#Frankie Morales x oc

[ilovepedro]

birthday girl | frankie morales x plus size latina reader

Main masterlist

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~3.5k

Summary: It’s your birthday, and Frankie celebrates his favorite girl.

Warnings: established relationship, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all!!!), oral (f receiving), fluff, pet names (princesa, bebita, querida, hermosa, baby, etc), Frankie being in love, slightest hint of insecure reader, reader is female, reader is plus sized, reader is Latina, but no mention of hair type/skin color/height, reader understands Spanish, NO USE OF Y/N, translations available at the end.

A/N: it’s my birthday meaning this is completely 100% self-indulgent lol no other reason behind this. i wrote it with me (a plus size latina) in mind, but i hope you can still find relatability in it! y’all know Frankie is one of my favorite P boys, and i’ve been thinking about him a lot lately. shoutout to @mandoisapunk for hyping me up to post this one ilysm <333 anyway, happy frankie friday!! i hope y’all enjoy!! i’m off to pamper myself, then get plastered at the club 🪩💃 this was written very quickly. not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Daylight peeks through the blinds, bleeding through the curtains. A gloomy morning, typical around this time of year. Stirring in the sheets, you feel around for your boyfriend. Instead, you’re met with cold sheets on his unmade side of the bed.

He must’ve been up a while ago.

You swipe your phone from your nightstand, catching a glimpse at the time while unlocking it.

10am. He’s definitely been up for a while.

Frankie is an early riser, waking with the sun. While you prefer to sleep in as much as you can, being a night owl and borderline insomniac.

Rubbing your eyes, you scroll and respond to the birthday texts you received throughout your sleep. A few missed calls, you make note to call them back later.

Sitting up, you stretch and let out a yawn. The urge to crawl back under the covers grows strong as the chilly air hits your skin. Just as you’re about to get out of bed, you hear those unmistakable footsteps.

The door gently swings open, there stands your Frankie - beaming with a tray in hand.

“Happy birthday, hermosa,” he says through his dopey grin as he walks towards the bed, balancing your breakfast. You let out a soft hum, touched by the sweet gesture.

“Babyyy, you didn’t.”

“But I did. And I don’t want to hear any complaints, it’s your day, let me spoil you.”

“But you always sp-,”

“Ah ah! Let me spoil you, bebita. It’s what you deserve. I even made your favorite,” he says, setting the tray down in front of you. A tiny gasp bubbles over your lips.

“Frankieeee,” you whine, bottom lip jutted out as tears well in your eyes.

It’s a simple meal, nothing extravagant, but not one you make too often with how time consuming it can be. Your favorite childhood breakfast - chorizo con huevo y frijoles and homemade tortillas - one your abuelita would cook on the mornings you went to her house as a little girl.

You’d told him about it one morning when he found you downstairs making tortillas from scratch to go with breakfast. A labor of love from both of you, as you taught him the same way your abuelita had shown you - a way to honor her legacy.

He remembered.

“You remembered,” you whisper, voice wobbly as you’re overwhelmed with the simple, sweet gesture. Glossy eyes meeting his soft gaze.

“Of course, baby. I remember everything you tell me,” he says, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your head.

“How did you make the tortillas?” you ask.

He chuckles, sitting down beside you.

“I told you, I remember everything you tell me,” he says while fishing out a crumpled up index card and placing it in your hands. It’s got all your abuelita’s instructions, measurements, and ingredients scribbled on it in his chicken scratch.

He’d written everything down.

“Wrote it all down after that morning. It took some trial and error, and they’re nowhere near as perfect as yours and your abuelita’s, but…”

“I- Frankie…” you sigh, tears pricking your eyes as you’re nearly rendered speechless. Cupping his face softly in one hand.

“This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. Thank you,” you sniff, a stray tear cascading down your cheek as you smile at him through watery eyes.

He swipes his thumb on your cheek, wiping away your tear.

“Of course, baby.”

You capture his lips in a languid, sweet kiss. Sighing into each other as you wrap a hand around his neck, carding your fingers through his hair. Frankie cupping the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

Parting for air, he rests his forehead against yours - toothy grins adorning your faces.

“Come on, princesa. Eat before it gets cold.”

The two of you share breakfast in bed before getting ready for the day.

Frankie spends the rest of the day spoiling you - taking you to a surprise nail appointment he’d booked. He’d headed home unbeknownst to you, setting up something else.

He picked you up, and the two of you landed in Barnes & Noble. Letting you go rampant, Frankie bought every book you wanted. He’d tucked them away safely in his trunk, reminding himself to take them out in the morning. You’d both decided to grab some dinner before heading out to the bars with some friends.

The bars are loud, particularly this karaoke bar. Although he despises karaoke, his love for you trumps his disdain. Seeing you sing your heart out on stage with your friends - the people who always show up for you - makes his heart swell. Your happiness is his.

Frankie nurses a glass of whiskey the entire night, allowing you to have your fun with everyone. He can sense your exhaustion, your telltale yawn is his silent cue that it’s time to call it a night.

Bidding everyone good night, you and Frankie walk hand-in-hand to his truck. Heading home after a day well spent. Giddiness radiating from both of you on the drive home, excited to finally have some privacy.

You two could barely keep your hands off each other the second you stepped out of the truck. Both of you stumble into the house, giggling through the tender kisses. Frankie tosses the truck keys onto the table in the foyer and flicks on the lamp before cupping your face again. Both of you refuse to part for air as he attempts to stealthily guide you into the living room.

Something brushes against your head, making you break away and whip your head around. A soft gasp is punched from your lungs, your eyes glimmering at the sight in front of you.

Balloons hang throughout the living room leading into the kitchen as a bouquet of flowers sits on the coffee table. Frankie grabs your hand, pulling you out of your trance, weaving through the trail of balloons as he leads you into the kitchen. Tears well in your eyes at the gesture. A small cake in your favorite color sits on the table, next to a card and another vase of flowers - tulips specifically, your favorite flowers.

He fishes for a lighter in his pocket, showing you how prepared he was for this moment. Lighting the candles, he pulls you into his embrace, your back flushed against his chest.

“Surprise, princesa,” he whispers. A watery chuckle bubbles from within your chest, sniffling while he softly sings his own rendition of ‘happy birthday’ in your ear as he sways you side to side. The glow from the candles illuminating the blinding smile on your face.

“Make a wish, birthday girl,” he whispers, placing a tender kiss to the shell of your ear.

You close your eyes, wishing for this love, this life with him for eternity. Leaning forward slightly, you blow out the candles before falling back into Frankie’s arms. He gives you a gentle squeeze before turning you around to face him.

Gently kissing you, you yelp in surprise when he swipes frosting on your nose.

“Couldn’t resist, sorry, bebita. Que le muerda,” he says with a wink. Playfully scolding him, you reach behind you to scoop frosting on your fingers and smear it on his cheek.

Frankie smirks, “Oh you think that’s funny?” You nod, snickering as you lick your fingers. He reaches for the cake, gathering more frosting on his fingers. Smearing it all along your lips and chin, you burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Normally, you hate the tradition of taking a bite of the cake - it usually leads to having your whole face smashed into it, makeup ruined. But with Frankie, it’s not done with malice, not done to embarass you. It’s playful, fun - like the life you’ve built with each other.

Before you can retaliate, Frankie swoops in and slots your lips together. The sugar from the frosting combined with the glass of whiskey he had at the bar makes for a full-bodied kiss. Giggling like a pair of school kids, you and Frankie clean each other up with some paper towels.

"You missed a spot, bebita," he says, gesturing to the bottom of your lip.

"Oh!" You swipe your lip. "Did I get it?"

He grins. "Almost. Let me help you, hermosa," he says before crashing his lips onto yours.

Shared laughter resumes as he guides you into the living room, never letting your lips part. He accidentally bumps into the coffee table as he moves onto the couch. He smiles into the kiss as you laugh at his clumsiness. He plops down, grabbing your hips and tugging you onto his lap.

His large, rough hands squeezing your plush thighs before giving your ass a firm squeeze. Eliciting a surprised hum from you, you part from him with heavy eyes and a dopey smile. Frankie mirroring your expression.

“You have a good day today, baby?” He asks softly, timidly awaiting your answer.

You fervently nod. “The best. Thank you so much, baby - for this, for everything.” You say, gesturing to his hard work.

“Of course, bebita. Least I could do,” he rasps against your skin, littering kisses along your neck. A content sigh leaves your lips, basking in the love he showers you in daily.

“Baby?”

He hums in response.

“When did you find the time to even do all this?” You ask, carding your fingers through his hair as you straddle him, his lips still connected to your throat. He lifts his head, locking eyes with you.

“Did it all this afternoon while you got your nails done. I bought all the balloons and blew ‘em up on my lunch break yesterday and just kept ‘em all at work. The flowers, I went right after I dropped you off at your appointment to get them before I went to pick up the balloons and your cake from my fridge at work. Knew I could surprise you one day,” he explains with a wink.

You feel your heart grow 10 sizes bigger, a swarm of butterflies flutter throughout your tummy.

He’d done all this for you.

Tears sting your eyes again, a soft smile on your face - one only reserved for him.

“Frankie,” you whine in protest, your gaze shifting to the side as guilt floods you.

As if he can read your mind, Frankie grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Uh uh. I don’t want to hear it. I wanted to do this for you. It’s your special day. Now I know this day isn’t the easiest for you, but I want to make it easy. I want to make everyday easy, the same way you make loving easy. You deserve the whole world and more. And I’ll work everyday to give it to you. Let me celebrate my favorite day, my perfect girl. Because on this day those years ago, the world got brighter. And 2 years ago, my world did too.”

Overwhelmed by his devotion, you shamelessly let your tears fall. Love seeping from your eyes and onto your cheeks, Frankie draws you in gently. Kissing you with such tenderness, cradling your face as if you were the most delicate diamond in the universe, your cheeks wetting his. He pulls back, swiping those tears, mirroring each other's small smiles.

“I love you, bebita,” he says, his voice hushed and husky.

“I love you too, Frankie. Thank you for today, for all of this, baby. This was the best birthday I’ve ever had, all thanks to you. You always make me feel so loved, and I hope you know just how much I love you. Eres el amor de mi vida,” you choke out.

“Of course, baby. I’d do anything and everything for you, princesa. Loving you is the easiest thing in the world. I do know how much you love me, you show me everyday, bebita. I’ve got you, baby. Always. Eres mi amor, mi luz, mi vida, mi luna y todas mis estrellas. Eres mi todo. Te amo mucho, con todo mi corazón, bebita,” he whispers against your lips.

Melding your lips together, your combined hums ring in the air as you vehemently consume one another.

He shifts his grip to your thighs, tightening his hold on you as he rises to his feet.

“Frankie, stop! I’m too heavy, you’re gonna hurt your back!” You yelp as he carries you up the stairs, the whispers of insecurity creep into your head.

“Hush, bebita. My back is fine. I’ve never thrown it out any of those other times I carried you before, and I’m not about to start now. You’re never too heavy. ‘Sides, how many times have I tossed your sexy ass around in bed? Hm?” He asks as he turns the corner, leading you to your shared room.

He immediately rids your mind of any insecurities as he’s met with your silence. Bashfulness coursing through your veins as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck..

“Exactly. That's what I thought,” he says as he kicks the door open, tossing you onto the bed. You yelp as you bounce in the air, Frankie’s pupils dilate - blown black and wide.

Your head resting on a pillow with dress ridden up your thighs, exposing your panties to him as your breasts nearly spill over the low neckline.

He pulls your shoes off, his following suit as tosses them off to the side. Snaking his hands up your thighs, he grabs the hem of your tights.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” he warns before yanking them down, tearing them in the process. It’s unbelievably feral, how swiftly he ripped the tights in two. You gasp as another wave of arousal pools in between your thighs.

He hovers over you, hands trailing up your tummy and cupping your breasts. He captures your lips in his, patience thrown to the wind as his tongue invades your mouth. Sucking in your bottom lip between his teeth, you moan as he bites down. The slight sting only sending more slick to seep from your weeping cunt.

You eagerly fumble with the hem of his shirt as you moan into his mouth. His chest rumbles with a small chuckle, before parting from your lips. He quickly yanks it over his head and tosses it to the floor, refocusing on your lips.

He snakes his hands down to your waist where your dress is bunched up. Slowly raking it up your body, you lift yourself up so he can pull it off you. Frankie licks his lips. He knew you’d been wearing one of his favorite lacy bras, but it’s such a sight for him every time.

Sloppy kisses are exchanged while he slickly maneuvers to unhook your bra, lifting you slightly and discarding it on the floor. He kisses down your bare breasts, sucking a nipple in his mouth while he fiddles with his belt. Frankie releases your nipple with a lewd pop and shucks off his jeans and briefs, his hard cock throbbing.

Both of you bared naked, on display for each other.

“So fucking beautiful, baby. The most beautiful woman on Earth,” he rasps, nearly to himself.

Heat radiates throughout your body, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears and a fire simmering in your belly as he slides down to position himself in front of your bare sex.

Frankie insatiably licks his lips, feasting his eyes on your glistening folds. As if he’s about to devour the finest meal. He peppers kisses along your soft thighs, making you twitch under his grasp.

Your clit throbs, aching for attention. Whining, your hips buck up into his face as he presses a tender kiss to your mound.

“I got you, bebita,” he whispers against your core. He dives in, tongue licking languid stripes up your folds. Frankie groans at the taste, something he’ll never get enough of.

Flicking your clit combined with the vibrations of his groans draws out a high-pitched moan from you, your head sinking further into the pillow. His tongue prods your entrance, slurping up your slick.

“S-so fucking good, Frankie. A-always so f-fucking good to me,” you keen as the flames in your belly fan into a fully-fledged fire. Panting and whimpering, you squirm beneath his hold as he relentlessly flicks your pearl.

He grips your thighs tighter as he suckles your clit between his lips, humming into you. Stars burst behind your eyes as you're engulfed by your orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum, Frankie! I’m gonna-,”

You're cut off by a never-ending stream of moans, babbling incoherently about how good Frankie is. Tugging on his hair as you fall over the edge.

He lets out an animalistic groan as he laps at your slick, slurping up every last drop. Savoring the tangy sweetness seeping from your aching cunt, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the taste. He takes great pleasure in getting you off.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your body, glistening in the warm glow of the room. Frankie presses a chaste kiss to your thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze before towering over you.

Your eyes heavy and glossed over with bliss. Whimpering into him as he presses his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“Sweeter than any fucking cake, bebita,” he jokes, getting a giggle out of you. You bring him down to meet your lips again. Humming as you feel his hard length graze against your bare sex.

Precum weeps from his tip, lightly smearing on your mound. A soft moan slips from you as Frankie lines his cock up with your pussy. He swirls the tip around your mound, gathering your slick on his cock as he teasingly prods your entrance.

“Frankieee, please. Need you inside me,” you whine, rutting your hips seeking relief.

“Relax, hermosa. Like I said, I got you.”

He slowly slips inside, your dripping pussy welcoming him in with ease. Your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. Moaning in tandem as he slides home, bottoming out. He’s so big, he’s already kissing your cervix.

You clench around him, panting as the sting from the stretch of his cock morphs into pleasure. Frankie lets out a moan, huffing as he tries to keep his composure.

“Don’t do that, baby. Or else it’ll be over before it even started,” he grunts above you.

“Then how about you fuck me, Morales? ‘S my birthday, I want you - need you, baby,” you whine.

“Oh I’m gonna fuck you, baby. Gonna have you fucking stumbling all over the place after this,” he slurs, nearly drunk on just being inside your warm walls.

Without preamble, he swiftly draws his hips back before slamming into you. You unabashedly scream, not caring that your neighbors will probably hear you.

Your noises drive Frankie wild, spurring him on to bring you to your orgasm. His pace picks up, unrelenting as he cants his hips into yours - pushing himself deeper and deeper with each thrust as he hovers above you.

His chest brushes against yours as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“Feel good, bebita? Huh? Feel me here, in your stomach?” He taunts, pressing down on your stomach as he punches your g-spot. The added pressure makes the coil in your belly tighten, burning white hot as he fucks in and out of you.

“Answer me, baby,” he growls against your lips, the angle he’s at hitting that spot just right.

“Y-Yes, Frankie! Feels s-sooo fucking g-good! Gonna feel you for d-days,” you shriek, hiccupping as tears prick the corners of your eyes. Squeezing around him as your second orgasm rapidly approaches.

“That’s right, baby. Your pussy feels so fucking good, so fucking tight. I could live between these fucking thighs. Like you were made for me,” he babbles, moaning as you clench around him.

“Made for you, Frankie. Only you,” you whisper, the air being punched from your lungs with every thrust.

“Cum for me, bebita. Dámelo, wanna see your gorgeous face when you soak my cock. Come on, baby,” he grunts, holding out on his orgasm - set on making you cum first.

His words toss you over the edge. The coil snapping in your belly as you writhe beneath him, riding out your orgasm, gushing all over his cock.

“Fuck yes, bebita. Good girl, good fucking girl,” Frankie grits as he continues to fuck you through your high. His own orgasm not far behind.

“Cum, Frankie, f-fill me up, baby, please!” You beg breathlessly as you come down from your high.

He moans, chasing his high as he ruts into you. Moaning in tandem as he fills you with his load. Both of you sticky and clammy, covered in sweat and cum. He topples over you, caging you in between his broad biceps.

Small lingering kisses trail along your neck as you bask in each other's proximity and warmth. The post-coital bliss sinking in. You wrap your arms around his taut back, running your fingers through his disheveled curls.

“Love you so much, Frankie," you whisper into his ear.

“Love you so much more, princesa."

Translations:

Que le muerda - bite it

Eres el amor de mi vida - you are the love of my life

Eres mi amor, mi luz, mi vida, mi luna y todas mis estrellas. - you are my love, my light, my light, my moon and all my stars. You are my everything

Eres mi todo - you are my everything

Te amo mucho, con todo mi corazón, bebita - I love you so much, with all my heart, baby girl.

Dámelo - give it to me

hehehehe can you tell Frankie is rotting my brain?

this was definitely my most vulnerable piece yet, as it contains aspects authentic to me so i was very nervy to post. like i said, i hope you found some relatability, and enjoyed!

anyway, happy frankie friday!! thank you so much for reading!! 🩷

tag list: @nostalxgic @sweetercalypso @undrthelights @gracieheartspedro @sapphic-gardn @bastardmandennis @party-hearses @tinygarbage @mandoisapunk @pedrostories @harriedandharassed

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Meet Me In The Hallway, Chapter Three:

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

rating: E (18+ only, lots of pining, these two being clueless, a lil angst, a shitty date, one cigarette, alcohol consumption, jealousy, public sex?, fingering)

wc: 3.7k

series masterlist | frankie masterlist

Three Months Later

“Katrina, get back here!” Frankie called out in the busy grocery store, his daughter running ahead of him as he walked into the store with Santiago at his side. “God, need to get her on a leash.”

“Daddy, there’s samples!” Rina excitedly announced as she stood in front of an older employee handing out samples for some sort of dip.

“Sorry,” Frankie apologized to the woman with an exhausted sigh.

“Please, daddy?” the five year old begged with round eyes and a pout. Frankie caved with a sigh, grabbing one of the plastic cups with dip and a chip placed in it, handing it over to his daughter.

“What do you say?” he asked his little girl, watching with mortification as she mumbled a ‘thank you’ with her mouth stuffed.

“Thank you,” he repeated more clearly and gave the woman another apologetic look.

“Spoiled,” Santi sang with a shake of his head as they continued on through the store.

“Yeah, well, she’s dealing with a lot of change right now,” Frankie replied with a sigh. “Just want to keep her happy.”

“Was just kidding, Fish.”

Santi watched Frankie as he pushed the cart, his head forward, his eyes unfocused as if he was lost in his head. He’d been like that a lot lately, though Santi couldn’t really blame him. It’s not easy losing a parent, especially when it’s your only one.

“Has Dylan told you about her date tonight?” he asked, hoping to distract his friend for a while. Frankie turned to Santi with a furrowed look, his head shaking. “Yeah, guess this guy’s been coming to the shop every day at lunchtime and she finally agreed to go out with him.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell me that?” Frankie asked.

“I don’t know,” Santi shrugged. “Surprising. You two are so buddy buddy.”

“We just get along well,” Frankie dismissed. “Easier to talk to than you idiots.”

“Right,” he chuckled, the sound earning him a confused glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he chuckled again and held his hands up in defense. “She’s just…attractive, and—“

“Haven’t noticed,” Frankie lied horribly, instantly tensing at the memory of Dylan’s face—the plumpness of her lips, the hazel of her eyes, her golden skin and honey colored hair.

“Oh, come on.” Santi watched with a smirk as Frankie filled the cart aisle by aisle, ignoring the ribbing by his best friend. “Man, look. You can admit she’s a babe—“

“Rina, watch out, they’re trying to get through.” Frankie gently tugged his daughter from the center of the aisle before forcing her to sit in the cart much to her dismay.

“Listen, I love Imelda, but even I’ve thought about—“

“Pope,” Frankie sighed. “Enough.”

“You know when she looks really good? When she walks around in that robe—“

“Santi. Enough.” Frankie gave his friend a stern look, desperate for him to change the subject to literally anything else.

Anyways, Santi was wrong. While Dylan did look good in that robe, Frankie liked her best when she stayed up too late with him smoking in the backyard, the patio lights illuminating her lazy but maddening smile, her worn sleep shirts that hung on her frame like a dress driving him crazy. He liked her best when he got her giggling, her head tipping back, her nose scrunched as she let out an accidental snort. He liked her best when she teased him, when her eyes would roll at one of his stupid jokes, when she played with his daughter. That’s when she looked “really good”.

“Maybe…” he paused, reconsidering his thought. “Maybe it’s time I tried to…I don’t know…”

“Get l-a-i-d?” Santi spelled the word given Rina’s presence. “Yeah, I think so. Why don’t you come out with me and the boys tonight?”

“Uh, because it’s your stupid triple-date,” Frankie sassed. “I’m not gonna be able to pick someone up with a bunch of women around. Besides, I’d have to make sure I can get a sitter—“

“Listen, I think you need to prepare for the fact that you might not be able to pick someone up, full stop. You’re rusty. And grumpy.” Santi smirked as he pat his friend on the back. “And I told you, Imelda’s little sister is down to babysit whenever.”

“Fine. I’ll come along, but…I swear to god, you guys better not do that thing you always do.”

“What thing?” Santi laughed out the question.

“Where you embarrass me, pendejo,” Frankie replied with an eye roll.

“Fine, fine. I promise we’ll let you do your thing. Maybe if you get laid you’ll be less of a sad boy.”

“Yeah.” Not unless he gets Dylan out of his head. “Maybe.”

“Len!” Dylan called upstairs for her sister who was shut up in Benny’s room. The pair had reconciled a few days after their fight three months ago after Benny sat down with Dylan and let her know how much he liked her younger sister. Since then, she’s basically been over every single day and most nights, becoming the house’s eighth tenant.

“What?” she snapped as she opened the door.

“I have a date tonight,” she replied. “Can you help me pick out something to wear?”

Lennon smiled and nodded before coming downstairs.

“So,” Lennon started as she flipped through her older sister’s closet while Dylan sat at her vanity adding waves to her honey blonde hair. “Who’s this guy?”

“I don’t really know,” she chuckled. “He runs a tattoo shop down the street from my place. Comes in all the time, always flirting but also always leaving a good tip. When he came in the last time, he asked me out, and frankly, a girl has needs.”

“Yeah, I figured you were going to go to someone else for that. Someone we know. Single dad maybe?” Lennon hinted with a smile pointed at her sister. Dylan rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” she snapped. “Frankie’s a good friend.”

“He doesn’t have to be just a good friend,” Lennon countered. “Could be a good boyfriend, too.”

“You think I haven’t thought about that?”

As if on cue, Frankie, Santi, and Rina came in through the front door with a loud bustle.

“Not a word,” Dylan warned, pointing at her sister who was now smirking. “I’m serious, Len.”

“Okay, okay.” She held her hands up in surrender.

“Dyllie, Lemon, look what daddy got me,” Rina rushed into the bedroom holding a small bouquet of wildflowers.

“Those are so pretty, Rina!” Dylan smiled as she set her curling iron down on the counter. Frankie appeared in the doorway, offering Dylan a soft, nervous smile as he handed her a bouquet of her own that he had hidden behind his back.

“Heard you were going on a date tonight,” he began as Dylan accepted the flowers with a look of shock. “Thought I’d bring you some flowers in case your date doesn’t.”

“Oh,” she lifted her eyes to Frankie’s, unsure of whether or not this gesture meant what she thought (and hoped) it did.

“Oh—no. I didn’t—I wasn’t—I just think you deserve flowers. Women, in general. And men too, if that’s their thing—no judgement, you know. Gay rights—“

“Thanks, Frankie,” Dylan interrupted his panicked rambling with a chuckle. “This was very sweet.”

“Yeah, it’s…no problem, Dyl.” He scratched his neck and took in a deep breath as an awkward silence passed over the room. Frankie broke the silence with a pat to the doorframe and nodded at her. “Have fun…curling your hair.”

“Thanks,” she laughed and shook her head at him as he slowly and painfully awkwardly disappeared into the hall, Rina following behind. Lennon had to cover her mouth to stifle her snort of laughter, her eyes wide as she looked at her older sister. “Shh.”

“He’s so into you!” Lennon whisper-yelled.

“Stop,” Dylan scolded with a smile on her face as she sniffed the flowers in her hand. “I have a date.”

“Again, why?”

“Because it’s more simple than fucking my roommate,” she whispered back.

“Fair point.”

It was around 8:30 in the evening when Dylan emerged from her bedroom with Lennon. Frankie, Benny, Santi, and Santi’s girlfriend, Imelda, were all sat on the giant sectional in the living room watching Benny’s movie night pick: Rocky IV.

Frankie, already distracted by the looming thought of Dylan going out with someone else tonight, noticed her almost immediately, his posture straightening a bit as he took in the sight of her in a form fitting little black dress and heels, red lipstick painting her plump pout as she nervously dug through her purse.

“Do I have everything?” she mumbled to herself or to her sister, Frankie wasn’t sure. “Alright, whatever, wish me luck.”

“He’s here?” Lennon asked as she rounded the corner of the sofa to find her spot on Benny’s lap, pulling everyone’s attention to Dylan. Santi let out a whistle while his girlfriend mumbled something along the lines of “god damn” as the room took her in.

“You clean up nice,” Benny offered as Dylan playfully rolled her eyes at her reception before being startled by the honking of a car parked by the front of the house.

“Dyl, is this guy seriously honking at you?” Lennon asked with a chuckle of disbelief.

“Len,” she sighed, warning her sister to keep her thoughts on the subject to herself. “It’s not the 1950’s. He doesn’t have to show up at my doorstep with a bouquet of roses.”

Frankie blushed at her words, feeling embarrassed for having gotten her flowers earlier. He wasn’t sure what came over him in the store. One minute Rina was pointing out the wildflower bouquets and the next he was adding not just one to the cart, but two. Santi teased him about it the entire way home, but Frankie felt a surge of confidence, almost certain that this date of hers would be the final push he needed to make a move, but the minute he saw her sitting there, curling her hair at her vanity, that confidence vanished into thin air.

“Uh-uh, it’s not even about that,” Santi chimed in. “It’s just about putting in effort and making a good first impression.”

“Yeah,” Frankie found himself verbally agreeing much to the surprise of the rest of the room who all turned to look at him. “Just…you know…call us if you need anything.”

“Aren’t you guys going out to the bars?” Dylan asked with a smile pointed directly at him, as though she was silently praising him for his attentiveness. He lived for that smile.

“Yeah, but Will’s DD-ing,” Benny replied in his deep, casual voice that clearly had won Lennon over. “Just text one of us.”

Another honk sounded and Dylan watched as her housemates grew irritated at her date’s lack of decorum.

“I’ll go so he can stop,” she announced meekly, suddenly filled with worry that perhaps this date wasn’t going to end how she hoped. Still, she persisted and walked out of the house, hoping that the group inside wouldn’t think less of her for going out with such a character.

“Can you believe that?” Imelda turned to Santi and spoke. “I mean, if I looked like her, I wouldn’t settle for that.”

“She’s got her needs,” Lennon replied with an eye roll, her words piquing Frankie’s interest. “Least that’s what she told me. I think she knows it’s not gonna lead to anything. Girl just wants some dick.”

Frankie cleared his throat, drawing stares from both Lennon and Santi.

“Thirsty?” Santi teased, earning a punch to the arm.

“Quit it,” Imelda scolded her boyfriend. “Frankie’s allowed to have a crush. Hell, I have a crush.”

“I don’t—“ Frankie began to deny the claim but became too flustered with all the eyes on him. “Men and women can be friends.”

“Until they fuck,” Benny retorted with a smirk.

With that, Frankie stood to walk back to his bedroom where his daughter was fast asleep, desperate to be left alone by not only his jealousy but his friends that seemed to be able to read him like a book.

Though he tried to rid the image of her in that daringly short dress, his eyes taking more of her body than he’d ever been shown to him before, he couldn’t shake it. She looked so good. And who was getting the privilege of admiring her tonight? Some douchebag who didn’t even walk up to the door to greet her.

It wasn’t fair, and yet he knew that be it this guy or the next, he’d have to witness his friend—this unexpected beauty who looked like she came straight out of the seventies rock scene, who also had a sense of humor and a similar trauma-derived pessimistic outlook on life—go out and get her “needs” met.

He was confident that he could meet all of her needs and more if he could only just work up the nerve to make a fucking move. But the friendship was too valuable at this point to risk over something as unsteady as romance. He cherished their friendship, the ease in which they could talk about all the shit going on deep down that felt too mushy to talk about with Pope or Benny or Will or Lennon. He couldn’t risk losing her. He wouldn’t risk it.

“So,” Dylan smiled, albeit nervously, as she watched her date stuff his mouth ungracefully at the restaurant she had to pick out given that he hadn’t planned anything. “You been living here long?”

“Nah,” he shook his head and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “You?”

“For a while,” she replied, feeling her appetite fade as he continued to feast as though he hadn’t been fed in weeks. “You know, you seemed different when you asked me out. Wasn’t really expecting…this.”

“Expecting what?” he snapped defensively.

“You’re just…different than I thought you were gonna be,” she shrugged.

“I’m a tattoo-artist, not a knight in shining armor.” Dylan chuckled, not at the poor attempt at humor, but at his audacity. Resting her napkin on the table, she stood and grabbed her purse. “You’re really going?” he asked, more insulted than he was concerned about her.

“Yeah,” she replied indifferently, pulling her phone out and dialing Lennon’s number as she walked out of the restaurant. After reaching her voicemail, Dylan sighed, a throbbing ache emerging in her head. She tried Frankie next and thankfully, it went through.

“Hey, everything good?”

“No,” she sighed, not realizing she was so close to tears until she heard the voice of the one man she’d grown to trust. “Can someone come get me? Or—what bar are you guys at? I’m downtown, I could just walk.”

“We’re at Red’s, where are you?” he asked over the noise in the background.

“Uh—“ She turned around to read the sign of the Mexican restaurant she was standing in front of. “I’m at The Cantina, sound familiar?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “You’re just about a block away. I’ll walk over and get you.”

“No—“

“Too bad, already outside.”

When Frankie spotted her, he felt a smile creep onto his face. She was holding a cigarette to her lips, her eyes scanning around the street before landing on Frankie as he waved at her down the sidewalk.

“Didn’t know you smoked cigarettes,” he spoke as the pair met halfway.

“I don’t,” she replied, ashing her cigarette out on the trash can before throwing it away. “Only on rare occasions. Like going on a date with a total fucking weirdo.”

“Yeah, how was that?” he asked, his hands tucked in his pockets as they turned around and walked back towards the bar.

“He was gross. And boring. And an asshole at the very end,” she replied in a chuckle. “Should’ve listened to you guys and just stayed at home.”

