand just how much the silence had killed you? How his easy dismissal of you from his life was a wound you were still nursing to this day.

“I’ve been okay.” Your curt tone makes you flinch a little, so you clear your throat and finally look up at him. You don’t meet his eyes though; you resolutely stare at his covered forehead to avoid the ache of looking into his eyes. “How have uh...you been?”

Despite being a few feet away from him, you can still hear the soft, quick inhale he takes and from your view of his forehead, you can see it crease slightly. You ignore the blossoms of hope that begin to spread at the thought of him doing just as badly as you were. It was wrong of you to feel that way and you knew it, but it was hard to not hope that you weren’t the only one who had been severely affected by this whole situation.

“I’ve been better,” his soft response shocks you enough to finally make eye contact and in response the corners of his lips lift slightly.

“Oh.” You internally blame the warmth travelling to your face as a sign that the day was getting hotter, along with the next sentence that falls out of your mouth. “How’s uh - how are you and Minsun doing?”

Fuck. You hadn’t meant to ask that. You hadn’t wanted to give the impression that you still cared, that you sometimes couldn’t help, but to wonder about them. However, your eyebrow quirks in curiosity as the question has Namjoon quickly glancing away to the view of the valley, a bitter looking smile replacing the soft one moments ago.

“We’ve been better.”

“Ah...I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. It’s been something I’ve expected for a while now.”

Your tongue burns in your mouth from holding back all the questions you want to ask. His gaze is void of emotion as he continues to look out onto the scenery; no inclination as to why he decided to vaguely disclose the troubles of his relationship to you. What was the point? Did he want you to know how badly it was going? And if he did, that only brought on a slew of questions you weren’t sure your heart was ready to divulge in.

At the end of it all, you only managed to dumbly mumble an, “Oh.”

An awkward air settles between the two of you as you redirect your own gaze to the mountainside beside you; trying your hardest to push down the unwanted glee surging inside you. Just because it wasn’t working out between them, didn’t mean he wanted you; nor that you were even ready to pick up your friendship with him. Much less think about anything more. The hurt he had left you with to nurse is still present; it would take more than this to fix it.

“___,” your name startles you enough to glance back at him, his eyes holding an indescribable emotion as he smiles gently again. “Would it be too much if I ask to hang out with you sometime? Uh,” his calm air suddenly dissipates at your widening eyes as he begins to fidget nervously with his shirt, “j-just to catch up you know?”

You let the silence envelope you both at this question as your eyebrows refuse to leave the top of your forehead. A war started within you at what to do; was it too soon? Was he only asking because things with his girlfriend weren’t going so well? Were you only ever thought of as an afterthought rather than someone who held value? The questions and doubts were neverending and the longer the silence lasted, the more your eyebrows began their descent to furrow in veinly concealed upset. You had imagined this moment so many times and while before it would bring hope and happiness, now, you’re only left with a bitter taste in your mouth.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“What?” Namjoon’s own confusion and hurt are reflected in his eyes, not quite believing you had just rejected the olive branch he had extended. “What do you mean?”

You take in a deep breath, willing the courage and hurt fuel your words so that you won’t let your resolve crumble. You knew you wanted to speak with him again, but your pride and his nonchalance for it all only made your decision solidify. “Namjoon, it’s been two years and now that you’re telling me things between you and your girlfriend aren’t going well, you ask me to hang out? Do you not see how bad that looks?”

“I didn’t mean it like that! ___, please believe me, it's not like that.”

“So then why decide to talk now, huh? Why not when things were good a year ago or even months ago? Namjoon, I can’t - ” your voice breaks and it takes a hard swallow for you to regain your composure “- I can’t just pretend like nothing happened and go “catch up” as if we’re still friends.”

You don’t miss the flinch your last words give him and you almost cave at the somewhat desperate look in his eyes, but you hold fast and refuse to look away from him. Where this sudden steely resolve came from, you had no idea, but the fact alone that he believed that you would go back like the past two years didn’t happen wounded you. Were you not worth more than that?

But it seems you weren’t the only one who had also steeled their resolve.

Namjoon swallows before he hesitantly takes a step closer to you, hand twitching at this side as if wanting to reach out, but stopping himself. “You did have me blocked, you know.” He pauses, but lets out a sigh as he mutters softly, “But you’re right. I didn’t really try to reach out before either. I did think about it a lot, but I guess I was just too hesitant to.”

His admittance did bring some relief, but it was short lived. At this point you weren’t even sure what would even satisfy you anymore. Did you guys need more time? Would you ever even be able to be friends again? The unknown of it all scared you, but you knew your worth and you knew that you wouldn’t give in so easily. It took two years of his silence for you to finally put yourself first, even when your heart sometimes wanted something else.

“I need more time to think about it,” you finally muttered as you once again stared out onto the scenery. “Maybe one day we could be friends again, but let me just...think it through.” Your feet shuffle in your nervousness as you bring yourself to apologize - after all, he wasn’t the only one who had been in the wrong. “I’m...I also want to say sorry about that fight. I was being stupid and it wasn’t fair to you either.”

You miss the way Namjoon’s eyes widened at your apology and how there was a certain understanding to them, but you hear his response all the same.

“It’s okay...we were both being dumb that day.”

The silence isn’t as suffocating as before, but there was a note of sadness now because despite the apologies; you weren’t ready. Despite trying to move forward and finding your worth, you realize with some bitterness that you still very much loved him. And this time you weren’t so willing to let yourself fall into that feeling so blindly again.

Your eyes briefly meet his before you mutter a quiet “I have to go,” and begin your trek back down the trail, needing to go home and take a long bath to digest today. You don't get far however when you hear him reply with the same soft tone.

“I’ll talk to you later.”

Your steps slow, but with a deep breath you continue on your way without an answer. Maybe you were being petty and maybe you ruined your only chance to possibly mend this thing with him. But you knew deep down that you had to put yourself first no matter if the bridge was completely burned in the process. A selfish part of you though hoped that this time he would be the one chasing after you.

Because you resolutely promised yourself that you would no longer chase what doesn’t serve you. You were worth more than that.

[ohheyitsokay]

trials

this takes place in my ‘poly frontier’ universe

pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco “Catfish Morales, Ben “Benny” Miller and a female reader

wordcount: 2.1k

warnings: all fics in this series are 18+, poly relationship, domestic, romantic, and sexual intimacy. strong language, angst with a happy ending

summary: this one is a Santi story - he tries to bring another girl into the relationship, and learns instead how much he loves you

it wont be everyone's cup of tea but I felt like it was an important part of the story

note: don’t hate Santi! I think this is a pretty normal, and the best sunsets come after rain

>>

Santi was the first to branch out. He didn’t mean to – hated himself for it a little, but he did.

This – whatever this is, it’s a ticking time bomb, he told Will. One of has to do something before it breaks all of our hearts.

It was a lie.

They both knew it. But he had the money and the looks and the confidence and he was just hurt enough by the sight of you asleep in Ben’s lap one afternoon that he just… let it get to him.

Brooded and boiled until he was overcome with false righteousness and pure selfishness.

He didn’t look you in the eyes when he told you he was going to try to get another girl. It wasn’t that he was leaving what you all had, just that he deserved a chance at whatever he called balance. His gaze in the other men’s eyes was too bold – the look of a desperate man, terrified of being hurt so causing it on his own terms.

You nodded numbly, shocked in spite of yourself, scolding and scathing voices in your mind telling you not to be selfish. Not to be greedy.

He deserves more than sharing.

Tucking yourself into Frankie’s arms, you tried not to glare or cry and only failed at the latter. Because it’s not the dating another girl that hurt, really it’s not. Polyamory is hard, and it was always an open option. What hurts is his blatant choice to ignore the relationship his has with you, specifically, that he’s ignoring everything you and him have worked for, built with love and time and care.

Rubbing gentle hands over your skin, Will and Frankie and Ben shared looks as Santi stalks away.

Frankie corners him in the garage the next morning. You had slept between him and Will the night before, but they had all felt you toss and turn, all spent a fair amount of time staring at the ceiling themselves. His dark eyes are an insecure that shoots into Frankie’s core – it’s a look he knows, has spent months overcoming. He swallows hard, his words dying in his throat, and he simply shakes his head.

It almost breaks Santi in two, the first moment one of his loves betrays the damage he’s done, but he tells himself there’s no going back.

“Better now than later, when our parents hate her or –”

Frankie’s look stops him and he flinches away.

Will is at the bar he chooses without an invite, knowing where he’d be without having to even ask and they both try not to think of you at home with Ben, probably dripping flames. Santi wonders if it hurts more to watch him flirt, or to do it, but neither of them say a word to each other. In spite of it all, the respect his judgement, respect his choice, and that hurts too.

It feels strange to have others looking him up and down and to look back, smile with lust void of love and soak in the attention.

Before he succumbs to it, Santi wishes Will would come over, slide his hand around his neck and… stop respecting him so much. It would pull him back, but since he doesn’t, the thought dies under the burn of cheap alcohol.

-

She’s lovely, really, graceful like a cat.

Santi has kept her from you all for a few weeks now, keeping his dignity with distance. But now she’s here, in your home, and you should be jealous but instead you just smile sadly at her, and slip off to the kitchen.

He likes… coffee, dark roast, with just a clump of raw sugar. You’re stirring it when you realize they followed you, hovering at the door. The ache of it is less than it was before and they’re happy together, so for his sake, you sit down across from her.

She’s kind, friendly. Knows the gist of the situation, tells you she’ll go at your pace.

And it crashes into you, how he’s pinned you at a time when know one else is home, offering her up to you like a plea, a child who used the superglue to make a gift, never mind the fact that his hands are both stuck to it and burning.

It feels reasonable to have another woman around, to make the numbers less absurd, to – to help you. Her smile is a little shy and she takes you hand and she looks at Santi with such adoration that a knot loosens in your chest involuntarily.

She doesn’t joke about it, any of it, and you almost wish she would. It would be so much easier to hate her if she was shallow, or stupid, or something but she’s not, and when she smiles you almost think you could be friends. You wonder if you could make it work, like they do for you.

Ben and Will come home early, stepping in like the angels they are, planting themselves solid at your side like trees with roots deeper than they are tall. When Frankie comes home, he takes the spot of the two of them as their eyes draw Santi into another room.

“What the fuck, Garcia,” Benny is as hurt as you are by it all, maybe more.

“Shut up Miller.” He’s glaring, filled with venomous satisfaction at how well the two of you have been talking.

“Cant you see it’s for the better?”

There’s silence – neither of them agree, too confused by him to respond.

“Don’t you ever wonder,” Santi tries again, knowing they’re listening because they love him too.

“No.” They spoke in unison, which makes Will roll his eyes. Neither of them hesitate, and something in Santi cracks.

-

You poke holes in the bottom of a styrofoam container with a plastic fork. She’s long gone now, but the date still lingers as you poke at your leftovers and try to unwind each moment of the date like strings of spaghetti.

On the surface it had gone well, you had thought you had fun until you felt a burn of tears under your eyelids.

Closing them you sigh, breathing like you practiced, gentle tides of love and logic washing over a feelings you tell yourself are selfish.

When you open your eyes, your Santi is standing behind her chair, and you almost cant breathe.

He went away for two weeks to help with a mission, and he’s here, one side of his mouth higher than the other. You want to kiss it, but you smile instead, and say, “You missed her by a couple minutes, sorry,” and actually mean it.

“I caught her in the parking lot,” he sits slowly, carefully, and when he reaches for your hands it’s almost tentative. It makes you blink again, how his eyebrows are bending. For the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t understand what it means, cant predict at all what he says next.

“I broke it off,” his eyes are in yours.

“I don’t understand,” you hear yourself say.

Santi searches for the words, like he had them but cant make them come out of his mouth.

“She’s not you,” he says. “I want you.”

You realize with a start that his hand is trembling, and he says your name in a way you’ve never heard before – like he’s terrified. That’s how badly he wants this, wants.. you. There’s no question in your mind, your eyes answer him.

It’s messy, not like a movie, the way he tugs you up and up and into his arms, the shudder of his broad shoulders and he buries himself into you as much as he can.

Like a hazy, blurry dream, your arms find their way around him, holding him like he’s fragile, another first.

He doesn’t say You’re enough for me, or You deserve the world, or anything dramatic.

Instead he says, “Can I buy you dinner?” And, “I’m sorry,” and “It’s been too long.”

And he says “I love you.”

-

He already asked the others, calling them each on his drive to you. Asked like he was young, if it was okay. Santi knew none of them had fallen in love with her, because even he hadn’t. But he had to ask for their permission as much as yours, to try to win you back.

They were more guarded than you, wary of his passion.

It takes time, and work.

He stays up later than he should talking with Benny about everything and nothing, hands nervously putting together snacks. When the younger man holds you, Santi teaches himself to join, to be held and hold you both. It feels good, which feels like guilt.

He works on that, too.

Frankie and him never talk about it. For weeks he thought his oldest friend had understood, more of less forgiven him without a word. One day they’re out for lunch, and his eyes flicker at the waitress, tucking her hair behind her ear. When he returns his gaze to the man across him, his blood runs cold. It’s been years since he’s seen furious determination brewing in Frankie’s dark, caring eyes, but it’s there now and he hates it. It takes discipline, to watch how he’s perceived as closely as he watched his intentions, but he does it.

It was easier than winning Will back.