Frankie shrugged, his smile returning. “You never would’ve known if you hadn’t gone.”

“I’m just so fucking—“ she sighed, shaking her head as she caught herself from over-sharing. “It’s just hard being lonely all the time. Was hoping for maybe one night of—whatever.” She sucked in a sharp breath as they arrived at the bar. “Doesn’t matter now.”

Frankie had to physically clench his jaw to stop himself from letting everything spill out then and there, choosing instead to watch her as she walked in and caused their entire table to light up. He wondered if she knew what spell she cast on everyone. If she did, she carried the knowledge humbly, earning his heart even more.

“So, the horn guy sucked?” Lennon asked, drunk and obnoxious but still as pretty and put together as ever.

“Yeah,” Dylan chuckled and sat on one of the barstools at the table, Frankie coming up to stand beside her, close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from his body. “S’okay. Wasn’t that cute anyways.”

“Hey, m’gonna go get another beer. You want anything?” Frankie asked with a tap of his hand against Dylan’s hand. Dylan’s lips parted as her breath hitched, her eyes quickly meeting his.

“Uh—yeah, sure. Beer’s good.” She composed herself as quickly as she panicked, offering him a smile and a nod before turning back to the table while he walked off. But no matter how hard she tried not to watch him as he walked away, her eyes kept wandering back to him as he stood at the bar. She watched as a petite little brunette that hardly looked old enough to drink walked up to him and batted her long eyelashes, smiling and giggling at everything he said.

“Oh,” Santi sang, pulling the rest of the table’s attention to Frankie and the girl. “She went up to him, too.”

“Think our boy is finally gonna get lucky tonight.” Will lifted his beer up. “To the end of his sour fucking mood.”

“Cheers,” they table sounded, besides Dylan, that is. She found herself too busy clenching her jaw at the thought of Frankie with someone else, her eyes locked on the scratches in the wood of the tabletop rather than her group.

“Hey, I’m gonna go to the restroom,” Dylan whispered into her sister’s ear.

“Want me to come?” she offered, but Dylan earnestly shook her head.

“No, I just need a minute.” Lennon’s eyes grew sympathetic, a frown forming in her face as she cupped her older sister's cheek.

“I’m sorry, babe,” she cooed.

“S’okay,” Dylan managed, forcing a sad smile onto her face, her eyes brimming with tears. “Be right back.”

“What happened? Choked?” Santi teased as Frankie came back to the table with two beers in hand.

“No, she was just way too young. Not into that.” Frankie set Dylan’s beer down in front of her empty seat before looking around. “Where’d Dylan run off to?”

Lennon waved him to come over and he obliged, leaning his ear over so that she could speak.

“She saw you with the sorority sister. Ran off to the bathroom.” Frankie looked at her confused, his brows furrowed with concern.

“What—“

“Frankie, you’re not an idiot,” Lennon drunkenly slurred before being handed a glass of water by Cassandra. Frankie’s expression didn’t budge, forcing her to sigh dramatically. “Or maybe you are. She wants you, dummy. And we all know you want her, so…go fucking get her.”

Frankie nodded, a look a determination mixed with anxiety taking the place of confusion as he swerved through the crowded bar to the bathrooms. As he arrived in the dark hallway lit by a singular neon beer sign, Dylan stepped out and bumped into him.

“Oh—oh. Hey,” she sniffled, her eyes reluctantly meeting his.

“You’re crying,” he noted.

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“Why?” he asked, his fingers twitching at his side as he fought the urge to reach up and wipe the remainder of tears off her cheek.

“Something silly,” she shrugged.

“Was it—“ He interrupted himself, unsure of what the right thing to say was. “I’m…I have this crush on you, Dylan…and, god, this is awkward—I don’t know what to do here.”

Dylan looked like a deer in headlights as she stared up at him, listening to him very choppily detail his feelings for her.

“Just trying to say, I guess, if you feel the same…you should tell me,” he continued, his eyes frantic as they studied every inch of her face.

“Are you drunk?” she asked after a beat of silence.

“No,” he shook his head. “Are you?”

“No.”

Dylan’s head was spinning as Frankie’s hands made contact with her hips, walking her backwards back into the private stall with his lips crushed against hers. He only left her to shut and lock the door behind him, but as soon as he turned around he was right back on her, holding her frame tight to his as he crowded her back against the sink.

“I’ve wanted this so long,” Dylan confessed in a hitched gasp when Frankie’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of her dress. “Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Me neither,” he sighed out against her pulse before sucking a mark onto it. “Fuck, you have no idea.”

Frankie’s fingers slid over the lace of Dylan’s thong, up and down, up and down, until he slipped beneath the fabric to feel her slick on his fingertips.

“Shit,” she gasped, her brows stitched together as she looked down between their bodies, watching his forearm flex as he circled her clit. “Frankie, fuck. It’s so good.”

Her praise pulled a soft moan from his lips, his head pulling away from her neck to watch her as he slid his fingers lower and curled them inside of her. Dylan’s eyelids fluttered closed, her pouty red-stained lips forming a perfect circle as he targeted that soft spot deep inside that she could never reach with her own fingers.

“Baby,” he moaned, shaking his head in reverence as he watched her high crest, her chest heaving as he kept working her up and up and up. “You’re so beautiful. Fuck.”

“Frankie,” she warned, peeling her eyes open so that she was meeting his stare. “Frankie, oh my god.”

He nodded, a smile growing on his face as she started to squeeze his fingers.

“That’s it, querida,” he hummed, watching her as she fell over the edge with a silent cry. “Fuck, that’s it. So fucking beautiful when you cum, baby.”

“God,” she sighed, resting her head on his collarbone as she grabbed his wrist to halt his movements. “Too much.”

Frankie smiled and slipped his fingers out of her, bringing them up to his mouth and sucking them clean.

“Shit,” Dylan felt an aftershock of pleasure as she watched him hum at her taste. Before she could say anything else or offer to return the favor, a loud banging sounded on the door, making her jump. “Fuck, guess we should hurry up.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, shuffling over to wash his hands while Dylan adjusted herself in the mirror. “So…”

“I know,” she chuckled. “Let’s just…take it day by day? Doesn’t have to be anything…serious, you know?”

“Okay,” he agreed, though truthfully, he’d agree to anything she proposed. As long as he got to kiss her again. “Day by day. Nothing serious. Sounds…good.”

“Good.”

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[redahlia-writes]

you make loving fun. | frankie morales x ofc

five. songbird

content (for this chapter): family feels (a lot), implication of cheating (in previous relationship), references to a past bad relationships, parenting, benny is their honorary child actually, talks of pregnancy and fertiliy, self-doubt, some suggestive language

word count: 5.2k

a/n: this chapter is a little shorter than the previous ones, with more, kind of quicker scenes, but i really wanted it to be out there before i start exams because i don’t know how soon i’ll manage to write the next one. i love my silly little family

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

series masterlist | masterlist

previous

“Well, Camila’s crying so I’ll have to keep it brief or I might start doing the same. My brother and Pope said a lot about you, but they forgot the most important part: your heart. Your big, wonderful heart that had space for all of us, for Alba, for all our shitty baggage. Sorry, I know, I’m sorry, I just–I think we take it for granted sometimes, how much you’ve done for us, too. Not just by loving Frankie the way you do, but by being there for us–for me. You took care of my bruises when we’d only just met, you spent nights awake on your couch just listening to my complaints even though you had work in the morning, you overfed me on multiple occasions, and–I warned you I was going to cry. Alright, Cami, you–I love you, thank you for everything, but mainly for being you and taking care of us when you really, really didn’t have to. And Fish–Frankie, thank you, too. Yes, because you brought Camila into our lives, but also for you. You were the first of us to make it out, to get your shit together–sorry, again, I’m sorry–what I’m trying to say is you made me realize love was still a possibility for people like us, that we could have a new life, if we put in the work. I’m grateful for that, and I’m grateful for you–both of you. Now, maybe we should go back to some of those stories Pope was mentioning–”

The Sunday morning crowd made the café feel smaller, a little more chaotic than they were used to, and Frankie did not lose sight of Camila as she gathered their orders while he sat at the small table with Alba–the same table they always sat at, from that first morning still hungover. The people there had started to recognise them, smile at them, linger in small-talk, so it wasn’t all that odd one or the other would be held back for a few moments.

But Frankie noticed the tight line of Camila’s shoulders, the guy in front of her wrapping his arms in a quick hug–she seemed to try to reciprocate, but her arms were stiff at her sides, back pinched together. He frowned, while Camila nodded and responded to whatever it was the other guy had told her, and her gaze flickered towards him and Alba, a tight-lipped smile in their directions even with her eyes a little wider–it took him everything in him to not get up and reach for them both, especially when the guy’s eyes moved from him to the child and back, eyebrows slightly arched, and back further to Camila.

The talk was cut short by a blonde woman pushing a stroller and simultaneously holding a second child on her hip. Camila’s posture went even more rigid, though her gaze softened at the two kids, and with a quick movement of her head she gathered the small tray and walked away, a goodbye thrown over her shoulder as she made a beeline towards the table.

When she returned to the table, sitting between Frankie and Alba, she exhaled heavily and reached for one of the fuming cups of coffee–he bumped his knee with hers, making her glance up with a worried gaze. He frowned again.

“You okay?” he asked, soft enough that some tension left her but not so much so she couldn’t hear him from above the noise.

“Yeah–yes, of course,” she tried and failed to plaster on a smile, another sigh escaping her afterwards as she sagged in her seat. Frankie placed his hand on the table, palm up, and she immediately let her own fall into his, picking it up to bring it up to her face. She brushed her lips to his knuckles in a quick kiss, and he leaned in closer.

“You can talk to me, baby. What is it?” he reassured softly, and this time her smile was true though softer, pushing her cheek against the back of his hand and looking up at him. She cleared her throat then, taking a slow breath in.

“That was Jason,” Frankie looked back towards the man, then at Camila again. “Yes, that Jason,” she added before he could ask. “The very same.”

The same guy who’d broken up with her after a decade because he was bored; the same guy that didn’t like when he could hear her–in their everyday life, or in the bedroom, the reason why she had started singing a little louder, had stopped holding back; the same guy that, despite the years, had still an influence on her sorrys and her fears, although less so now. The same guy who had told her he didn’t want a family, but now pushed a stroller out of the café.

“With a kid?” was the first thing he could ask, baffled.

“With two kids,” she replied, bringing the cup up to her face. “And a wife. Of almost three years, give or take,” she added before taking a sip, flinching at the warmth of the drink.

“Of–wait, what?” he frowned again, glancing over his shoulder as if he could still see them.

“The first kid, too–he’s around Alba’s age, little older maybe,” she smiled at the kid that waved her hands at the mention of her name, placing down the cup to give her the other hand.

“Mila,” he called gently, bringing his chair closer.

“I’m fine, honey, I swear, just a little–” she trailed off, then scoffed with a grimace. “It’s not even confused–it’s not like I didn’t know,” she shrugged, turning to look at him with a softer smile, almost to reassure him. “I did not lose anything after he left, only gained. The loss was all before.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said gently, leaning in to rest his chin over her shoulder, their joined hands falling onto her lap. “You can be disappointed–God knows I wouldn’t be if I found out Sophie has a family now.”

“I don’t think I am, though,” she admitted, tilting her head to look down at him still resting against her. “It feels odd, sure, but I don’t think I care,” she brushed her lips to his forehead quickly, then turned to kiss Alba’s hand, pulling a giggle out of her just as she tilted her head against Frankie’s. “I have all I need, Frankie.”

That same night, when Alba was fast asleep and the house was quiet, Frankie reached towards the other side of the bed and found it empty. Still half asleep, he pulled his head up from the pillow and turned to look at the vacant spot, patting it lightly as if to make sure before sitting up.

“Mila?” he called, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He waited for a response a few moments longer before getting up, padding quietly outside the room.

The door to the bathroom was open, lights turned off, and when he looked to the other side he saw Camila sitting on the floor by Alba’s ajar door, her eyes wide as she nibbled her bottom lip, crossed legs bouncing ever so slightly in agitation. Frankie walked up to her quietly, and when she didn’t look up towards him–when she kept staring at the door instead–he kneeled by her side, ignoring his legs protesting at the movement and position.

“Camila, baby, what’s wrong?” he asked softly, reaching to take one of her hands she fidgeted over her lap, picking at her nails. She blinked rapidly at his touch, gaze flickering unfocused for a moment from the door to him before lingering on the tilt of his head.

“Sorry,” she murmured, giving a quick squeeze to his hand. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I was just wondering where you were,” he shifted back slightly, trying to alleviate some of the pressure to his knees. “Did something happen with Alba?” he asked then, and Camila shook her head quickly, offering him a tight smile.

“It’s nothing, go back to sleep,” she reassured. Frankie didn’t budge, arching his eyebrows slowly, and she sighed, looking down. “You’re awfully stubborn, Francisco.”

“And you’re sitting in front of our daughter’s bedroom and staring at it as if it’s about to catch on fire,” he retorted, returning her smile a little wider–there was a flicker in her expression he almost missed, a light quiver of her bottom lip and her gaze shifting back towards the room. “Come on, let’s get up.”

She hesitated just a moment longer as Frankie stood up, offering her both his hands, and then let him hoist her up and wrap his arms around her, pulling her up–enough so that when he walked forward and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her legs dangled just above the ground. She chuckled softly, letting her forehead fall to the curve of his neck.

“You’re gonna strain your back, Frankie,” she murmured, and he scoffed lightly.

“Are you calling me old?” he put her back down at the top of the stairs, hands sliding down her sides and back into her hands as she chuckled again, eyes fluttering open.

“I would never,” she said in mock offense, tipping her chin up. He caught her pouting lips in a quick kiss before leading her down the stairs, their hands joined behind his back.

He could feel her hesitate every now and then, lingering a step behind and turning her head before he squeezed her hands, encouraging her forward without turning to look at her. She’d done the same for him the times he’d woken up from a nightmare, clinging to her breathlessly until she woke with a startle, shushing him gently and coaxing him up and out of the bedroom, the kettle already on the stove before he fully came to it sitting at the kitchen counter–he did the same now, her eyes following him around as she sat on the counter itself.

The silence that accompanied his presence seemed to be doing part of the work already, her posture relaxing as her legs dangled and rocked slowly–he slotted himself between her knees before placing the fuming cups at her side, the tags of the tea bags wrapped around the handle. When he looked up at her, her eyes had softened, hands searching for him again now that he was within reach.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” he hummed the same question she asked him those nights, his hands running up and down her thighs slowly, a soothing motion that had her leaning forward. Frankie kissed her cheek, chaste and delicate, coaxing a quick smile out of her.

She basked in the feeling a moment longer, eyelids shut as she rested her hands over his, palm to knuckles–he hooked his thumbs between her thumb and forefinger, stopping rubbing her legs when she tapped against the back of his hands, exhaling slowly.

“He changed his mind,” she murmured, looking back up at him. Frankie frowned lightly.

“Who?” Camila sighed again, tilting her head back.

“Jason,” his name sounded almost like a groan, and Frankie kept his frown up a moment longer. “Or maybe he didn’t and he just happened to knock her up, the poor girl,” she scoffed, shaking her head lightly. “Or it was just me he didn’t want a family with, which–fine by me, that’s not what bothers me.”

“What is it, then?” drawing small circles over the back of her hand with his thumbs, Frankie brought her gaze back to him, his head slightly tilted, his eyes soft.

“He changed his mind,” she repeated, a worried edge in her voice. “So what if–if Sophie does, too? What if one day she just changes her mind and wants Alba back, and–she’s still her mother, Frankie,” the last sentence was whispered, eyes wide and glossed over. He sighed softly, letting go of her hands with one last squeeze to bring his own at the sides of her face, pulling her closer to kiss her forehead.

“She surrendered parental rights, you know that,” he started, voice gentle–still, Camila scoffed softly, looking down at her hands as she began picking at her nails again. It used to be a sore subject for Frankie, the way Sophie had cut ties so drastically, the I don’t want to have anything to do with either of you–not even for his sake, but for Alba’s, the possibility she might search for her mother one day and have to face the reality of the situation, maybe blame it on him. But not ever since Camila had entered their lives.

“She carried her, still, she–” a shuddering breath caught in her throat and she shook her head again. “Where would that leave me, then?” her voice cracked, cheeks flushed. Frankie picked up one of her hands again, stopping her picking, and bringing it up to his mouth, a delicate kiss to her knuckles.

“You’re her mom, Mila, in all the ways that matter,” with their joined hands, he brushed across her cheek, stopping the few tears that had escaped her. “How about this,” he said then, pushing gently underneath her chin to make her lift her gaze, “we’re going to take the day off work tomorrow, keep Alba home, and go sign some papers. I think it’s about time.”

“What?” it was her time to frown, sniffling slightly as he locked their hands together, fingers intertwined still under her chin.

“We’ve lived together for over a year now, no? That’s enough time,” he said, shrugging a little. He tilted his head when she did, too, as if perplexed, and smiled softly. “You are her mother, Camila. Just because you didn’t carry her doesn’t mean you’re not,” he added, careful to hold her gaze.

“I know,” she sighed, then shook her head again with a soft groan. “God, I know, I know–I just can’t help but think she’s not mine, and that terrifies me.”

“She’s yours just as much as she’s mine,” he let his free hand brush across her cheek and through her hair, pushing the dark locks away from her face and, in doing so, keeping her head upright. “And I meant what I said–we can go tomorrow morning, and it’ll be down on paper, too.”

“What about Alba? If she doesn’t–” Camila sounded a little breathless still.

“Mamá?” Alba sounded just like Frankie when she called her that–the same tilt of the voice, the same accent, too. She stood at the entrance of the kitchen and rubbed her eyes, hair standing on edge from where she’d rested on the pillow while she slept.

“Hi, sweetling,” she wiped her cheeks and eyes quickly, and Frankie helped her off the counter so she could walk up to the child. “What is it? You alright?”

“You weren’t up,” Alba pouted, arms extended towards her as soon as she was within reach. Camila picked her up right away, holding her on her hip–the kid let her head fall on her shoulder, buttheading her chin gently as she settled into the curve of her neck.

“I’m sorry, baby–dad and I were craving something warm,” she said just as softly, gaze flickering towards Frankie–he was holding both their mugs now, his eyebrows arched and that same smile softened furthermore, looking at them with a shimmer in his eyes. “Did something happen?”

“Sueño,” she mumbled, one of her hands wrapped around the collar of Camila’s pajama shirt.

“Buen sueño o mal sueño?” she asked, slowly rubbing her back as she began rocking side by side. Frankie got closer, her gaze lifting up to him, as he focused a moment longer on Alba.

“Bad,” the child said, a clear pout in her voice. Camila brushed her lips to the top of her head, sighing softly.

“How about,” she said, hoisting her up a little over her hip so that the child would look at her, “tonight we protect you in the big bed?” Alba was already nodding, tugging the collar of her shirt as Camila smiled. “Is that what you wanted? To stay with us?”

“Yes,” she nodded again, and Frankie chuckled softly, leaning in to leave a kiss to Alba’s head first, then Camila’s.

“Come on then,” he said, his voice softer than before. “Mama and I can have our drinks upstairs. Do you want anything else?” Alba shook her head, arms winding around Camila’s neck as she cuddled against her once more–Frankie looked at the woman then, still smiling, and gently bumped their hips together. “I think that answers your question,” he added in a whisper, to which Camila sighed.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and Frankie leaned in again to press a gentle kiss against her lips, brief and tender.

“Song,” Alba demanded, tugging Camila’s shirt twice with a tight fist.

“Song?” she asked in return, one last look towards Frankie before she turned for the stairs. The child nodded firmly, making her chuckle. “Of course, baby.”

Frankie lingered a few steps back, watching their heads bent together, dark hair of one and the other blending together as Camila began humming a song soft-voiced–she’d first sang Songbird for Alba to calm her down during a thunderstorm, both of them curled up on the child’s small bed (Camila had then complained about a backache). He’d watched the tears dry up on Alba’s face as the song went on and then started again, Camila’s gentle caresses across her face and head to soothe her furthermore, until she’d fallen asleep in spite of the storm raging on. When she could not sleep, Alba would ask for the song again–Frankie had tried, too, but she’d just started giggling, claiming it was not like mama’s. He couldn’t argue with her.

That night, he stayed awake a while longer, watching them sleep–Alba was curled into Camila’s chest, head notched underneath her chin, still clinging to her shirt. Camila had one arm wrapped around her, keeping her close, and the other extended towards Frankie, fingers hooked into the sleeve of his shirt as if in the process to bring him closer yet.

When sleep crept up to him, he turned to his side, sandwiching the little girl in the middle of them, and wrapped his arm around them both, leaving one last kiss to each of his girls’ heads.

Frankie believed he was seeing double. Maybe triple. 

Camila held Alba’s hand tightly in the middle of the airport, while her other arm was wrapped around a woman’s shoulders with such strength he could see the strain in her muscles, head bent towards hers and a light shake in her shoulder, as if she was about to cry.

“Ya, ahora, ¿dónde está mi nieta?” the woman said, a gentle pat to Camila’s back as she pulled away. It was uncanny, really, the way the two looked alike–Camila’s mother hair had more gray, tied in a knot at the nape of her neck, and lines crossed her face, but other than that it seemed like a mirror. And Alba, with her dark curls and big brown eyes, a continuation of the picture. “Hola, muñeca,” Emilia said softly, the words almost lost in the chaos of the place.

Alba clung to Camila’s arm, shuffling to hide behind her leg when the woman bowed to her height, pressing her cheek into the fold of Camila’s skirt. The women chuckled softly, and Camila crouched down next to the child, one arm wrapped around her to keep her close while the other rubbed gently at her chest.

“Don’t you recognise her, nena?” she asked gently, a smile on her reddened face. 

“’puter,” Alba said, wide-eyed, shying towards her mother’s touch. Camila's smile widened, holding her close to her side.

“That’s right–you saw her in the computer, that’s my mama,” she nodded, encouragingly.

Video calls with Camila’s mom had been frequent, Frankie shying away more often than not until Emilia demanded to see him, the same scowl on her face that Camila had when something did not go the way she’d planned it. She’d given him the talk over video call, met Alba and Santi, too–they’d celebrated one of Camila’s birthdays with her on the screen, and eventually invited her over for the next one.

They hadn’t seen each other physically in years.

“Mama?” Alba frowned, looking from one to the other. Emilia was smiling, too, her eyes shimmering as she watched the scene play out. “Yaya?” Alba asked then, and Camila scrunched up her nose with a soft laugh.

“Yes, sweetling–your yaya,” she nodded again, dropping the hand that was resting over her chest before tilting her head. “Wanna say hi?”

“Hi,” the child said, wide eyes lifted towards the older woman while she still partially hid behind Camila’s skirt, fist tightened around the folds. Frankie chuckled from his position a few steps behind, shifting forward to rest his hand on top of Alba’s head.

“Cami was the same,” Emilia shook her head softly, looking up at Frankie, grinning almost conspiratorially. “Tímida,” Camila huffed, a pout pulling at her lips as she stood, picking Alba up with her. Her mother arched her eyebrows as if to highlight her point, then stepped forward, opening her arms. “Come here, you.”

Frankie shuffled forward, placing Emilia’s back down carefully before leaning into her embrace–she was quick to pull him down, the hug leaving him slightly breathless in the tight wrap of her arm, one hand patting his back right between his shoulders.

“Gracias, mijo,” she whispered, a kiss to his cheek that reminded him all too much of his mother’s. “Me la has traído de vuelta.”

His breath stuttered, gaze flicking up to Camila’s face–she held Alba against her side, the girl looking up at her face while she looked at them, eyes shimmering and face flushed. Most of all, I missed my mother, whispered in the nights they’d spend talking about the days before.

Before–that’s how their lives were timed now. Before and after them.

Before, Camila had left home for college, to find a job, and had gone back once in 15 years. Before she didn’t miss home, but she did miss her mother, especially those days when she felt particularly alone. Lovely. Left back. Frankie would wish they’d met earlier then, perhaps their lives would’ve been different then, both of them less beat down by it.

“But we wouldn’t have Alba then.”

Alba clung to her, wide-eyed, a crease between her brows that made her look so much like Camila as she looked at her first, then Frankie and Emilia. Emilia, still patting his back with words of gratitude he’d heard before through a screen. You brought her back to me, as in you brought her back to life.

“Come on now, let’s get home,” she said, walking up to them. Emilia mumbled something that sounded vaguely like impaciente, fondness in her voice as she released Frankie and turned around, hooking her arm with Camila’s. At the same time, she reached for her mother’s bag, gently nudging Alba towards her father. “You got her?”

“Yes,” he picked the child up, not wanting to risk the airport crowd. Alba’s arms fastened around his neck, a small pout forming on her face as she watched the other two walk ahead. “What is it, nena?”

“Is mama sad?” the little girl asked, her voice small. It took Frankie everything to not start laughing, the earnestness of her question catching him by surprise. “She’s crying,” she added, a justification of her pondering. He chuckled softly, leaving a quick kiss to her cheek.

“She’s not sad, sweetie–those are happy tears,” he explained softly, and the frown returned to the girl’s face. He reached up to smooth his thumb over the crease, something he’d do with Camila, too, when she focused too much on papers from work. “See, she hasn’t seen her mom in a long time, and now that they’re together again–that makes her happy.”

“Oh,” Alba kept pouting slightly, then tightened her hold on Frankie abruptly, bringing herself close to him. “I wanna keep seeing mama,” she said quickly, clinging to him. Frankie couldn’t help his laughter again, louder this time, to the point Camila looked over her shoulder with a questioning look. He smiled at her.

“Don’t worry, your mama’s not going anywhere.”

The backyard was lively with chatter and soft music, sun setting slow above their guests. Friends from Camila’s work would come and go, old friends from her college days who seemed to adore Frankie stayed longer, chatting mostly with her, or her mother, or Frankie himself, or the boys who, as always, had arrived first and would be the last to leave.

With Alba on her hip, a glass in her other hand, Camila laughed with Will and her whole face brightened up. Frankie smiled, silently walking up to them–Will was the first to notice him, reaching out for Alba and turning her around before she could spoil the surprise, but said nothing otherwise. Not until Frankie shifted forward, wrapping both his arms around Camila and pulling her back against his chest–she squealed and extended her arm as the drink spilled from the glass, letting out a laugh right after as he placed her back down.

“Let’s go bother your uncle Santi,” they heard Will tell Alba, while Camila turned to look up at Frankie. Her face was bright, cheeks flushed with laughter and smile lines etched at the corners of her eyes and mouth.

“Hi,” she hummed, the empty hand falling to his hip while she curled the other over his chest, glass now half-emptied held carefully between them. Frankie leaned in, leaving a quick peck to her mouth.

“Hi, cumpleañera,” she scrunched up her nose, following the slow rocking rhythm he’d set with his arms wrapped around her, fingertips tracing slow lines up and down her spine. “So–your mom just ambushed me.”

Camila’s eyes widened as she leaned into Frankie’s embrace, her head tilted back to look at him–her smile faltered slightly, brows knitting with worry as she mumbled a, “Oh, God.”

“Asking if Alba’s getting a sibling anytime soon,” he went on, slightly amused. Camila groaned softly, her head falling forward against his chest, her eyes screwing shut before the impact–chuckling softly, he wrapped his arms around her tighter, rubbing her back.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled with a light shake of her head. “I asked her not to, but–”

“Baby, it’s alright,” he pressed the words with a kiss to her temple, nudging her head to look back up. Eyes big again, a small pout formed on her lips as she did, and he left another kiss to her forehead before shifting slightly. “Have you ever thought about it?”

“Have you?” she asked tentatively, her voice unbelievably small. Frankie shrugged.

“Few times,” he admitted, and she tilted her head to the side just a little, inquisitive. “Alba’s almost four and–I don’t know, maybe it’d be nice for her to have a sibling. Not now, but maybe eventually.”

“Eventually?” it was her turn to chuckle, while a flush slowly crept up her neck–she looked around at the people around them, celebrating her, the ridiculous pile of birthday presents resting by the growing rosemary plant. “We’re not getting any younger, honey.”

“You calling me old?” she scoffed with a playful push against his chest that did nothing but make him laugh, his grip on her never faltering as he stepped back, bringing her with her and resuming the slow almost-dancing. “Is that what worries you?”

“Maybe,” she nibbled her bottom lip, taking a moment before looking back at him. “My mom had me when she was really young, and I always thought after 30 I just wouldn’t–” she sighed, leaning a little more into him, the hand holding the glass sliding up and past his shoulder, so they were standing chest to chest. He kept caressing her back slowly, tenderly, encouraging. “I did think about it.”

“You never said,” she sighed again.

“You forgot to feed yourself multiple times when we first started going out, Frankie,” he grimaced. “You were so worried for Alba, all the time, I just–I didn’t think you’d want to do that again.”

“Of course I was worried,” one of his hands traveled up her back, resting underneath her hair right between her shoulder blades. “I thought I was gonna have to do everything alone, I was terrified of fucking up.”

“Well, we could still do that,” she pointed out, and Frankie let out another laugh, shaking his head. “We could!” she protested, words cut short by the quick kiss he left on her lips.

“I don’t believe that–and I know you don’t, either,” he spun them around carefully, turning his head to where Alba was, playing with Santi under Will’s careful gaze, her laughter loud and contagious. “Look at her. I think we’re doing a pretty good job.”

“Yeah,” she rested her head against his chest, looking at them a moment longer. Though he couldn’t see it, he heard the soft smile in her next words. “Yes, you’re right.”

“We don’t have to make any decision now, baby,” he murmured, brushing the nape of her neck. “There’s no expiration date.”

“There is, actually,” with her cheek pressed against him, the words came out a little slurred. Frankie scoffed, the low rumble of his laughter bringing her closer, as close as she could get.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he chided, the feeling of her cheek being lifted with her smile widening making him shake his head. “Still, if one day we’d want to, we can try.”

“And if it doesn’t work out?” she didn’t move, her steps getting smaller, the music almost forgotten in favor of simply moving together. Frankie shrugged again, the movement small.

“Then it doesn’t work out,” again he guided her head back so she could meet his gaze. “I love our family as it is, Mila. You and Alba–this is more than I ever thought I’d get. I must’ve won some sort of existence lottery for having found you,” her smile returned, wide and a little trembling at the corners.

Lowering his head, his hand still cupping the nape of her neck, he kissed her tender and slow. Camila relaxed fully in his arms, her body almost limp in his hold as the arm over his shoulder curled around his neck, and he ignored the condensation dripping from the glass down to his shirt, deepening the kiss furthermore, making her lean backwards in a mock dipping motion. She chuckled into it, but didn’t tighten her hold.

She trusted him not to drop her.

“Although,” he mumbled, so close still she could feel the words twisting his lips even after he’d broken the kiss, “I am starting to think of giving it a try. Just now.”

“Now?” she giggled again, the tip of her tongue darting between her lips. He nodded.

“They won’t notice if we’re gone a few minutes, right?” brushing his lips across her cheek, he shifted until he was murmuring in her ear. “Bedroom’s just upstairs. Don’t even need to get you out of this dress.”

“Francisco,” though she was reprimanding him, he could still hear the laughter in her voice. She pulled her head back to look at him, cheeks red, and he grinned. “Behave,” she scolded.

“It was worth a try,” he shrugged, and her laughter returned more vibrant than before, head tilting back as he straightened them both. “Come on, Benny’s dying to give you his present–I haven’t seen him this excited in ages.”

next

[pennyserenade]

NO NORMAN ROCKWELL PAINTING

pairing: frankie morales x female oc, frankie morales x female unnamed oc rating: m (mature) tags: fluff/comfort, some angst, talk about depression, talk of sex, some language  word count: 3.5k summary: when frankie asks her a question she never expected him to she looks to the past. or: frankie asks her to marry him and she revisits all the moments in their relationship where she would’ve said yes in a heartbeat.  a/n: i just found this in my drafts and finished it up. it’s been a very long time since i wrote these two - from the losing dogs series - but i hope you all enjoy it <3

The first time he kissed her bare collarbone with his warm lips, and touched the small of her back with his large hand, she thought: I needed someone to do that. 

A body that has gone too long thinking of love only as an option is usually the body that needs it the most. Accordingly, because she had for so long thought she could survive without it, hers folded into the warmth of his arms and the crevices of his half-together life before she should’ve let it. 

She is lucky. Frankie has handled her body - and by extension, her heart - with generosity and care. The first kiss on the collarbone was a precursor, not a full stop; she is happy to say that he is brimming with love for her, and that all of his kisses feel that comforting, especially on bad days. 

He has been more patient and considerate than most have been with her. He could say that he fell into her life before he should’ve but he wouldn’t, because Frankie is kind. He is a warm smile in the morning, and he is the man who holds her hand underneath the table at restaurants. Even before they allowed themselves to want each other, Frankie showed up. He held her in showers while she cried and whispered I love you when it was such a foolish thing to say, because it was the one thing he knew he would always have to give. 

God only knows why, after all they’ve been through, she wouldn’t say the one thing she knows he needs, and the one thing she knows she could give. Just a simple yes. When he got down on his knees on the green grass of their shared background, and pulled out a ring too expensive for his salary, she should’ve said it in seven different shades of ecstatic. She should’ve kissed him on the lips and weeped. Anything. But she had looked at the ring in that little box, and she looked at his face and she had paused for too long. What came out, when it did come out, was “Maybe.” 

Life is a whirlwind of poor decision making and tripping over one’s own feet. They know this better than most. Frankie has had his fair share of fuck-ups: anger he gave way to when he shouldn’t have; times when he said yes when he always meant no; second guessing the good things and never the bad; and entertaining lifestyles not completely within his reach. She too knows her fuck-ups: the bad boyfriends she loved too long and the good ones she loved not at all; those bad years, which she would always feel had undone what had made her good by being mentally unwell; and the reluctant pause and subsequent ‘maybe’ she gave Frankie when he had asked her to be his wife. 

It wounded him. She could see it immediately in the fallen expression that flashed across his face when he recognized she hadn’t said the enthusiastic “yes” he imagined she would’ve. Now they’ve shared six whole days of near silent meals and quiet evenings that say too much. When they do speak, it is the talk of people who haven’t shared many years of life together. They are conversations that extend mostly to “Do you know where I put my coat?” and “I’m going to work now.” They remind her of the years when they played at not caring. She hates herself for doing that to them. 

It would’ve been yes if she was a more perfect person, but she isn’t and he knows this. And the six days of silence haven’t been borne out of her hesitance, but because she knows him too: if she had said yes directly after the maybe, he would’ve thought she did it because she felt she had to. If she had said it during the five days that followed it, he wouldn’t have understood or wanted it.

He is angry, upset, hurt. The ring is shoved under piles and piles of underwear in his drawer, and he only comes to bed when he is too tired to stay in the living room. Sometimes, when he doesn’t think she’s paying attention, he stares at her like she’s a puzzle he’ll never figure out and then he looks down at the ground, frowning. 

If only he knew how it has been six days of nonstop thought for her. She has prepared her I’m sorry speech for every situation conceivable: before work, after work, catching him in the hallway, the moment he crawls into bed at night, the dinner table. The words have been rehearsed and rewritten and beaten to death. Until today, they’ve always sounded wrong, slightly off. 

Today she tries her hand at pure and honest exasperation: “Francisco I know you’re angry with me, and you’re right to be, but I am sorry. If I could go back and take those words from my mouth and put the right ones in, I would. I want to marry you and I don’t know what stopped me from saying that.”

The spoon he stirs the cream into his coffee with continues on, but the muscles in his back seem to relax. She thought it would be easier to say that with his back turned to her, but not seeing his reaction immediately worries her–makes her feel like she did when she said maybe. Poor. Foolish. Out of step and dizzy. 

“Frankie,” she pleads, her voice giving way to worry. 

He turns around, eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t know what to say,” he tells her. He doesn’t sound angry or mad, just honest. Her stomach turns viciously and she regrets that second cup of coffee. 

“Do you still want to marry me?”

Frankie takes a careful sip of his coffee and she feels like he’s doing it slowly, deliberately. She watches his mouth, sees how the liquid goes down his throat. “I want you to want to marry me,” he tells her, “and I’m sorry if it feels like I’ve been angry with you. I have been but I’m not anymore. Not really. I know I shouldn’t have asked you that, especially because we’ve never really talked about it. I just thought...”

She frowns. “Yes you should’ve. You thought right.”

“Then why did you say no?” he asks, frustrated, placing a hand on the counter. He leans back against it. 

“I said maybe.”

“That’s right: maybe.” He takes another long drink of his coffee, staring at the hardwood floors.  “You’re allowed to tell me no. I think the fact that you said maybe is what made me so angry with you, like you couldn’t even trust me to handle no. I know now that’s probably not the truth, but I kept thinking about it like that.”

“But it wasn’t no, Frankie. It was yes but I was…I don’t know. Shocked.” She shrugs remorsefully. “You know it hasn’t been easy between us–or for us in general. There are some things you learn to forget about after a while, and I think that was one of those ideas I had parted with when it came to you. You’ve already been married and I don’t know–I felt like you had enough of it for a while.”

He smiles, showing a hint of his dimple. “I’m feeling a bit like an ass right now, talking to you about it.”

She laughs. “I love you, Francisco and I want to marry you. I’ve said yes to you a thousand times in my head.” 

“Wish I could’ve been there,” he jokes, pushing off the counter. She scoffs, throwing the paper towel next to her at the table. He dodges it, watching them bounce off the cabinet. They begin laughing with each other, happy laughter, laughter that spills from their lips and heals the cracks created by anger. It fills the kitchen with warmth, like thawing out the ice after a bad winter. 

She looks up at him laughing and she knows that she wants him, that she always will. 

She knows that she always has. 

———

The summer night sweltered outside of her cracked bedroom window. Their naked bodies, warm and damp with sweat, pressed into each other. Frankie’s arm held her body upwards, his arms wrapped just below her breasts, pressing her back into his front. He groaned quietly as he thrusted into her. She tugged at his curly, unruly hair, and kissed the side of his mouth clumsily when it tried to meet hers from an awkward position. The crickets from the yard filled the spaces that their moans, shared and separate, did not. It was too early for the words ‘I love you’ to spill from their mouths the way it would later,’ but it occurred to her at that moment - two months after she had first met him in that bar -  that it was growing inside of her. 

Frankie. Sometimes when she was alone, the idea of him excited her. Not sexually, but romantically; she enjoyed kissing him, enjoyed the way he pulled her close, held her like he was then. They had agreed that what they were sharing was sex and friendship - they laughed over beers and pretended that they didn’t kiss until they were - but she understood that when they were together like this, a shift occurred. He held her so tightly, and pressed into her so slowly at times she imagined he felt his loneliness more deeply than she did hers. The sex brought them pleasure but something else, too. Understanding. 

When he filled the condom inside of her, he nibbled at her earlobe and his warm breath fanned across her goosebumped skin. Closing her eyes tightly, she imagined the sound of it rising in his throat, spilling out lovingly: I love you. And when he put his fingers between her thighs and rubbed her clit without guidance, she felt it rise in her own. But she didn’t say it, because she knew she didn’t mean it. It was only a want, a silly desire she had played out with other men, too. 

It was only when Frankie held her close on between the cotton sheets - their bodies now damp - and told her that he went to meetings with men who had said they found God, that she knew she wanted him differently than she had other men. He confessed that it made him angry when they said that; that he couldn’t understand how someone could go through something like he had and feel like God was the answer. Frankie admitted that he was too much of a coward to really abandon the idea all together. He was Catholic before. Frankie had told this to her without making light of it. In her bedroom, he felt he had the right to his emotions without needing to laugh at them first. 

She thought, as she aimlessly stroked his hand, the one with the tattoo: So he wouldn’t want a church wedding. 

That was the first time she knew she would say yes. 

——

Black-and-white movies made Frankie feel anxious. As a child his mother had sat by the television and repeated the words that fell from the lips of the actors in them. It was her heavy accent that frustrated her sometimes to tears, but he thought at the time it was these movies with no color. He would sit on the couch and watch her struggle with the words and when she would stop her echoing of the dialogue, he would know that she had given up for the time being. 

Even long after he had learned that she had done this to learn better English, and that the tears were products of frustration, he found the movies still discomforted him. The worlds, so devoid of color, made him bounce his leg and remember every syllable his mother had tripped over in front of him. 

Frankie had never told her about this bit of his childhood, not until his stomach could handle the movies without turning and his leg had long stopped bouncing. 

When she was sad, she loved to watch them. They were colorless worlds with colorful characters and they were simple: you moved from point a to point b in the plot with little thought needed. She liked to listen to the syrupy sound of a made up accent fall from the lips of people who didn’t seem quite real, too. The actors were more like fairy tale creatures than tangible beings, people with showy names that were more important than their characters. She never knew the name of the characters, only the actors who played them. He learned them: Bette Davis, Henry Fonda, James Stewart, Ginger Rogers. 

One night as The Lady Eve played on the TV in her bedroom, Frankie laughed at one of the jokes. “I used to hate these,” he confessed, laying his head across her lap, “But I’m kinda fond of them now. They’re so stupid.”

When he said that, she nodded, smilingly. Frankie said stupid affectionately, like she did. He meant: they make me laugh, even though I shouldn’t. 

After the movie ended and she ended up crying because she needed it, Frankie told her about his mother and about how he had only just recently begun to like the movies. “Because of you,” he had added, hoping it would make her feel better. It did. 

That day, as she curled into his body, she imagined that he would make a good husband. She knew that if he ever asked, the answer would be yes. 

—

Led Zeppelin. Bob Seger. The Rolling Stones. Cheap Trick. Creedence Clearwater Revival. Prince. 

These bands and artists used to belong solely to her. She had a vast collection of records she had picked up over the years, and gradually, as Frankie found himself taking more space in her life, they became his bands and artists too. He flicked through the collection with deliberation every Sunday morning he spent with her, adding comments and asking her questions about all the various things he found. Jokingly she called this time “Frankie’s College Hour” because he reminded her so much of one of those college radio hosts with too many unfiltered thoughts and too much time to himself. 

That Sunday morning Frankie had his head between her thighs as the Janis Joplin record he picked out spinned. 

Sometimes it happened like that: on the couch, in the daylight, when both of them were either too sad or too happy to deny they wanted to be touched. Today it was too happy. He had picked out the record after she had made him breakfast, and they had sat talking about the music. He had realized just how very much he liked her, as he sometimes did, and she could see it in his eyes. Frankie didn’t want to be her friend, so he did the next best thing he knew to do, aside from confessing: he spread her legs and pressed his tongue against her. 

When he made her cum to the sound of Janis Joplin, she turned her head and saw their discarded breakfast plates on her table. At that moment, she knew that if he asked her to be his wife, she would’ve said yes. That Sunday morning was so domestic, she wanted it to be real. 

——

She hated his friends. Well, most of them anyways. There was one, named Ben. Benny, Frankie called him. She didn’t mind him so much because it was obvious how much Frankie adored him. Frankie hadn’t come to her with much: a truck, a kid, an ex-wife, and Ben. She gave way to Ben because she understood Ben came with Frankie, whether she liked it or not. 

One night she had gone to Frankie’s house for dinner and Ben was there too, watching football with him. She had met him a handful of times before but she had never really sat and talked to him. Over dinner he had told her a handful of amusing stories about their time in the service, and she had managed to forget this man was the one who Frankie had endured most of his troubles with. 

It became obvious later that night that Frankie hadn’t told him what kind of relationship it was they shared. Benny had asked her whether she had a boyfriend or not after they had chatted for a little while. She had said no, partially because it was true and partially because Frankie hadn’t told someone so close to him what she was to him. That hurt her.  

He had asked her to come see a boxing match of his sometime and she had said, smiling too warmly, that she would love to. When Benny had left, Frankie pretended it hadn’t happened. It was easy for him to disregard things like that, especially when it came to Benny and her. Frankie viewed Ben as being kiddish, someone who needed guidance, and he viewed her as too kind, too capable of saying what pleased people. He hadn’t expected her to really go to that match, just as much as he hadn’t assumed Benny to really be flirting; it was just what they did. 

The crash never came but a realization did, when he really did run into her at one of those matches. She looked so pretty, wearing a summer dress and strappy sandals, holding a beer. Benny had gotten them seats next to each other, somewhere near the front, and every time Ben staggered or a blow landed to his head, she flinched closer and closer to Frankie. 

Frankie could’ve been angry, could've been possessive and bitter. A part of her hoped he would be, even though she knew it was wrong to want that. But Frankie said nothing. He took them out to a burger joint afterwards, and paid because Benny had won his match and only managed to get one busted eyebrow in the meantime. Benny had sat next to her in the booth, Frankie on the other side. 

The only signal Frankie gave her the entire night was a barely perceptible shake of the head when Benny got up to go to the bathroom. Frankie wasn’t mean, didn’t get a hard look in his eye as he looked at her. He was apologetic, pleading. Please, the look told her. And then he asked her how she liked the match, like nothing had happened. 

Frankie went home with her that night, after he had dropped Benny off. They had sex in the garage, unable even to climb out of his truck to get into her bed. It was not sex that was quick and harsh, like it could sometimes be. Their bodies came together slowly and his mouth almost never parted from hers. After she had told him she was sorry for being such a bitch to him. He had told her, softly, affectionately, “It’s okay, honey. I know. I get it, and I’m sorry too.”

And he meant it. 

She wanted to marry him so badly, it had created an ache in her. 

——

She takes the blue box from his hand giddily, making sure the emotion is apparent on her face as she opens it up this time. Frankie laughs, shaking his head. “Oh, c’mon, don’t make a mockery of it. I’ll put it back in the underwear drawer.”

She smiles as she puts it on her finger, liking the way it looks despite the fact that she doesn’t exactly love how much she knows it must’ve cost him. This is months of his life on her finger, a luxury he couldn't afford but did. It is one more sacrifice he made willingly, happily, stupidly in his love for her. 

“Do you like it?” he asks quietly, staring down at her finger. He holds it between his own fingers for a moment, inspecting the ring. “I can get a different one if you don’t like it.”

She looks up at him, sees the vulnerability in his expression, and her heart softens for him once again. “Oh Frankie,” her voice cracks. “ I love it. Really. Thank you.”

He brings her hand up to his lips and kisses the inside of her palm. “You sure you really want to marry me?” he mumbles against her skin.

She nods her head without a second thought. It comes to her just as it did all those other times and she knows it to be true.

 “I’ve never been more certain of anything, Francisco.” 

“That’s good,” he whispers, the grin meeting his dark brown eyes. “That’s so good, really, because I don’t know what I’d be without you, honey, and I don’t want to know.”

“I know,” she tells him softly, because she gets it too. She wishes she was better with words because if she was, she would tell him that he was always the man she would marry. Instead she says, “Thank you so much, Francisco. Thank you.”

The way the skin around his eyes crinkles tells her that he does get it, though and she knows just looking at him that she will want to marry him many more times before she actually does. 

That body that thought it could live without love now survives because of it. And she thinks: It is good to be alive. 

[romanarose]

Take Your Time: Chapter 1

Frankie "Catfish" Morales X Fem! Oc (Jana Fernandez)

Chapter 2

Series masterlist

Fic summary: Told through the present and series of flashbacks, Frankie and Jana, his ex-girlfriend and the mother of his daughter, Rosie, begin spending more time together as Frankie attempts to get sober, and Jana becomes friends with the girlfriend of Frankie's best friend. They both say they never stopped loving each other, is the timing right for them to finally have a life together?

Chapter summary: 6 months into his sobriety, Frankkie is still struggling. When Will, Benny and Santi are all out of town and he needs help, he knows he can still call on Jana.

Takes place within Leather and Lace in what I call "TF Romanaverse" but it is NOT necessary to read LaL beforehand. You'll be more familiar with the Oc's such as Jana, Laci, and a little bit of Lorelei, but I wrote this series specifically to be read separately incase you don't read Santi fics, that series didn't interest you, or the content was too dark. Speaking fo which, read the mfing warnings.

Warnings!: Self harm (not a suicide attempt but sure looks like one) cutting, blood, puke, excessive drinking, mentions of drug use and addiction but no more relapses, Frankie feeling miserable. Graffic depiction of the wounds as first aid is being applied. Do noooooot actually do this for first aid. Get them to a hospital. But this is fiction.

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Answering the phone at midnight, Jana already swung both legs over the bed and began pulling socks on. “Frankie? What’s going on?”

“M’sorry. Woke you.” Frankie’s slurred voice answered.

“No you didn’t, the shelter had me on overnights last week, remember?.” Frankie had Rosie, their daughter, most of the week, albeit they stayed with Santi and Laci. While Frankie’s recovery was going well, Jana was still nervous with several days in a row, worried it might overwhelm him. Laci watched Rosie when Frankie worked, and if both were busy, Santi had taken her, impressing Laci very much with his skills with the toddler.

“Sorry” Frankie repeated. “Everyone else is gone. Didn’t know who else to call.”

 “You can always call me, Francisco. What did you take?”

“Jus’ whiskey right now, but that’s why m’callin’ you” 

Phone to here ear, she carefully bundled up a sleeping Rosa in a few blankets, the mild Florida winter making for less of a need for a full coat, especially when she’d have to take it off to buckle her into the car seat anyway. “Whiskey we can work with, honey.” Quickly, Jana back tracked as she headed out the door. “We can work if you relapse too, okay? Never be afraid to call me or the guys, we’re always here for you.”

 Jana had gone back and forth with her feelings on Santi for a number of years, mostly when she was still dating Frankie. Frankie would follow that man to the end of the earth, and pretty much had. That trip to Columbia had been the nail in the coffin for a relationship already strained from addiction, and Jana held it against Santiago for a long while. In more recent times, however, she’s come to see him as an ally for Frankie. Santi and his girl, Laci, as well as Will and Benny had all pulled together this last year as Francisco tried to sober up for perhaps the first real time. Although Jana was not with Frankie anymore, she would always love him. They hadn’t broken up for lack of love, or even for lack of trying, but for the things coke can do to a person, especially a person who recently came into a shit ton of money and nothing to do when his daughter is gone but get high.

“I’m waking Rosa” He sounded sleepy.

“No,” Jana couldn’t help but laugh, looking at her curly-haired daughter, out cold in the car seat. “That girl started sleeping through the night at one month old, she’s a miracle child”

“Yeah. Yeah she is. She deserves someone better.”

She got in the car, hooking up the phone to the speaker. “Stop. You’re a good dad, Frankie, a great dad. I’ve never seen a man play dolls with a kid for 2 hours straight, she adores you. You just need a little help”

“Yeah” It was quiet.

“Frank, hey, don’t fucking go to sleep, we’ll be right there.”

“Don’t wan’ her t’see me like this”

“She won’t, I promise. What room are you in?”

“Bathroom”

“Okay, I’ll lay her down in her crib before I even come to the bathroom okay?”

“Promise?”

“As long as you stay awake, yes.”

“Fine”

“Okay”

Wanting to make sure she paid attention to the road, her nighttime vision not greatJana didn’t talk much, only when she thought he was falling asleep. She parked on the wrong side of the road, quickly grabbing Rose (how did this child sleep so much?), calling to Frankie she was here, and laid her down in the crib as promised. Her room at her uncle Santi’s had a toddler bed, as she was quickly growing, taking after her dad, but this would do fine in a pinch. With her heart about to burst out of her chest, she ran into the bathroom, expecting to find him puking or passed out on the floor. Instead, to her horror, she found him in his underwear, slumped up against the tub and the wall, blood on his arms and legs.

“Frank!”

Thinking quickly, Jana grabbed one of his towels and wrapped it around the two deep cuts on the inside of his wrist and the one on the outside. There were a few others on his legs, but it was clear the wrist was more imminent a danger. “I’m calling an ambulance, hold on” She instructed as she placed his hand over the towel. “No” Frankie mumbled. “No ambulance” “You tried to kill yourself Frankie!” Jana shouts, the smell of alcohol and puke was raw in the bathroom, permeating her nose and she vaguely registered his crumbled up shirt as the source of the vomit, and assumed he must’ve thrown up on himself in the binge. Frank grabbed her hand, finally looking at her. “No, I didn’t” Eyes wide and panicked, she looked at him intently, gritting through her tensed mouth. “Then what the hell is this!”

Closed his eyes again. “I don’t know. Wanted to feel something, punish myself, I dunno���

“Hey. hey.” Gently tapping his cheek, Jana kept him conscious. “You need to stay awake.”

“No hospital” He reiterated. “They’ll lock me up and I swear to god this is only going to get worse.”

Jana considered for a moment, then reached for her phone. “Fine, but I’m calling Will” The older Miller was as close to a doctor as any of them knew, starting as a combat medic before he quickly rose in the ranks and eventually joined Delta Force as Tom handpicked his team. Throughout the years, they had called on him in lieu of an actual doctors visit, as the man kept up with trainings and taking classes. He could probably out do a doctor at this point, but much of his training was in formal. Frankie did not like this plan either, shaking his head. “No, they’re out of town visiting their cousin or something. Don’t wanna bug em” “It’s Will or an ambulance.” Jana gave him his choices, but as Frankie seemed to struggle to choose between being hospitalized or being a bother to the people that mean most to him, Jana calmed her tone, taking Frankie’s flushed and puffy face in her hands. “Francisco, Will loves you, so do Benny, Santi and Lace, so do I. We want to help you. You aren’t a bother, you aren’t a burden, Will would want me to call him.” Dodging her eyes, he gave a quick nod, consenting to calling Will. Jana pressed the facetime option on Will’s contact page and within two rings his face appeared on the screen. “Jana? What's wrong? Is Rosie okay? Are you?” He had clearly been sleeping, and it warmed Jana’s heart that he answered so fast, worried something happened to her or Rosa. That’s what she liked about Frankie’s friends. In the past, she could barely get the care she wanted from the men she dated, and their friends barely acknowledged her, if not being flat-out creepy or making racial comments. The Millers and Santiago, for all her and Santi bicker, had been nothing but respectful and welcoming to her, and she liked to think she welcomed back. “We’re fine, it’s… here” Jana flipped the camera to show Frankie. The poor man looked humiliated, but she’d handle that later. “He won’t go to the hospital and insists it wasn’t an attempt, I need you to look at them and tell me if we can handle it here.” Will was a combat medic. He’d seen way worse, hell, Jana knew. Hell, he’d seen worse on himself and his friends, including Frankie, but he was obvious not prepared for this, and despite his ability to keep calm in this emergency, she heard his voice shake, just a bit. “Okay.” Scanning up the cuts on his legs, Will confirmed those weren’t a risk, but he had seen the bloody towel around his friends wrist, and told her to unwrap it. She had to pad the blood away for him to even see how bad it was.

“Fish, you should really get stitch-” “No” Frankie was having none of it. Jana turned the camera back to her. “Can I take care of it here?” “Jana, he should really-”

“Yes or no” Will sighed. “Can you give him stitches?”

Jana glanced to Frankie, bleeding heavily and looking absolutely wrecked. She wanted him in the hospital, in the safety of doctors but she also knew he had seen a lot, and hospitals made him anxious. Plus, there was no doubt in her mind that for someone who valued quality time so heavily, a mandatory lock up for a suicide attempt, or whatever this was, would only make him worse.

“Yeah, I think so. ”

Will was not thrilled, but allowed it. “Go get his first aid kit, I’ll walk you through it.” All the guys had ‘first aid kits’ that were the size of small hospitals, thanks to Will. He instructed Frankie to keep his arm raised and gently keep pressure on the wounds. Jana knelt beside him. “Can you stay like this for me? While I get what you need?”

Eyes wide and wet, he looked up at her an nodded.

She kissed his forehead and she got up. “Good job, I’ll be right back.” Taking the phone with her, she went to the kitchen where she knew his first aid kit was. “What’s he on?” Will asked. “Just liquor, Helluva lot of it, and whiskey if I’m smelling it right.” “He’s been sober from coke for six months, maybe it’s time he stops drinking too.” “One bridge at a time, Will. He still has cravings, let’s give him a break.” Jana continued gathering what  she needed and washing her hands thoroughly. “He tried to kill himself while drunk, Jana!” She looked directly at the camera. “How about you deal with your alcoholic brother, I’ll deal with Frankie, okay?” Jana snapped. A pause. She knew she wasn’t supposed to bring that up. “Sorry-”

“Let’s get him stitched up, we can talk about this later.” Sighing, she rinsed her hands and turned the faucet off with her elbow. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m just a bit freaked out.”

“I understand. We should probably talk when Ben and I are back, discuss it with Santi.” Jana wasn’t sure how she felt about talking about Frankie and his problems when he wasn’t around. “Yeah, with Frankie.”

Will nodded on screen. “With Frankie.”

Frankie, of course, had things for stitches, the over-anxious man he was. With Will’s guidance, the cuts only needed on each, enough to close the wound a bit. The bleeding slowed, and after disinfecting and bandaging the wound, and thanking Will (as well as promising to update him throughout the night), Jana found herself propped up in the bathroom wall, covered in blood, Frankie’s head on her lap as she played with his hair. Her instructions were to keep him awake for a while, since he lost so much blood, but this was proving difficult as the alcohol ran through his system.

“Where did Santi and Laci go? Laci didn’t mention going anywhere this weekend.” She asked. Santi’s girlfriend had begun volunteering at the women’s shelter Jana worked in, and the pair had become fast friends. Frankie mumbled, trying to stay awake. “It was snowing somewhere up north, Laci missed the snow, so he took her up there to some fancy hotel for a few days. Private hot tub, rose petals, room service. Whole shabang.” Jana couldn’t help but smile and chuckle at that. “She’s really got that boy whipped, huh?”

To her relief he smiled back. “Yeah but he’s got her wrapped around his finger too.” “They're really cute”

“Yeah, they are.” Frankie’s smile faded. “I’m sorry. That’s what you deserved. Someone who could be like that for you. Take care of you.”

“Frank…” He shut his eyes, and Jana thumbed away a tear that ran down her cheek. “Honey, no. I don’t need what Laci needs. I don’t need to be taken care of like that. You cared for me in all the ways I needed you too, and you continue to provide for me and our baby. You were a good boyfriend, you really were. I was really, really happy with you, that’s why we decided to have Rosa” Jana leaned down to press a kiss into his hair as his eyes remained locked shut. “You gave me the most precious thing in my life, and if I didn’t love you enough already, I’d love you simply for that. Look at me, sweetie.” With a soft touch, she coaxed his eyes open. “I love you, I always loved you and I never stopped loving you. I promised you that when I left. You are an excellent father and a loving, good, kind friend. If I can’t be with you as a partner, I’m happy to be your friend, for the rest of our lives.”

Looking at her, Frankie nodded. “I never stopped loving you either. I’m sorry. I know i’ve said it 1000 times but I’m sorry. For the coke, for how I acted, for going to Columbia when you told me not to, for everything that happened after…” “It’s okay, honey, I forgave you a long time ago. I know as well as you do that addiction is an evil illness” “It doesn’t mean I didn’t make mistakes-” “I know, you made mistakes and so did I. It’s okay. You’re not a bad person, Francisco.” He closed his eyes again, wincing this time. “Oh fuck.” Jana, having been through enough nights of the two of them drinking together in their youth, especially back in the army, knew what that meant. “Okay, up.” She helped him get over the toilet bowl, rubbing his bare back as he threw up. “Pope’s never gonna leave town again. Gonna start camping outside the house” “Pope can suck my dick, Frankie” Jana replied, an smiled when she heard him chuckle. “I’m serious.” But she was laughing too. “If you need him back off a bit, I’ll talk to him.” Frankie shook his head. “I like… I like having them around, I just don’t want to interrupt his life.” “You aren’t, I promise. He loves you very much, and much as he likes to pretend he’s a rolling stone, I think it’s become apparent with Laci around he’s a caretaker at heart.” Frankie mumbles “Like Han Solo”

This causes Jana to laugh. “Yeah, yeah like Han Solo.” “I’m sorry” Frankie spoke between dry heaves. “I’m really trying to sober up.” “Take your time. God knows you held my hair back enough times, Azúcar, I’m just returning the favor.”

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“You exist, Frankie. You don’t have to earn me, who you are is enough.”

Jana got Frankie set up on the living room floor, plush carpeting and the blankets she laid down giving enough comfort while simultaneously keeping him on a firm surface. After getting him to rinse out his mouth and drinking some water, he was put in the recovery position (confirming to Will via text that it was done) and she covered him in a warm blanket, after putting a pair of pj’s over him, to spare him a bit of dignity if nothing else. For the next half hour, at 2 AM, she cleaned up the bathroom of blood and vomit, showered his blood off her and helped herself to his clothes, threw hers and Frankies messy clothes in the wash with the bloodied towels, redressed his wounds as he slept, and did the dishes for good measure. One less thing for him to worry about in the morning. And he would worry in the morning. They got through that hard part, but it was all far from over. Jana laid beside him, getting under the covers on the hard floor and got just close enough to where she’d wake if he started to choke or vomit or anything, but didn’t want to encroach on his personal space.

It was far from over, to be sure, but Jana planned on working with him, Will, Benny and Santi, and being there for him every step of the way. He wasn’t her boyfriend anymore, but he’s always been the love of her life.

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I knoooooow an intense start to a series!!!! But I really hope you guys like it! LMK if you'd like to be added to the tag list!!! @milkymoon2483 @trinkets01 @welcometostayingawake

[of-house-atreides]

Supernatural Frontier | Chapter 2: The Cabin in the Woods

Series Summary: Former Delta Force soldiers, Santi, Frankie, Will and Benny, meet with fellow hunters, Dean and Sam Winchester, and team up for a rescue mission. Their objective: kill the demons, destroy their army, and save as many people as they can. Little did they know they'd find an angel in the pits of Hell, and that they'd have to put their lives on the line to save hers.

Chapter Summary: The girl wakes up. Santi warms up to her.

Pairings: TF!boys x OFC

A/N: Please note that I am French so there might be some mistakes here and there.

Words: 7089

Warnings: PTSD, nudity, mentions of blood, eventual poly relationship...

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 (coming soon...)

Tags: @moonchild-cupcake @littlenosoul

Please leave some feedback and reblog if you like it!

The feeling was too great. It overwhelmed him. He didn’t know it. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. He thought it was just exhaustion. The adrenaline leaving his body. The horrors he had witnessed haunting his mind, the evil sticking to his skin. He had plunged in the dark and had returned with its treasure. Like a pirate, killing and maiming his way to the hold of a haunted ship. What had he been fighting for all these years if not for her? She was all the answers to all his questions. Everything he’d been through seemed worth it now. She washed all his regrets away, erased them from his memory.

Will had always believed he had left the war behind, not for the hopes of a better life, but to put his skills to better use. He wasn’t killing other human beings anymore, he was killing real monsters, real demons. He was making his own choices. Every time he pulled the trigger now, he did it because he chose to, because he needed to kill a monster to save a person. Not because his generals had put someone’s name on a list. It wasn’t just his country he was protecting anymore, but the world, the people. He had always been good at his job, been good at death, but he didn’t want to do it any longer. He couldn’t. Hunting was just another kind of job, another kind of death. One that wasn’t as bad. He had seen what humans were capable of, and it had broken him. And sometimes, when he would look in the mirror, he would wonder if he was just as bad as the people he had been ordered to kill. Sometimes, he wondered if he would see them again one day, with black eyes, just like he wondered if he would one day look back at his reflection and see only darkness in his own. But still, he hunted. He hunted to help the vulnerable, to rescue the defenseless, to save the innocents. He did it all. He did it all to get to her. She was it. He knew it the moment he stepped foot in that room and laid eyes on her. She was the most vulnerable, the most defenseless, the most innocent.

She was his redemption.