“How long has your logic been shit?” Has your heart been in the wrong place this whole damn time?

“I just got on the wrong path, Ironhead.”

“Like hell you did,” his eyes were ice. “You let that happen.”

It would’ve been easier if he punched him. This wasn’t a kiss and make up moment either. The work ended up being long talks while you forced them to drive to pick you up when your car broke down the town over. Forcing words out being so honest it hurt, until has heart and throat felt raw. Making Will understand it was out of his own fears. Showing him how he was fixing it.

And weeks of letting with watch him again, eyes not missing a single touch or flinch or moment between you all. Actions to reinforce his words.

It hurt, but infinitely less than feeling distant from you all to begin with.

-

Will and your Catfish bring it up with you, one sunday afternoon as you tuck yourself between them and let their hands trace your skin.

“How are you doing?”

“I don’t know, Will. Better, I think. I missed him.”

Frankie places a row of warm kisses down the side of your neck.

“He missed you too. It’s Pope, he’s... he’s scared, love.”

“I don’t know if I believe that, yet.”

Ironhead grumbles at your confession, his big fingers squeezing the meat of your thigh.

“You gave him another chance, but you’re holding back. What does your gut say?”

“Unreliable - I’m in love with him.”

His head pops up and he kisses you before half-smiling. Frankie’s hand finds one of his, and they share a look.

“Can we tell you, querida? What we’ve seen.”

“Some objective evidence,” Will kisses you again.

“He loves us.” Another kiss. 

“You.”

-

It’s quiet as Santi flips through his latest files. The evening air is cool, and he should be getting ready for bed but you’re not home yet, and they’re all milling about waiting. You texted them how tired you were, what an awful evening you had.

“It should just be another couple of minutes,” Will says, and Frankie checks his watch. Ben wanders to the kitchen and they can hear him mixing hot chocolate.

When you walk through the front door, they fold you in their arms. Santi holds back, doubt still nagging at his mind. You let him back in, let him take you don't dates, but you didn’t fit together any more. He was running out of ways to communicate with you.

But you slump over, gently pushing aside his files and placing his laptop away before replacing it with yourself. Molding into him you sigh, and almost instantly fall asleep.

You’re small and vulnerable in his arms and the weight on his legs feels like trust.

The air in the room shifts, lighter, more breathable than it’s been in months. Adoring, proud eyes watch, and he wants to cry.

For the first time maybe ever, he’s sure that everything is going to be okay.

-

The bar was mercifully quite that evening, and if made it easy for you to find your love. A small, familiar feeling tugged in your gut as you made your way over to him, eyes on the waitress who was leaning over him with unwholesome intentions.

Then the feeling settled, and was replace with a warmer feeling. She was putting down a tray that had your order on it, and Santi was thanking her, distracted checking your message on his phone.

“Hey, handsome,” you said, the warm feeling spreading throughout your chest. “Can we actually get out of here?”

His brown eyes were big, dark lashes catching the low lights as he stared at you. Somewhere in his mind, he thought too protest because your drink just got there, but the words stuck on his tongue. 

“Yeah... yeah of course, baby,” He signaled for the check before standing to draw you in his arms. Saying no to you had never really been an option. 

The two of you barely made it to his truck before your hands were all over each other. You liked the feel of him, pinning you against the metal frame, the desperate way he kissed you.

Pope was saying something about how you looked so fucking sexy, needing him so badly you couldn’t wait. You couldn’t concentrate on them. 

“Pope,” you said against his skin, sliding your hands under his shirt. In response, he only made a soft groaning noise and increases his urgency.

"Santi," you tried again, before your own gasp cut you off.

"Santi - fuck - Santiago!"

The look he gave you was that of a dog, when you held the treat just out of reach.

"I'm yours," you said, pulling his head in to press against your forehead. "And you," you kissed him, hard, fingers gripping his beautiful curls. "Are mine."

"Fuck," you could feel his heartbeat, his pulse, he was pressing into you so hard, like he wanted to blur where he ended and you began. You knew he understood.

"I am," he said into your skin again and again that evening. Not selfish position, a promise and a proclamation: "I'm yours."

"I'm yours."

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @pbeatriz

poly frontier taglist:

@grogusmum

[sheerfreesia007]

Ladies Night

Title: Ladies Night

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007​​

Words: 2,044

Warnings: Fluff, horrible pick up lines, sexy dancing

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711​, @fioccodineveautunnale​

Author Notes: This is for @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ to celebrate her birthday today! I know you didn’t ask for this but I figured since you like Frankie so much you’d get a kick out this. I hope you have a great day today! Feedback is always welcome. Thank you for reading.

Gif Credit: @ithinkwehitametaphor​

         Frankie’s raspy laugh rang out in the bar as he sat around the table with Will, Benny and Pope. The bar was slightly busier tonight since it was ‘Ladies’ Night’ and it gathered quite a bit of revenue from all the women in town who needed a night out to let loose. Benny jabbed into Pope’s side making the shorter man hiss in pain and immediately swing his closed fist into Benny’s shoulder.

         “Pendejo.” Pope hissed angrily as he scowled over at Benny and rubbed his side to ease the ache. Benny nodded his head over to Frankie who was taking another drag from his beer bottle as Will told him another story about him striking out while trying to flirt with a woman at the grocery store. Pope’s eyes darted over to Frankie and a sly smirk slowly crawled across his face as he took in his best friend.

         Frankie was leaning back in his chair with his legs splayed out looking as relaxed as he could possibly be. His arms were crossed over his chest but it wasn’t in the usual stressed pose that he normally was in. His trusty old worn ball cap was pushed up on his forehead letting his face to be seen easily instead of the norm of hidden under the bill. Frankie let out another raspy good-natured laugh and Pope noticed the crow’s feet that crinkled at the corners of his eyes. Frankie was truly and utterly relaxed and happy for once.

         “What do you wanna bet that Frankie’s tipsy right now?” Benny muttered to Pope as he leaned over to the man on his right. Pope barked out in laughter as his eyes danced over to Benny and then back over to Frankie who quirked an eyebrow at him from across the table. Pope shook his head and turned his head to Benny quickly.

         “He’s more than tipsy.” Pope said knowingly. Benny shook his head and surreptitiously pulled out his wallet.

         “Ten says he’s only tipsy Fish won’t get past that tonight.” Benny said smirking slowly over to Pope. It took Pope only a second to nod his head as he slip his own wallet out of his back pocket.

         “Alright ten says Fish gets drunk enough to start noticing the women in the bar.” Pope says in challenge and Benny starts to snicker.

         “He’d never.” Benny says in contest. Benny hands the bill over to Pope who then looked over to Will who was already sliding his eyes over to the other men.

         “I’m gonna get another round for the table.” Frankie said as he stood from his chair with a wide smile. Benny nodded as he moved to lean against the table with a grin.

         “Sounds good Fish.” Pope said nodding his head. Frankie ducked his head and began walking over to the bar.

         “What do you two idiots have cooking?” Will asked smirking at Pope and Benny.

         “Betting on Fish getting drunk tonight or not.” Benny said grinning widely at his brother from across the table.

         “Oh sweet jesus, seriously guys?” Will asked exasperated as he rolled his eyes at the other two men.

         “You could get in on this.” Pope offered with a smirk and Will shook his head at the man.

         “Nah man, this is the first time he’s had a night off from parenting Rosalie. He deserves this, don’t be dicks.” Will said shaking his head.

         “Then hold the pool for us.” Pope said sliding the two ten dollar bills across the table to Will.

         “Fine but don’t push him. He’s finally relaxing, don’t make him regret it.” Will cautioned the two men across from him.

         “Don’t worry Will we won’t.” Benny said and Pope nodded eagerly agreeing.

           Frankie lifted the beer bottle to his mouth again and felt the beer slide easily into his mouth. Lowering the bottle he smiled softly as he swallowed the alcohol. This was nice. Sitting here shooting the shit with his brothers was probably one of the bet past times he’s ever partaken in. Feeling the effect of the alcohol already in his system he leaned back in his chair from the table and let his eyes close slowly. He figured he probably should’ve cut himself off a few beers ago but the easy comradery and the stress of being a single parent had started to get to him making him wanting to be able to let loose for once.

         Just then a flash of deep purple caught his eye and he turned his head slightly while his eyes tried to track the color across the room. When he finally caught sight of the purple he felt his chest constrict. A young woman was wearing an off the shoulder dress in a deep purple color. The dress showed off her shoulders to his eyes and he felt his mouth begin to water before his eyes traveled to see that the dress ended right at her knees and her calves were accented by the strappy black heels she wore on her feet.

         She was dancing over by the jukebox that had been taken over a set of speakers that were hooked up to someone’s laptop and playing songs that were geared towards women. He smiled slowly as he watched her hips sway to the beat of the music and her dress swished around legs giving him glimpses of her skin above her knees. Her hands were splayed across her stomach and then traveled up her body to reach up into the air as she thrashed her head from side to side in delight to the music.

         Just then her eyes popped open and Frankie felt his heart stutter in his chest as she locked on to him. He felt everything fell away as he stared at her in awe as she continued to sway on the makeshift dancefloor. Feeling lost and drawn to her swaying body, Frankie felt like she was casting a spell over him as he slowly stood from his chair.

         “Frankie, you alright?” Pope asked curiously as he watched Frankie stand with his head turned toward the dancefloor.

         “No fucking way.” Benny whispered to the men at the table as the three of them watched Frankie walk over to a woman in a purple dress. Will grinned as a new song began to play over the speakers and he instantly recognized the song.

         They all watched in various degrees of shock as Frankie began to dance with the woman. Frankie’s hands were gripping loosely on the woman’s hips as he pulled and pushed her into his body to the song. Pope smirked proudly as he watched Frankie grind the woman closer to his body and move with her body.

         “Pay up Pendejo I won.” Pope gloated as he turned to Benny who huffed at him with a wide grin.

         “Atta boy Fish!” Benny called out loudly and whistled.

         “Benny!” Will snapped over at his brother in a chastising manner.

         “It’s all good Will. I’m pretty sure Frankie’s seduced by the woman already he won’t hear a thing at all.” Pope said knowingly.

           Frankie pulled her closer as he swayed his hips with hers along to the music. He was consumed by everything of her. Her light floral perfume reminded him of a tropical oasis and her sweet smile made him want to nibble at her lips until she was gasping. Soft smaller hands crawled up his chest as the two of them swayed and ground their hips against each other. Frankie sucked in a breath as he looked down into her pretty eyes feeling like he was drowning in their depths as they swayed. The only thing that seemed to keep him afloat was her undulating hips.

         “You’re a good dancer.” She said as she leaned closer to him with a delighted smile.

         “You’re better.” He said truthfully without thinking. She threw her head back in laughter and Frankie felt a warmth that wasn’t alcohol induced bloom inside his chest.

         “Must be the dance lessons I’ve been taking.” She said smiling up at him. Frankie looked at her with a quirked eyebrow as he twirled her around in his arms and tugged her back to his chest. He settled his hands on her hips and pushed and pulled moving her easily to hit each base beat of the song.

         “I could teach you.” He whispered in her ear and felt her whole body shiver against him. Frankie felt like he was high as he noticed how he affected her. He could see the goosebumps covering her skin and he could feel the warmth of her blush heating up against his cheek that was pressed to the side of her neck. He watched with hungry eyes as her lips parted and her tongue peeked out to trace against her bottom lip. Suddenly she arched back into him and slid a hand up around his neck as she gyrated against his front. “Fuck.” He hissed out softly and felt the smirk slowly form on her lips.

         “I’d like that.” She whispered into his ear when she turned her head to press her lips lightly against his ear lobe. Frankie felt a growl rumble in his chest as desire clawed at his lower stomach. “Maybe you can teach me the horizontal tango too.” Came her next sentence and suddenly the two of you froze. She jerked and ducked her head away from his. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. That was horrible.” She groaned in embarrassment and Frankie let out a deep chuckle at the situation.

         “Actually I’ve said worse.” Frankie admitted shyly and he watched as she turned in his arms easily to stare up at him curiously. Her eyebrow arched up and he huffed out a breath. “Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten I see.” He said lowly and watched as her eyes widened slightly before she burst into a fit of laughter. Frankie smiled widely as she clutched onto his biceps and leaned into him as her laughter shook her whole body. Suddenly her head tilted up and Frankie watched as a sparkle catch in her eyes and he felt his chest tighten in affection.

         “If you were a vegetable you’d be a cute-cumber.” She said before her mouth pinched together trying to hold in her laughter. Frankie let out a loud bark of laughter and felt a blush grow on his cheeks.

         “Is there an airport nearby or is that just my heart taking off?” Frankie asked as he ducked his head trying to hide his wide grin. He felt her fingers grip his biceps again and his eyes darted up to look at her bright happy face staring at him admiringly.

         “That’s a good one.” She admitted grinning and Frankie noticed the blush dusting her cheeks. “But I’ve got a good one.” She said grinning even wider and that little sparkle in her eye intensified, Frankie waited with baited breath. “Nice shirt. Is it made of boyfriend material?” she asked with a proud look on her face and Frankie chuckled softly as his heart began to beat quickly in his chest. Just then something clicked in his head and he stared down at her confidently.

         “Let me take you out and you can tell me if I’m boyfriend material.” He suggested confidently. Her eyes widened again and her lips parted huffing out a breath as if the breath was knocked out of her. Frankie shuddered against her as he felt her nails graze lightly against his biceps.