Benny kept a close eye on his brother, checking in the rearview mirror if he had moved at all. They had been driving for hours, and yet Will hadn’t moved a muscle. He was holding her, her head resting on his lap, his eyes focused on her thin face, his large hand cupping her cheek. Every breath she took he took with her, like she was allowing him to breathe.

He was waiting for her to wake up and yet he hoped she wouldn’t. He wanted her to be in a safe, warm place when she opened her eyes, wanted her to be able to run from him, from them, and see they weren’t going to hold her down and tie her up. He didn’t want her to feel trapped by the size of the car, or scared by the dark of the night. He wanted to be able to give her clothes and access to a bathroom. He wanted to give her a sense of safety, her dignity, and her humanity back to her. He wanted her to trust him.

He wondered how bad it would be, once she woke up. Because he knew she would be scared. He knew it would take time for her to trust him, and his friends. It wouldn’t take days or weeks, or months. It would take time. And patience. And he would do anything to make it happen as soon as possible.

The feedback of the walkie startled the two brothers. They jerked on their seat then sighed out of annoyance. Will let out a little laugh. On the other side, Santi’s voice was tired and low, probably because Frankie was sleeping next to him.

“They rent cabins not far from here.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Benny nodded. “We hunted a Wendingo in those woods once.”

“Fuck, don’t remind me,” Santi chuckled, earning the same reaction from Will. “Let’s see if they have a cabin for us.”

Finally coming to a stop, the three men jumped out of their vehicle with unspoken relief. They stretched out their arms and legs as quietly as they could in the cold silent night. Benny had to hold back a very loud tired sound that almost escaped his throat as he extended his arms above his head. Frankie was still sleeping on the passenger seat, his forehead resting against the foggy window of the car. Santi didn’t waste any more time and went in to ask the dreadful question. Every second he was inside was agony to his weary friends.

“I don’t think I can get back in the truck,” Benny whined, almost praying for a miracle.

Will turned back to check on the girl, still sleeping on the back seats, before turning back towards his brother.

“Me neither.”

The door of the front desk opened to show Santi holding up a key like it was a medal won after a great victory.

“Thank God!” Benny laughed, releasing a shaky breath, almost falling to his knees.

“How many beds?” is the first thing Will asked.

His friend smirked, ready to defy his eternal pessimism.

“Six.”

Benny straightened up as his breath caught in his throat, while his brother raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Six?!”

“And that’s not the best part.”

“What?” Will said, doubtful he could do better than that.

“Ask me how many bathrooms there are.”

“How many bathrooms?”

“Five.”

“You’re kidding,” Will shook his head.

“Nope. It was the last cabin they had.”

“And how much is that costing us?”

Benny rolled his eyes, annoyed by his brother‘s restless negativity. Santi dug his hand into his jeans pocket and took out a credit card in the name of Hector White.

“It’s not costing us anything.”

“Come on, Will, aren’t you tired enough?” his brother scolded as he put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s just go to bed. Wait… how many double beds?”

“Four.”

“Ha-ha!” Benny jumped, like he’d just won the lottery. “Perfect, let’s go.”

The younger brother got back into his truck, gesturing for his brother to hurry up and for Santi to lead the way. It only took a few minutes to get to the cabin, but those minutes were the longest. Benny could already see himself in bed and sleeping for the next few days. The little wooden house was the furthest away from the road, deep into the forest, but that didn’t scare the hunters. When they parked the trucks on the designated spots, Frankie was awake. Their relief could be seen on their faces. It was such a comfort to know they wouldn’t be hiding in a cheap motel, sleeping in uncomfortable beds and taking cold showers for the near future. That cabin was a luxury they couldn’t usually afford, both for financial and practical reasons. And it put Will’s mind at ease as well, knowing the girl would have a safe and clean place to wake up to. The last thing he wanted was for her to think she was trapped in another tiny, smelly, dirty prison.

He carefully wrapped his coat around her before he carried her out of the vehicle. Quickly, he walked up the stairs and crossed the porch to enter their new temporary home. It was luxurious indeed. From the outside, the place just looked like an oversized log cabin one could find in the woods, dusty and dirty, stocking the usual hunting and camping gear. The kind of place people owned on the side, to escape the city for the weekend. But, perhaps, it would look better in the daylight. However, in the inside, it looked like a palace. Or at least, as close to a palace they would ever see. Will almost felt ashamed to walk on the beautiful rug with his muddy and bloody boots.

The entrance was a large square. The hardwood floor was covered by a giant beige rug, and in the middle stood a high glass square table on which had been placed a vase of obviously fake white lilies. Above it hung a chandelier with candle shaped lightbulbs. The walls were adorned with paintings not unusual for a vacation home. They weren’t unpleasant to look at, but no one really did want to look at them. He was surrounded by three archways. The one on his right led to the living room. It looked pretty comfortable, especially with that big TV, but that wasn’t what he needed at the moment. The one on the left led to the kitchen, and the one before him led to a staircase and a hallway.

“There’s a bedroom with a bathroom over there,” Santi said as he pointed towards the hallway. “There’s another bathroom next to the kitchen. Everything else is upstairs.”

“Let’s go upstairs then,” Benny yawned, knowing Santi had already claimed the bedroom on the ground floor.

It happened naturally, like it always did when they didn’t have to flip a coin for it. Benny entered the first bedroom he found. Frankie picked the second one, and Will was left with the bedroom at the end of the hallway. It wasn’t as big as the others, but at least he had the best bathroom, with the modern shower and the large bathtub.

He settled the girl on the bed, not caring for a second about staining the clean sheets. He brought the covers up to her chin, before turning on the night lamp and turning off the room light.

“And where are you gonna sleep?”

He turned around to find Santi in the doorway, his bags in his hands. Will gestured towards the couch.

“There are six beds in this place and you’re gonna sleep on the couch?”

“I can’t leave her alone.”

“Take the single beds.”

“She’ll be more comfortable here.”

Santi sighed. He sounded desperate. He put Will’s bags down on the dresser before he leant against it and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What’s your deal with her?” he asked, although it didn’t sound like a question, because he knew Will didn’t have an answer.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. I’m keeping her.”

“Keeping her? She’s not a pet, Will.”

“She’s staying.”

Will’s aggressive tone and the seriousness in his eyes concerned his friend the most.

“Nobody’s making her leave.”

Will nodded. To him, that was the end of the conversation. That was the end of the issue.

“Seriously, though,” Santi started and Will sent him a warning look. “You do realize this isn’t… I mean it’s weird, man.”

“What do you propose we do?”

“Exactly what we’re doing now, just… be careful.”

“I will be, okay? I just… I just know she’s not what they said she is. She’s not dangerous.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Did you see her down there? She’s not a monster.”

Santi frowned and tilted his head to the side as he stared back into his friend’s eyes, hoping he would see and understand his worry. He spoke his next words quietly.

“Maybe she was the biggest monster there.”

Will opened his mouth, but then closed it without saying a word. He looked down at the floor as he clenched his jaw in frustration. He made his way to the couch and sat down, his eyes remained focused on his boots, until they moved back onto her.

“I guess we’ll see when she wakes up,” he said, giving up, too tired to keep debating, as he knew there was nothing he could say to make him understand what he knew in his heart.

“I guess we will,” Santi repeated in a whisper. “Do me a favor, though. Get some sleep.”

Will nodded. “Yeah, I will.”

Santi chuckled as he pushed himself off the dresser and exited the room. Will had always been a terrible liar.

***

Spinning in darkness, untethered, floating like a leaf in water, drifting away in the infinity of her unconsciousness… she rose slowly from the deep sleep she had been forced under. It didn’t feel like waking up, because she hadn’t really been asleep. It was another kind of slumber. She emerged from the shadows of her mind, yet felt like she was drowning in them.

Memories echoed in the obscure chambers of her consciousness, compelling her to return to her comatose state. She didn’t want to go back. That was the only thing she was certain of. The only thing she knew. She fought against it but found herself unable to go back to the peaceful darkness. She was too weak for it. And trying made her feel worse.

She had been taken to the deepest corners of Hell, and they had used every weapon, performed every experiment, put to the test every theory, used up all their ideas… And the lack of satisfactory result never discouraged them. In fact, it became just another excuse to use new tools and new methods to torture her. They quickly learnt how to subdue her, how to make her weak, and her power mute. She had lived most of her life trapped between spells and sigils that had paralyzed her, body and soul. She had only known pain, had only felt their touch, the cutting of their knifes, the breaking of her bones… In Hell, there was no music but the sound of cries, and no song but the demons’ laugh.

That was all she knew.

They had driven her mind away, broken it like they had broken her body. Except it couldn’t heal the same. She was immortal. She was eternal. They couldn’t find a way to stop her heart, so they stopped something else. They had pushed her to meet her end. She had done it to herself.

She had put herself in a box where they couldn’t reach her, where she wouldn’t feel the pain, or their hands on her skin. She had turned herself off, had used those sigils and those traps to her advantage and had locked her mind away. The only way she could escape them. The only death she could ever have.

But something had changed. Now, she was free. The chains had disappeared. She could no longer feel the effect of the sigils on the walls, the traps on the floor and ceiling. She could no longer hear the screams, no longer feel the pain. She could no longer recognize where she was.

It was warm, and soft, and comfortable. And she wasn’t hanging from the ceiling, nor was she chained to the corner of a cold cage. She was lying down, but she wasn’t tied to the surface. It felt weird. Like she could actually move.

***

The sun rose and set on an eventless day chased away by the merciless night. Resting, relaxing… those were not words part of the soldiers’ vocabulary. They almost didn’t know how to do either of those things. They could appreciate a warm shower and recognize a comfortable mattress when they had one, but they were used to the opposite. So when they woke up from their restful sleep, they felt even more tired than they were when they went to bed. It didn’t help that it was almost midnight when they woke up. Or maybe it did help. Because even though they were used to living at night, it was just a good excuse to get back into their comfortable beds.

Will stayed up as long as he could, and he tried not to fall asleep, but he was human, with human needs, and no man, as strong as he might be, could stay awake, as exhausted as he was. But when he woke up the next night, unlike his brothers, he never went back to sleep.

He was awoken by a whimper. It startled him. Like he had just caught himself falling asleep at the wheel. He almost fell off the sofa. His eyes immediately searched for her, fear driven, as an irrational thought crossed his mind that perhaps she had vanished in silence, escaping the house and the attention of the four very skilled men who had been trained to not let such a thing happen. But she was still there. Sleeping. Her chest rose, and when he saw her breathe, so did he. He let out a sigh of relief before running a hand over his face.

He was staring, he didn’t realize it. Once again hypnotized by the sleeping beauty. He came to dread her waking up. The apprehension made him uneasy. Still panic settled in his heart as if he could feel the moment getting closer with each agonizing second that went by.

And then, he heard another whine. Suddenly, finally, she flinched, and his heart stopped.

A grimace twisted her face. A whimper broke the silence. And he froze like a deer in headlights. Like any movement from him would make her pain worse.

Her eyes shot open as she sat bolt upright with a cry that stuck in her throat. She gasped, like the air burnt her lungs. She whined as she found herself free to move and breathe without pain, the surprise almost as painful. She grabbed her wrist and looked down at herself, ignoring the dirt and blood covering her skin, instead focusing on the fluffy cover that kept her warm.

“Hey.”

Although he spoke calmly and as quietly as he could manage, she jumped, and as she saw him, the confusion on her face vanished and terror came to replace it. She seemed to shrink under his gaze, as if she was trying to make herself disappear.

“You’re okay,” he quickly added, holding up his hands before him to show her he meant no harm, “it’s okay.”

She whined as he stepped forward. He stopped.

“My name is Will. You’re safe, I promise no one here will hurt you.”

He could see she didn’t believe him, or maybe she just didn’t understand him. She was trembling, holding back tears, as if she was afraid to move or make any sound, as if that would lead to more scary, more painful things.

He hesitated, for minutes, he just stood there, holding her gaze, nodding at her, whispering promises, begging her to calm down. But she wouldn’t. She just wouldn’t. She just looked at him with her big wet blue eyes as if he was going to do unspeakable things to her. And the more she looked at him, the more scared she got.

“I p-“

She fled. She fled like a rabbit scared of hunting hounds. She pushed herself off the mattress, away from him. Tangled in the sheets, she struggled to get out, and fell on the floor, but she never stopped. She dragged herself in the corner of the room, between the wall and the old-fashioned wooden wardrobe, dragged the sheets with her, brought them up, covered her body under them, hid inside them.

Will sighed as he gave up. He really had no idea how to deal with this. He knew PTSD. He knew how to help soldiers, veterans coming back from war, but this? An angel tortured by demons? He had no idea what she had been through. No idea how to help her. But he knew he had to be patient. And kind. And gentle. And he couldn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to. Even if she needed to.

He slowly walked up to her and she pushed herself against the wall like she wanted to melt and disappear into it. He had never heard such broken cries. As if she knew no matter how much she tried to fight back, how much she begged, how much she cried, the pain would inevitably come. So he had to make her understand it wouldn’t. He had to make her understand he wasn’t one to bring pain.

He sat with her. Without saying a word, he just sat there. And he waited. He waited for her to understand.

***

Hours passed and they hadn’t moved. Slowly, though, she came out from under the sheets, eyeing him, wondering what kind of game he was playing. Usually she could tell what they would do to her that day by who was holding the knife or the room they took her in. But this was new.

He seemed to have fallen asleep, and a thought she hadn’t had in a very long time crossed her mind. She could run. She could try and run. And she might have tried it, had she been certain her legs could carry her out of there. She might have tried it, had she been certain he was really sleeping. She might have tried it, had she known for a fact the door was unlocked. It could be a trap. It was most certainly all a trap.

She moved, slightly, just to see if she could get a reaction out of him. Little by little, and it took minutes, she got herself on her hands and knees and slipped out of her corner. What she was doing terrified her, but her survival instinct pushed her to move, pushed her to seize her chance.

Slowly, quietly, she made her way to the door. She kept looking b      ack at him just to make sure he was still sleeping. Then she got on her feet and almost fell down. This was a terrible idea. She wouldn’t go anywhere in that state. She could barely walk. But she tried it anyway. Because even if they caught her, at least, maybe, they would be mad enough to put her back to sleep.

The door opened, and the empty hallway smelled of freedom. A wave of relief surged through her, but she still had miles to go. She staggered her way to the stairs, falling down a couple of times, but always getting back up. She gripped the ramp tight and was careful with each step she took down the stairs. She could see the front door and she knew it was too good to be true. But she didn’t give up. Even when she fell down again, her knees hitting the soft rug. Even when her legs were too weak to get her back up. She didn’t realize she was crying, because she had spent so much of her life with wet cheeks, and she worked through the pain, because she had known worse. She dragged herself to the big door, pushed herself up enough so that she could reach the handle and pull. And pull.

But the door was closed.

A broken sob escaped her throat as she collapsed to the floor and broke down in tears. She cried until she couldn’t breathe anymore. She cried until she felt a pair of hands around her waist.

She yelped as she was lifted off the floor and the stranger helped her sit up. She was expecting to see scary black eyes and the sadistic smile of the bored jailor that had played this cruel trick on her, but instead was met with the gentle brown-eyes of a man with dark disheveled curls. He looked nothing like Will, but for the pity in his eyes. He sighed as he looked at her, and she felt shame as his eyes travelled on her dirty self. She was only wearing a large brown coat and it had opened up on her way downstairs.

She flinched and shut her eyes as he brought a hand to her face and cupped her cheek. When she opened them again, when the pain never came, when all she felt was the soft touch of his hand on her skin and the gentle rub of his thumb wiping away her tears, fear had made place for confusion, and she dived into his eyes and saw the promises they were making her. She wanted to believe them. She wanted nothing more than to believe Will’s words; that she was safe here. So when the man moved his hands onto the coat, she didn’t move, and she let him button it up in silence.

“Do you want to go outside?” he asked, a question needing no answer, as he knew she wouldn’t give him any.

He slid his fingers in his jeans pocket and retrieved the keys to the door. She gasped when he scooped her up in his arms, but found herself holding on to him. She didn’t know why but she held on to him. The air outside was fresh and wet and she sobbed as it hit her skin and saw the sunrise in the horizon before them, behind the forest. She couldn’t remember the last time she had set foot outside. Had felt the wind in her hair. She buried her head in the crook of his neck to shield her eyes from the natural light. They would have to get used to it again, after all those years in the darkness.

The stranger smelled nice. She didn’t know what it was, but it was different. It was a strong rich smell that had her rub her nose against his collar bone. He smelled clean. He smelled alive. It filled her lungs with unspoken relief. At least, it didn’t make her sick. She shivered at the contact of his skin. He was warm, almost burning the hand she had wrapped around his neck. She wasn’t used to being around the living. She only knew cold death.

There was a swing on the porch and he thought she might enjoy it, perhaps the rocking would calm her down. Soothe her.

She was still trembling in his arms, and he knew it wasn’t because of the temperature. She needed pants… well, she needed everything. He could hear her sob, feel her fingers tap on his skin, and slowly move up to his hair until eventually she slid them in his soft curls and mindlessly, gently, started to pull on them. He rested his cheek on her icy forehead as he hushed and whispered promises, telling her everything was going to be okay.

Eventually, her breathing settled and her sobs disappeared, replaced by the quiet sounds of the calm forest. Her shaking now was mostly due to the cold morning, and while her fingers were still playing with his hair, her free hand had, at some point, seized the collar of his shirt and hadn’t let go.

That was the only thing she could control, the only thing she possessed. That bit of fabric attached to a man she didn’t know, trapped inside her tiny hand like it was a source of power that could allow her to stop time and remain like this forever. It was the shield she had put up around herself, the walls she had built for protection, the leash around his neck to pull on should he or anyone try to end this moment.

She pulled on it when Will ran out of the house in panic and found them on the porch. She pulled on it even though Santi, as Will had just called him, tightened his hold on her and told her it was okay. She pulled on it when Will knelt at his friend’s feet and took her face in his hands. She saw his lips moving, but a sudden ringing in her ear stopped her from hearing him. She whined as she shut her eyes in pain and once again chose to find shelter in Santi’s arms, hiding her face in between his neck and shoulder.

“What happened?”

“She tried to leave. Freaked out when the door wouldn’t open.”

Will sighed. “She’s not scared of you.”

“I don’t know what to tell you man. She keeps smelling me.”

“It’s the cologne I got you for your birthday,” Frankie said as he joined them, cigarette in hand, leaning against the doorframe.

“You didn’t get me anything for my birthday, pendejo.”

“She awake?” Benny asked, appearing behind him with a hot cup of coffee in his hand. “She a monster or what?”

“She can barely walk, Benny,” Santi answered.

“Yeah, she doesn’t exactly look like the most dangerous creature on earth…” Frankie said.

“She looks like she needs a shower.”

“Shut up, Benny,” Will spat as he leant forward to retrieve the girl from Santi’s lap.

She gasped as she felt his hands on her and quickly wrapped her arms around Santi’s neck, desperately holding on like Lucifer himself was trying to snatch her from her safe place.

“Come on, man,” Santi complained. “She’d just stopped crying!”

Will stepped back, obviously frustrated, as Santi stood up. The sudden move made her panic.

“It’s okay, baby,” he hushed as he made his way back inside the cabin without giving another look to his friends.

He took her back to Will’s room where he laid her on the bed. It was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. She just wouldn’t let him go, and her cries made it harder for him to put her down. They came to a compromise. She got back under the covers, and he remained by her side as he held her hand. She played with his fingers for a while until they moved onto his wrist. She seized it and, little by little, started pulling him towards her. Gently, at first, then forcefully. He kept telling her that it was okay. That she was going to be okay. After a while, the words started to make sense to her. Not that she started to believe them, but her brain heard the words, and understood their meaning. Reality was still blurry. But her senses were slowly coming back to her. Eventually, he gave in, and climbed into bed with her. He slid under the covers and brought her to his chest, and she surprisingly didn’t hesitate to embrace him. She laid her head close to his neck and started tapping her fingers on the exposed skin of his chest.

Will appeared at the door with his hands in his pockets. He took in the sight before him then looked away.

“We’re gonna go into town, get some food, some clothes… you need anything?”

“I’m good.”

“Right…”

Silence settled awkwardly and he started to rock on his heels.

“Get her some girl stuff, will you?”

“Girl stuff?” he chuckled. “Sure. Try and get her to take a bath, yeah? I looked around, there’s everything she needs in there,” he said as he pointed to the bathroom.

“Sure,” he scoffed. There was no way that was going to be easy.

Benny called for Will from down the stairs and the older brother waved goodbye before he disappeared in the hallway. Santi heard the front door close behind them and the car drive away. She didn’t move. She didn’t move when Will stepped in, and didn’t move when he stepped out. She just laid there, running her fingertips on his skin. She just held on to him.

She held onto him when he sat up, when he got out of bed. She held onto him when he took her to the bathroom. But when he tried to put her in the tub, she let go. She fought against him, suddenly, startling him, and he was unable to stop her from falling on the cold hard floor tiles, hitting her head on the edge of the tub.

“Shit!”

She pushed against him when he knelt to check her forehead, she screamed in panic. She tried to get up and run but he easily caught her, causing her to fight back even harder. She cried and begged, and he hushed and comforted, but she wouldn’t calm down. He had no idea what he had done wrong.

Frankie arrived soon after, running in, worried about all those screams that echoed from the bathroom.

“Close the door,” Santi told him.

Bad idea.

Once closed, the girl’s screams got worse. She never stopped trying to escape Santi’s arms, and started kicking Frankie as he tried to approach them.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I think she’s scared of the tub, just lock the door.”

“Are you kidding? She thinks we’re gonna drown her or something and you wanna lock her in here?”

“I don’t want her to run away, just lock the door and help me calm her down!”

Frankie had been right, though. She did lose it when he locked the door. Somehow finding more strength to fight them off.

“Show her the water, show her… damn it,” he hissed in frustration as she almost managed to slip away, “just show her it won’t hurt her, will you?”

Frankie sighed. He made his way to the tub and turned on the tap, putting his hand under the water.

“See? Look. It’s just water, it won’t hurt, look. It’s just water.”

He kept shushing, repeating the same words over and over again because he didn’t know what else to say to make her understand. Her screams, her cries, her begging just wouldn’t stop. And all the while, he wondered why on earth would she be afraid of a bathtub. He stepped back into the corner of the room, still facing the tub. Steam evaporated from the water filling it while her cries worsened.

“We’re gonna get you in the tub, it’s not gonna hurt, it’s going to be nice and warm, and we’re going to get you cleaned up, wash away the blood, wash your hair, you’ll feel so much better, you’ll see. It’s not going to hurt. I promise. It’s not going to hurt.”

She screamed as he stepped forward, and every kick and punch from her broke his heart. But Frankie helped him take her coat off and finally get her in the tub. She fought all the way in, water splashing everywhere. They had to pin her down to keep her from getting back up once they had finally gotten her to sit. Her hands gripped the edges of the tub, as if she was afraid they’d push her under the water. Santi covered one with his own.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” he said as he caressed her skin. “Will said there were some products around, grab some,” he instructed Frankie, who came back with everything he could find.

Bottle after bottle, body wash, shampoo, conditioner… he opened them all and only kept the best smelling ones. He made her watch as he brought them to his nose then asked her to do the same.

“See? Smells good, right?”

The water had gotten cold by the time she was calm enough to let him bring a bottle to her face. But that wasn’t an issue, on the contrary. The water had also gotten quite dirty.

“We’re gonna change the water, okay? So you’re not too cold.”

She watched, with fear, but also a bit of fascination, as the water disappeared around her. She brought her knees to her chest and rested her chin on top of them. Santi took the showerhead and explained to her what he was doing as he turned it on and checked the temperature. She was still scared, but her panic had gone, and although she was still wary of him, she let him do it. She even let him bring the water to her face and hair.

“Close your eyes, I won’t be long.”

When most of the blood and dirt had been washed off her skin and hair, he filled the tub again and asked Frankie to find a washcloth. He could see she wasn’t completely at ease, but hopefully she would remain calm until she saw they wouldn’t hurt her.

Frankie had sat on the other side of the tub and rested his forearm on the edge. He watched as his friend put the cloth in the water and brought it to her face. She jumped and moved back, but then let him clean her face.

“Did you pick the bottle you wanted?” he asked, as he showed them to her again. “This one?”

It was a kids body wash that smelled like strawberry, that he could use to wash her hair as well. After he was done with her face, he handed the cloth to her, but she only gave him a confused look.

“I’m sure you’d rather do it yourself.”

He shouldn’t have been so sure, because she didn’t move. She only looked back down at the water. Santi sighed.

“Right.”

He started with her arms, and she started looking at the bubbles that had appeared in the water, like she had never seen any. He did her back as she tried to grab some, only to watch them explode under her touch.

“Do you wanna do your legs?” he asked again, but still, no answer. She was too captivated by the bubbles. And it smelled good too. Perhaps, that was why she seemed so calm as he touched her.

“I think she’s lived through worse things, Pope.”

“That doesn’t mean I get to touch her like this.”

“I think she’s used to it.”

“It doesn’t make it right!”

“I know that.”

He reluctantly brought the cloth to her legs and she didn’t move when he reached her knees. When he looked up, he found her eyes on him.

“Come on, baby, you can do your thighs, yeah?”

She tilted her head to the side, like she was considering it, but she was just trying to understand. Eventually, she stretched her legs, revealing her upper body to them. They looked away.

“Take the cloth. I’ll wash your hair. Deal?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer because that would have just been a waste of time. She watched it float in the water as he did his best to clean her very dirty and tangled hair. To his relief he remembered Frankie had handed a detangling spray to him earlier as well.

Frankie had spent the entire time looking away from the girl. He didn’t know why but she freaked him out. At some point though, as he dipped his hand into the water to check the temperature, he saw she was looking at the ring around his finger.

“You like it?” he asked as he removed it and handed it to her. She gave him a puzzled look. “Go on, take it. Take a better look.” But she never did. She had learnt long ago not to take anything that was handed to her under any circumstances. She jumped and moved away when he reached for her arm, but didn’t fight back. She watched as he placed the ring in the palm of her hand. It was big and heavy, golden, with details all around it, an eagle in the middle. She looked at it for a while. It could have been seconds, it could have been minutes. Time had taken another meaning inside that bathroom. But at some point, she handed it back to him.

“Thank you,” he said as he put it back on his finger.

In a surprising move, she took the cloth out of the water, and handed it to him. He sighed.

“Alright.”

He wrung the cloth out before bringing it to her neck. Then down her shoulders. Down to her cleavage. He watched carefully for any sign of discomfort, but she seemed lost in thought, her eyes looking once again at the bubbles in the water.

“Frankie,” Santi warned.

“I know.”

He ran the cloth in between her breast and onto her stomach, down to her thighs. He was meticulous. He slowly brought it back up to her breasts. She didn’t move. He made it quick. When he was finally done, she brought her knees back up to her chest, and he looked over at Santi who was still struggling with her hair.

“Do you need a hairbrush or something?”

“Maybe. Hand me that detangling spray you found earlier.”

“If we hurt her, she’ll lose her shit.”

“I know, I’m doing my best here.”

Santi started to wish he had waited for Will to come back and make him do it, because he definitely hadn’t signed up for that. When Will and Benny came back with food and clothes, he was still struggling with it. But at least it was clean.

“That shit ain’t working,” he said angrily, feeling like throwing the bottle out the window.

“Just let me do it,” Will said as he removed his shoes and stepped in the bathroom.

He knelt before her first, and asked her if she was okay. As expected, she gave no answer.

“Let’s just get her out of the water first, we can deal with her hair out there.”

He grabbed a robe that was hanging from the door and Frankie left them to join Benny down in the kitchen and help him with the groceries. Will emptied the tub and asked her to get up, promising they wouldn’t look, although they weren’t sure that information mattered to her. Seeing she didn’t move, Santi leaned over and whispered in her ear.

“Let me help you.”

He put his hands on her waist and she instantly turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck, surprising him once again.

“Oh, okay…”

He helped her back onto his feet, allowing Will to get her inside the large white warm fluffy robe. Although she wouldn’t look at him. She kept her focus on Santi. Will tied the belt around her waist and once his hands were off her, she hurried back into Santi’s arms.

Will sighed. “Come on.”

They took her back to the bed where they sat with her, Will behind her, armed with a bunch of hairbrushes and detangling products that didn’t work, Santi before her, holding her hands in his, whispering the same thing over and over again.

“You’re safe. We will never hurt you. You can trust us. I promise.”

Will managed, by some miracle, to fix her hair around noon, and they wondered if she was starving just like they were. Santi gently took her chin in between his fingers and made her look up at him.

“You hungry, baby?”

As usual, she didn’t understand the question, and moved towards him for only response.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her, wrapping an arm around her. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

[artemiseamoon]

Damage Control

New chapter up!

***this is a preview***read in full on A03***

The security meeting doesn't take long, again, Frankie is to the point. He doesn't come down as hard on Adan as he thought he would, still he it made it very clear, there could be no more fuck ups, from himself, or anyone else.

Frankie's headache isn't as bad as before, some food and ibuprofen made a difference. Back at his apartment, he checks the next thing off his list, returning Damon's call.

Putting the wireless headphones in his ears, he sits in the apartment office and calls Damon back. With the day he's having, the last thing he wants to do is this, but there's no escaping it.

Frankie hears Damon chuckle before he speaks, "About damn time. Dodging me today?"

Frankie's eyes move over the screens before him. "Puppet show in the park, we were there for a while."

"Shit, that festival, right? It’s like crack to them, they love that. I hoped to be back for that. They bring the dogs too?"

"Yeah."

"You sound like shit man." Damon pauses. "Know what, James is in town right? Why don't you take the night off? Go out, get a couple of drinks, meet a pretty girl? You work hard, Morales. Maybe a night out and a piece of ass is the cure."

Unamused, Frankie closes his eyes, then massages his neck for the third time today. "Is there a purpose to this call? Other than telling me I sound like shit and should get laid?”

Damon chuckles, "Just trying to lighten the mood. Yeah, there is. Near a computer?"

"Yeah," he swivels in the chair to face the laptop.

"I sent you my new itinerary, my trips going to be few days longer."

Frankie goes to the protected email he and Damon have been using, he pulls up the updated schedule.

Damon offers an explanation, despite Frankie not asking for one, "I'm so close to closing this deal. I've been after this guy for years. Got him all buttered up, on the edge. He's taking a bunch of people on his yacht to some island the day I’m supposed to leave. I don't want to lose my chance to seal the deal."

Frankie continues eyeing the schedule. Then, in the back of his mind, he wonders if this news is part of the reason Veronica is in a bad mood.

This was a preview. Read in full on A03

[archive-of-note]

First Writer Wednesday!

@writer-wednesday week 24

author's notes

Reader insert, poly relationship (Frankie x GN!Reader x Female!OC) reader is never gendered, referred to as “titi” by a child character in place of mom/dad/aunt/uncle etc. some very loose allusions to sexual activity, like hella loose, could not even be recognized unless your mind was already skirting the gutter. My terrible attempts at Spanish, do not hesitate to tell me if smth is wrong.

Female OC: Aliya. Imagine Bayonetta but toned down. She’s still confidant, she’s still flirty, but it’s more restrained. Actually used to be a stripper, worked through getting her MD, eventually became a pediatrician, still dances for fun because she genuinely enjoyed the physicality of it, and it’s a great way to keep active and in touch with her old coworkers. (we respect sex workers in this house!)

none of this is really pertinent to the story, but I wanted to give her some background

she does have some issues with Santi, she keeps her mouth shut about it though, but know if he ever tries to pull his shit again she will not hesitate to go for the throat.

I don’t know if it came across but I need you to understand that the insert has it down BAD for these two, we’re talking hearts and stars and fireworks in their eyes.

if i missed any warnings or tags do not hesitate to tell me

Simply Poolside Paradise

It’s hot as hell and there is barely a breeze.

Smack dab in the middle of August you wonder why you’re not inside, naked, and spread eagle in front of a fan.

A splash and whoop make you look up, and you’re reminded what you’re suffering for.

Frankie shakes his head, flicking water out of his hair and making you long for a camera to capture the Vanity Fair quality moment.

“How he was so oblivious to your interest I will never know.”

You shake your own head, and look to the woman who has just insulted you and Frankie.

“Well, Aliya, how’d you do it?”

She huffs, obviously rolling her eyes behind her large sunglasses as she smacks your arm with her paperback.

“That’s different.”

You raise your eyebrows, looking at her over the rims of your own sunglasses.

Instead of giving you a better argument, she just flicks your ear.

Snatching her wrist, you tug, pulling her into your lap as she squawks and flails gracelessly.

Frankie shouts from the other side of the pool, “You alright?”

You shout over her shoulder, “I’m being bullied!”

“You’re being bullied!? I’m being manhandled!”

You wrap your arms around her and laugh, kissing whatever bits of her you can reach as she playfully swats at you.

Suddenly you pull away, “Blegh,” cringing at the sour chemical taste of sunscreen.

She halts her wiggling, “What’s wrong?”

You click your tongue, trying to wipe the taste from your tongue without using your hands, “Tastes bad.”

“Slander!” Frankie’s voice booms from the edge of the pool, and he glares at you with a comical amount of contempt.

It takes you a moment, but once you understand what he means you gasp in horror, “I would never,” you squeeze Aliya’s waist, “imply such a thing.”

She tugs at your hair in retribution, “But you just did,” she starts trying to get out of your lap again, “you more than implied in fact.”

Whining, you hook your fingers into the strappier parts of her baiting suit, “Aliya,” you pout, gently tugging.

She humphs, crossing her arms and tilting her head away from you.

“Francisco,” she looks over her shoulder, “could you put lotion on my back?”

“Hey! I’m right here!”

She turns back to you, and even as you try to keep your eyes on her, you can’t help but flick your gaze to Frankie as he pushes himself out of the pool and all of that water pours down the thick expanse of his body.

You thoughtlessly lick your lips as he gets to his feet.

“Do you ever think with the head on your shoulders?”

Looking back to Aliya, you hum, wordlessly asking that she repeat herself.

She just laughs.

“What’s so funny?” Frankie grabs a towel from the bag beside your lounge chair, rubbing the side of his head, nose scrunching in a way that tells you he has some water in his ear.

Aliya cups your face, tilting your head up to look at her, “Not funny,” she leans in for a quick kiss, “just happy.”

The smile that breaks across your face makes you feel a little stupid, but Aliya’s eyes soften, and you don’t care.

“What about me?”

You turn to look at Frankie. His pout is so overdone that you can’t help but snort.

“C’mere, Flyboy.”

Smiling, he leans down and cups your cheek with one large hand, kissing you with a bit more fervor then is probably appropriate for his friend’s backyard pool.

“Blegh,” You make a face as you pull away.

“What?” Frankie looks worried.

You smack your lips to try and get rid of the taste, “You taste like chlorine.”

He huffs, but he doesn’t try too hard to keep his face deadpan.

“You better be decent! Ankle biters incoming!”

The three of you turn in time to see a little girl running and screaming toward the poolside.

“Tío Fishy!”

The little girl has her father’s hair, black, wavy, and with a decent puff from the humidity.

“Hey baby girl!”

He picks her up and she squeals in delight, suddenly several feet off the ground and loving every second of it.

“Santiago.” Aliya slips back into your lap, looking over your shoulder to the man who’s trailing behind Frankie’s daughter. It's not that she hates him, she actually thinks Santi is fun to be around. But sometimes the memory of the broken man who came back after going dark, lead on by promises of fortune, only to come back guilt ridden and empty handed, well, she might need some time to consider spitting on him if he were on fire.

He whistles, looking appreciatively at the woman in your lap, not feeling the subtle glare hidden by her frames.

You glare from behind the polarized lenses of your own shades, but more so to play up seeming jealous, just to lighten the mood.

“Titi,” tilting your head down, you soften your features to look to the little girl standing at your side.

“Hey starlight, how was shopping with Santi?”

Her mouth opens with a yawn, rubbing one of her eyes to really drive her want for nap time home.

“‘M sleepy.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm.”

You turn to Aliya, “While it hurts me to say this, you might need to move.”

She holds a hand to her chest, shoulders relaxing once Pope is out of sight, “Devastating.”

“I know, I need to mentally prepare.”

Turning back to the little girl you ask in a soft voice, “You want to go inside to take a nap?”

She shakes her head.

“No? Why not?”

She doesn’t say, she just gives you the grabby hands.

You glance up to the sky, bright, blue, and not a cloud in sight.

“Gotta put sunscreen on, you still want to be out here?”

She nods, eyes closed and spreading her arms, already preparing for the process of being misted.

“It’s lotion, Stellita.”

She gives a little grunt, arms dropping and waiting.

You look to Aliya, and she already has the bottle in her hands.

“I’ll do it, grab a towel or two, so she has a pillow and something to hold.”

She slips out of your lap, and you do just that, taking a quick look at Frankie and Santi’s daughter splashing around in the shallow end of the pool, “Mari! Are you wearing sun screen?”

“What’s that?”

And that answers that question.

You give Frankie a look and he’s already walking back out of the water, holding the little girl aloft so she can’t wiggle around in a bid to stay in the pool.

Santiago shouts from near the shed, hefting a bag of coal over his shoulder, “Anyone hungry yet? Or can I hold off on the grill for a bit longer?”

You wave a hand his way, “I’m not hungry yet, but I think I’m getting there, still, no rush.”

You find some pool towels and start setting up a spot for Estella, in the shade and close to both you and Pope, but she whines, again giving you the grabby hands.

“I’m gonna need words here bebita, my mind reading doesn’t always work.”

She whines “‘na cuddle.”

“Es Calor, ¿estás seguro?” You flick your eyes to Santi, and he gives you a thumbs up on your Spanish.

“Sí, quiero mi titi.”

If you could die from cuteness you’d be six feet under right now.

“Alright,” you pick her up with one of the towels, sitting back in the pool lounger and getting comfortable and trapping yourself beneath the little girl.

“¿Bueno, estrella de mi vida?”

She nods, already mostly asleep against you.

A shadow suddenly covers you, so you look up, and standing over you is Frankie, with a patio umbrella that needs to be set up.

“Hey,”

“Hey,”

Frankie stares, but the sun blurs his face from view.

“Is something wrong?”

He stares a bit longer before shaking his head.

“No,” he plants the umbrella and opens it up, blocking the sun from where you and Estella lie.

“Just,” he locks the whole thing in place, “have I said I love you today?”

Blinking a few times you think it over, even though you don’t think he’s actually looking for an answer, “Yeah, when I made your coffee this morning.”

His smile grows, “Well saying it again won’t kill me.”

You shake your head, “No it won’t.”

Frankie leans in and kisses you, soft and full, before pulling away just enough to speak, “I love you.”

You close the gap between the two of you again, following him when he pulls back just a bit.

“Love you too, hermoso.”

He smiles in that way that makes his entire face scrunch up, eyes closing and crinkling at the sides.

You can't help but kiss him again.

“Tío Fishy!”

He tilts his head toward the pool, “Duty calls.” He doesn't move though.

“Mmhmm.” And you don't really make much of an effort to get him moving yourself.

“Tío Fishy!”

“Un momento, Mari.”

He kisses you one more time, then one last peck, before he takes two large steps and promptly jumps into the pool, splashing your legs and soaking Mari who is absolutely delighted by the chaos.

“Have I said I love you today?”

You look up to Aliya, taking in her cocked hip and the sharp points of her profile. Giving her an answer is easy after having already thought about getting ready this morning, “Yes, when I told you which sunglasses went with the hat and bathing suit, then when I packed a second book because I noticed you were very close to finishing your current one, and when I stopped you from drinking Frankie’s coffee.”

She makes a face, she may be okay with bitter flavors, but solid black coffee is too much for her.

“Well, I’m going to say it again. I love you.”

You grab her hand, “And I love you,” kissing the back of it you cringe again, “even when you taste like sunscreen.”

She laughs, before setting up the other lounge chair so she can share the shade with you.

[poedameronthighs]

i wanna know more Abt canary 👀

huehuehuhehehe u always come through for me

canary is. highly underestimated by everyone but the squad. she's not super tall. she's not super bulky. she smiles easier than benny and her chapstick smells like cherries. she's always whistling or humming a tune, even on missions. she's their sniper and her constant hum is comforting.

its when she stops that shits about to go down. when she stops they worry. once, Benny was halfway across the deserted complex they had to infiltrate. Canary up in her snipers nest on the ridge. humming like normal. three blind mice. Halfway through the fourth line she stops and Benny freezes and hears a body fall not six feet away from him when she starts humming again.

canary is closest to Benny and fish but she loves all of them, pope and ironhead too. she's a little bit in love with all of them. but it's benny and frankie she wedges herself next to in the booth at the bar. Benny and Frankie who take turns rubbing her back as she cries from a nightmare or hold her hand when she turns silent and still

shes bubbly. cheery. sunshiney. yellow like the bird her callsign is named after

haunted. their poison detector

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Tranquility.

You're not good at keeping secrets from the boys. Turns out, Will isn't either.

Pairing - Will Miller x female reader. Benny Miller, Santiago Garcia, Frankie Morales x female reader.

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Brief allusion to sexual content. No cursing in this one!!

Word Count - 4.3k

Author's Note - hi lovelies. here's another triple frontier fic for you all!! i love writing these boys so much. we all know by now that i am a total will girly, so it's no surprise he takes the lead in this one. but all the boys are included - i can't leave them out <3. as always, if you have any specific requests or thoughts, send them over!! lots of love x

my other triple frontier fics - Tethered, Time, and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

“Baby, we gotta go!”

“Coming!” you yell, running down the stairs with a duffel bag in your hand. “Almost forgot my toothbrush.”

“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t on your neck,” Will winks, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Shut up, Miller,” you tease, no real malice in your voice. You lean up to peck his lips gently, before he takes a step back.

“We can’t be late again. I can’t make up another excuse – last time was bad enough.”

“That was literally your fault! You were the one that couldn’t keep your hands off me, like some sort of teenage boy,” you laugh.

“It was the green dress’ fault, not mine. I don’t regret it,” he chuckles.

Will winks at you again before picking up your bags and walking outside to pack up the car.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Four days by the lake with your boys sounded like complete and utter bliss. When Frankie had suggested it, initially, everyone had laughed it off. Realistically, it wouldn’t work. You all struggle to plan a day off at the same time, never mind multiple. It sounded like a sweet little idea. Nothing more.

Then, life got stressful. Work was tough on everyone, families causing issues, deadlines looming – the mundane routine of every day wearing the five of you down. Eventually, it was Santiago that snapped.

“We’re going to that damn lake house,” he exclaimed one evening in Benny’s backyard. “I don’t care what we have to do. I don’t care if we all have to call in sick. We are going to the lake house.”

He looked around at his friends, expecting them to instantly shut him down. Instead, he was met with unanimous nods of agreement.

That was months ago. It was a logistical nightmare, working out your schedules to intertwine with each other, but you did it. You were ridiculously ready for four days of swimming, drinking, sunbathing and laughing with your favourite people in the entire world. It sounded like the well deserved break everyone needed.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Will’s warm palm meets the bare skin of your thigh as he drives. The roads are long and monotonous, but you don’t care. Everything is an adventure with him.

“You still sure about not telling ‘em?” he asks, blue eyes flitting over to you briefly. He’s got a gentle smile on his face. He always does when he’s with you. It’s like his default setting.

“Yeah, I think I am. Are you?”

“Yeah. Think we should live in paradise a little longer.”

“Paradise, huh?” you tease, squeezing his hand.

“You know it is. I’m on cloud nine every moment I’m with you, baby.”

His words make your head spin, and you’re glad you’re sitting down already. You wonder everyday how you got so lucky. It’s rare, to know with full certainty that you are someone’s favourite person in the world. The centre of their universe. Sometimes, it’s overwhelming. Mostly, it’s astounding. It warms up your bones, settles itself carefully into your ribcage, pumping your heart to the beat of Will’s love. What a gift.

Which is why you’ve decided to keep the two of you a secret from the boys. You know that it won’t change anything between the group, not really – but you’re a little worried nonetheless. It’s scary, altering a dynamic that works so well. The five of you, stuck like glue, know each other like the lyrics to your favourite songs. You know each others strengths, weaknesses, favourite ice cream flavours, middle names, star signs, families – everything. It’s the kind of friendship that binds you together for life. Changing that in any way would break your heart. Will’s too. You know, deep down, that they’ll be perfectly accepting. But the fear still lingers, ugly and unwavering.

Also - you and Will didn’t take the most conventional route into a relationship.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The two of you met in Delta Force. Co-workers, first. Comrades in arms. He had your back, you had his. You saved each other’s lives countless times. You’d stitch up each other’s wounds, carry each other back to base, share your water even though you only had a drop left. You were a team.

Then, you became friends. It’s hard not to, when you’re thrown into a life-or-death situation. You spent 24 hours a day together, wherever you were sent – sometimes Asia, sometimes South America, sometimes Africa. You got to know each other, learnt one another’s quirks and habits and likes and dislikes. The five of you bonded quickly and effortlessly. It made you a slick team, your missions running like clockwork. You could all predict each other’s movements, finish each other’s sentences. It’s what made you so successful, so revered.

After Delta Force, you became friends outside of work. Forced proximity friendship is one thing, but actually making the time to see each other back on home soil is another. You were worried that you were going to drift, and all of the trust built would perish. That wasn’t the case. The five of you quickly adjusted to being home together. You’d all spend Saturdays in Frankie’s backyard, Friday nights on Santiago’s porch, Sundays in Will’s kitchen. You’d pop by and see Benny on a Wednesday night after work, ready to watch another episode of that reality show you both couldn’t get enough of. You’d see Will any chance you got. Sunday morning farmers market trips and early swims and pancakes for breakfast and why don’t you just stay over? It’ll save you driving home.

You’d been best friends with Will for years before you realised how you felt about him.

It’d hit you, all of a sudden, one Sunday morning. You drove over to Will’s to pick him up, ready to go to the flea market downtown. You were going to grab lunch after, maybe cook some dinner together later. Just an average day.

You let yourself in to his house using the key he’d had made for you years ago. You had keys to all the boy’s places – just in case. You found Will at the stove, shirtless, golden skin on display. Whatever he was cooking smelled heavenly, and you wondered for a minute how it was fair that he was talented at everything.

“Morning, Miller,” you sing, throwing your bag down and striding over to him.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he replies, turning around to face you. He opens his arms and you step into his space, wrapping yourself around him and resting your head on his bare chest. You inhale, breathing in his scent deliberately. He smells like warmth and sleep and sunshine and promises.

You take a step back, craning your neck to look at him. The morning sunlight is gleaming through the windows, casting a gold hue across the room. Will’s hair is glowing, illuminating him like some sort of halo. Angelic boy.

Those ocean blue eyes survey you carefully. He rests his hands on your hips, pulling you in closer.

“What’s on your mind? I can see it runnin’ a mile a minute,” he murmurs. You try to look down, but he catches your chin with his thumb and forefinger, gently guiding you back up.

How do you explain that you’ve just realised that you’re completely, utterly, irreversibly in love with Will Miller? That it’s just dawned on you like a sunrise, warm and promising? How do you tell someone that you’re quite convinced you’ll drop dead if you don’t kiss them immediately? Is it even possible to explain these feelings? Is it possible to put all of these emotions into words? Are there enough words in any language to explain the enormity of what you’re experiencing?

Instead, you simply say,

“I’m in love with you.”

Will’s pupils blow wide, and he sways slightly, as if the weight of your confession has knocked him off balance. You steady him by cradling his face, forcing him to look at you.

“You don’t have to say it back,” you continue. “But I’ve kind of just put the pieces together, and it seems stupid not to tell you. You of all people know that life is short and fragile and can change in the blink of an eye, so I just thought –”

Will cuts you off by smashing his lips against yours. The kiss is passionate and tender and so full of love you’re convinced you could get drunk off it. He pulls back for air and looks at you earnestly.

“Don’t have to say it back? Sweetheart, do you know how often I’ve dreamt of you saying those words to me?”

You can’t help but break out into a grin. You feel like you’re floating, levitating above ground, held up purely by the love William Miller has for you.

“You have?” you ask, disbelief written on your features. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was waiting for you,” he beams. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

You smile at him ear to ear before jumping into his arms. You kiss him again, legs wrapping around his waist to anchor yourself, closing the distance. He spins around the kitchen with you in his arms, the joy of being in love filling the room.

Suddenly, Will puts you down.

“Stay here,” he tells you, before sprinting upstairs.

Usually, you can predict Will’s every move. But not now. Now, you’re more confused than you’ve ever been.

He returns, placing a kiss to your forehead, before getting down on one knee in front of you.

“Marry me,” he says, complete certainty in his voice. You’ve never heard him this assured.

“Will… what?” you ask incredulously. You confessed your love for each other ten minutes ago, and you’ve skipped straight to marriage, apparently.

“Listen. I know it’s crazy. I know it seems fast. But we’ve loved each other for years, sweetheart. I realised when I met you that I was never, ever going to love anyone else again.”

He pulls out a box from the pocket of his pyjama pants and opens it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring. It’s understated and it’s elegant and it’s just so you.

“I bought this two years ago. Maybe you think I’m insane, and maybe you’re going to run out of that door the minute I stop talking. But I’ve never been surer of anything in my entire life.”

You’ve been trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully for the past few minutes. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion, and your brain is trying to keep up.

“Will, we aren’t even technically dating,” you tease playfully. You already know your answer. You just like hearing him bear his truth to you like this.

“We’ve been dating for years, technically,” he rallies. “Everyone always thinks we’re a couple. We’re together every weekend, we go on dates, you sleep over… we went grocery shopping last week!”

You grin, remembering how you’d jokingly argued over whether to get the red or the green grapes, and how you’d ended up getting both. It was all so domestic it made your heart ache.

The two of you sit in the silence for a minute, Will still on one knee. He’s looking up at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. There’s no doubt in your mind what you’ll say.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Will. God, yes. The easiest yes of my entire life.”

He jumps up to grab you, spinning you in circles. You kiss him with so much force he stumbles backwards. Will takes your left hand, and carefully slides the ring onto your finger. It looks like it’s always belonged there.

You always knew it’d be Will Miller. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

That was months ago. The other boys know that you and Will spend a lot of time together one on one, so no one has suspected anything out of the ordinary. You have no doubt they’ll be happy for you both, but you’re content to keep everything a secret a little while longer. It’s easier, that way. It means you and Will get to keep living in your bubble of bliss, unphased by the outside world. You’ll tell them soon enough. You’re just trying to savour every last second.

“We’ll tell them soon,” you reassure Will, interlocking your fingers with his where they rest on your leg. “We’ll make it a whole thing, if you like. It feels like something that warrants a celebration.”

“Oh, definitely,” he grins, turning his eyes back to the road. “We’re almost there. So, you’re gonna have to act like you’re not totally head over heels in love with me for four days. You think you can manage?”

You scoff playfully, and squeeze his hand.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay,” you tease. He chuckles, and the melody of it is music to your ears.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You arrive at the lake house only ten minutes late, which you and Will agree is not entirely unacceptable.

“Finally, they’re here!” Benny yells as he bounds over to the car. He envelopes you in a bear hug, picking you up off the ground accidentally.

“Frankie is inside,” Santiago reassures when he catches you looking over his shoulder. You turn to give him a hug, and he kisses you on the cheek. Old habit.

“Santi, did you pack bug spray? You know the mosquitoes love you,” you wink, running your hands through his hair affectionately. He has greys coming through, and they suit him beautifully.

“Yes, hermosa, I got your text reminding me,” he smiles. “Thank you.”

You and Will grab your bags and make your way inside, where Frankie is making margaritas.

“Hola, mi amor,” he greets, wrapping his arms around you. “How was the journey?”

“All good, Francisco,” you reply. “I have a very reliable chauffeur.”

Will laughs from behind you, and it makes your knees weak.

“Bad news, you guys!” Benny interrupts, jumping to sit on the counter. “You two have to share a room, since you were the last ones here. Finders, keepers, and all that.”

That really isn’t the inconvenience that the boys think it is, but you and Will play along nonetheless.

“Damn it. He snores, you know!” you laugh, looking over to where Will is pretending to be offended, hand over his heart.

“That’s what you get for being late, losers!” Benny retorts, throwing his head back in amusement. Everyone laughs along with him, and all the tension melts from your body.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s day one, and you’re already struggling. You’re all relaxing on the dock, soaking up the sun’s rays. Will is wearing his forest green swim trunks with a ridiculously small inseam, his strong thighs on display. You so badly want to kiss them, lick them, bite down on them in the way you know he likes. Instead, you sip your margarita and settle for ogling him over the rim of your sunglasses.

He dives into the lake elegantly, and a bead of sweat drips down your neck. He breaks the surface, coming up for air, and pushes his hair back, water cascading down his golden skin. He’s glowing, beaming, gleaming in the sunlight like an ancient marble statue. You’re practically panting. Santiago notices.

“You okay, hermosa?” he asks, giving you a once over.

“Yeah, Santi, I’m good. Just super warm,” you lie. He seems to buy it, because he moves to grab his book, fanning you with it. Admittedly, the light breeze does cool you off, and distracts you from Will. Double win.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you joke, as he pretends to tip his hat towards you.

“You should join us!” Benny shouts from the lake. When did he even jump in?

“Yeah, come on, darlin’” Will chimes in, watching you with a slight smirk on his face. He’s not going to pass up the chance to see you sun soaked and dripping wet.

“Fine!” you huff jokingly, pulling your oversized t shirt (which you’re realising belongs to Frankie – when did you steal that?) over your head. You’re left in a bikini that leaves little to the imagination, the bright colour accentuating your skin beautifully. You look good. You feel good.

Will looks you up and down and takes a deep breath. You’re just friends, remember? He’s trying to convince himself, attempting to make the act somewhat believable. You break him out of his thoughts by running along the dock as fast as you can, and diving into the lake with a surprising amount of grace.

The five of you spend all afternoon in the water. Benny thinks it’s hilarious to pick you up, placing you on his shoulders before jumping backwards, sending you both flying through the air. You all play catch, laughing when Frankie misses the ball and accidentally punches Santi right in the stomach. You and Will easily fall back into your old habits of being friends, but you can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger just a second too long every now and again. You’re sure nobody else clocks on, all of the boys too busy splashing each other like children.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When the evening comes, you all shower and dry off while Will and Frankie make dinner. You, Benny and Santi curl up on the couch, trying to warm each other up after hours of being in the water. You eat, you laugh, and you all swap stories about the things that you’ve missed since you last saw each other properly. It’s bliss. Perfect tranquility.

The sun sets, and you all move outside to the deck. Santi starts a campfire, and the five of you grab beers, settling into the warmth of the crackling wood. Everyone is relaxed, not a care in the world. You wish, for a moment, that life could always be like this. As if reading your thoughts, Will reaches out and brushes your cheekbone with his thumb in a fleeting moment, before retracting his hand as if nothing happened.

“I’m gonna make us some warm ciders,” Frankie decides, rising from his chair.

“I’ll come and help you. You always put way too much alcohol in - these idiots can’t handle it,” you signal towards where Benny, Will and Santiago are sat. They all scoff at you, laughing because they know it’s true.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You sit atop the counter next to where Frankie begins gathering his ingredients. When a strand of hair falls into his eyes, you move it away gently.

“Will you let me cut your hair tomorrow? It’s getting in your way,” you ask him softly.

“Of course, mi amor. Wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

He smiles at you, and your heart swells. You love this man so much - some days you wonder how you got so lucky. All five of you are bonded for life, best friends until the end. But there’s no denying that you and Frankie have always understood each other on another level.

He stops making the drinks, moving to stand between your legs. He looks at you intently, as if he’s trying to solve something.

“I like seeing you happy like this,” he murmurs.

“How can I not be?” you whisper back. “I’m with my favourite people. I have everything I could ever want.”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

You scrunch your brows in confusion, and he chuckles. He begins to draw slow circles just above your bare knee. You can tell he’s thinking carefully.

“It’s Will, isn’t it?” he asks, gentle smile on his face.

In this moment, you could lie. You could feign innocence, deny it with your life, maintain that you and Will are just friends. But what’s the use? Why hide the best thing that’s ever happened to you from one of the people you love the most in the world?

“Yeah,” you grin. “It’s Will.”

He’s practically beaming at you now, equal parts proud of himself and you.

“Knew it,” he murmurs, careful to keep his voice down. “Did something happen?”

You realise now that there’s absolutely no point in lying to Frankie. You’ve come this far. Might as well tell him the truth.

“We’re engaged,” you whisper, grinning from ear to ear.

He pauses for a moment, processing the news. You can see the shock registering on his face. Then, he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around you.

“Oh my god, hermosa! You’re kidding!”

He’s squeezing you so tight you can barely breathe. You hear a shout from the boys outside and remember where you are.

“We haven’t told anyone yet. We’re just living in our little bubble of happiness for a while.”

“Hey, I get it,” he reassures. “I’m so happy for you. Both of you. I knew it’d happen eventually. It was just a question of when.”

You hug him again, so overwhelmed with love. What a miracle, to be loved like this by so many brilliant people.

“We’ll tell everyone soon, I promise. We were thinking of making it a party, a whole celebration.”

“Of course. Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

He pinches your knee playfully, before making his way back to his drinks, smile still plastered across his face.

“Hey, Francisco?” you murmur, still aware of the volume of your voice.

“Yeah?” he turns, giving you his full attention.

“So, I know it’s not traditional, but, I mean, when have me and Will ever done traditional?” you both laugh, and you continue. “I was just thinking – and you don’t have to say yes… I’d love it if you did, but really, you don’t have to – “

“Spit it out, mi amor,” he teases gently.

“Will you be my best man?”

He stops in his tracks, suddenly serious, and you’re worried you’ve made a mistake. Then, he breaks out into a grin, practically running over to bear hug you again.

“Of course I will,” he confirms into your ear. “I’d love nothing more.”

“I love you,” you tell him earnestly.

“I love you too, hermosa. So much.”

Frankie kisses you on the forehead once, then again, and begins to pick up the drinks he’s made.

“They’re gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long. You know how they get,” he winks, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You sit in your happiness for a little while, just basking in the glow. You’ve never felt so at peace.

Will wanders into the kitchen, immediately coming over to stand in front of you. His warm palms find your hips, and he leans in to kiss you softly.

“Hi, sugar,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Hi, handsome,” you mutter back.

“You okay? You disappeared,” he asks, fingers moving in warm circles on the bare skin of your waist.

“I’m good. So good,” you smile, kissing him again.

It’s then you realise what you’ve done. You broke the rule – don’t tell the boys.

“Will?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I have something I need to confess.”

He pulls away so he can see your face, and smiles at you gently, before putting the pieces together in his head.

“You told Frankie, didn’t you?” he asks, still smiling.

There’s a pause before you bare your truth.

“Yes. I’m sorry! He kind of figured it out himself, and he asked, and I didn’t have the heart to lie to him. He’s my best friend, he can see right through me at any given moment. I know I was the one who said we shouldn’t tell them and I know this makes me a hypocrite and I’m sorry – “

Will cuts you off - just like that day in his kitchen - by smashing his lips to yours.

“It’s okay. Sweetheart, it’s okay,” he reassures when you pull away.

“Really?”

“Yes. I promise.”

He rests his forehead against yours, and allows you to breathe him in. Then, he chuckles softly.

“What?” you ask.

“We’re idiots,” he replies.

“I mean, yes. But why?”

He chuckles again, clearly amused, before answering,

“I totally just told Benny and Santi while you were in here telling Frankie.”

You process the information, before bursting into a fit of giggles. He joins you, the both of you laughing like fools.

“You’re kidding!”

“I wish I was. Benny made a comment, said he’s kinda noticed that something has changed, and I just sort of confessed.”

You’re both laughing so hard your sides hurt. What are the chances? It all feels like fate. The two of you, together. The timing of the evening. It couldn’t have worked out any more perfect.

“We’re idiots,” you agree, throwing your arms around his neck. Will pulls you off the counter and spins you around, making you shriek. It’s the most beautiful déjà vu.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The two of you make your way back out to the deck. As you walk over to the boys at the campfire, you’re suddenly caught off guard by two of them rugby tackling you, the three of you barrelling into the ground with a thud. Benny and Santiago are crushing you beneath them, shouting as they do it.

“Congratulations!”

“Hell yeah, sweetheart!”

“How did you even keep this a secret for so long?”

“Yeah, when were you planning to tell us, huh?”

“Can’t believe you’re marrying my brother. Oh my god, we’re gonna be family!”

“The five of us are already family, Ben.”

“Yeah, but, like, legally. Brother and sister!”

Benny’s hair is in your mouth and Santiago’s knee is in your ribcage and your earring is caught in someone’s shirt and the grass is scratching your back and you can’t breathe. Will and Frankie are watching from a distance, chuckling. You wouldn’t change it for the world.

Tranquility.

[pimosworld]

The ties that bind

Pairing- Dave York x f!reader x Francisco Morales

Series Summary-Dave is a private investigator who tracks down soulmates. He’s tasked to find Frankie’s, but what happens when he finds you and he wants you to himself?

CW-18+,MDNI, Angst,Fluff,Eventual Smut,Hurt, Comfort,MMF dynamics. General warnings for each chapter. Anything sensitive will be added to individual chapters.

WK-5.5K

A/N-This starts out angsty but I don’t write sad endings so keep that in mind going forward. Reader has a best friend very near and dear to my heart.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter I

Dave looks over the file on his desk again before he makes the call. He reviewed it the night before and was going to contact the client until he realized not everyone holds the same weird hours as he does. Insomnia. 

  He takes a sip of his coffee as he dials the number with a Florida area code. At least he would get to enjoy some nice weather this time. The last soulmate he tracked down mid winter lived in Buffalo New York, he wasted weeks trying to find him only to find out he was happily married and had no intention of leaving his current wife. The woman who hired him was devastated but…devastated doesn’t pay the bills so she was out twenty grand, and went back to being single a few states over. 

  They don’t always end in misery but he’s used to it now. He wonders why he still does it, maybe helping these people will erase the thought of killing someone’s soulmate when he’s contracted for his other job. He can’t think about that one too much. 

  “Hello Santiago speaking.” Dave glances down at the file once more to be sure. 

  “Ugh yes I’m Dave York calling to reach Francisco Morales?” He hears a low curse on the other end and some apologies. 

  “Oh ya, just give me a second.” He can hear ruffling and the sound of a sliding door. My patience is already wearing thin. 

  “Thanks for returning my call. I’m actually hiring you on behalf of my friend Francisco.” 

  This wouldn’t be the first time he was contracted to find someone’s soulmate because some friend or family member couldn’t keep their nose where it belonged. There would most certainly be drama and resistance. Two things Dave did not handle well. 

  “That’s very generous of you. Is Francisco eager to find his soulmate?” 

  “He ugh…well…yes, yes he is.” Fat chance

  “I would need to meet him of course to go through with this, you understand?” 

  “Of course, that won’t be a problem at all. I sent you the details of when and where we can meet and provided you with the deposit.” At least he means business, either way Dave doesn’t care about the in’s and outs of why people do it. He knows it’s important… or at least he did. 

  He finishes going over the rules with Santiago that will hopefully get relaid to Frankie. He’ll find your soulmate and set up a meeting. If the person does not wish to pursue the relationship he will relay that to you to avoid any in person embarrassment. No stalking or harassment involved. If he can’t find them within 30 days you get your money back. 

  Some people frowned upon what he did. Purists thought you should meet your soulmate organically. They were rarely alone for more than a few years before they found theirs so he didn’t like listening to what they had to say. 

  He wasted years trying to find his love. When he did find her…it was already too late. Those six months were the best and worst of his life. Knowing he’s found his soulmate and gets to spend every waking moment with her only to have it ripped from his grasp. 