         “Yes.” She hushed out as her head began nodding frantically. Frankie grinned widely as he ducked his head down towards her until he was hair’s breadth away.

         “Can I kiss you?” he asked lowly.

         “Please.” She whispered against his lips and Frankie surged forward kissing her deeply. Loud cheers roused from behind him and Frankie threw up a middle finger to his friends who all laughed loudly. After a few minutes he pulled away taking in deep breaths feeling as if she had sucked the air straight from him. “Let me give you my number. We can set up a date.” She whispered softly against his lips and Frankie nodded his head eagerly before pressing another soft kiss to her lips.

[poppunkdee]

Running

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Latina!reader.        AO3 

Warnings: Explicit (no smut but there's violence and mentions of death) some angst and unrequited love? let me know if I should add any other warnings. 

Word Count:14.7k

A/N: Guys this is my first try at writing Frankie and honestly it was supposed to be just a tiny angsty thing and it became this monster retelling of the entire movie! So honestly read at your own risk! 

The beat of the music felt like it was still beating within your chest even now that you’ve stepped out of the reception hall and onto the balcony overlooking the ocean. The full moon bathed you, and the waves crashing below you, in a soft white glow. The night was perfect. You suppose that's why they chose this place, you would have too if it had been you. The hem of your dress rippled in the wind against your ankles, the slit along your left leg billowed open for a second before someone joined you. Your dress trapped between you and the man standing on your left. His warmth radiated through your leg giving your chilled body a respite from the goosebumps that had made themselves comfortable on your skin.

“South America, huh?” You finally ask after a few minutes of silence. “Think that's the answer?” You take another sip from your drink. The alcohol does nothing to warm you up, just keeping you in that numb state that you’ve held yourself in since the beginning of the day. The heavy weight of your heart was a bit less of a burden with the coursing hot liquor thrumming through your veins.

The silence passes long enough that you thought he wasn’t going to respond. He finally set his glass down on the railing, his drink sloshing a bit. “There’s nothing left for me here.” He finally whispers quietly enough that you thought it was more to himself than to you, his head bowed down a bit, a sigh leaving his body as if against his will. A few more seconds pass, the part of your dress that wasn’t trapped, moving with the breeze. The music slowed down inside and you knew there was no way you could go back in there, years of working in the most dangerous situations, but a wedding had you wondering how to pull off a hard out. “I could use a friend out there, Tweets.” He finally says as he shifts his body to look at you, your dress rippling in the wind once more now that it wasn’t trapped, those goosebumps reappearing on your skin. You can tell he’s trying to persuade you with the use of your callsign. A name Frankie had given you after the team discovered your twitter account where you would live tweet movies while drunk.

You mirror his movements to meet his gaze, “You’ve got friends here” you look back down at your drink. Your fingers lightly tracing the rim of the cup as you let out a whisper, “Friends that need you.”

He releases a long breath and looks back towards the door separating the both of you from the celebration that should have been filling you with happiness. A happiness you can't seem to muster when your hearts are breaking with every kiss within those walls, “You and I both know we don’t have shit here. Not anymore.” He sucks his tongue against his teeth, the noise lost with the wind and the crash of the waves below you. “Not now.”

With a slight huff you finally give him a good look. His combed hair had lost its integrity after he ran his hands through it all day. His blue dress shirt was loose around his waist, almost pulling free from where he had tucked it onto his pants, a dark spot along his back where sweat had pooled after dancing throughout the night. To everyone else he was the perfect best man, dancing and smiling, his toast was beautiful. But you knew him, you knew that his smiles never managed to reach his eyes, you knew that the tears he shed at the end of his toast weren’t just due to the happiness he felt for his friend, but also due to the heartbreak that the woman he loves was now married to his best friend. You were sure that he could see the exact same in your own eyes.

The team was well aware of your feelings for the groom, how you had finally found the courage to tell him how you felt. The cheers they gave you at the booth you all shared when you announced that you were finally going to tell him, only for him to show up with a date, a girl who looked vaguely familiar. The team gave you sad pats on the back at the end of that night. Telling you it probably won’t last, don’t give up hope. Then, six months later when Frankie announced the engagement you and Pope had gotten equally trashed, that night he let you know that he and Vanessa had been sleeping together before your last tour, and how she refused to see him when the team returned stateside despite him confessing his feelings to her. She had moved on, the tour had gone on longer than she expected and she had moved on. What surprised them both was that she had moved on with someone from his team. Santiago had only thought about getting back home to her, but she had slipped through his fingers during the team’s deployment. Frankie met her through a dating app, letting her know that he was retiring soon. Santi couldn’t blame her, just as much as he couldn’t blame his friend for falling in love with her. Now, you both found each other taking refuge on a balcony at the wedding of the two people you both loved.

“Flight leaves in two days” he breaks the silence again. This time picking up his glass, his drink sloshing a bit more forcefully letting you know he was drunk enough to face the party again, turning back towards the building he added, “You know where to find me.”

“Santi” you say just before he opens the door leading back into the reception, his fingers still on the door handle, “I’ll miss you.”

You lasted two weeks. Two weeks after Frankie and Vanessa returned from their honeymoon. The night you bought your one way ticket to South America felt worse than the wedding. It was another fight night. Fight night was exclusively team nights, the guys gave you so much shit when you brought a date once. The poor guy was unable to keep up with the jokes at his expense, but was sharp enough to know that he wasn’t welcome. He left halfway into the night and you never heard from him again. So when Frankie showed up with Vanessa your heart felt like someone was giving it a tight little squeeze. Even Will didn’t bring Monica, his finance, along to fight nights. The feeling returned with a vengeance when Benny gave her a bear hug and that goofy grin of his when she cheered him on. You decided that maybe two beers wasn’t going to be enough to get you through the night. The rest of the night passed by in a blur of loud cheers, the sounds of men beating the shit out of each other, Frankie’s voice when he yelled out his support to Benny, and the laughs he let out when Vanessa would whisper something into his ear. Benny took three hits that drew blood, but your bleeding heart ached with a hurt you had never been trained to ignore. It was when Vanessa leaned into Frankie’s body and he placed a soft kiss on her forehead when you decided that enough was enough. Pope was right, there was nothing left for you here. Will made sure to drive you home, he helped you climb up the stairs to your apartment. Once inside and making sure you sat you down on your couch without toppling over, he shuffled over to grab a glass of water from your kitchen.

“You can’t do this forever you know.” His soft words reached you as he handed you the glass of water and sat down on your coffee table facing you.

He didn’t have to elaborate for you to know where he was going with this conversation. “I know” was all you managed to choke out, a tear rolling down your cheek. You take a gulp of water to try to calm your emotions. Jesus you’ve been trained to keep them in check yet here you are, drunk and breaking down, because your fucking broken heart couldn’t take it anymore. “I know, but I-” you cut yourself off when a sob claws its way out of you. “Will I-” you try to speak again but after the first one made its way out you had no way to control the rest of the tears that began to pour out of you.

“Hey, hey come here.” Will moved to sit next to you, a bit awkwardly. Although the team saw you as a younger sister, Pope was always the one you seeked when it came to stuff like this. Yet, he still wrapped his arms around you as you buried your face into his chest and finally let go. You have no idea how long he held you like that, but he kept you close until your sobs subsided into hiccups and and your tears had stopped soaking his hoodie. Your heart had taken a beating that night that you weren’t sure you would ever recover from.

“I think Pope could use a friend” You break the silence that fell between the two of you. His chest moved as he released a deep sigh. You sort of expected him to scold you about running away. Instead he released you and handed you the glass of water that had been forgotten on the coffee table.

Waiting until you finished the glass of water Will finally asked, “You sure about that, Tweets?” His tone was gentle, as if he was afraid that you would start crying again. You briefly wondered if he was always this uncomfortable with crying women. Shaking the thought from you head you will yourself back to the conversation.

“Yeah.” You took a deep breath and released it along with a stray sob, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Will, Monica, and Benny helped you store a few belongings into a storage shed later that weekend. Handing Benny a copy of the key to the shed and the keys to your now empty apartment, you gave him a tight hug and a; “Don’t let them hit you too hard, Benny” before climbing out of his car and walking into the airport.

The next week you and Pope were planning a tactical raid of a house connected to a major cartel.

-----

“No.” Your voice was hard when Pope had outlined his plan to ask the team for help once Yovanna had finally given him the location of Lorea. “I don’t want them to be involved.”

“It's been three years.” Pope sighed. With one look at your face he started again, “Fine, I can ask them to just come down for the recce, just three days, then we hand it over to the agency and everyone can go home again.”

“You and I both know you want them for the full op.” You nibble on your bottom lip as you look over the plan again. He was right, you hate it but he was right, you need the team for this. You’ve both been here too long, chasing down clues and people that got you nowhere, and dealing with corrupt police officers. Sure you’ve both bent some of your own rules, telling yourselves the good outweighed the bad. Taking money from people you knew you shouldn’t, but you’ve survived. Three years and you haven’t been murdered in the streets, yet. Finally you had a chance to bring down Lorea and you were afraid that seeing one particular teammate might bring back feelings you were sure you had dealt with in the past three years? No you told yourself this is bigger than you. “Fine, but I’m not going back to ask them.” You agree swiftly and begin to walk towards the door of his apartment. His voice makes you pause when you’re halfway to the door.

Pope calls out your name, you know he's about to say something you’re not sure you’re going to like, Pope hardly uses your name unless he wants you to listen. Like a scolded child, you choose not to look back at him letting him continue talking to your back, “I only need one pilot, I don't have to ask the whole team.”

Pope was looking out for you, you know that, but something dark inside you made you want to punch him for implying that the reason you didn’t want to involve the team was because you were scared of seeing Frankie again. Yes, you were apprehensive about it, but you weren’t about to risk an op going wrong just to save yourself from seeing someone you had worked so hard to get over. Lorea was one lucky son of a bitch for evading your efforts for so long but he was not going to continue getting away with this shit anymore, not when you finally had his location. “Call the fucking team, Garcia” was all that you said to him before walking out.

-----

“How are we doing up here?” Pope asks when he feels the chopper struggling as it keeps gaining altitude.

You give Santiago a look that he reads in a second. Tom had been pissing you off since before he implied that Yovanna was a loose end that needed to be clipped, and despite being well aware of your anger he kept prodding at you as you helped Fish pilot the chopper. If the boys saw you as a little sister, Tom saw you as the annoying one that had to be dragged everywhere in order to keep mom happy. These past three years had let you forget how much the man managed to get under your skin.

“How ‘bout you give them space to do what they need to, yeah?” Pope taps his shoulder and gestures towards the seat he had just vacated as he speaks to Tom.

“I’m good here.” Tom replied in the same hard tone he uses to give orders. You roll your eyes at the tone, Redfly was quick to take the lead when it came to the team. Even if this plan was outlined to go smoothly by yourself and Pope before he got greedy.

Santiago looks like he wants to push Tom over to the seat, but thinks better of it and directs his next words at you, “Do you think we can make it over?’ just as the lowest ridge gets closer and closer.

“I don’t know” You reply, keeping your grip on the joystick in front of you steady. You’ve flown over this section of the sky several times in the past three years. Flying out here to catch the sunset brought you peace that you’ve only shared with one other person. However today your heart felt heavy as you soared over the jungle. The man you had shared this with was no longer by your side, and the one that was, well running from daydreams with him was the reason you found yourself here in the first place.

“Fish?” Tom asks, as if your assessment was not good enough. You roll your eyes at his words. Just because you had only flown for the last tour the team was active didn’t mean you were any less skilled of a pilot.

Frankie doesn’t blink an eye when he replies, “Tweets is right, I’m not sure” Just as he says that the engine makes a noise that you and Fish both know is never a good sign.

“Alright, baby alright” Fish tells the chopper as it begins to shake harder and the engine whines. You know you should be paying more attention to the struggling bird, but when he talks to the helicopter in that raspy whisper you can’t help but think about how it would feel to have him say those words to you. You never cared for your name, but if he whispered it to you like that...well, that thought left you slightly breathless. “Come on now.” You shake your head internally, now is not the time! You can tell from his voice that his focus is fully on the task at hand. His tunnel vision has sucked him in and he sounds like he's determined to make it over the ridge out of sheer force of will.

“Fish” You warn as a loud beeping begins giving you warning signs of redlining, the joystick in your hands vibrating with the efforts of the engine. “Fish, we’re redlining!” you press more urgently as the beeping becomes more insistent. Behind you you hear Pope telling the others to strap in.

“It's close though.” Frankie says as he ignores the beeps and your warnings just as the ridge expands below you. His voice had an almost calm demeanor, one that you just could not fathom with the panic that was beginning to bubble within your chest.

“FISH!” You yell when the chopper gives another unforgiving bump.

“It’s too much weight, its too much fucking weight” Frankie finally concedes lifting his voice above the whine of the engine, his focus no longer on the ridge but on you as you look up at him in alarm, the crease between his brows finally allows the panic into your chest to spread. “We’re never gonna make it!” His grip on the joystick makes his knuckles white, and the vein in his neck jutting out a bit as he growls out that last bit. You briefly wonder what it would feel like to run your tongue along that vein.

Jesus, snap out of it!

Tom appears behind you again, this time you're glad for his interruption, “What does that mean?”