  If he had to spend the rest of his tortured life helping others not waste time then he would. 

  ****

  Why the hell did Will make them wear bow ties? This must be Amanda’s suggestion, there’s no way he decided they should all be this uncomfortable on his wedding day. 

  Frankie looks over at Ben and Will having some brotherly talk as if the younger miller has some wise words of advice having been married for all of six months. He loved rubbing it in that he was able to tie the knot before the rest of them of course excluding Tom who got married years ago when they were all in basic. 

  He tries really hard not to be bitter on these days but he can’t help himself. Of course he ran that risk when he married someone who was not his soulmate. He loved Sophia so much it didn’t matter to him. It’s worked out for plenty of other people and it worked for him…until it didn’t. 

  He didn’t try very hard to find his soulmate. Between being in the military, not being able to put down roots for so long and the fact that his soulmate probably hated him for all his scars and tattoos he can’t say he put much of an effort into finding them. 

  The hummingbird tattoo on his wrist practically taunted him his entire marriage. He pretended he didn’t care and so did she. She always told him they would try for kids when she was ready and he never pushed. He thought she was finally ready when she told him they needed to talk. Never in a million years did he expect her to say she found her soulmate and she was leaving him. 

  Their baby boy should be a year old by now, Sophia was pregnant within a month of the divorce being finalized. This was information Santiago insisted despite the others protests that he needed to know so that he could move on. 

  He can’t put the blame all on her. He left for Colombia to bring home money so they could start a family and he came home with nothing but news that her best friend's husband was dead. 

  It must be some kind of fucked up karma that they went back for the money and now he’s alone. If he’s really being honest with himself, he knows they never really loved each other. It was convenient for both of them. Frankie doesn’t like being honest with himself so he'd rather continue on painting her as the villain in his story. 

  “Hermano, you need some help with that tie.” Santiago starts fidgeting before he can even answer no. He slaps his hands away and Santi backs away with his hands up in surrender. 

  “Why are you being so nice?” 

  “I’m always nice.” Frankie scoffs at that. Santiago was never nice unless he wanted something from you. 

  “You picked up my tux, gave me a ride here and now you’re offering to fix my tie?!” He gives him a look and Santi knows it’s only a matter of time. 

  “I have a surprise for you.” He resumes fixing his tie despite Frankie’s protests. 

  “The last time you surprised me someone died.” Santi clears his throat but doesn’t protest, it must be bad. 

  “I hired a PI to find your soulmate.” That last part is rushed out but Frankie hears him clear as day. 

  He shoves him back a few steps which draws the attention of Ben and Will. “Why the fuck would you do that?” 

  “Chill out Fish, what’s your problem?” Ben steps between the two of them as Frankie looks as though he could spit fire. 

  “I told him about the PI.” Ben whips around to Santi. 

  “I thought we were gonna wait until tomorrow.” Frankie looks over at Will in disbelief. 

  “You fucking knew about this?” He can see it in their eyes and how no one will look at him directly.

  “Can we please talk about this tomorrow? I’m getting married in an hour.” 

  Sure he’ll talk tomorrow, they can all talk about staying out of his life and meddling in his business. Pope can call off the PI and they can all go back to being happy with their soulmates and Santiago can go fuck off somewhere in another country as he always does, leaving Frankie to mope alone with his thoughts. 

  “Ya we’ll talk tomorrow.” Ben comes over to fix his tie and Frankie clenches his fists at his side. 

  This is going to be a long day. 

  ****

  The new Mr.& Mrs. Miller do look very in love on the dance floor as Frankie enjoys his second piece of cake. Cake never betrayed him…his ex wife and his best friends maybe but never cake. 

  Ben dips his wife and it sorely reminds him of his wedding day when he and Sophia ended up with calloused feet from dancing all night. 

  His chest tightens at the sight of Molly dancing with her girls. She stayed so strong through it all and she looks so happy, maybe it’s just a front or maybe she’s choosing not to be a miserable sap like him. She lost her soulmate and never once judged them for what they did. She knew how Tom could be. Frankie doesn’t know how someone could treat their soulmate the way Tom treated Molly. He’s better off alone than with a soulmate who doesn’t love him back. 

  Santiago makes his way over to the table and gestures to the seat next to Frankie. He nods his head for him to sit down while he watches the dance floor. They sit in silence for a moment and Frankie thinks about how selfish he is for being so petulant about the whole thing. 

  Santiago never cared about finding his soulmate, maybe because of their line of work or maybe it was the nature of his being. He’ll never forget the look on his face when his tattoo’s disappeared. He told the guys it was fine but they could hear him trying to muffle his cries in his bunk. 

  “I’ll do it Pope.” Santiago looks at him with a mixture of shock and excitement. 

  “I came ready for an argument.” He slides Frankie’s plate closer to him to steal a bite of cake. “We meet him tomorrow.” 

  “Jesus what if I said no?” Frankie slides the plate back to himself, not ready to let go of his precious dessert. 

  “You might want to lay off the cake if you’re going to meet your soulmate soon.” Frankie flips him off as Santi grabs the plate and saunters off to the dance floor. 

  ****

  Dave’s always early to meet a client, but never this early. He couldn’t find a lot of information on Francisco Morales but he did find out he was Delta Force and so was the man that hired him on his behalf. He always met potential clients in a public place of their choosing to get an idea of who they are. There's no doubt in his mind that this coffee shop holds no significance to the two men and will most certainly not help him figure out anything about Francisco. 

  He knows it’s their military training that they will never seem to break free from. It doesn’t make it easy for your soulmate to find you when you're as mysterious as Francisco Morales. No social media, no parking tickets, no convictions. A minor hiccup with his pilot's license but his record was scrubbed clean a few years ago. It takes a lot of money to completely wipe your record. 

  Their trip to Colombia wasn’t as off the books as they thought. With Dave’s connections he can find out a lot more about the average person than they think. It’s true he is paid to find your soulmate but he has a duty to uphold to not put said person in harm's way. Frankie’s sketchy past and interesting finances make him a little wary to just introduce him to the person he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life with. He doesn’t know the circumstances behind his wife leaving him and that also has his guard up. Who just up and leaves after 8 years? 

  He pauses his thoughts momentarily as he notices an old Jeep pull into the parking lot of the cafe. He hasn’t seen a Jeep like that in years. His suspicions are correct when two men around his age step out. Still relatively in military shape, the shorter of the two in a black t-shirt much too tight for him and black jeans. The taller one in an open flannel and blue jeans donning a dirty cap and aviators…that must be Francisco. 

  They both survey the area as if it’s their first time here and that confirms his other notion that these men wanted to meet somewhere not near their home. Probably thirty minutes to an hour outside of where they actually live if he would guess. Fifteen minutes early to be safe but still not earlier than him. 

  “I should’ve worn something nicer.” Frankie smooths his hands down the front of his worn flannel as they approach the coffee shop. This was his nice flannel but maybe he could’ve taken an iron to it or something. 

  “Relax hermano, he didn’t bring your soulmate to the meeting.” 

  “You vetted this guy?” Frankie couldn’t find much information on David York, which worried him a little. 

  “As much as I could.” Frankie holds the door open for Santiago as they enter and head straight for the counter. Coffee is much needed after imbibing too much at the wedding. He’s grateful in hindsight that he chose this location just outside of town. 

  “Corner,black suit.” 

  Frankie glances up, hopefully shielded by his sunglasses. “He looks smug.” 

  “Don’t start.” Santi hisses under his breath as he steps up to place their order. “ Two black coffees please.” 

  Best case scenario, this guy finds his soulmate and Frankie can’t even wrap his head around what he would do with that information. It scares him to even think about it. 

  Worst case scenario, Pope is out some money that he didn’t ask him to spend in the first place and he can go back to whatever semblance of a life he was living before all this. 

  Way to be positive Frankie

  ****

  Introductions are awkward to say the least. Frankie and Santi seated at the small cafe table across from Dave who has set a notepad down next to his small coffee. The silence is deafening as he scribbled down a few things after giving them a once over. 

  “So I’m sure you have some questions for me. If you don’t mind holding those until I’ve gone over everything.” He’s not really asking and Frankie already had his hackles up at the grim outlook of the man in front of him. 

  He always hated ‘suits’ . This guy is obviously ex-government and he’s not really sure how someone like him ended up in the line of work of finding someone’s soulmate. Besides the obvious monetary aspect there is a lot of love and emotion involved and the man seated before him doesn’t strike him as the romantic type. 

  “Why did you decide to hire me to find your soulmate?” I didn’t hire you. Frankie looks over at Santiago hoping he’ll help him out a little. 

  “Well ugh…I actually didn’t.” Dave raises his eyebrows at that but lets him continue. “My friend here was kind enough to give me a push in the right direction.” After too many drinks and a lot of talking he reconciled with Santi that this was something he should at least try to pursue. 

  Everything seems pretty straightforward once he starts going over his normal way of doing things. Frankie understands after the initial round of uncomfortable questions that Dave needs to make sure he’s not some weirdo. He opted to return a few peoples initial deposit upon meeting them and not deeming them safe enough or sane enough to track down their soulmate and uproot their lives. 

  Frankie’s thankful he doesn’t pry too much into his reason for divorcing. Dave mostly wanted to make sure that he was not still legally married because he won’t set anyone up for heartbreak. 

  Dave has a thirty day guarantee, if he doesn’t find them in that time frame you get a full refund. Frankie is a little shocked at his confidence. People spend their entire lives trying to find their soulmate and he can somehow guarantee it. 

  “So, now that I’ve gone over all the logistics. Do you have any questions for me?” Frankie looks to Santiago who’s been uncharacteristically quiet throughout this meeting. Maybe out of courtesy for Frankie or perhaps he’s sizing him up. Either way, Frankie really only has one thing he is curious about. 

  “Why do you do it?” 

  Dave takes a sip of his lukewarm coffee. It’s pretty bad if he’s being honest but he needs a moment. He always needs a moment when this question is brought up. It’s usually one of the only questions he hates answering. Truthfully answering would require to let people in ‘strangers’. 

  These same strangers trust him enough to do this so as uncomfortable as it is he provides enough of an answer to suit both parties. 

  “I hate to say that it pays well, but I have to state the obvious.” For the first time during the meeting Frankie can see his hard exterior crack a little. The first time where he seems nervous and unsure of what he’s going to say. 

  “Also…I wish I had met my wife sooner. I may have had more time with her.” 

  Santiago excuses himself from the table. He doesn’t do well with emotions. Frankie knows that probably stung a little. He’s not sure if it’s worse that Santi never got to meet them or if meeting them briefly makes it all that more painful. 

  “I appreciate your honesty Dave.” He sends him a tight lip smile that doesn’t meet the eyes. 

  “If that’s all you have for me I’ll be in touch in the next few days hopefully with an update.” 

  Frankie shakes his hand, a firm handshake he notes to himself. Dave has a nice build, he’s not sure why he makes a note of that as well. 

  Frankie finished the rest of his coffee and headed outside. Santi leans against the back of the Jeep scrolling idly on his phone. He looks up at him but says nothing as they both get in, Frankie in the driver's seat. 

  “I just needed some air.” Santiago looks out the passenger window seemingly fixated on the passing cars. 

  “I know hermano.” He doesn’t need to say anything more. 

  Neither of them speak for a while, too many thoughts on their minds as they ponder the meeting and what all of it means. Seeing Santiago still struggling with losing his soulmate makes Frankie want to give this his all. 

  ****

  Santi can’t shake the thought of Dave doing all this because he didn’t have enough time with his soulmate. At least he got to spend some time with them. He's lied to himself all these years after his tattoos and scars of his soulmate were long gone. This was not about him though, this is about helping his friend move on and be happy. That’s all he wants for them after the chaos he caused in Colombia. He has to make things right for him. Frankie may not see it as his fault but Santiago can’t help but think maybe Sophia would’ve stayed if things hadn’t gone so poorly. 

  Santiago would never know that things started to sour in their relationship long before that Ill fated trip to steal someone else’s money. 

  Frankie was the one who had it all together. A real job he could be proud of , a wife he loved , a house for their future family. Things quickly fell apart for him after they returned and he was no longer the one that they looked to for guidance. 

  Santiago made it his mission to help Frankie get back on his feet after they went back for the money. Frankie got his license back, he bought a home that didn’t remind him of all his memories with his ex wife, now all he needed to do was find love. 

  Santi rubs his hands across his jeans trying to shake himself from the trance. Frankie eyes him cautiously from the driver’s seat. 

  Santiago leans forward to turn the radio down. “So how are you feeling about all this?” 

  “Considering he has a guarantee, a little better than I felt going in.” 

  He doesn't want to get his hopes up too much but he’s starting to get that feeling like things may be taking a turn for the better. 

  Frankie pulls up to Santi’s house and puts the car in park. 

  “I know what you’re gonna say, I’ll be fine I promise and I’ll call you later after I sleep off this hangover.” Frankie smiles at that,Santiago only lets a select few into his world and he won’t push it any further. 

  “I just want to say thanks Pope. This really means a lot.” Santi waves him off and hops out, he knows how much it means but he’s not gonna get any more emotions out of this day. 

  “Love you hermano, this time next year we’ll be planning your wedding.” Santi calls out over his shoulder before he enters his house. Frankie wants to roll his eyes at that but he secretly hopes that he’s right. 

  ****

  “Alicia! We’re gonna be late.” You stand in your bedroom in front of the floor length mirror putting the finishing touches on your makeup. The modest yellow sundress and strappy heels you bought ages ago are finally getting some use. 

  “I can’t decide on what to wear.” You faintly hear her yell from her bedroom. 

  You’re not particularly excited about this singles event she signed you up for but you certainly didn’t want to walk in late and have all eyes on you. She’s your best friend so you agreed to accompany her on one of her many schemes to get you back on the dating scene. 

  You cross the hall to her room and find a mountain of clothes on her bed and more clothes flying out of her closet. 

  “Let me see what you’re wearing.” She emerges from her closet in a slinky black dress to match her long black hair. She was a bombshell in anything she wore so you aren’t sure what the hold up is. 

  “Alicia that looks hot, wear that.” She gives herself a once over in the mirror as she smooths her hands down the front. 

  “You don’t think this is sending the wrong message?” 

  “Babe you said yourself you need to get laid.” You glance down at the time on your phone. “Shit we’re gonna be really late.”

  “You’re right, I did say that. Thanks for talking me off a ledge.” She grabs her phone from the nightstand as you follow her out of the room. 

  “You’re gonna need to pretend my room is yours if you bring someone home though.” You gesture towards the disaster she left on her bed. 

  She turns to you, grabbing your face and kissing your forehead. “Only a true friend would let me defile her bed for the sake of a hookup.”

  You laugh as you shoo her along out the door. “That’s what friends are for.”

  ****

  The bad news, you were indeed late. The good news is no one seems to notice as you both enter the hotel lounge for the event. Everyone is talking and mingling amongst themselves so you and Alicia have an opportunity to grab a drink and settle in. 

  You haven’t been on a proper date in years so she thought this would be a nice way to ease back into things. No pressure or obligations and no awkward first date etiquette. People were just here to simply talk and get to know each other. If you made a connection that was great but if you just didn’t like someone then there were no hard feelings. 

  “Cute guy at twelve o'clock is checking you out.” You try to do a subtle scan of the room as you sip your fruity drink. 

  “Alicia I don’t know what that means…Wait how do you know he wasn’t checking you out?” She steps in front of you to slightly block your view. 

  “He’s in the gray button down on my right .” She half whispers as she attempts a head nod. “Do you see him?” 

  “Oh shit he’s coming over here.” You both do your best worst to act casual as a tall and very attractive…distractingly attractive man walks over. 

  “I do have to say yellow is definitely your color.” 

  “Told you.” Alicia says under her breath as she leaves you at the bar with this stranger. 

  You thank him politely for his compliment and introduce yourself as you try to ignore the lewd gestures your best friend is making with her hands behind his back. Thankfully she’s interrupted by a man with a tap on her shoulder. He’s noticeably not the type she goes for. He’s much too tall for her…she prefers to tower over her love interests ‘it makes me feel powerful’ in her words. 

  Jeff was nice enough as he engaged you in conversation. He mostly droned on about his job in finance and his hobbies, his five year goals and now come to think of it…you didn’t really get a chance to talk about yourself. He excused himself from the conversation when he saw someone he knew in the crowd, leaving you in your comfortable silence once again. 

  Your moment of reprieve is short lived when a woman approaches you. You actually enjoy talking to her and you can tell she’s listening intently. She’s beautiful, funny and smart. Perhaps another time you would be interested but she mentioned she just got out of a long term relationship and you don’t have the energy to be someone’s rebound. You’ve spent years repairing your broken heart and if this is your one attempt at trying to find love again it just wouldn’t be fair to either of you. 

  You still exchanged numbers after she’d said how nice it was to meet you. Your eyes immediately find Alicia’s across the room with a man who could be her grandfather. He doesn’t seem to notice her look of save me etched across her face. You take this moment to tease her a bit, making the same hand motions she did earlier. An older woman looks on in shock when you realize a little too late that you’ve caught the attention of others in the room. 

  After offering an apologetic smile, you gather yourself and join her across the room. 

  “Sorry to interrupt, Alicia, can I borrow you for a moment.”

   She loops her arm in yours pulling you close to her side. “It was nice to meet you Irving.”

  “The pleasure is all mine dear.” He takes her free hand, planting a sloppy wet kiss on the top. You bite your cheek to stifle a laugh as she waves him off. You can feel her eyes on you as you exit the lounge. 

  If looks could kill you’d be a goner. 

  “Irving seemed nice.”

  “Shut up.” 

  You both burst into a fit of giggles as you make it safely to the hotel lobby out of sight of anyone trying to vy for your attention. 

  These were the moments you lived for with your best friend. The reason you were able to get back on your feet when you moved across the country to start your life over. She took you in like a stray cat, no questions asked when you replied to her ad looking for a roommate. You didn’t find out until later on that she didn’t need the money, she just hated living alone. 

  She came from a wealthy family and traveled the world before settling in Naples Florida. She never had a soulmate…it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to go their entire lives without so much as a mark or tattoo. It makes you wonder if the universe chooses at random or if people are destined for that path. She is such a free spirit it almost makes sense why she can’t be tied down to just one person. Her biggest problem is making sure her current interests aren't only after her for money. 

  “So…what’s the plan for the rest of the evening babe?” You both step out still arm in arm. It’s a beautiful sunset starting just over the tops of the buildings downtown. You could walk down to the beach or drab a drink at another bar. 

  You can feel your dress starting to cling to your back from the humidity and you made a huge mistake wearing heels that weren’t broken in yet. Alicia looks at you and then pulls out her phone to call a car to come get you. “Let’s go home and eat ice cream while we discuss what a train wreck that was.” 

  You let out a sigh of relief as you push back trying to stand on the heels of your feet. “That sounds like a perfect night.” 

  ****

  “At one point he actually took his dentures out to show me.” Alicia buries her head in the pillow as you make a disgusted face. 

  “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.” You’re laughing to the point of a stomach ache. 

  “Ya, you sound really sorry.” She throws the pillow at you on the other end of the couch. “So tell me about the girl. You were talking to her for a while.” She raises one eyebrow at you as she reaches down to the coffee table for the carton of rocky road. 

  “She was nice.” You lean forward grabbing the carton from her hands. “She was more than nice actually…but she just got out of a serious relationship.” 

  “Ugh…no one wants to be a rebound.” 

  Your thoughts exactly. 

  You swear sometimes you share a brain, or maybe you have just spent so much time with each other that you can’t help but think alike. 

  “I’m glad we went, I needed to break the ice. It’s not like the love of my life is gonna waltz into the record store.” You loved your job, you always had a love for music. There was something so special about the medium of records standing the test of time. That’s the kind of love you wanted. 

  “Let’s just marry each other if this dating thing doesn’t work out.” She holds out her pinky as you wrap yours around hers. 

  “Deal.” 

  “Deal.” 

  You raise from the couch gathering your plush blankets. “I’m gonna turn in for the night, love you leesh.” 

  “Love you too hon’, get some sleep.”

  ****

  Sleep

  That was a joke in its own right. The problem with having anxiety is the one time where your brain should quiet down is when it wants to be the most active. 

  You brush your thumb along the etched roses on your ring finger. It’s such a fine and delicate tattoo, the line work is beautiful and the stem of it perfectly curls around coming to a point at the end of your finger. 

  You hate to assume, but it’s always felt feminine in nature. It doesn’t seem like a drunken mistake or a rushed decision. The tattoo feels intentional. You had a lot of tattoos in a short amount of time when you were in college. These tattoos were overtly masculine. A small Blackhawk tattoo on your left wrist, almost mirroring your hummingbird. A gun of some kind on your left ankle…you weren’t familiar with firearms. A tiny elephant on the inside of your left thigh, by far the most adorable of the set. 

  In short succession they all adorned your body before you graduated from the California Institute of the Arts with a minor in arts management and a major in music history. Your step mother always said it was a waste and your father couldn’t be bothered to defend you. Your mother would have been proud though. 

  It was years before the roses showed up on your finger one beautiful spring day. It was so unlike the others it turned your world upside down. 

  The reason you moved across the country to escape the control and the pressure of someone who couldn’t love you with those scars and tattoos. Resenting you more and more each day knowing that you belonged to someone else. 

  It’s those thoughts that keep you up at night. The nightmares and horrible things that only your mind thinks up. As much as you try to push those thoughts away, you know deep down someone is out there. Made for you. 

  We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses. 

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[guess-my-next-obsession]

Meet Me In The Hallway, Chapter Four:

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

rating: M (lots of sexual pining but nothing explicit in this chapter, weed consumption, talks of past addiction, one mention of frankie’s past as a government paid pew-pewer, 1 asshole male interaction, alcohol consumption, dick talk, foul language)

wc: 4.4k

series masterlist | frankie masterlist

It had been three days since the bathroom incident. Three days of the two of them acting like nothing ever happened. Three days of absolute torture.

Dylan couldn’t sleep, not with the memory of his mouth on hers playing over and over in her mind, not with the way she swore she could still feel his fingers curling into her, the mere imagining bringing her close to the edge but it was never enough to finish the job. Nothing was, in fact. Not her hand, not the toy in her nightstand, nothing. Nothing but him would suffice from now on, but she refused to be the first one to break, not when he seemed to be doing fine without her.

Needing relief, Dylan grabbed a joint she kept hidden away in her nightstand, her eyes narrowing at the bullet vibrator that couldn’t manage to do the job as well as her roommate across the hall. With a mildly forceful slam, she closed the drawer and sighed as she slipped her slippers on.

She crept through the hall, twirling the joint in her hand as she walked, but right as she passed the living room to slide open the patio door, the sound of a little girl’s giggles made her freeze in place. Turning around, she spotted Frankie and Rina in the kitchen, a bowl of ice cream beside the five year old as she sat on the kitchen island.

“Can we have a little more?” she asked, lacing her tone with sweetness just to assure she got her way.

“I don’t know, you’ve already—“ Frankie spotted Dylan mid-sentence, his eyes lingered in visible reverence that made her golden skin flush. Frankie seemingly realized himself, his eyes flickering to the sundae he had finished with his daughter's help. “We’re, uh, having ice cream, you want some?”

“Definitely in a little,” you subtly held up the joint in your hand, causing his brows to raise and his head to nod in understanding. “Ri, make sure your dad saves me some.”

“Okay, but hurry, daddy’s gonna eat it all if you take too long,” she replied, earning an eye roll from her father before he scooped a bit of whipped cream from the bowl and dotted it on her nose.

“I promise I’ll save you some,” he offered, looking back to Dylan with the kind of smile that reminded her why she needed the help of weed to relax in the first place. It seemed Frankie was hell bent on winding her up to the point of madness. With a nod, she turned around and slid the patio door open before walking out to the furthest corner of the yard to do her smoking.

By the time she entered the house again, she was already in the clouds, a warm, happy buzz fixing a permanent smile onto her face as she found her way into the now-empty kitchen. Dead set on getting the ice cream she was promised, she opened the freezer door and found the pint of Ben and Jerry’s.

“Hey,” Frankie appeared out of nowhere as she closed the door, making her jump. “Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you’re good,” she sighed out the remainder of her fright, resting her hand over her heart as she walked the pint over to the island and set it down before reaching in the utensil drawer to fish out a spoon. “Rina crash already?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, pulling up a seat at the island and resting his elbows on the countertop. “So…we haven’t gotten the chance to talk about what happened yet.”

“No, we haven’t,” she agreed as she leaned forward onto the island and stuck her spoon in the pint to pick up some of the strawberry ice cream. “Was starting to think it was a hallucination.”

“No, it was real,” he smirked at the memory. “I just…I guess I’ve been a little nervous to say anything. Didn’t…didn’t really know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Frankie,” she replied, her voice thick with desire. Her eyes fell to his lips, the weed only making her want him more as she watched his tongue swipe over the plumpness of his bottom lip.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he confessed in a whisper, forcing her eyes to meet his again. She stuck her spoon in her mouth upside down, her eyes remaining locked with his as she slowly sucked it clean, eliciting a deep but soft groan from him. “Have you…been thinking about me?”

“All the time,” she whispered. Frankie swallowed thickly before standing up. He kept his eyes on hers as he rounded the corners of the island until he was turning her to back her against the edge of the countertop. She placed her spoon in the pint and focused her full attention on him, resting one hand on his face with the other laid over his heartbeat. “You finally gonna kiss me, Frankie?”

He nodded, a smile flickering on his lips as his eyes fell to hers. Leaning in slow enough to make her whine, he was just about to crash their lips together when the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs pulled them apart. Frankie turned around, pretending to be making himself a glass of tea while Dylan returned to her ice cream. Will rounded the corner, shirtless and rubbing his stomach, his eyes hardly open.

“What are you two doing awake? It’s what, three a.m.?”

“It’s eleven, man. You just go to bed at eight like an old man,” Frankie replied.

“Which one of you smells like weed?” Will asked next as he opened a cabinet and pulled out a glass before going to the fridge and filling it with water.

“Me,” Frankie replied, taking the heat.

“Aren’t you supposed to be quitting that shit? You have your drug testing for your new job coming up in like two weeks,” he scolded, making Dylan’s stomach churn with guilt.

“Yeah, I know. Last time,” Frankie grumbled, his back still turned as he set the kettle in the stove before turning it on.

“I’ve heard that before,” Will chided with an eye roll. “Just…be responsible, man. For Rina.”

“I know, Will,” he snapped, turning to look at his friend with a stern face. “Go back to bed.”

“Alright,” he sighed, glancing over at Dylan. “Night, Dyl.”

“Night,” she managed, watching him as he walked away before bringing her eyes back to Frankie. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Rather have him bitch at me than you,” he returned from over his shoulder as he watched the kettle heat.

“Well, I wouldn’t.” Dylan placed the lid on the pint of ice cream before putting it back inside the freezer. Frankie remained silent as Dylan walked her spoon over to the sink and washed it. “You didn’t tell me you got a job.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Got the call last week. S’why I haven’t joined you outside in a while. Gotta pass the entry drug test.”

“Well, it’s good that you’re getting back to flying. What’s, uh, your schedule going to be like?” she asked as she dried her hands. Frankie turned to look at her, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned his hip against the counter.

“Busy. Worryingly busy, especially because of Rina,” he sighed. “And…just…I won’t be here very much, you know.”

“This your way of telling me something?”

“Just, you know, I’m not gonna be here a ton,” he replied, his eyes nervous as he searched hers. “I get it if you want to find someone who’s around instead.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked, her brows lacing together.

“Not really, but—“

“Then why say it?” Frankie shook his head and shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “Just want you to have what you deserve.”

“What if I think you’re what I deserve?” she asked, stumping him again. “Because I do. I think you’re what I deserve. What I want.”

“Even if you only get to see me once a week?” Dylan swallowed the longing she felt at the mere thought of him being away from her before answering.

“Yeah.”

Frankie chuckled and shook his head before turning back to the kettle, catching it just before it began to whistle and lifting it off the heat.

“We’ll see,” he muttered. “One day at a time.”

“Yeah.” She walked up behind him and rubbed his shoulder. “One day at a time. Stop making me worry over shit I don’t need to worry about yet. We haven’t even kissed since—“

Frankie surprised her with his lips against hers, his hands strong as they held her waist tightly and carefully, like she was his most prized possession. Pulling away breathless, Frankie leaned his forehead against hers and panted.

“Was that okay?” he asked.

“More than,” she replied. “You…want to come to my room?”

He exhaled as if he was in pain before shaking his head against hers.

“I want to take you out first,” he whispered.

“I don’t care about all that—“

“I do,” he interrupted. “I care about it. About you.”

Dylan hadn’t ever been with a man so concerned with giving her what she deserved, she very clearly didn’t know how to handle it.

“Okay,” she breathed out a chuckle. “Well, I’m free whenever.”

“Gotta find a babysitter for Rina first, but maybe this weekend?” He pulled away, his thumb stroking over her hip as he held it. “I’ll be sure to avoid The Cantina.”

“That would be appreciated,” she giggled, looking down at his hands as she peeled them off her hips and intertwined his fingers with hers. “Don't make me wait too long, Morales. It’s torture watching you walk around knowing what these hands are capable of.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “And just so you know, it physically pains me to keep my hands off of you.”

“Well, whenever you’re ready to put them on me, you can,” she purred and he groaned.

“You’re gonna drive me crazy.”

“That’s the goal.”

Morning arrived and Dylan granted herself a day off to recover from her night of restless sleep, her late night talk with Frankie doing little to soothe her yearning. In fact, she wanted him even more now that she knew their time together would be drastically cut once he started work at the airline. But, like the gentleman he was, she had to wait for him to wine and dine her before she got another taste of him—but that didn’t mean she had to play fair in the meantime.

Getting up, Dylan walked over to her vanity and quickly styled her hair in messy, honey-blonde waves before doing her makeup, nothing intense but more than she ever typically wore around the house.

It was September now, but in Tampa, that hardly meant anything. It was still 90 degrees outside and sunny, which meant she could throw on her favorite bikini, a white tank top and denim shorts on to cover it, and head out to the beach for some sun.

Walking out into the hall, the house was already busy and full of life. Santi and Imelda were in the kitchen cooking breakfast and cleaning up simultaneously while Benny and Lennon remained curled up on the sectional watching some reality television show Lennon no-doubt chose on her own.

“Hey,” Dylan greeted Imelda with a smile as she entered the kitchen to pour herself some water.

“Bacon-egg burritos are coming up soon if you wanna wait for ‘em,” she announced in a sing-song tone. “I make the best breakfast burritos.”

“She does!” Benny agreed from the sofa.

“Going anywhere today?” Santi asked as he scrubbed away at the island counter.

“Was gonna go to the beach,” she answered between sips of her cold water. “You guys are welcome to come—“

“Fuck yeah,” Benny sprang up from the sofa with a boyish grin.

“Babe,” Lennon whined at his enthusiasm disrupting her comfortable position.

“You in bebé?” Santi asked Imelda and earned an eager nod. “We’re all in. Frankie and Will are outback waiting for Cassandra and Rina to get back from the grocery store, I’ll go—“

“No—“ Dylan interrupted him quickly, earning an eyebrow raise. “You’re cleaning. I’ll go ask.”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded skeptically. Dylan didn’t stay around to hear his teasing, her feet practically gliding over the tile to the patio door. “Give Frankie’s ass a kiss for me since you’re already—”

She cut him off with the closing of the patio door.

As she stepped out into the backyard, she spotted Will mowing the grass while Frankie trimmed the weeds around the fence with a weed-whacker. His back was sweaty, his gray t-shirt soaked along his spine. To make matters worse, the hat he nearly always kept on was now off, his chocolate waves also soaked with sweat from the sun.

She attempted to call out his name, but the loud buzz of both machines drowned her voice out, leaving her standing on the patio with her hands on her hips. Eventually, Frankie shut off the weed-whacker and turned to walk to the patio, finally noticing Dylan standing there with a tilted head and a smirk.

“Finally, you notice I’m here!” she called over the still-whirring buzz of the lawn mower. Frankie smiled to himself as he walked over to the patio to grab a half-drank bottle of water sitting on the table.

“You look good,” he commented with a smirk as his eyes raked over her form. “Going somewhere?”

“The beach,” she replied, smiling hopefully. “Everyone inside is going too. Came to ask if you guys wanted to join.”

“Yeah, uh—“ Frankie turned to Will and whistled loud enough to earn his attention. Will turned the mower off and wiped his face with his t-shirt before walking over. “Guess everyone’s going to the beach. You and Cass wanna join?”

“Wish we could but we’re going to lunch with her parents, but you all go get drunk for me,” he replied before going into the house, leaving Frankie and Dylan alone again.

“This some sort of torture thing?” he asked, pulling up a seat at the table. Dylan joined him, sitting in the chair across from him.

“I have no idea what you mean,” she shrugged and batted her eyes innocently.

“Oh? You have no idea that me having to watch you walk around in a bikini all day is actual torture?” he asked, leaning his elbows onto the table as he gave her a grin.

“Nope. Just a bikini…a tiny, string bikini,” she purred, sliding her fingertip beneath the string over her collarbone supporting her bikini top. Frankie shook his head at her and licked his lips.

“Not fair,” he grumbled as he sat back in his chair. “Should torture you by not going.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll be just fine without you there,” she retorted, attempting to sound nonchalant. Frankie only half-chuckled before standing up. “W-where are you going?”

“To change,” he replied, as if it was obvious. “Not going to risk you hitting it off with some lifeguard before I get to take you out on a real date.”

“Yeah, yeah. So far all you’re all talk, no action,” she teased, catching him as he reached for the patio door.

“Guess we’ll see,” he winked.

Dylan bit her lip as she watched him disappear into the house, her smile reaching her eyes as she sat there smitten as she ever was. Whatever this game they were playing was, she liked it. It was fun and exciting and so fucking torturous.

Frankie was sweating as he sat beneath the shade of the pop up tent Santi brought along to the beach and it had nothing to do with the 90 degree weather. He sat on a beach chair watching Dylan play in the sand with Rina, helping her learn how to play horseshoes. He tried playing too, just ten or so minutes ago, but physically couldn’t take being so close to her when all she had on was a tiny, barely fucking there white bikini on, her golden skin glowing in contrast to the fabric and blue sea behind her.

And he wasn’t the only one staring.

Frankie watched from the comfort of his isolation as an obvious gym rat walked across the beach from where his own party was set up to come say hello to Dylan. She seemed to be nervous over the interaction, keeping her eyes on the sand or on Rina as she tossed the horseshoes at the metal pole sticking out of the sand. Finding his courage, he decided he’d come over and offer her an out, if she wanted it, from this conversation.

“You work out?” Frankie overheard the younger guy, probably around twenty-five if he had to take a guess, ask. Dylan chuckled and shook her head in response.

“No,” she replied. “Not a masochist like that.”

“What’s that?”

Frankie couldn’t help but chuckle at the guy’s lack of vocabulary, earning Dylan’s attention.

“Hey,” she chirped, moving closer to him and further from the stranger. “You see the progress I made with her?”

“Yeah,” Frankie smiled and nodded, his eyes flickering to her friend who remained. When she gave him a widened stare and a subtle nudge of her head, he took his cue to intervene. “Hey man, you need something?”

“Nah, was just coming over to say hi to your sister,” he replied. Frankie didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes combed over Dylan’s body hungrily, like he’d pounce on her at any moment.

“I’m actually gonna just get back to my boyfriend,” Dylan spoke up, pointing at Frankie as she turned to the guy. Frankie felt his stomach full with butterflies at the title, even if it was only granted to get her out of this unwanted interaction.

“Boyfriend?” he chuckled, as if the mere thought of the two of them being together was preposterous. Frankie thought it was too. Dylan was beautiful, and not in a small-town way. She could make any head turn in any room anywhere, and Frankie…well, he was a shaggy ex-coke addict and former killer for the US government. Not exactly the kind of people anyone would think to put together.

“Listen,” Dylan started, her polite smile now gone as she folded her arms and glared at the young man. “I’m not interested. So, you can go back to your friends.”

“Crazy fucking bitch,” he muttered as he turned to walk away.

Frankie maintained his cool, growing docile in his thirty-six years, it seemed. A part of him wished he was still twenty-something and brave like an idiot so that this juice head could learn a lesson, but he reckoned his daughter and roommates wouldn’t care much for all of that.

“Sorry,” Dylan turned to Frankie and mumbled an apology, causing his brows to furrow.

“Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything,” he whispered back, not wanting Rina to overhear and get curious.

“Daddy!” Rina interrupted Dylan before she could reply, tugging on the hem of his t-shirt. “I wanna swim.”

“Why don’t you go with Uncle Benny and Lennon? They’re swimming, baby.” Frankie pointed into the water where Benny was currently splashing Dylan’s younger sister.

“I don’t wanna swim with them, I wanna swim with you,” she replied, frowning up at her father. Frankie sighed and nodded, sweeping her curls back before whispering an “okay”.

“Go grab your floaties, they’re under the shade,” he ordered, watching as his little girl went sprinting up the beach before turning back to Dylan. “I’m sorry that guy was a fucking prick, Dyl. I would’ve said something if Rina—“

“No, you’re fine,” she insisted, giving him a smile. “You coming over was all the help I needed. I can tell a dude to fuck off myself, but it’s nice to know I have someone in case—“

“Case the steroids takeover,” he joked, earning a chuckle.

“Yeah,” she hummed, eyes lingering on his. “Well, hey, I must look decent…to attract an ‘alpha’ male like him, I mean.”

“Now you’re just playing with me,” he rolled his eyes and smirked as Rina came running back up to him with her floaties on her biceps. Frankie scooped her up and perched her on his hip as she started squirming with excitement. “Come on bebecita, let’s get this outta your system.”

“Are you coming, Dyllie?” she asked as Frankie started to walk off towards the water.

“Do you want me to?” Dylan asked and Frankie tensed. Now she was not only going to be in that bikini, but she was going to get wet in it, too? He wasn’t sure how much more he could take of this torture. “You know what, Ri, I think I’m just going to go over and help Uncle Santi and Imelda with the hot dogs.”

Frankie breathed a sigh of relief and continued on towards the water with his daughter mumbling a complaint over Dylan’s rejection.

“What, you like Dylan now? I thought you didn’t?” Frankie asked playfully, though he knew his daughter’s initial distrust and reluctance over bonding with her new roommate ended a couple weeks after she’d moved in.

“Daddy, that’s a lie. I love Dyllie,” she scolded her father sternly as they arrived at the water. Frankie apologized with a smirk, his heart growing warm at the knowledge that the woman he’d started to fall for already had the seal of approval from the most important person in his life.

It was then that he decided that all this waiting had to end. He needed to make things happen while he still had all this free time to spend with Dylan, because soon things would be hectic and crazy and too stressful to try and start up something lasting, which is exactly what he wanted this thing between him and his roommate to become.

Back at home, the evening dwindled into something warm and content, the entire household congregated outside in the freshly manicured backyard. Will grilled steaks and corn on the cob with the help of Santi since Imelda had gone home for an early night. Benny and Lennon sat at the patio table playing blackjack, their laughter sounding out through the yard, bringing a smile to Dylan’s face as she sat on the swing set of the small playground Frankie had built for his daughter during the first few weeks of having her back with him. Dylan couldn’t have felt more content, her belly full of hot dogs and beer, watching Frankie laying in the grass with his daughter pointing up at the stars that had just barely become visible in the twilight sky.

“Dyl!” Lennon called, pulling her from her daze. “Come here!”

Dylan got up and walked past Frankie, shooting him a wink as she walked over to the table and sat down beside Benny.

“Settle an argument,” Lennon started.

“Okay,” Dylan chuckled.

“Frankie’s dick—it’s average size, right?” Lauren continued, causing Dylan’s eyes to widen at the unexpected question.

“Uh—“

“I’ve seen it,” Benny argued. “Not for very long and not…ya know, fuckin’ hard, but I saw it. I know it’s above average.”

“I—I wouldn’t know,” Dylan shrugged, trying not to blush too hard at the subject that she’d given plenty of thought to in private but never in public. “Haven’t seen it yet.”

“Felt left out.” Frankie appeared at the table and took the seat on the other side of Dylan. She couldn’t help the smile that formed on her face as he scooted his chair back in much closer to hers than it had been before. “What’re we talking about?”

“Nothing,” Benny answered, eyeing Lennon with a smirk.

“Frankie, can I ask you something?” Lennon leaned over the table a bit, a mischievous smirk growing on her face as she watched her sister glare at her in warning.

“Shoot,” he shrugged.

“What’s like, in your opinion of course, the average dick size?”

Dylan turned to Frankie and watched as he choked on his beer before composing himself.

“Uh, I don’t know. Average is relative,” he replied, his eyes glancing over at Dylan who was fully turned to face him. “Like five or six inches, I don’t know. Why?”

“Five or six hard? Or five or six flaccid?” Benny probed.

“In your case, hard,” Frankie retorted, earning a scoff from his friend and a laugh from Dylan.

“But…in your case?” Lennon continued.

“Len,” Dylan snapped.

“Hey, you need another beer?” Frankie asked Dylan with a tap on her shoulder as he stood up.

“Yeah, I’ll just join you.” Benny and Lennon whistled as the pair walked into the house, causing Will and Santi to join in with their own hollering.

“Jesus,” Frankie sighed as he slid the patio door shut, silence falling over the house. “Like living with a bunch of middle schoolers.”

“I’m sorry about Lennon.” Dylan opened the fridge and pulled out two beers while Frankie took a seat on the sectional. “She’s obsessed with your dick size apparently. Seems to think you’re small, but Benny disagrees.”

“What do you think?” he asked, eyes locked on her as she walked his beer over and sat down beside him with her own. She hugged her legs up to her chest and smirked, shrugging.

“All I know is you’re good with your hands. Long as you have that down, you’ll get the job done,” she answered, bringing out that dimple of his when she reached her foot over to nudge his thigh.

“So,” he started, changing the subject from his manhood to something more pressing. “I was thinking, if you’re still up for it, maybe I could take you out tomorrow? There’s this old drive-in theater that’s playing The Shining, but if that’s not your thing—“

“No, I love The Shining,” she interrupted with an excited smile. “I think that sounds like a good plan, Frankie.”

“Yeah?” he grinned through his disbelief at the fact that he was actually going out on a date with this dream of a woman. Dylan giggled and nodded, moving to close the distance between them before resting her head on his shoulder.

“Put a movie on,” she ordered in a whisper. Frankie hummed a “sure thing” and reached over the coffee table to grab the remote, turning the TV on. As he scrolled through Netflix, Dylan cozied up into his side, relishing in the feeling of his arm wrapping around her shoulder. “This feels nice. Feels right.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, smiling to himself. “It feels really right.”

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[redahlia-writes]

you make loving fun. | frankie morales x ofc

three. everywhere

content (for this chapter): swearing (in multiple languages), chaotic siblings dynamic, insecurities, references to a past (bad) relationship, fluff, one black eye, a landlord being a landlord (derogatory), frankie being a little bit of an idiot, symbolism if you squint

word count: 6.2k

a/n: for santi's girl please refer to @lcvenderblues (i feel like i'm throwing you to the wolves), and also thank her because it's the main reason why camila and frankie came to be. i wanna thank you all once again for the response to the previous chapters, makes me cry a bit and ily all

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

series masterlist | masterlist

previous

“Frankie has always been the least impulsive of us. When we worked together, it was the two of us bringing down the rashness of the group–I think that’s why we went along in the first place. I looked at him and saw a wise, level-headed, considerate man–and then Camila happened. Sorry, I’m sorry, just a joke! But, truly, ever since she came into his life, Frankie became different–it took me a while to realize it was a good different, that it was, for lack of a better word, his healing. And I liked Camila, since the first day we met: she was funny, kind, smart, beautiful too–most of all, I’d never seen Frankie like that. None of us had. It was odd, I think, and she knew that. I’ve never met anybody as understanding as Camila, as able to read other people as she does, and I’ll admit it was a little scary, in the beginning. But I’ll never forget–and, Fish, you don’t know this–one night, we were out for drinks, and Camila pulled me aside; it was just a few weeks after we’d first met, she looked me straight in the eyes and told me William–swear to God, the first person to call me William in years–, I could never hurt him. She said it like she couldn’t even fathom the idea of doing so, and it was so easy to believe her. It became even easier as time went by, and she stuck not only with Frankie, but the rest of us. So Fish, thank you for bringing her into our lives–I know I don’t have to tell you how lucky both of you are.”

The three men at the door looked at the woman in front of them with a dumbfounded gaze, looking between her and the young girl giggling in her arms. Alba wriggled in her hold, reaching her arms over towards the closest of the three of them.

“Does it take three people to deliver pizza now?” she wondered, her eyes flickering with amusement as she tilted her head to the side, loose strands of her braided hair falling across her face. Alba, turning her head towards her, squealed and imitated her as she looked back at the men, headbutting Camila gently in the cheek with a babble. “I know, baby–they don’t even have the pizza!” she hummed with a grin.

“Sorry,” the tallest of them managed to pull himself back from his haze, leaning forward slightly, “who are you?”

“Camila,” she readjusted Alba on her hip, her gaze wandering across them one more time.

“Mila, do you need–” Frankie called, walking towards the entrance. At the sight of the three men, he stopped in his tracks for a moment. “Carajo,” he muttered under his breath, then reached her side–his hand rose to the small of her back right away, a gentle caress up across her spine as one of Alba’s arms pushed out in his direction. “What are you doing here?”

“Interrupting somethin’, clearly,” the one at the front said, looking at Camila and Alba, then back towards Frankie, dark eyebrows arched. “Surprise?”

“Is this Morales?” a voice called from behind them, and all five turned. “Pizzas for Morales?” the delivery guy offered, tentatively.

“Yeah, sorry,” Frankie sighed, fishing the money from Camila’s cardigan pocket before pushing between the men to retrieve the boxes and pay him. He turned back towards her, his gaze darting between the three before settling on her–she shrugged lightly, her eyebrows arching a little, to which he tilted his head to the side, and only then she nodded. It happened so fast, the others simply stood staring, all equally perplexed, until Frankie sighed again. “So, are you guys staying for dinner?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” the boxes were quickly removed from Frankie’s hands as one of the men walked inside, lingering a moment at the threshold with a little smile on his boyish face. “Hi,” Alba babbled the word back, and his eyes shimmered slightly before he looked at Camila again. “I’m Benny.”

“I know, dear,” she said gently, her smile soft and incredibly warm. Benny tripped on the step to get fully inside, gripping the boxes a little tighter in his hands as he walked past with her free hand brushing his shoulder–he turned to the others, his eyes a little wide. “You’re Will,” she added, looking towards the taller of them–he nodded, his lips pressed a little tighter than before–and then turned to the last of them. “Which means you’re Santiago.”

“Christ, nobody’s called me Santiago in ages apart from my mother,” he muttered, and Frankie elbowed him in the ribs. “Ya basta, pendejo,” he complained, pushing the man aside before stepping forward. “Sorry, chiquitita,” he murmured towards a smiling Alba. “Yes, hi.”

“Ma’am,” Will nodded his head as he walked in, and Camila’s eyes widened a little before she snorted, sending the child in another fit of giggles. Will frowned slightly, his steps faltering as he turned to look over his shoulder at Frankie, right after him.

“Sorry, just–Camila is just fine, Will,” she said, shifting to close the door. Frankie moved at her side, his hand again reaching up her back before he had to grab Alba, her whole body tipping forward to reach for her father. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called ma’am in my life.”

“Get in here and make yourself useful, Miller!” Santi called out from the kitchen, and Will cleared his throat with one last glance in Camila’s direction before walking away.

Frankie bumped his shoulder gently with Camila’s, turning his gaze towards her and mouthing a quiet sorry to which she smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry,” she reassured softly, interlocking her arm with his and walking with him towards the kitchen, where plates and glasses clattered, quick and nervous chattering filling the space. “Besides, you did mention us meeting.”

“Yeah, just–” he took a slow breath in, exhaled when her chin brushed his shoulder. “I think I was hoping it’d happen as late as possible,” she laughed softly, placing yet another kiss on his stubbled cheek.

“Well, at least one of them likes me for sure,” she whispered, glancing at the three bumping into each other in the kitchen, and smiled. “I can work with that. I’ll be right back.”

He let Alba back down to toddle by herself in the kitchen, followed by him shortly–the three men stopped their chat and movements as soon as they saw him, Benny crouching down with his arms wide open to welcome the child.

“If we crashed date night you could just say it,” Santi said, eyebrows arched as he looked at Frankie leaning on the counter.

“She just came over after work, Pope,” he muttered in return, head hanging a little lower. “My place’s closer than hers and neither of us wanted to cook, that’s all.”

“That’s all,” he scoffed, mockingly, before mimicking the other man’s position–elbows on the counter, head slightly tilted to look at him. “You don’t want us here. You wanted to keep hiding her from us.”

“Pope,” Will chided, clear eyes hardening a little with the reproach.

“Hiding her?” Frankie frowned, pushing himself up. “You’ve all known about her for months, what are you talking about?”

“Yeah, six months,” Santi’s eyes darted towards the door and then back to his friend. “You do realize it’s been six fucking months since you first went out with her, right?”

“Don’t listen to your uncle, he can’t watch his mouth,” Benny told Alba, who sat on his bent arm and giggled whenever he looked back up at her. 

“Sorry,” Santi muttered, but quickly turned back towards Frankie. “All I’m saying is, you’re hiding her from us–or us from her, maybe.”

“I’m not hiding anybody, Pope,” Frankie sighed heavily, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “But if you must know, this is why I hadn’t introduced you yet–you’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion.”

“This whole thing? You mean your girlfriend, Fish?” Santi snorted, to which Frankie frowned again.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he mumbled, flinching when Benny, suddenly at his side, hit him in the arm. “What?”

“Dude, come on,” the younger Miller said, with a wide grin and his head tilted–Alba imitated him, too, tipping herself to the side. Benny’s hand reached up to balance her. 

“What?” he repeated, shrugging lightly.

“You’ve been spending all your time with her–we gotta start ambushing you to remember what you look like,” Frankie rolled his eyes, stepping back to fold his arms across his chest.

“I don’t spend all–I’m not having this conversation,” he exclaimed at last, shaking his head. “You’re here now, you’re meeting her, that’s it.”

“Still sounds like you don’t want to,” Santi retorted, to which Frankie threw his hands up in the air, head tipped back.

“Dios–you’re unbelievable,” he muttered. His position shifted almost immediately after, shoulders sagging a little as if in relief before he turned his head, just a moment before Camila stepped into the kitchen–she’d undone her hair, washed her face of any residual make-up, barefooted, and looked right at home. “Hungry?”

The three of them glanced at each other as a bubble seemed to form around Frankie and Camila, his eyes crinkling at the corners while she reached his side, nodding with her eyebrows arched. Frankie’s hand sought her arm, trailing down the large sleeve until it brushed her hand, fingers hooking almost as an afterthought. She leaned in, and brushed a quick kiss to Frankie’s lips. The others looked away quickly–it felt like something too homely to be witnessing. Too intimate.

“Starving,” she replied, bumping into his side gently, a smile grazing her lips.

“Mi-a!” Alba called, loudly, rocking herself in Benny’s hold. The woman’s eyes shimmered slightly, and she circled around Frankie to reach for the child–she all but fell in her embrace, with a giggle as soon as her face was buried in the waves of her hair, tugging slightly on the closest lock she could grab.

“Hey, how come you call for her but not your uncle?” Santi protested, reaching for both of them. “Ya pues, digas tío, chiquitita,” he leaned so that his face was a little closer to Camila’s shoulder, where Alba rested her chin and gave a toothy grin. “¿Puedes llamar a tu tío Santi?” the woman chuckled at his sweetened voice, looking towards him from above her shoulder.

“Sorry, Pope,” Frankie exclaimed, his hand coming down onto the man’s back in a mockingly reassuring pat. “Think she has a favorite Garcia now.”

“Yeah, yeah, must run in the family,” he scoffed, then reached over to poke Alba’s cheek. “Pequeña traidora,” he whispered, making the child squeal and hide her face into Camila’s shoulder. “Alright then–I’ll just have to win you back.”

“Oh, you’re making it into a competition?” Camila chuckled, stepping aside and towards the living room–Santi followed shortly after, bringing Alba’s high chair with him.

“Of course I am,” he declared, puffing his chest out a little. “For both Morales,” he added, and Camila’s laughter rang crystalline and loud.

Frankie’s gaze stayed trained on them, blindly reaching for the pizza boxes until another hit against his shoulder from Benny made him groan and rub against the offended spot, looking back at the younger Miller with a frown.

“Will you quit that?” he grumbled, to which Benny snickered.

“Not your girlfriend my ass, Fish,” he took the pizzas from him, walking backwards to the living room with a slightly wilder grin. “You’re not fooling anybody!”

Will, quiet until that moment, tilted his head as Frankie’s gaze moved from his younger brother to Camila–she was crouched down with Alba in front of her and Santi to the side, her hair falling like a curtain across her side profile until she reached up, tucking it behind her ear to reveal a smile. A quick one broke on Frankie’s lips, too, and Will cleared his throat.

“Looks pretty serious,” he commented, level-voiced, and Frankie looked back at him.

“Still figuring it out,” he admitted, occupying his hands by gathering the glasses one of them had already pulled from the pantry. “It’s–you know how it is. Better safe than sorry.”

Will wondered if Frankie was truly unaware there was no safe anymore–not with the way he seemed to be lured by her, eyes and body seeking her even though she was just a few steps away. Not with the way her gaze softened when she looked at him, too, her hand trapped in Alba’s ones.

“How much does she know?” Will asked softly–careful, always calculated Will.

Frankie shrugged, lowering his gaze before turning it to his friend once more.

“All of it.”

“The pilot license?” he nodded, tapping his index against the side of the glass he was holding. “Colombia?”

“All of it, Will,” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, brows pinched together. “She’s known for a while, and she’s still here, and things are good. Actually good.”

“Alright,” Will said quickly, stepping towards him and reaching to squeeze his shoulder. Frankie exhaled heavily, face relaxing. “Alright, Frankie, I’m sorry,” he added, and sighed before taking the glasses from Frankie. “She does seem nice. I’ll tone it down.”

“Thank you,” he nodded once, and turned his gaze to meet hers across the room–a quick smile pulled at his mouth once more, instinctual and soft. “She really, really is. She’s good.”

Camila’s fingers gently scratched across his scalp, the images on the TV screen blurring with each passing moment–the movie played softly, sound muffled by one of his ears pressed against her thighs, one hand brushing small and slow circles over her knee from above the hem of her skirt.

Alba was asleep in her room, a reprieve from her ever growing vocabulary and the quickness of her steps that had left them both exhausted–Frankie knew that if neither of them made a move to get up and go to bed, they’d probably spend the night right there on the couch.

“Whose idea was it to go out today?” he mumbled, cheek squished against her leg that turned his words into a light slur. Camila chuckled, trailing the hand that was in his hair down to the nape of his neck, making him sigh softly.

“Yours,” he gave a gentle squeeze to her knee and groaned.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing himself against her a little harder–Camila chuckled again. “The park, too?”

“It’s such a nice day,” she responded, deepening her voice in a mock imitation of him. “The sun’s out, it’ll do Alba some good to be outside. Oh, let’s also invite the others!”

“That is not how I speak,” he protested, pinching her inner thigh–she snorted, wriggling a little underneath him. In response, he draped his whole arm over her legs, locking her in place. “Besides, you’re the one who brought that cake–the sugar high is on you.”

“Your mom gave me the recipe! I had to try it,” she retorted with an offended gasp, poking his shoulder with her finger. A buzz came from the coffee table in front of them–the nth of the evening–and the laughter in her words left space to a heavy sigh as she waved towards her own phone, its screen lit. “Could you turn that off?”

“Sure,” he murmured, holding onto her legs to reach for it. “Do you want to see what it is?” he asked, lifting it over his head to offer it to her–she made an annoyed noise from the back of her throat, and he twisted his neck a little to look back at her.

“No need, it’s just my landlord again,” she muttered, taking the phone from him with a grimace twisting her lips. He watched her as she pressed on the shut off button before throwing the phone aside, pulling her glasses over her head. 

“Everything alright?” he asked, once more softly, moving his hand over the top of her legs.

“Yeah, he’s just–breathing down my neck,” she sighed, sinking a little against the backrest. “Next rent payment is coming up–a few months ago work didn’t pay me on time, so I couldn’t pay him on time, and he started being an ass about it,” she scoffed, fingertips brushing through his locks again. “Texts me every single time, even though I’ve been punctual ever since.”

“Maybe you could not pay him,” the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself, and he tried to play it off with a shrug that reverberated across her body, too.

“I still need the apartment, Frankie,” she chuckled softly, rolling the tip of a lock between her fingertips. “I can’t just decide to–” when his body tensed, Camila stopped and he felt her shift in her seat, leaning slightly forward. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Frankie’s ears started to burn as he felt her gaze on the side of his face, and he quickly cleared his throat to try and clear the knot that had formed.

“I mean, you’re here most of the time,” he murmured, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “Half your stuff’s here already, and you’re closer to work, so I just thought–” he closed his eyes, drawing a slow breath in.

Silence wrapped around them, the only sound that of the now forgotten movie and his own heart thundering, blood rushing to his ears. There it was, he thought, the reckoning–he’d fucked up truly this time, had let himself run away with the comfort of their situation, but it had been too much, too soon, too–

“Frankie,” she tapped against his shoulder, voice and touch equally soft as she shifted on the couch and tried to slide from under him. Reluctantly, he pulled himself up, keeping his gaze lowered to where she was crossing her legs and turning towards him. “I need to be sure you’re asking what I think you’re asking,” her hand searched for his across the cushion. “Do you–are you asking me to move in? Here, with you and Alba?”

“God knows she wouldn’t be thrilled to have you here every day,” he scoffed softly, then slowly lifted his eyes. Her glasses were a little askew over her head, eyes wide and eyebrows arched as she let her gaze dart across his form. “I would too, and I know–” he locked his index around her small finger, pulling her hand up and towards his lap, “it’s soon, and quick, and maybe too much, I just thought–it’s convenient, is it not?”

“You’re not asking me just because it’s convenient,” he shifted his hand until they were palm to palm, her eyes moving from the point they were joined back towards his face, a flicker of doubt crossing her eyes. “Are you?”

“No, of course not,” he shook his head, and she moved closer across the couch, leaning in a little–he caught her side with his free hand, thumb rubbing at her waist, right underneath her ribcage. “You wouldn’t have to worry about rent–that apartment is awful, anyway,” he added with a quick, nervous laugh.

“Frankie, honey,” her free hand reached up to cup his jaw, and in doing so he met her gaze fully, drawing a quick breath in before melting towards her touch. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am,” trailing up her side and arm, he wrapped his hand around hers right against his face, pressing his cheek into her palm. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s a big change, Frankie,” she kept her voice low, yet he still could catch the nervous edge on the tip of her tongue. “For you, for Alba–do you really want me here all the time? It’s–” she must’ve noticed the shift in his expression, the slow retreating of his expectant gaze as his lips dropped into a half-pout. Too much, too soon, too eager, too– “I need to know you’re actually sure. Because waking up next to you is the happiest I’ve been in almost two years–a little more, if I’m being honest–and I can’t get my hopes up if it’s just, I don’t know, a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

He had realized early on that Camila rarely held back–over the course of the months they’d kept seeing each other, he’d pieced together the messiness of her last relationship, the sorrys and moments of silence she carried after it, the uncertainties that still manifested in her sometimes-gazes towards him. A work in progress, she called it, trying to smile it off–but Frankie could see the frustration when she thought she’d done something wrong, and caught herself seizing up for it, searching his gaze for reassurance.

It nearly broke his heart.

Yet it made him understand why doubt was clinging to her like a second skin, why she sought more and more of him as they talked about it.

“This is it for me, Mila,” letting go of her hands, he reached for her waist and pulled her close–as close as he could before she had to move onto his lap. Her hands fell to his chest, gripping the collar of his shirt. “It is a big change, but I don’t mind it–and I can assure you, Alba won’t either. I do think she likes you more than me,” she chuckled softly, bottom lip trembling slightly. “And I’m absolutely sure–if you don’t want to now, then someday else,” he shrugged, squeezing her waist once in reassurance before smiling. “But, even now, I wouldn’t mind coming home to you every night–although actually, it’s you coming home to me, but still–” his sentence was cut off by her lips pressing to his, quick and a little messy in her hastiness.

Frankie’s arms wrapped around her, one hand shifting up across her spine as she almost toppled over to get closer and closer and closer still–he could feel her hands moving from his chest to his shoulders, up his neck, in his hair, shuddering breaths across his lips as she pressed herself into his front, moving onto her knees and straddling him.

“Is that a yes?” he slurred through the kisses, leaning against the backrest of the couch and bringing her with him–her lips trailed down across his cheek, his jaw, and he squeezed her hips once, twice, chuckling. “Mila–”

“Yes,” she mumbled, arms wrapping around his shoulders before she buried her head in the curve of his neck–all the tension left her body, and he blindly reached up to take the glasses from her head, the frame pushing a little into his jaw until he placed them aside. “Frankie?”

“Yes, baby?” he asked softly, brushing through her hair, nape of her neck and down her back. It was easier to confess while hiding against his collar, thumb brushing the side of his neck–his pulse jumped towards her touch, eyes closing as he sighed in response to her words.

“You’re it for me, too.”

And although he had been terrified in the beginning, Frankie knew there was no timeline where, as they kept seeing each other, he wouldn’t fall deeply, deeply for her. He’d known it, deep down, from the day he’d woken up with her in his arms for the first time; from the first time he’d seen her with Alba, and his heart had skipped a beat; even before, he’d known it when they were in his car, and her voice, loud, louder, had brought back to life a part of him he hadn’t realized he was missing.

“Should I see the other guy?” Camila took Benny’s face in her hands as soon as he walked out in the backyard, angling his head down towards her to get a better view of his left eye–bruised and slightly swollen, it made his eyelid droop a little. “Thought you were done with boxing,” she sighed, frowning ever so slightly.

“MMA,” he corrected, and she arched her eyebrows at him, tilting her head slightly to the side. “Sorry–it’s nothing, wasn’t a fight.”

“Sure looks like one,” she let go of him, stepping back toward the table set behind her shoulders–between more food than all of them could ever consume and drinks, was a bucket of ice she fished from, dropping some of the ice-cubes in a dishcloth that was resting at the corner of the table.

“I mean it, it’s nothing, it’s–” he hissed when she gently placed the ice against the corner of his eye, ducking his head. She held him still by the chin, keeping him so that he was looking down at her. “It’s stupid, really. Don’t worry.”

“A dude was being an asshole to some girl at the market and he stepped in,” Will called from behind his brother, and Camila’s eyebrows arched up again, gaze wandering from one Miller to the other–Benny’s expression was twisted, somewhere between guilt and coyness. 

“I see,” she nodded, her head tilted again. “You were being a knight in shining armor, then,” color crept along Benny’s cheeks, warming his face up a little. “Did you get her number?”

“That’s not–” he tried to argue, but bit his tongue the moment he met Camila’s gaze again, holding his breath for a beat before exhaling. “Yeah.”

She broke into a grin, shifting on her tiptoes to plant a kiss over his still bent head.

“Good boy,” she hummed before patting his shoulder. “Keep the ice on, and eat something–both of you,” she said then, stepping back.

“Yes, ma’am,” Will nodded, already half-way towards the laid out table. Camila scoffed, the back of her hand smacking against his shoulder before he could turn with a wide grin, his head bent towards her.