“It means we’re losing fucking money” Fish replies as the joystick he holds begins to vibrate with the same force as the one you’re holding on to.

“You wanna leave $50 million in the middle of the fucking jungle?” Tom asks incredulously.

“You wanna get to the ocean?” Frankie replies without missing a beat, looking over at Tom with an eyebrow raised as if asking him to challenge him. Frankie was always the calm, level headed one on the team so when he gave anyone that look he meant business.

Pope intervenes before you could add to the fire, “Alright, go do it!” he calls into the back letting Benny and Will know that you have to lose weight in order to get things back to normal.

You can hear shuffling in the back and the sound of the wind whipping through the cabin as the others throw duffles out of the main cabin. You look over at Frankie as you chew your bottom lip from the stress, his eyes reflecting the same worry as he meets your gaze. You're not sure if its the adrenaline or the look he gives you, but you feel a shiver run through your body with the weight of his eyes. As soon as a few duffles are thrown out you can feel the vibrations on your joystick lower in intensity, and the bird rises just a bit from the loss of weight. Feeling like you physically have to pull yourself away from Frankie’s gaze your eyes survey the gages across the console.

“How is she feeling now?” Pope’s voice carries towards you and Frankie.

“Better!” You shout over the noise of the ramp closing.

“Come on!” Frankie begins to mutter under his breath in that whisper once again, “Come on.”

“Fish we-” you’re about to warn him that your joy stick began to vibrate again when you get a glimpse of the ocean. The sun reflects off the water, giving off a mesmerizing effect as the waves ripple across the surface. For a moment you let the view warm your insides, sending a wave of calm through your body. You’re about 100 meters away from the ridge when the gearbox gives out.

“THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO DOING?!” Will’s voice rings in your ears along with the rapid beeping within the cockpit and Frankie’s groan as he pulls on the joystick so that you don’t lose control and fall into a spin. You blink rapidly as you’re pulled back to the cockpit. The bird was losing altitude, alarms were blaring and the joystick in your hands was getting harder and harder to keep steady.

“We should land, we should land now!” Frankie tells you as the jungle gets closer with every second. At this point your heart feels like it might fall out of your butt. Despite all the crazy situations you’ve been in while miles up in the air, a failing bird was always one of your biggest fears.

“Copy that!” You reply as you start preparing for a crash land and quickly think back to the area you had just flown over, looking for a valley in the thick jungle. The panic you had felt before when Fish had seemed so determined was gone, your adrenaline rushing through your body like it would when you had to pick up the men from a hard out. Your nimble fingers began to attend all the proper switches while your right hand kept the joystick you held steady. All while your eyes darted across the jungle below you looking for a flat surface.

“Crash land here and we all die!” Tom yells at you when he sees you preparing for a landing.

Ignoring him you call out, “There should be a farmer's field on the other side of that ridge, we passed it on the way up!”

“I remember it!” Frankie says as he tries to maneuver the rapidly failing bird.

Just as the bird made it over the ridge the gearbox gave another awful groan and two more alarms began to wail within the cockpit.

“We need to lose the money” You tell Frankie over the headset.

Tom looks at you both as if you’ve lost your minds. But before you can yell at him Frankie beats you to it, “LOSE THE MONEY OR WE ALL DIE!” He shouts past Tom and into the cabin his adam's apple bobbing with the effort of shouting over the noise within the cockpit. “Hit the external release” he continues to shout as Tom begins to strap himself into the seat Pope had offered him earlier.

“It didn’t work!” you hear Pope shout from within the cabin. Your adrenaline rush had you calculating the outcome of keeping the bag below you and you did not like the odds.

“There should be a manual override!” Frankie instructs as you both begin to sweat from the exertion of trying to keep the bird in the air long enough to drop the load so that everyone will have a chance of surviving the hard landing. Behind you there is more shouting and then the groan of the bird when the bag is finally released. The second the bag is dropped the joystick in your grip jumps up from the lack of weight holding it down, and you vaguely hear Fish curse.

“FUCK, I GOTTA JUMP” Benny’s voice is almost lost in the chaos that ensues after the chopper jerks to the left as Frankie tries to circle around the field where he was attempting to land. The joystick in your hand gave an awful jerk that ripped it from your hands. Your heart felt like it had jumped out of your chest for a second as your fingers tried reaching for it once more, although gravity pulled you away from it with the way the bird tipped.

“Bad landing” Fish grunted out. You were on the verge of responding with a sarcastic reply, when another sudden pull jerked you forward and back, causing you to hit your head. You vaguely hear Frankie call your name before you pass out.

---

You’ve had quite enough of the bickering the team has kept up since the crash. The tension in the air was so thick it felt suffocating. That’s why you had chosen to sit a bit further away from the rest of the team when stopping for the night. Pope’s question about who shot first had begun to fester between him and Tom and you knew it was a matter of time before the two of them would be at eachothers throats. On top of that the pouring rain was not helping with anyone’s mood. Although you desperately wanted to build one, you knew that a fire would attract unwanted attention, so you kept quiet. Deciding instead to keep your thoughts on the noise of the rain pattering against the vegetation, rather than on the cold seeping into your bones.

“You okay?” Frankie’s voice drifted over to you as he sat down next to you.

“Yeah” you paused, “Well, no, but I will be.” You tell him knowing that there was no way you could hide the emotions that were bubbling up in your chest from your expressive eyes. The guys had trained for this, they knew how to push past their emotions during a crisis. They had lived to see their way out of many failed missions. You however had managed to stay a safe distance away. Your skills as a sharpshooter allowed you to stay at a distance, and later when you gained your pilots license, you were only ever in the line of fire when dropping them off on a mission or picking them up once they had reached a rendezvous point. Sure your time out here had kept you in a state of perpetual danger, but your ops lasted at most three hours, then you could deal with the aftermath in your apartment with your late boyfriend or later with Santi when he wasn’t curled up with Yovanna. This was different, you had trained for this years ago, but you’ve been out of practice and it was starting to get to you.

Frankie nodded at you, understanding clearly in his eyes, “You and Pope make a pretty great team.” he changes the subject as he hands you an MRE. “He told me you two have been doing a good job of looking out for each other these past few years.”

You stir the contents of the MRE together, thinking about how you’d thought you’d left this gunk behind when your team was retired. “Before Yovanna, he and I were all we had out here.” You tell him as you scoop out a bit of the gunk and shovel it into your mouth. Despite your hatred of the stuff it tasted like heaven after hiking through the jungle all day.

“Can I ask you something?” Frankie asks after a few minutes of watching you eat.

You swallow the bite you just took and meet his eyes. His soft brown eyes, peering at you from under his cap, have a question you were afraid of facing since Pope told you he intended to bring the team down. A question you had been running from for three years. You wanted to say no, to shut it down and tell him you didn’t want to talk about anything at the moment. You knew he would sit there in silence with you, that he won’t pry if you choose to not to let him. But you also knew that it wasn’t fair to him, two of his closest friends moved just after one of the most important chapters of his life, he deserved an explanation. “What is it, Cat?”

“Why’d you leave?” He asks softly, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer but he had to ask. “I know why Pope left, but why did you follow? If he and-” he paused as if trying to reach for the right words, “I thought you two would have…” his voice trails off, but his implication lingered in the air.

“Pope offered me a job.” You start, then decide he deserves the full truth instead of half truths, and if Santiago had come clean about why he left, you could too. “I couldn’t stay for the same reason Pope couldn’t,” you finally say when the MRE envelope was empty. “I thought I could, I thought it would pass, that I could truly go on with life like I had before, but it hurt too much to see the person I loved find happiness with someone else.” You kept your eyes fixed on the envelope, your fidgety hands had started folding it down. “So I ran, Pope offered me an out and I took it. Eventually, he and Yovanna found each other, and I...I found purpose within the job.” You decide he doesn’t need to know about the man you fell in love with and lost within the first year you had lived here. “I’m sorry for not saying goodbye, I took the cowards way out. I know that, but after...I just knew I couldn’t stay.” You fell silent after your mumbled explanation. Half expecting him to shuffle away now that you all but told him that the reason you left was because you were in love with him.

After what felt like an eternity, his hands reached out to stop yours from fidgeting with the envelope. He plucked the small folded packaging from your fingertips and wrapped his warm hands over your smaller ones. “I’m sorry-” he began, using that soft, but firm tone of voice he used when he wanted to make sure you were listening, but he didn’t get much out before the conversation the rest of the team was having drifted over and made you both turn towards the rest of the group, his hands leaving yours. However, it was then that you noticed his left hand was bare. A tan that should have been on his forefinger was missing, and for a brief second your brain was struggling to remember if his wedding band had been missing since he and the rest of the team arrived, or if he removed it for the op.

“We’re dancing with the Devil now” Benny’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts. Shaking your head at the dangerous path your mind was taking, you look up to hear Frankie’s reply.

“Dancing?” He had scoffed out, “We were dancing when we got on a plane to come down here. I would call this full intercourse.”

Benny chuckled at the way Fish reacted to his statement. Looking over with concern when his brother grunted out a noise of agreement as he made himself comfortable...well, as comfortable as he can get on a rock with a bullet wound on his abdomen. “How you doing, bud?” He asked his older brother.

“Golden.” Will let out as he closed his eyes.

“Here.” Benny offered his brother a mango that he had grabbed from the village where the team had crashed.

“You’re a good man Benny.” Will tells his brother as he accepts the mango, “We’re a dying breed boys.” He chuckles giving you a wink.

“No, we’re not” Benny argues, “The world is always going to need someone to go door to door to hold the line.”

“Cops go door to door to hold the line” Will returns, “We were warriors.”

“Well, it's hard to remember that sometimes.” Benny shoots back, you don't miss the way Frankie’s hand clenched into a fist. The same one that was holding yours not too long ago. The same one that was missing a ring.

“Yeah it is” He chimes in after he manages to unclench his fist and slides his open palms against his legs as he leans forward and rests his forearms on his thighs, pulling his body into a hunched position.

“What are you talking about?” Will asks him when he sees Frankie poke out from the ridge in his new position.

“I was too quick on the trigger. You know it, and I know it.” Frankie tells him, his fingers fidgeting with one another as he berates himself for the shots fired at the crash site. You want to pull his hands back towards you once more, but he’s pulled himself away from you and you don’t want to overstep. “I killed those people.” He lets out, anguish coating his words.

“No, you didn't,” Benny says, “We all did.” You nodded in agreement along with Will. Your fidget with the strap of your gun. It’s been a while since you’ve had to sleep with it strapped to your chest. Sure your handgun was always by your bedside, but this was different. Here with adrenaline running through your blood and the fear of being discovered made that section of your brain click back into focus where you shot first and asked questions later. The army gave you many skills, but sometimes you wonder what life might have been like if you had chosen a different path, one that didn’t require you to know how to make a clean shot from a mile away. Maybe you might be able to sleep through the night.

You spend the rest of the night taking shifts watching the camp as everyone sleeps. Your shift is shared with Will and he’s quick to catch you up on what you’ve missed back home. From Benny finally moving out of your apartment last year, Monica finishing her degree, to the new gym he and Benny have been training in.

“Finally tied the knot then?” You ask when your conversation lulls into a bit of silence and you’re dangerously close to nodding off.

Will smiles as he plays with the band around his finger, “Yeah, Monica told me her engagement ring was turning green on her finger and threatened to ask for a new one if I didn’t hurry up and take her to a chapel.” He chuckles at the face you gave him.

“Don’t tell me you two eloped?” your eyes wide as you realize what he was saying.

“Hey, it was her idea!” He chuckles as he raises his hands up as if surrendering, “Said she was tired of saving up for a dream wedding. So we took a weekend off and got hitched at the white chapel in Vegas. Figured if it was good enough for celebrities it was good enough for us.” He shrugged his shoulders, his smile faltering a bit when the movement caused discomfort on his wound.

“You two are amazing.” You laugh, thinking about how Monica would absolutely match Will’s spontaneity and jump on a plane to get married. “I miss her.” You let out in a voice dripping with sleep. You missed all of them, even if Tom always managed to get under your skin, you missed your boys.

“What about you, hot shot?” Will’s voice makes you peel your eyes open, “Is there another hot informant we might meet once we make it to the ocean?”

You want to laugh at Will’s wording, the team was not going to get information about Yovanna from you. “Nah, mine-” You let out a soft sigh, “No, mine wasn’t as lucky.”

“Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t know.” He said quickly when he noticed the far off look in your eyes.

“It’s alright, Will.” You pull your jacket closer to your body as you settle into the rock you were leaning into. “I was shit at keeping in touch, wasn’t I?” you ask.

Will looked up at you, “No one blames you.” He jutted out his chin in your direction as if asking you to continue.

With a smile you tell him, “He wasn’t an informant, he was actually part of the tactical team we worked with.” You explain, remembering the man who helped stitch your heart back together. His warm smiles and the way he would hold you tight after an op went sideways. A soft smile spread across your face. You weren’t a stranger to death, hell your career choice was proof of that. So remembering your past partner with fond memories and burying yourself in finding Lorea was one way to cope with the loss.

“So you’ve got a type huh?” He teases while wagging his eyebrows towards Frankie’s sleeping form. “Teammates” he mouths the word, as if the sleeping team might overhear your conversation. “I know you're a couple months older than Benny, but then age never seemed to bother you, so don’t go breaking my little brother’s heart.” He adds with a shit eating grin.

Laughing you shoot him a half hearted glare. “You cannot tease me, William.” You say, “Don’t forget that you had a bad habit of dating blondes before you found Monica.”

“Hey, hey didn’t you have blonde hair for a while?” He shoots back giving you one of his goofy grins, you flip him a bird in response. Oh yes, you missed your boys dearly.

“Shut up!” You try to glare at him but your laughter overtakes you.

“Alright, fine I’ll take over your shift if y’all won’t shut up and let us sleep.” Benny’s voice cuts through your laughter.

“Shit sorry, Benny.” You let out when you were finally able to get your giggles under control.

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t go falling in love with me.” He says with a grin.

You roll your eyes at them both when they start laughing anew. Huffing out that you were getting some much needed sleep, you lean further into the rock behind you and close your eyes. Missing the dark brown eyes tracking your movements.

---

The next two days were brutal on your feet. The jungle was unforgiving and even more so when you had to cross a river and continue hiking in wet clothing, you felt horrible that the animals you bought at the village were forced to continue walking while carrying wet packs. Although, it was too dangerous to stop and dry off by a fire, so you kept your complaints to yourself. By the evening of the second day tempers were running short and the trail was getting even more dangerous when you reached a ridge that changed the landscape into a rocky terrain.

The side of the ridge was dangerous. The trail was narrow and the drop was steep should you lose your footing. You had your eyes on the ground focusing where your next step would be and making sure your mule was staying on the side closest to the rocky wall.

“Stop pushing man, it's steep up here.” You hear Benny’s voice up ahead, Pope was leading the group with Tom, Benny, Will, you and Frankie taking the rear.

“Obviously, Man. We are on the side of a fucking mountain.” You hear William’s heated reply to his brother.

“Just shut up and concentrate! Jesus Christ!” You hear Frankie yell out behind you. Much closer than you thought he was, giving you a start. Your mule felt your moment of panic and made a soft whining noise.

“Come, on. Just go.” Will says as he stops in front of you causing you to place a soft hand on the nose of your mule, signaling to stop.

“Fuck you!” You hear Benny reply. You can feel the tension between the two brothers, wishing you had taken the spot between them so that you could have defused the situation.

“Oh really?” Will’s shout causes your mule to startle once more, giving a loud huff and pulling away from you. You quickly try to calm the animal down by gently tugging on the rope you held in your hand, and trying to reach out to pet his nose again. The animal, however, refused to calm down. It’s shrieks of fear got louder as the shouting between Benny and Will got louder. Eventually Tom’s voice joined, but you were too busy trying to calm down your mule to focus on what was being said.

Frankie noticed that your mule was retreating and you heard his low. “Whoa, Whoa” when it bumped into him behind you. Then, “Oh shit.”

The animal had tried to step back further but after sensing Frankie behind it, it tried stepping to the side, missing the ridge and slipping down. You felt the burn of the rope as it quickly slipped through your fist. You had been gripping the rope so tightly that for a second the weight brought you to your knees before you let go completely. The mule let out an awful screaming noise as it fell to its death. Leaving everyone in a tense silence as you look over the ridge where an explosion of cash puffed up as the mule and the cash made impact with the rocks below you. You hear an exasperated laugh as you kneel there looking down with wide eyes. “What the fuck are you laughing at?” You hear the words before you realize they left your lips.

“That was a living animal man.” Pope’s voice drifts into the air as you stumble back on to your feet. Frankie shuffled close to you, giving you a hand up.

“It could have been any one of us that went over,” Tom starts in a sarcastic tone, “and y’all worried about the fucking donkey?”

“You need to get your shit straight here, man.” You hear Pope’s response.

“What?” Tom replies. While the two are shouting at each other Frankie shuffles closer to you, helping you get on your feet once more and carefully dusting your hands of the pebbles that were embedded in your palms. “Me?”

“Yeah, you” You surprise Frankie when it was you who answered Tom instead of Pope. His fingers pausing what they were doing as he looks at you shouting in the direction of Tom.

“Don’t point your fingers at me!” Tom yells back at you. Frankie's fingers give your hand a squeeze. You know he's telling you to stand down, but you're too heated up to stop. Will and Benny share a silent look as the shouting is directed towards you. Tom and you might have passive aggressive arguments but he has never yelled at you like that. You hardly realize that Frankie has handed you the rope for his own mule. He begins to make his way towards Tom, knowing you're not going to heed his warning and stop yelling.

“You’re the only reason we are in this mess!” You continue. You sweep your arm out, the one that isn’t holding the rope, and gesture towards the situation that you all find yourselves in. Pope gives you a nod in agreement.

“Oh? How the fuck is that?” Tom asks you sarcastically, the ire in his voice evident as he yells at you from his position at the top of the trail.

After three years of taking care of eachother Pope’s anger rose when Tom turned on you. His reply was in a bitingly cold tone, “Don’t talk to her like that! You’re the one that had to grab every dollar you could get your hands on, didn’t you?”

“Both of you could have gotten Lorea two months ago! We didn’t have to be here, if you knew how to do your jobs right!” Tom spits back at both of you.

“Alright!” you hear Pope reply and push forward, seemingly done fighting with Tom.

“Fucking bullshit!” Tom yells after him.

“We are all on the hook, are we not?” Frankie asks Tom his voice strong and low, he has reached Tom at this point, his palm raised towards him. “Stop it!” He says in a raised voice, driving his point further.

“Fucking horse!” Tom grits out as his horse whines at the shouting.

“Stop it!” Frankie tells him again, this time his voice carries.

“Fine. Fine!’ Tom agrees when he sees the look Frankie gives him.

“We’re not picking at the fucking scab right now okay?” Frankie tells Tom now that he has his attention. “One foot in front of the other alright? Lets go.” He commands lifting an eyebrow when Tom looks like he might say something else to you. You stand your ground head held high in an almost challenging manner. “Jesus Christ.” Frankie mutters as Tom finally turns back around and continues following Santiago, who was further up the trail.

You, Benny, and Will exchange glances, the brothers deciding to give up whatever argument they had between themselves and began walking when Frankie gave them another wave of his hand to keep them going. Determined now to get off the side of a deadly mountain.

---

About two hours later as Frankie is scaring off the animals and you’re sitting on top of the ridge with Tom you decide you have to talk out your differences. It’s been a hard mission for everyone and it wasn’t fair to throw those words in Tom’s face. Not when he had a point, it could have been anyone of you that fell with that mule. With the way the rope pulled you and stung your hands, you remember it could have been you.

“Look, I talked a lot of shit back there. I didn’t mean that.” You say in between hard puffs of breath. You had after all just finished lugging over 100 bags of cash over a rocky ridge.

“Don’t worry about it.” Tom says shaking his head as if begging you not to bring it up any longer. Normally you would have just dropped it there, but call it your guilt for disappearing or your closest brush with death you wanted to make sure this time you cleared the air. “No, no its...this is on me. I could have talked Pope out of calling the team down here. But I didn’t, I knew it wasn’t just a recce and yet I let him bring you down here with only that information.” You take another breath, and Tom takes advantage of the pause to cut you off.

“No. I’m on the hook for this. You know? It is what it is.” Tom tells you as you hear Pope climb up next to you both.

Having caught the end of your conversation he interjects. “I am a bit of a dick, you know?” Giving you a tap on your leg so you can move out of the way he looks at Tom and says, “it is what it is, but also, Tweets is right. Sorry about earlier.”

Tom gives a small laugh agreeing with him as he gives you a hand while you climb over a boulder to move out of the way. Giving your hand a gentle squeeze before he lets go entirely. You know in his own way Tom has forgiven you both, you only hope that later, he can forgive himself.

After everyone has made it over the ridge and you’ve managed to pile the bags in a semicircle you pull out the last MRE envelopes in your pack. Handing one to each of the men, “It's mangoes only after this, boys.” You tell them as they each take an envelope.

“You could freeze an eskimos asshole out here.” Will says as he settles down to lean against the bags.

“I demand a fire.” Benny grunts out as he sits between Pope and Tom.

You laugh at the absurdity of Will’s statement. Shaking your head you decide that one argument was enough for today, no need to tell him that the Inuit people of the north wouldn’t agree with his word choice.

“We cold camp.” Will tells his brother as the group begins to settle in for the night.

Benny, ever the trouble maker reaches for one of the bags. Curious you watch his movements, as he pulls out a wad of bills and lights it on fire. “Fuck you.” he says holding the wad of cash looking directly at Will. “This is my ‘fuck you’ money.” Pope lets out a laugh next to you, his shoulders bumping into you gently.

“Dude what the fuck are you doing?” Will asks his brother as Benny waves the money torch in front of him, the warmth reaching you even with Santiago sitting between the two of you.

With a chuckle Tom answers for him, “Not enough men to carry all this money so we might as well be warm.” That was all Benny needed to keep going. He placed the bill in the center of the semi circle and reached for more, lighting it up as well.

“Jesus Christ” Frankie says on the other side of you, laughing at the absurdity of watching money go up in flames.

“Este loco” Santiago says, elbowing you as a smile finally appears on your face once you feel the warmth reach you.

Will looks apprehensive, at the growing flame. When suddenly Tom stands, opens a suitcase and throws the entire contents into the flame. Watching the bundles light up the boys begin laughing a bit harder.

“That’s a fire!’ Benny exclaims as the warmth begins to creep up your bodies. Will still looking apprehensive refuses to join in the laughter but does scoot a bit closer to feel the warmth radiating from the center.

Once you see that the boys look adequately warm you lean back against the bags and fight the edges of sleep. You still haven’t agreed to who will keep watch for the first half of the night and you don’t want to fall asleep without knowing what time you should be up.

“Rest your eyes, I’ve got your six.” Frankie tells you leaning back to lay against the bags next to you, his hand coming down to rest on your knee. “I’ve got the first shift.” He answers the question left unsaid. With a smile in his direction you rest your head on his shoulder and drift off. You’re asleep before you can feel his arm wrap around you and pull you closer.

----

About halfway through the next day you’ve made what seems like less progress than the days before. The rocky terrain has made it harder to move the bags. Despite your best efforts to make the process go faster you hate that the team is so exposed in certain areas. Just as you were about to ask how many bags you still had to get through in order to change your positions, you hear the unmistakable sound of a gunshot ricocheting against one of the boulders.

The team drops below various rocks within seconds. The sound of two more shots echo through the air and you climb around the boulder, you were crouched under, pulling your weapon into position and using the scope to focus on the ridge above you.

“Fuck!” You can’t tell who yelled out but you hear more, “Shit, shit shit!” below you where the boys had been lined up throwing the bags down.

“I’m hit!’ You hear Benny shout somewhere below you. Quickly you follow his voice and push the scope above his position trying to follow the trajectory of a bullet from his position.

“Benny you alright?” Will shouts.

“Yeah I’m fine, just grazed my shoulder!”

You catch Pope’s eye from your position, and send him a hand signal. You’ve got eyes on one of them. Nodding his head Pope lets you know he’ll draw fire so that you can get a clear shot.

“Shooter’s up on the ridgeline!” Pope shouts. The men don’t have to be told twice, they aim towards the ridge as you continue to creep up. Pope starts climbing the ridge on the other side, while Frankie begins to climb up towards you.

Shots keep raining down on your team as you climb up your side of the trail, just as you’re about to yell out and give away your position Tom shouts up, “Since they like me so much let me draw out their fire, Pope, Will, try to flank either sides, make sure there’s not another!”

Deciding you can count on the others to make sure there's not another, you find a good spot to take a shot at the person above you. Looking through your scope and waiting for the shooter to pop out again. Sure enough after the men below you pause their shots to take on their new position a head pops out and you take your shot. Clean hit.

“Got one!” You shout as you look down to where Frankie was following you, to let him know you've got him. Although when you see him, you notice he's lifting his gun in your direction, but you're too late. As you spin back around in the direction Frankie is aiming, time seems to slow down. Above you you see the kid from the village, the one that refused to let Tom through, how did you miss him? He’s wearing a goddamn yellow shirt for Christsake! His gun was aimed in your direction, but you knew it wouldn't be a deadly blow from that position. That should have motivated you to get in position faster, to swing your rifle forward just a bit faster instead of what happened. You later think that you should have tipped just a little bit forward, then the bullet would have hit your vest, a bruise or even a broken rib would have been better than what happened. But you didn’t lean forward and it didn’t hit your vest. Instead you watched as the bullet grazed the outside of your right arm and then you heard the thump behind you. A single shot was heard after and then silence.

“RED! Tom!” The shouts were raw emotion as they clawed their way out of you. You attempt to scramble off the boulder towards the one where Tom was laying out on. Benny got to him first, you had struggled to climb down when your arm was refusing to hold your weight as you made your way towards Tom. Frankie was right behind you.

“Tom! Come on, Tom!’ Benny cried as he pulled Tom into an upright position. But you could tell from the bullet hole, that Tom was gone. You stood there shocked with your left hand grabbing your arm. You hardly felt the blood that was quickly staining your fingers until Will pushed past you to get to Tom and his brother.

Pope reached you next seeing Tom’s body he pulled off his cap and let out a whispered “Fuck’ next to you. You were still in shock. Death was no stranger, your last romantic partner died during one of your raids gone wrong. Yet here you were, still as a statue unable to feel the pain of your own injury as you stared at Tom’s body and the Miller brothers crying over your fallen teammate.

“Lets get him wrapped up we need to keep moving.” Will finally says as he pulls himself back up and directs his words up at you and Pope. You vaguely remember your motor skills and nod your head agreeing with him. It's not safe here, you’re too exposed.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Benny cries from the floor. “You’re a heartless son of a bitch!” He yells at his brother, refusing to let go of Tom’s body.

“It was your little fire that got him fucking killed!” William spits back at his brother, his voice lifting into a shout. After a beat Benny launched himself at his brother, throwing failing punches and pinning him against another boulder.

“Stop this shit, STOP THIS SHIT!” Pope yells as he pulls Benny off his brother with a grunt. His shout as he pushes past you breaks you out of your daze. Pulling yourself together you reach them and insert yourself between the two, using your weight to keep Will from retaliating with any punches now that his brother was successfully pulled away from him.

“Fuck you Benny, FUCK YOU!” Will shouted over your head as you struggled to press your weight against him. Your arm was searing with pain, but you held your ground. You knew you wouldn’t be able to hold him too long and the way you can feel his chest rising you knew he had enough fight left inside him to push you off. Thankfully Frankie reached you in time to pull Will further back. Between the both of you, you managed to get Will to sit down on the rock behind him.

“It wasn’t the fire that gave us away!’ Santiago’s voice carried. “That kid was from the village. He’s been tracking us for days. He obviously wanted a clear shot at Tom. He wanted him.” Pope says emphasizing his point when he pulls you over and points out your wounded arm. “He had a clearer shot of Tweets, but he chose him.” You hiss lightly when your hand comes back up to check on the torn skin. “We do have to get the fuck out of here, and we are taking all that money with us!” Pope points at the duffles, now sitting below you. “Tom’s family deserves it!’ his voice cracks as he says that last bit. “And so do we.” Taking a deep gulp his voice evens out once more, “Alright let's wrap him up. We carry him down.”

Frankie is the first to move and begins pulling Tom’s gun off his body and switching the safety on. You decide that your arm injury can wait while you help. Tom needs to be wrapped up. Once Tom's body has been wrapped and has joined the bags at the bottom of the rocky landscape you sit down on a pile of bags.

"Let me." Frankie holds up a med kit as he kneels next to you.

"Thanks, Cat." you mumble out as he begins to pull out a syringe and gauze, "Wait, use mine." You begin to tap down your pockets noticing that your own med kit was missing. You don't recall using it.

"Umm...I already used it to patch up the cuts you had from the crash." Frankie tells you as he struggles to roll up your sleeve.

"Oh." You didn't even realize your cuts from the landing had been that bad. But then again you weren't exactly conscious for a bit after the rough landing. "Here, wait." You stop Frankie's movements and decide to help him reach your wound by removing your jacket and the shirt. You weren't expecting the look from Pope as you pulled the long sleeve shirt off your right arm, you ignored him, its not like you were stripping off everything, you still had another tank top under.  

"Yeah." Frankie cleared his throat, "That's...easier." His voice came out in that raspy tone of his that made your skin tingle. You couldn't keep your eyes off his hands as they carefully inserted the syringe into your arm. "Sorry." Frankie let out when he saw your skin lift up with gooseflesh.

"It's fine." You almost didn't hear your own words as they slipped past your lips. Your eyes tracing his face now that he was focused on cleaning up your arm and wrapping your arm with the gauze and medical tape. You smile to yourself when you realize his hat has survived the trip. His curls poked out from under his cap, his face had a coat of dirt. The cut on his own face was starting to scab and another angry red scratch was poking out near the collar of jacket. Without thinking you lift your left hand and trace the scratch, "You didn't patch up your..." Your voice trailed off when you realized his eyes were staring back up at you. His soft ministrations on your arm had stopped and you suddenly felt a flush of heat rush up to your face. What were you thinking? You can't just reach out an touch him! "S-Sorry!" you quickly stammer out and pull away from him.

"I-" Frankie's eyes won't leave your face, the heat of embarrassment must be obvious. "It's...It's alright." He finally lets out, in that raspy voice of his. At that point you don't even know if the heat you're sure is radiating through your skin is from embarrassment or from desire.

You don't know if your glad or annoyed at the throat clearing from one of the guys behind you. It manages to break the trance you had fallen into as you stared into Frankie's eyes. Had they always been that soft? Mentally shaking yourself you quickly begin pulling your arm into the sleeve of your shirt, now that Frankie has let go. You're so caught up in buttoning up your shirt you miss the way Pope wags his eyebrows at Frankie as he walks back towards them.

---- As night falls once more you start assessing the amount of days you’ve been on the mountain. The boat waiting for you had been waiting five days, if it was still waiting. Looking down from where you stood you can see a few lights twinkling within the reflection of the ocean.

“How late are we to catch the boat?” Santiago asks you as he meets you after dropping the last of the bags by the pile next to you.

“About five days.”

“Jesus, you think he’s still there?”

“I can’t see shit.” This time it was Will who replied instead of you, his binoculars dropping from his face. Standing up he continues, “We need to get one of us down there. Think one of you can make it? There and back?” he asks the team as you all look over towards the ocean.

“I’ll go” Benny pipes up before anyone else can say anything.

“Your spanish sucks, Benny.”

“I got it.” Benny says as he picks up his gun and checks his ammunition.

“You sure?” Pope asks. “Three?”

“Yeah.” Benny’s determination is evident on his face.

“You’re looking for the Hijo Prodigo” Santiago says as he hands Benny the map the team has been using.

With a nod Benny takes the map and begins walking.

“Benny, watch your six.” You call out after him.

He turns at the sound of your voice. You’ve been relatively quiet since the moment you and Frankie shared. “You watch yours.” He calls back, before continuing his trek down towards the ocean.

With a thud you finally let yourself sit on top of the bags at your feet. Wincing at the sting of the movement you pull the strap of your gun over your shoulder and make yourself comfortable. Benny will be a while might as well catch a bit of sleep, you’re most likely going to be reaching the ocean overnight.

With a huff you hear Santiago behind you, “Alright guess I’ll take first watch.”

You swear you haven’t been asleep more than an hour or two when you’re awoken to Frankie’s voice cutting through the silence.

“I’m going to say something. Are you listening?” His voice held that commanding tone that you knew never to interrupt.

“Yeah.” You hear Santiago reply. Wondering if you woke up halfway through a conversation or if it just started, you didn’t know if you should be listening too.

“We gotta get back on our game. Enough of this. It stops now. You understand?”

“Copy that.” Santiago replies dryly.

So it was a conversation between the two of them. Even so, you felt a bit scolded. It was your fault too that the team was down here. Deciding that Pope shouldn’t have to hold all the blame you pipe up with a, “Yes, Sir.”

Will lets out a soft laugh, and Frankie sighs out a “Good.” before falling silent.

The silence after is cut short by Will’s question, “How many people do you think you’ve killed?”

You furrow your brow, that’s not at all what you expected to hear from Will. It seems that neither did Frankie, because he asked, “What?” in a somewhat surprised tone.

“You heard me.”

“As many as I had to.” Frankie’s voice sounds rough.

“Why would you ever want to know that?” This time it was Pope who asked.

“Forty-three.” Was the unexpected response from Will.

“Jesus Christ!” both you and Frankie exclaim at the same time.

“Confirmed.”

“You keep count of everything, huh?” Pope responds.

“Yup.”

“How’s your sleep?” Frankie asks.

“I guess better than it should be.”

With that hollow answer you get up from where you had been sitting and make your way to Will. Despite everything you’ve seen and been through you can’t help your bleeding heart from making an appearance. Settling back down next to him you whisper. “I’ve got your six. Get some sleep.”

Will looks over at you trying to figure out if you were saying it to hurt him. Whatever he found in your expressive eyes made him lift his hand from his gun and tap your knee twice before returning it to his gun and closing his eyes.

"Seventy-nine." You whisper into the night, you were a good shot and an even better sniper. Remembering that number was going to keep you up tonight.

----

You heard him before you saw him. Gun pulled up and trained in his direction when he finally popped up behind a rock.

“Whoa, it's just me.” Benny made a show to put his hands up in surrender. With a grunt you push down your gun. You’d been on edge throughout your entire shift on watch.“You alright?”

After a brief nod to answer your question Benny debriefs, “The boat’s there. I gave him half the money. I hope he waits.” As he reaches you the others get up. “I didn’t go into town, but it looks like whoever is in charge there has a...kindergarten army that’s looking for us.” He rips off his pack and gun and lets them drop to the floor once he’s in the middle of the circle you had formed with the bags.

“How many of them?” Will asks.

“Two or three pros, 20 heavily armed teenagers.”

“What about the next town over?” Frankie’s voice cracks from disuse.

“It’s over a 100 miles to the south.” Pope replies.

“I’m sure they have every town covered anyway.” Will shakes his head.

“Must be what's left of Lorea’s guys.” You find your voice again, thinking out loud. “Or...It wasn’t just his money we stole.”

“So we go through them.” Pope says his hands on his hips as if saying that's that.

“Through them?”

“What, do you mean we just mow them all down?” Frankie’s tone hints that that is not at all what he would be doing.

“What's the alternative here?” Pope shrugs his hands still firmly set on his hips.

“I’m not prepared to wipe out every teenager in that town.” Will speaks up, “Just to get through with this cargo.” he gestures at the bags stacked around you.

“This cargo?” Santiago points at the bags. “What about that cargo?” he yells as he points towards Tom’s wrapped body. “Would you do it for him?” You knew that tone of voice. You knew where this was going, you tried shaking your head at him but he continued anyways, “Tom died for this money, and we’re not leaving this country without it!”

Benny snapped, “He didn’t die for that money, he died because of it!” Pope turned his back on the group, running his hand over his face and walking a few paces away. Benny turned to the rest of the group, “They are just kids, man. Can’t we just carry it out through the dark?”

“It’s over 100 bags, man. There's no way.” Will tells his brother.

“Let me talk to him.” You finally found your voice again.

Without waiting for them to answer you, you trudge up towards Pope. Stopping when you can reach out and place your hand on his elbow. “Benny says these are kids, Santi.”

With a few quick shakes of his head Pope looks at you, “I can’t believe...I can’t believe I let this happen.” he struggles to find his words.

“We did.” you remind him squeezing his elbow, “The team came down to support us because we asked them to.” You fight down the little voice inside your head that sets the blame of Tom’s death on you, this was about Santi not you, you can deal with your own guilt later. Right now you had to get the surviving members of the team out of here. You know you won’t be able to handle it if another one of them...

“Yeah… Yeah but I thought- I thought we could do this!”

“Yeah. We both did.” You look down at your shoes to blink away your emotions, “And we got what we deserved.” With a deep breath you force yourself to look up at him. “Santi, we did some awful shit down here when it was just you and I. But we kept telling ourselves it was okay because the end justified the means. Yet, here we are hauling our brother’s body out of the fucking mountains.” Your voice cracks at the mention of Tom. “Santi, we have to get everyone else out, we won’t be able to live with ourselves if we risk another life for this dirty money.” You give his elbow another squeeze when he doesn’t answer right away.

“Yeah...Yeah your right.” Pope looks at you for a second, and just as you start turning on your heel to rejoin the group he stops you. “Just in case…”

“No.”

“No, really.” This time he's the one squeezing your arm, letting you know he won’t let go until he says his piece, “He’s been in love with you for much longer than you have been with him.” You look at Pope with wide eyes, knowing exactly who he was talking about but needing more information. Thankfully he keeps going, “Vanessa left before their one year anniversary, he wasn’t very forthcoming with why, just that she was gone. I know you hate my meddling when it comes to these things, but he’s still in love with you. Don’t let him get away this time.”

With that Pope turns and walks towards the others and you can hear him talking to the group again. But you're frozen in that position. Your hand was still in the air from when it was sitting on Pope’s elbow. A million questions were flying through your head, but most of all you were struck with the one thought that you had to get the fuck out of here before you could begin to ask any of those questions. Dropping your hand you turn to rejoin the group.

“We just have to get Tom home.” Will was saying when you joined them. Benny gave you an odd look, but you just shook your head at him as if your heart wasn’t just singing with hope, as Will finished with, “that’s all that matters.”

“How are we gonna do that?”

“We keep carrying him down.” You find your voice in time to contribute with the conversation at hand, even if your thoughts are chaos within your skull.

“I agree with Tweets.” Pope piped up, “We fill our day packs with...With whatever we can carry and that's it.”

“What do we do with the rest of it?” Benny asks once more.

------

“Put him down for a second.” You hear one of the boys say behind you when you put your fist up in the air. Your gun is pulled up in position. Due to the wound on your arm you’ve been point guard, your gun held steady in front of you, making sure to clear a path towards the ocean as the others carried Tom’s body behind you. Benny left the group about thirty minutes prior, to make sure the boat didn’t take off without the team, once the horizon began to turn pink with the rising sun.

You hear Frankie whisper your name in that raspy tone that made your tummy flip then, “What is it?” as he joins you with his gun also pulled up into position. You motion in the direction of the truck you noticed peeking out of the tall grass.

With a nod, he begins to creep forward. Your height helps hide you within the grass, one of your advantages as point guard, but Frankie was almost a head taller and when he stepped closer to the truck the lights turned on, momentarily blinding you, “Fuck!” you let out a curse as you crouch lower and grip your gun a bit tighter.

“Stop!”

“Manos Arriba!” [Hands up!]

“Wait, espera espera espera!” [Wait, wait, wait!] you hear Santiago’s voice towards the side of the truck, While you and Frankie had gone towards the front of the truck Pope had flanked behind it. Catching the teenager, with a rifle that looked too at home in his skinny arms, off guard. “Oye, Hermanito, ¡ten cuidado con esa arma! No me apunte.” [Hey, man. Careful with that gun, don’t point it at me!] Pope lowered his pistol as he began to talk to the kid.

Your finger on the trigger is twitching at the way the kid is gripping the rifle. Any other day you wouldn’t hesitate to do the same as Pope, but you’ve lost too much already, your heart feels like it might fall out of your butt any minute, and you keep your scope on the kid in front of you. Out of the corner of your eye you see Frankie making his way towards the drivers side of the truck.

“I speak english!” The kid yells, “What’s in the bag? What is that?” he gestures towards Tom’s body with his gun.

“That’s our friend” Will’s voice is just a bit to your left. Your focus is still on the gun the kid keeps failing about in the air. “He’s dead.”

“I call Boss” The kid says, you can see the fear in his eyes as the team continues to take small steps closer to him.

“No, No, ¡No hagas eso!” [Don’t do that!] You yell out at the kid, aiming the scope on your gun towards the kid’s leg. The kid looks in your direction, it seems your voice took him by surprise, not expecting a woman behind the automatic weapon that was trained on him. “Contigo no tenemos ningún problema. Right guys?” [I have no problem with you.]

“No problem.” Will answers, as Pope gets closer his open palms facing the kid, too close for your comfort. Your finger leaving the trigger guard and getting dangerously close to the trigger once more.

“I’m taking the shot.” You hear the words leave you, but you’ve closed off the part of you that would have done what Pope is doing. The instinct to survive taking over. Frankie looks at you from his position to your right and gives you a miniscule nod.

“NO!” Pope shouts one of his palms facing you this time. “No, don’t do that!”

You let out a frustrated groan, your finger lightly squeezing your trigger, not enough to release a bullet, but you know if the kid makes one abrupt movement he’ll drop. Thankfully you don’t have to. With a swift push, Pope knocks the gun out of the kid’s hand. However you were so focused on the gun that you didn’t notice the finger the kid was pushing down on the walkie until he shouted, “Habla 16! 16 necesito ayuda!” [This is 16, I need backup!] as the force of Pope’s push made him hit the ground.

“Pendejo!” [Asshole!] You growl out at the kid, as Pope pulls him up to his feet and pins him down against the hood of the truck.

“¿Dónde están las llaves?” [Where are the keys?] Frankie grunts out as he lowers his gun and begins to rifle through the cab of the truck.

“No se, me dejaron solamente con el coche y el radio.” [I don’t know, they just left me with the truck and the radio!] The kid struggles to breathe as Pope keeps his arm around the kid’s throat.

“FUCK!” You hear Frankie’s frustrated yell inside the cab.

“Seguro?” [You sure?] Pope asks the kid as he and William begin to zip tie the kid’s hands and feet together.

“16, 16 estás ahí?” [16, 16 are you there?] The walkie on the floor lets out.

With a huff you kick the radio into the grass and walk over to Tom’s body hauling his torso up you begin dragging him closer to the truck. Feeling the weight lift considerably once Will reaches you and helps you haul him into the bed of the truck. Just as Frankie managed to get the engine running.

“Yes! Fuck Yes!’ Pope slaps his hands against the hood of the car, as you jump into the flatbed and take a position behind Frankie. “Lets move lets get outta here!” Pope shouts at no one in particular seeing as he was the only one, other than the kid, not in the truck.

“Shit his radio!” You tell the guys realizing your mistake you jump out of the flatbed and retrieve the radio, from where it was in the grass.

“Un consejo,” [A piece of advice.] Santiago's voice drifts up from where you grab the radio, “Alejate de esos hombres.” [Get away from those men.]

“Did you just give the kid money?” You ask him, almost angry that Pope was being so reckless when you’re in hot water.

“Let’s move!” Frankie’s voice cuts through the tension between you and Pope, “Vamos! Los dos!” [Go, both of you.]

Rushing back to the truck you hop back into position behind Frankie and Pope takes the seat next to him as the truck jerks into gear. You grab onto the bar above you as the unforgiving dunes force you and Will to bounce within the back.

“Did you just give that fucking kid money?” Frankie berates Pope as soon as the truck you're in begins moving towards the ocean with more speed. “We should have killed the kid the minute he saw our faces.”

“We are not killing anymore people!”

“I’m telling you right now if we get to that beach and Ben isn’t there. I’m fucking killing people!”

“He’ll be there, alright!” Will cuts off the arguing that is going on within the cab of the truck.

“Fuck!” You yell out as a truck collides with the one your in.

“Tweets! The fuck you waiting for!” You hear Frankie yell at you when he pulls the truck back into a straight line.

You answer him with a squeeze of your trigger, your shots hitting their mark into the cab of the truck that was trying to collide with you again. “Drive, Fish!” you spit out as the truck following you stops moving, and another comes towards you.

“¡Miren, nos pegaron! Cuidado se van para la playa!” [Look they hit us! They are headed towards the beach!] The voices coming from the radio you have clipped on your belt.

“Oh, shit!”

“GO, GO, GO!” Will’s shout competes with the sound of the gear shifting. “What are they saying?”

“More are coming.” You notice that he’s out of rounds, handing him the pistol you have strapped to your thigh Will takes it and aims at the new jeep that spun around and began to chase you. “There’s two vehicles!” You shout behind you into the cabin as you train your gun at the one gaining on your right. Will was shooting at the one to your left.

“Alright, it should open up onto the beach any minute.” Pope says as he flashes a light on the map.

“Tweets, Shoot!” Frankie yells as you see the truck full of kids gaining on you. “Shoot the driver! I know you can! Take the fucking shot!”

With a deep breath you squeeze your trigger once more, but this time you're aiming at the front tire, deciding Pope is right. After looking at those kids, you know you won’t be able to sleep for a while if you mow them all down.

“Despacio que nos están disparando!” [Slow down they are shooting at us!] The voices on the radio keep shouting orders to the trucks behind you, urging them to slow down, but keep you within sight. “Quedense atras!” [Fall back!] Fruitless really, you hit your mark and watch as one of them spins out into the grass the second vehicle stopping.

“Nice!” Will gives you a grin when he realizes that it was your shot that spun out the truck.

“Eyes up!” Two more trucks meet you. However, these two begin shooting at you and before you can reciprocate fire, Frankie starts swerving through the grass to avoid being hit.

“Where are they?”

“Left! Left!”

Just as Will’s shout makes you turn your body, you feel the impact of the truck as Frankie slams into its side. Without taking proper aim you let out a few shots and watch as the truck flips over and a burst of fire lifts from the cab.

“Watch out!” Pope shouts as the other truck begins raining fire in your direction.

“All right here’s the beach!” Will’s deep voice reaches your ears, a small bud of hope blossoms in your chest. We just need to get to the beach.

“Where is he? Do you see him?” You shout your heart thumping hard against your chest as you keep your gun trained on the truck that has fallen a bit behind you.

“No, but the cove where we have to meet him is about a mile up this beach!” Pope yells.

You’re panicking once more, a mile? The truck that was behind you disappeared when it swerved behind a dune. Leaving you and Will searching the beach. The sound of an engine revving makes you point your gun at a dune to your left and you see the truck pop up closer to you than you expected. A woman in the back gave you an awful smile before shooting at you with a small handgun.

“Fuck!” You squeeze your trigger but your shots miss as Frankie swerves once more, her shots dangerously close to your head.

“Tweets! Kill them! Just kill them!” Frankie’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts of a close call, determined not to add to your numbers, you to take careful aim of the tires once more. They are just kids, you remind yourself even though those last few shots could have been fatal had Fish not swerved.

Will shouts “There he is!” somewhere to your left, but you’re focused on your targets. First you hit the tire on the driver’s side of the truck and then you hit the exposed radiator. Making the truck come to a complete stop. With a sigh you twist around and look over towards the beach where you see Benny waving from a small boat.

“Over the dune!” Pope shouts, as the truck catches air and Frankie drives it into the water. The water quickly fills up the cabin as Fish and Pope jump out. You shove your gun down as you begin to wade through the water and help Will with Tom’s body.

“Here.” Frankie’s rough voice reaches your ears as you swim towards him. He helps you haul Tom’s body onto the boat, and then gives you a push as you throw one leg over the side and pull yourself up as well.

You still hear the gunshots the teenagers are shooting, but Frankie had pulled you under him as the boat sped away, shielding you from harm with his own body.

"Cat" You mumble against his arm, "Fish its okay." You try again when his arms won't release you.

"Right. Sorry." He straightens out, he was about to scoot a bit away from you on the small bench when you grab on to his hand and give it a tug. Without thinking too much about it because you know that if you did you'll chicken out, you reach up with your other hand and pull him back.

"Tweets-" You don't really know what he was about to say because with help from the bumpy waves you're propelled forward and your lips bang against his.

Before you could pull away and apologize for the horribly aimed kiss, Frankie has wrapped both arms around you once more, this time though he pulled you on to his lap. One of his arms, wound tight around your waist held you firmly on his lap, while the other snaked up your back allowing his hand to hold the back of your head to tangle his fingers in your hair. His lips were surprisingly soft, with a slow drag of his tongue against your lower lip you opened your own and let him explore you in a way you had fantasied about for years. Distantly you could hear a muttered "Finally" and a whoop that let you know the guys had looked back and seen the two of you. But you were totally lost in the feel of Frankie's lips, the taste of salt as your tongues tasted each other.  

When you finally broke the kiss to breathe, Frankie spoke, "I've waited years for this." His panting breaths tickling your lips, the hand on your neck keeping you close enough that your lips are still brushing against each other, "If you'd have me, I'm yours."

Taking in a gulp of air you brush your lips against his, "And I'm yours."

----

You stared up at the colorful buildings surrounding you as you waited outside of the bank with Will, Benny and Frankie. Your hand is wrapped around Frankie's hands his arms wrapped around you as his chin rests on the top of your head.

“Where to then?” Pope’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“We need to get home.” Will speaks for both himself and his brother.

“You’ll need these.” Pope hands them their passports. You don’t miss the way he holds on to yours and Frankie's as they pat him on the back and leave.

You look expectantly at him when he finally turns around and looks at you and Frankie. A smile breaks out on his face as he takes you both in, standing there like a pair of love sick fools.

“So, are you finally heading home?” Frankie’s question is directed at Pope.

“I...I have a friend in Sydney.” That makes you break out into a smile. You didn't think Pope was really going to find her, not after everything.

“Heard she just came into some money.” You wink at him.

“Yeah, I heard the same rumor.” He reaches out and gives Frankie both your passports but doesn't let them go once Frankie has a grip on them, “Ahora te toca cuidarla.”[It's your turn to take care of her.]

Frankie gives Pope a smile, his eyes crinkling, “Creo que ella me cuidara a mi.” [I think she'll be the one taking care of me]

You feel the way Frankie's arms squeeze you just a bit tighter. As Pope meets your eyes, "Acuerdate lo que te dije." [remember what I told you.]

"Oh, I'm not about to let him get away this time." You say as you give Frankie's arms a slight squeeze, letting him know to let you go so you can give Pope a parting hug.  

“Have fun getting home you two.” Pope says over your head as you pull away from his hug and Frankie reaches over to give him one as well.

“Wait ¡No te vayas tan rápido!” [Not so fast!] You place a hand on his arm to stop hims from leaving as you dig through the bag that's slung over your shoulder, with the other. “Tell Yovanna que le mando saludos.” [I say hi] You slip a piece of paper with coordinates into his palm as you quickly push yourself up on your toes to place a kiss on his cheek. “And thank you, Santi, for everything.” With one last smile, you pull away from him and pull Frankie along with you as you both disappear into the crowded street away from Pope.

“So dinner?” You ask the man you adore.

“Yeah. Yeah dinner sounds good.” Frankie gives you a lopsided grin as you take both your passports from his hand and shove them into your bag.

"Although, I don't mind a few more hours in that hotel room." Frankie's low and raspy voice reaches your ear, his lips brushing it slightly. Your entire body responds to his voice. The sensation of his lips against your skin have you heating up.

"Francisco!" You gasp in mock shock, "How fast do you think we can get there?"

[fictionxo]

Catfished - Bloo (M)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Overstimulation

Word Count: 2,188

Synopsis: You accidently meet the man you've been talking to on a dating app, only to find out he had his pictures taken and used without his knowledge.

(A/N: I got the prompt from yoonohprompts and here is the prompt I used! :D Came across it and it was too good not to write! But since I already have a Jaehyun story coming, I changed the character! Please enjoy! Also for future Mkit Rain scenarios, I NO LONGER write for Owen because, just because.

P.S: Gif is mine 💕 Please read even if you don't know Bloo! I really like this one! You can imagine whoever instead! ^^ Feedback is ALSO welcomed!)

~~~

You briefly glance up at the dark sky as another puff of smoke leaves his mouth, this time with a little annoyance behind it as his eyes scan the large smart phone, again, sifting through the many pictures of himself. Seeing him in person though, he looks more like a bad boy than on his pictures. Much more, hardened, in person.

"Listen sweets," he hands your phone back to you, "Those pictures are me. But I'm not on that tinder shit. That profile is fake."

A smoke filled chuckle brushes past his plump lips as he flicks the shortened cigarette to the ground, before pulling out another clean and untouched cigarette from behind his ear, and lighting it behind the cover of one of his hands.

"This...really isn't you..? I've been talking to some fake man who stole your pictures..?"

He stands, ignoring your baffled expression and raises his brows lightly at you. The boy you've been talking to for the past three months, is not the boy you've been talking to the past three months. A heavy feeling settles in your chest as you stare up at the familiar, yet unfamiliar face.

He turns, walking away from you as if this whole situation doesn't faze him. You stare back at your phone, at the false account before heading to the 'settings' menu, and pressing the large red 'delete account' button. After confirming, the app gives you a generic goodbye message, as generic as the fake account.

There you stand, staring at the ground, baffled at how much time and energy you put into the fake person. In short, you feel simply defeated. Finding love has always been hard for you, and right when you think you've found the right guy, he's not who he says he is. But hey, be careful who you meet online right?

"Hey."

You glance up at the demanding voice, to be greeted by the boy who just walked away. You stare absentmindedly at his annoyed expression, watching it soften oh so slightly at your tired eyes.

"Look. It's fucked up you were strung along by someone pretending to be me. I feel a little bad about it." He releases a final puff of smoke, pinching the lit end of the cigarette with his fingertips to extinguish it.

"Let me walk you home at least. It's late, and only creeps are out now."

You ponder his offer, wondering why he didn't just leave when he had the chance. It's not like he owes you anything for someone else taking his pictures.

Either way, you smile pathetically, still saddened by what happened, and agree to let him walk you home. A little company from an attractive, yet slightly thuggish looking man can't be all that bad.

The walk is quiet and a little awkward, as you suspected it would be. But thankfully he breaks the silence.

"I'm Daniel by the way. But call me Bloo."

"Bloo? Like the color? Interesting." You chuckle a little.

You introduce yourself in return and he nods, whispering your name, more to himself so he doesn't forget. Bloo asks you to tell him more about the fake profile, and what you and the person talked about usually. As you tell him, he laughs deeply at a few things, responding with "I'd never say that!"

The entire walk is spent with talk about your interactions with the fake Bloo, and what the real Bloo would have said in certain situations. In short you've learned the real Bloo to be a bit of a cocky asshole who has been in far too many fights, and someone who has a love for Hennessy. The conversation ends with you saying you found the fake very attractive, and how his personality was perfect. To which Bloo responds;

"Thanks. I know I'm attractive. As for the personality, fake Bloo has me beat baby." Before laughing it off. A sound you've already grown fond of.

"We're here." You state, walking up to the door of your apartment.

"Alright sweets, it's been-"

"Do you want to come in?" You blurt out a little faster than your brain could comprehend.

You panic slightly at your sudden confidence and unlock the door, pushing it open and briskly walking in before he could answer.

You head to your small kitchen and aggressively toss your things on the dining table. The front door closes and you hear it lock seconds after, the sound itself making your heart race. Refusing to turn and face him just yet thanks to your nerves, you open your fridge quickly and grab two water bottles.

Turning to face him, you see him scanning your home with a small smirk on his face before he focuses back on you. With an outstretched hand, Bloo takes the water bottle from you, thanking you as you lean against the counter, but adding in a funny remark about how he'd be happier if it was alchohol. Another awkward silence.

You take this time to stare him down while his eyes scan your place again. He's wearing black skinny jeans, dark blue expensive looking shoes, a grey shirt under a jean jacket matching his shoes. His hair is pushed back, with sunglasses sitting atop his head. His fingers are littered with silver rings of varying sizes, and you take notice of a cross styled tattoo on his left hand.

Bloo bites the silver piercing in his lower lip, causing your eyes to travel back to his face. You meet his mischievous gaze in return.

"You know, my eyes are up here. Though if you want to see it, I can always just show you." He chuckles, briefly motioning to his crotch.

An involuntary laugh leaves your lips, earning an eyebrow raise from Bloo.

"You wouldn't dare!" You choke out between giggles, sure he wouldn't flash some stranger.

To your dismay, or pleasure, Bloo scoffs and immediately tosses his jacket to the floor, lifts up his shirt a bit, and starts to undo his belt buckle in a haste to prove you wrong. Little mutters fall from his lips such as; "She thinks I won't?" "I'll show her," while he struggles to undo his pants.

"I was kidding!!" You spin around immediately, face flushed, and heart beating, with sweaty palms gripping the counter for support.

You'd be a lie if you said the idea of, seeing him, didn't spark a flame in your stomach. Bloo is a very attractive man by your standards, and you've always had a thing for bad boys. Plus, it's been a while since you've last had sex, so the idea seems even more inviting.

Bloo's hands snake past your waist, and grip the counter, trapping you against his firm body.

"You know, if you don't want to see it," his husky voice sounds against your neck. "You can always feel it."

Bloo presses his now erected penis into your back side, grinding upwards just a little.

"If you tell me to stop, I will. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a woman abuser. No need to be when I'm a stud."

His cocky nature would turn you off, if you weren't so damn turned on. Without thinking, you press your ass against his cock, moaning quietly at the aching feeling between your legs.

Taking that as a yes, Bloo pins your upper body down against the counter, with your cheek resting on the cool surface. You hear his pants hit the floor, before his hands roughly grip your pants and yank them down along with your panties.

Bloo takes hold of the back of your neck, securing you against the counter as he brings his free hand to your lips.

"Open." He commands.

You do as your told, taking in a few of Bloo's fingers.

"Suck." The dominance in his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

After giving you a few seconds to suck on his fingers, he pulls them free from your lips and quickly uses his spit coated fingers to rub your pussy fully.

"You're already so wet for me. What a horny girl." A breathy chuckle passes his lips as he removes his fingers.

Bloo gives himself a few good strokes before pressing the tip of his cock to your entrance. He pushes himself in slowly, stretching you completely to fit around his thickness.

"F-fuck.." You whisper out, nails scratching at the slick counter.

With a snap of his hips, he shoves into you fully, letting out a coarse moan.

"So fucking tight..how long has it been for you babe?"

"Too..fucking..long.." You gasp out, trying to adjust to his cock.

"Well, if you want someone soft, you can find a nerd. I fuck to fuck baby girl. I fuck hard."

Before you can respond, he pulls out almost all the way and snaps back into you. A light scream leaves your mouth as Bloo picks up the pace.

His grip on your neck tightens, while his free hand pushes your shirt up more before holding your hip for support.

His cock reaches deep inside of you, an uncomfortable feeling, but most welcome. With his faster pace, your pelvis starts banging against the counters edge.

"Ahh Bloo! I- fuck!"

A whine escapes your lips before moans pour out like a mantra. The sound of skin smacking skin, and loud squelch sounds from your juices soaking his cock, fill the entire room.

Bloo raises the hand from your hip, and smacks it down hard against your ass cheek, making it ripple at the impact. Your body lurches backwards from instinct, pressing harder onto his pulsing cock as a scream leaves your mouth.

"I fucking love hearing your cries pretty girl."

Bloo removes the hand pining your head down, and pulls your body upwards against his. You reach behind you and grip his upper thigh for support.

Bloo fucks upwards into you, this new position hitting you deeper than you could imagine. But within seconds, Bloo pulls out of you abruptly and you feel his stickiness hit your bare ass, followed by your name slipping off his tongue like a forbidden word.

You turn breathlessly to face him. Right as you do, Bloo pulls his shirt above his head and tosses it to the side before he pushes you against the counter once again, getting on his knees and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. You take a quick note of the tattoos littering his upper body, especially a moon tattoo on his chest.

His tongue darts out against your wetness. A new wave of sensation washes over you and one of your hands fly to his hair, gripping it tightly while he fucks you with his tongue. He licks straight from the bottom to the top a few times before swirling his tongue in circles around your labia, avoiding your clit. He drags his tongue down, and presses it roughly inside of you before repeating his movements.

"Bloo..ah fuck! Fuck..so good!"

Your words come out broken, while you start to shake and attempt to close your legs around his head, prompting Bloo to take it to the next level by wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking like his life depends on it. That within itself sends you overboard, cumming on his magical tongue with his real name flying out of your mouth.

Refusing to stop there, Bloo continues his assault on your sensitive clit despite your pushing against his head and the many cries of overstimulation falling from your lips. The sound of him sucking almost outdoes your cries.

"P-please! Daniel I- I can't!"

A tear rolls down your cheek from the overwhelming please and he finally stops, smirking at you as you side down the counter, butt hitting the cold floor and your cum dripping out of you.

Bloo let's you catch your breath, smiling while he watches your body spasm every few seconds. To his surprise, you're the first one to speak;

"You're so fucking good. Now I see why you're so cocky.."

"Exactly. Who wouldn't be cocky when they're as good as me in bed." A loud laugh sounds from him, making you laugh with him.

A peaceful silence falls between you two. Your eyes stay connected as you both smile at one anothers fucked out states.

"Your tattoos are pretty Bloo." You say, scanning his upper body.

He only glances at the ones on his arm before nodding in agreement.

"Hey, if you let me stay the night, and then let me take you out to lunch tomorrow, I'll tell you all about my tatts." He smirks at you, so full of himself.

You scoff at him before rolling your eyes. Right as you prepare to answer he speaks up;

"Then we can go to my place and after you meet my cat, I'll eat you out again."

"Deal!" You chime.

"Desperate for me already huh? I might be the worst thing for you pretty girl."

He leans forward and places a chaste kiss to your lips.

"And I might be the best thing for you, pretty boy."

"Somehow, I don't doubt that (y/n)."

[letsgetscrewed123]

Happy Rules Headcanons

.After all that shit with Nate, Rue tries to keep Jules safe from him so to speak. She watches out for him, makes sure to distract Jules whenever he's around.

. Jules likes watching Rue sleep, well actually no she doesn't not since that night she thought Rue was gonna die from fentanyl. She should say she likes watching Rue rest. After a while she found new ways to relax, ways that weren't dangerous or life threatening. Sometimes Rue would read and sometimes she would just sit on the couch and breathe. Deep, slow breathes, take a moment out of her day to do absolutely nothing, sometimes she watches trash t.v and Jules will sit with her. They get wrapped up in stupid scandals and laugh at all the fights. Other times she would call a friend (Ali) and go have pancakes. Jules likes to watch Rue read, mostly comic books so she doesn't have to do to much work, watch her get swept up into a world that isn't her own, where there is always a solution in the end, eyes bouncing around the page, taking in the swirl of colors. It's kinda like going on a "trip". Her face changes into expressions of surprise, shock and awe ...sometimes she has to put the book down and process some shit, Jules brings her tea and doesnt envade her space, she just watches her from afar. Makes sure she's eating and staying hydrated.

.Jules likes the way that Rue gets close. Touches her all the time, leans on her, or holds her hand, throws an arm around her shoulder while they're walking, like she just absolutely has to be near her. She loves her so publicly and it's a nice change from what she's used to, parked cars and back alleys and motel rooms. Rue kisses her in public, boldly and proudly and sweetly, walks her to class, shows her off like she's the best thing that she's ever had. Rue shows her how much she loves her.

.Rue also tells her and coming from her Jules knows it's not just talk. It's not just her saying shit to get in her pants, or lure her into false confidence, its fucking real. Rue will get this look in her eyes or she'll get that crooked smile on her lips and she'll say something so simple but it'll be so sincere and so honest that it fills her up with something indescribable. Its heartwarming. It aches how much she loves her.

. Jules may not like watching Rue sleep but she does like sleeping with her. Likes being wrapped up in her arms, being wrapped up in her warmth. She likes feeling the slow rise and fall of her chest. Hearing her heart beat. She let's it lull her to sleep.

. Rue still gets flustered around Jules. When she flirts and teases her, it takes her back to that time when she asked her to help her take nudes. There is just something about Jules that gets her everytime, catches her off gaurd, throws her off her game, game that she never really had in the first place.

. Jules likes to borrow Rue's clothes. It's not what she'd usually wear but they smell like Rue and they're super comfortable. She especially likes to wear Rue's oversized t-shirts when she sleeps. She kinda stole the one Rue gave her the night of the whole Tyler being Nate catfish debacle.

. One time Rue drapes her jacket over Jules cause it's cold out. It makes her heart beat faster and Jules legit blushes. Its such a small gesture but it makes her feel so loved.

. Jules has never had so much control in a relationship, but this time she does and she gets kind of addicted to it, being an equal where once she was seen as less than, she likes the fact that Rue listens to her and takes her comfort into account.

.They wait a little while to have sex for obvious reasons. Rue doesn't want Jules to think thats all she wants her for, all she wants from her. Doesn't want to be like all the rest of the people Jules has been with. She cares about her pleasure, her comfortability. Rue also doesn't want to mess it up, Also they have a little bit to figure out given that Rue's previous sexual encounters are subpar to say the least, abysmal if we're being honest. Rue reads articles by trans women, asks Jules how she would like to be touched. When they finally do have sex Rue makes love to Jules, she's gentle and soft, she doesn't hold her body into place or pin her wrists down, she interlaces their fingers and coaxes out what Jules thinks might be her first ever orgasm given to her by someone who loves her. Jules cries and Rue freaks out a little until she explains the situation, and then she just holds her. They stay like that for the rest of the night.

Tbc...maybe