“Knock the ma’am off, Miller,” she pointed a finger at him, accusingly, and he quickly wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight before he lifted her off the ground, making her squeal with laughter despite her best effort. “This is the last time I’m warning you!” she exclaimed, ruffling his slicked back hair.

“Heard that before,” he chuckled, having now to tip his head back. She scoffed, a mock eye-roll before the smile took over again and she leaned her head down with a noisy kiss to his cheek.

“Where’s Santiago? Is he late again?” she asked, resting her arms over his shoulders, legs still dangling in the air. Will shrugged lightly.

“He’s inside with Frankie and his girl,” the moment the words left his mouth, Camila’s posture shifted, straightening her back as her gaze snapped towards the sliding door.

Frankie had gone to open the door while she finished setting the table for the impromptu almost-fully-moved-in celebration, as they called it, and in that moment she could almost catch a glimpse of his shoulders by the kitchen counter, his back turned on them.

“I’m sorry, did you just say his girl?” Will chuckled, and before she could even start wriggling out of his hold, he set her down and watched her sprint towards the kitchen.

“Pope’s not gonna like that,” Benny told his brother, words slightly muffled by the olive pit turning in his mouth and the ice pressing down his cheek.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” was his only reprimand.

Inside, Camila all but fell against Frankie, leaning forward as he was mid-sentence while holding onto his shoulders–he smiled right away, hands coming up to brush her arms before tilting his head to rest a kiss against her temple. In front of them, Santi held Alba with her arms tightly wound around his neck, and at his side a woman shuffled on the spot, lowering her gaze a little.

“Hi,” Camila said, interlocking her hands with Frankie’s.

“And this is the lady of the house,” Santi all but sighed, tilting his head to look at the woman by his side. “Although there’s not much on the lady part.”

“Cállate, cabrón,” she muttered in response, and Alba wriggled in Santi’s arms.

“Tío!” she called, enthusiastically–Santi’s eyes shimmered, his smile widening.

“You’re right, sweetie–it’s tío cabrón,” she nodded, her voice slightly lowered as she grinned. Frankie chuckled as she shook his head, while Santi’s face dropped in a deep frown that made the woman at his side hide her smile behind her hand.

“Hey, don’t take her side already,” he protested, looking at the woman from over Alba’s head.

“Oh, no–do take my side,” Camila detangled herself from Frankie–much to his dismay, his hand catching the ends of her hair as she brushed past him to reach the other woman’s side. “It’s nice to have some respite from all the testosterone going around in this house,” she added, leaning in almost conspiratorially. She chuckled, gaze darting from Santi–his expression turned in mock-offense–back to Camila.

“Glad to be of service,” she said, sweet-voiced. “And contrary to what he’s letting on now, Santi’s only ever spoken nicely of you–so it’s nice to meet you.”

“Betrayer,” the aforementioned man mumbled, making Frankie snort. Camila turned to look over her shoulder at him, sticking her tongue out and consequently sending Alba in a fit of giggles. “Camila, I’m warning you–”

“Yes, yes,” she waved her hand dismissively, locking her arm with the woman’s to lead her towards the sliding door, their steps matching–the woman looked back just once, a half-apologetic look in her eyes that was accompanied by a smile nevertheless. Santi sighed, defeated, watching the two head outside, back to the Millers.

“Fish, I swear that if your girlfriend does anything–”

“Not my girlfriend,” he interrupted, his gaze still turned towards Camila. With a roll of his eyes, Santi hit the man on the shoulder with the back of his free hand, regaining his attention with a flinch.

“Seriously? You literally live together,” he scoffed, as Frankie shrugged and reached for his daughter instead. The child all but launched herself into her father’s embrace, still giggling.

“We haven’t discussed it, is all,” at that, Santi rolled his eyes again. “So what? We lived together. Should I call you my ex boyfriend?”

“Very mature,” he tsked, shaking his head. “Don’t you think maybe it’s time you do talk about it? What’s the worst that could happen, she says no and moves back out?” he snorted at Frankie’s growing worried gaze, resting one hand over his shoulder. “I doubt that’s how it’ll go, man. Seriously.”

“So you’re gonna finally do the same?” he retorted, letting go of Alba as she squirmed out of his grip and called for Mila. “Be careful, nena–she’s right outside.”

“What are you talking about?” although he tried playing it off quickly, still an edge remained to Santi’s words–he cleared his throat when Frankie looked back towards him, his eyebrows arched. “I told you a million times, we’re just–”

“Friends, sure thing,” it was Frankie’s turn to clasp his hand over Santi’s shoulder. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Pope.”

Santiago hung back as the man made his way outside, and watched when, as soon as she saw him, Camila’s face broke into a smile, quick to welcome him in her embrace once again. Frankie kissed her cheek, her jaw, murmuring something in her ear with a grin that made her laugh, so loud Alba had to join in from her post on the grass.

At their side, lowering her gaze towards the tip of her shoes, was the other woman, hands falling down her sides with a shy smile before she stepped back slightly–and looked up. Their eyes met through the open door, her smile widening and his own returning quickly, instinctively, and something pulled at his chest–hooked underneath his ribs, brushing the edges of his heart, he felt it tug him forward and outside, unrelenting until he reached her.

“Are you sure about the couch?” Frankie called from the living room, his head turned towards the kitchen where he could hear Camila.

“You already have a couch, honey,” she walked in with the nth box in her arms over the course of how many days, weeks, the branches of the rosemary plant poking out from above the edge, purple flowers decorating some of its extremities. “A bigger, way more comfortable one, actually.”

“But it’s practically new,” he protested, placing his hands on one of the cushions, right by half-asleep Alba. “It’s just a pity,” Camila chuckled, placing the box on the ground and walking up to him. “We could put it in storage.”

“It’ll just collect dust in storage, Frankie,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around him and leaning against his back–he straightened himself as she did, her cheek pressing against his shoulder before shifting onto her tiptoes, hooking her chin over the bent of his neck. “We don’t need it–I got everything I had to. I have everything.”

He sighed, his eyes falling shut for a moment as he rested his hands on top of hers–he could feel Camila’s breathy chuckle against his skin before she lowered her lips to his neck, peppering soft kisses along the edge of the collar of his shirt, side to nape in a delicate brush. 

“It’s a really nice couch,” he murmured, and she smiled against his skin.

“I know, it’s the first thing I bought,” she said softly, moving then to his side–she went under his arm, and he wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her in as she took his hand, locking herself into his embrace. “It looks better here, anyway.”

“Is it too late to ask you if you’re sure about this?” he asked, their fingers interlocking.

“Yes,” she turned her head with a light smile, cheek pressed to his shoulder. “You’re not having second doubts, are you?” she asked then, voice softer.

“Of course not,” his response was immediate, turning as well to look at her–her smile widened at his words, shifting their intertwined hands towards her chest. “Just–making sure you don’t have any, either.”

Camila’s gaze softened, carefully unknotting them to move in front of him–still close enough she had to tilt her head slightly back to keep looking at him, pressing his hand to her chest a moment longer before lifting it to her lips. His free hand rose towards her side, brushing his fingers along her hip as she left a gentle kiss across his knuckles and then all but pressed herself to his front. He smiled when she bumped the tip of her nose with his, half-chasing her.

“No doubt whatsoever,” she hummed before their lips met once, twice, soft kisses that crinkled the corners of her eyes. “I never planned on staying here long, I just had to get away from that house, and him,” she shrugged, Frankie’s brows knitting slightly.

I spent so much time during that relationship staying quiet, staying still–he remembered the words clearly from their first morning together, and she’d reconstructed it piece by piece during the following months. Camila counted herself among the lucky ones–her body had never taken the brunt of his boredom, or annoyance. And still she carried some marks.

Still she’d practically ran.

“I would’ve moved in with you on the first night,” she admitted then, grinning.

“Because you liked the house,” he scoffed with mock-offense, and she turned her lips in a half-pout, tipping her chin up.

“Of course. Why else?” he saw her lips quiver with the attempt to hold back a smile, and leaned in to kiss her a little more harshly, making her laugh against his mouth as she brought her hand to his cheek. When he pulled back, she sighed. “Right–maybe for that. And the house.”

“I’ll take it,” he relented with a shrug, followed by an almost sheepish smile–she kissed it off his lips, once and twice and once more, a quiet laughter that she interrupted quickly, slipping out of his grasp before he could even protest it.

“Nena, don’t eat those directly from the plant,” she called softly, walking a bee-line towards the box left behind and Alba, sitting by the rosemary and trying to chew the flowers off the branches. “Here, look,” Camila said, kneeling at her side and plucking some of the small, purple flowers, placing them one by one on Alba’s palm. “My yaya would make candies out of these, but I think they taste nice on their own, too.”

“Can-y,” Alba tried to speak and put the flower in her mouth at the same time, butchering the word–still, with a smile, Camila nodded and mimicked her, placing the flower on the tip of her tongue.

“Yes, can-y,” Alba giggled at the slightly muffled mispronunciation, reaching with her hands towards Camila’s–she gave her another one of the flowers. “You know, if the plant sticks properly in the garden, next year we’re gonna have so many of these,” she added, saying it like a secret.

Frankie’s heart stuttered at her words–next year, we, given as a certainty.

He walked to them both, crouching by them–Camila offered him a flower, which he ate directly from her fingertips, making her scrunch up her nose in mock-disgust while looking at Alba, the kid laughing again and grasping Frankie’s pant leg.

“You sure you want to move it to the garden?” he asked carefully, hand coming down Alba’s head to ruffle her soft curls. The child lifted her arms to wrap them around her dad’s wrist, pulling his hand to her.

“I want it to take root,” Camila nodded, brushing her fingertips along the leaves of the plant. “I found its perfect home already–a great sunny corner. It’ll grow nicely,” she added, meeting his gaze with her voice a little lower. Again Frankie’s heart swelled, and he nodded as he leaned in, nose brushing her hair as he kissed her temple–the rosemary smell clung to her skin, welcoming him home.

next

[spacecowboyhotch]

Pedro Pascal Characters Masterlist

Javier Peña - Narcos

Blue Scoops Universe (hiatus)

From Things Lost* (series, complete)

The Sun Also Rises Uni (hiatus)

Comfort*

Give me More*

Frankie Morales - Triple Frontier

Sinner’s Refuge

What Dreams are Made Of

Din Djarin - The Mandalorian

Ambrosial

Gardens of Babylon Universe* (hiatus)

Joel Miller - TLOU

Sweet Nothing Universe (hiatus)

Warm Embers: The Kindling | The Crescendo*

[romanarose]

Take Your Time: Chapter 2

Frankie Morales X Fem!Oc (Jana Hernandez)

Chapter 1 : Chapter 3

Series masterlist

Chapter summary: Dealing with the fall out of the previous night, Frankie struggles with his own self-hatred and worry of the harm he's causing his daughter, her mother who he still loves, and the friends that surround him, and attempts to push them away.

Warnings: LOOOOTTSSSS of negative self-talk, self-hatred, self-sabotage. Frankie's being a dick near the end but give him some grace, he's struggling. Talk over suicidal thoughts, wanting to die, addiction, overdose, wounds/blood, bad coping. A/N: I won't go into Laci's backstory here, all you really need to know is given in the text. She's had a hard life, hence Santi's protectiveness over her, especially in regards to sex. If you are curious, you can read chapter 1-3 of Leather and Lace. Chapter 1 goes into how the group meets Laci, and chapter 3 tells you how she ended up with Santi. Chapter 2 is just Santi being a sweetie. Also, I don't know how clear I made this so far, bc it's clear in LaL, but Jana is afro-latina, Chilean on her mom's side, Ethiopian on her dad's side, making Rosie mixed too. I've been doing a lot of research and just listening to my friends of either culture, but if I say something incorrect or offensive, please let me know. I am actively trying to make sure my OC's aren't constantly white, but seeing as I am white, I could very well mess something up.

********************************* When Frankie woke up that morning, all that registered was feeling like complete shit; his head hurt, and he felt nauseous. Next thing that came to mind was that he was on the floor. When he opens his eyes, he sees a blurry vision of the couch and his carpet. When he notices long dark curls falling on his face, Francisco starts to remember when happened last night: the drinking, fighting calling up his old contacts to buy coke, blood, calling- oh fucking hell. Frankie groaned, embarrassed and humiliated. How could he do this to her? Waking her up when she works so hard, dragging her and his daughter out in the cold and she had to- how did she stop the bleeding? It all started to get kinda blurry at that point. Frankie pulled his arm out, finding bandages wrapped around his wrists.

“Morning, Francisco” The tired voice of Jana spoke from beside him. Frankie’s body tensed, and Jana immediately gave him space. “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry.” Jana speaks firmly; she never liked him apologizing. Frankie feels her sit up. “How are you feeling?” “Me siento como una mierda” Jana chuckles a bit as she gets up. “I bet you do” She gently kicks him. “Sit up, let me redress your wrist.” Another pang of guilt shot through him, but he was in no position to argue. Jana took off the wrapping, and Frankie notices the two stitches on either wound. “You called Will, didn’t you?” He asked, knowing the answer and what it meant. Will knew what happened, which meant that Benny and Santaigo knew too. “Yeah, you were bleeding quite a bit, I needed to make sure you didn’t die.” Frankie just nodded, trying not to look at where she was working, lest he begin puking. Again. “Thank you” His eyes averted where she gazed up at him, knelt at the floor before where he sat on the couch. “Don’t worry about it, honey.” A bit of a pause. “Santi texted me, I guess Will called him. He asked if he could come over today?” She didn’t miss the small sigh that came out of mouth. “This is why I didn’t want anyone to know, I didn’t want them to come home early.” “He’s not, they got a call, their getting their first kid today.” Santiago and Laci had decided to do respite foster care together. This was short term foster care, a few hours to a week, and they were able to decline at any time. Laci had seen so much of the struggle of women and families in the system and wanted to help. Her and Santi decided this was a good way to do their part and put their money to use without having to commit to a long-term foster child. Laci, as emotional as she was, would likely get very attached to any kid in her home that long. Plus, ever unspoken, Benny was still blacking out every week and getting in fights, and Frankie was obviously still struggling with recovery, and Laci and Santi needed to be able to help their friends. “Are you lying to me?” Frankie asked. “No, I won’t lie to you, promise.”

“Is Pope lying to you?” Jana chuckled at that. “I don’t think so. Laci asked if we can go get some stuff for infants while you and Santi talk”

The idea of a ‘talk’ with Santi made him anxious. His friend, for much of their life, had been his strength, a sense of security. They had grown up together, enlisted together, and it was Fish’s connection to Santiago that had gotten him in Tom’s circle. Hence, when Tom hand-picked his team, Frankie was picked for his skills as a pilot. Santiago’s sister, Fatima, had practically raised the pair of them, and her death had hit Frankie nearly as hard as it did Santiago, it was bad enough that when his daughter was born, Jana had no qualms naming her after Santi’s sister. Together, they decided on Fatima Rosa-Maria, Rosie for short. “Okay.” Frankie nodded as Jana wrapped him back up again. From her room, he heard Rosie start calling. “Daddy! Daddy!” At two years old, she was just starting talking, and for the first time today Frankie smiled. She was the most precious thing in the world to him, and no matter how bad things got, his little girl always brought him joy. Jana kissed his wrist as she finished. “Do you wanna go see here?” He did. He really fucking did. But Frankie shook his head. “Can you get her? I need to shower. Don’t want her to associate me with the smell of puke and alcohol.”

She seemed to understand, and put saran wrap over his dressings, instructing him to try not to get it wet, and casually requesting he keep the door unlocked.

 From where he undressed in the bathroom, Frankie heard Rosie squeal ‘Mama!’ in surprise, and he wanted so badly in this moment to give his daughter this. He wanted nothing more than a family with Jana and her, her mommy and daddy married and in love, one household; a household frequently filled with her aunts and uncles, and the million little cousins that Santi and Laci inevitably produce after fucking like rabbits… He wanted a happy family for her, for Jana, and hell, for himself. He wanted to give to Jana what Santi gave to Laci, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t the man Santiago was. Santi had taken Lacina at her lowest, carefully and lovingly built her up, adorned her in love and affection, given his all to her; Frankie had nothing to give. Best he could do was make sure they were taken care of. 

 After Santi had gone back for the money in the canyon, he split it with all of them, making them all set for life. Despite the cost of raising a child and his addiction, Frankie still had a shit tone of money; him and Benny didn’t have as much as Santi and Will, who were more responsible, but enough he’d never have to work again. But he did. They all did. Something to take their minds off things. Benny still fought MMA and Will still did his talks. Santi had missions that he often recruited the others for, although he stopped that since the day Laci came into his life. Frankie worked with Pope back when he used to contract, but for almost a year now, there had been nothing, leaving him with nothing to do when Rosa was gone but see the guys, or get high. Recently, he had taken a basic engineering job, Monday through Friday, 9-5, simply for the structure and honestly? He liked it. He liked knowing when he’d wake up and when he’d go to bed, still seeing the guys frequently, and being able to have Rosie when Jana worked evenings and over nights.

Jana refused ‘charity’ as she called it. Since leaving, she wouldn’t let Frankie pay for anything of hers that didn’t involve Rosa; so Frankie paid for everything to do with her. Frankie paid for daycare, their home security, and sent her money every month for food, pullups, clothes, and fun. Jana even acquiesced to letting him buy her a car when her piece of shit broke down on the side of the road again; a simple Buick, just something safe. As he stood in the shower, nearly numb to the scalding water, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to cry, just a bit. He had everything in his hands, a beautiful girlfriend he was ready to propose to, his perfect little baby, the best friends a guy could ask for, and he threw it away for addiction. Jana and him had been on the rocks before Columbia, but that trip had put a gap between them that was irreparable. She didn’t leave right away; she was worried about him, but she didn’t stay long, especially as his using got worse. She refused to raise their daughter in that, and she was right to leave. Frankie had often wondered how things would have gone if he had simply gotten clean when Jana did. Frankie wouldn’t have been desperate for the money, he wouldn’t have gone on that godforsaken mission, and Santi wouldn’t have been able to do that stupid fucking heist without a pilot. With no mission, Tom would still be alive.

“Francisco?” Jana’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, and he realized despite not dipping his head under the water, his face was soaked. “You okay in there?”

He wanted to ask her to come in, he wanted to hold her… but he couldn’t. Asking for help was hard, but letting her see how broken he really is was even harder. “Yeah, just warming up.” he lied. He wanted her there, but also wanted her far, far away from him, away from his own personal disaster. “Okay, I’m making breakfast, it’ll be ready for you whenever you’re out.” It sounded so damn casual. What he would give to have this every day, to wake up to her hair in his face every morning… but she deserved better. Flashes of last night blurred in his head as he stepped out of the shower: Jana’s panicked voice, the vague sound of Will trying to keep his cool, blood coating the dark skin of her hands, the thick, pungent smell of puke in the air… he looked around the bathroom, it was squeaky clean. She must’ve cleaned. That woman was a fucking saint. That was why they couldn’t be together. She deserved more, she deserved better, so did Santi, Will, and Benjamin, so did Rose. He wished he could simply stop existing, stop being, erase his existence without erasing her, somehow. He wished it had been him, not Tom, with a bullet through his fucking brain. He’d kill himself if he didn’t think it would cause everyone more pain, but he knew that would make matters worse, and Benny would probably drink himself to death, if he doesn’t already. Best he could do is try to be as little of a problem as possible.

He stepped into the illuminated kitchen, seeing Jana feeding Rosie in her high chair, and despite his misery, the world looked just a little bit better with them in the room. “Hey honey” She smiled at him as she spooned some apple sauce into Rosie’s mouth and he felt warm inside again. “Is it okay if I shower?” “Of course, are you washing your hair?” He asked with a mouthful of the omelet she cooked up.

Jana laughed, walking to the hall to get the towels out of the dryer. “No offense Francisco, but I’m not washing my hair with your white boy 3-1, I’ll have to use so much coconut to come back from that.” she called out to him, her jovial voice ringing down the hallway. “Do you happen to have anything I can tie my hair back with?” “I think Laci left a hair tie the other night, but… I actually have your shower bonnet in the closet… with the rest of your hair stuff…” His voice trailed off as he continued feeding his babbling little girl. Her voice slowly got louder as he came back around, arms holding the laundry basket. “What?”

Avoiding her gaze, he continued. “When you left you… didn’t take some of your stuff. By the time I noticed, I figured you bought new shit so I just… kept it, just in case.” He didn’t tell her he spent the better part of that first year hoping she’d come back. “I also have a silk pillowcase, you know, if you ever need it again.” “I brought my pillowcase when I left...” She said as she sat down the basket. He still wouldn’t look at her. “Yeah I… bought one. Didn’t want to mess up your hair if you ever got stuck here for one reason or another. Plus, Rosie will need one when she’s a little older anyway” Their daughter had gotten her hair from her maternal grandfathers side, 4A curl type, as he had learned from his online research on how to care for her hair. 

He heard Jana walk across the floor, her soft hands on his. “You’re a good man, Francisco.” He couldn’t help smile into her touch, but deflected the conversation before it could go any further. “Her hair is getting longer. I want to start styling her hair, I’m just not sure how.” Jana recognized right away how he shifted attention to Rosie instead of himself. “You were getting pretty good at braiding my hair, back in the day.” “I might be a little out of practice.” Jana knew Frankie was worried about having a biracial daughter. He barely managed his own soft curls, tucking them away under his hat most days. He wanted to be able to properly care for her hair, and was not afraid of being corrected. “How about I wash my hair today, and you can braid it, and we’ll see where you're at.” Smiling softly at her, he finally met Jana’s eyes. “That would be nice” When Santi let himself and Laci into Frankie’s house, he expected Jana and Rose to be there. What he did not expect was for Jana to be sat on the floor between Frankie’s knees braiding her hair and massaging oil into it while the pair of them and their toddler watched Bluey. With a glance to Laci, he knew automatically she was thinking the same thing he was. The pair had been spending a lot of time together the last few months. Laci kept hoping they’d get back together, telling him how fun it would be, how they could be couple friends, all the grand plans she had for the next 50 years. Santi couldn’t lie; he had hoped they’d patch things up too, but as he told Laci before, Frankie didn’t think he deserved her. He felt Laci squeeze his hand. She was nervous. She was scared for Frankie, having heard minimal details of what happened last night but she cared deeply for him and it hurt her when people she loved hurt. Santi had to remind her not to overwhelm him, and she was buzzing with a nervous energy as she held back her desire to run over to him and shower her with hugs. “Hey guys” Fish called from the couch, beckoning them over. He saw Laci and her desperate attempts to stay calm. Putting a hair tie as he finished the second of the double dutch braids, he patted on the couch next to him. “C’mon, I know you wanna” Laci nearly tackled him in the hug. Despite her skinny arms, she held onto him tightly, but careful not to touch either wrist. He wore a flannel to cover the bandages, and she didn’t know which side was hurt. “I love you so much Frankie, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

He gave an awkward hug back. “I love you too, manita. Can I finish Jana’s hair?” Laci promptly slid down the couch and onto the floor to greet Jana, and started talking about the stores she wanted to go to. Santi sat behind her, rubbing her shoulders. “Would you like me to do yours too, munequita?” The girl beamed up at him. “Yes please”

Santi’s braids… left something to be desired, so they opted to just put two pigtails to the top half of her short blonde hair at the top of her head as Frankie laid Jana’s baby hairs down. “Voila!” Santi motioned as they finished. “Don’t our girls look beautiful?” Frankie winced at Santi calling Jana his girl, but he couldn’t really blame the man; they spent so much time together, the four of them, it was hard to not see them as a couple.

Jana took Laci’s hand. “Yes we do!” And Frankie couldn’t help the breath that hitched in him at the idea of Jana being okay being called his again…. Laci got Rosie ready to go to the store with them to allow Frankie and Santi privacy. She gave Frankie a kiss on his head from where he sat on the couch, and ruffled Santi’s curls. “Adios, Santito” “You’re only half an inch taller than me, Jana” He grumbled. She leaned over to him on his other side. “Sé gentil” Laci gave him a smooch before she quite literally skipped out the doorway. When the door closed, Frankie turned to Santi “Your girl just skipped.” He teased. Despite his nerves surrounding the reason he was here, Santiago beamed and blushed like a smitten teenager. “Yeah, she’s something else.” There was a pause before Frankie spoke. “I didn’t try to kill myself, Santi” “Then what the hell happened” Santi breathed out, exasperated. Frankie slumped down on the couch, pouting. “I don't know how to explain it, hermano. I was having cravings, I had some drinks to curb it, then I just felt… I don’t know, like I didn’t exist or something” “What are you talking about?” “I just told you I didn’t know how to explain it. Don’t ever just wanna… feel something?” A soft chuckle. “Sometimes I feel I have the opposite problem” Frankie returned the laugh. “I know you do, lover boy” “Not just with her, I mean, in general. It’s been better the last half a year, I think Benny can agree I’ve yelled at him less” “Well, except when we went to get the Christmas tree-” “He almost took her foot off!” Frankie raised his hands in mock defense, smiling “Si, si, yo estaba allí” Santi settled, dropping it. “I just mean, I think we can all agree I run a little hot.” “Yeah.” “I’m not going to ask to see the cuts… but how bad was it?” “Will didn’t spill all the gory details?” Frankie joked. “No, you know him, he doesn’t generally want to get involved in things more than he has to. Not one for gossip.” Frankie nods. “Few on my legs weren’t bad enough to need anything, wrists needed stitches.” “Dios Mio, ¿Qué está pasando contigo?” Pope exclaimed, his anxiety for his friend going through the roof. “How am I not supposed to take this as a suicide attempt?” He sounded exasperated, but the pain in his eyes as he turned to Frankie was clear. “You’re not very good at this” Frankie attempted to dissipate the tension with a joke. Santi wasn’t thrilled. He took Frankie’s face in his hands, a similar soft touch Frankie had seen Santiago give Laci. “I’m trying, man. I know I’m not good at this, but I’m trying here.” Closing his eyes and allowing the familiar touch “I know, you’ve gotten better since Laci came around” “Yeah” Santi practically whispered. Frankie didn’t have to open his eyes to picture the dreamy expression on his face. “She brings out the best in me.” “Yeah. She really does.” There was a pause as they both settled back into their seats before Santi talked again. “So you called Jana?” “Don’t get jealous”

“I’m not! I’m just saying-” “Don’t” “She’s been around a lot lately-” “Santi, stop.” He couldn’t have this talk, he didn’t want anyone trying to talk him into it. She deserved better. “I think she’d like to get back-” “Stop” Jana deserved better, Rosie deserved better, Santi deserved better. “Laci thinks that-” Laci, Will, Benny, they all deserved better than him. The urge to push everyone away bubbled up. “Laci needs to mind her damn business.”

“Hey.” Santiago turned him, his face suddenly that deadly calm that came before he absolutely rocked someone's shit. “Watch it.” Frankie wanted to apologize, but he also wanted Santi out of his house and out of his life, he wanted Santi so mad at him that his death wouldn’t phase him. One less person to worry about should he overdose or finally put himself out of his misery. He didn’t look at Pope. He didn’t back down. “Look at me, Francisco” Fish turned to him, face deadset into a glare. “I’ll letting that go because you’re going through something, but you leave her out of whatever the fuck is going on with you, got it?”

He could practically feel the crease in his furrowed brow. Push him away, push him out of your life, he’ll take the girl and Millers with him. “We get it, you’re pussy whipped, you don’t need to make a big show of your masculinity just because she’s the first girl small enough to make you feel tall and your dick feel big-” Even if this doesn't alienate the others, all it would take was picking a fight with Benny. Will would automatically get in the middle of it, and Laci, who spent most of her time away from Santi hanging out with Benny, would put herself between Benny and anyone who'd insult him, which has even included Santi on occasion. “What is going on with you?” Santi couldn’t fathom what would make Frankie suddenly turn on him like this. Keep going, keep talking about her and he’ll deck you, and walk out of your life. He could forgive a lot of things, but not transgressions against her. “You don’t have to act all protective, pendejo, it’s not like she can leave you anyway, but that’s probably why you brought her in-” He didn’t know where the hell these words were coming from, they certainly weren’t things he’d ever thought before. He loved Santigo as a brother, and Laci as his little sister, but that's why he needed them to go. He was a downward spiral, a grenade, and he couldn’t take them with him when he exploded. “Last fucking warning, Fish” The dark look in Santi’s eyes told him he’d switched from Santiago, domestic and in sappy love, to Pope, a soldier trained to kill, who’d taken out men who’d hurt his girl before, and would do it again. He was playing with fire. He just needed one more push, hit him in his weak spot, not his knees, but his jealous streak. “You knew she’d be completely dependent on you, so she’d never leave. If she could, she’d probably leave you, wouldn’t she? She’d probably be with Ben right now, hell, she’s probably fucking him when they-” Within a blink, Frankie felt himself being pulled up by the strong hand that was fisted in his shirt. Despite the panic that had bubbled in his chest knowing what Santi was capable of, Frankie couldn’t bring himself to punch or hit Santi. 

“I know what you’re doing, you’re trying to push me away. Well it’s not going to work, asshole. You’re stuck with me. It’s been 35 years of this, you think I don’t know you well enough by now? I get it. You’re picking on her because you know that’s the only way to get me this fucking mad.” Frankie just glared harshly at him, unwilling to back down or take back the words he said. Santi continued. “But you do not fucking talk about Laci, and you absolutely do not talk about her in the context of sex, do you understand me? Ever. Off limits.” Unable to apologize but unable to push him further, Frankie’s face remained stagnant. Santiago shoved him back down onto the couch, pointing at him. “Nice fucking try” he sat back down on the oppesit end of the couch, crossing his arms. “It worked, I’m furious at you, but I’m not leaving you, not until Jana comes back” When Jana walked in, she sensed the tension immediately as she saw them both sitting silently with stiff body language on the couch and muttered something to Laci about it not going well. Seeing Santi and Frankie clearly in distress, Laci sat down Rosie and walked over to them. “Frankie, what’s-” But before Laci could finish her sentence, Santi grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the man.

“We’re going home”

Laci looked confused and concerned. “But-” but she was being pulled away.

“C’mon, we got a baby to prep for the baby.” Santi turned to Jana, muttering about how it’s her turn.

Jana grabbed Laci’s free hand. “Can you stop pulling her around?” She said, referencing Laci.

Laci stood between them, arms spread out between her lover and her friend. “I think you’re both pulling me around right now”

Jana and Santi both dropped her hands, but Laci promptly found herself at Santi’s side. Something had upset him, and she wanted to be there for him. Santi wrapped an arm around her possessively, ushering her out the door. He looked at Frankie before leaving. “Call me when you’re ready to apologize” and nodded a goodbye at Jana, and Laci gave both a little wave as she followed Santi’s lead.

When the door shut, Jana turned to Frankie. “What did you do?”

Crossing his arms, Frankie didn’t acknowledge her. He couldn’t manage to say anything to push her away like he did Santi, but he hoped if he just ignored her, she’d leave.

Jana wasn’t as easy to play as Santi.

“Nice try, cielito. You’re stuck with me today. Whatever the fuck happened between you is something for Will to deal with, not me. Today is just you, me and Rosie, and you can pout all you want, but something tells me you won’t stand a chance when she wants to play barbies.”

She was right. Jana and Rosie stayed the day, and as much as he tried to keep them at arm's length, when Rosie toddled over to him with her dolls, he soon found himself on the floor having Barbie and Ken make-out while making kissing noises. “Oooohhh Ken you’re so hot” he said in a girlie voice.

When Jana and Rose left that evening, Frankie's goodbye was lingering. He wanted to push them away, but that was nearly impossible, he couldn't hurt Jana the way he had Santi, so as he closed the door behind her, he resolved to do his best to keep them out.

***************************************

THANKS FOR READING!!!! My boy is going through it :(

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[lulutaylorsimaginarium]

MasterList

The Chain

Summary: When the guys get stuck in a situation and hunted down by a drug lord. Frankie makes a call he really doesn’t want to make to the only person that can help them

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen